The Crono-logy

Humanity in Autism

2011-09-05T00:13:00.006+08:00

I have been doing some unusual amount of reading regarding congenital disorders lately. It happened ever since I met this wonderful and amazing woman of our time a few days ago. So amazing and unique she is among us because of her autism – and her condition is not a classic one, but a highly-functioning autism that could probably set anyone still at their tracks.

Ladies and gentlemen, I would like you to meet Temple Grandin (whom I ‘met’ on HBO) - a lady of monumental strength that has braved against the strong tides of social stereotypes. In a field that is dominated by mostly brawn-but-no-brains men, she managed to single-handedly revolutionise the US cattle livestock industry; from a brutal system to a much humane one that teaches all of us to treat every living being with dignity and respect, especially if its ultimate sacrifice is meant to keep us alive. And as a frontliner in advocating autism, she will make you understand yourself better as a human being by ensuring you understand what the disorder really is first.

But what made my neurons in the brain all fired up is not regarding how the disorder comes to be. It is rather how the public approaches the whole issue. One of the major highlights that I learnt from the movie ‘Temple Grandin’ and after numerous fact-finding with brain-cracking almost brought me down to my knees with shame. It’s a reminiscence of my childhood during the schooling days.

Before I continue, to give a brief idea what autism is, it is a behavioural disorder with strong evidence of genetic predisposition. Community afflicted with this disorder will have a hard time blending into society and to communicate, but they excel in fields that require logical thinking like math and science. Sounds like Asperger’s Syndrome, but autism is not to be confused for that though both of them share strong similar traits. Most importantly, autistic people comprehend the world in a much different and specific way than us that makes them weirdo in the eyes of many – they pay more attention to details and processes rather than the bigger picture, rendering them to have more inputs from their sensory system. Thus they are more easily irritated (hypersensory) and may act in many different, strange ways to ease themselves.

So here’s the part that my old-self (and also many others) wasn’t aware of: autism can range from very mild, almost-undetectable ones to very severe types like what Grandin has. Remember that you used to laugh at kids who acted all odd and sometimes throwing tantrums, or the ones who you think were dorks and unable to solve the simplest question or carry out the most basic tasks? These people could very well have autism or other types of disorders like Down’s and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). They didn’t ask for these to begin with, and certainly they didn’t ask for your teasing, labelling and discrimination that arrive after. Above everything else, they don’t need your sympathy, but they will really appreciate your support.

As I continue to read further, it was horrifying to discover past related misconceptions which were based on pure assumptions driven by fear and unfamiliarity that could actually plunge the whole family into unnecessary hardship and humiliation. Ever wonder how the term ‘refrigerator mothers’ came into existence? It is used to describe mothers of autistic children whom members of public believe the emotional detachment that the mothers exhibited towards their offspring that offset the disorders in them. Makes you laugh? Think how was it like being a mother of an autistic child back in the 50’s and 60’s.

However, with the knowledge we possess today, fear towards these disorders should be something relatively of the past. Education for both communities is the key here – to integrate the involuntary outcasts and to have the society to accept them. We may have found the root of these disorders, but similarly to Grandin’s thoughts, a cure is not the answer since it will wipe out neurodiversity that makes mankind’s evolutionary feat our greatest survival arsenal in my belief. After all, half of the men and women who had and are going to transform this Earth into a better place for everyone are actually identified with somewhat kind of behavioural disorders with varying degrees, like the great Temple Grandin herself!

Nevertheless, solutions are everywhere. One of my favourite philosophers, Sir Ken Robinson who is a famous education reformist that has encountered numerous cases of ADHD (and other similar disorders) among school children said, there is no such disorder. They are proven on paper, but they are still subjected to plenty of debate. Reason he said that was after helping a child diagnosed with ADHD by her teachers to secure a better future. Recalling from his account, she may not be able to sit obediently or acquire long attention span in class, but her feet were able to lift gracefully in the presence of music much to the astonishment of her joyful mother and bewildered teachers.

So, all this just points towards one thing: that kids with such disorders are just normal after all, like each of our precious selves, they just need some direction to find where their passion really lies in and an avenue to express themselves. It’s actually not that complicated as we think.

p/s ‘Temple Grandin’ is now airing on HBO. Try to catch it!

Smile that disregards whether you're a scout, a Muslim, a Malaysian or a no-no extraordinary.

2009-09-18T14:52:00.001+08:00

I saw that she is a scout from the back of her shirt. But it wasn't easy registering the fact by the look of her face. Morose. Black. Void.

When she left the car, her brother - also a very good friend of mine - confirmed the truth. And it's not her thing to smile he added. But to be fair to her, she has dark skin complexion for a Chinese. My brains were fazed - a scout, who doesn't smile frequently? Awkward sure it is if you were to ask me.

What does smiling got to do with scouting (and guiding)? Good question my friend. 'We scouts uphold and appreciate smiles a lot.' And it turned out to rhyme like Stephen Hawking has just said that the world is flat by the sound of his smirks.

But the focus it not really about the sister that prompts the birth of this note. At the end, you will see that it is not really about scouting too.

It is just that scouting and smiling are both things that are knitted so closely and delicately, like the threads in a piece of cloth, it forms one of the building blocks for the movement that somewhat makes us scouts so benevolent and believeable in ourselves, our abilities and in the community. And in the vision of Lord Baden Powell, its founder and ours, scouting exists to help the soul of every man in every way and time that we can.

We believe in the virtues of helping regardless of the outcome and reward because we have firm faith in what humanity should be and will be. It does not matter whether it is a school uniformed body or an ex-scout leader like myself and some. Being a scout actually means bigger - way whole lot bigger than this. We define ourselves by actions and principles - not on skin colours, the badges, the ranks nor the uniform we don.

Gandhi is a scout by definition. Thus, every scout can (I won't say 'is') be Gandhi, or Buddha. Every man who fight for the rights and lives of others, every selfless souls out there is a scout. A Mother Theresa. A St. John Ambulance cadet. Or even a our beloved Yasmin Ahmad. Soon when maturity begets humanity, one will realise that all these labels and boundaries are meaningless and trivial.

So, how does help begin? By smiling. We never know to whom it is intended for, but the good-feeling curve is surely a powerful ray stronger than the sun - and it's contagious too. It's never specific, but if it can brighten the day of even only a dampened soul, it serves its job well and can definitely be greater with confidence.

With our principles, it's hard for a scout to forsake smiling. Though we can't be smiling all the time and have facial cramps thereafter, but at least we won't return home pulling a long face or being in the public instiling hostility in the environment. So let this be a call for every scout in heart to continue smiling when you thought the good old scouting days have long gone.

The other half of my smiling lesson comes from being a Malaysian, especially the fact that I cherish most is that my parents made the decision to have me educated in a national (so-called Malay) school. I have nothing to lose not knowing my mothertongue well for the smile it taught me to see the beauty of living in this country that is overruled with diversity. Maybe our politicians can learn a thing or two from there by kicking them back to their primary school.

That's why smiling is the first step - and it is sometimes just all that we need. It binds us all no matter who we are. Whether you are a scout, the Red Crescent, you are an Indian, a Malaysian; by smiling you will realise you will be all in what you believe and dream can be - you are everyone and everything.

"A Scout smiles and whistles under all circumstances." _Robert Baden-Powell

That Moment

2009-03-08T22:48:00.003+08:00

Mom pointed to a hill peaked with a national grid tower outside her window. It was quite barren except for trees and steel.

"Boy, is that where Genting (Resort) is?"

"Of course not," a smirk was forming at the end of my lips. Joked that she could come to my place every night when the resort just stands opposite of me, which I can always see it if it is not raining or foggy at the distant hills from my bedroom window.

She then turned to Dad, who was driving, to reaffirm that he told her it was there. Obviously, Dad denied it, telling her that she got it wrong. A minute later after countless cars had passed our old faithful van by, Dad pointed to a direction in the air.

Outside, there's Atlantis - situated on one of the underwater mountains, glowing gaily in yellow with a floating red dot amidst the dark deep ocean background where sunlight of thousand miles above could not penetrate through. And Mom turned into a little girl at the sight of it.

She thought it was beautiful, exclaiming with joy that that's the first time she saw it. And the van was filled with exuberant happiness that moment resonating from her girly voice that once has always been sarcastic with a lecturing tone.

It was then that I felt my day was complete.

Hope This Gives You Hell

2008-11-26T07:17:00.008+08:00

The All-American Rejects - Gives You Hell

When you see my face back on Bolehland hope it gives you hell XP

The Rape of The Chinese Dream

2008-10-10T02:58:00.005+08:00

Fireworks. Colours. People. Unity. Light. Pride. A celebration of humanity. And a sea of praises.

China celebrated her moment almost 2 months ago when the ex-communist nation hosted the 2008 Summer Olympic Games. While it was aimed at saving the republic from the Western notion that China is an ugly capitalistic nation with a despised communist past and hellish democracy for her people, the goverment under the lead of Hu Jintao are basked in glory from the opening night to even until now when the most expensive Games ever held wooed the spirit of every man, woman and child on this Earth.

And when most probably now every Chinese are standing on international ground with a much confident posture and the government going through every praise, the so-called Chinese illegal migrants are still in the process of claiming their Olympiad moment. And it is these Chinese people that the success of the 29th Olympic Games owing to.

Unfortunately, instead of receiving their equal share of praises and recognitions from the government and countrymen of the republic, these people are facing intimidation, abuse and discrimination from them. Due to the industrial boom and development that focus heavily in major cities like Beijing, many rural folks came in like bee swarms to these still-scaling concrete jungles to get a share of the pie that country is profiting.

With lots of opportunities there from job to education, and better infrastructures and lifestyle, the dreams of these countryside folks crashed when the government realised their capitalistic policy could not accomodate these parties in the urban cities. Deciding they are more of an eyesore among the urbanites with modern skyscrappers decorating the background, the Chinese government initiated a new policy that disallow them to enjoy social, health and other benefits unlike their city counterpart. To drive them away and to discourage more influx of non-cities dwellers, this policy bring rise to degoratory terms like 'illegal migrants' and 'second-class citizens' in the vocabulary bank of the city folks.

These rural migrants are trapped in big cities unwelcome to them, some with families. With corruption as ubiquitous as the Chinese themselves on their soil, accesses to health, social and government services are often hefty as bills intineraries include electrical appliances and 'extra service charge'. And to survive, they have no choice but to be employed as cheap labours no different than slaves since going home back to the meadow fields and hills to work might even prove to be the worst due the government's inability and lack of fund to develop the rural areas. And this might just explain the answer behind the rapid transformation of Beijing for the Games in just 2 years. When the transformation had finished just prior to the Games, the government was looking for crude ways to chuck these people away as fast as possible to save their image from the eye of the world, and after that pretends nothing has happened leaving these people fending for themselves. How ironic!

When we are complaining in Malaysia of interracial discriminations, it is disgusting to know that intraracial discrimination takes place and unlike the Malaysian government, the Chinese government made it public. Bravo! While I admire their courage and honesty, I have to say solving one social issue is not by excluding and exploiting certain parties of the nation when certainly the republic is making tonnes of money at the expense of these poor people while corruption is very rampant. The tax that these people paid like the rest is meant to steer the country away from national woes and paying the very government that abuse them to do their job which is to protect them and setting policies that ensure the wellbeing of the nation and the people in it. Directly, these discriminated ones should be given equal opportunity to enjoy the benefits like the rest are currently taking for granted.

I won't try to compare the similarities of Malaysia and China, fearing that I will end up like RPK, Tan Cheng Hoon and Teresa Kok. But I am sure we are here very much lucky than the Chinese given the fact we have more access to medias, NGOs, funds and especially the rising awareness among Malaysians of all ages and races to champion our cause in achieving equality that we all dream for our children.

However, this portrays the sinister nature of human beings that discrimination can happen anywhere with whoever you are with. Skin colour is just a more distinguishable feature among men, but when all our skins bears the same colour, humans will resort to intangible reasons like status, money or achievement just to separate themselves from the rest. After all, it is our pathetic behaviour that we seek parties that have in common with us, but at the same time, we are trying so hard to differentiate ourselves from the rest. But it is also the more reason that I believe if we are able to change, we Malaysians will be more united as we are the ones that try and know our fight clearly to overcome our differences to be under the genuine wings of a system called 'nation'.

But I can conclude seeing the development of these two countries in general - and also India - that what a close companion of mine said might hold truth and logic to an extent, that countries that forsake human rights develop faster, but broken in the opposing aspect of course i.e. social.

When human right groups blasted the Chinese republic for obvious and blatant human rights violations last month, Hu Jintao's party strongly denied it. So now, what more have you got to say for yourself China? And oh, Malaysia, stop giggling and pointing your finger in their direction - you're next.

Humanity: Point to Ponder

2008-10-03T23:52:00.005+08:00

This world has 6.725 billion people living in it. There is 61 million of us in the place where I am in now, and another 27 million in the place where I came from.

The two most dearest to me are 11,000 km away from me, while another one is just upstairs sleeping.

So what’s the point I am trying to say here? Am I saying that being far from home makes me miss my parents a lot? Not that I don’t, but if that’s my point, what has it got to do about my brother in the room upstairs?

When there are so many of us, and all of us are just not very much different from one another, then what makes you so different from others? What makes you significant in the eyes of others?

It’s not money, status or skin colour that sets the difference if you’re asking me – that’s a hoard of rubbish, superficial reasons. Compare your parents or friends to the unknown guy sitting next to you in train. Who makes you more comfortable, and why?

If you are guessing the answer to all those questions up there right, it’s because of the connection you have with them. Will you pay much attention to the lady at the opposite side of the street? The man who delivers the paper to your house before sunrise? How about the stranger who gets your fallen stuff for you from the floor when your hands are full? The answer is ‘No’ of course, you don’t even know them in the first place to begin with. Even if you do, it will eventually slip your mind over time.

In fact, ask yourself how many people have you passed through on the street today without looking at them? You don’t even know ain’t it, because you can’t even count all of them. If you can’t even count all of them, it is for sure you can’t even be knowing every single one of them. Let’s be realistic here.

And now, next question. What makes you have a connection with another? Is it by the pretext of blood for family, and by feelings for friends and lovers? If it is by blood, is that mean you have the obligation to treat the blood-bound party better? And if it is by feelings, is that mean you have the obligation to approach another party to establish a connection with them then?

Being a social animal, we cannot really much escape from these two factors that ensure our survival by being with people. To think it from a realist’s view, it sounds foolish to invest in something that is formed by the basis of ‘feelings’ and ‘blood’ where these two things itself can’t be touch nor possess a value – literally. But well, being human is like these, and solving this is like solving humanity’s greatest puzzle: our creation.

As hard as it may sound to understand ourselves and how we perceive the relation to the people around us, it is just as easy to cut these connections off. All it takes is only for one party to forsake either one of these elements that makes us human whether intentional or not, and both will end up like the 6.275 billion on the street, passing through each other paths but couldn’t be bothered by each other. If we would divide the number of people we know with Earth’s population, we will find that the ratio tells us that each of us are next to nothing as the value projected will be almost reaching zero.

My brother would say that it is God almighty that creates us like that. I would say it is all in the nature of Homo sapiens. But no matter what we believe, we as human beings can be unique and hypocritical at the same time; crudely put it - weird. And there is of course one thing which we can agree together: Family will always come first no matter what.

Or do you have a different answer from me?

Zaid Ibrahim's open letter to PM

2008-10-01T04:28:00.002+08:00

29 September 2008

YAB Dato’ Seri Abdullah Badawi
Prime Minister of Malaysia
5th Floor, East Wing
Perdana Putra Building
Putrajaya
Malaysia

Dear Mr Prime Minister

In our proclamation of independence, our first Prime Minister gave voice to the lofty aspirations and dreams of the people of Malaya: that Malaya was founded on the principles of liberty and justice, and the promise that collectively we would always strive to improve the welfare and happiness of its people.

Many years have passed since that momentous occasion and those aspirations and dreams remain true and are as relevant to us today as they were then. This was made possible by a strong grasp of fundamentals in the early period of this nation. The Federal Constitution and the laws made pursuant to it were well founded; they embodied the key elements of a democracy built on the Rule of Law. The Malaysian Judiciary once commanded great respect from Malaysians and was hailed as a beacon for other nations. Our earlier Prime Ministers, Tunku Abdul Rahman, Tun Razak and Tun Hussein Onn were truly leaders of integrity, patriots in their own right and most importantly, men of humility. They believed in and built this nation on the principles and values enunciated in our Constitution.

Even when they had to enact the Internal Security Act (ISA) 1960, they were very cautious and apologetic about it. Tunku stated clearly that the Act was passed to deal with the communist threat. “My cabinet colleagues and I gave a solemn promise to Parliament and the nation that the immense powers given to the Government under the ISA would never be used to stifle legitimate opposition and silent lawful dissent”, was what the Tunku said. Our third Prime Minister Tun Hussein Onn reinforced this position by saying that the ISA was not intended to repress lawful political opposition and democratic activity on the part of the citizenry.

The events of the last three weeks have compelled me to review the way in which the ISA has been used. This exercise has sadly led me to the conclusion that the Government has time and time again failed the people of this country in repeatedly reneging on that solemn promise made by Tunku Abdul Rahman. This has been made possible because the Government and the law have mistakenly allowed the Minister of Home Affairs to detain anyone for whatever reason he thinks fit. This subjective discretion has been abused to further certain political interests.

History is the great teacher and speaks volumes in this regard. Even a cursory examination of the manner in which the ISA has been used almost from its inception would reveal the extent to which its intended purpose has been subjugated to the politics of the day.

Regrettably, Tunku Abdul Rahman himself reneged on his promise. In 1965, his administration detained Burhanuddin Helmi, the truly towering Malay intellectual, a nationalist who happened to be a PAS leader. He was kept in detention until his death in 1969. Helmi was a political opponent and could by no stretch of the imagination be considered to have been involved in the armed rebellion or communism that the ISA was designed to deal with. This detention was an aberration, a regrettable moment where politics had been permitted to trump the rule of law. It unfortunately appears to have set a precedent and many detentions of persons viewed as having been threatening to the incumbent administration followed through the years. Even our literary giant, ‘sasterawan negara’ the late Tan Sri A Samad Ismail was subjected to the ISA in 1976. How could he have been a threat to national security?

I need not remind you of the terrible impact of the 1987 Operasi Lalang. Its spectre haunts the Government as much as it does the peace loving people of this nation, casting a gloom over all of us. There were and still are many unanswered questions about those dark hours when more than a hundred persons were detained for purportedly being threats to national security. Why they were detained has never been made clear to Malaysians. Similarly, no explanation has been forthcoming as to why they were never charged in court. Those detainees included amongst their numbers senior opposition Members of Parliament who are still active in Parliament today. The only thing that is certain about that period was that UMNO was facing a leadership crisis. Isn’t it coincidental that the recent spate of ISA arrests has occurred when UMNO is again having a leadership crisis?

In 2001, Keadilan ‘reformasi’ activists were detained in an exercise that the Federal Court declared was in bad faith and unlawful. The continued detention of those that were not released earlier in the Kamunting detention facility was made possible only by the fact that the ISA had been questionably amended in 1988 to preclude judicial review of the Minister’s order to detain. Malaysians were told that these detainees had been attempting to overthrow the Government via militant means and violent demonstrations. Seven years have gone and yet no evidence in support of this assertion has been presented. Compounding the confusion even further, one of these so-called militants, Ezam Mohamad Noor, recently rejoined UMNO to great fanfare, as a prized catch it would seem.

At around the same time, members of PAS were also detained for purportedly being militant and allegedly having links to international terrorist networks. Those detained included Nik Adli, the son of Tuan Guru Nik Abdul Aziz Nik Mat the Menteri Besar of Kelantan. Malaysians were made a promise by the Government that evidence of the alleged terrorist activities and links of these detainees would be disclosed. To date no such evidence has been produced.

The same formula was used in late 2007 when the HINDRAF 5 were detained. Malaysians were told once again that these individuals were involved in efforts to overthrow the Government and had links with the militant Liberation Tiger of Tamil Eelam of Sri Lanka. To date no concrete evidence have been presented to support this assertion. It would seem therefore that the five were detained for their involvement in efforts that led to a mobilisation of Malaysian Indians to express, through peaceful means, their frustration against the way in which their community had been allowed to be marginalised. This cause has since been recognised as a legitimate one. The HINDRAF demonstration is nothing extraordinary as such assemblies are universally recognised as being a legitimate means of expression.

In the same vein, the grounds advanced in support of the most recent detentions of Tan Hoon Cheng, Teresa Kok and Raja Petra Kamarudin leave much to be desired. The explanation that Tan Hoon Cheng was detained for her own safety was farcical. The suggestion that Teresa Kok had been inciting religious sentiments was unfounded as was evinced by her subsequent release.

As for Raja Petra Kamarudin, the prominent critic of the Government, a perusal of his writings would show that he might have been insulting of the Government and certain individuals within it. However, being critical and insulting could not in any way amount to a threat to national security. If his writings are viewed as being insulting of Islam, Muslims or the Holy Prophet (pbuh), he should instead be charged under the Penal Code and not under the ISA. In any event, he had already been charged for sedition and criminal defamation in respect of some of his statements. He had claimed trial, indicating as such his readiness and ability to defend himself. Justice would best be served by allowing him his day in court more so where, in the minds of the public, the Government is in a position of conflict for having been the target of his strident criticism.

The instances cited above strongly suggest that the Government is undemocratic. It is this perspective that has over the last 25 plus years led to the Government seemingly arbitrarily detaining political opponents, civil society and consumer advocates, writers, businessmen, students, journalists whose crime, if it could be called that, was to have been critical of the Government. How it is these individuals can be perceived as being threats to national security is beyond my comprehension. The self-evident reality is that legitimate dissent was and is quashed through the heavy-handed use of the ISA.

There are those who support and advocate this carte-blanche reading of the ISA. They will seek to persuade you that the interests of the country demand that such power be retained, that Malaysians owe their peace and stability to laws such as the ISA. This overlooks the simple truth that Malaysians of all races cherish peace. We lived together harmoniously for the last 400 years, not because of these laws but in spite of them.

I believe the people of this country are mature and intelligent enough to distinguish actions that constitute a ‘real’ threat to the country from those that threaten political interests. Malaysians have come know that the ISA is used against political opponents and, it would seem, when the leadership is under challenge either from within the ruling party or from external elements.

Malaysians today want to see a Government that is committed to the court process to determine guilt or innocence even for alleged acts of incitement of racial or religious sentiment. They are less willing to believe, as they once did, that a single individual, namely the Minister of Home Affairs, knows best about matters of national security. They value freedom and the protection of civil liberties and this is true of people of other nations too.

Mr Prime Minister, the results of the last General Election are clear indication that the people of Malaysia are demanding a reinstatement of the Rule of Law. I was appointed as your, albeit short-lived, Minister in charge of legal affairs and judicial reform. In that capacity, I came to understand more keenly how many of us want reform, not for the sake of it, but for the extent to which our institutions have been undermined by events and the impact this has had on society.

With your blessing, I attempted to push for reform. High on my list of priorities was a reinstatement of the inherent right of judicial review that could be enabled through a reversion of the key constitutional provision to its form prior to the controversial amendment in 1988. I need not remind you that that constitutional amendment was prompted by the same series of events that led not only to Operasi Lalang but the sacking of the then Lord President and two supreme court justices. Chief amongst my concerns was the way in which the jurisdiction and the power of the Courts to grant remedy against unconstitutional and arbitrary action of the Executive had been removed by Parliament and the extent to which this had permitted an erosion of the civil liberties of Malaysians. It was this constitutional amendment that paved the way for the ouster provision in the ISA that virtually immunises the Minister from judicial review, a provision which exemplifies the injustice the constitutional amendment of 1988 has lent itself.

I also sought to introduce means by which steps could be taken to assist the Judiciary to regain the reputation for independence and competence it once had. Unfortunately, this was viewed as undesirable by some since an independent Judiciary would mean that the Executive would be less ‘influential’.

I attempted to do these things and more because of the realisation that Malaysia’s democratic traditions and the Rule of Law are under siege. Anyway, there is nothing wrong with giving everyone an independent Judiciary and the opportunity to a fair trial. This is consistent with the universal norms of human rights as it is with the tenets of Islam, the religion of the Federation. Unchecked power to detain at the whim of one man is oppressiveness at its highest. Even in Israel, a nation that is perpetually at war, the power to detain is not vested in one man and detention orders require endorsement from a judge.

If there are national security considerations, then these can be approached without jettisoning the safeguards intended to protect individual citizens from being penalised wrongfully. In other jurisdictions involved in armed conflicts, trials are held in camera to allow for judicial scrutiny of evidence considered too sensitive for public disclosure so as to satisfy the ends of justice. If this can be done in these jurisdictions, why not here where the last armed struggle we saw, the very one that precipitated the need for the ISA, came to an end in the 1980s? Any doubts as to the continued relevance of the ISA in its present form should have been put to rest by the recommendation by the National Human Rights Commission (SUHAKAM) that the ISA be repealed and an anti-terror legislation suited to the times enacted in its place. Containing as it did a sunset clause in its original times, the ISA was never intended to be a permanent feature on the Malaysian legal landscape.

Through its continued use in the manner described above and in the face of public sentiment, it is only natural that the ISA has become in the mind of the people an instrument of oppression and the Government is one that lends itself to oppressiveness. Its continued use does not bode well for a society that is struggling to find its place in the global arena. It does not bode well for the democracy that is so vital for us to develop sustainably.

Mr Prime Minister, I remember very clearly what you once said; that if one has the opportunity to do what is good and right for the country, then he must take on the task. I respect you deeply for that and if I were confident that I would have been able to do some good for Malaysia, I would have remained on your team. Sir, you are still the Prime Minister and you still have the opportunity to leave your footprint in Malaysian history. I urge you to do so by repealing the ISA once and for all.

Let us attempt to fulfil that solemn promise made by our beloved first Prime Minister to the people of this country.

Yours sincerely

ZAID IBRAHIM
Kuala Lumpur

Source:

http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2008/9/30/nation/20080930173730&sec=nation

Post-Malaysia Day hangover

2008-09-18T02:11:00.004+08:00

I came across a very sincere plea of a Malaysian to his fellow countrymen regarding to keeping our faith unified across races in times of political turmoil like this and making sure this historical day of Malaysia Day goes unforgotten in heart of every man who prides himself with this country. It was posted in Paul's blog and in HarkaoSiumai.

A very well said speech, I would rather call it, with a mix of V's word, I can certainly say that the man behind this cry is a big fan of V for Vendetta like me too. With the recent arrest of 3 figures behinds the oppresive ISA - Raja Petra Kamaruddin, Tan Hoon Cheng (she has been released) and Teresa Kok and other political events that have taken place over the past few months since the wave of 8 March tsunami crashed onto cities and towns nationwide; I find many similarities of the theme and scenes from the movie to the scenarios we are facing here in our homeland.

As much as I wanted to write about Malaysia Day, I am in the midst of preparing for my last paper now, and with so many entries about it by good, sincere writers like Vincent (the one who's behind the plea) - mine would not be of any significance and time worth reading. Remembering that I blogged something similar to it and also with elements from V for Vendetta prior to the political tsunami, I dug back my old entry and decided to post it here again. Enjoy reading!

Cheers, and Happy Belated Malaysia Day from me!

IMAGINING & HOPING

"Remember, remember, remember the 13th of May - interracial clashes, fire and blood. I see of no reasons why this bloody incident should ever be forgotten"

Striking blue and white banners parade trees, lampposts and streets. Entangled to each other, flags of a white moon surrounded by a sea of green looked as if they were being swallowed wholly by the vast blue ocean of those banners. Not far away, light blue flags with vivid red stripes at the edges confining two crescents curved outward were fluttering frantically in the air as the swift wind persevered to shake them off from the fence.

I couldn't help but to notice how similar each places looked alike as they were inundated with the same raves of blue, green, red and white. Repeating faces that could only smile motionlessly appeared everywhere to subdue drivers into believing that each of their smile was genuine and sincere. And the lifted hands were made real like they were meant to outreach to the people who were scrutinising at the posters mindlessly to keep themselves occupied while waiting for their buses to arrive.

I couldn't help but to drown myself in my own imagination while travelling back home that somehow the hectic streets of the capital were resonating with Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture whilst moment exactly when the clock struck midnight on the 12th May, the Sultan Abdul Samad building that stood majestically in front of Dataran Merdeka which housed the Malaysian High Court were erupting in sudden flashes of bright, colourful light and basked with massive heat together with huge chunks of bricks thrown into every single direction.

I couldn't help but to imagine that my idiot box would go blank for a few seconds at the afternoon only to find a man in a P.Ramlee mask engraved with a wide grin taking responsibility behind the artistic demolition of the old court complex earlier and uttering about the possibilities of democractic freedom and practice of liberal speech, expression and action in this country as promised by our forefathers 50 years ago, while conjuring up the wounds of the May 13 bloodshed to serve as a palpable reminder for this nation the very next day.

I couldn't help but to imagine that every newspaper in this country reported nothing but only the faked and fabricated illusive triumphs of this country, while TVs and radios endlessly spewing chants of Malaysia Boleh every minute to draped over the incompetency and lies that this country had to put up away from the sight of her people and the world.

I couldn't help but to imagine that the sense of renewed hope in the hearts of the people when the familiar mask of P.Ramlee erased the doubts in them towards reclaiming what's right of them from the country and repainted their inner insight that once blackened their beliefs into hatred for each other since the young and the old were not allowed to convey matters that were buried in their mind for so long publicly, which but could only manifest into something far much more sinister and catastrophic if saved too long inside instead.

I couldn't help but to imagine that critical-minded citizens together with resilient bloggers who truly cared for this country, were slowly vanishing from the forefront of the battle where vans of mysterious figures clad in ISA jackets bagged each and every one of their heads with black hoods and bludgeoned them into disappearance and silenced death without a trickle of blood left for anyone to retrace.

I couldn't help but to imagine that a year later on the May 13th, the nation marched confidently to the Parliament with great pride for unity and understanding imbued in their hearts as one which was portrayed vividly on their P.Ramlee masks, to witness the raze of the historical building in a spectacular explosive fireworks accompanied by the spirit-elevating Overture as a symbol of a new country that rose taller than her dark past which marked as a new resolution and hope for her people.

I can't help but to hope for the best for this country, for her people, for my dear family members and friends that the best would turn out from this coming General Election; that everything that was once promised to her people and by the government, would be fulfilled without hesitation and with utmost obligation that fights to ensure the rights of every citizen; rather than just becoming another nonsensical string of the crow's ugly harks that deceived the trust of the nation over and over again.

I can't help but to hope that this country would not need a masked vigilante and unnecessary fireworks-bombings like my imagination had invoked to save herself from continuing her voyage on this damned path where many crooked politicians lurked around for opportunities that would eventually lead her to her downfall.

I can't help - but only to continue imagining and hoping persistently in my heart.

p/s I am just passing the words. If you have read what Vincent has to say, if you think what he said holds truth and that this country needs just more than your voice and critics, to make it through the hardship she is facing now, and to show that Malaysia Day means much more to you than rather as another Sept 16 - get the Jalur Gemilang at the back of your left hand (it's right hand for the lefties, unless you have some sort of extraordinary skill where you can use your right hand to draw a flag at the back of it), spark some creativity and post the picture up on Facebook, Friendster etc to show your spirit.

Next post would be my greetings from the chilly London - if my last few days here for this year could not accomodate blogging. Till then, peace out people, take care!

Musing of A Young Malaysian

2008-08-26T18:12:00.016+08:00

Does singing the national anthem makes you a patriot?

How about reciting the Rukunegara every morning when you wake up?

Or being born here that inevitably registers you a nationality here with a granted MyKad when you are 12 makes you one either?

Or rather is it what you do and feel inside that makes you a Malaysian?

Before I could realise that this coming Sunday our nation is celebrating her 51st independence anniversary, I am reminded multiple times by the surrounding and the people around me of how fortunate I am to be part of this country. You might think this is probably like every very-Malaysian cliche you read in newspapers that you will usually find in the month of August telling you how the food, colours and cultures in Malaysia blend in together to inform you how lucky you are to be Malaysian. But if time is not of hassle to you, please do join me and I tell you from my view of what has a Malaysian become of me. I won't promise you a very hoo-hah Pulitzer-winning story, but however a very sincere and subtle - yet hidden at times - perspective from a young lad who has spent all his life on this soil.

* * *

From the day I stepped away from Ipoh to the day I stepped away from high school, I never remembered loving this country. Neither do I hate it - oh well, maybe sometimes. But funny, I took pride of being a product of national school. Blabbering in Malay, I am happy and not shy to exercise it especially in the mamak slang - cun siott. I also take pride of being very fluent in it (except for when in debate and professional use, and under stress) compared to most of my uni mates, but I do remember how much I hated learning it. Most importantly, I take pride in it not because of the country's education philosophy and policy duhh - but of the people that I hanged out with for the rest of my childhood that shaped me today. With the hills, jungle and being an all-boys premier school, it just makes my days with them much more worthwhile. I even had - have, until today - two pet-sisters who are Muslimahs. I was colourblind then.

Yes - I am still colourblind, but I do see the contrast now with the issues they bring as I continue to count my years. With the newly found ability, I saw how the colours that makes no sense to my colourblind eyes affect our society, education system, our young ones, our economy, our land and our rights with racist remarks and hatred. With this influx of information, I read more and reformed myself, taking a stance to understand this national plague better in order to remedy it. But I was met with disappointments, with each party being immensely revolved around their own interests, I sidelined myself from being poisoned by their thoughts. However, being alone, I drunk myself with depression of my weak comprehension on human and called for the white flag too quickly. I turned into one of them for a moment in doing so.

Soon, I plunged back into my former realisations again, where I involved myself in many things. Say...taking trips to art galleries, participating in community services, catching debates and discussions with friends, noticing every tiny thing and smile on faces, reading the papers, taking interests in the nation's politics - everything, errr....except for my study. My parents are going to kill me, I know, hahahaha - but it is fun knowing how this nation is formed at those seconds I discover something new. Those things can exist before I do, way even before this nation was born. And like a jigsaw puzzle, these missing pieces tell me exactly what I need to know of what went through the minds of people then before and after Malaysia appeared on the world map. They share with me more stories that complicate my mind, but warm my heart more like a plate of nasi lemak topped with rendang chicken and beef serunding.

With a new generation that is very aggresive in speaking their mind, the media and the local arts scene has been flooded with works lately that many did not know are portraying elements of unity. From music, advertisements and poetry to the silver screen, these arts are a very honest and sometimes down-to-earth reflection of what's being like to be in Malaysia. Words that are sown silenced are now loud and clear, breaking the barrier of differences that each Malaysian kept inside thinking they are the odd ones themselves not knowing others are just like them - same.

One very vivid, that is still fresh within me, Malaysian portrayal is Yasmin Ahmad's Sepet. Highly recommended, a film that truly touches the heart of many people like me - I don't know how to explain it here, and you have to watch it for yourself. Remember those Petronas advertisements about Merdeka? Especially the one by Yasmin Ahmad too: Percintaan Tan Hong Ming (Tan Hong Ming's Love; the video below). That young lil' boy reminds me of myself so much!!! Yeah, please do tap into the video posted below, another great work of Malaysian artistes that have the same vision as me of walking towards an undivided Malaysia.

Earlier on, I set foot to Penang again after so many years. Rather than going to Komtar where I stood with trembling legs when I was kid then in one of the highest floors, I managed to place myself in various parts of the island where I witnessed everything from the hills and seas to the people and culture that mixes with contemporary lifestyle and surviving traditions - plus with a little dose of their own politics and isolated history unlike the mainland's. Ok, I confess openly, I fell in love with the island after with a renewed perspective of this nation. This small island, which looks too small to offer big surprises, is actually what Malaysia should modelled after. Oh puh-leaze Penangites, I know I am talking about your homestate, but please don't kembang. In the case you people do, I hope you guys meletup menjadi karipap XD.

I couldn't explain why as I have not completely found what's the Midas touch behind this piece of land separated by seawater, and even if I want to, it would be very lengthy. Maybe next time, until I've learnt of this island much more.

And in UIAM (International Islamic University Malaysia), where I attended on behalf of the campus for a convention, my Muslim and Muslimah friends taught me so much. They opened my eyes wider (not that from colourblind eyes to eyes that can shoot optical blast like X-Men's Cyclops) and they can be really good companions that I can learn from and be honest with. A sight of Malaysia that most Malaysians missed despite being located in a Muslim-dominant varsity,it is the perfect model to debunk stereotypical myths that all Muslims are terrorists and stuff after the incident of 9/11 which is still lively in my mind. We never hide our racial weakness, nor we are not seeking any comparisons of superiority that traces back to our roots and history as it does not matter now as we are one standing on the same ground with the same dilemmas. We always see the other parties and races as the problem when something unwanted arises, and are too quick point our fingers at them, but most of the times, we do not see ourselves as the problem itself too - nor being part of a solution to it.

During my first month in overseas for a working placement end of this year, I foresee that I will miss this place a lot. Ironically, I used to despise this country and dreaming of staying overseas. Now I know why my friends who are back from overseas and those bound to leave for overseas for study, and my aunt in UK when retired, will come back to this place where they belong. Some say it is the governance that screws this country up leaving certain parties marginalised, while others claimed the foolishness of our forefathers signing the social contract. Certain who are not wrong as well say it is all about being human beings.

It will be us the young ones who will lead this country at the end of the day. We are the ones who will pioneer a change as we see fit as how things will change. Who knows that this Indian kid that I know, struggling to support her family by selling nasi lemak while bringing her little brother along to babysit, whose tongue is good at bargaining but never fails to be polite with a 'terima kasih' zipping the deal, will be the prime minister one day. Our politicians, their words, our stubborn elders together with the nation's past can only be like shadows trailing behind us and our future ones. Only our hands will be able to preserve what we love best of this country.

A united Malaysia, my faith is renewed knowing that are more people who are indifferent than I am that I have yet to meet. A new home for me, and a Malaysian I am and tell you of it.

Malaysian Artistes for Unity - Here In My Home

Arloo....long time no see...

2008-07-28T18:25:00.009+08:00

Lemme see....1 month?

Or was it 2?

Yeah, been missing from the blogosphere, playing dead somewhere in KL now X(

Been kinda busy actually, with brains saturated with thoughts and issues but no time to share it out here

Err, excuse moir...did I just said no time?

Hehehehe...lets just say I suck in time management for the moment while trying to sort things out in mind

I am penniless
I am hungry (cause I am broke)
I am bored (my uni is boring)
And I am tired (cause my uni is boring)

Am I seeking for your sympathy...NAH!

Just to tell you that I am very much alive in this dull city where everything is going at the pace of a false time continuum driven by money and extravagant desire of the mannequins

Which is kinda pathetic, yeah...kinda agree too....and I haven't got the time to update the lists there on the right ---------->

And I myself been very much slacking already, I lost my pace and I am in a heck of a mess - mentally, grades-ly, room-ly, writing-ly, report-ly, everything-ly lahhh

No more a schemer, but still a perfectionist sometimes...and somehow idolising the Joker from Christopher Nolan's The Dark Knight (Go watch that damn movie, it is damn freaking nice, and it damn cun and damn action-packed and damn the popcorns stuck to my teeth and damn the two gay middle-eastern boys speaking some kind damn language loudly in the cinema as if there was a damn invisible sound-proof walls in between us at a damn odd hours where I don't know what the their damn parents had in their damn mind that they are supposed to be sleeping on their damn bed that I just damn wished I could freaking screwed their damn heads but was unable too cause they were just damn not my childrens - DAMN! phew that's really anguish...never wonder what watchin Batman for 2 hours in the cinema could do to me...damn the Joker was caught and Heath Ledger was dead, not a damn sequel of the Joker vs Batman anymore...haihz, damn)

p/s The only thing that I really look forward is every Saturday evening, where me and close friends of mine will be joining a food-for-the-homeless programme to provide comfort to those living on the streets who are basically poor and hungry. Do reach me should you be interested, really hope to see you guys there lending a hand with us for the communal good of everyone.

Freaks to add to my lists, when I got the time:

Chia CC
Pearly
My imaginary friend
~~Kenny~~ Kevin
...uhm...forgot liow
Oh yeah...Richard
Joker (does anyone know his URL???)
KSK's new link
Tetle

Going to invade and mess up HarkaoSiumai deee... (go find the URL there yourself ----> , lazy to put its hyperlink here, the Dimsum Blog lahhh ) - after I finish my report lah

Why so serious....?

The Revival

2008-06-20T22:53:00.007+08:00

I am getting a grip of myself lately, though I am unsure how things will be heading their way. What happened before that causes this warm, assuring sensation - I am unsure - but my heart and mind say in unison that I will figure it out along the way. And they are telling me that I have nothing to lose throughout the journey - like this song below!

Weezer - Pork and Beans

They say I need some rogaine to put in my hair
Work it out at the gym to fit my underwear
Oakley makes the shades to transform a tool
You'd hate for the kids to think that you've lost your cool

I'mma do the things that I wanna do
I ain't got a thing to prove to you
I'll eat my candy with the pork and beans
Excuse my manners if I make a scene
I ain't gonna wear the clothes that you like
I'm fine and dandy with the me inside
One look in the mirror and I'm tickled pink
I don't give a hoot about what you think

Everyone likes to dance to a happy song
With a catchy chorus and beat so they can sing along
Timbaland knows the way to reach the top of the charts
Maybe if I work with him I can perfect the art

I'mma do the things that I wanna do
I ain't got a thing to prove to you
I'll eat my candy with the pork and beans
Excuse my manners if I make a scene
I ain't gonna wear the clothes that you like
I'm fine and dandy with the me inside
One look in the mirror and I'm tickled pink
I don't give a hoot about what you think

No, I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care
I don't care

I'mma do the things that I wanna do
I ain't got a thing to prove to you
I'll eat my candy with the pork and beans
Excuse my manners if I make a scene
I ain't gonna wear the clothes that you like
I'm fine and dandy with the me inside
One look in the mirror and I'm tickled pink
I don't give a hoot about what you think

To Paul: Have some pork and beans, and things will turn out just fine!

When crono's strucked by emo-ism...

2008-06-09T10:57:00.009+08:00

This is usually the best time to become emo – seriously. In the midst of

confusion
university lectures and long hours (two evenings until 7.30pm each week - !~@#$%^&*+?=<)
fatigue
disorientation
nightly practice (stretches all the way to midnight sometimes)
boredom

I am

bruised (right knee and thigh, and other areas)
exhausted
battered (with a still bleeding right toe)
sprained (right shoulder)
worried
unable to sleep well
academically-incompetent
financially stricken
numbed (of emotions, movement, of my life)
emo (certainly, like DUHHH! right now - hullooooo)

And I am constantly bugged by

reports (when it contributes no marks at all, except for the final few)
Metabolism I notes-making (thanks to an arrogant bitch who refuses to give us notes)
~~Microbiology notes-making~~ (solved: my quick-thinking, sly brain saved many people from the unnecessary trouble)
revision and subsequently tests and quizzes (ARGHHHHHHH *pulling hair)
assignments (when I have not started one bit and while I have to supervise my members)
6.15 performance
family negligence
lack of rest and sleep (when I am unable to sleep)
psychotic-agitation
wallet-discussion
overseas industrial training procedures (airfare, visa, expenses – that’s why I am broke lahhh)
likely to forgo HAD Cherating trip (broke)
very likely to be excluded from year-end HAD concert (overseas industrial training)
a very broken social life
potential to just drop-dead-sick (don’t ask how sick it can be; just a slight hint: when I am sick, it really scares the hell out of everyone)
being emo right now (soooooooooo unlike me)

Ignore the rest above, the real entry starts here:

The list above just proves that once again, I screw up myself completely. Seeking to improve myself and to gauge how far I am able to push myself; it began with a wrong mindset, an over-confident and stubborn ego, and a risky approach just to break away from uni norm.

It is worsened by bad time management, impulsive ego that does not know one's capacity, and a malfunctioned brain from overloading. Over the days, when I start to give less thought for myself and people around me, when words and stories from afar stop making sense to me, when I am unable to convey out the tunes that my mind and heart are dancing together – that’s where emo will settle in the deepest and darkest part of myself. It manifested from worries and doubts, while feeds on a weak mind. It spurs man to become wicked, and causes them stagnant amidst the rapid flowing time and space continuum around them.

I could feel myself slowly fragmenting into irretrievable pieces. Isolating myself from people with a shrouded mind of qualms due to frail connections of thoughts, but yet feeling restless without them, I am stuck somewhere between the lines of my life. And somehow, from one perspective it might sound nerdy, my hyperactive brains are malnourished from intellectual development. And weird enough, I feel sad because my brains feel the same way. The only things that are in order right now are my room and my first report.

I have always believed that I am someone. Every great man and woman starts from being that someone. Not necessarily to be on the headlines or in the list of Time’s or Forbes' Top 100 Most Influential People, but at least someone who will bring changes to my own family, people around me - for good. But at times, I am too greedy and selfish that I am not willing to put my life as an expense. And my ego, who wants to be different, who urges to be superior, refuses to be like them – 'blondes' usually it calls them (like this Sor Poh I know...). Trying to be a profound mixture of Buddha, Einstein, Bono, Obama, Paul-Satre and a family man – man, that’s gotta be so hard.

If I am trying to be the holy-smartass divine mentioned above, being emo will just keep me stumbling. Penning down these impulsive ramblings does not help one bit, even to soothe my nervousness a little bit. But I guess I have to move on, and if I really screw up – let’s just see what causality has installed then for my wisdom. And I am very sure until today, I am never a believer of luck, fate, destiny or whatever you name that crap.

But I still love what I do for the moment - dancing, reading, hanging out with friends, chatting over dinner with family, hitting the hills, rivers or pools, uni life...errr...maybe hahahahaha. The only things I am remorsed over now are that I spend less time with my parents, seeing less of my buddies, friends and pet-bro's and a constant bleeding toe that's going to impede my practice and hopefully not my performance nights. Going to wear flip flops into laboratory....screw it.

p/s KL SGM is celebrating its 20th anniversary with cultural and artistic extravaganzas this coming weekend nights (13th to 15th June 2007). Entrance to the approximately 1 hour plus performance is free of charge and on the basis of tickets. Call me for those whoever who are interested to attend so that I can seek tickets for you all. Cheers.

Thank You Di Mi - Again!

2008-05-28T21:30:00.003+08:00

Food for my soul

For original related story, click here.

Inconceivably Insane

2008-05-26T19:34:00.003+08:00

Insanity has started to make a move

it is

Infiltrating my mind
Instigating a mental revolt
Injecting doubts into my thoughts
Interjecting my speech
Insulting my rationality
Indulging in my fears

it is also

Impulsive
Incarcerating my logic
Incredulously hyperactive
Inflaming people around me
Inundating my creativity
Infatuated with me

it is ultimately

Increasingly intricate than my future in-laws
Inexplicably irritating

How about the Fritzl children?

2008-05-12T19:26:00.009+08:00

For those of us at the Equator grumbling about the daily menacing heat and glaring sun, life for 18 year old Elisabeth Fritzl took an inhumane route when her father, Josef, had decided to incarcerate her in a dark cellar meant for nuclear shelter under their home back in 1984. Claimed to shield her from the hedonistic outside world where booze and sex mattered to most teenagers then, the primary paternal instinct went animal when the father had begun to rape her almost everyday without hesitation whether night or day. The incestuous act resulted in the birth of 7 children over the torturous 24 years; where four are adopted (one had passed away and burnt in the heater) and raised by the father and his wife, while the other three continue to live in the dark – until recently where Austrian authorities stepped into their home to discover one of the worst domestic crimes of postwar era.

For once, the whole world directed its attention towards the plight this victimised Austrian mother and her three children that lived most of their life in a 60 sqm windowless cellar locked by eight metallic doors with sophisticated remote lock mechanism. This modern day soundproof dungeon was only equipped with a TV, recorder and radio. The case might seemed solved when Josef had confessed his actions after Elisabeth had divulged the crimes of her father under police interrogation. However, we tend to overlook one fact – how are the three siblings going to adjust themselves under the light?

The blue print of the cellar where Elisabeth and her three children lived for 24 years; the space were originally 35 sqm where it was expanded by Josef to 60 sqm (left room) to welcome the arrival of the children. Notice the eight-door security at the right.

It all began when Kirstin, 19, had collapsed that prompted her mother to plead to Josef of the immediate medical attention her daughter needed. Hospital staffs confirmed that the eldest daughter has contracted liver failure, but were wary of the information provided by Josef who engineered the fake disappearance of his daughter who had left the house to embrace a religion cult only to abandon the adopted babies that she bore at the footstep of their house. In need of reliable and deeper information to save the young woman’s life, the hospital launched a nationwide call for Elisabeth to present herself to fill in the gaps and the police reopened her file of missing person. To avoid suspicion, Fritzl had no choice but to agree with her daughter to appear at the hospital, which led to the unravelling of the Fritzl incest case.

Only shy of one year from her eldest sister, Stefan, and 5 year old Felix experienced sunlight and crowd for the first time when they were brought to hospital for examination. Deprived of sunlight throughout their childhood, all three siblings are ghostly pale and highly susceptible to bone diseases due to lack of Vitamin D. Kirstin is reported to be missing of most of her teeth despite reaching adolescent. According to Time, the confined space damaged the siblings’ spatial orientation, while making their eyes much more sensitive to the light. Their muscles are greatly weakened as well. While faced by a myriad of health problems, the greatest obstacle of all proved to be social integration of independent sustainability. Compared to his older siblings who are greatly mentally marred, Felix is much more aggravated by the reality perception and contact of the outside world, and predicted to be much quickly adaptive to the society.

Experts from University of Liverpool foresee that both Kirstin and Stefan might have problems later in life to initiate a romantic relationship that they might see on TV due to the fact the confined room holds no wall that would spare the exposure of promiscuity and perversion at a very young age. Nobody can be certain of the extent of their sexual development. It is unknown either whether did he abuse any of the children during their captivity until recently.

The 21st century biblical Lot

In the previous court hearing, the Captain Hook look-alike Josef Fritzl testified that he is no animal. Justifying his statement, he declared that he only has sex with adult women but never children, reasserting the personal fact that he wished to lock her up for good but the sex was all because of ‘fond of having children with her’. Permeated with Neo-Nazism idealism during the invasion of the socialist thinking envisioned by Hitler in Austria when he was young, Josef stands today as one of the most iconic symbols that debate the possible extremism in human behavioural psychology of one’s upbringing that questions an individual’s rights and capability in drawing the line of right from wrong. He shows us the primitivity of mankind being a young species despite the tremendous rate of globalisation behind the civilised human brain.

Being isolated and brought up like in a separated ecosystem, treating the three Fritzl siblings summons all the knowledge of the latest expansion of medical science. That is why the emergence of these brothers and sister arouses the interest of many scientists and psychologists who wish to study them. It may sound opportunistic at the expense of a traumatic event that will spur an array of emotional discomforts, but doctors and experts have agreed to put the siblings’ rehabilitation the utmost priority. At least for now, the situation of family is improving due to better diet, quality of air and supportive treatments. But few years down the road, we might never know how deep the wound is inflicted on these children because of one man. We can only see for ourselves then the outcome and the future of the Fritzl siblings.

Just a thought

2008-05-04T11:05:00.010+08:00

Home
Food on the kitchen table
Friends to hang out with
Parents
Stacks of old, worn out but comfortable clothes
Computer, idiot box, mobile phone
Exam's done
Holiday
Loved

Not every child, man and woman has the opportunity to tick every box above like me and you. Some might not even know what does the last checkbox meant, while most died fighting for it.

Sunday mornings are incomplete without the newspaper - but it isn't like how it used to be anymore. In this world that is overrun with madness, superficiality and deceits; the familiar stack of papers no more conventionally printed in mostly black and white has, in fact, lost its familiarity to the eyes and thumbs. It is so overflowed with anger, unanswered woes and silent cries; pictures of illusive handshakes between politicians, plead of a helpless mother to feed her children, wail of a small boy in a rubble-filled house among the distant sound of bombs and artilleries.

What if,

We spare a thought for those who are scavenging for food on the street each time we are stuffing ourselves all round the clock
We spare a thought for the homeless while under the security of our sheltered home from the piercing heat and blistering cold
We spare a thought for a girl who yearns to be an astronaut in Namibia although she is HIV+ while we are not even dreaming to become anything
We spare a thought for an orphan who never experience the love from his parents while we are taking ours for granted
We spare a thought for Aqtar who is supposed to be holding books and pencils instead of a rifle when we are hating exams
We spare a thought for the Indians and Cambodians living in slum deprived of necessities while we are spending unreasonably in Starhill and Pavilion
We spare a thought for our children when we are disposing our rubbish
We spare a thought for others while we are lamenting and blaming the miseries of our lives

What if we just take a few brief seconds to spare a thought...

I am sure the newspaper can bring smile to every readers with pictures that look brighter and words of deeper meanings and higher inspirations like before. A minuscule thought might look unimportant and negligible only if you stop believing in it. Every success begins with a thought that reinvents itself into a possibility which thrives all odds. The world can also be change with only a thought no doubt.

Help me to make my Sunday mornings better, and for others.

Only a few brief seconds.
Only a thought.

Thank You, Di Mi

2008-04-27T21:57:00.008+08:00

"Bye Bye Mummy...Good night!!!"

I would always say this to my Mom before leaving her shop at night back to the house. I was still very small then, chubby and round - and my Dad would make sure that I was comfortable and safe behind him before making our way back to the house on his motorcycle.

Mom and Dad never stay at home for the night lest the shop of being looted. They sleep there while leaving me and my bro ourselves at night in our big but empty house, familiar with the smell of rat poop and dust until my aunt and my cousins shifted in together. My grandma used to say that the house looked like a haunted mansion until the day she lied in her coffin, and most of the time it was unlit and quiet with overgrown grass sprouting everywhere. After dropping me off and seeing me safely behind the brown gates, Dad would wave to me while I yelled loudly despite it was already late at night approaching 12:

"Bye bye, Daddy - GOOD NIGHT!!!"

My Dad is partially deaf, fearing that he could not hear me, I would yell until he nodded his head in response and sped off into the dark with only a bright red light tailing behind him. Over the years, I spent more time at home after school and seeing them less while talking to them more over the phone. And shortly after that, I call them 'Mi' and 'Di'.

* * *

"Bye bye Mummy Daddy...thank you so much, good night!!!" I literally yelled beside my Mom's ear. It's been a long time since I have said that in a very childlish way and I have always loved to see them smile with their eyes slanted slightly in a very beautiful manner - it never fails to warm my heart and elevate my soul. This time, two bright red lights tailing behind the van that they were in.

Braving the rain and the traffic, they travelled a few extra miles after seeing off a friend for business purpose just to ensure that their youngest son's food supply is well maintained. And what's more, their son is having his exam now - that gave them more reasons to drop by to see if he's doing well and eating good. With them, big pile of food greeted my sight - a bit exaggerated and lavish for a student, but all in the hope and eyes of two parents that it would suffice their youngest son's huge carnivorous appetite.

See the drumstick...?!!!

I have to admit that my Mom fares the poorest among her sisters when comes to culinary skill - she's best suited for the living hall like a Chinese idiom says which during the old time Chinese custom expects the lady to know cooking and other domestic skills to serve her husband better after his arduous day of work and to attend her children with good care. Besides marinating some chicken and processed meat, she's great in cooking instant noodles - and she advanced to fried rice. Full stop.

Ok ok ok - I am not doing any justice to her. I have to admit also that she's very creative and innovative - just that certain meals ended up in disasters, but mostly came with packages of surprise that you could never see in any menus in restaurants worldwide. Luckily her husband is tolerant all this while - but their youngest son shamelessly tell everyone from friends to relatives when asked that his Mom was numero uno when it comes to instant noodle before he could discover that she does fairly good in fried rice too, and it was because of all these 'sucky' food that he grew up to become a fine man of his own senses. Even their eldest son had no guts to tell people that!

Though it tasted bland, I could visualise the effort and time she purposely took to boil the rice and fried it well to ensure that each grain was coated with egg to perfection. While allowing my tastebud and teeth to do the work, I remembered the time when both of my parents had to have the rotan next to them during meal times so that I finished everything on the plate, not to play with food, good table manners and not to turn my head to the direction of the idiot box while the rest of the adults could do so while chomping down their food - it's so bloody unfair, I know. Oh yeah, the fried rice tasted love too.

Before making back their long journey back to Kajang, Mom told me that Dad purposely left his chicken drumstick for me and it was together with the pile of food. My heart honestly went Awww...that is so sweet - heck, I know it sounds a bit gay but that's fatherly love.

I confess that I am not those regular bloggers who enjoy blogging about their lavish life and posting up pictures of food with good presentation and followed by the signboard of some kind of expensive restaurants they have been, not to mention their laughters and send-me-up-the-wall-freaking smiles with the this-lime-is-torturing-my-tastebuds eyelids closed when placing some food into their mouth without even chewing them in the first place. But this time, I think, this is the type of food that I rather blogged about; and certainly I am sure the food above tastes very much better than theirs.

Off they went back to Kajang, and here I am telling ya'all about this. I guess at least this is what I can do for the moment, because saying 'thank you' to them verbally can never be enough - and my heart wish to tell the whole world about it. I do certainly feel like a kid now, but Physical Chemistry is forcing me to grow up to 20 by noon tomorrow. But in their eyes, I will always be that small kid that they have known best all these while.

Good night Mummy Daddy, see you next week. I love you. And tell Snoopy, Grace and Bushy sorry that the bones go into the dustbin, couldn't bring it back for them. Oh yeah, and sorry too - I went to play pool just now when I was supposed to be studying for my exam tomorrow - hehehehe.

In preparation for Maths paper later

2008-04-25T00:54:00.003+08:00

Practice for English Paper Tomorrow

2008-04-22T18:58:00.005+08:00

MUFLIS CORPORATION LTD.

012-016/019 Jalan Kopunye,

Taman Perindustrian Minewan,

11235 Selangor Darul Pengsan,

MALAYSIA takleh

To : Ms. Kong Loh Soh, Administration Department

From : Mr. Ai Ken Not, Supervisor, Production Department

Subject : Recommendation on Production and Efficiency Boost Plan

Date : 22nd April 8002

Being disatisfied with the low yield and production rate of the workers, the president of this corporation urged the Production Department to formulate a new plan to tackle this problem. Prior to his transfer to the asylum, he expressed his wish to have Ms. Kong to personally oversee and materialise his desperate attempt to steer the company from the inevitable likelihood of bancruptcy back onto the right track. Hence, this report should provide you with the sufficient insight and information to cast this whole corporation with the final beacon of hope of the president.

A specially set up committee to assess the situation before laying down the framework has discovered that huge number of workers are late to work everyday, reducing their production rate at a significant rate. A check on their punchcards revealed that majority of them are Malaysians living within the range of 2km from the workplace - oh well, Malaysians... . Hence to overcome this matter, the HR manager is only to employ workers who best are imsoniac. Alternatives should be workers who are single and possess their own tents or sleeping bags, applications from Spartans will be prioritised. The corporation should also annex part of the premises as campgrounds inclusive of kitchens and open bathrooms for the workers during the nights. The policy should be altered as well to make it compulsary for the workers to camp during weeknights, and pyjamas with Hello Kitty motifs are strictly prohibited. This, we believe, will surely reduce the number of workers late to work.

Besides that, the committee has also found a peculiar trait among all - yes, I mean all - workers during 5 minutes before noon and 5pm, where they will be in a ritual trance of chanting and agitated dancing; apparently worshipping the God JamDinding. Few are reported to exhibit their faithful devotion near all exits. On top of that, 11 out of 10 workers possess severe 4S (Sleeping Standing Straight Syndrome) - symptoms are heavily demonstrated particularly around 1 to 3pm - while operating heavy machineries. A medical treatment is recommended. Dubbed as 'Operation Frankenstein', the treatment will consist of implanting two semi-metal electrodes with antennae in both the brain hemispheres of the workers, followed by Imperio counselling with Dr He-Should-Not-Be-Named. The electrodes function to sent kilovolts of rejuvenating electricity to the workers when their brainwave are monitored to be below Einstein's recorded brainwave.

Lastly, all newly employed worker would be placed under a probation period of at least one week in the House of Wax before being confirmed of their employment by the corporation. Workers who survive below expectation would ~~dine in hell~~ be terminated by T-300 under the chemical shed behind the premise together with the head-pierced Paris Hilton. Apart from that, workers who are found to be exceptionally potential in waxing superiors' shoes would be instantaneously transferred to Housekeeping, Toilet Hygiene and Janitorial Department to further exploit their talents. Promotions would be given on the basis of ark building - manual Ark Building for Dummies will be given to interested applicants free of charge, courtesy of G Himself. Applications from X-Men should be strongly denied as it would lead to frequent interventions of Magneto that will render the machineries in the corporation to be condemned easily and beyond repair.

We hope that you will find the recommendations in this report informative and of expectation. Please do not hesitate to contact me on my hotline 1300-ESCORT-FOR-HIRE should you have any queries, I will be extremely overjoyed to assist you in anyway possible.

Thank you.

CC: Brangelina, Vietnamese Adoption and Employment Agency

Thinning Youth

2008-04-07T22:17:00.008+08:00

This is what the previous Saturday felt like to me:

Jimmy Eat World - Work

If you only once would let me
Only just one time
Then be happy with the consequence
With whatever's gonna happen tonight

Don't think we're not serious
When's it ever not
The love we make is give and it's take
I'm game to play along

All I can say
I shouldn't say
Can we take a ride?
Get out of this place
While we still have time

All the best DJs are saving
Their slowest song for last
When the dance is through
Its me and you
Come on would it really be so bad

The things we think might be the same
But I won't fight for more
Its just not me to wear it on my sleeve
Count on that for sure

All I can say
I shouldn't say
Can we take a ride?
Get out of this place
While we still have time
You want to take a ride?
Get out of this place
While we still have time
Yeah - We still have time

Can't say I was never wrong
But some blame rests on you
Work and play they're never okay
To mix the way we do

All I can say
I shouldn't say
Can we take a ride?
Get out of this place
While we still have time
You want to take a ride?
Get out of this place
While we still have time
We still have time

crono will be taking a break to focus much more on his coming examinations due to his frivolous academic conduct at the expense of his precious sleeping time and grades in his pursuit of sanity and satisfaction by the lines of his beliefs and so-called idealistic principles to ensure his life and mind are in harmonious integrity that is devoid of the superficial shell protected by a veneer of vanity casted over every single zombiefied member of the society - if his feeble determination prevails the temptations of the contemporary but temporary deceitful distractions around him that toy with his senses to collapse his mental barricade to reveal the fragile and certainly slimy mass of goo and neurons that can be obliterated in a blender with ease.

crono would like to extend his deepest gratitude to paulinahhh, nathaniel-tien-kwan-kira-semi-celestial-whatever-tong-weirdo, chia ~~sissy~~ cc, and the kononnya-sangat-sedap stephalicious for a wonderfully insane Saturday that he will never forget.

Dreamer

2008-03-31T22:25:00.013+08:00

I dream - a lot

Drifting aloft but not in dreams
Reality in reality soon intervenes
Eventuality will eventually rarify
Although so, to cease to dream
Morpheus would forbid me

Earth Hour 2008

2008-03-27T16:30:00.012+08:00

Sydney took the lead, the rest of the major cities worldwide are coming along together - even Bangkok and Manila. This is what one person can do:

The rest of the world are doing their responsibilities...what about you?

For you.

For me.

For our children.

Think again.

http://www.earthhour.org/

The Lonely Ride to the Orphanage on a Rainy Night

2008-03-26T09:49:00.005+08:00

It was dark. Cold invaded once the sun had set, and soon cloudy skies brought forth the vicious and fierce rain.

He was worried - very indeed. His heartbeat escalated with each droplet pounding the roof of the vehicle. Two figures seated in front of him were silent, they looked to the front without much motion, except for occasional hand movements to ease their itch.

Beyond the window, it was the same darkness. His vision couldn't make out anything, he felt vulnerable, with the darkness gnawing into every inch of his visibility. He feared that the blackened teeth would sink into his flesh, spilling his swelling agitation out.

Smog from vehicles and the creeping abyss of the night masked the raindrops. He couldn't see it, but he knew it was there through his faithful ears. The Rhythm of the Damp, yes he remembered, the unpredictive orchestrated downpour. And it showed no sign of arriving to an interlude or end, and the unending climatic buildup could pull his bladder trigger any moment.

The figures in front were still, as usual - if not for some mild conversations, it's all about staring into the blank. The man behind the wheel penetrated his vision beyond the dark, and his determination seemed unfaltered.

Orphans that he had met raced through his mind, Could it be that orphanage? Or maybe that...? He saw the children welcome him with open hands, despite he was taller, better dressed and well-built than most of them. An accident scene from his memory jolted his deep reverie. The missed sound of the rain revoked the familiar feeling of depression and tears-choking that he was caught into without realisation.

They had reached the place - but no children, no playground - only buildings with more than ten storeys high. He climbed down from the van relieved, slightly dazed.

He bade his parents farewell. The lady beside the man nodded her head and gave him a smile he would remember and cherish all his life - he was delighted of course. The raindrops continued to submerge into his hair and clothes, and his bags - he was covered with dark smudges of wetness everywhere.

He stood there, partially soaked, until the backlights disappeared from his sight. Still hidden from his naked eyes, the increased volume of the downpour channeled his worries deep further into his heart. The same images of the accident conjured in his mind again, but only this time, it was a wrecked and crumpled dark blue van. His worries soon clung to fear, wrapped by guilt. He shivered - he felt after all he was in an orphanage.

The sound of the rain pummeling at the zinc attap convinced him that.

Qualm

2008-03-20T23:49:00.001+08:00

His glasses are left on the table
That he squints his eyes
So hard to gaze at the ceiling above
Deciphering the scribbles of doubt
Printed on the shadow of the spinning fan

The still light beside the fan
Radiating teasing rays of illumination
Tainting everything they reveal
Blinding his vision mercilessly
Reminding him of mankind’s vulnerability in the dark
Seeking pride for itself like every human being

He sinks into his own bed
Like he sinks into his own thoughts
Illusive and hypocritical
Never knowingly the wind that glides on his face
The light that poisons his skin
The comfort of his only-trustable bed
Exist but are never real
Like the shadowy, doubtful scribbles
For his senses are fooled
And the mind’s deluded
By no one but himself

A Long Ponder

2008-03-15T20:45:00.011+08:00

My face painted the sheer disappointment in my heart. My hope was dashed. The rapid blood pulsating in my vein stopped abruptly after the chairperson had announced the last semifinalist. I froze on my seat while pulling myself up from the tears that were about to wet my acne-scarred cheeks. The hall went into sudden silence when the first semifinalist spoke, but I was too shaken up to concentrate, confused and feeling unrest. I remained to listen to the rest of the speakers, some were impressive, but my attention deviated sometimes until I saw a friend of mine whom I have not seen for a long time.

* * *

The competition was over, but the heavy upset stomach still lingers. Whether it is the mistake that I had done, the inconsistent judges or how worthy the selected semifinalists to be given a chance to be on the stage one more time, they do not hold an utter value of importance right now.

Jia Jun suceeded doing his parents proud and impressed his brother whom is the finalist of last year's competition. This was his first major one, and I believed he did awesomely well as well. Congratulations Jun!

Jahui came unannounced, sitting right there analysing every aspect of the presenters as a professional speaker. I removed my bag along with myself to sit next to him, after all, we had plenty of catching-up's to do. With Samantha along; we sneered, joked, criticized, questioned - oh of course - and we bitched too. It alleviated my despair a little, but it returned quickly before I could inhale the next breath.

Considering we had not seen each other for a long time, Jahui's family invited me for dinner in a wonderful northern Indian Punjabi cuisine restaurant in Brickfields. I was delighted of course, and salvated upon staring at the array of candies displayed with the provoking aroma of the spices floating from the kitchen. Food was marvellous, enjoyed every bit of it - the Masala tea, fruity naan especially, stewed cheese in spinach sauce and others!

Conversation over the table is always diversified for the five of us - covering from politics, philosophy to global and sharing experience. This family that I know embodies the intellectual and knowledge progress of mankind. I have always been the least verbal contributor, for I admit that I know the least thing. The brothers are spurting philosophers and quotes that I have hardly heard of in one second, and another second, their parents seem to relate the conversation to the current happening issues or surrounding events that I have failed to notice. And the next, they are arguing about differential approach or interpretation of the philosophies and the ethics behind the issues that humanity is facing. Most people run away when encountering us, maybe because the air above our table is always filled with words that are nonsensically complexed with Greek and Latin syllables to them.

Jahui has all the while been the adventurous, knowledge-hungry and an exceptional young man. On the verge of completing his IB (International Baccalaureate), he was interviewed for the prestigious Wesleyan and Harvard scholarships. He has represented us in many corners of the world for forums, competitions, international programmes; and next month, he'll be in Beijing to meet Jane Goodall. He spells envy for us all, but of course, as a non-believer of luck, he has sweated no little, not to mention the increasing number of blackheads on his bright face and his almost resemblance to Jack Skellington. He devours books more quickly than leopards sprinting for preys, and his brain is no smaller than an average library filled with books - not in terms of size of course. Debate, public speaking, performing art, activism, knowledge quest, human interaction - he has even planned for his road trip somewhere above peninsular Malaysia despite his hectic schedule. He makes nerds sound cool. But I strongly detest the term 'nerd' - because being knowledgeable and engaging in the quest of searching for it entitle our brain to have proper and full function - and it's for everyone.

I, on the other hand, was lost even at the mere conservations with him and Jun over the table. And I believe being no less busy than he is, I really find it hard to allocate time for other stuff besides academic. And I find it depressing, and always point to the university for the blame - the environment, the Chinese domination, stereotyping thinking, the confined syllabus, the ignorant students and the list goes on. But yet, he never complains, and he always has the time to pursue his dream or passion - which I ponder deeply on why I have been reduced so much all these years while watching him soaring higher each day. Why am I unable to fight for what I believe, dream? Why he can make more changes than me in this world? Why am I unable to enjoy my youth with wider expansion and better fufillment as a fully-functional being with a defined and invidualistic consciousness unlike him? Max Ehrmann once said:

“If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself”

But to an extent, I believe everyone needs a substance - solid one - to act as a reflection for oneself to measure - especially those are leading a carefree, ignorant and naive life. At the same time, what Ehrmann has said is the truth as well. But I refused to believe that my capability and effort are blocked by an invisible full stop when each time I am unable or unsure of how to continue.

Or is that my punishment, for snoozing for at least 20 minutes every morning, calling it a night although plenty of works are yet to be completed, being too lenient with sleepiness, oversleeping a nap on the couch when even the phone alarm has given up, being too idealistic sometimes and not permitting flexibility towards course members, failing to divide time properly, unable to finish the books that are sedimented by layers of dust on them, accidental waste of resources while preaching others about being negligent, permitting myself to some laze and leniency, bitching about others hypocritically sometimes even in the heart while trying to be a Buddha, turning insensitive and hostile when being selfish and self-preserving, allowing regret and surrender to take over sometimes, blaming on people and academic for the lack of time including the national education system, incompentency to learn and keep on track on anything, inability to multitask without distracted and forgetful, and watching an episode of Gundam 00 and sometimes a movie each week?

* * *

Right now, my puffy eyes are on the edge of giving up - while my thoughts are circulating around the reports due this coming early week, tutorials and revisions that I have purposedly put off for this competition despite its mental reasoning is crumbling quickly. How about my fight for a better world? Is education going to overshadow my passion and strong belief? How about dreams - or money? My family - will I jeopardise their hope that they envision in me? What if I am no difference from the others without realising when striving for perfection and idealism?

Before I joined the competition, I had started to fear. Fear that if I were not able to advance to the finals, to go to England on behalf of this country. Fear that my journey stops before there - journey to change this world, journey that will help me to make this world a better place, journey that will influence people, journey that will help me to influence people better, journey that will allow me discover myself further, journey for the egoistical self-recognition for emotional comfort and confidence assurance. That I am out of ideas in making my surrounding a better place for everyone and everybody to be a better man. That I am too weak to change people, to live my dreams, to uphold my principles and ambition that have become the basis of my existence now that will ensure my sanity in this filthy, corrupted world inhabited with humanoid vermins.

However, I realised, before leaving the venue, a staff told us that despite it was printed between the age of 16 and 20, that participants are still eligible if they have yet to turn 21 before the finals in UK; that I am still eligible next year. What I have previously worried as well, that this year would be my last year to leave behind an effective legacy among my community since I would be turning 20 this year, have gone - but parts of the doubt still remain as my ability to cope with a harder and more hectic next year has yet to be ascertained.

The ponder goes on.

Of 'Me', 'You' and 'Them'

2008-03-11T19:57:00.004+08:00

We have been always bugged by this dilemma.

You

She

They

Them

Why can't you just be I?

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it's the only thing that ever has."

_Margaret Mead

Imagining & Hoping

2008-02-26T20:14:00.021+08:00

"Remember, remember, remember the 13th of May - interracial clashes, fire and blood. I see of no reasons why this bloody incident should ever be forgotten"

I couldn't help but to drown myself in my own imagination while travelling back home that somehow the hectic streets of the capital were resonating with Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture whilst moment exactly when the clock struck midnight on the 12th May, the Sultan Abdul Samad building that stood majestically in front of Dataran Merdeka which housed the Malaysian High Court were erupting in sudden flashes of bright, colourful light and basked with massive heat together with huge chunks of bricks thrown into every single direction.

I couldn't help but to imagine that every newspaper in this country reported nothing but only the faked and fabricated illusive triumphs of this country, while TVs and radios endlessly spewing chants of Malaysia Boleh every minute to draped over the incompetency and lies that this country had to put up away from the sight of her people and the world.

I couldn't help but to imagine that a year later on the May 13th, the nation marched confidently to the Parliament with great pride for unity and understanding imbued in their hearts as one which was portrayed vividly on their P.Ramlee masks, to witness the raze of the historical building in a spectacular explosive fireworks accompanied by the spirit-elevating Overture as a symbol of a new country that rose taller than her dark past which marked as a new resolution and hope for her people.

I can't help - but only to continue imagining and hoping persistently in my heart.

Addicted

2008-02-19T23:32:00.005+08:00

Blame on this colourful cube that rotates your time away if you have expected to read something long here. And no, this is not the Allsparks that both the Autobots and Decepticons are vying for - definitely. It will just simply crash their system - my brain's next.

Fight Against Hunger

2008-02-04T21:16:00.000+08:00

This week is really a busy week for me. Assignments, tests, courseworks, deadlines, reports - you name them, you got them - since the week before I was in Ipoh separated from the online civilisation which I could not complete my work without. So unfortunately, this week spells redemption and late night oil burnings. By the way, for those who I have missed, Happy Chinese New Year!!!

However, though my life took the hectic turn, I have something meaningful and interesting to share with you all : FreeRice

With only a click of your mouse, your precise action will help save one, perhaps more, of the 16,000 children dying from hunger daily around the world - it's just a simple word game that does not take much time. For every correct answer you click, 20 grains will be donated to the programme by huge corporate companies around the world that seeks to eradicate famine as well - but only if you help and be a part of this. 20 grains at a time might seem tiny, but know that millions across the internet is playing their part, why shouldn't you? After all, spare a thought for those who can't even put a slice of bread on their dining table when people today feel unobliged to throw huge piles of food to waste.

To learn more on how you can play your role to fight against famine, log on to World Food Programme endorsed by the United Nations for more information.

It doesn't rob you of anything to save an extra soul that is not much different from yourself. What's more better than doing charity at the expense of improving your vocabulary bank?

Celebrating Humanity Through Arts!

2008-01-28T17:58:00.000+08:00

Yesterday was KL Performing Arts Center (KLPac) first open day!!! Weee!

KLPac in Sentul Park

What a magnificent sight to behold! The perfect exemplification of Malaysian triumph and epitomisation of mankind's intellectual progress and potential!

Built on the sturdy foundation of a disused KTM sawmill factory, the KLPac building is a brilliant and vivid fusion of the Malaysian colonial past and the current modernisation and expansion of local lifestyle. Parts of the old building still remain, most notably is the arched wall on the left where it contains the stage of Pentas 1 and the brick wall on the right. Apart from that, the wide roof tiles of the old sawmill are laced as interior decoration for Pentas 1 too. Three storeys tall, two Pentas and 8 studios: truly this building is what Malaysia needs for her people and a supportive platform for local arts scene to expand.

Since early primary days, I can't help but ponder endlessly the unwillingness of our Ministry of Education to view arts as a worthwhile investment for young Malaysians. Oh no - definitely not perdagangan, prinisip ekonomi, prinsip akauns and other dull subjects that are not even artistic in the first place. I'm talking about real arts: performing arts, music, dance, creative writing, literature, photography, paintwork, filmography etc - arts that allows one to be aggresively expressive and defy boundaries of any means. And hell no, I am certainly not referring to the muzik class installed in primary school syllabus that all students ever learnt are nursery ryhmes, partriotic songs and playing the recorder. Or the pendidikan seni that is clearly a no-no for Picasso wannabes where the order of nature is the supreme rule of the poster colours and drawing block.

Anyway, those are the closest things that students in national schools could get to arts. For children from poor families, being enrolled in national schools is of no difference than being sentenced to be artistically-doomed for the rest of their childhood. Tut tut.

Although it might be very much liberal in universities, somehow arts still find itself very hard to just POP up in one's head. And the most absurd thing that ever surfaced is that these varsities are so artistically-dilapidated that they are not even equipped with a language club, particularly ELS, or at least a functional one. It is arguable that clubs like music and dance certainly do not need any language to run smoothly. However, where does one who shall make the remark above expect the varsity he is in going to stand, or the direction of all the operations conducted in the uni are heading when the language is not placed any importance while English is the de facto and most basic message delivery? After all, language is the foundation of arts in many ways.

Without that, what value does other clubs or societies hold or are signifcant with? If it is so, there is no such needs to comtemplate farther to establish any science societies before a drama club or reading and literature club where rapid growth of knowlegde is in crucial need of language - especially when science is believed to be the salvation of the today's damaged Earth and longevity of humanity that most people are desperately seeking for to avoid extinction lest to be placed equal to other potentially-endangered species that are not so bright like us. Universities are always wrong to assume that science faculty does not need arts societies/clubs and vice versa - but they are too blind to see that both the elements complement each other to create the perfect and beneficial society. Meanwhile, it is also very unjust and unfair that such utter assumption does not present the proper opportunities to the students to develop holistically. Tut tut tut.

Remember, diversification has always been the key to stability.

When science does not make sense anymore, there comes arts. Arts has always been linked to artistic freedom. But in fact, it is freedom. The word 'artistic' there holds very little worth and in fact, a redundancy for art is everything - but only used by those who insists that arts is a disorder of nature. It allows us to explore everything from the unimaginable to the unquestionable, it does not conceal truths, but it does not hinder the possibilities of the unthinkable either. It prompts us to question the very foundation of being 'us' and what makes us 'us'. Arts even causes one to ripe with wisdom and mature with shine. It always present you a different sight no other else could have seen it - and most of the time they renew your perspective on life. Although they flow along, but arts never recognised any rules and frontier. And most importantly - it has the ability to change the world.

That is called 'arts', for a word of three letters are not enough to sum the whole paragraph, nor a paragraph can ever do it as well. A society that embraces arts will never decline. That's why even the ancient Greek realised and placed heavy emphasis on it. There's no barrier that stands even stronger before arts that can halt the progress of human civilisation.

As old as of primitive man himself; think of 'infinity', think of 'arts' - celebrating humanity has never been this good and fun.

Smile

2008-01-23T09:40:00.000+08:00

The coolness from the marble floor seeped through my cotton socks to the soles of my feet was pleasantly refreshing. The relaxing ambience of Joshua's apartment was glowing in a mixture of yellow and orange. The moon was perfectly round and gleamed beautifully that night, with most of the time if not covered, was decorated with small clouds at its side.

On the drive to his apartment, my friend related to me that he is living with his uncle - just that for now, his uncle is in China as an English lecturer there and won't be back for quite some days yet. My curiosity seized control of my mouth and vocal projectability while we were marching to his apartment. 'No', Joshua said firmly that his uncle isn't a bachelor and that his beloved wife passed away a few years ago. I was deeply sorry.

Before I could scan the whole surrounding of the apartment properly, a lady of a black-and-white photograph in wooden frame was smiling radiantly to me in one of the cabinets placed against the wall on my left. I approached it without much hesitation to get a better look at this lady who was warming my heart at first sight. Her smile was so lively despite it was only a picture where she posed her shoulders and tilted her head brilliantly to make her smile outstanding. But intuitionally, she was Joshua's deceased aunt. At the bottom of the picture, there were two lines of words sandwiching a date in between.

I travelled further into the apartment to the living room. With a spacious balcony equipped with a BBQ grill, an exercise machine and a table with two chairs at the opposite end; the room itself has video & audio equipments, two sets of comfortable sofas and an oddly tall coffee table compared to the average ones. Below the surface of the table, lied a thick book with hard covers which I mistook it as the family bible at first. As my fingers ran through the pages of the book, I realised that it is a photo album that Joshua's uncle holds dearest and closest to his heart.

The first few pictures in the album are the most recent ones, where his aunt looks pale and dons a colourful snow cap. In few of them, she is seen on the hospital bed with oxygen tube connected to her nostrils. She is rarely to be seen without her snow cap in her pictures, and constantly being surrounded by people, young and old but mostly young, in unfamiliar places to me that definitely are foreign lands.

The tour down her memory lane took me further into her teenage, or most probably, her early 20's years. She looks gorgeous and flawlessly pretty, and I think I saw her then husband as a young, handsome man standing next to her. Throughout all her pictures, the one most distinctive thing that survives time and even prevails death is the same memorable, radiant smile of hers. At the end of the tour, her smiles in every picture drew away my weariness and replenished my hope and faith towards the things I believe and the ones I cherish the most.

Again, curiosity got the best of me. Joshua replied that her aunt passed away due to breast cancer. Upon hearing it, my heart was deeply saddened as if I have known her for a very long time. And I felt that it was cruel to her husband and pitiful for him. For a man to bear the loneliness after the departure of his wife where their love pronounced in the church is meant to defy sickness, death and time; I couldn't seem to imagine the pain of living up everyday and coming back to home without seeing her for the remaining years, especially when all the children have grown up and left the house to start families of their own.

A drop of tear almost rolled down my right cheek then. Of course, I know I was childish and naive then. Some men handle these things better - I don't know how, but maybe because they got what they have prayed for every night and making the best out of each other every moment of their supporting presence, which at the end of the day when they are gone, nothing is lost and wasted and memories together with wishes of the departed ones thrive on as the inspirational source of living regardless how big the tinge of missing them might be. That's why people always say love works in a mysterious way. Joshua further told me that his uncle took it very acceptively and willingly, particularly when her aunt had been suffering for quite some time from the disease that corroded her life but not her smile and strength from time to time until to her deathbed.

Even though it seems that I might never have the chance to meet this wonderful couple who placed great love in each other, I dedicate this entry to both of them. I may not be His believer, but with the utmost sincerity, I hope that she will continue smiling radiantly as ever and has found peace, while God gives the man who has given his heart and life to her the strength to move on so that he is able to fulfil his life on this Earth as a meaningful man and to pass on her smile to everyone he sees like what she had done unto me.

The first line of the few inscriptions at the bottom of the picture I remember reads:

"Joyce Forever"

See you, Joyce.

01.17.08

2008-01-17T16:49:00.001+08:00

WARNING: This post contains small dosage of spoiler to the movie Cloverfield. Best viewed using Opera browser.

As I was pacing out from Hall 2 with hands snuck into my pockets, I was in fact trembling. The cinema was really cold, since it was barely 5 or 6 persons including myself according to my faithful memory trying to make sense of where the story was heading during the first 10 to 15 minutes. Or maybe because I just got jolted by unknown but high amount of suspense, disbelief, fear - I was terrified.

What felt like moments before the credits started rolling was running endlessly, scaling tall heaps of rubbles, got bathed by dust and risked of being squashed to death by chunks of debris, got attack by spider-like creatures while trying to avoid crossing the path of the gray, collosal creature of unknown origin performing mass destruction on New York and Manhattan, and of course, trying to keep the video camera alive and running well despite the hindrance it brought to this survival race.

Overall, the movie - in my opinion as a self-acclaimed film critic - managed to score a 7.5 out of 10. It's totally compelling, however it might not suit most people who are especially used to the conventional method of story telling with narrations and dialogues. One might find it closely related to the earlier 1999 horror-documentary The Blair Witch Project where the story is being untangled through the lens of video camera and the limited perspectives of the people captured by it rather than the general overseeing narration of situation and people involved in most other stories. Truthfully, for the first 10 minutes, I was being brought on a rollercoaster ride of motion sickness due to the uncertainty of video camera. However, this method proves to be really successful in conveying the story especially when it is done the 'ordinary people' way as proven in Cloverfield where it captures the emotions, fear, eye-witness experience and the gripping, unpredictable suspense efficiently in such panic-and-run situation that puts audience into the shoes of those people, particularly through the eyes of the one recording the whole event.

The story begins with a group of people in a farewell party right before a series of strong but short tremors hit Manhattan. The next thing they know is that huge explosions have taken place and the head of Miss Liberty somehow ended on the road near them after being flung easily like a baseball. Obviously, it is something huge with limbs that can only carry out that feat. But still, we are not sure of what it is and where it is from then until to towards the middle of the story. Though it's kept secretive at first, but the plot revelation is good to elevate the suspense and provoke the interest of the ones watching, and everything including the monster's appearance seems to be at the right time and purpose.

Right even before the release of Transformers last year, teaser trailers of Cloverfield had been released in cinemas all over America to build the anticipation up. It was short and without title, but only mentioned JJ Abrams as the producer of the movie from the Lost fame. The trailers only depicted that Manhattan suffered from destruction but not knowingly what was that, and it was observable that the degree of damage and the flying head of the Statue could not be due to terrorism or something of today's arsenal. Funny it sounds, cinema-goers at first mistook it as the teaser trailers for Transformers itself. Unconfirmed speculations made by the public include alien invasion, monster ala Godzilla style, and the less convincing one - terrorism. Some went as far to conclude that it's a Cthulhu based on a book by H.P. Lovecraft. In an unaccredited source, it is confirmed by JJ Abrams himself that the humongous alien is - in fact - an alien.

Extra measurements were carefully taken by the producers to ensure that no leak could reach the public until today in Malaysia and certain parts of South East Asia. Our not so-near-neighbour, America will only get to watch it a day later than us. I have to admit and be amazed despite the massive shoots of scenes all over the crowded Manhattan and the huge amount of people were involved, there was no information that was leaked to the public until the movie being reeled in cinemas globalwide. Now that's what I called a brillliant marketing strategy and it won huge response there - but it is not so heavily promoted in Asia. That explains the reason behind the scarcity of audience in the hall today although today's the premier.

For that 90 minutes; I felt like being transported to Manhattan, witnessed the monster with my own eyes, running away from disasters all the time, being manipulated by the uncertain but strickening fear, covered with ash and dust and lost all hopes within the rubble of Manhattan. I might have considered giving it a 8.5 to 9 rating over 10, but the video camera motion-sickness - damn.

Fake Fate

2008-01-09T21:21:00.000+08:00

Call me stubborn. Call me blasphemic. Call me a faith-nihilist. Call me anything you want.

Or say that I will burn in the hell inferno. Say that God will pass his verdict unto me. Say that I am sinful and a disgrace. Say anything you want. You have every right to practise your liberal freedom of speech.

But I am never a believer of fate. Luck, destiny - whatever you call it - never once. Nor will ever be.

Whether I am sipping a cup of coffee (heavy caffeinated), in the lavatory preparing the dough for sewer-brownies, or in the train gazing at the scenery beyond the window like a 9mm film reeled in high-speed motion; I can't help but laugh sillily to myself thinking that up there far beyond the visible sky is someone - or a being - much more supreme and of course, divine than me is the one who is controlling all my doings, actions, thoughts - and including who my wife is supposed to be! Simply saying: there is an holier-than-thou control freak up there trying to determine everything about my life including drawing out the possibilit~~ies~~y of my future direction.

WOAH Woah, hold on a sec - though I am non-theistic, but I am not declaring a war with anyone from any religious backgrounds, nor being religiously hostile and offensive. I am just merely remarking the absurdity behind certain individuals' belief that always bear the slogan of 'Let It Be, Let It Be' as if Sir Paul McCartney is convincing them that things are the way they are today is not due to their own doings or anyone's. So here they are trying to implicate that their lives are being intertwined with each other and interfered by a much more...oh well I don't know if they are referring to an ephemeral abstract or humanoid being, or any entities of supreme power with uncertain form. Or maybe it can also mean a being that actually co-exists harmoniously in the sub-conscious, and maybe the imagination of the human mind - like the big fat purple freak Barney the Dinosaur that even my younger god-sis aged 6 refuses to watch.

"Thou shalt submit thine life to me!!! And together we shalt rule...oops - imagine the future of thee - MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! GLOOOORYYYYY!!!"

As a friendly reminder, it's my pleasure to re-assert the fact that confusing me with an atheist is very risky to anyone's intellectual and rationale improvement. Unlike Mr There's-No-Such-Thing-As-God, if He were to be really of existence and to manifest in front of His people to silent the ensuing debate - probably the hottest one in the history of human civilisation - I can still sleep very soundly at night even though the bed bugs might be biting me. But to dwell on such triviality of His existence, cummulative time that possibly stretches all the way back into formation of the Pangea has already been wasted. OK, I might be overexaggerating here, but it's the very truth that each second spent arguing of whether is He a protozoa, exists, humanoid or anything can be put into other better use especially benefiting others.

No matter how elevated or lowly is our belief and faith towards His existence; there is no solid answer that unifies all fields and principles of religions, science, sociology and economy that demonstrates whether He truly exists or not. To say that He exists will provoke the debate and invite massive troubles of another, to say the opposite will trigger extremism and the collapse of today's religious institutions. Either way will cause uneasiness, and maybe havoc, among the public members of diverse beliefs and cultures. Hence, it justifies my position as a non-theist - but I ended up being deemed as a coward by extremists before indirectly stating that I am being a conformist in the end in my own nature as accepting His presence into my life will change everything from A-Z i.e. creating a helluva mess out of my life. Well, you have every right to argue that as well.

By eliminating the concept that God has already forseen the fate of all mankind as if he is looking into us like an 8-ball and ordered the The Fate sisters to play with their scissors and spunning wheel so that they can learn some scout knots with our life threads, it's clearly painted out that the position of where I am today is a testimonial of the effort I poured from a second ago to all the way back to my childhood. To put things in a simple edible manner to the human understanding, if one is conscious that exam is coming but still prefers to procrastinate even to the very last minute - and of course, we don't need God to predict that he did far below expectation to see it ourselves. So, unless you're rationalely and intellectually challenged, you would have already know who is to be blamed. If your family is poor, will you just sit on a boulder the whole evening cursing at the sky while you are not lifting your finger one bit to improve the situation itself? Think about it...oh, but don't see and think of me as hardworking like a bee. I enjoy daydreaming and sparking up my imagination into life most of the time.

You might want to argue that some man born wise, some born with a silver spoon in the mouth, while others might born into families that are trying to make ends meet or, become autistic or with cerebral palsy. You venture to the extent of labelling all these things that you are unable to control in the first place as 'fate' - but the truth is you're deluded. Or among the crowd on that day, you are the misfortunate one whose pants got a hole to reveal the Garfield boxer you are wearing or your expensive high-end mobile just got stolen. Just because you are unable to see it coming, doesn't mean you have to blame it all on luck and just forget about it while you are not anticipating the possibility that it might strike you again any moment. I have friends who lives with disabilities - some of them are congenital, I see people sleeping on the streets with teary eyes when approached with food and clothings, I see my lil sister defied death twice and now persevering to play and run like a normal child despite having mitochondriac disorder, I see her mother ever showering her with love and unwaned patience taking care of her though it means sacrificing all her time and strength but not her will, and I see children everywhere in the world struggling to attend lesson while working to support their families.

They never complain, they never do, because life's too short to complain while there is so many other things to fight for. We don't live in slums like the Vietnamese, in the cemetary like the Philipinos or in war-torn areas like the Africans and Middle-East people. We get clean water and rice, noodles and even breads everyday. We have lights to ward off the teasing darkness. If you want to complain that how unlucky your day is or why isn't your destiny bringing you to a bed of roses - try to take a glimpse at the others surrounding you without looking across continents and oceans, and you will know what I mean. We are blessed with almost infinite options and bountiful solutions. But the question is: "Has anything you done make your life better?"

Ashen Snow

2008-01-03T20:23:00.000+08:00

Wish I
LIke them; people
Papers that they throw away
Litterred with scribbles
Of dissatisfaction
Of lustrous love
Of hate
Of unending worries
Of crying jealousy
Of ugly
Of our blackened heart
Into the wastepaper basket

Wish I
Like them
Be bathed in negligence
Be basked in ignorance
Encased in the Oblivion Sphere
Of the illusive happiness
Drenched with bitter tears

Wish I
For them
To cast those papers into the fire
Burn us of our filthy emotions
To leave only the bones of compassion

Oh ashen snow
Arised from the burning fire of doubt
Winds shall lift you
And let you who bear all the bad
Be flown gracefully - away; perished!
For you will only melt into the feelings of men
Your deceiful pulchritude

Mamma Mia - here we go AGAIN

2007-12-27T20:17:00.000+08:00

Over countless times, I am really shameful to even acknowledge myself as a Malaysian. This is one of those times.

On the eve of Christmas at Gurney Drive in Penang, the island folks gathered around to ~~celebrate the coming of this year's Yuletide~~ hold a riot to debunk the myth behind the existence of St. Nicholas ~~like~~ unlike most of the other places or cities on Earth. As usual - to mirror the fact that we are a species who are highly clueless, despite our greatly-praised intelligence, on what to do on the eve of festive days year after year *not anymore - gatherers marked the commencement of the ~~highly-celebrated day~~ riot with a ~~countdown~~ childlish artificial snow warfare. To ensure the smooth progress of the ~~evening celebration~~ riot, a small team of police was present to ~~contain the erupting excitement~~ operate as snow-spraying accuracy practice dummies for the crowd. The video below tells the whole story with a mixture of Hakka, Mandarin, Boo, Yay, Wah-Seh, Bluek etc narration.

At the first glance of the video, numerous questions pummelled at my brain. At the end, it looks more like the MHA (Malaysia Hooliganism Association) having a recruitment drive while spreading their teachings and running a petition to be officially recognised as a political party in disguise. It is also one of the follow-up rallies eversince the BERSIH and Hindraf which had just recently taken place. And according to eyewitness accounts and certain off-record reports together with the press, the unorganised event takes place thrice a year (eve of New Year, Merdeka and of course the most recent one, Christmas) and in a few places simultaneously most notably in KL, Penang and Johore. But suprisingly, instead of having riot-control personnel dispatched like the former two rallies, this one will only have a few police officers with maybe a Waja or two sent out to single-handedly suppress the aggresive and menacing force of the crowds who are mostly youth and physically healthier with very much smaller waistbands than them. Guess the remaining of the force were at home stealing Santa's cookies and milk.

Somehow, the most highly-anticipated and hugely-attended drive of all three is definitely going to be the one on Christmas eve, since Malaysians are really bright in this geographical point that the country has only two climatic outcomes which are either shine or rain - but not snow - due to its location near the equator. In a desperate (but vain) attempt to reenact the white Christmas that folks of the northern hemisphere enjoying but can only be watched in the idiot box by the people here, Malaysians have to resort to the cheaply and mass produced artificial snow spray sold only in canisters to create the atmosphere in a really tiny, micro degree. Elsewhere while everyone is contemplating of the possibilities of a terror Christmas, anthrax-containing presents and a suicide Santa Claus; Forbes is having a major issue in deciding should the use~~less~~ful artificial snow spray canister be ~~totally ignored from~~ included in its list of 'Top 100 Most Important Inventions of The Century'.

* * *

Proper story available here - another great Malaysia Boleh! story of the 'First World Infrastructure, Third World Mentality' volume. Click here for an earlier story from the same mentioned volume.

It's noticeable from the video above and other related videos on YouTube that most of the crowd members were Chinese youth. And I have to say the pre-Christmas celebration did really look like a cheapskate Chinese version of the earlier Hindraf rally, with an added dose of hooliganism plus uncivility but minus the violence and bloodshed. People in other places/countries danced, clubbed, cheered, drank etc and some even engaged in sexual intercourse in the middle of the countdown. While some who were highly intoxicated in the Christmas spirit had already started countdown 86400 seconds before the clocks struck midnight on the eve itself. They were enjoying themselves and celebrating Christmas. And we here celebrating under the rain of empty canisters, rubbish, paper boxes etc. And after everything was over, venues everywhere looked more like white Christmas-themed dumpsters. Being a youth myself, I think these bunch of monkeys are really bored because 'fun' is not used or gained by invoking the anger of others or causing a menace, harm and damage to the public. It is also not meant for humiliating anyone including ourselves and degrading our mentality.

Look's like the conclusion I shall leave for you to draw as there's nothing much to be said about everything, from the mentality of the community to the efficiency of the authorities and the Vision 2020 joke that we are telling the whole world it's in our grasp. Because this ain't the first one, it also ain't the last one either.

Pool

2007-12-19T18:42:00.000+08:00

I went for a swim today. Full stop.

I meant yesterday. It was fun honestly – it’s been months since I last dipped my toes first and my whole body later into a big, deep, refreshingly cool pool. But the day was cloudy and raining throughout the whole afternoon.

The chilly tingling sensation reminded me much of my childhood in Ipoh. Whenever my Yee Yee was back from England, she would always take us all to a public pool in a sports arena in Ipoh-I-don't-know-where – or annoyingly, I would pester my elder cousins to take me to the pool until they got haunted by it and agree with me. Though I don’t really swim – even till now (oh well, it is slightly embarrassing) – I would do what kids like to do when they were in the pool: splash at each other, jump as if I was a meteorite, run around if it’s shallow enough or placing my hands at the curb to get around if it’s deep, try to freestyle (though it hardly improves till now), spy on girls and trying to hide my spare asset (refer below) as usual.

spare as·set /spɛər as-et/

-noun
1. an extra item or property that acts as backup
2. replacement item

-problem
3. a swelling of any degree at either the front or both sides of the abdomen , or both
4. connected to health complications e.g. obesity, bloat, Kwashiorkor, genetic hereditary
5. a persistent appearance deformity (not applicable to everyone)
6. a condition where bikinis, beaches, swimming trunks, speedos, clothing M size and below are best avoided
7. severity can result in social alienation, displacement and loss of confidence

-symbol
8. fashion trend of the 21st century
9. unhealthy lifestyle
10. the rich or the well-to-do community
11. individuals of huge apetite, alcoholic or tendency to over-eat

-synonyms 12. reserve, 13. extra, 14. replacement, 15. spare tire, 16. fatso/fatass, 17. plump, 18. tummy, 19. beer belly/ beer gut/ pot belly, 19. spare part, 20. crono

Removing those extra pounds is never easy, but gaining them back is. Before the trip to the swimming pool, I dropped by at the nearest mall to get myself a speedos that will come in handy the next time whenever I need to go to pools that require proper swimming attire. To my horror, those packets of RM 1.20 nasi lemak each morning in the office for two months and endless streams of food that I am kinda obliged to wallop down my esophagus (which the elders in my house thought that it would compensate for the weight I have lost, and for the one who did the cooking to feel good) really discouraged me to look at the mirror without any shirts on in the near future. The rest I shall leave it to your imagination and interpretation *pukes

Upon reaching the pool, the weather's turning better with the sun retreating to give way for the night to veil itself on the sky. I could see that everyone was swimming, while I paid 6 bucks to soak myself in vast amount of cold water.

Conscience: Hey! Go learn to swim better, you idiot!! Why are you wasting your six bucks? - you think it's easy to earn ah?

crono: You know I don't really swim since I am a kid right...? *sneering at Conscience* besides it's my problem lah! I am still enjoying myself anyway, and look: I am learning how to float in the wa -

A friend suddenly came towards me and with his full force despite my few water-kicks, he managed to pull me to the middle of the pool *sei lor.... (means 'die' in Cantonese). I ended up like the ants I picked up from the bucket of rice thrown to the sink filled partially with water yesterday.

Conscience: MUAHAHAHAHAHA - serves you right!!!!

crono: Ah shut - bluuup blrrp - up - blrrrp....

The funny thing which I find very abnormal and funny is that instead of like normal people who would have the words 'drowning' and 'death' flashed in their brains when in my situation, I had questions like 'Why the heck are they (my friends) so slow?...faster lah...!' flashing across my mind like the colourful LED screens you can see at any terminals. I think I would be very speechless and maybe clueless first before being hit by disappointment if afterlife exists after all and as a ghost I get to retain my memory and consciousness - if I really drown.

But too bad (?!!!), I did not drown - since blog entries can only be done by a real physical humanoid entity that posseses the ability to operate the computer and manages a blogspot account, and while you are reading this entry at the same time - so I truly apologise if you are disappointed instead. We spent a few more while after that before heading home.

During the journey back, I was contemplating if I were in deep water due to any mishap or misfortune, I couldn't guarantee that I will remember the floating lesson (it hasn't reached perfection yet) I have received just now, nor my limbs would synchronise itself to freestyle (doubt that it will even work). Most probably I would be gripped by panic and anxiety first, and before I can finally set my mind straight and response - I would have already disappeared and be observed floating motionlessly on the surface with my spare asset grown bigger few days later.

With chill sent to my spine, I yearned to return back to the pool immediately. However, the car was already rolling down the hill.

A Bothersome Thought

2007-12-06T21:36:00.000+08:00

WARNING: This entry is not suitable for the immature (but it's ok if you are underage), the feeble-minded etc. Viewers' discretion advised.

From morning until now, a bothersome thought have invaded my conscious mental territory and made a mess out it. It seems like my egocentric personality is trading punches with my conscience.

Conscience: You bloody egocentric asshole, is winning that important to you?!!! *unleashing the famous Wong Fei Hong's Shadowless Kick*

Egocentric: Why do you care so much, take good care of yourself first dickhead! It's not like people give a damn to what you are preaching - who gives a fuck if this world turns into a barren wasteland, or people screwing with each other with guns and bombs, why must they care about those negros in...like what, huh Af-me-ri-ca you were saying that day - when they are eating - NONSENSE! *swaying body from left to right evading Conscience's attack with ease*

Conscience: It's African - NOT negros, you i- *received a hard solid punch into the face*

Egocentric: You're a pathetic shit...!

* * *

Oh well, my imagination must be pretty hardworking. Anyway...

Presumably Conscience lost the fight - but not his will

Conscience: *wiping off the almost dried blood from his mouth* Expectation - hmpph - I should be and am of my own expectation - NOT yours, sucker!

crono: You are so damn right!!!! I am so fucking proud of you - attaboy!!

I may be hypocritical, but I remained steadfast. I may be judgemental and offensive, but it's the very truth. I know of no big, great words; but at least I know what is right and wrong. I am me.

But the whole day while I am working, as the fight ensues, it does bring up some mild annoyance - it really irritates me, on the inside.

Early December

2007-12-03T15:38:00.000+08:00

Alas, I can finally breathe!

I quitted my job on the last day of the previous month to buy myself time to rest before uni starts early next year and to clean up the mess that I left strewn around after exam had ended two months ago. Thought that I can celebrate the start of Christmas month with a good, deep sleep – but seems like things prefer to take the other turn.

Friday the 30th ended with the movie Across the Universe and Roti Boy, which at the end of the day, I was intoxicated with Hey Jude and Let It Be replaying in my head until now. Upon reaching home that night, I wish I could skip dinner and head straight to bed so that Paul McCartney and John Lennon could continue lullaby me to sleep.

Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah – nah, nah, nah, nah – Hey Ju..ZzzZZzz

Dec 1st, Saturday

It’s ironic that the weekend started with the annoying buzz of my alarm clock despite the fact that I don’t need to work on Saturdays anymore. Oh well, the culprit that set the alarm clock turns out to be me actually as today is not a resting day yet. But MOVE!!! GO!!! my will silently yells to yank me off my still much-needed slumber. Hence, early morning, my computer keyboard has already rattled more violently than a rattlesnake to get my mails of appreciation sent to my ex-colleagues and -employers.

By noon, after a quick lunch, it’s time to get myself properly dressed - it's the World AIDS Day Carnival in Sungai Wang Plaza organised by PT Foundation and UN with Jun (Jahui’s brother)! As volunteers, both of us are assigned as photographers – though only one camera is available. The carnival is great! Awesome performances by the LGBT community and students from universities and schools. Dedicated volunteers are to be seen everywhere doing their part to send a shockwave of stronger awareness to the public in and around the mall. But the ugly side: certain members of the public actually throw derogatory and discriminating remarks at the crowd and performers and, the vivid and arrogant ignorance carved on the faces of most people that march away from us with disgust without giving the whole social-plaguing issue a thought at all.

1 person got infected with HIV every 7 seconds
1 person died of AIDS every 11 seconds
31,200,000 are infected worldwide
2,100,000 have died worldwide in 2007 due to AIDS – 330,000 of them are innocent children

"May the awareness resonates louder and further everyday"

By evening, together with Jun’s parents, we head over to ISKL in Ampang to watch Jahui’s directorial debut play in Underground: A Montage of 6 Plays. This time, sadly, I have to skip Kechara Soup Kitchen as I have long promised and eager to watch plays or drama from ISKL students especially when he’s involved - after all he’s still one of my closest friends. The whole Montage and its content is wonderful, brilliant, perfecto! – wished that it can reach to bigger audience next time if it has the chance to be re-performed again. Thank you so much Jahui! – love ya!

December 2nd, Sunday

Another morning of the weekend where the same alarm clock initiates my day. Need to get to SGM Kaikan in Cheras early as I have a pre-show performance today. And with Kai Wei needs to prepare for his last STPM paper tomorrow, the bus seems to be the final and most feasible option - which costs me 5 minutes late due to my unfamiliarity with the bus routes.

The pre-show performance is a flop, kinda disastrous – don’t ask why. The day continues with our practice as our dance assessment is pulling nearer. At the end of the practice, I choose to talk about AIDS for the First Aid Session as yesterday was World AIDS Day and it is a topic I am familiar with. And woah - the translation to Cantonese proves to be very challenging as I am banana myself. Thankfully, Jia Enn is there to help me get the message conveyed to the group – thanks a lot.

December 3rd, Today

I got what I need!!! – an 11 hours sleep, but I still wake up in a drowsy state and planning to hop on back into the same bus that takes me to slumberland. But I resist! I fight! I protest the sleepiness in me! Instead, I still feel lazy – but NO! – time is of essence. I have so much things to do, including a major project I gave myself earlier and vowed to see it turned into a success.

I will finish it – but whether it will be successful, there will an answer, let it be.

The Return

2007-11-27T17:45:00.001+08:00

My breathing is slow. So slow that I can count the rhythmic air being exhaled out and inhaled in. Maybe because I am feeling bored and devoid – or maybe I am feeling fatigued here. My senses are slowly turning numb, and I can feel every single pinch of the cold air like of the invisible nails extensions of the Empress Dowager.

After being absent from the blogging community for more than a year, I realized how different at the end of the day I have become. I am lonely, expressionless and not intellectual-satisfied. I miss sorely those hilarious entries, constant mind-bugging philosophies, heart-touching stories of struggles, provocative thoughts that manifest themselves from the worries and inner debates of mankind, and the ever-flowing ideas of bloggers around the world. I was then contented, and felt fulfilled.

My departure was abrupt due to studies, and so many things I have seen and learnt throughout the year I feel so bad that I am unable to share with many of my readers who might still be shadowed by oblivion. So now I am back, and I am thrilled to say this.

All my previous entries I have scrapped them off from the blog, I have the changed the layout and contents – to signify more of what I’ve become and to symbolise a leaf being turned over anew.

My thoughts might be more direct and offensive in some aspects now that I am more mature as my information reception recognises no boundaries, and people find me more complicated and perplexing than the Afghan-US war conspiracy itself – but it’s ok, I have learnt to accept that. At times, I am enraged – at times, I am saddened – at times I smile with joy over humanity’s stories – but this is who I am all along.

And this blog will be my voice, my expressions, my materialised imaginations. Let the words travel faster than light, let it be louder than a sonic boom, and let it overpower the nuclear bomb, and let it amplify the hopes that all of us hold dearest in our hearts.

Cheers,
crono