Set a-flutter,
But I flatter myself.

28 marks to go for that infuriatingly intimidating economics assignment... What better way to prepare for battle round 2 than to dumb my mind for a while and think happy thoughts :)

The humble abode for my new baby. 100% handmade. *beams*

Around the world in 80 days: Day 67-UoA

I miss the live score updates.

The Gallenkamp!
The Erlenmeyer!
The rat stood confused
On the brink of furry death.
Was it a trick of the eye?
Did it not disappear...
Given an oven
The rat'll do a Slyvia Plath.
Forlorn and haggard
The rat scampered back
Needing the angel's embrace
For the luxury
Of some unreality check.
Do you know angels have off days too?
The rat was not notified;
Instead sinking deeper
Into the abyss
Release from melancholy denied.

Later...

At the trench of the sinusoidal curve
Was a cheese flavoured letter
And that was all it took
To put the rat back on it's feet
Believing tomorrow will be better.
The rat chuckled to itself
"How strange and peculiar
The way I buried myself
Under the insidious atmosphere
When really everything
Is simply mind over matter."

Written straight from the heart by a true Malaysian, who, I quote, "didn't get an A1 for 1119".

* * * (unedited)

Today is September 16. Is this day just a result of the "hasutan" and crazed effort of a power-hungry man? I don't believe that. Even the antichrist can't raise such emotions and turmoil alone. This is the sum of all the pain, displeasure and uncertainty brought onto us due to continuous social, political and economical mismanagement by a government plagued with not so much of incompetence than corruption. It is because we are a country blessed with such unrivalled richness in potential, yet at the same time suffering from the weight of an evil grip, suppressing and stifling the people.

I still remember having so many arguments with my parents about why are things "the way they are". Why is such injustice not only allowed constitutionally, but also accepted as a way of life that we have a responsibility to tolerate? Today I see hope again for the wronged. I see hope for change. And I can believe finally with passion that right will always triumph over wrong. Because no matter how this episode ends we have all seen the power of the people. And we have shown how the people cannot be mocked with illogical excuses and cries for blood.

I can now trust in the collective courage of the people. We are empowered. It is now our duty, as the young generation, to imbue ourselves with strengths and abilities, so we can answer to the callings of our nation when the time comes. We have a responsibility to the country. We will decide the future of the country, because it falls into our hands to make a difference in a time of transition. It is for us to build the country, to shape it into what it will be, to fulfill its latent potential, and to bring Malaysia to its destiny.

The impossible has happened. Not the election results, not the threats of racial riots, nor the gross misuse of ISA. What I see is a Cabinet Minister resigning for his principle and belief, what I see is the people throwing caution to the wind and voting for change. What I see is the people for once being truly represented by leaders who dare to voice their resentment for underhanded tactics and discrimination, even if the offence is committed by their own coalition.

Do not get me wrong. I do not see this going smoothly. Rather I see a revolution, rivaled only in our history by the fight led by MPAJA against the Japanese during WW2 and also Merdeka itself. It's my hope that the transition is smooth and painless, but such is almost wishful thinking. My guess is we will see blood and we have to be prepared for sacrifice. We must be ready to give everything and anything to the progress of the country.

This would not, however, be in the conventional sense where physical warfare will be the focus. Rather, in this time, and for us, the war lines will be drawn along multiple sectors with boundaries lining finances, media, technology and like. We have already seen the "soft" war of internet blogs and party-hopping of MPs. This will go on, but it's likely to only get "harder".

This will however, be fought over by our fathers, the older generation. Whether it'll be over by the time we are ready, no one knows. My wish is that it will. But if it doesn't, the fight must continue with us. What is sure is we are in a very special, and scary period of time in our nation's history, and we must be prepared, whether it is to wage war, or to recover and move our country forward in a post-turmoil environment.

So I'm calling for the youth to rise to this challenge. No more is it relevant to sharpen the parangs and sound the war horn. Rather, it is required of every one of us to hone our skills any aspect we do the best, and in time, these skills will be what makes the difference. Every little unremarkable trait or peculiarity you have there, that's going to contribute to the building and rehabilitation of the nation. So refine it, and polish it until it becomes not only an asset but a viable weapon in time.

We have all suffered enough. And so has everyone around us. It is now time to unite, wherever we are, and begin a long and perilous march to the birth of a truly great nation. And the first steps are already taken. It is now that we will fulfill our duty and destiny.

* * *

More effective than 3 months of National Service, don't you think?

I was about to take the escalator at the University LRT station when I saw a blind man standing in the middle of the landing, looking lost and confused.

Without a second thought, which is unusual for me, I walked right up him and said, "Can I help you?"

He wanted to take the train to Coliseum, so I guided him down the multiple escalators to the waiting area. As we descended, he held on to my hand. I'm not at all comfortable with strangers holding on to any part of me, especially after the unsavory experience of having a grimy Indian man grab my hand at Petaling Street. I was 9 then. You can't blame me for being paranoid ever since.

Well, back to the blind man, we happened to take the same train, and during the journey I observed him to confirm that he was indeed blind. It would have been too late, but I didn't want to feel taken advantaged of.

I watched him fiddle with the wires of his headphones and rearrange his Subway cookies. He had funny eyes. My brain did its analysis and concluded , to put it crudely, that he was a genuine blind man.

Later that night, Fatty said he would give me a pat on my shoulder not so much for my kindness as for my bravery. It must be the Canadian weather getting to me, because under usual circumstances, I'd shy away from helping an unknown person, or I'd spend too much time contemplating the "hows" and "should Is" such that the moment would pass and I'd feel awkward if I offered my help.

In fact, sometimes I see people in Singapore fidgeting and getting tensed over whether they should give up their seat to the elderly on the bus or train. As if helping would make them seem like a "goody two shoes" to the extent that they'd feel embarrassed by an act of kindness.

Now springing up when I see a person who needs a seat more than me feels like second nature. I cannot explain my bout of hesitancy; I don't understand why it was there in the first place.

I received a call from ubur ubur. He wasn't a bearer of good news.

A friend I've known since Form 2 passed away. He had been sick for quite some time. I always thought he had the cancer under control, and that he was fighting - and winning.

Death is depressing, but more unsettling is the demise of a person who is supposed to be at his prime. It demonstrates how being 21 does not necessarily mean that one is bequeathed the armor of invincibility. Life is fragile.

I felt quite remorseful for not visiting him while he was around. A few of us did discuss about going together as a group, but somehow the plans remained just that. I even had doubts about attending his wake, mostly because I dreaded the uneasiness at such a somber function, and I didn't want to go alone. But ubur ubur encouraged me, and told me to go on his behalf.

So after dinner I took time to prepare myself and walked to his house. My trepidation was unfounded as the crowd was huge, and to a certain extent not too mournful (the professional mourners in "There's a Death in the House Opposite" come to mind). I was soon inconspicuous.

The Christian service began at about 8 30 pm with hymns and prayers. I stood with a few schoolmates at the side of house, so still we were the perfect feeding ground for mosquitoes. As the service droned on, my mind wandered, taking in occasional terms like "living hope" and "living stone". I must confess I do not identify with these conceptual ideas (yet), but I concluded that funerals generally serve two functions: to celebrate and commemorate the life of the deceased, and to help the deceased's family and relatives deal with their loss.

It first occurred to me, that in the face of death, everything that one has aspired and striven for is meaningless. Are the SPM and SAM qualifications not mere pieces of decorated paper for him? I lambaste myself for such selfish, shallow thinking, and for taking things at surface value. Because thankfully, the complexity of human relationships allow one's ambitions and passion to benefit more than the individual, just like how he, in his personal way, contributed his talent and energy towards the well-being of others.

Ending the service was the march past his open coffin. I thought he looked very different and unrecognizable. At this stage, though, all that matters is the privilege I had in befriending him. He was a good person.

That love will ensure the end is good.