Forthnights

New year wishes

So 2006 is coming to an end....

Another year has passed, and as usual, everyone does plenty of reflecting on the year that has so quickly gone by. Has it really been 12 months? Is seems just like yesterday, we were welcoming 2006. Has it really been that long since 2000? When there was all the worry of the Y2K bug (still remember that?) and talk about July 1999 being doomsday. Has 9/11 really been 5 long years ago? What about the Tsunami in Indonesia? 2 years ago? Of course, you would have read by now that Saddam Hussein was hanged. Funnily, people still love making fun of George W.Bush... Has he really been president for so long?

Time truly flies.

But most of the time, what we all are concern about when recollecting the year is not current events, not elections, not world economics; its about you and me. Its how the year has been for us on a personal level.

I think this year has been my most active year in blogging. Its hard to believe just how many times i have sat in front of my computer, diligently typing all that i feel, and all that i think. In a way, i am glad that i did it. I get to look back on my own posts, reading my own thoughts and do more reflecting, and i get to read just how ridiculous i can get sometimes. Truth be told, its embarrassing reading back on my own blogs. After all, its like reading someones secrets, only its your own.

But a year it has been, and reading my post just make it all the clearer to me just what kind of year it has been for me. Its been tough, i would say. I just cant believe my mother ran away so many times. Cant believe she went into relapse so many times. Then I lost my motorbike, and found it.... both equally heart aching experiences. Went for a holiday in Singapore. Funny, it feels like i have gone through so much, yet when it comes down to writing it down, i am at a lost.

What was the highlight for me this year? Nothing much, yet so many things have happened too. So it feels more like a long marathon to the end, with constant challenges every single month. But nothing has happened to make me feel good about myself. I have achieved nothing this year, except to remain in one piece, coping with my problems. Is that something to shout about? Everyone has their challenges, and i have mine. But as i said, i'm just trying to make it through like in one piece!

The bond of friendship between my friends are stronger this time, i am at the brink of graduation, and my relationship with my girlfriend remains alright. So i guess thats something to be happy about. But then i think back on my old friends and suddenly realise that i havent seen them in 4 years!

Anyway, in short, there really isnt much i can think of worth saying of this year. Perhaps i should just read my entire blog again to refresh my memory. But i do know one thing. Thing WILL change a year from now. This time next year, i will no longer be a student, no longer attending college, friendships formed will now stand the test of time, and each will go their own way.

By the end of next year, i would have officially move on to the next phase of my life of an adult.

Next thing you know, im getting married and having children.. but not so fast ok!... i'm not ready to be a daddy yet.

My hopes for the new year is for my mother to suffer as little heart ache as possible. God knows how many years she has left, now at 51, but i pray that God bless her with at least one period of happiness in her life. I only hope that i am capable enough to give that to her.

I make no resolutions. But one quote reflects best what i wish.

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference"

With that, i wish you a happy new year ahead of you my friend...

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 5:17 pm Comments: 0

Its all coming back!

I’m angry. I’m frustrated…. Again.

The feeling is only too familiar to me by now, and it doesn’t help one bit.

Last night’s party went rather well, for some of us, and for a time. I won’t get into the funny and embarrassing details of it all, only that we were all having a good time laughing and playing like we haven’t for years. I even had to shout out loud in the balcony declaring that “I love to fart!” three times for the entire neighbourhood to hear. Worst of all, they got it on video.

It all went really well, right until the end just before we were about to leave. We were sitting down relaxing. But for some reason, my girlfriend wasn’t happy. She sarcastically remarked that I was so enthusiastic about dessert made by her friend, even asking for more, while on ‘countless’ other occasions,

Now, I don’t really know what that was all about. But I did not like one bit what she was trying to imply. Why spoil a perfectly enjoyable night by arguing about this? We got into an argument and stormed off just like that and I did not give chase.

I knew there was something else that was it. It could not have been the dessert. Was she thinking that I was flirting with her friend? She said that I don’t appreciate her. She said I treated her like rubbish, taking her for granted. I don’t remember doing anything that would make her feel that way. I was boiling too. It’s a stupid thing to say. What’s the matter if I liked dessert? I eat her food with a grin on my face, even if its not that great, because I know she made it with her heart. How can she said I don’t appreciate her?

I confronted her today, and asked her if I am supposed to be proving my worth to her every other day. She said she really doubts just how much she means to me… Oh, here we go again….. We got into anther argument, a big one. This time, she admitted that she is keeping a grudge against me; for not hospitalizing my mother. So that was the matter. I was angry, because it seemed more a matter of ego than anything else. She was of the opinion that my mother should be admitted the minute she starts showing instability.

My mother has been skipping her medication again, and for the entire week, she has been behaving weirdly again, stepping over my girlfriends toes here and there. Like I said before, it has always been a sore point between us.

I told her that I would not admit my mother simply because she pressures me to do so. She said it was the right thing to do. I said that that was her opinion, but to her, her opinion is the truth, and there can only be one truth. The decision lay with me; and even if it’s the wrong one, its still mine to make, and I refused to just admit my mother like that. The day I do it, is the day I decided so, not because I cave in into her pressure. At times like this, the difference between us are just so apparent. She has always been the strong arm tactic type. Right or wrong, yes or no, black or white. I said to her that the world is not in black and white. She just says that that’s how she sees things.

Anyway, she stormed off again, which just makes me all the angrier. I hate people who think that just because their angry, they can do as they want. Then, when they cool down, they have the cheek to blame you for the consequences of their actions. “Who asked you to make me angry?” they would say. The issue isn’t that they did something. The issue is, you made them angry. I said to her bluntly, “Last night, I was angry at you. You got angry at me for being angry at you. You challenge me to fight on as if saying ‘how dare you get angry at me’. But as it its, your feelings matter more than mine. Here we are talking about what made you angry, how you feel and what I have to do to make things better. What about my feelings? Drowned out by you.” Whenever we fight, its seldom about how I feel. Its seldom about me being upset. When she gets upset, I have to go console her and say sorry. When I get upset, she gets angry at me and since her fire is much hotter than mine, I inevitably end up having to play fireman; I have to be the cooler head, to initiate reconciliation and healing. When has she ever done that? When has she ever turned the other cheek? Never.

I turn the other cheek, I swallow my pride, I turn my guard down, vulnerable to her attacks. There will come a day, when I will no longer do it.

For all that she is, she is at heart a very proud woman, which isn’t always a bad thing. Dignity and respect rank highly in her books. But to me, it comes hand in hand with ego, unnecessary pride and self centeredness.

I confronted my mother about the medication. She skirted around the issue, refusing to answer my questions. But the answer was plain for me to see. She was yet again no longer of sane mind. All the regular signs were there again. Talking nonsense, refusing to eat, stopped watching TV, messing the room, complaining and back stabbing. Her medication was missing.

I took out the spare I keep and gave it to her forcefully. I told her in no uncertain terms that I will be giving her medication again. If she refused me these 4 days, come Wednesday when the hospital reopens, I will be sending her to the doctor. I called my brother, updated him, and again, he was his usual self, encouraging me to do this and that. I didn’t even bother trying to ask for his participation.

Yes, it all coming back to me now. It seems I can’t run away from my fate. But this time around, my heart is steel. If it were just my mother, I know what to do. But having a girlfriend who is so hard headed, opinionated, stubborn and plain stubborn just amplifies the problem; especially when she just seems to hate my entire family, and my family her.

So much for bringing the year to a good end.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 5:05 pm Comments: 0

So the party is on....

Friday night, we are having a get together (not party) thinly disguised as a new years party, but what is really a thinly veiled attempt for 2 of my buddies to get to know these 2 sweet ladies that they just seem not able to impress on their own

i dont know why i ever suggested it in the first place, but they took up my offer like it was sent from heaven. Since i only suggested it, and wasnt really willing to actually do any party organising, I quickly suggested that we do a pot luck.. each bring one dish. That way, they attendance was more assured, plus i dont have to cook for 8!

Its really very cute seeing these 2 buddies of mine the way they are. A message from the girl, and they are jumping up for joy. A day without a message, an invite for lunch turn down, and they are down for the rest of the day.

For Christmas yesterday, my friend followed us to an old friends place some 40km away from where we lived. Now, this friend is usually a late riser (like me) and big eater (also like me), but for some reason, even being Christmas, he was in a very gloomy mood. No mood to eat, no mood to play, no mood to do anything. The reason? LOVE.....

He sent an invitation to the girl a few days ago, but she never replied... and for the next 3 days, he though of nothing else. He was all upset over the matter. "Why didnt she reply me? Have i been to agrresive? What if she says no?"

Anyway, seeing the poor soul like that, not eating the big fat turkey in front of him, i got my girlfriend to call the girl of her dreams and invite her directly. They were friends after all. And when she said yes... well... to say he was happy was an understatement. Down the turkey, down the lasagna, down the cakes.... and i had my friend back again.

And now, he keeps on bothering me about what to buy for her gift... which is annoying but so cute. To see a full grown man get all scared, excited, euphoric and anxious at the same time.

They say that there are only 2 things that really get a man down. Money and women. And for my friends as well as myself, it holds true to the dot. Money can be earn, but you cant buy the love of a woman. You cant buy her smile, you can buy her kiss, you cant buy her heart. Woman are a scary lot.. (no offense!) They have a way of just piercing through the thick armour we men have made for ourselves. that armour can take bullets, it can withstand a sword and spear, but it cant withstand the sweet, gentle but piercing touch of a woman. Guys sometime put out an air of superiority and coolness and of invincibility, because inside, our hearts are really made of toufu. When the right woman comes along, there is no defense.

So come this party, hopefully these 2 friends will steel themselves and face the woman they want to know so badly. There is no defense for them. My advice, just bear your heart to them. Be honest, be sincere. If she is as good as you think, she will recognize you for who you are, and who knows, you might just hit it off. And if it doesnt, well, i wont lie... you'll probably feel down for the remainder of the year. But you'll get through it, and years later, you'll look back and be amused how your emotions take you for such a roller coaster ride, and you'll remember that being in love is sometimes a pleasurable torment.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 1:05 pm Comments: 1

I have someting to confess

Perhaps this doesn't quite suit the holiday spirit that we are all in right now, but I'm just going to come out of the closet and say it......

I have this huge crush on this particular person; and its really just driving me up the wall emotionally.

Actually, i have been keeping it for some time now, ignoring it, hoping it would just go away but it hasn't. That crazy emotional infatuation for that one person just wont seem to go away.

Don't get me wrong, i don't plan to do anything crazy or stupid. In fact, I am really just so confused as to why i still feel this way. It feels so wrong, but i just cant help it. I have searched myself deeply and honestly, and i just know that i am deeply in love with the wonderful woman that i am with night now. These 4 years of being together with her has been trying, tiresome and at times frustrating, but from it, i have reaped the rewards of a loving, sincere and trusting relationship. I am happy, I am grateful, I am content. So how is it that i suddenly find myself infatuated by this person? How come despite knowing just where my commitment and loyalties lie, I find myself wanting so much to get to know and care for this person so much? I struggle to answer these questions. I struggle to understand why my heart is like that. Is my emotions just playing tricks on me?

I find myself liking her company. I find myself wanting to know more of her, to chat with her, to make some connection with her. What aim do i hope to achieve? I have no idea. I definitely have no intention of starting a relationship with her or leaving my girlfriend. I just feel that strong emotional pull of wanting to know her better, to know who she is and what she is about. Is that wrong of me? Should I be feeling this way? If no, how can i make it stop?

Perhaps you may already have a picture of this person in your head. Slim, beautiful, sophisticated, sexy, sweet, cute, a flirt; your typical husband snatcher or third party woman. But you'd be absolutely wrong. In fact, quite the opposite is true. Comparatively, I think my girlfriend makes for a more attractive woman physically speaking. I find myself drawn not so much to her looks, but to her person. From the very beginning, i just felt this inexplicit attraction to her. The more i talked to her, the more she seemed so appealing. Smart, witty, direct, well read and true to herself. These were the very same reasons i was first attracted to my girlfriend.
Actually, the only real turmoil and confusion is just within me. She and i remain nothing more than just friends. In fact, we hardly see or speak to each other. Occasionally, we would bump into each other in college. Sometimes i would send messages to her, but she never replies them. In fact, she has treated me like nothing more than a good but distant friend. Courteous and friendly when we speak, but nothing more. The only times we met were during college functions when we were both actively involved.

I sat on it for so long. Days would pass with me just feeling all confused and down about my own emotions. The more i sat on it, the more it became clear to me that I was attracted to this person. I knew that had i not been already attached, i would have gone all out to know her and perhaps try to start something. That though really really really scared the hell out of me.

That was months ago. After weeks and weeks, the fire died down, and i though of her less and less. Emotionally, I became more and more settled; my attention to the things around me instead of her. I told myself that i have lost nothing. I told myself even if i never see her again, i have lost nothing. Her voice was just a call away, but i resisted through sheer stubbornness to give in to temptation.

Then something happened, that surprised even me. We bumped into each other again just the other day. On previous occasions, every time we met, conversation flew readily out of me. I spoke to her a lot, simply because i liked her so much. But for some reason, this time, i held my tongue and didnt make conversation, Just "Hie.. how are you.. Take care... bye.." My friend (who knew how i feel about her) noticed. He was spot on in his analysis, saying that i was deliberately holding my tongue. I'm not sure if she noticed though.

Yes, I did hold my tongue. What surprised me was that i did it out of emotion rather than reason; and my emotion was split in two. Half of me was just bursting to ask her out for lunch and chat again. But was this emotion that gave rise to another feeling. I dont really know how to describe it. I only know that that feeling made me just want to run away from her. To hold my tongue and keep my distance. A reluctance to fall into the temptation. And for what seemed like an eternity, i resisted the urge to create any conversation with her. So hold my tongue i did, walk away I did. But for the rest of the day, i was a bundle of emotional confusion. I felt that i had done the right thing. I walked away. Good. But why do i feel so down about the matter?

It may surprise you, but my girlfriend does know that i am fond of this particular person. Just like my friend, she too can see right through me. Amazingly, she said that she isnt surprised because she too could feel that the two of them were similar, hence my attraction to her. But in her own words, she trusts me. She said that I have earned her trust, and she knows I am loyal to her. She only ask that i do not betray it. It really made me love her even more.

I'm not proud of it, but there you have it.. One of the skeletons i keep in my closet.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 8:46 pm Comments: 1

Its my dads birthday

The 24th is my dads birthday.

He wanted to come back to KL to pass Christmas, but he couldnt due to his new job. He turns 51 this year, born in 1955.

He'll be spending his birthday and Christmas alone this year, since he's so far away. I cant imagine how he feels, having to spend your birthday and Christmas alone. Like i have said before, i feel sorry for him, because his life really seems to be in a mess. Now that he is finally divorced (for the third time), he is left to pick up the pieces and try to rebuild the rest of his life.

At 51, i know that he finds it hard. At an age where most of his peers are really retiring comfortably, my father is still struggling to make ends met. His current job is really very lousy, long hours with crummy pay, but its all he's got now. He said to me that at his age, not many people hire, he might as well do with what he has.

My own life story pales in comparison with his, with the number of mistakes he made, the number of wrong choices he made. After all, how many people have you met that studied Christian theology, did ministry work, married a depressed wife to later convert to Islam, marry and divorced for a total of 3 times? Not many i imagine.

Its true that when the parents argue, it is the children thats suffers. I remember my father telling me too that as children, we had to always honour and love our mother, simply because she is our mother. No further justification needed. However, i grew up admiring my father more than my mother. She seemed to alway be just plain old mom while my dad was the social butterfly, eloquent and charming. I always felt that i wanted to grow up to be just like him.

In a way, i have grown up to be a little like him. There are just so many traits i see in myself that remind me of him. Too much to be coincidence. He was always the smooth talker, seldom without something to say, and enjoy talking to people. In that sense, i am like him. I enjoy talking to people too. My mother doesnt like when i show traits similar to my father, like being active in activities and public speaking, or photography. My father enjoyed these things too, and even though he did little to encourage these activities to me, i find myself naturally drawn to it.

As it is, i am already very much like him. For all the faults he has made, for all the wrong he has done, he is part of the reason i am the person i am today. A lot of the values i hold on to today were imbued by him. A lot of our sense of responsibility and maturity were instilled by him. At a time when my brother and i hated my mother and blamed her for her illness, he stepped in and corrected our reason.

Though he left her, he always stressed that my brother and should continue to care and love her. Never once did he ever speak ill of her. Instead, he was the enforcer when at times when my brother and i refused to face my mother. The thing i appreciated most was the fact that he never just imposed his will on us. Even as children, he used to voice of reason to persuade and convince us more that with sheer brute force. In my teens, my sense of obligation to visit and care for my mother was in no small part due to his words to me that my mother was not to blame for the matter, and that she requires and deserves her son's love and care. His use of reason instead of coercion showed me that even when we were still so young, he respected our motives and emotions, and that it carried weight. He never forced my brother and i to convert, even though legally he could. He gave us a choice, and we both refused. End of story.

In that sense, i learnt what it means to show and value respect from him. While many of my peers had no say in the family and the decisions being made, i grew up feeling confident of myself because my father always listened and considered what i had to say seriously. I could always voice out my opinion, my brother and i were given trust, responsibilities, and a measure of authority over smaller matters concerning us.

I know that many people who know my father and have seen his life will have condemned and criticized him. But i also know that he becomes immensely proud (especially in front of my relatives) when speaking of my brother and I. We are his pride and joy, and in his own words "You boys are all i have left," Whenever he says that, i feel like i just want to make him proud so that he can have something to shout about, despite all his failings.

It is only too easy to fault him. Its only too easy to think ill of him and to say that he deserves his fate. But as a son speaking, whatever that i have become now, he deserves half the credit. I grew up respecting my father, and hanged on every word he said. At least he was wise enough to only say things that would inspire us and lead us in the right direction; words that would ultimately build my conscience.

Happy Birthday and Blessed Christmas pa. Sorry you have to spend it alone. God bless you in rebuilding your shattered life.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 3:46 am Comments: 0

All set to go?

I just observed something concerning my mother…

She seems to have settled down compared to a few weeks ago. She’s pretty much resumed all the things she used to do; watch TV, go for walks, and do some house chores here and there. She’s even being very nice to me, offering to make drinks for me every now and then.

But there have been the occasional talk of wanting to move away for good. Once or twice, she said to me that she wants to move away, since my brother and I are unable to support her. It seems she rather take her chances on her own than to be stuck with us, wondering whether she’ll be taken care of. She also says that she just doesn’t want to get used to the life in KL, and the price tag that comes along with living in a city.

Strange since it seems to me that she is actually more comfortable here. One thing that she said to me last week that really made me really happy (though I kept it to myself) was this: “Last time, when I stayed alone, I used to have suicidal thoughts. One good thing about staying with you boys is that I don’t have those thoughts anymore.” I was really surprised to hear that, in fact, very surprised. Firstly, she having serious suicidal thoughts was unknown to me. Secondly, I was glad that at least with us, she doesn’t have them.

In all, when my mother is stable, she really is quite ok to deal with. She is just very insecure about money (which is understandable given our situation) and she is sort of a hermit; she doesn’t like it when I have friends come over to the house. She says she likes her privacy.

The thing that really bugs me is this: she has all her clothes and essential things packed in a bag. It has been that way since the beginning. Most people who settle down in a place unpack, using cabinets, drawers etc. But for some reason, my mother has chosen NOT to unpack. In fact, she has all her things neatly in her bag, and she doesn’t like it when I try to take it out and put it in the wardrobe. It tells me that mentally, she is still on the move. I’m not sure if she consciously does it, but having your bags packed like that can only mean one thing; you are ready to move at a moments notice.

Come this New Year, my mother would have been staying with us for a year plus now. It’s significant because I have not lived under the same roof with her since I was 8 years old. We were separated then because my father took us away to live with my relatives. Since then, the only time I stayed with her was during my short holidays. Now at 21, I am living with my mother finally. But just what I had to go through to reach this stage is just amazing to me.

As a kid, we had to run away from her whenever it was reaching the end of the holidays. Every time we went to visit her, she would want us to stay for good, and she’d lock up the doors. But every single time, my brother and I found some way to escape back to KL. Its so strange thinking back on those times; we had to run away from our own mother. It’s a mix bag of feelings. I felt terrified of not being able to get away and desperate to find a way home. But at the same time, I dreaded having to leave my mother. Before we ‘escape’, all I wanted to do was get out. But after we managed it and we were on our way safely back to KL, all I wanted was to turn back. I would get all red eyed, close to crying. For some stupid reason, being a boy, I never dared cry in front of my brother.

In my teens, my mother did not strike fear in me like she used to. I would go back to see her on my own initiative. I never really got to enjoy holidays like my friends. To them, holiday involved going for trips, or working. But for me it was neither. Every holiday, I was on a mission. A mission to fulfil my long neglected duty as a son. I would take the bus alone, travel 300km and stay as long as is I could stand it. I always had a hard time turning my friends down. Many wanted to come along with me to visit the northern parts of the country. “Why cant I come along? I can just stay with you in your house right?” they would say. I never knew how to tell them that things at my ‘home town’ was far from comfortable. I never knew in what state the house or my mother would be in. My trips up north were never a holiday affair. They felt more like going for boot camp than going for a picnic. Every trip presented a challenge. Some times, she would not be around at all, other tines, she slept outside the door, because she lost her key. Worst of all was when I came and find some strange man ‘renting’ a room. Needless to say, I booted the guy out the day I arrived.

Finally, exiting my teen years, I am once again living with my mother. Though by any measure, this is a good thing, it has its challenges as you can read from my recollections in this blog. It has caused me so much heartache and tears. I remember it as if it was just yesterday; the day my brother and I walked into her house all messed up and stinking with her skinny, half naked body lying totally still on the kitchen floor. I stared at her for what seemed an eternity. My heart skipped a beat, and I dared not breathe. “Am I too late? Are we destined to regret not coming sooner? Have I let my mother die alone in this cold empty house?” I think I have mentioned here before of one nightmare I had as a child.

I dreamt that I was digging my father and mothers grave with a shovel in the middle of nowhere. I woke up screaming and crying and ran straight to my mothers’ room telling them I don’t want them to die. It is a nightmare I have remembered until today.

At that moment, staring at my mothers’ still body, I though my nightmare had come true.
In a word, it’s traumatic.

Reflecting on all that has happened since then to today, I can say with certainty that it has only made me stronger. Every time I survive some traumatic episode, every time I feel that pain lifted, and I am still intact, I feel myself grow a bit. Pain really has a way of making you sit up and pay attention to the things around you. Knowing what hurts you most really make you realise what matters most to you. It makes you so much more aware of whom and what you care about. Pain is often an unwelcome, but inevitable catalyst to growth.

There is still so much for me to learn, so much more room for me to grow. I never imagined I’d go through all that I have. They say if you knew what lay ahead of your journey, you’d never start. 21 years into the journey of my life, I’m glad I never saw it coming; I’d never think I could handle it.

The present is a gift. And for now, I am just glad that despite all that has happen, I still have my her with me. Its God’s gift to me; a second chance to care and love my mother.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 5:33 pm Comments: 1

It could be me, even you....

I saw someone dead today.

It was at a junction near my college. As I passed by, there was a large gathering of people on the opposite side of the road. There were was a car parked in the middle of the road, there were people standing around. I didn’t realise what was happening until I saw it; a young man, dressed in black lying in a pool of blood, his head twisted in an awkward position, his blank, lifeless eyes staring right back at me as I passed by.

Fact:

• There are over 1.2 million people killed in road crashes around the world, and 20-50 times that number suffer from serious injuries yearly
• 3,300 deaths and over 66,000 serious injuries occur each day from road crashes

We hear about accidents everyday. We accept that there will always be accidents and deaths. Accept it so much that the death toll of road deaths hardly raises an eyebrow. We make a big deal about war casualties; of the holocaust, of the atomic bomb etc… But more have died in road accidents than the atomic bomb. Flip through any history book, and you’d get pages and pages of the atomic bomb while road deaths are nothing more than a brief statistic; hardly worth your attention.

As I entered class, I shared what I saw with my friends. To be honest, it did disturb me for the rest of the day. I couldn’t get the image out of my heads. My friends didn’t quite understand why. My friends listened with interest and surprise, but to them, it was just news. But to me, that could have easily been me. I use that road almost every other day. Just like that man, I ride a motorbike too. It scares the living daylights out of me. To die suddenly on the road, body twisted and bloodied for all who pass by to see, waiting for the ambulance to come. People look with interest, being the usual busybody. In the end, the greatest mark you leave behind in this world is a blood stained road and a number to the local road death rate.

We read about death and suffering so much in the papers these days; we have become almost insensitive towards it. Reading that someone day doesn’t raise an eyebrow as much as it used to. What does raise an eyebrow is how that person died. Just dying doesn’t merit you a mention in the papers anymore these days; you have to either be rich and famous, or you die in some spectacular freak accident that has one in a million chance of happening; and you happen to be that one.

It’s interesting how we make such an exception to road safety. Would you even board a plane if you knew there was a one in ten chance that the plane might crash? Would a fine be enough for a pilot who drinks and flies? More people have died one the road in a year than the total amount of people who ever died in a plane crash. So how come its so hard to be a pilot and so easy to drive a car? Aerial accidents are unacceptable, because we are so terrified of it and we go out of our way to reduce it. But the same does not apply back on the ground.

What does this tell us? It tells me that everything has a price to it, including our life. All planes are grounded when there is a storm or haze. How come the world doesn’t stop driving for a day so that no one dies? Because the need for it is too great. Without our transportation, we cease to function. So we readily take the risk that comes with is. Just like a pilot navigating in stormy weather, we take our chances rather than stay safe. That is why we accept road deaths as part of our society. We aren’t going to give up our cars simply because a few of us died here and there. That’s the value people truly put on their life. Ironically, we make a big deal about gun control issues, of crime rates, of terrorist attacks, but we readily throw in the dice and bet our lives on the road, for the sake of convenience. We reason that accidents happen anyway. We read the stats and say that 1 in 20 is still pretty good odds.

Worse of all, we all have this invincible impression that it wont happen to us. Maybe it’s because we read so much about other people dying that these misfortunes seem to usually happen to others. But statistics are useless. They make you think playing Russian roulette is a good idea. They make you forget that behind every number was a person with a family, with friends, with a life, with so much potential, so many dreams.

Come this Christmas, many people will be travelling, be it to church or to their home towns. It is a sad truth that accidents will continue to happen, and there will surely be casualties. So when you sit in that car, buckle up, stay alert, never rush and always be careful. Watch out for motorcyclists; you might end saving your life as well as mine.

Take care everybody.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 1:15 pm Comments: 0

Merry Christmas my friend.....

So Christmas is around the corner again…..

It the western world, I guess Christmas is just about the biggest holiday season there is. There’s all the year end shopping and festivities are just in the air. Shopping malls are filled with people, Christmas trees, carols, candy cane, new gifts, towns painted red and white, its all part of what we all associated during Christmas; which is really strange, since that’s not what Christmas is really supposed to be about…

In Malaysia, it’s pretty much the same, except five notches down, and there’s no snow… It seems to me Christmas is being more and more commercialized, watered down, and deviating from its original purpose.

In essence, Christmas actually is a religious celebration. We are celebrating the birth of the messiah, the saviour, God’s son, the sacrificial lamb, destined to die for our sins… But look around you, and the man you’ll more likely see Santa.

Where did Santa come from? I heard that he was actually some German saint named Nicholas who gave out gifts to poor children during Christmas; Saint Nicholas in German eventually evolved into Santa Claus. Ok, so there’s where an origin. But what about him living in the north pole, with 12 reindeers, a flying sleigh and an entire workforce of elves? Where did THAT come from? Why do we have a Christmas tree? I even heard some time last year, they wanted to change the Christmas tree into a ‘Holiday tree’. Its ridiculous actually. Parents should stop telling children these stories. Disney should stop making such films such as Polar Express a few years ago…. It deviates too far from the original story of a noble man giving out gifs to children during winter. That story in itself is so much more meaningful, something worth sharing and celebrating in. Christmas is about God’s gift to us, the gift of forgiveness. Saint Nicholas too went about giving gifts…. That’s why we say Christmas is about giving.

But it seems to me it has become about receiving now than giving. We mull over what we need to buy for others. We see it as an obligation. “Oh, it’s Christmas, I have to buy this and that for so and so…” We quickly get our Christmas shopping done, to get it done and over with. In turn we eagerly expect to receive a gift from the people around us. Just want any Christmas movie, and you’ll see the most exciting part for the children would be Christmas morning where they receive and open their gift. The message: Christmas is fun, because you receive gifts. Not that there’s anything wrong with it. I just feel that it could be improved. There should be as much joy in the giving as the receiving. I’d love to watch a movie that shows just much trouble a person goes through to get that one gift for his or her loved one. Emphasis should be given to the person who is actually giving, and the joy in it. They say love means sacrifice. Love means giving without expectation. Instead, we get a whole lot of “I got this for Christmas… I got that for Christmas….” When we say Christmas is the season of giving, we really are referring to those around us. They give… we receive. We give too, but only because we want to receive! I may be wrong, and I’m sure many people aren’t like that. But watching all sorts of Christmas movies and the emphasis given, that’s the impression I get.

In a way, Christmas is just another excuse for us Malaysians to go shopping. Its never celebrated with as much hype as other celebrations like Aidilfitri, Chinese New year or Deepavali, but you get a big Christmas discount anyway. Real Christmas celebrations are really confined to the Christian communities, within Churches and homes. Though I always feel a little strange seeing Christmas trees around since firstly, those are fake trees, and secondly, who said we had to have a Christmas tree? And I get this funny when I hear that song that goes “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…. “ simply because there I have never seen a white Christmas.

It can’t hurt to celebrate Christmas, its just the original message of it seems to be drowned out more and more by secularism and consumerism. Christmas is more about the latest game console, the newest toys, whether Windows Vista will come out in time. Then when that is sorted out, we talk about Santa, we talk about Rudolph, and we talk about the Christmas tree, the jingle bells, the presents under the tree……… So much so that, we all conspicuously forget to talk about that one other guy who’s birthday we are really supposed to be celebrating. Do you really need me to say his name?

Merry Christmas everyone.. God bless you and stay safe.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 1:21 am Comments: 0

Pics of caroling... finally

Firstly, I apologise for the blurred pictures. There’s only so much light, and so much a digicam can do!

I know I said I’d be Santa this year, but it didn’t quite work out.

As you can see, I didn’t give it up easily and gave the new Santa a good punch! :-p. We had one final practice on Tuesday, in which I didn’t play the guitar. But it went horribly; for some reason, my friend couldn’t catch the proper tempo for the songs without me leading, plus the girls weren’t used to his lead. So in the end, we decided that I was needed more as a guitarist than Santa. Santa’s post was handed over to one of the girls who turned out to be a rather cute, cheerful and hyper Santa. As you will see from the photos, she was so fast moving; most of her pictures were all blurred. Now that’s what we call speed!

Anyway, things went typical Malaysia style, with the majority of us all arriving late, us included. It took an hour from the usual 30 minutes to arrive at the hospital due to the jam in KL. What more, just as we were ready to go to the hospital, it started to rain cats and dogs. It really seemed like lady luck wasn’t on our side when at practice, one of the guitar strings snapped. Just as we were about to start singing, my guitar string napped. Great start.

But as the evening unfolded, we forgot about it all, and just continued with the carolling. 3 years running, its still a fun thing. Unlike in the west, carolling during Christmas time isn’t really a mainstream activity. Mostly confined to the Christian communities, the only other time the general public get to see carollers are in the shopping malls. In short, carolling is more of a novelty than anything else.

Anyway, the carolling with rather smoothly after that, with people all sorts of people coming out of their rooms to look at what’s happening and singing along with us. Just like previous years, the most touching times were always in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) where all the patients were in critical condition.

When we entered the ICU, even before we even began doing anything, the son of one particular old lady came up to us to request a song. For course, we obliged the family. You could just see how special it was for them, especially knowing that their mother was critically ill, not knowing if she would live to see another Christmas. As we sang, the son bent over and uttered to the mother, “Look ma, they are singing for you! They are singing for you!” and the mother just nodding her head in understanding. That really made the night for me… That was why I felt doing this was worth it, even if it meant a whole lot of trouble and not a cent in return.

At days end, we were all exhausted from the singing, and my fingers were hurting from all the playing. But like I said, it was the third and final time we were going to do this. This time round next, all of us would be elsewhere, most of the nurses would be graduated and working in their respective hospitals, and it would be someone else’s turn to keep up the tradition.

It is a memory I will undoubtedly cherish, as will many of the carollers and friends who have done it with me for three years running. It’s a special memory to me; one to remind me that in our times of laughter and joy, especially around Christmas, we should never forget that there are still people, fighting to stay alive at that very moment, friends praying and hoping for a miracle for their beloved, and those who lost their loved ones, just as everyone else seems to be celebrating. Let us not let our cheerful shouts of Merry Christmas drown out the silent sobs of those whose Christmas is more black than red.

In the mean time, hope you like the pics

Ok, so here are the photos of the caroling we did this year... it took me a looong time to upload, so enjoy da pics! And for some technical reason, the pictures are in reverse chronological order... which i dont know how to correct! I wasnt Santa after all (see accompanying post to know why)...... For the record, this is the third and most likely the final time my friends and i are doing this at the hospital during Christmas, and i had a blast!


Mr. And Mrs. Reindeer


Nope, no red nose here...


They look good, and they save lives... talk about a 'killer' nurses


Girlfriends younger bro, who undoubtedly the best looking guy there





Cute nurse with...erm.. less cute nurse.. (What?)



Girlfriend with her buddy


Cute nurses were running everywhere!


Man, we look like a spoof version of El Divo, minus the charm and the looks, the voice, pretty much everything except the black attire





Dont ask why.. we just did


Nice pic, but i honestly dont know why we were leaning forward in the first place


I guess being Chinese, kungfu is never far away no matter what the season


I guess the stress of performing in public really got to them!





The bunch of us that were screaming our lungs out


Posing one of the cute nurses! Who says charity's not rewarding? :p


Cheers for a job well done!


Singing really gets you hungry!



Latino quintet of carolers.... ok not quite, but at least we have guitars!


Its the smiles and cheers that make it special


Santa, with another original pose







Singing for this lady was really the highlight of it all


Singing a special request in the ICU..




Us singing at the wards again





Snoozing as his elves adjust his suite!


Santa with a wardobe malfunction


Erm..no intro needed i guess


Thats Santa winking at you! You musta been a good boy/girl!





Santa moves so fast, its hard to get a decent pic


Official photographer a.k.a former Santa


A day old baby!



My girlfriend with her good looking brother who was also one of the guitarist





Singing at the corridor


Our shadowless Super Santa with a patient


cute student nurse, with cute little girls.


Sorry bout the blur





The kids in the childrens ward


I'm not really singing!..im just opening my mouth real wide



Singing at the ward





The four of us guys



doing a final practice before starting


me punching santa


The ENd...

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 12:29 am Comments: 1

Goodbye Doby... I'm sorry....

It’s still hard to accept for me.

My brother gave our dog away to the animal shelter.I just feel extremely sad about the matter; its not just something you give away so easily like so toy you were tired of.

This was a life we are talking about. This is a dog that grew up not knowing any other master. This was a dog we nurtured from a cute, helpless little puppy to the young and health dog that he is today. We called him Doby; named after the character in Harry Porter and the Prisoner of Azkhaban, because we couldn’t think of a better name, and they both had pointy ears.

As a puppy, he wasn’t properly toilet trained, so he used to do his business just anywhere around the house, and we had clean it up time after time. We did eventually manage to teach him to do his business in the toilet, among the many other things he did pick up.

After many days of trying to teach him, I finally got him to understand basic things like “Hand”, “Stand”, “Lie down”, “Jump!” to the more amusing like “Where’s your doggy bone?” or “Off the bed!” to “Come here donkey boy….”… It was always fun, because as a dog, he never really understood any of the words we used, but he always understood what we meant. Similarly, we could always understand if he wanted something, or how he was feeling on particular days. Even dogs have their moods…. Some days he would be in a good mood, licking you all over the face, other days, he’d be naughty, trying to get you to chase him around the house, other times, he’d be grumpy and moody for no particular reason.

For the pass 2 years, feeding him, cleaning up after him, pinching his cute little face, kissing him on the head, bathing him, combing his fur became part of my routine. I accepted the good and the bad. Fur was everywhere; on the bed, inside my calculator, on my clothes, I literally had a pile of shit to clean every day, and I could never be away for too long a time, since the dog was dependent on us to feed him. But as reward, I got a loving little dog, one that would greet you every day with enthusiasm, one that would sit by your leg when you are sitting, sleep at your feet while lying, and roll over the floor when playing. He was a darling, charming his way into the hearts of many visitors who came to the house. Many said he was a handsome dog, others said he was cute. He had but one trick; his greatest but most effective trick, which he used as a means of begging for food. He would stand on his two legs, and the front 2 legs joint together waving up and down in the air.

It worked with many people, so much so that a friend of mine would ALWAYS bring something along “just for Doby to eat”… He even bought an entire chicken drumstick.. just for my dog… How come my dog gets preferential treatment over his master? Amusingly, when we were eating something different, he would ask me “I wonder if Doby has ever eaten…. … so and so…. ?“ and since I almost always only fed the canine dog biscuits, the answer would be no… but not for long.

Our neighbours did eventually start complaining. They said the dogs howled all the time when nobody was around. So, my brother brought him to his place, but over there, people started complaining too. I felt so guilty and so sorry. Doby was only doing what came naturally to him. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He howled because he was alone,and perhaps was feeling lonely.

Perhaps my brother had enough of keeping the dog. I know that ever since he moved there, my brother hasn’t really treated the dog well. Despite his initial promises to take full responsibility over the dog, my brother never came through to his words. Despite all his talk of needing to treat the dog well, he walloped the dog on numerous occasions. Whenever my brother lost his temper with the dog, he would really trash the dog, and being a small dog, there was nothing much Doby could do in defence. My father having seen the way my brother beat the living daylights out of the dog, felt very worried about my brother and his abusive attitude. It’s the natural instinct of an animal to protect itself. By nature, they’d rather run away then get confrontational. Contrary to what people think, a snake, tiger or lion would not attack a human without reason. They were either injured and could not hunt, you were intruding on their territory, or they were cornered and there was no place to run, except to fight. There is no animal more dangerous than one cornered. In one of my brother’s rages, the dog ran under the bed, trying to avoid my brother. He reached his hand into the bed and tried to grab the dog out. Doby bit him. Not a severe bite, but enough to cause pain.

Finger bleeding a little, he moved the bed, grabbed the dog and gave him a thorough bashing. After that day, my brother already started talking about giving Doby away. I guess the decision to get rid of him was manifold. Having a dog to take care of severely limited my brother’s freedom there. Previously, it was I who had to shoulder that responsibility. The neighbours were finally complaining about the dog, and the dog was by then really terrified of my brother. The last time I saw Doby, he was so obviously one unhappy dog.

In a way, it is for the better that my brother gave Doby to the animal shelter. At least over there, there will be no one to hit him and beat him up. He would be among a hundred other dogs, though I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. What worries me is what is to become of him. Will someone else adopt him? Unlikely. There as so many dogs there, with only so much space and money. If no one adopts him, one day, he will be put to sleep.

In that sense, I feel as if we have sentenced the dog to life in prison, then death by lethal injection. It really breaks my heart thinking of Doby right now. I don’t really know just how to express it out. Despite complaining about the dog, I really loved and cared for the dog so much. He was like a part of this family, a member of our household. We were responsible for him. I felt responsible for him. He trusted us, depended on us; he would never have imagined that we would just give him away like that. No child would ever expect that from their parents. No parent would give their child away willingly. You’d have to pry them away from their dead cold fingers.

“Its for the better,” my brother said. But to me, it was more for our own good than the dogs. We got the dog for selfish reasons, and now we gave his away, again for our selfish reasons. To think of Doby there in his cage alone, abandoned by his owners, to have no one to pat him, care for him, play with him and keep him company; it just makes my heart sink. The dog deserved better than this fate. He deserved better owners that us. In his short 2 years of life, all he got to see was mostly the four walls of my home, food treats here and there, and countless senseless beatings……… and now we leave him in a shelter somewhere, doomed to be killed when they cant keep him anymore. I genuinely thought that we would be keeping him till the end of his days. On numerous occasions, I wondered if I would ever see Doby breathe his last breath, and if I would ever be able to handle seeing my beloved dog die. But that day will never come now. I will never see Doby again. I will never hear his bark, or his howling. I will never feel his soft fur, his wet tongue licking me. I will never feel him snuggling up to me in bed again, or performing tricks for me.


Betrayal. That’s the word for it. Can you imagine how the dog would feel? It has been two weeks since my brother gave him away. Do you not think the dog wonders why he hasn’t seen his masters for so long? Do you not think he thinks of us too? Dogs are pack animals. Of course they will think of their pack. The issue is not about me, or how I feel about the matter. It’s about the dog, and what we have done to him. Life can just be so cruel sometimes. We always see ourselves at the receiving end of cruelty. I never thought that we would be the ones dishing it out. I feel so tempted to just blame my brother. All this would never have happened if he never got the dog in the first place, or if he was more responsible. I feel tempted to blame the neighbours; they could have just put up with it, since the dog never hurt anyone. But there is no use. No amount of blame would make things different.

Maybe I’m just being a cry baby. Maybe I’m making a fuss about nothing again. Maybe I’m being soft hearted about the matter. “Its just a dog,” you might say. Perhaps it comes down to me and who I am. I am a relater. Some feel the need to be respected, some feel the need to be appreciated, some feel the need to be admired. I feel the need to be wanted. At the top of my list, I want to know that people accept me, and they want having me around. At the heart of every friendship, every relationship, every interaction, I want to know that I have made a sincere, honest and meaningful connection with people. It is where my joy comes from, it is where my confidence and sense of self worth comes from. When any of these connections are lost to me, I mourn for it. I feel its lost, more than the lost of any cash or valuables; the end of a long friendship, the end of a relationship, its always significant. These are the things that define the chapters in our life. The events that chronicles our journey.

As funny as this may sound, having raised the dog from a pup, I do feel connected to the dog; whatever you call it, there was a real relationship between us. Now that that connection has been so abruptly cut off, I feel the pain of separation. I regret all that we did to the dog in the past, I mull over its the gloomy future, and I resent the part we played in the whole matter.

As I said, he deserved so much better. He didn’t deserve to have such irresponsible owners such as us.

For what its worth, I am sorry. If I could ever be granted one wish, it would be that you find a home, better than what we gave you, an owner who would love and care for you better than we ever did., and for you to live out you life with love, care and attention. I wish it with all my heart. Thank you for all that you have given us. I love you… and I’m sorry….

May God forgive me.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 12:51 am Comments: 1

Santa Claus is coming to hospital

Here comes Santa Claus!

Guess who’s going to become Santa Claus this year? Yup, yours truly has turned from guitarist to the big man in red for this years caroling in the hospital……..

For the past two years, I have been the guitarist, playing the songs, and guiding the group in singing the Christmas carols around the hospital. My classmate was Santa for two years… but this year, being the last time we’ll be doing this, he wanted to play some other role. So our original Santa became our new photographer, as since one I was a guy, and second, I already have a big belly, I was the next natural choice. I’m not sure whether to feel flattered or insulted….. :-P

In all honesty, I would want very much just to remain the guitarist. But since it IS our last time, I guess trying something different wouldn’t be too bad a change. After all, just how often does a man get to play Santa in his life right? Just don’t expect me to go “Ho ho ho…..” Who ever said Santa had to laugh like that? Our Santa for the past two years was certainly different. He didn’t try anything fancy, but neither did he bother to conform to what we all think Santa should be like. Most prominent of which was the shoes. We all think Santa wears boots, but this friend of mine didn’t have any boots, or a black shoe for the matter. So, he ended up wearing sneakers! AND1 basketball shoes… bright red and white. What do you think of that? Santa is supposed to be old, slow and fatherly. But our Santa was young vibrant and certainly no father figure…. Zooming in and out of rooms, shouting Merry Christmas here and there, our Santa; all geared up for a game of 3 on 3 was more ‘HipHop Santa’ than anything else.

Still it was cute, and we all loved him for it.... So how will this guitarist turned Santa do this time? I dont really know.... but i definitely wont be wearing sneakers. I'm not even sure of my duties. As far as i know, I'm just supposed to go around the wards, spreading the Christmas cheer, giving out candy to little children, and adults who think they are still one. I asked if i was even allowed to give the elderly patients candy, or the diabetes patients for the matter. Wont i end up killing one of these poor folk? Maybe i should be distributing protein shakes or vitamins instead? It makes more sense. But I dont think people would expect Santa to be giving out vitamins shouting "Ho..ho.. ho... exercise 3 times a week, 20minutes a day...... take ginger for good digestion... and Merry Christmas!"........ It might just spook everyone out....

Well, whatever happens, I'm sure its going to be a memorable occasion this coming Friday.... I'll try to post some pics here if they dont turn out too ugly..... :-]

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 12:17 pm Comments: 1

Pirates Paradise....

I’m ashamed to say it, but Malaysia is probably the world capital of piracy… Not the swash buckling pirates of the sea; but intellectual property piracy. In Malay, we call it ‘cetak rompak’… literally translated as ‘copy robbery’

In fact, it is so much a part of Malaysian society, we take it for granted. Buying pirated movies, mp3’s and computer software is so commonplace it doesn’t even raise an eyebrow; In shopping centres, in stores, and in the night markets. No night market would be complete without the pirated VCD/DVD/MP3 seller, blasting away some techno version of “Sweet Child of Mine” at their stalls.

Despite the government crackdown, there is no stopping these people. Our local enforcement just don’t have what it takes, but more on that later.

Pirated CD’s are such a common thing that to many of us Malaysians, songs come by cheap, movies are plenty, and software is easy to get. The latest games, amounting to a couple of hundred ringgit can be bought at RM5 (USD$1 = RM3.60). Software, any software, from CAD Engineering Software, programming in C++, Photoshop CS2, which in real actually cost thousands, ANYTHING, can be bought at RM5 from your local friendly Pirates Store. Pornography is more ‘expensive’ at RM15. Wherever there is a high density of people, you’ll see some sort of CD seller selling out in the open, music blasting from their speakers.

Look at the PC of any average savvy young Malaysian, and you’ll find gigabytes upon gigabytes of songs, movies, and software, all of it, a pirate copy, including the Windows OS. We have become so immune to it that buying a pirated CD hardly feels like a crime at all. In a way, all of us here are criminals. But ask around and you find that none of us consider ourselves a criminal at all. It’s a matter of perception and culture. Most of us would not go shop lifting or stealing. But it’s hard for the average Malaysian to equal buying software for RM5 as stealing. To them, they want the software, but they aren’t going to pay a couple of hundred dollars to get it, and since it doesn’t hurt anybody, why not buy a pirated copy at RM5? I have Catia installed on my computer for my assignments in class. Catia is an industry standard engineering software, the license of each unit amounts to thousands. How much do you think I got it for? Even the lecturers assume we would have the software needed for the assignment. Never once were we asked to use the computers in the college since there were hardly enough anyway; 200 students to 12 computers? Come on, get real.

Go to Petaling Street in KL, and you see just how dominant these syndicates are. Even the police and local municipal dare not do a seizure without a full squad of properly armed enforcers. When you walk by, you get hounded by sellers pushing the latest films to you, some just out, others not shown in Malaysia. When that doesn’t work, they quietly ask you “Do you want porn? Any type, any kind; local, Japanese, Hong Kong, Caucasian, Gay, Lesbian, S&M, soft-porn, hardcore.. you name it, we got it.” All of us who have been there will surely be asked at least once. There’s not just one stall, there’s a dozen of them. So when you say no to one, you have to repeat yourself to 11 more. The place is notorious for it. So don’t be surprised if you see some man, quickly making his way out of the street, black plastic in hand, eyes darting left and right with a hint of embarrassment.

The poor government has tried to stop it by cracking down on these syndicates. Most of us know that there are people paid up within the enforcers. These pirates operate quickly and efficiently and they often have the backing of someone bigger. Let me give you a first hand account of one such crackdown.

Near my place, there used to be an entire street full of these sellers. They sold openly and without fear; movies one section, music one section, porn one section (that doesn’t happen anymore). The entire street was lit bright, music blasting, making the atmosphere really exciting. For a long time, browsing for CD’s after dinner was a common activity. All these stalls each had one car behind them. One fine day, just after I bought the latest movie, the walkie talkie of the sellers crackled “Pack up, go ASAP.” There were always watch dogs elsewhere. Just like that, the entire row of stalls started to dismantle, CD’s were loaded into the boots of the cars, lights were taken down. They all moved in such a highly organised manner, you’d think they had a drill before. Within 5 minutes, the cars started to leave, and just like that, the streets were half empty; 5 minutes and not a trace behind. For the thrill of it, I stayed behind. 15minutes later, the enforcers arrived. As if expecting it to be empty, the officers just hanged around for another 15 minutes and left empty handed. 30minutes after they left, these guys were back again setting up stall, business as usual.

How can you beat that? Enforcers have to plan weeks ahead before a raid. Officers have to be selected, reports have to be filed, thorough briefings have to be made and permission has to be granted before anything can be done. On the other camp, these syndicates are flexible, creative and fearless. Stalls can be set up and dismantle in 5 minutes, at a location of their choosing, all just with a quick word from their boss. When there is warning, run like hell. If you get caught, don’t worry, someone will bail you out.

But the true problem is only half with the seller. Business is so good; crime is paying so handsomely because there is demand for what they offer. There lies the greatest challenge for the government; the changing of our society and its mindset. Just like animal poaching, as long as there is a demand, there will always be supply. We want movies not censored by the local authorities, we want movies banned in Malaysia (it’s a long list). We want everything the government doesn’t want us to see. Our society almost demands that we be offered all sorts of software, movies and songs under the sun for ridiculously low prices. Americans buy a song for 99cents from iTunes, Malaysians buy about 100 MP3’s for RM5. You do the math. We want them good, cheap and fast. Like I said, Malaysians are a pampered lot. We live in a food haven, have no natural disasters, and we get to buy software at dirt cheap prices. There are laws against buying this stuff, but our jails aren’t big enough to keep 20million people, and even if it did, there would be no one left on the outside.. So how do you solve such a problem? Its easy to teach a child not to steal, but its different when you try to make them understand what it means to plagiarise, and why its wrong.

You can try the cane. It might deter them with it, but you can’t change their minds with it. The minute you turn you back, they are at it again.

There is no solution; at least not one in the near future; because we are just so darn happy about it. We nod in agreement when we criticise piracy, we advocate it to the public, we write blogs about it :-p , but we still remain ‘iPirates’ number one fan. There is no will to change, because we are so used to reaping the benefits of these activities. In this instance, crime does pay. Well, at least for now.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 1:36 am Comments: 0

What happened to all the good songs?

They just don’t make songs like they used to anymore…..

Our generation is a deprived lot. It seems we are all constantly bombarded by annoyingly catchy but totally useless pop tunes over the radio. What happened to the good old days when a song was less about who sang it and how catchy and more about what the song is about, what it’s trying to convey?

Blame it on the Backstreet Boys, blame it on N’Sync, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, The Spice Girls, blame in on the entire 90’s generation of boy bands (they aren’t even a band! They should be called bunch of boys) and pop princesses who wooed and courted us with their brand of never ending love songs, proclaiming ‘I’ll never break your heart’, ‘Baby One More time’, as if you can’t love a person enough…….. ‘I’m a slave for you’…. Blame it on Los Del Rios, that bunch of old men who made all of us do the Macarena. I remember in secondary, there was always some new group in town promoting their hit single… Lets see, there was BSB, N’Sync, The Moffats, there was Human Nature, Bewitched, Steps, S Club 7, 911, Five, M2M, Smile, blah blah blah……….. and the list goes on and on, there were so many of them, and they all had only 1 hit single.. .the end.

But seriously, these few days, I find myself turning more to music from the olden days than listening to what’s on radio. Love songs have always dominated the airwaves… which is really ok. After all, love makes the world go round. But all they seem to sing is “I love you… ooohh.. I really love you….. lalaa…. I really really love you so much”. Have some depth for goodness sake! Change tack! If you notice, good songs never go away. When these song writers finally decide that they have no talent in song writing after all, they just rearrange those best loved evergreen songs and get the latest hunk or princess to sing it. Westlife was particularly good at this, relying almost entirely on the appeal of well established and much loved songs to get people to listen.
What gets me cooked up is not so much the tune, but more to the lyrics. Good lyrics touch you at a certain level. Isn’t it universal for us to be feeling a certain way, and find a song that brings out what we feel, exactly? Good lyrics speak to you, they convey the message across, but more powerfully, they convey the emotions across. Whatever the song is about, at the end of it, you feel what it wanted to say. Good lyrics have depth; it tells you more than just what is written. Sometimes you don’t even need real words..

Didn’t The Carpenters sing “Every shalalala…every wouwou, still shines. Every shingeling a ling….that their starting to sing, so fine. ” in Yesterday once more? Can you tell me what it means? Nothing! Its gibberish.. But for some very powerful reason, we understand the feelings behind it. We identify with the emotion behind it and we all sing along to it. It brings all of us down memory lane, and like the song title, we all thing about yesterday once more.
See what I mean? Now that’s a good song.

Plus, why are all the latest pop songs all love songs? Why are all the latest songs mostly about absolute nothing at all? I have listened to “Hips don’t lie” by Shakira over and over. Its catchy, just like the rest of the songs these days, but its really about nothing, just like the rest of the songs these says. I still don’t get what the song is supposed to mean. What about ‘In the Club’ by 50cents? Is it or is it not your birthday? What on Earth is Sean Paul saying when he ‘sings’? Of course, among the other top ten ‘catchy-but-don’t-mean-a-thing’ songs of the past decade was ‘Lemon tree’ by Fools Garden, ‘Macarena’ as earlier mentioned, “Who let the dogs out?” by Baha men (which should really be at the top of the list) and who could forget that totally nonsensical, supposedly back-masked, demon worshipping song ‘Asereje’ by Las Ketchup, complete with accompanying dance routine ala Macarena. These songs should come with a health hazard sign: “WARNING: Prolonged listening could lead to serious psychological disorders” Just look at me; I still have the lyrics to these songs stuck in my head after more than 5 years, and the more I try to forget, the more I remember.

In contrast, listen to songs like “Another day in paradise” by Phill Collins or “What a wonderful world” Neil Armstrong, “Take me home country road” John Denver, “Massachusetts” by Bee Gees, The Carpenters, The Beatles….etc etc There are so many, I just can’t list them all out. These songs are still around today. They don’t just sing about love songs, they sing about so many other emotions, so many parts of life that have not been given their due attention.
People who grew up in the 70’s and 80’s had such clear musical trends to relate to. From the hippie days of the 70’s to the disco days of the 80’s, they all had their icons of music. Bob Dylan, Jimmy Hendrix, The Rolling Stones, The Bee Gees, The Beatles, Lobo, Frank Sinatra, Andy Williams, The Supremes, The Osborne’s, The Jacksons, etc etc……… I’m just naming them from the top of my head….

What do people my age have? What are we supposed to tell our children in 2020? Songs from the 90’s and 2010’s…. oh yes…. There was 2Pac… he got shot… then there was Dr Dre… He wasn’t shot….. There was 50cent. Sold drugs, got shot, went to jail, recorded some rap tunes and became a millionaire… He’s a real role model. There was a confused rapper named Eminem who sang about killing his mother and wife. There was the Backstreet Boys and the rest of the cheesy boy bands… There was The Spice Girls with their catchy Brit-pop, but only had one successful album. I don’t know.. I’m lost. I really wonder how people are going to describe the 90’s and the first decade of this millennium in terms of music.

So many of us grew up listening to all these senseless pop songs; is it any wonder we are all a bunch of egg heads?

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 1:23 am Comments: 1

On blogging

What happened to all the hype about blogging?

There seem to be time when blogging seemed to be the latest craze. Everyone was jumping on the wagon, everyone was starting a blog, posting this and that. How many times have you read a blog with “Hey, this is my first blog.. don’t know what to say…. Blah blah…. I’m just blogging because it’s the latest hype….. etc etc” Then, the post get further and further apart, and then totally no activity, the last post being a year ago…..

It begs the question “What did these people have in mind in the first place?” Why did you start a blog? What are you doing it for? Is it for yourself? Is it for your friends? Or is it because people ask you to? Or maybe you just want to be popular? I ask this because the reason for you to start blogging would determine just how far you go.

Some blog for a very specific reason like educating people on a certain subject, but even that dies down eventually. Others just go on and on forever about their own lives (just like mine) I don’t really know how many active blogs there are out there, but from my own surfing, I do know that there are many defunct blogs, who’s owners have either died or gone away. I know of people who blog on social networking sites like Friendster, Myspace etc…. They go something like “Today very sad… ayoo…. A lot of assignment to do… How come I don’t have girlfriend?........ etc etc etc…” But I ask the question “Are you serious?” Why are you posting such things on your site? Is it some indirect way of crying for attention? Do you really want ALL your friends to know all the intimate things going on in your head?

Maybe its just me. Maybe I’m too private. Maybe people find it perfectly natural to pour out their heart in a site where everyone will surely read what you write. But I don’t. I keep a blog in my friendster site, but it has like 9 post, that’s it, and I don’t even bother maintaining it. To me, my blogging is a very personal matter. I blog alone. When I’m writing in my room, my door is locked. When I go to the internet café, I go alone. I don’t bring anyone with me, I don’t tell anyone im even going. I don’t even access my blog from my friends computer (except on rare occasions where I’m alone) Its personal, its confidential. In a way, it’s a secret chest of letters, pages and pages long, hidden in plain sight. And that to me is the beauty of it all; hidden in plain sight.

Usually, people want to be popular. They want people to know they have a blog. They promote their websites, they tell people of their blog, and when they write, they expect some to read it. They drive on popularity, and when they slowly realise that not that many people pay attention, they just stop. Why do you think myspace is the most popular website on earth? People want to know that others are interested in them. They all check to see how many hits they get on their home pages. They decorate their sites with cool html codes, they put all sorts of pics, mtvs and graphics so that people enjoy visiting them. But if you ask me, its all form over substance. People should not be reading what your write because it looks pretty. People should read and want to read more because they genuinely share a connection with what you say. Its not a popularity contest, its an endurance race; it’s a race of substance.

Contrary from what the rest of the world do, I try to keep my blog as private as I can. Yes, there were occasions when I did give it to people; but you can count those with one hand, and it wasn’t done for sake of popularity. To me, keeping it private gives me the freedom to really express whatever I want. If it were known to people, if it was somewhere I know those around me would read it, I would not have that freedom. I would instead be trying to write for popularity, I would be worried about whether what I write is interesting enough, if what I said would offend people, if what I said would be of relevance to them. Worst of all, I wouldn’t be able to say whatever I wanted, however I wanted to. My purpose of writing would be external driven, not internal. I would be writing for my readers sake, not my own. I would never have written half the things here if they were meant for friends to read.

On the other hand, having someone share your deepest most intimate thoughts is something we all long for at a certain level No man is an island. We all want to feel connected, wanted and needed. Therein lays the beauty of anonymity. We become a faceless voice, a persona without an identity, and we are free to express without inhibition. The only reason I dare write all that I have would be because of anonymity; to anyone who read this, I am no one but a stranger; just another person, with his own boring problems, with his own ranting. 9 in 10 people who stumble upon this page would not give it another read, and just move on.

Which is fine by me. I offer nothing fancy, I offer nothing of interest to you, except my personal struggles. I do not write for popularity, I do not bother with fancy templates. I chose layouts that don’t distract from my words. If you have read something that strikes a chord with you, welcome to the club. If you think my struggles are worth your 10 minutes reading, read on. My life is an open book to all those who read. What I care most about is making a genuine human connection. If you see what I see, hear what I hear, but mostly feel what I feel, then i would say we have made a connection, even if we don’t know each other. And that to me, is the best part of blogging.

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 2:25 pm Comments: 0

My confused heart, and my sore throat

Looks like burning the midnight oil one too many times has finally taken a toll on me. This morning, I woke up and discovered that I couldn’t talk without hurting my throat! I’m coughing and my nose is running like a tap

So for the rest of the day, I get to discover how it feels like to be a mute, relying on sign language and funny facial gestures. Luckily, I can still type……

Things at home have taken an unexpected, but welcomed change. For some bizarre reason, my mother seems to have just toned down, just like that. After that final outburst on Sunday, when I warned her clearly that it’s the hospital for her if she doesn’t behave, she just seemed to cool it.

From Monday till today, I have pretty much minded my own business. I didn’t bother her, and surprisingly, she didn’t bother me either. But of course, I can really totally not bother about her. I did buy her dinner for these few days, and she said thank you! No complaining, no fussing, no fighting. When I came back yesterday evening, she was watching TV! The TV had not been switched on for the entire month or so, ever since she went into her relapse. I sometimes like to refer to the TV as the ‘relapse indicator’, because I notice whenever she starts going into one of her episodes, the first thing she does is stop watching her regular hokkien dramas. She follows the episodes religiously when she is ok, and when she suddenly takes no interest in it, I know her mind is elsewhere.

To be honest, I don’t quite know what gotten into her. I don’t quite understand how just as suddenly as her relapse came; when she heard that my father wanted to stay here, it has seemingly just went off like that, though it may be a little too early to judge. But a lot of that fire, that battling spirit of hers seemed to die down after she got her wish of going off. I was against it, but my brother allowed it. So she travelled up north, and 6 hours later, she came back. When she came back, she just seemed less angry, less combative. What more, none of us have been supervising her medication.

Which again leads me to question the effectiveness, or the even the use of these medications. They are supposed to calm the patient down, to put them back in the right state of mind. But for the 2 weeks of hell that I suffered with her, I gave her medicine every single day, though it was just so difficult so many times. But I did it with the ultimate belief that it would work, that once the medication took hold of her, my mother would return to normal. But it never happened. In fact, the more I forced it on her, the more she seemed to rebel, the more restless and desperate she became. To the point where she tried to physically force her way out of the house.

So when we finally admitted defeat, and we let her go, surrendering her medication and giving her a free will to do as she likes, she went off and did her thing, scratched her itch, and came back, and then she was calm again, over the course of 3 days; 3 days of unsupervised medication, 3 days of freedom for her to do as she wished. That compared to 14 days of closely monitored supervision, 14 days of total control. What does this all mean? I am no psychiatrist; and even they seem to give contradicting advice. My girlfriend has always been for proper hospital treatment; after all, she is a nurse. But various psychiatrists have told us that it is not as simple as just prepping her up with drugs and expect her to behave normally. The fact is, she is not normal. The drugs control the symptoms, but they don’t cure the illness!

After all that has happened, I am forced to re-examine myself, to wonder if I have been right in my convictions, if I have been right in my beliefs. My brothers words come back to haunt me. In our argument about my mother he said to me “You are trying to take matters into your own hands, you are trying to take control over the matter.” Duh! Amen! I though, he finally gets it. We need to take control of matters and not leave it to chance! But he continued “When you try to control everything, you end up loosing control.”….. Of course, when he said that I though it was a bowl of crap. I didn’t believe that. If God wanted us to surrender and let things happen in themselves without effort on our part, he wouldn’t have given us a brain, he wouldn’t have given us free will, and we would have no conscious will to act.

But now, when things seem to have taken a step forward, not because I did something, but because I gave up and allowed things to just take their course, I am forced to question the truth of my beliefs… are we just supposed to sing ‘que sera sera, whatever will be will be’? Feeling frustrated, I went to the library, and of all books, I stumbled upon a book by Andrew Matthews entitled Happiness in a Nutshell…… the appearance of the book was a little strange… What are the chances of that? To stumble upon a book about happiness when you least expect it.

So I took cute little book, with its funny illustrations and gave it a read. So many of the things said touched a nerve. Happiness is a daily decision, it seems. I have been unhappy for the past month, because I allowed it to do so. But then again, no one in their right mind could be happy when their mother is sick can they? Pain and suffering are as much a part of life as happiness and joy are. But a few things I read stuck with me, which really forces me to search myself.

When your body hurts, pain reminds you to take a rest, or maybe to change your shoes or find a better way. When your mind hurts, pain reminds you to quit worrying or be more forgiving, or to think a different way.

The universe is always nudging us with gentle signals. When we miss the signals, it nudges us with a sledgehammer. Growth is most painful when we resist it.

Pain, I have suffered this past month; mental anguish and emotional agony. Things happened in a way I had no way of predicting. But what am I supposed to learn from all these? My heart ached, but I still do not see the lesson that’s supposed to come with it. What am I supposed to do about my mother? How should I approach the matter? Should I try to assume control and take matters into my hands the next time it happens? Or should have a freer attitude to the matter and let matters work themselves out, like what my brother believes? Is her medication the true problem? Is it the solution? Isn’t silence also a word? Isn’t inaction also an act? Are we not all the sum of our choice? I have no answers, only lots of questions.

My heart is confused... and the sore throat isnt helping either

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 2:18 pm Comments: 0