Hmmbob. Nada Melancholic

Maurice

2007-11-06T16:19:00.000+09:00

Maurice by E.M Forster is proving to be a an exceptional read.

I don’t usually read classics because I find the plot hard to follow and language quite difficult to understand (and at times too bloody indirect- I mean, if you want to ask someone to come over for tea, why don’t you just say so, instead of commenting on the pretty flowers and birds chirping in the air whilst referring to Greek philosophers?), but decided to give Maurice a chance after reading a brief autobiography on Forster and the plot synopsis. Probably the fact that I read Howard’s End a few years ago and enjoyed it helped as it gave me a rough idea of the author’s style and what to expect.

Maurice brings up so many issues related to identity, desire and ultimately, love. The following quote is altogether too familiar and has hit several notes with me.

When love flies, it is remembered not as love, but as something else.

I guess it was never meant to be easy. Maybe that’s why the rule of the universe is a mystery.

School Festival

2007-11-03T22:22:00.000+09:00

Clouds covered the sky this morning, heavy and menacing. We worried that it would rain, but the weather man on the news last night had foretold the initial overcast and assured us that it would clear as the sun rose. Sure enough, by noon, the clouds dispersed and through the gaps in the sky, we spied patches of blue- it was like staring at the skin of a giant Celt through the gaps in his cotton. You know what they say; if there’s enough blue sky to make a sailor a suit, you can be sure there’ll be good weather ahead.

It was a big day for us, you see, because today was the official weekend for our Bunkasaii (School Festival). The students had been working hard for over a month now, preparing various art projects to be displayed, practicing how to cook takoyaki and their dance moves and guitar tabs, and printing out self-designed postcards to be sold. In the entrance where we take off our shoes before entering the campus, I noticed the giant wooden sign with the school’s mission statement carved carefully into it- this was the third years’ project and because most of the carving had been conducted in doors after school, for a very long time, the classroom had smelt of wood and wood carvings had littered the floor. As I walked into the staff room, I noticed that the handles to the staircase had been pasted with colourful flyers and pictures of students taken throughout the entire preparation period covered the walls. “Ms. Pakker’s laboratory” read the advertisement for the first years’ haunted house and “Rockin’ on Clark” was the official title of the rock band’s performance in the afternoon. Outside, the desks and chairs from classrooms were being arranged into little stalls and shops and gas canisters for cooking were being set up. It was going to be a good day.

The first throng of visitors started arriving at around 10 am. They came in twos and threes, and the occasional fours, all excited about the day. I was in the spaghetti stall, taking orders and boiling pasta with my kids. At one stage, we got so busy, it brought me back to the times when I used to work at the bar on Friday nights- having to move fast and concentrate on exactly what I was doing so that I didn’t mess things up. I always enjoy spending time outside of the classroom with my students. Maybe it’s the fact that I don’t really feel like an adult myself, but we always have so much fun and end up doing crazy things when we hang out. I had promised some of my students that we would go into haunted house together and ended up going in 4 times with them!

I also went to see the students’ art exhibition on the second floor. There was the Moai the students carved out of polystyrene and covered in clay, the painting of the pyramids done by handprints and thumbprints, a picture of the Acropolis made up entirely of toothpicks and a miniature model of the school campus- all of which had been worked on carefully, with lots of love and care.

It’s at times like these, when I get satisfaction out of what I do and realise again why I’m here now. The day ended too soon and it was dark when we walked out of the campus, but I left feeling proud of my kids and my job.

Tokyo baby

2007-11-02T10:13:00.000+09:00

Ouch. Ouch. OUCH.

Hangover. Massive, but quickly dissipating with the steady oncoming of morning. After a bowl of pasta for breakfast, a light nap on the train this morning, a chicken onigiri from the convenience store and a few sips of cold sokenbicha, some rather unnerving clarity has returned. Perhaps it’s the sharp contrast to how I was feeling just a few hours before and how fast this hangover is going away that makes it all so surreal.

I was out last night (and early this morning) with Matt, a friend of a friend who was in Tokyo. He was here for a couple of weeks, keen to try a few different local cuisines for his column in The New York Times. So we arranged to meet up in Shinjuku to have some kaiten sushi. A beer and 10 plates of sushi away (between us, not per head- I couldn’t get my apetite worked up last night) and we were starting to compare notes on our overseas experiences, scary in-laws, the double standardness (if there’s such a word) of people in general and work.

His friend, Jason, joined us at some point in the night, and we started wandering towards Kabukicho. Amidst dodging tall Nigerian bouncers, drunk salarymen, hosts strutting in suits, and even catching a glimpse of the notorious Chinese mafia as they walked down the streets, we stared at the bright neon lights, taking it all in- the seedy red light scene that was the other face of Tokyo. It’s crazy how a city that is already so alive during the day can be even more so at night. As music blasted from several bars and people moved in all directions, we marched on with the promise of alcohol in the air.

After some time just wandering around and looking bars, we came across a few lanes of small pubs located closely to each other. It was picturesque and ethereal, like a fairy tale village out of a child’s picture book. Colourful lights adorned the signs of shop windows and from open doors, we saw that most of the bars could only seat 8 people at the most. We eventually found ourselves in Cabochard, a comfy little place with candles on the counter and Jack Johnson playing in the background.

Every now and then, people surprise you, and I was pleasantly surprised several times last night. I didn’t realise it, but living in a city on my own’s actually made me a bit jaded and tired. Maybe it’s how people are always busy and seem to be rushing off somewhere all the time, but last night showed me that they’re still people underneath it all and when given a chance, they can be nice. I’m glad I found that out.

Localization

2007-10-29T21:04:00.000+09:00

You know you’re pretty much local (and by that I mean Japanese) when:

You crave for raw salmon after a gym work out and just imagine the cold meat with a hint of soy souce and wasabi on top of steaming hot rice.

You eat (horror upon horrors) natto and rice in the morning and consider breaking a raw egg over it.

You wear a suit to work and realise that you just can’t bring yourself to don on the old casual light jacket.

You look at big fat koi swimming round and round in the park pond and the first thing that comes to mind is, “I want to eat sushi”

You think about getting your eyebrows done properly.

Other locals ask you for directions and even try to chat you up at the train station.

You drink green tea in the mornings and have an onigiri as a snack.

A trip to the onsen (public baths) after work is your idea relaxing and plans to go to natural hot springs around the Hakone region becomes your idea heaven.

Hmmmph.

I think I'll really have something to worry about if I start seeing hips and shoulders on the locals here!

Late night reading

2007-10-05T15:35:00.000+09:00

Some combinations are just destined to be fool-proof.

Take the following for example (in order of importance) :

a pack of Oreo cookies
a mug of milk
a good book
a comfy chair to lean back on
blankets

After tossing around in my futon last night (unable to doze off properly) I decided to give up and do some reading. I picked up Gaiman and Pratchett’s Good Omens, which has never failed to make me laugh.

p. 315:

His wound from Nam (Viet Nam) was starting to play up*

*He had slipped and fallen in a hotel shower when he took a holiday there in 1983. Now the mere sight of a bar of yellow soap could send him into near-fatal flashbacks.

Gotta love great books!

On being mature

2007-10-03T15:25:00.000+09:00

On some days, I wish I was a kid again.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t miss being small and having to stand tip toe (or climb up a chair) every time I wanted to reach the cookies, but I wish I could still say “I don’t know” and get away with it. I hate having to know so many things and worrying about things like making sure the bills and rent are paid on time, eating properly (fibre, vitamins, protein, carbohydrates, keeping the calories and cholesterol low), getting enough sleep and actually being responsible.

And lately, I’m starting to hate not offending people. I think I’ve always been polite, but there are days when I wish I could still stick my tongue out at them, yell “Yarghhh! I don’t like you” and run off. I wonder how this whole business of not liking people got so complicated. Why can’t some people just let go, accept the fact that I don’t like them, and no, I’m not interested in keeping in touch.

I guess this post stems mostly from my recently opened Facebook account. I have to admit that I’m surprised myself at how fast it’s grown, and as a result, a lot of people whom I had half-forgotten have been contacting me. Some of them are old friends who’ve moved on to different places in life and hearing from them again is a warm delight. Some are just people who’ve walked different paths, but somehow or other, stumbled back into mine. And when you don’t have a good history with them, you can’t help but wonder what they really want.

A part of you wants to welcome them back into your life with open arms and laughter. But another part of you, darker and primal, something that’s been rotting at the bottom of the ocean floor for eons, old when Atlantis was still young and unpopulated, is unable to do so. And this has always been my bane- forgiving. I hate the fact that I can stay angry for so very long, even after the actual memory of events that transpired has faded and is forgotten. It’s really not about what you did, or they did, but what you felt and still feel. And the fact that a request over Facebook can bug me so much shows how much further I’ve still got to go.

There’s a saying that the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference. Over time, I’ve become indifferent towards some people, but there are still a few out there who know how to push my buttons. I don’t want to be consciously indifferent anymore- I just want to move on and forget. For my sake.

Svefn-G-Englar and Aipotu

2007-10-03T09:52:00.000+09:00

I’m Here Again
Inside You
It’s So Good Staying Here
But I Stay A Short While
I Float Around In Underwater Hibernation
In A Hotel Connected To The Electricity Board And Nourishing
Tyoowoohoo
But The Wait Makes Me Uneasy – I Kick The Fragility Away
And Shout – I Have To Go - Help
Tyoowoohoo
I Explode Out And The Peace Is Gone
Bathed In New Light
I Cry And I Cry - Disconnected
A Ruined Brain Put On Breasts
And Fed By Sleepwalkers

Svefn-G-Englar, by Sigur Ros (the English translation from the original Icelandic).

This is probably the only song you can listen to as you look at Mladen Bizumic’s painting, Aipotu.

The following are excerpts from a report I had written for Aipotu in New Zealand two years ago:

Aipotu: The Rings of Saturn

The painting, Aipotu: The Rings of Saturn, is a sketch done with black acrylic paint and silver acrylic gel on a rectangular board. The whole painting is black, with a rough sketch of how the artist, Mladen Bizumic, perceived the environment of Stewart Island’s desolate Paterson Inlet to be. Here it should be noted that the artist had traveled to Paterson Inlet prior to painting Aipotu and the painting was thus a result of his trip there. Bizumic experiments with a form of art which he refers to as ‘psychogeographies’, or the “psychological and cultural experience of place” (City Gallery Wellington, para 4, n.d.). Therefore, unlike usual paintings of sceneries and views (which just portray how the artist sees things or an environment that the artist had managed to capture on canvas), Aipotu deals with the issue of how an environment is perceived and how the surroundings of an individual make him or her feel. Aipotu brings to light the various emotions such as awe and fear that can be triggered by one’s environment as well. In other words, Aipotu reveals the environment that the artist had experienced, rather than the environment that he had merely observed or just seen.

At first glance, Aipotu may give the viewer the impression that he or she is looking at a map painted in black with the physical boundaries carefully penned out in silver ink. Another noticeable aspect of the painting is the various notes or messages scribbled all over it. Upon closer observation, the viewer will notice certain details such as particular locations that are highlighted by the artist with arrows and what the messages actually read out. For example, a particular message that stood out to me was the following:

The truth emerges only very slowly…

The part of vision, the value of this investigation of the past of what is lost is crucial to our present sense of (fucked-up) identity.

The above quote from Aipotu criticizes modern day society indirectly and questions how we perceive things and deal with our own perceptions. The quote also poses some riveting questions such as where society is headed and the importance having a clear idea of self-identity.

(end of excerpt)

Humm to myself- Eg Græt Og Eg Græt – Aftengdur

Generation i-Pod

2007-10-03T09:28:00.000+09:00

Now, that’s something you don’t see everyday, I thought to myself as I sat down in the train this morning. (Later, however, I corrected myself- this is something that I’m starting to see every day and everywhere I go.)

A few seats across mine, was a middle-aged salary man, his earphones plugged in, thumbing away on his sleek, black PSP. He was wearing glasses and on the fourth finger of his left hand was a simple wedding band. He looked like the kind of man who was willing to push in a couple of extra hours for overtime at the office, but would definitely not miss his son’s soccer game or his daughter’s piano recital. There were lines on his forehead; marks from the years etched by life. A family man- the kind who would bring words like safe, predictable and stable to your mind.

So… what was he doing with the PSP? Or for that matter, why did he even have one? Under his left arm was tucked a simple little bag, and one could spy a green tupperware in it- his lunch.

The entire sight of it all- a cotton carry bag under one arm while his hands operated a PSP was comical to me. A clash of the homely and technical.

That’s when it dawned to me; we’re the i-Pod generation. We have at our hands the latest of technology: 3 G cell phones that are connected to the internet (with GPS!), MP3 devices that seem to shrink continuously every time we look at them (who uses a walkman these days? And portable CD players are on their way out too), lap tops, digital cameras… you name it.

Thinking about things like this always brings to mind scenes from futuristic sci-fi films like The Matrix, where we walk out of fast moving trains dressed in black, hair slick and pulled back, with an array of little electronic gadgets tucked in our coat sleeves and pockets.

Only, the future is here. Looking at the man, the lines on his forehead screwed into a mass of broken wrinkles, intent he was over the game on his PSP, I realised that we’re probably going to be like that in 20 years- sitting quietly on the bus or train, or maybe even at home, as we adjust the volume on some musical device and position the head phones ever so slightly on our heads. Maybe even our own children would look at us (as I looked at the man on the train today) and actually be amazed at the fact that we still give a damn and try to keep up.

Because we are the i-Pod generation.

Keropok Lekor

2007-09-23T21:52:00.000+09:00

The following are what you need to make keropok lekor:

1 kg of fish (ikan parang or ikan kembong)
500 g of sago flour
salt to taste (garam secukup rasa)
125 ml of water
some ice cubes
1 or 2 pandan leaves

I read a bit about the instructions on how to make keropok lekor and realised that it was beyond me. It wasn't the fact that I had to clean the fish or mince the meat up properly- it's just that I can't even find ikan parang or ikan kembong here. I looked up for their English names online, only to find some scientific gibberish.

And after looking at the pictures of the fish, I realised that I've never seen those fish before in Japanese supermarkets. In my mind, I rationalised that the Japanese waters are too cold for our tropical fish to swim in. Why leave the Malaysian waters (where it's nice and warm) for the ocean here, even if the oceans here are emptier, due to the fact that all the whales have been hunted and mashed into cans?

A part of me was sorely tempted to buy some salmon or tuna and try with those, but it seemed like an extravagent way to waste fish (what if it turns out horrible?).

Sigh. I guess it's a good thing that I've never seen sago in the international stores here. Come to think of it, I don't think I even know what it is. And I doubt there's any pandan bushes growing in Tokyo.

These are the times when I miss Malaysian food. Gah.

Weekend. Get here already.

2007-09-21T15:53:00.000+09:00

So I blinked and it’s now Friday. Gah. Time does go by faster when you’re busy.

At the moment, my plans for the weekend are still a bit unclear, but the mists are receding fast. I’ve got a study session planned on Saturday morning, and the evening might come with the promise of music and alcohol to soothe my nerves.

Sunday looms before bit vague, but I’m sensing a catch up over coffee with Monyet and maybe, just maybe dinner. Oooh. I should make a point to dash to the bookstore when I can- I need to find something new to read.

I can’t wait for the weekend to start!

Why I teach

2007-09-21T15:37:00.000+09:00

Buncil and I were talking online recently, when she asked, “How come you never complain about work?” I paused momentarily in my head at that question. A part of me actually wondered, Do I really not complain about work? Cause I’m pretty sure that on more than one occasion, I’d commented “same shit, different day” when asked about how my day was. During that lapse though, I realised that I usually don’t- it’s probably because most of the time, I don’t really have anything bad to say about what I do.

I guess it’s mostly because I like what I do- teaching. It’s not the best of jobs, and there are its challenges, but I like working with students and helping them understand whatever it is that I’m trying to get across. The fact that I can identify so much with my students helps too. Even though I’ve been out of high school for quite a while now, I remember just too clearly how frustrating and overwhelming it all was. Sometimes, I glimpse of my former self in students, which is a bit uncanny. There’s this look, you know, of anguish and not understanding, which I know too well. I can’t help but wonder if my kids have trouble sleeping at night or how much they worry about the future too. Being where I am now and knowing the things I do, I just want to tell them that it’s okay for them not to know. It’s that period of confusion where you’re not supposed to know, because if you did, life wouldn’t be worth living. And the (funny) thing with life is that you never know what’s going to happen- there’s just so little that you can actually plan.

Teaching does have its rewards. Mai and I were talking in the staff room yesterday, and she said when she mentioned jokingly in her class that she was considering quitting because the students were too naughty, a girl actually yelled out “Takeuchi-sensei, you can’t quit! It’s not fair on Anis-sensei if you leave him all alone here!” Mai later admitted that she was a bit annoyed none of the students tried to persuade her to stay on as well.

There are also those few weeks from last term when we had 2 resident kittens on campus. A couple of girls had found the kittens in a cardboard box by the roadside on their way home and ended up bringing them back to school. Being unable to say no to our students (or to tell them to take them back to where they found the kittens and leave them there, because that would be wrong and irresponsible), we ended up keeping the kittens in the school’s sanatorium for a few weeks until we found them proper homes. That period was probably one of the most memorable in my teaching experience so far, seeing the students rush off during Break to play with the kittens and having to stop them from sneaking the kittens into class (“But we want them to learn English too!”).

And just today, a group of students came in, saying that they saw a dead cat on the street on their way to school and wanted to bury it properly. What surprised me the most was just the simple fact that they wanted to give it a proper burial. It was just a stray that they saw lying dead on the pathway, something that we’d usually just overlook, pretend we never saw and leave for others to take care of. Yamazaki-sensei ended up going with them to pick up the carcass before the morning homeroom and finding a spot to burry the poor thing in (they had even taken it to the local shrine just minutes away from the school, but were told to go away by the monks there).

All these things assure me that I don’t have to worry about my students. Never mind that some of them are dyslexic and have ADD or are simply unmotivated to learn- they’ve got what it takes to live in this world. I think that’s reason enough for me not to groan and complain too.

The Light-Switch-Warehouse-Feeling

2007-09-18T16:11:00.000+09:00

Every now and then, when things are down, something clicks and snaps into place in my head. It’s a mystery how it works really, but in my mind, I always hear the sound of a light switch being flicked on, and before I know it, all the lights overhead are on; white and glaring. It’s always the same scene; me getting up from the warehouse floor, staring at the immense white space that simply is. There is no beginning and so far, there appears to be no end to the warehouse. I’m right smack in the middle of an empty, large warehouse, filled with this sense of being and here and now. It’s kinda like a scene from the X-Files where Mulder and Scully discover one of those top secret labs or hangers in Area 51 and you feel that light anticipation building into a heavier sense of dawning and realisation.

And just this morning, I’ve discovered the perfect theme song to accompany this light-switch-warehouse-feeling. This emotion had burst within me suddenly at around 11 pm last night when I reached some sort of snapping point and realised that I didn’t really care anymore. It’s probably due to the state of mind that I’ve been in recently, but right now, the song Hole in the head by the Sugababes encapsulates how I feel.

The following snippets from the song are by far my favourite ones.

Seven hours since you went away
Eleven coffees,Rickki Lake on play,
But late at night when I'm feeling blue,
I'd sell my ass before I think of you.

Eleven hours on a brand new day,
I'm getting ready to go out and play
It's late at night, I'm caught in a groove,
I'd kiss my ass before I'm feeling blue.

Heh. Something tells me I need to hit the clubs this weekend. It’s time for me to go out and cause some mischief, before the stress of being back at work takes its toll on me.

Fiction.doc

2007-09-17T20:41:00.000+09:00

The young man sat at in front of his laptop and paused for a moment. Slowly, he scrolled his mouse and opened the Journals folder.

Scanning through the various documents and project ideas, he found the one he had been looking for. MiscRant.doc

He clicked on it twice and started typing once it opened.

Just for the record, I hate being in love. I hate how I literally stop in my everyday to think of you. To let thoughts of you run through my mind, like scenes from a flickering black and white montage. A beautiful shot of you walking in the rain with drops of water stuck in your hair and my hand wiping them away gently. That look in your face as the train doors shut and we're pulled away from each other. Holding hands in the darkened cinema, making love in the dimmed room later.

He lifted his mug and sipped from some coffee.

But above all, I hate how I humble myself, almost abase myself, before you. How I become incredibly considerate and place you before myself. How I become incapable of functioning through my day without a call from you, or even a simple, goddamn text message. How I wonder if you've eaten, and if you have, what it was and whether or not you had enough sleep last night.

Love renders me-

Enough. That was enough. Whatever it was, the moment had passed and he had let out what had been disturbing him the past couple of days.

He saved and closed the document. He wasn't sure if he'd ever use it in any of his projects, but then again, he never knew.

Just then, an email came through and he got back to work.

Eeeek- say what?

2007-09-16T23:12:00.001+09:00

After much thinking and consideration, I've decided to post the following quotes. They've been gathered in no chronological order and, honestly, are things I've said which have been met (not surprisingly) with laughter (well-meant ones too! Ha!).

So for all of you who weren't there, here's a recap on the crazy things Anis has been saying.

***

(After handing out beers, peaches and nuts from a cotton shopping bag at Pete's flat during the very first New Zealand Rugby World Cup match)

Joe: Ooooh! Santa's here!

Me: See? Everyone likes Little Muslim Santa.

***

(During a MSN conversation with Yupi- we were talking about what people do while making out- don't ask)

Yupi: So, cuddling is like peluk-peluk, right?

Me: Yeah! And if all goes well, it'll lead to cium-cium!

Yupi: LOL.

***

(While talking about music)

Pete: Bro, have you heard of (*insert musician's name*)

Me: Is he the guy that was born on boat?

Pete: (a look of utter disbelief and starts laughing).

***

(While helping Joe move apartments. Pete and Joe were lifting an old, dirty, lime green sofa that had seen better days and enjoyed good times)

Joe: Give us a hand, bro.

Me: It's ok. I'll stay here. I can get STDs just looking at the couch.

Joe: (jaw drops open)

Pete: (bursts out laughing)

***

(While talking about old friends from high school with Joyce. This is a direct quote from Joyce's blog too)

Joyce: You remember Jonathan from high school?

Me: Yeah!

Joyce: He's a pilot now. The last time we met up, he gave me a ride home.

Me: In a plane?!

Joyce: (elbows fail and drops head to the floor).

***

(While talking about movies)

Aki: But you've already asked me what my favourite movie is.

Me: I have?

Aki: Yeah. It's Titanic.

Me: Oh. No wonder I forgot.

***

(While discussing random ways of finding out a co-worker's age)

Me: Why can't we do it? It would be so simple. All we have to do is show up with a cake that says "Happy 21st!" in the morning of any day and we can all start singing Happy Birthday really loudly, you know, just to overwhelm her. After we're done, she'll blush and say, 'But it's not my birthday and I'm not 21-' and we'll just cut her and say 'Oh! But you look so young! How old are you actually, then?' and she'll tell us.

Hiroki: (a What-the-Fuck look on his face) Life is not that simple, Anis.

***

(Towards the end of the day at work. It had been a long day)

Pete: Bitty. Aa-aa-ahh!

Me: Computer says no...

(Note: This is an insider's joke. Fans of 'Little Britain' will get it though).

***

(While preparing Christmas dinner in 2005. Sigh. That was a looooong time ago, but I still remember this)

Me: Do you want some white chocolate, Savee?

Savitha: No. I don't like white chocolate! I only like dark ones (she was being obstinate on purpose). (proceeds to chop carrots).

Savitha: Why are all these carrots so long? I don't like long ones!

Me: You know, it would be so ironic if you ended up marrying a white guy with a 12 inch dick.

Savitha: (jaw drops open) Don't jinx me, ok!

Honestly, I can't believe half the things I've said as well. Life would have been much simpler for me if I was blonde (would flick hair aside, but it's too short and spiky).

On Solitude

2007-09-16T23:01:00.000+09:00

If the concept solitude were to be an anthropomorphic projection, she’d be a woman. She’d have fair skin the colour of snow and white rose petals, fallen in some dark corner of a forgotten room. Her hair would be raven’s wings and the hush of a moonless sky. She’d have a small mouth, the kind you imagine puckering over sour wine and bitter stones of fruits, rather than relishing the taste of nectar and honey. She’d be dressed in the garments of grey, the colour of dust, embroidered with cobwebs, and the single jewel that adorn her slender neck would be light gathered at the death of stars.

She’d find you in hours and places where you least expect her. At first, as she draws you in for her kiss, you will find her cold, but upon realising this, she will raise her small hands to rub your back and feel your head to keep you warm. When you break away from her kiss, she will raise a hand to her mouth and blow you a kiss, as if to mock you, but you will find yourself hot and fevered- you will never know if it was the intimacy of the initial embrace or annoyance at her insolence that caused you to become flushed.

Your affair with her would be like the ebb of tides and riding boats in a storm. Every moment is choppy and unpredictable- you know not if she’ll embrace you at one moment or slap you. Or when it began and when it would end, for that matter. When she does strike you, you will fall, feeling alone and one in all the world, for her other aspect is melancholy. But when she smiles, your heart will tear at the sight of it and all the broken pieces will be filled with love and hope, for her third face is solace.

But above all, she teaches you to be on your own. Ever the wolf mother who threw her cubs out into the winter storm, she teaches you to find your own strength where you least expect it to be and survive…

Reasons (why the blog hasn't been updated)

2007-08-31T11:37:00.000+09:00

Been in and out of the country. I was in New Zealand for work at the beginning of August, and I just didn’t have the time to collect my thoughts calmly to post entries while there. Overall, it was a great trip, and I got to see friends whom I haven’t seen in about a year.

Taro and Joyce came over to Tokyo, and I hung out with them pretty much every day when they were here. I haven’t seen them for about 3-4 years, and I gotta say that it was really great to catch up with them. They’ve both gone back to their respective countries now, and I miss them heaps :( Thanks so much for coming over guys!)

It’s summer- you can’t expect me to sit at home and blog. No sir, when the sun’s high in the sky, Anis is out somewhere with his tanning lotion, sunnies and jandals.

I’ve been going out. A lot. There’s been several summer festivals around Tokyo, and I went to check them out. There was also the Asakusa Salsa Festival recently, and I spent the entire day there with Min, staring at dancers and performers parading pass, scantily clad in thongs and outrageous costumes with lots of glitter and feathers. I still remember saying to Min, “Make sure you hold my arm, cause I might just jump over and start grabbing them!” To top up all the times I went out, I also did a couple of all-niters; it’s fun while you’re out, but when you get back home (assuming you don’t fall asleep on the first morning train home and get lost or get off at the wrong station) you just crash and spend the entire day at home. In your futon. Quietly. With lots of water. And the curtains drawn.

Summer Camps. There were two of them, both equally fun and entertaining. The first one was in Kansai and the second was in Tokyo. During camp, I realised that I can’t take the rural environment and lack of city lights anymore. Well, not for a long period of time anyways. Pete and I got freaked out by this ugly, huge as toad on the forest track (it was just sitting there! Glaring at us with it’s gimlet like eyes…) and in the middle of the night, I ended up spraying some flying insect which made the unfortunate decision of landing on our cabin porch, all the while yelling “Die, motherfucker, die!” We had had some drinks by that time, so I guess it’s kinda understandable (*winks*).

So yeah… that’s about it. I should be falling back into my regular routine soon, so hopefully, I’ll be able to blog a bit more frequently then.

Wolf cubs, maidens and Malaysia

2007-08-31T10:34:00.001+09:00

We forget how young we still are. We talk about how far we’ve come, how much we’ve accomplished and all the wonders we’ve achieved, but at heart, we’re still young; inexperienced and flighty. A cub longing to run off with the older wolves in the pack. We’re not hanging at the wolf-mother’s teat anymore. We’ve let go, and started taking the first few steps on our own- we even ventured out of the den a few times, but we’re not quite ready to stay out for longer periods of time to chase and hunt.

In my mind, our nation is the young maid, pausing at the threshold of the bedroom on her wedding night. She knows that the minute she steps in, nothing will ever be the same again. She longs to let go of it all, but at the same time, she’s unreasonably sentimental and a tad afraid. Who’d blame her though? She’s got every reason to worry. Her body is her’s alone, and that right is sacred.

Looking back at our record as a nation, I think we’ve done incredibly well. Surpassed expectations, as some might say. We’ve lowered poverty levels and somehow managed to experiment in almost every available sector possible. We seem to have a tendency of making ‘The World’s Largest/ Tallest/ Longest (insert superlative)’ objects. We still make headlines globaly every now and then (most which make ex-pats groan) about comments made by MPs on gender and fixing the leaking roof of our Parliament building when Parliament was actually in session. Racial unity is a big, sensitive issue, and at times it’s been sorely tested (1969, several spates in the early 2000s), but somehow, we’ve managed to hold on. I say this at fear of sounding foolishly optimistic, but deep down, I know that we’re going to be ok as a nation, because we’re still too young. We just need time (and stop comparing ourselves to other so-called developed countries- jeez, talk about peer pressure).

I’m not back in Malaysia for our 50 th Independence Day, but my heart goes out to it. Happy Birthday Malaysia. We’ve come a long way, and we’re going to go even further.

Affinity

2007-07-21T01:05:00.000+09:00

Tonight could have been a scene from a movie. Don’t ask me what genre though, for I’m still divided about it, but I guess I can safely say it’s a cross between comedy and drama.

We were at an Italian restaurant, tired after flying back to Tokyo from Okayama, sipping our drinks and waiting for our orders to arrive. We had spent the earlier half hour walking from one restaurant to another, looking for a place that was still serving food and would not close for another good hour or so. We had even walked into one restaurant and sat for a couple of minutes, surveying the menu and talking to the waitress before realising that we’d have to pay so much for the so little we intended to have- low appetites due to stomachs still queasy from the turbulent flight and it being a buffet-all-you-can-eat restaurant. We apologised and walked out quickly with our luggage after that.

So we finally stumbled into Pronto’s, after carefully dodging Subway and the weird Indian Curry place. We sat down, went over the menu and ordered. As we waited for the food to arrive, we fell into our common routine; talking about anything and everything that comes into our minds. From trivial things like how the seminar went during the day to teasing another colleague about his Asian fetish whilst drunk.

I think I said: Never would have I imagined us being here together, four years ago, after looking outside at the crowds of people walking in Kawasaki. We’ve often talked about it, our affinity with each other, and it’s true, it’s not something you can have with anyone. I don’t think it could have been with anyone else either, if you weren’t here and realised again how incredibly close we’ve become over time.

I will always remember all the great conversations we’ve had, but the one about love that afternoon in Starbucks last year will always stick out in my mind.

“The day I stopped believing in love, life will become empty and meaningless”

“I don’t care if I never find it, I never want to stop believing it”

I love you long time, Monyet Chomel.

Beautiful Life

2007-07-17T19:57:00.000+09:00

You have a beautiful life, I thought as I viewed the pictures on your Friendster account this morning.

I was logging onto the networking service when I saw your picture displayed on the Featured Pictures section. It was a picture of you and your baby daughter and something about it caught my attention. Curious, I dragged my cursor to it and clicked.

You were with your baby girl in the swimming pool. Although it was a close up photograph of the two of you, I could see that the pool must have been crowded- I could tell by the waves that came up to your chest and someone’s elbow poking into the picture. But the look in your eyes as you held your baby girl with one arm while the other wielded a pink floatation device was that of quiet and solace. It was as if there was no one else in the world, but the two of you. From the way the photo caught that moment; the waves frozen and unmoving, the bright pool toy hanging in mid air, it was as if time truly stopped for the two of you there and then. That moment is immortalised. The grains of an hourglass have stopped trickling and hang in the hollow pass between the two bulbs for the two of you.

It could have been a scene from an ancient creationary myth. An elder god holding the infant goddess in his left arm while his free arm swung the sun, stars and moons into existence with the magical raiment of a forgotten goddess. The waters of chaos receding fast, but still choppy and turbulent as they pushed themselves towards you for one last feeble attack to stop the dawn of your age. The elbow poking into the picture could have been the arm of some lower beast- a last warrior of the dark age of the world- sent to stop your reign and light from ever being. But as in all myths, we know that the dark will pass and never win. For there is always valour and those who love the light.

A part of me was tempted to send you a message, to say how happy I was for you though I know you not and share these feelings, but I thought the better of it. The picture and life behind it is that of the two of you alone, and is special to me because I’m not part of it.

To acknowledge it would be to strip away the magic and awe, and some things are best left untouched.

Earthquake!

2007-07-16T10:25:00.000+09:00

Sitting at home as I typed away on my laptop, I felt the entire the floor beneath me move and heard the glass on the sliding doors rattle and shake- earthquake!

I can’t admit that I freaked out though. It was more of, ‘Aye? Another one?’ cause we do have frequent minor earthquakes at night. Only this time, it was a bit stronger than the previous ones.

I stood up, wondering when it would be over and if I should plug out my electrical appliances, but decided to sit down again because the motion was making me giddy and nauseous.

Then, it was over.

But I still feel sea-sick. Jeez… maybe I shouldn’t have eaten so much for breakfast after all!

Rain

2007-07-15T10:03:00.000+09:00

Rain had been falling steadily since yesterday morning. It was all grey and cloudy when I woke up and on my windows were thin streams of water, trickling steadily away. I stared at them for a little while after I had crept out of my futon, feeling rather light-headed and finding the waking hours surreal.

I’ve always been fascinated by raindrops sliding on glass ever since I was little, and even now, I find that there’s something captivating about them. They’ve got an ethereal quality to them; the way they skid across the glass, some fast like shooting stars, and some slow and eddying, like fire flies. They fall first in minute splashes of water and collect in pools at odd ends of the window. They sometimes seem to move towards one another, as if every drop is part of a single whole; each calling, come, come to me and let us be one again, as our mother the sea…and when they merge, it’s almost as if they’re pulling each other together, choking and grasping like lovers in the heat of passion. When they become too heavy however, they suddenly break and pour away, down down down in a steady rivulet. They bump into other drops of water on the glass sometimes, and everything goes with them, quick speedy, like conga line at the height of a party. It’s at times like these that I remember vividly riding in cars, watching the heavy rain come down on the windshield and gather at the sides, all jiggly like jell-o and lava lamps. .

I wanted to open the windows, but it seemed like such a shame to cause all the drops of water to tremble and shake, and I realised that I probably shouldn’t as I didn’t want the rain to come in and soak the ledge and carpet and books.

I got some cereal out for breakfast and had a look at the pantry- as a shipwreck survivor would survey the contents of his fast declining rations- and realised that I needed to go to the supermarket to get some stuff for lunch. I had not been going grocery shopping properly the past week and was running a little low on food.

I considered showering and washing up a bit, but decided against it- the supermarket is just 2 minutes away. I picked up my pyjamas off the floor and pulled them on gruffly. My hair was a mess and I was unshaven, but I really didn’t care. Opening my umbrella as I stepped out the front door, I thanked God that I didn’t have to go to Nagoya (or anywhere else for that matter) for work and had gotten the entire long weekend off.

As I walked past the houses, my jandals getting rather wet from the puddles, I looked up and thought to myself, the world is much beautiful when it rains. I like how the water comes down on everything and makes each leaf, flower and pebble glisten and glow as if they’ve all been given a fresh coat of lacquer. You can close your eyes for just a second in the rain, and not know where you are because of the way the rain muffles out noise.

Thinking thoughts along those lines, I went to the supermarket.

Music

2007-07-12T16:41:00.000+09:00

Music from your teenage years will always affect you in a way that no other song or ballad can.

It doesn’t matter how corny the lyrics are or how ridiculous the video clips and dance moves appear, they will always bring back memories of events you had forgotten, faces you don’t see anymore, and feelings that shook you soul- just for a second, old scars reopen to bleed and pleasure moments are relived.

I wonder why music from those years are the ones that affect you so much. Is it the turbulent transition between child to adult? Is it the memory of your first love and how much it hurt when you first realised that not everything was sugar and spice and the colours from your crayonola set? There are also the times when everything seemed to have fallen apart and you just needed your own time; to process the pain and learn how to put one foot before the other again.

After a while, even though the details of what had actually happened- as important or trivial as it may have been- becomes lost, but the feeling remains, fossilised and hard in the bed of your memory. So it is true what they say, we forget what happened or exactly took place, but we will always remember how we felt.

Reminder

2007-07-11T08:42:00.001+09:00

This post is to remind me to take things slow and be patient.

Having said that, and after much contemplation and thinking things over, I know that I don’t have to worry or be overly anxious about where I want to be or should be in a couple of years. It will work out. After all, everything in past few years have been going pretty well as it should be.

I just need to keep the following quote in mind:

Enlightenment is understanding that there is nowhere to go, nothing to do, and nobody you have to be except exactly who you’re being right now.

Here goes nothing…

Wine and Coffee

2007-06-27T09:05:00.000+09:00

Just for the record, wine remains the easiest, fastest and cheapest (depending on what kind of wine you’re drinking) way to get drunk.

I was at a wine function for work last night, and there were bottles of it in the restaurant cum bar we were at. We were there to help out with the function, so we only got to sample the wines and it was good.

I remember staring at a glass of 2003 sauvignon in my hand, happily thinking, golden and clear… which is a bit embarrassing and disturbing when you reconsider in a sober state of mind. We also got to sip from a dusty 1964 bottle and it was exquisite. Over time, the wine had matured and acquired a deep, sweet taste- like nectar.

After the function, we went to a café for some much-needed coffee and to sober up a bit before eventually going home. It was good to sit there, tired after a long day of classes and the event at night, just to talk and unwind. I remember leaning back in the couch, not really caring about things and feeling at peace.

As I walked back from my station last night, talking to Joyce on my cell phone, I realised that even though things have a tendency to get hectic every now and then, everything is actually in place and where it should be. And that’s a great feeling.

Sacrifice

2007-06-26T15:18:00.000+09:00

I don’t want to sacrifice my life and dreams for someone else and call it love. I don’t want someone else to sacrifice their lives and dreams for me, just to make me happy, and call it love either.

I don’t want to be blind and make excuses for people. I believe that the truth is something we owe to ourselves and is worth hearing, even though it may be far from pleasant. I want like to be level-minded and see just what’s there- not what I want to be there. I want people to tell me if I’m doing something wrong and am acting like an asshole, rather than sitting around, wondering why I’ve changed. So far, I’ve been lucky, to have Mari and Li-Mor to always be painfully honest with me, even about things that I don’t want to hear. It’s hard to be truthful with family and friends, and to tell them things directly- God knows the number of people I’ve pissed off and hearts I’ve broken due to my bluntness and impatience. But what hurts me more is the ones I didn’t have the courage to tell in time because I couldn’t think of how to say things without hurting them, until it came out in a complicated, sticky mess.

I don’t want to have to pretend to be what I’m not and keep my opinion on things silent, be it what it may- religion, culture, people and politics. I don’t want to have to pretend to be something other than what I’m not, deny how I feel and make-believe that things are okay, when in truth, they’re not. For that is not love, but hate. I believe that people shouldn’t be persecuted for thinking differently and standing up for what they believe in as well.

So yeah. I’m selfish. But at least I know it.

The time traveler's wife

2007-06-26T08:55:00.000+09:00

I had to stop myself from reading ‘The Time Traveler’s Wife’ last night. The book had come back to me after being passed around from one friend to another, and I had sat down with it at home, thinking that it might be good to revisit the book again.

I opened it at a random page, just to see where I’d get. I landed in the chapter where Henry travels back in time and ends up smashing a guy to pulp for gay slurs. Knowing what would come next, I flipped forward a few pages. Something inside me urged to go to the very last pages, the ending, and I heeded that feeling.

That was a bad idea. I had only read the first few lines on the last page about Claire, when all the feelings of sorrow and despair came over me. Up to date, ‘The Time Traveler’s Wife’ remains the only book that I’ve actually cried over, and even after a year of reading it, I can still shed tears for it. No book I’ve read so far has managed to paint the human condition and our feelings of anguish and pain over love so vividly, while at the same time, maintaining our innocence and belief in it.

Love knows no boundaries and transcends time and death. ‘The Time Traveler’s Wife’ is a tale of this.

The news

2007-06-23T09:46:00.000+09:00

I find reading the news very amusing these days. It used to be highly-informative and installs-a-sense-of-being-updated, but nowadays, I go through headlines for laughs. Honestly, from bomohs (witch doctors) performing naked dances under yellow umbrellas while chanting mantras with the intention of curing patients (makes one wonder why so many people go to strip bars) to awarding Salman Rushdie with knighthood and Paris Hilton going to jail (but not before declaring her intentions of spending that time to think over global issues and come up with ways of making the world a better place)- what more can you ask out of a newspaper? There’s no need to go to the cinema to watch a comedy flick anymore- you just need to flick through the papers.

And the language used in some of the articles has come close to atrocious as well. An example would be: “Man power meets beef up” What the hell? It sounds awfully lewd and suggestive.

I wish I could put a finger on where and when the news became a tabloid, but sadly, I can’t. I guess like any other form of business, you need the publicity to garner attention and make sales.

Heh. At least I didn’t start on India’s vibrating condom ban!

A letter to no one

2007-06-22T15:21:00.000+09:00

I don’t know who you are or where you are at the moment, but I’m just taking a moment to say that I’m thinking of you. I cannot confess those three sacred words, for we have yet to meet, but in time, beloved, in time.

I’m in the train now, but it’s going nowhere- there’s been an accident at the station before us, and for safety reasons of some sort, the train was stopped and has remained stationary here, on the tracks between Urawa and Saitama Shintoshin for the past 45 minutes.

I wonder what has happened. Did someone throw himself before an oncoming train in the morning rush hour, and are they now sweeping up his remains, limb by limb?

I’d usually apologise for sharing such dark thoughts, especially in so intimate a letter, but my thoughts are glum and dark today, like the weather outside- all grey and cloudy.

I look outside and realise how stranded and lost we seem, even though it is actually not so. There are some construction sites outside the tracks, but I don’t see anything moving- the cranes and bulldozers are still. I see steel frames and safety nets on the construction works, but I get the impression that it is going nowhere and will remain uncompleted. The grass outside is yellow and dry, and there is weed all around- choking and suffocating.

In the first 15 minutes the train stopped, the passengers seemed angry and annoyed- they whisked out their cell phones from suit pockets and purses to call offices and co-workers to let them know of the delay and to cancel meetings and appointments. There are a couple of high school students near my seat, and at first, they had chatted excitedly about how the were going to miss classes, but now (after and hour) they sat down on the carriage floor to do a spot of studying and go over class notes- everyone seems to have given up hope of arriving on time today and seem to be occupying themselves with things- be it texting or reading, or when all else fails; sleeping.

We opened some of the windows in the carriage too then, because the air conditioning had died on us and the air became stuffy.

I was reading Seneca’s “On the shortness of life” just before, but I got a bit bored and decided to pen a few words instead- that’s how this letter came around. Have you read of Seneca before? He’s a Roman philosopher and his ideas are quite interesting. I like how he tells us that life is too short (hence the title) and how we need to start living for ourselves. A quote which caught my attention especially was; Living is the least important activity of the preoccupied man: yet there is nothing which is harder to learn. He uses another analogy where he likens the struggles in life to a journey taken in a boat over a raging sea, only to comment in the end that the sailor did not have a long voyage, just a long tossing about.

My eyes are getting a bit tired in the dim light- the fluorescent lights went out with the air conditioning when the train stopped. I’d better pen off now.

Till then, my love.

(After note: I was stuck in the train for 4 hours! Can you believe that? All my classes were cancelled, but it wasn’t too bad because some of the other teachers and a lot of other kids couldn’t make it as well. Just another day in the office)

Useful phrases in describing locations

2007-06-21T16:44:00.000+09:00

I’m just taking a moment away from marking student’s exams to say this:

What on earth possessed me to teach them how to read maps and useful phrases to describe locations of places in town?

Beside? Next to? Opposite? Behind? In front? Between?

What the fuck?

All their answers make sense!

(*cry*)

On happiness

2007-06-21T10:34:00.000+09:00

I don’t believe that we are ever ready in life. Life just throws things at you and it’s a matter of how you catch them or respond to things. I think the hardest thing here is to make light of the situation and as Toshi once said, not to look at things positively or negatively, but to just look at facts and think of what you’ve got to do next.

I never realised it, but I used to put a limit on happiness- something like a sub-clause on a legal document or contract, if you may, and I think that a lot of people do that too. What I mean here is, we often tell ourselves things like “I’ll be happy one I get that job” or “I’ll be really thrilled once I find someone”… and all sorts of stuff.

Why should we set conditions for our own happiness and well-being? I heard someone once say “Waiting for happiness- never gonna happen” and I think that’s true. We’re in charge of our lives and we’ve got to take a more active role in it. For things to change, you’ve got to change first. And change has to come from within, be it something as minute as a single thought or making and carrying out an actual decision.

The main reason for this post is mainly because I’m nearing crossroads again. It’s just that things have started to fall into routine again- the mundane and predictable (I sound awfully ungrateful, I know, but it’s not that)- and I feel that I’ve got to spice things up again. There’s just so much more that I want.

And I’m going out to get them.

The devil and organised religion

2007-06-20T12:18:00.000+09:00

Has anyone noticed that Salman Rushdie looks like the devil?

Normally, I wouldn’t blog about the way people look because it’s a waste of time and who really gives a shit about things like that, but this realisation occurred to me after having his face pop up on my screen every time I opened the BBC webpage today.

He looks like a typical depiction of the western devil. The goatee. The narrow, thin raised eyebrows. The pointed nose. The slant of his eyes is kinda unnerving too. And I’ve got to say that his glasses actually elevate the problem. Add a couple of horns on his balding head, a pitchfork, and you’ll see what I mean.

Gah. I hate the current media frenzy regarding his possible knighthood as well. Who really cares, considering the fact that most of the Islamic world hasn’t read the Satanic Verses, due to heavy bans and open burnings? Do people really know what it’s about? People would realise that it’s really just trash and not anything worth getting worked up for if they just took the time to read it.

It’s ridiculous how secular the world is becoming. Just sometime ago, the Vatican went against Amnesty International for supporting women’s rights to abortion.

Honestly, what is the problem with organised religion?

The young man in the picture

2007-06-20T10:40:00.000+09:00

There is a picture at home that I’ve been thinking of recently.

I discovered it some time ago last August as I was going through the old family albums and pictures. It was tucked away in an old album, which from a glance, looked like a small portfolio for someone’s collected postcards.

It is a photograph of a young man, reclining casually against the couch or bed (which one I can’t remember) with his head resting on his crossed arms. His dark hair, wavy like mine when long enough, is slightly tussled, as if he had just woken up from sleep. The style reminds me vaguely of Paul McCartney from The Beatles, which I know the young man in question was a fan of. He is wearing a light blue sweater, and though the photo is grainy and rather faded, I know the blue would have been the hue of the sky over the ocean in summer, which makes me wonder if the picture was taken in autumn or winter or spring- which season I can never know for certain and never thought to ask.

What caught my attention the most, however, is the look on his face. He is smiling for the photo, as I’ve seen him do a million times, but it is such a powerful look of peace and calm which comes from within, that the first time I laid my eyes on the photo, I almost didn’t recognise him. Studying the picture, one can come up with romantic notions and idealistic conclusions such as: he is happy with where he is. Or, he is not where he wants to be in life, but he’s okay with what he has right now, and that is solace. Or, it could just be, hmm…that piece of chocolate from the convenience store was nice, for I know, like me, he too has a sweet tooth.

His smile is a row of neat teeth and thick eyebrows that rise, as in at surprise or delight. His sharp cheekbones and full lips accentuate his smile, and from the angle the picture was taken, it seems wider than it actually is. He looks great.

It is a photo of my father, from his student days in Japan. At a guess, I’d say he is between 21-24, close to my age now. We look so much like one another that it’s quite uncanny. His lean frame, so like mine, must mean he weighed around 50 kgs then. I wonder if even then, we sounded like one another, for now, when I pick up the phone, people have some difficulty telling us apart. I wonder if he pulled pranks on people like I do to Savee and how cheeky he could get, when tormenting people. Looking at the picture, I wondered too if he had gone out the night before, or what he thought about Japan, or if he ever expected life to turn out the way it did.

One thing I realised after graduating and starting work is that I can talk heart to heart to dad now. It was something we couldn’t really do before, oddly enough. I guess we had to wait for a while, for me grow up before we could finally relate to one another, and I’m glad we have that now. I’ll always remember the both of us sharing a smoke outside Narita Airport as we waited for mom and talked about things. I wish we could have spent a bit more time together then, but I appreciate the few fleeting moments we had.

So here’s a ‘Happy Belated Father’s Day’. I love you.

A toast to being single

2007-06-19T20:17:00.000+09:00

Another teacher and I were talking about what we did over the weekend when the topic of our friends and social circles came up.

Interestingly enough, both our groups of friends are made up of people who are in serious relationships or are thinking of tying the knot soon.

That’s when I commented, “I’m tired of hanging out with people who are dating or considering marriage seriously.” Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends to bits, but it does get trying when our conversations revolve around wedding plans, relationship issues, buying property (*groans*) and settling down (*groans* and *gasps*). I worry about what we’d talk about once they start having kids (*reels back in terror*)!

Being single, I just can’t relate to these things. And in all honesty, I don’t know if I want to. As Lan once said to me directly, “You love being a bachelor, don’t you?” Hell yeah. Right now, I can’t imagine being with anyone- being on my own gives me too much liberty and freedom. The fact that there’s still so much I want to do on my own first doesn’t help.

There are down periods though, when I worry about what I’d do if I end up becoming too independent and incapable of letting anyone in, but I just feel that now is not the time. If it were something that I had really wanted or was meant to happen (as fatalistic as that sounds) it would have happened a long time ago.

And another thing is the fact that I would like to be able so much more. It’s something that I’ve been feeling for quite a while now and I’d like to become a better person before I go into something. It’s just something I need to do now.

Having said that though, I’ve got to say that nothing gives me more thrill than knowing I can go wherever I want, see whoever I want and do whatever I want, when I want to (*heh*).

Marking Math 101

2007-06-19T18:42:00.000+09:00

In continuation of the funny things that students do and quirky solutions they have to tasks set before them, here's the latest. It's a math solution. Enjoy!

Weekend escape

2007-06-17T17:07:00.000+09:00

Now, why can’t all my weekends be like this?

A bunch of us went to Hakone for the weekend and it was really great to get away from the hustle and bustle of the city for a while. Hakone’s quite a popular tourist spot for the residents of Tokyo (it’s just an hour and half away via train) and is famous for onsens (hot springs).

We stayed in Gora, which is a meandering 40 minute train ride into the hills from Hakone Yumoto. On the way there, the rickety train stopped for a couple of minutes at least 3 times, going back and forth- it felt like we were zig-zagging up and down the hill sometimes. There were a lot of hydrangeas blooming along the tracks and the splashes of azure and violet reminded me of the scenes from Miyazaki’s Sprited Away.

It was great to be there. The ryokan (Japanese inn) we stayed at was surrounded by trees, and one thing that really hit me was how quiet and peaceful it was there. Gone were the sounds of people and trains that I had grown so used to, only to be replaced by the gentle rustling of leaves. For once, sun didn’t glint off steel and glass, and instead, came down through the filtering leaves, green and gold, as Nature had intended it to be.

We didn’t do anything special and took things slow during our stay there. We walked around in yukatas, layed down on the tatami, ate good traditional Japanese food with chopsticks, sipped green tea in the morning, ume-shu in the evenings, and laughed about trivial things. We spent a really long time in the baths, just soaking up the hot water and talking about nothing in particular. It was good, not to have to check our cell phones and worry about the time and places to be.

I didn’t want the trip to end. On the journey back, while watching the trees lessen and the landscape become bare of rice fields and hills, while the amount of houses and buildings increased steadily, I’ve got to say that I felt a bit sad. It was a return to work, to routine, and…reality.

Sigh. I need another escape.

Syok sendiri

2007-06-15T15:22:00.000+09:00

Taro and I were chatting on MSN, catching up and exchanging news, when something he said really hit me.

Taro says: ….I remember you… you could kill while smiling…

Frozen Mercury says: LOL. You know me ;p

Heeee. I’m not going to disclose the entire conversation or what we were actually talking about. You can figure that out on your own.

Right now, I’ll take that as a compliment. It’s good to stroke my ego every now.

Friendster

2007-06-14T10:43:00.000+09:00

It’s a Friendster thing. When you suddenly get unexpected messages from people you don’t really remember or recall. People whom you met a long, long time ago, so far away, that it could have been in another galaxy.

So far, it’s never happened to me- until today.

I had checked my inbox this morning to discover that I had received several messages, an electronic smile and a comment. All which originated from the same sender. Curious, I logged on the networking service and viewed the sender’s profile. It didn’t ring a bell and for a while, I was dumbstruck- who could it be? She clearly remembered me from primary school back in Terengganu, but I just couldn’t recall who she was. She was using a nickname, so it didn’t shed much clue, and I couldn’t recognise the individual in the pictures- people change a lot in 12 years.

It was only after reading another message that I realised who she was, an old friend from my half forgotten years on the East Coast. It’s amazing that people still remember you even though you’ve been out of the picture for quite a while and have a terrible habit of not keeping in touch regularly. Just for a few minutes then, it all came back to me- school canteens, extra-curricular club activities, watching cartoons on telly, eating keropok lekor with your mates, reading Doraemon in Malay.... the second flashback of memories this week. I’m starting to wonder if this is some higher power trying to tell me something.

But yeah, thanks for remembering and actually bothering to keep in touch. I’m glad that you’re doing well too. I have a feeling that in the next few months, I’ll be receiving more messages and invites from old and forgotten friends, and that’s all good.

It’s good to be remembered.

Remembering cigarette boxes and snails

2007-06-12T20:29:00.000+09:00

I got a copy of my birth certificate in the mail today. I’ve been expecting it for some time now as I had called home for it to help out with my passport application process here, but as I made my way up to the apartment with the envelope clasped in my hand, unanticipated tendrils of melancholy poked its fingers into my heart and settled in.

I opened the door, but stayed at the threshold for a while- it was hot and stuffy inside, a sure sign that summer is almost here- and tore the envelope open. The white envelope was light and thin, and for a second, I worried that it was empty. I cupped the sides slightly, creating a shaft and after a shake, a folded piece of paper slid out into my palm. It was tiny and looked insignificant- like the many notes and scrap paper that I leave scattered on my desk.

I unfolded the document and scanned through the words written on it. It’s funny the amount of things that you can discover over things that you thought you knew so well- like looking a painting and discovering an unknown hue in a corner, or realising that there could be just another interpretation to a poem you had read as a child. I was born at 11.02 pm. If it had been any later than that, my birthday would have been on the 30 th of March instead of the 29 th. I had weighed only 2.370 kg at birth- I was premature and really small. There is a picture of me at home, after my parents brought me back from the hospital, where I’m lying on bed, with a box of Dad’s Dunhill cigarettes next to my head- the scary thing here is not that there is a box of ciggies next to a new born babe, but the fact that the baby’s head is actually just slightly bigger than the pack of cigarettes. Dad told me that he took that picture because he wanted to remember how small I was.

It’s incredible really, the flashback of memories that such a simple piece of paper could trigger. On my way to the convenience store after putting the copy away safely at home, I passed a mother and daughter in the neighbourhood, watering their pot plants. All was silent in the twilight except for the slish-slosh of their watering cans, and it reminded me of an evening when I was four, when Mom and I had watched two snails crawl across the brick rockery in our backyard. I’m surprised that I remember so much, even though it all seemed so long ago.

Nothing made me feel my mortality more than receiving my birth certificate today. It’s an odd way to end my day, especially when I had started it by going over the new pictures of my niece that I received this morning. I guess that’s where we are in life now- growth and beginnings and roots and remembering how we started out.

And I’m grateful for that.

Lessons so far...

2007-06-12T16:53:00.000+09:00

It’s just occurred to me that I’ve been in Japan for slightly over a year now. Here’s a list of all the things I’ve learned so far (in no chronological order).

• Your flat mate can climb up into the apartment balcony at 3 am even though she might be mightily drunk (and in a skirt) and knock on your window if you fall asleep and lock her out.

• Japanese people in the public service don’t really listen to you- if you ask questions or ask some thing out of the ordinary, it actually sets them thinking. And most of the time, you can get what you want from them (*winks*).

• Speaking in a high-pitched voice and acting immature or younger than your actual age can be interpreted as cute. Smiling and nodding earns you bonus points. Pretending you didn’t know better wins you their hearts.

• Expect the unexpected- these include seeing purple haired grannies walking casually on the streets (they look cool by the way), having live fish served to you in restaurants, police officers stopping and arresting you in Tokyo Station on grounds of being a foreigner and not having the proper documents (most likely from China), and shopkeepers wrapping up your laundry basket with protective plastic sheets and attaching handles to it as you go through the check out counter.

• Students are usually very curious about you. If you speak English fluently, too fluently, you are immediately a foreigner. They might ask you why you have black hair and dark eyes too (Not everyone is blond these days, how sad).

• A Russian chick can speak English with a thick Russian accent on an educational TV programme on the national channel and still claim to be a native speaker from America.

• Things are what you make of it. If you want something, you need to go out and get it.

• No one really notices this, because we all take it for granted, but friendship is a relationship too. It’s not perfect, but you need to work at it and put in the effort to make it work. And like all relationships, you can’t expect too much- your friends need their space too.

…and that’s it for now. Unless someone wants to hear about the Ice Cucumber Pepsi that’s in the Japanese market now!

Essay Marking 101

2007-06-11T08:59:00.000+09:00

Got this from Li-Mor via email. It's really cute and funny.

Saturdays with Monyet Chomel

2007-06-09T20:11:00.000+09:00

There’s something about going out on Saturday afternoons that’s always great.

When you’re a kid, Saturday afternoons are the times when you go over to your best friends’ house to spend the entire day there; watching telly or reading comics (or ganging up on their annoying younger siblings).

When you’re a teen, you go to shopping malls to hang out and watch movies with your mates.

When you’re in uni…well, you usually get up in the afternoons on Saturday, barely recovering from a hangover, just to shower and have something as a late lunch-early dinner as you prepare to go out and do the whole thing all over again.

When you’re an adult and working, however, the weekend is the only time you have to actually catch up with friends and fill each other in on what you’ve been up to since you last met.

From here, I guess you can tell that I had a good Saturday. I went to Shinjuku to meet up with a friend, and we just hung out, going through some stores before finally sitting down for coffee in an outdoor café. We haven’t been able to do this in a while, just sit down and talk, though we had often chatted on the phone before. Between the business of teaching and rushing in and out of trains, it was great to finally catch up with what has been going on in each other’s lives. From the usual stuff like crazy students and lesson ideas that definitely work/ don’t work to life and what we each want from it. It’s uncanny how we both agreed that there’s gotta be more to life than this as we sat down for pizza, glancing at the rain falling outside, and how much we understand each other. But I guess that’s only logical though- after all that’s gone by.

I’m glad that we’ve got each other. I love you long-time, monyet chomel.

Gah! Not on the train!

2007-06-08T18:57:00.000+09:00

You see the craziest things on trains here. From people who eat entire egg sandwiches as they mumble to themselves while they walk up and down the carriage before suddenly looking outside the window and yelling, “You’re supposed to be dead!”, to Harajuku Goth Queens who apply make up openly (I actually timed one chick. She spent 15 minutes with a miniature toilet brush-like devise on her eyes), to sleazy old men who flick through porno mags even though there are women around them.

Which is a bit weird, because you’d think that after all that, especially the latter, I’d be immune to anything that would take place on trains by now and not be very surprised. But what I saw today actually made me burst out laughing.

All right. Enough with the suspense and intro. Here’s what happened:

I was on the train back from work today, reading The Two Towers and minding my own business when I looked up from my book casually to the seats in front of me. There was some guy sitting there, with a clip folder in his right hand, while his left hand was performing some very curious and interesting movements. At a glance, it looked like he was practicing guitar tabs and the fact that he kept referring to his clip folder made this assumption quite logical, acceptable even- except that his hand was right in front of his crotch.

If he had been rubbing his pants, I’d have actually gotten up and told him to wait until he had gotten off the train, or maybe go to some love hotel on his own- but he wasn’t, and the fact that he seemed so unaware of his hand movements (his wrist going up and down, forming a slight halo some times) made the whole thing seem so comical. The fact that I was listening to Duncan Sheik’s ‘Wishful Thinking’ made the whole thing much more hilarious. Wishful thinking indeed- wonder what on earth was going through his mind.

Dude, what the hell were you doing? Don’t tell me that you were practicing to play your guitar… or any other instrument, for that matter- I just don’t buy that.

Go home… and well… you know.

There is only now

2007-06-08T15:13:00.000+09:00

Walking to the convenience store to get my lunch today, I realised how fortunate I really am. The sun was shining and in my head, Stevie Wonder’s ‘You are the sunshine of my life’ was playing. Humming quietly to myself, I thought about how smoothly my morning classes had gone by and reflected about all the things that had been going on in the past few days.

It’s a wonder really, how everything falls into place, even when you least expect it or think that everything is too scattered or broken to fit together. It’s long been a philosophy of mine that there are no accidents and all my actions, deliberate or otherwise, are events that happen for a reason and are meant to take place. It’s a twisted world view really, one where you confidently do what you want, say what you want and act whichever way that pleases you the most with the knowledge that everything you do, WILL come back to you threefold in the end. The trick is accepting whatever the world spits back at you with as much dignity you can muster and going on.

Here, I must confess: I haven’t been kind. I’ve been thoughtless and said hurtful things once too many times, but they’ve all come back and I’ve accepted them, knowing that it’s the price to be paid. In a way, you live better that way, knowing that nothing is incidental and stop blaming others for your pain. I heard somewhere that enlightenment is really just understanding that there is nowhere to go, nothing to do, and nobody you have to be except exactly who you’re being right now. You have to be ok with yourself and what you already are before you can make a move towards something else. And that’s where you have to be consciously aware of how you view your problems. It’s not about bringing down the system or starting a revolution- it’s about making the system work for you. It’s not the end of the world unless you want it to be.

I’ve been tired of late. But after the few outbursts on the blog and just taking time to slow down and look things differently, I’m starting to get a grip again. I just need to focus. The rest will work out on its own. It will.

Fallen

2007-06-07T16:35:00.001+09:00

I find it hard keeping things real everyday. It’s not just about writing and where I get ideas from, but all the little things of everyday. From basic responses to questions like ‘how’s your day been?’- I had to stop myself from replying ‘five by five’ because that just sounded so wrong- to what I blog about. It’s just that you want to appear trendy/edgy/creative (list down several more advertising phrases), but at the same time maintain an air of honesty without selling out.

This so-called struggle that I have often comes down to the fact that I’m still discovering myself and deciding what I really want to do. I know that I don’t want to be stuck where I am right now, even though I enjoy it at the moment- it’s just not somewhere I want to be at forever, at the end of the day. I had planned to go back to Malaysia at one stage, after a couple of years and maybe start something new there, but after the debacle with parents a few months ago and the Lina Joy case (which came as a heavy blow to me), I’ve come to realise that that plan is just not going to happen.

Home should be where your heart is, and my heart is just not there anymore. It’s sad when you think about it. You spend so much time outside, hoping to learn and experience all that you can- with the hope that maybe, just maybe you’d find yourself and be able to go home in the end. The only thing is that, everything changes and you wake up not recognising yourself anymore. Not to mention realising that things can’t go back to the way they were- not after all that you’ve gone through and what you know now anyways, because that would be the death of your current self.

The question here, is can you allow that? Can you allow whom you’ve become to slip away just so that you can slip back into your former shell? It would be so easy, like slipping on a well-worn jacket before going out into the rain. Like putting on a mask to play make-believe before an audience of fools. But it would save so much heartache and pain though. No more arguments about who’s changed and what we’ve become. Not even having to feel needlessly guilty for thinking differently and unconsciously hurting the people you love by being so frank about how you feel.

Omnia mutantur, nihil interit.

Everything changes, but nothing is truly lost.

I hope that is true.

Scene

2007-06-04T13:06:00.000+09:00

He says:

Shhh… don’t tell anyone. We have to keep it down, we must be quiet. Not a word to another, my beloved, just you and I. No words must pass from either of our lips while we live- if I were to leave you on this mortal plane first, sew my lips shut, with a blunt needle. Thread the lips that you had often caressed and kissed with frays gathered from the tattered robes of weeping widows. Make the stitchings even and small, so that if my resolve were to break when the vultures eat my soul, I will not tell, even beyond the grave.

(Stops. Sighes. Looks at her)

She says:

Alas! What of you, if I were to go first? Would you go on without me, if it were to come to that? Say that you would. Promise that you would not throw yourself off a cliff or reach out for figgs and asps. Give me the last rites and go on with your life. I will wait for you on the Other Shore.

End of Scene.

Ok

2007-05-30T16:48:00.000+09:00

I need to figure out what I really want out of life. I worry that if I wait around for things to work and sort themselves out, my life would end up being half-lived.

The problem with these things is that you never know what you really want. You know (quoting Coldplay) that the road getting there won’t be easy, but at the same time, no one will tell you how hard it will be. It’s harder when you’re not too sure of what exactly you want, and worry that maybe, just maybe, you might not want it once you get it. Add in all the interwoven variables like morals, religion, roots, culture and society, and you get the wonderful multi-layered shot that leaves you numb with swaying limbs.

I have a list somewhere in my mind, of all the things I want out of life. Writing. Having my work published. Training harder in the gym. Going back to school after a while. Over time, some of the items on this list have been ticked off, or horror upon horrors, been taken off the list, due to the realisation that some of it was simply beyond me.

But one thing has always remained the same: at the end of it all, I want to be ok. I don’t want to worry about what is expected out of me or who I should be instead of who I want to be. I want to live well, and not feel guilty or regret my actions. I want to look back and only laugh over all the crazy stuff I’ve done.

It’s all going to go by so fast. The last 4 years have. I look back now, and there are days when I wonder if it all did happen, and mostly, how it all happened.

I need to start being ok now.

On pain

2007-05-24T14:55:00.000+09:00

First you must understand that you don’t have any problems and nothing is wrong. It’s just the way things are and that’s how life goes. Do not be ashamed to cry for it takes more strength to back down and admit defeat rather than fighting for a wrong cause.

There’ll be days and long stretches of time when everything seems to go wrong, but remember, no suffering is ever in vain and every cloud has a silver lining. Let things run its course: the pain will stop. The rain will clear and make way for the sun to shine again.

People will come and go in your life. Be kind and understanding, but at the same time, be careful. Do not hold grudges for they are useless and a waste of time. You’ll do better if you move on and forgive. People will try to take many things from you: your love, your time, your heart, your soul, your possessions…everything if you let them. Never let them take your soul and break your spirit, for those two are yours and yours alone. You may share them, let other’s glimpse into the wonder that is you, but they are not to be given away.

If things don’t break you, they will only make you. But what you become is your choice alone. Do not become hard, for you block out everything and become blind to the small things in life when you do that. Do not become broken or weak for then you will weep at everything and life will bring you no joy. The hardest thing here is trying to fin the balance.

Treat people the way you want to be treated. Be kind. Take the time to understand and feel others’ pain, to wear their shoes and carry their burden.

Live. For when it is time, you will no longer have any of this.

Revamp

2007-05-24T09:00:00.000+09:00

This page is still being edited/changed/modified (pick your choice). I was going through possible template designs and layouts in my blogger account when I realised that the services they offered had been upgraded- it’s really user-friendly now!

I’m not good with HTML encoding and the first time I changed my blog template, I got really irked off because it was so complicated. It’s much simpler now, but I wouldn’t say that I’m done with this blog yet.

Expect more changes in times to come.

Thank you

2007-05-21T15:34:00.000+09:00

Thank you for looking after me.

I haven’t written to you in a while, and I worried that maybe you thought I had forgotten about you. I haven’t, you know. I’ve been busy, but you were always within the fringe of my thoughts, like an idea waiting to be developed, the first line of a prose begging to be written on parchment and paper.

I tried talking to you a few nights ago, but my half-assed attempts at trying to start a conversation with a million random thoughts flying through my mind got us nowhere. I wanted to tell you how important you are to me and in my life right now and how loved I feel by you, but those things remained unsung.

Every time I’m feeling blue or down, the phone would ring, or I’d get a text message- little things that reminded me I’m not alone and I’m loved. There were also the postcards that arrived in the mail and emails from friends. Not to mention all the great conversations on MSN that I had.

So thank you. For everything.

La la la la

2007-04-26T16:29:00.000+09:00

I’m happy right now. This week has been full of little unexpected surprises and occasional what-the-fuck-moments, but looking at the big picture, everything seems to be in place.

School has started again, and so far, my classes have been going pretty well, and I can’t say that I’m complaining. My kids and I seem to have some sort of silent, mutual agreement, and we get each other.

I’ve been getting enough sleep every night for the past month, doing wonders for my physical and mental well being- who would’ve taught that just a few extra hours each night could do wonders? I’ve also been eating properly and I feel good- inside out.

I’ve been reconnecting with my friends, both in and outside of Japan, and it’s great to be in touch with them again, just to know what’s going on in their lives and what they’re up to these days.

(Humming along to The Beatles’s I feel fine)

Solace

2007-04-25T16:27:00.000+09:00

I was on the train after our school barbeque last Friday, tired from a day with the kids at the beach and in the sun, when it hit me; I’m nike (pronounced as ‘nee-keh’). I was talking to some new teachers about what I taught and where I was from, when the topic of my Japanese communication skills came up (“How did you start learning Japanese?”). The question always led me back to my heritage, so I told her that I was half Japanese, to which she commented, “So you’re nike! I always thought you looked a bit Japanese!”

The term nike is used in Japan to refer to children who are born as the result of mixed marriages and it means that you’re the result of a union between two different races. For some unexplainable, reason, I never thought that it would actually apply to me- probably because most of the time, I consider myself a gaijin (foreigner) here and am having way too much fun as a foreigner here anyways.

In all honesty, I never think about my background. I’m not sure if it’s something I do consciously, or have pushed away on purpose- I mean, how many people wake up everyday and think about their heritage? Over time, after the side glances and immediate change in behaviour / treatment from people (after they realise that I’m half Malay or half Jap, or mixed), it’s become a topic that I would just fail to bring up.

It’s not really something I like to talk about or lay bare on a silver platter as well. In the past, I’ve been described as ‘anak kacukan’ a combination of Malay words which literally translates into ‘hybrid child’, thus making my existence sound like the result of a botched up genetic experiment. I’ve been hated/ liked for being extremely fair/ not being dark enough, so I think I have a case when I say I don’t want to talk about it.

But when I heard the term 'nike' being used directly on me, it felt right. It felt better than having to describe myself as a half of this or that, because after a while, trying to explain which halves you’re from start sounding like the ingredients for a cocktail; one part Japanese sake, one part Malay rice wine...

For once, the saying ‘two halves don’t make a whole’ sounded like utter nonsense.

(After word: I’m not utterly down, or in desperate need of assurance. I just wanted to share this with the people who read this blog).

Pretty pictures with taglines

2007-04-24T15:33:00.000+09:00

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

My kids

2007-04-19T10:19:00.000+09:00

I always get a laugh from my students’ antics these days. You’ve got to admit that there’s something cute about the way non-native speakers try to speak English and the curious little comments they make.

Some of the following are what really brightened up my day in the past week.

Question: What’s happening?
Answer: Nana is happening.

(A reply on an excited student’s sudden ecstatic behaviour and laughter. Don't roll

your eyes, her name is Nana).

Comment: Oooh… ohhh! Super surprise, sensei!

(An exclamation from one of my kids during our conversation. I can’t really recall

what I said as well).

Hey! Hey yo’. Do you know Nagasawa Masami? I’m Nagasawa Masami
(*insert pseudo rapper hand movements*).

(I’m not too sure who Nagasawa Masami is myself, but apparently, she’s a celebrity

in Japan. No… the celebrity is not my student, she happens to be her idol).

And the cherry at the top of the sundae’s got to be this comment from a student:

I want to go swimming naked in summer.

(This was in Japanese, by the way. He was discussing summer activities with

friends, and inadvertently blurted this out. I just cracked up laughing, and when he had realised what he said, he got pretty embarrassed).

Gotta admit that these kids are starting to grow on me!

Think. Full stop.

2007-04-16T16:54:00.000+09:00

I have not posted anything for a while, I know, simply because I couldn’t be bothered to. Not that I’ve been going through anything, but just simply because I felt too lazy to write something, anything really, and put it on my blog.

A part of me has been tired recently. I’m tired of dealing with stupid people who continue to annoy me with their endless prattle and problems. Usually, I pride myself as being the bigger person, doing the right thing, trying to be mature and understanding (add flossing, disinfecting items after use, trying to achieve sainthood and dying a virgin- yeah right), but right now, between being back in schools and dodging people who have a tendency to bump into you in the stations because they keep looking at the ground when they walk, I have this to say: BULL SHIT.

It’s not possible for me to continue being supportive and emphatic, when people insist on doing the same dumb thing day in and day out. A friend had once quoted to me, “People are really in charge of what happens to them. 85% of the time, when bad things happen, it’s because of cause and effect.” I believe in that, and if that’s the case, then why the fuck do some people insist that they haven’t done anything wrong?

I’ve been re-reading a draft for a post I wrote two months ago, at the height of annoyance and anger, and I think it’s high time for me to put it out. The original version is longer and much more explicit, but I’ve only selected a few excerpts that summarize how I feel right now.

Stupidity. I believe that stupidity should be labeled as a crime against humanity and given its due penalty- and I mean capital punishment. Stupidity is overrated these days (you can see it on television, in the cinemas- hell, they make movies called ‘Dumb and Dumber’ only to make sequels to it- ‘Dumb and Dumberer’, go figure), but lately, I feel that it’s been working overtime to piss the hell out of me.

I have a very low tolerance of stupidity in people. I’m not attacking the lack of academic education or knowledge, but the mere non-existence (whatsoever) of common sense in certain people.

(I had originally used an example of how people bump into you because they don’t look up at the end of the paragraph above, but as I’ve already used that in this post, I just want to add a few more “I statements” – if I can’t vent in blogs, where else am I supposed to do that?).

I do not like repeating myself, especially when asking questions. I do not appreciate having to ask the same question three times, to the same individual, especially if I keep getting non-confirmative and vague replies. Questions such as “What is going to happen on the 25 th?” should not be replied with prompt, ready-made answers which shed no light on actual events to come (an example would be ‘All hell is going to break loose’ I was given this reply three times). How on earth can I decipher the true meaning of that code, ‘All hell will break loose’? Does it attempt to lead one towards the eventual path of knowing, a dawn of realisation, a goddamn-much-needed ENLIGHTENMENT?

I read the Davinci Code, but the aforementioned phrase was a quote too complex in its subtleties for me to understand. Hence, I believe that it would only be natural for me to suddenly appear cold and indifferent. You can’t blame people if they become uninterested because you are dull- it’s like wearing a black frock to a funeral and wondering why no one has commented on how pretty it is. Or like fat people trying to sue McDonald’s for making them obese.

My point here is that repetition is boring and encourages the mind to forget rather than retain any knowledge actually learned. Ask any student or individuals involved in the field of professional academic study and research, they’ll agree. I believe that applies to every day conversation as well. No one likes to confirm the same thing more than once, or ask the same question more than once (‘Think twice, talk once!’ Note: for some individuals, the thinking process should not be conducted just twice, but thrice or as much as necessary, until symptoms of stupidity and unwarranted foolishness achieve a marked decline). Now that I’ve come to think of it, stupidity is a vicious cycle, isn’t it? A positive feedback loop which contributes to the original cause, a metaphor of a snake with its tail between its fangs.

Therefore, here in conclusion, I would like to propose the following steps to avoid unnecessary irritance from stupid individuals:

Step 1: Think.

Step 2: Just for 2 seconds, BEFORE doing or saying something, not AFTER.

Afterword:

Thinking. It’s like recycling- if everyone does it, life would be so hassle free.

The Sweet Escape

2007-03-23T10:37:00.000+09:00

Behold: a vision of beauty. She steps out of the car, sunlight glinting off her hair. Her eyes are veiled behind white sun glasses and her are lips puckered, like a child pouting on sour green apples. She walks towards you, her stilettos clicking on the pavement and her hand bag moving to the sway of her hips. From the way she lifts her chin airily and adjusts her scarf, you’d think she was in huff and angry, but no no no, she’s not. She’s just in a rush and oblivious to everything.

She’s a very busy lady, you see, and right now, she’s got more than one thing one her mind. She tries to juggle them as she casually hums the tune of her latest song, thinking over the lines. She worries about a smudge on her cheek. She desperately wishes that she didn’t eat that piece of chocolate. She doesn’t know if she can follow the choreography for her latest video shoot.

Woo hoo. Yee hoo.

She looks up. She hears the cat calls and sees the stares of men as they walk past. She smiles and walks on.

(Image ends here)

Gwen Stefani has still got it and I don’t care what you think. I saw the video clip for her latest single, The Sweet Escape, and within seconds, I was hooked. The lines are cheeky and the clip itself is comical bordering on corny, but man oh man, I fell for it. Who cares if she’s just had a baby or if she wears black and white stripes all the time? I’d readily start acting like Justin Timberlake (“Dirty babe, see these shackles, baby I’m your slave) if I met her in real life.

Woo hoo. Yee hoo.

Sufiya

2007-03-08T15:33:00.000+09:00

Hmm bebe… hmm bebe…

I fell in love with you first. I did not think I would, but when I laid my eyes on you, I thought you were gorgeous. Your bright smile and how you gripped my little finger in your palm ensnared my heart. Your baby mohawk hair and cupid bow lips were adorable. And the innocent depth of your eyes when I rocked you in my arms…

Holding you and walking with you quietly through the house and garden are the gifts and memories I treasure the most. I will always remember how cute you looked with the small moist towel on your forehead when you had the fever and how much you love being around people.

You’re changing so much and you’re going to continue growing so fast. I wish I could be there to see it all. I know there will be the steady exchange of photographs and emails to fill me in on how you are and where you’re heading, but it’s not the same, my angel. I only hope that things go well for you and wait for the time when we’ll meet again.

Time and only time again…

Unsent

2007-02-26T16:52:00.000+09:00

I listened to ‘Unsent’ by Alanis Morissette the other day. It had been somewhere in my music folders, undisturbed until I had looked it up on my player. I had not listened to the song for such a long time, that it felt simultaneously weird and nice to hear it again; like travelling down a familiar, forgotten path; anticipating the sudden pitches and short harmonica solo at the end as one would look for bumps and curves in path.

I remember being 14 and in high school when the song was released. Going through the whole teen-angst period, Alanis Morissette had appealed a lot to me, and though I found the song bitersweet, rather than angry (compared to her songs on Jagged Little Pill), I liked it nonetheless. I remember thinking I could connect to it so much- through the various hormonal crushes, personality clashes with other students, trying to fit in and hating the popular cliques. When I listened to it today, I realised I could still relate to it, and perhaps, more than ever before.

For me, the song isn’t just about longing and all the people whom I wished I was with, but more of how things changed and how we came to where we are today. It seems that everyone is moving on and going on to different stuff, and I just wonder how we got here. It’s odd how life works. When you’re in high school, you’re just gossiping about who likes who and thinking that it’s cute, though you wonder how long it would really last. But now, it’s more of who’s gotten engaged, or has gotten married, or couples that are thinking of tying the knot. That’s just the upside though. On the other hand, you’ve got friends who’ve separated and can no longer talk to each other, people who are in love with the wrong kind of people, and those who are broken; the ones who just can’t get over their previous lover (or keep going back to the ones from their past, for that matter) and continue making the same mistakes.

So, at the end of it, what’s this thing called love?

Krispy Kreem Donuts and Coffee

2007-02-21T09:03:00.000+09:00

Oh man… I don’t remember the last time I laughed myself silly. A good friend came over to crash the night a couple of weeks ago while he was in town and we were up late talking and making the dumbest jokes. It all started with him coming over with a dozen Krispy Kreem donuts and me making some late night coffee- a dangerous combo, I tell you.

The following is a brief run through of what our conversation was like:

Friend: You’re working tomorrow right? So you have to go to bed early right?

Me: Yes. I have to go to sleep early (*munches on a donut and sips coffee*) Let’s go to bed by 12 at least. .

Friend: Ok. We can’t stay up late then.

In bed by 11.58 pm.

Friend: Hey, we’ve got 2 minutes until 12, we can talk a bit more!

Me: Shut up! I need to sleep, man!

Friend: Come on, who’s going to talk to me?

Me: Shut up!

Friend: Ok, ok…

(2 minutes later, as Friend is almost asleep).

Me: Hey bro, what’s your dream?

Friend: Huh? You’re talking to me? I was almost asleep!!

That’s where it all started to go downhill. We ended up talking not only about the things we wanted to do in the future, but what everyone else seemed to be doing, casual sex vs. paid sex (or anything from the sex industry, for that matter), where we want to go away for holiday etc etc… and looking at pictures of friends over the internet (“What happened to him?? He looks so different now!”).

This was followed by intervals of don’t-leave-the-door-open-when-you-go-to-pee-cause-it’s-gross-and-you-let-the-cold-air-in and why-the-hell-don’t-you-have-a-heater?-are-you-stupid-or-something-for-not-getting-one-in-winter?

Oh man… I feel like having some Krispy Kreem donuts right now.

On reading these days

2007-02-13T09:41:00.000+09:00

Does anyone else have difficulty finding good books to read these days? I went to a second hand bookstore, noted for being the best place to find used English books (at reasonable prices) in Tokyo yesterday, only to find it so-so. There were the usual lot: Hegel, Nietzsche, Freud and Marx (quite interesting to see how many books by these thinkers usually end up in used bookstores, while works by Socrates, Gibran, Schopenhauer, or even a decent copy of ‘Sophie’s World’ are hard to find- logical deduction has it that the latter are probably the only works worth reading) in the philosophy section, Anne Rice and some other morbid individuals in the horror section, books with flaming swords/weapons/ fairies AND/ OR swooooooooning (yes, I mean swooooooooning), scantily clad women, in the arms of equally scantily clad bodybuilders illustrations in the fantasy/sci-fi/ romance section.

The fact that there was a bunch of American kids in front of the sci-fi/fantasy section, exclaiming at every third book they picked from the shelf (“Oh my god! They have this here too? You know that it’s in this book she discovers her father was a druid and that her mom was a priestess on Atlantis, right? Oh my god!”) did not help. It took me a lot of effort to restrain myself from smacking my head with a hardcover copy of Freud’s ‘The Interpretation of Dreams’. When they had cleared up, I approached the aforementioned section nervously, feeling a bit wary and awkward, like someone who’s about to go through the checkout of a chemist with a pack of constipation pills.

I went through the New Age phrase myself too as an adolescence, and had used to read romances about druids and Avalon, but when I make a mental list of all the books I used to read, I wonder how I could have ever read so much thrash. Some might want to soften the notion by saying that it’s what all teenagers do, that they go through weird no-so-easy-to-understand-phrases, but I think otherwise. Something more along the lines of, “What the hell was I thinking?”

Hence my current predicament; I can’t read books anymore. I try to, I really do, but nothing seems really exciting or interesting. I thought Eragon and it’s sequel was good, but I had to constantly remind myself that it wasn’t part of the Lord of the Rings trilogy or even connected to Star Wars, despite the extremely similar plot line, and Harry Potter grew up to become a ridiculous, rebellious teen who you feel like constantly smacking (good luck with winning the final battle over the Dark Lord with that kind of attitude). The DaVinci Code caught my attention, but after realising the sheer amount of fallacies it contains and how manipulative Brown’s writing style actually is, I felt that it didn’t deserve the amount of publicity it got (gotta give him credit for verisimilitude though).

At the moment, I’m reading some books by Diana Wynne Jones, and so far, they’ve been pretty good. To be honest, they make me feel like a kid again, especially on the trains in the morning on the way to work. With the iPod blasting in my ears and a good book in hand, things are just a wee bit more exciting everyday.

Home

2007-02-12T14:07:00.000+09:00

It’s an oddity, places and feelings. Call it premonition, gut feeling, or whatever you like, but I believe these feelings are important and something that you should actually listen to. It’s one of the main reasons why it took me so long to find an apartment here. Every place I had a look at so far had something wrong with it; something minor that didn’t really register on my conscience (if you exclude the building right next to the graveyard that I checked out- that was plain freaky), but touched raw nerves deep within the subconscience- like how the vibration from the bass of your neighbour’s stereo can annoy the hell out of you, rather than the noise of the music itself.

But when I went to see my current place, I knew that it was right, that it was the place, the moment I walked in through the door. There was something about how the space was divided/ arranged (it being more horizontal instead of vertical as most apartments here are) and the plain fact that it had sliding doors to divide the kitchenette from the actual bedroom itself that really got my attention. The fact that it had huge windows with a ledge to rest on was an added bonus, because it brought to mind possible scenarios of me sitting by the window in spring, reading as I sipped slowly from my cup of coffee.

Things went by really fast once I decided to move. Just the amount of paperwork and preparations that had to be completed beforehand was massive, but not overwhelming. In all honesty, I enjoyed every minute of it. Yes, there were the nights when I worried about how on earth I was going to attach the ceiling lamp on my own (I know how ridiculous it sounds, one loosing sleep over something that trivial, but I suck at anything electrical), but from the way I look at it, it’s a price for my independence. At the moment, nothing can beat the immense feeling of gladness and security that I had when I walked out of the real estate agent’s with the keys to my apartment in my pocket. It’s not something that can be described easily in words and adjectives, sadly. I remember sitting in the train after that, watching the buildings in a blur, feeling high with my head resting on the hand rest of the seat, as if I was drunk, thinking this is how things should be…

I’ve been at my current place slightly over a week now, and so far it’s been great. I still need to get a shelf for the microwave and am waiting to get the heater from my grandparents, but these are trivial things which can wait. The most important thing is that I finally have somewhere to go back to at the end of the day that is completely mine. And that (feeling) is heaven.

(Note: Thanks for the concern and message via Friendster, Sayang. I’m allright and things are going well now)

Raven

2007-01-31T09:33:00.000+09:00

Two days ago, as I got out of the house in the morning, I saw a raven fly across the sky. His black wings spread wide, he cawed loudly, as if to greet me. It was silent and his call echoed through the cold winter morn air and through the bare branches of trees. There’s a playground that I pass by on my way to work, and the raven’s call came raw and terrible through the bright-coloured slides and see-saws. It didn’t seem wrong then that such a cry should pierce through a children’s park; in fact I smiled at the sight of the bird and greeted him in turn with an acknowledging nod. Little did I know that he was trying to warn me of events to come and I watched with morbid fascination and a secret smile as he flew away.

I do not smile now.

They saw when it rains, it pours. It’s pouring now. Not on me, but on those whom I hold closest to my heart. In the past two days, I’ve received one bad news after another; each falling steadily and heavily like stones being slipped into a pitcher, grains of sand trickling away to the other end of an hourglass. I wait for the water in the pitcher to rise up and overflow; creating a mess on the table, slowly seeping through and rotting the tatami. I wait for the hour to pass.

I wait.

It hurts right now. It hurts that I can’t reach out and comfort you. It hurts that I can’t even hold you, not even for a second, because of the distance. I know that you’re being strong, and that hurts me even more because there is no need for this pain. I know that hard times come to teach us a lesson, but what is there to be learnt from all this?

I hurt.

An Ailment of the Mind

2007-01-25T11:56:00.000+09:00

Gah. This is bad. I think I’ve caught a bug or something. Nothing serious like the flu that’s been going around (touch wood), but something much deeper to due its psychological roots and the fact that it can be triggered by various external causes. I’ve realised that in extreme cases, it can become almost incurable as patients diagnosed with the symptom may lead empty lives of longing and half-achieved dreams. After a few days of observation and keeping notes on my behaviour, I’ve come to the following conclusion: it’s a condition that is a result of the changing weather and extreme drop in temperature, both variables which induce a feeling of extreme lethargy and a seeming inability to do nothing. These are just pretty words to describe one simple, age old condition: procrastination.

I’ve been late to work at one of my schools for two times in a row this week. Today was an extremely bad case as I got up at a quarter to 7. The first words out of my mouth as I looked at my alarm clock (which I now believe had failed to ring earlier), with growing panic, was “Oh fuck” The next ten minutes that followed had me changing and fixing my hair (I hate the fact that I can’t wear a beanie to work) before rushing off to the station. I would have gotten to work on time today if the trains didn’t stop suddenly in the middle of the tracks. There was an announcement to explain why the train had to make a sudden stop on emergency brakes, but I was too annoyed to pay more attention to it. All I can say at this stage is this: I’m glad I managed to have 8 hours of sleep last night. I would be a hell of an irritated individual this morning I wasn’t rested enough.

The amount of mishaps and train delays in winter is quite unnerving. I hate the fact that trains can be delayed or arrive late in this season- it’s no fun waiting on cold platforms or being stuck in hot, packed, stuffy trains either. Last Friday was especially bad because I had planned to meet up with Pete for morning coffee before work- I have a record of arriving late whenever we planned to meet up, so I made sure that I left the house early and everything- only to have the train stop at Shin-Nihombashi, just one stop from Tokyo. There was an announcement for passengers who were in a rush, saying that they could the take the subway to Tokyo instead of waiting for the train to run again. Thinking, hey, that’s not a bad option, I got off. Only to find out that the subway station was right at the other side of the station. And the fact that the subway to Tokyo arrived on the other end of the Tokyo Station does not help as well. I missed coffee that day, but got to work on time nonetheless that day…

Oh well. Just one of those things I’ve got to get used to. Can’t wait for summer to get back here though. Winter is definitely not my season.

Bloody Hell

2007-01-15T09:59:00.000+09:00

Bloody hell. I just finished reading the Life of Pi and almost burst into tears at the end of it on the train yesterday. I was so overwhelmed by the book and the significance of all the animal characters on it. The book affected me so much, that for the first few hours after reading it, I couldn’t figure out whether I loved it or hated it and the plot, especially the twist at the end, left me dumbstruck.

And the reason for it all? I thought the book was based on a true story. Goddamnit! I only found out a couple of minutes ago through google that it’s a work of pure fiction. I really need to start paying serious attention to details and actually think (not once, but many, many, many times) before taking it all in. This is as bad as the time I finished reading The Davinci Code, I tell you.

Gah. I feel like smacking the author up his head with a hardcover version of the novel, only to tell him that he did a great job. It’s a great novel, riveting (insert more adjectives here) and definitely worth reading.

Note: to all the people whom I talked to and convinced it was a true story, I’m sorry, but I can't help feeling that you guys aren't really surprised, coming from me and all.

Look Back. 1 Year

2006-12-18T17:03:00.000+09:00

Last Friday marked an entire year since we graduated in 2005. I had been half-dreading the approach of that day this year, even though it has technically just become a date now; just another day of the mundane calendar. I guess it would be much simpler to start this post by saying I’m surprised at how fast things have flown by since then. I still remember our last year at uni- how we crammed/panicked/brokedown over our dreaded final thesis due dates, last minute assignments and final exams. How me and Linda hung out for hours on end in her room in Hall 9, talking about how crazy it was that we were graduating soon, how endless final research seemed and how scared we were of the real world and how we didn’t really want life to start. I remember the sugar-high gatherings we had in Hall 2- how it started with something really innocent like making iced-chocolates in the middle of the night at the corner of the common room with Gaaya’s blender and how it escalated to making really, really REALLY CHOCOLATEY muffins (this was Gaaya’s idea to begin with and the rest of us got hooked) and proceeded to bake not only really, really REALLY CHOCOLATEY (substitute the usual ½ cup of chocolate buttons that is usually recommended in chocolate muffin recipes with the following: a large bar of Kit Kat- finely diced, an entire cup of chocolate buttons, as much sugar as you want and whatever chocolate that you can lay your hands on), but also cat-shaped pancakes glazed in honey/maple syrup. Chaos erupted even before the muffins were baked- we did sample as we mixed-and it’s safe to say (pardon my choice of words here) that we were on a high for at least four hours. After that, as we sat down on the couch and watched the World News at 11 (I still remember the major headline of the night- some terrorist attack on an international school in the Philippines) fatigue sank in- heavy and steady- into our now sugar-low bodies. I’m surprised that we didn’t suffer from actual withdrawal syndromes, thinking about it now.

I lost quite a few friends too in the summer 04 to the summer 05 period. Three whom I still think of constantly and am sometimes reminded painfully of, even though I know that I’m completely over that stage of wishing things had turned out differently and still wanting to make our friendship work out. I guess we just started growing apart in the summer and when I started to realise it, the seams were too large to be mended and the divide was just too great to be reached. Of course this is the most diplomatic and simple way of putting it, without placing blame on either party. But in a way, that’s what happened. When things first went sour, I just kept on asking myself what I could’ve done in another way and how to fix it, but it just came to a point where I couldn’t give you the things you wanted and expected of me anymore. I don’t know when or how it happened, but I reached my limit and snapped. I couldn’t listen to you bitch about your life and other people and all the shit that you were in and wonder how you got into such a mess when you actually leaped into the pit yourself. I couldn’t take sides because that’s not what I do, and in all honesty, I didn’t want to be on your side because I thought (and still think) that you were wrong. And I guess what hurt me the most was the slander- the untruthful things about other people, my friends that you said. From discriminative racial comments to simple, false claims like “you know he slept with her…” of people that I didn’t even know. I know I should have been more direct and honest from the start (“Stop trying to be empathetic or sympathetic all the time, because you just end up becoming pathetic”) and stopped defending you, but I wasn’t and I think I failed you as friend then because in a way, that caused you to believe otherwise in me. But I know that now.

Sorry about the sudden negative outburst. That was just something that had been lurking at the back of my mind for quite a while- it’s about time I let it out and let go and move on. I need to come clean. Back to my otherwise cheery, quirky original post (insert cheeky face)

Looking back now, I realise that I’ve grown a lot since I first entered uni. I think I found myself a bit more there- I won’t say that I know what I am, but I have a rough idea of what I’m not, and I think that does say something by itself. I realised that I fight more for what I want these days; I just can’t let opportunities and chances slip by. My no-nonsense-tolerance has also reached an all-time high. If any of you thought I was kinda extreme as a student, boy, you guys are in for a shock. LOL.

I started 2006 as a fresh graduate- not knowing what I really wanted to do or where I wanted to go. I had a few long term goals, but my short term goals were mostly centered around getting enough hours at the bar to pay rent for the flat and looking for jobs in Welly or Auck and later on (as desperation kicked in) WHEREVER. I was ready to pack up and try my luck back home- there was no way I’d allow myself to work in the bar for more than a year, just so that I could stay in the country, even if it could help out with getting PR and all that- it just wasn’t worth it. Then I got the offer. I found myself here. Totally unexpected and without any plans.

And at the moment, things are finally looking up.

Visualise...

2006-11-29T09:43:00.000+09:00

I’m on island far, far away from here. I’m on the beach and the sand is white and the water is blue and green; it’s so bright that I can’t stare at it head on because the radiance is that of looking at sapphires and emeralds in the sun. I want to touch the water and splash it into my face- I want to feel its coolness, but at the same time I’m afraid because it’s so shimmery- what if I find myself scooping diamonds instead?

I’m wearing soft cotton pants instead of black slacks and I’m barefoot for once; I flex my toes to confirm. There are no black leather shoes which bind my feet and a pair of jandals lie not too far before me in a discarded heap, one on top another, like a pair of folded hands; weary and forgotten. The sun is on my back and face and all over me, like an insistent, lover, calling me to lie back into the sand and breeze to sleep. I’d give into it, if it were not for the notepad on my lap and pen in my hand. For now, I must write and forget. All the tales and worlds within me are grasping and struggling- longing to be free from the prison of my mind- longing to be molded into their own flesh, to be given form and born into the world of print and parchment, to come alive to others beside me. There’s the princess who fears her marriage to a dragon, there’s the quiet, unassuming man who became a raven, there’s the one angel who revealed the true meaning of creation...their stories bleed into one another, like ivy growing without the attention of a gardener, spiraling out of reach and control, choking, consuming the garden. It’ll be hard at first, but I’ll spin my web slowly, weaving one thread at a time.

I look up and the image is gone. For I’ve arrived at the station and when I get off, I’m greeted by Autumn, telling me that she’s leaving, now that she’s coloured the leaves in hues of gold and red, preparing them for the arrival of Winter. He will grow weary of the bright colours soon after he arrives and will strip them in a rampage of snow and bitter wind- he is an impatient old man, short of temper and fiery tantrums. I pulled my coat around myself for even though we exchange no verbal words, any conversation with the Lady Autumn always leave me feeling cold. As if to mock me, she reminds me that it’s a bright day and gives me a quick peck on the cheek before leaving.

The image is gone.

The little list of ecentricities

2006-11-27T16:38:00.000+09:00

This is amusing. I always knew that I had a few eccentricities, but I’ve never compiled them before and thought that it would be a cool idea to list down a few in a post. Oh well, it’s time to be honest about things. Have a browse through my list.

I have a strong dislike of the following items/situations:

· Anything that’s cute and cuddly and is not alive. Especially stuffed animals. I can’t stand them. The only ones that I make an exception for are Mr. Black and Mr. Paddington, but mostly because I’ve had them for so long. Otherwise, I personally believe anything that cute or adorable is up to no good and has a modus operandi of its own (world domination etc). Remember Puss in Boots from Shrek 2? Cute kitty, but you don’t want to scratch his chin in the wrong way.
· Disneyland. It’s a fun place to be once you get used to it, but it’s eerie how happy you feel when you first walk through the gates and how your cheek muscles lift up by themselves- even though you’ve got no experience of tai chi whatsoever (hehehe. I just thought of another ad-gimmick for Disneyland, “Who needs to a face lift when you can come to our amusement park and get your face up naturally?”). It’s artificial happiness, I tell you. And subliminal messages are probably inserted in the background music Buy a pair of Mickey Mouse head piece set because it’ll make your life better. And the charade of Disney characters singing “It’s a small world after all”? Oh no no no no… Having said that though, you’ve got to have some respect for Mickey Mouse. There’s a rodent that’s almost 80 years old, does not look his age (or anything like a mouse, for that matter), dresses in button-shorts and still speaks in a high-pitched happy voice (yikes. I’m shivering just at the thought of it).
· Happy, cheerful songs. Christmas carols with references to what a joyful season it is and why we should all love each other give me gooseflesh. Add bright, bubbly people singing this, dressed in equally bright, colourful clothing (to reflect their bright, bubbly personality, no doubt) and you’ll see me bolting the other way. Come to think of it, overly done decorations give me a fright too. I think this explains why I got a shock this morning when I walked into the staff room, just to find a Christmas tree at one end and the two pot plants decked with thistle and fairy lights- spoooky…

Below are just some miscellaneous facts:

· I laugh at horror movies and they make me smile. This is a big one. I fondly recall (note the use of words here), watching Kill Bill Volume 1 and laughing towards the end when the Bride massacres the assassins in the club. But I don’t like slasher/thrashy movies in general though. Just a handful of good ones with actual story lines behind them.
· I like dark things and don’t find gothic literature and art (along the lines of Edgar Allen Poe) disturbing. It actually takes my mind of things at times. I love Norse mythology with its treacherous deities and tragedies. My taste in art is odd and quite shocking at times. I like work by individuals like H. R Giger, Matt Mahurin, and the visuals used in the Brom series calendar. It used to disturb me, how much I like these little dark things (there was the period where I wondered if it could be abnormal, but I think that fact’s been long-established), but I’m ok with it now. The way I look at it, I’m just more honest with my darkness (hmm… don’t like the way this last bit came out... it’s not too positive, but I’m not writing about my positive aspects, now am I?).

So that’s my list. I don’t know how else to conclude this post, so I’ll finish it with the very random “Heh. You learn something new everyday!”

The price we pay for a pretty template.

2006-11-20T16:41:00.000+09:00

Ok. It’s here! It’s up and running! My blog! Hahaha, I’m quite excited about this actually. I’ve been looking for a good template online (I mean, where else would you look for a template, right?) for sometime now, and to be honest, I didn’t find one that really appealed to me until I came across this one at http://www.bloggertemplates.org/ Pretty cool aye.

I’m still working out the kinks for this page though. HTML is kinda confusing- I’m too worried about erasing some bits because I never know what would happen then (imagine if the graphics on this page became a shcoking pink! yikes *shakes head fervently*)

Some of the kinks include:

the font colour for the day and date of posts- they're kinda dark and a bit difficult to see at the moment.
comments. I know where the comment section is (next to the day and date of each post- it’s the zero or number next to it), but I’m not too sure of how to let people know how they can access it.
The font colour for the day and date of posts- they’re kinda dark and a bit difficult to see at the moment.
The ‘pull’ bar at the top of the page. It looks cool and is pretty impressive, but the ‘about’ (about the author) link is linked to nothing (heh. so much for calling it a link). I’ve got to work out this bit too.

But other than that, it seems to work well. At least I got most of the Spanish out of the background!

The First Five Seconds

2006-11-16T23:14:00.000+09:00

Intro ( Electric guitar and fast drums)

It’s become a routine. Running. Rushing. Taking two steps up at once. Getting to work on time. Eating my raisin-butter-bread stick on the train or platform (this really depends on when I get to the train station. If I’ve just missed the latest train, the platform is usually empty and I’m first in line, so a quick brekkie doesn’t hurt. If I get to the platform just as the train arrives, I hop in with the bread stick in my mouth, munching and being completely oblivious to other people around me * insert cheeky face*).

( Slow steady electric violin overlapped with some DJ sound effects at the back)

But today, as I sank down into an empty seat on the train to work, I realised one thing: I love this. I love being here and being on the move (though it does get overwhelming and tiring at times) and actually having something to do. I love finally having an actual job and earning an income (underline the former, highlight it, and add large question marks -??- which are also synonym for ‘what the fuck’ behind the word ‘love’. I’m still divided on the working bit. But I think that people would generally agree that it is nice to have money deposited into your account on a monthly basis though). I do have a fear in years to come, this so-called ‘love’ will develop into a gah-I’m-a-bloody-workaholic-with-no-life, but at the moment, I’m enjoying it and flying high. To quote Anya, “I have a place in society now.”

(Music drops and becomes slightly darker and slow. Mostly electric. Suspense)

There are ups and downs though, as with everything in life, but so far, nothing too serious has happened (if you overlook the fact that I did get arrested once on my way to work as I was mistaken for an illegal immigrant when I first got here, hence enforcing my belief that dressing in all black is not a good idea, and the hassle we got into before we started flatting- always ask first!).

(Music picks up again and reaches its peak. Fast electric violin and piano with drums)

I guess the thrill of being here is mainly to do with the environment I’m in. Japan is just so different and alien to me at times. Things here are really different and at times, crazy, but having said that, I’ve got to admit that I find the culture here really interesting and eye-opening. Gaaya once remarked that the emails from me were starting to sound like commentaries from some discovery show, and I was quite pleased to hear that actually, because I am aiming to work for the National Geographic at some stage.

I take pleasure out of the little things about life here. Like looking at people on trains and wonder what’s going through their heads (probably thoughts like Damn damn damn I shouldn’t have spent the entire night drinking. I wouldn’t have had to sleep in that dodgy capsule hotel if I didn’t miss the last train home- this from some tired looking salaryman in a crumpled suit and Did the wind blow my fake eyelashes off? Is my nose powdered just 2 layers thinner than that of a geisha?- this from some potential teenage Harajuku goth queen).

End (Slow guitar)

It’s strange how things have worked out so far. Just the other night, Yoriko and I were talking about uni and what all our friends are doing now and our jobs and life in general when it hit me- this is just the beginning. This is like the first five seconds of a TV show’s theme song. No one can tell if the episode about to be aired will be a good one with major changing plots for the leading characters or if it will be the episode that got people talking and boosted its ratings by 50 % or vice versa (For all we know, it could suck like every single episode of Lost: Season 2 where nothing ever happened on the island, except for scantily clad people running round and round the entire island, chasing after one another- wait a minute…woops… that’s not Lost. It must be some shocking, graphically explicit, Not suitable for viewers under the restricted age of 18 movie. Wonder how something that carnal found itself into this blog, shocking aye). But going back to my main point: the theme song does determine the feel and tone of the show. It gets your attention. It makes you sit and pay homage to our modern pagan altar a.k.a. the television and sacrifice your time.

So this is where I am now. The first 5 seconds of my theme song. Note that this show hasn’t even started yet. It’s going to be a blast!

(Cymbals for the effect)