Sing and Drink and Make Merry

Ah, a marvellous steak followed up by three hours of karaoke at chinatown. This is what my life should be about. Not so much the perpetual drunken parties and binges we Singaporeans seem to be known for in the U of C. It's quite unpleasant, really, to be known for such things. Not that it's not an accurate representation though. The Singaporean guys are 21 or 22, and have been partying for a while. Still, not the best thing to be known for, the 'crazy Singaporeans'.

I sometimes wonder why people, especially myself, drink. Is it merely for the high? A need to numb the senses? Perhaps merely an attempt to blend in socially, then the attempts to blend in become assimilated into the person's own consciousness. The truth is that, at least for me, none of the above are true. I drink for no reason other than to drink. The alcohol itself has become an end in itself. I don't particularly enjoy the taste of vodka or rum, nor do I enjoy the initial high, nor do I think becoming inebriated endears myself to anyone. I drink because I drink. It may not do too much for me, but it is simply a thing I do, similar to grinding my teeth, or cracking my knuckles. There is no reason for my actions. If analysis and agency were to be attributed to everything I do, it would be spectacularly irrational. Ridiculous.

Ah, people complain I digress too much, so I will not. I really am a bit strung out from a bad week, so I will simply end with a note that karaoke seriously rocks. Seriously, seriously rocks. Morton's of Chicago does as well. The Porterhouse is ridiculously good, especially the steak carved for two. Desserts are a bit lacking though.