Crime: Have a Seat

Crime rate sky-rockets here in KL. Some say it's caused by the Emergency Ordinance repeal which led to the release of some hardcore gangster into our streets and causing these havoc. Other theories may point to the long term economic imbalance that have finally led to desperate people taking desperate measures to survive (although I believe the need to rape someone is hardly considered a survival measure. There are donkeys). Some may say we are still one of the safest parts of the world, comparing to other worse-off countries. 

Political or not, shit has hit the fan and I don't think the police force have the capacity to protect us right now. And I'm not the kind of person who take comfort in comparing myself with unluckier ones. Not that I'm not grateful for what I have, I find it really selfish that I need someone else to be worse-off for me to feel good about myself. 

12 hours difference, we have a city - first world and all - witnessing a psycho riddling an entire cinema full of lead.  And this is the part of the world where people have, on average, the best standard of living, and kids curse at their parents over getting black iPhones instead of white ones for Christmas. It wasn't even the first time something like this happened. 

So on one side we have desperate people, struggling to survive, robbing and stealing (and raping) to make ends meet. And we have on the other side people so well-fed with everything they ever needed, they have nothing else to do but re-enact scenes from super hero comic strips. 

Then we have the middle - Europe - where people would specifically pickpocket tourists anywhere in the streets, because they prefer not to do it to their countrymen. Imagine the irony when tourism stimulates their collapsing economy. Well at least they don't gag you and rape you and throw you in the middle of the jungle.  

So what do we do? Besides the obvious - releasing the T-Virus and turning all humanity into mindless zombies. We protect ourselves because the police can't do it. Bolt the doors, lock the windows, look around you when walking, learn to scream, trust no one (especially not the ones in BMWs or equivalent), don't stop to help anyone, be home by 9PM. Don't eat alone, don't eat, don't buy new clothes, don't buy anything, bring less than RM 100 out at any given time. 

If you're a virgin, have sex with someone you like before you get raped. If you own a nice car, scratch it and replace the emblem with one of an inferior brand. Insure every damned thing you can, even your dog. If you live in a guarded community, buy the guards food every now and then so they won't rob your house. Lock your house when you go out. Lock it when you go in. 

Live in a jail cell. Forgo freedom. Forgo life. Set a curfew. Stock your kitchen with enough food to last you a month. Or two. Build a panic room. Build a panic room in your panic room. Build a proper toilet in that panic room. 

Sell your BMW, buy a 10-year old Hyundai Accent (if you really do want to, contact me). Learn MMA. But when approached by robbers, give them everything and don't attempt to fight back. You have more to lose than they do so MMA ain't gonna do you shit. 

Pray. Pray for either a Bay Harbor Butcher, a T-Virus or a police force competent enough to keep us safe. God won't save you. People will. But God won't hurt you either, people will. Move away from KL. Move away from crime. You can't because as long as there are people, there will be crime. There will be killing and raping and torturing and stealing and filling an entire cinema full of lead. There will be corruption and cronyism. There will be hate. There will be people taking comfort in knowing there are other people out there in far worse conditions than them.  So to Crime, I say: Have a seat, get comfy. You're here to stay as long as humanity draws breath. 

There Was Once A Famous Pomelo Tree

There was once a famous pomelo tree in Section 4. It was tall, it was great, it was quite a magnificent thing to behold. We'd meet at a very young age and we'd go on to become closest of friends. I jest when I said you were like the pomelo tree, never being able to grow taller than you already were. I jest a lot, whenever I can speak fluently without choking over every other word.

It was magnificent that the pomelo tree looked rather tall back then, with those big leaves. Not many leaves, but those still on the tree were big. Another reason why I kept relating the tree to you. But you took me for who I am, as I did for who you are. We made the best of our friendship with however little we had. It seems so that whenever the rain fell and the night felt bleakest, you were there. I know we all have our own problems to deal with and we can't always be there for each other. But the fact that you were always there comforted me.

It was funny now that I recall, I have never seen that pomelo tree bear fruit. It was either that or you never bothered to share the works of your tree with us. We'd sit in a coffee shop with the table full of empty glasses, comparing our dream cars and analyzing our future. We'd often laugh about how super cars are a complete waste to most people because they are either too old or too stupid to drive them like how they should be driven. We'd talk about how it would be like if we were rich, the amount of people we would piss off. And then we always agree that God is fair to keep us at the bottom of the food chain. "Wipe your face, you're sweating."

The good thing about it is that we will always walk from school to that little bus stop and wait for the bus. And we'd stand behind that telephone booth, right in front of the police station, smoking. The good thing about it is that we can sit around all day without having to do anything or spend any money, and still be able to have fun.

The pomelo tree is gone now. It signified your past, it is where you were from. It's passing is not a loss, but progress. You have learnt from what you did and where you came from, and you are preparing for a future that will allow the next generation to do the same. By letting the pomelo tree go, you are turning a new leaf, preparing for the next step in your life.

There was once a famous pomelo tree in Section 4, the tree that was our roots. You are embarking on your next journey now, and the only thing I can hope is that we can still be a part of it. Because this friendship is not of convenience or of similar interest. This is a friendship of deep understanding, and we both would agree that no money in the world can buy this kind of relationship.

I'm glad for what happened, for who I met. I'm glad to have met you, to have met that once famous pomelo tree, to have met everyone else strung around this web of brotherhood.

Here's To The Days

The days we were great, the days we loved, the days we were excited about every coming day, the days we couldn't be left without each other. Here's to the days when we were all smiles and all fun and play and we can't get enough of just staring at each other. 

Here's to the end of those days, here's to the end of the torture that came after the excitement. Here's to the mistakes we made, to the times we felt we fell short of each other's expectations. Here's to the shit we had to endure to make things work. To the lack of communication, to the lack of understanding. To wasting each other's time. To hating each other deep down inside but never had the guts to bring them forward. 

Here's to expectations. Here's to hoping one would live to them. Here's to constantly giving second chances, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and never seeing change. To disappointments, hate, love, hate, disappointment, loss.  

Here's to the good times we had, the places we went although not many. Here's to the dreams we shared although very brief, the differences we had and how hard we tried to make it work. Here's to the boring times that turned out eventful after all, the little things we did that meant so much to me.  

 Here's to you wanting to prove you're right. Here's to you thinking I hate you. Here's to me not being able to explain why I shunned you off. To me not being able to live up to your dreams. Here's to you being able to find someone better, I'm sure it won't be hard seeing I was so low on your scale. 

Here's to the end of it. 

Here's to good-bye. 

Here's to an opportunity to be friends again, maybe, up to you. But not yet. 

Now That We're Here

Source: 

http://taotauajer.blogspot.com/2012/03/sadis-video-episod-akhir-doraemon-sad.html

A colleague of mine, he brought a Ukulele today. Immediately I thought of you. F is for Frolic through all the flowers, U is for Ukulele. N is for nose picking, chewing gum and sand licking here with my best buddy. 

But you weren't always a Spongebob fan. I remember we used to have all issues of Doraemon comic books. Back in the days an issue would come out every fortnight, and  we would go buy them from the nearby bookstore. The book store still looks the same today. You would read them, as if you know what they mean. Then you would draw on them. It made me mad when you drew on them. Because you would make happy characters sad or angry. You would give them silly brows that changes their emotions and it annoyed the hell out of me because these comic books were very limited. 

Mom bought a Doraemon video from the store, and you would always ask us to play it for you. Once you learnt how to operate the player by yourself, you would play it every morning at 8 AM. Every single day. You would sit in front of the tv and you would sing along and dance along. 

I remember you always wait for mom to come back from work. If she isn't home by 7PM you would call her office and cry for mom. Her boss would answer the phone all the time. 

A little while later you started getting fascinated with Garfield. There were comic strips you would cut off the daily papers, and you would make scrap books full of them. Then you started drawing them too. Initially it was tracing from actual comics, then you went on to making your own strips. I remember we made a frame for one of your comic drawings. If I only remember where it is kept now. 

Times were quite bad, and I don't know if you were aware of it. Mom and dad always fought. I tried my best to not let you see them. I would always carry you up to the room and lock ourselves inside. Then they eventually broke away from each other and you had to stay with mom on weekdays and us with dad. But that didn't lessen the fun we had. 

You were in high school, when things turned for the worst. Our family was an broken as it could ever be. Everybody hate going home because we would always have to deal with bitchy parents and fights and fights and more fucking fights we all hate. Your brother and I were outside hanging out with friends all the time so we didn't have to deal with those fights. We didn't have money. Dad fucked up. You started skipping school and smoking. You would hang out with the wrong bunch in the park and learn all the wrong stuff. And you did them just so we would notice you. So we did, the day you came home with all those cuts in your arms. You got our attention. 

After that things were good. Straight As, one year after another. You would know a lot of skanky friends, hang out with them, but never stoop to their level. Not even once. You knew how to return home to your family and you think of us before making any decision outside. We are all grateful for that. 

So you started to dream of things you wanted. When other materialistic girls wanted Burberries and Guccis and Pradas, you wanted llama farms and polar bears and pandas. Your fighting fishes were Doraemon and Rudolph.

Most girls dream of meeting Prince Charming who'll be very rich and give them everything they want. All you talk about is making money and buying your very own Impreza Version 10. We'd play RO together, although just very briefly I loved it. I hope we can do it more often even now when you are about to leave. 

I call you stupid not because you are stupid, but because you are silly. You would make mistakes, laugh at yourself, and let it go. That is something I have to learn from you. 

Look at you now. No longer the little girl with that red flowered dress with the sour face, no longer the round-rimmed glasses girl who looked like Jackie Chan's son. You are no longer insecure of your physical look, well not always. Your ears look just fine. Who would've thought someone in our family could afford a scholarship from a world-class university. 

Times will be tough from now on, but know that it will only be temporary. You will be alone, but you will never have to deal with things by yourself. We may be hundreds of miles away, but we will always be there for you, just like old times. No more weekend visits to Mid Valley, though. 

But chin up, this is for a brighter future. We will adapt, we always do. People reject everything in the beginning, but we always adapt. Go out and face it with everything you have. Things will get better and you will eventually love the new life you will have. 

You are the second best thing that happened to our family, second to our little doggy. 

Go and do the best you can. You are the best that ever came out of this family, and you will be better than anyone else can ever be.  You will open a new chapter in your book of life. You will pursuit a greater goal, and face a greater challenge. And you will succeed. What ever happens we are already very very proud of you. 

Alternate Realities You Wish You Didn't Have

I have been addicted to drugs for more than 10 years now. I've got no job because I've got no confidence in myself. I cannot hold a decent job because I feel useless. I spend my time in and out of rehabilitation centers, jobless, purposeless. 

I was one of the smartest kids in school back in the day. Then I met a new group of friends who did drugs every now and then, but never serious enough to deal any damage to myself. I had a job, and I was doing very well. I had a very beautiful girlfriend and I loved her very much. I kept telling my best friends I was going to marry her. 

One day my car was hit by a drunk driver and my girlfriend died on the way to hospital. I fell into depression and started using drugs to hide away from the pain. Everything changed. I was never the same again. I have been addicted to drugs for more than 10 years now.


I think I had a terrible childhood. I think I am physically and mentally stronger than most people around me, because I had a very strict dad. Dad used to come home from work once a week, and he would beat me up everytime I fall short of his expectations.
He was a no-bulshit kind of person. I never once had a warm memory of my dad. There were a few times when I bled from his beating.
My friend fell into depression and tried to commit suicide. I don't understand how a person with First World problems can have so little mental strength to over come these simple problems that he has to commit suicide. I have been through far worse, and I am doing fine.
Because I had a terrible childhood, and I because of that I bet I can deal with anything in the world.

I am unemployed. I have been in and out of jobs for years now since graduation. It's because I never liked doing all the things my jobs wanted me to do. And it's because I am searching for my true calling. I may find it, this calling. I may not. I may end up poor and homeless, but it doesn't matter. So long as I keep doing what I love to do it's okay. Right now I love playing computer games and just doing nothing much. Maybe tomorrow I will finally be awoken from this dream of denial and irresponsibility, but not today. Today I am still able to relax and not do anything I don't want to do.

I screwed up big time. I always screw up, and I never learn from it. It's because I keep getting attracted to the wrong type of people. I screwed up my SPM because I had bad friends. I couldn't make the cut to study overseas because I had bad friends. I kept failing in college because my girlfriend demands too much of my time.
I got a job, and within the first 5 months I managed to con the company of quite a good sum of money. I am smart that way. I can make it in the world, eventhough I wasn't very good in school. I hoped my parents would be proud of me for once. So I got a new flashy car.
The next month I got caught red-handed conning money out of the company's accounts, and I got myself sacked. Now I can't return to working within the industry, and have not enough money to pay for the car I just brought. Stupid company. If they didn't want me to con their money, they could have made their systems foolproof. Bunch of idiots.


I am married. My wife is expecting. And I am spending most of my time with my girlfriend. I tell my friends I am finally doing what I like and I will follow my heart on this because I will not live forever. But I don't really know what I am doing.
All my life I have been under strict  care by my parents. I didn't know why they didn't let me do this or that, just that they will severely punish me if I did them. So I spent all my childhood evading anything I think would make them unhappy, even though deep down inside I really wanted to do them.
I tried breaking their rules once, and mom raged with a knife around her neck threatening to kill herself if I wouldn't quit smoking. I still smoke now, but they don't know. I am finally able to do what I want to do now, and it feels good although I don't really know what is happening to me now.
So I got married because I got my wife pregnant, but I am in love with another woman.


I own nothing to my name. No car, no house, no trust fund. I dream of a fancy Porsche and a big-ass bungalow with my very own pool. But that is just a dream, and I know it. I wake up and I deal with the real life ahead of me. I am a snorkeling guide in an island. People say I am useless, without future, without dreams. People look down on me because I don't have a car, no money, no house, no career.
But I feel sad for them. I pity their lives, how difficult they have to endure their every day hardships so they can own material things that don't matter. I pity their greed for money they do not need and riches they do not know how to use. I feel sad that they have to work so hard to own a small little lap pool, when I awake every morning to face the entire South China Sea.
I love my life because I know what life really means. I don't care if others look down on me. I pity them. I hope they would one day wake up from this mindlessness they seem to be trapped in willingly.

I'm not yet 30. I have cancer. But I don't whine about it. People around me complain about their puny work stress and school exam problems. They complain about not having enough money to spend, not being able to buy this and that.
The doctor tells me I am lucky to have the cancer caught at this very early stage, that it can be easily cured. But I have to face painful chemotherapy. Over and over again until it ends. And it will never end because it will always come back. Life changed since that day. It will never be undone, it will never return to normal. No matter how I pray and wish for it to.
People around me whine and complain about their puny little problems. I don't. I take what life throws at me and if it sucks I show it the middle finger. Because I fucking went through this shit, and nothing else scares me anymore.

I was 24 when it happened. I was pretty smart in school, my mom spent a good deal of her time working her ass off to pay for my college bills. She loved me nonetheless. And I was aiming for a good scholarship so she won't have to pay for my education anymore. It was time I pay her back for all she did.
She was going to India to visit family. It has been too many years, and she finally got the holiday she deserved. I drove her to the airport, it was around 5 in the morning. I was exhausted from studying for exams the night before, but I insisted to send her because it meant a lot to her this trip. And it meant a lot to me too.
I was driving home when I dozed off and crashed my car. My mom found out the next day only when she arrived in India. It was a transit with a long stop-over because it was cheapest. She booked the next flight home.
I was 24 when it happened. And if I hadn't died, my mom wouldn't have been so depressed and kept blaming herself for my death. She wouldn't have sank into dementia and ended up as sickly as she is now. I could have been able to care for her and take her on the holidays we were always talking about when we were shit-poor.