21 June 2007

I finally got the pictures took during our humble New Year celebration. Looking back at these pictures ... I truly begin to wonder and tremble at what this all means.

Here we have me and two of some of my closest friends on this planet. Thats me laughing uncontrollably in the background as Matt combs the hair of the Happy Meal doll I ordered for him, and everyone else at the table. Azri seems to be either drunk on the immensely concentrated caffein in his large Coke ... or ... perhaps he has fallen in love with the green haired dall ... I don't know and for the sake of my friendship with him, I do not ever wish to know.

Here is a picture that needs not any explanation. Nor do I wish to torture myself by thinking of any explanation. He is in fucking heavenly bliss after getting his hand on the green haired doll. The one cruely sliced in half in the background, the one stroking what appears to be Garfield's bullocks ... is named Afendi.

I saved the best for last. This picture obviously shows Matt is losing himself in a fit of furious anger. Azri stole his Happy Meall doll, what do you expect? The first picture obviously shows Matt so deeply engrossed with the doll and Azri's jealousy clearly shows too.


When Azri stole the doll, I guess Matt just totally lost it. So Adrian calms him down by licking him and engulfing him with tender loving care, thus taking away all the heartache and the pain of having something precious to you, stolen right in front of your eyes. It hurts like hell you know? Its a good thing that Adrian did what he did, or one of my friends could have died that night.

I wish I could remember what happened after that, but I guess I'm so damn traumatized after what I saw that night that my mind just ... repressed the event.


So concludes the introduction of some of my closest friends.
I'm gonna go watch The Simpsons now.

16 June 2007

Almost two days of no sleep, and I don't feel sleepy.
Its been about two hours since my lovely reconcilation with my bed, and I can't sleep.


Maybe its the fact that I'm not very happy nowadays, which is why I decided to spend a little bit of money to spoil myself for once. I decided to get some yae yo.


Why not? Its always helped me in the past.


I only feel happy nowadays when I'm alone in my car on the streets of town. Windows down, music blasting, stopping at random places so you can light a smoke, you just can't go wrong hanging out alone.


It teaches you a lot of things and it answers a lot of questions,
the most important question being "where would I be without my life."
I think everyone should just close their eyes and see where they end up when they open them.

13 June 2007

Ling's grandmother passed on today.
I really liked her,


She was the first adult family member of any female friend's family that liked me on first sight. You see, every girlfriend's, female acquaintance's or even just any female friend's house I went to I always got a very cold and insincere reception. For the first time at least.


But then again some of them end up never liking or trusting me, ever.


Anyway, I really liked Ling's grandmother. She treated me like a grandson, not out of simple common courtesy. It was the first time someone ever treated me like that. It felt really good, it really really did. Being accepted is one thing, being liked is another.


It must be really hard to like me, I guess.


I remember the first time I went over to Ling's house, it was Chinese New Year 2005. I was with Suet at the time, she absolutely hated me for that. Soon, it was to be one of three reasons we ended our relationship.


About the Chinese New Year thing ... the stuff that happened during my visit was really quite amusing and the food was great though it was cold, cold but tasty.


I never understood more than 5 words Ling's grandmother ever said to me, I only understood "eat," "tall," "sit," "Ling," "#7" ...


When I got a message this morning from Ling telling me her grandmother is falling in and out of consciousness, I sat upright on the sofa staring blankly at the TV screen not knowing what to think or feel, the only thing on my mind was what to say to Ling if it really was the end.


Before I knew it, I got a phonecall with a sobbing Ling at the other end of the line, telling me her life did end. I took the car and left the house the minute my mom got my brother home from college so that I could go over to her place at any given time.


I ended up going to the wake at the end of the day. Glad to see the family wasn't all torn up or anything, was really a load off my shoulders. This is the first funeral I've gone to in about 6 months and the first ever funeral since Form 1 that I did not attend with friends.


It was really special and really weird at the same time. Although I did not understand much of the lot of things she said to me, she was really special to me, kinda. I was hoping that I could get to know her better during my next few visits to Ling's house ... or something.


I obviously don't have that chance anymore, I should make her an example in my life. She passed on happily, the family never neglected her, and although she was sometimes angry at trivial old fashion things like the family not calling her to the dinner table before they sit down and eat and stuff, she was never really depressed or truly upset.


I'm envious of Ling and her grandmother. My grandmother is always crying and worried to the point that she doesn't have the heart to eat. No matter what I do, I can't help her. If she dies tomorrow, I would be traumatized my entire life because I know she would die an incredibly unhappy person.


I wish there was something more I could do.


Whatever the case, back to Ling's grandmother.
I guess that since I don't have a chance to get to know her better, the least I could do for her is to remember her always, after all ... I don't believe in mourning a person's death but instead believe in celebrating a person's life.


Maybe it is hogwash, since the last paragraph was written by me, a person that would wail and moan about his long gushing fringes being cut off. I swear, you hear the cries of my despair and you'd think that I just saw my entire family bound and anally assaulted to death.


I'm just writing whatever comes into my mind.
I guess, I really liked Ling's grandmother because she was so nice to me. It was emotionally liberating to know that I'm not always hated at first sight. During my visits there, she kept repeating her request to me, and I guess I will swear my life by that request from now onwards.


I owe her, really ... and that is the least I can do for her.
She may not know it but for once in my life, she made me feel comfortable in someone elses' home. A debt must be paid no matter what the circumstances or costs. I will oblige the wish she spammed so openly to me and I will look out for her dearest, clumsy eldest granddaughter. =)

June 12, 2007

Throw the rules out the window and odds are you'll go that way too.
A friend of mine got pregnant while studying in Sunway Johor. 4 months pregnant it seems, the to-be father broke up with her a few days ago telling her she isn't going to ruin his entire future taking care of "her" baby.


Whatever happened to owning up to your own actions?
That is supposed to be an innate mantra among stupid. blunt-minded men.


She told me over the phone a few hours back after I had dinner with Adrian. "Don't tell my brother" she said. Well, I ended up telling him anway. It only took me like 2 minutes to make up my mind on whether I should tell him or not.


Besides, he would kill me if he found out I knew all the while up until the moment he found out. I guess I am lying traitor. I should change my name to Judas.


Why must she come to me for help when she knows it will trouble me very god damn much? Giving me that "don't tell my brother" is making it even worse by testing my loyalty and risking my friendship to a brother. She hasn't even been in any form of contact with me for months now. Coming to look for me only when you need help?


I had just managed to climb out of a few gaping holes in my life. I thought I could finally relax, but evidently I cannot. That is the genius of the hole, no matter how much time you spend climbing out of it, you can still fall back down in a second.


I guess all this whining and complaining I'm doing doesn't change anything. Helping people is a binary choice, either you help them or you don't.


The truth is I every inch of my mind and body is screaming at me not to help her, well ... apart from my heart of course. No not the organ, but since I'm already touching that topic - why do they say "have a heart" when semantically it is more correct to say "have a conscience" ??? Logic would say things like "he has a conscience of gold" instead of "he has a conscience of gold." Logic is such a liar.


Anyway, in the interest of continuity:
It all comes down to the fact that I absolutely positively do not want to help her, but I can't resist the urge to help someone in need, what more such desperate need like this stupid female friend of mine.


I'd be lying if I said that I truly believed in all the "you should help someone without expecting anything in return" shit I learned in Moral Education classes and sunday schools.


Helping people in need usually doesn't give you anything in return. Its like kissing the lips of your dead lover, nothing but darkness waiting in the hole of her mouth.


The reason I'm lamenting all this is, despite everything I cried about in the above, I'm going to end up helping her anyway. Ideally, I would tell her "NO!!! You play, you pay." I close my eyes and I can practically envision myself saying that and her reaction afterwards, but the truth is I can't.


I really hate myself at the moment for refusing to see and accept the inevitable, refusing to do the smart thing and tell her to fuck-the-hell-off, "No!!! I must do the right thing!!!"
Hahaha.


I should just throw everything away and live cold, wet and nakedly in the deep forest or something, sleeping on bat shit in a dark subterranean cave doesn't sound like such an unbearable lifestyle sometimes.


Bah.

What were you in your past life?

You were ... a court jester.

'What were you in your past life?' at QuizGalaxy.com

I'm Bad At Titles

And at writing entertaining blog entries too, as a matter of fact.
But that might change, though. Anyway, on towards my entry ...


Like any other emotionally negative thing in my life, it started with the words of a woman. I was forced to down a shot glass filled with one part opinion and one part reality. It was bitter, probably worse than the time I ruined the great invention of alcohol by mixing red wine, whiskey and beer in a coffee mug.


After such a shock, I just lost myself for awhile; and then I realized my heart started to bleed. Bleeding hearts are usually not a good thing, its like that feeling you have when your girlfriend says to you "Hi, I just fucked another guy!!!" ... only worse. That lovely pre-apocalyptic feeling of knowing you are just not good enough to survive the future in your current condition.


So what do you do? You start to think, deeply and desperately ... all that is wrong has been presented to you on a diamond studded silver platter, your whole life flashes by, heartbreak and scars; you could live a lifetime in that split second.


At this point that throbbing ache in your heart moves lower down your anatomy into your stomach, and you feel quite empty in your stomach. Soon, you wonder if you've been poisoned because you can hardly feel your legs, wiggling your toes send extremely sharp, hollow impulses through your entire body.


You may feel like crying solely for the fact that if you indeed, do cry; the trickling sensation of warm tears running down your cold, numb cheeks will wake you up from what you pray-to-god is a bad dream.


Unfortunately, crying will only quicken your inevitable disappointment in knowing that everything that happened in the past one minute of your life was in fact, as real as reality can ever get.


One thing you can count on: You push a man too far and sooner or later he'll start pushing back. There were two phases in my life, one was a cocky lone wolf that rarely talks while another was a social wolf that talks like cock. Both were dogs.


I guess the social wolf ran out of time to buy more sand for his hourglass. That feeling of inferiority, knowing that I just wasn't good enough, it was so hard to be so coldly reminded of it again and yet not having the strength or the heart to fight back.


I was trapped between a rock and a hard place.
How exactly did I push back? Simple, I snapped.
It is as dramatic as it is true.