Chicago

So on the 26th of December 2007, I arrived at Chicago, Illinois, for the second time in my life, and this time to spend more than just a couple of hours with old friends.

This time, it was to spend an entire day seeing what this great city was all about. And, of course, go nuts with my little Sony Ericsson Walkman/phone/camera/beauty.

Chicago is regarded as the architectural capital of the world for good reason, having seen it up close and personal now. It is a city like any other, full of tall skyscrapers, people, traffic, etc, but what makes it particularly distinct is the fact that it is one of the very few cities where the buildings and monuments actually seem to fit in with each other so well that the skyline does not seem like some weird blotted, jagged monstrosity. There is harmony to the rich, somewhat classical, elaborate architectural styles of the Wrigley Building, the Sear's Tower, John Hancock, and even that strange 'Bean' at Millenium Park. Everything seems to fit well, and does not feel out of place, which is what is so impressive about this city.

Walking down Magnificient Mile (Michigan Avenue) is a pretty amazing feeling... for Malaysians, this is very much the Jalan Sultan Ismail or Jalan Ampang of Chicago, except that it is very straight, and filled with rows and rows of buildings that range from endless shopping malls, bookstores, universities, libraries, radio broadcast centres, Newspapers (Chicago Tribune) and a whole bunch of others.














































The bridge over the river leading to Michigan Lake is something special too. One could just meander around from one end to the other, losing yourself in the sights and taking the most glorious photos of people, buildings, and whatever else... it helped a lot that the weather was simply pristine, almost summer-like in quality.


Going to Navy Pier, on the shores of Lake Michigan, I finally realised where the idea for Eye of Malaysia came from. The huge ferris wheel at this beautiful pier is something to behold, and it gives this spectacular view of the city skyline and the lake itself, that words simply do not do it justice that I will just have to let the photos do all the talking.

I was a little worried that a day will not be enough to see this city, but I was both wrong and right. A day was more than enough to come to terms with just how great a city Chicago really is, even though there is still so much to see and do.


The fact that Michigan Avenue itself lies at the very heart of the city and there is so much that can be experienced in the short, two mile walk, is a testament to the ingenuity of town planning. It is something that modern cities that are hell bent of putting up as many buildings as possible in every conceivable angle would do well to learn from.

Finally, having the extra time, I even got to sample a small bit of the nightlife in Chicago, by visiting this little live music bar called the Underground Wonder Bar. I have no photos of this place, though...it was too dark.

Till my next post, then... hope you like the new design.

Burn

I went to an Evanescence concert this week, and I managed to get right up at the very front... the pictures explains it all.... it was AWESOME.

Beyond Stupidity

Ok, First off, I am NOT a radical or any sort of political activist. I do my best to avoid stuff like that, unless it is 1) incredibly important or 2) incredibly funny. This would be number 2.

This is a quote by Dato Samy Vellu, the head of the Malaysian Indian Congress (MIC), while talking about a recent demonstration held by members of the community in Malaysia. It is a statement about the Malaysian Government being made by one of its primary leaders.

“They must follow the law. In this country, we are very open ... I have never seen a government which is more open." (the Star Publications)

I love Malaysia, it's my home and its incredibly beautiful to me... but COME ON!! I'm laughing so hard my sides are splitting. Enough said.

"And I know, you're a part of me
And it's your song that sets me free
I sing it while I feel I can't hold on
I sing tonight cause it comforts me"
- Alter Bridge

The Burden

Reacting to discrimination determines the eventual consequences and effects on both the perpetrator and the victim. The manner in which they confront the reality of the situation determines whatever happens after that. Dealing with incidents of discrimination is a very taxing effort which places a terrible burden on victims. They often feel angry, frustrated and helpless, especially when the authorities are involved-despite being members of the middle-class. Even when those discriminated against are members of the middle-class with more resources to handle the situation, it does not change the fact that it is still an added and unnecessary burden.

The temptation to react in certain ways when faced with discrimination is very much dependent on the location, time and nature of the act itself. However, it is certain that the victims almost always feel fear and anger. The urge to retaliate, to not stand still, can be overwhelming, almost to the point that we feel obligated to teach our oppressors a lesson. We question their actions, we force them to look at the pain they are causing us, and we demand for change. It certainly feels like the right thing to do, but one should never forget the tremendous effort needed to accomplish this. Victims of discrimination have to expend far greater energy in dealing with discrimination compared to their white counter-parts from the same economic class. This is despite the fact that racism is the problem of the racist.

I am often asked about my feelings and reactions whenever I am faced with discrimination, which is sadly a frequent reality. As is the case for most people, anger is the one of the first emotions that comes to mind, but I no longer believe that it is the appropriate one. Racism and bigotry is the problem of the person who practices it, not the victim themselves, because it is beyond the latter’s control. We can spout oaths, curses and threaten lawsuits, but the only way things will improve is if the person who discriminates realizes what they are doing and makes an attempt to deal with their racist beliefs. It does not make sense that the victims should sacrifice so much to try and ‘educate’ those who discriminate against them; it is neither the victim’s obligation nor responsibility.

However, by not reacting, the chances of perpetuating discrimination only increase. Some interviewees explained how they had used their middle-class resources to initiate some form of change, in restaurants and other public spheres. It is important to note that while victims can help make a change, they should never be thought of as the primary instigators. Only a racist can deal with their racism, and it is their prerogative to make an effort to do so. Victims should try to get rid of the burden of anger, as hard as it might be, and accept that it is someone else’s problem, not theirs. They can help that person overcome their prejudice, but should not have to carry that awful burden of frustration and anger.

Blonde

Ah, you crazy hypocrite,

I can tell by the way you look at him,

You know there’s nothing more obvious,

then you pretending to listen to him,

Not hearing a word he says

What’s on your mind, I wonder?

Some pondering unrelated to nothing,

Nothing of the sort you care to tell,

You wishing he’d say something else,

Instead of the things he says

Oh, you crazy hypocrite,

Come on, girl, try and listen,

Or just speak your mind and be done with it,

He isn’t going to know till you do,

You don’t want this to go to waste

But now you’re staring off into space,

Too nervous to do what you know you have to,

Oh honey, you’ll end up such a train wreck,

You sure you’re ready for the sleepless nights?

Come on, girl, just tell him…

Why does it seem like the most special people in our lives always leave so fast?
I miss each and every moment that I spent in their arms, hearing their voices speak and whisper in my ear, always bringing me the greatest of joys, that I can feel content and complete.
Yet it never lasts.
I try to hold on with all my might to every tiny piece of them that I can lay my hands on, wishing I could simply hold on to them and never let go.

If I close my eyes, when I am alone, I can feel you with me, touching me, telling me I am not alone.
Who would run with me? Who would pick me up and shelter me from the rain, stay with me when I am at my worst? Who would make sense of this life that does not seem right?

Well Enough Alone - Chevelle

Here's some musical entertainment by a long-time favorite of mine, Chevelle. I'm still working on something to write about.

Memoria
Waking up every morning,
against my will, against my body,
trudging down a road that never ends,
used to be so much easier,
when I would wake every morning,
knowing you would be there

Within this empty shell of a life,
within this endless walk in the dark,
and with all this meaningless meandering,
all of it never seemed to matter,
I would have walked though hell,
knowing you were in my life

Now no matter how bright,
the sun chooses to shine,
the darkness simply will not lift,
except for those little moments,
those gentle, precious moments,
when memory brings you back to me

Dedicated to Rhys Johns, and all those who have lost loved ones...

The Fire

Am I so different,

From the man standing next to me?

With the pale skin and the blue eyes,

Am I so different?

That we cannot speak of it,

That I cannot see through his eyes

Does it make him hate me?

For being so different from what he is,

For not fitting in with the familiar,

Does it make him shun me?

By not letting me in,

By casting me out upon the fire

The fire that burns my dark skin,

Are the flames that fuel my spirit,

Your hatred is only disguised fear,

For underneath burning flesh and skin,

Lies the truth that will condemn,

That I bleed the same as you do…

The Staley Illini Grove, University of Illinois at Urbana Champaign

I am of the night,

Not of darkness but of starlight

Silver streams crystal bright

Sheds down brilliant light

Wind echoes her haunting voice

Memory and dream awash inside

History and future and more besides

Only here, only now, nothing more

Speak, dear Mother, calm my soul,

Quell this raging fear of loneliness

Embrace me with your solitude

Let me into your arms again

The protector, the guardian,

Defender of faith and love,

Solid as stone, gentle as wind,

Never fading, never alone

After twenty two years in Malaysia, I am about to leave for a long spell. Interestingly enough, Malaysia is about to turn 50.  After 15 years of local education, I am off to a prestigious American university. For most of us, that would indicate individual talent and effort, but not for me. A little bit of individual effort, maybe, but, much more than anything else, it is luck and opportunity; luck and opportunity that came strolling down my way because this is Malaysia.

A lot of people get the same opportunities in their own countries.  Nevertheless, there are so many others for whom basic education is a faraway dream; not through any fault of their own, but simply because they were born in the wrong place at the wrong time. Success can be attained through surviving severe hardship, but the roles of chance and luck can never be downplayed. Who we are is more a consequence of our environment than any individual talent. This is not to say that talent is unimportant. It is to remind us to always be aware and grateful for the opportunities we are given.

For much of my life, I have been trying to find my own feet. It is a long search for direction, learning and redefining values, and trying to make sense of everything; similar to what we are going through as a nation. We are young and still naïve, making up for what we lack in true humanitarian heritage with a willingness to grow. Finding one’s feet in an overwhelming world depends on a person’s capacity for introspection and openness to life’s lessons. For so long we have been looking for a unique sense of identity and purpose, for something more than just a patched-up, sanitized, put-together version of other people’s dreams. Our mistakes are plentiful, but they are the best ways of gaining maturity, IF we are willing to learn from them.

It is easy to imagine a certain kind of future or a certain kind of ideality and call it a Vision. As wonderful as that vision might be, it is still nothing more than someone else’s dream. It is what others regard as an ideal world. Its validity aside, we should instead try and find our own purpose, direction and vision. Not just as a nation, but as individuals, regardless of gender, race, age or class. Just as an individual discovers that true ambition is something that only experience, introspection and wisdom can reveal, so should we, as a society, realize that only by taking a deep look at ourselves and questioning every single value that we hold dear can we truly find a vision that is worth following; not one forged by the wonders of business and technology, but one formed by the benevolence of our sentience and our collective conscience.

My life is about trying to find my own feet and following them. The question now is can we help our nation find its feet.

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Addicted

If a person could somehow find a way to go back in time to various points in her life, and see if there were ways to do things differently, it would be, well, to put it ridiculously obviously, incredible.

While it is somewhat comforting to live in the knowledge that it is through mistakes that we learn best, I still cannot ignore the longing to retrace my steps back to certain points in my life when I had made some really bad decisions and ..errmm.. unmade them. You would probably be laughing thinking that I should grow up and face my decisions, but can you honestly tell me that you have not wished the same with your own life?

No, the simple truth is that we have that longing. There are a lot of things I have done that I wish I had not. Mistakes, inaction, indecision, bad calls, bad judgments...I can safely say that most of those were due to ignorance on my part. I suppose, to a certain extent, that those mistakes are forgivable, because I simply did not know better than. After all, hindsight is a ridiculous thing to be harping about. All that a person can do given this situation is hope to learn something new about the way things work, and about themselves as well.

There are other mistakes that I cannot pin on ignorance. Mistakes that are much more harder to swallow. it is something more akin to addiction; you know that it is wrong, but you still do it anyway. An addiction is never an excuse, it is an act that we are completely aware of... we know the damage it causes, the heavy price it carries. Our conscience bears the guilt and that guilt will continue getting heavier the longer we go on.

Those are the kind of mistakes that can really get to a person, drive them to extreme measures.

We would love to think that those are the kind of problems that other people might have. Alcohol addiction is something the fat dude next door who beats his kid does, or the lady who is almost always drunk and sleeps around. Smoking is something that ass of a boss does all day in his office, when he is not busy pushing others around. Drugs? Well, those would be the people that you want your kids to stay away from, because, after all, your angelic kids would never run with that crowd, would they?

Here is an unfortunate reality check; we all have that problem. Whether we like it or not, we each have that tendency to falter to a particular urge that we might call an addiction. It really could be anything, from something as innocent as ice-cream at night to something not so innocent such as porn addiction. It could even be something insidious, such as the tendency to screw up relationships for inexplicable reasons. We just cannot help but say things that would make our loved ones angry. It sounds weird, but it happens. Why else would people have affairs simply so they can come back and pick fights?

I have been down this road a little too many times for my liking. Doing things that I know I should not be doing, especially involving others. Sometimes, I wonder how it is that I am capable of such acts, despite the fact that I am totally aware of what the consequences are. Socrates would probably say that it might be something hidden deep inside me that I am not willing to face yet, even though I should... repressed memories, so to speak. That would be the reason that many people suggest to explain why we do these things. Try as I might,I have not been able to pin down anything in my past that could explain things or shed some light.

As with any addiction, especially those that we are aware of, the only way is to somehow drag ourselves to say no. Sadly, there is no shortcut, or noble, introspective solution here... because we already know what is there to be known. We already know it is wrong. We just have to stop doing it. I am trying as hard as I can, and so far, it has been a decent effort. But so far is the operational concept. it is definitely something that needs a lot of effort and will-power.

However, the key is very clear. It might not be easy to overcome an addiction, but at the very core of it, we MUST WANT to overcome it. We know that something is wrong, we know that we should try to do the right thing, but the only thing that matters is that we want to do the right thing. Only then can we even start working on our issues. That is the first step.. and, as cliche as it may sound, that first step is always the most important and the hardest.

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Sell-Outs

Sometimes, it is important to realize that things that need to be said must be said. It is not simply enough to want success and respect; these are things that need to be earned. If a writer wants her book to be important, she has to first be honest with herself and be certain with her intent and motivations. A musician who seeks to compose a meaningful song has to search within himself and find what he seeks, and not make excuses of lack of time or acceptance. Anyone who seeks to make a difference has to first and foremost come to terms with themselves.

Only then can whatever pursuit they embark upon truly have an impact.

Too much of or time and effort is wasted because of needless, unnecessary and ultimately harmful compromises. Compromise is only useful in relationships; even more so in politics. Not while doing what we love. An author cannot make compromises with her material; it is her prerogative to say what she wishes to say, exactly how she would like it to be said. A reporter has a duty and responsibility to report the truth; all else comes second. If a message is there to be said, and whoever is aware of that message feels that it should be passed on, then it is important that they do so, without being pressured into silence or censorship, regardless of the nature of the content.

A message may be offensive, obscene, prejudiced or malicious; but it is only a message. The important thing is our own maturity when such messages are made available. The person who exposes such information actively took the decision to do so, perhaps feeling it was their responsibility to do so. They made that choice and they must be mature enough to take responsibility for it. Just the same, for the rest of us who receive that information, we should be mature enough to judge that message for what it is, and not for anything else. By doing so, we should always look at ourselves, if that message does indeed make us feel offended or shocked; not just be quick to blame the source of the message.

If someone were to write a book on the importance of homosexuality, and publish it for the general public, they should not be harassed for it. Most of us know that it would be wrong to judge that person and punish them; most of us know that it is within their rights and that what that author is doing might actually help certain groups of people. We know this. We also know that knowledge alone is not sufficient, because that kind of unfair judgment and punishment still happens. That kind of tyrannical silencing still happens.

We do hide behind the supposed ‘needs’ of society. We should not say or do certain things that might disturb the peace, or ‘upset the natives’ so to speak. The flaw here is plain to see; the assumption is that the natives are backward and immature, that even the slightest mention of anything controversial would give rise to trouble. Whether or not this is true is not the point; the fact that by making this assumption in the first place actually perpetuates the situation. The ‘common folk’ WILL become immature and stupid an ignorant if we are constantly sheltered and protected. There is no need to point out just how shallow a lot of us have become because of this.

Why do our musicians beg for support and fail to get any substantial audience? Why do our authors fail to reach any relevant public attention? Is it because they are not good enough? Or is it because that they simply are not being allowed to say what they need to be saying? Perhaps it is a bit of both. We accuse people of selling out whenever they seem to be simply pandering to the masses and not being honest. If this is the case, than it seems we are nothing more than a society full of sell-outs; never being brave enough to say what we KNOW should be said, yet still desperate for attention and success.

We should never blame authority for being suppressed or silence. It is our own fault.

Steadfast Tin Soldier

This is a very old children's tale, by Hans Christian Andersen. But it

is not only meant for children alone; it is powerful and meaningful. I

remembered this story while taking a walk by myself one late evening.



THERE were once five and twenty tin soldiers, all brothers,for they were the offspring of the same old tin spoon. Each man shouldered his gun, kept his eyes well to the front, and wore the smartest red and blue uniform imaginable. The first thing they heard in their new world, when the lid was taken off the box, was a little boy clapping his hands and crying, “Soldiers, soldiers!” It was his birthday, and they had just been given to him, so he lost no time in setting them up on the table. All the soldiers were exactly alike with one exception, and he differed from the rest in having only one leg. For he was made last, and there was not quite enough tin left to finish him. However, he stood just as well on his one leg as the

others on two; in fact he is the very one who is to become famous. On the table

where they were being set up were many other toys; but the chief thing which

caught the eye was a delightful paper castle. You could see through the tiny

windows, right into the rooms. Outside there were some little trees surrounding

a small mirror, representing a lake, whose surface reflected the waxen swans

which were swimming about on it. It was altogether charming, but the prettiest

thing of all was a little maiden standing at the open door of the castle. She,

too, was cut out of paper, but she wore a dress of the lightest gauze, with a

dainty little blue ribbon over her shoulders, by way of a scarf, set off by a

brilliant spangle as big as her whole face. The little maid was stretching out

both arms, for she was a dancer, and in the dance, one of her legs was raised

so high into the air that the tin soldier could see absolutely nothing of it,

and supposed that she, like himself, had but one leg. “That would be the very wife for me!” he thought; “but she is much too grand; she lives in a palace, while I only have a box, and then there are five and twenty of us to share it. No, that would be no place for her! but I must try to make her acquaintance!” Then he lay down full length behind a snuffbox which stood on the table. From that point he could have a good look at the little lady, who continued to stand on one leg without losing her balance. Late in the evening the other soldiers were put into their box, and the people of the house went to bed. Now was the time for the toys to play; they amused themselves with paying visits, fighting battles, and giving balls. The tin soldiers rustled about in their box, for they wanted to join the games, but they could not get the lid off. The nutcrackers turned somersaults, and the pencil scribbled nonsense on the slate. There was such a noise that the canary woke up and joined in, but his remarks were in verse. The only two who did not move were the tin soldier and the little dancer. She stood as stiff as ever on tiptoe, with her arms spread out; he was equally firm on his one leg, and he

did not take his eyes off her for a moment. Then the clock struck twelve, when pop! up flew the lid of the snuffbox, but there was no snuff in it, no! There was a little black goblin, a sort of Jack-in-the-box.; “Tin soldier!” said the goblin, “have the goodness to keep your eyes to yourself.” ; But the tin soldier feigned not to hear.; “Ah! you just wait till to-morrow,” said the goblin; In the morning, when the children got up, they put the tin soldier on the window frame, and whether it was caused by the goblin or by a puff of wind, I do not know, but all at once the window burst open, and the soldier fell head foremost from the third story. It was a terrific descent, and he landed at last, with his leg in the air, and rested on his cap, with his bayonet fixed between two paving stones. The maidservant and the little boy ran down at once to look for him;but although they almost trod on him, they could not see him. Had the soldier only called, “here I am,” they would easily have found him; but he did not think it proper to shout when he was in uniform. Presently it began to rain, and the drops fell faster and faster,

till there was a regular torrent. When it was over, two street boys came along. “Look out!” said one; “there is a tin soldier! He shall go for a sail.” So they made a boat out of a newspaper and put the soldier into the middle of it, and he sailed away down the gutter; both boys ran alongside, clapping their hands. Good heavens! what waves there were in the gutter, and what a current, but then it certainly had rained cats and dogs. The paper boat danced up and down, and now and then whirled round and round. A shudder ran through the tin soldier, but he remained undaunted, and did not move a muscle, only looked straight before him with his gun shouldered. All at once the boat drifted under a long wooden tunnel, and it became as dark as it was in his box.; “Where on earth am I going to

now!” thought he. “Well, well, it is all the fault of that goblin! Oh, if only

the little maiden were with me in the boat, it might be twice as dark for all I

should care!” At this moment a big water rat, who lived in the tunnel, came up. “Have you a pass?” asked the rat. “Hand up your pass!” The tin soldier did not speak, but clung still tighter to his gun.

The boat rushed on, the rat close behind. Phew, how he gnashed his teeth and

shouted to the bits of stick and straw. “Stop him, stop him, he hasn’t paid his

toll! he hasn’t shown his pass!” But the current grew stronger and stronger; the tin soldier could already see daylight before him at the end of the tunnel; but he also heard a roaring sound, fit to strike terror to the bravest heart. Just imagine! Where the tunnel ended the stream rushed straight into the big canal. That would be just as dangerous for him as it would be for us to shoot a great rapid.  He was so near the end now that it was impossible to stop. The boat dashed out; the poor tin soldier held himself as stiff as he could; no one should say of him that he even winced.  The boat swirled round three or four times, and filled with water to the edge; it must sink. The tin soldier stood up to his neck in water, and the boat sank deeper and deeper. The paper became limper and limper, and at last the water went over his head—then he thought of the pretty little dancer, whom he was never to see again, and this refrain rang in his ears:—



“Onward! Onward! Soldier!



For death thou canst not shun.”



 At last the paper gave way entirely and the soldier fell through—but at the same moment he was swallowed by a big fish.Oh! how dark it was inside that fish; it was worse than being in the tunnel, even; and then it was so narrow! But the tin soldier was as dauntless as ever, and lay full length, shouldering his gun. The fish rushed about and made the most frantic movements. At last it became quite quiet, and after a time, a flash like lightning pierced it. The soldier was once more in the broad daylight, and some one called out loudly, “a tin soldier!” The fish had been caught, taken to market, sold, and brought into the kitchen, where the cook cut it open with a large knife. She took the soldier up by the waist, with two fingers, and carried him into the parlor, where every one wanted to see the wonderful man, who had traveled about in the stomach of a fish; but the tin soldier was not at all proud. They set him up on the table, and, wonder of wonders! he found himself in the very same room that he had been in before. He saw the very same children, and the toys were still standing on the table, as well as the beautiful castle with the pretty little dancer. She still stood on one leg, and held the other up in the air. You see she also was unbending. The soldier was so much moved that he was ready to shed tears of tin, but that would not have been fitting. He looked at her, and she looked at him, but they said never a word. At this moment one of the little boys took up the tin soldier, and without rime or reason, threw him into the fire. No doubt the little goblin in the snuffbox was to blame for that. The tin soldier stood there, lighted up by the flame, and in the most horrible heat; but whether it was the heat of the real fire, or the warmth of his feelings, he did not know. He had lost all his gay color; it might have been from his perilous journey, or it might have been from grief, who can tell? He looked at the little maiden, and she looked at him; and he felt that he was melting away, but he still managed to keep himself erect, shouldering his gun bravely.; A door was suddenly opened, the draught caught the little dancer and she fluttered like a sylph, straight into the fire, to the soldier, blazed up and

was gone!; By this time the soldier was reduced to a mere lump, and when the maid took away the ashes next morning she found him, in the shape of a small tin heart. All that was left of the dancer was her spangle, and that was burnt as black as a coal.





Taken, with great thanks and appreciation, from http://www.bartleby.com/195/9.html

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Time and Tide

Saltwater in the breeze,
Sweeps across his face, soft kiss on his temple
None too gentle, all so gentle…

Washes it all away, it does
Leaves a stain, within reach of a memory,
Pushing him into his reverie…

And you can almost see
Almost reach
To touch and feel
Where the sun sets and he wakes up
Greet the day

Bitter tinge of sorrow,
Of leaving the ones who gave life to him,
What does it mean to him?

Trying not to drown inside,
Ship sails across open water, hopes laid bare
He bids farewell

Leave him (let him go)
Time takes him (where he needs to go)
Let him (will he go?)
Time take him

Dreams Die Here Cold

This is not a question anymore,
I cannot change
Don't think I want to anymore,
not in this dream

When nothing hurts and nothing kills,
I cannot change,
Nothing kills this hurt inside me,
consuming into bliss

Stand so fast now
Undying,
Can't falter now,
please show me how...

Don't remember where I am,
Not from where I came,
See through my eyes, dear,
it isn't the same

Drams lie cold now,
You're crying
I don't know how (to go home now)...

If you can just take a moment and look into this guy's eyes and really try to focus. just for a bit. Focus really hard...

Its almost a natural state for us, to not be what we really are. It is like a name. Nobody wants to their real names to be known. Not really. It is almost as if knowing somebody's real, true, name gives us power over them. We can then tell them to our every bidding. Why? I don't fucking know, now do I? it is just a little bit weird, but hey, goes hand in hand with the rest of the shit we call human nature, doesn't it?

We are sneaky little shits of the highest order. If there is way to hide even the most simplest and harmless of truths, we would do it in the blink of an eye. Even from our own mothers. Come to think of it, we seem to enjoy it. We like deceptions, don't we?

I imagine it is something of a process. Laborious, but not altogether lacking in excitement. In fact, it is quite exciting indeed. Literally we first begin by taking imaginary slices of hard bark and gluing it on the surface of our bodies, preferably with long-lasting, firm adhesives. Then we literally start painting ourselves in whatever manner we feel like. Do we like to be garish and bright? Or perhaps just this shade of gray and plain? In any case, that is who we are, artistes in our own rights. Brilliant at covering up what is really there. Or maybe covering up the truth that there really nothing underneath. Either way.

At this point, you might be expecting me to go and and talk about how this is not a good thing, but heck, for a change, I won't. It's too fucking stupid. Seriously. We like to lie too much, for no apparent reason, and we like to use the most idiotically convoluted ways of covering up reality. The stupidity of it speaks for itself. You make your own call on this one.

Stars

silver light,
pierces the night,
comes the new divine,
and for all the waiting,
it lifts away the fallen time

Grace of the night,
where falling stars shine,
fingertips raised,
a gentle heart that cries,
for the dying light

in her tiny hands,
life resides within light,
reaches out
touching the sky,
sets the stars alight

Marriage is over-rated. Seriously over-rated. We give it way too much importance, without even stopping to think about what it actually is. There is a very obvious reason why the institution of marriage is crumbling down these days, in the face of gender empowerment. Marriage is a tool of patriarchy; it is one of the last remaining bastions of an ancient obsolete and utterly useless tradition.

Yet, the majority of human beings in the world hold tight to the concept and practice of marriage as if it is the most important event in one's life. This regardless of the person's gender. Even women (or maybe even more so than men) give marriage a sanctity that it really does not deserve. Of course, more often than not, these same people are the ones who hold firm to the idea that one particular gender is superior than the other. There are still people who even believe in celibacy till their wedding days. Never mind that. What is crucial at this point is for us to try and objectively study the whole idea of marriage for what it really is.

The first thing to note, and probably most importantly, is that marriage a purely human construct. An institution that was put in place for a particular purpose, a long long time ago. Essentially, it was our way of telling others that the couple in question are somehow bonded to each other in an extra-social manner. It is a glorified public announcement that a woman now belongs to a particular man. Fidelity, although outwardly expected of both the husband and the wife, is more forcibly applicable upon the wife, in many societies across time and place. The institution, like many others, is evidence of the rise of the materialistic and property-based societies; groups of people living together, requiring a sense of order and more importantly control over the rest. Marriage is a perfect way of sealing deals, setting up a home, creating new power relationships, etc. back then, wives were treated like property; marriage is a process 'officiating' the ownership of the wife.

Being Indian and having grown up among typically Indian families has given me enough evidence that marriage is more often than not an enforcement of patriarchy. The gender inequality is still strong and rampant in many Indian families, even in Malaysia, even in a city like Kuala Lumpur. It is strangely ironic that some of the most successful women in my extended family are the ones who are as yet unmarried, either out of reluctance or simple disregard. Such women are vilified as being incomplete, shames to their parents, etc, despite the fact that they are mostly highly educated, self-sufficient and independent (that's a tad repetitive, ain't it?).

When we look at societies where there are significant advancements in terms of empowerment and gender equality, we find that the institution of marriage is almost broken down completely. It is not an obvious process; what we do notice is the increased occurrence of couples who prefer to stay unmarried and the exponentially increasing divorce rate. Divorce rates are much higher in countries where women are more liberated. Coincidence? You decide.

Marriage is ridiculous. It is childish. It is demeaning and totally useless. Only people who need to prove their false power and control seek it. Either that or women who have little girl fantasies about wedding parties (now that was indeed a very mean and sexist thing to say, but I feel it might help make us re-think our perceptions of the whole idea of marriage). If two people, any two mature adults who have enough wisdom, want to be together, they do not need to put it down on a paper or make a public announcement that they are officially married. They can do so, no problem there, but as a celebration, and not as a contract of bondage. The meaning of marriage should change, its importance needs to be diminished for it to mean anything good. In the context of true human relationships, it should mean nothing more than a name.

A Different Kind of Friend

If you need me,

Whenever you think of me,

Think of me as your friend,

Even if it may not seem as obvious,

Even when it seems so different

I may not be the friend,

That gives you utmost joy,

But I will be there,

When you need me the most,

I’ll be your pillar

I may not be the life of the party,

May not be sky and the birds and the wind,

But I will be the ground under your feet,

The grass you lay upon,

I’ll be your shelter

I may not be the one

who brings you heaven and paradise,

but I will be the one

to walk through hell for you,

I’ll be your guardian angel

In darkness you will find me,

I’ll be the hand that will reach you,

And lead the way,

Through that very shadow of death

So you may live on,

My friend…

CASSIE...

This is an interesting piece by Flyleaf, a band that I have mentioned before. It is a song called Cassie, which is roughly about a girl involved in the Columbine incident. Screams of emo, one might think, but it is actually a surprisingly subtle look at the kind of values and moral codes and thoughts that might have gone through a person's mind to determine the courses of action that they take. Mosley's voice in this acoustic version is just as powerful as the original.

-Love is when you realise that you are not the centre of the universe; someone else is-

We fight, we bicker, we hold each other, we scream at each other- sometimes we cannot stand one another, sometimes we wonder how we might survive without each other. Someone said that you like someone for their strengths, but you love them for their flaws. Thinking about it, it does seem to make sense. That is what truly caring for someone is like. It is when the one we love are at their worst that we discover how deep our feelings for them go. We are proud and happy for them during the good times, but during the bad times, when they reveal sides that are normally kept hidden, do we discover our own truths.

I have learned, throughout my life, that it is very much possible to love yet absolutely not be able to stand a person. It is a strange combination indeed, but then again, no more stranger than everything else. It is possible to really love someone and want to spend every living moment with them. Sometimes they are the same person. Such a person could be so different from us to the point that we might never be able to accept their ways of thinking and their actions. We might hate their guts, but at the very same time, those are the very things that we love most, because they are things that we ourselves lack and somewhere deep inside, long for.

It is the only explanation i can think of to explain why it is possible for us to dislike and love someone at the same time. After a certain point, we probably need to grow up and start developing an understanding of why it is so, otherwise we might becoming really miserable and troubled. The essence of a conflicted relationship which affects both parties yet both are terrified of letting go. It becomes an addiction, and sooner or later it will end in tragedy for one or both. its true, as wonderful as love can be, it is often blind to many things, especially if the person themselves are immature and naive. Love is such that it is pure, and does not take into account anything else; any one is capable of love, young, old, purple, whatever, but being in love is not enough to ultimately nurture a relationship.

In many was, being in love is just the first step of something much bigger. Although, to be perfectly honest, love is the most important thing. It is like going on a really long and difficult journey; the most important thing is that first step. Nothing else matters. Love is that first step, the catalyst, the reason. It would be a long and difficult journey, make no mistake, because otherwise it would simply not be worth anything. Some lessons can only be learned by living them.

A lot of maturity is needed in order to deal with being in a difficult relationship. Family members are the perfect examples. Sometimes, even siblings can really be total opposites, and might not be able to even stand within talking distance of each other without trying to kill each other. Parents who seem to fight non-stop are another example. Family is family, and for most of us, no matter how difficult it gets, we can never imagine being without our families, although sometimes we might wish that we could just run away or disappear.

Is there a good way to handle difficult relationships? I do not know. I do not even know what a good way means. I do know this, though. It takes maturity to not let it collapse completely and come crashing down. The most important thing is understanding the other person as well as we possibly can. On the surface, it might seem simple, but to truly understand somebody, it takes a lot of time, effort and patience. Even if a person is really different from us, we can still learn to understand them for who they are. We understand that they are different, we understand how they are different, and we understand why they are different, and having that knowledge we can then proceed to see how they are really not at all different from ourselves. paradoxes, you might say, but that is what I have learned so far. I am afraid it is not something that can be explained with words. One really needs to learn it on their own.

Maybe with such knowledge, we might then start to come to terms with the relationship. The problems and the conflicts always seem to start with one thing; unfulfilled expectations. This leads to dissatisfaction and so on. Expectations are very dangerous things, they are like poison in a relationship. When people are different from us, it would be very wrong to place our own expectations and values upon them. We would do it anyway, because we love them and we want what is best for them. This is where being in love is no longer the most important ingredient. Our intentions may be good, but we need to always have the maturity and awareness to realise that our ways may not always be best, just like a parent who has to learn to let go of their offspring at some point so they may forge their own path through life. We need to be careful with whatever expectations that we place on others, especially on loved ones. it is done subconsciously sometimes, which makes it even more dangerous, hence the need to be extra aware and cautious. We need to try as hard as we can to not judge them by our own standards.

There are times when we really want to help that person, because they seem to be in such trouble that we simply have to get involved and try to do something. Holding back that urge can be just as difficult. We would love someone so much that we would want to try and change them, and if we somehow succeed, then we realise that they are no longer the same person that we used to love. People change, that is inevitable, but it is important that they change on their own terms, that they learn their own lessons, rather than us putting them into molds and forcing them to fit in. Learning to step back and giving space is a very important part of caring for someone. The important thing is not smothering them, but being there when we are really needed.

Sometimes, I can recall it like a vision. It is always that face. That expression. I can remember it so clearly, so vividly, as if it were another facet of reality. It is substantial, even if it exists only in my mind. Like wisps of smoke that can be barely perceptible at times and purely solid from afar. If I reach out, and try to touch the skin, it is there, and I can feel it.

I am so sure of it.

It makes me afraid not knowing what it might mean. Then again, if there were any meanings at all, then it would have to be something that will reveal itself in time. At least, so I hope. Is that all there is then? Just a long wait for something I am not certain would even occur. It does feel right, I will admit. More right than anything else in this life, for that matter. Some part of me knows that this is the only thing that matters, in my life, for it will define and set me upon a path that only we can walk. Almost as if it is a trigger that would spark a chain of events into motion, and to which no conclusion is foreseeable as of yet. The chain of events, the sequence of tragedies, perhaps, have a sense of inevitability about them; pre-ordained some might say, though I am not certain if I buy into such ponderings. Ironic indeed that a person of utmost faith such as me, would be in denial of fate and destiny. No, whatever else I might believe, it is my solemn faith that freewill is our nature, not just as living beings, but as sentient self-aware entities. Destiny seems pointless.

Yet the vision becomes a harbinger of destiny and fate; prophetic in many ways. Something is about to happen, someone is about to take a step or make a decision that will have been determined by forces beyond comprehension and knowledge. The face I envision speaks of inevitability, speaks of the choices that are bound to be made, though what they are for certain I have no idea. They are there, nonetheless, haunting the steps of being.

Upon Stained Shallows

I have lost count of the times when I have mentioned how important it is for us to examine ourselves. Repeatedly. The only reason I do it is because we rarely do so. It is so frustrating to see how we almost always tend to look for answers from others. There is this frightening ease with which we point our fingers accusingly to everyone else except ourselves. Even the most ignorant among us seem to be highly skilled at the art of blaming, or maybe their ignorance is their source of the behavior.

It is dangerous to say the least. Not just to ourselves, but to others as well. I wish, at times, that I could grab each person and scream at their faces to just LOOK at themselves for a moment, before they open their mouths or raise their fingers. LOOK at all that they are risking. Why is it so hard for us to just shut up and observe instead? There is so much we can learn, so much we can experience and understand, if we only know how to listen, feel, sense, taste, and hear. We can gain so much more when we listen compared to when we talk. There is so much we can absorb simply by staying quiet and paying attention to everything around us, instead of being so bloody self-absorbed and noticing only ourselves.

Young people seem to be the worse in this sense. Whether it is teens or young adults, we just seem to not care about anything except ourselves. Being selfish is bad enough because it is insensitive and hurtful at times, but looking at it from a deeper perspective, being selfish is quite possibly the worst thing we could do to ourselves. By being selfish, we are hurting ourselves in a really bad way. By being self-absorbed, we are literally cutting off any chance we have of actually LEARNING and GROWING. In other words, we are retarding ourselves. When we forget how to observe, we stagnate.

It is not easy to get rid of that self-absorbency of ours. It is not something obvious; like all such problems, it subtle and insidious. It exists in the little things that we do and say. It shows itself every time we react too quickly at a comment about us, every time we instinctively think of ways to benefit ourselves, every time we channel our anger at someone or something else, and every time we lift that painful finger accusingly. The biggest challenge, which is also the first step in ridding ourselves of this disease, is to hold back. We need to push back that selfish thoughts that crop up, no matter how tempting it might be. Reserving judgment and withholding blame are just as important. The second step, which is relatively easier, is to find peace with ourselves. This is very much the source of ALL our problems; our lack of inner peace. We may think we are angry at a lot of things, that stress is due to a lot of factors, but honestly, there is only one reason. We are angry with ourselves because we are unable to find any peace within. There are too many worries, too many unanswered questions and doubts, and dissatisfaction with what we have. I do not have any solution for this; I only know that it helps me when I tell myself that everything I need is already there and everything else is a bonus. The trick, I guess, is to come to terms with what it means to need something. Sometimes, it is easy to want something so bad that it becomes an apparent need, especially when everyone else has it but we do not.

It is precisely at times like this that we need to really delve deep and figure out what is it we really need. This is the important part; I cannot stress this enough.

THINK ABOUT WHAT YOU HAVE INSTEAD OF WHAT YOU DON'T FUCKING HAVE.

Think about those who DON'T have what you have. Learn to understand the difference between needs and wants and then maybe we might find that inner peace that we lack.

Funny how this post seems so similar to the one before...

What are we but grown up children with big toys?

Truly, we seem to be just that. Children, clever, yet perhaps lacking any true wisdom. In our hands we hold big toys that wreak mayhem and destruction rather than anything good. The only thing that is different between actual children and the so-called grown ups is that the latter do not have a parental figure to guide and show them the way. No one to tell us what is right and wrong; no one to show us the error of our ways. What we assume to be the order, the way things are meant to be, is merely that; an assumption. We use our toys as means to achieving such ends that only exist in our minds and our assumption based objectives.

There is no absolute truth that we can discern. There are excuses. There are misguided, delusional, and misdirected beliefs; but is there really any way to tell the difference? As far as one can tell, the answer would have to be no. Yet, here we are, with centuries of civilization and progress behind us, still allowing ourselves to be dictated by 'codes' of propriety and 'orders' that are more arbitrary and convenient rather than truly functional and meaningful in a greater context. We are self-serving, more interested in making our own lives more comfortable and pleasurable than anything else. What is convenient is considered good and that is all that matters. We only really care about making things easier for ourselves and finding ways to greater entertainment and pleasure as well as doing whatever it takes to fit in with everyone else. Cost is not relevant; we would do whatever it takes to attain such a state. At the very core of this reality is our selfish tendencies.

We seem to be consumed by this behavior of selfishness. Some even take the stand that it is our inherent nature to be selfish; to want things for ourselves. The concept of property and ownership stems from the very fact that we belief that it is our right to horde. Our gods might be different, our religions and faiths equally so, but central to every one of these things is the fact that they are all focused on serving our own peculiar individual needs. We do not see a problem or an issue unless it directly involves us; otherwise it is somebody else's problem and we simply could not care less. As long as our own comfort and security is not affected, as long as our homes are not violated, to hell with the rest.

The idea of a home; a place of refuge, shelter and security is something that has roots deep within our souls. It is not merely the need for a roof over our heads. Deep inside, the concept bears far greater implications. As living creatures capable of being self-aware, we find ourselves thrown into this existence and left to our own machinations. Naturally, the greatest of human fears, that of emptiness, consumes us. Emptiness in terms of meaning, purpose and eventually the void of loneliness takes charge of us and influences our every action. Unable to find an answer within ourselves, unable to face the empty uncertainty and the lack of control in our lives, we force the issue by finding a little spot on earth, build a fence around it, pick up a weapon and defend it with our lives. We will never allow anyone or anything to violate or enter that spot without our permission. For all hopes and purposes, that spot is ours to do what we will.

That concept or ownership over something outside us is so pervasive that we even legalize it. We make it acceptable. It is right, it is true that we should own things. If someone else touches or takes what is 'rightfully' ours, then they should be punished. We all believe this. No one in their supposedly sane mind would say otherwise. Odd, is it not, that this very basic of human beliefs, that of ownership and property, comes from the fact that we are nothing but selfish and fearful little organisms?

From this then comes the need to attain what others have. Envy, greed and jealousy begin to take form and we slowly but surely find ourselves unable to find satisfaction because we can only see what others have but we do not. We can never be happy with what we have as long as someone else has something that we believe to be better. Someone's spot on the earth happens to have better soil than our own, even though we have more than enough resources provided to fulfill our needs. We still want more, because otherwise we would be considered inferior. Hence, the whole circus begins.

What are these things that I speak about? It could be anything and everything. Our little ones, the children, fight over toys, the playground and the biggest slices of cake. We, the grown ups, do the same from the smallest of things to the biggest; from cellphones and cars to nations and weapons of mass destruction. We want these things for our own, though we do not need them. Why? Because they make us feel a little bit safer? Because they can make our lives better? Or is it simply because they can take our minds off the main problem at hand; the fact that we are not able to find any peace or satisfaction inside our own souls?

Imagine this; we do not own anything. The world does not belong to us. We belong to it. Nothing beyond our physical selves belongs to us. That spot on the earth that we build a roof over does not belong to us. Instead of sucking up every ounce of life and energy from the rest of the environment to fortify our own needs, we work on nurturing the world that we belong to. When we put up a roof and build a shelter, it does not belong to us. It is just what it is, a shelter. Where any that needs shelter may go. It belongs to no one. If it is not nurtured, if it is not cared for, it will die. That is what our world is. That is what life is. The only way to realize any of this is to first seek an answer within ourselves because the only thing that we can control, the only thing that we can call our own, is ourselves. The answers to the emptiness that we so desperately seek lie within, not outside. The outside world knows how to take care of itself, but if we are not careful, and if we do not start taking care of this gift that we have been given, then we might not find anything but emptiness at the end of the day.

Back from short hiatus to nowhereland... which involved lots of lying around, lazing about and television... good stuff, or maybe not. Good football though.

yeah..will type something else later... the whole internet down thing is a reason not to come online much... takes too long... not that I'm dying from lack of time... right.

ciao