Any Questions?

"Ye Afiq Deen...?"

Szuraiha looked at me with her twinkly eyes.

"Hah!" Alamak, kantoi tengah sketch UFO dan tidak memberi perhatian dalam kelas. "But I didn't ask anything!"

"But you have a question for me now, no?"

"No, I don't Szuraiha."

Szuraiha gave me a faint smile and proceed with her next topic. "Typical!" I thought to myself. "Just because I ask one question everyday, everyone assumes that I am the Lord of Questions and should therefore fill the required question quota."

Babi betol.

That's how things are in UIA or any institution where malays are the majority. I can't explain why but malay students dislike asking questions. The only people in my class who asks questions are foreigners and myself. Oh yeah, and Kak Zihan. Kak Zihan asks stupid questions. I never believed in 'stupid questions' but boy oh boy, whatever that comes out from this girl's mouth that ends with a question mark is remarkably stupid.

I asked Megat and he told me that I wouldn't understand why malay students dislike asking questions because I was schooled in private schools.

"Pelajar melayu dah diajar secara subliminal supaya tak tanya atau mempersoal guru-guru mereka."

Amboi DBP sungguh rakanku ini. Megat also told me that asking questions is deemed disrespectful and kurang ajar in the malay culture.

"I can relate to that."

I never asked about anything other than the obvious to my parents. Google and Yahoo! taught me what I need to know about sex. It was truly coincidental that I learnt about orgy, BDSM, gangbang and anal sex the same day I searched for the word 'sex'.

Oh yeah, if I'm not kurang ajar enough, I call lecturers with no doctorate of phD by their first name. I don't think it's wrong, do you?

I just think we're all equals in the eyes of God.

Any Questions?

Racist Promotion

In line with Pacific's latest voucher promotion, the store used two large ladies as their mascots. Although the selection of models can be deemed as insensitive towards large/ fat/ gemok/ dugong/ boyot people, this notion is understandable because it is for the Ganjaran 'Berganda' Ulang Tahun.

However I find this promotion ad positively racist. Take a look for yourself:

Now, why is the malay lady only holding RM150 worth of voucher when the chinese lady a whopping RM400?

Why?

Is it because Pacific thinks malay consumers spends less money shopping at its stores? Or is it because Pacific thinks the chinese are much wealthier than the malays and sees it fit to display the economical difference with its ads?

Or is it just me and my racist malay supremacy sentiments?

10 More Days

I have 10 more days left before I turn 22!

Sun, wind and high altitude. This is a good place to end my life.

Wind, water and high altitude. This is a good place to die.

10 days to go 'till the 19th and I'm feeling the heat of weariness engulfing my spirit. Do you know that feeling? It's lethargy, anger and regret balled up into one very fiery mojito. Thank god there were nasi kandar, nasi subaidah, nasi lemak lamoni, laksa tanjung bungah and pasembur gurney to insulate these dangerous compacted emotions from seeping out of me. More in, less out.

I'm nervous

1 am

I went clubbing at one of Penang's 'safest' clubs. It is considered safe because the club strictly prohibits drugs of any kind. I ordered Sprite and sat on the balcony to watch how pimps and their whores operate.

I studied how whores used the art of seduction to seduce drunk men. There is a system, you see. Miss A will grind herself against Mr.B to figure out what turns Mr.B on. Okay, so Miss A finds out that Mr.B likes ass so Miss A calls Miss S to replace her. Miss S is an ugly whore with an unusually large ass. Miss S gives Mr. B a little feel before whispering Mr.B her service charge. Mr.B agrees and off they go to a neaby hotel or motel.

By distributing whores with focused assets to delusional potential customers, the pimp is actually defying the Law of Diminishing Returns because no whore will be left unattanded by the end of the morning because of the gradual and steady rate of 'employment'.

But there were times when two whores with similar focused assets faces limited market opportunity. When this happens, they will ward each other off the potential customer with coarse language whispered audibly to each other's ears or to a grind-off. A grind-off is a grinding competition in which the subject of grind is the potential customer.

I think I finally found out why I don't like to go clubbing. There are so many things happening simultaneously and because of my tendency to over-analyse, I will over-indulge myself in the intricacy of mind-numbing chaos that will leave me feeling nauseous and light-headed.

I prefer analyzing the full moon, crushing waves and the clear velvet sky because there is very little to know about these mighty treasures of God and yet my heart feasted greedily at the very sight of them.

God is Great.

22nd on the 19th

My birthday is coming up soon and adhering to the tradition of awaiting my point of existence, I will reflect myself extensively. I know it sounds cool. I myself would like to think that I would do my reflecting by staring at the unknown on a hilltop facing a sublime view of a beautiful landscape. But I'm a simple and selekeh person so what I did was I stared at the asbestos ceiling and asked myself "Why?"

"Why am I alive? What is my purpose? Am I in the right direction to serve my purpose? How have I become better or worse from last year?"

Every year, I failed to answer these questions with a straight answer. Or with a straight face.

There are several stages of nearing the 19th of June. A week before the 19th, there will be a hint of remorse in the way I talk, as if reminded of the imensity of every single mistakes I did for the past year. My vices will be analysed with unforgiving scrutiny and faults magnified. On the 19th, I will feel relief slowly filling in the trenches of despair. Slowly. It would accelerate when celebrated with friends and family but I haven't had a proper birthday reception for half a decade.

Maybe people my age should not be fussed over little things like birthdays. Birthdays are to be kept to an acceptable minimum for young adults so they could be more concerned about work and earn their own birthday celebrations. Maybe. Though I dearly missed the Cake. The Candles and the official blowing of them. The Yeays and Congratulations when the lights are turned on and the plastic knife brought forth.

Whether or not I had an acceptable birthday on the 19th, on the 20th, a new sun rised and gleamed on my slighly pimply forehead just before I announced to the world the new two digits that will be associated to me for another whole year. I walked out of my room a new man, ready to make mistakes so I can learn from them, ready for new experiences and discoveries, ready for another year to figure out the anwers to the questions I asked myself everynight for 14 days, only to realize again and again that those questions are not meant to be answered with words but to be gradually realized with continuous attainment of age and wisdom.

And what better way to attain wisdom faster than to read good books? I'm not asking for much. A few good books will make me so happy that if there's a machine to produce electricity using happiness, I can light up a city during Earth Hour.