Karmic Conundrum

Borneo Cup 08

2008-04-18T12:39:00.002+08:00

Paintball

2008-04-18T12:20:00.002+08:00

Well, I love paintball. Its my new hobby. Theres nothing more fun than deluding yourself into thinking your some kind of superhero, equip yourself with a fake gun that shoots lil balls of paint, and running of into the wild (ok, not so wild) and unknown (ok, not so unknown) to face off against like minded individuals.

There's no better way to engage in constructive discussion and a sharing of cultures than to shoot someone in the face. And Bush Jr. will back me up on that.

Exhibit A: Morons

So a few weeks back (months? its been MONTHS?) a bunch of us got together and decided to get our asses painted blue yellow and red (yes, we wanted to get tattoos of the Malaysian flag on our butts. Failing that, we played paintball.) I present to you exhibit A. Noticed the slightly warped and deluded looks. Rohene is not visible in this picture because she is invisible.

Exhibit B: Avoiding World-Ending by the Cthulhu

There's this absolutely charming place in Kuching where everyone goes to play paintball. Its and outdoor arena, with all the necessary obstacles, muds and soil parasites that would keep any wannabe terminator-style killing machine happy. Unfortunately, I cannot present a picture to you, because nobody took a picture.

Paintball itself is a rather established and safe extreme sport. Nobody gets killed or worse, has their balls cracked on the pavement. As you can see from exhibit B, full body armour and helmet are provided. It looks like the Halo helmet to keep geeks happy. Otherwise, they would summon the Cthulhu (as is visible in Exhibit C. Geek concerned was unhappy with lack of Halo-like guns and aliens to hate. "Foreigners don't count," says Geek. "The politicians beat us to it.")

Exhibit C: Foreigner (read: Budaya Kuning) Lover (Burn Em'! Burn Em'! Burn Em' All!)

The goal of the game is to capture the enemy's flag (misleadingly called 'Capture the Flag'). Why anyone would want the enemy's flag and not their virgins is still a mystery. The goal is reached by shooting your enemy to pieces and bringing their flag back to your base. Suprisingly, if you are shot you don't really die. Instead you walk leisurely to an area of the field called the 'Dead Box'. Remember this name. You will spend a lot of time here. In the Dead Box, players are expected to ponder the meaning of life, and achieve world peace (Exhibit D)

Exhibit D: Players after achieving World Peace. ( if only everyone had started worshipping the Dollar God earlier.)

Other than achieving what civilization has failed to do in the pass 5 000 years, teams (bunch of players who can't get along but pretend to do so anyway) also earn 100 points for capturing the flag, 10 points for every kill and a candy bar for every bruise. You also get love and intense adulation from the crowd if at anytime during the game your panties becomes visible.

Exhibit E: We Sucked.

All in all, we sucked. We really really sucked. We got shot. Yay. We lost. Yay. I got shot in the face. Yay.

Lets do that again!

p.s: Rohene is visible in Exhibit E because she in not invisible.

Judicial Appointments Commission

2008-04-18T11:54:00.004+08:00

Well if you've read the paper, you may know that Pak Lah is setting up a Judicial Appointments Commission (JAC) to 'clean up' the judicial system.

Whats the Problem?

If you havent realized, the Malaysian judicial system is effectively shackled to political will. This is in direct contradiction to the principal of separation of powers, where the Executive, Judicial and Legislative powers of the state should be separated.

However, in Malaysia, there are certain laws (enacted under our former PM) that force judges to decide cases based on what parliament says. Also, the PM gets to choose our Chief Justice and Supreme Court judges. Therefore, a system that should be completely free of lobbying, political misuse, etc. is vulnerable to the wants of the politicians.

Furthermore, there have been too many cases and allegations (by former and retired judges, no less) of fixing, impropriety, etc. etc. etc.

The Brits

So this whole Judicial Appointments Commission idea is grafted from the British system. The Brits have a commission (say it with me: INDEPENDENT) that is not beholden to any political institution to appoint and promote judges based on merit. Any papers, research, findings, appointments, promotions, doodles and limericks are made public (PUBLIC: Tom, Dick, Harry and their 7 sisters can look at it if they want to).

The Malaise-yans

Of coz the great peoples of the great kingdoms of the Malaise-yans cannot be the using the established, transparent systems of the decadent west. We must make-de our own system.

In the great Malaise-yan system, the JAC advises the PM on who to choose. Meaning that the PM is still doing the choosing. Meaning that there isn't really much change is there?

And am not sure if I missed it, but there is no mention of exactly how this new system will be 'transparent and representative'. Are the appointments and promotions decision making processes going to be published and made public? No mention. And a good question that Ro asked- What happens if the PM disagrees with the decision of the JAC? Does he have the power to override them? (makes the JAC a bit redundant dont it?)

Eagerly looking forward to more news of this 'Judicial Renaissance'.

The Ghost in the Darkness

2008-04-08T18:08:00.002+08:00

Pitch black is a scary thing.

I was at my computer last night, typing away when all the lights went off.
Suddenly I was plunged into a very unfamiliar darkness, a blackness unrestrained by streetlights, or bulbs or the piercing glare of computer screens. Frustrated screams and howls echoed down the hallway, and a few morons shouted with glee. I walked out to the hall and the rest of my apartment mates were outside on the balcony, surveying the scene. Apparently, the electricity to our entire hostel was cut off, plunging most of us in a darkness that would be very unfamiliar to city dwellers. We could hardly see our own hands if it wasn't for the pitiful light of small candles and handphones.

I spent some time on the balcony, watching and listening with a sense of bewilderment as university students who had been at their computers, or books, or playing games or watching movies just a few minutes before began to fill the hallways and pavements,screaming and howling; beating empty bottles together or banging on doors, acting for all the world like savages on the warpath.

I walked in to relieve myself. Not having any candles, I found my way to the toilet using the light from my handphone. Even the familiar spaces of my apartment looked alien in the blue light of my sony-ericsson. i admit, i felt a little disorientated, bumping into the most familiar things. And a feeling of uneasiness began to gnaw at my mind. When I was finished, I don't know why, but I had the sudden urge to test if my handphone was still working. I called Nadia, telling her what had happened. She was amused, giggling at the sound of plastic bottle drums. I found her voice reassuring, I was oddly worried that somehow the telephone lines were down too.

I walked out to the porch again and wondered if everyone else shared the same feeling. I noticed that people who had been minding their own business when the light were on, were now congregating in small groups. Even my housemates, who usually don't say a word to each other,were now on the porch, standing close to each other and talking. There was an unmistakable quiver of excitement and nervousness in their voices. There were more of these little ad hoc groups everywhere, as the people in each apartment stuck close to familiar faces. Still the beating of
the empty bottles continued, thudding rhythmically, like drums in the night, growing louder as more and more joined in to declare war against the silence. I started to feel a little amped too, actually. There was a sense of excitement and adventure, a welcome break from the routine. And the stars lit the night sky.

It was then that my blood froze.

Out of the night, a voice called out in malay.
"Find a woman to rape! Plenty in the girl's hostel!"

Laughter echoed the cry, as someone else called out in support. I stalked back to my room in disgust as more voices joined in, howling with laughter and amusement, urging their friends on. I hurriedly leaned out the window to see if the lights were on in the women's hostel. They were. I let out a sigh or relief. Out of habit, I locked my door - but I did not fail to note that had it not been a habit, I would still have locked my door that night.

I sat on my bed, absently strumming on my guitar. I wondered what would have happened if all the lights had gone out.

Would the handful of security men that the university employs be able to control the situation? Could they cover all the ground?

Could university students turn to criminals under the cover of darkness?
I would not be suprised.

What is it about the darkness that brings out the animal in the man?

If all the lights go out, I wonder what will happen.

Out Of Exile

2008-03-20T14:09:00.004+08:00

The title song from Audioslave's Out Of Exile.
Chris' writing never fails to inspire (and somewhat humble) me.

When I first came to this island
that I called by my own name
I was happy in this fortress,
in my exile I remained

But the hours grew so empty
and the ocean sent her waves
In the figure of a woman
and she pulled me out to sea

[Chorus]
When you come down to take me home
send my soul away
When you come round you'll make me whole
send my soul away

On the altar of a sunrise
was a wedding in the waves
And inside her shone a young light
from her labor I was saved

Though I've traveled long in darkness
in her harvest I'm embraced

[Chorus]
When you come down to take me home
send my soul away
When you come round you'll make me whole
send my soul away

Now the spires and the gables
grow in orchards to the sky
And the blessings on my table
multiply and divide

[Chorus]
When you come down to take me home
send my soul away
Yeah when you come round you'll make me whole
send my soul away
Yeah when you come down to take me home
when you come round you'll make me whole
Yeah when you come down to take me home
Send my soul away
send my soul away
Send my soul away
send my soul away

Of Money, Mandates and Telecommunication Towers

2008-03-19T13:24:00.002+08:00

Ok this is a paper i wrote for an assignment. The question is just down here and my answer. Why I decided to post this? Because I wanted to post something on the subject and was too lazy to type it twice.

Question:
Discuss the policies that are applied by SACOFA Sdn. Bhd. and provide your opinion on these policies

Introduction and General Opinion

Sacofa’s policies on provision of services (as pertains to mobile service providers) and mobile telecommunication tower maintenance and service are examined in this paper (albeit in a cursory manner, for brevity). Opinions are provided on Sacofa’s policy implementation and results. The opinions expressed are that of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of any other individual or entity (i.e. Dr Al-Khalid and UNIMAS).
Sacofa Sdn. Bhd. is the sole telecommunications infrastructure provider in Sarawak, a rather self-defeating model of service, which is mysteriously common in our general geographical area.
Sacofa was established in 2001 [www.sacofa.com.my] with the vision of being “the national model of a total telecommunication network facilitator and service provider for all communication services operators in Malaysia”. Their official website further explains that Sacofa aims to be a One-Stop centre for providing a suite of telecommunication technology services. Sacofa was one of the only business ventures in the world to immediately achieve their vision and aims upon conception, as Sacofa secured a mandate with the state government to be the sole provider for telecommunication infrastructure services in Sarawak for 20 years (and perhaps more), ensuring that no other ventures would compete with Sacofa and hence making it the “One-Stop Centre” for everything, seeing as there isn’t really any other choice.
Sacofa’s official website goes on further to explain that Sacofa provides equal access to all industry players, and aims to ensure that no service provider becomes dominant in the state.
The reason or rationale for direct interference in market dynamics is not explained.
It is the opinion of the author that allowing competition among service providers for market dominance (as naturally occurs in the business environment) will directly benefit the end users in terms of cost, quality and coverage. Perhaps in future, the state government will consider open competition.

A Towering Responsibility: Sacofa’s Tower Threesome Policy

Sacofa provides telecommunication infrastructure services (i.e. they build towers) for Celcom, Maxis and Digi in Sarawak.
Sacofa’s policy on telecommunication towers dictates that Sacofa is the only entity that has the right to erect towers for telecommunication use anywhere in Sarawak. Furthermore, all three mobile service providers can have a maximum of 1 antenna per tower. Hence, each tower will have a maximum of 3 antennas, one for each mobile service provider.
This policy is said to originate from allegations a few years ago of unsafe practice by telecommunication companies (telcos) in Sarawak, especially in terms of installing antennas on buildings. Therefore, this policy is lauded as a guarantee that such things will not occur again.
However, isn’t that what laws, regulations and enforcement are for?
The author feels that there is poor justification on why a corporate (and rather profitable) entity needs to be created on a monopoly basis to control the installation of antennas, when international laws and regulations on safety already explicitly outline safety procedures and practices. All that would be needed is to ensure enforcement on the ground.
Isn’t that what the Malaysian Communications and Multimedia Commission (MCMC) is for? Or is that a less profitable option?
Furthermore, this policy restrains the ability of telcos to configure their mobile networks for optimum efficiency, as they have to adhere to tower locations chosen by Sacofa.
Again, if there is concern that these mobile companies will erect antennas indiscriminately (in someone’s durian farm or outhouse, for example), existing laws and regulations already exist to ensure that there are legal restrictions to doing so. All that would be needed is the enforcement.

Maintaining and Servicing of Towers

Sacofa assumes responsibility for general maintenance of towers, including preventive, troubleshooting and corrective actions. General electrical and safety guidelines are followed (current grounding, etc.). Cost sharing measures are carried out with the mobile service providers for operating costs, generator fuel (for towers running on generators) and safety.
It is the author’s opinion that Sacofa’s policy on maintenance and servicing is an effective cost cutting tool for the company and can provide another source of revenue.
On a hypothetical basis, it can be argued that this arrangement benefits the mobile service operators as the cost of maintaining and servicing a telecommunications tower is shared with Sacofa. However, this needs to be balanced against the potential gains in terms of user volume, quality of service and income from complimentary services to voice traffic (e.g. 3G, internet services, etc.).
It is the opinion of the author that the maintenance and service costs would hardly make a dent in the potential gains a dedicated tower for the mobile service operator would offer. Therefore, the cost sharing agreement is mainly a cost cutting tool for Sacofa.

Conclusion

From the author’s point of view, Sacofa’s policies as briefly investigated here, seem to be ultimately self serving. Although further, in depth studies may prove otherwise, the author believes at this time that an open market and healthy competition by mobile service providers for market dominance would benefit the end users in terms of cost, quality and coverage. Of course, this competition needs to be regulated through enforcement of existing safety laws and regulations.

Nokia Morph

2008-03-19T11:00:00.002+08:00

Nokia just (well just in relative terms) released a promo video on their Morph concept.

The Morph concept is Nokia's vision on how nanotechnology will change the nature and functions of our communication devices (i.e handphone lar). I'm not sure if the embed video will work so I'm providing the link on youtube as well.
http://www.youtube.com/v/Zto6aTZM9t0&hl

yea the embed doesnt work.

Movie Review: We are the Strange

2008-03-14T13:37:00.000+08:00

Yes, I've turned critic.
Someone once said, that critics are the shadows of failed poets, artists and writers, who take unholy pleasure in belittling the deserving works of those they secretly envy.

Ok maybe I said that. But its based on something some smart dude said.

Anyways I just watched a stop motion/ 3D action feature called We are the Strange.

This one’s a lil’ slippery so bear with me.

We are the Strange is created and produced by an independent studio called M.Strange.
The story is set inside some kind of techno city, indeed the entire story is told like a retro anime game using a combination of 3D and computer generated environments with stop-motion characters.

It revolves around Blue, a stripper who just got thrown out of her strip joint for a rather odd medical condition.
Anytime she speaks, smiles, or shows any kind of emotion, her skin turns scaly and pixilated.

With nowhere to go she wanders into the Forbidden Forest, where she meets eMMM, a battered poorly stitched and completely mismatched plastic doll (no, not THAT kind of plastic doll).

eMMM just wants ice-cream.

Together, they embark on a quest for ice-cream which takes them into the heart of the city.

But dark things stalk the city, and before long Blue and eMMM find themselves at the mercy of monsters straight out of a Standard 3 kids Play-Doh set.
The rest of the story revolves around eMMM finding a lil more than ice-cream, Blue discovering her inner popsicle (you gotta watch it to find out), and of course, the unveiling of the super-villain (package includes Hero-Villain showdown).

The story itself is formulaic, suffers from severe pacing problems (minutes long slow motion running scenes are the least of its problems), and the character development is almost juvenile.

This show does, however, have fantastic, surreal and mind-bending gothic visuals. In fact, they probably stitched the pretty visuals together to make a story.

The stop-motion direction is nothing to shout about. The CD cover boasts that the show is Monsters Inc. meets A Nightmare before Christmas in a retro Japanese videogame, but the stop motion comes nowhere close to Nightmare. Some of the motion is intentionally kept simple and even ridiculous to keep with the retro anime feel, but this simply hampers the telling of the story. And it can get annoying. A light touch would have made a world of difference.

The music will only appeal to hardcore electronica and techno fans. Or if you just popped some E’s and have nothin’ else to headbang to.

All in all this show’s a novelty. But the novelty wears out pretty fast. There isn’t enough to keep the viewer interested in the story.

1 out of 5.

Of Maulidur Rasul and Perarakan WAJIB

2008-03-14T13:28:00.001+08:00

Well Maulidur Rasul is around the corner, next thursday apparently. Which is quite interesting as Good Friday also falls next week (on a friday i think :P). I've just had an interesting planning session with my coursemates. We're planning to visit each other on the 2 days of celebration. I was in a great mood frankly, walkin back from class. It seems like all the hate-mongering and fear spreading on the inherent intolerance that multicultural societies MUST have (and therefore needs to be dealt with using patronizing, unfair and ultimately self-serving national policies) is just hate-mongering and fear spreading after all.

Then i just had to read a notice on the hostel notice board.

I could have gone the rest of the day in complete blissful ignorance.

But instead I JUST HAD to read that notice.

It read:
"Sempena Maulidur Rasul 2008, pihak kolej dan universiti akan mengadakan perarakan Maulidur Rasul. Semua warga kolej WAJIB hadir."
The notice then goes on to remind students that measures will be taken to check the attendance and further stresses that diciplinary action will be taken against students who do not attend i.e. may be sick, dying, busy, uninterested, feel that it is against their sensibilities to attend, or plain just have a life.

I have nothing against a perarakan for Maulidur Rasul. Thats your democratic right baby. Just make it orderly, peaceful, inclusive and respectful.

Heck if the notice had read:
"Sempena Maulidur Rasul 2008, pihak kolej dan universiti akan mengadakan perarakan Maulidur Rasul. Semua warga kolej DIJEMPUT hadir."
I'd go. Its not like I have a life.
If there was free food, I'd be the first one there.

So why is this such a big deal?
Because the university and kolej admin are not even considering that there may be some students who feel that it is against their sensibilities to attend a Muslim event. And that is their democratic right. They have the right to CHOOSE not to attend.
Its blatant steamrolling over other peoples opinions, beliefs and sensibilities. Enforced, no less, by threats of diciplinary action. Not very democratic izzit? And not the best way to encourage tolerance and acceptance. Great way to breed resentment.

I'm not goin to this charade. How can I? I'd just be there hating everybodys guts for forcing me to come. And thats not fair to my Muslim friends who may be there to just celebrate a good day in the Muslim calendar.
Besides, fuck you UNIMAS.

You know, if it had been an open invitation, i would definitely had gone. Just to mingle with my Muslim friends, find out what the celebration is about and why its so important. I would have loved to have learned something, made new friends, hell it could even have been a cultural experience.
More importantly it could have been a step to bring the students, regardless of race or religion, together as a Bangsa Malaysia.

Congratulations UNIMAS. Once again you have gone above and beyond to create a Bangsat Malaysia.

Contemporary and Forward Looking eh? Fuck you.

The Davos Question

2008-01-28T22:15:00.000+08:00

"What one thing do you think that countries, companies or individuals must do to make the world a better place in 2008?"

still working on this one :) let me noe ur ideas.

2008-01-27T22:34:00.000+08:00

Oh my.
It's been one of those days.
Rainy, muddy, gloomy and utterly depressing.
And to make things worse, my internet connection is bein such a bitch.
But hey thats life aite.
Neways i jz got a number of frantic text messages that the dreaded orang minyak has been sighted in USM.
Now frankly, this is a serious issue. I'm not sure if you're familiar with orang minyak lore. The orang minyak (literally oil man) is a serial rapist that thru some mojo or black magic cannot be caught (thought to be due to a magic spell that makes his body oily, and hence impossible to hold on to).
Frankly, i think the orang minyak is one of the poorer products of malay kampung literature, but the threat that he symbolizes is very real. I'm not sure what steps USM is taking to deal with the threat of a rapist on campus grounds, but I have been informed that basic safety announcements have been made (which means that if something happens to you, it's your own bloody fault because the university already WARNED you). I sincerely hope the USM and student hostel administration have the good sense and responsibility to increase security and ensure the safety of their students.
Rubi and Nadia, no late night walks please.

2008-01-25T16:31:00.000+08:00

After bein away from the blogging scene for about a year, I was hoping that my first few posts would be something worthwhile if not spectacular. Something to symbolize how much i've learned over the year or something that shows a newfound insight.
Alas, i seem to be thinking of nothing but chocolate waffles.
Well, not really. but mostly.
In the meantime, Kit Siang's blog is turning out to be an interesting read. just goin thru his rants bout the PKFZ. Is it just me, or is embezzlement and dishonest practice turning into a national pastime?
But lets not get into that really. The real reason am online is that I'm suppose to be doing research on good governance principles and the economic impact of AIDS. I would be, except the connection is crawling by on its last legs and I cant have more than 2 windows open. I'm familiar with the basic tenets of good governance, but I had no idea that our government's steamrolled on so many of them. Its an eye-opener really. But then again which government doesnt? Its just that they have the good manners not to make it too blatantly in your face. At least not to the majority voters.
And since when is Malaysia a democratic Islamic state? (Yes, you Mr. Malaysian Ambassador to Spain).
Last I checked the constitution states that we're secular.
But who gives a damn bout that piece of paper neways, no?
Is it the same election story comin up again? Everytime its election time, suddenly everybody loves indians, Malaysia is an islamic state but still very much secular and thaipusam is now a holiday (in some states, especially since there were some *ahem* disruptions there earlier).
Fuck you.

Waffles Syndrome

2008-01-25T16:20:00.000+08:00

I have waffles syndrome.
Its takin me a long time to come out of the closet bout it. But i think its about time I do.
I know things will never be the same again after this.
I can just imagine the stares, the hushed whispers.
But I am addicted to waffles.
Chocolate waffles.
Dark, delicious, creamy chocolate waffles.
I think I'm going to go get some waffles.

Redux

2007-12-26T22:47:00.000+08:00

Wow it's been almost exactly a year.
Haha it's not that i don't have anything to write right now. Quite the opposite. Feels like i have to give a reason for not being here for so long.
And for suddenly being back.
But you know what, I don't think I'm going to say anything bout those two things.
I'm here. That's all.

I've learned one very important thing in the past year.
Live here, now.

I've lived too much of my life in the past, or worrying bout the future, or drowning myself in a story.
No more.

Live here, now.

While Malaysia fiddles, It's opportunities are running dry by Michael Backman

2006-11-17T11:50:00.000+08:00

MALAYSIA'S been at it again, arguing about what proportion of the economy each of its two main races — the Malays and the Chinese — owns. It's an argument that's been running for 40 years. That wealth and race are not synonymous is important for national cohesion, but really it's time Malaysia grew up.
It's a tough world out there and there can be little sympathy for a country that prefers to argue about how to divide wealth rather than get on with the job of creating it.
The long-held aim is for 30 per cent of corporate equity to be in Malay hands, but the figure that the Government uses to justify handing over huge swathes of public companies to Malays but not to other races is absurd. It bases its figure on equity valued, not at market value, but at par value.
Many shares have a par value of say $1 but a market value of $12. And so the Government figure (18.9 per cent is the most recent figure) is a gross underestimate. Last month a paper by a researcher at a local think-tank came up with a figure of 45 per cent based on actual stock prices. All hell broke loose. The paper was withdrawn and the researcher resigned in protest. Part of the problem is that he is Chinese.
"Malaysia boleh!" is Malaysia's national catch cry. It translates to "Malaysia can!" and Malaysia certainly can. Few countries are as good at wasting money. It is richly endowed with natural resources and the national obsession seems to be to extract these, sell them off and then collectively spray the proceeds up against the wall.
This all happens in the context of Malaysia's grossly inflated sense of its place in the world.
Most Malaysians are convinced that the eyes of the world are on their country and that their leaders are world figures. This is thanks to Malaysia's tame media and the bravado of former prime minister Mahathir Mohamad. The truth is, few people on the streets of London or New York could point to Malaysia on a map much less name its prime minister or capital city.
As if to make this point, a recent episode of The Simpsons features a newsreader trying to announce that a tidal wave had hit some place called Kuala Lumpur. He couldn't pronounce the city's name and so made up one, as if no-one cared anyway. But the joke was on the script writers — Kuala Lumpur is inland.
Petronas, the national oil company is well run, particularly when compared to the disaster that passes for a national oil company in neighbouring Indonesia. But in some respects, this is Malaysia's problem. The very success of Petronas means that it is used to underwrite all manner of excess.

The KLCC development in central Kuala Lumpur is an example. It includes the Twin Towers, the tallest buildings in the world when they were built, which was their point.
It certainly wasn't that there was an office shortage in Kuala Lumpur — there wasn't.
Malaysians are very proud of these towers. Goodness knows why. They had little to do with them. The money for them came out of the ground and the engineering was contracted out to South Korean companies.
They don't even run the shopping centre that's beneath them. That's handled by Australia's Westfield.
Next year, a Malaysian astronaut will go into space aboard a Russian rocket — the first Malay in space. And the cost? $RM95 million ($A34.3 million), to be footed by Malaysian taxpayers. The Science and Technology Minister has said that a moon landing in 2020 is the next target, aboard a US flight. There's no indication of what the Americans will charge for this, assuming there's even a chance that they will consider it. But what is Malaysia getting by using the space programs of others as a taxi service? There are no obvious technical benefits, but no doubt Malaysians will be told once again, that they are "boleh". The trouble is, they're not. It's not their space program.
Back in July, the Government announced that it would spend $RM490 million on a sports complex near the London Olympics site so that Malaysian athletes can train there and "get used to cold weather".
But the summer Olympics are held in the summer.
So what is the complex's real purpose? The dozens of goodwill missions by ministers and bureaucrats to London to check on the centre's construction and then on the athletes while they train might provide a clue.
Bank bale outs, a formula one racing track, an entire new capital city — Petronas has paid for them all. It's been an orgy of nonsense that Malaysia can ill afford.
Why? Because Malaysia's oil will run out in about 19 years. As it is, Malaysia will become a net oil importer in 2011 — that's just five years
away.
So it's in this context that the latest debate about race and wealth is so sad.
It is time to move on, time to prepare the economy for life after oil. But, like Nero fiddling while Rome burned, the Malaysian Government is more interested in stunts like sending a Malaysian into space when Malaysia's inadequate schools could have done with the cash, and arguing about wealth distribution using transparently ridiculous statistics.
That's not Malaysia "boleh", that's Malaysia "bodoh" (stupid).
email: michaelbackman@yahoo.com
http://www.michaelbackman.com

2006-09-04T16:42:00.000+08:00

Congratulations are in order.
Yes folks, after all the sweat, blood and tears, the Unimas team once again lifted the Yayasan Sarawak World-Style Challenge Trophy. The first institution ever to do so consequtively.
I would like to congratulate Gary and Goh (or G2 as they're almost affectionately called) for their success. But success isn't just about getting a trophy (some would say it's about the prize money). Success is about overcoming the odds, having the passion and the willpower to make an commitment and having the courage to not just challenge others, but to challenge yourselves and your own perceptions. Therefore, I have to congratulate each and every member of the Unimas debate team. You have all been successful in this endeavor. You have all won against the odds and come out better and stronger. Here's towards a continued success. I look forward to seeing you grow and growing with you. Royals, here we come. Cheers.

2006-08-08T13:10:00.000+08:00

Came across this earlier. It's a school student in Indonesia describing how her team won a competition. I thought it was sweet.
http://flatstanley.enoreo.on.ca/indo/indonesia-borneodebate.htm

2006-08-07T11:42:00.000+08:00

If you ask some of my best friends about me, they'll tell you that the thing they enjoy most about my company ( besides my devillih good looks ) is my near maniacal love for understatement. But there are times when i cant help but gloat.
This is one of those times.
Yes, we made it into the finals.
No, not the finals as in judgment day.
The finals as in The 4th Yayasan Sarawak World Style English Debate Competition finals.
We sent 2 teams, UNIMAS-a and UNIMAS-b. UNIMAS-a was comprised of Soosai ( no relation to that other Soosai ), Hartini and Esther. Unfortunately, despite their best efforts and great performance, UNIMAS-a did not make it into the finals. UNIMAS-b, comprised of Gary and Goh ( or G2 as their almost affectionately called ) did make it into the finals, which will be held on the 28th of August at Dewan Tun Ahmad Zaidi, IPBL ( thats Institut Perguruan Batu Lintang for non-Kuchingites ). The UNIMAS debate team has always considered itself as one big, happy family. And G2's foray into the finals is a victory for us all. The kids are calling me their coach, but I was just the matchstick (pun intended) that lit the fire. The fire, the passion and the effort was all theirs. Kudos kids! Daddy is proud of you.
I'd also like to welcome Rohene and Prasha into the family.
The 4th Yayasan was memorable in many ways personally as well. It was the first time that i adjudicated, and the experience has proved fruitful. But more than that, I got to work with one of the best debaters Sarawak has to offer, Michael Temiotope. Michael and his teammate Gordon won the 2nd Yayasan and working with him in the Master's Round was quite an experience. We had some stiff competition from the boys (and girl) from Swinburne, but we managed to pull it off and emerge Champions.
Ok thats all for the moment. Cheers.

2006-07-28T12:04:00.000+08:00

It's too quiet.
I'm back in UNIMAS now, settling down into the teeth-grinding routine of getting up, goin to class, studying and going back to sleep. It doesn't sound so bad, but after weeks and weeks of doing the same things in the same order in the same way, I get a little edgy.
Yes, I can hear some of you going "Just wait til you get to working life..." We all need to feed our goldfish. But I can't help feeling confined, like I've been stuffed into a square box two sizes too small. What's worse, I'm bored. Now I know one of the reasons doomsday predictions are so popular. People want it to be the end of the world.
Not in the morbid sort of way. Nobody can actually picture themselves burnt to cinders or crushed by gigantic falling mountains. When someone says doomsday is coming, the believers can be divided into three types:
1) the "I'm gonna go to heaven and you suckers aren't" variety
2) the "I'm gonna be a hero like Bruce in Armageddon, except I'll find a way not to get blown to bits and find a hot chick" variety
and last but not least
3) the "i told you so" variety
Of course the lines aren't always so clearly divided. Most of the time, category 1 and 3 find themselves in one irritating package.
What do I think about doomsday? Well, all things end. Dinosaurs, Mammoths, Dodos, Seinfeld. There will be an end to the human race. Someday. Optimistically, maybe we'll just come to the end of our time, like all things do, and go out quietly. We'll leave behind marvels and knowledge that will puzzle some new younger civilization. On the other hand, we might blow ourselves up. Frankly, I hope we don't go out with a bang.

2006-07-04T12:49:00.000+08:00

Words have meanings.
Same words have same meanings.
Different words have different meanings.
Same words have different meanings.
Different words have same meanings.
So at the end of the day,
do words really have meaning?

2006-06-24T00:12:00.000+08:00

The greatest miracle on the planet is the washing machine.
You don't agree?
You think the greatest miracle is the Grand Canyon? Or the dolphin? Or your Uncle Bob croaking and leaving you that hefty inheritence?
Bah humbug!
I tell you, it's the washing machine.
You want to know why the washing machine rules?
First, enrol yourself in a local Uni miles and miles and (for dramatic effect) miles away from home ( and hence, your washing machine.) Then, proceed to procure ownership of garments that either a) stain easily or b) stain inexplicably all by themselves. Finally, spend two or three days a week squatting on the bathroom floor, furiously brushing away at your clothes and cursing.
Then we'll see you talk bout the Grand Canyon.

2006-06-18T23:46:00.000+08:00

Came across this quote. Any comments?

The religious mind does not belong to any group, any sect, any belief, any church, any organized circus; therefore it is capable of looking at things directly and understanding things immediately. Such is the religious mind, because it is a light to itself. Its light is not lit by another…

- J.Krishnamurti, Beyond Violence-

Truth is a pathless land and you cannot approach it by any path whatsoever, by any religion, by any sect. Truth, being limitless, unconditioned, unapproachable by any path whatsoever, cannot be organized; nor should any organization be formed to lead or to coerce people along any particular path. My only concern is to set humanity absolutely, unconditionally free. Man cannot come to it through any organization, through any creed, through any dogma, priest or ritual, not through any philosophic knowledge or psychological technique. He has to find it through the understanding of the contents of his own mind, through observation and not through intellectual analysis or introspective dissection.

- J.Krishnamurti-
For a better idea of what's going on in this guy's head, check out http://www.jkrishnamurti.org/

2006-06-16T00:14:00.000+08:00

…when Laplace was asked by Napoleon, how God fitted into his system, he replied, 'Sire, I have not needed that hypothesis.' I don't think that Laplace was claiming that God didn't exist. It is just that He doesn't intervene, to break the laws of Science. That must be the position of every scientist. A scientific law, is not a scientific law, if it only holds when some supernatural being, decides to let things run, and not intervene.

- Stephen Hawking, in his lecture Does God Play Dice?

…I think computer viruses should count as life. Maybe it says something about human nature, that the only form of life we have created so far is purely destructive. Talk about creating life in our own image.

- Stephen Hawking, Life in the Universe

www.hawking.org.uk

2006-06-14T00:32:00.000+08:00

All successful writers have a distinctive, compelling approach, a particular worldview that makes them unique. Look inside yourself. Find out who you are, find out what you're most afraid of. That will be your subject for your life, or until your fear changes. But I don't mean fear of heights or water or fire. Those are superficial symptoms of much deeper fears. Your true fear is like a ferret darting within the tunnels of your psyche, desperate not to be discovered.
The best fiction comes from a writer's compulsion to communicate traumatic personal events. Often the writer so represses those events that he or she isn't aware of the source of the compulsion. But whether consciously or not, this self-psychoanalysis makes a writer's work unique--because the psychological effects of trauma are unique to each person.
You can tell the bad writers from the good writers because bad writers are motivated by money and ego, whereas good writers practice their craft for the insistent reason that they MUST be writers, that they have no choice, that something inside them--the ferret--gnaws at their imagination and the festering pressure has to be released. Often daydreams are a signal of those pressures. They're spontaneous messages from the subconscious, subliminal hints about stories that want to be told.

-David Morrell-

2006-06-11T00:22:00.000+08:00

‘Dreaming of Retired Goldfish’
By Dhanen Mahes

I have it on good authority that goldfish, if not fed, die.
I don’t feed my goldfish. I write about feeding my goldfish, and they live happily and healthily in my imagination, but the bowl on my desk has turned brown and there haven’t been any fish in it for ages. No wait, there haven’t been any live fish in it for ages. Tim and Tom are still in there somewhere though, coalescing with the matter that fills their little goldfish universe.
What does feeding goldfish have to do with anything? Nothing. And everything. It’s one of those mechanical, mundane things we do everyday. Things that we have to do, to put food on the table, to pay our bills, to keep ourselves occupied and distracted from the worries of putting food on the table and paying our bills. Feeding goldfish is one of those things we never thought about when we daydreamed as children, but end up doing day in and day out as adults. Whatever happened to those dreams of adventure? Where are the heroes and explorers? The dreamers and the magicians and the space-pirates? What are they all doing ?
Feeding their goldfish, that’s what. Doing the mundane things we have to do everyday to keep the files from piling up, the traffic flowing smoothly and the house from falling down. Somewhere along the way, we put aside our dreams and assume the roles society has prepared for us. After all, we need people to do the filing, and to stamp those papers, and make those business calls. Dreams don’t put food on the table, do they? Nor do they pay the bills.

It is impossible to quest for the Holy Grail, when you are bogged down by mundane, but important, matters. Like goldfish. And mortgage. That’s why writers and directors, actors and singers find it for you, and hand it to you in a nice wrapping, so that you can open it, peruse it and throw it away when you don’t feel like playing with it anymore, and want to buy a new great adventure. Those movies that you watch, the songs that you listen to a hundred times a day, those are your dreams given life. It may be different dreams for different people, and a song that you love may be hated by your best friend, but everyone has songs or movies or plays that they love, because it reminds them of those unfulfilled dreams, those things they have to leave behind for so many reasons.
In the course of growing up, there are so many dreams that we have to forget or leave behind because they don’t have a place in reality, or because we aren’t in the position to make them come true. I had friends in school who dreamt of being doctors, but couldn’t afford private medical school when they weren’t offered places in the medical course at local public universities. Is it any surprise that those friends of mine are hooked on Grey’s Anatomy and House and other medical shows? These shows, these art forms allows them for one hour each week to live their dreams of being doctors, something that now will never become a reality.

This is a good time to ask what is art exactly? Is a painting in an art gallery art? Is a story told by your 5 year old art? You may think the answer seems obvious.
“Well, the painting is art because it’s in the museum. The story my five year old told about magic munchkins is just overactive imagination.”
But hang on, why is that painting art? Because the artist has a French name? Because nobody understands it? Because it’s hanging on the art gallery wall? And why isn’t that story told by your five year old art ?
Art is an expression of a person’s thoughts and feelings. It is a way of making sense of the world, and telling other people what you think of reality. It is a way of letting someone else into your head, communicating with another person and telling them something. That is why art is such an effective vehicle for voicing our frustrations with reality, and our shortcomings and our dreams. In many respects, I believe that your daughter’s story about magic munchkins is a purer, more exciting form of art. It’s not bogged down by commercial issues, your daughter isn’t worried if they’re going to broadcast her story, if anybody is going to buy the rights to produce it, if she’s going to make any money from it. She isn’t worried that society isn’t ready for it, or has moved away from it. She is simply expressing herself and her thoughts in a squeaky voice while dancing around the house in her favourite pink sweater, telling you stories about her magic munchkin friends. And she is a much more honest artist than a man with a fake French name, drawing something according to all the rules so that it will be accepted in an art gallery, and he’ll be on TV. That doesn’t mean the painting isn’t art. I’m just saying don’t take those stories and drawings and songs as junk just because they don’t fit the bill of how some people define art. Your friend Rachel who can make a trip to the grocery store sound like a grand adventure is an artist. You aunty who can make her son sound so much better than you, and drives your mom crazy, is an artist. When you lie to your boss about why you can’t come in early tomorrow, you’re telling a story, from your imagination. And that makes you an artist. Sounds like glorifying lying, but then again, any good story is just a convincing lie or half-truth. Try not to do it too often though.

Art was born because we dream. And art lives because not all our dreams come true. The cavemen started telling stories. Some told stories by painting fantastic hunts and festivals on cave walls. Some told stories through oral presentation, regaling the others on how they had hunted a herd of animals, peppering the story with little white lies to make it more interesting, to make themselves look stronger, braver, smarter, to impress the girls and the boys, to make up for their own perceived shortcomings. Others told stories of bountiful food during times of drought, or places far beyond where they were, that were full of food and pleasures, to give the others hope. The story inspired those who heard it. Nothing could stop imagination, the stories got better, the paintings became more vibrant. And thousands of years later, we’re still at it.

Hollywood, Bollywood, bestsellers, chart-toppers and porn stars. Our unfulfilled dreams brought to life. The unrepentant, unconquerable dreamer within us acting out against reality.
Life isn’t what we want it to be. And our imagination, our dreams are a way of acting out against that fact. Art gives our conscious and subconscious dreams and desires a presence in reality, and that is why we cannot survive without art. Imagine yourself in a world without beauty, without stories, without music. How long could you survive there without going mad?

So the next time your child tells you a story, listen. And tell him a nice story too. In fact, don’t be afraid to lose yourself in your dreams and your art every now and then. Write, draw, sing, dance. Don’t worry if you think you aren’t very good. Don’t worry about if anyone will like it or what they will think. Allow yourself some time to grieve for those things that will never come true. Enjoy your dreams, and the art that it inspires. Enjoy other people’s dreams, and the art that they inspire.

Just don’t forget to feed your goldfish.

2006-06-05T22:50:00.000+08:00

This is funny. I laughed. You will laugh too. Capiche?

Why Can't I Own a Canadian?
October 2002
Dr. Laura Schlessinger is a radio personality who dispenses advice to people who call in to her radio show. Recently, she said that, as an observant Orthodox Jew, homosexuality is an abomination according to Leviticus 18:22 and cannot be condoned under any circumstance. The following is an open letter to Dr. Laura penned by a east coast resident, which was posted on the Internet. It's funny, as well as informative:

Dear Dr. Laura:
Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from your show, and try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of debate. I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some of the other specific laws and how to follow them:
When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord - Lev.1:9. The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?
I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?
I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness - Lev.15:19- 24. The problem is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.
Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?
I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself?
A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an abomination - Lev. 11:10, it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this?
Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room here?
Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev. 19:27. How should they die?
I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?
My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? - Lev.24:10-16. Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)
I know you have studied these things extensively, so I am confident you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and unchanging.
Your devoted fan,Jim

2006-05-30T20:44:00.000+08:00

Well I finally did it. I sent something to get published.
I really have to thank Sham chechi for getting me into it. Even if it doesn't make it to print, or rather, to monitor screens everywhere, I still feel a sense of accomplishment. I did something with myself. Thanks chechi!
I was born on World Toilet Day by the way.
I know it comes as a shock to most of you. I'm sure you were expecting something important, something earth-shaking to have happened the day I was born.
No? Why not?
's ok I don't hold it against you. Well, I expected that something important would have happened on my birthday. Like an important discovery or something. Anybody know when they discovered Oreos? You don't know that either? What have you been doing with yourself ?
It's ok if I don't know when they discovered Oreos. I've been too busy eating them.
World Toilet Day man. wOrLD tOiLeT daY.
I guess World Toilet Day is important too. Not as important as World Living Room day, or World Garden Patio day, but still important. Where would we be without toilets ? Behind bushes, thats where.
So appreciate your toilet. Do something nice for it. Buy it some flowers, take it out to dinner. At least get it a card, man.
"To the best toilet in the world - Stink you very much"
Get it ? Get it ? I replaced thank with stink. Isn't that clever?
No?
You're impossible.

2006-05-27T01:23:00.000+08:00

Bad Movie, But Don't Dismiss It
'The Da Vinci Code' was boring and full of historical inaccuracies--but we can't dismiss its central notion of a married Jesus.

Bishop John Shelby Spong, the retired Episcopal bishop of Newark, N.J., writes a weekly online column on faith, politics and the events that shape our lives. To learn more and receive a free month of Bishop Spong’s insightful columns, visit http://www.bishopspong.com/free.

To get into the theater for the first New Jersey showing of "The Da Vinci Code," I had to walk past a small picket line of three local Catholic women saying their rosaries and carrying a sign that read, “'The Da Vinci Code' insults our Lord and his Church. Stop blasphemy.” Presenting my press card, I asked for an interview. They told me they were part of a statewide Catholic effort to oppose the distortions of their faith in “The Da Vinci Code.” When I asked if they had read the book, they answered, “No,” and then said they would not think of reading blasphemy. “How do you then know that it insults your Lord and his Church?” I inquired. “Our church said so,” they responded. I next asked if they had seen Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ.” “Oh yes,” they said, “that was wonderful.” Are you aware, I continued, that most biblical scholars think Mel Gibson’s film grossly distorted the New Testament portrait of the crucifixion by blending it with medieval Catholic piety? “Our church told us that it was true,” they intoned. That interview was going nowhere, so I departed, recalling the words of an evangelical leader who said, “We live in a Jesus-haunted culture that is biblically illiterate.”
I am neither a fan of detective stories nor of the cinema. My chief experience in viewing this motion picture was boredom. The plot was beyond credibility, the claimed historical basis was badly flawed, and the acting, other than that of two supporting characters, was not spectacular. Despite its chases and violence, I found it slow-moving. Had the story not been draped around the central icon of the religious tradition that has informed our civilization, I do not believe it would come close to having the appeal of the “007” series--or even “Murder, She Wrote.” Keeping the heirs of Jesus concealed for more than 2,000 years in order to preserve a theologically correct interpretation of Jesus as the Incarnation of God and the second person of the Holy Trinity is a bizarre theme, to say the least. The titillating idea that Jesus was married to Mary Magdalene and that this union produced a daughter--who in turn kept the divine bloodline of Jesus alive for all those centuries, despite a massive ecclesiastical plot to destroy this theological bombshell--makes for good theater, but it doesn’t make for good history. First of all, the time between Jesus and today represents a minimum of 60 generations. Even if the union of Jesus and Magdalene had produced an heir, the percentage of "divine blood" present in any heirs by the 60th generation would be infinitesimal. The idea that, after 60 generations, this bloodline resided in a single 21st-century woman--and not in literally hundreds of thousands of heirs--is patently absurd, unless each generation had only a single child. When I asked the picketers how this movie insults Jesus, they pointed to its storyline about Jesus marrying and having a child. I found in those words the negative attitudes about women that are rooted in the patriarchal sexism practiced by the Christian Church through the centuries. Is there something evil about marriage and childbirth? Is marriage a compromise with sin, as the Church fathers have proclaimed? St. Jerome went so far as to argue that the only redeeming feature of marriage was that it produced more virgins. I do not believe that women are the corrupters of “holy men.” Yet that idea lingers on in a church that installed mandatory celibacy and unnatural virginity as pathways to holiness. What those “ideals” produced, however, has been little more than distorted sexuality and massive amounts of debilitating guilt. It's true that nowhere in the Bible does it say that Jesus was married. But before anyone feels too relieved at this news, nowhere in the Bible does it say that he was not married. Yet Mark, Matthew, and Luke all assert that a band of women accompanied Jesus and the disciples all the way from Galilee to Jerusalem. Under the Jewish social and cultural norms of that time, these women could have been only one of two things: wives or prostitutes. When these women were listed in the biblical texts, Magdalene was always placed first, as if she had a claim to status the other women did not possess. Of course, these hints constitute only circumstantial evidence, but they do raise questions and open the door to a way to read the gospels outside the box of literalism.

2006-05-26T13:42:00.000+08:00

This one is from a show, Rang De Basanti. It's very poignant, especially considering what's going on in the papers at the moment. It's originally in Hindi, entitled 'Luka Chupi' (Hide and Seek), and it's a mother's lament for her lost son.

This game of hide and seek has gone on too long
come home now, won't you?
I've searched high and low,
these old eyes are weary
come home now, won't you?
Dusk is spreading like the ache in my heart
my vision blurs
come home now, won't you?

2006-05-20T08:54:00.000+08:00

'You've got to find what you love,' Jobs says
This is the text of the Commencement address by Steve Jobs, CEO of Apple Computer and of Pixar Animation Studios, delivered on June 12, 2005.

I am honored to be with you today at your commencement from one of the finest universities in the world. I never graduated from college. Truth be told, this is the closest I've ever gotten to a college graduation. Today I want to tell you three stories from my life. That's it. No big deal. Just three stories.
The first story is about connecting the dots.
I dropped out of Reed College after the first 6 months, but then stayed around as a drop-in for another 18 months or so before I really quit. So why did I drop out?
It started before I was born. My biological mother was a young, unwed college graduate student, and she decided to put me up for adoption. She felt very strongly that I should be adopted by college graduates, so everything was all set for me to be adopted at birth by a lawyer and his wife. Except that when I popped out they decided at the last minute that they really wanted a girl. So my parents, who were on a waiting list, got a call in the middle of the night asking: "We have an unexpected baby boy; do you want him?" They said: "Of course." My biological mother later found out that my mother had never graduated from college and that my father had never graduated from high school. She refused to sign the final adoption papers. She only relented a few months later when my parents promised that I would someday go to college.
And 17 years later I did go to college. But I naively chose a college that was almost as expensive as Stanford, and all of my working-class parents' savings were being spent on my college tuition. After six months, I couldn't see the value in it. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life and no idea how college was going to help me figure it out. And here I was spending all of the money my parents had saved their entire life. So I decided to drop out and trust that it would all work out OK. It was pretty scary at the time, but looking back it was one of the best decisions I ever made. The minute I dropped out I could stop taking the required classes that didn't interest me, and begin dropping in on the ones that looked interesting.
It wasn't all romantic. I didn't have a dorm room, so I slept on the floor in friends' rooms, I returned coke bottles for the 5¢ deposits to buy food with, and I would walk the 7 miles across town every Sunday night to get one good meal a week at the Hare Krishna temple. I loved it. And much of what I stumbled into by following my curiosity and intuition turned out to be priceless later on. Let me give you one example:
Reed College at that time offered perhaps the best calligraphy instruction in the country. Throughout the campus every poster, every label on every drawer, was beautifully hand calligraphed. Because I had dropped out and didn't have to take the normal classes, I decided to take a calligraphy class to learn how to do this. I learned about serif and san serif typefaces, about varying the amount of space between different letter combinations, about what makes great typography great. It was beautiful, historical, artistically subtle in a way that science can't capture, and I found it fascinating.
None of this had even a hope of any practical application in my life. But ten years later, when we were designing the first Macintosh computer, it all came back to me. And we designed it all into the Mac. It was the first computer with beautiful typography. If I had never dropped in on that single course in college, the Mac would have never had multiple typefaces or proportionally spaced fonts. And since Windows just copied the Mac, its likely that no personal computer would have them. If I had never dropped out, I would have never dropped in on this calligraphy class, and personal computers might not have the wonderful typography that they do. Of course it was impossible to connect the dots looking forward when I was in college. But it was very, very clear looking backwards ten years later.
Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life.
My second story is about love and loss.
I was lucky — I found what I loved to do early in life. Woz and I started Apple in my parents garage when I was 20. We worked hard, and in 10 years Apple had grown from just the two of us in a garage into a $2 billion company with over 4000 employees. We had just released our finest creation — the Macintosh — a year earlier, and I had just turned 30. And then I got fired. How can you get fired from a company you started? Well, as Apple grew we hired someone who I thought was very talented to run the company with me, and for the first year or so things went well. But then our visions of the future began to diverge and eventually we had a falling out. When we did, our Board of Directors sided with him. So at 30 I was out. And very publicly out. What had been the focus of my entire adult life was gone, and it was devastating.
I really didn't know what to do for a few months. I felt that I had let the previous generation of entrepreneurs down - that I had dropped the baton as it was being passed to me. I met with David Packard and Bob Noyce and tried to apologize for screwing up so badly. I was a very public failure, and I even thought about running away from the valley. But something slowly began to dawn on me — I still loved what I did. The turn of events at Apple had not changed that one bit. I had been rejected, but I was still in love. And so I decided to start over.
I didn't see it then, but it turned out that getting fired from Apple was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. The heaviness of being successful was replaced by the lightness of being a beginner again, less sure about everything. It freed me to enter one of the most creative periods of my life.
During the next five years, I started a company named NeXT, another company named Pixar, and fell in love with an amazing woman who would become my wife. Pixar went on to create the worlds first computer animated feature film, Toy Story, and is now the most successful animation studio in the world. In a remarkable turn of events, Apple bought NeXT, I returned to Apple, and the technology we developed at NeXT is at the heart of Apple's current renaissance. And Laurene and I have a wonderful family together.
I'm pretty sure none of this would have happened if I hadn't been fired from Apple. It was awful tasting medicine, but I guess the patient needed it. Sometimes life hits you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith. I'm convinced that the only thing that kept me going was that I loved what I did. You've got to find what you love. And that is as true for your work as it is for your lovers. Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven't found it yet, keep looking. Don't settle. As with all matters of the heart, you'll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on. So keep looking until you find it. Don't settle.
My third story is about death.
When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: "If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right." It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: "If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?" And whenever the answer has been "No" for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.
Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything — all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure - these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.
About a year ago I was diagnosed with cancer. I had a scan at 7:30 in the morning, and it clearly showed a tumor on my pancreas. I didn't even know what a pancreas was. The doctors told me this was almost certainly a type of cancer that is incurable, and that I should expect to live no longer than three to six months. My doctor advised me to go home and get my affairs in order, which is doctor's code for prepare to die. It means to try to tell your kids everything you thought you'd have the next 10 years to tell them in just a few months. It means to make sure everything is buttoned up so that it will be as easy as possible for your family. It means to say your goodbyes.
I lived with that diagnosis all day. Later that evening I had a biopsy, where they stuck an endoscope down my throat, through my stomach and into my intestines, put a needle into my pancreas and got a few cells from the tumor. I was sedated, but my wife, who was there, told me that when they viewed the cells under a microscope the doctors started crying because it turned out to be a very rare form of pancreatic cancer that is curable with surgery. I had the surgery and I'm fine now.
This was the closest I've been to facing death, and I hope its the closest I get for a few more decades. Having lived through it, I can now say this to you with a bit more certainty than when death was a useful but purely intellectual concept:
No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.
Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.
When I was young, there was an amazing publication called The Whole Earth Catalog, which was one of the bibles of my generation. It was created by a fellow named Stewart Brand not far from here in Menlo Park, and he brought it to life with his poetic touch. This was in the late 1960's, before personal computers and desktop publishing, so it was all made with typewriters, scissors, and polaroid cameras. It was sort of like Google in paperback form, 35 years before Google came along: it was idealistic, and overflowing with neat tools and great notions.
Stewart and his team put out several issues of The Whole Earth Catalog, and then when it had run its course, they put out a final issue. It was the mid-1970s, and I was your age. On the back cover of their final issue was a photograph of an early morning country road, the kind you might find yourself hitchhiking on if you were so adventurous. Beneath it were the words: "Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish." It was their farewell message as they signed off. Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish. And I have always wished that for myself. And now, as you graduate to begin anew, I wish that for you.
Stay Hungry. Stay Foolish.
Thank you all very much.

2006-05-16T22:07:00.000+08:00

Dreaming of Retired Goldfish
I haven’t written in two days. And honestly, it’s worse than nicotine withdrawal, which I happen to be having as well, thank you very much.
Writing is about the only thing that keeps me sane, and it is the single biggest threat to my sanity, or at least, what my friends and family view as the last battered vestige of my sanity.
Because I’m starting to strongly suspect that I may, in fact, be quite insane. .
And why not. After all, no sane person spends almost every waking hour and every sleeping hour concocting tale after tale of misadventure and strife and hope and lost love. They have better things to do. Like feeding their goldfish. It may sound mundane, but I have it on good authority, that goldfish if not fed, die.
I don’t feed my goldfish. I write about feeding my goldfish, and they live happily and healthily in my imagination, but the bowl on my desk has turned brown, and there haven’t been any fish in it for ages. No wait, there haven’t been any live fish in it for ages. Tim and Tom are still in there somewhere though. Part of the matter of their goldfish universe now.
A lot of people live an imagined life. They dream of that amazing presentation that makes them a permanent partner in the company, those amazing words that sweep the woman of their dreams off her feet and into their arms and a marriage, mortgage and children, those great adventures on a yacht across the open sea with their best friends, the achievement, the adventure, the life. But they never live them. Instead they turn to people like me, who sell them cheap imitations of their dreams, which we steal from them as it leaks out of their ears when they snore. It’s pretty neat actually. You see it in print, in celluloid, on the net in a hundred different forms. The fictional adventure where the hero is daring and suave, or the scandalous article where the writer narrates an unspeakably immoral act and we lap it up with relish. Those are only two examples, I don’t have the attention span to think of any more.
It is impossible of course, to quest for the Holy Grail, when you are bogged down by mundane, but important, matters. Like goldfish. That’s why people like me find it for you, and hand it to you in a nice wrapping, so that you can open it, peruse it and throw it away when you don’t feel like playing with it anymore and want to buy a new great adventure.
But what would happen if I didn’t exist? What if Dan Brown had never written The Da Vinci Code? What if King and Wells and Shakespeare and Milton and Homer had all sold apples for a living?
Well, we’d be swimming in apples, that’s for sure.
But more importantly, would the world as we know it today exist?

2006-05-07T15:23:00.000+08:00

Me dumb. Me no talk. Me no write. Me toyol write. Me eat, grow beer gut and see football on tv.
At least, thats how I'm supposed to act, from what I can figure. "Would it spoil some vast eternal plaaannn?" if i were another man ?

2006-05-02T15:49:00.007+08:00

"Once"

I admit it...what's to say...yeah...
I'll relive it...without pain...mmm...
Backstreet lover on the side of the road
I got a bomb in my temple that is gonna explode
I got a sixteen gauge buried under my clothes, I play...
Once upon a time I could control myself
Ooh, once upon a time I could lose myself, yeah...
Oh, try and mimic what's insane...ooh, yeah...
I am in it...where do I stand?
Oh, Indian summer and I hate the heat
I got a backstreet lover on the passenger seat
I got my hand in my pocket, so determined, discreet...I pray...
Once upon a time I could control myself
Ooh, once upon a time I could lose myself, yeah, yeah...
You think I got my eyes closed
But I'm lookin' at you the whole fuckin' time...
Ooh, once upon a time I could control myself, yeah...
Once upon a time I could lose myself, yeah, yeah, yeah...
Once, upon a time I could love myself, yeah...
Once upon a time I could love you, yeah, yeah, yeah...
Once [4x]
Yeah...once, once...yeah, yeah...
Yeah...yeah, yeah...yeah, yeah...oww...

Pearl Jam

2006-05-02T15:49:00.006+08:00

"Mankind"

you'll be
going out with radio
going out with disco
going out like bacchanal
i'll be
going out with telephone
going out alone
to the radar zone
it's all just inadvertant imitation
and i don't mean mine
it's all across this nation
if it's just inadvertant simulation
a pattern in all mankind
what's got the whole world faking?
i'll be playing with my magazine
using up my listerine
like ovaltine
and you'll be
dipping in your battleship
for the latest tip
for the latest dream
it's all just inadvertant imitation
and i don't mean mine
it's all across this nation
if it's just inadvertant simulation
a pattern in all mankind
what's got the whole world faking?
if it's just inadvertant imitation
a pattern in all mankind
what's got the whole world faking?
what's got the whole world faking?
what's got the whole world faking?

Pearl Jam

2006-05-02T15:49:00.005+08:00

"Red Mosquito"

watched from the window, with a red mosquito
i was not allowed to leave the room
i saw the sun go down, and now it's coming up
somewhere in the time between
i was bitten, must have been the devil
he was just paying me...
a little visit, reminding me of his presence
letting me know, he's a-waiting... oh
red man's your neighbor, call it behavior
while you're climbing up slippery hills
two steps ahead of him, punctures in your neck
hovering just above your bed
hovering just above your bed
i was bitten, must have been the devil
he was just paying me...
a little visit, reminding me of his presence
and letting me know, he's a'waiting, he's a'waiting...
up there... yeah
if i had known then what i know now...
if i had known then what i know now...
if i had known then what i know now...
if i had known then what i know now...

Pearl Jam

2006-05-02T15:49:00.004+08:00

"Jeremy"

at home
drawing pictures
of mountain tops
with him on top
lemon yellow sun
arms raised in a V
dead lay in pools of maroon below

daddy didn't give attention
to the fact that mommy didn't care
king jeremy the wicked
ruled his world

Jeremy spoke in class today
Jeremy spoke in class today

clearly I remember
pickin' on the boy
seemed a harmless little fuck
but we unleashed a lion
gnashed his teeth
and bit the recess lady's breast

how could I forget
he hit me with a surprise left
my jaw left hurtin
dropped wide open
just like the day
like the day I heard

daddy didn't give affection
and the boy was something mommy wouldn't wear
king Jeremy the wicked
ruled his world

Jeremy spoke in class today
Jeremy spoke in class today
try to forget this...
try to erase this...
from the blackboard.

Pearl Jam

2006-05-02T15:49:00.003+08:00

This is a little bit from Toyol. It's a parody of male chauvinism. Comments? Yes, i know it makes you cringe. That's the idea. How will I ever be famous if nobody wants to kill me ?

Toyol

Of course I’m real. If I weren’t, I wouldn’t be writing this now would I? Or rather, the scrawny, bespectacled excuse of a human male wouldn’t be writing it for me. He says his name is Danny, but I’m going to call him Piggy. I’ve got him by the balls, I do. And just as expected of any male, he’s quite unhappy about the idea of losing his genitalia, them being his primary organ for thought and logic. I’m quite smart for a toyol, you see. Not that my compatriots aren’t bright, it’s just that they’re quite dumb. Ever since I was a kutty toyol, that’s a little toyol, I’ve been interested in studying humans. I’ve observed them from the little, dark corners of their rooms, those places the fluorescent lights never seem to reach. From under their piles of dirty laundry, which I must add, is one of my favourite places. And from any of the small dark places humans seem not to notice. But the dirty laundry piles are my favourite. I’ve learned a lot about humans. For instance, I know that human females do not think with their genitalia, unlike the males, and are the smarter of the two. That’s because instead of one brain, they have two, on their chests. An odd thing is that their intelligence seems to be inverse to the size of their brains. I haven’t discovered why it’s this way, but I will soon enough. Piggy seems to be quite opposed to the fact that a woman’s intelligence has anything to do with her bosom. But he is curiously silent on the issue of a man’s intelligence.
As I am currently unable to use the giant box this human seems to be glued to all the time, I am forced to dictate. It is not easy. Being merely male, he occasionally forgets the dire situation he is in and voices his frustration. Of course, his opinion means nothing. But I have included it here to give you, the reader, an idea of the amount of effort I am putting into bringing you this text. Thinking about it, the opinions of this human will serve as an interesting insight into the inane workings of a human male’s mind and may prove to be humorous.
And who should be reading this text?
Well, that is the most pertinent question. I am dictating it with the average demon in mind, those of you who have become ignorant to the roles we toyols play in society, indeed, have become ignorant to the fact of our existence at all. Many of you forget that you have toyol blood in you. Many of you are aware of it, but are loathe to admit it, hiding it among yourselves, speaking of the teachings of the toyol kind in hushed voices in secluded places, when you are sure no one might overhear. But the toyol lives in you. And may it live long and well.

2006-05-02T15:49:00.002+08:00

Talent is interest refined by practice into ability.

2006-05-02T15:49:00.001+08:00

I wrote a poem. And it;s only slightly abominable.

You
Hold the bait
For the children
And laugh as they run

Helter-skelter
Up and down
For the prize
They think they’ve found

2006-04-27T13:23:00.000+08:00

I'm back. I didn't lose my fingers and I'm not dead. Well, not totally dead. Only braindead. Virtually :)

So give me cofee and tv
History
Seen so much I'm goin' blind
and I'm braindead virtually

Thats by Blur. I'm not goin to write bout anything today. Just going to muse. The Foo Fighters have a few good ones in their not so new album.

Shame on you
seducing everyone
Faded you
your diamond in the rough

You don't have to tell me
I know where you've been
Shining once again

Will you do
The thing you've always done
Tell me true
I think you know the one
The one that makes me blurry
Colours start to run

Every time I wonder
I go under

The deeper the blues the more I see black
The sweeter the brew the feeling starts comin back
All the deepest blues are black

Really cool one that. I've heard it again and again. But Still was extremely poignant, seeing as a junior of mine comitted suicide recently. It keeps reminding me of him.

If you'd like to walk a while
we could waste a day
Follow me into the trees
I will lead the way

Bring some change up to the bridge
Bring some alcohol
There we'll make a final wish
just before the fall

Promise I will be forever yours
Promise not to say another word
Nevermind what's done is done
always was a lucky one

Watch the sunrise all alone
sitting on the tracks
Hear the train come roaring in
never coming back...

Laying quiet in the grass
everything is still
river stones and broken bones
scattered on the hill

Promise I will be forever yours
Promise not to say another word
Here forever deep beneath the dirt
Nevermind whats done is done
Always was a lucky one

Summore wat ar ? Most of the stuff in that album is pretty good. Listening to pearl jam and velvet revolver rite now. And Alanis has somehow managed to catch my ear. Forgiven, and some other stuff has really good writing. It just drips with sarcasm. OK i've decided to stop.

2006-04-20T11:37:00.000+08:00

You Should Be a Film Writer

You don't just create compelling stories, you see them as clearly as a movie in your mind.
You have a knack for details and dialogue. You can really make a character come to life.
Chances are, you enjoy creating all types of stories. The joy is in the storytelling.
And nothing would please you more than millions of people seeing your story on the big screen!

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

2006-04-10T19:25:00.002+08:00

My heart is torn from my breast.

It has left its home
to soar on the winds
that play among the hills
of my adopted home.

Somewhere in the hidden valleys;

Where the sky paints its potraits
with wandering clouds;

Where springs burst forth
white and pure;

And all the magic still left in this world
lie curled asleep;
waiting to be awakened
by a heart borne on the reckless wind.

2006-04-10T19:25:00.001+08:00

The sorting hat says that I belong in Gryffindor!

Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those with brave deeds to their name."

Students of Gryffindor are typically brave, daring, and chivalrous.
Famous members include Harry, Ron, Hermione, Albus Dumbledore (head of Hogwarts), and Minerva McGonagall (head of Gryffindor).

Take the most scientific Harry Potter
Quiz ever created.

Get Sorted Now!

2006-03-27T19:21:00.000+08:00

A letter to Rubi.

I am writing this message because i love you. More than anything else on this earth. And i have spent days and nights worrying and wondering about how you are going to fare, and fit in this new world you have been suddenly thrust into - the pseudo-adult life of tertiary education. When i first read your entry ( and I have read it a few time since ), i tried to remember myself at your age. It may not seem like such a hard thing to do, since it was only two years ago! But my mind has changed at a terrific pace since then, and i hardly recognise the person i left behind anymore. Some of my decisions and actions at that time may have seemed puzzling, even idiotic to you, as they seem to me now. This is because i functioned on the assumption that values like love and honour and truth had no place in so dark and devious a world that i had discovered outside our home. How i had come to that conclusion is not important anymore, as i have discovered that world a false one. But i worry that you may lose yourself in that same lie, and that it may swallow you.
I am not saying that you will repeat my foolish decisions. I am saying that i intend to do everything in my power to help you make the right decisions. So i have written this thing about relationships, in the hope that you will easily come to understand something that it took me great pains to learn.
Don't fret about relationships that don't last. It is in the nature of things to change. Sometimes change is good- and you grow together, sometimes not - and you go separate ways. You will be suprised how many people say the same thing- that they can't seem to find a friendship or a love that will last a lifetime. You must understand that you are not the only one and there is nothing wrong with you.
Some friendships will be casual ones where you say hi and bye and smile and forget. Some friendships you will feel secure and comfortable in, and will want them to last forever. But things may change, people may change and you may go your separate ways. And at some point in time your paths may converge again. But remember, you will never walk the path you choose alone. There will always be someone else walking the same path, and you might just become new very good friends.
Appreciate and respect the people that are worth it, but be careful of giving too much. Sometimes we take for granted the people that give us everything. If times change and your friends are still people worthy of your love and respect, then go on and give it. If not, wrench yourself away. Dont sink with the ship.
Dont become disheartened if you see relationships that dont seem to last, or people who are terrible, even evil. In fact, I thought for a long time before deciding to write this message. I did not want you to become jaded and think that love and friendship is worth nothing if it does not mean forever. I have met people who have walked that road, and it has broken them. They become so convinced that they do not see the true love that they have. Remember that no matter how things change, a person worthy of your love and respect will always impart the same to you. They will love you, respect you and look out for you. If they do not share these values with you, forget about them. They are nothing but opportunists and parasites, looking for their next meal.
When the veil of childhood has been lifted from your eyes, and you look upon the world for the first time in all its terrible beauty, remember that it is always the small black dot that you see first on the white sheet of paper. Keep true to your conscience and your values, and you will soon find that darkness retreats from you, and those that share your values will come to your side. And always remember, come hell or high water, I will stand by you. Even if you ask me stupid questions and call me a gibu :)

2006-03-07T14:36:00.000+08:00

Grima Wormtongue.
Who ?
That dude in the Lord of the Rings, the one that poisons the mind of the king with his forked tongue.
Now who in blue blazes names their kid Grima Wormtongue? With parents like that it's no wonder the boy grew up to be such a detestable sort. Imagine the trauma he must have gone through as a child. But does that excuse him from being a royal prick ? ( No pun intended, honest.)
One might argue that he cannot be held responsible for being the way he is, we humans being the sum of our experiences, unable to move beyond the circle of things that have affected us. The human brain does not create new experiences or ideas, it simply recombines things it has already learned into new forms, like a child playing with a 12 piece Lego set. Applying this to our friend Grima, we might argue that being given such a name, not to mention a forked tongue and a complexion not even the geekiest geek could match, have resulted in a traumatic experience for him, and his only coping mechanism has been to turn people against each other, with said funky forked tongue. Following this line of argument, he isn't responsible for what he did or does. We are. Everybody but him, for whatever real or imagined harm that might have befallen him.
But this argument refuses to look at one thing. The one most important thing that makes us who we are and what we are. Self-awareness. You are aware of your actions, and also how it affects others. You may choose to ignore how your action helps or hurt others, but this is also your choice. You are free, indeed you cannot help but learn if what you are doing is right or wrong in the basic moral sense.
So either Grima knew what he was doing was wrong and chose to do it anyway, or he chose to ignore how it affects others. Either way you are still responsible for your own actions.
I have wondered if what he does is excusable. From the moral sense of course, it isn't. From the machiavellian ( I'm not saying machiavellianism is the flip side of morality, it's simply another way of viewing things. ) point of view, he took the most logical step in the current situation. He waged a P.R war. He separated his enemies and deceived them, which any battlefield commander would light a cigar for achieving. His sheer talent for deception is almost commendable.
So now we have two very conflicting views of this man's actions. One view says that he is a villain for practising deception. The other says that he is a hero, a genius who achieved something military tacticians sweat and cry over.
It's not the purpose of this essay to decide which view is correct, that would, in fact, be impossible. It is not the purpose of this essay to judge funky fork-tongued Grima. But does Grima's past and his present, absolve him of guilt for wrongdoing, the hurt he has caused others ?
No, it does not. Because he has a choice. And he made that choice. And he paid for it. Causality's a bitch isn't it?

2006-03-03T11:24:00.000+08:00

Part 3: Intermission

For those of you smart enough not to get your feet stuck in the quagmire that is tamil cinema, an intermission comes in the middle of a three hour melodrama fest and is an opportunity for you to either take a pee or shoot yourself in the head for coming to watch the show in the first place.
And for those of you who know me well enough, you may have deduced that sentences without punctuation is a clear sign that I've reverted to my coffee addiction.
Exam season is always a weird time. The whole space-time continuum gets disrupted. Suddenly, perfectly normal adults start wandering around the middle of the night, mumbling to themselves about Maxwell's Equations, staring hazily at the world through sunken eyes, pale faces and dishevelled hair, surviving on coffee fed into their bloodstream through I.V drips. It's surreal.
Anyway, I resolutely plan not to take up to much of your time, those of you reading this- all one of you. I just thought it would be an interesting break from the Miri story for a while. Midterms, so you know how that is. Finals are in about five weeks. I'm thinking about taking an extra language subject, maybe French or German, but that will mean staying for the third semester which cuts into my prrrrrreciousssss holidayyssesss. What else? Just finished a story called Red. I'm working on a satire called The Toyol Biographies. Yes, it's as stupid as it sounds.
And I will be serving up the last part of the Miri story after the midterms. Currently playing with some ideas for an article to contribute. Special thanks to Sham for recommending Think. And congrats to Govind on being happily employed.
Alright, alright, I'll shut up already. Thats all folks.

2006-02-20T11:44:00.000+08:00

Chapter 2: Miri and Murder

No, nobody died. I just couldn't come up with a more interesting word that starts with m.
As you would expect thought, we managed to patch up the water pump, if only temporarily and resumed our journey. The going was slow, as we had to stop in the middle of nowhere to let the engine cool down every couple of hours, and as night spread its cloak things got downright creepy out there. There's all kinds of sounds you cant put a name to, and the mist lets you see about as far as your outstretched arm.
And the condition of the road was unbelievable. Here was the only road between Bintulu and Miri on the map and it was shot with more holes than a sponge. We had to drive slow and very, very carefully. Without street lights or road signs, it became a total nightmare.
All that time, I was envisioning the moment we would arrive at Miri. After all this trouble, it had to be something really dramatic, something to alleviate all the suffering we went through to get here- the roads, the cramps, the anxiety, the danger of driving of the road and headlong into a ravine - it had to be one of those experiences that you recall sometime in the future and remark "...but it was worth it."
Well, it was and it wasn't.
We came in to Miri through a satellite town that had grown around it, and we were happily stunned by how well organised the town was, ready to cater to every need of its citizens. After spending most of my life in towns and cities that had a feeling of compensating for the lack of space, the lack of proper irrigation, poor planning and what not, this was a city that felt honest in its presentation. This is what we are, nothing more, nothing less.
Miri city itself is small, no bigger than Kulim ( to those of you who've been there ). But it's a good kind of small, where everything you want is just a five minute walk away. The malls, the restaurants, the park, the ( very, very well equipped ) library, the drinking holes. If i had seen a decent char koay teow stall anywhere in that city, i would not have come back.
And all this i got just from the first few hours i was there, at 2 am, while hunting for a place to crash. And we did find one, a small motel near the heart of the city. We booked ourselves rooms, showered and promptly did not fall asleep. After all, we're nocturnal. We went to kena nasi lemak instead.

2006-02-14T10:18:00.000+08:00

The Road to Miri
Chapter 1 : In which the clowns lose a water pump and adopt a dog.

Do you know how all those clowns fit into that one small car at the circus ?
Well, I do.
First, you need a bunch of clowns. Yuva, Padma, Totomanic, Anba, Hari and myself would do very nicely. Then, you need a car. How bout an Iswara? And finally, you need somewhere to go. Miri? Perfect. You put these three things together and you have a circus.
We left at about 7am, all of us excited about seeing places none of us had seen before, hoping for an experience none of us would forget. We took the Padawan road ( no I'm not making it up. Either they named it after Star Wars or Georgie boy's been here ) and before long found ourselves on the open road, nothing but clear blue sky, greenery all around us and an engine that was running a little too hot for my liking.
Before long we found ourselves on the outskirt of Sri Aman, demolishing an entire bunch or rambutans. 3 kgs for RM3 !!
The trip til Sibu was quite uneventful, we passed by the town of Sarikei, and stopped in Sibu for lunch. I kind of like Sibu, it has a Penang-ish feel to it- the old chinese shops standing next to the brand new malls, the smell, the taste of the food, the sheer variety of the food. Didn't get too see all that much of it though. We made plans to stop in Sibu on the way back and savour the seafood, which is supposed to be the best and the cheapest in Sarawak. Perhaps even the nightlife. Sigh...the best laid plans...
Things really started to go wrong between Sibu and Bintulu.
Thats about 400 km of open road. Nothing in between except thick jungle and the occasional longhouse.
And it was at one of these occasional longhouses that the clownmobil ( it's like the batmobil, only funnier ) came to a decisive and very abrupt stop.
We'd busted the water pump.
Somewhere along the way, a bump had taken its toll. And not a mechanic in sight.
So we got a dog.
How does that solve the problem you ask? It doesn't. But we're clowns, so you can't expect all that much of us.
Besides, the poor thing came scampering out of nowhere howling for food. We had the good nature to give it all of our already spoiled fried bihun. Warmed our hearts to do a good deed. Especially after seeing the mutt walk in circles and throw up after eating the bihun. There's a place in heaven for us, for sure.
After witnessing our saintly deed, some of the longhouse tenants ( and grateful owners of the canine, I'm sure ) decided to help, to speed us on our way, before we decided to feed any other poor creature. It's quite a surreal experience having a woman clad only in a clingy sarong peer under your hood. The resident mechanic's a woman apparently. Inherited the business from her dad. No, I didn't say women can't be mechanics, it's just that I've never seen a woman mechanic in all 20 years of my life.

2006-02-13T16:19:00.000+08:00

He's back...
Or rather, I'm back.
So many people lost their faith when I got back from Niah unscathed despite their fervent pleas to God, it's tragic.
But well, here I am. So there.
I don't really have time to chronicle the entire trip to Miri. It was 4 days after all, and so much happened. But I will soon as I get my midterms over with.

2006-01-23T11:22:00.000+08:00

One week.
One more week till the holidays.
One more week till I get to sleep in, relax and get a breather from all this hectic running around all day.
Or maybe not.
I just had to agree to a trip to Miri. A road trip, no less. 10 whole hours of wholesome, ass-hurting driving along winding, bumpy roads with a bunch of juvenile, noisy individuals whose idea of fun is farting.
No, my cousins aren't coming along. These are my friends.
But all said and done, I don't think I'd give up a trip like this just to stay at home. My blood burns to see the outside world, to experience adventure and danger first hand, to take the world by the reins and ride it like a rodeo cowboy. Ok, the rodeo cowboy thing might be a little too much, but you get the idea. I have been thinking about making a trip to Miri, just to see what it's like, but i was planning for maybe sometime next year. Batang Ai would have been my choice for this year. No matter, I'm sure we'll make the best of it. I may not have the most faith in the abilities of my cohorts, but they pulled through well enough at Bako. At least they didn't burn anything to the ground.
Bako was an interesting experience as well. I only have some of the pictures ( I picked the best, all coincidentally shot by yours truly ) and I've posted it on my Friendster account. I don't really feel inspired to relate the whole story, but I probably will someday. To a bunch of bored grandkids probably.
So here's to Miri, to all the good times we'll have and to friends, whom I love despite themselves and who love me even though I'm me.
Just as long as no one forgets the beer.

2006-01-19T10:05:00.000+08:00

I want to be John Malkovich.
I mean that makes complete sense, doesn't it? Who on earth ever wants to be themselves? Its' the classic tale of the hotel pool. You've never heard of the hotel pool story? Well the next time you're booked in a hotel, try to look out your window at the pool. And i mean the entire vista, not just the assorted body parts. You'll notice that pool goers are divided into two main categories. One are the white mat sallehs who want to be tanned, all stretched out and baking themselves silly in the sun. The other group will be the tanned asians who want to be white, content to sit under the shade of oversized umbrellas, fainting at the very thought of venturing into the sun for even a few seconds, lest they develop a few more pigments of melanin over a milimetre of skin.
There are a hundred other examples i guess. But wanting to be someone else is not always a bad thing. If we didn't aspire to achieve something ( even if it is hair curling ) where would we be ? If we didn't covet what others have, be it fame, fortune, power, we'd all be rotting in our homes, watching desperate housewives. So i guess it all boils down to what we want. Why do i want to be John Malkovich? Why does someone want to look like Beyonce? Why do so many juveniles worship Chester Bannington ? If you know the answer to these questions, you've touched a fundamental milestone to the human psyche. And you win yourself a cigar.

2006-01-17T10:29:00.000+08:00

I just woke up. From class.
It's not my fault, really. Honest. It was just the cold. And the fact that both Euler and Cauchy didn't make their differential equations interesting enough. Maybe they should have given it the hollywood treatment. You know, the way some sleazy producer hires a half-baked director to cast a dolled up actor to sleep with a silicon actress to pretend that all of them are actually doing justice to an important theme to win a fake award awarded through dubious means by a dubious panel to have a show call the oscars to have us all watch to make all that money and all in the name of art.
Wait I need to catch my breath.
It's not that I dont enjoy Hollywood ( or Bollywood or Kollywood for that matter ). They should just stop pretending that they're serious about making art. Leave art to the artist. Be honest with the fact that all you're interested in is the money. We don't mind. We paid to watch Tom Cruise do Nicole in Eyes Wide Shut, we'll pay to watch Keanu do Angelina Jolie. We're the masses, we demand to be entertained. Shoot something, kill something, do someone, we got time. Sing , dance, cry, fight, magic away a few hours of our lives.
Art is born when the artist purifies himself of the need to please his audience ( or their wallets ). It comes from the pure expression, the uninhibited expression of himself. Think of it as trying to walk through a crowd while being paranoid and self concsious about the way you look and who's looking at you. You'll look weird.
So is King Kong art? It's got some pretty interesting themes. Its pretty to look at. It's entertaining. Can both exist in one expression and can that expression be called art?
Are Euler and Cauchy's mathematical expressions of the changes we see happening around us ( say a raindrop trickling off a leaf, distance changing with time ) a form of art?
Geez, I dunno. I'm going back to sleep.

2006-01-15T13:20:00.000+08:00

These couple of days have been a blur.
I remember waking up, taking my medication and going to sleep. Mostly going to sleep though. And refusing to wake up. Except to eat, which anybody that knows me will tell you I never sacrifice for anything. The thing a lot of people don't seem to understand is that food is an art. And tasting, relishing, loving and appreciating good food is also an art.
When a person cooks, it's not just a random choice of ingredients and spices and sauces that go into the dish. Every dash of sauce or every pinch of spice has it's own purpose in adding to the flavour and the texture of the dish. Every decision that is made in preparation of the dish was made by your mother, your grandmother, her grandmother and so on. With every generation the dish changes a little, becomes a little more, sometimes a little less. Sometimes it is reincarnated in different forms, so that your mom's ( or dad's ) chicken curry you love so much is more than just dinner, it becomes part of you family identity. Only your mom makes it this way. No one else ever will. Even you, after you learn the recipe, will add your own little touches to it, and it will take on a new reincarnation. Your children will taste it, perhaps they will like it ( or maybe they won't. Maybe they will love culinary prostitutes like McDonalds. ) But then again, thats something you have to live with I guess. At the very least, you will always remember the taste of your mom's chicken curry, and the good old days.
Now I'm going to sleep.

2006-01-12T14:53:00.000+08:00

I have shitty karma.
Just take a look at today. Got up at 7am with a burning fever. Stood in line for the bus at 8.30am with about a gazillion other people all sweating, swearing and turning red in the eyes. When a bus finally did come there was a small riot, nothing too big, a few eyes lost among the crowd, nothing more, and more than half the crowd was still there, including yours truly ( who, by the way, is still too much of a gentlemen to shove a comely woman out of the way ).
Things were about the same for the second bus. It was 9.30am by now, I'd already missed half the class and things couldn't get any worse.
Of course, it could rain.
Which it did, of course.
I did, however, manage to get on the 9.45 bus along with Math and Gane. Made it to the second class for the day, visited the clinic and got panadol for my trouble. Then I got back to a hot shower, delicious food and a woman who loves me.
No, wait. Thats just my delirium talking.