I had been keeping a journal all this while and I named it recently: "08-11". Got it since 2008 and began writing my visions and reminiscence on it and ended it in 2011. Looking back at it shows how immature I used to be and how different a person I had become. I used to be so radical in my first few entries and gradually, I became a little softer.
I should say I am grateful for my past actions to not just tear away the pages if it doesn't suit my thinking anymore. It's good to keep my mistakes in "08-11".
I ranted about religious issues, moral issues and even political issues from 2008 to 2009. Stopped my writing along the year and began again in 2010. Few entries did changed my life. As a tribute for this trusty keepsake of mine, I will include some of the most interesting excerpts found within the vaults of "08-11".
"Don't be afraid if you had been stepped on for your stages of mistakes. You can be sure that once you step out of your mistakes, you will fly above those who once stepped on you." - Butterfly, 25 October 2009.
"I promise that I'll win this war, for my family and for God." - Redeeming My Life, 9 December 2009.
"We can never appreciate the works of art the same way as how the creator did." - Literature, 13 August 2010.
"You don't continue your game of poker with small hands with no pairs. You don't love if you know eventually you're going to break up." - The Art of Folding, 20 April 2011.
"There are no good or bad endings, just the survival of our souls." - How a Good Ending Should Be, 18 May 2011.
"So, goodbye for now, my fellow readers. I am sure you will see me again." -The Final Step of My First Endeavour (Last Entry), 24 July 2011.
Showing posts with label Event Specials. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Event Specials. Show all posts
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
"The Gods Had Spoken"
My mum always have the habit of visiting the Chinese temple for some fortune-telling annually. Not to say superstitious, but she abides by Karl Marx's law, something about "opiate of the masses". My siblings and I often hear what and what not to do every year from the Chinese gods. And I often roll my eyes every time my mum read out the fortunes to us.
But this year's fortunes are a little bizzare . You might want to know what I got for this year. As my mum read out the slip, I was told not to mess around with somebody else's girlfriend. My brother and I laughed out loud at that. Funny crap. I don't think I have any crush this year. Not yet. Thank you very much.
The second paragraph astounded me. A lot. It's not even about what or what not to do anymore. It's a compliment. From the gods. About my short stories. Even my mother doesn't know that I write short stories.
"He have great skills for writing stories and he possesses a bright future with that skill."
There you go. Direct quotation.
I never really believed in gods and I am a firm believer in monotheism because I am not capable of pleasing too many gods. But this compliment coming out from the fortune-teller, it's funny. Almost too funny.
I guess that's true. They are indeed the opiate of the masses.
I found comfort in those compliments.
But for that heads-up about "someone else's girlfriend"......
But this year's fortunes are a little bizzare . You might want to know what I got for this year. As my mum read out the slip, I was told not to mess around with somebody else's girlfriend. My brother and I laughed out loud at that. Funny crap. I don't think I have any crush this year. Not yet. Thank you very much.
The second paragraph astounded me. A lot. It's not even about what or what not to do anymore. It's a compliment. From the gods. About my short stories. Even my mother doesn't know that I write short stories.
"He have great skills for writing stories and he possesses a bright future with that skill."
There you go. Direct quotation.
I never really believed in gods and I am a firm believer in monotheism because I am not capable of pleasing too many gods. But this compliment coming out from the fortune-teller, it's funny. Almost too funny.
I guess that's true. They are indeed the opiate of the masses.
I found comfort in those compliments.
But for that heads-up about "someone else's girlfriend"......
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
As An Assistant Director
Nearing the end of the whole 10 weeks of grueling hard work in preparing this play, I (as always) encountered some shit-talks about me not doing my job as an Assistant Director. Shit-talking is just common, particularly in my group of friends.
On the first week of preparing the play, the scriptwriter team bashed their head on the scripts and the storyline. Ideas were evaluated, some small details were taken, big details are scrapped. So I told my director that I would finish the storyline myself and submit to the lecturers tomorrow.
I designed the story to be narrated by a mother to her child (Later changed to grandfather to his granddaughter)
And true enough, the lecturer said she would accept some of my scenes into the play. I was proud, but really, I'm writing this to prove my point. I did something. Especially some of the actors who complained about my 'idleness' had their chance to shine in the scene created by me. That is what pisses me off, honestly. Put yourself in my shoes and you would know.
I was there every night to discuss about how to arrange the scenes. I was there to facilitate and control the actors whenever the director is discussing the technical aspects of the play: lighting, sound, stage.
It's just sissy move to say all this when we're nearing the end of the play, I don't even have the chance to do anything about it because I was focusing on the big show itself. I controlled all these anger and frustration to preserve the team's morale and ensure this will be their best memories in Unisel.
You're joking, you're joking. Same old things to say. But I do take jokes seriously, pardon me.
Shatish Selvarajah, Zharif Iskandar, Ahmadiliman. You know what I'm talking about.
"In the end, we might emerge with a masterpiece and all of us didn't do shit." - The 'lazy-ass' Assistant Director
On the first week of preparing the play, the scriptwriter team bashed their head on the scripts and the storyline. Ideas were evaluated, some small details were taken, big details are scrapped. So I told my director that I would finish the storyline myself and submit to the lecturers tomorrow.
I designed the story to be narrated by a mother to her child (Later changed to grandfather to his granddaughter)
And true enough, the lecturer said she would accept some of my scenes into the play. I was proud, but really, I'm writing this to prove my point. I did something. Especially some of the actors who complained about my 'idleness' had their chance to shine in the scene created by me. That is what pisses me off, honestly. Put yourself in my shoes and you would know.
I was there every night to discuss about how to arrange the scenes. I was there to facilitate and control the actors whenever the director is discussing the technical aspects of the play: lighting, sound, stage.
It's just sissy move to say all this when we're nearing the end of the play, I don't even have the chance to do anything about it because I was focusing on the big show itself. I controlled all these anger and frustration to preserve the team's morale and ensure this will be their best memories in Unisel.
You're joking, you're joking. Same old things to say. But I do take jokes seriously, pardon me.
Shatish Selvarajah, Zharif Iskandar, Ahmadiliman. You know what I'm talking about.
"In the end, we might emerge with a masterpiece and all of us didn't do shit." - The 'lazy-ass' Assistant Director
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Layla Majnun Theatre - Post-Mortem
Not more than 20 weeks ago, I found myself and the bunch of scriptwriters arguing and brainstorming about the Layla-Majnun play. Tonight, I found the whole crew walking past the audiences while they clapped and cheered for us. Like all success, there had to be sacrifice. Everybody encounters their own problems. Each and every department had their own forms of crises.
But I admit that we've a lot of fun too. We've shared our laughs with people of different classes and semesters, this assignment brought us together. I've had my fair share of laughs too. Taking pictures of my teammates who were sleeping, or while they were eating. And sometimes not to mention the moment where they started to make weird faces.
I'm the guy to be 'feared' by the actors and the actresses in the Layla-Majnun play. As one of them complains, "Everytime we see Chan, we'll get dragged into PG2 (Rehearsal Room)."
It's not easy to control a bunch of actors who are hyperactive. I lost my energy even before the rehearsal starts.
To end this, I would like to thank my lecturers, Madam Zarihan and Zainon and our senior, Praveen for coordinating the dance moves. Without them, this play wouldn't have happened.
As for actors and actresses, let's hope that the next time I see you, I won't have to drag you into PG2 again.
P.S.: This post was created 2 days ago and was set to auto-post. I did this because I knew I'd be busy with the Theatre. And also because I knew you guys would succeed.
But I admit that we've a lot of fun too. We've shared our laughs with people of different classes and semesters, this assignment brought us together. I've had my fair share of laughs too. Taking pictures of my teammates who were sleeping, or while they were eating. And sometimes not to mention the moment where they started to make weird faces.
I'm the guy to be 'feared' by the actors and the actresses in the Layla-Majnun play. As one of them complains, "Everytime we see Chan, we'll get dragged into PG2 (Rehearsal Room)."
It's not easy to control a bunch of actors who are hyperactive. I lost my energy even before the rehearsal starts.
To end this, I would like to thank my lecturers, Madam Zarihan and Zainon and our senior, Praveen for coordinating the dance moves. Without them, this play wouldn't have happened.
As for actors and actresses, let's hope that the next time I see you, I won't have to drag you into PG2 again.
P.S.: This post was created 2 days ago and was set to auto-post. I did this because I knew I'd be busy with the Theatre. And also because I knew you guys would succeed.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
The Birthday Grinch
I don't know about you guys, but every time when my birthday draws near, I'll have some kind of unsettling sensation in my stomach. Nervous. I think it's because I am trying to anticipate the surprises my family had in store for me. Not to mention the eggs and flour from my crazy friends. Thank God I don't get to celebrate my birthday in my hostel this semester. Photos of me covered in flour would certainly circulate around Facebook for weeks.
I loathe the awkward moment where you wake up in the morning of your birthday and get everyone in the house giving you 'Happy Birthday'. And also the moment where you're sitting like an idiot while waiting for your family and friends to finish up the 'Happy Birthday' song. Unfortunately, in my family tradition, they'll sing the song in Mandarin, English and Cantonese. So imagine that.
I don't really get birthdays, you know? It's just the day in which we were born. I don't do much awesome stuff so far in my life, never even changed the world one bit. Why should I 'celebrate' my birthday? And why the hell would I need presents for? People seems to exaggerate events. I wouldn't mind if somebody would give me presents, but giving others presents on their birthday makes me question the significance of that. (You can hate me now)
Aside from all that, I do appreciate birthday cakes.
And that will never change.
We do love our birthdays when we're kids
I loathe the awkward moment where you wake up in the morning of your birthday and get everyone in the house giving you 'Happy Birthday'. And also the moment where you're sitting like an idiot while waiting for your family and friends to finish up the 'Happy Birthday' song. Unfortunately, in my family tradition, they'll sing the song in Mandarin, English and Cantonese. So imagine that.
I don't really get birthdays, you know? It's just the day in which we were born. I don't do much awesome stuff so far in my life, never even changed the world one bit. Why should I 'celebrate' my birthday? And why the hell would I need presents for? People seems to exaggerate events. I wouldn't mind if somebody would give me presents, but giving others presents on their birthday makes me question the significance of that. (You can hate me now)
Aside from all that, I do appreciate birthday cakes.
And that will never change.
We do love our birthdays when we're kids
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
The Bad Photo
My right brain (The creative side) is set to overdrive lately. Projects and ideas are coming in and out of my head. Two days ago I was setting up my tripod and my camera for the project "In Death We Embrace". In this photo, I will include myself and a girl, dancing passionately with a knife in my hand.
I couldn't seem to get the 'dancing passionately' right. Because the female model was my sister. Imagine trying to act as a lover to your own sister.
Shots after shots were taken. The angle was right, the aperture was right. The only problem with the photo is emotions. I don't have emotions.
It finally occurs to me that I do need a lover. I need a soulmate whom I can disagree to the world with. The photo taken were never meant to be published. The project was scrapped.
Everyone need to open themselves to romance perhaps?
Do I sound desperate?
I couldn't seem to get the 'dancing passionately' right. Because the female model was my sister. Imagine trying to act as a lover to your own sister.
Shots after shots were taken. The angle was right, the aperture was right. The only problem with the photo is emotions. I don't have emotions.
It finally occurs to me that I do need a lover. I need a soulmate whom I can disagree to the world with. The photo taken were never meant to be published. The project was scrapped.
Everyone need to open themselves to romance perhaps?
Do I sound desperate?
Monday, August 30, 2010
Black & White Contest
Description: My entry for the Photography Contest by CreativeHeart. Let the beauty of simplicity wins. =)
To my readers, I have a favor to ask. The name below must join this contest too:
1) ToM KiDDo
2)Nana Fedrin
3)Ahmad Faiz Mohd
The winner gets Ka-Ching. For more information, look at the sidebar.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Whenever Rain Comes, Someone Dies
I woke up from drips of water that landed on my face. It was raining outside my window. I sat on the bed for a long time, rubbing away my sleepy face. Next to me is my laptop, and no one else was there. My friends were gone to enjoy their weekend of mid-term break. I stared around my hostel room and realized it was already dark, provided that it's still 3.30 PM.
Then I realized something else. Would it be like the horror movies: Whenever rain comes, someone dies? Is there someone hiding in my closet? Is it even human?
I prayed, and I prayed, hoping the rain will go away. I hope my parents would come fetch me earlier than any other day.
I would be a complete idiot if I turn on the lights since it's still noon. But it was already dark, and my manliness is at stake. I would laugh at myself for turning on the lights at 3.30 PM.
But today is a big exception. Today is Friday the 13th.
One push of my finger and the light is on.
P.S: I haven't open my closet yet.
Then I realized something else. Would it be like the horror movies: Whenever rain comes, someone dies? Is there someone hiding in my closet? Is it even human?
I prayed, and I prayed, hoping the rain will go away. I hope my parents would come fetch me earlier than any other day.
I would be a complete idiot if I turn on the lights since it's still noon. But it was already dark, and my manliness is at stake. I would laugh at myself for turning on the lights at 3.30 PM.
But today is a big exception. Today is Friday the 13th.
One push of my finger and the light is on.
P.S: I haven't open my closet yet.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
The Cockroach Hunter
I'm coined as 'cockroach hunter' in my cockroach-infested hostel. Yeah, my friends respect me for my cockroach killing methods. They can wake me up from my afternoon slumber just to hunt a baby cockroach running around in their room.
On one unfortunate night, I hunted down 3 or 4 cockroaches in half an hour. So I tried to find out where is the source of those cockroaches, they should have a 'home' somewhere, right? I figured it to be a large gaping hole above my housemate's bed. Imagine sleeping there and suddenly a cockroach flew down, landing in your mouth. How awesome is that?
I decided to save my friend's life, so I went up the bed with a bug spray. What would you do if you saw a cockroach standing idly by a hole and you were holding a bug spray that time? Spray it! And so I sprayed, and sounds of banging and scratching was heard in that hole, as if there are another giant cockroach in it. Before finding out what was it, I jumped down from the bed and crashed my head on the rack by accident but because of sudden rush of adrenaline, I feel no pain at all. My housemates were running for their lives because they were sitting in that room. One of my housemates even closed the door on another friend because whatever it is, it won't come out to find us. Only the poor guy in that room will suffer.
After things settled down, my friends opened the door to check out what happened in that room. There were feathers all over, so I figured that a pigeon misunderstood my spray as a hiss of -you know- snakes? The worst part is, the pigeon did not land down properly. It hit the fan before crash landing to the floor. The pigeon is still moving, but there were stomach all over under my friend's bed.
It was sad knowing that one of us have to perform a 'coup de grace' on that little bird. My friend carried the bird and put him down next to the surau, with hope that the pigeon will die a natural death. Why the surau, you ask? Because the area in surau is empty and there's no people passing by there. You wouldn't want other mischievious human to harm that poor little bird. After we cleaned up the blood pile in the room, I saw the little cockroach, still kicking the air.
I took up my friend's sneaker, and gave the cockroach a final blow.
On one unfortunate night, I hunted down 3 or 4 cockroaches in half an hour. So I tried to find out where is the source of those cockroaches, they should have a 'home' somewhere, right? I figured it to be a large gaping hole above my housemate's bed. Imagine sleeping there and suddenly a cockroach flew down, landing in your mouth. How awesome is that?
I decided to save my friend's life, so I went up the bed with a bug spray. What would you do if you saw a cockroach standing idly by a hole and you were holding a bug spray that time? Spray it! And so I sprayed, and sounds of banging and scratching was heard in that hole, as if there are another giant cockroach in it. Before finding out what was it, I jumped down from the bed and crashed my head on the rack by accident but because of sudden rush of adrenaline, I feel no pain at all. My housemates were running for their lives because they were sitting in that room. One of my housemates even closed the door on another friend because whatever it is, it won't come out to find us. Only the poor guy in that room will suffer.
After things settled down, my friends opened the door to check out what happened in that room. There were feathers all over, so I figured that a pigeon misunderstood my spray as a hiss of -you know- snakes? The worst part is, the pigeon did not land down properly. It hit the fan before crash landing to the floor. The pigeon is still moving, but there were stomach all over under my friend's bed.
It was sad knowing that one of us have to perform a 'coup de grace' on that little bird. My friend carried the bird and put him down next to the surau, with hope that the pigeon will die a natural death. Why the surau, you ask? Because the area in surau is empty and there's no people passing by there. You wouldn't want other mischievious human to harm that poor little bird. After we cleaned up the blood pile in the room, I saw the little cockroach, still kicking the air.
I took up my friend's sneaker, and gave the cockroach a final blow.
Monday, June 28, 2010
The 'Chinese' In Me
Gosh, it's so hard for me to be recognized as Chinese people these days. When I entered a store, usually a Chinese promoter would ask me, "nak cari apa bang?" Do I look not Chinese enough, or do they need me to wear a T-shirt saying: "I'm a Chinese!"?
I've even tried to make this 'masquerade' to a better use, like when I'm purchasing something from Low Yat. It's fun to catch some sellers trying to hide some bargains, or perhaps when they're discussing about selling me a rip-off. I saved most of my friend's life from purchasing crap items from Chinese sellers because I eavesdropped on their discussions.
I know I studied in Sekolah Kebangsaan, and I'm rich with cultures of Malay and Indians; but I don't think it will change my Chinese looks.
To make things worse, I'd make a crappy first impression when I'm trying to pick up Chinese chicks. It's not that I've tried that, but I can tell from their looks. Makes me wonder whether I'll be marrying a Chinese girl or not.
To my relief, recently a guy finally spoke to me in Cantonese in a shop. I ended up purchasing something from his store for the sake that he recognized my Chinese looks.
How can I make myself to look more 'Chinese'? Don't enlighten me about the 'eyes' stuff. Tried that and it's not working.
On second thought, I'm proud for my multicultural background. I fulfiled the 1Malaysia agenda!
Making my Chinese Face
I've even tried to make this 'masquerade' to a better use, like when I'm purchasing something from Low Yat. It's fun to catch some sellers trying to hide some bargains, or perhaps when they're discussing about selling me a rip-off. I saved most of my friend's life from purchasing crap items from Chinese sellers because I eavesdropped on their discussions.
I know I studied in Sekolah Kebangsaan, and I'm rich with cultures of Malay and Indians; but I don't think it will change my Chinese looks.
To make things worse, I'd make a crappy first impression when I'm trying to pick up Chinese chicks. It's not that I've tried that, but I can tell from their looks. Makes me wonder whether I'll be marrying a Chinese girl or not.
To my relief, recently a guy finally spoke to me in Cantonese in a shop. I ended up purchasing something from his store for the sake that he recognized my Chinese looks.
How can I make myself to look more 'Chinese'? Don't enlighten me about the 'eyes' stuff. Tried that and it's not working.
On second thought, I'm proud for my multicultural background. I fulfiled the 1Malaysia agenda!
Making my Chinese Face
Thursday, May 6, 2010
The Most Memorable Dream Ever
I was standing beside a girl whom I don't even know who she was. Beyond us was a landscape worth going to when you are dating someone. There was a few moments of silence, before one of us broke it.
"Our life might end tonight. But will you still be my wife in the next life?" I finally said, as if I can predict what would happen next that will claim our life.
"Of course, darling. I will be waiting for you in the next life." She said, smiling at me.
I tried hard to remember her face before the dream fades. Then I woke up.
I failed to remember any other details that night. This would be the story I will tell on my wedding day.
"Our life might end tonight. But will you still be my wife in the next life?" I finally said, as if I can predict what would happen next that will claim our life.
"Of course, darling. I will be waiting for you in the next life." She said, smiling at me.
I tried hard to remember her face before the dream fades. Then I woke up.
I failed to remember any other details that night. This would be the story I will tell on my wedding day.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Not Sincere Enough
I was completely caught in a middle of a date. Or I should just say meeting. Spending 30 minutes waiting for her to make the right selection of things she's going to buy? I just don't get it. Guys dress up and talk like a freak to impress the opposite sex, just to spend time with them in a shopping mall? Despite the absurdity, I find myself scoring a date with someone. We went shopping together, I made her laugh and she made me laugh. We had dinner together. It doesn't take a candlelight dinner to tell that we're dating.
I had to admit that I'm a gentleman too. I took her all the way to the clinic when she said she's not feeling too well. Make no mistake, it's not a car I'm using, we went there by foot. All the while we're walking, we exchange small talks and jokes; laughing all the way to the clinic. It took us 30 minutes to get to the clinic, yet spending just 5 minutes for checkup. By the time we're through, we realized that the time had almost hit curfew. We had to literally small-jog back to the apartment so that the guard won't close the gate on us.
It is too typical when the girl says, "Thanks, I had fun" at the end of a date. And I'm in for a typical date. Sacrificing another 10 minutes of my curfew countdown, I accompanied her to the apartment so that I can be sure that she's safe.
Somehow, I think romance is overrated. Or am I not sincere enough?
I had to admit that I'm a gentleman too. I took her all the way to the clinic when she said she's not feeling too well. Make no mistake, it's not a car I'm using, we went there by foot. All the while we're walking, we exchange small talks and jokes; laughing all the way to the clinic. It took us 30 minutes to get to the clinic, yet spending just 5 minutes for checkup. By the time we're through, we realized that the time had almost hit curfew. We had to literally small-jog back to the apartment so that the guard won't close the gate on us.
It is too typical when the girl says, "Thanks, I had fun" at the end of a date. And I'm in for a typical date. Sacrificing another 10 minutes of my curfew countdown, I accompanied her to the apartment so that I can be sure that she's safe.
Somehow, I think romance is overrated. Or am I not sincere enough?
Friday, February 12, 2010
Omens (CNY Specials)
You know, most Chinese people believe in omens and superstitions. They almost made it came true just by believing in it. Well, definitely not me. Especially in pre-Chinese New Year period, everything you dreamt about is the one you should believe in.
Lately, I dreamt that I've become somewhat of a God of Wealth. Everywhere I go, there's gonna be people asking me for ang pau. I kept on saying that I have no money, my PTPTN loan haven't even come out yet! What a pathetic God of Wealth. I even took an oath to myself, for the next person asking me for ang pau, I'll start throwing punches.
Right after I woke up, I thought about my dream for a while. Every sorts of crazy ideas came barging into my skull. What if I am the assigned God of Wealth for this year? And the God of Wealth that all Chinese are waiting for haven't even got his PTPTN loan yet. Now that's some dramatic crap to write about in your movie manuscript.
Does that mean I will bring poverty to all Chinese people this year? Wow, I have a creative mind. And while I'm drinking green tea at my breakfast (Yeah, I'm on diet), I thought that I won't provide wealth to others if I should be the God of Wealth. I'll provide forgiveness and mercy to everyone that needs it. Now don't you go calling me the Goddess of Mercy as in Kuan Yin. It doesn't take a goddess to forgive others. Besides, aren't that the purpose of festive celebrations?
On second thought, I would definitely trade the God of Wealth job with being a boyfriend this year. Somehow, it beats being someone who gives out wealth to others.
Happy Chinese New Year.
Monday, January 11, 2010
Kids
I'm pretty sure everyone likes babies and little kids. Everybody wants to have babies when they are married. I don't get it. It's an overrated lifestyle to love kids. It's not that I hate them, but I can't stand tantrums. I don't like meeting their requirements like serving a king. I'm pretty much egoic, I know that.
Few weeks ago, I went to Pangkor Island with my family for vacation. I have no sea sickness, I'm so sure that I won't be troubled when I'm aboard on the ship. But there were something - someone- that really could make me puke my guts out. The TV I was watching were blocked by a little kid. She thought the stage were used for a concert, she climbed and jumped around like it was her ship. That's when I asked my dad for Clorets and a plastic bag. Half an hour before arriving, she started throwing tantrums. She screamed like a freaking banshee. You can imagine that kind of voice when you're in the ship. Won't you puke?
My mother tried to console her by giving her sweets. As a sidenote, don't receive sweets from strangers. That made her cried even more. When my mom returned to her place, I said , "Come on mom, let's not make the matters worst. My stomach are already acting up." To make matters worse, her parents were trying to 'scare' her to submission, by saying that if she won't shut up, a swordfish will come out and attack her. Bad parenting skills.
It was a living hell for someone who wants to take a vacation. After half an hour, we had finally arrived. It sure feels like two hours though. As I went out from the ship, I made a silent prayer. Please don't let me have kids like this in the future.
The funny part is, all kids behaves like this. Like me.
My neighbour's daughter. Perhaps the only kid I don't feel like burning though.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
"Ahhh... Some Peace"
I do have a busy life. Now don't tell me that I'm the only freak here, alright? Currently, I have 3 big assignments in my 'academic list', and I have 2 books to finish in my 'reads list'. Life's crap, I guess?
Usually, one quick smoke sets me free. But lately, I think I've messed up my lungs; it would be wise to stop smoking. Ahhh... No peace for me.
Few midnight oils burnt, and now I'm completely nocturnal. I can't even get a good night sleep, despite all the troubles I'm having now. Peace, where shall I find you?
Just in case you are wondering what I'm doing right now, at around 1.50 in the morning (midnight?)
I'm sitting somewhere in my room, listening to jazz music, drinking some expensive coffee I took from my older nephew's cabinet. I'm looking outside the streets, somehow feeling kinda tranquil. Ahhh.... Some peace. At last.
Usually, one quick smoke sets me free. But lately, I think I've messed up my lungs; it would be wise to stop smoking. Ahhh... No peace for me.
Few midnight oils burnt, and now I'm completely nocturnal. I can't even get a good night sleep, despite all the troubles I'm having now. Peace, where shall I find you?
Just in case you are wondering what I'm doing right now, at around 1.50 in the morning (midnight?)
I'm sitting somewhere in my room, listening to jazz music, drinking some expensive coffee I took from my older nephew's cabinet. I'm looking outside the streets, somehow feeling kinda tranquil. Ahhh.... Some peace. At last.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Little Specky
It is sometimes fun to relate stories about Little Specky to my friends. And from what I see, they enjoyed listening to me too. This is what friendship is about, right? We share our stories.
Specky is a girl that I once fell in love with in high school. I was inspired to call her this based on her spectacles. Before I move on, I want some of you from my high school to stop smart-guessing about who she really is. There are more than hundreds of students wearing glasses in my school.
When I first met her, I was totally attracted to her active and outgoing personality. Not many girls that I know have this kind of personality. Most girls are just too prima donna and emotional. Little Specky have totally changed my perception on love and girls. It got me thinking about her 15 hours a day. Like what Dottie had mentioned in my previous entry, I've become 'angau'. I fell in love.
My friends were bored to listen to my preaching about how good she really is. I was in the same 'club' with her in my school, which makes me easier to approach and know her. And my trouble had gone deeper each day. She possessed a habit to say 'hi' as loud as you can expect whenever she saw me walking by the school corridors, which made me blush as what my friends say I am. And they often tried to insinuate to her that I am hiding somewhere near her. So much for being good friends with them. There were once when she played 'hide and seek' with me in the school corridors just to say 'hi'. Ah, the good old days. Just too sweet to forget.
It is then when I said to my friends that I had given up on her because I'm a realist. There's no way a guy like me could make her love me. Despite what her attitude she had shown to me, I admit I have low confidence in a thing called love.
After I finished my SPM, I vowed not to keep in touch with her anymore. My friend had once said, "you've got the green light, but you just won't move your car, isn't it?"
Whenever I have the mood to become active and outgoing, it reminds me of her.
Specky is a girl that I once fell in love with in high school. I was inspired to call her this based on her spectacles. Before I move on, I want some of you from my high school to stop smart-guessing about who she really is. There are more than hundreds of students wearing glasses in my school.
When I first met her, I was totally attracted to her active and outgoing personality. Not many girls that I know have this kind of personality. Most girls are just too prima donna and emotional. Little Specky have totally changed my perception on love and girls. It got me thinking about her 15 hours a day. Like what Dottie had mentioned in my previous entry, I've become 'angau'. I fell in love.
My friends were bored to listen to my preaching about how good she really is. I was in the same 'club' with her in my school, which makes me easier to approach and know her. And my trouble had gone deeper each day. She possessed a habit to say 'hi' as loud as you can expect whenever she saw me walking by the school corridors, which made me blush as what my friends say I am. And they often tried to insinuate to her that I am hiding somewhere near her. So much for being good friends with them. There were once when she played 'hide and seek' with me in the school corridors just to say 'hi'. Ah, the good old days. Just too sweet to forget.
It is then when I said to my friends that I had given up on her because I'm a realist. There's no way a guy like me could make her love me. Despite what her attitude she had shown to me, I admit I have low confidence in a thing called love.
After I finished my SPM, I vowed not to keep in touch with her anymore. My friend had once said, "you've got the green light, but you just won't move your car, isn't it?"
Whenever I have the mood to become active and outgoing, it reminds me of her.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
The Day I Messed Up My Parents' Life
11th November.
Today marks the day that I've messed up my parents' life for the 19th year. Good for me.
The day I came to this earth, I made my dad walking back and forth in front of the hospital thinking about the way to pay my 'price'. It's not cheap, you know? The hospital fees. I made my mother cry, thinking about my fate. They are really poor that time. So my dad asked his boss for money, to advance his payroll so that he could bring me out. And my aunt, my grandmothers, and everyone that have a portion of the same blood with me, checked their purses to contribute some money to bring me out. I felt an aura of importance whenever my mom relate this story to me. I'd say that I'm a symbol of unity. Look at what my family and their friends did to give me life.
I'm officially 19 today, to think that my mom always relate 'bull-crap' stories to scare or gain my temporary submission, I'm now officially old enough not to fall for that anymore. I could become a rebel like any teenagers do these days. But yet, I can still love her. Well, I wonder why my parents would even think about having me, you know? Isn't it nice to live together as just 2 persons? I'm just important after all. Hahaha. What a joke.
For 19 years, I've made so much mess in this world. I messed up my friends, my blog readers, my siblings, my family. I just hope that, after my last birthday on this earth, all of you would cherish the mess that I've made in your life.
Thank you. That's the least I could say.
Today marks the day that I've messed up my parents' life for the 19th year. Good for me.
The day I came to this earth, I made my dad walking back and forth in front of the hospital thinking about the way to pay my 'price'. It's not cheap, you know? The hospital fees. I made my mother cry, thinking about my fate. They are really poor that time. So my dad asked his boss for money, to advance his payroll so that he could bring me out. And my aunt, my grandmothers, and everyone that have a portion of the same blood with me, checked their purses to contribute some money to bring me out. I felt an aura of importance whenever my mom relate this story to me. I'd say that I'm a symbol of unity. Look at what my family and their friends did to give me life.
I'm officially 19 today, to think that my mom always relate 'bull-crap' stories to scare or gain my temporary submission, I'm now officially old enough not to fall for that anymore. I could become a rebel like any teenagers do these days. But yet, I can still love her. Well, I wonder why my parents would even think about having me, you know? Isn't it nice to live together as just 2 persons? I'm just important after all. Hahaha. What a joke.
For 19 years, I've made so much mess in this world. I messed up my friends, my blog readers, my siblings, my family. I just hope that, after my last birthday on this earth, all of you would cherish the mess that I've made in your life.
Thank you. That's the least I could say.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
"Birds"
Flashing back to few weeks before my grandma's death; she spent her days on the couch, looking out from the windows. She would notice everything that the birds outside are doing.
Strangely enough, she usually sat in front of her TV to watch her seemingly never-ending Chinese drama series. Beats me. She would rather spend her days looking at those birds. How boring. Most of these 'bird-watching' sessions are split with lunch and dinner. After that, she'll continue watching those birds.
Just as the Maghrib were called, the birds would return to their nests, resting under the shades of nearby trees. How graceful they sang when they return home. My grandma were delighted just to listen to the choirs of the birds. She would tell my aunt how delightful it is to listen to their melodies after a nice dinner.
This goes on for weeks. The birds never failed to present their melodies to my grandma.
Until one day.
She passed away. We were sad, for she was so dear to her family and friends. None of us would expect that.
Few days later when we returned from our hometown after laying grandma to rest, my aunt noticed something the moment she was picking up everything grandma had left for us.
Call it a miracle, call it coincidence. But after the passing of my grandma, the birds never sing again. It seems that the moment the loyal fan that watches them sing was gone, their piece of melody died with her.
Their melodies stopped along with my grandma's heartbeat.
Strangely enough, she usually sat in front of her TV to watch her seemingly never-ending Chinese drama series. Beats me. She would rather spend her days looking at those birds. How boring. Most of these 'bird-watching' sessions are split with lunch and dinner. After that, she'll continue watching those birds.
Just as the Maghrib were called, the birds would return to their nests, resting under the shades of nearby trees. How graceful they sang when they return home. My grandma were delighted just to listen to the choirs of the birds. She would tell my aunt how delightful it is to listen to their melodies after a nice dinner.
This goes on for weeks. The birds never failed to present their melodies to my grandma.
Until one day.
She passed away. We were sad, for she was so dear to her family and friends. None of us would expect that.
Few days later when we returned from our hometown after laying grandma to rest, my aunt noticed something the moment she was picking up everything grandma had left for us.
Call it a miracle, call it coincidence. But after the passing of my grandma, the birds never sing again. It seems that the moment the loyal fan that watches them sing was gone, their piece of melody died with her.
Their melodies stopped along with my grandma's heartbeat.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Terrorised
It was tonight when my dad brought our whole family back to our hometown to celebrate Mooncake Festival.
The catch is, 45 minutes before arriving, my dad encountered a motorcycle accident - which I suspected to be the Mat Rempits' race. Three motorcycles fallen at once before my dad took the corner. It did scared the crap out of us but my dad seems to be able to keep his cool by avoiding the people that lied in his way. Most unfortunately, he dodged a living human just to crash onto his motorcycle.
The bike was completely crushed, while the lower part of our car were damaged. Just before my dad think about asking them for compensation, the mat-rempits started to make aggresive moves. From what I recall, the guy whom my dad had saved his life sped away on another motorcycle, leaving behind his buddies to do the blackmailing.
Note that the road we were on were rural, so it's really hard to stop a passer-by for help. The lowlifes started to bring a big metal stick and approached our car. Hell yeah we were panicked. They demanded my dad to come out to 'negotiate' for the damage he 'had done'. I was learning that a brute don't give a crap about reasoning with you even if he is wrong, so don't bother debating with this kind of dumbasses. It is now what I perceive to be the exhibition of strength.
Of course, my dad alone couldn't handle the incoming 'reinforcements'. We were surrounded by motorcycles and cheap cars belonging to the opposition.
My mom was the most panicked living person in our car that time. I'm not sure how many times had she called my uncles to come to where we were in 5 minutes time. Even in that kind of situation, I find myself laughing at her. She almost cried out of fear that they may beat the crap out of my dad, which I think they won't have the guts to do that. The whole family remembered their plate numbers, and by the way, my 'gangster' uncles were on their way.
I kept track of my dad from the backseat, informing my mom every second that they haven't start beating dad yet.
After a few minutes that seems to take forever, the roads were bright with the headlights of my uncles. They brought at least 5 cars of men. Wow. They arrived like chariots in the midst of a losing battle, which reminded me of the part in LOTR where Gandalf charged from the canyon.
Kids will always be kids, no matter how tough they were advertising themselves as, they dropped their sticks the moment my uncles stepped out from the car. My uncles demanded them to settle this on the police station the civilized way.
I accompanied my brother and sister back to my grandmother's house in one of their cars while my parents and few of the uncles brought them to the police station.
At around 3 am, my parents were home. They told us that those rempits almost shit their pants after getting a scolding from the police, who threatened to throw them into jail for blackmailing. We had a good laugh, after being terrorised.
One of my uncles told me that, if they have already started beating dad when they arrive, they made an oath to make sure none of them will have a glimpse of tomorrow. And that's the punchline.
The catch is, 45 minutes before arriving, my dad encountered a motorcycle accident - which I suspected to be the Mat Rempits' race. Three motorcycles fallen at once before my dad took the corner. It did scared the crap out of us but my dad seems to be able to keep his cool by avoiding the people that lied in his way. Most unfortunately, he dodged a living human just to crash onto his motorcycle.
The bike was completely crushed, while the lower part of our car were damaged. Just before my dad think about asking them for compensation, the mat-rempits started to make aggresive moves. From what I recall, the guy whom my dad had saved his life sped away on another motorcycle, leaving behind his buddies to do the blackmailing.
Note that the road we were on were rural, so it's really hard to stop a passer-by for help. The lowlifes started to bring a big metal stick and approached our car. Hell yeah we were panicked. They demanded my dad to come out to 'negotiate' for the damage he 'had done'. I was learning that a brute don't give a crap about reasoning with you even if he is wrong, so don't bother debating with this kind of dumbasses. It is now what I perceive to be the exhibition of strength.
Of course, my dad alone couldn't handle the incoming 'reinforcements'. We were surrounded by motorcycles and cheap cars belonging to the opposition.
My mom was the most panicked living person in our car that time. I'm not sure how many times had she called my uncles to come to where we were in 5 minutes time. Even in that kind of situation, I find myself laughing at her. She almost cried out of fear that they may beat the crap out of my dad, which I think they won't have the guts to do that. The whole family remembered their plate numbers, and by the way, my 'gangster' uncles were on their way.
I kept track of my dad from the backseat, informing my mom every second that they haven't start beating dad yet.
After a few minutes that seems to take forever, the roads were bright with the headlights of my uncles. They brought at least 5 cars of men. Wow. They arrived like chariots in the midst of a losing battle, which reminded me of the part in LOTR where Gandalf charged from the canyon.
Kids will always be kids, no matter how tough they were advertising themselves as, they dropped their sticks the moment my uncles stepped out from the car. My uncles demanded them to settle this on the police station the civilized way.
I accompanied my brother and sister back to my grandmother's house in one of their cars while my parents and few of the uncles brought them to the police station.
At around 3 am, my parents were home. They told us that those rempits almost shit their pants after getting a scolding from the police, who threatened to throw them into jail for blackmailing. We had a good laugh, after being terrorised.
One of my uncles told me that, if they have already started beating dad when they arrive, they made an oath to make sure none of them will have a glimpse of tomorrow. And that's the punchline.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Grandpa Was A Soldier (Merdeka Day Special)
I remember, not long ago when I looked at the old photographs of my grandparents, I saw my grandfather holding a rifle. He's wearing the soldier outfit, with beret on his head. He looked really young, I wondered why my parents never told me that he's once a soldier.
"Oh, that photo. Took it 60 years ago." My grandma said, smiling as she looked at that photo. "You see, it's not really his choice to fight the Communists at first. But he is the leader of our village that time, so he wanted to protect our village from the Communists. He actually died proudly for our country."
"How did he die? Please tell me his story." I said.
The story sets in 1977, when Grandpa was retired. He owned an orchard and he sells the harvest to support the family. It was one day when he and my aunt who is 8 years old that time to gather their harvest of durians and other fruits for them to sell, he saw the sight of few strangers lurking behind the woods. Fearing that it might be the communists, he asked my aunt to hide behind his truck.
Being my old grandpa, reckless and do not fear anything, he went on to confront the communists. He was not armed at the time, but it took plenty of bullets to actually bring him down. The communists restrained him, and tried to persuade, if not force him to join their ranks. If my grandpa, as the leader of the whole village, becomes one of them, the Min Yuen operation would be really easy. Grandpa stared at them in the eyes, and spat on them.
"What do you know about patriotism, huh? I'm not the patriot that you wanted to convert. I just wanted to protect my village, my family." Grandpa shouted, his voice as loud as ever. "Rather than letting you kill my family, you should just kill me instead, and go home empty-handed. By the way, do you even have a family?"
One of the communists was furious, and he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit my grandpa straight on his head. His eyes could not be closed, glaring with vengeance. Grandpa's hand gripping one of the communists hand so tightly, even though he no longer draws breath.
Witnessing the slaughter, my aunt do what Grandpa had told her, run. So she escaped and told the whole village about this. The police were fast enough to react, and went to the orchard to begin the hunt. Grandpa's body was recovered, and buried in Taman Tehu not far away from the village.
Few weeks later, the communists were found. The police penetrated through their camp and arrested most of the survivors. The survivors were then tied up on a stick, symbolising the pigs, by the villagers. They were put under the sun to wait until they die of dehydration. But the damage is done, the death of their beloved leader could not be reversed.
Upon finishing this story, grandma shed her tears.
"He said that he wanted to protect the village, not mentioning about the country at all." She said. "Do you realize how a purpose so small could bring a result so big?"
I hugged my grandma and said, "perhaps he knew it all along, maybe he have too much ego to admit that he's responsible to protect the country."
~Dear Malaysia, Happy Birthday~
"Oh, that photo. Took it 60 years ago." My grandma said, smiling as she looked at that photo. "You see, it's not really his choice to fight the Communists at first. But he is the leader of our village that time, so he wanted to protect our village from the Communists. He actually died proudly for our country."
"How did he die? Please tell me his story." I said.
The story sets in 1977, when Grandpa was retired. He owned an orchard and he sells the harvest to support the family. It was one day when he and my aunt who is 8 years old that time to gather their harvest of durians and other fruits for them to sell, he saw the sight of few strangers lurking behind the woods. Fearing that it might be the communists, he asked my aunt to hide behind his truck.
Being my old grandpa, reckless and do not fear anything, he went on to confront the communists. He was not armed at the time, but it took plenty of bullets to actually bring him down. The communists restrained him, and tried to persuade, if not force him to join their ranks. If my grandpa, as the leader of the whole village, becomes one of them, the Min Yuen operation would be really easy. Grandpa stared at them in the eyes, and spat on them.
"What do you know about patriotism, huh? I'm not the patriot that you wanted to convert. I just wanted to protect my village, my family." Grandpa shouted, his voice as loud as ever. "Rather than letting you kill my family, you should just kill me instead, and go home empty-handed. By the way, do you even have a family?"
One of the communists was furious, and he pulled the trigger. The bullet hit my grandpa straight on his head. His eyes could not be closed, glaring with vengeance. Grandpa's hand gripping one of the communists hand so tightly, even though he no longer draws breath.
Witnessing the slaughter, my aunt do what Grandpa had told her, run. So she escaped and told the whole village about this. The police were fast enough to react, and went to the orchard to begin the hunt. Grandpa's body was recovered, and buried in Taman Tehu not far away from the village.
Few weeks later, the communists were found. The police penetrated through their camp and arrested most of the survivors. The survivors were then tied up on a stick, symbolising the pigs, by the villagers. They were put under the sun to wait until they die of dehydration. But the damage is done, the death of their beloved leader could not be reversed.
Upon finishing this story, grandma shed her tears.
"He said that he wanted to protect the village, not mentioning about the country at all." She said. "Do you realize how a purpose so small could bring a result so big?"
I hugged my grandma and said, "perhaps he knew it all along, maybe he have too much ego to admit that he's responsible to protect the country."
~Dear Malaysia, Happy Birthday~
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