Sunday, October 22, 2006

I have no idea why, but I've been in a bad mood lately. My typing in Microsoft Word is so incredibly furious and misguided enough to make that paperclip dude collapse in exhaustion and the red and green squiggly lines apply for protest on the basis of being overworked. The stuff out of my mouth has become so foul I probably need a catalytic converter fitted into my mouth by the time all this is over.

Strange part is, it doesn't seem to be happening to just me. Everyone seems to have something to be frustrated at these days. That cashier with the Hong Kong accent, the disgruntled customer with the unestablished gender, the pompous notes that refuse to be studied, the strawberry milk that smudged aforementioned notes, the terrible movie about playstations that you wasted weekend fees on, the list goes on...........and on............and on.

This isn't to say that anger is bad, after all. All it does is cloud the mind and raise an urge to form a fist and strike someone. Beyond that, anger is simply the result of passion. The hot air rises inside you to clear the air, because when heat increases molecules move further about, allowing a clearer view for the eye of the mind, unaffected by the haze.

(Ohmygoodnessijustmademultiplebadjokes)

On a completely different tangent, however, I had the worst bus ride a couple days ago. Imagine the PSI being relatively high, say, a hundred. Now imagine being in an air-con less bus. Imagine being on the second level of a double-decker air-con less bus. that would be really smoky. And I mean, smoky to the extent that you could cook a slice of ham by holding it up against the wind. And I probably would have, if it wasn't for the goddamn rubbish truck slowrolling in front of the bus. Add that to two AhBengs randomly swearing in dialect at the back of the bus, at all kinds of things including(but not limited to) the weather, the AhLians who snubbed them, the cigarettes they never smoked properly, Jolin Tsai, William Hung and Texas cowboys who drew faster than they ever did in art class.

Some minds you can leave alone, happy with the knowledge that it's trapped in a metaphorical box. Other minds are dangerous if its owners let them go where they wish to wander. I think I know what type my mind is. And it's not comforting knowledge, to say the least.

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