All you people are so damned right. Amazing.

You know how people always go like "The world is full of bad people, you should watch out or you'll get into trouble."

Well, I'm going to say, wow, you're so damned right! The world is full of bad people. They wake up every morning and the first thing they think about is, I am going to take all your bloody lives because I am miserable and misery loves company. I will bomb you all because I know nothing about sustaining the economy and I'm afraid that if you let me try, you'll find out.

Did I forget to mention that some foreign workers pissed in the void deck again. Damn it. Bad people who my grandparents always used to say kidnap innocent children. Actually it is my neighbour's dog that did it but I'll blame them because its the Singaporean thing to do.

There are also the people who go "Well there are good people in the world too."

I'm going to say the same thing again. You're so damned right! When you least expect it, that punk on the MRT with the mp3 player plugged into his ears pretending to sleep will give up his seat to you. Even if its only because he's reached his stop. Hey, a seat is a seat, and its equally valuable to anybody if given regardless of intent.

Basically, I feel people believe what they want to believe about the world. The world is too many things, and each person sees what they want to see. The cynics are unable to face reality, the optimists choose the version of reality most palatable to them, and the realists are too busy getting on with life to give a shit.

And really, everyone just wants to know that they are right. When you make people think they're smart, they think you're smart too, and everyone walks off with a smug grin on their faces thinking yes I'm smarter than that guy I just talked to.

So, what are you waiting for? Starting from today, go tell everyone "You're so damned right!"

Gosh I've forgotten what makes me feel alive.

Sitting in a chair playing games and watching shows all day does not a life make. It makes one feel lazy, uninspired, and worst of all, the days start to pass a little too fast, and they all don't look any different from one another.

I just knew I had to stop when my mom asked me whether I'd be having dinner at home tomorrow and I was like "Is it Tuesday tomorrow? Or Wednesday?"

"It's Saturday."

Oh my farking crudmegeons its Saturday again? Wasn't it just Saturday yesterday? That was when I realised that I'd better get some semblance of order back into my life. In the last two weeks I've been a great conqueror of virtual armies and I have experienced the lives of many different people around the world through various reality shows and dramas, trying to escape the dystopian drudgery that is my life. But as it is with any dream, the waking up's the hardest part.

So it all started with a run. It started pretty well, but 1km into it I was starting to see stars and feel faint. I actually started feeling angry with myself because I'm just 20ish and only wusses that age run 1km and feel like dying. But I pressed on, largely because I had run 1km into nowhere and even if I wanted to quit now, I had 1km to go.

At the end of that run, I felt brilliant because I just made myself do something so unpleasant. After 2 straight weeks of not being able to get up before noon, just doing that gave me immense pride.

So it continued the next day. Despite the pain and everything, nothing makes you feel better than a run sometimes. And now I'm actually addicted to it. Everyday I feel the itch to run, although I know I will hate myself for it till the very last step.

Like a normal human being, I feel the dread before every run, knowing I will not enjoy it, but yet I have to do it because some weird force from within compels me to run so I can purge all the last remnants of my sloth and laziness.

Okay, actually I'm just bullshitting. My IPPT's next month. That weird force is actually the fear of remedial trainings.

Bombay gets bombed.

Sometimes, the manner in which you die defines your life as a human being. The Mumbai bombings a few days back showed how. There was a Singaporean victim, but the real tragedy isn't just the fact that she died in the bombing. The real tragedy is the fact that her death has come to symbolise everything she never wanted it to be.

I'm sure nobody wants to be stuck with the tag of "Singapore's first terror victim". What's the problem with that? Well, nothing. I guess it's only the fact that everything you were before, a promising lawyer, a people person, becomes overshadowed by the manner by which you died. You become the property of the nation, free for the government to use whenever they need an example in a social studies textbook, about how Singapore has been affected by crazy extremists with a penchant for dried fruit and tossing pineapples.

But in a morbid sense, she is lucky. She's not one of the many Indians who died in the disaster, so numerous in number they become a statistic. While she gets full length reports devoted to her in the paper, the hundred or so Indians who died together have to be satisfied with paragraphs in the same report mentioning how hundreds of locals were also killed in the attack. It's so unfair its funny.

These numerous indians died in a most appaling way. They died faceless, nameless, and in most cases, already forgotten to the world, what they stood for, what they did, who they were. They are special only to their families, who were the very same people robbed of them. It's almost as though Indians are destined to become a statistic when killed, because when something happens, chances are they are one of the hundreds or thousands who were affected. Its the old newsroom joke. When 5 people die in India, its not news. Call back when its 500. And even then, I can only spare you a small column beside the ad for cereal and bar soap.

In my honest opinion, this bombing only gets so much attention because Mumbai isn't a place normally associated with terrorism. In the Middle East where so many die everyday from suicide bombings and the like, well, who really cares. In fact, I'll even sell you weapons so you can go on killing yourselves. It's a win-win situation. I have weapons, you have oil money, there are many infidels to kill, and you won't eat my pork.

The day no one in the Middle East dies from some violent cause or another is the day China's food is clean, and the day I strike lottery. Wait, let me correct that. I will probably strike lottery first. Then the Middle East conflict will end when the place runs out of oil. When they no longer have oil money, they will grow some brains.

As for food, it's just better to pay more to make sure what you eat isn't from China. I've a hunch they're tainting food as a means of population control, just that they will never admit it.