Saturday, January 30, 2010

Kau Ku Cari
(c) j a c k s p a r r o w . a r t

* * *

I have a problem that I cannot explain,
I have no reason why it should have been so plain,
Have no questions but I sure have excuse,
I lack the reason why I should be so confused,
Left a message but it ain't a bit of use,
I have some pictures, the wild might be the deuce,
Today you saw, you saw me, you explained,
Playing the show and running down the plane,

I know, how I feel when I'm around you,
I, don't know, how I feel when I'm around you,
I, I know, how I feel when I'm around you,
I don't know, how I feel when I'm around you,
Around you, around you, around you, around you,

Around you

*speechless :Q


SEREMBAN - Seorang lelaki mengaku tidak bersalah di Mahkamah Sesyen di sini semalam atas tuduhan menghina Almarhum Sultan Iskandar Ibni Almarhum Sultan Ismail di dalam blog

Tertuduh, Khairulizam Abdul Ghani, 29, yang bekerja sebagai juruteknik membuat pengakuan tidak bersalah itu selepas pertuduhan dibacakan di hadapan Hakim Zambri Bakar.

Mengikut fakta kes, tertuduh melakukan kesalahan itu dengan memuat naik ayat-ayat yang mempunyai elemen-elemen menghina Almarhum Sultan Johor menggunakan laman blog itu.

Kesalahan itu didakwa dilakukan di antara pukul 7.25 malam hingga 9.05 malam di No. 297 Rumah Rakyat Panchor di sini pada 22 Januari lalu.

* * *

Kata aku:

"Dah kena tangkap buat cara kena tangkap la. Pi tutup-tutup muka buat apa?"


Aku cuma mau kau tau yang;
aku suka cara kau buat aku rasa special, dan..
...terima kasih sebab buat aku rasa special.

Aku sayang kau, walau aku tau kau takkan pernah possible untuk sayang aku balik... least for now.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

The Gentlemen Code of Ethics on the Chapter of Surveillance (Part 3: Tactical) - Remember: when checking on women, Three-Seconds Rule applies immediately.

The Three-Seconds Rule states that:

1. One can check on women with direct eye contact for only 3 seconds or lesser.
2. Next attempt to check again on the same subject has to be after an interval of at least 30 seconds or more.
3. One should not stare.
4. One should not make uncommon facial expressions and body gestures while executing Three-Seconds Rule.
5. Allowed area of survey for Three-Seconds Rule is anywhere above the neck only for first attempt, while the second attempt and so on, though not specifically mentioned, are strongly advised to be executed only to the first area being surveyed (above the neck) to gain extra detail information, among every other areas of interest like apparels et cetera.
6. Only 2 more attempts are allowed after the first attempt to ensure full anonymity.
7. Do not get caught red-handed.
8. The rule forbids the act of perversion at all costs.


1. If possible, do not move the head towards the subject when surveying. Only use eye movements only.
2. If the subject is at any point which is out of boundary of vision range, do apply additional gestures that require the body to move slightly to allow the extension of vision range, e.g.: looking at the shoulder while trying to rub off imaginary fallen hair, trying to fix the butt position on the chair, trying to retrieve 'accidentally' fallen object of possession on the floor et cetera.
3. Desperate measures only apply when the target is totally out of possible retrievable range. This measure requires one to go mobile to establish a new view-point for either permanent (change of table at the restaurant because the table is bad due to some make-believe reasons) or temporary (quick survey during a trip to the gent's).
4. When signalling to a bro, use encrypted messaging system, e.g.: 'possible, scale 7.9, three o'clock'. Three-Seconds Rule applies on any attempt of surveillance made after this ally intelligence support is successfully received and understood. If unsure, use the order of repeat.
5. If conversation is impossible, use eye movements to locate the subject.

Definitive Countermeasures - The Dos and Don'ts when caught surveying:

1. DO NOT panic. Be calm and gentle, quickly initiate a ten-degree upper lip lift from horizontal respectful smile that does not lift both cheeks deliberately and then nod once before breaking eye contact. DO NOT wait for response.
2. If confronted by the subject, stay calm and make good remarks on anything above the neck ONLY, preferably accessories that happen to catch the attention earlier hence the needs to survey. It is not advisable to comment on her body parts whatsoever.
3. Leave the 'I think we have met before' crap aside. Try to be creative: use 'Pardon me really but I notice that the necklace you are wearing is very good looking. By Tiffany, I suppose?' instead of 'Nice necklace'.
4. Watch your words. It is a very thin line between receiving the subject's gratitude and the subject's non-heavenly slap.

Why Three-Seconds Rule?

1. To gain as many initial knowledge on the subject in order to clarify the state of clearance - no boyfriend, fierce dad and husband along with in order to avoid physical confrontation that most of the time will end up either with battlefront attack formation or fully defensive retreat, never really a diplomatic end.
2. To respect the ladies - Three-Seconds Rule suggests that the three seconds interval is long enough to gain point initial knowledge on the subject but short enough for the subject to notice.
3. To benchmark the subject in the scale of overall attractiveness from 0 to 10 in order to arrange the decision-making on 'Go' or 'No Go'
4. To initiate sound king strategy on whatever intentions the observer has in mind. Note: the strategy only works with mostly good intentions.

Example of usage:

1. Subject location is noticed, acquired and locked on. Remember head position.
2. Take a look at the subject. Start counting.
3. Take note of these details:
  • Any boyfriend/dad/husband/bodyguard/paid mercenaries et cetera (if yes, stop procedure, evacuate; if no, go on)
  • Hair/head scarf
  • Facial appearance: skin tone, possible ethnicity match
  • Above-the-neck accessories: necklace, earrings et cetera
  • Apparels: shoes, bags, fashion bracelet et cetera
  • Overall appearance: height, fat content, possible weight
4. Stop. Get back to initial head position. This part is time-critical.
5. Wait until interval time is satisfied before re-establishing surveillance.

Good luck, and Godspeed.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

It has been raining for three weeks.

Tonight the rain fell like never before. Though not as heavy as back in the days, this time around it was rather light but heavy enough to influence his mind with specifically melancholic feelings that had started to fill in the gaps in his leaking heart. The leakage in which had drained all hopes and ambitions in his heart just enough for this loneliness to finally flow away, but really didn't.

It has been three months he had been this lonely.

In his hand was a corsage of three white roses, the finest of its kind, from which he ordered a week earlier from today. Carefully wrapped in the best-looking red Korean silk, he held it firmly in his grip while trying to cover it beneath his jackets, hidden from those little drops of rain water though his head was openly exposed to them. But he did not care, no, he just did not care at all. What mattered was the roses have to be safe at all cost.

The road was empty though it was only half an hour to midnight. The yellow street lights were cloaked behind thick layers of mist that was formed from the rain. And there he sat in between two of the brightest street light poles that he could find on an evidently water-soaked bench in the hope to make himself clearly visible to the vision of that one particular person from which he had been waiting for hours long now.

He wondered where she was, and as instantly he recalled the conversation that took place on the same bench some time in the past.

"One year from now," she said, "one year from now, no matter what happens, we will meet again at this bench."

No matter what happens.

But it happened. He sighed. A year back he was on one of his knees, kneeling before her with her right hand in his while he put on the bracelet, from which he took three hours finding it at the mall and spent almost all of his savings on it, on her fair-skinned wrist to commemorate the day they finally announced themselves both to be in a relationship. And how proud he was when she accepted him after all these times.

Days went fine after that. Really they did, but not for long. Things started to break down here and there, and slowly they developed to his only nightmare, now a reality - she left him.

She did.

But very little that he did lose hope on her. That was one thing with him - a god damn hopeless romantic he was, the one who bought everything that she said to him during the happy times. He trusted all her words, including the one when she said that it will always be him and only him that she will forever love. And he lived in this make-believe for three months long. But it will last no more.

Tonight he realized that what she said was all bullshit.

This is the way you left me, I'm not pretending. No hope, no love, no glory, no happy ending.

* * *

Rainy night again.

She put on the jacket hood to cover her bare hair, some of it peeked out from the hidden space quite naturally, conveying tiny drops of water along them. She hugged herself to warm her body up from the cold, wet surrounding. She continued walking into the puddles of water, none of which she minded to think about at that particular time.

She just felt rather uneasy from staying in the room, so she decided to take a walk instead, despite the heavy rain that occurred earlier.

She walked on the wet pavement. In her mind was none other than the one she called her significant other. The guy he met sometime ago whom she saw as the perfect match for her. The relationship had been going fine so far, and she was very happy about it. Unlike when she was with that jerk she left not a very long time ago over some misunderstandings and arguments, among other things.

'Oh, today is the anniversary', she told herself. 'With the jerk.'

And then she wondered about the jerk. But very little that she care about him. He was just another passer-by, she kept telling herself that. After all, she had all the things she always wanted in her life so far, and with the new guy with her now, everything seemed to be so complete. Never again she would have to take another look around at things she left behind.

Guys, they are just everywhere these days.

She set her paces at a faster rate. She did not see an edge of one pavement brick that came out from its position, and she tripped on it right away, and right away too she fell on her hands. Her wrist was scratched by the unholy pavement surface, and it bled a bit. She sat down while holding her wrist with her other hand. Lucky that she didn't wear her wrist watch whatsoever, or otherwise it might be broken by the impact from the fall.

And suddenly she remembered something.

* * *

He stood up.

He stood up and threw the corsage onto the tarmac road. He stepped on it once. He stepped on it twice. Third times now, fourth, fifth. And the energy he supplied to each step increased intensively from one to another. He let out his anger, his disappointment, his sadness, his all negative feelings. By the time he finished, the corsage was then just pieces of crushed plants and torn cloth. He stared at them for some time. And he went for another step. And another. Another one. Step, step step.


He fixed his jacket and then he started walking away. Into the darkest of an empty, rainy night with his hands at the back of his head and his heart bleeding from one hundred thousand wounds.

* * *

When she arrived at the place, all was left were pieces of red cloth and what appeared to be roses, white roses to be specific, only in hundreds of little pieces too.

She bent over and put her hands against her knees while catching some air. She ran all the way from where she was earlier to that one road with a bench by it, with the bench located in between two of the brightest street lights that could be found along the road. She lifted her head to look at the bench. No one was there.

Slowly she walked to the bench and sat down slowly. She felt water wetting on her pants, but what else would she care about now?

Very little she realized that warm tears started to form at the bottom of her eyes, forming a tiny pond that soon began to overflow, and two similarly looking river of tears flowed down slowly on her cheeks. She held her bleeding wrist tightly for the pain was starting to beat rather disturbingly, but from the look of it, it was her heart that caused her to cry herself out.

It's too late. This is the way that we love, like it's forever. Then live the rest of our life, but not together.

She calmed herself down. Realizing that there was nothing else she could do over there, she then put her right hand at the edge of the old, wooden bench to help herself up. That was when she saw something on the clay floor, somewhat hidden in the shadow of the bench itself.

* * *

God damn it.

Just when he thought life wouldn't get any worst than it had, it suddenly did.

He walked half a mile to his car only to notice that his car key was not with him. Not in his jacket, the pockets of his jeans, let alone in his hands. Must have been left somehow at the bench, he said to himself. So he walked for another half a mile to the place he was before to find it, before to walk back again another half a mile to his car. He walked being very pissed.

When he reached at the bench, he started to look of his keys on and around the bench. He looked under the bench, around what was left from his corsage of roses earlier, and too along the road where he went to before as far he could remember. He repeated this a few times over and over and over. His desperation climbed fast implicitly.

But he couldn't find it.

Finally he gave up. He went to the bench and sat down on it straightly. He looked into the night in front of him, and he felt some sense of emptiness. He felt the loss of a company. He felt the end of hopes, of dreams, of love. Slowly sadness seeped in, blanketing him with cold, blank feelings. One after another brick of ego fell to the floor, crushing the great wall that once made him stood high above everything else. He suddenly felt so cold, so so cold.

How he wished someone could hug him at that time.

And suddenly it happened.

Two hands came appearing from the back of him, carefully hugging his belly from back to front and around tightly, and he felt a warm body came close to him, and then against him. He smelled that perfume that he missed so much, the body that he long so much, the hope he already did abandon.

"Sayang," she said. "You forgot your keys again."

And slowly he smiled.


If only I have what it takes to let you know about this with me standing before you in real life, physically.

If only.

Nevertheless I hope this will somehow reach your doorstep someday somewhat. Let's hope that it will.

So here goes.

* * *


If only I have the power to take you around with me flying over the open skies to see the world down below just to make you smile again. Just the two of us, going through white cotton-candy clouds, above the stormy weather at the bottom just so that the sun will always shines on you from rise to set, and the stars and the moon to blanket your lonely, cold nights with blinking happiness and the sort. We will fly pass rainbows and open wide oceans and high, icy mountains, the meadows and the plains, the arctics and the deserts. Just the two of us.


If only I have the power that enables me to protect you from harmful beings, blanketing you through difficult situations and ensuring your survival at all conditions even though my life will be the cost. If only I could silent all the thundering storms that are coming your way and stand in front of you to halt the incoming typhoon from taking you away. If only I could battle all the rampaging monsters that each time cause you endless heartbreaks - I shall sink my bare hands through their chests and pull out their hearts alive in front of their eyes just to let them know how cold sober I am with my sworn an oath to stand by and protect you from these creatures.


If only I could summon unicorns and fluffy jackrabbits in magnificent imperial gardens in order to fill your empty days with some bits of laughter and such, just in case when I am not available to be with you, when I am away to fight off the rampaging monsters earlier mentioned so that you won't be lonely at all while waiting for me to arrive at your door just right when the day ends. I will ensure that you will have the most expensive foods and drinks and desserts to be served upon you before being asked, prepare you a cushy bed with cotton, dove-feathers and water layers in it in a room at the top of the castle where cold breeze slowly blows to your comfort, with the bath and the restroom fully supplied with the freshes mountain spring of its kind, and roses and gardenias and tulips and ivories and dahlias surrounding your whereabouts, just so that you will feel extremely convenient and cozy in order to stay for just a little bit longer with me.


If only I know the ways to preserve your smiles that color my cloudy days as instantly like water does to a ply of tissue paper. If only I know how the exact way to and that I could make you smile and laugh and look as cheerful as I was every time I saw you in that mood.

If only I could.

But you,

I am no Superman, nor I ever own any flying jet plane to fly you around. All I could do is to make you sit next to me while I fly my simulator plane while you chuckle every time I panic when the plane goes out of control. The closest I could get to to a jet plane is for us to lie on the grass in the open field while watching planes taking off and landing next to KLIA active runway during sunrise and sunset, and the closest we could get to see stars and moon is when we lie on the beach at night next to next without even a word being spoken. And the rest of the places that I wish I could bring you to could only be seen in the form of photographs from those who have been lucky enough to be there.

But you,

I am no superhero. At times, I could be helpless and more or less useless to your problems for I do not have a total control over life. But I could always listen to your problems and sit next to you even though all I could do is to nod each time you end a sentence. Maybe too I will pat your back and hug you from your spearing disappointments and dry your tears using the shirt I am wearing at the time. And maybe I could put a hand on your head and let it lies on my shoulder each time you go speechless over life. I will always be there for you.

But you,

There is no way now that I could come out with a home for myself, let alone a castle full of dreamy things for the both of us. But I promise I will try my best to get those things as closely as it is, just to show that I am capable of doing so, other than to ensure a shelter is there for any of us should one day we pass some hard times where all we want to do is to stay away from the world for just a moment or two. I could have never come out with a small garden of petunias, let alone an imperial one full with blooming blossoms for you, but I could always buy you a rose or two just so that you can hold them and be proud of me. I could have never too to come out with caviar and lobsters whatsoever, but I could always drive you to places to eat each time you are hungry.

And you,

I promise that I will work hard to make sure that my life will be full of prospects and promises, and that I will one day be able to secure our safety for years to come with enough comfort to enable the both of us to sleep at night without worries at all. I will work hard to ensure that there will be foods on the table and enough cash to pay the bills and the shoes and the dresses you would like to possess.

But you,

You could have never see me from this distance, let alone notice my appearance from where you stand, for that there are better men from which I believe have reached an extensive level even I could have never been able to reach at this given amount of time.

You could have never consider me as your man, though at times you did show me that I worth something in your life.

Tonight I forget the way how to sleep, for I was awaken by your miseries and how useless I am to provide you with what you need. How helpless I am to solve your problems, let alone make you feel better from the hard days you have been going through. How sad I was when I listened to your stories whatsoever, and how sad I was to know that I am nothing worths a help to you but just to listen to you and in the same time I died a little inside to know that that man did not only appreciate you but he hurt you so bad that you became like that.

How I wish I could let you know how angry I was and still am that my fists shake vigorously, my veins pop out from my forehead and my eyes go red from this burning anger in my head. How I feel that my ears are flaming and my chest is firing up fast and my teeth are grinding from thinking over what he did to you.

But then, would it be me you were thinking about tonight?

Oh you.

Monday, January 25, 2010

A little sneak peak here.

Not the total review of the person as a whole and his blog as well of course but over his somewhat pretty uncivilized way in addressing an issue over a person's death.

This dead person happened to be the late Almarhum Sultan Iskandar Ibni Almarhum Sultan Ismail, the former sultanate ruler of Johore.

What Aduka did was, he blamed the ruling party over the prolonged royal ceremonies that took place during when the body of the late sultan was placed in the middle of the castle while the ceremonies were ongoing in his blog. He started his blog post with:

"Dah mampos buat cara mampos la."

Seriously enough, I do not know how to even translate the above sentence which was written in Malay. It was too harsh to even begin with.

Aduka Taruna happens to be someone who writes for a supposed-to-be ideological political party from which I do not have even the slightest need to mention the name. Imagine, this came from that particular someone from the party that has been here since the dawn of the history of the nation itself. And he, I believe by my own assumption from his name and race for I absolutely do not have even the slightest idea of his practice in religion, is a Muslim.

And this is how he behaves?

I understand that probably Aduka did not agree with the way the ceremonies took place whatsoever, but does that justify his act by coming out with such monkey-state post? There are other and better, civilized ways to express disagreement of course, but why must he came up with the harshest way one could ever imagined? Do not ever tell me that that man could have possibly accidentally made that mistake by coming up with such sentences - he is a Muslim for God's sake! Even a man who does not have a religion could not possibly have what it takes to say such monkey thing!

Not even a monkey itself!

But he did. Even I, who is quite a cold-hearted man, could have not come out with such insult. But he did. Though Almarhum was not the ruler of the state I live in, I still feel that Aduka needs to be entirely punished over his completely unacceptable action. Worst, I feel disgusted over the claim that the political party he represents too represents the religion I solemnly believe in.

Just imagine this, Aduka: what if each time your family member faces their sealed fate, and people say that to your face? Well quite honestly I do not mind to say that to your face. In fact, it would definitely be a pleasure for me to proceed with it with a grin on my face while you weep over the death of your loved ones. Not that I want to place myself down to your level but just for the sake of, well, letting you know how it bloody feels.

Because until you get what you give, you will never really learn. But of course, I wouldn't do it, because I know how it feels. Sadly enough, you didn't.

Which was, too bad.

Apathetic bloody disgusting idiot, I've no sympathy at all.

* * *

My deepest condolences to the royal family of the sultanate of Johore and the people in its ruling region for the loss of the former Sultan.

May he rests in peace, and Al-Fatihah.

Saturday, January 23, 2010

There were days when I usually found myself stuck with my fingers firmly resting on the keyboard with my eyes staring blindly at the monitor with the blogger writing pad showing, having not even the slightest thing in mind to write about.

Today is one of those days.

So I tweeted and asked my fellow twiends for ideas. And Altimet came up with quite a brilliant idea:

Coco mengada at the bottom :b

Strange. I have written many about my past relationships but not my first crush. Not that I have totally forgotten about the lady but it seems that it never crosses my mind at all all these while. Well, it worths it to reminisce a bit about it, I think.

So here goes.

* * *

January '90.

The first day of school.

A lot of students in the class by that hour, aside from worried-sick but overwhelmingly proud parents who came to see their kids performing in the kindergarten for the first time. Some of the kids were crying though their moms and dads were just a wall-with-open-windows away from them, including one who sat on my left. I still remember how he cried so much that literally his desk was covered with nothing else but a bucket-worth of tears and saliva and sinus discharge.

I didn't cry at all that day.

Not that I was being a macho guy whatsoever. Come on, I was only six that time. Well probably it was because of my dad and mom who were then watching me from quite a distance away. The only person who can make me cry during when I was a kid was dad, usually from certain degree of whacking I got from being too carelessly active, and when I did he usually will tell me to quit it or I will get more. And usually enough, I'll shut the hell up and behave right away.

So the logic here is, I did not cry because if I did, I certainly will get some whacking. Pretty impressive for a seven-year old child, huh? Let's move on.

Apart from the completely hysterically mixed environments we had in the class that day, I happened to notice this one particular girl who sat somewhere in the middle of the class, facing me. She had the look of an Arabic; with her rather pointy nose, bird-lips, fair skin and shoulder-length wavy, brownish hair, she looked like a total nuclear weapon to me. Looking at her amidst the completely havoc situation with crying kids, crying moms, the teacher losing her head among other things, she looked absolutely appealing to me. The time seemed to slow down a little.

I wondered about her name.

And then I knew her name.

"Hello everyone," she greeted the class in such tremendously heartwarming voice ever heard by a six-year old child, "My name is Alia."

Then she smiled at me.

* * *

Ever since that day I had always wanted to go and speak to her but very least I had the guts to. Almost every day of school I went with two candies in my pocket with the hope that I could give her one and the other for myself (back in the days, giving out candy to a girl was like the real bold shit ever). But in the end of the day the candies either ended up in my mouth or my friends' but hers.

That could possibly be the first time ever shyness towards girls occurred to me.

During learning period in class I always did show off myself so much just to impress her. I could count to hundred while others could only do ten. I could spell in three syllabus while others could only spell out alphabets. During playtime I did show off too. I could do a complete trip on the slide, from climbing the ladder to the top of the slide and then slide off to the ground and back to the ladder again in just six seconds or less. I could do swing at 135 degree angle too.

And strangely enough, Alia did exchange smiles with me every time I smiled at her, and I blused so much that I swear if there was Pink Panther there, he could have slapped me from being more pinkish than he is.

There was one day when we were playing with colorful plasticine clay at school (it was a rainy day so we had to play inside during playtime) and I made a head carving of Alia using the provided clay. While doing this, my eyes were on Alia who was then trying hard to make some sort of four-legged creature I believed to be a cat but somehow looked like an overfed Llama. Slowly the face was made and refined over and over, layer by layer. I was so focused in it that when a friend, who happened to be the first class brat in the whole kindergarten, came to me and asked what was I doing, I simply told him - which was the wrong thing to do.

"Hahahahahahahahaha..!!" he laughed at me. "Look everyone, he's making Alia!" he continued to say and to laugh while pointing his finger at the rough tentative carving of Alia I held dearly in my hand like some Greek masterpiece ever made worthy enough to make it into the century's hall of fame for arts and cultures.

"That is not Alia," he furthermore said. "That's a cow!"

I saw Alia had her eyes on me, aside from every other eye. The fat brat was still laughing hysterically next to me. I suddenly felt something burning around my ears.


"What was that?" the teacher stood up from her chair to take a look. Next she said was,

"Oh my God!"

* * *

I still could not fully explain how the carving traveled from my hand and onto the brat's face in a little less than two seconds or so, flat.

There he lied flat on the floor rolling around screaming for help as I stood by looking at him with my fists clenched and my fierce face clearly showing. For the first time in my life I felt so angry and in the same time so brave and satisfied with what I did. I did not speak even a single word at all, even when the teacher pulled me out from the class to the headmistress' office. From afar I saw Alia cried.

That act of course was heroic, in the mind of mine that time - to stand up to a girl you deeply in love with, protecting her from every danger whatsoever that could harm her in any way. No one call my lady a cow. 'Come what may, I shall protect thee from everything, even when it costs my own life ' kind of thing. Very, very heroic.

But this heroic act did not earn me at all any medal but a series of sincere whacking I received with no questions asked from my dad. But that was not the only bad thing that happened. At least not the worst. What worst was that...

...Alia did not return my smile anymore after that incident.

* * *

I graduated with flying colors.

And one disciplinary case.

And I still did not know why Alia cried.

That was like what, 19 years back? I never saw Alia again after kindergarten year ended. She must be so pretty by now, I guess. I tried finding her in Facebook but I only ended up with more than 35,000 raw results that has to be refined. I don't know her full name of course, hence the broad-spectrum search. I gave up the refining job at the 500th person.

I wonder where she is.

Well wherever you are, Alia, I wish that you live your life happily. I hope that you have found what you really wanted in life, and that you keep on smiling like you did almost twenty years ago.

Because you will never know who's day you'll brighten with it.

I just realized that the last post I made was the four hundred and forty-fourth post ever being published in this blog.

Hm. That was strange.

Nevertheless I chose not to bother much with the number anyway. Harshad's number in mathematics, 444 is, and I think that could be quite interesting, extensively speaking. But it is weekend now and I would give my right hand for this day not to end, and I am not in a position to be interested in anything much since it is a good day to just sit down and rest for a bit after such busy streak of weekdays.

But there was something else in my mind that I think is worth writing about.

Now many surely have thought by now that I am going to tale on yet another set of dramatically presented love story accompanied with rather smoothing Jazz or Spanish con-danza in the background while the story develops, and then end with either a good or bad ending. Typical me, people will say.

But today I am to write about something else.

"This is not a love story. This is a story of love."

So pull up the curtain now.

* * *

(500) Days of Summer.

It appeared first before me in Twitter, and then Facebook. Everyone was hyped with it, except that the ones who tweeted or set their status with it were a vast amount of females. At first I thought that this must be some sort of chick flick movies that the ladies will beg or force before gunpoint for their significant male companions to watch with them in order to 'relatively understand women to an extend where every other thing becomes completely unbelievable for the sake of the ladies' state of happiness'. So lest I gave a damn about it, until I see one particular pattern that happened to consume my brain energy to explain but couldn't really quite.

Remember Twilight? Most women love it, most men hate it. Fine, completely understandable. The male casts in Twilight were driving the women nutty-horny and the sloppy men these women belong to felt the insecurity. The women will endlessly talk about it in supercritical excitement, and the men will continuously trash the movie nevertheless. But no men did ever say anything about this Summer movie thing, even though the women had gone off the roofs from it.

So it drove my curiosity to an even greater level.

So since my roommate happened to have the movie, he passed the copy to me yesterday before leaving to his department to run certain errands, leaving me alone with nothing to do but. So i decided to watch the movie by myself accompanied with a fresh box of cigarette and coffee. After all, what could a movie do to you anyway? Plus by watching the movie, probably somewhat my overdriven curiosity could be finally satisfied.

And this was when curiosity killed the cat.

* * *

Summer: A lady so tentatively attractive that she happens to be the eye-candy in every men's eyes she crosses with, with or without mutual communication established.

Fine, I thought - a good looking heroine and one sad-looking, cheap, super-broke, useless good-for-nothing hero that soon comes after her, and the heroine will then change the toilet-flush-worthy fate of the young gentlemen into totally the other way around he is currently going at a rate of 300% rate of success. What a happy ending. Typical Hollywood, I thought.

So I thought.

But that didn't happen. In fact what happened was completely unbelievable; it was shockingly bizarre that I was ungodly terrified while watching the entire movie. I swear that after the movie ended I found myself with the initially wholly fresh, unopened 20-sticks fine Virginian tobacco white cigarette-filled box totally empty, along with six, seven cups worth of coffee, and that pale, horrified facial expression on my face that is still somewhat there at the point I am writing this post.

In fact my roommate stood up completely stunned and speechless when he entered the room just to see me sitting so coldly still on my chair doing a cigarette after another while watching the movie.


The amount of depressions that the movie did supply was extremely generous. Though the story ended with Autumn, what Summer did to Tom did open not only eyes of men but also it reminded them about the terrible stories most of them have kept inside for years long to a point that this movie has made many men trembled down so fast that light speed now looks like a joke. The original storyline, I bet my head on this, I am sure many men have went through painfully, me included. The feelings were so real. Reminiscence came like nobody's business throughout the scenes.

Watching this movie was a huge mistake I did. A very, very, very big mistake I could have ever did, and I did it.

To all men out there with histories of being left by their once significant others, and this is me reminding you in the name of sanity, do not, I repeat, do not ever attempt to watch (500) Days of Summer on a lonely basis. Do not ever, ever, ever do that. Seriously.

* * *

A happy ending that never was.

Overall, it was a good movie. I like the storyline very much. I like how the narrator did his job finely. I like how Summer looks like. I like how their love develops. And I like how in the end Tom finds Autumn. I like to love. I like being in love. I like love.

And today is day (550).

Love. Heh.

Friday, January 22, 2010

The end of birthday event.

To those 343 persons (if my count is right), thank you very much. I wish I could name all of you but that will consume some time. Nevertheless, you know who you are.

To Dr Azhani who came up with the adorable paper bunnies and such lovely and colorful birthday wishes in the form of a picture as depicted above, made roughly a week before the event itself, thank you very much. That was quite an effort, and my, I appreciate it very much. Thank you, thank you.


To Shee who wished me three times in three different medias earlier and still with the attempts to wish me as this post was created, thank you so much Shee darling. Very little could I describe about how I felt when I received endless wishes from you since yesterday evening until tonight. Nevertheless I thank you very much, very very much for your care and attention this whole while. There is of course no possible way I could repay your kindness, Shee darling, and I hope you forgive me for that. Nanti I belanja you coffee occay?


To my delightful Fiza, though you happened to be late to send the warm wishes, I certainly knew that you did try your best to despite your fully-occupied hours. Thank you for being with me all these blistery times, and I sure do hope that you will stay and row the boat with me for a little longer now, though I know that there is no reason to hope for such, for you will always there for me. Nanti I belanja you coffee too occay?


And of course, Fara. The cool, light-headed, coffee lover Fara. Thanks for the support, kindness, friendship and love that you have shown, and for all the beautiful songs you sang for me all these while; the voice so beautiful it stuns me each time it struck the drums in my ears. You will always remain as my best life performer, Fara, and I hope that you will still sing me songs just to chirp some happiness in my gloomy days.


And next is Alia. The soft-spoken, happy-go-lucky, sulky-babygirl Alia. It has been a pleasure to getting to know you and imagine how you have painted my cloudy skies with some daring colors, though at times you tend to play mom with me. Thank you for your comforting words and refreshing company as the days go by. By the way I violated the 4-sticks rule yesterday, mom. Sorry. I'll mow the lawn tomorrow, occay?

The Bro.

Abuzar, you know who you are to me. Need I not say more. Thanks, bro.

The Sis.

Hello Nisyak! Thanks for the personal wish you sent me via phone call the other day. Should one day you need my help, please let me know alright? Anytime for you sis. You have been so kind. In fact, you are just one of a kind. Should too one day you find yourself hurt from some wrongdoers, let me know. I swear I will give them the lesson of their lives to the point they will swear that going out from their mothers' wombs was the biggest mistake they ever did. I love you sis.


Hey there bro. Thanks for brightening my day, Altimet. We sure do need to hit the pavement one day and yeah, we're gonna rock the sin city just for one more bloody time, yaw. Thanks a lot for the conversations we had and stuffs, and peace out. Spread love.


Rina! I want a snake for my birthday! Hahahaha. Ok no. Please no. I was kidding. You give me anything that looks, sounds, move and behave like a snake, and you're gonna get it, occay? Thanks for the wish and thoughts, darling. You know I heart you much =D


My, my. If it's not the elegant-looking Syarifah. Thanks for the wish, darling. Let's go bank on somewhere with Fiza for Ice-cream one fine day, alright? By the way I still want the satay you served the other day. Damn tasty one, that was. Thanks for the experience, Saripahhh! =D


Yelah I was waiting for you during the rain. Happy? Pfftt =b thanks for the wishes, babe!

*sniff sniff*

Busuk! You are so schmelly to me that in the same time you become way too lovely! Thanks for the laughters we had and the arguments and drama we spent time in developing together. You will always be my only Busuk, occay? I still have not anything for your birthday though. Hee.


The only pilot in red kebaya. Thanks for the wishes, babe! I still hate you for not bringing me to LIMA last time. Humph! But you know I heart you kan? Thanks for the great times, babe! =D


Hey. Mengada. Malas makan. Malas mandi. Sekian. =b Thanks for the wishes and the care you showed me, babe! Lain kali jangan Tweet dalam kelas occay?


Hey Q darling. I have decided now that you are now have been upgraded to first class Q. You have been too kind to me. Remember those Morse code conversations we had? That was pretty awesome, did you not think so? Nevertheless, keep coloring my Twitter wall with your funny chants of words, alright? I heart you, babe. Thank you for being the first to call =)

The Chef

Boven, macha, when la I'm gonna get the steak? Hey one day I'll drop by your place la alright? This is my chef friend from Naili's Place, Sentul. Make sure you people who read this go to his place, alright? It is best to come crashing to Naili's in no less than a hundred pax at one time and request his and only his attention for premium food experiences. Way to go, macha!


Zas, aku sayang kau. Kita couple jom?


Miss Mia Suraya. You and your behavior to push me into posting pictures each time I have my hair trimmed and each time I am in my baju melayu and kain pelikat attire. You and your endless ramblings on Asna. You and your funny tweets. Keep my days alive and on, will you? And send my love for beloved Asna deary, though she has definitely poked your days inside out, left to right and upside down.

Iylia, thanks for the everlasting smile and the care that you have showered on me since the day one we got to know each other. Thanks for your advices, your faith and your heartwarming smiles. Thank you for the messages, the calls, among other things.

"Me, Hiddie!"

And last but never least, Smarties! Thanks Smarties for the birthday wish, that was very sweet of you! And thanks for the advice on watching Notting Hill too, I am very sure that that will somewhat help me a little bit here and there. You go kick ass, occay? =D

* * *

And the rest of you from Twitter, Flickr, Photomalaysia, Lelong, Friendster, Skype, Facebook, Bloggers, Nuffnang, UMNO, friends around me and certainly more others, I heart all of you. I wish that I could write about all of you but that will crash down UTP server for the ultra-length post and the heavy contents it has. Nevertheless I thank you so much.

thank you so much people, I love all of you.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Happy birthday, me.

For this birthday I do wish for a number of things:

1. May my future gets brighter day by day. May I have all the things I deserve and may I be showered with the fortune that I am entitled to have.

2. May my studies get along well over time and I am not only to finish my masters by the end of July but to be able to continue my PhD sometime around that month too.

3. May I get successful in everything that I do, and I am able to make certain people proud of me in the pursuit to become something that makes a difference in this quite short life.

4. May I meet that girl of my life. Maybe she's lost her way here or something, I don't know. Nevertheless, I hope she'll be here. It's been some time already.

Thanks for all the wishes, good people. I love you all. I have never had a commotion this big, and it touches me so much just to see the amount of people who bid me neverending wishes since yesterday. Thank you so much. Thank you.


The birthday eve.

A little less than six hours from now, the earth will make another complete cycle for the twenty-fifth time since I first took my breath in.

I feel indifferent towards my birthday this time around. Not that I am totally unhappy about it, but neither too I look forward to it. Strange feelings, really.

Just that I am still wondering what would be my best birthday gift this time around of the year.


Monday, January 18, 2010

"Can I ask you a question?"

She looked rather lovely that night. Knowing her for long as a research partner, I never really did realize that she could appear that lovely at all. Daily attire for us both would be T-shirt and jeans and a layer of white cotton coat on top of all that. No makeup, no accessories, no nothing. She usually put on her retro glasses and just had her hair clipped in a very casual manner.

But in front of me there at that particular time she appeared to be the sort of lady one could never really put their eyes off her. Good choice of attire I must compliment; a good looking black evening dress that followed the curve of her body covering all the way to slightly under her knees while the top area exposed a bit of her shoulder; her hair tied to a bun at the back of her head; and a matching set of pearl earrings and necklace that completed her extravagant look that evening. On her face were a thin layer of facial powder and a few light brushes of blusher on her cheeks, among other things like eyeliner and the such. Her lips were covered with pink-reddish lipstick.

The ambient, dim lighting in the open-air restaurant located somewhere in the uptown area of Ipoh enhanced her beauty to even blossom in a greatly manner, other than to create such romantic mood, spectacularly speaking. And there she was, sitting straight on the cushioned chair at the opposite end of the rectangular mahogany-like dinner table, where in between us was nothing but a rather tiny table lamp to mimic the light usually shone from a lighted candle. Not many customers were there at the moment, despite the usual dinner time which was about to kick in.

Simply said, she's gorgeous.

"Can I?" she repeated that question again. This caused me to slip out from the rather displaced world of mine quite immediately.

"Well sure," I said as I fixed my shirt from under the evening jacket I was wearing while my eyes were on hers. "What is it about?"

"Why out of a sudden you asked me out for dinner?"

"No particular reasons," I replied quite instantly. "I was hungry, still am, and it's Friday night. So I thought it would be great to spend the evening over a decent plate of steak or something. And we are colleagues."

"Well you could have asked some other women, couldn't you now?"

"Well of course I could," I answered her with slight chuckles. "Why, how did that occurred to you? The question I mean."

She rearranged the cutleries on her side of the table using her ring and little fingers. "Nothing,"she replied after a while. "I was just curious that's all."

"Well I thought it would be lovely to have you as a companion tonight," I said.

She responded with a beautiful smile to that. And I replied with one, though not very much of a beauty of a kind. We didn't talk for a while there but to exchange looks from one another.

"You have been single for some time," she finally said something. "Why don't you find someone who suits you?"

I stopped smiling.

* * *

The food was great.

The steak especially; tender and juicy though medium-cooked. The steamed veges were excellent and the dessert too was mind-blowing. We did enjoy our dinner very much, and while waiting for the food to settle we decided to sit at the lounge area where there were plush cushioned sofas and light music. If I was not mistaken, the song that was playing was Ballade for Adeline.

After I ordered a pot of black Javanese for myself and a glass of lime juice for her, I took one of the cigarettes I earlier hand-rolled by myself from the cigarette box and lighted it up. The smell of cherry and vanilla filled the air apart from the usual tobacco smoke.

"You have been overall too quiet during dinner," she said. "Was it something I said?"

"Nah," I replied as I blew the smoke into ring-shapes. "Me, maybe."

"I am very sorry if I did offend you earlier. I did not mean to."

I looked at her. She was sitting straight on the other sofa next to mine with both her legs bent to her left. I saw her fair-skinned legs and her black strap heels. She was playing with one of her earring while her eyes were on the bouquet of red roses on the table next to the ashtray. She looked upset for some reasons.

"Hey," I said to her. "Cheer up. It wasn't your fault."

She remained still on the sofa. My, I have been working with this girl in the lab for some time now, and very little did I know that she could be this sensitive. In the lab she was always considered to be as one of the guys. She's the type who grinds metal like a man, but tonight there she was, being all feminine on me.

"Darla," I said to her (I oftenly use the word Darla to address someone in a softer, loving manner) but she did not respond to me. "Darla, look at me." This time she did, and she looked at me.

"You were right about me," I said and took some time to cleared my throat before continuing. "I have been single for quite some time, yes. How I long for someone to hold and how I crave for a company right by my side for me to have wonderful talk with - at times these feelings pounded onto my spine like a hammer does to a nail, but very little did I ever do about it. At times I chose to only ignore and live my life to the fullest each and every day."

"I started to join many clubs and societies. I got myself indulged in politic. I buried myself in books. Research all day long. Too many activities at one time that sometimes I found myself losing out on doing any of them, for the sake of being busy so that my mind does not linger too much about this loneliness issues."

Our drinks came finally. I tapped the cigarette ash into the ashtray and took two more puffs before killing the cigarette and then proceeded to looking at the ceiling. From the end of my eyes I saw her looking at me.

"But at the end of the day when I come back to that little space I call home, I always wish that there is someone whom I can share my day with. Someone from which I could tell how I got that bloody gasifier working, how the meeting with the engineers went, how big the fishes I fed at the clubhouse, this and that. How I wish I could have that. Did I have one? Had for me hell."

She stood up and sat next to me on my left. I could feel the warmth of her body showering on my face and arms, though they were not touching. Her perfume stroke my nose like a bus does to an unknowing pedestrian, only in a little way too wonderful to explain. She then put her left hand on my chest, on top of my barely beating heart.

"I am sorry. I find myself hurting you just now with my careless words," she said. "But deep in my mind I think that this heart is a strong one, and I am pretty sure that one day it will find one good heart too as a company. I hope that it does not stop beating in before the event takes place."

"I have my sympathy of what you are going through. But I know that matters not at all to you. I hope that my company today somewhat means something to you."

I just smiled half-heartedly to that. What's the point of comforting me anyway? Why, would you want to be my company? Oh no. You have that skinny man you call a boyfriend from which both of us knew that he was out at the time heading to a club in the nation's capital city with his friends and different kinds of chicks he called companies. And what about you Darla? Why the hell were you here and he was there? And why were you letting your tears out of a sudden?

"Promise me that this heart will not stop beating," she said. "Promise me."

* * *

I do.