Infatuation Breeds Stupidity

I made a stupid decision and it made me declare 2011 the worst year of my life.

It started with a small brush of emotions, and then it grew uncontrollably, spreading like a virus. And before I knew it, I started to suffer. Long nights with nightmares, flashes of uncertainty and making decisions that ultimately destroyed my common sense.

All year long, I limped on, and on, hoping it'd just leave me alone. Nah. Virus was creeping up my skull and wouldn't let go for anything, short of a suicide attempt.

This is where it got stupid, because, you know, infatuation breeds stupidity.

I made a decision to end it all, and I thought it would like, end well, like others have told me.

No. Stupid decision, worst decision of my life. I hate 2011. I hate it so much I just want to delete that entire history period from my memory and be done with it.

2011 is when I lost my best friend. No, she didn't die. Just. Friends... but close friends no more.

All because I was too stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You had an excellent friend there, but nooooooo, had to fall in love with her. Well done, dumbass.

I'll move on. Alone. Wasn't it always like that?

Last post. I don't really care. Ashes to Flames, no more. It's just... ashes. And pieces of a fucked up broken heart. Oh yeah, and bits of brains too.

Are You a Malaysian?

I won't be dissing the government anymore. Nor will I start defending them. No. I've realised something very important amidst all the political chaos and conspiracy outbreaks in the country. The Tourism Minister's alleged mismanaging of certain government funds, the attack of the famous "Anonymous" hacker group on several key websites.

I've encountered a lot of anti-government people these days. Pro-government too. And here we go again, in the epic decision of which I must make; side with the protesters or support the administration.

I've jumped the line a few times. I don't know where my loyalties lie. So many lies, twists and turns here and there! Corruption, greed, hatred and no empathy on both sides at all.

Well fuck that. I'm tired. My dad works for the government. My mom is pro-government. My closest friends consider the government rubbish. My best friend wants to migrate overseas so she can leave this dump.

If you're thinking, "this is a waste of my time, this kid doesn't know anything," well keep reading on, asshole.

Some of the haters are quite dumb. Oh blame the government when the sun is too hot! Now really, that's all our faults. Global warming is a burden of the human race, idiot. Yet in a better light, they make sense. RM1.8 mil on a Facebook page? Really? Block some file-sharing websites, even though Tun Dr. M has clearly stated that the Internet will never be censored back when the MSC was first introduced! What the heck is this?!

Now, now, don't be hating the government. Point out their faults, yes. Poke holes into their "peace" theories, yes. But don't sit on your asses and hope a fucking fairygodmother is gonna pop out and whisk every bad thing away. Once you've pointed out what they've done wrong, how about pointing them in the right direction? Say, instead of using that RM1.8 mil to advertise some bullshit campaign on a social media network, use it to clean up poverty? Hand out some loans to deserving but financially-incapable students? Tell them that. If they don't listen, vote them out on their asses in the next general election.

But noooooooooooo. Instead we decided to fight fire with fire. Instead of doing a petition to ask the higher government to check on the Tourism Minister's personal finance, we create a Facebook page, and indirectly created a breeding ground for government haters. 1Malaysia indeed! Gather more fans for the hate page than the tourism page... and then what? Whoop-de-fucking-doo? We have more fans than you? I feel so fucking stupid for liking that page. What the fuck was I thinking? Why am I saying fuck so many times? Because I'm so fucking angry!

Why? Some of those haters, because they believe the country is on the verge of collapse, they want to flee! Run! Desert the country! You complain that the leaders of our country are so corrupted that they forget about their patriotic duties! What about you? Running away to a country you think is better. I ask you, is that patriotic? Isn't that just fucking hypocritical?

Before you retort, wait! OK, you got the cash to run away and study or start a new life in the UK, or Australia or the States. Well... how about the ones who can't run? The ones who can't afford to go overseas? You'd leave them to rot here in Malaysia when you could have stayed, tried to heal our crumbling administration.

"Meh. If they don't get a PTPTN loan or JPA scholarship, it's not my problem. Every man for himself."

Don't hate if you're just gonna run away in the end. Malaysia is stupid, no doubt. So that just makes our job harder. When the old farts pass on the task is up to us. To heal, to repair, to make the system flourish for the next generation. If not we're gonna end up like the current one, and the future generations are gonna spite us, like we're doing on the old farts.

If you're hating my guts right now, whether you're anti or pro gov, I'm sorry. But you have to hear this. There is too much hate in the air. Too much spite. We're throwing durians at each other instead of trying to patch up old wounds. Empathy breeds kindness.

I am a Malaysian. I am not supporting the government or the anti-government groups. I am justifying our actions. And if that's wrong, maybe we should all run and abandon Malaysia to what it is.

A Letter to the Perfect Guy

Hello, perfect guy. Whoever you are. Where ever you are. I know you go by a lot of names. Mr Right. The One. A bunch of other names which I malas mention. 'Nyways.

I have a friend. A girl, actually. She's sad. She's sad because she's alone. She wants to be loved. So I'm like sending an SOS here.

Get yo ass here, pronto. Sweep my friend off her feet. Dazzle her with your perfect personality. Make her laugh at your clever jokes. Make her smile. Cheer her up when she cries. Listen to her worries. Be patient with her. Love her, like she'll love you.

Because, you know, I'm tired. Not tired of being her friend, no, never, but tired of seeing her sad because of her lonesomeness. Sure, I can make her laugh once in a while, but I want her to be whole. A real smile everyday. Happy because she's loved. When she's happy, I can finally sit down on a sandy beach with a pina colada in my hand, and just wait for that merry jingle of wedding bells that ought to be hers in a few more years.

She gets the man of her dreams, she's happy. You get a smokin' sensitive chick as your special one, you're happy. I see my best friend happy, I'm happy. We're all happy and can pop open a bottle of non-alcoholic wine.

Signed, 

A very concerned friend.

PS: she makes one helluva buttered chicken dish

The Next Phase

It's been a boring four months. Honestly. I've been rotting at home ever since I took my one month vacation break and I thought it was a bad move, despite the massive amounts of free time. Which of course, led to my downfall... and gain of excess weight.

I have been indulging myself in my hobbies. Went to Genting for a photography competition last week. Sent in an essay for thrills. Watched all TV series known to man. Well, almost all. But really, as 11th of May closes in, I'm getting excited.

College!!

I know, it's probably stale among my mates, as they've started four months ago, but it's still exciting to me. I do feel like I'm the last to join the ranks of tertiary education students , though.

Maddie and Hui Jan joined college in January. Tharini too, I think.

So did Edmund and Joshua.
Ishaq started a week ago.

Even Deric moved to USJ from Sitiawan and is starting this Saturday.
Imran is starting his orientation this Sunday. Mirza's going to the same university with him.

I've got a full two weeks or so before I start mine.

I miss the excitement. I miss the atmosphere. I miss the suspense of catching on to assignments. I miss mingling around people my age worried about almost the same thing! It may be very different from high school, but the concept is there. Studying, finishing projects/assignments. It's just the difficulty is tenfold. And you're fucked if you don't finish any. Heh.

I know some people will probably say, "Heh. You're not missing anything. Wait till you enter college.You'll see."

OK. Let me face it then. I'm not being over-confident here. I just want the thrills. And I hate being left out. Really.

Gay? So what?

See, when my mom told me about this, I've been thinking long and hard on how I should view this. The whole idea stemmed from the concept of being too free-minded. Youngsters, given the chance to express themselves, and when they take the road that's not considered "normal" by the masses, an issue arises. In this case.... effeminate boys and their tendencies which led to the opening of this boot camp by the Terengganu education department. Well done, boys.

It's more stupid than when Rebecca Black decided to compose "Friday".

I am Muslim, I cannot stress this enough, and I have been taught, ever since I was a foetus, that going the opposite way in sexual identity is plain, hell-deserving, sin-blasted, wrong. If you're a boy, you are a boy. Enough said.

I can think for myself, however. And I certainly don't agree with the "gay boot camp". You do not throw a feminine boy inside a controlled environment and shove instant manhood down their throats. I have an uncle who lives in Singapore, and he has female tendencies. Yes, he speaks with a homosexual flair, walks like one of Heidi's models and even carries a handbag to work! But you know what? He's married to a hot woman from Johor and he has three kids. How's that for effeminate, eh?

The problem we all have, a natural trait of the human race, is that we like to look at a person crooked when their personality is not deemed normal. Thus the stereotyping, the labeling and god-knows racial issues. We point and point, and whisper behind our hands at other people who seem different.

People who know me might actually scoff at this post right now. I have a tendency to hate gays, yes? I do that for jokes. I respect effeminate boys for who they are and I don't condemn them for what they choose. Yes, I poke fun at them but I have no reason for them to disappear from the face of the earth.

The Terengganu education department made a stupid attempt at trying to tone down the rise of effeminate boys. People should be given reign on what they decide, regardless of race and religion. No one has the right to condemn another just because of the choices they make. Perhaps we have the right to punish small evils in this world, but establishing an odd sexual identity is certainly none of those things. Leave 'em alone.

So, go ahead, the extremist Malays and Muslims who read this post. Condemn me for what I think. Call me a free-thinker. Call me blasphemous. Call me a... non-Muslim?

Funny thing is, Muslims respect other people for who they are. Condemn me, and I promise you, minds that work like yours will throw the human race back into the bloody stone age.

And to the "gay" boys who went to the camp... good for you for making new friends. That plan certainly went well.

Stupid Malays.

An Epic Tragedy

Why the fuck am I feeling so poetic? Oh well!

You know, you know, I remember
once, when I walked down the corridor of my old school
And I saw this chap
He looked at me, and gave a clap,

"HO! Hey," he cried
"wanna hear a story?"

A bloke who favoured skipping class
I didn't pass

"So, there might be people listening, or might read this, because I wrote it down,

and you wanna know what I call it?"

"What, dude?" I inquired

"The Epic Tragedy!
See?"

"So there was a boy.

A young, scruffy-looking ruffian

came to a new place

So strange, so alien to him
so what did he do?

He rebelled against the new environment
He became mean
He became rude
He joined the nasty riders of envy
He was the enemy of many

The ruffian felt good
at first
Power and fear, they were his allies
But then, when break of the year came,
he was alone
in his own world

no friends

but his own power and fear

and that loneliness brought him the first tear

of shame

and regret

When dawn of the new year came,
he was quiet

subdued

and his evil compatriots left him

"he's probably dead, dude,"

said they amongst themselves

but like every book, every Hollywood movie, every piece of literature,

someone came to alight him of his plight

a girl

in such a beautiful light

the ruffian thought she was an angel

and an angel I'm led to believe she was

a beauty that no mortal can pass
without inhaling sharply
a heart that glowed like the lava
in the forsaken volcanoes in the LOTR series

she mended his broken head

treated his guilty soul

and gave him a reason to live

the life which was so young!

the angel-we-all-thought-she-was-but-really-was-exaggerated-for-the-sake-of-the-story,

while she healed her companion

she didn't know
he fell for her

as hard as ridiculous this story is,

that's how hard he fell

but of course, fate was funny, in a funny sort of funny way,
as fate liked to make puppets dangle on her fingers from their strings

so like a terrible contestant in Britain's Got Talent,

he danced and danced around the angel-he-thought-she-was,

unaware that fate was making a joke about him

"So there was this one ruffian..."

I'm sorry, man, one of the reasons

this story is called the Epic Tragedy

is because it is a tragedy!

can't you see?
He, yes, he!

He finds out that she doesn't return his feelings

in a cold, hard truth sort of way
like when Luke Skywalker found out Darth Vader was his father
(NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO)"

"But but but, you crazy bastard," I protested
"why is it epic? It's like any other love story I've heard.
Epic, my foot."

"It is epic, my chubby class-skipper,"

he almost jumped, crying
"because the ruffian did not run and cower

when the truth was laid in front of him

The pretty lil tenshi (angel in Japanese) revered love

and set forward to find her own

without knowledge of the ruffian's affections

But the ruffian did not stop her, like a jealous zealot would

no, you fatty, you know what the ruffian did?"

"WHAT?!" I shouted. "Summoned Aslan? Found the seventh Hocrux? Destroyed the Vulgari?
What, man, WHAT?!"

"He became her sword.
He took his own heart, knowing it would be of no use,

fashioned a sword

and defended her from evils and danger.

In memory, he was the ruffian

whose evil drowned with him

and was healed by the kind Angelo (Italian for angel)

But in heart.

He was her sword.

Thus, O cholestrol-covered buddy,

the tale

of such

an Epic Tragedy."

"Oh." I looked at the fellow.
Then I grabbed his arm.
"An epic tragedy that may be... but a far more miserable tragedy it may be

if you don't see a doctor."

"OH SCREW YOU, FATTY."

 

I was feeling whimsical. Do not judge me. Is there a hidden story there? I don't know. This isn't Inception. Dreams within dreams. Or maybe it is. Are you SURE you're not dreaming now? HORRRRR--

Water and Blood

Sigh. So much fear. So much pain. So much suffering. 

It's water and blood, folks.

Water and blood.

I know this girl...

I know this girl.

She's a pleasant person, really.

Nice to talk to.

Someone you could throw a couple of dirty jokes around without being scrutinized at.

A wonderful person.

But underneath that smile she shows to everyone everyday... there's a lonely heart.

One that cries almost every day.

One that beats to the steady rhythm of sorrow every day.

A heart that bleeds out toxic pain.

But still. 

She tries hard. 

Kick her down, and she'll stand right back up.

She'll kick you back. In the balls, if she's in a funky mood.

She'll always have a smile, not that psychotic smile, but the "fuck it, I'm still breathing" kind of smile.

Yeah, she breaks down a couple of times. 

Shed some tears for someone who's kinda oblivious. 

But she'll get back up.

And when she does, she's stronger than ever.

Don't tempt her into her "I'm gonna get you sucka" mode.

She'll beat your breakfast, lunch and dinner right out of you.

But still the toxic pain.

The longing, the wishful thinking.

Oh, who am I to say.

I know this girl.

Kinda lucky for me.

My only regret is that I couldn't help her ease her pain.

It's a tremendously powerful, spiky, black, twisting sort of pain.

One that might take years to disappear.

Screw you, non-believers, she's gonna pull through.

She might have lost all hope.

But I haven't.

Not in her, no.

With the way she's handling that bitch-beast of a pain...

I'm proud of you, miss.

Keep going.

Is it too late for a Happy Valentines?

I forgot about Valentines actually. Then somebody reminded me of it... in a very cruel way. But I'm all OK about it now, and I dedicate this video to everyone out there. Happy Valentines Day! Sorry it took quite a while...

Hungry for the lyrics? I was.

I don't wanna go back home
I don't wanna kiss goodnight
Let us paralyse this moment until it dies
 To the end of the earth
Under the valley of the stars
There's a car crashing deep inside my heart

Take a ride through the avenues
Across the great divide
There's a siren screaming "I'm alive,'' it cries
 
Red alert is the color
Of your paper valentines
Intertwined on this moment passing by
 
Take a ride through the avenues
Across the great divide
There's a siren screaming "I'm alive," it cries


Red alert is the color
of your paper valentines
Intertwined on this moment
passing by

Oh, come away with me tonight
with cigarettes and valentines

Cigarettes and Valentines!

So, come away with me tonight
with cigarettes and valentines

Oh, come away with me tonight
with cigarettes and valentines

Cigarettes and Valentines!

Justin Bieber Must Die

I'm just joking about the title.

I was never a fan of Justin Bieber. I just didn't think of him much. There is a joke on Facebook where first-time listeners of JB will think, ''Wow, that girl has a nice voice''. That actually happened to me. No kidding. Even my mom went, ''Who's this girl?'' when she first heard his mega-hit, ''Baby''.

''He's a boy? I think you're wrong la...''

No, really, Mom. It's a he.
 

I didn't think much about it as I resumed my life. Yes, I heard the occasional ''oh my god, he's so dreamy!'', ''his voice is so cuuuuute!'', ''I LOVE him!'' and so on... And then I discovered the haters. A very impressive haters database, JB has. His music video, "Baby" which was declared the most watched video in Youtube history (400 million views) had the unbalanced numbers of loving fans and sarcastic trashers (500 k likes, 900 k dislikes). And since most of my friends didn't like JB either (even the girls, astonishingly) I went along and started trashing the ''teen hearthrob'' as well.

'Justin Bieber's a BOY?'

JB: You sparkle. You sure you're a vampire, not a fairy?
Edward: You sound girly. You sure you're a guy?

'Shame on those people who posted RIP Justin Bieber on FB. It's not nice to bring up people's hopes that way...'

Yes, yes, I followed the trend of hating JB since it was the majority of the masses. In some small way, I didn't like him too. The way he swishes his hair, says pitifully that he just got lucky with his fame, and the oh-so-agonising repeats of his song, 'Baby, baby, oooo like baby, baby--' 

Then when I looked at the situation, a question hit me; ''Why do I hate Justin Bieber?" 

Which in turn revealed itself in a bigger spotlight. ''Why do people hate Justin Bieber?'' 

So since I had nothing better to do, I scourged the net for information. Fans, critics, haters and the in-betweens, the closet fans and so much. Of course, the answers I found were a bit one-sided, one way or the other. Here's an example of a comment from a, I think the term is, ''Belieber'';

OMG I love JB so much! He sings like an angel <3 <3 <3 I love you Justin! Please keep singing and don't worry about the haters, you still have us to always always always love you!!! <3 <3 Justin!!!!! xoxoxox FUCK YOU haters you're just jealous because he's famous and he is NOT GAY!

That's probably along the lines of one of these hardcore fans. Take a look at a bona fide hater's comment. Taken from the official FB page of The Justin Bieber Haters;

Justin Bieber Haters; gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay gay

Well, it might not seem much, but one word says it all. 

The Beliebers believe in Justin Bieber as a messiah in the teen world. Some sort of messiah, if I say so myself. Someone so young, so pure, singing about his heart's woes about some chick who's playing hard to get (Baby) and the pain of trying to be there for someone you love (You Smile, I Smile) or loving someone to the point where you tell them non-stop 'I love you' (One Time, ironically). That, with his hair-swish action, melts the hearts of a thousand lonely girls out there every day. Edward Cullen has some competition. 

The haters play a darker role in JB's fame, criticising his voice, his looks. Some say this is jealousy of his obviously inflated popularity. Well, at 15 and you have a Ferrari and chicks after your heels and you need a bodyguard? Against girls? That's something to envy about. The smaller, more sensible role of haters is to show the world how fake JB is. A comment I found on Yahoo! Answers cleared some of my confusion;

It's not him as a person, but he is the culmination of how far mass media has fallen and people are getting sick of it. His music is not good. At all. People only think he's good because the people around them say that he's good. And those people only say that he's good because they think the people around them like him. In other words, Justin Beiber is a bad trend. A fad. People should not be getting famous and making tons of money by being a fad. Pretty soon, Beiber will be completely forgotten. Hopefully, the record companies won't find another Beiber to take his place.

Now, this fellow's comment is actually very logical and I very much agree with it. Maybe it's the word of mouth and looks that made JB popular as a god as he is now, but it's always better to tone down your craziness over a 16-year-old pre-pubescent singer. Try listening to other music too. *cough*GREEN DAY*cough*

And the haters! Hating someone just because they made (f*cking shit-loads of) money is not right. Making fun of JB is alright, gives everyone a few laughs, but hating him with the sheer power of burning hell? Just because he's famous? Because he's rich? Because of the screaming chicks at his concert? That's called jealousy and hatred, two common sins.

Maybe he is defacing music, ruining the very image of it, and getting money out of it. But in my opinion, JB will not last. Yes, years from now, his songs will still be on the air, but that rock star fame won't be with him anymore. Just another passing shooting star. But I guess I won't hate Justin Bieber anymore. Nor will I like him. I'll just be indifferent. Being in between two factions is very awesome. Thanks for visiting!

Psychometrics: Attachment, Caring and Intimacy

Okay. I've been talking nonsense for the past few months. I never really chose on a topic to blog about. Time to get back on track. Time to show my followers down there, right hand-side panel there, why they followed my blog.

Because I talked interesting crap.

But before that, allow me to express my insanity over what's to come in the next two weeks or so.

...

HOLY SHIT SPM RESULTS ARE GOING TO COME OUT SOON, I AM SOOOOO SCREWED, I DIDN'T CARE THEN, BUT CRAP, I CARE ABOUT IT NOW, IT'S LIKE DOOMSDAY AFTER BREAKFAST AND WHY THE HECK IS EVERYONE AT THE OFFICE MAKING A FUSS OUT OF IT, I'M THE ONE WHO'S GONNA PICK UP THE RESULTS, MY As ARE SOOOOOOO GONE--

...

Okay. That felt much better. *Phew*

Now, now. What do we have for today?

Right. Psychometrics; and its role in attachment, caring and intimacy.

Okay, okay. To put in a simpler way... I'm talking about love.

*audience goes ''awwwwwww crap'' *

Aw, don't worry. I'll make it less tormenting as we go along. I know you're interested. So, go on.

Now, I've explained about love before. I think it was from this lil post right here. Here's a more definite take on this world-class celebrated emotion.

Taken from everybody's favourite website, Wikipedia--

Love is a universal concept related to affinity, with different interpretations depending on the point of view taken (personal, philosophic, artistic, religious, scientific). In the Western World, love is considered an emotion of strong affection and personal attachment.^[1] In philosophical context, love is a virtue representing all of human kindness, compassion, and affection. In some religious contexts, love is not just a virtue, but the basis for all being, as in the Christian phrase, “God is love” or Agape in the Canonical gospels.^[2] Love may also be described as actions towards others (or oneself) based on compassion.^[3] Or as actions towards others based on affection.^[4]

So basically, love is something of a language. Some would say language of the heart. I'd partially agree on that, because love is something that can be felt by one or more hearts.

But love is also something of an emotional pain-- the raw want of to love, and to be loved in return.
Especially if two hearts feel the same, the pain would be more constant. You know someone out there has the same feelings for you, but you also know environmental (or in most cases, social) causes that love to be difficult to be achieved.

You get stories spun out of this relative fact, and there's Romeo and Juliet as proof.

However, the pain is more evident if only one heart feels the emotion while receiving nothing in return. The basis for it is still the pain of want, but coupled up (no pun intended there) with the pain of rejection... we have what the world calls heartbreaks.

Of course, the masses would agree with me when I say that the pain of heartbreaks is worst than the pain of wanting love. There's also some individuals who'd like to take their heartbreaks to the maximum, say the tragedy of Alviss Kong.

No disrespect to the late Mr. Kong, but suicide was never really the answer. Yes, he was rejected by a girl who he had claimed to be in love with, but in the end, after releasing himself from emotional pain with physical pain (which evidently lead to his death) he had not only hurt (killed, actually) himself, but his family, friends, and the girl whom he harbored a crush on.

Imagine how the girl is coping with the guilt now. Survivor's guilt, dear readers.

It has been proven many times that when someone loses faith in love, he loses faith in everything. His job, his dreams and even religion. Very, very dangerous outcome, this is. One has to be optimistic no matter how grim things are.

Never lose hope. Yes, that's what I say to everyone. It's hard, I know. I've lost hope so many times, I always felt hypocritical when I say this to someone else. But I try. And I'd like it if everyone else did. So much to do in this life!

Back to the matter at hand, love grows at a steady rate, especially if the situation -- as people say -- clicks. Based on psychometrics, there are three levels of growth: attachment, where someone latches a piece of their feelings for another on a sub-conscious level. Caring, when the person's feelings are stimulated with emotions such as worrying or concern for another and finally intimacy; where that person feels a unique bond with another, and it's not individual, but shared by both, supported by the first two levels of growth.

Most of you will probably wonder why I'm just typing these facts out. But facts block the truth of one's heart, no? No one ever liked facts. Facts just provide the shadow of an inanimate object, to make it more believable in the real world, disregarding if people like it or not.

This includes love.

I'm saying love is a wonderful thing. Pure, ever-existing, and always the positive light in our dark universe. It can't be contaminated like power or wealth. It's a driving force in life, and pushes us to do things we normally hesitate to do. Achieving a dream, success in life... and finding someone to love.

But you can drown in it. Too much of a good thing, you see. People get beaten down by love everyday. Hearts get broken, tears are shed. It's not only romantic love, but family love as well. Impersonal love, where one loses aim in everything.

I know. I've heard. I've seen. I'm touched by their stories, and I feel for them. It hurts me as well, and I can do nothing but to console them. But I know they'll keep on going, with love as a driving force, to hope.

Hope for the best.

In reality, love kinda sucks. But people still go after it.

I wonder why.

You Seeing Double?

Ain't that just cool? And AWESOME?
High -LEGENDARY- Five!
Get it?

Hee hee.

Devil May Cry... and I won't blame him

This is the old Dante. (from Devil May Cry 4)

This...

... emo-gothic, stoned punk...

...is the new, younger Dante.
(from DmC Devil May Cry)

What the heck are you doing, Capcom? Giving one of your most prized possessions into the hands of a noob video-game developer like Ninja Theory? You were better off developing your own games!

And... Dante? His silver hair. Silver hair!!! That was iconic. And now... this??? And smoking??!

I'll cut the game some slack for now. It is an origin story, and it'll probably shed more light on the bad-ass hero's history in the Devil May Cry series.

I hope DmC won't let me and the other fans down.
The trailer was... meh.

It was cool, actually, if you set aside the ''ruining-the-iconic-look'' concept.

Meh.

DmC Devil May Cry Debut Trailer

The Legendary Photographer

Yes, I am a photographer for The Malay Mail.
In fact, I'm a journalist too.
I'm a photo-journalist.
Two things strung into one, and they say it's rare.
There's a staff photojournalist there too, but she's a hag, if I do say so myself.

One day, during an assignment, I got chased away. By a pack of angry bus operators.
Now people, I'm trying to help you out.
I'm not from Harian Metro trying to dig out some dirt on you.
I'm from The Malay Mail, trying to find the cause of why you guys got stranded without a proper terminal.
But one middle-aged lady scornfully came up to me and said with utmost evil, ''Kid, scram, we don't need nosy photographers like you from Harian Metro to make us look bad; we're already in a bad spot here,''

Indignantly, I tried to protest, ''I'm not--''

With a growl, the ugly lioness menacingly said, ''Scram or we'll beat you up,'' she signaled other ugly lions and panthers (boars too, I think) and what was I suppose to do?

Yes, I ran. I caught up with my partner reporter and said, ''DUDE, we need to get out of here--''

''What? I've had a nice interview with these stall traders here--''

''The bus operator demons are after my BLOOD!''

He nodded wisely, pulled out the keys to his Kancil, and said, ''Understood. Let's roll,''

Back in the sanctuary of The Malay Mail's HQ, we told our tale to our Editor. When the scene of the attacking bus operators was mentioned, the Editor laughed.

I was wide-eyed. Dude, if I stayed longer, the operators would've run me down with their mammoth-buses.

And he spun his own tale, of a former photographer -- a girl -- fresh from UiTM, who defied the laws and took some illegal pictures, got caught, but with some magic and charm, got away, clean. Front page material, baby.

''Now her name was Hani -- no, not the Hani you know now, another Hani (there was another photographer Hani) -- yes, she was aggressive, vivacious and seductive when she needed to be. I remembered her as so. Very small, petite, one might say, and she could crawl through the smallest spaces in which big-sized people'' -- he looked at me, but then tactfully looked away in a flash -- ''couldn't fit through. Any photography assignment which required stealth... dear Hani was the one for it!

''A few years ago, KTM (Keretapi Tanah Melayu) bought these new train engines, claimed to be used for the public. They were bought, but never used due to some undisclosed reasons. They were kept in storage, but KTM denied so and so. Millions of RM spent on these train engines, but was never seen or heard of.

''So The Malay Mail got itchy. We wanted pictures... but of course, we couldn't get them legally. So then we got a tip off about the engines' location. We couldn't get in-- so we sent Hani.

''Hani, bless her, she crawled under the rusty gates and climbed through a hole in one of the warehouses. And snap-snap-snap she went when she found the missing engines. But alas, it didn't go well for her. She was caught by the guards while she was trying to leave!''

My partner and I gasped. For dramatic effect, of course.

''With her cute over-sized eyes and quivering lips, she said, and she really did say this, ''Please, sir, I'm a UiTM student, I didn't know this area was off-limits, if I knew, I wouldn't have taken pictures of it for my final semester project! Please sir, I'm so, so, so very sorry!''

''And would you know it, the guards let her go. Melted their hearts, she did. She came back to the office, joyous with her victory and submitted the photos. Next day was a field day for us. How did The Malay Mail get those photos? Well, as we told our competitors, it was a trade secret; our legendary photographer, Hani.''

The Editor finished his tale with a smile. ''Now, Amirul, I expect you to show the same commitment as Hani did. Though I suggest you don't pull the Puss'n'boots mushy stare move like Hani did. You'll get an angry mob if you do that. When worse comes to worst-- run.

''Other than that, good job, both of you. Nice photos.''

Legendary photographer.
What a thrill!
If only I could meet her!
The courage!
The deception!
And she's cute!
I'll live up to your standards. Or maybe be better than you!

We'll see.

A Change of Pace

I've said it before. But you readers know me. I always like to repeat myself.

It's a change. A massive change in not just my life, but everyone else. Everyone of the same age, I mean.

It's normal, I guess. An average Form 5 student graduates from school after completing his SPM examinations, and enters the world of pre-adulthood. Still immature, uneven on the edges, but very, very close to being a full-fledged adult.

That, folks, is where the change happens. And I must tell you, it is quite a big change. I applaud to some, who managed to just go through the transition with ease. And I am sympathetic with those who have a hard time growing used to that change.

Because, obviously, I'm one of those people. Poor, poor souls who miss the old life in school uniforms, the rag-tag freedom of feeling unoccupied with nothing but schoolwork, and that nagging, somehow ironic thought of ''can't wait when I'm done with school--''

But now, thinking about it again, I'll have to call myself a hypocrite.

Exactly one year ago, I saw that ''change'' in one of my school's former Head Prefects; Yie Hahn. Always suited up, always ready, always alert in his school days. Then, after leaving school and returning for a short visit, I saw a remarkable change in his exterior: unshaven face, baggy eyes, normal attire for an office worker and maybe the sluggish body movement of a drunkard. I'm not saying he ended up bad; no, but it seemed that the change hit him quite hard.

I scoffed at the thought. That would never happen to me, I thought. And of course I was wrong.

I went to my old school the other day. I had no beard, not even a shadow of it. But with my work shirt, a bagpack with my camera gear inside and that irritating green pass ''Pas Pelawat'' pinned on my breast pocket-- I saw the younger 'uns looked at me as I have looked upon Yie Hahn one year ago.

The change had hit me.

You get older, you get wiser. New friends gained, old friends drift away. New paths which you have to clear for yourself and ultimately, the choice of doing what is wrong and what is right in the world.

I can't bloody change even if I'm in the ''change'' phase. A change of pace, folks. It's a change of pace.

What Up, 4 in the Morning

You may ask.

What the hell am I doing up at four in the morning?

I mean, morning prayers are at 5.30-ish... and you're up at 4AM?

Well, folks. To be honest. I'm in love.

Something wonderful, terribly wonderful at the bottom of my heart, right now, but I'm sure, like a suffering drunkard, I'll wake up with a headache in the morning. Or rather, heartache. Whichever you prefer, really.

The joy and beauty of something in a dream! I'm looking forward to that right now. My room's in a mess, I'm supposed to wake up early for a Law-studies talk tomorrow (or rather, today) at Taylor's, and yet, I'm unfaltering from typing this somehow bimbotic post. *winks, Jacie*

Well then. Off to bed. Cheers! And good morning!

Another Year... Hi, 2011

Sorry I didn't post one up for the new year, I was feeling lazy, and opted for the clouds post since it was so... peaceful. Well, peace is almost over now, into the hustle and bustle of the fresh start of another year on planet Earth. College, work... and so much more.

Half my friends are off to college, Hui Jan, Maddie, Joshua, Ganesh... so rajin, these January-intake goers. The other half (which I am quite proud to be amongst) have gone on the road of job-hunting. One can be quite cerewet with the requirements that come with the job. ''What are the working hours?'' ''How many off-days I get in a week?'' ''How's the pay?'' and the most popular one, ''Do I have to wear a uniform?''

Yes, yes, a lot of moans here and there, but I got a job as a waiter at Sri Melaka restaurant in One Utama. The first two days were tiring but I gained a few things which I'm sure would be useful somewhere, sometime in the future. I planned to work for three months, then out of the blue--

My rejected internship application at the Star, was accepted by another newspaper company, the Malay Mail.

Not a newspaper giant like the Star or NST, but adequate for someone like me. I've just worked on my resume and sent it to the Editor-in-Chief last night via email. I received a call this morning from a Mr. Jonathan Chong who told me to report to Malay Mail's office at 9 o'clock in the morning on Monday.

My dad said my resume was quite good, and I did it without remembering all the details given by this lecturer lady who came to school to give Form 5s speeches on how to prepare resumes. *beams*

Nervous? Perhaps I'm on the same track with newbie college students.

A lot of things have been going on, as the old year breaks into the new, as it is inside my head. People around me are changing, as they move up and further, through a thin veil which separates immaturity and adulthood. Some may stay just at the border to retain that sense of foolish youth, but I see mostly jump through, happy to leave the child-like feeling behind and embrace what they think is freedom.

Don't get me wrong. Everyone wants to grow up! Everyone has that right! And if that's what you want, go ahead. We all deserve a piece of it. But I just like it here, on the other side of the veil very much. Sooner or later, yes, I know, I'll have to move and step over. But for now... I'll just wave from the other side.

Maybe this internship and soon, college, will help me cross over. Or I might just stay on that borderline between foolish youth and wise adulthood.

Look at me rant. It's been a while. Feels good. Good luck, to all college-goers, part-timers, and so on. Happy new year, and I hope the best comes out of 2011 for all of us. I don't know if it's dark days or sunshine ahead of us in the future, but everyone needs a lil cheer. Cheers then! Thanks for reading!

My head in the clouds...

Hi, folks! I've just came back from Singapore a few hours via plane. Singapore's been fun, my family and I visited Universal Studios. Photos are here. A good and long six days, five nights there, and though going to Singapore for the second time gave experience, I'm happy to be back in Malaysia.

One thing I like about flights. As you look out through the plane windows, through that reinforced glass, you could get an up and close view of the clouds. Yes, simple as they may seem, but the view, if looked upon closely... you can see the wonders of it.

See how the blades turn, against a background of clouds.

The opening in the centre of looks like an opening of the sea along the lines of a sandy beach.

The sun shines radiantly, and the clouds' curves capture the light, shadowed upon the stratosphere.

These clouds may look like a puffy white cotton ball, but they potray the serenity and peace of mind, when someone is really high, up in the sky. Thus, the saying, ''head in the clouds.'' See ya, folks! Thanks for reading.