Unbranded - 28/8

So my father just handed me an unbranded box, and guess what was inside? An... an iPod?

How much did it cost?

$48.

Nope, it's as unbranded on the inside as on the outside. Features seem pretty lame. The only thing that interests me remotely is the 4GB space, which I can use as a large thumbdrive. Perhaps to keep my playlist and Mikana in cold storage, should my SATA hard disk ever die on me.

So why did my father buy such a piece of trash?

1. He thought it was a good deal. (Maybe, lol)
2. Out of parental obligation
3. He wanted to buy my love

I would be asking these questions even if I had received a real iPod (not that I want one), or something I really wanted (a laptop). I want to be impartial on these things.

Today I had my Lit exam. All was well. There was this question that asked me to identify a character who had been caught up in material pursuits. (Unrelated: While everyone probably took the easy path and picked Paper for their story, I grabbed Elaine from Evening Under Frangipani. More "special kid" marks for me.)

Then it was off to the hall, to watch a concert that had been organized for Teacher's Day. It was compulsory. Probably to make sure that the work that went on behind the scenes was duly appreciated. But why a concert in the first place?

1. Need to appreciate teachers
2. Tradition (touchy touchy)
3. Part of MOE's effort to keep teachers happy and contributing by making them feel appreciated.



Yeah, we do need No.3. I'm an amoral guy. I have no moral problems with this. But although I don't believe in conventional good and evil, I have, like I said before in India, certain preferences.

I just feel disgusted at how appreciation for the men of women of the education system is reduced to a bunch of girls dancing in shorts to pop music. I can't see the link. You're wasting my time with bull shit. Now this is very important: I don't give a shit if the teachers enjoyed it or not. I just think that if I was a teacher, I wouldn't need (or want) to be patronized like this. You appreciate me? Fine. Sure. Appreciate me. Whenever you want.

But don't come to me on Teacher's Day and give me a fucking card because you're obligated to. That' empty. That's bullshit. That's lying.


But what do I know? In practical terms, we probably need a gazillion white lies to keep our infrastructure running. Keep the weak-willed and poorly-motivated knowing that they are doing good. Stuff like that. That's how Stalin did it, that's how big brother does it, and... it's worked out pretty well so far.

And while I'm on a roll, I would like to dedicate this rant to Miss Aza. Yes, I know it is ironic considering what I'm ranting about. But the dedication isn't because of the occasion. It's because its long overdue.

Thanks Miss Aza, for your sincere efforts. I don't think I should be your best student.
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TOFU came up with what he thought was a great idea for the beginning of a play.

A bum is sitting on a bench, idling. A man enters and sits beside the bum.

Then he leans over and asks the bum,

"Hey - do you know the meaning of love?"


At first, yes, cool. But on hindsight, not really.
This does not have the makings of a good play; the makings of a good beginning, maybe, but good play?

I could cite a hundred and one reasons (no I can't) why not, but the one that strikes me now is how, through a play, a facade, a great pretend-show, writers and directors try to convey very real and relevant meanings to their audiences.

We don't die the same person that we were when we were born.


That said, what is the meaning of love? Maybe if I steal enough pics of Mikana at cross-country tomorrow I'll find out.