I was having dinner with my buddies in Bangsar at this Indian restaurant (name's skipped my mind right now) when I realized I didn't have much cash on hand. Luckily, there was this ATM right behind our table so withdrawing cash was not really a problem.

Walking away from the ATM with cash in hand, I saw another goldmine.

A Da Vinci Exhibition??

Like, whoa.

Here, in KL. Like, double whoa.


Being the romantic sod that I am, I think I'm going there with my girl when it opens. Which begs the question, WHEN, exactly. And to be honest, I actually forgot about this exhibition until Vivi pointed it out to me, so I'm here to spread the word.

Whatever it is, don't block my camera if you see me there.
So here are the details.


The When: 1st Oct 2009 ~ 17 Jan 2010
The Where: National Science Centre, Bukit Kiara
The "How much?"



For more info, the official word can be found at the official site (clicky here).

So do yourselves a favor and go visit. I know I won't regret it.

Being an exhibition, you won't get nudity or anything of those sort (Randall sounds disappointed) but think about it - it's not often you get to see these sort of things upclose.

Btw, if you spread the word, you may get free tickets, courtesy of this kind man over here. Check out his link for further details. GO GO GO!!


Guys, you'll have to excuse Blogdrive's formatting. I still don't know how to fix that shit. At least it's still readable. Kan? XD

Sometimes, I think the world would be a whole lot better if there was a place for idiots. Separate from ours, of course.

Preferably like, far away from me.

As much as I do NOT enjoy writing out the sort of things I am about to write today, I will.





Every year, July marks the beginning of my torturous half of the year, all the way to October. Every fucking year. Without missing a beat.


What I really need right now is a miracle to make things look at least a bit better.




Miracles are as blue as pigs flying in the sky.

Perhaps when it comes to the issue of problems, human uniformity can be clearly seen in the best way to tackle it - OHSHITZNAZRUNAWAY!

Running away.

When it comes to issues of mortality, run.
Sniper aiming for your head, run.
Mailman seeking your signature, run.
Radio doesn't work, run.
You stutter on-stage, run.


Running is a time-honored method of dealing with problems. Casually started with first putting yourself at quite the distance from said adversary, usually at a very high pace of speed. This action usually involves using a lot of energy, and is always draining for the user of the technique.


Running away from any problem gives the person much needed relief. What we fail to mention is that this relief is usually temporary in nature as it very much depends on what you were running away from in the first place, the runner's environment, and the condition of the runner.

For example, while running away from a 2-legged platypus is virtually easy and may provide you with good results, running away from the police may or may not help.




Sometimes, it is the act of running itself that hurts. You, and the people around you. So what you should do is try, try, try to bring things back to a slower pace. Look at it from a different angle, and hope for the best.



The biggest problem with running is that it solves nothing.

It's not good for me.

So it's not much of a surprise if you don't want to sit on the lemon tree.

The burden of your weight alone is enough to break the lemon tree. Let's not forget the burden you carry on your shoulders. Poor lemon tree.


Let's talk about feelings.

A special post dedicated to a certain someone who reveres in the awesomeness that makes up my very fiber.

Sometimes, feelings are like gateways to affection.

Without first declaring it, you can't really show the other person everything that you have to offer. Simply because we have rules and borders that separate each and every one of us from the other. Successfully declaring it AND having it returned means you get to go all out. Conversely speaking, you gain the right to show more feelings. Now, if you were to think from a rational point of view, it's nothing new. In Grouchspeak, it means you get to put in more smooches in between the silent pauses. But you see, when it comes to feelings, it is never an rational thing.

It's all about emotions.


But feelings change right?


What then?


Sometimes walls are there to remind you. Good quote.
Written by a friend to another. Thanks.


A little R&R can do wonders to the human... err... being.

Take a break.
Have a kid and a cat.




How would you feel if someone you really cared about hurt you?

Devastated, I bet.

Imagine if it was something like having the biggest lie of the universe spammed into your face, as if it never happened at all. So why do people lie?

Scientists/economists, whatever, not that it really matters anyway say it's because of incentives. The bigger the incentive, the more likely people lie. So what are incentives?


Something that you want?




What if it was something that you need?



What if it was something that you desperately needed to have in your life, but know you may never get it if you don't lie.... incentives run higher, and we tend to lie. So what is truth? Truth is something that happened. An opposite to a lie.

So conversely speaking, in order to get something, we have to rely on a 'nothing'. And it's ironically funny how some people get away with it. And how ironically deserving that the others don't.

That brings us to the topic: A white lie.

Just how white is a white lie? A lie is a lie, no matter what form of incentives we dangle in front. There's nothing white about lying. But if there is no white in the first place, then there can be no black either.

Judging morality is never easy. Perhaps that is why we have feelings. No matter how much we try to isolate morality and feelings, it always seems to be the little hook holding up the shelf. But one wonders if they really work hand in hand, as the burden of the big fat ass that was on the lemon tree earlier moves on to the bookshelf and breaks the small hooks we call feelings.



So... can you lie to your feelings?




How about this then: can you lie to the one who have feelings for you?

I did, and now I have crumbled. Learn this lesson well for a broken shelf does not go up ever again. Not by itself. If there were no hooks left, there'll be nothing left to hold it up ever again.

Never again.

Isolation is not good for me.

I used to think parents have the answers to everything.

They were an unstoppable force, and nothing is beyond their comprehension. It doesn't matter what problem you have, parents always seem to have a solution. They were invincible. Invulnerable, even. If you had a bee sting on your forehead, you do this. If you scrape your knee, apply concoction A. if you feel feverish, concoction X will do the trick. Everything had an answer.


Now try walking around barefooted.

When my dad didn't know how to tell us my mom was really sick, he was also at a loss. At least I would guess so. Imagine growing up idolizing a superhero, only to realize that even superheroes stub their toes at the kitchen cabinet and bleed.

It all started with a phone call from the hospital, telling us to get there ASAP because you were sick. Your room was an unnerving symphony of klaxons and beeps. The pulse reader on your finger kept giving out error readings and the numbers on the ECG were never consistent.

We took turns reciting the Yassin to your ears because it was your favorite verse but I think you were under sedation. Even so, the pain was clearly written on your face. My sister was obviously crying, and I was trying very hard to put up a strong front, even when I can feel all my heart strings being tugged upon. Perhaps acting made it all so much easier.


"Why is everyone laughing?" the little boy asked.

"They find him funny," she replied. It was the boy's very first theater show, and he was watching Keris Laksamana Bentan. One of the palace guards had this uncanny ability to keep a straight face while announcing the arrivals of characters for the Sultan. There were many more shows to follow. It eventually led to the boy involving himself heavily in the performance arts. Something that will eventually be a major part in his future, the very stones of a foundation that will later greatly define the boy's life philosophy when he grows up.

I thought I could get on with acting that nothing affects me. At least not much. I thought. I should at least try to be strong for this one. I still think I am the best actor in the world in this one particular play.

We used to have all these boards with wildlife species listed on it. Pictures included. The one that really caught my eye, and shape a very big part of my early life was the one on marine life. Now that I think about it, it sure does sound funny when you think about everything again. I started out my university career, very sure that I want a career in marine biology but ended up in social sciences instead. There is still that small part of me wondering how things would turn out if I were persistent enough. Or stubborn enough.


All this waiting, it really sucks.

The mix of emotions and thoughts, dread, and hope, all in that one little room filled with beeps. The hardest part was waiting for something to happen. Maybe a miracle, maybe a scientific breakthrough, maybe just… something.


Every minute or so, the breathing machine thing resuscitator or whatever you call it would give off a very loud beep. The nurses say it was not supposed to happen, but since the machine is working fine, we decided to just bear with it.



I wonder what's on your mind right now. I wonder what do you hear, feel or see right now. Can you feel the tubes sticking to your skin? Can you hear us?

What are your current thoughts?

I think everyone would want that kind of power lah, okay?

The young man just looks at her. They were talking about what kind of powers would people want the most, and have just came upon the conclusion that the ability to read minds and emotions is the most priceless power you can ever have. He would like very much to use it on someone, to know what her feelings for him are because it's the answer he wants very much at that point of life. He looks at the girl, and she gives him a nod of approval.

Damn, now that's a very cool power to have.


Packets upon packets replaced on the IV drip and still, no change. I was secretly hoping, no, praying that you will be okay. Simply because I think dad's going to be very lonely once you're gone. If you were to go away. He will no longer have a Qigong partner. No one else to bash Malaysian politics with while watching the news on TV. He will no longer have someone to…. I don't know, maybe just 'no longer has that someone'.

Preposterous, she said.

The boy looked up at her. Why?
"Because it is his job. If you are a lecturer, so you should do what a lecturer should do. You can be so much more but you can never forget that you are a lecturer."

It was a talk about ethics, about how someone should do the things they should do. This was in response to a certain lecturer who was always busy with his moonlighting.

Do what you're supposed to do, she added. That's how you move on.




I kept my fingers crossed that you would actually spring back and shout April's Fool even though it was already June, laughing out loud because you pulled one over us. You never did.  



"I've never seen you cry. Come to think of it, I've never seen you laugh either."

The girl's words hit him like a truck.

She was always the one with the deep observations, and the right words to make their conversations flow seamlessly every time they met. It was always just right when it was the two of them

He was 5 or 6, running outside his house doing what other boys his age would do if you give them space – practically anything possible. Suddenly, this one insect landed on the boy's forehead. Without even thinking twice, he gave it a good slap.

Apparently, bees are not meant to be slapped, and the boy just learned how biology and common sense go hand in hand, the hard way. A big swelling developed on his forehead and he ran to his mom, crying. The first thing she did?

Laugh like mad.

The boy stopped crying and laughed along with her, even though he had no idea what was going on. The swelling on the forehead was starting to feel pretty cool too. The story lived on in the many years to come.



Yes sir, right now.


You have to wake up. I bought a lot of books recently, and some of them are cookbooks. I bought them thinking we can work on it on Sundays like we used to do when I was a little boy. I have this one cookbook on chocolate, one on bread, one on other random stuffs. I think I've got all the bases covered.

We just have to wait for a Sunday.

We continue taking turns reciting the Yassin. I see you close your eyes when it was my elder brother's turn. I noticed that the ECG too, no longer works. I vividly remember telling myself that they should really do something about all these 'faulty' machines they have here. The beeps were driving us restless. I played with your pulse reader and put my finger inside, and the error messages no longer appear. A proper reading came out. I put it back on your finger, and the same error message keeps on coming out. That's when I received a phone call from a friend, asking if everything was okay.

Yeah, things are good now, I told him. She just started sleeping, after all.

When I got back into the room, we REALLY noticed the ECG. It was flat. My dad was consistently checking for a pulse, asking the others to confirm if they too, felt it. She was still breathing after all, so we thought it could be another faulty machine thing. So he called in a doctor.

The first thing the doctor did was feel around her neck. His fluid, casual movements suddenly stopped its momentum as he suddenly shifted into a faster, almost robotic pace. He put his stethoscope on, and was looking for a heartbeat. I thought to myself, things will be okay even though a small part of me already feared for the worst. After all, I've known you all my life and I rarely see people more stubborn than you. You're too stubborn to die. Persistent would be a kinder word but since I'm your son, I still have the right to make fun of you, like we always do during football matches because you were a non-Liverpool fan.




When he opened your already closed eyes, I somehow knew that the truth has already made itself known. Looking up, the doctor said in a very soft voice that you were no longer with us. I guess sometimes stubbornness is not a factor.





That baking Sunday will never come by. You were gone, just like that. Peaceful maybe but it was... somewhat sudden. IS THAT IT? Just like that, and you were gone? Isn't there a better way? I was thinking about how unfair this was but then I realized, this was also the first time you looked so healthy compared to your previous bouts with the hospital.


Waking up this morning, it all felt like a bad dream, and I was half-expecting to see you down there at the newspaper table reading Brenda Starr, which I still think is one of the worst comics ever made. Instead, I only see you wrapped in white, motionless, and the only thing I can read on your face was the peace and serenity forever written into the wrinkles of your face.

She asked, "You joking or what?" He wasn't sure what to say.
Thankfully, the line got cut off for a brief few seconds, enough for him to gather his thoughts, his composure, and reply to the rest of her questions. "Eh, sorry about just now." "Oh it's okay. I'm used to you already," he said with a very big grin on his face. There were laughter on both sides of the phone.

I'm used to having you around and it will feel awkward from this point hereon.
I had so many thoughts I wanted to jot down when it was all happening but right now the only thoughts I have are of the future. I seriously wonder what it will be like without you here. I think it's difficult to adjust to this new life now but like I always say, "Give it a chance."

It'll all work out.


I started the day losing my wallet, and ended it with losing you. I still don't know where my wallet is but at least I know where to find you.



Maybe part of the answer to everything was simply just by being with you.

It's funny how most of us can put up with certain lies for a very long time.


Especially the ones that concern their own feelings and other people.

So why can't we just say it out for them to know?

I think you should know.

Some of life's questions are of the repeating kind.

Take for example, this one:
How do you explain irony to someone who doesn't know what it means?

Sure, you can give her all the definitions you have but chances are it's still a concept lost on her, much akin to explaining the whole storyline of the Legacy of Kain series. Okay, that was a bit exaggerated but you know it's THAT hard.

Humor is a bone to pick.


So there I was, trying to tell her what Irony is all about. I would probably have better results doing so with a platypus but there weren't any around in the vicinity.



Now, the platypus.

THAT's what I call irony. A creature out of time. A duck with claws that gives birth. A wildcard. A free-spirited animal that is unbound by common sense but strangely enough, still has its place in the world.

Now that's what I call irony.



So uh... back to the story.

I eventually found out it wasn't the concept of irony that got her confused but rather, the relationship between sunset and sunrise.


Now that's another story to tell.



Another irony written into the very fabric of time itself.

How can it be that for one to be appreciated, another must make way?

A sad relationship where they can never be with each other, and yet, their breathtaking abilities are one to behold. It sure makes you wonder what it will be like to see it side by side.

But alas, it never happens.

Because no matter how beautiful they are (even if they could be together), they just shouldn't be together because that would just be a sign of the worst things to come.

Is that the irony we were looking for?

---

Masquerade balls are sexy and romantic.

Waltzing through packed ballrooms filled with grandeur and festivities. It's hard not to drown in the music, the atmosphere, and of course, the people. The ones wearing masks. The masks. Everybody has one, be it for game or for leisure. Wouldn't it be fun to have everyone wearing a mask, even for non ballroom occasions? You can't really tell who is who, and the hunt becomes more exciting...until the unmasking begins.

Either you end up scoring with a hot lady, or with another guy. Good or bad, you decide. Just like the masks that you choose to wear today. Do I wear the smile today? Or should I just wear the wookie mask to go along with the wookie snarl?

A mask. Facade, some may insist but the illusion that sets apart reality and fantasy are just as obscure as lies and truth. Separated by mere words that none shall understand, never mind the lettering used. After all, letters make no sense to the ones who are not supposed to read it.

Who then to read it?

Masks, who's to leave home without it? It's like being caught in public with your pants down. In a bad way.

Maybe that's why masquerades are so much fun.

Because of the masks.


This moon here, where is the bunny on top?

Blogrolling is back.

Yeay!

I'm back. Maybe. Who knows?

I sure don't.

---

Let's talk about something.

How about people?
We haven't done that in quite a while.
The Holier Than Thou attitude is probably still around. Probably.




....




....




So I say but it does get old pretty quick, doesn't it?

My mind is an empty fishing net, and I'm plankton-hunting.

I need a piano.

---

Life's pretty funny.

For a very big part of my life, I have always considered time as one of my biggest enemy.

Time, never enough for me.
I seem to spend the days with shorter hours as I find more and more things to do. Things that urgently require my undivided attention. A bit impossible to achieve when you only have 8 hours in a day. Not meant to be taken literally but I hope you have enough mental capacity to understand what I'm trying to say.

Time, never right for me.
Yup. Me and time, we have a working relationship. Actually, it's more of a NOT-WORKING-AT-ALL-SO-WHY-ARE-WE-TRYING kind of relationship. I used to think I have everything planned out. All that was left to do is just wait for it to happen. It never happened because I was waiting for the right circumstances.

It's just wrong that way.

It'll never work because you have to make it happen. Somehow. One way or another.

It sometimes feels like being a bad sniper. Target in my sights, and yet, I can't even graze the paint chip off the wall behind him. If it wasn't for physics, I probably still can't hit the ground. Feels like something amiss, and when you spend some time thinking about it, it's because you were waiting for the right conditions. You can't really expect things to work out on its own... right?

Time, never kind to me.
I look in the mirror and I see wrinkles under my eyes. I used to think they were just eyebags from lack of sleep but time has once again proven that it has the one-upper on me. I look at my body and see that I have lost quite some muscles. I may still be thin, but I am not as lean. Time is dragging my body down, and I am finally starting to see its effects. Seeing a white clump of hair fall off my head during my last haircut certainly didn't help.

I just don't like this aging thing. Never did. I'm hitting the third decade soon enough and I still can't come to terms with myself. I had everything planned right. So what happened?

It's even worse as you see everyone else around you getting dragged down by that aging effect. What used to be easy like climbing up a flight of stairs soon turn into a mini hell for some.  I see people struggle with their newfound weaknesses and think, it'll be me next.

Let's not even talk about dreams.

Time, never ending.
You grow older, not-necessarily-wiser but definitely less angsty and do you have to say about life?

Nothing.

It's like watching reruns of Mr.Bean on TV.

You've seen it so many times but every time you watch an episode is like watching it for the first time. You think you would have been better. You think you know what's going to happen next. Of course it doesn't because time likes to do that to you. Makes you think that you are in control, and WHAM!

Time lets you know who's the boss.


Time has never been kind to me, so why should I be kind to Time, indeed?


Maybe because there's nothing left to choose.



And there is nothing more reassuring than the illusion of choice.

I really want to update my blog links.
I hope blogrolling can pick up the pace before I *gasp!* write out the links myself!
Or subscribe to a different service provider.

Oh fuck, RSS is just as good... so why bother?

Because I can.


###

SPOILER WARNING

This note may contain spoilers for the movie Inkheart.
Do not read if you are one of those fussy bastards who care about these sort of things.

SPOILER WARNING

###

Inkheart.


This movie is about a bookbinder named Mo (played by Brendan Fraser) who travels from place to place in search of a book. Now, Mo is not your average bookbinder (as can be evidently seen by the fact he's a major focus point in the movie... but hey, I'm no Spielberg. Oh wait, I'm watching this in a cinema! I'm sure he can do something else too!) because by reading things out loud, he can bring stuffs from inside the book to life. In this world, they're called Silvertongue.

I'm not exactly sure but I think ladies prefer diamonds and gold.

Anyway, back to Silvertongue.

Now, not exactly the kind of power most of us adrenaline-charged, macho type guys would ever want. Most of us would just prefer powers that induce  random wanton destruction like the ability to lift 1-ton trucks with the bat of an eye, or shooting laser beams out of your nostrils. Practically any 'cool' power that can also impress the ladies with (with the exception of William, who have always wanted to be like Invisible Woman, and I still don't know what he meant by that).

Uhhh.. back to Inkheart. The reason they've been traveling turns out to be: in search of the book Inkheart which can bring his wife back.

Wait wait wait.
Back from where?

Damn, you lousy reviewer, you.

Bringing things into the real world comes with a price (not of the economic sort) - when something comes out from the book into the real world, its place will be taken by a person in the real world. So here's the thing - Mr. Silvertongue read out loud, lost his wife, and is now looking for a way to bring her back. Along the way they meet new friends, new enemies, new plotholes bla bla bla the works, all leading up to the final showdown with the evil baddy.

Towards the end, as the story begins to hit that high note, and everyone was riding that wave of excitement as the baddies get knocked off one by one, I realized something.

I like happy endings.

The world becomes a better place, and everyone becomes happier.
I think I almost cried. Almost.


As we left the cinema, a sudden sense of trepidation crept up on me.

Damn.

I know this feeling.

It's the one I get every time I have a question. I may not know what the question is, but you can just feel it forming up in the back of your head like quick-dry foam in Grim Fandango.

And so, without even thinking, I opened my mouth:


Guys... I was just wondering."

Everyone turned around to look at me.


"What do you think will happen if he read out The Kama Sutra?"


I'm not exactly sure why but I am certain there's this part of me that suddenly wants to be a Silvertongue.