unarmed and defensive

Intelligence Quotient

2007-10-24T21:55:00.000+13:00

Professor Milton Osborne, whose credentials among the Southeast Asian and Australasian academic and diplomatic community are too many to list, was representing the Lowy Institute of International Studies when he visited Auckland to chair an intimate session on China as a paramount power in Southeast Asian relations. As one of the hosts, we showed him around Auckland and my only duty was to walk him to the lecture theatre at the university, where I had promised him earlier I would attend.

Yes, friends, Ezra is now a little bit more aware of politics, no thanks to Rachel Chin and www.malaysiakini.com.

I was initially hesistant when I realised that there were far less people than I thought, sitting in a conference roundtable format. Academics, embassy representatives, researchers...a glorified office assistant (me). Still, it was an incredibly eye-opening 1.5 hour session where the only thing I got out of it (unfortunately I have A.D.D.) was that mindsets are certainly changing towards China, and the Chinese.

Inevitably, the Chinese diaspora popped up in relation to whether these communities (which of course are scattered all over SEA, Malaysia included) helped or hindered the course of host nation-China relationships. This was when the floor was open and a hand shot up from the front.

"Hello Professor, My name is Joe (name chosen because I honestly can't remember - my A.D.D). As a Malaysian Chinese do you think that the success of Chinese outside the mainland, who have been generations removed from the mainland, has helped build inroads for SEA nations tapping into China's economy? I mean that the children of Chinese migrants to SEA nations have grown to be quite successful and are now going back to China as investors and businesspeople and are now kindling inter-region trade..."

Now at this point I was quite curious about the "success" part. What success? For every Chinese migrant's great great grandchild who made it big in Malaysia, there are a hundred who have not and are still eking a living back in Malaysia. Some, like me, have not seen China yet and am just thanking my lucky stars to be able to be in NZ on a scholarship. I reckoned that he was talking about his own glorious account, and the account of his father, and his father's friends, or whoever they may be who broke the mold and afforded to start a new life here.

"...It's quite well-known that Chinese are an, eh, intelligent race. (Insert very small but audible audience groan, even from the Chinese). Take for example the recent Mathlympics (or something like that) in Singapore. NZ only took home a bronze while the Chinese from other SEA nations took home 12 golds. (Groans, definitely audible) Could this skill build bridges into China for the host nations?"

Look mate, I don't know about bridges but you're definitely tearing some down here.

I have to admit, I've never found it easy being who I am. Based on pure ethnicity, being a Malaysian Chinese brought up in a protestant home with Manglish-speaking parents isn't exactly your idea of "cultural". The constant straddling of two (or more) worlds is no one's walk in the park. I had to learn my Chinese roots by force - my folks, who could not speak a word of Mandarin, made me attend 11 years of Chinese school. 5 years on, that section of my mind has putrefied and I'm stringing together broken sentences like a 2-year-old. It's hard enough coming to terms with who you are in the world and your relationships with others without having someone with almost the exact same background coming around and pissing on everyone's toes.

Maybe that's the one thing that unites the Chinese diaspora. We will always be a selfish race. If this country isn't good enough for us, we migrate. If trouble brews, we migrate. "Remember to study hard, you must get into a private uni/college." "Aiyah, the ***** will always be this way. We must fight for our own rights." "Better get a PR (permanent residency), you never know when you might need it." We're better than you because we're smarter than you and that's why you hate us. "Don't hate us cuz we're beautiful/intelligent/rich."

We forget our roots. We forget Cheng Ho. We forget that Chinese diplomats absorbed, not propagated. They never flaunted. Somehow along the line we forget that without a country, we're nothing. Being Chinese doesn't mean that you're from China. And if you scorn the very countries that nurture you, what are we then? Even Taiwan knows the value of a nation. The Malaysian Chinese diaspora may well be the only community that still doesn't really identify with its host nation after generations - even if these same guys have hopped over to Australia, Canada and NZ.

I have a dear friend, very much Malaysian Chinese, who attributes his "American accent" to his years of living in Washington, DC. At least that's what he tells all the friends he's made here. He's never even been to the States.

Me, I blame my forced, half-baked accent on American TV and just a slight shame to be Malaysian Chinese.

Conversations with Cab Drivers

2007-10-24T21:05:00.001+13:00

I suppose it's my fault for not telling most of you that I've found a new job with the Asia NZ Foundation. Then again, it's my fault for not touching this for the longest time, but you should know that by now.

Anyhoo, the job's excellent, things are going great, the best part of it is that unlike my previous job, I get to travel. A lot, actually, since we're hosting the Auckland leg of the Diwali celebrations. By travel I mean from the airport to the city and vice versa, not to catch flights unfortunately, but to do a meet and greet. In that sense it's not all that different from my previous job as well, but then again, I finally get to see the blardy sun.

A very alien concept this: I don't own a car. This is practically unheard of among KL and Auckland urbanites. I do have a sheaf of taxi chits, and this is how I stumbled upon taxi drivers.

The wonderful people of the Auckland Co-Op Taxi company, which I use solely because they are everywhere, wield the power to make or break your day. Take the example of my first ride with them back from the airport. This time I was on my way back from Wellington, where I had met the team earlier, a couple weeks before I started on my new job. I was happy and excited and was telling the wooden wall about it for about 15 minutes before giving up. Then he overcharged me by $15. What an anticlimax to an otherwise glorious day being on an airplane twice in 12 hours. Still, that has been the only bad experience.

Rama, who drove me back from the airport after sending someone off, told me about how he spent his long weekend, where he took the kids, and how he was going to drive until 11 that night. "What about the kids?" I asked, to which he said, "They'll have had enough of me over the weekend, and me of them."

Kris, whose wife owns a trinket store, told me how he only moonlights as a taxi driver. "Sometimes I feel as though I'm my wife's unpaid employee." He did the Diwali celebrations in Manukau, manning the stall for hours and ran himself ragged there, and not to my surprise will be doing the one this weekend which I'm running myself ragged for. "See you this weekend," said I as I hopped out. "Unfortunately," said he, wearily. Hilarious.

Jim greeted me in front of the Auckland Museum with the perfect pronunciation of my name. I was surprised on two counts - one, that the operator got it right, and two, that Jim got it right, being a pakeha (NZ European). Now as much a Crown entity as NZ can claim heritage from, the Queen's English is in shocking disuse. Don't get me started on spelling. The other day I heard "hotting up" in a TV trailer. That's blardy national TV. Okay, "Ezra" isn't an English name per se but what about the Christian heritage?

Jim did have an unfair advantage. His alter ego was Jim the preacher, which he actually did to old folks at the Sunset Rest Home. Through the 15 minutes it took for us to beat the traffic back to the New President, he did a social commentary the likes I've never heard of in a long time. Persuasive but never pushy, he sounded more like the taxi driver who gets you to the right places in your mind instead of a pushy preacher. Not that he didn't lament about the lack of drive in the convictions of today, but he did so without prejudice and pall.

I actually walked out of that cab feeling like I just walked out of a church on Christmas morning.

The Story of C

2007-07-30T23:34:00.000+12:00

C: It's interesting to see how different the world can be between cultures. My lecturer had this anecdote about the war in Iraq. When some Japanese and Italians were held hostage, the reactions back home were worlds apart. The Italians went into a panic and were trying their best to get their people home. The Japanese refused to negotiate, even after threats and deadlines looming.

E: Why so?

C: It was all in the mentality of the whole versus individuality. As a generalisation, western culture values the individual. Personal life is sacred. On the other hand, the Japanese place greater emphasis on the whole, on the wellbeing of society in general. The action of one doesn't affect the individual but the whole. When the Italians were released, they were hailed as heroes. The Japanese however, were plastered across the papers as recklessly endangering the nation. Those released hostages were getting threats from their own countrymen in the mail.

E: I don't think there's a right or wrong way to look at it. It's just that our social and political mentality are inextricably linked with the way we were brought up in the society we come from. It's always shocking sometimes to live in a different land and realise that it's not just cultural norms, climate and food that we have to adapt to, but a whole different way of thinking.

C: When I first came here, it was the first time I had Taiwanese friends. In one class I had a couple of friends from China, and another from Taiwan. When it came to introducing ourselves, after the latter told the class that she was from Taiwan, one of the Chinese girls stood up, smacked the desk and shouted, "You mean China! Why is Taiwan separate?" It was quite an outburst, although I have to admit that for a long time whenever someone said they were from Taiwan I had that same urge too.

E: You don't now?

C: Not really. It's only when you realise that the Taiwanese grew up knowing they were right, and I was brought up knowing that I was right, that this underlying contradiction makes a bit more sense. It must be quite a struggle trying to find your identity in the world when no one wants to admit you exist.

E: Yes, I've realised that. It's only when you go somewhere else do you start to see your own country in a neutral light, with all its flaws, things you knew but somehow didn't see before.

C: It's a bit like seeing some of the kids here who were sent here by their rich Shanghai parents. The wantonness of their lives here can sometimes be a bit disturbing, especially when there are still many living sub-standardly back home. Progress will be the answer - only when everyone reaches that same level of living.

E: Isn't understanding the answer instead? Look at us - we don't fit into that stereotype, but we are far from the minority where we come from. I just hope that things will be better a couple generations from now, maybe when our grandchildren are a different shade of yellow, or maybe when the world turns a faded sort of brown. After everything you've seen, do you still want go home?

C: Of course, I'd never give it up for the world. For all its flaws, that's where family is. I find it difficult to give up something I've believed in for so long.

E: I suppose then, that some things are worth fighting for.

A Friend in High Places

2006-09-11T15:27:00.000+12:00

Consider the following coversation on MSN, with a person who has yet to identify himself.

my new subaru says:
i think i know you
ezra says:
you do?
ezra says:
pray tell how you do
my new subaru says:
through Jesus
ezra says:
wow
ezra says:
and what did He tell you about me?
my new subaru says:
seriously..i have no clue..

You'll never guess...

2006-08-24T13:34:00.000+12:00

...what I used to make this.

Half Sky Hanging

2006-08-17T18:08:00.000+12:00

I've just realised who I am.

I speak a few languages but not perfect at any.
I'm not the shortest among my peers but I'm not standing tall at 5'7" either.
I don't stutter but I do mumble.
I'm smart but I'm not wise.
I know my way around Photoshop but I don't know what CSS is.
I have answers to problems but none to mine.
I started out loving science but haven't touched a calculator in years.
I have the gift of gab but lose it around an employer or a pretty girl.
People laugh at me, not with me. At least I make people laugh?!
I'm a nerd who once got pissed drunk on a regular basis.
I play the drums better than my friends, but never good enough to land a recording contract.
I taught guitar for two years but I cannot play a guitar solo.
I excel at school probably to end up slaving behind a cubicle.

I think of the wittiest things to say but never remember enough to write them down.

I am mediocre.

Sarcasm

2006-04-08T13:43:00.000+12:00

I've realised that the reason I don't blog much is that I'm too busy living life to write about it.

It's not like I have the time to sit down and pehey yoou know wat i gotta run

The Yodeling Fish

2006-03-12T10:18:00.000+13:00

Some of you may now be aware of my Multiply site, and the songs I put up on it. I've had many people say different things about it, but mostly the question the most people ask is "why do you do it?"

Frankly, I don't really know.

So for the lack of inspired writing, seeing I lack life experiences, wit, and a general sense of humour, I've decided to make this blog post a dissertation of why I can't stop recording and posting songs, a practice almost as annoying as my tendency to link every single damn site.

Let's just go back in time a little, just for some context. I used to be (and still am) not a normal boy. No, I didn't like wearing my sister's dresses, not like she had any to begin with. What made me different was my sheer lack of any sporting ability whatsoever. Yeah, sure I played badminton for a while, but when one thinks of it, it's a damn lame game. Go on, name a famous shuttler. Or is it shuttlecocker? See?

Anyway, while every other boy shot hoops or scored goals, I was always left behind, poor boy, catching fish from drains. Until I discovered my dad's guitar. I remember waking up early one Saturday morning when I was 11 to catch the cartoons with a huge bowl of cereal. As I sneaked down the stairs, I glimpsed at my dad's guitar. Being the curious George I was, I tried holding chords and banging the strings. That's when my dad came down. The first thing he said was, "You wanna learn that?" I nodded. The very next day he threw me a chordbook and taught me my first three chords - A, D and E. I played "Guantanamera" for a month.

By the time I hit high school, I had a little arsenal of chords, both in major and minor keys - even 7ths, which then to me was "jazz". I covered everything from Deep Blue Something to Michael Learns to Rock. Goo Goo Dolls and Jason Lo were the gods I worshipped. And while the guys grew muscles and scored with the ladies, I sat in my room, night after night, yodeling til the neighbours threw bricks and cats howled. When I discovered plucking, I'd play Jars of Clay's Frail with the lights turned off until I literally fell asleep with my fingers still moving. That guitar became my life.

I drooled over a black acoustic electric for two and a half years, and every time I passed by the window of Ipoh's most rip-off guitar shop I'd stop to drool at it. I own it now, a black beauty which I've used for countless performances, and still do for all my songs. Did I tell you I sold my body to get that? That's a story I'll only tell if you ask me. But I digress.

Fast forward a few more years, and Ezra's in college, still annoying the shit out of his roommates and housemates not only because he still wails instead of sings, but he's also acquired (HORROR!) an electric guitar. It's around this time that I started playing around with the Windows recording tool. Sitting at a little bistro having lunch with Seng Hean and Danny, I saw Damien Rice playing Cannonball on MTV. I loved it. And quite spontaneously, I recorded myself singing and playing that song, which I then turned into an MP3.

One day, I sent that file on a lark to a friend. She couldn't believe it was me. Yes, yes I sound much worse when I sing but I thought it interesting that she asked how I got two guitars playing at the same time. Fact is, I didn't, it was one all along, but I was quite flattered I fooled someone into thinking that I was good at it. Which got me thinking - what if I really did play two guitars? All those times I screeched out the solo while strumming, what if I could actually do it? I got so excited I went searching for a mixing tool - and found it in Mixcraft, a basic multi-track program that allows you to layer one sound over the other, and add effects to each to boot.

I went on a recording frenzy, starting with Disagree's Crumbs' guitar solo. I couldn't stop feeling amazed that those beautiful melodies were actually all me. You could call it narcissistic, and it was. It's when you discover how well tuna goes with onions and tomato, or sand and buttcracks, or ah bengs and tight shirts...it was a revelation. I didn't know I could hear two of myself playing at the same time. The last time I felt that way was when Ah Meng and I duelled the outro of Oasis' Don't Go Away at 10:00PM outside the school library. Beautiful. I felt the same perfect duality as Dave Murray and Adrian Smith as they ease sweet dual leads in Iron Maiden, or when Britney got preggie with Kevin's baby and went on to shoot that corny perfume ad.

Fast forward almost a year on, I'm toying around with more effects, and a new drum program. All with the same guitar, albeit a new webchat mic and an undoubtedly worse voice. Go see it all in March.

Over the Brink Again

2006-02-26T09:47:00.000+13:00

Too much has happened since the last post of mine. The more I live, the more I'm lost. Maybe not so much of losing who I am as losing track of time. Mostly I feel as though I'm looking from the outside in, running parallel to but not completely on the tracks of my existence.

Before summer started, I told myself that this is finally the chance to do something for myself. Stuff that I've always wanted to do. Little things like blogging (on a regular basis that is, if only for the sake of friends and fiends), learning to type, learning how to do guitar solos, running to One Tree Hill and back, growing some biceps (don't laugh!), learning a new accent, painting something... Stuff that since I was alone, I'd thought I'd treat myself to.

But somehow, summer life was just a whole routine of waking up, going to work, coming back home, flopping on the couch, stuffing myself with beer and pizza and falling asleep, the fat lazy ass I was. Losing a whole year.

Now the new year has come and gone, new milestones I never knew I'd reach. No new year's resolutions for me - I always break them, though somehow I do feel a little bit stronger, a little bit wiser, a little bit more mature than I was yesterday. Danny always told me that I wouldn't last more than 3 months with her - we passed the 2-year mark a couple of weeks ago. I never thought I'd ever have the chance to go overseas - and here I am, an Ipoh kampung boy, 8500km from home, truly alone for the first time in my life. It still amazes me how fast time flies, and how the world is really all the same from a particular perspective.

Emotional rollercoasters abound during the summer period. I wasn't denied reprieve. It's a paradox, the human psyche. How we love to torture ourselves with pain for pleasure. How we find beauty in ugliness, and despise the pure. To live a simple life would be to deny oneself of one's own existence. And only in the fragile, yet barbed bonds we weave do we find solace in the simple company of another human being. So beautiful, so complicated. And the only reason I'm talking in metaphors is because I have no wish to be more explicit. You should know what I mean. We've all been there.

I suppose then, that the only thing I've learned over the summer was how human I am. And human I will be - procrastinating, vulnerable, growing me. Special just like everyone else.

IACT Poster Boy

2006-01-19T08:46:00.000+13:00

I have to be frank. I am more than obligated to what I deem the best marketing communications college ever. This is blatantly biased, but when someone gives you RM 66,000 worth of scholarships one must feel more than gratitude. Servitude comes to mind. And to think I'm not even bound to them upon completion of my degree.

"How then," you may say, "do you show them your gratitude?" Simple. Indulge them for photos, interviews, and other publicity stunts. Do your goddamn best in your studies. And of course, be a good ambassador. The latter was not particularly easy, since one does not go around soliciting for potential students. That is plain bad form in marketing, akin to cold-calling. Nevertheless, I was quite surprised when a certain young lady asked me about her impending tertiary education path. This is the conversation that took place on Multiply, over the course of a few days, unedited and unabridged. Just to prove I AM doing my bit for the glory of IACT :P

_______________________________________________________________________

hello poster boy for IACT :),

do you usually entertain questions regarding the field of mass comm / advertising from very lost post-secondary school girls who need to make huge decisions about college but dont really know where to start? :D

sincerely,
lost post-secondary school girl

lowezra wrote on Jan 8

dear lost post-secondary school girl,

yes, i have to. it's all part of being an ambassador for IACT, which is what i'm morally obligated to do after accepting two scholarships worth RM65,000 from them.

bear in mind that surveys show that even tertiary education does not dictate what you'll become in the future, unless you're one of those braniacs who does medicine. so rest asssured that your choice of colleges/universities is not a final, conclusive choice that affects you for the rest of your life.

that aside, if you're interested in the field of mass comm/advertising, i believe you have huge potential after seeing what you did for your prom. mass comm is a very broad field most commonly mistaken for being the choice of high-school drop-outs, possibly only after the creative arts. it includes (and is not exhaustive of) broadcasting, marketing communications, promotions, production, event management, brand management, public relations, journalism, creative design, copywriting, business knowledge and international relations acumen...the list goes on.

what separates the mass comm ah bengs in TAR and the creme-de-la-creme is the will to succeed, a passion for effective communication, good people skills and of course, excellent english, a plus point which is your sharp advantage over many, many others.

if you do decide to pursue this path, your career choices are very wide indeed. employment can be found anywhere - every organisation needs people like you. the fact that i'm doing hotel management as a part-time job attests to that, marketing background notwithstanding.

yours,
poster boy for IACT

pinkpau wrote on Jan 8

dear poster boy,

thank you for your reply! it was most enlightening and for that i am grateful .. :D

do you know if it's possible to major in advertising and minor in psychology? and if a double major of aforementioned pairing is possible? i kept getting all sorts of weird reactions at the edu fair yesterday when i expressed my wish to pursue both mass comm and psych :( also, how about major advertising, minor psych, minor PR? or is that going to be just entirely unnecessary?

you were a recipient of the Star Education Fund scholarship, righty?

would you recommend a psychology major or a mass comm major?

the distraught,
lost secondary school girl

lowezra wrote on Jan 9

dear lost post-secondary school girl,

i've never heard of such a pairing before. granted, i've had my options open for psychology, me being a ardent fan of the human psyche, but i've found that that's completely unneccessary especially after going through 3 years in IACT's marketing communications program. (they did have consumer behaviour and media, society and psychology as subjects but that's not the point.)

what happens when you do mass comm is that you get an insight into the consumer mind, which is what usually happens in the brainspace of the modern human anyway. what you get in psychology is a very fancy degree and lots of very (literally) disturbing clients.

i'm not undermining psychology, but it is my opinion that you can learn psychology yourself whereas there's a goldmine of knowledge buried deep within mass comm. the trick is to find yourself a good college/uni which teaches you the right shit.

i am a receipient of the Star scholarship, and a reciepient of the tunku jaafar memorial scholarship offered by IACT which gave me the moolah to come here in the first place.

at the end of the day, i'm drunk and it's up to you to decide. trust me, you know enough of the human psyche.

yours,
poster boy

pinkpau wrote on Jan 9

dear poster boy,

okie so which would make a better minor, psychology or PR? or something else altogether like journalism?

argh so torn!

was the Star scholarship tough to obtain? am thinking of applying .. :)

also, thanks so much for all the advice thus far, poster boy! :)

post sec school girl

lowezra wrote on Jan 11

dear post-secondary school girl,

journalism goes very well with PR. in fact, these two are sworn arch-enemies, or the yin and yang of free publicity, depending on how you look at it.

you could well try to go for something of the sort, a related major and minor. then again, you may argue that psych is related to PR. or vice versa. my advice is to choose a related minor. PR and journalism. psychology and psychiatric pharmeceuticals? i'm making this up. but you get my drift.

better this than to juggle your brain in two separate ways. anyway if you want the Star scholarship i don't think you have much choices in choosing majors/minors. mine came as one big package. they'll list out exactly what you're majoring for in the scholarship you're applying for. in my time IACT only had one package, so it made no difference. but if you check out the list for other colleges you'll notice that not all their courses are up for grabs under the Star Edu Fund. choose wisely. i don't think you get to switch majors around once you're under the scholarship. different rates mah.

like this PR thingy i'm doing...i didn't get a choice. some of former IACT alumni have gone on to do business, marketing even multimedia though we did exactly the same thing back home. i can't complain, it's paid for. PR was the only choice for a full-scholarship.

i think you'll ace the interview, especially if you remind them how ambitious you are and what you did for your school prom. but don't force it down their throats.

i remember one of the questions they asked me (somehow they didn't ask the others) was "if you had a million dollars, what would you do with it?" muthafcuker. i answered, rather honestly, that i would use part of it to pay off my dad's debt so i wouldn't have to go through horrifying scholarship interviews just to go to college.

noting their expressions, i stammered, "well, i suppose i'll use the rest to set up a scholarship fund to help other students like myself who can't afford college. everybody deserves a chance."

i think that one nailed it on the head. my luckiest break in life ;)

regards,

IACT poster boy

pinkpau wrote today at 3:05 AM ET

dear IACT poster boy,

so psychology is out as a minor? i really dont think i should do PR, even as a minor ... i'm not good at handling people, really :P i think i would ruin the company i work for.

okay say if i pick Advertising as my major .. i'll be going into mass comm at Taylors. problem : ADP or diploma?

bout Star scholarship.. yea okie i'll look thru and pick wisely :) the interview -- do all applicants go for it or is it a shortlisted bunch that makes it?

nice answer to the million dollar question, btw! i love it.

lost post secondary school girl

lowezra wrote today at 4:10 AM ET

dear lost post-secondary school girl,

i just find the pairing weird, that's all. not to say you can't try it. be adventurous, but most importantly, be sure it's something you want.

heck i've no idea about the ADP or diploma. pick the most challenging one. seriously. you'll have lots of competitors in the workplace next time. prove to your future employers that you have the will to go through shit and survive.

i can't remember...but i think it depends? whatever it is, i'm pretty sure you'll at least be picked for the interview. i'm pretty sure you'll ace it too!

like i said, it was a fluke. a very lucky one indeed ;)

best regards,

IACT poster boy

pinkpau wrote today at 5:35 AM ET

dear iact poster boy,

okay i think i've run out of questions .. :D thanks for all the help + advice so far! much much appreciated.

though would you mind if i came to you in the future if i have more questions?

+ lost post secondary school girl

lowezra wrote today at 6:16 AM ET

What's your MSN contact? This Multiply back-and-forth thingy is getting annoying.

pinkpau wrote today at 8:14 AM ET

oh haha sorry..!

lostpostsecondarygirl@someemailaddress.com

Ho Ho Ho

2005-12-25T11:28:00.000+13:00

Mike, the old guy who does maintenance where I work has had an illustrious life. At least that’s what I think. For someone 72 years old, and who’s lived through a World War, the advent of the jetliner, Elvis to Nirvana, a few Labour and National governments, rock and roll to hip hop, changing landscapes, a marriage and a few deaths, two cars and a boat, from coastguard to owning a dairy, the introduction of the computer age, and more recently the Asian invasion of Auckland, he’s a guy who’s seen the most tremulous part of the frail part of life we call human history.

And he’s lonely for Christmas eve.

So being in the same boat as he was, I proffered a dinner. He was doing night duty at Quest on Mount, and had a room with an oven, microwave…the works. Turned out I didn’t have to do anything at all. He offered half a dozen beers and a microwave dinner. Might as well, I thought.

So there I was sitting with an empty stomach filled with two Stella Artois, half-charmed and relaxed as he told me everything from how the current manager was being a dick to how his wife left him. Which was sad, really.
10 grandfather stories later, I found out I couldn’t really concentrate. My mind was wandering too far. I excused myself and stood at the balcony on his 13th floor apartment, taking in the breathtaking view of Auckland and the harbour beyond. I hadn’t lit my cigarette but I smelt smoke anyway. It struck me that I was in apartment 13C, right next to 13B. That particular one holds some significance. It’s the one where Jason (the desperado engineering student from Hong Kong who does maintenance as well) lost his ability of speech when Penny walked out of the shower with just a towel around her.

Penny and her mom have been living in apartment 13B for more than a month now. Her mom’s the girlfriend of a guy who’s here on business, though he doesn’t look it. Quite frankly, her mom’s an older version of she is, which says a lot seeing she’s as hot as a coal in hell. They left the cold winter of England to steam up New Zealand with their presence. Every time she walks by the little cubicle they call the reception area, she smiles. Just that split second is enough to make me return the smile for an hour more. Of course, I’d be smiling to myself but it’s a good thing she doesn’t know it.

Anyway Penny was out on her balcony.

“Hey Penny, er, merry Christmas.”

“Hey,” she started up.

“Erm, you, er, no plans for tomorrow, no, tonight?”

“Nah, it’s just me and my mom tonight. Thought of some pub maybe.”

“I thought you had a date today?”

“Huh?”

“That guy you were walking out with today. I, er, saw you with a guy. A guy…er…some guy?”

“What guy?”

“I could swear there was a guy…”

At this point I felt my face burn and I’m certain it wasn’t because of the beer or the sunburn I got from surfing at Raglan two days before. Oh shit, she knows I notice her every move like some perv.

“Hahaha, no, just me and my mom tonight.”

“Auckland must be full of guys huh…I mean, anyone you wanted to go out with.”

“Hahaha yeah I guess. What are your plans for tonight?”

“Nothing…just me and Mike. Two lonely guys…” (At this point I realized how sad I sounded.)

“Well, I’ll holler from here if you wanna come along.” (Cue mindblowing smile.)

In my head was a Hanson concert at full blast with people swaying to the chorus of "Penny and Me".

And I watched her disappear back into the room, those mini denim shorts capping a blur of perfect long legs.
And so I resigned myself to a long night ahead with Mike for company. But a Nutcracker musical and some Brittany Murphy movie later, I had had enough. I took my leave and left. Poor Mike. This was supposed to be his night, not mine.

Right now I’m back home. Home alone for Christmas Eve. Julien’s friends from France flew over today; they’re going on a round trip around New Zealand. The only saving grace was the pastis (anise liqueur, but tasted like anus liquor ) that went through the customs. Now I’m tipsy, lonely, and going to bed.

Shit I’m hungry. What I wouldn’t give for a good hot meal with good company my age.

So long, farewell, auf weidersehn, goodnight.

I wonder where Penny is tonight.

I Love Opai

2005-12-25T11:26:00.000+13:00

Yesterday I went out drinking with friends for the first time. Well, not really friends friends as in one huge bunch of pimping friends friends since it was just another two guys and Darren was the only one I knew. The other guy was a Jap guy named Shingo or something...Darren's flatmate. It all started when I ajaked Darren to go see Guy Cater, this hypnotist who had a free show in the Uni's student bar.It was the first time I was in there...quite surprised they didn't ask for my ID. Jugs of Tui (the local brew) were only at $5, and a jug had about 3 mugs in it. So not bad, not bad...Still cheap after conversion, considering it's a bar. So us three Asian guys waited at a lil corner table for the fun to start.Guy Cater (that's his real name) is this balding guy with a ponytail, whose wife was assisting him with the music. HE WAS HILARIOUS. He asked for a group of volunteers, who filled up the semi-circle of seats on stage. He then proceeded to explain how he was going to hypnotize them. You know how sometimes when you drive and you suffenly realise you have no recollection of the last 5 kms? Same principle - neither awake or asleep. It took only about minutes for him to put them all under. There were 2 very willing girls in the volunteer circle who totally added fun to the thing due to their very short skirts. Guy reminded us that no one under hypnotism will do anything against their principles...then quipped that no one in Vesbar had principles anyway. The most hilarious part was when this guy's impersonation of Shania Twain. You could tell he actually was a closet fan in real life...he mouthed all the words EXACTLY. There was also the part where Guy gave them all spectacle frames and told them they were X-ray glasses...and they'd be able to see the opposite sex completely naked.Their faces were hilarious.One guy went so far as to ask for those glasses again. Guy gave him a pair then told him that those glasses would only make him see other guys naked. The fucker's face was damn funny...he actually screamed. Of course, needless to say at the end of the whole thing I felt as though my stomach was gonna explode. The worst part of it all was that Guy allowed them to remember what a fool they made of themselvesI bought two jugs to share and had two of my own. Needless to say that when I was done I didn't walk home...I staggered. Past all the main city streets. I was impressed at myself for not letting my bladder blow. So that was that.Oh, and I learnt a new phrase: "Onatawa gu opai suki". I hope I got it right. It means "I love breasts". I had more fun that night than all the nights out I had combined since coming here.That's me for now. Mish you all.

You're Beautiful

2005-12-25T11:22:00.000+13:00

You can’t expect me to be the person you want me to be all the time. I’m at the brink of many a time I thought I’d be, and I’m fearing it all the same. The thought of what would be, what should be, what is and what was is all too much for me to bear. It’s just the thought that I would rather forsake courage and the societal stereotype of what I’m supposed to be rather than bear with what is here and now.

There’s so much I want to tell, but so little courage. Listen to my ramblings then. Judge me if you must. It’s only human. It’s human for you to judge, but let the record show that you must judge my right to be afraid as well.

The times I long for what could have been, I still cherish in my heart. What I make of it though, is a completely different matter. Do I take it as something I’ll strive for one day, forsaking you; or should I take it as what could have been a beautiful mistake? Time and time again, I’m reminded by circumstances and the beautiful people I meet that life is short, and whatever they say about heaven and hell, well, there still is one, and only one, middle ground on which we stand on. This phase in existence we call life. This finite plane of infinite possibilities, the irony of eternity and mortality all rolled into one. I did not choose this existence, nor this life, and I certainly don’t want the responsibility of seeing it to the end. But we have no choice. And you must understand that I’m terrified of fucking this up. Certainly not with the idea of you.

It’s you and me, and in lieu of this finite time we had together, I’ve always felt bound by this to eternity. Bound, you and me – bound as one. I’m losing my existence to you day by day, and the more I do so I’m so afraid I’ll never be able to pull back. Do I want to rip it apart? The more I delve deeper and deeper into what is your beautiful soul the more I risk my own. I’m beginning to see through your eyes, the beauty in which you view my world puts everything into a different perspective. You’re taking my complications and making them your ruby butterflies.
What’s simple is true. What’s me is you.

At the end of the day, all I want is to be happy. Help me out here. I want you the way you are. I hope you feel exactly the same way too.

My life is brilliant.My love is pure.I saw an angel.Of that I'm sure.She smiled at me on the subway.She was with another man.But I won't lose no sleep on that,'Cause I've got a plan.You're beautiful. You're beautiful.You're beautiful, it's true.I saw your face in a crowded place,And I don't know what to do,'Cause I'll never be with you.Yeah, she caught my eye,As we walked on by.She could see from my face that I was,Fucking high,And I don't think that I'll see her again,But we shared a moment that will last till the end.You're beautiful. You're beautiful.You're beautiful, it's true.I saw your face in a crowded place,And I don't know what to do,'Cause I'll never be with you.You're beautiful. You're beautiful.You're beautiful, it's true.There must be an angel with a smile on her face,When she thought up that I should be with you.But it's time to face the truth,I will never be with you.

2005-12-20T17:40:00.000+13:00

Here's to the Nights

2005-10-21T01:43:00.001+13:00

went back sunday evening after that wild wild party...no one was
around and everyone had some father's day thing on so i thought i'd
make my way back. the sun was already setting, and for the first time in my life, as i was heading towards the damansara toll, i saw a rainbow over uptown.

almost cried thinking of all i was going to leave behind. you were my life for the past 3 years. and come to think of it, you all have seen my change from the naive idealist to the bum without hope and now finally, someone wiser and stronger. there are some things that have changed a lot in me, and some things which will never (e.g. horniness and skirt-chasing, but you all already know), but one thing i've
learnt that if it wasn't for all of you there would have never had
been a constant in my life, something i could rely on, something i
could fall on.

i know when i step on that airplane, i'll be going into a time
machine; cuz the next timei come home would be in one and a half
year's time. i wouldn't have a home in Ipoh to come home to: my folks
would have already moved to some small crappy apartment in PJ. my sis would be flying halfway around the world with MAS; my dog would be given away to someone. and all of you would be working or making your ways in the world....and i'm sure you'll be far far away from where you are right now.

one thing i know for sure. you have been my landmark in this fast
changing world, at least for the past 3 years. your friendship has
borne me through some of the hardest times i've ever experienced in my life. and i'm thankful for that, seriously i have. remember the time i said in class relationships are better than friendships? i learnt how to swallow that in the past couple years.

my greatest regret is that i don't feel that i've been a friend in the same measure in return. if there only were a chance to make it up i surely will.

please don't forget me. i need something or someone familiar to come
home to.

Steven

2005-10-21T01:43:00.000+13:00

It was 4:20am, and Iwas heading home from my friend's hotel room, where I had finished four Baron's in 45 minutes. I couldn't see much of the road, let alone drive. I was tired and sleepy, and I don't know why I didn't spend the night, but it could have had something to do with a surprise visit, some awkwardness, and the funny fact that I actually missed home.

Three hours ago I had settled deep into the shallow settee in the living room, watching Sin City with my dad. It was pirated, no doubt, and enjoying movies on his "home theatre system" was one of his few pastimes. I was feeling comfortable. I was almost considering not waiting for the call.

And now here I was, misjudging a turn as I made a last minute decision to take another route home. Hearing the screeching of the tyres and the loud explosion as one burst, I knew I was screwed. Metal shrieked as it made violent contact with the side wall of the pavement. Hitting the curb at 80, I was lifted up and immediately dropped. I heard the loud bang of the undercarriage against hard tar. I sat, motionless, for 5 minutes. The gears couldn't engage. You wouldn't believe the amount of weird people whom you meet in the wee hours of an Ipoh morning.

The tow truck pulled away. I started crying. Here I was, drunk and smelling of stale toddy in front of the person I was supposed to be the most responsible to. He wasn't silent, but only words of love came out. I was utterly ashamed. I have never been any more in my life.

Glancing through pictures shows you a past you never knew existed. He went through life the same way I did, and whatever shallow, angry words I used at him before were totally unjustified, and I knew it. He lived my life; he knew how it was to be me...once. He too had the same fears, which were realised, yet somehow I know he had more courage than I could ever had. It was not recently that I saw himself in me, and myself in him. I was him. I had his genes. My glories were once his, and my shortcomings obvious in his greying hair. And yet he lived my life before. To deny me of what his life was would amount to the denial of himself. He was courageous to admit it, and courageous enough to allow it.

We lived modestly, but he spent extravagantly, much to my mother's dismay, on us. He gave so much yet never asked for anything in return. Growing up, I have come to realize how much was the value of his sacrifices. I remember the promises he didn't back up, but I too realize the selfishness of the requests that perpetuated them in the first place. And still he trusted me. Days before the annoucement of the SPM results, he took me shoe-shopping. I loved loafers and saw a beautiful pair that was everything I wanted. I could afford it but he insisted on paying. It was a lot of money to me then, and I asked him why. He said "For your results." I told him I could flop every paper. He told me it was ok, and it was a reward for doing my best. I got 10As. It was all his.

And now I find myself thinking back of all the days I lost where I could have told him more. And I find myself promising him I'll make him proud.

I'll won't be the man he wished he was. I'll be the man he always is. Someday. I promise.

So This is The End

2005-10-21T01:42:00.000+13:00

I was seated in a small coffeeshop in Karak, Pahang today when it hit me. Over the amazingly smooth patin and durian bombs, I realised that this would be one of those memories stuck in my head forever. There we were, Seng Hean and 1/4 of the Taiping Gang laughing and simply enjoying good friends and good food. All four girls were joking and squealing over Danny's newfound love (which was Gang Member No. 8 or something like that) and I was basically trying to ignore the looks other patrons we giving us because of the racket they made.

I loaded most of my stuff to the back of Seng Hean's Avanza,and Danny was there, getting his stuff out as well. Allan was helping me out a bit and I could tell he was kinda disappointed. A few nights ago he was complaining that he wouldn't be able to find roomies as "cool" as us. Flattered I was, but it was an overstatement. The new girl downstairs was moving her stuff in, and though I wanted to, I couldn't say I would miss the place. In fact, I couldn't stand the sight of one last glance. I couldn't explain it.

And there we were, us three guys, me watching as Danny had his Hokkien mee dinner. Talking about days gone by. Talking about 3 years in the making of the life I know. And there I was,wondering how different life would be when I return, wondering how much they'd change, wondering what paths life has prepared for us. I was thinking back to the first time I met them and how much things have changed. How much people have changed. And how the things we used to joke about have come true. And there it was. One of the last times I would meet Danny as my roomie for 3 years. No goodbyes, no farewells. Just that. Just the hope of what lay ahead. Maybe I was the only one reminiescing.

And here I am now, sitting in front of Seng Hean's PC, while all my stuff is in the maid's room. And here I am hoping that this next phase of life will be all rosy and predictable. Problem is, I know it won't be. And when I leave in 7 weeks, will it all take a turn for the worst? I'm trying to find a landmark of my life here, which would be my reference point before the concrete jungle sets in. That elusive landmark of photographs and dream-like memories which is now all that's left of my youth.

So this is the end.

Now I know how it looks like.

Gavin and Me

2005-10-21T01:41:00.000+13:00

The day I met Gavin he came into the small glass room where i was with an ice-blended mocha with extra whipped cream. His tear-streaked face was already dry, painting two icy rivers down each cheek, ending at the corners of his small pouty mouth.

"Hi", he said in a strong Brit accent, while plonking down his cuppa, spilling cream on the bass amp.

"I'm Ezra, your new teacher", I said, extending a hand. He grabbed mine and pumped it up and down.

"Gavin. You're teacher number three."

"Well, yeah, the other teachers have left so I'll teach you instead. Do you mind?"

He grabbed the drumsticks. "Nope. Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah, sure."

"My brother, he fell down just now, and, and, he loves to cry, and, he went, Uuuh Uhhh Uhh..." Gavin then proceded to make loud wailing noises that I swore made everyone in the adjacent bowling alley stare. I suspected he was talking about himself from the tear-streaks on his wailing face. It was very convincing.

"Er, so Gavin, how many siblings do you have?"

"Huh?"

"Brothers and sisters. Do you have any brothers and sisters?"

"I've a brother. He's Aaron. And you want to know another secret?"

"Uh yeah, sure." I looked around to see whether his mom was nearby and staring angrily at me for making her son "cry".

"I had another brother. But he..." He hung his head and pouted.

"He...?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you. It's a secret. Only my dad, my mom and my family knows. I'm not supposed to tell you."

"Well, that's why they call secrets secrets. You don't have to tell if you..."

He looked up and chirpily said, "I'll tell you next week though."

I had no heart to tell Gavin that this would be our first and last class together.

The Multinational

2005-10-21T01:40:00.000+13:00

I went to apply for the first ever passport I ever had in my life.

The first question the guy at the photo booth asked me was "Cina ke Melayu?"
"Er...Cina. Kenapa?"
"Cina jarang ada..." Then he made a stroking motion on his chin.
"Hahaha. Saya punya macam terrorist."

Yeah I do sport a sorry excuse for a goatee. That's because I'm Chinese and you should know that Chinese guys grow hair in the strangest of places. Like on the nipples and not on the chest. I mean I'm lucky enough to even have facial hair. At least it's not long and flowy and growing out of a huge mole on my cheek. And it must be the food here in Malaysia. You get stuff from all over. People have said I looked like everything from Chindian to Myanmese. Good grief. Still, with a name like mine it's easy to see why.

this is my curse

2005-04-02T01:36:00.000+12:00

tell ya'll something my roommate has told me countless times

"you always get what you want and what you wish for"

while i've never agreed, i kinda get whatever i want just as long as i want it.
but i also get what i wish for, whether i really wished for it or not.
and that's really fucked up.
remember the midas touch?

if this is some divine game, then sometimes i wish that i could just die and get it over with.
see, the irony is that i will most likely do so...

so whatevver happens to me tomorrow, know that you have touched me in some way in my life. and i'll always treasure that. i'll bring memories to heaven. or if i can still remember would that make it hell instead?

the one hit wonder

2005-04-01T03:03:00.000+12:00

the last time i remember my life as the way i wanted it to be was sitting in the passenger seat of seng hean's car as he was sending me home. it was 2am in the morning and the street was wet with the rain from a couple hours ago. it was at that point of time i realized that this was one of the last few times i'd be able to see the cold, silent form of the Uptown Square. the smelly, dirty shithole i've called home for three years. suddenly memories started flooding back. suddenly i realised those three years have changed me so much. both for better and worse. just changed me into the person i am today.

i cried the other day when i was going through all my photos and realised how fragile life can be. not for death or life, but for the things that make up what we call death and life. i realized that people make up my life. people are my life. and the constant circle of love and hate, pleasure and pain that they bring me i realise i bring to them also. i suddenly regretted all the mistakes i've done. i somehow feel they've perpetuated another cycle, changed someone's life, possibly forever.

do you believe in the chaos theory? the fractal science that has its principle based on the thought that miniscule matters can change the outcome of a universal process. every single thing people do changes the dynamics of life. a wrong decision, as small as it is, escalates into something out of proportion. i live in the constant fear that my mistakes, which aren't miniscule, change people's lives for the worst. especially people who have loved me and whom i have loved. i feel so selfish. i feel as though i've condemned people to die while i chose to save my own skin.

i've never fought in my life. if i were in a fight i think i'll drop after the first punch. but i've been a greater coward in life. i've been the greatest coward in love. the day i learn to be brave, the day i find my hero's welcome in someone's arms will be the day i'll gladly say i've lived life good, and i've lived life well.

today is the first day in the next phase of my life. i'm now officially a boy stuck in the body of an adult. the doors to the arena are opening and i'm already peeing in my pants. the day i find my strength i'll tell the world how i found the courage to say sorry.

2005-03-23T22:42:00.000+12:00

this is me

2005-03-18T02:12:00.000+13:00

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my love my life

2004-11-29T07:19:00.001+13:00

deep down i bet she thinks i look at other girls and want them more
deep down i think she looks much better than that
but that's not the point
she turns me on

more than a sweet young thing
more than a classmate with a short skirt
more than a "Hai....my name is..." in a Friendster post
more than anything she can ever imagine

i may be growing old but there's one thing that always on my mind
she permeates every thought and dream
much more than she can ever imagine
i see her in the morning and my waking hours
and vespertine activities and incoherent thoughts
she's my everything

and i wanna marry her

no matter if she doesn't look like any notion of commercialized beauty
no matter if my friends tell me others are better
i have never found anyone else more perfect
more patient with the me becoming me
more loving with every touch, every stroke
every kiss

that's the way she loves me
if you could only see the way she loves me
then maybe you'll understand

men weren't meant to ride with clouds between their knees

2004-11-03T04:11:00.000+13:00

i have a bike
some big ass shit which looks like hell
no one knows it's cheap and has close to no power
but heck it's black and big and has these yellow goldenish flames on it
hell yeah!

when i first got it people who drive thought it was a harley
of course the bikers knew better and made it their point to overtake me on sharp bends
but heck, most girls drive anyway and if it could fool them it'll do for me
i think that's how i got my girlfriend anyway
dunno why 'til now she doesn't wanna sit behind

when i finally realized i had my own machine
with an insurance and taxes that i myself paid for
with the total freedom that was all mine
you could imagine the fun i had riding it everywhere
i rode to the 7-11 though i could walk
i rode to work even in the rain
i rode to the airport for fucks
so much lonely fun

she meant the world to me...i'd bathe her and wipe her pipes
tweak her dials and twiddle the fuel cock
tickle the carburettor and stick my key in her ignition
yeah by now you should think i'm sick
how else would you explain a guy's fascination with riding a machine?
and the fact that a motorbike gives a guy so much power between his legs

yeah yeah i'm genitally stunted
whatever

end of the day is, people who drive don't realize how much their missing
even if the bike's a scooter, a moped even...or some bigass screaming-to-hell sportsbike
there's something about facing the elements on your own
without the hum of the aircond, music from your stereo, the fake plastic air
no ABS or 4WD or electronically controlled steering
just you, the sun or the rain, the rolling tar, the 60 miles an hour
the feeling of being in control of yourself and the machine you're using to conquer the road
not to mention the stares from drivers in their MPVs when you hit their side mirrors
and the feeling of satisfaction when you get a bug stuck between your two front teeth

the last one was just a joke

the remedy is the experience

2004-10-22T06:41:00.000+13:00

i've had kinda weird dreams these days
dreams that make sense and dreams that don't
her parents kinda found out about me and i don't really feel comfortable
it's been 8 months now and the longer i wait for the revelation the longer i feel uneasy

had to choose my electives today...
and kinda wanted to do all business/marketing ones
maybe cuz her dad's the medical doctor
and i'm just a kid who does advertising and rides a bike
guess i'm just not parent-approved...never will be

she sent me the most amazing SMS
telling me she's love me no matter what other people say
the kinda thing that makes guys actually think about commitment and what that word means to them
and the fact that she will be gone for 4 years doesn't make it any easier
so you can't blame the dreams...i guess
nightmares more like it

having exams now and so much still on my mind
got the scholarship but have to think of how to support myself
kinda fucked up but i've been spending too much lately
the kinda spending that one has when one realizes that every day may be the last
last of what i don't know

feel like i'm coming round the bend
another major turning point in my life
wish me luck
i think i'm growing up

Sprite Girl

2004-10-01T06:52:00.000+12:00

we sat at the balcony of my place
looking out into the night
opposite us, barely 20 metres away and a storey below
were the neighbourhood kids lighting candles and lanterns
three candle stubs illuminated her face
her expression frightened me

an hour ago a box of religious/household/blackout/multipurpose candles had been bought
broken in two with the help of the balcony ledge and a butterfly knife
two PCs were left on upstairs and downstairs
with an assignment in progress left hanging
the burden of a deadline a breath away
both flickering monitors a testimonial to a week's worth of sleepless nights
and a very bad mood

a day ago were plans swimming in the head of one seated in front of a flickering monitor
plans of a couple sitting in the middle of a basketball court
surrounded by a circle of multi-coloured candles
songs on a pair of lips
and words of love in another
gazing at a moon so brightly illuminated by the sun's indirect effervescence
the spewing of cosmic beauty
dimly reflected as an icon of something we could never fully grasp
or gaze directly towards
a symbol of a very mortal life
reflected by a divine love
the very same love that mortal mind hoped to share the following night

a week ago were whispered words in the night
the comfortable settling in of tangled limbs
and ruffled hair
a stolen kiss, a rendevous
a last glimpse of an object of affection before night came in and stole consciousness away

but right now the night lay damp and humid
little trickles of the earlier drizzle came through the gutter
and was now wetting the candle box
and the half-smoked cigarette
the air was tepid and full of tension
of the unspoken emotions

i can't blame her
it was just the wrong time
i wouldn't be able to tell her there and then that it was my fault
and that i had wonderful plans that night
if it wasn't for the many obligations that came my way
just wanted to tell her i loved her but i couldn't
and that i was just too tongue-tied with my ego in the way to actually tell her

that i was sorry
and that i'll try to make it up someday
which hopefully, will be tomorrow
if you're not still angry at me

the big gamble

2004-09-22T07:52:00.000+12:00

my roommate loves to gamble
he buys big sweep and 4D numbers
i've watched his endeavours with interest
to be honest, i've had hopes in him winning
(especially since i've a 50% share in his big sweep tickets)
the last count was 5 million Ringgit
which is quite a big sum
until i realized one thing

gamblers don't know the meaning of losing

see, people who gamble or bet or have stakes in something
(which basically means the same thing, and basiclaly means me)
always think of it as...
"hey, i didn't get it this time. let's try again"
and never...
"I LOST. why don't let's try something else."
like working, for instance
they see it as not winning or winning
and never the other extreme

see, my roommate hit on my sister before
to him it was a game of love
to me it was a gamble
he's bitter now, from unrequited "love"
though i see it as just bitter from "losing"

she didn't ask for it, he didn't expect it
that's the way gambling is anyway
not that he didn't put in effort
in the money he spent on the countless tickets he bought
nor the times he spent in a rumbling bus on the way back to my hometown
not that it isn't justified
just that it isn't fair to blame the institution
nor the girl who doesn't return the emotions

life isn't a gamble
there is always losses or winnings
and never the in-betweens
maybe i count myself lucky
i won once
do i choose water over wine
and spend my winnings on trivial pursuits
or invest it wisely?
this time i count myself forgiven
and use it to the best of my wisdom
which i hope i am doing

for she is the highest stake i have played without knowing it
and basking in the winnings is the hardest thing i have ever done
also without knowing it

ash

2004-09-14T21:33:00.000+12:00

when you're haunted by your past your present doesn't really matter

someone told me a few days ago
"whenever i talk to you i still get that deep twisting feeling inside"
i wanted to tell her i felt the exact same way
it caught me by surprise because i blamed myself for feeling that way
the knowledge that she felt the same made me feel a little better
it doesn't mean anything, i don't hope for anything
i don't want to hope for anything and i don't want anything either

it's just a residue of the past
a learned behaviour brought upon by a conditioned stimulus
no one can help it, it's an automatic feeling
maybe that's how i feel mortal
and still alive

it starts with a sudden longing, a sadness of things gone by
the cognition of a time where once two shared one life
it goes from the head to the heart
tearing your emotions slowly
until it reaches a part in your chest
where you feel your heart start to contract
and contract and contract
until you can hardly breathe and you feel short of breath
an emotional pain so real you can really believe it's physical
when some poet started the phrase "you broke my heart"
i bet he really felt that way
no wonder the ancients thought that the heart stored the emotions
for it is there we feel the most pain

there are many times i have been gripped by this sudden contraction
a recognition of a familiar face
old photographs
an e-mail
an unplanned chat
an SMS
a short hello
an ex-girlfriend

to know you once had a life much different from now
not happier or sadder
but comfortable in a different sort of way
to try and recall
to dig deep for hidden memories
to think of intimate moments
and to think of how they ended
would all seem a dream if not for the crippling contraction in my chest that reminds me they were real
all real, very very real
and very very deep down in my past

when the fire dies down, all you have left are the ashes

caught in between the elephants

2004-09-12T02:37:00.000+12:00

this is a time in my life where i am pulled in two directions

there is a part which has been earned over much time and effort
where much has been spent and much more sacrificed
many tears cried and much resolve to make things right
the achievement of a state i never thought i would regain
a state so comfortable and beautiful
which i once took for granted
and is once again in the temptation of being taken for granted once again

i could never have imagined i'd be able to come back to the place where i started
a state of innocence so beautiful

a wrong turn in the right direction

then there is another part which has been a thorn in the side
not so much a lesion but a passion
a yearning, suffering for what i know i should become
which ironically, i gave up innocence for
an elusive subject of my love which i never found
but now have
a subject of unrequited infatuation
who can only embody everything and everyone i ever wanted to be
so perfect
too perfect
finally revealed in a time a little too late

a right turn in the wrong direction

i have the mark of Two
firmly grasped in my left fist
half hidden from the world
another half a plain indication of who i have become

never thought that there would be the year of jubilee
in my lifetime, in my fervent waking hours
pulled in between two directions
should comfort be over hope
and ignorance be bliss
rather than to eat the fruit and be enlightened by sin

too much too little
crying tears of happiness
to be cruel to be kind

that's enough oxymorons for the day

no turnings left in the right direction.

The Law of Mortality

2004-09-09T22:28:00.000+12:00

these are enlightened, albeit drunken thoughts
the difference between immortality and mortal life is summed up by this
"The Law of Mortality"

in it's essence, immortality is always the number "3"
and mortality "2"
one number is all that separates us from what we have always strived towards
or worshipped
or revered
and never understood
simple as it may be, one number is our greatest quest and our greatest failure
let me explain

in human life, there are only two extremes
in perfect opposition and in perfect balance
these two extremes constitute our reasoning of the world, and existence
even life itself
without these two extremes our mortal minds would cease to comprehend
to make sense of this paradox we call life
we may reason that life is either of each
but we can never fully achieve either
this is the greatest irony

yin and yang
good and evil
light and dark
male and female
God and Satan
cruel and kind
easy and hard
beautiful and ugly
strong and weak
heavy and light
attractive and repulsive
awake and asleep
knowledge and ignorance
wisdom and foolishness
life and death
square and round
advancement and regression
forward and backward
right and left
top and bottom
in and out
first and last
healthy and sick
hot and cold
dry and wet
drunk and sober

the reason why we stay mortal is the fact that we are caught somewhere in between these two extremes
we are never truly one of both
we are never truly "pure"
we are...human
and we strive not to be stuck in the middle
where confusion lies
where we are at the eye of the storm, waiting for the walls to close in
where we are at loss
where we become the rope in a divine tug-o-war
ironically we need to be in between these two extremes
it is our nature
it is what makes us human, who we are

immortality, however, is about the one element that we cannot grasp with our feeble intellect

God

in the faith i knew

the Triumvate
the Trinity
heaven-hell-EARTH
the Father, Son and Holy Ghost
birth-life-death
salvation-redemption-eternality

these are things that i will never understand

too bad.

what, they've made you mortal too?

narcolepsy

2004-09-08T04:23:00.000+12:00

train of thought
nothing much...just
one of those days where i just want to wake up
the past few days all seem like a dream
like those moments in sleep where you know you're asleep
which is already the weird part
'cuz when you're dreaming you're not supposed to know you're asleep
but somehow you're conscious of the real world
and before you know it you open your eyes...and though you think it's only 2AM it's already 8 in the morning
and you realize you didn't catch a wink of sleep
and the rest of the day becomes the dream

it's surreal
i can't tell dreams from reality anymore
if i were to believe what they say...and that dreams are a extension of waking life
does that mean that waking life can be an extension of my dreams?
or rather...i'm living a dream in life itself
the sudden rush...the knowledge that everything seems so fake
not perfect but rather surreal
and that one day i'll wake up and realize i slept through a year
losing a whole year
it's so real
ironic that the realization i'm gonna wake up is more real than living life itself
is it a fact that the mind cannot process truth?
that we are all better off living a lie
a lie of denial and routine
a lie that life is just all about who we are

the same familiar faces
the same path i take to college
the same clothes i wear
the same pretty girls that walk by
the same things i own
the same work i do
the same obligations
the same commitments
the same recreations
the same thoughts
the same dreams
the same ambitions
the same feelings of "am i trying too hard here?"

bet you've heard this before
bet you think this is another intellectual discussion going on here...pointless as it may be
bet you think...not another nutcase, or
"you think too much"
bet you've went through this before yourself

bet you've never wondered why...if everyone feels the same...why isn't anyone doing anything about it?

oh sure, you've changed.
so have i.
another new routine.
another old new day.
circles is what they call it.

and there are people like me who wait for their next big fix
some of them find them in new friends
some in new relationships
some in a new job or change of environment
some in a new pointless hobby
some in fucking someone new
some in a new TV show

and life goes on...like mine. hey, not like i'm gonna die or anything.
so what if life's a routine? as long as it's good.
or as long as i get my fix when i need it.
big big monkey everyone's a junkie.

maybe redemption has stories to tell
maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
where can you run to escape from yourself
where're you gonna go?

salvation is Here.

quarter life crisis

2004-09-03T21:14:00.000+12:00

today i went to college in a shirt and tie, black leather shoes and a real clean pressed slacks
for no particular reason
maybe i was feeling a little sentimental and missed intership
yeaaahh right
miss fernandez said i looked clinical
and i felt fine

she had nothing to teach after two hours
same...bet she had other stuff to do apart from actually preparing notes
so she asked us what were we gonna do after IACT
i realized i didn't know
i realized i wasn't prepared
and she smiled at me and asked me
so i told her i had all the answers
but now i have all the questions
and funny how my life seemed the other way around
i've never been so confused
but i felt fine

during discussions i felt purposeful, grown up
didn't know if the threads i had were helping
but in psychology i bet they would
dream interpretation today
i wondered if i would dream of things to come
but those are dreams
and maybe dreams are all they would be
but right now i was ok
i felt fine

boring technical night class on print production
and there i learnt about CMYK, plates, film, half-dot, bromide proofing and it's chromatic, wet, digital, xerox proofing, colour separation, rubber blankets, Quark and davinci, Unix, offset, diecutting and all the weird stuff (oh, yeah, spot colour)
and after that it was time to explore a new place
Borneo in the City was incredible
and in my shirt and tie, enjoying a Thai Cheese Baked Lamb Chop
i felt fine

we sent an SMS at the same time
for the first time
and the first time in the soon ending day
and i realized how soon i was going to lose her
and how soon i was going to get her back
it was a whole new future looming ahead of me
with so much responsibilities
so little time
and her around...God, i can't just leave her to starve right?
i knew what lay ahead of me
and part of me dreaded it
part of me wanted to be there
and i realized how much i had wasted my life
and how much i wanted those days, those months, those years back

all these within a simple, mundane day
(yeah, my brain is kinda fucked)

and now i don't really feel fine

dizzy this time round

2004-08-29T18:45:00.000+12:00

it was the rooftop of Lot 10
cloudy day
you appeared with your friends
i didn't notice any
ironic how i sing to them now about the adventures of Dr. Ez
you were dressed in white, immaculate sight
you took my breath away and you didn't know it
maybe now you should
you know by now why i didn't talk
i consoled myself with the thought that you were another of those PJ bitches
those who shriek at cockroaches and glare at guys
though i know now it's only the former
you amazed me

alcohol was strong
too strong a brew for a mind so frail
who cannot comprehend 'til too late what something as abstract and wonderful as love could be
three Tigers gave me no courage to ask your number
thank goodness for friendster
you had no idea what i told danny that night
then girls came and went
and i still didn't know what i was missing
'til the day we went out
that disastrous date with Fridays and Family Circle
and what's with the drumsticks? :D
they couldn't pound as loud as my heart
five Baron's Strong Brews were the ultimatum
you said "yes" and only after one date
and you amazed me

i didn't deserve your love
and now i know i do
people called me cruel
maybe i should pay for my iniquities
but Someone was gracious
around someone like you
and you amaze me

and all the in betweens:

fringe ambipur caltex vs shell carwash snoring Echo jealousy Brad Pitt green cordury skirt 69 SS26/9 (hahaha) watching amber to violet Barons Strong Brew holding your hair up Beyonce Knowles Bala's Place nicotine half-naked and cold sleepless RM18 sticker photos 50 First Dates Hotlink ringtone getting lost at Kepong Skechers 2nd floor of Atria peas carrots corn and pickles screeching off the Federal Highway elusive jam-free Sunway shortcut pride new perspective my past JOE SLAYA X) Kellis 11/02/2004 barefoot at a BB apartment phone bill pusu's sleepover haircut JPA tears emotionless boring self esteem lightbulbs 1-Utama d'Fortune GO coupons Out of Africa rainy mamak somewhere over the rainbow strawberry lip-gloss saved chats Family Circle practice TGI Fridays china photograph mouth ulcers strawberry pancakes REDEMPTION spasticated handwriting Seremban Friendster "I found you" sticks-a-day bec's revelations: oNE hELL OF a rIDE!

it's been 6 months now
and i still pinch myself everytime i see you
everytime you walk towards me
everytime you touch my hand
everytime you tell me you love me
everytime i come to realize you're mine
and mine to keep for as long as He permits
life is funny, to say the least
someone once said that it's not what a man is, not where he came from, that makes him who he is
it's what he makes out of himself
(yes, i stole that from a movie)
somehow you made me a man
(and not in the physiological sense, but it's better than nothing)
and still you amaze me

and continue to do so

and will continue to do so for as long as i know you're there.

i think i love you
yes, i think i really do
you're amazing.