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

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.

"Maka?"

"Dulu malam malam budak2 suka ehem ko."

"HAH? Sila spesifik sikit?" I demanded.

"Bukan kene liwat, budak suka raba ko?"

"Sape?"

"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.

"Owh.."

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!)

Regret

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.

www.reversespeech.com

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....

Hello?

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.

Hmmmm.........

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.

(excited)

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.

Karambunai
Langkawi
Bali
Bali
Bali

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.

Heh.

Heaven.

(I've got to grow up)