facebooked

I am facebooking. I facebook everyday. I facebooked last night. I've been facebooked.

He/She is facebooking. He/She facebooks everyday. He/She facebooked last night. He/She has been facebooked

They/You are facebooking. They facebook everyday. They facebooked last night. They/You have been facebooked.

Some collected quotes from Afiq Fikri Azmi.

"Aku taknak la bukak facebook, takut addicted."

"Facebook? I'm not going to jump on the bandwagon."

"Is that a friendster wannabe?"

Yeah yeah. You've got all the right to call me a sell out for surrendering my soul to the opium of the people, facebook.

I just need to connect to long lost friends. Some who i haven't met for years and years.

I've been warned by Kamal (single according to his facebook status..bwahaha) of the times i might waste on facebook. Thanks for the advice.

But i don't think i will be answering quizzes or playing games. For once, i don't like computer games. I think i will be busy replying comments. That's all.

And i plan to switch off all the email notifications so that i won't be too busy checking this and that. Except for birthday notifications.

But this blog is my abode. My sanctuary. There's no way i'm going to abandon this blog. Here's a big hug and kiss to this blog XOXOXOXOX. Whatever that is.

There are many things i plan to write about. Particularly about Malaysia. About spots in KL. About Central Market. Of Lorong Haji Taib. Kampung Baru. These cult images of KL. Right after my practicals i'll be staying in KL for some time. Maybe i'll write poetry of those places if my muses arrive. You know, something like Paris je'taime in written form. Maybe i'll pick up a decent camera to enhance the experience of reading with a visual accompaniment. Or maybe i'll hag my sister's camera and learn to edit pictures. So if you see me wandering off in KL, say hi and give me a treat at a mamak restaurant.

But before that, I need to read. I'm going to read lotsa stuff after my exams. I've been surprisingly lucky with my exams. Alhamdulillah.

I would like to thank my sponsors, Sayani-the energy booster and Sport Kanal-official live football provider for room 92.

Death and its glorification

And so the King of Pop is dead.

He was about to kick start his world tour, touted to gross about $50 million bucks for Jacko. When fate intervenes, you have no answer. When death arrives, there is no more asking for another day.

And Utusan Malaysia's terkini section is filled with the latest news of his death. One by one. Quotes, latest developments, mourning of fans and peers alike.

Probably they're gonna make a special edition newspaper or a 16 page spread about MJ.

Of course, the death of Syd Barrett, Joey and Johnny Ramone won't be that sensational because they were peripherals playing in some lesser known bands. And their deaths were of natural causes-cancer.

When Kurt Cobain decided to kick the bucket, that was sensational since he suicided himself.

And thus, he was glorified like a prophet in the media. Like a matyr. He was placed in the top 10 amongst the most skilled guitarists of all time although he had moderate guitar skills.

But did they highlight some other heroes of our time? The real ones.

Fathi Yakan, author of some great books passed away on the 13th of June. I just found that out. Did Utusan put it up? I missed it maybe.

"It's death whether by killing or by cancer; it's the same thing. Nothing will change if it's an Apache (helicopter) or cardiac arrest. But I prefer to be killed by Apache."

In the end, Dr. Abdel Aziz al-Rantissi got what he wished for. He was killed by an apache.

They don't ask or wish to be glorified. But these men have done more than meets the eye. But have their contributions been justified? Are there articles on mainstream media?

Sometimes you need to put more perspective with things that happen around you. I need to do it too. Because i'm too much attached to my rock and roll roots and i'd be more interested in the news of the death of some rock stars.

I'm sleepy. Need to go to mosque. Then off to my seniors' graduation.

So 90s : mIRC chatting

It became clear that the world was minimizing into the size of the thumb by the end of the 20^th century. Yes, the mundane life that we were accustomed to was about to change, although the arrival was a little late to the shores of Malaysia.

And RTM kept on playing that IT song over and over again. It was a good idea but it was oh-so-uninspiring to say the least.

The world of communications transformed itself into a borderless version of connectivity across the universe. Because I personally believe we are the only living beings and the whole idea of alien worshipping just doesn’t apply to me.

The advent of chatting, particularly, changed and challenged the whole concept of what socialization is all about.

Back in the 90’s and the early millennia, mIRC was the in thing back then. It still does exist but messengers are the in thing lately.

A/S/L was the intro to everything. Age. Sex. Location. With one simple inquiry it could spark off a conversation, start relationships, foster friendship, so on and so forth.

SgtWeener: Yo. Asl

Guest2435: 16/m/us.u?

SgtWeener: 15/m/Malaysia.

Guest2435: Malaysia? Wer izzit? Do u hav intrnet over der?

It was where I started to speak to people from the States and Australia to improve my English. We chatted particularly about music those days because I hanged out in chat music chat rooms.

It had quite a good peer to peer connection in which you could download songs or videos from other users.

And I just found out that you could even chat while facebooking. I think facebook has taken the formula of the inventions of handphones. It used to be simple, now cellphones are multifunctional. It’s like an amusement park. You’ve got a camera, internet connection, games and a lot more. Facebook has quizzes, you could leave comments, post videos and chatting. So basically, you only need to log on to facebook for anything.

Last night, I had a dream in which I had a facebook account. It was semi-scary in a way.

Me and a few genius friends even had a social study on the impact of chatting in my secondary school days. That was a bit funny. We took a 360 turn after our first project, (something about producing an alternative for petroleum from the remains of processed palm) backfired. But we had the coolest team name. Fungus amongus.

So chatting has deluded me of the fact that we actually need to talk in reality, not type.

I think there are pieces of bipolarity in me. In a face to face chat, I think I’m just a bit over concerned with my appearance (Why is this bloke so untidy? He needs to shave. His hairstyle is way off the mark!). And my perhaps my voice. (Too husky. Too sexy. Too angelic). So I tend to be a little bit silent compared to cyberspace chatting.

Chatting just strips the aesthetics of my over concerned appearance and I could just go on rambling about anything and I could just chat about everything. And I could just focus solely on chatting without anything else.

Maybe it’s time for me to really focus on talking since my future profession involves talking most of the time. Talk to patients. Explain this and that so that they would understand. Report to senior doctors and everything else.

Maybe I should go video blogging to practice my talking and story telling abilities. It would be good to doze people off.

Ok. Need to read my Sherlock Holmes collection on my iPhone.

PS : We have entered the month of Rejab. The most significant event in history of this month is the Israk and Mikraj, of which our Prophet ascended to the heavens and met Allah. Some say it was a spiritual journey, but most scholars would agree that it was a physical journey. Of course, we have to ponder what could have been. We could have been asked to pray 50 times per day but in the end we have been given a large discount by Allah and henceforth, we are only obliged to pray 5 times a day.

Clothes.

There are some people on the 6th floor collecting shirts and stuffs for the homeless and orphans. It was not a charitable act, but i was in the mood to clear off my wardrobe, especially since i've grown..ehem..a bit muscular for the past few years which in turn, disabled me from wearing some shirts.And it turned out there were many shirts which were worn sparingly or have been there as artifacts in my cupboard. So i proceeded to just give them away.

This is one of my Nike t-shirts which is still in good condition but a bit too tight for me. I used to wear when i was super slim. PPIM/UMNO had a good programme in which they collected clothes and sold them at a carboot like sale and used the profits to manage their activities. I don't think anyone would want to buy my t-shirts so i decided not to sell them.

And this, i have to say is one of my all time favourite t-shirts bought at Pertama Complex. I like to go there just to find some good rocking t-shirts. Plus, there's a big Reject Shop there and the F.O.S. at Maju Junction right next to Pertama. I basically do my shopping at that F.O.S. outlet since it's not packed and i could just spend a lot of time looking for a decent shirt at a decent price. It's basically still in good condition, but i've got loads more shirts. Thanks for the service. You've tasted my sweat more than any other t-shirts for the past 5 years.

And i found this track suit, purple in colour while i was ransacking my wardrobe. It's my mum's track suit and she gave it to me because i forgot to buy one. Now it's torn somewhere in the middle and the ankle zip area. I can't believe i played the football tourney in this pair of tracksuit. Now it seems i would shy away from wearing a purple coloured track suit.

Minimalist you, minimalist me.

My roommates are having an exam right now. I had it yesterday. And so yesterday they asked me,

"Could you cook nasi ayam for us, we are having an exam tomorrow."

I said OK, I said fine. And I cooked. And I just finished the last piece of the leftover chicken for breakfast. With a bottle of sayani and a bowl of soup.

I'm not expecting anything from them in return, but they asked me anyway.

"So what do you want us to cook for you on Thursday." (Surgery is on Friday)

"Fried eggs. With any kind of gravy, as long as it's red."

And they choked on that idea.

I know i'm such a boring dude when it comes to food. I could go on eating the same stuff over and over again.

But is asking for telor goreng masak merah too much?

Russian treasures : Sayani

The army of molotov cocktails.

A bottle bearing a picture of father deer and daughter doe won't be harmful, would it?

Sayani : The thirst quencher.

And the boiling heat of summer continues, while we patiently wait for the first downpour of rain.

And we guzzle this fizzy drink down our throats to quench our thirst. This bottled drink is similar to any soft drinks out there, but it's local. It tastes something like mountain dew and it contains no alcohol. Now that we don't drink Coke that often, this is the alternative.

The bottles evoke the images of Molotov cocktails, named after the Foreign Affairs' Minister of the Soviet Union during the WWII, Vyacheslav Molotov.

During the attacks of Russia on Finland, they dropped bombs containing smaller clusters of explosives in them. However, the quirky Mr. Molotov made an announcement, claiming that they were dropping food instead of explosives from the air to the Finns.

Of course that was a big lie, and so they christened the bombing as the "Molotov Bread Breakfast", with an explosive menu.

The Finns responded by attacking the tanks that were invading Finland with these home-made explosives made out of bottles containing petrol or other inflammable liquids and a cloth jammed at the end to ignite it.

And they named it "Molotov Cocktails", as a drink to go with the food.

That, for you, is the linguistics of war.

Ok. I want to finish my bottle of Sayani for breakfast.

Father's Day

Growing up fatherless, there are only vague and hazy images of how me dad was. Not his appearance, as I have countless of pictures of him. He remains the only guy who looks much more handsome than what i could possibly be. But memories of him are practically non existent. He passed away when I was barely a year and a few months old and all I have are just verbal whispers about me dad.

One of the items left at home is a season pass to the Kedah football stadium, as he was the physio for the team. Hence, as if genetically inscribed in my DNA, I do harbour the intentions of one day becoming the physio of the team. At least I could get free entrance to watch football games at the legendary football stadium. And who knows I might end up coaching? Hey, Jose Mourinho started off as a translator for Bobby Robson. You've got to start somewhere.

It's funny how people would rub me head when I was younger. Later on, I discovered that it was sort of a custom to perform such gesture to orphans.

Before I came to Russia, a doctor who conducted one of the check ups happened to be his friend. And so he told me, that usually, he and some other friends would take the ride together with me dad to get back to Alor Star from Sik (a couple of hours' journey) on me dad's Honda Accord, but on that fateful day, they had some other things to do and me dad drove back alone. The news of the accident came out in the newspaper and some of my friends' parents at primary school knew about it when i mentioned it to them.

And as a result, I never had the chance to feel the warmth of a father's hug or the satisfaction of a daddy's praise. But it's not that I'm complaining too much. Content is a virtue.

There are unluckier children who are born bastards. Not in a derogatory sense. Some not even knowing or will never even find out who their parents are, which is far more extreme than what I experienced. While there are others who were brought up in broken homes, witnessing the progress of bitter divorces of their parents.

I've been been compensated with the greatest woman who brought me up, the bionic woman, me Mama. Such a lucky guy, I am.

Now that I am thickened with maturity (I think so), I understand that it's something called fate. The river of life has taken its due course. My life could have taken a different route if me dad was still here.

Butterfly effect, ya dig it?

I bet all dads out there give their best efforts for their families, to get some food on the plates although they might not be as cool as you want them to be, or they might not spend so much time with you. So treasure your dads, give your old man a big hug or share a joke.

Happy father's day.

PS : Headache o headache, please go away.