7.40 p.m.

Grey and indigo are really close in a drizzle;
At least around 7.40 p.m. in the equator;
And only if pupils are dilated and neck extended directly above.

For as bruised as twilight appears,
The expansive epidemic of Prussian blue spreads,
Consuming
heartbeats,
tics,
and blinks.

Then there are the clouds;
Ominously ever present;
Chaperoning in darker tones.

Then and very suddenly
shades of orange
whose origins I am not really sure.

Not the sun; slumbering in the west.
Street lamps perhaps; a collective illumination?
Or plainly smog; it was not drizzling now.

The origins as I finish did not matter.
I never knew anyway.
It was the wonder and the way that did.

2010

We have lived a decade since Y2K.
Both nouns which I still cannot completely fathom.

This year however is still fresh and not yet over; is still throwing tantrums.
Nevertheless how bad, overcoming them to satiety seems to thread the theme of the year; fulfillment.

From uncharted waters leading to unforgettable experiences,
From unknowns to new friends,
From unknowing to learning.
It was fulfilling and for that it will be missed.
Thinking back the successes, we are humbled by the human spirit and can only be better.

Quintessentially to seek inspirations within oneself.

Wishing everyone a very happy new year and even more happier ones to come!

Home is ...

Where you eat less than required,
Where you seem not to put on any weight even if you are constantly eating,
In which both situations you are commented upon and made to gorge on more.

Where clothes get washed without you bothering them,
Where unacceptable clothing is acceptable,
Where buying new clothes is primarily a matter of preference than finances,
In which clothes is not even a topic except when getting more of them.

Where chores get done no matter how much you grumble,
Where chores are less even if you grumble,
Where you can escape chores by pointing out a sibling doing less when it is actually the opposite,
Where you can feign breathlessness or allergy and escape,
In which if there are any real chores in the first place.

Where as much as you hate the excitement,
You would not have it otherwise,
Where as much as drama you create,
You know it is an unwritten responsibility of yours,
Where as much as you compare it with any other place,
You know you rather be at no other place.



Wishing everyone a very happy Diwali and even more happier ones to come!

Making a Point

Straight to business; there is a community message I would like to spread.

You can start by reading this first:
http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=%2F2010%2F10%2F29%2Ffocus%2F7323462&sec=focus

The Pusat Pemulihan Dalam Komuniti work to empower children with special needs. The centre in Merbok is organizing a Jumble Sale at the end of this year to raise much needed funds to run the place and organize activities.

They are looking for any form of contribution that fits into the bill of a Jumble Sale. If you have any used items, please contact Pusat Pemulihan Dalam Komuniti, D/A Dewan Orang Ramai Pekan Merbok, 08400 Merbok, Kedah or

Mr. Husni Zain, Chairman at 019 559 7951;
Madam Norliza, Supervisor at 019 420 8414;
Madam Rodziah at 012 549 6528;
Ms. Nurul Hasni at 017 432 7244;
Madam Sharipah at 017 414 5326

Thanks!

Needed vs. Wanted

To trust is a most foolish thing and
to hope on people requires many more leaps of faith.

There is a very distinct line of difference between people needing you and wanting you.
Hoping tries to smudge this line but who are we kidding?
When the need vanishes, the needed also becomes invisible,
with the feelings forgotten and relationship turning rancid.

The only person wanted these days lives in the list in the police station. To discuss this is basically irrelevant.

I am lousy at long jumps let alone to take any leap;
across the drain or hopes likewise.

Allergies

Mast cells can be directed towards anything: dust, pollen and even people.
Unfortunately they can't react towards the last: people whom your subconscious and conscious have meticulously dissected and deemed molecularly unacceptable to your very being.

We really can't deal with those whom we can't seem to set our eyes upon let alone waste any other sensory modality. The point is being that their existence has became your bane. It is really not your fault if they turn out to have manners of a five-year old, behaviours rivaling the Teletubbies, neonatal nuances and mindsets of the sixties.

Arcane irritants.
Choking characters.
Toxic personalities.

However life is not that kind to spare you from the balance. We resort to dealing with people we rather not deal with due to so many reasons.

The only way to keep your peace of mind then is to be as clinical as possible in those dealings. By that I mean: keeping things black and white and not involving any gray as the last spells trouble. Two plus two equals four and no lingering around for any small talk.

Sensory isolation helps me keep my sanity and my peace of mind.
A big word it has become these days.

Of innocence and irritability

I may not be patient but I am at least reasonable and if you are peckish, I am fair.

I sometimes think people go all out to annoy the little patience out of anyone.
Instructions when told clearly should be followed. That is why they are given in the first place.

"Bus stop" does not mean "maktab." Any hearing impairment also would not translate to that either. So I was clearly thrilled when the cabbie decided to drop me there.
The worst is the audacity to correct me.

I did not respond much for I have long given up responding to brainless people.
There was just two things I could infer out of the situation: either he was going a for longer ride to get more out of my wallet or he was plainly ignorant. I am thinking the latter.

Either way, I was being patient.
May be they can learn conversational English, no?

And I think I will be reporting to the authorities about cabbies not using meters in SP.

The Art of Behaving

Just because you can do something, whether you ought to do it is the ultimate question.
Ought to is simply not disturbing anyone anyway.
Let it be wearing more skin than clothes to embarrassing PDA.
And if you disturb someone, any person with a cerebrum would respond.
If the response disturbs you, you have just got a taste of your own medicine.
You asked for it and please don't insult the intelligence of the people you have just disturbed.

This is the simple logical chain of events.
Unfortunately since stupidity is the most contagious thing on the planet, hardly anyone would understand this and behave.

Common sense is so uncommon these days. PERIOD.

Abandonment Issues

Just like how I abandoned the blog, I got a taste of my own medicine.
And I have realized it boils down to the choices one makes.

I choose not forgive.
I choose never to be foolhardy.
I choose not to look back.

I choose to move forward.

Somethings Never Change

Image from http://jenbreaux.files.wordpress.com/2007/04/partyscenegg.jpg.

Sinusitis and I said, "I do" a real long time ago and even if I tried to cheat, sinusitis has clung on to me.

So when we get really romantic and chummy, we become much of a public nuisance.

I have learned over the many years through this affair to get medicated and stay away from people. Not that I am infectious or anything. Merely the fact that each time I sneeze, everyone stops for a split second from what they are doing and look at me. Then H1N1 came and everyone thought I was constantly infected.

When I cut off human company (which is really not a bad thing), I read books. Lots of them. They don't complain when I sneeze at them or splutter coffee when I sneeze or medicate them by mistake. I really do define "unputdownable" to the point that I have developed a BR* cramp in my left forearm.
*brachioradialis

I don't really remember when I started reading books. I don't really remember my very first book. That is how long me and books go.

Recently (meaning about 16 hours ago), I finished Sophie Kinsella's Twenties Girl which truly is unputdownable. Before you go thinking it's a chic flick or some trashy literature, it makes The Namesake look shy. So you know it's good; may be we will get a movie in the years to come. Quite an unexpected storyline (that which makes stories unforgettable). The author did a good job in storytelling a hip 20s scene (and yes this is the 1920s with the top hats and flapper dresses) while highlighting the challenges that those times.

It was really naive of me to associate the 20s to New York. Something about Marilyn Monroe and me being confused. Set in London and quite a first for me as I have not read about London per se in the 20s or the 21st century (P.S. I Love You was set in Ireland). Quite a breather from all the heather and villages of the 60s which I have come to associate London to. And yes, it is not just a quaint little shopping district.

A story is only as good as it is able to engage with the reader and vividly form a mini-universe in their head. This story has touch of all the right things to make it right. Paced storyline but not too fast or heaven-forbid too slow, rich with details but not florid and most of important of all filled with everyday people. I guess that last bit is what that makes me passionate about this book. Most stories these days are filled with characters which too much of "something" which makes them a pain and makes you look how many more pages are left in that chapter. Either that or they are canned with cryptic messages and imagery that stresses one out trying to decipher them. One or two is cute, a few is perfect but sentence after sentence of personification and depersonification?! This book as I have implied has neither of those foolish emblems.

More importantly I guess besides these niceties and enriched experience, it has got to have some message but not the wrong message. This book has some really funny ones like "Don't end up being a trailer" (that's a stalker in 21st century speak). That's from Sadie Lancaster by the way.

Speaking of Sadie, she would be now in trance as I have started droning. I better go and wake her up.

2009 - 2010

To do justice to 2009, the word would be unexpected.

In a good way ... at least that is how I would see it.
A fulfilling year learning lots of new things (really), unearthing good people and discovering new opportunities; if I were to be succinct.
Of course there were equally matched incidents of drama but honestly I can't waste ATPs on typing them let alone think about them.

As much point there is in whining over lost time,
the same amount of worth is in basking over the good times.
Both are in past tense, and I am not doing a memoir, thank you very much.

While it has been quite a successful run, coming to think of it ... there was a lot of work done in order to get them ... sometimes much more than the next person.
I guess kites rise best against wind.

I don't do resolutions as I am a firm believer that I make God laugh when I make plans. The irony is that I always make plans and far too much of them. I could give Phileas Fogg a run for his money (not that he wouldn't put a wager). As much as everyone else reading this, I live an ordinary life and these plans sometimes bring extraordinary things into them ... hence we need plans. How much we follow them or rather how much I overlook a thousand things while planning is another story which you will have the entire new year to hear about.

So with that note, I wish everyone

A very happy new year and more happier ones to come!

In somno securitas?

That means: In sleep there is safety.

Sort off cliched that the Association of Anaesthetists of Great Britain and Ireland adopted this as their motto but that's not the point now.

While I suffer from somnolence now after the month long sleep-deprived state, I think about those days that even four hours of sleep was considered lucky. I thankfully did not suffer from insomnia and the sleep deprived state was voluntarily induced for a reason. However it was in sleep (which thankfully came quickly and left quickly), I truly felt free and safe. The rest of the hours were charged with some adrenaline or cortisol. Deadlines were the graffiti of those hours.

Now with sleep batting my eyelids easily, I marvel at how I was then. My then-self would have given the look of ultimate pity to my now-self; the weak-willed creature to sleep.

Surprising isn't it; how we mold to our objectives so quickly,
How subconsciously we accept change even though we consciously resist it,
How comfort zones are mere fixations of imagination.

Well I am not made of gold,
I am not made of iron either,
Or steel for that matter (that's Superman),

I am made of plastic.

Adapting, Malleable and Indestructible.
And so is the rest of the world.

Insight into Decision Making

A group of children were playing near two railway tracks, one still in use while the other disused.
Only one child played on the disused track, the rest on the operational track.

The train is coming, and you are just beside the track interchange.
You can make the train change its course to the disused track and save most of the kids.
However, that would also mean the lone child playing by the disused track would be sacrificed.
Or would you rather let the train go its way?

Let's take a pause to think what kind of decision we could make ...

Most people might choose to divert the course of the train, and sacrifice only one child.
You might think the same way, I guess.
Exactly, to save most of the children at the expense of only one child was rational decision
most people would make, morally and emotionally.
But, have you ever thought that the child choosing to play on the disused track had in fact
made the right decision to play at a safe place?

Nevertheless, he had to be sacrificed because of his ignorant friends who chose to play where the danger was.
This kind of dilemma happens around us everyday.
In the office, community, in politics and especially in a democratic society,
the minority is often sacrificed for the interest of the majority,
no matter how foolish or ignorant the majority are, and how farsighted and knowledgeable the minority are. The child who chose not to play with the rest on the operational track was sidelined.
And in the case he was sacrificed, no one would shed a tear for him.

The great critic Leo Velski Julian who told the story said he would not try to change the course of the train because he believed that the kids playing on the operational track should have known very well that track was still in use, and that they should have run away if they heard the train's sirens..
If the train was diverted, that lone child would definitely die because he never thought the train could come over to that track! Moreover, that track was not in use probably because it was not safe.
If the train was diverted to the track, we could put the lives of all passengers on board at stake!
And in your attempt to save a few kids by sacrificing one child, you might end up sacrificing hundreds of people to save these few kids.

While we are all aware that life is full of tough decisions that need to be made,
we may not realize that hasty decisions may not always be the right one.

---
The above tale is one which I got through a forwarded mail.
It seemed to have the relevance and the edge of these challenging times ...

P/S Children should never play in train-tracks even if they are disused. Think about it.

The Sore Thumb of Polycytemia Rubra Vera

http://z.hubpages.com/u/430409_f260.jpg

Somethings must remain normal
for a simple reason that
any glitch in that normality ruins
everything.

How anything behaves must remain normal
for yet another simple reason;
misbehavior in whatever the circumstance
is misbehavior nevertheless.

Indolent but nevertheless diseased, thank you very much.

In chess a pawn can be promoted but
in reality we are often pawned for gluttony.
Gluttony which both feeds and is fed, that is.
Gluttony which embarrasses and disappoints the poor pawn.

The worst of course is the ignorance and denial of the whole ordered chaos.
Very much like polycytemia rubra vera.

So would I have a sore thumb pointing wrongs out
or polycytemia rubra vera.

I think you know the answer already.
That was no question but
a statement of harsh reality.

The Tale of the Brass Idli Maker

http://product-image.tradeindia.com/00274000/s/0/Brass-Handi-.jpg

I was pondering about this issue for quite a while; whether to write about it or not. It had been some time you would have noticed that I actually wrote something.

Anyway, throw rotten tomatoes at me if you have to.
The situation I am about to tell you came from a conversation some few dinners ago:

In a marriage (I think this does not apply to live-in relationships), if a particular spouse in anger chooses to break a family heirloom of another spouse to prove a point, how should the other spouse react?

In impulse people might do anything but common sense (however uncommon it is) would be somewhat exercised in most sane individuals.
Nothing crass, crude nor drastic.

If it was up to me, I would plainly pack all the other heirlooms (from the ancient hairpin to the one-of-a-kind brass idli maker) and send it to some other relative where it is probably safer and appreciated.

My point is heirlooms are not just things, they represent your heritage.
A part of who you are.
If your spouse could not respect that and choose to fire their neurons at such an astounding cranial capacity, to do something so intelligent --- either they have some underlying psychological problem or its time to think what you are doing in the relationship.

It is not just a thing,
It is not about you valuing a thing more than a person,
It is not about being a MCP,

It is about you
and about you knowing that you have self-worth and dignity.

Somehow that element is lost in most relationships these days.

It's Complicated

When benign sights (maybe walking to the washroom together is slightly unholy) and romantic comedies results in depression; I think the term "it's complicated" is completely merited for. Even more so when it is a movie watched in complete exhaustion and only a tiny bit of the movie sets-off an emotional downpour.

In a weird convoluted way, being immensely busy with mainstream issues keeps us from realizing emotional handicaps. As someone puts it, these handicaps are very disturbing. However thankfully, the lifelessness has numbed us of pain. Not essentially a bad thing but not a good thing either as lifelessness leaves us pretty much devoid of humanity.

http://www1.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/2834078/2/istockphoto_2834078_she_loves_me.jpg

However, nothing can be compared to the confused, insecure, fearful and unsure state that being complicated renders one to.

We end up living by leaving it to chance and that is truly disturbing.

Rough Winds Do Shake the Darling Buds of May

A choice of personal preferences should be allowed and it is a right.
We are at free will to like or dislike a certain thing to reasons most applicable to us.

Even to the extent; to some it may seem derogatory.
Fundamental fact: it is one's life and how one chooses it is simply one's own business as long no toes are stepped upon. This is highly applicable to busybodies who provoke people and create storms in many people's teacups. Bless me, my tea was ruined!

The point is that one's point is not discriminatory if it doesn't involve active participation to stand-up for the point. The action matters and creating a hoo-hah for nothing is simply self-initiated sympathy-co-mud slapping; the point where one descends to being discriminatory to anothers passive self-indulgent thought.

The fact of knowing such people disgusts me and I wonder whether the day will come when I am not allowed to like purple and eat mash potato.

And now; we know where the holier-than-thou attitude roots from and discriminates underdogs of all kinds.

In the name of God, the most Gracious and most Merciful

Picture from: http://dakchomey.files.wordpress.com/2009/03/6f8aea9ea87f4459ae619931.jpg

Tragedy touched us.

Us.
Us.
Us.

Finally in death, she achieved what she set out to do.
Never mind the critics and the censors of her films,
Never mind the people who jeered at her efforts to appreciate our diversity,
But mind the fact we may never have another Sepet, Funeral or Talentime.

Yasmin Ahmad was and is a Malaysian,
More Malaysian than so many of us,
because she harboured hope in the Promised Land and acted upon it.

Now in death,
the storyteller,
the filmmaker,
got her ovation.

The full-stop, the finality, the exclamation mark;
death has its way of making things heard.

Yasmin believed in Malaysia and
she left me the trickle of hope.

A little bit less bitter,
A little bit less suspicion,
A little bit less prejudice,
A little bit more open,
A little bit more respect,
And a little bit more love,
Makes our little imperfections beautiful.

I met a person who acknowledged me after just mere glances,
He was not of my skin but sought to see the similarities that bonded us instead of highlighting the differences; let it be even the position of bus seats or the time we would be in SP.

Yasmin believed in Malaysia and
she left me the trickle of hope,
this person restored it to full brim.

We see only what we want to see
We are only as happy as our minds make to be
We are only Malaysian if we choose to be.
And Yasmin lived to be.

Not The Whole Truth

There is nothing in substitute for the truth then where do white lies fall in place? Well somewhere on the gates of the greater good where gray prevails. Speaking of gray, the de-novo colours of sweatshirts, we find there is this curious little habit of ours of not telling the whole truth.

Of course you did go outstation for that conference but well, little intelligent you did not tell that your extra day was actually not accidental. The official version of events was bad weather and the flight got delayed. Oh yes, your clandestine activities did go undetected.

This is one example and we have others like taking a whole day to shop in a sale where you bought that leather bag with a 5% discount. Yet what you tell your friends over brunch on Sunday while munching on rolls is that you were bargain hunting and things were indecently cheap, probably even cheaper than the rolls you are eating.

It seems diluting the truth either by exaggerating or over-simplifying it is something of norm. Weaving florets on monotony and obscuring rancid from the fluorescent mess is something we rather do than stray into the lanes of lies. It maybe something deemed trivial or something downright dangerous but who is do deny it wasn’t necessary. Yes, a necessary evil it was; to deglaze and shine and yet we were not lying, thank you very much.

We do it for many reasons. For obvious ones like avoiding unnecessary conversation by people who have more time than us at the present so that it sounds mundane and we can continue on real business and these people will find some other victim. Sometimes it is not to lose face and be lapped with some attention for something totally ordinary. Most of the time it is for ourselves. An individualistic desire to not to be put in a situation of being bitten by our conscience for lying. By doing this, we avoid pangs of guilt and are contented by the fact that there was a morsel of truth beneath that waffle.

Call it cheating yourself, call it suave but the best of us and the worst of us do it.

"It is important to look good"

I have heard the phrase above many times.
You know in reference to interviews, engagements, dates and a whole lot of other important end-outcomes.

Those dreaded first impressions?
Does the colour of a necktie or a cut of a dress tell whether a person is efficient? Does it mean that if you naturally have hooded eyelids; you are condemned to be lazy? The point is that first impressions do not tell anything much about character. It in fact hides a lot of things like laziness, inefficiency and all kinds of lousy traits.

However, I am not championing on going to meet a person with T-shirts stained suspiciously and unwashed hair. Those things are detrimental to you and the person next-to-you and is not pleasant on the eye.

Not pleasant on the eye.
Not pleasant on the eye.

Contradicting it sounds, actually because if you take it far enough, it would be alright to hire the handsome gentleman because the guy with the braces is an eyesore. Few words: it is plainly unfair. For one simple logical reason: you might not be choosing the better person because of something so superficial. Period.

We have to draw the line and I think the part about whether whatever that irritates your occipital lobe* is really detrimental or not should be defined. Not technically very hard: I sometimes choose to write them out on paper to remove the visual bias. I am open to better techniques though.
* the part of the brain concerned with interpreting what we see

Mirror, mirror on the Wall,
Who is the Fairest One of Them All?
We humans like beautiful things and everything positive is associated with being beautiful in the loosest sense. What was supposedly neutral is perceived as positive. Cinderella was beautiful and her evil sisters had to be ugly. Witches were undoubtedly with crooked noses. In short, ugly humans were bad humans. Even food had to look good with garnishing so much to wet our appetites. Is it instinctual? No, I think it is a very wronged learned behavior to appreciate skin-depth beauty based on pigmentation preferences. Cavemen were icky. Look I am into this now. It is ingrained to say so much. Before we are mature enough to appreciate true beauty (the one which is formed by positives), this dangerous principle has been seeded into our subconscious. Even this skin depth philosophy is tainted and crooked in its own way, some people still see tall, fair (which is so unfair ... oh the malignancy has spilled into syntax too) and thin as beautiful. The irony of fair being unfair is enough to speak volumes on our so, civilized nature.

My point is ...
Bad habits are difficult to weed out. Watching children watching their weight, dying of anorexia, resort to stealing to finance their labels, losing self confidence and the ensuing vicious cycle. This dreaded prophecy is almost as equivalent to shoving the reality of the situation right under our noses. If we still choose to deign to ignorance and continue teaching our kids wrong lessons, don't complain when civilization crumbles because it was important to look good.

We do not borrow this earth from our grandparents, but we owe them from our children.