mookie's world of random imajination

vtech massacre

2007-04-19T18:15:00.000+08:00

a korean student at viriginia tech university went on a rampage and killed 33 people, including himself.

at about 7.15am, for reasons unknown, he went to a dormitory and shot a black girl and her mentor, who tried to protect her against the shooter.

he then returned to his dormitory and compiled a package which was subsequently sent out to NBC, incuding several dozen pictures of himself posing angrily with guns and knives, as well as video clips of himself reciting from a 1800-word manifesto, depicting angst and hatred for people who "vandalized my heart, raped my soul and torched my conscience".

after posting the package, he continued with his massacre, going through the classrooms in norris hall and relentlessly killing every person in sight. traumatic and disoriented students and lecturers tried everything they could possible think of to survive, from heroically using their own bodies as shields for their students, to pushing tables against the classroom doors, to playing dead on the floor.

the monumental tragedy was complete when the deadliest mass murderer in american history shot himself in the head, adding the final increment to the death toll.

investigations revealed the identity of the shooter as cho seung-hui, 23, a korean final year student who, according to his manifesto, was cruelly oppressed by the more affluent students in the community, frequently describing himself as a victim of torture and abuse. he was invariably motivated by the columbine killings, which occurred 8 years ago to the week, as referenced in the 1800-word diatribe, in which he also remarked about getting revenge against unspecified wrongs done against him.

the world solemnly looks on as investigations continue to uncover more shocking facts and revelations. one can only wonder about the inevitable ripple-effect generated by a tragedy of such epic proportions.

Passing On

2007-04-10T20:56:00.000+08:00

In Loving Memory

Of My Dearest Uncle

Alan Chiang Hock Onn

3rd May 1967

8th April 2007

National Service

2007-03-08T20:15:00.000+08:00

this blog, regrettably, hasn't been updated for a year and a half, owing to the distinct fact that, as my youth expires into the sands of time, i've been throttling at warp speed into adulthood, entailed with mandatory dedications and commitments - explicitly, the wretched duty to serve out my liabilities to the nation.

blogging has evolved from an almost daily routine into an annual luxury trip away from the unrelenting pressures of reality. even though there's always been a mountain of blogging inspiration waiting to be mined, i've had neither the time nor strength to pick up the shovel. peering over the horizon, it doesn't appear to me that regular updates would be on their course, either. if, and when, constraints allow, i would definitely make a concerted effort to keep my thoughts penned down.

dreams

2005-10-26T04:57:00.000+08:00

i've hardly had any time for leisure after my enslavement to the food stall. for the past two months, breaks have been few and far between. more often than not, i would find myself drinking my free time away. on occasions when desire outweighed budget, i would be rotting away to either a torrent of consecutive live football matches, or discovery channel/national geographic. i guess strange things tend to happen when you live your life this way.

dream 1:

i'm trekking through a forest with my buddy png, when we stumble upon an abandoned cave. we go deep in, and realize it's a musky old tunnel, leading to the site of our old secondary school. to our right, there is a murky pond; to our left is a little brown hill with a flight of steps leading to the top. further ahead of us, there are two adjacent basketball courts.

the first court is occupied by a 7-foot barbarian, complete with just a loin-cloth for a skirt, and 2 metal chains slung criss-crossed over his shoulders. he's shooting hoops with his pet, which happens to be a colossal tiger, spanning a quarter of the court's area. the second court hosts several indian boys, one of which i recognize to be our old schoolmate. png sees him too, and shouts his name out loud. of course, his thunderous call catches the attention of our old schoolmate, as well as everyone else - including the tiger.

the giant cat arches its back, revealing razor-sharp mandibles, and charges towards us. png leaps into the murky green waters of the algae-infested pond. my heart pounds like a jack-hammer as the tiger focuses its murderous eyes on me. i race up the steps of the hill, and as i glance down at my feet, i realize that the hill is actually a pyramid of well-stacked chicken nuggets. i arrive at the apex and reach out for the top piece of nugget and fling it blindly. the tiger dives through the air and catches the nugget in its jaws. i wake up with an adrenalin rush, and lingering heavily over me, an ominously large question mark.

dream 2:

i'm at a romantic candle-lit dinner in a fancy restaurant with a gorgeous lady. we exchange pleasantries and sip our wine. our orders are taken, and we engage in amorous conversation. out of the blue, i feel a thud against my expensive-looking leather shoes. i peer under the table, and find a gigantic anaconda hissing its forked tongue at me.

instantaneously, i lunge at it with both hands and lock its diamond-shaped head in a vice-like grip. its vicious jaws snare open. i apply even more pressure down on its skull with my thumbs. i've never touched a snake before, but i swear the coolness and texture of its leathery scale must feel exactly like the real thing. a semi-muted crack announces the death of the reptile. i wake up feeling relieved and victorious.

as it seems, i've probably overdosed on wildlife documentaries. these weird dreams have left me rather bewildered and wondering about their elusive deeper meanings. there could possibly be more such dreams, but i often forget about my dream moments after i awake. i wonder if anyone has a sensible decryption for them. maybe it's my sub-conscious trying to tell me something that i should probably know. it's probably some hidden feelings of insecurity or something.

dejection

2005-09-12T06:24:00.000+08:00

her mind is tiffany-twisted..
she got the mercedes bends..

club pub club bump

2005-09-08T08:55:00.000+08:00

my night commenced with a trip to zouk to mark my attendance again, after absenting myself for quite some time. sometimes i wonder why i even bother to maintain that twice-a-month chore to ensure the continuation of my membership. clearly, i've grown out of the place. even mambo doesn't feel the same anymore. sigh.

anyway, i got pretty restive after 3 hoegaardens, and keenly subscribed to png's notion of changing the environment to something more conducive to chilling out. we went down to boat quay, and chanced upon some old friends. i ruled the pool table for a while, and then the manager of the place, apparently indisposed by his gung-ho inclination to often have one too many bottoms up's, unpleasingly remarked that the joint was about to close. we left for supper, and the name 'momo' popped up.

next thing we knew, our attention was divided between parking the car at central mall, and avoiding a nearby skirmish involving not a small number of guys who were too old for the term 'teenagers', yet behaving too childishly to be adults. guys kinda like myself, in fact. the left side-view mirror brushed past an angry boy, and i instinctively did our driver a favour by raising an apologetic palm to him. i saw no point in spoiling our merry-making by aggravating an aggressive alcohol-arrested adolescent. we went in through the back door, and welcomed the sight of a live band playing rather solid rock music. we didn't linger too long though. there was greater promise lying deeper within.

the group split into two divisions - the dancefloor hunters and the pool table hustlers. surprisingly, lust was not on the menu tonight, so i had no intention of hooking up with any girls. i decided to exploit my good run of form on the table. my two dollar-coins reaped in more than an hour of much-appreciated recreation, and made me two new acquaintances along the way, although right now i rather ashamedly confess that the memory of their faces are vague, and their names anonymous. i'm quite sure i'll recognize them the next time we meet - 'quite' being the keyword here.

it was drizzling on the way home, and our friend behind the steering wheel ran us into a lamp post. it sounds like i'm saying this in jest here, but i'm not kidding. she had night blindness, and at the junction, she mistook the pavement for the lane. i'm just glad there were no pedestrians, or she wouldn't have escaped with just a brief reprimand for the dent in the front bumper. in retrospect, i'm weirdly relieved my first road accident happened this way. at least no injuries were inflicted, and i had a funny recollection to store into memory.

i realize this entry has a ubiquitous tone of obscurity that's wearisome to read, but then again, i'm just too jaded and uninspired, so i'll stop here.

the matchstick

2005-09-04T23:30:00.000+08:00

once upon an imaginary time, there was a matchstick. nothing wonderful or fascinating could be said about him; he was just like the others in the box, except that he often dreamt of being a medical tool, like a scalpel or a syringe. as a victim of the circumstances that convoluted his very existence, he never had the liberation to observe personal hygiene. thus, he developed a dandruff problem, and his condition was rapidly deteriorating.

one day, it got the better of him, and after countless attempts to fight off the urge of scratching his head, temptation triumphed over sensibility. consequently, it took just one fateful scrape to spark off a combustion which eradicated the whole box of matches.

as divine as interventions come, our little matchstick survived and was rushed to the hospital for treatment, re-emerging as none other than a cotton bud, one of the most germane inventions to the cause of personal hygiene! however, survivor guilt threw him over the edge of sanity, and following little contemplation, he abruptly ended his life by leaping into a bottle of alcohol.

the moral of the story is that sometimes forsaking rationale might be a means to a solution, if only you manage to afford the costs and survive the consequences. if you can't, then drinking won't help you; it'll only kill you.

i'm a negativity sponge

2005-08-25T03:45:00.000+08:00

i'm feeling immense pressure from having to juggle work, play and school. my mum's new business ventures have thrown more burden into the bags of obligation i'm already shouldering, and with progress in my school work consequently stalled, i feel that every breath that i draw chokes me. i start having to make up excuses for not meeting deadlines. in doing so, i deliberately breed procrastination, and my conscience spares me no mercy for that.

mentally, i am beginning to crumble. the only saving grace is that in 3 weeks, i won't have to go to school anymore, although when that happens, i would have no excuse to escape being a slave for my family business. the state of my physical health is also deteriorating, no thanks to the frequent boozing and obsessive smoking. i am turning into an emotional wreck, and my temper is beginning to worsen. nowadays, i realize that my fuse lights up for even the most trivial of matters, and the worst part of that is the ease with which i find fuel for the fire. the angst and anxiety is piling up, and nobody seems to either know or care about it. sometimes, i think maybe i'm actually subconsciously attempting to implode. when that happens, i know i'll definitely be alone. the signs are obvious. i can't stand people; people can't stand me. being alone can't be as bad as it sounds. at least it's much better than having to put up with other people's crap. crap like expectations, criticism, advice, sympathy, mockery, hypocrisy, or naivety - from which none i abstain, therefore being alone would also protect the people from me, probably.

a new phase of life is beckoning, and entailing it are promises of a better tomorrow. i, however, have too much thought on today to even wonder about the future. this hectic pace of life is killing me, while people around me nonchalantly advise me to "get used to it, life's like that". that reminds me of an episode on national geographic where they showed the lives of salmon - struggle to grow up, then work yourself upstream to fuck and die. besides the fact that we also fuck while growing and working, we basically share the same destiny.

sometimes i wonder how, with our seemingly superior intelligence, we manage to simplify the most complex of tasks, and yet complicate the most basic of issues. i hope i live to see the end of this fucked up world. i'll probably be one of the very few who'll greet it with a smile. until that happens, let's just hold our breaths, close our eyes, and start thinking of clear blue skies and butterflies.

sick and tired

2005-08-03T11:07:00.000+08:00

of working for nothing, although it's within my role as a "filial" son.
of watching bubbles of promise pop in my face.
of meeting project deadlines by sacrificing precious sleep and freedom.
of the crippling effects of procastination and delegation.
of watching time and money flow through my grasp like fine sand.
of using the school's internet connection for everything but schoolwork.
of postponing or cancelling plans for last minute cockups.
of having so many ideas to blog about, but eventually forgetting to.
of compromising and forsaking my dreams for others.
of burying pride and passion with priorities and obligations.
of building castles in the clouds, only to watch it all fall down as rain.
of drinking from golden fountains in the company of loneliness.
of chasing white dragons in a trip out of reality.
of feeling sick and tired.

the green little imp

2005-07-08T11:26:00.000+08:00

i woke up feeling like shit. to be precise, i woke up at 5.45am after a 12-hour slumber with an aching head feeling like a fucked up piece of shit. after washing up, i went downstairs seeking music therapy. i started off submerging myself in the audio-rich pleasure of cradle of filth, then mellowed down with golden oldies from frank sinatra, the platters, carpenters, etc.

half-way through reminiscing, i got to thinking about my life up to this point. feeling like a piece of shit this early in the morning didn't exactly invoke positive, sunshine thoughts about myself. staring into a reflection of myself on the crystal case of 'robbie williams - greatest hits', i was victimized by a bout of depression, until suddenly, a peculiar concept barged into my mind, like a green little imp holding a jar of colourful lollipops, smiling and dancing as he sang a happy jingle. the little imp spoke of justification for my state of mind, and asserted that being the fucked up piece of shit that i am had its advantages. at least expectations would be lowered, stress would be relieved, tensions would be eased, and liberation would be achieved. i could now do things that i previously would have shaken my head at.

with the imp as my companion, i took the bus to school, and on it we saw a gorgeous girl. usually i would have bashfully taken discrete glances at eye-candy like her, but today, i was a piece of shit, and i didn't have to care about deportment or self-image, or if i was to give her the defamatory impression of myself as a perverted goggling arsehole. the wonderful green fella drooling by my side also discarded my anxiety over the presentation i was going to school for, by distinctively pointing out that there was nothing wrong with being a piece of shit.

from feeling like a fucked up piece of shit to being that fucked up piece of shit, i find myself venturing through life's ups and downs with a whole new attitude, and i'm glad i found my new best friend, the green little imp with colourful lollipops, who showed me how perfect the world could really be from this perspective. =)

bleah

2005-07-07T09:36:00.000+08:00

right now, i'm blogging in tutorial. the bloody wireless connection at home is down. again. anyway, last night i went to zouk with jon and png. while waiting for jon to arrive, png and i went to farasha's prata paradise, located somewhere around the posb atm. i clearly remembered ordering 3 kosong pratas, but the man delivered a plate that looked like it held three yellowish, cold, used, and very worn rags made of last year's kneaded dough. it would be an understatement to say that i was devastatingly disappointed, but i didn't want to booze on an empty stomach, and so i painfully stuffed myself the pieces of rag. i could almost imagine the teardrops that flowed down my cheek with every chew and swallow.

once we got in, we saw freddie and his buddies rocking the dancefloor, as usual, with not-so-original para para moves that are symbolic of mambo jambo night. freddie, you might not read this, but hey, all the best with your new phase of life come friday. we'll all miss you. =)

i was spacing out alone at a corner, and towards the end of the night, a drunk malaysian girl plopped herself beside me. i shifted away from her as she planted her face on the bartop, but she inched closer to me. so i shifted a bit further away, and still she kept inching nearer, until i gave up avoiding her. she moved into touching distance, pulled the sleeve of my shirt and asked, with the other hand muffling her mouth, half-gagging, if i had any tissue. immediately sensing the danger of getting drenched in a stranger's half-digested dinner, my instincts alerted myself to instantaneously swing at her a packet of tissue paper and an empty jug that was lying around. she swiped both items with a fluid motion of her hands, then momentarily stared into the bottom of the jug, before flushing it with a preliminary semi-liquid tide of orangey stuff that resembled a mash of nasi briyani and stomach acid. her friends, who were obliviously dancing, aided her to the restroom, while i was left blank-eyed at the grotesque scene.

a few minutes passed, and the malaysian girl re-approached me, visibly after washing up. we had a conversation which stemmed a few laughs and giggles, and it didn't take too long before numbers were exchanged. then moments before leaving, she smooched me on the cheek. i was initially caught by surprise, followed by flashbacks of the orange goo she unleashed earlier, and that prompted me to retreat a few steps, embarrassed and disconcerted. yuck.

song of the month: june

2005-06-29T06:34:00.000+08:00

the past 30 days, or rather, 30 nights, have been riddled with a handful of wonderful tracks, including the memorable 'i like to move it' from the madagascar ost, and the gorillaz's catchy 'feel good inc', but here's the one song that undoubtedly enjoyed the most counts on my playlist.

song of the month: june

"all those signs, I knew what they meant;
some things you can't invent;
some get made, and some get sent"

title: speed of sound
artist: coldplay
album: x & y
genre: alternative

do you believe in ghosts?

2005-06-27T03:38:00.000+08:00

everyone's heard or read of ghosts, and some even claim to have seen them. me? i don't really believe in supernatural hocus pocus like haunted houses, poltergeists, exorcists, visions, sightings, encounters, demons, spirits, blablabla. to prove that i'm no blind skeptic, i hereby boldly present my theory on the age-old paranormal enigma of the undead.

to start off, i'll try to enlighten the uninformed readers on basic human biology. our body generates electric charges that commute at approximately 360km/h throughout our body, the highway of which would be the spinal column. these electric charges ride in cars called nerves - the messengers that transport the electric charges, or signals, between our brain and the rest of our body. these signals, for example, tell us that the milk is bad, or that our foot should be lifted when we approach a pile of shit, or that mum is waking you up with a cane, and that you'd better move your ass before she whoops it. well, you get the picture.

you read and impatiently wonder: what the heck has electric charges gotta do with ghosts? calm down, we're just getting started. my hypothesis is, quite basically, that ghosts are merely fragments of memory. to illustrate my case, i want to mention that cemeteries are one of the most commonly known 'haunted' areas. my explanation for this is simple: because when the final rites are performed, almost everybody who gathers around the sepulchre engages in deep remembrance of the dearly departed, and solemn emotions are invoked in unison, thus creating a metaphorical stormcloud. i believe that this stormcloud of memories transcends the mental state and into a metaphysical state, generating a vessel that manifests an electromagnetic field over the burial ground. this vessel remains even as the funeral is cleared, and remain there for an indefinite period of time.

now picture this: one fine day, perhaps N decades after the aforementioned interment, a person walks through the cemetery as the hairs on his arms stand on end, and chills run down his spine, then he sees a headless man, thus freaking out and dashing off in double-quick time. any average person would think he'd seen a ghost, but i differ in opinion. i would say that his body has made contact with the electromagnetic vessel of memories that was manufactured N decades ago. he experienced a disruption in his internal nervous system, thus causing his hair to stand, his nerves to wriggle aggresively through his spinal column, and his senses to manifest a vision of a man. the figure in the vision could have been headless either due to the disintegration of the stored memories that involved the head, or because of a flawed connection between the two sets of electric charges. simply put, the man did not actually see anything, but his brain made him think that he'd seen a man that died N decades ago because the stormcloud of memories intervened with his senses.

this theory also aptly applies in the context of so-called 'demonic possession', when people speak languages they couldn't possibly have learnt of, and excrete liquid and solid waste in seemingly blasphemous manners. essentially, the electric charges would have interfered with the motor functions of the human body, as well as experienced an input of memory blocks containing foreign conversations, evoking those abnormal behaviours in the 'possessed' individuals. the susceptibility of individuals also vary, since such paranormal activities do not usually affect whole groups of people, but rather have differing experiences from person to person.

poltergeist activities are relatively more far-fetched, as far as the explanation goes, but my basis is that electromagnetic fields tend to imposingly distort and manipulate the laws of physics, resulting in the often-heard flying pot and bent spoon.

to a certain extent, my assumptions are justified and reasonable, though many people might think: what about the infamous 360-degree revolving heads, spiderwalking down staircases, and other melodramatic portrayals of ghosts and spectres and phantoms? all i have to say is, hollywood doesn't produce blockbusters by practising honesty and sticking strictly to facts.

what you see may not always be what you get. fear is the strongest fuel in the universe, and imajination is its spark.

what's a mookie?

2005-06-23T01:59:00.000+08:00

for all of you who've been wondering, this is what super mookie really looks like. according to the artist, i'm bruised because i'm a superhero who does a lot of fighting while saving damsels in distress; and i'm balding because i'm.. old? i'd say it's probably because i never bother to clean that pink lacey panty i always mask myself with..

antichrist supperstar 1

2005-06-18T03:21:00.000+08:00

during supper, preceded by the usual chill-out session at zouk, trefor and i had a casual discussion on religion. it began when i asked him why he didn't go to church since he claimed to be a christian. the response, to which i acquiesce, was essentially something like this:

"it's all about faith. i don't demonstrate my commitment to god with communal worshipping, and neither will you see me praying or doing anything superficial like that. it's all in the heart.

not going to church doesn't prove that i don't deserve to be a christian, or that i don't believe in god. conversely, going to church doesn't equate to more devotion or commitment."

to boldly postulate, i feel that nowadays, people dedicate time to churches chiefly because of familial or peer influence. i would think that not many church-goers actually become pious, devout christians or believe in god to save their souls and pass through the gates of paradise come judgement day.

they go to church because of socialization, conformity and (maybe) to avoid nagging. this contemporary dogmatism about christianity not only frays the beliefs of existing followers, but also casts shadows of doubt on would-be converts or believers, and accordingly renders more ammunition to the artillery of their skeptics.

i would like to believe that there still is a significant percentage of church-goers who unfalteringly give heart and soul in their religious commitments in their quest for redemption, but the black sheep in the flock are multiplying swiftly, owing largely to the inadequate lucidity when church communities recruit their followers. recruiters stipulate, in some way or another, that as long as you participate in church activities and/or make monetary contributions, heaven will open its doors for you. well, if salvation can be bought, then hell would be for paupers and beggars, instead of sinners and nonrepentants.

i expect that this entry will draw a few debatable comments that might lead to the usual disputes, but i hope it'll be light-hearted. there's no right or wrong answer here, just opinions and perspectives. oh, and there was also another issue of the antichrist and satanism, but i'm tired now. that will probably be discussed in my next post, if i can still retain the interest by then.

clouds

2005-06-15T05:42:00.000+08:00

i like to watch clouds.
i like to watch clouds float across the horizon.
i like to watch clouds pepper the land with rain.
i like to watch clouds play hide-n-seek with the sun and moon and stars.
i like to watch clouds transmute into different shapes.
i like to watch clouds morph all the colours of the rainbow.
i just like to watch clouds.

sometimes, i think people are like clouds. they come in different shapes, sizes, colours, and origins. they move constantly. they change constantly. they are moulded by nature and the environment. they experience life and death. they have moods and emotions. they can be good or bad. well, actually i think cookies, oysters and pokemon can also be used in this post instead of clouds. but i like clouds. so that's that.

i'll wait til kingdom come, or til my days are done,
whichever may be the earlier one,
for the moment true freedom is won.

rot in peace

2005-06-14T03:56:00.000+08:00

this is me for the past 4 days, and probably the next 5 too. this week's online lessons just encourage me to get lazier (is that even humanly possible?).

i've hardly bothered to exercise, shave, or even change my pants these few days. yes, i'm practically in the second phase of decomposition as i write this, though i have to admit, the occasional lengthy hot showers really slow down the decaying process. my mum thinks i'm a decorative artefact in the living room, and everyone else basically treats me like i'm invisible (maybe due to the fact that that's roughly how i've been treating them recently).

my body moves only when nature calls, when i run out of cigarettes, or when i feel like sleeping. speaking of which, i've been keeping really unhealthy hours lately. sleep: 9am to 8pm. i don't even fit into the 'nocturnal' category anymore.

when friends try to call me out, i get them over instead. and while we're on the topic of guests at home, i'd like to make a special mention that kids are running rampant in my house. besides that permanently residing baby sister of mine, my mum decides to take care of my aunts' kids as well. now i can't even rot in peace, having these 3, sometimes 5, little monsters wrecking havoc and creating pandemonium all day, for at least an entire week.

well, like they always say, if you can't beat them, join them. earlier today, i took the first step by watching the madagascar dvd with them, and i have to say, a couple of toddlers laughing hysterically in front of you can really amplify the hilariously enjoyable humour in the show. their not-so-harmonious chanting of 'we loike ta move it, move it', accompanied by peculiar dance-like motions, really tickled me for a while too, but very quickly became an incessant annoyance instead.

in conclusion, i'll just quote: the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. it's gonna be a very, very long week ahead..

post-season exercise

2005-06-13T20:23:00.000+08:00

pick your favourite XI out of the following painstakingly composed dream teams.
you can also vote for your favourite player, or create your own dream team to match up against mine. personally, i like team a better. what do you think?

dream team a:

gk - iker casillas

dc - rio ferdinand
dc - alessandro nesta
dr - cafu
dl - ashley cole

mc - steven gerrard (c)
mc - michael ballack
mr - cristiano ronaldo
ml - pavel nedved

fc - wayne rooney
fc - andriy shevchenko

dream team b:

gk - petr cech

dc - john terry (c)
dc - jamie carragher
dr - carles puyol
dl - roberto carlos

mc - andrea pirlo
mc - ronaldinho
mr - juan roman riquelme
ml - raul gonzalez

fc - michael owen
fc - adriano

dream team c:

gk - gianluigi buffon

dc - paolo maldini (c)
dc - walter samuel
dr - javier zanetti
dl - gabriel heinze

mc - mark van bommel
mc - zinedine zidane
mr - david beckham
ml - arjen robben

fc - thierry henry
fc - ronaldo

*i know the response for this post will be like shit. a big thank you in advance to those who actually do respond.

hair today, gone tomorrow

2005-06-11T02:59:00.000+08:00

i've decided to shave my head. not for any particular reason, other than the fact that it's one of those things that i've been contemplating, on and off, in recent years. i am saddened, yet eager, to try out a different style. it's just another mookie's-acting-on-impulse fad. let's hope i won't regret it.

in my memory, as well as many others who know me, or have seen me around, my proud mane of silky smooth hair, lightly tinged with my natural dark brown, has undergone many, many metamorphosis stages. all the colours of the rainbow and more -- black, brown, red, orange, pink, blonde, white, grey, green, purple, turqoise, and blue.. yes, blue. my favourite stage. oh, what fun we had, my hair and i.

specially arranged, the following collage is a tribute to the different styles of hair i've had, though there were many more memorable moments regrettably not captured on camera. *sob*

time

2005-06-10T01:18:00.000+08:00

school is into its 3rd week. i'm catapulted into a spiralling frenzy of tutorials and assignments. already i've spent countless hectic hours tearing hair out over project deadlines that are too short for comfort. so much to do with so little time. i vaguely remember just under a month ago, things were the direct opposite. that's what got me starting this blog in the first place -- too much time with nothing to do.

a large majority of my buddies have enlisted to serve the nation, something that's taking me forever to accomplish. i haven't had the time to properly bid them farewell, or to tell them things that i really want to say, or to bring them to places that i really want them to see. i guess these will have to wait til they book out of camp.

i haven't been blogging much lately. in fact, i haven't been blogging at all. my apologies to those who are still waiting for the next instalment of 'the immortal'. i just can't squeeze out spare time to pen down darian's adventures. but i promise it'll be posted by the next weekend. and i also promise it'll be better than the first two chapters. for sure.

this furious pace of life is exhausting me. everything's happening in a blur. even my senses are obscured. my mind is flooded with incoherent thoughts. imaginary people whispering into my ears. bus rides are blank-minded trips. the only time i ever really get to shut my brain down isn't when i'm sleeping. i've been dreaming often. not the usual dreams. they're more of flashbacks about the day's activities. i guess the only remedy for being stressed out is to space out. maybe it's the absence of music intertwining with my activities. i hope to go clubbing soon. alcohol and good music always provided a welcome form of distraction for me. well, maybe not just booze and beats. fortuitous encounters also lower the pressure gauge by quite a few notches. well, it's late. time to get some rest before another foaming-at-the-mouth day. thank god this week is almost over.. (-.-)

the letter 'm'

2005-05-31T12:05:00.000+08:00

what is it about football and the letter 'm'? is it pure coincidence that the world's (arguably) biggest and most successful clubs come from cities that begin with 'm'? even liverpool are included, since they're from merseyside. the following statistics should be more than enough to convince anyone who's about to shoot his mouth off about other teams, especially juventus or chelsea.

the only team that i think really deserve to join the great m's is barcelona, with 16 league titles, 24 copas del rey, 4 uefa cups, 4 cup winners' cups, and being the only team to take part in every european cup since it began in 1955, besides winning it once.

ps. arsenal fans don't even come close.

manchester united
15 league titles
11 fa cups
1 league cup
2-time european champions

liverpool
18 league titles
6 fa cups
7 league cups
5-time european champions

ac milan
14 league titles
6-time european champions

internazionale milan
11 league titles
2-time european champions

bayern munich
16 league titles
5-time european champions

real madrid
29 league titles
17 spanish cups
2 uefa cups
9-time european champions

olympique de marseille
10 league titles
10 coupes de france
1-time european champions

while we're on the 'm' success story, it also brings to mind other industries besides football, namely giants like microsoft and macdonald's, both of which are leaders in their field. what about michael jordan, michael jackson and madonna? i bet the list could go on and on. just keep those eyes peeled for the magical mystery of the letter 'm'.

song of the month: may

2005-05-31T10:21:00.000+08:00

music is a powerful medium. and that's an understatement.

it exhumes memories;
it alters moods;
it molds imajination;
it changes perception;
it procures solace;
it propagates desires;
it feeds emotions.

its influence on the human soul is essential and significant.

at the end of every month, i shall name the one song that had the most distinct impact on me throughout the past 30 days.

song of the month: may

"it started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?
it was only a kiss, it was only a kiss."

title: mr brightside
artist: the killers
album: hot fuss
genre: modern rock

two redang buggers please

2005-05-31T02:07:00.000+08:00

tat and jon just came back from redang, the island resort in malaysia. seems like they had a helluva time there. don't believe me? i'll prove it with two thousand words. here:

glad you enjoyed yourselves. i just wish i was there. maybe next time.

chapter 2: the lost exile

2005-05-30T12:20:00.000+08:00

The Immortal - Chapter II

Darian awoke from his coma, numb and torpid. His head was a swirling sea of lead. Every wave, every crescendo punctuated with a throbbing that mercilessly hammered at raw nerve. He struggled to find his feet. The temporary concussion-induced blindness did him no favours either. He would have to depend on his other senses for cognition of the environment.

Sniffing the humid air, he caught a rapturous sting of acrid, nauseating putrefaction. He battled to keep the bile from ascending his gullet, jostling with the stench of decay until it finally drifted away. Kneeling his re-composed self on one knee, he cautiously felt the ground around him. It was grainy and moist. A deeply worrying concern was creeping into his head when his ears suddenly snared a distant sound.

Was that a howl? At first barely audible, then the second, followed by the third, resonating with increasing volume and clarity. The disconcerting thought he had earlier was now re-affirmed and proliferated into morbid apprehension, as the bone-chilling echoes penetrated his ears, and translated into howling. The hair on his nape stood as his memory provided some recognition.

Wolf-cries were never heard of in the Garden of Eden, but Darian had learned enough from the stories of the other angels. Stories of a penitentiary created for the incarceration of condemned beings, just like him. A wasteland of vast expanse in perpetual night illuminated by the omnipresent shine of a majestic moon, it was a dreadful prison for immortals who have sinned. Darian was also told that there was a dominant race of creatures roaming this land of exile. The land was a prison, and they were its wardens.

Lycans -- bloodthirsty tormentors of the damned, they were notoriously brutal in their relentless pursuit for sanguine satisfaction. Well-known and feared for their titanic strength and agility, coupled with a mammoth physique, these colossal wolf-like carnivores were the perfect torture machines.

Designed to hunt those imprisoned for eternity, Lycans inflicted insurmountable pain and agony onto their victims. These straitened sufferers did not have the luxury of death, therefore destined to experience cruel punishments until the end of time.

Darian shuddered in his consternation, deeply perturbed by the imminent actuality of such frightful circumstances. His vision had just recovered, as his gaze was uncontrollably attracted to the ominous brilliance of the deathly pale moon. A tide of calm washed through his entirety and dissolved his trepidation. Darian’s train of thought was about to commence its motion. It was imperative that he formulate a plan to survive in the banished lands and conceal himself from the dangers that lurked just behind the horizon. Would there even be a chance of escape?

haven't seen chapter 1? click here.

mental constipation

2005-05-29T21:57:00.000+08:00

ugh.. i'm experiencing a mindblock. i don't know what to blog about, so i'll let the cartoon speak for itself, since a picture paints a thousand words. *sigh* so cliche huh?

saturday night clubbing

2005-05-29T05:37:00.000+08:00

the dj's spinning techno,
the mate's cheering 'let's go';
house and hiphop and club and pop,
don't think - just let it flow.

the beat's taking its toll,
the rhythm's losing control;
skipping and leaping and prancing and dancing,
the music's tripping the soul.

the light's getting bright,
the crowd's saying good night;
raising the mug and giving a hug,
proclaiming 'tonight was alright'.

but wait - it's not quite over yet.
'though our clothes are wet and our batteries flat,
and can't quite remember who we've met,
let's stop by that midnight stall,
for supper, coffee, and a little chit-chat.

now the stomach's filled,
and the table's billed;
yawning and stretching and itching and twitching,
we'll leave when the cigarette's killed.
thanks for the fun, i was thrilled;
i better go home now; i'm gonna get grilled!

chapter 1: wrongfully accused

2005-05-29T04:31:00.000+08:00

The Immortal - Chapter I

As an angel in the Garden of Eden, Darian was responsible for the welfare of the winged unicorns which dwelled there. Peace and serenity was prevalent in his life, until that unfortunate day when his destiny would change forever.

Darian was resting under the shade of a weeping willow, with a Pegasus lying lazily by his side. An archangel, Kane, was taking a leisurely stroll around the garden, oblivious to the presence of Darian and the Pegasus. Kane stumbled clumsily over the outstretched legs of the Pegasus and lost his balance, crashing to the ground with a loud groan. Both Darian and the Pegasus were taken by surprise, and quickly shot up, staring wide-eyed at the archangel, who was picking himself up, brushing dirt off his knees. Darian caught a glimpse of the fury burning in archangel’s eyes, and began to apologize profusely. The archangel responded by ungraciously shoving Darian to the ground, and proceeded to challenge the hapless angel to a duel. This unleashed a flurry of events that could only be described as utter chaos as the Pegasus saw the provocation and, in an attempt to defend his caretaker, reacted violently by kicking out at the archangel. The shaken Darian could only retreat to a side, screaming incoherently in an attempt to resolve the situation. But his intrusion came perhaps a moment too late, as a flailing hoof caught the archangel on his head.

Blood gushed profusely from the open wound on Kane’s forehead, and a scarlet curtain veiled the archangel’s face as he collapsed to the ground and lay there motionless. Panic-stricken, the Pegasus fled the scene, as Darian was left staring flabbergasted at the corpse of a being who, just moments ago, was entrusted immeasurable authority by the Almighty One. Now, the only thing entrusted was a heinous crime that the Pegasus had inadvertently left for Darian to shoulder, being the angel culpable for everything associated with the unicorns -- including accidental murder. Who could foresee that the creatures he loved so passionately would unwittingly requite his affections with a tragedy that would consequently entail endless conundrums of unimaginable monstrosity?

Just as his thoughts began to gather, a trio of cherubs approached Darian with incriminating glares that reflected overwhelming angst and grief. He knew that speech was futile now, as he looked to the heavens and let out a cry in muted agony.

insomnia can cause insanity

2005-05-28T03:02:00.000+08:00

mookie says:

i'm bored.

bliss says:

so am i

mookie says:

but the thing is, i don't feel like doing anything at all in the first place.

mookie says:

therefore, i choose to be bored.

mookie says:

damn, i'm getting dull.

bliss says:

ure not makin ani sense animore

mookie says:

yeah..

mookie says:

i mean.. i'm bored because i'm doing nothing.

mookie says:

yet i'm the one who chooses to do nothing, not because there's nothing to do.

mookie says:

there are a million and one things that i could do right now, yet i'm not even close to enthusiastic about any of them.

mookie says:

*about considering any of them.

mookie says:

ok i'm rambling. crap.

mookie says:

it's taking me close to 8hrs to try to sleep after a 17hr workshift.

mookie says:

and i'm still here. wide awake.

mookie says:

not even a yawn.

mookie says:

my eyelids refuse to stay shut.

mookie says:

my mind refuses to stop wandering.

bliss says:

ha. i believe its because u refuse to sleep n not cux u cant sleep

mookie says:

i'm plopped on my bed, praying to get some rest.

mookie says:

but i just can't.

mookie says:

i feel tired, believe me. but sleep just eludes me.

mookie says:

oh baseball bat, where are you when i need you most..?

mookie says:

help..

bliss says:

haha. u are funny..

bliss says:

i am reading xiaxues blog now

bliss says:

her blog is quite funny

mookie says:

maybe i should blog about my sleeplessness right now.

mookie says:

maybe i should just cut and paste the stuff i just typed in this window.

mookie says:

maybe i should stop talking and start blogging.

mookie says:

yeah.

bliss says:

haha.. u dont need me to talk to u at all..

bliss says:

u just talk to urself.

mookie says:

huh?

mookie says:

yeah.

mookie says:

ok.

bliss says:

haha. so are u askin for my opinions?

bliss says:

or are u just talkin to urself?

bliss says:

or tellin me.

mookie says:

sigh..

mookie says:

i'm tired.

bliss says:

ha. ok ok.

bliss says:

funniest guy ever.

bliss says:

keep tellin me ure tired but just not goin to sleep!

bliss says:

go count lambs

mookie says:

lol.

mookie says:

they look like sheep to me, and i think i'm already at 1,009,192,391.

bliss says:

hahaa..

bliss says:

how tall is xiaxue huh

mookie says:

dunno..

bliss says:

is she very very short

mookie says:

not sure..

mookie says:

i don't really care, seriously.

bliss says:

not that i do but ok ok..

bliss says:

nvm

bliss says:

are u blogging??

mookie says:

yeap.

mookie says:

colouring our conversation.

mookie says:

if not difficult to read.

bliss says:

Hmm

bliss says:

e boliao things u do really amuses me to e max

bliss says:

at e last sentence where u colour finish u shd be sleepy already

mookie says:

lol..

bliss says:

im goin for a swim n a tan

bliss says:

woohoo

mookie says:

alright.

mookie says:

enjoy.

reminiscence

2005-05-25T21:34:00.000+08:00

while re-organizing my drawers out of boredom, i chanced upon an old, familiar adidas shoebox. even before i lifted the lid, my heart tingled with warmth. it's been a long time since i last laid my eyes on these..

mtv and peanut butter

2005-05-25T18:02:00.000+08:00

it's 1.38am and a low, beastly growl reverberates around the icy, pitch-dark room. groggily, i peel off the blanket and carelessly fling my bolster onto the floor.

the growl increases in magnitude. it is becoming impatient, incessantly roaring it's demands. in zombie-like fashion, i trudge out of the comfort of my room and down the stairs, answering the commands of the growl. as i flounder past the dining table, i take a glance. they had quite a feast for dinner earlier this evening.

nonetheless, this isn't what the growl demands. i stagger into the kitchen and lift my muddled gaze, surveying the kitchen top for the critical objectives. ah! found it!

spacing out with mtv channel and a peanut butter sandwich. food for the soul. gotta love it.

mookie's prologue

2005-05-24T23:09:00.000+08:00

i'm guessing the first thing off the top of your mind would be: what the heck is a mookie? well, i don't really know either.

one night, while staring at my msn window, figuring out just what my next nick would be, it sorta just wriggled its way out of random, squirmed through my fingers, and plonked itself onto the keyboard.

instantly, i realized that this nickname, mookie, which obviously had absolutely no meaning, had arrived onto my monitor for one purpose. the destiny of these six letters were to provide anonymity for the vent through which my lamentations and nonsense could be spouted, a pseudonym for the mask that i would put on while penning down lame shit and random thoughts on the internet.

why do i even need a mask in this vast expanse of cyberspace, you ask? well, that's because technology is shrinking the world, and almost everybody knows everybody else nowadays. but you already know that, so i'm gonnna save the lecture of globalization through information technology. =)

i actually had another blog, about the past stories of my life, but after a while, i ran out of interesting stories and inspiration to blog, and negligence thus arose to consume it. this time round, i'll blog more about what's happening, as well as what's NOT happening, and what i hope will happen in my life, as well as in the lives of others.

well, let's just cross our fingers and pray that i'll have enough interest and motivation to keep updating my blog, instead of leaving it for dead, like my previous one.

oh yeah, i just discovered how to publish pictures in here.

this is a pendant that i found in a night bazaar during a trip to bangkok. it hasn't been taken off since the evening i bought it, and i've grown quite used to it hanging around my neck. it actually makes me feel good, so i guess it'll be there for quite some time to come. there's also a matching female version of it, but i haven't found anyone to give it to yet. anyway, that's another story for another time.

feel free to leave your comments/opinions/complaints, just to let me know my blog is being read. right now, typing this, i feel like i'm talking to myself, like some kinda self-reflection. once in a while, it's ok to do it, but after a period of time, i'd be really uncomfortable, and then start doubting my sanity. so if anyone ever reads this, please show some support. i know i may not be posting stories like the next blockbuster movie or best-selling novel, but i promise you that your gracious proof of existence will be cherished and returned with more entries that would hopefully harvest more interest in this blog of mine.

ps. i apologize for the lengthy introduction.. but get used to it. i'm far too lazy to draft and summarize.