Thursday, August 31, 2006

Merdeka!

Happy Merdeka Malaysia!

This time, I shall not rant about the oppressiveness of this country and the majority of MPs who have nothing else better to do than to gossip about celebrity marriages, instead of talking about solving rising crime rates and poverty.

Tonight's a time for appreciating this beautiful country. Among the many reasons:
  1. There's still somewhat a degree of freedom of religion. At least I don't get thrown into jail for practicing Christianity openly.
  2. Blogging is not entirely controlled...YET. So, there's still freedom of expression, somewhat.
  3. There aren't any major racial clashes here. Yes, we all know of Kampung Medan and May 13...and the many criticisms that we're all merely TOLERATING each other and that there is no true unity deep down. But let's face it--whether we're truly unified Malaysians or not, at least we're not killing each other. We still smile at our local Indian mamak feller, or Chinese hawker, or Malay nasi lemak seller. True, people complain of others hanging out only in their own racial groups. Oddly enough, that seems to happen as we get older. Observe young children, and sometimes, you get to see the typical Ali-Mutu-Ah Chong gang so often portrayed in school textbooks. :-)
  4. Gender equality is slowly but surely being recognized here. The setting of a Gender Equality Tribunal, as well as a Gender Equality Act are being considered. Of course, these law reforms will take a looong time. But hey, better late than never. After all, Article 8 in our Federal Constitution now outlaws gender discrimination. And in 1995, we ratified the Convention on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW). Of course, women are still under-represented in most areas like the economy or politics...but we're moving up--slowly, but surely.
  5. Peace still reigns in this country--no guns or bombs or skirmishes with the big bullies of the world longing to control all nuclear supplies. Yes, we're considering jumping on the bandwagon by getting some nuke power ourselves. However, we're too small to be of any real threat to the big guys. May peace continue to reign in this beautiful land.
  6. Finally, the BEST variety of food! :D Where else can you find prawn mee, nasi lemak, and roti canai in a single place?
That's my two cents worth. Happy Independence Day, Malaysia.

Written at 3:25 AM

2 comments

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

memories

The silence of solitude in the early hours of the morn beckons me to write. It's been a while since I've been awake at this time. Now, the urge to write returns so strong.

Just read a poem written for me by a friend, whose contents I don't think I shall reveal here. Not yet, anyway. You know who you are, and thank you. :-) Perhaps I shall take heed of your kind exhortations, but not so soon yet. It is still too early...the twilight has not completely passed. But fear not, the dawn will arrive inevitably. And with that will spark the tiniest glimmers of courage.

Memories pass by noiselessly, like silken slippers treading upon still waters. None bring a stab of pain to the heart. Some, in fact, just bring forth a cynical smile. And a little tinge of sadness, perhaps. But, seasons change. Nothing is eternal. They come, and then they disappear, only to reappear, proferring warmth and affection after several winters have passed. What else can I do but respond with a smile, twisted with hidden cynicism? But I do not blame them. The cynicism lasts only for a moment, and the next smile I offer is as warm as ever. Why run from a glowing fire in the midst of the cold?

Written at 3:00 AM

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Tuesday, August 22, 2006

poem: hope

Hope

I have often dreamed
of a love so deep,
filled with passion,
unadulterated joy
that blossoms from the
intertwining of twin souls.

A fusion of birth
and destruction,
as the flames of love
consume the self,
till it lies buried beneath
ashes of age,
fear,
selfishness.

Would such a dream come to pass?
I always wondered in silence
solitude
Aloneness.

Hope's footsteps started to fall,
inaudible
like the kiss of a feather upon the ground,
He began his deadly dance
wicked smile upon ageless lips,
 moving sensuously around me in the darkness,
seducing me with words
that lifted the cloak of loneliness
but for a moment.
What if? he asked silkily,
What if, indeed...
and I started to believe.

Hope the liar
Hope the deceiver
Creator of dreams
a spider-web of fantasy that
ensnares,
envelops the mind in mirages of
beauty and bliss,
a world inhabited by two souls
who have ceased their wanderings,
rejoicing in the wine of love.

Of course, it was a fantasy,
one that Hope weaved with such clarity
that it seemed like reality,
I could no longer tell the difference between the two,
I was fooled.

When the mirage shattered
like a thousand mirrors,
I fell.
Deep into an unending chasm,
further below than even the
fiery depths of hell,
a place of darkness
emptiness
where the echoes of loneliness
shriek and yell.

I clutch my ears tight,
wrap myself in a fetal posture
but the echoes never die off
they never grow softer,
but always getting louder
louder
LOUDER!

It was Hope that broke me,
and as I sit here
in the darkness,
images of life start to fade,
like words upon the yellowing pages
of a book
left forgotten on a dusty shelf.
I start to wonder if the
darkness will be chased away,
But then, I no longer hope for light.

Written at 3:44 AM

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sleeping sun

Sleeping Sun (Nightwish)

The sun is sleeping quietly
Once upon a century
Wistful oceans calm and red
Ardent caresses laid to rest
For my dreams I hold my life
For wishes I behold my nights
A truth at the end of time
Losing faith makes a crime

I wish for this night-time to last for a life-time
The darkness around me - shores of a solar sea
Oh how I wish to go down with the sun
Sleeping
Weeping
With you

Sorrow has a human heart
From my God it will depart
I'd sail before a thousand moons
Never finding where to go
222 days of light
Will be desired by a night
A moment for the poet's play
Until there's nothing left to say

Written at 12:25 AM

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Sunday, August 20, 2006

end of all hope

End of All Hope (Nightwish)

It is the end of all hope
To lose the child, the faith
To end all the innocence
To be someone like me
This is the birth of all hope
To have what I once had
This life unforgiven
It will end with a birth

No will to wake for this morn
To see another black rose born
Deathbed is slowly covered with snow

Angels, they fell first but I'm still here
Alone as they are drawing near
In heaven my masterpiece will finally be sung

Wounded is the deer that leaps highest
And my wound it cuts so deep
Turn off the light and let me pull the plug

Mandylion without a face
Deathwish without a prayer
End of hope
End of love
End of time
The rest is silence

Written at 2:45 AM

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Wednesday, August 16, 2006

another surprise party

Today, I threw another surprise birthday dinner--this time, for my close high school friend Lynn. Those of you who know about my previous 'surprise', well, you'll be happy to learn that this time went a LITTLE better. :P

She wasn't completely surprised though. :-( I told her that I wanted to treat her dinner because it was her birthday, and only mentioned that it would be she and I alone at the dinner. Actually, the plan was to have my two other close friends surprise her during our dinner. And, she KNEW about it!! Wondered why I was so persistent in having dinner with her. Then, in the car, she said I acted jittery, fiddling with the handphone. Of course, the final cinch was in the restaurant itself. My friend told me to sit facing the entrance, while my friend should have her back to the entrance. So, I did. But I forgot that there are windows in Dave's Deli...or rather, I didn't notice them. So Lynn saw Becca's reflection in the window as she was coming in with a lighted birthday cake.

SURPRISE!

Oh well...at least she didn't suspect fully.

Haha.

A party planner is definitely at the bottom of my list of careers.

Written at 1:19 AM

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Tuesday, August 15, 2006

sleeping away

Exhausted...

Shall retire early tonight, for once...and get the beauty sleep that my poor body has been so deprived of.

Sweet lull of dreams stroking the soul. Comforting the secret aches of the heart. Snatch of fantasy that becomes reality but for a moment.

But it matters not...after all, I do not know the difference till I wake.

Written at 12:05 AM

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Saturday, August 12, 2006

everything burns

Verse from Everything Burns (Ben Moody feat. Anastacia)

Walking through life unnoticed
Knowing that no one cares
Too consumed in their masquerade
No one sees her there
And still she sings

Written at 11:48 PM

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speaking up

What is with the politicians in this country? They hang the Universities and University Colleges Act (UUCA) over our heads, preventing us from joining any bodies, including political bodies; controlling our speech; controlling us from even gathering together; basically controlling every darn thing.

What really irks me is the way favoritism is played in this country. A few years ago, students were suspended for campaigning against the ISA. In another case, a student was grilled by his uni for publishing articles in an opposition publication and his campus publication, questioning the fairness of the campus council election. One other student was fined, and possibly suspended by her uni for campaigning during general elections.

I agree that it's not wise to have complete freedom of speech. Otherwise, anarchy and chaos would occur. Not that total freedom is even possible--but if we're allowed to say just about anything we want without regard for the social consequences, just like the Danish cartoons about Prophet Muhammad, then of course, you create a whole load of trouble.

Then again, control our freedom too much, and what do you end up with? A whole generation of people who can't think for themselves and just end up complaining about everything in this country without doing a thing about it. They want to create a first-world nation. So they try and build the tallest buildings, create a fancy airport, spending millions of our money building some silly sports center in London etc etc etc. And in the mean time, teaching us to think inside a tiny box. Then, they lament about how apathetic this generation is, and why oh why can't we be innovative, proactive etc?

It is the youth who have the passion to further causes, just like how opposition to the Vietnam War was done by university students. But no, when it comes to changing things in our country, we are apparently too 'immature' to do such things, as if we'll end up wrecking the entire nation. They even think the whole nation's too 'immature' to view what actually goes on in the Parliament. How on earth then can we, the public, work together to better this nation? And I thought we were a democratic country.

Here's the injustice of it all: we're not allowed to even try and change things in our country, ...but doing protests against issues which don't even concern us, like the Israel-Lebanon issue, go right ahead. Look at the pictures in the Star paper, and you'll see slogans like 'Belia Benci Israel', and 'to hell, Zion'--such lovely sentiments. All this is encouraged, while speaking up for the rights of the people in this country are not.

Go figure.

Written at 11:16 AM

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desert rose

Desert Rose (Sting)

I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in vain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand

I dream of fire
Those dreams that tie two hearts that will never die
And near the flames
The shadows play in the shape of man's desire

Written at 4:30 AM

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Sunday, August 06, 2006

surprise ee lynn! :D

Another lovely solitary night (morning?)...ah well. It's four thirty in the morning, whatever it is. Organized a 'surprise' birthday party for Ee Lynn. So-called 'surprise' anyway. Haha. I let the cat out of the bag when I made a phone call to her home, asking for her mum because she was supposed to buy the birthday cake. Here's how the conversation went:

Me : Hello, could I speak to Mrs Ng please?
Ee Lynn : She's not...Booey, is that you?
Me : (stunned) Uhh...no. This is not Booey (attempts different voice)
Ee Lynn : Booey, I've got caller ID.
Me : Damn. Uhh...(long pause as mind tries to create a plausible story as to why I would be calling her mum). Can I have your mum's handphone number? (attempt fails miserably)

Yup, that pretty much sums it all.

Of course, I still thought I could get away with it. Ee Lynn came to my place later in the evening. After a while, Lynn came over too. And then, she just point-blank asked Ee Lynn 'So, what did you think of the surprise?', despite me making she doesn't know! faces desperately.

Awkward silence.

Ee Lynn: I'll just pretend I don't know anything.

After much munching and chatting, we decided to bring out the cake. I was supposed to distract Ee Lynn--so I just dragged her upstairs to my room, urging her to see something. She was supposed to be kept upstairs for five minutes while the rest cleared the table and set up the cake and candles. So I got her to my room, sat her down, gave her a card and pressie, made her try the pressie, then tell her a seemingly ridiculous story (but really is true). When it seemed as if five minutes were up, we exited the room. As we were approaching the staircase, I yelled out 'We're coming down!', inexplicably. I don't know what on earth possessed me to do that silly thing.

Then, SURPRISE!

Song was sung, candles were blown, cake was cut, and jokes about my being a terrible actor were made. Sigh...

Ah well, at least I've got tons of food in the fridge. :D After Eight mints!

And thus ends the tale of an eventful surprise birthday party.

Written at 4:35 AM

1 comments

Wednesday, August 02, 2006

story: tempest of love and time

This is the story I submitted to the MPH story-writing competition. Fingers crossed--I'll win. :-)

Tempest of Love and Time

He drifts around lazily, unconcernedly. Looking up at the sky, he sees that it is not actually blue, like what the adults have always been telling him. It's really different shades of gray, shades of a maximum-security steel prison. It looks as if it will rain. But he isn't in the mood for rain. Taking the small round clock at his side, he shifts the hands forward, and then puts it down. The sky is now the perfect color of blue, often pictured in children's storybooks.

A memory flies through his mind; he is a small boy, standing up in the bus, getting ready to alight. While the bus is still moving, a bunch of boys push him roughly from the back. He grabs the metal bars on the side, just in time, and turns back to look at his aggressors. They glare back with scorn and arrogance, their cowardly hearts buried in bulks of mass and muscle. From that day on, he began taking karate classes.

Even though he could protect his physical body, he had not been able to protect his heart. The memories come rushing in a flood, an unstoppable torrent. He has grown up and found his first love, like the full bloom of a red rose. However, even the silkiness of the petals could not cover over the pricks from its thorns. He remembers the hurt that rent and lacerated his heart, caused by a single mortal.

They had been lovers. She was the one Marc really loved; after countless girls who only received his caresses, but never his heart. With her, Marc dared to expose his soul, revealing to her the intricate mechanisms that brought life to his entire being. She shared hers in return; a fusion of souls that remained unbroken despite many attempts by others to destroy it--jealous ex-lovers, false friends, misunderstanding parents, a hostile society. He shielded her from all those, enveloped her in the safety of his arms. But, he could not protect her from an unsurpassed foe: Time.

She had fallen ill; a mysterious disease which robbed precious life from her body, so that her soul grew dimmer, her flesh weaker. They had only but a few years together. At first, the days seemed long, dragged down by the chains of her disease. As love began to lighten the shadows of the disease, the days flew past like hours. They immersed themselves wholly in the love they shared, squeezing out every drop of passion in their soul and spirit till they could wring out no more. The more they loved, the faster Time ran. It was as if their love lasted only seconds, while the pain stretched for years. However, a greater pain soon seized his heart when she lay on her deathbed. Suddenly, it seemed as if those years had never been there, having flown by like seconds. He felt angry, cheated.

She did not die quietly, leaving with a peaceful smile on her lips. It was not rest she fell into, it was a fierce never-ending battle, full of anger and hatred. A long, painful process; as if she were struggling with Death himself, mortal will against eternal blade. Here again, Time played with him, lengthening the last few seconds of her final struggle so that they seemed like an eternity in hell.

Violent spasms, long cries of anguish, the relentless pain, merciless as the waves that pound the shore.

"Make it stop, Marc. Please make it stop..."

Helplessness engulfed his soul, paralyzing him. He wished for the end to come quickly, to end the agonized suffering. But Time only slowed his pace to a nonchalant amble.

"Oh God, it hurts. It hurts so much..."

Why are you playing with her? Enough! Dammit, stop it! He cried out in anguish, unable to bear the sight of his lover in such torment.

Pounds of helpless fury. Anger at being unable to protect her when she needed it most. Stuck in a mire designed by Time with a wicked smile and crafty hands.

Oh God, please stop it...stop the suffering. Take her...take her now!

And she was gone.

Marc opens his eyes, and the image of her slips away. It had been so long ago, he notes. The clock beside him continues to tick at the right pace. Marc smiles cynically; he is master of Time now. After the death of the only woman he loved, he had barricaded the gates. Pulled down the shutters. Locked the doors. Time's Achilles heel was love. He would quicken during the springs of love, and slow when winter arrived. Without love, Time became a slave to his will because there were no eternal winters that Time could torment him with. So, the loveless years had passed at a normal pace; there was no grief, but there was no joy either.

The raft begins to rock hard. Marc sits up in surprise. The sky is turning black; the waves are choppy, murky with anger. Rain starts to fall; large cold drops pouring down, soaking him to the bone. The thunder roars with menace, while the lightning flashes threateningly. The waves hit him around like a beach ball, mocking him. Marc grabs the clock; its hands are spinning uncontrollably. The storm rises in fury; raging at him with cold black hands. The hands of Death. He is about to die, Marc realizes.

Marc picks up a stick, and strikes it through the waves, pushing hard. But the waves prove too powerful for him. They whip the raft around playfully, exhausting his efforts at moving towards one direction. With a burst of strength, he pushes forth. The waves growl in return, splashing over him in anger. His hands slip, and the stick is gone.

"Damn."

A familiar helplessness begins to descend upon him.

"Come, we've got to get you out of here."

Marc turns, and sees a girl, her long brown hair whipped by the winds. She is on a raft too, but strangely enough, it appears to be unaffected by the rough waves, as if it were on smooth glass. She also looks dry, untouched by the rain. She smiles at him, extending her hand.

"No," Marc says angrily.

The rain pelts down in heavy sleets, plastering his hair to his cheek. Marc brushes it off impatiently. His eyes flash with anger. The girl looks back at him; her large eyes filled with sadness, and something else that Marc can't quite comprehend.

"The absence of love is death. You cannot live while you do not love," she says. "You are dying, can't you see?" She casts her gaze at the storm around them, thundering maliciously at him while ignoring her. She extends her hand again, her eyes filled with a familiar desperation.

The waves rise in tantrum, pushing him further away from her. She is shouting something at him, but he can't hear her; the sound of her voice muffled by the cries of the storm. Her shouts grow fainter and fainter; her figure becomes less and less visible as the waves throw them apart, while the thick rain forms a silver screen between them.

"Come out of the storm, Marc." He looks around. There is nothing but violent crashing waves and inky black sky, a canvas against the relentless pelting rain and sharp biting wind. He hears the words though he can't see her. Where is she? A sudden despondency grasps his heart, and he begins to feel cold inside, almost as cold as the bitter winds that scourge his skin.

"I'm through!" he yells, shaking his fist at the sky. "You win, again! You made me suffer when I loved her. Well, are you going to make me suffer now too? Crawl while I begin to die?"

Marc laughs hysterically.

"You can control me now...but I was master over you for years! Torture me now; but while you were beneath my feet, I felt no pain. None! I loved no one. No one at all...since she left me."

"I loved no one..." he repeats, softly.

Marc begins to weep, pounding his hand uselessly on the wood. He curls up in a fetal position, sobbing and shivering as the rain hits him mercilessly. Suddenly, a huge wave crashes upon him, overturning the raft. Marc quickly pushes his head above the water, and swims towards the raft, holding onto it as tightly as he can. As the sea whips him around, his legs begin to feel numb. His teeth chatter with the cold. He is dying of hypothermia. The seconds pass extremely slowly; he hears Time laughing.

"Marc. Marc."

Marc looks up at the sound of the whisper. The brown-haired girl is on a raft beside him. "I love you," she whispers. "Let me help you." Sincerity colors the pupils of her eyes a deep soulful brown; the love in her face glows with such warmth that it drives the cold away for an instant.

She extends her hand for the third time. With the slightest hesitation, Marc reaches out, and takes her hand. In the midst of a thunderstorm, two figures hold each other in a tight embrace as the sea whips them around, unheeding of the tempest around them, aware only of each other. Warmth of another soul beside, melting away all troubles and adversities. Love that covers and protects with a wide-spanned wing, keeping them snug and dry from the cold wetness of hate and emptiness. Through the falling rain, they kiss with unbridled passion, skin slick with unrestrained desire. Repressed emotion that explodes in a violent bouquet of love. Bittersweet with pain and passion. Time stops. They could have been embracing for seconds or hours. Marc does not know. He is only aware of her; everything else...time, space; they fail to exist.

When Marc tries to open his eyes, a bright light fills them. He squints and turns his eyes away. Sand grinds against his body. He gets up, and sees a vast ocean before him. He is no longer on the raft. Looking around, he sees the raft, broken and splintered on the shore.

"Marc."

He turns behind and sees the girl, a beautiful smile curved on her lips. She begins to walk towards him, her brown hair caressed gently by the breeze. Instinctively, Marc's feet move forward till he meets her up close, standing only a few inches apart. She brushes a tendril of wet hair from his cheek tenderly. In the background, he hears a gentle ticking sound, and wonders briefly about the wicked manipulations of Time. As he kisses her, the thoughts vanish. He would rather be a slave to love than master over Time.

Written at 12:49 AM

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