Sleepless Nights 90 - The Soup Kitchen

Sleepless Nights 89 - The Chick.

Sleepless Nights 88 - Coffee and 2013

No, I can't understand shit either. The translation, however, is pretty fucking boss and the story surrounding the song is even more... Boss. I like that word. Boss. Also, long post ahead, just a heads up.

Sleepless Nights 87 - Blade

I suppose I really do like older women.

*

I have a scar on my left index finger, close to the proximal interphalangeal joint. I cut myself bad with a fucking machete when I was a kid. I still remember every detail about it, for some reason. I saw my Mom sharpening a knife on a whetstone and I thought 'Hey, I can do that shit'. So I took the machete out and got to work. I must've done a bloody good job because I didn't even realise I cut myself immediately. It was a pretty deep cut and while medical attention would've been needed, I was more afraid of my Mom finding out. So I tied some pieces of tissue hard against the wound and pretended nothing happened.

I remember, with precision, how I got every single scar on my body. They're like video snippets that I never manage to delete from memory. I have a scar in the middle of my forehead from the time I slammed the metal kitchen door against my head. It wasn't intentional, I simply had a bit of a brain malfunction at the time. I was running (For no reason, of course, people don't believe me when I say my soul is a spirited one) towards the kitchen when I thought that I could reach the door handle, open and close it in one move without decreasing speed. I'm not very bright, see, so what happened was that I misjudged the breadth of said door, yanked it open anyway and received divine retribution right smack in the centre of my forehead. Hence the slitlike scar.

My knees are scarred to bits from countless falls; each of them immortalised in memory. The biggest one I received while falling down and having a jutting piece of stone lance itself a quarter-way through my knee. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt. I was running (Again with the running) from nothing, come to think, it was just my way of entertaining myself. I used to get so... Lost in worlds that I created. I still do and I think that's my biggest achievement to date. I kept the child in me alive, well and thoroughly corrupted to the point of no return.

Then there're the self inflicted ones. I guess those'll always remain a mystery when it comes to the 'why' aspect. I honestly did not have any motivation to do it. I just simply did. One possible explanation was that I needed to understand the reason why other people did it. However, one might argue that surely one cut is enough? Why did I 'graduate' to molten plastic and so on? I remember my Mom's face when she first saw the scars. Putting aside the fact that I might be over analysing it, she didn't look angry. At all, which was surprising to me. She just looked very... Befuddled. I don't think she knew how to handle something like that, her kids were suppose to have some sort of basic logic, after all. At the same time, I think that she was slightly upset over the fact that she only found scars and not wounds. I think I wounded her ego a bit there.

I have no reason to talk about this, really. It popped up, just like everything else.

*

I'm in the Endocrinology department and today I met with one of the first doctors who actually made me want to be a doctor.

She was our teacher two years back when we first ventured into the seemingly fucked up world of clinical medicine. I use the term fucked up lightly because to be honest, the only other phrase I can use is 'masochist education centre'. It's a wonder how none of us quit.

I joke a lot about having a crush on her. Too much maybe, that might explain the weird looks but I digress. For a while, even I asked myself if it's just a fucking joke or am I seriously falling into some sort of inescapable abyss of the insane. She was a beast. I'm not even fucking kidding. I can't kid about this shit. We'd go into class, get a new asshole torn and leave with our tails in between our legs. She took my confidence, threw it into a blender, coated the pulp in chilli powder and concentrated acid and then proceeded to shove it so far up my ass, my liver burned.

And God bless her for that. I can count on one hand how many people I am truly thankful for and she makes the list. Today I met her again. I was so bloody desperate to achieve some sort of level recognition and if this was the middle ages, I would've chopped off the head of the smartest kids in class and skullfucked them just to get noticed. Then this exchange took place: (She will be referred to as the Grand Beast)

Grand Beast: You... What was your name again?
Me: Zufar.
GB: What?
Me: Zu-
GB: Whatever, nevermind.
Me: [Internally screaming]

Okay, that might have been fabricated. I don't internally scream. [Internally scream]

In all seriousness. I wasn't dejected. A little maybe, but I attribute it to the whole 'Why the fuck can't you even pronounce a simple fucking name' thing I always have. So I thought about it for awhile and the whole maturity-wisdom-sage thing kicked in and I made sense of the whole thing. This might take a paragraph or two.

We can't help but seek ways to better ourselves. This comes in many forms, obviously, like everything else and it differs from person to person. Personally, I hate feeling stupid. That's the reason why I like to be in the company of people that are so much smarter than me. I feel small in their presence, I constantly feel like I am merely a shadow to their mind and while it tends to drive me batshit insane at times, it has a much greater benefit as a whole. I take my pride and my envy and I pitch it against these monumental behemoths of persons and it's very clear that I fall short by miles. And I condition myself to not want to be envious of other people but not in a noble sense. It is, truthfully, a very twisted way of living. I want to be able to not envy them because I want proof that I am so much better.

So when this aforementioned she-demon of a doctor enters the picture, the same thing happens. Here is the most intellectually intimidating creature I have ever had the pleasure to meet and she is basically telling me day in and day out that I will always fall short. Of course, in reality, she doesn't use this term but that's how I saw it through my diseased eyes. It became a challenge that I could not resist and it ate me up.

Fast forward two years and I meet her once again. I have managed to learn a thing or two and became a sliiiiightly better student and she didn't seem as insanely intolerant anymore. She was still far more accomplished, obviously, that much is definite.

The problem is that I tend to romanticise everything. I've always, always had this problem. I take an event that's not even slightly life-changing and then I proceed to create these brilliant (Am I allowed to call my creations brilliant? Seems somewhat... Narcissistic. Wait, I am exactly that) stories around it so that it could conform to my crazy fucking expectations.

It's good to know I'm not obsessed with some thirty over years old married lady. Still, she is up to this day, one of the most brilliant doctors I've met. I mean she managed to take medicine, something I previously loathed, and presented it in a way that I could appreciate. It's like taking dust and convincing people that it's actually the soul of the universe.

You gotta be fucking awesome to do that, man.

*EDIT: I would, of course, appreciate not alerting the Grand Beast about the existence of this post. While when analysed, it is shown to be full of praise, I doubt she would consider that over say, running me over with her chariot.

**EDIT: I would also appreciate not having the term Grand Beast thrown around. Or she-demon.

Sleepless Nights 86 - Where Did These Cobwebs Come From?

*

From neglect! From utter abandonment of your one true love! I stood by you all those years and you left me to befriend spiders and creatures of the void!

But I didn't mean to... I've just been busy... I underestimated the austerity of my schedule, believe me love, it is not without reason.

Hah! Your words mean nothing to me, not anymore. It stung, oh you better believe it did. Leaving me for all of the hers you now have in your life, it hurt but I stand here before you with every remnant of my compassion incinerated. I have naught for you but indifference, I grant not even hate to you.

Oh come now, you're overreacting, obviously. It's only been, what... Three weeks? Others have buried theirs without a single regret. I mean really, six months? Even more? Compared to them I take damn good care of you, little one.

They do not share our love. They care for nothing, their words are volatile, useless even. They want others to read what they write but I... I share your secrets, I have tasted your moments of brilliance and I have withstood your eras of delusion. And you left me. For them. The other ladies.

Look, I'm writing again, aren't I? Isn't that a good thing? I've been meaning to write, I really have, it's just that... Well, yeah, okay, I might've spent a little too much time with the others but it's... I'll always come back to you.

More lies. So much lies and you pride yourself in being an honest man. Go on then. Write what you want but know that you've reduced me to a simple piece of parchment, colourless and devoid of character.

Right. You'll be fine tomorrow then?

Yeah, I'm feeling a bit unloved now if you know what I mean.

Relax, I will never leave you.

*

You know, I've been wondering. Who exactly came up with the idea of spin dry? Who actually went ahead and shrugged his shoulder and thought 'Maybe if this piece of wet cloth is put in a barrel that spins fast enough... Yes... Maybe...'. Or did he see some young maiden that was running around with a wet piece of ass cloth and thought that if she ran faster...

Just a passing thought.

Internal Medicine has successfully raped me into silence. I am now relatively normal. I wake up in the early mornings (Mornings! Me! Can you even begin to imagine such blasphemy!) and I go to class and I come back a little after two. It's a routine. Holy humping Hanuman, I'm following a routine for once...

Pictured: Hanuman. Not pictured: Holy humping Hanuman.

Winter is here at long last. The first wave of rain has made its descent and well... One must play in the rain before it gets too cold. Or before they turn to rock and try to fuck your skull in. I suddenly find myself having quite a lot of sweaters and I'm pretty sure some of them are summoned from the hellrift itself. I can still sleep in boxers but this will not last long and well... Let's hope that this Winter is kinder than the last.

Hahaha. A kind Winter. Fucking hell, what am I smoking?

It's actually past my bedtime. Holy shit, I have a bedtime. It's like I'm slowly morphing into a responsible human being. This sucks massive flaming balls.

*

I have quit Nanowrimo. I am deeply, deeply distressed over this fact but it was a necessity. I had to choose between being a serious fucking student and writing; unfortunately for myself I chose the former. There are surprisingly little words that I can use to describe this whole shebang. It's like a cut inflicted on a diabetic foot. I can only hope that it doesn't fester.

I just heard that one of my best and closest friends is getting married. I think this is the first time in my life I've ever been this genuinely glad for someone else. It's a strange feeling. I should ponder upon this but oh look- I CAN'T BECAUSE I HAVE TO FUCKING STUDY LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING.

I have little time of my own nowadays. It's not bad per se but... It's just very different and I've never been a person that's kind to change. I find myself talking about general stuff with total fucking strangers and it sucks because they believe that I'm finally getting out of my fucking fuckshell and they're fucking fuckappy. I don't know, man, it's just a sudden transition and I don't know how to deal with this shit. I mean I get a lot of shit done nowadays, I actually feel slightly more responsible but it's just endless. Talking and talking and listening and laughing and pretending to laugh and talking some more and the next thing I know, I'll be old and tired and depressed because I could have been so much more...

Yeah, I'm going to bed now.

Sleepless Nights 85 - Technological Upgrade

My knee hurts. I can't find words to describe it adequately.

Sleepless Nights 84 - Dogs.

Sleepless Nights 83 - Older.

Sleepless Nights 82 - Physical Attraction

Sleepless Nights 81 - I'm Sorry I Abandoned You, Blog

Sleepless Nights 80 - Agora; The Ultimate Rage Inducing Film

Only Mono can calm the flaming fury of my heart.

Sleepless Nights 79 - I Only Play Games That Allow Me To Kill

Picture unrelated. But it's a motherfucking badass Tibetan Mastiff. Pity they're so bloody expensive.

Sleepless Nights 78 - Quitting Smoking and Failing Miserably.

Sleepless Nights 75 - The Light.

Sleepless Nights 74 - Butthurt Much?

Sleepless Nights 73 - Patience.

Trials and tribulations? Don't fucking kid me, son, there are things far more insane that'd fuck up your life. Compared to these things, exams are child's play. Diseases are a walk in the fucking park. Deaths are just another occurrence that could be brushed away by having a good night's sleep.

Sleepless Nights 72 - Perihal Pramugari-Pramugari.

Yes, post kali ni dalam Bahasa Melayu. Mengapa? Serious la bro, kalau kau nak aku jawab dengan tulus hati, aku jawab kau ni manusia yang retard lagi cacat. Suka aku la nak tulis macam mana pun, perlukah aku ada sebab? That one's for you, you damn shallow cunt.

Apa-apa pun, aku dengan terus terang cakap yang aku ni bukan jenis yang kaki naik flight. Kalau dari Melaka ke KL pun nak naik flight tu agak drastic dan gila fucker aku ibaratkan. Tapi aku rasa aku dah cukup pengalaman bila nak bincang bab-bab tidur kat altitude 32,000 dan secara tidak langsung aku pun dah khatam bab-bab pramugari ni.

Dalam filem Chungking Express karya director China Wong Kar Wai yang aku rasa cukup awesome dan epic, salah satu karakter dia berkata "On every flight, there's always a stewardess that you'd want to seduce". Okay. Yes, mamat ni memang power direct tapi aku kena amek chance dan kata itu semua bullshit semata-mata. Or flight yang aku naik semua selama ni flight jenis kanineh.

Yes, muka semua manis belaka. Berlesung pipit, mata bujur dan cerah. Yes, semuanya ada, bak kata orang yang arif dalam terminologi porno "Bubble Butt" yang memang buat aku pandang dan terliur macam binatang buas. Yes, buah dada setiap satu buat aku ingin tuang kuah rojak satu botol, tabur kacang yang diblend dan tala seperti aku tala rojak buah Ah Chye kat Gurney Drive. Tapi kalau nak seduce atau tackle... Aku tak pasti. Idaman aku berhenti di takat buat cuci mata sahaja. Kenapa? Pasal ura-ura jalanan yang mengatakan diorang ni kaki romen dengan apa-apa yang berbatang dan berduit? Fuck no man, I don't give a fuck about that. Aku rasa manusia yang daif dan berperangai 'holier than thou' je boleh cakap macam tu. Yang sebenarnya, aku frust dan stress bila bercakap dengan diorang. Macam robot. Mechanical. Macam berborak dengan kereta BMW Z3. Memang cantik, anggun dan sebagainya tapi untuk dibuat bicara, hampeh. Mungkin kau anggap aku ni biol lagi badigol kerana diorang tu tengah buat kerja dan kerja diorang bukan macam GRO kat kelab malam yang memang lancar dan manis mulut tapi last-last wallet kau kosong. Maybe you're right. Maybe aku ni jenis yang psycho dan realiti aku tak ramai yang boleh accept.

Thing is, bila bercakap tentang benda-benda yang cukup best dan lazat nak dibuat angan-angan time berak atau kat kelas, ada a set of things yang patut ada. Rupa fizikal tak cukup sama sekali untuk aku, macam mana power pun imaginasi aku (Power? Wak lu power.), kalau aku dah tengok minah yang lawa dan cun meletup tu cakap beef or chicken berkali-kali, otak aku terus kena assfuck.

Pastu, sebab ada stigma yang semua pramugari ni cantik dan manis macam air tebu di hari panas jembalang, ada pramugari yang gumuk, busuk dan make-up macam hantu cina bajet dia lah yang paling hot. Dialah segalanya. Tak kisah lah kalau muka dia macam cave troll dalam the Lord of the Rings pun, dialah yang paling cun. Kalau duduk tepi dia boleh terbakar jubur pasal dia hot gila. Aku tak kisah kalau sesiapa dalam dunia ni bajet hot. Aku pun bajet hot kadang-kadang bila tengah mandi. Tapi please, jangan la pandang aku pastu buat muka. Aku pandang kat kau pasal aku heran macam mana manusia macam kau boleh dilahirkan. Chromosome macam terlebih lima puluh je. Tangan extra yang ada time lahir tu sembunyi tang mana?

Sekarang, pasal aku baru balik Egypt (20 jam punya travel, mana tak gila) aku dah tak tau apa nak tulis. Fuck it. Aku dah balik neraka.

Eargasm of the day: Bukan pramugari.

Sleepless Nights 71 - The Elusive Tummy Emerges.

Sleepless Nights 70 - Cosplay.

I accidentally tripped and fell into the potentially brain-cell killing side of the internet. I'm not sure if it was the sleep-deprivation that magnified the severity of the blow but holy fucking cuntnuggetry....

Fuck, I think I'm still stuck in here.

Sleepless Nights 69 - The Edge.

Yeah, I think that the last fight scene in Avatar: The Last Airbender is probably as good as it gets. Motherfucking God mode.