Yo Ho Ho..

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

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

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

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?

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

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!

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

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!

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)

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

• 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!

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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

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

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

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.