I'm at a loss.
I'm still surfing the internet!
No cut. No hassle. No problem.
The Internet is on and connecting flawlessly.
Maybe Izam heard my prayer and decided NOT to terminate the subscription?
Yes lah. Can lose sleep and surf until the wee hours in the morning.
Better go and play badminton now.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Friday, January 22, 2010
One Rare Gem...
After a manic couple of days, I'm normal again.
I steadied the ship, took a good control of my life, and tried to contain myself from doing anything stupid.
So far, I succeeded.
I'm back to my former self.
Long may it continue.
So I went to Penang Squash Academy Centre. A classy prodigy was strutting her stuff there...she was no other than a certain Vanessa Raj. I wrote about her in great length some years ago. Then, she was a lovely 11 years old girl. Her fickle emotion led her to cry on a tiniest reason...in fact, she almost cried whenever she failed to return my shot.
I missed that little Vanessa.
But that was then. Now, she is thirteen...standing taller than me now. Although her biological age is somewhat young, now she displays a matured attitude comparable to a fully grown up girl. Her childish act was long gone...now she possesses a rare composure and calm, on and off the court.
Up against an equally young player in the final, she was made to sweat...for the first time ever.
I saw her the other day in the preliminary round...she defeated her opponent without dropping a single set. A walk in the park. But this time around, he was a tricky opponent. Equally skillful and boasted an ego beyond his age, he trapped Vanessa with his cunning shots and techniques over and over again.
Vanessa fell for his tricks on a number of occasions. But she fought back, never to give him much time to breath. Vanessa executed some breathtaking drops...I feared she may fail in her attempts and broke down as her former self, but it was not to be. She has somewhat mastered her emotion and skills comparably.
Their control of the court was amazing. The pace of the game was somewhat slower, maybe due to their relatively young age. But their performance was worthy of a praise.
After dropping the first set, she walked out of the court, sitting quietly besides me. I set my sight on her...but she didn't utter a single word. Maybe she was thinking about the match.I thought of offering her some words of encouragement...but I refrained myself from doing so. She knew what she was doing.
The problem with her first game was that she hasn't force her opponent far enough from the T zone. The T is like a throne in squash...whomever conquered it is the king. You control the T, you'll control the court and you'll control your opponent's movement. Stray from the T long enough, you'll be dead meat not long afterward.
In her second game, she changed her game plan. Now, she played more cross-courts to throw her opponent off balance. She varied her shots...attacking more on the left side of the court. In other words, to the back hand of her opponent.
Her strategy worked...she won the second game.
But he didn't give Vanessa any favour in the succeeding set. He cut and dropped the ball to disrupt Vanessa's game plan...much to her dismay. If she can improve on her smash, the tide would surely turn in her favour. Her drop shot was just excellent. A beauty that makes the game sparkle.
She fought the tie to the fifth set...before eventually losing in the deciding set. Even though she lost the game, I was proud of her attitude, her fighting spirit. Her calmness and her composure were exemplary...worthy of an emulation.
She is one of a kind...a rare gem. It's strange for a significantly older person to admire a younger protege, but she filled me with enthusiasm to play and compete with my full potential. It doesn't matter whether you win or lose a match, as long as you are giving your best.
Thank you, Vanessa. Your attitude and personality gave me something to ponder about.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Off Connection
After less than a month, I am going to be disconnected again from the world of internet.
Izam told Sabri that she would no longer be paying for our connection (They are a sweet couple. Sabri, by the way, is my housemate)
Izam...RM68 only...why cannot? Your salary is more than enough...I and Sabri can afford, but we need to think about the future. Hafiz isn't coming back...he didn't even reply my message. If he were to stay in KL, the house-rent would be on our shoulders to bear.
And if Sabri succeeded in his appeal, it would be down to only two of us...me and Wan. Mati la. How can I survive?
So what should I do next? Cut off from the internet is like being isolated in a big, dark cave. And my ongoing studies. Money isn't everything but everything revolves around money nowadays.
This headache is killing me.
Izam told Sabri that she would no longer be paying for our connection (They are a sweet couple. Sabri, by the way, is my housemate)
Izam...RM68 only...why cannot? Your salary is more than enough...I and Sabri can afford, but we need to think about the future. Hafiz isn't coming back...he didn't even reply my message. If he were to stay in KL, the house-rent would be on our shoulders to bear.
And if Sabri succeeded in his appeal, it would be down to only two of us...me and Wan. Mati la. How can I survive?
So what should I do next? Cut off from the internet is like being isolated in a big, dark cave. And my ongoing studies. Money isn't everything but everything revolves around money nowadays.
This headache is killing me.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
2010
I know it's kind of late, but we are now in a brand new year. 2010. A year of hope, dream and ambition.
Thanks to Sabri, now I have a fully connected computer in my house. My last published article written in the comfort of my room was around May or June last year. Since then, the postings were either done in the cyber cafe or by using my friend's laptop.
This is the year of great hope. I hope to achieve something this year. To get my life back on track. That's the priority.
Less personal life, more on ideas and thinking. I hope 2010 will make a big difference. To me and to the others.
"Takut Gagal Adalah Gagal Sejati" (Fear Of Failure Is The Real Failure) - HAMKA
I'll bounce back. 2010, just you wait...
Thanks to Sabri, now I have a fully connected computer in my house. My last published article written in the comfort of my room was around May or June last year. Since then, the postings were either done in the cyber cafe or by using my friend's laptop.
This is the year of great hope. I hope to achieve something this year. To get my life back on track. That's the priority.
Less personal life, more on ideas and thinking. I hope 2010 will make a big difference. To me and to the others.
"Takut Gagal Adalah Gagal Sejati" (Fear Of Failure Is The Real Failure) - HAMKA
I'll bounce back. 2010, just you wait...
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Nature's love
A friend from the other side of the world was wandering through a corn field one day.
She lay down spontaneously between a row of corn stalks, before she realized a love-shaped hole on one of the leaves, courtesy of some 'lovely' pest.
This was taken in July this year. I kept the picture all this while, waiting for the right moment to release it.
Maybe the time has come. Maybe I should let it all go...
Sunday, December 13, 2009
A session with Dr Ooi Kee Beng
I was in Borders this noon, to attend a brief public session with Dr Ooi Kee Beng.
An established writer, his books cover a wide range of topics, but he focuses more on local politics. His biography of the late Tun Dr Ismail abdul Rahman, also our former deputy prime minister, caught my attention in 2007.
"The Reluctant Politian : Tun Dr Ismail and his time" was published serially in a segment in Malaysia-Today. It chronicles the life of Dr Ismail, dubbed "the man who saved Malaysia" for his actions as the home minister in the period succeeding the tragic May 13 racial riot of 1969.
Dr Ooi is a fluent speaker of English...his spoken English is as good as his writing. He speaks out his mind naturally, and delivers his idea in such subtlety...it was a privilege to hear him in person. He talked about being a good writer...the do and dont's, deriving points from his own experiences.
But frankly, the crowd was very poor in number. There were empty seats everywhere...I seated at the far back. I was the only Malay present...sandwiched between a row of two young Chinese and a family of an Indian.
"My books" said Dr Ooi "were published mainly in Singapore".
"We have to master the language, not to let the language to master us. Sometimes we think we already mastered the language, but it's not the case. We've become the slave of the language"
"Sometimes, we have to rewrite the whole chapter. There were times when the idea seems to stray from the intial argument"
"We need to concentrate on one page at a time. That's how could we come up with over 300 pages book. Imagine if Nicol David was trailing 8-1 in squash...how could she win the match? By focussing on one point after another"
"The title is important as well. It keeps our focus on the main discussion. And I created all the cover of my books myself"
As Dr Ooi drove his points, I wondered how did he manage to be the man he is today. He must have been an avid reader...no way could he write a succession of good books without himself being a keen reader. He admitted he doesn't write fiction...I bet fiction doesn't interest him much.
The session ended half an hour later, and he received a couple of questions from the public. An Indian man in front of me asked about freedom of expression...whether Dr Ooi faced any scrutiny for his outright views expressed in his books.
"No...never. It is important not to criticise without substance. The way way we projected our view is also important..."
I smelled something fishy about that Indian guy. His two sons were seated next to him. From his way of talking, I know he is not from the establishment school of thought. But I let my suspicion to remain with myself.
A young Chinese man inquired about Dr Ooi's inspiration. After that, the crowd went silent...no more questions being asked. Dr Ooi looked into my eyes, and asked whether "us", the young generations, have any other questions.
I threw a smile and responded indirectly that I have nothing to ask.
Then, the said Indian guy began talking about his son, who is supposedly learning history. Of course everyone learned history in school...his action puzzled me. What was his motive? But then his motive became clearer. He began talking about distorted view in history....about heroes that shouldn't be called heroes.
That confirmed my earlier prediction that he is from the anti-establishment side. But luckily Dr Ooi handled him perfectly.
"We don't have much time in school to teach everything" said Dr Ooi.
"So it boils down to tertiary education" added Dr Ooi. I can't remember much of what was being said by Dr Ooi, because I focused my whole attention on that arrogant Indian. Lucky my spoken English is not that good...I could have shot his points down at ease if it was otherwise.
And the session ended peacefully afterwards...leaving me wondering, where are all the self-glorifying, 'liberated' Malay bloggers in the blogosphere? none were there. Are they not interested in learning some tricks to write better from the master himself?
Maybe they are already good enough. I wonder.
An established writer, his books cover a wide range of topics, but he focuses more on local politics. His biography of the late Tun Dr Ismail abdul Rahman, also our former deputy prime minister, caught my attention in 2007.
"The Reluctant Politian : Tun Dr Ismail and his time" was published serially in a segment in Malaysia-Today. It chronicles the life of Dr Ismail, dubbed "the man who saved Malaysia" for his actions as the home minister in the period succeeding the tragic May 13 racial riot of 1969.
Dr Ooi is a fluent speaker of English...his spoken English is as good as his writing. He speaks out his mind naturally, and delivers his idea in such subtlety...it was a privilege to hear him in person. He talked about being a good writer...the do and dont's, deriving points from his own experiences.
But frankly, the crowd was very poor in number. There were empty seats everywhere...I seated at the far back. I was the only Malay present...sandwiched between a row of two young Chinese and a family of an Indian.
"My books" said Dr Ooi "were published mainly in Singapore".
"We have to master the language, not to let the language to master us. Sometimes we think we already mastered the language, but it's not the case. We've become the slave of the language"
"Sometimes, we have to rewrite the whole chapter. There were times when the idea seems to stray from the intial argument"
"We need to concentrate on one page at a time. That's how could we come up with over 300 pages book. Imagine if Nicol David was trailing 8-1 in squash...how could she win the match? By focussing on one point after another"
"The title is important as well. It keeps our focus on the main discussion. And I created all the cover of my books myself"
As Dr Ooi drove his points, I wondered how did he manage to be the man he is today. He must have been an avid reader...no way could he write a succession of good books without himself being a keen reader. He admitted he doesn't write fiction...I bet fiction doesn't interest him much.
The session ended half an hour later, and he received a couple of questions from the public. An Indian man in front of me asked about freedom of expression...whether Dr Ooi faced any scrutiny for his outright views expressed in his books.
"No...never. It is important not to criticise without substance. The way way we projected our view is also important..."
I smelled something fishy about that Indian guy. His two sons were seated next to him. From his way of talking, I know he is not from the establishment school of thought. But I let my suspicion to remain with myself.
A young Chinese man inquired about Dr Ooi's inspiration. After that, the crowd went silent...no more questions being asked. Dr Ooi looked into my eyes, and asked whether "us", the young generations, have any other questions.
I threw a smile and responded indirectly that I have nothing to ask.
Then, the said Indian guy began talking about his son, who is supposedly learning history. Of course everyone learned history in school...his action puzzled me. What was his motive? But then his motive became clearer. He began talking about distorted view in history....about heroes that shouldn't be called heroes.
That confirmed my earlier prediction that he is from the anti-establishment side. But luckily Dr Ooi handled him perfectly.
"We don't have much time in school to teach everything" said Dr Ooi.
"So it boils down to tertiary education" added Dr Ooi. I can't remember much of what was being said by Dr Ooi, because I focused my whole attention on that arrogant Indian. Lucky my spoken English is not that good...I could have shot his points down at ease if it was otherwise.
And the session ended peacefully afterwards...leaving me wondering, where are all the self-glorifying, 'liberated' Malay bloggers in the blogosphere? none were there. Are they not interested in learning some tricks to write better from the master himself?
Maybe they are already good enough. I wonder.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
A dream too far...
I didn't get enough sleep last night....so this entry won't be long. I'll put a stop when my energy runs out.
Me, Amir, Hafiz and Fahmi played Football Manager throughout the night. It's mind-boggling to think that the over-aged teenagers like us, with me being the youngest, still play this addictive football game. We hardly find a good time together these days...so this is an excellent chance to make up for the lost time.
Fahmi is still his former self...he didn't change a bit. He reminds me of our younger days...when we browsed through daily life together. No worries...only happiness and excitement along the way. We made mistakes then...but things happened. It's no use crying over a spill milk.
Five years is just too short. I wonder how the elected President of America could ever achieve anything in that short period of time. Time just flies pass us without we ever realizing it.
When I was a small child, I looked upon the sky whenever a plane flew passed over my head. I wondered, then, when will I ever be on that plane? Do I stand a slightest chance, to experience the sensation of flying? If I do, what would I be then? A scientist...travelling by air to meet fellow scientists overseas? A doctorate student on board to attending an international conference?
When I first stepped up onto a plane, I ignored all the warning signs. I didn't turn off my hand phone. I didn't tighten the seat belt when the plane was about to take off (I didn't even put the belt on) When the plane was just seconds in mid air, I looked down to the vast land under me, and muttered to myself " Sorry...my younger me. I have failed you"
My only dream is to serve the nation. I'll begin by caring for myself, taking good care of my family and my immediate relatives, and reaching out for the poor and the needy as far as I can. I'd like to inspire people...to instill confidence in them, helping them realize their true potential so they could use it to the maximum effect. But judging from my current condition, maybe it's a task too tall. A dream too far.
I think I need my rest now. It's been an incredible weekend. Maybe a weekend to remember.
Dec 7, 2009
Sunday
2:49 a.m
Me, Amir, Hafiz and Fahmi played Football Manager throughout the night. It's mind-boggling to think that the over-aged teenagers like us, with me being the youngest, still play this addictive football game. We hardly find a good time together these days...so this is an excellent chance to make up for the lost time.
Fahmi is still his former self...he didn't change a bit. He reminds me of our younger days...when we browsed through daily life together. No worries...only happiness and excitement along the way. We made mistakes then...but things happened. It's no use crying over a spill milk.
Five years is just too short. I wonder how the elected President of America could ever achieve anything in that short period of time. Time just flies pass us without we ever realizing it.
When I was a small child, I looked upon the sky whenever a plane flew passed over my head. I wondered, then, when will I ever be on that plane? Do I stand a slightest chance, to experience the sensation of flying? If I do, what would I be then? A scientist...travelling by air to meet fellow scientists overseas? A doctorate student on board to attending an international conference?
When I first stepped up onto a plane, I ignored all the warning signs. I didn't turn off my hand phone. I didn't tighten the seat belt when the plane was about to take off (I didn't even put the belt on) When the plane was just seconds in mid air, I looked down to the vast land under me, and muttered to myself " Sorry...my younger me. I have failed you"
My only dream is to serve the nation. I'll begin by caring for myself, taking good care of my family and my immediate relatives, and reaching out for the poor and the needy as far as I can. I'd like to inspire people...to instill confidence in them, helping them realize their true potential so they could use it to the maximum effect. But judging from my current condition, maybe it's a task too tall. A dream too far.
I think I need my rest now. It's been an incredible weekend. Maybe a weekend to remember.
Dec 7, 2009
Sunday
2:49 a.m
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)