Mordant piece

Believe it or not, half of me wanted to be an author. Yeap, a serious one. Well, waay back when I was in primary school. I was a devoted writer for the school's magazines and also for the monthly spread.

My mum was instantly giving the pats behind my back for having the spirit and guts to write. Even more so, back then I had a small journal and wrote almost everything in it, even in airplanes travelling. So it was quite a bizarre and excellence-expectancy all together for seeing your kid jotting down (mostly bits of nothing important) silently instead of pestering my parents for sweets or gifts. So yeah.

Then after I left home for boarding school, my aspiration of creative writing plummeted. Big time. I seemed like to overlook the thrill of by some means trying to put my thoughts into writing.

It seems like a joke now though.

'Cos I know it takes pure interest and inspiration to write. Maybe for some, they think it's easy, so I give them credit for that. For me, it takes time, and strong determination to create a masterpiece.

I mean, come on, it took Nobel prize winners months or maybe years to come up with something worth reading.

I remember reading a whole lot of classical literary writings including the Bronte sisters’ novels back in my grandpa’s house when I was younger. My favourite at the time was Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte ‘cos I’d watched the motion picture version of it starring William Hurt and also supermodel Elle Macpherson much earlier.

Then there was Wuthering Heights by Charlotte’s sister, Emily Bronte which is very haunting for me. Jane Eyre is great, more to grown-up abit more mature chemistry between a man and a woman.

But Wuthering Heights is more simplified (at least from a view of an amateur reader at the time) even though the plots and all abit of a rough blur. I was pretty horrified by the stark description of physical and mental brutality in the story. Pretty ruthless one there.

Back in the late 90’s, when I was still in school, I came across a novel by Alice Hoffman (yeah the one who wrote Practical Magic, where then turned into a movie starring Nicole Kidman and Sandra Bullock) entitled Here On Earth. I still have the copy.

Not even half way through, it took me quite a short interlude while reading it ‘cos it suddenly appeared to me that Here on Earth bears a really striking resemblance in both plot and classical dramatic characters in Wuthering Heights.

So much for being a creative author, eh?

Told 'ya. It's not easy at all.

Of Celebrating Syawal and Waist-Expansion

I am bloated. With fats, carbs, sweets (so much for losing weight for the hundredth time). You name it. My weekend plus Deepavali break were filled with open houses’ treats. All of them served delicious spread! I can’t exactly recall how many sticks of satay I had, all together. Or lemang for that matter complete with a large serving of chicken rendang.

Heaven!

How in the world can you resist yourself from attacking those yummy Raya dishes. Well, I can’t. Never will.

I kept stuffing my face. Figuratively speaking of course. Or not? Lol.

It’s a shame though for not having the great opportunity to spend Deepavali with Mrs. Maha, my mother’s once-upon-a-time work colleague. If I’m not mistaken, this year is her fourth year leaving Kuantan for good and now staying with her daughter in Bangsar. She makes the best muruku and putu. And her dhal? Marvelous.

So, it’s really a missed opportunity for me to appreciate Indian’s cultures ‘cept for the night before Deepavali where I spent 3 long hours (it’s been a long time since I did that) watching that not-bad-at-all Shah Rukh Khan oops Datuk SRK’ s Om Shanti Om. Pretty cool, but you know, means nothing when there’s no food.

And worse, my mum’s best friend, Auntie Farah who is a muallaf; is out of town. She makes it as her tradition to still celebrate both Christmas and Deepavali even though she has converted to Islam thousand years before; for she sees it all as a token of appreciation to her whole other family members who are not muslims. She too is a great cook.

Just a waste that she’s now having a blast in Bali with her husband and kids, Iki and Liyana.

The world, particularly Malaysia is truly appreciated when I get to enjoy warmth, dear hospitality of people mostly outside of our usual outdos. It’s more than fun able to mix up, being now able to gobble up extra interesting mind exchange with the elders.

What a feeling. It’s no more about the same drills; like what’s up with school? or what’re you going to do next; the predictable yakking.

Have you realized that some great conversations in your life happened during a meal?

For an example, I had the slight opportunity of career-heartening myself with the taikos at my faculty and all, (especially the experienced, baldy ones) are more than eager to explain things. And mind you, talking and explaining while eating during the faculty’s open house celebration.

I’ve filled in about the new scent of being surrounded by other than Malays here before. Now, let’s venture on the other basic ground, which is gender.

Okay. Let see. Since I was in matrix, I rarely had many boys as classmates. Yeap. If I’m not mistaken, 6 boys and 19 girls for Hayat 9 class. Then, UiTM. Geez. Even worse. Last I remember (final year class that is), there were only about 3 boys.

So yeah. So much for having boyfriends. Ha ha.

Back to where I am now, boy, it seems like your horizons are pasted with male figures. All around you and I’m not saying this in an exasperating tone.
Are you kidding me? No way. Lol. Am enjoying the view, thank you very much.

One thing that amused me the most was when there were two office executives, bringing in cartons of ice-cream (the one in cups ones..) and trust me, most of us all, including the Dean, Prof Shukri himself as well, were more than fervent to indulge on the sinful desert.

Was quite a scrutiny, me eye-roaming all over the spacious meeting room, where the Profs and Drs (some are beyond their retirement scheme) and minors and staffs laughing happily together, chatting for having the spared moment to let everything loose for awhile; and yeah, slurping ice cream.

Anyway, there are still two open houses to attend to. Tomorrow would be the one of the staffs’ place and another one on Friday, Uncle Hashim’s.

Yum yum. Can't wait.

There's no harm in checking out, right? Right?

Yesterday before heading home, I did some musing on a subject that often intrigues me; the whole eye-aversion thing that goes on as you approach somebody alone on a street or in a corridor.

But I'm not sure if everybody experiences this, since I haven't done a survey. lol. At least not yet. But I'm sure all of us have experienced this.

Admit it, you punk. Admit it! lol

It goes like this: you're approaching another guy (this for girls of course), just the two of you on a street, going in opposite directions. And, especially if the guy is half-way good-looking, you find you don't quite know what to do with your eyes, and you find yourself looking to the side as if something vastly interesting is on the other side of the street.

Or perhaps you find a reason to check your messages on your cell phone(I did this quite frequently).

Ha ha.

So yeah. That's what always happen when I come across this one particular guy.

Don't tell anyone. Shhh..

Rape case in a school bus

Early this morning, while rustling here and there putting on clothes and lil make up, suddenly I stopped dead in my track, reaching for the remote and blasted the volume higher.

My eyes widen, staring into the highlight- 'Gadis 14 tahun di rogol dalam bas sekolah'!

Feinda, Malaysia Hari Ini (MHI) host seemed to have her voice sounded abit cracky there for awhile while reading the news.

I mean, What the hell??

Check out the papers, didn't catch much on which paper, but here's what I heard from both her and Ally.

It happened really early in the morning, about 6 a.m and the poor 14 yo girl was the first passenger for the day. Taking hold of the whole opportunity of being along with a young kid, the school bus driver, in his 20s, drove the freakin bus to this some hidden place and started raping her. That perverted beast!

And get this, he is already married, and his wife is pregnant, with their first child!

Remember about the girl who just got back from the US after graduation and got raped in a bus? I forgot her name but it happened close to 10 years ago, if I'm not mistaken. One thing I can never forget. It's her parents' biggest regret about the whole thing, saying; 'Bertahun hidup jauh di tempat org, takde kena ape ape. Bila balik negara sendiri, tempat sendiri.. tengok lah..'

It's true. It's not safe living in our own country. If you girls out there think that it's no biggie to go out in the middle of the night alone, then babe, you need to have your brain checked.

I mean, that poor Canny chick who flew in to Malaysia, supposedly for only a few days, found dead right raped and grisly killed by the flight cleaner, Najib. (hold up, I remember the jerk's name. Yuck). And she was a black-belt practitioner.

Yeap, we are no longer safe and able to go anywhere for our heart's content. No matter you are a master in Silat Gayung, Silat Baldi, Judo, Karate or whatever, 'cos when danger lurks, there's no way out. But of course it's always, always the best if we have some kinda martial art, defend system in us.

A lot better.

That reminds me, back in 2000, when I was an untoward matriculation student, I had to grab a bus from Sungai Petani, and it was late at night. The first stop would be the Sunga Petani where I was the only passenger hopping on.

I was scared. Simply. 'Cos the 'rape in the bus' calamity was pretty raw and fresh at the time, so, yeah I was abit terrified. But I was not alone with the driver. Because there were two drivers. Two!

So you see, the moment my parents knew about it; being all alone, being a girl with two big hairy guys, guess that drove them to the very edge of anxiety level. They kept calling me on the cell, (as a way of giving out signal that 'Don't you ever come near her! This girl is constantly in touch with her family, you you disgusting jerk!')

Only after the bus reached Seberang Perai to fetch more passengers that my parents became sane again.

Parents, uh. What else you expect them to do other than worrying about their kids? Go figure.

It is kinda funny when I think about that night in the bus but trust me, it wasn't funny at all. Far from it.

So back to this 14 yo girl. Poor soul. Just imagine, she left the house, early in the morning, hiking the bus like always, the thing that she has been doing for the hundreth time, then BAM!, a rot-in-hell pervert just appeared and raped her and crashed her future.

The world we live in. Has turned into a sickening manhole.

Gotta Be Somebody II

I already wrote about this song. Listen to it, 'cos it's not downloadable just yet. But yeah I do have the song with me. So, basically you guys can only do streaming. Lyric; here. lol.

Very cool. Trust me on this one.

I had a dream. Not a good one.

Have you ever felt distracted by your own dream?

I have not. Until today.

I woke up late this morning, in spite of putting myself to bed way earlier than usual. (sighs.. Yeah, I don't have much options to spend my nights lately, so you pretty much can say that I've turned to becoming a lazybum. okay, hold up. I am a lazybum. So, have turned to becoming a better lazybum. ha ha)

Here's the deal. I don't usually dream. Most of the nights I had, my body has always been fully resting, totally in my own world, totally at peace from the moment I laid my head down up to the time when it's time to kick my butt out of the bed. (complete with all the snoring and all... yeah, I admit it. lol)

Of course of I did have some dreams in the past, but most of the time they were just a blur, just patches of events with blurry images and figures, indefinite storyline, when I was not sure whether A said bitchy things to B or the other way round, or was it C playing stupid game with J, or, or.. M brazenly kissed O.

What?





All vague impressions of mind game, when we are having our body system in a 'stand by' mode. At least that's what I think.

Now, about the dream I had last night? First of all, two corpses in the house.

Corpse, bro!

Stiff, white-cloth covered corpse in a house which I couldn't identify and they were just laying there, for hours. I'm sure about the timing 'cos there were sequence of events along the process and the corpse were still there up to very last minute when the dream ended!

Then I woke up, blinking, looked for my watch, surprised because it was only 2 o' clock in the morning. Did a few glancing around, too. he he. Especially under the bed.

I've heard all my life that 'mimpi adalah mainan tidur'. In a way I do believe that but why our 'orang lama' once said that dreams mean something. Or like a signal for something that maybe happen or maybe not. Like if you had a dream of having your tooth pulled out, it means someone will die. (or I just simply made that up? No. That's what they said right)

So basically an assumption. Everything happens for a reason right? Eventho in a sleep. 'Cos sleeping is also a mechanical in keeping us alive. A route to a life.

I do think dreams have a long history both as a subject of conjecture and as a source of inspiration. My mum once told me that dreams would probably revolve around the things that have happened the day earlier, hence you keep thinking about it and then, without you knowing it, the things whoooooooshh, enter with a splash into your dream.

Make sense?

Aaanyway, I think I am trying to have the meaning in my dream sought out. Or at least a divination through my dream.

'Cos I did not think or come across dead people yesterday. I didn't watch any ghost movies or anything. Then what is it? What does it mean? A corpse. No. It was two. Two corpses.

Arrrghh. Abit scary.

Or maybe it's just a dream.

Mainan tidur.

The least you can do to others

My family likes The Pingu. Yeap, the Pingu. That cute cute one. lol

Life would be so much simpler, watching Pingu and laughing all day. How can you not?
He's so cute. And that lil sis of his?? Adorable. Beyond words.

Okay. What am I doing thinking talking bout Pingu? Like always, 'I have no idea'.

It's just that, it's important to stay sane and happy and laugh and smile whenever we have the time. Simplicity of life revolves around the way we perceive life itself.

Make sense?

Thing is, I saw this one woman across the room yesterday and first moment I laid my eyes on her, I thought.. 'Geez.. the female vision of Grumpy'.

So you see, we were having a tea break at the cafe and there were about 5 of us. Then I noticed this woman aka Mrs. Grumpy sitting next to our table and she had like 3 people with her and all of them were laughing. In fact louder than us.

Except her. The reason I noticed her the first time.

Here's my point. If you're hanging out with a small crowd, and all are loudly laughing happily and you're not, then there must be something wrong with you.

If I'm wrong, shoot me. Ask me if I care.

This is what I think. If you don't feel in the mood of being happy and all giggly, then leave. Don't affect others with your sarcasm or misery or ghastly expression along with you. Deal with it.

Look for a companion to talk. A true listener. Spill your rotten eggs to someone. Let it off your chest. If not, like I said, deal with it. On your own.

All in all, SMILE.

That, I'm telling you, the very least you can do to others.

Ada apa dengan filem hantu?

Okay. Last night I was alone, channels-browsing and then suddenly, a horrible, eerie looking ghoul appeard on the screen and thankfully my fingers holding the remote cooperated, therefore well, in a blink of an eye the image gone.What the hell was that. Phew.

I am no my mum. She enjoys watching ghost stories. She's so into it. Just name it. Nang Nak? The Shutter? The Sisters? The Grandpas? The scarier, the better.

Not me though. I am not a big fan of ghost movies. Wait. Let me rephrase that sentence. I do enjoy watching ghost stories, but strictly the Hollywood-made ghost movies.

Why? Let see. Because no matter how scary the omputeh’s characters are, my mind is like giving me the signal that ‘Those are just make ups la. Chill.’

For example, the famous Freddie Kruger; he definitely gives you the disturbing, creepy feeling, right? I mean, he does sound traumatizing and all but..still, it maybe just lingers for..what..10 minutes after the movie ends?

But hell.. those Asian ghost stories? Aiya.. so creepy.

I mean, come on. The movies, they are based on true Asian ghost stories right? So, they all feel so close and very indifferent with our thinking, customs, traditions, situations. Thailand is just above Malaysia and wait.. yea.. Indonesia is just around the corner.

You get what I’m saying?

So, I list down some of the unforgettable occurrences ; a tribute to ghost movies (yea rite):

1st scenario:

When I was in standard 5 or 6, my friends and I were involved in drama competition and we had to practice almost everyday. Sometimes, the spot of our practice was at my house and I remember this one particular afternoon, I asked them all to watch Freddie Kruger’s movie (well they insisted); The Nightmare of Elm Street which is; trust me, you would have some trouble having your own sweet private time in the bathtub.

So, we were all like, paying attention to the movie. Some were hugging the pillows, trying to cover their eyes and all, while the boys were acting all macho.

Then suddenly, during this one scene (I can’t remember which one), all of us screamed so loud and plus, some and get this, including the boys ran out of the house, scared to death. Haha.

What a memory. Sometime ago, I heard from Sofiah, my long lost friend who I haven’t met in what..10 years? And she who was also there at the crime scene, can still remember it perfectly.

Funny.

2nd scenario:

For awhile, I had a problem for toilet bowls. Yeap. I blamed the movie Sundabolong. Is the spelling correct? I’m not sure and I don’t care. It was totally terrifying.

Scale? I gave it 10 out of 10 at that time.

It happened when I was still studying in MRSM Balik Pulau and I stayed at my buddy, Intan Suraya’s house in Kuala Kangsar. After lunch if my memory serves me right, she pulled all the curtains(so it was dark regardless of shining suria outside..lol) and played the video of that movie.

The images were bloodcurdling I tell you. The main character, who played the Sundabolong, she was pretty but then when she’s changed into becoming a ghoul, eee..

3rd scenario:

Aha.. now I remember another movie, played by Noor Kumalasari. I guess it was back in the late 80’s because I was still an adorable, cute lil girl when I watched that film. ( yeap. I was sooo unbelievably cute..you see..oops. Next time. ha ha)

Okay back to the story. If I’m not mistaken, the title was Misteri Rumah Tua. Whenever I see her on TV, the gruesome images of her as a ghost flash across my eyes. (eventho she's all covered up now.)

Spine-chilling moment where she gave birth(or was it throwing out?) through her mouth, I remember running to my mum who was in the kitchen, preparing meal.

I don’t know about other people, but to me, ghost stories make me feel vague driving my own car in the middle of the nights, along empty dark routes. Like Noor Kumalasari in one of the scenes in the film, she(as a ghoul) hitchhiked a poor fellow guy.

Scaaaary.

4th scenario:

Err.. I think I’m done. You see, eventho there's freakin daylight outside, I feel somehow uncomfortable thinking about things that relate to phantoms at this very minute (being on the top floor, corridor outside seems so quiet bla bla bla).

There are more, but later. Out of nowhere, the soundtrack of Twilight Zone(hope you know that tune) is going through my mind right now.

Stop!

Wise Man: Part 3 'Attitude'

WM : You wanna hear a story?

ME : Sure.

WM : I've never told this story to anyone before.

(And that got me blinking, staring. At him.)

WM : (snaps his fingers) Yo zombie. Listen up.

"There once was a woman who woke up one morning, looked in the mirror, and noticed she had only three hairs on her head.

"Well," she said, "I think I'll braid my hair today."
So she did and she had a wonderful day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and saw that she had only two hairs on her head.
"Hmmm," she said, "I think I'll part my hair down the middle today." So she did and she had a grand day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed
that she had only one hair on her head.

"Well," she said, "Today I'm going to
wear my hair in a pony tail." So she did and she had a fun, fun day.

The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed that
there wasn't a single hair on her head. "YEA!" she exclaimed, "I don't have to
fix my hair today!"

ATTITUDE IS EVERYTHING. "

WM :Pretty cool uh? Don't you ever forget that.

Me :U uh. I won't.

WM :Good. 'Cos you need to remind me bout that once in awhile.

Uh?

Letting go

This is all really a propos of nothing. I heard a girl laughing just outside my door just now. It just sort of registered as a pleasant, infectious sound. Then I heard it again, and I almost smiled. Then I stopped to think for a moment.

I’ve made up my mind. In the middle of mind-cracking and being in slight darkness (10mins blackout).

I want to let go.

That's it. Enough reminiscing about crazy collected miscellany of childlike indecisive voyage. About lost love. Calculating and speculating on 'What if's.

What if. What if. What if. Urgh.

Yeah, that's it.

But wait. Who am I without memories? Without experience? Without committing mistakes in the past? Without jumping up and down then fell off the cliff, fighting for life only hanging on a thin, imaginary rope?

No one.

Money. Spend. Crash.

I blog therefore I am. New, but trying. On anything. Even on psychos, or bees or world domination. Anything.

Well, that’s true only in the blogosphere, and even there I’m not sure that pundits would accept it since I think and I've noticed that they use the term to mean only those bloggers who comment on politics, and have a large readership. You know, the groups of well-knowns like Rocky Bru, Patrick etc.

They're good. I give them credits for that.

So, I've been blogging for what.. hardly 6 days and although the trend of in my readership is undoubtedly upwards (at least for now, because we'll never know what will happen tomorrow), I still have to keep improving, both in thinking and writing.

So I've been thinking. And wondering. Today 'bout parents. O boy..

Okay, get this. How is it possible that you are changed in one way or another into becoming your parents?

The predicament of life. At least for some people.

It’s one of the mysteries of adulthood; why can you see in yourself so many traits learned from your parents, yet miss a few crucial ones?

In my case, I have my father’s attraction for speed, curiosity, love of scribblings, quiet consigns, 4x4 wheels; my mum's lures for good food, travelling and books; and I learned my manners and their importance from both of them. And surely the passion to set things right, stick up for myself and to hold moral values in high regard.

But I can never be like my father. I am so missing on his example and teaching on managing money. He thought I have mastered it well.

You see, I did a few sellings of kueh Raya and Betawi/fruit cakes (yum yum) and able to gobble up quite some cash and was rather turned into a big-head over it. Only in front of my parents.

Then, Wham!! My father opened my eyes, lecturing bout sales margin/percentage, the drill. And I was like..'What? I could have gained more!!'. So yeah.

A snob. Me. Should have asked the master first about the secret. Of doing business.

Stupid.

The truth is, I am losing money. Even after all the sales. Especially after this Raya celebration where our house was cramped by rascals. Some were very cute tho, so practically not that bad. (Not saying that the cuter ones got more duit raya. What? You think I rely on looks? u uh. Wrong missy.)

Back to this one of many fine traits of my parents that I don't or maybe hopefully haven't inherited; I should really learn and relearn on managing money.

Yea, you heard me, the core of insanity..MONEY.

I should slowly consult my father because other than extremely detailed about his work, boy,my father's eyes and ears were ever alert to the natural art and beauty of his surroundings.

It is impossible to spend more than a few minutes with him outside the house (especially on the boat, staring into the rosy sunset on the horizon) before he’d be commenting on the sound of irritating (to me at least), over-the-top chirpy birds as if they're chatting away with the other flock of swarming birds.

Maybe next time I'd dedicate an entry on his passion of fishing and hunting. Yeap. Or maybe not. Ha ha.

Okay. Now. I think I want to leave the mystery of missing @ not getting the crucial genetic psychological traits from parents left unattended.

For now.

p/s: All the rumblings rooted from having the thought bout money. Not good.

Shah Rukh Khan now a Datuk

While driving, the moment I heard bout it on the news, I felt like shooting myself, straight on the forehead. Figuratively speaking. I was like “Whhaaaaaaaaaaat???”

Stupid. Plainly stupid. I don’t want to say much. Because it would hurt some people. Not generally SRK fans. Because I am one of them. And I’m not hurt. I just feel numb. Of idiocy of other jerks.

In the past it was Michelle Yeoh. I can't even imagine who'll be getting it next. Marilyn Manson? Yuck. But knowing how Malaysia is doing at the moment, it's not impossible. Trust me.

Yuck.

So read the excerpt from Berita Harian by hanizam@bharian.com.my;

'Mereka bertanya teman, apa kesnya Shah Rukh Khan dianugerahkan gelaran tinggi itu. Kata kalangan ini lagi, apakah sumbangan aktor terkenal Bollywood itu dalam dunia hiburan kita sehingga melayakkan dirinya untuk bergelar ‘Datuk’?

Kalau setakat gemar datang Melaka, kata mereka, rasanya artis kita pun ramai yang gemar pergi Melaka, makan ikan bakar, melawat A Farmosa dan tempat bersejarah di Melaka. Maksud mereka, biarlah alasan
untuk memberi anugerah itu nampak logik dan bukan jadi bahan senda dan ketawa masyarakat.

.................

Tetapi teman faham benarlah sentimen kalangan yang bertanya soalan itu kerana kalau ikutkan siapalah Shah Rukh Khan itu. Bukan rakyat Malaysia pun. Bukan macam Michelle Yeoh yang juga dianugerahkan dengan gelaran ‘Datuk’. Pelakon yang semakin galak mencipta nama di Hollywood itu sekurang-kurangnya anak kelahiran Ipoh, Perak.

Berbalik kepada soal gelaran tadi, hakikatnya begitulah dalam tempoh 10 tahun ini. Gelaran ‘Datuk’ dan ‘Datin’ sudah menjadi begitu lumrah dan bunyi murah pula sehinggakan ada yang kata kalau baling batu, pasti ada yang terkena kepala si Datuk dan si Datin.'

Wise Man: Part 2 'Theory on Happiness'

One fine evening, I asked the wise man, "Are you happy?"

WM : No
Me : Why?
WM : Only monks are happy.
Me : Owh.

(Silence)

WM : Are you happy?
Me : Yes. In a way.
WM : How so?
Me : I believe we should be thankful and try to be happy, no matter what.
WM : That's crap.
Me : Why?
WM : We can never be happy if we are indebted. To human or material.
Me : We can barely avoid that, right.
WM : Sure we can.
Me : How?
WM : Live in a cave or on top of the mountain. And live on wild leaves.

Geez.

Use of Pharmocogenomics Towards Therapeutic Strategies

Little I know about science. ('cept that if you're sick, you need to gulp down Soluable or go to a doctor who charges you abit more that he should for a 5 minutes consultation and drug prescription. Science what.)

*sighs..

So yeah, little I know about science. Here's the drill. Yesterday we had a guest. Expensively invited for the sake of the beauty of genomic studies, Prof. Therwarth, Head of Faculty Medicine, University of Paris, France. Okay. Let me be honest. I expected a hunky French dude;tall dark handsome. The whole over-the-top male spesies (well like y'all, we got it all from movies). French guy, French toast, French kiss.. now, stop. lol.

I was early, pretty much one of the early birds in the auditorium anticipating his speech. Bet they all, especially the girls were wondering. And hoping.

And we were frustrated. Big time.

He's not the French guy I've been looking for all my life (bit melodramatic here so bear with me). He's old. Has trusted-out-ready-to-burst tummy. Strange accent; dual nationality French & Indian. Go figure.

He's definitely not my cup of tea. And bet not other's. Except for his wife. Ha ha.

But he is good. Super good researcher. He showed all these cool pictures of molecules and genes and cells and god-knows what else is there. A recipient of several international awards and has been cited by all the taikos in the world of medicine.

I tried my best putting up my you-know-it look pasted on my face. And it worked,I guess because the fella next to me kept nodding at me, as if saying 'Heavy weight guy there uh.. both of us should worship the path he walks on..'. Seriously, all that I can remember right now, he said something bout vaccine and molecular genetics of human cell transformation. And AIDS.

So yeah. 'Use of Pharmocogenomics Towards Therapeutic Strategies'.

Gees.

Aftermath UiTM ride

I love Malaysia.
Why? It would definitely be a freakin’ cliché if I say..’Well, like y’all knoe, Malaysia is a multiracial country. We have Malays, Chinese, Indians, Kadazans..and you knoe, others. Most of us are at least bilinguals; totally a credit to all races but Malay ‘cause Bahasa Melayu is the national language’.

Go figure.

Okay. Don’t worry. This entry will not, and can not be a racial-oriented piece. Come on. We all are happy right. Living in this beautiful, peaceful country, where we are able to breathe in the polluted air, wait..without having guns pointed at us, and yeap, able to gobble down yummy, scrumptious food like roti canai, nasi lemak, mee mamak. Ha ha.

So yeah, we are happy citizens of Malaysia. (minus the oil price issue.Yikes).

Since I was in form 1, I’ve been surrounded by Malays in school. Malay friends, Malay teachers, Malay staffs. You see, I am an ex student of MRSM. So tell me, how many non-Malays or Bumis for that matter there. We did sometimes have the Mat Sallehs assisting English teachers, but that doesn’t count.

Then I furthered my education to matrix college and next to one of the best ever Universities in Malaysia, UiTM. Again, tell me. How many non-Malay students are there.

Now though, wow. The current workplace is filled with a variety of people and it’s colourful. The beauty of other than English and Bahasa Melayu languages being spoken. Tamil, Mandarin, Spanish etc. I mean, spoken in a learning environment. Where we have books, papers, laptops around them. (I mean we always see an array of cultures/races at the shopping malls..so again, that doesn’t count.)

It’s different. Geez..even the smell is different. It’s a new feeling for me. A good one.

Aren’t we proud to be Malaysians?

Wise Man : Part 1 'An Intro to the Real World'

A wise man told me one day, "Be nice to people."

Me : Why?
WM : 'Cause it's good to be nice.
Me : Why?
WM : 'Cause people will like you.
Me : Why?
WM : 'Cause when you're nice, people will not hate you. Or stab you at the back. Geddit?
Me : So, be nice uh? Good one.
WM : Treat people nicely, and be humble. So people will respect you.
Me : And that's important, yes?
WM : Exactly.
Me : Bet you're so nice to people.
WM : Who? Me? I dont give a s*** bout people.

Huh?

Gotta be somebody. u uh. Not you.

I got this song from a friend, back in the US. He claimed that the song is brand new, and he got it from his friend, who is a member of Nickelback Fan Club or something.

The moment I browsed through the lyric, I was like..'omg. this is sweet'. But the melody? Err.. all I am saying is, they; the lyric and melody, are not blended together nicely. Geez.. who am I to judge these things. (and I was one of those people who detested the way Fauziah Latif commented on the singers.. as if she knoes anything..ha ha)

So here goes. Check out the song. I mean the lyric. I was reminded, no actually I was warned not to pass the song out. Coz it's not in the market just yet. But I'm sure it's already downloadable.

Read the words. Simple yet heart-wrenching. Big Time. At least to me.

Gotta Be Somebody by Nickelback

This time I wonder what it feels like
To find the one in this life
The one we all dream of
The dreams just started off
So I´ll be waiting for the real thing.

I know it by the feeling.
The moment when we´re meeting
Will play out like a scene straight off the silver screen
So I`ll be holdin’ my breath
Right up to the end
Until that moment when
I find the one that I spend forever with

'Cause nobody wants to be the last one there.
'Cause everyone wants to feel like someone cares.
Someone to love with my life in their hands.
There`s gotta be somebody for me like that.

Tonight out on the street out in the moonlight
And damn it this feels too right
It´s just like Déjà Vu
Me standin’ here with you
So I´ll be holdin`my breath
Could this be the end?
Is it that moment when
I find the one that I spend forever with?

You can´t give up!
Lookin´ for that diamond in the rough
Because you never know when it shows up
Make sure you´re holdin` on
‘Cause it could be the one, the one you´re waiting on

Soapy, I know. Deal with it. lol

So I stared. And stared.

Someone told me, I've been divorced from the reality. Full stop. (actually stated with an exclamation mark, so I guess its barely a funny remark) Hell do I knoe the meaning of it. But I tried, and am still trying to read between the lines. I know..I know, lale like always.. ha ha.

So I stared. Thinking about the things I've done. Or said for that matter. Have you heard of a saying, 'People may actually forget the nice things you said bout them, but they wont ever forget the nasty things said to them.' I agree.

I've seen a fight between two good buddies for 4 years, calling names at each other, (one has quite a set of gigi mancung, so you can guess what the other called her, and the other one abit, no, really plump. so clear case).. Basically all the cherished memorable things from the past gone, flying out the window because of being fed of lies. So there.

One good friendship down the drain. One of the nasty patches.

Regardless of the other things that this someone claims Im totally not aware of, I do cherish my friendship. I try. Always. Aren't we abit emotional today.. (honestly I just found out my ex classmate was married last raya. So. Happy but sedey at the same time not being invited. Boo hooo)

Ouch.

The Origin of Me. The Helios.

Why Mas Tulen? Here's a story. A true story. My parents were married for approximately, more than 6 years before they were granted the greated gift of all ( yea right), Me! Just imagine the hell my mum had to go through. Having the relatives (mostly my father's side of the family) asking bout getting babbies, or a baby for that matter. Both of them were healthy, and very happy Im sure because come on, how many couples do you knoe that have survived their marriage life more than at least 5 years not having a child of their own?

My mum told me there were times when she simply tried to avoid family gathering, where the venues where filled with loud, babbling makciks, along with their screaming brats asking for susu, toys or whatever things kids needed back then.

Theres the sacred one line of question, "Bile lagi nak dpt anak ni?".. If I were there, Id be punching them straight on the face, leaving big lumpy marks. Urgh, its all in the hand of God right. You need to Redha, and be blessed for the life He provides you with.

So basically, there were treatments here and there because we human can never give up hope right. Theres this one nice guy, Dr. Wee, our family doctor who treated my mum, made sure she took her medicine, endured her screamings of being poked of needles and God knoes what else there were in the course of medical progress in harvesting the womb.

Yeap. Had to go through bloodshed and major battles back then. Only to conceive me. Me! yay. I love you mama. and yeah love you too abah. lol.

Throughout the process, finally after a long long wait..(bet its longer than longer in my mum’s vocabulary), praise to God, miraculously she had me in her womb. Then practically by month 5, she was bleeding a.k.a tumpah darah and she wasn’t allowed to get out of the bed for 3 months.

That was when Dr. Wee came up with the nickname, Mas Tulen, as for him it/I was a pure gold, both to my parents and him. (I simply think coz I caused him so much trouble. As simple as that. ha ha)

My mum would repeatedly tell me years ago, about how Dr. Wee teased my parents, especially the one carrying the pure gold inside her tummy, "You better watch out this time. It's my Mas Tulen"..

So yeah. Up until now, wherever I go to his clinic (he's still working, all wrinkly but fit and strong), he would always, I repeat always call me Mas Tulen. And I give him full credit for taking a really good care of my mum and me for that matter.

And why am I telling you all these. Simple, I have no idea. ha ha. Maybe an aftermath of spending most of the night last night talking on the phone, for I am now, today, on this very exact date, officially 26 years old. Yeap today. A celebration of life. A tricky one from the very beginning. An achievement. A reminder for both my parents and myself, to be grateful. Alhamdullilah.

Thats it for the Mas Tulen thingy. Now, Honey there stands for Hani la. Mat Salleh kan sket directly become a Honey. Hence, after all the troubles of delivering me and all, my mum got the privilege of naming me.

Come on la, she was the one carrying me for the whole of 9 months, tumpah darah some more, of course she had the right. lol. She said she's always liked the name Suria, for it kinda means Sun a.k.a Helios in greek, so Suria it is.

Surprise, surprise for my mum. A week later when she read the birth certificate. And she was like (in my freaking mind basically la), "What the h***?! Mane datang Hani ni?" and there he was.. my father all beamingly smiling from ear to ear. According to him @ the Islamic, Hani means calm, peacefulness. Generally he was trying to combine both the bright fierce shining sun with the creamy gooey sweet peaceful honey. Geddit? lol

Enough enough. Suddenly I feel like Ive been washing my linen in public, literally speaking. lol.