Book Bug

For reasons unclear, the Boss decided to give the Workers workers an off day on Friday (and Saturday), so I started on J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye, a classic published in 1951 that has courted a fair amount of controversy for "offensive language, premarital sex, alcohol abuse, and prostitution". Of course, I wasn't aware of such labels at the time, and post-enlightenment, I don't agree to calling it all that, because... well, times have changed. (Seriously, read it and see my point.)

What I found interesting though, is a bit of related trivia: (i) Mark David Chapman, the assassin of John Lennon, was carrying the book when he was arrested immediately after the murder, and referred to it in his police statement; (ii) John Hinckley, Jr., who attempted to assassinate President Ronald Reagan in 1981, was also reported to have been obsessed with the book.

Ooh, watch out people. I may just turn homicidal.

A day or two before starting on that, I'd just disposed of Yann Martel's Life of Pi, a novel that has won the Man Booker prize. Wassat? Oh, just another literary award. The first problem with book awards is that they almost certainly make me want to buy the damn book. (Note to self: There may be minors reading this. Move along pipsqueaks, you don't belong here!) The second problem is that if a book has won an award, it usually raises my expectations of it, which is fair, surely—otherwise why give it an award? However, this robs a person like me from enjoying a book for what it really is, which seemed to be the case with Life of Pi. Unless:

(i) all the brilliant bits that bowled the judges over were butchered out from my copy;
(ii) I am a daft reader (possible);
(iii) I've read millions of better books in my life (impossible—I don't even know if I've read a thousand books, period);
(iv) all the other books vying for the award that year were crap.

Despite my apparent grouses though, Life of Pi ain't bad. It's a light read and the zoology aspect is pretty interesting (Pi Patel, an Indian zookeeper's son, gets stuck aboard a lifeboat for 221 days with Richard Parker, a Bengal tiger). And... I just realised: the protagonist is sixteen years old, which is the SAME AGE as the protagonist in Catcher during the period the novel talks about. What a meaningless coincidence!

This concludes the reading of three novels in just over a month. I feel so productive. (The Time Traveler's Wife wins my vote.)

2 B R 0 2 B by Kurt Vonnegut

My research into corporations and blogging for an upcoming article led to a wild romp round the Web for the past--OMG--six hours. In that time, I have discovered several interesting blogs, checked out this blog's stats on Technorati (where it's miserably ranked at 2,130,500 with an authority rating of 2), understood 1% more about Web 2.0, and discovered Project Gutenberg. (Oh, and of course, gathered some intelligence for the article.) Despite the vast amounts of time I spend reading stuff online, do not be deceived: I am not a fan of reading stuff online. But since the latter site offers e-books for free, hey, here's the top download at Project Gutenberg, 2 B R 0 2 B by Kurt Vonnegut. It's not a bad read at all (unless you abhor Times New Roman or Courier) and is a more wholesome option than looking at porn.

Planets, to Scale

Remember that chart in school, with the nine planets in our solar system drawn on it like one happy family? Well, that's a big bullish lie.

On Friday, I read the second chapter of Bill Bryson's A Short History of Nearly Everything while lunching at the Departure Lounge. It was a drone of words compared to the first, but an illustration of how big the universe we live in stood out, which went something like:

"If Earth were the size of a pea, and you tried to draw the surrounding planets to a rough scale, Jupiter would be 300m away, and Pluto (though it's not a planet anymore) would be 2.5km away, the size of a bacterium."

Now that seems pretty far out to me. Also, I learned that our solar system is only a trillionth of the entire universe. What is out there?

Teabags & Tears

I am sitting with a damp, used teabag lodged between the plastic lens of my spectacles and a shut left eye. The words 'Cane's Green Tea' dangle freely from the upturned bag, rustling in the fan breeze against my static hair. I look like a pirate, a joke, or both. I have just finished reading Audrey Niffenegger's The Time Traveler's Wife, reciprocating its pleasure with my tears. Tomorrow is a work day and this is my feeble attempt to escape social scrutiny.

Staring into the screen, I see stars

I want to elope
with your wayward
words
your yellowed skin
fingered
frantic
found


feverish
in intent
of emancipating me
from cubicle hell

Why God Likes Some People

Let me first state that whatever follows is theoretical, not theological. A mere hypothesis based on personal experiences, expounded to a supernatural being called God. It is an observation, a feeling, a thought; nothing that should deserve more than a minute of contemplation. It is not stuff you should teach kids in Sunday School.

After trying hard to find company for lunch and failing (and subsequently chomping down half a slice of chocolate cake in a quiet cafe alone, where I read the first chapter of Bill Bryson's 'A Short History of Nearly Everything'), my initial thoughts suggest that God likes certain people more because they're there for Him when He's bored, or wants company, or wants to talk to someone. (In churchy terms we'd say "when God wants to fellowship with man". See? Not so deviant after all.)

We (or at least I) often forget that we were created because God wanted to fellowship with us. On second thought, let's ban the word 'fellowship'—it's cold, meaningless and archaic. If I remember correctly, God thought it'd be a good idea to create something to share in the beauty of His creation (imagine vast sunrises, sunsets, early mist, dewdrops, fresh air, a moose sticking his moist nuzzle in your hand, etc). And after He created the first humans, He was like, "Whoa! That's wayyy brilliant!"

Of course, even the most bang-up ideas fail once in a while, and for some reason, the human project failed. (Whether God foreknew it'd be a failure and why He chose to go on with the idea is another issue for another post, but I shall just quote the theologically-acceptable answer that of course God knew what would happen cos He's all-knowing, yet He still decided to go on with it because He believed in humans, our potential for love and returning love, His own provision of grace, yadda yadda yadda.) But wait! Back to our original perception that the human project failed. It really depends on how you look at it, and I guess God Himself figured we were not beyond redemption, and thus, it wasn't a 'failure' per se.

(I'm not God; if you want the real answers, go ask Him when you get to heaven.)

Now let me try to come back to my original dissertation: that God likes certain human beings more than others because they take time out of their busy schedules on earth to listen to Him, and treat Him as God, a Supreme Being, the Owner of All This, the Landlord, the Boss, the Father. In my extremely myopic view I have chosen to ignore Him for the past few weeks and months especially; tried to blind myself to any image of God. Why? Because sometimes I'd like some time out to try and figure things out on my own; to discover; to space out. Does that mean God has liked me less these past few weeks? "No lah, stop crapping! God loves everyone!" is what some good Christian brothers and sisters may say. Hey, I know that. I'm just saying, I wouldn't be at all surprised if God liked some people more for the reason that they treat Him like a proper friend. And especially, when it's inconvenient.