the life of an overly polite individual

I read about an article stating about Singaporeans being extremely ungracious and not thinking about others, but states that they are overly polite. So I will now write about the life of an overly polite person.

The life of an overly polite person

At four he threw all his various, expensive toys down, telling his mother not to buy them anymore and waste money.

At eight, he threw the food his mother made onto the floor, trying to remind everyone that his mother's cooking indeed was bad.

At twelve he copied away at his friends test script, knowing this way he would pull up the class average.

At sixteen he vandalised walls, knowing he would beautify the environment with his unique designs.

At twenty, he became a bookie, fulfiling peoples desire to gamble, and also getting monetary benefit, thinking of the best way to generate a win-win situation.

At twenty four, he reminded people they could stand by refusing to get off the bus seat.

At twenty eight, he gave employment to some aunties and uncles by littering and not clearing his table.

At thirty two, he turned to gambling himself, wanting to spend the money on his family.

At thirty six, he weaved past lanes in front of others, and encouraged them to give way and help a person before himself.

At forty, he jammed the breaks in front of the ERP just to put in his cashcard, saving the police time by not breaking the law.

At forty four, he kicked cats and poured boiling water on dogs when he lost money in gambling. How considerate that he did not take it out on humans instead.

At forty eight, he blocked entrances to trains, allowing better human traffic flow out of the other doors. (All the passengers would go out of the other doors so allowing him and the passengers behind him to go in easily)

At fifty two, he cut the 4D queue so that he could use the prize money to bring his family overseas.

At fifty six, he tried to keep the peace at the library by talking as loud as he could so others would look at him and stop talking. What self sacrifice!

At sixty, he slept on benches in the park or sofas in the library, giving a subtle reminder not to while away time and waste it.

At sixty four, he went to shopping centers without bathing , giving the impression that he was supporting a saving water campaign by PUB.

At sixty eight, he jaywalked across the road and got hit by a car, even when he bothered to make the drivers more cautious and therefore the roads more safe. He did not make it past seventy.

It was clearly understood that such a man would surely be reserved a spot in heaven, for all the good deed he had done.

Tom Robinson's Trial song

Going to try. If this is not successful I'm going to do the article. The league of nations from history song inspired this. It is also from ABBA mamamia.

In "to kill a mockingbird" the Ewells made a claim
Their daughter was "raped" and a black man should take the blame
Tom Robinson, seemed to be the culprit
Few in town, wanted to doubt that
very statement,
It was because of racism.

Atticus was sent to defend this man
He wanted a fair judgement to be dispensed wo-o-oh

Tom Robinson, he was wrongly blamed
My My the result would probably be the same.
Tom Robinson was in a plight
Atticus hoped the truth would be brought to light
The blacks were lower (social status) than the ewells
like they were to be damned in hell.
Sadly the trial did not go his way

When the trial came it was a time of lots of tension
Atticus took the witnesses and the victim to mention
Where were all of her injuries
What hand bob wrote with,
and all about mayella life
Atticus had a solid defence

When Tom was questioned he made an error
He felt sorry for a white superior wo-o-oh

Tom Robinson, was a mockingbird
Unable to give anything but goodness
Tom robinson, trapped by his own humanity
How he wished that there would be equality
Sadly the jury was unfair
with evidence they still didnt care,
They still pronounced him guilty

The mockingbird's habitat

Without all the scientific stuff, let me launch myself into an explanation about the mockingbird's habitat.



Mockingbirds are small birds that have this strange (maybe not for birds) habit of mimicking sounds from other birds or insects. They chirp loudly and often continue for a very long time. They do not come together, they are territorial birds It is that small, and fluffed up, they seem... cute. During their mating season, male mockingbirds in order to attract females sing night and day. Mockingbirds do not give anything but goodness? Thats wrong. They peck at anything that comes near. How is that goodness. Thats aggressiveness.



Moving on, mockingbirds according to this website lives in open country with thickets, farmland and desert brush. Or bushes or trees. This is specifically to the northern mockingbird, but the northern mockingbird lives almost anywhere within the USA. which means also Alabama, and somehow Maycomb. Maycomb is in alabama which has a lot of rain throughout the years and has four seasons. A countryside area would hardly have any skyscrapers at that time, so mockingbirds would come during the summer, which is part of their mating season. They eat ants beetles, grasshoppers, berries and seeds, and during summer the berries and seeds ripen and there are more ants and grasshoppers. Basically, summer in maycomb (Alabama) conincides with the mating season of the Mockingbird, and Maycomb is in the countryside where there are many trees and bushes for the mockingbirds to nest in, and they have plenty of food. No fauna is needed to attract mockingbirds. They are not attracted to sweet smeeling flowers, and all they need is a random tree to nest in.

thinking night

thinking night = stay up heheh



now a weird topic, thinking about myself.
( It may be a little rambly, but note that these thoughts just pour out of my mind)

To me, thinking about myself and my actions is like watching a movie about my actions, without the popcorn and the comfy seat. Like right now, example, am I really typing a blog post in the middle of the nighthe, am I just seemingly putting in my version of whatever i am doing right now? Am I really there? This is further emphasized by sudden events that may cause grief or extreme happiness. I may not just realise I am there, doing whatever I do, and then do something recklessly, thinking it is all unreal. When some really bad things happen and I hide in my bed, I really wonder if I am in this world or not, and I star t to space out. Could I really be in some theater watching my own life story? No wonder why people need reality to sink in, like some people who win millions in a lottery (wish i were that lucky) or others who lose 5 of their family members in a freak accident (ouch) Sometimes I even wonder if I am really living, and experiencing the fun of being alive and such, and experiencing boring events (like the event that we are forced to go to five times a week -- just kidding) But thinking about myself allows me to reflect, and not wonder if im in a movie everytime. So thinking about myself is in essence me in a stand up theater watching through the character eyes a movie and thinking, should he be doing that and such. What a weird post. Brr

About Jia Chin's blog

Ever noticed that Jia Chin writes regularly about death and such? Ill try to do a post about that topic right now.

The old man hated life more than ever. When was it? When did he actually have silence? When was he able to reflect and recount on his past experiences? When was he ever alone? He thought of a plain meadow, wind, sunshine and above all , silence. He would be happy there. He dreamed of the scenery, the perfectness of it all. However, every few seconds, a loud horn, a sudden shout, a police car wailing, all these would snap him out of his own universe. That was it. After 10 years of slowly detioriating health and state of mind and tolerating such noises, he decided to make a choice. Silence. That was all he wanted. Total Silence. After 10 horrible years of hearing the ugliness of the human toungue, every shout, every argument, every insult as an act of viciousness, he had enough. His heartbeat became more rapid. I would end all the suffering. His already frail body was shaking. Silence. That was all he wanted. Total Silence. He was already dying. Somehow, he mustered the strength to sit up and look at the photo of him at a farm in Austrailia. It was so carefree, so silent. He was happy. Then, something in his heart broke. He flopped back onto the bed. He saw a glimpse of how happy he would be in the farm, in the meadow with peace and quiet. There was a instinctive struggle for life. He had... to .. go there one more... time...to experience the feeling again...
The old man died happy, in his bed in his apartment. Silence. That was all he wanted. Total Silence. That day, he grasped it in his hand. The old man hated life more than ever. Now, he had total silence.