I was staring at my computer screen as per usual, with my Trillian contact list clearly visible.  I’ve organized my contact list by size of conversation history, so at the top of the list I have people whom I’ve conversed with since I’ve begun logging my conversation history, and then the rest of the list is in alphabetical order.  I realized I really only talk to a few selected people on the list.  It suddenly bothered me that there were all these other people on the list whom I never talk to.  Then I thought maybe I should start talking to all the other people, one by one, just to see whether they’d be willing to talk to me.  After all, what is the point of having people on your contact list if you are never going to talk to them?  It would be an interesting social experiment.  I don’t know if I’ll pull through with it.  It’d be easy to get discouraged after being snubbed by some.  And it may be one of those ideas that seem great in the first instant but gradually become un-interesting.  It would be nice to level out the contact list a bit.  That’s really all I want.

I read a post with a title that implied clowns have killed more people in the US than the swine flu.  It’s an intriguing title.  Well turns out it was really only one clown, John Wayne Gacy.  And he wasn’t a full-time clown.  He just threw some parties for kids in the neighbourhood as a clown.  And it doesn’t sound like he dressed as a clown when he killed.  So what makes someone a ‘clown’ ?  How many times do they have to appear as a clown to be labelled a clown?  If he was dressed as a clown when he killed a boy, and that was the only time he has ever dressed as clown, would they still say the murderer was a clown?  ‘Terrorist’ belongs in the same category.  How many times do you have to terrorize before you become a terrorist?  What constitutes ‘terrorizing’?  

Anyway, the main thing I want to say is I hate clowns.

I have to look away anytime a boy starts leaning back in his chair on its hind legs.  It’s a fear of watching someone fall and being completely embarassed.  It’s for the same reason I don’t watch figure skating competitions.  They fall.  It would happen eventually.  You don’t know when, but you know that it’s impending.  The unknowing of when it will happen is too much.  It’s exciting in a way.  And it’s one of those things that once you start watching you can’t really look away anymore.  You now have to keep looking to see whether it will happen or not.  It’s a car wreck waiting to happen.  It’s an unexplanable attraction to collosal impacts.

I’m tempted to try the method of having someone thwack me in the face with a ball multiple times until I’m stunned into a non-thinking state.  It’s like forced meditation.  I imagine you could get some sense of inner peace from it.  Where it suddenly gets very quiet and nothing around you matters anymore.  The material world and the things you worry about are no longer important.  The moment is yours, and you are the only being in that time and space.  Nothing can intrude on it.  You are the only being in that realm, just like how it should be.

Being tired and not be able to sleep is one of the most natural forms of torture.  But there’s something about the irony of it that makes me not deteste it that much.  Ambivalence is always intriguing.  It seems like integrity is being compromised, but ambivalence is no doubt part of humanity.  Integrity in the sense of “one and one only”.  Humans cannot be integral in that sense; that’s part of what makes humans human.  Having faults is also what makes humans human.  But is being ambivalent a fault?

I’m glad I don’t have an addictive personality.  I was addicted to JamLegend for the whole day yesterday.  Today I played only two songs before pulling away completely and coming back to life.  Where there are tens of jobs postings, awaiting my application.  Game-playing is not bad though.  I find game-players to have quicker reflexes in general, which is something I would like to improve on.  Things cannot be wholly bad, just as things cannot be wholly good.  I just found out milk is supposedly not that good for you.  Who’d have thunk?

It’s not unusual for me to tear up during sad or touching parts of movies.  But hardly ever do tears actually roll out.  But they did during “City Lights”.  The last scene was unexpectedly overwhelming. Charlie Chaplin’s expression at the end was the best acting I’ve seen.  That was the point where I lost it.  The story itself was so simple, yet so well-told and engaging.  And it was a mute flick.

Mr. Chaplin is a good man.

I got a new mouse today.  My new mouse is my new best friend.  He is black and sleek and perches silent and still in my hands.  He listens well.  He plays well.  He doesn’t have a tail but he is still very pretty.  I hope I won’t ever have to give him back.

Hanging out with Hongers reminds me that I haven’t been in touch with HK pop culture for at least the past year.  Never thought about watching new TVB series for the longest time.  Or catching up to the latest Cantopop tunes.  Mostly it’s actually because their quality has been steadily deteriorating.  But as always, there’s that nostalgic component that keeps bringing me back.  I had to sing pop songs from people’s 2nd to last albums in karaoke.  I am an out-of-touch geezer.  By the way people should stop writing songs about how paparazzi’s and journalists slander pop singers and trash their images.  Yes they do it and it’s bad but this topic is a katrillion years old.  I’m bored.  Talk about something else.

I don’t remember how I got the revolver anymore.  I remember coming across another gun of some sort and not liking it.  I had trouble firing it or aiming it or something.  Then I must have mentioned it to someone, because I ended up having this brand new revolver appearing out of nowhere.  It was black and shiny and compact.  I had never used firearms of any sort before, but somehow I knew how to turn the cylinder and snap it in place.  I wanted to test it out, see how far of a target I could hit.  So I walked down a couple blocks, until I saw this tree top that was very far away… maybe a few blocks away.  For some reason I thought this was a plausible distance.  I aimed.  Fired.  Aimed, fired again.  Didn’t see anything get hit or blasted off.  I paused.  Then I thought, why is it okay for me to just go out into the streets and start firing off my revolver?  People aren’t coming out of their homes and yelling for me to stop.  Well.  I suppose one reason could be that I have a gun in my hand.