Aisatsu, Arigatou!

Dr. Sooi enters the classroom.

"Good morning, class," he greets us.

Only a few people mumble indistinct 'morning's in response. The rest of the class remains silent.

This has been the trend for the start of almost every class for the past 3 years of my university life. Some lecturers don't even bother with greetings anymore. They just get in and get cracking without so much as a hello.

It strikes me as such a far cry from our chorused "Selamat Pagi, Cikgu!" from our school days. No, I don't expect university students to stand up and shout "Good morning, Teacher!" in a singsong voice at the start of every class. But I would have thought that we could at least spare our lecturers the courtesy of replying to their greeting. It's a shame to say that the routine which we have repeated day after day for at least 11 years has made almost no infuence whatsoever to our adult lives.

Yet all hope is not lost. There are still a handful who feel the need to thank the lecturer after every class albeit unchorused and uttered personally as they pass by to leave the room.

This reminds me of the students in UiTM Penang. Like most universities, UiTM Penang provides buses to transport students to and from certain places. This service is free of charge and drivers are specifically employed to drive these buses. Although the drivers are clearly just doing their job, most of the students make it a point to thank the drivers when they get off the bus. This is an example of courtesy in it's finest. The students aren't required to thank the drivers, but they do. The drivers don't need to welcome the students, but they do.

And at times when I shake my head and sigh at the indifference of the people around me, I'm glad that I can think of the students of UiTM Penang with a smile.

Inanimate Gender

Something my Mom forwarded to me. Thought I'd share.

TIRES: Tires are male, because they go bald easily and are often over inflated

HOT AIR BALLOONS: Also a male object, because to get them to go anywhere, you have to light a fire under their butt.

SPONGES: These are female, because they are soft, squeezable and retain water.

WEB PAGES: Female, because they're constantly being looked at and frequently getting hit on.

TRAINS: Definitely male, because they always use the same old lines for picking up people.

EGG TIMERS: Egg timers are female because, over time, all the weight shifts to the bottom.

HAMMERS: Male, because in the last 5000 years, they've hardly changed at all, and are occasionally handy to have around.

THE REMOTE CONTROL: Female. Ha! You probably thought it would be male, but consider this: It easily gives a man pleasure, he'd be lost without it, and while he doesn't always know which buttons to push, he just keeps trying.

Boys Don't Cry

Men are from Mars. Mars is the Roman god of War. I don't think Men, as a rule, must be violent and full of bloodlust. But I do think that it should take a lot to reduce a Man to tears.

My father -- rock steady and solidly grounded. I've seen him outright angry. I've seen him excitedly happy. I've seen him valiantly masking his disappointment and fears. But only once have I seen him cry. He didn't cry when his father died. He didn't cry when we were so scarce of money we wondered how our family would survive. Only once in my whole lifetime -- long or short depends on one's perspective. Only once did my father succumb to tears and that was during a time my mother was so sick that she stopped breathing for a while.

To see a Man such as my father commit an act so innocent and common among their female counterparts -- too see any Man cry -- is for me, something entirely disturbing. It shakes the foundations of the ideology I have held on to ever since the time when I could understand the differences between males and females -- Man is stronger than Woman. Not necessarily better, not necessarily smarter. Simply that the extra Y in their chromosomes enable them greater physical strength and a higher resistance to tears.

So when my mother stopped breathing and my father's tears came, I felt like it was the end of the world. The unmovable mountain of dependability that my father represented had come crashing down with one drop of that saline seepage. Every worst case scenario I could imagine seemed about to come true.

Seeing my father's tears, something hardened in me. I took care of everything while my father took my mother to the hospital, all the while not producing a single tear myself. I would have taken care of everything even if my father had not cried but I would have sobbed and sniffled all the way. Deprived of my tears, I don't know how I looked while I comforted the youngest ones, Yusof and Betty Jane, and put them to bed. I wonder if I managed to put on the front that had crumbled on my father's facade. I hope I did.

My father hasn't shed one single tear since. I don't blame him for his moment of weakness. He remains that dependable mountain that shields this Daddy's Girl from everything undesirable. I hope I don't ever have to lose that mountain again. It is so scary when a Man cries. As a female, I can take up the reigns if a Man relinquishes his hold on them. I can even survive quite fine without a Man to take care of my life. But having a Man in front of me break down and cry....It will happen again, inevitably. I just hope I'll be prepared for that when it comes.

World Class University

I attend a "World Class University". Let me give you an insight on what that means.

There are too many students, too few lecturers. The optimum student to lecturer is 30:1. Classes often have up to 32~35 students. A bit too crowded. This is "World Class". The world is becoming overpopulated. Too many people, too little land, too few jobs, too many, too few...Just like my university.

Wireless connection is sluggish and flickers in and out of existence. Might as well have no wireless at all since we can't use it anyway. Most of the world does not have wireless connection anyway.

Roads are congested and pedestrians have difficulty crossing the roads. Most motorists care only about getting to their destination. The lack of a proper pedestrian crossing couple with the reluctance of motorists to stop or slow down and give way to pedestrians result in a fearful escapade of 'dodge the vehicle' each time one wishes to get to the other side of the road.

The classroom floors are garbage strewn. Despite the fact that most students are above 20 years old, they still to seem to not know the function of a garbage can aka rubbish bin. Which would be the case for the rest of the world as well. There is a reason why Singapore imposes such heavy fines for littering -- it's because most people just don't care enough to give a thought to where they put their trash. The fines provide that reason to care.

Being "World Class" doesn't necessarily mean a good thing.

An Immigrant's Patriotism

What do you do when you do not want to be ruled by others? Why, you become the master of yourself.

What do you do when you do not like the way others do something? Why, you do it yourself.

What do you do when you see an unbearable wrong? Why, you set it right.

That is my goal as a Malaysian. When I am old enough and wise enough, I shall be a politician. Yet here lies the conundrum in, not only Malaysian politics but, politics as a propensity anywhere in the world: How does an individiual force seek to go against the stubborn old ways, even if it is for the benefit of us all? How does one break the ranks of those selfishly holding the power and might of money, and not afraid to use it?

You see, I am a girl and there is nothing I can do about it. It's not wrong, of course, but I can't change it either. I can vote now but I don't see any existing party that has rightfully deserved my vote. I have my education thanks to the Malaysian taxpayers' money and I intend to repay them. But how? There is something integrally wrong with the current government. The oppositon is made up of a bunch of fools who think they are clever with catchy namecalling and wavering manifestos. I do not want to vote for any of these people. So what should I do? What should any person who loves their home do?

The answer is simple. Follow Dr. Mahathir's footsteps. Use kindness, compassion, and knowledge as empowerment instead of money. Seek power, not for selfish reasons, but for the good of the people as a whole. Dr. Mahathir climbed his way to the top of Malaysian democracy that way so there is no saying that I can't do at least something in the same manner. That is what I want to be, and will be, Allah willing.

No need to post pleading comments at chedet.co.cc asking for Dr. Mahathir to come back, to do something, to magically whip out a wondorous solution for all of Malaysia's problems. That isn't fair to him. He has served Malaysia well and deserves his rest. Now it is our turn to do something for our country. We need to stop growing fat and complacent on subsidies and hak istimewa. Read, for crying out loud. Do something other than complain or despair.

Understanding the Inevitable

I'm trying to make up my mind about which subject is more boring: Ethnic Relations or Geotechniques.

I had Ethnic Relations two semesters ago. I live in Malaysia where multiculturalism goes hand in hand with daily life and politics. Therefore, I understand the logic in creating a course that studies inter-ethnic relations. However, what was being presented in class was not as much ethnic understanding as it was government propaganda on the justification of 'Hak Istimewa Orang Melayu' (since it so clearly say so in the Perlembagaan...). Needless to say, I learned next to nothing except gained a better conviction of the idiocy of the individuals responsible for the definitions of race, ethnic, and other useless labels as stated in our textbooks.

On the other hand, theres Geotechniques. Last semester's Geotechniques course content consisted of mainly calculations, which was bearable to a certain extent. This semester is mainly theory. Firstly, I don't understand the logic in making us learn calculations before theory. To me, it makes more sense if we had an idea of why we were calculating whatever we were calculating. Anyway, theoretical Geotechniques is a bitch -- endless explanations about dirt, rocks, and walls. Our class had the (good?) fortune to be taught by arguably the most good-looking lecturer in the faculty. Sadly, his exceptional attractiveness doesn't make up for the unbearable boringness of Geotechniques. Consequently, every Geotechniques class is a daydreaming event filled with fantasies of hostile alien life forms attacking the class (sometimes featuring me leaping to the rescue) or other violent and action-packed phantasms as only in a Geotechniques class.

So, I belive I've got my answer. Definitely Geotechniques is more boring. The conclusion is, daydreams' level of ridiculousness is directly proportional to the class' level of boringness.

-The End-

Ambidextrous

"Hello,” I say. I hold out my hand. Ali does not take it. He only stares. His smile falters slightly. He looks puzzled. I wonder why.

“You shake hands with your right,” Ali points out. He extends his right hand. I take it.I don’t understand the difference.

Ali asks the time. I hold up my left wrist. My watch is there. I tell him the time. Ali looks puzzled. I can only ask why.

Ali holds up his right wrist. I see his watch. He fixes the time.

“Everyone here wears it like this,” he says.

Ali is boring. He keeps telling me I do things wrong. I am tired of that. So, I go away. I go somewhere else.

I see Sally. Sally is coloring. That looks fun. I go join Sally. I pick up a pencil. Coloring is fun.

“Weird!” Sally exclaims. I look around. Nothing is weird. I look at Sally. She looks at my hand. My hand holds the pencil. It is my right hand.

Sally holds up her pencil. Sally’s pencil is in her left hand. I move my pencil. Now I use my left hand. I do not understand the difference. Coloring is fun.

Ali comes by. He wants to join. He looks at our pencils.“Left hand!” he exclaims. Ali uses his right hand.

Now I am angry. I pick up another pencil. I color with my left hand. I color with my right hand. I color with both. Coloring is fun.

“Left hand!” says Ali.

“Right hand!” says Sally.

“Weird!” say both.

I ignore them. I do not care. I want to color. Maybe I should use my feet. I ponder that thought. Just to be really different.

Defying Gravity

It’s nostalgic, this feeling – giddy like an angau-stricken teenager. It’s annoying yet somehow refreshing. I was beginning to think I’ve lost all ability to be attracted to anyone.

So, I think about Someone a lot. More than normal, in fact. My heart acts like a trapped butterfly inside a (rib)cage each time my SMS alert goes off. Silly me, can I be hoping that Someone texted me? That’s ridiculous.

I’m Notoriously Single. I don’t want to lose that title now, do I? I’d like to be known for something.

But at the end of the day, I find myself wondering senseless and dangerous thoughts such as Did Someone think of me at all today? Or I wonder what Someone is doing now.

Shoo. Shoo. Go away, Bad Thoughts.

I reach for my phone. It’s just a passing fancy. I’m just killing time, really. I’m in control of my feelings. I’m an adult. I can get out of this any time I want, no problem.

Put the phone down! That’s dangerous! Bad Idea! Bad!

Yet still, those thoughts I try hardest to suppress come creeping back like a cat at a dinner table. To my horror, I find myself contemplating the ‘L-word’ – taboo in my dictionary.

I suppress the urge to violently ram my head against the wall. A migraine might keep my mind off Someone, but migraines are no fun. Trust me.

I don’t know the first thing about how Someone’s mind works, nor thought process, nor tendencies. I know only superficial things. Inconsequential things.

Impossible.

I blame my temporary insanity on the racing pulse and unstable hormones due to a swollen thyroid gland.

Eureka!

Now, I can sleep.

Its a Free World but are we Free?

Freedom is such a boastful word. A Utopian concept -- idealistic and far removed from reality. In truth, the definition of Freedom as we know it is not more than a lie to fuel the imagination of the Oppressed, kindle Hope in the minds of the Lost, and confound those who thought they have reached it.

Can anyone really be Free? Can we be devoid of Rules, Regulations and Obligations? Is it possible to be so Independent as not to rely on anyone, anything, at all? These are a lot of questions to be answered and I am not sure whether I am capable of providing them.

I'll use myself as an example. I have named this blog 'Jiyuu' -- the Japanese word for 'Freedom'. Supposedly, its a representation of my Freedom of Thought; that I am Free to discuss or reveal anything I want here. However, when it comes to exposing something of potentially personal value, my fingers hesitate. I find myself avoiding topics which might reveal too much of myself or instead, using allegory to skirt around it. What then becomes of my so-called Freedom? In the end, I Oppress myself. I am not free of my past betrayals hence the armour around my heart serves as much as a prison as it is a defence. Despite a chance of 'Freedom' offered, a path of restriction and guard is what I choose. What then of my Freedom?

High schoolers often complain of the many seemingly-endless Rules imposed on them. Uniforms must be worn, we must do what our Elders say, hair must be cut short and not colored...and a plethora of other ridiculous Rules designed to restrict our Freedom in every possible way. Ah, the day when I shall be Free of School and Rules!!! I am now Free of School but I find I am not Free of its Rules. Even though there is no longer any Penalty or Punishment if I Disobey the Rules, there are many that I still Obediently Follow. You must go to School to be a Good Person. People with low Formal Education are Inferior. Men must be Leaders and are Superior to Women (I am a believer of this although I cannot justify it).

Even if human beings are let to live with the prospect of being Free, we always find Rules, Codes, Ethics, or Routines that we Impose on ourselves and Follow. Where then, do we get the idea of Freedom? Free as a Bird, they say, but even Birds must have their own Rules that they Follow. Fly in formation, the Early Bird catches the Worm, Poison Ivy makes Bad nest material.

Perhaps the idea of Freedom was thought up by some Air Headed Idiot who did not Think-things-through. Other Idiots thought that the Idea seemed Beautiful and quickly Latched On -- Taunting others with it, yet Forever Searching themselves.

I named my blog 'Jiyuu'. Perhaps I am One-of-those-Idiots.

Small talk

I'm in West Malaysia most of the year so I only get to go back to my hometown Tawau during term break. When you haven't seen people in a long time, it gets harder to maintain conversation. Most of the time you find yourself saying the same things and repeating yourself. Now that's no fun.

One of the comments that I get often is 'Besarnya suda kau!' (you've gotten so big). Mostly from not-so-close family members. It's a lie, of course. I'm 21 years old. I haven't grown an inch in 2 years. I haven't gained 2 kilos in 5 years. There's no way no how I could have gotten any bigger since the last time they saw me.

I put up with it because they probably can't think of anything else to say. Its just a formality. Maybe its tradition as well. Pretty soon it'd be expected of me to say the same lines to they're children. Hmm...I just might. I'm not good with small talk either.

Even with Nena-nee there are recurring topics in our catch-up conversations. Some of them are:

• We're both crazy
• Amanda is still single
• Persidangan Bulan Lima: The Nightmare Bitch

In this case, I don't mind the small talk. Its a break from some of the stress. However, there's a lot of other types of Small Talk that really gets on my nerve. Take the following examples:

• Suda makan ka? (Have you eaten?) - The hell you asking me that for? If I'm hungry, I'll eat. And if I don't, what are you going to do? Force feed me or something? Something as trivial as that, you might as well ask whether or not I've bathed today.
• What are you doing? - This question may be relevant in some instances. On the other hand, when what I'm doing is plain as day obvious, I don't appreciate the disruption in my concentration.
• West Malaysian Idiot: Where are you from?/Me: I'm from Sabah/West Malaysian Idiot: Oh, did you get here by plane then? - I'm not even going to comment on this one.

In conclusion, please think before you open your mouth to say something.....

What is love?

And there are so many different answers to that…

I’ll tell you what love is NOT. Love is NOT:

# as in the Hindustani movies…those are pure lies and overdramaticized fiction…come on la…

# love at 1st sight. That, in truth, is LUST.

# ‘Chemistry’, Intense and explosive. Anyone who has learned chemistry can tell you that the most intense and explosive reactions are unstable and short-lived, and take up a lot of energy.

Love is something created by poets and playwrites. Soulmates are idealized beings, believed in by people in order to make an excuse for their failure to make a relationship work.

Ever wonder why the divorce rate in the ‘olden days’ was never that high? Its because when people got married, they resigned themselves to living with that one and the same person for the rest of their lives and in the end, spending their thoughts, energy in time into making things work with each other. Today however, people divorce on the basis of ‘not in love anymore’. They spend their time explaining (making excuses) about why they can’t live together, instead of trying to fix things. Then set off trying to find "The One"…Good luck with that.

So, what is love? It is when two people can live with each other, can tolerate their behavior, trust and understand. Its not a matter of destiny or DNA, its an act of cooperation and symbiosis.

My musical preference

Okay, okay, so love songs might not be so bad. Some of them are quite good actually. No, I’m not acting like a 10-year-old when I say I don’t like listening to love songs. And no, I have nothing against man-woman relationships. And no, i am not lesbian, thank you very much, Fizul.

So back to the reason for the blog entry. Love songs. As I said, its not the idea that the songs are about love that disgusts me. What I don’t like is the certain aspects that seem to be so popular in love songs. Firstly, break ups. Unrequitted love. I don’t mind the occasional songs that sound like ‘We like each other and that’s nice’. However, I totally despise the ones that go ‘You left me and I can’t live’. Pathetic.

Secondly, obsession bordering worship. So you like the guy, that’s fine. But saying it once is enough. Twice, if you think we didn’t hear you the first time. A whole song is kind of excessive, in my opinion. All the ‘birds flying, sun shining, rainbows in the sky’ kind of thing really gets in your–well, my–face. It gives the impression that people who are in love all live in Teletubbyland. And if that’s true, then I really won’t fall in love. I’ll take the real world over Teletubbyland any day, rain clouds and all. (It’s not that I don’t like good weather, its the Teletubbies’ vaccuum cleaner–it freaks me out)

Third, there just seem to be TOO MANY of them! I mean, how many different ways can you describe that one feeling? How many times can you recycle the same theme for a song? Not to mention the same words rearranged in slightly different, often similar ways. If we judge humanity according to the Billboard Top 100, then humanity will pass off as ‘lovelorn and sex-crazed’.

Really, is that who we are?

To Alip: Change

People do change. Sometimes the change is so small, so subtle that people don't notice. Sometimes the change is gradual and takes years and also goes unnoticed. Only after a revelatory event, or a long-time-no-see then you may hear that "My God, you have CHANGED!!" or "I barely recognized you…". Both those phrases can go either way whether positively or negatively. Sometimes, its just a change in appearance. Other times, the individual herself mutates…
What happens when someone you love changes?? Well, if you love them enough, you’d change with them. If its not worth it, they change, you make allowances for their change and they say your not the person they fell in love with anymore. That's when the divorce attorney gets called in.
All in all, you can say people change. But in my opinion the word change is for things that are less dynamic, like the interior of a room. People…people live. And with every new knowledge and experience the gain, they live on with it. It alters our way of thinking and perceptions. We are dynamic. We live.
On a personal note, there are also people who refuse to change. They deny all knowledge that they think will jeopardize their being and instead try to change the people around them. These people are called blind. And their blindness is self inflicted. They are also idiots, but….Well, my advice: reality may have been put into TV but lets not put the soap operas in reality please…

Blogging

Right. Blogging. I started with a friendster blog which I'd update once in a blue moon when I feel like it. I was more of a pen and paper writer and I didn't really like the idea of having to wait for my laptop to boot up before being able to jot down a thought.

However, having a blog does have its perks. I can share my thoughts with people, such as they are, and its nice to get feedback.

Nena-nee suggested I create a blogspot blog since (according to her) the friendster blog is lame. So here I am, typing my very brief history of blogging.

Saate to, I'll get started.