No Complaints Here / Welcoming Milady Winter.

Hmm... Am I the only one who's seeing pornographic photos on my Facebook feed? Or has this been going on for quite awhile now...

My face when.

What the fuck 'Loli Love' stop making me feel fucking awkward while I surf Facebook.

You see what I did there? I gave you a name.

*

Well our Lady Winter makes her entrance quite splendidly, I must say. After all, who in their right minds could rightfully complain about three days of endless blissful rain? No, I'm serious, I'm not being sarcastic there. Rain is fucking awesome.

It's funny really how people could die when the water supply is cut or something and then when it rains, they run for their lives as if it's sulphuric acid falling from the sky. I don't quite know what it is I love about the rain to be honest, but it just makes a day perfect. Cleansing. Yeah, maybe that's it, it just cleanses the fucked up world we live in. Also, streets are empty. Fuck yeah, rain.

Goddamit, this!

If I have a kid, I'd fucking force him to go play in the rain and act like a total retard. Sure, he might get pneumonia but meh, nothing like a life threatening disease to remind him of good times, eh.

Ah fuck, I miss home so much.

Sleepless Nights 55 - The Human Race.

I had a talk with me friend past two days or so and we came to a point where we talk about society in general. I don't think it's big fucking news that I have a deep seeded hatred towards society and its everyday ethics but then she said that the human race, us, we're all essentially good and kind. It is under circumstances like money and greed and shite that makes us bad.

I told her I've never heard of worse bullshit.

The way I see it, the human race is pretty much divided into three equal categories. The good, the evil and the ones who dabble in a bit of both. There's no other classifications when it comes to it, race and religion does fuck all when viewed from afar.

The reason why I have come to hate society today is that it forces us to create a mask of superficiality in which we are told that it's for the best. We're told that we should hide who we are, wear clothes that everybody else wears, speak like everybody else, do what everybody else does and then in an ingenious plot, they labelled this act as politeness. Acceptance. Tolerance. Failure to do this makes you a bad person, failure to do this gives everybody else the green light to patronise you, to insult you and to look at you as a subhuman species. How does this relate to the division of the human race? Simple. It blurs the line.

You tell a good person and an evil person to act the way you tell them to, with guidelines and rules. Then you further impose this on the basis that failure to do as told will eventually result in their apprehension and troubles with the law. So now you have everybody acting the same way, wearing the same clothes, loving the same things and it's all spiffy. Then you get involved with a person, close the door from which society could no longer keep an eye on you and get surprised at the fact that this person that was the same with everybody else just a few minutes ago, is now a fucking demon.

I love watching the news because of that. The newscaster tells the story of a man who massacred his wife and children and suddenly everybody acts so surprised and they say 'What a crazy world we live in nowadays'. They fail to realise that tomorrow they're going to work or study with the same people that might be thinking of bombing their local fast food restaurant.

I remember when I was a kid, I wanted to become an archaeologist. As in a real one that goes around looking for fossils and shit. Then when I told everybody, they told me that there are no more archaeologists in the world any more because all the world's mysteries have been solved. I as a kid believed in that wholeheartedly and most probably a bit too easily. Then I grew up, not having an aspiration in life. My point is that it's all about stability nowadays. Parents, especially, go batshit insane when their kids say they want to do something that's not professional i.e. Medicine, Law, Architecture, shit like that. It's sane yes, but then again, there's some sort of tragedy there, maybe something that will never be appreciated. Maybe one day the kids of today would look at a life of hardship and wonder what that'd be like. Before getting into Medicine I went to some education fair or something to see the choices in arts. So I met this guy, and we talked at length and he seemed happy I wanted to do arts. Then he asked me for my SPM results, to which I replied and he looked at me as if I was a three year old retard. He said that with my results, I should go into some Science based course instead of Arts. He went on rambling etcetera and I realised that what the fuck happened to what I want, eh?

Hypocrisy. That's the biggest problem nowadays. No one is spared from it and at the same time, everybody hates it.

*

The romance novella is surprisingly coming along pretty well. I've nearly finished the first part of what I hope to be a trilogy, so yeah, I guess that's a good thing.

Over My Dead Brain.

'Ah, nobody reads what I write anyway.'

'So you took it down?'

'Yeah, I mean what's the use of writing in a blog when nobody reads it? A waste of time innit?'

'But that's three years of your memoirs gone. You don't appreciate it?'

'It's just words to me man, quit fucking around.'

Just words.

I've realised that there's a sharp decline in the amount of people who blogs nowadays, or people who write for that matter. Compared to when I first came here, everybody seemed to have a blog and everybody was whoring it. Read it, they'd say, read the fuck out of it the way you'd read the fuck out of Zooey Deschanel's tits. So I did, and in the event that they did write something I'd appreciate, I continued reading. If they don't, then I'll ignore whatever the fuck that was written. I actually thought it was a good thing. People have found out that writing is a wonderful thing to do.

Then, these people who constantly shove the fact that they have a blog in my face said something like 'It's just words'. Just words. Let me tell you something about writing. About these meagre words that you could brush off. Without it, you are nothing. Without it, the human civilisation would have been demolished as soon as it started. Without it, there could be no education. Without these words, wisdom would never be propagated.

I wrote this blog when I first realised that I was going to have to spend six years in a strange land - Which I know now as the void in which hope implodes - and I thought, hey, why not document my stay. Hence, it has become a memory storage mechanism. When I get fucked bad, I actually go through the archives and read what I wrote in the past and it comforts me. I could see how I've grown, I could see the progress that I made. I saw how I no longer dwell on the minor fuckupperies. It's like I've read a book about how I've matured. Written by me. And read by me. Holy shit, that's a bit twisted is it not?

Trippy.

I'm pretty sure that normality does not apply to me - And some say sanity, but pfft, what do those people know, eh? - but writing is... Sacred, I cannot think of another way to describe it. It heals, it mesmerises, it pretty much does everything. You're feeling depressed? Write, you gain much insight from it. You're feeling a tad bit bouncy and joyous? Write, you immortalise the moment. You're feeling angry and wrathful? Write, you can get the satisfaction of murdering whatever that's pissing you off in cold blood. That's the reason why I treasure my books so much - Obsessive was the word they used. Was. - and I have a damn good reason for it. So when you say it's 'Just words' I take the phrase as a personal insult. It's blasphemy of the highest degree even.

Overall, that's why I'm appalled when people could just disregard whatever it is that they wrote and could simply push it aside without any prior thought. When you could do that to something that's so personal, so goddamned intimate, pushing everything else away would be quite the easy task wouldn't it. But of course, I doubt that any of you even put half the effort when you write about meeting some hot broad from across the street and fabricate the fact that you took her home and introduced her to 'The Beast of the Heavens' that your zipper could never seem to leash. Yeah, who am I kidding, I'm the obsessed one here, aren't I.

Why yes, now that you've mentioned it, every time I  have to pee, I need to restrain myself maximally. Oh you know, just in case the Beast runs wild and causes the apocalypse. More tea?

It's fucked up because some of you - No, really, I'm not just trying to make a point here - have the talent to write amazing shit that impresses me, and I don't think I need to explain how not easily impressed I am. Sure, I'm not exactly certified to judge but then I know how hard it is to write, I know how frustrating it is when the words just don't flow and I know what a bitch it is to proofread your own story. Then I see people who have unlimited imagination, amazing story-line generation capabilities and PERFECT GRAMMAR - I hate tenses - and they disregard their fucking talents. I know, I'm not supposed to force anybody into something they chose not to do but Jesus fuckstick on a trampoline...

... Jesus fuckstick on a trampoline according to Google. The future is safe.

Sigh. Fuck it, who am I trying to convince anyway.

*

Euginio Merino's Stairway to Heaven (1975)

This... Has apparently angered a lot of people only recently, which is funny considering that the sculpture thirty-six years old. Never mind, always something new to find out and declare holy war upon.

The argument:

Depa lani bukan main lagi nak bagi semua orang tengok kita (Muslim) ni macam anjing. Boleh dipijak, boleh buat puki. Tengok tu, siapa paling atas? Yahudi laknatullah! Sebarkanlah gambar ni kawan-kawan semua, orang-orang beriman semua. Kita kena prihatin.

"Nowadays they're trying their best to fuck around with us, trying to show the world that we're dogs. They're trying to seed the though that we can be kicked around, we can be oppressed. Look at it, who's at the very top? The Jews! Spread this."

My Point of View:

I think this is the only time that calls for the use of the forbidden word. I shall do so.

LOLWUT?

Please. Everybody just calm the motherfuck down. Okay? We shall do this in a civilised manner. If I'm still a candidate for lynching, then at least let me get me Plasma-Buster 9000 ready.

1) You see what you want to see.

I agree, the first time I saw this, the only thing in my mind was this: What the hell is that... I don't deny it, the little bit of religious feud is sparked in me, just like what I feel when somebody says 'Keling' or 'Bau kari'. What differentiates me and the others is that I actually had the sense to do a little bit of research and well, it shed some light.

It shows a Muslim, Christian and Jew in the respective states of prayer. The holy books are also inverted in which the Jew is holding the Qur'an, the Christian holding the Torah and the Muslim having a Bible beside his head. What does this mean? Honestly man, I see religious harmony.

'What about the fucking hierarchy?!'

Well, say we try to invert it. The Muslim at the very top, the Jew in the middle and the Christian at the bottom. Gravity will then politely proceed to fuck everything up. What I am trying to point out is that sure, you allow yourselves to see that this sculpture is offensive and provocative and hence you immaturely act as imbeciles. Why the obsession with symbols and hidden meanings?

2) Allowing yourselves to be provoked.

You say that you're trying to set a great example as Muslims/Christians/Jews. You say that you want to change the mindset that people should not view Muslims as terrorists, Christians as blind fools and Jews as power hungry maniacs. You have great things in your minds, I approve of it but then you go ahead and destroy all expectation of that by being outraged by a sculpture. By something materialistic. Forgive me if I'm being too goddamned blunt here but you're making it much, much worse. Say I am a man who is hellbent on making you look bad in the eyes of the world. I believe that victory is mine.

3) Tolerance and forgiveness.

I don't have to search for a few verses in the Qur'an to make my point. There's a lot, yes, but my knowledge is limited. Instead, I am going to convey what my mother has always taught me: If a person has malice directed to you, and you suffer greatly because of it, don't do the same to him. You will not justify yourself, neither will you gain any respect for doing it. I admit, I myself have never put those words to heart at all times but you have to fucking agree with me here, the woman makes a lot of sense.

Are you not the one who preach non-stop about virtue? Are you not the one who tries his very best at practising what you believe? So then please tell me, why are you going batshit insane that you seem to have forgotten everything that you believed in? Is religion a valid excuse for you to conveniently leave the very heart of virtue behind and kill? Would God approve? Would He, when you die, tell you that 'No, it is okay that you killed presumably a few hundred innocent people. You did it for me, after all.'

Excuse my so called insolence but the God I believe in is not that shallow. The God I believe in does not see the martyrdom in bombing buildings filled with women and children. The God I believe in is omniscient, the God I believe in is merciful, the God I believe in is filled with so much love. This I say; I believe that if I die not waging a holy war in His name, he would find it easier to forgive me rather than if I had killed a million people.

For fuck's sake people, it's a fucking sculpture. A fucking sculpture. Look at your fucking selves.

Sleepless Nights 54 - Alpha Penguin.

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Sleepless Nights 53 - Nostalgia Night.

Lately for some reason, there's been quite a lot of things that has been reminding me of the past. From the talk with Kat about well, her, to fucking cartoons and shit.

1. The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy.



This. Oh sweet mother of diabetic ketoacidosis, this.

To be fair, it's kind of a general reference. We had so much better cartoons, I swear to God it made me grow up a much better person. We didn't have shit like Kim Possible, or fucking Totally Spies or My Little Fuck-Pony. We had this (It was Grim & Evil before), and Invader Zim and Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends and Dragonball and Transformers and Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers (Note that this is the only Power Rangers worth watching). We even had (Or was it my imagination) this cartoon about horses hellbent on killing each other. I shit you not, I forgot the title for the life of me but one scene will forever be seared in my head. There's this black horse an obviously he was the villain. So he was defeated, and then by the riverside, he uttered (Roared? Can horses roar?) these words: "VENGEANCE IS MINE!"

It took me five years to be able to make a straight face again.

That's the shit we had. Wildly unregulated, insanely fun and not safe at all. We had fucking fictional characters making us believe that we could break the emissary of death into bits without any effort when we're mere infants. Then we're confused when the characters that seem to hate each others' guts, go out of their way to save em. We're taught that family is fucking important and then when we grow up, we have those values nurtured in us. Yeah, it's buried underneath all the violence etcetera but still it's there.

I remembered seeing this kid when I went back to Malaysia last year and the parents... The parents had the look of defeat on their face. They bought him everything he wanted, even when he's an obese little fucking gremlin. Throwing tantrums and shit. It bugged me. What the fuck has been going on with parents nowadays?

2. Being a kid.

There's something awesome about having a kid's stature (Inb4 Paedo.) You get a lot of free shit, the only droll thing is going to school and holy fuck, did any of you realise how fucken fast we healed back then? I felt like Wolverine. There were a million things I didn't know.

I always came up with weird shit when I was a kid. I learned how to speak backwards just for the fucks of it. I could come up with a fight scene just with each hand's index and middle finger. If that didn't make sense, you're not imaginative enough. I saw towering epics in clouds. All this and suddenly I didn't know the days in Bahasa.

See, I was stupid back then. For once I actually don't mean that in a metaphorical terminology. I was literally fucken stupid. I didn't know the principles of division until I was ten, hell the only thing I excelled in was English. That was it, other than that, school was not a place I belonged in. Yet, people had expectations, mainly due to my Brother and Sisters excellence. Dark days, I guess. I was always left not knowing what the fuck was happening. In short, quite a disappointment.

Then I grew up, got a bit smarter, and then things changed. I don't know where this is leading, to be honest. Fuck it, point is, even when I was stupid, there was a sense of tranquillity around me. I didn't know, hence I could not be bothered. Yeah, I missed those days.

3. Reading. With an endless supply of coffee. No disturbances. In the rain.

This seems to be quite the depressing post. Where did all this go? Nowadays I read and there is always a fucking disturbance. Priorities. People fucking asking for stupid things that they can fucking do it by themselves. Even fucking stares. Honestly, what is the fucking anomaly in a person reading a storybook? Really, please do enlighten me so that I can get with the programme already.

4. Insane people.

There was a time when my life was filled with insanity. And I fucking loved it. Everybody is nuts one way or the other and Lady Fate saw it fit for us to gather and form an alliance of insanity. It was the best time of my life. Insanity was what bound us together and because of it, we could function so fucking well. One guy comes up with an insane idea, everybody applauds not because of the fact that it was not dangerous. It was because we didn't want to hinder that burst of enthusiasm, that stroke of genius. And we knew that if anything happens, we're there to prevent any casualties. Now I'm surrounded by superficial people who have forgotten the fact that they're alive. These people are so tightly wound that if you were to suggest something, they'd implode with the force of a thousand dying galaxies.

You fucks. You fucking fucks. Where the bloody fuck are you people...

5. Days when Dunhills costs cheaper than lunch.

6. Her.

At the risk of attracting rabid mongrels, I have to at least say this. I talked about you with Kat. At length, yes. I know, breaking the oath, bla bla bla, really woman, I don't think I give a fuck any more. It has of course, been pretty hard, with you deciding to hack my facebook or leaving potentially destructive messages around. It's hard. Still, don't stop. It's fun. Do you remember that old bookshop in Chow Kit? Those were pretty awesome days, innit? I think one of these days I'm still gonna find the notes you slipped into random books there. Nobody ever visits that place, haha. It's funny, really, nowadays, I don't think I can describe your face any more. Kat asked about you and all I could tell was what you did, not how you look and shit like that. Thanks for deleting every single one of the photos. That helped a lot. I wish you had given me a choice at least. One photo wouldn't hurt.

I saw a guy die the other day and it was exactly like what you said I'd feel. Trying my best to not be sappy, I guess you were the only one to actually, well, get me. It took a while to realise but meh, you know how being dense is. Also, holy fuck I just realised how fucked up some girls could be with giving out hints and shit. Thanks for not doing it back then, gah why can't everybody else do stuff that you did. Anyway, this is going on long enough, I believe. I have actually been thinking of you, or to be more accurate, about back then. You evil witch, whatever happened to fucking fairtrade?! Haha.

I'd post a picture if I had one but of course, you deleted them all. How convenient.

Awkward Moments on Ye Olde Facebook.

As it is, the photos and stories have attracted a number of people to my facebook. I don't particularly mind, to be honest, I kind of appreciate it. Then these people come up with weird shit to compensate for their act as fans that eventually gets me riled up.

There's this one guy that posts an immeasurable number of photos of himself, i.e. camwhorism and tags me in it. I'm sorry but yeah, I'd rather spend my days not having to look at a stranger's face every couple of hours or so. The fact remains that camwhorism is the bane to social photography sites and yes, I detest it. However, if you do choose to go ahead and indulge in such activities, what can I do but grumble in silent disapproval. The situation changes though when for some bitching reason, you want me to be apart of said act. What is the fucking motive of even doing so?

Yeah? Yeah, alright.

The rules are pretty simple, I believe. When you want to be friends with another person, the logical thing to do - I will skip on the word civilised - is to obviously introduce yourself. You know, with a fucking message or something. Tell me who you are, why you're here, what you secretly wish for, whatever. People however, have apparently missed that whole etiquette. Take being on facebook for example. People request to be your friend with names like 'Menuju Puncak Kamehameha' or 'Cahaya Asshole' and shit like that, with the hope that I will almost definitely recognise them. Then, in an utter weirded out state, I'll look at the picture to see a sliver of recognition from said person and then I see this:

Am I the only one who realises that this is the most used profile picture on facebook?

Baby pictures. Or pictures of posters. Or pictures of cartoons. What? So let's see, right now, I am supposed to share my personal information with a person who does not have a real name, no real picture of himself and is basically a ghost. You know what all that leads to?

I fear for children. Wait, no I don't.

I get the fact that you might be that insecure to not want your deformed face to litter the internet and I applaud you for caring about the internet's state of quality. But really, hiding everything just makes you a suspected sex offender. Maybe I'm not that far off either.

Then there are the ones who do everything to the dot and are still able to use some sort of witchcraft to fuck my day up. Take this for example.

*Ding* You have a facebook message.
*Opens facebook tab with minor interest*
New associate: Hi.
Me: Uh, hi.
NA: Good morning, smoking is bad.
Me: That's good to know.
NA: You must quit. You will kill yourself and the people around you.
Me: So will your mindless blabbering. You've probably given ear cancer to your mates. Rectal cancer is probably on its way now. You should be careful.

See, I don't understand that for the life of me. I get the fact that you're trying to help or whatever but the fact remains that I don't fucking know you man. It's like going up to a total stranger on a bus and telling her that she looks like an ape. It doesn't matter if she really does, but the fact of the matter remains that it's an invasion of privacy.

Problem with the whole thing is that it leaves me torn between the fact that I should just delete this cretin. But then I'll lose a reader/viewer. Hm.

*

I'm writing a goddamn romance short story at the moment. Never really wrote any before and it came to my attention that I should since it'd make good practice and such. Problem is, my God it's hard. I'm not talking about the kind that makes you feel all fluttery and all mushy inside, no that's pretty damn easy to write on.

Mushiness.

What I have in mind is a story with so much goddamn raw emotion that if you read it twice, you'd fall into an endless pit of sadness and agony. Well, no, not to that extent. A tearjerker if I dare say so myself, and a good one.

While I've always write fiction, most of what happens in the stories have happened. It makes it easier and adds that much more realism into the piece. Now I have to write everything based on imagination and imagination alone, which of course is going to be a bit tough. Ah well.

Time is being a bitch now cause of the fucking weather transition and shit. Two weeks ago, 6 p.m. would be fucking bright as fuck and nowadays it's pitch black. Meh, nothing to be surprised about, fucked up places equal fucked up weather.

Second Week of Clinicals; Death Toll: One.

Clinicals are fuck awesome to be perfectly honest but fuck man, it sucks the bloody life out of you. I'm so fucking tired everyday and it's only after two weeks...

I saw a guy die a few days ago and for some reason, it got me hyped up. I mean I thought that it would actually strike me at the core or inspire me or whatever shenanigans, but all felt was an intense excitement. It's not because I'm a heartless frigger or anything like that (Not in this case, at least) but it's simply because it's new. I've never seen a guy die before in such close proximity and that knowledge addiction just turned everything off.

You dick.

Ah well. Going into clinicals is like going into your first class in primary school. You might know a lot, teachers might praise you but there's always that point where you have a sudden realisation that you are, verily, a bumbling idiot. I shit you not, the amount of shit my brain has absorbed (Or have not absorbed) is fucking phenomenal. It's like I've been doused in chocolate and thrown into a pit full of lesbians been in an accident involving a steamroller and at the end of the day God just revives me again so that it could happen again the next day. If that makes any sense. Still a fuck awesome feeling though.

Lecturers make me feel this way, everyday. Also, am I the only one who can't stop laughing at this?

I guess I like being an idiot in a sense. It shows that there's still a fuckload more shit to learn and I haven't got the point where I feel bored at the very sight of information. Still, the thought of having to open books everyday is quite painful. Yeah, I know, lust for knowledge, innit, but still, there is an ever present limit. One of the lecturers said that on average, a doctor studies for about seven fucking hours per day. I almost shat my tongue out.

Being in clinicals is like having to choose Zooey Deschanel over uh... Coffee. Wait no, coffee wins hands down, more like having to choose her over a brand new 5D Mark II with all the lenses in the world at my disposal. Literally an impossible decision.

Tsk, tsk. Meh, I still have books, coffee and hallucinations of kinky BDSM sex to keep me company. I guess that's good enough.

Once again... Mindfucked by google.

*

Why. As in, really, why? *Frowns*
Why not? *Sips latte. Café au lait as she insists on calling it.*
Fuck you, I asked first. You're bound by an unspoken thousand year rule to answer my question.
*Not amused* Anybody ever told you how much of a dick you are? Wait, that must be a daily occurence for you.
I take that as a compliment. I will find more ways to further sharpen my dickish behaviour. Now, answer me.
Because, tomorrow, the world will end. *Stoic*
What?
Yeah, it'd be about quarter past two, and people will just start to drop dead. Then when everybody is dead, the aliens will come and reap our corpses and then they'll summon a meteor to destroy mother earth. So, just because of that. *Awkward silence*
Right.
Right-o.
*Sips own black coffee* Ever realised how nobody likes talking to you?
*Pouts* Oh yes, and I cry myself to sleep everyday because of it. Whatever will I do without the general public.
The world will end tomorrow?
*Shrugs* Doesn't really matter, does it. You asked me why we should do it, I say we must because there's a probability that everything that we know and are familiar with have a possibility of just disappearing into thin air. That's why I don't give a fuck. That's why every second is a blessing. We have no idea what is going to happen. I didn't know that I was not going to see my kid brother again two years ago. If I did, that'd be quite... Bosan la camtu, kan?
*Mindfucked* Uh, yes, you do have a point there.
Dah, let's go.
After you, woman.