how strange, innocence

I love my blog. It affords me an absolute freedom of expression that I would not exercise under normal daily life circumstances as due to a perpetual heavy work stress condition that is only exacerbated by my perfectionist work ethics, I would normally be quite strung up and would not give two hoots about talking more than is necessary to get what I want out of people; let alone talking stupid about people, whom I also perceive to be stupid, in general.

But then again, I am the type who stereotype (that somehow sounded stupid). Anyone who doesn’t fall under my purview of fun- that is loosely characterized by an overkilling affinity towards substance abuse-induced stupidity, they would naturally fall into the category reserved for those lame shit type of people who are either too chicken shit or egoistic to make a fool out of themselves i.e. uninteresting people whom I would not want to waste my precious time that would be more productively spent on chatting up 15 year old girls online on a Friday nite.

The irony being I am surrounded on a daily basis by these sorta queer folks everywhere. That is the sad truth about local universities. It gives me the creeps that everyone behaves like they have been in-bred for the past 7 generations. They look the same (wear glasses, go everywhere in their over-sized tees and unkempt pimply-teenage-hobo-werewolf appearance); everyone can’t speak English to save their mother from being eaten alive by Hannibal Lecter (I know I come out with the most amazing analogies that makes little or no sense but nonetheless, very appropriate); still believes in the lie that their parents told them 15 years ago that if they keep up with their parrot-like behavior of scoring straight A’s in university by regurgitation in the absence of comprehension- in the end of the day it would mean that they are educated and formal education would make them the richest person on earth (I am educated, not because of the system but despite the system); and everyone wants to get married before they turn 25 for fear of some unknown fatal societal force of loneliness that is also known as being a virgin.

Bearing witness to good ole’ stupidity of youth seeping out of every corner of life creeps me out. What ever happened to “Hey, why don’t you live a’lil?” and by that I don’t mean let’s go play bowling or go for church group meetings, mind you.

And the worse thing is, unlike what most may unfoundedly think- this phenomenon of boredom enshrined does not occur just among the Non-English speaking students. The general elitist mentality among us English speakers in Malaysia is that somehow our shit does not stink compared to the rest who are more comfortable conversing in their Chinese mother tongues. That somehow, there is always a make-believe dichotomy between us and them that makes everything that we do or have to be better than whatever that is associated with Them. I say to hell with all these bullshit imaginary social demarcations that could only separate because someone is too dumb to see beyond lucid background and linguistic differences. English or Non-English speakers are all the same lot of idiots. If you are boring, you are inevitably still an idiot regardless if you watch your Southparks in English or Cantonese although I must say, the Canto version is pretty- imaginative. Just because one listens to Pharell instead of Jay Chou does not prove jack shit other than the former could be a western-culture-hegemony worshipping whore who had forgotten his roots.

Eric Cartman is Chinese, you stupid motherf*cker. According to MC Yan of the LMF.

English or no English, they are all a fuckin’ stupid and uninteresting lot. Everyone is too protected in our society. I have 23 year old friends in my faculty who would not ride the public bus alone for fear of abduction, rape and all the bad things that bad people do to TWENTY-THREE-YEAR-OLDS whenever they are alone in a bus. Jesus Titty-f*ckin’ Christ and these are the same stupid people who wanna get married and populate our already-sorry ass world with their stupid kids. Thank god Down-syndrome kids are infertile.

Take a little chance, would you all? Just alil. I mean, C’mon. We only live once. Why can’t I go thru one day when I don’t have to figure fun and most-likely-to-be-stupid shit to do to entertain my sanity ‘cos someone’s already doing it for me? Why can’t I go thru one day when someone just walks up to me and ask if I’d be interested in robbing a bank?

Kinda think of it- someone Did ask me that question previously. And he wasn’t under influence. He wasn’t joking either. In all honesty, if I didn’t have to answer to anyone at that particular time i.e. my parents are dead- I would agree to rob a bank. Not for the money, but just for the sake of robbing a bank. No reason. Not that I need the money for a life-saving surgery or I am gonna give my loot to the poor, hell no- the poor’s poor because they are too stupid to work their way out of poverty. We all know that Capitalism is a great incentive-based system. And according to history of everyone, Greed is a perfectly-acceptable incentive. The bottom line is- I would rob a bank just because I wanna. I mean how many of us could live to tell a story that could possibly make The Great Train Robbery look like amateur porno? I know who could- those dudes who got away laughing with that 50million bucks microchip heist. And I am cock-sure their folks are either dead, not talking to them or happily smoking an entire estate plantation of weed in some island off Bahamas.

Tyler Durden could not have said it better. Self improvement is masturbatory. Life has no meaning besides finding a meaning in making a meaning for others. We all live in a vicious cycle in a perpetual pursuit for happiness that either turn us to be really self-serving individuals or the rather morbidly self-centered ones who go around trying to make themselves feel better by justifying that they are not self-centered like the rest of the world, by attaining fulfilment out of making others happy, otherwise- they would not give a damn.

There is no meaning in life. We are all just circumstantial parts that keep a big machine moving; without some of which, the gears would still keep on moving possibly faster than before. So do not even pretend that anyone’s even greater than anyone else.

Since nothing ever matters, why can’t you all just live a’lil?

dan semua menghilang

Emily finally wrote after a hiatus of all communications between us since before last Christmas. There was no apparent reason for us not to talk then, thus there was no need of a communique for us to resume communication as usual. Or so I thought, wrongly.The email came with a large attachment that I could not download, the lyrics to a song that I presumed was the attachment and a short Happy Anniversary note.

Dimanakah cinta sejati
Yang memberi ketenangan hati
Sampai kapan ku harus menanti
Kau pergi dan mungkin takkan kembali

Dan aku menangis, dan aku terluka, Bila…
Dan aku menangis, dan aku terluka , Bila…
Engkau menghilang….

Kau pergi dariku, tinggalkanku
Lewati malam tanpa kasihmu
Ku rangkai kata, ku rangkai nada
Yang kuinginkan hanyalah cinta

Dan semua menghilang…

Semua karena cinta kumenangis
Semua karena cinta kutertawa
Semua karena cinta, Semua karena cinta
Yang kau tinggalkan hanyalah luka

Dan semua menghilang…

It must have taken a great deal of time and effort from an American-Chinese to translate an Indonesian song in a predominantly-white city void of people from that part of the world. Especially when her only Asian friend was a stupid Malaysian who is yours truly. All at a time when I was listening to Eason Chen’s Today, Next Year, thinking of her. It was a sad corny day of un-love to be receiving an email from a lost love, I tell you.

Love is such an overused word. So overused. So under appreciated.

Last week was the first time we met at Central Park, NY almost ten thousand miles away from here, some two years ago. As much as I do not allow myself to be one of those soft sentimental sad sods, I did not make it a point to remember that day but March 14th just came naturally to me. It was vivid in my mind and I could feel every moment of that half day we spent together- the cold Spring air, the wet roads from the melting snow, the eye contact, the fear of first words, the dinner at that Hong Kong restaurant, the akward conversation, the walk home, the Everything that felt like it was today, and the silly me who still hope that the day would not end because I had forgotten to get her number! And that secret burn in my heart, wishing that I had dared a kiss as we stood in face of each other at her doorstep before saying goodbye, and hello to a new chapter of us for the next few months that would linger lost like a ghoul ship that could not find her shores, for two years on.

But that day did end. And I did leave her.

I guess it was only fair that she had to remind me of that day with this song. Was I right, to leave? Back then, choice was not even a luxury. We were mere college kids. Now she’s in Med school and I’ll probably be slaving for a major oil conglomerate of the world in a matter of receiving my graduation scroll.

I have grown older, but none the wiser. But isn’t that the thing about humans? We are always at a constant.

How is it that I find it easy to be in love with three women but virtually impossible to love only One of them? In present, choice is not a luxury that I would afford.

Angie, Emily, Corey. The drama never ends. And the funny thing is that I find it getting ever so easier to just dig a hole, push them all into that hole and cover it with my work. Yet, on the full 3 days when I fell sick from overworking, I just wished that any one of them would be there for me.

My heart is so confused. Yet unavailable. Every emotion seems to dissipate the moment I lay my hands on them. I blame this skewed fear to love on having to be the best-man to my best friend who will marry my ex-girlfriend who dumped me while I was in love with her in the US, before I had the chance to love any one of of them.

Alas, it is always easy to point fingers at other but yourself. Especially the middle one.

The truth is I am just a whiny-ass loveless boy who is stuck in the past, couldn’t care less with the present and too overwhelmed by the future.

strangers in the sky

Life is lived by the moment. You have that one moment in that one place in time to make that one moment different from the rest of your life.I spent that one moment in the Itaewon district of Seoul with that one beautiful stranger, before sunset.

She was the silently complicated, neurotically cheery, lovely Asian version of Celine who made heads turned wherever she went. I was the less charming, more introverted, socially awkward mirror of Jesse, whose trade was not in written words but that of the spoken.

It was a match made less than perfect in heaven but in South Korea, with the sense of invincibility afforded by the wilderness of our youth- we had taken everything in stride.

There was our time spent in between lines at the quaint neighborhood cafe; the Korean subway ride substitute of the boat trawl down La Siene; the long walk around everywhere to nowhere; and the nagging time shortage that reminded us of the urgency of then.

I fell head over heels over a beautiful stranger who found me in Seoul.

Alas, this story was not written by Jesse.

In the end of my story, I was left to forever contemplate what if I had a second chance with she who got away?