Please use Gtalk.

Okay, I know a lot of you already use it, so this post is not directed to you.

But for those who don't, I'm begging of you, make the switch. Its not that hard. I think Gmail is the least invasive of all the email providers, (meaning they ask you the least questions). The process is fast and relatively painless.

If you need more reasons, gmail is run by google which stands for not being evil. Windows live messenger is run by Microsoft, the giant evil corporation that was slapped with a bunch of anti trust suits in Europe.

Gtalk is infinitely more stable, meaning it will be less likely to dc you in the middle of a conversation. So if you use ixora's line, you know what to do. (Hint hint) =P

GTalk's installer is really small, meaning it can be installed really quickly on any new computer, or freshly reformatted one. Windows live messenger is like 50 MB.

GTalk saves all your chats in your mailbox, meaning you can access it anytime.

Gmail owns hotmail in every aspect.

I can go on, but I really don't want to sound like a long winded google fanboy.

So switch already! Then I'd be able to talk to you people a lot easier. Oh and if you have Gtalk, but haven't added me, please do. blad3wing@gmail.com.

Ten jew berry mud.

I need help.

If any of you happen to know anyone who studies geography, could you please give me a heads up? Actually, if you know anyone in public universities, it would be really nice if your could ask them if any of their friends study geography.

I'm badly in need of a consult for my FYP. Successful leads will earn dinner on me. =)

Thanks.

Some hippie article in some newspaper.

Picture of a newspaper article condemning the Vietnam war.

Swearing in a newspaper. Didn't think I'd see the day. lol

Yes, a political debate happened in Malaysia. Guess what? I don't care.

Okay, so I have gotten a good number of people getting excited over the debate that happened between Anwar and the information minister, and they were all somewhat puzzled by my lack of interest. And because I don't really see a reason to be surprised at all, I'm writing this.

What happened in the recent election wasn't a political tsunami to me. Sure, I got all excited over the results, but that was because I didn't think that something like that would happen. Once reality set in, however, the outlook changed somewhat for me. I see Malaysia going back to the way it was eventually.

Personally, the change that everyone is talking about is overhyped. The reason I say this is because all the avenues that allowed for Mahathir to rule the way he did still exist. They were not exercised this election around, for one reason for another, but I really see no reason why the oppression of the past will not return in the near future. (In about 2 years if you believe our holy leader)

My personal sentiments are not particularly patriotic, and thats because I'm pretty cynical about this. The odds don't look good for the pro-'competent democracy' camp.

And yes, I am getting very tired of all the mudslinging that has been going on. The conspiracy theories are all very interesting, but there is only so much of slander and name calling that I can take.

I suppose the difference between me and the rest of the Malaysian blogsphere is that I never really paid much interest to all this to begin with, so I have very little interest to lose.

Meh

Castfire, you suck.

Whoever you are, wherever you might be based. The fact that you have somehow gotten the escapist to show all its zero punctuation in your prissy format is really pissing me off.

Because 99% of the time it doesn't load. Yeah, sure, maybe I have some settings wrong. But if you player doesn't work on my browser, then it sucks. Because then it wouldn't work on many other browsers seeing that I don't go tweaking around with my settings and everything is basically on default.

I don't care if your's is faster or is more efficient or is sharper than the others. I hate it, coz it is broken.

Can't we just have things in youtube? God damn it.

Like a little boy.

Thats me when they announced Diablo 3.

Blood haze on Centre Court

I stared at the other end of the court, glancing at the icy composure of my opponent. He had good reason to be calm. He was two sets up and on his way to winning the third very comfortably. Shoulders slightly hunched, legs apart, he stood ready to return whatever I could throw at him. It was almost like he was challenging me to give him my best shot. I grasped the ball in my sweaty palm, trying to tame my nerves. I was serving to stay in the game, and I knew that I needed to come up with something special to get past the legend that stood before me.

But I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. It never is against him. Three before me had tried and failed spectacularly, every one of them sent home with their tails between their legs. And I wouldn’t even say that I’m particularly good at the game. I was fast becoming one of those Kournikovas. Plenty of potential, but never actually gets there. And it was pissing me off. The thought of what I would read in the tabloids tomorrow made me want to fling my racket at the unsuspecting cameraman that sat at the side of the court. I knew it wasn’t his fault, but he worked in the same newspapers as those nasty writers, and that made them accomplices.

I stared at the sky for a moment, as if hoping for diving intervention. As I leveled my gaze again, I saw it. The one thing that could rile me up like nothing else can. My grip on the ball and racket tightened reflexively, my fingernails digging into my palms. My breathing quickened and my pulse started racing. I didn’t really feel like playing anymore at that point, but I knew that I needed to see the match through. I wanted to throw up on the grass I was standing on. And any moment now, the umpire was going to ask me to get on with the game. Further delay would get me into a lot of trouble.

So I served. But this time, it was different. It was like all the passion and festering frustration that I felt for the figure that now sat in the stands was channeled into the ball. My opponent threw himself across the court, but to no avail. He didn’t have a chance. Ace.

I wasn’t thinking anymore. I just played. Shuffling across the baseline to the other side of the court, I tossed the ball. I could feel the ball bounce cleanly off the strings as my overhead swing made contact. Another screamer, but he was much too good to be aced twice in a row. He was at full stretch as he returned the service. Seeing my chance, I moved forward. The ball came back short and I smashed it into the ground, making sure it would second bounce somewhere in the spectator stands.

Thirty - love. The crowd was stirring a little. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my chest. Without realizing it, I was gritting my teeth. I felt like I had a demon in me and I was having some kind of blood haze. A state that can only be corrected with liberal swathes of blood-letting. Whatever I saw just now was still there, unknowingly baiting me to new levels of aggression.

I didn't like what I was becoming, but I didn't really have a choice. Struggling to keep my composure, I sent another stinging serve across, leaving my opponent dumbfounded. I was back in it.

Now all I needed to do was not to kill him literally. And hope the bloodhaze passes before it causes any lasting damage.

Rumblings of doom.

The grassland was a picture of peace, the rolling hills covered by soft tufts of green. A soft wind blew across the plains, scattering the dandelion seeds into a cloud of yellow. Jackson sighed. "The calm before the storm," he thought to himself. The day almost seemed too perfect to spoil, yet he knew it would be.

He shifted about in his suit of armour. The metal plates had served him well over the years, and despite the shining sheen having disappeared to be replaced by dents and scratches, he still wore them with pride. His shield was equally battered, the metal edges notched my the blows of war axes. Jackson took a deep breath and looked around him. His friends and blood brothers stood beside him, all similarly suited and armed, staring at the space ahead of them. No one said anything. There was no need to. They were all waiting.

A distant rumbling signalled the end of the wait. They all knew what the sound meant. The horde was approching. As they drew closer, the sound of the wardrums being beatenbecame clearer, the bloodcurling screams of their green skinned adverseries growing louder.

It wasn't the first time he found himself facing a sight so terrifying. He had fought battles before, and he knew what would entail this one. And while he had always faced such a situation with the grim determination of a patroit defending his home, it was different this time. The sounds of war were no longer a rallying cry for him. They sounded like a death knell. He could tell, just by hearing the sounds before a battle, if it would be won or lost. And he knew it would take a miracle of sorts for him to come out of this one triumphant.

The signs were there. His instincts had spoken.

And still, he refused to listen.

Don't want to think about it.

I think I've just reached a new phase in life. One where I'm willing to let go. Control is nice, but its not always the best thing to try and do. Some situations really are like clay; the harder you grasp, the more of it slips out.

I'm not sure if I know what I'm doing. I don't normally sweep problems under the carpet. Not willingly, anyway. But even as I do that now, I don't really think I care that I'm breaking one of the most sacred of rules that I live by.

If its important enough, I normally grab the problem by the scruff of the neck and try and wrestle it into submission. My current response seems to be to let it be and go have tea while it resolves itself. Naturally, I'd butt in once in a while to steer it along. But I'm almost resigned to the idea that the problem is beyond me and trying is pointless. Its not only pointless, it will only make things worse.

I'm not used to doing this. The sense of helplessness is quite crippling. At least in the past I busied myself with throwing myself against an unmovable stone wall. Even if it didn't achieve anything, it gave me the illusion that I was doing something about the problem.

Now, I shrug at the stone wall, turn around and plant a tree or two. Ultimately, the latter is the more productive, but it sure is harder to do. The offending wall chews at my consciousness everytime I dig a hole or water a sapling.

I don't know what it is. Its not anger or annoyance or depression. Maybe its much worse. Maybe its defeatism.

Random fiction.

The shouting from within the chamber was too much to bear for Snayph. He had to walk out; another minute of that rabble about the most inconsequential things would have snapped his nerve and driven him berserk. And that would have been really ugly. Flexing his considerable muscles, he strode towards the window. Unlatching the lock, he pushed it open, admitting the cool evening breeze. He could see most of the city from where he stood; such was the size and height of the building that he worked from. People feared his organization, and for good reason. They were the true Kings of Alanar, not Cedric III. Their military arm dwarfed the Alanarian defenders. They had superior numbers, better weapons, better training, and most importantly, better intelligence. That would be a given, since his organization started out as the espionage division of the government. Normally, spies content themselves with the trade of information. They uncover and sell secrets, make a nice tidy sum and then move on to the next juicy piece of news.

But Jackson Borelaran wasn't a typical spy. He had big ambitions, and the skill to back them up. With careful manipulation and a generous stroke of luck, Jackson turned the organization from a shadow at the mercy of the King to the shadow that had a dagger at the King's throat. But he remained true to the artform that brought him such power, and declined to take the throne for himself. He contented himself to rule from the behind the curtain, interfering only when he felt he needed to. He did however, surround himself with advisors, his shortcomings in administrative matters quite obvious to him. Those very advisors were bickering in his chamber now, not being able to decide if the city needs to do something about the rat infestation.

Snayph was no politician. In fact, he had a distinct distaste for politicians, believing them to be all talk and no action. He was born into a farm household that observed strict discipline and little room for negotiations. His father had taught him to respect authority, and those lessons served him well when he joined that shadow regime's training academy. He graduated a firm teacher favourite, earning praise and prophecies of greatness from those he had worked with. He quickly made it up the ranks till finally, he sat at the council as Jackson's strong arm.

He didn't know why he had been summoned to the council in the first place. He was only ever summoned when his presence was absolutely necessary. Today, they were talking about a rat problem, hardly the kind of situation that Snayph would consider a security crisis. So, in the confusion of all the shouting in the chamber, he slipped out to the relative quiet of the hall outside.

"You think I wouldn't notice you leave the room, Snayph?" The sudden emergence of a voice from behind him startled Snayph. He spun around to see the dimunitive figure of Jackson standing behind him. He was hunched as always, and walked with a funny gait. He had picked up that habit some years ago to lull his enemies into a false sense of security when facing him. The trickery served him well.

Blink

1. A reflex of your eye to clear out dust particles and irritants that have settled on your cornea. Characterized by rapid opening and closing of eyelids.

2. A metaphor used to describe a very short period of time.

3. A term popularized by Blizzard to denote teleportation over short distances. First appeared in the Night Elf Warden. (I think)

4. A book about the 'power of thinking without thinking'. Provides insight to the human subconscious.

5. Shorthand for a very annoying piece of a Magic deck. Designed as a mostly defensive tool, it became one of the most annoying things that I came up against at the Magic Nationals.

This house believes that All-Asians motions pwned AUDC motions.

I looked at the motions for both tournaments. The Asians motions were mostly brilliant. Nicely balanced, and potentially explosive motions. AUDC motions were dry, political, and symptomatic of the mindset that brought to the birth of the AUDC in the first place. They had 3 motions related to conditional aid. 3! Sure, they were to be debated under different contexts, but at least show some form of imagination. There is so much more to the art of argument than just world issues.

Here are a few of the Asians motions that actually got me wide eyed and wanting to debate.

THBT humanity will not reach the 22nd Century. Duh. Of course I'd love to debate this. I've been building the case file since I began forming logical thoughts.

THW not eat whales and sharks. How is that for a motion. I'd love to do this value judgment.

THBT standardized testing is the enemy of learning. Anti-establishment motion! And totally related to students at that!

TH prefers need based higher education scholarships to affirmative action in admissions. Malaysian university quota systems!

THW require all elementary and secondary schools to include debating in the curriculum. Need I say more?

The semifinal theme was Buddhism! Dude!

THBT the Dalai Lama uses his position for personal gain.
THBT all Buddhist orders should ordain woman as monks.
THBT non-violent Buddhist social movements do not lead to social change.

How cool is that? How many people know enough about Buddhism to debate? No one really cares about what Buddhism stands for, and it has never been a debate before. The second and third motion would require at least some basic understanding of the workings of Buddhism. Which is totally cool considering how everyone seems to need to have a basic understanding of Christianity and Islam in debates before this, but never about any other religion.

The south Asians seem to be having all the damn fun. =S

Sigh.

The male crisis.

I have spent the greater part of my 'stare into space' time wondering if the male crisis actually exists or not, and I always find something better to do soon after. The question simmers until I come across something that will remind me of this nagging concern. Every so often, a social commentary piece will appear before me and ask me to wonder again.

Men like damsels in distress. They like to have a clearly defined role and to stick to it. I suppose when they swoop in to rescue a poor helpless waif from a burnt lightbulb, they feel needed and are imbued with some sense of purpose. Which explains why many women respond accordingly. But then again, the wave of feminism seems to have changed some of that, and strong independent women have come along and lived quite happily. To that, some men have responded, changing some old ways to fit with the new woman. But only some.

The problem with this situation is that the two scenarios are complete opposites of one another. And I have witnessed some clashes between the two and it can get quite ugly. And it has made it just that much harder for people to hook up. I suppose with the dissolving of social class barriers to marriage in most places around the world, something else will have to take its place.

Remember that typical single, but approaching 40 woman griping about how all the good men are either gay or married? Well, thats because their selection pool is the minority. I suspect there are more women happy to embrace the new empowered female identity than there are men willing to put up with it. There is now an inherent imbalance between the two. And old fashioned, archaic men who insist on having a subservient woman are making up for the deficit in the number of women in their pool by buying their brides from overseas. How better to control something than to be able to say that you own it? (by the merit of you having bought it).

Those are the extremes. Then there are those that straddle the fences. Some that have decided that they want the best of both worlds. And they change their mind all they time. Finding a level of independence that you are comfortable with and sticking to it is a perfectly reasonable way of straddling the line. But flip flopping from one end of the scale to the other is going to get you nowhere. You cannot be helpless and dependent one minute, and dominant and in total control the next. Thats like having a mild case of multiple personalities.

I touched something similar in my feminist's worst nightmare post. You simply cannot call yourself a feminist if you enjoy subjecting yourself to sexist ideas.

Admittedly, most people never actually 'think so much' about something as petty as this. But I think the problem is real. Realizing who you are, what you stand for, and what you want in life is more important than people are willing to admit.

Random rant.

Okay, lets just get through the usual motions. I need to put up my usual disclaimers here. I'm not talking about anyone in particular, or any one experience in particular. This is a random rant brought on by what I suspect is a hormonal imbalance fueled by some insecurities and some disturbing revelations. So if you think I'm talking about you, I'm not. Don't perasaan.

For some reasons, there are activities that are considered universally enjoyable by humans, and young humans in their twenties in particular. So the general perception is that people who do not enjoy the same things that everyone else enjoys is a repressed loser. It is inconceivable for the majority that their favourite pastimes are not enjoyed by others.

I suppose its because the enjoyment of these activities is almost primeval. (no, I know what you are thinking. I'm not talking about sex) Since our primeval instincts are the ones that we can most readily identify with, it becomes almost blasphemous to live on the idea that there are some people out there whose neurons are networked in such a way that makes such experiences unpleasant instead of orgasmic. (Again, I'm not talking about sex. Its a figure of speech)

At this point, most of you are probably wishing that I get to the bloody point and say what I have to say. The funny thing is, I feel like I'm being bound by some literary chains that are telling me that my writing is probably going to alienate people from me. But then again, what I'm railing about all this while is so ingrained into the observable society that I'll probably be written off as a bitter loser who just doesn't get it. And as much as I would like to say that I do get it, no one will believe me, because the assumption is that, if I did understand, I wouldn't be writing this post in the first place. Confusing isn't it? Circular logic normally is.

Let me first introduce you to pet peeve number one. Alcohol. Actually, its more like getting high in general. I think this is where the problem is the worst. Sure, drinkers respect people who don't drink, but the respect comes from the assumption that there are external factors that are stopping the person from drinking. 'Religion says cannot' is a favourite, followed closely by 'parents won't approve'. Drinkers tend to assume that barring all repressive cultural influence, non-drinkers will be downing shots like there is no tomorrow. In a sense, non-drinkers are prudes. Its like how I tend to assume that given free will, Asian children will not allow their parents to dictate every aspect of their lives. I know its an unfair assumption to make, and in the same way, assuming that a non-drinker is lying when he or she says 'I don't like the feeling of getting high' is unfair. It won't stop them from thinking that though.

The same reasoning applies to clubbing. I have found people who genuinely dislike loud thumping music and flashing lights. And one common complaint that I have heard from them is that everyone else seems to think that they are losers with no life. Clubbers cannot even begin to understand why anyone would not want to sway rhythmically to catchy beats. (Yes, I'm trying very hard to be nice, as is evident in my choice of words). Again, in this case, people who don't subscribe to that school of thought are written off as pussies who don't dare give it a go. At risk of contextualizing this a little too much, I have tried it out. And I can conclude that it blows. Probably not as much as, say being held captive by a World War 2 Japanese general. But as something that I would willingly put myself through, it ranks pretty low.

Yes, I'm being judgmental, and a lot of you will be up in arms and pointing your fingers at someone else, trying very hard to convince yourself that you would never do such a thing. Here is the kicker : You Do. And it not a particularly bad thing, I do it too. I admitted one scenario in which I make liberal assumptions about the history and reasoning of an entire demographic group and come up with conclusions that are likely to be as untrue as they are unfair. If you think that you don't, thats because you have convinced yourself that you believe in the politically correct opinion. Thats lying to yourself.

And yes, I have just made many assumptions about you, dear readers. I am in actual fact, ranting about myself, which isn't really a smart thing to do and an even less smart thing to admit to doing. But I am having such a blast writing this very convoluted post.

And now I'm all out of ideas. So I bid you adieu.

Depressing truth - food being wasted

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/7389351.stm

5500 chickens thrown away a day?

1.3 million pots of yogurt disposed of in a day?

That is just one country.

=(

Empowerment?

Call me old fashioned, but I find the ideas of female empowerment to be a little strange. There are aspects of some feminist movements that don't really make any sense to me.

I forgot where I read it, but one article once claimed that women will only be truly empowered if they are truly equal to men. Meaning they get to do whatever men do, and not be judged for it. The more provocative of the ideas behind that theory is that women should be able sleep around, wear whatever they want, and feel good about doing it. In a very convoluted kind of way, it does make some sense. Not making assumptions about a person's morality and way of life based on their lifestyle choices is giving that person the benefit of the doubt. That entails a certain level of respect for that person's autonomy, and ultimately, a recognition of individuality.

So, some women have gone out of their way to prove that point. I'm not sure that I fully understand the point that they are trying to make, but it is something that I can let slide. The funny thing is, some people are using the same argument to justify TV shows in the US that are clearly demeaning to women.

I was reading this book recently (I forgot the title, I forgot the author) about the direction that the female consciousness was taking as a whole. The first chapter talked about this show called 'Girls gone Wild' that featured very happening girls flashing for the cameras, all in the name of getting the special GGW T-shirt and hat. The author visited the set and found the girls clamouring for a chance to show themselves off the the rest of the country. That show has achieved brand recognition, and everywhere the crew goes, the girls turn up in droves. One particularly attractive one masturbated for the camera.

When asked why they were doing this, the standard reply was, "Its just a little bit of fun". More articulate girls then justified the show by using the above argument of empowerment. They say that they are just doing as forward thinking feminism encourages them to.

There are important differences. Actually, there is one overwhelming obvious difference; the end goal. The feminists were doing this for themselves. They had sex because they wanted to have sex. They showed cleavage because it made them feel good. The intentions were selfish. It was me, me and me. Their ego was all that mattered.

The GGW girls are not doing it for their own pride now are they? They are doing it to please the guys, the kind of work that a stripper does. I don't have anything against stripping to make a living, but you can't exactly say that it is empowering now can you? How exactly is doing something that panders to the whims of others empowering? Unless you mean those manipulative housewives who manage to stroke their husbands ego, but have him by his balls at the same time. But thats a different scenario altogether.

Putting yourself in Hustler and Loaded, knowing full well what men are thinking when they see those pictures is not empowerment. Its neo-slavery.

This guy makes me feel lame.

In a good way, of course. Strange how stimuli for me to do something with my life only seems to be coming to me as I approach my final year. Makes me a rue all the lost time.

Oh well, there is always the rest of my life. =)

It shouldn't matter.

Breathe. Exhale. You'll be alright.

I thought I hated Chelsea.

I did. I thought it was the club that I hated. But now I know that I hate only one person. Didier Drogba.

He is the very embodiment of all that is wrong with humanity. He is petty, vindicative and such a bitch that a teen queenbee will be hard pressed to out-bitch him. If it wasn't for his incredible skill with the football, I don't think anyone would even put up with him.

Micheal Ballack probably hates him. Referees probably hate him too. I mean when you get some really ostentatious, muscle bound giant in your face everytime you make a slightly debatable decision, I think you would get annoyed too.

Most of all, he is arrogant. He must have his way, or he will kick up a big fuss. It is the same kind of behaviour that we see on Super Sweet 16. If someone kills his football career, I'm sure he will be able to find work at some Ivorian soap opera. He is plenty talented in that area. Some argue that he has a right to be arrogant. That doesn't change the fact that he doesn't have to be. We generally don't see Ronaldo or Fabregas make a complete pain of themselves. I remember them because of their football. I remember Drogba because he makes himself such a pain in the neck.

He is one of those people that think his abilities should compensate for everything. Maybe to Chelsea, it does. As long as he keeps scoring, they will put up with his crap. But every neutral I know seems to think that Drogba can shove the football up his arse.

Benitez was an idiot for starting a war of words with him. Drogba isn't worth anyone's time, especially not a manager's. But I think that outburst only underlines the contempt that Rafa has for Drogba. I'm sure he wished he can say everything that I am writing here in a press conference and smile as every journalist in the room nods in recognition of the truth that no one says out in the open. But because he can't character assassinate Drogba the way that I am doing now, he does the next best thing. He attacks the footballer's character on pitch and calls him a cheat.

Chelsea isn't evil. There are plenty of good people there. On the surface, at least. But one Drogba is enough to turn the club into Satan's vessel.

Disebabkan setitik nira, rosak susu sebelanga. Perfect way to describe this.