It's been a while!

Dear readers,

It's been a while since I last blogged. I do apologize profusely as it's been hella busy over the past few days/months/years.

Good news! I'll be playing the lead for a music video tomorrow for a band called Manhand. Google them to find out who they are.

I'm quite pleased with myself this year; I quit my job from the hell hole of a department and was traveling for a while for 4 months. Then with a stroke of luck, I managed to get a job again in my old company but a different department. Quite happy indeed.

I'll update more after tomorrow.

A Tear Shed Over Time

I recently met a guy. A guy who I thought would be a good friend. A friend who I thought was cute. A cute guy who was seeing another guy. Lets name this guy who I met, Barry.

At first, I stated my grounds clearly, not to engage in any form of sexual acts with him. I told him straight, that since he was together with someone else, I will not engage in any forms of sexual activities with him and the most we could be is friends. Next thing you know, I'm really starting to fall for him.

I waited an hour for him to get off work, sit down and have a drink with me for only 30 minutes before heading off to his next meeting. And the fact is, I didn't mind; which was a big indication that I really like the dude.

The third time we met, was at his place, where we had one too many drinks and ended up sleeping with each other. Torturous. I knew I was falling for him the moment our lips locked. I broke my own rule in not sleeping with him and I knew that I was falling down a deep and dark hole. He was seeing someone! How could I let things go out of control???? I felt so guilty after that, I went home and slept.

Today, I went out on a date with another dude. Throughout the whole date, I could not stop thinking about Barry, and the moment he called, I ran outside to pick up the phone. I really don't know what spell he put on me but I resisted and told him I would call him back.

I sent my date home, and we made out in his house but all I could think about was Barry. I left my date's place, saying that I needed to sleep, but in fact when I stepped into my car, I immediately started dialing Barry's number.

I spoke to Barry for a good 20 minutes, telling him how I felt, but in return he told me that the feelings I feel for him would change over time through personal experience. I was quite devastated by the remark, and I still am.

Through the act of putting down the phone of him, I realized that we can not be anything more than friends.

How I really wish we could.

I really do wish we could.

But sadly to say, we can not be.

Judging 3th@n

It's been a while since I last posted anything. Sorry to those who read my blog, I have been too lazy to even write.

I went to Marketplace tonight. I think I had...a good time there. Got a friend drunk and watched her throw up several times in the toilet and into ice buckets. Listened to friends chit chat about their love lives or what they expect out of their love lives. I was also a viewer to a show of two lovers who recently met and in my opinion, should get a room and shag all night instead of going out clubbing.

What really disturbed me tonight was not the fact that two guys were making out as if it was their last day together, but it was being told by friends that I had that look of someone who would not be faithful and hence, it would be difficult for me to even find someone to share my life with without having an open relationship. This fact was really hard to swallow and digest. As I tried to come into terms with it by consuming alcohol and cigarettes, a (very good looking) man sat down opposite me and started eyeing me. Aware of this fact, I tried to eye-flirt with him for a bit and then suddenly, to my distraught, another man sat down next to him and started making out with him and held his hand ever so dearly. It was his boyfriend.

Despite the fact that his boyfriend was sitting next to him and hugging so tight that his chest would explode, he was still looking at me and his body language was still inviting me to get to know him. This little event was just hard to experience; it was like a small window view of how my current life now was filled with men who havepartners and are unfaithful to them and want to bed me for a night or two. Lust at first sight. Nothing more than that.

This got me thinking in a very negative light; am I destined with the face I have to only experience bad relationships and partners who think I'm nothing more than a big cheat? Nothing more than one or two nights? I can't be imagining things if this is not the first comment and experience which I have.

How am I supposed to even sustain a relationship if I can't change the way I look?

These things may not ever be answered, but depression aside, I still want to be optimistic about finding the right person for myself.

I believe he's out there.

Perhaps far, perhaps near.

Just perhaps.

Let There Be.

It was a good day. That is what I like to tell myself almost every day. It was certainly a good day.

But today is different. A friend called me up when I was out with another bunch of people and told me to come by because he's feeling depressed. I love my friends, and I rushed over as soon as I had the chance. When I arrived at the pub he was at, all I could see were tears.

He told me that his boyfriend had broken up with him. Despite preparing myself for the worst, I had no words to say to comfort him. As we sat outside, I watched pellets of tears form in his eyes, roll down his face and fall harshly onto the ground.

His boyfriend of 7 years.

Over.

Just like that.

I listened to my friends try to console him and him trying desperately to defend and reason why his boyfriend left him. All I could do is just hold him tight and make him feel wanted.

At times like these, I believe silence is the key. Listening to his predicament and nodding. Despite the fact that I'm opinionated, I kept my comments to myself because I know, no matter what you say to him in his drunken state, nothing will be absorbed.

Danny is a good person, and I believe he should never be subjected to feeling like this.

His friends try to tell him, it's over, just deal with it. You're too good for him. There are other fishes in the sea. Standardized remarks and comments.

He told me quietly that he wanted to start his life over again. When I looked into his puffy bloodshot eyes, I could see myself in him. So I told him, it's best if you dwell on these feelings for a while so you could process it and move on.

Bad things happen to good people all the time, and I pray desperately that it would stop.

If there is a higher being, I would wish S/He could hear my prayers.

Let there be light for those who want it.

Let there be peace for those who pray for it.

Let there be love for those who need it.

Am I Bovvered?

As the wheels of time churns, we get older by the day but any wiser? I would like to think that I'm wiser through experience.

In a couple of days it would be 2010. What is my resolution for the New Year? I believe that New Year's resolutions are setting oneself for failure. Not very many achieve their goals within the year and to those who have, Congratulations!

Before the year ends, I would like to resolve a few issues on my mind by writing.

Perhaps I'm a hypocrite for saying this but I feel like I need to get this out of my system. Couples are annoying. I would like to think that friends that are in relationships are complementary to each other but to lose sense of self is a bit depressing. I am genuinely happy for them, and I wish for all the best to them, but certain events that have passed led me to think that perhaps friends are of lesser importance when it comes to relationships.

It has come to my attention that I was like that with my ex, but it has also been brought to my attention that I behaved better towards my friends when I was with him. I did not see my friends as often as before I got together with my ex but they understood and I will as well.

I think I'm upset because despite the fact that I was in a relationship before, I stuck to my guns and did try to meet up with the rest of them in different occasions. I would never set up a meeting and in the end, blowing them off for some poor excuse. Not to mention, them bringing along their partners and making me feel like a third wheeler.

Thinking this whole issue through, I would like to just write it off as me being jealous. Of them having someone they can spend their days with and me...well lets not get into that. T'is, after all, the season to be bitter and depressed.

I do hope that this feeling goes away though. Perhaps a change of scenery and mentalities would do the trick.

But am I bothered by this?

You bet your ass I am.

Leave No Impressions

I was at the gym the other day trying to get my routine back on track and I was using the free weights when I saw this guy (probably average sized to lean) watching me lift weights. I must admit, I'm rusty and I don't like lifting weights which is why I would make almost any excuse not to do it but watching my weight fluctuate into a number which I'm terrified of, I'm trying my best not to make anymore excuses and just to hit it.

So here I was, lifting the 35s at an angle of 45 degrees and blasting music through my SkullCandys when I catch this guy looking at me. And it was not the cruising sort of look, it was more like sizing me up. After I was done with my set, I took a drink from my water bottle and through my peripheral vision, I could almost see and sense of smugness from him as he was lifting the 37.5s with ease. I smiled to myself and continued working out.

Ego has existed since the dawn of mankind. I believe there are two types of ego, one of which fuels your desire to achieve your dream and the other being the self-destructive "I'm-better-than-you-so-you-can-watch-me-be-better-than-you" ego.

This form of egoism borders upon narcissism and my theory is that it hides a deeper insecurity. It almost seems like one has to over-compensate in a particular attribute in order to shadow one's flaws. Why do I state that it's self-destructive? Most probably because that feeling of insecurity grows and festers within oneself which causes one to loathe that insecurity and perhaps anything that has resemblance to it.

As far as I am aware of, I believe quite a few men have this. I also believe that women have this too, and I think it is only adamant when dealing with their own sex. Honestly, I think it's quite an un-attractive personality trait. Showing-off and making someone feel bad for being a have-not is the ugliest trait anyone could ever have and I believe this encourages the separation and distinguishing of classes.

All I can say to anyone who has this trait is, "Sorry, that really does not impress me". :P

Family Guise

It's been a while since I last blogged. Since I face the computer 8+ hours a day and 7 days a week, I don't have much energy to type anything anymore.

I was stumbling across a blog when I realized that I haven't written anything for myself in a very long time. And I should. Writing keeps me sane and I feel like I'm going insane from all the stress at work and the people in it.

Anyway, I just had a conversation with my mother about my 14 year old cousin. A couple of nights ago, my mother received news that my cousin had turned into a "bad apple". She had skived school, took a cab and went to a shopping mall with a bunch of boys who were a lot older than her who apparently were loan sharks.

My mother labeled her off as being playful and rebellious and told me that she should be put in a boarding school.

I on the other hand disagreed. Since my cousin was in her teenage years, plus her parents are divorced, her mother works more than 58 hours a week and she does not talk to her father, I believe she had felt like she lost control of life. I believe that every girl whether she's 50 or 15 has an insecure side to her. And the fact that she hates her father because he's controlling and left her to live with her mother doesn't help.

I thought my mother's solution to the problem was not a solution at all. I didn't think it addressed the problem at all. My solution offered was to try to be-friend her, and to speak to her as if she was an adult. She has choices, and she needs to know that she can make decisions but informed ones. I think Generation I-Deserve (which refers to my generation and the younger ones) are a lot smarter than we give credit for which is why speaking to her as an adult, I believe is a good way to appeal to her mentality.

Mother then challenged me, and told me to put my money where my mouth is and try to reach out to her. I said that relationships and friendships have to be organic. It cannot be forced and in a situation like this, it would make things worse with my cousin.

Mother listened and rolled her eyes when I argued my case and she told me that I was full of shit.

I told her to stuff it.

Pepper

My dog, Pepper, got hit by a car 2 weeks ago, under the care of my ex. I only got to find out yesterday.

When he told me, I was shocked. I didn't know what to say. The only thing going in my head was why didn't he tell me earlier?

I wanted to blame him for Pepper's death. If I had taken care of our dog, she would still be alive. But I know it's not his fault.

Pepper is buried somewhere in Cheras. I want to see her so badly. Maybe just hug her one last time, scratch her ears, or just play catch with her.

I miss her so much. And I know she loved me back. I just wish I could say goodbye.

If I Could

Some people say this with force.
Some people say this with humour.
But I say this with sincerity.

A few months ago, a couple of friends and I sat down and enjoyed our mixed cocktails of beer and whiskey when a question suddenly popped up which stunned everyone into a couple of minutes of silence.

The question was, "What do you think your purpose in life is?"

As we went around the table, answering perhaps the most illogical and unexplainable question, I sat there quietly and wondered how was I going to put my feelings into words. I heard answers which amused and interested me, such as "being put into this life to make people laugh" or "I believe I was born in this life to go through karma which I had collected over the lifetimes".

When my turn came, I could not put my feelings into actual sentences. But I tried.

I felt like my purpose in this life is to make a change for the better. With the utmost sincerity, I hope I could make a large difference in people's lives.

As cheesy as it sounds, I feel like this is my purpose. I was given a life that some people would kill to have. Maybe it is middle-class guilt, the fact that I was lucky to be born into this life but I am also given the chance to grow up and help people in whichever unselfish way I can.

Whenever I register an asylum seeker at my workplace, I feel better.

Whenever I meet someone who cannot afford to pay their rent, their food nor provide for their family and I refer them to someone who can provide them with financial assistance, I feel better.

Whenever I go against the system and vouch for asylum seekers to get registered, I feel better.

To think that in life, I am given the opportunity to do so. I believe that anyone could make a difference; even the smallest would contribute to a considerable amount.

Now if you could make a difference, what would you do?

Or perhaps I should ask, what do you think your purpose in life is?

Mad About Food

Malaysia.

A city that never sleeps.

Filled with restaurants, each one better than the next, some might call Malaysia the food heaven. Dieters call it hell.

Well, there's one particular restaurant that has caught my attention and I've been dying to try; Mad About Pizza. Although I'm disgusted by the thought of global chain conglomerate restaurants such as Pizza Hut, I love myself a good big cheesy pizza.

This quaint restaurant located in Kota Damansara (the square of shop lots near Ikea/Ikano/The Curve) looks amazing. Their Menu on their website makes me salivate and dream about a big pan of Mushroom Feast. Mmmm!

You can visit their website at http://madaboutpizza.com.my

Another restaurant that I have my eyes set on trying is the churrascaria restaurant called Bom Brazil. I'm a sucker for good buffets and with my Chinese blood boiling in me, buffets are "super value" when it's all meat. I fell in love with churrascaria restaurants after my trip to Singapore back in 2008. I went to a restaurant called Carnivore and as the name implies, I was masticating on plates of juicy meat. Yum yum.

Oh. The thought of good food right now is almost unbearable. I must feed on something...

Or someone.


Disclaimer: I'm not being paid for writing about these restaurants (although I should *hint to future restaurant owners who want a little bit of online advertising but is too cheap to pay for an ad on the online newspaper so you invite bloggers to eat in your restaurant for a cheap price so they would blog and rave about it and you get a deal on advertising with minimal expenses). These little reviews are the rantings and cravings of a Polarbear. End Disclaimer.

Fly High...Sky High!

Places that I have visited and would want to go again:
1) Taiwan
2) Thailand
3) Hong Kong
4) Shanghai/Shen Zhen
5) London
6) France
7) Indonesia
8) Singapore (hmm...then again...)

Place that I have visited and would never return (even if there's 1,000,000 dollars in it for me):
1) Cambodia (Scammers galore)
2) Prague (The most depressing country during winter)
3) Dubai (Nothing but sand in butt cracks)
4) Australia (Did someone mention racists?)

Places I would love to visit in the following couple of years:
1) Canada
2) Rome
3) Greece
4) South Korea
5) The rest of China
6) Portugal (I would love to meet my Figo)
7) Brazil

The Invisible Man

Another year.

Another break-up.

Is it even possible to maintain a monogamous relationship in this day and age?

I was in a serious relationship for 4 months, 2 of which I spent half drunk and half not bothered and the rest I spent sober with heated arguments. I used to think I loved this guy, but as the time ticked away, I could not see a future with him.

When I'm in a relationship, I would dream of a future with the man I'm with, an apartment in Damansara Heights, a bed together, a car which we can't afford because of our measly salaries, a wedding in Canada during autumn. At this point I need to remind you readers, that yes I do have a dick and a pair.

With Lester (not his real name), I could not see anything. Sometimes I would think to myself, why am I with him? Feelings for him are there, but I don't think I would go to the extent of calling it "love". Then I thought to myself, why should I spend time with a guy I don't love? Is it because I'm already used to his presence?

I needed time to figure out, so I did a one week trial where I hardly contacted him and analyzed our relationship from every angle possible. After what seemed like hell throughout the week of him trying to pick fights with me and me not communicating with him, I decided it was time to end things.

He decided to bring everything I left at his place back to me, which was initially my fault as I did tell him I wanted things to be black and white, my things are mine and his things are his. I am a guy like that, I like lines to be drawn.

I did hurt him.

And I'm not proud of it.

As I looked into his eyes, I could see that he was burnt by me. I could tell by the way that he told me he was now dating other men.

Is it possible, through all my experiences of dating men, through all the experiences of getting hurt, through all the tears I spent crying over lost loves, are channeled through my new dating persona?

Someone wise once told me that through experience comes growth. But growth in a horizontal way, or vertically? Good or bad? Halal or non-halal?

With all these dating experiences tucked away in my pocket, have I turned into a soulless being who cannot feel the hurt of other people? Am I that jaded?

All I can think of aren't the answers, but instead;

How cliche to analyze oneself after break-ups.

I'm Not Dead...Yet.

It's been too long since my last posting and I've decided to give blogging another go.

Work with the UN is quite hectic and work never seem to end. But on a light note, surprisingly I got a letter from a refugee the other day with my name written on it. I almost never get snail mail and it was a pleasant surprise for me that day. The only catch is, I was not allowed to open it (in case it contained trace amounts of anthrax or unleash a new strain of herpes, etc), but still it was a little funny.

These past few months have been tiring. With less than a good ample 8 hours sleep a night, my eye bags have turned into humongous garbage bags. Trash anyone?

Ah right. I got a new tattoo as well. I'm quite sure a few people have seen it since I've been proudly parading it around with my sleeves rolled up in an awful fashion. It is fashion faux pas, but if you got it, flaunt it.

Things have been exciting these couple of days, with my ex-lecturer getting arrested under the Sedition (need I say stupid?) Act and groups having vigils and protests. I wish I had attended at least one, but being a silly gay boy, I went for my gym class instead.

I am also very proud of the Monash students for organizing the protest against WCH's arrest. Kudos to ML. I am upset at myself for not turning up for the event. Work is not an excuse, although it is mine.

The same day, during the Perak State Assembly, I could feel the electricity in the air as I was refreshing The Edge's website every 5 minutes to catch a good friend of mine posting updates live from Perak.

As I have not exactly been politically active these couple of months, I miss the adrenaline rush I used to get when going to protests and vigils; the air would suddenly turn cold when something was going to happen and you would not know what would happen until it hits you or when people start running. Bringing the "Protest Bag" consisting of small bags of salt, plastic bags, a towel and the Malaysian Flag.

Sigh.

The only consolence I have for myself is the thought that there is definitely more to come...

Public-action

It's been a while since I've updated my blog. Mostly because I've been brain-dead everyday when I come back from work and since I face the computer daily typing in bio-data and verifying candidates, I do not want to spend the rest of my time facing a computer.

It's been good so far. I've never thought being away from a computer would be liberating.

I've recently been asked to send in a short story for possible publication. I haven't exactly gotten very far but I have a basic idea of what I want to write and how I want to write it. I spent the first half of yesterday writing lines and erasing them cause they were so trivial and boring.

I realized trying to transform an experience into words is hard, especially when you're trying desperately to hide the fact that it is your very own experience. I've been trying to tackle this angle by writing in a third person point of view but as a memoir. I suppose if it is not written correctly, it would fail miserably.

I'm hoping that my editors would like it, but knowing their artsy fartsy mentality, they would probably laugh at my feeble attempt to write.

Whilst I digress from writing, I've contacted Borneo Ink in hopes of getting a new tattoo. Once I get it, I'll discuss more about it.

As for now, it's back to the drawing board...and work tomorrow.

Monday blues always get the best of me.

The Lost Art of Writing

After a long day of work, I like to unwind with a cold beer. With every sip, I can feel the elixir flow down my throat and replenish my energy. Ahh...whoever made beer is my God.

My ambrosia.

Today, I was heading out to the gym when I came across a letter addressed to me. I've never gotten letters, only bills under my name. As I was late and on the phone, I grabbed it and drove off to the gym. A couple of hours later I came back into my car and looked at the letter. It was still addressed to me. I know who wrote it but I can't seem to get over the fact that people write letters still. With our technological savvy-ness, who would have thought that people still write?

That got me thinking, when was the last time I wrote a letter. It was in Grade 4 and it was to my pen-pal...from...I can't even remember. To think about it even more, I have never really written a post-card and mailed it.

Writing on the walls.

I love writing, but to actually sit down and write to someone personally, I don't think I can do that. I'm able to spill my guts and emotions out on this blog but I don't really think about my readers. I usually just write because I can and I want to. Not for people to read, but for my own personal development.

It's about time; I should write and mail something off.

Or maybe I'm just scared someone would read my chicken feet handwriting and laugh.

Ha ha.

An Atrocious Little Play On Love

I went for a play yesterday called A Crazy Little Thing Called Love produced, created and directed by Colin Kirton. As there were good reviews for this play, my friend and I thought it would be interesting to see what sort of concepts and direction they would take.

Throughout the first act, I was appalled. It was not the bad acting, but I was disgusted by how they were trying to dictate what family values are; heterosexual hierarchic Western ideologies on what families should be. You have the infamous skit called Lost In Transmission, where you get an insight into how "Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus". What a load of crock. First of all, it stereotypes how women are emotional and are in need of constant attention whereas men are emotionally stagnant in relationships and need to be constantly reminded that they are in a relationship.

Then you have the whiny couple, who got married; the husband being the provider and the woman being the naggy emotional baggage that everyone seems to hate carrying. Repeating the lines "You've changed" about ten million times is excruciatingly painful for the ears and to watch the dramatic skit unfold itself is painstaking for the eyes. It was extremely cheesy and if I could, I would puke and shit at the same time on how bad it was.

Bad actors! Shame on you. You ought to be spanked.

Oh no. It doesn't stop there. If you think the first act was bad, I stayed till the end of the second act. It got worse from there.

You have a reworked blog entry by a guy from Singapore who's father had cancer. They reworked the entry (I hope they got permission) and called it I Am My Father's Son. It was a futile monologue that did not engage with the audience at all. On top of that I was so angry that they reworked someone else's work and put a storyline into it. YOU DO NOT DO THAT. That is just plagiarism and bad script-writing. Plus the creator pumped in words that were loaded with sympathetic connotations in order to captivate the audience. It sucked. Trust me, it really sucked.

Last but not least, you would think that there would be at least a little bit of artistic direction into this play, but no. There was not. They over-utilized the Hollywood feel-good movie blockbusters and had other stuff like the 30 year old woman who wanted her father's love and the girl who was angry at her mother for leaving the father and had cheese-filled lines like "I forgive you Mommy", just think of Britney Spears in Crossroads and you would get the idea.

This is the cherry on top of the icing, they used the phrase "I Love You" over 50 times. If I had learned anything from Writing 101 it was to Show and Not Tell. Now that is just bad writing and rude to deep-throat an audience for 110 minutes with "I Love You"s.

Since today is the last day of the play, I can't exactly advise anyone not to go anymore, but I would advise no one to go to another play directed, created OR produced by Colin Kirton.

No more abuse please Mr Kirton. My mind can not fathom how you created such atrocities.

Sick & Tired

I realized I haven't been updating my blog. That's because I haven't exactly gotten the free time to be able to write. I miss having the days when I pour my heart and soul into my writing. Now it just seems like a chore.

I'm currently down with a bad cold and cough. My body's still trying to adjust to the early mornings and constant contact with sick refugees and asylum seekers. For the past 2 to 3 weeks, I've gotten an eye infection, a severe case of food poisoning (thanks to Original Kayu at Aman Suria and their Paper Tosik) and fever and now this. Gar. I hate being sick.

In the mean time, I've been trying to brush up my photography and Photoshop skills. Check this out.

Work just never seems to end....

Thanks to Lean Kee for taking the photo.

I also took quite a few photos at the Transsexual Beauty Pageant organized by Pink Triangle Foundation held at Flamingo Hotel.

The photos can be seen here.

I'm loving Miss USA. She's my visual orgasm.

Anyway, I've been uploading quite a bit on my Facebook account. I think I should stop for now and concentrate on more serious stuff.

But what?

Office-tics

When one enters a room full of people with strong and different personalities, there would definitely be heads that butt each other, bitchiness, snide comments and the worst of it all; politics.

It all starts with just one unpleasant person.

One person to stir shit up for the whole team.

One person to wreak harmony between colleagues.

Just one.

In the team that I'm working in right now there are 3 unpleasant people. So you can imagine what sort of shite the team goes through.

A bitch who doesn't know when to shut her trap, brags about the fact that she knows my boss and gives people looks of dis-approval. Given the opportunity, she would talk endlessly about how she is better than others and even when no one is speaking to her, she would butt into conversations despite not knowing what we're talking about.

A bastard who if BFFs with the bitch and is a complete waste of time and space. No one understands his "jokes" and is an opportunist, given the fact that he's my supervisor's personal ASSistant and told her personally that he does not want to shifted around jobs in my team so he could have that ounce of power over people. I found out today that the feeling is mutual between him and I and he has been bitching behind my back (about what I have yet to find out) like the dog that he is.

An asshole who does not take initiative to do any work, who's always slowing down the team and because of him, the whole team has to stay back till about 6 - 6.45PM when work finishes at 4. He passes work to other people and doesn't seem to understand simple english.

These three people are on my list.

I am going to avoid talking to these three people as much as possible. Less things to talk about, less conflict. So I'm going to be happy with the people I work with, be efficient, helpful whenever I can and ignore fuckers so I don't have to deal with them.

See no evil and speak to no evil.

By the way, did I mention this is my 3rd week on the job?

The horror.

Shooting And Plotzing

The weekend seemed to have passed in such a hurry. I did not even seem to have gotten any sleep throughout the days.

Then again there's no rest for the wicked.

Last night was a splendidly random. I went for dinner at Little Paris in SS2, food there is yummers, then out of no where a couple of friends and I decided to take a trip down to PutraJaya. I decided in my head to bring my camera as well as some props; a spontaneous photo shoot.

I love random photo shoots. The last one I did was at a playground during Hungry Ghost Festival, and I followed the theme and played around with the colours during Photoshop.

This time around, I wanted to fuse architecture and death and ghouls together. So I grabbed my Venetian mask, the Japanese robe I got from Cambodia (Why it was sold there? Don't ask me), the paddy field straw hats and my huge ass red fan. I don't think I did a good job but it was fun playing around with angles and stuff.

I also wanted to write a story along with the shots I took but I have work tomorrow and I'm too lazy to write.

And it's getting late.

I should get some sleep before my hectic day tomorrow.

Auto Mobility

A couple of months ago, I sold off my car because I didn't see a point in my family having 3 cars when petrol prices were increasing and my car was creating problems for me in terms of maintenance.

Today, I have a small pea-sized sense of regret because I've recently gotten a job that is quite far from my area. I have no means of travel; public transportation such as buses and trains are out of the question because there are no buses or trains around my area as well as where my office is located. So I have to rely on the notorious cabs in Malaysia.

My parents offered to get me a car, which I forcefully declined because honestly, I want to make it on my own. I know I'm not getting much but my 3 month plan is to move out of the house and rent my own place, and hopefully be able to survive within my earnings.

To be realistic and yet idealistic, I cannot rely on my parents forever. My fear of finances have already started to creep into my life and I rather not enhance it by taking a loan from my parents and pay them each month for next couple of years. If my parents are not around, I would not be able to get a loan from the bank in the first place so why should I take advantage of the situation now?

I'm filled with middle class guilt and I'm punishing myself through these means to be able to achieve what I can call my own in life. But somehow I feel like I'm going to give up and go back into my comfort zone of being taken care of by my parents.

Cabs take about 1/4 of my salary and it is unreliable, renting a car is too expensive, driving my parents car would take away my credibility at work, and I would have to get out at 4.30 in the morning to take public transportation.

I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't.

Gar...