For those who don’t read Chinese, the headlines say: Prostitute hit on man, man said too ugly, prostitutes hit man.
Yep, make no mistake, that’s the headlines on one of our top tier media here in the sunny and smoking island of Singapore.
My grandfather passed away on 1st May 2013. It was a shock to everyone who knew him. For an old man in his late seventies, it was clear to everyone, he was really healthy and active. He got sick a month or so before his death and he never recovered from it.
Auto-immunity disorder, they said, and his immunity system was failing. It did not seem that bad initially. The nightmare truly started in the last week of it all. There was a host of other problems popping up; they were all problems that he never had before. The vessels connecting to his heart were congested. His lungs were failing. His kidneys stopped working. He could not stop bleeding. He had fallen into a coma. We were pretty much watching him die without being able to do anything to help.
The helplessness? No fun. He was dying, bit by bit, and there was nothing that any of us could do. There was a lot of hand-wringing, sniffling and begging. All of them futile efforts, of course, in the end. We wrung our hands when the doctors were trying to keep his body going. We sniffled when it seemed as if the danger passed. We begged him to be strong, to open his eyes and to not give up, when we thought that he could hear us. It was all futile.
Maybe it was for the best, in the end, because it ended his suffering. My grandfather was a very practical man and had denounced the idiocy of trying to hang onto life too hard. You will know when you’ve lived enough, he had said before, there is no point in living for too long. It was one thing to listen to him declare it so but another to actually do it though.
It hurt to let go. There is a lot of regret about all the things that we’ve not said and done enough. Yet, at the end of the day, it isn’t really about us, is it? Everything is about him no matter how you try to make it all about yourself.
Rest in peace, 爷爷. For what it’s worth, I love you.
Touchy subject, isn’t it?
I love touchy subjects. I especially love it when I bring up subjects that strike a nerve in those that I don’t like. I am all for fair play, if you want to hurt me, it’s only fair that I can do the same to you. I love it when they visibly bristle at an innocuous topic – like looks, because even they know that it’s horribly petty to be so eaten up by jealousy and yet they can’t help being petty.
But I digress.
Homophobia is almost a dirty word. How would you define it? Dictionary.com says it’s an unreasoning fear of or antipathy toward homosexuals and homosexuality. I prefer the wiki definition though: Homophobia encompasses a range of negative attitudes and feelings toward homosexuality or people who are identified or perceived as being lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender (LGBT). It can be expressed as antipathy, contempt, prejudice, aversion, or hatred, and may be based on irrational fear.
In my humble opinion, the degree can vary but as long as there is something negative, be it the attitude, opinion or action, it can and should be classified as homophobia. A while ago, someone I knew insisted that she could not find any gay guy hot. That’s fine, except that she also said that she would stop finding a hot guy hot if he turned out to be gay.
I’d say that hotness and sexuality have nothing to do with each other. I’m not that insecure in my sexuality that I can’t find a girl hot and I don’t think it’s right that someone is judged based on their sexuality. While many people are too scared of consequences to be overtly homophobic, because while they mortally offended, they value their own skin a little more than their beliefs, there are still too many people who are quietly homophobic. Case in point, the person I mentioned above.
Little things hurt. Words hurt. When I sit there with nowhere else to run, trying to ignore the poison spewing from her mouth, I can’t help but feel bad for the person she was bullying with her words.
“I can’t find him hot if he’s gay,” she said.
“He probably took it up the ass to get this job,” she said
They hurt and they hurt a lot. It isn’t fair to have to get used to slurs either so don’t tell me that people ought to ignore such bullying.
So stupidity has levelled up into more stupidity. What am I talking about, you may ask, considering that this statement is sadly applicable to many, many, many things. Well, I am referring to the recent announcement on new Internet restrictions here in the lovely
prison island of Singapore.
Don’t get me wrong. I still love my country. It’s the place I was born and raised in for 26 whole years after all. This, however, is just…
wrong STUPID. The annoyance is like how I usually feel when my mum just wouldn’t understand that I hate girly colours and continue buying things for me in those colours. (I’m pretty sure it is easier to buy a black wallet than a purple one, right?) I love the mother to bits but she does have her moments where all I want to do was to pull out my hair at what she did.
Back to this new level of stupidity though, obviously people are getting upset over it, and it seems like local bloggers are getting upset. I would be too, if my livelihood depends on the Internet, my opinion (antagonistic and otherwise) and the government not giving any fucks about what I write about behind a veil of anonymity. Luckily, or is it unluckily, my opinion isn’t that interesting that people are paying money to write about them and the latest in our beloved government’s rapidly-growing list of screw-ups will not affect me much.
On a lighter note, the pre-caffeinated me was reading the news and misunderstood the whole 50,000 unique views per month part about the legislation, and I went ‘OMG, if this is going to become applicable to bloggers too, how am I going to chalk up 50,000 unique views to keep this blog?! DO I NEED TO POST NAKED PHOTOS OF MYSELF TO KEEP THIS BLOG RUNNING???’
Alright, I’ll admit that was a horribly bimbotic moment that I had there. I blame the lack of caffeine. *hangs head* And no, I will not post naked or even half-naked photos of myself.