Moving On

Emotional attachment is a dangerous thing. It is a narcotic. We yearn dearly for it; we immerse ourselves in the euphoria of the experience when we obtain it; we become utterly dependent on it, and the moment we are deprived of it, we spiral into a seemingly perpetual cycle of suffering and withdrawal – we surrender to the gravity of emptiness, and the darkness of emptiness is dense indeed.

It is an electrostatic bond. Once broken, the elements roam fervently to locate a substitute and reform the compound. Some of us are halogens; desperate to complete our outer shell, clinging onto the closest element in our vicinity, sometimes, the very same element that we were torn away from in the first place. Others are inert and are in no rush to form a compound again, if ever.

For most of us, moving on is akin to emerging from absolute darkness. We stand blind, precariously on the edge of a precipice. We shift tentatively, fearing the depthless abyss that awaits a misguided step. But as we venture away from the origin, with blind faith in the solidity of the earth beneath our feet, the sun begins to emerge from its slumber. With every step, it rises further still, until the world is lit in its glorious entirety. With our vision reborn, we look back to find a precipice of yielding foundation, destined to crumble. With our vision reborn, we look forward to find a new element – another element to yearn for, to immerse in euphoria with, to depend on, and with any luck, to not suffer over.

Emotional attachment is a dangerous thing, but it is the inability to move on that is the hand that thrusts the knife into one's heart. So move on.

Esjay

Photogenic (or not) pt. 2

In a quick blog entry I wrote on a sunny afternoon sometime during April last year (probably following a narcissistic self check-out session in front of a large mirror), I noted that I was (and am) terribly unattractive in photos and pondered whether photographs were an accurate reflection of the physical form. Given the following examples, I certainly hoped not.

Example 1: Drunk Face

Example 2: Cabramatta Face

Example 3: Dancing like a retard face.

I have since come to terms with my inability to look good in a photograph. Rather, I have found that with the right lighting, one can mitigate the 'turd-smearing effects of the camera lens' (see link to previous blog entry above), and I have put this revelation to good use.

Normal Lighting

As you can see, the above photograph is not very flattering. My shiny forehead and overt skin blemishes exacerbate the bemused look on my face.

25% Reduced Lighting

At reduced lighting, it is clear that my mirror-like forehead is not as prominent as the previous picture and the dark patches around my cheeks blend somewhat well with the now darker background. This has the effect of abating the amount of attention a viewer places on my face (the salient feature in the photograph), and increases the probability that a viewer concentrates on my 'herculean' body instead.

50% Reduced Lighting

With further reduction in lighting, the photograph has become rather acceptable. My flaws blend well with the background, and my bemused look will be interpreted by viewers as: "Someone has taken a picture of this poor douche in the dark without him knowing, and the click of the camera has thoroughly confused him, which is understandable given he looks kind of stupid."

100% Reduced Lighting

At 100% reduced lighting you cannot see my face at all. My bemused look, shiny forehead, and bad complexion are completely hidden; ergo, the picture is... perfect.

The secret to a great photograph? Lighting.

Plenty of Fish in the Sea

In episode 7 of season 1 in the U.S sitcom, 'How I Met Your Mother' (Matchmaker), Ted Mosby approaches a dating consultant and an amusing exchange ensues after the consultant purports to possess an algorithm that can perfectly match a person with another based on certain variables related to preferences and personality.

Ted: ... I don't need an Algorithm to meet women. It's New York City. You know, plenty of fish in the sea.

Ellen: Plenty of fish in the sea. Yes, there's 9 million people in New York, 4.5 million women, of course you wanna meet someone roughly your own age, let's say, plus minus 5 years. So if we take into account the most recent census data, that leaves us with 482,000. But ah, wait. 48% of those are already in relationships and then you have to take out the ex-girlfriends and the relatives and oh, we can't forget those lesbians and then that leaves us with 8 women.

Ted: That can't be right. Eight? Really, eight?

Ellen: There are 8 fish in that big, blue ocean Ted. And if you feel confident that you can reel one into your boat without me, there's the door.

Ted: Do you take credit cards?

8 women. Preposterous. As I was a firm believer in the 'many fish in the sea' principle, I decided to undertake some research of my own to prove that, at least in my case, there are substantially more than 8 fish in the ocean. In fact, I wanted to prove that there were thousands of fish in the sea, and that there were other schools waiting to be baited in vast oceans.

The Variables

Before pursuing my research, I distinguished a number of key qualities that I look for in a woman:

• Must actually be a woman. No surprises.
• Must be of straight sexual orientation.
• Preferably be around the same age.
• Of Asian background.
• Smart (IQ over 120).
• Aesthetically pleasing (to me).
• Not overweight (this is of the utmost importance).
• Not in a relationship.
• Personalities must be compatible.

Perfectly reasonable expectations.

The Statistics

There are 7,238,800 people in Sydney. The sex ratio of women to men is 99.2:100 (ABS, 2010), which leaves approximately (rounded to the nearest person) 3,633,936 women. Of these women, 7% are in the 15-24 age bracket (the 'plus minus 5 years' benchmark, ABS 2010), 16.9% are Asian, of which 63% are truly Asian (i.e. excluding the Indian population, etc. No offence, ABS 2007), and 4.3% are lesbian (study by Monash University). 25,919 women left.

The IQ scale is based on standard deviations, so only 10% of women will have an IQ greater than 120. 2592.

Having conducted an experiment, where I observed over 30 women on the train and gave them an 'aesthetic rating' between 1 and 10 (1 being appallingly unattractive and 10 being drop dead gorgeous), I assumed my sample was approximately normally distributed (given the high sample number) and employed the empirical rule to ascertain that 15.8% of women I meet or rather, see, I will rate above 7.6 (which is roughly a distinction; good enough). 410.

54% of Australians are overweight (ABS 2006). Terrible. 188.

Let us, for convenience sake, assume that the statistic provided by the sitcom holds true and that 48% of people are already in a relationship and that there is a 50% probability of personality compatibility. That leaves...

The Result

46 women. There are 46 women in Sydney that fits the bill, and I haven't even considered the minute possibility of meeting these women by chance encounter. Do you take credit cards indeed.

New Year Resolutions

On the stroke of midnight - the temporal bridge between the New Year and the last - seated on an aged couch of fading floral patterns in a lounge room that has scantly changed over the course of 20 years, I resolved never to concoct a list of New Year resolutions again.

I reasoned that if one's desire to change for the better was to have any ounce of integrity, the birth of said desire, would not hinge on a trivial and rather artificial milestone in time. The only stimulus for change should be the realisation of the need for change and surely such a realisation can come at any point during the year - our flaws are not annual in their emergence. If only we were so fortunate.

Yet as I sat in contemplation of my aforementioned resolution (how ironic), I became increasingly wary of how time had left its subtle mark on everything in my surroundings, like the tide against a sandstone cliff, though their positions have remained unchanged for as long as I could remember. The chipped paint on the corners of the wall, the fading couch, the layer of dust on the antique frame that houses an old photograph of my youth long lost. Have I too been worn away by time? Have I become jaded and apathetic?

At this point, everything that was wrong in my life became all too clear, as if the clouds of doubt in my mind had been swept away by a torrent of confronting rain, leaving me with an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. The façade I had erected to convince myself that everything was OK;that everything was as I wanted it to be, shattered into a myriad of infinitesimal fragments, leaving only a feeling of discontent like a foul aftertaste. Fuck me dead; I needed to change. So much for my resolution.

New Year Resolutions

1. Treat my family better.
2. Keep in touch with friends.
3. Improve Law.
4. Be a good tutor.
5. Practice piano and guitar regularly.
6. Stay fit.
7. Read and write more.
8. End two year run (and counting) of bachelorhood.