May 26, 2015

the red bridge

There’s this left-turn junction at a 3 lane expressway near my workplace that is always congested every morning during the peak hour. The reason is simple: high volume of vehicles required to slow down to turn to that junction. This is exacerbated with the fact that the junction is made up entirely of a slight inclining bridge.

In an ideal situation, one will have to keep to the left lane (and slow down) to make a turn to the inclining bridge. It can be dangerous to turn left from the middle or right most lane of an expressway. But this logic – like in any other similar traffic condition – does not bide well with most drivers in the area. Inconsiderate drivers will just fucking stop at the middle lane, and shove into the queue or directly into the junction. If one can detect infrared from the amount of curses dispensed from a person’s mouth, that area would have been a hotspot glowing in white.

I use the left lane all the time, and I have to contend with this shit whenever I’m on time at work (I’m usually earlier than everyone else, you see…). I must say, I have grown quite inured to it and most of the time, I’d just let those bastards shove into the left lane without any fuss.

But a couple days ago, a luxury MPV (or a minivan, some may call it) speed-shoved into my lane (without switching on the indicator) that it almost grazed my car. My quick reflex saved me an accident and possibly a homicide in the area. I managed to get ahead of the MPV and saw through my rearview mirror a middle-aged balding skinny fuck behind the wheel, who had an odd shaped head like he was clamped too hard with a pair of forceps in the head when he was delivered into the world at a substandard hospital. After a round of customary cussing that only myself could hear, my rage subsided and I continued my way towards Company T and into its parking lot.

Took my time to find a good lot, and then I walked towards my lab. That was when I saw that soapbox MPV again, parked near the building entrance with its engine running. The toxic avenger looalike bald-headed skinny fuck was in there, keeled over in the driver seat. So the guy must had been having a heart attack which prompted him to drive like an ass! I then rushed towards the van pronto, broke its window, dragged the misshapen guy out of his seat and proceeded to give him a CPR (I snuck in a couple of punches to his face in the process). I saved his life and he woke up in stupor to a bloody nose and a broken window.

Alright, I made the CPR part up. He was slumped in his seat alright, but not from heart attack but from exhaustion. Probably had a night out romping with a cheap prostitute. The guy was sleepy on wheels, which made him drove like he’s on a suicide mission. That fucker shouldn’t have been born, and yet he’s a manager in Company T. Cruel world.

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May 18, 2015

school nowadays – teachers

I can’t help but notice, how lame school teachers have become nowadays.

In my daughter’s school, teachers do not seem to plan what they teach. An example would be the art lessons. More often than not, my daughter was asked to bring some vegetables (potatoes, okra beans, et al) for her carve & print art lessons on the next school day. If you’re a working parent, you should understand how hard that request is especially if the school’s in the afternoon session. Preparation like this involves a trip to the market/hypermart, and being at work you know, kinda impedes that convenience. Why can’t they fucking plan it in advance like say, a week before? How hard is it to plan for something 1 week ahead??

And you might think that this is only about a specific teacher for the art lessons. But no. Her language classes also often require her to print out mundane items like ‘meals of the day’ or ‘animals that have backbones’, to be submitted the next day as a project. How about that? Fucking retarded because it is usually the parents who have to find those pictures/materials and print from the internet. How the hell is that going to help my kid to understand anything? If it is a project, shouldn’t it involve some level of planning and thorough involvement to make it [the project work] look good? And what about those students whose household couldn’t fucking afford a printer or a computer? Back in my schooldays, we had to scour heaps of recycled magazines, put everything together with glue & colored paper. One could seriously tell that efforts were put into our work and anything less than that, will be given a fail.

At first I thought this is just happening in my daughter’s school, you know… like maybe the school is the only shithole. But after calibrating with friends who also have kids schooling, it seems to be a norm nowadays for teachers to ask for last minute prep favors and without proper planning.

This, is not helping my kid to learn about commitment and I’m starting to wonder, if shit is going to get worse from here. I don’t know man. Just, what kind of crap have we been feeding the teachers, that they are like what they are today?

Teachers back during my schooling days used to be a bunch of respected individuals with deep passion for teaching (on top of being badasses, which I’ve written about before). They were tough… yes, madcap… or psychotic even… but one thing that is indisputable about them, is that they teach kosher stuff. They plan what they are going to teach, and they execute their plans well. They’re far from the kind of teachers we see today who do not know what proper planning is like a headless chicken.

So why the hell are we celebrating Teachers’ Day for? Not every teacher deserves that. I say we should fucking 86 the Teachers’ Day, and make it a day for us to fucking tell them what needs to be changed. It would have been actually useful as we’d get some remote chance to make things better, than to appreciate a bunch of shitbags whose overbearing self-glorification knows no boundary.
Naa

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May 6, 2015

My wife’s hometown

…is a shithole.

I’ve been married for 13 years and the one thing that grinds my gears about my marriage has got to be my wife’s hometown, Pantai Remis (PR). Most of you probably haven’t heard of this place. For those of you who have, you probably had known it from the infamous oil spill incident near this shithole many years ago. It is located in the state of Perak, about a good 40km away from the port of Lumut. (If you still have no idea where it is, you should just swallow a box of thumbtacks.)

It is a small town with less than 20,000 inhabitants, built around the fishing industry (and later palm-oil). Initially when the place was first established, there were just shanties built by some fishermen lying around this coastal area along an old highway which linked Lumut to other more civilized parts of Perak (Taiping, Ipoh, et al). Population here then swelled because these fishermen lacked of entertainment, and PR became this unofficial rest-stop for truck drivers looking for a good meal along the highway. Truck drivers soon got integrated with the locals, and boom! This shithole was born. Despite being such a cibai small town, it now has a few sets of traffic light adorning its usually-empty crossroads without serving any purpose other than jamming up the high volume of vehicles plying the highway. To make things worse, the trucks narrow the shit down even further (yes, trucks still stop here). Whenever there’s a holiday, shit gets escalated a few folds and makes this place a jam-fest like it’s in the streets of Bangkok.

The air here is always foul with the smell from the fishermen’s jetties, pigsties and farms around the area. Garbage is strewn everywhere and the roads here have more potholes than people on the surface of this planet. Most of the drains here are clogged with leachate from unregulated small-medium-home factories in the community and uncollected garbage dumps. At certain time of the year, the place will be choked with smog from excessive incense and agricultural burning (from the palm-oil estate). Flies thrive here like hippies in America and they hold free will gathering anywhere they like. There’s at least one blackout every week, and having a generator set in a building is compulsory.

The people here are mostly fucked up too. Majority are Chinese, with a big percentage of them loafers, thugs and gangsters. These social garbage and delinquents swarm around PR town on motorcycles without wearing helmets and without regards to the traffic rules (which worsens the already fucked up traffic). Those who aren’t thugs or gangsters and born with some sense in them, would leave the town to seek for a better future, just like my wife (you’d see shitloads of cars with foreign plates jamming this place up during Chinese New Year). There’s 1 police station in PR, and it does nothing other than having a building/presence here (occasional roadblocks, mostly during Ramadhan month, if you know what I mean). That’s why the community here has its own voluntary neighborhood watch committee to keep things together. Rumor mongering is rampant, because every housewife knows everybody and their prying eyes become their source of information to fuel their daily gossip with equally nosy neighbors. Success stories and wealth become trophies for tales, and often leads to desperation. That is why the people here cheat/con one another for their own selfish gain, and this is as common as fleas to a stray dog.

I know I can always stay away from this place like a plaque, but this is where the problem lies. In relative to its distance from Penang, it is not far enough for my family to defer any trip there. Excuse is harder to fabricate when the hometown is this near and that put me in such predicament that no words can ever describe. Every 2 – 3 weeks, I’ll have to drive my wife back to her hometown (a 1.75 hr journey) and promptly drive back (another 1.75 hr journey) because I couldn’t stand spending an extra minute there. End of the weekend, I’d make the to-fro journey again to get her back to Penang. This has put extra mileage to my car, and that was why I changed to a hybrid vehicle 3 years ago to cut my losses.

The only thing that this place did right for me, was to churn out someone as decent as my wife. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have met her and have this great daughter/family together. Hell, I’d probably be married to terrible bitch from another planet, which would have been way worse. A decent wife with a shitty hometown is hands-down a better trade off than a fucked up bitch with a good hometown. Comes with the territory, I suppose. Nothing’s perfect.

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April 22, 2015

dilated pupils

I was at Nando’s the other day for lunch with my colleagues. That particular outlet, has this one weird shit layout where tables are conjoined and partitioned with a really small divider. So you’re practically seating at the same table with some strangers.

That day, I happened to be the guy seated next to that divider, and I could see that the company next to our table was a bunch of schoolgirls no older than 17 years old. The one closest to me I noticed, was this seemingly fair girl with a short hair. She kinda gave me a good vibe, because she was wearing something decent, and her hair was not dyed shit brown or something. That, in my book of decency, enough to be ranked as an OK level. But that was until I saw her eyes. Her pupils were dilated like she’s fucked up, and it was really disturbing.

Then I looked at the rest of her friends, they all had these similar dilated pupils that made them look like the bunch of vampires from ’30 days of night’. Just what the fuck’s going on!? Well, the answer (I later found out) is ‘contact lenses’. Apparently, it is a fad nowadays to wear ‘dilated pupils contact lenses’. One of my niece had those too (as I later noticed), and I have stopped making eye contact with her ever since.

I don’t understand, why would anyone regard dilated pupils as attractive? Dilated pupils are often associated with people having disease or high on drugs. And how is that going to help them gain a mating partner? Oh that’s right, they’re trying to attract equally fucked up hairless pussies that look like Justin Bieber nowadays. Maybe that’ll work if that’s the kind they wanted to attract. Maybe those scrawny Bieber wannabes like girls with dilated pupils (a sign that they’re drugged and therefore an easy score? Makes sense…) and that’s their mating ritual which we normal folks won’t understand.

I had the most uneasy lunch at Nando’s that day.

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April 13, 2015

Qing Ming sucks

I am never one who believes in God or heaven or hell. I’d like to refer myself as an Atheist sometimes… but I am not sure really, for I don’t fucking know what I am. Most of the time, I’d follow what people do, more as a tradition than an affirmation of faith… and I do that out of respect to the people who had brought me up and wanted me to believe in all of those stuffs.

One of the many things that I had promised my late mom that I’d do, is to follow the Qing Ming tradition. If you do not know what ‘Qing Ming’ is, fucking read this please to save me some lengthy explaining.

In short, Qing Ming is the Chinese Halloween but way less cool without all those fancy cosplays. It’s a serious affair in the Chinese culture and people tend to frolic less during the Qing Ming month out of respect. It happens for the entire month (or something like that) instead of just 1 day, and everyone has to haul ass to the actual grave or niche of his/her ancestor/mom/dad/grandparent/[anyone] to fucking clean them on the prayer day. During the prayer day, family members will burn huge amount of incense, effigies, paper money, offerings, food, et al to the departed one and pray for good fortune/health through some supernatural intervention I suppose. Besides all that, family members also take the opportunity to get together, so that they’d live harmoniously in this mortal world under the supervision of the ghostly eyes of the dead ancestor…

Anyway, as you can probably tell, this has been a stressful affair for me. I just couldn’t stand the traffic and smoke and assholes elbowing their way to their ancestors’ graves, and I’m 100% against the idea of burning stuff to appease the dead. Trust me when I say this, when I burn the traditional paper money and gold ingots for my mom, a small part of me dies together with her, and a small part of my soul gets sucked up into the hot updraft of air of tinder and smoke. I just couldn’t understand why would she need all these worldly material in her underworld? The very idea of money or wealth is to court happiness, which is associated to the feelings a mortal has. If she’s already dead (and became a spirit?), why the fuck would she have feelings for these stuff then? She’d be free of all these confinements (sufferings), and all we needed to do is to leave her the fuck alone and let her rest in peace already.

If this is for remembering her, then won’t I be achieving the same effect just by looking at her photos? and without burning anything? (and I can do it anytime, right?) That’s why I think Qing Ming is ridiculous and suck. It might have been a good tradition in medieval times, but not for the 21st century. I’d say, someone should start thinking about making it less damaging to the environment by planting trees instead of digging more graves. We’d just grow a tree out of a dead person’s body, and the dead’s children can congregate under the tree during Qing Ming… just picnicking under its shade, running around and chasing the family dog. From the dead, grows a living tree that serves the same purpose of remembrance (you can put a sign like those you see in a national park or something, only that it reads “Herein lies John Doe, who fries killer fried rice…” instead of some scientific name of a tree). And instead of a smoky graveyard, you’d get a park full of trees and happy people having a day off. (dogs running around too, their turds nourishing the trees in a healthy ecosystem of happiness and rainbows).

My world is so different than everyone’s… I told my mom with my thoughts the other day during Qing Ming, that next year, I’m going to remember her with just fruits… And I ask for her blessing all the same if she could hear me…

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