Dum Dee Dum... I am not a super hero neither am i spiderman. I am going to save the world... like as if you would believe. I am a maniac. I came from an outer space which is filled with water. I learn swimming at the age of zero.I wail like a cry baby. I crawl like spiderman, i fly like superman, i drive like batman. I live in wonderland. Rugrats is my friend, so is peter pan.
One of the ways I've discovered to improve language skills is to talk to yourself. I do that all the time. I carry on conversations in my head all the time, with people who are hyper-interested in the mundane events of my ordinary life. I carry out these conversations in french, english and chinese. Narcissism is apparent again, through the way I want people to be interested in my boring life and find it interesting (therefore I invent these imaginary people). I don't talk out loud though; I have no wish to be declared weird.
I can't work. I can't bring myself to make my mind work. I have this inexplicably inane fear that if I force my mind to work, I will start to cry. So I cannot tackle Stephen Hawking, nor Henry D Thoreau, nor ABRSM Theory of Music Grade 6 which Jiahui got me, neither can I get to work writing some stuff for her to work on, ditto the Shakespeare essay I've been planning for months. So all I do is log on to this fantastic site Blackmask and read the translated version of Maurice LeBlanc's detective stories, or rather, ingenious anti-hero stories. I guess that shows how I've degenerated. I read Cyrano de Bergerac in french. I finished a few chapters of Candide in french. How hard can it be to read LeBlanc in french? Though of course, not having the french version handy by me gives me a good reason to just read the easy-on-the-mind English translation. I should probably visit the library tomorrow and get a copy of Antony and Cleopatra to read. It should be an easy, though seemingly cheem read. At least it's better than reading bimbo books with pink covers though they're quite amusing and touching sometimes in the sense that they always have happy endings. i guess almost everyone's life should have a happy ending, but that's a stereotype which I should not make, because obviously there can't be happy endings for everybody.
To tell a little more on LeBlanc and Arsene Lupin. I would say that its parallel is Hercule Poirot, Agatha Christie's on-the-side-of-the-law ace detective. Arsene Lupin's the master Robin Hood kind of burglar. Put the two together and you would have Poirot solving Lupin's burglaries, except that most of Poirot's cases involve murders and Lupin never kills. He is, however like most men, susceptible to the female sex and displays the chivalry that I have been led to believe is typical of frenchmen, in giving up his life and freedom to save the lady in distress. Of course, he is never killed, never arrested. Even when arrested, he invariably manages to escape. Similarities between him and Poirot would be their extraordinary observation skills and mental capacities, like that of Sherlock Holmes. Other than that, he is suave, where Poirot is comic. In fact, he even bares a little resemblance to the unfortuante sidekicks, Watson and Captain Hastings. Lupin however, does not operate with a sidekick, as far as I can remember. He always has companions but they vary from time to time, never the same people. Probably so as to keep his identity a secret, after all he's on the wrong side of the law. Reminiscent of Zorro?
Maybe all these heroes and anti-heroes are related.
It is also interesting to note that of all the early detective stories I've read, none of them feature female heroes that I can think of. Probably women found it extremely difficult to get onto the scene of crime and all that in those days and it wasn't feasible to have a female lead detective who obviously can't do anything in the days of being chaperoned around.
