Friday, July 15, 2005

I'm in such a strange mood tonight.

the bug
needed a hug.
He searched high,
he searched low,
and eventually fell into a mug.
Poor Thug.

It's actually got a deeper message. Searching for a hug could get'cha killed. Yay.

I'm in such a strange mood tonight. More sugar, anyone?

(My word count is below 100, for once! Heh. The word-limit idea is from Torment, and I'm feeling more inarticulate than usual, so I'll stop now.)

Hi? Hi. That was a pointless convo. Very. I'm talking to myself here. Shaddup.

My muse is vicious. I like to think of my muse as a she. I think she suffers of constant PMS. Whoever said muses are a joy has never met my muse. She is a sadist and pounds me till all of my essence is laid bare on the page.

I still don't feel like writing about the Salem Hysteria. The Crucible is an amazing novel - no, play. Play play play. Novel/play. It is amazing. But because I'd read it, I don't feel like writing about the hysteria. Before, I'd thought of the Salem Witch Trials as a mere historical event. Y'know, it happened, it's past, it hadn't even taken place in or affected Malaysia so why feel down about it? Now, however... after reading the novel/play, it's... I'm not terribly articulate nor particularly eloquent, and I realise that, so I don't know exactly how to describe what I'm feeling, but... well, summed up, I feel more down and depressed about it than just 'oh, it happened'. Probably because I realise that innocents were hung and weren't even given a chance. Court meant confess or hang, and both options weren't terribly appealing. And to think, it might have been avoided if not for a bunch of teen girls who accused others because they thought it 'sport'. Bleh.

Hey, I wrote about it. Sorta.

Well, I'm going to go cut me hair today. Can't stand long hair, because of the weather. Wish me luck? It's gonna go short on me and I'm slightly nervous because I'm trying a new hairdresser.

I got a phone call from my ex-nextdoorneighbour earlier today. We're around the same age, used to go to the same school, and even went there together. We were really, really close. We used to climb over the fence to visit each other every day. The fun ended when she moved away, but we still kept in touch.

I must say, though, that our convo today was the most pointless phone conversation ever.

Me: Hi.
She: Hi.

*long pause*

She: How are you?
Me: I'm fine, how are you?
She: Fine too.

*very long pause*

Me: I don't know what to say.
She: Me too.

*VERY long pause*

She: I have to go.
Me: Me too.

Yeah. It kinda deteriorated from the very beginning. Sizzled before it even properly began. We were once best friends and now have nothing to say to each other. It's disheartening, really.

Where art thou, Mr Sandman?

It is 12:30 AM right now.

I haven't slept a wink. I'm wide, wide awake.

It bothers me, because I really should sleep.

I can't, though.

Researching is not fun, when it's got to do with the Salem Witch Trials. Writing about the Salem Hysteria is painful, bloody work. I feel the need to capitalise those words. It's probably not right.

19 hung. 1 tortured. 5 died in jail. I have to write. More. More. It started only because a bunch of teens and pre-teens thought it decent 'sport' to accuse innocent locals of witchcraft. Decent sport. More. More. My stomach feels like a washing machine, and it isn't even that time of the month. I'm only feeling like this because I'm tired, right? I can't write this now. Perhaps this is why I've been procrastinating so much.

If this persists tomorrow, I'm done for. Note: Panadol might help.

I'm carefully poking the letters on my keyboard and wincing at every loud click or boosh or beep.

Goal: Contact Mr. Sandman.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

And I realise I'm lucky because I have nothing to do

I was really, really, really bored today, with nothing to do. Besides homework, but I've been procrastinating, and I can leave it for a day or two more, right? Besides, it's not due till a month. So I got on MSN, which I hardly ever do because... well, I don't know, but I hardly come online, and a close friend of mine was online. Yay. Someone to talk to. So we started talking, and I realised how lucky I am that I don't have much to do during the holidays.

Here goes part of our conversation. She's fate and I'm llama:

do I believe in fate? says:
can u?
do I believe in fate? says:
these r seriously busy days
do I believe in fate? says:
I barely have time to eat
do I believe in fate? says:
so much! seriously am dying
do I believe in fate? says:
like... everyday, i got to get up round 6 to get to the stable, getting a ride with this guy, who btw also expects me to spend time with him and who also brought back an argentinian guy who doesnt speak a word of english whom im supposed act as a guide and translator for
do I believe in fate? says:
which is stressful considering that everyday I havw to ride, work at the stable, exercise, eat lunch, find time for breakfast which I often don’t eat cuz I have no time with riding and all... and i swear my trainer has gone crazy and thinks I am superwoman or smthing...
Here's a llama there's a llama says:
Aah sounds like you have it even worse now than you did during school
do I believe in fate? says: housework, buy groceries, arrange for the future of my horse, do schoolwork, cook dinner for the family, either go back to the stable in the afternoon, which is at bukit kiara equestrian by the way and isnot tht near to my condo, or go out with friends... plus many of my friends are leaving so i have to spend sum time with them too before I don't get to see them again...
do I believe in fate? says:
do I believe in fate? says:
oh, and on top of that, cuz the argentinian guy and this other guy is here, i have to go clubbing with them, and then Im also trying to club a bit with my other friends and that means about 3 hours sleep a night
do I believe in fate? says:
and I hate you for nt coming to bangsar that day...
Here's a llama there's a llama says:
stop working so hard, hehe. i should be doing my summer homework and i havent even started. i finished reading the crucible though.
Here's a llama there's a llama says:
actually, maybe you /should/ work... work lots... makes me feel better cuz i have nothing to do
do I believe in fate? says:
am gonna smack you when I see you, you know that right

By the way, don't put durian in the fridge, unless you want everything durian-flavoured. Had a drink of durian-ribena earlier. While it had an interesting taste, it wasn't what I was going for. Heh.

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Pictures We Drew

Your tree is crooked. No it's not. Yes it is. Do you want my ruler? No, it's fine. But it's crooked. It's better than yours. It's ugly. Yours is. I'm talking about your tree. I'm talking about yours. Let me show you-- NO. It's mine. Fine. Don't let me fix it, then. I won't. I was only trying to help. It's my painting. It's not your paints. Not yours too. Mommy gave them to me. Only because you started crying. I can use them too. Not if I tell her you're being mean to me. I'll tell her first. She won't believe you. She will. I'm older than you. So? So? So?

I remember when I was younger. Nothing was wrong with pink grass. Nothing was wrong with slanted houses. Nothing was wrong with painting my whole picture black or red because they were just pretty colours and didn't represent anything. Teachers asked. Parents asked. Why black? Why red? Why not? Paint her eyes red and her heart black and it was fine they were just colours.

Oh. Don't use those colours. They're wrong. Are you sad? Why is her heart black? Why? Why? Why not? Come, let me show you the right colours. Why? Why? Don't do it that way again, it's wrong. Give me your brush. You can't do it that way but you're supposed to be creative unique art is good and limitations restrictions don't do it that way I'm not a hypocrite. Why? Why? Just don't.

Your sky is the wrong colour. Who says? It's purple. It's my drawing. So? So? So?

I died. (Not really.)

Don't you just hate it when great dreams turn into nightmares? Ugh. It was all happy until someone decided to come kill me. Buuut, as always, I woke up before I actually died. Hooray.

This post is shooort. I don't know what to write about. And it's very late. And nothing much made me think.

But, I did go out today. Went to Mantin with my family, there were prayers for my cousin Jesslyn. Her first birthday. Her name is actually really, really, really similar to mine when said out loud. Hehe. So, yeah. On the way to Mantin, we saw this car on FIRE. The whole car was enveloped in flames. It was so cool. Not too cool for the owners, I suppose. It was all the way on the side, so they must've got out in time.

Nothing much happened besides prayers. I got well-water splashed on me, and that was interesting. Never seen a well before, and it was so deep. And narrow. The water looked black. Hm. We headed home in the early evening, and the air was so bad, towards Selangor. Saw some trees on fire, and was shocked. It was just after it rained, too. Good thing the fire was small, but still. Bleh. It was so hazy.

Bummed out about dying.

Friday, July 08, 2005

Kids say the darndest things

I've finally took the time to do the Links sidebar, as I was tired of losing the URLs to certain peoples blogs. It's always under construction, and if anyone wants to be added, just say so. Really.

"Kids say the darndest things," or so I've heard. You've watched that TV show, right? It's the one where Bill Cosby asks a bunch of kids these questions and they manage to come up with some of the funniest, oddest, and sometimes slightly inspirational answers. I hadn't had much experience with kids besides the occasional visit to my nephews and nieces, and they certainly hadn't said anything of the sort. And so I was convinced that those shows were staged, that children could by no means come up with those stuff by their own.

I couldn't have been more wrong. And I realised that the greatest things ever said could come from the mouth of even a nine year old.

I used to take Psychology last year, and it was one of the subjects I actually liked. I hadn't actually chosen to take the subject out of interest; I thought that it may fit well with two of my other subjects, Biology and Chemistry, as I planned to go into Science some time in the future. But, looking back, I'm glad I'd chosen to take Psychology, as the class was always interesting. Despite the teacher being somewhat of a loony, it was great. Perhaps it was because she was slightly odd that the students were always awake.

We used to do all these experiments, both in and out of class - of school, in fact. We did them alone, in twos, in threes, anywhere even remotely interesting (that doesn‘t sound wrong, does it?). But no one told me that the most rewarding, the most remarkable experiment would be not down by the main road watching if people sidestepped or walked right over that one large drain, but in a third grade class, full of nine year olds.

We were to analyse children’s drawings. I went down to the class not expecting much at all - after all, they were only nine year olds, and couldn’t be that interesting, right? So I set about with the experiment. Gave them sheets of paper to draw on, read the instructions, and waited till they were all done. I was bored while I waited for them to finish their drawings, and I think the teacher could tell, because she promptly asked the class a question: if you were stranded on an island and could bring only one person, who would you bring?

That got me thinking. I’d bring a friend, I thought, so I wouldn’t end up being so bored. The children answered. Lots of them said they’d bring their mother, a couple said they’d bring their friends, and I didn’t think anything of their answers until a boy said that he wouldn’t bring anyone. Sufficient to say, that surprised me - usually, kids wouldn’t like to be all alone.

The teacher asked him a couple of questions. Wouldn’t you be afraid? Don’t you want to bring your parents? How about a friend? And all the while, the boy shook his head, and muttered a short and simple “no,” as if he wouldn’t mind being all alone.

The teacher asked him why, and I was shocked - and definitely touched - by his answer. The boy, only nine years old and in the third grade, replied with words that extended even beyond my grasp. “Because I don’t want anybody’s family to worry,” he said. I wouldn’t even have thought about it that way, if it wasn’t for the boy. I felt bad. Selfish. Shocked that I was so selfish. And I felt this strange pride for the boy, even though I barely knew him.

Then I knew: kids do sometimes say the greatest things, and there’s no doubting that. I only wish I could’ve gone back and gave that kid a hug.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Starbucks, relaxing, and endless talking

There's something about listening to songs while writing.

I went out yesteday. Got up at six thirty AM, got dressed, caught a taxi and met up with a friend at seven thirty or so. After spending a while in her condo joking around and waiting for her to get dressed, we headed to the Starbucks just down the street in Plaza Mont'Kiara. She bought me a drink, and we chit-chatted about things, little and large, trivial and important. It was nice. Relaxing. I was more relaxed than when I'd stayed home all day and did absolutely nothing. It was nice out, especially since it was morning. Sky was bright blue, hardly any clouds, people all in a hurry, and we were leisurely sitting there and talking. Not in a hurry at all.

We used to do this during those days at the end of the semester, when we were allowed out of school between exams. Everyone else did last minute studying, while we headed to McDonalds, ate, and talked. We sneaked out of school during the last week, after exams had ended. It was the second to last day of school, while the others were watching some old movie, and I remember how we'd gotten caught by the guards but lied our way out of trouble. We used to just sit and talk and joke and tease and it was all fine and fun and more entertaining than any movie could be.

We talked about how we only had one year left at school. She teased me about how I was one of the youngest in our year and that I'd have the most trouble sneaking into clubs, and I teased her about being a ditz and her losing her card to her condo, that she'd have to squeeze through the bars of the gates yet again. She said I'd make the perfect teacher, that I'd frighten the kids into silence. She said she wanted to be a lawyer; I told her that that would be the ideal job for her, because she's always arguing. We have this odd relationship... we always tease each other, but really, we love each other. At least, I do.

We avoided the sad topics. About how we'd most probably not be able to see each other again after our last year ends, next June. We knew we wouldn't even be studying in the same country. She's not Malaysian; she's planning to study in Britain, and nowhere else. I'm Malaysian, but I won't be able to study in Malaysia, so I have this plan to migrate to Canada and study and have fun/party. She'll attend Oxford, she says, and will become a lawyer, and when I get into a load of trouble I could call her and we'd be this ass-kicking duo. Of course, I didn't fail to mention that she'd be the one getting into trouble instead of innocent me. We talked about moving, but didn't mention not seeing each other again. That didn't mean that we didn't think about that topic, though. I knew, she knew. The thought hung thick: we won't be able to do this again, and you know that. But to the both of us it seemed that, I think, if we didn't mention it, it wouldn't become concrete, solid. It was as if saying such a thought would turn it from a 'most probably' to 'inevitably'.

I told her that she wouldn't be able to live right across from school again. She told me that I wouldn't be able to eat all my favourite foods again. We continued to joke, to tease, talked about how cold it was in Starbucks and about her wanting to go to Bangsar that night and about everything and nothing and anything that popped to mind. Everything happy, anything but sad topics. Silence was rare, silence was golden, silence said everything we didn't say to each other. I'm not going to see you again after this year and so silence was to be avoided.

Some time later, we left. Talked. Wandered about. Talked. And all the while we avoided the topic that manifested itself in our silence. But we had to talk, avoid the silence, and we won't be able to do this again, and you know that.

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Don't run me over!

I'm on holidays right now, on a much needed break from school. Vacation started approximately a month or so ago, and I still have one more month to sit back and relax and do next to nothing. It gets boring after a while, though, and today I found myself wanting to go out and actually do something. Turned out there was some stuff I needed to get from Fajar (oh, what would I do without junk food?) so I went to the one near Damansara Uptown after lunch. It takes like five minutes or so for me to walk there, it's not too far.

The plan was to lepak around and do nothing, but, unfortunately, it started raining. So I actually went to Fajar - hey, it was just an excuse for me to drag my ass out of the house - and bought lots of stuff. Didn't rain for too long, so when the rain was less heavy, I decided to leave... and almost got hurt.

I nearly kena langgar by this police officer on a speeding motorbike when I tried to cross the road. Speeding! Right in front of Fajar, too, which is always really busy. Think about the innocent kids. Or about their parents. Hell, think about me! I don't want to die just yet. If it wasn't a cop, I would've thrown a stone at his head. Serves him right, then.

That made me think. Why does everyone drive so fast yet always arrive late? Really, it's mind-boggling. This happens even when a couple of friends and I hang out at 1U or Megamall - everyone arrives so late. It gets annoying waiting around.

And... Like at parties or whatever. People are always speeding, but arrive "fashionably late." Sheesh. Arrive earlier so I can ask for directions. Okay, okay, I'm sometimes guilty of arriving later than scheduled so that would make me a bit of a hypocrite, but that's because... well... I don't know, actually. That's the mind-boggling part. Maybe I should stop thinking before I get even more confused.

Monday, July 04, 2005

Thin, thinner, thinnest.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who's the thinnest of them all?
It's not just beauty anymore,
My arms are smaller than yours.
Less is gain and more is pain,
Help i'm speeding down a one-way lane.
I'm fine, I'm fine, I tell you I'm fine,
I'm not hungry yet, these thighs are not mine.
Saying, really I'm still full.
And skeletons are extremely beautiful.

Recently, I've been thinking about dieting. Not actually considering dieting, but just thinking about it... if it wasn't apparent from the tidbit above. My younger sister - despite all my efforts to dissuade her - has begun to diet after a friend called her 'chubby' (ugh, I'd like to see that so-called friend and... do... something really, really bad to her). According to my sister, semua of her classmates are cutting down on food... and I don't know whether to believe that or not. Aiyo. Since when is it normal for fourteen year olds to diet? Even more, since when is it normal for friends to call each other fat? (Grr.)

My working parents are hardly ever home. My brother, frankly, cares nothing about the matter, as long as whatever she does doesn't interfere with his football games and his going to the padang. This leaves me to take care of my sister... and it's always been that way. Recently, though, it's been getting alot more difficult for me to talk to her, what with me going to school in the morning and her going in the afternoon. Agh, I'm only sixteen, I shouldn't have to deal with all this crap.

Pressure's on me to somehow make her eat her Nasi Lemak during weekend mornings, and rice or noodles or whatever at night. How? I don't know. I mean, I've always been close to her and all, but I can't force her to do something she doesn't want... especially when it concerns food and the such. Unless I forcefeed her or something, I can't do a thing. That bothers me.

I understand why people diet. Hey, everybody wants to be thin, right? But what really troubles me is that I don't see how she's fat. She's thin and tall, if anything. I mean, to me, she doesn't look fat at all... She's, what, 110lbs at 5'5"? Which is normal for her age, I think. I also can't see why she would cut down on food just because of that one comment by her friend. She's THIN. Idiot.

Me, I can not diet. Never. I'd miss eating my Nasi Lemak, Chicken Rice, Prawn Mee, Roti Canai, everything. Malaysian food is just too good to give up. I learnt that the hard way. For three years, I had no access to true Malaysian food, and was limited to eating bacon and pizza and pasta and all that junk. (I'd pick spicy, delicious Malaysian food over that tasteless crap anyday. Mmm.)

As a kid, I used to hate eating. Really, really hated eating and anything to do with food. I don't know, I just didn't have the appetite. Even smelling food made me nauseous. So I was this really, really skinny kid, all sickly looking and ribcage protruding and such. My mother used to try and fatten me up with some Chicken Essence Soup thing, and milk that makes people put on weight. And then I began eating normally, though my memory is all hazy and I don't remember exactly what motivated me to eat. A few years later, we moved out of Malaysia and to the Northeastern part of US for three years. Then I realized what I was missing. Three years without Nasi Lemak was hell. Malaysian food is so fucking delicious and should not be taken for granted. And now... take away my food and I swear, I'll hit you.

So, really, I'm not able to diet. Not that I want to. But... I hope that my sister soon realizes what she's missing, and stop the dieting crap. She can do that when she's older, preferably when I'm at college or after I have moved out. Not now. Dieting is not for fourteen year olds.

And I'm still full,
because skeletons are beautiful.

Saturday, July 02, 2005

Cry, Batman, cry.

Okay, so we went out yesterday and bought Batman Begins at one of those cheap stalls that sell pirated DVDs for like RM10 or so. Forget watching it in the cinema, who would want to go to a cinema to watch a movie when there's all these DVD's out? Hehe. Okay, so, the nearest cinema is at 1U and it's only five minutes or so away, but the constant jam outside the car park, accompanied with the seemingly endless line of people purchasing tickets, is a mood-killer.

So I grabbed a Pringles can and put in the DVD and was horrified when the volume was SO FUCKING LOW. As in, I couldn't hear anything at all. Oh well, the downside of not going to the cinema, I suppose. I was finally happy with the volume and was able to hear what they were saying only when the volume on the TV was turned up the loudest - I sat there, watching the movie at volume 50, afraid that at any time the volume might return to normal and I'd go deaf. Imagine being next to a kid sitting on a blown up balloon, and you can't cover your ears because you've got to listen to your friend talking. Or if your hands are full. Yeah, that's how I felt.

It was... alright. Besides me cursing the TV for not going any louder, it was alright. But, really, it's next to impossible to make a good, mindblowingly awesome Batman movie. There's a reason, and is not just coincidence, why all Batman movies haven't exactly been #1, Spiderman-style hits. It's because the DC Comics people (bless their confused hearts) went and created one extremely DULL character as the main dude. You can't just have such a flat character as the protagonist, even if he does go around in that awesome flying car.

Batman? His parents died. He was a kid. I understand if the point of the movie was to go kill the murderer, or if he needs to get rid of all the RED HOT GUILT in him... but, hey, he didn't seem to be too bothered by guilt, and the criminal died in, what, ten minutes of the movie? What real conflict was there? Batman is more of a soulless puppet than anything. Flatty. The only conflict you'll find in Batman: his parents died. He's a multi-millionaire, and despite having this huge-ass house, he prances about in moonlight, posing as this incredibly raspy-voiced vigilante. There is just no depth in Batman. And yet we watch the movie and see the creators plead and try to make the audience understand his Batpain as he valiantly struggles onward to... do... something.

There were some funny lines, though... and some lines that made me raise an eyebrow and go WTF. Like this one: "Your parents' death was not your fault. It was your father's." Double-eww tee eff indeed. Oh, yeah, as if his father hadn't gone through enough.

But. Like. Many funny lines. Lines. Not scenes. I ended up doubled-over and laughing so hard at his emo Batvoice, all crackly and raspy with anger and sorrow. I feel sorry for the actor, and sincerely hope he had a very, very large supply of Strepsils at home after every such scene.

Place spandex on Batman and I still say he won't be as good as Spiderman. Can't blame whoever it was who produced/directed/whatevered the movie, though - props to them for trying.

The good part? The TV volume remained the same throughout the movie and I didn't go deaf afterall.

Oh. And. Does it come in black?

Note thing: I don't hate Batman Begins. At all. Though it may seem that way, I don't. I sorta maybe-kinda-enjoyed it, actually. It was quite alright. I just couldn't pass up the chance for something like this.

Something offtopic: A few days ago, Thursday, actually, we experienced this ridiculous traffic-jam sort of thing in and leading up to the BP petrol station. It took us 30 minutes to get petrol and get out. THIRTY MINUTES. For petrol! My sister kept on cursing and I don't blame her. AGH. We found out the next day that it was because people heard that the oil prices were going up, or something... but thirty minutes is just ridiculous.

Friday, July 01, 2005

Zombie dogs and World War III

What is the world coming to? I know, I know, overused phrase over there, so cliched and old and all that junk that it's not even catchy anymore. But that was exactly what I was thinking when I read this one article.

We've all heard of attempts to bring people back from the dead, and what not - hell, there's even a whole bunch of movies exploring that subject. We've all seen them: zombies, vampires, even ancient Egyptian mummies as seen in that movie with Brendan Fraser and Rachel Weisz. It's these movies, featuring creatures that rise from the dead, that explore and cultivate our fear of death and turn them into box-office movies. But we all know that such things cannot happen... right?

BEEEEP. WRONG. At least, according to this article. At first, I thought: PRANK. Immature kids playing with a website. But my suspicions were proved false, as I checked the URL: and was shocked when, lo and behold, it was from Reliable source? Most probably. Immature kids playing with a website? ... Nah, probably not. But, seriously, that's just bizarre. Not the good kind of bizarre, either, but the ultra-super-bad-kind.

So. Like. Many points, in no order of relevence, on why this is a fucking bad idea.

1. "US scientists have succeeded in reviving the dogs after three hours of clinical death, paving the way for trials on humans within years."

Okay, so. Think about that. What would happen if it falls into the wrong hands? I mean, if in the future there's a Hitler II, bigger and badder and more powerful than ever, and this time, is bent on killing everyone else besides blue-eyed, blond-haired Germans. What if this technology falls into his hands? Would you really want an immortal Hitler, who, even if you stab, poke, shoot him, would be able to survive? Okay, yes, the article only deals with saving those from death by bloodloss, but technology, medical technology included, is always undergoing change and improvement. An immortal Hitler? Fuck no, not a good idea.

2. Okay. So, like, let's freeze the person and then revive him again, and it'll all be fine and dandy.

WRONG. This might just start up a World War III -- this time, over religion. Bringing back someone from the dead raises a few concerns: Would the dead'un have met God, as is proposed in many holy scriptures? The dude did die, after all. Whether he met God or didn't meet God would disprove many religions, and there is no avoiding the subject after the guy is raised from the dead. This would only deepen the ridges between the religions. Do we really need less religious tolerance? What if they raise the guy back from the dead only to have him disprove all religions but one, and that religion would then become the all powerful ruling force? There'd also be a conflict about whether it's right to freeze him and then bring him back, as it'd break lots of religious rules and such. There'd also be this heated argument about God's intentions. Say a person loses lots of blood, and is frozen and officially dead, gets blood transplants or whatever, and brought back to life. There'd be this huge thing about God setting the person's fate, and that he was supposed to die right there and then and the scientists were not supposed to interfere, and stuff like that. This would be a controversial subject, perhaps even more than cloning.

Eventually, a whole bunch of people would get mad, non-believers and believers, and there would be a huge clash of religions. I can see it now in the topic-area of future textbooks: WORLD WAR III BEGAN DUE TO CARELESS SCIENTISTS. What would happen to those who have followed their religions for years, priests and monks and clerics and such of the disproved religions? Would they have anything left to live for? Would they go mad? Berserk? Forget War of the Worlds, this is War of the Religions.

3. We'd be putting a price on human life. Literally.

Imagine those too poor to pay for that medical treatment, which would, most probably, be expensive as hell. What would happen to them when told that, "Sorry, you can't afford your father/husband/daughter's life." Talk about trauma. What kind of torment would the poor family go through? How long would the guilt last? How would they feel, having a dear one's life not worth as much as others?

4. Okay, so, your neighbour, a mother, commits suicide one day and is up and walking again the next week.

She can't die if she wanted to, she'd most probably be looked disgracefully upon for leaving her children motherless and for doing what some view as a "despicable" act. Even more, what would it do to neighbours or YOU to see someone who was once dead up and walking again? What psychological effect would it have on her children, seeing their dear mother dead one second and alive the next? And, if she's done it once, she's bound to try it again, and her loved ones would have to endure twice the psychological trauma than if she'd never risen from the dead the first time. And, who knows, she might just rise again...

5. So your body is back -- but what about your mind?

Who's to say that, once you come back, your mind comes with you? I'm not sure if they can tell with dogs, but, hey, how would the brain function without oxygen and blood? If the person returns, how would we prevent the mind from rotting away into stupidity? Into insanity? How would a person feel being dead one moment and alive the next? Would he/she be reincarnated? What if the person is reincarnated, and only comes back as an empty husk? Would the person's soul come back with his/her body?

... Would your mind come back with the body? I sure wouldn't want to be a vegetable the rest of my life.

I see one benefit, and lots and lots of danger.

Really, don't people learn things from movies? No? Here's a quick lesson from Hollywood:


The End.