charlotte's web

charlotte's web is a story about friendship that we can all relate to. the compounding help of the animals in the farm is touching and the wit of charlotte who hatched up a plan to save wilbur's life, is commendable.

the first magic lies in the friendship between wilbur, a pig, and charlotte, a spider. they are different animals of different backgrounds and way of living. naturally, they do not share anything similar nor have a reason for a symbiosis relationship. they lived in different environment and have different diets. they do not share a common interest even. yet, amidst of all the differences, charlotte befriended wilbur and was willing to sacrifice herself to save a friend whom she just met for a few months.

it made me think about being prejudice we have against one another, back then and even now. this is where the first moral of the story lies. white wrote the story in 1952, a short period after WWII where most of the men are sent to war and women and blacks are allowed to work to keep the economy buoyant. there was a mixture of different ethnicity working in the factories doing simple and manual labour. this mixture has created friendship for some of them. and slowly homogenised the races together. it was also written shortly before the african-american civil rights was granted in america in 1968.

there is a stark similarity between the event that happened in america during that period and the ones seen in the barn. and as an ardent supporter of anti-segregation who wrote many essays on internationalism, white has deliberately, and wittingly, weaved his ideas into the fable he wrote; calling to his reader to see the redundancy of prejudism.

next is the use of obvious imageries and metaphors to convey the same motif.

set in a barn, it is reflective of the simple lives the people in america lived in then. they perform simple tasks and pursuit mandatory needs. the animals in the barn represented these people living in poor and rural conditions after the great depression and the basic work they kept doing to bounce back the economy. the setting is fitting for the situation it was back then and the menial tasks they perform to keep on going through the hardship.

also, the use of animals run by farmers draw a parallel image to the government-people setting. the people in the story are like the government as they represent the thinkers and shapers of the society while the animals represented the layman who worked around the fate given to them. the big decisions made in the story were done by the people e.g. the sending of wilbur to zuckerman's barn, zuckerman's decision to put wilbur into the county fair contest, the winner of the blue ribbon, the decision to award the special prize to wilbur for his 'miracles'. while the animals worked with the decisions and actions done by the people.

and the attitudes the animals had in the beginning were negative. they felt they had nothing more nor less from each other, as said by the old sheep "we're all the same, wilbur. we don't envy you." they were resigned to the unfortunate fate that had befallen on them. it was similar to what the americans felt during the post great depression and WWII. however, it was only after charlotte had decided to take on the responsibility to save wilbur's live the animals start to contribute their help. this cliche hero behaviour moved us and made us see the beauty and urgency to save an innocent's life (wilbur's).

it's something i was thinking of when i was doing the play.

rationalising reason

no. it's not true. it's not always true. you rationalise the reason. you thought through the reason and why it happened and you've come up with a rationale. you created that rationale. the rationale behind the reason was not there. it was never there. you made it there. you put it there. you made it up. you created that rationale. how am i supposed to believe you? you made me believe you. you made me believe what you said. you tricked me into believing what you said. how can i know that you are not lying to me? you made me see your point. and now, i cant see mine. i cant see anything but what you said. you made me believed you and now i lost faith in myself. you beast! you liar! what you said created a belief for me. something which i didnt have and now i cannot think! you made the reason up. you gave me the rationale. i hate you.

numbers and fear

1 in 4. 15 in 60. 25 in 100.

1 in 5. 50,000 in 250,000.

2 in 5. 40 in 100. 200 in 500.

what do they mean?

nothing to the layman like you and i. yet experts use these statistics to relay information that make us worry. why and how so?

looking at it empirically is like looking through a microscope; the image is enlarged. consequently, it becomes 'more obvious' and the and effect on us - the consumer - is inevitably greater. this is what the experts wanted. and, of course, providing such data make their arguments more convincing.

however, if you start expanding the numbers to greater numbers e.g. "1 in 4" becomes "25 in 100" and to "250 in 1000", and so forth, you see that the probability is lowered; much, much lower.

take for example a recent statistic on breast cancer in singapore. it states that "1 in 4 women have been diagnosed with breast cancer." take a population of 4.8mil (i round down to the nearest hundred thousand) in singapore and estimate that about 40% of the population are women, that would be around 1.9mil. you would then be among 480,000 women to be diagnosed with cancer. that is a big group of people but you could also be among the other 1.4mil who aren't going to be diagnosed. the odds are different for everyone. and this is ignoring other contributing factors. should you be so afraid?

i am not saying that you should forget about taking that mammogram or keep postponing it but don't let the "1 in 4" figure scare you to hysteria.

on a more general note, i think we should be aware of the math done and figures shown. the numbers have been simplified for our understanding. but the implication may create some misunderstanding.

betty and identity

i saw the last episode of the final season of ugly betty a couple of days ago. i had the urge to watch it again after reading a review about it. the writer said it was an eye opener to the latin culture in america and there has never been a series quite like it. besides making america ferrera a household name, it also introduced us the different perspective of the latin americans; away from the negative views that had been regretfully associated with them.

i watched a few episodes before the last to understand what had happened so far and also to see how has the show changed. it looks like there have been major changes to the show since its debut in 2007. in seasons 2 and 3, we 'lost' betty: she wasn't the same girl we first met and fell in love with and that would have probably caused the ratings to drop sharply. i was disappointed with the changes so i stopped watching after the first few episodes of season 3. it was when i got to know the season was going to end i decided to revisit the series.

however, i find that the producers manage to win back our hearts towards the end. we have a new looking betty but inside she is the same as who we first got to know her. she has become more successful and the stories of the other characters were well-developed before coming to a proper closing. (i shall not elaborate on their respective stories for it is too long) i would say that the show came full circle and i am very pleased with that.

and it brought back the central theme of the show: identity. betty won our hearts with her adorable personality and showing that it is important to be and remain true to ourselves regardless of the circumstances. this part of her come back in the final season after we see her losing it in seasons 2 and 3. we are who we we are. she showed us that in a difficult situation, the decision that most comforts us - though strange or opposing - is the best one. it may not be the right one - although rational - but if it seems wrong to our guiding principles we should not do it. it is because it not something that we would do ourselves.

and this inspiring theme inspired me to understand myself. it is only when i know who i am would i be able to make it through the toughest challenges. other people offer opinions and advice but the final decision has to come from inside. it seems easy but it is not. in a place where we are most vulnerable we allow ourselves to be influenced by outside voices making it worse. the only way to listen to ourselves is when we know and understand who we are. it is only then it is easier to separate distractions from our own venerable voices.

restless

i woke up today feeling different. nothing seems to have changed yet i don't feel right, as if i have been 'taken out'. i am afraid, lost and in pain. my mind was in a swirl and my body felt separated. it was distinctively different and i thought, in that instant, that maybe i should sleep in for a while more.

i woke up again, several hours later, feeling the same. i knew it wasn't going to be good day. and for the days to come, i will not have it good.

i took a shower and let the water ran.

it felt quite good just standing under the shower. i could think for a short while before i went back to the state i was in. it wasn't a hangover, because i don't drink. it was more real than that. i felt like purging almost all the time.

perhaps it was the exhaustion or the weather (it had been raining heavily since the night before), i don't know. but if it is one or the other i don't think feeling 'bad' is one of the things i should have. what is bad about being tired? the mind mainly blanks out while the body recuperates and that means more sleep. it helps that the weather was on my side.

whatever it was, there was guilt attached to it. i could feel the guilt, the slow chewing power of guilt eating away parts of my inside bit by bit. what have i got to be guilty of? or maybe, what am i not guilty of?

i recalled what happened the past few days: besides partying all night on friday, and skipping my entire day of prayers, and then back to work on saturday morning, which was i rudely awaken by the rattling noise at home resulting to only three hours of sleep for another ten hours of work followed by five hours of sleep that night for another fifteen hours of work on sunday - all done with my prayers skipped.

and on monday i was too tired i cancelled all my appointments and slept for most part of the day. though we cannot catch up on lost sleep i thought of simply resting - proper rest (the last time i had one was months ago). but that didn't help much.

and then the mind wondered about what could've happened if i had been born smarter. would i have topped my school? would i have gone to stansford? would my life be better? would i have done things differently? the depressing thoughts went on relentlessly, which made my bad state worse.

i started thinking about what went wrong. what went really wrong?

i don't know.

i couldn't sleep properly either. all that sleep i had, i wish they have been good ones. and i dreamt. for every ten minutes i woke up i remembered i dreamt. and that was how it was the entire night and during my afternoon naps.

something is wrong. i know it. but i don't know what it is.

i feel the pangs of the pain. it hurts. then it goes away and comes back a few minutes later. it's troubling. and it is affecting me. why?

i let the water ran still. i hope that the water can still my heart and wash away the pain. just for that minute, or two, i want time to stop and hear only silence.

madness

when you try so hard that you feel like your heart is about to leap out of your mouth. when the thoughts get too intense no other thing could penetrate. when blood gallops through the veins leaving no time for you to breathe. when you breath grows thin and shallow you cannot think. the fingers become numb and then the hands and the whole arm. it moves down, further down to your gut, hardening the muscles solidifying the bowels. you start to not feel. you lose the senses and consciousness. the brain then starts to react but jammed. the system is failing, falling, crashing.

this is madness.

school

(this is how you prove 11 is a prime number)

i like school. i like learning things that i may not apply when i go to work like chemical bonds, or electron size. but they give me good head start. i get to show off. everyone loves a genius, except for himself. well sometimes.

alice said she has gone to meet the rabbit. and mr wolf is reading birth of prison by foucault. the girl with the red hood is cooking porridge for goldilocks. cinderella and ariel said they are coming with perseus but they didn't say when. the small men are still in gulliver's stomach looking for moby, the dick. willy is swimming with spot. the swan is on a date with pinochio and the cricket is trying to run away from mulan. i have barney with me but he's too big. besides he's purple and i don't like purple. dorothy was supposed to lend me her sneakers but the cow took it with aries's shoes to jump over the moon. the fork and spoon are drinking tea with lady bracknell. everyone is busy leaving me alone.

but i don't worry. i am here watching the sand before i get to blow the horn. i'm excited! wonder what magic is going to happen next!

the r.e.l.i.g.i.o.n

we choose our mothers. before we are born, we have them exactly what we would like them to be. there is a catalog of mothers in heaven. and god lets us choose whom we want to be born from; and the life we want to live in.

and when we die, we don't actually die. to die means to cease living. but we still appear in people's memories. to some, we are still afresh in their minds. so i don't think we truly disappear. as long as we are remembered, we keep on living. we leave our physical body but we still live on. in the afterlife, or on earth. those stories that we were told are bullshit. can we prove that there is a heaven and/or hell? we were told, rather, cautioned, that we will receive our rewards and punishment in the 'afterlife'. i choose to believe that 'an afterlife' is just a word. what really happens, we don't know. we can't talk directly to god; we are too disgusting for that. only the purest of existence are allowed to, like archangel jibril (gabriel) and the prophets.

so when we die, don't believe what they say. they don't know it too. they just bullshit something 'rational'. it's inconsequential. think about it. it is something that is believed, but not proven. and that is how it is going to be for many time to come. it is quite enough to have a belief. that is substantial.

this is how i think we go:

1. we move from god's haven to someone's womb - to house us while we develop into a human form, like a caterpillar in its pupae stage - of our choosing.

2. we come out and learn about this new environment.

3. we find that it is enough, we tell Him that it is enough, we decide to move on.

4. we leave 'our body' and the dust layer behind. it is the dust layer that gets the punishment and reward.

5. while we move on to somewhere.

where to? i cannot prove. no one knows because we don't come back and tell those after us.

oh! i forgot. when we move on to somewhere else, we divide ourselves. we have some on earth, where we had stayed. and we have some elsewhere in the universe. the rainbow is a cosmic vagina. everything springs out from it.

i fell in love with a boy

i fell in love. with a boy.

he caught my eye when he first walked into the room. since we're strangers and i didn't want to be assumed as too forward, i didn't say anything to him. but i kept looking at him, secretly.

finally, that one day came. we exchanged a few words. i was calm and also extremely thrilled. i was being professional, we were becoming colleagues.

as time went by, we became more comfortable with each other. that was when we had conversations. i couldn't remember what it was but it felt natural, not awkward. not at all.

bien sur, we got closer as the production started to take on a very good shape. i was still embarrassed to start the talks but i feign being nervous.

soon enough, we came to a point when it was acceptable to open up our personal lives. i asked him and he answered. i had to carefully thread as i know he has a girlfriend and i didn't want to come off as too strong. success.

on the last day, before i went on stage for the last time for that show, i pried a little more. this time it was different. it was emotional.

he told me about his history: where he'd been and how she stayed on. and like lightning, very swiftly it hit me and i felt it. between them, it is deep and profoundly beautiful. i understood the strength and love between them.

and time had stopped.

i fell. it hit me very strongly and i fell. i couldn't hold up i had to let go.

a day has gone by and i'm still lamenting. i don't know why i cannot let him go. maybe it's because i made it too close to my heart.

or maybe, for that brief period, i had fallen unnecessarily and unknowingly in love with him.

middle east

turkish. that's what it was. the music sounded so far yet distinctly clear, distinctively native. one can recognise the pulsating rhythm, intonation, modulating tones of the voice accompanied by traditional instruments all together conjuring the image of arabian women belly dancing in their charming costumes in a harem of men drinking and laughing among themselves as they share the stories of their lives; the good and memorable. what these men talked about doesn't matter. it's the ambience and tranquility of the room that bring about the sweet and romantic feeling that does. we don't feel lost when we are high. we feel powerful.

i fell in love with turkish culture after reading orhan pamuk's snow. it wasn't the first book written by him that i picked up, but it is my personal favourite. there is something seductive about the controversy. "i love rattling cages", someone once said. so do i.

but i do not wish to create trouble. i only wanted to have a good time. to enjoy the music and maybe a company or two before going back to my life. there would be no trouble in making friends or chatting with strangers. it is a place for conversation. to have plain conversation taking place and verbal exchange of little stories. stories that tell a little bit of its teller. a tale of someone's life. a tale of some truth. i wanted to talk to some of those people and hear what they have to say about their experience, opinions in general matters and insight to their mind. i want to be surprised. i like surprises.

the music was inviting and i became tempted. it was good. it felt good. i felt good. and i have not been feeling good lately. it was just right i paid the club a little visit. if it doesn't work out i only have my eyes to shut.

and in i went.

it beautiful inside. the lights were dim, the music was strong and crowd was ravenous. the setting was crude and atmosphere heavy. the sound of voices filled the room and the air was thin. it was quite hard to breathe through the smoke but i felt that it was fine. i have no complaints. the huge space meant that this was an ordinary club with a good mixture of people. i looked around and familiar myself with the space such as where the toilet is, emergency exits are, best bartenders are strategically placed - the important things. it was perfect.

i am quite relieved i knew no one, and no one knew me. i'm in a strange world of strangers. everything around me is new and refreshing; a change in my normal routine live. the music has got a nice beat and rhythm. my body quickly adapted to the surrounding. i felt a pulsating gusto to live again, "joie de vivre!" it was weird but i like it. i felt good, almost natural and necessary so i sat down and ordered myself a drink.

i looked around and saw a ruffled hair caucasian, nicely trimmed beard and mustache, good looking physique and considerably tall, he seemed to be waiting for someone; a clean shaven pan-asian with a nice tan and cute haircut (could be a surfer) quietly sipping his bailey; a bald, classy, sexy and suave black man in his business suit standing at the corner by himself; a middle eastern man who looks like a greek god; and a lean emo with tattoos covering his body and his ears pierced drinking beer at the other end of the counter. i decided to say hi to the greek god.

what happened next? it started off like this:

"nice music", i said first.

silence. and i felt terribly embarrassed. the music kept playing. i didn't know if i should run or stay cause this man clearly isn't interested in me. i tried to look at him but he didn't glance back. i was flushed with humiliation i turned away. suddenly, i felt a hand grabbing my arms.

"ten seconds", he replied.

because it happened too quickly it made me confused and i gave him my horse face. "oh my fucking shit! pull that face away, pull that face away!" i told myself and quickly put on a tight smile.

"next time, give a proper introduction," he replied.

great! first time trying my luck at a club i made myself a fool and a received pep-talk. what the fuck!

"sit down. now, where we we?"

what happened next?

here's a clue: bedsheets

i will wait

he said he is coming. so i waited. we wait for those who said they will meet us and, especially, when they say it is urgent.we don't go away or have a no-show. we say 'yes' and make our way down as soon as possible, no seconds delay. we come down early and wait for them to turn up. in the meanwhile, we think up of many possible scenarios: maybe he's going to tell me he's got cancer and only a month or a week left; or he's going to blow himself up in a public area; or he needs money to pay off his debtors; or his mother is in the hospital and he's very upset and troubled; or he's in love with me but he's marrying someone else; or he's going away for good; or he's going to take me on date at the empire state building and his private jet is picking us up from here, ... we cannot but simply conjure up images that may or may not defy logic and our rational state of mind because we are not in our rational state of mind.

he sounded tired and worn out, almost dead, over the phone. i would've said desperate but it's better to be safe. you know how dead some people sound like over the phone like life has been zapped out of their life? i'm not talking about being boring or jaded; that's pathetic. i mean that's a pathetic state. i call that state 'pathetic', as if they're dying for attention by being dead so that other people will inject life into them. that's predatory and i resent predators of such kind. why are they alive and living around us anyway? they should be dead, buried, or not even given life. that way they won't sap the life out of us and/or bore us with such nonsense. my friend here is dead, a different kind of dead.

his voice was high strung, panicked. i could almost see him before my eyes, like an apparition, being white like a ghost. maybe he's terrified. maybe it's terror that's plaguing, the most extreme kind because only such thing would drive a man to such a state. what else could it be? someone who is simply afraid will not call for help. it's a small matter and he can take care of it, and of himself. but someone who's is more afraid, like my friend, will be whiten by the fear. the fear, so great, it becomes tangible and it can be more than just felt. it seeps into the person's life and gets hold of what's within. it runs through the same blood as its host and breathes the same air. it starts to become part of you and you start to lose you. that is when the mind, your mind, starts to lose itself and you feel divorce from your soul. the separation is meant to tear you apart from within. that is how fear wins.

that was what happened to him. he's almost gone now, he's almost lost. he is soon not to be himself and if he hadn't make the call i would've lose my friend, my dear friend, forever. we know how painful that is. we will not forget about it after it is done. we will carry on the pain, the guilt, for as long as we can before alzheimer's come to the rescue, assuming it comes to save us from the pain, or we would carry it with us till we die and then leave it there with the underground creatures. these are sacred beings that's been trusted to keep our secrets. they keep the stories of those who've gone up or down for judgement. they're the filters, filtering out the unnecessary bulks and debris of what we've brought onto our lives leaving the soul pure and simple for easy judging. my friend has a story. he's storing it to me. i will take his story to history.

the rain clouds are gathering in fast, even the ominous weather is telling me something; this is not going to be good. all i can do now is pray he's got time to meet me and tell me what he wanted to. i will wait no matter how late he's going to be. a cab stopped a few metres in front of the park entrance. my thoughts began to swirl in a frenzy. i wanted to run over but something was holding me back. i don't know what it was but it was strong, very strong. was it me, my own doing, or something else was doing it for me? i tried to get up but i couldn't. that's weird. i tried again, this time with more strength and courage. i don't know why i needed that much effort to stand up but strangely, it did. someone stepped out. could that be him? i peered forward to get a better look but his back was facing me. he's wearing a black coat and a black hat. why did he dress like that? he doesn't usually dress so bleak. still, i didn't let it bother me. it was more important for me to talk to him, or him to speak to me. it is him whom i'm meeting. he's the attention here, not me. 'please come'.

lightning flashed a few times which caught my attention momentarily and i looked up. damn, i got distracted. when i regain my attention i saw the taxi driving off but he was no where to be seen. he's gone! no one else was seen in the park! was that him whom i saw or someone else? was my mind playing games and coming up with images that weren't real? did i really see him or was i imagining things? it can't be! i don't imagine things. i do get distracted but i don't hallucinate. i never hallucinate! 'nate!' i called out. 'nate! nate! i'm here!' no one responded. i could hear my voice echo through the park but the reply i wanted didn't come. maybe it was someone else that i had mistaken. i mean, people do make mistakes. but how could it be when he - the man - looked exactly like nate? was i thinking too much about him that i accidentally pasted his image on someone else? was i? it can't be. 'nate! nate!' but all i could hear was my own echo.

silence weighs down heavy on me. i started to think that he didn't make it. that he got into an accident while trying to meet me! oh dear! i killed nate! i killed my own friend! if i hadn't asked him to meet me he would've still be alive. i killed him. i caused his death and he doesn't know about it. i killed him before his cancer (presumably) got a chance to get to him first. what's going to happen now? the police must know the truth. his death must be justifiably told. the autopsy must speak of the truth, the real and entire truth, of his death; that it is not just an accident and he just happen to die because of the accident. it has to speak of the truth. the truth must be told, it cannot be concealed. no, not for cases like this. i must admit to my causing my friend's death. he died because of me.

oh my, he died because of me. he died because of me! he took his own life because he didn't want me to suffer. he didn't want me to take on his story. he didn't want me to carry on with what he's got. he didn't want me to know about his pain, and hurt, and languor. his story was his to keep and passed over to the underground creature for only they could take it. they're mute and stupid. so it was ok for them to keep it because they can handle it, it won't affect them any bit. they won't feel anything because they can't. they won't think about it because they've got no brains or sensory system to deliver 'feelings'. and that makes them sacred and trustworthy. of course, it hurts me a little bit that he'd rather let something else keep his story and not me but he must have his reason. and i trust him. i have faith in what he's going to do because he's always known what to do and how to do it. i don't know how but he just does. that is the magic about him.

he is smart and caring. and very intelligent. he cares about what he says and how he says them, careful not to offend anyone. he knows how powerful words are and he doesn't wish to misuse them and abuse others, like some people. he understands the extend of his actions and words and thus wishes to use them for good. a historian by academic training he also has got a wealth of knowledge inside that brain of his. unlike me, the language major, he gets to visit excavation sites and many other fieldtrips anywhere in the world to sudty and truly comprehend the subject. i love hearing him telling his stories when he gets back. you can see how much he loves the subject; his eyes would beamed brightly, and his intonation varies and his arms will move around cutting the air and he would smile - that sweet charming smile - always. he makes me feel alive.

and he doesn't want me to die along with him, with the truth of his last few stories. he didn't want me to know about the truth, his truth, from his story, because then it'll be too much for me to bear. he didn't want to let on his burden to me; a burden presumably. why would he ever think it's such? i'll not call it a burden. nothing about him is a burden, especially his stories. his stories give me life. i live by his stories everyday. they're uplifting and insipiring. and when you hear him pepper a few words of wisdom occasionally you too will adore and admire him. stupid nate, why would you think that? anyway, then it means that his decision to meet me and die on the way - by killing himself - was his way of saying goodbye, i love you! yes! of course, he's always been the romantic and caring kind capable of doing something unorthodox like this. this then mean his death should be celebrated! and not mourned or regretted. he doesn't like these passe kind of thing, he's never approve of such behaviour and decision anyway. of course, why didn't i think of that earlier.

isn't that ironic? that you don't tell things to those whom you care about? why is that? they say it's because you hurt most the one whom you truly love. but without saying anything, isn't that betrayal? do real friends betray one another? i guess in certain circumstances that's necessary. i won't blame him. we've known each other for years; i don't remember how long because it felt like yesterday. i know him. and he is like that: secretive at times. i only got to know of those that he didn't tell when i accidentally stumbled upon clues from other people. i think god wants us to play fair. and my dear nate wants to play a game. even if he didn't tell, i'm bound to find out somehow. that's the beauty of our relationship; it doesn't need to be said to be known. i don't care if others find out because that doesn't matter. it doesn't mean anything. so long as we have this, i feel safe. and i think i may have an idea of what he's thinking and about to do.

last year when the world trade centre collapse nate told me he's going to america. he didn't tell me the reason then but i knew it will surface eventually. the day after he left i went over to his place. he asked me to help him keep an eye on it while he's gone. i decided to stay there for a few days, or at least till he comes back. i did his laundry, clean his house and of course, went through his closet and drawers and wardrobe. he doesn't need to know and he will not know because i will put them back just as i how i found them; destroy the evidence, destroy the suspicion. i found nothing unusual. he came back a week later while i was sleeping on his couch.

just a week ago, nate called to arrange for a lunch meeting. this wasn't unusual. what was unusual was what happened during lunch. first he invited me over le carre's (a very posh restaurant where only the rich and famous dine, i don't know how he got seats). then he asked me to order anything i wanted. and throughout the conversation he kept talking about the good old times. i tried to tactfully ask him what's the occasion but he simply ignored and carry on. i tried again, this time he cut me in and asked about my estranged brother. i was getting irritated but i said nothing to spoil the day. we sat at the restaurant till evening and he drove me home.

i thought about our bizarre lunch meeting and speculated many things. was he going away or did he find out he's going to die or he met up with my brother or was i going to die and someone wanted to kill me? but why me, i'm not famous or dangerous. the last person i offended was my brother and that was months ago. whatever it was nate didn't want to tell, and it was soon before i could find out. i stayed up that night. i went online to read up on 9/11. i was trying to figure out if there's any connection between nate - who's residing in singapore - and america. was he an activist of some sort? or an undercover assassin and it's his time to be killed? what had the collapse of the wto got to do with him? was he involved in the conspiracy? i saw pictures of the terrorist training and videos of their plans but not one of them looks chinese. in the end i switch off the computer and tried to sleep. at the back of my mind i am convinced nate has got nothing to do with the attack, or the supposed one coming up this weekend at one of the mrt station.

it's been half an hour and still no sign of him. i wanted to go home but part of me insisted that i stay. 'maybe he is coming and got caught in traffic jam.' or maybe he forgets.

just then i saw another taxi stopping front of the garden entrance but no one came out. i waited for a few more seconds and still no one came out. maybe the taxi was waiting for someone. i didn't want to think much of it so i directed my attention to something else - the leaves. have you looked at the leaves before? i'm not talking about seeing them on trees, i'm talking about looking at them; observing and studying them. most poeple won't care about the leaves. i don't. but today, when i saw those leaves fluttering in the wind i began to realise how sad it must have been for the trees. they're trying so hard to hold onto their leaves but because of the strong wind those leaves were stolen away. sure they'll grow new ones but they can never replace those that they've lost. there is no substitute for those whom we care about. we can have a replacement but that won't replace the thing that we lost. imagine how the trees must be feeling when they have to keep replacing those that they've grown fonder for. only the memory of it is left, attached to the skin of its being. my phone rang.

hello.

are you there yet?

nate?

wait for me.

and he hung up.

i was relieved to hear his voice. at least i know he's still there. yet i had a feeling that might be the last time i would hear his voice.

i let the engage tone play on over the phone. for some strange reason, it gives me a form of comfort.

inside a cockroach mind

move idiot, move! where to? i don't know. just move. i can't. then shut up. think, think! do something, anything. anything? but stupid. shut up! shut up! shut up! now what!? there, go! stupid! shut up! now what? i don't know. what?!

11.55pm.

five minutes! hurry! trying! i can't breathe.

11.58pm.

hurry! i'm trying!

11.59pm.

move! move! move! what? what!? you're hoping. so? you can't hope, be certain!

12.01am.

shit! shit. shit. shit. just do it. now! i can't. what! why? something is not right. i don't fucking care, just do it! wait! not much time to...

tick tock. tick tock. tick tock.

you were here

you are dead. you are gone. you left me here, all alone. to be by myself. to be with me. i didn't know what to do and what to think. i didn't know what happened. you didn't tell me and you didn't say anything. what was i to do? what was i to think? who was i to be?

you were all i had. you were my strength, my power, my life. you were everything to me. you meant everything to me. you were here with me and i love you and let out a prayer to not let you be away. to let let us part from each other. to be with one another. i love you. and that's all that matters.

you were whom i thought about when i was down. you were whom i have faith in. you were whom i know who i am. you were whom i care. you were part of me. you were me.

what am i to do now? what am i suppose to think now? who should i believe? who should i think about?

i am lost without you. i am broken without you. i despise the thought of losing you. i felt i am gone. i felt i am lost. i am without direction and thought. my faith has dissolved. i'm solvent to the enormity of circumstance that has befallen my gratuitous self.

why did you do this to me? why did you bring me into your life and then drop me off? like i'm thrash. why did you get to know me and love me only to sword through my heart. why did you want to hurt me?

i hate you! i hate you for being part of my life. i hate you for making me part of you. i hate you for creating 'us'.

go! just go away amd don't come back. don't haunt me with our memories. don't haunt me in my sleep. don't think about me anymore. just go. go!

this was what i felt yesterday

this song was going on:"and have a little christmas..."

and this was on my mind:"i'm so pissed, annoyed, frustrated, bothered!"

it was a very bad day. partly due to my lack of sleep the night before, and for the most part i was annoyed by the amount of debts i put myself in. i spent the night thinking about what i could do and how i am able to help myself. apparently, that didn't work and i went to work groggy. my face was so black. i felt like shit. and i was exhausted for most part of the time. it was a horrible day and i was in an even more horrible state. i was so easily ticked that i'm quite sure i would've given some customers a good shelling. and we know what's gonna happen next...

but i have come up with a solution; a practical one. and in the process i taught myself financial management. it's about manipulating the numbers and having faith in my sanity (weird expression but it's apt). correct. and because of that i could get a good night sleep. and this morning i sprayed YSL l'homme eau de toilette and walked out of the house feeling positive.

but i think i might have anger management problem. or the way i managed my anger is a problem. either way, my mind is on to it. and it will let me know when it's done.

the dream i had last night

i had strange dream last night.

i was in this mosque. and the azan is being heard. the mosque was dimly lit, and the walls were moldy green. and there was a bar in the mosque, near to where the imam is to pray. and the bar was selling alcoholic drinks while the azan is being heard. and there were muslims buying those drinks and gulping down shots after shots of vodka. i was there. instead of going to the imam, i went to the bar and sat there, watching the drinks being poured and people drinking. i didn't have a drink myself but neither did i stop them from buying and drinking. when i looked to my left, there were people praying, or they looked like they were trying to pray but they kept being distracted. this huge moldy green mosque has got so little people, most, if not all, of whom suddenly turned to look like zombies. they look grotesque and disturbing. they wanted to pray but break away and laugh. some even rolled around. the mosque started to get dimmer, and the "beings" seemed to have grown in number. i didn't know what was happening or what to do but i know, for sure, that it was odd, and wrong. yet, i did nothing but stood watching as the place becomes moldier - as if running down very quickly - and dimmer, and trapping me. i didn't go over to the imam or anywhere near him. i stood, transfixed, at where the "beings" are. they were scary looking but they didn't scare me, or rather i wasn't afraid of them. i was more afraid of my reluctance to perform my prayers.

and then my dad woke me up for the dawn prayers. i was still feeling very afraid of the nightmare.

in the woods

ssh. hush. can you hear it?

there it is again. listen.

quiet now.

do you hear it?

there it is. there it is again.

it sounds like...like...

they're crying. can you hear tears? they're crying. one, two, three, four, five,...

wait.

i hear something else.

listen.

from stoker to meyer

why are vampires so sexy? that instead of running away from them, i so want them to suck me (my blood, i mean)!

from stoker to meyer, they just get sexier!

it's one of the greatest porn ever made. think about it.

so screw righteousness and prejudice against gayism, vampirsm is indicative of such moral hypocrisy existing in our society. this vein runs through us all.

it is the act of bringing out this fantasy is what causing our desire to relentlessly repress our need to be accepting of what we are - sexual beings. conversation on sex are left for the intimacy of a smaller group of people. it is not an appropriate conversation topic when we're among many people. this irony is cultured through time and before long it becomes an unspoken rule; silenced.

i think sex talk make us feel naked, and undesirable; who wants to appear naked in public?

but whatever it is, if i see a vampire as hot as brad pitt (was), i'll surrender myself.

you see, i see the image as form of approval for us to indulge in sin and not feel guilty. we simply think about it, let it out and we watch it. as if we're a medium for all this sex, and we don't actively participate in the process.

well, we did. but watching it is passive. it's less wrong, but twice as fun. just like porn.

our health is based on our sexual gratification (freud). so as long as we feel sexually satisfied, active or passive, we're happy (studies have shown that it's the same ecstacy).

and i'm so gay about it!

i was thinking of the moon

i was thinking of the moon. i was thinking of the moon before i thought of you.

it has been days since i last spoke of you. how have you been? i sent you a prayer not too long ago. here, i just sent for another. wait for it. listen.

the moon looks nice tonight doesn't it? it's plain obscure self hiding - hidden - from what it doesn't wish to see. maybe it's afraid. maybe it's afraid of its own shadow.

the glass feels nice tonight; as if it's a piece of velvet cut from a long....

i can see the moon on the glass but not the glass on the moon. i see you. but do you see me?

the reason i go to school

i go to school because i want to study. i want to study very hard and make my mummy and daddy happy. my mummy and daddy always told me that i should not be lazy because lazy people will not be happy. my friend g is lazy, and he looks happy. my mummy and daddy are not lazy but they don't look happy.

i go to school because i want to see my friends. i have many friends. we like to talk to each other. we talk to each other on so many things and for very long. one day, i heard some the girls talk about some of the very cute boys in school. i was interested.

money=life, ruzaini=no money. therefore: ruzaini=no life (get the math?)

Does the above equation make sense? If it does, that means you are logical. If it doesn't, to you, go see a psychiatrist or your math teacher. If you don't have one, it's high time you seek one. How can you live without math? It's not like sex you know: optional. It's like breathing: necessary. You need math to survive.

When you buy your delicious chocolate (e.g. cadburry, ferrero rocher, mars, snickers, etc.) from the mamak shop downstairs or NTUC or Prime or even Sheng Shiong, you need to pay for them. But before you start to grow vertically, at a rate of .001 inch per second, you need to get ready the money. If you have $2 and the chocolate costs $1.75, what are you gonna do? Cry? Call out for help? The Powerpuff girls or Mr. Muscles? Mustapha (since he has everythning...therefore he must know what to do right?)? The secert service? CIA? What are you gonna go since you don't have exact amount?! That's right! You need math! See the importance of math now?

And if your math is really good, you can have more money. How, you may ask? For one, you will be getting a well-paid job; e.g. accountant, math teacher, entrepeneur (I think that's how it's spelt) cause you need to calculate risks. The other, is that you will know how much you will be saving when shopping at Tampines Mall's mega sale (happening now).

Ask Lee Kuan Yew or Lee Hsien Loong or even daughter-in-law, the CEO of Temasek Holdings. Work hard on your math and device an algorithm whereby you get to live luxuriously on your people's income plus the increase in tax. Distribute the country's wealth unevenly, a bit more from each person gets diverted into your account, and to protect your status say,"It is a long term investment for Singapore." I guess what they don't want to tell you, simply because it's down right wrong and dispicable, is that,"It is a long term investment for us as well. Hehehehehehehehehehe. Can't believe it's so easy!"

But then hor, I guess it's just an opinion from someone who is not living in luxury lah. Don't be influenced ok. Listen to the people at the top, not the one at the bottom (rank lower than your nose).

Seriously, living in a country where the standard of living is high having an income of $2000 is not enough to feed 5 mouths. In the past, about 5 years ago, $2000 can feed 7 mouths and an Altis/Waja. Now, you need to have a part-time job so as to make ends meet. Not only that, every member in your househole has to work if you are not studying. I would rather stay at home because that way the net expenses will be reduced. However, the logic fails to work. If you don't work, it means that you are adding to the burden. You are increasing the family's debts instead of decreasing it. It is as if there is one deficient motor that refuse to be fixed. Consequently, the family unit cannot propel forward but be dragged behind.

And can you still deny the fact that you need money to survive in a place like Singapore? I am not talking about living. Living is when you get to splurge without worrying if there will be surplus for tomorrow. I have $28 in my account right now. And I need to survive till late April. You think it is possible? I am about to give in and put myself on a noose. "Why not ask from you parents, surely they have," you might ask. Well for one, I see desperation in their eyes. They are seeking for ways to increase the family income to pay off debts and other financial matters. "Why don't you get a job?" I've applied for lots since January. So far I've worked for 1 week at Otis and 7 days in total as a relief teacher. No one wants to hire a temporary staff. It's a waste of money.

So now I'm pennyless, practically. And since money is widely equated to life, if you string the logic you will see that I have no life, even before I noosed myself. Pathetic right?

But I read somewhere that God has plans for His creation. He either blessed them with wealth or without. Those without are tested on their faith. However, that doesn't mean that you should resign. You still have to put in effort to better your condition. The problem I have now is what else can I do? Do you know the punishment for those who are ungrateful to His gifts? Very bad punishment.