Esmond's Theorem

Esmond's Theorem is the written ideology governing the human psyche on laws of physical and emotional interdependency based on the inconclusive research of a 21st century revolutionary, Esmond Fish. This essay seeks to define Esmond's Theorem and to delve into its intricacies.

Esmond's Theorem states that all else being equal, an individual's attraction towards another individual is never unique; that is to say the coupling of two human beings is always frivolous and fleeting. The theorem therefore suggests that it would be impossible for longevity in any relationship that followed the conventional rules of dating and falling in love. Frustrated with this impermanence of relationships, Fish devised an austere system to judge their time-worthiness. He firmly believes that this system would create abundant economic and social gains, if followed strictly, by saving the human populace from immeasurable manhours lost and emotional distress that results from such impermanence.

This system is, simply put, a checklist of the critical ills that he theorized terminally plagued current social pairings. Below is the breakdown of its criterion:

1. Does the party involved engage in unecessary nocturnal activities that include loud music, short skirts, raging hormones and "jiggy jiggy"?

2. Does the party involved apply artificial substances to their visage in an act of superficiality?

3. Does the party involved wear inappropriate attire that bares more than their neckline?

4. Does the party involved profligately consume more than is required of a spartan lifestyle?

5. Has the party involved so much as let slip a straying eye on anyone remotely considered a mate-able option other than yourself?

6. Has the party involved ever mentioned any words that relate to the word "automobile"?

If the answer is "yes" or "probably" to any 1 of the questions, the relationship warrants an immediate failure.

Fish also denounced the notion of falling in love as heretic, and instead he proposed a pragmatic approach to handling relationships. In his papers, he wrote that even after a particular pairing passed his litmus test, the individuals involved should still err on the side of caution and remain platonic, preferably taking years to get to understand each other better before committing to anything more. Talks of marriage shouldn't even come into mind anything less than a decade.

His controversial theorem drew public outrage, ranging from publishing houses to feminist movements to plain old loving citizens. Fish argued in defence that the world just was not ready to get out of their comfort zones and blamed them for their cowardice in challenging the inertia of an outdated old-school thinking. His indignation and supposed reasoning did lead to some closet die-hard fanatics, but no one is sure of their numbers, as they face ostracism should they come out in the open.

Only time can tell how many are putting this radical theory into practice and succeed. And that will be a very long time indeed.

Dear diary,

These days, all I've been discussing with people around me is how love has evolved into something far more sinister, far more complicated and definitely less-than-fairytalelike from the simple, blissful ones that shaped our innocuous childhood. Maybe that's what growing up is all about. You understand that reality isn't just a game of hopscotch, or a stroll in the park, or the sharing of a chocolate malt, or a bedtime story that left you smiling in your sleep.

Yucks.

So love now has many strings attached. So a loving relationship's basis now is more than just "I love you, you love me". And that now it's next to impossible to proclaim love for love without being maced. Ok, all that I can understand, I understand perfectly that you can't really fall in love with someone just by clinging onto her lovely locks or smooching her when she's comatose. All that only happens in -dang- fables.

So what is my problem here? I seem to have understood what love actually is all about isn't it. I have no issues about the expectations that each and everyone has of their would-be partners. Sometimes even dalmations could fancy a pug or two. Everyone has their own fetishes and what really makes them tick. What really bothers me is this mighty little word commitment.

I liken relationships to peeling an apple. Deep down inside, everyone wants to peel the apple in one long continuous strip of skin. Don't ask me why, it just happens. Human psyche. Anyway as I was saying, peeling an apple usually is easier at first. Almost. As the peel gets longer, you start to lose focus, perhaps thinking why you are trying so hard doing something as inane as getting a perfect peel. When the attention is drawn away too long, the peel gets cut short inadvertently. Result: You fail to get a perfect peel. Duh. Two things can happen here - the person either tries to salvage that apple by trying to continue peeling from where he nicked off, or the person would just be unsatisfied with his imperfect apple peel and try to peel another apple. The peel represents the relationship, the level of concentration on the peeling process the commitment, and the silly act of getting a nice peel the love. Geddit? Stupid as this analogy might sound, and I agree to a certain degree that it really is stupid, it does hold some truth. Well, at least to me.

What I'm saying is, if you didn't get my drift, that a loving relationship, less all its expectations, would never be a lasting one if the parties involved weren't committed to it. Love and commitment are the key to a blissful union. Expectations change, people err, and that is by no fault of man, for we were never meant to be perfect. Love without commitment is like a ruffled arrow - it knows not when or where it lands. Commitment without love is like a fish out of water - suffocating and despondent.

For the betterment of mankind, please gag on your smelly socks whenever you think you are ever in -pffzt-"love", yet don't feel the innate desire to dedicate. Bollocks to you. Oh, and don't even let me start on the ozone hole.

Dear diary,

Just read 'Man and Boy' by Tony Parsons. A man who had it all, who eventually lost that all overnight which led him onto a road of rediscovery, slowly piecing his life back again in a wonderfully crafted story that is funny, tear-jerking and believable yet magical all in one. This novel played out life's realities without the melancholy, its joys without the naivety, and its complexities without obfuscating.


I love the way the author percepted human emotions so well, and manages to artfully insert this keen insight subtly throughout the pages, making the characters identifiable and real to the readers, and I was able to empathise and connect the whole time. He even managed to inject humour that was strangely appropriate in circumstances that were dreary.

Don't get me wrong, this isn't a book review, or at least it wasn't intended to be. It's just that this book gave me hope that despite life always has a way to screw you up big time, more so in this increasingly superficial and cynical world we live in, we can always find refuge in the simple pleasures in life: your first kiss, your baby's first step, the sight of flowers blooming in spring, the smell of washed tarmac after the rain, the warmth in home-cooked food, the tune of a familiar song from yesteryear. And yes, that even humour could be found in the worst of times.

As I slowly step out of my sheltered life into the real world, I'm sure that no matter how bleak life may seem in future, I can see it then as just transient clouds covering the glowering sun, that rainy days are always ensued by a beautiful rainbow and fresh air, and that growing up should open new doors, and not necessarily close the ones that came before. I'm glad I am alive.

Dear diary,

I know it's a little bit late for this now but this post's on my 21st birthday. Hey, what can I say, a procrastinator's still one whether he's 21 or not. Anyway let's not digress further. Yes, my birthday. It might seem contrived and perfunctory to say this, but it really was the best birthday I ever had.

The highlight of the entire event were obviously the people involved. My family members, especially my mum, hurried the whole day to make sure the steamboat was a steaming success. Ok, that was corny. But I sincerely am appreciative of their efforts. Not to forget my cliquemates, a rowdy motley crue that actually tamed themselves for my birthday. They also provided free-labour, pilfering the much needed chairs and tables from dubious sources - a much prized act of magnanimity by people who were supposed to be guests in the first place. Then there are the 3 beloved Charlie Angels, whose presence added much eye-candy to the otherwise lacklustre dinner. Not to be missed too were my wonderful classmates with whom I shared many a good times back at school. There's also my favourite girl Vonne mei - so glad she came despite feeling out of place, and of course Tess, the best girl chummy around.

Next on the list that made the birthday perfect are the presents. Wouldn't wanna lie. Let's see what I had:

Handmade lemon cheesecake with strawberry topping, probably tops the top 10 list of greatest birthday gifts ever. Ever. And it tastes great even. I love the handmade cards too, namely from CK, Tess and San, and a mega-sized card which housed the thoughts of my cliquemates of me. Fantastic. 3 best-sellers from my classmates, excellent for those cold lonely nights, and I think my brain does need some greasing. The oh-so-expensive-why-the-heck-did-you-guys-spend-so-much-money AX clothes from the clique and a LaCoste polo from my campmates. Extravagant. And yes, I appreciate the soap and facial wash too, I get the hint. Also I dunno if they would kill me for mentioning this but they shouldn't really, cuz I liked it too, which was the Taboo game the girls gave. Hope there'll be an occasion where we could play it together. I mean, the girls don't think I'll be playing it alone do they. Oh and there's the lava lamp. Who doesn't love a good o' lava lamp? There are only 2 kinds of people in the world, people who love lava lamps and liars. Finally there's the Kinokuniya vouchers by my ever-thoughtful mei.

I'm just so thankful for all who turned up. They're the people who ever mattered to me and it's just wonderful to have them around on an important milestone in my life. This post sounds like a bloody acceptance speech I know, but it isn't. Mind me, I'm just a very happy 21 year old adult.

Dear diary,

Today's Victor's birthday. His 21st. The first in the clique to come of age: Adulthood.

21 always seem to be of impossible reach, an age that I've been looking forward to, yet hoping will never arrive. Now seeing a friend reach adulthood, time never felt so real before. Very soon, in just mere weeks, I would set off too onto this new foreign path, to fully bear responsibilities for myself and others around me. I can no longer make excuses for my own doings, and am expected to behave maturely and thoughtfully within the boundaries of social conventions. 21 is an age that gives freedom but ironically takes back so much more. Perhaps I wouldn't be so morose now if I hadn't squadered my youth, if I had more foresight and had spent it fruitfully, to have lived a fulfilling and successful life, to have spent more effort forging stronger ties with people I love. Ah yes, if only. It is immature to look back at all the ifs that we would've wanted in retrospect, and this is not an age for immaturity.

Everything becomes so clear suddenly, the veil of denial forcefully lifted from my eyes. I see the greying on my mom and dad, how weathered they have become, how over the years I've took for granted that they'll be around for as long imaginable. I see my friends at the crossroads, making life decisions that would seperate and challenge our allegiance and its strength. I'm not complaining about my life. I've had wonderful moments, I've wonderful people around me. It's just regret knowing that for 21 years I had the chance to experiment, mould and learn, to love, capacitate and respect, yet failed miserably in.

I have run out more than a quarter of my life, now I sift through the sands that had slipped away, in search of my achievements. Nothing. Nothing that impacted or changed anyone's life for the better. Nothing that made me proud or worthy. You might argue that I'm overly-critical. Everyone must've done something. Yes, maybe I did, but when I look at the whole picture as an observer, hovering high and above all physicals, I see my life as incoherent specks and dots that don't connect and represent or convey anything. I don't see what I was living, or had lived for.

It's time to age gracefully my boy, time to be in stewardship of life and not sit on the fence watching it play out by itself. Therein the future lies.