Teletubies
Since its the weekend, I want to talk about something light.....Here's an article on the
teletubbiesThe thing that really caught my eye was
"Although the show is aimed at children between the ages of one and four, it has been a substantial cult hit with older generations, particularly university students"
Now that sounds deadly. Just imagine, a group of teletubbies cultist... gathering in a room, with TV sets taped onto their bellies, chanting in unison "
Eh-oh... Eh-oh.... Eh-oh...."
And we all thought the case with
Jim Jones was bad. This is just the end of civilization! The teletubbies are slowly brainwashing varsity students to be like 4 year old babies!
Just so you know, I just so happened to watch it this morning. Just 15 minutes was enough to make my mind numb with baby like blankness. I didn't get it. The red tubby was watering the handbag (?) of another tubby and it became bigger, like a plant. Then he(?) watered the items of rest of the tubbies and the same thing happened. And every time, the sun with that baby face kept laughing. What so funny?
Anyway, the sheer non-sense of the show made it harder for me to switch the channel. My mind was screaming "Help, I'm being de-educated, brainwashed into a childlike state" as i started to feel my mind loose all sharpness and ability to think critically. All was left was a state of surreal happiness and bliss...
Why do they have TV's on their bellies? Is it some kind of twisted joke
on human society, which often makes the TV the center of our living
room? Isn't it strange to watch TV, only to see big fat aliens(?) with
TV's on their bellies? How come the fact that their seem completely naked doesnt bother anyone? What gender are they anyway? What will our kids grow up to become? I tell you
what; They'll become tubby cultist, taping TV's to their bellies going "
Eh-oh... Eh-oh.... Eh-oh...."
The teletubbies are evil!
Ok maybe not..
You know how there are ratings for movies? +18 only. R-Rated, PG-Rated etc.... Well... there should be warning and rating for the show "-4 Rated" Only for children below four. Because as in my case, an adult watching the show would effectively reduce them to 4 year old toddlers again. The show treats you like one (since that is the target audience), and watch it often,you become one. No wonder our university student have been doing so badly. They've been watching Teletubbies!
So, have a good weekend and take care ya! Till next time.
P/S:
I suddenly have a notion:
In my earlier post about the Virginia Tech shooting, I proposed that the American Constitution should be amended and the schooling system revised. But now, I think they should just have a compulsory 30 minute TV session of Teletubbies. Yes, they'll leave the room being Tubby cultist and tape TVs to their bellies, but at least they'd be happy, and the world would be a better (albeit bizzare) place to live in.
Celaka punya....
Read this:
http://www.monsterblog.com.my/2007/04/27/road-rage-caught-on-camera/I will tell you first hand that riding a motorcycle in the mean streets of KL is literally a matter of life and death. Though I will stop short of saying this guy smashing the window is justified, I do understand how it feels to be on both sides.
On countless occasions, I have encountered near misses with car while riding my bike, and each and every time I reach my destination I feel thankful to be alive, and with all four limbs. Many times, I am also on the cursing end, swearing that all these car drivers should get their eyes checked, or license revoked, though I have also been guilty of refusing to go on the motorbike lanes, mainly because its such a hassle, and its often flooded with water.
On countless times, especially during traffic jams, cars have a tendency to switch lanes; perpetually thinking the other lane is going faster. The bikers go
in between the car lanes.... thats our motorbike lane. There are often idiot drivers who like to change lanes suddenly, thinking that switching your signal right when you make a sudden turn counts. So, many motorcyclist end up being pancake on the side of cars trying to switch lanes. Everytime I encounter such near misses, I sound my horn, look at the driver with my most menacing face (which is like Mickey Mouse on a bad day) and murmur to myself "Celaka punya car driver."
On the other hand, I get curses from motorcyclist when I am riding the car. Just a few days ago, I encountered a small case of road rage. It was at a turning. There was a motorbike in front of me. I was right behind him as we negotiated the corner. Half way through the bend, he notices me. Startled, he almost looses control of him motorbike, though he didnt fall. There wasn't even an accident. He was just shocked. He then took off his helmet,
while still riding with one hand, and waved the helmet menacingly at me, as if to throw it at my car, while shouting all sorts of taunts at me. I just looked at him, equally surprised (at his stupidity) and confused.
What's the big deal? I said to myself... We didnt even knock! Is it my fault that he is so jumpy? Maybe he could see cars behind him if he put side mirrors on his bike.. which he so obviously did not have, which is an offense by the way. Celaka punya motocyclist........
So it comes full circle. You curse others, you get curse.
P/S: Celaka = damn
Excuse me, can I have a ride, and your car and wallet?
Would you give a lift to a total stranger?
I thought that I was the type that would, until today. It was after lunch. My colleague left his car for me to use for 2 weeks, since he went home to India for a holiday. I was getting into the car, about to leave for KL on an errant for the company when suddenly.
A middle aged man approached me, asking me where I was going. He was wearing regular office wear, with a headset stuck to his ear, and a working bag sling around his shoulders. My first instincts were that he was asking for directions.
Instead he asked me where I was going. I was dumbstruck for a moment. “Pardon me?” I asked. He said his car was in the workshop until Monday, and wanted to thumb a lift. I asked him where he was headed to, and instead, he asked me where I was headed to again. He said he would go wherever I was going. Upon hearing that, an alarm went of in my head. There was a red light flashing in my head and in a split second I replied “Perhaps you should take a taxi. I don’t give rides to strangers.” At that he said, “Its ok then” and turned away and murmured, “I am not going to con you.” It happen so fast I didn’t really have time to think until it was over.
Getting into the car I wondered to myself; Did I just do the right thing by turning away a potential danger, whom despite appearances, could well be keeping a knife in his bag, waiting to point it at me once we are on the road… Or… did I just turn away an honest old man just trying to get a lift?
It troubled me for quite some time. It felt going against my nature to be cold and unkind to someone else. I thought it through. There were 2 things that put me off. First was the fact the he refused to tell me where he was going. Usually, when you want to ask someone for a favour, you come clean and stay honest, and hope that this person will help you in your plight. Instead, he demanded to know where I was going, without first revealing where he wanted to go. ‘I will go wherever your direction is.” That didn’t sound like someone with a proper destination. Secondly, he looked like a working person, with office attire, bag etc, why would he need to hitch a ride from someone? Why can’t he just take any one of the taxies around? It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford one. This was no holiday hitch hiker, and we weren’t in the middle of the desert in Nevada. This was right at the town centre, with an abundance of taxies around. I cannot imagine a normal person preferring to ask for a ride from a stranger than to just catch a cab.
I guess the combination of those things set off an alarm in my head and though I did not put these pieces together yet, my instincts told me something smelt fishy, and it was coming from this man. Better to turn this man down and be labeled a selfish jerk, and be safe, then to stay naïve and overly kind, bring this man into my car and risk robbery or whatever. So I have either been a really bad Samaritan, or have I wisely averted from a potential dangerous situation.
I’m still not sure which one was it.
Oh.. sexy Mr. Wong
Sexiness is attractive, sexiness is appealing. Sexiness is what we all like to have.
I’ve been having this thought in my head for quite some time, but I am still not quite sure how to crystallize what it is. But it goes something like this:
We are all used to sexual stereotypes. To be Caucasian is to have sharp features, well endowed bodies and a natural charm, some with beautiful blue eyes and blond hair. My female cousins grew up wishing they’d one day hook up with a handsome gweilo (caucasian). Heck, even I grew up absolutely adoring caucasian women, probably still do. To be latin, is to be hot and sexy by default. The men are all passionate romantics with moustaches, and a sexy accent. The women are all confident, sexy and not afraid speak their mind. To be black is to have attitude, and a certain coolness, especially with that funny slang which would sound absolutely stupid when any other kind of people try to use it….. can you imagine you chinese neighbour talking like snoop dog? It just sounds totally weird. Not to mention, black men have a reputation of being rather *ahem* large in a certain departments
Then there are Asians, or specifically Orientals, which is what am really try to get at here. To be oriental female is perhaps appealing to people of other colours; mysterious, slender, petite, not overly outspoken but sweet and polite, whats not to like right? It is not uncommon to see say a Chinese girl dating a Caucasian man.
But to be oriental male is just tragic. With maybe a few exceptions here and there, the rest of us have the sexual attractiveness of say… a really handsome mule. Lets face it, the minute you think of oriental men, it’s short, squinty eye and linguistically challenged. Not to mention, oriental men have a reputation of being rather *ahem* ‘short’ in certain departments, and I’m not talking about their height. The oriental male is just not sexy. Foreigners can come to China, Japan, Thailand or even Malaysia, and the men could easily fall for the women here. But sad to say, the men enjoy no such standing. Can you imagine, say a Latin woman coming to Malaysia, then falling in love with some chinese guy? Or a Caucasian woman coming here, and falling in love with Mr. Wong, the noodle seller?
I’m not sure if its our squinty eyes that is to blame. After all, our women have them too, but it doesn’t stop others from being seen as attractive. Or is that issue with *ahem* sausage size? Well, sorry if we weren’t all born with German sausages. Regular sausages taste just as good, and you don’t choke trying to eat it…….you just have to be willing to give it a try…… ( I’ve said too much). Maybe its not physical. Maybe it’s the language and attitude. Perhaps it’s the lack of confidence. Or is it our innate shyness? Lack of sophistication?
I’m not sure if what I said makes any sense, or if you understand what I am trying to convey. I just have this general impression that everybody in this world (including myself) have a hard time trying to imagine oriental men as being sexy. Brad Pitt is sexy. Hugh Grant is sexy, George Clooney is sexy. Is Jackie Chan sexy? Is Jet Li sexy? Is the new UN secretary general sexy? To prove my point, when have you ever seen any international magazine name an oriental male as a sex icon? I don’t have an answer as to why my fellow men just aren’t sexy. There is something missing. When God was making all the peoples of this world, perhaps he forgot to put a few dabs of ‘sexy’ into our mould. Oh well…. I guess we’ll have to just do without it and hope women would still be willing to marry us despite or total lack of sexual attractiveness. On the bright side, if you ever marry an oriental guy, you don’t need to worry about other women going after your man, since there won’t be any!
To go or not to go
All system clear to go off to the UK this coming June, so I'm feeling kind of excited.
Its really strange how things seem to work out. My boss and I have tentatively agreed on the terms of our deal. He provides an interest free loan to me, I work for him for 3 years while repaying the loan, plus all the perks and salary of a regular working. The funny thing is, I dont even know how much I am going to earn when I get back! But judging by what he pays me now, I guess I shouldnt bee to worried or calculative about the matter. Its feels like, the less I make the big deal out of it, the more it would come to me.
But the thing I have really been cracking my brains at it this. Euro trip after my studies; to go or not to go?
My friends are sure as hell wanting to go, and from the looks of it, they have set aside rather generous budgets for it, a budget which I unfortunately lack. As it is, going to UK for 3 months means I'm already living on a shoestring. So buying "Backpacking on a shoestring' by Lonely Planet isn't going to be much help. So, the clear and obvious answer would be a resounding no...
But......
Its a chance of a lifetime.. Its Europe... Its this whole other continent! I get excited about it just from the thought of it. Everyone I have spoken to has asked me to just go... but they talk as if, just by saying it, the money would somehow drop in my lap!
I could afford it, if for 3 months there, I ate nothing but bread and water.. Then I could tour Europe, eating more bread and water..... Sounds like a depressing trip if you ask me.
So....... I just dont know.... Here's the math... I have around 800 British pounds for food and general expenses, after I minus accomodation and tuition fees... for 3 months... Thats about 270 pounds per month or 9 pounds per day to spend. I've never been to Sheffield, but I'm going to take a wild guess that 9 pounds a day is already living on a shoestring!
I think I'm working myself up... My brain is doing all the calculations, and all the logical deductions.... and the conclusion I am consistently getting is that its out of the question. I should just go study, come home, and get on with life. That's my brain talking. But my heart is singing a different tune, one of lovely European evenings, of old world charm, of rich heritage, architecture, people and faces........ just a couple of hundred kilometers away from where I will be.
So near yet so far.
I suppose the problem is that I am undecided. The realities of adulthood and responsibilities are slowly dawning on me.. Bills, debts, work, responsibility.... But being so young, I guess I cant quite get away the romantic notion of a tour around Europe with my university buddies sharing a once in a lifetime opportunity to travel together.
Its strange, because just the other day, taking a long walk, chatting with good'ol mom, she said that she resented the fact that my father made my brother and I grow up so quickly. She said that my father made us grow up faster than she would have liked to, by making us take up responsibilities that weren't ours to shoulder yet. She said that in a way, it ruined out childhood.
I guess there is some truth in it. We did start taking more responsibilities earlier than our peers. I started ironing and doing my own laundry when I was 10, started arranging my own meals when I was 14. Just last month, my brother and I arranged for our place to be rented out. We cleared out the house, repaired it, met the tenant, drafted a contract, worked out the terms and leased the house out for a year. Not something your average 22 year old would do. The house isnt even ours. Its my dads.
Speaking of which, I have not spoken to him over a 2 weeks not. His phones are out, and he is unreachable. Everyone has been trying to call him. The last time I spoke to him he said "Actually, there have been some developments recently that I have been reluctant to tell you boys." It doesnt take a rocket scientist to know that something is going on. Something not good.
And his mysterious absence these 2 weeks only confirms to me that something is brewing down south, and my father is yet again in the thick of things. Privately, I suspect that he has somehow found another woman.... BUt thats just speculations.
Yet another time.....
I think many others have read with horror just what happened recently at Virginia Tech.
I also think that many of us have just about the same reaction.. Disbelief and shock. It seems just like not too long ago, that the Amish school, also in the United States, where some of the victims were killed military style. Then there was the Columbine High school massacre....
Its really shocking, and many questions arise.
How did these boy(s) get guns so easily? I know the issue of gun control has always been a big one in the US, but with cases like this happening almost regularly, its time some of the law makers in the US start debating legislation on gun control, rather than on how much money they should spend on 'Da War On Terror", the sum of which I think exceeds our country's entire budget! Something is seriously wrong, when a 17 year old kid can get a gun when he really wants to, whether its from his fathers closet or other means. The fact that these guns are available is cause for worry. I cant imagine being a parent there. I don't think mom and dad's around the world drop their kid off at school wearing bullet proof vests, but perhaps after this, some parents will, at least in America.
The other thing is, how come so many youngsters there just seem to want to kill each other? No doubt, this wasn't done by your regular hormone charged teen, these shooters were dysfunctional psychologically, but how come there are so many of them? How come there are so many dysfunctional minds in the American schooling system? There is something serious when a nation is busy going out to war, forcing its soldiers to shoot innocent children aboard while at home, their own children are shooting each other.
Lets not talk about the American constitution, about the right to bare arms etc. The fact is, guns are more legally accessible in America than in most nations. Its a double edge sword. You can buy a gun to protect your family and your home. But so can the next man on the street, who might suddenly decides that your shoes are to die for, and bang.........
The long term solution is to seriously study what is really going on with these children and why so many are going down this tragic path, taking innocent lives with them. But it would take years of study and understanding, and by that time, perhaps even more incidences would have occur But in the short to mid term, serious gun control would present a stop gap measure. Its much more difficult to kill 30 people with even a dozen knives, then with 1 single fully loaded handgun.
In Malaysia, the only thing we have to shoot our classmates with is a rubber band. It looks so uncool, but at least you got to shoot them all you want, and everybody goes home with their organs intact.
My heart goes out to the parents and loved ones of those who died.
Woof woof.....
For a person who likes dogs, I wouldn't expect myself to have much bad encounters with them. But that has been my luck since I was a kid.
I grew up being chased by neighbouring dogs while riding my bicycle.
And today, I was suddenly given the chance to relive these childhood memories. Just for some background, ever since I started my current job, I have had to go to some God-forsaken workshop in the middle of nowhere quite often. I don't have any problems being sent out into the field really, its just some of the things that really bug me. Like the rain, and vicious wild dogs.
So there I was again, going through the dirt road, feeling like the next cross country motor racer. My beloved motorbike was now a dirt bike, both in function and in appearance. And out of nowhere, this dog came running out, barking at me, perhaps intent on sinking his teeth into my juicy leg. I love dogs, but only domesticated dogs. Wild dogs, I don't like.
I could feel the blood being drained from my face. I was on 2 wheels, he was on four legs, and the road was rugged, there was no question who could go faster. My hand twisted the accelerator to go faster, my leg came out, in a kicking motion, trying to put some sort of resistance, shockingly (and idiotically) I opened my mouth, and of all things to do, started barking back at the possessed dog.
It feels kind of stupid now, and I'm glad no one was there to see me, but at the time, it felt like anything would do! Eventually, the cursed canine stopped chasing, and danger was averted. Going back to office, I started chucking to myself, thinking how silly it was to bark at the dog. For one, it obviously wouldnt work, second, it probably made the dog chase me even more!
So there it is again, another entry into the chronology of silly things I just can't seem to stop doing. At least this time, I didn't forget to fill petrol.
Can't get you outta my head...
Oh shucks...
I'm thinking of her again. I dont know why, but I just am. Promised myself not to, but its like telling a person not to think of an apple. The word 'not' does not register in our heads.
If you want someone to come on time, dont say "Don't be late." Say "Come early."
Because if you mention late, chances are, they'll more likely to be late.
So how not to think of her?
There are only a few women constantly on my mind. 3 to be exact. My mother, my girlfriend, and her.
2 is company and 3 is a crowd. So I'm trying to eliminate 1, and I guess she'll have to go! But after all these months, that infatuation has not died down, even though I have not seen, met, heard or spoken to her. In fact, it has been a self imposed total disconnection from everything related to her.
But perhaps this self imposed exiled has made my mind wonder off too far and backfired. Instead, I find myself wondering even more about how is she and the temptation is there to pick up the phone and call. Aaarrgh.. the blessings and bane of modern technology. Its like porn on the internet. Its tempting because its so easy to get.
I'm starting to wonder if perhaps she's not as great as I made it out to be. Maybe my heart has been playing games on me. You know how when you like someone, all their flaws dont seem to matter? Or like when you dont like someone, and everything they do just seems to disgust you. So is she this truly amazing girl, or is is my truly blinded heart?
oh well...........
Aquaman in the making
Did u know that our thoughts can literally control the things around us?
I went to a workshop recently (sent by boss), and the speaker made a this revelation to us.
It sounds absurd bud its true. A Dr. Masaru Emoto did this scientific experiment on how our thought projections actually effect the crystal structure of the water. He also took samples of water from all around the world and found that all have different structures according to their origin.
Furthermore, he tried praying over the water, and the crystal structure before and after it were completely different. Words dont do justice to what I am saying, so check it out yourself at
http://www.life-enthusiast.com/twilight/research_emoto.htmAnyway, its nothing short of a miracle. And since our body is realyl 70% water, that implies that we have 70% control of our bodies, just by our thoughts! So think well of yourself, and of those around you. A person will be beautiful if you project them to be.
Being the usual sceptic, I didnt quite buy it. But as suggested by my speaker, I verified the truth on my own. Following what she did when she first came across this fact, I took 2 identical glasses, filled it with water from the same source. One cup I labeled love, the other evil. I told myself, this cup is holy water, this other is bad water, and I let it be for a few hours. Before I went to sleep, I placed them in th freezer.
The next day, I checked, and was amazed by the results. The 'love' water was clear and clean, while the other looked messy inside. I tried in 4 times and each time, the results were the same. Dont take my word for it, try it at home!
But since then, I have told myself that my thoughts control my reality, well at least 70% of the time, so from today onwards, everyday is miracle day!
There no scientific way of explaining it, so I guess its a leap of faith. But since when do you need to understand everything? We all know what magnets are,we dont call them miracles. But despite all the formulae and scientific calculations possible in understanding magnetism, we still cant explain why there is such a thing. We know what it is, and how it works, but we don't understand why it works!
So it goes for our thoughts on water. So this is either so true, or I am starting to develop super-powers, and can control the properties of water. So embrace it, or call me Aquaman!
Remember this famous quote?
"I think; therefore I am. "
Rene Descartes
Good Friday
Its Easter weekend.
Since I'm so busy being the devil throughout the year, I decided that at least for this weekend, I'd be a God fearing good boy for a change and bring my mom and my girlfriend to church.
Just last night, I agreed to go with my girlfriend to the nearby Catholic church. As you may know, I am not catholic, but she is pro-catholic, though neither of us have been baptised yet. But I agreed to go along since I knew being there on Good Friday was important to her. There was a special kind of service specifically for good friday only.
Being totally blind to the catholic ways, it was of course a first time to me. At the beginning of my visits to the church I felt awkward. It was always very solemn, very ceremonious and ritualistic, which in my mind wasn't necessary. I grew up in a Protestant church, and many of them were hip, vibrant and charismatic. The lack of drums in the music, the eerie chanting of the priest and the ever looming presence of Jesus nailed to the cross on the giant gross in the centered were always things that were foreign to me. But of course, after a while, my perception changed. Why do we have to be so ceremonious and ritualistic? What's wrong with the protestant way?
But careful examination of our own lives will show us that ceremonious are a main feature in our lives. All the pompous and grandeur during a ceremony is not the ends itself. They are a milestone in our lives achievements. When we graduate, we attend convocations; we dress in robes, walk up the stage, shake hands with the chancellor and have our photograph taken. When we get married, we hold ceremonies in church, walking down the isle, exchanging rings and declaring our vows in public. But in fact, you really are married when you sign that marriage certificate, not down the isle. At least legally speaking that is. When a person dies, there is always a funeral service for the deceased, and it is at the service and the eulogy that people grief and express their sorrow in public. A person is recognized to be dead when the doctor signs the death certificate, not at the funeral. So why the ceremony?
Ceremonies and rituals are ingrained in our lives, just like the examples we see above. The bigger the ceremony, the more important the occasion. The more important the person, the more people observe the ceremony. The ceremony is a public testament. To show others that something significant has happened or is happening. And so we pay tribute not just by sending out our thoughts and condolences, or by telling or informing, but by physically acts, actually doing something, as a reminder to yourself, and as a sign to others of what is happening.
And so on Friday night, going through the 14 Stations of the Cross for the first time, I asked myself “What am I doing? Why am I doing it?” Why am I kneeling down so many times until my knee hurts? Why are so many others doing the same thing?
The answer came to me; we are honouring the death of Jesus. The Priest said something that made me think; There is meaning and hope in our suffering. Just like how Jesus didn't suffer on the cross for nothing, our own sufferings are not in vain. And though we cannot see the hope, we must persevere. Suffering was not intended by God, but by Man upon man.
Apart from the pain I was feeling in my knees at the time, I was also wondering about the suffering I have been going through recently. Now that it has passed, it didnt seem that bad after all, though at the time it felt like hell. I realise that I had victimized myself. I had taken pity upon myself (again) and shouted to the world "Look just how miserable I am." And in doing so I just attracted more of the same thing.
I knelt down over over 30 times I think, and by the time I went home, they were red and hurting. But I was glad I went. It was hot and stuffy, and I still feel out of place, but somehow, just being a part of the congregation, taking part in this elaborate ceremony made me feel that at least for once, I had done my part in honouring the death of Jesus, not just in thought, but also in action. I guess that is the power of ceremony in our lives.
I will be the first to testify that I am no religious man. I dont usually go on blogging about Jesus and friends, but since it is Easter, I think I will end with this verse I particularly like,
5 But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was upon him,
and by his wounds we are healed.
6 We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
each of us has turned to his own way;
and the LORD has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.
Isaiah 53: 5-6
Happy Easter to you my friend. Love and thanks and may God bless you.
Rapist
Its not everyday you see a grown man break down and cry.
But then again, it's not everyday that a grown man gets sodomized either.
For the greater part of last week, I was out in a workshop, office boy turned slave driver. I was there to make sure 6 Indian labourers were doing their jobs, gluing together sheets of plastic into one giant block, which they had to make 200, each 2 meters long. It was supposed to be my job to ensure these guys received the right 'motivation' to do their job.
Just in case you were starting to jump to conclusions, while others may resort to such methods,I personally do not think sodomizing your workers will increase productivity.
But I did stay back with them until 7pm on a Saturday. After work was done, I dismissed them and came back today morning just to go tidy up and check on some of the work.
And that was when I received the news. Hours earlier at 3a.m., a group of 10 men had broken into the premises. One of the workers there, an Indian national was sleeping outside the office to guard. Just weeks earlier there was a break-in, done by their own security officer. So the rest of the workers were taking shifts to guard the place. The only valuable thing on the premises was stainless steel, and going by market prices, they were worth a lot.
This time around, the ten men entered the premises, tied the poor chap at the hands and legs and gaged him. They ask him for the keys to the office, and when he said he had none, they kicked him and threw him into the mud. They then went on to carry off all the stainless steel they could lay their dirty hands on. We suspect it was an inside job since the thieves seem to know where everything was.
Perhaps they were drunk, perhaps they were gay, or perhaps they just hadn't been laid in a while; but for whatever sick reason, 2 of the men then decided to pull the poor chaps pants down and sodomize him. No one seemed to hear to sound of the dogs barking away, warning the rest of what was happening. It wasn't until hours later did the rest of the workers hear the desperate cries of the guy after the thieves had long gone.
When I got there, the guy had just returned from the hospital. My colleague asked him to explained what happen, and so in Tamil, he started recollecting the events of the morning, how nobody came to his help even when he screamed in pain, how he was kicked and trampled and thrown in the mud. I couldnt understand his language, but the expressions on his face told me more than I needed to know. He was still shocked, and still recovering. He started crying, just like a baby, when he got to the part of the sexual assault, and was overcome with tears and sobs before he could finish his tale.
I was really sorry for the guy. He was from India, uneducated, and came to Malaysia to work as a labourer. He spoke little English, but every morning when I made my way to the factory last week, he would greet me with a cheerful smile and good morning. There he was, sobbing like a baby while his foreman tried to comfort him, telling to toughen up and not act like a baby. With such a traumatic experience, I think at least for now, he is entitled to cry all he needs to. Things can be recovered or compensated, but this cheerful fellow will most likely never be the same again.
There are a lot of sickos in this world. Regardless of gender, it is cruel that rape victims suffer more than their aggressors. If you ask me, rapist should be shot in the balls, castrated and their willys thrown out to wild dogs. But even then, it would never be able to make up for the scars that their victims carry for life. It would never be able to return them to their innocence.
Smile!
Maybe I'm just a big old softie.
My mom does something very special for me. She makes me smile.. ear to ear.
I don't really laugh that easily. In fact, on more than one occasion, I have been accused by my girlfriend of not having enough sense of humour, or the courtesy to just laugh along. Well, I'm sorry if I can't fake laughter very well, especially with silly slapstick jokes.
But the thought came to me today, as I was arriving home from work today. I'm not sure why, but my mother seems to enjoy waiting for me to come home. She would hang around downstairs, walking around, and when I finally come back,she would have a big smile, and wave enthusiastically at me. The people around her would often look around to see what the excitement was about, and their eyes would meet an embarrassed me giving a weak reply with one hand while still on my bike. I'm not sure why she gets so excited at seeing me come home; i was away only 10 hours, but in a way it makes me feel like a little boy being greeted by his mommy. Its both embarrassing and heart warming at the same time. I would shake my head side to side, and smile to myself thinking 'so this is what I missed when growing up; a mother waiting for you at the end of your day.' Its a special feeling. A feeling I never had growing up, but I do now.
Its probably sweeter to me than it is to other people, because I never thought I would ever experience such a feeling. Though in a way we are the ones taking care of her, she too does her part in being a mom. She takes my coat when I get home. She prepares dinner, warms the soup for me, and even waits for me before having dinner. She irons my shirt for me, and mends my torn shirts. She has this in-born maternal instinct to give up her share of food etc to us, asking us to take her share. When she is stable, such as now, she is such a great person to have around.
These are things she does for the both of us brothers. But she waits downstairs specifically for me to come home. I guess being the little boy at heart, I like it, and it makes me feel special and loved. It makes me want to go home earlier, because I know she would be waiting. It warms my heart, and as hard as I suppress it, a smile escapes, and like a dam burst open, it turns into a wide grin, ear to ear.
