etcetera

good mistakes and bad decisions

2012-02-07T12:15:00.002+08:00

sometimes, i like to look back on the things i've said and done, and pick out the terrible mishaps that have taken shape. more often than not, they're result of my own doings, but once in a while i think i can pin it on karma or just the universe pms'ing for no particular reason. in any case, sometimes i see these mistakes far ahead of time, even before they've taken place. like a raccoon or some wild animal blinking into the headlights of an oncoming truck, knowing that becoming roadkill is just a long honk away. these are the times when you get to prepare well and brace yourselves for the impact of said decision (or similar whim). kind of like how palliative care for cancer patients doesn't cure the disease (or even alleviate the pain, sometimes), but you run through the motions anyway, in hopes of divine intervention.

sometimes you never see it coming, and even in retrospect, you think to yourself (at least i do), 'wow, did that actually happen? did something go wrong somewhere? because i still have an image in my mind's eye that everything's just fine'. it's these times, which, unfortunately aren't all that rare, that i realise that you can't really expect it to have been any different. how could you expect life not to throw you the odd curveball (against your favour, of course), if you expect things such as serendipity and (un)holy guidance? no, it is very unfortunate that with the sugar, must come the salt; with the optimus primes, the megatrons; with the mercuries, the biebers; with the gandalfs, the edwards. and so, though i may not learn to accept these mistakes, i will have to live and let slide all the silly mistakes.

maybe, one day, when all is set, i will be able to look back and think that all of it was just a dream, and nightmares cannot hurt you anyway.

flight of the last pegasus

2012-02-04T13:37:00.002+08:00

this piece took me a lot longer than it usually takes me to write. It had been swirling in the primordial soup of contemplation for weeks (months, now) and every time I’d tried to jot something down, I would end up trashing it and starting from scratch. So, for the umpteenth try, here I go, and I hope it finally does the effort justice:

gallop,
gallop,
stay your wings,
feathers folded, tucked and stored;
faster, faster, gather speed,
into this run your heart is poured.

racket, rumpus, clamorous din,
glory-hunters preach your sin;
silence is but all you hear,
a heartbeat conceals overt fear.

the forest clears into a plains,
now seen, their heckles scream disdains;
shots fired, shots fired! whizzing by,
stead your eyes upon the sky.

give chase still, these wretched beasts,
to make your flesh a morbid feast;
and flay the skin upon your bones,
then take that too, for ivory thrones.

thus makes you pray unuttered words,
come images of dying herds;
not stallion, colt, or mare was spared,
those lives, those hearts, those souls were bared.

with this thought strength rises anew,
empowers blood, strengthens sinew;
so faster,
faster,
faster still,
until your grit is at last will,
and body’s form behest mind’s screams,
though break apart it at its seams.

a reverie now takes its hold,
make timid equine souls be bold;
that angels’ wings may come unfold,
and speak of destinies untold;
which harsh winds grasp but cannot hold,
as released free to sunset gold,
so night may come at hours untold,
and bring within a deathly cold.

before a blink has taken place,
and solace spelled upon your face;
comes gravity to pull you down,
reality back in its place.

but steady,
steady,
steady beat,
this breeze will carry one last feat;
cross a ravine, down rolling hills,
the mob gives chase still for its thrills.

but how could they keep up this chase?
of last affronts and lost efface?
as shadows cast farther from you,
the ground takes on a lifeless hue.

for all the green and yellow grass,
is tasteless now, and seems so crass;
in moments all that’s left is blue,
beyond and yonder, clear and true.

so weightless this corporeal form,
that keeps through twilight ‘ternal warm,
and long is lost the lust to feed,
desire sustains the lonely steed.

across the ocean’s mirrored waves,
cast shadows slight, like sneaking knaves;
past when dusk ends, and twilight sleeps,
when moon and stars do play for keeps.

infernal hours thence pass by,
despondence makes a shrill-pitched neigh;
of heart, of soul, of mind is won,
symbolised by an orange dawn.

not unlike ballads ill-rehearsed,
where takes you, erst, my pegasus?
bid spoken fallacies unknown,
please make this life, this love, your own.

* * * * *

but tricksy, all these affairs are,
your mind has carried you too far,
moreso than body ever could, a soiled, deformed and sullied mar;
a blazing light of white and red,
has filled your eyes, and then your head,
before your flight had taken place, that meadow was to be your bed.

in actuality, a twist!, a sordid, somber, fleeting lie, that escape was never to be, for all earthly things come to die;
oh dear, my pegasus, how wrong, this world has treated you – don’t cry – but rest now all your heavy heart, and bid this cold, cruel being goodbye.

i'm meltinggggg

2012-01-29T22:31:00.003+08:00

i asked them, all the pallid pales,
the polar bears and great blue whales;
of how they managed to beat waves,
of heat, of sun, of kings and knaves.

they said, you have pragmatic be,
with air-conds on till shaketh knee;
or hop a public transport when,
it costs all but a dollar ten.

alternatively, said the whale, you could,
swim in the sea just like any whale should;
but, proper, the rhinoceros said,
think with your nose, not with your head!

and sit (or sleep) in library,
it's cold and nice and so very;
sophisticated, you won't grow old,
just maybe tired and slightly cold.

i think the moral of all this, is take the day off, take a treat;
and blast that a/c to the max in an attempt to beat the heat!

i don't normally give a commentary or summary on my own poems (there being a conflict of interest that i would rather people interpret it themselves; not that anyone does), but i feel it pressing to at least mention that this one is because this summer is so frscking hot. 45C hot. and dry. the animal symbolisms are of friends. and now, i sleep -_-

spinjury

2012-01-23T15:31:00.002+08:00

what is a sports injury.

you can't expect to play a contact sport and never have an injury. it's like wanting to sunbathe but not think of skin cancer as a potential consequence. it's like eating meat all day every day and not expecting to get colon cancer somewhere down the line. it's like telling your best friend she's amazing every morning and not expecting her to fall for you. it's like pirating intellectual property over the internet and not being worried of governments clamping down on online privacy. excessively.

and so, it happened last week, though not at an inopportune time (i believe in double negatives). the field was not very flat, and my skills (or lack thereof) are not very admirable, so when my friend clipped me ever-so-slightly as i was running with the football, i fell awkwardly and sprained my ankle. aside from the initial groaning in agony and not being able to walk for a good half hour, i cannot say this is anything anyone hasn't experienced. it was not life-shatteringly painful and i was up and about in an hour or so. the pain and swelling was worse come nightfall, and even moreso the next morning, but this was all to be expected. full recovery in a week? i would imagine so.

i would like to point out my friend's reaction at having injured me, though. amidst the jeering and calls for 'fake injury' (damn you, van persie), my friend who clipped me was thoroughly apologetic and extremely (if not excessively) worried about it. i think, i wouldn't mind everyone having the odd spinjury that good sportsmanship and fairplay come to the foreground. that being said, maybe i just haven't seen how bad things can get, and all the persons maimed and scarred for life would beg to differ. so, speaking for myself here, i'd like to (over-the-internet-anonimously) thank my friend for being such a good chap about it all. even though you did out of desperation knowing full well that i owned you like a boss. and that i will surely find the perfect opportunity. when you are dribbling like a legend. goalbound and already victorious. to slide you with a tackle from the worst angle.

and.

break.

your.

bones.

play me chopin.

2012-01-05T15:33:00.003+08:00

http://www.smbc-comics.com/index.php?db=comics&id=2454#comic

this is how i feel about persons of the opposite sex on most days.

walking death

2012-01-05T08:59:00.003+08:00

today i woke up with the most beautiful images of my life flashing through my head. it was forced, raw, primal and awkward; but it made me happy for that fleeting moment before my brain comprehended that all was but a dream. or what similarity dreams have with thoughts, in that they were purposeful, not random.

then i sat in bed, and thought of this (and this is right now, at this moment). i realise something so beautiful (this collection of memories, much like a slideshow) was actually cold and uncouth and ultimately ugly, because they were mostly not of my life - but my recent life, spent dwelling and contemplating of a future so uncertain, that i had forgotten the beauty of prior years. truly, if all is lost, then i have these years to blame.

much like every morning, i check my mail and between the mundane and bothersome ones, there is one of (but not from) the dream of my life. this must be a (if not the) root of evil, which makes me realise that i am not happy because of all these beautiful images, but i am just apathetic - the images were only because i have finally witnessed the final moments of my lived life. i am dead.

i wish i literally was. every day.

unintentional hipster

2012-01-02T09:46:00.003+08:00

i thought writing love letters would be my thing. in an age where writing letters is obsolete and decadent, when wordplay is only for dusty old books and forgotten scripture. i thought i had found my little niche in love and romance, where whomever received my little attempts at love letter or notes would be transported to an era before television and fast cars; somewhere victorian and quaint, if not in time then in space. i thought this made me unique, or at least memorable, what with the lack of standing out that i already possess.

however, this is not to be, as i find that writing love letter is very much alive and well, and the extent to which i do it is nowhere nearly as powerful or compelling as what i hope it would be. rose-tinted glasses are often the most dangerous, but i had no idea they were also the most embarrassing.

and to find out that any one person, especially one whom those love letters were intended for, had received so many letters before mine... this dilutes, grays and even abolishes any notion of romanticism attached to them. fool! but it is okay, as this is hopefully not the rule of thumb (or pen), and as soon as another fermina passes, i will be one statistical datum less uninteresting, which makes love letters (hopefully) a rarity, again. or, for the first time. maybe this is a new coming of phase, and i am already spearheading it? i am such a hipster, oh dear god, what have i done?

happy new year

2012-01-02T08:08:00.001+08:00

from the future!

even though this post is late.

somehow, everything just feels the same.

i wonder what lies in wait?

stay, thee, heart

2011-12-19T16:32:00.002+08:00

stay, thee, heart and bleed no more,
for dearth of blood and hurt from yore;
dost thou not feel, nor trow, nor think? but last in lust for nevermore?

hush, now, heart - in silence sing,
a solemn hymn for spurned love's sting;
canst thee hope for 'ternal calm? and harbour gifts for futures bring?

cometh soul, 'fore cometh meet,
hast thy none of thine heart's beat?
nary strength nor devout veil, left with sickly sorrow sweet.

plead, thee, heart for death's embrace,
cold wit of thine lover's face;
but fleeting, fleeting, this faint feel is but all gone with too much haste.

beseech, heart, of what is true,
oft rued decisions misconstrue;
shalt thou remain along thy course, or seek another heart anew?

so tarry here no longer, heart, it pains me much to hear thy beat,
though i ask much of thee today, prithee we should soon again meet;
but should it not that thou hast love, perchance thy hath of hope and calm,
know now i clutch thee at breast's breadth, and keep thee farthest 'way from harm.
stay, thee, heart;
stay, thee, heart;
stay, thee, infernal mine will,
stay, thee, heart;
stay, thee still;
mayhap wish for 'nother chill.

my first contact with contacts

2011-12-18T03:51:00.000+08:00

Putting the contacts in was quite the ordeal. If I recall correctly from first year anatomy, the conjunctiva of the eye is supplied by the ophthalmic branch of the trigeminal nerve, which provides sensory innervation to he brainstem, where the reflex arc connects to the motor nerves of the orbicularis occuli via the facial nerve (mixed from the temporal and zygomatic branches). In layman’s terms, anything touching the conjunctiva causes a reflex to close your eyes. Which is basically what happened every time I tried to pop the contacts in.

Needless to say, my eyes were sore, red and watery. After a half hour endeavour, finally one contact was in. and I can happily say that I can see nearly as well as I can with glasses. That’s quite impressive, and should prove useful when I play football or basketball in the future.

I’m not really looking forward to tonight, though, when I have to remove them…

shopping for chocolate

2011-12-18T03:48:00.002+08:00

When you go into a store – it doesn’t really matter what kind – and you look for something to buy, there’s always a series of complex and pressing questions that you ask yourself. Sometimes this process is elaborate and well thought out, whereas other times the process can be trivialised.

Let’s take an example: say you’ve just walked into a world class chocolatier. I use this example because I have a direly sweet tooth and chocolate is always a safe bet when trying to find something that everyone can relate to. So, you’ve just walked into this state-of-the art confectionery. There is an unlimited variety of chocolates to choose from; all your favourite colours and flavours, sizes and shapes, smells and ingredients. Everything your mind can fathom and more. As always, there’s going to be some chocolates that you wouldn’t dare try – maybe durian chocolate, or 86% pure dark, or giant fire-ant coated chocolate, or wasabi-infused chocolate. Some may be chocolates you might try on a daring day, but you may not normally choose, and others might be chocolates that you find mundane and too bland (but note that without the tasteless and generic, there cannot be the exceptional).

Of course, strolling through the aisles, left unattended or bothered by salespersons and other patrons, your mind wanders and contemplates – this chocolate is too expensive, this chocolate seems too sweet, this chocolate smells funny and this chocolate melts too soon (although in the lattermost case, I cannot believe any good chocolate melts too soon). Given an infinite amount of time, you are bound to come across the perfect chocolate, or at least a handful of the most perfect chocolates (perfect here being personal and subjective). But, as with all life’s dilemmas, you do not have an unlimited amount of time. Time is pressing. The chocolatier may be closing, or your ride may be leaving soon. Maybe you have a prior engagement or maybe the world is ending. Whatever the case, you only have so much time, and for complexity’s sake, let us assume that you do not exactly know when you have to leave – only a rough idea.

Now, say you really want to purchase at least one chocolate. Just one, to make it simple. All these considerations come to mind. But, say you haven’t made the purchase and have to leave for any of the abovesaid reasons (or other, that is fine, too). You will be left wanting, and on your way out of the store, wondering; ‘Maybe I should have taken that chocolate because it was not too pricey? Maybe I should have taken the other because it was perfectly delicious? Maybe I should have taken yet another because of random reason #293?’

Whatever the reason might have been, you have left, never to return. And you are empty-handed with no chocolate to savour or brag about. Nothing, in effect, besides your cold, hard, conscience. That, and the burning questions in your head, that you will continue to ask yourself, and extrapolate upon.

Are you going to buy that chocolate now, or not?

p/s: been away for a couple of weeks and will continue to be for another few. hence, the typing entries out on word and copypasta-ing to blogger whenever i can. note the capitalisation where i normally would not. in any case, be back when i can. also, incoming chunk of entries very sporadically

birds of paradise

2011-12-10T09:35:00.004+08:00

pink galahs and cockatoos, with yellow, recursive crests,
kookaburras and emus, and lorakeets with bright red breasts;
rosellas with a dainty gait, ones which are playful all the time,
black swans from perth and weird parrots that sometimes sing and sometimes rhyme.

an eastern rosella

kookaburra

an emu. they're actually not nice at all

cockatoos. these are amazing

and galahs are just as much

i find it funny enough, though, the most pretty bird of them all,
is not of wing or avian, and if sought flight would surely fall;
and though not fallen, has fallen true, i feel this bird can't fall for you,
so molt now and grow rainbow plumes, that i may heed your beck and call.

and au contraire it seems to me, that bird may sing a sorrow song,
till wind beneath your wings you find, i let you go for now - so long!

seconds of silence

2011-12-05T16:30:00.002+08:00

for the past week, i have been living alone in an apartment for three. two of my housemates had gone home to work and get engaged, respectively, and it was an unfortunate situation that i could not attend the latter. on a side note, i should point out that it was a very auspicious occasion, and there was much pomp and rejoicing to be had. i'm sure this comes as a norm and expectancy to you, but in a culture where engagement is a very personal event (usually observed only by the mate, bride-to-be, and their immediate families), i was quite surprised to see photos up on facebook of his engagement event where it was very much like a small-scale, but elaborate wedding. kudos and hearts to the engaged couple, but let us not tarry on that, lest i divulge information not mine to talk about in the first place.

staying home alone has been something i have been familiar with for some time, and, to be honest, something i very much miss at times. one easily pipes in to say 'aha, but you say that now, because you only see things through rose-tinted glasses', and i won't argue with this. there have been perks and shortcomings, pros and caveats of living alone. however, at the end of the day, i think i very much prefer it to living with others, especially many others. don't get me wrong here, i think i get along fairly well with people in general, but there's something to be desired when you come home from work (or studies, or play, or whatever you do that makes you weary), only to have to engage with the social contract (refer to gregory house on this one). again, do not be dissuaded into believing that i am antisocial for any reason, but sometimes you just want to come home to silence and a little bit of emptiness.

i've had much time to catch up on many things - job applications (no, i do not have a job yet, and this makes me a particularly sad panda), reading some novels (yes i am still on the same reading list for a year), gaming (got back into gaming, and it's a full time job for a bum. serious business, mind you), and lazing around.

however, as much as i enjoy it, i do welcome my housemates back (for now); at least the one person who has arrived yesterday, qurrosh failscream. i don't doubt i will longingly miss my time alone soon, when everyone has returned from wherever they are, my housemates and random family and friends, included. but till then, going to catch up on my series (oh, yes, i am watching house, glee and friday night lights right now), and not miss the fact that i have to consider other persons' wanting to do this or that at any point (not that i have, prior to this; and not that my housemates are awesome enough to not care for what i do anyway!)

letters to santa

2011-11-27T16:16:00.003+08:00

yesterday, i wrote my first love letter. it was passionate, and obfuscate, and awkward, and puzzling, even to me. when i wanted to mail it, the cashier and post office attendant was being quite the nuisance, though. she insisted that i use some fancy air mail stamp because 'this stamp has the "mail" word on it'. i thought to myself, 'really?' the letters that i had come with, that i normally carry in my wallet were some ruddy old teddybear stamps, though i imagine that can hardly be dismissed as legitimate postage stamps. as for the ones she offered, i have no idea why they would be superior in any way. forgive me, for i do not understand the complexities of sending a letter, something that i used to do every weekend but do no longer because, who really uses snail mail. however, the last time i did, it was fairly straightforward - just use the correct amount of postage paid (and in this case i used $1.80 in stead of the required $1.65).

interestingly enough, counting my shillings as i stood in front of her, only to realise that i had not enough, i offered to pay using card (i actually had some notes in my wallet, but really, i don't like carrying around coins). she quickly said, no, that's fine, just use my stamps anyway. contradiction, much? in any case, if my letter arrives, i curse you for being a pain; and if it doesn't arrive, i curse you for being so dismissive. since when did post-office attendants become little napoleons. oh, i should note the demeanour in which she handled the conversation was... lacklustre.

having gone through that, which i don't really mind, except for the fact that now i worry whether my letter will arrive or not (love letters are serious business), i was now ready to finally pop my letter in the mailbox. it's quite cute that there was a dedicated mailbox outside (madeshift from a red cardboard box) just adjacent to the permanent mailbox upon which is written in capitals, 'LETTERS TO SANTA'. i am not sure where these letters end up, but, i write now another love letter, in hopes that santa is actually a sexy, blonde and blue-eyed woman from scandanavia who lives just north enough of the arctic circle to warrant the name 'santa', but at the extrme-most south to warrant living where it's not dark all winter long (though i now concede that this may be geographically impossible). one never knows, that should (s)he reply, i may want to move in, and the aurora borealis will never look prettier.

lovingly for santa,

etc.

my new favourite thing

2011-11-21T20:13:00.002+08:00

500g of oven-baked french fries (or freedom fries, for the american anti-terrorist)
one cup sour cream
thickly sliced cheddar cheese
home-made guacamole and salsa-sauce (avocados, tomatoes, salt, water and peppers)
thai chilli sauce
a dash of salt
a dash of pepper

mixed and microwaved for 30s.

voila, hey presto!

either it was epic or i was really hungry. in either case, i am now full and this warrants making again another day!

most wicked

2011-11-08T14:23:00.008+08:00

i do not care for silly hats, tiaras made of gold,
i do not care for pumpkins, mice, or ball gowns (new and old);
and never cared for handsome princes (god, i hate them most),
what's probably worse are crystal shoes! and wearers oft who boast.

and really who keeps mirrors now? even those that in tongues speak,
for all i want to hear is how i'm prettier than child, so weak;
and even then it would serve best to whisk away, let dwarves apart,
than have a hunter sin behest, then lie instead with foul boar's heart!

woe is me yet, i can't tell lies, like roses red for my safe keep,
for 'ternal beauty one's soul vies, and this is source enough to weep;
take steady aim! release your shot, and pierce this wretched, beastly heart,
you see skin deep a slyly plot, it matters not, death does me part.

i'd be surprised, if you still cared for women's rights in france,
do you still think we live backwards, in dark ages, perchance?
and do not think i care the least for golden flawless hair,
(but, heavens, it's so silky smooth, it would make a fine stair).

i do care, though (you'd be surprised) of 'chanted spinning looms,
they fill my heart with so much dread, of demise and of dooms;
but thwarted (yet again, curses!) by one true love's first kiss,
my plan, it was so perfect so, i wonder what i missed?

and sometimes i do love to frolic with souls of the damned,
so that i may enact out all the nasties i have planned;
i could not care less for green frogs, or toads, or of the sort,
though french-prepared frogs legs are nice (i kill them 'times for sport).

i sometimes care for cooling breeze, though not for colours of the wind,
but who can care for dainty child, especially those who have erst sinned?
but maybe it will be alright, if left to stand there hand in hand,
behind them all i plot to take, their gold, buffalo, wives and land.

i notice sometimes, in the night, when tigers eyes' are shining bright,
a desert rose, or diamond rough, that in the darkness then takes flight;
but give up power, gold and love, i cannot do this for my health,
and envy still a beggar's luck, a sultan's will, a daughter's wealth.

i cared not for the longest while, of sickly sorrow sweet,
voices of an angel though at expense of one's feet;
thus vanity, oh, vanity, so pointless to impress,
for what? for men? for dainty forks? to wear a pretty dress?

a fighting spirit, now that is cause for someone to envy,
i'd say i care, but, no, i don't, i'm just not that savvy;
but stab me through the heart and find gender is no import,
reflections of cherry blossoms in a river for sport!

and lastly curse my aching back, i could not feel a thing,
and yet those supple children feel a pea of a sapling;
how could this be fair, one must ask, in light of all that's right,
i will not care, i cannot care, i shan't with greatest might!

and so my sisters, up in arms! your call has come to fight!
who dares shun and belittle our solemn, slightly plight?
a curse on them, a doom on them, a hex of dark voodoo!
beware young child, your time is nigh, we're out in search of you!

*written on behalf of all the wicked witches, horrible stepmothers, ghouls and ghosts and scheming antagonists. for all the knifing, backstabbing, treacherous knaves, this one is for you*

dikhabarkan

2011-10-24T21:06:00.002+08:00

i've been told many things. i've been told that man cannot fathom the vastness of space, i've been told that there are lives at stake when one loses faith, i've been told that you cannot feel what another can face, and all and everything in between. i've also been told that i cannot write in a foreign language. i tried writing in (what little smattering of) french last week, and i found myself very much wanting. it has been an interesting experience, though - one that i intend to keep to myself because french is such a puzzling language! i cannot understand now how it can be so romantic, yet when i try for and towards such things, all i can see is eyesore. so, today, a little bit of malay:

dibuahkan hujan seribu bahasa,
mencari peniti melangkah jambatan;
dikhabarkan padaku seribu binasa,
biar padamu aku doakan.

janganlah dendangkan selamat tinggal,
lagu sumbang menyingkap sanubari;
dikhabarkan padaku benang sepintal,
membuat teman mengganti mentari.

mencari ratu sehingga syria,
biar terpaksa menerbangkan takhta;
mengenang hati dan mata si dia,
dikhabar lagi warnanya raksa.

janganlah khuatir tentang persoalan,
bermain di minda bermadah bicara;
khabarkan padaku buatmu sialan,
dalam hati ni sematkan segala.

khabarku padamu, padanya, padaNya; tiada erti coretanku lagi,
namun begitu dikhabarkan pula, tak pernah merasa pun hatiku ini.

going solo like a baws

2011-10-21T09:40:00.005+08:00

i wanted to post a list of the most awesome guitar solos of all time, but then i realised that my coverage of music is somewhat limited. instead, i'll post some of my favourite guitar solos (and some not-so-favourites, but just because they're awesome). i need to find some peeps with more varied musical inclinations so that i may sample better auditory hallucinations. only once you've drunk from the seas of rhye can you judge the bitterness of ambrosia!

10. thank you for the venom by my chemical romance
my chemical romance was one of those bands that defined my university years. don't get me wrong, nobody's being an emokid here (well, maybe a little bit), i just liked their music. past tense being the active word here. i still listen to 'three cheers for sweet revenge' and 'the black parade' on the occasion, but their latest album (of which i cannot even recall the title. edit: it's 'danger days') delivers mostly in disappointment. this solo is performed by ray toro.

9. knights of cydonia by muse
another cult popular band is the british trio, muse. at first, i must admit, i did not like muse. when my friends were going crazy over 'plug in baby', i thought their music to be too unrefined and raw. only later did i start liking this kind of music, and by that time, muse had moved on to more harmonious (if you can call this genre of music anything of the sort). check out the official clip, i love it - it's hilarious. and while you're at it, check the base on 'hysteria', which i've also included below. the solo is performed by matthew bellamy.
knights of cydonia because embedding has been disabled, boo.
hysteria, also because embedding has been gg'd.

8. monsters by matchbook romance
i've talked about this band before, and this song is exceptionally awesome. one of my all-time favourites. this solo is performed by ryan 'juda' depaolo
monsters: more disabled embedding.

7. talk shows on mute by incubus
no elaborations needed here. incubus is my second-most favourite band of all time. mike einziger rocks the guitar solo here like it's his little female dawg. their latest ablum, however, is lacklustre. but they always experiment with new stuff, and i'm willing to let this one slide, and keep waiting for the next album.

6. november rain by guns n' roses
for those who have never even listened to gnr, the name is still a hallmark of rock-idolatry, living in the fast lane, burning hard, lighting up, kickass music and flambouyant performances. axl rose is one of the most iconic frontmen of all time and they have this lead guitarist whose name, if i mention here will just burn through your monitor with awesomeness. it's slash. he does this (and many other solos) like a true guitar legend.

5. be yourself by audioslave
i guess that since were' down to the top 5 now, every guitarist i mention henceforth should be at least known to the masses. tom morello is no exception with his very technical and experimental riffs. i would talk about this superband in more detail, but we're only concerned with guitar solos today, so have at ye, tom morello!

4. stairway to heaven by led zeppelin
two words. jimmy. paige.

3. hotel california by eagles
eagles was a band that defined my father's 20's, and hence defined my childhood. back in the day, my dad would rock up some tequila sunrise on his vinyl with the turntable. my brother and i got used to changing the pinheads to make the sounds less distorted - we even had a couple of pins reserved for eagles. then my dad got cassettes and we listened to eagles every day after school. no doubt, we had memorised most of the greatest hits' lyrics (if not all). unfortunately, i cannot remember more than maybe half a dozen songs, now. less words. more listening. no particular person performs this solo, they do it as a group.

2. sweet child o' mine by guns n' roses (slash is such a baddas mofo)
because slash is such an epic guitarist, he made it twice into this list. initially i thought sweet child o' mine would be a most definite pick for my top spot, but after deliberating, i've got something else in store for you.

1. i believe in a thing called love by the darkness / don't stop me now by queen
i wanted to write something quite elaborate here. however, i think i've written too long and my time is short. you may have noticed this, as we progressed down the list, my paragraphs have shortened substantially. if not, then now you realise. anyway. it's a tie here between the darkness (3 solos in the same song! which are conducted by justin and dan hawkins, and frankie poullain); and my favourite band of all time, queen (whose solo is rocked up by brian may)

enjoy!

Fe2O3 like hell

2011-10-16T17:58:00.003+08:00

i was rummaging through some old files today to get rid of unwanted and outdated stuff on my (relatively new) computer. i found a huge pile of letters i was trying to send to fermina, but never had the guts to send. needless to say, i revisited them and broke down into a puddle of tears. well, not really, but that would be the sentimental thing to do, and in the stead that i cannot do that, i will write as if i did. a couple of things i forgot that i did were: 1) i wrote her ever day we were apart (and since we were just friends, this phrase is literal in the most platonic way, at least for her), and 2) wow, i was really blind back in the day.

here's a sample for half of you to go 'dawwwww' and the other half to laugh at. and maybe the other half to /facepalm.

i swore to love forever more,
for mountains high and chasms deep;
of stereotyped lines of four,
for heartless lovers oft to keep.

and swore again to love you still,
through aeons after death has died;
with nothing more than hardened will,
let unmet promises abide.

it still, was not to be enough,
of this, of you, i cannot blame;
like diamonds shining in the rough,
my own mistakes are my own shame.

of fault and fate, and ridicule,
from demons low, angels above;
for all to see i am a fool,
if for nothing more, than for love.

i lie prostrate in front of God,
and beg and pray he beckons come;
still now, i find this to be odd,
and weird, and tasteless, and then some.
how never would i wish for you,
if by this meant it would not be;
profound from hearts that speak so true,
instead forced unto you from me.

but how could i live not in pain?
and speak of wills that are lived free?
while preach to others naught in vain,
while in plain sight, i lie to see?
that in my stead you ‘ready chose,
a soul of bliss, eternal shines,
like maroon origami rose,
of his, of hers, of yours, of mines.

i cannot fib unto my own, and even moreso upon you;
so here i beg you claim this wish, and make this love at last come true.

such a dsck

2011-10-11T19:51:00.002+08:00

henry miller wrote that there are only three things you can do with a woman. you can love her, suffer for her, or turn her into literature. a lot of people interpret this as that to get over a woman, you pen her down, and drown her in pages of silent sorrow. i just interpret it as miller being a total dsckfaes. he has no idea what he's talking about. and neither do i.

in bloom

2011-10-01T19:15:00.003+08:00

a couple of weeks ago i travelled about 600km north of where i live, along with my parents, to enjoy some time away from the hustle and bustle of the big city. when i say big, i fail to mention that perth is just the right size of a city for my taste. possibly even slightly bigger than what i would prefer. but never you mind that.

in any case, the objective of the trip was to spend a few days away from it all (not really in the outback - still in a relatively acceptable slice of civilisation), and as per my father's wishes, view some rare australian wild flowers. now, it may seem mundane to most of us (i say 'us' because it's not my cup of tea to begin with), but apparently, these wild flowers don't bloom too often. once a year, in a window of a couple of weeks during the spring rains. i guess, for my father who had lived in australia for many years, this was something that brought back fond memories of his life here, and though i cannot say i could re-live his experiences, i am more than happy to accompany him on his vicarious pursuit of what is lost and stored at the back of his mind. in return, i hope that my children allow for the same; amidst bickering between the yet unnamed kids, and continual questions of 'are we there yet?', although i reckon that them not knowing this will make it entirely irrelevant.

so, we set out with a beggar's plight. dad, mom and i, accompanied by an aunt and cousin, on a sojourn of sort to see the various facades of the australian outback - from arid deserts to lush canyons (that sounds so counterintuitive, but there you have it), and most importantly to glimpse some desert flowers. i should remind myself here that the australian outback scene is very monotonous (and monochromatic). a red-brown hue as far as the eye can see, separated by a baby-blue sky by the horizon with nothing to see in miles. hence, even driving at speeds of 80 - 130 km/h, one can easily spot said flowers from a distance. the reds, oranges, whites and yellows stand out like phosphorescent fireflies on a calm, velvet night. which, if i may run off on a tangent, is eerily beautiful. i totally have this romantic setting in mind when it comes to fireflies in the night. except that it's usually accompanied by very humid and warm air, making me sweat and get slightly hot and bothered. although, that might be the whole agenda of setting up the frolicking with fireflies. oh yeah.

ahem. anyway, here's some pictures of flowers that we (might have) seen. i really cannot remember them all, and knowing me, i don't have any personal photos anyway.

p/s: god, not having written in ages makes me cringe when i read what i just wrote. so disorganised. deal with it.

you never say hello any more

2011-09-29T16:18:00.001+08:00

hello, there. i wish you would.

lethargy

2011-09-13T07:53:00.002+08:00

i seem to have not had the thought of blogging for some time now. i am quite surprised. old age may be kicking in, or i may just be changing like that keane song.

anyway, just a jumpstart here. nothing much. had a weird dream, someone drove a car into sydney bay, and i was in the passanger seat. woke up and met miley cyrus. seriously. i don't even like her (at all). but she was kinda cool in the dream, but that's a totally random thing...

also, just woke up so cannot brain much right now -_-. hopefully will get back to proper blogging in a while. toodles.

something that goes snicker snack, snicker snack

2011-08-11T11:40:00.006+08:00

first, we had american mc gee's alice. then we had alice: the movie. now, we have alice: madness returns.

congratulations to me for procrastinating, and instead of finding a job or finalising my phd applications, i took a week off, in which i completed multiple small projects (i.e. nothing much). however, i did manage to complete the newest installation to the 'alice' series on my friend's ps3. i'll try not to be as big a fanboi as i usually am about lewis carroll's stuff, and try to keep my post to a very short impression of the game. please bear in mind that this means that this piece will not review the game, instead will be my two cents' worth of an 'aye or nay':

the good:
- the game keeps true to its predecessor as well as lewis carroll's original (and this should count thrice because my expectations were exceedingly high).

- story-line is actually very immense and deep. in fact, one might even say it was too well constructed, such that some of my friends who watched me play (intermittently) needed speedy updates from time to time. the plot progresses well, and keeps you entertained, although one could predict the final villain. the twists and turns do make for very good red herrings, though, and i definitely was thrown off the track more than once.

- the art is beautiful. really. couple of bad shadowing here and there, but nothing too glaring. overall a 9/10.

- music score is not too distracting, but not too bland. it blends well with the changes in themes, and transitions into combat. however, it's nothing stellar (although this could be influenced by me not playing with the speakers up, and all the background noise going on. hmm). on second take, i'll retract that! music is awesomesauce.

- gameplay is fairly intuitive, controls are easy to remember and maneuverability is a lot better than the first installation.

- there's more good points, but let's move forward! let's just assume that if i've not listed something in 'the bad', then it deserves some merit in 'the good'.

the bad:
- sometimes camera angles can be annoying, at other times it can be unintuitive, and once in a blue moon, it can be downright annoying! luckily the camera is easily manipulated with the right thumbstick, but camera adjustment speed seems a tad low, and, especially when performing some of the more acrobatic jumps, aiming for a mushroom / moving platform / specific spot can be horrendously skewed when you cannot rotate the camera in time or end up with a bad angle. just takes some getting used to, but i'm nitpicky about this, as the whole game centres around a lot of platform play.

- mini games. some love them, some hate them. there's a nice balance of mini games in 'alice', to retract from the 3rd person shooter/rpg so that it doesn't become too monotonous. however, if you're one of those persons who are like me, i found there to be just a bit of repetition in a couple of the mini games. the slippery-slide ones are okay. the side-scrollers are a bit teeth-grinding (luckily they aren't particularly hard), and the puzzle-box (?) chess puzzles were sufficiently hard but not 'omg-i-need-a-walkthrough' hard. if anything, there could be a few more of the chess puzzles. those were fun. which brings me to another mini game that deserves its own mention in 'the bad' section...

- sidescroller / 3rd person baby doll head mini game. this. is. so. [insert ragefase]. it's quite infuriating because the physics and mechanics of this mini game are quite poor compared to the other aspects of the game. alice, i am disappoint. if you take a look at the clip below (it's very long so i won't recommend viewing the whole thing), you can see an example of a box-rearrangement puzzle (this was probably the hardest one) at the very beginning, and compare that to the head-rolling minigame (this was the easiest as it was our first encounter with this mini game) at the 10th minute.

i guess i'll blame my inability to perform these mini games on my childhood depravity of mario and sonic, but hey, luckily it's just a small (although time-consuming, if you failed like me) part of the game.
- besides these particularities, in general there seems to be a bit of a clipping issue if you jump near ledges. just a tad. teeny weeny. itsy bitsy. yellow polka dot magnitude. it did cause me some grief especially with the purple/invisible platforms, but i guess i'm just a bit of a n00b to be complaining about this. maybe some other players won't notice this.

- my friend, miss-tanuki, pointed out that during the guitar-hero mini games, there was no audio cue. small pedanticism, but it would have been a simple and nice addition to the game.

- the game might be a bit linear for the newer generation of gamers who have become accustomed to 'limitless' worlds like in fallout 3 (also an epic game, btw), but i liked it.

the insane:
- if you have a minor ocd like me, you'll find yourself looking for teeth, which are required to upgrade your weapons, even long after you've fully upgraded your weapons. smashing boxes and treasure chests which you know will just contain more (useless) teeth and extending your game time unnecessarily. damn you, developers. similarly, with potion bottles (which, we found out only after finishing the game, is required for viewing extra material), rose paint, random secrets here and there. just like any other game, though, this depends on how particular you are about chasing that 'perfect game'.

- there really are no 'boss fights' per se (you just get introduced to a new monster-type, that eventually becomes bread and butter baddies) except for the final boss [no spoilarz plx! you're welcome]. i have nothing against this, but it would have been nice to have had battles against some boss characters, similar to the first 'alice'. i can already think of some game mechanics that might be nice, but i'm no game developer, so i'll leave this up to your opinion.

- and finally, here comes the eye candy. when you've played through the game once, and seen all the different themes in the game, you'll quickly come to realise that you've had chosen your favourite theme / dress / weapon / character etc. i don't know why, but i became attached to the characters and themes in the game fairly quick. blame it on the whole lewis carroll obsession, but i have no doubt many players will, too. in any case, you get to mess around with alice's costumes. not gonna use the word dress-up here, to save all the male players out there some grace. each dress has its own ability, but let's just concentrate on the aesthetics here:

my personal favourite is probably the 'royal suit' (the red dress with a cards theme, pictured below with alice holding the hobby horse weapon). the steamdress (black but not gothic one) comes in a very close second, though, because steampunk is so awesome. have a look through the video and see for yourself.

p/s: a friend pointed out that the fleshmaiden dress looks like something out of a lady gaga concert. the white pupils and permanent hysteria mode, however, make it worth equipping. also, it's in theme with little-sister liddle's queen of hearts. awwww. cute in a tentacle-rape sisterly kind of way... how disturbing.

looking for the colour fuchsia

2011-08-08T22:21:00.003+08:00

certain cultures in this world believe that men and women are made in pairs. they believe that every individual is created, long before their souls are breathed into any physical form, and made attached - spiritually, at the very least - to another. if there is any notion of heaven or heavenliness, these cultures believe that a pair of souls are made, intertwined and already in relation, separated then by the souls' journeys to earth. and while their transcendence (or fall) to a physical plane dooms them to separation , the cultures (at the very least) believe that they are destined to rejoin.

this is romantic, at the very least, and a self-fulfilling prophecy, at most. i want to believe in this, but the sheer amount of polygamists, divorcees, never-been-marrieds and homosexuals leads me to think - romanticism has long died and her predecessor, pragmatism, is a cruel and banal dictator. i'm sure the number of each of the aforementioned categories varies from culture to culture, but even the very existence of these categories is doubt enough.

in effect, all i'm saying is that having a fuchsia or et cetera out there waiting for you - fully devoted, admiring and subservient to your every essence and being - is a beautiful idea. it is such a beautiful romance for and of the soul. it is so much a beautiful construct. but, really, that's all it is. an idea, a construct, a novelty. you cannot wait for him or her to come for you and instead, you must create that person yourself. for those who believe, i am envious. for those who disbelieve, i am sorry (and sorrowful). and because of that, i am most sorry for myself.

maybe one day i will learn to paint without the colour fuchsia, but until then, i will keep my palate with only one colour.

parting is such sweet -fsck it-

2011-08-01T11:59:00.002+08:00

what’s that, my dear?
nothing to fear,
just something less than chinaware;
you sure it’s true?
it comes for you,
for fair, it actually comes in pairs.

but worry not,
for eyes so hot,
instead ask why it has to part?
now that you’ve gone,
left me forlorn,
why, now I see a broken heart.

it makes much sense,
this decadence,
now rise to fill this empty shell;
with ignorance,
and no two cents,
my dear, this heart has left to swell.

come lonely nights,
with bitter fights,
that exist not because of loss;
my love, farewell,
or fare-thee-well,
now that I can no more accost.

since I once thought,
that was for naught,
for sometimes lies cannot come true;
yet hold on now
and ask me how?
i messed it up for me, for you?

it was a simple, dainty dish – to feast upon this soul’s last wish,
and yet could not be answered by whom now I beg to ask her why,

instead I plead you let us part with nary shattered, broken heart,
but know that till that day arrives, my dear, you spare me not our lives.

monique

2011-08-01T11:06:00.002+08:00

for those who read sinfest, you may be familiar with our protagonist - a certain short, skinny, blond man-child who goes by the calling of slick. imagine now, how he is and can be a connoisseur of woman and lustfulness, but at the same time is in love with his muse, monique. imagine, too (now non-canonically) that monique is no longer his friend, even when leading him on, and has chosen to disappear from slick's life with nary a trace, and not a social response.

slick has become the loneliest of the forever alones. shallow, sick and sad, is it more describable of slick, or that of monique (of the red roses)?

p/s: do read the comic. it's one of my favourites.

meta-ing it up.

2011-07-31T00:16:00.000+08:00

Little does this thoughtless know,
Of astral beings and ‘bysmal woe;
Verily it does meta- dim,
Every thing takes place but for him.

quote me if you can

2011-07-26T13:28:00.002+08:00

remember, remember the 5th of november,
resounding forever for forsaken bliss;
take tit for tat, make fist and take gander,
nothing is free, quid pro quo, clarice.

a man should have two wives just to be efficient,
not rich but a man with money - that's quite different!
you just have to love your mother, dear hemming,
a revolution without dancing is a revolution not worth having!

i will take it though i do not know of the way,
and in darkness bound they are now all gone astray;
yet surely we're too smart for own good to be true,
dear god, grant me that I love those who love you.

not rich - a poor man with money, but no peace,
nothing is free, quid pro quo, clarice;
i will take it though i know not the way of the living,
a revolution without dancing is a revolution not worth having!

so do away with hope and discard originality, lay low from your nightmares and cower under covers,
on ne sait jamais! le langage est source de malentendus, and believe that all of us are equal but some are more equal than others.

you jelly?

2011-07-23T10:47:00.004+08:00

some people like birds as pets. others like dogs or cats. some unique individuals will like the odd frog or snake or robot chicken. but for me, i don't think these are animals i would be comfortable taking care of. i mean, cats are awesome, for example. don't get me wrong. they're cute and cuddly (unless you're a sphynx cat. eww), but i'm a very low maintenance kind of person. i'd rather not have the responsibility or the obligation of taking care of these animals. not that they're hard to take care of, i guess. i'm sure a lot of people think it's a fairly easy task. but the poop! the voms! the hairballs and other unsightly bodily excetions! do not want.

so, a long time ago, i made up my mind that if i ever got a pet, it would be a jellyfish. on a side note, damn you will smith in 7 pounds for taking this away from me for a while. however, not any old jellyfish is sufficient, i would think. though most are mystical and hypnotising in the way they glide through the water (and that is sufficient to keep me intrigued), there's a kind-of wish list i have:

bloodbelly comb jellyfish

green fluorescent protein. we've talked about it here. super. epic. awesomeness. i guess i would ideally like a tank of multiple species of bioluminescent jellies.

uv jellies
i couldn't find an image of multiple species in a single tank (especially uv ones) but the concept is slightly different from bioluminescent jellies (which emit their own light). uv jellies still use GFP but require an external light source (UV light) to induce the green - purple spectrum of emissions. to compensate you for the lack of a visual cue, here have a video of fake pretty jellies. it's not safe to go alone.

(edit: i found a nice clip, albeit it being misnamed)

deadly jellyfish
ok, i realise the deadliest jellyfish are a group of box jellies (apparently chironex fleckeri, carukia barnesi and malo kingi, but i just cited wikipedia for this). my fascination lies with the portuguese man o' war. there's something about the... foatiness? that just gets me. enough talk, more videos!

how beautiful are those!

extra virgin o-love oil

2011-07-18T22:30:00.004+08:00

i have lived a life ripe with western, eastern and middle-eastern literature, and for that i am blessed. however, though i have met the literature motif many times, i had not yet placed a name upon it till today - virgin love. it basically encompasses love between individuals (and this is emphasised to differentiate it from love with divinity) where there is no marriage or love-making. i will even extend it to include platonicism, as that is what my middle-eastern background (what little i have of it!) will dictate. and we do away with how practice seldom reflects theory, but forgive this little, hopeless-romantic his small corner of literary poland.

my friend introduced me to layla and majnun, specifically by the poet jalaluddin ar-rumi. i must confess that though i have heard of him before, i had never really appreciated his work. maybe it has something to do with how fermina of the red roses was such a fan of rumi, and how poetic it is that i should find inspiration in his work now that she has passed into the hands of another. and hopefully, i will be better able to appreciate the love for godliness, rather than that between humans, now that i have felt the bitter taste of rejection (also overlapping the mystical 'friend zone', though this serves more humorous value than anything).

i think i shall try reading more rumi in my free time, but for now, there are far more important things to do than dwell on virgin love in poetry. such as falling victim to it in real life. ah, life, how well you mimic art. ah, art, how well you mimic emotion. ah, emotion, how well you mimic yourself.

that is just a roundabout way of saying how ironic my situation is (as is everyone elses, but in different aspects). i wish, though, that for all this confusion, maybe it would be appropriate that my writing some day be synonymous with hopeless romanticism. or virgin love. or at least, unrequited love. something to the extent. as long as it deals with lots of irony and humorously so.

no drama

2011-07-18T01:10:00.002+08:00

who knew that guys have just as much drama as girls? as i keep saying, though, if you want to see the worst in people, you will; if you want to see the best you will. it's all about the trinity of: 1) you, 2) 'the other guy' and 3) environment. this is a dogma i have so unashamedly pinched from microbiology (where the outcome of infections depend on 1) the infectious disease, 2) the host and 3) the environment).

in any case, all we need, male or female, to lead drama-free lives is to go out with that perception. no drama.

selling religion (and other stuff)

2011-07-10T07:33:00.002+08:00

some days ago, my friend was telling me that religion is a business plan. it markets greed and pits power struggles against self-righteousness. but, like any business plan, you can't market a product without proper advertising. so you bundle up this (innate) human greed and sell it with promises - and what better promises to hand out than false ones. false here, because as my friend says religious leaders promise things which aren't tangible. for example, a religious figure may promise eternal bliss (in the afterlife) in exchange for all your worldly possessions. according to his argument, i, as a greedy human, fall for this because i want something more than i already have (eternal bliss). one cannot test the promise because it involves that leap of faith (of being dead and gone) so the promise is a false pretence, easily backed by a statement such as 'mr. x went to heaven because he gave me all his gold, mr. y went to hell because he was a miser', a statement nobody can empirically prove. add in some flamboyant marketing skills and possibly cult-mentality. spice up the mix with stuff a person can relate to (like spirit of the corn marketing to the farmers or blessing of the water to a tribe of fishermen), and god is a construct. religion is a facade and prophets are... well, prophets are the greediest of us all, and apparently the best marketing strategists.

i, for one, find dismal this whole portrayal. however, i do consider it to an extent. one must be slightly empirical, and with my denial of these statements (be they with bases or not), makes me a stronger 'believer'. because, obviously, that gives me a bigger palace of diamonds when i pass over to the other side.

p/s: i know i always bitsh about love here. i'm so sorry. it's just that, you live. you fall in love. and sometimes, you just don't climb out again. at least not for a long time. i know this, as an observer from the outside. but when you're up there centre-stage, there's not much you can do about it. except... break down and cry? no. pine and pray and hope for miracles? no. sigh and deject yourself, forsaking much of what you believe in? no. i don't really know... maybe, yes.

yours, mine, eh.

2011-07-04T01:00:00.002+08:00

some undertakings are harder than others. but none are as hard as yours.

to this i am blind but plainly see, that the world does not revolve around me; neither does it around you, nor he, nor she, nor them. specs of dust carry the same weight that we do.

to that, i am deaf because i turn such ear, but that is not because i do not hear the rushing of wind as an eternity passes by every time i realise that to hear, one must live in absolute silence.

and to fare further away from the senses, one has to live free - free of emotion, free of fright, free of all inhibitions that make one reluctant and unable to act. and this is such a hard undertaking.

some undertakings are harder than others. but none are as hard as yours.

via experience

2011-07-01T20:34:00.003+08:00

languages are one of those things that you can pick up easily but can only master through constant and prolonged use. just like how a native speaker of a language can differentiate between regional accents, so can he tell when a non-native (non-fluent) speaker is butchering the language. much like i do. much like illegal immigrants do. much like pretentious posers in cowboy boots and overly-warm sweatshirts. ahem, i digress.

languages are also one of those things that, with failure to continually exercise, it falls into decrepit decay and slowly ebbs away, leaving one with fumbled gestures and stuttered words. it's like a literary muscle which suffers from the withdrawal effects of a proverbial steroid, leaving us hapless in the absence of injections of farfetched words and uncommonly-used phrases.

so how, pray tell - how does one improve on a language by shortcuts and improvised lies? by turning on the subtitles to movies when one should be listening for nuances in speech? by not looking up alien words or culturally placing exotic phrases? by dismissing education for ignorance?

i don't pretend to know the answers, being a speaker of foreign languages. i don't pretend to know how one would attempt to answer these questions, being a writer of foreign tongues. all i do pretend to do, is write. and speak. but not so much that i'm a pretentious poser in cowboy boots and overly-warm sweatshirts.

how?

2011-06-29T22:26:00.002+08:00

how do i live through every day?
my eyes are blind, my heart's gone 'stray?
what is my name? it's been so long,
my legs too heavy to carry on.

how do i wake from 'ternal sleep?
a slumber of nightmares that make me weep?
and 'tween them sporadic ungazing stares, from you, my dear, my star of flares.
how does this body heal through such pain?
from canc'r'd sun and acid rain?
'tis easy compared to flightless stairs, to beggars who peddle most worthless wares.
how doting love in sins mayhap?
that prays to God with lips so chap'd,
where 'doth' and 'wherefore' destined pairs; goodbye, enough of careless cares.

how do i live through every day?
how do you under starless nights?
come now whatever demons may,
june and july, for this one's plights.

how cares he not for endless smiles?
and you not, too, for wasted whiles?
how ragg'd poet writes in prose,
and lets go now while no one knows!

my life as a soldier of fortune

2011-06-28T23:07:00.002+08:00

my youth was so full of ignorance. and this is not something that is new or exciting. it's neither unforseen nor unwanted. but, i'd like to point out a particular naivety that has come to light in the past 3 or 4 years - that i used to do things for idealism. that's not a misstated concept, i did not do things idealistically, but i did things for idealism. what does that even mean, you ask? let us take some examples and see if this concept can be... conceptualised.

1. i used to want to do a job because i loved it. now i just need the money. lots and lots and lots of money. it's a bit too late for that, but what i want is more important in this conceptualisation that what i'm able to achieve.

2. i used to want to eat because it sustained me, it tasted exquisite, it was worth eating. now i'm just fracking hungry.

3. i used to want to love because i loved this person, this divine being, this heart of purity and flesh of ambrosia. now i just love because everyone's doing it. and because you can't love with just love alone.

4. i used to want to live because life was worth living; that the succulent taste of life was double rainbows and cats and cheeseburgers. now, wtf is this, i don't even...

5. i used to want to write because words are melodic and true and faithful and sweet, sweet release. now i write because, if i don't, the darkness of the world sits upon my chest like an imp with ball and chain.

6. i used to want to play because it was joyful and relaxing and exuberance of the flesh. now i want to play because, what else is there to do?

i hope this has exemplified how someone may do things because of idealisms (but not any more).

paradiso

2011-06-25T05:00:00.002+08:00

a humming din reverbs this night,
that timid souls may falter flight;
when weary strangers come accost,
and with dawn draws paradise lost.

i want to get ahold of paradise lost. also, given time, 100 years of solitude. where do i find the time? oh yes, the dodos have it!

my dear alice

2011-06-24T11:06:00.003+08:00

some years ago, i played a (at the time, little known) game known as american mc gee's: alice. it's basically a very macabre and twisted version of alice in wonderland. you can read about it more here, in which post i have made all the appropriate links (and shall not bother with in this post, thence).

anyway, a couple of weeks ago. guess. what. i. stumbled. across. oh. mai. gawd.

hells yeah. i'm totally getting this game some time soon. or someone could get it for me for my birthday. i'll probably post all about it when i've played the game, but for the inquisitive, here's the official website (go to the american portal, it's way better).

you can tell i'm so excited. like rebecca black on friday. because the giddiness is practically oozing out your monitors and if you listen closely to your speakers, you can hear me giggling like a little girl on the other side. just like that girl. in wonderland. tee hee. except with less crazy and more happy.

in which forgetfulness is key

2011-06-23T10:28:00.003+08:00

i had the most amazing dream last night. i woke up in the middle of it and (heard this before, folks) it was so vivid. then i forget.

i had an idea i penned down in a single sentence. to write and rhyme and make in art. then i forget.

i have a million things on my to do list, each one more important than the previous. then i forget.

i read from tongues i do not speak, i read from authors i keep wanting to read. i make a list somewhere of books that i need to read before the day is done, before the year is out. i lose these scraps of paper, and then... then i forget.

every day i think of a red rose, and how fermina of such heart is... ineffable. but against all my will, and sometimes more. of this i cannot forget.

he is number four

2011-06-19T22:23:00.006+08:00

go forth, valiant, trusty steed,
gallop now a steady flight;
and of the time, pray, pay no heed,
descend silently into the night.

and with you take these souls of babes, their ribcage oft'n skinless bared,
while stomachs bloat with gaseous falter - breath from neighing nostrils flared.

thy brother mare, of taint sanguine,
ride templar thrown from wild thrashing;
spew gushing blood from kin of mine,
good for absolutely nothing.

taint of blood and sin of flesh, be gone and sound horns of retreat,
for in one's victory war cries, sings eulogy of kin's defeat.

but hark! who goes there, callous fiend?
with unarmed hand, and sorrow'd fame;
and wreak stench of rot and gangrene,
verily, oh, death is thy name.

let your disciple do your bid, and flay our souls from bodies lie,
that even aeons come to pass, that deathless beings even may die.

despair, thee, mortal, hope does no more,
a fourth is come, dressed sickly white;
but what lust has this equine for?
blanch'd hooves upon whose mount takes flight?

with submissive fault faith demise'd, let havoc loose to end's degree,
mayhap hope persists insomuch, a lamb to save us from brothers three.

that's just the way it is

2011-06-19T05:47:00.002+08:00

this is me,
looking at you;
falling in love,
or love misconstrue.

this is me,
gazing through eyes;
like depths of an ocean,
that soulless demise.

this is me,
realised now;
i misplaced a thought,
so i take a bow.

this is me,
fumbling retreat;
while dropping my heart,
that's now at your feet.

this is me,
crying in shame;
as passer-bys smile,
'oh god, that is lame'.

this is me,
in ignorance, bliss;
fatefully that's just the way it is!

it all makes sense

2011-06-18T17:31:00.001+08:00

i don't understand.

tick tock

2011-06-15T15:25:00.004+08:00

life's old clock, doth tick too fast,
whilst seconds gone that nev'r last;
a grandfather now tells and bell tolls,
like bowling balls upon eventless black holes.

hush, silence now, and list'n well,
hath this stopwatch not pray and tell?
of sorrow'd times filled with regret,
breed condescending love beget.

and falt'r with thy heavy heart,
like burning stars from far apart;
count years in which light doth traverse,
with burden'd betterment oft for worse.

now gravitate towards all that you impart,
tick-tock, repeat, for that was false start;
expand at expense of expanseless dark void,
of stellar proportions much like brandon boyd.

falter, falter, falter again, time seeps between fingers that cannot withhold,
reject, reject, rejection, my friend, for thou art forever alone and are old;
(forever thou art alone - an arsehole).
tick tock still goeth this clock.

every fracking day!

2011-06-15T05:54:00.006+08:00

every day, a little bit, again i die inside,
every day, just that much more, my soul does run and hide;
every day, now and again, this mind is sorrowful,
it thinks of mundane repeatings and laughs at pity's fool.

for what is life, this everyday, if not that of motions gone through?
if not for person's emotions, on which imprint unto?
what is our being, if left distilled, in beakers and on shelves?
of quirky, orbiting atoms, and imminent ourselves?
but then, why should we think of things existential in nature,
when at the crux of everyday is being now and here?

again to sleep, with haunting dreams, and shallow sane descents,
again to rise, for present whims that daily decadents;
again to pass a slumbered wake of putrid, tasteless sounds,
again a day to turn anew, much like merry-go-rounds.

every day, an inch closer,
every week, if you prefer,
every month that passes now, remains that of a sinless slur;
every year, now gone - begone,
every time, that is forlorn,
every threshold reached for love and every hatred-leading scorn.

oh, let this hollow carcass lie, another day thus passes by,
along the roads that pave this way, that lead us more and more astray;
a wish for may,
and spring today,
where loves portray,
with much dismay,
this bitter heart of moulded clay;
it breaks that much more every day!

steampunk, woo!

trash talking

2011-06-12T18:35:00.002+08:00

i apologise profusely for the recent strew of posts which have come during a very depressing time in my life. it always seems that when i see that little spark of light at the end of the tunnel, it's only a freight train coming my way. but, that is no real excuse for being perpetually depressed. especially over another person! oh, how dreary!

in any case, today we visit some more detached things: trash.

something i've found quite interesting is the types of trash people throw out. they say you can tell a lot of things of a person from his/her trash, and that one man's trash is another man's treasure. i like to believe that most of this is true, but for most part, trash is simply a by-product of cultural upbringing. how is this even related, you may ask? well, let's see...

1. food. i've found this most prevalent (and thus best exemplified) by the way people prepare their food. most asians tend to prepare their food from scratch (although i notice a changing trend in this, now that instant foods are more abundant and cheap), and so a lot of their food waste is 'wet trash'. you know, eggshells, potato peel, fruit skins, cat tails. stuff like that. westerners are more likely to eat out (and even when they dine at home, they usually buy partially-prepared stuff, like insta-mash and 3-minute spaghetti and meatballs), and so a lot of their waste is 'dry trash'. more tin cans and cardboard boxes. milk cartons and plastic containers. of course, there's going to be a bit of both in everyone's bins, but if you observe trash collection day, you might find this to be true. it kinda blurs in multicultural areas so, i dunno.

2. quantity of trash i don't know why, but young people have way more trash than old people. maybe there's a slight bias in that the young people i observe do live in bachelor(ette) groups, whereas older people have families (which are smaller than the bachelor(ette) groups, and i assume kids don't really generate that much trash. but then, it still doesn't really fit for me. maybe teens to young adults eat more? and waste more? who knows.

3. tidiness of trash (bins). this is just something that boils down to how neat people are, i guess. and, by far, i've noticed that westerners keep their trash cans well in order. no spillage of liquids around the bins, no overflowing bins, and even then, the plastic bags are neatly put in a pile beside the trash bins. asian people just tend to chuck the bags wherever. i mean, it's not as clear-cut as that, especially if you live in an are where trash collection is frequent enough such that you don't need to worry about this becoming a piling problem (pun intended). and maybe the messiness and smell does relate to the contents of the trash, like we were talking about earlier e.g. 'wet trash' vs. 'dry trash'. but, eh, i don't think it's really that hard to keep things in order just for good practice. i don't think it really effects many people, and even the garbage collectors are not callous as to leave stuff in spite when you don't really keep your trash in order. it does prevent the wild ravens from becoming too-dependent on humans, though, and my eco-friendly cousin would like to talk to you about that.

hmm, writing on this new computer makes my ramblings seem so much shorter because the font is so small and screen is so huge! (btw, i have a 15' macbook pro now, yay!). so i guess i'll sign off for now, even though i have a few more points i wanted to 'breeze through'. again, i apologise that my recent posts are a bit out of the way, even for me (not that anyone would notice). i blame my muse (or, i guess now, lack thereof).

on emotion

2011-06-10T21:01:00.002+08:00

romance is the work of the devil, and love is his sardonic laughter. late into the nights as we cuddle up in bed, a duvet the substitute for what warmth another body may supply to fend off the biting winter chills, we hear this laughter - hollow, resonating, mocking and eternally piercing. we hear it when we're alone, we hear it in the presence of others, we hear it when we're tired and we hear it when we're lying there unable to catch a breath of sleep, even when the very strength of our wakingness has far left our bodies and our spirits are already deep in slumber before our eyes could even shut.

for love, in any measure or extent, is what jeers at us as we lie there, slowly absorbing the banality of existence. the meaninglessness of being, if it were not for that significant heat sink, upon which our toes pander a measly attempt at intimacy, which is only a guise for annoyance in the form of warmth and personal space.

do you know that feeling when you are in love, or at most, when you are newly in love? the feeling where everything is beautiful and sweet and tasteful and perfection? the feeling where nothing could wrong you and you could do no wrong? the exact inverse of this feeling is the emotion of love when you find out one of many things; that your love is unrequited, that your love cannot be, that your love is futile, that your love is laughable, etc. but, the zenith of this dark, pitiless emotion is when all these antonyms of love and intimacy coalesce and form a realisation that all that you have held dear in ideology is a blatant lie. and even more sarcastically, that the lie was concocted by none other than yourself - fed to an ego that is blind and naive. and that, is what the work of the devil fruits in, also known as the failure of romance.

sometimes, i regret that hopeless romanticism is abundant in my life. in one's life. in anyone's life. not just for himself (or myself), but also for passion, for ideals, for another person, and for love in itself. sometimes i regret it so much because it leads to nothing more than contemplation, and nothing less than heartbreak. but on other occasions, i am happy that this holds true, for what other than human fallacy is a better representation for all that we hold dear - the human condition?

naive, indeed. maybe one day i will have realised what emotion really is, and when i finally do, i will compare and contrast it to this concept of hopeless romanticism. i only pray that i will come out the victor when all is not lost. but if i should ever have to live a lie in order to live a life, then i cannot fathom something more worthy of lying for than life in itself.

and that, is what drives an (the) emotion.

starless night

2011-05-31T16:37:00.003+08:00

stormy day, stormy day,
make my worries go away;
mend my flesh and lead my mind, let not this heart go astray.

peach-tinged dusk, peach-tinged dusk,
guide this soul's most arduous task;
let it not collosal crush, leave this body's lifeless husk.

starless night, starless night,
protect this jittered mind from fright;
know that it begs forgiveness, and in recluse it finds its might.

warmth of dawn, warmth of dawn,
colour not these arms with brawn;
instead make strong its eye of mind, and with sharp tongue, again reborn.

calm blue day, calm blue day,
come whatever, come what may;
with yesterday's passing of sins, again to supplicate and pray.

sometimes, all you need is a spell

2011-05-31T11:59:00.002+08:00

me: i cast magic missles, level 3 on the raging behemoth!

dungeon master: interesting choice of spell! *rolls a d10 behind the DM screen). do an intelligence check to see if it hits

me: ok! *rolls a d20, which comes out an 18*. wewwwww! 18 is good, right?

dm: :( your arcane missiles miss the monster horribly.

me: GOD . FREAKING. DAMN. IT. rageeeeeeee

d&d with horrible dms are a parody of my life.

boomerang intentions

2011-05-29T19:58:00.002+08:00

i don't really fancy myself as a man of philosophy, but if i were to associate with a classical school of thought, it would be existentialism. this is somewhat counterintuitive for the developing me, as i used to try very hard to be et logos, and very empirical. in any case, the crux of existentialism has been a central tenet to my every (well, at least most) decision-making process, and i am very thankful for this. some think this may be at odds with supposed piety, but au contraire, it just fuels the fire.

revisiting the whole purpose of this post (yes, i have degenerated to having purpose again, how awful!), it is with a lead heart that i betray my own feelings and write for hope where there is none. the prejudice against all that is dear and holy seems so hypocritical now. i can see myself staring at the past me, sitting in bed, writing this entry, feeling so uncertain. and all i can do in that future state is shake my head and possibly laugh at the infantile optimism that plagues my recent existence.

as a reminder to all, this is just convolutions to mean that sometimes, you don't really know where you're headed, and (even worse) how to describe the journey. what's important, though, is that we never lose sight of the fleetingness of life, and (for those who believe in higher powers and afterlives) that what may come has the potential to supersede everything we find tangible today.

and for those who don't believe in such things? then there is nothing left to lose from doing whatever you find necessary - except your own. c'est la vie.

another fleeting hope in may,
come slighted feelings disarray;
with nothing left to gain or lose,
one does rely on his own muse.

and when she flees and goes away,
one must not let love lead astray;
yet hope that if all is done true,
one's muse in end, comes back to you.

i cannot fathom disregard of dead old saints, and purity;
but if this muse does live unscarred, therein lies my own destiny.

death of art

2011-05-24T13:27:00.002+08:00

rembrandt!
oh, rembrand!
where have you gone?
the broken are downtrodden without your etchings;
i cannot believe that this world is worn,
the calmest and greatest of all your blessings.

van gogh!
oh, van gogh!
to where have you fled?
the sunflowers are wither in lack of your shine;
your room haunting arles is now without bed,
and all of us are sane, yet out of your mind.

tchaikovsky,
tchaikovsky!
where lies now your soul?
there dreaming of death and nutcrackers and swans;
i hark now the sugarplum's coming of old,
like queens who have crossed and checkered by mere pawns.

shakespeare,
oh shakespeare!
where for art thou?
mayhap lying still at stratford-'pon-avon;
why question the why, with pertinent how,
when can you let bygones be bygones begone.

plato,
dear plato!
stop hiding in caves,
stop thinking of logic, rhetoric and maths;
come masses and ages, all of this still waives,
yet, maybe one day we can proper cross paths.

celestial

2011-05-20T21:05:00.004+08:00

i wished this sordid soul of i,
to freely fly and touch the sky;
and grace the heavens above all things,
strike angels down with broken wings.

alas, i did not comprehend, the beauty far beneath their souls,
so fell prey to incompetence, somewhere between love and black holes.

i begged and pleaded to their hearts,
and bargained mercy from their eyes;
but neither have they human parts,
nor have they ears for callous lies.

so cry, ashamed, and banished i - before i could yet chance my stay,
and beckoned back the angels frowned, and told to i to go away.

yet icarus did not heed hear,
and listen oft to primal fear;
again wished i this sordid soul,
could mend itself - again be whole.

so in the constellations prayed, and divined in the planet's gaze,
for 'nother chance at angel's tears such that we would not yet pass ways.

how can this sordid soul beget,
what does deserve he not this yet;
and complicate in words unsaid,
far and above and angel's head.

so supernovas and big bangs, are pass and manage cyclic feat;
come back, oh angel, to this soul, and make him once again complete.

the best inspiration derives from things that are real. and, for me, i find that one of the most real feelings i have ever had (or at least the most realising of feelings) is heartbreak and the torment of a hopeless, soulless romantic. some of the most beautiful poetry i have ever read are those abound of love, but none of them ever did compare to the ones unrequited. and so, here, for the first time (i think), i am unabashedly publishing something i wrote for fermina of the red roses. i think there is a stellar irony in knowing the fact that it will never be read by fermina (or anyone else for that matter), but if ever there be justice in this world, let it not be said that i did not write.

things i've learned

2011-05-18T15:13:00.003+08:00

it's funny, thought i've failed most of my experiments in the lab, i still learned a lot of things:

1. the smell of fresh (and not-so-fresh) agar is so good! sometimes, the ones with bacterial growth in it smells good, too...

2. pipetting after the nth time makes it 2nd nature. you can even turn off and multitask e.g. listen to music, read some lovecraft online, think of long-lost loves. which eventually makes you depressed. then you realise you're pipetting. yay!

3. fungus grows everywhere. really. sterlie plates. not so sterile anymore :(

4. running the autoclave machine or macro-centrifuge at 12am when nobody around is pretty fricken scary. it's like the malaysian equivalent of hearing whispers when nobody's around. on that topic, it's funny how you get spooked back home so easily, but here... not so much.
5. a career in science is... way overrated :/ at least the lack of job security is such a big worry that everything else pales in comparison.

what dreams may day

2011-05-17T14:41:00.002+08:00

dreaming has been associated with many things, from sleep deprivation to fertility to divine intervention to just being bat-$h!t crazy. we'll not talk about the research related to these inferences, partially because i don't buy most of it, and partially because there is no reproducibility in the results. and, of course, it's downright dry and dull.

however, we shall talk about a recurring theme of dreams that i've had recently, which has been driving me nuts. over the past month or so, i've been dreaming heavily of running away from something or towards something. just basically running. like a mad man. on steroids. and this is coming from someone who rarely dreams (or rarely remembers his dreams). it's just downright redonkulous.

for example, i've dreamt of running a marathon. and running away from a pack of dogs. and running towards a finish line (though similar to the marathon dream, this one was a bit wacky in that it wasn't really a race but there was a finish line. seriously wtf). you get the picture. oh, yeah, the best one was running away while the earth is falling apart. think armageddon meets 2012. where would one run to if the whole earth is crumbling beneath your feet? honestly, these dreams make me feel like a retard.

but, anyway *ahem*. that's what the dreams are about. more importantly, though, is how the dreams end. abrupt. confusing. and, always. always. i wake up panting like a rabid dog, dehydrated to the bone and with my head spinning like a merry-go-round. i'm also usually sweating and feeling super hot. once in a while i might even feel ever-so-slightly nauseous. but that's kind of stretching it.

just like how a double rainbow puzzles some, 'what does it mean?' i wish i knew someone who interprets dreams. actually, i do, but this person hasn't divulged any info of use as of yet. agh, the confusion!

sickly rainbow, what does it mean?

2011-05-14T06:39:00.002+08:00

to read a thousand stormy gales,
and sing of cats and great blue whales;
to lose a girl you've not for fought,
to lose a man you need say naught!

with cheerful skies that heavy rains, a rainbow sickly sorrow sweet,
alas, this world's too beautiful, so in another we might yet meet.

p/s: double post because i feel like it!

expectations in the time of tender nights

2011-05-14T06:03:00.002+08:00

i love written word. literature. novels. poetry. sometimes plays and often songs. this is, unfortunately, not a portrayal of myself, and i often find disgust in the fact that i have yet to write something of any significance.

however, that has never stopped me from projecting and living vicariously through the novels i read. ultimately, this has lead me to draw from, and relate to many, if not all the things i read. it is humorous how readily one, such as i, can see oneself in characters detached entirely from reality, but i believe that fiction is the best salve for non-mortal wounds. and i hope, one day, i can meet someone with similar passion, because what is now left a vestigial hope of defining a soulmate, lingers on as promise of a clear and present sign.

in any case, my reading is not extensive. i would wish to have read more but i have slowly come to terms that this is not feasible - there are too many fronts in life to pursue to warrant sacrificing more important things for the time being (which is a thorough-hearted, sinful promise to myself that one day, when the dust has settled, i will indulge in reading to my fullest content. but today is definitely not that day).

with each changing emotion, i refine this list of novels that define and represent me, and for the past few years, here are the top 3 books that, if i had to hand to someone to read to describe myself, would be:

1. great expectations, by dickens.
2. love in the time of cholera by gabriel garcia marquez.
3. tender is the night by fitzgerald.

a slight amendment i would make is that, unlike how fermina and florentino are actually (initially) in love, substitute for how werther falls for someone already married, as per goethe's work of said name.

and you thought a young man bereft of love was a pitiful sight!

of cats, teapots and flowers

2011-05-12T12:56:00.000+08:00

a kitten!
a kitten!
we all are but smitten,
there isn't a sound that it would make sad;
but after the meows and soft, cuddly snores,
what's that? poo on my bed?
*smack* bad, kitty, bad!

a teapot!
a teapot!
what better to make friends?
a soothing, lemon-smell does waft'n the air;
but, oh, here comes kitten! prancing up and down,
down topples and *crash*!
oh, my, that's not fair.

a love letter!
a love letter!
how could you not smile?
when reading soft lines of unrequited warmth?
how cruel is thine fate, when hearts do not meet,
and destiny's daughter does nigh step forth.

a rose!
a rose!
what beautiful prose,
was written to 'company this undying heart;
but gone are the days when right is preferred,
we've all failed to do our small, petty part.

a tissue!
a tissue!
is all that is left,
of sickly-sweet sorrows, and petty distractions;
*ahem* don't be quick to judge that meek suitor,
what lacks he in blind, he
makes up in affection.

an ending!
and ending!
quick, call for one now!
he sighs and he wallows in languid self-guilt;
*slap* goes the wrist,
*sigh* goes one's lips,
there crumbles the hopes he has long has tried built!

omg, you're kidding me, a kitten & roses teapot really does exist! let the lols commence!

goodbye, old friend

2011-05-10T17:24:00.003+08:00

well, well, well. look what the cat dragged in. some negligent blogger, apparently!

so, there's a lot of things that have been happening lately, and i obviously had wanted to write about them (it's therapeutic!). however, lady luck is being a persistent and proverbial biatch, much to my dismay. my old powerbook g4 has finally died, and for the record, i'd like to state that it really wasn't its fault (i may have accidentally dropped it from my lab bench. possibly). who knows how many years it had in it left, but going strong at 7 years, even though it made the noise of an aeroplane taking off every time i started the old thingamajig up... i still love you!

in any case, the poor thing has died, and i have lost my reason to live... i mean, i have been finding it hard to do the things that i used to take for granted. i've lost all my passwords (which i forget 20s after penning down), i can't do my internet banking, i can't check my emails (although i seem to have no problems checking facebook from the lab computer) etc. etc. you get the picture.

so yeah, blogging... put on the backburner for a while, but when i get my new laptop (hopefully this weekend, if i can manage to get paid. apparently my employers are having some problems with my tax file number, so i haven't been paid properly in a while /sadfase). macbookpro, i'm thinking. hmmm. still haven't decided which and what to get.

ahh, writing on the fly with no purpose is so disconcerting, i need to get back into the mood of having a topic to write about. in any case... toodles with noodles.

break before you turn

2011-04-30T03:26:00.002+08:00

when bones break, they snap askew, they bleed on blanche, they mend anew.

when banks break, they wrangle votes, they live on debt, they burn our notes.

when hearts break, one cannot feel, it shred apart, and does not heal.

when minds break, what's left is void, with lifeless years, addled and toyed.

when spirits break, awkward and odd, one strayed too far, from love and God.

when eyes break, with pupils fray, from casting gaze, that looks away.

when hands break, they smash and shatter, they do not do, what else that matter.

when men break, they go awry, they do break down, all night they cry.

when i brake, it's vegas or bust. woo.

woods from the trees (omg there's a flying lizard, too)

2011-04-26T03:41:00.005+08:00

sometimes i like to think that life is like a giant forest. it doesn't have to be a conventional forest with trees and such, and most of the time i end up dreaming that the objects around you change. perpetually. incessantly.

you're not really trying to get to a point on the other side of all these trees; you don't really know where you're headed except you're moving around in this vast and practically infinite world of events. which is not to say that life is such a big adventure for everyone - in fact most of the people i know strive to make it linear and predictable. there is a sense of security required as a basic need for many persons to just keep moving. and (unsaddling my high horse here) i am happy to admit that i am one of these persons. in the most extreme of senses, too. monotony, how i love thee. say you'll never leave me?

the themes explored in my brief ennuis are neither alien nor novel. attaining maturity, convolution of events, unpredictability of life, so on and so forth. i am not trying to claim grounds on any of these ideas. the only thing i do want to claim is having learnt from my mistakes. and there should be a godaymn prize for this, too, because it's not something that came easily.

one of the greatest things about life is the fleetingness of it all - the fact that you can be scaling a tree one second, and falling to your death the next; or swimming a lake today only to wake up adrift in a sea of madness and mad men. women, too, if you like. gender equality and all that jazz. so, for a person such as myself, where ecstasy is taking a couple hours from a daily slog to engage in escapism, only to return when i need to instead of when i want, coming to terms with that life will not grow the garden of idealisms and set-goals you've (i've) worked for all along is a very scary idea. that, and in converse, life will probably mutate into that scary and exciting forest we wanted for metaphor earlier.

the next big step would probably be not just coming to terms with this, but embracing it. loving it for all it's worth. and best of all, living it to the fullest. feel free to insert your cliched remarks here about having no regrets or seizing the day. i would care to banter with you but there's some pterodactyls flying overhead that need to say hello to my steam-punk grappling hook.

i love his craft

2011-04-25T15:51:00.001+08:00

i sought to best this stormy night,
and 'gain to walk amongst the living;
but ill prepared, this soulless wight,
for in his house, he waits dreaming.

Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn...
Cthulu fhtagn!

serve thy rightly

2011-04-21T19:42:00.004+08:00

of stormy seas and flowing gales,
of desert suns and arid winds;
hath not it spoken whence thine fails?
from folly wrest our mortal sins.

and thought this i were heart of stone,
come lovely sights and lightful days;
with tongues 'tis tied and honour hone,
a mind breath stillborn passeth ways.

alas, i heed no summer's day,
and naught doth sorrow winter's night;
come reckless 'bandon fortunes may,
with starry, boneless wings take flight.

i preached and swore 'gainst God's best will, i said so convicted so true,
how would i know of what is best? of this one's faith lies but in You.

the young man and bacteria

2011-04-17T17:04:00.002+08:00

i am dumbfounded. my experiments have failed yet again. though they have not failed me inasmuch as i have failed them, as they have taught me more than i could ever garner from success alone.

and still i do not understand, what has gone where wrong how whyly? maybe a fresh start will cure this ailment. maybe a fresh start will cure everything. maybe a fresh start will absolve all the sins of a once old man, and rejuvenate what youth is left of embalming hope.

one can only freshly start once he has shaven his beard and moustache. this, i believe to be the true irony of youth. much like how marlins struggle for days before dying at the hands of incompetent old men, and becoming fodder for sharks and tourist cameras.

knight

2011-04-14T22:06:00.002+08:00

in the year of farms, where animals nightly roam,
outside the bounds of human's, pig's home;
toils mighty the strength of slightly in fright,
of death for others, the chivalrous knight.

for money or hay, there is not naught,
for queen and country this old mare fought;
only but to not afford, his coffin in blunder,
through taken in wreaths, his own six feet under.

in selflessness lives, in lonesome is death,
to each knight lies, and lives through last breath;
and cannot repay what is valued by none,
until there's left all nary but one.

so, queen, dictate and steady your hand,
'tis not without love lost in reprimand;
and tell him, your knight, of moon-lit - star shine,
while intoxicated with bribe and sickly cheap wine.

then feed him no meal, and feed him no love,
until comes death's angel from low or above;
then forget him just as you had with your brother,
when in fact he was ready to give smother.

and know that this knight will forever ~~love thee~~ devotee,
even when your heart and hand is with he.

temporal displacement

2011-04-14T14:39:00.000+08:00

like whoa.

finding love

2011-04-12T15:42:00.002+08:00

usually i like to allude in my posts. it seems more aloof and permits me to retain what little measure of dignity i have left after the breach of anonimity. however, today's is more explicit,involving a theme commonplaace in our lives - the pursuit of love. sure, it's noble to talk about divine love or family love or friendship love or even love for an inanimate object (though, i don't think loving your right hand is something i want to hear about). however, i'm referring to the plain and simple love for a single, other human being in a romantic way. and no, i don't want to hear your ideas on polyamory.

what brought this about is the simple (and probably insignificant) event of rejection, which leaves me stranded (still) in a land of confusion and trying to find love. to be honest, i wanted to write a lot on this, but as i lie here, i think now that i need to straighten my thoughts beforehand (sleep sounds pretty good, too).

so i guess i'll leave you with some choice phrases or sentences that you may have heard (received or even used) before. choice here because i don't really seem to understand them:

5. 'it's just the way things are meant to turn out'
4. 'i never saw you in that kind of way'
3. 'you're the closest i've had to a brother / sister, but you never passed that level'
2. 'it's not you'

all of these never really make sense to me. maybe i'm just that thick but i dunno, there's got to be better ways (more empathic ways, at least) of letting someone down. oh, and this is my personal favourite, because i get this every single time. without fail. it's like the description of my (absence of) relationship life. i don't even know how true this is, because it can't be so true as to warrant all this loneliness. have at you:

1. 'you're really a great guy/girl, but...'

yeah, there must be a textbook out there somewhere and this is the first thing people learn.

anyway. i really hope this didn't end up being a b*tching post, it never was intended to be that way. i am not bitter, and i am not angry (honestly!). i am but confused.

still looking for a way into love.

dejectedly i sigh.

forever.

alone.

kekekekeke.

time machine

2011-04-08T16:23:00.002+08:00

there's many points in life when i wish i could go back in time and change certain key points in my history. i think of this so much, in fact, that i have it narrowed down to a list of 3 key points, exactly. though the pomp and circumstance of each situation is important, and paradoxically unimportant to what i am stating today, it is essential that i point out that there are, indeed, such turning points in our every lives (and if you disagree, you are either a lucky b*s3rd, or deserve a punch in the face for being a liar).

however, many things shape our outlooks on life - from how we percieve things to how we deal with things, to how we respond to things. though what i say may just be shrugged off because it contains no value and fits no context, i would like to say it anyway:

like many scholars of the eastern philosophies, one should learn to accept things, not only as they are, but with the confidence that each occurance has produced a best-fit solution. each and every time. it may be easy for one to find, in his limited and short-sighted mind, a plethora of ways in which each occasion could have been bettered, but at the end of the day, even the simple belief that this could not be further from the truth is sometimes enough to lead us to making better decisions at each of the new corners we face, be they major or inconsequential ones.

to reiterate, the thought that things couldn't have turned out better (not just for oneself but for everyone on a whole), may be the saving grace of our very existence. and the fact that i still live is a testimony to this, if only in my own mind. ah, well, i suppose if things were to happen in a different way, i would not have had them happen the same way they replay in my mind, anyway, so there is naught but folly in assuming that they would.

song-a-long

2011-04-07T08:59:00.002+08:00

hello again, everyone! in the final installation of song-a-long, we visit the kubler-ross model, more commonly known as the five stages of grief. though he writes in specific reference to death, any tragedy can easily befit the model. as such, through the week we (i) have visited (though not actually in this order) the following:

1. denial
2. anger
3. bargaining
4. depression

and have yet to come to the final stage...

5. acceptance.

however, it would be folly to say that this will never come about, and one day or another, i think i'll finally be at peace with myself (and fermina, i would hope). in lieu of that, the final song is dedicated to accepting grief.

in other news, i find it ironic that i started blogging in the first place to cope with worldly woes, and ended up on hiatus for the same reason. i guess that didn't work well, and writing does provide a good outlet for the soul. in conclusion, back to blogging like before.

song-a-long

2011-04-06T10:34:00.002+08:00

when i graduated from listening to my father's old vinyl and cassettes of queen, guess which band i started listening to as a personal choice? yeap, a lil' bit of glam rock, a lil' bit of crazy-a$$ vocals. my favourite song from aerosmith is actually, 'jaded' but i think this song suits the song-a-long week theme better. just so you can see how epic the clip is, though, here's some j-j-jaded.

song-a-long

2011-04-05T22:42:00.001+08:00

double post today because i missed monday. also, no elaborations because i'm really tired and i guess there's not much to say yet. song-a-long week continues for a few more days, you won't have to put up with much more, i swear!

song-a-long

2011-04-03T09:31:00.002+08:00

queen is probably my favourite band of all time. listening to them brings back memories of more innocent times.

times where life revolved around coming home from school and looking forward to kicking around the football with friends 'til dusk, then falling asleep in the company of a good fantasy book.

times when sitting with my brother and playing scrabble or a default computer game or cards (with made up rules), or heading to the cousins' house was a highlight of the weekend.

times where having time alone enabled me to just sit alone on the college roof and stare at the stars.

song-a-long

2011-04-02T08:46:00.001+08:00

not really liking their style, but the song really speaks. also, i hate you sony entertainment for disallowing embedding of all the official clips. please die in a fire.

song-a-long

2011-04-01T15:52:00.002+08:00

a lot of my fellow bloggers link video-clips or youtube clips on their blogs, which is pretty cool. i've always had a thing against doing that, since it derails from actually writing. however, i don't really write all that much nowadays, even though i really intend to get back at some point. things just haven't permitted such. and life is just too complicated right now. as such, i'm going to try this for a bit. one week to be exact. and you can look forward to a clip a day, each time representing a bit of the theme i'm living through right now.

however, i do realise in the fullest that when other people do this on their blogs or facebook or the such, i rarely view the videos. this is partially due to indifference, and partially due to my mac slowly dying away, much similar to what little bit of soul and faith i have left. and so, i guess, i don't really expect anyone to view these, but it does serve here as a good reminder to myself, should i go through my archives in the future (something i actually enjoy doing). but for that small fraction of a percentage of people (where in this case n < 3) who actually relate to the songs, these are dedicated to you - for the lyrics only really mean something to someone who can empathise, and the melancholy is only spared to those who sympathise with their fellows. skull!

flawed plans

2011-03-30T23:06:00.002+08:00

how can God expect so much from something he built to withstand so little?

this is pretty much the crux of my (dis?)belief in the whole faith system.

does it make a person stronger to keep enduring, or does it make him more foolish? either way, you won't know until you try something. right?

withering paper flowers

2011-03-29T12:20:00.002+08:00

i made you origami roses, but you stepped on them as you walked by.
i wrote you victorian poems, but you would rather listen to indonesian pop music.
i baked you triple chocolate cheesecake, but you took not a bite, as this was against your diet.
i video-conferenced you, but you put your id on silent as you annoyedly declined.

silly moon, why do i think you for fireflies when the sun is already out and shining in all her glory?

- rip fermina of the red roses-

letters to fermina

2011-03-28T17:41:00.002+08:00

love is a process of filtering.
for every emotion, most are discarded, and some are thought through.
for every thought through, most are discarded and some are commit to writing.
for every letter i write, most are discarded and... actually all are discarded.

in the process of filtering love, none have made it through my personal sieve. none have it made it to your eyes, and this is for the best!

priorities

2011-03-23T22:55:00.002+08:00

men:
1. get laid
2. feed self
3. sleep
4. get laid again

women:
1.
2.
3.
4.
...
9132.

feel free to fill in the list at your convenience.

don't worry

2011-03-14T09:43:00.005+08:00

'do not worry about a thing', my mother used to say,
of this she would remind me of, day by day by day;
'do not worry about a thing', my father warned me so,
''cause if you do, and all is well, you beget naught but woe'.

i did not worry about lunch money, not when i had no pence,
i worried not of jeering friends, whose words - they made no sense;
nary did i worry much, when they laughed at blondes and blacks,
or when i sat on wooden chairs, but greeted with thumb-tacks.

again, i did not worry 'bove my ankles hung my pants,
and when they made fun of my love for maths, or silly rants;
i did not worry when i could not kick a ball by posts,
and never did i feel my glasses were too thick for most.

and then came times when social status was measured by laughs and smiles,
i did not worry, in the least, from those i wandered yards and miles;
like children, still, it was not fair, nor fair was i - true story,
no 'neither' for 'nor', you say (that's true) but of this i don't worry.

so grew apart and gravitate, to those who worry not,
and rejoice with the crowd that sees right through the fateful lot;
then move away and sulk alone, with ones who run but tarry,
and still be in a little lot, who wary but don't worry.

and tell yourself with every night you sleepless in bed lie,
worry not of missed cupcakes, and strudels and peach pie;
don't worry for a haughty girl, who sees but is so blind,
and shun your monetary woes, of this you must not mind.

i still remember, way back when, my mother used to say,
'do not worry about a thing' - this gets me through the day;
though now she thinks that i am all and but a sorry sod,
in faith we trust, and misbelieve that all is planned by God.

and do not know what to say to those who ask - for this i'm sorry,
but all i have to tell myself is *sigh* i should not worry.

black swan

2011-03-11T15:11:00.001+08:00

is totally awesome.

also, i'm so glad they didn't turn it into cheap smut with the mila kunis / natalie portman scene. yeah, all you guys sighing right now know what i'm talking about.

taking a breaking point

2011-02-28T08:17:00.002+08:00

i've usually enjoyed writing, and i reckon i still do. however, as of late, life has just been up in my grill, baring its decaying teeth and snorting its halitosis-laden breath. suffice to say, a whole new wave of anxiety and uncertainty has come like the red tide of an economic depression.

though i find solace in penning down my thoughts every so often, i think there are far too many things going on right now for me to resume my frequent updates, and i have somehow lost the lust for writing. i wish it were not so, as, in a hierarchy of duties, writing has always been quite high up there for me, even when various other details may have changed.

in short, i will be taking temporary hiatus from blogging (though this is not to say i will not write at all), and the quality and content of posts will be somewhat diverse. a perversion of all i hold dear, but such has become the norm of my tumultuous life, anyway.

fare thee well, blogosphere, i will miss you so! maybe the digital ozone will have repaired whence i return.

pursuit

2011-02-24T17:30:00.002+08:00

people say that your preferences changes with age. the type of foods you like, the music you listen to, the aromas that you find attractive and not.

i just wish i had the certainty of knowing what i actually want anymore.

i guess, i really wish i was still in the race for the pursuit of an objective, because as it is right now, i'm chasing shadows and running in circles - and that light at the end of the tunnel has never been more elusive.

why a zombie invasion is not such a bad thing

2011-02-07T17:54:00.002+08:00

one thing i've learned from history is that friends and enemies are temporary. the current tumultuous conditions in the middle east are a good example of this - say how iraq and afghanistan having being a certain country's lambs during the cold war, leading up to opposition, invasion, and the obligatory revolution, only to be superceded by empty, puppet governments. such was the case with saddam, and in a way, the whole al-qaeda farce.

controversial? contentional? confounding? maybe so. so let's look further back - wwi had the allies and central powers, and wwii had the allies and axis. guess who's on which side of the fence nowadays?

but don't take my word for it, seeing as how my history is very shaky, slightly biased, and entirely superficial. i'm sure you have your own examples - in fact now that i think of it, i may be better off giving examples from my own country, but i fear that there may be limited external generalisability. just as how that phrase may be lost to the linguists and questioned by the statisticians. and speaking of literature, therein lies more examples - one of my favourite authors (whose ideas have formed and moulded much of my youth), george orwell uses this as a recurring theme in his famous 1984 and animal farm.

let me not bother you with the details, and fall short of a pompous predisposition. instead let us direct ourselves to the intent of this post - what brings about such powerful shifts of allegiances? obviously, this is multifactorial, but i think one of the major things to consider is that of a common enemy. in the face of adversity, races, religious sects, ethnic minorities, political parties, genders, sexes, and even entire nations have come together to face their common foe. the wars i have listed earlier are but a large scale example of such things (other examples i would like to quote are the kkk, jewish holocaust, and the united bieber-haters coalition).

so, seeing as how jaded we have become, as a race, as a species; maybe it's time we had some common adversary? now i hear you screaming in rage - what of the deaths, the poverty, the pain and the suffering? well, humans have far outstayed their welcome on earth and has extended its guest stay from our host, mother earth (and its resources). we would do well with some cutbacks and i am not ashamed to have lives taken from us - in fact i would readily give my own many times over to see the greater good (assumedly) come into fruitition.

what we need is someone to make us all realise that, even in our great diversity, we are but the same. whites, blacks, yellows, browns. christians, jews, muslims, buddhists, hindus, shintos, atheists. men women, men-women, everything in between. you name it, we've got it and we sure as hell gots them unneeded animosity.

so pick your poison, have at your venom - zombie kittens? alien slimeballs? laser-eyed robot crocodiles? unicron diamond jesus? something we can all get behind to go up against. and if all of these never come? we can always band against the jonas brothers (this does not defy the purpose of the post, because they're clearly not human, or from this world).

what dreams may twist

2011-02-03T10:05:00.007+08:00

the good
i am diving in a pristine sea - clear blue-green waves and opalescent piercing rays of light. visibility is amazing as i surface to a sweet, cooling breeze; and i approach the shore. the shallows are inviting, with smooth white sands giving way to an unadulterated beach-head. there, i stall a while to rest, and am accompanied by young whale sharks.

really, whale sharks on a beach? wtf is this i don't even...

whale sharks on a beach (also known as bale-sharks, which are unrelated to christian bale). more likely than you think

i enter a chocolate parlour. an aged connoisseur welcomes me with a plate of the most exotic and extravagant chocolates i have ever imagined. with no inhibition or doubt, i sample the miniature marvels, and can only describe the ecstasy as a divine gift.

man, all that leonidas and food channel is really getting to me.

the bad

my teeth are falling out. this is unrelated to my chocolate-induced dreams. in fact, my teeth resemble more of a canine's than primate's. they are uneven, jagged, somewhat randomly distributed, and (what i can only describe as) rotting in their roots. my gums are blackened and fetid, with each tooth retractable and eerily dislocatable in their sockets - making easy the falling from my mouth.

why is my dream vision only of and about my mouth, and why do i have a feeling i am more an alien than anything else?

the world is ending. i would post about how horrible my experience in this dream was, but do i really have to? i mean, the world is ending.

the ugly

just to prove that i can never have a good dream that doesn't end abruptly with a horrible ending (god must be a fan of de maupassant, porter and shyamalan), here are the endings to my earlier 'good' dreams.

sweet maritime jesus, the whale sharks are eating my elbows off.

oh god, there is marmite-flavoured chocolate.

what real aussies use to brush their teeth.

death of a eulogy

2011-01-30T09:09:00.003+08:00

today marks the auspicious,
passing of blood and bone;
believe you not in the superstitious,
but black cats die alone.

tongues of flame,
kerosene-drenched hides;
dream molten steel,
and infamous bona fides.

i still cannot believe,
we birth not from hearths,
instead of fahrenheit,
we are from the earth.

revel in difference,
maturity of form;
to death we part sense,
from fortune's belong.

*modified from something i wrote in the summer of '04. it's not something i would be happy with publishing today, but i only have a couple of weeks of strolling down memory lane before reality starts pissing on my parade again!

the concept of causality

2011-01-26T18:42:00.011+08:00

there's been a death, in the opposite house,
as lately as today,
i know it, by the numb look
such houses have always.

this is the first paragraph of emily dickinson's famous poem relating to death and dealing with a death in the family. i write such as an introduction because it is the root of what has brought me to the following conversation - a mourning period in the family - and also as a tribute to a great person whom i had not known much of until the twilight of his years.

in any case, this post does not revolve around such incident, but instead is about various other things; from the scientific approach to causality to evidence and, interestingly enough, death.

let me set the premise, and how i will argue for and against the point - something that a lot of my medic friends will find familiar (and even slightly laughable) - 'smoking causes cancer'. now, this was brought up by my cousin, jo jackson, and my continual exposure to colleagues and friends based in the medical and biological sciences fields has given me a very biased take on the issue from the start. indeed, we have discussed this issue to the proverbial death so much, that nowadays i write with assumed knowledge that it is true. however, ask your local cigarette tender and he will beg to differ, and it is this take on the subject that prompts such an analytical approach today. again, let me state, though, that i may be biased academically, i am not at all socially - i believe it is one's right to smoke should one want as long as it does not infringe upon the health and convenience of any other (and this may lead upon an entirely different and tangential discussion, so we shall leave that for another day).

now, i structure my argument based on the spectrum of arguments that may lead us to believe that smoking does indeed cause cancer - this ranging from the very molecular basis to a near-purely statistical claim of causality. this is not a comprehensive list, but the very ends of a spectrum should, if anything, lead a reader to fill in the gaps himself, should he be inclined.

for those familiar with cigarettes, nicotine is the first drug that comes to mind - and here we first ask: what is nicotine? i'm sure you can click that wikipedia link and warrant your own discussion about what it is, but for our intent and purpose here today, the points i'm trying to get across are:

1. nicotine is an addictive substance.
2. nicotine in itself does not cause cancer.
3. nicotine's primary action is as a psychoactive drug, and mimics the action of acetylcholine (ach) at neural synapses. this point is more important to the more molecularly-inclined people, so for those who think this is over their heads, just understand that it works like a drug.
4. nicotine is found naturally in some plants, and the significance in drug addiction and adverse effects lies in its dosage (much like many other things).

so, nicotine in itself isn't a horrible thing (which is a common misconception in the 'cigarettes cause cancer' debate). however, cigarettes aren't made of pure nicotine. there's a plethora of chemical substances in cigarettes which you can google up yourself (yay for using google as a verb!), and you can narrow down their actions to a few major mechanisms:

1. polyaromatic carcinogens. aromatic compounds are organic molecules which have the benzene ring structure, though most of them are not directly benzene-derivatives. the mechanism of action here is complex and well beyond the scope of our discussion today, but there's more than compelling evidence that aromatic compounds can (and do) cause cancer. they accumulate in the cell nucleus and have complex interactions with dna (amongst other things), leading to programmed and unintended cell death. the whole crux of the matter is, a lot of the chemicals in cigarettes, some of which are yet uncategorised) accumulate in smokers' cells and cause them to mutate. a small proportion of these cells go on to mutate in a very particular way that leads to disregulation of the cell cycle, leading to mutagenesis and cell death.

2. reactive oxygen species (ros). interestingly enough, this point was not brought up in our conversation by yours truly, but by jo jackson himself! and, yes, it is a very prominent factor in the causation of cell cancers. for the chemically-inclined, these are radicals which have an unpaired electron, which is very unstable and tends to react with other chemicals. this is particularly devastating in cells undergoing division, and in cell mitochondria, where ros are carefully regulated to create energy for our everyday use. again, the pathways are complex and numerous, well beyond the grasp of my description today, but in a nutshell: excess ros, which are created in a smoking environment (externally, in the lungs and on the cellular level), directly causes carcinogenesis. bad news for everyone.

3. heavy metals and radioactive elements. now, i'm quite the fan of very loud music, but this is, unfortunately, not what we're talking about here. also, when i say radioactive elements, i'm not talking about some material that, upon ingestion or inhalation will give you spider-senses or an adverse reaction to kryptonite. nay, we are all at the mercy of modern science, and i guess this would be a good place to introduce the concept of radioactivity. radioactive substances are unstable isotopes of most day-to-day elements (and sometimes compounds), which will decay to their stable isotopes, and in the process, emit various forms of energy. cigarettes contain the radioactive isotopes of Po, Cu, Pb, and various other 2-letter words that you can probably come up with yourself and be right. in any case, they decay and emit gamma rays, which is kind of like having a continuous x-ray machine going off in your lungs. needless to say, that's cancer just waiting to happen (as i'm sure your doctor has told you the risks of being x-rayed continually, and in high doses).

4. direct gene regulation. ok, so i admit that this is a relatively new area for me, and i won't go on about it too much. a lot of chemicals (again, those found in cigarettes) have been shown to directly interact with genetic material and regulate their expression. what this means for smokers is that there is a complex modulation of your cells and what they do upon inhaling cigarette smoke. this could mean one (or more) of a thousand things, from reduced cellular respiration to increased cell division to creation of rainbow unicorns. only God knows what the hell is going on here but as any master chef can tell you, putting unlabelled ingredients into the wok is a recipe for disaster. yes, i've degraded to talking in analogies, so it's time we move on.

on the other end of the spectrum, which we are dealing with now, is the statistical correlation between smoking and cancer. it is important here, to distinguish between correlation and confounding. a confounding factor is one that effects both your exposing factor and outcome, while not necessarily having a modulating effect on the relationship between exposure and outcome. what the what what? wait, it's not that confusing, let us use an example:

let's say i did a study about drinking coffee and developing cancer. let's say i just took the raw numbers of what proportion of people drink coffee, and what weightage of these people go on to develop cancer. assuming i haven't corrected for any other factors, i find that drinking coffee predisposes a person to developing cancer by 10-fold... now this would be horrible news for starbucks. but, as with any illustrative example, this is not the case. i may have forgotten to take into consideration that people who drink coffee also have a tendency to smoke cigarettes (obviously, just for example). and that, it is not the coffee that causes cancer, but the cigarettes. so, in this case, cigarette-smoking is a confounder and has messed up my data set :(

okay, on to the statistical argument. the point here is that simply having a statistical relationship between the two (cigarette smoking and developing cancer) is insufficient. and, this is exactly the fall-back argument that big cigarette conglomerates will use to get out of a sticky situation (tar puns aside). that and the fact that smoking is a choice activity (keep in mind we're talking about a behaviour-modifying and addictive substance here, which i find to be counter-intuitive, or at the very least controversial).

anyway, how much statistical correlation will we need to prove an indisputable relationship between exposure and outcome? apparently there is no magic number, or even a sufficient one. as long as there are people out there fighting the cause that cigarette smoking does not cause cancer, there will always be a shadow of a doubt, rendering statistical correlation insufficient (though it may still be significant). let us not talk about p-values or how social acceptance modifies this, but instead, let me just put forward that, after reading countless papers on the issue, i think that it lies beyond any reasonable doubt that the statistical evidence is just there. however, much like any tenet and belief, if one believes something with such passion, there is no convincing otherwise.

anyway, i think i have ranted more than my fair share for today. i guess this isn't really what i set out to write - i was hoping for a more impartial argument on the topic but i fear that i have portrayed myself as an anti-smoking person (which i am, but that is besides the point). am i trying to preach to people out there the fallacies and dangers of smoking? no, i am not that holier than thou. am i trying to warn people from an addictive substance from which they may have no return? no, i believe people are more determined than that, and can bend their wills as they wish. am i trying to lay out the facts as they verily are? yes, but apparently i have not done a well enough job. am i trying to pique your interest such that you do your own unbiased research and come up with your own conclusions to be used for yourself (as opposed to trying to justify a pre-conception)? yeah, let's go with that one.

stupidly good

2011-01-22T20:03:00.003+08:00

i was a bit skeptical when my family wanted to sit down and watch an indian movie, three idiots. now, don't get me wrong, i have nothing against movies from outside hollywood. in fact, i quite enjoy a lot of foreign and sometimes, independent films (i think my personal favourite is amelie). however, bollywood movies have a shady track record with me, and i wasn't inclined to watch it over some other highly rated movies i had in mind. that being said, i am not at home much, so i didn't complain, and those 'highly-rated' movies have been quite a letdown - especially recently where i find hollywood movies are lacking that originality and panache that usually draws me to them.

in any case, three idiots was actually a pretty immersing film! i thoroughly enjoyed it and i would recommend it to any reader inclined to give it a go. it's not particularly mind-blowing, but i think the script is original (for what a language foreign to me can be), cinematography is up there, and you get all the classic bits of a bollywood piece (yeah, all the dancing, vibrant colours, sing-along-songs, etc etc).

i don't really want to comment on the movie as a whole. instead, there were a few particular points that really caught me and i'd like to touch on that:

1. academia as a business. now, for those who know me, you'd know my particularly utopian views on academia. how pristine and independent it should be; how holistic and thought-provoking it should hold itself. and for obvious reasons, i criticise heavily the holy motherland's ethics and practices, but that's for another day. in any case, the act of the dean churning out 1st classes or a's instead of thinking students is pretty much exemplary of how things shouldn't be done.

2. learn with passion, and everything else will follow. this is kind of the main character's dogma - he argues that one should be passionate about what one is learning, and the grades will follow. i am a big believer of this, such that it should follow that teaching institutions should design with this concept in mind to encourage self-teaching and exploration. discovery is the essence of tertiary education, and those pieces of paper known as degrees should not be currency for finding jobs, instead should be certificates of pride and adoration.

however, i thoroughly disagree with the main character's not practicing what he preaches. slacking off just because he is gifted is exactly what is wrong with many students nowadays (and i say this not because i am one or against that, but because it is true). additionally, encouraging behaviour that lead to his two best friends' failure to even pass (or barely pass)? yeah, questionable friendship etiquette right there.

3. true love, instead of settling. well, a bit of yes and no here. i like the whole concept of fated love. destiny and all that jazz. and the whole 'being able to be casual' around someone else is a definite thumbs up. but the movie obviously overly-dramaticises the concept. to the extent that it makes me facepalm. there's way too much going on for this guy that it makes me sick. kinda. well. a bit green there but you know what i mean. come on, no matter how much of a fatalist you are, there's no way a pretty lady is going to wait on you hand and foot for 10-odd years. and drop from her own wedding, ditching the rich bridegroom. then have a dream revelation come to life where she enacts the guy's very fantasy? yeah... that's pushing it. just no.

4. don't stop believing. ok so positive energy is a good thing. but portraying that everyone could get what they wanted in life is an old and tiring cliche. i would expect this from a hollywood feel-good movie, but seeing it here, time and again... especially in the context where even if you slack off in life, you can get where you always wanted. and then shove it in the face of the man. that's pushing it. still would like to believe, though.

the remedy

2011-01-18T21:23:00.003+08:00

the remedy for a broken heart, as prescribed by the ancient greeks (lies):

1. lots of chocolate
2. excess sleep
3. a good book, and
4. the company of a best friend

p/s: a best friend may be substituted for a prostitute or boy toy, if applicable.

proof

2011-01-11T13:04:00.003+08:00

as some may know, one of my favourite webcomics is xkcd, and the major theme(s) in the comic are, as self-decribed; math, love and sarcasm. today i'd like to try my own hand at a combination of these three, centring around the very basic mathematical and logic concepts of proof: induction vs. deduction. and of course, a minor take on love. with some sarcasm in the mix.

inductive:

1. we assume f(n) is a function of love or loving, and that f(n) = true for a given day n.

2. i have loved her from the first day i set eyes on her. that magical smile, that coy laugh, that pristine moment of epiphanous realisation of such outward feelings. i have loved her from day one, and so f(n) = true for n = 1.

3. i have learned to love her even more with every passing day, with never a dwindle, even in its slightest. hence, f(n) is true for today, as it was for yesterday, and will be true tomorrow as it is today. f(n) = true for n = n+1.

in fact, with the growth of such affection, it is even more true with each coming day, and if a numerical value were assigned to the function, f(n) < f(n+1) < f(n+2) < ...

4. f(n) is true for all values of n, where n > 0 (and is an integer, but never you mind that), and i will love her 'til the end (or at least until the set of n approaches infinity.

5. <3

deductive.

1. i love the way she smiles.
2. i love the way she laughs.
3. i love the way she she walks for miles.
4. i love when cross paths.

5. i love it when she cries (but only in my arms).
6. i love the way she shies away from my lack of charms.
7. i love how she brights my days, though how i do not know.
8. i love in so many different ways, the way she says 'hello'.

9. i love the way she dresses.
10. i love to hear her talk.
11. i love how she's such a good cook.
12. i love the swagger in her walk.

13. i love the way she likes the dark.
14. i love how she likes kids (even those who throw a fit).
15. question mark ??? question mark ???
16. profit.

...

it's not a complete list, but that's why i love her for every new thing i learn each and every day.

conclusion: i love her for who she is.

anally illogical

2011-01-02T21:57:00.004+08:00

a long time ago, i wrote (and preferred to write) in analogies, especially when it comes to real life situations concerning myself. this has the same reasoning i write in pseudo-anonimity - namely because i find baring myself emotionally is like walking down the street naked. that and the government may be out to get me.

though i have parted ways with this method, at least in the extreme version that i thought i would be writing till today, i have not forgotten it as a favourite modus operandi. and today, i revisit this little niche of mine, and though i do not in the slightest hope any potential readers will empathise or even understand, i do hope one would appreciate the attempt at exposing some little bits of personal tremblings in such a wide and scrutinisable medium. so here goes...

the good: it is interesting to think that our lives are slices in time of a finite state automaton, where each state is the result of interactions of a previous (or many previous) state(s). consider the following: if every condition we are in - every decision, every thought, every action, every reaction - is all pre-determined by previous states, then there goes human will, whoosh, out the window. and, as i have so easily elaborated upon before in this blog, with the loss of will comes the loss of authority and responsibility. which is an enticing prospect to me.

one can choose to make this very mathematical, very cold, hard and logic. or one can make of this something very spiritual - fatalism is, of course, the product of philosophy and theology, propagated by the human instinct to be aloof and irresponsible.

but this is not a very situational analogy.

the bad: think of a product on the shelf of a shopping isle. it is packaged badly, let's say in a drab, gray tin can. let's also give it a ridiculously high price, but place the price tag at a very hard-to-reach part of the shelf (and let's also say it's non-existent on the can). the product itself is quite bad - maybe if it were a foodstuff item, it is bland and tasteless, possibly even horrendous to some, though a very select few would use the term 'acquired taste' but to no avail. like brussel sprouts. horrible things.

for some reason you have the unfortunate luck of picking up such a can, and peruse it for some time. it is nothing compared to the normal brands you would buy, and let's say this is a particularly unlucky day for the can, which has been manhandled during shipping and is dented or even rusty at the edges. maybe some signs if the contents going bad, though you can't really tell.

just a look up a couple of shelves shows you better products which you can testify for, so why would you even buy this piece of crap? why is it even on display? why are the manufacturers still in business, and why the hell are you being bombarded with so many questions at once? demand great justice. for the sake of users everywhere. know your rights.

the ugly: that's a me-a!

the reality: think of a village idiot. what he can do in promise, he can only promise to do in reality. what he can do today, he cannot actually do tomorrow, and since he promises to do everything tomorrow (as he is obviously busy today), that leaves him with the (in)ability to do anything at all.

though i use the image of a certain someone here, rest assured this is a personal analogy at the end of the day, and i can only think it befittingly sarcastic (and quite the poetic piece of justice) that this will come around to yours truly eventually.

now let us commission the village idiot with a task of building an empire from ruins, and supply him with a tight budget, though we never scrutinise this and leave him to his own doings. promise him a home of his own choice in this utopian empire, where he has nothing to fear of, and everything to gain. and in him, we trust the future of our children and their children's children. what do you suppose can come of such an arrangement? surely not something the village idiot can fathom even for himself.

i leave you today, with this, and promise you never to make a similar post (lies), at least for the immediate future! toodles.

random quickie

2010-12-31T12:00:00.002+08:00

no, not that type. silly little internet pervs.

off to do some stuff, so here's some random thoughts i've been wanting to post about, but who knows if i'll have the opportunity.

1. meeting up with my friend last night, we were ~~b*tching about the government~~ talking about the politics and social structure of the country. still reluctant to be specific, let me direct you to the concept of 1[holy motherland] and his 2 cents on the topic:

i am a second rate citizen in my own country. f*kn boomies.

this is further made ironic by the fact that they're handing out citizenships to random immigrants. i mean, when illegal immigrants can have their kids become the president, and people who've been there for 5-odd generations, something must be very wrong. or very awesome. though i'm inclined to go with the 'wrong' thing.

2. somehow, we also managed to talk about ~~hot chicks~~ appreciation of women, and i brought up how white guys like asian girls, and asian guys like white girls (girls' preferences are complex, so let's not go into that. obviously being black has its perks in this matter because size is a big thing, if you know what i mean). anyway, according to him, this only makes sense because men do not know how to appreciate women of other races, which is why even though, for example, white guys dig asian chicks, the chicks that they end up going out with are not generally cute by an asian guy's standards. same goes with other races, male and female. i thought this was a pretty interesting thought at the time, and obviously writing a short paragraph on it has not done it any justice... oh well.

3. man, chocolate is so awesome.

4. nobel prizes! god, i've procrastinated on this one so much. they actually showed this on television (live and slightly delayed), so for the first time ever, you might have been able to watch the ceremonies! not that anyone actually watched, though. sadly i had to attend to stuff halfway through watching, so i only watched the peace and literature prizes, so i guess i'll go on about the sciency stuff another time.

5. holiday by the beach! lots of good food, but really nothing much besides that :/ ended up spending most of my time at the food stalls and in the hotel room because it rained...

this is pretty lacklustre, i don't think i really like these short update kind of posts. but never you mind that! off to do stuff!

tonight we dine in hell. on chocolate. mmm.

2010-12-26T01:18:00.008+08:00

i've been slacking since i've been on holiday. that means i haven't been jogging or playing football, and been eating everything i can imagine (that's yummy in my tummy mmm).

i reckon i've put on some weight, probably about 3 kilos. and who is to blame? leonidas.

wait, what? no, not that leonidas. the other one, that belgian chocolate brand.

every day i open those little chocolate-boxes and just pick the ones i like (all of them, obviously). my dad bought about 7 boxes or so? and now i think there's only 3 left. and nobody else in the house eats them besides me. how can you blame me, though! it's all full of chocolatey orgasm on a rainbow of yumminess.

btw these boxes make super awesome gifts (if you can bear to part with them) and i think they only cost 5 euros a pack or so? well that was on an extreme promotion or something, but still. i reckon they don't cost too much. anyway. can't type, gotta eat chocolates. damn you leonidas. damn you. this. is. FATTENINGGGGGG.

you're simply the best

2010-12-22T21:15:00.002+08:00

i wanted to write about the public transport today, for various reasons. however, something caught my attention as i was watching the news (which is a very rare occasion, mind you, seeing that it makes me facepalm 80% of the time, and roll my eyes the remaining 20%). so, today's story is about government and private monopolies. usually i am very pedantic about keeping things general, especially when it comes to ~~criticising~~ commenting on the holy motherland ~~because you can get in some deep sh*t for stepping on the wrong toes~~. however, today i make an exception because there are some blatant discrepancies between what's being touted and the wanting reality of it all:

the national kite, the wau. you are the best airline in the holy motherland. even though you charge prices ten times that of what your quality represents, you are the best airline.

the national animal, the tiger. you are the best bank in the holy motherland. even though you charge a nominal fee on every transaction (something that no other major bank in the world does, because it's just blatantly retarded), you are the best bank.

the swallow. you are the best postal service in the holy motherland. even though you throw away festive cards by the roadside because you can't be half-assed to deliver them (because nobody even notices, right?), you are the best postal service.

the positive-charged particle of an atom, you are the best car manufacturer in the holy motherland. even though you can only survive by undercutting foreign car manufacturers via the imposition of a ridiculous tax on them, you are the best car manufacturer.

telek*m, ten*ga nation*l berh*d, ind*h h2o, etc. etc. etc. you're all the best at what you do, even though you are full to the brim with corruption and inefficiency, with corner-cutting and absence of any form of ethics whatsoever. even though you ~~suck proverbial ass~~ are not up to the standards my high horse and i impose upon you, you're the best at what you do.

because you have no competition.

p/s: next time, we'll take a look at a user's view of a specific example - public transport.

all i want for xmas

2010-12-19T12:24:00.007+08:00

christmas in australia is during the summer. which doesn't really make that much of a difference, but just putting it out there. no snow? no big crowds? not really that much to do? that's pretty standard in perth. besides, i'm back home for the summer break, and even if i weren't, i'd normally be travelling (just seeing friends and the such, because travelling during the winter is awful. i'd rather just keep my cash and wait 'til spring break). but anyway, that's all fine and dandy. i wanted to post something christmasy but i am actually pressed for time (another wedding to attend! it really is that time of year).

so just as a preliminary, here's a wishlist of a few things i'd like for xmas. just a top 3. you know. nothing fancy. not like i'm hinting at something. just saying.

in no particular order:

1. an ipod.
i know it's not in fashion nowadays. i know i'm kinda behind the trend curve. but really, all i want is a classic ipod. not even the current ipod classic model, which has video and colour and everything. one of those first gen ipods. like so.

obviously they don't make them any more. but i just want something simple, and that being the point, i wouldn't say no to the current generation ipod classic. as for why? i spend a lot of time on the bus, or jogging, or just randomly walking from place to place, and for the most part, i find myself singing to myself or something along those lines. especially so when i can't afford to read or something like that (i have this motion sickness thing when i'm on busses sometimes. it's pretty random because sometimes i get it and other times i'm just fine and dandy. not the gay dandy).

why not settle for any ~~mp3~~ music player (i'm not sure they use the .mp3 format anymore? who knows?)? i guess i could. i dunno, maybe i've just wanted an ipod since way back when. but now that i think of it, yeah any player will do fine. all it needs to do is play my music. and not suck.

2. kindle
it honestly breaks my heart how little i read nowadays. i mean, i'm not a bookworm kinda person - at least not as much as some people are - but i do enjoy a good read. i find it hard to keep at one book, though, and nowadays it just seems my attention span is a little kid on a sugar rush. also high on lsd or some 'upper' designer drug. with coffee on the side. and adhd. going off on a tangent now.

anyway. when i can spare a respite from lecture notes and articles, i find myself bringing 2 books (or more) on the bus. currently it's 2 smaller ones, re-reading dorian gray and starting catch-22. but, yeah, i've also got this book on wwii and i'm looking to re-read lotr at some point... so that's probably as heavy as another laptop in the bag. do not want.

a kindle seems like a pretty decent option. it's not particularly pricey (i think? gotta check the current prices) and i can probably store a guano-load of books in there. oh, and i hear the battery time is pretty amazing. and, no to an ipad. horribly overpriced and just way overqualified for my means. although it might come in handy in the future... i dunno. no. must not give in to temptation. yeah, kindle. please, santa? i've not been naughty all year (lies).

3. umm. idk?
well, i actually only had the idea for those two items above when i started writing. and i hoped a third would come to me as the words flowed. but, no, not really. i can think of a thousand practical thinks i need, but i guess that's subject to debate. a phd scholarship would be nice. maybe something civic like world peace (not really feasible :/) or at least an attainable solution to famine? to the energy crisis?

nah. too self-righteous (and pretentious? i guess). maybe something a bit selfish. but not too much. like undying love or passion for something. or lots of money, hell yeah. i think i'm going to ask santa for a rain check on this one.

oh, and let's not forget the original(albeit tacky clip),

time is running out

2010-12-15T22:14:00.002+08:00

time is running out. it really is. it doesn't matter who you are, or what you're doing. you're probably just that bit too late. i think we need to be able to take a step back and just let the world pass us by, and not have to suffer the consequences for doing so. but that's all very idealistic.

more pragmatically, i think what we need is coffee. lots and lots of coffee. or maybe i should design a drug that enables humans to not sleep. which, now that i think of it, could be a horrid idea (because i am reminded of the x-files episode where there's this army guy who hasn't slept in decades and ends up with super powers, but when mulder tries this, he gets paranoid and ends up killing the guy).

adakah?

2010-12-13T21:33:00.003+08:00

membaca gurindam bernada sayu,
indah tulisan bagaikan permata,
adakah menjadi tidak melayu,
jika tidak berbicara bahasa?

datang si anak dari pedalaman,
datang tidak membawa buah tangan,
adakah sudah lupa daratan,
jika hendak mengubah pikiran?

tiada berwang, si anak teruna,
maka pulanglah ke kampung halaman,
adakah menjadi anak buangan,
jika bernikahkan gadis perantauan?

sudah dapati tiada berjaya,
maka kiaslah kais dan makan,
adakah betul si anak derhaka,
jika pada tuannya ia melawan?

sedangkan sudah segala dicuba,
sekarang cuma menanti balasan,
adakah betul pemimpin sentiasa,
jika rakyat sentiasa kelaparan?

tiada hasil, teruna berbalah,
dengan bapanya di kampung pinggiran,
adakah sesiapa patut disalah,
jika sekalian dalam kerugian?

ke muara sekali bersampan, sia-sia,
terlanjur sudah ke tengah lautan
adakah layak digelar manusia,
jika kan hidup dalam sendirian?

sesat bersama menampung berat,
sesat seorang di bulan purnama,
adakah bermaksud pantun empat kerat,
jika tiada sesiapa membaca?

going through my old stuff, i found this poem that i wrote who-knows-when. i found it flattering that i actually remember what it's about, and in context of when i wrote it, i was surprised to find that my thoughts have not changed that much.

the gist of the poem is questioning various issues; from the prejudice of gender, race, religion, skin colour and language; to the moral bankruptcy of positions of power (at the time and even moreso now, a government [which we shall not name], but also various other little napoleons). the poem ends with questioning the writer's intent (that's me!) of writing when such things cannot be changed with words, and whether we would be better off being fatalistic, or trying to change. i don't know which i believe in, now.

also, the first two lines of each stanza tell a metaphoric tale of person (son) venturing against tradition, only to fall from grace. he then has a fall out with his father, resulting in his leaving from home, only to be lost (out in sea) from which there is no turning back.

the last two lines read literally, and can be simple posed questions.

oh, and i believe that at this point in time, i was not in the fashion of using a couplet to end my (bad) poetry, unlike how i prefer to now. obviously i'd like to think that it's more complex than that, but yeah, that's pretty much all there is to it.

does not mean

2010-12-10T19:24:00.003+08:00

just because she shares your taste in music, does not mean she's the one.
just because she laughs at the things you do, and finds interesting the things you do, does not mean she's the one.
just because you both can talk, for hours on end, and never bore, and only separate ways because of necessity - not choice - does not mean she's the one.
just because she pours her heart, her problems, her very soul upon your ears and conscience and choice, does not mean she's the one.
just because you thought, that by asking God, he would hand you the answer on a golden-laced platter of dreams; and tell you that this does not mean she's the one.
just because you've tried your very best, and close to come off as desperation embodied, does not mean what you would have taken for granted, is all that there was to beseech in the first place.

nay, just because you believed, does not mean anything at all.

so, one should be wary of what one believes; of fate, of destiny, of divine intervention. and just let life take its course.

condolences to kay, and epiphanies for all.

death of the mamak roti (and other short stories)

2010-12-09T13:14:00.004+08:00

two days ago, i was driving down the road, trying to load, i've got seven women on my mind. wait, no. two days ago, i was driving down the road and i saw a sight that i had not seen since i was 15 - the mamak roti. now, i don't want to hear anything about being derogatory and all that, i imply nothing with this phrase, just that that was what we used to call the guy. for those uninitiated, the mamak roti is a guy on a motorcycle, and on the back of the bike is mounted a pretty big metal container. and in and around the container (or pretty much anywhere the mamak can spare) are loaves of bread. the mamak used to ride around every evening and blew his air horn and you could hear it 3km away. my brother and i would normally be playing football (not soccer, mkay) on the street with some friends, and we'd stop him when he arrived so mom or grandma could come out with some cash and get bread for tomorrow. sometimes we'd get the chocolate-filled buns or kaya-filled buns to take to school the next day.

i found out that it's not legal for the mamak roti to come a-callin' around these parts nowadays. how are you faring now, mamak roti?

when we were young, brother and i used to go to morning school. public school timetables were such that you either attended morning (8am - 1pm) or evening (2 - 7pm) sessions. this was the preferable option, as we then had the chance to spend the afternoons and evenings however we liked. this usually meant getting a group of peers and playing football on the road in front of someone's house. needless to say, it was very make-shift: we didn't use shoes, most of us wore the basic selipar jepun. some wore school shoes (you can tell they're the noobs, because this destroys your shoes and mom would get all pissed when you need new ones every 3 weeks), and some played bare-foot. this wouldn't be an issue on a field, except that playing in front of the house equates that hardcore bitumen road. not even the smooth tarmac stuff, it was the pebbly, rough tar road. you'd be thankful to have fallen on sand and scraping your knee, because if you were in a full run and fell on the naked road... man i remember needing stitches above my right eye for that. crazy kids. the goalposts were usually someone's gate (which over time would start gettin all loose, especially when the bigger boys played and went all out kicking the ball) or two bricks propped up courtesy of someone's house being built nearby. and there would always be arguments about if the ball had indeed gone into the imaginary goal or had flown above the (non-existent) horizontal bar. even more so for the short kids (who were forced to play goalie, hah!). we played on a slope, which makes for some pretty fun running uphill, and there was no side-lines bar the ball falling into the drains (or god forbid, the huge storm drain across the main road). man, if the ball fell into that, and you had to pick it out (because you kicked it in there anyways), you'd smell like crap for a couple of days. not even exaggerating.

to be continued...

my big fat malaysian wedding

2010-12-05T08:07:00.005+08:00

it's been a while since i've seen family, and it's always a good place to get back in touch where everyone is celebrating. off the top of my head, i'd place eid celebrations as most auspicious, followed by maybe chinese new year. though half my family is indian, diwali / deepavali isn't such a big thing. i guess mainly because most of them are non-practicing hindus (well, they still do a bit of celebrating, but it's really not as all-out as it was when i was a child), agnostic, or christians now. which makes christmas a bit more joyous, but hey.

it's all about the money - ang pau, duit raya, and just random bits of cash during diwali. i couldn't find diwali money sachets (which i don't think is part of the tradition anyway) so here's a picture of the next best thing - food. it's a savory desert known as murukku or chakkali. i didn't put one up of the sweet stuff because that gives me transient diabetes-induced comas.

most of my american friends say to me, 'what about new years? and christmas? and thanksgiving?'. yeah. we don't really do that. new years is pretty boring for me, because i won't even go out of the house. christmas is alright, i guess, and thanksgiving is not really something we get a holiday for, but once in a blue moon (maybe once in the past 4 years?) my aunt will get some turkey and we'll all sit down for dinner. but, never you mind all that.

anyway, one of those non-denominational events where it's always a blast is a wedding. chinese weddings, malay weddings, indian weddings, christian weddings, iban weddings - you name it. been there, done that, all awesome with a capital 'a'. which i should have spelled so. irrespective...

yesterday and today are my cousin's wedding ceremonies / receptions. unlike traditional christian weddings where there's one big church ceremony, and the bride and groom are off to who-knows-where, there's usually a small family event of 'akad nikah', and after a day or a week, there's the receptions where the bride and groom are 'displayed' on the 'pelamin'. most of my readers (all 2 out of 3 of them) are malay anyway, so i think you know what i'm talking about.

it's much less somber than the caucasian weddings i've been to. not as much drinking as the chinese ones i've seen. and the bride and groom are a lot more serious than in the wedding ones. but, as with all of them, it's the presence of family and friends in a social free-for-all that really makes the day. anyway, i'm off to the second reception today, and i can already tell it's going to be a blast. man, more of my cousins / siblings should get married while i'm around so i can meet the whole extended family (my father is the 10th child, and each of his brother and sisters have 3 - 6 kids each, some of who have kids of their own. that's just from my grandfather's 2nd wife... he had 3 throughout his lifetime, so the family reunions get pretty huge. and then, there's my mom's side...).

but yeah, one thing i noticed is that my brother and sister were supposed to be here, and i was not, due to some logistic issues. ironically, i'm the only one who's turned up and they're busy elsewhere doing their things. funny how that works out. but it's all good, i'll probably see them at some other point. oshi- gonna be late. etc out!

things that bug you

2010-12-03T20:35:00.009+08:00

i've been meaning to comment on the different types of pests i've encountered on my journeys in south-east asia, europe and australia. then i realised that it makes up a pretty long post, even for my standards. but, worry not, i have no intention of boring you with arachnid anecdotes and rodent re-hashes. instead, here are some choice comments on my take of aussie insects compared to more home-grown ones:

1. size does matter

double entendres aside, you should see the size of these things. especially the black ones. ahem. but really, people, i kid you not. in fact, the inspiration for this post comes from me getting into the shower one morning and finding a huge-ass black spider on the window. by the way, the window is located in the showering area, just opposite the showerhead. that basically puts me cowering near the faucet and showerhead, trying to perform some semblance of washing while keeping both eyes on the spider happily basking in the warm water vapour, about an arm's length away from my head. and my potential death. needless to say, stepping out of the shower, i didn't feel much clean.

i think my options were either stepping outside without having used my soap (which sits on the windowsill) or dying a horrible poison-induced death related to some sort of haemolytic anaphylaxis. i think i made the right choice.

getting bitten by this spider will probably not give you spider-powers. you're free to hallucinate that you're a superhero while the toxins slowly digest your innards into a slushy pulp, perfect for the spider's dinner.

2. attitude

ok, you're probably thinking, 'wait, what?'. just bear with me a bit. though the insects down under probably won't be all 'what chu lookin' at?', they will still be up in your grill. the flies and mosquitoes, i've noticed, are a good example, and if you ever find yourself in australia during the summer, you'll know what i mean. the annoying sons of ~~bitches~~ guns know no fear (or sense of personal space). in fact, aussie flies are so notoriously annoying at buzzing in your face, the term 'australian salute' is given to that futile act of trying to keep them at bay. it's okay, though - after a while it becomes second nature and you don't even notice yourself doing it. the mozzies are just as annoying, which brings us to the next point...

3. diseases

well, i am supposed to be an infectious disease student, so it's only natural that i spread my propaganda here. it's pretty logical that the different insects back home spread different diseases, so i'll give you the lowdown:

- no real chance of you getting malaria in australia (yay)
- dengue is pretty much eveerywhere (oh well)
- there's a couple of viruses you may never even have heard of outside the locality. ross river virus, barmah forest virus, and some wacky bat lyssavirus (yeah, yeah, bats aren't insects. still). they're all out there to get you. oh, random fact: the lyssavirus is pretty much rabies, but the australian government won't acknowledge that because they need to define them differently so that they can claim australia as rabies-free. whatever floats your boat, i guess.

they're only cute until they give you bat rabies. again, don't count on becoming batman.
- ticks are nasty things. they give you everything from lyme disease to babesiosis to (possibly) q fever. you don't get that nasty sh*t back home. unless your home is america, then you might want to consider rocky mountain spotted fever etc. anyway...

yeah this is getting boring. i just realised how much you could write on this because you could just find some obscure disease and do a checklist about it... so let's keep moving.

4. random batsh*t crazy stuff

ok if all this hasn't scared you off from ever visiting australia, rest assured that there's a jungle of creepy crawlies just jonesing to sink their fangs/stingers/spines/you-don't-want-to-know into your sorry @$$.

ever heard of the funnel web spider? top ten deadliest things in the world. they're actually a group of 30+ different spiders, but i don't think you'd be arguing about taxonomy when your life is slowly ebbing away and you start seeing that bright white light leading you to heaven (i'm assuming you've been a good boy/girl).

it's big. it's black. and you don't want it anywhere near you. (more double entendres)
not all that glitters is gold, not all that is going to r*pe your @$$ is going to be a spider (or insect). snakes, scorpions, platypuses and octopuses are all standing at the ready to turn your holiday in to the trip to hell you so rightly deserve (i'm assuming you've been a bad boy/girl).

i particularly like how pretty this one is. it makes me think 'ooo, how pretty. i'm going to touch the cutesy little octoplwwwooooooo (sound of you becoming a spactic-paralysed blob of goo).

well, i think that's enough for now. i can think of a few other points, but i think we all get the big picture now. what awesome killer creepers exist in your locality? ninja-assassin frogs? zombie kittens? cyborg tarantula jesus?

if home is where the heart is, then we're both just effed

2010-12-02T09:46:00.002+08:00

10 points if you know where those lyrics are from.

incidentally, this entry is written as i am sitting at home, having nothing to do. it kinda sucks that i'm here on holiday (kinda) and everyone whom i normally hang out with is busy working, or isn't around here. i guess everyone's gone and grown up. living elsewhere, having families of their own, jobs, kids... wtf.

i have to say, i feel very much left behind in all this, but that doesn't mean i'm getting bummed down by it. with all change comes good and bad, and i honestly like the way things are going for me (kinda). there's probably 3 or 4 things i'd like to have changed, but who can say they don't, eh?

anyway, with the coming couple of months, providing i settle stuff efficiently, i'm hoping to properly blog again, as opposed to the though-the-motions stuff i've been putting up for the last couple of months. it's been a very stressful time, academically, financially, romantically, personally and physically; and to be honest, i really welcome some relax time.

unfortunately for me, relax time usually entails watching movies, lurking the web, playing basketball and reading books - and i have no reliable computer (this old-ass mac is so old, it won't play anything), no reliable interwebz for lurking or gaming, no peeps to shoot some hoops. so i guess it's a trip to the bookstore later today to check out some books. it sucks that i didn't do this back in perth, because i personally find the choice of books back home very wanting. especially when it comes to classics. oh well, maybe i'll brave up and venture to the city for a bit. who knows?

also, on a side note, i wish a certain someone would stop breaking my heart :( and it's not kiki dee.