rant.

there are 2 kinds of 'problems' to worry about, the one worth worrying for and another which just wastes your time. the one that's worth worrying for can be constructed to produce beneficial outcomes. your future, your job, your next meal. this kind of worry spurs you to be better. 

the other set of worries, perhaps, drives you into anxiety and makes you less of a person than you already are. 'where i can get the next iphone', am i ever going to find the right person, worrying that you'll never find that nicely fit shirt. 

when we mirror our problems with those who really have problems, i think we should come to realise how miniscule our 'problems' really are. it's all a matter of perspective and attitude. 

it's been a week of complaining. of hearing complaints. of different kind of whining. 

it has become sort of an annoyance to me. people begin to annoy me. 

you all need to wake the fuck up. 

cool night luke.

so, got into somewhat of a fight tonight. learned a few things along the way:
1. it would never be manly to shout across the street, "You want to fight ? I will call my brother!" when you're somewhat of a grown man.
2. you can take the hits for sure, just learn to have the blocks - time to get serious about those technical skills.
3. never rely on backup. measures are taken on your own account.
4. understand your objective, stick to it, the outcome may not be as intended, but as long as the objectives were met, all's good.
5. don't let emotions drive as always . stick to rationality.

Christmas, the artificial one.

Tis the season once again to forgive, to be jolly, to be merry and all those other christmassy things. yet, i think over the years as i've seen, the idea of Christmas has been diluted with a lot of other elements.

Yes, it is the time of Christ's birth - although by essence of truth, may not be the most accurate of dates, it proves to be a sharp reminder of the Christian discourse of God's gift to the world. A beautiful story to which I hold close to my heart.

But the idea of Christmas today, has been as I said, diluted with elements of cultural practices, economics, media development and consumerism. These elements come together this holiday season - as any other 'joyous'  celebratory occasion to 'spend, spend, spend', to buy the finest for your loved ones, to treat your loved ones with the best material goods/products in our way of expressing our love and affection to each other.

this idea is further enforced through different media outlets - movies, ads, etc. which 'teach' us on how to give, when to give, and why we give. different hollywood movie plots all teach us the art of giving and cherishing each other with the idea of Santa Claus, of gifts, toys, and presents under the Christmas tree. An idea that the things we buy with our own money should be spent on 'stuff' in exchange for someone else's happiness.

This may sound very Grinch like, yet, I think if the Grinch did steal Christmas, of the trees, of the presents, celebrations and all of the above, I think he would be doing us a favour on reflecting on what Christmas truly means. In contradictory truth, to possess nothing, yet own everything at the same time. Something to think about.

I'd like to share a story I wrote whilst I was in Melbourne on Christmas 2010, if you continue to read on:

Bill needs to make at least A$50 tonight before he finds a bed and warm shower, but if he is able to scrape about A$100, he is almost secured for a week. That is, if the manager of the place doesn’t find out – a person over the counter gives Bill a place to rest every once in awhile in this place in Port Melbourne. If he is unable to do so, he sleeps in an alley way with only a couple pieces of cardboard scraps as a blanket and bed, somewhere in Little Lonsdale.

Bill has been living in the streets for about 2 years now, with both parents having perished in a car accident 4 years ago and his partner taking everything he owns – children included – leaving Bill with a large amount of debt and with difficult circumstances. With tears in his eyes, he tells me honestly how he misses them as he stares into blank space. This is the 24^th of Dec, 2010. He has been seeking help from Centrelink to provide him some monetary assistance in starting, but is unable to do so successfully as he is unable to find a permanent place to reside. The vicious cycle continues.

All Bill can do right now is to beg for spare change along the busy areas of the city – primarily Melbourne Central – and hope for good Samaritans to pass by. Bill shares with me that he’s been abused, pissed on, lit on fire, attacked and ridiculed among other things. The hardest part, as he exclaims has to deal with the self-respect of begging. Depression spills all over Bill’s face. He is hardly able to keep his eyes focused on mine as he tells me his story.

Bill shares with me that there are many others who beg, that there are good guys and bad guys in the streets. There are those who beg to gamble again, to buy drugs, and continue living in the state that they are in. While the good guys scrape whatever they can just to make it another night in the streets.

As you listen to Bill’s story, you cannot help but feel sorry for the man. Yet, at the same time, you don’t want to show that side in order to inspire him. If you want to truly see with your own eyes, a man that’s been broken by difficult circumstances, Bill’s life would be sufficient.

Now, this story will probably see no happy ending as of yet. There are many more out there just like Bill with stories to share. Society today chooses to see these people as ‘bums’ or ‘hobos’ and perhaps, you would like to think that the moral of the story would be to think and place yourself in a person like Bill’s shoes, but that would be a very self-centred. It would change the whole direction of the story.

I believe, perhaps, this true story should make you think about these people along the streets – who have stories of brokenness, lost and despair to share. Who are indeed less fortunate, who are survivors in that very sense. 

I spent Christmas eve with Bill and Vee Vien, over a cup of hot tea and a decent conversation about how he ended up on the street, his life and so on. I am in no way attempting to elevate myself to a Saint, yet the reason to my condescending and skeptical outlook on Christmas comes from thinking about the 'dirrty and diluted' things that has turned out to be Christmas. Next day, Bill had received a blanket, but no money from me. 

I think to cap this rant/post off would be to just express how Christmas should always be about people: of friends, family and most importantly, those who have none. 

the week of humble learnings.

It was indeed a week of understanding the value of human relationships and how that translate within a business sense.

I understood the principle and gravity of honour and integrity when it came to business. although, to a degree, i am very much forming these principles, understanding and meditating on them on a higher plane, i've somewhat formed a general idea on how certain relations should work - speaking to different individuals on the matter; who have shared their thoughts and wisdom with me, i cannot thank enough.

the best advice coming from father, to challenge and take on every form of adversity with humility.

Just a little hate for this pretty world.

perhaps, you're never going to be the sharpest tool in the shed, nor the most liked person in the village.
You're never going to make through life without a couple of enemies, haters and doubters.

Perhaps, the idea is to as a wise friend always said, "stick to your guns" and I will perhaps keep firing.
Attempt to keep shining; burn out bright.

This may make me seem to hate people.

After a week of massive planning and preparation, of calls, follow ups, customers, juggling customers, meeting deadlines, dealing with people, and most of all, dealing with shit - of people, of problems, of curve balls and issues, I find myself here at 12:14 on a Friday night.

Enduring the sound of construction outside, I think about those outside tonight, with people, with alcohol, with companionship. I think about how if in the same position 2 years ago, I'd be rather disappointed to be home on a Friday night. Yet, I contemplate the weeks prior from today and all the 'noise' and the expectations needed to be met; I find solitude in my room, in my home.

To enjoy the solace of it being quiet, to not hear the sound of another person can be a peaceful thing. To not listen to their voice, to their demands, their thoughts, their response. I mean no disrespect, but at many times, I'd figured that in this world, we are all designed in some way to please others - to always meet the respect, satisfaction and happiness of another person - this is bound by ideals of friendship, love, relationship, father, son, daughter, mother, husband and wife - there are 'natural expectations' built upon the understanding of these relationships.

Of late, I've truly tried to understand the value of people, of friends. To understand that not all friends may seem to be of value. Sad but true. When I think of some friends and ponder a little more, I question this ideal. I used to think that some friends can stand the test of time by simply saying nothing for years yet remain friends. Frankly, this is true. These are friends. But in truth, I think there is no friendship. Fallacy indeed.

And tonight, in strange ways, I choose to be selfish. To exclude myself from the world and thoroughly enjoy the sound of complete nothing. My body has taken a strange turn of experiencing pain of late. Physically. It is a burden indeed. It is a strange state to be in. To be so strong, yet to be so weak. Mentally, this is difficult. Easily annoyed, I'm looking for the quietness to creep in. Somewhat reminds me the hours in Melbourne, cold nights, strong winds and pin-drop quite. I miss those now.

To find some sort of peace in absolutely nothing. No plans, obligations or people.

random words

searching for words to say, like stories i'm trying to speak,
yet nothing comes to mind, nothing but light streaks.
perhaps, it's the silence, maybe the trembling of the mind,
maybe like the tossing of waves, with you underneath.
like the ripcurls pulling you back, under the waves, it's a peaceful moment,
beneath the surface of violence, you're under the care of motion.

The man who fixed me.

When I was 12, I had this teacher - Cikgu Hilmy. He was huge, probably 250 pounds. Came to school in a motorcycle and I remembered always having to go downstairs to where he parked and helped him carry his bag to class.

He was a good teacher. He thought me music when I was 10 and Bahasa when I was 12. Jovial, charismatic and loving, Quite a man. Of the many things I remembered about him was this particular lesson he shared with the class - it stuck with me. Roughly paraphrased:

We should never look down upon those people who 'undesirable' jobs like your rubbish collector or 'city sweeper'. Characters we so often take for granted. For they are really performing honourable jobs. Honest jobs.

My car had a got shitfaced few days back, nothing major, but a simple fix me up on the bumper. I took this photo thinking about what he had said and looked back at my life in high school.
Standing in the workshop, I thought to myself, these are the guys who probably never did well in school, never gave shit about the books, probably bullied you, probably were deviant, probably coming from troubled back grounds, probably never really wanted to excel, and all the other negative probabilities that swarmed my mind.

Yet, as I stood there looking at this man repairing my car, with pure dedication and focus, ensuring he gets the job done at the highest of levels, it reminded me of how we need each other. How even if you make success your own, drive your own Mercedes, you'd need Cap Lap Joe here to fix her up for you.

In the end, respect all , respect errbody.

Kong Kong and Po Po

I post a lot of pictures about my grandparents for a multitude of reasons. Maybe it's the fact that for most Oriental families, much of our upbringing can be attributed to their constant care and concern over ours. 

Their job never really ends at their children, but their children's children (us). Yet, in many ways, I myself am unable to repay them for a lot of the things they've done. It was their savings that allowed me the opportunity to travel in Australia. If it wasn't for grandma, my times table would be total utter shit. If it wasn't for Grand-dad, i wouldn't have been poured on with good wisdom. 

It was grandma's birthday last week. We surprised with a proposed dinner to Shangri-La, but what went down was a nice dinner at Aunt's place. There is no better gift than family together. Even for a few hours. For a meal. Cousins from Australia presented with a call and wishes. 

Grand-uncle joined in for the fun as well. Thinking about family does bring strange warm fuzzy feelings into my heart. I strange feeling of being mellowed and stranded at the same time. Ironically, family isn't easy. 

Keeping family together takes work. Often, too much work. It's easy to offend, easy to ignore, easy to take offence. 

But, in all things, we must look beyond faults, beyond hurt and proceed to move on together. It's all a journey, a process in which unitedly becomes abundantly more worthwhile.

Grafa

today i found fixie heaven. if coffee was made there, i'd go somewhere else. 

To you people.

it's a very simple philosophy,
if there are people who make you feel lousy, avoid them, or in other words, fuck em.
 or even better, tell them to fuck off and die.

yet even better , tell them
I wish you well and have a great day.