Within the Mirror.

Red Alert: Liverpool Thoughts

2005-11-22T05:33:00.000-08:00

In case you didn't know, I'm a huge Liverpool fan. Die-hard stuff. I was there a full ninety minutes during this years UEFA Champions League Final in which the most amazing comeback victory ever executed was done, and I was there when Liverpool stooped to it's low points around the last Houllier season. I have seen most of the Liverpool archived matches, became awestrucked at Bruce Grobelaar's blunders and brilliant saves, stared at Ian Rush's most exquisite strikes.

I'm a Reds fan.

So I feel it only right that I make a few comments concerning the Premier League team I so dearly love, as aside to finding something to do with my time.

I need to remind you however, these are purely my opinions, and since they are not even the slightest bit professional, they shouldnt be considered too seriously.

But they still should be considered, nonetheless.

Now. Concerning the team today.

If you do follow the chronicles of today's Liverpool team, you would notice a sharp injection of Spanish flavour into the composite football style of the team. Spanish style per se, not being that of the Primera Liga, but more of the pass-orientated and polite-style of football.

I say polite in stark contrast of more physical teams, such as Blackburn Rovers (who are VERY VERY rough), Fulham and even Manchester United.

Very rarely you will witness a full red shirt going in for a rough slide tackle, and an obscene hand gouge to the eye, or anything like that. But then again, it's not hard for them to adopt it during Rafael Benitez's tenure, seeing as how they natually progressed from French style football under Gerard Houllier.

This Spanish infusion is a direct effect of Rafa Benitez's origin from the nation, which is a normal thing to happen. Houllier signed on the likes of Bruno Cheyrou, Le Tallec and attempted for Cisse in his time, so yea, there you can definitely see a bias towards country.

But I'm quite pleased to see that Benitez has begun to expand his horizons. Look at Mohammad Sissoko, a Mali player. Quality stuff, Sissoko. But unfortunately, he neither has seen much of the ball, much of the pitch even, to do anything of significance. Hopefully, in due time, he will become sensational.

But I'm not saying either that the Spanish players brought in are bad, far from it. In fact, most of them are truly very very good. Playmaker Xabi Alonso and (in contrast to popular opinion) poacher Luis Garcia, for example. Alonso is responsibly for some pretty precise intensive plays and Luis Garcia.....well, we all remember the Chelsea semi-final of the Champion League at Anfield. Of course, with hits, there are misses. Like Josemi and Nunez, but come on, let's be realistic, Benitez takes gambles.

Let us examine the on-pitch team.

Jose Reina, between posts, is admittedly solid. To an unfathomable reason, alot of fellow Reds fans I know do not seem to favour Pepe, opting for the hero-villain Jerzy Dudek that has served the Reds for several seasons beforehand after David James. But regardless, the past 7 matches have been left without a goal conceded, which is something not many goalkeepers can manage.

The back four, consisting of defensive rocks Jamie Carragher (my hero!) and Sami Hyppia, along with a rotating left and right backs, have always been a Liverpool asset. For the past several seasons, Liverpool's back four has been a thing of wonder, of excellence, of permanence. However, it comes to mind that ex-captain Sami Hyppia is getting old, and will soon retire, and his protege and lookalike Zak Whitbread still has volumes to learn, and it was due to his inability to plug the holes that contributed to the recent League Cup defeat by Crystal Palace.

Finding replacements for Hyppia and for the sake of foresight for Carragher is immensely difficult, and proves to be a brewing crisis for Anfield.

Finding a left and right back however, is not a crisis. Strength comes with Riise, technique comes from Finnan, heart comes from Stephen Warnock (a young hero, he), and...uhm....blunders, come from Djimi Traore.

Let's not forget Josemi, who hopefully will only be used as a reserve. Hmm.

Concerning the midfield, which is arguably one of the most diverse midfield personalities in the league, there is much concern to be had. Concern not in terms of quality, in which is present in abundance, but in terms of the functionality of all these talents.

In the midfield, we of course have talismanic captain and ego reactor Steven Gerrard, arguably one of Liverpool's greatest legends, alongside the genius Xabi Alonso, the aforemention poacher supreme Luis Garcia, defensive strongback Didi Hamann, the most unluckiest star player alive Harry Kewell, the aforementioned Sissoko, and the dazzling Zenden (amazing!).

Now. We know all about team chemistry, and we know how some players work with only certain players. Take into consideration, of course, that Steven Gerrard stays full on, as he is the captain. Now, think about it.

Sissoko, being lightfooted and quick as lightning, will only be redundant if he was paired with.....let's say.....Zenden. And we can't possibly expect results if we chuck both Hamann and Alonso on the field, for that would mean a purely technical game.

So that's the thing, Benitez adopts a method of rotation. Some games he uses certain players based on the opponents, some games he uses mainstay positive personalities. This is good, of course.

But this is bad for the player, and for younger players, it will fail to cultivate a sort of consistent mainstay attitudes. Being rotated isn't good for a personality that is willing to give more, that is willing to produce a better performance. Thus, the search for a good, consistent and skilful midfield is a big problem. On one hand, Benitez could opt to find mainstays that guarantees games but neglects subs, but on the other, he could rotate as he is now, and neglects full on mainstays that can become legends.

Oh the pain.

Now, let us look at Liverpool's recent problem: Good strikers.

We have, as of now, Djibril Cisse (highest scorer!), Fernando Morientes, the amiable Peter Crouch, Sinama Ponggole and the one-shot hero Neil Mellor.

Cisse has been looking good lately, so i won't press much on him. His cocky attitude adds a new dimension of personality to the overall hearty Liverpool team, but sometimes....enough is enough.

Morientes is a good player, hands down. It's just...his form has yet to be found. He's good in the air, he's strong in his shots, he plays the ball...why can't he score a lot more? I believe it is his service work, his anticipation play is abit slim.

Ahh....Peter Crouch. I'm gonna bum out here, I like Crouch. He's very good with control, he's....REALLY tall, making him automatically good in the air (but not in accuracy of headers), he's got heart, he's a good passer, he's a team player...it's just that he can't score. Yes, he's a good player, a very good one. But he's not a good striker, at least not yet. Like Ian Rush mentioned in the newspapers this morning, he needs to be far more selfish to become a good scorer. Lord with him.

Pongolle and Mellor....well, what can i say. They're young, fresh legs, Pongolle with his raging temper and funky hair and Mellor with...that cracker against Arsenal. But they have soo much potential...just little play time.

Well, thats it for now, i've got things to do :P. So uh, til next time!

(Listening to :- Depapepe -SUMMER PARADE)

Raaaaasskk...!

2005-11-03T08:18:00.000-08:00

I'm playing chess with myself.

One step, a lone white pawn moves forward. A second in fame it spends.

A black knight, it's armor shining in the pale moonlight, leaps ahead of the assailing dark meat puppets, blocking the white pawn's way.

It weeps.

Fourteen moves later.

Blood (imaginary, yes) has been shed on the marbled black and white tiles of the grounds.

The white queen stands next to the dark King, who bides his time.

But before she could run her knife from the dark King's ear to ear, a pawn claims her.

She is no more.

Another seven moves later.

The grounds is empty, save two knights, three pawns, the Kings, and a Bishop.

The pawns congregate at the side, while the Dark Knight confronts the white King, who stands by his Holyman.

Three moves later.

The Dark King is isolated. The White Bishop holds his staff high, while the White Knight stands firm.

Check mate.

I'm.

So.

Friggin.

Bored.

I'm not even writing cohesively.

Burn meeeee!

(Listening to : - Something is Calling You - Norah Jones)

Tagged. Get it off me.

2005-10-19T08:09:00.000-07:00

Wooo!

Darkness new album!

Woo!
Seladang second place in debate! (Not so woo)

Woo!
Goal coming out tomoro!

Woo!
Talentime coming!

Woo!
Cat invading my house! (Woo?)

Woo!
Franz Ferdinand new album in bag!

Woo woo!
Access to ps2!

Wooooooooo!
....uh.

Well, that summarized it.
ON WITH THE TAG!

Ahem.
Seven things you plan to do before you die
1. Hmm. Toughie. Find love. Have sex. Get married. Have kids. Definitely. Create another me. A better me. Hmmm...
2. Become an established person in the world of art and/or writing and/or film and/or music.
3. Travel the world as a rockstar.
4. Go backpacking in a wide open country.
5. Walk the world as a person who lives in his own fantasy, talking mumbo jumbo for a few days.
6. Understand the meaning of life and death, and everything else with it.
7. Encounter a life changing experience.

Seven things you can do
1. Talk alot of crap, and sound good doing it.
2. Squeeze through the tightest of precipices.
3. Quote to you lines from various low-profile movies.
4. Write passages that makes sense only to myself, and the little boy beside me.
5. Think through things only to make myself more confused.
6. Want something badly, and do absolutely nothing about it.
7. Talk to myself.

Seven celebrity crushes
I'm picky. Thus, I am unable to touch seven.
1. Rachel Weisz (*swwooooon*)
2. Norah Jones (*SWOOOOOOOON*)
3. Sandra Bullock (old? heh)
4. Kiera Knightley

Gah, good lord. I can't think of any right now. I'll pop in more as I can remember.

Seven most repeated words
1. What the hell?
2. I guess.
3. Shit.
4. Aiyaa.
5. Oh my gaaawd...
6. (New one) Bangkai.
7. Sot ledi.

Seven physical traits you look for in the opposite sex
1. Hmm. I know it's hypocritical: Posture.
2. I really like long, black hair, but I'm not fussy.
3. Ability to produce good coherent sentences. (it's physical)
4. Short-er than me? :P
5. Smile, definitely.
6. Bedazzling eyes would be good plus.
7. Hm. The presence of teeth?

Seven tags to go to
1. Every
2. Damn.
3. Person.
4. That.
5. Really.
6. Read.
7. This.

HAH!

Three names you go by
Other than my real name,
1. Ah Quah.
2. Nickew.
3. Boy.

Three Screen name you've ever had
Quite a long history.
1. Xeifur89 (still use it sometimes)
2. Nny
3. Constantine

Three physical things you like about yourself
1. Height? I think?
2. My fingers? I hope?
3. Uhm. feet.

Three physical things you don't like about yourself
1. My Face (too many things on it to name)
2. My wrists.
3. My waist.

Three parts of my heritage
1. Chinese.
2. Apparently, somewhere in Europe but I can't recall.
3. *shrug*

Three things that scare you
1. Death. To myself and to others around me.
2. The failure of determining a meaning and purpose to my life.
3. Being ultimately alone.

Three drinks (alcoholic or non)
1. Red Wine. (mm!)
2. Shandy. (:P)
3. Coke. (Better foam than pepsi)

Three of your everyday essentials
1. Music.
2. People.
3. Tv.

Three things you're wearing right now
1. Shorts.
2. Uhm.
3. I can tell you what i'm NOT wearing... ^_^.

Three of your favourite movies
1. Hmm. The Village. (I have my reasons)
2. Lost in Translation.
3. Constantine.

There are just too many.

Two truths and a lie
1. I'm afraid of the dark.
2. I once had a dream of intimate properties. In daylight. In public.
3. I haven't driven in my life.

Three physical things about the opposite sex that appeal to you
1. I won't lie. Butts.
2. Hair. Women do have nicer hair.
3. Lips.

Three careers you are considering, or have considered
1. Lawyer.
2. Film Maker.
3. Rock Star.

Three ways that you are stereotypically a guy
1. My room is a mess.
2. I fantasize.
3. I have an ego. A big one.

Three people you would like to see take this quiz now
1. Bill Clinton. Heh.
2. Stephen Hawking.
3. Tung Shen. HAH.

Voila.

(Listening to :- Tears and Rain - James Blunt)

Deadline: 2 days.

2005-10-10T07:31:00.000-07:00

Woo!

Exams.

Are.

Dying.

It's only a matter of time to kill the old geezer.

Ethic of a Rawk Starr.

2005-09-12T07:39:00.000-07:00

Ahh....rock shows. Possibly the closest thing to a visual orgasm.

Not that I know what that is....of course.

*cough*

Anyway, I've always had a dream to lose all dignity and self-consciousness in front of large quantities of people, possibly clad in something ridiculously put together, in the overall effort to crunch out a bloody good rock show.

One thing I've noticed about local outfits and most bands on television these days (not a good source to research on for inspiration, I might add): Everyone wants to do the hip hop thing.

What the hell?

Now, I've nothing against hip hop. I just don't particularly like the idea of wearing outrageously loose clothing, revealing the top part of the pair of designer underwear I'm wearing, putting on da bling bling (whacchamacallit?), crooking my back, and acting cool.

Nor do I particularly enjoy the music itself, which actually is nothing to be had or prominent of, as per se just a compliment to the 'style' it tries to feed the hungry bawling public.

Perhaps I'm being hypocritical; perhaps to one person the style of rock and roll is as disgusting to them as hip hop is appalling to me.

But I don't give a rat's ass about them.

(What, you pissed at me? You. Yeah, you with the funny hair)

Anyway, I'm drifting. Back on the topic: Local rock outfits, or at least the successful ones, possess the habit of dropping into the hip hop style of things. I'm naming no names or pointing no fingers (pop shuvit *cough*), but I find this absolutely unacceptable.

Wanna make music like that? Don't call it rock.

Maybe some of you might think I'm bein' unfair; that maybe I should give some leverage for certain people to test the waters of mixing different genres of music.

Bite me.

What happened to the good ol' rock music? What happened to the Led Zeppelins? Where has the ZZ tops gone? What the hell have you done with Aerosmith? Why didn't God save the Queen from the flow of mainstream music?

Alas. That era is at an end.

What used to stand the mighty gods of rock and roll now looms the three-quarter pants and squeaky, whiny voices of pop-punk rockers.

For shame, for shame.

It may be early, but I do realize Talentime's coming. The last one I'll ever take part in. And with that, I dedicate whatever the hell I'm going to do on that day to the glorious demise of Rock and Roll.

Thank you Elvis, thank you Pink Floyd, thank you Queen, thank you AC/DC, thank you David Bowie.

POwaaa!

(Listening to :- Bareback - The Darkness)

Surveillance :S.

2005-09-04T07:45:00.000-07:00

Kah Ann tagged me for this.

I'm bored. So there.

1. Total Number of Books you own:

Quite a damn lot. Not gonna count.

2. The Last Book you Bought :

Street Boys by.....I forgot. Some Italian-American. Haven't read it yet. Not gonna til i'm free-er.

3. Last book I read:

Completely? Uhm. A furniture catalogue? And mebbe Harry Potter: HBP.

4. Five books that meant alot to me:

Wow. Tough question.

- Neverwhere, by Neil Gaiman:
One of the first full-length book I ever read. The book that started it all for me, actually ^_^. As a direct result, I grew up looking at things in a darker perspective, being fascinated by things of mystism and impossible. Got me hooked on other books too. Oh! And the importance of anonymous characters. Yum yum.

- Hearts In Atlantis, by Stephen King:
Don't know why really. First book ever to make me question my existence, to question the purpose of society, to question the decisions of elder that beforehand I believed to all be planned out and sorted into some 'big plan'. Read it when I was really young, I think when it first came out....or was it the second edition?

- Soul Music, by Terry Prachett:
Of all the Prachett books, I love this one the best. Packed with so many musical reference it'll make a music addict bleed, it also describes one of my most favourite depiction of Death (which conveniently, has a granddaughter), a traditional black hooded skeletal figure which speaks in CAPITAL LETTERS. Booyah!

- The HitchHiker's Guide to the Galaxy, by Douglas Adams:
No brainer. Read it. And you shall know all.

- The Entire Sandman Collection, by Neil Gaiman and an assortment of artists:
A cop out, I know. Suure....you said Book. These are comic BOOKS. Or 'graphic novels', for those of you with problems saying the word comic. The most magnificent pieces of literature ever written in this generation. You cant miss it. Read. Read. READ.

The End.

(Listening to : - Funk Soul Brother - Fatboy Slim)

Golden yellow sunshine.

2005-08-29T05:41:00.000-07:00

This marks my first post in a very, very long time.

Don't really have anything to do right now, so I guess I'll just pose random entries. Again, as with most of my posts, this entry will purely be for my own use and a sort of therapeutic process for me.

A man walks into a bar, and sees a shadow that smiles the years of his youth. He buys a drink and sits on a barstool next to it, and engages himself in a deep yet dreamy conversation with the barkeep, who is oddly concurring every word he says. He pays no attention. Soon he falls asleep, atop his barstool, drink in right hand, drool creeping onto left. The shadow smiles wider.

If, by any chance, when you wake up one day, and begin to question the purpose of your life, is that the moment when your life ceases to be magical? The minute you adorn a cynical thought? The moment you stop believing you are more than just flesh and blood?

A child picks up a pencil. A paper is placed in front of him. He hesitates. He puts the pencil back down. He walks away. Lesser than he had ever knew, he would have been the world's greatest architect, if only he started sketching that very moment.

Is there life outside the walls that confine you?

A balloon travels a good distance across a city. It has seen more things than a normal person would ever see in his or her life.

How do you constitute life? Breath? Heartbeats? Emotions? Death?

A paradox: Something placed on one end of a spectrum can only exist if something exists on the other. Without good, there is no evil. Without light, there is no dark. Without life, there is no death. Without dreams, there is no reality.

What are dreams? Sigmund Freud: Implications of Sex. You: Utter nonsense. A writer: A collection of feelings, emotions, thoughts, premonitions, memories, and hope. A liar lying about his lies: The compilation of the days gone by. A man: The combination of yesterday, today and tomorrow.

Me: All or none of the above.

Smiling = Painful, yet necessary, but not always done by the majority, but optional, like circumcision.

This concludes the end of the post.

(Listening to :- Twentysomething - Jamie Cullum)

Balanced Equations.

2005-08-10T11:10:00.000-07:00

Amazing, no?

Mid Semester Exams are being held. Stress rears its ugly head, albeit a slightly bit impotent this time round; but ugly nonetheless. Haze settles into the atmosphere, thick and grey and congealed and swirly. School remains adamant; a nasty figure in the wake of an amazing one half months.

Four equally horrid beings. Yet they cancel each other out in the turn of this new day.

The Haze has officially grown unbearable. I'm looking at reports which state that Klang Valley has hit 325 points on the danger level.

(Note: Average normal day holds about 10-20 health hazard points, whereas the state of emergency level is 500 points)

The Federal Territory however, holds a meager 295 points. Yet school remains open for Klang Valley, and FT has been forced to call a suspension.

Not that I'm complaining, of course ^_^.

So. Haze cancels out School from the equation.

Due to the cancellation of School, exams are forced to be suspended and postponed. Burden avoided and shifted to a later date. My temple no longer pounds with each heartbeat.

Due to absence of Exams, Stress is eliminated from the equation.

Hence a prefectly balanced equation. A work of art, no?

So. The Haze comes as both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, it weakens respiratory systems, dampens visibility and inhibits proper execution of photosynthesis. In other words, we'll die faster, should the Haze be permanent.

But on one hand we also have lack of Schools, causing family members to huddle up together in what can only be known as "bonding time". It also brings out the sympathetic side of politics: Government issues health warnings (though sublimely), and foreign governments are actually apologizing (for something their people are doing and they cannot control).

One Coin. Two Sides. But then again, there is probability (though very minor) that the Coin falls on it's side, as adequately staged in Shaolin Soccer.

What is the Side?

The fact that the cosmic karmaic energy of the universe is finally coughing up redemption.

It's my Birthday. It's fated. The world seems to be at a state where it resembles the Apocalypse. But yet it is pseudo; we are still alive, and persistent.

I declare this day...... Hazeley Day.

Sweet Dreams.

(Listening to - Daniel Powter - Bad Day)

Currvvyyy

2005-07-10T03:50:00.000-07:00

Right.

Haven't blogged in awhile, mostly because I'm too lazy. (No, I'm not going to pig out and blame it on my schedule.....or should I?) It's about ten minutes before I chow down on my munchies, and the rain just let up. Mmmm....I'm hungry in a wet, steamy environment. Sounds wrong, eh? Booya!

So. What have I been doing the past week? Let's see here...

1. Really busy with Lion King rehearsals (come watch! we have tails! TAILS!)
2. Discovered ants really do have homes; and are not Satan's spawns.
3. Confirmed that One Tree Hill is possibly Bold and the Beautiful for the younger folks.
4. Came to a realization that we'll never win the World Cup.
5. Missing alot of school work; a blessing and a curse.
6. Downloaded a heck of a lot of Jap rock music.
7. Was told that mushrooms are evil, but delicious.
8. Finally conluded that teddy bears don't talk.
9. The band's been doing okay, still nameless.
10.Noticed that bus rides elongate buttocks.

There we go. My life in the past few weeks summed up in a list. Way cool, eh?

On another note, it would seem my obsession with online webcomics have been getting a tad bit out of hand. I've begun to see the lines of my walls are little squiggly pen inkings. Eep.

For your information, I've been a HUGE fan of several webcomics since I was.....what, standard 5? On toppa that, my interest in it has never faded, not even a bit. And it doesn't look like it's going to any time soon.

What's so interesting about these webcomics?

Well, the most common conception of webcomics in the eye of society is that they are in the vein of the daily newspaper funnies; in which they always come up with some funny every single day, with little or no character and story development whatsoever.

While a majority found in cyberspace ARE guilty of such conceptions, leave it to the minority to pull through.

A good bucketful of these webcomics are actually VERY deep; wading through philosophical theories and moulding excellent plotlines together almost effortlessly.

One such webcomic is "Megatokyo.com", a hand-sketched product that I have been following for a little over 5 years now. Following the antics of two game-enthusiasts as they are stranded in Tokyo with no money, it originally started off as a light-hearted romp through funnyland but somehow evolved into an interesting, manga-style storyline complete with unique characters, inter-weaving storylines, and fan homages.

Fred Gallagher, the artist and scriptwriter, started this comic as a joke to pass the time when he wasn't working as an architect.

In the course of 6 years, he has published three compilation volumes of Megatokyo worldwide, established himself in the American ring of comic artists, got himself married, and has brought the story of Megatokyo into such a complicated mess of madness. In a good way, of course.

Isn't that cool? Something that started out soo light-heartedly can reap in such fame and fortune. My goodness.

I wonder if I can strike gold?

Hmmm..... but it doesn't look like my "Bob the Banana" sketches are going to bring me anywhere.

Maybe people don't like talking bananas. Oh well.

Other webcomics that I frequent are:

http://www.reallifecomics.com - "Real Life Comics"
Art by Greg Dean, this series follows the so-called Real Life adventures of Greg Dean and his......compatriots. Expect a lot of random events.

http://www.little-gamers.com - "Little Gamers"
Art by Christian and Madsen, this unique little comic strip features mini/chibi-like characters as they go about their pointless lives. Don't let the cute art-style fool you though, they swear by the bucketloads.

http://www.machall.com - "Machall v. 4.2"
Art by Ian McConville, this webcomic features some amazing artwork ever done by Illustrator and Photoshop. And it's extremely entertaining to boot.

http://www.sinfest.net - "Sinfest"
Art by Tatsuya Ishida, a Japanese American (as I am led to believe), this strip is a ridiculously humourous take on pimps, religion, life and existence. To be read LIGHT HEARTEDLY ONLY.

Well, I frequent a whole lot more, but those are my faves. My ten minutes are up, and munchies are calling for me. I shall run off now. Ta.

Sweet dreams.

(Listening to :- I've Got a Feeling - Beck)

Reality in Fantasy.

2005-06-27T07:59:00.000-07:00

Now here's a quicky.

I was sitting down by the coffee table this morning, with my plate of steaming hot scrambled eggs (whisked for a long ten minutes, it) and fresh cup of coffee, when I noticed a little ant, no bigger than a pepper shaving, trot on by my copy of the Star newspaper.

As it soon became apparent to me, I found my eyes following this little ant in it's plight to God knows where, and as it may it led me through a shortlived journey in a circle around the coffee cup and down the table leg.

And then I woke up.

It would also seem apparent to me that Kai Sheng had written about lucid dreams in his blog, stating on it's therapeutic nature. However, the idea for this entry came to me a few weeks ago, and I'm bored and dutiless at this moment.

I always have been fascinated by dreams. In a world bound and chained by it's routine loving nature and endless laws, the element of dream serves as the only anomaly that counterweighs the balance of things.

Well, that and jazz music.

My interest in such things also led me to the discovery of a prodigal author, of which his books I live by almost biblically.

But my post today is not simply to dip a hand in the pool of slumber and stir about as we try to find something interesting to find; it is merely to state its significance to our existence, to our lives.

It has been said that dreams are a melting pot from fragments of yesterday, today and tomorrow.

As of yet, that is still left uncertain.

Perhaps, in happenstance, that statement is true. Thus the feeling of deja vu and familiarity found in a foreign environment.

The brain is an enigmatic mystery. I've read somewhere in which it mentions we only use less than 8% of the actual capacity of our entire brain.

8 friggin percent. All that potential, wasted.
Or has it?

In slumber, the brain no longer fights to make sense of electrical nerve impulses that are sent in by the motor neurones of our limbs and senses; in fact, we like to believe it is laid in hibernation, in dormancy.

But perhaps, and only perhaps, the brain may simply be tapping in into it's secondary functions; or rather, proceeding to do everything else it meant to do. Imagine, ponder, deliberate, create, destroy, summarize, compensate; whatever.

Many writers, poets and artists have all tapped into the resources of the dream; Clive Barker, most notably. The idea for the now infamous 'Pinhead' came to him in a daydream, oddly enough.

But then again, sometimes scientists may dream too to find answers; you might never know. Hell, true or not, Newton WAS daydreaming under a damn tree when that fated apple ripped open his skull.

What is a dream?

An image of life? A window to the future?

A reflection of the present?

A motion of the past?

Well, I guess we'll never know.

Perhaps the brain was never meant to make sense of things; perhaps as you read this now, awake and fully conscious, your brain isnt performing it's primary function. Perhaps it is now that it is dormant, asleep.

Perhaps when you stumble into sleep, your mind is awake.

And it rises, and lives.

Toodles.

(Listening to :- Someday we'll know - New Radicals)

Whoaaaaa.....

2005-06-25T08:09:00.000-07:00

Today, for some apparent reason, was a very.....interesting day.

Aside from getting a sweet 10 hours of straight sleep for the first time in a long while, I finally sat my butt down to watch Collateral properly.

I say 'properly' because the last time I attempted to watch Collateral, I had to rush out of the cinema 15 minutes after it started to attend to an emergency.

So, Collateral.

It's the deepest, smartest, smoothest, most bad ass movie I have ever seen in such a long time. And I can't say that much about most movies; not Star Wars 3, not Lord of the Rings, not Constantine (I'm so sorry, so so sorry, I still love you), not any other movie I've seen lately.

The movie itself has a devious concept; a hitman hires a cabbie one night to do five hits out of the blue.

I admit, initially I felt the casting of Tom Cruise to be abit over the top, what with his superstar status and mundane funny man Jamie Foxx opposite him (most probably to be overshadowed).

Months pass after the release of the movie. It becomes a major hit, Tom Cruise wins the MTV Generation award, and Jamie Foxx hits stardom with his role of the great Ray Charles.

Good lord, this movie is THAT good to be such a damn catalyst.

From the deep, moving dialogue to the heart-gripping plot, from the smooth jazz-filled soundtrack to the gritty art style, one thing definitely stands out from everything else.

The locations. Directore Michael Mann has such a damn good eye of looking for such amazing locations to shoot, especially the highway scenes. It may not look like much at first, but in the movie, the nightfall and the elusive bright lights of the city grace those dirty, nervy streets to such beautiful night spots.

The most memorable location scene to me, most probably, was when Jamie Foxx's character falls into a deep realization from the words of Tom Cruise's character, and proceeds to speed insanely down a lightless highway overpass.

God. It was soooo damn beaaaaaaaaaaaaaautiful. GAH.

And the music, oh the sweet music. Aside from Newton Howard's usual thriller-esque orchestral haunts, the soundtrack selection is in it's best form. Pulls from the smooth genre of jazz and R&B, it also somehow manages to make a nice transition into a latin jazz techno in one of the very blazing scenes in a nightclub.

O' lord, this movie is soo fine.

Of course, this movie DOES have Tom Cruise, and I really have to admit, he has the most BAD ASS character in a hitman movie EVER. With such amazing dialogue and such insightful character development (quite interesting for one to see such a sensitive side to such a brutal killer), Cruise's character definitely is one memorable.

(He also has a kick ass suit.)

With a surprise sudden ending and an amazing performance by everybody on cast, this is an AMAZING movie, hands down.

So. Collateral.

Makes rocks of my socks. ^_^.

I'm never going to look at KL at night the same way ever again.

(Listening to :- Drum Performances in 'Drumline' on Channel 42)

huuuuk!

2005-06-24T08:12:00.000-07:00

Well. A thought to me occured this afternoon when I was sitting on a lorry back to the damansara campus from cheras. It is, perhaps, an amalgamation of both a beloved theory conceived by neil gaiman and a debate I had with a friend in my class, whom which I accussed of being too good and not evil enough (you know who you are), because, should one not know, everybody possesses a good degree of evilness in oneself, thus the aspect of 'evilness' is essentially for one to be normal.

Therefore my dear girl, you are not normal. :P

Anyway, where was I?

Oh right. I was in the middle seat you see, next to the school's handyman in the driver's seat and ken dozing off in the other, and I chose to kill my time by counting the number of red motorcycle helmets on the Federal highway (for some apparent reason, red was in the in thing today).

That plan soon proved to be bust, and I decided to join Ken in a journey to the state between wake and sleep.

You know that frame of mind you get when you try to sleep at night? The one where, as your head lays upon your little pillow, your brain starts going into temporary overdrive in which you start thinking about everything, all at once. Things like, for example, what you did today, or what you read in the paper.

I sat there, in such a manner. And it hit me.

Don't you think a baby has the potential to be evil before it has the potential to be good?

Perhaps using a baby as an example is too constricted; anything, any life form, animal or man, insect or bird, has the ability to be evil before it has the ability to be good.

A baby has to do wrong before it can understand what the element of good is; a learning curve, if you will. But if the baby is not nurtured to the proper direction, then the baby will pursue his or her potential to be eivl, so on so forth.

Quite an entertaining thought, I figured it to be.

It may be utter nonsense, but hey, it kept me going through the entire trip back.

Night all. Sweet dreams.

"Failure is the condiment that makes success so much sweeter"
-Some dead guy, stole it off the Star Horoscopes

(Listening to :- Help - The Beatles)

Just for the lack of better things...

2005-06-22T08:02:00.000-07:00

Ripped off of cheryl's blog. I've got...what....2 mins + before my bowl of noodles are ready from the microwave, so here goes..

Take (6 was it?) occupations out of the list, and finish the sentence.

If I could be a scientist
If I could be a farmer
If I could be a musician
If I could be a doctor
If I could be a painter
If I could be a gardener
If I could be a missionary
If I could be a chef
If I could be an architect
If I could be a linguist
If I could be a psychologist
If I could be a librarian
If I could be an athlete
If I could be a lawyer
If I could be an innkeeper
If I could be a professor
If I could be a writer
If I could be a llama-rider
If I could be a bonnie pirate
If I could be a service member
If I could be a photographer
If I could be a philanthropist
If I could be a rap artist
If I could be a child actor
If I could be a secret agent
If I could be a comedian/comedienne
If I could be a priest
If I could be a radio announcer
If I could be a phlebotomist
If I could be Paris Hilton's stylist
If I could be a movie producer
If I could be the CEO of Microsoft
If I could be an astronaut
If I could be a world famous blogger
If I could be a justice on any one court in the world
If I could be married to any current famous political figure
If I could be a dog trainer

If I could be Paris Hilton's stylist, I'd be a really big idiot.
If I could be a llama-rider, we would have little llama babies.
If I could be a chef, hundreds would die.
If I could be a missionary, the drink's on me.
If I could be the CEO of Microsoft, the devil would be my puppy dog.
If I could be married to any current famous political figure, I would still be an idiot.

Now. The gates are open. I plan to be sued in under 72 hours. If I'm lucky.

G'night.

(Listening to:- Apollo 440 - Lost in Space Theme)

Brushing off some dust here.

2005-06-20T19:30:00.000-07:00

Well, it's been awhile since I last blogged; (few weeks?) and since I have nothing else to do laying my arse here in IT class, might as well exercise my license for a blog.

Let see.

The past few weeks have been hectic, oddly enough, though not totally unexpected. School started, workload flows in, report card day flew by with such a pace, and the iMovie entry has been submitted right on time. To those who do not understand what's going on, don't bother trying to.

It'll just make you more lost than you already are.

I shall not recollect and paste here what has happened the last few weeks, rather, I'll opt to blurb about what's happening right now. Just to pass the time not using my impotent brain. Yum.

It comes to my attention that a lot of people copy down their homework in front of the computer screen, looking rather comfortable doing so. Hmmm. ^_^. That's a nice sight, albeit familiar.

The school website hasn't updated yet, though I never quite expect it to do so. Hurm. Heh, the picture of the week section has been concrete for one half a month now. Hmmmmm. I wonder who administrates it?

Staring at UPSR 2001 lists now :P. So many people that left have become.....

Either very empty or very bimbotic. Or just plain jackasses. 'Cept for Nazrul. He's still an idiot.

Hmm.............Amazing Dashboard Widgets.

I'll stop here.

I'm sleepy.

(Listening to :- Nothing)

Cheesy Poofs.

2005-06-08T07:47:00.000-07:00

Raawr raawr.

I think I've been away from school too long. The dust bunnies under my bed have formed a coalition. They have banners up and everything. They even spurted through the media! This is horrible!

First they'll creep on me when I'm asleep. Then, yea..., THEN they'll kill me. Hyuk. Hyuk. I'm not gonna sleep...noo no no no no.

It's inconvenient you know. To be killed. Especially by dust bunnies. Can you imagine that? Me. Dustbunnies. HEh. Hehheheheh. *cough*

Right.

What did I say? ...nevermind.

So. Holidays has been soooooooo merciless. One moment I'm bored outta my wits, the next I'm swarmed with appointments and practices and stuff and what not. I just knowww somebody out there is laughing at me.

Laughing. At. Me.

HEh. Jack arse. So. I have officially rewatched the entire collection of dvd's on my shelf (not many of em, but still), reorganized my desk three times, and counted the number of tiles on my bathroom wall four times.

Productive! I am productive! Hear me roar! See me strut my muskles.

Oooh..yeaaa...

Stepping of the lunacy button for awhile, I am beginning to fall in love with semi neo-industrial artwork, mostly produced by Japanese artists. Possibly the most famous example of this is Jenova, first sketched by Hidetori Sakaguchi of SquareSoft for Final Fantasy 7.

Oh, and H.R. Giger. Yes, it's sick, to those who've seen it before.

(Most famous Giger creation, which is conincidentally the most tame: the monsters in both Alien and Species)

Something about the fusion of flesh and machine..... simply enthralling.

Perfect example of beauty in the most darkest of places.

*snap*

Sshh. I hear the dustbunnies again. Good lord, their pulling out their knives! I gotta go. Gotta go.

*snap*

"Every hour wounds, the last one kills."
-Excerpt from a book from American Gods
by Neil Gaiman

(Listening to :- Delicate - Damien Rice)

Deja Vu.

2005-06-03T08:51:00.000-07:00

Good evening.

Holidays are a blessed thing until of course, you start running out of things to do. This is not a fate in my case, for I have realized I hardly had any time to myself ever since the holidays started.

Practices, family functions, emergencies, pre scheduled events......
Perhaps I should be glad.

But I'm not. We all want the things we don't have; often things that you have in one situation but want in another. To avoid contradicting and making an absolutely pointless post on this night, I'll zip this topic and bury it next to my conscience.

Have you ever felt the feeling known as Deja Vu?

It's French, lest I be mistaken, for something I am yet to know. Anybody? Anyway, it presents itself as a feeling of familiarity; of exact familiarity, to establish the unique.

Something that had occured exactly as it has before, of which you can hardly recall.

But is it really something that has happened before? In a statement made by a realist against a dreamer, Deja Vu is simply a malfunction of the brain that recognizes an event as something that has occured before.

Does it mean that your brain is frying? ^_^. Is it like an optical illusion, whereby your supposedly limitless brain is side stepped by a little trick?

Oh good-ee.

I simply love when in turns out that something assumed so strong and powerful is in the end toppled by a little hurdle. It's so fun ^_^.

That's why I support the underdogs.

Ta.

(Listening to :- Headlong - Queen)

Pitter patter

2005-05-29T01:10:00.000-07:00

Right.

Wonderful weather we're having! It looks so blue, and rain is keeping our tropical temperature down to a squeaker. Good good stuff.

Woke up early to go see Kingdom of Heaven this morning. It was an alright movie, nothing special. Though certain Bloom enthusiasts would claim this to be a worthy epic attributed to celebrated Ridley Scott's name, I felt the movie a little bit empty in terms of beef.

The movie flowed too fast for my tastes, making it seem a little bit rushed with close to no room for letting it all sink in. Abit like the third Harry Potter movie; 'cept without the cool wizzy frizzy flying stuff. The dialogue was well done, keeping in with the times. Best line?

"Convert to Islam, repent later!" shouts a Christian bishop upon seeing a massive Muslim army. Beautiful.

All in all, it's quite a good popcorn cruncher. I'm just not satisfied with Orlando Bloom, who comes off abit like Keanue Reeves. Both are pretty stony actors in general, but they seem to fit well with their characters. *shrug* Good agents, they have.

On another note, I finally picked up 'Spiral' yesterday at MPH; a book I've been tracking down madly for about a year now.

History Lesson!

For those who enjoy the 'Ringu' japanese movies and the more recent English hollywood remakes, the series started off as a highly popular japanese trilogy of books.

Get this, the trilogy goes by the names of: Ring, Spiral, Loop.

*shrug* There's gotta be a reason behind it; only to be cleared by the third book, which is yet to be found.

Anyways, the books been really awesome so far; almost nothing from the experience has been drawn away in translation to English. Always a good thing.

I think I'll go back to reading now. Catch up later.

Happy Hols.

"In the afternoon, we squeeeeze.."
-Anonymous jazz-esque song, found off the net

(Listening to :- Bulldog Mansion - Stargirl)

You'll Never Waaalk Aloone!

2005-05-26T04:58:00.000-07:00

Oh. my. God.

They won. Liverpool won. We won. They won. They, won. THEY won. They WON. THEY WON.

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!

This morning was without a doubt one of the most amazing, no wait THE most match I have ever sinked my teeth to in my entire life. Which isn't very long, regarding. But still, it was pretty damn bitchin'!

Get this: I got up, right, got my self a cup of piping hot coffee and sat my arse down in front of the telly 10 minutes before the start of the match.

The champions league song came on ("Chaaampioooonss.....We aaarrre...") and the players came on to the field. I then get struck with an oddly ominous feeling, as if something wasn't right; as if something was bound to go wrong... I dismissed it, however. Attributing it mild hunger.

And then all crap hit the proverbial fan.

Maldini slapped in a sloppy goal in the 50th second.

It crushed me. I couldn't talk, I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe. It felt absolutely horrible. This may or may not have to do with the fact that the burning coffee spilt all over my lap, so......

Anyway, I got over it. It's just a goal, I mean, comebacks can still happen when you're down 1-0, right?

Oh baby, how naive was I. As a virgin, folks. Crespo hit in two, admittedly wicked, goals over a usually bumbling Jerzy Dudek. If I was crushed by the first goal, I was absolutely decimated. Imagine road kill, repeatedly run over until only minor traces of flesh and sinew remain.

Half time came. I was just, I dunno, sad. Seven-odd amazing matches only to end up like this? Without a fight?

Man, that felt familiar. It felt, somewhat, like the League Cup final against Chelsea, when Gerrard unwittingly headered in an own goal all over again. It felt, somewhat, like every single match in the Premier League post February.

*shrug* I'm up now, I told myself. Might as well watch this.

Second half re-opened. Hamann in, Kewell out.

Alright, the opening of the half wasn't too exciting. Tap the ball here, tap the ball there. Make some close runs, a few of them were yawners.

Then Gerrard headered a sweet cross in, right at the top of the 54th minute. I didn't jump around bursting with joy, I was being "realistic". JC's always been bragging on and on about AC Milan's and everybody's been talking about their remarkable back line and defense, so yea, I thought that could at the most go down 3-2.

Smicer scored two minutes after that; a rare, smashing goal that you could never believe be produced by Smicer or by someone of his quality. I mean, it's Smicer. He's....wonky.

A little boy inside my chest is screaming at that moment; a thrashing, violent fit that never ceases to shut up.

But I resist; trying to be ever more, "realistic".

And then, on the top of an hour, Gerrard gets fouled in the penalty box. I can't remember much after that; just much screaming, jumping, and kicking of the wall. Note to self: Toes are very much breakable.

Xabi Alonso, known to myself as Nut's favourite little Spanish boy, steps up. The arena silences to a hush whisper. I could hear my heartbeat; sweat was dripping down my nose. The fan above me slowed in it's rotation. The cats outside stopped mating. I stopped breathing.

A three-step jog, of brisk but subtle steps, and a scoop.

Dida blocks it.

My heart stops.

Alonso runs straight for the rebound. He kicks. It smashes in.

I fell to the floor, panting. I swore I was bleeding. I swore I was dreaming. I swore I died and went to football fan heaven.

Play went on about ten minutes more before I picked myself up and stowed my lumbering arse on the couch.

Full time ends. Extra time begins. More snacks on my lap. Another cup of coffee. The dread of a heavily tired day looms largely. And care isn't something I exercise.

First half of ET; defensive formation. Cisse' was brought in 10 minutes before the end of full time, you could see so clearly what Benitez was trying to pull off. It's ingenius, in a sense, putting in your best striker when everybody on the field is tired, and see how much trouble and how pissed he can make the opposing team.

And pissed they were.

Second half of ET; a few good shots by AC Milan, blocks by an increasingly formidable Jerzy Dudek.

Liverpool looked, interestingly, like a changed team after Hamann stepped in. They looked like a Godlike-prowess when Gerrard put in the first goal. It became increasingly obvious; the flaws of AC Milan.

The defensive line looked very strained by the 57th minute, as I could remember it, when Gerrard was allowed to trod merrily down the left lane, only to give an amazing cross wasted by Milan Baros.

Dida grew less animated. Liverpool's passes were sharper. They ran faster. They started going after loose balls. Carragher and Hyypia once again grew enough confidence to be the towers they were born to be.

On a side note, Jamie Carragher is the best, the most amazing, the most acrobatic defender I have ever seen. Too bad he pulled a groin muscle.

He ain't gonna have no babies.

Doesn't matter, he kept on playing anyway.

Three minutes from the resolute whistle; Serginho rips in a killer cross right into the box. I saw Schevchenko, European Footballer of the Year, rise from the sea of Reds, and I knew; it's over.

But nooooo, my virginity steps before me.

I closed my eyes; and I heard "Dudek saves!", and I open them only to see the rebound from Schevchenko be tipped over the bar by Dudek's amazing reflexes.

Is this real? Is the world's most bumbling keeper actually pumping blood into the heart of Liverpool?

Penalties.

I thought back, four days ago, to that infamous Arsenal vs MU match. Arsenal, outclassed and outplayed on every aspect of the game, safe goalkeeping, beat MU by sheer luck. MU were clearly the dominant.

But looking at the penalty line-up; it would seem the game has been sliced right open.

Gripping onto a Liverpool badge I had with my since I was 7, bought from England, sweat rolled down the back of my neck. Do or Die!

Serginho steps up. Dudek wiggles abit. The brazilian kicks to the left. Dudek jumps short. And the ball flies over the bar!

I jumped up, pumping fist into air. I did a little jig. I shut up, and sat down.

Hamann steps on the spot. Dida hops abit. Hamann hesitates. I scream. Dida wiggles. Hamann blasts it into a left curl. Dida blocks. But it still goes in!

I jumped up and down, jig jig. Shut up, siddown.

I couldn't remember his name, but the guy with the horrible shave steps up. Dudek stiffens up. Horrible shave guy pumps into left. Dudek jumps to left. SAVE!

I'm screaming now, not caring that very soon my mother would come out and beat the daylights outta me.

The next Liverpool shot goes in. Heart stops.

Kaka of AC Milan steps up. Looks abit like Joshua. Dudek shakes booty. Bends far apart. Shoots straight down middle. Dudek flies off to Singapore. Scores. Kaka happy happy.

I siddown, shutup.

Riise steps up. Heart beats. Dida wiggles. Riise shoots. BLOCKS!

I remain seated, shuddup summore.

Let's bring it to where it gets interesting. Liverpool leads, 4-3. One save, and its over.

Euro player of the Year, Schevchenko steps up. Looks pretty. Stadium pin drop silent. Dudek, obviously scared balless.

It was like slow motion. He made a little jog, starting with his right leg. He pumps a fake on his second step. Drives it with his right. Dudek appears to jump to the left. But no! He sticks out his right hand! SAVE!

I run around, screaming my lungs out. Starts banging on my parent's bedroom door. Slides down the stair rails. Rolls about. Oh baby. That was awesome.

That concludes it. The best match ever played this millenium. Won by Liverpool. Five time winners. Is it true? Is the Revolution starting?

Will they win summore?

I damn well hope so.

"WOOOOH! YEAAAA! YESSS YESSS YESSS! *bump* ow. WHOOOOO! LIVERPOOOL!"
-Me, This morning. 5.50am.

(Listening to :- "You'll Never Walk Alone" - Liverpool Theme Song)

To you, the Lee.

2005-05-24T02:51:00.000-07:00

Additional Mathematics.

Good lord. Just...Goodness. Its...I...gah.

Personally, between you and me, I very much would like to dig a hole right now. Not to dig a grave or anything, just...to dig. And dig and dig and dig and dig and dig. And perhaps, if I'm really lucky, I might strike oil or something.

But in any case, I'll still keep on digging and digging.

Exams have been, of a sort, an amalgamation of everything I conceptualized to be components of Hell.

Minus the graphic sex scenes. (But you didn't hear that from me, really.)

I go in every morning with some sort of motivation in me and perhaps a glimmer of enthusiasm, but by the end of the day, I'm thrown out of the room, bleeding, impotent and torn, with a migraine to boot.

Today, however, was an enhancement of this.

Perhaps it was due to the Heavenly break of two days in the 3rd quarter of the exams. Wesak day coupled with a juicy weekend and all, :S.

An appropriate analogy of this is to picture a glass breaking (combustion or otherwise) into pieces when dipping it into boiling hot water right after keeping it in a freezer overnight.

Or exploding teeth, to all who know.

But then again, I was never really good with my exams, so hey.

Five seconds ago, I happened realized that perhaps, for the first time my life, that TV is bad for you.

A Dr. (excuse me if i am mistaken) Lawrence Walter Ng on the tube is telling me to love my exams. "You must pump life into yourself! Love what you're doing! Tell your mind to love your exams, and it'll come out well!"

Bastard.

Anybody know him? Can you gimme an address or something? I'd like to have a - er - talk with him.

Right, I think I'll pull back for now. My head's pounding abit harder than usual. Mrrffgle.

Enjoy the evening.

"It's quite amazing....his madness is the only thing keeping him sane. How is that possible?"
-Despair, of Sandman, Neil Gaiman

(Listening to :- Obsession - Some anonymous spanish jazz musician)

Ohhhh.

2005-05-21T08:00:00.000-07:00

Was watching Dragnet again this afternoon. One of the cracks really hit me as amusing, and I thought why the hell not.

So.

Things that separate Man and Animals: A List

1. We use cutlery, they don't.
2. We wear pants, they don't.
3. We spend days on end in front of tv, they don't.
4. We think sniffing each other's hindside is appalling. (though staring at it is
perfectly fine)
5. Animals have outcasts, we have Singaporeans.
6. We have less hair. (most of us)
7. We have the urge to do the nasty with them. They don't with us.
8. We herd them, they prey on us.
9. We prey on them, they herd us.

(what)

and.....

10. They do not have the ability to control sexual urges. We do. We just don't exercise it often.

Well, there you have it. If you want to sue me, talk to my assistant.

"Streebeck, there are but only two things which separates us from those savage animals in the jungle. Cutlery, and the ability to control our sexual nature."

"No, not really."

-Joe Friday and Streebeck, Dragnet

(Listening to:- The cheering of fans - Arsenal vs Man U)

Vava voom.

2005-05-20T03:25:00.000-07:00

Yes!

Three days of non-exams, before they resume again! Not much to whoop about, but I don't really care. I get to sleep. On my bed. For 8 whole hours. Straight. Without interruption. Without thinking of crunching numbers, or of cells, or of chemical compounds, or about that damned Si Tenggang's boat.

Oh baby. That feels good.

Of course, as I write this, I haven't quite managed to fulfill this piece of activity; this being written shortly after returning from school.

But that isn't the point. Sssh. No technicalities.

So, exams. Geezus. I figure that's what Death feels like. A surge of pain and confusion and suffering coupled together with enough stress to climb into you to make your potency drop straight to hell. Followed by long bouts of silence, and nothing. Shortly after comes a short break, feeding you the illusion of safety.

Only to repeat all over again.

I swear, when this is over, I'll leave my brain up there on the roof. Next to my compassion. And it's going to stay there, and hopefully, if I'm lucky, it'll start to grow up. Cuz it's not doing any of that in my head right now.

Damnit. I don't ever want to think that hard about a subject ever again.

I'm going to wear a sash. I want to feel pretty.

Did I have a lapse of sanity there? Oh baby yeah.

Which reminds me. Consequential events lead me to make the following. Call it an extension of a joke of a joke.

The sun hid somewhere beyond the mountains,
between the sky and twilight,
as I walked slowly towards the building,
Built of stone and granite.

She waited for me there,
With eyes glaring wide.
And all the tools that they had gave me,
I pushed it all aside.

I heed the call of nature,
Of grass and wind and sands,
I know not of techniques and methods,
So I did it with my hands.

I gripped them firmly,
And she groaned to my delight.
All of my years have come to this,
It's gonna be a hell of a night.

A swift motion of repetition,
From back to front to back,
But to no bovine fruition,
Why doesn't she cut me some slack?

And finally,
Everything came to be,
The milk spilt out into the bucket,
Leaving a sweaty cow and a happy me.

Right.

I'm quite positive I just lost all my literate readers. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, looking at the circumstances.

I know the passage up there might have came out lame or weird, but I guess that's me.

That poem is dedicated to Cheryl, for while everyone else gave me a glare of fear and irk when I expressed my affection for farm animals, she gave me instead a look as if I was a thing of retardance.

God bless your spastic little soul, girl.

I guess I'll draw myself back for now, seeing as how I can do no further damage in this single, solitary post. Til' next time, I guess.

Ta'.

"Come on laaa..."
- Vivek Vasant, 4 Sc 2

(Listening to :- No Such Thing - John Mayer)

Clocking Off.

2005-05-12T03:46:00.000-07:00

For now, at least.

The sun's setting again, slowly and sinfully, as it does everyday, again and again. A timpani solo runs in my head, with the veins boldening so badly I swear it'll burst.

But baby, I'm not that lucky.

My legs are on the table (prior to writing this, actually, if you want to get technical, which in terms of causing trouble, I'm sure you do) and I'm watching the street from my little window.

I'm feeling drained.

I'm feeling empty.

And ironic it is, that my playlist seems to play mellow songs, and only those soft, deceptively sad ones, one after another after another.

Heaven, are you watching me? Am I this lucky?

I won't be posting for another 2 weeks or so, mainly due to examinations which never seem to cease, and partially due to the possibility that I just don't want to. The beauty of having the freedom to do these things; sometimes,

I just don't want to do it.

Which is alot to say, compared to many other things I do.

So I guess I'm clocking off now, for nothing ever seems to be moving now. Time does stop actually, but only in your head.

And perhaps, if I don't blog for much longer than that, please assume that I died.

It's not hard; just stop coming.

"Do not mourn, he probably wouldn't have heard you."

Hmm. What a nice statement to engrave on your tombstone.

What's your fancy?

Good night.

(Listening to :- Immortality - Pearl Jam)

Give me a minute.

2005-05-07T07:54:00.000-07:00

Imagine for a moment, that you had just died.

Let's go abit further and say it was a car accident; an unfortunately collision that sent you barreling towards the abyss.

And at the instance just before you hit the windscreen that would shatter your skull, you suddenly open your eyes, stirred from a strange slumber.

You find yourself in a room that seemed to stretch on for ages.

And in that room, standing in a perfectly straight and firm line, are all the people have ever met in the course of your life.

Every soul that had spent a word for, every person you had ever connected eyes with, every lover you had ever shared saliva with. Each and every single Tom, Dick and Harry, from your parents to the last person you shared a seat with on a bus; if you ever took one.

You do not feel anything. The next thing you do is walk towards the person closest to you, whoever he or she may be. That person whispers something into your ear. And you suddenly feel something; an emotion.

The compressed emotion of all good and bad you had done onto this person.

You nod at the person, who promptly walks away. You move to the next person, who whispers to you, and walks away.

This continues, all the way until the last person leaves.

And you find yourself alone, with the collective of emotion that you had received.
In your heart (or what seems to be your heart), you feel the good and the bad outweighing each other; whichever the dominant.

And then you are Taken, and that was your judgement.

I have noticed, what with all the information in Sejarah and all, that an aspect of Buddhism was very similar to an aspect found in Christianity. Buddhists hold on to the 'Karma' theory, in which a person's good deeds must overshadow the bad ones in order for one to achieve 'Moksya', possibly a term for perpetual bliss, in which the person no longer has to follow the Reincarnation Cycle, instead to be sent into the reaches of Heaven or someplace like that.

In Christianity, however, is the eternal Judgement.

I'm not really aware of the beliefs in Christianity, but after rather lengthy conversation/debate with a friend of mine earlier tonight, it has come to my attention that the Judgement takes form of a scale.

A church I spotted once in Paris had an interesting set of sculptures on the archway of its entrance. Four pairs of monks can be seen on both sides, apparently big names in the Bible (I'm not that aware, so sue me). And in the middle stands a sort of persona of today's Grim Reaper, with a scale.

See the connection?

Perhaps, and this is just an implication more than a theory, that is the thick line that connects all of the 'touchy subjects'.

Perhaps, the names are all just for cosmetic reasons?

-Tamat-

"I do not fear sleeping cities. What I fear is when they finally wake up, and rise above us all."
-Old Man, Neil Gaiman's Sandman

(Listening to:- Sky Dance - Anonymous)

On to Istanbul!

2005-05-04T02:31:00.000-07:00

Right.

I apologize for not updating thse days; been rather busy lately what with exams and all.

And on top of that, I'm quite busy right now. However, I do have time for this:

LIVERPOOL FC
BEAT
CHELSEA.

Isn't that just so damn cool?

Was up this morning, 'round 3.00 onwards to watch the match. That would mean about....let say, 3 hours of sleep?

Anyway, I was initially pretty dazed from fatigue, but after a cup of coffee and tin of biscuits, my head's buzzin' with enough sugar to last me through May.

So, when Luis Garcia made that controversial goal in the 4th minute, you could probably imagine the hell I pulled all over the house. It's a miracle I didn't wake anybody up.

The 92 minutes that ensued after that had enough heat to cause me multiple heart attacks and maybe acute paranoia.

I slept at 5 after the match, with a smile on my face and half a tin of sugar puffs in my stomach.

It felt good.

Until I woke up, however. Then it felt like hell.

Should there be a moral in this story? Hmm. I'm not sure. Perhaps...

There's always Hell after Heaven?

-Tamat-

"Blood isn't thicker than water;
It's just sweeter."
-Beggar, 'Sunday'

(Listening to :- Laura - Scissor Sisters)

Bah. Humans.

2005-04-29T08:38:00.000-07:00

Television, I believe, is the only medium that can fully portray the actual Human Element; even to an extent that it makes it a form of entertainment.

My entry tonight is dedicated to every single reality tv-show out there; from the lowly Nescafe Kick Start to business-orientated 'Apprentice' and even to the image extravanganza that is 'Queer Eye for the Straight Guy'.

First of all, let's begin with the original honcho that spawned this unholy trend:
Survivor.

Remember that? Goodness. I can still remember how shocked I was when that queer guy won the whole thing; even more so when I saw Malaysian Airlines actually being taped for american television.

Survivor, when it was initially released, was an instant hit. The concept was fresh, interesting. Get a couple of normal everyday people, chuck them on an island, and leave 'em there; coming back only to torture them with sick games and reward them with pleasurable prizes.

Bottomline: It was different. People loved it, simply because the people they were watching were no Superstars; no Brad Pitt nor J Lo, nor were they fit athletes that possessed amazing assets to stare at all day.

They were just normal people.
And with that, perhaps, not only lies the winning factor; but there lies the disgrace of humanity in itself.

I'm not here to talk about the gimmicks or elements of these shows; I'm not a person that does that. You know that; I know that.

I'm here to hopefully establish the common link that remains the 'theme' in all of these shows.

It is, I conclude after some observation, the failures and negativity of human ability that attracts people to watch it.

'Survivor' showcases numerous acts of backstabbing, coupled together with forced social groups (and exiles), and a healthy dose of drama, which in turn, spurred many toungue-lashes.

'The Amazing Race' (which, personally, after 7 seasons, has lost its appeal) itself contained a dangerous sense of competition; with hard-earned grudges and the ever-common blame game when a member of the team fails.

There's so much more in every other reality show conceivable; especially in those gawd-awful 'When Animals Attack 5!' and 'Stupidity Caught on Tape!'.

Good lord folks. What do you think make America's Funniest Home Videos so damn funny? Certainly not the jokes cracked the series' many hosts (which, in fact, are lame and very bland).

People screw up. They were caught on tape. It's funny. Ha. Ha.

And please don't get me started on 'The Simple Life'.
It has Paris Hilton. It's awful. It's horrible. I don't know why Americans love it. Odd people, those Yankees.

But I shall digress, partially.

Not all reality shows, in my point of view, press and rely heavily on the failure of human rationality.

Certain shows, like the Queer Eye for the Straight Guy series and.....uhm, well, I can't think of any other, those kind of shows actually press upon the improvement of people.

Initially, when I first viewed it in Australia, I held onto much cynism and skeptism prior to actually watching it. In a nutshell it had a potentially weak concept, a couple of hip, homosexual men redecorate and rebuild the life of an often messy, down-handed heterosexual man.

But in execution, wow. It works. Perhaps it lies in the personalities of the hosts, which are amazingly entertaining with razor-sharp wit. But personally, I think it's just the thought of a guy being 'mommed' up by a group of metrosexual queers.

Whatever it is, it's a pretty tasty package.

In this series, I see what could be the future of reality television, should the world be a 'perfect place'. But in reality (pardon the pun), it is obvious that people enjoy watching normal citizens suffer than to be enhanced.

It's human nature. Car crash happens, everybody wants to see it. Life's like that.

I suppose, there's not much else to say about it. The future of television somehow lies in the hands of reality television, which in turn, is heading in an eerily cynical direction.

=S.

Good night, folks.

"Hedgehogs all know one big thing, but Foxes, they know many little things."
-The Oriental Man, Neil Gaiman

(Listening to :- Big Yellow Taxi - Counting Crows)

Overclocked.

2005-04-26T07:55:00.000-07:00

Right.

I just killed off my BM lisan draft.
'Took a couple of violent stomps on it to end its misery.
Wasn't hard.

As much as I enjoy writing, if anything would prove itself to be the bane of my sad existence, it would have to be writing in Malay. Not that I'm particularly racist or anything (possible lie), though I do boycott many breeds of Swedish, French, Australian, and especially Singaporean people.

(Any Singaporeans out there? HAH. Eat my edibles!)

So. Ahem. I was born a proverbial banana.

I'm Chinese, though I know next to nothing of the ever-graceful Chinese language (taking lessons here, give me some credit).

I'm a Malaysian, though I barely pass most of my BM papers.

If anything, it would seem that I can only make do with the English language;
Though I'm stuck with an English teacher who is possibly a schizophrenic. I mention the word 'possibly', because on the other hand, she may just be senile.

But I digress. I'm ranting too much here.

On another note, I've finally settled down to write a piece. ^_^.
It felt good.

I composed the poem out of boredom, to be honestly frank.
And on top of that, I wasn't really in a mood to crunch out structured verses to make it sound good enough for a rhyme.

So I decided to pig out and produce a freestyle attempt; a particular angle I never quite fancy. But hell, it's therapeutic enough for my sake.

It concerns of Death and Purgatory; two aspects of existence that as intrigued me ever since I picked up writing. Those are just such fascinating elements to me, how life always leads to the end, in which it may not be an ending but an over-stretched epilogue.

Again, I'm blabbering here.

(A small note: I've modelled Death after Neil Gaiman's impression of It, or Her, whichever. Sandman fans, unite!)

The poem is currently posted up on FictionPress.com, go check it if you have the time ^_^.
Pen name's Constant_Murdock.

Or I could just post it here, but I don't really see the point.

*yawn*

So, I guess, with that, I'll be leaving you.

Gah, how fatigue rides on my aching back.

Good night ^_^.

Pleasant dreams.

(Listening to :- Latin Simone - Gorillaz)

Sports Day - Revised.

2005-04-24T03:03:00.000-07:00

Hmm hmm. It's a typhoon out there ^_^.

So Sports Day is finally over, after many weeks of hard work, pseudo-drama, sweat, blood, and blistered fingers. And I must say, it's been pretty damn good. No doubt I'm going to miss the lengthy periods of doing something other than classwork
(leng-THY indeed ^_^); but hell, everything has to come to an end.

And what an end it was.

First for house decoration, second for marching, and third overall (we're not last! booya!); one would notice the apparent decrescendo in the results.

Still, I remain paranoid. It's a friggin conspiracy. Like the Roswell Alien sightings and horrible TV series, and the secret behind Teh Tarik (lies not in the pull!).

But no matter; like good sheep, I will follow the herd, 'bahh-ing' throughout.

Oooh, Haiku. Fear me.

Anyway, this morning proved itself to be an ironic gesture to the whole event. Last Sunday, a steady downpour of rain crippled the sporting event whereas this morning seemed to be one of the hottest mornings ever to grace Malaysian atmosphere.

Oh Mother Nature, how your humour frustrates me.

She must be menopausal.

It started off fairly well; with a steady income of marchers signing in (though we still lacked in the final count) and sound check went pretty well in terms of technical issues.

Fell asleep in the grandstand though. Mm...that felt good.

Inevitably, the clock twists it's cruel hand to 7.45 am, and the events began!
Picking up where the previous Sunday left off, the whole marching routine came into fruition. From the past what- ten years I've been in this school, it has come to my attention that there be the standard 'criteria' that is needed in every Sports Day in the history of the school, as far as Marching goes.

So, the usuals:
1. At least one house will attempt a PEACE routine.
(blatant attempt to look like perfect angels in front of the judges;
I'm being hypocritical here, but heck. You know who you are! Buncha fakers :P)

2. At least one house will face confusion in routine.
(I'm not stating any names, but heck, it involves sticks and clean-shaven scalps.
Bald people rock.)

3. At least one house will attempt to use sex appeal.
(This one only implies in the last, what, 3 years? Yea, you know who you are.)

4. There will be PA system problems.
(I love Malaysia. Your stadiums really, really make me smile.)

5. There will be fighting/implication of violence.
(At least one house does a fighting bit; Seladang had one this year,
and Beruang practically had violence in their balding monks.)

6. There will be a fair share of corn.
(Mm...Corn.)

7. There will be at least THREE marchers in every house that has no idea what the
hell he/she is doing.
(THREE. Count 'em. The prize goes to Seladang Cheras for the least number
of these individuals. The fact that they possess the least number of marchers
in the competition contributes to this. Sssh...tell no one.)

8. There will be poking objects.
(Every year sees at least a house utilizing a poking object (normally sticks) in
their routine. Cool, no?)

9. There will be more corn.
(Mmm......the goodness)

10.Helang house will ALWAYS, somehow, ALWAYS come out on top for something.
(I mean, what the hell? Hah! There. I said it. On the endless reaches of the
internet. Come on you Helang-ers! Give me death-threats! HAH!)

So there we go. The usuals. I had fun writing this one;

I really did ^_^.

And so, marching passed and the running events began. Being out of contention and typically being a below-average athlete (using nice words here), I spent most of the time fishing out runners that are needed, providing a steady supply of water, and providing medical attention.

In between my duties however, I would be found pigging out under an umbrella in the central out-skirts of the field. Wonderful, no?

But as far as all Sports Days are concerned, a fair share of drama took place.
To those involved in it, I hope whatever happened resolved peacefully and I'd like to give mention that I'm always here to assist. You know who you are. ^_^.

And, as it would seem, I think I lost abit more sanity today. Between bouts of asking 'Aren't we COOL? Don't we sound really HIP?' to any a poor soul found in the vicinity, I found myself feeling slightly...giddy.

Lord help me.

Finally however, as I collected my marbles, everything came to an end.

The sun drifted slightly higher, congregations of souls continually disbanded slowly but surely, and time and memories were swept silently away with the wind.

I'd be damned if I were to forget any of this. ^_^.
I wonder if next year will be as great as this?

I doubt it however;
I foresee much stress and loss of hair. 'Til then however, I'll keep this day safely locked in the back of my mind, hoping it won't rot like everything else in there.

Have a nice evening.

And please, enjoy the rain ^_^.

(Listening to :- Kolibre - Maksim Mrvica)

Madness.

2005-04-22T02:47:00.000-07:00

A theory of one passed on to another.

'Insanity', by far, is one the most misjudged and misunderstood terms ever to be conceived in the history of the human language.

Ten minutes ago, I prompted seven different people into revealing what the word 'insanity' brings to their minds.

Straightjackets. Nonsensical blabbering. Excessive salivation. Mad hair-dos. Asylums.

You know, the usual.

So, yea, I suppose that's the general impression the public gets concerning 'crazy' people. Typically people you do not want to meet; those that slip through the cracks of humanity into their own little world constructing in the deep psyche of their minds, those that are no longer conscious of the world around them.

You know, the loons.

However, that image, i believe, is just a mere passage of a beautifully crafted story that is far more complex to digest than any simple theory.

At least, more so than THAT regurgitated rubbish.

I, for one, believe that insanity lives inside all of us. Every single human being that walks on this earth is, perhaps, a little crazy.

The person sitting next to you in the aeroplane, the garbage man who collects your daily trash, the respected figure behind the cabinet.

I know it sounds crazy (pun intended, don't kill me), but just think about it for a moment.

What makes us unique? What distinguishes us from every other person on this planet?

Something special about your mind, something special about your behaviour. Your quirks, your sense of imagination.

A 'sane' man wouldn't let himself dream about places unimagined and fantasically impossible; a 'normal' person would never dare to challenge power.

So what if every artist and leader in the world is a little bit crazy?

Da Vincci was said to be crazy; but as soon as his ideas were accepted to be 'ingenious', his 'madness' turned into 'eccentricity'.

Personally, I think that insanity is an essential ingredient to creation.
And I would also like to think that we're a little bit mad;

Wouldn't that be cool?

My apologies if tonight's entry is abit detached and messy; it's just a spontaneous thought.

Hmm hmm.

I guess I'll be off now. Have a nice evening ^_^.

Pleasant dreams.

(Listening to :- Don't Stop Me Now - Queen)

Screen.

2005-04-18T06:44:00.000-07:00

I have, for as long as I can remember, a rather strong penchant for movies.

The smell of popcorn, the small yet comfortable seats of the cinema, all along with that noisy kid up in front, stepping into a screening hall has always been a personal joy for me.

I suppose its the novelty I get with the experience that draws me so much to it.

For two hours (or maybe even three), you suddenly become, well, not yourself. The life that you had always known suddenly disappears to the background, and you find yourself in the shoes of someone else; the protagonist of the movie perhaps, or maybe the innocent bystander. Everything that you had presently worried about, be it homework or bill payments or relationship isues, just evaporates into thin air.

For two hours, you need not worry about yourself.

I just love that. It's a beautifully articulate feeling.

*huge grin*

If I could narrow down the specific genre of film I particularly enjoy the most, well, then you'd have to wait a few days. I personally love each and every single genre, from the heavy emotionally driven biographical movies, to the light-hearted, often logic-free teenage drama comedies whatnots.

(Yes, I do. I happen to fancy "Ten Things I hate About you". So sue me.)

Perhaps I shouldn't have told you that.

Oh well.

But if I would come to a conclusion, after countless of hours of thinking and contemplation, I'd have to say I'm a real sucker for Horror Movies.

Hmm hmm. ^_^.
Of course, this does not mean that I'm a brick when watching one. In fact, I probably would be the one screaming the loudest there.

(No joke, I screamed my lungs out the first time I saw the original Japanese 'Ringu', to the absurd point that my neighbour had called my house to check if there was anything wrong......Whoa. I need soundproof walls)

But I guess that's why I love it so much. The sheer terror. The terrifying sense of dread. Muahaha!

Oh, and the night after I watch a particularly scary one.
It would never fail to be a sleepless one, and one with alot of sweat.

I'll let you sit on that one.

However, I find myself very disappointed with the way the Horror Movie genre is moving towards these past few years. It would seem, from filtering through the massive archives of post 2000 horror movies, that film makers like to jump out and scare people.

And it would seem, they like supposedly 'hot-bodied' women.

So they put it together. And we get movies like 'Scream' and 'Darkness Falls'.

(No offence to those who liked Screamed; I thought Scary Movie was far more creative than that)

I miss, really miss, movies that echo the times of legend Alfred Hitchcock.

Horror films that do not rely on loud, shocking music and a gruesome face to scare people. Horror films that pulled away at the strings of your minds; those that plays and toys around with your deepest darkest fears.

Movies that actually change something, that actually make you suffer hours and days after you leave the cinema. Gosh, those movies were wicked sick.

Unfortunately, however, those movies are long gone. The best possible replacement you can get are from the healthy stock of Asian Horror Movies that are only recently catching on fire, and perhaps even that new indian director M. Night Shyamalan.

(I thought The Village was really good, though it cannot be classed as a horror movie)

Til' the next film prodigy comes about, however, I am at a lost. I shall now seek refuge in taking long walks around the town in the dead of the night, in the hopes of getting the heeby jeebies.

Gah. I'm pathetic. >_<.

I will, however, continue to teach myself how to make such wonderful movies, and will light the world on fire!

Booya!

Til then, I will just refer to it as a dream. Another one in the long line of other hopes and dreams.

Good night, boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen.

I'm a comin' to knock on your windows.

(Listening to:- New York City- Norah Jones)

My Today. Complete with pain!

2005-04-17T07:28:00.000-07:00

Today was, literally speaking, a very unnatural and unexpected day.

I woke up today, in the wake of going to an amazing a cappella concert (The Breakers!) with a couple of friends, close and not so, in a state of oblivion to the coming events of the day.

Today, in fact, was supposed to be the annual Sports Day, held in the Bank Simpanan Nasional Stadium.

(I say the word 'supposed' because it kinda ended abruptly due to weather problems.....more on that later.)

So there I was, counting the number of dust bunnies on my very white ceiling (and it is rather white indeed), as the clock next to my radio displayed a very bold
"11.30", when my handphone rang.

The following may or may not have been the exact conversation that took place:

Friend: Dude, what time you comin' over?
Me : Good morning. Comin' over where?
Friend: Uhm. BSN?
Me : What the hell is BSN?
Friend: A stadium...?
Me : Why the hell should I be in a stadium..?
Friend: Uhm. Sports Day...?
Me : Spor...Oh.
Friend: Mmhmm.
Me : Well, shit.

So, still half-asleep and dazed into contention, I rose from my morbid sleep into a mixed madness of arranging, packing, and showering, perhaps all at the same time.

Today was a very hectic day.

Though it would seem rather odd for one who has been working extremely very hard for a specific occassion to eptly forget about the occassion on the day itself, it's not at all odd for me.

I, have come to realize, am odd.

Today was a long day.

So there I was, chucking my stuff (amps, guitar and all) into the back of my mum's car and hopping on to the front seat. Nerves and adrenaline pumped through my veins as the air-conditioning freezed my neck relentlessly.

(That reminds me, I should nag her to fix it)

I was psyched, so say the very least. There be big things on the line today, big risks, big payoffs, big jobs, and all that 'big' talk that doesn't seem to fit into any context.

Until, of course, the car reached a toll, in which I asked my mom, "Hey, where' we goin'?"

"Bukit Jalil-la, where else?" she promptly replied.

"But isn't it at BSN?"

SMACK.
As expected, much screaming, apologizing, bargaining, apologizing, and pain ensued.

Today was an oppresive day, on my part.

Come the moment my foot touches the grass of the fine BSN compound (which came, of course, after hours of being lost and endless trial-and-error of finding the location of this.....count to think of it pretty damn small stadium), moving over to the campsite whereby the House Decoration is being set up.

It was that moment, perhaps, when I was immediately informed that I was to do a presentation of the campsite later during the day.

*cough* Okay, no problem. Talking fast and nonsensically is my forte. Its in my blood.

Despite believing that piece of information, I found it hard to stop shaking when the judges came. Let's just say, with the context of my presentation (which involved the theme of "The Matrix"), to be explained to several middle-aged people, the experience left me a little bewildered.

It was, i believe, abit like trying to tell a kid a story that involves romance.
It's possible to get the kid to be interested in it, but you'll never know whether they get it, or that they just want to show that they get it, when they actually don't, or that they just scoff at the seemingly off-put idea.

We're all just children, arent we?

The House Decoration tumbled into bits and pieces after the judges left (shortly after), but it was all good.

Today, was a stressful day.

Then, oh boy, THEN it started to rain.

It started first as a joke; a cheeky gesture perhaps.

"Maybe if we sing, it'll start to rain!" Somebody had mentioned.

Idiot.

They did. And it did.

And it came down like the swift hand of confusion. People running in and out of the compound, equipment being dragged haplessly along for miles on end, children running across the bogged field, lightning coming down on occassion.

Damn. It was so cool!

Thus, the evening was spent inside the compound, sitting around and joking my friends, new and old, all the while listening to the rumble of the storm and confusion outside. It was cool.

Had to run back out a coupla times though, to help bring people in, to check equipment, and to help a fellow drenched buddy locate her belongings.

It's pandemonium!

Today, was friggin crazy.

At the end of it all, I found myself exhausted. But still eager for more, of course.
But alas, as all things go, no more running around in the rain for me. At least, not for anytime soon.

Today, was a pretty good day.

With that, I leave you, myself accompanied by a slight case of the sniffles and a cup full of coffee, to look upon your day and ask yourself:

Was my day that friggin good?

I hope your answer to meet your expectations.

Good night, and sweet dreams.

(Listening to :- Sympathy for the Devil - Guns N Roses)

Amplitude.

2005-04-13T08:07:00.000-07:00

My god.

I think I'm growing old.

With that out of the way, I'll move to other things. Ahem.

Today was Sports Rehearsal, which as with other years, comes coupled together with the annual inter-house cheerleading competition.

Now, I'm not at all comfortable at watching a parade of girls on stage strut their stuff with remarkably short skirts and whimsically designed outfits (although I do admit, some of them were actually pretty damn wicked), but I'm all in for the house-spirit side of things, so I went down there and screamed my lungs off along with numerous other wild folks with an appetite for beat-down trance music.

I admit, despite being a cynically-inclined bastard that I am, I found myself overwhelmed with pressure as the representatives of my house stepped up to the plate.

It's a marvelously taxing feeling, watching a group of people you push the drive into give their all and reap the rewards. Similar, I suppose, to the feeling of parenthood.

Parenthood? What am I saying?

Anyway, the Seladang cheerleading team, I felt, were really good in what they do, despite the lack of initial crowd participation and all that. I suppose nobody wanted to feel stupid being the only one screaming out successive chants and cheers, so I figured what the heck, you live only once.

And I found myself the only person screaming the first line out of a really long chant. Well, hot damn.

At ends, however, they managed to snatch first prize, even managing to beat the score of the top cheras house, which was, actually, pretty boring.

To tell you the truth, the majority of the houses out there pulled out generic and boring routines, which didnt really catch on fire as I suppose they hoped for.

The Damansara Harimau house, however, I thought, deserved much better.

Anyway, I remain biased, and will go on to say the Seladang pulled off an awesome job, even going to the extent to downsize the booty shaking (oh I am a happy camper indeed). Wicked, completely wicked, it was. And I immensely enjoyed hollering for it.

Moving on, the rest of the day was pretty good, with certain occurences that didnt maintain a good future to look to.

But I guess, that's the way the world turns.

An eerie feeling I had, just a few hours ago. Somewhere between evening and night, when the sky faded into the gorgeous shade of bluish-purple you are never quite able to see, I forgot, for the first time in a long time, who I was.

I was, I suppose, in the state between waking and dreaming, when I stumbled off the chair in which I fell asleep in, listening to a cd in which now I can't quite remember.

I remember, I think, scrambling slowly to the mirror, for a purpose I no longer remember. Wash my face, maybe? Or to check the reds of my eyes? I don't know.

And when I finally caught the glimpse of myself, sweating profusely due to the lack of insulation, I found myself particularly shocked, looking into the eyes of a stranger.

Hah. Looking back on it, I can safely justify a matter that presses onto me for a long time now.

I'm not comfortable in my own skin.

And with that, along with the beeping on my clock and the night almost at end, I leave you to find shelter in my little shack built on dreams.

Good night, I bid you.

Pleasant memories.

(Listening to :- Matchbox Twenty - Disease)

Of flying, food, and inconsistent emotions.

2005-04-11T06:21:00.000-07:00

Word of wise.

A lot can happen in the space of 3 days; things that can leave you either with more than what you started off with, or with less that you would have wished for.

So, with that in mind, let me share a little expose with what has been going on the past three days, in which I haven't posted.

First of all, big hype going around in school with the games carnival on and all. Seladang, the house in which I faithfully represent, continues its tradition of being the underdogs and your typical average shove-around team.

A guilty pleasure of mine: I love being the underdog.

Somehow, being a champion and the toughest and all doesn't quite fit in with me, which is entirely plausible due to my less-than-manly physique. How that relates, don't ask me. I'm just here to rant.

So, anyway, Saturday was a day held most interesting. For the first time in my life, I played rugby. Which was, actually, very fun, albeit extremely tiring, and serves as a remarkable exercise in humility and excrutiating pain.

Having Hsien Loong, one of the most prominent athletes in the school, and Affendi, one of the largest people you'll ever meet, shove, ram and tackle you repeatedly in the space of 20 minutes is an experience very similar to hugging a charging bull or possibly embracing a high-velocity train.

It's painful.
It's sweaty.
It's pointless.

There was a point, i think, in which I was rammed into really hard, and flew.
Flying, floating, whatever. Fact of the matter is, my feet left the ground, and all I remembered was watching the ground turn to sky as sound grew prominently absent in my ears.

It was scary. It was painful.
But I loved it.

Perhaps, by such circumstance, I have developed a sort of liking for pain.
I shudder to think of it. Such a perverse pleasure, it seems to be.

Anyway, I left the cheras grounds on saturday battered, bruised, possibly concussed, and elated. We snagged a good win; although it came to me as one of the most tense moments of waking memory, especially when the sudden death play came about.

It was like a movie.

Damn, that gave me an idea.

Moving on, today turned out to be a totally different scenario.
I injured my wrist playing softball, in which we promptly lost twice, and it was a very excrutiating pain indeed. Possibly, as all things turn out to be, everything might fall into place prior to this day, but it is no matter, whether it does or does not.

Frankly, I don't care if things turn out all right.
As long as I've got something to fight for, I'm pretty damn happy. And if I do achieve what I'm working for, yea; that's great. But I'm too used to this; working hard to fight back and all that jazz.

Sorry, I'm not good with these kind of issues. It's too Rocky Balboa for me.

However, I do like to state this: I'm horrible at absorbing losses. And, in a complete turn of irony, I'm not too keen on winning sometimes.

Now, moving on to the second issue: Cooking.
Yours truly has attempted to pick up the art of cooking.

It has been, for many years, a quiet passion of mine to watch people cook, or TV shows that involve cooking, or perhaps anything related to consumable products (not including preserved and perverse products), but I have never actually gone about doing it.

I failed, however, to produce a near-palatable dish of fried rice.
I succeeded, however, to produce a wonderful plate of meatballs.

Dammit, I'm on a roll baby.

Perhaps, in the far future, should I somehow deter from my pursuit of stardom in the field of literature, movies, design, or whatever I wish to pursue, you could find me opening a restaurant.

Provided, of course, I practice.

And I will.

So tonight, I leave you with a little piece of me, which is much more than I have given anybody. And I thank you for taking the time to read this.

Pleasant dreams.

(Listening to :- Jamie Cullum - I could've danced all night)

I'm worrrking...

2005-04-07T04:47:00.000-07:00

It's 5 to eight, sweat's beading on my forehead, music's lowly pumping on the subwoofer, and my fingers have been twisted into knots from typing endlessly.

I'm in a good mood this evening, an unexpected surge of adrenaline that comes across as odd in the wake of a particularly tense day.

I have good reason for this, too, I think.

It hit me when I was asleep in the car, on the way home from school.

I love car rides. To me, its more than a moment of 'in-between' in the course of travel, but more as an opportunity to think, to reflect if necessary. Most of my cheering up and little bursts of deceitful clarity happens on the car seat, watching the clouds pass me by.

Anyway, today marks something that hasn't happened in a long time.
I was struck by inspiration, and the will to write.

It has always been a habit of mine to sit down and compose something; be it a doodle or a small passage or a small bar of song, but as of late, I found myself in a bit of a block, a mental lapse, if you will.

During that period of time, I was under tremendous pressure and perhaps my imagination went into hibernation. It wasn't a good time, for I found myself contantly irritated by this.

But when this happened, when my finger struck the first key on the keyboard, damn.

That felt GOOD.

But what caused this? What spurred this inspiration onto me?

What was my muse?
I'm am unsure.

However, I will try to find it, wherever it is.
So, whatever or whoever you are, if you are reading this, come! I want to see you! Make me feel alive!

And with that, I leave you for tonight. To your wishes, and to your dreams.

Have a pleasant evening.

(Listening to :- Queen + David Bowie - Under Pressure)

Renovation....

2005-04-06T04:32:00.000-07:00

Got back from school today and tried to learn the design of this blog site.

Progress is slow, and duly hopeless.

Ended up refreshing the whole place from scratch.

Hmmm....
Perhaps I shouldn't be touching such things.

Hmmm...

(Listening to:- Badly Drawn Boy - Something to talk About)

Dreaming.

2005-04-05T02:42:00.001-07:00

Last night I had the strangest dream.

It wasn't something odd, in particular, nor frightening in the smallest of ways. It was just, in retrospect, rather odd.

I dreamt of a conversation with myself; one in which I got pissed off at even my own self.

Goodness. It's one thing when one is capable enough to piss off just about anybody you can meet, but yourself?

....

Geezus.

Well, I guess an efficient conclusion can be drawn out of this.

Perhaps, and just perhaps...

I don't quite like myself.

But that doesn't scare me. What does is the fact that this wasn't the first time I had this dream.

Ta.

(Listening to :- Peter Gabriel - I grieve)

Hmm...

2005-04-04T07:13:00.000-07:00

Well, I've come to a decision on how this blog will serve me.

Among the past few weeks, (three months, i think), i have pondered on how I'm going to use this blog to my benefit. For I am, unfortunately, a soulless evil dude who enjoys nothing more than watching other peopel suffer.

Hold on. What did I say?

I said nothing.

Anyway, I've decided to use this place for my journal in my journey to achieve stardom in creative writing. Hmm hmm.

Life waits for me, hmm hmm.

Thus, not only does this place serve as, uhm, a litterbox of daily(actually, weekly?) events, but as my spot to spill out thoughts and little bits and pieces of my writing.

Sometimes I need to reminded of what I'm doing.

Hopefully this blog can help do that. ^_^

Anyhoo, I'm off to sail my boat now. Ta.

(Listening to :- Pat Metheny - "Bright Size Life")

Hm. Very wet.

2005-04-03T07:36:00.000-07:00

Rain's hitting my window very very hard.
The skies dark and thunder clashes against air with friction like dynamite.

I love this ^_^.

Anyway, just a special mention today, nothing big.

Ken's in love!
^______________^
I'm so proud. Head on over:

http://k-memories.blogspot.com

I think it's wonderful when these things happen to close friends, especially such if its a rarity.

(with others that frequent these things, it kinda gets boring)

Well, all the best wishes ken, if you're reading this. If you need cash on loan, come see me. But I charge a high interest rate. I'm not a wealthy person, you know.

(Listening to :- Oasis - Wonderwall)

Wings shall spread.

2005-03-10T06:55:00.000-08:00

I'm taking a deep breath.

I'm scared.

I'm petrified.

I'm terrified to the bottom of my soul.

I'm going to fly. On a plane.

If someone should ask, "Name me five things you fear most?", I'd reply with a smile, and tell that someone five is not necessary, for I only fear three things.

1.Death.
2.Flying.

Though I do not know the actual reason, I had never actually feared sitting in aeroplanes. As a child I often saw it as just another medium in which I would sit quietly and be bored for long intervals, as well as a perfectly good reason to enjoy in-flight movies by myself.

Perhaps, it was that I had developed a sense to fear. I used to be, or maybe I still am, a very fearful person. From insects, to pain, to failure, to darkness, I supposed I'm the perfect example of a zombie child. I just sat there, and feared everything unfamiliar and terrifying in retrospect.

Perhaps, as I grew, I had learnt how to deal with these fears. Although now I still do squeal at the sight of a cockroach(for shame, for shame), I do that with less fear, but more, uhm, shock. I can say confidently now, without a glimpse of hesitation, that I am a brave person.

But flying. Sitting on a plane. That, I cannot deal with. That I cannot, and probably will not, fit it into something I would treat as a normal event. I fear take-offs, I fear turbulence, and I fear landing. But as contradictory as it sounds, some moments during the flight, I find myself loving this new......predicament. The fact that I am neither here nor there (hence, 'in-between'), and I won't be for another what, six or seven hours? That's pretty cool, I must admit.

And with that, I leave you. I shall be off now, to bed and eventually to the airport, where I will board a plane to Melbourne. And when my heartbeat begins to pick up as the plane begins to taxi, I'll probably be the only person in the flight muttering audibly to God. If you're on that same flight, please accept my apology.

Good night.

Oh, and the third thing I fear most would have to be:
3. Mr. Sheat. And his Chemistry.

(Listening to : Feeder - Tumble and Fall)

And I scream of a thousand hamsters.

2005-03-05T06:30:00.000-08:00

It's late. Football on tv is becoming abit boring at this point (Aston Villa up 2 over Boro), and the air's too cold. The sky outside is dark, bleak and soulless, and i don't feel too sociable on MSN. It's one of those nights.

You know that feeling, the one where you feel like you should be doing something, like everyone else, but can't seem to go about doing it? Or the one where, you feel like the time you have is so damn little, and that things just won't go your way?

This, I think, or an amalgamation of this, might just be a little bit like what Death feels like.

So with this glass of ice in hand, and nothing else to do, I think I'll sit down and watch tv.

Because, maybe, life waits for me tomorrow.

Of First and Foremosts..

2005-02-24T19:10:00.000-08:00

So here I sit, in the wake of my computer gazing at this....child that sits before me. This....blog.

I've never blogged before, nor have I ever intended to. I suppose I'm here because I'm somewhat inspired by a blog of a friend of mine's, which of course, all reading this should visit.

(http://liverwin.blogspot.com) (Go go go!)

As this being my first post, I wonder what I do with this site, and how I can integrate it into my increasingly hectic schedule. Well, let's just see how it turns out, and if I'm lucky, I'd be getting an audience consistent enough to read about crap that goes on in my life.

With that, I bid you welcome. To my little world behind your mirror.