Sense making

Sense making.
I like the word. Although I am not so sure if there is any use in embarking on such an endeavour, because the most important things in life don't really make sense and frequently won't matter either way.

Be it broken hearts, war or  irresistible attraction to high calories.  Life sucks one day and redeems itself on another.

Perhaps our human need to explain the universe is the one thing that propels us in the opposite direction. The more we learn, the less we know and we can either drive ourselves mad in trying to figure out if is it us, or if it's karma or if our marionette strings are being yanked randomly by some higher power.

I suppose what really matters is what are we going to do about it.

Postscript :

Having a change of mind after lunch  ( Tempe and  ikan kembong  I'd have you know) would warrant a rewrite of the above but I admit that I am lazy.
The left brain was a little disturbed that its counterpart suggests all abandon of dissection and critical thinking to obediently  accept the pronouncements of the fates, and just wing it as it comes along.

Surely our study of history is testament that we look upon the past to find out why we did what we did.  Sometime we even learn from it.
E.g. Don't arm dictators.
Don't buy hillside properties.
Don't drink beer and durian in same sitting.

It just occurred to me (with rare optimism) that we are on this never-ending quest of connecting the dots  all for the sake of avoiding more conflict, generating more happiness and to  finally finally arrive at the point when after the 1001th attempt, the  lightbulb will not blow out and instead shine true.

It's the mother of invention, catalyst for creation and even basis of absolution.

So do I make sense?
So in the spirit of randomness here is a picture of a  dog

Mainstream misogyny

Now, I am not one who would call herself a feminist by any traditional sense (long story, buy me tea and we will talk). Yet I am very disturbed by all the trash talk that is directed towards women in the public sphere. I can't even read the comments in stupid sites like 9gags even without leaving feeling deeply offended. Sure infantile humour is the nature of the beast of sites like these but I refuse to think that it makes it justifiable.

Having a sense of humour and a sense of decency ought not be mutually exclusive. And what is troubling is how it is flourishing across numerous online forums and communities, and unsurprisingly based in first world countries where gender equality and mutual respect have claimed their highest victory. Greta Christina has an interesting discussion on misogyny and the firestorm that was over the threats of rape of the 15 year old girl who posted on Reddit. You can read it here

Of course of course I am neglecting the numerous others which have little tolerance for such crude behavior and as the world will always have fascists, child molesters and murderers, there will still be jerks who don't know better. I am ashamed to say that I personally know a few too.

As it is terms such as bitches, whores and hoes have become increasingly mainstream. The sexualising of women remains and as new derisions creep into our daily lives through the power of language, it gives those references credence and implicit acceptance by the collective.

I feel so strongly about this that I am herewith even going to plagiaries Oprah. She derided young women from calling each other bitches, hoes and what-nots because by calling ourselves that, we are telling men what to call us. I refuse to believe that anyone will not be insulted if she was thrown a humiliating and degrading remark, and by not standing up for another woman it's sheer betrayal.

And guys, although you may think it scores points with your other mates and would make you sound street/ghetto/ whatever cesspool you think would matter, it speaks volumes of your own upbringing and strength of character.

The Power of Introverts

I am not sure if it's providence or coincidence. Perhaps it's just a matter of seeing what I want in the random wilderness.

It was on Twitter I think that I first stumbled upon the fine line that read,"better write for yourself and have no audience than write for an audience and not be yourself." which of course resonated with me much since I have no audience to speak of anyway. So that kind of works out.

And today I came across Susan Cain making an excellent arguement for introversion on one of the latest TED Talks. I will post it up soon. The fact that I could related to everything she says provides affirmation that I am an introvert surreptitiously passing off as an extrovert, albeit with varying success.

Yet throughout my life I have found myself surrounded not by just any extrovert but of the most outstanding pedigree. whether it is my feeding off their gregariousness or just living vicariously or perhaps even a misplaced sense of personality envy, I find extroverts make great companions to introverts. Them whose boisterous presence and experiences give off just enough excitement but not too much that we can't later return to our comfort zones of solitude.

Yet is it true that society treasures the extrovert? Well they get heard for one. We engage the world through mediums that accommodate and propagate millions of voices. From the Internet to cable tv, the noise is deafening. Our cities are expanding, classrooms increasing, competition rising, impatience growing. On the surface speaking softly and quiet contemplation don't seem to sit well with this brave new world.

I would end this post with my favorite quote from Ms Cain's presentation - I wish you the best of all possible journeys and to have courage to speak softly

This Chinese New Year

Its the eve of the eve.

Time fled from me and I didn't even bid goodbye to 2011 properly. And in a couple of days, the Lunar New Year would be upon us. When the season's tackiness is personified in every shade of red, orange and gold.

When the soft sliding of well worn  mah jong tiles accompany the blaring of the latest New Year remix (which sounds the same every year) and visitations by flirtatious lions with fluttering eyes and wagging tails.    

Despite all my disdain for a culture which has lived up to its stereotype, I am still its heir and as I grow older, embracing my birth right becomes more poignant.

I crave for kopi o today. Black and sweet as sin. And I enjoy it best every year, pour our with a ladle through a tapis into a beer stein to be enjoyed sitting on the floor, in the eye of a whirling chaos comprising of screaming children, gambling adults and an ambling pet dog.    

And like that kopi o, the chaos becomes tradition, to be taken for granted and willed to last forever until too soon it becomes a memory, which in time, would be come distant and romanticised.

This would be my first year without the familiar din. Its been about 10 months since the passing of my grandmother, the family matriarch and the centre than held everyone together. And as things fall apart, without the centre to hold, swirling satellites drift to find new orbits, keeping some of the old and creating new traditions of their own.

It is too soon for me to say whether I miss the rambunctiousness.  But I do miss her. And I fully appreciate the significance of tradition as a way of reaching across time and space to honour, remember and perhaps find a little comfort. 
 

Don't Mess with Foo Fighters

Ok, to prove a point:
This is Dave Grohl:

This is Ramli Sarip:

And no Dave DOES NOT look like Ramli Sarip!
I never thot during Nirvana days that I would ever call Dave even borderline hot. Oh, but he is all grown up.  Bless!

We need to talk more. 

And now, getting inked myself

Well I have been mulling over the below for more than a year now. 

I keep falling in love with this lotus tattoo. Pretty old skool yet, my only concern is that for it to blossom, it needs to be a certain size. And I don't want a big one. 

Yet I am getting alot of flak for wanting one. WTF must it be called a tramp stamp just because its on a girl.  

Despite it being such common theme, be it with or without religious connotations,  I have always liked its oft quoted symbolism. Still  it remains quietly beautiful. 

Chill for a while

Oldie but oh so goodie.

I ink therefore I am

In the era of erganomic keyboards, I suppose that using a fountain pen is on the quaint side. And let me qualify that when I say using a fountain pen, its for actual daily writing as oppose to pocket displays or for signing ceremonies. 

Besides Chris,  I am the only other person I know who still has use for ink bottles and blotting paper. It is a joy you know - inking paper, each stroke imbued with distinctness as pressure and angles form words and pictures. 

Penmenship is not for posers. Nor it it bourgeoisie.  Granted that it is nostalgic and romantic. A throw back to a time when pride was to be had in having a good hand and better care was accorded to word crafting, and backspace referred to a store room than a keyboard function.  And besides, love letters are best written with a wet pen than a ballpoint any day.

My everyday cherry red Lamy Safari fountain pen has gotten quite a few second glances. Relatively inexpensive at below RM100, it is minimalist and writes like a dream.  I think that this makes a very good introduction for fountain pen newbies.  Better than getting the much cheaper Pilot beginner's pen which bleeds all over the place, turning frustrated students off what could be a truly wonderful lifelong love affair.     

Anyway back to the Lamy Safari, it has a stainless steel nib without any fancywork.  It is light having an angular plastic body that helps with the grip and is not at all unpleasant. I use the fine nib and am very satisfied with the ink flow.   

Compared to my Lamy 2000, the Safari gives much more satisfaction. Despite the 2000 being of a different class all together being platinum coated and hand polished with a 14c gold nib, my Extra Fine is heart-breakingly scratchy. I love the  Bauhaus industrial design design, yet I expected much better.  I got mine at the Pen Gallery at the Weld, and even after sending it back after they gave me a less than satisfying nib the first time, I can't say that I am totally satisfied. 

Will be going to Singapore to get the opinion of a nibmiester. Yes, that is the name and yes again, that is an actual profession.

In Malaysia, The Pen Gallery in the heart of Kuala Lumpur does stock a good range from Namiki to Montegrappa. Irritating thing is that the store does not open during weekends. 

However for the Lamy, being fairly common, they can be bought at selected departmental stores which do offer discounts during sales. I got my Safari at Parkson with a 30% off and its a perfect pen. Only downside is that they may have a smaller range of nibs. 

       

Yes, the geek is strong in this one.