Verbal Gurgle

It's been quite a while

2007-10-18T11:01:00.000+08:00

Dear Mr. Astronaut,

I wanna be just like you. I wanna go to space, and float around, conducting experiments. I like the idea of a silver top spinning around for ever and ever. Imagine the benefits of the lack of gravity on life on earth. Imagine if I managed to find a cure to cancer in space! Now there is hope for the millions of people with cancer to find a cure! We just have to send all of them to space at a cost of RM30 Million each for the treatment to work!

I wanna be able to grin in front of cameras, and talk to the prime minister as well. I wanna be able to tell my chef friend (from space!) that I adore him too and wanna be with him no mater what and that our business will continue to grow and grow and grow, just like our affection for each other.

I want the government to spend money on me too, all RM 30 Million of it. After all, the government already spends millions on government scholars who never come home to serve the country anyway. I don’t care about overspending in the government and budget deficits, because this is sure as hell something worth doing for my country. Our country. We are officially a developed nation now because we have sent someone to space.

Wowwee, it must be a great feeling to be the first Malaysian in space. Oh, I’m hearing that they want to send a Malaysian woman to space now. Do you think that there might be a higher chance of me qualifying for the vacation trip if I became a woman? Mr. Astronaut, I wanna be just like you. You inspire me. You make me love Malaysia more. You inpire me to become a rocket scientist cum astronaut. I feel like quitting my job now. You light up all our lives. On behalf of Malaysia, thank you for the RM30 million well spent.

Railmaster 5000

2007-04-07T09:23:00.000+08:00

Altogether now!

I've been working on the railroad
All the livelong day
I've been working on the railroad
Just to pass the time away

Can't you hear the whistle blowing
Rise up so early in the morn
Can't you hear the captain shouting
Dinah, blow your horn

I've started building my railroad. Finally. Question is, have you?

Sensational!

2007-03-04T11:42:00.000+08:00

Sensasi! If you havent seen it, click on the link. Credit to YouTube and the guy who posted it on YouTube. Jobless people do have a purpose in life afterall.

Now, this baffles me. Following the statement that actress made about older women marrying younger men, they've subsequently decided to ban her from any TV or radio programs for a year and to also ban the tv show responsible for airing her live. As with all things muslim and passionate, I simply think they've overreacted, AGAIN.

Oh, do I hear someone saying that she wasn't talking about just ANY old woman. Yeah, that's true, she happened to talk about Prophet Muhammad's wife. Then again, consider the following:
1. Seeing how the life expectancy of people of that time to be about what? 60 years for men, and ZERO for women (this is well documented from the many history text books of our time depicting Islam as the saviour of the barbaric female baby killing tribes of Arabia), I do not see how describing a 40 year old woman as "dah nak mampos" to be inaccurate, though crude it may seem.

2. Would we be just as rilled up if for instance, the actress was to talk about any other 40 year old woman and described her as "dah nak mampos"? In fact, we would have laughed our asses if she made fun of another actress who happened to be doing the same thing. Hence, in Islam, and in equality, which is a strong point of Islam, why do we treat the cases seperately?

3. Respect by way of association. We respect the Prophet's wife, because of that. She was the prophet's first wife. I am sure as hell that she was a nice lady, strong, honorable, yada yada and all, but seriously, I don't know how she is in real life. There are almost no accounts of a terrible version of her, something to tip the scales in the other direction. So, by way of brainwashing, we have been forced to respect her, because of her association to the Prophet. Fine. But does this mean that I have to respect a certain son-in-law of Pak Lah justttt because he married into PakLah's family, and is therefore, to be respected based on association? In the same manner, if your father was the ex-PM of this country, does that mean I am supposed to respect you a little more than the average joe out there? COME ON PEOPLE!

See what I mean by getting riled up for no apparent reason? We are supposed to be concentrating on getting the people together and united, and yet, here we are, finding time to ban an actress and fuck her up just because she slandered a woman who has been dead for 1400 years. In the midst of our passion and faith in any religion, we have still got a responsibility to critically and constructively analyze all situations, as accurately as we can. It is extremely easy to be angry at someone or something. The difficult part is understanding why the other person acted that way. Same goes for that bunch of cartoons about the Prophet.

When, if ever, will muslims learn that this world is changing? Does anyone truly want to continue living in a time warp?

Responsible Blogging

2007-02-28T21:18:00.000+08:00

A great friend of mine, the "successful" blogger/journalist politikus, had this to say about irresponsible blogging.

It got me thinking. All of 5 minutes at that, before I came to the following conclusion.

Bah.

I cannot give a shit about responsible blogging. I cannot even give a rat's shit about what other people think, feel, act, and want to do to me. I ENJOY slandering/ mud-slinging/ backstabbing/ defaming persons/groups/organizations out there. I ENJOY it even more if I think they deserve it. And so what if they decide to slander me back. Boo Hoo Hoo. They have every right to defend themselves, as I have a right to slander their asses off the face of this earth.

I can say whatever I damn well please here. You can do whatever you damn well want to. Slander me if you want, damage my name if you need to. So what. This world is not going to end just because I said some words. And neither is it going to stop just because you think your shitty assed reputation has been tarnished. I am quite sick and tired of having to toe the line everyday, of being politically correct, of looking after peoples feelings. If you decide to sue me, so sue me. I will make it the worse day of your life. I will fight every inch of the way. I will make sure your mother and family drowns with me. Bullshit to the person who says that everything is business. Personal attacks rocks.

A friend of mine who had recently joined the government service had to delist my blog from her webpage because she doesn't want me to get into any trouble with the government. She says that upon joining certain ministries, a very thorough background check is done. This includes checks on friends, blogs, and of course, friends' blogs. (Privacy? Privacy my ass). Very nice and thoughtful of her actually. More likely though, and I do not blame or keep a grudge on her for doing this, is because a person who is found being a friend of a "radical" like me, would most likely not end up with a nice rosey career in the government service. She's a nice dear old friend, so we are still friends. Won't begrudge her of denying our friendship, if she has to.

I want to be known as the person who started the riots, the person who led a revolution, the person who always fights for what he thinks is right. I'd much rather be known as that than the polite insignificant joe who died peacefully. If I have to be detained by the ISA, or charged under the OSA or whatever "A" they have out there, then so be it. I would much rather be known as the person who stood against the rotting damnation of the people who lead this country and are in power, than quibble and shrink and toe the fucking line.

Speaking of which, fucking UMNO is at it again. This time squatting on some piece of land. MBSJ acts on them and guess what they decide to do? Erect large BN flags and banners. Just like what those motherfucking squatters in Kerinci and Abdullah Hukum do whenever someone threatens to evict them. The irony can kill you sometimes, especially after BN led Selangor had set a target of ZERO squatters by next year was it?

Who the fuck do they think you are? As a matter of fact, who the fuck made them leader of the pack? Fucking morons. I intended to vote for BN the last I remembered. I am fast thinking of just scrapping the entire idea of voting altogether, seeing how I do not like the opposition much either. And now do you know why there is voter apathy and dwindling voter percentages?

The country is digressing. I need to expedite my exit. 2nd class citizen in a first class country, or 1st class citizen in an ever degrading 3rd class shit hole. Hmm. Don't get me wrong. I love my country. I just happen to dislike what is being done to it. Not everything. Just the things that matter to me.

P.s. I'm not like this in real life you see. I just plot devious schemes without saying a darn word.

EQ

2007-01-18T17:41:00.000+08:00

*In the calmest, of calm tones, I am hoping that people would be able to read between the lines*

Almost everyone raves of the 6 year old who can paint pictures beyond his years, or the 15 year old who graduated with a double degree from some fancy schmancy university. We seem to be in awe of those who manage to do what none of us could even dream of at that age, let alone carry out when we are much older. We can all agree that the human brain would have to be mature in order to digest and achieve such feats. Somehow though, all the achievements above seem more and more trivial as we get along in life.

I am not trying to play those achievements down, as individually, each achievement on its own is absolutely wonderful and special. However, I seriously couldn't care less about those achievements. I am however, more interested in another kind of maturity. The emotional kind. I know so many people who may think like an adult, certainly look like adults, but have the emotional maturity of a baby elephant (non-existant, for those of you trying to figure out the analogy). It doesn't bloody matter if you can get into an intellectual conversation about politics in the Balkans, if you can't even hold your own when life gets a little difficult on you.

I think this is the reason why they prefer to promote married people. Married persons are often deemed more stable. More secure. More.. you guessed it, emotionally mature. You may have an IQ of 1000, but if you don't have any EQ, you're about as useful to anyone, not just a company, as dust on the carpet you walk on. Emotional maturity, to me, enables a person to better use his intelligence, to be able to go through the day without feeling like it's the end of the world, to for once, think that the world doesn't bloody revolve around him/her alone. As you might have guessed, the key, I feel, is to not allow your emotions to swing like a wild pendulum, trying to knock over everyone around you.

Yes, everyone is entitled to their breakdowns, but to wallow in self pity, to purposely sabotage themselves, to even prefer to be edgy, is just being too much. At the end of the day, all that you are doing, is becoming an absolute liability to those around you, be it your family, friends, colleagues, bosses etc. Before long, no one would want to be associated with you, simply because no one can tolerate you (because you're a pain in the ass). Think what you may, do as you want, but other people can only tolerate so much of your moodswings.

Fuck off and die if you feel like it, instead of just threatening suicide. Otherwise, put on a fucking smile and be happy that your mother hasn't died of AIDS and that you're not dying of malnutrition and hunger.

"Nak Hidup, Segan, Nak Mati, Tak Mau". PIIIIIII LAHHH.

(Translated Loosely: Shy to live but don't want to die)

If you think the above is about you, well, stop being so self-centered. I'm just making a general observation on life. I too, am working on my EQ afterall.

Want that?

2007-01-15T21:34:00.000+08:00

How come, in the certainty of our lives, can no one tell me what they'd want in the future? It seems that for all the wants of the present, which people do not have any qualms about airing, that there isn't an equal want for any time in the future? Have we come to an extent where we are so preoccupied with the present and the past, that we cannot spare a second to think of the future?

Case in question. I work for a shipyard. Every year, the shipyard procures mesmerizing amounts of steel, pipes and other equipment. Yet, for the love of god, not a single person can tell me what they'd wanna buy beyond a week from now. Everybody sure as hell knows what they wanted yesterday, last week, or even last month, but no one can tell me what they'd want tomorrow for instance, or two weeks from now, let alone a quarter or a year from now. Why is that? Why is so much energy being put into what we need at the current moment, so much so that there's little, if any energy being put into what we MIGHT need in the future?

Everyday, we fight a battle to get through the day. Everyday, all we seem to be able to do, is ensure that we live to reach our beds at night, only to wake up loathing war the next day. Very few of us actually seem to make it a point to ponder, before bed for instance, what we can do to win the subsequent battles, what we can do now, that would pay dividends later.

My ex girlfriend once told me that if we did not live the present, that there would be no future. I of course, had no reply for her, because she is that kind of person. She lives for the present. She knows what she wants, but only what she wants today, and what she wanted yesterday. We were essentially two very different human beings, one concentrating on the present, and the other, on the future. Neither of us saw eye to eye on most matters. Neither of us have ended up wrong. I think.

Now that the future has come, how prepared will any of us be for it? Have we even done enough in the morning, to ensure an easier evening? Or were we too occupied resolving yesterday's issues? Today will become yesterday, tomorrow. We can either live today like it is tomorrow, or live today like it will be yesterday.

Yeah yeah, Just read It.

2006-12-16T22:05:00.000+08:00

It's december, and I am in the mood to make some enemies. Actually, not in the mood, but I intend to poke some sensitive buttons anyway.

Warning, if you haven't an open mind, please do not read the following. Having said that, I know I've just inevitably told a 4 year old that he can't have cookies before dinner, right in front of a cookie jar, with my back turned away. It is how I have been perceiving things, but if I see it that way, there's got to be a problem right? Here goes.

You racist bastards. Yeah it's fine to be racist. The minute we pop out of our mother's white/black/yellow/brown bellies, we are racist anyway. We've certainly been brought up that way. Since I could remember, my parents have been reminding me that I am of a certain race, and should act that way. Ever since I could remember, my parents have been telling me to get more friends of a certain race. I am so bloody sure that YOUR parents would be alarmed the minute you've veered towards friends of a certain race. Actually, your parents would have been alarmed if you're non-muslim with many many malay friends, and vice-versa. So, with every action, or inaction, you've become a racist, whether you realize it or not. With every subtle suggestion from your parents, you've inched your way toward racistdome. Take heed in the fact that at least you're being a temple going, mother loving son.

Just because I eat pork, drink alcohol and gamble my savings away doesn't make me a freak. You do not have to treat me like one, just because you've been living in your own little racist/supremist world that you've never seen a malay eat pork/gamble/drink. Just because you think you know malays/muslims do not eat pork, and am automatically sensitive about those issues around malays doesn't make you any smarter than you think you are. In fact, by being sensitive AND assuming that malays do not do any of the above "vices" inevitably makes you a racist fucker. Why? It's all because you're assuming that we do not do any of the above, and do not offer us the opportunity in enjoying any of the above. Who made you special, joe?

Are you so fucking threatened and afraid that you've lost what has made you special in this country? Are you so fucking afraid that by knowing malays who eat pork/drink/gamble, you've lost everything that has made you, you, and have given the malays some sort of invisible advantage? "Fuck, not only do they get all the scholarships and fucking 7% discounts on housing, they have to invade my restaurants as well?".

Imagine this. While you were growing up, you knew you were non-muslim because you ate pork, gambled, drank alcohol and prayed in anything either than a mosque. You identified a malay/muslim by what he ate/drank, and by his uncanny characteristic at being slow and lazy. Most of all, you've identified a malay by how he has gotten around the country just on pure "kulit-fication" (skin-color-qualification for those of you not in the know). You resented all that, but remained blind, because you thought that you had the upper hand by being smarter and being able to do everything a malay can't.

What happened when someone like me comes along is that the status quo changed. Nobody likes it when the status quo changes, because, obviously, those who thought they were superior no longer are. Those who felt that they could do what no other person could do, no longer feels that way when he is joined by those who previously couldn't do it. You're not happy when I am eating at the same table as you in a non-halal restaurant. You just simply loathe it, because I've taken away what was special to you. You resent it so much, that you simply must remind me that I am a malay eating pork/drinking/gambling. You loathe it so much, that you must tell all your other friends that you know a malay who does all of the above. You hate it so much, that you have to make it a point to order pork/beer during meals, just so that you can have the twisted pleasure of showing everyone that this fucker of a malay eats pork and drinks beer. You fucking son of a bitch. You don't even realize that you've made a fool of yourself, AND made your friend look like a circus act.

How uncomfortable do you think I am, having to perform a circus act every single time we eat with other people? How uncomfortable do you think I am, not quite being accepted as a malay because I do not behave like one, yet not being accepted as chinese, because I do not speak the fucking language and was born with a malay name? I do not have to even mention the Indians, because I get funny looks when I walk to an estate to get my todi.

Don't worry, I do not blame you for being the mindless racist/supremist that you are. You've just been brought up that way. It's ok. Just because I am your friend, I do not mind performing circus acts. What I do mind, is that you just think I am a melayu-busuk (rotten malay), instead of just another one of your friends. I've got news my friends, I am not that special anymore, and neither are you. What you can do, I can do. When your parents told you that you're better than the malays and that you have to work harder, they were lying to you. All they wanted was for you to be the same as them, bigots and racists. Of all people, I learned from a racist/supremist bigot, that the job of a parent is not to make his children like him, it is to ensure that his children are better than him. So please be better than your parents. The world is changing, keep up or lose out.

Oh, and being tolerant, is NOT not being racist. It is merely ignoring, and ultimately believing that everyone has a right, to be a supremist/racist. And if ever anyone mentions that being tolerant is the equivalent of integration, so help me God, I will hit you so hard at the back of your head that your neck will be at your forehead and your eyes will be 20 feet away.

p.s. Notice how I use malay/muslim interchangably? It's because our racist government had intended it that way. Look at our fucked up constitution's definition of a Malay. Just so you know, our racist government doesn't refer to a malay government, but refers to a government that INCLUDES chinese and indian ministers and racially segregated parties, all filled with so called "grass-roots" who are hell bent on preventing integration and change. Oddly, the two most guilty parties are UMNO and MCA. To think that we were counting on them.

p.p.s This is a disclaimer. Not all my friends are guilty of the above. Very many, infact, aren't. But if you feel that I am being harsh, then you immediately ARE guilty of the above. Fuck you if you think you're special and above the rest. But I'd still be your friend anyway, if you want to.

Tatts

2006-10-04T18:27:00.000+08:00

A friend was blogging recently about getting new tatts. So it got me thinking. I had been wanting to get a new one for quite a while now. At first I thought I had the right design, but now I am not so sure. Any ideas anyone? It's gotta be unique thats for sure. Money, is temporarily, no object. I just want something that would make people go WOAH! in a good way of course.

Beliefs

2006-09-17T22:06:00.000+08:00

Have you ever woken up in the morning, thinking you've got your whole life figured out? You used to have all the answers at your fingertips, and everything at your feet. These are the issues that I used to believe otherwise in, but that I cannot continue believing in now.

1. KL public transport does not suck. I used to think that it was unreliable, but truthfully, it was just me that was being unreliable. Busses do come on time, its just that I do not.

2. Nothing is to blame for anything. I am absolutely in control of what I do. I prefer to blame other things and other people, because it puts me as a victim. I like being a victim because I like sympathy.

3. Doing good onto others will eventually lead others to do good unto you. And vice versa. Yes it pays to do good. At the very least, you feel good about yourself.

4. Friends are not everything. True, the good ones are there when you need them, but really, if I don't make an effort, I am a forgotten man. So, I control my friendships don't I? I just have to continue being there don't I? I guess the next question is until when.

5. Parents are to be cherished. Yes. The older you are, the more you'd appreciate them. Really.

6. Friendships do have an expiry date. Especially if the other side refuses to renew it. However, you can renew for both parties right? Can you?

7. Money is abundant. You just have to know when and where to put it. The concept is revolving credit.

If you think about it, theres nothing that you believe in that we can continue believing in, because they are merely beliefs. Something that we thought to be true, but is not. If it were to be true, it'll have to be a fact. It'll have to be true 100% of the time, no matter where you are. Which brings me to another question. Some scientific facts are only true on earth. So can you still call them facts when they aren't true when you're not on earth anymore? So its merely a scientific belief then. Not a scientific fact. See? Beliefs are so easily disproven. What can we believe in anymore? And what of the biggest belief in the world, the belief in God and Religion?

Psychology

2006-08-31T19:37:00.000+08:00

If I had another shot at choosing my career path, I think I would have embarked in a career as a bitching column facilitator. You know, like Thelma of the "Dear Thelma" fame.I think I have the talent for it, and most important, I think I understand people. More important than most important, I think I have the great ability of bringing the best, or worst out of people. Yeah, I'm not god, and I don't aim to be, but I think most of the time, I am able to point people in the right direction, or the wrong direction, depending.

Its really interesting how more and more people find solace in speaking to me. Maybe I'm just perasanlah, but it seems to be the case. I may not have the repertoir of VIP clients, but I have something greater than that. I've got friends. People who matter most to me. The people that I care about, who I really want to help.

I am beginning to feel that more than anything else in this world, each of us seek affirmation in our lives. When people pour their hearts out, theres nothing more soothing than words of positive support from another person. Sometimes, we seek not another opinion, but further proof that we are doing the right thing. We seek not to know options, but to know that others take pity in our plights. So, when a person comes with differing opinions, with another view, we do the polite thing of accepting those views, but discarding them for the fact that they are not in sync with our views and actions.

So really, for how long do we want to live in self pity, knowing and wanting more pity from others. For how long do we want to be victims of our own failings? Responsibility in what we do and who we are, for our actions and the repercussions, is empowerment at its greatest. We are not victims of others, merely responsible beings of our actions. It is absolutely difficult to accept that we aren't victims, for we are great at being victims. It's absolutely comfortable, and even better, it brings care, pity and support from your friends.

I know some of the readers of this blog are the people I care about above, who have come to me, for comfort. Truthfully, this is not my way of bitching and scolding you. I do enjoy being in conversation with each and every one of you, and forgive me if I do sound aggressive. All I want, is the best from you and that you all be the best that you can be. I am willing to do anything for you, and am pledging my patience and care for you. Selfishly, this is my way of being your friend. A true friend is one that is there, in good and in bad times, even for 5 minutes, right?

Happy Merdeka!

2006-08-28T21:30:00.000+08:00

Oh, almost for forgot to write a paragraph about the current political situation with the "youths". Fucking shit, now I know the reason why they call them BN Youth. FUCKING KIDS. I will not vote for you asswipe diaper whores. Shut the fuck up lah KJ, you man-whore. Who the fuck you whoring for bitch? Who the fuck gave you the license to defend my fucking racial and religious honor? Who appointed you chief asshole and made you mac daddy of all foul mouthed bastards? No one doubted 3 months ago that you'd go places, that you had what it took, that you were a different breed of politician. Now you're just another pile of shit in that fucking cesspool called UMNO. Undeniably Malay, Needs Otak (UMNO).

Oh, and what of MCA Youth? MCA can go suck the elephants cock in Zoo Negara. Trying to be funny by immitating KJ. Yeah baby, why not be a bigger arse? Come on lah. You want progress for "your" people? UMNO youth want progress for "their" people. MIC couldn't give a fuck for "their" people. What the fuck happend to Malaysian? FULLSTOP. Not Malay, not Chinese, not Indian. MALAYSIAN. We are approaching 49 years of independence, yet we are all still slaves of of our damn race, religion and bigotry. All we care about is taking care of our own. No one wants to take care of the greater race, the Malaysian race. Segment and rule. Melayu for Melayu, Cina for Cina, India for India. The colonists are still here, can't you guys see? We are as advanced as we were 49 years ago. We havent progressed one bit. Masyarakat mundur is here to stay. Those who have realized, have gone away, not to safety, just choosing 4 feet of shit as compared to 10 feet of shit back home.

Hope we go to civil war. At least it'll be legitimate for me to kill any person with an irritating voice and an asshole for a mouth. Happy 49th Merdeka. Merdeka! On to the next form of slavery shall we?

Operation Happiness

2006-08-28T21:10:00.000+08:00

Extreme loneliness. This I can survive for the 1 week that I have to, but to go through the rest of my life in this state, I would rather go through death. Or life with the wrong wife. Or life full of mistakes. Anything is better, as you can see.

Hence, I have put in place " Operation Happiness". Oh yeah, a name ooozing with creativity. This involves some very radical moves on my part. All I have to do is pray that she bites. Maybe she needs a nudge in the right direction. Maybe I should do nothing, now that the ball is not in my court. Maybe, I should stop saying maybe. Instead, I should be saying, what next.

"She's wayy out of your league dude!"

Well.. well.. well.... (looking for something to say to myself to make myself feel better), Someone once said that if you want to have a normal life, have normal, attainable measurable goals. If you want an extraordinary life, have extraordinary goals, crazy goals. Do I want her? YES I DO. Is it my true intention to at least be within range of goal, YES IT IS. What the fuck am I going to do to realize this? I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA.

Yeslah, clueless.

I'm Back!

2006-08-25T00:20:00.000+08:00

I have been, for the longest time, planning a new life. After 2 months of silence in this blog, I am, measurably, only closer to that goal by the sum of the small parts that I have been carrying out. Well, actually, less than the sum of the small parts.

In what has been a whirlwind 2 months of my life, I have managed to move to a new town, buy a car, get a new pair of eyes, "move on" in my career, trim off my undeserving relationships, and slowly move toward building new ones and strengthening the ones that matter most.

In the middle of all this, the one feeling flowing in my veins, is the feeling of loneliness. It's a feeling that I have felt for a long time, but which has been soothed somewhat by clinging on to what I thought I had and what I thought mattered to me. Over time though, I find that I am giving, and receiving in unequal amounts. This matters not for now I think, because there always seems to be more to give than what I need to take. What matters, is the fact that I have no one to give it to. Hope that will change, with some luck, careful choice of words, and very very huge risk taking. I do not have to explain why its make or break when you want to take something further with a friend do I?

More on that, and the rest of my life, in the coming days.

Short Stories.

2006-07-02T21:18:00.000+08:00

"Too many issues swirling in my mind. I've wondered if anyone else suffers from drowning in their own thoughts. Gulp gulp, drown."

It's barely a month left before I start a new life again. So many things to do, so many considerations to make. So many plans that I've made, that have to be brought forward and cramped into barely a month. It's overwhelming sometimes, how we have to somehow cope with change. How we have to adapt and move out of our comfort levels. It's always a painful experience, when moving out of one's shell, but we almost always end up better people. It's also funny how most people find it so difficult to move their own cheese, or find it so difficult to accept that someone has moved their cheese.

Changes abound mostly without notice. I think that's what makes it so difficult to accept. Most people want to be prepared for the worse. Some couldn't be bothered and take things as they come. This is yet another defining month in my life. How things go in the next month determines the outcome of at least another year in my life. So much hinges on what I can extract from this month.
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I recently decided to check out some of the available designer skin solutions for men available out there. This after realizing of course, that I've got bad skin and need desperately to do something about it. My ultimate aim is of course, to turn my surface-of-mars-skin into something more akin to the texture of tofu. I want suppleness like those baby's butts in advertisements. *jentik jentik boing boing*. Impossible was the verdict, after some questions to the "consultants". Was really puzzled though, how some of them stare at me as though I'm gay. Really, what can be so wrong with taking care of your skin, your health and your appearance? I think women in general appreciate men who take care of themselves more, no? Learned that the hard way. It was difficult to accept when a girl tells you that she once considered me to be luckier to have her than she is lucky to have me. Felt like a charity case come to think of it. Doubt she feels the same way now though.

I mean, think about it. I doubt any girl will be ashamed to be seen with me, and judging from the many roaming female eyes that check me out, I'm worth a look. But if I put in a little more effort into myself, they'd be oogling and wagging their tongues. Not that they don't wag their tongues now anyway. Only drawback to this is that if I pamper my body with all the products out there, I'm wondering what will happen when I can no longer afford this stuff. Wondering how bad the withdrawal symptoms will be.

Pink shirts are next on the list. LOL.

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I recently went hunting for toy guns with a good friend of mine. We actually went to Carrefour and he bought one of those RM7 toy guns. Wouldn't look out of place in the hands of a 7 year old kid. We somehow think it has something to do with his deprived childhood. More recently though, he complained of the shortcomings of the Made In China contraption. He has stated the need to upgrade to BB guns. At least he's grownup enough to realize that. I am having slight reservations though, mainly because crazy people are dangerous, and who knows what a crazy person with a BB gun can do. I really hope though, that he doesn't give away his calculator.
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Decided that as part of starting a new life, a car is desperately required. So, went to look at the Myvi. I think I'm kinda set on getting one. Never really thought that I'd have to buy a car right now, but since my new life requires a car, there's nothing in particular I can do except oblige. Had to do some calculations as to what I can afford and I've come to a realization that it is no more a mystery how a majority of the population (70%) in Malaysia between the ages of 23-28 do not have any savings. I blame the poor sighted government for this. It has become pretty difficult trying to make ends meet. Now I know, now that I am going to be on my own. But what becomes of my metrosexual lifestyle? Oh no. Dreams shattered.

2006-06-18T19:20:00.000+08:00

Open letter to the mufti of Perak and the Ulama council of Malaysia:

Dear revered Sirs,

I am one of those you've sought to help in your report, the ones you have referred to as being eroded of faith. Yes, my faith in my religion has been eroded. Eroded to such an extent not because I am lacking faith in God, but because I am lacking faith in you. Yes, you, appointed wise men of the religion. Needless to say, I am in full belief now that the world is coming to an end, because as I recall in school, one of the signs is that the matters of the religion are handled by those not qualified to do so. Sounds vague and subjective, but I have deemed all of you unqualified to handle matters of the religion. Ye Datuk-Datuk crony sekalian saya berpendapat begitu.

I do understand the need for certain quarters to study the religion more closely, to be at one with the religion, and to look and practice the finer points of the religion. I even understand the fact that its your job as keepers of the religion to protect it from degradation. But I do not understand how you can look so lowly on, not so much us, muslims by choice (up until now), but look so lowly on Islam. How can you not trust that Islam, for all its great points, could be so unattractive to its believers, as to warrant such a recommendation to the government? How then could you make an assumption that what you believe in should be adopted by everyone, by force or otherwise? Have you thought about the fact that your decisions effect not just Muslims, but everyone else in general?

Frankly Datuks, you've nudged me the wrong way. I did not want to be nudged so far off course, but I've had it Datuks. I am not going to live as a prisoner in my own country. I demand freedom of choice, freedom of expression, and freedom to live as I please. Yes, you have been demanding all sorts of things, so I believe I can demand my rights as well as a legitimate citizen of this country. If you wish to charge me in your mock courts, I have told myself that I will quit this religion officially. (I am sorry for saying this dear God, as I still trust you and believe in you, but you have truly put the religious decisions in this country in the wrong hands and I have lost belief in all your religions.)

Do not get me wrong, there will come a time when I will want to follow the path of the conventional muslim. I believe that time would not be long from now truthfully. But until then, do not make me quit my religion. If you really need to know, I am not the only one who feels this way, and its all because of you Datuks.

She's a Brick Isn't She?

2006-06-18T16:15:00.000+08:00

Could never figure out what this song is about, but love it to bits.. Damn emo..

BRICK
6 am day after Christmas
I throw some clothes on in the dark
The smell of cold
Car seat is freezing
The world is sleeping
I am numb

Up the stairs to the apartment
She is balled up on the couch
Her mom and dad went down to Charlotte
They're not home to find us out
And we drive
Now that I have found someone
I'm feeling more alone
Than I ever have before

She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly
Off the coast and I'm headed nowhere
She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly

They call her name at 7:30
I pace around the parking lot
Then I walk down to buy her flowers
And sell some gifts that I got
Can't you see
It's not me you're dying for
Now she's feeling more alone
Than she ever has before

She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly
Off the coast and I'm headed nowhere
She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly

As weeks went by
It showed that she was not fine
They told me son, it's time to tell the truth
She broke down, and I broke down
Cause I was tired of lying

Driving home to her apartment
For a moment we're alone
Yeah she's alone
I'm alone
Now I know it

She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly
Off the coast and I'm headed nowhere
She's a brick and I'm drowning slowly

As to why I love it so much? Mainly because I find that it reflects my life. Even if I can't figure it out. We can all relate to it can't we?

God has a Blackberry.

2006-06-06T21:33:00.001+08:00

God, oh God, you've gone hightech of late haven't you? I guess this is a sign of keeping up with the times. As a result of your constant blackberry-ing, emailing, and faxing, you've managed to up your Level Of Service quite a bit. We no longer have to wait a million years for our prayers to be answered. It's as though we only have to wait a few hours, or even minutes nowadays for all to come true, or for the sign to come that says we do not deserve what we seek.

Similarly, we do not have to wait a million years before all the bad that we've done will come to haunt us. No longer do we wait generations, for our decendents to be cursing our existence and mistakes in this world. It all happens faster nowadays. It all happens during our lifetime. God, you've sure found a way to make all that goes around to come around.

Wondering now, when you'd be able to zap my spare tire away and beam me a hot girlfriend.

Speaking of which, today June 6th, 2006 (read 6.6.06) is supposed to be significant for all that represents the anti-thesis of God. Happy devil's day? Oh devil my dear, have you got a Blackberry too? Howabout one of them PDA phones? Better be up to date. Lots of corruption, mind fucking and moral destruction to do with the rising number of people in this world. Chop chop.

I've read somewhere though, that for years we have been mistaken by triple sixes representing the devil. According to someone (can't remember his name for the love of God), the hebrew letters representing the devil, which was first thought to be 6, was actually wrongly translated. Instead, it is thought that the hebrew letter should be translated as 'w'. This effectively means that the devil is not '666' but more like, you've guessed it, 'www'. I'm sorry devil, for mocking you for not having a Blackberry. You've devised something far superior. We've all been patronizing the 'www' for quite a while then. In fact, I'm indulging in the devil's work as we speak. And so are you. Yay. We can all go to hell now.

So, even divinity and his enemy have been embracing technology. Wondering then, when god might TT transfer me a kajillion dollars. Wondering too, when the devil might hack my computer, steal my password, and take away my kajillion dollars that god just gave me. Balance. We live on that. We thrive on that.

Are you LOONY?

2006-06-03T12:25:00.000+08:00

The mind: A neverending maze of thoughts, memories, knowledge, feelings, emotions and quirkyness. As the cliched and overused saying goes, the mind is a powerful thing. Its ability to trump matter, to rise to the occation, as well as being the source of strength is overwhelming, and at the same time, often understated.

It's so powerful, that all times, its not the thought of how powerful it can be that scares most, but more the thought of how powerless it can become, that will. To most of us, while the quest for greater minds preoccupies many, it is the study of the powerless mind that intrigues many.

I often fear the day, not when my mind doesn't reach its potential, but when my mind loses its sanity. I fear the day I'd have no control of my thoughts and actions, no control of my maze. I fear, that without control of my mind, that I am destructive, both to myself, and to my surroundings.

You can never blame a madman, so the saying goes. But its somehow inconceivable, but probable that a sane person could act as a madman, just so that he or she could have his way. It could be possible, that the unsound mind, either by conscious effort or otherwise, could plot, and execute something like that. It's so crazy to pull something like that, that its genius. Especially since the doctors have advised those around you to leave you to your own devices, owing to your unstable mind.

In a way, we're all insane. In a way, we're all mentally ill, with our own mental conditions. In a way, we deserve to be in the loony bin. Yet, for most of us, its the same mind that shows strength to overcome trauma. In most of us, its the mind that could potentially go wrong, that goes right, and rises to the occation. For most of us though, we cannot predict, when, if ever, our mind will fail on us. God Forbid.

The future is Today?

2006-05-21T22:09:00.000+08:00

When it comes to the subject of love, there are more than ample amounts of people out there who profess to be all knowing about love. There are those who claim to have been there, done that, and have been into as many relationships, as there are water droplets in the ocean.

Knowing however, and experiencing, are never enough. For each and every person out there would have distinct differences, and to each and every couple, their own unique problems and issues. Sure, they may seem to have similar loose boundaries, but it is never altogether the same. Never. Ever.

What is definitely certain though, is that love brings us all to do crazy things. Love, when coupled with lust, is like fire creeping towards a tank of gasoline. Crazy concoction. My question today, is that can we live without love? Can we live without sparks and flames, without passion and feelings?

The main qualities of a successful marriage, is not love, as advocated by countless movies and serials, but hardwork, sacrifice, understanding, responsibility, reliability and working as a team. Each of these words, brings a sense of maturity. Each of these words, undermines and negates the concept of love. So, in choosing your partner, is it safe to say that first, you must look at maturity, then only to look at love? Not quite either.

Attraction, which is a small subset of love, is built upon the pretext of two people wanting to get to know one another better. It is impossible then, to find a partner able and willing to fulfill all those words, without first having attraction and love. What about match making? Match making overrides the concept of attraction, as a force of bringing two people together, but not as a force of keeping two people together.

Anyway, just incase anyone is wondering as to why dating is so different from marriage, well, the answer is in the above. That the qualities of maintaining a relationship are far far different from the qualities of maintaining a marriage. I feel then, that its better to prepare myself for marriage, then to market myself as a person to date. Hence probably the reason why I don't quite give a rats ass about dating anymore. If it comes, it comes. If it doesn't then, theres always life with all those words, but without anyone to share it with to look forward to. Women my age, look for a different type of guy from me, because they do not think past a couple of years. Hence getting stuck, and marriage to possibly the wrong type of guy, having to work doubly hard at marriage.

Who needs to think about the future right? Not when theres enough to think about in the present. Not when all there is to a relationship is feelings and love and lust and thinking nonstop about a person. No one shares as distinct a vision of the future and what it holds as I do. No one puts as much preparation in the present, for the future to come. No one neglects the present as I do. And its only because, every minute that comes by, is already bringing the future to the present. So, do we really need to be in love, when love is not quite needed in the future?

Ten Things About Bangkok

2006-05-13T21:38:00.000+08:00

Ten things I learned about Bangkok (in no particular order of importance):

1. You never really notice this, but there are really a lot more women then men. You do not see that many couples too. Maybe all the men are in monastaries fantasizing about zen.

2. The best way to see Bangkok is with an escort clinging to one arm and beer on the other.

3. Thai women are beautiful, but very very many are flat chested. You do find yourself however, staring at the korean/japanese tourists :P

4. Patphong is overrated.

5. Siam Paragon is a masterpiece. Interior designers for KL shopping malls, eat your heart out. You'd orgasm if you're into interior design.

6. Bangkok = Sin City. There is no limit. Thai girls are adventurous. Really adventurous.

7. Get yourself a Thai traditional massage. Its quite good. Or you can go for something more advanced.

8. You can fit 5 guys in a tuk tuk. If you've been in one, you'd understand.

9. The next time I go, I wanna bring RM5000. And stay in a luxury hotel. And hire an escort for 4 days (and the corresponding nights of course). Wonder if there are any out there who can speak really good english. As in american standard english.

10. We are definitely making another trip. See number 9. muahahha.

3 Pieces of Paper.

2006-05-04T22:00:00.000+08:00

3 pieces of paper from my trip to Thailand.

Disclaimer!: This was done in true curiosity form, and does not/will never in any way reflect my religious beliefs or disbeliefs.

1st piece: Chinese chinese chinese. Didn't understand a word of it. Gave it to two friends who could read chinese, and they both couldn't decipher its contents.

2nd piece: And I quote:
"Just like an unmated dove, life seems cheerless and sorrowful. No one pays attention. Suffer lonesome living in the forest. Good forture is not in sight. Lose favor with friends and relatives. Beyond this year, long happiness approaches. Legal case is not defensible. Wait for favorable circumstances before making decisions. Better not rush." - Commercial Translator - Wat Yai Chai Mongkol, Ayudhaya, Thailand.

3rd piece: And I quote (again):
"Just like a flower, blooming under the angry sun, but manages to look fresh. Like a little bird learning to fly in a strong wind, falls down to the ground. Life would be enjoyable in the future. Patient recovering. Not likely to find a good mate at this stage. Legal case not favorable. Some good lucks exist. Despite some hardships at present, would be better not too long. - Another Commercial Translator - Lucky Temple, Bangkok, Thailand.

Apparently, being philosophical involves animals and flowers in hardship. And oddly, even legal cases. Quite accurate I might add. Depressing stuff, really.

To those in the know, you'd know how I got those pieces of paper. To those who don't know, well, you're better off finding out how to get your own pieces of paper. Will blog about Thailand when I'm not to stoned.

The Vision

2006-04-27T13:09:00.000+08:00

As I sit here listening to "Girls Aloud" (I realize how stupid that sounds, but imagining 5 hot girls prancing around is reason enough to like their brand of bubblegum pop), I can't help but think of what to write. I guess it takes quite a bit to write about politics and policies, and in the current state of health that I'm in, that's the last thing I'm getting my blood boiling over for.

So, after much thought, I've decided to write about the future. We all have to ask ourselves what we're doing in this world, and what purpose do we carry, gracing this earth? I'm pretty sure that personal happiness is in everyone's minds, and I'm damn sure that most people can't think much further than monetary needs, but there must be an ultimate reason as to why you and I are even breathing air right now. There is of course, a reason why most people can't think further than monetary needs, and thats because most people find it that much more difficult nowadays to make ends meet. Brilliantly, some bloke put it in the following words:

"Just as we are learning to make ends meet, they move the ends." Government's fault, this one.

But I'm digressing. The point that I'm trying to make is that we all have to have a vision for ourselves, and in the bigger sense, our environment that we live in. And in achieving that vision or dream, we have to think of what we would want to do, and how we are going to achieve that dream. Question is, in the kind of life that we are living now, what's yours?

Somewhere in the future, I want to be a teacher. No, not because I have to (to make ends meet) but because I want to. We all know of the graduation of thinking, where you graduate in thinking as you move from Kindergarden, to Primary school, to secondary school, to college, to work. Most critical of these graduations are the early years of secondary school, or the early years of college/late years of secondary school. So theres my target. To influence and shape the minds of these young adults. I'm just about tired of complaining about Malaysian mentality, and the dumb government. Thats my plan. Influence them from young, even if its only a bunch of students of the 500,000 that graduate from secondary school every year. Even if its only one school of the thousands in Malaysia.

I'd like to die not just happily, but to die with a sense of accomplishment. Knowing that I've actually done something for the country and the community that I live in. Its not just about your own wellbeing and happiness, but about how your community is keeping up with life. Life is not just about you afterall isn't it? You're probably wondering how the words above could come from someone who likes "Girls Aloud" just because theyre hot. Well, there's your first lesson.

PDAs (no, not the electronic handheld device)

2006-04-12T22:07:00.000+08:00

Dear Nazri (don't deserve to be called Dato' since you're a fucking moron),

Why are you the only minister to come up with dumb comments all the time (Kelantan's Chief Minister doesn't count.)? Who are you to tell me what I deem to be morally acceptable? Are you going to be forever delusional, living in your little world of what is orientally right and wrong? Remember the last time you made some dumb comments about the family bill that was tabled in parliament? What kind of a statement were you trying to make when you said "Just pass the bill, we will amend it later"? Wonder which ass you licked to make minister? Moron. Now that you left the fucking CVLB in the dumps, you'd wanna move on to destroying another portfolio? Asshole. Thanking God my MP is not as titanically moronic as this you.

Back to the gist of it all. In the obviously expanding, developing society that we live in, different people are entitled to different views on just about anything out there. The essence of democracy, as I have been made to understand, is all about choices. The freedom to not only be able to have different thoughts, but also to be able to freely exercise those thoughts. Though I may be an obvious proponent of the PDA, I am definitely aware that not everyone out there is able to stomach full out and out PDA.

There are, I admit, many out there, not just the old prudes (here I go being judgemental), but young people like you and me, who think that displays of affection should be left to the privacy of the house. But really, are we getting to the bottom of this problem, or are we merely drafting more stupid laws and bylaws, just in the name of upholding what is supposedly right in religion and morality?

"Culprits" of PDA are mainly young couples. Couples with no place to go, except shopping malls and parks. Couples who, obviously, do not have the privacy of a house to conduct their little experiments in affection. Really, the only obvious solution, is to be "affectionate" when they are together. Plus, this is much cheaper than renting a hotel room. Less costly as well, if you're a muslim and do not want to get caught by 4 perverts working for the religious department. So, do you blame them for being affectionate in public?

Then theres the law itself. Obviously, displays of affection are very subjective. What I would deem as acceptable is obviously different than that of that moronic minister of ours. Something obviously as subjective as this, is therefore open and subject to abuse by those wielding the power to exercise those laws. If at all, there should be a law, (in the name of whatever), there should be strict, and very specific guidelines. For instance, if I were to give a peck on the cheek to my mother in public, would I be liable to the same law as a couple frenching? If I were to hug my wife in public (purely hypothetical since I'm not married yet), would I be liable to the same fine as if I were to heavily pet her? See the point?

Obviously a balance has to be struck somewhere in between. If the conservatives were to have their way, there would be no contact whatsoever. If I were to have my way, I'd stare, but I'd definitely tolerate even sex in public. But really, we have to look at the objectives we are trying to achieve, before subjecting the public to further duress. We must ask ourselves, as sensible, morally upright adults, of what is truly acceptable not only to us, but our children as well. We must teach our children on the differences between maliscious/sleazy gestures, and true loving gestures. I don't know about the rest of the population, but I cannot help but smile when I see a loving old couple, still in each others arms, with the husband giving his wife a peck in the cheek. I've seen it many times here, just as I've witnessed sex in the bushes and in back alleys.

You don't have to believe in it, but to accept it and come to terms with it. If its the children you are worried about, isn't it your duty not to censor, but to teach the difference between right and wrong, about love and lust, and about being smart and being an absolute moron?

I Can Predict The Future. I can.

2006-04-08T21:36:00.000+08:00

The greatest gift a human being could have, is the gift of foresight. The gift of being able to predict, not just with accuracy, but to predict far enough into the future to make a difference. Foresight comes not just from assembling the jigsaw puzzle that make up the events of life, but also through accurately analyzing human behavior.

Sure, there could be a million different reasons and aspects that make events in our lives. However, its the way one reacts to those events that make the difference. Really, if I could choose again what I would like to do in university that would make me no money what so ever, its got to be anthropology or to be more specific, cultural anthropology.

I enjoy observing people. I enjoy behavior differences. I enjoy picking out the little things that are so distinct in everyone it becomes a trademark. Most importantly, i enjoy spotting small, discreet body language that tell loads about a person. In doing so as well, without realizing it, I end up giving out very clear signals myself. This is probably due to the fact that I know some people are daft, and that they need clearer signs. It's true.

Somewhere in reading a person, I admit that I do get carried away. Most of the time, I read too much into a persons actions that as a consequence, I end up daydreaming very elaborate and complicated results of those actions. Most of the time, they don't come true. Sometimes, very rarely, they do.

Yesterday, while being preoccupied with the thoughts of an upcoming event, I envisioned, for a brief moment that the event wouldn't happen due to a very specific reason. Today, had passed, and I thought right. Scary how my mind comes up with little warnings about the future. Funny though, how I end up thinking the whole day as to why it didn't happen, why didn't it happen because of that reason, and what is the consequence of the event not happening. Lastly, tiring how my mind keeps thinking of what to do next, and whether I am reading the situation correctly.

I hate being right when I think about bad things happening. But that's how I operate. I think of the worse case scenario and take precautions. When nothing goes wrong, I start thinking that something will go wrong. I'm such a pessimist. But at least I am prepared for the worst. Not quite sure if I'm prepared for the best though. Haven't felt that for a longg time.

Problem Problem Problem

2006-03-23T23:07:00.000+08:00

Problem statement: Implementing effective ways of getting an older woman to go out with you.

Mission: Not to to turn her off totally, to the extent of a lost friendship.

Steps: I am stumped. Been on my mind for the past week.

Thoughts: Damn, how do I do this? I've forgotten how to play the field. Yeah, I'm a great buaya, everyone knows that, but how do I position myself? *thinking for too long* Where are the days of bravery beyond the limited capabalities of rapidly shrinking balls? Fuck it. Why not.

State of The Life Address

2006-02-19T13:16:00.000+08:00

Nothing has changed much in this weary life of mine.

On to other matters. Firstly, the caricatures on the Prophet. I've seen them. To anyone wishing to see them, but is far too lazy to scour the net for them, send a personal note to me, and I might consider emailing it to you. Hope I do not get caught. As I understand it, our bigot of a government could want to put me in jail for "distribution of blasphemous material". Screw them. Every muslim, muslim wannabe or just about everyone else has a right to know what exactly is being debated about here.

My reactions to the entire debacle? Deplorable on both sides. Idiotic even. To intergalactical trans-planetary proportions. Really idiotic of a bunch of editors to be publishing cartoons (none of them funny as is being claimed) in the name of "freedome of speech". Double standard bastards. Try publishing funny cartoons of the holocaust, morons. Or how about cartoons of Moses hallucinating when receiving the 10 commandments? (How could he not be, for all you know, he was high on cocaine on that mountain *sarcasm sarcasm sarcasm* Don't burn my embassy for that statement.)

Moving on nicely then. Fucking useless bastards calling themselves muslims. This is why I now refuse to be associated with muslims. Narrow minded asses supposedly willing to die defending the Prophet's honour. Cowardly bastards couldn't even defend Palestine when the Israeli soldiers began occupation in 1965. Ran helter skelter leaving behind boots, ammunition and even their underwear behind. Way to go picking on some minimal security embassies to torch down. Thats right, send the right message across. I'm muslim, I'm a fucking violent terrorist, and I like burning embassies. Serve you right for dying in those protests. You're fucking going to hell for that. No where in any religion does it even mention that violence be tolerated if the intentions were right. Right intentions does not ever warrant an evil deed. That goes for both sides.

Think about it for a second before you flame me for making such comments. There is a reason why foreigners, who have no connection to Islam, have such thoughts and views of Islam in this world. There's a reason why they would dare draw a bomb on the Prophet's head. The religion itself has been tarnished by a select few, supposedly fighting in defence of the religion. That we have deeper underlying issues at stake here. In the world, and especially in Malaysia, Muslims, in the name of religious observence is fast disassociating themselves from the other religions and in Malaysia's case, other races due to that fucking stupid constitutional definition of what a Malay is in Malaysia. Everywhere you go, preachers are preaching about creating an identity for muslims. About not embracing western cultures and influence. About staying true to the religion.

But all this contradicts itself in 2 full sentences. In creating an "image" of a muslim, we are, at a rather disturbing rate, blindly adopting ancient arab culture. Wearing of the robe, covering of the head, Bahasa Malaysia adapted to arabic tunes. That we are shunning one foreign influence for another is not exactly being truthful to oneself is it? Isn't it intriguing that if not for the religion sprouting in the Arabian peninsula, we would not be following arabian influence? Wouldn't it be even more intriguing if lets say, Islam sprouted in Europe instead. Would we then be following European trends and cultures instead?

Personally, I feel that it would do the religion more good if we assimilated into the various cultures in this world. We do NOT have to look the same, think the same and be the same everywhere around the world. This goes back to the notion of individual freedome. Something which is dear to me, and something which has not been given much thought. I keep on thinking of what the religious teacher in school said. "There is no forcing in Islam" ("Tiada paksaan dalam Islam"). Such simple words, but unfortunately interpreted as "There is no forcing others to join Islam. BUT there is forcing muslims to heed to the teachings."

Who gave anyone the right to interpret it that way? I feel like floating away.

The Balance

2006-01-22T21:56:00.000+08:00

Human relationships are fragile little things. Attrociously difficult to maintain, yet we all need adequate amounts of it in our lives. Top of the pile in the balance of relationships, is trust. The breaking of trust, which is at the bottom of the pile, is called betrayal. More often than not, building trust with someone else, results in betrayal to another. Provided the interelation of course.

Take my parents for instance. I do not envy being in their position. The reason being, that to build trust with one of their children, would result in betrayal to another. And if you even attempt at seperately building trust, spending too much time with one child will kill your chances with the other.

Face it, in conflicts, you have to take sides, even if you are deemed to be neutral. In a parenting crisis, taking sides results in a victor, and the vanquished. In the court of law, though the judge is deemed to be neutral, he or she is taking the side of the law, and more often than not, passes judgement based on social norms/personal prejudice/maybe the law, everytime all three, rarely only the last reason.

Trust and betrayal go hand in hand like day and night. One cannot achieve its desired effect, without the opposite being there, in equal or more amounts, contrary to Newton's now flawed third law. We must admit, that there'd be no worse feeling in this world, than the feeling of being betrayed. That all the trust you have put in someone, amounted to nothing in the end. That failure be the only result of all your hopes.

I find it fitting though, that betrayal always has a way of biting you in the ass. That one day, you'd have to depend on that person you once betrayed for help. That that person, depending on the individual, might, or might not be there to pull you out. As for me, I may be acting as though nothing has happened, but trust me, I do not forget.

My Sister the...

2006-01-06T21:07:00.001+08:00

We have become quite accustomed to her being nocturnal. For a person who lives under the same roof, the only proof of her existance lies not in seeing her, but in hearing the sounds she makes. No one knows what she looks like anymore, and sure as hell, no one knows what the hell she's been up to.

That is, until today. All it took was a rainy day, a curious father, and a son thrown into the mixture. Here's how everything went.

(It was raining heavily, thunder blasting in the background)

Father: Where are you going? It's raining.
Daughter: I'm going to work.
Father: Where?
Daughter: Bukit Bintang.

(Son is pretending not to care, as he contemplates how to show he doesn't care, while in hearing distance of the juicy conversation)

Father: Are you working in a Bar? Pub?
Daughter: *Shirks*.
Son: *HUGE SMIRK ON HIS FACE*

It all makes sense now. She goes off at 830 pm, returns by 400 am according to my father. That's bar/karaoke/pub time people. Fuck, now I've got some serious thinking to do. IF my sister is a GRO/waitress/whatever, in one of those dodgy clubs/bars/pubs/ktv lounges in Bukit Bintang, she is, theoretically, a spy. Why, because I might frequent ANY of those places. If I drink, she knows. If I'm "naughty", she definitely knows. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The last thing I would wanna do is find myself drunk in a place, snogging my own sister! How fucking gross can that be. Oh, but think of the advantages. IF she is truly a GRO, that would mean that she would be in the company of other GRO's. Pretty pretty horny fun GRO's from all over the world (PRC mostly I think). Plus, she might have some dirt on some horny old Datuk. Or, she could rise up the GRO ladder and become a mamasan. Hmm. Maybe it's time to be nice to her again.

Yo Ho Ho..

2005-12-25T19:20:00.000+08:00

It's exactly 7 days to the new year. Exactly 7 days left of this miserable year. It's really good that this year will end. It started in misery, it shall end with more. Hopefully, it doesn't spill over to the next.

There is no way it can spill over to the next. I am the master of my fate. I am the king of my destiny. I am the conquerer of my fears. I've got a million ideas, and even more time next year to do them. Lets go baby! It's action time! I will be the first person on earth who will fulfill his new year resolutions.

First things first. Rally the troops. We got some serious resolutions to accomplish. The earlier the better. The more prolonged, the more accurate. Time to bring out the heavy ammunition. Go baby go go.

P.s. MERRY CHRISTMAS, and have a DRUNKEN NEW YEAR!

Xenophobia-Mania

2005-12-04T21:13:00.000+08:00

I watched the MMS video of that woman who had to do ear-squats. The following thoughts were going through my head:

Wow, big boobs.
Who's the woman in the background? Didn't seem like she was a policewoman, considering the blurry video.
Where was the guy who took the video standing?
Did the victim really look like an illegal chinese national? Video was too blur to make out any distinctive features. Usually, you'd be able to tell Malaysian-Chinese, from China-Chinese, from Singaporean-Chinese, from ABC's from BBC's bla bla.
Do ear-squats really dislodge contraband items from the vaginal canal?
Video phones rock!

Really, besides all the underlying questions being already asked, and our stupid parliamentarians wanting to actually debate a softporn video, and article after article being written about so called human rights, police procedure etc, what is truly the core issue in this debate?

I play an online game where I receive a virtual football team. The objective is of course to be successful, no matter the individual definition. We also have a national coach, and an U-20 coach. About 2 years ago, we reverted to a system where only locally trained players who are still based in local clubs would be considered for the National teams. Reasons of which are purely tactical. However, recently, a debate came up in the forums where this policy was called xenophobic bordering on racism.

Calling us racist would be unjustified, as people from other ignorant parts of the world do not even know of the composition of the population, demographics etc. Some even referred to people in Malaysia as Malays (we know thats not true, but they can't care less). We can debate about the different races in Malaysia some other day, but what I'd like to ask is this. Have we, the world in general, become xenophobic?

From the moment anyone steps into an airport/seaport/port of entry, discrimination is immediately done based on nationality, whereby all foreigners are treated differently from citizens. Xenophobia? In the truest sense of the word, yes. Or do we call this preferential treatment for citizens? I guess in the great words of George Orwell, some are more equal than others.

Narrowing the scope to Malaysia, though many of us might not admit it, we associate crime with the rise in unemployment amongst the foreigners. In other words, we associate crime with the indons, banglas, burmese etc. I for instance, do not even remotely feel comfortable when in the presense of Indonesians, regardless of whether they mean harm of otherwise.Fear of foreign objects and foreigners? I think so. Others fear what the "Mat Salleh" 10,000 km away might say about us and our policies. Xenophobia? I think so. Then there was the general policy that we should shun all things imported, shun all values "western", reverting to BM as a medium of education and information dispersal etc. Xenophobia? I think so (though it might be argued that its instead nationalism. I think it goes in tandem. Nationalism plays a big part in xenophobia vice-versa.)

What people fail to realize is as borders are opened, there is still perception lingering in many that foreigners are invading our nations. We continue to feel uneasy as they come to take our jobs, or rights, or land, or economy. Yet we continue to be fully dependent on them for the very things we refuse to do ourselves. Why is it in a world of opening borders, we continue to place an emphasis on nationality and race?

We go back to the case of the victim of the ear-squat scandal. Why was so much emphasis placed on her being a citizen of china (later proved wrong), then her being a chinese woman? Why not just refer to her as a victim of questionable police procedures? Perplexing isn't it, how we take one step forward, and two steps back. As for me, I walk forwards with my head looking back. Ever "fearful" of the foreigner that will attempt to rob me of everything I have.

The Anniversary

2005-11-26T21:26:00.000+08:00

November 26th

Congratulations.

Lets commemorate this day, with a prayer.

"Some people are built more heartless than others,
Some people are built stronger than others.
Some people are built bigger, better liars,
Some people are built more resolute and unnerving.
Some people are built to betray and betray,
Some people are built to ignore and more.

What You took away from me, I will get back.
What I lost to You, I will compensate.
It may have all been a distant memory,
But it is the rawness of yesterday,
that keeps me going.

I remember that retribution has its many ways,
And revenge many more.
For as long as I am alive,
They will NEVER be at peace.
For as long as I am here,
You will kick them out of paradise.

The two things I owe,
neither was deserved.
Grant me the strength for another year.
And the patience of many more.

Amen."

Today is a very special day. If I've made it thus far,
I can make it through anything. Bleak winters a'comin.

*******************************************************************************
Yesterday I walked from KLCC to KL Sentral. Nothing better to do on a Friday night apparently. It was nice. All 2 hours of it, from Jalan Ampang, to Lebuh Ampang, to Masjid India, to Central Market, including the pitstop at Petaling Street. It was great, it was relaxing, it was hot as hell, but it was fun to be in the company of some great friends. People equally crazy enough to walk that far. Gave us alot of time to think, and alot of time to talk. Gave me some time to be both on my own, but at the same time in the company of friends.

I'll never try that again. It was just depressing in a way. Normal people spend time chilling out on a Friday night. I think I'll dedicate that walk to the anniversary above. Amen!

Thinking

2005-11-21T21:57:00.000+08:00

We all believe in sound planning. We believe that with a little more thought, an occation, a trip, your life, the future would jive a little better. I used to put a lot of thought into planning. I'd spend hours at a time, pondering, mulling, thinking of how something was best done. How best to approach a situation, how I'd like my life to be at a certain target age.

It amazes me the possibilities an idle mind can bring. Sit alone for 20 minutes in a corner, uninterrupted, and you might just come up with a cure for cancer. Sit alone for a further 20 minutes, and you'd be spewing quantum physics from your ears. A further 20 minutes after that, and they'd have to admit you to the psychiatric ward.

I used to think that most things in life especially shouldn't be over-thought. I used to think that I'd cross the bridge when I get there. Que Sera Sera man. But what happens if bridges are burned? What happens if bridges are swept away? What happens if at the end of the day, you'd just want to walk along the river without actually crossing that bridge? What if, you burn that bridge?

Consequences are not something to be thought of too much. Simple reason being that there are too many possibilities, infinite in amount and so unpredictable, you might as well try predicting what the next Euro lottery numbers are. It becomes especially bad if there are other humans involved. No matter how long you've known a person, and how much time you've spent analyzing the bugger, you'd never really know what that person will do in a certain situation. See how in a single paragraph I've manage to contradict myself?

The coming months will be a turning point in my life. Typical of any mid twenties adult, changes are abound. Drama, oh the drama. I used to live in a time where what I did never had repercussions lasting longer than a month. What I do in the next few months, could and would change my life forever. Or it might not. We'll see.

So, the moral of the story is this. Don't think when you don't have to. Think when you need to. Think when you have nothing better to do. Think in the morning when your mind is free and fresh and released from the shakles of your problems of yesterday and problems to come. Think no longer than 40 minutes. Think it is time to stop now.

Questions?

2005-11-15T21:44:00.000+08:00

If you somehow knew that you'd die tomorrow, and that you only had one thing that you could do, within your means, what would it be? In cases such as these, you'd usually get a myriad of cliched answers. Some wish to rob a bank, others would like to do something daring like bungee jumping. I've even heard of those who'd drink their life savings away on a night of drunken vice, and well, more drunken vice. Obviously the more pious among us would opt to pray, say our last goodbyes et al.

Think about it. If you had only one thing that you could do, within your means, obviously it'll have to be something significant. Something to be remembered for generations to come. You'd want to leave a mark on this world. You'd wanna feel like you've accomplished something, or that your existance has brought meaning not only to others, but more importantly to yourself. Above all else, you'd wanna exit in peace, not only with nature, and those around you, but with yourself. Or you can choose to exit with a bang. Basically, and I bet everyone would agree, this is the part in all of us that is programmed. No one wants to be forgotten.

Now, the more pertinent question that you'd have to ask yourself, is why is it, that if its within your means now, have you not done it? Why have you opted only to do it upon the knowledge of impending parting of your soul from substance? Why is it so hard to do something that would leave a mark now? Something that could possibly change your life and the people around you. Why wait? Is it because upon death we have nothing to lose? Really, what have we got to lose now, if our intentions/actions are good? What could be so wrong with putting things right now?

Any day could be my last day. Be it 50 hours, 50 days, 50 months, or 50 years from now. Yet I am procrastinating. I don't know when I'm going to die. I hope I'd be able to fulfill my wish before I die.

Brain Drain

2005-11-06T10:42:00.000+08:00

Dr. Chua, my dear health minister; you obviously do not have any relatives, friends or acquaintances who study overseas. If not you wouldn't be so surprised right? I mean, you are totally ignorant of the ages-long fact that overseas graduates, after being exposed to life, well, overseas just do not want to come home anymore. Make sure you bring it up to the cabinet. Complain to the weakling fatherly figure, and see what he has to say. Make sure you lament enough in the national papers too. The issue will die down anyway, because mark my words, this isn't the first time such an issue has risen, and very definitely wont be the last.

The brain drain has been going on for ages my dear. The government, and just about every other private company scholarship and MARA had been dilligently sending scholars overseas, only to not even get a whiff of their prized assets 5 years after sending them there. Would you care to hear about how to solve such a problem?

Firstly, that bloody contract that you require every scholar to sign, exercise it the minute you get a chance to. Don't wait 3 years before opening up the file, and another 3 years before you subpoena them. Secondly, hire all those Ah-Longs that you've put in jail. Should the scholars refuse to return, shame their families. Publish their names. Send dead chickens, coffins, red paint their house and send chrysenthemums. Change the clause to disallow staggered payments upon breaking the bond. See which fucking bank would wanna give a loan of RM 1 Million to a fresh graduate. Go after their ramshackled guarantors. Make them pay.

Sounds a little harsh some of you might say, but there is no fucking way I am going to let my hard-earned tax money be used by a bunch of selfish thoughtless traitors to get an education, only not to return to serve their country. Don't like the harsh rules, don't opt for the scholarship then. No one was complaining when they first signed for the PWD scholarship. So why complain when you have to return? Have some gratitude for godsakes. The government/private company/MARA was there for you when your future hung in the balance and your poor-assed parents couldn't afford to pay for your education and the education of your 10 other siblings. What the hell is wrong with sacrificing some of your time in return? Traitor. They should rescind your fucking citizenship. They should treat your entire family like pariahs.

Loyalty in the world today cannot be cultivated anymore. Everyone is a mercenary. Gone are the days when repayment went way beyond monetary debt. I can understand the perks of remaining overseas. I never went overseas to study, but the gold plated grassfields across the sea are very tempting to say the least. But I was once a scholar, and I intend, with all my might to repay what I owe. I may go through some hard times, I may end up doing something I do not even like. I am definitely earning less than those who choose to work elsewhere. But at least, I know that I have done my part. I have no beef with those who go on their own money and decide to stay. That is their own prerogative. Their own money. It's when they waste the people's money that people get mad.

And what about the future? The government should actually make it worthwhile to attract their overseas scholars home. Put together a nice package if they have to. Do what Singapore did, and restore the glory associated with serving the government. Instead of focusing on just corruption, why not make the government a proper, dynamic environment conducive and meeting the expectations of the overseas grads. Retire all those old bastards who refuse to move with the times. Its the only way forward.

What of the gulf between local universities and overseas ones? I'm sure local grads would feel shortchanged if overseas grads were treated better. For starters, it is about time that all local universities reverted back to English as its medium of communication and knowledge dispersion. We all feel nostalgic about BM and its lack of prominence, but English has inadvertantly become the lingua franca. The business, trade, commerce, finance, mathematics, engineering language of choice for the future. Move with the flow, or drown opposing it.

And for fucks sake, do something about our fucking Ringgit. No way is it going to compete with Euros or Dollars or Pound Sterling at the current rate. Forget about boosting exports. All you are doing is making a bunch of conglomerates and chinamen rich. We should no longer aim to compete with the likes of China and India, because truthfully, we can't compete with those prices. Concentrate instead on niche technology, on quality and precise goods. Concentrate on expertise. People pay a lot for expertise.

It's time Malaysians were given a better life. We deserve to buy more from every Ringgit that we have in our hardworking hands. When is everyone going to realize that China goods suck. We deserve better. We deserve more. So what are you going to do about it dear government?

It's Raya Malaysia! Rejoice!

2005-11-02T22:55:00.001+08:00

Its Raya, its time for forgiveness. Its time for wiping your slate clean, only to screw around and destroy other people for the rest of the year. Then its back to wiping the slate clean. I love the system. Anyway, along with the tradition of new clothes, new curtains, a haircut and morning forgiveness and prayer, I would like to take this opportunity to seek forgiveness from this world. It is afterall, only appropriate, since I feel that I have stepped on many a toe since the last raya. (Wonder if I will be receiving any forgiveness in return, considering that my toes have also been stepped upon many many times - I've got toes as big as my ankles from all the swelling).

So here it is.

Selamat Hari Raya. Happy Raya. Maaf Zahir Batin. Sorry Inside Out. Dari pangkal rambut, sampai ke kaki. From the tips of my hair, to the edge of my feet.

This is however, only a general apology (I am not begging mind you). If you do not receive one personally from me in the coming days/weeks, this just means that:

a) You have deemed me unworthy of your company - you don't deserve an apology.
b) You don't deserve an apology.
c) I have totally forgot to seek your forgiveness. (Plausible)

So there you have it. Yippie. Raya's here. Oh the mundane things I get to do on raya morning. The same morning that had lost its meaning, more than 10 years ago. We still somehow need it don't we?

Untitled

2005-10-12T22:06:00.000+08:00

Stumped by past forlorn
by hell be gone,
by heaven's scorn
The middle is where I stand,
the drifter I've become,
Where is my guiding hand?
Why was I abandoned?

And when that wall hits you
What would you do? What should I do?
And when she steps all over you
Do you see it through?
I dont want me to..

Its all a farce,
this life's routine,
No one can save me,
As the Silver Lining chokes,
As the optimism drowns
As the hope sedates,

Your presence is scarce,
All too familiar this place Ive been,
Open my eyes to see,
I will rebuild my spokes,
With happiness and sounds
Faraway from that fate.

And when that wall hits you
What would you do? What should I do?
And when she steps all over you
Do you see it through?
I dont want me to..

Where is my desire?
Why am I still here?
What do I do Sir?
How does it all end for her?
When will it start for sure?

It's Fasting Month!

2005-10-04T21:33:00.000+08:00

What is a free-loving, alcohol trotting, pork gobbling "muslim" like me doing fasting, I've heard many people ask me. Truthfully, fasting IS a pain in the arse. I mean, what's to like about it? You dont get to drink, eat, cuss, fuck, wank, hear bad things nor even think it. It's supposed to teach patience, sacrifice, observance to divine law and subject yourself as the ultimate slave/servant of God. But really, what is the point, if the other 11 months of the year, you're a fucker, even if you're a Saint for 1 month (this encourages hypocritism). And really, if you are a Saint for 12 months of the year, you'd be lying through the pores of your clenching anus, because even Saints are not Saints 12 months of the year.

Somewhere in religion, individualism is lost. Somewhere in the interpretation of religion, the interpretation is lost. That is what I basically don't agree about it. I do not see their right on imposing their beliefs on others. Neither do I see their right to save me from damnation, or make me follow the supposed right path. I especially don't see their right in meddling in how I choose to carry myself and live my life, even if all they do is stare in their "disappointment". Believe me, I am not talking just about muslims.

See how everything is becoming stiffling? Most of us don't do something because we wholly believe in it. We do it because if we don't someone will be condemning us or would be very disappointed in us. Its as though, if you observe religion, you're a better person than a free thinker or a sun worshipper who does believe in God, but does not have any preference for religion.

Back to me. I don't know. I really have no clue. I guess the best explanation of this is that I do it out of habit. I was brought up in observance of Islamic law in all its glory and flaws. When my parents told me to pray, I'd pray. In religious class, I was the class pet. Though my knowledge of Islam may be based on the rather scholastic Jabatan Pendidikan curriculum, I'd say that even that is rather a lot of knowledge. Somewhere deep inside me, I do want to be a good muslim. By this I mean the "good"muslim in the eyes of conventionalism. The problem with this is that I don't want to be a "good" muslim now. I'd prefer to be given the freedom and opportunity to pursue what I deem is acceptable, not what society and a few men in headgear and robes think acceptable. Religion to me, is a very personal relationship between you and your creator. The whole point of it is to maintain that relationship, which ever way you want to do it. It shouldn't matter that another method be preferred to your method.

Truthfully, I do not think a lot seperates me from the good muslim, either than the fact that the good muslim probably devotes more time to religion. Even then, you get people who devote plenty to religion, and still act like bastards, condemning all that is "wrong" in his/her skewed eyes. There are even bigger bastards that block roads and refuse to move their vehicle in the name of reverence to God. I've come to believe most muslims oppose the war against Iraq just because Iraq is a "muslim" country, and that the invading forces are "kafir laknat" (infidels). In other words, they would not care less if Iraq was replaced with, say, Israel. In fact, they'd be extremely delighted if it were Israel. What happened to the notion of opposing a war because wars bring death, destruction and suffering?

Tomorrow, fasting month starts. I am not looking forward to it. But I have to. I just hopes that somehow, it's beneficial to me. I don't want promises of eternal gratitude in heaven. I do this because it's become a habit. I do this because I believe in its benefits. I do this for my own ulterior motives. I do this because I want to.

*******************************************************************************

P.S. To the fucking M.P's bickering in Parliament about some dumb A.P list that contains your fucking names. I did not vote you mother fuckers to debate on whether a portly bitch that double-crossed you by releasing that list should be referred to some dumb committee. Frankly, I couldn't even be bothered as to why some Bumi fucker gets more A.P.'s than the next Bumi fucker. I especially did not vote you to protect a fucking failure of a national car company just because its a national car company. I voted you so that you could take care of the interest of the public, not a select few.

Please debate about how to end poverty, increase productivity in the government, about making Malaysia a better place to live. Please debate about ways of increasing our standard of living, about a stronger currency, a better and more efficient taxation system and reducing crime, about an effective way on preventing profiteering. Please vote on a motion to stop the rediculous notion that public transport be a money making entity of the government, about diverting the subsidies for oil into improving/subsidizing our public transportation network and services, or vote against the dumb idea that all non-performing GLC's be automatically bought by Khazanah. Please approve the immediately-effective ruling to reduce alcohol prices. Stop thinking just about your fucked up selves. The world does not just revolve around you. Amen!

T.G.I.F. (2 Days Too Late)

2005-09-25T17:44:00.000+08:00

The part about blogging is that you rarely write about something that will happen in the future. Most of what will be written is about the past, and what had been done. That's because we are all reporters. Its how people are. We love the 20/20 vision that hindsight brings. We hate the bright future because it blinds us in discotheque white lights.

Now this is exceptionally true for me, because not only do I love hindsight, I revel in reporting done 2 days too late. Well, actually, I revel much more in reporting never done at all, but for the sake of the miniscule readership of this blog, I'd have to give something right? So here it is, my life in a nutshell, 2 days ago.

It turned out a pretty day to be walking to the bustop. And the bus ride was, well, ordinary. Things did turn weird however when I walked straight into the emptiest LRT ever. I mean, this is what you'd get at the first train in the morning and the last train. When no one bothers to take the LRT. Not at rush hour. Usually I'd have to wedge myself between the civic-consciousless aunty and those buggers who refuse to remove their burdened backpacks in a crowded place. Nope, not today, not in this LRT. I could lie down on the floor and do my version of the snow angel and still people could walk in and out of the LRT without stepping on me.

Halfway through the morning (somewhere between my breakfast and settling down with work), the emergency system sounded. I had been waiting 2 whole years for this. Can you imagine, KLCC, all two towers of it, evacuating in their version of a mega firedrill. It was so damn cool (in a pimply teenage underaged sorta way). Well, and I confirmed the truth of my suspicion all this time that Tower 2 is where all the chicks are working (for the chicks reading this blog, its also a place where all the "hot" guys are). So, tip from my blog. If you feel like working in KLCC, head to Tower 2. Its where the pretty faces are. (Disclaimer: The author will not accept responsibility for subsequent nose bleeds OR utter disappointment.)

By night time, I'd found myself sitting in the most expensive seats for the extravaganza known as Stomp!. Show was great, atmosphere was superb, and my mouth was gaping the whole show, but, and this is a very very small but, actually; what on holy earth were they thinking when they did the ticket pricing for this show? It seemed as though they were trying to make it exclusive. I mean its one thing to pay those guys for performing, and I'm sure the sponsors were there to ensure no loss was made, but really, something as great as Stomp should be made accessible to all, not just the Mat Sallehs, yuppies and Datuks who could afford tickets. And if they were thinking of matching ticket prices here to those in Broadway and West End, well, we've only got our toilet paper valueless currency that serves no one except multinationals and a select group of Malaysian exporters, to blame.

One ghost-busride later (another empty bus - this time scarier because there were only 3 people on it), and I had an invitation to the Loft. Ah, another first. Three words. Loved the place! It was tasteful, it had a terrace which was seperated by a glass wall and doors that kept music in, and most importantly, the crowd was a good crowd. For a horny guy like me, good crowd equals hot women left right and centre, all checking you out. It was a good place to chill, or just about do whatever you wanted. If you felt like chatting up someone without having to blow your voicebox, do it in the balcony. The music's there, but just. And if you've felt that you've had enough fo talking and wanna get down to some serious action (dancing action I mean), a glass door is all that seperates you from the centre-bar, and the dancefloor. Superb. Nevermind the bomb I had to pay for the drinks and covercharge. Exclusivity here, I don't mind. Keeps the clamshell kids out.

So, that was my friday in a nutshell. Not your most typical Friday, but not thatt eventful either. But it was a welcome change from the gloom shrouding this blog and well, my existance. It did however, remind me, that sometimes emptiness could be rejoiced in, but that it could be scary. And most importantly, that friends sometimes pop up when you least expect them to. Amigos para siempres, as they'd usually say.

The Girl In The LRT

2005-09-21T21:19:00.000+08:00

Sometimes, amidst the rubble that has become your existance, you find hope. That one person that crosses your path each day. The same person that though you've never been formally introduced, nor exchanged even the simplest of hellos, carries with her calmness, warmth and love; the attributes you so sorely miss and so badly need.

If there would be reasons to wake up in the morning to plough through the rubble and debris, its because you might, just might, cross paths with her again. I hope for it each day. The sight brings kindness and calmness only found in the deepest solitary spaces of your inner heart. A mere brush, a stolen whiff of her perfume, hidden glances. You know there could be something. Youd know, only if you made the first move.

Attraction transcends a pretty face and a perky ass. I am this much closer to life. I've seen her twice. I want her in my life. If only...

Merdeka!

2005-09-01T21:46:00.000+08:00

Kemerdekaan bagiku, bukanlah berkaitan dengan perjuangan sekumpulan cendiakiawan dan ahli politik. Kemerdekaan bagiku, bukanlah teriakan dan laungan dipagi hari. Kemerdekaan bagiku, hanyalah jiwa yang bebas daripada belenggu pemikiran sistem sokongan kecacatan. Tidaklah aku hendak mencerca orang kurang upaya, aku hanya ingin meluahkan perasaanku sebagai seorang yang berani meraungi kehidupan ini tanpa pertolongan.

Hakikatnya, generasikulah yang paling alpa dalam menjalani kehidupan. Setiap satu mengharapkan pertolongan, sokongan, bantuan. Mungkin pada suatu masa dahulu moyang kita terpaksa bekerja keras demi menjaga cita-cita dan harapan mereka. Betapa bezanya kehidupan dahulukala berbanding dengan falsafah tunggak negara kita.

Kibarkanlah bendera kemerdekaan kita. Berusahalah mencapai masa depan dan impian kita. Janganlah mengharapkan dorongan dan bantuan pihak luar. Disinilah berakhirnya tangan yang hanya sanggup menggapai angan-angan kosong. Disinilah bermulanya kekesatan dan keperitan usaha gigih, yang akhirnya hanyalah untuk kebaikan diri kita sendiri. Bukankah ini makna sebenarnya kemerdekaan?

Ingatlah bahawa tidak seribu tahun, seribu generasi kita akan dianjakkan pertolongan pihak luar. Ingatlah bahawa semakin lama kita dilayani bagai orang kurang upaya, semakin lemahlah kita, dibuai kesenangan hidup, ditolak diatas kerusi roda, hidup dalam kecacatan usaha, ketandusan pemikiran. Bilakah lagi jika tidak sekarang kita bangkit menghadapi cabaran. Peluang keemasan tidak menunggu mereka yang ketinggalan. Hanyalah kehampaan dan kekesalan menanti mu diperjalanan hidup itu.

Our Pals, The Indons

2005-08-27T11:42:00.000+08:00

WARNING: IF YOU LOVE INDONESIANS, HAIL FROM INDONESIA, OR JUST WANT TO MARRY THEIR CHILDREN, DON'T READ THIS POST. IF YOU BELIEVE IN FAIR AND HONEST ARGUMENT.. YOU MAY TURN AWAY NOW TOO.

For a long long time I had wanted to comment on the haze. Every single lazy, jobless day in the office I sat at my desk contemplating. I thought, why fan the fire (literally)? I ought to be a polite, neighbour-loving Malaysian. Love thy neighbour, Big Joe commanded. Don't do unto others what you won't do to yourself the famous saying goes. Yeah, fuck all that to hazy hell.

For a very long time the Indonesians have been jealous of us all. A deceitful and bitter lot really. The Kiasu King Singaporeans were always top of the ASEAN class with their autocratic democracy, followed generally by a tussle for second between Turbulent Thaksin Thailand, Lagging Malaysia and rank outsiders, the Drama-Queen Phillipines. As of late though, the Constipations, Aquinos, Arroyos, Copulations and Macapagals of our region have gone to the dumps, due to, what else, infighting. Brunei generally don't figure in any plans, as the Sultan "sapu's" everything (including his poor father) in his greedy path, while the Myanmarese play Double Whammy with Human Rights military rule, as Cambodia and Laos go about their business in confused chaos.

Nooo. Not the Indons. A brash and outgoing lot they are. They wont stand aside, while Pertamina, with its much, much wider base of resources squats in the perpetual longish shadow of Petronas. Nope, not due to corruption. Just due those unfair Dutch bastards at Royal Shell. They wont bear with Malaysia sending back all their citizens without work permits. Oh no. Not a single aid for their own people (we bore all the costs). Knowing that Malaysia will cripple with the shocking lack of blue collared workers, they withhold any of their citizens from coming back with a proper work permit. Hmm, we need 300 Million more processes for approval they thought. Don't even get me started on claims for useless islands on unproven oil reserve territories in the middle of pirate infested waters. Oh, and howabout the snatch thieves and burgalars? The balls of that fella that wanted to register his child as a Bumiputera by cheating our registration office. Mother Fuckers.

I've not commented on the haze have I? Its really just a case of fucking us up every year. "This is how we clear land since our forefathers". Fuck you stupid Environment Minister of Indonesia. If your forefathers cut off their own cocks as they licked creamy Dutch balls, would you do the same? "We don't have enough people to fight the raging fires". Wonder why our New Straits Times decided to publish a picture of Indonesian volunteers, in clean white canvas shoes, and specially made t-shirts and trackbottoms, emptying a pail of water onto what looks like peat soil? I used to remember viewing footage of American firefighters in action in California, extinguishing bush fires. They happened to be in full gear, soiled top to bottom in soot, and looking like they could sleep 30 hours after that ordeal. Don't seem to remember any smiling Indons in school shoes with buckets. Poor arsed excuse. Oh, and the balls to start blaming Malaysia companies for starting the fires. Didn't you say that this was how you cleared land since you came crawling out of the forests?

And what did our government do about this? "In times like these, I look for Divine intervention. Lets all have special prayers." I choked on a glob of haze when I read that. For now, I am NOT voting for that weakling to be back in office. Our leaders are supposed to fight for our rights and interests. Not placate to bullshit slung from across the Straits of Malacca. Finally, after the haze had cleared, due to 3 days and 3 nights of Badawi prayers, we deploy our first batch of firefighters. Yay, lets help our neighbours extinguish the fires they started. Yay, lets pay for it ourselves. Yay, we love giving handouts to neighbours who don't give a fuck about us. Wished a Tsunami hit them a second time. At least it'll help extinguish those impossible peat fires, whilst killing all the culprits who set fire to the jungle. But, what of innocent women and children? I say.. Go especially for the women and children. Women will give birth to children, and children will learn to burn jungles to clear land, just as their useless forefathers. (Yes this is all written in poor form, damn me.)

And what of the next time something like this happens? Oh, lets do everything all over again! Lets all wear masks, be sick, breathe fucked up air and pray that the winds shift direction. Lets send our brave men over to Indonesia a day too late. We can't stop them from burning forests. It's how they have been clearing land since their forefathers. No no no Malaysia, don't intrude on the way our neighbours do things. Lets just be polite and drop like flies from poor air while praying for rain shall we?

P.S. I have met some very nice Indonesians. (My great attempt at balancing out my arguments)

The Reinvention: Me

2005-08-08T21:06:00.000+08:00

Recent events have forced a rethink. To reassess the current situation. To devise ingenious ways of making me happy again. I've come up with a solution. A cunning plan if you may call it that (Oh how I love Black Adder). I call it: Reinventing Yourself. Ta-daaa. Yeah, not much of a new idea.

Question that has been bugging me the last 2 hours in the gym, is how do I go about reinventing myself?How long will it take before I see results? And do I really want to be like the mother of all self-reinventions, Madonna? Err, not really. Does anybody have a blinking idea of how to do it?

Actually, now that I've thought about it, I've decided that a physical approach to this would be all wrong. I mean conical bras, prancing around the stage in leotards while making millions off wanking boys does sound appealing, but it all tires out, eventually. I want something substantial, something lasting, and something that comes from within.

I want to change the situations/surroundings that affect my life, and the way I react. I want to feel alive again. I want to change the way I think, the way I look at a picture and the way I approach each day that passes. I want too many things, while still not knowing how to accomplish it.

I can see now that it is a long term project. It involves courage to do the things I have not even contemplated previously. Most of all, it involves more dark days, before I see light again. I shall go boldly where I have never gone before. I shall start by eliminating those that no longer bring value in my life. To move to new surroundings, detach myself from what I have become accustomed to knowing and loving. This is something I have to do every 10 years of my life. Question that lingers now is, do you bring value to my life? Goodbye, if I don't say it later.

Midweek (ok, not so midweek) Gripe

2005-08-04T22:08:00.000+08:00

What has transpired over the last couple of weeks regarding the AP issue has made me sick to the stomach. Pariah-ing a 60 year old ex-economics professor over a bunch of certificates is one thing, but blaming her for the poor performance of Proton, well that's just pathetic.

So, I hereby pledge, that I will never buy a Proton. No car company that would stoop so low as to say it's doing poorly because of foreign imports (that are more expensive anyway) deserves my hard earned money. As far as I am concerned, I'll take my chances with the rickety public transportation system. You be my witness.

My get out of the pledge above clause is that when they do buck up (or fuck off), I will consider owning one. Else, no point being patriotic over something so pathetic, no matter who is at the helm, as advisor or otherwise.

Of Bastards and Dogs

2005-07-31T11:41:00.000+08:00

I live in old-suburbia PJ, where streets are lined with decrepit bungalows, built in an age where very much every other part of PJ was nothing more than acres of rubber estates. In this part of town, all you get are ancient Tan Sri's, Datuks, YB's and generally old people, living out their years in what they deem as idillic. To me, you just end up feeling older in the company of old people. Doesn't help that chicks are rare and far between (by this I mean the daughters/grandaughters available). When you do find them, they're just about old enough for you to call "kakak/aunty". Far cry from Sri Hartamas (where I used to live, back when it wasn't as famous).

What we DO have though, are lots of dogs. On the street I live in, 11 of the 17 houses lining it have at least 1 dog. On average, there are about 1.5 dogs per house I reckon. A real animal's heaven this. Now, I've got nothing against dogs, and I must admit that most of them are pretty friendly to the frequent walker like me. What I am against, is the releasing of dogs in the evenings and nights, so that they can do their thing (poo digested Pedigree Chow Chow) all over the street. Its disgraceful really, how old and well off people cannot and will not be a little more civic conscious.

Most people don't give a dogs ass, because they don't have to walk along the street. It becomes a minefield in the mornings, having to avoid, sidestep and jostle my way around piles of dogdung. This, while chewing on breakfast, and planning my working day. As if that isn't enough to contend with, everytime a car goes over a pile of shit, it multiplies the patches. Spreading the joy all over. What was essentially one pile turns out to be 5 patches after a car goes over it. Have another car go over the patch, and it's multiplied again. Reminds me of my art project in kindergarten.

What should have been done is an amendment to the municipal laws (along with its due enforcement of course). If owners can't be bothered about picking up after their dogs, pound every single unattended animal outside the owner's compound. Animal needs exercise? Tough luck, you'd have to bring them for a walk yourself. Not let them run free dumbass. Else you'd prefer me picking up after your dog, after which I will throw your dog poo on your spanking new Mercedes. Owning pets brings about responsibility, just in case you don't know.

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I was on my way to breakfast this morning when I passed by a newspaper vendor. There, one particular headline caught my eye. It said, "Anak Halal Jadi Haram" (From legitimate child to bastard). With just about every other newspaper talking about the fuel price hike, this was the exception. Not wanting to spend RM 1 on what is essentially tabloid material, I took a brief glance at what the article had to say.

Apparently, it said that a father was grief stricken when he found out he couldn't put his name on the birth certificate of his child because his marriage certificate was fake. Question. Who the fuck comes up with fake marriage certs, and for what purpose? Where the hell did he obtain a fake cert, and lastly but most importantly, isn't it stupid that a father not be given his right to put his name as the child's father in the birth cert?

These cases brings back the whole ideal of marriages in our often religious and cultural eyes. I'm guessing that the guy probably got married somewhere along the Thai border to avoid detection by his first wife, either that or he just bought a certificate so as not to get caught with his pants down in a dingy motel when religious officers come knocking. Else, I can't forsee any other reason as to why the state religious department itself would issue fake marriage certs.

Of greater importance is the fact that they will rather let the child be a bastard child, without a father to "call his own", rather than having a man, who professes to being the father of the child, being allowed to claim so legitimately. I really do hope it has nothing to do with being legitimately/religiously married. Is this, or is this not a flaw in our system? What is the rationale of having marriage be prerequisite for being a father? What the fuck is happening?

Gripes of the Week

2005-07-20T22:02:00.000+08:00

I don't get it. Why would a woman wear a very svelt, body hugging low cut white blouse with black bra to "match", only to fold her arms everywhere she goes (or hide her boobs behind a file/bag), even while walking. What is the logic of wearing something like that but not wanting to show off? Off course I'm going to stare at you. Woman, you've got nice breasts.

Wow, we have a Klu Klux Klan in Malaysia. Supposedly going around in robes and masks, torching concrete teapots in the sky kingdom, "in the name of Big Joe". Wonder if they have pointy white hats, meet in swampy areas, and crucify anyone. Oh, and true to our Malaysian way of doing things, they've only managed to "cause some minimal damage" (want to copy, do some serious damage la wei). Malaysia boleh. Hope mass graves aren't next on the list.

Oh Vanity!

2005-07-18T21:34:00.000+08:00

I feel like a fucking peacock. Everytime I strut out my door, out come my technicolor feathers. I have bounce in my steps, I strut like I've got balls Federer could hit around the court. I've become, as most of you could have become accustomed to, the proverbial 20's male.

Like it or not, I seem to have a sudden uncontrolable need to show off. To market myself like a cheap whore flagging attention. At one point in time in my life, and that wasn't that long ago, I used to think that I had no use impressing the fairer sex. Now, I can't stop the hormons oozing from every pore and hole in my body. I don't even need to try. It comes so naturally I feel like crying knowing what I've become. My wallet has stopped wailing.

You know whats really weird? I'm not alone. Every single one of my friends have the same uncontrolable urge to do the same. Everyone, to many degrees and extends, have changed somewhat since the scruffy mornings of university. And its not confined to the males. Even females have that uncontrolable urge too. Maybe its just that time in your life. Where you need to snag your other half before the next bastard/bitch takes him/her.

But what is the point? Whats the point of spending so much time, money, effort, on something that is so unguaranteed? Don't ask stupid questions. Its nature. No one can blame nature. How do you blame something you didn't create and you can't control. Right? Damn beer gut and bald spot. I hate being vain.

Morning Has Broken

2005-07-10T22:15:00.000+08:00

I woke up today to the warm Straits of Malacca breeze. It has been a while since I've slept so peacefully, no matter how short the sleep. Something though, kept me from the feelings of Hensel and Gretel when they first saw the witch's house of sweets. I remembered a time when Port Dickson meant so much more to me than just a popular retreat. That seems to be the problem with memories; the feelings never last more than that moment it happened.

I walked to the balcony, half dazed from one too many party drinks, and soon found myself staring into the horizon (there wasn't much of a horizon, since the fucking haze is back). For such a beautiful morning, I kept wondering to myself as to why I couldn't muster that smile of satisfaction to welcome it.

It occurs to me, that in the grinding toilings of life, no one manages to muster smiles in the mornings. Every single day, I sit patiently waiting for my bus, crossing paths with the same people, at the same time, caught in the same routine. Everyone goes about in automatic synchronization, in controlled chaos, all being poor slaves of the system. Parents, school going children, office workers, busy bees, white collared, blue collared, Malaysian, Bangla, Indon, expat, all with the same expressions of emptiness.

Makes me wonder how many of us truly thank the heavens for that extra day in life we have. Makes me wonder how many of us truly want to live that extra day. Makes me wonder what I can do differently tomorrow. I don't want to be a slave. Maybe if I smiled more I'd be ok. Hopefully no one would send me to the loony bin.

Lately, I've come to believe that if you have a fucked up morning; you have a fucked up day. You can overcome this by bypassing the mornings altogether by waking up in the afternoons (or not waking up at all, ever), or you can best make sure, to the surest of sures, that you'd have a great morning. Hence, todays resolution is to wake up a happier person tomorrow. To thank Big Joe for giving me that extra day. To finally sit at the bus stop, and not sigh at what has become of me, the want-away slave of life. One day I shall be master.

Big News! Big News!

2005-07-02T22:19:00.000+08:00

Darnit. I'd have to set the record straight now. I did not, in my previous blog, diss PETRONAS. To those of you smart enough to read between the lines, please don't. Everything should remain at face value. I am greatful to PETRONAS for all that it has given me, and would gladly serve my bond with them. That said, I am actually practicing the first rule of office politics. Covering your own ass. Go PETRONAS!

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Moving on. Big news of the past week. Firstly, Isa Samad gets a suspension for practicing money politics. Highly politicised stuff and extreme coverage by the media. Why? Because he was a big fish. Not the small fry usually investigated by the ACA. I say, Badawi has made his point. No big fish is safe from investigation and punishment. BUT, really, once you zoom out, how does this really affect us? Yeah sure, he had it coming, and it does send out a statement to the other people wanting to dabble in corruption. My question is, what have they done to those who recieved the payouts? I'm sure there must have been at least a 100 of them, right? After all, he did garner the most votes in the last party elections.

And what about corruption in general? What about the small fries out there that are directly connected to our miniscule lives? The corrupt district officers, policemen, municipal staff and enforcers, approval agencies staff etc etc. These are the people that we meet everyday. The people that we come to contact in everyday working life. These are the people that really make or break a project/person/day/bank account. Do you really think that 6 years suspension of a big fish is BIG enough a deterrent for those mentioned above? And if it does prove to be a deterrent for these people, in true Malaysian fashion, for how long will it remain an obstacle before things return to "normalcy"?

Finally, what becomes of Isa Samad himself? Despite being charged and punished, he still holds the title of Tan Sri (a respected person by any standards). And as far as I know, he remains Federal Territories Minister. Question remains as to whether we could tolerate a "convicted" corrupt official remaining in a very influential position, carrying a very influential and highly regarded title. This will all simmer down, and he will bounce back. All politicians die hard. Go Malaysia!

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Recently, the PM came out with a statement that he would crack down on printed media/advertisements concentrating on sex. Almost immediately, everyone condemned it. Bloggers went all out criticizing the merits of such a move and clearly projecting displeasure. The psyche remains that when freedom is challenged, people will make noise. Ask us not to do something, and in true teenage-raging-hormone-fashion, we will revolt.

All I can say is this. Sex sells. Sex is scandalous. Besides murder and price hikes, sex, in all forms, is and remains big media material. The media, be it Barisan owned newspapers or the ever popular chick/dick mags all have tons of material on this. Just in different forms. For example, while the newspapers might not be so brazen as to suggest naughty foreplay techniques, they do give front page coverage on the serial rapist that raped 2 tourists and molested a boy. Not the same thing you say? How about the murder case of Noritta Samsudin? True, it was a murder case, but I am sure EVERYONE remembered reading the highly explicit contents of the court proceedings. Feel like cracking down on NST, The Star, The Sun, Berita Harian, Utusan Malaysia, Harian Metro, Tamil Nanban, Sin Chiew Jit Poh and Nanyang Siang Pao, Badawi? How about a six year suspension for them as well? Oh, we have to start with a show cause letter. Anyone interested in starting up a newspaper with me? We'd have immediate market share and the cream of the reporters crop.

Now for the rest of you readers and bloggers. Quit complaining and criticizing. We live in a global world. If we really absolutely have to reignite our sex lives with sometimes very brilliant ideas, google the contents. I'm sure you'd get tonnes of results. And if you think reading from the computer screen strains your eyes (and other parts of the body), I'm sure as hell that you'd be travelling overseas, or know of someone travelling overseas that can help you bring back a mag or two ( I didn't have any problems what so ever bringing smut in through customs). You don't have to go far, Singapore has some pretty decent selections. And if even that doesn't cut it for you, we still have the RM 31 Cosmo's and FHM's. Variety IS out there. Go chick/dick mags!

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Badawi, Badawi. Your intentions are noble and brave. Its commendable, but I haven't seen any details of your plans, whether its combating corrution or upholding asian values (I will never agree with the government being moral policemen, but apparently the masses do). Do you even have a plan to begin with? David won against Goliath because he had a gameplan. David, come to think of it, may have won against Goliath, but that was an isolated case. Many a David-wannabe after that have been squashed by the Goliaths. Sadly, you are the David and the system is the Goliath. It'll be a pity if you get squashed. Go Badawi!

Lazy Arsed Sorry Excuse Of A Blog

2005-06-27T21:15:00.000+08:00

A number of things have happened in the past month that I've been away from the blogosphere. Because it has been a WhOLe month, I can no longer recall the minor incidences. (Ah, now I remember that I'm actually quite a forgetful person). But anyway, I am not thatt old yet, and I think I do have all my braincells functioning, so I will make a "short" summary of the entire month that has gone by.

True to its label as a multinational conglomerate (international professional robbers), PETRONAS made me sit through 2 weeks of an orientation course. This was done, presumably, so that I do not have misconceptions of my beloved PETRONAS, and to provide me an with opportunity to socialize. That said, I died of boredome by the end of the first week, and they buried me at the end of the 2nd week. But, I now think that PETRONAS is the best company in the world, and I have made many new friends. I am now in heaven (In a Clockwork Orange-esque sorta brain-washing way). Of the things worth remembering from the entire brain scrambling, is the following pantun (cant remember the english name for it). Translations in brackets.

Berkawan biar seribu, (Make 1000 friends)
Berkasih biar satu, (Love a single person)
Berkahwin biar empat, (Marry 4 women)
Yang lain buat spare part! (Keep the rest as spare parts)

Its things like these that make me a proud malay. By the way, there were other numerous terms that I had picked up, including Bapak Naga ("Father Dragon": One up from the normal buaya term), and mangkuk tingkat (haven't really figured out what this means). I kind of appreciate BM abit more now.

Upon my return to office, I was greeted by about 100 work related emails. I was also greeted by about 1000 junk mails. Thank you my friends for you very kind contributions. I now not only feel that I would willingly sacrifice my balls for PETRONAS, but I am also willing to sacrifice my balls AND cockS (you know how when you see something really huge, cross eyedly, you'd see many of it) for a kid from *&%&%-stan living in extreme poverty with a half-arsed-toothless-three-legged-mountain-goat. I have turned into a very compassionate human being because of the many emails received. I shall now proceed to rape that three legged goat and have that boy for breakfast, cooking him using PETRONAS cooking gas.

My vision is all blurry now, and my head is aching from stupid petty problem solving at work. I hate Italian companies, and I will tell you why tomorrow. Darn Italians. Learn. To. Read. English. For. God's. Sake. (The pope is in your country isn't he?)

My First Time

2005-05-24T21:34:00.000+08:00

I have in my hand, a box of g-strings. No, not the stringy, butt-floss female kind, but the male kind. The kind with a little more cloth and comes in boxes of threes. Now, before everyone brands me a fat, spectacled pervert, I would like to clarify here, truthfully, that I did not buy it. I would have to be crazy, amorous AND gay (yes, for fear of being beaten to death by navy boys, I would have to mention that straight guys wear them too) to have put my money into it.

I inherited the g-strings. From my uncle. Yes, the dead one. The stuff you don't want to know about dead people. Fact number 1, he was even more portly than I am. Fact number 2, he had a rather small bum, which would rationalize his g-string fantasy. Fact number 3, and I will repeat this as many times as needed, the g-strings were NEW and previously NOT worn. And now that I've mentioned fact number 3, fact number 4 was that my uncle used to have a problem with incontinence. I know fact number 3 because you can never fold underwear the way manufacturers do when they pack them into boxes. And you never leave tracing paper in between. And as you can see here, I am comforting myself for fear of having worn used, previously soiled underwear.

So I had to have a try. It was, well, small. Very small. Actually tiny for my size. Note for fat people. If you absolutely have to wear butthuggers (briefs), please do NOT buy g-strings. Not only is the cup extra small resulting in you sounding like Minnie Mouse, you'd have to suffer the agony of having a permanent wedgy at all times and burn your eyes everytime you look at yourself in the mirror. I burned my eyes looking at my pot belly hanging over whats visible of that g-string. However, on the plus side, you get to pretend that you're a german S&M gigolo, you'd never ever have to worry about skidmarks (because of the lack of cloth and because the g-string grips your asshole tight), and. And I cant think of anything else.

Maybe if I do end up with washboard abs and a butt women would crave, I might consider walking out of the house with it. However, I do not want to attract navy boys, or army boys, or Bai-is (yes, I am being racially insensitive here, but can someone please explain to me why is it a majority of my friend's parents think that Bai-is and anal intercourse go hand in hand). For now, I shall stick to my trusty boxers. I love boxers because my balls are free to dangle in delight everytime I pull a David-Hasslehoff-opening-credits-of-Baywatch-move. I will, on special request, entertain horny middle-aged aunties if they want me to strut around almost naked, in a g-string. Only if the price is right. Come on aunty! You can do better than 5 bucks!

It's all about Science

2005-05-14T23:35:00.000+08:00

Alternating between hot and cold only invites a sickly feeling. The gutted body sends messages to the brain, duly received, processed and equally as fast, messages are sent back to the body. The body collapses and subsequently shuts down. In certain cases, waking up from bed becomes too painful to bear. All you want to do is lie in bed, dwelling in and out of a parellel world. One created only in the mind, of subconscious desires and thoughts. In other more fortunate cases, the person is up and about in no time, as spritely as ever, until exposed again to the same unfavorable conditions.

It always seems better to just stick to either. To dabble in a mixture of the two always seems to bring undesired/disastrous results. Even more so, if the change appears so sudden. It seems sometimes that we invite this upon ourselves. Exposing ourselves unnecessarily to volatility and unpredictable shifts. We willingly walk in and out of conditions thinking that we can cope with it, stretching our own capabilities, our bodies, our minds, our souls and our senses.

We forget that we are no longer as elastic as the young ones. That sudden extremes, that violently swinging pendulums, will rip us apart. Being the jaded, weary person represents the inelastic curve of our lives. Long gone and forever missed were times when all that we did would not be enough to break the elastic limit. That we could wake up the next day, dandy, in normality, back where we started. The only things we could look forward to now, is the peak of ultimate strength before we wither in denial and snap to oblivion.

Then, just then, it'll be all over. Exposure to oscillatory conditions are dangerous because of one thing only. Unlike constant pressure, which has a predictable, controlled and progressive ending, oscillation creates a situation of fatigue. Fatigue works much slower. Fatigue works by exposing yourself to both extremities, as well as the neutral mid-point of no pressure. Back and forth like a ping pong ball. Fatigue is capable of destroying anyone, no matter how strong that person is. Worse of all, you can never, ever, accurately predict the point of failure. When it comes, all you can do is regret.

The Chink In My Armour

2005-05-08T02:19:00.000+08:00

Death in the family always strikes a chord in even the most hardened of souls. He lived a good life, and although he was a doctor's nightmare, he managed to go through every day very much acting like his jovial self. He stepped on many toes and stomped on many feet, but at the time of his demise, he had his entire family by his side, standing by him, supporting him as he breathed his last breath. His funeral went on smoothly, and turnout for subsequent prayer sessions was purely amazing. Though not many would have wanted his life, I'm pretty certain that there is no better way to pass on, then to be where he was, loved and supported.

Right now, I envy him. I envy not his position deep in his grave, but I envy the attention he received, even though it came too late. I envy the fact that although he was far from perfect, he had a wife that doted on him, and family that cared. I envy the thick and thin that he and his friends have gone through, and I especially envy the privellege of the good, honest and loyal company that he kept.

Day by day, I am turning into the loner that I didn't want to become. It has come to a point that not one of the persons that have crossed my crooked path can truly be depended upon. When it comes to the crunch, I seriously wonder who'd be there sticking by me, covering my back. When I am in the crunch that I am in now, I can't help feeling like the battle is mine to fight alone. I've become tired of companionship, tired of the work that has to be put in it. I've become weary of obliging and broken from giving in. I want to give up.

I try to be the person that I want to be, but I only end up wearing a mask that hides my feelings. I don't know how much longer the pretense will last, nor how much longer this facade will hold, before the glaring sadness in my eyes crumbles it all. I know for certain that a lonely death would be the only befitting ending to my drifting faith. I fear that. But more importantly, I fear living a lonely life. Friends and family will always be around me, but inside me, I am in darkness, in solitude.

Kopi-O Ideas

2005-05-02T22:29:00.000+08:00

I really should be sleeping, but here I am, indulging myself in the one activity I have not been able to bring myself to carry out, blogging. It has easily been an overworked week for me, but maybe I'm just not used to the "joys" of work and the much maligned and dreaded, working life. Things do NOT look too bright at the current moment, as I immerse myself in paperwork. When I do manage to tunnel my way out of it, I will let you know. "Welcome to MITCO!" someone said to me the other day. Funny how he seemed to have the most mischievious of smiles. "I'm the new waterfish in town, so please use me!" the sign on my forehead read.

Was happily going through the papers this morning when I read the grimm headlines. No. No family perished in a 35 vehicle pile-up, and no, Badawi has not decided to make my life more miserable by increasing the prices of alcohol. However, some of his underlings/minions/kulibataks (pick the right noun) have managed to come up with a idiotic new ruling to flog to the masses. Apparently, someone, somewhere, decided during one of his/her (lets be gender unbiased today) many 10am kopi-O sessions that the best way to deter drunk drivers would be to suspend indefinitely their driving licenses. I have never imagined that the universe was actually capable of such stupidity.

Now, this brings a few things to mind. We are all aware of the legal limit of alcohol in the bloodstream, but really, how do we tell whether we are over or under the limit? One pint of beer really doesn't have that big an effect on the system as is led to believe by the government. Would it therefore, be a good business proposal to offer breathelizer services, especially to those who think they are borderline cases? (We could expand the services to the Im-going-to-puke-at-any-moment-but-would-still-like-to-take-
the-test-for-fucks-because-Ive-got-RM10-in-my-pocket-now, for the sake of it.) We could even organize contests for most drunk, most stoned and most able to walk straight with 4 times the legal limit in his blood. Oh the possibilities.

Right. So after I've won one of the many contests, and conned by my own business because I too decided to take several blows into my breathelizer, do I absolutely want to be conned by the taxi drivers too? More like, would I have any money left to be conned by them? This is when the seriousness and implication of such sordid and extreme rules comes to effect. I agree that in certain cases, it is right to take drastic measures, but steps have to be taken in order to ensure that the public DOES manage to get home safely, without being ripped-off by some taxi driver. Another business plan: why not offer value added services, such as a reliable and competitively priced fleet of taxis to cater to those who really shouldn't be driving. Services will also include the taxi driver ensuring that the customer actually manages to get into his/her house safely. When needed too, "other" services could be arranged. Everyone gets home happy.

See, this is the problem with bureaucracy. Ideas always seem effective at the mamak under the tree, but rarely any thought is given into enforcement, and ensuring that the interests of the public remain paramount. How come no one has decided to suspend indefinitely the licences of those taxi drivers that are caught ripping their customers off? My father said that they cant suspend the taxi drivers because politicians own the fleets. So, where do we, the non-politicians, the people that are just looking for a little bit of fun and stupidity, fit in?

SOS

2005-04-18T22:09:00.000+08:00

My router has given way. This means that I would:

Have to blog from my father's computer. (No privacy, no comfy room, too many peering eyes)
Not blog at all until my father replaces the router. (Distinct but very real possibility, but this could be for days, or even weeks, since he doesn't consider the router to be top of his priority list)

Such is life. When things die on you, you look for a replacement. Wish human relationships were that simple. By the way, first day of work was today. Officially a new chapter in my life. PETRONAS, remains in my eyes, as just another glorified government department.

Will try to update in the comings days. I am aware of my obligations as a blogger, haha.

Marriage Porridge

2005-04-15T01:00:00.001+08:00

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, as with most fairy tales, a princess will find her prince and they will live happily ever after. Then, things got complicated. They started having kids, the royal families clashed in ideologies and thought, the royal dog fell ill and died of tape worm disease, pandemic outbreak of chicken flu hit their kingdom, and everything under the sun came raining on them.

This seems to be a problem with fairy tales. They always stop before the shit hits the fan. Sure, the evil witch, or the ugly count, or the big bad wolf will make life miserable, but it seems that after so many trials and tribulations, everyone will find that silver lining and die happy, with their partner buried next to them. It became such an obsession, that kids were, and continue to be brainwashed with the notion of a happy ending. That getting married should be the goal of a lifetime, and that raising a family with a dog and a backyard is everyone's dream.

I, like others, grew up believing in the sacred union of marriage. Of finding the one you love, marrying that person and living a life of happiness, together. I believeD, that getting married meant something big, meant something special, and most of all meant a commitment to one another. The problem is, that nowadays, people give up too easily. I see this especially happening with the western world, where the doctrine stands: if you ain't happy with it, pack up and leave. True that maybe if all you have to do is keep on trying and trying, it'll become tiring and really, those are very good grounds to quit, but where do we draw that little line after which everything is just too much to bear.

Then theres the issue of the need for marriage itself. If there is indeed a bind that the contract comes with, how come more and more couples each year are getting divorced? Does it really entail 2 people working really hard at building and keeping it all intact? If so, then why do some other people see having children as the ultimate reason for staying together, instead of the marriage itself? Why not skip marriage and just go straight to making children? Or do we have a long standing issue with society's perception of bastards?

I know of many couples out there that just suppress all their emotion and anger and continue life, semi-happy, because of their kids. Everyone is frustrated, but hell, putting the kids through divorce is a lot worse right? Really kind of turns you off from marriage. We have enough burden grappling with our work/career and wrestling with other commitments. Yet people still do get married. Baffling.

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If you happen to know of anyone working in the CVLB, please pass this message on to them:

The reason why you are currently being overwhelmed with smses and phone calls COULD be because you haven't done anything at all to alleviate the situation. It COULD also be because no action has been taken to bring all those errant taxi drivers/trailer drivers/bus drivers to justice. Maybe, it WOULD do you some good if you did something about the problem instead of getting your sorry asses wrapped in red tape/political clout/half-baked self-centered driver's unions (or shoving it down some other government departments throat). MAYBE then, the complaints will stop. There is absolutely no point in shutting down the hotline just because you can't cope with the daily traffic it generates. TRY solving problems for a change. It MIGHT work.

The Inner Sanctuary

2005-04-12T00:46:00.000+08:00

There is nothing better than a dose of Ray Charles to lift the spirits. In Ray Charles lies the allure around oldies and its happy go lucky tunes. Even when muddled in sadness, the tunes still manage to lift you from that hole that you've dug for yourself, with your own bare hands. I'm not sure if it's an apt representation of how things were back then, but a little less complication going about life could actually be good for everyone. I guess we all choose the more complicated path, and if you're a bonafide "drama-queen" like I am, the complicated path is always that little bit more appealing.

I discovered today, from a movie for kids ( I won't mention which one, because they would have to pay me advertising fees if I did), how important it is to have a sanctuary to retreat to, even more so, if you are in the middle of that complicated path. I know of a very special Cabbage who takes great solace in cleaning and clearing up ( I should invite her to my room more often), and others who find solace in music and playing musical instruments, or peace of mind in sleep and food.

Which was why I took a very special trip down memory lane today, literally. My sanctuary is a very distinct and intricate web of woven memories, a colorful patchwork made of my happy times. To enter that sanctuary, I go for walks. It can be a walk to nowhere, or a walk in circles at the back of my desk. As long as I go for a walk, the happy times are in. It becomes all the more special if the walks I go for pass by one of the many places my memories have taken place. I just couldn't help smiling to myself, reminiscing, remembering, and missing. To the rest of you, it's just a normal place, with no significant meaning.

Sometimes all we need to do in our hectic, busy bee lives is to sit down, and take a breather. Sometimes all we need to do in despair is to draw hope from the past. Sometimes all we need is to be truly happy. Whichever way we achieve it and by whatever means. Tell me, how many of us are truly happy. Its been a long time, but step by step, I'm getting there. When will you?

Caveman Joe

2005-04-08T02:00:00.000+08:00

The problem with jet lag is that it makes you extremely sleepy at very odd hours of the day. I found myself to be wide awake in the middle of the night, but extremely sleepy as the day awakens. This has led me to sleeping at 6am the past few days, waking up for lunch at 1.30pm, and continuing my slumber until around 7pm. Coincidentally, this could also be due to the fact that prior to my excursion (Yes, I still call it that. Sounds more sophisticated than "holiday"), I've been up to pretty much the same schedule. Coincidentally too, this could be due to the fact that I am fat and like to sleep alot and at odd hours. BUT, I am going to blame jet lag for now, because like all fat, lazy men, I am in denial.

Yesterday, while in the middle of one of my beauty-sleeps, my father woke me up. He asked me to come down and said there was a lot to do. So, being the fillial son that I was, I heeded his commands. He asked me to wear some rubber fisherman boots, and threw me some gloves. I had just woken up, dazed and confused. Then I saw the carnage in my backyard. Apparently the storm had washed half my garden away, with 2 big trees that needed to be cut down because it was dragging and leaning against other trees.

There is an incessant need in all men, big or small, to exude machoness. And I can tell you, that there is no better way to do it than to wield a chainsaw (or drive an 18-wheeler cross-continent). Nevermind that it was a "kuchified" electric chainsaw and not the gasoline powered ones (which I have used before, mind you). I truly felt like the master of that poor half-fallen tree. I ravage it like it was a hot young gorgeous model that begged me for pleasure. I raped it till it couldn't scream in orgasmic pleasure anymore. So that was a little overdramatic, but I really felt like a man in charge, like I was emitting so much sexiness that any woman passing by would eagerly want me to be the father of their babies. My sperm felt strong and agile. Mighty sperm.

Which brings me to another point. I believe that the driving force behind all humans on earth is the need to continue the line, to maintain the family and produce the next generation (in other words, to fuck and get babies). Everything on earth that we have done, from the time we were foetuses to the time we die is geared to ensuring the survival of our species. People might say, how has going to school got anything to do with procreation? Well, the reason why we go to school is so that we will be equipped with basic knowledge which will expand as we progress and finally lead us to our degrees. Then we look for a job, so that we can all become independent, appealing and support the family that we might be building. Families usually mean offspring. Adopted kids are also a legacy of their parents.

But what becomes of the old maid, or the 50 year old bachelor? Truth is, nature is all about survival of the fittest. Species' will continue to survive and evolve because it is the strongest and is able to. I may be mean by saying this, but maybe old maids and sad 50 year old bachelors aren't meant to be the strongest around. And so their legacy dies with them. Since it is the survival of the fittest, it's about people snagging the best the opposite sex has to offer. To some this may mean the smartest of the lot, to others the richest, or the strongest, or most feminine or most beautiful, or most interesting.

Which explains why men feel a primal need to exude testosterone and machoness. Look at me, me Huggawaloo *thumps barrel chest*, me strong *kills 2 woolly mammoths for breakfast*, me can operate chainsaw *ravages the neighbours hedge*. If only my father didn't build that perimeter wall. I'd be busy making womenkind happy now.

The Unforgettable Trip

2005-04-06T03:30:00.000+08:00

The hiatus (yes, I realize that 1 month is too long to be called a hiatus) was almost everything I had expected it to be. The UK, and Europe, was every bit as exciting as I had hoped it would be. The environment was a good change. The weather. The weather was appealing, but that depends on where I was. I covered so many places, saw so many things, and experienced what I could never experience here, in Malaysia.

I went on the trip with hope in mind. I came back from it with a different type of hope. There were times when I thought it was all a lost cause. There were times when I thought that all I wanted to do was to return home. The first two weeks were hell for various reasons. It left me emotionally exhausted, emotionally detached, and physically incapable of moving. I was decapitated by what I was experiencing.

I had gone there to see my girlfriend. It was meant to be the culmination of 3 years of planning and finding the right time to execute it. We didn't expect it to be like how it became. When the time finally came, we did it. We broke up after 5 and a half years of being together. (That was actually our second breakup, having broken up a long long time ago). It was painful, it was harrowing, but circumstances never allowed us to be together for as long as I had wanted us to remain.

It was meant to be a closure. A month for us to close the sincerity that was our relationship. To say the last words, to prepare for moving on. I secretly hoped that we wouldn't end, but hope remained as it was, hope. The days following was especially difficult, because Prague and Paris were two enchanting and romantic cities. Paris especially, was every bit as captivating as we were led to believe it was. We chose the cities because of that. We ended up going together as friends. It was depressing.

I remember sitting together in the Parc du Champ de Mars, facing the Eiffel Tower as sunset approached. We had just finished walking the entire of Paris across 6 arrondissements in just a day. She was next to me. But she was so distant and detached. We argued as the Eiffel sparkled for the first time that day at 7pm. We left what was potentially the most romantic setting on earth angry and enraged with one another.

Since that day, we have kissed and made up. When trouble hits our relationship, we retreat to bestfriendome, a safety kingdome to ensure that we never really part. It has happened once before. We are still seperated, but somehow bonded by something greater than common love. There are so many years left and so many opportunities. I do want her to experience everything before settling down. My hope as I return, is that one day, God will reward me for being so loyal to one person.

She told me once that its not about the places you go, but who you go with. So that was what my trip as about. Spending time in Nottingham, Manchester, Prague, Paris and London with a person I had come to love, and will probably continue loving. The future remains uncertain in many many ways, but if it was predictable, it wouldn't be so interesting, would it?

I am OK? No?

2005-03-14T23:00:00.000+08:00

The heart and tear duct are connected via what I would like to call an "emotional superhighway". Everytime the heart cringes in pain, sorrow and defeat, an almost instant reaction of tears will well up. Insta-tears. This is most common in women. Not all women, but most nontheless.

In the emotionally retarded man, it takes a little more than just average cringing of feelings. In men, tears are usually painful. Painful to admit and painful to release. So, when a man wails and drowns himself in tears, its because he can't take it anymore. Its because its all gone to a point that if he doesn't wail and cry his heart out, he WILL go insane. Emotional realease. Again, not all men, but most.

The sight of a full grown man crying is anything but pretty. Its embarrassing, degrading and un-macho. No man would admit to it, and no man would openly do it. Yet, somehow, it helps. Yet, somehow, everyone has done it at least once in their lifetime. Yet, somehow, we all feel better afterwards, both men and women. It all seems temporary, but temporary relief is better than none at all. Ask the heroin addicts, they all know.

Of Bulls and Pretense

2005-03-08T14:13:00.000+08:00

Bullshit. The universal fuel of life. Burned on by a healthy additive dose of pretense. We all do it. We all encounter it. We all have to live with it. There are many instances in life that do not just aim to test you, but aim to wipe you out altogether. We put up our pretenses, and bullshit everyone into thinking everything is ok.

"If you can't dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with bullshit."

Actually, you can safely skip the brilliance part and go straight to the bullshit. Saves time, brain matter, and effort. So, in this world of lies and deceit, how does one pick apart the bullshit from the truth? It becomes especially difficult when the bullshitter is extremely good at what he or she does. Even more difficult when the bullshittee was born yesterday and is oblivious to how cruel the world can be. Or that the bullshittee is in love (same effect).

I've come to think of it as a simple assimilation. That something that starts out as factual truth will eventually morph its way into bullshitdome. And that the vice-versa seems to be in agreement with this little theory of mine too. Don't bother yourself with deciphering too much bullshit, and over time, it WILL turn out to be true. Either that, or you'd be too fucked and knackered (new word, new word) to even notice and care.

I've been known as a bullshitter all my life. At the present moment however, I've been stripped of my powers at the top of my perch. I am, as I've put it, a bullshittee now. God have mercy on my soul. (Pretend everything is ok. Pretend everything is ok.)

P.S. It's cold, I'm freezing, but I'm enjoying myself. Will keep you updated, as I've promised.

Eyes Wide Sepet

2005-03-03T00:49:00.000+08:00

Tomorrow, I leave for London (yes, this sounds sudden, but I've been planning it for a while now). Just a mere excursion, but I am hoping to accomplish several goals. I won't elaborate on those goals, because I believe that if i reveal them, I will never accomplish them. Funny. Never thought of myself as being supersticious. Most importantly, I will elaborate on those goals after I have safely returned from my excursion (this is an understatement), a month from now. Wish me luck. By the way, I will attempt to post regularly whilst I'm away, in case something interesting pops to mind.

I had a few important matters to attend to today. Namely was watching the much touted movie, Sepet. A movie is good, if it has a good plot, good acting, good script, and resonable editing and directing. A great movie, in my opinion, is one that you can absolutely relate to, plus all of the above. Sepet engages you from the very beginning, with very mundane, but clever scenes and cuts. Again, the core of the movie is portraying familiarity of everyday life to the viewer.

However, I thought throughout the entire feature, that everything was a bundle of contradictions. Not in a horrible way, but more in a Ying-Yang, balance of life and nature way. Everything, from the backdrops, the scenery, to the characters and their attitudes had so much of a stereotype as well as de-stereotype about them that makes you tingle in confusion all over. Everything seemed, to me, both reality and fantasy. Both real and made up. Orked (I keep on pronouncing her name as Ork-ed instead of Or-ked) for instance, was both conservative and liberal. Ah-Loong looked to be the typical Ah-beng, until he opened his mouth to reveal excellent english and supreme manners.

Even more unlikely is the relationship that Ah-Loong shares with his friend Keong. Though it has its very realistic ye-hei (honor amongst friends) and believable friendship elements, it also has a very unrealistic use of English as the main medium of communication ( I spent 5 years of my life in Ipoh, and I have never ever heard 2 chinese guys talking to each other in anything but cantonese or some other chinese dialect). Some scenes too, were totally queer, like the telephone chat between the friends toward the end of the movie.

But picking on the nitty bitty details doesn't and will not do the movie justice. Sepet, to me, has to be watched as a whole. Only then will one appreciate its true meaning, and how wonderful each and every event in the movie is tied to one another. I feel personally, that the theme of the movie, while centering on the on-screen couple, is not about the inter-racial love affair at all. The love affair between Orked and Ah-Loong is only meant to tie the movie together and thus is a distraction from its true message, which is the binding and loving institution known as the family.

I can't help but feel envy having seen the bond between Ah-Loong and his mother as well as Orked and her parents. Both sets of elderly are portrayed as guiding, loving, caring and compassionate people. Both sets display the common goal of enriching their young and guiding them toward doing the right thing. Both parents, are ideally what parents should aspire to be like. The scrabble scene was especially touching to me because of the closeness and bond that was displayed by Orked and her parents (Rare is the sight of a family so physically loving without being labelled incestuous). Even the baddie in the movie held firm to the family if not in his own underworld way. And as wrecked as Ah-Loongs family was, they kept with the tradition of eating together as a family, the symbol of family unity.

As to what Sepet should make you feel, that is entirely personal, depending on how you view the movie. For me, it made me appreciate my parents more, even in their shortcomings. As for the inter-racial affair, you have to be in one to know how difficult it is, and how your parents, and his/her parents, will never be like Ah-Loong's mother and Orked's parents, the understanding, universal, pillars of support for their children. All you'll get, are many many versions of Ah-Loong's father, the man that coughed and almost choked on his dinner when he was told that a malay girl called for his son (My favorite scene).

The King am I

2005-02-28T02:30:00.000+08:00

Some people take a walk. Others, they stare into emptiness. My friends, often are lost gazing into the window pane, or the computer screen. I, I sit on the throne. Some of the most important decisions of my life have taken place on the toilet bowl. Well, truth be told, I've not had that many important matters to mull and deside upon, but even the most mundane of decisions need to be made, right?

Over the next 2 months, I foresee spending a great deal of time deciding over the golden throne (yes, it is really gold in color). In the water closet, I am the absolute Agong (King). I preside over a small area, in a country with a population of just 1 person, me. I am royalty, commoner and slave, all in one. I rule in silence and in concentration. That's when decisions are best made, when there is nothing around you to prod your dwellling mind and break the thick fog of thought that you're engulfed in.

Until you hear a plop that is (Or several. Flatulence not counted though). By then, all 5-10 minutes of then, you should have made your call. Effective isn't it? No sleeping over it, no reiterative thoughts, no merry-go-rounds. All in less than 10 minutes. All not to be regretted at a later time. All done before the bomb's been dropped.

"Cuckooburra's King of the toilet bowl. Merry, merry king of the bowl is he. Flush, Cuckooburra flush, Cuckooburra flush" your worries away..

Hope I don't become Prime Minister. Might end up with piles.

Pringle Mingle

2005-02-24T12:04:00.000+08:00

I gleefully opened a can of Pringles. My fat greedy hands wandered its way into the can. Out I pulled a handful of chips. Oh how I utterly enjoy pigging out on a can of Pringles. I popped the first chip into my eagerly awaiting mouth. *crunch.. crunch munch munch*.

"What the fuck is wrong with this Pringles? Tastes like someone spilled Tioman toxic residue into the can " I thought. I continued pigging anyway (Because I'm fat and I want my Pringles). My left hand which was holding the can put the green tube up to eye level. There's something wrong with this can I thought. Wait a minute. Its smaller, thinner, and weighs less. Kind of what I'd very much like to become. But also kind of like a dick that no woman would want.

Interesting discovery. Malaysia manufactures Pringles. Now news for all of you. My favorite can of Pringles at this very moment tastes like shit. Am I the only self respecting portly junkfood connoisseur out there that thinks I could feed the Pringles to stray cats and even they would puke? Does anyone even notice the change in taste? Why oh why did they have to spoil something so perfect? No wonder they had to actively advertise it in terrestrial tv. No one really wants to buy Pringles anymore. (FYI, I took a whole 2 weeks to finish the can on my own. Unheard of. No one takes that long to finish a can of Pringles.)

It baffles me sometimes how anything good can be screwed upside-down, inside out, right-side in by a Malaysian company. Its the same with just about everything else made in Malaysia for local consumption. Companies seem to think that all Malaysians really want are cheap poor quality goods. No, make that free poor quality goods. But free is impossible, so cheap is the next best thing.

We don't deserve quality. For us, substandard Proton cars that break apart after 10,000 km, with electric windows that don't work and signal sticks that snap would suffice. We can give all the better quality cars to the Mat Sallehs in Norwich. They deserve quality products. They pay with British Pounds. We have to lick their asses. *Yumm Yumm*. Tastes better than Pringles.

I am not going to stand for this. I would personally rather pay Rm1 more for quality then to pay Rm1 less for what I can get now. Why is it that no one in the marketing division of any company seems to understand this fact? Stop feeding duckcrap products into the Malaysian consumer market. I say we deserve to eat/use/consume the same products that anyone else in the world consumes so freely. I blame the exchange rate. We can't afford shit with it. Yes I have a personal agenda. I am a selfish prick who only wants the best my money can buy. I yearn for quality. Heard that Badawi & Rafidah? Wake up and smell the Kopi 'O'. We ain't a 3rd world country anymore. We've got no use for 3rd world shitty products. Where is my better standard of living that you've promised?

Parent's Currents

2005-02-21T18:40:00.001+08:00

Foreign feelings. That is what I've been plagued by lately. Plagued is not the exact word, but bothered nonetheless. Up to a certain point in time, I couldn't care less about my parents. I saw them as just people temporarily responsible for me, people that are supposed to pay the bills and keep me alive. I never leaned on them for emotional support, ever (This made me a reclused perve and burdened by my own adolescent problems - excessive wanking). They were too busy with my siblings to have enough time for me anyway*queue sad violin tunes now*. They did mention though, that they were lucky enough that I wasn't troublesome like my sister and brother. Well, lucky enough that I hadn't confessed my troubles and wrong-doings to them at least.

As I've aged, and they've aged, the situation has changed significantly though. No longer do I show apathy toward my parents. In fact, I've evolved one step further by actually caring for their overall well being, feelings and health. Long gone were days when I would do everything and anything I wanted without a care for what they think. Now, everything in my life seems to be at the very least geared toward making them happy as they prepare for their twilight years.

This has made me wonder though. In all the responsibility that has befallen me as the eldest child of the family, how much am I obliged to give? Obligation is a very powerful word to most of us, and is frowned upon by the young at heart. I for one, am still strongly against obligations, be it social, political, economic, religious or racial. I still believe that we should do something because we want to, and not because we are forced to. The line is getting thinner and thinner though, as sometimes, because we are forced to, we want to.

Not only am I wondering how much I'm supposed to give and do, I've also started wondering how long the lingering influence of a parent should remain in the child's life. I know of some friends whos parents still play an active, major role in all forms of decision making. I know of others who are afraid to do certain things not because it is wrong, but because their parents will find out. (Yours truly for one. I am not ashamed to admit this: I am still financially dependent on my parents. Dang.) So, is it expected of a child to devote an entire lifetime to his/her parents, in the hope that the cycle will continue with the child's offspring? What happens if the child is bad? Will the horrendous cycle of hatred continue deep into the coming generations? Who breaks the cycle then, if the cycle can't be broken? Doesn't make sense.

I understand the deep underlying need of all parents to continue protecting their child. But in our society in particular, I find the problem of letting go to be severe. In other cultures, children are expected to leave the home, in search of their own life by a certain age. Not even remotely similar here. Parents will fight tooth and nail to keep their little babies at home for as long as possible. Pleasant to know that parents still want to continue exerting their influence on the child for as long as they shall live.

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Today, my father told me about the story of a great socialist of the 1960's who was framed and thrown into the ISA, accused of being a communist. He was telling me about how this politician was revered as the true champion of the public cause. Then he went on about how the politician's son, who is also a minister as his father was, is so different from his father. His son, I had to agree, is an absolute powercrazy nutcase. A real piece of arrogant elephant dung gone sour. But really, besides being the obvious asshole that he truly is, is the son truly obligated to be and act like his father?

Must I be accountable for my father's actions, as he is be accountable for mine? Where in the entire sanctity of a society such as ours does it state that a child should continue to act exactly as his/her parents are acting? Why is it that the actions of a child, which is mutually exclusive and personal, is often related back to his/her parents? Shouldn't each and every individual be personally accountable for his/her own actions? Must there continuously be a link between parent and child?

The child, as I have realized will one day become a parent. In most cases. I'm guessing that I am not in the right position to fully understand the innermost insecurities of most parents, until I become one. I used to want children. I've even got their names down. Now though, I think I'd rather not. For fear of being insecure, as my parents currently are.

Melancholic Despair

2005-02-17T23:00:00.000+08:00

Melancholic despair. The rhapsody of harrowing pain, hurt and indignity that has become my existance. Long vanished were days of everlasting sunshine, of playful clouds dancing to the tune of my mind. Laboring to prove that there is indeed a need to continue this suffering. My heart struggles for conviction. None more so, than at a crucial time such as this. I am in pain.

Designated I have become, the banished soul of a cheerful lover. Though dignified I am in this exile, I continue my masochistic ways. The road back to colorful rainbows may have long passed, but heaven it is that we shall continue searching. Even if heaven ushers different realities to the both of us. To be hurt, or to hate, are those really choices? Differing degrees of hell is what I see right now. How deep do I want to fall? Will it be all the same, no matter how deep I go? I am in pain.

Deep in a rut. Our fight almost over. All that we've worked for, ruined by the clipped wings of hope. Darkness befalls all that surrounds us, eclipsing even the once mighty but befallen spirit. No one can help me now. No being powerful enough to intervene. God, the God that we all know by different names, is a mere back-bencher under these circumstances. A sadistic spectator of truths and outcomes. Let everything unravel, He says, for only you control your destiny. I have no more strength for destiny. I am in pain.

Transportation Menstruation

2005-02-17T03:15:00.001+08:00

In a nutshell, this was what I wanted to write about today:

"Our intracity busses are a load of crap. Rapid KL have taken over nothing but the management. They have somehow managed to con everyone into thinking that replacing the stickers, logos and ticket stubs are enough to pass the busses off as new. This is what I would call rebranding I guess. If I were to rebrand my lazy ass Ashton Kutcher/Brad Pitt/Tom Cruise/whoever it is the girls go gaga over, wonder how many girls will fall for it. If only it were that simple. I think I'll call my roadside stall Carcosa Seri Negara. Nice ring to it all. Ill even pay for a new signboard.

Knowing then that the busses are a load of old, stale crap, I would like to invite the upper management of Rapid KL and the Transport Ministry along with its Minister for a plonk into that old, stale piece of crap. Take it to your workplace for one month boys and girls. See how you feel. Suddenly the stickers outside don't look too inviting huh. Maybe then they'd stop trying to convince the masses that everything has truly turned for the better. Bloody conmen/women."

Actually, there was plenty more from that article, but all I could remember was what I've written above. The rest has been swallowed into the abyss by the great internet service we all know as Blogger.

Small Talk

2005-02-15T15:51:00.000+08:00

Staring into emptiness, my view was suddenly obscured by a very attractive girl. Real eye candy. Naturally, my jaded eyes followed her across the cafe, right up to her seat, which was very conveniently right across mine. Apparently, she and her parents were also guests of the function I was invited to. I was elated. There, seated in front of me, would be the focus of my evening. Finally, a reason for me not to feel like killing myself out of boredom in the company of old men and women. We proceeded to the buffet spread, and I had the worst time of my life. This was because it took my horny, usually chatty little mouth a whole 1 hour before I mustered my first words to her.

"Ha ha Ha *Laughing my most macho laugh, ala Schwarzenegger* 1 month!" I proclaimed.

This was in response to a question on how long it would take me to study and successfully resit my SPM exams. (I know, farfetched. I didn't have much choice. The other guy said that he could do it in 2 months. I had to prove my mettle. I have bigger balls). I wanted to hit myself in the head. Of all my stupid one liners and pickup lines, this was all I could muster. However, all was not lost, for as the evening progressed, we were quite engrossed in the conversation we were having.

Once we had left the function, I realized that I had made one critical error. I didn't ask for her number! Then I realized that I had made another critical error. I hadn't even remembered her name! I hit myself in the head hard this time. But I consoled myself in the fact that it was a feat to Buaya (malay slang for flirt) with anyone in front of her parents and that small talk saved an otherwise boring and reclusive function. I could tell that she liked me. Honestly.

************************************************************************************
Yesterday morning, I was asked by my prospective employer, an oil and gas company headquartered in Tower 1 of the Twin Towers, to go through a medical examination. I willingly obliged thinking that it would be a two bit examination done in haste, like the ones I had gone through before.

An hour had passed, and everything went well. I was ushered and herded into many different test rooms including tests for HIV and drugs (I had wanted to take the HIV test for quite sometime now. Very nice of my prospective employers to pay for it. I am also very lucky that it has been a while since I smoked pot). The final phase of the test included a physical exam conducted by the attending physician. As usual, he checked for my blood pressure, did an oral exam, ear exam, eye exam and so on.

Then he dropped the bomb. The door behind me closed. He asked me to remove my shoes, my socks, and my pants. (I know that its normal for a doctor to request something like that, but here is a burly, bald, goateed, middle-aged guy asking me to do it. I was a little scared for my virgin ass. Took me a full 10 seconds before I took my pants off.) He asked me to lie down and all of a sudden, the serious looking doctor became really friendly and chatty, engaging in, you guessed it, small talk (I was really afraid now, refer to first story above). While I was replying one of his many questions and comments, he suddenly grabbed my family jewels. All of my beloved Royal Scepter and 2 Feberge Eggs. I gasped for air. Then he asked me to cough, while explaining that he's now going to perform the test for hernia.

*cough cough, cough cough* (It was the most feeble of coughs anyone could muster. I had trouble coughing because someone was grabbing my balls)

He conducted the test, looking straight into my eyes and continuing the small talk. I felt relieved that there was something else for me to concentrate on besides a guy cupping my balls. Small talk saves the day yet again. Luckily I didn't have an erection. Imagine what the doctor would have thought of then. Imagine what I would have thought of myself then. Imagine if it was a cute female doctor. Imagine if it was the girl I had met earlier posing as a doctor.*Imagination gone wild*

Lessons from the past weekend. Small talk is absolutely important. To those who cant, please learn how to. It might get you your girl, as well as keep you away from very awkward situations. You can even grab my balls without feeling awkward (Please don't try unless you don't have a pair). The power of small talk.

Thieves

2005-02-11T15:21:00.000+08:00

Cik Sabehah (not her real name) had just given birth to illegitimate triplets. There was much fanfare surrounding the birth of her impoverished kids, but top of the topics were the questioning of her abilities to raise and feed her offspring. She had been a single mother almost all her life, having previously given birth to children that almost did not care for her. What irked the public most was her willingness to bear and deliver the fruits of her irrepressably itchy loins. Men just moved in and out of her life, like the changing of meals in a day(She had 2 meals a day). She however, just went about her duties as a mother, ever so dilligently.

This was how the "Kampung Melayu PJ" (Malay Village PJ) gang came to being. Out of wedlock. The three masterminds of the gang, the illegitimate children of Cik Sabehah, ruled the area with such guile and bravery that almost belittled their physical abilities. One day, Abu, Mot and Lang (not their real names either, children of Cik Sabehah) had planned a daring robbery at my Aunt's house. It was daring, ingenious, and cunning. Unknown to the occupants of that house, they crept in through the unlock backdoor. Having studied the daily habits of my aunt, her husband and the other occupants, they were pretty sure that it was impossible to get caught.

My Aunt walked straight into them that day. She yelled, hollered, screamed, with all her might. Then she called me. Fortunately I was in the house that day. We took a pail full of water and splashed it on the three siblings. They ran, with all their might. We knew that water would hurt them. We gave chase and spashed some more water. "Darn cats, trying to steal the food," I thought.

Cats, hate them. My friend once told me that cats are like a Malay family. They just keep on giving birth. Nonstop. Litter after litter came. Litter after litter went. That's partly the reason why I hate them so much. They just can't stop giving birth. Sex machines. Nymphomaniacs. Why don't I spay them? Try catching them.

Back when I lived in Kampung Sri Hartamas, (back then it was a village, peaceful and quiet, no impeding highways running through it ) I used to go wild dog hunting with my peers. Hard to believe it, but we did. We would cycle all the way to what is now the Kerinchi Link and shot stray dogs with handmade guns. This went on until there were no stray dogs left, after which we aimed at the general canine population. Suffice to say, one day, us boisterous village kids got scolded by a very irrate owner of a top breed dalmation.

So I turned my attention to cats instead. I had a pet cat once. I knew cats weren't for me. I tied a noose around its head and wanted to take it for a walk one day. So out we went. Except the cat didn't want to budge. It made so much noise, I tugged some more. Reluctantly, it followed me for a walk, dragging half the road underneath it with its outstretched claws. Poor cat.

Then there was this one time I was with my cousin at my grandmother's place. We went for a walk and got bored. Kids, you know. So we devised a plan. His job was to grab a kitten and throw it into a dog's holding pen. My job was to watch in glee and run as hard as possible when the owner came out. It was a mess. I was a fat kid, but I can't remember any other time I've run as fast away from anything. We could hear the dogs owner, the barking and mauling of the dogs, coupled with terrified shrills of the kitten from 4 houses away. Poor cat.

Third incident occured in my hostel in university. I was minding my own business when this nice little kitten came into my room. Apparently it was just lost, and wanted to be friendly. I was friendly alright, stroking it, playing with it. Then I left the room to pick up an assignment that I was about to copy from a friend of mine (I maintain my innocense. It was more a valiant attempt at discussing the correct answer, of which he derived and I checked.).

Horror of horrors. I came back to a room that didn't smell quite right. traced it to a corner of the room where I found the kitten laying there asleep, next to a pile of its own poo. Ever seen a flying cat? Neither have I, up to that point. Threw it out of my first floor room window. The bastard didn't die. Two hypothesis proven correct. Cats are bastards, and they do have nine lives. Poor cat. Again.

I would like to state here that my hatred for cats run deep. I much prefer dogs, even though during my youth, I've abused them. All you cat lovers out there, please take good care of your cats. Don't let them stray into my path, lest you want me to shoot them with my handy Black Widow steel limited edition lastic (is that what they call it in English? Couldn't find the right word)

P.S. In a totally unrelated incident, today I saw my 84 year old grandmother's tits! *More screams of horror* Almost went blind. Burned a hole in my retina. Why oh why did they have to clothe her in that Baju Kuring singkat (shortened malay womens dress)

Maligned Malay

2005-02-09T20:06:00.000+08:00

Before you continue reading, it is advised that you read Tv Smith's and The Roadie's entries on the topic above. Further links can be found at the sites mentioned above.

I grew up confused, and am very much still in searching (No, I've pretty much made up my mind on gender issues =P). You see, by name, I am Malay. I enjoy everything a bumiputra enjoys, and that, in droves. However, by genetic predisposition (I am very much into genes nowadays) I am more Chinese than Malay. See why I'm in searching? I grew up the Malay way, and grew up the religious way. I've left all that now, and carry none of what I've learned when I was growing up. While searching for my true identity then, I've more often than not ended up confused. As hell. Doesn't really help that during the most formative years of my life, I was exposed to racism. (My father and his siblings formed what I would like to call the anti-Indian-and-everything-black-that-moves alliance. The only Indian they ever supported was Kalimuthu aka Batang Kali, for the sole reason that he killed other Indians.)

This type of exposure continued in school. My friend once asked me, what is the difference between a Malay and a bucket of shit. I knew what was coming, but asked for the answer anyway. He replied: "The Bucket". Then there was the "Dayung Sampan" (Row your boat) story. I was hurt, and angry. Hurt and angry enough that I wanted to punch his face. But I didn't punch him. Instead, I laughed it off. I became his close friend. Being one of the very few Malays in my class, I was constantly rediculed, made fun of, and as always, the butt of all racist jokes. This however, made me think. It didn't make me ashamed of being who I am, but it made me think.

From then on, I set about trying to change my friend's perceptions of Malays. In the process however, I lost everything that I've ever stood for as a Malay Muslim growing up. I got my share of praises alright, but I lost everything that has made me, up to that point, me. The weirdest of praises that I've gotten was one from an acquaintence in university who said that I was like no other Malay she has ever met. Two questions had popped into my head at that very moment. Am I that different from most Malays, and has she even met a Malay to start with?

Then came the first defining moment of my life. Up to my university days, I've befriended everyone. However, due to the nature of my school, I was rarely in contact with Malays, except for the few in my class. So, this carried itself into university. Unfortunately, my university was predominantly bumiputera based. Within a week of being there, I was universally labelled by the Surau establishment as "Setan" (devil) and "rosak" (morally spoiled). I was hurt, and angry, a second time. But the difference was I was ashamed of who I was, the Malay. I alienated them as a consequence of their actions (I didn't alienate all the Malays, just the bunch from the Surau. This little incident did make me dislike Malays somewhat though).

To make things worse, behind my back, some of the ultra-chinese chinak were branding me lost and confused and didn't want my company (who said that the Malays were the only ones who talked behind peoples backs and backstabbed?). Great, my "own kind" hates me, and the kind I wanted to be and hang out with hated me too. Fortunately, some others were kinder in thought, and took me in. Toward the end of my time in university, I was part of a very racially mixed group albeit being the only Malay in that group.

Right at this very moment, I've stopped trying to be any particular race. I've decided that the best way to go about my soul-searching is to be who I am comfortable being, the human being. No particular race nor religion is necessary for being that. I am the individual, the person that only strives to be responsible, strives for self improvement, and strives to do the right thing at the right time. I see no use in explaining myself to anyone, nor labelling anyone anything (though sometimes it does help the raging blistering heart to cool down if explatives were thrown at a certain type of people or individual).

I don't see races or religions anymore, but see mere individuals that do not do a race or religion justice. When I generalize (also known as stereotyping) I do not do it unless I truly feel that the general population IS like that. So, instead of condemning our kind, or condemning others for condemning our kind, or just plain condemning other kinds, why not spend time improving ourselves. Why not go out and prove those racist bigots wrong. Be who you want to be, not who society and religion wants you to be. Frankly, I don't care anymore what other people personally think of me. I just go about being the best human being I can. Call me "lupa daratan, tak ingat tuhan, kelapa parut" or what ever. I don't give a shit. As far as I'm concerned, I am trying to be the best that I could ever be.

Lessons to be learned:

We don't need Pak Lah to tell us that we need to buck up. (Watch Remember the Titans. Patronage only makes us weaker.)
Sometimes all we need is a little/big jolt(of racism) in the ass to get us moving.
Incest is bad.
Daughter Banging is worse.
People come up with stereotypes because there are enough examples out there to warrant that stereotype. Try very hard not to be a statistic.
We should all try NOT to be whiny (Do something about it instead), lazy arsed (Can't help it sometimes), poison penning (I strive to become instead of bring down), idle gossiping (Love talking), pyramid (What the fuck is a pyramid Malay?), under achieving (My greatest fear), daughter banging (Don't have daughters), bickering hypocrites (Bickering, weall do it, you've all done it. Hypocrites? Hate them). Humans are humans afterall.
Accept things as they are. Move on for the better.
Individuality rules in the end.

P.S. I hope I don't sound holier-than-thou. Just wanted to share my thoughts.

Fleeing Siblings

2005-02-09T09:18:00.000+08:00

I envy the families that my friends are a part of. Specifically, I envy their relationship with their siblings (With the exception of 1 or 2 similar cases). Granted, almost everyone has spats, quarels, banter, wrestling, death threats and incest brother sister sex, but somehow, barring illegitimate children and dead bodies, everything works out well and good.

I had a fallout with my younger sister not so recently. Thinking about it, I was amazed with how long it took for us to have that fallout. At age 6, she threatened to kill me with a butter knife. From 7-11, she used her claws to such great effect, leaving me with a scar I can still see today. At age 12, when she was bigger than me (she was big, I nicknamed her nangka(jackfruit) because of her shape), she would trash me at wrestling, regularly pinning me down. I survived physical abuse just fine. At age 13, when she was finally proficient enough in the English language, she started arguing for a living. Then hell broke lose.

Whoever the socially inept retarded asswipe that came up with the little saying "sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me" must have been high on morphine in some dank, piss ridden back alley, with rats knawing his balls off. Either that, or he was born a deaf fucker. No, that can't be, because I would have still been able to write a derigatory essay to a deaf fucker.

Needless to say, at age 21, she went too far with her mouth on a very very wrong day, and received the beating of the life of her left arm. A nice big black swollen area on her upper arm prevented sleeveless tops for more than a month. I was happy that I beat her left arm up, mainly because it was my last chance to. ( A tinge of regret though, because I really wanted to punch her teeth off. But I thought again that an ugly bitch will be unmarry-able. This will pose problems to me, as this would mean that she would be hanging around longer. See, Im considerate.). My father, the sly sly sly man that he is, was secretly happy, mainly because someone had inadvertantly done his job for him. My mother was there, watching it all unfold, because well, I think shes got a sadistic streak in her.

If you're thinking at this moment that I am the seriously brutal wife beating redneck type, think again. I was on the receiving end of abuse for the better part of 15 years. It took me 15 years to crack. I've also stuck my neck out for her many many times. (When my sister turned 18, my father wanted to marry her off to a 50 year old mamak man, knowing that she was already getting out of hand. He was dead serious. I intervened and pleaded to let my sister continue her studies. Biggest regret of my life. If not I would have had a rich mamak brother-in-law by now). I know plenty of guys who crack for much much less. Plus, I've made it clear that I am severing all ties with her. So, no more beatings, just that one joyous, fulfilling, relieving moment.

So, what recent incident brought up this story? Well, to cut the story short, my younger brother is up next. Sadly, he's only 11, and hes got a mouth that his brain can't keep up with. If he has brains to begin with. We would be happy if he had a brain that was half as smart as his chicken backside mouth was. I would really hate to end up beating his left arm too, and severing all ties. However, only time will tell. Don't think though, that for even a darned second, that I would have any grouses about severing ties with him too.

Call me what you want, label me as you like. I'll pass the bitch over to you to live with and see how you fair. I'll happily throw in my brother as a free gift. We know how much Malaysians love free gifts right? So, any takers? OK. I'll throw in a lifetime supply of Cameron Highlands vegetables for the unlucky human being. No buddhist monks are allowed to participate in this scheme.

2005-02-07T17:12:00.000+08:00

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

Sex: 2 Pax

2005-02-06T23:47:00.000+08:00

I was sitting down minding my own business when my mother ambushed me. She sat down and I commented on an article that I was reading in the newspapers. I never really knew how the hell we ended up talking about sex. 10 years too late at that. Funny. I never expected it to be at all embarassing and certainly didn't expect it to turn out the way it did, all mature and "professional".

My parents once commented when I was 16 that it was too late to talk about sex merely because they thought that I might know more than they did. I laughed my way to my room, which left them baffled. Later however, I found out that my father kept a secret stash of sex-help books centering on performance and pleasure (He also had a stash of porn which I accidentally stumbled upon). Sly old man he. Didn't want to share his secrets with me. Tsk tsk tsk, selfish. Little then, did I expect my mother to be gauging how much I knew about the topic and comparing notes.

We didn't discuss much about the mechanics of sex, rather, more on reproduction itself. She started talking about genes, and how strong my grandfather's genes were (He had 6 sons and only 2 daughters). I wanted to say that it was because he had a long dick, pounded it in, shot it deep and yelled hurrah! It, however, didn't come out like that mainly because I have respect for my stout dead grandfather, and I pictured him "doing it" with my 84 year old grandmother and it burned a hole in my head.

So I said that it was instead, due to conditions of the vagina, cervix and uterus, to which my mother agreed. Then I related to her a story my science teacher told me in secondary school of her female ex-student who soaked her nether regions in baking soda water for 30 minutes before sex (I wonder if the baking soda leaves her vagina dry and caustic). At the time that story was related to the class, the student had successfully delivered 2 boys for the family cause (No dwelling on the importance of males. Sensitive topic amongst women). Needless to say, my mother was amazed and reaffirmed her belief that if a male heir cannot be produced, it is because of the woman, and not the man. Science is on my side on this one. Feminists, you can send your dogs back to the kennels.

This was when the conversation got weird. She said that in order to get boys, I had to stop thinking about pleasuring my woman and making her come. She said that I had to fast from sex for 2 weeks before the peek ovulating period of my wife, find a comfortable position, get to it and come as quickly as possible. ( I translated this as wanking for 2 weeks and banging my wife hard on the kitchen table when the time came.) I was pleased with how my mother viewed sex.

Then it bloody dawned on me. My mother wasn't interested in talking about sex. She was interested about conveying to me her need to see grandchildren. Shit, my father is sly and my mom is sneaky. She has apparently reached an age where she is insecure about longetivity and life. Problem is, I'm still young, and as far as I know at the time of writing, I've not been promised to a sweet young thing yet. I'm fearing for my life now, because my father is sly and my mother is sneaky. Who knows what they could be up to.

Lessons to be learned. If you want a son, women have to soak themselves in baking soda, while men have to fast for 2 weeks and fuck her hard and fast. Its all hardwork really. As for parents, if you see them approaching you with intent to talk about genes, duck for cover. Avoid the salvo. Run Forrest, run. Lest you've already delivered the goods.

P.S. Having then known that its pretty hard work conceiving a child, makes you wonder how the hell some people have all the luck in the world conceiving illegitimate children. My mother says its because they're not under stress. Hahaha.

Mediocrity for You and Me

2005-02-04T22:41:00.000+08:00

My biggest fear in life, besides waking up naked next to a she-goat in my parent's bedroom with my parents staring at me, is being labelled mediocre. You know, just so-so, average, Tom, Dick and Harry, not good, not bad.

Mediocre. Damn. *Cringing in fear*

I've always believed that I had potential to do well and me being in my life, I'm not the only one that realizes this. I've constantly got weight over my shoulders and a burden to bear. Weight that becomes increasingly heavier and more difficult to hoist as life progresses from one phase to the other. I live in total fear of not making it, of not living up to expectations, of not doing well and of not doing well enough to meet those expectations.

In a way, I am lucky to have expectations. Being the laziest thing on earth (yes, many a piece of driftwood has succumbed to my lazy prowess) I need that sort of jerk, to jumpstart and override all my stored laziness. Most of the time however, it doesn't work, subsequently leading to more rushed instances where I produce sub-par results and performances. Back to being mediocre. Until I can find out for sure if I make it in life or not, I shall continue to be in the worried state that I am currently under.

Doesn't really help then, that our society celebrates mediocrity. Everywhere you turn we are honoring the mediocre among us. Every year without fail we give unending bonusses/extra holidays/government stationary to government staff (see what I mean?), every "Hari Penyampaian Hadiah" is littered with not just the usual 1-2-3 spots, but also most improved student/best chess player/cleanest class/3rd most improved student for each class etc etc. Come to think of it, my parents only expect passes (Yes, 40 marks and above out of 100) from my younger brother nowadays. How the standards have dropped. He gets rewarded for below mediocre results! (He gets to watch A Sharks Tale if he passes everything). If I were to bring home a report card filled with passes, my parents would have hung me upside down from a fan and beat me senseless for not trying hard enough. (I am a jealous sibling at the current moment. Where is my Sharks Tale? =P).

So, if kids nowadays are brought up on a staple of mediocrity with generous sprinklings of decadence, how do we expect to progress? What do we do with a nation full of people who are only average, who only intend to do OK, who worst of all are so easily contented with what they have. What do we do with those who think that rewards are around the corner for everyone regardless of how hard you work, or don't work. Don't give me bullcrap about finding happiness and being contented with life and all that. I am talking about desire. About the will to do better than the average Joe. I'm talking about the willingness to embark on a journey of constant self improvement.

This is truly worrying. I might not have to work so hard to live a comfortable life. But then again, I've never been known to be contented with mine. OK, resolved then. I'm going to throw myself in the deep end. Hopefully, I don't drown. If I do, I hope the fish dont start nibbling at my feet. And if I make it, I'll be reminded of those who have helped me stay afloat. After which I will marry the most beautiful one, and make others my cronies. Till then, its back to my mediocre existence, for now.

Fuck Iraq

2005-02-02T19:37:00.000+08:00

Pontooned deep in the everglades of the U.S of A, a father speaks to his son:

Paw (P): What yhou ghot there Jhunior?
Junior (J): Got me a lettah frem deh YooAss Army Paw!
P: I'll be damned! *slaps juniors back in excitement, lets go a couple of sawed-off shotgun shots* Yee Haw! Are yhou damn near ready Jhunior?
J: Sure am Paw! Drill Sargeant gayve meh eh reall screwin the last time Paw! *scratches his ass as a mosquito bites it* Gonna get me some hoehum moeslem ass Paw!
P: You betcha Junior! *shoots an innocent crocodile* Yee Haw!!
J: Mr. Bush sure as hell did deh right thing ehh Paw?
P: Dets right! Ain't me dehh proudest summabitch in dehh confeederatee south! Goonaa send jhunior ere to Eeraq. Dhon't yhou go dying on me jhunior!
J: I swear on this ere white ass of mine that I'll be back ferr Thanksgivin Paw!
*Both of them continue shootin crocodiles and private male bonding*

Junior, being a first time reservist, with no prior training is sent to Iraq. There, he is thought on various ways of getting his share of Moeslem ass. Being lucky to have escaped prosecution after being involved in the oihsadfkjh prison torture scandal, he is posted as a UN watchdog in one of the polling stations in the city of Vhaginah. Junior dies when a suicide bomber rams his kapchai filled with explosives straight into Junior's guard post, killing Junior and 2.71 million Iraqis instantly. The bomber is given a state funeral and hailed as a matyr, while they are still picking up pieces of Juniors liver from the dirt outside his ex-guardpost.

A lot has been debated on the Iraqi war and a lot more has been made into issues, more than what is necessary. I personally don't give a shit if the YooAss army should or should not have invaded Iraq. That's their personal choice. From the conversation above you could easily tell that they're a boisterous lot anyway. Shit, half of them, despite being illiterate-shotgun-weilding -pickup-truck-driving rednecks, bothered to vote that monkey to be president anyway.

What I'm truly angry about here is the fact that everytime a bomb goes off in the name of god and a retarded muslim cleric, it ends up killing more other bloody Iraqis than the YooAss army. Sureee, they kinda repented recently by learning how to shoot down British transport planes instead, but really, how galactically idiotic must you be to boast about it? I'm not sure if they've thought about this, but if you want the satans from the west to get the hell out, the last goddamn thing you should do is shoot down their transport plane. Numbnuts.

I laughed with sarcasm today as I read editorials stating that this be a new beginning for Iraq, how democracy is going to change things and a new dawn will herald future foreign investment to rebuild Iraq back to its glory days. Next to that litter of editorials and personal comments was a huge article on fraudulent handling of aid and reconstruction money. $8.8 Billion still unaccounted for. Try checking the interim president's swiss bank account. It might be there. Just a hunch.

So, why fuck Iraq you say? I think its a simple case of not trying to save someone who doesn't want to be saved. Read the body language of every Iraqi. They're all screaming get the fuck out. My message is this. Get the hell out of there. Everyone. Let that place rot in hell. They'll manage, being the squabbling disunited segregated mofos that they are. God sent 3 religions, 5 Kajillion earthquakes and natural dissasters and 6 Kabujillion wars down there in a bid to straighten them out. Look what's still happening. Don't think Condoleza Rice can do better than God do you?

Bangsa Malaysia (Cultural Uprising Plan Part 1)

2005-02-01T18:54:00.000+08:00

Contrary to popular belief, not all bloggers just sit around and lament about the donkies that are running the country or serenade everybody with useless information like what kind of toilet paper they used today. Yes, I do love to sit down and do my share of kutuking, but then I'm an all action man. So, staying to form, I've come up with the first part of my cultural uprising plan. I call it the Bangsa Malaysia Plan (I plan to make this a reality unlike most people). Todays plan will revolve around making ideal citizens of my country, Malaysia. For the following specifications, I shall rely on foreign technology (secret stemcell technology) that will never be transferred. I have done so because I do not trust Malaysian factories/technology, especially the clandestine ones affiliated with slaughtering chickens.

Physical Attributes

Hair: Straight, bushy and black (to protect the head against harmful rays of tropical sun and rain. Abit like an umbrella). v1.1 will feature dirty blond hair dye by Wella.

Eyes: No eyes will be necessary. This is to ensure that we continue ignoring everything. v1.1 Might develop slight slitsin v1.1, as brainwashing progresses.

Nose: Small, flattened nose more sensitive than a dogs nose. This is to ensure that everyone knows where they are going, due to lack of eyes.

Mouth: As big as can be, so that we can continuously talk behind peoples back. Also so that no secret is kept to themselves. We are a caring nation. No secrets should be kept away from anyone.

Ears: Similar to the eyes, non-existant. Bangsa Malaysia will be too busy talking rather than listening. v1.1 will be equipped with mini hearing aids, like your grandmas.

Skin: 5 inches thick. This is to block out the suns harmful rays (Aren't I a practical person), and to absorb all that skin-whitening shit that is religiously spread on it. Thick skin also usefull for armor, and asking for extra discounts. Skin color will be blue. This is because if you mix yellow, brown, black and fake white, youll get blue (ok, so you wont, but who the hell cares?)

Hands: Wide and fat. Will have to be impossible for any purposeful use other than feeding the mouth, which is huge anyway. Wide hands are also useful for blocking spit and saliva that is spewing out of that large mouth when it talks.

Feet/legs: Athletic. Thinking of Michael Johnson's. This is to ensure safe and fast escape from any work thrown at them. Athletic feet will also ensure that we can at least excel in sports. We can put impending work at the starting block of the 400 M sprint, and before the word go, our Malaysian will be way way in front. This has to be rectified somewhat, so that he doesn't have too many false starts. VCD vendors will also have no problem running away.

Body: Muscular and also athletic. Anybody that learns science will know that such weird upper body attributes will surely need a strong body to prop it up. Plus, muscular bodies are also needed when every form of public transportation breaks down due to poor maintenance and we have to revert back to man-powered mancarts.

Brain: None needed. This is to ensure full compliance. Brains will only lead to more complaining. Plus, half the government departments dont require one as entry requirements. So, I'm halfway there.

Future generations will all be born with those specifications. Bugs will be corrected as we progress, if we progress. Current Malaysians will have to adhere to the Plan and will have to go through tupperware jobs (plastic surgery for all those of you who don't know). Following which is a 2 month intensive brainwashing session. All those resisting will be detained under the ISA and be charged with sodomy. Women too.

Religion: Due to the fact that religion is such a big part of us, I have created a religion to be adored by the masses. It will be called *mumble mumble* (yet to be decided). The faith will center around the worship of the Roti Canai as all powerful and enduring. It's powers shall not be questioned. Also due to the fact that we love religious segregation, we shall have seperate sects and denominations. We shall also have variations of the religion worshiping the Roti Telur, Roti Bom, Roti Planta, Roti Sardin, Roti Milo etc etc. Like the great civilizations of the past (Greek and Roman) there ought to be great myths surrounding the Roti family. Holy water will of course be Kuah Daal or Kari, which will be decided based on popular demand. v1.1 will include possible mention of a warrior god by the name of Nasi Lemak and its legion of Sambal.

A new scripture will be published detailing the religion as we progress. More to come on environment, governance, overseas policies, ISA, taxes, the economy and all those things that are currently part of our lives now. Nothing will be left out.

KingKong Wrong

2005-01-31T14:38:00.000+08:00

I couldn't have been more wrong. Write them off, and they come storming back with something brilliant. I told myself that no one will do anything regarding the Minister's comments on JAWI. A few days ago, the Cabinet had decided that moral issues should be left to families and that the police should concentrate on solving crime.

So, it pained me that yesterday, another minister, whom I don't particularly like had diverted from the main issue by concentrating on how they were carrying out their "duties" instead of the "duty" inself. She does have a point in that more female officers should be included in raids. But what raids? I thought that the government was firm in that moral policing in this country is not needed. Baffling.

Today, more JAWI bashing appeared in the local papers. The NST (my mother's favourite paper and therefore I'm forced to read it although I much prefer The Star) ran an editorial condemning the officers not only for their actions, but for being mandated with the power to carry out such raids. Yay Malaysia, people are finally coming to their senses.

I am a believer that only we are accountable for our actions and that we answer to no one but ourselves and the Big Boss Above. Pandai buat, pandailah tanggung! Betul tak? If I so chose to drink alcohol and party till my head turns green, then so be it. If I chose to dress in 1980's leotards and a bikini top and mix around freely with boys then so be it (no, I don't intend to make people blind, and certainly, I mix in only a very healthy legal way with boys). I don't need a bunch of strangers telling me what I can or cannot do, or what I'm supposed or am not supposed to do.

These incidences are exactly the reason why Islam is viewed in such bad light. This is also the same reason why Malaysia is less favourable as a tourist destination. We have a stupid culture of tending to other peoples clothes (Jaga Tepi Kain Orang). We live in a progressive society, where we are responsible and accountable for our actions. Moral degradation, as they call it, is a very relative term. I believe then, in all of Utopia that I stand for, that for as long as we are good human beings, who do the right things at the right times, we are OK. Do the right thing. That is what matters most.

After all this, I've still got my reservations. We have still not heard from the conservatives yet. We haven't even heard from JAWI. Too dumb to defend themselves? Or just guilty as hell?Wonder what they're up to. Hope they're not planning another raid on some other poor nightclub. In the mean time, I'm hoping to start a cultural and religious revolution that is certain to bring about the end of the world in the eyes of clerics. Who is with me? Hands UP people!

Religion Anyone? Part 1

2005-01-28T18:32:00.000+08:00

I am a muslim. I love my religion. I think of God as much as I think of sex. This speaks volumes for my love of God, because I am a clandestine sex addict. However, I hate the people that make up my religion. I can't stand the fact that religion, which is a personal relationship everyone has with God, is over-zealously turned into public displays of affection for God. I can't stand the fact that I am persecuted merely because I do not behave like most muslims do. I can't stand the fact that fellow muslims exert themselves on me and force me to do things I do not want to do. Most of all, I can't stand the fact how religion in Malaysia divides us.

Forget faint attempts of fostering religious and racial tolerance in school, or the widely condemned National Service, or even the hypocritical group photos our religious leaders take once a year on some special occation. Religion, while having its obvious advantages of discipline and order in life, brings about distinct differences between people. For instance, I would say that the best way to foster any sort of ties and bonding amongst races in Malaysia is for everyone to have meals together as a group. However, the thing that stops everyone from doing this is the fact that not only do we have our quirks for food, we also have religion to contend with. Islam says muslims cannot touch non-halal food, Buddhism states to stay away from meats and to try to be vegetarians, Hindus abhore beef, Christians on the other hand, approve almost everything bar protected species meats. See how difficult it is to get a group of people to eat together?

Besides this, there is the case of division amongst members of a certain religion itself. There are hundreds of Christian denominations, hundreds of muslim sects, wide ranging interpretations on key issues in every religion and religious leaders that can't even agree to disagree. Heck, you can't even get UMNO and PAS to collaborate and work together. Squabble amongst ourselves. Thats all we can do. True to form, I've got plenty to say regarding my "love affair" with JAIS, the Jews and many other recurring religious topics. I'll save that for another time.

So, I've come up with a theory. That for as long as religion remains an integral part of our lives, we shall remain, in essence, Malaysian only by name. We do not live together, would want nothing of each other and would continue to discriminate. I am living in discrimination now, as with all of you, champions of your religions. I'll lower mine if you're willing to lower yours.

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In the news today:

The Christian Priests in the land downunder seem to share my analogy of my love of God. They are requesting for celibacy to be optional (See, I can now liken myself to a priest. We all have our needs =) ). The Culture, Arts and Tourism Minister has asked the AG's office to probe recent complaints regarding one of the many raids conducted by the Islamic Religious Affairs Department of Kuala Lumpur (Nothing will come out of this, because the overzealous bed-wetting-mother-molesting-beastialist-perverts working for JAWI have political and religious clout). The Jewish and Gypsy communities mark the 60th anniversary of liberation at Auschwitz (If you hate the place so much, why not burn it down and redevelop it into a casino with themeparks, a mall and too many hotels for my liking?). Question is, why is religion such a big deal? Is my understanding of personal relationships with God flawed?

I ask myself too many questions sometimes.

Rage Passage

2005-01-27T17:41:00.000+08:00

A young mother of 2 should never lose the companionship/security that a husband brings. A young mother, come to think of it, should never have stopped being a mother to her husband. There have been many instances where a wife, beside her husband in a car, has stopped his ego from flaring. How she would have wished then, that she was beside him. Her presense would have certainly calmed things down, and even reminded her husband of his responsibilities.

Reminding husbands of responsibilities. The act of road rage is never something that should be condoned, for any reason. I am not going to dwell on what exactly happened and what should be done to save our culture from degradation, maintaining world peace and neverending love for one another. Hell, I won't even mention ways on bringing those who murdered the husband to justice.

Agreed, murder is a crime, and no matter the circumstances, should be punished accordingly. However, has anyone wondered why is it that this guy had to die in the first place. Now, I haven't exactly been murdered before, but fights, between grown men, more often than not are due to flared egos. One side taunts the other, and being true to Newtons 3rd law (that any action results in an equal and opposite reaction) a bust up often occurs.

So, why did the husband step out of the car, knowing that he's outnumbered? Why did he bring his stearing lock with him (assuming it was his stearing lock, and if not, refer to question 1)? Why did he retaliate so much to taunts? Why did he do whatever it was he did that incensed the other party so much, enough to batter him with his stearing lock? Why did he call his friend to tell him that he was going to die, why not his family, his wife, his parents, the cops? Why did the press make it look like this guy was an angel sent to us from god, nurtured under the loving armpits of a caring mother to develop into a kind compassionate human being, spreading love and joy to all that he touches?

Rationale often eludes us when we are in rage. It eludes us even more when we are in a fight. It eludes us most when we are dead. Going back to my questions, and staring at his photo published on the front page of the major local newspapers, I cannot help but think that he somehow deserved to die. Sure the bigger picture of his widow holding her two young children, who look unaware that their father has been murdered, does bring me some sympathy. But truly, under the circumstances that they were in, I wouldn't have bothered consulting the devil before bludgeoning him to death.

I say that this is then a case of a road rager dying from road rage. That first thoughts of exhibiting his anger at his "assailants" were met with more than a little bit of resistance. Ask his wife how many times she had to intervene and remind him of his responsibilities, and I will guarentee you that there have been many a time when she had to. So, instead of feeling sorry for this guy, I say that he then got what he deserved. Road rager killed by an act of road rage. That is the way to go. And if, for some weird reason and defying all laws of logic and perception, he is indeed a kind angel sent to us from god to spread love and goodwill among mankind that was unfortunately murdered brutally by 2 men, then let it then be the case that God just wants his angel back. May his soul rest in peace, or pieces.

Introduction Correlation

2005-01-26T19:08:00.000+08:00

I had made a promise never to blog. Blogging leaves evidence of my infidelities, my darkside, my weakness and my will to verbally defacate (I am a very disgusting person) on all those whom I so despise. About 2 months ago, things took for the worse. I now frequently constipate on words, straining myself for words to both come out right, and come out at the proper time. It was then that I had decided to blog, as a means of practicing my verbal skills.

As a ruling (I love setting rules for myself) I have decided that typing blogs will be as fluid as possible, and I will rule out the use of dictionaries, and spellchecks. So, to those of you who find my english erratic, and my spelling attrocious, FUCK YOU. To those who understand me for what I am and how I tend to think, a big gracious thank you is waiting. Apart from that big bold "fuck you", I shall attempt to minimize the use of vulgarities. I don't believe in fucking everything in sight, and would much rather use proper colorful language as my means of hoisting a 6-tonne girder up anyones sorry behind.

So this is it, my first official blog, the one that would define history in the future, and my future today. Pardon the borrowed layout, for I am merely a pawn in the website programming world. Wait for my knighthood and a layout that suits me more.