For the past 3 months too many things have happened to be put into a single entry, so I shall not even attempt. But suffice to say that, even if given anything in the world, I would not trade it for what has gone by. Those are the memories I’m going to cherish forever and it shall not be perish. Sometimes when I close my eyes, the memories kept flashing back and even with the sudden quietness there is no way I would break the silence because I want to prolong the magic, to saviour those moments that we had, moments that we both shared. And that is when I realized what life had given to me, pure bliss. Those were the only times that I ever felt perfectly happy in my entire life. And it does reminds me of the time when I was a little child, I always thought life was supposed to end up like it portrayed in a film with a happy ending in waiting. I was taught to believe in a few certainties that we know now it’s not necessary true but was essential part of growing up. Instead life turns out to be nothing but a dream and sometimes it ended in tears. “Where is the happy ending gone?” I asked myself. Sometimes life can be cruel in a way that we could not possibly imagine. But we should agree life consists of happiness and pain, joy and grief. Today will be better, I swear. I really hope so.
God, pray that you bring us a sun tomorrow.
At the beginning it seemed like the perfect thing for both of us; a perfect romance that I’ve created in my mind but yet we find ourselves in a less than perfect circumstance. Circumstance that is beyond our control and despite how much we tried; there is nothing else we could do other than to accept defeat. It’s rather strange how fate can play a part in our lives; we had been looking and searching for answers but it just nowhere to be found. And so it seems like we'll never have the chance and somehow it wasn’t meant for us. It just won’t ever be and we lost everything that we had. I just couldn’t bear to see her in pain and I couldn’t bear to see her in tears which is why I agreed to let her go to pursue her happiness elsewhere.
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You'll never know dear, how much I love you
Please don't take my sunshine away
She always wanted me to sing her a lullaby. Like a child needs to feel safe in the world, she wants to feel safe in the arms of the people she cherishes most. I would sing to her every single night. I told her that I will love her forever and I still do. She was my soulmate and probably still is if only.
I think the world of you.
It only takes a peanut butter dessert to kick start what we had. We had lot of funs; innocent funs with no repercussions and at times it felt like we were back to high school. Some say we took those first steps too quickly. It wasn’t love right away but I was intrigued by her sense of warmth and her humor. After nights similar to the first, I began to think a lot of her. We seemed to fit so perfectly, understand each other so well that we were very comfortable having each other around and that’s when I yearned to love her. She brought out the best in me, and showed when we were together, I meant something. She might be angry with me at night but will forgive me the next morning as if nothing had happened. I just love her too much I would do anything she said. I love how she makes me smile, or cheer me up when I’m sad or down, or how she can make a joke only I will understand. She’s funny in her own ways. I love how she’ll tell me secrets that no one is supposed to know, or how she can tell a story from her day and somewhat make me feel like I was there. Every time I hear her name or know that she is near, my eyes widen and I get nervous anticipating her arrival. She had touched my heart and it altered every plan I’ve made. I promised never to stop loving her and I still kept mine.
The other night dear, as I lay sleeping
I dreamed I held you in my arms
But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken
So I hung my head and I cried.
It’s rather funny as how some feelings you can’t just deny and you can’t move on even though you try. There is a feeling of emptiness, as if someone has cut you in half. Like a child worries very much when his mom goes to hospital and he is without her. The once happiness within me dies. That feeling of emptiness. That damn terrible feeling.
27th of December 2009. The day I lost my dream. The day I lost the girl that I love.
It’s true that time can heal the wound but time can never kill the true heart. One heart out of two. One life just me and you.
Ti amo.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
The closure of a chapter (Part 1)
We're not the same, dear, as we used to be.
The seasons have changed and so have we.
There was little we could say, and even less we could do
To stop the ice from getting thinner under me and you.
It was a relationship we have to end. There’s nothing else we could do but once we did, I felt nothing but hollow. It hurts like hell. No one possibly knows how difficult it could be. No one will ever know the pain that we had to go through. “Everything will be ok, I promised you.” Those were the words I used to say to her. We did try to resist but there’s come a point where we could not lie to ourselves anymore. There is simply no light at the end of the tunnel. There is simply no other option. The choice had been made and we acknowledged our own free will to leave. The residual bitterness still lingers but we have to move on for the best of us. It all started with a call and it all ended with a call.
Maybe I should let it rest but I do dream about simpler times. This chapter would not be forgotten and soon both of us would be laughing about it over coffee. Three months of ice melted away. Yes, it was a short memory yet there is nothing but sweetness. When we were together it was rarely painful. In fact we were very happy. At times I wish we could relive the memories. At times I wish it never ends. But as at now it remains as a wish.
I was attracted to all the rights and wrongs that make up the person that was her. She knew all the ways to drive me crazy, she’s just simply irresistible. I’ll always remember the strength that she gave me. I’ll always remember the love that she gave me. I remembered the first time I hold her hand. The rest of the night was a blur until after I sent her back home safe and sound, and I found myself back in my own bed. I could not sleep a wink... well, not with that silly grin hanging off my face.
We bury our love in the wintery grave
A lump in the snow was all that remained.
But we stayed by its side as the days turned to weeks
And the ice kept getting thinner with every word that we'd speak.
And when spring arrived
We were taken by surprise when the floes under our feet bled into the sea
And nothing was left for you and me.
The feelings are mutual and no one is to be blame. Moving on from each other was one of the toughest things we have to go through. She had moved on now. And I have to. We are bound to live through all the events of our life. We may not like it, but we have to anyway. This pain will be over one day. Thanks to human nature, the tears will stop and the pain becomes milder and milder, milder and milder.
No one knows what installed for us in the future. Perhaps we were not meant for each other; perhaps we were not destined to be together. There are certain things that might remain the same. There are certain things that might change and it won’t be the same ever again. I could only hope for the best and for once I’m leaving it to fate.
We're not the same, dear,
And it seems to me
There's nowhere we can go
With nothing underneath.
And it saddens me to say
But we both know, well, it's true
That the ice was getting thinner
Under me and you.
The ice was getting thinner
Under me and you.
I think that sometimes love is the ability to let the person go. I said it to myself, “Thank you so much for having been in my life. Now, I have to let you go.” Then I may give my love as a gift, shine on others, bless those who are leaving me and let them go.
Valentine day is around the corner, I can’t help but thinking of her for a moment. Three months of ice melted away. Three months is all I had with her.
The seasons have changed and so have we.
There was little we could say, and even less we could do
To stop the ice from getting thinner under me and you.
It was a relationship we have to end. There’s nothing else we could do but once we did, I felt nothing but hollow. It hurts like hell. No one possibly knows how difficult it could be. No one will ever know the pain that we had to go through. “Everything will be ok, I promised you.” Those were the words I used to say to her. We did try to resist but there’s come a point where we could not lie to ourselves anymore. There is simply no light at the end of the tunnel. There is simply no other option. The choice had been made and we acknowledged our own free will to leave. The residual bitterness still lingers but we have to move on for the best of us. It all started with a call and it all ended with a call.
Maybe I should let it rest but I do dream about simpler times. This chapter would not be forgotten and soon both of us would be laughing about it over coffee. Three months of ice melted away. Yes, it was a short memory yet there is nothing but sweetness. When we were together it was rarely painful. In fact we were very happy. At times I wish we could relive the memories. At times I wish it never ends. But as at now it remains as a wish.
I was attracted to all the rights and wrongs that make up the person that was her. She knew all the ways to drive me crazy, she’s just simply irresistible. I’ll always remember the strength that she gave me. I’ll always remember the love that she gave me. I remembered the first time I hold her hand. The rest of the night was a blur until after I sent her back home safe and sound, and I found myself back in my own bed. I could not sleep a wink... well, not with that silly grin hanging off my face.
We bury our love in the wintery grave
A lump in the snow was all that remained.
But we stayed by its side as the days turned to weeks
And the ice kept getting thinner with every word that we'd speak.
And when spring arrived
We were taken by surprise when the floes under our feet bled into the sea
And nothing was left for you and me.
The feelings are mutual and no one is to be blame. Moving on from each other was one of the toughest things we have to go through. She had moved on now. And I have to. We are bound to live through all the events of our life. We may not like it, but we have to anyway. This pain will be over one day. Thanks to human nature, the tears will stop and the pain becomes milder and milder, milder and milder.
No one knows what installed for us in the future. Perhaps we were not meant for each other; perhaps we were not destined to be together. There are certain things that might remain the same. There are certain things that might change and it won’t be the same ever again. I could only hope for the best and for once I’m leaving it to fate.
We're not the same, dear,
And it seems to me
There's nowhere we can go
With nothing underneath.
And it saddens me to say
But we both know, well, it's true
That the ice was getting thinner
Under me and you.
The ice was getting thinner
Under me and you.
I think that sometimes love is the ability to let the person go. I said it to myself, “Thank you so much for having been in my life. Now, I have to let you go.” Then I may give my love as a gift, shine on others, bless those who are leaving me and let them go.
Valentine day is around the corner, I can’t help but thinking of her for a moment. Three months of ice melted away. Three months is all I had with her.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
You take your own medicine
It’s yet another shit week for me; things are seriously not going quite my way. I don’t expect anyone to know how my week was and I never intend to share one and it’s normal for me to not give a shit about being shitfaced at work but things are getting a little bit out of hand. My life has never ceases to be so amazing, if you tell me your life is boring I beg to differ because the world always seems to have funny endings for me. I have no idea why and I’m quite tired of searching for an answer to a question which has no answer on a daily basis. On the day I felt I could see the light at the end of the tunnel only for me to find out the light coming from the headlamps of an incoming train. And yet on my wonderful day, when I run at full speed, I run into a shithole.
I can’t tell you how I manage to refrain myself which seriously not an easy task at all, wanting to scream to the world what is not right and how things should be but I came to my senses and realized the answer to the ultimate question of the world, “Do they give a shit?" is actually NO. In fact it’s more of a feeling of disappointment with myself, how could it be possible for someone to walk into the same shithole for two fucking weeks in a row, that’s me you idiot and how could it possible for someone to be made a fool by the same person twice, that’s me again. That fucking shithole hurts but ironically my subconscious mind still thinks the shit actually taste better. On top of that, I have let myself down considerably on what I thought I had in me that was the master of supreme self confidence most of you have accustomed to hate. Being emo, I spent my weekend staring at the wall (partly thanks to being immobilized from banana leaf that I had), depressed, nostalgic and consumed lots of pineapple juice. I don’t know about you but pineapple juice calms me down. It hurts so badly that it aches physically, that the frustration and grief welling up inside is close to drowning me, that it left a scar on my heart that will take years to heal and that every fiercely hidden drop of sorrow endlessly streaming down my cheek if you believe me. All these have to be stop, I said. I sat down and began to ponder on my next move. My eyes turned to the waiter, “I’ll have air kelapa mix vodka kurang manis.” It tastes good, just the way I like it. Four years into the job, motivation level has dropped below zero but the pleasing aspect of the comfort zone coupled with the idea of facing tough interviews; achieving an IQ score of not less than 90%, 5 case studies in an hour, 3 essays writing in half an hour, public speaking in front of 25,000 spectators and finally a resistance test of swimming from Cuba to United States had put matters into perspective or rather not. No more pussiness, I’m getting a new job and Goldman Sach will have my first honour.
My friends were late. While waiting for them, I managed to make a few key observations about myself. Yes, that’s what we auditors do, we observe. We observe every movement of yours, you losers. Now, go buy me some drinks and I will write a good report. Two nights ago, when I was driving around PJ, I stopped at a traffic light beside a well polished Mitsubishi Lancer (many said a direct competitor to my civic) and I was taken aback when I turned and saw the driver; a stunningly hot, long-haired creature of such beauty that I literally caught my breath but it was only lasted a good ten seconds for after that she started to dig her nose, stuffing a slim, feminine finger up her nostril and started violating the hole in obvious pleasure. "Holy fuck!!” I shouted. It was like getting into bed with Jessica Alba and finding out that she has a penis. Okay, back to main topic, I realized 3 key points about me that highly contributes to my shitweek: 1) Ability to talk in such convincing manner people around me actually thought I was good despite the fact I absolutely know nothing at all on the subject which then translates to me being given extra responsibilities which I had so much difficulties in completing it. 2) Inability to stop thinking; you know when you had an interesting conversation with someone or you had read something fascinating or you picked up a new hobby or you had experienced a significant event, you can’t stop thinking about it and your brain will take some random thoughts from each event and churns it together and make a good storyline that will occupied your mind which then makes sleeping impossible. 3) I get bored easily and I can’t focus on one thing for long. I truly suffered when I look at the set of accounts which I need to rush for Bank Negara because I spend at least 40 minutes worrying about paying my credit card bills, another 30 minutes on how to turn from one pack into six and what to have for my dinner, when my job is hanging on the line and I know I'm going to complain about lack of time.
Needless to say, I’m able to draw line between such formless thoughts/dreams with reality. There is nothing to worry about although sometimes when I speak I use 3 different languages in one sentence. I rather see these as mental conditions and not problems. It’s who I am and I hope I come across as pretty much normal to most of you. To allay any fears, a post mortem was immediately carried out with a hastily assembled group of highly acclaimed professionals in their respective fields. It was agreed that my mental conditions is nothing more than a state of existence where you wander around without any clothes on and no one notices until it is too late. It is often metaphors of your suppressed thoughts and feelings; it is possible that your mind induced to believe that you are a butterfly you will wake up to find yourself a dragonfly. Many argued that such unstructured behavior is the Jews way of controlling your mind and despite being heavily mixed I am not a Jew and hence I’m perfectly fine.
And out of sudden, it dawned on me, a solution to the above: I need a holiday! I had the bright idea to bring my close mates together for a mad-ass holiday getaway to Phuket, Thailand, getting together for a jaunt to a beautiful tropical island to dive (maybe not), eat (gorging on wonderful Thai food), drink (yes, getting piss-drunk) and make the acquaintances of a large number of attractive foreign ladies with loose bikini strings but I know like many times before to get this faggots for a holiday is like braving Africa dessert alone and killing at least two tigers along the way. For now, air kelapa mix vodka kurang manis seems more a realistic option for me. Apart from getting it cheap, I feel this entire process is healthy for the mind; it’s a vital form of release where you forget everything that happens to you though excessive consumption will lead you to talk extra loud and fast (first warning sign) before you proceed to spit on people’ faces while talking to them.
I know exactly what went through your mind when the news of censoring the internet filtered out, both you and I aware we are facing our worst fear but thank God, it did not materialize. There is some light after all.
I can’t tell you how I manage to refrain myself which seriously not an easy task at all, wanting to scream to the world what is not right and how things should be but I came to my senses and realized the answer to the ultimate question of the world, “Do they give a shit?" is actually NO. In fact it’s more of a feeling of disappointment with myself, how could it be possible for someone to walk into the same shithole for two fucking weeks in a row, that’s me you idiot and how could it possible for someone to be made a fool by the same person twice, that’s me again. That fucking shithole hurts but ironically my subconscious mind still thinks the shit actually taste better. On top of that, I have let myself down considerably on what I thought I had in me that was the master of supreme self confidence most of you have accustomed to hate. Being emo, I spent my weekend staring at the wall (partly thanks to being immobilized from banana leaf that I had), depressed, nostalgic and consumed lots of pineapple juice. I don’t know about you but pineapple juice calms me down. It hurts so badly that it aches physically, that the frustration and grief welling up inside is close to drowning me, that it left a scar on my heart that will take years to heal and that every fiercely hidden drop of sorrow endlessly streaming down my cheek if you believe me. All these have to be stop, I said. I sat down and began to ponder on my next move. My eyes turned to the waiter, “I’ll have air kelapa mix vodka kurang manis.” It tastes good, just the way I like it. Four years into the job, motivation level has dropped below zero but the pleasing aspect of the comfort zone coupled with the idea of facing tough interviews; achieving an IQ score of not less than 90%, 5 case studies in an hour, 3 essays writing in half an hour, public speaking in front of 25,000 spectators and finally a resistance test of swimming from Cuba to United States had put matters into perspective or rather not. No more pussiness, I’m getting a new job and Goldman Sach will have my first honour.
My friends were late. While waiting for them, I managed to make a few key observations about myself. Yes, that’s what we auditors do, we observe. We observe every movement of yours, you losers. Now, go buy me some drinks and I will write a good report. Two nights ago, when I was driving around PJ, I stopped at a traffic light beside a well polished Mitsubishi Lancer (many said a direct competitor to my civic) and I was taken aback when I turned and saw the driver; a stunningly hot, long-haired creature of such beauty that I literally caught my breath but it was only lasted a good ten seconds for after that she started to dig her nose, stuffing a slim, feminine finger up her nostril and started violating the hole in obvious pleasure. "Holy fuck!!” I shouted. It was like getting into bed with Jessica Alba and finding out that she has a penis. Okay, back to main topic, I realized 3 key points about me that highly contributes to my shitweek: 1) Ability to talk in such convincing manner people around me actually thought I was good despite the fact I absolutely know nothing at all on the subject which then translates to me being given extra responsibilities which I had so much difficulties in completing it. 2) Inability to stop thinking; you know when you had an interesting conversation with someone or you had read something fascinating or you picked up a new hobby or you had experienced a significant event, you can’t stop thinking about it and your brain will take some random thoughts from each event and churns it together and make a good storyline that will occupied your mind which then makes sleeping impossible. 3) I get bored easily and I can’t focus on one thing for long. I truly suffered when I look at the set of accounts which I need to rush for Bank Negara because I spend at least 40 minutes worrying about paying my credit card bills, another 30 minutes on how to turn from one pack into six and what to have for my dinner, when my job is hanging on the line and I know I'm going to complain about lack of time.
Needless to say, I’m able to draw line between such formless thoughts/dreams with reality. There is nothing to worry about although sometimes when I speak I use 3 different languages in one sentence. I rather see these as mental conditions and not problems. It’s who I am and I hope I come across as pretty much normal to most of you. To allay any fears, a post mortem was immediately carried out with a hastily assembled group of highly acclaimed professionals in their respective fields. It was agreed that my mental conditions is nothing more than a state of existence where you wander around without any clothes on and no one notices until it is too late. It is often metaphors of your suppressed thoughts and feelings; it is possible that your mind induced to believe that you are a butterfly you will wake up to find yourself a dragonfly. Many argued that such unstructured behavior is the Jews way of controlling your mind and despite being heavily mixed I am not a Jew and hence I’m perfectly fine.
And out of sudden, it dawned on me, a solution to the above: I need a holiday! I had the bright idea to bring my close mates together for a mad-ass holiday getaway to Phuket, Thailand, getting together for a jaunt to a beautiful tropical island to dive (maybe not), eat (gorging on wonderful Thai food), drink (yes, getting piss-drunk) and make the acquaintances of a large number of attractive foreign ladies with loose bikini strings but I know like many times before to get this faggots for a holiday is like braving Africa dessert alone and killing at least two tigers along the way. For now, air kelapa mix vodka kurang manis seems more a realistic option for me. Apart from getting it cheap, I feel this entire process is healthy for the mind; it’s a vital form of release where you forget everything that happens to you though excessive consumption will lead you to talk extra loud and fast (first warning sign) before you proceed to spit on people’ faces while talking to them.
I know exactly what went through your mind when the news of censoring the internet filtered out, both you and I aware we are facing our worst fear but thank God, it did not materialize. There is some light after all.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
10 things I should do before I'm 30
It’s been well documented that turning 30 is the point of no return not because the genetics is against you (which actually quite true in a sense because you cannot get fat around any part except the face and the belly and your hairline is desperate to meet your lower part) but rather the 30-year-old-syndrome-I’m-too-old-for-this-you-should-ask-me-five-years-earlier. On your 30th birthday, the not-so-forgiving Zeus will knock on your dream and say, “Son, turning 30 is no laughing matter, especially your hairline is receding rapidly and you are soon to be father for first time ever although the Supreme Council is yet to identify the identity of your child bearer. You will be engulfed by the feelings of fear, anguish and the unknown lay trapped beneath a mountain of questions and self-doubt. Let me emphasize this once and for all, your body will undergo a gruesome transformation and your soul will yearns to stay attached to the adventure of the 20’s which of course something of a past. My advice is simple; throw away the mirrors and you better get married before it’s too late!”
Let’s not reflect on what will you accomplish before you turn 30 or rather what you should accomplish before you turn 30 which in this case you are actually me. After months of consideration with much bloodshed, tears and zen-ness, I managed to trim down from a list of 1,548 items to just 10 as I'd rather not bother you with too many details.
1) Make my first million - 27 years ago, the not-so-forgiving Zeus knocked on my mom’s dream and told her “I don’t want to confuse you with the complexity of our situation but in a nutshell, your son should be born from February 20 to March 20. Traditionally, he will be ruled by the planet Jupiter but because the Almighty Aristotle is still recovering from alcoholism Pluto is no longer considered a planet and Neptune has taken over Jupiter’s place. He’s a Piscean but he has no talent in swimming and with all other Pisceans, he’s a dreamer armed with a lot of ambitious plans. But Madam, your son is the special one. He might be talking a lot about plans and ambitions and achieving little but you need not worry, your son will prevail!"
2) Date Jessica Alba or her resemblance at least - Without a doubt, she is the sexiest/absolutely stunning/hot actress ever. I got the feeling she might be a dumb bimbo but who cares! Her acting may not be great but sheer beauty makes you watch her do anything and do anything for her you will. Damn to hell the tricks nature plays on human males. Blessed with a body to die for, most straight guys would probably need a cold shower after seeing her. I could die a happy man if I had the chance to even say hi to her.
3) Visit at least one of the seven natures of the world - Imagine witnessing the awesome power and magnitude of Mother Nature first hand. You stood corrected, bewildered, entranced, enamored and wondering what has come over you, you'll realize that the answer is simple; it's pure bliss.
4) Watch the Champions League final live - For me, World Cup is overrated. Disagree? How many of the games actually live up to the reputation that precedes them? In all the matches I had seen so far, it’s either end up being heavily one sided or simply very drab and defensive-minded. Champions League football is much more entertaining and of course there is Manchester United element in there.
5) Watch a strip show - Watching strip show is just not about satisfying lust. After all, how much satisfaction one can get when all you see is silicone fake plastic boobs which feel no difference than a car tyre. But knowing the sacrifices that these women made and the sufferings they had been through had actually brought tears in my eyes and truly deserved my support.
6) Participate in an extreme sport - There are many strange and bewildering phobias, many of which are yet to be discover but acrophobia had always been associated with my species. Skydiving anyone?
7) Buy around-the-world air ticket and run away - That includes Antartica! The bottom of the world isolated from the rest, larger than Europe and United States combined, the last unspoiled place on the planet, clearly nature is in charge here, you will be amazed at the abundance of diverse wildlife that seems to be untroubled by the presence of humans. Its peculiar beauty will haunt you for the rest of your life!
8) Learn to cook at least one signature dish - You would not believe me if I am to tell you I managed to came up with a few creations of mine which is not just extremely deliciously-tasty-heavenly-appetizingly-nice-to-eat-bar-the-consequences but dead-easy to make but unfortunately I misplaced the goddamn recipe.
9) Stop walking into the same manhole twice - You see, God is fair. If you don’t learn your lesson, God will make sure you walk to the same fucking manhole but the only difference is that the next hurts more than the previous but of course my retarded genetic never able to grip with the fact for I would repeat the same fucking shit again the next day accidentally.
10) Say “I love you” to both of my parents - “You have no guts to do it, you Asian farts!” Hannah Montana.
Let’s not reflect on what will you accomplish before you turn 30 or rather what you should accomplish before you turn 30 which in this case you are actually me. After months of consideration with much bloodshed, tears and zen-ness, I managed to trim down from a list of 1,548 items to just 10 as I'd rather not bother you with too many details.
1) Make my first million - 27 years ago, the not-so-forgiving Zeus knocked on my mom’s dream and told her “I don’t want to confuse you with the complexity of our situation but in a nutshell, your son should be born from February 20 to March 20. Traditionally, he will be ruled by the planet Jupiter but because the Almighty Aristotle is still recovering from alcoholism Pluto is no longer considered a planet and Neptune has taken over Jupiter’s place. He’s a Piscean but he has no talent in swimming and with all other Pisceans, he’s a dreamer armed with a lot of ambitious plans. But Madam, your son is the special one. He might be talking a lot about plans and ambitions and achieving little but you need not worry, your son will prevail!"
2) Date Jessica Alba or her resemblance at least - Without a doubt, she is the sexiest/absolutely stunning/hot actress ever. I got the feeling she might be a dumb bimbo but who cares! Her acting may not be great but sheer beauty makes you watch her do anything and do anything for her you will. Damn to hell the tricks nature plays on human males. Blessed with a body to die for, most straight guys would probably need a cold shower after seeing her. I could die a happy man if I had the chance to even say hi to her.
3) Visit at least one of the seven natures of the world - Imagine witnessing the awesome power and magnitude of Mother Nature first hand. You stood corrected, bewildered, entranced, enamored and wondering what has come over you, you'll realize that the answer is simple; it's pure bliss.
4) Watch the Champions League final live - For me, World Cup is overrated. Disagree? How many of the games actually live up to the reputation that precedes them? In all the matches I had seen so far, it’s either end up being heavily one sided or simply very drab and defensive-minded. Champions League football is much more entertaining and of course there is Manchester United element in there.
5) Watch a strip show - Watching strip show is just not about satisfying lust. After all, how much satisfaction one can get when all you see is silicone fake plastic boobs which feel no difference than a car tyre. But knowing the sacrifices that these women made and the sufferings they had been through had actually brought tears in my eyes and truly deserved my support.
6) Participate in an extreme sport - There are many strange and bewildering phobias, many of which are yet to be discover but acrophobia had always been associated with my species. Skydiving anyone?
7) Buy around-the-world air ticket and run away - That includes Antartica! The bottom of the world isolated from the rest, larger than Europe and United States combined, the last unspoiled place on the planet, clearly nature is in charge here, you will be amazed at the abundance of diverse wildlife that seems to be untroubled by the presence of humans. Its peculiar beauty will haunt you for the rest of your life!
8) Learn to cook at least one signature dish - You would not believe me if I am to tell you I managed to came up with a few creations of mine which is not just extremely deliciously-tasty-heavenly-appetizingly-nice-to-eat-bar-the-consequences but dead-easy to make but unfortunately I misplaced the goddamn recipe.
9) Stop walking into the same manhole twice - You see, God is fair. If you don’t learn your lesson, God will make sure you walk to the same fucking manhole but the only difference is that the next hurts more than the previous but of course my retarded genetic never able to grip with the fact for I would repeat the same fucking shit again the next day accidentally.
10) Say “I love you” to both of my parents - “You have no guts to do it, you Asian farts!” Hannah Montana.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Idling into an idle mind
When I was 16, an acute “gentleman” an ex-teacher of mine bathed me with his wisdom's pouch, used to say he never knew a boy who could do less work in more time; and I remember my poor mother once incidentally observing (truly more than once), in the course of an ordinary business, that it was highly improbable that I should ever do much that I ought not to do, but that she felt convinced beyond a doubt that I should leave undone pretty well everything that I ought to do.
I am afraid I have somewhat belied half my mom’s prophecy. Dear God, what have you done to me! I have done a good many things that I ought not to have done, in spite of my laziness. But I have fully confirmed the accuracy of her judgment so far as neglecting much that I ought not to have neglected is concerned. Idling always has been my strong point. I take no credit to myself in the matter; it is a gift. Few possess it. There are plenty of lazy people and plenty of slow-coaches, but a genuine idler is a rarity. He is not a man who slouches about with his hands in his pockets. On the contrary, his most startling characteristic is that he is always intensely busy.
Conspiracy theorists have speculated over the years that there is indeed a mysterious cult named Idleness that exists and is hell-bent on spreading the epidemic onto people with high density of indolence, potential people like you. Their cult leader is said to be the great Charles Darwin who is rumored to be the same person as Donald Trump. For many years, their existence was disputed among well-known scholars, until in the year, 1982 on March 13th when it was officially announced by a very joyful father that mass idleness is very much in the scene.
People like me according to the common mythology would able to survive in various generation that may exist. Working alongside workaholic nazis has never been an issue. All of us are busy; the only difference is mine is an act. It is impossible to enjoy idling thoroughly unless one has plenty of work to do. There is no fun in doing nothing when you have nothing to do. Wasting time is merely an occupation then, and a most exhausting one. Idleness must be stolen. I like idling when I ought not to be idling; not when it is the only thing I have to do. That is my nature. The time when I like best to stand with my back to the fire, is when my workload is insurmountable with brutally tight dateline. When I like to dally longest over my dinner is when I have a heavy evening's work before me. And if, for some urgent reason, I ought to be up particularly early in the morning, it is then, more than at any other time in the world that I love to lie an extra half-hour in bed. No issue there.
Ah! how delicious it is to turn over and go to sleep again: "just for five minutes." Snooze button? Yes. Just for five minutes, I promised. Snooze button? Yes. Another five minutes, please. Is there any human being, I wonder, besides my father who ever gets up willingly? Ah! My father, he’s my faithful “alarm clock” for 15 years. Back then, there’s no such thing as five minutes. Before even two minutes past, a kick on my backside is reckoned.
There are some men to whom getting up at the proper time is an utter impossibility. If eight o'clock happens to be the time that they should turn out, then they would lie for another half-hour. If circumstances change and half-past eight becomes early enough for them, then nine o’clock would have its honour. They are like the purveyor of their own principle; always punctually half an hour late. They try all manner of schemes. They buy alarm-clocks (artful contrivances that go off at the wrong time and alarm the wrong people). They tell Oprah Winfrey to knock at the door and call them, and Oprah Winfrey does knock at the door and does call them, only for them to grunt back "arrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhh, go away you fat racist bitch!" and then go comfortably to sleep again. I knew one man who would actually get out and have a cold bath; and even that was of no use because afterward he would jump into bed again to warm himself which does reminds a little bit of myself.
I think I could keep out of bed all right, no issue if I once got out. Now, come the hardest part. It is the wrenching away of the head from the pillow that I find so hard, the comfyness, the softness of the touch, the restfulness that befalls on the head and no amount of over-night determination or any other temptation makes it easier. I say to myself, after having wasted the whole evening contemplating, "Well, I won't do any more work tonight. I’m done here; I'll get up early tomorrow morning and I’ll continue my work;" and I am comprehensively resolved to do so, before I jump to bed. However, the next morning has its own story, I feel less enthusiastic about the idea and reflect that it would have been much better if I had continued last night.
It is a strange thing that this bed, this little comfy grave of ours can do. "Oh bed, oh bed, my lovely bed, I love being in my bed, while I lie and dream at night, the stars and moon are shining bright, then I wake up the next day, the bed is so warm till I headache, so I go back to sleep again, but if I sleep I would be dead, so I’ll wake up for work which I hate, and go to work and I’ll be late."
Good night, everyone.
I am afraid I have somewhat belied half my mom’s prophecy. Dear God, what have you done to me! I have done a good many things that I ought not to have done, in spite of my laziness. But I have fully confirmed the accuracy of her judgment so far as neglecting much that I ought not to have neglected is concerned. Idling always has been my strong point. I take no credit to myself in the matter; it is a gift. Few possess it. There are plenty of lazy people and plenty of slow-coaches, but a genuine idler is a rarity. He is not a man who slouches about with his hands in his pockets. On the contrary, his most startling characteristic is that he is always intensely busy.
Conspiracy theorists have speculated over the years that there is indeed a mysterious cult named Idleness that exists and is hell-bent on spreading the epidemic onto people with high density of indolence, potential people like you. Their cult leader is said to be the great Charles Darwin who is rumored to be the same person as Donald Trump. For many years, their existence was disputed among well-known scholars, until in the year, 1982 on March 13th when it was officially announced by a very joyful father that mass idleness is very much in the scene.
People like me according to the common mythology would able to survive in various generation that may exist. Working alongside workaholic nazis has never been an issue. All of us are busy; the only difference is mine is an act. It is impossible to enjoy idling thoroughly unless one has plenty of work to do. There is no fun in doing nothing when you have nothing to do. Wasting time is merely an occupation then, and a most exhausting one. Idleness must be stolen. I like idling when I ought not to be idling; not when it is the only thing I have to do. That is my nature. The time when I like best to stand with my back to the fire, is when my workload is insurmountable with brutally tight dateline. When I like to dally longest over my dinner is when I have a heavy evening's work before me. And if, for some urgent reason, I ought to be up particularly early in the morning, it is then, more than at any other time in the world that I love to lie an extra half-hour in bed. No issue there.
Ah! how delicious it is to turn over and go to sleep again: "just for five minutes." Snooze button? Yes. Just for five minutes, I promised. Snooze button? Yes. Another five minutes, please. Is there any human being, I wonder, besides my father who ever gets up willingly? Ah! My father, he’s my faithful “alarm clock” for 15 years. Back then, there’s no such thing as five minutes. Before even two minutes past, a kick on my backside is reckoned.
There are some men to whom getting up at the proper time is an utter impossibility. If eight o'clock happens to be the time that they should turn out, then they would lie for another half-hour. If circumstances change and half-past eight becomes early enough for them, then nine o’clock would have its honour. They are like the purveyor of their own principle; always punctually half an hour late. They try all manner of schemes. They buy alarm-clocks (artful contrivances that go off at the wrong time and alarm the wrong people). They tell Oprah Winfrey to knock at the door and call them, and Oprah Winfrey does knock at the door and does call them, only for them to grunt back "arrrrrrrrrrrrghhhhhhh, go away you fat racist bitch!" and then go comfortably to sleep again. I knew one man who would actually get out and have a cold bath; and even that was of no use because afterward he would jump into bed again to warm himself which does reminds a little bit of myself.
I think I could keep out of bed all right, no issue if I once got out. Now, come the hardest part. It is the wrenching away of the head from the pillow that I find so hard, the comfyness, the softness of the touch, the restfulness that befalls on the head and no amount of over-night determination or any other temptation makes it easier. I say to myself, after having wasted the whole evening contemplating, "Well, I won't do any more work tonight. I’m done here; I'll get up early tomorrow morning and I’ll continue my work;" and I am comprehensively resolved to do so, before I jump to bed. However, the next morning has its own story, I feel less enthusiastic about the idea and reflect that it would have been much better if I had continued last night.
It is a strange thing that this bed, this little comfy grave of ours can do. "Oh bed, oh bed, my lovely bed, I love being in my bed, while I lie and dream at night, the stars and moon are shining bright, then I wake up the next day, the bed is so warm till I headache, so I go back to sleep again, but if I sleep I would be dead, so I’ll wake up for work which I hate, and go to work and I’ll be late."
Good night, everyone.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Passion of the virgins
Lately, I had been engaging in a rather fascinating topic which rather amazingly still exist in this 21st century; obsession with virgins. Despite all the advancement in all things around us it’s sad to note the evolvement is still not beyond the point where one’s sexual experience does influence on a person’s social status. Most guys, even though some might not admit openly prefers virgin women. Deep down, the male egocentric induced fantasy about having a “clean” partner ranks high in their wish list like the old saying, “Men like to boldly go where no man has gone before.” It is an instinctive behavior ingrained in human males from thousands of years of evolution. A case in point, the muslim terrorists think that if they become a martyr they'll get 72 virgins in heaven, silly motherfuckers.
The current epidemic rise of obsession with female virginity can be attributed to many factors such as bragging rights and pride. Some are looking to be the one that is remembered forever assuming that woman has a special memory on those who took it, probably to boast their ego while some merely don’t want a girl who had been with tons of guys before. Innocent in itself is captivating, which is why so many guys like the 18-21 girls. The idea of an innocent girl untouched is just a great aphrodisiac for men. However, most scholars agreed that the main reason behind this is no doubt the result of lacking in sexual confidence. It’s just as simple as she won't know if he sucks in bed because she has no expectations of what to expect.
The funny fact is most guys are virgins whilst girls are not, such impossibility do happen. Trust me; I can confirm that guys hate to be virgins. There’s nothing more fatal than death to be named the 30-year old virgin. Whether you like it or not there are more virgin men then women and as we all know they (referring to both virgin men and women) are actually endangered species on the verge of extinction with the new generation at hand, how sad.
Anyway, this obsession has to be put to an end. My point is does it really matters so much? If you’re attracted to that person, would you change your mind just because of her virginity status? I doubt it. Does it make you love her more or less if she’s a virgin? I doubt it. Does it make you more or less of a person if you've had sex or not? I doubt it either. Some skeptics have suggested that I only say this because it rhymes. Well, it does rhymes but the point is does it makes any difference? I doubt it.
For me, I’m not part of the number of men who are obsessed with virgins. Yes, you heard me and I’m not writing this to impress. It’s just not important to me, insignificant if compared to her personality and attitude towards life and things like that. I am happy for the girl if she has not succumbed to peer pressure or hormonal love but I can't see how it affects our relationship. If I had the choice, I would wait for someone that I truly cared about and expecting them to do the same for me. Sometimes you made the right choices sometimes you made the wrong choices bla bla bla, it’s all part of the continuing learning process just as long as it ends the right way, I hope it does and I won’t bored you with further details. Nonetheless, women who are still virgins today get my ultimate respect and adoration, I’m aware some is waiting to give something special to her husband that no other guy can say he’s had and that itself deserved much more respect than silly “whores” out there who fuck for a free dinner and a few glasses of COCKtails and as for men who are still virgins today, you deserved it too because it shows you have self control and restraint.
Am I giving moral-fibre statement here? Cosmic order of the Universal Morality/Spiritual perhaps? Or perhaps my inner holiness takes precedent over my inner ability to stop thinking in a very inner modest way? Or perhaps I prefer women who have some experience and know what she’s doing. Truth unveiled at last! Ahaaa……….
The current epidemic rise of obsession with female virginity can be attributed to many factors such as bragging rights and pride. Some are looking to be the one that is remembered forever assuming that woman has a special memory on those who took it, probably to boast their ego while some merely don’t want a girl who had been with tons of guys before. Innocent in itself is captivating, which is why so many guys like the 18-21 girls. The idea of an innocent girl untouched is just a great aphrodisiac for men. However, most scholars agreed that the main reason behind this is no doubt the result of lacking in sexual confidence. It’s just as simple as she won't know if he sucks in bed because she has no expectations of what to expect.
The funny fact is most guys are virgins whilst girls are not, such impossibility do happen. Trust me; I can confirm that guys hate to be virgins. There’s nothing more fatal than death to be named the 30-year old virgin. Whether you like it or not there are more virgin men then women and as we all know they (referring to both virgin men and women) are actually endangered species on the verge of extinction with the new generation at hand, how sad.
Anyway, this obsession has to be put to an end. My point is does it really matters so much? If you’re attracted to that person, would you change your mind just because of her virginity status? I doubt it. Does it make you love her more or less if she’s a virgin? I doubt it. Does it make you more or less of a person if you've had sex or not? I doubt it either. Some skeptics have suggested that I only say this because it rhymes. Well, it does rhymes but the point is does it makes any difference? I doubt it.
For me, I’m not part of the number of men who are obsessed with virgins. Yes, you heard me and I’m not writing this to impress. It’s just not important to me, insignificant if compared to her personality and attitude towards life and things like that. I am happy for the girl if she has not succumbed to peer pressure or hormonal love but I can't see how it affects our relationship. If I had the choice, I would wait for someone that I truly cared about and expecting them to do the same for me. Sometimes you made the right choices sometimes you made the wrong choices bla bla bla, it’s all part of the continuing learning process just as long as it ends the right way, I hope it does and I won’t bored you with further details. Nonetheless, women who are still virgins today get my ultimate respect and adoration, I’m aware some is waiting to give something special to her husband that no other guy can say he’s had and that itself deserved much more respect than silly “whores” out there who fuck for a free dinner and a few glasses of COCKtails and as for men who are still virgins today, you deserved it too because it shows you have self control and restraint.
Am I giving moral-fibre statement here? Cosmic order of the Universal Morality/Spiritual perhaps? Or perhaps my inner holiness takes precedent over my inner ability to stop thinking in a very inner modest way? Or perhaps I prefer women who have some experience and know what she’s doing. Truth unveiled at last! Ahaaa……….
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Trials of the promethean curse
When I sit down and think about all the responsible things I had done and capable of doing, I ended up realizing the brutal truth that is what had been achieved is no way near being magical which is simply not good enough for smartass like me. Please do allow me to share with you my grief in a very humbly manner.
First of all, I thank God for giving me so much talent. Unfortunately, I could not live to up to the hype and after several weeks of deliberation a somber decision was made, I decided to neutralize my supernatural-powers and so I sat down with a psychiatrist. Here is some of her diagnosis on my fearsome powers.
1) I’m a gifted prodigy at dodging real problems.
Her comment: You live in a state of denial. Because of your monstrous egotism, you would blame anything except you when things are not going your way which is good considering you would not wasting time by feeling guilty and keeps your emo-ness in complete minimal. With this you would able to focus entirely on you pre-set priorities and you could be a millionaire by the age of 30 IN WHICH I MADE UP THE LAST PART.
2) I came out with an interesting theory on a daily basis and my latest (scientifically test proved) being the relationship between my name and my current level of laziness.
Her comment: Being a procrastinator is not at all a bad thing for you because when you are physically idle your mind swiftly enters into a realm-of-inner-metaphor-ism and your creativity tends to increase ten fold which explains the interesting theories that you had and your ability to made up stories in such realism that people would actually believe in you which does speak volume for your highly rated bullshitblog. This capacity is a subset of talent 1.
3) I flourish in talking the same bullshit to different group of friends or to same group on different occasions and impress them admirably.
Her comment: In today’s world, it’s imperative to have a good balance in both exaggeration and repetition of old shit. You manage to synchronize both and this could serve as a winning formula for success. This capacity is a subset of talent 2.
We ended our session in a quick 15 minutes because I do not think she is good at her job or she just being too sympathetic on my needs. I finished the conversation with a lofty “YOU HAVE NO IDEA ON WHAT YOU ARE DOING. YOU ARE THE WORST PSYCHIATRIST I EVER SEEN NOTWITHSTANDING YOU ARE THE FIRST ONE I MET. SHALL WE GO ON A DATE, INSTEAD?”
It’s sad to note that even people with supernatural-powers is not perfect and has its own flaw like Superman’s fear of kryptonite. I for one had far too many. The leader of all flaws, I JUST NEVER LEARNED FROM PAST MISTAKES. Don’t know. Don’t care. Don’t give a damn. Never have. Never will. How long will such immature ignorant act prolong in my utter shit world? How long would I need to suffer for my own stupidity? I could not help but feel disgusted and disheartened with myself for things that I keep repeating despite knowing it would lead me to the same shithole and my inability to learn time and time again left my loved ones in absolute repulsion and aghast and it’s a rather phenomenal mystery if you think about it that even a genius like me had no answer to. Mind you, it’s yet to be solved by our fellow thinkers as well.
This same fucking shit had me depressed far too many times. And when I’m depressed, I would spent a night in a brewery and when I spent a night in a brewery, I would be given the honor of a full-day hangover and when I have a full-day hangover, I’m depressed and the cycle would repeat itself all over again which does seems to has identical similarity to I JUST NEVER LEARNED FROM PAST MISTAKES. This on-going battle with depression was abruptly ended when my super-mother decided to take things under her own hands. “Enough is enough. You have to stop this” she said. Being my obedient way, I decided to publicly announce my intention to quit drinking with a hastily arranged press conference; I was almost in tears at that moment. 24 hours later after hearing my shocker, God was so angry that he decided to punish my country with heavy rains for the next few months and KL would be bloody flooded if no drastic action taken and left me with no choice but to sacrifice myself for the good of our people and the next minute I was in a drinking binge and we are back to square one, aren’t we?
To my fellow warriors, please do not give up and we will continue fighting no matter how long it takes us. To my two mates (names not to be disclose due to security reasons) who saved me from a shithole, dinner at my expense but go easy on the bill please.
First of all, I thank God for giving me so much talent. Unfortunately, I could not live to up to the hype and after several weeks of deliberation a somber decision was made, I decided to neutralize my supernatural-powers and so I sat down with a psychiatrist. Here is some of her diagnosis on my fearsome powers.
1) I’m a gifted prodigy at dodging real problems.
Her comment: You live in a state of denial. Because of your monstrous egotism, you would blame anything except you when things are not going your way which is good considering you would not wasting time by feeling guilty and keeps your emo-ness in complete minimal. With this you would able to focus entirely on you pre-set priorities and you could be a millionaire by the age of 30 IN WHICH I MADE UP THE LAST PART.
2) I came out with an interesting theory on a daily basis and my latest (scientifically test proved) being the relationship between my name and my current level of laziness.
Her comment: Being a procrastinator is not at all a bad thing for you because when you are physically idle your mind swiftly enters into a realm-of-inner-metaphor-ism and your creativity tends to increase ten fold which explains the interesting theories that you had and your ability to made up stories in such realism that people would actually believe in you which does speak volume for your highly rated bullshitblog. This capacity is a subset of talent 1.
3) I flourish in talking the same bullshit to different group of friends or to same group on different occasions and impress them admirably.
Her comment: In today’s world, it’s imperative to have a good balance in both exaggeration and repetition of old shit. You manage to synchronize both and this could serve as a winning formula for success. This capacity is a subset of talent 2.
We ended our session in a quick 15 minutes because I do not think she is good at her job or she just being too sympathetic on my needs. I finished the conversation with a lofty “YOU HAVE NO IDEA ON WHAT YOU ARE DOING. YOU ARE THE WORST PSYCHIATRIST I EVER SEEN NOTWITHSTANDING YOU ARE THE FIRST ONE I MET. SHALL WE GO ON A DATE, INSTEAD?”
It’s sad to note that even people with supernatural-powers is not perfect and has its own flaw like Superman’s fear of kryptonite. I for one had far too many. The leader of all flaws, I JUST NEVER LEARNED FROM PAST MISTAKES. Don’t know. Don’t care. Don’t give a damn. Never have. Never will. How long will such immature ignorant act prolong in my utter shit world? How long would I need to suffer for my own stupidity? I could not help but feel disgusted and disheartened with myself for things that I keep repeating despite knowing it would lead me to the same shithole and my inability to learn time and time again left my loved ones in absolute repulsion and aghast and it’s a rather phenomenal mystery if you think about it that even a genius like me had no answer to. Mind you, it’s yet to be solved by our fellow thinkers as well.
This same fucking shit had me depressed far too many times. And when I’m depressed, I would spent a night in a brewery and when I spent a night in a brewery, I would be given the honor of a full-day hangover and when I have a full-day hangover, I’m depressed and the cycle would repeat itself all over again which does seems to has identical similarity to I JUST NEVER LEARNED FROM PAST MISTAKES. This on-going battle with depression was abruptly ended when my super-mother decided to take things under her own hands. “Enough is enough. You have to stop this” she said. Being my obedient way, I decided to publicly announce my intention to quit drinking with a hastily arranged press conference; I was almost in tears at that moment. 24 hours later after hearing my shocker, God was so angry that he decided to punish my country with heavy rains for the next few months and KL would be bloody flooded if no drastic action taken and left me with no choice but to sacrifice myself for the good of our people and the next minute I was in a drinking binge and we are back to square one, aren’t we?
To my fellow warriors, please do not give up and we will continue fighting no matter how long it takes us. To my two mates (names not to be disclose due to security reasons) who saved me from a shithole, dinner at my expense but go easy on the bill please.
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