Should I just listen?

Often, I wonder, if staying silent is the best option when someone is venting frustrations or pouring out sorrows to me. Do they simply need a person who listens, or someone who can comfort them? I would panic inside. What would I say? Most of the time, all I could do to show I empathise is by frowning and making sympathetic noises.

I worry that I would say something insensitive, or superficial, or condescending. Would "I understand how you feel, I've been there, too" be condescending? If someone says that to me, I wouldn't be offended at all; I think I would feel grateful. (Then again, I might shoot the person a "piss off!" look, depending on my mood)

But would another person think that I'm making too many assumptions by thinking that I know exactly what she's going through? Problems are troublesome, but yet people seem to adopt a proprietary attitude towards them. This is my problem here, that person may fume, why is she making this sound like her problem?

But sometimes I just feel like I should say something. "I know you are feeling down, but you're not alone." Is that the best way to comfort someone? I can't tell. That person may just snap, "Sod off, you stupid prig. I want to be left alone!"

In between commotions

I wish I could write the way Lee Ang directs.

I'm not very familiar with his works. After all, I've only seen Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, and Brokeback Mountain. But it seems to me that they're both quiet movies, and I like them.

Looking at his films, you realise that many storytellers are insecure. They grab you by the collar, jabbing their finger at every point that they want you to notice. Nothing is to be missed or overlooked. When everything is significant, nothing is significant.

His storytelling is sparse. There're many pauses in his stories. But that's the way life is. Many things are revealed in pockets of silence, not commotion. Some stories are just meant to be quiet. When you talk so loudly, I cannot hear your story.

Many viewers let their guard down and drop their defences in the face of such plainness, so that when the emotional knock comes, they crumble.

And then, you realise that Lee Ang is a man with immense confidence in what he has to say. Some may think that it is unfair that his work did not win Best Picture, but the Oscars is a Western yardstick. It rewards what the Western world values, and quietness is always undervalued. I'm just glad that people do recognise that he is a good storyteller, that's all.

Tomorrow is made for chillin'

But I meant it when I said that I need some peace and quiet. Which is why I've taken leave for tomorrow. I shall not look at my emails nor chat on MSN messenger. I will not even write in this blog.

I'll wake up early and go get my MacDonald's egg mcmuffin breakfast, and then settle down to watch the Oscars with some coffee. Strange, I think most people's reaction to the documentary Super Size Me would be to avoid MacDonald's for at least a few weeks, but it only served to remind me that I've not eaten it for a few months. But then again, I've always suspected that my brain is wired a little differently. Don't believe me? I think I'm may have mild synaesthesia, a condition when your 5 senses intermingle. You can take a test to find out if you may have the condition or read more about it here.

When I think of certain words (especially names) beginning with certain letters, colours come to my mind. For example, names beginning with B reminds me of yellow. C with pinkish tones. J with light blue. H with either tan or light brown.

But I can't really tell if these are really "synaesthesic" associations or learned associations. For example, I could think of yellow when I think of B names because of the word buttercup.

I thought it was just a quirk of an idle brain with nothing else better to do. But now that they actually have a name for this sort of thing, it's just as well.

Anyway, back to my chillin' plan. Then I do a 4-step self-facial, and practice my violin and sight-reading. And exercise. And rest early for Jazz night tomorrow!

Black list of names

I'm back! I said I needed peace and quiet, but you can never keep me down. To cheer myself up, I'm going to list female names that I would never call myself by:

1) Yolanda -- sounds like (a) a female version of Yoda and (b) a stout, freckled, repressed Swiss farm girl yodelling from some high mountains overgrown with the kind of herbs that goes into Ricola candy

2) Hannah/Mandy/Gina-- sounds like somebody's repressed nanny who has too much milk

3) Pauline -- sounds like sombody's repressed (OK, I'm joking) mum and female version of Paul, which in turns sounds like somebody who has greasy, slicked-back hair, salon tan, and a thick gold chain with unbuttoned shirt to show off hairy chest

4) Mary/Regina/Jane/Shirley/Bridget/Alice/Josephine-- sounds like somebody's eccentric and erm, repressed aunt who smothers you with hugs and pinches your cheek like, well, clothes pegs

5) Emily/Margaret/Joanne--reminds me of those repressed governesses in English novels. Possibly homicidal.

I need some peace and quiet

I've been feeling a bit emotionally unstable over the past 2 weeks because of some painful blows, pain as only those who have the same blood running in their veins as you can inflict.

I believe that my intrinsic value as a human being is the same as yours, neither more nor less. I believe that you do not have the right to make another person feel that he/she is a failure and that his/her life is worthless. I hope I always remember that, especially in times of anger.