I'm Not Drunk, I'm Just High

3 hours into the drinking session. We went from playing COD4 and SoulCaliber4 in PS3 to playing Burnout and KOF in PS2. 6 bottles. Bacardi, Southern Comfort, The Macallan, JD, Black and Martell VSOP. 2 bottles of Hoegaarden, 4 Heinekens, 2 Becks. 5 of us. Some idiotic Owl City song is playing in Alex's iPhone now. We all hate it, but it's still playing. Danny got challenged into a 5-second with the Black, and is now puking helplessly. Eric is out like a bulb. Eu Jun tries to sleep. Eric is taking too much space on the bed. Alex is now whistling to some Glee song.

2:45am. I know I don't feel that drunk, but maybe it's just my head telling me I'm still OK. Danny comes out of the bathroom telling us he's good. My guess is he'll sleep in 5 minutes. We're all singing to Accidentally In Love now. I feel like a smoke. Maybe I am high. Else I won't be writing this. It looks messed up, this post. But it's OK. 

"Pushing is when you know that you've got too much," says Alex. Danny is still drinking. Honestly, pukers are just wasting the drinks. They are all starting fall asleep, one by one. Don't think I can climb well tomorrow. Feel like a drink. VSOP and Coke. No. It's getting too late. Maybe just a smoke and then off to bed. Or I can drive home. Or not. See, I think I'm a tad bit more than just High.

Eric snores. Eu Jun is down. Danny's surfing the net using his iPhone cos I'm hogging his computer writing this crappy post. This'll probably be the worst post I'll ever write in Rantsack. But heck, who's gonna read it anyway right. And Alex scrolls through his miserable list of songs.

My sister called to inform me that she could reach out to our house keys stash using some little pole. That's scary, cause all our house and car keys are kept on that table. And I probably shouldn't be telling anyone about this too. But who cares. We're gonna stash them somewhere else from now on. Drunk. No, high. Need to smoke.

Snore, music, singing, snore. I'll be sleeping on the floor tonight. Yea, no mattresses even. So much for being a good host. Danny if you're reading this, next time please provide us with better accommodation facilities because this is next to Humanitarian Mistreatment. I dunno if this form of abuse even exist, but I think it should.

Staring at the Sun by Offspring. Nice. I need a smoke. But if I leave this computer, someone else might take it and use it and I won't be able to finish this crappy post. OK I think that's enough of this post. Gonna go smoke then prolly sleep, if I can. Zzzzzzzzzzzz........

Tobaccos and Tarantulas

Leaves rolled together. Bloody Englishmen. Smells tangy, crisp, natural. Lit. It burns. Smoke coming out from the burnt end. Inhale from the other end. Smoke fills the lungs. Warmth. Like a cup of hot chamomile, it relaxes the senses. It releases the tense muscles. Warmth in the lungs. Calming. 

Smoke fills the air. Putrid. Ashes fill the tray. Nimble to the wind. Exhale. The smoke slightly brown, unlike the gray original. Parts of the lungs leave the body. 

Ember. Glowing in the dark. Paper slowly burning away. The faded emblem at the end. Kill it. Done. Feels good to have had it. Feeling bad to still be hooked on it. Looks back. A half empty pack of 20s. Ugly little premature baby printed on the lid. Else, it's probably the best looking box in the market. An addiction. A habit. Disgusting. Necessary. Light headed. Stupid. Feels good to have had it.

Smoking is by far the most unnecessary and stupid habit anyone can have. Assuming an average Joe smokes one pack a day, that would come up to RM 3650 of spending a year trying to get yourselves killed. Come on, don't tell me you don't tip the lady who sold you your cigarettes. On top of the money paid, Joe would need to pay extra premium on his Insurance, simply because they regard him as a Subconscious Suicidal. And, Joe has to store chewing gum in his breast pocket in case his clients hate the smell. And, Joe would need to go for constant dental care because his teeth would turn yellow and crap-looking. And Joe would buy those expensive and strong colognes to hide the smell. And to all you Green Joes, those filters are NOT biodegradable.

Joe thought of quitting many times before. But what's the point. He get back on it the next day. Even if Joe got sick and couldn't smoke for a month, he'd come back to it the very next day he's better. "Quitting smoking is so easy, I've done it a million times." 

If you wanna quit smoking, here are a few pointers for the battle ahead. Firstly you need to understand smoking is actually 95% Habit and 5% Addiction. Unlike alcoholism, smoking don't get an AA room. 1st month or so, you'll do well combating your body's dependency on cigarettes. You'll get sick for the first week, then gain 5 kgs over the next 3 weeks. Ladies, good riddance. This is where you'll pick up the cigarette again.
The second month onwards, you'll be on a Mind vs Mind war for the next 8 months or so. You'll keep finding excuses to smoke again, and you'll keep finding reasons why you should not. Here are some reasons why you should smoke again:

' We all die in the end.'
' I could get hit by a car and die the next day.'
'It's not that bad, I could ask them to keep me sedated until I die. This way the cancer won't cause so much pain.'
'Smoking is the best social tool in the world!.'
'Many rich people I know are smokers. I should do the same.'
'You stop driving, I'll stop smoking.'
'If it's that harmful, shouldn't the government ban it altogether?'
'If I hold a drink and not smoke, I won't look half as cool.'

You'll soon find a replacement habit for the lack of this. Anything from overdose of Coca-Cola to straw shredding would do. Then you'd die of Diabetes Type Idiot, with no teeth to smile with in your coffin.

Here are some reasons you should keep clean:

'Your nose can smell like never before. It'll all go away if you give in.'
'Your tongue actually works. It'll all go away if you give in.'
'Your 42km in 3 hours will be gone if you give in.'
'Your young and wrinkle-free face will be gone if you give in.'
'If you get hit by a car, tough luck. But that's a chance you're willing to take.'
'You smell good now. Don't take that away.'
'The iPod, camera, Blackberry and Bell and Ross all came from your cigarette money.'
'Hey, Insurance just became more affordable ( only if you don't end up an adrenaline junkie)'
'No more chewing on recycled condoms!'

Tangy. Crisp. Natural. The smoke. Warmth in the lungs. Relaxing. I am slave to a plant. Good. Disgusting. Putrid. Smells like peanut butter. Lung burning peanut butter. Habit. No, addiction. Cannot live without. Comfortable now. Stay here. It's all good. Like chamomile. Kill it. Done. Stupid ugly habit. No, addiction. It's legal, so it shouldn't be that bad. Sleep now.

Degrees of Friendship

People meet people everyday. Sometimes they become more than what they initially were, and sometimes they fade into nothing. 6 Billion in the world. 26 Million in a country. 600 friends you know all your life. 300 of them you see again. 150 are in your Facebook list (assuming you only add people you know). 100 you see all the time, of which 40 are your colleagues, 5 your clients, 10 your activity buddies, 7 your gaming pals, 4 your snooker legs, your cousin's cousin, your brother's ex girlfriend, your ex girlfriends, your sister's boyfriend, and that lady who sells flowers two blocks away from where you stay. 6 left. Your best friends. What makes them so special out of the 6 billion? 

Acquaintances

You see them, they see you. Shake hands, say Hi and Bye. Smile. Smokers have a lot of these friends. They smoke, chat up a storm, and by the time they kill the butt, they've forgotten what that guy looked like. You can't be bothered if you'll never see them again. 

'Get-Away-From-Me's

Met through the oddest of odds, he/she's probably a friend's friend or just someone who's extremely lonely and is in dire need of a friend to talk to.  He has that extremely eerie stare and his jokes are stale and he's suffering from chronic case of halitosis. You hate him. You hate having to laugh at his ridiculous jokes and his stupid punchlines. He embarrasses you whenever around girls, and is the one reason you're still single. You refuse to add him into your Facebook Friends' list. You hope he'd get hit by a 50-wheeler right about now! 

Business Buddies

These people are good at what they do. Enough said. They can be the worst friends you'll ever find in your entire life, but somehow you know they'll make the best business buddies. One calculates every single cent he spends on. The other keeps complaining about the world and how it could and should be better. Another one keep threatening to sue the world. The other one an underachiever who loves to cook up mischievous ways to con everybody. You dread having them around for holidays and birthdays, but you keep them deep in your pockets because you know they'll be of use to you. 

Colleagues

You see them more than you see your dog at home. They make you want to kill them or yourself every single morning, but have to live with it. You hate their incompetence, but somehow feel happy they're around because they make you feel good about yourself. When it's time to clock out, they would suddenly disappear from your mind. If you happen to see them in clubs or pubs, you'll almost never want to go up and say Hi to them because you know the only thing you guys would talk about is the one thing you don't want to talk about. You hate their guts, and you also know the feelings returned are mutual. 

Yum Char Buddies

When work is done, you want to go out for drinks. Teh Tarik or Leffe, they'll always respond to your calls and will always be there. They're good talkers. You would talk about how bad the government is doing, how bad the world is now. How things used to be so good back then. Low crime rates, cheaper beer, cheaper petrol, cheaper everything. And if you'd be the Prime Minister you'd make sure all these remain the same. You share jokes, stale lame-ass jokes that only the 5 of you would laugh to. You go home at night knowing they'll be around again the next time you call for drinks, and say the same old shit all over again.

Activity People

Snooker, gaming, shopping, movies. You love having them around when doing things. And you know they love your company too. You talk about the things you do, jargon after jargon spills. You usually have different groups for different activities, because none of them would do everything you do. They do not cross your mind when you want to share something special with, and you won't call them when you just got robbed. 

Ring of 10

Close friends you found either through yum chars or activities, or just a randomly crossed path that happen to link the both of you. They may not know each other, but you know them. Every single one of them are someone you'll want to get to know. You exchange interesting topics and they almost always go with it and throw something back to you. You can sit for hours talking. These people know you. They see you. But only as much as you want them to see. You still behave yourself in front of them, careful not to be too vulgar or not to dig your nose too enthusiastically. 

Brothers or Sisters

Maybe from school, maybe through some odd random meeting, you met this band of brothers (sisters). They know you too well, sometimes more than you know yourself. You know what they're thinking. That Don't-disturb-me smile. You may be best friends because you're exactly the same, or exactly the opposite. You compliment each other in everything you do. You miss them when you don't meet up after a while. When you go to their home, you feel at home. When you get into trouble, their numbers are on Speed Dial 1,2 and 3. You talk rubbish and they respond you rubbish. You talk serious, and they respond serious.  You can meet them up for dinner every single day, everyone silent on the table eating, smoke, then leave without saying anything at all. You'll go back the next day, simply for the company. They'll tell you in your face if you're being cocky. You can see them having family outings and yum chars with you 50 years from now. They're bad at some things, but you can accept it simply because they're them. When you think of them, a smile draws across your face. You're glad you've met them. You're blessed to have them as your best friends. You'll hold on to them tightly for the rest of your life. 

Many people we meet are random. If I'd gotten into that primary school along Jalan Batu in KL, everything in my life would've been different. I wouldn't have met that guy who use to read game books with me in class. I wouldn't have met the group of people who took me in as a friend and a brother. The guy who'd take the bus home with me everyday, and his band of brothers who drink and drink. The other big band of brothers I found in secondary school. The associations I joined and the things I learned. The college I went to because all my friends were in the other one. The trekking hobby that led me to join the trekking club in college. The friends I made in the trekking club. The climbing trip that was organized by the trekking club. The being approached by a staff asking if we were interested to work there. The working there. The people I met working and climbing there. The people I learned from, asking nothing in return. The people I taught and am still teaching, asking nothing in return. 

But if I'd gotten into that primary school along Jalan Batu in KL, I may have another set of stories to tell.

101 Habits of Highly Effective Third World Countrymen

Ever wondered why whenever you drive into shop lots and shop offices there's almost always problems with double and triple parking? It's because when the developers built the place, they only allocate 2 parking lots per shop/office unit. They thought, at any given time, only one shop employee and one customer will be present in a boutique. Stupid developers cannot count. No they're not stupid they just can't be bothered. We build it as we see fit, including maximizing the amount of units in a given area so we can sell more, and to hell with the public's parking problem.
Then there's the problem with developers actually being nice and building multiple-storey parking. Just because they charge every-so-minimal fees, people would rather clog up lanes outside because they're free. Parking fines are expensive, but that's the chance they're all willing to take.

Faulty traffic lights are so common in KL, the people are already starting to categorize them as Natural Disasters. Natural Disasters are misfortunes that befall a place which is commonly an 'Act of God'. Simply put, people have no control over them. Sure thing.
Traffic lights in Malaysia are stupid. No, they're rubbish! You'd have to go through 8 traffic lights along Old Klang Road to get from Mid Valley to Jalan Templer Flyover, and it's less than 5 KM long. In my entire 10 years of driving, I've never once been able to pass any set of lights without having to stop for the next when it was just turning red. When that one turns green, I'd drive to the next only to find it just turning red. And the next, and the next. And I've lived in Old Klang Road all my life. Google Map says you need only 8 minutes to traverse  the entire Old Klang Road. I would like you to try. No cheating.
As much as I don't like to, I really have to say this. Traffic lights in Singapore are so well configured, as long as you drive within the speed limits you'd be able to pass all Green lights until the end. No, the ones in front of Sogo don't count. And No, you guys don't get to claim ownership of Bak Kut Teh just because I gave a little praise. 

Then there's a problem with people trying to 'Common Sense' out traffic lights' algorithms.
" This lane first, then the next, then mine.
What? That stupid light just skipped my turn!
Screw this, it's broken.
I'm just gonna drive pass!!"

"Tuan, Lampu rosak la. Betul punya cuba Tuan tengok. Kan?

Jangan saman la. Saya memang sudah tunggu dua round, Tuan."

Policemen are suppose to maintain national security, and ambulances drive dying people to hospitals. But each time the police erect road blocks, they're 'hungry'. And when ambulances blare sirens in clogged-up traffics, they're just trying to get pass the jam with that privilege they have. Sure, it happens. But what if they're tracking down a serial killer? Or a Hit-and-run fugitive? And what if there really was a very sick person in that Ambulance you refused to let pass behind you?

Stupid cab drivers are so choosy when it comes to customers' destinations. Too far, don't want. Too near, don't want. Got traffic jam, don't want. Then they cry to the authorities for not increasing their fares and making it hard for them to make a living. Then they start haggling. Then nobody wants to take cabs because of all the haggling. Then they cry some more.

All the education provided by our government and parents, and we still result to thinking with our asses. 

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.