Some Thoughts...

Recently an article in one of the newspapers I was reading caught the corner of my eye. The article which I now believe was quoted by a third-party, the third-party being the paper which I was reading which I think was The Sun mentioned about the North Korean football team being a bunch of students. It was supposedly quoted by a South African journalist after the DPRK's recent tour of South Africa whereby the lost to South Africa's Premier Soccer League team, Supersport United as well as the national team of Zamibia. Both losses were by a margin that is equivalent to a trashing.

Having read the article, I can't help but think about the fortunes of our national women football team which is garnering headlines for all the wrong reasons at the current moment due to their less-then sterling performance at the recent SEA Games in Vientianne, Laos. If the North Korean's were students, then our national women's team must be made up of spastics. First was a complete total demolition by the Thai women national team by a whitewash scoreline of 14-0. The total humiliation invited criticism from all quarters, some no doubt to be of an extremely prejudicial as well as sexist manner if we were to based on the things wrote on blogs which I've read about the drubbing. Perhaps the most famous critic of the humiliation was Youth and Sports Minister Datuk Ahmad Shabery Cheek who said:

"It is also a reminder to the Olympic Council of Malaysia (OCM) to have proper standards in place and not field teams because the financial capability allows it. The nation's image is at stake."

I can't help but feel that it is slightly sexist considering that if we were to bring up the context of the nation's image, then the self-destruction of our men's national football team is certainly of a larger embarrassment by several degrees isn't it? Languishing somewhere in the FIFA rankings with the likes of St. Kitts & Nevis as well as Cambodia? Hmm... certainly very face-saving for the nation's image, no?

Drabbles

I just woke up from a epilepsy induced deep sleep, pretty much a complete coma that send me spiraling an endless stairwell of dreams since coming back from watching Ninja Assassin. Now, Ninja Assassin is not exactly the kind of movie that I'll be enthusiastically jump about for, mainly because, personally I reckon that movies with titles that are portmanteaus of two occupations basically are full of shit. Well surprise, surprise Ninja Assassin was pretty much that kind of movie. It does have some saving values though, I wasn't interested in plowing through an ala Deep Thoughts flick after doing some serious Deep Thoughts of my own on my Evaluating Financial Risk exam paper before the movie. It was pretty much alright, the theoretical questions were not exactly that mind boggling as I had expected before. The calculative questions were solvable, a few careless mistakes here and there but I think I did alright.

Anyways Ninja Assassin was all blood, gore, innards and the occasional flying limb or too. It was pretty much a blood fest... yet a failure to be called a genuine true massacre. After the second fight scene or so, the initial gore fiesta started to get dreadfully dull and dreary, painfully boring and not squeamish enough. I mean the whole point of making a blood fiesta massacre flick is to at least make the audience wince, not make it look like a bad case of CGI graphics gone wrong.

Final Destination anyone?

But it was palatable enough for me to sit down and stay quiet for the otherwise hour and a half duration of the movie. It was brainless enough to allow me to to unwind the otherwise perma-damage of formulae and annotations on dividend policies yet not mindless enough for me to actually walk out of the theater which I almost came close to doing when watching Disaster Movie the previous year which was a disastrous suggestion by a college mate.

Moving on, I drop dead on my bed upon reaching home, the sweet calls of having my brain enter perma-REM mode was too difficult to ignore. Woke up a few hours later to play Dissidia before sending myself back to sleep again. Woke up again, watched an interesting dialogue, which I'm still watching at this point of blogging this post down about the Message & Image Portrayed by Angry Youths on CCTV9. It's pretty much an interesting dialogue on the dissent and grievance of young adults and youths in China whereby they gathered to protest against the slow relief efforts taken by the Party in aiding Wenchuan earthquake victims. Makes for pretty interesting watching, rather intellectually stimulating if you ask.

Going down to KL 7 hours from now for Earth Wind and Fire.

I'm so going to be grooving my male genitalia tonight.

Dancing in September

My daily cycle is pretty much an unending chain of psychedelic infused strobes at this moment. Playing repetitively like a good recorder gone bad.

I shocked my mother by waking up in yesterday's clothes which I conveniently forgot to changed after falling onto bed like a rotten egg. Wasted cannot begin to define my condition as I felt totally washed out. Pretty much due to my daily cycle. The daily grind often begins with me waking up sometime around 9.00am to 10.00am, all pettifoggery as though I've had the world's biggest hangover the night before while scrambling blindly for either the mobile, the notebook or snitching of with my sister's PSP once again for a few rounds of Dissidia. Then it would be pretty much lunch and jetting of to college for the skulduggery of a studying session lasting 9 hours into 12.00am at night before coming home all wasted and throwing myself into bed again. Good thing all this hard work is translating into positive results in my exams or else I would have done a jugular on somebody.

Might I add though that Dissidia is pretty much mind-bogglingly addictive at the moment? I shall have to blog a well-in depth article ala GameFaq or IGN class reviews for it the next time I decide to blog.

Earth Wind & Fire concert this upcoming Thursday in KL. If all goes well with the ticket booking I'll be grooving the night away. The pricing is a bitch though. Usually I'm all pretty much nonchalant over paying extravagantly for performances by "international superstars" but Earth Wind & Fire are pretty much so last 30 years ago. RM158.o0 being the cheapest pricing one can get kinda puts it on the same wave length with that of performances by more contemporary artists. That's not to say I'm dissing the band though, Earth Wind & Fire still have enough in them to make me want to dance in September.

Alright the paragraph above has puns all over, spot them kiddies.

On another footnote, Arsenal played like complete neurotic arses in yesterday's match-up which I happened to tune into before throwing myself onto bed. Decent early 2nd half attacking all let down by completely buggery in front of the posts. Drogba pretty much deserved the Man-of-the-Match award. Chelsea persevered throughout the match so kudos all around to the Blues. I'll have to agree with Shaun on the fact that Ancelotti is pretty much holding is cool at the moment, let's see how he performs as the the season moves on.

He'll probably do a Benitez once the pressure sinks in.

All The King's Men...

... couldn't put Humpty Dumpty back together again.

A little nursery rhyme from my distant past that I remembered. Aptly describes my little situation now. In the Mr. Dumpty's case, he's pretty much an idiot for sitting on a wall considering that his frame is about as fragile as an emo's heart on Valium. Correlating it back to my case, I'm pretty much the idiot in this situation for even bothering to actually start acting nice for once considering that my senses are actually tactless enough to not give two fucks in the first place.

But I must digress.

After all, it's always better in having contacts despite them contacts being pretty nonchalant about any issue that I bring up. Stepping away from my digression, I must say that today has been pretty good so far. Waking up this morning was less painful then I thought it would be. Granted I'm not the most brightest bundle of sunshine in the morning but at least I am able to drag myself up without the need of downloaded alarm clocks from the web or without sounding like Regan MacNeil in the Exorcist. Yeah I'm pretty much talking about my college mates, go figure who they are. Speaking of the Exorcist, I'm all for opinion that the scariest shit of the whole show is the whole peeing on the floor thing. Well besides the practically non-existent plot line which I think its pretty horrifying in itself that such a listless movie would set the genre for the craptacular B-grade excuses for horror movies we have in the theaters these days. Anyway seriously, peeing on anyway near urinals or toilet bowls is not exactly palatable to me. Urinals in men's public toilets are major turn downs and before anyone starts lecturing me about being a prima donna, go pee all over the floor and get anyone to dance on it (sans golden shower fetishists) before you start chastening me.

Where was I?

Ah yes, waking up in the morning, I managed to drag myself uncomplainingly out of my bed this morning, maybe the effects of having electric drills as early morning calls have knocked waking up early in to my system. The day of my tax examination and I was switching between watching a repeat broadcast of the MTV European Music Awards the night before and doing some last minute mugging. Speaking of which taxation seems easier this semester compared to the one in semester 3. Shaun's explanation that perhaps because I have already one semester's worth of taxation practicing and basics knocked senselessly into my head that perhaps I find tax to be seamlessly less confounding then the previous semester's could be an explanation. If i may be so bold, I might even think that I actually did quite alright in tax for this semester, hopefully my "bold" (some people tend to prefer to interpret this term as an intention to boast) predictions would not fail me. Otherwise it would pretty much be disappointing, no? Take into consideration the effort I've put in for tax.

This post was pretty much left hanging the previous night before, had a night out due to semi-post-examination celebration at of all places, the utopia of geekdom, NetCity. I was hoping that they would've stocked up on Left4Dead2 since I've been anticipating to finally start hacking down decaying necrophiliacs with a machete but it was pretty much a disappointing outing. I was hopelessly pawned in Counter Strike once again, I'm just god awful in that. I did bump into Noel though and he seems to be doing pretty well. TAR. Accounting. Happy geek. Enjoying his life and all.

Yang: So how're you? Where're your studying now?
Noel: TAR. Went there straight after Form Six.
Yang: TAR... accounting?
Noel: Stereotyping again? What's with you on stereotyping anyway?
Yang: Touche.

Pretty much everyone associates TAR with accounting, can exactly blame me that although I'm pretty sure TAR produces excellent graduates in other fields as well.

And I've pretty much changed the layout on my blog if anyone cares to notice, the previous homosexually-charged camp layout's starting to wear out of me after a while.

And I realized its been two years I've started blogging, lets see if I'll continue updating this otherwise lifeless empty husk.

Archaic Transliteration

I've never felt this way in a long long while. Part of me, wait scrap that every nerve of me is wondering out the question, repetitively playing again and again in my head, why, why, why? Perhaps I could just sit here and ponder and ponder till dawn about it but its not going to change much is it?

3.26AM and the clock's a-ticking. A sudden realization hit me that I haven't been blogging much these days. Nuffnang's been sending me bouts of emails about their events and activities, supposedly "kang tao" for those in the blogosphere. But coming to think about it, I used to be overly enthusiastic about being able to blog. Write down emotions, words and whatnots into this digitized form. Now a days I realized that I preferred to mop about my own emotions deep within me rather then translate them out.

Pretty much an archaic translation if one stops and think about it.

Perhaps its because I've lost my will to really write down everything here. Perhaps I should start adhering more towards doing so, at least it'll enable me to pour stuff out rather then keep them cooped-up within me.

Granted the stuff I write here is practically lost in translation towards anyone other than me who reads them most of the time, yet at least its a place for me to vent out whatever I'm feeling, whether I'm frustrated, annoyed, happy or any swipe of ecstasy or moodiness that decides to take control within this pallet of my emotions.

Perhaps I'll be returning here more often from now on.

I'm feeling some severe indifference at the moment, granted the other side probably does not even bother a single thing about this matter but yet I'm feeling indifferent about it? I wonder, perhaps I've allowed attachment till the point whereby any single act of defiance or ignorance gives me this indifferent vibe?

But then someone has mentioned this time and time again, and I hear her words resonating within me every now and then about this matter.

Greed.

I doubt its greed that the other half is really there for, more like an opportunist to me. Problem is I already knew about this way back long ago when the first acts of ignorance start to crop up yet I find myself repeating them again and again. For the fact is, taking advantage and having powerful networks is what one would strife for but what about those that have no source of linkage towards opportunistic tail-ends or good fortune? What about those sources that are just they are?

Smart.

Cunning if I may touch there. Perhaps the indifference in me is really as it is, stupid. Perhaps I really haven't learn my lesson after all and I'm bound to repeat it again and again while the ignorance would last longer and longer and longer.

I'm considering doing things, things I know that I would only grow to regret but I does make me wonder after all.

I'll never understand I guess.

How I hate this.

Everything needs to be titled these days. So what happens to those untitled?

2 years down and counting.

It has been pretty abysmal so far I guess, physical changes aplenty, perhaps in ones that can be seen yet deep down in the core no anjakan paradigma going on there.

Anjakan paradigma = perubahan or rather its English counterpart paradigm shift.

Heh.

One of those few Malay bombastic terms that I spam again and again in my Malay essays way back in high school. If there is ever an opening to insert big loud word that would rake up a few marks in kosa kata, insert anjakan paradigma for best results.

Moving away from that, pretty much no change has occur. I still find myself being same as how I was way back then. Way back before any of these physical changes start moving into my life. How I changed, how i remained the same. Pretty much parallel among the lines there, I still find myself being reluctant to engaged socially or as active as then, preferring to being a recluse within.

Forced.

Wasn't to my taste anyway, forcing myself to actually enjoy when I was disgusted within. Perhaps it all stems down to my initiation towards stereotyping or categorizing within a box people and their antics. Perhaps that's what the whole problem, certainly something that a few V.S.O.P's are not going to cure. Ironically I named myself Chivaslicious for a bunch of games I started playing recently.

I had my first one back 2 years ago. Eager. Willing. Enjoyed the company. Casual. Friends. They're pretty much fleeting. Ephemeral. Fun-factor loss. Then I realized that I was starting to get disgusted by it all and I stopped going anymore.

Haven't clubbed for 390 days.

Yeah i do keep tracked of them, lifeless I'm not.

Then its not like most people understand what's lifeless anyway beyond their mere comprehensiveness of it being used to describe the generic stereotypical loner. The unfriendly one. The odd one out. The straggler.

Then I counter, how much of life does one have when one realizes that the generic stereotypical fame that one achieves is but a hollow entity bought on by money? How much life does one find in the fallacy that your friends show you and the fact that you're but enjoying something that's temporal?

Then again I was thought of as a weakling and its not like I'm able to start proving things the other way right?

A recluse, a loner, an enigma, poker face.

Well I'm not going to be dong anything stupendous soon so don't expect any Squall Leonhartish kinda stuff. Fantasies and day dreams are aplenty there but quiet singular recluses are not all going to start whipping out gun blades and do some save-the-day kind of stuff. Similarly not all Asians are Jackie Chans and all Afro-Americans are Tupac Shakur.

Kelvin accompanied me yesterday night, he seemed content with his new Final Fantasy Dissidia which he was talking animatedly about before the batteries decided to run aground.

Pretty much describes me really. When I decided to run aground.

I had an unexpected phone call this morning. Woke me up at 8.30am. Its been several months or so since I heard her voice.

How are you?

Might be coming back sometime near Christmas, a week's break.

Doing fine, classes start 2 weeks later. Registration next week.

Random, just asking how are you?

Alyssa called. And after all that history admittedly I had forgotten all about her with everything occupying my head these days being felt like lead. Guess one really drifts apart when one's only connection happens to be through online. Talking with her, I realized that I never met up with a few friends at all when they're back recently in Penang.

Have to catch-up next time they do come back, I do owe favors after all.

Peiying's gone off to study, just like a few bunch of people I know in this busy university blues month. Then again she's the only now that's able to make me shed tears. Not my male ego clashing against my inner self but admittedly I failed to really cry when she left. Failure to cry however does not prevent me from being slightly mournful though. Her innocence and bountiful happiness is what makes her refreshing, helps me keep my optimism up, as she's just a little ball of sunshine that keeps me going and happy.

Mosquitoes biting me while I ponder on how best to form the next string of thoughts into words.

And I realized that I don't know how to anyway, which pretty much describes how I feel about my next course of action these days.

Those Dreams

Now there comes every now and then someone, just anyone, any random person who was strike by an inspiration. His eyes gleaming with perseverance, his marrow forged with determination, his heart goal-bounded, his mind dances towards rhythms of epic songs and paeans of his imminent glory that he'll achieve.

But what is one when failure seems to follow like a ravaging plague that tears through this dream that he possesses? And what is one when this failure is self-brought, due to his own reluctance and pessimism? And what if his initial ecstasy and willpower to set an earthly plateau for his own casa signorile is brought down by his own doing? Leaving it all but a castle in the sky?

What happens when slacker's dream?

What happen when they dare dream, dream the dreams of powerful individuals of rising phoenixes? What happens when they dare to envision the Cinderella stairs that they'll never be able to summoned that willpower to build?

And we all know it just ends with failure don't we?

Yet these individuals, they dare to dream, dreams that they all want to achieve, yet they allow their own self-wrought pessimism to plague them, they allow the crumble of their tools to create those mansions, and most of all they allow themselves to be complacent.

Epic fail, no?