Digital memento

Was cleaning up the images folder on the computer and it suddenly came to mind again the photo book that I brought over from Miri almost a decade ago. Flipping through the pages, they contain many images that were arranged in chronological order from the oldest to the newest - Form 1,2,3,4,5,6 class shots, shenanigans in university in Genting Highlands and graduation photos; two of which that got my dad's attention because it was of me and an attractive coursemate together which ended with an anti-climax when I answered 'no' to his question of whether she is going to become Mom's future daughter in-law.

One of the four photos that gave Dad a false dawn.

All of which were taken long before digital photography was the craze due to equipments becoming more and more affordable to the average Joe and Jane. It got me thinking somewhat about digital photography as a whole - was it better that now we have greater freedom of art without the constraints of film or did it somehow made photos look more generic?

On one hand, I concur when some friends mentioned that it is harder to take quality photos using digital cameras because of the knowledge that there is no limit to how many you can take compared to film - snap many, delete the ones you don't like. Back then every shot counts as films cost money and developing them adds to the overall price of taking a memento in graphic form.

This is still used to represent 'Save' on almost all modern applications.

On the other hand it is not always true as well. I know friends with artistic tendencies who took awesome images with their digital cameras whom would probably never been motivated to do so if they had to pay for more than the electricity charging the batteries. I have seen some who did so with only the 5Mbps camera of their phones and took some great pictures worthy of those taken with their more professional brethrens.

I have personally only seriously used digital cameras to take any images of significance during my tenure at the first job as the designated cameraman for events. Even though I was given a Canon Powershot S40 to use back then with memory capacity of up to 800 images, I took each and every one like I was using film. Hence much of the time I had an idea of what I'd like to take, go to the very spot and wait for the right moment to snap it, often times with the finger on the focus button for minutes at a time.

"I waited two weeks for the bear to awaken from hibernation.
Unfortunately it was also very hungry".

One of the best I ever did was the image of a relay race from the corner where every single competitor was in view, unrestricted by the other as the front runners were facing to the right and those tail runners were just turning the arc. It was without motion blur, just perfect. I have always had the nose for thing such as image balance in terms of objects and emptiness. If anything I also had the patience to wait for the right moment to appear instead of going trigger happy with the shutter button.

Of late I only had the phone camera to capture whatever that took my attention, most especially at night where the contrast of darkness and light would usually create some interesting images although the quality was never as good as with an actual camera. Once had a photo of light shafts shining through the branches of a tree at the area near where I parked - there were smoke coming out from the backyard of one of the houses and it created an image that looked somewhat like a horror movie poster.

The only thing missing now is a priest holding a bag and holy water.

On second thought, no.

Getting caught in the jam never looked this artsy.

Perhaps I would in the future pick up the hobby seriously but for now I'm happy to steal them off friend's blogs - after informing them of course.

Joyeux anniversaire

One of the best things in having your birthday known on Facebook is the number of times you have to say thanks to everybody wishing you a good one. I didn't really go and have a count - but it's interesting to see how many lives have I at least poked or scraped on the surface as well as others who has been there for a long time.

Family
This don't count as you'd expect them to remember but it's nice nonetheless.

"No Sis, when is your birthday again?"

Family Friends
Looking through the list of people in there I kinda noticed that a lot the family friends on there are Mark's classmates or acquaintances. We used to live in St John's Wood Quarters which was about five minutes' walk from school - the entire St Columba school system was situated along the entire side of the road - kindergarten, primary and secondary!

The dudes usually hang around for lunch or just the usual lepak (and planning for the next mischief - they make great stories during get-together sessions two decades later). Some I knew from the time I were still sucking Milo from a bottle, all the way until the end of their bachelorhood. I tend to mix around pretty well with them considering the age and generation gap, perhaps because they have been around for a long time either way.

No, I'm not kidding - ask the 'European Guy'.

School
We spend at least some eleven years out of the first seventeen in school, so we make some friendships who last all the way to the adult days, many to the twilight year of our lives. Some names pop up from as far as primary school, others mostly from the days of secondary school. Many married with children now, only shows how times has changed and how everybody have moved on with life. Best thing is to know that social networking sites such as Facebook allows these momentarily severed friendships to be reconnected again, even if just by messages et al.

I do have Madam Sandra on Facebook - YEAH!

Workplace
The next place where we spend all our lives toiling to buy the house that we will leave empty most of the time to ... toil for the money... to... pay for the house that we... will leave empty... most of the time...

This is where we'll meet the biggest variety of people whom we'll see five days a week (at least) - single, married, young, old, friendly, shy, scary, hot, arrogant, powerful etc. You can say that these will be where our first taste of 'real life' will come from as we step onto a stage populated by all sorts of people who play their role in this cinema of life - the hero, anti-hero, the villain, the extra, the prop, the fairy godmother, genie etc.

"소원을 말해봐" never looked this good.

Of course throughout those times we will meet some friends whom you will remember well, even after changing jobs for the umpteenth time - we'd keep in contact by some work-related chats or just (entertaining) rubbish to pass off time.


Acquaintances (who become real life friends)
If anything we all get to know some friends online whom we'd probably never meet, ever - all of which are either hidden behind the facade of game avatars or just guys on forums we got to know after a while. Through just about 99.9% worth of interaction via text, some become comfortable enough let others know the real person.

Introverts thrive on the Internet because they don't have to assume a different person to actually interact with people, partly due to the semi-real time nature that allows people to respond immediately or later. The scope to private message makes it possible for two people whom would probably never talk to one another in life to actually chat.

"Hi, I'm hottie95, the elf - remember me?"

Considering that the Internet could contain up to a gazillion people, it is not very uncommon that some do become real friends that we hang around to meet probably once in life, others who actually become more than just part of the list of acquaintances on the 'Friends' column.

-


To me personally I don't 'advertise' my birthdays simply because I believe that getting wishes people who do know or get the effort to find out is a lot more meaningful because they think it worthy of their time to say a simple happy birthday to you. I've actually had a friend who just wished me three years in a row - his messages were dated a year between each, three in succession including today. One of the best part about responding to Facebook greets are the number of 'thank yous' that I have to keep writing -  never had the urge to just copy and paste but decided not to as that would be insincere - goes to show that even the average Joe like me can connect with so many people in this flicker of a life so far.

As I close the curtain on what is a rather pleasant birthday - allow me to thank you all again for the good wishes.

Don't get any funny ideas for next year now.

Dreams of normal things

We sat at the edge of the pier that bright sunny morning, the air clear and crisp. She wore a white dress with light floral prints, her head covered with a wide brimmed summer hat. Dragonflies buzzed from one bulrush to another, drawing attention from fish gliding under the surface. A lone fisherman sat patiently in his boat at the far end of the lake.

Dipping her toes into the warm water, her giggles filled the air as the ripples stirred the grass. Gently she brushed the strands of hair moved by the breeze into her face across her shoulders. Her eyes closed as she raised her face to the sky, her fair skin made luminous by the warm rays of the sun.

Letting out a gentle smile she opened her eyes to the direction of the swan wading at the other side of the lake. Their white and grey feathers glistened as they floated majestically like princes and princesses of fairy tales.

She turned her head to look my way, catching me looking at her with fascination.

"What are you thinking about?", she asked.

Now this is a little too eerily similar.

I didn't suddenly turn mushy and all romantic - I have just described one of the few series of dreams that I had a month ago. I added some poetic license to describe what was really a 'scene' or a picture of what I saw then.

These are the kinds of dreams that are unusual - they are so normal in which nothing is out of place like they would usually do such as strange people doing strange things that makes little to no sense. Everything was as normal as it would during waking hours. The atmosphere of the entire thing was like a picture perfect painting, everything was bright white - including her dress and summer hat - like a ... dream sequence in the movies.

Had a few of them in the same week, each of it different places and times of the day. One was in the park during sunset:

The light of the day has only begun to fade, the air has cooled down a little. We walked down the stone pavement, watching a kid play with the dog and an elderly couple walking arm in arms ahead of us. We sat down on a bench near the fountain (there might be a musician there) and watched as the sky slowly turned dark, saying nothing to one another.

Not in picture: people cursing the dog turd they just stepped on.

The other one was almost of the same kind, except the location is a little different along an esplanade during the evening. This one was a little more vague except that I remember feeling like it was in a French setting:

Music et al from the nearby street restaurants - along the river dimly lit by lamp posts with intricate carvings. A boat slowly cruised along its dark surface, the lights of the nearby buildings sparkling in the resulting turbulence. We leaned over the railing and looked at the magnificent view across the river, an old world building lit by lights shining upon it. At the very top was the round moon in a dark blue sky. Again, we said nothing to another.

It's a lot harder to find a fitting picture that I thought!

To the romantic it probably meant that there is something about this lady - I know this person - that my mind seem to find so captivating that she even appears in my subconscious.  If I were to be even more poetic, all three were part of a long 'trilogy' of sorts - daytime, sunset, evening.

But I'm probably more inclined to believe in the idea that all these are representations rather than absolute meaning. Like all dreams they usually refer to something in life that the mind is trying to make sense of as the brain rearranges all the memories.

A bit like a defrag that actually finish.

 One of my favourite things to do with dreams of such - vivid, logical dreams - is to recall them either by writing them down (this post) or telling them to another person using as much poetic language as I can muster, something like an artist putting his thoughts onto canvas - atrocious grammar et al. Would have preferred to compose a song if I actually had skills with the piano (or the wallet to buy one) or some art medium of sorts.

So did we do anything?
Yes and no.

"Can you stop freaking talking about football already?!".

Cold, rainy evening

I happen to like rainy days, especially in the evening and throughout the night that brings the ambient temperature down after a hot day. The air is filled with the pitter patter of raindrops falling on rooftops fill the air, splashing as they flow down in columns of liquid from the edges. The atmosphere is generally gloomy with occasional cool breeze of the air causing shudders.

Heavy rains are welcomed usually after long dry spells where the heat becomes unbearable - the air in the room heated, the car air conditioners not strong enough to keep it cool, the humidity causing sweat beads to build up even in the shade.

Something like meeting your girlfriend's father for the first time.

More than five years ago we had a mother of all storms (not the, but one of) when it rained so hard that I couldn't see further than 10 meters and water flying almost horizontally across the windscreen. Moments earlier there were hailstorms before the heavens opened up and literally broke lose. The freaky weather was on the news, many cars were damaged by falling branches or uprooted trees, roofs especially tin were blown off - you'd thought a hurricane passed by Subang Jaya.

During the first year in university I lived in the residential college located somewhere at the outskirts of the campus area (UPM is freaking huge). My room faced what was largely flat terrain with low hills and the highway - the engineering faculty would have covered the view now - one of our favourite things to do during rainy evenings were to sit near the window and watch lightning literally tearing downwards, the bright flash in the gloomy sky followed by the roar of angry thunder. Everybody would just sit back and watched nature's spectacular show without saying a thing.

God showing off.

 People tend to be calmer and less confrontational during slow, rainy days. Perhaps the cooled air or the soothing sounds of water hitting earth, windows, cars, streets, tree canopies, or just the idea of kicking back until the rain stops automatically slows down the mind and body.

Some of the weirdest things I've ever done was to actually walk into the rain with an umbrella,  just watch ripples fill the surface of water puddles, leaves moving as rain droplets hit them as well as drain water flowing furiously. I was warned to never go too near to the drains when they are flowing as so from the many news stories of drowned children who taught it fun or fell in accidentally whilst crossing. Other times I would just sit and watch rain hit the window, throwing patterns of flowing water lit by either the faint sun or the street lightning onto the face and wall.

One year we had the town level National Day Parade going on with each school and certain government agencies taking part, when not even halfway through it rained, subsided and rained again. Fortunately it wasn't heavy, simply drizzle in the evening that pretty much got us who carried the papier mâché robot in the wet. Unfortunately though, mom slipped and sprained her ankle when they came out to watch the last bit of the show and then to fetch me home. Her left feet was swollen bad and couldn't walk properly for the next two weeks. It rained again when I reached home - slept for twelve hours straight.

Must... *choke* ... stay... emo...gah!

Another memory of getting soaked in the rain at school was during the anniversary Sports Day. Organised by the prefectorial board and volunteers - invitation, arrangements, stadium rental, performances, timekeeping, medals and trophies all done by students; teachers just advised and kept tabs on us - it rained during the opening march past. The prefects whom were not participating in the races were in full uniform and blazers, whilst the first aid teams and scout members were all over the place assisting in the event. Fortunately again though, the rain wasn't very strong and has stopped by the time the first race started. Truth to be told nobody complained about it back then - perhaps we were made of sterner stuff - and had a great time out. I could still feel the chill of having the cold wind blowing onto the warm body.

There's a saying that getting wet a little will get you sick whilst getting totally wet would be fine, which is partly true from my point of view. The body heats up when one gets wet, I'd imagine the body does not regulate the temperature evenly when only some parts are wet or cold. I would usually take an either warm or cold shower (the latter resulting in wide eyed shivering) to ensure the headache does not develop later.

The rain has subsided somewhat now although still falling, the sounds of falling water slowing to a quieter splat and splash with the occasional faint crack of thunder.

So excuse me while I retreat to bed and snuggle under the blanket enveloped in the coolness.

Good night, my friends.

Ever wonder why sleeping photos are almost always in the bright daylight?

Cruisin' down the freeway

Statically speaking

For some I've been discharging a lot of static in the past five months. Today was like the sixth time I can remember when I could feel a zap after putting my finger close to a metal surface. The first I time I noticed it was when Alicia tapped my shoulder and a noticeable  'snap' could be heard before a bit static of a stung her finger. Back then I remember wearing a rather thick twirled cotton polo-shirt which might probably have caught static as I moved around on the leather seat of the car.

Me in my past life.

Many of the answers on the Internet point towards the dryness of the air around me, which probably explained why I have rather dry lips at the same time - the prickly feeling when I stretch them seem to have developed of late - applying lip balm only soothed it a little and leaving them pretty oily.

The last time I remember deliberately 'oiling' my lips not from moisture lost was during the 66th secondary school anniversary. I was one of the several stage actors for the compulsory memory lane performance. Because the stage was so brightly lit by spotlights, all of us boys had to put on lipstick to prevent our faces from looking like extras from the mortician office.

Conclusion - that was the last time I had ever fish scale applied to myself willingly.

Suffice to say none of us looked this sexy back then.

Brake-breaking braking

If there's anything that is hard to predict is the traffic on the Federal Highway. There are times when you expect it to be so damn $%&!@ jam, the 20km or so home was a breeze. And then there are times when you expect it to be smoother, people decide to head out in droves.

You can almost expect it to get congested when it rains but there are times - surprisingly frequent - when the road was actually pretty clear when it poured. Most times they just pop out of everywhere as if everybody telepathically decided to go home at the same time.

Car park : Full

Often it was caused by stalled or broken down cars that you can see with flashing hazard lights from a mile away and tow trucks appearing out of nowhere like they have 'Tow Me' sonar somewhere. You have to wonder why cars seem to stall more frequently when it rains compared to when it doesn't?

More frequently than not its due to accidents because the impatient ones drove faster than their worn brakes or tyres could handle in the rain, reckless drivers with hands and eyes on the phone or the pretty girl in the car next to them or whatever shenanigans in the car, even with two people looking ahead on the road.

"Good news honey - the radio is working now".

The whole journey from Mid Valley to PJ8 took an hour and the rest of the trip another thirty minutes. Good thing I have the radio on and some music on the phone to entertain myself. Ah Mei sounded great in the cool of the car interior, the music video of 解脫 reminding me of this drive back home, minus the actual relief of a moving car. At least it wasn't as bad as the experience some six years ago when I had to hold in a full bladder for two hours.

That's one and half hours of my life I'm not getting back.

Calling home

Had been meaning to call home since yesterday and only did so today after dinner when I knew everybody would be watching television and had all the time in the world to talk to me. Not spoken to Mom for quite some time now - I'm quite the bad boy when it comes to calling home - the last time I called home was probably four months ago.

Edit: Unless their visit here two months ago was a figment of my imagination, then it's no more than that.

"OMG, wer r d buttonz? Wer 2 swipe?
Wer iz d add book?!"

Most of the news she got about me came through chats with my brother but he was right when he said it would good to just call home and talk just about nothing at all. The forty or so minutes chatting with her just about anything was pretty refreshing like a sip of cool water during a warm day.

Or a dip in a basin of warm water on a cold day.

Looking back our relationship began close as a little child and his mother to the more distant once entering my teen years, graduating to just the person I call 'Ma', the one cooking the meals, the one washing the clothes, the one sweeping the floor - all the things us siblings won't be doing unless forced to. Even so, I'd probably do it half-hearted and resent being asked ordered.

"How many time do I have to tell you to bury your poop!".

Perhaps the period away from home that made me appreciate how important it is to maintain that relationship with home - not to mention her awesome to goodness home cooking (explains why I am such a fatty). It reminds you of the canopy of a great tree that you can always return to when it rains. These are some of the most important things we take for granted sometimes, which unfortunately for some of my friends, are not realised until its gone.

Can't quite remember if we'd ever had any more honest conversation this evening, ranging from work to me speaking of the future, our next trip to the east coast together as well as some personal things which I had never shared with her before. It never ceases to amaze me how much a person can still change after all these years. If I were to record this and send it back to the young me back in time, he'd be perplexed.


For a family who don't openly express ourselves to one another, I'm potentially the least expressive. In fact I've actually given flowers to a girl before I did my own mother - even that was shared with my brother!

One thing I can be certain is that I believe she understood the actual reason why I called home earlier even if I did not describe them fully. Wise not to feed me with deceptively misleading fantasies, all she did was tell me about the realities of life and that she will support whatever I plan to do as long as it does not lead to suffering of others.

"All your father and I want is for you kids to be happy".

In the mean time I better save up for our trip to Taiwan for 2013's Chinese New Year.

Compulsory cute piggy back pic.

Festivities and headaches

My friend Ricky finally said goodbye to his bachelorhood yesterday with the wedding reception held at the ORNA Golf & Country Club. From what I heard he secured his bride Vickee after his 'brothers' swallowed a wasabi drink mixture earlier at her place in Seremban together with the rest of the stuff that the sisters had planned for as ransom. A bit of traditional fun there, and was glad not to be asked to be one of them. Not that I would say no if ever asked to, if it is a ransom to pay for his happiness, so be it.

Even the rat disapproves.

And I have absolutely no idea what 'ORNA' meant either.

We arrived earlier at about 5:00 pm and decided to mosey around MYDin instead for the next hour or so, having a drink of longan and watching some performance for Deepavali of sorts at the main entrance. There was a display of coloured rice arrangements upstairs, the names of which I could not for my life remember except that it was called 'kollum' by my Indian friends. Is it also called a mandala?

Sneaking an electric fan into this place might prove exciting.

Met up with some old friends from the previous office and boy have things changed in the short year or so. Andrew's wife is on to her second child after the first with others getting asked the question of when would be their own turn. Suffice to say that only one dude had 'definitive' answer to that question whilst the rest are either shrugging their shoulders or shaking their heads.

It was CNY four months too early for some of us.

The food spread was standard of most Chinese banquet dinners, beginning with the usual four seasons cold plate, the sharksfin soup, roasted chicken, steamed fish, brocolli & mushroom and glutinous lotus leaf rice, finished with a nice sago dessert at the end. Unusual for a Malaysian Chinese dinner though, everything was timed to perfection that it ended almost exactly at 10 pm with the tables empty within the next twenty minutes.

"I want the sweet sour fish in and out in 1057.38s - MOVE IT!"

Ricky was as high as heck - his face was flushed red by the time he came over to our table for the post dinner toast - something I have almost never seen before in the two years or so being my boss.

I did my part to fulfill what was one of his wishes, just for him this time - finishing a full glass of beer - something that I am very unlikely to do again (unless the motivations are good). Did it gladly just for him on the biggest night of his life so far.

That was just for you, Ricky.

 The thing is that whilst it didn't quite hit me whilst I sipped the bitter brew bit by bit throughout dinner is that it tasted like water and had no effect whatsoever, until an hour later when the head starts to feel funny and the reaction slowed down. Something like a negative feedback thing, the more you drink, the more your senses are numbed, the 'better' you get at it when you're actually already affected.

I'm getting a headache looking at this picture without alcohol.

During our trip back down to KL I developed quite a bit of headache that become stronger by the time I reached home, showered and collapsed in bed. Woke up at 7:40 am with the head still throbbing, slept through the next FIVE hours before it subsided.

Either way, regardless of what is being said about my limit et al especially on being hungover by just 325ml of 5% alcohol - no more of that stuff except for the most special of circumstances.

Me this morning, except less furry and not as adorable.

Lyrical gangsta

Ever wondered about the little little things in life that goes on daily that you don't seem to notice until later?

Like the song I heard this morning in the car on the way to work , the DJ announced the song that Alicia had posted on Google+ and realised that it had been on the radio all this time. The Band Perry's "If I Die Young" didn't quite catch my attention perhaps due to my ignorance that this band is not one of the those emo 'rock bands' trying to do the compulsory ballad, but rather a counterpart to Lady Antebellum. Once given the more attention it actually sounded a lot better and more meaningful.

Personally, for slower songs I put quite a bit of premium on the lyrics as they have less instruments or beat to distract you, so what the singer is trying to say will be quite important in whether it will get my attention or not.

For that reason I hold a special liking for ballads that are somewhat different from the mainstream 'I love you' types, especially when written from the perspective of a person telling a story or narration.


The Third Person
One good example is 그녀의 남자에게 by Kim Jong Kook, which translates roughly to 'To Her Man/Guy'. Apart from the lovely piano and somewhat unique voice of a big guy, the song speaks about his message to the girl's boyfriend/husband etc to appreciate and cherish her the way that he cannot.

She talks about you about how you're such a great person.
And she smiles all the time when she does.
Just like how I was when I saw her for the first time.
Even if she's always 10 minutes late
Just smile and let it pass.

She doesn't even know how pretty she is so
all day she'll fuss in front of the mirror like a fool.

Don't ever hold in the words I love you.
Be the first one to speak up when she pouts with anger.
And if by chance when she thinks of me and hurts
Just hold her close... even if you feel unhappy.

If sometimes she complains about stupid things
Always soothe her with a smile.
When you drop her off always turn around another time to look.
And if she tries to break up with you, be stubborn and hold onto her.

Don't ever hold in the words I love you.
Be the first one to speak up when she pouts with anger.
And if by chance when she thinks of me and hurts
Just hold her close... even if you feel unhappy.

Why is it now that I've come to realize all these things?
Why is it now that I feel like I've done the best I could?
If, for one day just one day I could trade places with you
I'd show her all the love I couldn't before

It's true I still love her
and it's true that I still wait for her like a .
Everyday I turn it over and over in my heart like an echo
But it's she that's left my side and looks elsewhere.
It's she that will be at your side

TL;DR

Simple Yet Sweet
Recently viewed this on Youtube, a cover of Kiss Me Or Not by Caroline County featuring the very talented Julia Sheer & Matthew McGinn. Begins with the retelling of a 'date' on the roof of the house, looking at the stars and talking about everything under moon, the smell of honeysuckle, her perfume and if he will kiss her or not.

Perhaps a little too saccharine to some but how many of us have had moments like this in life when we all turn into little boys and girls again?

"Arrgh, your song is giving me diabetes!"

You're Different

It always begins with the retelling of the singer's pain, anger or sadness, how things are like a black and white movie with the rain falling nonstop, the air is cold and dank. The singer sings about how perhaps this is how it will always be for them, accepting that some of the lessons of life will be harsh and not everybody wins.

Then as they step out to the heavy rain again to move on the next point of their lives, someone opens up an umbrella asked if they would like some cover. He or she then realises that sometimes a simple thoughtful question from somebody who is also drenched in the same storm would often be the only thing required to crack the coating of stone that had caused the heart to go cold.

Not quite the same, but some part of Paramore's The Only Exception seem to resonate a lot about what I think when it comes to relationships; sometimes it does look like a storm that will never stop, yet there is beauty in the rain if one knows where to look.

It's not the umbrella you're looking at, admit it.

Love/Friendship
One of my most favourite of all songs in this category is one written by Mac Davis, speaking about a lonely old man who found a note written by a lonely orphan child, discovered an unlikeliest of friendships, spending the winter laughing at the rain.

Chyi's version of the song, Whoever Finds This, I Love You! is my favourite.

"How do you spell 'hu eva'?"

All in all, one of the patterns that can be discerned from the example above are how they resonate with the everyday person instead of the fairy tale that we all wish so much to live in. They remind us that the simplest most beautiful things in life are often the very real things you see, hear or feel down the street you walk in daily.

"Ohai der!".

Onion layers

Every person has three hearts:
one that they show in public
one that they show to close friends and family
and one that only they and their God sees.

Try to see through to the heart that is reserved for themselves and their God, for that is the heart most trustworthy.

- Japanese proverb -

The first time I read this proverb was from the excellent Shogun by the late James Clavell. As the description above explains, a person is made of several layers that obscure the other. Every one of it hold different truths about the person. 

Something like this guy, minus the BMI and Fitness First membership.

 Personally, I hold this to be true as from interaction with people down the years you tend to learn different sides to them from the people they know that might sometimes contradict with how they are with you. I suppose the best thing to do is to always be open to the idea that the person you know may not necessarily be who they appear to be.

I have always been fascinated by the third heart of other people. Digging into this very personal space of the person's thoughts had been one of my favourite things to do. Rarely ever as to use it against them, I find understanding the true nature of a person and their thoughts to be some sort of a challenge, like answering some sort of a riddle. Humans are the most complex of riddles as they have the ability to mislead or be dishonest, so the great challenge in sifting through the many things you see and find the little bits of themselves hidden behind the veil.

"I'm not playing peek-a-boo Mister, your fly is open!"

It might backfire at times, especially those whom we accurately read or understand - they tend to shrink away to close themselves for good from you either out of fear of betrayal or shame. Unsurprising considering that this is where the most intimate of secrets are kept, either good or shameful ones - knowing them means you have a hold of their psyche. As the proverb mentioned, the most honest of a person is kept here - nobody would actively betray their true selves.

I have been called very secretive by close friends, which is a good thing considering that many consider me trustworthy enough to talk to about things they won't usually tell another soul, and not to use it against them. It's like a one way street, anything of great importance to these people that they bother to talk about will stay with me.

On a personal level, my thoughts or what I feel about things get shrouded between passively misleading others e.g revealing enough of the truth to make others reach the wrong conclusion - or simple lack of reaction. There are times when I am rocked on the inside but shows just about nothing from expression - coupled with offhand reactions that is the absolute opposite of my actual thoughts.

"No really, I am quite interested to know what the 14th decimal of pi is".

 This is possibly one of the reasons why I am normally slightly morose in terms of my 'default' appearance, the mind always actively thinking whilst the person appears inactive.

Doesn't mean that when people greet or joke with me that my smile or laughter in return are fake - I can compartmentalize what I think or feel to have only a 'local effect' - if that person wasn't the reason why I am moody, he or she will get a favourable reaction from me regardless - they are not why I feel that bad. To let them bear the brunt of my wrath is simply unfair because I would hate to be blamed for something not of my doing either. Often it's pride (good type) that is keeping me from lashing out on the innocent, most of the time is due to not wanting to regret doing something I could have avoided by taking a deep breath and counting to five.

Mother once cautioned me to thinking twice before saying anything, especially when tempers flare. I am not that easily ticked off nowadays especially after learning to empathise but there have been times when I have to bite my tongue to prevent myself from saying anything, most especially when I have to deal with it again later. As they say don't break the glass holding your drinks if you can't deal with the thirst. End result are often quick breaths, pulses in the forehead, the pressure on the chest, the heat in the shoulder and the shake of the jaws. I am pretty poker-faced as one ex-colleague once said, but only a few had managed to see the rage boiling inside - there might not even be a frown.

Kitteh sez it rite.

At the end of the day, the better angel always ask me if it is worth it - usually the answer is a simple no and things fade away. "You'll wake up feeling better tomorrow", I usually tell troubled friends.

And sometimes to myself.

"Zzz... she... izzz..cuuu... zzz...  anyeong.. Liver...pzz....haz zzzz.."

Not another food blog

Is it good? The answer is 'no'. But considering Tastypot is being pitted against the likes of the immortal Yuen, perhaps the expectation is going to be a little overboard - it's either as good or not good enough.

The ringmaster Jerrald had this planned in the office a few days back, so I thought why not considering I've been to Yuen some seven times in the past four years a change might be good. Also had the first ever soya bean soup hotpot which was a bit strange. Tasted quite bland at the start and ended up freaking salty at the end.

The crabs, lala, siput and fishballs stood no
chance against the Mighty Jerrald.

They also had the likes of sesame honey chicken which was quite savoury - kudos to the cook who tried to be different though, otherwise it'll ended up compared to the famous barbecued wings of...  a competitor shop. They have barbecued fish and crabshell egg which would've given it a plus point in compared to... that shop, if they tasted great. Never had to chance to try the barbecued lamb, poor J.

Noticed that the whole area is filled with either seafood or steamboat shops, it has probably eclipsed the coastal towns as the Mecca of hotpots, dab smack in the middle of Subang Jaya. It's like the seafood Tesco or Carrefour of our times - convenient, near and somewhat cheap.

 It pretty much as the epitome of Malaysia's favourite pastime of eating, especially outside with a group of people. Almost every table was filled with at least four people each. It's a Malaysian way of getting people to talk to one another whilst getting filled up with food, which would satisfy both food and socialising requirements at the same time. The whole area was filled with people and more people at tables munching away as they spoke to one another.

None of the other tables have Choi Ji Woo or the Roman Emperor though.

The saving grace is that the ice cream was pretty good though - mint chocolate, cookie and vanilla as well as strawberry. As well as the line of four babes that stood outside the toilet as they waited for the single ladies toilet.

The lady in black in the background was kinda hot.
This is Alex by the way.

Steve Jobs (February 24, 1955 – October 5, 2011)

I won't pretend to be a big fan of his but what he has done to revolutionise innovations in the IT industry was if anything, monumental, so the guy deserves my respect.

Died from pancreatic cancer, he was 56.