Drizzt

There is precious little time given to each one of us who inhabit this earth; precious little time to make use of, to find out what everything is really about. It is as if, from the very moment we are born, life becomes a scramble towards some unknown destination, and we have only our experiences and judgment to act as beacons of guidance. I am no different. For as long as I can remember, life has been this huge search for meaning and purpose. It can be so frightening to even begin to imagine that there is no meaning or answer to this existence. Something within is always there, saying that meaning can be found, that it truly is. It may be intangible and seemingly irrational, yet it is as sure as the ground upon which we stand upon.

It touches me something deep when I read the writings of R. A. Salvatore, especially through the eyes of Drizzt Do’Urden; a fantasy character from a fantasy world that, strangely enough, has so much in common with our own reality. His story, told through many books, is the journal of the lessons that a soul encounters through his life. Salvatore always starts his stories with an intimate look into Drizzt’s thoughts, and throughout the book, Drizzt tells us about the lessons he learns and the new meanings he finds from whatever challenge or adventure or experience he might have.

Drizzt grew up in a world of darkness; among the most corrupt, vicious and wicked people of his world. It was a society that was fueled by anarchy and intrigue, one that follows a warped and twisted religious cause. Deception, lies and violence are the cornerstones of those who live in that dark world, and any who tries to change or is simply different by no fault of their own are quickly eradicated. Drizzt grew up being fed lies and twisted visions of his family. He was trained as a fighter and quickly became the best of his class. Yet, young Drizzt was quick to discover that he would not fit into this world. Deep within, Drizzt found a voice that screamed at him that what he was witnessing around him was not right. When he tried to stand up against those wrongs, he found only the merciless whipping of his elders.

He found his salvation in the form of his father. Drizzt discovered that he was not alone in his struggle. His father shared the same sense of honor and ethics that was passed on to his son. He allowed this side of Drizzt to grow, while affording enough of a protective screen to keep others who were not so tolerant from knowing the truth. Unlike his father, Drizzt could not come to terms with the atrocities his people were responsible for, and soon realized that he had to leave his ‘home’ or lose hope completely. His father’s death proved the last straw as he rebelled against his evil family and the rest of the evil race and escaped that world.

Drizzt Do’Urden found a new world outside on the surface. He found new friends, people who proved to him that he was not alone at all. He discovered the new meanings that life could bring, from the joy of friendship and love to the simple appreciation of the beauty of nature. All the while, Drizzt never forgot his past, never for a moment let go of the lessons that he had learned. More importantly, he always strived to find the best ways to utilize those lessons, through an intense scrutiny of his values and principles, never being afraid to criticize himself. This self-examination allowed him to find better ways to deal with the challenges he faced, and ultimately, helped him find peace and inner calm in a world of adversity and instability. He speaks, among many other things, of courage and what true courage really is. At one time, after the death of a dear friend, Drizzt leaves the ones he loves and returns to his dark home, thinking to put an end to the trouble that his people have been bringing upon the peaceful people, even if it meant he had to die. He initially thinks that his actions are driven by courage, but changes his mind because he realizes that the only reason he is doing it is due to the belief that he has nothing to lose. He is humbled when he discovers that his dearest friend, a young human woman, comes in search for him, fully knowing that she might never return to see sunlight ever again. Drizzt realizes true courage through her then, the willingness to risk all for another, to overcome fear and find determination, knowing that someone dear might be in trouble.

He willingly admits his mistake, and accepts this lesson as another building block in his life. He vows to not let his dear friend down and discovers a purer courage which he uses to help her find their way back to their home on the surface.

Drizzt has something that we all desperately need; the ability to look at ourselves. His willingness to openly question and study himself, his motivations, his intent and identity kept his eyes clear and true. He is always so careful and considerate in all his actions, always putting those he cared about first, and always looking to preserve and protect that which gives life purity and true beauty. We need that ability and we need it badly; each and every one of us. We need it to help us get through the life so that we do not stray and lose sight of ourselves and become something regrettable, something lesser than what we started out as.

I have been trying very hard to nurture this ability. Pride, ego, and pretensions are the biggest obstacles from being able to be honest with myself. It is not easy, having grown up in a world where we must always try to appear strong and be righteous. It is not easy, having been told to stick firm to baseless faiths and questionable values. I have come to learn, though, that it is a necessary effort to be able to willingly tear down our personalities to the smallest, core pieces and look at them as closely as possible. I have been trying hard to question everything, my values, my principles, and my identity and so on, in hopes that I might be able to sort through the rabble and find a purer light. It has not been easy by any means. Introspection can be frightening; terrifying even. Sometimes, we find hidden aspects of ourselves that we wish never to have found. We can hold on to a belief for so long a time, thinking for all its worth that it is right, then one day, in the cold light of truth, we find out that we have been living a lie.

That is how I felt when I discovered the truth of what we call ‘race’ and ‘religion’. When once I might have thought of race as an aspect of identity and a source of pride, now I only need to remind myself of a simple fact; cut us all, and we bleed the same. The same applies to religion. We have, for so long, allowed the words of individuals we have never met, who lived long ago, determine our faiths. So strongly do we hold on to them that we will even willingly kill those unbelievers who question us? I used to be strongly religious, right up to the time when I discovered that faith and religion are two different and entirely separate things. Faith is personal, intimate and forms the base of identity. Religion is another tool of social control that makes us do things for no better reason than to please others who claim to know ‘better’ than us. True faith will tell us to question all things and take responsibility of our own actions and the consequences that result; religion creates a pretense that we are just pawns, completely out of control of our lives so that whatever we do, as long as it is acceptable by the dominating group, is perfectly alright.

For us to come to terms with who we are and what we are about, we need to be able to face ourselves. We need to take responsibility, first and foremost, of everything we do. Self-doubt is not a weakness; it might be the only thing that will keep us from making mistakes. The more honest and open we are to ourselves, the more likely we are to find the right path to follow. For me, this continuing effort has allowed me to find what truly matters in life. This difficult journey has made me realize that the most important things in life are also the simplest. So far, I have learned that humility through the acceptance that no one is greater than me but also that I am no greater than anyone else. I have learned that it is important to put others before myself, even if others seem to be in the wrong at first. Just as Drizzt has found his meaning and purpose, so too should we try to find the truth within ourselves. The key, without question, without doubt, is being completely honest to ourselves and finding the courage to look deeply and closely at what makes us tick.

“Know Thyself” - Socrates

Armageddon's Children

Two nights ago, I finished reading this wonderfully wonderful new book by Terry Brooks, called Armageddon’s Children. It is one of, if not the, best book he has ever written, and with him being my favorite author, it is one of my favorite books.

Every good author has a unique ability to write. They have something to their words that makes them stand out, whether it is in building a character, creating suspense, intrigue, or painting vivid pictures. For the authors whose work I have read extensively, I am able to identify certain characteristics to their writing that is particularly unique. It is nothing special, anyone who has a favorite author knows the style of writing well enough to identify these things. R.A. Slavatore, for instance, has one of the best action choreography skills in writing that I have read. John Saul knows the best ways to touch the fear nerve using everyday concepts. De Lint builds characters and blends reality, dreams and music seamlessly.

Mr. Brooks paints the most incredible and amazing pictures in your head. Never has it been more apparent than in Armageddon’s Children. For decades, his Shannara novels created this wonderful fantasy world where every book is an epic on to its own, on scales that most authors would shudder to attempt. His imagery and vision are his key ingredients. With him, you get this look into this huge and beautiful world from a seemingly all-encompassing point of view.

In this latest book, he does the same but with a different tone; darkness. The imagery and vivid pictures are all there, but they now carry a terrifyingly dark tinge to them. This is largely due to the fact that the setting is that of Earth eighty years from now, in what was referred to by Amazon.com as a ‘worst-case scenario’ of the current world conditions. In other words, it is a world where war and pollution have won out and civilization has been reduced to siege mentality. People find themselves living like refugees inside big stadiums and sports complexes and defending themselves from… other things. Humans are no longer the dominant species. Mutation has caused the birth of new races of creatures from human beings, and these creatures are left outside to survive. Some humans who think that living inside confined spaces in a death sentences choose to stay outside, including tribes of young children and teens.

This story is a new series in Brooks’ repertoire, but it is actually a merging of his two biggest worlds. The first is the Word and Void series, which is set in the real world in current times. The stories were of a much more localized scale and very much closer to home. It was a blend of urban life with fantasy and magic. The series were his first true forays into darker and starker visions. There was a distinct edge to those books. The second world needs no introduction; any fan of fantasy or literature will know what Shannara stands for. Tolkien had Middle-Earth; Brooks has Shannara. Brooks is attempting something that borders on impossible. He is attempting to actually merge the two worlds, making the world of Shannara as an aftermath of our current reality. The amazing part is that, based on Armageddon’s Children, is that he is gotten off to an incredible start. So much so that it is frightening. The images he has painted of our future are to close to home, in a way, and I have been unable to forget them or get them out of my head. Judging by how our world today is going, what Brooks prophesizes seems inevitable. I warn you, it is no pretty picture. Yes, there are demonic creatures and wild magic in his book, but even with those elements, the world that he projects is very much our own.

There is so much about this new book that is fresh, beautiful and frightening all at once. The characters have facets to them that are new yet very distinctly Brooks. The parallels and references he makes are quite frankly astounding and bordering on controversial. Dick Cheney as a Pitbull spoiling for a fight… make your own conclusions. The Moses and the exodus reference is also another big point that pretty much defines this new series. It is a book that needs to be read, by anyone who likes a good story. I read the first third of the book on the first two days after buying it, then finished it in one sitting, at night, late into the wee hours of early morning. I was unable to put it down and the cliffhangers made me slightly angry because I now have to wait till the end of 2007 to know what happens. READ THIS BOOK!

Orbits

Fifty years from now, I would be very surprised if the world remains anywhere near the same as it does today.

Someone was saying that things are about to get very bad in this country. That someone was speaking at a show for stand-up comedians, and he was quite serious. He said that laughter and humor is important, because we need such things to carry us through the bad times that are about to come. We need to be able to laugh it all off and not let it get us down too much, because it will get bad...very bad. This was not just some guy off the streets; it was someone very well respected in the media industry. His words, well, had to be taken pretty seriously.

In a way, it is not something that unexpected. Anyone who pays attention to these things will be able to tell that a lot of things have changed; a lot of things are still changing, and not necessarily for the better. Everyday there is more and more talk about racial discrimination, marginalization of people, economic problems,corruption... and the only response by those is power to all this is to warn people to not speak about it; as if by keeping silent, the problems will go away. They are worried that someone might say things that will incite the different racial groups, hence they came up with the silly little Sedition Act, supposedly to curb an such acts of civil misconduct. In reality, that Act has been more successful at curbing people's fundamental rights to the point of even stopping well-intentioned individuals from highlighting important issues such as abuse in detention camps. The Act, meant to prevent people from saying racially sensitive things, is nothing more than a weapon for the authorities to gag anyone who speaks against them who does not happen to have political connections or is filthy rich. No wonder someone accused us as turning into a police state.

Some might argue that this is nothing new. True enough; the Sedition Act has been around for more than a decade, almost two now. The repercussions, however, are cumulative, and the effects of constant media restrictions and censorship has never been more apparent. The American's are so paranoid over Big Brother; Malaysian's think it is a natural state of being. That is the saddest part, the fact that we are so accepting of our dronal, silent, existence. We are content to be blind and ignorant; in fact, our entire lifestyle reflects this. There are not too many places, I am sure, where the people of a society are so ignorant of the glaring problems within their own country. No one gives a rat's ass until the problem comes knocking on their doors. I have an excellent example; I was at a job interview yesterday, and the two managers from the company who were conducting the interviews looked at my resume and asked me if Amnesty International was some kind of College. Progress indeed...

This must sound like a broken record at times; yet this is exactly what the few of us in this country who actually care are stuck doing. It is difficult to solve all the problems, probably impossible. There will always be problems and issues that societies have to learn to handle. The problem that this society has, however, is something akin to the green algae that grows on the surface of ponds. The Oxygen and light sapping algae that causes a process known as eutrophication is a problem in many parts of the world because it pretty much stunts the growth of life in these ponds and lakes. This happens because the algae covers the surface, cutting off light which is so important for life underwater. Hence, it pretty much starves and suffocates life inside these ponds, incapacitating it of any sort of ecological progress.

Ignorance is the algae of this society; of any society in similar circumstances. Our ignorance stunts our development, it inhibits our progress. Progress, despite what we might think, is not measured by technology and infrastructure. It is measured by our personal growth, our maturity and compassion as licing beings. That is the true form of progress, something that lies within rather than outside. True progress will occur when we stop thinking of ourselves and start putting others before ourselves. Unfortunately, our ignorance of the problems we have is preventing us from going anywhere, of doing anything. We are pretty much stuck in this state of being for a long time, or at least until another huge wave comes to visit our beautiful but fast-vanishing shores and wipes us all out...

Anna Molly
As I was browsing through the bleesed archives of YouTube, I came across this gem... the latest from Incubus, from their upcoming album, Light Grenades.... these dudes rock...

On Race

There was an article in the newspaper a few days ago... well, more like the headlines which went "Don't play the racial card", spoken by some cabinet minister in the circus that passes for a government in this country. Spoken, I should point out, in the context of tactics that might be employed to fish for votes in the coming election. He or she was refering to those who might try to bring up racial inequality issues such as welath distribution, affirmative action, etc as means of gathering support.

Now, do not get me wrong, this is not intended as a anti-government rant or anything. Nothing of the sort. This is about something else; this is about the concept of race itself, which is proving to be such an important 'reality' in our lives, especially in this country, Malaysia. A train of thought led me to start pondering about what race means; about what being regarded as a member of a particular race in a so-called multi-racial society as this means. Ont he surface, it might seem like the most obvious thing in the world to most people, but having spent some time deliberating on it, as always, the lines of black and white start to blur, metaphorically speaking.

To those who take it as important, I am labelled as an Indian. Again, this might seem as a ridiculously obvious statement. Not so. Whenever I fill up a form about myself, in the race column, I find myself ticking or writing down 'Indian', without really stopping to think about it. Almost as if it was second nature, like ticking homo sapien in the species column, if there ever was one. It is not very obvious as to why I am an Indian, or why anyone else belongs to any particular race that they might be put into.

There are many different ways of looking at this. Many differnet definitions of race exist out there, and i cannot really deal with all of them; only with those that are relevant to my current situation and context. I suppose that the main reasonings behind the racial division in this country, in this society are things like family background, language, religion and customs. The irony is that even these things come with enough extra baggage and ambiguous meanings that can drive a person mad. I will try anyway, at the risk of my marbles.

Why am I Indian? Why am I not Indian? Never mind...

I guess if one were to look at family background as a reason for racial categorization, then I guess I am an Indian. Then again, what brings about this reasoning anyway? Because my great-great-grandparents were from India? Lets face it, that is what lies at the bottomline. That maybe so, but I was never born in India; I have never been to India. Heck, I don't even KNOW my great grandparents. I grew up in an Indian family, or at least that is what they say, but then again, I also grew up in a 'Malay' school, I grew up with 'Chinese' best friends, etc. Why does the family factor come first? is it written in our blood? It is a bit of an amateurish argument, I know, but any discussion about race feels childish to me anyway.

The language argument is not a very strong one, so no point arguing about it all that much. Just because I speak Tamil does not make me Indian, because I can also speak Malay and English and I know plenty of people of other 'races' who speak multiple languages. I mention this because there have been many an occasion when I have been told that I should speak and be well versed in Tamil because I am 'Indian'. That puts the language into the definition of a race, which would technically make me 'Indian, Malay and ermm...either English or American' at the same time.

Religion is a touchy issue, mostly because in itself it is a very confusing and personal matter. I would not normally include it as an argument, but because of the context of this society, where Islam, for instance, is synonymous to being Malay, as they claim, religion does play an important role. This does not apply as much to 'Indians', who are considerably more liberal with the entire religion-race thing, and the 'Chinese' even more so. However, this does not mean that it does not exist at all. It is quite common to see a family of 'indians' imposing Hinduism or Christianity on their children. This applies to other 'races' as well. Hinduism is almost completely an 'indian' thing. So does that make me Indian? Well, not in this case, because I gave up Hinduism long ago.

Maybe it is customs then. Practices and lifestyles? Perhaps. As I said before, I have never been restricted to any particular group... as is the ase with most Malaysians. We have all at some points in our lives come in contact with the other 'races', so to speak. More so, a lot of us learn, eat, sleep, socialize and grow up with people of other 'races'. We are not limited to any one type of influence or custom, no matter how much we delude ourselves. I cannot say that I grew up Indian because I did not, simply because I spent a lot of time with member so of the other 'races' as well, learning their ways, their beliefs, and practices. That applies to all of us, does it not? In this matter, who can safely claim to be of any particular 'race'?

All these arguments have made it clear to me as to why I can never ever think of myself as an Indian again, or any other 'race'. This is not meant to include anyone else, because this is a very personal matter that each of us needs to deal with. It is important because it is a matter of personal identity. When we put ourselves into a category, when we label ourselves as such, we should be aware of what it all means and why we make these decisions. Never blindly. At least, that is what I feel...

"A great person will know that there is no one better than them...
A greater person will know that they are not better than anyone else..."
-Pagonel, R.A.Salvatore's Immortalis

Echoing the Soul

As I write this, Holly Brook is playing on my good old 2.1 pc speakers. I like Holly, she is quite distinct, despite being new to the music scene. The genre listing on the player lists her as 'slow rock', which, as far as my definition of rock goes, fits fine enough. Not that I like categorising artists into... well... categories. It just sort of makes sense, compared to all the other stupid labels there are out there... Screamo?
Right....

Ms. Brook was the same vocalist on that Fort Minor song, in case anyone is wondering. No worries, though, her music is not even remotely similar to that whatever-they-are. Holly Brook, for lack of a better comparison, is more of a female version of Chris Martin, with a generally darker tone. Fits right into the stuff that I am into. The songs are soft, for most part, and at times almost-radio friendly, but only to a station that is into good music. She does not perform nuclear science here, just the basics, and it works... good lyrics, piano-driven music, and an excellently breathy voice. To follow that Chris Martin similarity, she even has a song called 'Like Blood, like Honey' which is of the similar tempo and mood as 'Parachutes', by Coldplay, including the single acoustic guitar plucking. The song even has some tinges of classic Jewel. Coldplay, Jewel... still wondering why I like her?

Holly Brook is not quite the Breaking Benjamins, Evanescences, or Funeral for a Friends of this world, which is what I am more inclined to, so maybe it is a bit surprising for me to listen to her as well. No down-tuned, heavily distorted power chords, no vocalist screaming and bleeding their throats off, no poison laced lyrics... yet I think she is brilliant.

This whole thing called musical interests is a funny thing. It can, however, be summed up in one simple question; why do some people absolutely love one form of music while others absolutely despise it?

This question may take on many appearences. Here are some from my viewpoint:

1. Why does pop music suck so bad at times and are tolerable on others?
2. Why do I hate hip-hop and rap so much while others think its awesome?
3. Why do other people fall in love with hard alternative music the way that I did?

As you can see, these three questions are all centred around me... not because I'm a self-centred bastard (which I hopefully think I am not..am I?), but because I do not have the balls to even assume I understand what other people's perspectives on music might be like. I ain't that stoopid...

Music reflects the voice of the soul. The soul being the sincere, honest, and pure entity within each and every one of us. At least, that is how I look at it. Not really looking to venture into a discussion about the soul here, so let us, for the sake of this entry, assume that the soul is a substantial element of our make-up. Our FORM.

On the outside, we may be anything, and everything. We might try to be. WE put on masks, images, personalities... things that are not truly us, but we put them on anyway because that is how we want to be seen. Essentially, it is an easy exercise, because the part of us that is purest, the soul, is so well hidden and difficult to find anyway. It takes a really seasoned, wise, and sensitive person to be able to see through the layers... and how does one do it? Through music.

Nothing speaks to and understands our souls as well as the music we listen to. Be careful not to misunderstand me, I use the word "Listen" very deliberately. Not just hearing music, not just hearing a cool beat and thumping our body parts to it... but listening. The music that we listen to are those that bear special meaning to us, individually, uniquely... usually something that other people simply cannot understand. More often than not, each one of us will have a special song or two that seems to speak so truly to our deepest thoughts and feelings. Not just on special occasions, but at all times... a song that, in many ways, seems to define us. Just like a good book is able to read us, a good song listens to us... listens patiently to our pains, our secrets, our truths as we ouselves perceive them.

When I think about the kind of music that I enjoy, that I am able to appreciate, yes, there are certain similarities in all of them that I can identify, and they do reflect on many elements that are dear to me. The music reflects who I have become, why things are the way they are and what will be. The music that I listen to reflects the things that I believe to be important; purity, honesty and sensitivity. Sometimes, there are so many things, so many wounds and scars that we really want to just ignore and hide, but there comes a time when letting them go, seeking closure and freedom are the only way for us to move on. It is about dealing with the deepest thoughts and feelings we might have. That is what the music that I love does for me. That is how it speaks to my soul.

All that darkness and depressing music that I listen to is not me having a death wish... quite the opposite, these songs are about finding a way out that is true, not just illusions, they are about confronting the most hidden parts of the soul and seeing it for what it is. This kind of explains why I listen only to hard rock with hopeful, positive lyrics, and none of that death metal stuff.

Perhaps I am wrong, but maybe, just maybe, this is how music really affects us? For a fan of good music such as me, it is a journey that is ongoing and never-ending... and it is one we embrace willingly.

Fully Alive

Hey guys, as you can see, I've decided to give this blog of mine a facelift. It has been a while since I did something nice for this little webpage that has been chronicling my thoughts for so long, and it's long overdue. A big thanks to Caz for his brilliant template. I've including the link to his page on the side, so go check it out. Anyway, to inaugurate the new-look blog, here's a music video by a really fascinating new voice in alternative rock called Flyleaf. The song is called Fully Alive. Enjoy...

Diary of Jane (Acoustic)

This is not the same as the original acoustic version on “Phobia”. It is a different version entirely meant to be played on acoustic guitar.

Notes: Capo on the 1^st Fret, Standard Tuning

Intro (strum)

Am

--- -0-----0-----0----0----0-1------0-----0-----3--1---0---

---- 1-----1--- --1----1----1---------1-----1------1--1---1---

--- -3-----3-----3----3----3---------3-----3-----3--3---3---

-2--2-----2---- -2----2----2---------2-----2-----2--2---2---

-0--0-----0-----0----0----0--------0-----0-----0--0---0---

----------------------------------------------------------------

Verse and Chorus Chords

Am F G C D B5

--0-----1--------3--------0-------2--------------

--1-----1--------0--------1-------3--------------

--3-----2--------0--------0-------2--------4-----

--2-----3--------0--------2-------0--------4-----

--0-----0--------2--------3---------------- 2----

------------------3--------------------------------

Chorus Solo (Optional for Second Guitar)

-----9--8--9--8--9--11----9---8---9/11—11/13---13/11---11-----

--------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------

---------------------------------------------------------------------

--------------------------------------------------------------------

-----9--8--9--8--9--11---9--8—9/11---11/13---13/11--11----

----------------------------------------------------------------

----------------------------------------------------------------

----------------------------------------------------------------

---------------------------------------------------------------

---------------------------------------------------------------

--6--8--9--11--9--11--14--13--------------------------------

----------------------------------------------------------------

----------------------------------------------------------------

----------------------------------------------------------------

---------------------------------------------------------------

---------------------------------------------------------------

Chords

Am

If I had to, 

Am

I would put myself right beside you

Am

So let me ask

                  F

Would you like that?

F

Would you like that?

Am

And I don't mind

Am

If you say this love is the last time

Am

So now I'll ask

             F

Do you like that?

F

Do you like that?

No….

Am

Something's getting in the way

F

Something's just about to break

C                               B5                       F

I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane

F               G

So tell me how it should be

Play Intro x1

Am

Try to find out what makes you tick

Am

As I lie down

Am

Sore and sick

             F  

Do you like that?

F

Do you like that?

Am

There's a fine line between love and hate

Am

And I don't mind

Am                            F  

Just let me say that I like that

F

I like that

Am

Something's getting in the way

F

Something's just about to break

C                               B5                      Am

I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane

Am

As I burn another page

F

As I look the other way

C                                B5                    F

I still try to find my place in the diary of Jane

F               G                          Am

So tell me how it should be

Bridge Solo (Optional for Second Guitar)

---------------------------------------------------------------------

--11--13--9-------------9-----------11--13--9------------9--9/11--

--------------8/10--10----8--7-----------------8/10-10------------

---------------------------------8-----------------------------------

---------------------------------------------------------------------

---------------------------------------------------------------------

C

Desperate, I will crawl

B5

Waiting for so long

Am

No love, there is no love

C

Die for anyone

B5

What have I become

Am

Something's getting in the way

F

Something's just about to break

C                               B5                       Am

I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane

Am

As I burn another page

F

As I look the other way

C                               B5

I still try to find my place

                    Am                                              

In the diary of Jane

Play Intro to end

Literature as Social Commentary

-As Presented by ENGLISH 200 in Our Final Presentation

“The duty of literature is to note what counts, and to light up what is suited to the light. If it ceases to choose and to love, it becomes like a woman who gives herself without preference” - Anatole France

Literature as social commentary is probably the most valuable and important possession of humanity. It is the primary channel through which civilization may move forward because it forces us to take a closer look at our lives and realities in order for us to see our flaws. When a writer or a poet decides to put pen to paper, it is usually to express their feelings about an aspect of their lives that has affected them deeply. Often, this becomes a form of social commentary, where the author’s work highlights certain aspects of human life that need to be addressed. These issues that are highlighted through literature-poetry, fiction, and other forms of the written word- are those that are causing a great deal of damage in society. These include racism, gender discrimination, stratification, inequality and a long list of others. When we selected the two works for our presentation- Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird and Arthur Miller’s The Crucible- we wanted to focus on the importance of these two books as examples of relevant and important social commentary. The main issues that we wished to highlight were racial inequality and the evils of ‘witch-hunts’.

First of all, it might be useful to understand what social commentary is, what it represents and why it is important. As mentioned earlier, social commentary is the highlighting of certain aspects of human life and interactions to draw attention and concern towards issues that need to be addressed. Literature that functions as social commentary, according to The Bellwether Prize for Fiction, is work that “may describe categorical human transgressions in a way that compels readers to examine their own prejudices” (1). This is usually done in order to bring about, or invoke the need for, economic and social justice for particular ethnic groups such as racial minorities. Social commentary also includes works that explore study, analyze, and criticize social change, both positive and negative. However it is important to understand that not all works that cry out against injustice or detail the predicament of suffering individuals can be considered social commentary. In order for a work to be considered as such, the author must display a clear position of social analysis (Bellwether 1). In other words, there must be an amount of ‘social responsibility’ shown. Social responsibility is the moral obligation of individuals to engage with their communities in ways that promote a more respectful coexistence. Throughout the history of literature, the best writers are often those who had experienced the terrible inequalities and injustices in their communities and chose to express their opinions about it by calling out for change that will serve towards the betterment of society as a whole. Early authors such as Anne Bradstreet strived against the oppression of women, while others such as Mark Twain, Harper Lee and W.E.B Dubois fought against racial inequality in American society.

Now that the importance of social commentary has been established, a closer look can be given to the two books that were chosen for the presentation. The first book is To Kill a Mockingbird. The issue of concern is racism, racial inequality and double standards in the American societies of the South. Harper Lee chose to portray the condition of the blacks during the period when slavery was still being practiced. This was a period when the black community was stratified to the lowest social rank, even lower than the most downtrodden whites. As a result of their isolation and sub-human treatment, they became the scapegoats for all the mishaps and troubles in the society. Due to the superior statuses of the whites, the black community had very little avenues in which to seek justice and fair representation. Society had become so stratified racially that it developed a highly discriminatory and racist double standard. The trial of Tom Robinson is the perfect example of the practice of this double standard. Despite the lack of concrete evidence, the predominantly white jury declared Tom Robinson, a black man, guilty of raping a white girl. The conviction was made based on the contradictory testimonies of the supposed ‘victim’ and her father, who was notorious for his own bad habits and violent behavior. Their word was given greater value than that of the defendant, simply because they were white. Atticus Finch, in his closing speech, openly states the situation;

“The witnesses for the state… have presented themselves to you gentlemen, to this court, in the cynical confidence that their testimony would not be doubted, confident that you gentlemen would go along with them on the assumption- the evil assumption- that ALL Negroes lie, that ALL Negroes are basically immoral beings, that ALL Negro men are not to be trusted around our women…” (Lee 225)

This is a very base but highly accurate portrayal of the harsh reality of racism in that particular society. Harper Lee’s intention is clear-cut; she wants readers to see and understand the plight of the black community due to oppression by the whites and she is screaming out for change and justice.

Ezra Pound, author of ABC of Reading, once said that literature is news that stays news. In this sense, the second book selected for the presentation, Arthur Miller’s The Crucible, is the epitome of perpetual social relevance. Even though it is set in the Puritanical times of 17^th century America, the issues brought up in the play have not diminished whatsoever in significance to modern and post-modern societies. The play itself is supposed to be an allegory of the McCarthyism period in America, so it is not surprising that it has such a hugely relevant message. Basically, Miller is trying to show the evils of the ‘witch-hunt’ practices that took place during the Salem Trials and the similarities with McCarthyism.

“In the countries of the Communist ideology, all resistance of any import is linked to the totally malign capitalist succubi, and in America any man who is not reactionary in his views is open to the charge of alliance with the Red Hell. Political opposition, thereby, is given an inhuman overlay which then justifies the abrogation of all normally applied customs of civilized intercourse.” (Miller 38)

The parallels that Miller himself draws represent a form of social commentary, without the use of subtle language or indirect hints. His own personal experience with McCarthyism provides him with the earlier mentioned position of social analysis, which also forms the foundation of his social responsibility. The particular scene that we chose to portray from this play is the fourth Act where John Proctor is eventually led to be hanged. This scene is particularly poignant because it shows how the abuse of authority ruins the lives of innocent people.

As a conclusion to this write up, it might be useful to re-emphasize the huge importance of literature as social commentary. It is with this method that concerned individuals strive to invoke social justice for those who are oppressed or suffering. The reason for this is because they themselves may have seen, felt, observed and experienced those hardships. It is through their works that we, as readers, are compelled to recognize and do something about our own flaws and prejudices, and, ultimately, become better human beings.

“A classic is a book that has never finished saying what it has to say” -Italo Calvino, The Literature Machine

References

QuoteGarden Quotations about Literature http://www.quotegarden.com/literature.html

Defining a literature of social change The Bellwether Prize for Fiction http://www.bellwetherprize.org/default.htm

Golden light,
I can almost see it now,
shining through the dark grey clouds,
striking like burning rays of fire against the monuments,
that stand like dark monoliths of a long-forgotten civilization...

from what was once darkness,
from those alleyways and streets of night they come,
walking out towards the golden light that shines,
nothing more than small dark shadows from where i stand
like ants against the dark giants that those monuments were...

Towards the golden light they came,
all the world in shades of black and gold,
the darkness ending and fading into where the light touches the world,
towards the light they all walked,
away from the monuments that they built themselves...

Into Her arms they walked,
humbled in their shame and hoping for her forgiveness,
for their pride and insatiable greed and desire,
for trying to control what was never meant to be controlled,
there was so much to atone for...

Into the Golden Light they walked,
and the monuments they built came crashing down,
buildings of concrete now nothing but dust,
clouds of brown dust that rise to the skies to be blown away by the wind,
where they stood now lay a barren land...

I see them now,
the faces that held humility and shame,
and hope,
fueled by the warmth of the Light,
the Golden Light,
that now embraces me,
and takes me into Her arms....

DOes it make you want to turn to face me and tell me,
all the things that you never had a chance to say,
or is it just another fit of screaming that you wish to vent,
the same old decaying wails that you let on me every day...

It doesn't take much for you to see that i hate this,
yet, you keep turning blind wheneverit suits you,
regardless of the times i've looked away in pain and anger,
you keep using me and leave me with nowhere to turn to

I'm sick of being the one listening wordlessly to you,
will you even remember my name when you're done?
if this is your twisted, corrupt, illusion of a love,
then i want it no more, i want you to be gone...

Like Raindrops on the Windscreen

Moments pass by, sometimes completely unnoticed, as days melt nto weeks, and weeks into months; time flows past like the tiny droplets of rain washing of the windscreen of my little car. As we drive past places I have known, but never before seen in this light, the light of your company, the light of your eyes, where the world is more than what it used to be and I see everything for the first time once more; deep breaths of fresh air, and pure rays of sunlight.

Passing by the buildings and streets of a memory long-standing, feeling for a moment as though time has slowed down to a crawl and the rest of the world is at a standstill, stopping to gaze at you and me as we gaze at the rest of the world. An ethereal peace that overcomes, saturates... a flood of bliss, spreading and rolling, like raindrops on the windscreen...

These moments I feel only with you. These feelings that I have never known before, yet feel so natural and right...so perfect, I do not want them to ever end. Safety, shelter, home in a tiny moving car... our sanctuary is in each other, two drifters off on another adventure. Nothing can possibly be better than this, nothing could feel more perfect.

Tell me everything that you see,
with those deep brown eyes,
everything you see that passes you by,
as you stand still by the windows
of your so-called unloved life

If you'd only take the time to see,
that its not as lonely as you think,
it seems as if you see everything else,
except the one who is standing here,
right in front of you...

I'm no illusion,
I'm no lie,
I'm letting you know now,
I'm here till I die...

Capture the still frame of your heart,
break it to a thousand shards,
and melt the pieces to put back together,
maybe then you can open those dark eyes,
and feel the warmth fill you...

Tell me with those eyes of yours,
if what you see is real now,
tell me this man in front of you,
is more than just an illusion,
that I am more than a lie...

I'm no illusion,
not a lie...

Between Places

"When trapped in a cage for very long time, the world can seem like a really big place" - Mr. Miyagi, The Next Karate Kid

Things change. Change has always been one of the defining traits of nature. It is inevitable; it cannot be stopped. Nothing is permanent. To seek preservation that defies this is to live in a non-existant reality. To stagnate is to to give a path of attack for decay. Change, for better or worse, can be both an ally and a fearsome foe. We may only do what we can with the time that is given to us, with the knowledge and experience and wisdom that we may ave acquired to face change, and the outcome... well, that is something nobody may be able to discern.

I have come to a point in my life where great changes are occuring. To me, and to those around me, as well as the world that I reside within. Then again, it would be wrong of me to think that great changes have not been constantly taking place; quite the contrary, the process never stops. No one, no single living being, may bethe judge of what is truly and ultimately right and wrong in the world, because no one truly has the ability to see the great picture; the great reality, if there is even such a thing. Ultimately, we may all only accomplish what seems right to us at the time. Yet, this is no reason to think that a person who commits a seemingly evil act may find justification by claiming no one really understands wht is right and wrong; it is our basic nature to want to survive, and to seek the best manner to survive. The best method of survival is not to eradicate our enemies and getting to the top. It is collectivity and cultivation. Both these methods advocate the process of change, yet unfortunately, due to our humanistic short-sightedness, we constantly seek the short term alternative of competition and survival of the fittest.

What happens when different, warring, entities collide in the field of battle, fighting over a limited resource? Someone wins and someone loses, and the winner gains control of the resource. However, the loser, the one who is pushed down, begins to adapt and rise back up to fight back and regain control, and the cycle goes on and on; the only definite is that the resource is being used up, uncultivated and dried up. Metaphoric and ambiguous though my description might be, but the real-world examples are aplenty that I will not bother to mention any at the moment. No, despite what some of us may think, competition is not the means to ultimate survival. It is a negative, destructive process of change that advocates one thing; loneliness and emptiness. At the end, there can only be one winner, and the world will become empty, void, corrupt, and the one who is at the winning end will feel only one thing for all their efforts; loneliness.

True survival, true adaptation to change requires a far more subtle method. It requires collectivity and cultivation. Everything that drives nature revolves around the cultivation of life. Nature changes constantly, yet the balance is so dynamic that eventually it creates this amazing element we call life. Life and death has always been a process of change that is neither positive nor negative; it is not about creation and destruction, but merely the way the balance of give-and-take works. Give-and-take is what keeps nature working the way it does, and we are constantly eroding it. Eroding it with our industry and capitalistic tendencies, our insatiable thirst for mass consumption and our careless use of nature's resources.

If we do not seek to change, if we do not learn that it is only through collectivity that we may survive in the long run, then there really is no hope for us.

But that is not what I came here to talk about.

It is change that I am seeking in my life right now. There are things that are running in my head, things that I think I should be doing, together with other things that I do not fully understand yet; this much I am sure, I am dissillusioned with the type of life I am living right now. I have had enough of living the way that the society around me wants me to; I am tired of searching for ambition, of competing, of meeting other's expectations. I am bored of the lifestyles that the people I know live. Bored of the life I am leading. I need a change.

It is not suicide I seek; I value the gift of life far too much for that. Recently, something truly wonderful and beautiful happened to me. Something that opened my eyes, something that opened the door of the cage that I have been trapped in for a long time, something that peeled off another layer of the rose-tinted glasses that I wear. It is true what some people say, that knowledge is more about discovering yourself rather than what is outside. I seek change; I have been inspired to seek it out by that miracle.

What that change is, I am not entirely sure; but I know that it is imminent.

The Psychological Theater

It is bewildering and mystifying the way the theater of the mind works. There are few forces as powerful as the mind; the imagination and the strength of emotion working in tandem can be incredible tools for those who know the art of using them. It can be used to create a host of perceived realities and illusions that seem as solid light; playing upon vulnerabilities, prejudices, biases, preferences, and other predispositions. These predispositions create avenues for those who can find them; avenues to create new possibilities, new emotions, and new behaviors that either play upon or against those afore-mentioned elements.

Such is the mechanism behind most forms of art. There is this incredible blending of imagination and emotion that creates this boundless, borderless world where anything is possible, far beyond the limitations of the physical world. A vast field where the mind roams, once the false borders and restrictions that are put in place are broke down. Psychological walls of beliefs and values that are inconsistent, irrational and ultimately unnecessary only hinder the mind from being what it can and should be; a world of its own, a world of elemental forces far greater than any in this ‘real’ world.

Such is the mechanism behind drama plays. The playwright creates the world; the actors become the psychological elements and forces that manipulate the audiences. What is the measure of a successful play? For me, it is the extent of the control that the actors are able to exert upon the minds of the audience. Unlike other forms of art, where the reader or listener or viewer is able to allow the mind to roam free, theater plays are all about manipulation and influence and control; the audience is never allowed to go further than what the actors would want them to. An interesting reversal of the entire concept of art; but then again, theater is not really art, is it? It becomes more an exercise of control and power. The script itself is a medium, a door that opens up possibilities; therefore it retains its artistic purity. However, when there are actors interpreting characters, and making decisions on what they want to portray, it becomes consolidated; it becomes established; it becomes structured. Power is established and control is exhibited.

Such control becomes integral for the play. Psychologically demanding plays such as mystery thrillers require a huge amount of control and depth of the part of the actors, who have to make sure that the audience only thinks in a pattern that they have already set, and not beyond. Every single realization, assumption and deceptions must be something the actors expect and set out, for only then can they establish the climax that they seek. Characters represent mediums for this form of control to be exerted. The audience will expect it; it is only when they are able to make judgments and think beyond the expectations of the actors that the play fails as they will automatically be disappointed. They want to be taken for a ride; they want the unpredictability that will give them a rush of emotions and feeling. That is what the actors should aim for.

Some Photos I took recently...

This one is a shot of a mural taken at the Museum of Natural History of Malaysia

Sunway Pyramid at night, taken from a pedestrian bridge

Sunflare...


Indeed, I met my dearest Swan again...

Heavenly....

Could I?

You always make this day seem a little bit brighter,

Even though you are so far away from here,

As I,

Ask myself if it is only my insanity,

That I,

Could stay in love forever…

Forever is a word so long it seems an idealist’s dream,

But for us who live for dreams what better life could we ask for?

And I,

Get on my skinned knees and plead…

That I,

Could stay in love forever…

Dreams they shift and change with the passage of River Time,

Yet some persist and remain like the ancient stones of the Riverbed,

Can I,

Stay in love with you?

It has been a while since I last wrote anything on this here blog. Why has it been so long? Well, the reasons are numerous, but I suppose the most important of all is my own laziness which I shall not deny. True, I have been swamped with a lot of work lately, but that is just a sorry excuse, for I have had more than enough opportunities to type something to be put up here; I just did not take them. I have been thinking a lot about this blog and how it has evolved into whatever it is now. It used to be something very personal, dealing with things that I myself was going through, but it started changing and becoming something a lot more...holistic, perhaps? It deals with different things now, not necessarily about myself, but more towards things that come up now and then, or things that are not so apparent, under the radar... I suppose it reflects a little of my own growth and change these past three, four years or so. More importantly, it is about finding a voice. It is about saying things that a person believes to be important, and not simply to appeal, but to provoke, to support, to instigate, and to encourage; to inspire. It becomes a matter of spreading of faith, but not preaching, for what is being said deals not with matters of religion, but of matters of humanity and life itself.
Sometimes it is about seeing certain aspects of the world and realising that change is sorely needed. That alone is not enough, for if wishes were sugar, we would have long died of diabetes. It is about the willingness to take the effort that one sees as truly necessary towards catalysing that change. It is not an easy task, and at most times it may seem impossible, but we must never forget that the one thing we are well-known for is the process of change...its the defining trait of human history, and, for better or worse, it is the one thing that we remember best.
The more I think about it, the more it seems to make sense as to what I am trying to do with all the stuff that I put on this blog. Instigating Change...calling for change. Why? Well, I could quote a thousand different reasons, but the one that truly matters is, well, because I see something that is really not right somewhere. At least not to me. I can never pretend to think that what I believe to be right and wrong applies to everything and everyone; to do that itself would be very, VERY wrong. No, my values are the ones that apply from my eyes alone, and it could just as easily be wrong as it is right. However, as long as I see something that sees wrong to me, regardless of where I look at it from, then I must do what I can to call for change, if not for complete betterment, then at least for a slight improvement which might later bring on a greater change.
Lately, I cannot really think of anything much that has been disturbing me much that I would want to call for serious change or anything. To be honest, it has more to do with me than what has been going on out there in the world. I have had the most wonderful three weeks of my life (and also by far, one of the most tiring). Well, I cannot really put down the reasons for that over here, but suffice to say that it is one of the reasons for my being invisible on this blog for a long long time.

The Thing About
Random thoughts,
they are so natural,
yet so meaningless,
so unintellectual,
yet so priceless......



The thing about
random thoughts,
They come out sporadically,
dealing with matters trivial,
always incorrect grammatically,
leaving others so quizzical

Enjoy some photos...

I do not know how to be philosophical about myself. The following story explains me better than anything else I can think of. What I am trying to say is that I do not truly understand myself. I am learning more and more every day. Take what you will from this story. After all, who we are has a lot to do with how others view us and I am no different.

A man stands in a long line of people dressed in black. They stare off into space as they shuffle along. Their eyes rest deep within their sockets, nothing more than bottomless black pits. They walk with slumped shoulders and empty expressions, these fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, friends and enemies. The line goes on and on, never ending, never beginning.

From this line of the walking dead, a little girl dressed in black steps out. In her right hand she holds a withered rose with black petals. She wears a sorrowful mask to match the black of her dress, shoes and bangles. Her skin is deathly pale. She looks up and sees the man. The little girl walks towards him, away from her place in the line. As she approaches, her frown turns into a smile. Her dress seems a lighter shade now. Perhaps his eyes deceive him, but her outfit is changing colors, from black to white. Her shoes begin to shed their color as well, the black spots falling away to reveal a sparkling white underneath. Her pale skin begins to glow, as if a warm light had been ignited from within. The little girl continues to move towards him.

She stands before him and looks up with sparkling brown eyes, pure and hopeful. She lifts her hand and presents the rose, which is no longer dead and black but alive and crimson. The man gazes in wonder and accepts. The girl’s smile widens and she breaks into a soft, angelic laugh. She reaches for his arm and pulls him away from the line. The others see this and begin to wail, calling the man back with their awful cry. The man does not hear them. The girl leads him towards the unknown. She stops. Before his very eyes, she begins to dissipate in a fountain of colors. She evanesces towards the heavens, leaving a whisper in the man’s ears, ‘Be who you are’.

I will not pretend to understand this story. I wrote it down as I imagined it. My life’s quest is to find some sort of meaning. As mentioned earlier, I am learning a little more each and every day. I am the man in the story.

This is not the world I imagined…

Perhaps in a different time, in a different age, but not this one. Before me lies a wasteland, covered in lies and deception so it seems as if everything is perfect. It is not.

Rain falls from the skies, an open wound bleeding upon the ashes of civilization, lightning, silver cross striking into the heart of cities and infrastructure. Thunder heralds a change, a cleansing, a rebirth impending.

Platinum shards that light up the night sky thrill my soul, and though I fear them, I do not wish them to end. They are nature, they are the way, and they are the cycle. We will be part of it, we always have been. Our time will come. We have much to account for.

Who will stand up for what has been done? Who will shoulder the blame? Is there life out there, is there penance? Take and never give back, take without sharing, take what is of worth, burn the rest, leave ashes and smoke behind a trail of tears.

This is not the world I imagined…

Black are these days, crimson the nights. Where these voices coming from? Who’s tears and cries do I hear haunting my soul? What ghosts are these that remain in this desert of ashes? Are they my own, so deformed that I do not recognize myself? There is nothing here, only shells, shells of what was once life. Dreams are dark and visions of paradise distorted into terrors.
Who else can we look to but ourselves? Have brought our end upon us, the wrath of the cycle? The wheels are turning… we will be consumed, as we have been consuming. This is it. This is our end.

This is not the world I imagined…

Monsters

There are monsters in this world of ours. There are so many of them, with different faces, but equally terrifying. They make us scream in our sleep, in our waking moments, and every other moment.

The monsters live everywhere. They surround us, they poison us and they consume us. We are food to sate their hunger, their insatiable greed. What happens to us is none of their concern, we are nothing to them. They are everything; they are the Gods of our time, always seen but never realized, these monsters.

The monsters are invincible. They are indestructible. Their armor is impenetrable; their weapons unbreakable. The monsters wield their whips to keep us in line; keep us blind to their ways; keep us deaf to their dark secrets; keep us gagged from speaking out. Those of us who do stand up fall prey to their terrible wrath; punishment is never fast but slow and torturous. These monsters have no mercy.

There are monsters here. Monsters that carry weapons of great destruction. Monsters that have neither love nor compassion; they only have their insatiable hunger. They are empty within, filled by a void that can never be filled no matter how they try. The monsters will do anything to gain control and power. They will conquer and ruin; they will subjugate everything before them. Their will consume us, just as their hunger consumes them.

These monsters look just like us. They pretend to be one of us. They sound like us; talk like us, act like us, and change like us. The monsters live among us. They are the ones who rule us, who dictate our lives and keep us in line. The monsters feed us with their illusions and lies to fatten us up so they may consume us in the end. Their production lines are their means of imprisoning us; their media is their means of subjugating and controlling us, their products are the poison that corrupts us. Like a potent drug, we become addicted to their smoke and mirrors; without them we will fall and shatter.

The monsters are here. We do not scream. We are not afraid.

We are the monsters.

What Needs to Be Said, Should Be Said, Must Be Said, But is Yet to Be Said

Someone once said that in order to have a proper society, with an efficient government and a prosperous culture, we need huge amounts of social capital; we need trust, engagement and reciprocity. The name of that good man was Robert D. Putnam (Bowling Alone). Those three things need to exist in society for it, for democracy, to properly work; by properly work I mean that both the rights of people and the stability of the state are guaranteed. It is quite interesting to see how our Malaysian society measures up to these standards.
One of the first things we learn, growing up in this country, is that obedience is a virtue. We must not question or disregard authority. It is treacherous to do so. Now this is a problem. How can we practice both freedom and obedience at the same time? Is it not so that disobedience is one of the key characteristics of freedom? Is it not so that to be free means that one should not be forced to do and believe things that they do not want to? Which of these concepts do us Malaysians buy into; freedom or obedience? Which one do we, as human beings, buy into? Is there a difference between being Malaysian and being human? I ask this so that we do not confuse ourselves with illusions that might have been created to justify restrictions on freedom on the basis of us being Malaysian. We are all human beings, regardless of sex, race, religion, faith, gender, sexual orientation, class and caste. The same principles of rights and freedom should apply fairly across our species, not discriminately.
What strikes me as odd is that most of us do not seem to be aware of the fact that we have so many restrictions placed upon us. It strikes fear into me to see how passive we are as citizens, never engaging, never questioning, never participating, and never utilizing that defining trait of humanity; initiative. Our good people need to wake up and realize that they have a voice in this social system, a voice that can make a difference if they so choose. This is important, because without active engagement by all members of a society, social capital would be very low and the society (together with its inefficiently established institutions) will simply crumble into an oligarchy- a rigid machine where a few elitist individuals wield all the power and control over the rest of the society. A prime example of such a process is when a state that started out as a democratic one, deteriorates into an authoritarian government that decides everything without consulting the public, punishes dissenters, and rules with an iron fist. It concerns me to think that Malaysia might end up like that.
I suppose that there is really nothing new in this discussion. It has been talked about before, and most of do realize that we live in a not-so-free-environment and that democracy in Malaysia is just a pretense, for most part. However, realizing and acknowledging it is not going to cure the problem; not unless we start finding ways to address the issue and try to pro-actively deal with it. This is near-impossible, because, as I said earlier, Initiative is a very hard word to find in our Malaysian vocabularies.
Trust. Now this is the word we know well, but for all the wrong reasons. We are not known for having faith in others, are we? Well, not in my eyes, anyway. We are rather distrustful in many ways; partners always being suspicious of their significant others, individuals being constantly afraid of being backstabbed by friends, etc. It goes to the point that some of us do not even trust our own neighbors. Heck, some of us do not even KNOW our neighbors. This is not particularly good by any stretch of the imagination because such high levels of distrust often leads to an easily disintegrated unit of society, as no one has any faith in the system and will bolt at the first sign of trouble, abandoning everyone else. I know that that is very bluntly put, but the correlation with reality in our society is plain to see.
How about reciprocity? Do we, Malaysians, care about each other enough to want to build a stable, progressive and efficient environment for each other? Strangely enough, deep down, I think we all do, despite our pettiness. We want a place where our children can grow up without pressure, risk and danger; we want it collectively. No one really actually wants bad things to happen to others, but it is because of the way we have been conditioned (ruthless, cut-throat competition) that we care less and less about others and more about ourselves.
Hence, I think it is safe to say that we are not a particularly well-developed society. We do have some big problems, and dealing with these should be a priority one issue, because these are issues that will influence the future of our society. It is truly depressing that not many of us even want to acknowledge the matter.