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.