The Endorphin Rush

You know that natural endorphin high most budding athletes claim to get while engaged in some adrenaline-charged physical activity? That particular moment when the excruciating aches and pains tapers away to a glorious sense of euphoria?

Seriously I am beginning to think the endorphin rush is an urban legend developed to fuel the sweat-soaked dreams of many. Just the infamous placebo effect working its wicked wiles on the exhausted, light-headed, oxygen-starved jocks.

Till now I have never reached that high. After a miserable half hour on the elliptical, all I'm feeling is tired, sweaty and bloody irritated. Any amount of enthusiastic encouragement given by the friendly neighbourhood trainer would probably be unfairly rewarded with a barbell bounced off his sculpted head.

But yes, much to everyone's surprise - including myself - I have been visiting the gym irregularly for the past few weeks. And not only to drool over the shirtless patrons.


Feel the burn?
No, I certainly have no intention of developing the much-envied six-pack or even the seductive Apollo's belt. All I want to do is avoid falling into the sad cliche of the sedentary workaholic dropping dead from a sudden heart attack in his mid-thirties.

Ouch.

Several months back while doing nothing much in particular, I suddenly suffered a disagreeable spasm somewhere in the region of my chest. Like all intensive care doctors, we immediately leap to the worst possible conclusion. Tension headaches turn into brain tumours, mild coughs turn into raging pneumonias. Nightmarish worst-case scenarios, that's me.

So rather than hope for something reasonably mild like a gastric reflux, I promptly clutched a handful of aspirin thinking I was dying from an acute myocardial infarction. Otherwise known as a massive heart attack. The more I thought about it, the more I started to feel an ominous tingle running down my left arm. Even thinking that it might be a heart attack was enough to make me nauseous. Not sure which part of it was really happening and which part was plain psychosomatic - an unfortunate by-product of my wildly imaginative brain.

Thought of inserting a branula to run some reperfusion therapy but thought better of it. Especially since once I reached my workplace, all the results turned out to be within normal range. Even my ECGs looked fine.

Yes, it was a wild panic. But of course it pushed me onto the treadmill for starters. Blergh.

Still no endorphin rush though.

Pity about Pythagoras

Seriously we do learn a hell of a lot in school.

Unfortunately it's a whole load of crap we never actually put to practical use in real life! At least not in my daily working life. Till now I have never felt the need to apply advanced probability theories or complex calculus formulas ever. Nothing about the earth-shaking movements of tectonic plates either. Fear not though, aspiring young students, perhaps all the needless information stuffed ceaselessly into our young minds does serve as a solid foundation for later studies.

Or at least I hope. Otherwise a miserable decade of excruciating Gradgrind schooling would have gone to complete and utter waste!

A definite conclusion Pirating Patty and I have come to after making the fateful decision to tutor our protege Lil Orphan Annie, who has been steadily flunking out of school. It has been a long while since we've looked through our textbooks - much longer for me - and after wading through the entire encyclopaedic lot, we realized not only are we clearly unsuited to the thankless job, we are clearly downright imbecilic.


Unfortunately our protege isn't an Orphan Andy who looks like that.
Did we really study all that much back then? The sheer amount of inconsequential information crammed into our textbooks seems mind-boggling - and I find it hard to believe I actually managed to revise, recall and regurgitate all that seeming triviality for the final exams! Ten subjects at minimum? No doubt I must have been certifiably insane as a pock-marked teenager to even contemplate that!

Nothing astounded me as much as the inscrutable mathematics textbook of course. Never been a devotee of Mathematics but I swear I used to pass muster at least. But now even the basic Pythagoras Theorem left me stumped for a moment. Seemed utterly impossibly alien! Wasn't there something about a triangle? You can imagine how amazed I was when I looked through the incomprehensible mathematical process of finding a derivative.

Patty : OMG Did we become stupid overnight?
Paul : I have no idea! Did we actually know so much?
Patty : We must have!
Paul : You mean we knew about organic chemistry and the laws of physics as well?
Patty : And history. And geography. At least I think we knew all that... didn't we?
Paul : I've never actually thought about it but fucking hell, we must have been fucking brilliant!

Unlike the present when the elementary times table leaves me dumbfounded. How far the mighty have fallen.

In our miserably incompetent attempts to teach Orphan Annie, we realized that we couldn't remember a whit! Might as well be unlettered rustics scrabbling on dingy cave walls since obviously we have zero retention on everything we learnt in our classes back then.

Guess it's back to school for the both of us.

Love that Dare not Speak

For once I don't mean the sort referenced by the infamous Oscar Wilde - but for all the secret lovers who hide their ardent feelings for reasons unbeknownst and dare not speak of their love. More fool they.

In this case the surprisingly reticent Lanky Larry. Normally shockingly outspoken with his booming earth-shaking baritone, our feral lion shrinks into a mewling kitten when it comes to sentimental matters of the heart. While we all initially thought he batted on our side of the pitch, it turns out Larry actually plays for both sides.

Which explains his crush on a certain someone we know.


Paul : Why are you telling me this? Shouldn't you tell the girl you love instead?
But rather than keep it private and confidential, it seems to have made the public rounds instead. In fact, as it turns out, everyone else in town already knows about his unrequited love ... except for the girl in question.

Girl : He told his best friend. He told his sister. He told his cousins. He told his aunts.
Paul : Surely not everyone!
Girl : I even heard it from the general storekeeper that Larry likes me.
Paul : So why hasn't he made a move?
Girl : I really have no idea why. I've certainly made my position very, very clear.
Paul : So you like him too?
Girl : Short of carving out a tattoo of his name on my gym-toned arse, yes.
Paul : Yet he dare not speak of it?
Girl : Well he screams of his love to everyone else in the world. Maybe even passing strangers.
Paul : You're single. He's single. Where's the hitch?
Girl : Maybe it's complicated. For him.
Paul : Oh God.

It's not exactly thatcomplicated. Aren't we all brought up with the notion that plain vanilla heterosexuality is just that much easier? You like a girl. She likes you. You get up and make a move to kiss the girl.


Which is obviously what Larry's afraid of.

Without ever making a risk in pursuing the relationship, nothing is ever going to happen. Other than overly sentimental Korean dramas, very few people actually wait forever - especially when there doesn't seem to be any hope of reciprocation. Only so much a good girl can do to show her interest before she finally gives up and moves on to the next.

Looks like Larry's gonna miss the girl.

Otherwise known as The You Snooze, You Lose Theory.

Outlandish Proposal

Poor fellows these days are under increasing pressure to dream up the perfect proposal to please their demanding ladies. Just a plain gold band offered on bended knee isn't going to impress the critical Miss Independents of today. Nothing seems to gratify them other than the most shockingly outlandish proposals from viral flash mob proposals to overpriced highway billboards screaming out marriage vows.

Let's be honest, most women just want bragging rights to say that their soon-to-be husband is wildly romantic and have her envious bosom buddies ( and most especially her frenemies ) squeal over it when she tells them how he proposed.

And then we have Virginal Vesper.


Vesper : I can't even look at you when I say it.
Paul : Couldn't have been that bad a proposal.
Vesper : Trust me, it was. What should I do?
Paul : Other than throw the ring at his face?
Vesper : There is no ring.
Paul : Now I know why you're at therapy.
After almost a decade of pining for the ring, her significant other finally gave in. But rather than opt for something wildly extravagant like a romantic carriage ride through the park, he proposed through instant messaging instead.

Till now we're not even sure if it's valid.

Vesper : He gave me a date, asked me I liked it.
Paul : A date for what?
Vesper : I have no idea. I think maybe a wedding?
Paul : Just like that! No whispers of sweet nothings? No vows and promises of love and commitment?
Vesper : No. Just a date and a message asking if it's alright.
Paul : I am a terribly unsentimental fellow with little need for grand gestures... but even I would have smashed the phone to little pieces.

Seriously what's wrong with some heterosexual men?

I fully understand that the wedding is only the beginning of a lifelong journey but surely even that deserves a bit of festive fanfare. Don't expect all that much but is it too much to ask for a candlelight dinner and some champagne? Sure it's a damned cliche but it's a far sight better than a 'hey why not we get married' proposal.

Might as well just head for the civil registry.

And most horrifyingly there's not even a ring. Even a cheap, tacky beer tab would have been better than nothing.

The Schism of Seksualiti

Seksualiti Merdeka is an annual sexuality rights festival held in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia featuring a programme of talks, workshops, theatre and music performances organised by a coalition of Malaysian NGOs, artists and individuals. According to the organisers, the purpose of the festival, which has been organised annually since 2008, is not to change the minds of the public to embrace the values of the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender ( LGBT ) community, but to consolidate the LGBT community, and empower Malaysians to recognise their rights.

Lofty ideals aside, the week-long festival is basically a time for the minority group to gather, talk and share with the rest of the public.

Of course, any mention of sexuality - especially in regards to alternative sexuality - gets the belligerent religious zealots in our country extremely riled up. Picket signs and pitchforks get waved about as the scholarly exhibition is erroneously labeled as a hedonistic sex orgy. The surprisingly efficient cops come along and the festival is summarily banned.


Case closed, you would say - except this time, the boys in blue seem to have bitten off more than they can chew since the highly vocal organisers of Seksualiti Merdeka aren't giving up all that easily.

With the potentially explosive issue being bantered about daily on the media headlines, there is a growing schism amongst the members of the GLBT community on how to deal with the unprecedented limelight. Even as the furore slowly dies down to become yesterday's news, I think the issue has unearthed an unsettling rift in the community.

Despite our relatively small number, there is a clear separation of ideas amongst people like us: on one side we have the aggressive campaigners who advocate stridently marching for their civil rights while on the other, we have the more complacent gentlefolk who prefer things kept on the down-low without attracting much unwanted attention.


Time for war?
A situation ripe for battle. Akin to the beginnings of a civil war, repeated volleys of taunts and ripostes have already been launched from one group to the other with little chance of a ceasefire in the near future. Especially since it's already clear that the two sides on either sides of the rift have vastly differing opinions when it comes to their sexuality.

Speaking from the position I am in, it would be easy to just keep mum, hunker down and refrain from rocking the boat so to speak. Things are actually going good. Home life is doing fine, even after my recent coming out. Same for the workplace. Homosexuality isn't a dire mental disease to be cured anymore and despite their own reservations, even the most conservative would hesitate to speak against it since it would contravene accepted medical practice. So publicly open homophobia amongst my colleagues is rare.

Being in a more fortunate place in life, isn't it time to help our downtrodden brothers and sisters who are being discriminated against? I think there is a need to have someone literally out there and proud - and yes, shouting our slogans in public as well. Though I don't see the need for twinkly pink parade floats careering down Bukit Bintang anytime soon, I think homosexuals and transgenders need a credible voice out there to make a gentle push for tolerance and change. Perhaps even an identifiable model to show that things actually do get better so that teens struggling with their sexuality would know for sure that a bright future is eminently possible.

And yes, though it would be a long time coming, I would like someday to repeal the damned antiquated 377A penal code. Having that particular Sword of Damocles perpetually hanging over our heads for the rest of our lives is a chilling prospect.

So yes, I am glad there are folks like the ballsy outspoken organisers of Seksualiti Merdeka who are willing to risk the painful brickbats of the conservatives to speak up for the issues close to our heart. People like these are the ones who made Stonewall happen. Though we might not have chosen these champions to represent us, that doesn't make their sacrifices any less worthy of our respect.

There is more than enough hate in the world for people like us, we don't have to add to it.