Dawn of Justice...

Clash of the Titans?

It's almost here! One of the most anticipated movies in history. The showdown of the century. The battle of the braves! It's... Batman vs Superman! Or is it Superman vs Batman (following normal sporting conventions where the home side is mentioned first, this title would be more accurate)? Yes, I'm making the guess that the battle takes place in the ruins of Metropolis, as opposed to Crime Alley in Gotham as in Return of the Dark Knight.

As usual, this is a post for those people who tend to want to ask questions during an epic movie, preventing their neighbours from following plot points as they unfold. Therefore, you should (get them to) read this, so they'll pay attention.

When someone 'respectable' asks you a stupid question...

When 'respectable' person gets an answer that highlights his own stupidity.

It's been almost 2 years since the events of 'Man of Steel'. The world's population is divided. Some are galvanized by the thought of having a saviour. Others are afraid of him. What if he decides to take to politics? What if he interferes with government? How does he decide whom to save and whom to abandon? What does he do in his spare time? Can his blood cure cancer? How would they know if they can't even draw blood from him? Who's to stop such a powerful being from doing whatever he wants? There are entire committees and military branches geared towards studying this individual, but so far, their efforts have yielded no ways to keep the Man of Steel in check. The next logical step for them is to meet him directly and talk to him. He has been avoiding the press. He prefers to go about his heroic business as he sees fit. But world leaders are restless. They need to know whose side he's on.


Superman
He's aware that the world is uncertain of him. And why wouldn't they? They see him as this all-powerful being who can do incredible things. As much as he wants to solve all the worlds problems, he needs to have the people on his side. They need to trust him. That's why he never wears a mask. If the world sees his face, they can probably rest easier. Politics and government are murky waters that he'd rather not trudge in at them moment. He decides to stick to the regular saving lives protocol. Rescues mainly. However, he's still labeled a vigilante. And there's a vigilante that's painting a bad picture for others out there. Since Superman is all about good PR at this moment, dealing with a rogue like Batman is a good step forward. he thinks that terror is the wrong way to go in inspiring public confidence. Someone should step up and give the Batman a piece of their mind. And who better to do it than someone who's invincible, right?

"If I wanted it, you'd be dead already!" #alphamale

Batman
The terror of the Gotham criminal underworld. He's a nightmare for the wrongdoers. He's feared more than he's loved. He doesn't mind it. He was the king of the jungle until an alien showed up, whose might far exceeded his own. Now he has to contemplate, like the authorities, whose side he's on. He doesn't know that the authorities are thinking the same thing about him, and constantly trying to devise the means to keep him in check. However, unlike them, there's no red tape with him. He also has the brilliance and the resources to set in motion his own contingency plans. But, like any good contingency, it starts with research. He (most likely) installs appropriate tracking software in his personal satellites to follow the Man of Steel around and try to figure him out. The first thing he learns is that, Superman neither kills nor maims. That is something he intends to use in his favour. He doesn't like surprises, so he studies his opponent as much as he can. But how can he hope to go toe to toe with the Man of Steel? Batman's world is filling up with powerful beings that cannot be controlled. What is their agenda? What if they intend to destroy his home? How will he be able to stop them?

Fake it until you make it?

Wonder Woman
This powerhouse demigoddess, the patron saint of women emancipation, has to keep the egotistical Batman and the overconfident but naive Superman in check. She represents the best of both. She has the dark, gritty character and the unbelievable strength to make the boys scratch their cleft chins. At least they both notice at once that she's not your average woman. She doesn't mind standing by their side, but she's neither to be belittled nor underestimated. Make no mistake, she can hold her own (I'll personally be disappointed if she whimpers for help). They don't call her the Warrior Princess of Themyscira just to make her happy.

The fists of justice are unisex.

There you have it, folks. Now you can concentrate on events as they unfold without wearing that confused look. Only tap your neighbours if they are excited by the same thing, not to ask them, "How come she punched that guy and he flew thoooooose ends?"

Of Lady Strange and Irish Coffee...

Dear stranger,

I don't mean to sound strange, but I must compliment you on how delightful you are to look at. The high stool that you're sitting on is doing wonders. Even the semi-bright backdrop of the gardens works in your favour, because you are an exquisite silhouette. You hold your head straight, supported by an elegant slim neck, flowing downwards to the neat arc of your back, rounding off at the seat in your subtle but well shaped derriere. Whoever invented those 'pencil skirts' did us a huge favour. Even while sitting, the skirt terminates right above your knees, caressing that tender flesh like butter on bread. You've rested your heel on the foot-rest of the stool, with the stilletto heel dangling in the air. You rock your foot back and forth, highlighting toned calf muscles. You must be taking good care of yourself, girl. Good for you indeed.  You sit there, with your dainty little fingers gently stroking the screen of your phone, prompting a few laughs from you time and again. It's not a boisterous laugh. It's more like a chuckle, with your wonderful white teeth flashing and your mouth just barely open. They must have trained you on how to be polite and carry yourself with class.

I know we've never met, but you've been alive in my mind for the whole time you've been sipping on your Sprite. I saw the frustration on your face when the waiter initially brought you a Krest. I would have been disappointed too. It's not like you had asked him to bring a 'soda in a green bottle'. But, people make mistakes and you realized that mid-rant. It's one of the things I've liked about you. Your big, kind eyes are not just for occasionally stopping my heart. Your full and vivacious eyelashes are not just to send waves of desire in my direction. I've been enjoying watching how you delicately flick your hair to the side while you prepare to take your numerous selfies. Oh wait, I didn't accidentally appear in the background of one of them, did I?

It's almost unfair for someone to look as remarkable as you do. But hey, if the Irish coffee has already kicked in, you might be a figment of my imagination. Lo, just as I'm about to pinch myself, you ease off the stool, whisper something to the waiter next to you, and start walking towards me.

When you spin and walk, it's like time around me has slowed down tremendously. You're surprisingly light on your feet and comfortable in heels. As you sashay towards me, I feel like my heart has stopped and I'm staring at an angel. You cast a glance at me, over your shoulder as you walk by, and I can see the mesmerizing splendour in your eyes.

You glide past me like the total stranger that I am, but before my shoulders can fall with resignation, the calming scent of jasmine wafting in the slipstream of your path lifts me right up. I almost absentmindedly rise out of my seat to glide along with you. I'm stopped in my tracks by the sudden clatter of crockery as I accidentally bumped the table on my way up. Thankfully, by that time you've disappeared around the corner and I have little embarrassment to concern myself with.

I come to my senses eventually, and realize that your table is empty. The waiter even took away the Sprite bottle and is now preparing the table for another customer. I cannot afford to have my memory tainted.

I'm glad to have spent the afternoon basking in your delightful company. Now that my coffee's done, I can leave, hoping to see you again one day. Maybe then I'll actually talk to you instead of playing out scenarios in my mind. If not, at least I'll have this blog post to remember you by.

Slosh(ed)...

"Where are you now that I need you?"

He becomes aware of Justin Bieber crooning from the speakers. He mutters under his breath at his disappointment for leaving the laptop on overnight for the umpteenth time. 'It's not as bad as sleeping with earphones on,' he consoles himself. Something about bacteria building up ridiculously fast in your ear the longer you leave earphones on. He fears bacteria.

He opens his eyes suddenly, but has to close them again as they are bombarded by the sunrise. He shields his eyes and gradually his eyesight clears. Clears to the sight of highway in the distance beginning to fill up with commuters. He catches the gentle touch of the morning breeze and sighs pleasantly. Then the smile turns into a frown upon realizing that the window must have been open all night long. He checks his arms and runs his finger across his face, looking for telltale signs of swelling. There are none. The mosquitoes must be having an off-season. On any other day, they would have punished him for such an error. The recent heatwave has made sleeping under a mosquito net untenable. So it is with much relief that he throws his head back on the pillow.

He rolls over to the left and spies a glass with a finger of colourless liquid. That explains his black out. His favourite poison, gin and tonic. He reaches over to the glass and takes in a generous whiff of the gin, catching along with it the sweet remnants of an apple-scented shisha stem on the table beside the gin. 'It must have been an eventful night,' he thinks to himself. His mind is still fuzzy and in no mood to put together the pieces.

He's shaken from his bliss by the harsh summoning of the alarm. 07:00 it reads, playing his favourite ringtone. He set his alarm tone the same as his ringtone because he knows a phone call is hard to ignore, unless you're unconscious for real. There's a certain sense of urgency connected to a ringing phone. The brain knows it, and will always react to it as long as it's capable. Even if the body is not willing. He wonders how exactly he managed to wake up before the alarm, but it doesn't matter. He has only an hour to get to work.

He jumps out of bed, but cringes and crumples over as a sharp pain races through his calf. He considers sitting down for a moment to gather himself up, but decides against it. "No one ever said they can't get to work because of an aching calf. Haven't a clue why it's hurting anyway," he remarks.
He presses the power button on his laptop and limps to the bathroom as the music fades in the background.

Several minutes later, he's heading towards the door, looking fresh. But he knows his mind is not up yet. "Why do they call it substance abuse when I'm the one who comes out the worse for it? It should be called human abuse." He stops by the fridge, but is greeted only by a half-empty bottle of tonic and an egg. It's strange that there's only one egg. He ponders the circumstances under which there could only be one egg left, since he tends to prepare them in even numbers. But that's not what's on his mind. He groans at having no water in the fridge, and resolves to boil some when he returns. He remembers something and darts into the bathroom. He glances in the mirror and sees what he's been suspecting all along. A tired face wearing a concerned forehead, a sarcastic eyebrow and a pair of flaming red eyes stare back at him. he considers going to work with sunglasses, but that will only cause people to stare at him the more. The whole 'wearing sunglasses indoors' is for celebs only. Musician celebs. He can't sing to save his life. While he examines each eye he mutters, "Perhaps if I squint, no one will notice."

The harsh wind from the boda ride to work sets his mind straight. He wonders if people know to be vigilant while they ride these traffic-ignorant steeds. He has a habit of telling the boda what to do, in case he has a slight case of indecision. He likes to be taken at a comfortable speed and not be put in unnecessary risky situations. He almost has his shin grazed by a Harrier. As the boda passes by the car, he casts a dirty glance at the driver. She's a well dressed, middle aged woman, fair as the sunset. She's wearing sunglasses. Not surprisingly, she's talking on the phone. She turns to face him in that fleeting moment. It feels like five minutes as their stares meet. He gives her the best stink eye he can muster. She responds with an incredulous eyebrow. He raises his hand with a 'what gives?' motion. She puts her hands together, bowing her head slightly, with a hint of a sheepish smile. He turns away, while giving her a thumbs up. It's too early in the morning to be giving a hapless commuter the middle finger.

He gets to work with 15 minutes to spare. There's that Monday morning status meeting that he usually looks forward to. And if last week was anything to go by, he has nothing to worry about this time. The meeting is lengthy, but it finally comes to an end. Which is a good thing because he's beginning to feel dizzy. He almost collapses from his chair during the meeting. He gets a smirk from the boss and a concerned look from his boss' assistant. He's more concerned about the smirk. It means the boss is going to be keeping an eye on him all day long. He needs to freshen up and keep his act clean. A generous drink of water should help with that. His colleagues thought he was still sleepy but he knows he's dehydrated. The truth is stranger than fiction, so he sheepishly agrees to their suppositions. After the meeting, he makes a beeline for the water dispenser. his eyes widen with disbelief as he notices something wrong with the dispenser. he flipped the valve, but nothing's coming out. Then he looks at it closely. It's a lot shorter than he remembers. So there's something missing. It hits him like a lorry a couple of seconds later. There's no water container on top. He claws his throat as dryness and dizziness begin to overwhelm him. His brain feels like there's heavy duty construction going on; thumping and pounding and drilling. The noise is almost unbearable and his body is beginning to shut down. As he staggers away from the water dispenser towards his cubicle, his mind drifts towards the betrayal he has just been dealt early on a Monday morning.

"Where are you now that I need you?"

#UGBlogWeek Presents: The Cedric Conundrum (1/7)

This week, I (Symon) have invited a guest to collaborate with, so listen. I'll introduce him. He's called Cedric, a guy who, for the most part, fancies himself as an artist and enjoyer of life. He resides in my head, so I have the misfortune of dealing with his chirpiness all the time. There's barely a quiet moment in my life, save for when he has 'something personal' to deal with. Those times are, unfortunately, few and far between. For the next 7 days, he'll be narrating events through his point of view.

Take it away, Cedric!

Ah, finally... My chance to stretch my writing muscles. This chance could not have come at a better time. Because I've been dying to tell someone. Symon's friend (I'm yet to meet him) became a baby daddy! It was so cute to see him carry the little guy, eyes glistening with pride and joy. I could barely contain myself. I could have said a lot more to the happy couple, had Symon not been either too tipsy or too exhausted.

We were at a party earlier and he was drinking that whiskey like he thought it would drown his inner demon. I was familiar with this routine of his, and he had been warned about it a few times before. You see, a party is not so party-ish when you have guys like him who sit quietly in a corner and be on their phone, generally existing while life happens around them. He had been warned that if he kept that up, he'd be invited to less parties. He was ready to resign to this fate but I could not allow that. So, he's since outsourced the party scene interactions to me, and I've been enjoying them immensely. Meeting people is such fun, I don't know why Symon has been avoiding it. I think in the past three weeks, we've met more new people than we did the whole of last year. He grimaces each time he sees me interact freely. I think inwardly he's rather jealous of me. Makes me want to piss him off even more. 
Having indulged generously in camaraderie, I excused myself to take a breath of the cool breeze away from the crowd. It was a still night, with moonlight glowing its halo in the revering dark sky. It was a good night for a walk and some life changing event. I thought of that as I returned to continue from whence I'd left off. On the way, I received a message that my friend's wife was in labour.

Now, Symon tends to avoid getting overly involved in people's lives. For some reason, he thinks people are better off without him hanging around. But, I managed to talk him into getting invested in his friend's impending fatherhood. I made him promise to be there when his baby was being born. It seems he thought I had forgotten about that promise as I found him refilling his whiskey glass. I had to remind him that we had a life-altering moment to attend later. He shrugged, checked his phone, and reluctantly threw down the 12-year old whiskey. I could see the disgust on his face for making him do that. Apparently, whiskey must be respected. How I wish he gave as much respect to the people in his life that deserve it. Anyway, I shall teach him. I shall teach him how to feel things again.

I had digressed. So, we were at the hospital waiting in the corridors as we heard the blood-curdling screams associated with childbirth. Naturally, Symon tried his best to distract his friend with off-handed remarks about the straightforwardness of the whole affair, as he understood it. It wasn't helping. His friend remained nervous. While I was biting my fingers anxiously, gu Symon remained stoic. Like seriously, how can someone hear those screams and remain unbothered? Maybe he's seen some traumatic stuff and this didn't even compare. I don't know. He doesn't talk about such things. I was relieved to hear the screams of a woman replaced by the wails of a newborn. I was ecstatic! I ran about the hallway, dragging his friend along with me for a giddy prance. His friend couldn't wipe his astonished expression off his face. Sure, he was happy, but maybe jumping about wasn't what he had in mind. Soon, the wife and baby were wheeled out of the labour ward. I screamed a spirited 'congratulations' to the new parents. They stared at me with incredulity. Of course they did. They didn't recognize me. I whispered to Symon to introduce me and he muttered, "Not now." Heh, guess I'll have to wait another day. I did manage to get him to tell his friend that he had just received the best Valentine's gift ever! The baby was looking so cute, and his wife was radiant. She looked like she'd just eased the baby out. She was all smiles and hi-fiving whoever came to congratulate her. His friend then turned his attentions to Symon, asking why he was still single and childless. He encouraged him to catch up and not miss out on such joys. I told Symon the same. He's letting the good stuff pass him by and he doesn't seem to care even one bit. You should see the way he looks at beautiful women. Oba to him, they appear like bowls of matooke? I'm not sure.

(Symon doesn't like matooke. He never even glances twice at it in a buffet line-up.)

So, his friend asked him when he plans to settle down, he callously responds, "It will happen when it happens." I guess his friends are used to it by now. But it's a problem for us, because me I like girls. I think they make for interesting experiences, even if they bring drama. Oh yes, Symon doesn't like the drama that girls bring in life. He has mentioned that a few times. I tell him that's just cowardice. He should embrace it. If it happens, we can always deal with it. Believe it or not, a close friend of his actually recommended that he gets some drama into his life, for the sake of entertainment, because his life is so mundane! It suffocates me. I like a romantic walk under the stars every once in a while. I would like to hand her flowers and recite poetry to her. I'd like to feed her chocolate and massage her feet after a long day. I'd like to go on a boat cruise with her and tell that joke about love and the lake. But no... I can't do that while the tyrant retains the throne. He claims that I've contributed little to the peace we're now enjoying. Mbu where do I get the nerve? Mbu do I know what he went through to get the peaceful existence that we now 'share'? He fought for his peace and he intends to keep it, even if he has to fight again to retain it. When will he realize that we both want the same thing?

Cedric Takes A Hostage...

So, yesterday Cedric and I found ourselves in quite a pickle. You see, when I returned home, there was no electricity. The house was dark as a haunted manor. Sensing the mood, Cedric suggested we don’t waste the moment, and instead should make the most of it. He suggested we play out a hostage negotiation. I hate being the victim of stories, but alas, the straws were drawn and I chose the short one. I think the game was rigged, but who’s to know for sure? Anyway, there was two of us and we needed one more role; that of the hostage negotiator. Why? I was the hostage and Cedric fancied himself a capable villain. So, we needed someone to rescue me from his evil clutches. Naturally, it was my duty to cry out for help. I yelled as loud as I could and you’ll never guess who turned up! It was none other than the Spectacular Spider-Man himself!

The following takes place between 11pm and 12am:

Cedric stands across the room from me, gun trained on me. I dare not make any sudden movements that will startle or annoy him. He’s quite the sharpshooter. Naturally, I’m concerned about why he’s holding me hostage, and we have a third party to explain things to. Let’s call him SSM.

SSM: Put the gun down, vile villain. Or else I’ll take you down.

Cedric: Hey ‘Spider-Man’! No need for violence. I’m a peacef…

SSM: You’re holding an innocent man hostage!

Cedric (chuckles sarcastically): This guy? Oh, he’s far from innocent. The things he’s done! If I told you, you’d blush with embarrassment.

Me: Hey, turn it down a notch. You know we’re playing right?

Cedric: Shush! Stay in character.

SSM: Look, I’m not sure of what’s going on here, but the guy with the gun is clearly not the victim. Why don’t you tell me what’s up so we can work something out.

Cedric: All I want is for him to hand me the Chalice of Zerunath.

SMM: What's that?

Cedric: It's an artifact that amplifies the user's latent abilities to exponential levels. It has the power to effect real change, and yet all this buffoon does with it is keep it in his study. I'm telling you, such power doesn't belong to people who can't wield it.

Me: That kind of power is dangerous for anyone to wield. You know about dangerous power, don't you, Spider-Man?

SSM: I know a thing or two. But you know, with great power comes...

Me: Ah, cummon Spider-Man! Get out of my face with such nonsense. Do you not know that power corrupts? How about the mere thought of it? Look at Cedric. He's obsessed with it.

Cedric: Yeah, because it hurts to see you just hold on to something even you are afraid to use. Tell me, what terrifies you about it?

Me: Nothing.

Cedric: Really? Then why don't you use it?

Me: I don't want to hurt anyone in the process.

Cedric: Oh please! Pain is inevitable. It's like trying to stop the flow of time. It is going to happen whether you contribute or not. 

SSM: Cedric does have a point, you know.

Me: You're taking HIS side now? 

SMM: How about you hand me that chal...

Cedric and I (in unison): NO!

SMM: Sheesh! I'm just trying to help here.

Cedric: Give me the Chalice. You're not using it. What good is it just sitting there?

Me (contemplating): What if I prove you wrong and use it?

Cedric: No matter how you use it, you can never wield its power like I can. You know why? Because I'm better than you.

SSM makes himself comfortable on the wall adjacent to us. It’s disturbing to talk to a guy sitting on a wall. Then again, they do call him ‘spectacular’.

SSM: Interesting!

Cedric: I’m just tired of being treated like a second-class citizen. We both know I’M the brains of this operation.

Me: Brains? More like brawn. You barely ever think. All you are capable of is ‘doing’.

Cedric: Just because I think faster than you can comprehend doesn’t mean I don’t think at all.

SSM (midway through munching crisps): Oh snap!

Cedric and I (in unison): Where the heck did you get crisps from?

SSM: That’s irrelevant at the moment. As you recall, I’m here to save a victim. But it’s becoming confusing to understand which one of you it is.So, get on with clearing the air. I have a train to catch.

Me: The Midnight Express?

Cedric groans and rolls his eyes. In that moment, I see the emptiness that's within him. It's pretty sad. I almost feel sorry for him. But he does have me at gunpoint still. I have to resolve this quickly.

SSM: Okay. Each of you is going to tell me what you want with the chalice. Then I'll decide who's the real bad guy. You know, because it's an instinct only heroes have.

Me: Heh... I seem to recall that most of your troubles are brought about by your own flawed point of view, Spider-Man. You're no saint. 

Cedric: Strange. I agree.

SSM: Can we please get back to the point?

Cedric: Well, I already told you what I want to do with it.

Me: You want it?! Fine. You have it. Let's see what you can do with it. 

Cedric: I thought you'd never ask.

We head to the study where the Chalice is kept. Cedric walks toward it, eyes mesmerized by his delusions of grandeur as he reaches for it. But before he can touch it, a glass cage drops from above, encasing him. He angrily beats the glass but it doesn't budge. He empties his clip at it but it's all vanity. He collapses to his knees in exasperation as he realizes the gravity of his situation. 

Me: I told you. Your obsession with power will be the end of you.

Cedric: This isn't over. Not by a long shot.

Me: No, it's not. But you must never forget why I'm the Alpha of this operation.

SSM picks his jaw up from the floor.

SSM: You're the villain?!

Me: No. I'm the guardian. This Cedric fellow is a nut case and needs to be closely monitored. I don't even know where he got the gun. Who knows what he'll do if I let him have the run of things? 

SSM was kind enough to vacate the premises without further incident. It's a good thing he showed up and bought me time or else Cedric would surely have overrun me. (*shivers at the thought of it.)

The Versatile Blogger Award

There I was, on a lazy Sunday afternoon enjoying my weekly serving of comics. Upon a sudden, my phone buzzed with distracting urgency. I checked and saw that it was a Twitter notification. I tossed the phone aside and continued reading. I do not pay attention to Facebook and Twitter much during the weekend. They have a nasty way of inducing unwarranted FOMO. What with all the situation pics and trendy hashtags (is that what they call trending topics?). Anyway, I saw the message today morning and... Here we are! 

Thank you Nev and Denise for nominating me for the suspicious (Cedric: Ahem, it's 'auspicious'.), sorry... auspicious award. I didn't even know I was noteworthy until well-respected readers of my blog brought it to my attention. Babawe kyemunywa.

The Rules (I'd like to think of them as more like... guidelines.)

1. Thank the person that nominated you and include a link to their blog.

2. Nominate at least 15 bloggers of your choice. When considering a fellow blogger for the Versatile Blogger Award, keep in mind the quality of their writing, the uniqueness of their subject matter and the level of love displayed on the virtual page.
3. Link your nominees and let them know about their nomination.
4. Share seven facts about yourself

The following people have amused, inspired, excited, frustrated, informed and enlightened me through their writings. As such, they deserve to be nominated (I'm not heavy on praises, except when I'm MC'ing. Then I'm brazenly extravagant with the niceties).

Simon - You could think his life is entirely comedic. Good thing he blogs regularly.

Rogers - No one narrates escapades like this lawyer/cook.

Robyn - When you read his stuff, you feel like you're sailing on the Mississippi (or a similar river not known for rapids).

Edmund - Back in the day, he used to be a big deal. He kinda faded from the limelight.

Edna - She has a certain quiet appeal about her that lingers long after the tab has been closed.

Beewol - Crazy, both in thought and in deed.

Bazanye - Wizened sage of the writing arts, and wannabe comedian. 

Lynn - My mortal enemy. But she deserves a mention, for all the trouble she's caused me.

Rhyno - Mostly philosophical. Some of his posts have been known to induce violent headaches (sometimes resulting from furious fits of laughter).

Colin - His insights are, well... Insightful. This one doesn't know the meaning of 'going easy'.

Qatahar - Thanks to him, information is not boring to read, at all. 

Pearl - She wears her heart on her sleeves, as it were. Look, they have frills! 

Olee Branch (Yeah, one of those with whom you have to use both names. Singularly, they don't have gravitas) Beautiful in word as she is in being.

Those guys of Urban Legend - They are legion-dary! (Cedric is groaning, but he'll be fine.)

Peter - how I wish he were a playwright instead.

These are either little known or very known facts:

#1 - I don't like animals. I tolerate them. I'm not cruel to them. I just find a way to coexist peacefully with them. Although there was this one cat...

#2 - I'm the guy that will sit quietly at a bar and watch life happen around him, feeling no need to partake. I'm happy being left alone to my thoughts. However, it has recently come to my attention that if I continue behaving like that, I won't be invited to many parties. They have forced my hand, so for the most part, I'll behave like I'm really interested in socializing.

#3 - I love liver! Sadly, there's not many people/places that prepare liver the way I like it, so I barely indulge. 

#4 - I barely go on coffee dates for the coffee. Depending on the time and level of hunger, it can be anything from ice cream to a burger with fries. So, when someone says, "Let's meet for coffee," I tend to get confused. 

#5 - I've never gone on a blind date. Probably never will. One of the few things that I dread.

#6 - I don't know why people mistake me for an IT guy. I'm not. Not even close.

#7 - I'm a man of few words, but plenty of imagination. And it's not odd to catch me talking to myself. Okay, maybe it is but I no longer care.

Now, if you'd be so kind as to pass this along (and do the same, of course), the world will be a better place. If butterflies could clap, you'd be dancing by now. But wait... (listens ko) you may dance now.

The Little Known Life Of A Newborn...

Sleep is peace. Sleep is calm. Sleep is serenity. And you can imagine with what rage I reacted when I was abruptly woken up from my slumber.

Now, I'd spent all my life encapsulated in a viscous medium. I didn't need anything. Life was simple and straightforward. Before I knew it, I felt appendages prodding and pulling at my head, followed by muffled sounds of what seemed like concern. I shook about vigorously to fend them off, but they remain unrelenting in their quest to disturb my peace. At that point, I just relaxed and let them be. It took them a while, but they eventually found the means to 'liberate' me from my peaceful confinement.

My arrival was greeted by cheers of excitement and sighs of relief. Apparently, my mother was concerned about my tardiness. I had announced my imminent arrival several hours in advance, but I was taking my time to actually vacate the premises. There was a problem and I had to be evacuated via less-than-ideal means. Anyway, here we were. I found myself crying as my lungs filled with air for the first time. but these adults, instead of noticing my pain, they just clapped and hi-fived themselves like I had just recited an amazing poem or won a bet. I was whisked away to another quieter room and immersed in a warm liquid. It felt oddly comforting and I almost fell asleep if it wasn't for the roughness with which I was being handled. Anyway, several minutes later I'm placed in what felt like a warm dry box and I just drifted off into sleep.

I woke up a while later, to a warm sensation on my... Wait. I know what you're thinking. Everything is warm, warm, warm. I don't know why yet. Must be the norm in these parts. I've only felt little pangs of something other than warm. Only for split seconds at best. I guess I'll learn the reason why sometime later. As I was saying, I woke up to a warm sensation on my face. I tried to look up, but I could barely make out the images I'm seeing. I wonder what I was expecting, having just opened them for the first time. I'll save that for later. I needed to do a check on what senses were working before I descend into a state of total panic.

I heard the sound of a familiar heartbeat though. It was a little weak, but I'd know that heartbeat anywhere. I tried to move my limbs, but all they did was twitch about spasmodically. I couldn't even scratch the itch on my face. My hands seemed to be covered in some layer of cloth. I'm aware of the individual appendages at the end of my arms, but they didn't move as well and I'd have wanted them to. It's the same story about my legs. I kept hearing people drawing close and saying, "Aww... She looks just like her mother," and, "She has her father's ears!" I wouldn't know. Haven't had the chance to form my own opinion of their opinions. I tried to ask them why they thought so, but someone shoved a soft conical object into my mouth. My attempt to spit it out inadvertently led to biting into it, which caused a flood of liquid to fill my mouth. Come to think of it, I was indeed feeling queer, and this amazing liquid seemed to be doing the trick in making me feel better.

After being 'around' for a while, I'm starting to think I'm speaking to idiots. They never quite seem to understand a word of what I'm saying, yet I can understand them. They seem to fumble about with different remedies to my summons until they stumble upon what I wanted them to know. It's so tiresome that I fall asleep soon after my need has been met. On the other hand, it's a rather peaceful life so I can't complain that much.

As it appears, I'll be spending most of my days in this semi-sentient state until my motor and linguistic abilities develop some more. In the meantime, they'll keep treating me like and calling me a baby. I don't know why, but being a baby is far from adorable from my point of view. Amidst being randomly poked, tickled, smiled at and called names, I have to at least keep my eyes open to show some semblance of life and interest in what they are doing. They have a tendency to get worried by my inactivity. And yet, the only way I can get away from all this nonsense is by falling asleep.

Sleep is peace. Sleep is calm. Sleep is serenity.