Still Being Random

Nobody actually knows when the Anteater first began its journey down the walk of its cuisine. Everyone, who has ever been plagued by ants, has always voiced their disdain and annoyance. So whenever anyone mentions the thought of eating ants, or even the indifference of having eaten ants, most people would react in a horrified manner.

Yet, for the Anteater, none of this mattered. It was finally home from a tiring day going about its business. All it wanted to do was curl up in its lair and rest its mind. The only way it knew how to do this, though, was through reading. Oh, not many people knew that an Anteater could read! Then again, how many of us have ever thought to ask the Anteater if it could read? If we had ever had the presence of mind to ask, it would surely say 'Yes!'.

So the Anteater lay down in its favourite patch and read its current reading material. While it read, the Anteater decided to dip its claws into its trove of goodies. It was smug and enjoying all the good things of the day. After a long, grueling day at the grindstone, earning its keep, the Anteater felt it deserved this downtime.

So the Anteater ate as it read, decidedly content and refusing to even entertain the thought of stopping or moving to do anything else. Once in awhile the Anteater noticed a smell. It was a hint but enough to be noticed. It was the smell of those tiny ants that bite and leave a mark. Those same ants were also known to smell bad. But the Anteater thought it was from its treasure trove of goodies.

Until it felt a little bite on its claw. Instinctively, the Anteater sat up and swiped at its claw. Frowning in displeasure, it looked into its bag of goodies and saw ants crawling in the bag. Then it realised one thing. All this while, it thought that the goodies smelled of ants. As it turned out, it really WAS eating ants!

And you know what makes it worst?

The Anteater was ME!

I attended Idles of March last night and I think it was an interesting affair. I know I had a lot of fun until the regular customers came in and just blew it for me. We had jazz, blues and even 80s music going. Then when our session finished and the house took over, the place got really stale for me really quickly. It didn't help that some very rude people were there early and kept talking loudly throughout the poetry reading and story telling time. It only goes to show that no matter where you put them, no matter how posh the ambiance, uncouth will remain uncouth.

Anyway, regardless of this, I had fun in the first few hours I was there and I'm actually looking forward to the next one. Which by popular demand, might be sometime in the second half of this year.

I came across a very interesting article in the newspaper the other day. It was in the Nature and Health supplement of the Borneo Post. I don't usually read this section but this article was, interestingly, titled ' Nice Guys vs Good Men'.

For someone who has more guy friends than girl friends and has a lot of male students who are a little confused about their place in the universe, I thought this would be a very interesting thing to read. The first line caught my attention and held it fast. It said - 'We know that "nice guys" tend to end up in the dreaded "just-be-friends" zone. But that doesn't stop women everywhere from claiming that this is what they really want in a man. So, what's the deal here?'

Then the next interesting line - 'The difference between a genuinely good man who attracts women and one who ultimately does not, is centred around from what position he he presents in performing his 'good guy' behaviour. Men who act nice form a position of weakness end up rejected. Men who are in a position of strength, yet who treat women well, often make the women so crazy for them that they have more options than they can handle.'

Then there were two headings:
The Nice Guy Who Finishes Last (Having Come From A Position of Weakness)
1. Capitulates to women's whims
2. Is afraid to lose the woman he is with
3. Has zero leadership ability
4. Lacks confidence
5. Has thinly veiled ulterior motives

The Good Man Who Wins (Having Come From A Position of Strength)
1. Treats ALL women well, regardless of sexual attractiveness
2. Does not respect sex - men without pressing sexual needs cause women to feel more comfortable in their presence. Ironically, women who are comfortable around a man who respects them sexually are more attracted...and ultimately more sexual.
3. Takes charge
4. Has options - If a man can inspire a woman to feel valuable or special, he's on the right track, but getting both right is an unbeatable combination.
5. Has high standards - The man is evaluating the woman he is with rather than trying to impress her.

I thought this article was a very good read. It should be an eye-opener for a lot of men out there. And it also puts into words what we women have been trying to explain to men. It has nothing to do with good guys and bad boys. It has everything to do with how we are treated.

But if some guys have the luck to go gaga over some weak girl who lets herself be abused and such by a bad boy, then they really shouldn't blame the girl completely.

I do take into account the fact that some girls are weak enough to need assurance and insurance more than anything. And I do take into account that, for all a guy claims he prefers brains over looks, he usually picks looks anyway. So it's rather unusual to find a woman who is smart, confident and beautiful. And when they do find her, the guys are too overwhelmed to approach her anyway.

But in the true typical make way, it's still us females who get blamed. So the next time we talk lowly of guys, this is why. We are very aware of our own weaknesses. We acknowledge that we have them and that many of our kind have them. We look down upon such weak females who need sugar daddies or willing to be mistresses and such. But at least we admit it happens.

But overall, I finally figured out why I was so quickly attracted to Shook. He does display the traits found in the Good Man Who Wins. He has his bad boy moments which everyone else sees. But whatever good guy traits he shows, so far, is only for those very close to him to see. And any better traits are only for me to see. Which is how it should be.

And if you wish you could see it, if you're a girl you better stay away because I can get possessive, and if you're a guy maybe you should consider coming out of the closet!

The school sits quietly near the center of the city. It's not a very big building but many have admitted that it can look overwhelming. Even on its most active days, the school looks almost deserted, giving passers-by the idea that maybe it's not a school or maybe it has a different schedule from other schools.

Yet, on the inside, the school bustles with activity and noise. Children running from room to room although running is very much against the rules. But, how can one tell boisterous, hyperactive children that their very instincts to run and scream is wrong?

During the day, the school sits in relative silence when the lessons are going on. But as soon as the bell rings, chaos breaks out like a fiery stallion finally released into the wild. Walking along the corridors become more dangerous than walking into the path of an F1 car during a race. The only safer alternative would be to stay within the classrooms but anyone who does so gets deluged by screams and bangs and booms that seem to permeate the walls. The city of London during the Blitz might have felt the same way in comparison.

Then, after school is over, it gets quiet all over again. Dusk falls and the security moves in for the night. The gates are closed and the night goes on as everyone goes about their way; heading home to rest and relax and maybe prepare themselves mentally and physically for the next day.

The roads outside quieten down as the night goes on. The cars lessen and the noises start to die down. The houses on either side of the school become dark as the residents bed down for the night. The night creatures arise to do what Nature intended them to do.

There are times when the school becomes truly only a silent, looming building. Occasionally, the security would switch on all the lights, flooding the building with a semblance of life. But the classrooms remain in darkness because it would take too long and too much energy to go through them all.

But sometimes, a light would flicker in the room at the topmost floor. Nobody is in there but the light would go on and then switch off after a few minutes. Sometimes even after a few hours. Some people have justified it by saying the security might have done it. But the security changes over the week. Unless there is a rule that they must switch on the lights in that particular room, there is no known reason for the lights to behave as they have.

At other times, some teachers have returned at night to finish some of their work. They would be in their classrooms, marking books or papers or finishing off some reports on the computer. A lot of times, they have reported that the night security brings his children into work. They can hear the children running up and down the corridors, sometimes banging on the doors as they go by. When the teachers later head out for the night, they make a comment to the security about it and he gives them the odd look. He has no children. He's not even married. There's nobody else on the premises other than him and the teacher. He has seen no children that night. But the teacher definitely heard them.

Sometimes, even during the day, a girl is seen in the upper floor. She looks out the windows as if lamenting her own inability to be outside. Other times, she's looking into the classrooms as if wanting to be inside. She looks curious. She wants to know what is going on. Yet, she is trapped where she is. Unable to leave yet finding no reason to stay. Sometimes, she's invited into the classes to watch but she is warned not to touch or disturb. Maybe she is grateful because she does as she is told. She watches closely. So close that a more sensitive person could feel her. She never sits but she reads over shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, for the moment, her curiosity is satisfied and she has learned something. But eventually, she goes back to her window and looks out. Sadly. Trapped once more.

Only a few know of this. But more shall know soon enough. The school is getting restless. Its usefulness is coming to an end. The building is slowly losing all its insides. There is a newer, younger version of it. Soon, it will stand empty and silent. It will truly be deserted. It is not happy to be left behind. Sadness fills its walls. A tinge of anger permeates its structure.

It shows its anger more than its sadness. It sits there, heavy, making things difficult for the people who are walking in and out, carrying its insides out to the trucks. At night, it manifests itself, locking toilet doors, forcing the people in the toilets to kick the doors open to get out. It throws the remaining tables and chairs as if trying to exorcise its own anger at being left behind.

Today, it stands silent. Large. Alone. Maybe it is biding its time. Maybe it has something planned. Maybe it is hoping it, too, could move along with its insides.

The children may be silent. The girl may still just be waiting in increased desolation. Maybe.

We can only wait and see.

Most people are afraid of public speaking. There is a difference between talking about nothing to whole bunch of strangers and talking with a purpose to a whole bunch of strangers.

Talking to strangers does not bother me. What does bother me is the act of performing. Even if I can sing, the moment I have to sing in public, my voice actually croaks. Just as I'll dance but if you pay me any attention while I dance, I'll dance wrong. Clubbing is different. Any idiot can go clubbing. In fact, I have seen some idiots dancing at clubs.

So tonight, I have to do two things. One, I actually have to be a dessert princess who has fallen in love with a man who can't choose between two women. So much so that the women went to war over him. It's something I'll personally never do but for the sake of my speech project, I'll do it.

The other thing I need to do is lead a few people who have never bellydanced in a belly dancing routine. Aaarrggh! If I wasn't too tired to scream and fret about it, I would.

So I'm nervous as hell and the only thing that keeps me calm now is the fact that nobody will know I've done anything wrong unless I tell them. Haha! The first rule of public speaking - Nobody knows you've made a mistake unless you tell them.

And tonight, I ain't telling.

I haven't been updating because I've been either too tired to do so or too lazy. I haven't even been checking my emails either.

Anyway, there's a lot going on with me these few days. It's the school holidays but I've been going in to work because we're in the process of moving campus. Anyone who has ever moved house before can imagine what it's like but multiply it by at least 5 or 10 more. Since I was not sure what time exactly the movers would move my stuff, I went in early this morning to move some of my lighter things. So I managed to get 6 out of the 11 boxes over to the new campus. And when I got there, I proceeded to unpack and put things aside. Then, after lunch, I went back to the campus and helped the administrative staff to organise the hundreds of keys to the hundreds of new cabinets. All in all, I only left the school at 6 p.m.

I went to Shook's place to shower and we went to buy a roll of ribbons for me to use as borders on the diplay boards. Then I went to meet up with Gette. After that, I went to sit and watch the guys play Munchkin or something like that. At this point, I was barely intelligent and whatever I said was forgotten the following minute. But the cards had pictures so it was easy.

By the time I got home, (after being out for 12 hours!) I was sleepy but I needed to finish editing a booklet. Now I'm not so sleepy anymore.

And, when I'm alone, I think about things I have no right to interfere with and I get a little depressed. But as Shook says it, love hurts. And as I like to say it, we do what we can for those we truly love.

Not even the glorious eye candy of 300 was enough to cheer me up for long. Then again, if I was at the age when half-naked, buffed, violent men turned me on, I'd be a puddle on the nasty cineplex floor. As it is, I enjoyed and appreciated. I intend to buy the DVD with all possible extras when it does come out.

Tomorrow, I go back to work to push myself physically and then tomorrow night, I'll go make my monodrama speech. And then I'll go home and collapse into bed before I strangle a certain individual who has selective understanding.

Other than that, I refuse to think or feel. I just don't want to. Not yet.