So tomorrow is my flight back to the UK, and my feelings are terribly mixed about it. On one hand, I can't help but feel I haven't spent enough time with all of my friends, especially Fee and Yumnie. On the other hand, I simply can't wait to go back.
So what has the first two months back to Brunei taught me? I'm not quite sure. A lot, yet so little at the same time.
Things change. People change. Unexpected new relationships blooming. Unexpected old relationships staying alive or breaking off. This side of the world has changed during my absence, and it feels weird. I'm not thinking country-wise. I mean my friends. It's strange to think that for the past ten months I haven't been directly a part of their lives, and they in mine.
It's unbelievably weird - and incredibly selfish of me - to see and feel envious that these people are doing well without me. Heh. I know. What did I expect. Not that I'm self-centred or anything. I think most would understand what I'm trying to say, rather than intepret it as self-centred.
It's raining planes and helicopters, and one of them is my flight HOME.
Signing out
Over and out
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Friday, August 24, 2007
Two Afternoons Of Caffeine & Chocolate
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Brunei,
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work
I’ve been working for the British Council these last couple of days, and I enjoyed myself. Maybe I’ll do this again next year. Not to mention to get some extra money. Ahaha. Ha.
The Education UK exhibition was fun, even though I was just a promoter for the feedback survey. I was quite happy with myself, especially when we managed to overshoot the 250 mark by about 100 people. Nice touch. Apparently Bruneians like doing surveys. And oh, getting the free sports bottle that came along with filling them.
It’s amusing what people would do just to get a free souvenir. Some of these people weren’t even considering doing the survey, until I mentioned the free stuff. After that they didn’t even mind queuing up for up to twenty minutes just to fill in the computerised survey. But encouragingly, I must add, a lot of people said yes before even finding out we gave out these free metallic red cylinders of water-containing wonders.
And on Friday afternoon, I volunteered to help out with the pre-departure briefing by of course, the British Council. I was only expecting to be involved in the Q&A section of the whole thing, but Jances & I got asked to give an impromptu talk of living in the UK. It was a short one though, and we did pretty well. One nice touch was when Jances mentioned her experience of the girls in UK talking about how much bigger each other’s boobs have grown. I burst into laughter, holding my face in my hands, in front of the whole audience, and while we weren’t really embarrassed about talking about it, I could see some of the audience actually surprised. That was what made me laugh.
Anyways, I met Vanessa with who I think is her boyfriend Darren. She’s got a new haircut, and dyed her hair, which looked really nice on her. And oh, I think Aainaa must have did her hair too. Both of them look really great with the new hair. Sorry I didn’t mention that when talking to you two.
Signing out
Over and out
The Education UK exhibition was fun, even though I was just a promoter for the feedback survey. I was quite happy with myself, especially when we managed to overshoot the 250 mark by about 100 people. Nice touch. Apparently Bruneians like doing surveys. And oh, getting the free sports bottle that came along with filling them.
It’s amusing what people would do just to get a free souvenir. Some of these people weren’t even considering doing the survey, until I mentioned the free stuff. After that they didn’t even mind queuing up for up to twenty minutes just to fill in the computerised survey. But encouragingly, I must add, a lot of people said yes before even finding out we gave out these free metallic red cylinders of water-containing wonders.
And on Friday afternoon, I volunteered to help out with the pre-departure briefing by of course, the British Council. I was only expecting to be involved in the Q&A section of the whole thing, but Jances & I got asked to give an impromptu talk of living in the UK. It was a short one though, and we did pretty well. One nice touch was when Jances mentioned her experience of the girls in UK talking about how much bigger each other’s boobs have grown. I burst into laughter, holding my face in my hands, in front of the whole audience, and while we weren’t really embarrassed about talking about it, I could see some of the audience actually surprised. That was what made me laugh.
Anyways, I met Vanessa with who I think is her boyfriend Darren. She’s got a new haircut, and dyed her hair, which looked really nice on her. And oh, I think Aainaa must have did her hair too. Both of them look really great with the new hair. Sorry I didn’t mention that when talking to you two.
Signing out
Over and out
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Waiting For The Eight Months To Start All Over
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Brunei,
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I'm again back at Bandar, at Coffee Bean, probably overdosed on Coffee (latte, mainly). I was gonna do research, but I decided to sod it. So I took some personality tests based on my blog, since I recently got my blog listed on Brunei's Blogging Nation. Here's some of the results:
My blog is distinguished by verbosity, and I don't actually know what that word means.
My blog shows I'm 31% male, 69% female. Oh, hahaha. There goes my ego.
I write mainly about myself. Self-centred, anyone?
And I write mainly about the present, then the past, and then the future the least.
My writing style is conventional and the readability is decent.
I see my blog as the ultimate personal expression - and work hard to make it great.
One moment I may be working on a new dramatic design for my blog...
And the next, I'm passionately writing about my pet causes.
My blog is very important - and I'm careful about who I share it with.
So that's that. Basically I'm an effeminate, self-centred, conventional but passionate and artistic. Not bad, I guess.
Signing out
Over and out
My blog is distinguished by verbosity, and I don't actually know what that word means.
My blog shows I'm 31% male, 69% female. Oh, hahaha. There goes my ego.
I write mainly about myself. Self-centred, anyone?
And I write mainly about the present, then the past, and then the future the least.
My writing style is conventional and the readability is decent.
I see my blog as the ultimate personal expression - and work hard to make it great.
One moment I may be working on a new dramatic design for my blog...
And the next, I'm passionately writing about my pet causes.
My blog is very important - and I'm careful about who I share it with.
So that's that. Basically I'm an effeminate, self-centred, conventional but passionate and artistic. Not bad, I guess.
Signing out
Over and out
The Finer Story Of True Love
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writing
I edited my story, 'The Story of True Love,' because I felt it was too short. Mind you, I wrote and posted it using my mobile phone.
-------------------------
I found it, he said in what was almost a soft whisper. He iterated those words, but with a louder voice, and an enthusiasm so obvious it took the attention of the birds and the squirrels, who gathered around him, trying to take a peek of what he had found. He squealed with unfelt before joy, and his smile grew with every moment. Finally, he had found True Love.
He wrapped True Love in silk clothing made from the threads of the finest breed of silkworms, and placed it gently in an intricately-designed wooden box made of mahogany carved with poems of love in a language that has died long ago with its people, and the box was littered with diamonds, sapphires, rubies and every other kind of jewellery that he knew existed. He sprayed the box with a perfume so sweet, bees from a mile away thought it was pure nectar from the rarest and most beautiful of flowers.
True Love was dear to him. There were days he felt he would gladly defend it with his life, and felt obliged to shower it with the most extravagant of decorations designed by the finest sets of hands in all of the world.
Once a day, he would take True Love out of the box, gently stroking it with his hands, looking at its every detail, wishing that True Love would stay with him forever. His eyes still transfixed on True Love, he would then take it outside, to his magnificient garden where the most vibrant of orchids and the most elegant of roses were grown. Time would seemingly stop at this moment, as the beetles and butterflies stopped to stare in awe at the spectacle of True Love. By sunset, he would then put True Love back in the mahogany box, telling himself how fortunate he had been to find True Love .
Then, one day, when he fell to deep melancholy and especially needing consolation, he was surprised to see that True Love wasn't in the box. He could come with no explanation as to how it could have disappeared, as the box had never left his sight. He questioned all his servants and maids, even accusing them of hiding True Love for their own benefit. In desperation he offered a handsome reward to anyone who could bring True Love back, but as thousands came to his door claiming they had found True Love, he found them to be either liars, con-artists, or just grossly mistaken.
In desperation, he returned to the enchanted forest where he had found True Love, at a lake no one knew existed, untouched by anyone except himself. Chills came down his spine as he had seen the lake transforming as he stepped on the soil surrounding it. The water had become as red as and thicker than blood. It smelt of rotting flesh, and the surface was unsettlingly still, as if death itself had infested the waters. He could feel the presence of unknown, malevolent creatures, eyeing him, waiting for him to fall into the lake. For a chance to devour his very flesh and soul. He tried to ignore this, and looked desperately for True Love, but again, he found nothing.
He spent the rest of his life, looking for lost True Love. His reward became unclaimed. His servants and maids have left him, convinced that he had lost his mind, unable to realise the fact that...
The moment he wrapped it in silk and put it in the mahogany box, he had lost True Love.
------------------------------
Re-reading this edited version, there's a lingering feeling that this feels as if it's just an afterthought. It doesn't quite flow, but I think it says a lot more about what I wanted to say than the shorter version. I originally intended to put in a lot of symbolism and metaphors about love, and I'd like to think I succeeded here. I based the style on Neil Gaiman, but I can never say it's as good as his stories. I think Gothic fairytales are a joy to write, since you've got both the artistic license to exaggerate and bend truths, while at the same time address mature issues and discuss multiple themes.
Tell me how you think of the story, even if you think it's pretentious bullshit or just plain boring. That means I get to flame you. Hahaha. Kidding :P
Signing out
Over and out
-------------------------
I found it, he said in what was almost a soft whisper. He iterated those words, but with a louder voice, and an enthusiasm so obvious it took the attention of the birds and the squirrels, who gathered around him, trying to take a peek of what he had found. He squealed with unfelt before joy, and his smile grew with every moment. Finally, he had found True Love.
He wrapped True Love in silk clothing made from the threads of the finest breed of silkworms, and placed it gently in an intricately-designed wooden box made of mahogany carved with poems of love in a language that has died long ago with its people, and the box was littered with diamonds, sapphires, rubies and every other kind of jewellery that he knew existed. He sprayed the box with a perfume so sweet, bees from a mile away thought it was pure nectar from the rarest and most beautiful of flowers.
True Love was dear to him. There were days he felt he would gladly defend it with his life, and felt obliged to shower it with the most extravagant of decorations designed by the finest sets of hands in all of the world.
Once a day, he would take True Love out of the box, gently stroking it with his hands, looking at its every detail, wishing that True Love would stay with him forever. His eyes still transfixed on True Love, he would then take it outside, to his magnificient garden where the most vibrant of orchids and the most elegant of roses were grown. Time would seemingly stop at this moment, as the beetles and butterflies stopped to stare in awe at the spectacle of True Love. By sunset, he would then put True Love back in the mahogany box, telling himself how fortunate he had been to find True Love .
Then, one day, when he fell to deep melancholy and especially needing consolation, he was surprised to see that True Love wasn't in the box. He could come with no explanation as to how it could have disappeared, as the box had never left his sight. He questioned all his servants and maids, even accusing them of hiding True Love for their own benefit. In desperation he offered a handsome reward to anyone who could bring True Love back, but as thousands came to his door claiming they had found True Love, he found them to be either liars, con-artists, or just grossly mistaken.
In desperation, he returned to the enchanted forest where he had found True Love, at a lake no one knew existed, untouched by anyone except himself. Chills came down his spine as he had seen the lake transforming as he stepped on the soil surrounding it. The water had become as red as and thicker than blood. It smelt of rotting flesh, and the surface was unsettlingly still, as if death itself had infested the waters. He could feel the presence of unknown, malevolent creatures, eyeing him, waiting for him to fall into the lake. For a chance to devour his very flesh and soul. He tried to ignore this, and looked desperately for True Love, but again, he found nothing.
He spent the rest of his life, looking for lost True Love. His reward became unclaimed. His servants and maids have left him, convinced that he had lost his mind, unable to realise the fact that...
The moment he wrapped it in silk and put it in the mahogany box, he had lost True Love.
------------------------------
Re-reading this edited version, there's a lingering feeling that this feels as if it's just an afterthought. It doesn't quite flow, but I think it says a lot more about what I wanted to say than the shorter version. I originally intended to put in a lot of symbolism and metaphors about love, and I'd like to think I succeeded here. I based the style on Neil Gaiman, but I can never say it's as good as his stories. I think Gothic fairytales are a joy to write, since you've got both the artistic license to exaggerate and bend truths, while at the same time address mature issues and discuss multiple themes.
Tell me how you think of the story, even if you think it's pretentious bullshit or just plain boring. That means I get to flame you. Hahaha. Kidding :P
Signing out
Over and out
A Mention For An Amendment Decades In The Making
For the second day in a row, I'm having breakfast at De Royalle Cafe, here in Bandar, with really not much to do than go online, check Facebook & Multiply, and recently, starting to read blogs from Brunei's very own Blogging Nation. But in all honesty, going online isn't always unproductive. Just by a few random clicks and and BAM! You find out something you didn't even imagine could even be true, likely or possible. That's literally how I ended up being a vegan. A few random clicks and there I was, pondering over the ethics of animal exploitation.
[skip this part if you get bored easily. Hahaha]
With creativity though, there's a lot you can do online. There's this Wikipedia game that people play, where you have to link two seemingly unrelated topics. Here's how it works:
Choose two totally unrelated topics. Eg. Mitsubishi, and Anne Frank
Then choose a starting point. I'll choose Anne Frank as an example. Enter it on Wikipedia
Then read the article, looking for any links for articles that might get you one step closer to achieving your final goal, Mitsubishi, in as few clicks as possible.
I've gone from Anne Frank to Germany to Japan to Mitsubishi. Accomplished!
Hahahahaa.
I know what you're thinking. This is the saddest game I've ever heard. And yes, it kinda is. But it's still good fun.
[Yes, it's safe now]
Anyways, so I'm bored here. I'm not gonna say I'm bored out of my mind because the truth is, I'm not THAT bored. Facebook is a good companion. BBC News is on the telly, so you can't really say I'm not learning anything while I'm sitting here sipping my Caramel Latte in De Royalle.
The rain is soothing. It's a soft drizzling delicate shower. And unlike when it rains in the UK, the sky is still bright. Makes for a good walk under the rain. Although since I've got lunch later at somewhere else, I don't plan to get wet here and now. And since I've been spending much more time in Bandar (no, don't call me a Poklen. Hahaha), I've noticed there are loads of tourists around. And they all look the same, with their khaki shorts and oversized camping bags. And oh, a big-ass camera hanging around their neck. I guess it's some kind of tourist uniform rule that all European/American tourists wear when going to a tropical country. Hoho. Ha. A lot of them hang out at De Royalle too, apparently.
By the way, there's an Education UK / British Council exhibit going on tomorrow at Rizqun, the Mall. Fourth floor, Sutra Hall. I'll be working there as a promoter for the feedback survey. Sounds fun. Ish. The task, though simple, seems a bit daunting. They're aiming for 200-250 people to answer the survey, and I'm supposed to get those 250 people. A bit of a struggle, I predict. It'll be from 1pm to 6pm, if anyone's wondering. Be there. I'll be at the entrance. And do come in hundreds. Makes my job easier to get those survey forms done. Hahaha.
I guess my holiday isn't as unproductive as it seems at first glance. So far I've been to two pre-departure briefing for new scholars, and is expecting another one this Friday. I've looked after my grandfather in the hospital, essentially learning how to take care of the elderly. I've looked at universities, courses and grade requirements. I guess this amounts to being (somewhat) relatively productive, considering I've had three attachment applications unreplied and ignored.
And oh, being in UK for eight months, you gain new insight to how Brunei is, against how it seems to be. I don't intend to elaborate on that point, because it could get too tedious.
Signing out
Over and out
[skip this part if you get bored easily. Hahaha]
With creativity though, there's a lot you can do online. There's this Wikipedia game that people play, where you have to link two seemingly unrelated topics. Here's how it works:
Choose two totally unrelated topics. Eg. Mitsubishi, and Anne Frank
Then choose a starting point. I'll choose Anne Frank as an example. Enter it on Wikipedia
Then read the article, looking for any links for articles that might get you one step closer to achieving your final goal, Mitsubishi, in as few clicks as possible.
I've gone from Anne Frank to Germany to Japan to Mitsubishi. Accomplished!
Hahahahaa.
I know what you're thinking. This is the saddest game I've ever heard. And yes, it kinda is. But it's still good fun.
[Yes, it's safe now]
Anyways, so I'm bored here. I'm not gonna say I'm bored out of my mind because the truth is, I'm not THAT bored. Facebook is a good companion. BBC News is on the telly, so you can't really say I'm not learning anything while I'm sitting here sipping my Caramel Latte in De Royalle.
The rain is soothing. It's a soft drizzling delicate shower. And unlike when it rains in the UK, the sky is still bright. Makes for a good walk under the rain. Although since I've got lunch later at somewhere else, I don't plan to get wet here and now. And since I've been spending much more time in Bandar (no, don't call me a Poklen. Hahaha), I've noticed there are loads of tourists around. And they all look the same, with their khaki shorts and oversized camping bags. And oh, a big-ass camera hanging around their neck. I guess it's some kind of tourist uniform rule that all European/American tourists wear when going to a tropical country. Hoho. Ha. A lot of them hang out at De Royalle too, apparently.
By the way, there's an Education UK / British Council exhibit going on tomorrow at Rizqun, the Mall. Fourth floor, Sutra Hall. I'll be working there as a promoter for the feedback survey. Sounds fun. Ish. The task, though simple, seems a bit daunting. They're aiming for 200-250 people to answer the survey, and I'm supposed to get those 250 people. A bit of a struggle, I predict. It'll be from 1pm to 6pm, if anyone's wondering. Be there. I'll be at the entrance. And do come in hundreds. Makes my job easier to get those survey forms done. Hahaha.
I guess my holiday isn't as unproductive as it seems at first glance. So far I've been to two pre-departure briefing for new scholars, and is expecting another one this Friday. I've looked after my grandfather in the hospital, essentially learning how to take care of the elderly. I've looked at universities, courses and grade requirements. I guess this amounts to being (somewhat) relatively productive, considering I've had three attachment applications unreplied and ignored.
And oh, being in UK for eight months, you gain new insight to how Brunei is, against how it seems to be. I don't intend to elaborate on that point, because it could get too tedious.
Signing out
Over and out
Buried In Unlabelled Expressions From A Journey Mysterious
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internet,
writing
The mild darkness is disturbed
By the streetlights of haunting ambience
Step by step we find the unnoticeables
In places we never expected
In times we never thought of exploring
Going deeper than the usuals of the city routines
The relative silence calms the wandering souls under the coldness of night
The tired faces are enlightened
By the journeys of unknown purposes
Street by street we find different variables
In faces we've never met
In roads we never even knew existed
Walking further than the usuals of our simple lives
The boundless skies turn a shade lighter with the morning dewdrops
--------------------------------------------
I wrote this in December. It's actually based on my experiences so far in London. It was actually in my Friendster blog, but reading it again, I quite like it. I might lift some material off my Friendster blog since I'm not using that anymore.
Signing out
Over and out
By the streetlights of haunting ambience
Step by step we find the unnoticeables
In places we never expected
In times we never thought of exploring
Going deeper than the usuals of the city routines
The relative silence calms the wandering souls under the coldness of night
The tired faces are enlightened
By the journeys of unknown purposes
Street by street we find different variables
In faces we've never met
In roads we never even knew existed
Walking further than the usuals of our simple lives
The boundless skies turn a shade lighter with the morning dewdrops
--------------------------------------------
I wrote this in December. It's actually based on my experiences so far in London. It was actually in my Friendster blog, but reading it again, I quite like it. I might lift some material off my Friendster blog since I'm not using that anymore.
Signing out
Over and out
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Five Days Late & A Simple Matter Of Expectancy
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school
Oh wow. Okay, so I know it's a bit late. And the excitement has already gone down, but still, I can't help being excited over the fact I got an A for my English Literature papers :D
Literature is the only subject I really (like, really) care about out of the four, and of course, for the other subjects, my predictions were pretty much accurate. So this is my results:
English Literature - A
Maths - A
Chemistry - B
Physics - A (pending coursework)
Now I'm in a dilemma. I was contemplating dropping either Physics or Chemistry, and I was gonna wait to see which subject I'd do worse in. And I was so convinced I'd do worse in Physics, I was already planning to drop it. So much so that I didn't do any preliminary research for my A2 Physics Research coursework. Since I got an A in Physics, and B in Chemistry, I'm not sure which one I wanna drop.
Maybe I'll retake the Chemistry modules in January. That could solve my problem :D
Signing out
Over and out
Literature is the only subject I really (like, really) care about out of the four, and of course, for the other subjects, my predictions were pretty much accurate. So this is my results:
English Literature - A
Maths - A
Chemistry - B
Physics - A (pending coursework)
Now I'm in a dilemma. I was contemplating dropping either Physics or Chemistry, and I was gonna wait to see which subject I'd do worse in. And I was so convinced I'd do worse in Physics, I was already planning to drop it. So much so that I didn't do any preliminary research for my A2 Physics Research coursework. Since I got an A in Physics, and B in Chemistry, I'm not sure which one I wanna drop.
Maybe I'll retake the Chemistry modules in January. That could solve my problem :D
Signing out
Over and out
Monday, August 20, 2007
Harsh Words In Times Of Difficult Decisions
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rant,
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Okay. I wrote this short story just because I wanted to swear. Fact. Hahaha. I apologise if it turns out the story has no recognisable plot whatsoever. I sincerely just feel the need to swear. And oh, if you’re the type to be offended, do not – I repeat, do not- go on reading. It’s gonna be full of profanity and sexual references, so I guess it’s up to your judgment if you wanna continue reading it.
----------------
“Fuck it, you know. Just fuck that god-damned son of a bitch, fuck him all the way to hell. And when, not if, he goes to hell, I hope he gets raped by the Devil himself, slowly and painfully, with no lubricant.”
There was no doubt that the person uttering those words was filled with anger. But no one could blame him. That ‘god-damned son of a bitch’ he was talking about, it was Klein.
Everyone knew Klein. And everyone knew Klein was a cunt. And a massive one at that. Put it this way. If he was literally a real physical cunt, he would be so massive that any penetration would be like poking a pencil into the Grand Canyon. But since he was just a metaphorical cunt, you couldn’t guess it just by looking at him.
He was the type to steal everyone’s girlfriend and then dump her after a week because, as he says it, “fuck her. Oh wait, I already did.” And that’s one of life’s conundrums. Girls keep coming to him like a policeman to a double-glazed donut. The policeman knows it’s bad for him, but he’s already hooked, and by the time he’s got over his addiction, has gained seventy pounds, diagnosed as a diabetic, his wife had divorced him two months ago, and his superiors are investigating him over breach of conduct. At least Krispy Kreme has voted him ‘Best Customer’ for the fourth consecutive year.
But then on the pitch, as the football club captain for the local team, he was worshipped as a god amongst men. And as such he was treated like a proper god by the club and its sponsors. The only reason he hadn’t left the club was that other clubs didn’t want to treat him like a booze-drinking, sex-obsessed messiah. Most other clubs already had one anyway, as an unwritten rule. If you didn’t have a self-centred, headline-making player in the team, you wouldn’t be considered a part of the elite. And everyone wanted to be a part of the elite. Even if it meant going to the casinos, gambling thousands and millions on Black Jack and roulette because you were afraid to admit you didn’t know how to play Baccarat, and serving your guests £700 glasses of the finest Dom Perignon wine you could get your hands on when all you could actually afford in the pub last night was two pints of Carling and a bottle of Jack Daniels.
Of course Klein was genuinely rich. Not even filthy rich would justify it. In fact, if filthy described wealth, Klein would have to be swimming in two tonnes of shit from the assholes of two hundred different people, all of whom only ever eat spicy Burritos and cheap hot curry from the crappy fast food restaurant downtown.
Nonetheless, he was still a cunt, albeit an undeservedly fuckingly filthy wealthy one. Self-centred as he was, he sued Calvin Klein for allegedly using his name to gain profit. Ridiculously, he won. Rumours that he managed to bribe (have a brief affair with) the judge, Amy McNaught and two-thirds of the members of the jury, were spread faster than the legs of a horny mistress after watching the sex scene from Original Sin.
“Again, I have to say this, and I don’t think anyone would disagree, Klein was an unbelievable jackass. In fact, the only respect I have is for the fact that he was so committed into being a total and utter jackass, it must have taken him a fucking lifetime to perfect the art of being a motherfucker like him.”
Almost everyone nodded in agreement. The few people who did like him (these were people who knew him only briefly when he was generous with his wealth) stayed quiet in fear of being ostracised.
“May God have mercy on him. For all of us sure fucking don’t.” And with those final words, the priest ended the funeral proceedings, allowing the few people who did bring roses – and they were cheap, supermarket roses – to pay their respects. Most of them were already heading to the after-party for Klein’s funeral held in Klein’s unclaimed house.
As the day grew darker, the world has lost one more metaphorical cunt, and gained some much needed peace. Birds rejoiced and the stars came out to play. It was a beautiful night. And no jackass was gonna ruin it.
--------------------------------
See. So the story’s a bit mean. But it’s not directed at anyone. Klein’s not meant to be someone I know. Honest. I just thought it’d be funny (and well, really sad and admittedly shocking) if something like this really happened. Of course, I couldn’t help myself giggle to some of the jokes. I wish if I was going to be a writer, I would get to write stories much like this one. Hahaha. Ha.
Signing out
Over and out
----------------
“Fuck it, you know. Just fuck that god-damned son of a bitch, fuck him all the way to hell. And when, not if, he goes to hell, I hope he gets raped by the Devil himself, slowly and painfully, with no lubricant.”
There was no doubt that the person uttering those words was filled with anger. But no one could blame him. That ‘god-damned son of a bitch’ he was talking about, it was Klein.
Everyone knew Klein. And everyone knew Klein was a cunt. And a massive one at that. Put it this way. If he was literally a real physical cunt, he would be so massive that any penetration would be like poking a pencil into the Grand Canyon. But since he was just a metaphorical cunt, you couldn’t guess it just by looking at him.
He was the type to steal everyone’s girlfriend and then dump her after a week because, as he says it, “fuck her. Oh wait, I already did.” And that’s one of life’s conundrums. Girls keep coming to him like a policeman to a double-glazed donut. The policeman knows it’s bad for him, but he’s already hooked, and by the time he’s got over his addiction, has gained seventy pounds, diagnosed as a diabetic, his wife had divorced him two months ago, and his superiors are investigating him over breach of conduct. At least Krispy Kreme has voted him ‘Best Customer’ for the fourth consecutive year.
But then on the pitch, as the football club captain for the local team, he was worshipped as a god amongst men. And as such he was treated like a proper god by the club and its sponsors. The only reason he hadn’t left the club was that other clubs didn’t want to treat him like a booze-drinking, sex-obsessed messiah. Most other clubs already had one anyway, as an unwritten rule. If you didn’t have a self-centred, headline-making player in the team, you wouldn’t be considered a part of the elite. And everyone wanted to be a part of the elite. Even if it meant going to the casinos, gambling thousands and millions on Black Jack and roulette because you were afraid to admit you didn’t know how to play Baccarat, and serving your guests £700 glasses of the finest Dom Perignon wine you could get your hands on when all you could actually afford in the pub last night was two pints of Carling and a bottle of Jack Daniels.
Of course Klein was genuinely rich. Not even filthy rich would justify it. In fact, if filthy described wealth, Klein would have to be swimming in two tonnes of shit from the assholes of two hundred different people, all of whom only ever eat spicy Burritos and cheap hot curry from the crappy fast food restaurant downtown.
Nonetheless, he was still a cunt, albeit an undeservedly fuckingly filthy wealthy one. Self-centred as he was, he sued Calvin Klein for allegedly using his name to gain profit. Ridiculously, he won. Rumours that he managed to bribe (have a brief affair with) the judge, Amy McNaught and two-thirds of the members of the jury, were spread faster than the legs of a horny mistress after watching the sex scene from Original Sin.
“Again, I have to say this, and I don’t think anyone would disagree, Klein was an unbelievable jackass. In fact, the only respect I have is for the fact that he was so committed into being a total and utter jackass, it must have taken him a fucking lifetime to perfect the art of being a motherfucker like him.”
Almost everyone nodded in agreement. The few people who did like him (these were people who knew him only briefly when he was generous with his wealth) stayed quiet in fear of being ostracised.
“May God have mercy on him. For all of us sure fucking don’t.” And with those final words, the priest ended the funeral proceedings, allowing the few people who did bring roses – and they were cheap, supermarket roses – to pay their respects. Most of them were already heading to the after-party for Klein’s funeral held in Klein’s unclaimed house.
As the day grew darker, the world has lost one more metaphorical cunt, and gained some much needed peace. Birds rejoiced and the stars came out to play. It was a beautiful night. And no jackass was gonna ruin it.
--------------------------------
See. So the story’s a bit mean. But it’s not directed at anyone. Klein’s not meant to be someone I know. Honest. I just thought it’d be funny (and well, really sad and admittedly shocking) if something like this really happened. Of course, I couldn’t help myself giggle to some of the jokes. I wish if I was going to be a writer, I would get to write stories much like this one. Hahaha. Ha.
Signing out
Over and out
Sunday, August 19, 2007
The Story Of True Love
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writing
I found it, he said. Then he squealed with joy as he had finally found True Love.
He wrapped True Love in silk clothing made from the threads of the finest breed of silkworms, and placed it gently in an intricately-designed wooden box made of mahogany, littered with diamonds, sapphires, rubies and every other kind of jewellery that he knew existed. He sprayed the box with a perfume so sweet, bees from a mile away thought it was pure nectar from the rarest and most beautiful of flowers.
He held True Love dearly in his heart, so much so that he never let the box out of his sight, not even briefly.
Once a day, he would take True Love out of the box, gently stroking it with his hands. He would then take it outside, to his magnificient garden where the most vibrant orchids and the most elegant of roses were grown. By dusk, he would then put True Love back in the mahogany box.
Then, one day, when he especially needed consolation, he was surprised to see that True Love wasn't in the box. Nobody could have stolen it. He eyed the box all the time. It left him perplexed.
True Love had simply vanished, into thin air, without a trace.
He wrapped True Love in silk clothing made from the threads of the finest breed of silkworms, and placed it gently in an intricately-designed wooden box made of mahogany, littered with diamonds, sapphires, rubies and every other kind of jewellery that he knew existed. He sprayed the box with a perfume so sweet, bees from a mile away thought it was pure nectar from the rarest and most beautiful of flowers.
He held True Love dearly in his heart, so much so that he never let the box out of his sight, not even briefly.
Once a day, he would take True Love out of the box, gently stroking it with his hands. He would then take it outside, to his magnificient garden where the most vibrant orchids and the most elegant of roses were grown. By dusk, he would then put True Love back in the mahogany box.
Then, one day, when he especially needed consolation, he was surprised to see that True Love wasn't in the box. Nobody could have stolen it. He eyed the box all the time. It left him perplexed.
True Love had simply vanished, into thin air, without a trace.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
A Treasure-House Full Of Unwritten Stories
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This is the blog I'm supposed to write instead of the one before. I guess when it comes to writing anything, anything at all, you will never be quite sure how it will end up.
I've mentioned before how I sometimes feel that nothing is real, that I'm trapped in a world that is created by own mind. This is an expansion of that point.
One of my biggest fears in life is that I'm actually living my life all in my head, and someday I'll wake up, realising everything I had, everyone I loved, all of it never existed, except in my head. It's a scary thought, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who fears this.
The routine nature of everyday life only serves to amplify that fear. The repetitive things we do, the same places we go to day by day, sometimes it feels like a looping recorded tape, playing over and over again, with only minor changes, caused by static.
Surviving every single day, when so many things could go wrong, doesn't it seem eerily unreal? How many times did you almost get hit by a car? Recovered your balance from falling down a menacing set of stairs?
Of course I would've liked to write a longer and better one, but blogging through my phone is a bitch.
Signing out
Over and out
I've mentioned before how I sometimes feel that nothing is real, that I'm trapped in a world that is created by own mind. This is an expansion of that point.
One of my biggest fears in life is that I'm actually living my life all in my head, and someday I'll wake up, realising everything I had, everyone I loved, all of it never existed, except in my head. It's a scary thought, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who fears this.
The routine nature of everyday life only serves to amplify that fear. The repetitive things we do, the same places we go to day by day, sometimes it feels like a looping recorded tape, playing over and over again, with only minor changes, caused by static.
Surviving every single day, when so many things could go wrong, doesn't it seem eerily unreal? How many times did you almost get hit by a car? Recovered your balance from falling down a menacing set of stairs?
Of course I would've liked to write a longer and better one, but blogging through my phone is a bitch.
Signing out
Over and out
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind
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The title isn't mine. It's from one of my favourite movies, featuring Jim Carey and Kate Winslet. It's not a comedy though. It's a kind of romance story, but it's also an exploration of the human mind.
The story goes on like this. It's actually told in a somewhat non-chronological order, but I'll try to explain it anyway. Winslet's character feels that her relationship with Carey is no longer workable, and therefore decides to erase him from her memory permanently, and start over with a new life. Carey, finding out Winslet's actions, decides to do the same.
Of course, during the process, while being trapped in his own subconscious, finds that he doesn't wanna lose the wonderful memories he had with her, even though the relationship is over. He then tries to wake himself up, so that he could still retain those memories.
It's a great film. I think they show it on Astro from time to time.
I've also just seen '28 Weeks Later' on DVD. This film is amazing. Far from just being a gore-fest, it is a thriller that has heart. The eerie music is essential to the film, giving a sense of hopelessness and desperation. Every little sense of hope is crushed soon after it is given. This film has a genuinely good plot, but the characters aren't allowed to develop.
Rush Hour 3 was a good laugh-out-loud film. But it had so many cliches in it. Recommended though.
Signing out
Over and out
The story goes on like this. It's actually told in a somewhat non-chronological order, but I'll try to explain it anyway. Winslet's character feels that her relationship with Carey is no longer workable, and therefore decides to erase him from her memory permanently, and start over with a new life. Carey, finding out Winslet's actions, decides to do the same.
Of course, during the process, while being trapped in his own subconscious, finds that he doesn't wanna lose the wonderful memories he had with her, even though the relationship is over. He then tries to wake himself up, so that he could still retain those memories.
It's a great film. I think they show it on Astro from time to time.
I've also just seen '28 Weeks Later' on DVD. This film is amazing. Far from just being a gore-fest, it is a thriller that has heart. The eerie music is essential to the film, giving a sense of hopelessness and desperation. Every little sense of hope is crushed soon after it is given. This film has a genuinely good plot, but the characters aren't allowed to develop.
Rush Hour 3 was a good laugh-out-loud film. But it had so many cliches in it. Recommended though.
Signing out
Over and out
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Capturing The Reluctant Moonlight In A Simplified Phrase
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I have a stupid habit of hating boyfriends. Yes, apparently I do. This was highlighted by Fee, when I commented on my initial dislike of the boyfriend of a close friend of mine. It's a stupid thing on my part, I guess, to be so judgmental on someone I barely know. But I still do it nonetheless.
I don't exactly know why I have this outrageously stupid habit of being sceptical towards my friends' boyfriends. Especially when they act like boyfriends, being all cuddly and.. Urm.. boyfriend-ish.
Maybe it's because I'm single, and I'm just jealous of these lucky bastards. Maybe. Haha.
Maybe I'm just being overprotective of my friends, which may sound stupid, but I've seen some of the meanest, most inconsiderate, life-sucking boyfriends (not mine, obviously) around. So I guess me being sceptical is somewhat justified.
I am not entirely sure.
LATEST NEWS: I don't like my aunt's boyfriend. Haha. What does that make me?
I took Sigmeund Freud's test on Tickle today. Scary stuff, especially when a bit turns out to be true. And if you know Freud, you'll know why that's freaky.
Signing out
Over and out
I don't exactly know why I have this outrageously stupid habit of being sceptical towards my friends' boyfriends. Especially when they act like boyfriends, being all cuddly and.. Urm.. boyfriend-ish.
Maybe it's because I'm single, and I'm just jealous of these lucky bastards. Maybe. Haha.
Maybe I'm just being overprotective of my friends, which may sound stupid, but I've seen some of the meanest, most inconsiderate, life-sucking boyfriends (not mine, obviously) around. So I guess me being sceptical is somewhat justified.
I am not entirely sure.
LATEST NEWS: I don't like my aunt's boyfriend. Haha. What does that make me?
I took Sigmeund Freud's test on Tickle today. Scary stuff, especially when a bit turns out to be true. And if you know Freud, you'll know why that's freaky.
Signing out
Over and out
Monday, August 6, 2007
A Predicted Epiphany Amidst Life And Death
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Brunei,
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Grandpa will be out today. Mainly this news is a relief. Five of my last eight nights were spent here, in Ward 4, staying up till the wee hours of the morning.
I won't say it's been a nightmare though. I've always enjoyed taking late night and early morning walks, when it's quiet and lonely. Pure solace. I remember the walks I used to have with Daeena, from Brunei Hall to Piccadilly Circus. We browsed through Bond Street till 4am. I used to go to Portland Stores at 1am with Farah (She's back today, from Dhaka!) just so I could get out for ten minutes. That was time well spent.
And apparently it's attachment time for the Nursing College students. At least there's something you look forward to seeing everyday. Hahaha. Ha.
Wi-Fi is weak today, so I'm blogging using my phone. I'm gonna miss the free wireless internet here. Hoho. Ha.
Signing out
Over and outinternet, Brunei
I won't say it's been a nightmare though. I've always enjoyed taking late night and early morning walks, when it's quiet and lonely. Pure solace. I remember the walks I used to have with Daeena, from Brunei Hall to Piccadilly Circus. We browsed through Bond Street till 4am. I used to go to Portland Stores at 1am with Farah (She's back today, from Dhaka!) just so I could get out for ten minutes. That was time well spent.
And apparently it's attachment time for the Nursing College students. At least there's something you look forward to seeing everyday. Hahaha. Ha.
Wi-Fi is weak today, so I'm blogging using my phone. I'm gonna miss the free wireless internet here. Hoho. Ha.
Signing out
Over and outinternet, Brunei
Friday, August 3, 2007
Saved By The Bed
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I slept on a proper bed for the first time this week last night. I've been sleeping on wheelchairs and floors, if I had any sleep at all. So the return to my own room was certainly welcome.
I also bought a Nintendo Wii, to prove to myself I am still that indulgent person who likes to spend, be it money or time with friends. Being in the hospital, I wasn't that person. I sacrificed my sleep, time and money in there.
I guess I do feel the need to be selfish and indulgent. All my life I've been selfless on too many occasions. This is one of those times.
People take advantage of other people's selflessness. It's a fact of life. None of my cousins, uncles or aunts even offered to take just one day off of work/school to replace me. No one even asked if I was tired of it. The only one who asked was my grandpa, and he's the one being taken care of.
It'll be me again tonight. I don't wanna argue with anyone about it. There's enough back-stabbing going on behind the scenes already.
Signing out
Over and out
I also bought a Nintendo Wii, to prove to myself I am still that indulgent person who likes to spend, be it money or time with friends. Being in the hospital, I wasn't that person. I sacrificed my sleep, time and money in there.
I guess I do feel the need to be selfish and indulgent. All my life I've been selfless on too many occasions. This is one of those times.
People take advantage of other people's selflessness. It's a fact of life. None of my cousins, uncles or aunts even offered to take just one day off of work/school to replace me. No one even asked if I was tired of it. The only one who asked was my grandpa, and he's the one being taken care of.
It'll be me again tonight. I don't wanna argue with anyone about it. There's enough back-stabbing going on behind the scenes already.
Signing out
Over and out
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Mixed Emotions & Two Thousand Minutes Of Boredom
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This guy is a Koopa Troopa, a turtle species in the Super Mario video games, whose members work for Bowser, the villain.
I felt like posting the picture, because I'm currently playing Super Mario 64, which was released about a decade ago. I've been playing it on my laptop, and I still find it so fun even though it's an old game.
There's also another reason I posted this picture. She will know. Hahaha.
I had a mixed day today.
The afternoon was wonderful. I spent it with Fee at Gadong. I thought it was worth it spending my few free hours from the hospital, with her, after a while not seeing her.
Shopping was fun. I'm probably one of the most patient guys (not including boyfriends) when it comes to shopping with girls. At least I think I am. But I don't know. I don't think it's because I'm patient. It's probably because I do enjoy it.
But the night. Oh wow. I remember now why I didn't like family gatherings that much.
I hate the back-stabbing, the feuding, the hidden agendas... All this while my grandpa lies on his bed asleep, trying to recover from whatever is wrong with him...
Oh well. I will be far away from this in one month.
Signing out
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Under The Scene Of A Starless Sky
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I've been here at the hospital since Sunday night. The only time I've been out of the hospital since then, was just now, for a few hours, to get some stuff from my house, and get some much-needed sleep on my much-missed bed.
Progress has been great though. Grandpa's steadily getting better. The doctor says that he might be fit enough to leave after two days. He's sleeping now. If it isn't for the wireless internet connection, I'd be extremely bored most of the time.
I met Vanessa and Aki yesterday at the hospital. Both unexpectedly. I met Vanessa on the way back from breakfast. Being only half-awake with only three hours of sleep the night before, it took me a while to recognise her. My encounter with Aki was when I was going back from lunch, and I saw him sitting with his family.
I guess those chance meetings, the news of my grandpa getting better, and the fact that allowances come out tomorrow, have lifted my spirits immensely. I'm still pretty tired and exhausted. I've probably only had eight hours of sleep during the last 72 hours.
I'm pretty sure tomorrow is also gonna be my turn, since everyone using the "I've got work/school" excuse to get out of it. I don't really mind, but I do need the rest once in a while.
I'm going out tomorrow afternoon. I've got to get my ass out of this place for just a few hours to mantain some sense of sanity in me.
Oh, well. It could be worse.
Signing out
Over and out
Progress has been great though. Grandpa's steadily getting better. The doctor says that he might be fit enough to leave after two days. He's sleeping now. If it isn't for the wireless internet connection, I'd be extremely bored most of the time.
I met Vanessa and Aki yesterday at the hospital. Both unexpectedly. I met Vanessa on the way back from breakfast. Being only half-awake with only three hours of sleep the night before, it took me a while to recognise her. My encounter with Aki was when I was going back from lunch, and I saw him sitting with his family.
I guess those chance meetings, the news of my grandpa getting better, and the fact that allowances come out tomorrow, have lifted my spirits immensely. I'm still pretty tired and exhausted. I've probably only had eight hours of sleep during the last 72 hours.
I'm pretty sure tomorrow is also gonna be my turn, since everyone using the "I've got work/school" excuse to get out of it. I don't really mind, but I do need the rest once in a while.
I'm going out tomorrow afternoon. I've got to get my ass out of this place for just a few hours to mantain some sense of sanity in me.
Oh, well. It could be worse.
Signing out
Over and out
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