Maybe We’ll See A Singaporean Mermaid.

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I had originally thought of doing a piece, article of the day or week or month. Then I found out I was pretty lazy and thus shall coin this section, “I feel like writing an article on an article”. So there you go.

The article in question this time comes from our dearly beloved Straits Times: http://www.straitstimes.com/breaking-news/singapore/story/marina-expressway-be-ready-year-end-20130517.

The piece starts off with not only an accurate description of public funded bureaucracy but dwells into the needless intricacies of “Baking With Precious Stones 101″, “Finishing touches are being applied on the MCE”. It’s like at the end of a long and winding road, when they’ve finally finished the billion dollar birthday cake that comes complete with a pop up buttered hoe that would make a 90 year old have a hard on and enough light refracted from diamonds to make a blind man go blind again. How utterly delightful.

Still, a breakdown of the costs ARE necessary of course, to ensure that everything is spent in prim and proper order worthy of the Looting Thieving Assholes (or LTA, for short). Out of 4.3 billion dollars;

1.5 billion – Spent building the road itself
0.3 billion – Spent ensuring the 420m undersea tunnel is fully air conditioned, fitted with bullet proof glass, speed cameras and ERP gantries.
2 billion – Spent building an underwater aquarium around the undersea tunnel, and populating it with sea life.
0.5 billion – Spent on Loo Suck You’s bonus for a job well done, the master has needs just like us you know.

Money has to be made from it however, and frankly with only the ERP gantries it will take roughly 10 years to cover the full cost, which is unacceptable. How can we milk the natives further you ask? Well then, the undersea tunnel is just the thing, plus it promotes safety! Singaporeans being Singaporeans while driving in the undersea tunnel, will slow down and start taking snapshots with their iSlaves while placating their children who are jumping out of the car like breathing pogo sticks, waiting for the sharks to eat the little fish, which is ironic considering that’s what’s gonna happen to them in a few years. The undersea tunnel will then be branded as a tourist destination that rivals that of the South East Asia Aquarium, and that of Gardens By The Bay, both Ironic figures themselves. Yes ironic, not iconic and this will be no different.

They’ll break even in 2 years, and in that same period reduce the number of accidents on the road, with bonuses for everyone except you, me and 99.8% of the country. Move over Singa you old lion fart, and make way for “Under The Bay”.

They’re still laughing.

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You hear the whispers
And at the corner of your eye,
the stares with giggling that soon follow
Menacing, really, it’s always you

You, they’re talking about.
Center of all their little jokes
that you never hear of
You, they’re making fun of.

The years go by
but nothing really changes
it’s 2013
and they’re still laughing.

It’s not about where you’ve been
or what you’ve seen

There will always be ‘them’
and then there’s you.
A victim then
and a victim now.

Careless, helpless
The gears of time may click
some things never change
and old habits do so stick.

You were a victim then
and you’re a victim now

this misery sees no end
salvation is close but out of reach
the comfort of an old friend
a longing heart that needs

more than a simple stitch.

For you.

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Ambitions are dreams you want to achieve. It can also be a percentage to keep you going in life. The importance of your ambition can be seen from your perseverance, e.g. what is stopping you? Can you do anything about it?

When you can’t find the right answer like “pigs can fly impossible” it shows your ambition is not as important as what is stopping you from it.

For some, it may be financial issues, language barriers, self-control, unsupportive parents, even the country itself. You have to understand, we only require food, air and water to survive and secondarily,clothing and shelter.

Would you rather, scrimp on leftovers you barely earn from your work you probably hate, or would you rather scrimp on leftovers you barely earn from your work you love? Do you want to wake up each day dreading it or looking forward to it? Would you like to sit on your butt all day always depending on people and not be able to move a step with your very own will or would you rather have the confidence to do whatever you want with your own free will?

Are you able to convince your parents of the steps you want to take for your own dreams and aspirations? Are you able to let go of your pride and start small? Are you willing to learn and follow? Are you able to earn with your very own hands with gratitude, knowing this is for your aspirations? Are you going to let the talent God deposited into your very inner soul by wasting it away or glorifying Him?

Is sitting on your bed all day whinging about everything in the world more important than your ambition? If you knew you had the capability to change it, are you willing to hop out of bed and take the step of faith,humility and endurance? Most of all, do you have the ability to control yourself, to persevere and see your destiny before its manifestation. Are you prepared, for the countless cuts and bruises and U turns, you might have to take on the road to your ambition?

When you decide to take the step, you will have to prepare yourself for the countless trials and tribulations that will come your way.

The world does not want you to be successful but thrive anyways. Your machine will break down,walk!  Your best friend might be munching on bacon right in front of you, concentrate on your fruit anyways. You might be running low on cash, forget new gadgets, forget the fashion trend (create your own). As long as you have shelter, food and clothes to wear, nothing else matters. You cannot understand the language; take an hour a day to learn it in the comfort of your own room!  The political situation is not in your favour, ADJUST!

Right now, how important is your aspirations from roaming around with no direction all day? So, if you had the capability, which you already have, do you want to hop out of bed or stay in that same stagnant motion that you always have.

Love,

Siru.

“Whenever you feel like giving up, remember why you set this goal in the first place.”

~Unknown~

One Answer Fits All

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So I saw this news article while traversing through the mazes of social media, this little gem of an article found among the likes of diabetic inducing couples who find it necessary to let the world know they’ve gotten together and will commence the process of fucking anytime soon (They’ll let us know whether we like it or not, obviously) as well as people who have an uncanny magical ability to take dozens of photos in mere seconds and upload it on Facebook. Individually. Oh what’s on Facebook today? Your face, your face, your face, your face, oh and YOUR GOD DAMN FACE. Close ups dearies? That’s nice. How about wiping the oil off your face, or covering the bulging white mass on your face that looks ready to pop out of a surprise birthday cake with extra whipped cream. Once is all right, I can hide the “story” on Facebook. A dozen times made me smash my head against my desk.

So going back to the article, it cannot really be construed as a gem on hindsight. It only seemed slightly brighter if only that it was surrounded by shit and Mediacorp leftovers. I then realized that the shine was actually produced from a tear I shed. Yes, a tear; stemmed from the fact that when on the once glorious platform of social media, I am in actuality standing right in front of a perpetual fart that sometimes produce brown, steaming hot liquid. A lot like grandma’s hot chocolate, when she’s 80 and half her rectal walls are collapsing faster than Xiaxue’s dignity.

At any rate, this is the article: http://yourhealth.asiaone.com/content/pm-lee-launches-national-dengue-campaign

Yes, it has indeed reached the critical state of things. We’ve hit the 500 mark ladies and gentlemen. Damn it, we were fine at 499. Who gives a shit about the 499 right? That means as the numbers chalked up, were we in Singapore Dengue Super Fun Time where everyone is non-existent but only upon the hitting of the 500 mark, it’s the Apocalypse? Yes, sounds about right.

This article is also reflective of how the Powers That Be tend to approach every single problem in Singapore. Our masters’ standard answer for everything is, “Everyone in the community must contribute”, “I encourage more Singaporeans to contribute”, “Younger Singaporeans must step up and give back”. It’s like a B Grade television series that’s focused solely on a singular topic that’s been showing for a decade, and the only reason why it’s at the top of the charts is because it’s mandatory to, enforced of course by the government. Thankfully, this particular B Grade television series does not exist at least in this reality and certainly, no proper government would ever to that to the people. Ever.

However, I believe that the emotional appeal to cajole us from the clown prince has long been sucked dry. What they should have done to maximize robotic efficiency is to slap a fine on to the subject matter (Which they have already done) to bend the majority of the populace to – Oh sorry, I meant legally and rightfully appeal to the great citizens of Singapore who will follow the Great One till death (Which they already have). This goes against typical Singaporean efficiency. How disappointing. Why waste time convincing the people that they are of a bigger picture when you know they’re nothing more than peons. Sometimes peons with ugly pixelated uniforms and a locally made toy gun. Sometimes peons in skimpy dresses, enough make up to choke a tree and a banana for good measure to literally appease the overlords, who may at times prefer younger peon meat. And of course, sometimes these peons are so efficient that you could replace them with an ATM machine and no one would know the bloody difference. The only reason why that isn’t being done is the premise of Peon Rights, or what little there are.

All in all, it really is a load of bollocks coming personally from the prince of bollocks himself in bollockapore in an Anonymous Bollocks session simply because the underwhelming peon doctor missed his butt with the injection and entered an entirely different hole instead. The prince of bollocks has literally been and still is, butt hurt.

But forget not the Peons Creed: “Werk werk”.

That is indeed, our single answer to all the problems in the universe – Sorry again, I meant island.

Image

I’m in pain.

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The alarm sounds. It is time to get up. A new day has begun. I wriggle my toes, a little something I learned years ago, something to help wake the body up before I start my day.

The first step is the hardest, but it does not end there. My joints feel like broken glass rubbing against concrete and my head is heavy like a pile of bricks. I pull myself up, very reluctantly and stumble into the bathroom. The throbbing begins and does not stop.
I am exhausted. The treatments are slowly draining every bit of energy out of me. I need sleep. Natural sleep. Chemically induced sleep is not sleep. It is as if I can feel the weight of the world on my shoulders albeit not in a noble sense. It pushes down on me and I feel like it is almost time for me to crumble under the pressure.

Sleep, I miss you. I need you.

justice

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another bombing.
140 injured. some dead. some amputated.
in the blink of an eye.
elsewhere, women are getting raped every minute.
children are blown up every hour.
human beings have always been tearing each other up.
the world as few know it.
your world as i know it.

as long as suffering is not in your face,
you will never know compassion.

sincerely yours,
the immortal

She’s thirsty.

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Restlessness transcends into pent up aggression as she stands up and rummages through her bag for her 8-inch tanto. She walks up to the short and stout one in front of her, perpetually munching on sweet things, grabs her hair and slits her throat. The blood excites her.

The class bursts into chaotic frenzy, but no one moves. They are at a complete standstill. She moves on to the next one, the blonde, in the front row. The one with the annoying incomprehensible accent. Why, of all people, you, a distant child of the commonwealth, find yourself unable to articulate and enunciate your words properly. In one swift, skillful slash, her cheek tears open and she, the annoying blonde, falls to the ground, bleeding from the face.

Moving on, the egocentric bigot who claims to speak french, dropping a word or two every once in a while for flaunting purposes. You’re not good enough and now, taste cold steel, feeble human flesh. Your ego fails you today. No armor, no, not today. A well aimed stab, straight through the chest, puts her to the ground, screaming in agony. A grin of satisfaction finds it’s place on the killer’s face.

A grim scene, but the work being done here is of utmost importance. Stay on task. Next, the islander with an apparent lack of ethics and integrity. One born of little or perhaps no respect for the interests and intentions of others. Her cold, monotonous insults stop today. Some meticulously forged German steel in her spleen would put, and leave her, in pain before she comes back around to conclude your miserable life.

She leaves the 8 incher in the islander and whips out another. 7 inches, balanced, perfectly sharpened and forged with carbon composite. The loudmouth comes next. Nothing left to be said, the 7-incher travels through the air as it is flung and pierces his skull like a pumpkin. He dies instantly.

She smiles, and suddenly, no one else has anything to say. Silence fills the room as the rain comes to a stop and the sun awakens to greet a world that is, just for today, a little darker than usual.