Leave something for me and my imagination.

You know those girls who wear the tiniest of shorts, yet bundle up with heavy sweaters or windbreakers on top? Specimens can be frequently spotted in libraries studying, or polytechnic/university lecture halls. It makes you wonder if they have such an abundance of leg hair that their legs are nice and toasty, but their upper bodies are freezing. It's the same concept as the vest.

In this episode of The Simpsons, The Haw-Hawed Couple, Bart befriends the neighbourhood bully, Nelson. Nelson then offers Bart his trademark vests. Bart's best friend, Milhouse, asks Bart why he wears a vest. Bart then retorts, "Because my chest is cold and my arms aren't!"

I realised that real life people (i.e. my acquaintances) actually do have very active imaginations. And it's of the very stylized variety, where they imagine they are superheroes or cartoon characters. Speaking of which, I don't understand why people develop crushes on cartoon characters. It's so weird. I can't develop a crush on a two-dimensional drawing.

I think I have a fairly active imagination, but I've never really put myself in the shoes of some larger-than-life character. Most of the time, my imaginings are limited to the people I interact with. For example, I tend to imagine what could have happened if I said something different - maybe that would alter the entire course of the relationship? I also frequently imagine a variety of responses to a fixed scenario. Recently I was thinking about flirting - flirting with strangers, to be specific. Let's say I attempt to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger by acting like a complete klutz and saying, "Sorry, but do you know how to go the the blood donation centre?" (Let's assume that I'm already at Outram Park MRT station.)

Here are three possible scenarios I've came up with.

A) Er, no. Sorry.
B) Yes, I do. This is how you go there. (recites verbal instructions)
C) Yes, I do. I'm actually heading there as well, why not we go together?
D) Yes, I do. I don't have anything on now, so I might as well walk you there.

I would say that B is the most likely scenario, and D the least likely. In fact, if D happened, you'd he's either super nice or super desperate. Or maybe both.

Of all situations, clearly C is optimum for further flirting. There's so much to talk about! How often you two have been donating blood, why did you get started on donating blood, etc. You've already got a conversation planned out for you. But seeing how C is quite an unlikely scenario as well, one has to contemplate a response in the event of scenario B.

1) Thanks for your help! (go separate ways)
2) *open eyes wide* Hmm... *tilts head to side* Okay... *blinks hard* (in the hope that by acting like a damsel in distress, he will offer to walk you there)
3) I still don't get it. Can you take me there, pretty please? *grins brightly*

In order of likeliness, it's 1, 2 and 3.

Despite having imagined all this, I still haven't really figured out a fool-proof way of talking to a stranger. Sucks, huh. Despite having gained nothing, I haven't actually lost anything. At least I'm saved the potential embarrassment of screwing up in front of a stranger. Thought experiments are so usefully useless.

I've been imagining ways to start talking to people without actually succumbing to small talk like the weather, or school. It's insanely difficult.

Anyway I've decided that I could be a sociopath.

"It should be no surprise that the sociopath typically feels no qualms of lost integrity when he violates some generally accepted moral dictum."

That must make me a sociopath! Hmm. Sociopaths are supposed to be characterised by their lack of conscience. But do they really? I'm thinking that it's just really really suppressed, and at extreme times such as when they are teetering on the edge of death, they experience a moment of lucidity and their conscience hits them like a brick. I'm just thinking the Cardinal in Duchess of Malfi.

But it seems like sociopathy is a relative concept. How does one ever know if another person lacks a conscience? Just because he behaves as if he doesn't doesn't mean that he doesn't think badly of his actions. Attitude doesn't always correlate to actions. But that's non-falsifiable, so we'll never know. It's simpler to assume that how one behaves or how one claims to think is how he really is. Parsimonious, even. Behaviourist approach to studying human psychology, huh.

Read more about sociopaths here.

I've also been thinking about proms and my birthday, both of which will only occur much later in the year. What Erica said about prom made sense. Prom isn't about the food. Nobody goes to prom for the food. What makes prom prom is the pre-prom preparations (rolling and unvoiced plosive alliteration, woot): scouting for dresses, shoes, accessories; the hairdressing and make-up sessions, the camwhoring, the people. However, the people that I hang out with in school don't seem like those who care too much about clothes, and may not even turn up at all.

So what is the point of going for prom? For me, at least. There isn't much of a point for me. I suggested to Erica, maybe we should crash other JC's proms together. That sounds like a fun prospect in theory.

So yes. My thoughts on prom.

As for my birthday, I am somewhat glad that one of my papers fall on that day. That certainly saves me the trouble of having to think of how to celebrate it. And hopefully I'll be so preoccupied that I don't even remember it. Nah, that's not gonna happen. I always wish that I'll forget when my birthday is, but when the day comes, I will remember it, and with such an agonising acuteness. Turning 18 is supposed to be monumental, isn't it? I wish I could sleep through the day, though.

Earlier this year I made Jason promise to wish me happy birthday. On retrospect I really shouldn't have done that. It's only going to be further disappointment if he forgets. And even if he does remember, he could be doing it purely out of obligation. Damn. Never make people make promises. There's nothing good to be gained out of it. Only disappointment from having your hopes dashed, or at the very best, a false, empty, contrived contentment.

I know it's a bit premature to be talking about my birthday, but I figured it's safer to air my grievances about it now when it's still a comfortable distance away, as opposed to later in the year when the glaring reality of the impending day hits home.

Why must birthdays happen so often? Can't it be bieannial, or even better, once every decade?

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I braided my hair.