About Me

Life's about expectations. Expectations set by family, friends, society, employers and yourselves. Life's all about living up to them. I've never been able to live up to my parents' expectations. But then again my parents never had much expectations for me. I study, but could never do much. I was never that good in sports. But I was good at staying invisible. 

By 13 I enrolled myself into an organization that thrive highly on expectations and meeting them. There I learnt the importance of common sense and society's demands for any good Samaritan. I had trouble being out of invisibility. Responsibilities and consequences, I didn't know what they meant. 

In time, it was second nature to me. I would learn about what it takes to be a leader and a follower, and talker and a listener. What would be the correct action for any situation. When some things have to be done, they have to be done. There are no such things as excuses if it's not done. Before I knew it, I was already a person with expectations, not set by anyone else around me but by myself. I always know what I want and I always want to get it. No excuses. 

I got myself involved in little cyber gaming groups with some friends, and all I wanted to be is the best. The best, the best, the best. I now learnt that I am a competitive person. I destroyed so many mice the cyber cafe owner banned me from using any of his. Desperately competitive. Everything I do, I wanted to be the best. There's no place but the top. I'd always tell my team mates: Don't look, be looked at. Don't talk about, be the talk-about. 

Year after year passed, I set expectations higher than I knew I could ever achieve. I wanted High Distinctions for every single paper I sat for in college. I wanted to be The Best Climber in Malaysia. It was too much for me. I lost track of the actual purpose of studying, to learn and prepare for the world, and chose to study the lecturer's mind and giving him/her exactly what he/she wants. It gets me what I wanted, but not what I'm supposed to be getting. 

Every time I climb, I would tell myself: If this was a competition I'd only have one try at it. One. When I fall halfway, I would punish myself for my incompetence. You're weak!!!!!!! F**king weak ass!!!!! At this rate you can NEVER be number 1! NEVER! Words will constantly repeat itself in my head. I will not settle for second place. I cannot keep falling off of walls. I needed to stick every handhold like it was a jug and move. Every move has to be fluid. Every route MUST be cleaned. On Sight! No excuses! I'm not tired! I'm not hungry! I don't feel pain! My fingers are NOT bleeding! 

I thought the only way to make sure I clean every single route on first try is by punishing myself when I don't. I break more skin punching the wall than climbing it. I would scream, yell, destroy things. Sometimes even remove safety mats from below me so if I fell it'd be straight to the ground. MUST MUST CLEAN!!! YOU WEAK LOSER!!!!!! NO F**KING EXCUSES!!!!!! 
Come to think of it, it was actually quite stupid. I wondered how my friends looked at me back then. 

Fine, I became good. Very good. I was always hitting new national standings, scaring route setters and other climbers. They'd talk they'd point and they'd judge. But I got what I wanted. No I didn't. I lost it all. Climbing became work. It wasn't fun anymore. One day I punched the wall after I fell off and broke my hand. I was out for 2 months. After my return, I officially retired from competitions. 


Now I look back, I was an angry idiot. It has been years since then, and my constant motto now is to 'Rise Above' everyone else and the petty feelings they have. I can say I'm doing quite well, given my past. But I don't think it's really that good, though. Now I get bullied at work, and I would just walk away. These things done onto me may jeopardize my reputation, but still I choose to walk away. I'm beginning to lose the perspective of expectations. I'm beginning to forget who I am. Sometimes it all comes back. Not always when I need it to, sadly. I need my fire back. I need to be angry again. 

Life in Still Motion by Constellations of Sparky

Black and white monochrome. Saturations of color  that dance in our eyes. The recents that make us laugh and the fadeds that draws slight smiles. The good times and the bad. Times long gone, unable to return forever. Times we wished we had printed in gloss papers. The far and the near. That one-way course that history we cannot remember all of that 35mm that 120 that CF. 

Grains and scratches, blurs and warps. Moments caught on sensor tells the story of what was, and who did.  The places we go, and the people we meet along the way. The people we forget to remember, the people we remember always to forget. The story behind that smile, that frown, that grin. The way one looks at another, and they way one gets it back. The discard of old and the start of new. The creation. The have beens and the haven't beens. Friends families significant others. At every fork we choose and at every choice we live. 

Time has gone by. Life has been lived. Paths crossed and people met. Future became present and present became past. The sun rises and sets. And the sun rises again and sets again. We look back at what we have done. Planted a tree. Built a house. Met a special person. Started a life. Watched them grow up and out of our hands. Watched them start a life.

 The coffee shop that was there. The building we worked in. The little street we walked pass. The bus stop where we waited for the bus that never arrived. The corner we learnt to smoke. The lady that made the best noodles. The driving instructor who passed away. That horse machine. That snooker table. The teacher who taught us. The teacher who caught us skipping school. The book that educated us. The people we gave it to after so he could be educated too. The people we meet through classes and drinks and karaokes and smokes and climbings and kayakings and trekkings. The people we were close to, and are no longer in contact with. The people who stuck by when the going got tough. The people who were there when it was good. 

Life in Still Motion is the movement we see before and after the picture. The things we said, the reason we were there. The people we chose to surround us with. The people who were left out. What we did before and what happened after. The places we would return to but never again feel the same joy as we did when the picture was taken. The smell of that restaurant that will linger in our heads even after years. The sounds of chatter that will still ring in our ears even in silence. The person we wished we could ask out and the person we wished we had the guts to talk to. 

You're stranded

You're all over the place

The car's dead

You're a million miles from grace

The morning

Has taken over your face

But in darkness

You worked your way through the maze

The sand grains

I felt them under my shoes

Suspended

I could have sworn you were here

Untimely

When you were taken from me

Now I'm stranded

Kettle's unstable

Black and white round-abouts

Still as water

Movement in no motion

Little sunny little dry

Faded into background

Sounds of laughter

Silence all over

Then you can take it from me

For all that I couldn't see

When you regret it crying over and over again

Still life's all you retain

Deceptive

When the picture is not told

The right way

As how the stories unfold

In silver

Markings of lifetime exposed

In ways that

Is positively nothing

The sound drains

I heard them under my sheets

Expired

No longer feel those heartbeats

Unkindly

Then you were taken from me

Now I'm stranded, I'm stranded

Kettle's unstable

Black and white round-abouts

Still as water

Movement in no motion

Little sunny little dry

Faded into background

Sounds of laughter

Silence all over

Then you can take it from me

For all that I couldn't see

When you regret it crying over and over again

Still life's all you retain

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CIeaJV4EV6g

Globalization: Deal With It

A long time ago, the west preached globalization to the world. How it will help the world as a whole, reducing inefficiency and other crap driving the same lane. This was when they were trying to push western brands over to this side of the globe. All was good when big names like Mc Donald's, Coca-Cola and Nestle reached our shores and almost immediately rendered all local brands obsolete.

Then the tides changed. These big companies realized there was a way to make more while spending even less than before: building plants here in the east and utilizing local labor for less than a dollar per laborer per day - greatly exaggerated figure, but you get my point. They would spend more on researching and developing machines to produce these products where even idiots can operate without any risks of mental decapitation. Monthly rentals costs more than what the companies pay in Thailand for a year, and one American's pay can be used for ten in Malaysia - again, you get my gist. So they had all plants in the west shut down and employees laid off. Indeed, they don't look too smart now. East Asia, especially, received so much foreign investments the 20 or-so years were named The East Asian Miracle. The miracle then ended with a historic fall in the late 90s. I'm sure we don't have to be acquainted with that incident. 

A decade has passed since this incident, and companies and employees all over the world have started to accept and play by this globalization game, carefully avoiding jagged edges. Every country will now basically specialize in one or two industries while leaving the rest up to imports from other countries. You wish!
Despite the said plan being the best way to maximize a country's funds and improve efficiency, that's not how it's headed. Individual countries still try their very best to make something of their own and throwing it in the world to see just how bad they perform. And when they don't do well, blame it on biased consumers. What bias is there in choosing between an RPG and a combat knife when going for war, and going for the former? A classic example would be Malaysia's Proton ( we don't talk about Perodua because they're just re-badged versions of Daihatsu, which in no way is local to me). Even after 28 years, the car maker cannot seem to propel themselves any further than West Port, Klang. In the words of every Business person, The World's Resources Are Limited. Therefore Proton is an utter waste of steel and plastic (more the latter). Give that to the Germans and they make you a Volks Wagen Golf GTi. It's like your mother insisting to cook, when she know all to well she can't, and have you hug the porcelain throne for hours after. 

Then there's the entertainment industry. Americans make Music, Motion Picture and TV Drama, while the UK does Football. These guys are the best in the world. Let us just forget 'Freedom of Passion' and stop spending what seem like pointless money on our local football teams and movie industry, and just admire the best available. May I then suggest we use that money to eliminate the only natural disaster we have here in Malaysia: flooding. Unless you call Faulty Traffic Lights a natural disaster. OK. Two natural disasters. 

So what are we good at? We're one of the few top contenders for the Service Industry in South East Asia, mainly banking. We're also good at rubber tapping and oil palm harvesting. And we're also very good at glorifying Nasi Lemak and charging consumers a bomb for a plate. Examples would be Madam Kwan ( seriously, who goes there unless to be seen going there?), Oldtown White Coffee and PapaRich. Just recently Singaporeans claimed rightful ownership to Bak Kut Teh, and I heard WTO rejected their attempt to register and own it. Maybe they went to the wrong O. You Singaporeans have everything! Besides an actual beach. Take Bak Kut Teh from us and both Klang and Tanjung Sepat will fall into eternal oblivion. 

I say focus on what we're good at, and leave the rest to the best. We, after all, have cheap labor and land prices compared to many parts of the world, and will still enjoy Foreign Direct Investments for at least the next few decades. That way we can use available resources and channel them to proper uses, and free up more disposable income to the People by taking away that ridiculous 300% Car Import Tax while increasing Spending Power. Beats building Putrajaya, I always say. But what do I know, I'm only a degree graduate no longer in practice. 

Myvi Convoy: Theoretical Fun and Real Nightmare

Whenever we're on Interstate Highways we see convoys. Porsches, Harleys, Ferraris and other whatnots. So it seemed fun, convoys. So we sat down one day and decided that we should have a convoy too. What sort of cars should we all bring for the convoy? Porsches? Ferraris? Hayabushas? No. Because we're all poor and sad, and cars in Malaysia are either Oh-My-Effing-God-300-Percent expensive or Piece-Of-Crap self destructive, we all happen to have a Perodua Myvi lying around in our porches. Why do we all have one of those, you ask? Because that's the only bloody car Fifty Thousand bucks can buy you that won't fall apart between Tg Malim and Kampung Keling. 

So now we need an event to convoy to, we thought. Along comes a friend inviting us all to his wedding at Mentakab. YAY, we thought. A chance to bring out all the Myvis for an awesome convoy! We started counting the number of Myvis we could muster, and there were 9. Nine!!! There's no need for so many, so we took 5 instead. Five Myvis will be travelling to Mentakab. Cool. 

We always imagined convoys to be cool, fun and exciting ( they all mean the same but sound different). With an elephant's enthusiasm, we set out after having met up and distributed Talkies to every car. That's seven talkies, including the Wedding Mobile and another Proton. We'll leave Section 8 in PJ, drive to Section 16, to Mont Kiara and use the DUKE Highway towards Genting. Smiles ran ear to ear as every single one of us departed, knowing for sure we'll love every moment of this trip. 

As soon as we left, Talkies blared, one idiot after another screaming bulshit, myself included. From this moment on, disasters stroke us, one after another. As we approached Rothman's Round-about, cars were already left behind. Because these talkies only have 2-KM radial reception, and the cars were further apart than that, directions did not get through. Then just as we were already getting frustrated by missing cars, the worst thing happened: we started following random Myvis by accident. Let me explain how this happened. 

Perodua Myvi was sold in many various colors, including Black, Grey, Blue-Grey, Silver, Red and White. So happened our cars were all Black, Grey and Silver, and these colors happen to be best-sellers. On top of that, because the Myvi is a 'Cheap and Cheerful' car, every Tom, Dick, Harry and Sally owns one. Imagine now how many Myvis you will bump into on the road. Not exactly a Buffori. On top of that, cars costing 50 grand won't exactly come with cool numbers like 1 or 65 or 168. We'd rather use the 3k to replace the lousy sound system in the Myvi with a Bang & Olufsen (as if 3k can buy us anything from B&O). If you want a cheap car, get  a Myvi. If you want a spacious car, get a Myvi. If you want a cool car, get a Myvi. If you want good resale value, get a Myvi. 

So, yes. WRG 7419 looked quite similar to WRA 2974 at 11 pm. And Silver is Silver. We decided to use hand phones now. Called everyone to meet up at the KFC along Jalan University. We met, and the beautiful smiles just moments ago seen were now gone. Far gone. From now on, the Wedding car will lead. Best decision, we all thought. Anyone randomly following a wrong carefully wedding-dressed, champagne colored Hyundai Sonata would either be the unluckiest or dumbest person in the world. No more problems this time, only that we had to use toll-free roads all the way to Genting Highway. What would've taken 5 minutes on the DUKE cost us 45. By the time we were on the Genting road, it was already pass midnight.

There's a crucial moral to this story, in case you haven't yet caught it. We all either have a Myvi at home or drive one of our own. If you ever decide to have a convoy to God-Knows-Where in Myvis with talkies as communicators at night when you can't agree whether or not to use toll-free roads, don't. Do Not! If it's a convoy you want, go buy a Nissan Sunny 120Y. At least you won't end up following someone else. And that car is surprisingly reliable, even after 20 years. And you get a black Absorber Bumper too. No Bang and Olufsen there. 

Have It Go Around

We've been conditioned to think and believe the world is limited. Everything is limited, that's why they come with a price. And the higher the demand is for something, the higher the price. Fair enough. For the rest of this post, I will attempt to show you how 'unlimited' this world actually is. 

Diversity

We live in a diverse world, which many may agree is the main reason the world has never seen a single decade of peace. People kill people simply because their ideologies do not tally. But diversity is present for a reason. Let's not look far, and keep the experiment simple. Take for example: 

Specimen A

30 year old male, corporate employee. Trades his life for silly amounts of money, with an optimistic vision that one day he'll be able to make it big in the industry. Lives in KL, probably the most status-driven city in the country ( I say probably because I'm just assuming. If Penang is better so be it). Being a status-driven city, everyone wants a BMW M3 and those wooden LV cuff link collections. Does Happy Hour after work actually to avoid bad rush hour traffic, but ends up being a very expensive habit. But it's okay, because that way he can 'socialize' with his managers and that's good for his career. 

Specimen B

35 year old male, doctor. Also trades his life for even sillier amounts of money, also an optimist. But this optimist finds peace in healthy kids in rural undeveloped worlds. He loves trekking and living in the wild when he's free, and is an avid waterfall hunter. He also believes in the preservation of nature's virginity, so he'll never divulge any undiscovered trails to anyone else, especially those 4x4 morons. He drools over MSR 4-season tents and Vibram Gore Tex boots, and drives a 20 year old 5.5l Turbo Charged Land Rover because an M3 can't go up off road slopes. 

Both these people are considered professionals, heavily invested on proper education. Yet when they emerge eligible to the working class, they choose ways to best fit their career into their preferred lifestyles. How many people with RM 10 Mil in their pocket would actually go up to Next Cars now and drive themselves out a Gallardo? How many people would even think about owning a yatch? Sure these things are 'Nice To Haves' but when you'd actually put your list of Goals out, would any of these items be in it? I would also now tell you that 20% of the people reading this ( which is not a lot, I admit) will say 'Yes! I want to own a Gallardo!' Others say 'I'd rather go travel the world' or 'I prefer the fun of gambling them off'. 

The point is, everyone is made and raised differently so not everyone will want the same thing. Some see cars as the ultimate form of fun (like me) while others can't seem to be able to find any purpose than driving them to and from work or Jusco. Diversity in the world creates balance. Some like Vanilla Ice-creams while others like Chocolate. They're the reason there's enough  iPhones to go around. 

Multiplier Effect

When your best friend opened up his new restaurant one day, you brought all your friends over to pay a visit. You say you're all being good friends by supporting. When it's time to pay, you ask for a 'special' discount. What part of support is asking for a stupid discount? Isn't supporting supposed to be paying the full amount? 

One client asked me to sell his house, and told me he usually pay less than 1 % Commission (note: market commission rate for Real Estate Agents are 3%) because agents work very little and earn way too much. He was also quite proud of himself when he told me that. How would he know I work very little? Everyone tries their best to pay the least for everything they want, to a point where people actually take pride on their sly bargaining skills. I say it's cow shit. Fine, Bali markets are cut throat mongers. And Chinese businessmen are not famous for being honest. But those guys are all idiots.

In Economics, there's a term called the Multiplier Effect. For those not familiar, you haven't done what I told you to do: Go Borders and buy 'Business for Dummies'. 

Imagine if everyone would do one similar thing when they receive money:

Spend 80%, Save 20%

John gets RM1000 selling cakes. He spends RM 800 and Saves RM 200

John buy Shirts from Shawn for RM 500 and Toiletries from Jane for RM 300

Shawn spends RM 400 and saves RM 100

Shawn buys an MP3 player for RM 400 from Sam

Jane spends RM 240 and saves RM 60

Jane buys birthday cakes from John for RM 100 and other food for RM 140 from John

Sam spends RM 320 and saves RM 80

Sam buys bread from John for RM 200 and Shirts from Shawn for RM 120

Shawn spends RM 96 and saves RM 24

Shawn buys cakes from John for RM 96

Lets stop here, and take your time to slowly analyze the situation above. Trade among 4 people, selling mostly commodities has transformed John's initial RM 1000 to RM 3680 where RM 3216 were spent and RM 464 saved. Take away the initial RM 1000 for any reasons you see fit, and we see RM 2216 still free to roam the open market, and still growing after each trade. I know, it's controlled environment and it's too ideal and bla bla bla. But if the essence is there, chances are real world situations would not fall very far from it. And yes, the RM 3216 did not go back to him. But RM 464 went to the bank, and that's the money he'll use if he ever takes out a loan for expansion. And Shawn, Sam and Jane did buy cakes from John using the money initially used by John himself. Imagine now the world trades Trillions of Dollars a year. 

The point of this little experiment is to prove that if you let loose your guards on how much other people earn by your cost of buying something, you'll also be sure that these money lost to over-priced items will come back to you in other forms and from someone else entirely. So long as there's no government intervention involved, the money will circulate all around and eventually return to you. Because you reap more than you sow. 

Air Cond Inertia

So I'm driving on a straight, maybe doing 10 over the limit. The day is hot, sun glares bouncing off everything metallic in front of me, which happens to be virtually everything in front of me. My car air conditioner is on full blast, but I can't feel them because they're all facing nothing. Before I knew it, I've almost missed my exit off the highway. I glanced at the rearview mirror to my left and, having checked there was nothing to my left, banked hard trying my best to avoid the incoming divider. For a brief moment, maybe a split second or two, I felt cool air brush my face. Then it was gone.

Then I realized that air are physical particles that are subject to Inertia. To those not familiar with this term, go jump off a building. Kidding.

Inertia is the resistance of any physical object to a change in its state of motion. For example when you're driving at 120 km/h, hit the brakes, and feel your body and everything in your car fly forward. When you're driving at 120 km/h, everything in your car is actually at the same speed, although stagnant. Then when you hit the brakes, you and your Winnie the Pooh tissue box flies front because you cannot adjust to the reduction of speed as fast as the car could ( thanks to Brembo, mostly). I love Wiki.

So the same theory applies to your air conditioner.

When you're driving straight, RED Arrows indicate air-cond direction and YELLOW Arrows indicate Inertia direction. You get pushed back deeper into your seat every time you squeeze your pedal, although intensity of this depends fully on how powerful your car is. May I recommend the Aston Martin V12 Vantage. All's well and kept exactly at its place, even your Winnie the Pooh tissue box.

Then,

You bank hard left as you were about to miss your turning and in KL, missing a turning in a highway is almost as bad as wearing rapper hoodies out under hot sun, in KL. So hard left, and notice gravity starts to pull you to the right. This also depends on the turning power of your car. May I recommend, also, the Aston V12 Vantage. Your tissue box flies to the right. Your heavily Bio Therm-ed face smeared the power window. You feel a brief gush of cool air. YELLOW Arrows indicate Inertia and RED Arrows indicate air-cond direction altered from Inertia.

All physical matter, air particles including, were travelling in 120 km/h in one direction (to the east for example). Then you suddenly swerved North, giving these particles no time to adjust itself therefore colliding with each other in the direction against the one you are trying to head. Hence beautifully Ionized 16 degC air brushing the little fur you have on your face ( Applicable to Chinese only) for the little moment, because life's all about these little moments.

So next time when you're driving under killer hot sun, and you're too lazy to take either of your hands off the  shifters to direct your air cond blowers toward your face, take a hard left ( or right if yours is a left-hand drive) every now and then to enjoy brief moments of cool air.

Disclaimer: The writer is not an expert driver. All his experimental ideas are pure fabrications of his unstable imagination only. He is not Isaac Newton therefore this theory is not sound and cannot be used as a source in any Academic writings.
 Do not try this experiment, and even if you do, not with the Aston Martin V12 Vantage. However if you do own an Aston Martin V12 Vantage, kindly oblige yourself to letting the writer test this experiment out with your car. 

A Trip Down Passo Dello Stelvio

It was almost seven. Cold. I had my hoodie jacket on, somehow still not enough to keep what's left of last night's storm out. There goes the final drag of my cigarette. As I exhale, I see the smoke gush out of my lungs into the air. The smoke does look more beautiful in the morning. To my right the sun tries to penetrate thick cloud and fog.

As moments passed, temperature around me started to rise. My car, orange with a silver stripe running from head to tail. Lights put on low, the Y-shaped LEDs making presence known. The engine lets out a muffled low rumble, almost shaking the ground beneath. Fog slowly thickening from condensation, falling lower and lower into the bottom of the valley. More is revealed. Black tarmac slithering down miles after miles of endless zigs and zags. Straight after hairpin after straight after hairpin, into eternity. I take in a deep breath. The smell of fresh and crisp northern Italy, home to the bull beside me. Eager to ram down the slopes. Hold on. The time will come. 

I got in, pulled the door down. Safety belts. Engine temperature. All check. Wait. The trip has to be taken with windows down, so down you go. Both of yous. I tapped the fuel pedal, and a roar echoes through the mountainside into the fog below. I tapped it again, and the roar lifted the hair on my hands. I think it's time, I told the bull. Right hand on the cold steel stick. No DSGs. Real men shift sticks and slam on heavy, manly, clutches. 

I engaged Gear 1 and immediately floored the gas. In the console, the red tC light flashed for a moment then disappeared. Then Gear 2, steel locking onto steel. The brute power of the car had me stuck helpless onto the seat. Gear 3, and I'm already well over a hundred and forty. Gear 4. First turn. Clutch, toe on brake, heel on gas, heel off gas, Gear 2, clutch off, brakes off, right turn. Screeches were heard as rubber struggles to keep a hold on the wet road. tC flashed, and stopped. As the turn ended, I took the car to fifth in less than two seconds.

Straight. Hairpin. Straight. Hairpin. The engine's roar escalated to scream. Scream to roar and roar to scream again. Gear ups and gear downs. Accelerate, brake, screech, spin, accelerate, brake, screech, spin. Over and over again and again. No radio. No need for radio. An orchestra plays behind me, bouncing off every cliff  and ravine and tree and rock and sand and soil and grass and whatever else they've got up there which I was too busy to notice.

At the entrance of every hairpin I slammed onto the brakes. Carbon ceramics worked hard with Traction Control to prevent slippage pumped out by the five hundred horsed V10. They had to. The pride and glory of the tag depends on it. Rear-wheel-drive occasionally caused spins, which is almost immediately overcome. With the driving skills of a bed-ridden shrimp, I time and time again thanked god for the creation of ABS, tC, EBD, BTW, CMI, FML, FTW and what-nots. 

After about three million hairpins, I finally came to a straight. The sun had already unveiled most parts of the valley now. I saw a breakfast restaurant ahead, and decided it's time to call it a day. I got out of the car, took a deep breath. Ahhh. The smell of burnt rubber and tarmac. I looked up at the road where I came, could still hear the screams and screeches. Most magnificent. 

 One glorious road and one glorious bull. Today, they met and they exchanged views. One of form and function and rules and consequences. The other of brutality and rebellion and freedom and Ultimacy. Today they met and they exchanged views. That smell. That awesome beautiful smell. Burnt rubber and smoked water rising from tarmac. That awesome beautiful smell. Good morning.

I took the last drag off my cigarette before killing it into the ashtray. Eminem playing behind, my dog sleeping on my blanket. 1.30 AM. I close the Top Gear magazine and tucked it somewhere between The Ghost and Abarat. Time to sleep.