Friendster Failure

Rougly a year ago, Friendster was the new craze. Everyone had to have an account. Folks were rushing to add as many friends as possible. Old, long lost friends found each other online. People begged, threatened and whined, asking for testimonials. And why not? Friendster was after all, a novel idea. Instead of those networks that promised to knit stranger to stranger, here you were only getting to know people your friends already knew. Now, that couldn't be that bad, could it? I guess many people thought so, and endured the increasingly unbearable lag that plagued the system from day one.

A year later, they claimed to have upgraded their server to help cope with the huge traffic volume. But the point is, is there even moderate traffic there nowadays? People I know log in once a month, if that often, or only when they receive an email notification that someone wanted to add them, or had sent them a message or testimonial. I myself log in only when I get an email from friendster, having, like many other people I know, gotten to know zero new friends from Friendster.

Having had such a promising start, what caused Friendster to be such a huge flop? Besides the possibility that me and my friends are such pure losers we can't get anyone to WANT to know us, despite the flowery testimonials and studio photos and stuff...

Oh sure, I've approached, and been approached by people with genuine intentions to get to know someone with similiar interests. A couple of correspondences which eventually peltered out due to some reason or another and died a natural death, or stopped cold when it came to exchanging contact numbers...'er...talk here cannot meh? msn? email?' ...and eventually died a natural death as well. Or when the person with similiar interests possesses a certain bonus like a pretty face...expect no answers unless you have a similiar bonus.

I've had a narry of explanations on why Friendster didn't work the way it was meant to. Asian culture? More reserved? The fear that every person approaching you is a wolf or desperado in disguise? I mean...look at the way some girls who think they are attractive put down ground rules on how guys should approach them..."DO NOT MSN me...I will ignore you. Make sure your message to me is INTERESTING and not "Hi..i want to know you"..."... Talking as if there are hordes of people wanting to know them...duh. Or maybe...yeah...me and my friends are ugly losers who couldn't get a lay. Or maybe, the bottomline is I don't know what went wrong.

Maybe I should stop speculating and watch as Friendster fades away.

Riding hard, fast, safely AND taking a few corners.

Racy Advertisements.

The old society, concepts, and ancient mindsets are slowly, but surely falling away. Subjects that were considered taboo are now discussed freely over a cup of coffee, encouraged by the enormous influence the media represents, which uses what used to be unspeakable to entice would-be consumers.

Need proof? Pick up that copy of the newspaper from your front door and flip through it. Chances are, you'll come across advertisements exhorting you to call a certain hotline for ridiculous rates, with pictures of pretty, young nubile girls you'd supposedly get to talk to if you'd just only dial that number. But is it really these nymphos you're going to talk to? More likely bored housewives with squeaky voices, trying to fill in the hours of the day. Or filipino maids.

Pay more attention when you walk pass a newstand. You'll notice magazines with gorgeous cover girls, with coverpages screaming "How to have hot steamy sex", or "Top 10 ways to get her off". But are these magazines really the stuff to make you an uber stud and the next sex guru? Chances are, the article consists of 1 or 2 pages, and tells you nothing you don't know.

Flick on the tube, and watch as the man who drinks ABC beer gets all the babes, besides opening a new building, finding a new species frog and other wild stuff. Hey..I drink beer too...but where ARE the babes? *looks around*...

In the recent motor show, I observed more people interested in snapping pictures with the models than with the cars and motorcycles. Dammit...I mean...it's a damn MOTOR show. Not a model's galore. And everywhere I turn, I see more and more advertisements and events that incorporate images that have little or nothing to do with the actual product or subject at hand. I don't get to bonk those cute little nymphos when I call do I? Do I get a free model for each car I purchase? If I get me a barrel of beer and finish it, maybe I'll start dreaming of the babes and other stuff?

Think it's bad? At least I did. Until I stumbled on this article that fully illustrated the total depravity that today's advertising industry has lapsed into.

Behold.


Lemon getting jiggy with Mr Green Guy.

Threesome with Cherries.

Read the full article at http://www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_1086492.html?menu=news.quirkies.badtaste

I mean...WTF...these are SWEETS that kids eat man. I think I ate some myself...without realising how racy the wrappers were. Haha..so eating lemon flavoured Maoam is just like having sex eh? Ohh...cherry flavoured Maoam lets you bust TWO cherries at one go. Duh..

Another example of totally irrelevant advertising.

How can this industry ever be meaningful? Wonder what they were thinking...shifting their target market towards horny old men who get a kick out of watching fruits have a go at it with little green men from mars while the fruity flavour floods their mouths? Get a life..

Riding hard, fast, safely AND taking a few corners.

Revenge Of The Sith

Having watched the much anticipated sequel of the StarWars, I must say that the storyline that George Lucas claimed would answer all the questions fans might have and plug all the gaps proved to be a disappointment. I shan't provide any spoilers by describing the storyline, but suffice to say I was rather taken aback by the ease at which Anakin turned to the Dark Side.

I mean, there was supposed to be this deliberating, inner struggle within Anakin on whether he should stick by his principles or betray them to save his wife's life. But what was shown on screen was a weak illustration, if anything, and failed to convince me enough to show sympathy for Anakin, which I feel certain was one of the emotions Lucas wanted to evoke; for viewers to sympathise, or empathise with Anakin Skywalker's decision to become a Sith Lord. When he went on his knees before Darth Sidious, I was like "Wha? Just like that?!?"...when just moments ago, he'd been reeling and asking himself what he had done. And the entirety in which Anakin's mindset changed when he became Sith was also too extreme to be believable.

And Darth Sidious looked like an old pussy, capable of dispatching only the mostly inept Jedi Knights. Dammit...he's supposed to be a Sith LORD! And in two encounters with Jedi Masters, he either loses or forces a draw. He always loses in the lightsaber duels and has to resort to fancy force tricks or Sith lightning... -_-'

Disappointing, to say the least. But at least the effects and fighting were good.

Riding hard, fast, safely AND taking a few corners.

Do You Ever Reminisce?

I can't believe I'm feeling like this. I know it's crazy, how I still can feel your kiss...

The words of Bryant McKnight's 6 months 8 days 12 hours echo woodenly in my mind. I cannot sleep, ever since I realised what date it was today.

The 24th of May.

The day that, if we hadn't parted ways, would have marked our 4th year together as girl-boyfriend.

The day that should have been, would have been, could have been......but will not be.

I lack the spirit for anything. I cannot fall asleep. I don't feel like gaming. I know I'll cut my corners too fast and hard for my own good if I seek solace with my 2 wheels. It's hardly the time to go singing. And I don't feel like doing anything else. And yet, bubbling deep within me, is this urgency to do something, anything, to get rid of this unrest that simmers within me.

I feel like fuck. And there's no other word to describe it.

Do I regret asking her that question 4 years ago? No. And yet....I do not know. I've almost become as fickle as she, I fear. Intermittenly weepy and morose. Haiz. The epitome of...what? I know not any longer. Maybe if I feel shitty enough, I might just go grab myself a pack of fags and burn away 5 minutes of my life with each drag of the smouldering embers...

Riding hard, fast, safely AND taking a few corners.

Spam

Ohhh, doesn't this word give you the shivers? Everyday when you open your inbox to check you email, you'd invariably get tons of unsolicited mail, offering your great discounted prices for various software, viagra and other like drugs that promise to exhance your sexual experience or enlarge your penis, or degrees and Master's certificates. Occasionally, you get the scam male from Romanians offering you cutting edge new laptops for abysmal prices, or Nigerians with their billion dollar ruses. Of late, I've even been getting German spam...and what's the point of sending me spam when I don't even understand what the heck you want me to buy?!?

And oh yesh...don't you wish you could get your hands on the perpetuators? Don't you wish you could just catch hold of just one of them and clamp their left testicle with a pair of pliers? For the excruciating bother of having to clear that online shit, and sometimes deleting legitimate email in the process, for sifting through that endless torrent of meaningless advertisements that you don't want or need for emails you've been waiting a week to receive.

Well, spam isn't something that came along with the internet. It is a problem that has been around for much longer. I clear my letterbox once every two days, and out of 20 articles, only 1 or 2 are not spam. The rest are fliers and advertisements.

Best Agent! 4 units sold in your area!

Dammit. I just moved in. I DO NOT FUCKING WANT TO SELL MY HOUSE!!!!

Grills, windows and gates for special prices!

I JUST CHANGED MY WINDOWS!!! I FUCKING DON'T WANT ANOTHER CHANGE!!!

I had about enough. On more than one occasion I'd almost thrown away important letters while sifting through the trash that's been crammed into my already jam-packed letterbox. One day, I swear I'll call the numbers listed in the fliers and SCREW THEM TILL THEIR TEETH RATTLE! Or I'll find their bloody mailbox and return all that spam and see how they like it. Bloody bastards...

Riding hard, fast, safely AND taking a few corners.

A Rider's Last Ride

Riding a bike is the most poignant reminder of our own mortality; each and every moment spent on the road a gamble if nothing else, augmented by the traffic conditions and the way we and the other motorists around us handle our vehicles. Reminding me that I am but a mere candle's flame, easily snuffed out without preamble. Each and every time I mount on. And it also reminds me of God's sovereignty, and how much bigger He is compared to the frail me.

Anything could happen. An accident due to the rider's own carelessness or recklessness. An accident due to other motorists' carelessness...I know of a Super 4 rider who passed away when he crashed into a car that had swerved away from another car that had crashed against a taxi performing abrupt lane change stunts. Hardly his fault, but it happened. Or perhaps a freak accident, like a stone or pebble, unleashed from a truck or flung from sticky tires and striking the rider at a vital point, causing him or her to lose control. Or even a branch, falling from a tree. Things like that are very real risks that all bikers face whenever we mount up.

And each moment spent riding puts us in touch with more bikers who are exposed to the same risks...sometimes in the hassle of our daily lives we often miss out on the point that the most important thing in our lives IS our lives, not getting there, not our right of way, not expecting other road users to behave in a certain way, not scrambling to fill our ricebowls (especially taxis).

And each death reminds us of this fact...

If only we'd wake up to the fact that has been lying before us all the time, and not 'realise' only when a price as heavy as a precious life has been paid. If only everyone realised this and allowed this realisation to galvanise them into action, the road would be a much safer, better place to be. No one would cut lanes or squeeze off other motorists, because they realise that lives are at stake here. No one would speed excessively and tailgate. No one would cut another motorist off. Because being human themselves, they understand the debilitating pain that comes along with the loss of a life held dear to themselves. The Traffic Police division could even be scrapped.

But the sad truth is, people often overlook the importance of life in favour of other more trival priorities they may care to make when out on the road. And they allow their anger and impatience to seep out, perpetuating acts that, in any other context besides the road, would qualify for many many offences listed in the Penal Code.

Aggressive driving and tailgating, or showing certain hand gestures could constitute the offence of Assault or Criminal Intimidation.

Actually hitting someone could qualify for Criminal Force or Volunteerily Causing Hurt with Dangerous Means; a car IS a powerful weapon.

Killing someone on the road SHOULD be defined as MURDER. All road users are required to acquire licenses, and holding one means the government has vested us with the permission to use the road, as well as the responsibility to use it wisely. Flaunting such responsibility, knowing that you could well take a life...how could any other sentence be appropriate? You are bloody doing something you KNOW could kill someone. It's not a bloody accident...you're a murderer. Do something wrong? Dare to face the fucking consequences like a man. You dared to do it? Now face the music. Not like some snivelling cowards like those who knocked me down, caused me indescribable pain and inconvenience, and then insisted I was at fault. Like hello? Would I be so stupid to throw myself into the possibility of such injuries, knowing how vulnerable I am as a biker?

And so saying, I do hope the dickless twirp who murdered the lady rider gets hauled to court and hanged for his actions. And however pointless, I'd like to extend my sincere condolences to both Grace and Benny's familys. Both unknown to me. But both bound to me by our similiar passion. You two enjoy your last ride Home, you hear me?


p.s. Mum, this one's for you too. I hear your concerns and your fears. And I love you :)
Riding hard, fast, safely AND taking a few corners.

Weekly Summary

An entire week of little, little interesting events that ought to be remembered, could have been developed into blogging material but I have hardly the time nor mental energy to do so. Ironic isn't it...especially since I'm supposed to be very free since I'm neither studying or working as of yet. But the truth is, I've had lots of different, different groups of people asking me out, the zenith being 4 different groups of friends asking me out all at the same time for roughly the same time slot. In the end I stayed home, and catered to PJ.

All the little things. That wild party night at Zouk, where I got so utterly high on two packets of LemSip MAX (ni zuo tian de bao gao...zhuo de hen hao!!!) and a long can of Amsterdam (11.6%), augmented by two glasses of whiskey dry and 2 jugs of vodka lime shared amongst the four of us, so high I screwed the taxi driver in the taxi (verbally I mean..), and it turned every female around me into veritable babes...not that I cared in my stupor; Erwin ended up talking to the ladies who hit on us while I strove frantically to dance off my high, to no avail. A far cry from the disappointing so-called 'Mambo Night' a few days later...

The swimming session, with lots and lots of eye candy prancing and frolicking in the wave pool, clad in two piece bikinis (duh...bikinis ARE two piece)...which yielded a massive sunburn (yes...I'm white enough to get a sunburn...surprised?) and a tangibly visible reduction of the spare tire around my waist. An indian kid who 'attacked' us with his float, and the utter pointlessness of teaching an ostrich how to swim; they simply aren't meant to.

The ktv sessions, screaming our lungs out, venting our emotions and frustrations. The DotA sessions where the noob (me) got owned over and over again. And the bloody computer glitch that cut me off from MSN. The chill out sessions. The flunked exam after the rain and the toilet fiasco. Meeting Adeline, making me feel like shit...and making her cry (i think). Having my blog layout criticised by Joyce more than half a year after I'd selected this skin. My handphone's increasing disability to fulfill its basic functions. Dad returning home (yippee), and cooking the sink stopper in the pot together with the beef stew. A xiao ah pi trying to pick a fight with me at Causeway Point. Playing bowling with the kids. My 'daughter' hugging me. Chong's mother's operation. The taboo and the unspeakable. So much shit happening, all within the short span of a week.

Bored yet? By all the inane incidents happening in my mostly inane existance. 'Ohh yes', you might be groaning...'he finally realises how NOT entertaining his bloody blog is'...

Well, news for you. This blog is a mirror for my reflections. And outlet for my frustrations. I post what I think, for my own perusal. Yep. I like reading my own writing. And I don't really care if anyone else feels the same. I'm narcissistic this way. Don't like? Don't read. Simple.

Riding hard, fast, safely AND taking a few corners.

Female's Romantic Anatomy

Click on this link

http://www.singaporebikes.com/forum/index.php?showtopic=75161&st=0

In there, there are different articles with regards to how women behave, think and act when it comes to relationships.

While I still maintain that there are girls out there who appreciate a nice guy in a tangible manner (like I mentioned two posts ago), and those of you girls who know me will know that I'm not a chauvanist, what I've experienced so far points in agreement with the arguments in that post.

So...any of you girls care to enlighten me on what women REALLY want or don't know they want, the perceived 'indecisive' nature and tendency to play mind games and hints that carries with your gender? Post some comments if you have something to say.

Riding hard, fast, safely AND taking a few corners.

Baby Talk

For three hours on end, we sat amidst swirling smoke, screaming our lungs out, expanding our larnyxes. Partially satisfied, we stepped out of Party World, only to find that the heavens was pouring itself out just as we'd poured out our emotions during the ktv session, and didn't show any sign of abating. A 6-pack of Tiger later, the rain still pattered rentlessly and the ensuing fiasco saw us back at XL's place just as the working class started contributing to the early morning jam on their way to work, totally drenched. I had some shut eye there, and woke up when the baby of the house started crying.

Now, the Ostrich has a really cute niece who's probably about 1 or 2 years of age, and just like the last time I was there with Red Leader, she gurgled and sputtered incomprehensible gibberish that most of us call 'Baby Talk', gesturing wildly and alternatingly crying, staring and laughing as she went along.

Nope. She's not a mentally challenged kid. That's how most babies behave, at one point or another. I have pictures of myself pointing at nothing in particular, pouting for no reason whatsoever, and my actions have been attributed as 'cute'...so I think the same applies for her as well.

All this brings me to wonder: Do babies actually know what they are saying when they engage in 'Baby Talk'? Or are they as clueless as we adults are, sprouting nonsensical syllables for the mere sake of noise making?

I doubt most of you can actually remember what you were doing or thinking way back during the time you were engaging in 'Baby Talk' and being excused of such senseless behaviour with the 'cute' label. For me, the only recollection I have of myself engaging in that act was with my younger brother, although there IS a very vague memory (which i cannot ascertain) of me pointing at my grandmother and 'Baby Talking', and although the words that came out were totally incomprehensible, I seemed to have had something I meant to express to my grandma. The recollections of my 'Baby Talk' conversations with my younger brother though, were pure gibberish that made as much sense as the proposed fare hikes in the public transport sector. We'd exchange strings of utter nonsense, something I started doing to stop him from crying when he was little.

Daniel: eh heh...eh heh...eh heh....(prelude)

Me: *uh-oh*

Daniel: weeeehehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh~~~

Me: *covers ears, scrambles over to the crib*

Daniel: wwweeeeeHEHHHhhhhhhhh~~

Me: coochie coochie coo...

Daniel: WWEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH~~!!!!

Me: *ack* ah-goo-ichi-ah....goo-la-ooo? (somehow when I phrased my gibberish in the questioning way, it'd get his attention faster)

Daniel: weeehhhh.....uh.....oooo?

Me: ee-ah-gee-yu-gu....ooo-goo-pu-la-mu?

Daniel: *squeals* heh heh...uh...guu?

Me: ah-goo-ku-li-ah....goo-lu?

Daniel: ah-goo...ki-lia-ooo?

*Mission Accomplished*

That's how it went.

I never really knew what I was talking about back then, but maybe it translated into something that only babies understood. And maybe, growing up, we lose that awareness and understanding of that secret language. Or maybe it's just pure nonsense, and my bro simply stopped crying because I probably looked and sounded goofy while trying to 'Baby Talk'.

It also makes me wonder, do adults sometimes know what they are talking about? Often, we hear senseless words, meaningless vulgarities attributed to male and female genitals or sexual intercourse, thoughtless jibes that hurt more than a knife's thrust from adults who are supposed to be discerning.

I mean, what's up with calling someone a 'dickhead'? You use two different body parts, think that it's 'name-calling', and expect someone to get offended? Puh-lease...how offended would anyone get if I called you 'Handleg', or 'Buttpelvis', or 'eyebrowfingernail', or 'vaginatoe'??? What's up with 'fuck'? Everyone says 'fuck you'...why not substitute it with something more refreshing like 'drink you!', or 'breathe you!'...or 'flex you!'....WHY FUCK?

Heck...I don't understand it. But I still use those words. Yeah...I'm another senseless nonsense talker...so sue me.

On a more serious note, do think before you say anything. Like a tube of toothpaste, what you spew forth from your mouth cannot be fully returned back into the tube. Hurts derived from verbal scourges tend to stay around for a long, long time.

Riding hard, fast, safely AND taking a few corners.

Romantic Insights

Here's a letter penned by a girl to the councillor who is councilling her boyfriend. Plagurised from SBF...but it set me thinking so much I thought I'd post it here as well.

Dear Doc Love,

My boyfriend and I have been together for almost two years. He's very loving, respectful, affectionate, and funny. He has also been a longtime follower of "The System," and is frequently sharing Doc Loveisms with guys who are struggling to keep their love connections going. So I'm pretty familiar with your philosophy -- but I want to share an insight about one of its principles."Women love a challenge" seems to be at the heart of your love advice, and with that in mind, you advise men to refrain from expressions of praise and love in the early stages of a relationship. I agree, to a large degree. If a man who has only known me for a short time rhapsodizes about my beauty and professes his undying love, I feel like I'm being conned. He obviously hasn't known me long enough to truly love and appreciate me.

it's time for words

But once a relationship moves beyond dating into a committed, long-term status, the dynamics on how and what to verbalize to a woman should change. This is the crux of what I'd like to pass onto your readers who are interested in keeping the woman they may have initially attracted.Believe it or not, we women are often just as mystified about our needs as guys are. It's taken me many years to fathom the primal wants of my womanhood.

Here is a simple truth I've discovered about women that, if practiced, will keep the romance alive and well for many years to come: Women respond very powerfully to sincere, specific verbal expressions of love, appreciation and desire. Why? Because women tend to be reflective. Whatever you focus on and express to her, she will mirror back to you. For instance, the more you see her special beauty, appreciate it and express it to her, the more beautiful she will become. The more you appreciate and express how sexy and desirable she is, the more passionate and desirable she will become. The more you acknowledge her special qualities, the more those qualities will magnify and bless your life.

say it and it will be so

When you verbalize your appreciation to a woman, it becomes more real and alive to her. The way to a woman's heart may very well be through her ears! And also her skin. Connect with her when you are speaking. Rather than a peck on the cheek and a quick "love you" as you walk out the door, hold her and look into her eyes when you say "I love you." Also, be specific. Tell her how you love the curve of her hips, how her waist feels under your hands, how lovely she looks in blue. And one last tip: The written word carries extra voltage for a woman. Most women I know would rather receive a page of love poetry written by their man, or a card with a paragraph of handwritten appreciation than a diamond necklace.In short, verbally express your love (in addition to all the wonderful ways that you already demonstrate love) with sincerity, sensuality and specificity, and you will have a glowing, giving goddess gracing your life.

Caprice -- who loves sweet nothings

And here is the reply:

Hi Caprice,

Great letter. And congratulations, you have the good fortune of being in a relationship with a man who religiously practices "The System." A man who is confident, takes charge, gives you plenty of affection, and keeps you laughing to boot. A real man who is neither a wimp nor a macho boy.Most women have to compromise when they pick a partner. They have to choose between a guy who is either strong but has little or no sensitivity, or a guy who is sensitive and affectionate but is lacking testosterone. But because you're in a relationship with one of my boys, you get the best of both worlds. Lucky you!

But you have a problem. Since you've taken the time and effort to write to me about a woman's need for verbal acknowledgement, it must be an issue for you in your own relationship, Caprice. Your boyfriend believes in Challenge so strongly because he knows that it was a major factor in his successfully capturing your heart. Understandably, he is probably thinking, "Why should I become less of a Challenge by getting all mushy? Being a Challenge is what got me to where I am today: in a relationship with an incredible woman."But, as a student of "The System," he should also know that, in order to keep you over the long haul, he must provide you with respect, affection and romance.

Apparently you're getting plenty of affection and respect from him, but not the exact form of romance that you require in order to be deliriously happy in your relationship.Your guy needs to gain a better understanding of what romance means to you. It sounds to me as if he is consistently demonstrating his love for you with his actions but he might be deficient in the verbal expression department. He should be complimenting you and verbally acknowledging you on a regular basis, and you should be doing the same for him. You're almost right.

He should be surprising you with thoughtful little love notes or poems every once in a while. (As long as he does those kinds of things for you less often than you do them for him. If he started doing them for you more often than you did for him, then he wouldn't be a Challenge and your Interest Level in him would begin to diminish. On the other hand, If he's never doing any of that for you, then he's not following "The System" completely.)And as far as the "I love yous" go, your man should be periodically telling you that he loves you. A woman does need to hear those words from her man. It's an essential part of the romantic experience. But once again, he should be saying that to you less often than you say it to him. And, he certainly should never be parroting it back to you whenever you say it to him. That's not romantic! He should give some.

Overall, Caprice, your boyfriend must keep in mind that a man should never give a woman everything she wants because doing that will leave her with nothing to discover, nothing to chase, no mystery. If you don't believe what I'm saying, just ask the average divorced guy why his wife left him and he'll tell you, "I don't know what happened, I gave her everything she asked for!" So you see Caprice, in one sense, it's good that you're slightly frustrated. The challenge for your man is to find that perfect balance between giving and holding back so that you are feeling cherished and adored, and yet still not completely fulfilled. Even though this might not make sense to you (as you mentioned, women have difficulty understanding themselves), this is what's going to keep your Interest Level sky-high over the long haul.Words are powerful and romantic and, when used with discretion, can certainly enhance intimacy. The key is that guys should never use flowery or sensual verbiage to try to raise a woman's Interest Level. But they should use it when her Interest Level is already off the charts. Then his words become a love offering rather than an appeal for approval.Remember guys; there's a reason why women swoon over "the strong, silent type."


************************

So...is that right? Did she leave me because I gave her everything, and there simply wasn't a 'Challenge' anymore? Did she leave me for a greater 'Challenge' she perceived with the ups and downs of bickering and affections of the third party?

And so, is love not what I thought it was? I always thought that being in a relationship, and loving a girl, you'd love her and show it by doing anything to make her happy. But this article defuncts it.

Well, I guess 'Love', being one of the greatest mysteries of life, isn't something that even someone like Doc Love can put down fast and hard rules to. Singers have been making songs of love since day one, and the songs that hit the top charts are usually love songs. Songs about other topics normally fade away into obscurity. And for centuries, scholars have been wracking their heads trying to figure 'Love' out, but while each one of them may have claimed to discover the key to the intricate workings of the heart, a second look at their articles is sufficient for most people to highlight certain flaws in their arguments, and in virtually every scenario, there is at least one person who violently objects to the viewpoint at hand.

And so as it stands, the subject of Love is still a very open one. And thus, I shan't deviate from my belief that a girl I fall in love with, a girl who is worth loving, is worthy of my every effort to make her happy. And that's all that matters to me. Her smile. To show me that she's happy, that I made her happy. To bring back the sun into my world.

Riding hard, fast, safely AND taking a few corners.

What Makes A Good Blog?

There has been quite a lot of hype in cyberspace recently.
Reading through the links that the Schizophrenic Frog has scattered liberally all over his posts, I encounter a good number of folk who have been brown-ed, surf stopped by Mr Miyagi or Cowboy Caleb-bed, gush excitedly about it, and have their traffic skyrocket overnight.

These are normal, ordinary folk you'll easily find living right next door who normally would've remained relatively unknown, except that, a couple of personalised recommendations later (being brown-ed means Mr Brown spotted your blog), their blogs are catapulted from the depths of obscurity, garnering a good couple of hundred hits per day at the very least. For those who have been churning out consistantly good posts, they are permanently linked and can easily boast of at least a thousand hits a day.

Which brings me to this question; What makes a good blog? What is it about each entry that makes folk like Mr Brown sit up and take note? What is it about Xiaxue that got her so popular with readers (she calls em 'blogders') that she gets featured in newspapers and gets even more popular to the extent where she gets a staggering 10, 000 hits per day? Surely there are many others out there who writes better? In any case, what is it about Mr Brown and Co. that makes their endorsement so golden, where a single referral sends a couple of hundred more readers to pore over every syllable and consonance in their archive of posts? In essence, what is it that truly sets one blog above the rest?

In essaying to answer this question, I ran through several recommended blogs and came upon Celly's blog. What to say. This is an utterly witty girl, if not someone who has plenty of imagination, as well as lots of time to act on that imagination. Like I mentioned before, I fervently believe that there are plenty of other folk out there with fresher imaginations, but the key point that makes that difference is the time invested into shaping this imagination into something hilariously funny or utterly thought provoking. Let's face it, as with everything else, the amount of effort put in often guarantees the results way before the results themselves bubble to the surface. In the case of blogging, the effort required is mental. You sit in front of the keyboard and hammer in a no-brainer entry that yammers on about how inane your inane day was, what happened and who you hate, no one's going to be interested. Heck, I think about lame stuff all the time too, but unlike Celly, I don't normally store that corny stuff in my head like how she remembers a short conversation whilst walking back to the NUS campus from Foong Seng and put it in my blog, and therein lies the difference...the spark that sets aside her blog from others.

And so can I write about myself in my blog? Would it be branded as a selfish act? Of course, some of you might argue that its YOUR blog, and you're using it to vent your frustrations blah blah...but hey, we're talking about what makes a good blog, and rants about who planted that plastic lizard into my handbag, a good blog does not make. If you want to complain, either make sure you make the account sound as hilarious as possible, or confirm that you have a huge base of hardcore supporters who blindly think you rock and will follow your blog whether your next few posts contain the content of a coconut husk. Oh, while it's not an absolute prerequisite, it does help if you happen to be drop dead gorgeous like Sandra or Cassandra, both of which would in all probability have a huge following of testerone-packed young males stopping by their blogs every half an hour to check for non-existant updates, posting endless comments in the hopes that one of these babes might notice....which happens to be as unlikely as the possibility of Adrian backing out of a flame war and eating humble pie, or having taxi drivers signal 3 seconds before changing lanes.

The other blogs I went through shed little light on the issue at hand though; Many popular blogs with plentiful hits that had been recommended some way or another did not appear to contain spectacularly engaging posts and the only marked differences were more pictures and links. In contrast, blogs that have flowing prose and content that often gives you plenty of food for thought are shunned. Perhaps the average blog reader isn't really the avid bookworm that I am, pretty much adverse to lengthy, wordy posts, but are attracted to the garish and colourful pictures and flashing banners that these blogs possess. Just like the average bimbo.

And so, if the average blog reader is the average bimbo, does a good blog have to be all about the number of hits now? Average folk endorse average products, and fail to appreciate anything that exceeds their threshold of understanding. And the term 'average' encompasses majority of the blog readers out there, who mostly do not spare their time attempting to digest heavy content and are content (pun intended) to skip blogs with such content to indulge in blogs with silly pictures and humourous-but-meaningless conversation boxes. And so, to attract the mediocre, you got to be mediocre. Having a lot of hits does not, in my opinion, guarentee that your blog has quality. There may be exceptions, but I have been blind to these so far.

I would conclude that the blog reader's mental threshold would determine whether they thought a blog was swell or not. The average one would go around seeking out inane jokes and topics that somehow, despite their inane nature, tickles the readers and manages to make them laugh, and think that 'hey...this is a swell blog'. The horny bastards would seek out blogger babes, and think 'hey...this is a swell blog' no matter what the babe posts.
The rarer, more discerning breed would filter out the trash, and come to a different sort of conclusion altogether.

And so...are you an average blog reader? Or an exception



Riding hard, fast, safely AND taking a few corners.

Crazy Asian Drinks

Here's what a coupla ang mos thought of some drinks from our side of the world: Crazy Asian Drinks

Trust me...although I'm aware that it's supposed to be vaguely insulting, I laughed till I almost fell out of my chair...

Riding hard, fast, safely AND taking a few corners.