The Young Suspect

As the murder case of Annie unraveled, all seemed to pin down one suspect, the 24-year-old Ray. He had stayed silent - there was not a footage of him speaking, which made everyone guess his nature, character, and temperament. But from the various pictures, he seemed to be just an ordinary young man: tall, rather handsome, perhaps a little introverted at times, but nevertheless outgoing when surrounded by friends and family. His life up to this point was pleasant and stable to the outsiders. With a job that paid, a dog to pet, and a girlfriend whom he was to marry, he was on his way to start a family. Within a week, all that had become merely a vapor. Dreams, ambitions, shattered, gone. At such a young age, he could soon be put behind the bars for a lifetime, and to the worst, even be executed abiding CT's death penalty for murders.

What had he done? What happened that day in the lab? What was his relationship with Annie? How did he just lose his mind and threw his life away? How could he commit to such crime? Was it an accident? Why didn't he come forward and confess?

Before he is put on trial and before he is convicted as a murderer, these unanswered questions merge into a thin, invisible wall, giving him a slight protection from the large community who mourns over the tragic death of Annie. If Ray was to seek sympathy, he would be terribly disappointed. If he did what he is accused of doing, it was him who threw his own life away, unlike Annie whose life was ended unwillingly by another. Unless it wasn't him, then he better prove it.

What has our world become? When did civilized, intelligent human beings decide that it is easy and okay to end another's life? Why has violence magnified and multiplied?

The media was doing what it does best: take any sip of information, exaggerate it and spread. Ray's terrifying halloween picture of him dressed and face painted like a devil was featured frequently. Although some of the testimonies from his friends backed him up with neutral and even positive remarks, the media seemed to focus on the small negative comments from people who didn't know him well such as the neighbors. As a result of such bias, the community was insanely outraged toward Ray. They responded to this cruelty with cruelty. "Kill him like how he killed Annie" said one reader on an online coverage. It was followed by another, yet another, and countless vulgar comments: "Put him on the hot chair", "he deserves to be put on death penalty", etc. These comments disturbingly received popular votes. While you wonder why people lose their moral sense and kill each other, it's clear that anyone who was capable of saying such things are capable of killing under circumstances.

The disease has permeated and it is officially incurable.

A Starbucks Incident

"Tall coffee Frappuccino please."

"Did you know that you could get a medium size with Only 50 cents more? Would you like that?"

"Uh. Sure!"

I never ordered anything larger than a Tall, or else I would have trouble finishing the drink. The cashier lured me into getting my first medium-sized Frap. "Oooonly 50 cents" sounded like a deal or a promotion of the day. Only when I quickly glimpsed the price board as I handed her the money did I realize that there was no special deal! 50 cents extra for one size larger is the normal charge for every type of drinks on the menu!

It has nothing to do with money but everything to do with a subtle manipulation! How could she trick me like that? How could I be so naive to fall for it?

She grinned, didn't even try to restrain her satisfaction from this small victory: "Have a nice day!"

You sneaky little nymph. No tip for you!

The Wind-Up Bird

It was calling for me in my sleep. The monotonous and persistent chirping patiently dragged me out of my lucid dreams. My ears perked up, trying to determine the direction from which the sound originated. As my other senses began waking up one after another, my eyes unwillingly opened last. Daylight had already broken into the room through my pink curtains. It was 6:17 in the morning.

At first, I thought it must be my neighbor whistling a ridiculous, high-pitched tune. A boring tune that was made of a repeated pitch and an occasionally lower pitch at precisely a minor third apart. Not much longer did it take me to realize that this sound was a rare bird-call rather than a hideous human-produced noise.

I gasped: it was the wind-up bird! I was convinced. A wind-up bird, that's right, the exact one that Haruki Murakami spoke of in his novel The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.

What is a wind-up bird anyway? A mechanical toy bird that needs to be winded-up ever-so-often in order to mimic a real bird for the amusement of children?

Murakami gave life to this bird. "To wind-up the spring," he said. The bird and its strange chirp was heard throughout the novel, scattered but significant, each time as a premonition of a catastrophic event.

The bird was a myth. The bird was a legend.

And it was there, just outside my window, chirping away like no one's business. It reigned over other birds, making their chirps only a rhythmical accompaniment.

I hope nothing catastrophic is going to happen. If so, I will have to shoot the wind-up bird down in resentment to its cursed prophecy.

Defending S.A.T.C.

HBO's TV show Sex and the City was a hit alright, only to the female citizens of the United States. Many men expressed their dissatisfaction towards the show. Most of the complaints targeted on the egotistic female perspective reflected by the main characters' luxurious life-style and their attitude of "men are disposable."

The show was indeed controversial. First time on television, the topic of sex was focused as an essential element throughout the series. Blunt, shameless, at times brutal truth of human sexual behaviors blended with a sense of humor in the cleverly written dialogue, freed female viewers from awkwardness in talking about sex. The show was not just controversial. It was brave. It was daring. And it did make a statement.

But it wasn't just about sex. There was rarely any explicit nudity, which might have been disappointing to some male viewers. The show was about relationships and human interactions, from the female perspectives: how women think, feel, react, behave; how irrationally and emotionally they can be, in spite of right or wrong; their habits and their flaws. The facts were vulnerably true, all of them. The small number of men who secretly enjoyed the show might have the potential of making themselves better boyfriends because of their open-minded attitude in finding out what women are truly like. Though, men wouldn't understand SATC and are not expected to understand. HBO should have rated the show as NFM, i.e. Not For Men. But for them to accuse the characters as egotistic were simply an unintelligent mockery out of their own egotistic imbalance.

Please read under the lines, male friends! Everything is slightly more complicated than what it seems. When you thought Carrie or Miranda or Charlotte (excluding Samantha here) were treating men like disposable toothbrushes, they were only trying to take a failed relationship as lightly as possible, in order to protect themselves from being hurt. They were not heartless. Women tend to get attached quicker and deeper. They would give up everything for their loved ones in their search of the "perfect one." And it's not easy. After many heartbreaks, they eventually learn how to be brave. If what it takes to be brave is to say such thing as "men are disposable," please don't take it personally, for they are just trying to comfort themselves from another catastrophic break-up.

So what else were men offended by? Women's independence? Women's successful careers? Women's powers? Don't be offended, because those are true facts in this 21st-century. Men's odd behaviors? Well, yes it was brutal to see them on TV, but let's call it fair, the show equally revealed women's freakish behaviors. "None of the girls are even beautiful." Perhaps, but that's how real life is. You don't end up with cosmetic models, but real women, who might not be perfect, but beautiful in each of their own way. Maybe SATC should have a sequel, from the male perspective, if they'd like to get even.

Now the SATC movie is under the making (which I think would be a failure,) we should expect a full theater of female fans and a few unwillingly presented boyfriends.

Back to Uncivilization

Sometimes I wish we are not civilized and educated so we can't over-analyze our feelings and emotions. Sometimes I wish we had the IQ of below normal, so we wouldn’t pity ourselves even when others do.

It's dangerous to dig in deeper and deeper - how can one possibly save him/herself when the conscience of struggle is lost for good? Any surfacing changes are only temporary relieves and cures. But when those are gone, you fall back into the routine and being sucked into that quicksand even faster than ever.

Why do we torture ourselves this way? It's abusive and it has got to stop. IT HAS TO STOP IT HAS TO STOP IT HAS TO STOP!!! And we all know that the only person who can save us is the person you see in the mirror.

Blank out, space out, think nothing, be un-intelligent for a change - you might actually find it refreshing. Most importantly, love yourself so others can love you.

The Perfect Break-Up

It just occurs to me that Meg Ryan makes break-up seem like a breeze. Have you noticed in Sleepless In Seattle, her break-up with Walter (the allergic-to-everything-guy) is exactly the same as her break-up with Frank (the typewriter-obsessive-guy) in You've Got Mail? In both movies, she sits down in a fancy restaurant with her boyfriend. At certain point, someone awkwardly brings up the fact that he or she doesn't love the other person. The other person coincidently feels the same and then happily accepts the break-up. They continue their conversation as if they are old friends with no hard feelings or-so-ever. The "magic" of romantic comedy makes Meg Ryan one lucky woman: she either flees away to meet Sam, or she claims that she has the "dream of someone else" and meets her 'dream" soon after.

I wonder what the purpose of romantic comedy is. Is it a hopeful reminder of the existence of romance or is it a sarcastic laughter towards real-life relationships?

After each break-up, we often tell ourselves and each other that "there's no easy break-ups", "no better ways to do it", or "no good time to do it". The pain level depends on how much the other person means to you, and it varies from 1 day up to 5 years. Regardless how long it takes one person to be okay with the break-up, there is still a process that everyone goes through.

Apparently, Meg Ryan doesn't need to go through anything!!! At the end of her movies, when "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" comes up in the background, I find myself unable to control the "water-works". I wipe off the tears on my face, resentfully: "This is bullshit..."

Pulper versus Non-Pulper

I was approached by a friend one day: "Pulp or no pulp?" It was referring to orange juice, of course. "Pulp. Lots of pulp." I answered confidently.

"Pulp, lots of pulp" sounds like "Bond, James Bond". The way it is phrased puts an extra emphasis on the statement that makes it sounds more determined and convincing. There is absolutely no alternative for me. "Pulp, some pulp" or "no pulp, no pulp" simply do not work nearly as effective.

Just like many other things, we are divided into Pulpers and Non-pulpers based on our personal choices. Personally, I like the chewy-ness of pulps. It re-assures me that the drink is made out of real oranges. The pulp is such an important feature that distinguishes orange juice from other (for example, Fanta) orange-flavored drinks. Therefore, "no pulp" to me is not acceptable. Although, the worst has to be "some pulp." What is the point of having a few of them swimming around in your mouth?? They say there is no such thing as black and white. But in the case of orange juice, you are either Pulper or Non-pulper, there is no in between.

And I am proud of being a Pulper!