I read this a couple of days ago and laughed. Why would you need to plan to do nothing? You just…Do. Or don’t, as logic follows. But I realised you can’t run from decisions. Earlier today, while preparing lunch, I kept getting bugged to choose a DVD. My response? TV, please; I’m too sleepy to do something as energy-consuming as watch a movie.

“Are you that brain dead or…[and a pause]…stupid that you need to actually concentrate on a DVD?” came the counter.

Chhhyeah! Movie watching involves actually keeping your mind processing lights and sound for a good two hours. TV isn’t counted, since not very much brainwork goes into it, and you get to think in half-hour blocks, anyway. I have the attention span of a five year old. I’m not one for endurance.

It was between that and surfing for Prince of Persia cheats, anyway. Since I have very little self-respect or principles in the video-gaming aspect, I have no qualms boasting about how easily I finished a game with the cheat. I’m all about the end-results.

And nothing beats an afternoon of channel-surfing bad TV, intermittently yelling “zhou hei¹!” and spoiling touching moments for whoever’s watching with me.

Whilst channel-surfing, I noticed a trailer for an Idol-like show on a Chinese channel, and it went on and on about how talented the contestants were, and how this year was the year for talent-combing, and how they never expected to come across this sort of talent. Right afterwards, an ad for one of the show’s sponsors popped up, and the tagline, to my best translation went, “Impart vigour to your hair now with us, the one and only hair-colour specialist imparting all of the contestants’ personality, talent and looks!”

Touché.

¹ Cantonese jeer for “show-making!”, meaning: it’s just a show, it’s fake, it’s contrived, it’s rubbish.

We interrupt this post for a seldom-permitted all-caps message:

CONGRATULATIONS TO ANGEL ON PASSING HER DRIVING TEST ON THE FIRST TRY!

Reading my old blog archives (which you won’t have access to, since I removed it after I stopped using Blogger to publish) out of curiosity to locate my old post about passing driving, to compare the level of exuberance reported, I inadvertently stumbled across a whole bunch of super, ultra emo posts.

Or at least that’s what I thought till I scrolled down to the next 20, and realised they were all emo.

Blame it on angsty youth, on an earlier enthusiasm for unabashed spewing, perhaps. Or maybe my life has just slowed down to an alarmingly uninteresting state in general—the more likely conclusion; but after four years of blogging, I’ve perhaps finally reached a belated state of self-consciousness I never realised I possessed before (based on the notion that bloggers typically reach that point in approximately a quarter of the time), raised by a string of incidences with people-other-than-friends commenting on my blog in person. Finding that people from work, Church (and in the past—school committees) were reading, I must’ve started to censor myself subconsciously.

Only I didn’t realise it till now. My “old” way of censorship was just to substitute names with “the”, “her”, “him”. Though admittedly effective, because I found myself recalling with difficultly exactly whothehell I was talking about, I suppose that ran its course and died, living out its usefulness.

Here’s an old, emo post back in the day when I was all e.e. cummings-ly low-capped for your perusal. What? Who? Where? When? I know—It’s ridiculous. I still can’t make out who I was talking about yet, but I have an inkling. Enjoy!