Bastards

I'm sure we've all gotten used to this..


They seem to have come up with newer, more exciting ones, though..


What's it going to be next?

"Die, you smoker bitch, die!"

Or the far more terrifying..

"Haha, you're not gonna be able to get it up tonight! No sex for you, stupid boy!"

Whatever happened to ethics?

Of Wasting, Bens & Hantus

Have just gotten home from the time I posted last. Chicken katsu curry at Wagamama's with Ben did not materialise. Which led to a forty eight hour-long wasting session.

It seems that the Irish have developed a fad for fusion Japanese cuisine, which explained the long queue of pale-faced hopefuls waiting to go into Wagamama's. That cost me my chicken katsu curry. Damn you people. Cibai.

Decided to walk much further downtown to Charlie's 3. Charlie's is a chain of fast food/takeout outlets in Dublin. The owner is Malaysian, an Ipoh guy, and almost its whole staff is the former as well. It's always nice eating there, as they have almost proper Malaysian fare. Their Char Koay Teow, Nasi Lemak, and Nasi Ayam are especially worth noting.

The only downside to the place is that they're located very close to Nick & Ron's home, which means that a session at C3 will always be followed by a session at theirs, whether planned or not. So. Since Ben and I have been stuck at home studying (or trying our best to, rather), we decided to drop by for a bit of male bonding.

Big mistake.

Ended up getting really smashed. Drank our current and undoubtedly soon-to-be sorrows away. How smashed?


This smashed.

The picture cracks me up. Ha. Ha. Chit chit!

After a night a restless sleep (punctuated by instances of retching and regurgitation), we decided to go for a movie marathon. XXX2, Guess Who?, The Wedding Date. Dinner followed. Decided then to adjourn to Ben's place as Ron had a sudden Naruto craving. Stayed up the whole night talking cock/watching anime at Ben's.

And thus, forty eight hours of our lives were spent. I hope my dad doesn't find out this is how I spend his hard-earned money. I'm sorry, father. I will help you till the earth, milk the cows, and slaughter the pigs when I'm home for summer.

Our parents are all farmers, see.

That said, there's been confusion in the air about how many Bens are there, and which Ben is which. I will try and uh.. clear up the air.

The Ben whose blog link is to the right is Ben Khor. He tags as Ben/Ben Khor. Ben Khor is currently reading law in Malaysia. Ben Khor went to school with me, and was my student in the sax. I thought him how to blow, he thought me a considerable amount about life. A quick hello to Ben Khor. Hello, Ben Khor!

The Ben who is in Ireland is Ben Lim. He lives down the road from me, and this is how he looks when asleep.


I'm all cracked up again. Ha. Ha. Ben Lim tags as Apt. 6 Pembroke St. and secretly resents Ben Khor for sharing his name. Kidding.

Whoa.. That certainly took awhile.

Am ending now. So long, farewell. The contents of my precious jar of sambal ikan bilis have mysteriously menghilang. I'm on to you, hantu ikan bilis. Stop eating my sambal.

Cheep! Cheep!

Cheep like birds chirping.

This is going to be a happy post. It might well be a totally random and inane post, but still; it will be a happy post.


Spring's here. There's actually sunlight streaming in through the windows. Now, doesn't sunlight make you happy? It does me! Yippee!


I keep my bread in the freezer. It takes me a few weeks to finish a loaf of bread. Yeah baby! Yippee for frozen bread!


JD has been officially voted liquor of the year by the RNSA (Ron Nick Seong Association). Not many people have heard of us, but we are active nonetheless. It'd do you good to join us.


I drink lots of juice and soy milk. My monthly soy milk and juice bill could probably sustain a really tiny, poor, third-world country. Like Singapore. Soy milk reminds me of Faruk. Faruk was once our school captain. That's head boy for you losers not in the know. Once school captain of PFS, now sells soya (lets not forget cincau and mata kucing) in the school canteen. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I miss you, Faruk.


I'm very much in love with my rice cooker. Not only can it cook rice, it has specialised programmes for nasi lemak, quick cook (when you just can't fucking wait for your rice), slow cook (when you want to make soup/stew), porridge, brown rice, and even sushi rice. You can even use it for steamboat! Do I hear gasps of awe and disbelief? Yes! Such a perfect appliance exists! Its nonstick coating is the best in the world! Nothing sticks to it! Thus, I only wash it once a month.


Meet my soft toy. Yes, you read right. I own a soft toy. Say hello to David the gay squirrel. An old friend gave it to me before I came to Dublin, as then, I was beginning/ending all my sentences with the phrase chit chit. You don't understand? For example.. Chit chit, let's go for supper! Or you'd receive an sms from me saying: Chit chit! Why, I hear you puzzled minds? Hell knows. That was my squirrel phase. Hence the birth of David the gay squirrel. As to why David is gay, he's rather aversive of the subject, so be sensitive and don't ask.

Happy as heck I am! I have to go bathe now, as I have a dinner date with Ben at Wagamama's. My chicken katsu curry is waiting for me.

Dark Days

All good has forsaken the world we live in. Pretty much everything has turned to shite.

Think about it. We are pleasantly surprised when service in a restaurant is with a smile, when dialing up a customer service line actually produces results. Gratitude mounts everytime an honest transaction takes places, the rare instances we're not fucked over by salespeople. Meeting random samaritans make our day; crossing paths with a stranger who had actually bothered to smile and greet is met with insane surprise. We go on to gush to everyone who will listen..

"Wahh.. This place ahh, service damn good wei!"

"Weii.. The place actually gives a proper discount, an honest price! Go buy from there-lah next time!"

You get the idea.

But, shouldn't these things be expected? Wishful thinking on my part, for the days we live in are dark. So very dark.

9/11, Columbine, Bali. Fear breeds fear.

Fine, not close enough to home?

I remember reading in The Star not too long ago about a carjacking. KL. Businessman drives top of the line Mercedes; S-Class with fingerprint recognition. Scanning is necessary for ignition. Jacker cuts off businessman's finger, bundles him in the boot. Beats him up, strips him naked, dumps him along the Federal Highway.

A friend of mine witnessed a hold up a while back in KL. Selfless as he is, he tried to intervene. Got stabbed multiple times; was literally inches from death. Wouldn't have known had Alvin not blogged about it.

Penang. A friend of mine parked in a public car park. It was the middle of the day. Upon approaching his BMW, he realises that someone slashed his tyres. Random person who was nearby offered to help remedy the problem. Friend gratefully accepts. The first instant my friend drops his guard, random person jumps in and drives off. On slashed tyres.

And did you know you can pop somebody in Penang for less than a thousand ringgit? I hope I don't piss off the wrong person. Ha. Ha.

Penang. Somebody I know, somebody you probably know. An acquantaince. Rapist. He raped his girlfriend; girlfriend got pregnant. He gave her a few hundred ringgit for an abortion. He left her soon after.

Penang. As again, somebody I know, somebody you most probably know as well. Beats his girlfriend. Often. Girlfriend still stuck with him regardless. Why? Fuck knows. He left her though, as soon as the next shorter skirt/prettier punching bag crossed his path.

No shite, no exaggeration.

Just what the fuck is wrong with us?

I want to believe, as many do, in a greater good. I hear you say I'm looking in all the wrong places. I hear you. But really, how can there be an ultimate plan; a purpose so great it is unknown to us, a bigger picture, if all the pieces that make up the puzzle are so fucked up?

I want to believe, like I once did, but you sure as hell ain't making it easy for me. Are you there? Are you, really?

I don't think so. I think we're all alone. And I don't fucking like it one bit.

Click Click

I'm sick of thinking up titles for posts.. and it's only been a month since I started blogging.

That said, I'm glad I jumped onto the blogwagon. Have been reconnected to a bunch of people I've always regretted disconnecting from. Ha. Ha.

Andrew, it's great to see you again after so long. All homosexual puns aside, talking to you always makes me feel good. Maybe it's because the way you bring me way back to my early years in PFS. Maybe it's something else. It's all good, whatever it is.

Have been, and will be, shut inside my room for the next three weeks or so. Finals are looming. Tension, balls. The fear has hit, and rightfully so.

I'm afraid, balls.

The days are always the same; I wake up, make coffee, start cooking/nuke what I cooked the day before, hit the books, come online to post/check my mail, have a fag or two or ten, and I go to bed. The sheer repetitiveness of my days scare the living shite outta me.

Even when I sleep, I dream fucked up dreams. Hospitals, diseases, car crashes, scary ex-girlfriends, the like. They gang up to fuck the one bit of relief I can afford.

I don't think I handle nonevent well. Which worries me, what will happen when I graduate, when I start working? The profession has never been associated with excitement.

Cibai.

Everything hurts.

Hope the next post will be a happier one.

Malaysian Through & Through

Mandarin and Tamil are soon to be offered as formal, non-compulsory subjects in all national primary schools. Another one of Badawi's cekap moves. Read The Star's scoop on it.

I've always been really proud to be Malaysian. But what really sets us apart? What makes us uniquely Malaysian?

Is it our Manglish, the way we so tastefully and skillfully incorporate curses of at least two languages into our speech? No; Singaporeans & Bruneians speak English in almost identical ways. Is it our ability to speak Malay? No; Indonesians & Bruneians speak Malay (albeit slightly differently, but still..).

No. Tidak.

It is us being able to converse in a minimum of three languages/dialects each. Malay, English, Tamil, Mandarin, Hokkien, Cantonese, Hakka.. I'm sure that every single one of us can speak/understand at least three of the aforementioned.

Being able to curse in any one of them counts too.

Sipek cool don't you think, when the Malays start going off in Mandarin/the Chinese bitch in Tamil/the Indians speak Cantonese? I've always wanted to be able to speak Tamil fluently. My mastery of the language is limited to "Machaa.. Teh Ais Oo Nerr.." and "Deii.. Sareke Jo Karake!"

Trilinguality and beyond comes with limitless benefits. We're able to connect/communicate with a far wider audience. Service is quicker/with a wider smile in restaurants. The examples are countless, but I'm sure you've enjoyed many of the perks that come with being Malaysian.

If you're not Malaysian, fret not. Nobody's perfect.

Being a national of a country that has not one single racial identity, a country that is so bloody diverse it boggles the mind at times, it is important that we not forget our roots. Roots meaning the really really deep ones. China, India.. wherever else.

For many of us, the ability to speak and/or understand our mother tongue is our only connection left to our motherland.

A short shout-out to my ancestors from Fu Jian; Mien kia, wa ko eh hiao kong Hokkien uwa! Malaysian bo Malaysian, wa ko eh ki lu lang!

This is me hoping that Badawi's new directive is implemented well, to the benefit of us all.

Badawi, you the man.

Conclusion Of Api? Api!

Continued from the previous post.

Damn, that makes three trips in two days. I gotta remember to play the Lotto tomorrow. Maybe the M3/RX-8 won't be a dream after all.

It was a false alarm. Obviously. This is getting really repetitive and annoying. Maybe some knackers are messing about. Damn.

Where was I?

Righto. I went inside my room, trying desperately to figure out how I could evacuate my Powerbook and my Denon. Couldn't happen. Decided to just pocket my passport. Proceeded then to fly down the stairs, Forrest Gump style.

The whole building was congregated downstairs by the foyer. I was the last the join them. My housemate was there. My housemate, who didn't bother to rouse me. My housemate, who left me to burn. My housemate, who left me to suffocate.

Fair game to you, housemate, for I'm sure you knew that even if you knocked on my door, you'd just be ignored. True that.

In the time it took to finish a Marlboro Light, the fire brigade arrived. Within five minutes, the alarm was deactivated, and they proclaimed it safe to return to our homes. According to Mr. Fireman, the cause of the alarm was a burning rubber tyre.

Why was there a burning tyre in the building, you ask?

Beats the hell outta me.

Api? Api!

Have just been rudely awakened. By the fire alarm. For the second time in two days. My dreams of late have always ended the same way..

I'm just about to get into my new M3/RX-8, and then it comes..

I'm just about to undress Nicole Kidman, and then her nipples start to sing..

eee-oorr! eee-oorr! eee-oorr!

Fucking loud too, balls.

The building's fire alarm system is linked, meaning as long as any one alarm is tripped, the whole building erupts in song (almost Chidori like). And hell, I mean erupt. There are sirens in every apartment, every hallway, everywhere.

In all my 21 years, no fire alarm has gone off besides when I'm in Dublin. That might well be due to the fact that smoke detectors and shite like that can hardly be found in Malaysia, but I'd like to think that we're not a bunch of stupid ang mohs tripping fire alarms in our free time.

Sidetrack.. The only time an alarm has gone off back home was during the Indonesian quake of '93. Tremors were felt as far away as Penang. I vividly recall it interfering with my daily shit before school, and it ending with my mom grabbing me off the toilet and whisking me down the stairs in a Bart Simpson t-shirt. Only a Bart Simpson t-shirt.

Do the Bartman.

If I remember correcly, there's been four fire scares since I moved here in September 2004. The first two were false alarms, caused by a certain someone someone (come on girl.. jangan blur! masak kena tutup api!). So. When the sirens came on yesterday, I automatically called her to see what she had burnt this time.

"Hoi.."

"It's not me this time, honest!"

"Sure not?"

"Yeah. You better come down, almost everyone is out here. There's a weird smell in the air."

"Okay. Please call me if you see actual flames."

So I went back to bed.

Another ten minutes passed. The ringing kept on insisting.

Curious, I threw on some clothes and went out into the hallway for a look.

Smoke in the hallway. A weird smell was in the air, a smell that brought me back to my Chemistry lab days.

It was then that I started to freak. Just a little, but still.

***
Fucking hell, I don't believe it. The alarm just went off as I'm posting. Will continue.

Puff The Magic Dragon

Well, the dragon might not be all too magical.. But still..

..predisposed by cigarette smoking.. ..clearly exacerbated by cigarette smoke.. ..smoking a proven and definite link..

Tiu. Am reviewing Respiratory Diseases for an upcoming paper. There are at least six hundred sixty six fucking references to smoking and not one of them is positive. Haha. Wishful thinking on my part. But I do remember reading somewhere that small amounts of cigarette smoke promotes angiogenesis. Woohoo.

This shit stresses me out. Freaking scary, balls.

I need a fag to calm my nerves.

Oh well.

Touch Wood

Not that wood, you perverted shit. Am talking about the kind that grows you get from trees.

That aside, I think that I'm rather superstitious, in a Cina sort of way.

Numbers play an important role in Chinese society, belief-wise. Businessmen uncles shell out tens of thousands of ringgit bidding for a nice license plate number, thinking it will avert all accidents and enable their cars to fly, Batmobile-style.

Addresses. A house with a "good" number sells for a higher price, developers knowing full well that Chinese buyers will happily part with thousands more for it. Houses number 14, 24, etc. will most probably go to an Encik Ibrahim or a Mr. Vellu. And fair game at that.

Countless other examples exist, influencing decisions in areas ranging from gambling to gift-giving in the festive months and beyond.

A brief lesson in Cina beliefs. Generally, 8 is the uber Chinese number. It translates to mean prosperity, riches, success.. and all shit positive. 9, 3, 13 (in stark opposition to Western superstition), and 6, among others, are also kickass. The number 4, or anything with a 4 in it is the ultimate no-no.

So.

The number that was given to me when I enrolled into UCD, the number that was to be my student identification forthwith, was a horrible, insanely fucked up number. Not only did it have many 4s in it, but to make matters worse, to undoubtedly purport its evil intent, the 4s were strategically and perfectly arranged with other so-called black numbers. They strung together to say..

Definitely definitely die die.

Cibai.

I remember actually going to the admissions office, requesting a change of the number that I believed was going to cause me to fail all my exams, contract lung disease, testicular cancer and develop homosexual tendencies.

"Yes, can I help you?"

"Is it possible to change my student number?"

"Erm.. I'm sorry but that can't be done."

"Damn. Lemma puki chau cibai!!! Lu ai wa si ah?" (spoken very very softly..)

"Why do you want to change your number?"

"Nevermind then. Thank you." *quickly leaves*

Pai seh, balls.

So I was stuck to it, and will be until 2008. I have yet to develop testicular abnormalities, nor have I failed a paper (touch wood touch wood touch wood), but I have a nagging suspicion that those numbers are fucking up my life in their own discreet Cina ways.

Fast forward to now.

I've just received my examination number (for purposes of seating, etc.) for the coming summer papers. Wahey, pop the Dom, it's a good number! The 5 digits hold hands and sing out, in crystal clear voices, cutting through the evil night..

Definitely prosper, forever and ever.

My night was made. Those words surely counter and nullify the effects of my definitely-definitely-die-die student number, right? That alone gave me enough confidence to stop the studying I was doing and come online to post. Fuck books. I'll get first class honours by just signing my name onto the exam sheet.

I'm rather superstitious, no?

Joy Is..

..Char Koay Teow on a cold Dublin night. Courtesy of Charlie's 3, O'Connell Street. A little bit of home. A forkful of heaven.

..listening to D'Cuzzy - Hokkienstein. Rewind, 2001.. Sitting in Chin Kian's Iswara en route to Chemistry tuition. D'Cuzzy's Dickov in the CD player. "Lu khwa hami lanciau? Lu siong hami lanciau? Wa lan lanciau kia chong mui kong lanciau wa.." Stim stim. Everyone, Penang kias especially, go out and buy the album. Please.

..watching Nicole Kidman in The Interpreter. I can't stress enough how hot I think she is. Hot hot hot. Fucking sizzling. Super-gila-babi-tension-sial-balls. You guys should really go watch the movie. Lost the plot about halfway through as I was staring too hard, trying desperately to store every bit of her visual perfection rolling on the screen. Have to go watch it again. Would gladly give my left testicle to meet her in person. Sorry, Natalie Portman, but you have just been dethroned.

.. not having the fear. Pretending the holidays are already here and that I don't have my finals soon. So far, so damn good.

Happiness is my forte.

Wankers

Just received a picture message from Ron :


"Do you think we can pass?"

They have a paper tomorrow. Renal Biology. I found that to be pretty hard last year.

I often find myself wishing I lived with them. RIght before the year began, Ron's parents bought him an apartment on the North Side. He had space for one tenant. As the saying goes, first come, first served. Nick was always quicker at coming.

I've learnt that luck favours the biggest idiots.

You two should have no problems tomorrow.

Senti

It's been an odd week, with a fair amount of thinking-about-life going on.

Was talking to Alvin a while back, and he said that a blog's a really good way to not forget things. True that.

Don't you get all senti sometimes, reminiscing about the past? Of the many things happening that are truly worth remembering, it's odd how few of them are actually retained in our memories. At least I think so. And of those we actually remember, how accurate are they, really? That's where pictures come in, I suppose.

We should all take more pictures. And we should all blog and post those pictures.

My first year in Dublin is something I really don't want to forget.

I was apprehensive in coming here. I was to be stuck with a bunch of medical students, far away from home, far away from anything and everything I knew. There was to be no refuge, nowhere I could escape to temporarily blank out what was happening should I wish to do so. I had no idea how I'd fit into this soon-to-be life of mine. I was guessing terribly.

But of course, I had no choice.

I've always imagined med students to be real uptight, boring people. You know what I mean.. Like.. sipek nerdy, freaky people. I'm not saying I'm above certain people or that I'm in any way better. I'm definitely fucked up in more ways than average. I was just worried that the people that were to be here would be a different crowd than what I was used to.

Luckily, I was only partially correct.

If it weren't for you guys, my life here would've been hell. So, here it is, 5000 words worth of a 9 month long journey that I'd gladly take again.


Ron's 21st was accompanied by cartons of eggs, flour, ketchup, shaving foam, toothpaste and whatever else we could find.


Ditto. Krish turning 20.


Celebs after finals, days before flying home for summer. Was a night of tequila & flaming sambucas. From left : Han, Me, Sim, Darren, Manny.


Weekly session with Nick over in Belgrove. They had a tv. It was a very old set, with no remote, and it had only 4 channels (one was in Gaelic), but damn.. I miss that tv.


The infamous castle of Apartment 3, Merville. My first true home away from home.

We lived on campus last year, in the student flats. There was no in-house internet, cable, nothing. The only entertainment that could be found was in each other and down the mouth of a bottle. I miss those days. Birthdays were real events. Insane eggings. Getting plastered. Waking up not knowing how you got there.

This year, we've all moved into the city. Mostly everybody has cable tv, broadband.. We don't do much chilling out anymore. Maybe that's the reason this year feels so much shorter.

Giving this post a once-over, I realise how gay it is. Don't give me a hard time.

Damn I need a girlfriend for days like this.

No Pearls, Thank You

Today was supposed to be a fun-filled day of oyster-shucking with Ben. Every Saturday morning a food market is held in Temple Bar. It's all standard ang moh fare but for the oyster bar.

Ah.. oysters. *clouds part biblically, trumpets sound in the background*

Oysters are fantastic. Some guy somewhere once said that shucking raw oysters is the equivalent of oral sex on a woman - less the funky smell germs, of course.

A rough guide to start you on your way :

1. Place raw oyster on upturned palm, with rough outer shell facing inferiorly.
   
2. Dash on generous amounts of Tabasco® sauce.
3. If desired, lemon juice can be added.
4. Open mouth.
5. Deposit.

Oyster shell in hand, a pint of Guinness in the other. An inimitable feeling. As far as I know, the Saturday market's the only place in Dublin you can shuck oysters at. Please enlighten me if any of you know otherwise.

As fantastic as this day was supposed to be, it didn't work out quite to plan. By the time Ben and I woke up, the sun was already well into its descent, and all our shelled, molluscan dreams went down together with it.

So.

The entire day (or what was left of it anyway) was spent watching P.O.T, reading Esquire, and wandering aimlessly online. And now it's already midnight.

I made a silent oath to start hitting the books by 11p.m. The books need(ed) desperate hitting.

I'm hopeless at silent oaths.

Maybe next time they shouldn't be so silent. Maybe I should write it down somewhere : Start studying at 11, dumbass.

11 came. I was suddenly overcome by a desperate need to cut my nails. So I cut them.

A shower came next, as my mother always told me to wash up properly after cutting my nails*. If you didn't, you could get diarrhoea. I'm not a fan of watery stools, so I never question my mother's wisdom on this particular subject. It turned out to be an exceptionally long shower, with me scrubbing every imaginable, scrubabble surface/indent/orifice. Shower done, books ready.

Something was wrong. My room didn't look right. Something was off somehow.

So I moved my study table slightly. And my bed. What started as minute placement adjustments ended as a total rearrangement of every piece of furniture in my room.

Well. That's done.

Books then.

Maybe not-lah. I decided to come online and post.

Discipline has never been one of my many fantastic and well-documented (heh) strengths.

It's a ball-shrinkingly cold night. I wish she was here to keep me warm. I'd definitely study then.

*Mother also says to not cut nails at night. If you do, you're sure to see a ghost. Woohoo.

An Entire Academic Year In A Post

In approximately a month's time, I'll be home.

The 3 precious and long-awaited months of break will be upon me once I'm over and done with my finals.

Thoroughly deserved break? I really don't know.

In stark contrast with my 1st year in Dublin, the one I'm about to complete is a blur. A literal blur. Some mornings, as I stir and unwillingly awake, I sit up in bed and wonder like a sor hai..

Where did the year go?

Is it really December/February/April already?

It has been an endless affair; paper after paper, test after test, exam after exam.

I'm tired as hell, and the end is nowhere in sight.

Medicine.. Not fucking funny at all.

I'm 3 whole years away from graduating, and already I feel utterly spent.

Wait.

It's not as if it'll all be over when I graduate, is it? The real nightmare begins then.. Postgrad, specialisation, whatever else.. Not to mention the actual working world. I hear the senior doctors/consultants really lay it down on us..

Kena sular, sial..

Woohoo.

Somebody please tell me, is there light at the end of this tunnel? I sure as hell can't see anything..

Can You Hear Me, Brother?

I was going through my phonebook last night, tidying it up, deleting contacts I didn't think I needed anymore.

It was towards the end when I came to your name.

It's only been a month since you left all of us. I remember clearly where I was when I received the news. I was stunned. I didn't want to believe.

"Are you fucking sure? This is not something to be kidding about.."

"Yeah man.. Sorry.."

Fuck.

I just saw you over the summer, when I went back to school, visiting band practice. I was driving across the scout den when I saw you. It was a welcome sight; the last time I saw you was in Form 5. It had been 3 years. Too long.

You looked good. You were still fucking strong, bro..

We talked, exchanged phone numbers, and promised to meet up for supper and drinks.

I remember school with you like it was yesterday.

I remember begging you constantly for your motorbike so I could skip school. You rarely relented, but on the days you did, I'd always be late returning it. You'd always just smile and say the same thing.

"Lemma.. I wanna go home liao-lah! Why you so fucking late?"

I remember sitting at the very back of the class with you. Talking cock, you with your scouting, me with my band.

The ubiquitous scout log book on your desk.

I remember June of 2000, when we desperately needed a few more members to qualify for contention in the National Championships in KL.

You were one of the first Jin Khuan and I approached. I remember you agreed almost instantly, not even stopping to ask any questions. Not caring how many hours you were expected to practice, to burn under the sun. And that you did. That we all had to do.

For the next 2 months, you, together with Alvin, Mou Yen & Yih Chaur became honorary band members. As gruelling as it was, you never complained. You stayed in ranks. You sweated with us. You were one of us. And for that we were grateful.

I remember you staying late in the band room, even after practice ended, chilling with Jin Khuan, Eugene and I, helping us clean up and lock up.

You were so committed to our goal, even more so than most of the young ones. I remember you coming in early every morning, sitting in the corner with Jin Khuan, asking him to teach you how to play the euphonium. You struggling with buzzing correctly, hitting the right notes. We didn't ask any of you invites to learn to play the instrument that you were assigned. You were just expected to march in ranks and pretend to play. But still, you learnt to play. And play you certainly did.

By competition time, you could play half of everything we were supposed to.

Did I ever thank you? If I did, I'm sure it was never nearly enough.

I remember staying up late, chilling in the hotel room in KL. Grand Central, Jalan Raja Laut. Good times.

I remember sneaking out for supper in Jalan Chow Kit. Remember we were almost caught by the pak guard?

You left us too quickly. We didn't even meet up once, last summer. My fault. For that I'll always be sorry. Forgive me?

If there's anything at all after this life, I hope you've found the best of it. I hope you're happy and safe where you are.

I hope you can hear me. I hope you're looking down. Look after me from above?

Maybe we'll meet one day. I'll be ready with drinks. We'll make it a night to remember.

You're loved, and never forgotten. Thanks for your friendship.

Rest peacefully.

You're still in my phonebook, brother.

Comments disabled.

The Common Gripe

Have not been home since my last post. Been spending the night(s) at Nick's & Ron's, celebrating Ron's triumphant (hah) return to his much loved Dublin. He always brings back with him crap weather from England. It snowed/hailed/rained sporadically the past 3 days or so, making venturing outdoors an extremely unpleasant experience (unless it was to get more beer). So we stayed in most of the time.

The weekend was lost to acts of :



and sui kow marathons.


(before)


(very shortly after)

Am having difficulty processing my thoughts, as the week was a full-on assault on brain cells. Not too wise an act, as Monday is Renal & Urinary Diseases paper day.

Needless to say, I'm neither too disciplined nor too good at making study plans. But I'm not going to complain. Nope.

Less than 2 days to sift through about 15 lectures.

Why do I never learn? The common gripe.

And a short apa khabar to resident homophobes Sim & Ron, who've been throwing gay blog jokes at me whole weekend long. Fuck you guys. Homophobia is only brought on by the ceaseless albeit hopeless denial of one's true sexual preference. Time to get in touch with your true selves and your undeniable sexual orientation. It's okay to be gay.

:D

I'm starting to be consumed by the fear. Am going to KFC now to stock up enough till Monday morning. Gonna do my laundry, eat my chicken, and lock myself up in my room. Hope it's enough to escape the inevitable. The fear should kick in earlier next time. Dammit.

Till Monday.

The Reincarnation Of Teo Mou Yen

Kanina, you're so much trouble..

But it's great that you're back, really..

Moohaha.

*big smile*

Happiness!

A few possesions of mine that make life here tolerable and the days passable..

They keep me sane; they keep me working.


My faithful Powerbook, a friend and a companion through many dangers. Heh. The black wire/jack on the left hooks up to..



my Denon! I would sleep with the system had it not so many sharp edges.



And last but certainly not least, my weekly order of Four Star. As a Penangite, I was raised to be very critical of what goes into my mouth(!).We are very proud of our local fare, we are an extremely picky bunch. And I'm not kidding when I say with all seriousness that Four Star gives me as much satisfaction as Hokkien Mee in Jelutong in the mornings. I think it'll be the only thing I miss when my time here in Eire is done.

On a sidenote, I think this whole blogging thing is addictive. But it might just be me and my hot hot chicken shit tendencies. Hope this addiction dies down and stabilizes soon. I need to start studying for my finals.

Are You There, God?

On a lighter note, I took an online quiz yesterday : Which religion suits you most?

So, which religion is best for me? Agnosticism was on top of the list (although I don't think it qualifies as a religion), followed by Satanism (...) and Islam.

*clears throat*
Agnosticism is a doctrine which states that certainty about first principles or absolute truth is unattainable and that only perceptual phenomena are objects of exact knowledge. It is a belief that God's existence (or lack thereof) cannot be proven. One argues that even as an agnostic, one can follow a religion, but there cannot be total devotion in presence of such skepticism.

How apt.

Ben's number one was Satanism.

The quiz is here.

Tiu..

Complaining about anything and everything in one's blog has become a subculture, almost.. My sister warned me about not falling into that particular hole (heh.. hole..), and I'm trying hard not to.

But I'm fucking irritated.

Summer holidays here were supposed to begin on the 1st of June. Meaning everything should be over and done with by then. Over and done. Simple. I booked my ticket home just last week. Dublin-Heathrow-Penang, 28th May. Confirmation. Happiness.

At the end of lectures today, there was an announcement. There's to be an oral examination on the 2nd of June.

Damn.

I might be overreacting just a little, as orals are not compulsory examinations. They're only required if you're borderline pass/fail (quite possible for me) or borderline honours/first class (ha.. ha..).

For example : If you're 2 points away from passing a paper, the orals give you a chance to bullshit your way to redemption, and (most importantly) exemption from resits in the summer.

From my calculations (which were obviously wrong), everything, orals included would be over by the 27th May, latest. So 28th was supposed to be a safe date. Not anymore. Bugger.

So how? I can either change my tickets home to early June, cutting short my time home, but ensuring my attendance at orals if need be, or fuck it altogether, and go home right after my exams, forsaking all chance of passing my orals (if required) and cementing the fact that if I fail any papers at all (touch wood), I'd have to come back a month early for summer resits.

Pride says latter, common sense begs for the former.

I can change the Heathrow-Penang flight free of charge as it's with Malaysian Airlines, but not the Dublin-Heathrow one as it's with a local UK airline. Guess the ticket is going to waste. Damn.

Sim was like : "Chill man.. It's all good.. You won't make orals, don't worry!"

Thanks, but that still doesn't solve anything! It doesn't make me feel any better!

Needless to say, I hate it when things don't go my way. But this wasn't a problem of my doing. It's the damn medical office. The lecturer who announced this was also responsible for the smoking ban in all enclosed areas in Ireland (pubs, clubs, restaurants.. anywhere at all). He is the reason why, if you walk around the city, smokers are huddled together outside pubs or restaurants, trying hopelessly to shield against the rain while enjoying a smoke.

So, what'll happen? I have no idea. I'm gonna go watch a movie and try to forget about all this, at least till tomorrow..

I promise you, no more complaining.. At least for a few days.

Of Mothers & Fathers (Mine, This Time)

My family works in a very predictable way. Dad will call, usually on a Friday or a Saturday, after coming home from his mahjong sessions.

***

Dad : Hello son.

Me : Hi.

Dad: How is everything?

Me : Good.

Dad : Got enough money or not?

Me : Yes. Got. You just asked me that last week.

Dad : Okay, your mother wants to speak to you.

Me : ...

Mom : AH BOYYYYYY!

Me : Mommy.

Mom : Got smoke or not? Got drink or not? Stop smoking and drinking la! Doctors don't do that!

Me : Doctors do smoke and drink la, and by the way I'm not a doctor yet.

Mom : Haiyaaaa.. Just stop smoking and drinking la. Not good for you.

Me : Okay mom.

Mom : Got eat or not? Fat or thin liao?

Me : Got eat la. Sometimes hungry also ma.. Fat liao don't worry.

Mom : Good, good. Take care ah! Don't smoke and drink so much!

Me : Okay mom, goodnight.

***

It's always the same conversation, give or take a few words. They never do ask about lectures, exams, results etc. I wonder why sometimes. I'd like to think that they have faith and confidence in me, but I know it's because they expect me to do well, hands down. No argument. No discussion. None. Pressure. I guess not caring is caring, in a weird way..

I like how my family works. Do you?

R.I.P. Mou Mou..

No, he didn't die. He just stopped blogging for good.

Kanina.. You were one of the few responsible for my induction into this makeshift community.

I had to remove your link from the already thin 'Frees' column.

Me gonna go to Perth and kick your ass.

Of Mothers & Fags..

Of all the Malaysians that I know here, only one went home for Easter break. Lucky..
Look what she brought back for me, courtesy of The Duty Free Shop, KLIA..



I don't really give off a good impression, do I? I'm giving up, though. Really. Really.

On a happier note, Ben's mom has gone back to Malaysia! *macho evil laughter*

It's not that I dislike her; she's a fantastic lady and all that, but she's been stealing away my quality time with Ben*! Quality time = hanging out at his place, wasting the night away, watching anime (Konichiwa Naruto-san!), and doing whatever it is we do that make us wasteful, awful children to our parents.

Now that I'm into that, a brief introduction to the people here whom lives I have mercilessly invaded. (To facilitate your easy-reading; now and in future.. I'm great, no?)

1. Ben's from Kuantan, lives down the road from me, has a kick-ass bachelor pad.
2. Nick's from Kota Bharu, drinks, smokes, gambles and talks cock well. Needless to say, we get along great.
3. Ron's from England, but we lovingly refer to him as the Burmese Bitch. He's of Burmese descent. Lives together with Nick.
4. Sim's from KL. Metrosexual. Texts me before every lecture. "Hey, going later?" Without fail. My only classmate among the four.
   

Ron's birthday was on the 2nd of this month. He's only coming back to Dublin tomorrow,even thought classes began yesterday. Lazy bastard. Looking forward to a massive session this weekend.

Class beckons.

*And no, I'm as straight as straight can be.

Oh Kad Kertas Yang Tersayang..

Saya amat bosan. Saya telah duduk di makmal komputer ini selama 5 jam tanpa henti. Pernahkah anda tiba-tiba ingin bertutur/menaip dalam Bahasa Malaysia? Saya tengah mengalami phasa sedemikian, sepertimana yang saya yakin anda telah sedari.

Saya rasa saya ada masalah judi. Tolong jangan salah-faham. Saya bukan stereotaip yang anda fikirkan apabila perkataan-perkataan 'masalah judi' tiba di minda. Saya tidak melepak dalam kasino sepanjang hari.

Ya. Tidak.

Saya hanya berada di sana setengah hari.

Perasaan yang dialami apabila anda bermain blackjack atau poker di dalam kasino adalah sesuatu yang tidak mungkin dijelaskan dengan tepat. Anda perlu mengalaminya untuk faham serba sedikit tentang apa yang cuba saya ceritakan.

Blackjack. Terutamanya apabila bet anda besar sungguh, apabila kad pertama yang diberi merupakan Ace dan anda berharap dan berdoa dengan sekuat-kuat hati, kad seterusnya gambar! gambar! GAMBAR!

Atau apabila bermain poker, dan orang Indonesia di sebelah anda tengah bertutur dengan kawannya, berbincang tentang kandungan kadnya, tidak menyedari bahawa anda faham apa yang mereka sedang perkatakan. Memenangi wang mereka..

Bola memang kecut, perasaan yang unik sekali.

Hanya 2 hari lepas, apabila saya berada di kasino, seorang lelaki Cina (PRC) tengah menangis di tempat merokok dalam kasino. Sedang saya merokok dan menikmati teh panas, dia menangis dengan kuat sekali, dan berkata "Mampuslah, saya tidak ada wang makan dan bayar sewa rumah lagi! Saya hendak mati!" (Tentunya dia bercakap dalam Bahasa Cina, kerana dia tidak tahu bertutur Bahasa Malaysia.)

Kawan saya berkata yang dalam 40 tahun, saya akan menjadi lelaki Cina yang menangis itu.

Bola memang kecut, perasaan yang unik sekali.

Have You Given Anyone UTI?

Am currently digesting 2 hours worth of mind-numbingly boring material. The first lecture was pure shite.. Microbiology.. Which saddens me, cause microB has always been my favourite. It was an hour (seemed a lot longer tho) of bacteria and more bacteria. What a way to kick off the term.

2nd lecture was relatively interesting. Thanks to our phallic members (which account for our long urethras: ~15cm over the females' ~5cm), we are at least 4 times less likely to contract UTI. Saves the male gender a lot of painful pissing and cranberry juice gulping, eh? :)

I hate people who talk during lectures. I mean, why the fuck do you bother to sit in for hours on end if you don't plan to pay attention? Stay home and brush your hair! Play dress up! Anything!

Bitches.

Inauguration

I've often comtemplated putting up a blog, but the dominant side of the (the lazy, wasteful one) has always objected.

I've given him a helluva bitch-slapping, partly due to the fact that he has to give way to the other side (the responsible, smiling one) more often, but mainly because of what he made me do at the casino last nite. The supposed last night out before classes begin (in 27 minutes) quickly turned ugly. Suicidal even. Hiroshima.

Well.. at least it was quick.

Fuck.

A small disclaimer before all this kicks off. I think I'm a pretty vulgar person. Just slightly more that average-lah. And I might/most probably will say something that pisses someone off. So don't flame me if you disagree. Stopping reading will be the wiser option. Bo sukak, mai thak. Faham ka?

Lecture number 1 after 3 weeks of wasting and serious inactivity ie. Easter break is in a few minutes.

I regret not studying. At all.