Boiling Point

The recent reports of India being hit by heatwaves of up to 52 degCel has left me reeling.

Why the heck should I be? Aren't we bombarded by global warming warnings and hasn't it been shoved in our faces by billboards, thru the media, and by Mr. Scorch every minute of the day?

In this matter, I would say, I am one of the living dead. I hear it, see it, feel it, but ain't processing it or doing anything about it. 'Cos somehow it still did not register as 'critical' in my skull's tenant, 'The Brain'.

Causation: 'The Brain''s slow death is marked by its retardation, general lethargy, throbbing pain, shortened tempers, and immense sensitivity to bacteria.

Let it be on the record that I have been trying to live by the saying "Live today like it is the last day of your life; but let tomorrow be better than today." ... or something along that line... loosely translated from the Chinese language.

I just CANNOT ignore how global warming has affected my quality of life anymore!!!

I cannot be in the open air for 2 minutes without being drenched, in perspiration.
I cannot go without replenishing water in-take for half an hour, tops.
Headaches bounce off me like I'm a goalpost.
I fall victim to whatever virus that happens to be circulating at that particular moment.
It takes more out of me to go anywhere with my loved ones.
Even smoking is an ordeal, under Mr. Scorch's critical eyes.

Is it just me? Call me frail, fragile, pampered? I don't think so. Look around you, and look at yourself. Ain't it happening to almost everyone?

Alright, I know. People are dying over in India, and I am complaining about headaches. Things happen in stages, man (sometimes exponentially). What is to become of us in 5 years' time? I dare not speculate. On a small scale, there is our day to day struggles; on a bigger scale, just look at how hard the Asian Tsunami hit home.

No, I do not have any solution, suggestions, or wise-cracks. This is my blog, and I can write whatever I want. This is not a report, nor a proposal, so do not expect "recommendations" below, or for it to have a politically-correct, commercially-viable ending. This is my own playpen.

You see? I am cranky already. I can only say, Mr. Scorch, you've GOT my attention, all right.