Shout Outs and Shut Ins

Now that I have a blog for nearly all of my different whims (some published, some awaiting entries), perhaps this one will be a tad more personal. Well, at least a whit as personal as I could get in real life.

Projects abound, each just needing that first step, and the mechanical non-stop continuous steps thereafter, both of which are not me favorite thing to do sometimes. But currently I'm getting good at making ticks next to those items in the things to do list.

A quick "Congrats oiiii korang dah grad!" to all who just graduated. Special acknowledgments to some:

- Jamil!!! Nanti ko balik nanti bawak balik Winning Eleven terbaru. Rematch oii!!
- Adam!!! Mari keje Penang woii.. bole jadi rakan gym aku!
- Azzahir!!! Khatib macho, jgn taqlid gi duduk US, masjid kampung aku tak cukup Imam.
- Khadijah!!! Cepat balik can't wait to go to your no-frills-at-the-masjid-only wedding.
- Eleena!!! Uii bile nak amik aku jadik model HAHA
- Elly!!! Dah la bergayut dekat budak Lumut tu. Pi jadi wakil rakyat UMNO seksyen 8.
- Aliah!!! I'll race you to the pelamin! Suruh Anas kumpul duit cepat2.
- Fai!!! Oii balik bawak kek Mezzo. Basi pun tak kisah.

Was looking at old pictures, and re-realized you guys are super awesome. Had I ever said thank you?

Thank you.

Now go out there and be useful.

Juli is MIA. Woi mane ko?

---

People create images they aspire to be, but mostly these images only serve as comfortable delusions. I would be lying if I say I'm not amused, because these people's blog and life story outside of their writing serve as daily mini life lessons.

I love the attempt at dramatizing their lives, from the pseudo anonymous desperately-made-to-be-mysterious nicknames they created, up to the "life lessons" they learned from their "exploits".

Whatever it is, the advice is, there's no one way of reaching the image, but the object is exactly that: reaching it. Make it a realistic, internalized image because all who delude themselves are just running in circles which get prettier the more they are trodden around on.

I find the need to define one’s self using something/someone other than oneself exotic, yet understandable. We are all guilty one way or another, and it's okay. The problem is only in realizing you are guilty of it, but won't save yourself.

I'm right now in too good a mood to actually be specific.

But you'll hear more from me, won't you?

Lelaki Pasir

She stood up and took stock of her surrounding. People moved about, walking into old wooden stores with black-lettered signs; she recognized the sushi place : "ny mien". All went in, but never out. She looked up, and the bright sky greeted her confusion.

"Everybody to their places!" ordered the bodiless voice.

And she was alone with the girl, who sat on the pavement with a stick a-swinging, her blue sweater nearly enveloping her tiny stature. She walked to the smiling girl and pinched her right cheek.

"You are too cute!" she said. " Where's everybody?"

"Back there." pointed the wooden stick, as the girl kept quiet.

As she walked to the door, she looked back, and saw the girl was waving "Come back! Come back!", in her silent screams, her eyes wide.

"It's OK, little girl." she told her with her eyes, as she walked..

.. right onto the concrete courts. Beyond the 5 meters fencing, countless courts lay at regular intervals on the infinite expanse of green grass. At each of the four corners sat a Rottweiler, their chains held by their owners who were...

.. girls wearing tennis caps, blue and pink sleeveless tees and white shorts, who were actually kneeling, horizontally on the fences. Their eyes were closed, as their heads bowed in solemn reverence.

"Nobody move, please!" ordered the bodiless voice.

But she had to. Her eyes on the Rottweilers, she made the first step onto the court..

.. and the chains clinked. The girls lifted their heads, and, hatred shining in their eyes, clanked the chains in a rhythmic cacophony, until the chains snapped and vanished.

The Rottweilers, freed from their bonds, bounded after her. She started running across, reconsidered her chances, then turned back and jumped onto the fence, frantically trying to climb over..

.. but the silent girls in their blue and pink sleeveless tees stepped down from their perches, and paused, just a fraction of an instant, before launching a thousand tennis volley onto her naked back, their eyes narrowed, the ends of their mouth curled slightly upward in a parody of a smile.

And she screamed, her hands loosing her holds..

.. and, her breath at an end, she fell silently into the heaving black mass underneath.

-----

Welcome to Lelaki Pasir !

Shortcut to Mediocrity

I firmly believe, despite anything said by motivational speakers who are, at the very core and end, just out to make you buy their next motivational tape consisting of excessively positive mumbo jumbo which has the negative effect of inducing vomit, that any individual has a finite potential, a limit, a plateau over which said individual could go no further. Even these positive thinkers are human (the condition, not the species, which would go without saying since even an unbeliever would be shaken by a motivational speaking toad), and although the desire for the "betterment of human condition" might be their goal on the surface, they still have kids to feed, bills to pay. This is by no means a pessimistic statement, but an objective and practical view, which more often than not are being set aside by both the optimists and the nay-sayers.

The view of unlimited potential is what I blame upon on countless talentless singers who goes to various auditions for more-common-than-opposable-thumb-on-primates reality shows. That, and delusion, but those two go hand in hand. Not all has a future written where he/she can jump and dunk a basketball, and only an exceptional few are fated to be a charismatic leader who lead an entire country towards ruination ala Hitler.

But of course, here's where the objective, all-encompassing view would have to be trained upon. A human is a limited being, but the possibilities of one's freedom of expression and the way to answer the question of "what am I to be", between non-existence and the line separating potential and vain dream, are V A S T. The ceiling of human potential, although all too real, has yet to be touched by any. At the very end, this is where free-will is given, so one could decide on how much of the finite potential space to fulfill.

It is perhaps a sin, with the vast and seemingly infinite potential a human could reach, that one would choose not to give his all. Nearly all are guilty of this, but we rationalize our sin by the act of recognizing our potential, saying "I could do that if I want to", instead of stepping out of the comfort zone and actually reaching it. Perhaps it is the fear of not being able to step down from a pedestal or a ladder rung you climbed yourself, or of having to, till the very end your days, fulfill the demands and expectations of those who already know what you could achieve.

Hence the quote "betulkan yang biasa, biasakan yang betul", a wisdom of ages only recently brought to my attention by someone really dear to me. So simple, yet intrinsically definitive. At that moment of introspection, the words solidified the immense possibility of learning from anything anywhere, and equate learning with the function of want.

Why the fear of taking that step towards 100%, leaving satisfying ticks next to your lists of things to do?

Why the need to sit back and let others make the first move, creating a safe refuge you could fall back in times of strife?

Why the shortcut to mediocrity?

Flush the Uja Out

Had pushed the button "new post" for nearly ten times since I got back, but there's a snag in the usually overflowing tank up here, with contents the same as the sludge in the Indahwater septic tank filter thingy in front of this Penang house, which, coincidentally, is suffering from a debris clog. Or perhaps the overflow was caused by the occasional clog, and I just need to install a better plumbing. Anyway, here's an example of the fecal matter that's need to be sucked out:


After being apart for so long, you would only picture her with fondness and yearning, unblemished by past nightmares and frustrations. I recalled, right after stepping down the 747 in KLIA, how I shivered in anticipation, to once again be enthralled by her exotic fragrance, by her promise of companionship and never ending summer. I was by then sick of the gloom of winter and the thin icy breath of my previous lover. Right there and then, I was in ecstasy, because I knew she would prove to be a tireless temptress, and could make me sweat, just by lying there on her bosom. I know she could satiate my hunger.

And satisfied me she did. Nearly six times a day, everyday for this past 5 weeks.

The original plan was to equate Malaysia with a lover long apart, with the orgasmic satisfaction being my reunion with local cuisines, but the cerebral sludge up here derailed my train of thought into, evidently, a pile of poo. I was stuck with that two paragraphs for nearly two weeks.

So this entry is actually an act of flushing out the excesses.

On to other things that needs flushing:

I'm pretty sure that "teruja" was not around the last time I was here, and now it's being used everywhere. In songs, on billboards, on tv commercials. Ours is a culture of bandwagon jumping, but everyone would jump out the moment the next big thing comes around. I remember the time when people are using these words in bold all willy-nilly in their writings: Semua bohsia and bohjan teruja dengan kecanggihan bandar wawasan yang bakal melahirkan masyarakat madani.

Since I had acquired a hearty hatred towards the word, I'll be substituting the word shit with the word "uja" in the future, until this trend phase out in our pop culture. Example of use: I'm sure the word "teruja" would annoy the uja out of this years' SPM examiners.

Similarly, ours is a culture of wringing the uja out the value of something fresh, even in places that reduces its utility. Imagine, using a new wonder-mop all over the place; to clear out the sawang, to prop the door open, to stir the dodol. We wring wring wring the uja and profit out. This is a norm of humanity, a culture where popularity is often confused with quality. We'll see, in a few year's time, if Mawi will still be around after all the uja has been squeezed out of him.

Sigh.

A lot of pent up uja, and after rereading the entry, I can see myself that it is an ujaty entry. But hopefully, the piping will be cleared up enough to let through clean, pristine water in days to come.