"We go to war to teach Americans geography."
-- paraphrased from someone or other --
I grew up during the last dregs of the Cold War. Unlike most of my classmates, I watched the news (cos news time is sacrosanct to my Dad) and read the newspaper (I ran out of fun things to read), so I had an idea on how the West and Eastern bloc have a hard-on for each other. Hollywood's depiction of bumbling Communist spies also fed this idea. It was only while I was watching a Bruce Willis movie featuring the cold-eyed Eastern European baddie that it made me wonder: how do the filmmakers in the Communist Bloc feature Western spies?
I was 12 when the Berlin Wall came down. It was a severe buzzkill when you go to school telling people about this awesome event and most of them don't even know what is the Communist Bloc.
*head desk*
For a while the world was giddy with the thought of real world peace. It shouldn't be an impossibility, right? Now that everyone are friends and democratic-like. But we forget greed and human ambition has a way of changing the best laid plans. Yugoslavia imploded thanks to historical resentments and ethnic disputes. The states in the former Soviet Union began demanding autonomy and re-drawing of the borders; now we hear of exotic locales like Abkhazia, Nagorno-Karabakh, Azerbaijan and the knowledge that there is another Georgia outside of the US of A. Warring factions in Africa never really stopped killing one another and the unfortunate civilians who occupy their disputed lands. The Dark Continent feeds our need for the minerals that adorn ourselves and run our electronics; turmoil ensures that the supply flow never ceased at a price that we can('t) afford.
In other words, business as usual.
September 11, 2001 changed the game plan yet again. The West have a new boogeyman and it is the Muslims who are out to destroy them cos the Muslims "hate their freedom" (paraphrasing George W here). Which ever theory subscribe, even those who say that the attack was a conspiracy by the Americans themselves to expand their strategic influence, there is no denying that the world is no longer the same as when the WTC was upright in Manhattan.
Iraq and Afghanistan was invaded in the name of rooting out the nasty Al-Qaeda and other terrorist organisations that are out to get the West. Hundreds and thousands of civilians are dead, maimed and displaced in the name of American freedom. As bad as things were under Saddam Hussein's regime, I wonder if the Iraqis would trade him for life under the Americans. It is nice that the American troops are withdrawing, but after near everything that made life bearable (like water treatment system, sewage management and electric plants) was reduced to a rubble by uranium-depleted shells, with nothing but a shaky government that has yet to show real ability to unite the people and move the country towards positive development and progress, I wonder if it is any different than the US abandonment of South Vietnam.
And now there is all this talk about attacking Iran because the nasty Mullahs are building nuclear weapons and not just developing alternative energy sources. First, the sanctions and trade embargo by the US and some of the other Western countries. In retaliation, Iran is refusing to supply oil to British and French firms. Reports are coming in about how dangerous it is to be an Iranian nuclear scientists. Apparently, if the car bombs don't get you, dudes with guns/killer cars will.
*sigh*
I was privileged to have had an opportunity to visit Iran back in the 90's. My impression was of a country frozen in the 70's, manic drivers, and air perfumed with thousands of years of history. It was there that I see what military presence in the capital looks like (men with AK-47s at street corners and in front of strategic buildings). These were left over from the war with Iraq. Nearly every Persian men have gone through national service and know how to bear arms. The Persians are almost one and all friendly and proud of their historical and cultural heritage. They can tell you which king was ruling Persia in 789 AD. They are not Arabs and do not speak Arabic. They have excellent desserts. Pistachio is cheap there.
The government is repressive, women can't wear bright colours and the people worry about who is eavesdropping on them. But they don't hate the West, or the Sunnis (unlike Sunnis who think that Shiites are no better than heathens) nor do they want world domination. The Iranians want to join the rest of the world and be able to progress just like everyone else. They won't abandon religion altogether in the pursuit of moderation and liberation.
I think that an attack on Iran would be a terrible mistake. It would definitely be a costly and protracted one, and the only winner will be those with oil and gas interest who will take this opportunity to rape the country.
This song encapsulates the feeling of the ordinary citizens at the height of the Cold War. I think the sentiments are still the same right now for all of us the world over. Let us hope that the rattling of the sabres remain just that and that no weapons get unsheathed (except for your friendly neighbourhood flashers).
Freddie, I am sure this song brings memories of your youth, no?
Showing posts with label spleen venting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spleen venting. Show all posts
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Monday, June 13, 2011
Things that make you go hmmm ...
There has been some furor over the Obedient Wives Club (sorry, no link to club, only reports) establishment. The main goal of the club, which many find offensive, is the idea that a wife should be a high-class hooker for her husband in bed in order for him to be happy and not leave them.
I suppose those ladies wants a return to the subservient Derma Taksiah who washed her husband's feet when he returned home and dried said appendage with her long and luxuriant hair. These are educated women, mind you. They have travelled and seen the world, yet they still hold such views.
Frankly, I thought the idea of the club should be offensive to men; bringing them down to the level of slobbering animals who care for nothing else but sex from their wives.
Although the club members avow that their point is about giving sexual satisfaction to their husbands will keep their marriage happy, it still smacks of a transaction between a hooker and a john. Lust without emotion. I give you something you want, you stay faithful to me. Quid pro quo. So why is it in this context, it appears as though a husband and wife cannot enjoy each other sexually in a mutually satisfying partnership without the need to lower one partner to the level of a sex worker?
The thing is, the Prophet Muhammad (Peace be upon him) did mention on the importance of sex in a relationship. That a wife is deserving of physical and spiritual succor. That it is the duty of the husband to give her satisfaction. But he also stressed on other factors that is vital for a relationship to work as well.
The marriage solemnisation in Islam has no mention of obedience; unlike the traditional Christian wedding vows. So I don't understand where did this idea of obedience and subservience to your husband comes from. The longest and most fulfilling marriage of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) was his first one with Siti Khadijah. She was older than him and was his boss to boot before they got hitched (she proposed to him, mind you.). He was monogamous with her and mourned her loss; it was some time after she passed away before he agreed to take another wife. He spoke of her fondly that some of his other wives were a little jealous of a dead woman.
Would an older woman likely to be subservient to her husband? I think not. An older woman would, however, likely to be a proper helpmeet and partner who will cherish her husband within the bedroom as well as without. It would appear that the secret of the success of their relationship did not hinge on whether Siti Khadijah knows the kama sutra, but rather because she was conversant with the Al-Quran.
I would like to think that men want a partner who is also a friend with whom they can converse; that they care for a smart woman who will raise their children well, and that they want someone who will cherish them even when the pole can no longer raise the flag.
But then again, perhaps I am just a hopeless romantic.
I suppose those ladies wants a return to the subservient Derma Taksiah who washed her husband's feet when he returned home and dried said appendage with her long and luxuriant hair. These are educated women, mind you. They have travelled and seen the world, yet they still hold such views.
Frankly, I thought the idea of the club should be offensive to men; bringing them down to the level of slobbering animals who care for nothing else but sex from their wives.
Although the club members avow that their point is about giving sexual satisfaction to their husbands will keep their marriage happy, it still smacks of a transaction between a hooker and a john. Lust without emotion. I give you something you want, you stay faithful to me. Quid pro quo. So why is it in this context, it appears as though a husband and wife cannot enjoy each other sexually in a mutually satisfying partnership without the need to lower one partner to the level of a sex worker?
The thing is, the Prophet Muhammad (Peace be upon him) did mention on the importance of sex in a relationship. That a wife is deserving of physical and spiritual succor. That it is the duty of the husband to give her satisfaction. But he also stressed on other factors that is vital for a relationship to work as well.
The marriage solemnisation in Islam has no mention of obedience; unlike the traditional Christian wedding vows. So I don't understand where did this idea of obedience and subservience to your husband comes from. The longest and most fulfilling marriage of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) was his first one with Siti Khadijah. She was older than him and was his boss to boot before they got hitched (she proposed to him, mind you.). He was monogamous with her and mourned her loss; it was some time after she passed away before he agreed to take another wife. He spoke of her fondly that some of his other wives were a little jealous of a dead woman.
Would an older woman likely to be subservient to her husband? I think not. An older woman would, however, likely to be a proper helpmeet and partner who will cherish her husband within the bedroom as well as without. It would appear that the secret of the success of their relationship did not hinge on whether Siti Khadijah knows the kama sutra, but rather because she was conversant with the Al-Quran.
I would like to think that men want a partner who is also a friend with whom they can converse; that they care for a smart woman who will raise their children well, and that they want someone who will cherish them even when the pole can no longer raise the flag.
But then again, perhaps I am just a hopeless romantic.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Looking into a mirror ...
... and despising what you see?
There is a possibility that you feel that way because your reflection isn't like the ideal that looks down at you from the billboard. You're not fair enough, your hair isn't straight/curly/thick enough, your flabby gut is laughably far away from the six-pack ideal, your boobs too small/big and so on and so forth.
But the truth is, even the models don't look like themselves. Cindy Crawford, the it girl of the nineties, was quoted to say, "I wish I looked like Cindy Crawford." She cheerfully acknowledgeD that her pictures were airbrushed to make her skin pore-less, her legs longer, her waist slimmer etc etc etc. All the pictures of celebrities and advertisement these days are photoshopped within an inch of its life. So if you are looking at those images for what is an ideal appearance, forget it. It is all LIES! LIES! LIES!
It is about time that we love ourselves for what we really are. Tall, short, thin, fat, flat, curvaceous, dark-skinned, light-skinned; those doesn't matter as much as the kindness in your heart and the love you extend to others.
I think the provision in Islam (and many other religions) to dress modestly is sound. When you dress in a way that does not emphasise on your appearance, you take your looks out of the equation. Then you will be judged not on how you look; but rather on your personality and abilities. Isn't that liberating? No more worrying about shaving your legs, or whether you have cankles or that you are bloated because your period is around the corner and you have muffin-top.
Unless of course, you are facing an idiot who firmly believes that covering your hair means you support terrorism.
@$$hole.
Stolen from here.
Transcript for darling Seorang Blogger from Natalie.
There is a possibility that you feel that way because your reflection isn't like the ideal that looks down at you from the billboard. You're not fair enough, your hair isn't straight/curly/thick enough, your flabby gut is laughably far away from the six-pack ideal, your boobs too small/big and so on and so forth.
But the truth is, even the models don't look like themselves. Cindy Crawford, the it girl of the nineties, was quoted to say, "I wish I looked like Cindy Crawford." She cheerfully acknowledgeD that her pictures were airbrushed to make her skin pore-less, her legs longer, her waist slimmer etc etc etc. All the pictures of celebrities and advertisement these days are photoshopped within an inch of its life. So if you are looking at those images for what is an ideal appearance, forget it. It is all LIES! LIES! LIES!
It is about time that we love ourselves for what we really are. Tall, short, thin, fat, flat, curvaceous, dark-skinned, light-skinned; those doesn't matter as much as the kindness in your heart and the love you extend to others.
I think the provision in Islam (and many other religions) to dress modestly is sound. When you dress in a way that does not emphasise on your appearance, you take your looks out of the equation. Then you will be judged not on how you look; but rather on your personality and abilities. Isn't that liberating? No more worrying about shaving your legs, or whether you have cankles or that you are bloated because your period is around the corner and you have muffin-top.
Unless of course, you are facing an idiot who firmly believes that covering your hair means you support terrorism.
@$$hole.
Stolen from here.
Transcript for darling Seorang Blogger from Natalie.
Friday, December 17, 2010
The quest for new authors to read (venturing into TL; DR territory)
As a reading addict, I am always looking for new authors to read. This is because unlike that woman in Misery, I don't have my favourite authors in chains at my beck and call. Some authors aim for 2-5 books a year (Yay!) and others may produce 1-2 books a year, or even 1 book per year or more. Now, I understand that writing a book is a long process and requires input from a great number of people from copy editors to test audience sometimes, but I need my habit fed, damn it.
To help me through the dry periods, I try new authors. I mostly read romance and all the associated sub-genres, but I have branched into fantasy and plain old fantasy whether romance is an element or not. I stopped reading thrillers and mystery in my late teens; I don't like reading the monstrous things humans perpetrate on one another. But I don't mind if the flesh tearing is done by a monster monster, if you know what I mean.
Sometimes I get lucky in my journey to find new authors to read; this was how I discovered Elizabeth Vaughan, Simon R Greene, Patricia Briggs, Mark Del Franco and Carrie Vaughn. These authors not only crafted worlds that are wondrous and immersing, but peopled with characters that you can love and hate and enjoy their triumphs and defeats. I am a character-driven reader; if I enjoy the character, I would slog through the book (even if it is painfully written) to the very end. Plot? What plot? If I were finicky about plots, I wouldn't be reading Sherrilyn Kenyon, fabulous as her 'verses are. I read her for the tormented and snarky Zarek, I look forward to hearing more from the adorably demented Simi and sex-on-legs Acheron and of course, for her kick-ass heroines like Tabitha and Bride.
I have been reading Jenna Black's The Devil Inside. The premise sounded interesting: kick ass exorcist possessed by what she hated most and having to deal with the aftermath. However, I do not enjoy Morgan Kingsley; I find her judgmental-ness off-putting. Now you may say that it could be part of her journey since The Devil Inside is the first book of the series and I should give her a chance to develop. After all, I gave Rachel Morgan (protagonist of Kim Harrison's The Hollow series) a chance although she was whiny and stupidly impetuous in the first book and now I've devoured everything Kim Harrison. But somehow I cannot like the way she made snide comments about another character's lifestyle choices. Frankly, if BDSM gay sex floats your boat, so what? If you find it gross or whatever, why on earth do you need to tell that person that he/she is gross/demented/sick/whatever?
IT'S A CHOICE, GOD DAMN IT. RESPECT OTHER PEOPLE'S CHOICES.
If it is a mutual pursuit between two (or even more) consenting adult, what is it to you? And for her to suddenly feel ashamed at her own voyeuristic pleasure at watching two men having sex, WTF is that? If she felt that way because she is religious and thinks that homosexuality is a sin, I get it. But she isn't. And there was a (pseudo?) rape scene at the end of the book that was just plain nasty. I get that it is to move the plot along, but it wasn't done very well or perhaps I just didn't like the way it was executed. Yes, mileage may vary but I still loathe it.
Phew. I have not ranted about a book so much since I finished reading Pullman's His Dark Materials. That was the only book I have ever read that I threw against the wall, I was that angry.
Reading a book that inaugurate a series can be like watching the pilot of a new show. If you hate it, you won't bother watching the rest even if it got better (Vampire Diaries, anyone?). I have been spoiled by Simon R Green, Elizabeth Vaughan, and Patricia Briggs who write books that just made me pick up and run. And then chase all the subsequent books in the series. Then of course there is the issue when the show (or book series) had jumped the shark. I still read Laurell K Hamilton's books even after many had claimed that she had moved into fan fiction territory (too much smut, too little plot). A lot of PWP, but I like the characters enough that I can live with the PWP (although I can name more than a dozen fan fiction writers who do EXCELLENT smut that is both hot and touching).
Seriously, trying out new authors can really be a gamble. But happily, when you win, you can really win big.
Kitty needs to read too.
To help me through the dry periods, I try new authors. I mostly read romance and all the associated sub-genres, but I have branched into fantasy and plain old fantasy whether romance is an element or not. I stopped reading thrillers and mystery in my late teens; I don't like reading the monstrous things humans perpetrate on one another. But I don't mind if the flesh tearing is done by a monster monster, if you know what I mean.
Sometimes I get lucky in my journey to find new authors to read; this was how I discovered Elizabeth Vaughan, Simon R Greene, Patricia Briggs, Mark Del Franco and Carrie Vaughn. These authors not only crafted worlds that are wondrous and immersing, but peopled with characters that you can love and hate and enjoy their triumphs and defeats. I am a character-driven reader; if I enjoy the character, I would slog through the book (even if it is painfully written) to the very end. Plot? What plot? If I were finicky about plots, I wouldn't be reading Sherrilyn Kenyon, fabulous as her 'verses are. I read her for the tormented and snarky Zarek, I look forward to hearing more from the adorably demented Simi and sex-on-legs Acheron and of course, for her kick-ass heroines like Tabitha and Bride.
I have been reading Jenna Black's The Devil Inside. The premise sounded interesting: kick ass exorcist possessed by what she hated most and having to deal with the aftermath. However, I do not enjoy Morgan Kingsley; I find her judgmental-ness off-putting. Now you may say that it could be part of her journey since The Devil Inside is the first book of the series and I should give her a chance to develop. After all, I gave Rachel Morgan (protagonist of Kim Harrison's The Hollow series) a chance although she was whiny and stupidly impetuous in the first book and now I've devoured everything Kim Harrison. But somehow I cannot like the way she made snide comments about another character's lifestyle choices. Frankly, if BDSM gay sex floats your boat, so what? If you find it gross or whatever, why on earth do you need to tell that person that he/she is gross/demented/sick/whatever?
IT'S A CHOICE, GOD DAMN IT. RESPECT OTHER PEOPLE'S CHOICES.
If it is a mutual pursuit between two (or even more) consenting adult, what is it to you? And for her to suddenly feel ashamed at her own voyeuristic pleasure at watching two men having sex, WTF is that? If she felt that way because she is religious and thinks that homosexuality is a sin, I get it. But she isn't. And there was a (pseudo?) rape scene at the end of the book that was just plain nasty. I get that it is to move the plot along, but it wasn't done very well or perhaps I just didn't like the way it was executed. Yes, mileage may vary but I still loathe it.
Phew. I have not ranted about a book so much since I finished reading Pullman's His Dark Materials. That was the only book I have ever read that I threw against the wall, I was that angry.
Reading a book that inaugurate a series can be like watching the pilot of a new show. If you hate it, you won't bother watching the rest even if it got better (Vampire Diaries, anyone?). I have been spoiled by Simon R Green, Elizabeth Vaughan, and Patricia Briggs who write books that just made me pick up and run. And then chase all the subsequent books in the series. Then of course there is the issue when the show (or book series) had jumped the shark. I still read Laurell K Hamilton's books even after many had claimed that she had moved into fan fiction territory (too much smut, too little plot). A lot of PWP, but I like the characters enough that I can live with the PWP (although I can name more than a dozen fan fiction writers who do EXCELLENT smut that is both hot and touching).
Seriously, trying out new authors can really be a gamble. But happily, when you win, you can really win big.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Don't be too hard on the youth today ...
... they can't help being what they are. If you are a GenX'er (or even a baby boomer) who is exasperated when dealing with a junior / student / whatever who belongs to the Generation Y, you are not alone.
Some have harshly dubbed the GenYs as the Dumbest Generation who believe everything they read on the Internet and are desperate for fame that they'd do the most hideous things to get the most hits on YouTube. Narcissistic and short-sighted, they are disdained as fame whores who have little understanding of privacy of self. They come across as figjams with a massive sense of self-entitlement. But is that really what they are or are we guilty of generalisation?
As a GenXer, one should be a little more understanding, coming from a tough sell generation that has been dubbed as cynical slackers with no real ambition or impact on the world. Yeah, no doubt you had moments of wanting to yank your hair out by the roots because the dumb intern refused to write a letter / e-mail without using gibberish texting acronyms (W U?!) but once upon a time someone else had bashed their head on the desk at the sight of you as well.
Frankly, I believe that the GenYers face a great deal more challenge than we did. They are bombarded with so many messages that rivals an ADHD with no Ritalin on a sugar high. Yes, they have the advantage of technology (home PC, laptops, highspeed Internet connection, mobile phones etc), but it also means more pressure for them to stay connected, to out-perform and to be the one to be noticed in a crowd. For those who lament that this generation do not know how to take care of themselves or do the simplest chores, remember that they are the generation raised by maids and had no other job except to study and go for tuition / dance / music / art classes.
GenYers are also under pressure to excel in a terrifying way. The pressure to take more than 10 subjects for their high school exam., to score all A's, to be the best athlete, the best performer, the best writer etc etc etc is something we never had to contend with. Granted that the SPM during our time was tough enough that getting 8 A's makes you the wunderkind of the district, sometimes even at state level. Since so many people are obtaining a gazillion of A's, university entrance become extremely competitive and they have to work ever so much harder to distinguish themselves from their peers.
We can afford a childhood rife with play time, exploring our neighbourhood with friends and generally just being a child. We had little fear of strangers and except for the odd, racist fear mongering of our elders ("If you are naughty, I will sell you to the cloth merchant Bengali!") we are relatively footloose and fancy free. We didn't worry about being bullied online (our bullies prefer being up close and personal), we didn't worry (overmuch) about passing the exams, we didn't worry about the environment that we were despoiling, we didn't worry on whether the economic cake was enough for us as well and ad nauseam the worries that plague kids born after 1990.
And many of us forget that the target of our rants are just a small percentage of the population of GenY. These are the privileged, middle to upper class kids who come from two income families. We forget those who slip between the cracks, the children of the urban poor (many who turn into Mat/Minah Rempit to spend their time or relieve the pressure they face) or the rural poor who struggles because they are not equipped to face the changing economy.
So let's not be an old fart and give the kids today a break.
Some have harshly dubbed the GenYs as the Dumbest Generation who believe everything they read on the Internet and are desperate for fame that they'd do the most hideous things to get the most hits on YouTube. Narcissistic and short-sighted, they are disdained as fame whores who have little understanding of privacy of self. They come across as figjams with a massive sense of self-entitlement. But is that really what they are or are we guilty of generalisation?
As a GenXer, one should be a little more understanding, coming from a tough sell generation that has been dubbed as cynical slackers with no real ambition or impact on the world. Yeah, no doubt you had moments of wanting to yank your hair out by the roots because the dumb intern refused to write a letter / e-mail without using gibberish texting acronyms (W U?!) but once upon a time someone else had bashed their head on the desk at the sight of you as well.
Frankly, I believe that the GenYers face a great deal more challenge than we did. They are bombarded with so many messages that rivals an ADHD with no Ritalin on a sugar high. Yes, they have the advantage of technology (home PC, laptops, highspeed Internet connection, mobile phones etc), but it also means more pressure for them to stay connected, to out-perform and to be the one to be noticed in a crowd. For those who lament that this generation do not know how to take care of themselves or do the simplest chores, remember that they are the generation raised by maids and had no other job except to study and go for tuition / dance / music / art classes.
GenYers are also under pressure to excel in a terrifying way. The pressure to take more than 10 subjects for their high school exam., to score all A's, to be the best athlete, the best performer, the best writer etc etc etc is something we never had to contend with. Granted that the SPM during our time was tough enough that getting 8 A's makes you the wunderkind of the district, sometimes even at state level. Since so many people are obtaining a gazillion of A's, university entrance become extremely competitive and they have to work ever so much harder to distinguish themselves from their peers.
We can afford a childhood rife with play time, exploring our neighbourhood with friends and generally just being a child. We had little fear of strangers and except for the odd, racist fear mongering of our elders ("If you are naughty, I will sell you to the cloth merchant Bengali!") we are relatively footloose and fancy free. We didn't worry about being bullied online (our bullies prefer being up close and personal), we didn't worry (overmuch) about passing the exams, we didn't worry about the environment that we were despoiling, we didn't worry on whether the economic cake was enough for us as well and ad nauseam the worries that plague kids born after 1990.
And many of us forget that the target of our rants are just a small percentage of the population of GenY. These are the privileged, middle to upper class kids who come from two income families. We forget those who slip between the cracks, the children of the urban poor (many who turn into Mat/Minah Rempit to spend their time or relieve the pressure they face) or the rural poor who struggles because they are not equipped to face the changing economy.
So let's not be an old fart and give the kids today a break.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Till death do us part
Guys, if you want to keep your marriage, this is the tip ...
Help out with the house work.
This is the findings by Dr Wendy Sigle-Rushton of the London School of Economics. Yes, it was published in a reputable peer reviewed, ISI-indexed journal . You can believe it. It was the outcome of a scientific research. And yes, she works for the leading social science institution in the world.
*rolls eyes*
I mean, c'mon. Common sense, what? You have a household with both partners chipping into the kitty. Your woman also goes to work (just like you!), gets shit shovelled on her by her boss and colleagues (just like you!), gets stuck in commute/traffic (just like you!), is tired and stressed (just like you!), and gets paid less than her male peers (fuckin' unlike you!!!).
She goes home to the breakfast dishes still piled in the sink, the rugrat(s) squalling for her attention and you demanding dinner. So she rolls up her sleeves, starts on dinner and while it's bubbling on the stove, she washes the dishes. What do you do? Sit in front of the tv, beverage in hand ranting about how your favourite team was being ripped off by an unfair referee.
After dinner, you may desultorily play with said rugrat(s) while she cleans up the kitchen, do the laundry (not just dumping the wash in the machine, mind you; this includes folding the clean laundry, putting them away, ironing whatever for tomorrow), makes a grocery list (she just discovered that you put the empty milk/juice carton back in the fridge instead of tossing it into the recycleables bin), check the homework of older rugrats, tidies their toys away etc etc etc.
Once your rough-housing made said rugrat cry, you return him/her to your woman to calm him/her down while you go off for your shower, proud that you've been a fantastic daddy and spent quality time with your progeny. After that was the sacred hour with the boob tube, then you lock down the house in preparation of going to bed. Mean time, your woman has her own shower (after tucking in the kids, making sure their bags are all ready for school the next day, read the same Dr Seuss book for the gazillionth time for bedtime story without puking) and slides under the covers for a comfy 30 minute with the book she bought two months ago but hasn't had the time to finish.
When you come to bed, she'd already nodded off, but you were feeling frisky and wanted a little lovin'.
And then you wonder why she gets this way.
Tsk tsk.
Seriously guys. She's not asking for much. Put up the toilet seat. Toss your dirty clothes in the hamper. Stack stuff in the dishwasher. Mow the lawn. Do the grocery shopping. And if she gives you hell for not doing it the "right" way, it's because she's been doing it for a long time and knows how to do it well and efficiently. Be a little patient.
Besides, if she's not worn from doing too much, she's more welcoming to your amorous advances.
*grin*
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Why do you want to know who I want to sleep with?
Kids these days grow up too quickly. Don't believe me? Apparently, there is a need to identify your sexuality from as young an age as eleven years. I mean, your sexuality is your business, no? Why is there a need to let people know whether you are straight, gay, lesbian or whatever under the sun?
In Islam, you are defined by the good deeds that you do, not your skin colour, wealth or looks, much less whether you'd rather shag Daphne or Shaggy. If we believe that we are such an advanced society, isn't it time that we adopt a more egalitarian approach towards self identity?
Why are children feeling pressured to identify to others where lies their attraction? They are unlikely (please God) to be acting on it any time soon. Is it because their peers make it a point to tease them about their mannerisms and inclination? Why aren't these little monsters taught basic decency and courtesy? Calling people names and bullying should never to be tolerated.
Your sexuality is your business. And your partner of course (because getting married when you are NOT sexually attracted to your spouse is NOT a good idea). Is it because we are bombarded with sexuality everywhere; from books to advertisements to movies and even children's cartoon? If you think the latter is outlandish, try watching the Disney Princess animation movies and other shows geared towards the tween sets. So many characters (Bratz anyone?) wore clothes that we would commonly associate with exotic dancers. Why would you put on a midriff-baring halter neck on a child with no secondary sexual characteristics? Is it cute? Is it attractive? Isn't it a clothing item associated with expoiting a woman's appearance? Are you trying to turn your child into a sexual object?
*shudder*
Shows like Queer as Folk and The L Word is passing on the message that it is vital to shove your sexuality down other people's throat. Me, I believe in live and let live. Why should I care if the two handsome men next door are shagging each other? (bloody waste, actually) Or that little Kiki has two mommies who are married to each other (as opposed to the same man)? There are many judgmental people in this world, yes, but does forcing the issue of your personal choice on other people helps?
Children shouldn't have to categorise themselves this way. There is enough pressure to perform well academically, in sports, in being popular etc etc etc. They should have plenty of time to sort through their emotions and feelings before making any kind of decisions that will impact their entire life. Yes, one would know at an early age (around pre-puberty) regarding one's sexual orientation, but it does not need to be trumpeted. To what purpose? Acceptance?
Really?
Or will it bring more angst and rejection? Please, stop forcing the children to grow up too quickly and viewing themselves as sex objects. Because that is what they do when they start fomenting about whether they are gay or bisexual or asexual or whatever. It is important to accept a child regardless of their orientation but please don't push them to make a choice before they are ready.
Besides which, why should you make a choice and not pick the smorgasmbord?
Just sayin'.
*grin*
P/S Sorry not much linky links; just wanted to get the rant out of my chest, no time to do more research. Mea culpa.
In Islam, you are defined by the good deeds that you do, not your skin colour, wealth or looks, much less whether you'd rather shag Daphne or Shaggy. If we believe that we are such an advanced society, isn't it time that we adopt a more egalitarian approach towards self identity?
Why are children feeling pressured to identify to others where lies their attraction? They are unlikely (please God) to be acting on it any time soon. Is it because their peers make it a point to tease them about their mannerisms and inclination? Why aren't these little monsters taught basic decency and courtesy? Calling people names and bullying should never to be tolerated.
Your sexuality is your business. And your partner of course (because getting married when you are NOT sexually attracted to your spouse is NOT a good idea). Is it because we are bombarded with sexuality everywhere; from books to advertisements to movies and even children's cartoon? If you think the latter is outlandish, try watching the Disney Princess animation movies and other shows geared towards the tween sets. So many characters (Bratz anyone?) wore clothes that we would commonly associate with exotic dancers. Why would you put on a midriff-baring halter neck on a child with no secondary sexual characteristics? Is it cute? Is it attractive? Isn't it a clothing item associated with expoiting a woman's appearance? Are you trying to turn your child into a sexual object?
*shudder*
Shows like Queer as Folk and The L Word is passing on the message that it is vital to shove your sexuality down other people's throat. Me, I believe in live and let live. Why should I care if the two handsome men next door are shagging each other? (bloody waste, actually) Or that little Kiki has two mommies who are married to each other (as opposed to the same man)? There are many judgmental people in this world, yes, but does forcing the issue of your personal choice on other people helps?
Children shouldn't have to categorise themselves this way. There is enough pressure to perform well academically, in sports, in being popular etc etc etc. They should have plenty of time to sort through their emotions and feelings before making any kind of decisions that will impact their entire life. Yes, one would know at an early age (around pre-puberty) regarding one's sexual orientation, but it does not need to be trumpeted. To what purpose? Acceptance?
Really?
Or will it bring more angst and rejection? Please, stop forcing the children to grow up too quickly and viewing themselves as sex objects. Because that is what they do when they start fomenting about whether they are gay or bisexual or asexual or whatever. It is important to accept a child regardless of their orientation but please don't push them to make a choice before they are ready.
Besides which, why should you make a choice and not pick the smorgasmbord?
Just sayin'.
*grin*
P/S Sorry not much linky links; just wanted to get the rant out of my chest, no time to do more research. Mea culpa.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Mourning My National Museum
I had read in the Utusan Malaysia today on the plan to bring the Mona Lisa to be exhibited at the National Art Gallery. How exciting! Although I am pretty darn far from the artsy-fartsy lover, I am of the school of knowing-what-I-like-and-appreciating-it when it comes to art. I enjoyed immensely my few visits to the National Art Gallery to look at the Lat retrospective exhibition and the Tun Dr Mahathir photography commemoration. There were other stuff there which were pretty nice and I loved the Mobius strip-like central staircase of the gallery. However, I will admit to not enjoying the 3D sculptures: if I can't identify immediately what it is, I'm not interested.
I must say that the National Art Gallery is very well organised and planned to enhance the contribution of the arts to the collective national agenda. Granted they don't appear to publicise their doings loudly enough, but my visits showed that the exhibits are well-presented and current by changing the exhibit themes. This brought to mind the sad state of the National Museum.
The last international level exhibition to be found at the museum was I think in 1994: the Beauty Through Suffering exhibition. It was mostly a collection of photographs and artifacts showcasing the various methods and instruments used in the pursuit of beauty from the world over. Every continent was presented in colour and gore. The African scarification, the South American porcupine needle piercing to name a few (not to mention insane plastic surgeries of the West). It was a fantastic exhibition and you walk away with something new and thoughts to ponder.
When you speak of the heydays of the National Museum, you must recall the fantastical Khazanah dari Kubur or Treasures from the Grave exhibition in 1991. It was astounding. Funerary artifacts from the world over was gathered at the National Museum: from shrunken heads, to mummified remains from South America to the glorious golden sarcophagus of Tutankhamun. The entire exhibited smelled of earth, suspended decay and rot, but that did not deter visitors from gazing in awe at how inventive man has been in honouring and processing the dead. They even extended the showcase due to the tremendous response not just from Malaysian citizens but also from foreign visitors.
These glorious past can be laid down to the doors of Dato' Shahrum Yob, the then-curator of the National Museum. He braved lambasting from religious leaders and cynical detractors to bring history to life in the museum. His exhibitions were often innovative, well-designed and comprehensively researched with an artistic eye for presentation. He did not only look abroad for inspiration of his exhibits, but also at the local flavours; quite literally when he had the durian exhibition in the 1980s. I remember a cartoon by Lat of this momentous occasion of him eating durian with the ministers outside the museum, impeccably clad in a well-cut suit and an immaculately knotted bow tie.
I met him once at the University Malaya library and I bitterly regretted not having anything on me for him to autograph (I doubt the librarian would let me keep the book I had on me for momento sake). His tall and lean body was as immaculately dressed as his Lat caricature, and he spoke carefully and courteously in his well-modulated voice (I seem to use the word well a lot in relation to Dato' Shahrum). His Malay bore traces of his youth in Perak, the cadence and words so familiar to me as those from my father's lips. Ah, Dato' Shahrum, how I missed your curatorship.
My last visit to the National Museum was to the Misteri Alam Ghaib exhibition. It was touted to be an exploration of the mystical supernatural beliefs of South East Asia. I didn't have high expectations of it but my God what a horrific disappointment. The exhibit looked as though it was researched and constructed by a team of school children (which is an insult to all school-going children, mea culpa). The highlight of the exhibition was this tiny bottle said to contain a jenglot and a hantu galah sculpture. You walk through the exhibit in less than 10 minutes: there was nothing of note to see. The research was one-dimensional and shoddy; something amazing considering the richness of mystical lore of the region. There was so much more that they could have done: include the books and films done in horror genre produced in the country for example (e.g. Sumpah Pontianak, Sumpah Orang Minyak, Pontianak Harum Sundal Malam, etc.), use a different approach to present the material, include more details and so on. But what can you expect when from the museum when the Ming vase exhibition artifact was labelled thus,"Mangkuk. Biru. China" (i.e Bowl, Blue, China).
YOU ARE THE FREAKIN' NATIONAL MUSEUM!!!!!
*tears out hair by clumps*
The very least you can do is include the dating of the specimen and the region it was found, for the love of God. If you are not colour blind, you can see that it IS A BOWL THAT IS BLUE IN COLOUR. When I saw that label I was nearly tearful with rage: how could you prepare an exhibition with such hideous labelling at THE FREAKIN' NATIONAL MUSEUM!!!!!
*expletives deleted*
Sigh. I should look up the curator and write him a letter, no?
*facepalm*
I must say that the National Art Gallery is very well organised and planned to enhance the contribution of the arts to the collective national agenda. Granted they don't appear to publicise their doings loudly enough, but my visits showed that the exhibits are well-presented and current by changing the exhibit themes. This brought to mind the sad state of the National Museum.
The last international level exhibition to be found at the museum was I think in 1994: the Beauty Through Suffering exhibition. It was mostly a collection of photographs and artifacts showcasing the various methods and instruments used in the pursuit of beauty from the world over. Every continent was presented in colour and gore. The African scarification, the South American porcupine needle piercing to name a few (not to mention insane plastic surgeries of the West). It was a fantastic exhibition and you walk away with something new and thoughts to ponder.
When you speak of the heydays of the National Museum, you must recall the fantastical Khazanah dari Kubur or Treasures from the Grave exhibition in 1991. It was astounding. Funerary artifacts from the world over was gathered at the National Museum: from shrunken heads, to mummified remains from South America to the glorious golden sarcophagus of Tutankhamun. The entire exhibited smelled of earth, suspended decay and rot, but that did not deter visitors from gazing in awe at how inventive man has been in honouring and processing the dead. They even extended the showcase due to the tremendous response not just from Malaysian citizens but also from foreign visitors.
These glorious past can be laid down to the doors of Dato' Shahrum Yob, the then-curator of the National Museum. He braved lambasting from religious leaders and cynical detractors to bring history to life in the museum. His exhibitions were often innovative, well-designed and comprehensively researched with an artistic eye for presentation. He did not only look abroad for inspiration of his exhibits, but also at the local flavours; quite literally when he had the durian exhibition in the 1980s. I remember a cartoon by Lat of this momentous occasion of him eating durian with the ministers outside the museum, impeccably clad in a well-cut suit and an immaculately knotted bow tie.
I met him once at the University Malaya library and I bitterly regretted not having anything on me for him to autograph (I doubt the librarian would let me keep the book I had on me for momento sake). His tall and lean body was as immaculately dressed as his Lat caricature, and he spoke carefully and courteously in his well-modulated voice (I seem to use the word well a lot in relation to Dato' Shahrum). His Malay bore traces of his youth in Perak, the cadence and words so familiar to me as those from my father's lips. Ah, Dato' Shahrum, how I missed your curatorship.
My last visit to the National Museum was to the Misteri Alam Ghaib exhibition. It was touted to be an exploration of the mystical supernatural beliefs of South East Asia. I didn't have high expectations of it but my God what a horrific disappointment. The exhibit looked as though it was researched and constructed by a team of school children (which is an insult to all school-going children, mea culpa). The highlight of the exhibition was this tiny bottle said to contain a jenglot and a hantu galah sculpture. You walk through the exhibit in less than 10 minutes: there was nothing of note to see. The research was one-dimensional and shoddy; something amazing considering the richness of mystical lore of the region. There was so much more that they could have done: include the books and films done in horror genre produced in the country for example (e.g. Sumpah Pontianak, Sumpah Orang Minyak, Pontianak Harum Sundal Malam, etc.), use a different approach to present the material, include more details and so on. But what can you expect when from the museum when the Ming vase exhibition artifact was labelled thus,"Mangkuk. Biru. China" (i.e Bowl, Blue, China).
YOU ARE THE FREAKIN' NATIONAL MUSEUM!!!!!
*tears out hair by clumps*
The very least you can do is include the dating of the specimen and the region it was found, for the love of God. If you are not colour blind, you can see that it IS A BOWL THAT IS BLUE IN COLOUR. When I saw that label I was nearly tearful with rage: how could you prepare an exhibition with such hideous labelling at THE FREAKIN' NATIONAL MUSEUM!!!!!
*expletives deleted*
Sigh. I should look up the curator and write him a letter, no?
*facepalm*
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)