Consider the following conversation on MSN, with a person who has yet to identify himself.

my new subaru says:
i think i know you
ezra says:
you do?
ezra says:
pray tell how you do
my new subaru says:
through Jesus
ezra says:
wow
ezra says:
and what did He tell you about me?
my new subaru says:
seriously..i have no clue..

    ...what I used for this.

I've just realised who I am.

I speak a few languages but not perfect at any.
I'm not the shortest among my peers but I'm not standing tall at 5'7" either.
I don't stutter but I do mumble.
I'm smart but I'm not wise.
I know my way around Photoshop but I don't know what CSS is.
I have answers to problems but none to mine.
I started out loving science but haven't touched a calculator in years.
I have the gift of gab but lose it around an employer or a pretty girl.
People laugh at me, not with me. At least I make people laugh?!
I'm a nerd who once got pissed drunk on a regular basis.
I play the drums better than my friends, but never good enough to land a recording contract.
I taught guitar for two years but I cannot play a guitar solo.
I excel at school probably to end up slaving behind a cubicle.

I think of the wittiest things to say but never remember enough to write them down.

I am mediocre.

I'm  watching the snails in the fishbowl behind me perform a menage du trois. Ah the joy and wonder of work.

I have to be frank. I am more than obligated to what I deem the best marketing communications college ever. This is blatantly biased, but when someone gives you RM 66,000 worth of scholarships one must feel more than gratitude. Servitude comes to mind. And to think I'm not even bound to them upon completion of my degree.

"How then," you may say, "do you show them your gratitude?" Simple. Indulge them for photos, interviews, and other publicity stunts. Do your goddamn best in your studies. And of course, be a good ambassador. The latter was not particularly easy, since one does not go around soliciting for potential students. That is plain bad form in marketing, akin to cold-calling. Nevertheless, I was quite surprised when a certain young lady asked me about her impending tertiary education path. This is the conversation that took place on Multiply, over the course of a few days, unedited and unabridged. Just to prove I AM doing my bit for the glory of IACT :P

_______________________________________________________________________


hello poster boy for IACT :),

do you usually entertain questions regarding the field of mass comm / advertising from very lost post-secondary school girls who need to make huge decisions about college but dont really know where to start? :D

sincerely,
lost post-secondary school girl


lowezra wrote on Jan 8

dear lost post-secondary school girl,

yes, i have to. it's all part of being an ambassador for IACT, which is what i'm morally obligated to do after accepting two scholarships worth RM65,000 from them.

bear in mind that surveys show that even tertiary education does not dictate what you'll become in the future, unless you're one of those braniacs who does medicine. so rest asssured that your choice of colleges/universities is not a final, conclusive choice that affects you for the rest of your life.

that aside, if you're interested in the field of mass comm/advertising, i believe you have huge potential after seeing what you did for your prom. mass comm is a very broad field most commonly mistaken for being the choice of high-school drop-outs, possibly only after the creative arts. it includes (and is not exhaustive of) broadcasting, marketing communications, promotions, production, event management, brand management, public relations, journalism, creative design, copywriting, business knowledge and international relations acumen...the list goes on.

what separates the mass comm ah bengs in TAR and the creme-de-la-creme is the will to succeed, a passion for effective communication, good people skills and of course, excellent english, a plus point which is your sharp advantage over many, many others.

if you do decide to pursue this path, your career choices are very wide indeed. employment can be found anywhere - every organisation needs people like you. the fact that i'm doing hotel management as a part-time job attests to that, marketing background notwithstanding.

yours,
poster boy for IACT


pinkpau wrote on Jan 8

dear poster boy,

thank you for your reply! it was most enlightening and for that i am grateful .. :D

do you know if it's possible to major in advertising and minor in psychology? and if a double major of aforementioned pairing is possible? i kept getting all sorts of weird reactions at the edu fair yesterday when i expressed my wish to pursue both mass comm and psych :( also, how about major advertising, minor psych, minor PR? or is that going to be just entirely unnecessary?

you were a recipient of the Star Education Fund scholarship, righty?

would you recommend a psychology major or a mass comm major?

the distraught,
lost secondary school girl


lowezra wrote on Jan 9

dear lost post-secondary school girl,

i've never heard of such a pairing before. granted, i've had my options open for psychology, me being a ardent fan of the human psyche, but i've found that that's completely unneccessary especially after going through 3 years in IACT's marketing communications program. (they did have consumer behaviour and media, society and psychology as subjects but that's not the point.)

what happens when you do mass comm is that you get an insight into the consumer mind, which is what usually happens in the brainspace of the modern human anyway. what you get in psychology is a very fancy degree and lots of very (literally) disturbing clients.

i'm not undermining psychology, but it is my opinion that you can learn psychology yourself whereas there's a goldmine of knowledge buried deep within mass comm. the trick is to find yourself a good college/uni which teaches you the right shit.

i am a receipient of the Star scholarship, and a reciepient of the tunku jaafar memorial scholarship offered by IACT which gave me the moolah to come here in the first place.

at the end of the day, i'm drunk and it's up to you to decide. trust me, you know enough of the human psyche.

yours,
poster boy


pinkpau wrote on Jan 9

dear poster boy,

okie so which would make a better minor, psychology or PR? or something else altogether like journalism?

argh so torn!

was the Star scholarship tough to obtain? am thinking of applying .. :)

also, thanks so much for all the advice thus far, poster boy! :)

post sec school girl


lowezra wrote on Jan 11

dear post-secondary school girl,

journalism goes very well with PR. in fact, these two are sworn arch-enemies, or the yin and yang of free publicity, depending on how you look at it.

you could well try to go for something of the sort, a related major and minor. then again, you may argue that psych is related to PR. or vice versa. my advice is to choose a related minor. PR and journalism. psychology and psychiatric pharmeceuticals? i'm making this up. but you get my drift.

better this than to juggle your brain in two separate ways. anyway if you want the Star scholarship i don't think you have much choices in choosing majors/minors. mine came as one big package. they'll list out exactly what you're majoring for in the scholarship you're applying for. in my time IACT only had one package, so it made no difference. but if you check out the list for other colleges you'll notice that not all their courses are up for grabs under the Star Edu Fund. choose wisely. i don't think you get to switch majors around once you're under the scholarship. different rates mah.

like this PR thingy i'm doing...i didn't get a choice. some of former IACT alumni have gone on to do business, marketing even multimedia though we did exactly the same thing back home. i can't complain, it's paid for. PR was the only choice for a full-scholarship.

i think you'll ace the interview, especially if you remind them how ambitious you are and what you did for your school prom. but don't force it down their throats.

i remember one of the questions they asked me (somehow they didn't ask the others) was "if you had a million dollars, what would you do with it?" muthafcuker. i answered, rather honestly, that i would use part of it to pay off my dad's debt so i wouldn't have to go through horrifying scholarship interviews just to go to college.

noting their expressions, i stammered, "well, i suppose i'll use the rest to set up a scholarship fund to help other students like myself who can't afford college. everybody deserves a chance."

i think that one nailed it on the head. my luckiest break in life ;)

regards,

IACT poster boy


pinkpau wrote today at 3:05 AM ET

dear IACT poster boy,

so psychology is out as a minor? i really dont think i should do PR, even as a minor ... i'm not good at handling people, really :P i think i would ruin the company i work for.

okay say if i pick Advertising as my major .. i'll be going into mass comm at Taylors. problem : ADP or diploma?

bout Star scholarship.. yea okie i'll look thru and pick wisely :) the interview -- do all applicants go for it or is it a shortlisted bunch that makes it?

nice answer to the million dollar question, btw! i love it.

lost post secondary school girl


lowezra wrote today at 4:10 AM ET

dear lost post-secondary school girl,

i just find the pairing weird, that's all. not to say you can't try it. be adventurous, but most importantly, be sure it's something you want.

heck i've no idea about the ADP or diploma. pick the most challenging one. seriously. you'll have lots of competitors in the workplace next time. prove to your future employers that you have the will to go through shit and survive.

i can't remember...but i think it depends? whatever it is, i'm pretty sure you'll at least be picked for the interview. i'm pretty sure you'll ace it too!

like i said, it was a fluke. a very lucky one indeed ;)

best regards,

IACT poster boy


pinkpau wrote today at 5:35 AM ET

dear iact poster boy,

okay i think i've run out of questions .. :D thanks for all the help + advice so far! much much appreciated.

though would you mind if i came to you in the future if i have more questions?

+ lost post secondary school girl


lowezra wrote today at 6:16 AM ET

What's your MSN contact? This Multiply back-and-forth thingy is getting annoying.


pinkpau wrote today at 8:14 AM ET

oh haha sorry..!

lostpostsecondarygirl@someemailaddress.com

Mike, the old guy who does maintenance where I work has had an illustrious life. At least that’s what I think. For someone 72 years old, and who’s lived through a World War, the advent of the jetliner, Elvis to Nirvana, a few Labour and National governments, rock and roll to hip hop, changing landscapes, a marriage and a few deaths, two cars and a boat, from coastguard to owning a dairy, the introduction of the computer age, and more recently the Asian invasion of Auckland, he’s a guy who’s seen the most tremulous part of the frail part of life we call human history.

And he’s lonely for Christmas eve.

So being in the same boat as he was, I proffered a dinner. He was doing night duty at Quest on Mount, and had a room with an oven, microwave…the works. Turned out I didn’t have to do anything at all. He offered half a dozen beers and a microwave dinner. Might as well, I thought. So there I was sitting with an empty stomach filled with two Stella Artois, half-charmed and relaxed as he told me everything from how the current manager was being a dick to how his wife left him. Which was sad, really.

 10 grandfather stories later, I found out I couldn’t really concentrate. My mind was wandering too far. I excused myself and stood at the balcony on his 13th floor apartment, taking in the breathtaking view of Auckland and the harbour beyond. I hadn’t lit my cigarette but I smelt smoke anyway. It struck me that I was in apartment 13C, right next to 13B. That particular one holds some significance. It’s the one where Jason (the desperado engineering student from Hong Kong who does maintenance as well) lost his ability of speech when Penny walked out of the shower with just a towel around her.

Penny and her mom have been living in apartment 13B for more than a month now. Her mom’s the girlfriend of a guy who’s here on business, though he doesn’t look it. Quite frankly, her mom’s an older version of she is, which says a lot seeing she’s as hot as a coal in hell. They left the cold winter of England to steam up New Zealand with their presence. Every time she walks by the little cubicle they call the reception area, she smiles. Just that split second is enough to make me return the smile for an hour more. Of course, I’d be smiling to myself but it’s a good thing she doesn’t know it.

 Anyway Penny was out on her balcony.

“Hey Penny, er, merry Christmas.” “Hey,” she started up.

“Erm, you, er, no plans for tomorrow, no, tonight?”

“Nah, it’s just me and my mom tonight. Thought of some pub maybe.”

“I thought you had a date today?”

 “Huh?”

“That guy you were walking out with today. I, er, saw you with a guy. A guy…er…some guy?”

“What guy?”

“I could swear there was a guy…”

At this point I felt my face burn and I’m certain it wasn’t because of the beer or the sunburn I got from surfing at Raglan two days before. Oh shit, she knows I notice her every move like some perv.

“Hahaha, no, just me and my mom tonight.”

“Auckland must be full of guys huh…I mean, anyone you wanted to go out with.”

“Hahaha yeah I guess. What are your plans for tonight?”

 “Nothing…just me and Mike. Two lonely guys…” (At this point I realized how sad I sounded.)

 “Well, I’ll holler from here if you wanna come along.” (Cue mindblowing smile.)

 In my head was a Hanson concert at full blast with people swaying to the chorus of "Penny and Me".

 And I watched her disappear back into the room, those mini denim shorts capping a blur of perfect long legs. And so I resigned myself to a long night ahead with Mike for company. But a Nutcracker musical and some Brittany Murphy movie later, I had had enough. I took my leave and left. Poor Mike. This was supposed to be his night, not mine.

 Right now I’m back home. Home alone for Christmas Eve. Julien’s friends from France flew over today; they’re going on a round trip around New Zealand. The only saving grace was the pastis (anise liqueur, but tasted like anus liquor ) that went through the customs. Now I’m tipsy, lonely, and going to bed. Shit I’m hungry. What I wouldn’t give for a good hot meal with good company my age.

So long, farewell, auf weidersehn, goodnight. I wonder where Penny is tonight.

Yesterday I went out drinking with friends for the first time. Well, not really friends friends as in one huge bunch of pimping friends friends since it was just another two guys and Darren was the only one I knew. The other guy was a Jap guy named Shingo or something...Darren's flatmate. It all started when I ajaked Darren to go see Guy Cater, this hypnotist who had a free show in the Uni's student bar.It was the first time I was in there...quite surprised they didn't ask for my ID. Jugs of Tui (the local brew) were only at $5, and a jug had about 3 mugs in it. So not bad, not bad...Still cheap after conversion, considering it's a bar. So us three Asian guys waited at a lil corner table for the fun to start.Guy Cater (that's his real name) is this balding guy with a ponytail, whose wife was assisting him with the music. HE WAS HILARIOUS. He asked for a group of volunteers, who filled up the semi-circle of seats on stage. He then proceeded to explain how he was going to hypnotize them. You know how sometimes when you drive and you suffenly realise you have no recollection of the last 5 kms? Same principle - neither awake or asleep. It took only about minutes for him to put them all under. There were 2 very willing girls in the volunteer circle who totally added fun to the thing due to their very short skirts. Guy reminded us that no one under hypnotism will do anything against their principles...then quipped that no one in Vesbar had principles anyway. The most hilarious part was when this guy's impersonation of Shania Twain. You could tell he actually was a closet fan in real life...he mouthed all the words EXACTLY. There was also the part where Guy gave them all spectacle frames and told them they were X-ray glasses...and they'd be able to see the opposite sex completely naked.Their faces were hilarious.One guy went so far as to ask for those glasses again. Guy gave him a pair then told him that those glasses would only make him see other guys naked. The fucker's face was damn funny...he actually screamed. Of course, needless to say at the end of the whole thing I felt as though my stomach was gonna explode. The worst part of it all was that Guy allowed them to remember what a fool they made of themselvesI bought two jugs to share and had two of my own. Needless to say that when I was done I didn't walk home...I staggered. Past all the main city streets. I was impressed at myself for not letting my bladder blow. So that was that.Oh, and I learnt a new phrase: "Onatawa gu opai suki". I hope I got it right. It means "I love breasts". I had more fun that night than all the nights out I had combined since coming here.That's me for now. Mish you all.

You can’t expect me to be the person you want me to be all the time. I’m at the brink of many a time I thought I’d be, and I’m fearing it all the same. The thought of what would be, what should be, what is and what was is all too much for me to bear. It’s just the thought that I would rather forsake courage and the societal stereotype of what I’m supposed to be rather than bear with what is here and now.

There’s so much I want to tell, but so little courage. Listen to my ramblings then. Judge me if you must. It’s only human. It’s human for you to judge, but let the record show that you must judge my right to be afraid as well.

The times I long for what could have been, I still cherish in my heart. What I make of it though, is a completely different matter. Do I take it as something I’ll strive for one day, forsaking you; or should I take it as what could have been a beautiful mistake? Time and time again, I’m reminded by circumstances and the beautiful people I meet that life is short, and whatever they say about heaven and hell, well, there still is one, and only one, middle ground on which we stand on. This phase in existence we call life. This finite plane of infinite possibilities, the irony of eternity and mortality all rolled into one. I did not choose this existence, nor this life, and I certainly don’t want the responsibility of seeing it to the end. But we have no choice. And you must understand that I’m terrified of fucking this up. Certainly not with the idea of you.

It’s you and me, and in lieu of this finite time we had together, I’ve always felt bound by this to eternity. Bound, you and me – bound as one. I’m losing my existence to you day by day, and the more I do so I’m so afraid I’ll never be able to pull back. Do I want to rip it apart? The more I delve deeper and deeper into what is your beautiful soul the more I risk my own. I’m beginning to see through your eyes, the beauty in which you view my world puts everything into a different perspective. You’re taking my complications and making them your ruby butterflies. What’s simple is true. What’s me is you.

At the end of the day, all I want is to be happy. Help me out here. I want you the way you are. I hope you feel exactly the same way too.

My life is brilliant.
My love is pure.
I saw an angel.
Of that I'm sure.
She smiled at me on the subway.
She was with another man.
But I won't lose no sleep on that,
'Cause I've got a plan.

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.

Yeah, she caught my eye,
As we walked on by.
She could see from my face that I was,
Fucking high,
And I don't think that I'll see her again,
But we shared a moment that will last till the end.

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
I saw your face in a crowded place,
And I don't know what to do,
'Cause I'll never be with you.
You're beautiful. You're beautiful.
You're beautiful, it's true.
There must be an angel with a smile on her face,
When she thought up that I should be with you.
But it's time to face the truth,
I will never be with you.

went back sunday evening after that wild wild party...no one was
around and everyone had some father's day thing on so i thought i'd
make my way back. the sun was already setting, and for the first time in my life, as i was heading towards the damansara toll, i saw a rainbow over uptown.

almost cried thinking of all i was going to leave behind. you were my life for the past 3 years. and come to think of it, you all have seen my change from the naive idealist to the bum without hope and now finally, someone wiser and stronger. there are some things that have changed a lot in me, and some things which will never (e.g. horniness and skirt-chasing, but you all already know), but one thing i've
learnt that if it wasn't for all of you there would have never had
been a constant in my life, something i could rely on, something i
could fall on.

i know when i step on that airplane, i'll be going into a time
machine; cuz the next timei come home would be in one and a half
year's time. i wouldn't have a home in Ipoh to come home to: my folks
would have already moved to some small crappy apartment in PJ. my sis would be flying halfway around the world with MAS; my dog would be given away to someone. and all of you would be working or making your ways in the world....and i'm sure you'll be far far away from where you are right now.

one thing i know for sure. you have been my landmark in this fast
changing world, at least for the past 3 years. your friendship has
borne me through some of the hardest times i've ever experienced in my life. and i'm thankful for that, seriously i have. remember the time i said in class relationships are better than friendships? i learnt how to swallow that in the past couple years.

my greatest regret is that i don't feel that i've been a friend in the same measure in return. if there only were a chance to make it up i surely will.

please don't forget me. i need something or someone familiar to come
home to.

It was 4:20am, and Iwas heading home from my friend's hotel room, where I had finished four Baron's in 45 minutes. I couldn't see much of the road, let alone drive. I was tired and sleepy, and I don't know why I didn't spend the night, but it could have had something to do with a surprise visit, some awkwardness, and the funny fact that I actually missed home.

Three hours ago I had settled deep into the shallow settee in the living room, watching Sin City with my dad. It was pirated, no doubt, and enjoying movies on his "home theatre system" was one of his few pastimes. I was feeling comfortable. I was almost considering not waiting for the call.

And now here I was, misjudging a turn as I made a last minute decision to take another route home. Hearing the screeching of the tyres and the loud explosion as one burst, I knew I was screwed. Metal shrieked as it made violent contact with the side wall of the pavement. Hitting the curb at 80, I was lifted up and immediately dropped. I heard the loud bang of the undercarriage against hard tar. I sat, motionless, for 5 minutes. The gears couldn't engage. You wouldn't believe the amount of weird people whom you meet in the wee hours of an Ipoh morning.

The tow truck pulled away. I started crying. Here I was, drunk and smelling of stale toddy in front of the person I was supposed to be the most responsible to. He wasn't silent, but only words of love came out. I was utterly ashamed. I have never been any more in my life.

Glancing through pictures shows you a past you never knew existed. He went through life the same way I did, and whatever shallow, angry words I used at him before were totally unjustified, and I knew it. He lived my life; he knew how it was to be me...once. He too had the same fears, which were realised, yet somehow I know he had more courage than I could ever had. It was not recently that I saw himself in me, and myself in him. I was him. I had his genes. My glories were once his, and my shortcomings obvious in his greying hair. And yet he lived my life before. To deny me of what his life was would amount to the denial of himself. He was courageous to admit it, and courageous enough to allow it.

We lived modestly, but he spent extravagantly, much to my mother's dismay, on us. He gave so much yet never asked for anything in return. Growing up, I have come to realize how much was the value of his sacrifices. I remember the promises he didn't back up, but I too realize the selfishness of the requests that perpetuated them in the first place. And still he trusted me. Days before the annoucement of the SPM results, he took me shoe-shopping. I loved loafers and saw a beautiful pair that was everything I wanted. I could afford it but he insisted on paying. It was a lot of money to me then, and I asked him why. He said "For your results." I told him I could flop every paper. He told me it was ok, and it was a reward for doing my best. I got 10As. It was all his.

And now I find myself thinking back of all the days I lost where I could have told him more. And I find myself promising him I'll make him proud.

I'll won't be the man he wished he was. I'll be the man he always is. Someday. I promise.

I was seated in a small coffeeshop in Karak, Pahang today when it hit me. Over the amazingly smooth patin and durian bombs, I realised that this would be one of those memories stuck in my head forever. There we were, Seng Hean and 1/4 of the Taiping Gang laughing and simply enjoying good friends and good food. All four girls were joking and squealing over Danny's newfound love (which was Gang Member No. 8 or something like that) and I was basically trying to ignore the looks other patrons we giving us because of the racket they made.

I loaded most of my stuff to the back of Seng Hean's Avanza,and Danny was there, getting his stuff out as well. Allan was helping me out a bit and I could tell he was kinda disappointed. A few nights ago he was complaining that he wouldn't be able to find roomies as "cool" as us. Flattered I was, but it was an overstatement. The new girl downstairs was moving her stuff in, and though I wanted to, I couldn't say I would miss the place. In fact, I couldn't stand the sight of one last glance. I couldn't explain it.

And there we were, us three guys, me watching as Danny had his Hokkien mee dinner. Talking about days gone by. Talking about 3 years in the making of the life I know. And there I was,wondering how different life would be when I return, wondering how much they'd change, wondering what paths life has prepared for us. I was thinking back to the first time I met them and how much things have changed. How much people have changed. And how the things we used to joke about have come true. And there it was. One of the last times I would meet Danny as my roomie for 3 years. No goodbyes, no farewells. Just that. Just the hope of what lay ahead. Maybe I was the only one reminiescing.

And here I am now, sitting in front of Seng Hean's PC, while all my stuff is in the maid's room. And here I am hoping that this next phase of life will be all rosy and predictable. Problem is, I know it won't be. And when I leave in 7 weeks, will it all take a turn for the worst? I'm trying to find a landmark of my life here, which would be my reference point before the concrete jungle sets in. That elusive landmark of photographs and dream-like memories which is now all that's left of my youth.

So this is the end.

Now I know how it looks like.

The day I met Gavin he came into the small glass room where i was with an ice-blended mocha with extra whipped cream. His tear-streaked face was already dry, painting two icy rivers down each cheek, ending at the corners of his small pouty mouth.

"Hi", he said in a strong Brit accent, while plonking down his cuppa, spilling cream on the bass amp.

"I'm Ezra, your new teacher", I said, extending a hand. He grabbed mine and pumped it up and down.

"Gavin. You're teacher number three."

"Well, yeah, the other teachers have left so I'll teach you instead. Do you mind?"

He grabbed the drumsticks. "Nope. Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah, sure."

"My brother, he fell down just now, and, and, he loves to cry, and, he went, Uuuh Uhhh Uhh..." Gavin then proceded to make loud wailing noises that I swore made everyone in the adjacent bowling alley stare. I suspected he was talking about himself from the tear-streaks on his wailing face. It was very convincing.

"Er, so Gavin, how many siblings do you have?"

"Huh?"

"Brothers and sisters. Do you have any brothers and sisters?"

"I've a brother. That brother. He's Aaron. And you want to know another secret?"

"Uh yeah, sure." I looked around to see whether his mom was nearby and staring angrily at me for making her son "cry".

"I had another brother. But he..." He hung his head and pouted.

"He...?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you. It's a secret. Only my dad, my mom and my family knows. I'm not supposed to tell you."

"Well, that's why they call secrets secrets. You don't have to tell if you..."

He looked up and chirpily said, "I'll tell you next week though."

I had no heart to tell Gavin that this would be our first and last class together.

Went to apply for the first ever passport I ever had in my life.

The first question the guy at the photo booth asked me was "Cina ke Melayu?"
"Er...Cina. Kenapa?"
"Cina jarang ada..." Then he made a stroking motion on his chin.
"Hahaha. Saya punya macam terrorist."

Yeah I do sport a sorry excuse for a goatee. That's because I'm Chinese and you should know that Chinese guys grow hair in the strangest of places. Like on the nipples and not on the chest. I mean I'm lucky enough to even have facial hair. At least it's not long and flowy and growing out of a huge mole on my cheek. And it must be the food here in Malaysia. You get stuff from all over. People have said I looked like everything from Chindian to Myanmese. Good grief. Still, with a name like mine it's easy to see why.

tell ya'll something my roommate has told me countless times

"you always get what you want and what you wish for"

while i've never agreed, i kinda get whatever i want just as long as i want it.
but i also get what i wish for, whether i really wished for it or not.
and that's really fucked up.
remember the midas touch?

if this is some divine game, then sometimes i wish that i could just die and get it over with.
see, the irony is that i will most likely do so...

so whatevver happens to me tomorrow, know that you have touched me in some way in my life. and i'll always treasure that. i'll bring memories to heaven. or if i can still remember would that make it hell instead?

the last time i remember my life as the way i wanted it to be was sitting in the passenger seat of seng hean's car as he was sending me home. it was 2am in the morning and the street was wet with the rain from a couple hours ago. it was at that point of time i realized that this was one of the last few times i'd be able to see the cold, silent form of the Uptown Square. the smelly, dirty shithole i've called home for three years. suddenly memories started flooding back. suddenly i realised those three years have changed me so much. both for better and worse. just changed me into the person i am today.

i cried the other day when i was going through all my photos and realised how fragile life can be. not for death or life, but for the things that make up what we call death and life. i realized that people make up my life. people are my life. and the constant circle of love and hate, pleasure and pain that they bring me i realise i bring to them also. i suddenly regretted all the mistakes i've done. i somehow feel they've perpetuated another cycle, changed someone's life, possibly forever.

do you believe in the chaos theory? the fractal science that has its principle based on the thought that miniscule matters can change the outcome of a universal process. every single thing people do changes the dynamics of life. a wrong decision, as small as it is, escalates into something out of proportion. i live in the constant fear that my mistakes, which aren't miniscule, change people's lives for the worst. especially people who have loved me and whom i have loved. i feel so selfish. i feel as though i've condemned people to die while i chose to save my own skin.

i've never fought in my life. if i were in a fight i think i'll drop after the first punch. but i've been a greater coward in life. i've been the greatest coward in love. the day i learn to be brave, the day i find my hero's welcome in someone's arms will be the day i'll gladly say i've lived life good, and i've lived life well.

today is the first day in the next phase of my life. i'm now officially a boy stuck in the body of an adult. the doors to the arena are opening and i'm already peeing in my pants. the day i find my strength i'll tell the world how i found the courage to say sorry.

i've had kinda weird dreams these days
dreams that make sense and dreams that don't
her parents kinda found out about me and i don't really feel comfortable
it's been 8 months now and the longer i wait for the revelation the longer i feel uneasy

had to choose my electives today...
and kinda wanted to do all business/marketing ones
maybe cuz her dad's the medical doctor
and i'm just a kid who does advertising and rides a bike
guess i'm just not parent-approved...never will be

she sent me the most amazing SMS
telling me she's love me no matter what other people say
the kinda thing that makes guys actually think about commitment and what that word means to them
and the fact that she will be gone for 4 years doesn't make it any easier
so you can't blame the dreams...i guess
nightmares more like it

having exams now and so much still on my mind
got the scholarship but have to think of how to support myself
kinda fucked up but i've been spending too much lately
the kinda spending that one has when one realizes that every day may be the last
last of what i don't know

feel like i'm coming round the bend
another major turning point in my life
wish me luck
i think i'm growing up