There is this public service annoucement that has been playing a lot recently on the Astro radio stations about the plight of the children of the world. About how every few seconds, a child dies from starvation or disease. I have no doubts that the statistics mentioned are not exaggerated but however tragic the facts may be, it leaves me wondering if it is altogether a bad thing that children die young under the circumstances they are born in. Don't get me wrong, I mean no insensitivity towards to suffering of the less fortunate but look at the state of the world we are in. I don't mean to sound like an advocate of doom. The human population of the world is at its highest ever in the history of the planet. At this rate, we are consuming resources faster than it can be renewed. The current path of humanity is a vicious cycle of deterioration. Every single thing we do in the name of improving the "quality of life" is edging the planet closer to exhaustion. As life expentancy improves, it can only mean the need for more living space and resources, something the planet obviously can no longer support. There are news reports everyday about how the world is teetering on the brink of collapse but nobody really cares. Why should we care when we don't feel its effects right? Twenty years ago there was no such thing as haze. Now we speak about it as "the annual haze problem", as if it is as common as Christmas.
So coming back to the plight of the children of the world, which I am sure I will be lambasted for what I am about to say. Perhaps it would be more humane and "natural" to let them die. And I don't mean just the poor and unfortunate living in third world countries, I am referring to the whole of humanity itself. Rich and powerful, ordinary or nobody, why should anyone be exempted from death? Of course, economically speaking it would have been impossible, but logically if the whole world is willing to put aside borders, there would have been no such thing as poverty if every country is willing to share resources. It's just a silly Utopian dream but it really is a very simple thing to do if we just think about it. Perhaps the most stupid thing humans ever invented are religions, governments and money. So the world turns, as governments wage war on other countries in the name of protecting their citizens whom probaby didn't need protecting if there were no borders to stunt our mentality, the rich spend millions on trinkets and frivolities which could have fed millions of hungry mouths and wannabe martyrs adopting poor children with the excuse of giving them homes when they instead could have shared their fortunes without separating them from their families (yes I am referring to Madonna).
Thursday, November 23, 2006
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Much Ado About Nothing
Pinky: Oh my God... you've lost so much weight!
Me: I know. No thanks to BODYPUMP®.
Pinky: You look so thin... You look like a model.
*Swells with pride*
Me: Wait... male or female model?
Pinky: Female.
My first reaction to that? Proceed to the nearest KFC and ordered a three piece chicken set. Of course I don't really look like a stick-thin-anorexic female model now. That's just Pinky trying to be mean to me. And despite the fact my body is currently looking its best in all 26 years of my life and I could fit into size 29 pants again, I am still easily affected by comments on my weight. I practice a couldn't-care-less attitude when it comes to other physical appearances (I would be arrested by the gay fashion police if there was one) but a passing remark on the weight which doesn't agree with me and I will be bothered by it for at least a duration of time, although Pinky is way more obsessive on that compared to me.
Vanity doesn't really have much to do with the pyschological obsession. I blame being fat through my teenage years, and the endless jibes about it coming, not from my friends, but my FAMILY of all people. It got so bad that one day I saw myself in some photos taken during the high school's anniversary parade and I totally hated it. So came the diet which saw me lose 10kgs at least, and two years ago I finally went beyond my stingy self and paid to join the most superficial gym ever in KL, *censored* and a year later became one of their own. From there onwards I no longer had to worry about being fat. Unfortunately, now I have to worry about being too thin. It seems that I can never be truly free of the whole weight issue. Well at least I can eat KFC with no guilty thoughts now.
Anyway aside from that, thanks to Jay's rants, I went and got myself this:
I am so seriously hooked, well with the book anyway. Mine doesn't have this boring cover of course, but the one with the poster from the musical which looks exactly like this:
Don't think I will ever have a chance to catch the musical here in dowdy old KL, the city where you get plays like Sam & Jet 2 in the Panggung Bandaraya, with tawdry male-to-male sex scenes. Who says we're not a liberal society.
Me: I know. No thanks to BODYPUMP®.
Pinky: You look so thin... You look like a model.
*Swells with pride*
Me: Wait... male or female model?
Pinky: Female.
My first reaction to that? Proceed to the nearest KFC and ordered a three piece chicken set. Of course I don't really look like a stick-thin-anorexic female model now. That's just Pinky trying to be mean to me. And despite the fact my body is currently looking its best in all 26 years of my life and I could fit into size 29 pants again, I am still easily affected by comments on my weight. I practice a couldn't-care-less attitude when it comes to other physical appearances (I would be arrested by the gay fashion police if there was one) but a passing remark on the weight which doesn't agree with me and I will be bothered by it for at least a duration of time, although Pinky is way more obsessive on that compared to me.
Vanity doesn't really have much to do with the pyschological obsession. I blame being fat through my teenage years, and the endless jibes about it coming, not from my friends, but my FAMILY of all people. It got so bad that one day I saw myself in some photos taken during the high school's anniversary parade and I totally hated it. So came the diet which saw me lose 10kgs at least, and two years ago I finally went beyond my stingy self and paid to join the most superficial gym ever in KL, *censored* and a year later became one of their own. From there onwards I no longer had to worry about being fat. Unfortunately, now I have to worry about being too thin. It seems that I can never be truly free of the whole weight issue. Well at least I can eat KFC with no guilty thoughts now.
Anyway aside from that, thanks to Jay's rants, I went and got myself this:
I am so seriously hooked, well with the book anyway. Mine doesn't have this boring cover of course, but the one with the poster from the musical which looks exactly like this:
(Picture extracted from Jay's blog)
Don't think I will ever have a chance to catch the musical here in dowdy old KL, the city where you get plays like Sam & Jet 2 in the Panggung Bandaraya, with tawdry male-to-male sex scenes. Who says we're not a liberal society.
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Pest Control
"Don't you ever feel lonely living alone?"
My mom asked me this question, two nights in a row during one of her, as usual, badly timed visits. The first time I couldn't even be be bothered to reply. The second time the question was beginning to get a tad bit too testy for my nerves and I told her I can't be bothered with that enquiry.
Honestly I haven't thought about that topic for some time. I am way too busy for it. Well ok the last time it crossed my mind about being lonely was when I was really sick two weeks ago but that can be easily overlooked. Every single person tend to feel miserable about being alone during such vulnerable times, don't they? I think I was more preoccupied with how to recover on time to do my classes and training. Yes, I admit it. I am addicted to gym. I have a love-hate relationship with exercise. I hate doing it but yet I can't seem to stop doing it. On the bright side, it keeps me sane and focused. I rather spend my nights in the gym than make time for some stupid relationship which is more likely to frazzle my nerves.
And as if it is some funny divine joke, someone I knew online seven years ago finally managed to pin me down during one of my rare forays back to mIRC and told me he had the hots for me all this while. Funny that should be the case because I can only recall that he usually pisses me off and elicit dry sarcasm from me. Mostly I think it's just desperation on his part. It's amazing how these things crawl out from the woodwork when you least expect it.
My mom asked me this question, two nights in a row during one of her, as usual, badly timed visits. The first time I couldn't even be be bothered to reply. The second time the question was beginning to get a tad bit too testy for my nerves and I told her I can't be bothered with that enquiry.
Honestly I haven't thought about that topic for some time. I am way too busy for it. Well ok the last time it crossed my mind about being lonely was when I was really sick two weeks ago but that can be easily overlooked. Every single person tend to feel miserable about being alone during such vulnerable times, don't they? I think I was more preoccupied with how to recover on time to do my classes and training. Yes, I admit it. I am addicted to gym. I have a love-hate relationship with exercise. I hate doing it but yet I can't seem to stop doing it. On the bright side, it keeps me sane and focused. I rather spend my nights in the gym than make time for some stupid relationship which is more likely to frazzle my nerves.
And as if it is some funny divine joke, someone I knew online seven years ago finally managed to pin me down during one of my rare forays back to mIRC and told me he had the hots for me all this while. Funny that should be the case because I can only recall that he usually pisses me off and elicit dry sarcasm from me. Mostly I think it's just desperation on his part. It's amazing how these things crawl out from the woodwork when you least expect it.
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
I'm Back
Last week must be one of the worst weeks I've ever had. For several days I was down with what seemed to be one of the worst case of food poisoning I've ever had, with a complimentary fever to go with it. To top it off, if someone can actually have "wind" in the stomach, I must have had a hurricane. Whatever I took basically refused to stay in. Well actually it did, since I forcefully kept it down with much agony. So just to stop from suffering I stayed away from eating mostly, and as a result, I became much weaker than ever. I know most people will think I was a total idiot, but I still was doing my usual RPM™ class, with just one day of rest. Not that I was being suicidal, but there just wasn't any replacements at such short notice, and the blithering buffoon who was suppose to assist me that night did not show up, though I saw him stuffing his face at the gym vicinity.
And 3 days after, I was in training for BODYPUMP®. Three days worth of physical torment for my already bacteria ravaged body. Due to exhaustion, I woke up late on the second day. Screaming "SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!!", I scrambled out of bed, ignoring all hygiene routines and hunger, and arrived 15 minutes late. For some reason I performed exceptionally well with the first round of presentations, but the day was yet to be through with me. On an empty stomach I was subjected to what the trainer termed as BODYPUMP® Challenge - a 55 minutes circuit of unspeakable torture on the body. Best of all, you are required to inflict the torture upon yourself. I think I would have threw up at the end of it. The only problem was there was nothing to throw up. The result? A pair of almost useless legs which were constantly in pain for at least 3 days. The day right after, with useless legs and all, I was back on the stationary bike again for RPM™. The toll that kept me going for 3 days? At least 7 'biji' panadol. Insane does not describe me, retarded is more the case. I can still picture the look on everyone's faces whenever I told them how I was popping pills to survive the ordeal.
Somehow, I survived...
And soon I will be inflicting a different variety of torture upon gym goers. Be still my palpitating heart.
And 3 days after, I was in training for BODYPUMP®. Three days worth of physical torment for my already bacteria ravaged body. Due to exhaustion, I woke up late on the second day. Screaming "SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT!!!!", I scrambled out of bed, ignoring all hygiene routines and hunger, and arrived 15 minutes late. For some reason I performed exceptionally well with the first round of presentations, but the day was yet to be through with me. On an empty stomach I was subjected to what the trainer termed as BODYPUMP® Challenge - a 55 minutes circuit of unspeakable torture on the body. Best of all, you are required to inflict the torture upon yourself. I think I would have threw up at the end of it. The only problem was there was nothing to throw up. The result? A pair of almost useless legs which were constantly in pain for at least 3 days. The day right after, with useless legs and all, I was back on the stationary bike again for RPM™. The toll that kept me going for 3 days? At least 7 'biji' panadol. Insane does not describe me, retarded is more the case. I can still picture the look on everyone's faces whenever I told them how I was popping pills to survive the ordeal.
Somehow, I survived...
And soon I will be inflicting a different variety of torture upon gym goers. Be still my palpitating heart.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
It's Just Another Farewell
I wrote about him before in my previous journal, the one whom I called the Fallen Angel. One of three guys who made a big influence in my life, well discounting my father. Prior to meeting him seven years ago, I was told by a friend that I would not help liking him because of his cheerful and perpetually smiling exterior. Well that friend was right, I couldn't help liking him. Little did I know he would also turn my life around. He would inspire me to be always true to myself. Perhaps what I am today, I still owe it to him, though he might not know the extent of his influence in my life.
Seven years sort of brought a rift between us. Nothing dramatic, it's just the way time tends to sunder most things. Though not close anymore, I still had great respect for this guy though he seemed somewhat changed from the person I used to know. Then again so have I. Recently I chanced to know he was moving overseas. At first I thought little about it. He didn't even tell me he was leaving. Out of a whim, I wished him all the best anyway, to which he seemed surprised because he hadn't expected a lot of people to know of his imminent departure. He thought little about it, to him it seemed like not too far a move, just that he will rarely be around.
Last Saturday we had a sort of informal farewell for him. There was nothing sad about it. It was almost like just a normal weekend getogether. When he put his arm around my shoulders in a brotherly gesture, that was when I realised despite the seven years rift and all, I was going to miss him. For a moment I thought I saw the same guy I used to know, the one who inspired me to be myself. Wish I had enough guts to tell him how much I love him, not so much as a lover, or a friend but as a genuine human being. One that I grew to admire and in some ways aspired to be. I believe everybody should have a friend like him in their lives. Perhaps some things are better left unsaid.
See you around B... and good tidings.
Seven years sort of brought a rift between us. Nothing dramatic, it's just the way time tends to sunder most things. Though not close anymore, I still had great respect for this guy though he seemed somewhat changed from the person I used to know. Then again so have I. Recently I chanced to know he was moving overseas. At first I thought little about it. He didn't even tell me he was leaving. Out of a whim, I wished him all the best anyway, to which he seemed surprised because he hadn't expected a lot of people to know of his imminent departure. He thought little about it, to him it seemed like not too far a move, just that he will rarely be around.
Last Saturday we had a sort of informal farewell for him. There was nothing sad about it. It was almost like just a normal weekend getogether. When he put his arm around my shoulders in a brotherly gesture, that was when I realised despite the seven years rift and all, I was going to miss him. For a moment I thought I saw the same guy I used to know, the one who inspired me to be myself. Wish I had enough guts to tell him how much I love him, not so much as a lover, or a friend but as a genuine human being. One that I grew to admire and in some ways aspired to be. I believe everybody should have a friend like him in their lives. Perhaps some things are better left unsaid.
See you around B... and good tidings.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
The Final Curtain
A friend's recent brush with a serious illness led to conversation about the value of friendship. And from there, somehow we ended up talking about whether or not any of my friends would know should I suddenly find myself on a trip back to meet the maker. In any case, they would eventually know but I think the emphasis here is how fast the news would travel. Now there are several scenarios of what will transpire. This might sound like a morbid topic but then again according to a monk I read about once, he actually keeps his homemade coffin around to remind himself of his own mortality, so heck, let's take a shot at this shall we?
Well first, we will consider the nature of my demise. Should I find myself kicking the bucket at home alone, probably from choking, electrocution, crushed from a falling shelf, etc., it will probably take at least over a week before the neighbours begin noticing the foul odour of my decomposing corpse. Of course by then, the gyms would have called my phone repeatedly over my class absence and the coordinators and members would be cursing me for my sudden lapse in responsibility. So let's say they discover my bloated corpse by the seventh day, my death would come to the attention of my family. Finally, the incessant calls from the gyms would eventually be answered by someone and they would be told of my tragic passing. The news begins to travel faster than the speed of premature ejaculation through the gym grapevine, which will eventually reach the ears of my friends. Shocked, they will wring their broken wrists in distress as they begin discussing about the feasibility of attending my funeral, only to realise this fact - they did not know where I came from, therefore would not know where my funeral would be held. They would be alternating between Ipoh and Sitiawan, both of which are not my hometown. Of course by the time they figured it out, I would have been already been cremated for at least three days.
Should I die in the presence of someone, news of my passing would of course travel faster. Someone in my family would either pick up a random call for me or decided to inform my friends via people recorded in handphone, half of which probably doesn't even remember who I am. However, once again they will probably hit the previous snag of not knowing where my funeral would be held which of course and the result will remain the same. Now let's say someone did remember where I come from, they will balk at the location and decide that I will understand that they couldn't attend. Among excuses that will probably be heard are, parents being superstitious of attending funerals and work commitments.
As gothic humour this may sound, it's a sad and possible truth that this may be what will transpire should I die suddenly. I anticipate that at least only two friends will make it to the funeral out of their own steam should they get wind of my demise quick enough. I think they know who they are. This post is not really about death in particular, but how well do we really know the people around us. Often we take their presence for granted, yet 'friends' we call them. I remembered a time when I went through great lengths to make sure I maintain my bond with the people that I know, but much like the over-rated issue of the Malaysia-Singapore crooked bridge, such things just don't just work one way. Few years down the road and my so called closest friend still think don't know for sure what I do for a living (he just assumes I am in IT). But that's not too bad, after all, at least it will take within a week for my gay friends to find out if I kicked the bucket. The others? I will consider it fortunate if they know about it within a year.
Well first, we will consider the nature of my demise. Should I find myself kicking the bucket at home alone, probably from choking, electrocution, crushed from a falling shelf, etc., it will probably take at least over a week before the neighbours begin noticing the foul odour of my decomposing corpse. Of course by then, the gyms would have called my phone repeatedly over my class absence and the coordinators and members would be cursing me for my sudden lapse in responsibility. So let's say they discover my bloated corpse by the seventh day, my death would come to the attention of my family. Finally, the incessant calls from the gyms would eventually be answered by someone and they would be told of my tragic passing. The news begins to travel faster than the speed of premature ejaculation through the gym grapevine, which will eventually reach the ears of my friends. Shocked, they will wring their broken wrists in distress as they begin discussing about the feasibility of attending my funeral, only to realise this fact - they did not know where I came from, therefore would not know where my funeral would be held. They would be alternating between Ipoh and Sitiawan, both of which are not my hometown. Of course by the time they figured it out, I would have been already been cremated for at least three days.
Should I die in the presence of someone, news of my passing would of course travel faster. Someone in my family would either pick up a random call for me or decided to inform my friends via people recorded in handphone, half of which probably doesn't even remember who I am. However, once again they will probably hit the previous snag of not knowing where my funeral would be held which of course and the result will remain the same. Now let's say someone did remember where I come from, they will balk at the location and decide that I will understand that they couldn't attend. Among excuses that will probably be heard are, parents being superstitious of attending funerals and work commitments.
As gothic humour this may sound, it's a sad and possible truth that this may be what will transpire should I die suddenly. I anticipate that at least only two friends will make it to the funeral out of their own steam should they get wind of my demise quick enough. I think they know who they are. This post is not really about death in particular, but how well do we really know the people around us. Often we take their presence for granted, yet 'friends' we call them. I remembered a time when I went through great lengths to make sure I maintain my bond with the people that I know, but much like the over-rated issue of the Malaysia-Singapore crooked bridge, such things just don't just work one way. Few years down the road and my so called closest friend still think don't know for sure what I do for a living (he just assumes I am in IT). But that's not too bad, after all, at least it will take within a week for my gay friends to find out if I kicked the bucket. The others? I will consider it fortunate if they know about it within a year.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Mid-Autumn Festival
In my earliest childhood memories of the impending Mid-Autumn Festival or sometimes more plainly known as the Mooncake Festival, I remember a coffee shop bedecked with wire framed glass paper lanterns for sale to celebrate the season. Even the market vendors would be vying for a piece of the pie at the morning market. Each year, if the lantern from last year did not survive storage or went up in smoke in a tragic candle mishap, my mom would bring me to this coffee shop to get a new one. I can still remember the delight of seeing so many different kinds lanterns in all hues of the rainbow casting their wondrous colours on the walkway. Rabbits, horses, goldfishes, ordinary animals to mythical beasts like the phoenix and dragon, you name it they had it.
During the season, the Rukun Tetangga would organise a lantern parade for the kids in the neighbourhood. Everyone would be comparing their lanterns in a kiasu attempt to outclass the other. Being kids, the bigger your lantern, the more awe and envy you would inspire. My mom of course would encourage no such thing, so yours truly's lantern was always somewhat lacking in size. I think at one point, my mom no longer encouraged the buying, she actually learnt to make them herself, but for some reason, she went no further than making star-shaped ones. I think this was one of my very first lessons in humility. After a while, I learnt not to mind that my lantern did not have all the fanciness of a bought lantern, it was special in its own way. Nobody had the same design.
During the last few years, when I had the chance to return home for the season, I noticed the same coffee shop no longer sold the lanterns which had become a cherished sight in my childhood. In fact, try as I might, no where could I find the same sight again. Market vendors have stopped selling the traditional wire framed ones. In their place were the cheap foldable paper ones. But even that is beginning to see a decline. What is becoming a fixed fashion are mass manufactured, battery operated plastic ones, in all garish designs, from ridiculous manga comic characters to David Beckham. Yes, you read right, DAVID BECKHAM. And God forbid, some of them could actually emit music. Maybe I am just nostalgic, but these current forms of lanterns did not appeal to me at all, though I remembered at one point of time in my childhood I had one (before my parents trusted me with real candles). They just did not hold the same feel for me.
For some reason recently, I had the urge to get one of those wire framed ones. Though a rare sight, you could still find some if you looked hard enough. However to my dismay, they look so poorly made, I couldn't bring myself to buy one. The original lantern makers took more pride in their trade, and I guess it went with them as time claimed them. Somehow that made the season look more like a time to reflect than to celebrate for me. To mourn for a past that was lost, to mourn for a tradition that is in its twilight. What I would give to see that familiar colourful sight again.
Paul had this image which inspired this post, it's not the same lanterns in my childhood memories, but the imagery comes close.
During the season, the Rukun Tetangga would organise a lantern parade for the kids in the neighbourhood. Everyone would be comparing their lanterns in a kiasu attempt to outclass the other. Being kids, the bigger your lantern, the more awe and envy you would inspire. My mom of course would encourage no such thing, so yours truly's lantern was always somewhat lacking in size. I think at one point, my mom no longer encouraged the buying, she actually learnt to make them herself, but for some reason, she went no further than making star-shaped ones. I think this was one of my very first lessons in humility. After a while, I learnt not to mind that my lantern did not have all the fanciness of a bought lantern, it was special in its own way. Nobody had the same design.
During the last few years, when I had the chance to return home for the season, I noticed the same coffee shop no longer sold the lanterns which had become a cherished sight in my childhood. In fact, try as I might, no where could I find the same sight again. Market vendors have stopped selling the traditional wire framed ones. In their place were the cheap foldable paper ones. But even that is beginning to see a decline. What is becoming a fixed fashion are mass manufactured, battery operated plastic ones, in all garish designs, from ridiculous manga comic characters to David Beckham. Yes, you read right, DAVID BECKHAM. And God forbid, some of them could actually emit music. Maybe I am just nostalgic, but these current forms of lanterns did not appeal to me at all, though I remembered at one point of time in my childhood I had one (before my parents trusted me with real candles). They just did not hold the same feel for me.
For some reason recently, I had the urge to get one of those wire framed ones. Though a rare sight, you could still find some if you looked hard enough. However to my dismay, they look so poorly made, I couldn't bring myself to buy one. The original lantern makers took more pride in their trade, and I guess it went with them as time claimed them. Somehow that made the season look more like a time to reflect than to celebrate for me. To mourn for a past that was lost, to mourn for a tradition that is in its twilight. What I would give to see that familiar colourful sight again.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
The Secrets We Keep
This is a continuation on the acquaintance who died in a road accident. Well sort of. A friend of mine told me his friends were trying to locate his ex and they had wanted him to be at his funeral. However the funeral came and went, and I guessed they failed in their little quest.
Yesterday, immersed in boredom, I casually harrassed a friend online.
Me: Sien sien sien!!! (Bored bored bored!!!)
Friend: A little bit la... How how how?
Me: I know... let's talk about you. Tell me about your dirty history!
Friend: Like what? My ex just died...
I think my jaw dropped. All this while they were looking for him and he was right under my nose. Turned out he knew of his passing but had on purpose avoided the funeral. The deceased's mother had knew about them and that the relationship had ended badly. He felt he didn't need to be there to further aggravate the situation. Pretty sensible of him though personally I felt it wouldn't have really mattered. Funerals are for the living. A message to tell us to keep living... well, until it's time to stop anyway.
It makes me wonder how many stories go untold in our lives. From what I can see when death comes, 50% of us live on in what other people know of us. Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle kept with different people, requiring them all to come together to see the whole picture. The other 50%... well, becomes pure speculation. We can write a memoir on our lives but it still will not fill in all the gaps. Just like how this journal is just going to be just a portion of the person who writes it. Just an interesting fact that I recently read, the dead outnumber the living. There are more dead people through the ages than there are currently alive. That's how many untold stories there are.
Yesterday, immersed in boredom, I casually harrassed a friend online.
Me: Sien sien sien!!! (Bored bored bored!!!)
Friend: A little bit la... How how how?
Me: I know... let's talk about you. Tell me about your dirty history!
Friend: Like what? My ex just died...
I think my jaw dropped. All this while they were looking for him and he was right under my nose. Turned out he knew of his passing but had on purpose avoided the funeral. The deceased's mother had knew about them and that the relationship had ended badly. He felt he didn't need to be there to further aggravate the situation. Pretty sensible of him though personally I felt it wouldn't have really mattered. Funerals are for the living. A message to tell us to keep living... well, until it's time to stop anyway.
It makes me wonder how many stories go untold in our lives. From what I can see when death comes, 50% of us live on in what other people know of us. Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle kept with different people, requiring them all to come together to see the whole picture. The other 50%... well, becomes pure speculation. We can write a memoir on our lives but it still will not fill in all the gaps. Just like how this journal is just going to be just a portion of the person who writes it. Just an interesting fact that I recently read, the dead outnumber the living. There are more dead people through the ages than there are currently alive. That's how many untold stories there are.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Space Filler
Just three things.
Firstly, an old acquiantance died recently in a road accident. From what I heard he was driving back from Penang with his boyfriend in the car with him. Car skidded from a busted tyre and the resulting crash fatally flung him from the vehicle, though the boyfriend survived. Don't know how much of it is dramatised by gossip queens, but it was said that he died in his boyfriend's arms. I must admit I can hardly remember how he looks like, having never seen him for a few years at least, though I recalled him being a rather boisterous, cheerful person. I can count myself as lucky because in all my 26 years of life, I have only lost two friends, both I can safely say are not close to me. Despite that, it didn't stop me from contemplating on his death but I guess being human, we're drawn to reminders of our own mortality. After watching all five seasons of Six Feet Under, it had sort of made death seem like a very common thing, which it is in fact. Rest in peace, Michael.
Solid stone, is just sand and water, and a million years gone by.
Secondly, after being 'conned' into getting my mug professionally shot and retouched, I uploaded the result in my profile site. Something which came as a relief for some of my close friends who had been badgering me into replacing my six year old picture. Incredibly my heart count quadrupled in less than a week's time, most of them from new people. I am half flattered and half disgusted, at how much importance gay men place importance on fleeting physical appearances. Making me even more disgusted are people I have known from the past were among those joining the fray, including a particular narcissistic buffoon who thought if he were given a chance to do me, would blow my mind and my entire perception on sex. Christ. I would keep him in mind if I ever consider sex with hairless simians. Of course this is nothing new. Still, it doesn't stop me from feeling bothered and dismayed. Oh well, for those who thought I was attractive to their eyes, thanks anyway. I would rather prefer it if they saw more than just that.
Thirdly, after a long time of resisting, I have finally caved in to being superficial. I went on diet just so I could work on getting those torturous 'six packs'. Not so much on vanity's sake, but just to prove I can do it. I did not set a particular time span in achieving this. It is however, beginning to become an irritation. Living alone doesn't give you much time in preparing your own food, and the difficulty in finding suitable food outside to sustain the diet is frustrating. I am pleased to say though, it is showing some results if not much. Good luck to me.
Firstly, an old acquiantance died recently in a road accident. From what I heard he was driving back from Penang with his boyfriend in the car with him. Car skidded from a busted tyre and the resulting crash fatally flung him from the vehicle, though the boyfriend survived. Don't know how much of it is dramatised by gossip queens, but it was said that he died in his boyfriend's arms. I must admit I can hardly remember how he looks like, having never seen him for a few years at least, though I recalled him being a rather boisterous, cheerful person. I can count myself as lucky because in all my 26 years of life, I have only lost two friends, both I can safely say are not close to me. Despite that, it didn't stop me from contemplating on his death but I guess being human, we're drawn to reminders of our own mortality. After watching all five seasons of Six Feet Under, it had sort of made death seem like a very common thing, which it is in fact. Rest in peace, Michael.
Solid stone, is just sand and water, and a million years gone by.
Secondly, after being 'conned' into getting my mug professionally shot and retouched, I uploaded the result in my profile site. Something which came as a relief for some of my close friends who had been badgering me into replacing my six year old picture. Incredibly my heart count quadrupled in less than a week's time, most of them from new people. I am half flattered and half disgusted, at how much importance gay men place importance on fleeting physical appearances. Making me even more disgusted are people I have known from the past were among those joining the fray, including a particular narcissistic buffoon who thought if he were given a chance to do me, would blow my mind and my entire perception on sex. Christ. I would keep him in mind if I ever consider sex with hairless simians. Of course this is nothing new. Still, it doesn't stop me from feeling bothered and dismayed. Oh well, for those who thought I was attractive to their eyes, thanks anyway. I would rather prefer it if they saw more than just that.
Thirdly, after a long time of resisting, I have finally caved in to being superficial. I went on diet just so I could work on getting those torturous 'six packs'. Not so much on vanity's sake, but just to prove I can do it. I did not set a particular time span in achieving this. It is however, beginning to become an irritation. Living alone doesn't give you much time in preparing your own food, and the difficulty in finding suitable food outside to sustain the diet is frustrating. I am pleased to say though, it is showing some results if not much. Good luck to me.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
These Streets
In case any of you are wondering, no, my blog has not turned into an obituary site. I can't help it if two significant personalities died within such a short period of time. And no, I am not joining the fray of some pointless hype of mourning someone I hardly know. Unlike what I used to do back in Livejournal, I am not even writing a short obituary for the deceased anymore. I respect Steve Irwin for his contributions as a conservationist, though I wouldn't quite agree to his crazy penchant for pissing off rather dangerous animals. I think he deserves to be remembered for his legacy of educating the younger generation on nature.
That aside, a snatch theft just happened right in front of my office just now, much to my horror. I kind of heard the commotion and then saw the two robbers fleeing past my window on their motorbike with a whole mob of angry men in pursuit on foot. Sad to say they didn't manage to apprehend them. It wouldn't be the first time I witnessed something of this sort. Despite that, it never fails to give me a chill every time. The one who made the snatch actually went at his victim with a knife. A stun tactic to get the victim to let go of their possessions. The victim, a lady who works next door was not really seriously hurt, just a minor cut but still, I just think these bastards are going too far. How many times have we heard about people dying after being seriously hurt by such robbers and I wonder if the police are doing enough to put a stop to this menace. It took the police more than half an hour to arrive at the scene. HALF AN HOUR! What were they thinking, that we need counselling services? Doesn't inspire much confidence either to see that over half of our police force look as if they spend their time eating instead of fighting crime.
Some smart alec suggested we should draft the territorial army to assist the police. Just the other day I saw several trucks carrying army personnel. Guess what? They were just as fat, if not fatter than our boys in blue. Seriously, in the event of a real war, these guys are practically walking target barrels. Meanwhile, I think I will feel a lot safer carrying a weapon in my pocket whenever I am on the streets. My boss was mumbling where was his shotgun when he needed it. Left me speechless.
That aside, a snatch theft just happened right in front of my office just now, much to my horror. I kind of heard the commotion and then saw the two robbers fleeing past my window on their motorbike with a whole mob of angry men in pursuit on foot. Sad to say they didn't manage to apprehend them. It wouldn't be the first time I witnessed something of this sort. Despite that, it never fails to give me a chill every time. The one who made the snatch actually went at his victim with a knife. A stun tactic to get the victim to let go of their possessions. The victim, a lady who works next door was not really seriously hurt, just a minor cut but still, I just think these bastards are going too far. How many times have we heard about people dying after being seriously hurt by such robbers and I wonder if the police are doing enough to put a stop to this menace. It took the police more than half an hour to arrive at the scene. HALF AN HOUR! What were they thinking, that we need counselling services? Doesn't inspire much confidence either to see that over half of our police force look as if they spend their time eating instead of fighting crime.
Some smart alec suggested we should draft the territorial army to assist the police. Just the other day I saw several trucks carrying army personnel. Guess what? They were just as fat, if not fatter than our boys in blue. Seriously, in the event of a real war, these guys are practically walking target barrels. Meanwhile, I think I will feel a lot safer carrying a weapon in my pocket whenever I am on the streets. My boss was mumbling where was his shotgun when he needed it. Left me speechless.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Like A Knife Through The Heart
I remembered when I was in primary school, we used to have this class they called "Tulisan", meaning "Writing" so I guess you can call it Writing Class. Basically how it is conducted is you have to copy some text from somewhere (as you can see, we are trained to be plagiarists and pirates from young) on this specially printed exercise book which has space allocated for illustrations. Usually the teacher wouldn't mind if we cut out some pictures from somewhere and paste it there. But me, being the budding fag that I was would take great pains to hand draw the illustrations. Trust me, I was one of the best... then.
Anyway, we had an assignment one day to copy the legend of Mahsuri for that particular class. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the legend of Mahsuri, unless you're not Malaysian, you should put a gun to your head. Make sure it's not Malaysian lead because it's too good for you. ANYWAY... just for the benefit of those who genuinely knows not of this virtuous woman of Langkawi Island, Mahsuri was supposedly a beautiful maiden who was wrongfully accused of adultery during her husband's absence in war. For her supposed crime, she was sentenced to death. When they stabbed her, the blood that flowed out was supposedly white, proving her purity and innocence. In a separate version of the legend had her pregnant and craving for jackfruit that was meant for the village headman. The headman not believing her condemned her to death on trumped up charges. Another story had it that he was actually her father-in-law and that he was lusting after her. So, if you take bits and pieces of the both stories and put them together, it could have been possible they stabbed her on the boobs and she was lactating...
ANYWAY... before she died she cursed Langkawi Island with seven generations of misfortune, a curse which apparently either died out or was broken by former prime minister Tunku Abdul Rahman when he opened up Langkawi. This brings us back to Writing Class, so for the illustration part, I don't know what got into me. Of so many scenes I could have chose from the legend, I decided on the execution scene. The exact moment, when the executioner (for some reason I drew this as the headman) plunge the keris into her breast and white blood explodes out in all its gore and morbidity. Every other kid were drawing their version of how pretty Mahsuri was though I wondered how pretty can stick ladies be. Now when I think back on it, I am kind of horrified at what I drew. I wonder now what the teacher would have thought of my masterpiece. Whatever it was that went through her head, I still got an 'A' for my efforts, gore or no gore. Wish I still kept that exercise book, would be interesting to have a shrink psycho-analyse that work of art.
Anyway, we had an assignment one day to copy the legend of Mahsuri for that particular class. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the legend of Mahsuri, unless you're not Malaysian, you should put a gun to your head. Make sure it's not Malaysian lead because it's too good for you. ANYWAY... just for the benefit of those who genuinely knows not of this virtuous woman of Langkawi Island, Mahsuri was supposedly a beautiful maiden who was wrongfully accused of adultery during her husband's absence in war. For her supposed crime, she was sentenced to death. When they stabbed her, the blood that flowed out was supposedly white, proving her purity and innocence. In a separate version of the legend had her pregnant and craving for jackfruit that was meant for the village headman. The headman not believing her condemned her to death on trumped up charges. Another story had it that he was actually her father-in-law and that he was lusting after her. So, if you take bits and pieces of the both stories and put them together, it could have been possible they stabbed her on the boobs and she was lactating...
ANYWAY... before she died she cursed Langkawi Island with seven generations of misfortune, a curse which apparently either died out or was broken by former prime minister Tunku Abdul Rahman when he opened up Langkawi. This brings us back to Writing Class, so for the illustration part, I don't know what got into me. Of so many scenes I could have chose from the legend, I decided on the execution scene. The exact moment, when the executioner (for some reason I drew this as the headman) plunge the keris into her breast and white blood explodes out in all its gore and morbidity. Every other kid were drawing their version of how pretty Mahsuri was though I wondered how pretty can stick ladies be. Now when I think back on it, I am kind of horrified at what I drew. I wonder now what the teacher would have thought of my masterpiece. Whatever it was that went through her head, I still got an 'A' for my efforts, gore or no gore. Wish I still kept that exercise book, would be interesting to have a shrink psycho-analyse that work of art.
'Mahsuri' dying as tourists cheer on
Monday, August 28, 2006
Gross Factor
Before I continue any further let's take a look at the picture below shall we? Be warned ahead that it is not for the faint hearted or anybody with a delicate stomach, but if you're already in this page then you would already have unavoidably seen it so I pretty much don't really care anyway. So let's proceed shall we?
Was that a squeal I heard? Did you make a mess on your keyboard? Did you spontaneously lose control of your bowels or bladders? Perhaps you are still looking at the picture with morbid fascination. No, this is not yet another internet myth about someone who developed a pustule on his/her feet which later became painful and infected only to be carved up by doctors to reveal a nest of squirming insect larvae reminiscent of some sci-fi horror movie. These little horrors (maggots actually) were intentionally put into a diabetic foot wound to aid in the healing process, which by the way did not heal despite heavy usage of antibiotics. Actually make it plural, the owner of this heel, Pam Mitchell is her name, had 600 live maggots put into her left foot and 400 in her right for two days in a last ditch attempt to save her feet. It worked. The nasty looking critters normally associated with decay and corruption ate away the infected flesh and Pam's feet were soon on the way to recovery.
Gross.
The method is apparently an old one, which was put out of fashion in the advent of modern medicine. To me maggots tend to evoke some rather foul memories. My long since deceased dog was once lost for three days before my brother eventually located her and she had several maggots tunneling in her nasal cavity which took my brother several drastic measures, which I will not elaborate, to remove. I think she never really recovered from the ordeal though she lived for a year more before my mom decided she was just suffering too much. I also remembered once encountering a white terrier like stray on the street. A rather friendly fellow, but much to my horror, I discovered it had several of those horrid critters eating away at its anus. I was pretty much horrified and helpless. Being too young then to know the options of helping the little pooch, which in any case would have been pointless because knowing small town vets, they would just have optioned for putting it to sleep. I think I carried the guilt for a long while for doing nothing. I never saw the stray again. It also left me wondering as to why anyone could just abandon their pet to such a fate.
Foul memories aside, I do acknowledge the usefulness of these... things. Though I wonder if I ever come to such a desperate need for such treatment would I actually allow it, even if the other option means losing a couple of limbs. Squirming larvae in my feet... the thought of it already makes me queesy.
Was that a squeal I heard? Did you make a mess on your keyboard? Did you spontaneously lose control of your bowels or bladders? Perhaps you are still looking at the picture with morbid fascination. No, this is not yet another internet myth about someone who developed a pustule on his/her feet which later became painful and infected only to be carved up by doctors to reveal a nest of squirming insect larvae reminiscent of some sci-fi horror movie. These little horrors (maggots actually) were intentionally put into a diabetic foot wound to aid in the healing process, which by the way did not heal despite heavy usage of antibiotics. Actually make it plural, the owner of this heel, Pam Mitchell is her name, had 600 live maggots put into her left foot and 400 in her right for two days in a last ditch attempt to save her feet. It worked. The nasty looking critters normally associated with decay and corruption ate away the infected flesh and Pam's feet were soon on the way to recovery.
Gross.
The method is apparently an old one, which was put out of fashion in the advent of modern medicine. To me maggots tend to evoke some rather foul memories. My long since deceased dog was once lost for three days before my brother eventually located her and she had several maggots tunneling in her nasal cavity which took my brother several drastic measures, which I will not elaborate, to remove. I think she never really recovered from the ordeal though she lived for a year more before my mom decided she was just suffering too much. I also remembered once encountering a white terrier like stray on the street. A rather friendly fellow, but much to my horror, I discovered it had several of those horrid critters eating away at its anus. I was pretty much horrified and helpless. Being too young then to know the options of helping the little pooch, which in any case would have been pointless because knowing small town vets, they would just have optioned for putting it to sleep. I think I carried the guilt for a long while for doing nothing. I never saw the stray again. It also left me wondering as to why anyone could just abandon their pet to such a fate.
Foul memories aside, I do acknowledge the usefulness of these... things. Though I wonder if I ever come to such a desperate need for such treatment would I actually allow it, even if the other option means losing a couple of limbs. Squirming larvae in my feet... the thought of it already makes me queesy.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
World Peace
And so dimunitive Pluto loses its planet status after 75 years. In a rather dramatic twist in where astronomers gathered in an unprecedented event to reclassify celestial objects, originally intending for the solar system to extend its planetary family to twelve, the debate came to a bitter end for Pluto supporters after it failed to adhere to new guidelines that defines what a planet is. Personally, I am a bit disappointed at this piece of news myself but mostly because I am more a traditionalist rather than a revolutionist. Most of the time I prefer things to stay as they are, though I would agree to scientists' views that Pluto's eccentricities does put Pluto's planethood into question. Anyway, this entry is not really about astronomical news, but rather some global issues that I am interested in.
Some of my friends would know I am not too fond of politics. Sean once guessed right when he said that I'd probably don't give a rat's arse about what is going on in the Middle-East. Well ok, those weren't his exact words but it would be close, which he, in any case was right. My opinion on the whole Middle-East crisis can be summed up in my rather destructive and genocidal proposal. Nuke the whole God forsaken region. I think the world could do better without an Israel, or Palestine, or Lebanon, or whatever troublemaking country is located within that area. Frankly speaking, those nations are like a pimple on the face of the Earth. Turn the whole region into a nuclear holocaust and hey, nothing more left to dispute over right?
Issues that perk my interests usually what I would term as the "underdog issues" - issues that mostly taken for granted or overlooked. Issues like global warming, archaeology, animal extinction etc. I mean take the whole Katrina thing, while others are more concerned about human side of the tragedy I was more concerned about the pets that were left to fend for themselves in the aftermath of the tragedy. An estimated 2000-3000 animals died in the tragedy, compared to the paltry sum of human lives lost. I'm sorry if I have total disregard for human life, but I agree with Agent Smith (of The Matrix) that humans are like viruses - they infect their host (in this case, Earth) and eventually destroy it.
Don't start to hate me yet, I do not disregard human issues altogether. For instance I am quite a follower of the Dalai Lama's activities. Generally I am concerned that when he finally dies, there would not be another Dalai Lama. The present Tenzin Gyatso had once suggested that when he eventually passes on, perhaps he would not return (Lamas believe in continuous reincarnation to help humanity towards the path of enlightenment), or either that, choose not to be reborn within Chinese Territory. Which makes sense, since the greedy Chinese government would take advantage to name their own successor to achieve their own ends. They already did that with the Panchen Lama, who traditionally plays the role of recognising the successor to the Dalai Lama and vice versa. So since the current Panchen Lama is nothing more than a Chinese puppet, the future of the next sucessor will probably be in jeopardy.
See, I am not really a beauty queen after all. Don't bother trying to discuss about gay rights issues with me though. I might be gay, but I am not much of a supporter when it comes to this cause. In fact I am pretty much against it. For simple reasons that I don't think that gay community has earned the respect they have been clamouring for. I think gay pride events are nothing more than a huge tasteless joke which I am all too eager to distance myself from. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of respectable gay people out there, I just don't think the majority of them are doing the right thing to warrant respect from the rest of society.
Some of my friends would know I am not too fond of politics. Sean once guessed right when he said that I'd probably don't give a rat's arse about what is going on in the Middle-East. Well ok, those weren't his exact words but it would be close, which he, in any case was right. My opinion on the whole Middle-East crisis can be summed up in my rather destructive and genocidal proposal. Nuke the whole God forsaken region. I think the world could do better without an Israel, or Palestine, or Lebanon, or whatever troublemaking country is located within that area. Frankly speaking, those nations are like a pimple on the face of the Earth. Turn the whole region into a nuclear holocaust and hey, nothing more left to dispute over right?
Issues that perk my interests usually what I would term as the "underdog issues" - issues that mostly taken for granted or overlooked. Issues like global warming, archaeology, animal extinction etc. I mean take the whole Katrina thing, while others are more concerned about human side of the tragedy I was more concerned about the pets that were left to fend for themselves in the aftermath of the tragedy. An estimated 2000-3000 animals died in the tragedy, compared to the paltry sum of human lives lost. I'm sorry if I have total disregard for human life, but I agree with Agent Smith (of The Matrix) that humans are like viruses - they infect their host (in this case, Earth) and eventually destroy it.
Don't start to hate me yet, I do not disregard human issues altogether. For instance I am quite a follower of the Dalai Lama's activities. Generally I am concerned that when he finally dies, there would not be another Dalai Lama. The present Tenzin Gyatso had once suggested that when he eventually passes on, perhaps he would not return (Lamas believe in continuous reincarnation to help humanity towards the path of enlightenment), or either that, choose not to be reborn within Chinese Territory. Which makes sense, since the greedy Chinese government would take advantage to name their own successor to achieve their own ends. They already did that with the Panchen Lama, who traditionally plays the role of recognising the successor to the Dalai Lama and vice versa. So since the current Panchen Lama is nothing more than a Chinese puppet, the future of the next sucessor will probably be in jeopardy.
See, I am not really a beauty queen after all. Don't bother trying to discuss about gay rights issues with me though. I might be gay, but I am not much of a supporter when it comes to this cause. In fact I am pretty much against it. For simple reasons that I don't think that gay community has earned the respect they have been clamouring for. I think gay pride events are nothing more than a huge tasteless joke which I am all too eager to distance myself from. Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of respectable gay people out there, I just don't think the majority of them are doing the right thing to warrant respect from the rest of society.
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Singularity
This is a typical conversation between me and somebody whom I haven't met in a while:
Friend: So who have you been seeing lately?
Me: Uh... nobody? Still pretty much single?
Friend: How come?
Me: Because there is nobody worthwhile dating I guess...
Friend: But you're working in the gym! There are plenty of hot guys there!
Me: Don't think I can date anybody from the gym...
Friend: And why not?
Me: Well firstly, I don't think I should "shit where I eat". Secondly the program I teach is shunned by gay folk because they are afraid it would crush their delicate balls. Thirdly, every guy who goes to gym is probably in love with themselves more than anything else.
Friend: Well... ok true on the first two counts, but the third one where got??
Me: OK... here, I will prove it to you. Take a look at that guy over there for example (singles out hot gay guy working out on the floor). Hot, right? Sexy, yes? Does he look like he sees anything but himself in the mirror? I don't think I need a boyfriend who'd probably want to fuck in front of a mirror so he could see how beautiful he looks while cumming.
Friend: ... then how? What about clubs?
Me: But I don't like clubbing...
Friend: That's where you'll get to meet people!
Me: Look, think about it. Do you see anyone in the club who is even remotely relationship material?
Friend: ... true also... then how are you ever going to meet anyone?
Me: I dunno?
Friend: Ok fine, since both gym and clubs are out of the question where do you think you'll find a guy?
Me: *Dreamy look* Well I wouldn't mind someone hitting on me at the library or bookstore...
Friend: ...
Me: What? Is it so wrong that I'd prefer someone to fuck my brain instead of my ass?
Friend: ...
Me: ...
Friend: So who have you been seeing lately?
Me: Uh... nobody? Still pretty much single?
Friend: How come?
Me: Because there is nobody worthwhile dating I guess...
Friend: But you're working in the gym! There are plenty of hot guys there!
Me: Don't think I can date anybody from the gym...
Friend: And why not?
Me: Well firstly, I don't think I should "shit where I eat". Secondly the program I teach is shunned by gay folk because they are afraid it would crush their delicate balls. Thirdly, every guy who goes to gym is probably in love with themselves more than anything else.
Friend: Well... ok true on the first two counts, but the third one where got??
Me: OK... here, I will prove it to you. Take a look at that guy over there for example (singles out hot gay guy working out on the floor). Hot, right? Sexy, yes? Does he look like he sees anything but himself in the mirror? I don't think I need a boyfriend who'd probably want to fuck in front of a mirror so he could see how beautiful he looks while cumming.
Friend: ... then how? What about clubs?
Me: But I don't like clubbing...
Friend: That's where you'll get to meet people!
Me: Look, think about it. Do you see anyone in the club who is even remotely relationship material?
Friend: ... true also... then how are you ever going to meet anyone?
Me: I dunno?
Friend: Ok fine, since both gym and clubs are out of the question where do you think you'll find a guy?
Me: *Dreamy look* Well I wouldn't mind someone hitting on me at the library or bookstore...
Friend: ...
Me: What? Is it so wrong that I'd prefer someone to fuck my brain instead of my ass?
Friend: ...
Me: ...
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Not A Man
Last night, I had dinner with a friend whom I met in gym. One of the rare ones which I knew from my own accord and not from being pimped by a total mamasan friend of mine (identity witheld for privacy purposes). And no, this person was not a date, rather just a casual friend. A topic that came into the conversation was about gay relationships in particular. Now this guy has been in a relationship with the same person for about two years, a relatively remarkable achievement in our circles.
My longest relationship lasted only a year, and that was partly because it was mostly long distance and there were set rules. Basically speaking, the relationship was open, though Roy put that into practice, I did not. I just didn't want to seem like I was holding him back. He asked me to go overseas to be with him and he wouldn't mind at all supporting me but I felt I was too young (then) to be making that kind of commitment. In the end, he found someone who could give him the commitment I couldn't and I let him go. I sulked for a day but other than that, I did not shed a tear. It was the first and last time I would ever submit to an open relationship.
Since then I have come a long way, and my innocence had taken a heavy beating - exes be damned. I remembered when I was 19, I was infatuated with this 26 year old guy I met who did not believe that a relationship gives one happiness. Of course being me then I tried my best to change his mind. Ironic that now when I am at the same age as him I should feel the same way he did. Being brought up the old fashion way, I always believe when you commit yourself to a relationship, you should try your best to make it work, cliche as it should sound, for better or for worse. How old fashioned? Let's just say before I came to the city, I'd only thought divorces happen on TV.
Gay or straight, men will be men. I guess because there is no legal binding (think marriage) to gay couples, it makes it even easier to call it quits whenever things get tough. Strangely enough I never really thought of myself as one of them, though not to say I think of myself as a woman. I am just... something else. Sometimes I think my mentality makes me an outcast even among my own 'kind'.
Not believing in the conventional way of bagging a man, Dr. Frank N Furter made his own boytoy.
My longest relationship lasted only a year, and that was partly because it was mostly long distance and there were set rules. Basically speaking, the relationship was open, though Roy put that into practice, I did not. I just didn't want to seem like I was holding him back. He asked me to go overseas to be with him and he wouldn't mind at all supporting me but I felt I was too young (then) to be making that kind of commitment. In the end, he found someone who could give him the commitment I couldn't and I let him go. I sulked for a day but other than that, I did not shed a tear. It was the first and last time I would ever submit to an open relationship.
Since then I have come a long way, and my innocence had taken a heavy beating - exes be damned. I remembered when I was 19, I was infatuated with this 26 year old guy I met who did not believe that a relationship gives one happiness. Of course being me then I tried my best to change his mind. Ironic that now when I am at the same age as him I should feel the same way he did. Being brought up the old fashion way, I always believe when you commit yourself to a relationship, you should try your best to make it work, cliche as it should sound, for better or for worse. How old fashioned? Let's just say before I came to the city, I'd only thought divorces happen on TV.
Gay or straight, men will be men. I guess because there is no legal binding (think marriage) to gay couples, it makes it even easier to call it quits whenever things get tough. Strangely enough I never really thought of myself as one of them, though not to say I think of myself as a woman. I am just... something else. Sometimes I think my mentality makes me an outcast even among my own 'kind'.
Not believing in the conventional way of bagging a man, Dr. Frank N Furter made his own boytoy.
Monday, August 21, 2006
Buy Me!
Some weeks ago, I finally purchased the entire five seasons of Six Feet Under, all pirated of course. I am not about to fund the lifestyles of a bunch of snotty celebrities with my hard earned money, even if they are remarkably talented. It was something that I had been procrastinating on since I broke up with my last ex. That itself will be another story for some other time. Anyway, to my annoyance, I discovered the entire season three would not play on my desktop. And that lead me to fulfilled yet another long procrastinated purchase. I bought a brand new 21" Samsung TV and a DVD player.
I know it may seem overboard just so I can watch a bunch of pirated DVDs but that will be a discussion for another time. In any case, I spent about RM580 on those two items all in a single visit to the ever conveniently abundant Giant Hypermarkets. About a year back, just to make arranging music easier for my classes, I bought a 5GB Creative Zen Neeon MP3 player for about RM600+. The puny thing could be covered by one hand. It was a purchase that I would regret later when I found out that I have to connect the contraption to my PC everytime I need to make a playlist.
A few months ago I also bought a handmade statuette of Kuan Yin imported from China for RM408. And no, I didn't buy it because of its relative gay-ness, that's another tale for another entry. In any case, it doesn't serve much of a function other than its aesthetic visual value (a purchase which I did not regret). So what am I trying to relate here? At a price less the one MP3 player and I manage to get a TV and DVD player, which I could use for various forms of entertainment. Yet the all the blasted MP3 player could do is play music, well and occasionally function as a portable harddisk. And from what I gather, the scourge iPod cost twice that amount... AT LEAST.
As for the statuette, though pleasing to my eyes, does nothing but "stand" there. I think I can also make a reference to wingedman's complaint on the rather pricey Ikea Audrey Hepburn wall decoration which in the end Jay made for him totally free of charge and better looking too if I might add. Another friend of mine could blow RM500 within a day on trivial things like clothes (I could suffer repercussions from making this statement). I think we're all just a bunch of guillible twits when it comes to buying stuff. Which leads me think about how one gauges the value and worth of a purchase. It's kind of ridiculous sometimes to find that we are compelled to buy relatively useless and impractical items, yet wouldn't pay a single cent on things that we badly need. Right now, I am starting to doubt the wisdom of my purchase yesterday, especially since the at least 25-year-old still working TV sits now in the spare room, swathed in plastic covering like some murder victim (think Laura Palmer).
I know it may seem overboard just so I can watch a bunch of pirated DVDs but that will be a discussion for another time. In any case, I spent about RM580 on those two items all in a single visit to the ever conveniently abundant Giant Hypermarkets. About a year back, just to make arranging music easier for my classes, I bought a 5GB Creative Zen Neeon MP3 player for about RM600+. The puny thing could be covered by one hand. It was a purchase that I would regret later when I found out that I have to connect the contraption to my PC everytime I need to make a playlist.
A few months ago I also bought a handmade statuette of Kuan Yin imported from China for RM408. And no, I didn't buy it because of its relative gay-ness, that's another tale for another entry. In any case, it doesn't serve much of a function other than its aesthetic visual value (a purchase which I did not regret). So what am I trying to relate here? At a price less the one MP3 player and I manage to get a TV and DVD player, which I could use for various forms of entertainment. Yet the all the blasted MP3 player could do is play music, well and occasionally function as a portable harddisk. And from what I gather, the scourge iPod cost twice that amount... AT LEAST.
As for the statuette, though pleasing to my eyes, does nothing but "stand" there. I think I can also make a reference to wingedman's complaint on the rather pricey Ikea Audrey Hepburn wall decoration which in the end Jay made for him totally free of charge and better looking too if I might add. Another friend of mine could blow RM500 within a day on trivial things like clothes (I could suffer repercussions from making this statement). I think we're all just a bunch of guillible twits when it comes to buying stuff. Which leads me think about how one gauges the value and worth of a purchase. It's kind of ridiculous sometimes to find that we are compelled to buy relatively useless and impractical items, yet wouldn't pay a single cent on things that we badly need. Right now, I am starting to doubt the wisdom of my purchase yesterday, especially since the at least 25-year-old still working TV sits now in the spare room, swathed in plastic covering like some murder victim (think Laura Palmer).
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Trouble On The Fast Lane
I must admit, patience is not a virtue of mine. But it was not always so - nowadays I noticed I am more particularly short-tempered. Maybe it's city life, maybe it's a symptom of aging (my mom has this theory that men get more grumpy as they get older). I find myself flustered often especially on the road. All it takes is for one slow driver obstructing my way and I would be yelling obscenities that would give a nun a heartattack. Another particular pet peeve of mine are fast food eatery queues. Well I am not really impatient about the queue itself but rather clueless dim-wits who do not know how to use the queuing time to decide what they would like to order or ask remarkably stupid questions like:
"How big your burger ar?"
*Long pause while fingering the menu* "Uuuuuuhhhhh..."
*Looking at partner* "What you want to order ar?"
*Clueless partner looks back* "I dunno ar... what you ordering?"
"I haven't decided ar... you order first laaa"
The latter usually makes me more livid than the rest. I still remember this particular one from my days in high school related to me by a friend. It was during the time when McDonald's was selling these little teddy bears.
McD Employee: Hi miss can I take your order?
Clueless Woman: Yes, I will have set (insert number). I want to buy the McTeddy as well.
McD Employee: Would you like your set small, medium or large?
Clueless Woman: The teddy ar?
McD Employee: ....
I think my friend almost keeled over when he overheard the conversation. Another prime example of wasted queuing time as well delaying the queue. It is beyond me as to why these people can't be bothered to look at the huge menus plastered on the wall behind the counter before their turn to place their order. The more obvious ones would be couples who are too busy fondling each other. No offence girls, but you're the prime instigators. And nothing ticks me off more than fat girls dressed in tight, mid-rift exposing jeans and tops canoodling with their beng/mat rock boyfriends instead of making up their minds. Well actually it wouldn't matter if they are with their boyfriends or with a similarly dressed female monstrosity, either way they are likely to piss me off. Either I have an affinity to always end up behind such species while lining up for anything or KL just happen to be full of these salah cases.
And straight people wonder why we're gay. You're just blind.
"How big your burger ar?"
*Long pause while fingering the menu* "Uuuuuuhhhhh..."
*Looking at partner* "What you want to order ar?"
*Clueless partner looks back* "I dunno ar... what you ordering?"
"I haven't decided ar... you order first laaa"
The latter usually makes me more livid than the rest. I still remember this particular one from my days in high school related to me by a friend. It was during the time when McDonald's was selling these little teddy bears.
McD Employee: Hi miss can I take your order?
Clueless Woman: Yes, I will have set (insert number). I want to buy the McTeddy as well.
McD Employee: Would you like your set small, medium or large?
Clueless Woman: The teddy ar?
McD Employee: ....
I think my friend almost keeled over when he overheard the conversation. Another prime example of wasted queuing time as well delaying the queue. It is beyond me as to why these people can't be bothered to look at the huge menus plastered on the wall behind the counter before their turn to place their order. The more obvious ones would be couples who are too busy fondling each other. No offence girls, but you're the prime instigators. And nothing ticks me off more than fat girls dressed in tight, mid-rift exposing jeans and tops canoodling with their beng/mat rock boyfriends instead of making up their minds. Well actually it wouldn't matter if they are with their boyfriends or with a similarly dressed female monstrosity, either way they are likely to piss me off. Either I have an affinity to always end up behind such species while lining up for anything or KL just happen to be full of these salah cases.
And straight people wonder why we're gay. You're just blind.
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Someone Smeared Shit On My David
For those who did not follow my exploits in Livejournal, basically the topic of this entry is about this guy whom I have been in love with for three years. How can that be? Just let me summarise it like this, unrequited love and I've grown to get used to the fact that he will never feel for me the way I feel for him. At first it was difficult for me to accept whenever he gets attached, but three years down it has dulled into a mild annoyance whenever he speaks about his latest conquest. Of course in that three years I did not exactly hold out for him; I did date other people. Just that basically my feelings for him never changed. Until lately that is...
And this is what this entry is about. Over the weekend I found my feelings for him have somewhat died. As with all things, he has changed. He is no longer the person I fell in love with. As nicotinegum suggested I think he has become a jerk. He has no respect for his boyfriend, no guilt when it comes to flaunting his fidelity and worst still from his own admittance, he no longer believes in a relationship. The very innocence that I used to adore in him has become corrupted. Don't get me wrong, it didn't get replaced, it is still there, just that it has become a mockery of what it once was. Like a rosy apple with unseen worms inside.
I am rather disappointed at the change but at the same time confused on my stand on this matter. To be honest I don't really know if I can really say my feelings for him died, I just know I don't like the way he is now. I am in no position to tell him what I feel is wrong or right. Sometimes I wonder if my opinions to him are as unbiased as the ones I give to ordinary friends. Whenever he tells me he is on the verge of a breakup, I always feel a tinge of excitement at the prospect of him being single again. This time however, that feeling has somewhat diminished because I do not agree with the reasons he gave. Maybe it is just me and my dislike towards change.
And this is what this entry is about. Over the weekend I found my feelings for him have somewhat died. As with all things, he has changed. He is no longer the person I fell in love with. As nicotinegum suggested I think he has become a jerk. He has no respect for his boyfriend, no guilt when it comes to flaunting his fidelity and worst still from his own admittance, he no longer believes in a relationship. The very innocence that I used to adore in him has become corrupted. Don't get me wrong, it didn't get replaced, it is still there, just that it has become a mockery of what it once was. Like a rosy apple with unseen worms inside.
I am rather disappointed at the change but at the same time confused on my stand on this matter. To be honest I don't really know if I can really say my feelings for him died, I just know I don't like the way he is now. I am in no position to tell him what I feel is wrong or right. Sometimes I wonder if my opinions to him are as unbiased as the ones I give to ordinary friends. Whenever he tells me he is on the verge of a breakup, I always feel a tinge of excitement at the prospect of him being single again. This time however, that feeling has somewhat diminished because I do not agree with the reasons he gave. Maybe it is just me and my dislike towards change.
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