yeasty goodness

Since spambots are the only people* who read this blog, I feel like I can write things** in here with relatively inconsequential implications.

The problem with me is that I value verbosity as a sign of consciousness to the point of adopting this as a personal virtue to be upheld and cherished. This is perhaps why my family has stopped reading my blog — I am boring and incapable of being the subject of scandal. In real life, I have learnt that most of my Asian peers have a hearing range shaped by the intricate and delicate frequencies of music they listen to, such as the sparkly glitter music of Girls Generation, Avril Lavigne's artful and well-deliberated screeching, and the sexy, shrill whining of the Simple Plan boys. As a result of such cultivated listening tastes, they cannot hear me clearly, for puberty had gifted me with a low and obscure voice reviewed by some as the "gentle baritone of a dying cat's last breath", "a rhinoceros' silent fart" and "the sound raindrops make as they roll down sandpaper." If you have already heard about the very real social problem of Not Knowing What's The Maximum Number Of Times You Can Ask "What?" When Trying To Understand A Person, maybe it's time you heard the other side of the story — the one that ends with "and thus, the mute reached for the nearest chair and pummeled his friend bloody."

People with low voices are so often rejected by society. Society makes fun of their low voices, because apparently it's the funniest thing in their (tiny lil') world! Some employers have a minimum Hz allowance. Go below that and it's the blue-collared world for you, young'un, but of course it doesn't make you less of a person because every single worker has his own small and perfect role in society! When was the last time you heard a man's manly voice on the train's PA system? For me, this was approximately 18 months ago on the NY subway, but because I miss those times so much, it feels like 18 centuries ago. THAT'S RIGHT, IT HAS BEEN 18 CENTURIES SINCE I HEARD A MAN'S MANLY VOICE OVER THE TRAIN'S PA SYSTEM.  

This is why I have turned to written and visual forms of language and communication, packed in densely strung paragraphs, to express my personality and ultimately my being because that's how real conversation looks like. What is communicated in a a certain gesture, be it giveaway eyebrow twitching and a nervous wring of an arm-sleeve, takes the form of sentence structures so subtle in their intent that they pretend to hide what they really intend to reveal, and pretend to reveal what they really intend to hide. Take more time to process my sentences, why don't you. Sentence are awesome and I can do whatever I want with them, PSLE English be damned. 

* I like to adopt a very loose definition of "people"

** the vulnerable nakedness of my most primal insecurities