Monday, February 25, 2013

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

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

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?