I swear that I'm not that moody a person, and that each time I choose to update this by writing an article or two, it's only because I have something nasty to get out of my mind so that it can recover. Oh, and I swear that being half-deaf is the most annoying thing that one can feel.
And why is it that I'm now half-deaf? All thanks to the middle ear infection that I have had to deal with over the last week or so. It is pretty annoying, to say the least, having to deal with an infection that is invisible yet always makes its presence known through the general bunged-upness of the ear. And in my ``good'' ear too---there is no justice in the world, it seems. Anyway, yes, I've been dealing with the infection over the last week, drifting in and out of consciousness from the higher fevers that I had to deal with, and dealing with the ridiculous amount of foul-smelling and foul-tasting phlegm and mucus, the latter of which I learnt only a few days ago when I started to feel a bit better and found that my taste buds were no longer numbed up.
Damn thing was a sickly green goo that tasted most foul. Could have sworn it was the pus from the middle ear that was forcefully drained by me via the Eustachian tube---it was in a ridiculous amount of quantity too. Very vile experience that I hope never to repeat.
Well today is almost a week after I first started on the course of antibiotics, and I feel mostly fine. The fever had broke a couple of days back, the cough is much reduced, and the ridiculously foul-smelling/tasting discharge is also reduced. But there is still this damn tinnitus in my ear that is driving me crazy and that whole bunged up feeling still hasn't gone away completely.
A worthy question to ask is why do I even have this lousy infection in the first place? There is only one answer to this: a weakened constitution due to stress.
Stress. Stress is the cause of my downfall.
Sometimes I hate myself, hate myself for being so... strongly work-minded. Always thinking about how to do more in a better/efficient/cost-saving manner. Always pushing myself more and more, convincing myself that there is always work to be done, and that I should be a conscientious worker who is mindful of his overall productivity. And that's why I even returned to work on some projects even when I was on leave the last time, simply because they were not worked on often enough due to the sorry fact that I've been committed almost 140% of my work week's time.
And thanks to that, I fell ill. Twice. It's just that this time, it's a fairly serious one that will probably have long-term ramifications that I need to take care of.
Thankfully, this week I am on leave. Final-fucking-ly, I might add, though it probably came about two weeks too late---had I taken a break two weeks earlier, I'd probably not be so stressed to the point that an infection would break out and take me out for a week. But we all have perfect hindsight, and this is no exception.
One thing's for certain though, I'm not going to give a rat's ass about work for this whole week I'm on leave. I think I deserve at least this privilege considering everything that is said and done. Time to make sure that the ``leave'' I take is put to good use in recharging my batteries so that I don't go down like a house of cards in a gale. Everyone will thank me for that, I'm sure.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Thinking While Procrastinating
So, instead of working on my slides for a presentation that is due some time in the morning of tomorrow, I find myself thinking about really random things as I try to focus my thoughts on the order of presentation that I am striving to attain. And among all the random things that come to mind from being part sleep-deprived and part sick is this simple question: why am I always attracted to the ``weird'' girls, and not those that are, you know, more ``normal'' within the Singapore context?
It has been a suspicion of mine that I am somewhat gender blind, in the sense that I don't really seem to have an obsessive attraction to ``girly-girls'', or females who demonstrate typical ``female'' behaviour. While I know that I am attracted to the female aesthetic (i.e. the ``looks like female'' criterion), it is not always the case that I am attracted to a personality that seems to evoke the kinds of typical macho emotions. Put in a more simple way, I seem to have an attraction to females who look female, but have a personality that is on the strong side, to the point sometimes that if one were to transplant that personality into a male body, the resulting mix can be easily identified as a true blue male.
This observation is of course based on the fragmented reflections that I have been having with regards to this particular aspect of my life. The sad truth about this type of attraction is this, such females are usually fiercely independent and are thus less likely to be involved in a relationship. So unless I can find a female who is ``fiercely independent yet doesn't mind the company'' or if I can alter the kinds of taste I have, getting settled down with that special someone is just not going to happen.
It has been a suspicion of mine that I am somewhat gender blind, in the sense that I don't really seem to have an obsessive attraction to ``girly-girls'', or females who demonstrate typical ``female'' behaviour. While I know that I am attracted to the female aesthetic (i.e. the ``looks like female'' criterion), it is not always the case that I am attracted to a personality that seems to evoke the kinds of typical macho emotions. Put in a more simple way, I seem to have an attraction to females who look female, but have a personality that is on the strong side, to the point sometimes that if one were to transplant that personality into a male body, the resulting mix can be easily identified as a true blue male.
This observation is of course based on the fragmented reflections that I have been having with regards to this particular aspect of my life. The sad truth about this type of attraction is this, such females are usually fiercely independent and are thus less likely to be involved in a relationship. So unless I can find a female who is ``fiercely independent yet doesn't mind the company'' or if I can alter the kinds of taste I have, getting settled down with that special someone is just not going to happen.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Killing Me Softly with This Work
Okay, so this is a mostly unplanned entry (not that the other entries are any more planned), but I suppose I just feel like talking random things today.
I think as a whole I'm just getting very very tired about a lot of things. Everything seems to be coming in large droves, and at times, it does feel a little overwhelming, though it hasn't gotten to the point that I feel like crying for help yet. Perhaps I'm stronger than I thought I was, or maybe I'm just too much of a nut case to realise just how much pressure I really am under.
In times of great pressure, I am slowly finding that keeping to myself makes a whole lot of difference to the whole mechanics, partly because there is little time wastage in having to deal with people. With those precious minutes saved in dealing with people, I can actually start to apply the time to myself from a much better position, since I alone can dictate how the time should be spent on what activity, and not have to play ``nice'' and follow the crowd, which, more often than not, display a general lack of discipline with regards to how time is used.
Of course, being alone in most regards does strange things to the mind. You become more paranoid about things that happen around you, and you start to think of things that shouldn't have appeared in your mind at all---some might call this a delusion, and I am not about to debate on that. Delusional or not, I think I'm starting to feel the effects of having worked non-stop for six months.
Six months with hardly a break.
Six months.
To be precise, it is probably longer, since the last time I went on a week's leave, it was spent working on yet another work-related project. No wonder I'm fast going insane and weirder than usual.
*sigh*
Anyway, this time I've decided to get another week off for myself just to unwind and relax. It's just so hard to pick a week among the myriad of weeks to take time off for myself---there's always this meeting here, some deadline there, and everyone wants a bit of you everywhere you look. But I suppose enough is enough, and I probably need the break badly---I can't keep going on like this, or there won't be a me left very soon.
Maybe I will write more next time. For now, I suppose this little expulsion should suffice.
I think as a whole I'm just getting very very tired about a lot of things. Everything seems to be coming in large droves, and at times, it does feel a little overwhelming, though it hasn't gotten to the point that I feel like crying for help yet. Perhaps I'm stronger than I thought I was, or maybe I'm just too much of a nut case to realise just how much pressure I really am under.
In times of great pressure, I am slowly finding that keeping to myself makes a whole lot of difference to the whole mechanics, partly because there is little time wastage in having to deal with people. With those precious minutes saved in dealing with people, I can actually start to apply the time to myself from a much better position, since I alone can dictate how the time should be spent on what activity, and not have to play ``nice'' and follow the crowd, which, more often than not, display a general lack of discipline with regards to how time is used.
Of course, being alone in most regards does strange things to the mind. You become more paranoid about things that happen around you, and you start to think of things that shouldn't have appeared in your mind at all---some might call this a delusion, and I am not about to debate on that. Delusional or not, I think I'm starting to feel the effects of having worked non-stop for six months.
Six months with hardly a break.
Six months.
To be precise, it is probably longer, since the last time I went on a week's leave, it was spent working on yet another work-related project. No wonder I'm fast going insane and weirder than usual.
*sigh*
Anyway, this time I've decided to get another week off for myself just to unwind and relax. It's just so hard to pick a week among the myriad of weeks to take time off for myself---there's always this meeting here, some deadline there, and everyone wants a bit of you everywhere you look. But I suppose enough is enough, and I probably need the break badly---I can't keep going on like this, or there won't be a me left very soon.
Maybe I will write more next time. For now, I suppose this little expulsion should suffice.
Neverwinter Nights 2 Texture Bug
To work around the bug where all you can see are shadows and the ``sky'' in Neverwinter Nights 2, use ` to get to the console, and then type the following:
debugmode 1This will switch off the sky box rendering and allow the normal textures to show. Don't worry, you don't really miss much by removing the sky box.
sky 0
debugmode 0
Late Night Musing
So today as I sat in front of Eileen, my new portable gaming rig, a thought came to mind---just what was it that drives people to do the crazy things that they do ever so often, and more importantly, why they sometimes end up turning away from the very thing that gave them the biggest pleasure in the first place to work on something that is, comparatively speaking, more mundane?
Of course, this thought came about through a few triggers. The biggest one was the story of Annabel Chong, which, if you haven't known by now, is about the infamous Singapore pornographic arts actress who did a massive gang bang film back in the day. She has since returned to a more mundane existence, stating for the record that ``Annabel Chong is dead, and in her place is the evil doppelganger''. But of course, sensational as this story is, there are more mundane stories that I have of the people around me that fall in roughly the same category of people who went through a massively crazy period before falling back into a mundane existence.
I suppose there are a few ways of looking at this phenomenon. One way that I found to be rather interesting is the perspective that everything that we do has a certain notion of a ``finite limit''---meaning there is only a finite amount of energies that we can devote to a certain task, and once this energy is gone, it will never return. In some senses, this is a rather accurate if unscientific way of thinking about things. It actually is an idea that is loosely paraphrased from an Aikido practitioner's saying of ``we only have a limited number of breakfalls that we can do in our life-time, so we should make good use of it''. But to the main point: we can sustain only a finite amount of interest in something, before the brain gets bored with the enterprise and moves on to something else. This means that for any activity that we may do that is not theoretically essential (like breathing, sleeping or eating for instance), we can only sustain a finite amount of interest and corresponding energy into the matter before we start to lose complete interest in it in the manner of a ``burn-out''.
Empirically speaking, it does seem like a sound perception---do too many of the things you like and it will end up being something that you hate. The question then is not whether this principle is correct in practice (we are taking it so a priori), but whether we can work around the principle to achieve an effect that appears to contradict the given notion.
Let me provide an example to illustrate this point. Suppose I am learning a new skill, say driving. Without loss of generality, we will assume that, based on the above-mentioned principle, I will have n hours of interest in driving for the entirety of my lifetime. These n hours are taken to be absolute---they assume that if I did nothing but drive, I would spend only n hours of them on driving in this life-time. There are two rather extreme ways of seeing this: I can choose to drive only a few hours in a week and end up stretching the perception of time to about n divided by the number of hours per week to claim an interest counted in weeks, or I can just keep driving during the 16+ hours that I am awake and claim differently. Both methods consume all the n hours eventually, but which is the better allocation of time?
To most people, it would actually make more sense to ``spread out'' the time, partly due to the fact that it is likely to be impossible to be working on the skill/activity non-stop, but partly because the activity needs to be stopped intermittently just to maintain some level of interest for the practitioner. Back to the Annabel story quoted above---why did she quit her glamorous job of being a pornographic actress to go into web development? Maybe she got sick of all the sex---one tends to have more intercourse when one is a pornographic actress I suppose, or maybe she is just sick of all the attention (for some loose definition of ``amount of attention one wants in a life time''). Either way, it got her thinking and snapping out of the crazy zone and moving on to something more mundane.
When I saw that story, I got really concerned, because I can see myself ending up like her, and no, I don't mean ending up as a gang-bang porn star. What I mean is that I can see myself ending up in the crazy zone doing really apeshit crazy stuff, and then suddenly quitting it all to do something more mundane. Actually, among many of my friends both past and present, it would appear that they are in a similar danger themselves of getting stuck accidentally in the crazy zone. Now, the problem is not the getting stuck in the crazy zone part (you're too crazy to realise it, but woe to those around you), but that the eventual ``crash'' out of the crazy zone will mean that you will never go back to that activity again. I can see how Annabel might have some distaste with her ``crazy zone'' life---that explains why she decided to kill off that personality. And in the case of my own circumstances, I can see myself foregoing research completely should I end up being in the crazy zone for research. That is one thing that I hope never to do, simply because I cannot just live with the mundane---it bores my mind to death and I end up vegetating and becoming exactly like the kinds of ignorant people that I have sworn that I will never be.
And that's why I try to maintain a healthy list of activities to keep me occupied. Previously, I call these activities the different ``facets'' of myself, but now I think they are merely activities that I, the central Ego, choose to do on my own time. There is a sense of consolidation of my fragmented psyche (a product over the last half a decade, I might add), with the general understanding that I need to keep all the activities sufficiently interesting so that I can keep things moving on well into old age and eventually towards my death.
It is not true that if one does not dedicate 100% of one's waking hours to the task that one is not passionate enough---there is a difference between passion and sustainable passion. Basing on the principle stated above, raw passion is like falling very deeply in love with someone, kissing/hugging/holding hands and doing all kinds of lovey dovey stuff in every possible mushy way---sure it's fun and invigorating, but what happens when one runs out of ideas on how to impress? Is it still love/passion? Sustainable passion, it seems, is something that comes in controlled waves---the fire is there, but it is not a bright explosion in the sky but the soft burning embers of a kindling flame, slowly but surely consuming both fuel and oxygen. A sustainable reaction may take longer on the get go, but it will definitely outlast anything that starts quickly and without foundation.
And that of course, brings us back to the sore topic that seems to plague me ever since I started writing in a semi-public manner---relationships, or specifically, romantic relationships. So the last part in the saga saw me getting pretty hurt from quite a few angles, and then deciding that I wasn't really ready for a relationship now, even though I seemed to be more ``experienced'' having gone through a couple of iterations or so. In a way, that position still holds, but based on the observations that I'm having, I am actually swinging further outfield on the whole let's-not-even-get-involved camp. You see, there is really little reason to be involved in a relationship that leads to marriage. I don't mind the companionship and all the other perks from a relationship, but marriage as a concept is something that is starting to make less and less sense the more we proceed through the social advancement.
I believe that I have argued about the purpose of marriage in another entry, but I am too lazy to look for it. I shall restate the argument here again: marriage is about the strategic union of economic or political powers---there is really little else to the matter. And since everyone is more or less more independent now than before, we find that the dependence factor that is prevalent in marriage is getting eroded away. The proof of this direction of change can be seen in the rising divorce rates in all the countries that have divorce as a legal cop-out from a ``failed'' marriage---if marriage were really something desirable, why then are the divorce rates on the rise? Are the married people learning something that they didn't know when they were still single?
Anyway, it is already getting late here as I write this entry, and given that I'm running some horrid cold from being up too late over a few nights, I think it is best if I retired to bed for now. But before I go, I leave behind this question for pondering:
Must the bulk of a country's population growth come from procreation of the ``natural citizens'' or should a country be thankful of population growth from any source?
Of course, this thought came about through a few triggers. The biggest one was the story of Annabel Chong, which, if you haven't known by now, is about the infamous Singapore pornographic arts actress who did a massive gang bang film back in the day. She has since returned to a more mundane existence, stating for the record that ``Annabel Chong is dead, and in her place is the evil doppelganger''. But of course, sensational as this story is, there are more mundane stories that I have of the people around me that fall in roughly the same category of people who went through a massively crazy period before falling back into a mundane existence.
I suppose there are a few ways of looking at this phenomenon. One way that I found to be rather interesting is the perspective that everything that we do has a certain notion of a ``finite limit''---meaning there is only a finite amount of energies that we can devote to a certain task, and once this energy is gone, it will never return. In some senses, this is a rather accurate if unscientific way of thinking about things. It actually is an idea that is loosely paraphrased from an Aikido practitioner's saying of ``we only have a limited number of breakfalls that we can do in our life-time, so we should make good use of it''. But to the main point: we can sustain only a finite amount of interest in something, before the brain gets bored with the enterprise and moves on to something else. This means that for any activity that we may do that is not theoretically essential (like breathing, sleeping or eating for instance), we can only sustain a finite amount of interest and corresponding energy into the matter before we start to lose complete interest in it in the manner of a ``burn-out''.
Empirically speaking, it does seem like a sound perception---do too many of the things you like and it will end up being something that you hate. The question then is not whether this principle is correct in practice (we are taking it so a priori), but whether we can work around the principle to achieve an effect that appears to contradict the given notion.
Let me provide an example to illustrate this point. Suppose I am learning a new skill, say driving. Without loss of generality, we will assume that, based on the above-mentioned principle, I will have n hours of interest in driving for the entirety of my lifetime. These n hours are taken to be absolute---they assume that if I did nothing but drive, I would spend only n hours of them on driving in this life-time. There are two rather extreme ways of seeing this: I can choose to drive only a few hours in a week and end up stretching the perception of time to about n divided by the number of hours per week to claim an interest counted in weeks, or I can just keep driving during the 16+ hours that I am awake and claim differently. Both methods consume all the n hours eventually, but which is the better allocation of time?
To most people, it would actually make more sense to ``spread out'' the time, partly due to the fact that it is likely to be impossible to be working on the skill/activity non-stop, but partly because the activity needs to be stopped intermittently just to maintain some level of interest for the practitioner. Back to the Annabel story quoted above---why did she quit her glamorous job of being a pornographic actress to go into web development? Maybe she got sick of all the sex---one tends to have more intercourse when one is a pornographic actress I suppose, or maybe she is just sick of all the attention (for some loose definition of ``amount of attention one wants in a life time''). Either way, it got her thinking and snapping out of the crazy zone and moving on to something more mundane.
When I saw that story, I got really concerned, because I can see myself ending up like her, and no, I don't mean ending up as a gang-bang porn star. What I mean is that I can see myself ending up in the crazy zone doing really apeshit crazy stuff, and then suddenly quitting it all to do something more mundane. Actually, among many of my friends both past and present, it would appear that they are in a similar danger themselves of getting stuck accidentally in the crazy zone. Now, the problem is not the getting stuck in the crazy zone part (you're too crazy to realise it, but woe to those around you), but that the eventual ``crash'' out of the crazy zone will mean that you will never go back to that activity again. I can see how Annabel might have some distaste with her ``crazy zone'' life---that explains why she decided to kill off that personality. And in the case of my own circumstances, I can see myself foregoing research completely should I end up being in the crazy zone for research. That is one thing that I hope never to do, simply because I cannot just live with the mundane---it bores my mind to death and I end up vegetating and becoming exactly like the kinds of ignorant people that I have sworn that I will never be.
And that's why I try to maintain a healthy list of activities to keep me occupied. Previously, I call these activities the different ``facets'' of myself, but now I think they are merely activities that I, the central Ego, choose to do on my own time. There is a sense of consolidation of my fragmented psyche (a product over the last half a decade, I might add), with the general understanding that I need to keep all the activities sufficiently interesting so that I can keep things moving on well into old age and eventually towards my death.
It is not true that if one does not dedicate 100% of one's waking hours to the task that one is not passionate enough---there is a difference between passion and sustainable passion. Basing on the principle stated above, raw passion is like falling very deeply in love with someone, kissing/hugging/holding hands and doing all kinds of lovey dovey stuff in every possible mushy way---sure it's fun and invigorating, but what happens when one runs out of ideas on how to impress? Is it still love/passion? Sustainable passion, it seems, is something that comes in controlled waves---the fire is there, but it is not a bright explosion in the sky but the soft burning embers of a kindling flame, slowly but surely consuming both fuel and oxygen. A sustainable reaction may take longer on the get go, but it will definitely outlast anything that starts quickly and without foundation.
And that of course, brings us back to the sore topic that seems to plague me ever since I started writing in a semi-public manner---relationships, or specifically, romantic relationships. So the last part in the saga saw me getting pretty hurt from quite a few angles, and then deciding that I wasn't really ready for a relationship now, even though I seemed to be more ``experienced'' having gone through a couple of iterations or so. In a way, that position still holds, but based on the observations that I'm having, I am actually swinging further outfield on the whole let's-not-even-get-involved camp. You see, there is really little reason to be involved in a relationship that leads to marriage. I don't mind the companionship and all the other perks from a relationship, but marriage as a concept is something that is starting to make less and less sense the more we proceed through the social advancement.
I believe that I have argued about the purpose of marriage in another entry, but I am too lazy to look for it. I shall restate the argument here again: marriage is about the strategic union of economic or political powers---there is really little else to the matter. And since everyone is more or less more independent now than before, we find that the dependence factor that is prevalent in marriage is getting eroded away. The proof of this direction of change can be seen in the rising divorce rates in all the countries that have divorce as a legal cop-out from a ``failed'' marriage---if marriage were really something desirable, why then are the divorce rates on the rise? Are the married people learning something that they didn't know when they were still single?
Anyway, it is already getting late here as I write this entry, and given that I'm running some horrid cold from being up too late over a few nights, I think it is best if I retired to bed for now. But before I go, I leave behind this question for pondering:
Must the bulk of a country's population growth come from procreation of the ``natural citizens'' or should a country be thankful of population growth from any source?
Thursday, March 03, 2011
Silence of the Laptop
You know it is wonky when I start to write in such a hurried manner at this time of the night on a week day evening.
``Drained'' probably doesn't quite start to explain the general affect that I am feeling these days. Over the past two to three weeks, I have started on an isolationist quest of sorts, removing myself steadily away from most of the semi-coerced social interactions. It is quite an interesting experiment, really. In the beginning, there was the entire feeling of discomfort, as though I had removed a large part of where my energies come from. But as time went by, I slowly cultivated that introvertedness within me that has been in hiding for a long while as I acted out the life that I was supposed to be leading, what with the whole extraversion nonsense.
Yet in the last three weeks or so, I've started to comprehend a new form of peace and quiet of the mind, where all I think of are work, geocaching, grad school and Aikido. The old distractions that seemed to plague me from the past seems to be rather subdued internally, and from that springs forth a new resolve that powers the introversion within.
Don't get me wrong, I've not really converted into a completely introverted character---that is just too impossible because I'm not some one dimensional person. What has really happened is that I have finally begun creating that bit of space for myself where I can start to actually calm down and examine cause and effect safe from the prying eyes and minds of the outsiders. While not as strong as the voices in my head before, there is at least a cognizance of what truly lies within my psyche from the perspective of my conscious mind.
It's a hard phenomenon to explain, really, partly because I lack the necessary processes and vocabulary to explain it. But the key aspect of it all is the restful nature that I'm feeling. Yes, I may be working longer hours than before, having reduced the ``lunch hour'' into something that is no longer than twenty minutes, but I seem to feel a little less stressed out, now that I have a little more control over myself.
Once upon a time, I used to not care too much about what others thought. Then I was taught to ``socialise'' and be more aware of the emotions of others. And now, having seen what kind of nonsense I had to put up with using that attitude, I have moderated that to something that is a little more cold than before, yet without a complete alienation of the people---they can still talk to me, but only if it is related to something that is required.
I think I'm finally starting to understand the concept of keeping my mouth shut, and speaking only when necessary.
Holding one's tongue takes discipline, the discipline to realise that there is no need to comment on everything that people say, the discipline to realise that there is no need to share knowledge that is not solicited, the discipline to realise that people are always, by nature, manipulative. But like many things in life, it starts off being hard, and as time progresses, becomes unexpectedly easier. And in this regard, being a weirdo does have its advantages after all.
Till next time.
``Drained'' probably doesn't quite start to explain the general affect that I am feeling these days. Over the past two to three weeks, I have started on an isolationist quest of sorts, removing myself steadily away from most of the semi-coerced social interactions. It is quite an interesting experiment, really. In the beginning, there was the entire feeling of discomfort, as though I had removed a large part of where my energies come from. But as time went by, I slowly cultivated that introvertedness within me that has been in hiding for a long while as I acted out the life that I was supposed to be leading, what with the whole extraversion nonsense.
Yet in the last three weeks or so, I've started to comprehend a new form of peace and quiet of the mind, where all I think of are work, geocaching, grad school and Aikido. The old distractions that seemed to plague me from the past seems to be rather subdued internally, and from that springs forth a new resolve that powers the introversion within.
Don't get me wrong, I've not really converted into a completely introverted character---that is just too impossible because I'm not some one dimensional person. What has really happened is that I have finally begun creating that bit of space for myself where I can start to actually calm down and examine cause and effect safe from the prying eyes and minds of the outsiders. While not as strong as the voices in my head before, there is at least a cognizance of what truly lies within my psyche from the perspective of my conscious mind.
It's a hard phenomenon to explain, really, partly because I lack the necessary processes and vocabulary to explain it. But the key aspect of it all is the restful nature that I'm feeling. Yes, I may be working longer hours than before, having reduced the ``lunch hour'' into something that is no longer than twenty minutes, but I seem to feel a little less stressed out, now that I have a little more control over myself.
Once upon a time, I used to not care too much about what others thought. Then I was taught to ``socialise'' and be more aware of the emotions of others. And now, having seen what kind of nonsense I had to put up with using that attitude, I have moderated that to something that is a little more cold than before, yet without a complete alienation of the people---they can still talk to me, but only if it is related to something that is required.
I think I'm finally starting to understand the concept of keeping my mouth shut, and speaking only when necessary.
Holding one's tongue takes discipline, the discipline to realise that there is no need to comment on everything that people say, the discipline to realise that there is no need to share knowledge that is not solicited, the discipline to realise that people are always, by nature, manipulative. But like many things in life, it starts off being hard, and as time progresses, becomes unexpectedly easier. And in this regard, being a weirdo does have its advantages after all.
Till next time.
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