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Mighty Jacksparrow is an Earth-based sub-intergalactic blogger who enjoys writing and in the same time entertaining his ever-amusing will-kill-to-read fans with sensationally hilarious and at times dramatic musings. This blog offers endless ideas and results; they might be charming most of the times but could be offending in some others. Therefore, it is always noble to remind that if you enjoy the pieces, carry on reading, but if they upset you, do quietly leave like the evening breeze and not like exploding diarrhea, which exactly what you will look like if you ever lose it on me. Enjoy! :D

Saturday, July 20, 2013

Mad Lelia is Mad



Had a fight with my lady today.

Come to think of it, the reason was pretty hilarious. It's even embarrassing to speak about it here or anywhere in the universe, at least when I'm still alive. Anyway a crybaby she always is, I made my lady mad and, therefore, hid in an isolated space of her own, refusing any contact with outer world whatsoever. 

Sounded like I'm the bad guy but hey she started it. And if the part where she cried made me look bad, take a listen to this: she even cried once when she saw an old fella cycling along the road we took sometime back. My lady and her paperheart syndrome are inseparable. I won't be surprised at all if she cries whenever she sees me smacking a mosquito flat on my arm anytime soon. 

Anyway, I was mad as well. So I went shopping. Not for bag and shoes. 

I took a stroll to a furniture shop this afternoon and browsed through their vast collection of latest furniture and home accessories. So I bought a bedroom set: a queen-sized bed, a super-thick Dunlopillo Orthorest II (ultra firm, pocket spring type with memory foam) mattress, a 5-feet wardrobe, a makeup vanity table, and two bedside cupboards. The free items that came along with the set are a pair of Masterfoam super-plush synthetic latex pillows and a bolster of the same material. I've gotta tell you that the mattress is super awesome and the pillows are extremely comfortable. 

Also, I took the liberty of constructing a bed lamp from junk materials I found lying around my home. And so my otherwise very dull bedroom now looks like this:




I still need to find the mattress top and the sheet, though. And a curtain. Tomorrow then. Moving on, I also bought myself a set of dinner table for six as shown in the picture below. Gone are the days where I had my dinner in the polymer-table for two, as also shown in the picture below. There's just so much food and so little space. With this new additional item in the house, I'd be more comfortable having my dinner like a boss. 




I bought a Phillips 11-Watt eco-bulb with warm ambient feature and installed it at the living room as an addition to the existing two fluorescent bulbs, just to put some mood in the place. Now I can sit down at the sofa while doing my work on the laptop with a cup of coffee and a box of cigarette while listening to jazz on the radio and feeling great all in the same time. In the picture below is my current living hall setting. It's a big hall so it looks pretty empty. You can see the batik painting I received as a token of appreciation when I attended Twtup Campus last year, and also an unused steering lock, just in case I need to resort to beating anybody up for legit reasons. Alternative to the steering lock is my golf set, but I won't be needing that for the lock itself is pretty murderous. Just in case. 




I think the house is pretty much livable for two. And I'm just preparing the nest for the arrival of the mother bird once we get married. 

I'm doing all these for you, so wipe your tears up and calm your sobbing ass down already. I'm sorry, and I love you. 

I'm enjoying all these tonight Lelia. U mad? #lol



Iron and Ball




Ever since I placed myself in the list of PhD candidates in UTP, subjecting myself to endless amount of mental torture, sleepless nights, fear of supervisor and other forms of psychologically-related disorders, I have nearly abandoned one of my most favorite pastime activities -- golfing. Although mostly my time in golf was spent at the driving range, I've surely missed the kicks of hearing the knock on my iron against the ball at the right spot, however sexually-suggesting this sentence may be. The urge to send the ball flying at the right projectile motion and traveling curvature to the 100-yard island in the middle of the driving range lake of Clearwater Sanctuary golf makes the activity go raging with adrenaline punches. Like a drive to achieve something. Getting some sense of achievement. I'm looking forward to get to the driving range again to practice some swing, now knowing that my dear lady used to play golf. After all, nothing feels more liberating than to imagine the faces of some people in the middle of the floater golf balls before hitting the crap out, sending them flying across the minimum range and into an enormous crater filled with water, the result of tin-mining in the earlier years. Gotta watch my back though. I'm getting old. Seriously.



Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Yours Truly Love.


I had promised myself precisely a year back today, on the first day of Ramadhan, that I will write about a subject that has since grown to be so accustomed to my otherwise very lonely world. 

There were days in the past that I've overlooked into many important facts of life that, as a result, I saw myself ending up becoming a bitter person; someone who possesses the quality of that of a cynic, of an opinionated person, and most importantly, of a disappointed man. Ever since I was let into believing that my last relationship -- the relationship that I hoped would be the last for I no longer have interests in hunting for the perfect lady for there was never one -- ended in quite a catatonic way, I had lost a handful amount of my otherwise unshaken beliefs and faiths that has so unfortunately forced me into seeing my future life from a very different perspective. I thought that I would never fall in love again, for I have been falling in love for quite one too many time, and every time every and each of it met its inevitable end, I was usually the one who suffered the most. 

And at every and each end too I had to pick up of what was left of my weather-beaten, crushed and broken heart with an atom of hope, looking for a brighter new beginning. But as a human as all of you are, I began to see and, most essentially, understand, that a bright beginning does not always promise an even brighter end. Often I went through a satisfyingly enjoyable beginning of a relationship, only to be brought through an ugly end. I didn't want that then, and I still don't want that now. For every lover who enters the gate of fresh relationship, I am pretty sure that you will evidently understand the hopes for the relationship to flourish and grow close to what you have imagined it to be. 

Frustrated, disappointed, angry and, for whatever reasons there were, hugely relieved, I picked myself up and started anew with all the little pieces left of me. As a researcher, my interests in current research have put me in a place where I forgot entirely about the needs to have a partner in life, or in a more precise way, a lover. Work had me entirely lost in my own world of progress, and I soon turned out to produce more research publications in the world of academics. I enjoyed many groups of supportive crowds. My social life bloomed prettily, and I have enjoyed a vast amount of successful and well-known companies. This went well for some time until the good old sense of realities come biting again.

I came to realize that my life, despite all the attentions, money, successes, progresses, and whatsoever achievements that I have scored so far, was so lonely. 

The thoughts of this certain loneliness grabbed my attention quite wholesomely; I began to lose interests in my works and my academic life. I no longer paid attention to new, exciting science discoveries. Lonesomeness killed me internally. Looking back at my previous relationships, yet again, I told myself that, 'My God, dear me, how many times need you fall off a bike to know that it hurts like hell?'.

But it wasn't the fall that made the entire experience worth experiencing. It's the ride. And I'm willing to take it. 

So I prepped myself for another journey in love relationship, only this time I promised myself that I would not repeat my previous mistakes in making decisions, mostly attributed to poor projections, ill-advised calculation, nondescript planning, indefensible practice and most eminently, crappy chemistry. I'd like to make my next relationship a story worth telling to anyone who would listen; a story that, despite its many imperfections in plots, means so many beautiful things. 

This is the story.


* * *

For hundreds of years, enthusiasts worldwide have cultivated over 10,000 cultivars of flowering shrubs of the genus Rhododendron commonly known as Azalea. Highly admired and adored, Azalea stuns its spectators at best, while in the same time being one of the most toxic in the plant kingdom, other than its astounding ability to inhabit and establish in the most acidic soils.

The paragraph above pretty much describes the lady who won every piece and shrapnel of my heart. 


The lady herself.


I met Azalia sometime in June 2012, precisely on the 12th day of the month, during one of the largest engineering conventions the world has ever to offer, in which I had the responsibility to present three papers on my latest findings in my field of research. Our first meeting was very brief; we mostly talked about works and related matters, other than the (not-so) surprising fact that the lady had been spying and gathering intelligence on me all these while, particularly from my tweets and writings. 

Overall, to me, Azalia was just another girl but with a few major exceptions: her proficiency in English was impressive, her confidence was off the roof, she has fine tastes in coffee and general fashion, she made quite an eyebrow-raising progress in her career, and she has technical background in academic. To add more, she's taller than any average Malaysian female and has an athletic-built body. It felt as if I had just struck an infinite goldmine. In a few minutes or so, she won my attention like most girls won't.

Toxic.


A table for two lost souls finding each other.


Our conversation lasted as long as the coffee in our cups, but let's just say that deep inside I had some senses running that I found it positive that I would like to meet her again. And to no surprise I did. 

But at that point I was still bitter, skeptical, cynical, opinionated, more or less a rebel, a critic, and a few more other qualities that made me not quite an enjoyable company to have over delicate dinner or evening cups of coffee. I admit, that I did give her a series of hard times, pushing her to the edge, just to examine her potentials, to which I supposed that had she left, she won't fit into the category of the person worth living together for long years to come, at least in my own definition. To my own astonishment, she never really left despite having to go through a row of overthrown tantrums and sophisticated moments, and instead, she grew closer to me. 

She lives on acids. 

Getting to know each other took some time. Strength celebrated, weaknesses tolerated, suitability examined. We soon found that the base of the relationship was getting steadier and stronger. Our mutual feelings soon find themselves residing between each other, and we settled for a relationship none of us ever dreamed of. Together, we began to conquer some parts of our own bubbles and achieved more than we ever imagined, from SIFE to Genovasi Challenge to The Big Dre1m, we left our marks to be remembered. We progressed and we supported each other. At some points, we even challenged and criticized each other. We grew not only as lovers, but also colleagues -- this, I never dreamed to ever have in my partner.


Us during The Big Dre1m press conference.


Now after a year together, I could have never felt any better.

One of the biggest thing she ever did to me was to plan a surprise party event for my birthday, attended by close friends and acquaintances. That was the biggest birthday event I ever had in my life, and perhaps the sweetest to remember. She even prepared a cake with my Twitter printed on it. I've got an electric coffee by-the-drip maker as a gift from her, along with a bag of Italian roast blend coffee -- something that both of us enjoy alone and together. 


Best birthday ever so far.


A trained geologist who works as a management consultant (now one level up to junior project manager), my Azalia still awes me with geology trivia every now and then. Being an avid reader herself, not only on the subject of love, romance and other perks that have so far becoming the genre well-versed with female readers, she equips herself with many technical and non-technical information that makes her not only informative but entirely knowledgeable with general and detailed subjects. Now this is a good thing for me, since I do not need to keep my depth and range of conversation to only handbags, shoes and common female problems and rants. 

On one occasion, she gave me a chunk of coal as a present. How cool is that?


Accessing the information highway through a non-conventional approach. 


The acceptance of us in both families have so far been excitingly positive. A natural domestic networking person she is and a negotiator/diplomat I am, we broke through the walls of family reviews pretty quickly and effectively to soon be accepted as one of them. Her family has been very generous with hospitality and warm affections, as do mine. For the first time, the lady I date receives no objections and criticisms from my side of the family, particularly my dear mother, who preys on little girls on the subject of fashion, general cosmetics, applied culinary and overall feminine qualities. One thing that strengthened her position is that she comes from a FELDA village somewhere in the Northern Peninsular, to which, as most of my family members believe, her prospects as a wife-material with traditional Malay female traits shine so very brightly. 


Happy faces. A night in town with her siblings.


My aunties love her to the bits, so do my cousins and, well, my best friend, Fiza Falak. They grew to become best friends themselves, to which I do not know how, whom constantly team up whenever I propose a counter-proposal to any of their opinions -- precisely the reason why I choose not to cause any stir whatsoever when both of them are around me: a lesson I learned through such hardship and painful stream of daunting events. Close friends of my mother approve her almost instantly, and my best friends told me to cage her up so that she won't escape, a move I found to be the most effective in keeping her in captivity, and as well as having my ass kicked to behind bars any time later. 


Them girls. (Read out loud and pay attention to pronunciation. I kid, don't bite me.)


Another impressive trait she has is that she constantly works out, most of the time heavily. She goes to gym and does yoga, mostly due to her earlier participation in sports (she represented her state in SUKMA as a female hockey player whereas I only made it as school player in the same sport). She has lost over 10 kg in only a few weeks, to which my phrase 'impressive' that was earlier used at the beginning of the paragraph starts to show as a total understatement. She also plays golf, has undergone strict bootcamp exercise regime, entered a few marathons, won the office badminton championship, obtaining one of the sauciest curvatures I ever intended to enjoy apart from the mathematics tensor curvature, and has aced in other related events that to a point it becomes really ridiculous to even explain. 


One of the thing she does that makes me look and feel like a helpless potato.


A recent photograph. Her rapid loss of fat content forces me to replicate a famine condition
for myself to keep mine at an allowable bare minimum. Didn't work, by the way.


Albeit her earlier uneasiness towards feline variety including domestic cats, she has now began to love them, particularly Sir Montgomery 'Monty' Scott, my feline partner at home. That is the most important criteria in my wife-material list. She has even the liberty to address the darn cat 'my baby', to which I expressed my objection, to which she objects in return, and continues to call the darn cat, 'my baby'.


Feeding 'the baby'.


Overall, I am very happy in this relationship. She's all I ever needed, and still. She possesses almost all of the qualities I have listed down in the race to find the perfect match. Her general intelligence, boosted confidence, positiveness, professionalism, social skills, kitchen skills, chore skills, religious practice, soft spots, written and spoken English proficiency including literature skills, healthy lifestyle, successful career, and all other prime qualities have scored her an outstanding position,  close to a damn perfection, therefore conclusively demonstrates that she is so far the best I've ever found to love, and what makes her even more special, she loves me back. 

Now that's precisely a girl I'd like to keep for life.


A moment worth remembering.


With hopes, I look forward to bring this relationship to a more established position soon. Insya Allah, we'll progress even more, and we'll achieve even, even more. Do kindly pray for our future journey together, thanks very much.


* * *


And without me realizing, slowly, my badly broken heart is healing. 

Alhamdulillah. 



Thursday, March 21, 2013

The Big Dre1m: The Final Move



Hi everyone,

So here we are, my team and I, towards the final presentation for The Big Dre1m competition this coming 30th of March, 7.00-8.00pm, TV3 before a live audience and a panel of professional judges. 

Our projects can be found at the site, as well as at our page, The Papercup Challenge

We will be on air on 22nd of March 2013 at 7.30pm on TV3 as well. Find out more about us on the third episode. 

And don't forget to vote for us by sending BD <space> AZALIA to 33999 today to give your audience vote for us to win the competition and making our dream project a reality. 

Find more info and promo posters below:


* * *


Project Presentation Slides





 







* * *

Promo Posters













Monday, February 25, 2013

The Big Dre1m



Hello everyone,

Remember The Papercup Challenge? I submitted the idea for the Genovasi Challenge but my team and I was only able to win the honorable mention, in which we won RM 5,000.00.

Now here comes The Big Dre1m by TV3 and IM4U initiative. The Big Dre1m concentrates on more challenging issues in Malaysia, be it on social, economy, technology and other aspects. We submitted our proposal to the competition and we were with hopes to be selected as one of the finalists.

We made it through the first round and became among the top 15 of the finalists who needed to undergo the 2nd round where out of 15, only 6 was chosen. So my team (Azalia and Yushasnor, both geologists by education) and I went to Sri Pentas, Bandar Utama for the project pitching and judging session. The judges were Datuk Jake Abdullah (best known as Jakeman), Moots Pop Shuvit, Altimet, Noh Salleh and Michael Teo. The hosts were Naz and Sazzy Falak.

Here are some pictures from the event:

















Good news. We were chosen as the best 6 contestants and we will be presenting before the Prime Minister of Malaysia on the 22nd of March 2013. Catch us on TV3 this 8th March at 7.30pm on the first episode of The Big Dre1m! 


Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Monty



This is the last picture of Montgomery Scott, best known as Monty, a lone cat that came to my house on my graduation night October last year that I adopted as a pet and took care of his food and health, and even provided his own sofa. This picture was taken three days back when he came home.

Last three days he came back with a bleeding hand, limping at my front gate before knocking on the glass sliding door slowly with his paw asking for me to open up and give him some food, in which I did. He looked sick, tired and weak. After his meal, he limped to his sofa and slept for 12 hours, from 6.00pm to 6.00am the following day, in which I stayed awake attending his injury, patting his head and brushing his fur with my fingers to warm him up during the whole cold, rainy night long.

When he woke up, he just stared at me and slowly meowing, extending his good paw as if asking for a handshake. I held his paw gently and rub his head. He then slowly walked to the front door where his kibble bowl was placed, where I then poured some fresh kibble for him. He ate very less as I sat next to him, accompanying. After that he came to me and brushed his head against my legs to be pat, and then he slowly left, limping, towards the gate, turned around to stare at me again, as if bidding his last goodbye, before disappearing in the dark, cloudy morning.

That was the last time I saw him. He never came back.

Cats, just like most animals, know when they're going to die. It had happened to me many times where my previous cats spent the night or some long hours together with me the day before they died. I guess that's their way of thanking their owner and saying their last goodbyes. And when Monty did the same thing that cold night, something burst in my heart.



I miss you Monty.


* * *


Pictures of Monty taken just last week when he was all fat and healthy.


Resting on his sofa.



He just won't care when he's asleep.


With all the funny sleeping postures.


Sleeping again. That's all what he did.


But at least I had a loyal company when I had to stay up late at night doing works.


Taken during our first days together.



I really am gonna miss you, Monty. You rest in peace, aite? I'll see you on the other side.  


p/s: I still hope that you'll come back, knocking on my window with your paw every morning, and popping up again at the front door, although deep inside me I know you never will, anymore.


Saturday, February 02, 2013

On Failures


My already disturbed mind has been continuously disturbed for a few days earlier. It got worst at nights. I have been losing sleeps for quite some time now that the I have started to experience the effects quite instantly. This could be an early sign of a coming depression -- the tips of an iceberg, the few flakes of snow before a deadly avalanche. 

Life is sometimes puzzling. Most of the time, come to think of it. 

There were days when I easily succeeded in everything I did. 

There were times when I failed miserably.

Now, when inspected carefully, I tended to fail at the little things. In making up to this, I had myself successful in great things, just so that I could feel somewhat better for at least a stretch of moments. This was, however incorrect I was, my logic. It felt better when I thought of just how I failed at making sandwiches but I succeed in extracting valuable gases from almost valueless biomass materials. 

But I never thought the otherwise.

What if, just what if, one day I tend to be only successful at little things, and fail in a many great things?




Even thinking of it drove me substantially mad. 

Ever in the grim cloud of failures there is responsibility to take. Just like one is responsible for his winnings, one must be responsible for his failures. 

Sometimes it is great to be a perfectionist. Sometimes it is just way too upsetting. But this is the factory setting that came with me since 28 years ago, and as days went by, it was perfected with time and experience. I like being a perfectionist. But it comes with a price -- I cannot accept failures. 

Some have told me (sometimes by means of violent verbs and forces) that failures are a part of life.  We fall down while walking just so that we could improve our steps. We get cuts just so that we pay more attention to our surroundings. And many other similar comparisons. And most of them, almost all of them, leave scars to remember. And it is these scars I try best to minimize, or at any time possible, avoid at all costs. 

What's the point of being a war hero if you have taken a bullet in between your whitened eyes?

Each time I failed, what I did was to inspect the failure particularly to answer the question of 'what went wrong?'. It is not an easy task. It is not an enjoyable assignment. I had to take a great look into something that I had already despised much -- failure -- and finding the cause of it: the fail factor. It's like one who inspects carefully the wreckage of a motor vehicle that killed his mother. The devastating emotions. 




And it was said that, 'the rewards for those who persevere far exceed the pain that precedes the victory'. 

But I didn't make for it. 

To sculpt a winning, a pre-meditation follows. All characteristics identified and maintained at desired conditions. Every possibilities taken into account. All Plan B's ready. Anti-fail mechanisms negotiated for. Cardinal evaluation. Maximum firepower. Military accuracy. Zero tolerance of error. All these to ensure a maximum possibility of winning; increasing the odds to top. I don't play for fun. I play to win. 




But there are always those unexplained times when you've done your best, but still fail.




And that is the most frustrating thing of all. You'd be thinking and analyzing -- what went wrong? And after some time you'd be over-thinking and over-analyzing. The frustration takes a huge toll. It costs you your happiness, your solace, and most importantly, your motivations. After all the efforts and it ends like this. 

When we fail, in order to ease our broken hearts we'd say that well we're just shit out of luck. But is it really? Luck? With all the calculated moves and and statistical approach, we fail because we're just shit out of luck? Well there must be mathematical expressions behind the losing, no? What was the factor of losing? What really did go wrong?

And then you'd question about the promise of rewards and fairness to those who try their best. And you'd find that the only person to blame cannot be the big guy up above but yourself. And then you'd realize that the more you try to reason, the more unreasonable you'd become.

And then you'd go crack about it for days and nights.




But let's look at the bright side of it -- if I fail at bigger things, I'd be sure as hell free from dwelling on the fact that I failed to make sandwiches. 

"Come on Jack, the grass is always greener on the other side of the river."

So is the grass on top of a pile of dung. What's your point?