Choking for the Truth

I had a very bad flu today and yet I still can conjure up a speck of energy to swim. I practically paddled my 10 laps and had to dive quickly to the side of the pool to blow my nose. I'm swimming regularly for the past 2 weeks because I think it has an amazing soothing effect on my mind and body. Swimming can relax my tensed muscle and let my mind indulge in the semi-gravity of the moment (right before I run out of breath, kick myself back to the surface, gasping for air)

Since I can't really swim because of my running nose, I did water acrobatics, no no no not aerobics. Acrobatics. Feats and somesoults and the whole set of mind blowing maneuvers only divers and dolphines could do. While I was at it, half of the pool occupants watched my every dipping feets and arching back. I didn't realized the commotion since I was frantically trying to delegate my oxygen usage.

In the midst of loud bubbling and -in the moment- slowing of time, I kinda contemplated on a subject, a subject that is all to common to us: Denial.

Diving into the pool is like taking chances, trying to enjoy the moment by working up a force to keep balance. Being in denial is like staying in the pool and thinking that our world is the pool. One would realize that they'll be out of breath and struggle to get back to the surface but if the denial persists, one would think that the surging of water into one's nose and mouth is oxygen. In less than thirty seconds, denial will take hold of our mind and kill us.

And since denial is a state of mind, another state of mind will be killed. And there's no turning back.

Unless we look up.

When we do, a blurring image of real-time motion will hit our conscience and our whole body will ignore the mind's foolish indulgence and struggle to breathe, to live.

But when denial stood the age of time, when Self Realization suffocated along with its sisters, Truth and Reality, denial will take another form, an even dangerous state of mind:

In denial of thinking that everybody else is in denial.

By then, as one lies dead in the water, drowned by one's own perception of Life, one would observe paddling feets and gliding bodies and people rushing to the surface before looking up and think:

"What the hell do they think they are doing? Don't they realize that they are on the wrong side of the world? Bloody Fools~"

Be careful Guys

There will be new intakes this sem in several uni and colleges across the country so read on, wannabe grads!
There are three things we college folks religiously spend our money on: handphones, cars/bikes and girlfriends.
I find this preposterous since most of us are currently under loan. I mean, it's not free money baby, its hutang. PTPTN are like loan sharks, you'll only be able to complete the payment once you're in your late thirties. You'll probably work your ass off to pay off the loan, house and car rent and the mother of all mass financial destruction: KAHWIN...
So think before you spend you money on the new Nseries guys. Your chinese peers don't really have to pay any loan because most of their parents are paying Uni and college fees for them. They believe in the great cycle, to think of their other 6 generation's future. So let them gorge at Starbucks or Secret Recipe, join them only when they want to belanja you. Yeah.
Alternatively, we should keep some of our PTPTN money and invest it in business ventures and seek entrapenuer-driven oppurtunities. Work now, enjoy later.
We have to break the cycle guys. We have to make sure we are in control of our financial situation. We have to make sure that our children do not have to receive burdening loans. We have to jumpstart our financial independance. Coz no one else will.


Alumni Institut Al-Quran Kuala Lumpur(I'm the one wearing a green baju melayu)
I met one of my IQKL friends and talked for hours. I reminisced my unforgettable experiences when I was in IQKL and he talked about his future plans. Tired of our constant reminiscing, we went into a mamak store and ordered milo ais.
"Ko tak trauma ke Afiq?"
"Trauma ape?" I frowned.
"Trauma la..." He insisted.
"Yelah trauma pasal ape?"
"Kene ehem."
"Kene ape?"
"Kene waktu malam."
"Aku jarang kene rotan ah dulu..."
"Bukan tuh.."
"Ko tak tau ke? Kalo tak tau takpelah."
"Taktau ape? Ah, ko dah mula cerita, kenelah habiskan!"
"Ok ok, ko tau kan ko dulu kan jambu.. skarang pun sebenarnye." He laughed.
"Dulu malam malam budak2 suka ehem ko."
"HAH? Sila spesifik sikit?" I demanded.
"Bukan kene liwat, budak suka raba ko?"
"Ramai jugak la, aku pun tak ingat tapi ramai gak."
"Sekaligus? Aku tak perasan pun! SAPERRR?"
"Tak tak, taknak pulak aku nak bagitau ko saper tapi ramai la, tapi lain masa. Dorang pun tak tau orang lain suke rabe ko jugak kot."
"Macam mane ko tau?"
"Aku jenis yang selalu bangun malam2. Memang ade la aktiviti ni selalunyer, maklumla asrama lelaki tapi ko lah paling kerap kene. Aku ingatkan ko tau."
"Tak aku tak tau."
I was so pissed off.
"Relek ah Afiq, nyesal pulak aku bagitau, aku ingat ko tau."
"Tak aku tak tau. Aku tak pernah tau."

You Pervs~

Something is definitely fishy about my blog's rating. I mean, do you really like to see me shirtless? Or do I have a strong gay fan base? (I'm not gay btw) I took a picture of myself just after I woke up after the terrible ordeal. You should've seen my face though, it was wrecked beyond recognition.
Yes yes, I delivered several cards to some customers at their hostels. Sisters's hostel. Blerghhh...

I put on my black jubah, and wore a sampin over my head to make it work like a stylo tudung. I then had some ingenious make-up on (colour pencils) and put on shades to hide my Charlie Simpson-Chinese Warlord eyebrows. For extra precaution, I sprayed my eyes with listerine to make it look teary thus supporting my fashion sense. I could either be a grieving ex-gf or a girl with conjunctivitis.

Nobody noticed my disguise except for one sister. I asked her for directions and she was puzzled by my apparel.

"Awak ni....?"

"Oh, saya Afiqah." I answered.


After delivering the cards, I rushed back to my car with my fake bossoms sliding down to my waist and my pants unusually heavy with excess laundry. It was exhilarating then to do something extremely ridiculous but the next morning I felt like a complete douche bag. I was like "OMG, I'd totally messed up my balance cycle! I was so fudging drag. A good muslim drag... but that's not the point."

Well, I did it and nobody can prove that I did it. That's all that counts anyways. For all you know, that weird broad-shouldered sister could've been a vindictive young Datin who'd had a little too much muscle-gain formula.

If this life tale of mine is not interesting enough to attract as many readers like my out of bed picture did, this picture of me and Shasha will definitely do the trick:

(Ah, I can see you eyeing my sexy Shasha, you pervs!)


I did something extremely stupid last night. SO FUDGING STUPID that it could have caused massive damage to my personal life. That thing was adventurous and fun last night but now when the gravity of the situation slowly seeps in my conscience, I regretted every minute of it. I woke up feeling like a piece of undignified trash.
No no.. I'm still a virgin.
No, I didn't kill anyone.
No, I didn't drink, do drugs or anything like that.
I'll leave you with a clue, it involves a Tudung and a Black Shade.

Today I learned that whenever I have the hankering to say something remotely alien to topics discussed ( I do that a lot), fake a cough. The pop-goes-the-weasel thing I wanted to say will shove its hazel ass back into the machine.
Our brain is much smarter than we think it really is. It can process speech and translate different depth of the speech's content. It translates the state of emotion of the speaker, the state of urgency of the subject and of course, evaluate whether or not the speech is any important to us. But more than that, it also reverse the speech backwards. This is normally done subconsciously. Scary innit?
The left brain will process the reverse speech and embeds the information in our subconscious mind. This explains a research done on teenagers who listens to certain rock songs. They will respond to the reversed message by justifying it in their mood swings. If a song tells teenagers to smoke hashies, they will have the hankering to do it.
Weird but true..
The malay version sounds cooler.
Pelik tapi benar....


Father: Hello.... Mollykutty?

Mollykutty: Yes daddy?

Father: You see Mollykutty last night I went errr... bought shares and unfortunately you see, the stock closed early and I was shoved aside the road spinning, begging for mercy.

Mollykutty: You gambled, got drunk and was kicked out from the bar. Got it.

Father: The thing is, I no money to pay the water bill soooooo you see, come over to Bukit Bintang tomorrow and standby underneath the monorail. They'll be a free shower from morning to evening.

Mollykutty: Okay daddy.

Father: Ask your sisters Ashwarya and Kajol to come along too ah Mollykutty.

Mollykutty: *wags head*

We went to Gombak Police Station to do our case study yesterday and we'd interviewed a police officer about the current design of the police station. We started off asking questions about lockup dimensions and drifted to current affairs; Hindraf to be precise.

The police officers told us that there were many officers from all over Malaysia on standby around KL to assist local police to control demonstrations and some of them have been here for over 2 weeks. Since rumours of upcoming demonstrations circulates relentlessly, they have no chance to go back home to their families. "Depa dah marah tu! Kalo betoi la ada Hindraf punye demonstration lagi, pakat bantai la! Yalah bini tak jenguk nak dekat sebulan!"

It's funny how Hindraf is justifying their actions. A Hindraf demonstrater was interviewed on the streets during the demonstration by Al-Jazeera.

"You call this a free country. They don't even let us demonstrate and express our views on the country. Look! They are throwing tear bomb everywhere, one of my indian brothers head was drenched with blood when one of the bombs hit him on the head! Kroghhhhh, Petuih! (spits)"

Al-Jazeera tried to find the guy drenched in blood, only to found out that the guy only sustained a considerable bump on the head.


And COME ON, ethnic cleansing! Are they sure it's not punic cleaning? Where are they getting their information, Pelita CurryHouse?

And Pak Lah was so mad about the whole thing he struggled to express his anger but was at last successful at it by proclaiming it. Yeah! Way to go monotono!

Now for international news, back to you Afiq.

Thank you Afiq.

I'd noticed hidden satanic symbols and signs 4 years ago when I was 16. I was staring at a Vodafone ad and saw 666 on it. More followed throughout the years, especially when I know more about the symbols I should be looking for.

And you know how subliminal messages provoking us to smoke, do drugs, have sex and other immoral behaviors are embedded in songs to make us do those things unconciously. Like the Asereje song or Hotel California, or even High School Musical and recently hip hop songs. I find it ironic that I hated these songs for no reason, even though I didn't know then that it was encoded with secret messages. God is Great.

Here are some clues about the satanic symbols you should watch out for:

Hardly Breathing

I'd had an almost fatal asthma attack and was finally released from the hospital yesterday. It was painfully dreadful to breathe in the same mask for the whole week, it's like smelling my own hospitalized breath 24/7. The doctors told me that I was recently infected by a denggi mosquito and with my asthma still active, it had affected my lungs and liver. I will lose control of both organs in six months time and unless I found an organ donour, I will be... you know.. man! The doctors told me to stay positive. I will live through this. I will. Because I have to.
You've no idea how greatful I felt when the doctor said that I have 6 more months to be leading a relatively normal life.
I'm even more greatful that I made all this up and none of the series of events are true.
Anyways, I'd finished a few hundred cards ready for sale in my blogspot e-shop. Making cards are therapeutic and has a splendid calming effect on me. I've only made two collections, Emomania and Princess. The Princess collection are completely handmade; it is made out of pink vomit, glitters and other princess-ish elements I could think of. And when I say Princess I am not referring to royalty princesses (Princess D taking a dip nakkeeed) but small girls and their infactuation with butterflies, flowers and that impossible colour: pink.
It'll be for sale next week. I've already received early bookings and I'm pretty sure business will do fine, considering the number of people going 'Ooooooh... berape ni?" when they saw the cards.
It's only 6 ringgit, which is 10 ringgit cheaper than similar cards sold my Hallmark or other gift co.
And emomania is all about the emo culture. I'll try to tap into specific trends and cultures in Malaysia, considering card manufacturers here tend to distant themselves from popular cultures.
It will be sold in another blog in a few days time.

I Miss My Beaches

Some people like paddy fields, others like waterfalls. I like beaches. Beaches are great teachers. They teach you about humility, serenity and most importantly, self reflection. It roars and reminds you how small you are, how easy it is to gulp you down and thrust you in its freezing belly. It whispers its arrival and grumbles its exit.
It it two extreme personification of beauty; the gentle horizon of calmness and solitude and the merciless rapier of homes and lives.


I am not as complicated as you would think I am, really.

I am as normal as karipap.

When I get older, which is going to definitely happen! I want to build my own library. It will have stacks upon stacks of books, refining every absence of space, detailing every slab of walls with its shimmering gold labels. There will be another large hall where Mozart, Tchaikovsky, Bach and Chopin swindles the morning air with lust and drama and betrayal and their insane concoction of harmony.

And another hall surrounded with silly bits of food, each sized no more than a teaspoon.

And a huge bed topped with orgies of pillows.



(I've got to grow up)

Cisum is Music backwards. So is Nasyid.

I was browsing through my classical music collection and decided to make proper playlists by similar mood and 'feel'.
They are all different for your information. Classical music range from the middle age to the era of avantgarde. My personal favourite is Scarlatti and Vivaldi and sometimes Beethoven. Scarlatti's flow of emotion is more realistic unlike Mozart's bombastic piercing octave, sakit telinga-sakit otak. Vivaldi is immensely festive. You may even heard his Primavera in a lot of movies with grand ball settings.
And I was suddenly struck by a piece composed by Scarlatti and was sang by Cecilia Bartoli. It caught me off guard. When Mentre Lo Godo finished, my eyes became dams of monsoon tears. Aiseh. It's like listening to a mourning Sundanese song. Music truly trascends cultural borders. How can we live without it?
Can't wait to go to the My Chemical Romance concert! Woohooo!
Eyeliner, check!
Emo fringe, check!
Tight fitting tees, errrr.. pass.

Damn it

I miss Hadi and Aful.
I don't miss people easily. It is not my lack of empathy. It's just me. My life has never been constant. Like any other policemens' children, we'll move from one school to another every year and yeah, the divorce had me going places I'd never imagined. Those collective childhood experiences had somehow taught me an unlikely lesson; to avoid being attached with anything (or anyone)
Once I was enrolled in IIU, I met another guy who had a strangely similar childhood story and slowly, throughout a stretch of 4 years studying architecture, we became close friends. We'll probably never admit to this but we share almost everything that happened in our lives in subtle conversations on a daily basis, 5 minutes min, 2 hours max.
We consulted future plans and schemes with each other and shared interests, knowing deep inside we're going to follow our own paths in a few years time and will somehow rendevous back to our common ground, our quirky conversations. He has a monotonous voice that shows no emotions whatsoever. I have a shrieky voice that conjures up every bit of drama in everything. It'll be like a relatively quiet script rehersal of a relatively boring sketch: the King and the Jester. The jester that comes up with weird illogical ideas and the king who makes sense of it.
This entry isn't suppose to be about that guy, damn it.
It's about me.
It was supposed to be about me.
Oh yeah, you know what? Yesterday I woke up shouting 'Hit it Fergie'. Hahah. All in a day's quirk and loco-loco.

Hey Now

I made dinner today. Pasta. The carbonara sauce was pink in colour. Eeeeek.
Hmmm.... I remembered commenting on Syazwina's opinion on the BERSIH demonstration. I also remembered she'd written something about the French Revolution. The French revolution was not as smooth as described in our SPM history textbook. They were thousand of short trials and beheading sparked by Robespierre and was ended by the beheadings of Maximilian Robespierre himself.
It wasn't pretty.
England, Russia and Austria took advantage of france's situation and if it wasn't for Napoleon, the country will not even exist today.
Demonstrations and protests can only be made possible if there is understanding of ethical reception by all parties. The protesters has to understand that it is their civil duty to behave and protest peacefully. Protesters must also understand that their protest should not be of any interest of other political parties. They should diminish protesters who has mafia or underground affiliation. Only then can their purpose for protesting be vindicated.
The government has got to learn how to goddamn listen. They will not do so if the protest has people like Anwar Ibrahim and Harun Din in it. Common sense people, common sense. Kick these highrollers off the marching field. You don't need no leader. You are a leader of your own problem and together with people with the same problem, you are simply adding voices to your call for justice. Anwar Ibrahim has no problem with the justice system before, not until he was kicked out by Tun.
Funny la some of you, still rooting for his sorry ass. Get the story straight guys. Do this for ourselves, not for the old fart.
We've got a long way to go until we can march down Jalan TAR without getting hosed down to the undies. We need to get civilized first. We still have that third world mentality, honestly.I mean, just look at our public toilets.
I hate writing entries like this. Because it's a waste of time. Because I won't gain anything from it. Because I'm already so fucking civilized. Because I said so.

Saiful dah tinggi?

Happy 14th Birthday Aful!!!!!!
Happy 14th birthday, Saiful Deen. As part of the Deen mamak clan, you are officially a Deen! Don't afraid to take risk and make mistakes because you'll learn from them. Why, the most precious god-given treasure are mistakes because they are Life reminders.
Pray and be a good muslim. Do not pray because it is habitual but to become a better person after each prayer. Pray not because other people force you to but because you are thankful to Allah Almighty.
As your bigger brother, I have to admit I am not perfect and I have my own demons. We all have our demons and the only way to deal with them is by confronting them. You have decades ahead and use each and every minute of your spare time gaining life knowledge. When you get older and taller (hopefully lah) you will realize that relationships is all about give and take. Nobody is always correct. We all have our own flaws and the only way to tolerate these flaws is to simply forgive and forget.
Strive in your studies for no other reason than to serve Allah SWT. Be successful for no other reason than to serve the Ummah. You will be truly happy if you strife for these two rules.
I love you more than I love my cat Tigger and Shasha, more than Nasi Kandar and Mutton Curry.
Happy birthday!
Live like you'll die tomorrow.
Seek knowledge like you'll live forever
Here's Jonas Brothers. Alah... band yang nak tiru Busted tuh.. Yes yes.. Joseph Jonas looks a bit like me.. heheh...

Rock On

I'm so busy designing calendars, cards, etc etc that I find reading more therapeutic than blogging. I'm currently reading Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts. It's a real story of an australian fugitive who hopped from one country to another including India. My next novel will be Such a Long Journey by Rohnton Minstry.

Indian writers or writers who'd basked themselves into the intricate Indian culture usually writes explicitly and beautifully. My first Indian novel, The God of Small Things defined beauty. My second Indian novel, The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai, daughter of Anita Desai defined Loss. Unlike american or britsh writers, Indian writers define the intricate nature of a story. They Define.

Coool Gileer.

Since my days are becoming even more hectic than university life, I'm having trouble sleeping at night and out a whim, I'd found out that rock songs are my lullaby. My personal favourite is INXS with the new addition of JD Fortune and Jared Leto's 30 Second to Mars. I guess rock songs are my anxiety pills. Haha.

Are these songs UnIslamic? Hahah. I don't think so. Most rock songs are not about sex and drugs but more on personal reflection and undealt emotions. Say what you want, but Nasyids are lame. I'm not conditioned to think this but today's nasyid is a sample of musical complacency. Period.



Maybe they should have applied their affliation to the condition of the roads after they rallied.

It's good that Malaysians are beginning to speak out regarding flaws of the current administration. But should they really hit the road?

It's not our culture.

Or is it? Was it?

It doesn't matter though, demonstrations and rallies are great ways for people to express their dissatisfaction but sadly, the BERSIH rally was in my opinion, useless.

It's embarassing really, to plea for the King's help, only to be lashed back by the King himself. Now where to go lah?


Thinking back, it wasn't so useless, they had free mineral water, got a free public shower service from the FRU and worked out a hell of a sweat. They'd all came back home cleaner and a tad healthier.

AND free t-shirt.

Yippeeee, sign me up next time. It'll be our rendition of a Malaysian Mardi Gras.

Perjuangan Yang Belum Selesai

tidak ada yang lebih menyayat
dari melihat bangsaku dijajah
Tidak ada yang lebih menyedihkan
dari membiarkan bangsaku dihina

Air mata tiada ertinya
sejarah silam tiada maknanya
sekiranya bangsa tercinta terpinggir
dipersenda dan dilupakan

Bukan kecil langkah wira bangsa
para pejuang kemerdekaan
bagi menegakkan kemulian
dan darjat bangsa
Selangkah bererti mara
mengharung sejuta dugaan

Biarkan bertatih
asalkan langkah itu yakin dan cermat
bagi memastikan negara merdeka
dan bangsa terpelihara
Air mata sengsara
mengiringi setiap langkah bapa-bapa kita

Tugas kita bukan kecil
kerana mengisi kemerdekaan
lebih sukar dari
bermandi keringat dan darah menuntutnya

Lagi pula apalah ertinya kemerdekaan
kalau bangsaku asyik mengia dan menidakkan,
mengangguk dan membenarkan,
kerana sekalipun banggakan negara
kerana makmur dan mewahnya,
bangsaku masih melata
dan meminta-minta di negara sendiri

Bukan kecil tugas kita
meneruskan perjuangan kemerdekaan kita
kerana rupanya selain kemerdekaan,
mengisi kemerdekaan itu jauh lebih sengsara

Bangsaku bukan kecil hati dan jiwanya
bukankah sejak zaman berzaman
mereka menjadi pelaut, pengembara
malah penakluk terkemuka?
Bukankah mereka sudah mengembangkan sayap,
menjadi pedagang dan peniaga
selain menjadi ulama dan ilmuwan terbilang?

Bukankah bangsaku pernah mengharung
samudera menjajah dunia yang tak dikenal
Bukankah mereka pernah menjadi wira serantau
yang tidak mengenal erti takut dan kematian?

Di manakah silapnya hingga bangsaku
berasa begitu kecil dan rendah diri?
Apakah angkara penjajahan?
Lalu bangsaku mulai

melupakan kegemilangan silam
dan sejarah gemilang membina empayar?

Tugas kita belum selesai rupanya
bagi memartabatkan dan memuliakan bangsa
kerana hanya bangsa yang berjaya
akan sentiasa dihormati

Rupanya masih jauh dan berliku jalan kita
bukan sekadar memerdeka dan mengisinya
tetapi mengangkat darjat dan kemulian
buat selama-lamanya

Hari ini, jalan ini pasti berliku
kerana masa depan belum tentu menjanjikan
bagi mereka yang lemah dan mudah kecewa

Perjuangan kita belum selesai
kerana hanya yang cekal dan tabah
dapat membina mercu tanda
bangsanya yang berjaya

Dr. Mahathir Mohamad
-4th of May 1996

Holy days

Aaaah... I just love holidays.. Don't we all?

A perfect holiday is when the duration is about two weeks. One week is too short for comfort. Three weeks or more will get me itching for work. Two weeks = just nice.

A perfect holiday would also mean me going around Malaysia -ranger- style. Heheh. I love being a nomad in Malaysia. Taking buses, trains, motorcycle hikes or just walk around aimlessly. Not all who wanders are lost. Being Malaysians, we often take for granted of our own historical and natural splendours. Wandering around town or kampung alone will get you rediscover the distinctive beauty of God's creation. The bustling town, the asap hitam bus, the golden Buddha statue, the air terjun, the nyonya, the trishaw mamak and oh yes, the FOOD.

A perfect holiday is when I carry around my camera, a sketchbook, a drawing pen and a writing pen.

A perfect holiday is when I officially OFF my handphone, a liberating feat I tell you.

A perfect holiday would have me scheming to make money.

A perfect holiday starts today.

Random Stuff

It has been a while since I posted pictures in my blog. So here are four random photos I took last year. There is something familiar with all four photo, something. I just can't point out the similarity, but I'm sure it's there.
Char Keow Teow
Balai Negeri
Best Perut Masak Lemak in the World
The King of Lame Mini Cars

Marmalade? Strawberry? I prefer Traffic Jam...

I heard there were some kind of march went on today. There were policemen everywhere. And by everywhere I do mean Everywhere. There were a pair at the MRR2 exit, another pair at a LRT station, a whole unit at KLCC and dozens more on the road, which sparks a question; how can there be an enormous amount of police force sprouting from all corners of KL within a day?
Amazing I tell you.
It is as if they were brought here from all over Malaysia, just to regulate the BERSIH march. My commute to KLCC today was different than usual. There were more Kelantanese, more people with kopiahs and oh yes I'm saying it; more kampung people. By personal definition of kampung people, I mean no harm when I categorize old (35-50) malay folks with worn out tees, slacks and selipar jepun. And when I refer to the term kampung people, I really mean poor KL folks.
Because there ain't no Kampung 'ere in KL (except Kampung Bharu lah), so to speak.
The march, like any other rally including international ones like OIC and the likes only mean two things to most KL-ites: road closures and raids.
I know I am being an ass-wipe sceptic when I ask; do these people marching really know why exactly they're doing so? Were they paid to march? Were there an agreement stating an advance or even a chance to get contracts or tenders if they march? What exactly is the source of momentum to these sort of march? Is it 'I am unhappy that my family is poor and the government is responsible for my misfortune'?
Funny. If that is so, if the government is so unjust, shouldn't there be heaps of Indians and Chinese marching down the alleys at Brickfields or Bukit Bintang?
What exactly is the problem here; The government or them? Or both?
Here, here.
I am no fan of UMNO. Nor am I of Keadilan and the likes. I'm just saying... to change the nation, we have to first change ourselves.

A Storm is Coming

"I am prepared to fight and die for my cause,"

"I, as a natural selector, will eliminate all who I see unfit, disgraces of human race and failures of natural selection."

Those were the words of a Finnish teenager who'd killed 7 children and a teacher. He posted the intended massacre on Youtube hours before the actual massacre.

Speaking of which, there is a storm coming in the middle east once again. US had already began to rally its troops to Iran and wage another oil-driven war. Iran, unlike Iraq has powerful allies.

Backed by Russians and maybe China, it is able to defend itseld, and if not, inflict a little damage to the US.

The war will probably start next year, and no Presidential Candidates can rule out the war, because it was pre-determined by big-wigs who rules the American Economy.
Another war is coming. We will blah blah about it. Blah blah on the news. Blah blah on newspapers. Blah blah to the eventual deaths of millions.

What are we going to do Pak Lah? Send Iranian troops veggies?

The Crush II

You know the crush I had a few years back? (Read my last last year entry la)
I think I may have a crush on him again. I hate it too, it's not right but the more I resist feeling anything, the more I envelop myself with unrealistic ideas.
I am just too porcelain to feel anything right now. There are so many things that remains quizzical to me, so many complicated emotions. Betrayal, ignorance, indifference, anger, revenge, etc. Those emotions are distinctive but when they fused, now that's a different story altogether.
Either way, I cannot but help but to feel helpless for those who are entraped by their own delusion of their preferred Life Story. I am antipathic to those who are enraged by their own doings. I am sceptical to those who proudly proclaim themselves sceptics. I am becoming more confused with my emotional reactions to others. When I turn to God, He'll do the usual and ask me to seek the answer myself. Yes, God do not give answers. He provides them. We have to look for them ourselves. Get that straight, you so called 'Fundamentalists'!
Haikal Haikal, why are you doing this to me? More importantly, why am I doing this to myself? I just can't help feeling the way I do. But yet again, physical actions is triumphant over sinful mental imaging. Ngahahah.
Patient, you have to be. Answers, you have to look. Sleep, you have to go.
Thank you Yoda.
Welcome, you are.

My Self Potrait

I was browsing the internet, doing my impulsive research on Theo Van Gough when I saw a self-potrait painting by his famous grand-daddy, Vincent Van Gough. Theo was killed (no,slaughtered) by a fanatic 'Islamist' by the way.

His potrait of himself is so decadently honest. If this is how he expressed his vainity, with his smug but curious expression jotted out by thousands of layers of oil strokes, it made me wonder: why the hell did he worked so hard to paint himself but did it with full-brand honesty. Why didn't he paint like other artists of his generation, whom had exeggerated their features and basked in baloney angles and shading.

Simply because he grew from inside out. More importantly, he grew. He grew smarter and more expressive when he discovered the golden reality of truth. Truth about himself. Truth about his personal canvas, where he painted himself silly until he was able to inspire others. Even though his paintings costs millions now, he never sold a painting in his lifetime.

Frida Kahlo painted her misery, she painted her pain, she painted her anguish, she painted her monobrow!

She learned that beauty lies in truth and how we make the best of it, whether it inflicts pain or joy. The important thing being, we learned from it.

Andy Warhol was critisized for being a put-on artist, a hoax but what the critics didn't realized is what hoax to them is a symbol of reality to many. The infamous designer of Campbell's Soup and Coca Cola proved the purity of his art when his 'work' reached everyone, the poor and rich, the beautiful and ugly. That is how he potrayed truth, by implying comical relief that were reached by many, making it closely relative. That is how he 'made' his designs beautiful.

And we see ourselves today. Many of us are entrapped by our delusion of beauty, delusions imposed by the plaster-friendly media; newspapers, magazines, you name it. Truth to us is embarassingly private. It is a lingering flea that has to be kept hidden in creaking crevices. We are so fascinated by our delusions that we'd simply stopped growing. A simple truth to this is our friendster profiles, yes yes, you and me (I am of no exception). Many of us learned to edit pictures to edit ourselves, to appear flawless and beautiful to standards pre-determined by 'them'. If we don't edit them, we pose in a certain angle that hides our facial feature flaws.

How does this imply our perception on beauty, growth, age and truth?

If we're so ashamed of our faces, God knows how we're ashamed of our body, family, living conditions, etc. The many facades that shaped our mentality, or so we think.

The cool thing about our brain is, really, that it is not conditioned by surrounding factors, contrary to many of your philosophical mumbo-jumbo assumptions. It is there and it is square. And it is up to us to shape it from within, for it to fully embrace its beauty. Only then will the beauty leak from our thoughts to our actions, and from there on, to others.

My take on things, as usual.


I'd just finish reading Battle Royale manga. It's about a government program that randomly select a class to be deserted on an island to kill each other until 1 student reigns victory over the others' (corpse). All students' necks are braced with explosives that will go Boom if they remain in the same area for some time and each student received a bag filled with basic necessities and a weapon, ranging from cyanide to Sub-Machine Guns.

Not for the faint-hearted.

I hate exams!

Don't we all?

(I don't blog responsibly, fyi)

I've no idea why, but I'll get perplexedly contrary with my noted priorities. Macam for example when I was focused to perah my brains for tomorrow's exam, a ridiculously large portion of myself shouted "Jom tengok movie jom, kalau bukan sekarang bila lagi?" The rational part of me whimpered "Esok boleh tengok ... lepas exam.."

It's not about not setting my priorities straight, its experimenting with incoming danger, to cling in between those line, to feel the rush of guilt, to be in danger in a not very dangerous situation. I don't get it myself, but this guy right here, the guy who's typing this is not sorted enough to discipline himself to do what he hates to do. Selfish bloke, this guy.

I'm still thinking of ideas for my next 3 minute film, My Poetic End. I want to make it funny, in a dark comical setting. I want it to be as UnPoetic as possible.

Despite getting a lot of Duit Raya money, I am currently broke. Well, car ownership just


Despite getting a lot of Duit Raya money, I am currently broke. I blame it on my car. It is old and weary and some parts of the car broke down unexpectedly. I had to unexpectedly lay on a few hundred ringgit to fix the unexpected faulty parts.
My daily spending is not more than RM5, which I used carefully with thorough consideration on my health. Like for breakfast, I'll be eating hard boiled eggs for a week. It's only 25 cents each and a meal will only cost me 50 cents. Its full of protein, provides sufficient calories for the whole morning, and it's oil free. My lunch is oats with powdered milk and sugar to give me consistent energy throughout the day and dinner is simply chicken soup which costs 2 ringgit. Blimey, who would've thought being broke does wonders to binge eating.
Really, I'm not complaining.
This is one of those time when I've no choice but to be optimistic. To see the glass of 'tak jadi, terlebih cair' half boiled eggs half full. Yeah.

Dream a Dream

I had the strangest dream last night and the oddity lies within the the lifetimes I'd travelled through. Three lives. One young boy whose father died in a car accident, a poet who'd contemplated suicide most of his life and a middle-aged wife of a mayor who has to put up with her husband's promiscuity. And all of these lives are related.
It's like the movie The Hours, plus-minus the lesbian and depression bit.
The dream reached out to me vividly, unlike my other vague dreams. The plots are unforgettable and the background, is as real as life. So very real and vivid, to the slightest pearl of morning dew on a dying leaf.
I AM deprived of fiction.
Today is the last day of Portfolio, and unlike my other porfolios, this one is low-key. It's not Malaslah but I'll Lie Even More If I Touch Up. Aaaahhh... Serenity of complacency. Plus, the -void- acted up last night during the Kulliyah's Raya Celebration. You knowlah, the -void-. The empty feeling that conjures me to do random things on my own. Last night I strolled along the Pasar Malam at 10 something, when all the stalls are stocked into vans, leaving trails of melted ice. It's one of those moment, you know; the dark unknown alley up a street.
The -void- is a time for self-immensing, to get soaked in the muddy end of a beautiful reflective lake. To be in the moment. To be the moment. I'd already figured out the pattern of the -void- moodswings. It happens only when I am surrounded by people who gathered for the sake of pure vanity. It'll suck the real in reality in me, leaving me with the -void-.
Today will be a full day, after a night of smelling stolen shoes and dream that defies time-travel, today must be a wholesome day. I just have that feeling. That feeling that nothing will go wrong today. The naive deceptive thought that will snare its fangs later in the evening and it'll go SUCKERRRRR! But for time being, the thought of today to be a full day is seemingly imminent. Seemingly. Let's enjoy the moment, shall we?


When I heard the extremely shocking revelation on radio, I was flabbergasted. How couldn't I figured it out myself. I should've known.

Dumbledore's gay.

A fictional outcome that beats (in rating) the killing of 135 civilians in Pakistan. People get killed everyday and I could never empathize enough, because it is unrelatable for the time being. But Big Tall Albus's history of being in love with a rival; that's News.

Even though it is understandable that Rowling is mixing more flavours in her fictional cereal for the sake of global understanding of acceptance, her revelation is fictionally logical. When good friends with goals to succeed one another in the spirit of competition, emotions will run wild thus creating an inhabitable condition for love. Love. It's all around us, whether you're too thick to accept it or not.

But being in love with a man does not validate Albus of being gay. I mean, he only loves one person, and that person happens to be a man. I just don't see the hiccup here. If he was gay, he would have other homosexual relationships with other wizards of his class. Human beings are too unique to be categorized as single entity that reach a certain understanding. And we're talking fiction here! Rowling should've only said that Albus was in love with another man. Now THAT would reach a wider parameter of acceptance.

I was in love with many people throughout my life. I love my umi, bapak, my three siblings, my auts, uncles and cousins. And later, I'd learned to love my stepfather and his family. When I was in school, I loved three girlfriends and when I got into matriculation, I loved a studiomate who happens to be a guy. My recent love is for my cat and girlfriend and all the people I mentioned. Because love is an eternal bond, like our love to God. The only thing that distant the perception of love is situational relatability. If people can get pass that, I think anyone would've admitted their numerous bumping on the four lettered syllable.

To this very day, I can't forget how Bibiana cried when I gave her her birthday cake or how Stephanie shrieked under her breath when she found out she was awarded best speaker. How Haikal never reply important messages and how Shasha, my cat never get tired of chasing my legs around my room.

Love is all around us man.

L is for the way you look at me
O is for the only one I see
V is very, very extraordinary
E is even more than anyone that you adore

Can love is all that I can give to you
Love is more than just a game for two
Two in love can make it
Take my heart but please don't break it
Love was made for me and you

L is for the way you look at me
O is for the only one I see
V is very, very extraordinary
E is even more than anyone that you adore

Can love is all that I can give to you
Love, love, love is more than just a game for two
Two in love can make itTake my heart but please don't break it
'Cause love was made for me and youI said love was made for me and you

You know that love was made for me and you


The part time model, Dr Sheikh had just returned to planet earth. Yes yes yes, he is a space visitor. He visits the big bad void, did his experiments which was probably done decades ago by other scientists, ate his rendang and returned home. Patriotic or not, I don't see the point of getting excited of the whole thing, I really don't. It's a waste of money. It's a waste of TV time. Space supremacy my ass. And I guess he will be awarded with Datukship and be considered a national hero. All is well. A journey of a trillion miles starts with a single weapon buying agreement with Russia. Oh yes, did I mention I shed a tear when the space rocket took off? I did.
I am planning to buy a camera, a video camera to shoot my short film and stuff. Priority; I'm going to Jordan with studiomates so we need a camera lah. To buy a camera, I need money. A pretty large sum of money. My financial flow is pretty much restricted so..... go figure lah.
Just in case some of you are worried that I'll get depressed over the Raya Tear Marathon, I'm confident to confirm that this heart is as hard as cement. My ego grew harder with it. I've been depressed all my life so it's not hard to realize that the cause of my personal dilemma is myself. I am dealing with myself right now and discovering means to relinquish -this- void.
"Why do I think so much?"

nature: a comic reminder

I produced this simple animation for 3 hours. So don't expect so much la...

Taman Melati Fire Station: Perspectives

I just feel the urge yo explain this design. But then again, this blog is not entirely arch-based. So, long story short:
songket pattern-local reference of heroism-something I've to come out with to impress lame-ass design-outdated lecturers.
red ribbon-corporate colour-wow,it flows-lofting instead of standing-versatility
No its not Zaha Hadid's or Karim Rashid's. It's Afiq Deen's.

Bjork's All is Full of Love

I'm all for Lesbian Robots!

Selamat Hari Raya

Selamat Hari Raya Maaf Zahir Batin.

I am one of those people who could not express joy and happiness in full length. Because Joy and Happiness are distant cousins who visits once in a while.
I'm just happy that I am, you know, happy. And everyone else too. Personal conflicts and communication breakdowns will be well dealt by the future Afiq. The present Afiq wants to eat excessive amount of Lemang and Serunding. The present Afiq wants to appreciate the melodrama of Raya. The present Afiq wants to make merry. Talking of which, there is another football joke I've been telling people recently.
God organized a conference with all national football managers to discuss the future of the world's favourite game. The Japan football manager, who'd waited impatiently to ask God something suddenly stood up and asked "When will the Japanese Team win the World Cup?
God answered "50 more years!"

Amidst the crowd, a small man burried his way to the front, violently shoving himself. He hopped around to get God's attention and asked loudly. "I am the Malaysian Football Manager! When will we win the World Cup!"

God cried.
Raya is the day for forgiveness, of forgiving. Raya is a celebration. Selamat Hari Raya Everyone, Maaf Zahir Batin.

Today was an emotional roller coaster. Reading Yassin by my grandfather
Gosh! My last post was so ridiculously emotional.


I spent RM25o for Raya shopping and the rest will be invested in my upcoming project. Nope, its not my studio project.

I am nobody. Nobody's perfect. Therefore I am perfect?.

I've been encaved in my room for a week and a half and honestly, I am deprived of companionship. I'll usually get into a state of desolation or despondency or both in which during these emotional hardship, I wish not to be bothered by anyone about anything on everything. Alas, presentation's over! A long deep slumber awaits!

Over the recent months, I've been engulfed by a blue blood guilt, a kind of guilt that could only snowballed into something larger. It did, and I'm dreading the day it'll splat me head on to the floor, choking me for a bloody confession.

It was my fault for being.... too happy and excited to be responding to other peoples reactions. I simply shut it off. Because it was one of my happiest moment in my life (setakat ni la) and I refused to comprehend the layers upon layers of old grudge.

I shut it all off.

Because I was too happy.

Because I was too excited.

Am I to blame? Yes. Definitely yes.

It is true. I am somewhat a Penakut. It is a contradictary self-image I possesed since I-don't-know-when. Bipolarity would be one of the reasons for it. Many would never believe such a thing is possible, claiming that it is a pathetic self-justification. They think is put-on for to make merry with flaws and weaknesses. I, in the other hand would not have known myself NOT being bipolar. To me, being otherwise is a put-on. It's not just me thinking that, it's me feeling that and it's me acting just that.

I can be smarter by the day, everybody progresses from day to day with their intelligence but what is attainable in a book would never even hint a possibility in a decade when it comes to the wisdom department. We can all be smart like cats and dogs and everything in between, but wisdom is a rare pearl. Wisdom is a state of enlightenment where actions are purely based on a responsive sense of pattern and possibility. It is somewhat foreknowledge that envisage the pattern of chaos rather than dreading the derision of it.

I am far from reaching this level of enlightenment. Very very very far away.

Being analytical, I know for a fact that deeds and misdeeds are cycles. It is derived from the Pay It Forward theory. If you get molested by an adult when you are smaller, you will build up a livid distaste for people whom had acted or acts in a similar personage but at the same time develop to be one. You know what I mean. Intelligence, of course can distinct the disastrous pattern or cycle of an action but only wisdom could deflect it. It is how God punish those who have not attained wisdom from their experiences, by giving them a taste of being the punisher after suffering as a victim for so long, only to experience a graver sense of grief and a reconcilable notion of distress which will require some heavy duty healing.

There are many kind of people in the world; people who embraced life with a full plate with no concern of the present trend whatsoever like Le Corbusier, people who embraced life by the knife like Domino Harvey and people who embraced life with habitual bliss, like most of us.

I'm feeling dissapointed at myself for not mustering enough courage to face the consequences of prolonged silence. Silence. Silence is a very confusing, no, misleading void. It creates illusions, false perceptions and imaginations for the moment of silence do not silent the mind, it makes it speak louder. Louder, louder, angrier, angrier until it shouts nothing but nonsense.

It makes me wonder why sanctuary is easily found in disparity and anger is easily found in plesantary. It still does. When people feed their greed, they do just that, a singular motion of reception that invites a bigger feed. and when disparity is befallen in a sudden, sometimes unsuspected manner, a state of peace is achieved in a sceond. God is great.

I am confused. I am scared. I am very fucked-up. But I need to break the cycle. I need to gain wisdom over the cycle that would've cost me my happiness and the happiness of othe lifes affected by mine. I need to confront them. I am destined to be confronted by dilemmas others would've happily engross and trap themselves with. I am destined to be someone who would bring a hault to the shallow entrapment of eternal self-justification. I am destined to NOT be jaded by these events and make a lesson out of it. Everybody does the same, learning life lessons but very few manage to redeem themselves from it which can easily damage their hearts.

What can be broken without being touched?

Every marathon starts with a breeze, develops into a peak of exhaustion in the middle and ends with a satisfying panting.

Whatever it is, I am pretty sure this is going to take some time; to teach myself the reality of human emotion. To enlighten myself with a holistic approach to things. Only then could I enlighten others to do the same.

But Still, I am still scared. It'll be better if we all get a taste of a biscuit and force it out at the same time to laugh at each others red nauseous faces.

It is my fault, I know but can you make it easier for me to improve myself?

I'm not trying, I know but can you make me want to try?

I'm a good liar, I know but can you make it easier for me to tell the truth?

I'm Afiq, I know but can you love me as I am?