Honesty, The Best Policy.

Seriously. Somebody finally listened to the greatness of green
(photo courtesy of Kubuk)

Let's see what's been taking my fancy for the past few days ... sleep, lethargy, the computer, the stupid internet connection, the UGS New Year's Eve gathering. And War and Peace.

Brian's kitty is so dangerous cute! Who gave it the name Twinkles?

One by one, in detail:

Sleep. I seem to be doing less and less of it, which is ironic, because i had a severe shortage before and during the SPM. A few days have passed with me dizzy and irritated, unable to concentrate on whatever i'm doing.

Lethargy. I don't care about most things. No purpose, nothing to look forward to. I can't even understand what makes blogging so fun ages ago. Well, Utopia does count, but its not entirely soul satisfying. I need something more. Judo? Going to church and organizing stuff? Hmm.

The Computer. I've been lately spending a lot of time in Utopia and NFSMW beating blacklist rival after blacklist rival. I've not been spending time cleaning my room, writing short stories or thought provoking (mine, not yours) essays, or even working on my multiple writing projects.

The stupid internet connection. Murphy's Law hold true. Just when you think nothing can stop you from instant connection, a quake in Taiwan dispells all notions of an untouchable super highway.

I am very bored. Bored enough to compose manually focused shots in my garden.

The New Year Eve's UGS Gathering. It'll definitely be fun, but the lack of communication is making it hard to organize effectively. My phone bill has shot through the roof, and the said quake is so very messing things up. On the bright side the blog still functions well, although most guys i know don't go online due to uber lag. (I am exaggerating, but you can't deny even the graphics on this blog sometimes fail to load)

War and Peace. So strange, the name. Like Love and Sex. Or Macaroni and Cheeseballs. I first thought it'd be as tough to crack as The Water Babies (one of the few books i started and did not finish), but it is breathtaking in its sharp perception of human behaviour. And there's also Edith Wharton's The Age Of Innocence, a love story to beat all love stories (exclude Romeo and Juliet. And Sepet - oh i am so biased).

At any rate, you guys should all read Jylene's operating instructions, and Kubuk's review of the year 2006 from his point of view! So controversially honest it made me smile.

Standing on head makes frown into smile, but head is upside down. Have a smiley day.

Merry Christmas!

Going to first mass, st thom tomorrow - merry christmas everyone!

Kiran Desai's The Inheritance Of Loss

Loss is a word. Not an action; a feeling in shades of darkness. To say Kiran Desai's Man Booker Prize winning effort deals about loss is an understatement. The book itself gives new definition to word loss: all the characters lose something: the setting loses, their culture loses. In between highlighting the various guises loss can take Desai manages to slip in themes of globilization and white dominance, of loneliness as an unwanted foreigner.

The story opens with a teenager, Sai, living with her grandfather Jemubhai the Retired Judge, his dog, Mutt, and a cook. They sit around, the mist encroaching, nothing to do, looking forward to ... what? Nothing.

And on silent feet rebels approach their house, their aim the Judge's cache of hunting guns.

For a novel that opens so promisingly like a love story set in a period of insurgency Desai's novel quickly moves to state its purpose: I am here to tell about LOSS. Let us take a look at these case studies....

Yes, the content is like that of a text book.

Sai is in love with Gyan, her math tutor, and Desai's beautiful prose narrate their meetings with such innocence it pains the heart - awkward attempts to relate to each other, for the most part.

"Kiss me!" he pleaded.

"No," she said, delighted and terrified.
She would hold herself ransom.
Oh, but she had never been able to stand suspense.
A fine drizzle spelled an ellipsis on the tin roof....
Moments clocked by precisely, and finally she couldn't bear it - she closed her eyes and felt the terrified measure of his lips on hers, trying to match one shape with the other.

Each of the characters in The Inheritance Of Loss are scarred by the West and by white dominion. Jemubhai wants to fit in so much he creates within himself a class of cultured man hated by both Indians and the English, and so haunts him till his retirement his sins against his family. Sai's parents are killed in Russia, the cook's son, Biju, is lonely and poor in America, praying for a green card while forced to leave his ideals by cooking beef -'Indian cow holy, American cow is not holy'. Perhaps the single most telling paragraph of this theme is through Sai:

... cake was better than laddoos, fork spoon knife better than hands, sipping the blood of christ and consuming a wafer of his body was more civilised than garlanding a phallic symbol with marigolds. English was better than Hindi.

The book is a sad thing. The love story ultimately fails to find happiness, Biju does not find success in his endeavours, people are killed by the dozens in the insurgency, most of the soldiers 'living like Rambo'. There may arguably be no climax, but there is a turning point - when the Judge's dog is kidnapped (or was it dognapped, hmm) he is forced to repent for his sins, praying to a God, any God, whom he has cast away as an agnostic.

You have been warned. The novel reads like a case study, exploring themes, not concluding some, just exposing the characters in their pity and loss. I should have probably saved the money to buy something more useful, like a hundred bags of toilet rolls, rather than to read the slow slide to the starkness of the human condition. It doesn't hit you in the face with its majesty of a conclusion (Lord of The Flies or Lord of The Rings) but it does show you how eccentric these Man Booker Prize judges can be.

Go off and save money for the next Harry Potter.

Okay, My Turn.

It seems everyone's done their fair bit of advertising, and i guess it's only fair that i pitch in on Sam's, Kenny's, even Wingz good heartedness.

Undergroundsquare is a deep underground chamber for refugees like me and my friends. We come from all sorts of backgrounds ... being headbutting footballers, rappers rapists, and other nonsensical God Fearing Varmin.

*Stares*

Okay, no lah. We're a bunch of crap spewing teenagers who gather and share things with each other, the forum being the main medium of communication. There's also a blog, where i helped out a little with the layout and overall look (too black, yes?). It's a mode of relaxation we do online - some people chat, but chatting is only good if there are nice people to talk to ... in UGS there's a never ending supply of things to talk about, people to talk to, jokes to crack, games to play, and *gasps* even little nuggets of wisdom that somehow finds its way into nonsensical arguments.

Come over and bask in the fun. *i sound like a hippy* You know you want to.

To Kill A Mockingbird

It's been years that people have been pressing me to read this book. To Kill A Mockingbird is a classic beyond classics, a story that lives long beyond the era the author wrote it. But do i like it? Hmm. That one bears thinking.

The story is from the perspective of Jean 'Scout' Louise Finch, born to a family of 'background' (one concept prone to mention by her Aunt Alexandra, but one she cannot understand). Harper Lee peppers her main character with such wit, and her opinions are with such alacrity, it is at once impossible to imagine such an insightful eight-year old, and at the same time entirely acceptable (my, what quick kids they breed in the Deep South, you hear yourself mumble).

Her father, Atticus Finch, brings along a load of trouble when he takes on the case of Tom Robinson - a negroe who is brought to court on the charge or raping a white girl. While the case is certainly the main core of the narrative, Harper Lee weaves in two subplots (or more, but i can only think of two) and these do not help in any way the presentation of the story itself. The first is that of Boo Radley, a neighbour of the Finches that provokes such mystery as he's never seen outside. Ever. Naturally kids get curious and go poking about his property - Jem (Scout's brother) and Dill, a friend who comes over every summer, thinks of tiresome ways to find out how Boo Radley looks like. The second is that of old Mrs Henry Lafeyette Dubose, a monster of a spinster. Jem and Scout are forced to read to her after Jem wrecks her garden in a fit of rage, and it turns out they helped her overcome her morphine addiction, although a woman like that doesn't earn much sympathy with all the 'Nigger-lover!' yelling she does.

I guess the only reason Harper Lee put those subplots in was to pound in the message 'look at it from the other man's point of view!' again and again. It stays throughout the climax at the courthouse and the extremely long-winded conclusion, where Lee, thinking it isn't enough, takes the time to pound it between our ears again. And in the end my impression of the novel is diluted.

It is funny, laugh-out-loud so. It is startling in its moments of genius, where the author's wisdom seeps through.

After Atticus unwittingly reveals himself to be have one time been the deadest shot in Maycomb by sniping the head off a mad dog, Scout asks Miss Maudie why he never revealed it to them:

"Maybe if i can tell you," said Miss Maudie, "If your father's anything, he's civilised at heart. Marksmanship's a gift of God, a talent - oh, you have to practise to make it perfect, but shootin's different from playing the piano or the like. I think maybe he put his gun down when he realized God had given him an unfair advantage over most living things. I guess he decided he wouldn't shoot till he had to, and he had to today.

"Look's like he'd be proud of it," i said.

"People in their right minds never take pride in their talents." said Ms Maudie.

The tension builds up and it'll make you scream in outrage at the unfairness of it all, of how they believe in democracy, yet descriminate against certain classes. But in my list, it wouldn't be at the very top. I reserve that for Lord Of The Flies, awe-inducing in its conception.

It won the Pulitzer Prize. Libraians, better read people than me, i should say, think it is The Book Everyone Must Read Before They Die. Is it? You read it to find out.

Photo Mackerel

I couldn't resist when i saw the Ad outside Bangsar Village.

I almost look like a gigolo. Heh.

Festive cheer and booyah all those secular end-of-year holiday placenames. *Throws a snowball and runs off gleefully.*

Chow.

Back from KL into the Grey World

Before i start off i have to say sorry to Amanda and Paul and Wen qi.

Amanda because i couldn't help out in the children's christmas party.
Paul because i can't go choir with you.
And Wen Qi for appearing all depressed and about to give up blogging for good.

Yes, i've lately been losing interest. Its as if the SPM sapped every ounce of creative energy available and twisted it on me. I don't write, i don't feel like blogging in my personal blog. What for? Who gives a damn? Why should they care what i think and what goes on in my life?

I know, scary stuff.

Anyway, apart from the asylum-looking picture of my bedroom door from the corridor (i've been reading Silence Of The Lambs, by the way, and bear with me for a moment, but all i think of is Hannibal Lecter cooking someone's liver) i have to say that getting down to write this post is very difficult.

But not that hard once i've started.

Let's see. KL was fun. I find trips where i don't look forward to anything tend to surprise me and this is one of those. Lovely, lovely tralalalala. Bring out the mistletoe. Everyday was one shopping complex, the first being KLCC. Spent time in Kinokuniya, bought Ptolemy's Gate, and then finished the book while eating at Madam Kwan's, shopping for jeans and in the perfume section.

The second day allowed me to buy Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, and it was a good thing too, but i didn't read much because i was hunting for a camera, with my dad. Sungei Wang can be frightfully annoying especially if you can't tell which part is BB Plaza and which is not. Dang. Still. Got the camera - Exilim EX-Z700.

Look at the camera. Not the person.

The third was horrible. Spent the day in Sogo completely doing nothing. Clothes, perfumes, handbags. Not interested. Finished the 1000 page book in the various departments. Aaargh! Spoilt what would have been perfect armchair fodder.

After that i lost hope of finishing my reads. And you can see why.

A lot of books. Yes. See the blue one near the bottom? That's War And Peace. Something i've been dreading. And looking forward too. It'll be tough to plough through, but i bet it'll be rewarding, since i had to cavass three bookstores to look for it. What is wrong with Time and MPH outlets away from Mid Valley? Only want to stock Lolita and The Inheritance of Loss? Ish. Brainless zombies behind the counter.

And. Oh yeah. DO NOT BUY DEATH NOTE! Costs twenty eight ringgit and totally lives up to the tag 'letdown'. Bought the first volume to see how Shonen Jump Manga work. How it smells how it feels how the pages crinkle against the skin. It sucks. Download it and don't let the word volume fool you. C'mon lah! It's 5 episodes between the covers! Even the daredevil graphic novel i flipped through in MPH was 200 pages thick! In colour! With a proper plot! Hmm. Should've have bought Hannibal Rising or something.

Good bookses. Bad bookses.

After that we all moved in with a family friend for the remainder of the week. Aunty Nellie cooks the greatest food, Brian made us laughed with his spot on accents (i'll post them up when i can get Odeo to work), Celine made us laughed too with her chattering on about Boas. Ahh. This is heaven. Good friends, good food, back just after i got sick (no green hair yet, need to bleach. Haiz). Then Kenny Sia on the same flight back, blogging about Jayden. Well. What a holiday.

Merry christmas everyone!

Green Packing

I'm heading off to KL tomorrow, which means many things. It means i'll have to pack. It means not beating Izzy in Need For Speed Most Wanted (hey, there are people playing Mario out there, why're you looking at me as if i'm some kind of outdated weirdo?). It means leaving the forum to Kenny (who has trips and has problems) and Sam. It means finally getting down to the messy task of dying my hair green.

Yes, you heard me right. Don't look so surprised. Its something i've decided after form 3, and i'm going through with it (Flying Sheep, if you're reading this - you must dye your head blue as per our deal! Hmm. Not as if i'd have any chance of seeing you ^.^)

It's old stuff, really. My family are not at all surprised, since they've known what to expect for two years. They didn't even talk me out of it! (pinches self, nope - not dreaming). I wanted to see how people would react to me, and i bet the occasions a granma points in my direction and tells her grandkids never to follow that uncouth youth (it's rude to point, isn't it?) would be nice to blog about.

Yes, i'm taking a big risk here. Imagine me in the church congregation, sticking out like a sore thumb. Hmm.

But it should be fun. Else i'd be black for the rest of my life. Or bald.

And let's not go there.

Arashi

Got this from Abigail's frenster profile. She posted a shoutout recently.

"Shakespeare once said parting is such as sweet sorrow. I think he used the wrong adjective"


How true.

What i was doing on the first night after the SPM:

Oh, playing Dawn of War. Andrew wants to know what it's like, so here's a screenie of our match:

The SPM

You know how they say that a long wait just gives way to an anticlimax? Like a man imprisoned for 40 years, living on cigarettes and a carved picture of his wife gets out and then proceeds to ... figure out what to do. There's so many things. He could jump off a cliff. Or kiss a random woman. Or run in front of a car on the Autobahn and see if it bounces off his incredible outer shell.

Of course it doesn't. He ends up dead, in jail again, or dead. Which is why i chose to watch Casino Royale. But that's beside the point.

The first few days leading up to the spm was torture. I needed all the help i could get - support from Wen Qi with her its not too bad... is it? smses, to Abigail's last minute inspiring bible verses, to flipping through an old diary i wrote in early form 3, when the pmr was looming over the horizon. Gee, i sounder so ... young then. Like unwashed cloth hanging out to dry and catching the breeze from a nearby sulphuric acid spewing factory. And you know what i realize? A simple:


A load of things are running through my head now. I'll be planning to devoting my entire first week to UGS alone, seeing as the forum needs both its admins back for a rehaul and strategic direction. Plus the UGS blog. You members reading this listen up! We're not dying! In fact the stuff happening there are spreading in directions unseen by Kenny and i.

The rest of my holidays? I dunno yet. I'll be drafting a list of objectives tomorrow, after i clean up my room (you guys should see the papers everywhere! And the piles of notes i scribbled while studying! Urrgh!). I was thinking of reading shakespeare and listening to at least Mozart's entire oeuvre. Or Prokofiev. Or Vivaldi. Or at least every piano concerto i can get my hands on. That would be interesting.

Other than that? Playing DoW/halo and reading and coding, trying to be a more cultured (yeah right, who you're kidding?) person and finishing my latest project, most of you should know that usually means a novel. Plus now i have a free hand to join church activities, and play judo till i'm sore!

Maybe it wasn't such an anticlimax after all. Beyond gated hell lies paradise.

PS: An actual sms from Garrick the day before the SPM started:

Ced, what subject tomorrow? What time finish?

Ish.

The Farewell Dinner

Which was Tay being surprised he was part of the organizing committee.


Which was us helping Nicholas sing


Which was Kenny and gang trying to make our ears bleed.





I think it was fun.

Melancholy *slap*

I signed Abigail's The Looking Glass, stapled one doodle of her snoring in bm class, and then proceeded to read Paul's poem to her. Its amazing how long i've known the two cousins. One decade. Abigail loved pink, a colour i am genetically predisposed against, and Paul bit my arm. What a way to start a friendship.

My yearbook is filled with signatures now. From Tang's girlfriend wishes to Chin Peng my osotogari is better than yours neninenipupu, from Cikgu Lau don't dream of ants to Garricks wishes of the future, it condenses five years of memories, of character building and choices, friends, foes and the occasional blurb. Imagined how different it could've been.

I was given a choice by my father after the upsr.

"St Joseph or St Thomas?"

To tell you the truth i didn't care which, as long as there was no chinese.

And now, looking back over the years, i can't help but appreciate everyone in the school. Tay for being much, much better (see?! i edit). Kenny for being the much needed Rock to the class (perhaps he should be called Peter?), Paul for being The Psychologist. Aidan for being the sexually starved genius. Okay i was kidding.

What am i now? Still changing, the boy who didn't understand much bm at form 1, was mixed up with Paul and was thought to be an iban? Or am i a different person?

I like to think so. 14 year old me would've punched Goldon in the face when he boasted of how much he had done for the school after one particularly grueling add math session. But i didn't.

I think that's an improvement, don't you?

Neko And The Chair

This was originally meant for the Thomian Magazine, but since i missed the deadline, here it is for the rest of you to sample:

The cat had not left. It was there, curled up, lazily flicking its tail and regarding us the way a queen commands her subjects.

"Who?" I asked.

My mother pointed at my father, who hurriedly hid behind a newspaper.
"Alright," I demanded, "Who bought it?"

Both of them shook their heads. My mother wrung her hands in exasperation. "It followed us back from the flea market. I don't know how - but when I opened the door all I saw was this orange flash of fur and then -"

The cat genially raised a paw and started washing its face. The four of us looked at it again.

"It's in my chair!" Bill wailed, "Get rid of it!" This was unfortunate - my mother and father had recently brought the armchair back from one of the many flea markets they visited, and my brother was happy to finally have a spot to call his own.

"Do it yourself." I retorted, and I made to turn away.

But the pleading look on my mother's face and my father's bandaged hand made me stop. Bill took a step towards the cat. It looked up at him and hissed. Bill took a step back.

"What fish do you have in the fridge?" I asked.

"Salmon."

"Any leftovers?"

We brought it out and waved it in front of her. The cat closed her eyes and waved its tail, as if smelling a banquet of flowers.

"Here, kitty," I said, "Kitty kitty kitty ..."

The cat opened her eyes and shot me a stare that meant business. For a few seconds we both locked eyes, a battle of wills. Her green pupils dilated until it I was swimming in the blackness within.

I retreated.

Cat: 1; Family: 0

In the end we decided to leave it alone, hoping it would tire and leave. No such luck. My father turned to CNN, hoping to bore it to death, but when I peeked into the family room it was my father who was asleep and not the cat. To tell you the truth the cat seemed very interested in Israel's war with Lebanon.

"Lights out." My mother announced. "Jess, go wake up your father - We'll leave the cat overnight."

"What if it poops in my chair?" Bill wailed.

The next morning the cat was still there. We ate breakfast in the family room, in full view of her, hoping to tempt her out of her throne. She watched us, but yawned and looked away, waving her tail irritably. It was as if she was saying: "You can't fool me. The chair's still mine."

We gave up and went to school, with father driving and mother swearing revenge on the cursed animal - she sat in the front seat with the Yellow Pages in one hand and her Motorola in the other.

"Hello? RSPCA? Yes, I've got a stray ca - what do you mean you're full to the brim? Epidemic? Can't you just - but we need - oh drat."

And it went on like that for the twenty minutes it took to reach school. Apparently some pet sickness - feline influenza or whatis - was making its rounds in the suburbs and holding up every animal related organization within a 10 kilometre radius. Mum was dialing the number of the sixth vet when we reached school and I reluctantly left the car, although feeling as frustrated as my mother.

I believed the scoreboard read: Cat: 2; Family: 0.

It didn't help that Math was the first period of the day. "Did you know there's going to be a cat show at the Civic Centre next week?" Michelle asked, looking up from her trigonometry.

"Don't talk to me about cats!" I snapped back, mind still preoccupied with the domestic crisis back home. Michelle looked hurt, and immediately I felt horrible for lashing out. I forced myself to relate the whole story to her from beginning to end.

Michelle chuckled when I finished. "Mind if I follow you back home?" she asked later, "It should prove interesting to try and get rid of her ..."

When we got back, Michele and my father and I were treated to high pitch yowling, punctuated with several human screams. It was like a horribly constructed comedy: a man ran out of our front door, pants in shreds. Our gazes followed him down the driveway, out the gate and into a van - which promptly revved up and shot away.

Mother was at the doorway, "And he was the only vet we could get hold of ..." she sighed. "Jessica, get a broom and follow me in - we've got quite a mess on our hands."

She wasn't kidding. After removing four cushions, broken pieces of porcelain and the ripped canvas of a painting (all the while under the benevolent gaze of the cat, who by now was cleaning her claws), I had to admit the score was 3 to nil, in the cat's favour.

"You know," Michelle commented as we cleared the room, "You're lucky most of these ornaments are second hand, otherwise your mum might've injured herself attacking the cat."

Michelle wasn't being blunt nor was she being rude. Both of us knew that my parents loved visiting flea markets, buying good furniture at unbelievably low prices. Bill's chair, for example, cost a fourth of its original price.

We spent the rest of the afternoon doing homework and only half-heartedly tried to lure the cat away - after seeing her in action with the vet we had no desire to rouse her anger. Our feeble attempts were met for the most part with the occasional flicked tail or a long yawn, showing white fangs.

After Michelle left the entire family ate dinner in the family room, although there was little hope of getting the cat to budge. It slept throughout our meal and we followed suit two hours later. We were all quite exhausted.

The next day brought good news. It turned out the evening before father had slipped out and placed an ad about our problem in the Morning Post. An old lady had called in the morning and told him that she was coming around 4 to see if the cat was hers.

"Orange markings, wild look, very ferocious?" she had said over the telephone, "Sounds like my Tootsie!"

Our hopes were up. I told Michelle about it during English and we both waited impatiently for school to end. But there were a few things that occupied my mind. For example: how was she going to get the cat out of Bill's chair?

We were soon going to find out. Michelle and I spent the afternoon trying to make a dent in the History homework our teacher had set us, while munching crackers, keeping an eye on the clock and stealing glances at the now very hungry cat. She gave haughty "mrauf!"s each time we took one out of the tin.

At exactly four an old van drove up to our house and the doorbell rang. My mother hurried to the door and opened it to reveal an old woman with greying hair and even, white teeth. She was smiling warmly at us.

"Hello," she said, "Where's Tootsie?"

We led her to the family room, where she gave a cry of delight and launched herself at the cat. We blinked; the cat was on her lap and the old lady was in the chair.

"Do you know this chair belonged to me once?" the woman said, stroking the armrest with one hand and the cat with the other. "It's Tootsie's favourite. The poor girl must've hunted it down after it got stolen a month or two ago."

"You haven't seen her for that long?" My mother asked, awed. "I got the chair at a flea market - I never guessed that it was - "

"Not to worry, not to worry," reassured the old lady. She got to her feet and put Tootsie back in the chair. "I'll pay for it and reimburse you for your trouble. Then let's lug it into my van - oh you poor girl, I've never seen you so thin ..."

The conclusion to the crisis seemed near, so Michelle left for the toilet at the back and I went to find my father. Both my parents carried it to the back of the van and we stood waving goodbye as the old lady and Tootsie drove off.

"Well." said my mother as we went into the house again, "All's well that end's well, I suppose."

"And to think that the cat traveled all that way just for one chair -"

At that precise moment Michelle came in from the toilet. She was pale and shaking, and we all paused to look at her.

She struggled to get the words out: "Do you - by any chance - keep a python in the aquarium at the back?"

*Neko means 'cat' in Japanese.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 2.5 License.

Two months ... it think

There is so much i want to blog about, but probably can't - like the UGS gathering that wasn't to be (and Wandkey's dissapointment and anger at me calling her Wandkey *sniggers*). There's the childhood friend of mine that just passed away two weeks ago, in an extremely scary way - much like the stuff you see on Urban Legends, if there exists such a movie. And then i've been going to Judo for intense sparring sessions, gearing up for the team event next thursday; there's a very funny friend i met up at the Sri Sarjana seminars who is stalking Samantha (and a good part of the UGS forum, if i may add); there's the kid we used to spar with at the dojo but now has lost his mind, and then went around St Thom before the hols, looking for Tang. Plus, there's the National Junior Judo Championships, in which Desmond got defeated 8 seconds into his bout but a brown belter from Melaka.

All of this can be full, fleshed-out posts on their own, but the fact is i don't have the time. Heck, i'm not even supposed to be writing this - the SPM is only two months away!

So wish me luck in my studies, pray for me, whatever you think is good. Grant me wisdom, peace and the occasional free ice-cream.

Just don't kill me for not blogging - thankyouverymush.

Eli out.

When you finally get a mike

Got a new mike for the com at the PC fair. There were actually pieces of ash floating down as i walked there, but such is life during the haze, yeah? PS: here's a clip of my sis finding her inner chewbacca.

powered by ODEO

I, Kakashi

It happened like this: Tang and i were sparring. I'll not pretend i was good, coz i wasn't - Tang is now aeons ahead of me in technique and was ignoring all my combos. Threw me twice with Tai-otoshis. I was pissed, so he decided to use a different attack for the third - a low seoinage that had to be forced to break my defence.

I heard Vincent uttering, "Don't force ...."

The world spun around me and i realised horribly that the throw was too vertical. I landed, perfectly fine - but the only problem was the Tang was flying too and his shoulder - bearing his body's 55 kilograms of force - smashed into my face. The only thing i could do before he hit was to close my eyes.

I saw stars.

When i opened my eyes again it felt weird, and Chong's face was inches above mine. "Wow." he said, "Kakashi ..."

A sharingan popped into my minds' eye, followed by images of scars and Chidori. I know - irrelevant. Tang appeared on my right (i was lying down, looking up at the ceiling) and he said "Shit, scratched ... Sorry ..."

Seconds later Hong Eng appeared, said something about Captain Jack Sparrow and went off, looking for her camera phone.

She took a picture and handed it to me, allowing to see for myself what it looked like.

It looked a lot better than i felt. Anderson handed me an icepack and i lay sprawled on the Tatami mats, with everybody joking around me ("What would his mom say - you deface him like that?" and "See lah - force a throw again ..."

Hmm.

Desmond tried to mimic the scene in which Obito gives Kakashi his sharingan. I threw him with an Osotogari, and we both fell to the ground laughing.

I don't think Desmond's eye is any special, anyway.

PS: Apart from me stumbling through my grade 6 paino exams on Friday (10.11am) and the Sarawak Club burning down, my week has been quite uneventful. I think. Show's you how dangerous being a teenager really is.

Death Note

National Service

I'm not in, but how i'd loved to go! It was quite a surprise, though that Kok Wee and Paul got it. They're really going to have a good time. Sigh.

Osotogari

(Joash and Dom and the rest are going to Judo on Sunday! First ever lesson! Good luck guys ...)

Top 10 ways to love St Thomas's

This is for the lower six who are having difficulties adjusting to our culture. You may print this out and pass it around, if you feel compelled to do so. I don't have a creative commons license on this page, after all.

So, on with the list:

1. Pretend to listen to the Principal's speech during assembly, but concentrate on his (or Mr Chai's haircut. This prevents you from fainting in the heat.
2. Bellydance to the Negaraku played every morning.
3. Necklaces are not allowed in case of fights. That being so, twist the aforementioned tie, kad pelajar lanyard and Thomian belt and use that to choke when needed.
4. Since an integral part of Thomian culture is greeting every teacher you meet, wear big neon stickers over your chest (and tie) screaming "Selamat Pagi Cikgu!" so you don't have to say anything.
5. Use Thomian ties as pacifiers.
6. Forget free will, free thought, freedom of expression. Of course, we Thomians have figured out a way around each of those, so here's our remedy: To have free thought, we vent our feelings in blogs and Undergroundsquare. To have freedom of expression we stick Hello Kitty emblems on our undies. To have free will we strut around school looking important, when all we want to do is to go to the toilet during class periods.
7. The Devil does not wear Prada. The devil wears blazers and carries a purple diary.
8. Boys should hold seasonal peeing matches in the toilets - in accordance with the school motto 'Aim Higher' and also with the hope of winning a firefighter scholarship.
9. St Thom is the habitat of a special type of homo sapiens. To preserve sanity concentrate on task at hand and remidn yourself that sitting on each other is perfectly normal amongst this species.
10. Do not get aroused during spot checks. They will think you've got a handphone between your legs and use tweezers to extract it.

Seriously, though. It is our sincere hope that you guys see that we're not so bad - that personal discipline is just a way of life that you have to get used to. And that we're pretty open minded and (at least i) won't kill you for writing amazingly good poems about ... things.

Oh, and one last thing. If you think we Thomians are not assertive, are bagaikan kerbau dicucuk hidung (i think it goes like that) then read this blog slowly. Our arguments for money, our arguments with untransparent teachers and personal arguments agaisnt politics, the media and the weirdness of the school are all here, and its too bad Kenny's old Xanga spot got pulled down before i saved the XML files, or you'd have those to refer too. Wish all lower 6 out there the best.

Prefects

Nobody respects St Thom for our academics.

Let me repeat that, but with a different twist - since academics is the core business of schools, then ...

Nobody respects St Thom.

I hate that perception. In almost all tuitions i go i'm the sole ambassador for my school. I get ridiculed by Mr Lee in physics tuition. Paul gets belittled by Green Road Idiots (GRI? Hmm.) and he makes them all hate him when he beats them (haha!). Lately the only person to slowly change that perception is Genius Aldrin. He actually makes me proud in the way his name commands respect amongst some tuition teachers and students (not so nice is the way every other thomian has to match up to him - an impossible task). Otherwise, like Mr Lee says ...

"2 straight As! Hah! Sekolah di Bau pun ada 2 straight A!!"

*Class laughs at me*

We live in a society that places too much emphasis on academics. You study, you fight for a scholarship (which everyone knows is based on race and skin colour, not brains), you climb the corporate ladder. How sad. If you're lucky you break away and do business, but so what? Our politics and business spheres are interwined, corrupted to an extent and also very much biased by skin colour. We are proabably the only country where dark is better.

Welcome to Malaysia, third world country.

I love it and pray for it everyday.

Now you know the setting for this post. I am going to talk about a funny paradox in my school, and i wonder why i didn't write about it sooner.

The teachers want to push our academics. They are dedicated. The best students are usually prefects. They become better (responsible ... etc ...) under Ms Chong. The teachers resent the prefectorial board for eating up our potential to be superb students. And yet they themselves rely on us so much. A friend of mine, for example, has to organize English club activities, do websites for science labs, is delegated duties from under-managed teachers, and worst is that most of them only worry about deadlines. Selfish, selfish. And yet he still doesn't want to say no. The teachers thus resent the Board even more, coz now our academics are like long-dead flowers, choked by the thorns of teacher duties, competition and prefect stuff.

So let's take a look at the priorities -

1, Academics - Non negotiable. Must do well.

2, Prefectorial Board - If we drop this the famed discipline in St Thom dies out. Then we don't have disipline, and we don't have results. Might as well blow up the school, yes?

3, Competitions - No choice. This is both for the school (honour and glory?) and also for personal development, even if it turns you to an emotional wreck and gives you nightmares for weeks after.

4, Teacher projects - they delegate to you, it chokes you. Can someone please explain to me why the hell they don't ask non-prefects? Instead they ask us and then blame the Board. Seems to be a popular trend these days - blame the Board.

And i agree. It is not a baseless claim. A friend whose dad is in the education ministry says it is widely known we are a show school. We are all fireworks and beautifully kept lawns, but we suck where it matters. On the other hand, our feeder schools are as good as the mud from the Sarawak river (read:milo water) and we do a pretty good job considering, since we manage to get good passes every year (note: passes means Ds, so more Ds means more happy Datuks ... ^_^) But we can still do better - our top students are being choked. Admit it guys, our results sucked for form 6 last year. It could be the students' own fault, but to completely rule out the prefectorial board as being responsible is just plain dumb. For something as mundane as a form 6 orientation we have 2 rehearsals. For the teachers day we plan two months (or more!) in advance. Not to say it wasn't great - it was akin to the opening of the commonwealth games. I was very proud to be a part of it, as the master of ceromonies. But my god, one WHOLE WEEK spent staying back after school, and the SPs and SSPs staying until 11 the night before to do the helium balloons.

Ridiculous.

Shirts!

Thank God Vince managed to design the St Thom Judo logo before his shoulder konged out. I did the rough drafts earlier on in the week, (brushing up on my rusty drawing skills - as an entirely average guy i am only good at drawing big robots or trees >.<'''). Vince did the final draft, Wilson enlarged it and i coloured. Garrick ran it through a scanner and presto! Flickr status!

For those who don't know, its a tai-otoshi imposed over the thomian badge. Vincent insisted on putting a cross behind, and it was all sufficiently abstract for my taste. Now that we've the logo (and if that ****** forgetful Desmond finally remembers to bring his digital cam) we can have some pretty high def photos of us throwing. I am sincerely happy with my Osotgari - the lower level black belters have nothing to say, coz its near as perfect for my (their?) level.

In other news, i can't wait to retire as a prefect and go back to couch potato/studious nerd status. Cikgu Yusof now knows about Thomian Online, and i recently took the opportunity in f2o free registrations to apply for a tentative Undergroundsquare blog. And i can't wait for a blasted session with a certain bloody rude student - took all my self control to not throw him and break his arm/wrist. I couldn't even concentrate in Add Maths for two days - pictures such as the one below keep resurfacing in my mind, and i continously remind myself i looked like a coward.

I've been training for one year for situations like this. If he had gone all out and kicked me i might have second thoughts, but c'mon - he friggin pushed me! That's my territory! We push every single week in the dojo, and then we throw!

I am a total idiot.

Ish.

PS: This blog post was actually intended to ask for help on how to design and produce t-shirts. Need at least 25-30. Please post comments.

Bad, bad news.

Garrick met up with me outside 5s2, me on the way back from tugas. The initial recruitment of lower 6 judokas had gone smoothly, but the last training session had seen a few bad things happen, with all of them watching. First, I go knocked off my feet by a way-off morote gari by Garrick. Then i couldn't last five rounds of sparring. AND then i forgot how to do a proper arm breaking technique.

Okay, that wasn't bad. This is:

Vincent broke his shoulder. Again.

Tang is feeling bad, because it was his Tai-otoshi that injured Vince. The St Thom Judo Club compassion machine is in full drive, with everyone counseling Vince and Tang and wondering who the heck is going to represent Sarawak in Vince's place. I, for one, am more worried about his current state, and the inter-team comp coming up in September.

I am also slightly unnerved that something like that can actually happen. With all the safety clauses built into our techniques, its very easy to forget that Judo, while a sport, is a martial art at essence. I'm also slightly guilty - although none of them know this - since Anderson asked me to throw Vince with my Osotogari, without the protective action at the end.

This meant full competition/self defense force. The throw was powerful and beautiful, but what if it loosened or set up the later injury? How can i forgive myself? I mean, Vince has been training for two years to represent the state in the Nationals. If there's anyone who deserves it it's him - he's been the most dedicated student in any sport i have known personally. He has worked so hard.

And now he can't go.

Life can be so unfair.

Untitled

Odeo: The French Song

I know, i know i said i would not blog, but hey, i got a few things i just have to share (oh, and expect posts on the upcoming team judo competitions in September (i'm second player for St Thom)). Anyway, i checked out Odeo (to look for ways to put up a weird idea of mine *coughcoughugspodcastcoughcough*) and i found this singer - only 17 and she records in her bedroom (i think, never checked). Such talent!.

Check out her song (click the link lah )

PS: This post is only made possible with Flock, coz blogging is just a click away during surfing ^_^

I am stopping blogging

At least until after the SPM. I know, i know, it sucks. But perhaps allow me to explain?

I have five aims for this year, or five categories to acheive in and improve myself in:

1. God - i aim to draw closer to Him and continue to explore my faith.
2. Academics - As the other activities of my life is regulated on this aspect, performance in this area is more of a need than a want.
3. Judo - If i miss any more classes my already lacking form will continue to fade. I cannot let my Osotogari development trail back and force me to start from scratch again.
4. Piano - If i don't pass the grade 6 examinations i will go on a killing spree.
5. Online activities - Like UGS, Janus and the like. I know, i know, i promised to finish Janus, but the problem is this area of my life seems to be eating too much of my time that all other aspects (with the possible exception of No 1) is suffering. I am suffering. And, besides, UGS seems to have hit that stage where it is self sufficient. Though not perfect i'm sure it'll last without Kenny and i constantly pushing and pushing and pushing. All it needs is that snowballing momentum required for insane growth. I'll leave that to Kubuk and Sam and a few others.

I have really enjoyed the online part of life this year, and hey, i won't be gone for long. Just for kicks, let me do one last tag:

6 friends

• You once nearly broke my arm. I once injured your shoulder through 'impolite' throwing. You're always there for the teammates when we have particular stamina, technique or personal issues. Although you came from a modest background you've risen above it all in your grit, your determination and your will to succeed. You and i share a common frustration that is the inability to use our Tokuiwaza during competition. I wish you the best in whatever you do.

• You're in med school, cutting up cheap indian cadavers. Okay, you tell me, not yet at that stage. You're great with kids, you taught me how to control a crowd with a look and a few choice (very polite) words. You taught me to keep my cool in all situations.

• You are spread too wide, and too thin. You lack discipline, you sometime lie. And yet your unwavering loyalty to whatever relationships and friendships come your way is remarkable. You are starting to learn how to drive, and i believe you missed a lot of training sessions. I am still learning to appreciate you, a true friend.
  

• You and i have a rocky past. We both come from similar backgrounds, but both of us are as different as peas in a pod. You are observant and withdrawn, i am the self proclaimed rock star. And when we talk, our conversations range from deep Christian theology to basic psychoanalisis. For those of you who think we're geeks, you're right. Not. He represents St Thomas in the MSNS. I judo. 'Nuff said.

• I believe you never thought much of me in the early forms in St Thom. The language barrier sometimes seperates us from the lighter stuff, but we frequently share deep insights on life. You are highly melancholic, and an amazing leader. I am priviledged to work with you, and to give my opinion (sometimes - no, make that most of the time - daft). You probably know who you are.

• Last, but definitely not least, you are too far away, over seas and mountains (and God knows what else) to connect with. You taught me that Christian concerts rock. I wish it was just infatuation, and sometimes it is, but sometimes it is also something deeper. To quote a certain song by James Blunt:

'I can never be with you'

There. That's done.

Dove sono i bei momenti?

Consummatum est.

Prefect Selection Begins

Today, Chin Kai and the various people in charge of Group 1's project - (the prefect selection, for you non tomyams out there) gave out little forms for us to send to every class, much to my amusement. We were supposed to make a sales pitch, on Why You Should Become A Prefect And Write Your Name Down And Be Assimilated.

My USP was the Sabah trip and that the next administration would be planning to go to Singapore. Paul helped me out and we went to 4s3. It went something like this:

Boy sees two prefects coming and shouts "Tutup pintu!" jokingly.

I kick open door.

One of them shouts "Gengsterli!" at which paul replies, "Nanglah Kami Gengster."

I laughed and did the intro, emphasising "Jika kamu semua nak join geng kami ..." that Paul started.

Someone shouts, "Gengster apa?"

I pointed at my coat and replied, "Gegster ni lah!"

The class quietens, long enough for someone to ask why they should join us. Paul smiles and says, deadpan, "Kami mau pencenbah."

The class offers its sympathy. Paul takes advantage and cuts the chatter, saying: "Kimun siapa mau join gengster kame, tok rang isi nama tok rang kat kertas tuk."

I but in, talking about Sabah and the plans for Singapore, and Paul says, "Kami pergi Sabah, pergi sini, pergi sana, macam-macam ada."

He realizes the stupidity of that sentence and laughs. We laugh along with him.

"Germany?" One boy asks.

"World cup dah habis masa tuk," i replied.

We strut out of the classroom, wondering just how we managed to pull that off in a school famed for its discipline.

New prefect generation: Gengster.

KadazanduzunMurutRangus-ed

Back from Sabah. I'm unfortunately (or very fortunately, whichever way you see it) not going to blog another series, since i just couldn't sit down and write properly. The flights made me dizzy, the rest periods at night was full of report writing and recounting events for the teachers. Later still was the World Cup, in which we screamed and cheered for the Lahm goal in Germany's opening match.

Anyway, we arrived at sabah at around 10 - but i'm not too sure because i was in a altitude-induced daze. Quickly got introduced to Mr Chris Lo, who was going to be a great gift and a great bane. He talked. A lot. Not good when you're tired most of the time and have to force yourself to listen or up 999 steps.

I enjoyed the trip. Loved it, even. Liked the Ransangan from the Murut longhouse, and then loved the bus more than the following visits to a chinese temple. I only have time to recount a few favourites, like the trip to UMS:

It. Is. Beautiful. A huge uni overlooking the sea, on hilly terrain. There's three basketball courts, an entire jubille ground-equivalent stadium, swimming pools and bus stations. Yes, you read that right. The students take 'free' buses to their classes, since the uni is so damned big. The fleet of UMS transport are all blue and the buses move around in a great big circuit. Gardeners are everywhere, attacking the weeds with gusto. Roads are clean and big. The view of the sea from the Counselary is amazing. I, for one, went through the entire area with my jaw firmly open (if there is such thing).

Another thing i like was the handicraft market - bargaining and watching my friends bargain is nice and extremely satisfying. I had forgotten you could actually bargain at the beginning, and thank God Kenny helped me out. After that i tagged along with other groups, grunting for effect when Kenny was buying keychains for UGS members, and then freaking out a shopkeeper to help Della get a huge amount of souvenirs for the afternoon session boys at a discounted price.

Sweet. Unfortunate that i had bought mine for way too expensive a price, but i learned a lot from the others. Hehe.

I wonder about something, though. While i really enjoyed the experience, i was not part of any group of friends (except possibly with Kenny, but he has his personal moments too). It could be the language barrier, but i didn't have much fun just listening to most of the others talk about inconsequential things. If i tried to bring up topics that mattered to me, i'd get ignored, for the interest in things like Ti Shyang being a recycling machine and whatever. Well, it doesn't matter now - i didn't take it personally. But now i realize how important my close friends are. Who are the people i am most comfortable with?

Good question. Isaiah 2:22.

Off To Pack

Going to Sabah with the rest of the prefects tomorrow, and you bet i'll be blogging (on paper - whoever heard of free internet access in our airports?). Oh, and if you're wondering, the above words mean sorry in Jap. Filtched it from Postsecret.

Dojo Memoirs

I better write this before my memory fails me and school hits me again. Yes, its about Judo - if you're sick of me harping about the sport i love then go off and read something more interesting.

Now, where was i? Oh, okay. Judo. never made a proper introduction to this sport when i joined it more than a year ago (and with only five people to a class. Now? Good God.) It had been newly revived and i was several months behind the other four -Vincent, Tang, Desmond and Garrick. That being so, Sensei hurried me through white belterhood and (to my friends's everlasting horror) i was upgraded to yellow within a month, knowing a total of three throws and forgetting every pin he ever taught me.

These days most beginners know five throws, five pins and are hell of a lot better than i was. No matter, i tell myself, they can't throw me (indeed they can't, although in katamewaza (pinning, grappling on the ground) they have a distinctive strength advantage, forcing me to engage in all sorts of unorthodox armlocks, chokes and tickles which i shall not go into here)

By my second month (in stark contrast to beginners now) i had chosen a tokuiwaza and was working on it. Let me explain, so if you have the misfortune to read one of my Judo related posts you will understand what the heck i am saying (Sam, you should do the same - i am hopeless when it comes to badminton terminology).

A tokuiwaza is a favourite technique. Judokas pick one and built their entire attacking style around it, so much so that you become famous for that one throw. Indeed, it is not uncommon for international commentaries to go: "That is Nasamura, his strongest throw is Uchimata and it will rip his opponent's genitalia apart."

Okay not really.

At any rate, mine was Osotogari - a strong throw, hard to learn and slightly harder to master, but if you didn't know how to use it well (as i didn't) you take awfully big falls from counter attacks. The variation i use looks a little like this:

Tang's was a Taiotoshi - easy to learn, but impossibly hard to master. It gave me a lot of problems at first, practising with him - the throw was so powerful it made my head it the floor many times. It looks something like this:

Desmond, on the other hand, chose ippon seoinage. Seoinage is one of the earliest throws you ever learn in Judo, but i didn't like it ... because i didn't like it. No idea why. Now, of course, Des uses a lot of other techniques, and tells us he changed his tokuiwaza, but i don't believe him. He practised ippon seoinage at every practice session i've been to, and unless he practises with his dog at home i don't see how he can develop other techniques. it looks like this:

Vincent, who started off as the underdog due to his thiness and lack of muscle, chose haraigoshi, and practised it until every push you made agaisnt him became a threat to yourself. He almost always used your strength against you, making fights with him particularly frustrating for me because i use a back throw, which is exactly the direction he wants me to push. Haraigoshi is like this:

And there you go. A (nearly) complete introduction of the sport, just in case you stumble on one of my judo posts. I'll not touch on Atemiwaza, which is forbidden killing techniques, mainly because we haven't learned them yet. But for all other purposes people like Wandkey can no longer complain they do not understand.

Now if only I can begin to comprehend badminton ...

Fifth Gathering

The fifth undergroundsquare gathering was kinda cool, but not as good as the others. My legs are tired, and it seems some of my Judo injuries have resurfaced with all my walking - for example, i got hit by cramp in the driving leg (at this moment sympathy for blog readers sharply rears its ugly head, but i push it back down and remind myself that i will post a Judo introduction post, so no one gets confused or left behind).

Anyway, i had brought my dog to the vet earlier in the morning, and (thought) i had finally fixed the new computer's internet problems. So i was at McD eating lunch when Kenny smsed my mom (i forgot to bring a hp with me).

"Where are you?"

I hurriedly called and assured him i was alive and well, and munching on a foldover. And thus i set off for Times bookstore.

It was nice, browsing for books. Rather cramped, as Sam said, but still nice. For some reason Aldrin kept pushing me to the parenting section, and with a book of baby names found out that mine had a sissy image.

At least in Great Britain. From a play.

Daft.

Then we went and bought our tickets to Xmen 3. And we went for archery, where Nickki had to give me a crash course. I immediately liked the sport. My first shot missed the circle i was aiming for entirely and hit another dead centre. Nickki said wow. Aldrin laughed his head off at me, for he knew it had been his circle i hit. Ehheh. Vincent and Phang popped by, and i drilled Vincent for Judo training schedules for next week. He later confided in me he had checked out both Nickki and Sam and rated them "okay larr" which meant hot.

So on with the movie. It wasn't as nice as i had predicted, but now that its over i guess its a fitting end to a great series. Justice is done to the characters, although i seem to find Anna Paquin less visually arresting. Characters seem to get killed off at every other opportunity, meaning much less scripting. Some lines, (the president, for example, and Colossus, who had none) left much to be desired. I mean, c'mon - mutant war is raging and all you can say is "May God help us all."

But overall i liked it. It had punchlines and funny moments, although the sense of momentum and weight of the first two movies was lost; almost being cheapened to the feeling of a cheesy action flick. If it wasn't for the fact that it was characters that were already well expanded, and central themes similar to the homosexual (cure?) ethical questions of the real world, i'd write it off to the likes of Fantastic Four and Electra. But one thing i must say: the ending sequence is breathtaking. Amazing. Worth the RM10 i spent on the movie ticket. :D

After that the gathering went quickly downhill. I didn't feel like bowling (and me and Paul thought the others were off somewhere, so we decided to browse Times for a novel - we did not like bowling). Kenny found us and brought us back upstairs for the most boring part (to me and other non-bowlers who cannot appreciate the intricacy of the sport) of the evening. I tired to study, caught a picture of mitosis (about 15 seconds later) and gave up. Paul read a collection of short stories Abigail had lent him. Danny was going WOOTs all the way. Kenny, Tay and Nickki proceded to have fun. Sam and Wen Qi were ...

What were they doing? Hmm.

Then we discussed (again) where we were going. They suggested all this posh fusion places that i thought only the french went. And since we're in Kuching. So. You know. We decided on memories. I accidently called it patterns. Then i had a very inteligent conversation with sam on where exactly it was. We went to Tun Jugah and salivated at Apple displays and James Patterson novels. Niccki and Sam told us St Mae burned books (presumably appeasing the spirits to keep their school blocks from collapsing).

Okay, sorry.

Memories turned out to be closed. We walked and trudged, and i guess with my driving foot injury (i'm leg throw guy, remember?) i became grumpier and grumpier, coz we kept on going into cool restaurants and out again, aghast at the prices. So we settled on a chinese restaurant. I was happy. Boys (injured foot boys)+food+chair=happy.

And there you go. Me and paul left to Tun Jugah to wait for our parents, and discussed the problems with the gathering. Both us settled for a higly unlikely tale to tell our parents, that it was all fun and organised.

Which is not too true, not true at all.

Handwriting

What does your handwriting say about YOU?

You plan ahead, and are interested in beauty, design, outward appearance, and symmetry.
You are a shy, idealistic person who does not find it easy to have relationships, especially intimate ones.
You are diplomatic, objective, and live in the present.
You are a talkative person, maybe even a busybody!
You enjoy life in your own way and do not depend on the opinions of others.

Ehheh. Some right. Some very right. Others? Up to you to say.

Tag Chase Kill You

I got tagged (again) by Wandkey. Nyways, the rules are as such:

• The tagged victim have to come up with 8 different points about his/her perfect lover.
• Have to mention the gender of his/her perfect lover.
• Tag eight other victims to join this game and leave a comment on their blog.
• If you are tagged the second time.There is NO need to do this again.
• Lastly, most importantly, HAVE FUN DOING IT.

Okay. First, and foremost, the gender of my lover is female. You didn't actually expect me to say i wanted a Brokeback-ish dream, did you? (Don't answer that question).

So, on with the Tag:
1, Intelligence. Much as girls don't like blonde eyed, blue haired boys who go duh all the time (or was it the other way around now? I mean the eyes and hair, silly) wouldn't want to spend my life with an airhead that looks at her nails so often she gets hit by a rubbish truck (come to think of it, if i was married to such a monstrosity i'd do everything to make sure that happens).

2, Sincere. And knowing what to keep secret, and what not to.

3. Caring. If i break my collarbone (and God forbid with the driver throws i do now that could actually happen) i don't want her to go, "Honey, go WALK THE DOG!"

4. Responsible. Again, this is understandable. If she's not i don't suppose any of our kids would survive. ("Oh them? I left them in incinerator. They so wanted to explore, you know. And, besides, the nice tour guide told us they'd only activate it at noon. So. What's for lunch?")

5. Loyal. This works both ways. If i'm not as devoted to her then i don't deserve her.

6. Not addicted to anything. Even if its sex and it fulfills the average male libido ... Let's talk about number 7, shall we?

7, Understanding. If i go mad and smash the table, she should know what to do. And if she does a roundhouse kick at me, i'll know what to do too. Duck.

And, last of all,

8, Imperfect in her own ways.

So, the people i tag have already been tagged, but somehow sove's been left out. So.

Sove, you've been tagged.

Online Time Wasters

I got a new computer. About time. Its a black monstrosity, with modded case and horrible LEDs. The Samsung SyncMaster is black. The Eacan speakers and subwoofer is black. The keyboard is black. The mouse is black. I have a feeling computer manufacturers are discriminators. Where's the white? At Apple?

I spent about my entire day just installing updates and much needed software. There was iTunes, the personal firewall, the much needed oogling of features (and what the com shop guys had changed, i tweaked back to my preferences)

And then i realized, for all my geek ability, i couldn't get Zone Alarm to work. I screamed. I reinstalled the (inferior) Sygate Personal Firewall (which as i'm typing has just beeped me about some daft NT process that is supposed to run, anyway). I uninstalled Avast, and downloaded Norton. It failed. I screamed again.

I. Hate. New. Computers.

In the end, i restored most of what i had cleverly tweaked (vowing vengeance as i did so) and resorted to rereading The Harmony Silk Factory by Tash Aw. I had read it the first time (skim mode - two hours for a 300 page book, not bad, huh) when i was supposed to be studying for my Bio test. Don't blame me - i did my best. Only it was too much for one day cramming and i gave up.

So that means i have to study as i type. Doesn't make sense? Hey - nothing about the Malaysian Education System does.

Dear Headmistress Of St Mary's School

I, as the AJK of the St Thomas Judo Club will like to ask for permission to do a Judo demonstration at your school at any time. The reason why we need this demonstration is to spread to other schools about this activity. That's why we just need your acceptance so we could inform our sensei (teacher) and do preparations like bringing the mat known as 'tatami' for our falling technique like the 'ukemi'. The school hall or the newly built auditorium is suitable for us to do our demo. Please accept our offer as this activity not only as an extra cocuriculur activity but it also help students to use their extra time something more useful than wasting their time loitering.

Thank you,

Yours sincerely,
Carlucci Noel Usey Jasmy
AJK of the St Thomas Judo Club

Good lord. Imagine the reaction of the marians if we actually sent this letter (okay, not letter - order/memo/do-this-or-we-kill-you). We'll be thrown out and sent rolling all over Kuching.

It was a half term ago and Tang and Des had sheepishly passed it to me to send across the road. Both were more worried about who was to send it than what it actually contained. Thank God I opened it and nearly screamed, and then proceeded to do what i believe is my first lecture on a subordinate. I mean, for goodness sakes, Carlucci was a guy that knew a grand total of three throws! Even the Thomian judokas of my generation don't dare to hold a demo just yet without sensei's approval - and we had the experience of quite a couple of competitions. Calucci has his heart in the right place - just a little too eager for a showing off session.

Anyway, let's see how much worse it can be:

Dear Headmistress Of St Mary's School,
I, as the grand AJK (so listen to me, you-who-sits-across-the-road), of the St Thomas Judo Club am forcible asking for a damned demo that your school about time has had. It is Judo, an art considered to worthy for females of your calibre to join, but we're making it an exception because you're across the road. We demand the best of your facilities (and have our eyes firmly glued to your newly built auditorium) and we demand that you lug our boatload of tatami to your school. Accept this offer for it is better than loitering (which your students most obviously do).

(No) Thank you,

Yours sincerely

Carlucci Noel Usey Jasmy
AJK of The Grand And Noble And Best-Of-All-Martial-Arts Thomian Judo Club

I have a feeling we'll be slaughtered this time.

Our Just and Fair Media

I'm actually thankful that my exams was during the state elections, for if they weren't i'd have a lot to write about. At any rate, the results are out and the call is shocking (to the government) : 9 opposition wins!

I would however, like to comment on the lovely local media. Based on an entirely unscientific study, i took a look in the Borneo Post May 15 pages to mark out stories for both the opposition and the government. This is what i found:

• Coalition articles: 32
• DAP: 2
• Keadilan: 0
• EC vs MAFREL (frankly hilarious, this one): 1
• Neutral: 1

Wow. No wonder the local Kuchignites went in droves to buy up peninsular newspapers like the Star and the NST for overall, unbiased commentaries on the election. How embarrassing is that? How stupid can the Borneo Post and the Eastern Times be? Heck, i'm only a student, but even i know the basic role the media has to play in a country. The Fourth Estate! The fact that its' supposed to be a neutral party! What blatant propoganda is this?

Of course, pundits supporting the Libra badge may argue that since the main chunk of the government is BN, then shouldn't more stories be on the BN? Hmm. Let's see how ironic that form of reasoning is.

Together we fall

'We do not need the opposition because the BN elected representatives themselves can criticise the government. In fact, in the Dewan Rakyat, for example, the BN elected representatives are more outspoken than the opposition members," he (Najib) said.

(Taken from May 20 front page, Borneo Post 'GIVE BN BIG MANDATE')


Indeed. Yes, i'm sure all the assemblymen love their people. Hell, since they are all so outspoken have perfect disregard for their own interests, we mind as well not have elections! Wait! That's not logical! Why have a parliament if there are no elections?? Freeze! Ahah! Light beams upon us! Let's have the CM signed in as a Sultan, the rest of the ministers as Hang Tuahs and demote the people to plebs and peons!

Lovely.

The irony of the whole propaganda is that it drives people away from what the government tells them. The more the CM's picture is splayed, the more urban, educated people wince. It just doesn't make sense, especially when the quotes written are all so childish and seemingly uneducated.

'Don't make baseless claims. The opposition keeps on saying government are corrupted, ... how can development occur if there is corruption?
... China is a socialist government ... it cares for its people.'

(Dr George Chan)


A few pages later, in the World section, a fully featured article tells all about how cancer is rising in Chinese rural towns due to uncontrolled contamination of water. And to even students like me the holes in Chan's reasoning are so blatant i wonder how he became a doctor. No corruption! Indeed! Read this and think! Corruption comes about because of development, not the other way around!

I am sure Dr Chan is a great, respectable man - but the way the SUPP controlled Borneo Post writes about him makes him sound like a stupid, bereaving kid. If were the editor i'd not quote the daft slips-of-tongue; instead use the ones that are intelligent and appealing to a thinking population. Kuchingites no longer live on trees - we want a government that treats us as such!

If local newspapers hadn't been so lacking it would've been harder for opposition fuelled rumours to go around. My whole family had a good time laughing about Alfred Yap going to a temple to have his fortune read, adn every single fate stick he pulled out told him he would lose. The fact that the English dailies created a vacuum on Opposition news made us not know which was real and which were rumours. It was a total backlash for the coalition - and garnering support from educated urban folk has to be more subtle and more transparent than telling us tranvestites greeted Anwar as he arrived in Kuching.

Rural people who need development would support BN anyway - so toning down pictures of a white haired man and giving equal credence to the Opposition won't hurt polling results in the kampung at all.

The two interviews that made the made the most impact on me was TIME magazine's December 2005 interview with Lee Kuan Yew and Off The Edge's interview with Kua Kia Soong.

THE MAKING OF SINGAPORE
TIME: But you would concede that Singapore now needs more contention and turmoil?
LEE: Surely, surely. Ideally we should have Team A, Team B, equally balanced, so that we can have a swap and the system will run. We have not been able to do this in Singapore because our population is only 4 million, and the people at the top, with proven track records—not just in ability, but in character, determination, commitment—will not be more than 2,000. You can put their biodata in a thumbdrive.

We also have a different culture, a different way of doing things. The individual is not the building block. It's the family, the extended family, the clan and the state. The five crucial relationships are: you and the prince or the ruler, you and your wife, you and your children, you and your parents, you and your friends. If those relationships are right, everything will work out well in society.

Singapore, or at least its leaders, understand the intricacies of the democratic system. Here in Malaysia we yell for one party parliaments. But let us remember Singapore is far more developed than Malaysia. Something closer to home:

EK: Your detention in 1987 was due principally to your activities in the Chinese education movement. How do you think Chinese education has developed since 1987, especially given the fact that as government schools confront crises, Chinese schools continue to produce the best results?
Nothing much has changed really. In 1987, we had already begun regressing when compared to the period following Independence. The number of Chinese schools has not increased, though we are getting more and more non-Chinese in Chinese schools. There were 1350 primary schools at Independence with a Chinese population of 2.5 million; today, we have five million or more Chinese and the number of schools has dropped to 1,284. And these 1,284 now have 80,000 students from around the country.

But that has never been an issue among the Chinese community because we welcome non-Chinese students. For that matter, you never hear about racism in Chinese schools – and I would be among the first to point out if there is racism in a Chinese school. [That said], SRJK Damansara has been closed for almost three years now. That school belongs to the community. Why shouldn’t you open that school for that community? In PJ, JB and Wangsa Maju, the Chinese population is growing consistently and [the authorities] won’t allow a Chinese school to be built there.

EK: Why do you think the issue of Chinese schools continues to be contentious, especially since they are producing the best results in the country. Why aren’t our politicians learning from this?
Because Umno is dead set on its Bumiputera policy – the whole ideology upon which this Umno-putera class has come to power, they can’t let go of. You see it at every Umno General Assembly. It is said that vernacular schools are an impediment to national integration but the worst examples of this are the political parties themselves, the mono-ethnic parties. How can you justify this? I couldn’t. If you ask any of the Chinese educationist leaders like Lim Fong Seng and others who joined the opposition front in 1990 whether they could justify mono-ethnic parties like the MCA, they couldn’t. But having your Mother Tongue education system is different. That is a Human Right.

EK: The question of national integration continues to be a challenging one especially in a complex cultural fabric like ours?
I don’t know why people refuse to see it because I think the fundamental question about integration in this country is that root discrimination that is in the economic and education policy. If you get rid of discrimination, I’m sure you’ll solve a lot of problems. Then for Umno, its ideological base will be taken away. That will solve a lot of problems in this country. I’m positive about that. You cannot justify discrimination in that way. I also have said, from the 80s, that we should have a race relations act, with a race relations commission not just to ensure equality but also to outlaw hate crimes and hate speeches that we see and hear often enough. If you get rid of all that, and get rid of mono-ethnic political parties then I think we are well on our way to becoming a society “at peace with itself”.

Hmm, i thought, intresting stuff. Whether or not UMNO's Bumi policy causes them more harm than good is still up to the world and the harsh realities of life to answer, but even our former PM (Mahathir) has admitted the fallacy of such a policy. If my memory serves me correctly his exact words were: " ... but then again without us (the government) they (the Bumis) would have died."

I went downstairs and opened up the Borneo Post, May 15, page 2.

Show your gratitude to BN through votes: Minos
Kuching: The Bidayuhs must vote for the Barisan Nasional not only to return the mandate to the coalition for the next five years but also as a show of gratitude for the development that it has brought them.

Yes. I see. I really do. Feelign sickened, i reopened my F4 moral textbook to check the cabaran-cabaran Wawasan 2020. There it was, at no 3:

'Mewujudkan dan membangunkan masyarakat demokratik yang matang.'

It's a catch-22: The coalition is a development machine, but the ISA lends it a degree of power so total it creates corruption. To check that we need the opposition - but they are not development focused at all. Perhaps, however, the best example of the quagmire is this snippet from Kua Kia Soong's interview:

EK: Your experience in formal politics (with the DAP) was not a positive one (as recounted in your book Inside the DAP). Many people are disillusioned with the political process because they find that alternatives are really not an alternative at all. In an authoritarian climate, the process simply mutates and each political party appears as a reflection of the other…
I think it’s a problem with the kind of liberal democracy we have both here and in the West, the humbug-ism that gives rise to a lot of cynicism. I am as disillusioned with the system as anyone…

To 'mewujudkan dan membangunkan masyarakat demokrasi yang matang' we'll need more critical thinkers, and they have to be created through Malaysian means and Malaysian education. Admittedly both of the men mentioned above have their faults - Lee believes intelligence is genetic and may appear chauvinistic, while Kua is too socialist (or Marxist, whichever way you look at it) for my liking. And both were English educated, which goes to show the modern day Malaysian eduaction system has yet to churn out an equal measure of democratic maturity.

Perhaps if the boys and girls of my generation, me included, grow up to have that degree of insight, Malaysia and Sarawak in particular would prosper in the political and social sense. But while that seems like a candy coated dream in a system Greek philosophers named ochlocracy, i remind myself: We got a looong way to go - and to what end?

Politics is a very dirty game.