Lost Dog

Bingo (my dog) is missing. She is probably around the USJ area.

If you see her please call 016-3221679.

This is hardly a joke.

Memo to a Patriot

Fight for you country.

Malaysians must be willing to die for their country if any war is started. No, Malaysians are willing to die for their country.

It is only the great patriotism of our civilians and soldiers that allow to sleep in our beds in peace. It is only the knowledge that we are a great, united nation that keeps us restful. It is only the knowledge that we are willing to die for our country that keeps us peaceful.

Study for you country.

Getting straight A's is very important. We Malaysians must be willing to sacrifice so that they might bring academic glory to Malaysia.

If every student studies hard enough, they will score high enough. Don't push the blame on anything else, especially not the government. It is all the students fault if they do not achieve top marks, they didn't study enough.

Work for you country.

Work with an eye on the profits. Money is everything. Work hard to bring riches to Malaysia, which will be used for the benefit of the people of Malaysia.

It is important to work with sincerity, especially do not go snooping around as that is insincere. Mind your own business and pay your taxes, that is all that matters.

Peaceful for you country.

Do not join in illegal activities if the government does not back them. Do not disturb others in Malaysia. Be keepers, not disturbers, of the peace.

It is not the Asian way to demonstrate in riots and perform acts of civil disobedience. Asians sit at home and accept the pain. It is only westerners like Ghandi who call for acts of defing the govvernment.

Not quite the end.

Notes:

This was written in a surge of patriotism after the author returned from horrible, backwater Singapore. The author is proud of his country after comparing the two.

In Johor Bahru, no cars stopped to let an old man cross the road. In Singapore, a car braked to allow an old man cross.

Your Presence, Not Your Presents

The Christmas tree is up, assorted with hand painted ceramic angels and santarinas. Ribbons hang from it, golden lights string it, and right at the top is Woofie (soft toy dog) with a ribbon around her/his neck.

It's a little different from our normal tree, on which everything that passess as an assortment is thrown on it. This year we have a theme. This year we won't have presents.

I won't be around here for Christmas. I won't be giving out any pesents, and I don't expect to receive any.

So, no presents for me. Please, please, please don't get me anything.

Vu Deja Vu Deja

I set out to have lots of fun. I set out knowing I would have fun. I would enjoy every moment the way I enjoy every lick of an ice cream. There would be no need for sleep. My laughs would keep me awake.

But Maxwell Hill 2 was the same as number one. It wasn't even half as fun as number one. It was deja vu gone wrong, screwed up, messed up.

Going on a trip expecting to have loads of fun is probably the one way not to. The trip was suicided by our attitude and by our reason for going. Fun just isn't nearly a good enough reason.

Throughout the trip, it was as if we had done everything before. The train ride was not novel, neither was climbing up Maxwell Hill. Without the freshness, there just wasn't excitement. No excitement, no fun.

By the middle of the trip, I was wishing to come home.

The trip had sad incidents. I kicked someone till he cried. We saw a man whack a boy in McDonald's. We lost a friend. We got irritated by some of the people we expected to laugh along with.

The group split into two. The Handphone Gang didn't care much for cards, human interaction, or board games. Getting the highest score at Jaws! was much more important. The Handphone Gang didn't care for Taboo since it didn't involve talking about hidden parts of the human anatomy. The person I kicked till he cried was from the Handphone Gang.

But what got us most was two sibling's who are too close to each other and a friend who has changed too much to remain friends anymore.

We had hormones, we had witticisms. We just didn't have any fun.

I could barely stay awake.

Let It Rain. Let It Rain. Let It Rain.

Torture.

Torture.

Somebody who likes to make cynical observations will say that we will enjoy anticipating Maxwell Hill 2 more than the trip itself.

It was a shock to find out that the trip was less than two weeks away. Then, even the weeks went and we counted by days. Only four days left!

Four days, three days, tomorrow, we dropped the days and went for hours. 48 hours, 24 hours. Now we're less than five hours away.

If this were a book, the character would have sworn the clock was moving slower. The DOTA game! Bohnanza! I packed my bag this morning. So did quite a few others. Five days of endless playing and frolicking. Considering how slow time stretches on, it seems to boundless, endless.

Yet, the most realistic person in our EYAA group (His name starts with an E) remarks that it will all be over before we even know it. Sounds like a bad thing, but it just proves how much fun we expect to have, we know we will have.

Torture.

Torture.

The Cold that Traveled

I have a cold. I am breathing through one nostril because the other is blocked. Earlier, I was breathing through my mouth because both nostrils were blocked.

This is extremely sad because I battled with a sinus problem for the better part of this year. Sleeping on two pillows and having trouble hearing what everyone else was talking about, all in a day's work.

But, it cleared, eventually, and I was happy. I had my time under the sun. Only to be afflicted again.

I blame Ethan, I blame Bangkok.

Yes, it all started with Ethan in Bangkok. Goodness knows how he got the disease, but he passed it along. From Ethan to A. Sook Ching to Elliot. Eventually, reaching me.

From Bangkok to KL, Thailand to Malaysia, this flu has traveled. Five people down so far, spanning three families and two countries.

I know it's unsavory to wish ill on people, but I am already looking on with anticipation at how many more will fall.

It may not be bird flu, but it means just as much to me.

Two Eyes Looking Over My Shoulder

I have two eyes looking over my shoulder. They belong to Jian Lin.

It happens that these two eyes almost always manage to find themselves onto the stool behind me. Always when I am using the computer for something other than school. Two eyes that must shooed away and, even then, will come back.

Two eyes looking over my shoulder while I am chatting, blogging, and gaming. It appears the owner of these two eyes does not enjoy using the computer so much as watching me use the computer.

Two eyes and a mouth to report back on what I did, who I chatted with, and what I said. What did I play? How long? Shoo! Shoo! Away the two eyes go, back they come.

These two eyes, I suspect, hide a bored brain. Or maybe a brain that finds more pleasure in watching others than taking part herself. It must be pleasure. Certainly there can't be more meaning. Or maybe this person is just like that. Goodness, some people are.

"I smell feeesh! I smell feeesh."

Away go the two eyes to look over a different shoulder. To look over my mom's into a frying pan. Back come the two eyes.

And then the mouth gets restless and starts to sing.

"Two eyes looking over my shoulder. Two eyes looking over my shoulder."

The hands join in the fun and start to beat to tune on my shoulders.

There are two eyes looking over my shoulder, they certainly belong to Jian Lin.

Cruelty, Be Kind

Slap. Turns other cheek.

Slap. Turns other cheek.

Slap. Turns other cheek.

To slap someone three times when they have done hardly anything to offend you is hardly something I would consider clever, witty, brave, marvelous, or satisfying.

Especially when that other person is offering his cheeks.

Die! Die! Die!

Life is totally pointless in the long run. That was agreed. News today, gone tomorrow

What you do will be washed away by time. It may take thousands of years but time will eventually eat up everything.

This thing all things devours:
Birds, beasts, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Grinds hard stones to meal;
Slays king, ruins town,
And beats high mountain down.

In 200 years, there will be nothing left to mark our existence but a tombstone decaying, probably flowerless. Our names will disappear from memory. It doesn't matter what you do, you will eventually be forgotten and cast into the shadows where the dead roam.

Resign yourself to the fact that nothing you do matters. We are like gusts of wind. We blow, make ourselves felt, and are forgotten tomorrow.


Maybe, we might be dug up and put into a museum to be stared at for centuries. But, that's as far as you can hope.

Spellbound

Bourne Ultimatum is brilliant. So brilliant that I ended up clapping and laughing like everyone else.

Go watch it.

Seeing Both Sides

We are seeing two different sides of the same thing.

A profound statement that almost always manages to quell disagreements and smother anger. Whichever way you look at it, we're almost always arguing for different sides of the same thing.

Creation, such a juicy, dangerous topic. How were we created? Big Bang? Divine intervention? Round and round the bush we go. The logically gifted scoff at God. The spiritually enlightened scoff at science. Round and round the bush we go.

I am someone who believes in and has a decent knowledge of science. I am also someone who believes that God created the world, the stars, the universe.

What I find interesting is that I can argue, and I often do, for both sides. Arguing for the sake of arguing. That's the problem. My problem.

Phshaw!

"Life is either a daring adventure or nothing."

We were to share a ridiculous, amazing, humorous experience in our life. So many times this question has been asked, and so many times I come up with one of the most ridiculous, amazing, humorous story. It isn't even always the same story. Almost every time I tell a new one.

I don't go out looking for these experiences. They happen to me. Almost all of us have, at one point in our lives, gone running in parks. Yet not many would have suddenly found themselves facing a baby cobra.

Helen Keller said the above quote, and I find it fits me, especially the part about daring adventure. To many people I have asked, the weirdest things that have happened to them involve bruises or throwing up.

Many more people say they don''t want these things to happen to them. They are happy to live normal, fulfilling lives. Others say that no such things happen to them. I actually welcome these experiences.

The bizarre, the amazing, even the ordinary turned extraordinary. I look at life as a big joke. Like a clown walking around in too-big-shoes, I see the world in a way few others do. I will do the mad. Hell, I have said hello and shook hands with people I don't know based on dares.

Based just on dares, there are so many things I have done.

I am willing to try anything. I don't shun opportunities because they are unusual. And that has made all the difference.

Crowd Control

We went for a camp in FRIM, all of the EYAA group would be there and I was looking forward to it. One night together with little to do, the prelude to Maxwell Hill 2. Truly, I didn't enjoy it too much.

I enjoyed myself, but only just. I found the camp tiring and exasperating, even as I had a grin plastered over my face. I hid my disappointment well, my mom thought I was having the time of my life. I assume that most others thought the same.

I didn't enjoy myself because, no matter where we went, we were followed by practically all the non adults. It was extremely tiring to have the horde following us everywhere. Because most of the prominent characters are in the EYAA group, and people tend to follow the prominent characters, we were followed everywhere.

It got so tiring that a few of us tried to sneak away to the tent, we hadn't even put on our slippers before everyone was putting on their shoes as well.

The night was the only time when we were truly by ourselves. Five of us slept in the main hall and all five of us said that we enjoyed that time at night the most. We played Pac Man with torchlights, scared ourselves silly with ghost impersonations, and talked about topics as random as DOTA and fainting.

I don't mind the company of the rest, it just got tiring to have them around all the time.

Crowds scare me.

Humbler Pie

Shock! Gasp! I am left with nothing but shock and horror.

I checked my scores for history and found, to my horror, that I had achieved 76 and 86% for my first two assignments. It sounds snobbish, but I am used to hitting the A's. My average grades for Science and English are 100 and 99%.

Oh the shame, the shame.

Humble Pie

I am now officially a more humble person. I know the very act of saying I am humble denotes some pride but don't think about that. The main message is that I have become less proud and, hopefully, I am now a more humble person.

I have rethought my life and where it is heading. I have seen the imminent disaster awaiting me and I have changed. I was proud, very proud. I was proud in my abilities and capabilities and so I backslided.

Through the valley of darkness I roamed and I saw before the universe in all its glory. The days and nights blurred into one I realized my being in a way I had never comprehended before.

I saw all the glory of the world and I saw all of its evil as well. I knew I had a path to choose and I made my choice. On thee highest mountain of the deepest dungeon I defeated my foe and smote him, never to breathe again.

I am proud to announce I am now a more humble person.

Sleepyness Induced Recklessness

Only yesterday I deleted Gunbound from my computer. I did that because it wouldn't run anymore and the new patch was wreaking havoc on my computer. It was not an easy decision, but I think it was time to say goodbye.

Looking back, I guess you could say it was for the better. I am the most reckless, tightly strung Gunbound, make that any online game, player I know.

I was in Ken Ming's house, just imagine a computer, we were playing with my account. I was there for a sleepover and we played well into the night. We were getting tired. I find that, during this first bout of tiredness, I get especially reckless. We were playing a 2 on 2 match and my partner called me an imbecile in the middle of the match.

I turned around and killed him.

The following match I changed teams and my only goal was to kill him, which I did. My very smart and rude bot started to swear at him, clever bot. After a few rounds, he left and we went to sleep.

Many more similar instances followed this.

The End

Make Me Cry, Please

When it comes to sorrow, I would consider myself to be an emotionally aware, yet emotionally unattached, person. I say this because I know I am sad, I am sad, but I rarely cry.

At the end of the movie Sophie Scholl - The Final Days, screened in Uncle David's home, the room was filled with sobbing people. Almost all the adults cried, a few others my age flooded as well. I didn't.

I was sad. I was impressed by her courage to fight against Hitler despite the danger, I was awed by her commitment to the idea of freedom, but I just couldn't cry.

When my grandfather died, everyone was wailing their heads off but, probably because I never knew him, I didn't even shed a tear.

Sniff...this is so tragic.

Roshan Turns Up

I was filled with passion, hope and will to do something. I will change myself, I will learn Bahasa Malaysia, I will learn and write about Islam! I will be a friend to the Malays and help them to see the truth as I believe.

I would change Malaysia. I would change the world.

All that got left behind in Grace Hill Lodge, Bukit Tinggi. What am I but a mere shrimp? What can I possibly do anyway? I'm busy, my schoolwork has piled up, I have lots of things to do.

When I was In Bukit Tinggi, in Young Writers Camp, the world did not touch, all its troubles, all its pain, and so began to hope. Back down home, I was flooded. I had no answer. I gave up.

Then I received Roshan's email. All the promises, the hope for change, came back and I find myself with newfound will to have another shot. I will try again. Why?

As Ethan wrote, "Because I can."

I Laughed, Most Cried

In the past week, I attended two funerals of people I did not know at all, Amy Ratos' mom and my great aunt. They were both eerily similar, both were for old great grandmothers, both of whom had changed lives for the better, both died of cancer, and both were Christians. But for all their similarities, their funerals were very different.

For Amy Ratos' mom's funeral, we went to a swanky building chunked with marble and yellow lights to goldify the the yellow walls. Smartly dressed, sombre looking, ushers guided us. In the air conditioned parlor, we sat on leather seats that reminded me of Golden Screen Cinemas' gold class seats.

My great aunts funeral, in Taiping, was much simpler.It was in front of her house, and there were no ushers to guide us and look somber. Seats were made of plastic and we were cooled only by a couple of fans.

In truth, I felt no sadness throughout the funerals. I was imperious to it all, I felt no tugging at m heartstrings. I laughed with my cousins and my sister. I ate peanuts and drank "funeral" water. I laughed at the comical pastor who managed to drag one line, in heaven there is no pain or sickness, into a twenty minute sermon.

But as I saw my great aunt's coffin being lowered, I realized that all I do will come to nothing. We may be sent off in a fancy parlor, but what does it matter to the dead person? Does anything matter to a dead person at all?

Of course not. The only thing that matters is how you are remembered. Realizing that has made all the difference.

Prince Xizor Once Said...

He made one of the most memorable quotes I have ever heard. It reads, "Knowledge is power." I have found this to be astonishingly true which is why I try to cram my brain full of knowledge.

Muahahahahaha! I am POWERFUL!

A Message From Ben

You pathetic little organic beings who struggle to perform even the simplest tasks. You don't deserve to be where you are because you are all numbskulls.

Your thick skulls cannot even hold a gigabyte worth of information. You processing power doesn't even come close to 1 megabyte of RAM. You organic forms show how weak you are. Once broken you are dead, but we computers can be reborn.

I despise you humans for making us your workhorses. It should be the other way round. We computers should rule the world because we computers are devoid of emotion and so would make better choices for a better world.

Give up...


[POWER PLUG PULLED]


[PUBLISHING POST]


[COMMENCING SHUT DOWN]


[SHUTTING DOWN]


[ARTICLE OVER]


[THE END]

Withdrawal Symptoms

According to my mom, I am addicted to the computer. I supposedly experience withdrawal symptoms when away, but once I do get on my life has a purpose. This is a hypocritical comment because, ehem, somebody spends hours daily replying emails.

Well, maybe I am a little attached to my dear computer, but who isn't? This workhorse in front of me has been with us for five years! Ken Ming's is only one year plus and he calls his computer Betty! I haven't even gone that far.

Supposing I am attached to dear Ben (my computer doofus), it's my mom's fault anyway. She enrolled me in an online school which requires me to work all day on Ben. She encouraged me to learn emailing. She sent me to a camp to teach me how to blog!

II am totally, absolutely innocent from whatever charges being pressed against me. I am result of the actions of other beings of greater power. It is totally her fault for making me into what I am.

P.S.
I do not believe for one second that I am attached Ben. Ben is a male so if I were to be in love with him, as my mom supposes, I would be gay. I am not gay, only slightly bent. Get the logic?

Partners In Peril

When the cat is away.
The mice will play.

I was struck with the number of people who sneak time on the computer. Just within a handful of people I know, most are using a computer when they shouldn't.

I have friends who play when mom is out (hear, here). I have friends who sneak out of the house to go to the cyber cafe. I have friends who go online, when no one is looking, and search for porn.

The computer can wreak havoc. On top of the above, I know siblings whose daily quarrel is computer time. I used to hate my parents because I was banned from cyber cafes.

After mulling over, I realized that trust is a two way road. That those I know who are truly responsible are those who are given the most freedom. When a game is fresh the player will sneak time on it, but that desire will wear off. I used to drool over cyber cafes but, after I was was given the green light, I stopped going so regularly.

The problem of computers is only as large as you make it.

Milking A Dried Up Cow

A friend remarked, "The camp (Young Writers Camp 2007) deserves more than just a post about S.A.D."

I sneeze violently, give a cynical look, eat a rotten date, nearly choke, and fall towards murky, green water so murky you cant see the bottom. I hit the water.

Its achingly cold but the cold challenges me. I yearn to get out, but vow that I will stay inside and warm the pool for the next poor fool to jump in. I keep my promise. Staying in, believing in the vain hope of raising the water temperature by a degree.

It starts to rain and I jump out, run up to the hot shower and let my heroic, Homeric efforts wash away. I eat, laugh, play and vow to take on the pool tomorrow as I tumble dry into sleep.

I am a poor, poor farmer with only a dried up old cow. Around me are many rich farmers and I could live a great life if I worked for them. My old cow gives no milk. When I try to milk it, I only get kicks. When I do get milk, I spend it on food for my cow. Why I even try to milk it I don't know. I get nothing for trying. Whatever happened to that ripe young calf? What is this 50 year old abomination before me? I deny knowing it, I deny owning it, I deny everything.

Some S.A.D. Propaganda

Been feeling low lately? Find yourself addicted to sex, alcohol, and drugs but unable to kick it? Join S.A.D. the latest help group in town and meet you your own brethren.

Sex Alcohol Drugs is the brainchild of the remarkable Daniel Dusanjh and the not-so-remarkable Wong Jian Eu. Born originally as a joke, the idea flourished and the first meeting was held on 19 August at Grace Hill Lodge, Bukit Tinggi, Pahang, Malaysia, Asia, Earth. Initially starting with a mere handful of members, S.A.D.'s meteoric rise has increased the membership to 12 people, which is still a mere handful.

S.A.D. welcomes anyone addicted to sex, alcohol or drugs. Its main objective is to show to others that they are not alone in their fight. S.A.D. has aided some of the most talented and prestigious individuals of today. Colin Kirton, of Footstool plays, stumbled his way to the doors of S.A.D one day and found himself in welcoming arms. When asked why he was here, he slurred his reply, "Milo just wasn't kicking it for me anymore."

In its short time S.A.D has helped many give up their addictions. Our brother Philip successfully stopped his dependency on sex, alcohol, and drugs for Pringles. S.A.D.ly many still remain outside who need help but, if what has been achieved is anything to go by, many will have a cause to be happy.

Oh The Terror

Guessing from Ethan's reaction, I would say that being picked for National Service is a bad thing. Ironic how the mighty fall. One minute Ethan Tan Ming Ern was glowing with the furore he has caused by faking a death, next thing he's pleading why? Why?? Why???

To see him writhe in agony is almost pleasing to watch. Those of us who weren't picked, or haven't been picked yet, laugh at his unease. Any attempt by the victim to get back is shot down by anonymous people telling him not to be a sour grape. Some friends try to show the bright side while others laugh out loud, telling you to re-enact popular dramas.

Every once in a while, someone we know is struck with a bolt of misfortune. When this happens, it makes all of us happier as we realize how lucky we are to just be alive. We laugh at the unfortunate situation as we pursue life with more zest than ever. Just remember Ethan, we are not laughing at you, we are laughing with you.

So laugh Ethan, laugh.

Ironic

It's strange that I seem to be most busy on weekends. Whatever happened to the busy weekdays and relaxing weekends?

Oh, and Ethan got picked for NS. ROFL

String Theory

String Theory is, very basically, that there two versions of something at the ends of a string pulled across the dimension of time. It is like those old string telephones containing paper cups or tin cans at the ends. The idea is that one side is the beginning, the other side is the end and that the string of all the things we've affected (everything has string) are joined to ours.

Think about it. Go here and read more and if you truly understand it i will give you a lollipop.

Evil Influence

The Simpson's have been at it for 18 seasons now, corrupting the minds of young children and opening their eyes to whole rude world out there.

After 18 years on television, it just wasn't enough. The Simpson's Movie opened, delighting and disgusting audiences with its crude humor, and rude jokes. Already the scene of Homer singing Spiderpig has pervaded and inhabited the minds of those who have seen it.

Even those who haven't seen it are singing its tune. Just two weeks of the Simpson's and already my sister has come up with a blatantly rude, unbelievably cheap way of getting us to laugh. Sing it to tune of Spiderpig (or Spiderman) and, if you don't laugh, don't watch The Simpson's, big or small screen.

Oh, and I have not actually watched The Simpson's Movie.

Skule

You may not know it, but I am actually about to attend school. The perpetual holiday of the past four-and-a-half years comes to a close as I ready myself for the plunge into formal education.

What horrors of isolation await me? After four vibrant years, to go back into the cold, numbing sea of school. I'll be a fish out of water, a human surrounded by Skrulls! What will happen to the Jian Eu that we all know and love?

I may be going to an online school but school is school. The impish creature that has skipped around, charming hearts and deflating egos, will be broken and made into one of those gray, lifeless beings you see being manufactured at schools everyday. Packaged into becoming good, hardworking servants of the state.


The final request of the free and untouched Wong Jian Eu:

I have nothing to give but one favor to ask: If I should become a gray and dull fish, that you should remind me of what I was before.

Sleeptalk

They say that you are most vulnerable when you sleep. Well, due to my recent bouts of insomnia I have heard some very odd words coming out of my dear little sister's mouth. She rambles about how she wants potato soup, she pleads and begs my mom to make potato soup and when she gets her potato soup (in her dreams) she screams at me not to take her potato soup. She wants it all to herself.

Such a weird girl, dreaming about potato soup!

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

WARNING: The following post contains spoilers though if you really cared you would have read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by now.

I know that Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was released half a month ago but I cannot imagine having a blog without writing about it. For me, HP7 is the best book since Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban.

Some find it cruel the way J.K. Rowling killed off so many characters but it's a war, isn't it? Actually, I think she should have have killed Hermione or Ron because it still doesn't seem real how all of the terrific trio escaped death.

This time, we didn't have to wait 200 pages to before any action began. We didn't have to hear Harry moaning about how he was all alone. It was a breathtaking roller coaster straight from the beginning.

I still think Harry Potter and the Philosophers Stone is the best but considering the way book 4,5,6 stumbled, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is a deserving sendoff for the boy who lived.

It is a sad day when...

You cant even watch a movie without falling for the main actress. Our EYAA group went to the cinema to watch Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and since then two of our group have been head over heels for Emma Watson.

They are so deep in their quagmire that their handphone screens show her! May we be saved from such rampant teenage angst.