GAH!!

YARGH!! I can't stand it!! I'm so tired but I don't want to because I'm supposed to be awake at work and even if I'm not doing work I want to be doing my script-writing stuff but I can't do it while I'm so freaking lethargic and sleepy!!! I can't keep my head up straight and my arms feel ticklish and tired and heavy! Good Lord HELP ME!!!

BLAST BLAST BLAST BLAST!! Man, I need a new computer game. What I would give to be working for a gaming magazine now. It'll be a blast, cuz I'll be playing games and writing about them and even if I have to be playing to worst games of this century I'd probably still have fun.

There goes my fingers now...

Imagine, I've all grown into the age where most boys would have grown out of gaming, or at least the cravings to play every single thing out there and here I am pining about gaming. Since I've stopped getting allowance from my parents, or more like taking... I haven't bought a single game for more than a year. I've been more careful on what games I want buy, and have compiled a list of games that I want to buy, but have never gotten round to it simply because I don't earn enough to buy them.

Some people may ask, why can't you afford them? Surely even with your RM600 salary you'd surely not be stingy about spending RM5 for a game. Thats the problem. I'm so commited to not supporting piracy that I have to sacrifice gaming and buying DVD's on a whim. But then again, some people around me STILL buy pirated games and God its always to nice to ask to borrow the games just to play it and claim that I have no part in supporting piracy. I even watch pirated DVD's even if I don't buy them!! God I'm such a hypocrite!! Maybe I should just stop watching DVD's and asking to play games. NYURGH!! So hard to go cold turkey!!

I'll stop ranting just about... now... I mean, NOW... now... right now. I'll stop right here. Okay, that does it... I'll stop typing.......... NOW!

Hoo boy

Turns out that some people think the Jedi Religion link goes down to the registration to sign up as a Jedi. Time to rectify that. It is not a registration!! It's a movie conerning the Jedi religion. If you haven't already downloaded it by stealing your company's bandwidth, then I recommend you do it NOW!!

Sex sex sex

Some of the company's clients that came over today, and are still here, were talking about sex, and how whether someone was cranky because she hadn't had sex lately.

That reminded me of a website that I came across by a longshot, called Maggot Punks. The site engages on abortion issues, and the guys and girls that run it are pretty much anti-God and anti-anti-abortionists. Before I go on, I'm going to predict your question and say the answer is no, the double 'anti' is not a typo. The stuff that they type there is very engaging and often disturbing, and will force you to think more about abortion issues. Also they will often slam and profile Christian fundamentalists, particularly the ones that appear before abortion clinics prostesting. For this reason, the Maggot Punks also provide escort service for anyone wanting to visit the clinics.

Now that I've introduced them, I'll get to the main point for which I started this thread. Thinking about abortion, you'd have to wonder about all the argument that surrounds the issue. Is it or is it not moral to abort a baby? If I were to argue on this, this blog will go on and on and on. Personally, I think its wrong, but for another reason on top of the fact that I think its murder.

The introduction of the contraceptives back in the days of Flower Power heralded the day that we can finally grab the reigns of control of another part of our bodily functions. Now, coupled with its ally, the condom, people could have free reign of who and when they can copulate with, without undesireble consequences. We now have the power of CHOICE.

Now, the key words are 'CHOICE' and 'WITHOUT UNDESIRABLE CONSEQUENCES'. When you hear about teenage pregnancies, and fathers of those pregnancies in the news, the most common excuses that I've heard are, "I'm not ready to have a child." "I didn't want to get pregnant." And then they cry and whine that they want to get an abortion. I'm sorry if I'm being offensive here, but what did they think sex was for? Its like using sticks of dynamite to play the drums. You're inevitably going to get pregnant if you keep at it, as much as the sticks of dynamite going bang. The excuses are nothing more than an attempt to shirk of any claim to responsibility to their actions and CHOICES that led up to those very actions.

The availability to have an abortion is providing a way for people to deny their responsibility for their decision to engage in pre-marital sex, and shrug off the responsibility for having to care for a dependent, also known as an child. Humans are notorious for looking for ways to avoid responsibility for their actions because they cannot face the reality of CONSEQUENCE.

Feel free to leave offensive posts now...

Jedi Religion?

Just came across some rather interesting stuff today while I was surfing over the net. I've found out that you can be officially recognized as a Jedi in Auckland, New Zealand. In NZ, all it takes for a religion to be recognized by the government administration is 8000 declarations. What a weird world we live in, eh? Check it out.

The Trouble with this Brain...

Well, yeah. I think my brain is wired and optimized for being lazy. Here I am in front of my computer, with nothing else in the office to do other than websurf. The only thing I had to do this week was to make a photocopy of some documents, which I made a little mess of unfortunately.

Well, while websurfing, I was just re-conceptualizing a script for today's script writing class because I forgot to bring my finished script from home that I had planned to touch up. Admittedly, the script is an amalgam of various arguments I've had with Lai Yee before. When I actually wrote it down, I had to dig deep down into my treasure chest of memories and sort of mix all the memories up and dramatize it a little.

Doing this exercise, I began reflect on my past attitudes. I begin to find parts of myself that I don't like. That perhaps I'm not as easy-going, patient, and nice as I thought myself to be. Maybe I'm passively a pompous ass. Maybe I've had too much Milo lately and am a little sleepy. Good thing I don't snore that badly.

Starving a Sunday Afternoon Fever

Whoof! Yesterday was a really packed day. After church celebration, I went out for lunch with Jeanine and Alena. And hot diggity, was it filling. Y'know that Segambut Seafood restaurant at Chow Yang? Never ever order the large portions there unless you were planning to commit suicide in the first place. I had ordered a small bowl of curry beehoon to go with the seafood, and I swear, if you just ate to seafood alone without the noodles, you'd be full enough. Man, I was SO up to my eyeballs in seafood. I couldn't eat much later that evening, even when presented with Auntie Eng Lee's Cheesy Potato Pie!! Makes a grown man wanna cry.

Sunday Afternoon Fever
It's the 70's, where disco's are hot, afro's are cool, and if you haven't got down and jiggy with it... then at least you've got your butt clinging polyester pants. And the 2001 disco club, things get hot on Saturday nights, so hot you'd swear that you're having a fever, a SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER!!!

Well, that's my lame attempt at spicing things up a little. I you haven't guessed it, me and some friends went out to Istana Budaya, which I think means Cultural Palace, yesterday afternoon to watch Saturday Night Fever. I must say that while I'm not a big fan of the 70's period and mostly anything that is associated with it, except the BeeGee's, I still got pretty involved in it. The dance steps were fantastical, the New York Brooklyn accent entertaining, the songs beautiful and the characters endearing. The only complaint about it is that I couldn't hear the lyrics of the songs on occasion, and the seat. I swear that my back had cracked in several areas in multiple occasions during the show. Other than that, you've got to watch it if you haven't already.

Everyday Posts?

So far I've been posting my thoughts pretty much everyday. But today, I won't be doing so. My brain's occupied with some trite thoughts right now, so I'll leave you all with this to consider... The Meatrix.

Memory Firsts

There's been some very minor improvements implemented into my blogsite, and you may not have noticed, so I'm telling you that there is some improvements.

Well, since I've been tasked with writing about my first memory, a memory all the way back into the past that I can barely remember it, and even if I do, it's probably contaminated memory... I might as well start writing all about it right here.

First of First Memories
First thing that comes to mind was a time when I was watching my brother and sister play with some steel ball bearings, during my pre-kindergarden days. Who knows how they came upon them, but nonetheless they were playing with them quite ecstatically, as if they were marbles. And there I was watching off the side, watching their game of marbles with steel ball bearings. Being a child, anything that was round was immediately fascinating, and if it was shiny, it was absolutely captivating. So I watched my siblings playing with the ball bearings, all the while enraptured by its beauty. Then I thought to myself, "These things would look great in one of my toys."

The toy to which I was refering to was nothing more than a board with a rectangle cavity in it with two turrets on opposite ends. The turrets would launch balls in the bid to destroy the targets belonging to the opposing turret. Incidentally, these ball bearings that I was observing had about the same size of the balls that this game requires.

So, without regard and consent from my siblings, I grabbed a handful of these ball bearings without consent, ran away and stuffed them into this board of my and started to play it. Now, you're probably asking, "Wouldn't your siblings have had come down right after you after that and have a few words with you?" My answer to that is: Oh yes, they did. And boy DID they have some 'words' for me. Packaged with extra volume and smacking.

All the commotion served to alert my Mom that something had happened, and she reacted in the usual manner with us, dictatorially and ruthlessly. Any dispute that occured in the house, particularly among the siblings, in which nobody's innocence could be ascertained, immediately earned every child a caning, even the ones that had nothing to do with the dispute, every so often would my sister remind me of, cause often I was the reason for the commotion.

Mind you, we were all very young, I was about 3-4 years young, and my sister and brother was 3 and 5 years older than me respectively, so I reckon it was normal for us to do weird stuff and fight. And all that indescriminate caning from Mom? Well, we turned out all right... It's the rest of the world that's weird.

Second of First Memories
When I had my first asthma attack, I wasn't conscious. Imagine, falling asleep, curled up in your bed, dreaming sweet dreams, in the fotress that was my blanket, under the pillars that made my brother's bed suspend above me, and all the cares of the world left behind the walls of the eyelids, and not knowing how to whistle.

Then, an awakening. The world had become white. The walls, the ceiling, the lights, the bed, the blanket... it had all become white. And I could whistle. Isn't that odd, to awaken from your deep slumber, and find that you can whistle. But there was more than that... I wasn't actually trying to whistle. And the sound was coming from my throat, not my lips. It seemed nice to be able to whistle, but whistling was difficult, and I was having a hard time breathing. I didn't want to whistle anymore. I had desired to be able to whistle before, but now I didn't want to. I had tried to stop, tried so hard I did. But I couldn't. Then before I could start to panic, Mom loomed over me. Relief set in me, cause Mom always had the all answers... Mom could do anything. I relaxed as much as I could and mustering up all the courage within me, compelled within not to show any fear, asked, "Why am I not in my room? Where am I?"

She then told me I had an asthma attack.

Mom and Dad from the room heard a wheezing,
from their youngest of three gone asleeping,
Picked me up they did while I slumber,
Moved me and drove me did they wonder,
What have you picked up while conscious asunder?
That sends us both chills down our spines all over.

At the hospital stop they did with a skid,
Observe and diagnose me the doctors did,
Find out they did, the disease I had,
'Asthma,' they said, 'and it's kind of bad'

For days I stayed in the hospital, and I remember moment of time where I threw up after mashed potatoes. From then on I was on porridge, much to my dissappointment. But since then, I had found the play room, which was much fun and had toys aplenty. So my stay in the hospital had not been so bad.

A day of writing in my head

Just another day in the office. Well, not really. Dad bought lunch for Mum, himself and I from a shop downstairs from where he and I work, and we brought it home (which is 15 minutes walk from where I stay) to eat, just so we could see the new furniture that Mum and Dad that was delivered today. I must say that the silver screen hall looks much better, and the new seats attaches to the bum quite well, so no more slipping into a slouch while watching films anymore.

Yesterday was pretty interesting. I had attended my first script writing class held by The Actor's Studio, for which I was late for, unfortunately, cause I neglected to read the full address of the classroom that I was suppose to be in, which was in Plaza Damas. Imagine going to a class you know is in Bangsar, but you don't have the street and shop number. Luckily, the organiser was kind enough to call me after i was half an hour late to ask about my whereabouts.

The people that came for this class were few, but of varying backgrounds. One of them, I found out much much later(which was today) to my embarassment, was Faridah Merican, Executive Producer of The Actor's Studio and founder of its Malaysian arm. She hadn't introduced herself as such, so later when we were out doing field work, which involved going out of class to observing people and make a story about it, I was asking her questions that everybody else seemed to know the answers to. GAH!! I'M AN IGNORAMUS!!

Anyways, enough lamenting. The class was mostly about the art and history of theatre; the Greeks whom had started what we call theatre today treated it as a not so much as entertainment than as a religion. From there, fast forward to a time before Shakespeare; it was entertainment. And by Shakespeare's time; provocative.

The art of theatre was simply described as an occurance within empty space defined as a stage. It could involve a man walking right by that space, and it would be called theatre.

Modern Day Composition

Just a thought that came into mind a couple of days back which I had meant to commit it to writing but haven't done up 'till now.

Y'know, I remember when I was in primary school, the class would be stuck with a pen and a piece a of paper trying to compose 150 word essays within the hour. It was all smudges from cheap , and tears, and cross-outs. But I got along with the 'pen system' just fine and made less mistakes over time, and I could produce beautiful works of composition.

Time machine yourself to the future. I'm my word power has seemingly decreased, I'm unable to finish my sentences that issues forth from my mouth, and I blabber nonsense more than ever, and I can't find the right word at the right time. What happened? Have I grown up? Am I getting so old that I'm starting to lose brain cells faster than it can be replenished?

Up until recently, I had thought I was going nuts. I struggled to repair the damage to my communication skills and vocabulary via reading books medieval and mystical in nature; fantasy books if you will. I wrote down every word that I didn't know and looked it up in the dictionary, and logged it down on my iBook. Eventually, I had managed to bring my vocabulary up to scratch. So, no, my brain cells weren't dying at an accelerated pace. But it still doesn't answer the question... What happened? Why did I lose my ability to communicate clearly and concisely?

I came across the answer when I was composing a letter for my girlfriend(not a letter to her, but a letter to someone else for her) with my sister. The going was tough, and there were cross-outs across the whole sheet of paper on which we were working on. We couldn't get one line on the letter right. Sentences were all hopelessly mixed up and incomprehensible when read as a paragraph. Then it dawned on me... was my ability to communicate and write affected by the availability of Microsoft Word?

Lets revisit my past for the answers. Time to step back into that time machine again and take a trip back to Nostalgia Lane. When I was in Melbourne Uni, I pretty much threw away the pen and paper in favor of Microsoft Word when it came to composition. The ability to 'cut and paste' enraptured me, and I could easily make corrections to my mistakes. I had made minimal effort in essay preparation pre-composition, thinking that I could just up and go at it, and cut and paste it later if it didn't fit right. And I also became highly dependent on the thesaurus as a quick solution to my version of writers block. So yes, I think that my ability to communicate was adversely affected by modern technology meant to increase productivity.

Just to cap it off, if I could be so easily adversely affected by Microsoft Word, should I stop using it? Or should I simply be more careful when I use it? Being in the age where using a word processing program is almost essential to my work life, I think that the first solution is simply inapplicable. So, for me, its time to go back to the basics and regrow those old roots that I had for writing. Time to go back to using planned skeletons and foundations for every composition that I write or type.

Another thing that begs an answer: Why do women like talking to men while they're in the toilet?

Velcome, velcome

Ya, velcome to the first posting of my blog. After being inspired to blog by a lass that goes by the name of Jolene, I have, in fact, started my own blog, as you can see, can you not? Of course you can.

Perhaps by doing this I can stir my mind up as well as crystallize my thoughts that have been up until now been rather, how shall I put it... intangible. Of course by nature thoughts are intangible, but these are the intangibles of the intangibles and hence cannot be fully grasped simply because they are intangible. But by writing these thoughts down, I can at least, peruse them and make use of the little insights that go through my little head.

Just yesterday I got a call from my tutor, who told me to prepare for my script-writing class in the form of an essay 3-5 paragraphs long, describing the type of script that I have in mind, and to hand it in by 3pm today. If you have paid any attention to the time stamp, you'd know I've already passed this deadline. Mind you this doesn't mean that I didn't finish my work, I'm just stating that the time of 3pm has already passed. Anyways, before that I had felt a little queasy and wondered what the heck I was doing signing up for this class. Now I'm feeling a little excited about the class which starts at 6:30pm. Hope all goes well.