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22 hours ago
Now when i feel down i think of Nick Vujicic and be thankful for whatever i have.
God's miracles are unlimited. And his ability to keep on living and be happy and content is just wonderful.
It gives a good motivation for life.
Now my holidays have officially started, meaning i've got nothing much important on my calender, except for a few meetings with friends, old acquaintances.
Will probably read a few novels and to study them thoroughly to understand the dynamics of their writings and creativity.
Like i always say, "you've got to start somewhere". The oft-repeated phrase of mine.
A dose of Mikhail Bulgakov. Few tablespoons of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson. Dozens of Don DeLillo. A pinch of Chuck Palahniuk. Kurt Vonnegut. Maybe a few drops of Murakami.
Dan mungkin, jika berkesempatan, "Tenggelamnya Kapal van Der Wijck" oleh HAMKA.
I really enjoyed Haruki Murakami's short story, "On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning."
I will be guided by "how to write and speak better" by Reader's Digest.
And i'm trying to learn Arabic slowly. It's chronically slower than a tortoise with 2 fractured legs.
[Insert my favourite quote here]
Thought of going to Kelantan, but as usual, time is of the essence here, and in this moment, time is envious of me.
Now. Hopefully i will fare better with my self working hours. More discipline.
I used to be associated with that word. But i would love to be associated with much more meaningul words.
Like, "handsome". Or "Good looking".
Ok now. Start.
Will probably read a few novels and to study them thoroughly to understand the dynamics of their writings and creativity.
Like i always say, "you've got to start somewhere". The oft-repeated phrase of mine.
A dose of Mikhail Bulgakov. Few tablespoons of Dr. Hunter S. Thompson. Dozens of Don DeLillo. A pinch of Chuck Palahniuk. Kurt Vonnegut. Maybe a few drops of Murakami.
Dan mungkin, jika berkesempatan, "Tenggelamnya Kapal van Der Wijck" oleh HAMKA.
I really enjoyed Haruki Murakami's short story, "On seeing the 100% perfect girl one beautiful April morning."
I will be guided by "how to write and speak better" by Reader's Digest.
And i'm trying to learn Arabic slowly. It's chronically slower than a tortoise with 2 fractured legs.
[Insert my favourite quote here]
Thought of going to Kelantan, but as usual, time is of the essence here, and in this moment, time is envious of me.
Now. Hopefully i will fare better with my self working hours. More discipline.
I used to be associated with that word. But i would love to be associated with much more meaningul words.
Like, "handsome". Or "Good looking".
Ok now. Start.
And so there i was, with a mosquito repellent in my room by the side of my bed and a source of pendaflour light above my head. Another night, another repellent burns. The exquisite smell expelled reminded me of ancient times, an ancient remedy to ward off ghosts, who were actually mosquitoes siphoning blood out of human veins, and flying off drunk.
The repellent gave quite a stingy taste to the nose, but i am used to smoke, as i was a passive smoker in a previous life.
The hut i was living in was asthenic in nature, like a frail, thin man showing off his skeletal anatomy. The exoskeleton of the house bore naked, the basis of which looked pretty fragile to any storm. The house could have probably flown to Pattaya if a heavy storm was to hit Perlis. And the veins and nerves were visible in the form of electrical wiring and piping seen across the house.
I hung my shirts, pants, towel and t-shirts on the nails implanted to the walls of the room.
To the corners of the cochlear, the sound transmitted was a mixture of chitchats from the TV set, frogs croaking and ribbitting(ribbit.ribbit), geeses quacking, buzzes of flaps from a mosquito, lizards strutting their own sounds and all that jazz. Minus the TV set, it would have been a symphony of nature, an orchestra of some sort. Maybe jazz, Coltrane, Miles Davis but not Kenny G.
On the second night i met a spider who was as big as a racoon, baby racoon. Being arachnophobic, i almost panicked but kept cool and as i was reading the last few chapters of Reza Aslan's No God but God, i remembered of the chpater al-Ankabut from the Quran, which means 'The Spider'.
29 : 41 The likeness of those who take (false deities as) Auliya' (protectors, helpers) other than Allah is the likeness of a spider who builds (for itself) a house; but verily, the frailest (weakest) of houses is the spider's house - if they but knew.
I stood there and watched as the spider clumsily wandered off in between the wooden walls.
I was there for my practicals and in 12 months time, God willingly, insya Allah i will be starting work. There's still this love/hate relationship that i have with the profession that deals with life/death. I love to help save the day and make people's lives much happier by helping them to gain better health, but at the same time i'm scared of the possibilities of being responsible for one's death.
10 : 56 It is He Who gives life, and causes death, and to Him you (all) shall return.
And there in the hospital, i saw my first ever death in front of my very eyes. The patient should have been defibrillated but due to his wife's decision not to allow the procedure as it would 'hurt the soul/body,' of his husband, all the doctors were able to do was to resuscitate him to death. And so, the tears started flowing like a monsooned river coming down from a cliff. Well, not really.
But i was asking myself, IF i was in that position, should i go on defibrillating without the wife's consent and tell her, "it's my job" or just let it all go that way. Let fate decide. I am still pondering the borders between fate, mistakes and choices that we make. You could easily say it was fate, but at times you might start to think it was your mistakes that led to the consequences.
The greatest skill to obtain is to brush aside the dejection of death. That sheer downward spiral especially if it was due to your mistakes. I wonder whether i could handle it.
46 : 15 And We have enjoined on man to be dutiful and kind to his parents. His mother bears him with hardship. And she brings him forth with hardship, and the bearing of him...
Besides that, i witnessed the miracle of birth. No wonder the dignity of a mother is 3 times more than a father, according to the Prophet. Childbirth is a strenuous and painful process, one of the things i would never experience unless i decide to have a full blown sex changing operation in the future. But then again, i saw an intrauterine death with macerated skin, the skin peeling off and exposing some flesh of the insides and a miscarriage of about 21 weeks.
There's still a long way to go in life and i'm at the starting point and raring to go. But some things have opened my eyes and made me realize how lucky i am, again and again..
And as the final dusts of the repellent settle down, i finally left Perlis with a hatful of memories to treasure.
PS : Rainy season's here in Alor Setar.. 2 : 164 Verily! In the creation of the heavens and the earth, and in the alternation of night and day, and the ships which sail through the sea with that which is of use to mankind, and the water (rain) which Allah sends down from the sky and makes the earth alive therewith after its death, and the moving (living) creatures of all kinds that He has scattered therein, and in the veering of winds and clouds which are held between the sky and the earth, are indeed Ayat (proofs, evidence, signs, etc.) for people of understanding.
The repellent gave quite a stingy taste to the nose, but i am used to smoke, as i was a passive smoker in a previous life.
The hut i was living in was asthenic in nature, like a frail, thin man showing off his skeletal anatomy. The exoskeleton of the house bore naked, the basis of which looked pretty fragile to any storm. The house could have probably flown to Pattaya if a heavy storm was to hit Perlis. And the veins and nerves were visible in the form of electrical wiring and piping seen across the house.
I hung my shirts, pants, towel and t-shirts on the nails implanted to the walls of the room.
To the corners of the cochlear, the sound transmitted was a mixture of chitchats from the TV set, frogs croaking and ribbitting(ribbit.ribbit), geeses quacking, buzzes of flaps from a mosquito, lizards strutting their own sounds and all that jazz. Minus the TV set, it would have been a symphony of nature, an orchestra of some sort. Maybe jazz, Coltrane, Miles Davis but not Kenny G.
On the second night i met a spider who was as big as a racoon, baby racoon. Being arachnophobic, i almost panicked but kept cool and as i was reading the last few chapters of Reza Aslan's No God but God, i remembered of the chpater al-Ankabut from the Quran, which means 'The Spider'.
29 : 41 The likeness of those who take (false deities as) Auliya' (protectors, helpers) other than Allah is the likeness of a spider who builds (for itself) a house; but verily, the frailest (weakest) of houses is the spider's house - if they but knew.
I stood there and watched as the spider clumsily wandered off in between the wooden walls.
I was there for my practicals and in 12 months time, God willingly, insya Allah i will be starting work. There's still this love/hate relationship that i have with the profession that deals with life/death. I love to help save the day and make people's lives much happier by helping them to gain better health, but at the same time i'm scared of the possibilities of being responsible for one's death.
10 : 56 It is He Who gives life, and causes death, and to Him you (all) shall return.
And there in the hospital, i saw my first ever death in front of my very eyes. The patient should have been defibrillated but due to his wife's decision not to allow the procedure as it would 'hurt the soul/body,' of his husband, all the doctors were able to do was to resuscitate him to death. And so, the tears started flowing like a monsooned river coming down from a cliff. Well, not really.
But i was asking myself, IF i was in that position, should i go on defibrillating without the wife's consent and tell her, "it's my job" or just let it all go that way. Let fate decide. I am still pondering the borders between fate, mistakes and choices that we make. You could easily say it was fate, but at times you might start to think it was your mistakes that led to the consequences.
The greatest skill to obtain is to brush aside the dejection of death. That sheer downward spiral especially if it was due to your mistakes. I wonder whether i could handle it.
46 : 15 And We have enjoined on man to be dutiful and kind to his parents. His mother bears him with hardship. And she brings him forth with hardship, and the bearing of him...
Besides that, i witnessed the miracle of birth. No wonder the dignity of a mother is 3 times more than a father, according to the Prophet. Childbirth is a strenuous and painful process, one of the things i would never experience unless i decide to have a full blown sex changing operation in the future. But then again, i saw an intrauterine death with macerated skin, the skin peeling off and exposing some flesh of the insides and a miscarriage of about 21 weeks.
There's still a long way to go in life and i'm at the starting point and raring to go. But some things have opened my eyes and made me realize how lucky i am, again and again..
And as the final dusts of the repellent settle down, i finally left Perlis with a hatful of memories to treasure.
PS : Rainy season's here in Alor Setar.. 2 : 164 Verily! In the creation of the heavens and the earth, and in the alternation of night and day, and the ships which sail through the sea with that which is of use to mankind, and the water (rain) which Allah sends down from the sky and makes the earth alive therewith after its death, and the moving (living) creatures of all kinds that He has scattered therein, and in the veering of winds and clouds which are held between the sky and the earth, are indeed Ayat (proofs, evidence, signs, etc.) for people of understanding.
The unforgiving heat of summer took its toll on me. There were patches of dark purple here and there on my shirt, a slightly darker than tone the shirt colour due to the excessive sweating i was undergoing. Yes. I run high on metabolism and am proud of it. Maybe i should have been born in Alaska, but that would be too cold. Then i thought of the knitted blanket supplied in our rented house.
"Just in case it snows in the sacred city of Kangar since the weather is extreme," a soliloquy that was rather imaginary.
My body, soiled of stench, with a pinch of salt odour.
A visit to the wi-fied Kangar Hospital library cured the heat off my body and i wandered through the pages of New Straits Times. 2 weeks ago, this was and i came to an article of the death of Marwa El-Sherbini.
Stabbed 18 times in a court trial by a German of Russian descent who had verbally abused her a year ago. The drama was complicated when the police who entered the frame, mistook her husband,who was trying to save her, as the assailant and fired few shots at him.
It's like a scene from a Hollywood production. Something predictable, something stereotype. Arabs are always the culprits. Muslims maybe.
Islamophobia is a grave problem which needs addressing since it is misunderstood by non Muslims generally.
It's the same thing going on even in football. The chants of "Mido's got a bomb," were directed to the Egyptian footballer while he was playing in St. James' Park in Newcastle. Maybe these were meaningless shouts and screams, but the underlying problem may be much deeper than what we think it is.
As Chandra Muzaffar mentioned in his article in the NST, there is some level of biased-ness and onesided-ness of media reports which tend to dominate headlines. And they are not friendly enough towards Islam and Muslims. Muslims will always be portrayed as terrorists, suicide bombers and everything else.
While journalism is one thing, the readers' point of view is the conclusion to it all. The superficiality of people these days have made it much more difficult to explain everything. Most people take the newspaper reports as the final say, and fail to dig slightly deeper to find out the history of a conflict involving Muslims.
But we should not view the media as an enemy. The recent bombings of Palestine at the beginning of the year were wildly protested even by non Muslims because they are getting bored and tired of the mainstream media and have read, watched or listened with full blown attention to the real sources of news. Now, some have accepted that the Zionist Israel nation is at fault for the on going conflict.
Racial hatred and religious bigotry have become staple in the society. Even by Muslims. How most of us would label all Jews as being Zionists, and some would look down upon others who have different school of thoughts, telling others that "we are right, you are wrong". All these are stereotypes, the same mechanism that categorized all Arabs and Muslims as being terrorists. If even our minds are controlled by these stereotypical labels, then we should not be complaining of their bigotry as this would be called as hypocrisy.
There were even some unfriendly remarks made towards Germans, which were unfair since he was a German of Russian Descent.
Then should we also consider Russians as evil or half evil?
We need to break free from these stereotypes.
At the end of the day, we should take a long look into the mirror and change ourselves for the better. By saying "you belong to hell, Muslims go to heaven", won't help a bit. We have to understand that the Prophet had said those words after he had preached about Islam to the inhabitants of Arabia. Only after they had denied Islam, then only revelations were sent down, with a much sterner warning of the punishment in the hereafter.
In other words, to mention such things to people who have zero or very limited information about Islam is like rubbing salt to the wound. Da'wah should be done in a more holistic approach involving our daily conducts and behaviours.
May Allah bless her soul.
"Just in case it snows in the sacred city of Kangar since the weather is extreme," a soliloquy that was rather imaginary.
My body, soiled of stench, with a pinch of salt odour.
A visit to the wi-fied Kangar Hospital library cured the heat off my body and i wandered through the pages of New Straits Times. 2 weeks ago, this was and i came to an article of the death of Marwa El-Sherbini.
Stabbed 18 times in a court trial by a German of Russian descent who had verbally abused her a year ago. The drama was complicated when the police who entered the frame, mistook her husband,who was trying to save her, as the assailant and fired few shots at him.
It's like a scene from a Hollywood production. Something predictable, something stereotype. Arabs are always the culprits. Muslims maybe.
Islamophobia is a grave problem which needs addressing since it is misunderstood by non Muslims generally.
It's the same thing going on even in football. The chants of "Mido's got a bomb," were directed to the Egyptian footballer while he was playing in St. James' Park in Newcastle. Maybe these were meaningless shouts and screams, but the underlying problem may be much deeper than what we think it is.
As Chandra Muzaffar mentioned in his article in the NST, there is some level of biased-ness and onesided-ness of media reports which tend to dominate headlines. And they are not friendly enough towards Islam and Muslims. Muslims will always be portrayed as terrorists, suicide bombers and everything else.
While journalism is one thing, the readers' point of view is the conclusion to it all. The superficiality of people these days have made it much more difficult to explain everything. Most people take the newspaper reports as the final say, and fail to dig slightly deeper to find out the history of a conflict involving Muslims.
But we should not view the media as an enemy. The recent bombings of Palestine at the beginning of the year were wildly protested even by non Muslims because they are getting bored and tired of the mainstream media and have read, watched or listened with full blown attention to the real sources of news. Now, some have accepted that the Zionist Israel nation is at fault for the on going conflict.
Racial hatred and religious bigotry have become staple in the society. Even by Muslims. How most of us would label all Jews as being Zionists, and some would look down upon others who have different school of thoughts, telling others that "we are right, you are wrong". All these are stereotypes, the same mechanism that categorized all Arabs and Muslims as being terrorists. If even our minds are controlled by these stereotypical labels, then we should not be complaining of their bigotry as this would be called as hypocrisy.
There were even some unfriendly remarks made towards Germans, which were unfair since he was a German of Russian Descent.
Then should we also consider Russians as evil or half evil?
We need to break free from these stereotypes.
At the end of the day, we should take a long look into the mirror and change ourselves for the better. By saying "you belong to hell, Muslims go to heaven", won't help a bit. We have to understand that the Prophet had said those words after he had preached about Islam to the inhabitants of Arabia. Only after they had denied Islam, then only revelations were sent down, with a much sterner warning of the punishment in the hereafter.
In other words, to mention such things to people who have zero or very limited information about Islam is like rubbing salt to the wound. Da'wah should be done in a more holistic approach involving our daily conducts and behaviours.
May Allah bless her soul.
I am closer to hell than to heaven. I've done my reality checks and seems that is the current conclusion i could make. Maybe you are too.
You see. I'm pretty direct with myself. I'm my life's biggest critic. Except i don't respond that much to my self criticisms.
Narrated AbuHurayrah: The Apostle of Allah (peace_be_upon_him) said: When Allah created Paradise, He said to Gabriel: Go and look at it. He went and looked at it, then came and said: O my Lord! By Thy might, no one who hears of it will fail to enter it. He then surrounded it with disagreeable things, and said: Go and look at it, Gabriel. He went and looked at it, then came and said: O my Lord! By Thy might, I am afraid that no one will enter it. When Allah created Hell, He said: Go and look at it, Gabriel. He went and looked at it, then came and said: O my Lord! By Thy might, no one who hears of it will enter it. He then surrounded it with desirable things and said: Go and look at it, Gabriel. He went, looked at it, then came and said: O my Lord! By Thy might and power, I am afraid that no one will remain who does not enter it.
I posed this question to my naqib when i was in an usrah.
"Could we use the motivation of heaven in order to become more pious?"
He answered "Yes", because it's hard to just worship Allah without a motivation.
I recalculated the question at intervals of my life, year after year. And i soon realized, "yeah, there might be truth in that."
But is heaven what we are really aiming for? Looking back through the pages of al-Quran, there are verses which describe to us of the environment of the heaven, example in al-Waqiah (The event, the inevitable).
Round about them shall go youths never altering in age, With goblets and ewers and a cup of pure drink; They shall not be affected with headache thereby, nor shall they get exhausted, And fruits such as they choose, And the flesh of fowl such as they desire. And pure, beautiful ones, The like of the hidden pearls: A reward for what they used to do. (verses 17-24)
Well, heaven, as some say, is unimaginable. But through these verses, we could partially imagine or conjure up an image.
But i asked myself, "am i worshipping Allah for heaven?". It's like i'm expecting something in return for a good deed.
Actually, i keep trying to find a pure heart. A heart that sees the world as Allah's creation. In the food i eat. The molecules of oxygen which i breath. For the great people around me.
That pure sincerity is hard to find. You could find tales of the Prophet, waking up in the early hours of morning to pray. For someone who was guaranteed heaven, what else woke him up, but the purity of humbleness towards The Creator.
But it works the other way around too, i guess. I am sure there was a reason on the description of paradise in the Quran. I asked a friend and he made a simple analogy. It's like when we were small and how our parents used to give us tokens if we are able to fast half a day or a full day. Later on in our lives, we do realize the importance and benefits of fasting.
So, probably we can't find that sincerity early on but for the motivation of heaven. But slowly, maybe our hearts will change for the better and worship Allah not because of his promises of paradise, but because of the life and the blessings He has given to us.
In other words, because there is No God but God. That's why we are worshipping Him.
14 : 34 And He gave you of all that you asked for, and if you count the Blessings of Allah, never will you be able to count them.....
You see. I'm pretty direct with myself. I'm my life's biggest critic. Except i don't respond that much to my self criticisms.
Narrated AbuHurayrah: The Apostle of Allah (peace_be_upon_him) said: When Allah created Paradise, He said to Gabriel: Go and look at it. He went and looked at it, then came and said: O my Lord! By Thy might, no one who hears of it will fail to enter it. He then surrounded it with disagreeable things, and said: Go and look at it, Gabriel. He went and looked at it, then came and said: O my Lord! By Thy might, I am afraid that no one will enter it. When Allah created Hell, He said: Go and look at it, Gabriel. He went and looked at it, then came and said: O my Lord! By Thy might, no one who hears of it will enter it. He then surrounded it with desirable things and said: Go and look at it, Gabriel. He went, looked at it, then came and said: O my Lord! By Thy might and power, I am afraid that no one will remain who does not enter it.
I posed this question to my naqib when i was in an usrah.
"Could we use the motivation of heaven in order to become more pious?"
He answered "Yes", because it's hard to just worship Allah without a motivation.
I recalculated the question at intervals of my life, year after year. And i soon realized, "yeah, there might be truth in that."
But is heaven what we are really aiming for? Looking back through the pages of al-Quran, there are verses which describe to us of the environment of the heaven, example in al-Waqiah (The event, the inevitable).
Round about them shall go youths never altering in age, With goblets and ewers and a cup of pure drink; They shall not be affected with headache thereby, nor shall they get exhausted, And fruits such as they choose, And the flesh of fowl such as they desire. And pure, beautiful ones, The like of the hidden pearls: A reward for what they used to do. (verses 17-24)
Well, heaven, as some say, is unimaginable. But through these verses, we could partially imagine or conjure up an image.
But i asked myself, "am i worshipping Allah for heaven?". It's like i'm expecting something in return for a good deed.
Actually, i keep trying to find a pure heart. A heart that sees the world as Allah's creation. In the food i eat. The molecules of oxygen which i breath. For the great people around me.
That pure sincerity is hard to find. You could find tales of the Prophet, waking up in the early hours of morning to pray. For someone who was guaranteed heaven, what else woke him up, but the purity of humbleness towards The Creator.
But it works the other way around too, i guess. I am sure there was a reason on the description of paradise in the Quran. I asked a friend and he made a simple analogy. It's like when we were small and how our parents used to give us tokens if we are able to fast half a day or a full day. Later on in our lives, we do realize the importance and benefits of fasting.
So, probably we can't find that sincerity early on but for the motivation of heaven. But slowly, maybe our hearts will change for the better and worship Allah not because of his promises of paradise, but because of the life and the blessings He has given to us.
In other words, because there is No God but God. That's why we are worshipping Him.
14 : 34 And He gave you of all that you asked for, and if you count the Blessings of Allah, never will you be able to count them.....
The title, may just be a little bit confusing to you since it's similar to a movie screening at the cinemas in your neighbourhood. But this is not a story of giant robots transformering into vehicles, nor is it a story about transformering myself into an angelic version of a human being.
Yesterday, my mama sms-ed me telling me that we could get a transformers figure, an optimus prime perhaps for a cheaper price at a petronas petrol station if we fill the car with RM30 worth of oil or above.
And so, i remembered a tale of a boy, a plump boy who thought the world was all about toys. A pampered boy that he was, he had a multitude of toys in his possession, a true obsession on his part.
One day, a chocolate drink made an offer he wasn't able to refuse. A gift of a robot for the purchase of the largest tin can of chocolate powder. A staunch fan of Milo, he was crossing over to the rival brand Vico just this once time, for the sake of some infamous robots. Oh how poisoned he was by the commercials in between those cartoon shows!
And so, the family bought a large tin, and as promised, he got himself a robot toy as a gift. After some time spent on assembling the purple-white robot, and liking the plastic figure in front of him, he wanted more. Possessed by the spirit of that toy, an idea of collecting all 3 robot models that were at stake appeared. And all of them were gifts, so there was no way he could have asked his mummy to buy them.
He pondered. He thought. He spent hours for ideas to conjure up. He needed to think fast since the offer was going to expire soon enough. He can't possibly finish them all too quick. Besides, Vico tasted less tasty than Milo. That's a fact. He can't throw the tin away, for there might me an odour of foul play ringing in the air. To bribe his grandmother to keep a secret would not only be a sin, but the plan itself would come to ruins if his grandma decided to tell his mother.
He needed help. He needed a companion in crime who couldn't talk. A silent partner. And after looking around the house, he finally found out that the sink and the drainage PVC pipes were not able to produce even a whisper of voice.
"Hey you Mr. Sinky. Could you help me keep a secret." A silent answer meant 'yes'.
The boy, with punkish traits of his, decided to feed the sink with spoons of chocolate powder and ran the water down in order for the tin to be emptied at a quicker rate. He acted as cool as ice, and whenever her grandma smelled something mischievious going on, he would greet his grandma to quell off the thoughts of foul play in her mind.
"Yo granny, wassup? I'm 'cleaning' the kitchen for you."
While there he was, greedily feeding the sink without any feeling of wrongdoings! After some time, the large tin was almost empty.
Without any hesitation, he asked his mum to buy Vico, a large one too. His plan, was almost close to perfection and his brain was smiling from ear to ear, thinking that he was a genius. But his face remained calm, his hidden agendas were protected by his chubby and innocent appearance.
But her mum knew too much. The pipes were somehow clogged up due to some unknown reasons. Baffled by the situation, her mum called for a plumber and after some diagnostics, the plumber concured that the pipes were clogged at the proximal part, the ones that were close to the sink.
And after some intriguing FBI like investigations, the boy finally gave in and admitted his crime to his mother.
"No more vico for you."
Her mum managed to save some RM from buying a large tin of Vico, while the boy sat quietly in his room, pondering what could have been a second robot gift from Vico. He thought that powder would be dissolved by water, but he was wrong. Maybe he was right, but maybe he fed the sink too fast, thus not allowing the powder to dissolve. But after the incident, he had grown all matured and decided to abandon his life with toys.
And the rest, as they say, is history. And he lived happily ever after.
PS : And now, i need to transform myself into a book reading form.
Yesterday, my mama sms-ed me telling me that we could get a transformers figure, an optimus prime perhaps for a cheaper price at a petronas petrol station if we fill the car with RM30 worth of oil or above.
And so, i remembered a tale of a boy, a plump boy who thought the world was all about toys. A pampered boy that he was, he had a multitude of toys in his possession, a true obsession on his part.
One day, a chocolate drink made an offer he wasn't able to refuse. A gift of a robot for the purchase of the largest tin can of chocolate powder. A staunch fan of Milo, he was crossing over to the rival brand Vico just this once time, for the sake of some infamous robots. Oh how poisoned he was by the commercials in between those cartoon shows!
And so, the family bought a large tin, and as promised, he got himself a robot toy as a gift. After some time spent on assembling the purple-white robot, and liking the plastic figure in front of him, he wanted more. Possessed by the spirit of that toy, an idea of collecting all 3 robot models that were at stake appeared. And all of them were gifts, so there was no way he could have asked his mummy to buy them.
He pondered. He thought. He spent hours for ideas to conjure up. He needed to think fast since the offer was going to expire soon enough. He can't possibly finish them all too quick. Besides, Vico tasted less tasty than Milo. That's a fact. He can't throw the tin away, for there might me an odour of foul play ringing in the air. To bribe his grandmother to keep a secret would not only be a sin, but the plan itself would come to ruins if his grandma decided to tell his mother.
He needed help. He needed a companion in crime who couldn't talk. A silent partner. And after looking around the house, he finally found out that the sink and the drainage PVC pipes were not able to produce even a whisper of voice.
"Hey you Mr. Sinky. Could you help me keep a secret." A silent answer meant 'yes'.
The boy, with punkish traits of his, decided to feed the sink with spoons of chocolate powder and ran the water down in order for the tin to be emptied at a quicker rate. He acted as cool as ice, and whenever her grandma smelled something mischievious going on, he would greet his grandma to quell off the thoughts of foul play in her mind.
"Yo granny, wassup? I'm 'cleaning' the kitchen for you."
While there he was, greedily feeding the sink without any feeling of wrongdoings! After some time, the large tin was almost empty.
Without any hesitation, he asked his mum to buy Vico, a large one too. His plan, was almost close to perfection and his brain was smiling from ear to ear, thinking that he was a genius. But his face remained calm, his hidden agendas were protected by his chubby and innocent appearance.
But her mum knew too much. The pipes were somehow clogged up due to some unknown reasons. Baffled by the situation, her mum called for a plumber and after some diagnostics, the plumber concured that the pipes were clogged at the proximal part, the ones that were close to the sink.
And after some intriguing FBI like investigations, the boy finally gave in and admitted his crime to his mother.
"No more vico for you."
Her mum managed to save some RM from buying a large tin of Vico, while the boy sat quietly in his room, pondering what could have been a second robot gift from Vico. He thought that powder would be dissolved by water, but he was wrong. Maybe he was right, but maybe he fed the sink too fast, thus not allowing the powder to dissolve. But after the incident, he had grown all matured and decided to abandon his life with toys.
And the rest, as they say, is history. And he lived happily ever after.
PS : And now, i need to transform myself into a book reading form.
It's amazing what technology could do these days.
It's been quite awhile since i last met my friends from primary and lower secondary schools. I do wonder would people still remember me since i've morphed from a cute looking child into a princely handsome young guy.
So yesterday i spent hours and hours adding people, friends, pals, old acquaintances, colleagues of long gone years. It was a stroll down memory lane.
One of my best Chinese friends is still a Liverpool fan that he was when i last met him. He's still as smart as i used to know him. We share the same birth date and he was guessing the time i was born!
Another is an Indian guy who is probably the biggest Michael Jackson fan i will ever know. He kept doing all those crotch grabbing, moon walking moves, impersonating the King of Pop to entertain us at school and he wasn't bad at all.
And there are close friends from Alor Star who still remain as wacky as ever before.
I was very glad to see friends who are holding posts in various clubs and societies. Some continue their traditions of becoming student leaders, some gaining new experiences of taking this kind of responsibility for the first time in their lives. While i've probably taken a detour from that kinda of life.
To reconcile friendships and to strengthen them, that's what i am there for.
It's great what technology could do these days.
It's been quite awhile since i last met my friends from primary and lower secondary schools. I do wonder would people still remember me since i've morphed from a cute looking child into a princely handsome young guy.
So yesterday i spent hours and hours adding people, friends, pals, old acquaintances, colleagues of long gone years. It was a stroll down memory lane.
One of my best Chinese friends is still a Liverpool fan that he was when i last met him. He's still as smart as i used to know him. We share the same birth date and he was guessing the time i was born!
Another is an Indian guy who is probably the biggest Michael Jackson fan i will ever know. He kept doing all those crotch grabbing, moon walking moves, impersonating the King of Pop to entertain us at school and he wasn't bad at all.
And there are close friends from Alor Star who still remain as wacky as ever before.
I was very glad to see friends who are holding posts in various clubs and societies. Some continue their traditions of becoming student leaders, some gaining new experiences of taking this kind of responsibility for the first time in their lives. While i've probably taken a detour from that kinda of life.
To reconcile friendships and to strengthen them, that's what i am there for.
It's great what technology could do these days.
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