Judging

You.

Don't look at me like that, don't look at me, don't say in that tone of voice: "You're, like, judging me, you know."

Don't say that. Don't you say that. Not from you. Please, no. You little hypocrite.

Who's been judging who, exactly? Who's been deciding who are idiots, and who are not? Who's been deciding who deserves listening to? Who deserves attention?

You. You have been the one judging.

You have been the one judging me. Judging all of us.

Don't roll your eyes. Don't lose your temper. Don't bang your head on the table. You're not the only one pissed.

Don't talk so loudly. You're not always right.

Don't think that just by talking loudly, slamming your hand down on the table, and tuning out others in your 'idiot - not worth listening to' list makes you right.

They act like idiots, but they're not idiots 24/7.

They have brains too. They have good ideas too. It's not a one man crusade. It's not your ideas, your faults, and my responsibility.

一人计短，二人计长。

加上你这一个，真的是三人计多。

Start listening. Don't bitch about it to us when it turns out you're the one whose not been listening. Stop making me repeat everything a second, third, fourth, fucking fifth time. My saliva runs dry and my patience runs thin.

My patience. Your lucky that my tolerance level is so high.

Get this straight - you're not the only one with a loud voice. You're not the only one who knows how to raise your voice.

You're just the only one talking loudly, and thats the only voice you ever listen to, anyway, since its the loudest.

You're lucky I don't try and argue back at you, voice for voice, loud for loud, temper for temper.

You're lucky because I care. I care. I fucking care more then you do.

It's not for my sake, its not for your sake. It's for everyone's sake that I hold myself back, because I know, I realise, I fucking understand, that its a fucking group project and its everyone who has to work, everyone who has to care.

But you don't care, obviously. You just want to bitch and make yourself heard and throw your hands up in the air when we all try and tell you politely, "We don't like your shit idea so stop trying to convince us of it otherwise."

And for fuck's sake, stop fucking judging me. You don't want to be judged, and neither do I.

Who, in the first place, told you that you could judge? Who gave you the right?

Don't use words that you don't understand. You look and sound like a fucking moron, and that vexes me up.

You little bitch.

You hypocrite.

You messed up in the head moron.

You fucking judge.

Sometimes (more recently, actually), I wonder why I care so much. It's like talking to a loose cannon. Nothing goes in, but everything comes out.

I want to jam you up in your damned barrel. I want you to stop firing for a moment and start listening. Start listening, and this time round, for once, actually look at your fucking target before fucking firing.

It's tiring. But you're not the only one tiring.

I'm not fucking invincible. I don't have infinite patience. There's a line before I snap, too.

I like you as a friend. But I don't like, don't want, you, as anything else.

We can befriend each other, but we sure as hell can't work with one another.

And for the fucking record, no one, in this world, should be able to judge anyone else. Not the best friend you giggle to during class. Not the guy in the black gown and white curly wig. Not the person who got a PhD in law.

Nobody should judge anybody, because nobody has the right to do so. I don't care how many diplomas you've got. I don't care how loud your voice is.

I don't want a complete stranger judging me. I don't want my best friend judging me. Neither of them are fit. Neither of them have the authority to judge another being.

But then again, this is our messed up world, run and controlled by us messed up human beings. No wonder Mother Nature cries.

Who wouldn't, with us stupid, judgmental, all-assuming beings ruling the world?

Porcelain People

Some people treat other people like porcelain.

Like, glass. Something fragile. Maybe tofu. The kind that smashes into smithereens if you so much as accidentally shove it against the wall.

I mean, I get that there are many kinds of different people in the world. Some were made to break things. Some were made to be broken. But I don't think I would have so much to say were it not for the fact that these people, who get treated like porcelain - let's call them 'Porcelain People' - don't deserve to be treated like porcelain.

It's not like they're emotionally unstable... on a social, everyday basis. It's not like they weep over every little thing.

In fact, they're people just like you and I, and borderline on being bitches at the same time.

Why would someone treat a bitch like they would handle porcelain? I, for one, don't think they deserve the care they receive. Even if these people were to fall down, it isn't as though they couldn't pull themselves up. There's a saying, "once bitten, twice shy". Is that it? Did something massive happen in the past that caused people to turn bitter towards each other, and now that things are patched up, to save such a catastrophe from happening again, they are treated and handled with care?

But wouldn't these people be stronger now, after the previous disastrous attempt? Wouldn't they be more careful now? Wouldn't they now how to handle their feelings? Why then, do people still treat them like porcelain, giving them guilty, regretful looks behind the back and laughing off everything lightly as though whatever the bitch did wasn't hurtful at all?

Why then, do people cling on to these porcelain people, who are tougher then tough (like raw, stubborn hide) and sharper then sharp? Aren't they themselves afraid of getting cut?

Why not just let the porcelain smash? Wouldn't gluing it together with superglue make it stronger then before, and less likely to break? Why so worried, so cautious?

Its hard to be around people and their porcelain companions. Everything becomes so light-hearted and serious.

Get away from this world

It's been so long since I last updated this blog, but I still have as many things to say.

I'm not even that old, but you know how big the world is? You know how often it gets so big that it just about stresses the hell out of your life?

That kinda sounds like the teenage-identity-crisis, 'the angst-filled years of teenhood' that adults repeatedly mention. Not sure if they're the same thing, but...

More often then not, on these days, I'm getting tired.

Like, dead tired. The world is so crowded nowadays. So stuffy. It's getting hard to breathe.

It'll be nice to get away once in a while, to go to an entirely different place and not to have to lift a finger over anything - but sadly, we're all stuck on one planet and in one world - Earth.

So instead, we have to settle for a lesser alternative - almost there, almost to this other, less suffocating world, but not quite there.

Like when you play the piano.

It was surprising to me at first, but recently, I've developed more than an interest in playing the piano. It's not like design - that one is most resolutely stuck at interest - it's something else entirely. It's passion. I actually feel passionate about playing the piano.

Not the ones that the teacher makes me play. I get my own off the internet.

And I don't have a piano. I have a keyboard. Lesser alternative.

But the keyboard is just behind me, in the small room I have as a working area, so it's desk and computer, electric fan on the left and keyboard behind.

All I have to do is switch the plugs.

But back to topic - the good thing about playing the piano, or the good things about playing the piano: the songs I pick, are, of course, fantastic. One can never go wrong with one's taste. They're all slightly depressing and very hopeful - with the almost there but not quite feel - and I love it. There are so many great composers out there. Yiruma, to name one. Really beautiful songs.

Plus people - the people in this house who have no other choice but to hear the piano - enjoy it. There's something about playing something that other people enjoy. Sort of like a crowd-pleaser. I'll play the piano as long as there's someone to hear it. An audience - why not?

And the best thing about playing the piano? This, by far, is my favorite - the volume. The sound of the keyboard can be adjusted, and I always set it above max. It's just as well, since a real piano is louder then maximum. Not just for the sound quality of an actual piano, but because its so loud, that it muffles all the other sounds. You can't hear the TV or the fan over the sound of the piano. You can't hear any worries, any deadlines, anything even mildly irritating over the sound of the piano. And that has to be the best quality of playing the piano - because it offers a respite, a small, small world away from the one we're all stuck in.

Which is such a pleasing thing, it is such a pleasure, to be away from our world, that I don't ever want to stop playing the piano, don't ever want to stop blasting it at such a loud volume; it is so emotionally pleasing, so comforting, that I don't know what I'll ever do if I don't have a piano nearby to vent all my emotions out on.

But even way above that - just to plain, get away from this world.