I Graduated to the Rousing Refrain of the Imperial March

"Obviously a strongly elongated penis is the solution."

Dr Alexander Arkhipkin

No, I'm not going to divulge the context of this fantastic quote.

On the 2nd of July, 1843, Samuel Hahnemann, creator of the quack alternative medicine system known as homeopathy, died and left the world a worse place than he found it. 168 years later, more than two-hundred new medical doctors graduated in my home city of Malacca and some of them will probably not be a complete waste of oxygen on this planet.

I did not want to attend my own graduation day initially, but I feared that my parents may not let me stay alive for very long had I shirked my filial duty of suiting up in an anachronistic ceremonial robe and putting on a silly square hat for the purpose of being photographed by them as proof to friends and relatives that they have begotten something narrowly better than a fart bubble in our end of the gene pool.

During the ceremony, I was seated beside Sanjeev, my Seychellois batchmate and fellow atheist, but he wasn't one for much stimulating conversation that afternoon, unfortunately. He was good only for groaning every five minutes about how hungover he was. Anyhow, he could have graduated with distinction had he not attended his viva voce drunk off his horse but just for pulling that stunt, he had eternally earned the respect of everybody who knew him - and he, brilliant chap that he is, knew which honours were higher.

As expected, there were boring scripted speeches read by important personages wearing even sillier looking Tudor bonnets. Next came the part that parents had been waiting for: the presentation of our degree scrolls as our names were declared aloud by the Dean of the Indian half of our college, whose Indian tongue struggled valiantly to pronounce our exotic Malaysian names (I mean this in good humour since I am rather fond of the guy). The Chinese students with the surname "Ng" bore the worst brunt of the butchering - it was consistently corrupted to "Angie". No one sought to correct him the entire time because presumably, they thought it was a hoot.

Then, the generically ostentatious orchestral fanfare playing throughout the proceedings over the PA system changed and the Star Wars Main Theme started blaring heroically in its stead. Right after that, The Imperial March played with sinister pomp as new doctors continued to step up solemnly on stage to receive their accolades. And yes, it was as hilarious as you can imagine.

I heard mutterings amongst my colleagues about how inappropriate it was that the leitmotif of one of the greatest movie villains of all time accompanied what was the most important moment of their lives (to date). It was, after all, the song the Band of the Welsh Guard played as a not-so-covert insult when King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia, an infamous abuser of human rights and asshole of some note, visited the United Kingdom.

Not me. I think it was glorious and it made me glad that I didn't miss my graduation day after all. If I had a Darth Vader helmet with me at the time, I swear I would have worn it on stage. Now, I can tell everyone that I graduated from med school to the rousing refrain of The Imperial Fucking March.

After all, I already got the evil black robe bit down pat.

The lot of us then did not take the Hippocratic Oath as was erroneously announced (which was a bummer because I was so looking forward to swearing to Apollo, Asclepius, Hygeia, Panaceia and all the other Greek gods) but took instead the Physicians' Oath codified in the Declaration of Geneva. It was alright except for the line that went: "I will maintain the utmost respect for human life from the time of conception, even under threat, I will not use my medical knowledge contrary to the laws of humanity."

I omitted my pronouncement of the part about respecting human life from "the time of conception" since modern medical practice, even in relatively religious Malaysia, necessitates that I don't. I wouldn't be able to prescribe emergency contraception or allow the destruction of leftover embryos in fertility clinics without being an oath breaker otherwise. I think it's time they update the wording of that oath, even though it's mostly just lip service in these cynical days.

My father arrived just as my mother and grandmother was leaving, cunningly missing the boring bits of the programme and turning up only to participate in a Kodak moment with me.

Later that evening, I celebrated with a few of my favourite individuals from med school by eating out at a Korean restaurant and then going to Shaki's suite at the Equatorial Melaka to have one last night of reckless alcoholism. We watched Inglourious Basterds and A Nightmare on Elm Street 4 on telly; the latter being an excellent film to watch when you are inebriated while the former is just excellent. Then, we talked passionately about all the video games we have ever played in our lives. I vaguely remember going out for breakfast with Voon at about 3:00 AM, and then calling room service for a corkscrew at four. Next morning, I woke up in the bathtub.

It was the most fun I ever had in a long, long time. Today, I will be attending an induction course at Port Dickson at 2:00 PM which will officially initiate me into the medical fraternity; into the adult world of salaries, taxes, mortgages and expectations. It came like a zephyr, beneath my notice, but I have come of age.

Searched his feelings,

k0k s3n w4i

Atheists in an Alehouse

"The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men

Gang aft agley"

To a Mouse (1785) by Robert Burns

Ever wonder what a cabal of atheists do when they get together?

Last Saturday, a Sabbath according to Jewish traditions and some Christians denominations, members of the Malaysian Atheists, Freethinkers, Agnostics (and their friends) had one of their sporadic meetings at the Craft Brews Brewhouse & Restaurant at Mutiara Damansara, Petaling Jaya. I arrived at the soiree a wee bit late, and I figured that since I didn't inform anyone that I was going to turn up in the first place, I'm allowed to be as tardy as I like. Right before the meet, I had tea with Jen and her man-friend - both of which happen to be non-religious - and I'd love to have them come as well, but I didn't think they are into unholy, godless assemblies as a spectator sport.

I tried to talk Terri into attending too since she is a member of MAFA but she was feeling less than enthusiastic about the proposition. I was hoping she would change her mind since there is always a real famine of the feminine in groups like ours.

Godless sausage fest (pictures courtesy of Ramon Fadli).

The only woman there was Ie Tzan's girlfriend who, as far as I know, isn't a member. The failed atheist meet I organised in Penang last March actually boasted a better girl-to-guy ratio (2:3) even if it didn't have a stellar atheist-to-theist ratio (also 2:3). The deficiency of female participation is a well-known chronic problem of atheist and sceptical societies everywhere in the world, and it have baffled us for decades. While there are no real shortage of women who are critical-thinking, science-minded secularists (no lack of prominent ones either), most don't seem to feel passionate enough take up a more active role for the cause.

The meets held in and around the Klang Valley region almost always command a decent turnout - which makes sense since metropolitan communities have a greater access to information and are consistently better educated, and those social elements correlate well with the rejection of religion and superstitions. Most of us present were either respectable professionals or university students which, to our collective surprise, were quite unlike the debauched, depraved, deceitful, devil-worshipping, baby-devouring criminals that most religious traditions demonised us as. I mean, could the Bible and Qur'an be wrong about us?!

Whoa, we should totally try to be more evil to help them despise us more easily!

About 15 to 20 people showed, coming and leaving in a revolving door fashion so we couldn't feasibly get everybody in the group shot. There are also members who are still "in the closet" for occupational or lawful purposes, so they couldn't be photographed either.

Terence (far left) organised this one.

We do plot and scheme, but being the intellectually independent individuals and unherdable cats we are, it's almost impossible to get us to arrive at any proper consensus. All the agendas proposed were defeated (except our devious plan for more future gatherings and more future beer - that one received unanimous support), but we still had a jolly good time hanging out. It's not often that we find ourselves in the company of literate and lettered people that have a working knowledge of philosophy, theology, cosmology, biology, psychology, ethics and human rights issues. It's almost a necessity for all of us to be well-informed laypeople on these subjects for us to survive one another. Seriously, every time you contribute anything to a discussion between rational, sceptical atheists, you must be prepared to back it up because we really have a very low tolerance for bullshit. Yes, there are irrational, unsceptical atheists as well, but they don't usually last very long.

And yes, as everyone probably suspects, we also swapped stories about our encounters with missionaries and holier-than-thou religious acquaintances who tried to witness to us, and had hearty laughs at their expense. There were some anger as well, since being unjustifiably condemned by most people around us as wicked heathens deserving of eternal torture in hellfire really doesn't do a lot to help our disposition.

As far as I can tell, our goals should be quite agreeable to most people, and it boggles my mind that they aren't universally applauded. We strive for a truly secular government which does not favour any one faith over another; the freedom of expression and the freedom of religion; the upholding of human rights and gender equality; and the promotion of science and critical thinking. In the case of our members who are Muslim only in name, we wish to fight for their right to leave Islam.

Now, it'll be nice if we can just agree on how we are going to achieve all those outstanding objectives.

All dressed up with nowhere to go,

k0k s3n w4i

A Profitable Surprise

"A dollar picked up in the road is more satisfaction to us than the 99 which we had to work for."

Mark Twain

In the continuing saga of my adventure in the fair state up north, I stumbled upon a cache of not insubstantial assets – much like Bilbo Baggins fortuitous discovery of the One Ring in his flight from below ground, this is the grand tradition of old fashioned tales. What I found however is not an evil artefact which grants invisibility to its wearer, and I certainly did not find it while groping blindly about a cave floor. One is much more likely to get a fistful of guano that way.

What I found was,

This bunch.

It was a morning and it was good. I was going about my business here-and-thereabouts (though what business I was busy with was none of yours). As per the dictation of my business, I was compelled to park my car and to leave it behind. Now, I was in the process of walking away but out of force of habit, I turned back to check if my car was locked properly or if it had suddenly burst into flames (more likely than you think). That was when I notice a sheaf of mostly greenish papers lying quietly by my car, fluttering slightly in a waft of breeze.

I did not recognise them for what they are immediately, them being chiefly in the new RM 50 print. I even thought that they might have Indonesian 50 rupiah bills (in which case, someone probably used them to blow their noses in and then threw them away). But lo, I saw the Agong’s smug little mug on them and "Fuckin’ hell!" I did express with hushed incredulity.

I scanned the parking place inquiringly, half-expecting to see someone who looked like they have suddenly and recently been rendered a whole lot poorer but it was an hour in which people are scarce. Whoever parked his car in my spot previously must have secreted these monies when he got off or got on his vehicle. The right thing to do, I believe, is to hang about the place to see if anyone would return to retrieve the wad and to that end, I waited about 5 minutes before I went to perform my errands. And when I returned, I expended a few more of my minutes waiting but I eventually got bored and drove away cackling and waving a middle finger about the air. Phoebs is of the opinion that I shouldn’t even have spent a second lingering to see if anyone would come back for the cash – and they call us atheists immoral, tsk tsk. Uh, for people that missed something, Phoeb's not an atheist. She's a Presbyterian.

Anyhoo, if you’ve noticed, I have not confided the time, place or the precise amount of loot I’ve picked up in this post (the picture is of no help at all, trust me, and it wasn’t all 50 dollar bills anyway). So, if you happen to be the hapless person who has mislaid a whole lot of legal tenders lately, drop a comment here with those exact details.

I am not terribly optimistic about a real claimant though. Daddy needs a new pair of Timberland.



P.S. This is the second time I wrote about picking a considerable amount of money right off the ground. If there’s a God, he seems to like me hell a lot, don’t you think?



Keeping my gaze down,
k0k s3n w4i

Le Quatorze Juillet

"Inside every older person is a younger person wondering what happened."

Jennifer Yane

I think that birthday celebrations are essentially pointless, if you consider their essence to be the rejoicement of someone's birth - it's like saying "glad you were born" to someone every year. The point of my contention is that how can you know whether anyone's birth is a good thing before the result of that event - in this case, that person's entire life - has ended? Did Hitler's high school buddies knew what they are being glad about when they celebrated the future führer's birth into the world? Today, you might be celebrating someone's birthday. Tomorrow, that person might blow up a school bus. Carrying this to its logical extreme, the only time we can celebrate a person's birth in good conscience is after that person's death, after we have confirmed that yes, this bloke is one of the better things to have happened to this world.

As you can probably tell, I'm not a big fan of birthdays. I have a poor head for my friends' birthdates and occasionally, I even forget mine. This year, my own birthday caught me unaware when it arrived yesterday in the shape of a phone call from India, with my girlfriend on the other side wishing me a happy 23rd birthday at the stroke of midnight. "Oh, it's my birthday already?" I answered groggily, as I was already in bed at the time. Later, the SMS'es started flowing in, including one from an old high school friend who shares my birthdate. I had to put my phone on silent just so I could get back to sleep.

I know that birthday wishes are good things to receive, and I should be grateful that people remember what happened on the 14th of July circa 20 years ago. In fact, I'm very impressed that people actually took the trouble to remember it. But that is what made it so hard for me to accept these wishes, you see. I never bothered reciprocating, and that made these wishes feel like little guilt trips.

"Where's the party?" asked a colleague of mine in class in the morning after. I told him that it's in my head, and he remarked that that's not right. Sure, I can honestly say that I'm pretty darn glad that I was born, but I simply can't be bothered to throw a party to commemorate it - not that there's anything wrong with people who think it's a good idea to do such things, of course. I just happen to have been brought up in a family who never thought much about birthdays...

... Sorry, I had to interrupt the writing of this post, which I wanted to complete yesterday night, but Shaki called and asked me to come out of my house. Luckily, I opted to put on a proper pair of pants over my boxers before I did - because what I found outside was a whole bunch of my friends and colleagues doing that "Surprise!!!" thing. They succeeded at being surprising, of course. I never expect these things, ever. I never considered myself deserving. It's like the last surprise birthday celebration sprung on me; I was sitting in front of my laptop doing stuff and not giving much of a fuck about my birthday.

L-R: Li Lian, Lai Yin, Sanjeev, Yin Yee, Kok, Smooth Lum, Shaki, Jun Han, Nana, Daveen and Raj. Nickson took the picture. And that's the way I smile, alright. I'm just not very good at it.

Guys and girls, I have a confession to make. When you asked me to make a wish before blowing out the candles, all I did was close my eyes for a few seconds, and then lied that I made a wish. It's not for the lack of trying though. I simply couldn't think of anything I'd want more than anything else at the time. At this point in my life, I can say without the slightest trace of irony that I am happy and contented, and I've been feeling that way for awhile now. I'm having a great time in med school. I have the perfect girlfriend who loves me like I'm somebody better than I am. Not at all the least, I have friends who thought it's a shame I don't care about my own birthday at all, and that my birth is something worth celebrating.

Thanks for everything :)

Then we headed out to my mom's shop for a drink, some conversation and a lot of laughter. Shaki and co tried to get me drunk off my ass for the first time in my life, but they didn't quite succeed. But still, I had so much beer in me that I went to class the next morning still high as a kite, and feeling like I was going to puke at any second.

Good times.



18 years old plus 5 years of experience,
k0k s3n w4i

The Japanese Collegiate Invasion

"Computer games don't affect kids; I mean if Pac-Man affected us as kids, we'd all be running around in darkened rooms, munching magic pills and listening to repetitive electronic music."

Unknown

... and Coreans and Burmese as well, but they don't look as good when they are all in the title that way. Now taking it from the top, Lai Yin made an announcement in class last Thursday (or last Tuesday, because I'm memory-impaired that way) about a group of students from a university in Nippon - on a Learning Across Borders program - would be visiting our campus during the weekend. Whatever it was that they hoped to learn from a campus such as ours is up for speculation and debate because I sure am not learning a lot here. Lai Yin, o' great mouthpiece of the Student Council, proclaimed that she needed 4 volunteers on the welcoming committee of the ambassadors - and lukewarm doesn't even begin to describe the reception. It's hard to fault my classmates though, seeing that the sessional exams would be upon us soon, blighting our next weeks and killing our puppies.

I, surprisingly, was the first to volunteer for this thing. Normally, when it comes to Student Council projects, I have to be persuaded, flattered, press-ganged, bribed or conned into participation - so you might be wondering why I am suddenly so helpful. Truth is, I only got myself involved because I wanted to tell Japanese people how much I think their animes and mangas suck, and tell Coreans that I hate their dramas and popstars (I don't care how much you want to have his babies, Phoebe, but any guy with a name like Rain is most definitely gay).

The guy who led the group of foreign students to our little middle-of-nowhere was Dwight,

This is Dwight.

According to Dwight, the reason they are even stopping at our campus is because of our Deputy Registrar, Mr. Sathuraman, who apparently did admin work over at USM in Penang some years ago. Dwight's crew used to stop at USM in the past years, but ever since Mr. Sathu gave up his position there and took up a seat in our college, they actually, in Dwight's own words, "followed Mr. Sathu here." Now, I have a real reason to like our Deputy Registrar!

And if they would put the program in reverse and send some of our people over to Nippon, I'd sign up for it in a heartbeat.

The night's program kicked off with a college-sponsored dinner (i.e. free!) where equal numbers of our college's student were mixed with Japanese, Corean or Burmese students on separate tables in an act of enforced and policed mingling. At my table was a shy Corean girl called Hyung Kyong who lived most of her life in Japan and finally taught me how Seoul is really pronounced, and a Japanese girl called Marina,

The one on the right is Marina, y'know, in case you have trouble telling us apart.

Marina's story is a pretty interesting one; she spent the first three years of her elementary school years in an international school in KL so this wasn't exactly her first time visiting this stretch of real estate located between Thailand and Singapore. Aside that, she also served little stints in Singapore and Jakarta due to the nature of her father's work before finally returning to Japan, joining a university in Tokyo, and applying for a place in the Learning Across Borders program to return to this region. Now, why isn't my life half as fascinating?

Suhaimi, our resident gym instructor, was responsible for the party games after dinner because no one on the Student Council had time to organise any (due to that puppy-killing sessional exams I mentioned earlier). I have to admit that this was the part I was most apprehensive about that night. He was the guy who came up with the um, sukanria our class had to play on what was our traditional Manipal-to-Malacca homecoming celebration organised by our senior batch, and I can swear that I played the same games back when I was seven during PE in primary school. Not that there's anything wrong with those games, no, excepting the snag that we are all in our early and mid-twenties, which evidently slipped clean off his mind.

I stand corrected now though. Suhaimi did an unexpectedly awesome job with the games yesterday night,

I don't want to explain this.

Nor this.


But any game involving lots of this is a-okay by me.

At any rate, I think it'd be quite hard for the games to fall short because the infectious and childlike enthusiasm of our guesties automatically made everything fresh and fun. I know that sounded like my usual cynical sarcastic shtick but I assure you, I meant all that. I suppose that's what the interviews for these sort of programs are for; to screen for the nicest, friendliest applicants they can get.

I was quite surprised to find out that most of the Japanese students in that group speaks English almost flawlessly. Since the widest exposure I ever had of Japanese linguistic abilities is in animes (where their use gratuitous Engrish felt like daggers punching into my kidneys over and over again) and from some travellers I met while I was backpacking through the Indian North, I was quite resigned to spending an evening playing charades with the visitors. Goes to show why I should stop stereotyping people before I really get to know them.

Another thing I learnt about most Japanese people is that the stereotype that they compulsively put up the peace sign when posing for pictures is all well and still true,

Cho Ken and, uh, a Japanese girl, peacing it up. I didn't get her name.

OMG, they got Sanjeev!!!

It went out of fashion in Malaysia like ten years ago. The only time I put up the peace sign these days is when I have my tongue between the fingers, making licking motions.

After the official event ended at about 10:00 pm, there were talks of bringing our new friends out to town. I pledged my car, of course, and we all drove to their Hotel to pick them up. It's a bit hard deciding where to take them though seeing that we were in Malacca - it was a toss between a club or a beachside cafe. I was in favour of the latter because frankly, Malaccan clubs are disgraceful (after what they presumably saw in KL and in their own country). There's so much smoke in them that you might as well light one up yourself and breathe through a filter.

Anyhow, beachside cafe won the vote but "some of us" got sidetracked en route. I noticed that the Jonker Street weekend bazaar were still open and suggested that we hit that instead - since it's closer to their hotel and some of them didn't want to stay out too late considering that they have an early bus to catch to Singapore in the day after. They just wanted a nice little place we can sit and chat,

On the upper floor of Geographer's Cafe, arguably the best cafe Malacca has to offer. That's Azusa to the right of Sanjeev. The one with her eyes closed on Sanjeev's left is Emi.

Of all the foreign students I talked to, I found that I clicked most immediately with Emi who is into touch football and Our Lady Peace. She's born in the States - which explains her American accent - and she majors in politics management, which I still don't quite get even after she explained it to me. While the rest were talking about what sounded ostensibly like academic stuff, I was discussing about mangas and animes (okay, I admit I do like some), and about western music with her. Pop culture. 'Cause we know what really matters in life.

I found out that she likes Michelle Branch as well, and agreed with me that she sucked when she was in The Wreckers (she was surprised and gladdened to find out that Branch is having a new album out soon though). We laughed over Katy Perry's last word in her Ur So Gay song, and sang along together to some oldies the live band were playing downstairs. It's a strange feeling, meeting someone who came from somewhere faraway you always thought were mystical, weird and alien - and found that it's still possible to have something in common with her.

I think I want to go to Japan now, goddamn the cost. I have always loved their food and thought highly of their secular, creative and liberal society which possesses all the values I admire, none of which are prevalent in our own.

Call it a gut feeling but now, I just know that there is really a lot of nice people there as well.



P.S. Alright, I thought My Sassy Girl was kinda cute too - to be fair to the Coreans. I still can't forgive them for Rain though.



Not really a Japanophile though,
k0k s3n w4i

Silver Lined

"And everyday I wake,

I tell myself a little harmless lie,

The whole wide world is mine."

Rites of Spring (2008) by Angels And Airwaves

I can't sleep. I think I caught something sometime yesterday while watching Bolt with Shaki, Inn Shan and co and it kicked off with a sore throat - one which I attributed to the large cup of Coke I inadvisably downed during the movie but hey, it made sense at the time. Right after dinner, the sore throat turned into a raging classic spectrum of symptoms of an upper respiratory tract infection; fever, headache, sinus tenderness, nasal congestion and an uncommon hatred of one's miserable self. By 11:00 pm, my head was trying to explode and I had to fly the white flag. I pride myself on being able to weather most simple illnesses, eschewing any kind of medical consultation or medication for the past 4 years - excepting one memorable occasion when I self-medicated using opium for a bad case of headache and sore throat (warning: opium is not FDA approved for treating the flu). I have always favoured outliving any damn virus using sheer grit and determination. You know it has to be pretty serious when I abandon my standard operating procedure.

I downed a cocktail of paracetamol (with a bit of codeine mixed in), loratadine and pseudoephedrine sulphate before I went to bed - the last of which, a decongestant, has the unfortunate side-effects of insomnia. It figures, since pseudoephedrine related to methamphetamine (or Speeeeed - say it this way, kids) and it had been used in the illicit drug trade to cook the latter. I was so wired that I've been tossing and turning the entire night before finally deciding to get my ass up at 5:00 am to blog. Anyway, one of the reason I started this journal was to deal with my insomnia back when I was in India. Maybe that's why I am posting so much less these days; I'm sleeping too well.

I've started walking to and from campus recently, after my car had a breakdown of sorts. It's just 5 minutes of footwork from where I live, and it's one of the prime reasons I chose MMMC over IMU, aside the whole get-to-go-India angle of it. I drive there most of the time though to avoid sweating up my shirt, but the weather is pretty genial these days (with the odd rain or two).

Last Thursday, on my usual route, I saw a cat in the distance heading my way and as I got closer to it, it didn't veer off or try to hide out of the usual instinctive cowardice of its kind. A housecat, I thought, or almost one. Quite unabashed, it trotted past me - looking up at me as it did in what I can only call that feline expression. Locke Lamora, the anti-hero of Scott Lynch's Red Seas Under Red Skies said it best when he was shocked into awakening from sleep by a kitten sleeping on the back of his neck,

'Mew' the kitten retorted, locking gazes with him. It had the expression common to all kittens, that of a tyrant in the becoming. I was comfortable, and you dared to move, those jade eyes said. For that you must die.

As I looked back at it, the cat stopped walking. When I held a hand out, it turned right around and started homing in on me, eager for the prospect of a little petting,

"I feel joo, brotha."

I spent teatime with it, sitting outside a vacant house and playing with the cat for the next half an hour. It's very therapeutic, I think, to have a cat rubbing itself all around your legs and purring as you scratch behind its ears and neck. On some basic level, I believe people need to physically connect with someone else on a regular basis, if only to reaffirm that there's still some sort of bond existing between them and the living world at large. If you have kissed or hugged someone, or held someone's hand, or pet a dog or stroked a cat, you'd understand what I mean. It says to you, "I'm here. I'm alive. I feel."

I like that little myth about how animals can tell good people from bad. It makes me feel good about myself every time I win a stray's confidence - to make some creature trust me not to hurt or harm it. Have you experienced slowly lowering your hand onto a dog which is suspicious of you - which is shrinking reflexively in fear even as you reach out - but uncertain enough not to bolt and run away? It's like every doggy sense inside its little doggy mind is telling it to scamper - save one. It's that one doggy sense which tells it to stay put in hope of a friendly, loving touch from you. And then, there's that moment when you finally rest your hand on its head. Every fear and suspicion, every last shred of mistrust and uncertainty simply melts away. The tenseness of its every muscle evaporated right that very instance of contact, and its tail comes out from between its legs and starts to wag. All from a simple touch. Magic.

It feels kind of like when you kiss someone new, really.

That day, I went home feeling like my day turned around. It wasn't a bad day to begin with but it had been rather flat and grey - no real highs or lows. It would have been just "last thursday" for about a week before my mind finally consign it to utter oblivion, another lost day in immemorium. But something almost trivial happened, and it became different. I guess this is what people talking about when they say that something made their day. That cat was certainly something. I'm sure that all the other things that happened to me that day - going to class, attending my clinical posting, trying to get by in med school - are much more important than meeting and playing with a stray cat. I'm sure everyone will think the same.

And yet, I have this nagging feeling that we are all missing the point about Life somewhere.



P.S. Now, I don't want anyone to start abusing pseudoephedrine to study for exam or anything. Wait, I didn't just give you the idea, did I?



Had an awesome last Thursday,
k0k s3n w4i

im not drunk lol xD

"phoebs thinks its cute."

me

"she's your gf. she's biased."

beve

"thank god."

me

beve n i about my msn display picture... or sum shit liddat la

blueeeeeeeeeeyyyy!!!!!!!

phoebe n i went to bluewaters jus now cos i promised her earlier this week tat i wud take her dere to makan da mash taters there mar. taters soundss so much betta than po-ta-to rite? i dun noe y people even stil call em po-ta-tos. somethin shud be done bout that in that oxford dictionery thingy srsly. taters roxxor. po-ta-to suck ass!!!!!

where was i? OH!!! I remember!!! u kno not? the mash taters at bluewaters is da shit man. its the best i hav eaten evar. and phoebs tinks so tooo. i noew it looks kinda funky... i mean... kinda funny. but its kinda funky too joo noe whut ah mean??? but okay okay.. nuff wiv my shit. here's pikchur...


goooeeeeeyyyy!!!!

i noe it looks laik vomit, i agree oso but then da taste damn the geng 1. i dono y la. no gravy oso rite?!? first time i eat it that time hor, i at first tot they mixed sum rice innit. i can feel like got pieaces of squishee stuff inside my mouf. meybe its sum tater not mashed kau kau. buthen hor, the flaver realli nice mar. so evrytime go there i order lor. the important thing is dun think so much when chew can d.

of cos we not only eat mash taters la. got other stuf oso. err she had chiken steak i think. and i ate... erm..... errr.... wait wait, lemme think, i noe this 1.... OH! chiken steak!!! chiken steak oso, but my one got mushroom in the sauce mia. hers dun have. so they dun taste the same.....

but lemme tell u one thing la. the portions at bluewaters very the kiam siap 1. makan tak kenyang mia. cos tat place club mar. oklar, it's not club so hi class like zouk or pure bar or shit liddat, but still got ballroom for ppl to dance somewhere at the back la. u walk past the toilets den can see d. i dono y bt i feel like going there too. suddenly feel like i very pro at dancing bt phoebe dowan let me go..

BEST. DRINK. EVAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

OH OH OH!!! wana tell u all hor. i damn like tis pina colada. i think it got rum n coconut krim. n oso got that spiky fruit mia but i not talking abt durian here k? a bit yello 1 inside. NO LAR. NOT DURIAN LA! i noe durian oso yello inside bt tat's not it k? kanasai...

but dun worry la, i a bit a bit wun get drunk mia... pina colada only mer. like shandy only, i tink.

I dono abt tat 2 other glasses of something else i drank la. got vodka 1. and gin. and tequila. and got rum oso gua...

my supercute gefren mabuk d lolololol!!!1!11!!!1!

too bad my lou po not geng at holding her alcohol. she became like lobster boil too long d after oni half a glass of tequila sunrise. u look at her face!!! n her cheeks wuz srsly burning up when i touched them. i sit beside her can feel her radiating solar power.

bt i happen to tink that she's way hotter after she mabuk d xD. her smile also becum broader :3...

so afterwards, in case i order sommore pina colada, i faster call for the bill and pay lor. n while we were waiting for the bouncer guy at bluewater's front gate to call for an auto (also called tuk-tuk in siam and jawa) for us, we challenged each other to stupid drunk tests. like walking in straight line. and throwing stuff into the air and catching them with one hand oni. the other clubbers whu were just coming in gave phoebe funny looks (not me cos i damn the sober). wait wait wait!!! i just remember somthing funny!!! when we juz exited that place n was walking to the bouncer, phoebe suddenly just drop the purse she was holding in her hand!!! like walk walk walk walk then drop... can't even hold her purse properly d LOL!!!111!1 after oni 1 cocktail!!

i duno y la but when the auto came d, and phoebs and i was walking out, i accidentally ter-kicked the door. and i said sorry to it xD. the bouncer fella and his frens was there and they all LOL at me..

i wana go bek there to makan again next week :D



where got drunk leh,
k0k s4n w3i

Shady Solly

"Yerr, I like your new room sooo much!"

Chun Mun,
whose new room in Premier Residence doesn't rock as much as mine

"I wish I booked this place earlier! Can I stay in your upstairs room?"

Torng Lei,
from whom I 'stole' the room by paying the deposit before she did

"Okay."

Me, the alcohol talking

Looks like I'm finally sober again (after a solid 12 hours sleep). Now, courtesy of Inn Shan, who was kind enough to loan me his magical-picture-snapping-device, I can take you on a virtual tour through my new casa.

In the spirit of cheaply imitating those uppity English home-owners, I have named my place Shady Solly. I'd explain why but I've decided against such a vulgar display of lameness.

But first, let's share a flashback moment of my room in good ol' Nehru;

This is where Bollywood shot most of its Hindi horror flicks.

After living there for a whole year, I've still yet to figure out how to turn on the lights in the corridor. This is all part of MAHE's master plan to save on the power bills - either the switch is camouflaged or the lights were just there for show.

Lesser men have gone insane living here.

Everytime I try to describe Nehru, 'Alcatraz' comes naturally to mind. This place is so dead that Queen Elizabeth II has more party life than it does - except when there's a power outage. Then, every inmate monkey resident would start screaming and wailing mournfully in their rooms. I do not know whether it was done for a spot of childish fun - or because the über geeks living here can't stand to be separated from their lecture notes for even 15 minutes.

MAHE is too cheap to tile the floor properly.

This is just my half of my room. The other half (not depicted in this photograph) belongs to my ex-roommate Inn Shan. After he moved out, his half of the room became the official trash can of the room. That's where I pile all my scrap papers, textbooks, snack-wrappings and dirty laundry - hence, providing the illusion of the supposed neatness of my half here.

'Ome, thweet 'ome.

I wondered long and hard at what the architect originally had in mind when he stacked my place on top of that dingy little room below. An 'Atlas with the World on His Shoulder' theme? Modern architecture? Marijuana?

Yellow means chill.

At the back, you'll find some steps. Looking at that lil' yellow gate, one can't help but think "What's that going to stop from going through? Tortoises?"

More steps.

My front door.

Extra TULAN Top Security

This is the most trusted brand in India when it comes to pad-locks. It comes fully charge with several megawatts of awesome 'Tulan' powerz that would fry any thief who attempts to break in. It's truly a great innovation in home security systems. Get one for yourself today!

My own anteroom! How deliciously posh!

Domicile Edict #1

No shoes shall go beyond this point. Law-breakers will be forced to hear me sing.

As decreed by,
k0k s3n w4i,
Lord Resident of Shady Solly

As soon as you enter.

This is my bedroom/guestroom/entertainment center. By entertainment center, I mean that my laptop and internet access will be located here. I hope you're not looking at the bed when I said that.

Not the entertainment centre.

'La toilette' - even shit-holes sound romantic in French.

Holy Mackerel! Two floors!

This is the main reason I've decided on this place. I mean - how many of my batch-mates have a place that is more than one floor? None! [Error: file evil_overlord_laughter.mp3 not found]

My coolness level have just gone up several thousand points just by living here. I'll be referred to as "that guy who stays in this place with two floors".

My study room.

This is the floor that Torng Lei wanted to rent from me. I'm still considering though. After all, I do need a place to pretend to study

One of the views from my balcony.

Chun Mun was saying, "OMFG, you're so cool to be living in a place with two floors!"

Li Lian was saying, "Where's my puppies?"

Incidentally, this Acharya Kompa'undhya I'm staying in is the center for breeding dogs in Manipal. Last I counted, there were at least 3 b!tches hanging around waiting for the next 'Daddy'. That b!tch clerk from the Chief Warden's office is applying for a position here.

Li Lian stays in a block shared by several other tenants - nothing as [cough] glamorous as mine.

Panoramic view of Acharya Kompa'undhya (yes, from my 1337 balcony).

Here's a bit of trivia about my balcony in case anyone's interested;

• It's as big as my study room.
• It's the highest vantage point in the whole of Acharya Kompa'undhya.
• Monkeys play here regularly.

The Indian sunset over Li Lian's block.

Ah - the proverbial million dollar view (though in this case, I'd chop off a couple decimal points) for only 3500 Rupees monthly. That's about RM280 at the moment according to XE.com.

What d'ya think?



Ps: I'm leaving for Malaysia tomorrow morning. Approximate touch-down time would be morning of March 2. There will be no updates till then.



That guy who stays in this place with two floors,
k0k s3n w4i

The Customary Meaningless First Post of Every Blog Ever

"Nobody understands me!"

Adolf Hitler

It was largely a caffeine-induced tangent that led me to the construction of this weblog. I already owned such a medium for expressing my inconsequential thoughts in the humble form of a Friendster blog – in which I catered to an exclusive audience (i.e. acquaintances of yours truly force-fed with crap of my own penmanship). It is by an idea bordering on outright delusions that I should strive out of that tiny hole I squatted in to reach a larger audience “out there” in the World Wide Web [insert fanfare here]/

Of course, it is entirely futile to convince me that such audiences wishing to hear me speak are completely fictitious and are figments of my egomaniacal imaginings.

Also, I offer my apologies for being overtly loquacious, one of the least charming of my failings. Admittedly, I imagined that this mode of speech gives the illusion and erroneous impression that I am marginally intelligent. Don’t be fooled – I’m actually way smarter than that.

With the birth of my spanking new weblog, I deem that it is only appropriate that I draft a list of resolutions, principles and objectives - those lofty ideals we stick on dartboards;

• I solemnly swear to glorify the name of Herr Hitler, the most evil and emo of supervillains the world had ever clapped eyes upon.
• I shall commit countless hours writing lengthy and tedious dissertations on why I am more 1337 than you.
  
• I am going the bore the sh!t out of your colons.
• Resolutions, principles and objectives are for puss!es.

There.

It's nice to have that out of the way. Expect new posts in the month of March, as soon as I kick the University Examinations out into orbit.

Emo Hitler is watching you.

Now available on the internet,
k0k s3n w4i