Happy Birthday

To be honest yo, I was a boy whose diet was controlled by my mom and whose behavior was under constant scrutiny. I was a moulding of success, or so she thought. Haha. I was given the best of attention and by misdeeds specifically lying resulted a heavy beatings of rotan, tali pinggang, hanger, you name it. I was even sent to an attic and wasn't allowed to go to school because I lied about my report card. Why was I so afraid to show my report card? I didn't fail or anything...

I was a very well-behaved boy who didn't have the chance to be a kid because being a kid was considered lupa diri. Hahah. Imagine telling an 7 year old they are lupa diri when they meet his/her cousins to play outside the house. Hahah. I was even pinched every time I did something childish when I was a child. Imagine that, restricting a child to be childish. Can you blame me now if I run around the corridor or ride my bicycle on the fourth floor early in the morning or sleep on a football field when it is raining heavily or take long walks from Gombak to Ampang to hilangkan tension?

Maybe it was because of my parents' high expectations, okay maybe my mom's. Sure she didn't have to tell me so but she implied it, in a good motherly way of course. I was schooled in a Tahfiz Pondok school and was later put into two private schools. Dang, thinking about it, she put a lot of effort in raising me to be a 'perfect' adult. I know she's frustrated of me now. I know she still think of me as an ungrateful child who broke her heart to pieces. I know she think I'm not doing well academically as I ought to, given my past success with government exams. I know how she feels about me and how she thinks I feel about her but I'm here to clarified what I really feel.

I feel free.

Not because I am no longer talking to her but in her absence I finally, finally live as myself. I want to be successful because I want to. I want to be good to my friends because I want to. I want to be a good muslim because I want to. I feel exhilarated to know that I found my own voice and I can actually use it, not to make my parents proud but to make me find my calling, to get closer to my passion, to get closer to God.

Yes I was suicidal. I guess it's genetic. My dad and all my aunts and uncles were suicidal at some point in their lives. I remembered wanting to jump off from my bedroom window. My mom shouted "Lompat lah!" I didn't want to give her the satisfaction so I didn't. Thank god for that : D

She taught me a lot about life. She taught me that impossible is nothing long before Adidas came out with that slogan. She taught me that the only way to achieve success is through hardwork and discipline. In short, she basically set a foundation for my future and no matter how I insisted when I was a teenager, her advice will eventually haunt me a few months(or years) later.

I now understand how hard it is for her to let me go. She never wanted to let me go. I sort of... escaped. I now understood her emotional blackmailing and imposed guilt trip. I'm glad I understood things like this now than much later or else it would be to late for her to know that I am forever thankful for her guidance. But it is time to let me go. It is time to watch me fall and get up again without having to lift me up herself. I know I hurt her a lot. But I like to think that she needs an excuse to hate me to let me go. (See, I am not as impulsive as everybody thinks I am. I craft my impulsiveness most carefully and set a pattern of foolish actions to achieve an unlikely negative circumstance that will somehow bring more good than a collective positive episodes can ever do.)

The fact of the matter is, I am forever thankful of my mother's sacrifices and I won't repay her in cash, car or credit card but by benefiting others with love and attention she'd showered onto me.

Happy Birthday Umi.

Happy Birthday Hadi. Don't worry. Getting 3 As will not determine your future (unless you want to be a doctor lah). What don't kill you will make you stronger. Study harder. Don't screw around with girls. Please take some time to memorize this very important formula:

Girls = Failing exams+Evil+Money

Princess Pornonia

A close friend of mine bought a Made In China mp4 'I-Pod' recently and guess what's the first thing he compressed from his pc to his erm... Tunez?

PORN.

Why am I not surprised? People deprived of information on sex when they were younger will later have a life long habit of watching porn. It's only natural. My parents told me nothing about sex. Maybe they think I'll learn it in school or friends but the only education I got from my school is the journey of sperms to a woman's ovaries and from friends: Oh man! haven't you heard of the missionary style before, no no no, orgies are more fetch.

To be honest, I myself watch porn sometimes. I won't try to bullshit you by telling you that it was out of curiosity when it is actually an aid to relief myself. I know you're thinking that this kind of thing should be disclosed to myself but I am trying to make a point here.

Some watch porn to relief themselves and others watch it because it's fun. With today's society's sense of materialism and a minimum requirement of RM10,000 to get married, am I to be blamed to be lacking of action of a specific kind? Abstinence of sex can only last half a decade but abstinence of relief?

But what concerns me though is that pornography is now watched recreationally in a habitual sense. Like smoking or drinking. It either provides a thrill or as calming effect, depending on a person's view on sex. I personally find it sickening that people treat pornography so... secretly and almost to a point sacredly. And people who responded to porn with a pretense of the day of judgement, I find them really really annoying and as I will probably be aware of later on, hypocritical.

I am not saying porn should be watched, comprehended or kept casually but maybe it should. Maybe that's how the human mind works. Let's say Matrix is your all time favourite movie, I don't think you'll watch the same shit everynight for a whole year and still think it's still your favourite movie a year later. By holding on to something and to treat it with undivided secrecy, that something is bound to become perniciously beautiful. So pernicious it will eat your sense of judgement of a particular subject with so much wrath, it'll surprise you how our whole lives can go down the drain because of it. Can porn do such a thing? Yes it can, if it is constantly treated like a fairy tale princess. But if it is left exposed without any sense of attached loyalty, we will somehow figure out the void of the whole existence of pornography, a first step of detaching ourselves altogether from it.



A rule I know by heart: Oppression = Resistance

Somebody ADD Me! (nyanyi seperti lagu Smallville)

Well, as you might have noticed, I changed the header because I was too embarassed to look at my own, ehem, revealing picture. Yes yes, I'm a shy shy guy. Boohoo.

I'm not sure why people are getting more fascinated with myspace and ignoring their friendster profiles. I think friendster is much more convenient and is easier to reconnect loosened ties.

Myspace features kind of caters for those who are willing narcissists.

So I have both!

I'm thinking of launching a facebook too.

I know you can only get a lot of friends if you're really really goodlooking or really really hype or really really slutty but I too have a share of a really really trait. I really really love to think about things, sometimes unnecessary stuff. And I really really like to read. Does that really really count?

So do me a favour by adding me as one of your friends. I'm sure people will get jealous coz you have me as one of your friends later in life (when I get filthy rich and surrounded by by-the-hour babes)

I can't picture myself upadating my friendster or myspace profile in ten years time. So old still want to post emo pictures to fetch comments. Aiya!

Here are my profiles:

Afiq's Myspace (In dire need of Friends!)

&

Afiq's Friendster (tak kisah pun tiga lima, siapa kentut keluaq bunga)

I'm using this picture as the primary picture (yeah, tiada alasan bagimu) :

Don't add any other Afiq, just Afiq from Afiqsays.


Huahuahuahuaharun!

Is it Really a Life Cycle?

There is a common perception of assuming everyone will indulge in a bit evil at some point of their life. A studiomate of mine was reading aloud an article about an actress whose suggestive photos were dug up by a tabloid magazine. She didn't deny it and told the tabloid, "kalau tak buat muda-muda, bila lagi?" This perception is many a time seconded by my friends and family to a point that it is acceptable to indulge in a sinful scenario at least once in a lifetime, like it is a phase. My mother sometimes hinted that it is okay to go clubbing and I should experience the nightlife because 1. I'm still young. 2. I have nothing to lose.

Oddly enough, it is also expected for somebody who exudes piety to somehow morally rot later in life. I find this perception amusing, if it were not untrue. It is as if we have a barometer of good deeds and when it exceeds its limit, it will, at some point, explode. And whenever I protested the idea, people who told me of this 'life formula' will talk of real people who got their taste of trying to be too good. "So it's better to go clubbing, have drugs, smoke and have sex while we're still young?" I would usually retort. "Exactly!" they'll answer.

I personally think people who have this perception are justifying their past or present actions because "everyone's doing it" and "it's better now than after marriage". That or they are questioning god's greatest and most significant creation: human beings. Animals for instant do whatever they're doing based on instinct alone and nothing else. We, homosapiens base our actions through reason. Muslims base our actions through both revelation and reason.

The common 'do now than later' idea is loosely connected to our most basic emotion: curiousity. When I was smaller, I was bombarded with No's and Don'ts and when I asked why? because God says so! Maybe adults would think that reasoning with a small boy will have no effect on them to respond to real situations later in life but they, these so-called adults taught me ABC and I'm still using the alphabets to write and read.

Jangan minum arak, haram! Nanti masuk neraka!

Jangan rokok, haram! Nanti masuk neraka!

Being a smart aleck like I was (or probably still am) I responded "Tapi bapak rokok apa..."

Oh, bapak lain cerita.

Aik. Not knowing the real-life complication of smoking and drinking, I drank like Dato' Linggam and smoke like a train when I finally got out of home. The concept of Neraka and Syurga was too illusive to be taken seriously, especially when hormones reigns control. A yeal later when I read Leo Tolstoy about the reason why men stupefy themselves, I know now that the reason why so many people drink is to drown and darken their conscience. How many times have you heard people who had to drink before doing anything physically risky. French troops too were given alcohol before they fought the Boer war. Murders, rapes, accidents and other human-inflicted tragedies were caused by people who were too drunk to think straight.

Smoking may not physically stupefy our senses but it is a habit that gives enough reason for us not to think so much. When I sit down, doing nothing, I will subsequently be flooded with ideas, problem that needs solving, friends in need, appreciation of my surrounding etc. but when I take out a cigarette, light it and smoke, my thoughts will be diverted and simpler and more attractive tasks will come to mind and the only thing I would think of are my ideas. That's why some people can't do their work without smoking because they will become less self-critical and ignore their own contradiction which will perpetually produce work of lesser quality. And that is also why people who are under stress smoke, so they will only be able to apprehend a small portion of the problem.

So in short, smoking and drinking will make us morally immoveable.

Metaphorically, these habits will deny us from looking at an object in front of us. Our sight will either be diverted to something more simple and attractive (smoking) or our eyes will be shut altogether (drinking).

So to say thay we human will be victims of life's cycle of deeds and misdeeds is just plain rubbish. Mistakes are made when people do not have enough knowledge to judge a situation and shit happens in life to guide us back to the right path. So if we drink/go clubbing/ do drugs to forget about it, we will have to encounter the same thoughts when we wake up only for it to be forgotten by distracting ourselves again and again and again....

If I knew this before I got out of home, I wouldn't have to face my misdeed's consequences on earth or (god forbids, wait, he made the rules!) during the afterlife.

So it is not a cycle. The cycle is entirely up to us. The cycle is not imposed nor is it compulsary. We made it compulsary. Two words guys: Revelation & REASON!

WHY?

I haven't sleep for the past 48 hours and I got to say, hallucination is so much better than watching movies. I've been seeing 'things' for a few hours now and none of its antiques can scare me. You know what's scary though?


Doing my laundry because when I leave my clothes to gyral for mercy in the washing machine, there will be this big muscular african guy who would wait for me to go to the canteen or back to my room and steal my boxers. He will usually (note the utter normalcy of the event taking place) take out one (just one) boxer of mine and, wait for it.... smell it, put it in his pocket and go back to his room. He's really huge so I'm pretty sure he's not wearing them and my boxers aren't branded either.


My boxers may not be expensive but they are 10 ringgit each dammit!


I realized his streak of boxer stealing when I got back to the washing machine earlier than he anticipated and I watched him smelling my detergent-smelling boxers from afar. I wasn't ultimately furious with his unlikely fetish, just curious with his choice of fetish object. Why not steal my suspenders or socks or change accumulating more than a ringgit? Why boxers?

WHY?

I ought to leave him a tell-a-tale lipstick smooch on my worn boxers. I ought to. But I'm afraid he will follow me to my room and god-knows-what.

I'm losing a boxer every week. I'm afraid of the thief.

I'm fucked.

Negaraku

I seriusly don't get what the fuss is really about. Kita ni hypocrit sangat ke?

Just because he's malay and muslim, he is no different than Brad Pitt or Matt Damon, he is an entertainer and entertainers entertains people with antiques like showing their nasi lemak friendly stomach. Faizal Tahir is another victim of Malaysian hypocrisy. I think there are more outrageous things happening in Malaysia like Linggam's "He looks like me, he sounds like me BUT it's not me." and the tilting headshot of Sharlinie all over KL. Keling betol. (no offence, no offence...) I don't make stereotypes guys, I just see them.

We went to Dataran Merdeka to shoot a documentary video about the historical site and I came across a poster of Pak Lah and the verses of Negaraku underneath his face potrait. Are we really a democratic country, Pak Lah? Are we? Because posters like that are only displayed in countries controlled by communists or regimes. Similar to Chairman Mao and Saddam Hussein's self-branding propaganda, the posters of our prime minister on top of a national song implies feudalism. That, or PakLah's wicked sense of vainity reigns supreme.

"The time is fast approaching when to call a man a patriot will be the deepest
insult you can offer him. Patriotism now means advocating plunder in the
interests of the priviledged classes of the particular state system into which
we have happened to born."

- E. Belfort Bax.

It is not wrong then to think that In-Wong Hwang's perception on Malaysia being controlled by a coallition of regimes is, you know, true. The Machiavelian sense of governmental control can no longer be sensible in the newly educated and learned Malaysia. Or is it?

Malaysia is ready for a new swing of honest journalism and politics. During Mahathir's time, newspaper editors were forced to resign because they were Anwar or Musa sympathizers and now, as you have probably noticed, our newspapers are very very pro BN. There's nothing wrong with this if not for the fact that journalists are forced to comply with BN's ideals.

Now is the era where three beastly agents are running our country with their undisputed power and influence: BN politicians, the Press and Capitalists. What are you going to do, bhai?

What are we going to do? We can gossip about Faizal's shirtless episode and ooooh, Siti pakai tudung tapi nyanyi? Suara bukan aurat ke? Hanjeng kau Siti! Hanjeng je kemutan purnama you!

Ooooooh...

(Ends entry with a few lines from Ella Fitzgerald's song)

I'm wild again, beguiled again

A simpering, whimpering child again

Bewitched, bothered and bewildered - am I

Couldn't sleep and wouldn't sleep

When love came and told me, I shouldn't sleep

Bewitched, bothered and bewildered - am I

Lost my heart, but what of itHe is cold I agree

He can laugh, but I love it

Although the laugh's on me

Jodoh, oh jodoh...

I cried for a full hour last night after a flat-out realization of my incapability to love. I claim I can love when really, I'm all out of love. What made me cry was a sequent of activities revolving the potrayal and depiction of love. It was purely coincidental. I watched the Notebook, read some of Ovid's love poem and received and SMS from my girlfriend of two years. The first two thing I did made me cry like a nancy and the text message put me off just like THAT.

I curled in my bed and thought of business ideas to put my mind off love. Money outranks love anytime, or so I thought. The more I tried to persuade myself that love is destined, its a fitrah, jodoh ditentukan tuhan, more tears drizzled along the crevices of my cheeks, joining the accidental tear brought by the movie and poems.

It was a miserable night, last night.

I will wait for my true love, love, love, it may even be my girlfriend for time too is an agent of love. Love can trascends so far from my love of my mother, father and brothers but it seems that real love will seek me, not the other way around.

Muse, wreathe your golden tresses
With myrtle of the sea,
And in eleven stresses
Compose our poetry.

Insya Allah.