Thursday, November 15, 2012

Mantra (against chronic work aversion)

Everytime the sight of Excel or Words tab depresses me i chant this to myself.

"One cannot live on timuns alone."

Corrupting, awful, awful, modern life. Sheesh.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Thou shalt write again. (after all this POS is done and checked for)

"There can be no darker or more devastating tragedy than the death of a man’s faith in himself and in his power to direct his future."
                                                             [xxv-xxvi] -Rules for Radicals , Saul D. Alinsky.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Momantai #2

Partner #4: Awak okay la, boleh tahan kerja macam ni.

Chambering: 3

Aku: 2

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Ca va Bien?

It has been a real long while. The sheer level of workload was beyond my expectations. Even now i am still trying to cope with it. That thing called pupillage. My master once asked in jest: ready to give up? a weak smile was my only answer. In truth, i don't give up on things. I  make tactical withdrawals, go for a walk (and some tea perhaps) and go in again for another try. Whatever it is, it is goddamn tiring as hell. Law school is tiring but this is way more tiring. This is the real deal. Now, despite having a few matters on urgent basis i could not help but to indulge in my favourite pastime. Typing crap online.

Somehow,my rekindled enthusiasm with all things skinheads coincide with this Merdeka month. An old interest i admit.  A real WTF moment when i heard about this year's merdeka month slogan. I have to admit though, the one PR came up for was catchier and more appropriate but slogans aside, let us not forget the significance of the month.  Perhaps Najib and the Ultras can learn something from this song below.

More on the Merdeka month later but for now;
Selamatkan Kemerdekaan Ini! Unite!

Monday, July 9, 2012

At times like these, in the middle of the cold, dark night sometimes i can't help but to think of my time in Kedah.

The walkabout has not ended yet. Not yet.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012


there is always something about post-rock that will either drag something out of me kicking and screaming or wring it all out in a flood of confusing emotions that would leave me in the end, a little high.
Its ineffable. Like the music.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

I once read a story about a son and his mother way back in the Prophet's time (PBUH). Don't ask me where did i read/heard it, i don't really remember. The story more or less went like this. A pious son lived with his mother. He was all a mother can ask for, obedient, god-fearing, responsible, a perfect son. Next to the word of God, his mother's wishes he fulfilled to the best of his abilities. All was well with the world until one day the son fell in love with a girl of his dreams. He loved the girl but he loved his mother best. He feared that should he marry he could no longer take care of his mother as the best he could like he always did. The mother saw the son's anguish at being torn in two and so she told the son, "marry the girl". The son, obediently obeyed and so he married the girl. Slowly, marital bliss changed him. He slowly forgot his responsibilities towards his mother until one day, he decided to place his mother, his own beloved mother in a hut at the back of his now lavish house, to be all but forgotten, to fend for herself. There she lived alone until one fateful day, Death came for the son. It was painful for him, very painful for he suffered but could not die. The news of the dying son reached the Prophet's (PBUH) ears. He came and at once he knew the cause of the son's suffering, the mother felt  hurt out of being left all alone in the small hut, forgotten by the son and forced to fend for her old self. Out of the hurt she prayed for God's justice and God's justice favours of the oppressed, mothers especially. Only after the Prophet (PBUH) persuaded the mother to forgive her son did the son passed away in peace.

The story, demonstrates the power our own mother have over the fate of us, the sons and daughters. The power to decide where we end up in, heaven or hell, in the palm of our own mother. But what if the roles the mother and the son in the story is reversed?
Against a mother's prayer, nothing in this world can win. But will God listen to the fervent prayers of a son wronged?

I am rambling again. Its Talentime. The hospital scene always made me emotional.

Monday, April 2, 2012

Paper St

You can't help to think that your working life is a boring one when compared to those in the creative/arts industry. You can't help but to feel awed (and slightly jealous) to hear that resumes can come in a form of a bottled drink when yours came in the boring stat-sheet extolling you prowess in your field with your big, friggin' face on it. Or when you compare the lack of constricting rules with your hum-drum working life, bogged down and chained from here to the end of days with rules/regulations and all manner of ways Man can think of to so-called 'maintain the social cohesion' of the society.

Sometimes it made you wish that you met that single-serving friend on board a flight who'd tell you:

"I want you to hit me as hard as you can."

and you did.

the legal profession could really use a Tyler Durden right now.

that, or a club where the lawyers, male lawyers beat each other up to pulp without having to worry about a lawsuit coming their way. It is in its way, just like futsal or whatever sport lawyers indulge in only that they don't really talk about it. The bruises and the broken bones, or the lost tooth or two did the talking. They scream: In these times of effeminate men aplenty and of overt femininity, we are Men and we live. 

I would bet my laptop on it that most if not all lawyers had a fellow lawyer (or even a judge) who they would love to land their fist on for whatever reason. Even if it is considered crude or primitive by today's standard and not to mention, frowned upon by the profession itself, just imagine how cathartic it would be; you hate the guy and even if the feeling is not mutual at least it is out of your chest and through your fist. Ask any man, 9 out of 10 would secretly agree, its instant stress relief.

Hell, if there is such club, i'm joining. We are all men trying to stay men.

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Words of Wisdon

"Bagus..bagus.. kerja rajin2 pastu nanti bila kau dah top boleh kerja dgn Mob."

That's what my cousin told me when i told him i am doing alright right now.

Yeap, too much Godfather for us.

But then again...

Friday, March 16, 2012

 aku berdiri di bawah sinar lampu jalan dan berdiri, cuma berdiri. Menyerap segenap bunyi, bau dan mainan cahaya. Deruman motor di kejauhan, bunyi Apit menghafal sifir di rumah nenek, imej KLCC dibaluti awan lembut yakni asapnya sendiri, angin malam berpuput lembut. Rumah nenek, rumah nenek yang sangat bersejarah dan di mana aku membesar, datang perasaan yang membuak-buak yang tak terbendung.

Aku sayang kampung aku.

Biarlah ada yang kata kampung aku cuma suburbia berrumah ala kampung, ini kampung aku. Kampung aku. Aku membesar di sini. Jika datang hari celaka bila aku perlu memilih kesetiaan antara kampung ku dengan kesetiaan yang lebih besar seperti Robert E. Lee perlu memilih antara kampungnya Virginia dan United States of America, aku tahu mana pilihan ku.

Ini kampung ku, aku hidup di sini dan jika perlu, aku akan mati di sini.

Aku sayang kampung aku.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

Always two of them, a master and an apperentice. Guess which one i am?

blood and bloody ashes!

realizing that all that i had typed previously had not been properly saved is one of the most irritating thing ever in this world. Ever. Not one but two, even three posts that i have drafted somewhere else now lost forever. Damnation!

Anyways, the short of it: i had gone for an interview last week. It was one of the worst interview ever but in the end i got the job. Silver lining and cloud stuff indeed. Today, after having re-affirmed the fact that i am an enemy to the trees, i have taken the first step towards getting myself qualified as a lawyer. The first two forms Form 1 and 2 has been filed. Lots of running to and fro. Add in nail-biting last minute rush to the counter (them numbers seemed really useless for the seemingly lack of counters for the High Court matters. The chaps over at the Sub Court counters were content to twiddle their thumbs or completely engrossed with their computers over some matter suspected of non-work nature). After almost five (5) hours and help from friends but most importantly from the Missus, the deed is done. Three (3) more forms to be filed this coming Thursday and then three (3) more whenever the nine (9) months would be nearing its end and hey presto! you've got yourself an avocat.

Oh well, that is all that i can think of to write right now. More to come later when time and ability allows me.

Thursday, March 1, 2012


I hate Bangsar.

Seriously i do. How can it be for a place that is purportedly call itself the crib of the yuppies and expat not have more than 5 mamaks there. It is beyond comprehension. Heck, it is disgraceful. A big disgrace for Bangsar.

It was drizzling and my stomach was rumbling like mad. Add in an appointment cancelled on the last possible minute you have got yourself a recipe for a man ready to go berserk at any moment. The image a plate of sizzling hot mee goreng mamak played out in a loop inside my head and my stomach rumbled in approval. goreng mamak.. or so the tune my stomach played out.

Through the slight drizzle i saw salvation in sight, two mamaks within a fart's length from the UOA building under whose shadow i took shelter. Already damp from walking, nay, jogging from my house to the Lrt station for the appointment i decided to wait for the drizzle to peter out before making my move.

Of the two mamaks in operation adjacent to the Bangsar Lrt station, one has questionable halal status. The other closed up as soon as i reached it. I took a look at the time, it was nine. NINE!! what kind of mamak closed up at nine? It is against the first rule of Mamak business principle: A mamak never ever ever close up before midnight.

The image of mee goreng mamak danced in my head mockingly. by this time i swore i can even smell the damn thing. Nasty thing hunger is. It does things to your head.

Desperate to for mee goreng mamak, i looked around for alternatives and saw the signboard of Public Bank in the distance. A bank meant a cluster of commercial center and commercial centers meant there's bound to be mamaks thereabouts and thus i set out in the drizzle to look for my mee goreng mamak to sate my demonic hunger.

I was in a trance while i walked from where i was to the shining signboard of Public Bank in the distance. God knows how i managed to cross the busy street only to find myself in the hip and happening part of Bangsar. Jalan Telawi. I have and still am not familiar with that particular area of Bangsar. My geographical knowledge of Bangsar is limited to the areas adjacent to the Lrt station for i have no particular reason nor desire to be in Bangsar(except for the Readings thing a while back).

I walked around in circles, looking for a mamak. I even texted a friend from Shah Alam who is now a localized Bangsarite (or is it Bangsarian?) who confirmed that there is a Pelita somewhere around Jalan Telawi. Moments later i found the aforesaid Pelita. I looked up to the raining sky above and thanked God for the enterprising Indian Muslims whose joints are all over the place but i joy and prayers for the well being of the mamak was soon to be shortlived.

Due to the drizzle the Pelita was jampacked with people. I must have looked like a moron there. Standing, all damp and forlorn looking for a table for one. I cursed my rotten luck. It was hard to tear myself away from the enticing arome of Pelita but in the end my rumbling stomach won, i had to find an alternative. The demon residing in my stomach must be sated else it runs amok to the ruin of all.

Humanity was saved from total destruction by a chance encounter with a burger stall somewhere along the way. Daging double special with all the sauce dripping. Dinner in the rain had never tasted better. In the same breath i praised burger stalls i cursed Bangsar. I curse thee!

Bangsar now has the dishonour of being in my list of places i shall avoid at all costs. At all costs.

Shame on you Bangsar. Shame on you!

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Why Don't You Get a Job?

Now that the results came out my status as a glorified couch potato has been duly certified. Not that i am not grateful for the prolonged break from anything productive, i am but there would come a time when you would be tired of all the idleness. Tired of just lazing around the house in the truest sense of the word.

I did however  put in some effort at letting most if not all legal firms nearby of my availability to be the running dog of the partners, to be willingly put under the yoke of servitude for the next nine months. Alas, to no avail. I must say that i am tired of waiting for the email that never came. Its been nearly a week. One would wonder whether  my queries regarding the availability of an opening was even received by the firms.

The old me of two years ago would greatly relish this prolonged holiday but not me. Not my current self.  Despite the manic urge to do nothing for the foreseeable future, another part of me would constantly remind me the need to grow up and start doing, i dunno. anything useful.

I suppose the email server of the firms broke down and my email never reached them. Kot. Bugger.

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Apa Di Atas?

Tidak ada apa-apa di atas ya. Well not much actually. But come to think of it a lot has happened since i last updated this blog with something readable but me being me most of it i have forgotten already.

Ermm, actually updating this blog took a lot of courage on my part aided chiefly with insane amounts of liquid courage (Frost's rootbeer that is. Not liquor i assure you). Why the fear you ask? After a prolonged lapse of updates and almost a year of cloistered life in the Seventh Level of Hell i fear that my English is not what as it used to be. For all the claims that command of English language is necessary to learn the Law we might as well learn Telegu for all the texts, tracts, treatises, and case laws are written in the tangled mass of Legalese. Yes, Legalese, the tongue in which the Law speaks with. Mostly archaic or never-heard before English which would make you grateful that they invented the Internet, throw in some Latin and Legal French and hey presto! Legalese. So to come back to the matter of hand, no. No habla ingles, por favor. We conduct our businesses strictly in Legalese (except when its the Bahasa Melayu Perundangan class). So you get the picture. To rub salt to the already rusty English of mine, the tight schedule we had to keep in order to keep ourselves alive in the course meant that personal time to pursue your own hobby is somewhat limited. Even if we had time to spare its almost always spent on eating or sleeping. It is a real simulated office hell, i kid you not.

Where was i?

Oh yes, whats up with me.

First off, i am (hopefully) done with petty office politics (just because its simulated doesn't mean there aren't any lame asses like in the real office). While some of my colleague has went off to join legal firms (the real deal that is), my own plans faced a slight delay due to some unforeseen circumstances. So now i am simply enjoying my newfound status of being one of the gainfully unemployed or to put it politely, i am in between jobs.

My daily life alternates between looking up for legal firms on the Net and polishing up my resume with ridding the Mohave desert of mutated critters and raiders in between the two. Occassionally i would go out of the house to stretch my legs, maybe go for a long walk here and there as recommended by most physician. That is life, moving at my own pace. Oh yes sir, i am in no hurry to join the rat race. I shall have my cup of tea now while the rest of the world race themselves to death. Come to think of it, the term in between job aptly applies in my current state for i am in a transition from a mere universiity student to a full fledged adult and usually in a tribal society they would have some initiation ceremony of some kind with those face-painting and stuff. I guess mine would revolve around creating a kick-ass resume and cover letter. Perhaps i should be content with that.

But still, it would have been nice to have an initiation ritual of some sorts.

This state of not doing something in return for a meagre salary is of course, temporary like the old pasar. Once the results are out then we shall see what we shall see. If all bodes well for me then with a hit of a button a flurry of emails containing my vital statistics would reach various legal firms afterwhich the wait would begin. Ok la, not at the touch of a button, buttons, satisfied?

You know, come to think of it. Circumcision can be considered as an initiation ritual to adulthood. At least it was for those who had the opportunity for the deed to be done on a banana tree trunk. But that was of course way back in time where the use of anasthetics were not as common like now and where the rivers were still crystal clear. Nowadays, its in clinics (with no banana tree trunks involved) with a jab to the nether parts. I wonder if they still had it done that way in the kampongs.

Anyways, there is still a wee bit of time left until we know and accept the outcome the exams so there is still time for me to savour this time in between times.

Perhaps i ought to savour this time with a long walk with many things to think about.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

A New Years Wish (Lambat sikit)

Neil Gaiman said:

I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes.

Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You're doing things you've never done before, and more importantly, you're Doing Something.

So that's my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. 

My wish for this year is simple: Live. May you live your life to the fullest and with no regrets.

Its a little late but who cares. Right?

Four papers down, another to go. To the last drop of ink!