Skip college, stay home.

Halfway into my first week of the semester and I’ve already played the truant. I know I can’t justify myself, nor can I drown out the nagging guilt clinging to my neck ever since I made the decision to tell my parents that I’ve no more classes the entire week. The least I could do I reassure myself that today’s class is a mere 2 hour lecture, in which I would less likely be missed by my new lecturer or my fellow classmates. I’m not quite ready to pay 15 bucks and trudge an hour an a half to college, sit under the boring crooning of a stranger lecturer and ride myself back home. No.

But then again, Pei Ling lives where I live (my town) and she paid 15 bucks, got to college, listened to the crooning, and trudged back. So yeah, there’s no comforting my conscience. I’m so going to hell.

There’s another 2 hour class tomorrow, so be assured that I wouldn’t be there. Blam me of you need to.

To be honest, really, really honest, honest beyond the utmost sincerity of my underlying truth and frankness that blossoms in my zenith of non-lying honestly, I skipped class today so that I can wallow myself in the couple of games I bought last Saturday, which I haven’t touched save for the 15 minutes I stole out to test them (see, I’ve been totally honest with you). Ah, but fate would not have it (or rather, I’ve taken a turn at the karma thing) because I had to spend the day helping my brother revise for his upcoming exams.

Let me be frank with you (once again), helping a temperamental brother revise Law, one of the very most horrendously insane branch of education that had ever graced the lives of our human civilizations, can be rather crazy-inducing. And it drags long (just so damn many things to memorize), so long that time actually passes like mad but still felt like a millennium. Not that I mind it all that much (I’m helping my bro, for crying out loud; I’m not that much of a jerk), but it can get dull; dull like black and grey pages of the newspaper classified, a jumble of incomprehensible, indecipherable images that does little to entice the senses and does a whole lot to confuse the mentality. But hey, I might get rewarded for it, so shut up JE and leave it be.

What I basically do is help my bro memorize his statutes, notes, cases, decrees, whatever other stuff law is incorporated to and etc. And while it might sound pleasant (perhaps to the stoned individuals that I wouldn’t know why they’re reading this instead of hentai manga), it’s not. The factors are:

1) Words that are somehow hard to pronounce (or at least for me. Wait. Yeah, only me).

2) Sentences that I can’t understand, even when my brother took the time to explain.

3) Sentences that I may or may not understand, but still confuses the heck out of me.

4) Sentences that both me and brother can’t understand. I don’t know why but it annoys me, somehow.

5) Freaking English names that are either too hard to pronounce, too hard to read or too hard to remember.

6) Things that somehow seemed to loop back, despite how long it is, as though repeating its own crap-circle (it’s just me).

7) Reading those really, really, really long sentences/points/cases/notes that contain everything of the above.

8) Not knowing what to read, which to read and when to read.

I have to deal with it all the way into the 13th June or so (I might’ve listening wrongly, which could be good or bad). Guess I just need to tolerate through it.

Goodnight people.


Word of the day: Evince-To show or demonstrate clearly; manifest: evince distaste by grimacing

Still reading: American Gods (slow progress).

Anime of the day: Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicles (2nd season) ep 29.

Sighing at dinner.


I’m pretty much screwed right now, but strangely the feeling of exhaustion that usually accompanies the plethora of regret and inner-suffocation is absent. Still, the numbness still resides and weighting the mind and it’s nothing short of awe that I can still manage to type right now.

It’s pretty hard to control myself and shouting “FUCK!” at every single thing I can place my blame on, but I know in the end all I could do is just blame myself. I don’t want to heighten the fucked-up feeling welling in my stomach, and I don’t want to place myself in a swirl of regret and remorse and make the day worse it could’ve gotten.

If you’re wondering what big-ass thing I’ve managed to get my pretty much useless and pathetic arse into, let me first tell you that what started off as a crappy dinner is now unfolding itself into disaster night episode 114. Nothing serious, really, nothing life endangering or horrendous enough for me to empty a bottle of febreeze into my guts with hopes that I’d pass out and lose my ability to think so that everything will become oblivious to me as I am oblivious to them. No. But I’ve screwed up bad enough; bad enough to warrant me a hefty load scolding from dad. God knows how much more I could take, not when dad’s already pissed since dinner.

Dinner today consisted of fried chicken wings (self marinated with those RM1 packets of frying flour), a fish fried and served with garlic soy sauce and a plate of fried Okra (lady finger). I believe it may somehow sound alright, and that it’s what regular household dinner would offer to the everyday family. But trust me when I say this; it SUCKS. The chicken turned our rather tasteless; the fish became some flaky monstrosity with crappy sauce all over it. Only the okra was alright. And as the very feisty eater my dad is, complaints were soon all over the dishes (accompanied by the trademark curses and cusses). “What the fuck fish is this? The chicken taste like shit! Where’s the otak-otak? Tiuniama chew chibet.” What could’ve been a warm, quiet dinner turned out to be a round table engulfed with bad moods and horrible temper that hovers above dishes. Dad lost his appetite. His continuous nagging lost me my appetite. Dad left his half of his plate untouched. I finished everything to cover my guilt. Brother had to take swipe at me. Sigh.

My maid does the cooking, so basically everything my dad was hollering at is indirectly directed at her. What he didn’t know is that every evening the maid would confide to me regarding what should be cooked. Thus, the one who gets all the blame is me. It’s bad enough already to silently take the blame for what my maid did, who went on a long line of excuse that the fish should be cooked instead of the otak-otak that I suggested. It’s hard not to blame it entirely on her. I’m still rather pissed at her, especially when she looks cool about it. But I could’ve insisted, and I could’ve made the dishes well much better. Never mind. It’s not like it never happened before.

So what continued is that I have to take the car, under the soft serene rain, to the nearby restaurant and get dad some noodles, and wait a full 20 minutes for it. It was freaking dark, the most of the streetlights were pretty much out, the car’s headlights had to be dim, and I had to scrape the front bumpers to the side of a signpost while parking. Shit. I checked. A lot of paint is scratched out. A whole damn lot. Nothing I could do to cover my crime, apart from brushing off the paint that got lodged at the signpost. I haven’t told dad. What I could do now is either feign ignorance and pray that dad won’t notice it till he went to work, or tell the whole damn thing and brace the scolding along with the humiliation for scraping the car during the one manoeuvre which I perform without fail every fucking week. Fuck. Another thing is to lie; tell my dad that he has a scrape to the bumper when I lock the doors tonight, and pretend that some rogue, reckless driver had scraped it when the car was parked, then feign ignorance. I’d hate to have the guilt, but now it seemed the best choice of action. Damn it.

God damn this fucking dinner.

Green fields beneath the greying sky.

I took this picture sometime back in January, on the way down to Penang for weekend break. Finally fished it out of my neglected picture folder, so I thought I’d post it here before I delete it sometime in the future to make way for upcoming anime episodes.

I was chatting with this girl once, I remembered, sitting at the side of an empty hallway listening to whatever
crap songs my MP3 player was spouting. She told me that she wanted to see the world, and perhaps go backpacking across the continents one day (or something like that, my memories don’t stay fresh). The idea was dead appealing; carrying a knapsack filled with clothes and coffee mugs, striding pass the square courts of London, or walking the open tracks of the American countryside, or standing at the cliff somewhere in New Zealand (preferably around the film locations of LOTR) tasting the wind and embracing the scenery, and forever capture the beauty of every of this locations into the frames of photographs.

This picture, somehow, reminded me that Malaysia has still so much to show, and I have yet to witness every of this spectacles. Perhaps, one day, what I should really do first, is walk across the padi fields of Kedah, or kayak along the blue waters between the islands off Terengganu, or marvel the Mulu cave, or scaling Mount Kinabalu.

Perhaps one day… I should save money for a vacation.

Where’s my piggy bank? Oh right, I don’t have one, not since 6 years old.

Goodnight people.

Word of the day: vis-à-vis -
1.Face to face with; opposite to.
2.Compared with.
3.In relation to

Currently reading: American Gods by Neil Gaiman.

Anime of the day: The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya (Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuutsu) ep 8.

Monochrome.

Don’t ask me why, just that somehow after catching an eye of a monochrome portrait sometime back, the word kind of got stuck around me. Perhaps it signifies a certain relation, or a similarity, to what I sometimes perceive what life and living as (as much as my cumbering intellectuality can procure).

No, I won’t say my life is dull or colourless as any certain teen or young adult lumbering through college, claiming that life is just as lifeless as the dreary shades of grey in the darkening skies. Bullshit. Look everywhere and the rose is just as red and the skies are just as blue, the grass just as green and a 24 inch high-def plasma TV can still make my 16 bit games look like X-Box quality (exaggerated).

My apologies. It’s just that people who disregard the world just because they disregard themselves can get on my nerves sometimes.

No, monochrome, somehow, signifies equivalence. Just two of something; light and dark, black and white, good and evil, yin and yang, roti canai and thosai, all that jazz.
But then I’m a sucker for the light-and-darkness-equivalence sort of things, so render me coco puffs. It’s just that it’s a simple way to put things. You get the 2 things. If one increases, one decreases, but sometimes it goes in reverse. Like walking towards a light source, and the shadows grow longer (this plagiarised off Kingdom Hearts). Something in increase will both decrease and increase something else. And you also get one of something within another… something. Light within darkness. Good within the evil. Get it? Don’t bother. It’s just tish-tosh of a boring, dull-minded individual with affections for monochrome pictures, and it won’t make sense in life anyway.

Ah… my idiocy, once more, startles me.

Goodnight people.

Word of the day: Marquis- A nobleman ranking below a duke and above an earl or a count.

Currently reading: American Gods by Neil Gaiman.

Anime of the day: The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya (Suzumiya Haruhi no Yuutsu)

Blog overhaul.

Been wanting to do it for a while now, and finally sought the will to do it.

Nothing much, just thought i'd change the blog title to something else, despite my peculiar obsessions and similiarities towards the artic blubbering creature with tusks.

Finally placed some links. Inform me if i left out any.

I'll shape it out a lil more, once understand what the hell is HTML.

Maybe upload a picture...

What day is it today?

What day is it today? A bad day or a good day? I don’t know. Somehow beneath my exasperated and somewhat exhausted spirit, both seemed so likely, and yet so unlikely as well. The disturbing, familiar heat rising to my face-a sign of getting caught in the rain-is uncomfortable and disconcerting (while promisingly tempting, getting a fever during the last week of college break sucks). By right I should be pissed at the day; getting caught multiple times under the rain, getting screwed for pathetic reasons, somewhat making myself a fool in front my course juniors (Quiet and Serene? Wrong words, pal), and just tiring the crap out of my wide disgusting bottom. But what is this uncanny feeling of satisfaction settled warmly at my stomach?

Today is the college Mass Call day (or maybe another name, but I’m caring less about it), the day in which the new batch of students from this year’s May intake heave their arses to attend a whole day of non-prolific crap at college (yes, from my own personal experience). Being a senior now… wait, where’s the pride of being so? How come I feel degraded and pathetic and a total loser? Oh right, that’s the feverish feeling kicking in. Sorry. I was caught a rain too many.

Anyways, us senior need to introduce the college to the juniors, just as our beloved seniors did (“beloved” is a candy-coated lie), so today us senior committee members and a few other course mates which is enthusiastic enough to come have to tour the newbie batch around the college. Honestly, I’m not obliged to do so. But I’m obliged to choose to attend to do so. I don’t necessarily need to go, but I have to go, get it? It’s ok if you don’t, because I’m in a class 3 blur-case right now, and things are getting fucked-up.

I have to admit, it’s kinda fun feeling slightly superior to someone else (particularly for someone with inferior height, such as I), and it’s amusing to see the uncertain, quiet and curious but unenthusiastic juniors herding along like sheep in red woolly t-shirts (college t-shirt’s red this year). But it sucks when you get the feeling that they aren’t all that interested in what the heck you’re trying to tell them. And that feeling that you’re somehow deemed a loser and lamer in front of them. Unnervingly perplexing. But I can’t blame them if they do. I did my seniors too. But that’s not the point.

You know what? Scratch the second sentence of my first paragraph. Because today is undeniably a bad day. Why? I can’t elaborate further. Why? Because once more I’m deprived of rest and leisure and sleep because I chose so, which is because I don’t want to be a jerk.

Today sucks.

Pardon this entry.

Please leave me in peace. Crap-damnit.

Flowers of the misty hills, or the coke machine.











Which would you perceive as the more interesting object?

Months back, during a time in a highland theme park, I found myself in the company of a peculiar girl (a friend of mine) who set about taking random pictures with my Nikon Digi-cam. From signboards to broken railway tracks to electrical pipes at the ceiling and the above coke-machine, she was –how should I put it- enthralled by them (or so she seems). I was used to such behaviour in photographing; I myself being a person who would suddenly bolt out to take pictures of an interesting chair that resides on the outside of a public loo, still, I couldn’t help but be slightly intrigued and humoured.

Later in the day, while she was on a ride my weight restricted me to participate in (sadly, but a truthful reflection of my pathetic condition), I strode off to a nearby greenhouse that held somewhat exquisite flowers. Being a terrible photographer, but a photographer nonetheless, I spent a great deal of time attempting close-ups of the flowers and (what I hopefully hope would be) artistic shots. As we were on the way back, I showed her the pictures I took hoping to gain her interest, but at a glance she said, “I’m not interested in pictures of flowers,” and walked off to examine large branches arranged as walls for a restaurant, leaving me quite confounded (and disappointed, as I would’ve liked to impress her).

So it got me wondering, months after as I finally uploaded those pics into my com; if photography shows beauty and what we perceive as beauty or intrigue, then does preferring to photos of different expression of interest show how much someone perceive the sort of beauty they would, well, deem as beauty?

Perhaps people who find the flower beautiful would see beauty as beauty portrayed, or perhaps they’re one who deems beauty as beauty deemed by others (flowers being an object of beauty). Perhaps people of this group would find beauty of the outside, beauty deprived from the first impression.

But the coke machine, well, at first glance, it’s just a coke machine. An old object that once had the privilege and pride of vending the world’s most famous carbonated drink to anyone with a ringgit and 20 cents (alright, I was being exaggerative), standing solitarily and ignored by the oblivious eyes of the ignorant. But perhaps someone else might perceive something different from it, something deep within the initial portrayal and the outside look. Perhaps the machine signifies strength in standing amidst change, or solitude with a side that cannot be perceived by the normal eyes, or cokes in bottles are once vended such as this (I didn’t know that, serious).

Then, if you imply it to life and humans, which beauty captures you? The flower; such as the girl that’s pretty, sexy and beautiful and much adored by everyone else. Or the coke machine; the solitary entity which intriguing side is obscured by the ignorant eyes.

But then, when you come to think of it, everyone perceives beauty at first portrayal. But sometimes, someone might just look harder, and see something completely different in something else.

So, which would you deem is the more beautiful picture?

Heat...

It’s freaking hot today. I don’t know about everyone else, or perhaps I’m under a spell of heat. The days before had been a routine of overwhelmingly hot afternoons and menacingly heavy rains in the evening (alright, not constantly menacing and there were quite a few gentle curtains that Amanda might deem “the perfect rain”), but today was exasperatingly stuffy all day long. The refreshing chill of the late winds were absent, and boy was it dry. I remembered vaulting up my mango to pick of a couple ripe mangos in the evening, and the winds were a gush of dry, warm breeze that does little to entice. Gosh, how long has it been since I actually climbed a tree? I never really did climb much when I was younger, though I did get a kick off swinging on the small jungle gym that used to occupy the recreational park opposite my uncle’s house in PJ (which was my former residence till I moved here, to Kajang, when I was 8). 11 years later with a lot of fat sagging off my bloated body, climbing has become slightly constrained. Time to get in shape.

It’s been a good 2 weeks, I presume, since I posted something here. Not that I intend to neglect it… but then I did, in light of my cousin’s stay with me here for the past 10 days. I could’ve make time doing this, but somehow I thought I’d spend it better by keeping my cousin from eroding under total boredom. These 10 days had been alright, 10 days with good company and some fun, though these 10 days could’ve been very much better with proper planning. 10 days, and all we did was; watch 3 movies (Hills have Eyes, MI:3, Poseidon), visit the arcades on every mall we got into (except Metro Kajang, because we thought the time was better spent on the ps2 at home), played badminton on 2 accounts, worked for a day at my aunt’s, went on a 3 hour karaoke session, played a good amount of card games and… wait, that’s all.

I couldn’t even take him ice-skating as I had promised before he came (we had badminton instead for the evening), and I had actually intended to take him to Genting Highlands (which didn’t work out because we couldn’t get anyone else to go, and the idea of 2 guys going to a theme park either sounds boring or gay). So yeah, forgive me my cousin, because I had officially ruined your 10 day holiday. Better luck next trip.

Cos i owe you one.

The Hills have eyes, and the trains have crappy doors.

The sleep was uneasy. So many nights snuggled comfortably under the blankets of my top, cozy bunk, I had already forgotten the feeling of sharing a bed with my brother. Not to mention that I had grown so much in size (fatter and taller, though only a little tall). Everything familiar was there; the blankets caught under my brother, my rolling to the center of the bed due to the bent mattress, the inability to turn to any position I’m comfortable with. Include the weird noises screeching from the top bunk (yes, screeching) and the sudden and unnerving sleep-talk from my brother (“What Jeff bluah bla Zzzz…” “I can’t believe mmmhmm mumble mumble..”), it was particularly difficult to even relax the mind.

Picture yourself trying to sleep in a cramped coffin under creaking cogs at work with a ghost spouting incoherent and incomprehensible lines every now and then.

Throughout the night I was caught in a sleep that doesn’t feel like a sleep at all, as if the same dream or situation kept occurring again and again and all I could do is either lean left or right and feel discomfort from both. But I have a guest; my cousin brother whom I invited to stay during his 10 day break from college, and I gave him my bunk and shared with my brother. So I shan’t be complaining. Whack me if I do.

I took Ivan to watch The Hills Have Eyes at Mid Valley, which turned out to be a flawed but somehow worthwhile watch (a review, possibly, sometime in the future). Played a round of Time Crisis 2 with him later on, after I got myself a game for the old ps2 and checking out some books (Neil Gaiman, I’m gonna get something of yours), and then we head home.

Trip back was… fucked-up. The train was packed, and I got separated from Ivan and had him cramped alone between a couple of men, so I was feeling rather guilty for placing him in that position. To make matters worse, there was some pathetic technical problem with the door at my train compartment; the door wouldn’t close. We were stranded, stopped dead at the Seputeh station while the commuter authorities tried to keep the door shut. In the end the train had to be emptied at the Tasik Selatan station, which was full with people returning from work to home and hoping for a quick train. We had to wait for the second train that came to avoid becoming canned sardine in a train. Thankfully the 2nd train was an express train, which got us home quicker than usual.

I guess we won’t be going out tomorrow, and I’m rather thankful.

Goodnight people.

Raining until 6

No, I haven’t really been neglecting this blog. Days after my exams were free and relaxing (albeit quite dull and boring, as holidays could tend to be), but without much vibe to write anything decent I’ve been leaving it aside. There’re a couple of entries which I’ve prepared, but it’s not worth posting (all of them nonsense, like this one, only more nonsensical).

The rain had been very intense these few days, full of vibrant rage and immensity. This evening at 3 the sky turned dark, the most maleficent clouds I’ve never seen in a long time shrouds the supposed zenith sun in a swirl of dark menace. The rain lasted well into 6 p.m. or so, its dregs of soft drizzle and occasional rumble of thunder left in its wake. Multiple times the house was thrown into darkness, the power jumped as lightning tore across the sky (thanks to the increased sensitivity of our fuse), and my car alarm was constantly blaring as thunder pounded like a mad elephant with paranoia (stupid sensitive car alarm). Astro became incompetent to provide any service at all, leaving my dad in a cursing state for voiding us of our American Idol and Thomas Cup coverage. Thankfully we still managed to catch The Simpsons at 6. Laughter could lift the grimmest of gloom.

Amanda was having a debate today (I believe). I just realized I haven’t called. Ju Ee had asked if I would go and watch the debate. I didn’t, but suddenly I thought I should be. Then again, my presence there wouldn’t mean anything. It’s not like I’m someone significant anyways. Still, there’s a certain weight whenever I think of it.

Goodnight people.