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Showing posts from 2017

Annual Year End Rant...

Here we are at the end of another year. I have lived long enough to no longer expect the so-called new year brings new hope. New year's day is a holiday celebrated by everyone on earth no matter what race or religion they are. Perhaps, for that few minutes or seconds before and after 12 midnight, we, or at least the majority of the citizens of earth, are one. Then, at 8 am on 2 January, we get down to doing the same thing we did before we go on our year end holidays. For a fleeting moment we live in a fantasy, living the life we dream of and still earn a decent salary, before, the work week start again, schools are opened, and we are at the top of the ride again, spiraling down into the abyss we call life. That is, until we retire. For some, retirement seems like paradise. After the long hard life that, the promise of days of doing things because you want to, not because you have to, is the highest level of living on this earth to be achieved. Then, after a while we find out, t

Why I hate pets

Today, my son, Aiman, accidentally stepped on our pet hamster, Bucky. The late Bucky was brought home by my elder son, Afiq, not more than a year ago. Bucky was a winter hamster. That's why Afiq named her Bucky (before confirming Bucky is a she) after Captain America's nemesis and best friend, James Buchanan (Bucky) Barnes a.k.a, the Winter Soldier. This is the fourth pet we had to bury, (if you count the five or six Koi Fish as one since they all died together when the aeration pump stopped overnight). I felt sad every time we lose a pet.  That's why I hate them. I get attached to things (dead or alive) easily. I guess I am insecure that way. When I was young, some one gave me a balloon, the first one with helium in it... just like the ones on TV. I loved it so much... I had it tied to my wrist for the whole day. Then, while sitting on the sofa watching TV, the string must have come loose, and the balloon floated up.... toward the spinning ceiling fan. By some mir

The Perfect Day

What is your perfect day? Asked the motivator I look at him and smile A perfect day is when I created something A drawing of anything A pattern on a piece of white paper A paragraph of my thoughts Add another chapter in my unfinished novel Typing in my blog about random things in my head Lazing around doing nothing But, to the motivator I actually said Achieving what I was set out to achieve... Corporate objectives and KPIs, Meet my deadlines, and perform the best for my masters. That is really my normal day...

It's My Brothers' and Sisters' Fault.

I am a daydreamer. Being the last one in a family of eight older siblings, I was born at the stage where my parents were already fatigued by child raising. Not that they did not care, just that... they are not overly concerned. There are pros and cons, I was only caned once by my father when I refused to wake up to go to school. I never wanted to go to school, but that day, for reasons I cannot recall, I pretended to sleep so deeply that even after my father carried me in to the bathroom, I actually laid myself down on the cold and wet bathroom floor. This is nothing compared to the punishments that younger (and angrier) father laid on my elder brothers (at least according to my mother). I read somewhere, someone said that the two things that influence your future most are the people you hang out with and the book you read (Now, I believe we must add to the list; the movies you watch, the social media group you are in and the Youtube video you watch). Analyzing the people

Bury me at sea

When I die, bury me at sea So there will not be an obligation To water my grave, and sprinkle petals on it Or, the need to worry what people will think of how my grave was hardly visited... Life goes on for the living Time has stopped for the dead... When I die, I only hope to live in memories of those who want to remember me. Say a prayer for me whenever they pray Not only, on the eve of Eidul Fitri,  throng the cemeteries out of guilt That the dead was abandoned for 364 of the 365 days in their year... No forced tears to be shed No need for silent contemplation as they sat about the stones that marked the place of my decayed remains When I have become one with the earth from whence I came...

Reacting to A Reaction

Stephen Covey wrote in his book Seven Habits, that as humans we are not supposed to be reactive. We are not animals that make decisions on the instinct of life preservation and the survival of the species. That was one of the biggest "AHA!!" for me in that book... although, in truth, there were many, at least one on every page. Alas, we are but creatures of emotion. If indeed we evolved from apes, the survival instincts has perhaps evolved into ego and, for some of us, it is bigger than the real feeling we feel for someone. More often than not, we react to what we perceive to be hatred, or anger, or disgust. This perception is so often wrong, yet our ego concludes that, that someone who treats us differently today, must be angry at us, because we just did not have the humility to ask... are you angry with me? or, did I do something wrong? Humility is the key and communication is the window. If you do not have the key then the window will remain shut, and the person yo

Another Time

If there be another time When things are different And love was uttered With the passion Of a lover Then life would be different And love is less painful Hope will not be abandoned Dreams may just come true

One step forward... A few steps back.

When I heard about the horrible London Attack on the radio on my way to work, the first thing that came to my mind was ISIS. But, as the voice of Theresa May cracked as she denounced the attack without revealing the identity of the lone assailant, I found myself praying, please let him not be a muslim. At the time I am writing this, the ethnic and religious background of the terrorist are still not known. But, the buzz on social media are largely divided only on whether Islam should be banned everywhere or we shouldn't judge Islam based on one man's act. Islam.... nobody even considered that maybe the man shot dead by police after driving over almost fifty people and killing five (the latest fatality number) could possibly Irish, or Welsh or Scottish or even Japanese or Korean or Chinese. Nobody will even think he's white. I am hoping that maybe he will be an extreme Catholic, or a rogue Buddhist, maybe, they did horrible things, too, in Myanmar. And, how come there a

The Smong - an unheeded tale

While visiting Banda Aceh over Chinese New Year, we (my family and I) were taken on board a 2,600 ton floating power plant that the force of the 2004 Tsunami pushed 5 km inland, crushing everything in its path. The power plant is too heavy to be shipped back to sea, so the Indonesian Government just converted into a museum. One exhibit was a 200 year old poem by the people of Simeulue Island about Smong; Enggel mon sao curito (Listen to this story) Inang maso semonan (Of a time long ago) Manoknop sao fano (a village was drowned) Uwi lah da sesewan (So the story goes) Unen ne alek linon (Preceded by a quake) Fesang bakat ne mali (Then a wave so high) Manoknop sao hampong (all the land was engulfed) Tibo-tibo mawi (all of a sudden) Anga linon ne mali (If the quake is strong) uwek suruik sahuli (and the sea ebbs) Maheya mihawali (at once seek) Fano me singa tenggi (your place on higher grounds ) Ede smong kahanne (That is Smong) Turiang da nenekta (Hist

Money Changes Everything

I have been listening to some Bee Gees songs while doing some work tonight and suddenly remembered a dear old friend. We grew up together, and we're closer to each other than our own brothers. And growing up, I probably spent more time at his house than at my own. We both love the Bee Gees, especially after watching the movie Saturday Night Fever starring a young John Travolta in the late 70s.Up until the day I got married, I don't think there was ever anybody closer to me than this friend.. and cousin. I got caught up with my life, moved to Subang Jaya, to start a family. We hardly see each other thereafter, only once in a while, mostly during Aidil Fitri. Perhaps, it is me and my wife's arrogance perceived by my friend's family that, I begin to feel I am not as welcomed in his house as I was during my younger years, when I could come and go as I please at anytime of the day or night. Later, about 10 years ago, I started my current job, and suddenly my offi