Happy Birthday

To be honest yo, I was a boy whose diet was controlled by my mom and whose behavior was under constant scrutiny. I was a moulding of success, or so she thought. Haha. I was given the best of attention and by misdeeds specifically lying resulted a heavy beatings of rotan, tali pinggang, hanger, you name it. I was even sent to an attic and wasn't allowed to go to school because I lied about my report card. Why was I so afraid to show my report card? I didn't fail or anything...

I was a very well-behaved boy who didn't have the chance to be a kid because being a kid was considered lupa diri. Hahah. Imagine telling an 7 year old they are lupa diri when they meet his/her cousins to play outside the house. Hahah. I was even pinched every time I did something childish when I was a child. Imagine that, restricting a child to be childish. Can you blame me now if I run around the corridor or ride my bicycle on the fourth floor early in the morning or sleep on a football field when it is raining heavily or take long walks from Gombak to Ampang to hilangkan tension?

Maybe it was because of my parents' high expectations, okay maybe my mom's. Sure she didn't have to tell me so but she implied it, in a good motherly way of course. I was schooled in a Tahfiz Pondok school and was later put into two private schools. Dang, thinking about it, she put a lot of effort in raising me to be a 'perfect' adult. I know she's frustrated of me now. I know she still think of me as an ungrateful child who broke her heart to pieces. I know she think I'm not doing well academically as I ought to, given my past success with government exams. I know how she feels about me and how she thinks I feel about her but I'm here to clarified what I really feel.

I feel free.

Not because I am no longer talking to her but in her absence I finally, finally live as myself. I want to be successful because I want to. I want to be good to my friends because I want to. I want to be a good muslim because I want to. I feel exhilarated to know that I found my own voice and I can actually use it, not to make my parents proud but to make me find my calling, to get closer to my passion, to get closer to God.

Yes I was suicidal. I guess it's genetic. My dad and all my aunts and uncles were suicidal at some point in their lives. I remembered wanting to jump off from my bedroom window. My mom shouted "Lompat lah!" I didn't want to give her the satisfaction so I didn't. Thank god for that : D

She taught me a lot about life. She taught me that impossible is nothing long before Adidas came out with that slogan. She taught me that the only way to achieve success is through hardwork and discipline. In short, she basically set a foundation for my future and no matter how I insisted when I was a teenager, her advice will eventually haunt me a few months(or years) later.

I now understand how hard it is for her to let me go. She never wanted to let me go. I sort of... escaped. I now understood her emotional blackmailing and imposed guilt trip. I'm glad I understood things like this now than much later or else it would be to late for her to know that I am forever thankful for her guidance. But it is time to let me go. It is time to watch me fall and get up again without having to lift me up herself. I know I hurt her a lot. But I like to think that she needs an excuse to hate me to let me go. (See, I am not as impulsive as everybody thinks I am. I craft my impulsiveness most carefully and set a pattern of foolish actions to achieve an unlikely negative circumstance that will somehow bring more good than a collective positive episodes can ever do.)

The fact of the matter is, I am forever thankful of my mother's sacrifices and I won't repay her in cash, car or credit card but by benefiting others with love and attention she'd showered onto me.

Happy Birthday Umi.

Happy Birthday Hadi. Don't worry. Getting 3 As will not determine your future (unless you want to be a doctor lah). What don't kill you will make you stronger. Study harder. Don't screw around with girls. Please take some time to memorize this very important formula:

Girls = Failing exams+Evil+Money

Princess Pornonia

A close friend of mine bought a Made In China mp4 'I-Pod' recently and guess what's the first thing he compressed from his pc to his erm... Tunez?

PORN.

Why am I not surprised? People deprived of information on sex when they were younger will later have a life long habit of watching porn. It's only natural. My parents told me nothing about sex. Maybe they think I'll learn it in school or friends but the only education I got from my school is the journey of sperms to a woman's ovaries and from friends: Oh man! haven't you heard of the missionary style before, no no no, orgies are more fetch.

To be honest, I myself watch porn sometimes. I won't try to bullshit you by telling you that it was out of curiosity when it is actually an aid to relief myself. I know you're thinking that this kind of thing should be disclosed to myself but I am trying to make a point here.

Some watch porn to relief themselves and others watch it because it's fun. With today's society's sense of materialism and a minimum requirement of RM10,000 to get married, am I to be blamed to be lacking of action of a specific kind? Abstinence of sex can only last half a decade but abstinence of relief?

But what concerns me though is that pornography is now watched recreationally in a habitual sense. Like smoking or drinking. It either provides a thrill or as calming effect, depending on a person's view on sex. I personally find it sickening that people treat pornography so... secretly and almost to a point sacredly. And people who responded to porn with a pretense of the day of judgement, I find them really really annoying and as I will probably be aware of later on, hypocritical.

I am not saying porn should be watched, comprehended or kept casually but maybe it should. Maybe that's how the human mind works. Let's say Matrix is your all time favourite movie, I don't think you'll watch the same shit everynight for a whole year and still think it's still your favourite movie a year later. By holding on to something and to treat it with undivided secrecy, that something is bound to become perniciously beautiful. So pernicious it will eat your sense of judgement of a particular subject with so much wrath, it'll surprise you how our whole lives can go down the drain because of it. Can porn do such a thing? Yes it can, if it is constantly treated like a fairy tale princess. But if it is left exposed without any sense of attached loyalty, we will somehow figure out the void of the whole existence of pornography, a first step of detaching ourselves altogether from it.



A rule I know by heart: Oppression = Resistance

Somebody ADD Me! (nyanyi seperti lagu Smallville)

Well, as you might have noticed, I changed the header because I was too embarassed to look at my own, ehem, revealing picture. Yes yes, I'm a shy shy guy. Boohoo.

I'm not sure why people are getting more fascinated with myspace and ignoring their friendster profiles. I think friendster is much more convenient and is easier to reconnect loosened ties.

Myspace features kind of caters for those who are willing narcissists.

So I have both!

I'm thinking of launching a facebook too.

I know you can only get a lot of friends if you're really really goodlooking or really really hype or really really slutty but I too have a share of a really really trait. I really really love to think about things, sometimes unnecessary stuff. And I really really like to read. Does that really really count?

So do me a favour by adding me as one of your friends. I'm sure people will get jealous coz you have me as one of your friends later in life (when I get filthy rich and surrounded by by-the-hour babes)

I can't picture myself upadating my friendster or myspace profile in ten years time. So old still want to post emo pictures to fetch comments. Aiya!

Here are my profiles:

Afiq's Myspace (In dire need of Friends!)

&

Afiq's Friendster (tak kisah pun tiga lima, siapa kentut keluaq bunga)

I'm using this picture as the primary picture (yeah, tiada alasan bagimu) :

Don't add any other Afiq, just Afiq from Afiqsays.


Huahuahuahuaharun!

Is it Really a Life Cycle?

There is a common perception of assuming everyone will indulge in a bit evil at some point of their life. A studiomate of mine was reading aloud an article about an actress whose suggestive photos were dug up by a tabloid magazine. She didn't deny it and told the tabloid, "kalau tak buat muda-muda, bila lagi?" This perception is many a time seconded by my friends and family to a point that it is acceptable to indulge in a sinful scenario at least once in a lifetime, like it is a phase. My mother sometimes hinted that it is okay to go clubbing and I should experience the nightlife because 1. I'm still young. 2. I have nothing to lose.

Oddly enough, it is also expected for somebody who exudes piety to somehow morally rot later in life. I find this perception amusing, if it were not untrue. It is as if we have a barometer of good deeds and when it exceeds its limit, it will, at some point, explode. And whenever I protested the idea, people who told me of this 'life formula' will talk of real people who got their taste of trying to be too good. "So it's better to go clubbing, have drugs, smoke and have sex while we're still young?" I would usually retort. "Exactly!" they'll answer.

I personally think people who have this perception are justifying their past or present actions because "everyone's doing it" and "it's better now than after marriage". That or they are questioning god's greatest and most significant creation: human beings. Animals for instant do whatever they're doing based on instinct alone and nothing else. We, homosapiens base our actions through reason. Muslims base our actions through both revelation and reason.

The common 'do now than later' idea is loosely connected to our most basic emotion: curiousity. When I was smaller, I was bombarded with No's and Don'ts and when I asked why? because God says so! Maybe adults would think that reasoning with a small boy will have no effect on them to respond to real situations later in life but they, these so-called adults taught me ABC and I'm still using the alphabets to write and read.

Jangan minum arak, haram! Nanti masuk neraka!

Jangan rokok, haram! Nanti masuk neraka!

Being a smart aleck like I was (or probably still am) I responded "Tapi bapak rokok apa..."

Oh, bapak lain cerita.

Aik. Not knowing the real-life complication of smoking and drinking, I drank like Dato' Linggam and smoke like a train when I finally got out of home. The concept of Neraka and Syurga was too illusive to be taken seriously, especially when hormones reigns control. A yeal later when I read Leo Tolstoy about the reason why men stupefy themselves, I know now that the reason why so many people drink is to drown and darken their conscience. How many times have you heard people who had to drink before doing anything physically risky. French troops too were given alcohol before they fought the Boer war. Murders, rapes, accidents and other human-inflicted tragedies were caused by people who were too drunk to think straight.

Smoking may not physically stupefy our senses but it is a habit that gives enough reason for us not to think so much. When I sit down, doing nothing, I will subsequently be flooded with ideas, problem that needs solving, friends in need, appreciation of my surrounding etc. but when I take out a cigarette, light it and smoke, my thoughts will be diverted and simpler and more attractive tasks will come to mind and the only thing I would think of are my ideas. That's why some people can't do their work without smoking because they will become less self-critical and ignore their own contradiction which will perpetually produce work of lesser quality. And that is also why people who are under stress smoke, so they will only be able to apprehend a small portion of the problem.

So in short, smoking and drinking will make us morally immoveable.

Metaphorically, these habits will deny us from looking at an object in front of us. Our sight will either be diverted to something more simple and attractive (smoking) or our eyes will be shut altogether (drinking).

So to say thay we human will be victims of life's cycle of deeds and misdeeds is just plain rubbish. Mistakes are made when people do not have enough knowledge to judge a situation and shit happens in life to guide us back to the right path. So if we drink/go clubbing/ do drugs to forget about it, we will have to encounter the same thoughts when we wake up only for it to be forgotten by distracting ourselves again and again and again....

If I knew this before I got out of home, I wouldn't have to face my misdeed's consequences on earth or (god forbids, wait, he made the rules!) during the afterlife.

So it is not a cycle. The cycle is entirely up to us. The cycle is not imposed nor is it compulsary. We made it compulsary. Two words guys: Revelation & REASON!

WHY?

I haven't sleep for the past 48 hours and I got to say, hallucination is so much better than watching movies. I've been seeing 'things' for a few hours now and none of its antiques can scare me. You know what's scary though?


Doing my laundry because when I leave my clothes to gyral for mercy in the washing machine, there will be this big muscular african guy who would wait for me to go to the canteen or back to my room and steal my boxers. He will usually (note the utter normalcy of the event taking place) take out one (just one) boxer of mine and, wait for it.... smell it, put it in his pocket and go back to his room. He's really huge so I'm pretty sure he's not wearing them and my boxers aren't branded either.


My boxers may not be expensive but they are 10 ringgit each dammit!


I realized his streak of boxer stealing when I got back to the washing machine earlier than he anticipated and I watched him smelling my detergent-smelling boxers from afar. I wasn't ultimately furious with his unlikely fetish, just curious with his choice of fetish object. Why not steal my suspenders or socks or change accumulating more than a ringgit? Why boxers?

WHY?

I ought to leave him a tell-a-tale lipstick smooch on my worn boxers. I ought to. But I'm afraid he will follow me to my room and god-knows-what.

I'm losing a boxer every week. I'm afraid of the thief.

I'm fucked.

Negaraku

I seriusly don't get what the fuss is really about. Kita ni hypocrit sangat ke?

Just because he's malay and muslim, he is no different than Brad Pitt or Matt Damon, he is an entertainer and entertainers entertains people with antiques like showing their nasi lemak friendly stomach. Faizal Tahir is another victim of Malaysian hypocrisy. I think there are more outrageous things happening in Malaysia like Linggam's "He looks like me, he sounds like me BUT it's not me." and the tilting headshot of Sharlinie all over KL. Keling betol. (no offence, no offence...) I don't make stereotypes guys, I just see them.

We went to Dataran Merdeka to shoot a documentary video about the historical site and I came across a poster of Pak Lah and the verses of Negaraku underneath his face potrait. Are we really a democratic country, Pak Lah? Are we? Because posters like that are only displayed in countries controlled by communists or regimes. Similar to Chairman Mao and Saddam Hussein's self-branding propaganda, the posters of our prime minister on top of a national song implies feudalism. That, or PakLah's wicked sense of vainity reigns supreme.

"The time is fast approaching when to call a man a patriot will be the deepest
insult you can offer him. Patriotism now means advocating plunder in the
interests of the priviledged classes of the particular state system into which
we have happened to born."

- E. Belfort Bax.

It is not wrong then to think that In-Wong Hwang's perception on Malaysia being controlled by a coallition of regimes is, you know, true. The Machiavelian sense of governmental control can no longer be sensible in the newly educated and learned Malaysia. Or is it?

Malaysia is ready for a new swing of honest journalism and politics. During Mahathir's time, newspaper editors were forced to resign because they were Anwar or Musa sympathizers and now, as you have probably noticed, our newspapers are very very pro BN. There's nothing wrong with this if not for the fact that journalists are forced to comply with BN's ideals.

Now is the era where three beastly agents are running our country with their undisputed power and influence: BN politicians, the Press and Capitalists. What are you going to do, bhai?

What are we going to do? We can gossip about Faizal's shirtless episode and ooooh, Siti pakai tudung tapi nyanyi? Suara bukan aurat ke? Hanjeng kau Siti! Hanjeng je kemutan purnama you!

Ooooooh...

(Ends entry with a few lines from Ella Fitzgerald's song)

I'm wild again, beguiled again

A simpering, whimpering child again

Bewitched, bothered and bewildered - am I

Couldn't sleep and wouldn't sleep

When love came and told me, I shouldn't sleep

Bewitched, bothered and bewildered - am I

Lost my heart, but what of itHe is cold I agree

He can laugh, but I love it

Although the laugh's on me

Jodoh, oh jodoh...

I cried for a full hour last night after a flat-out realization of my incapability to love. I claim I can love when really, I'm all out of love. What made me cry was a sequent of activities revolving the potrayal and depiction of love. It was purely coincidental. I watched the Notebook, read some of Ovid's love poem and received and SMS from my girlfriend of two years. The first two thing I did made me cry like a nancy and the text message put me off just like THAT.

I curled in my bed and thought of business ideas to put my mind off love. Money outranks love anytime, or so I thought. The more I tried to persuade myself that love is destined, its a fitrah, jodoh ditentukan tuhan, more tears drizzled along the crevices of my cheeks, joining the accidental tear brought by the movie and poems.

It was a miserable night, last night.

I will wait for my true love, love, love, it may even be my girlfriend for time too is an agent of love. Love can trascends so far from my love of my mother, father and brothers but it seems that real love will seek me, not the other way around.

Muse, wreathe your golden tresses
With myrtle of the sea,
And in eleven stresses
Compose our poetry.

Insya Allah.

I've been feeling lethargic and tired these few days. The weather change had somehow affected my structure of discipline and timing.

You've no idea how useless I feel right now. It is as if every twitch and turn I make will somehow accumulate to an equation of an endless uncertainty. It's like knitting a thread of wool hanging from the sky on a mound of clouds, only for the knitted sweater to join the rain when it's almost done.

It is time

to

Rearrange the furnitures.
Re-alphabetize my books and cds.
Rearrange miscellaneous items .
Wash the comforter.
Get a haircut.

Call a Bree, but I DO find comfort in doing these sort of stuff. I just do.

Ini Kerja Genius!

Ini kerja Genius!

Who would've thought putting malay-english subtitles on Indian and Korean music video can be so friekin hilarious.

Slam Dunk!

Have you tasted any of J.Co's donuts? Well if you've been to Pavilion and puzzled by the infamous J.Co queue, I'm telling you now that the 40 minutes of waiting is so very worthwhile. The Indonesian company ought to print "Dunkin Donuts, kiss my dunka-dunk-dunk!" on their donut boxes.

I saw a few celebrities at the Pavilion too and was almost invited to be interviewed by MTV's Utt but I don't want my future in politics be tainted with a stupid random interview. They were asking around about how Pavilion is better than other malls (indirectly of course) and the possibility of me giving my opinion that might contradict with the nation's future policy is probably imminent. Imminent. Woooo.. big word from a architecture student who was recently detained by a security guard for his Naruto-style hair.

I'm taking a big long break. No, not from blogosphere but the entertainment world. I recently realized that Britney's insanity streak and whether or not Reese Witherspoon is getting married and those sort of Hollywood trivial rackus is not doing me any good. Better now than later eh? (suck on that, you wannabe Paris Hiltons you!)

I'm still deprived of family love. I miss to hear their voices but again, I've a statement that goes along with my silence which is This Rubbish Has Got to Stop. I hate broken marriages because it doesn't only break marrital relationships as the term applies but it breaks the children's hearts too. Family feuds and misunderstandings will follow through. The children will only become guinea pigs of a misinformed pretext for all the wrong reasons. When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace. (Jimi Hendrix) And even though we all acknowledge the universal concept of love, we still won't be able to go over barriers if we breathe in truth and breathe out denial. I'm just saying, sometimes, or most of the time, the first enemy we'll encounter is ourselves. I am still mustering enough courage to stand firm with my beliefs.

I'm also NOT going to Syria even if our appointed heritage study destination is Syria. Because I might DIE (a back addition of a T appears to be scarier though) Syria is another oil-rich country with unconforming understanding with the United States or the group of people who are in control of the US. I don't care. I'm not going. If I were to die, I would love to endure it in peace, say, choking while eating J.Co donuts?

Again with the Hair...

Yesterday I went out with a studiomate Peah in pursuit of my hankering for an Awal Muharram Nasi Lemak. I drove back to UIA and was asked to stop by a Pak Guard. I showed my matrics card and thought all is well but I was asked to get out of the car. Apparently, the fuss was about my hair. He thought my hair was too 'stylish' for a student. I told him that it was my (literally) 'just got out of bed look' and I didn't intend to make it look stylish at all. He took my matrics card and told me to get it once the back of my hair is shortened. In the afternoon, I went back to the security guard post with the back of my hair shortened and asked for my matrics card back.

"Ini pendek? Awak ingat awak ni Naruto ke?" He said condescendingly, without looking at me. I tried to get him to look at me by sitting down so our eyesights are parallel to eachother. "Pakcik tengok Naruto ke?" I laughed.

That's all the 'kurang ajarness' he could stand. He began his belittling by telling his colleagues about my appearance. "Eh Jah, tengok budak ni, dier macam saper tu...." Jah the avid Mangga reader answered quickly. "Macam Adam AF." "Haah" the Pak Guard chuckled. "Dier main bontot, kau tak main bontot ke?"

"Ape pakcik cakap pasal ni? Saye dah potong belakang ape? Bagilah kad saye balik." I pleaded.

"Dier nak kad dier balik Jah, rambut macam artist..."

"Salah ke? Kalau rambut saye macam artist pun, saye dah potong belakang macam pakcik suruh ape.." I stood at the security booth for almost an hour, waiting for my card. He began to ask me about my girlfriend and my father's job and my loud car. I told him nothing because it was none of his business. His face reddened and took my card and put it in a cupboard and told me that if I keep this up and don't shove off, he will make a report to the Deputy Rector and I will be graduating at the far end of the queue. I told him I didn't mind, do what you have to do.

He began to make more nonsensical jokes and so-called lectures. Feeling that he was toying me with his authority, I asked him what else should I do with my hair to satisfy him. "Potong jelah semua, Mawi hensem ape!"

"Pakcik, saya akan jadi seorang arkitek. Sebagai arkitek, bangunan yang saya design kene sesuai dengan kawasan site. Same lah jugak macam rambut saya, side burn saye panjang bukan sebab saye nak jadi macam Adam tu, tapi sebab saye nk memanjangkan muka saya yang agak bulat. Pakcik kene faham, kalau saya nampak kelakar, orang takkan pandang serius."

"Ramai ape lepasanUIA yang kerja tinggi2, semua rambut smart."

"Smart tu pada pandangan pakcik. Smart pakcik lain, smart orang lain. Lagi lagi client saye."

"Kamu nak cakap pakcik bukan orang Kuala Lumpur lah?" His face reddened even more but was still unable to look at my face.

"Pakcik bukan tinggal dekat Kampung Pusu ke?"

I ignored his mumbling when I hit the jackpot and asked Jah which part of my hair should I cut to get my card back. "Belah tepi sikit." She was almost laughing at her partner's stuttering.

Before midnight I went back to the security post with the sides of my hair trimmed. The same Pak Guard, great, just great.

"Saya dah potong tepi rambut saye so saye nak card saye balik." I said with a stone of a face.

He took out my card and examined my face in the card. As he felt the groove of my card and folded the paper wrapping my card, he glanced at my face and looked at the card again. "Tapi macam tak cukup pendek lagi lah.."

"Woi! Engkau jangan main-main! Aku dah potong dua kali dah engkau nak tahan lagi kad aku! Engkau ni nak mampos ke ape!

"Nah!" He put my card into my pocket and got out of the security booth.

I just don't get him. I violated his image of a prim and proper and with that he think it is fitting to violate my dignity. With so little sense of civility, how could he be responsible of judging mine? Why does he think belittling students will get their act straight? And how does he define a good act? By their appearance? By their clothing sense? Hey, he wore a ridiculous green jumpsuit and I said nothing about it. I didn't act as if I was arrested by malay speaking aliens, didn't I. "Kami datang dalam keamanan..." or pretended he was Barney's sister and ran around the booth singing I love you, you love me, we are one big happy family. I respected his authority, answered some of his more appropriate questions and behaved. What more can he ask? Should I resort to shouting like a Mat Rempit when another Pak Guard approach me again. I don't know. Maybe I should.

De-Malaying Myself

Let me guess, your parents are probably malay professionals whom scholars would call the New Malay initiated by Dr. M. Your parents were either moderate or hardcore Reformasi supporters during Anwar Ibrahim's dramatic drawback from politics. After a decade of political correctness contemplation, your parents are probably Dr. M's fans by now. Funny isn't it, how politics takes its toll.

We are either the children of the wannabe reformists or offsprings of loyal government servants who are reaping pension benefits from the government. No matter, we are the new generation of wannabe idealists who will be forever tainted with the clashing of cultures; the neo-colonial mindset or the born-again Muslim society. And of course the fusion of both that reeks of hypocrisy and deceit.

Most of my childhood years were spent in schools that boasts multiculturalism where we were taught to learn about yourself then about one another. The self-identifying aspect of the schooling system in good schools in Sabah were successful of grooming a new kind of Malaysian. We were no more Malays, Chinese, Kadazandusun, or Indians in school but could quickly switch back to our customs the second we step into our homes. Simply said, our opinion on good looks differs greatly from the pan-asian adoration phenomenon in Semenanjung.

Life in KL is different though. No no no, I won't deny it, the new generation of Malaysians from all over Malaysia brought together my KL's economic lasso are showing hints of disunity, much to the amazement of the Klang Valley folks.

KL have always been a couldron of racims since independance, caused by our politicians' economic manuevering. And it is proven once again, when HINDRAF took the centre stage of undermining racial integrity, that KL is once again a hotspot for racial intolerance.

A few days before Hari Raya Korban, most of you might have received the sms that starts with Allahuakabar followed by instructions to go and get you parang ready... for Hari Raya Korban. It was a cruel joke, I have to admit and I was laughing my hearts out when I figured out it was a seasonal prank sms. But for the first 5 seconds of reading the sms before the joke is out, my heart was thumping with fear and in that 5 seconds I thought to myself.. I better stick to my own kind if I know what's good for me. After the laughter wore off, I felt sick to the stomach, truth is, I actually felt a deep hatred conjured by the phrase Allahuakbar and Parang. For an ex-sabahan student who'd grew up in a multicultural community, I was actually slightly racist myself! Just 3 years in KL and I was slowly but surely brainwashed by my malay mates way of thinking!

So this is the beginning of De-Malaying Myself. De-Malaying Myself is not about erasing the malay culture out of me but to identify the traits that had made me assimilate myself with racial confrontations. Yes I geddit... there are more racist chinese and indians compared to the dimunitive minority of malay hooliganism but the malays have always been the pioneer of social development and has the influence to urge other races to follow their league. Like how we urge the government to strip off the Kings' immunity because of their constant greed and misbehavior. If we did it once, we're sure to do it again. But this time, Malaysians of other races are no more audience of this evolution as they are a part of it. All of us have to De-Malay, De-Chinese, De-Indian or De-Lainlain in our own pace. We can all start by regularly conversing it at least two languages.

In a few years, we can even share jokes.

Cool innit?

De-Malaying Myself

If you're a reader of this blog and had tolerated my so-called freedom of blogging expression, your parents are probably the New Malay breed initiated by Dr Mahathir when he first became Prime Minister. And most of your parents, (I'm psychic you see) were either moderate or hardcore Reformasi supporters who'd thought Dr. Mahathir is a dictator for sacking Anwar Ibrahim in a despicable manner. And now your parents probably tracked back their political correctness and had finally realized that Dr. Mahathir is actually their hero.

And you, yes you are the offsprings of those parents, idealist teenagers who has a painstaking tendency to to adopt anglophilia or WOG (western oriented gentleman) as your primary mindset. You may have adopted western views on affection and verbal openness but mind you, we're still very malay, one way or another.

Even though my decision to enrol in a private school is still a subject of dispute to some family members because I didn't want to be in the Mara system (which was much more cheaper) I never actually regretted my uncomprimising stubborness because I'd realized today that immensing myself with multiculturalism had served me a spectrum of positive outcomes and gained myself a circle of loyal friends. If I were to follow whatever that comes in my way and got accepted in MRSM, I don't think I would ever be tempted to ever think outside the neo-colonial box.

But still I have to scrap off the tinsy bit of negative malay paranoia that lingers in my attitude and thinking, since I'm living on my own in KL, KL, KL, where the ugliness of racism often rear its head over troubled water. Everything that has anything with racism exploded here; 13th May 69, Hindraf and a few more upcoming riots and it never failed to hint all Malaysians that it is best to stick to your own kind if you know what's good for you. This is not Sabah, KL is never KK. Kota Kinabalu has the most tolerant society in Malaysia and even though this positive pecularity is never boasted through out the nation, every KK-lites would counter attack racist remarks with a simple

De-Malaying Myself

Chalk Art

Enuf tok.

Dang, this guy's works are so effin' amazing. It's chalk art by Julian Beever.

He even drew himself! Coolness.

The three dimensional effect can only be seen when pedestrians are heading the art work at a certain angle. In a plan view, the art works are elongated to achieve the 3-D appearance.

Reaching Out

I've received many e-mails by confused muslim guys and had answered their enquiries about being bicurious, homosexual or bisexual but this guy's confession is just so pure and honest that I have to make it public so others may learn about how to confront themselves in unexpected scenarios.

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An e-mail by Asd,

assalamualaikum and hello afiq deen. you may not know me (i prefer not to disclose my identity), but i really really wanna share my problems with you if you have the time. pls pls do not close this email yet because i feel that ur the only one who can understand me. just so you know that i am 16(PTS student), malay muslim, and i am waiting for my spm results. and ive been schooling at MRSM these past few years..

ive read several entries on ur blog and i found a few to be quite enlightening.. you see my problem is that im afraid that i may have interest in guys. ive gone to a rough childhood since i come from a broken family. i didnt sort of have any guidance since my father wasnt always there for us.

anyway, as youve stated, as all teenagers behave, im afraid that when my hormones were raging, ive come across the dangerous thoughts of anal sex. i kept surfing the net for porn till i stumble upon gay porn. and i couldnt resist myself. i tried really hard but to no avail. it has always spark interest in me. i was never caught before like u did so nobody actually stopped me from doing it. and as i watched more and more my lust really had control over my body. i was really really sad at times that i felt i didnt deserve to live in this world. because people all around me have such high hopes in me since ive performed excellently in academics.. what if they found out?my whole life would have been destroyed right in front of my very eyes...

living in MRSM didnt help me much either. in the dorm full of boys, my eyes simply couldnt avoid making contact with them..sometimes i would try and fondle them during their sleep...i know.. sick right?but im afraid thats why my lust have really taken control of my mind...sometimes i would even steal their underwear.. and a wave of guilt would simple surge over my whole body..but then one day i got caught in the middle of the night..that guy sort of woke up and i was shocked. really really shocked that i thought i might fainted.. luckily he didnt beat me up but he did call some other people.. and this guy was no guy.. he was one of the otai in the maktab. i was freaking scared that night that i couldnt sleep till the next day.. they said that they have heard rumors about me..and they wanted me to stop..i cried in front of them.. apologizing for the 1000th time.. saying that i couldnt control myself.. they were really close on reporting it to the warden but i begged them not too...u can imagine how frightened i was... i just couldnt face them anymore.. i was embarassed to death i can only pray that they didnt tell anyone else...

after that i sort of got myself back together, i prayed to God over and over again, wishing that he would guide me back to the right path. by the way, i did all of Islam obligations, though not as perfect as the rest, but i never missed solat fardhu before.. and i read the Al-Quran every single day after maghrib...i managed to find calmness in myself as i befriended all those religious people.. but it wasnt long before my old habits came back...

you see, living in asrama, i was considered as a jambu, partly because i was younger than most of them and i was small-sized.. (though i beg to differ).. but anyway, i became really close to this classmate of mine.. he was almost like a brother to me.. we shared problems.. and talk and laugh..he was sort of the abang angkat for me.. and people in the school knows.. because i was with him everywhere we'd go..i studied with him, waited for him to come down to prep.. and stayed up with him.. he even talked about his innermost secrets with me, like about when he had a wet dream (and he is straight for sure)..and my worst nightmare came when i realized that i was obsessed with this guy..i would wait for him to call me (my mrsm permits the students to bring phone to school).. and msg me..and everytime i was with him i felt really safe and secured.. people dare not critizise me anymore because they knew i was close to this guy (he was one of the otai in the school also).. and he would always protect me if somebody was disturbing me..and this guy.. he has a girlfriend.. whom i knew well and i helped him to get her.. and i became really jealous of her when he always hang out with her..i even tried to break them up but of cos it didnt work out..

however, he didnt know about my interests, and thought of me as his lil brother only, not more than that..i was really scared at that moment because SPM was so near..i tried to distance myself from him but i just couldnt.. i was afraid that he will know the truth..and i couldnt risk losing him.. when he was the only one i could talk to..i never talked about my interests because i know how he hates gay people. he once said that these people are laknat Allah.. from that moment onwards i knew i had to get away from him..

i cried for days alone..i just couldnt be friends with anyone else anymore because i was so afraid that they will know the truth..but i mustered up the courage and act like nothings happen.. and along the process in MRSM, ive gained some truly great friends..and the fact that they were so kind to me that i couldnt risk letting people know about me...

but somehow, as ive stated before, i was really excellent in my academics. i got a pointer of 4.00 for 2 semesters (thats quite a tough achievement) and even got best student for certain subjects...all the juniors looked up to me...teachers were all expecting me to get straight A1s for SPM.. i also became champion of a few inter-mrsm competition..

but you know what? i felt that i didnt deserve most of the awards..as ive sinned, and sinned a lot to Allah..i began to think that it is istidraj from Allah s.w.t.. its Allah's way to test His servants who have committed sins by awarding him with nikmat on earth.. i was really scared at that point.. i kept thinking that Allah is giving me another chance.. so i reverted back to the Al-Quran, i tried to find answers...but i just couldnt..more and more awards bombarded me.. but i was never riak of it.. i kept a low profile..but as ive stated before.. i was scared that it was all istidraj from Allah...and im starting to type this in tears..do you have any idea how scared i am??

after i left mrsm..i became more uncontrolled.. because i wasnt watched by my friends.. and living in KL does not help much either..ive comitted a lot of sins right after spm till now.. im really really scared.. that Allah would punish me.. that i would not be successful in my SPM... but alhamdullillah i managed to do my SPM quite okay back then..but i still do not know my results.. He is Almighty.. He can do anything...please.. i really need your help..i dont know what am i going to do now.. everything is a blur.. i do not want to lead my life like this.. i want to go back to the right path...please i beg you, afiq, to help me with me problems.. as i feel that ur the only one who really understands my situation... thank you and assalamualaikum.. pls take your time in replying.. i know ur very busy and i do not want to disturb you...you can just call me N .. may Allah bless you..

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Well I can truly relate with your problem because I too was young and jambu and have a weird inclination towards guys (well some guys..)

You may not want to blame it on your childhood but trust me man, part of your problem comes from your parents' divorce. My parents may not approve of this but having no father figure when going through my teenage years were both distressing and depressing. There were times when I surfed gay websites, got caught and had to beg for forgiveness from my mother. Single mothers are often too busy to be sensitive as they should and often result to tough love to compensate the absence of a father figure. By doing so, they are actually implying a certain message "You are suppose to be this or that way so be a man or get out of the house."

Your biggest fear is everybody knowing your sexual orientation. You shouldn't be afraid of the knowledge of people knowing you're gay. Be afraid of God and then be afraid of yourself and what you're capable of. Only by aknowledging your problem will you be able to confront it. Tell yourself "I'm Gay." and progress to "I'm a Muslim" and later "I will become a better Muslim."

The guy crush you experienced is a manifestation of a missing link in your life. It is all to common for people like us to have crush on people that embodies a certain value that fills a void in our hearts. My crush on Haikal was because I had no one with a acute sensitivity to listen to my problems without wanting to solve it like a mechanic. (mothers usually does this) The heart is not a machine. The problem do not have a beginning nor an ending. It evolves or dissolves into something else, be it a positive or a negative manifestation. You didn't have anyone strong to imply a sense of security in your vulnerable years like a proper father so you cling to a friend that embodies such personality. Think to yourself "Do I really need someone to protect me now? Can I protect myself?" If the answer is Yes, find out whether you like him as a loyal friend or because he feeds your ego or inferiority case? If you still can find reasons to be a good friend of his, continue your friendship. If not, let him go and if he still insists to be your friend, hey man, that's a true friend right there.

Real friends are people who accepts your flaws and will help you to manage them. Friends who encourage your habits are traitors who will lead you to your own destruction.

Allah gives you challenges because he still loves you. Do you know those rich buggers who never gives a shit about everyone else and still lead a happy luxurious life? Allah still gives them problems so they can have a chance to reflect and purify their otherwise black life. Allah loves all of us and we can only achieve happiness by making Him happy.

Since you're already out of MRSM, join a club, an affliation or even a sport association so you can be surrounded by activities that will fill the absence of homosexual thoughts. Like I said, problems has no beginning nor ending. When you feel a rush of lust, get hold of yourself and fill the void with fun activities of hobbies. My personal favourite is making gifts and crafts. Find yours. Soon your homoerotic thoughts will still reside in your mind but will serve a certain function. I found out that mine could make me more creative when designing because I appreciate a larger perspective of beauty.

I hope my take on things will help you in discovering and managing yourself. It's not wrong to love men. It's only wrong when you have sex with them. Haven't you heard of guy love? Allah made all of us different in so many ways by throwing in unusual situations and circumstances so we could embrace it and turn it into something positive.

Let's Compare & Contrast

Dr. Chua Soi Lek resigned his post as the Health Minister because he found out that the public is disgraced by his sex scandal. He did so out of moral obligation as he took responsibility for his actions. He deserves a royal high five for his bravery in admitting he's the man on the DVD. He took the bullet. He accepted the consequences for his wrongdoings, even though the sex scandal was taken advantage by his political rivals.

Well have you seen the video though? I'd seen it and well, what he did with his girlfriend is really standard sex. I thought there were some acrobatic stunts... Heheh.

And there was the Datuk Z case, the MP who built his mansion without permit, along with his sons' satay restaurant. On the first day of questioning, he went to Istana wearing golden baju melayu and Gucci shades, didn't stop for photographers and smirked an -apa tengok-tengok- expression.

When his case was widely publisized and shown on TV, he changed tactics and cried in front of media personnels in a smaller house. He wore peasant looking cream shirt and a cheap working class glasses. Now that's a first class douchebag right there.

He eventually completed the construction of his house and even invited orphans to berbuka puasa at his mansion. He tried to impose a apologizing gesture when he did his little feast but for me, it was even more despicable than faking a breakdown. Like Dr. Chua, he was busted but why didn't he resign his post?

I rest my case. It's embarassing to see how a non-muslim own up to his mistakes and accept the following consequences so much dignity. It's even more embarassing to see a muslim leader who never miss a prayer to dodge the bullet by... crying on TV.

Tsk.

Sukacita-shop.blogspot.com

I am 20.. Still a virgin. 20 and virginal (is there such a word)... I promised myself to not have SEX before marriage so what to do lah right? Sabarrrr~~~~

Datuk Seri Dr Chua Soi Lek resigned because of a sex tape of him and his mistress/girlfriend/porcupine. I think he's doing the right thing because the majority has spoken. They don't like their Health Minister involved in a healthy activity we call SEX. I like SEX. Why, I love SEX. SEX is good. SEX is healthy. Health Ministers should be doing healthy activities.

If UMNO ministers is caught having SEX with other women, will they resign too? In that case, instead of marching and rallying and voting to get ministers off their department, why not hire a private investigator to follow them around and trick them to have SEX with people other than their wives, video tape it and sell it at Uptown. And to spice things up, throw in a ridiculously beautiful tranvestite and an orgy of Hindraf supporters.

Dr Chua describes some Malaysians to have an Holier-than-thou attitude. True enough, we Malaysians are very holier-than-thou. Drug your father with Veritaserum (Harry Potter fans should know) and ask this question:

Have you ever cheated on Mak?

Most fathers will answer:

Pernah.

And yet you'll see your fathers fuming at the breakfast table. "He should resign!" They would smack a fly with their roll of newspaper and sip a cup of coffee your mom made with the same lips that accidentally attached itself to another woman's last night.

The public decision to shove him off his position was based on Moral Value. And Hypocrisy.

The thing about prejudism is if you practice it, you'll have to endure it.

And since we're on the subject of SEX, I am indeed in need of it. I'm 20 and horny. The only problem is I need at least 20 thousand to get married. Now THAT's the root of Zina. No no no, not porn or clubbing but ass-wipe future in-laws who would only let their daughters up when they get their hands on enough money to buy them a Proton Persona.

Yes yes, apparently me showing more of my skin has a cosmic effect on my blog rating. FYI, I've already officially launch Sukacita-shop.blogspot.com.

It'll be simplified to Sukacita-shop.com in a few months if my pilot Blog Shop is successful. What are you waiting for guys, buy a card and make me rich. Muahahaha.