We Are One, From the Same Stream of Life

Everything will change tomorrow, if you want change. Everything will become better tomorrow, if you allow it to be better. Everything will be everything you ever wanted, if you want it.

Everyday I see people distinguishing other people for their differences. Differences are attacked and similarities are sheathed. It is in our nature to tribalised ourselves because for centuries, it is how we know how to survive. But what if I tell you that we were wrong and that we are 'one'? Cliche. I know. Got it from Lion King. Go figure.

As you're reading this note from your computer from a first person perspective, be duly noted that everybody else around you looks upon the world the same way. We all see the world as you do so how are we not 'one'. We do not see our own faces from this perspective, we do not see the color of our skin or our lopsided smile. What we see are other people and their skin, and their lopsided smiles.

The people around us are our true reflection, they share our conditions, concerns and virtues. You can argue that the mirror will show your reflection but the backside of the mirror is dark of nothingness. Are you dark of nothingness? You are a source of light and your reflection is also a source of light. But everyday we get dimmer and dimmer so the sun shines brighter and brighter.

Like the sun, our burst of energy is unpredictable. We shine brighter than others at different times. During chrismas, or raya, or diwali or chinese new year, our light shines the brightest but these celebrations are celebrated at different times by different groups of people.

At midnight tonight, we will all shine. We will all shine our brightest light ever, at the same time. We will all become One. Our collective light will resonate through everything and everyone, and through time too. We'll wake up next year with a lingering feeling of being connected by everything and everyone, everytime.

Because we are one, from the same stream of life.

Have a Bright New Year!

From yours truly,

Afiq Deen.

Stream of Life

The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day

runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.

It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth

in numberless blades of grass

and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.

It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth

and of death, in ebb and in flow.

I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life.

And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.

-Rabindranath Tagore


2009 was a good year. Here's recap of the 10 most important things that happened to me throughout 2009.

1. I tasted my first foie gras Yeah I know ducks were choked and stuffed to death but it is worth the(ir) suffering. It tasted orgasmic and I wouldn't mind having more of these unnaturally inflated duck liver in the near future.

2. I gained a record breaking 85kg and worked my way slowly to return back to my comfortable weight of 75kg. (All credit goes to Auntie Tijah)

3. I won several awards thay had my face printed on several newspapers and internet news portal. It is also my second time to be on TV for an achievement. This time around, they spelled my name right. Last year when I was on newspaper during raya they printed Dun instead of Deen.

4. My uncle who is a TV show producer let me loiter around a TV drama set he was working on. I was given a free pass to ask anyone about anything about production of the TV drama. And I did, much to the annoyance of the lighting guy.

5. I sent dozens of internship application to various ad agencies and got only one positive reply. I aced the interview but because of a conflict of interest, I was rejected 2 hours after getting the job. I cried for a good 2 hours.

6. I attended Shout award and got a VVIP seat. I was seated in front of Miss Malaysia and was behind Jac Victor. It was also a bit surreal to be peeing beside Afdlin Shauki.

7. I got my own hi-def hybrid videocam. It is currently my most priced possession.

8. I studied advertising like I was going to sit an exam for it. RM500 worth of books later, I got a gist of advertising without the degree.

9. Yasmin Ahmad died 5 days before my interview with her. It was one of the most devastating thing that happened to me because I wanted to work for her in Leo Burnett so very bad. It took me a week to recover and be able to smile again.

10. I decide to go rogue and open up my own studio. All I need left to start this studio is an iMac and a sleek glass to put my pencils in. I need your help here. If there's anyone you know who are getting married, tell them that I do wedding videos. Or visit http://afiqdeenevent.blogspot.com/
Gimme a mac and I'll rule the world!

I hope 2010 is going to be more meaningful and eventful for me and the people around me. Bring it on man! Bring on 2010!

How To Write a New Year Resolution

10 years ago, I remembered gazing upon fireworks that lasted for an hour. It was the the day when MPKK became DBKK. I remembered writing down my new year resolution.
Even though at times I won't admit it, I am a list freak. You would know what I mean if you like to make lists concerning every aspect of life. This habit was brought by my mother, who was also a list freak. So it is to no surprise that I've written new year resolutions for the past 10 years without fail. That makes me a pro at writing resolutions. Here are the things you should adhere to when writing your new year resolution.
1. Do not start your resolution with anything that has to do with losing weight or diet or bulking up. 'I want to lose 5kg' maybe on top of your mind but it shouldn't be on top of your resolution. It should be at the near bottom because it is not THAT important. Because you're not THAT fat.
2. Make a draft before you write your resolution. Like any important piece of inspiring document, it needs to be retouched and repositioned, like Rosmah's portrait.
3. Although it is good to be specific, you don't want to be too specific especially when your resolution has something to do with a second or third party. You want your father to buy you a brand new Prius? You want your boyfriend to rent Sunway Pyramid's ice rink at night so you and him can axcel like a perfect lovebird? You want your mother to stop nagging? Step out from your couch and switch off your TV. Now open the door. What is that sensation you ask? It's reality.
4. No -er s, okay? Never ever use superlatives like better, thinner, greater, manlier or anything like that because the relativity of those words to your future condition is unquantifiable. For example you want to be thinner, so you'd lost 0.1 kg. Congratulation! Now go back to the sea and join the nearby school of dugongs. Be specific about what you want. I want to be 67 kg. Good. I want to be featured in the Star newspaper. Better. I want to date Afiq Deen. What?
5. KISS. Keep it simple, stupid. One to two sentence should suffice. More than two and your resolution will be a bore, even to the future you.
6. Use images. You want a new house? Print your dream house and paste it on your resolution. Images works more wonders than words because it is more direct and doesn't require much imagination.
7. Do not blog about it. Do not tell you friends. Most of the time, friends are blobs of envy smirking at your achievements behind your back. Their envy generates negative energy and it will indirectly affect you because you're always with them. Keep your resolution to yourself. I know they love you and all, but let's face it, friends are fiends without the r. Arrr.
8. How many you ask? 10 tops. 5 minimum. Imagine the David Letterman Show if they have a top 25 list instead of the usual 10. David would've died 25 years ago.
9. So where to keep it if your friends aren't allowed to read your resolution? Anywhere accessible to you and only you. If you're a type of person who likes to check new words in the dictionary, put it in the dictionary. If you draw in your sketchbook a lot, paste it there. If you're Anwar Ibrahim, tag it to your dildo.
10. Lastly, when? Now.

Booking for 2010 is Now Open

Here's a sample video of a wedding video I shot and produced a few months ago. I'm saving up to buy an iMac (for AfiqDeen Studio) so spread the word that I make quality hi-def event videos.

I don't only make wedding videos. I cater to any personal or community event. So book now!

2nd Generation Malaysian Malay

When I got in UIA, I applied for PTPTN because my parents can't afford to pay for my subsidised uni fees. I'm not alone though. Almost everyone lined up to fill in their particulars for the loan application.
My chinese neighbours, who has the same number of cars and lives the same standard of living as us sent all three of their children to Australia to study. Because I studied in a private school during my highschool years (because I didn't sit for UPSR), almost all my classmates are non-malays. Most of them studied overseas.
I never wanted to settle for less. It was all circumstantial. But when I realised that my parents can't even afford my university fees, I was devastated. "You never planned for me to go to college is it???" is a question I never ask. Strangely enough, malay parents do have a rather rigorous saving habit. They save up for their children's marriage.
Everytime I see a new machine/device/furniture in my parents's homes, a permanently placed air bubble that says "That money could've been well spent on my education" looms.
Now that I'm almost going to graduate, a new problem presents itself: life after uni! Having to pay PTPTN diligently right after graduation, there is very little money to be spent on daily logistics. This is why malays graduates flock flats and apartments and eat at unhygenic food stalls. I talked about this with my dad and he said "Biasalah bang hidup bujang."
"You want me live like you when you were young? If I were you, I would want my son to have a better shot at life. I want to give my son all the advantages in life so he could better utilise his youth in becoming something of a success." is something left unsaid.
I'm frustrated, yes. Dissapointed, slightly.
But how can I be? They raised me up remember? They woke up in the middle of the night to give me milk remember? How can I deny them their material happiness when they reach their golden age when they diligently fed me milk and rice and put me to school and taught me how to pray and be a good person?
This is what all parents who had fail to provide their children education or a shot of a bright future thinks. For them, it's only logic. For me, it's wishful thinking. That logic only worked 30 years ago. Today, I see things in a different light. Everything becomes more relative, untempered with sentiments.
I hope all parents of 2nd Generation Malaysian Malays realise this and make up for their past unwise spendings. If your children graduated already, help them out by financing their home or new businesses, not your second home. If your children is still studying, ask them to stop their PTPTN and pay the fees yourself.
You're not spoiling your kids. You might think so but you're only laying a foundation to enable them to go further in life. But don't give them too much, because then you'll cripple them from having ambitions.
Whatever it is, stop planting flowers on your deathbed and start planting veggies and fruits for your children.

AfiqDeen Studio in the Making

I've decided. Hear hear. I've decided to work independently.

I planned to intern for a big time ad agency last year but after a few months of applying and several close calls, I've decided to work independently. I think I have it in me to take matters in my own hands. This decision is not made out of whim because I reflected several qualities in me that will ensure my success in the near future.

Personally, I have a flare for business. If there is something in need, I will supply it out of my own iniatives. I sold my first product when I was 6. I had to stop making and selling flip-flops made out of manila cardboard when my customers' parents questioned the safety aspect of the flip-flops. I cannot remember not selling anything during my childhood. From raya cards to artistic sketched pornography, nobody in my family knew my favourite past time is business. My parents saw me drawing and making models at home but what happened in school is a mystery to them. They just thought all the chocolates and ice-cream I bought was from my savings.
I stopped doing business in highschool. My self esteem was at its very low and I was too preoccupied with angst to do anything productive. The only thing I sold was a variety of desktop softwares and games that I made. I started seriously selling again when I was 16.

During post-SPM break, I worked at my father's cafe as a waiter. The cafe had the usual mamak food and an array of western food, you know, the usual western menu but like any other malay restaurants, they had no entree or dessert, just the main dish. I wasted no time and used a small space in the kitchen to set up my own stall that sells soup, garlic bread and a dozen selection of ice-creams. It was an instant success. Aida Cafe is the only roadside gerai in Alor Setar that has a 3 course western meal.

In UIA, my projects were endless. Mobile butter & tracing paper stalls, meals in wheels, second hand books and films booth, bowling competitions, personality reading stall, hand made cards, decorative boxes, presentation CD covers, bookmarks, mobile teh tarik and breakfast booth etc. Not to mention all the commisioned design jobs that included book covers, catalogues, posters and other prints. Come to think of it, did I really studied architecture??? Did I study at all???

I don't know where I got this from but my passion for creating and selling comes naturally to me. My only weakness is I never stick to one thing. I just enjoyed creating something from my imagination and selling it if I think it appeals to other people but I didn't have an inclusive skill until two years ago.
Two years ago I made my first video. I showed the video to my friends and they couldn't believe that that was my first video. The following year, I won 4 awards for some of the videos I made and this year I was featured in newspapers and was on TV a few times for my videos. Surely this shows something.

I think I have everthing in perspective now and it is somehow inevitable that I take this path. What I need now is a small capital to buy a descent iMac and several office equipments like a scanner, a webcam to communicate with my future clients and collaborators, a microphone for my videocam and a kick ass whiteboard. Unlike the businesses I conducted for the past 16 years, this one will probably be pivotal in my life. I want to open up a Studio.

I decided to call it AfiqDeen Studio because I am Afiq Deen and it is my studio. AfiqDeen studio will start off its business making corporate, event, wedding and misc. videos as well as designing and producing prints to the masses and also the online community. Most importantly, AfiqDeen Studio has the capability to make effective and affordable video and print ads for average and small businesses. I will not hire workers in the near future but will instead use collaborators to work on commisioned projects. I will also sell short films, novels, comic books and music videos as side projects. Fun!
I unconsciously equipped myself with business know how these past few years with business and management books and although I know that's not enough, I intend to fill my cup with actual business experience. I'll learn faster that way.

It will start off small but trust me, AfiqDeen Studio will be a media giant to be reckoned with. Here's to you my readers, family and friends, with RM65 in my pocket, this will be a voyage like no other.
To AfiqDeen Studio!

Heterolisation of Gay Men

After a whole day of constructing a paper city for an upcoming ad for Sony, I decided to take a break and lepak on the bed. I found a few Cleo magazines (probably my stepmother's) lying around and noticed an interesting article about tips to detect whether or not your boyfriend is gay entitled 'How Good is Your Gaydar?'
In the article, women are warned to not be deceived by smart good looking men who wants to get it on with them, only to realise later that their spouses are gay and got married to them to lead a conventional life approved by society. And to get babies.
Coincidentally, I was chatting with a distant friend about a sticky situation he's in. Let's just call him Najib. Najib had a gay past. After a while, he resolved to put an end to his homosexuality and started to date a girl. Apparently, the girl was already in love with him and all he had to do is to 'declare' their relationship. Relationship bliss commenced until Najib had a crush with his classmate who happens to be a guy. As time passed by, Najib's feelings towards his classmate grew deeper, to a point that they are comfortable cuddling with eachother like lovebirds.
Afiq: So your gf now is a cover up lah?
Najib: Maybe. But i really love her.
Afiq: I love eggs. Can you imagine yourself with her in the future?
Najib: I donno anymore!!!! I don't want to break her feelings... Arghhhh!
The moment I realised that he carried on with the relationship with his girlfriend because he didn't want to hurt her feelings, I knew for a fact that the relationship is one sided. She is in love with him and Najib accepted her love, hoping that this turn of events is meant to aide his heterolisation (there is no such word) process. Sure it's not 'true' love but Najib thought that he will learn to love her as time goes by.
Maybe it's a good thing that Najib decided to become straight and proceed with the one sided relationship. This will not only stop Najib from committing acts of homosexuality, he will also have his lifestyle approved by his family and the society. But what if an old flame resurface and a Brokeback Mountain situation arises?
I've never condone homosexuality but I do however condemn people making decisions for the sake of conventions.
If Najib got into the relationship with his girlfriend because he wants to, I see no foreseeable trouble. But if Najib got in the ride because he wants to test-drive it and see how far it can go with his supply of petrol, I will feel pity for the car and detest the heartless driver for not committing to buy the damn car.
This is worldview by Afiq Deen, who is against homosexuality but according to Cleo, dating gay men is a big No-No so they provided a long list of the things you want to watch out for like condition of current/potential boyfriend's hair, facial hair, socks, shirts, jeans, music and TV shows. Yeah, I know, whatever.
Should women be worried if their boyfriends had a gay past? If they get married to their straightened boyfriends, will his gay flame be under wraps, only to combust in the future?
Okay it's my turn to "Arghhhhh!"

Salam Maal Hijrah

Sometimes, Allah breaks our spirit to save our souls. He breaks our hearts to make it whole. He sends us pain so we can be stronger. He sends failure so we can be humble. He sends us illnesses so we can take care of ourselves.
Sometimes Allah takes everything away from use so we can learn the value of everything He gave us. Allah is great.
-Dina Zaman
And here's a television commercial I made that was aired on TV1 last year. (I know, who watch TV1 nowadays??? orang asli?)

Annoying Malaysian Drivers

1. Makcik. Anyone can be a Makcik. Yes, even you, you 40 something old man! Makcik is a driver who hesitates everytime he/she makes a turn or changes lane. It seems like a simple right turn to Lorong Perda is consequential to the Makcik's upcoming future. "Will I find Mr Right along this lorong or will I fall into a larger than life manhole and die? Think think think..."

2. Tailgater. I was driving a Kancil on the left lane when a lorry appeared from the highway. The traffic light was red so I stopped but the lorry kept nudging forward and got so damn close to the Kancil. I'm on the left lane lah macha... Wadehel! (assuming the lorry driver is indian. I know. So damn racist) When I got closer to the traffic light, the lorry accelerated and braked when it is a few centimeters away from the Kancil. Ba alif ba ya punya tailgater!

3. Akak. Akak has something in common with Makcik. Both of them are big time hesitators but Akak hesitates because he/she is either on the phone or texting 'abg, hunny lupa beli kerret so abg belikn kt kedai ahseng tu ; p' Akak is more dangerous than Makcik because they are easily frightened. Once they realise that a lorry is beside them after they finished sms-ing, they will lose control for a few seconds before regaining their composure. What if you're in the car on the other lane? Tak ke mampos tu?

4. Anak Datuk. Young teenagers in expensive cars who thinks their bapak owns the road. Know your anak Datuk: They are equipped with cool shades, wears un-ironed designer T-shirts and RM1280.99 flip flops. It's hard to detect them because they look like any other scruffy teenagers wearing RM10 pasar malam flip flops. They are the ones that mysteriously appear from behind when you're trying to overtake a vehicle. They will flash their lights and when you rush to the left lane, they will do something that makes you boil like a pot of cooked maggie; they will smirk.

5. Keling. You don't have to be indian to be a Keling, really. Keling is a term used to describe a driver who drives a small car but drive as though they're driving a merc or a lorry. They will tekan minyak their tiara/kancil/kenari/whathaveyou as if they're chasing after a villain (you can see their cars trembling like mad) They are also very dramatic in their car. If you're too slow to give way, they'll glare at you like you'd just slept with their wife. The only thing missing when a Keling is driving are claps of thunder.

6. Lebai. Lebai are drivers who wears an attire that makes them look religious like serban, jubah etc but drive like satans.

7. Chris and RiRi. Fighting couples are not only dangerous drivers, they are also potentially fatal. The root of their problems could be anything, from smell of new perfume to a rolling gossip. If you're driving behind them, you will see RiRi doing all the shouting and Chris will appear stoned with his hands surgically attached to the steering wheel. RiRi will quiet down and say something final in a sarcastic whisper that pierces through Chris's heart like "You're small down under anyway.." or "At least he rocked my boat till it sinks.." At this moment, you might want to find an excuse to park beside the road because an accident will soon commence.

8. Frat Party. You know how it is when a group of undergrads takes on the road. With their amounting egos at stake, even an innocent overtaking can trigger a mentos-coke reaction. It is best to smile at them or better, give them a 'best' gesture. These simple gestures will have a reverse effect on them (if you ignore them, they will think they've won over you.) and they will think of their mothers or their upcoming exams.

9. Ah Long. Aeroback spoiler: check. Dragon sticker: check. Spiky blonde hair: check. Shades with sharp edges: check. An Ah Long is driving. Give the shark some space to roam. Oh look a police car! Sharks becomes anchovies (ikan bilis).

10. Penangites. They are the embodiment of all the mentioned types of drivers. Their kiasu attitude and impatience is strictly a Penang thing. Pay them no heed because they don't give a rat's ass anyway. It's their way of life. You can't force a malay to work harder or a chinese to take a shower in the morning or an indian to stop embellishing. It's how they are, that's all.

Life is Good. Is That Good?

I have my life fig

The Great Outdoors

Aaah, the great outdoors. Nothing can clear your mind better than co-existing with nature and surviving the obvious.
I slept outside covered with a kelambu for a good 5 hours before it rained. When the alarm was sound, I crashed into my brother's tent Atlantis. I named it Atlantis because the tent is just so much cooler with a mythical/galactical name.
At night, as the adults spent their time reminiscing their yesteryears, and the teenagers emo-ed by the sandy beach, I lied down on the sand and gazed upon hundreds of stars, and that annoying satelite and ooooh look, a plane! I played Enigma songs on my iPod and imagined the stars to move according to the rythm's whims. Aaaah, bliss... oh look, another plane!
Tanjung Bungah is not exactly an ideal place to camp but because there were kids, we had to compromise. The fact that our apartment is just a minute away is also a supporting factor of this concensus. It's not exactly camping but it felt pretty much like the real thing. Better this than the last time I camped with UIA folks. Praying 8 to 11 with additional tazkirah in the middle of the jungle is NOT camping. Baik duduk asrama!
True camping aside, one thing is evident after two night of sleeping by the beach: I have a renewed appreciation for orthopedic specialist approved mattresses and pillows.

Anak Ikan

Anak ikan is term used by malaysian gay men to describe teenage boys who are in their pubescent period. They can be from 12 to 18 years of age, as long as they retain their boyish features and charms.

I first stumbled on the word anak ikan when a gay friend told me that his friend has an endless supply of boytoys in his rather large and extravagant abode. "Anak ikan, dia ramai betul anak ikan. Mentang-mentanglah mak bapak dia kaya raya, selamba gajah je dia bela."

"Anak ikan? Apasal panggil dorang anak ikan?"

"Kalau you letak tangan you dalam aquarium mesti ikan-ikan follow kan? Kalau you ade roti lagilah.. Lebih kurang macam tu lah."

I asked him in detail how his metaphore applies in real life and as soon as he finished, I was taken aback. His explaination was quite harmless, that anak ikan are cute growing teens who hangs out with older men but the unsaid extended to a whole new level of grotesque.

Because teenage boys are extremely curious, gay men who courted them took advantage of this by giving them options to explore their sexuality.

For example, Zaki is a 15 year old highschool student who lives in a flat. He has a striking face, a body of a lingering youth and popeye-ish sexual drive. We were all Zaki at some point so you should what I mean. But Zaki comes from a relatively poor family who can't afford to provide Zaki what they consider an extravagant lifestyle. So this is where Wenkty comes into the story. Wenkty is an open gay man who is priveledged enough to buy a Fendi once a week.

In a day-to-day swirl of circumstances, Wenkty met Zaki. Wenkty introduced Zaki to his world, where the Sky Bar is as easily accessible as McDonald's and a Nike shoe is bought with small change. There is no said contract. Zaki wants a piece of Wenkty lifestyle, Wenkty wants a pubescent companion that he can take care of. It's a done deal.

No harm there right? When you put a mature gay man and a curious teenager in a same hotel room, what do you think would happen?
A rather distant friend disclosed to me that he and his anak ikan's night activities are acts of innocent homoeroticism. Solah, a successful sales executives who happens to be gay told me that what he enjoyed most of having anak ikan around is that that they are easily persuaded.
"Once, I told him that nudism is a normal thing in my household and he should respect that." Solah said enthusiastically, as if telling a first part of a joke. "I had him stark naked for one whole week in my house. Seronok! Especially when I flirted with him, I like them anak ikan steamed!" He guffowed, pouncing on the kedai mamak's signature metallic table. I was disgusted but laughed anyway, out of courtesy.
"What else do you do with your anak ikan?"

"Everything else I can of course. I gave him what he wants but God knows I'm the one who had all the fun!"
"I gave them handjobs, blowjobs,.."
"And sex?"
"Oh no, not sex! Never sex. They are anak ikan for goodness sake, not my hubby. I just, you know, have fun with them. Are you planning to make a movie about anak ikan now Afiq? Nah try this blog." Solah keyed in something in his blackberry and passed it to me.
The blog was about a transexual who blogged about her sexual escapades and in her latest entry, she posted pictures of her anak ikan group masturbating to straight porn.
"Ni extra co-curricular activitieslah ni! Hahaha!" Solah let out his infamous laugh once again.
In some coutries, you can get arrested and put in jail for commiting ANY sexual act with minors, with or without the minor's consent. And I'm surprised, surprised at how people seems to be okay with this. Just this morning I read a status from one of my facebook friends:

What if you're the parents of this anak ikan? What would you do to people who'd taken advantage of your pubescent child's youth? What if you were the anak ikan in question in retrospect? When you've gotten married with children, how would you react to memories of you being an anak ikan?

Remember, we were all Zaki once.

Anak Ikan

Usus Goreng Kentucky

I sawed bones, played with innards and inflated intestines with water. Good fun. I felt a tad nostalgic because as a child, I loved playing with internal organs of slaughtered cows. It took about 10 minutes for me to saw off a relatively large bone whereas a shark could have easily bit it to bits in less than a second.
Tok was about to bury a set of intestines until I enquired "Boleh makan tak usus ni?"
Tok looked gravely at me, as if I said something taboo. "Boleh.." she replied hesitantly.
I inflated the intestines with water and it looked like something out of a war movie set. I then boiled it with a few pieces of perut. When softened, I mixed in Kentucky frying flour with egg whites before frying it to a crisp. When I sampled a finished product, the archangel Gabriel came down from the heavens and farted in my mouth. It was THAT beautiful! It tasted so good that I thought I should share it other people, which I did, only to receive a rather cold reception.
"Tapi sedap gilerrrr!" I insisted.
Tok, out of courtesy, pinched a finger-bite portion and swallowed it immeadiately. There was agony in her face and disgust in her squinting eyes.
"Sedap cucu tok masak.." she said unconvincingly.
Paksu defied medical explaination when he said he felt something queesy in his stomach just after eating a piece of intestine.
I returned to the kitchen and asked Kak Su. "Kenapa orang tak makan ya?"
"Orang sini memang buang bahagian dalaman. Kalau di Jawa sana, di kampung Kak Su, semuanya dimakan. Cumanya kami tak makan punggungnya."
"Bontot ayam tak makan?" a flashback of the whole family devouring satay tonggek. "Pelik."

Selamat Hari Raya Korban

Sacrifice is the word of the day. Sacrifice.


Prophet Ibrahim almost slayed his son prophet Prophet Ismail because he was instructed by God to do so. Sacrifice.

Mahathir slayed a few racist troublemakers with Ops Lalang to ensure peace in the country. Sacrifice.

Our country let PR win in several states to teach BN a lesson. Sacrifice.

School lessons were taught on tables just before SPM. Sacrifice.

SPM students who lives in hostels had to eat maggie because their canteens are flooded. Sacrifice.

To eat the maggie goreng cooked by my beloved father even when I'm on a strict diet. Sacrifice.
Selamat Hari Raya Korban. I think our cows have it good here. They can lepak-lepak and eat fresh grass. They are a character in a wajib-baca

Alor Setar

I'm off to Alor Setar. Tak sabar tengok banjir! Seen it, heard it but I never actually experience it.


It bothered me a bit that I live most of my life preoccupied with the past and future. My aspirations results nothing but anxiety and my past made me a product of consequences. I think almost everyone is trapped in this mindset prism. I feel connected to so many affiliations that it limits my progress to be the best that I can be. Race, language, religion, family background etc. are made to define who I am as a person.
Some people thinks those affiliations is very important to determine one's self worth. If Barrack Obama defines himself with his religion, race and family background, he wouldn't have become the first black president of the United States.
Who I am is a consequnce of what I am doing not what I did or about to do. This concept is still very new to me so I'm still adjusting.
I have a temper, my merajuk episodes are legendary. But when I understood the -I am who I am Now- concept, I made the best effort to see myself from another vantage point. For the sake of explaining, I see myself from a CCTV camera positioned in the corner of the room. This very thought calmed me down a lot when I get temperamental.
At the risk of sounding preachy, let's do this together. Slowly shed off all our affiliations and be what we want to be.
I want to be on Oprah!
Oh wait, I heard she's retiring.

Afiq Tengah Emo

What does it take for me to get an internship? I just don't get it. I just don't fucking get it.

I'm tired of courting with ad agencies, sending dozens of resumes, sending in expensive portfolios and argh..! Can't you tell? I'm in a very bad mood today.

Everyone wants me to grab whatever is in front of me and run with it but I want more, something that is almost out of my reach. That's why I abandoned architecture and decided to take up advertising. But after months of trying to get in, I found myself in the same spot as I was when I first started. It is as if I was running in circles. I'm so frustrated with myself. I have to achieve more to show them I'm bloody fucking talented! I may not come from a rich family and have powerful connections but I am hardworking, passionate and fuming with eternal rage.

It's just so hard..! I'm only human. Forgive me for showing my weakness for a few minutes. I know I have to work harder, fuck off. I know I have to do more, don't tell me 'What are you waiting for!'
I need a shoulder to cry on that's all. Everyone thinks I'm strong and have a bright future, as if I was given a silver spoon from the get go. I fooled a lot of people, I know. I have a bankrupt mother and a father who retired early from the police force. I'm not priviledged so yes, to a certain extent, I am strong. Don't be fooled with my english. Not all english speaking malays are well off. I am a sad charity case. I live in my aunts' houses, not being able to afford to rent my own. This is a case for many people my age but they settled for less. I want more. But more is fucking hard to get. It's achievable but as I wallow in my misery, it seems like a continent away.

Emo is my word for today. I'm very emo today. With a life so stagnant and unproductive like mine, I can't help it. Let me be.


Knifey the cat was successfully neutered yesterday. I can't help but to be reminded of my own circumcision.
(bites lips)
The sting of the injection, the pain, the pain, the pain. And the kenduri! I can't believe they prepared delicious food for everyone EXCEPT Nael and I. We were only allowed to eat porridge and bland steamed fish. To make matters worse, every kid who came to the kenduri received 3 packs of Mamee Monster EXCEPT for us.
Everytime I meet my relatives, a voice from the sub-conscious tells me "They have seen your penissssss~" I remembered having people lifting the hung cloth that covered my bare lower body to see my penis, acknowledge it and conclude with a curt "Elok." Some even gave me money after seing my newly circumcised penis. Was it even necessary to look? Nael didn't get as much attention though. I was told by an older second cousin that visitors were curious about my privates.
"Depa nak check betoika kalau budak puteh teloq dia puteh jugak"
Really? Do you people really want to know this?
We spent a week playing video games until we got sick of it (which was a very strange new feeling) and reading Mr Q, Doraemon, Kapten Tsubasa and Dragon Ball Z.
I see that kids nowadays don't have to be held captives by their grandmothers anymore. Their circumcised penis are fitted with a plastic case that enables them to carry on with their normal lives.
Umph. Memanglah senang but it comes with a price. No big kenduri, no duit sunat and no special favours!
Padan muka! (dan kote)

Knifey (pronounced Nigh-Fee)the cat was neutered yesterday. Potong. Kniefey is now officially an eunuch. Talking about potong, oh man, I can't help but to be reminded of the day I was circumsised.

(bites lips)

I was 8. Nael was 10. Our fathers made an appointment with a local clinic during the school holidays. For one of the most important phase of our lives, we were the least informed about the whole process. It was as if everyone was preparing a ceremony for the sake of it.

All the married women camped at the back of the house and automatically reprised their roles. They chopped onions, marinated chunks of lamb, mixed acar and blendered spices that makes up for a delicious feast tomorrow. I watched on as they finish their cooking and kept all the food in large pots to be refridgerated. If I knew then that I wasn't able to eat any of the food prepared the next day, I would've sneaked into the kitchen and rummage through all the pots like a starved street rat.

We woke up early in the morning for a silly photography session dressed in baju melayu, P Ramlee style sampin and tanjak. We looked like miniature Sultans.


Knifey (pronounced Nigh-Fee)the cat was neutered yesterday. Potong. Kniefey is now officially an eunuch. Talking about potong, oh man, I can't help but to be reminded of the day I was circumsised.

(bites lips)

I was 8. Nael was 10. Our fathers made an appointment with a local clinic during the school holidays. I knew


Yes, I still have high hopes to make films but for the time being, I'm concentrating on making advert videos. Trained as an architect, I'm really good when it comes to translating briefs. I won 4 short video competitions and lost in all the short film competitions I entered. I'm not saying I sucked at making film but I am very inexperienced in this field. I think a certain level of maturity is needed to make good films and I haven't found my 'voice' yet.
Even though I haven't won any awards yet for the two short films I made, 4 Peringkat Ajal is a cult classic in UIA and is available in almost all PCs in UIA colleges. This made all my actors and actresses who worked pro bono local celebrities. Even the late Yasmin Ahmad watched 4 Peringkat Ajal and commented:

I want to be a Creative Director like Yasmin Ahmad. I want to make successful ads and make films as a hobby. Sounds a lot like Yasmin Ahmad right? Haha, I aspire to be as good or better than her in the future.

I felt that it was a sign that she collapsed a week before the day she was going to interview me! I was like "Die lah like this! God doesn't want me to be in advertising!" But then again, everything happens for a reason and I think her passing taught me that I have to pave my own path in order to reach my dreams. What are my dreams you ask? Winning an Oscar is one of them!

I'm currently making 3 advert videos for 3 international competitions. It is my wish to get acknowledged internationally so I'll be able to work in ad agencies in cities like London, New York, Hong Kong or Bangkok. Those places are Meccas of advertising! I'm so excited to start these 3 projects. Anyone who wants to help me with your ideas are welcomed to do so.

“When you reach for the stars you may not quite get one, but you won't come up with a handful of mud either.” -Leo Burnett


If you've been reading this blog long enough, you would know that my childhood is not exactly normal. It is statistically normal but still considered as a cultural taboo. I still don't understand this. In some cases, divorce is inevitable in a marriage but yet, the aftermath that takes its stride soon after is an unquantifiable mystery.

I'm greatful to have enjoyed the first 10 years of my life with my parents still together. My childhood at this very important stage, was in tact. Unlike my brothers, they have very little recollections of what happened during their childhood. It was as if their first decade was craddled in a formula 1. It happened so fast that they themselves, to this very day, could not comprehend the gravity of their past.

Although granted with a relatively happy childhood, I was denied of its namesake. Everyone thinks that reminiscing about my childhood is a painful ordeal, so to save me from any more pain, my past is treated like an empty void. I hated being a subject of pity so I pretended that the divorce didn't affect me at all. I used to put up pictures of my family on the wall everytime we move to a new place (we moved a lot since the divorce) only to be scolded by my mother.

"Kenapa Afiq letak gambar your father and umi dekat dinding."

"Sebab ada Afiq, bapak dan umi lah.."

For her, that picture might have represented broken dreams, unfulfilled destinies and unrealised hopes. But for me it was a picture of my family. Umi became vengeful to a point that anything related to bapak is deemed unholy and taboo. I don't see why my mother can't put aside her anger to let me cling on to my love of my family. My family. I have a family and it is mine. It might not be hers but it's mine so I became increasingly defensive of my past.
By then I began a habit of tracking old pictures and hiding them for safekeeping. I put all the pictures of my childhood in a box and carried it everywhere I go. To school, to an island during vacation and anywhere that required me to pack a bag.

Unlike many children raised by a divorced single parent, I refused to go through life with an unspoken past. How will one carry on walking forward without the knowledge of the tested paths? With my childhood safely guarded in a plastic case cellotaped in a shoebox, nothing can ever overwrite my childhood. No tahfiz, no drunk chinaman, no addicted gambler, no, nothing can ever tarnish the fact that I was happy as a child.
But in truth, I was not always happy.
No, I was mostly miserable as a child. I had a normal but traumatising childhood. I won't go to further details but my childhood was shrouded with suicide attempts, shouting, fighting and a lot of unforgetable consequences of conflicts. Sometimes I think my brothers are more fortunate for not being able to remember their childhood because I remembered every minute of it. Every single burst of emotions, every scar on my body, everytime I forced myself to shut my ears and eyes is always, always a thought away.
I live with the pain of hiding my pain everyday. I realised today why people around me will turn a blind curb when talking about my past. It is painful to reminisce. It is better to keep the subject of my childhood a forced secret. I myself never attempted to properly bind all the old photos in an album. Instead, the photographs are stacked, only revealing a smiling facade; an indication of happiness inconceivable to me.
I know this seems unfair but the only way for this pain turn to a thing of the past is to have both my parents reconcile their differences and stop fighting. I want to sit with them in the same room and ask them why they acted the way they did after the divorce. Why couldn't they settle their difference for my sake? Why?
Why can't they just let me be happy?

The End of World

I realised how fragile we are as human beings after watching 2012.
I define myself by the people I acquainted myself with, which can be less than a thousand people. And yet when I stroll along a shopping complex, I always feel that I'm unique and my uniqueness is worth noting. Of course I don't dress weird or act a certain way to get attention, but a healthy dose of self esteem dictates that I feel a little bit special about myself. This is a delusion that makes me, or you, or anyone else feel a tinge of exclusion. To be comfortably isolated makes up for the reality of my anonymity.
But when disaster strikes, who am I to the eyes of others? I am just an obstacle, another mouth to feed, another body to sustain.
When disaster strikes, will I have enough means to escape and live to see tomorrow? If there is a special selection of people to survive earth when let's say 2 million people are chosen to board a gigantic arc, (like in the movie 2012) will I qualify to get in?
This is not an emotional response to another disaster movie, 2012 is a reality check for me. How will I fare when the best of minds and hands are rounded up for survival? I'm nothing. I'm no one!
From the minute I left the cinema hall, I felt that for me to survive, I've to be best in whatever I choose to do. I want to be the one of the 2 million chosen ones, that saving my life will do justice to the rest of the dying (or dead) human race.
Okay, maybe I'm being stupid for taking this movie seriously but think about it.... think about it for a moment and make a significant change of lifestyle. If life as we know ends in 2 years, what should you be doing now?


It's the last Friday the 13th today. Whether or not it's a self-fulfilling prophecy, I'm anticipating a bout of frustration today.
So what better way to lighten up this rather grim day than to over analyse things around me?
P1 Wimax and Streamyx are figthing it all in their advertisments nowadays. P1 is asking you to potong. Streamyx tells you to not trust a beginner with a P probation sticker. Whatever it is, both companies are fighting to get you to use their product which is the internet. One is offering a wireless service and the other sticks to the traditional cables.
I was in Subang Parade a few days ago and I saw a rather weird printed advertisment:

The midget scale carboard advertises suppliments that can make you lose weight and not look like an apple or a pear. Nothing weird there right?

But a stone throw away, there's a fruit stall.

Weird isn't it? Was the motivation of using fruits as representations of fat people a geographical response? Or was it just coincidental?

Whatever it is, it didn't appeal to me. A simple: Ayurfat or AyurSlim? would've been more fruitful.

(forgive me God for I have pun-ned)

What Do You See?

What comes in mind when you see these images?

I don't know about you but whenever I see these images, I see Kelantan.

Let's Talk About Love

Or the lack of it. Let's do that. Let's talk about Afiq's non existent love life. What does that mean anyway? Love life. For me it implies that a couple has had sex thus it becomes intergral in the structure of the couple's relationship. Sex. The insertion of one's phallus into the holy of holies.
What is love without sex? It's meaningless really. Love of God, parents, family and iPod aside, love means nothing without sex when you're in my age. That's all I think about when I'm not thinking of anything else important. I'll dream of it (Xena warrior princess in leopard prints) once in a while and wash my pants in the sink. You see, the longing for sex is so great that I don't buy lovey dovey craps in form of forwarded emails by bored cubicle prisoners.
Have I ever been in love? I thought I was in love but I was deceived. What I felt was simple and unadulterated happiness. It's like saving a kitten and bringing it home with dreams and hopes that kitten will be well taken care of (until your parents comes home and conspire with the maid to bring Sylvester to a faraway Pasar Ikan)
Love is an expression that has varied capacity. Like faith. And like anything quantifiable, the extent of its measure is tangible. It will grow on me, the concept of love.
I'm not expecting the right girl to come along and steal my heart away because I must first have a heart susceptible to love and right now, my heart is only beating to rythm of Tap Tap Revenge2. I'm not ready and I know it. She knows it too, wherever she is.


When asked to describe the colour pink, I will typically answer "The underbelly of a newborn piglet, Legally Blonde, So What?, fat american tourists, Barbie Dolls, Pusat Serenti Malaysia."

But today is a special day. Today is a Pink Day. It's the day to commemorate Breast Cancer survivors, sufferers and everything positive and uplifting that has to do with Breast Cancer.

Radiology Malaysia's new slogan for this year's Breast Cancer Campaign is

I Check, I Act, I Live.
I think it's pretty fitting. It's simple and straight to the point.
Girls, grab a Dove and lather your breasts with Dove's mosturising goodness. Search for any sign of lumps that is not your sad excuse of a mosquito bite breasts. If you find nothing out of the ordinary, you might as well continue lathering them with essential oil, record it with your phone and send it to your nearest MP with a label 'Warga Singapura diraba polis wanita Malaysia. We need to pick a fight with them Merlions so that the water issue will resurface. Let's challenge Lee Kuan Yew's contract with God!

If you find a lump, tell your parents and go get a mammogram scan. Remember, 7% breast cancer patients are aged 30 and below. 2% are men with man boobs/moobs.
Today is the first time I wore pink.

I've always thought pink is a sissy colour. Pink is scientifically proven to weaken men's burst of testosterone. It makes Hulk Hogan hug puppies. But the thing is, we are unaffected by all the side effects of seeing pink if we wear them (unless there are mirrors everywhere). It makes other men mild and weak. Now I know why Donald Trump wears a pink tie!

Be a King, Wear Pink.

Happy Breast Cancer Day everybody.
Do Check, Do Act, Do Live.

A Survey by Any Other Name....

I don't think the flower in the picture are roses but... they sure smelled like roses.
Time for some self-indulgence on personal preference that no one cares about.
My favourite flower have always been the ones that are edible like flower-shaped candy and chocolates.
My favourite food is actually, listen up people, actually... kari kambing.
My favourite drink is 100 plus because I sweat a lot and isotonic liquid replenishes perspiration faster.
My favourite place in the whole wide world is available in all homes, hotels or restaurants. Toilet lah!
My favourite movie is... still Dumbo. I especially like the part when Dumbo's mother cradle Dumbo in her her trunk from inside her cage. Sampai sekarang boleh menitis air mata tangok.
My favourite song is Oklahoma by Billy Gilman. For obvious reasons? (check out the song in Youtube to know what I mean)
My fovourite boybands are DBSK and NeWS! Asia untuk Asia.
My fovourite colour is black because wearing anything with that colour makes me look thinner.
My favourite fruit is manggo.
My favourite brand? Hmmm.. for shoes Nike but when it comes to the clothes I wear, I don't really give a shit.
My favourite car is either the one in Back to the Future or Flubbers.
Bestlah jawab survey ni. Tenang hatiku yang gemuruh ini.


My aunt finds it weird that I'm too embarrassed to be shirtless.
"Are you sure you're not gay?"

"Haish....! Mana ada, Afiq malu je. Orang gay lagi suka tunjuk badan kot."

It's true, I'm not gay. I'm just very very very shy. The only people who have seen me shirtless in a regular basis are doctors and X-ray assistants. Aha, and you dear readers. It's not uncommon for you to see pictures like this posted once in a while:

Even though the are dozens of shirtless pictures of me in my blog, I'm almost never shirtless in real life (except when I'm taking shirtless photos) which is, I agree with you now Auntie, weird.

Anyway, I can't be bothered to take such photos anymore. I'm in the middle of transforming myself. I'm eating healthy and exercising to lose all the fat I acquired during raya. I'm still deciding how my body should look like so I haven't decided on a particular regime yet.

So what do you think?

Should I be:

A. Toned with only 2% body fat.

B. Slightly muscular but with bulging biceps and pecs.

C. Athletic looking (a mixture of toned and muscular body)

D. Buffie (refer to earlier blog entry)

Diet & Exercise

I've to admit, proper diet and exercise is foreign to me. For years, my rapid metabolic rate and active lifestyle made up for all the nonsensical gorging. A sitting of lunch alone consists of 3 plates of mixed food. Dinner... oh well, you get the picture.


I was at Sunway Hotel lobby a month ago when a Korean boy band got out of the elevators and sat around the lobby to wait for their van. I didn't know the band so I just stared at them. They were tall and have very very very nice skin. Flawless! It could've been their make-up but it looked so damn natural.
I scanned the whole lobby and realised that the group of people that I thought were Taiwanese tourists waiting for their bus outside were screaming their heads off. Their eyes flashed deep-seeded desire to have sex with the boyband, reverse cowgirl style. When the band's van arrived, several staffs and bodyguards tactfully made way for the boyband to proceed to their vehicle without getting pulled or grabbed by fans. And then suddenly a young lady that was already inside the lobby ran towards one of the boyband member and threw her hand bag at him. She wasn't finished. She scuffled with the alerted bodyguards and tried to hit him.
I inquired one of the fans later when the korean boyband left. She told me that she was a representative of an anti-fan organisation of that particular boyband. Anti-fans? You must be kidding me!
Doesn't it occur to anyone that if you hate a boyband so much, you should've just ignore them. Boybands don't kill people, they kill songs. They don't melt steel, they melt hearts. Why on earth would anyone join this self-contradictary clubs?
I think they were hardcore fans who felt sidelined when the boyband got more famous and attracted more fans. Maybe they were pioneers of fanblogs, fanvideos and fanforums dedicated to the band and when the boyband reached a broader audience, they felt cheated and betrayed.
They volunteered to dedicate half a decade of their lives to these boybands so if anyone were to be blamed for this pointless fanaticism, it's the volunteers. They should know better. They should've dedicated those years breeding premium beef-to-be and farming hydroponic brusselsprouts.
So anti-fans, listen!
If you hate a certain boyband or singer, just ignore their music. You don't have to protest when your friends listen to their songs. You don't have to explain the ridiculous details of how your anger came to be. You don't have to analyse their songs and bitch about it in your blog. You can just ignore them. Ignore their music and don't buy their CDs.
You want to do damage?
Buy one CD of them, rip it in your windows media player and share those songs in P2P softwares like Limewire and Ares. Or torrent it. While you're at it, pass around your thumbdrive containing their songs to your circle of friends so they won't have to buy their CDs to listen to their songs. And that's all you should do. Anymore and you'll be a certified loser with a large L implanted in your cornea.
Although I had several girlfriends, I've never been in love. It's quite depressing isn't it? To be in existence for 22 years without even being close of being in love. But that's just how things are. I'm not even looking. For a decade, I probably won't be in any kind of romantic relationship with any


Buffies is another word for buff men, men who are excessively beefed. Buffy is a vampire slayer. Duffy is a singer from Wales.

Remember the "You're too fat to be a teacher" incident? I felt sorry for the overweight job applicant but I can't dismiss the fact that I can see how body image is important in any organisation (IT related company and political party excluded).

Let's say I'm a CEO of a creative company that deals with tight deadlines, frequent brainstorming sessions, prima dona writers, naruto-obsessed designers and frigid account keepers. Then a buffie with rippling pecs and Brock Lesnar shoulders enters my office to be interviewed. My first impression would be "He must be dumb." My second impression: "The gym is in the opposite building..."

Teruk kan? Bias kan? Diskrimanasi kan?
Maybe its idiosyncratic of me but I've known a great deal of buff people and most of them are, you know, at a certain expectection, dumb. I won't hire buffies. I'll tell you why:
1. They spend way too much time at the gym. Probably 3-4 hours. I can roast a whole turkey and feed it to a hungry family in 4 hours. I can also finish 4 chapters of the book I'm reading now: Ogilvy in Advertising.

2. They do too much research. On protein, muscle definition, protein, steroids, protein and neon green thongs. I know, euww.

3. Their daily schedule revolves around their protein intake in forms of egg whites, protein shakes and lots of meat.

4. They spend hours looking at themselves in the mirror. Such excessive practice of narcissism breeds vanity and vain people are dumb.

5. They are sexually frustrated. Buffies have small flacid penises. Steroids causes erectile dysfunction. And the fact that there is no workout to increase the size of the penis makes their body to penis ratio unproportionate. Sexually frustrated empoyess do not perform well.

6. Ikea don't have XXL size chairs.

7. "Are you sure you're not looking for the gym?"

So will I hire a buffie? Most probably not. Fast forward 2 decades later and you'll see me in an e-news tablet with a caption above my ever so youthful face (I became a vampire at some point in my life)
"Kamu Terlalu Malek Noor Untuk Menjadi Pengarah Seni."

Afiq's Democracy Challenge

Okay people people, listen!

I'm going to make a 3 minutes video about democracy in Malaysia. This video will be judged and showcased in USA so it's kind a like a big deal to me. Since I'm an aspiring creative director, it will also give me a glint of international exposure.

If you're interested to be in a video directed by an award-winning commercial video director (ehem, ehem) just tell me this:

What does democracy mean to you?

16 participants are needed for this video.

Take part and I will give you the details promptly. Register by sms-ing me at 016-2899681 or on this post comment box or e-mail me at afiqdeen@hotmail.com.
This video is seriously going to be the best commercial video to date. So come and collabo with me...! Weeeee...!

Internship Hunting

CD is short for Creative Director. CDs are the people who hire interns and juniors. I've just finished my book. Book is another term for portfolio. I learned all the lingo from Pick Me: Breaking into advertising and staying there by Nancy Vonk and Janet Kestin. This book may very well save my life!
PIE (referring to blog header) is an acronym for Passion, Ideas and Enthusiasm and not the actual image of a honey crusted blueberry pie with cherry flavoured glazing. The blog header is also the cover of my book. That and a large caption that says "Will Do Internship for FREE"
Tomorrow I'm going to Saatchi & Satchi and Ogilvy and Mather to litter their offices with my book and hopefully get a chance to meet their Creative Directors. I can assure you that the smell seeping out of my sentences is not coming from the imaginative blueberry pie. It's the stench of desperation.


My brother and I were playing badminton without a net. Being the expert jaguh badminton that I am, 12 shuttlecocks laid motionless on the roof. I fetched for the ladder and climbed the roof to collect the shuttlecocks. Shuttle. Cocks. The moment I laid hands on the gutter, my whole body convulsed like mad. I realised that I was being electrocuted and pushed myself away from the gutter with all the strength I managed to muster.
Down went Afiq Deen, ladder and all.
I opened my eyes and realised that my body was numb. The state I was in reminded me of the numb object that looks and feels like my right arm after a whole night of neglecting its bloodflow. Thankfully, my mouth was fully operational. Saiful panicked and poked my lifeless limbs with his racket. Why isn't he running for help? I intended to be courteous but "Oi babi bongok! Pergilah mintak tolong!" came out.
After a minute of recollecting the many times I fell from great heights and survived with minor cuts and bruises, a rush of hot healthy blood filled my limbs. I was relieved. Relieved but still colvusing and shivering. I went to get a glass of water to drink, ignoring the trace of blood that sketched the kitchen tiles. I collapsed there and then and cried. It wasn't an emotional-oh-god-I'm-still-alive-cry. The water I drank felt like a sea of microscopic needles going through my throat and into my stomach. Even as my innards agonised with pain, I made sure that no one caught any glimpse of me crying.
I walked around. I went outside. I told Saiful "Lain kali kalau abang kena electrocuted and jatuh dari bumbung, Aful kena lari panggil orang and.... lepas tu, check kalau abang okay."
I wished he'd just nod and reply with a curt "Faham" but he went all Oprah on me. I sat down listening to his justifications, his tears pouring like rain on a car's windshield. After half an hour, his long-winded justifications evolved into a fit of anger. Owh man...
He ended up merajuk-ing the whole night.
I'm just thankful that I'm alive.

Mazel Tov!

I was driving while listening to BEP's I Gotta Feeling when I realised that Hitz.fm censored the word Mazel Tov.
Is it because it's a hebrew word for congratulation? Is it because it usually used by Jews? Will it make muslims attracted to Judaism and consequently lead to their conversion?
Aren't we being anti-semitic here?
What if a rapper used words like shukron and assalamualaikum in the United States? Will the words be censored? I guess we'll never know because:
1. We're not in the US so we don't listen to their radio.
2. Where got muslim singers in popular top40 countdowns????
I think the cencorship board consist of really old fashioned pegawai-type people who hates jews. Personally, I hate the zionist Israeli government, not Judaism.
Because without Judaism, there wouldn't be Islam.

I Need Your Help Guys!

The thing is, I really need a laptop to replace my 3 year old acer laptop so I joined a Malaysia themed short film competition. Competition is stiff and very good filmmakers submitted their works. I am impressed by half of the entries. But they are seasoned filmmakers who already have good computers and cameras. I need the laptop more than any of them.

So please, please, please help me out by
and like-ing my short film 'Projek Merdeka Adik'.

Register and login to Ruumz so you can like and comment on my short film here

My fate is in your hands. If I do win this laptop, I promise I will make BETTER films and videos for your enjoyment.

Or if you don't want to go through the website registration to support 'Projek Merdeka Adik', you can also vote for my other short film 'Sebelah' here.

What Do You Think?

I'm still looking for ideas for my upcoming documentary. So funnylah, when I say Upcoming Documentary when I don't even a subject to be documented.
I'm thinking to make a documentary about gay muslims in KL but I think it's a bit too bold. I've never come across social documentaries in Malaysia so... but IF I make the documentary, I think I will get more eggs splattered on my car on a regular basis.
What do you think? Should I proceed with Gay EL?

Kena Rasuk

I saw a lady who was supposedly possessed by a jin today. She was in her sister's car and was ready to take off from their home until she suddenly became violent and screeched her heart out. A school girl (probably her niece) rushed back inside and called for an elderly man.
The elderly man talked to the jin and again, she was in a fit. She slapped the old man's hand with the elegance of a mak yong dancer. The old man held her hands and mumbled Quranic verses. I videotaped the whole incident from my window but I don't think it's appropriate to upload it in youtube. I edited the videos into a 5 minute documentary and even included spooky background music. Hobby.
Although I acknowledge the existence of Jin I do not believe that we human beings are capable of being possessed by jin. During the ottoman empire period, it was believed that patients with epilepsy is possessed by jin and the only cure is exorcism. Today we know that epilepsy is caused by brain damage.
In my opinion, people who are possessed by jin has psychological problems like bipolar disoder or depression. Since malay muslims are not keen of seeking proper help when a family member has mental problems, they opt for traditional treatment usually done by bomohs or ustazs. It works wonders for some and others are left jaded by the prospect of ever inviting a religious looking man into their homes.
For those who were cured by bomohs, what can I say. Faith is a powerful thing. The human mind is capable of things we can never imagine or anticipate.
This is why magical spells are only effective when used against or for people who believes in the supernatural. This is why Daniel Radcliffe tak kena sampuk and Saiful Apek had to go to Indonesia to berubat. This is why Miley Cyrus Anti-fans can only send hateful comments on her youtube videos and Ziana Zain had to put an invisible wall around her house.

Your Fav M'sia Song

I want to make a music video.

I want to use a Malaysian patriotic song.

But I don't know which.

What's YOUR favourite patriotic song and why. (Here In My Home tak kira)



I've written 888 blog entries today! Here's a picture that sent me rolling on the floor before an unrecognised hand handed me an inhaler.

Happy 888 afiqsays.blogspot.com!


To be hurt by the truth is better than being comforted with lies. I learned that line from the novel Kite Runner. If you haven't read a good book lately I highly recommend Khaled Hosseini's Kite Runner. I finished the novel in a week, which didn't beat my record time for Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban when I was 15.
After a week of Pashtun, Kabob and Taliban, I think I'm ready for the Booker of Bookers, the greatest novel in 25 years: Midnight Children by Salman Rushdie.
I've a feeling this book will change my opinion of Salman Rushdie forever. I've been holding back from reading any Rushdie's books since Satanic Verses. But then again, I thought, Kite Runner was also banned in some countries. I drew a simple conclusion, the banning of good novels is mostly political, not religion related.

And yep, no conclusion for this blog entry.

; )