“A person may cause evil to others not only by his actions but by his inaction, and in either case he is justly accountable to them for the injury.” -  John S. Mill

“True courage is not the brutal force of vulgar heroes, but the firm resolve of virtue and reason.” – Alfred N. Whitehead

“Pay attention to your enemies, for they are the first to discover your mistakes.”

“It is impossible to speak in such a way that you cannot be misunderstood.” – Karl Popper

“It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.”

You’re an airhead, not a bimbo.

You have a helium-filled mind
connected by a breakable string
to a clown that keeps it down

until the coming of the Scissors
to set it frightfully free.

The moniker of misunderstoodsunshinekid sounds like some teenage bubblegum nickname that reeks of adolescence and youthfulness. And certainly not very appropriate for a man who turned 21 for the sixth time this year. There is, of course, a meaning behind this deliberate choice of words.

Coined towards the end of my time in Ngee Ann Polytechnic where I studied Mass Communication, it first appeared in the yearbook which was contributed by and distributed to every student in the cohort. The editorial team asked each of us for a photograph and three words that best described ourselves. Come to think of it, considering that I’ve not seen 90% of my school mates since we graduated, these three words would actually go a long way in helping us remember each other.

It was really amusing to see some of the entries. The more commonly used words were “Bubbly”, “Friendly”, “Outgoing”, “Sociable”, “Funny”, etcetera – basically words that were safe, correct and well, forgettable. There were some that went out of the box with “Nobody Knows Me”, “Damned I’m Good”, “Ahh Whatever Lah” and “I Am Indescribable”. But the one that tickled me most was “Humourous, Cheerful, Easygoing” and attached with the words was a really fierce, unfriendly and serious picture. Nice.

Without going into too much detail, here’s why I chose “Misunderstood Sunshine Kid”:

Misunderstood
Half my life I’ve been misunderstood for my intentions, choice of words and actions. I’d like to believe that it’s always been love-hate with me; people don’t really have a neutral feeling towards me. They either like me or dislike me. And because of this I almost always end up leaving either a great or a horrible first impression. As I age, I’ve learnt to deal with it by simply not bothering about it; I cannot please everyone, so I’ve learnt to stop having to justify or explain what I say or do. I’ve embraced this as a part of me and the only approval I seek would be that of God’s. I’ve learnt to take myself less seriously and not be so uptight about what people say or think about me. Yeah, I know this sounds very teenage/emo/angst, but hey, this term was coined when I was a 19-year-old teenager.

Sunshine
I’ve always been a positive and optimistic person and I think that it rubs off on the people that I interact with, especially with those in my sphere of influence. I’d like to I exude a “You can do it” vibe. On a side note, my heart goes out to pessimistic and negative people, but how they live their lives is their problem, not mine. I desire to be contented and always joyful. Another ethos which I live by is, “I could always be happier but I am situationally contented”. That was a phrase I coined together with PL some years ago. To an extent this word contradicts the former, but both somehow capture a key essence of my personality and character.

Kid
I’m always up to some mischief and I’ve always enjoyed being cheeky and naughty. There is a difference between being childish and childlike. I never want to lose the sense of wonder that children have. I always want to retain the kid in me, for the kid that I will have in future. I am confident that I will be a father with the “sparkle” in his eye. You know, kids are actually very sensitive and can detect sincerity from hypocrisy. I enjoy playing with kids and I think they (know it and) enjoy it too because they see it in my eyes – that I really want to play with them and I’m not afraid of embarrassing myself. I’ve always dreamt about being the father that my father never was to me. And for that to happen, I’ll always have that boyish playfulness hidden behind a now older and wiser head.

Each word could be an entry in itself so I’ll just leave it like that until I decide to elaborate further.

“The best things cannot be told, the second best are misunderstood.  After that comes civilized conversation; after that, mass indoctrination; after that, intercultural exchange.  And so, proceeding, we come to the problem of communication.”  Joseph Campbell

The following story is one I wrote on December 6th of last year. We were asked to write a character sketch on ANYONE in the classroom so I decided to write one about myself. I remember it being one of the most difficult things I had ever written. I had to write about myself from someone elses’ point of view. I just dug this out of my English folder from last year and when I read it, I realized that it seems even more true now then it had been when I wrote it last year, even though it was totally true last year too. I don’t know. I just thought it was cool. And I encourage all of you to write about yourself from the point of view of someone else… it is a good way to learn more about yourself. So without further ado… here it goes.

………………………………..

Her legs were curled up with her knees and shins pushing against the empty bus seat in front of her, making her tiny stature seem even smaller than usual. It’s interesting seeing the kinds of things she can do with her petite body. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail on the back of her head, and her red highlights were glinting in the sun that was streaming through the window, making a rarely seen contrast against her dark brown hair.

The strangest thing about this girl is her personality. Five minutes ago she was laughing and joking with all of the people around her. Then she became so absorbed in a book that even the Apocalypse couldn’t have grabbed her attention. It was amazing how far she had gotten in that book, just yesterday it had been handed to her and now it looks as if she is almost done. The speed at which her mind processes words must be flabbergasting.

She has changed very much since last year. She was very quiet and she kept to herself, not really caring to meet new people. The only people I ever saw her hanging out with had been her best friends for years. She only allowed a choice few to really see who she was. She hid herself from the world. And now here she was making tons of new friends, talking and laughing much more than last year.

She had looked up just a minute ago… at what I am unsure. She just looked up, pushed her new red glasses up her nose, and smiled at nothing, her small pink lips parting ever so slightly, bringing life to her somewhat pale face which had become inert and unresponsive when she was reading.

She must have finished the book then because she closed it softly and sighed. She twisted her legs around and folded them under her body. She then turned her head to talk to a blond girl behind her. “I’m done!” she exclaimed, handing the book back to the girl who had given it to her. Her voice rang with satisfaction and was laced with a smugness uncommon in her voice. “You’re already done?! I just finished the first one!” blondie said. “You did?!” asked the girl with obvious excitement. “What did you think?” She was totally alive now and exulting joy as she launched into a conversation on the book.

Last year she wasn’t like this. Last year she was one of the shyest, quietest people I had ever met. People saw her as fragile and sensitive. They were cautious around her, not wanting to offend or upset her. I have a feeling that she knew this. People who had never met her may have assumed that she was hard to be around, and I guess that was somewhat true. It is difficult to hang out with someone so different from you, so different from anyone you know. She was, and still is, so unique that it can be difficult to fully understand her, and that can be frustrating both for her and the people around her. I know that there are sometimes when even her life-long friend doesn’t understand her. But like a good friend, this friend just accepts that her friend is different, because they’re best friends. I bet she’s really grateful to that friend for sticking with her.

Even now that this girl has come out of her shell so much and has made so many new friends, you can still sometimes see in her green eyes that she is still lonely and misunderstood, even though this is less common than it was last year. She has changed so much that sometimes I hardly recognize her.

The bus slowed to a stop and the girl picked up her swim bag and hopped off the bus, skipping to the door of the school with blondie. They were still talking about that book and smiling and laughing the whole way. I know that when she got on the bus the next day, or even just after practice, she would act completely different. Maybe she’ll talk the whole ride. Maybe she will stare out the window, not really seeing anything. She has done both before. I guess it all depends on if she feels she has something to say.

……………………………..

There is no evil, nor stupidity. There are just disrespected and misunderstood people.

Let’s start with evil.

Evil is to do something that hurts one or more beings (excluding do it accidently)

To harm, for example:

1. intrigue (one target, mental )
2. punch (one target, physical)
3. sexual assault, torture (one target, p & m)
4. amok, serial killer (nonspecific target)
5. organised crime, gangs, terrorists/ freedom fighter (target groups)
6. start a war (target a nation):

Level1-4 = scale of evil or madness

Level 5+6  = scale of power, manipulation and influence of madmen

When an adult gets hurt, he finds a reason if it is justified or not.

When a child gets hurt, it needs a reasonable explanation of what had happened.

To find a way to prevent the pain and control the helplessness that grows inside.

If there is no explanation, it will create one on its own. The child may

1. blame itself (becomes obsequious as adult)
2. blame his abuser (becomes prevalent/dominant to others the same age to prevent himself gettin in the position he experiences at home) or
   
3. blame a certain fact (Dad beat me/ is angry because a foreigner got his job, instead of getting angry on the chief he got angry on the child, blame on foreigner = prejudices)

There are lots of possible creative reasons why something could have happened. A child’s fantasy is unlimited.

The skill of communication/explanation  is limited by parenting, education, experiences and feelings.

How evolves evil?

Harm someone very bad and give him a reason to target his anger on someone.

How evolves madness?

Harm someone and give him no reason and keep him helpless for a long time.

The causes remain the same:

1. lack of communication
2. comes to lack of understanding
3. comes to harm/torture for a certain time
4. comes to feelings of helplessness, depair and anger put under pressure for a long time

How evolves so called ’stupidity’?

The causes remain the same again. But you subtract harm, torture, pain and despair.

1. lack of communication between parents/teacher and children
2. comes to lack of understanding
3. comes to lack of problem solving competence
4. comes to feelings of helplessness and dispair for a long time

In every culture, there is a drug dealer, a terrorist and doctor.

Which skin color and nationality you relate them depends on your prejudices by experience and media.

Do you get my point of view?

Don’t blame – understand and respect/tolerate others.

We are born the same.

Appearence and cultural background may be different

but feelings we share are the same.

One Year
—————-

one year can teach you alot
one year is all you’ve got
to either save what you won
or to lose it all in one go

one year will show you many colours
of who you thought were winners
one year is what i needed to figure
what is smaller and which is bigger

one year is all it took
for you to have mistook
and now you turn and look
at what for granted you took

one year indeed is how long
it took me to write this song
and it can be a mile long
to remind me of what i did wrong

one year has turned me into an addict
forgive me but i’ve fallen very deep
if you dont pay attention, you’ll be kicked
and from everyone you knew, you’ll be freed

one year passed by rather slowly
not for you but for me really
every single day was a long sad story
now here i am on the hundredth storey

one year passed before i realised
that all the good good guys
to whom i said my final byes
had actually only lied

one year ago i saw her the last time
and it feels funny to know she’s fine
one more year is probably the deadline
for me to return to the starting line

one year has killed the very reason
for which i was trying to reason
my existance, season after season
one year is a big book of lessons

one year is only 365 days
each day stealing some rays
that i thought i would have always
now gray, no matter what anyone says

one year passed and i’ve found myself
i knew all along i was a poet
but one year taught me that
i can only write blues and sad

i guess it was meant to be
one year has indeed killed
the indian poet who already
died one year ago,.. when he lost everything

-dex (15/11/09)

Hardly

As if trapped within the mask of the cheerful and suppressing the pink elephant from arising.

Help

this is a surrender

Why doesn’t it feel alright when i’m home alone these days, an extreme feeling of nothingness keeps bothering me.

Today is the first day ever in the busy week i could lay and rest, but of course feeling annoying because of my sore throat. I picked up Statistics book to read a few lines and felt dizzy because it must be written for scientists, couldn’t understand a word from it.

A few messages came over showing a crave for caring, and i sent a few back to show some care, somehow there arose some misunderstandings, i was blamed for being cold-hearted, i felt bad, i threw away the phone, if somebody wanted me to be that cold-hearted, i shouldn’t keep showing that i care.

I picked Z up and helped him find his box of love, that’s all i could do to help him ease the feeling of bad luck. I was sort of jealous of the way he appreciated the love in that box, how i wished i was also appreciated by the love i gave to my beloved ones, still couldn’t forget the times when i was ignored by them. I was shared a few flamenco techniques, which may take me weeks to achieve, but learning new things was fun.

I came back home and felt bad, again because of my sore throat, maybe i should take some medicines instead of keep believing in the magic of fruits =.= I walked upstair and headed straight to laptop to see if i can keep going on with Statistics. The new ebook i downloaded was kind of easy to understand and colors didn’t make me feel boring much when reading. But the feeling of nothingness kept making me feel terrible, so i looked around, i went online on Y!M, google talk, skype, whatever, nobody was around, if feels very bad if i couldn’t let out the stresses in my mind.. So i wrote an entry, and this is it, thanks for reading, i’m heading back to statistics now…

I sit outside this party, just another drinking game.

Spent an hour inside but nobody knows my name.

The odd man out.

A flower on the wall.

I cant deal with this shit.

Can’t deal with feeling small.

There are people that I know.

I thought they were my friends.

They act like they don’t know me.

They don’t fucking know me.

“hey what’s up? Dude, that’s a sweet ass car.

Dude, check out those bitches over there by the bar.”

“I’m gonna get some. Those bitches are fly.

Oh, by the way, I’m gonna forget to say goodbye.”

Fuck this high school shit.

I don’t want to live it again.

Maybe I’m too old.

I’m grown up beyond my years.

It just makes me sick inside that nobody cares.

I’d rather be alone.

It’s better than standing there unknown.

Happy Halloween.

I’m thrilled to inform you that I’ve just discovered that I am in fact NOT crazy.  I’ve filled you in via facebook in the past that I do indeed possess a dichotomous personality.  No. I’m not bipolar.  It’s just that my personality has always clashed with itself.  Well, I’ve just found a name for it.

This is thanks to my everlasting appetite for information, and my desire to read about how demented we all are.  I read Psychology Today from time to time.  Yes that’s the kind of girl I am.  Inquisitive.  A curious seeker looking to delve into the human condition and the commonality of our weirdness.  I consider it a beautiful thing……our shared fuckedupedness.

There was an article about mixed signals and being misunderstood.  The article was followed by a guide about the most frequently misunderstood types.  and there I was!  The Bubbly Introvert.  Hooray! I’m not crazy.  (When there’s a name for things, it helps us think we aren’t crazy…shhhh.  let me take comfort in this please.)

Anyways, here it is:

“The Bubbly Introvert:  When people come across as vivacious, exuberant, and cheerful, we assume they’re extroverts.”

(Okay…this article was so meant for me.. I mean they used the words vivacious and cheer just like me! I take every sign that the universe gives me)

“But some lively people are actually gasping for time to themeselves.  Having good social skills isn’t the same thing as wanting to be around people all the time.”

“The Fix:  Like other introverts, bubbly introverts have to be vigilant about guarding their alone time. ”

ahhhhhhh.  This diagnosis was like a chunk of dark chocolate for me.  Seriously this has been a struggle of mine for as long as I can remember.  I’ve always loved having fun and socializing and then I become exhausted and need a reprieve.  I have admitted to being a social hermit, but have never really met anyone else like this.  This is my truth.

Anyways, now I can officially tell people that I’m a Bubbly Introvert and I’m sorry it’s a curse.

Some others:

The Shy Extrovert

The Effeminate Heterosexual

The Accidental Flirt (Now this one is fun too!)  “Some people are so naturally flirtatious that they send the wrong signals, inadvertently communicating “”I want to sleep with you”" when what they really means is “I’m friendly”.

hahahahhaha! That just described most of my sister saucy vixen friends! (I’ve got a Saucy Vixen post coming soon)

So it’s official.  I’m a misunderstood type and the next time that I’m being a social butterfly and happen to graze your husband’s trousers just so….. please know that I’m just being friendly and I will be disengaging and retreating to solitude in no time.

And also know that I don’t use the word trousers in real life.  It just seemed the right fit for that sentence.  Only Grandpas wear trousers and I’m not that kind of girl.

p.s.

i never said that i did not want a husband or children. i never said that i loathed the idea. in fact, my previous blog (which has sparked a mediocre amount of conversation) explicitly states that i do want those things yet i cannot figure out how to reconcile the person that i have worked for 29 years to become and the wife/mother that most of society says i should become if i were to enter into wifehood or motherhood.

should it happen, it will be quite a challenge–but don’t misread, misunderstand, or read between some type of  pseudo line– i want the challenge.  :p

There are times when the reactions we get from others make us either upset or angry, or both. I am going to suggest something difficult to accept: that we may have contributed to our own discomfort. This is not an easy idea to accommodate. My theory about our contribution is that I think we actually get something from the outrage we feel – I haven’t ever fully understood the “brown stamps” concept in transactional analysis but maybe my pattern is an illustration of what other people manage to articulate more succinctly with that concept.

You do, say or write something; someone responds in a way that you find unpleasant, upsetting, infuriating, unjust… all the things you associate with feelings you prefer not to experience. You feel outraged and possibly misunderstood. You relate the story to someone else, the metamessage being, “Isn’t it unfair? Haven’t I been mistreated here?” You feel righteous in your indignation. With a bit of luck (from your point of view), the person you relate the story to says, “Absolutely!”, “It’s awful!” or similar, so that your righteous indignation feels endorsed and justified. You then go on to repeat the experience… over and over again.

If you really are lucky, however, at some point you will get a challenge rather than an endorsement. I put it that way because I think, in my own case, I have to take some responsibility here and I’d like to try to change my pattern. My feelings have not occurred as a consequence of a situation with no input from me. Whether I like it or not, I have actually gone to the playing field and put myself on it. Maybe I didn’t learn the rules of the game first. Or maybe I made the assumption that I simply could play, could handle the game and be good at it, just because that was what I wanted. Sticking with the analogy, maybe I then found that the way I played the game meant I didn’t score any goals, I got injured, or I got pulled up for fouls and got sent off. In other words, maybe my approach was ineffective or at any rate yielded the opposite of what I intended. What to do?

I think there are various strategies to consider. Some are: 

• Get tougher and roll with the proverbial punches (with apologies for the mixed metaphor!) 
• Commit fewer fouls and therefore get penalised less often 
• Learn to take evading action so that you get tackled less and maybe both avoid injury and get to score.

(This is obviously not an exhaustive list.)

What you do in real life, rather than in the game analogy, depends on what you really want. If the bottom line is that you want to have a story to tell like-minded people, who will empathise with your outrage and agree with your response to it, you will keep doing the same thing and put up with the discomfort of getting there. If not, you have to change something.

I’ve decided that the fun of telling the story is punctured too much by the feelings I have to go through to get to tell it (remember this is cyclical; if you do the same thing, you’re likely to get the same result). I’ve also always found “learning to roll with the punches” more desirable than achievable – call it frailty of character if you like, I just know I don’t find it easy. So I’m going to try to go for sparing myself the feelings in the first place and foregoing the fun of telling the story. Another way of putting it is that I’m going to try to take responsibility for how I feel, and do something about my contribution to that, rather than engineering righteous outrage at how I contend someone else has “made” me feel.

Yep, he put on a great show at the McCarter Theater in Princeton, NJ last night, opening with “Misunderstood,” which he performs here, as well as the second number, “Time’s Gonna Break You”…

…a song about this guy.

I am tired of being treated like a leper.  I am tired of not being asked how I am or how my day went.  I am tired of being made to feel like I am not permitted to speak or make any noise in your presence, except in order to answer your questions or support your arguments.  I am tired of being told to be quiet and stop singing during the day, only to have to listen to the sounds of you fighting in the night.  I am tired of of being made to feel uncomfortable in the midst of your baggage.  I am tired of being accused of never listening to you, when you bombard me with so much speech that I finally have to tune out your voice in order to save my sanity.  I am tired of being made to feel that I should be neither seen nor heard, and only trotted out on an occasion when you need to feel proud of yourselves that you raised a son like me.  I am tired of being asked to move from one room to another because “I don’t belong there”, when in reality I don’t belong anywhere at all according to you, and you only want to displace me that little bit extra to make me feel more insecure.  I am tired of being misunderstood or misdiagnosed, which just proves how little you know me, love me and care about who I truly am rather than the version of who you think I am.  I am tired of being punished for having my own opinion.  I am tired of being made the scapegoat when I dare to disagree with your views which you present as gospel or unshakeable fact.  I am tired of biting my tongue.  I am tired of feeling miserable and worthless.  I am tired of wondering why I am never good enough for you, when I am more than good enough for absolutely everyone else.  I am tired of being made to feel like I am the problem.  I am tired of being on the verge of tears only to never cry.

One day, I will never warn you, but I am going to find somewhere else to live and to be.  I’m already working on it.  Then I will pack my shit, change my number, and vanish. Y0u will never see me or hear from me again.  I deserve to be free, and I finally will be. And I will not miss you.