The Clucking Bull

The misused gift.

2012-02-03T01:30:00.002+08:00

I do not know how is this considered as a gift. Or maybe it is just me boasting but...

I write well.

I have looked over some of my emails that I sent to my ex without fail everyday during the duration of my short-lived relationship with her. I used a variety of metaphors, a plethora of amazing imagery, and probably the sweetness of the sugar market in Malaysia.. because I felt as I read it.

I didn't know I had it in me to write such exquisite rabble of words. I weaved those words not very much unlike the way one weaves intricate designs on a batik clothing. It was done with surgical precision, and it was done with the dedication that only another craftsman would appreciate. Or even lovers of art. Maybe.

As I read those past emails that I have kept (in the sent folder of my email client obviously), I was amazed at the extent of my skills. And I felt disgusted, as to why I wasted such talent, such effort in my words to such an undeserving person.
Of course, it would be really prudent to start bitching about my ex like a bitter, slapped dog. But I have already done that, and in different methods of communication of the humankind. Yes, I have talked bad about my ex in social media. I made it an issue, a bad news, with scathing words lacing it like a shrouded veil of grey on a white dress.

However, you will never find me posting about how bad a girl she was (previous post was just a lukewarm level of my verbal assault) over here. I have already damaged and stepped on my ethics as a writer. I have spat on the number one unwritten law: Do not write bad about other people, no matter how shitty they are.

So regardless, I have already, misused my talent in writing. I have written bad things about other people in such a colourful manner. And I have written beautiful things to another girl that did not in any way deserved it. And believe it my readers when I tell you, that I wrote, out of the 3 months we were together, out of the approximately 90 days, I wrote her on everyone of on those days except on a Friday and a Saturday night. Calculate. And I wrote without fail, I wrote nicely, because my personality as a writer, and the misguided dedication to an unappreciative person.

I just wanted to rant. This post is.. somewhat looking rather meaningless at this point. And no I am not under the influence of any substance or any drinks.

Inebriated posted previously on 17/1

2012-01-15T03:44:00.007+08:00

by the way, the pictorial evidence here would make some sense as you read on

As always and forever it shall be,

The title explains it all.

Yes, I am writing now with the assistance of a couple of shots of Bacardi in my system. In case there be young readers, Bacardi is rum, the type you see on that first installment of the Pirates of the Caribbean.

Not too exactly sure on what to write while being intoxicated. I don't think I am intoxicated enough just yet. I am feeling that odd inhibitor feature. That, weird sense of thinking about others. About whether they would be offended on what I am suppose to write.

I have many wonderful readers. But of course, as with my current state, I probably would write what I actually feel for the first time about the people that I see, or interact everyday. No names though, probably you readers would realize that it is you that I am describing in minute detail. Feel free to take it up with me instead of bitching about it to others, won't you?

Alright, now that the disclaimer's complete, let's move on to the main course.

The world's greatest medicine for introverts. The ultimate destroyer of the human's natural inhibition. And it was all discovered by some random Iranian scientist in back of God-knows-when. But irony aside, even Jesus advocated the use of alcohol in ceremonies; so as said that He turned water into wine for the enjoyment of a certain banquet he was attending. Sadly at the time Jews weren't so industrious; the Lord could've been used as a premier wine factory and could be sold for a lateral arm and a leg to the Romans. The wine as stated in John(2:1-11), was better than the one being served. So why not?

Told ya.

Hold on. I need another swig of liquid courage to go on writing. There. It will need 5 minutes before that injection of confidence takes effect on my head.

*approximately 10 minutes or so*

I.
AM.
STILL.
FEELING IT.

My sense of self consciousness is so strong that EVEN 5 shots of rum could not deter me to bitch about people who ruined my life.
Oh what the hell. If people don't like what I write, just come up to me and give it to me upfront. Never bother to gossip or bitch about my writings behind my back like that odd little coward underneath your grandma's skirt of insecurity like you are.

Seriously, this one girl that I have dated, for three months. We broke up. We are talking. She is dating some random white guy from Australia. I don't care. She does give a shit. She talks. I do not listen. She asks for favors. I cannot. We still talk.

Reminds me of a friend of mine with exact same characteristics. Only difference is that she is 3 years older.
So my ex, solely speaking, would turn into a slut if she ain't careful. Not that it is in my interests to care about what you think or what you do. I am not tied by any sort of social protocol to be your manservant; listening to your problems and doing shit for you. I do not call, not do I initiate a form of communication; I am not obliged to do so. For, when you broke up with me to be with that retarded 20 year old Caucasian from the land of immigrants, all loyalties, unwritten friendship clauses and agreements, obligations and trust, were broken. Burned and grounded into fine ash and scattered over the Klang river. I am not so as bitter to know that you have left me for a white guy; I have been discarded by an Indian girl for a white guy once. So it is nothing new.

Maybe I just don't like you that way anymore. Or in another way as well. That odd one that you say (or probably insist) that you are friends with me.

Damn I am feeling the headache of the intoxication.

Auf wiedersehen readers.

Regret that you have wasted your time reading.

*was actually removed to not offend someone, yes I was sober then. But this is such a compelling article, it be a shame to shelve it in the draft section*

The regular stuff i listen to.

2012-01-08T17:18:00.003+08:00

Classical, with a little rock... practically a plethora of unheard music for the hipsters out there.

Migration

2011-12-13T22:20:00.003+08:00

Ah yeah *snaps finger*

I could, publish my stories to another site. Or some of my writings of course.
There would be fellow writers and fellow readers who are there to either spew flaming criticism or probably none at all.

Those writings, in the other blog, it was dedicated to someone who I thought mattered in my life. Now that person is literally exited and with the door hitting her ass on the way out, I suppose that these sheaf of posts should be given to more perceiving, linguistic eyes.

*chuckles* of course not everything. Just the real romantic ones. More like I am showcasing my romantic writing skills, akin to peddling your handicrafts at a bazaar in Central Market, KL.
Just goes to show that I am not limited to mere general, fiction and basically boring excerpts about my life.

The post be in my Facebook but just in case.. I would monger my link here for your perusal.

http://www.fictionpress.com/~monodanee

Happy reading.

grins

2011-12-11T00:12:00.003+08:00

I wonder if I should delete the other blog..

or

.. publish it in a public manner and advertise it so the whole world would know about it?

But of course,
I would tell that... wait a second.

I don't think I want to publish it at all.

Deleting it.

Das Angst

2011-12-10T23:46:00.002+08:00

Here's a little truth to invade your mind;

I thrive on hate.
It gives me life. It powers up my perception, my common sense to a lot of things.

Or to be more apt, hate sustains my life and made me who I am today. A lot of things I have achieved, with hate fueling my desire like a potent, poisonous drug.
But the problem with me feeling hate at times is, well, it conflicts with other "human" nature of mine. The unnecessary nature of thinking about others, the baggage of concern. It weighs my true potential as I do not want to offend people, or create a strife between us, no matter how much hatred and loathing I feel for that particular individual.

And such conflict, I have found, is destructive.

Two opposite opinions, each in their own polarity, is ripping my sanity sideways. And the pity is that, it happens all the time, most of the time. My judgement is impaired, everything seems to be cloudy, and there is that constant need to talk to someone about your brimming aversion to that individual.

It happened to me once before way back then. Around.. 8 years ago to be exact. I wanted to hate that person so bad, but I was afraid to offend. And thus, this ripped the fabric of my sanity in pieces, turning into a mute shell. Not gone off completely to full retard mind, but it was enough to let people know something had set off in my head.
I wasn't myself.

And it is happening again.
I fear for myself really. I wonder how long would it take before I would launch myself in front of a speeding train, or on electrocuted train tracks. Because,

It is driving me insane.

Only loud metal growls and heavy guitar riffs are able to anesthetize my head from being a full on suicidal psycho. Among that, food and a minimal desire to live.

I am afraid.

Never

2011-12-01T21:47:00.002+08:00

Raise my hopes up.

But then again.

With this annoying plethora of emotions that are seared since I learned to speak,

I would always raise my hopes and get shot down.

Again and again.

And life goes on.

totally random

2011-11-19T03:16:00.004+08:00

He walked into the place. The place that had the flashing lights. The lights, mesmerizing him, as if beckoning him to take step by another step into a pseudo promised land.
The rank, dusty smell of cigarette smoke envelops his being; he took a gulp inadvertently as he drank the surroundings around him. People we chanting, laughing, screaming; it was a fiesta of emotions in that enclosed space.
Suddenly a shrill bell knock him into reality. And there he was, clad in completely black. Black T-shirt, black jacket, and black sneakers and slacks to complement a rather funereal look. He believed the colour would ward him off evil spirits. He was superstitious like that.

Another step, and he was taking large, leisurely strides.
He stops at a table.
There were money being tossed, cards being put out, and people looking forlorn (with some having a focused look about them). He stood and watched. A person sat across the table, wearing some sort of a uniform. The person dealt the cards, with a monotonous, unfeeling look on her face. And then came the abrupt sighs and curses in a variety of East Asian languages as the person took all the money that was placed on the table.

He was in a casino.

A place where dreams are often brought to survive and to shatter at the same time. A place, where dreams and nightmare walk hand in hand. A place, to completely beguile even the most smartest human being to waste his hard earned cash, or savings, to a complete stranger that cares little of your welfare.

The black clad dude, carrying a sum that he had just withdrawn from a bank, hoping to strike it lucky again. The crisp currency, sitting barely folded in his wallet, was thrown onto the table for an exchange for a couple of casino chips.
The dealer counts it, checks it for forgery with a UV sensor, and then prepares the appropriate amount of chips for the black clad dude. The dude accepts it, and soon he places the money onto the table, expecting a straight win.
But alas; luck was not on his side. He stared forlornly as the dealer took away the chip he has staked, but he would not be deterred. He put another. With the thoughts of this loss is just a mere fluke of sorts. He would recoup that initial loss and gain a straight run of wins.

Again, the result was as brutal as it can get.
He lost his capital in less that 5 minutes. He looked at the dealer for some sort of inspiration; the poker visage stared at him back with an unfeeling cruelty, offering zero sympathy.
Soon the black clad dude would do it again, and he would lose more than he thought possible.
And the cycle is repeated until he would have nothing left to go on with.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And that is how an average day at a casino is like.
For literally anyone.
People, although losing, they would just go on and on to believe that they would regain what they have lost. Luck does play a part in gambling, but instinct and self awareness about what is happening, and the obvious common sense to stop while you're really ahead, or really going down.

Believe it or not, when you have won aplenty, do get the hell out of there. Take a smoke, a drink somewhere or something.
They, the gambling conglomerate, would want nothing more than to regain their losses from you particularly. No one likes losing. And so are these guys. Although say, they lost a thousand to you, they'd very much like it back. Just as much as you lost a hundred, you'd want it back too.

The amount of stories that I have read alone while going around the Internet, horror ones.
Some fool lost 35 thousand ringgit and only had around 100 bucks left all in all because of his habit of not wanting to stop.

So.
Gambling is not fun.
Unless you're some oil baron, conglomerate, rich foreigner, etc
Not for students, or idiots who think they can make it big after winning a mediocre amount.

A poem, generated from stormy thoughts

2011-09-19T20:56:00.001+08:00

She is what I would call,
A cocaine, a drug that makes us crawl,
But I have never taken any at all,
Not that I would know of, at least I think that's all,
Fragile, white, like a porcelain doll,
Intoxicating me with a presence, enough to make me fall,
Like cocaine, like alcohol,
She is addictive, she's nice, she's a beautiful sight, I recall

But that was the beginning, my audience,
She have bathed me in her radiance,
She have showered me in happiness,
She has left me breathless,
For I could not believe that anyone, for once,
would want someone as worthless,
as ridiculous, as mediocre in appearance,
Like a person like me, it slaps me with an unholy force.

But slowly, these days, now and then,
I have these inherent thinking where and when,
Or what will happen,
Should the day comes when we would split, be broken,
Like a twig under a summer's sun,
crushed underneath the legs of children,
And strangers we shall be, decidedly being different,
A word, an email, seldom be penned,
Not anymore, not for her,
And our lives will be back as before,
Where I am living the average, cold, restrained,
And she would be in another nation,
Because we wouldn't be meant,
for each other should that ever happen.

But by golly, my unfaithful audience,
I would be damned in all sense,
If I would ever let her go just like that, with zero reasons,
Would we be friends?
Would we, like before, together, like before the fence,
That barred us, a guard with its spiking green lance,
The only thin line of defense,
Against the feelings that are immense,
And let the climbing commence,
As I drop all of my fear, my pretense,
To see you on the other side of the fence.

I would never let that happen,
I do not want it to end,
Were it within my domain,
of power, I would fight, I would restrain,
I would receive the pain,
I would not care whether I go insane,
Or be whacked to death by a stalk of sugar cane,
I still want to be with you, to be in the train,
Ignoring every Dick and Harry and Jane,
And sit with your head on my shoulder, your beautiful mane,
The warmth of your body, like spark on methane,
The heat of the flames, like a summer in Spain.

It is about mosquitoes actually.

2011-07-31T03:25:00.000+08:00

I would like to honestly state here, amid the darkness that has blanketed my room, I am frankly irritated.
Irritated at the fact, that insects are flocking to my computer screen, which is the only thing that is actually bright in the entire room.

Actually, there shouldn't even be such insects. Light insects, I dub them, are crawling through the screen like it is some kind of Animal Planet show their missing on the screen. Or like a makeshift, walk on the cinema kind of fad among light insects.
Imagery aside, why are there even such insects roaming on my screen?

I lived here for more than two years, and I have never experienced such insects on my screen in the middle of the night. Oh wait, I think I know why.
You see, there are two windows in the room that I am living in. And apparently, my room is located on the part of the building where it is facing this huge ass tree, all green and roots sticking out and all that. Let me see.. with trees that size, and it is the thing that is in front of your window, surely there is that odd one or two weird insects that come in for an excursion or claim permanent residency in some dark recess of the cupboards in my room, or that lonely shelf, or that wall corner.

And considering the ridiculous one track, fickle minded weather of the equatorial country I live in, the tree that is looming right in front me could well be breeding ground for God's most little joke: mosquitoes.
And not considering other wildlife that haunt the the tree, like bats, weird ass birds, giant moths (the big black ones that seem to just get stuck on the wall, never flying away) that might be thinking of placing their lodgings with their six generations together under my bed. I am surprised there isn't an actual biological orgy going under my bed at the moment.

So why all the unnecessary documentation of wildlife that is literally around me? You see, there are two, TWO windows in each room. Simple open and shut contraptions. Push to open, pull to close, and there is that odd latch to seal it tight. The most effective barrier, the wall, the unyielding shield against these hapless insects.

Only. If it is closed.
Open, it is like Chinese New Year for all the 8392373567 insects + whatever organisms that has wings or light enough to be blown in.
And if considered that I am too lazy to close the window, and to assume that pulling that curtain, somewhat a surrogate window, will protect me from all those weird ass insects from sharing my bed and breakfast.
I am oh boy, so wrong.

Mosquitoes in particular, are the prime bitches, the culmination of all things annoying and evil and ridiculously.. annoying. They are literally invisible until you feel that odd itch on where it last bit you. And in a place like mine, on a bad day, you will feel like Nosferatu's discarded meal thanks to an armada of mosquitoes thinking its Thanksgiving.

All because I left the window open.
I closed the window from then on.

But no, my room mate, bless him. He is doesn't get bitten as often as I do.
and he leaves his window WIDE OPEN.
And I become the unwilling blood sacrifice from 2am to 6am.
And the cycle repeats itself.

The Shieldtox/Insect Repellent in a can is standing by. Waiting for its pressurized, poisoned content to be breathed by the insects that are retarded enough to take a meal out of me.

mistakes.

2011-07-29T01:09:00.002+08:00

Often in this life, we anything but infallible from making mistakes. However, there is that moment in time, we will not realize that we have made that odd grave mistake, until it hits us squarely back in the chops.

Oh yes, we will make that mistake, it will be dormant. It will be living inside the very core of your brain, feeding off on more related events and rises at the most appropriate moment. To literally stab you with the reality that has resulted from that tiny little action that you have done so long ago.

But I wouldn't go as far as to say that I have committed such a mistake. No.
I just was giving it a thought.
The mistakes, or more my actions, have made me into that being today. I have no regrets. And stuff that I am supposed to say in order to make this sound cheesy.

a short shrift

2011-07-27T07:41:00.003+08:00

I am sure there are those times, when you just look at your older posts and go, "damn! did I really write that?"
Just because it was really good.
No I am not kidding, I have read some of my older posts, in another blog (in which you guys won't ever get to you pretty much apologies) , that I still couldn't believe I wrote all that tripe.

Not that I am blowing my own trumpet mind, but I do think my past work are the equivalent of some Literature Prize on some level. I wonder where all those metaphors, imagery, the string of sentences that could provoke even the mildest of thoughts, the notions that could stir the very hem of your common sense to think.

I amaze myself sometimes.

And sorry for the month hiatus though.

Here's something unrelated for your perusal:

Happy trails!

the return.

2011-06-28T07:18:00.002+08:00

It has been.. nearly a week??

At least the very first thing I can do at this moment is.. apologize?
I am sorry? Pardon for the imminent, unexpected although intentional, absence?

My dear ladies and gents, the readers that peruse my blog, you will be getting none from me. I doubt I am in some contract with Google or with any of my readers whatsoever to produce writings at least once a week or even twice. I don't live by that code. I write at my own leisure.

Of course I do have another blog out there that I need to maintain as well, but that place is hardly has the kind of material that is suitable for your eyes. No I am not even suggesting subversive messages or even adult/violence themed nonsense that is contained in the other blog of mine.
Let us just say that it is the very place that I write all my deepest and darkest thoughts, or my true 100%, unadulterated self complete with a barrage of swear words and choice cynical imagery. Like the Mr.Hyde of this cheery, albeit sarcastic blog of mine.

But I would be honest with you about something: I have been writing quite a lot since that date, but just all that materials haven't reached here actually.
And, my priorities have changed drastically over the past couple of weeks so.. yeah. Take a hint.
What would drive a man from regular blog posting at a rate of 3 posts a week to now, a fortnightly basis?

Food for thought, my dear readers.

Eins,

2011-06-16T10:34:00.000+08:00

Read THIS loud and clear idiots.

Let it swim, lodge itself and grow parasitically in your mind as it feeds on the knowledge that I am not. When it is full, you will finally comprehend that I am not the passive freak that I used to be. That will be the time you will expect a lot of changes, none of them pleasant.

Take a step back, and look how "good" how "kind" I was. Look at those pictures carefully, as I thrust a lighted match in your hand, for you to toss it towards those imagery I have built up over the years. Watch it burn, watch it disintegrate, and watch a new image is being painted as the old one is being burned away.

My error of this life is, is that I have been doing things for people, and not for myself. I have been a slave for every fool, a bitch for everyone to use and to exploit, and even spat at my face.

Let it be known to you everlasting actors in this stage of life, that I am literally taking a stand now. Hate me if you must you freaks, because that's what I am going to be for the remainder of my life until the headstones rest nicely at the foot of my six feet farm in a cemetery somewhere. If I want to be remembered, I want to be remembered as someone who was kind and at the same time, didn't take shit from anyone enough for them to use me again.

Record your watches, mark your calendars, as this is the moment the niceties are over.
I will lacerate you verbally or physically even if you try to ask me to do something. If there is nothing in it for me, pleasantly fuck off towards the other way please.
Never expect a constructive comment. You will be asking for the worst where my opinions are concerned.

Die in a blazing inferno, to all who seek my help and to not compensate me for it.
Perish in a burning car accident, with your legs stuck in the door and the petrol is burning up fast and you will expire in a burning coffin, slowly, painfully and definitely excruciatingly.

No one will save you from my words. My common sense will trump all of your bitch reasonings and shit excuses.
If you are expecting me to be nice and polite from now on, please bang your head on the wall and bleed while screaming yourself because that is what you will be doing THE MOMENT MY VOICE IS HEARD IN YOUR EARS.

End.
Don't go expecting my words to be half as flattering as this anytime ever.

Opinions about everything and nothing (Condensed)

2011-05-09T23:50:00.002+08:00

On people who post about subject registration even though I haven't registered yet,

"Oh please la, as if you are the only bugger in the entire freaking MMU that is so excited about registering for the next semester subjects. Of course la, dah la your course so easy, it being MANAGEMENT, and us engineering students aren't as fortunate like all of you to get A's for entire semester. Do me a favour: shut up."

On a roomie who, has a gaming machine,

"Bro, you have a flipping strong gaming monster, it doesn't mean that you have to put every setting in games to HIGH or ADVANCED or I CAN SEE CHIN HAIR kind of detail. It will tax out your graphic card faster than a student in an engineering faculty studying for his finals."

About boyfriends - Ones that are being commanded by their girls

"Hey man, look, I know she didn't want you to buy that PS3 game. But why she didn't want you to buy it?
Huh? You mean she just don't want you to buy it? Don't care la, just go Toys R Us and buy it! Still you cannot?
Ok tell you what, let's book a ticket for two to Bangkok and a reservation for one at a plastic surgeon to have your balls removed. Don't worry, I'll pay.. its for your own good. Until you can stand up to your gal, your proof of fatherhood will remain in that jar of formaldehyde over there. Yeah, in the Donations section."

About the current heatwave in Cyberjaya, Seremban, Penang, etc,

" Why is it so hot?? Mau terbakar okay. Even shirts off, doors open, windows wider than a Najib's election smile, it still as blazing as holy hell. Rasa macam want to break open a bomba pipe and shower myself. Or even to take my pillows and blanket to camp out at MMU's library air-conditioned foyer."

On the recent price hike on sugar,

"If our prices are still low compared to other SEA countries, lets keep it that way? Or the saved money from cutting back subsidies because you need another RM100 million to keep your wife's wig on her head is that it? Eh, Najib?
Also, I wouldn't be surprised if a regular nasi goreng would cost RM10 in the future, a teh o ais limau will cost rm5. "

A tribute, and a letter

2011-05-08T20:40:00.004+08:00

This post I solely dedicate to.. my mother.

I can't believe I became an asshole twice over at the eve of Mother's day. This post is just but a small expression of me begging for forgiveness as well as wishing a Happy Mother's Day.

I am not a poet, I am hardly a talented writer. I write as a form of expression, like how people play music to express themselves as well as art.

Today, I want to express what I feel to my mother, in this little corner of the Internet, and hope for her to see it to forgive me and bless me for my examination in the coming days.

Dear Mummy,

I am sorry for all the trouble I have caused lately. Although I have meant this many times, I still repeat it over and over again. Sometimes I wonder why, when I fight back and retaliate with you and Paps, I feel so horrible when I think about it not too long later. Especially the times where I would just keep quiet and let my ego get the better of me and hence preventing me from asking for forgiveness.

Although I am 23 as of now, I still act like a child in front of the both of you. Who wouldn't? Anyone, old or young when their parents are with them, they are bound to be childish somewhat, to feel their parents love as they always did.

I want to ask for your dear forgiveness again my dear mother, on this sacred day dedicated to all mothers. I am so sorry, I really do, as I recall back the moments yesterday. Maybe I am the only son in this entire planet that does not wish his mother a Happy Mother's Day with a gift.

I remember the times you put up with my anger and my stubbornness, and take it with a calm way even as I shout back and ignore your calls. I regret all those moments.
I just want you back. I never want to rebel again, I promise. God help me in succeeding that.

I just want to be comforted by your loving words and arms again, like a mother would. The times when you would cook, clean the house even when I am around, I don't appreciate it. I didn't appreciate the times I had being with all of you, the times we laughed together watching movies.

I am not perfect whatsoever I know. I always try to be better, to be someone that you can be proud of in the future.

I want to say I am really sorry, Mummy.
And A Happy Mother's Day.

Please Forgive me....

Your son (eldest),
Danny
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Delving deeper into a devilish shadow.

2011-05-02T00:43:00.002+08:00

I am sure we had our times when we literally danced with the devil itself. It terms of dancing, I mean as if in committing unspeakable acts that even the mind refuses to believe it.

The devil was literally in my soul tonight, when I seriously did it.
I wished it was murder, or even the befouling of some sanctified place or entity. I truly have sunk deep. Deep indeed to the depths where I could even barely see my own hands.

The feeling after you committed it.. it consumes you like a blazing inferno, engulfing your literal being, leaving you naked towards the harsh, realistic truth of the matter.

I did it.

But where was my mind when I committed it?
It wasn't there.
It was replaced by a darker, more twisted and crazier replica of my lateral thoughts; it completely substituted me for the time I was covered by awful sin.

It is scary when I think about it. It was barely moments ago.
But the guilt, grips me like a vise, torturing me with its painful needles into the very hem of my soul, and the sound of accusation rang loud, reverberating in a jarring endless screech.
It hasn't stopped. Even as I write.

I wouldn't think, what was I thinking then?
Because I have thought that a plenty times, and it didn't stop me from doing it again. And again. And again.

These vile doings of mine. Will ever it be forgiven?
Honestly, even I can't look at myself the same way again.

Funny how desperation of the matter leads you to do very inhumane acts.

I beg for forgiveness once again, from the Lord who is merciful. Cleanse me with thy blood, and make me clean and sanctified from all things evil.
I pray to you, make me strong, give me the strength to combat these unholy desires. I am sick of it all. I want.. to be free.

I want to be normal again..
I want to be... a regular person..

The rare lightbulb post. about marriage and an msn conversation.

2011-05-01T01:04:00.001+08:00

I am definitely not used to posting blog posts within the half an hour after I have already posted one.

For a socially awkward person like me, who even refuses to say hi at any new stranger he adds, it can be considered as an act of desperation to garner attention in a subliminal manner.

Didn’t understand what I wrote there? Neither did I.

This post comes as a culmination from a 10 minute conversation with a friend regarding weddings and love. I, being the silly puppet of fate, reminisced about a time where I used to picture weddings of my crush. About 5 years ago, when I was young and stupid as well as liking this particular female, like hell.

In any case, I actually imagined the wedding; gardens, cakes, flowers, white dresses, crying parents, jeering friends... and then came the worst part.

I imagined life after wedding, and how would it be like living with her and stuff in the household. F*cking imagine that would you? I mean, at that time, I would say it was all candies and spice. But now, down the road of adulthood with more common sense and life lessons unwillingly driven into my mind, *shudder* I solemnly think of marriage’s unpleasant consequences to me when I eventually end up with her, or even anyone else.

Pardon the usage of crude words in my post. It was, a necessary evil.

Also, I ache to write about my friend’s wedding moments. Truly, anyone who watched the royal wedding on live TV, would imagine what would that moment be when they eventually get shackled, balls to chain for life.

At this point in reading, you would actually surmise the fact that this post is basically demonizing marriage. The pact between two humans, sanctified and revered by God, the Son and The Holy Spirit, may it last forever and until death do them apart.

I would want to quote that last part, the ‘till death to us part, that sentence yeah. The groom, or even bride, that utters those fateful binding words, is bound to each other like Faust did to Lucifer. Later in their marriage they would realize that they would be actually aiming for that little, yet infamous quote. By actually dying. Who dies first? Leave it to the husband and tehe wife after years of marriage turmoil. Affairs, money, children, even relatives could be the cause of that turmoil.

Ok, back to my friend’s situation. She, being obviously a female, because only girls who are madly in love these days could only fantasize that kind of nonsense. You don’t hear guys spouting to his dudes in an Irish bar about how his future bride will be like, wearing what, where it will be held, and the whole nine yards. If he eventually did, which is most probably out of exhilaration of getting his first girlfriend, he would be jeered and probably get whacked in the balls for uttering ridiculous nonsense in front of the fellow single guys in the bar, or guys who want time out from the wife at home.

Why do I keep railing off track?? Back to her. *fumes*

She fantasized about a wedding, after watching the royal Brits getting knotted at somewhere in London. I can tell you, she would’ve gone on about the dresses that she is going to get if I hadn’t told her about my a long dead experience with me imagining myself. Scroll back up for actual details.

So, she imagined a wedding at a beach, or a garden, and with a wedding dress that is definitely prettier than the British royal bride, and how long her hair would be at that point. I foolishly added my imagination about my former crush, and somehow this post is birthed through those two ideas literally intercourse with one another and conceived a ridiculous rant.

Not much I wrote eventually. I am never much of a wedding person. Considering if you found out rather recently.

Long Awaited? Unlikely.

2011-04-30T23:54:00.002+08:00

It has been sometime, I admit, since I actually wrote something here.
It has only been a week and by my reckoning, it has been far too long indeed.

What, you were expecting something factual, or a curse-laced rambling about... something?

Anyway, I'd like to give whatever little readers here a small preview about an upcoming historical novel that I am actually writing. I have been thinking about writing something that is related to the Malaysian history, which is during the time where Malacca was at its prosperous era. It is about an European guy that sets foot in the Malay Peninsula for the first time in 1509, and well, about the events that eventually led to the conquest of Malacca by the Portuguese.

Drab.

I know.

But I was considering something along the lines of this dude, where he helped the crummy Malaccan ruler at the time, Sultan Mahmud Shah from screwing things royally (pardon the pun) and therefore, create a parallel universe which is based on the prevented Portuguese attack. And from then on, I will weave my magic and see how the Malaccan Sultanate ends or it prospers.

Or, I might just use that history as my backdrop, and construct something that is very Dan Brown-esque, with a historical relic, assassin, nerdy professor, intelligent foreign chick, the whole nine yards. Apparently that seems to be the formula for most mystery-relic-running across countries kind of stories that I read..

And then, I would form a historical backdrop and modern day Malaysia, transitioning between each other as the story progresses..

Or,

You know what, do hand me your suggestions and I will try to make sense of them as I am trying with my mind at the moment. I could use some help. Who knows, when I actually get this thing published, YOUR name, yes, I repeat, YOUR name, will be at the first page. Some sort of dedication if you will.

Alright...
Going to continue my research into the history of Malacca with the aid of the Internet (once again).

But seriously though, if this project does seriously take flight, I may have to actually consult scholars on Malaysian history and do a little museum visits. Let's see how it goes..

See ya.

Review and some other...

2011-04-21T01:44:00.002+08:00

Frankly, I don't write reviews.

I deem reviews are basically is just one man's opinion about something that people can fall back upon. Reviews about movie, music, even literature, practically dot the seemingly volatile condition of the mass media in the present. Reviews are would, say, something to become a point of reference before anyone would buy a music CD, or a book, or even to purchase a movie ticket. Or in this Internet-slash-Piracy age, the aforementioned items are easily obtained from the vast recesses of the Net.

But piracy and its symbolic greatness of freedom against oppression, is hardly the thing that I would want to elaborate at this moment in time.

My opinion on reviews has been basically the same - not credible and hardly represents the actual value of said items. Hence that's why I do not write reviews. I face the possibility of my writing to be dismissed by some Bieber freak or ripped to shreds by a Twitard.

However, I have read something special that is written by a dear friend, and it somehow drove me to write something about it. Honestly, this friend of mine, a girl, she didn't want me to read her works before and now I still wonder why she let me read this time round. The written material in question is, an obituary that is supposedly an assignment.

Let me blunt for a moment here; obituaries are depressing and hardly the kind of thing you want to read on a Sunday morning. In the newspapers, I doubt anyone would want to flip to the obituaries section in the actual time you get it moments after being tossed by the paperboy in the morning. It's either the sports section or the front page.

There I go again, railing off the track on purpose.

What's different about this particular obituary is that, it is written with a passion so fiery and loving at the same time. It is a work of someone who had loved and lived with the departed and misses her dearly. The language needless to say, it is flawless, with a lot of touching phrases in line with quotes from infamous individuals. But, the selling point of this obituary is that, the emotions that conveyed in every each sentence. As I read, the emotions reached out to me with its caressing fingers, and snaked into the dark recesses of my inner emotions and practically, moved me to bits.

In a light moment, stuff like this are only written with the assistance of Hans Zimmer's Davy Jones Theme. Sombre and somehow uplifting.

That is how the obituary was. The writer did not lament the loss of her dear departed so grievously, but at the same time writes about her deeds and how everyone misses her. Admittedly, it was something that I would want someone to write about me when I actually leave this oh so cruel world.. Morbid much?

If only the lecturer that graded her essay/obituary could read this dear post of mine. I would adjure her to actually give this piece of work a standing ovation in class, and of course a highly distinctive recognition to it. If her lecturer didn't, and assuming the lecturer is a female, I would personally regard this "qualified" person as another cold, heartless academician that only regards flowery words and "witty" phrases. Like there isn't enough already from British comedians or shockingly unfunny Malaysian comedians.

Wrapping this up, I would say to you, my dear writer, continue writing! And keep at it! You are seriously, stupendously amazing.

Common Complaints

2011-04-14T01:23:00.005+08:00

I SERIOUSLY,

Got to get this out of my mind immediately before it actually burns a part of the sane storage device of physical being; my brain.

The part where common sense and tolerance go hand in hand and function together.

My room mate, even after a food poisoning incident in which, I helped him to get to the hospital in Putrajaya. Wheeled him all the way in the wheelchair and even called the transport to get us back and forth from the hostel and there.

If it is not for that event, I doubt we will even have remote conversation beyond the occasional "off the lights?" or " I borrow _____".

Now, at least we are having some conversation. About games and general stuff. And not very often as he is always, I repeat, ALWAYS on his PC whenever he was in the room. Most of the time MSN-ing with his girlfriend or playing some high-end games.

At this point I must sound like a jealous, scorned girlfriend who was left dumped by her happy go lucky dude at the mall because he wanted to play pool or a kopitiam session at the local mamak shop.

Even I wouldn't even consider writing this here, you know. But things have actually stretched to the point where I am actually getting irritated because of his behavior. Which, are listed in a few eloquent points below:

-Switching on ridiculously loud gaming noises from your PC?

I know you have subjects that relate to game designing and requires you to expend hours of your life in a day dedicated to gaming. But, it would be far more preferable if you kept the sounds to your own ears. I am pretty sure technology has significantly improved especially in terms of expelling garbage to your ears and making you deaf before you turn 40.

Or... wait a minute! You spent 4 grand on that gaming rig itself, don't tell me they didn't even provide you with a headphone? Those lying basta*ds! They ripped you off! Even a tiny headphone?? Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo~ that's not the way to do business man...

Keep the gaming developing process to yourself. Please. Us engineering students have a future to look to.

-Unplugging my LAN cable SPECIFICALLY from the router.

Just mine. That little blue cable.
So the line with is supposed to be SHARED and whatever little bandwidth that is provided, is entirely scoffed by his fervent, almost religious downloading and uploading activity. In which I can surmise, an important task, given the amount of games he download and upload daily.

As a frequent user of blogging and actual socializing and some minor downloading, I find it is a rather very distasteful attempt to hoard the entire trickle of downloading speed to yourself. Do spare some for the Banana Chinese that uses only a laptop in the corner of the room eh?

-Throwing his clothes around to even my part of the room.

See, this is where gets thoroughly irritating. I am pretty sure it is rather disturbing and absolutely mortifying to see an undergarment in the part where you reside in a shared hostel room. As with these little undergarments (note I am using it in a plural form. Use your imagination), it is horrid enough for me to come back after a long day and actually stepping on one.

Leaves much to the imagination, isn't it? And I agree wholly, the feeling is not a pleasant one.

- Switching off the room lights inadvertently without warning.

Picture this: You are lying down in bed after a long night completing assignments and have just studied for an upcoming midterm. All you want is a good rest. And you pick up a favourite novel at your bedside, (romance, thriller, twilight) to read, and to relax you to sleep. As you are already, literally into the novel in a leisurely manner, darkness practically embraces you in its unfeeling arms and you are ripped away from the fantasy world. And in that instant, you are jolted back roughly into reality, and of course, cranky and annoyed.

It does not help with the slumber at all whatsoever.
Instead, it leaves you with seething tongue and unpleasant thoughts of fury.

So, with all that, you can actually come to the conclusion where my room mate treats the room like he actually rented it wholly from the university. For his personal purpose.

So my life here actually, its comparable to the way the Soviet system or the Nazis treated their people. With me being the common public in question.

Fun = Liberal Thinking = Rebellion

or

Books = Freedom Of Mind = Different Ideology = Rebellion

In America, you look at the mirror. In Soviet Russia, Mirror looks at you!
In France, you read a book. In Nazi Germany, Book READS you!

An excuse

2011-04-11T00:28:00.007+08:00

Ok I bluffed about the 1 week timeline.

I just need to get my mind of certain things, like some vices...

Ahem.

I just utilized the Internet to whatever potential it had today.

I found out the solutions for my in-a-week due assignment. It involved computer coding, some programming skills.

But I couldn't just copy it, no. So there is still some work to be done after all, and it doesn't seem that I am much interested in doing it at the moment.

Oh dear.
What is to become of me?

I am thinking of changing the title of my blog though. To something that is more catchy and probably that is not as abstract as the current one or immature as my previous ones.

Also,

There is simply something very degrading about the way I wrote my little phrase beneath the blog title.

"The less you know about this life, the better"

I just discovered how funny it sounds.
The less you know about who's life exactly? And why is it better?
Not as if it can get any better even if we know it. And why we want to know it?

And my revolution is still in progress.

Cultural revolution

2011-04-09T18:12:00.003+08:00

Out with the introductory sequence I would say, at least nowadays. Because I just realized its somewhat homosexual to greet your readers, if there ARE any readers AND they are either male or female.

Or it is somewhat retarded or gila, when I greet something that doesn't exist.

Dispensing with the greetings, oh and one more thing.

I barely would want, especially now, to introduce what I am writing, like a summary behind JK Rowling books that barely explains the gist of the entire cerita. Which is very much what I have been doing since this little rant spot was birthed in somewhere the year 2006 because of an emotional breakdown or some teenage angst phase I am going through at that time.

Somewhat a cultural revolution that is happening here in this undistinguished, backwater, caved in, Sanctum-like spot of the 8th-circle of the Internet.

I have been doing some thinking as of late.

My little posts, are they boring? Are they the by-product of a low self esteemed teenager who wants to get back at society? Is this a stepping stone for a favoured writing career in a Malay spoken country?

Although I do adjure you to ignore the next two lines at that particularly explanatory paragraph.

Not that my content is uninteresting.

No.

Maybe is irrelevant to write about German music for the local Malaysians who, just plain gravitate to whatever local music they can grab with their pirated feelers within again, the Internet.

And maybe, it is rather incorrect to write my little depressed moments, ones that I am feeling down. You know, if you actually read it, ones that I will do something about it but in reality I never actually do?
Indeed. If people had a depressing article fetish they'd just go visit Berita Harian or Harian Metro site or just buy a Malay love novel. It is far easier to comprehend those materials rather than spending half the time comprehending what I wrote.

And lastly, I would probably want to stop crafting stories and actually posting it here. As said by a fellow writer and a reader (Hi there!), it is far more likely to get plagarised by some mud-eating secondary school drop out who's desperate for even the most mediocre of materials on the internet. Of course, ones that doesn't have a Copyright insignia or a copyright claim by the author.

I would beg to differ here, as my story, full of holes as it is, would be probably would pass on ignored, being granted an extra invisibility feature by Google. Seeing as I don't place their ads, they decided upon a free and exciting feature which I would loved to be applied on my physical being, which is invisibility.

Ah and FINALLY, probably the last and the most important part of my little semi-cultural revolution of my blog.

It is the part where I said I would continue my posts soon.

I sooner believed that I would continue them as Hitler would've given himself willingly to the Allies, or our glorious PM ceding power to his opposition counterpart.
To perpetuate an actual post here is a seemingly daft effort as I surmised.

Or as much eloquently I would put it, I will mean what I say.

That's it for the declaration of a language revolution here in this post.

AND

I would actually post something next week.

Oh and a little satire moment:

Absentia. And music. Mostly music.

2011-03-21T11:56:00.004+08:00

Finally found the time to write something after all.

For starters, I discovered a hidden gem of an artist - Silbermond. German Pop. If you impartial to foreign music (notably European) THEY ARENT FOR YOU. Nein? Because I lately discovered that listening to foreign songs especially Russian, or German ones, are sort of an acquired taste.

*Singer's kinda cute too =D*

No really, it is.

The people that I know listen to these languages are countable with a single hand, maybe even less than that.

I heard many comments regarding the German songs especially, as it is my most favourite language at this point.

- This sounds like bad English.

- Sound like a distorted version of English.

- How can you listen to this?

I have no idea too. It is an acquired taste. Just like eating raw salmon sushi or grilled eel.

Rather I want to ask the people who assaulted me with those kinds of questions; when the music is good, should the language matter at all?

I would've got some very interesting replies had they weren't busy tuning into the English twaddle that is desecrating the airwaves these days.

If you haven't heard, go and listen to Rebecca Black's Friday on youtube. You will witness what is I call the beginning of the end of what music used to be.

In layman's terms, music is devolving back to its prehistoric state where cavemen howl and bang their heads on stone (just an assumption though).

So seriously, I recommend STRONGLY, listen to foreign songs, as they might be the only salvation for your ears.

Oh wait, I know you're thinking: What's with him being a hater towards good music?

Dear reader, if that thought be entering your collapsible mind, bless you child. You're young. There is much to learn in the world.

Ok no.

Bye.

p.s: That' artist's songs, are all in German. Try it!!

Resume-ing, -ed

2011-02-23T19:05:00.003+08:00

Not going to exactly apologize. Not me, not for being absent from the internet blogging universe.

Then again, who am I going to apologize to exactly?

Maybe that one reader, and yes I am sorry for being MIA these past few weeks.

Don't know what to write exactly, just to speak that these few weeks have been quite rocky, none plain sailing in any way possible.

Or if you really want a clue of what happened for the last few weeks, here it is:

Can't be more specific than that.

See you soon!

Despair.Failure.Expectations

2011-01-06T05:14:00.002+08:00

Wow. I am literally on the brink of euthanasia. Towards myself.
It is sort of a mercy on myself and the lives around me I suppose.

I realized I have sunk deeper than deep into the callous mire of failure. Imagine that, I never felt as useless like this in this entire 2-bit life of mine.

Uninteresting, not even half as good looking, shy, callous humor, can't even write well, and can't even make a good lasting impression on friends.

Study wise? I am killing myself. I am doing something I literally hate. I have no idea how many times I have written this at all in my posts. Gosh, I must really despise what I am studying at the moment.

And even now in the dead of the night, I can still write about this. Why? I need to let this out before these pent up feelings consume me and my life as well. Really. I never felt this close to the Reaper's scythe ever by will before. I was always the cheerful kind. I took things lightheartedly. Although things looked bad, I would always look at it in a positive manner, I things would be solved.

Now, I have entered a zone where impossible seems to be the very trend when it comes to scoring good marks for my subjects. It seems grades are the very measure of friendship in this university life; not good grades, can't talk well, you are best left alone.
Too smart, and people would shy away from you, only treating you like an accessory when things need to be done.

However, it is the darkest before dawn. The problem with studying your hardest for anything, working your hardest for anything in this life. It is that when you do all that, your end result sometimes will end with nothing, or it yields a small fraction of the effort that was put in. A real put off. This happened to me, and it is rather a dispirited effect to the mind. The mind will be led into thinking that the only door is open is failure. Because even if you worked your hardest, yet you're not rewarded accordingly, what is exactly the point of striving?

And then my parents. I am a guy, yet, I cried when I heard they still had hopes for me, even when I know that I am taking a one way direction towards failure. How does that make you feel? There is no other feeling in this world like that. My parents love me so much, I am blessed to even have such wonderful parents. Failure after failure in my life, yet my parents still think that I have it in me to succeed one day.

But yet. I still remain the failure I am. The ugly duckling that never grew up.

Enough.

Not related to the New Year whatsoever. Wait, it somehow does.

2011-01-02T17:44:00.003+08:00

Greetings.

This is the first post I have written (in a while) that is NOT something about a story of a wasteland that is so close to home.

That's it for preview.

Part of me would want to wish my reader(s) a New Year greeting, but the lack of responses (or bodies) that I have noticed for some time, compels me to do so. (Or take this statement as a New Year greeting if you would)

Life has been quite the b*tch the past year. 2010. It was a year that I was willing to forget. Wasted opportunities, girls, choice in friends (and studies T_T). Compressing those, it was an all round streak of horrible (and contemplate-able) decisions. Even I sit here and wonder as I pen this (or type), why am I even here at all? Not saying that Engineering isn't my passion, but actually writing is.

Look at how I take the time of a beautiful but rainy, Sunday evening just to pen a senseless blog. Where I could've hunkered down to the library, shut down my computer, and pore over illegible writings and write down even more illegible formulas. If it was vice versa, I tell you now. I could've reached the heights of even entering a Dean's List, scholarships abound, offers to study overseas in droves waiting for the stroke of my pen.

*sigh*

Sadly writing is considered a "non-paying" job or "not-enough income" and maybe "who would want to employ you" statements from EVERYONE in this third world minded country. Sometimes I look at my writings and I would be proud of them. Because I conceived something, literally out of nothing.

Previously, I had a friend, a fellow writer to read some of my writings and comment on them. The response she gave me, it was actually good. I even pressed her to be honest about it. She said it was. If you are reading this Liz, thanks! Thanks aplenty! I felt as if I am some proud mom/dad looking at their child being praised by teachers. *cue puffing and huffing nose sound*

I have friends who have descended into the realm of studies and working, and some into just plain studying to impress their parents, or studying, to gain an MBA and to get a job overseas and stay there. Nowadays, in my opinion I would say, studying these days are all just about getting good grades, getting a good job, a wife, a house, a successful career. No one exactly asks you what you want to do.

I see many of my friends are in that stature. Probably I am too. But this, keeping a small space in the vast Internet, and to write what I think, let my mind out. It keeps me sane and to remind me who I really am, and what I really want.

Out.

I said too much as it is.

A skeletal version of a story that I have yet to think a title of. - the 1st branch-

2010-12-25T02:27:00.005+08:00

My faction, was solely named the MLA (Malaya Liberation Army). The name itself shoots tingling irony through my veins when I first signed up to fight. There weren't much requirements. If you could speak a fair bit of English and Malay, is able to stand and to wield a rifle with both arms and able to walk, you are hired. No discrimination between men and women.

As far I remembered, I was of a Chinese-Indian descent. I am tall, average looking and just about the right size of a healthy dude thanks to my rotund visage of a stomach. Sporting faded jeans and a red shirt and a sling bag crossing my chest, I stepped up to the faction's recruitment building and waiting in line behind several men and women all apparently, looking their finest with faded, grimy attire and small carryon bags and some medium sized, bags.

The building was located in the center of the city where I used to hang out. It was probably the only place in the city at that time was lit. In front of a man made lake and across a river which is now strewn with garbage and probably, human corpses as well. Despite me couldn't see the river or the lake, the stench of rotting garbage and flesh hovered over the air in that area and it nearly made my eyes water, if it wasn't my turn to sign up as I entered the building.

I still remember the look on the recruiter's face when I requested to be hired. Just filling in the name and the age, that was all. "Danny.. that's it for your name?" the cigarette chewing mouth of a stalwart Punjab guy spoke. He gave me a rifle and a pistol and pointed out a direction, "Just go there, that's your dorm," and he winked. "And be quick about it- the beds are limited. Last one have to stand guard for the rest of the night,"

I scrabbled my things quickly and sprinted off into the direction that was pointed out. My sling bag, containing what little clothes I had, a comb, mirror and some basic washing up necessities. My bag could only fit so much. I slung the rifle onto my shoulder and stuff the pistol into my sling bag as I walked briskly towards the dorm.

Walking into the gloominess of the dimly lit dorm room from the recruiter's office, I quickly scrambled to a bed and put my stuff there. I looked at a clock hanging on the wall at the entrance of the dorm room. It was already late night, 2.30am. I must've been walking all day.

And then there was this dude, a dark Indian guy was clambering up the ladder and heaving itself onto the upper tier of the double decker bunk bed I was given. There were huge creaking sounds as he landed at the top, with me silently praying the bed's frames won't give way and me becoming the casualty of a war I haven't even fought.

Suddenly there was a loud sound, more like someone trying to blow a distorted trumpet, and then the lights were off. I heard many steps shuffling vigorously, with the rushing tap-tap of people clambering onto their upper beds and then there was a loud, piercing shout, "4am! Fighting practice!"

~End branch 1 part 1~

A skeletal version of a story I have yet to think a title of.

2010-12-21T16:20:00.003+08:00

Like any kid before his hormones hit in, he sure was, with the influence of cartoons and video games at the time, would've thought, or more likely, imagined that he would be a warrior of some kind. Battling evil wizards and tyrant leaders with armies of diabolical numbers as well entities with a sword bigger than me and a gun that's surely screams fear in the hearts of my enemies.

I used to jump around, waving an iron ruler or hanger, anything that has long reach or simply swinging and invisible blade around my person towards my fellow imaginary unseen hordes of soldiers against me, like an invincible warlord.

As I age, the childish flame seem to burn brightly within the dark recesses of the mind which, full of new responsibilities and problems seemingly choking the very existence of that childishness itself. When I sooner believed that I would never become a demon slaying swordsman with big guns and bigger swords, that's when it happened.

I became a fighter, a warrior that fights for his country. Not politically. But rather by taking up arms against one another.

The political state of the country that I live in, in the year of 2034, has degraded to the boiling point by high records of corruption, misplaced budget funds totalling to billions, the ever growing discontent of the people and the cherry on the cake; racism. It is war by itself on the streets. Races, religions going against one another. Economy had halted to a standstill; foreign powers do not wish to invest in a country where workers turn on one another because they are not of the same colour.

The current government's methods of peacemaking, slowly moved on to the dictatorial approach of peacekeeping. Government troops and reserve armies pouring on streets, taking over unsettled areas, and backing up a certain race with eradicating others. The current monarch system has assumed full control of the government, with the dissolution of ministerial and directorial posts, monarchs imposed their own loyalists into administering their needs, as well the armed forces into their hands.

This is the country I live in at the moment. The riotous views on the streets, government troops shooting down civilians, people suiciding from tall buildings, and corpses litter the parks, streets, are just a small, tiny fraction of the things that are happening around me.

Not all is gloom however. Few resistance factions that are opposed to the current government, which is conveniently headed by the legacy of the late Prime Minister. I am a part of one of those factions, taking up arms and killing another man so as to defend my faction's ideals.

Feels Just Like It Shouldn't

2010-10-26T01:38:00.003+08:00

Well those few days were an absolute emotional train track gone of the tracks.. I completely lost it.

Although I am known to keep my cool most of the time (I have references) but when I lose my head, it will be all over the floor, shattered and scattered. It took me a while to find myself back in order..

Regardless, after a knocking round or two by a couple of friends of mine, I am glad to announce.. that me is back on track, and ready to lay waste on this university who is trying so hard to suck off my money by purposefully putting me in such a dreadfully financially prone position *inhalessssss*

Yeah.

So to speak, I would like address another mishap that has rather happened to me lately. But first, I would to say that, helping others, doesn't carry much weight as it used to be back in the old days. In relation to that, I would say, that after much helping someone with their tasks, I myself have lost my innate ability to write, to expound, to rabble, or to CRAP.

Yes folks, I have noticed, that my writing has sort of like.. siphoned off while helping with them tasks. Ridiculous notion, but when you're placed in my shoes, my boots, my flip flops or whatever, the train of thought tend to bring me to the ludicrous implications (causes) never would've conceived by a person who is actually sober.

Mash that, I gotten over that, and I am building up them skills to help out with the only thing I actually find I am good at; (hell, it rhymed?) Writing.

Nixing these words, I am heading to fix my life all over again. The Man-Up-Top or God, He has thrown me another Get-Out-Of-The-Unfixable card for the umpteenth time despite me being severely lacking in deposits of my religious account up there in St. Peter's books. For all that I know, I do think however, He wants me to once again walk the right path. I am striving however, I am doing my best.. or that's what I think. Religious wise, I will save this for another long winded post.

If there was anyone kind, and supple and pretty, as well having an eye for good literature, that reads this, I assure you, what you are reading is the utter nonsensical ramblings of a mid-adult crisis student in a middle of blazin' nowhere university.

*winks*

Out. Been a while since I wrote my heart out like this. No, I am not aspiring to be another crappy vampire love story writer.

Out. for real.

Contempt.

2010-10-20T21:35:00.002+08:00

Amazing how life makes a fool out of me.

Gifted with wonderful parents, a wonderful family, and an overall good life.

But

I was not granted the ability to think decisively when selecting my choice of... everything else these 20 years.

Choice of friends? I surely have made a blunder of myself. Thanks to my overtly shy attitude. I have people walking to me instead of me walking to them. Indirectly, I sorta become indebted to them. For that, I am like a shadow in most gatherings. My words won't hold sway, my actions won't prick the tiniest minds, and my presence is like the wind- It is felt, but it is gone as soon as you have felt it.

Choice of relationships?

I am an idiot when it comes to this. Chasing after a girl for 7 years, I surmised that what I was doing was not 'sweet', it was more of a pinch of stupidity, mixed with a half cup of desperation and a full gallon of shyness. I can't even find a right girl to court with. Imagine 7 years of your life, wasted just like that, it is gone, it won't come back. And yet that glimmer of hope refuse to extinguish itself. That's my curse. My punishment. My idiotic tenacity.

I mean, she already said no plenty of times. That's me.

Choice of studies.

I can't even decide what to do in my life. It is all about prestige, money, glamour. It is never about doing what you really want. I am doing something I hate since my early secondary days - scientific stuff. All I ever wanted to do, is to write, and to learn languages, and learn about the human history. I am a person who is not at all interested, in the trappings of the digital world, or even the Ethernet driven society of today. I just want to write, let people read and I want to speak and learn the many cultures and languages in the world.

It is never about looking forward for me.

Now stagnant in a university that I am starting to grow and hate, I am helpless, chained like a poisoned animal in a cage, dying slowly in its shackles. I just got word that I did badly last semester, and my education loan is anything but approved. And my parents have no money left.

And the course I took is dead costly. Brilliant course of action in my part, if I said so myself.

So you see my forever invisible readers?

My life is pretty messed up.

I rather trade poverty for diligence in studies,

I rather trade my English fluency to any other languages,

I rather trade this life for another, where I could be alone in some foreign country,

I rather would want to be independent and alone, rather than have everyone who seems to have you back but not actually - which is more or less the same.

But if I do have a wish at all, is to do what I want right. for once. in this sorrowful, sad life of mine.

Out.

sick.

2010-10-20T21:23:00.002+08:00

falling..

and falling deeper into the torrid blackness.

Light seems to be a distant memory.

Voices start to call out the names.

Voices soon grew into chants.

And the chants soon grew into disembodied screams.

stop.

Stands up.

But sees nothing except the endless void.

Soon it crumbles.

And it falls under the feet.

Screams seem to fade, muffled.

Writhing hands seem to feel.

Images start to project across the mind.

A pair of red eyes bore into the very hem of the spirit.

All in shattered

A shell that is left.

embers.

2010-07-17T00:28:00.000+08:00

Life’s a waking nightmare for me. At least.

Pardon the emotional tagline in the beginning of this post. It had been a long time since I posted one here, but I am not in the mood to even apologize for it.

That’s how sore I am at the moment.

Funny… I don’t even know what I am pissed at. My friends? Money? Girls?

Or maybe the lack of sleep? Or the stagnancy in my ability to produce in this godforsaken university in the middle of a bloody halal hell in the middle of nowhere?

Or Microsoft’s word incessant green lining my sentences boldly proclaiming my grammar sentences or fragmented phrases?

For MS Word, those green lined phrases, they’re RHETORICAL QUESTIONS.

Back to the topic at hand.

Sitting here in a library where the environs are akin to a mental hospital, what with the white washed walls, decaying steel polymer pillars, and the hundreds of lights that dot the entire ceiling of the library. The whole setting gives off an eerie, deranged feel, where even the patrons look like the inmates if stared long enough.

The internet here is primarily pissing the living, scuttling soul of mine off into the depths of inhuman rage, to the point where I would just want to take the laptop and smash it into bits.

I hate the complaining of the fools that can’t answer their questions.

I hate the slow, mentally disturbed atmosphere of the library.

I hate not having money and a car.

I hate doing the studies that I should be doing instead of writing this.

I hate being emo like this. It’s so gay.

I hate her.

I hate being incapable of stopping myself.

Felicitations to an angry squawk of a blog.

Hear ye! Hear ye! all who call themselves eldest!

2010-03-14T13:18:00.003+08:00

When Spiderman received his powers, he said it was more of a curse, than a gift. Yeah la, maybe it is because his uncle died, left his aunt alone, and he cannot marry the one he loves. Because the city he is living in can't seem to stand on its own feet without him.

This superhero crap can be related in a rather similar way to my life, as well as many other eldest siblings around this banana shaped peninsula of a country.

It many people's eyes, or the youngest siblings, they think being the eldest is somewhat of a blessing because we get everything first. I say nay! True we get everything first, including the beating, the screaming, the throwing things around-ing, insulting.. etc. I would like to state here that, being eldest is like a blessing, ONLY in them filthy stinking rich families where they eat shit sleep money everyday. For us middle class eldest brothers/sisters, it is more like a curse.

I have been going through this same shit over and over again for the past years. Some say scolding and hurtful insulting is a means of motivation to do better. Yeah, better for the blossoming of the murdering capacity that all humans seem to have. If you ask me, it is not good for the development of character. Particularly if it is that someone you want to be an example of for the younger children.

And there is this, comparing. Day in and out, parents just have to compare their eldest to their younger siblings. OK, maybe if the eldest f*cked up in his studies once, that doesn't mean that the parents should go and harp about it every single day of the months in a year. A really, awesome, ineffective way to increase self esteem, way to go team mom and dad!

Hums "Where is the Love" by Black Eyed Peas

I love my mum and dad. Even if I get hurled with filthy abuses about me, my life and my friends, I still love them. Hats down to them for struggling to make my life alot easier and better. I just wish sometimes that, they don't put us eldest children aside all the time and shower the most attention on the younger ones.

I think that is enough. Out.

an attempt to rojak

2010-02-24T19:18:00.005+08:00

Just to begin to write the post only.. one part of the library blacked out. In fear of my PC (which is in ANOTHER part of the same library) I think this will be a really quick one la..

I sometimes.. think that most of my post are related to about how teruk my bachelor life is. It is true la, as there is not one, I apparently noticed, semua pun masuk pasal perempuan punya cerita in every single post here. Don't want to cheong hei so much in this article or talk kanasai stuff here..

Regardless, I might just consider my blog to be some sort of a virtual online diary so people can read and weep or gelak sampai mampus. Your choice, tuan tuan dan puan puan sekalian. My daily accounts, summarized in one glorious (maybe long) post, and might just bore the living shit out of you, maybe just.. make you laugh abit la right. Come on, something must be funny somewhere around here ok.

Like hell la wei, I sitting down on a terminal where it's facing the library's entrance. Seeing all those minah melayu and chinese leng luis and indian.. ermm girls. Most entered so far was Malay girls and uh.. orang luar girls. Iranian, Pakistan, Arab, Iraq, I pun memang tak kisah. they all look more or less the same anyways. Not to say no boys entered, just I don't really give a damn about them.

My room mate was like walking back at forth for the past half an hour to the same public library terminal. Ask him what happen, he just shakes his head like our Prime Minister in the year 1960- something when Lee Kuan Yew as for bumiputra status for the Chinese. And now he is back again, doing apa pun saya tak tau.

I am sure many have noticed that I didn't include lousy language like in most blogs. Thing is, I memang cannot use bad language with when writing anything, be it essays, complaints or posts.

*pauses and stares at hot Middle-Eastern girl that just entered*

So yeah, I think you people have noticed, as well, that I used several Bahasa and Chinese words in this post. Just a lame/vain/lousy/ridiculous/inspiring attempt to make my post don't sound so kwai lou-ish.

Love my country. Not the damn asses in Putrajaya.
Out.

iThink

2010-02-11T11:11:00.003+08:00

I think,

that yesterday was one of the highlights of my life.
something's going to happen on Chinese New Year.

about a song that is floating aimlessly in head since yesterday.
the Limkokwing University is awesome, save the fact it doesn't have engineering facilities.
politics in this country is a sham.
Arsenal should stop whining and get a move on.

KTM should stop its service, and transfer ownership to someone that is more capable.
I messed up by calling a friend of mine an alien.
I should not get a foreign girl as my bride to be.
the water service in this hostel of mine sucks.

finally, things are looking up for the first time in this life of mine
Unheilig is a great German musician.
I love to listen mellow songs now for some reason
MMU is fine.
I want to sever connections with ones I called "friends" from my former school.
I need to buy a new phone.
To get a degree First Class so I don't need to pay off my loan.

Please.Don't.

2010-01-18T23:30:00.006+08:00

Had a pretty rough, yet entertaining week.

I had witnessed a full on indecisiveness.
Had seen a driver going nuts on the road because of drowsiness.
Experienced a moment of embarrassment.
And,
I know I am going to get royally screwed anally this week. Should I submit a few things late.

Chinese class was entertaining. Yes. I can learn how to speak in Chinese, affirming my Chinese heritage, being born of Indian and Chinese parentage.

MMU is real nice as well. Made a few friends.. now I am group leader for some sales division. With no knowledge whatsoever to sell what in Cyberjaya, a city that has everything what a city wants, but far away from everything it needs (i.e: Mid Valley, Times Square, etc).

I got great news however.
It seems I could not get to romance this year (not that I haven't tried for the past 5 years), as the relationship wouldn't last.
Funny though, I never had the intention of finding a companion just yet.
Maybe I am too self centered?

My laptop is threatening to go to the afterlife, what with the sounds it makes.
Need a new, expensive, top of the line hardware to satiate my hunger for technology.
But being in Malaysia, that kind of hunger is often overlooked.

I am doing senseless typing here in a MMU library.
Spotting chicks, only to find out they speak with a strong, yet,
Indonesian, Arabic slang of English.
Kills the desire fast enough.

Internet here is real blazing fast.
Makes Streamyx appear like the government's policy on doing jobs,
Slow, Steady, inefficient.
Downloading "materials" has ne'er been sweeter than this.

I'm bored.
No classes till tomorrow morning.
With 3 subjects for an entire semester,
My dad wonders whether am I studying or not.

Trust, and space.

2009-12-27T19:04:00.007+08:00

The last post was bad. I know. I cannot be bothered in writing about the sad state our music have fallen into. It would bore the very skeletal being within you, forcing whatever energy left in your subconscious mind to stop reading.

And, I want to compensate for my last post. It was really bad. Mistakes dot the post like thorns on a durian, the post was also enveloped in a fog-like boringness. There is no saving that one. My worst of my entire blogging career..

Hence the rectification. I want to rant today, on a particular aspect of a relationship. No, maybe two. They're trust, and "space"

Trust is self explanatory. But space.. is like giving your girl / boy some time alone, not intruding 24 hours a day, 7 days a week in the duration of your relationship.

As with all my previous posts.. I want to keep this short and sweet as well. Just to give you readers that are already into a relationship, getting into one, or haven't got yet, a glimpse of reality.

Just what is relationship without trust? I mean, don't have it at all, if you cannot trust your boy or your girl. Really, if she cannot tell you that she's having a threesome with a white guy and a black guy, I don't think you need to tell her you're screwing her mother and sister in her house. End the relationship. End of story. Find someone else who's willing to share their life with you, someone that is trustable, and you, don't be keeping a wardrobe full skeletons instead.

Trust her. Or if you don't, give her the chance to let her prove that she is a trustable person. Vice versa for the girls as well. I know many of you have a short fuse especially during "that time of the month" or "28 days".. Be cool.

And...

Spaces. We need our own space. All humans do. Even the beggars at the roadside, they have their own space, you don't see any other beggars coming to intrude in. Okay, maybe not that kind of space. I mean here is, personal. A time in our daily lives, where we escape to do what we like. Like watching football, a night out with the guys or saving the world by blowing up a dangerous nuclear missile from the confines of the PC in a bedroom.

Ladies and gents,

I want to tell you that, to give each other time to miss each other. Take note: Absence, makes the heart grow fonder. This sentence never rang any truer than it is now. If you keep pouring messages and calls every hour of the day, 7 days a week, you would say you are showering your life for her, by taking note of her daily activities.

I would effin say that it is a big waste of your parents' money in phone bills (or prepaid cards), a complete waste of your time and your partner (because it makes you look like someone who has nothing else to do) and lastly, you sound like a needy freakish/stalker/obsessed person.

*exhales loudly*

I think that all there is to say on this matter.. take note ladies and gents. I know, these kinds of advice comes for free almost everyday (TheStar on Sundays and Wednesdays), or monthly (CLEO, HerWorld, Seventeen, ForHimMagazine "FHM" and OMG, Galaxie).

No point you look at horoscopes at the back flap of a Galaxie magazine or in the Star Two section of TheStar if you cannot even rectify thine mistakes.

Said too much. Probably this be my longest ever.rofl.

Movies, Music, Moons Part 2

2009-12-10T22:45:00.002+08:00

Right. Long absence, no?

I know, things happened, things got f*cked up, and things are still staying that way.

Never mind that, I have plenty to tell.. but not in this post. Remember, this is the continuation of my last post (which was about Twilight and 2012).

By all accounts, I have plenty to complain, rant, crap, write, expound and *bla bla..* about the music in this country.

Most of all, what is up with the Malaysian media scene trying to emulate the US? Channel V, MTV Asia, Hitz.fm's morning gossip with some random Hollywood insider, Mr.I-don't-give-a-rat-ass-about-what-what-people-think, overplaying of songs on all the radio channels (hitz.fm replayed Sean Paul's Temperature for like 7 times in 5 hours.), and frankly, the music is getting worse everytime is played.

I know, a little publicity here and there, little music to spice the day and stuff.. and..

*Pauses iTunes*

No, I talk too much, you readers think I am biased, a hater against all things good from the radio. Instead, I get some random gay screeching into the mike with very bad guitar and fake bass and not too bad drums (srsly, when drumbeats are bad?) every, single, f*cking time I turn the radio dial. If not guys, some tone-deaf female wailing that bangs on my ear drums like a horny Chihuahua humping a doll.

Whatever happened to the music quality today? It keeps getting worse every year.

*resumes iTunes*

That's it. I am done. I off to listening to "obscure", "weird", "unpopular" and "foreign" music which occupies the entire iTunes library of mine.

P.S: *this post... effin overdue!* =P

Movies, Music, Moons Part 1

2009-11-24T17:29:00.003+08:00

Right, so the title speaks for itself. On the movies part, I am going to discuss something I just watched (2012) and something that I will never watch (New Moon).

For music, I am going to rant about how degraded, disgraced the mainstream media these days. Yes, mediums such as MTV, Channel V and Hitz.Fm tops my list as purveyors of crap music.

Moons. Yeah, some Twilight-bashing.

*cracks knuckles*

Okay.. I watched about a movie, 2012? Blew me off my seat there. True to hell apocalyptic scenes of the Earth. Massive quakes, massive volcanoes and massive tsunamis. Truly eye candy, as the movie displays some of the most drooling CGI sequences. Those tsunamis and volcano eruptions looked awfully real for sure. And lastly the arks they used to save the humans, truly a sight.

But still, as good the movie is, I was a bit fazed by the part where John Cusack was driving frantically away from the apocalypse that was happening in his backyard. He was driving with the skill and speed that puts the Fast and Furious series to shame. I mean, who can execute a perfect drift and outrun an earthquake crack right under the tyres in a flipping LIMOUSINE?? That is the only part of the movie that look ridiculously unrealistic. But I enjoyed the chase though.

I sound like a critic. Oh right, about New Moon. I saw the trailer, there was that semi-nude werewolf saving the heroine who got a paper cut at the beginning before she got bitten by a black vampire with Bob Marley (bless him) hair. That much, I can say for the movie. And the only reason I watched the trailer because a female friend of mine beside me forced me to. Being a gentleman, how can I refuse? I wasted around a minute of my life watching that tripe. Half naked man into totally naked dog. Wonder what is he wearing when he transforms back though?
Ohh..... that explains the swarms of teenage girls to that movie.. *winks*

And yeah, I am so not used to writing long posts. It bores me and my readers to no end. No one likes reading long stuff unless they HAVE to. Like reading/ revising your excruciatingly long, boring History or Biology texts before the finals.

Outside.

Life, TWILIGHT blegh

2009-11-21T22:20:00.008+08:00

Anyway..

I been getting some beautiful responses from what an otherwise redundant blogging community of mine.

Blogging is my means of keeping my English intact, as for the past 3 years, I haven't been getting proper English education.

Firstly, my life. I know, this whole blogging about my life thing is so Facebook-ish. But then, in Facebook, people don't give a rat's bottom about how your life is. They only care how you look, how often you hit Mafia Wars, or how many lame interviews and quizzes you answer or post on someone else's page. More on FB later.

However, my life as I say to you now, is akin to the political clamour in this country. It doesn't have a particular direction. All decisions made by me, are actually the really wrong ones. In life, education, even love and money, I did not make a single right one.

Blah on my life. That's all I need to write. Seriously, I felt lame a moment there because i ACTUALLY complained about my life on blogger. Infinitely gay. Like one of those vampire-emo-long hair-MCR kind of vibe that is going on these days with the Twi-f*ckin-light disease spreading faster than the pig flu (H1N1) .

Twilight. Let me get this straight. I don't wanna sound like a Neanderthal (a really, hairy, dumb caveman) because I am bashing that movie in this blog post. But, reality bares its ugly fangs (like Edward "Fruitbat" Cullen). There are some people who:

1. Absolutely loves the movie to the point kisses Edward "Paleface" Cullen on his movie poster. (Applies to girls 15-19 yrs old)
2. Buys the story books, watches the movie and go gaga over that topless dog *ahem* WEREWOLF. (Still 15-19 yrs old fan girls)
3. Watches the movie for the sake of it. (For men who are forced by their women)
4. Watches the movie for Kristin "Simple" Stewart (Guys who are desperate)
5. Plain hates it. (Me)

I have oh-so-much to write about this movie-series-story-vampire-bull epidemic that is swarming all over the world. But I don't want to be too hard on this, as there are many (possible) readers that are staunch, die hard Edward "Eddie" Cullen fans. And he is the vampire in question of the movie. What happened to Dracula? Lestat? My oh my.. vampires, supposed to be feared as bloodsucking creeps of the night, reduced to emotional, pale, handsome, cool vibe going on.

A *cough* vampire. Edward "Flyboy" Cullen-->

<-- A real vampire. "Nasty Ears" Nosferatu

I guess enough is enough. If i did decide to flame Twilight all at once tonight, I will die of extreme exhaustion of writing all the way until morning.

Besides, you people don't like reading long stuff isn't it?

Out.

Field test!!

2009-10-27T22:40:00.002+08:00

O PLEASE.........

whatever kind soul out there... God Bless Thee.......

I ask thee a tiny favour..

I beg thee kindest soulth..thou please be commenting on this post, or any post here for all that matter.

I be trying out a new template.. the last one sucketh a$$ like time's big needles on Big Ben.. it stopped people from praising me..

............or spitting acid..................screweth they. NOT THOU!!

regardless, I thank you all in advance!!

glassy eyes

2009-10-06T22:19:00.002+08:00

I am SO perplexed right now..

No flipping idea..

What I am I thinking?

Why do I need to take a look see 10 years in the future? Or better said, I created, edited, produced, advertised my own future in my head.

Visualizing all kinds of seemingly random bits and parts of my daydreams pasted together in a nice show.

The cars, house, overseas career is fine and dandy. But why in the flipping vestiges of my sanity that I fast forwarded my romance situation? So I can have a better view of what awaits me?

Many choices erupted in my head. Unlikely ones, obviously.

Maybe its a kind of feel good thing. Who knows. But I wonder that my constant recreation of my own personal rendition of life (Idling, Sleeping, Online, Chatting) would actually become true?

Nah.

Seeing is believing. If you could actually see what I think, in a nice 16:9 screen with ample sound, you'd laugh the shit of your pants. No shit.

Luckily no one could. I'd die of laughter myself.

Listening to Kavinsky's Testarossa - Sebastian Remix (not to be confused with Kaspersky) while jotting this confusing, meaning(less) entry down.

Out.

Feeling Helpless.

2009-05-06T02:28:00.003+08:00

I don't know why of all people, me! I wonder about it all the time.

No matter how many times I read the Bible, pray and ask for forgiveness every time I commit the unholy act, I feel it is not enough.

What I am doing is not small. It is not enough to redeem myself.

And then, once I prayed, make a solemn vow not to repeat it again, I do it the next day. What is it? You ask?

No I am not ready to disclose it yet..

Just that it has a powerful grip on me like smoking, alcohol addiction, drugs and the like.

This.. is grim.

Every time after I sin, I feel the guilt washing over me in a flowing tide. So heavy, until I feel everything that is around me is wrong. Wrong, to the point things really happen the other way round for me.

Is that punishment from above? This little things that happen to me after I sin?

I do not think so.

I believe the Lord's punishment surely have a deeper, more profound meaning on me than all the small wrongs that happen to me during daylight and nighttime every time after I sin.

Again, you must wonder I always use the word "sin". I may have mentioned it earlier, but please, do not press me on that subject. When I am ready, I will tell you all.

Sin has already a grip on me since I was born. Nothing strange there. But this specific deed, it has been already 5 years when I was shackled under the steel fist of this particular sin.

I curse myself sometimes. I always vow to revert back to my younger, usual self by stopping it. Only, to fail, to fall in the waiting hands of temptation, a blade thrust into my hands to cut through my willpower, walking into the filthy den of sin.

I never wrote anything of this nature, ever. Weird, no?

I hate myself for doing this sin. I hate myself even more for even unable to control myself. And the worst, I knew the consequences even when I was sinning. I am no different than a chain smoker who tells the world he wishes to quit, or the drunk who goes to the bar every night claiming its his last bottle.

Call this a confession if you may. I am just pouring this out for it has been building up like a raging maelstrom in my mind, body, spirit.

Again, I ask forgiveness from my Father, the Lord for forgiveness, wishing help and guidance from Him always. For I love the Father. He has helped me countless times when I am in pain, trouble or anything that seems wrong happen to me. I call out His name, and he answers like a father would to his child. What good am I if I, a child of God, cannot even reply in kind? Can't I obey His will? That is what He wants from all of us!

I pray the Father forgives me for my sin that I have committed. I want to walk in the ways of the righteous, not the path of sinful decay. A solemn prayer, so I would not want to sin again, at least not this grave, filthy habitual sin of mine.

Amen.

a "Nightmare"

2009-04-30T22:29:00.003+08:00

It was a sunny Sunday afternoon, with the sun shone brightly at high noon. A wedding was about to take place. The bride's house was the venue of that wedding, with tents erected, caterers standing at the ready with their food trays laden on tables. Waiters stood rigid, expecting an order from a guest or their employers. Chairs arranged together with tables on the spacious front porch.

The house was a little quiet , maybe the lack of guests from the groom's side. The bride was a demure looking thing, with her maids flanking her as she walked towards the two chairs which makes up the pelamin. The groom stared at his life partner, whom he has fought tooth and nail to get her, regardless of his heritage and the pressure of his relatives.

He looked at his bride to be as she walked elegantly towards him, and gazed on her. The boy shuffles uneasily on his golden chair as he waits for his bride, thanks to the lack of his parents, nor his relatives being there for his biggest day, a rather usual thing to happen to an exiled member of his family. Only a few of his friends stood there, offering moral support. They were chatting to one another idly as they stood near the groom. A wave of regret swept the groom's mind as he contemplates his life with his wife-to-be.

Moments later, the bride sat beside her partner on the pair of golden chairs. Adorned with an exquisite baju kebaya and a myriad of jewelry, she looked ready for the event, with the elegance and looks of a queen.

The groom is no slouch either. Dressed in expensive, designer material Baju Melayu, complete with a tengkolok, a Malay headdress for royal males with some lining of jewelry.

Sitting beside his bride, the pair looked like a royal couple just for the moment.

As the handsome pair looked shyly towards the small audience, the imam pronounced the pair man and wife, as the bride's mother sprinkled rose water on them. "Ahmad Danny, and (insert name of Malay girl here) you are pronounced man and wife", echoed the hall.

....................

*wakes up in cold sweat*

I gasp on my double-decker bed as my heart beat rapidly like after a 10km marathon. I could hear its "BOOM" "BOOM" in the cold stillness of the night accompanied by the ceiling fan's spinning blades.

It was a nightmare.

~~This was written promptly after a week's absence of Internet and weird lingering thoughts that I just can't seem to get down~~

My University(College) Excessively Tolol I.

2009-04-23T23:25:00.005+08:00

I couldn't find the appropriate abbreviation for what I am suggesting in my blog at the moment, and this is the best I could think of to appropriately verbally assassinate my college.

I know, lame. Just like my college in spreading information. It has always been their pride their reason to live and breathe. And they accomplish it with all the incompetent life-forms they call their "men and women of the Multimedia College". Glad I am not part of them. Useless I may be, I haven't hit the bottom yet. But them, may have already hit the bottom of their usefulness. Or maybe they are still traveling downwards looking for an end. "Bottomless Pit" springs to mind.

Right, I am still not done in illustrating my college's sheer, stained, grimy reputation. Let's save it for another time.

I am going to point out one, only ONE of my college's virtues. Spreading information. That is what the brief introductory paragraph up there is all about.

My college, infamously known for its driving gullible people to its grounds. What they told us:

1. Good knowledge, taught by excellent lecturers.

2. Accommodation provided, within the hostel grounds with 24-hour security.

3. Get the chance to socialize with people of different ethnicities.

4. Wireless Internet provided upon registration.

5. Water, laundry services provided for students.

And what they gave:

1. Minimum to basic knowledge, taught by many half-baked lecturers who can't differentiate between A or B.

2. Double bedded military issue hostel room, with common bathroom and an elevator which seems to break down every few days. Security? My room was broke into and nothing was done about it.

3. Different ethnicities? 95% of the "ethnicities" are Malays. Rest are divided between Indians (4.5%), Chinese (0.37%) and "dan lain lain" (0.13%)

4. Wireless Internet wasn't available until about a year after I entered the college. After registering, I got the username and password 3 months after that.

5. Water services by a water cooler or a mineral water dispenser (you know, the one you put 20 sen and then put your bottle underneath it). The water from the water cooler made me fever for 3 days straight. Laundry? The washing machine provided always breaks down one way or another.

Look at the wonderful misinformation they give out to attract students from all over the country. It is like looking at a pretty girl far away and when you go to chat, only to find out she has f***ing stinking breath.

Wait for part 2. I haven't gotten to the good part yet. I need to formulate the perfect array of words to signify my "love" for this "institute". And it is related to my title's abbreviation (MUET).

Stay tuned.

With(out) love and respect,

Dan Ee

Much To Write, Very Little Conscience..

2009-04-16T16:25:00.002+08:00

I gotta get this out before my head gives me another run of fear.

Its amazing when you see people get over their fears.. amazing really. Heights, bugs, ghosts, darkness, or anything that is tagged with a -phobia behind the said object.

But now, something is a-nagging at my throat besides my cough.. and it is the fear of getting hitched.

No I am not joking around here. Of course, being hitched, or at least getting laid is fun in many ways because its only temporary. Marriage? A damn sentence. Like the mandatory ones they impose in courts. A fate worse than death.

Not done yet. You know what's worse than that? Someone else planning it for you. Its like you got the chance to see into your future and all you saw was how you kicked the bucket.

Something happened made me wrote this.

Fear scuttles through my neurons again like a lost cockroach..

Dan Ee

No.. What??

2009-04-03T21:05:00.005+08:00

Sometimes as I sit here when I write this..

Do I really have to blog daily? Keep a post for a day? I don't know about it.

As I sit in my cozy room, air-conditioner sweeping the room with its cool, dry breeze, which I know going to add some numbers to the electric bill, as I switched my light, the PS3, my speakers and my laptop too.

My speakers are currently blasting out some good German music.. metal types.

Ahhh... bored actually. Just writing to waste my time a little bit and to wait for my download to finish..a movie actually. Wait lemme check it...

S**t.

It stopped midway. Oh well..... **Darn it**

Nope, still cruising through my Facebook.. pretty much answering dumb quizzes and getting even dumber results. For starters:

1. Are you a Good Boyfriend--> I'm pretty nice and I am clueless. (the hell???)

2. What video game character are you?--> Altair (Assassin's Creed a.k.a PS3 game)

3. Who is your celebrity girlfriend?--> Lindsay Lohan (I wouldn't mind her.. if she's not a lesbian.. but then again..)

Yeah, I see the smirk on your faces you perverts xD

There. What choice do I have? Games? On my computer?? ..................... Moving on...................

And then.. with Najib being the PM today. It is going to be a nightmarish few years for us, the rakyat before we knock him off from his cozy seat in Putrajaya. Sad thing, for all of us Malaysians. The ones who wish him congratulations maybe are the ones that are paid, forced to or maybe just plain honest. I am more towards the being paid part.

Look at this. Although, don't think the Nazi swastika's making them look bad. They both are making the Nazi LOOK bad. =D

I pretty much made some of my points here clear, if not fuzzy.

See you again.

Out.

No Comments.

2009-04-02T01:52:00.000+08:00

Hello again.

Yeah, pretty long absence me thinks.. wait it is LONG.

*sigh*

Never mind, i try to take things slowly.. maybe that's why everything's around me including my life is S-L-O-W.

I can proceed to degrade and humiliate myself further but.. that's for another time.

Speaking of which.. blogging is sort a way of improving my language.. my command in it. In this case English. Bahasa Melayu well.. I tend to ignore it as I speak it, I read it and I passed it in my SPM so I couldn't give two shits about that language NOW. As for the other languages like Chinese and German.. well.. I am not a true master. Hell, I stutter when I speak them!

Enough of this,

I'm sleepy *yawns* and it is late.

The Clucking Bull

The misused gift.

Inebriated *posted previously on 17/1*

The regular stuff i listen to.

Migration

*grins*

Das Angst

Never

totally random

A poem, generated from stormy thoughts

It is about mosquitoes actually.

mistakes.

a short shrift

the return.

Eins,

Opinions about everything and nothing (Condensed)

A tribute, and a letter

Delving deeper into a devilish shadow.

The rare lightbulb post. about marriage and an msn conversation.

Long Awaited? Unlikely.

Review and some other...

Common Complaints

An excuse

Cultural revolution

Absentia. And music. Mostly music.

Resume-ing, -ed

Despair.Failure.Expectations

Not related to the New Year whatsoever. Wait, it somehow does.

A skeletal version of a story that I have yet to think a title of. - the 1st branch-

A skeletal version of a story I have yet to think a title of.

Feels Just Like It Shouldn't

Contempt.

sick.

embers.

Hear ye! Hear ye! all who call themselves eldest!

an attempt to rojak

iThink

Please.Don't.

Trust, and space.

Movies, Music, Moons Part 2

Movies, Music, Moons Part 1

Life, TWILIGHT *blegh*

Field test!!

*glassy eyes*

Feeling Helpless.

a "Nightmare"

My University(College) Excessively Tolol I.

Much To Write, Very Little Conscience..

No.. What??

No Comments.

Inebriated posted previously on 17/1

grins

Life, TWILIGHT blegh

glassy eyes