Witless Writer Wannabe

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k0k s3n w4i

… to Blogger

My shortest post ever.

Succinct,
k0k s3n w4i

"Many scientists are now concluding that, at best, [antioxidant supplements] are a waste of time and money. At worst they could be harmful."

-Lisa Melton, NewScientist.com news service, 5th of August 2006

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The real deal

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Got your attention there, didn’t it?

Many of my minimal populace of readers have pointed out that my posts are simply too lengthy. So, for those lacking time to read, having infantile attention spans, no-speaka-da-inglis or visually-challenged - here’s the low-down;

• Antioxidants from their NATURAL sources is beneficial, no doubt about that. If you don’t know what antioxidants are, here’s a link to a Wikipedia article  in case you’re too fat-ass lazy sexy to find out for yourself.
• BUT antioxidants in the form of SUPPLEMENTS (cranberry capsules, green tea extract, effervescent vitamin C, pomegranate concentrate, beta carotene, selenium, high-dose vitamin E, etc) are crap, and possibly might even fuck-up your internal system.
• This is because all these pills, extracts and synthetic bullsh!ts lacks the mojo magic-powerz possibly-yet-unknown-compounds that those natural stuff contains which either helps in absorbing/activating/assimilating antioxidants.
• So

  till more conclusive research results are being published, stay away from the fake stuff. Eat real and buy ori, okay?

For more details, read on folks. But before that, let me wish you guys who bothered to read my crappy writings all this time a Happy New Year*

*None of that Chinese New Year crap. I’m Chinese, so why should I mention my race’s name along with my race’s own new year greetings?

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The impostors

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After the New Year’s Eve pseudo-reunion pseudo-dinner (I mean this affectionately) at Shaki’s new apartment yesterday night, I couched the night in Inn Shan’s pad. Only then I had time to read that copy of Reader’s Digest (Feb 2007 Indian/Nepalese Edition) I bought a day ago.

There’s an article in it that piqued my interest. As soon as I got back to my hostel room, I did a quick search and found the exactly same article in www.newscientist.com. Here’s a link to that.

But I’m not someone who swallows just because someone shoves something into my mouth. I consulted my good friend Wikipedia and in that same entry about antioxidants, there’s a small section dedicated to brief anecdotes of clinical trials of these supplements. Apparently, they (the supplements) failed most of the tests. Here are some quotes;

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"…one study of lung cancer patients found that those given beta-carotene supplements had worse prognoses. Two 1994 studies found an increased* rate of lung cancer in smokers supplementing with beta carotene…"

*Kanasai… don’t help but make you die faster some more.

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"…researchers conduct at least seven large clinical trials testing
the effects of antioxidant supplement with Vitamin E, in doses ranging
from 50 to 600 mg per day. However, none of these trials found a
statistically significant effect of Vitamin E on overall number of
deaths or on deaths due to heart disease…"

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"…over 12,500 French men and women took either low-dose antioxidants (120 mg of ascorbic acid, 30 mg of vitamin E, 6 mg of beta carotene, 100 μg of selenium, and 20 mg of zinc) or placebo pills for an average of 7.5 years. The investigators found there was no statistically significant effect of the antioxidants on overall survival, cancer, or heart disease…"

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After a little bit more spade-work, I unearthed another article, this time from www.foodnavigator.com, which cited the views, arguments and opinions of many big-wigs in the field of medical science on the antioxidant supplementation controversy. Check it out.

I don’t usually blog about news items but many people around me seem to worship supplements. They just keep popping junk food and ignore the healthy, natural stuff that contains the effective antioxidants. When I tell them to watch what they eat, the answer I’ll invariably get back would be;

"Don’t worry-la. I got take supplements one. No problem, wei… Chill…"

I never supplement my diet. It’s too bloody costly to do that. I prefer to try to eat as much healthy food as I can along with my staple junk food intake (which explains my Teddy Bear physique). Now suddenly, there’s a possibility that supplements might actually screw harm people who takes them; you must admit that there’s beautiful irony in that.

So like I said earlier, the smartest thing to do is to just stick with the greens at the moment; at least till further researches are done or a more effective supplementation system is conceived.

Stop popping pills, yo!

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PS: Do comment and let me know if this post helped. If not many people needs it, I’ll just keep further news items to myself. It takes time to find out stuff and write it all here (I rather be talking about myself… LoL)

PSS: I went to the ICHS this morning to try to get Dr. Ullas Kamath’s opinion on the subject. Unfortunately, I wasn’t aware that all the lecturers are currently on vacation. Crap. I’ll try again later. For the benefit of those not from MMMC, ICHS is our faculty centre and Dr. Ullas is the Boss-man Head of the Biochemistry Department.

PSSS: If you feel like playing the Good Samaritan yourself, spread the word in your blogs. Tell all your friends that supplements are evil sh!t.

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Keepin’ it real,

k0k s3n w4i

"Grey’s Anatomy sucks. Watch me."
-Dr. Gregory House, Episode 25 Season 2.

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"House… Gregory House."

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It’s no denying that it was a bloody stroke of genius to sign Hugh Laurie on as the sarky, brilliant, irrepressible anti-hero of FOX Network’s House M.D. (I cannot imagine anyone else who fits a role more). I’m not a big drama fan - never was. The longest any series can hold my attention was half a season tops, before I start thinking, "I need to get a life - this sh!t sucks pigs’ nuts."

When AXN first started showing advertisements (or trailers, whatever) of House, I though that it was just another cranky doctor sitcom but hey, that’s one great personality they’ve casted there - so I decided to give it a fair trial. At the end of the pilot (that’s first episode for those who’s not fluent in drama-speak), I was utterly and completely hooked! Tapeworm in the the brain! Medical drama just doesn’t

get any cooler than this. [Spoilers: Please don't read the previous two sentences... Sh!t, too late].

House M.D. plays out in a great formula that totally kicks ass - witty dialogues, compelling medical mysteries, and a Brit in the lead. Of course, some viewers claimed that the show is overly formulaic. Every episode went something like this;

1. Patient seize up/vomit blood/sh!t green goo
2. House diagnose the patient and prescribe some unconventional, oft-crazy-dangerous treatment
3. Patient goes into convulsions/eyes pop out/pancreas explode because House was wrong
4. Rinse and repeat two more times to fill up the 42 minutes show
5. House has a ‘Eureka!’ moment by; hearing some nondescript remark*/watching some hot chick’s ass**/sniffing some woman’s bra***

*Standard of most episodes
**Episode 3, Season 3; "Informed Consent"
***Episode 9, Season 2; "Deception"

Some on you might dislike this, but I find the modus operandi of the show’s writers to be very well-paced. Each symptom is slowly exposed in a chronological fashion giving the viewers ample chance to try at diagnosing the ‘Ailment of the Week’ themselves. Plus, the medical facts are (thankfully) not dumbed down for the average housewife; providing lots of free revision time for me. Thanks to House, I’ve never needed to revise Wernicke-Korsakoff syndrome, Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, Wilson’s disease, Congenital Erythropoietic Phorphyria, etc, etc for any of my exams because they have been featured/mentioned in the show.

Just pay attention, be entertained - and learn.

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House don’t f*ck around - or suck any pig’s nuts either

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House M.D. is the first drama to claim 100% viewership from me. That’s much more I can say about Grey’s Anatomy. I actually had Season 1 and 2 of Grey’s kept in my laptop once. It took me nearly 6 months to finish the first season (I only watch them when I have absolutely nothing to do at all) and after the season finale, I promptly deleted the entire second season without even watching a single episode. I felt bodily ill at the thought of sitting through another Grey’s. The amount of drama-cliches that show dumps on me is nauseating.

Back to House;

But like any other TV series, regardless how accurate it is, House’s writers do take a little dramatic license sometimes and modify a medical fact/surgical procedure/drug action for better storytelling. That’s where Scott comes in - the indispensable guru of medical accuracy for House fans studying to be physicians someday.

I reviewed (Dr) Scott’s blog quite some time ago and I seriously didn’t do it any justice at all. So I’ve decided to do it again (old one’s binned). This time, I have pictures. I finally learned how to take screen-shots!

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1 m s0 1337, 1 c4n 74k3 5cr33n5h075 nw! 1 7074||y p4wn ur 455! g0 5uck ur b0×0rz, |00s3r5! lulz!

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A Review of Medical Reviews of House M.D. by Dr. Scott by Me

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Front page of Scott’s blog lists all the episodes he reviewed.

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Quantum Warp Pad to Scott’s Crib

Almost immediately after every episode, Scott would pen a detailed blow-by-blow account of it. He would sequentially describe what House’s team suggested in each differential diagnosis (you know, those scenes where House lists all the symptoms on his white-board while his team takes turns to spout out disease names), each proposed treatment, subsequent complications, surgical procedures and House’s final diagnosis.

What set Scott from other reviewers is that he’s a doctor as well, familiar with many of the stuff portrayed in the show. He would;

• Let us know what disease he would suspect if he’s in the team’s position (and why)
• Tell us if the drug used is not the conventional (or correct) one and sometimes, suggest safer alternatives
• Describe the actual time needed for the symptoms to manifest or test results to return (drama writers tend to cut ends here for the effect of suspense)
• Point out the various medical accuracies that present themselves throughout an episode
• Even put up links for further reading about each and every illness, drug and surgery mentioned

I would visit Scott’s page after every episode I watch. He became as much as part of the House experience as the show itself for me. It’s amazing how he never miss a single thing (guess TiVo’s a great idea). Check out his page if you’re a medical student - beats staring at the bloody textbooks everyday.

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Here’s an excerpt showing Scott’s 1337 reviewing skillz;

"…the need
for an EEG is not quite as clear cut. If there is a question about a
seizure or a head injury, then it makes more sense. Remember, the EEG
just shows the electrical currents across the brain, it tells nothing
about the nerves elsewhere in the body, so Cuddy’s “do the biopsy if
the EEG is abnormal” statement makes no sense. And for what it’s worth,
sedation will affect the EEG results…"

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And at the end of each review, he’ll grade the episode base on it’s medical plausibility, medical mystery and solution, and the drama components. Here’s an example;

"…tonight’s medical mystery was intriguing and an A-. The solution made medical sense, but was a little over the top, but I’ll still give it another A-. The medicine seemed to equally split between the very good and the very bad, so that averages out to a C. The character interaction/soap opera between the team members was by far the best part of the show and earns an easy A…"

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Scott’s latest entry on Episode 14, Season 3; "Insensitive"

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House rocks! Scott lives!

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Addicted to House-isms,

k0k s3n w4i

"There are two things extremely hard; Diamonds and the brains of people who buy them."
-N. Nonimus

This is a public service announcement for everybody who can’t celebrate St. Valentine’s Day this year due to the university examinations (that’s me) and also for all the losers out there who don’t have dates and will probably also be lonely for the next twenty-or-so St. Valentine’s Days to come (that’s me as well).

So what am I planning to do?

Today, I’m going to sabotage an element of Love that is so universally familiar that 99% of those who read the message in the picture above would be able to finish the corny slogan correctly.  Today, I will personally exorcise all the romance out diamonds. So there!

Two years ago, I borrowed a book from the library in Taylor’s College titled "Greatest Advertisement Ploys Ever" or something along that vein. Inside, the author exposed the many cultural norms that we have accepted unquestioningly while being entirely oblivious to the influences that gave rise to them in the first place. Remember how Santa Claus is always dressed in red-and-white?

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Ever wondered why? Isn’t it odd that a 3rd century bishop of a Greek city should wear something so Harajuku? But those colours do seem oddly familiar somehow. Where have I seen them before? Hmm…

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OMGWTFBBQ! Jolly St. Nick’s been pimped by Coca-Cola!

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That’s right, folks. The soft drink empire was responsible for the ghastly fashion sense of the present Santa in one of the Christmas advertising campaigns they launched long, long ago. The world is way more commercialized than you imagine it to be.

We just take things like these for granted, don’t we? Well, back to topic of diamonds now.

In that same book, the author also dissed on De Beers, one of the most affluent, powerful names in the diamond industry.

Let’s analyze a diamond - what’s exactly so special about it? I’ll make a list;

• It’s the hardest natural substance in the world - so bloody solid that they make oil-rig drill teeth out of ‘em.
• It’s pwetty.

That’s a remarkably short list.

No doubt all of us know that diamonds are the pricey-est of gemstones in the market today. I’m sure other gemstones and crystals looked just as pwetty as any old diamond - but why the outrageous price-tag?

Here’s where I reveal De Beer’s evil, money-grabbing genius.

Back in 1947, they coined the catchphrase; A Diamond is Forever. With that as a basis, they erected a monster of a advertising ploy about how romantic the bloody rocks are. They hand-tailored the myth from scratch that diamonds symbolizes eternal love and happy marriages, fidelity and faithfulness and all that together-forever-till-we-die-in-our-rocking-chairs mush.

Very suddenly, almost overnight, the diamond became an essential, must-have item in every marriage. What the…?

Nowadays, it’s almost 100% impossible to get a woman to marry you without one of them little, sparkly stones. No diamond means you’re not going to love them forever.  No diamond means you’re a doomed bachelor for the remainder of your miserable solo life. No diamond means you’re a first-degree, useless cheapskate.

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This is what you are if you can’t afford diamonds

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But get this, folks,

Before De Beers plodded along, a diamond was just a regular gemstone - not much more romantic than pearls, amethysts or construction bricks. De Beers fabricated a fake tradition and established a market
out of right out of thin air - and dumb folks worldwide are paying
through their noses for it. Every man seeking to marry the woman of their dreams would now have to shell out mucho moolahs for an itsy-bitsy piece of transparent mineral that is made out of the same stuff as arang-batu and pencil leads.

Business 101; If you want to overcharge customers over anything, the demand must be high. De Beers took the diamond and made it into a matrimonial ritual, instantly hiking the demand to astronomical proportions. Think about this; two engagement rings and two wedding rings per pair of lovers - and millions and millions of marriages every single day. And we’re not even counting anniversaries, birthdays or St. Valentine’s Days yet.

Un-f*cking-believable.

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But wait - there’s more. [cheesy informercial announcer voice]

Leo and his friend, Digimon, showing bo-song face at today’s diamond prices

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This is the promotional poster for that new flick starring Leo "Titanic" DiCaprio, Jennifer Connelly and some guy named Digimon. I have not watched it yet (rest assured that I will) but I am quite aware of what the title alludes to.

‘Blood diamonds’ or their less glamorous name,’conflict diamonds’, are diamonds mined in a war zone and are sold on the black market to finance an insurgent or an invading army’s war efforts. Think about it, girls - one day when you’re all primed to wed and stuff, and you get a ring from your fiance, be sure to look real closely at the diamond set in it. That rock might be the cause of thousands of African men, women and children being butchered and gunned down because some warmongering megalomaniac decided to take over some third-world country.

Now, let the screams and sufferings of a thousand innocent people sit on your conscience and your marriage. Feel the pain of some dying bullet-ridden kid from Sierra Leone oozing out of that glitzy diamond necklace your boyfriend just bought you.

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Still think diamonds are romantic?

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Happy F*cking Valentine’s Day.

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The Ebenezer Scrooge of February 14,

k0k s3n w4i

"A mathematician is a device for turning coffee into theorems."
-Paul Erdos

This unremarkable logo belongs to the Barista expresso bars franchise, possibly the second most-popular name after Coffee Day in the Indian subcontinent when it comes to pricey coffee beverages.

Prior to my enrollment into a medical school, my system is caffeine-free. In fact, I’ve never had a single drop of the brown/black, bitter drink since I was ten. I was more of a tea guy. Now I’m semi-dependent on that stuff.

The thing I like about Barista was that a standard ice-blended (the aptly named Brrrista) only costs 34 rupees plus tax - that’s about RM 3, I believe. It’s half the regular price of any one of Coffee Day’s diabetic delights. However, the real reason for my preference is because Barista’s stuff actually works, though they aren’t quite so yummy as Coffee Day’s. Frankly, the Brrrista is about the dullest drink I’ve ever gulped down - no whipped cream, chopped almond or choc syrup - just ice + coffee + blender. It’s almost a back-to-mother-nature experience.

Well, today after dinner, I went to get my customary Brrrista from the mess hall. I’m expecting to do a fair bit of swotting tonight. The dude who minds the shop went AWOL somewhere so I was compelled to sit and wait. That’s me; the spirit of patience himself.

Ten minutes later, he returned and took my order. There was this girl (a local K.M.C student) who ordered something as well after I did.

But WTF, the girl got her drink first! What gives? Company policy say that must serve cun chicks first ar? (C’mon, she’s not even that pretty to look at!).

I’m fairly gentleman-like in my own quiet way. I’ll carry heavy bags, hold doors open and almost always let my female friends go ahead of me in queues and things - but hell, I was there waaay earlier than she was! It’s just plain wrong.

I didn’t complain or say anything though - I might find myself sipping from a phlegm cocktail tomorrow. Be careful of the stereotypical, minimum-waged bloke in the food-and-beverage industry. I’ve some friends who worked at a Kenny Roger’s outlet once and…

[cough]

…Let’s just say that a customer they didn’t like had a lot of freebies added to his lunch which he neither wanted nor knew anything about.

Got carried away there.

One thing I do notice about Indian customer services is that they employ lots of horny guys. The guys at Subway (submarine sandwich franchise) are just the same. Here are the ways they talk to different customers;

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To me:

"What do you want, sir?" [not even looking at me, checking the figures on some receipts]

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To a hot American chick:

"Good evening ma’am. What would you like to have today? We have a special on the Italian BMT sub - only 88 rupees for a six-incher. I’ll even toss in extra cheese for free. How about a cookie as well? Do you like cookies? I like cookies." [big, white goofy smile and eye-contact at all the wrong places]

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Bloody hell.

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I’m It?

Ladies and gentlemen, it is with all due formality, respect and blah-blah-blah that I present my response to Fei Lee’s (that’s michelleG to you) blog-tag.

Here it is;

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Four movies I can watch over and over and over again (though they may not necessarily be my favourite ones)

• Nothing beats the visual poetry of Zhang Yimou’s Hero.
• Shrek and Shrek 2.
• Tim Burton’s The Nightmare Before Christmas.
• The Sound of Colours, starring Miriam Yeung and Tony Leung. I actually watched this one 4 times in the cineplex. Don’t ask.

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Four places I’ve lived

• Bukit Baru, Malacca (home-base, yo).
• Genting Highlands as a toddler - both my parents worked there once-upon-a-time.
• SS15, Subang Jaya in my Taylor’s College days.
• Manipal, India - 40% of the town is populated by medical students. The other 50% by cows.

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Four books I recommend to everyone (again, not necessarily my personal list-toppers)

• Roald Dahl: Collected Stories - simple, beautifully penned with devilishly clever twists. Whoever says that they don’t like them are either lying or illiterate.
• The Secret Dreamworld of a Shopaholic/Confessions of a Shopaholic by Sophie Kinsella. Strictly chick-lit territory but I must confess, it was a fun read. Just don’t bother yourself with the sequels, they are all case studies of milking the proverbial cash cow.
• The Bartimaeus Trilogy by Jonathan Stroud; funnier, infinitely more imaginative and sarcastic than the Harry Potter books. It’s an alternate history fiction with London under the rule of corrupted magicians that derive
  their powers from the imps, djinnis, afrits and other spirits they summon. I
  recommended this to a fair number of people (with diverse tastes) and
  all of them loved it. The trilogy consists of The Amulet of Samarkand, The Golem’s Eye and Ptolemy’s Gate.
• Any of Dame Agatha Christie’s mystery novels for quick, cheap paperback entertainment. The Murder of Roger Ackroyd is the best darn yarn of the genre, in my opinion.

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Four of my favourite dishes

• Malacca’s Hainanese Chicken Rice Balls specifically
  from that shop in Jonker Street after the bridge, on the right side of the
  road opposite that bank building (used to be OCBC but I think it’s
  either Hong Kong Bank or something like that now). Take it from me; if
  it’s not from that shop, it ain’t Hainanese Chicken Rice Balls, hon.
• Fried Prawn Wantan from a shop behind the now defunct
  cinema building in Bunga Raya. I hate seafood with undying passion -
  but I absolutely love these. Nuff’ said.
• Wantan Mee from a shop somewhere near Bukit Cina. The
  sauce they use is colourless so the noodles look deceptively
  uncooked - till you take a bite. You’ll be wondering where all the flavours come from. The taukeh used to have this little stall somewhere in Bunga Raya
  before he opened this place with all the cash he earned from selling
  noodles by the roadside. Inspirational success story, this.
• Ah Kuan’s Hong Kong Fish Paste Noodle rocks some serious
  gastronomic sh!t (no reference to constipation intended). The shop’s a
  corner lot in Mahkota Square. Order the clear soup one; the tomyam
  version is barf-able.

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Four sites I visit daily

• deviantART.com,
  where art meets application! Half the pics in my blog comes from there
  (without the artists’ permission). Here’s my personal deviantART page
  —> Automatic Teleportation Device: Click to Activate 
• Wikipedia; something I can’t live without.
• Rotten Tomatoes; the best site on the web to get movie reviews (and criticism). It’s a decent source for movie trailers and news as well.
• My usual pseudo-social windows; Hotmail, Friendster and The Strategy First Game Forums

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Four places I’d rather be right now

• The United Kingdom! The land of Mr. Hugh Laurie, Sir Ian
  McKellen, Dame Maggie Smith, Ms. Susanna Clarke, Mr. Jonathan Stroud
  and Fish-and-Chips (not fries, mind you -  but chips). I’m such a hopeless anglophile.
• New Zealand. I’m going to retire there one day. See if I don’t.
• In a submarine on a research expedition to the deep oceanic abysses.
• Frankly, any big city will do for me right now after being
  out in the boondocks this long. I need civilization!
  Air-conditioned, mega-sized shopping complexes! Huge-ass bookstores I
  can drown myself in!

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Four bloggers I am tagging (this is a toughie - I’m not sure I even know two other bloggers that visit here regularly)

• Inn Shan
• Joon Keat
• Fu Yew
• Mei Fong, faster restore your blog la. I don’t know who else to tag.

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Yawn,
k0k s3n w4i

"We each owe a death, there are no exceptions."

-Paul Edgecombe in The Green Mile (1996), by Stephen King

Yesterday at about a quarter past ten, I was walking alone back to my room in Nehru when I heard a rapid succession of footsteps from the blind-spot on my left. In a short second, I felt my innards seize up, my heart stopped beating and my head snapped reflexively to that direction.

It was just a kid - no more than 7, I should think.

I guessed my face must have been pretty comical (probably sheet-white with a stark expression of utter horror). The kid’s dad laughed. And there were several K.M.C students hanging out at the coffee kiosk grinning and giving me that "What a pansy!" look.

But they’ve no idea that that pattering sound of feet nearly meant the end of my life three years ago.

Those who live in SS15, Subang Jaya probably know about this pool-place called Club Seven. Every night, after the study rooms in the college are closed (at 10 or 11 pm, I’m not sure now), I would go to this Club Seven, order myself a humongous glass of juice and sit there to continue my study session with San.

That night, we stayed there a tad later than usual. At 2 am, I said goodbye to San after walking her home. After which, I headed back to my apartment - strolling leisurely and - curse myself - very much carelessly alone.

Have you ever had ‘blank’ moments in your life before? Like when you suddenly find yourself about to toss your dirty laundry into the trash can without knowing why do that or how you get there (happened to me many times). Or sometimes, have you ever been to a place with no inkling at all of a journey being made? My mind often goes A.W.O.L that way - same as that night.

I was on this stretch of street that was a slight uphill climb. I have no idea how I got there from San’s place - knowing me, I was very most likely dreaming about something or other - or just plain drowsy and tired.

Then there were the rapid footfalls.

Something hit me like a truck from behind (possibly a flying kick) and I fell sprawling onto the asphalt. I tried to get up but someone kicked me hard in the face and turned me on my back. My head felt like it belonged to a head-banging rocker high on ecstasy and there was the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. Vaguely, I felt hands groping in my pockets and my wallet plus some loose change were taken from me.

After my sight cleared up somewhat, I could make out two men of Malay descent. One was thin with a nasty, snarling sort of expression on his face while the other was a chubby guy who was clearly spilling over with nervousness.

"Keluarkan semua duit dan handset. Kalau tidak, aku akan BUNUH kamu!" barked the skinnier one, waving this knife he had in his hand at my face. You can actually hear the capitalization of ‘BUNUH’ from his tone. That’s the first time in my life that I was mortally threatened by someone who is actually capable of carrying out that threat.

I tossed my hand-phone (which I was holding) with all my strength at his feet, hoping to do some irreparable damage to the phone just to spite that f*ckhead (not a very smart thing to do, I agree) but a Nokia certainly can take some serious beating. Bah.

The sonofab!tch pocketed it. He then bent over me and pulled at my black, Nike schoolbag I was carrying. The knife was probably just hovering inches above any vital part of me. Without thinking at all, I held strongly on to it. The thin guy looked taken back at this - he clearly wasn’t expecting me to do such a thing.

"Buku saja! Cuma buku!" I snapped at him - which was the truth.

He paused for a milisecond - possibly thinking of stabbing me outright. His dirty hand was still gripping at one of the straps of my bag with me clutching vehemently at the other end - a nerve-wracking tug-o’-war between me and the mugger. That was the closest I’ve ever felt to the danger of Death.

Not save-game-and-reload Death, mind you - but real, checkmate, coffin-and-candles Death.

What happened next was a deus ex machina moment. The fat guy, out of a sudden, decided to split and ran off. I guess that made up the thin guy’s mind for him and he hightailed as well - leaving me lying on the road hugging my bag.

I guess that was pretty dumb of me not to give it up, huh?

That schoolbag was a birthday present from San. I guess sometimes, only the threat of actually dying can make someone realize what’s the most important thing in that someone’s life. I never actually thought that the bag meant so much to me even though I carried it on my back for almost three years in all - till it’s so battered

up that I have to leave it in Malacca when I came back for third block in Manipal. I had my grandmother bring it to a friend of hers that fixes this kind of stuff. Guess I’ll be seeing it soon enough.

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But that sound of running feet at night.

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Don’t think I’ll be able to get over that for a long, long time to come.

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Sine cera,

k0k s3n w4i

"If you love her, let her go. If she returns to you, cherish her. If not, she was never truly yours to begin with.”
-an English proverb

Today, I would give my two cents on the topic of Love.

Yeah – big, corny theme. And what would a twenty-year-old loser like me know about Love?

This short story I wrote illustrates all I can say on the subject (I’ve tried my best to keep it as simple as possible). It was inspired by snippets of my friends’ relationships and bits from my own experience. Any resemblance between the characters with real people – dead or alive – was because I was obviously making fun of them.

One point of information though; the story below is NOT a Mary Sue, self-insert or a disguised personal journal entry. It’s a work of FICTION . I’m sick and tired of fuck-tards drawing stupid assumptions from my blog without even seeing the real purpose I penned this in the first place. I’ll repeat; though one of two elements sounded like what I went through, this is just a philosophical essay. Nothing more.

Look at the picture for a second, man. It took me forever to dig one up that underlines my sentiments.

Jayden’s twenty this year. Back in his teen-days, he dated – but none of those girls he hung out with were what he could honestly say to himself that he ‘Loved’. The word was simply too strong.

He had a girlfriend once though. He sort of just hooked up with her in a chatroom before they’ve even met in person. Sounds crazy, huh? But that’s Jayden – all unpredictable spontaneity. I asked him why he did that – and the answer I got from him wasn’t very helpful at all. To quote Jayden, he said “It just felt right”. He wasn’t even worried that the girl might turn out to be a two-ton, wart-covered cousin of the Incredible Hulk.

My opinion is this; Jayden was aware that there’s this world of boyfriends and girlfriends – a world of kisses, chocolates and whispered names that he never knew before. Jayden just wanted to get a taste of that world. He needed to discover whether there’s more to life than what he already had.

I think my Dad called it ‘hormones’.

But Jayden was disappointed – not with the girl though (who was the nicest person imaginable). Rather, he was frustrated that this new world he just stepped into wasn’t much different from the one he stepped out from. But yet, he stayed with her for a some time. Maybe, things just take awhile to be different.

When Jayden was 16, he met Jayce and it was Love at First Sight (gag at the mother lode of all cornies). Don’t be cynical about that – such things do happen. It was sort of like women’s intuition – where women absorbs a thousand subtle details with what they see or hear, process those information in some subconscious part of their brain, then spout out a conclusion without being aware that any reasoning was done at all. For Jayden, everything about Jayce – her face, her attitude, the manner she walks, talks, laughs and dresses – rang bells everywhere in Jayden’s mind. He just knew Jayce was the one for him. It felt so radically different from what he felt for his first girlfriend that he’s completely sure that it’s really Love this time.

“Hormones,” I can hear my dad snorting. I believed Jayden though – I’m still young enough to believe in fairytales.

So Jayden left his girlfriend and planned an all-out assault on Jayce.

“It’s not fair to that first girlfriend of his!” some of you will protest, no doubt. But look at it this way; how fair was it going to be for her anyway if Jayden continued fooling himself and her? I won’t say what Jayden did was right – but it had to be done.

Jayden then devoted every single minute of his days going after a girl that was almost a perfect stranger to him. That’s kind of dumb, I must say – but Jayden had never been particularly bright in his judgements. But sometimes, persistence does pay off. Two years later, Jayce caved in and returned Jayden’s mad, mad Love. Two years were a heck of a long time to wait, especially to a teenager where every second of their youth were priceless. I guess Jayden really did want to prove his Love to her.

They hit off great – at the start. Somehow, things just began falling apart at the seams. It’s one thing to Love. It’s a whole different ball-park when you’re talking about making the person you Love happy. Jayden learnt that pretty early on when he was with Jayce. But this time, Jayden held on – for the simple reason that he Loved Jayce sincerely. Everything else was secondary to Jayden as long as there’s Love. Love will hold things together, he believed.

Nightmare ensued.

The next phase of this unfortunate relationship was an entire two years of a series of breaking-up-in-frustration-and-reconciling-a-day-later. Jayden was totally confused. For two years, he was a tennis ball being hit between “Jayce will be happier without me” and “I want to be the one who’ll make Jayce happy – not any other guy”. Meanwhile, Jayce just got more and more depressed with the whole charade. Jayden was equally eaten up with guilt and self-pity at the same time (Sometimes, I think that Jayden has an emotional pattern more akin to a girl than a guy).

One day, Jayden broke it off with Jayce for good. He had that crazy urge to get back together an hour right after that – but this time, he stuck fast to his decision. It tore Jayce up.

He wanted Jayce to forget him – so he told Jayce that he’s entirely over her. But in truth, he was not even remotely convinced of that. I suppose he did it so that Jayce could have closure – to step away from this wreckage of a relationship and perhaps, find another guy who can actually make her happy. Jayden knew he failed at giving her the happiness she deserved, in spite of how much he loved her.

At this point, Jayden’s twenty.

What Jayden told me after the break up, was the closest thing to Love I’ve ever known;

“In my short life of twenty years, I’ve moved from Puppy Love to Obsessive Love to Possessive Love. Today, I learned Love for the first time – pure and simple Love. I need to let Jayce go. I need her to find someone else who can make her happy. And when she finally does, that’s when I’ll be happy. I still Love Jayce terribly and I will always do even after she finds someone else. I have only one true Love this lifetime and that’s Jayce… forever and ever.”

He met his first girlfriend for the sake of discovery. He had went after Jayce with admirable persistence because he wanted to fulfill his dream of being with the one person he knew he truly Love. He held on to Jayce even though they were both miserable because he couldn’t stand the thought of Jayce being with anyone else but him. Finally, Jayden learned to let go – not out of pain but out of pure, unselfish Love. For the first time in his life, Jayden did something for the sake of Jayce’s happiness and not for something he wanted.

Love should be unconditional.

Jayden’s in deep depression right now but I think he’ll scrape through - eventually. It sucks when you’ve found your true Love and it turns out that you’re not the guy that is able make her happy. Jayden will have to live with that for the rest of his life – living devoted to Jayce and ever wanting her to be happy. But he’ll never kiss or hug Jayce again. He’ll never have children and grow old with Jayce.

.

But that’s okay.

.

Because Jayden Loves Jayce.

.

Blind,
k0k s3n w4i

"’Cause you’re everywhere to me,

And when I close my eyes it’s you I see,

You’re everything I know that makes me believe,

I’m not alone."

-Michelle Jacquet DeSevren Branch Landau

There’s this person that is most dear to me and I would like to talk about her. Let us call her Eve, shall we?

Eve - if I must describe her with a mindful observation on the economy of words - is ‘different’. With that, I meant that she’s not quite the same as all the other people I’ve ever met. And no, I must say that she’s not quite the same as me either.

Of all of Eve’s trait, I admire her for her incredible store of knowledge (much vaster than mine, I must admit). Whenever I start to talk about something obscure, the chances are good that she knows enough for her to form her own opinions - enough to argue with me - about it. I’ve always enjoyed a good argument. Nothings irks me more than someone letting me win just because he/she can’t be bothered to debate with me. Eve’s nothing like that. She’s a trooper and rarely surrenders. Almost always, our arguments never see resolution and have the curious tendency to crop up a month or two later - sparking the bicker all over again. That suits us both just fine.

What really held Eve and I together was our shared love for books and well-told stories. You have no idea how superbly rare it is to find anyone like this nowadays - people just doesn’t give much sh!t to reading anymore. Eve’s a gem and knowing her is a godsend. I must say that one of the best time in my life was spent on one of our crazy ‘book-hunts’. We would travel to all the best book retailers together (even to K.L.) and root out all the second-hand bookstores we come across - just to lay our hands on some hard-to-get volumes we’ve been hunting ages for (we’re currently looking for Lud-in-the-Mist by Hope Mirrlees, a fantasy novel published in 1926). Spotting a book sitting on the top shelf at the back of a dingy shop is a special kind of joy that not many people understands. Eve understands.

Eve carried a cloud of comfort with her that would make me feel that
it’s perfectly alright to tell her everything about me. There’s
something about her that opens locked doors. No one else can make me
want to do that - not my mother, not my grandmother, not anybody. She
understands exactly why I do certain things that perplexes everybody
else. And more importantly, Eve’s not a judge - she’s a safety net.

She’s just too good to be true.

Many people walked by me without so much as brushing past my life - faces without names that I shared a seat with on a bus, strolled by when I was wandering aimlessly in a mall, sat across from in an eatery…

.

Behind one of these faces is Eve.

.

I wish I know which.

.

One of the pains in the life of,

k0k s3n w4i

Faithful readers would know that when I pen an entry, I follow a more-or-less coherent train of thought, pursuing one particular topic with zeal (and to much too deep ends occasionally). That can be really trying sometimes.

It is my contention that the human mind is inherently chaotic and should it be left to wander, it’ll do so erratically (those well acquainted with my living habits should find an analogue there).

So in this particular post, I unfettered my brain and let it say what it wants to say - mostly stuff that I wanted to write about but failed in meeting the right occasions to do so.

• Frankfurters and hamburgers are both named after German cities. I suddenly realised this odd bit of coincidence an hour ago for no apparent reason.
• I’m hunting for this few books that are certainly very popular internationally but oh-so-hard to get in India (or Malaysia); The Temeraire Trilogy  by Naomi Novik, The Ladies of Grace Adieu and Other Stories  by Susanna Clarke and A Murder is Announced by Dame Agatha Christie.
• Capsicums are not hot like chilis (which they are closely related to) because they contained a recessive gene that causes capsaicin to be absent in them. Capsicums are my favourite greens, if you can consider them that.
• The prime difference between me and most of the other bloggers I know is that my writings consisted of thoughts and opinions originating from my constant and incessant thinking (as opposed to documentation of events that actually occur). I guess that accounts for my always being able to write something at anytime I feel like while a lot of other bloggers requires empirical stimulants. I am perfectly aware that that was so because I have no life whatsoever to speak of.
• I have an extremely severe dandruff problem. I’m surprised that I still have any scalp left considering the way I flake.
• Seafood sucks - absolutely, disgustingly foul stuff. Land animals should eat land animals; that’s what I always say.
• I think Scarlett Johansson, Kirsten Dunst and Kelly Chen are hot stuff.
• I find it rather odd that I, someone who enjoyed working and playing about with the English language (be it reading it or writing in it) found so little joy in human interactions. Languages are no doubt synonymous with communication. Why do I suck at it so much?
• I don’t mind it if my room is infested with spiders and lizards (I even stopped the cleaners from sweeping away the abundant cobwebs hanging about). They gobble up all the bugs in the room for me.
• I have decreased sensations on the tips of my middle and index fingers. The first was crushed pretty badly by a car door when I was very young. The second got caught by the double doors of the anatomy dissection hall a month or two ago. If you look at the middle fingers of both my hands, you’ll see that they look radically different.
• Why am I able to give my full, undivided attention to what an author has to say even if his/her book will take hours of my time - and yet at the same time, am such a lousy , unsympathetic listener? I guess it is because I can give books my attention at my convenience and I can stop reading whenever I want to. Also, books don’t expect me to comfort them or say anything that would make them feel better and are generally more interesting than mundane, human concerns. That’s right - my best friends; books.
• I am more likely to help a scruffy, smelly injured stray by the roadside than a human being. My parents didn’t want me to be a veterinary surgeon. Hence - here I am.
• One day, I will travel to New Zealand and plant myself there (maybe after I retire). I heard it’s a pretty boring place - much like me.
• Of all the famous men/women, I feel that I can identify most with Dr. Anton Pavlovich Chekhov, physician and renowned short story author and playwright. He practised as a doctor throughout his literary career, memorably citing; "Medicine is my lawful wife and literature is my mistress."
• I have a terrible, terrible head for grammar (my secondary school essay books are positively riddled with red marks). When I write, I usually read doubtful lines many times over to see if they sound weird.
• Surprises in movies and novels thrill me to no bounds. Real-life surprises upsets me.

I can go on and on, really - but I guess my break is over. The grind is pulling this leash it got around my neck.

A muddling mess of miscellany,
k0k s3n w4i