Category Archives: Rants

Poe, Sir?

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I am inspired by the morbidness of the blog entries of late of my linkees. And so, here goes a poseur attempt:

So am I going to make a move? Is a move going to displace me? If I am displaced, have I fallen off the ladder? Am I supposed to climb up or down? Do I even know where to go?

I’ll take the stairs instead. It’s easier to sit on stair steps than on a ladder. I’m not an acrobat. I may bend, but I am not trained to fall… gracefully. In which case I think it is best I stay sitting. I might even block people from going up or down the stairs. Why, why must you go up or down? Aren’t you happy where you are?

I sit here, not knowing where to go. Some sit because they’re lazy, or tired. The important thing is, we’re both sitting here on the stairs, yes?

If this is how I shall wilter my life away, I’d wish I was dead. Or a zombie. Being undead would be cool. It’s like playing pool and potting the black ball, but continuing to play anyway. The fun is there, but the meaning is gone. Balls.

Unlike those with the formulas, I wish not to control. I wish as far as to know the outcome. For being in control means knowing the outcome and controlling it. I shall not be that ambitious.

I need feedback. Am I doing well? Am I alright? Sometimes, confidence really is what you need to get the right angle. You’ve got to put your heart and soul in it. You’ve got to bend over, vulnerably. Finally, hit it firmly and don’t withdraw. Worry about misplacing and losing later.

You want everything? I do too. Aren’t we part of everything? Everything is the universal set. By such logic, we are in each others’ set. We are a set. In theory.

*snaps into a Keanu Reeves expression or lack thereof*

This is like totally.

This blog entry was inspired by recent events, but not in any way reflective of anything. (I do hope it’s not misconstrued either…) I just needed to feel better by increasing the general verbosity of my blog.

Beyond, say…

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Destiny’s Child – 8 Days Of Christmas

Ah, the wonders of modern songwriting. Has anybody heard this materialistic song?

You know Christmas was made for the children

Well golly gee they remember their church roots.

I’m so in lo-lo-lo-lo-love
How I love him for his generousity
My man, my man, my baby

Like children, they look forward to Christmas for the presents. Destiny’s Child alright.

On the second day of Christmas my baby gave to me the keys to a CLK Mercedes

Whatever happened to Independent Women Part II, with:

The car I’m driving, I’ve bought it

Oh well, you’d need to buy her a car to keep your backdoor pass. I’m not talking about when she’s on stage, y’know.

Gag Reflex

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I’ve always wondered what’s with people and puking upon the sight of something gross. For example, we were at this upperclass mamak in Bangsar, when two dudes went in and saw faeces in between two urinals! One dude ran out and threw up a bit. In a Jackie Chan movie, a gangster opens a body bag and throws up.

However, the most scary/gruesome of horror/action movies don’t make people throw up in cinemas, right?

Maybe it’s just me. I don’t feel like throwing up. I haven’t vomited in like 10 years or so. I haven’t gotten that wasted.

Maybe it’s my reaction. Personally I think it’s ridiculous that someone’s phone rings during the day, and it’s an unknown number, and he/she goes, “who the f*** is this?” Don’t they have friends who always run out of credit and borrow other friends’ phones?

Or, situations like these:

Me: So right, I was in Midvalley, taking the escalator down to the lower ground floor, when I saw James…
He/she: Who the f*** is James?

If he/she had been remotely patient, I could’ve finished the sentence and said that James was the classmate who I thought just flew away to Australia the day before.

I Queue

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Albert's 135 IQ score

Click on the image to take the test. Don’t steal my GIF file mmkay.

It’s a bit different from the real thing I took a while back; while it is Advanced Progressive Matrices, this one has patterns that don’t just go by row and column. The real thing also only has 5 answers while this has 8. The passing mark here is 148, not 130. The deviation may also differ from the Malaysian one. I can’t remember my Add Maths (A2 was a fluke I swear!)

To some of you, I am not the smartest, and I admit that. Or maybe the great formulas have already been invented.

The site also says that the Intelligence Quotient is 100 X Mental Age / Physical Age. Since the site doesn’t ask for your age, I assume it does not take into account my youth. Therefore, my mental age is 135 X 21 / 100 = 28.35!

Gone.

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Gone.

How I enjoy such melodrama. It is what makes the world less of a perfect sphere.

If that deceiver can gain an audience with you, why not me?

Alas, I am reluctant. I am timid. Shy. Afraid to know.

How I wish I could turn dejavu-ishly violent.

Maybe I was happy knowing that I hated you, but I was just getting used to it. Better that than say talking and then turning the situation into another possible downer. Better than not hating you, blaming myself and getting myself down in the dumps despite having the grandest company in the world.

Besides, you helped inspire me to write angsty, happy-chord songs.

Nobody helped me. Of course I’m the bad guy. She says she listens, but hell that’s all she does. Like God, she knows all, but she does not meddle. Well boohoo, go on, cry me a red river.

I see where it’s going. Being in childish denial does help with self-preservation. Escape is not only easy, it’s the only way out, because fighting will lead to impending doom.

How I wish you were here, so I could just look at you and mouth off without saying anything. By just thinking it. As if that works. My friend preferred it that way.

I came out, done with the philosopher’s position, and I didn’t get to recite my little speech I devised to ease my conscience while easing myself.

You’d never know, but I know you’d never care.

For once, I want to get into an empty elevator and SCREAM, not to be rudely embarrassed by the dude on the next floor asking, “did you scream justnow?”

Maybe I’ll visit college again. It has 11 floors.

Flashback to yesterday, with a real sincere friend:

“I just need somebody to talk to. I won’t actually talk to you; I’ll just… say it in my head. It’s like somehow you’re listening.”
“But… I can’t! Sure, you can transmit on your psychic channel, but I can’t receive it.”
“It doesn’t matter. I just need someone that I feel comfortable with for this mental osmosis.”
“Does it repeat? I mean, do you say the same things to someone each time you tell him in your head?”
“I… don’t know.”

Some part of me wishes to understand. Some part of me doesn’t. Perhaps it’s like how you just wanna bawl your eyes out in a hug and not tell why.

And no, I haven’t heard any Britrock today. 🙂

Maturity

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You know you’re mature when you’ve created an invisible freeform cage of lasers. Oh wait, they’re not lasers. They’re not pure streams of single-wavelength light. They’re unpredictable as waves and rays.

In forgetting my physics theory, I may have stumbled upon the perfect analogy. The bars hold you, but they may not be straight vectors. They may bend. They may diffuse. All you have to do is avoid and contort yourself. Plus points for planting your appendages on colored circles.

Learn to please. Learn to not say something, just because your apparent ignorance or nonchalance will work to your advantage. I respect people who have commanded life such that things will fall into place; it is not luck but pure (unconscious?) deliberation. Hidden behind that political smile is a chess machine, doing tree traversals.

Learn that a fork in the road is not always a choice between good and bad; just bad and worse. Checkmate is bound to happen. In the immortal words of Dewey Finn, just give up.

You can’t sprinkle rainbow smiles on everybody’s faces. In fact, by doing so, following the shape, it would be an upright arch, or a frown. The words that come would be colorful, too!

You’re Not So Boring

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The Internet is evolving to help the average user not seem like a boring person. What do I mean?

Remember how you’d chat on instant messengers, say MSN Messenger, until you’d have run out of things to say other than Hi or Bye? Say bye to those moments for good with online games! No, not evil Ragnarok-type-online-games; I mean games like MSN Solitaire Showdown! When you run out of a topic, it’s the perfect time to call out this side distraction. Ironically, the people who I find myself playing this with are conversation-worthy like Nora and Scherzquin (though it’s obvious we’re doing it for competitive score-keeping.)

Next up: Friendster Quizzes. They’ve made it simpler. Earlier, it was “Describe your ideal romantic date.” Now it’s “Coke or Pepsi?” (I choose 7-Up Ice now by the way.)

Oh and get this: Lipton Iced Tea or Nestea? Interesting. Soon companies shall cash in on this as survey research.

I get so many of these in my bulletin board that I wonder who bothers reading all of them. Heck, I haven’t even joined any Friendster clone because there’s probably going to be more where that came from!

Dammit if you have so much time, write me a testimonial.

And now, I’m seeing forum spammers I know (who usually have nothing to say but “LOL“) getting blogs. Oh joy, let’s all read about how they brushed their teeth this morning.

Oh hell I’m a hypocrite and I just did my first ever quiz. In two parts. Go read it, because I spent so much time cracking wit over it, and then optimizing it to fit in 4000 characters (but it still couldn’t fit despite being 3900 characters due to Friendster bugs) so I broke it into two. (Nope I won’t post it here, you’d have to be my friend to read it!)

Oh hell I’m going to make a blog system for Xfresh. I never announce works in progress until there is any work done on it, so yeah. More avenues for bloggers of average compositional ability. Well, at least it’s free!

P.S. Anybody noticed that layer seven of that quiz I took is missing? I can’t find any bulletin board post with layer seven…

Roll Call

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Alrightey mates, I’ve had some updating to do in my links in my About Me! page. Yes, this is the only time you barnacles shall get front page grande. Here, in no particular order, are updated or added links: Chibimelody, Redphayze, Joeybear, Hyrza, Leech, EC, and LIONEL.blogs.

I went for the Tempered Mental single launch (yes a single with um, 7 tracks). It was at The Jazz Bar, notably so as Syefri pointed out a bass amp bigger than the guitar amps. Flatline was one of the opening bands, and even with their 3 guitars, the bassist still overpowered them, leaving only a little wah through.

Their show rocked, with new stuff we had yet to hear. I shall spare you here and squeeze creative juices on the article.

Anyhoo, the taxi driver I hailed had the windows partly down. Halfway on the journey some conversation like this happened (in Malay though):

He: Do you want to smoke?
Me: No thanks.
He: Why? Quitted or you just never smoked before?
Me: Never smoked before (hesitating to translate…) I’m allergic to the smoke. My uncle used to fog the hall even though his room door was closed. I got this weird coating in my tongue.
He: Ah okay.

That would’ve been a blatant lie of course, since I did just step out of The Jazz Bar in O*range. 😛 Even after a bath and change of clothes the smell still lingered!

I could see the cabbie flinching as a cigarette-deprived addict. Nyahaha. He was easing his throat, with symptoms of a cold. He was rubbing his nose and reaching into his pocket.

I could’ve just told him it was fine with me, but I wanted to see how bad it could get. 🙂

My personal take on smokers? People who smoke are really one of us, but I don’t equate smoking with coolness. They’re not any evil-er than us. Well you can stand in one corner puffing away, but flinching from cigarette withdrawal is not cool. Haha.

Then there’s that thing about it relieving stress. Sure it works, but there are other stress-relievers that don’t give you bloody coughing in the morning. Computer games. Onanism. Making noise on a guitar/drumset/wall/table. Sure, these activities merely distract you from the worries, and you’d still go, “how now?” afterwards, but it’s not like cigarettes help you totally forget either. That, my friends, requires more potent mind-state-inducting chemicals. 😉

Oh, and I finally fixed the filler comments!

Education For The Old

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I was to meet Hannna at PWTC, for some skater exhibition thingy, to pass her something. She was already inside, and to enter, one had to fork out money, so she came out. It was then that she told me the lickable lovable Jamie (or also known as theZEBRA) was inside! Argh, I would’ve paid to pet the zebra. She came, and she didn’t have to lick me to get me wet. I was already soaked in the heavy rain on the way in. She got us two passes to get in, and we bummed around.

It was time to go to Bangsar LRT to collect money (and meet my van-driving-fetching-momma) but alas! Upon reaching the Masjid Jamek PUTRA LRT station, the gates were half-closed. Technical difficulties, they said. Perhaps it was the tendency of clouds to succumb to gravity again and again this week.

Ah well. I headed back to PWTC, again sneaking in with a pass. Jamie drew a zebra on the back of my left paw. (Knowing the confusion between arm and hand, I chose the word paw instead.) Hannna had one, too. We sniffed the permanent marker fumes in joy. Jamie taught one of the few tricks she knew.

Of course, this was no skateboarding exhibition. This was a kids’ educational exhibition.

What’s depressing? When you’re in secondary school, your educational exhibition consists of walking around, with people projecting your futures for you, selling you papers. What are you going to be? A doctor? Lawyer? What pre-university program are you going to take? Will you go overseas or do a twinning program?

Argh all that gibberish.

When you’re in primary school, your educational exhibition is fun! You get to sit down on colorful stools and play with Lego bricks or whatever’s the constructional craze. You get to solve puzzles. Run about the playground! People don’t sell you stuff; instead, they sell your parents encyclopedias and imitation laptops.

(I still didn’t know how a skatepark got a space at the back of the exhibition.)

Cut to Saturday morning!

I was invited to a surprise birthday party on that night itself, when I was in Midvalley. Complications arose soon enough! The inviter was a friend of the girlfriend of the birthday boy. She (the inviter) had two seats. I was one of them. I asked her if I could bring Shaz, since after all, I figured he’d know the birthday boy better. Alas, she wasn’t sure if he could be accomodated into the plan.

So I called Shaz, asking what his plans were. He didn’t get to narrate till his dinnertime before he had to go and said he’d call me back.

I went shopping for his present, with a lengthy discussion over the phone with miss invitee. I tried a few shirts (he was around my size) but none were fitting the tight criteria.

I called Shaz again. Alas! He had cancelled his dinner plans with his buddies to come and have dinner with me at Midvalley!

I called miss invitee, relating my story. “I know the birthday dude through Shaz, so fit him in pleeease

So You’all Want A Single

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Well hello. I didn’t expect so much attention for being Featured Blog, so hello! Yes so I submitted my site so yeah. “Poet and a prophet” is a line from Red Hot Chili Peppers – Give It Away. No man I’m no Bob Marley but I like telling people to woke smeed. Go figure.

I’d love to write something really long, but hey, I’m just filling up to cover my last posting. I shall attempt a mainstream blog post for now.

The SPM results was a bummer. Most people I know got 6-7 A’s! During my time (SPM 2000) my friends and I got 4-5 A’s. People who took it the next year got 1-2 A’s. Perhaps it’s an unjust observation, but I found it ironic. Maybe I just knew some very unacademic people from SPM 2001. Maybe I just knew some very academic people from SPM 2003.

Does it really matter how many A’s you have when you’re applying for a job?

Would it make a difference whether you get 4A’s or 6A’s? I’d think you’d only make some impact if you waltzed in an interview with 12A’s. Of course, the more A’s, the better the chances of you getting a scholarship, but that’s a very subjective political issue.

Really, I can’t stand the thought that grades are all that matter. I know very successful people who have positions of power not because of grades but because of their excellent people skills. Their ability to convince. Remember Dewey Finn of School Of Rock? He sweet-talked his way into getting his way somewhat. Having that skill will get you… loads of free stuff, and a few contacts that matter. (I even wrote a poem about a very unorthodox method of convincing a reluctant date!)

Oh yeah, what do I think of School Of Rock? I liked it! Rock on! Stick it to the man! I walked in, being a classic rock fan and all, expecting to know every musical reference, but alas! That was not the case. I hadn’t listened to The Doors, The Velvet Underground, The Pixies, The Ramones (though I’ve heard of all of them!) A bit contradictory was how Dewey could like punk and heavy metal at the same time. (Well I only liked British classic heavy metal so yeah.)

Still, I could go around telling people how I know the first song Dewey played to Zack was Black Sabbath – Iron Man and not Deep Purple – Smoke On The Water. Right after watching it I walked with a guitar geek all over town to every guitar store, admiring the lickable Gibson SG. Yes, I have an obsession with butterscotch-colored guitars.

Speaking of food, I wanna go try cheese naan because of all that hype. However I always go eat Indian food with friends so they know what to order. My friend who suggested it however didn’t know what it tasted like though so we’d go jakun together over its flavor! However, nobody really knew (or agreed upon) which way to fold a Banana Leaf Rice banana leaf…