That Moment

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.

Humanity: Point to Ponder

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?

Musing of A Young Malaysian

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...

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

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...

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!

Food for my soul

For original related story, click here.

Inconceivably Insane

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

Just a thought

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

"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.

Thinning Youth

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.

The Lonely Ride to the Orphanage on a Rainy Night

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.

A Long Ponder

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.

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.

Recommended extra reading: A year of bull, broken promises, “blog-heads”, bigots and bravehearts (Aliran)

 

Addicted

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

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?

Smile

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.

Fake Fate

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 possibilitiesy 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

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

Pool

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.