anotherlongshot (anotherlongshot) wrote,
anotherlongshot
anotherlongshot

I can drag you down and cloud what once seemed clear.

I wish I had written this:


Holding it in: bumbling rhetoric from a love struck fool.

[Author's name omitted] has stars in his eyes and lust in his pants for a lady friend who most definitely fans his fire. Here he reveals, that yes indeed, the modern man is susceptible to feelings of vulnerability and does fall victim to emotional roulette in the quest to determine whether or not to put the hysterical confessions of undying love on hold.

No I’m not talking about number ones. Or even premature ejaculation. No, what I’m talking about is much more profound, but still equally as pathetic. Sometimes, us men actually do feel genuine love. Like, actual feelings from the bottom of our crusty souls. Shocking I know, but bear with me.

Falling in love with a good friend is possibly one of the most idiotic things a guy could ever do. Especially when it’s been several years, and especially when you’ve basically gotten to the stage where you’re pretty much un-dateable. Not only does it provide a multitude of deadly pitfalls, it also has hazardous side effects to your daily life. Yes, there is a reason why I’ve been listening to Westlife on infinite loop as of late.

This leads to the unfortunate situation where expressing said love feels as unrealistic to us as season 2 of the OC. Next, natural progression leads us to conjure up a bible of excuses as to why we can’t, when the reality is that we have once again lost our balls at the critical moment. The most pathetic excuse must be this classic – “Oh, I can’t, we’re been friends for too long, this will just screw everything up. Nah, [there's] no way I’m telling her, I’ll sacrifice love for our friendship. Oh woe is me. FML”. Cue endless whining until the cows come home. Cue even more endless whining when we realize that approximately 0.0021 percent of chicks will actually make the first move. Vintage isn’t it? If there was a cliché hall of fame, this would definitely occupy the highest pedestal, handily pulverizing any rival clichés before it.

Now spare a thought for our friends who inevitably are left to bear the brunt of the endless whining that typically ensues. Considering the 21st century has exponentially increased whining efficiency through the likes of mobile phones, instant messaging and Facebook, this is like facing a firing squad whilst wearing a bulletproof vest. Bear in mind that generation Y does have twice the average whining resistance than that of generation X, but this struggles to even offset the addition of Facebook alone. Any Facebook user would know the phenomenon of the “status update”, a feature notoriously abused by your everyday whiner. Typically, in this situation, you’ll find that we periodically update our status every few hours. Each subsequent status is essentially a cryptic message insinuating that the apocalypse is nigh, but thanks to subtle changes, provide the illusion that the update was actually worthwhile. [It's] times like these that a parent is thankful their communication style with their son is akin to that of two mutes.

It may seem slightly hypocritical that I have spent the better part of too many words whining about whiny love struck “men” since a) I am one currently a member of this stereotype and b) I represent the stereotype to a T. The whining is a natural by product of our current emotional state. It’s like someone incessantly brushing their teeth 7 hours before their dentist appointment – we just can’t help it.

Now what I’m about to say does slightly contradict the very first line of this article, and by slightly, I mean completely. It is often said that holding in our wee wees until the brink is the most painful thing a man can endure. Well I’d put holding in our man love in on the same level. In both instances, you’ll most likely catch us grimacing like an atomic bomb has detonated in our crotch.

Only god knows why you’re still reading. If [it's] because you’re still looking for my point, alas, I don’t have one. Having a point is overrated anyway, especially when your judgement is being clouded by the hypnotic effects of the opposite sex.


However, I know that comedy is not my thing, unless you count condescending remarks towards others that not-so-subtly suggest how smart I think I am - which I don't. As such, I will simply sit back and admire what I honestly think is quite a brilliant piece of humorous writing. I don't say this very often. I certainly don't feel very often that I wish I had written an article that wasn't published in a reputable magazine or journal, let alone a humorous one.

I have been forced of late to consider whether I am pretentious, or come across as pretentious to people who are not my friends and therefore don't already love me for who I am, all my arrogance and self-importance included. Having written the preceding paragraph, in particular the last sentence, I may have to concede that I am slightly pretentious.

On second thought, no, I still absolutely reject this accusation. If "pretentious" is defined as such:



Attempting to impress by affecting greater importance, talent, culture, etc., than is actually possessed.


then I fail to see how it applies to me. In the first place, who do I care enough about to try to impress? Who could give less of a shit? In the second place, I possess exactly the importance, talent, culture, etc that I think I possess. Am I a show-off? Yes. Am I a snob? Definitely. Am I arrogant? This question does not even need to be asked because the answer is screamingly obvious. But "pretentious"? I reject this charge completely.

***

Anyway, on another note, I read this article in the Taipei Times after my mom reminded me of the Taiwanese presidential elections that will take place on 14 January 2012. I've known for a while that James Soong entered the race and poses a great threat to Ma Ying-jeou's bid for re-election as they are both from KMT. What I did not know, however, is just how much of a threat Soong is:


Almost two in three “buyers,” or 65.6 percent, said that Tsai would win the election, while 30.8 percent predicted a victory for Ma, who had been leading Tsai before Soong entered the race on Nov. 4.


What was Soong thinking? I don't have anything against Tsai per se except that she's from the DPP; more importantly, despite his tendency to bend over to China, I actually still quite like Ma. He's a rare example of a politician who is more honest than not, less corrupt than not. Furthermore, I don't see how Tsai, or anyone from the DPP, or any Taiwanese politician really, can even hope to advance the Taiwanese agenda during her term in office*.

Ergo, the DPP cannot occupy the presidential seat again. In view of the high possibility of vote-splitting between Soong and Ma that might just lead to a Tsai victory, I am absolutely convinced that Soong, unbeknownst to his KMT colleagues, actually deflected and is a DPP mole.

Fucking shenanigans.

(*Of course, a Taiwanese president cares, and should care, about more than just Taiwanese independence, etc. However, thankfully I don't live there anymore and Taiwan's domestic issues aren't really my concern, selfish as it is for me to say. I'm really only interested in Taiwan's international status for now. It's probably not even a huge issue amongst the Taiwanese but it's something that I can never, ever get over. Ever.)

***

I had a course on Banking today that will go on for the next two days. The trainer did the right thing by asking for our backgrounds before she started on the course. When she learned that I was from law, she made a special note of the fact, and when she made us do some case study involving some banks' financial income statements or whatever, she came over to me and gave me a special one-on-one crash course on how to analyse the gibberish that was in front of me.

It was very nice of her. The bad news is, I still didn't understand a thing.

This is getting increasingly unsatisfying. Apart from how I find it utterly inefficient to schedule employees with actual work to do for classes 10 days in a row, I'm starting to feel like a jack of a few trades and a master of none. My fetish for specialisation is starting to kick in. I need to be good - expert, really - at something, a few things that I care about, and my current employment simply isn't cutting it.

I need an offer from LSE.

Even then, I still don't know where the hell my life is going. I still feel like I'm constantly turning my back on what I really want to do, out of cowardice; because I still don't feel like I can do it or commit to it. I wish I had the deluded self-confidence of one who utterly lacks self-awareness and has no idea that what one thinks of as one's talent is really a joke to the discerning individual. On another level, the words aren't coming out as easily; I haven't been writing anything since 2008. This is such a travesty. I don't know what I'm doing with my life. All I know is that this, whatever I have right now, that from which I walked away, isn't cutting it, did not cut it, will not cut it.

The Masters, really, is merely a gambit that I hope would pay off, but honestly, I lied so hard in my personal statements. I don't know if that's what I want. It's probably not, not really, not honestly. But I feel like it's something that I have to do to, first, satisfy my ego; and second, find a direction, any direction, even if it's one that's not so intuitive and not on the top of my list.

I quoted the article above - it's written by a new friend that I've made recently, one of the people that I've talked to on the tennis forum that I mentioned in the previous entry that wasn't a one-liner - because I couldn't help but wonder (though I didn't ask - yet) why someone who obviously had some flair, to say the very least, for writing and humour didn't seem to be pursuing it (though he may be; like I said, I didn't ask). Then it made me think of myself and the direction that my life has taken. While I appreciate that many people would kill to be in my shoes, I hope these people, and others, similarly appreciate that other people's envy is absolutely no consolation to me when I think about what I turned my back on, what I failed to pursue, what I gave up. It wasn't even a conscious decision, not really; I just couldn't commit. It was - it is - too easy not caring, not bothering, procrastinating, thinking that there will always be a future waiting for me to utilise.

I'm 25. I'm 26 next year. If I don't get into a decent Masters programme, I am stuck with my current job for god knows how long. If I do get into a decent Masters programme, that's another year spent on what's quite frankly a divergence from what I want.

And yet, even as I write this and post it, I know that I'm not going to do anything about it. It's just the way I am. I am passive, I am conservative, I am extremely spoiled, I like my comfortable life, I don't like change. Above all else, I am a moral coward. I just can't do it. For whatever reason, I just can't do it.
Tags: friends, personal, politics, taiwan, work, writing
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