Friday, October 16, 2009

In All Honesty...

In all honesty, I have fallen. A long time ago, in fact. And have never been able to stand up again. Perhaps I have, but not as tall as I ever did before. I have been hiding so much, concealing so much. So much so that it's now a habit, this mask I wear as I am among others. When was the last time you truly felt happy? Perhaps 'happy' is misleading. When was the last time you woke up and not thought "please just let this day end"? It would be silly to say every day is worse than the day before. But in all honesty, I hope with all my heart that this day would end, just so that it'll be tomorrow. Because tomorrow is much closer to next week. Which is much closer to next month. Which would mean I'd be much closer to 2010, Senior year, graduation (if that happens), work, and whatever the hell comes after that. And yet I am not saying I merely want school to be over with. I wanted that so badly back in high school, and what has that brought me? Despite all it's deprivations, I actually enjoyed school. Or at least I didn't feel so out of my skin while I was there. You try hard to find your footing--in my case, I take years; I won't be surprised if I only learn to accept my life as it is right now the day before I am due to return for good. Then one day you lose it all, and you're back at square one and before you is a mountain to climb which you just look at and think it's just too much. Not now; gimme a while, perhaps. Or maybe you even try to find the right motivation. And you spend so long quipping yourself at base camp you actually make a life out of it and conveniently forgo doing what you initially intended to. Obviously, it's a confidence thing or perhaps an ego thing. Seeing those you thought equal or below you now better off; seeing people do shit while you waste your life ruing missed chances.

Upbringing. I have always been in schools and societies where I have been trained to not be the failure. Look at how people frown upon the idiots who can't do their homework, who fail in school, who can't get all A's in public exams. I may sound a tad arrogant there, but back when your eardrums were burning from everything your teachers had to instill in you, that was your bread and butter. Do you seriously think we do well just because we want to? Well right there we have an incentive to do well just so as to not be the flop, the disappointment, the loser. Hardly the ideal reason for learning. Perhaps going to a so-called elite school has scarred my perception of those who chose other vocations instead, those who choose to bring home the bacon with their hands instead of their heads. But then again, it's just normal for society to frown upon school dropouts and those who do things different.

Religion. Do I pray five times a day? In all honesty, no. There are too many questions, too many doubts. I don't doubt the existence of a higher power, of God and Heaven and all of that. But I haven't been doing what is expected of me, and then an exam comes and I want to say a little prayer and think 'only in times of hardship do I turn to You', and out of embarrassment, stop. When we go out, and you say "hey let's go to the surau", I don't avoid the situation because I am anti-Islam. If I join you, it's because I don't want to look like an asshole when compared next to you. Hardly the ideal niat for a prayer. I want it to come from within, like it did a few years ago. But nothing comes from within unless you nurture it. And finding a means of doing just that without anything/anyone patronizing, or forceful or insincere--that is my goal in terms of the spiritual as of now. Or at least it should be.

White lies. I don't believe in them. You tell one thinking it's nothing but it's a slippery slope and you soon realize one stupid little detail is now ready to screw you over. One day, many years ago, I chose not to. I chose honesty. Which is why I tell you what I think you should know. Which is also why I told her everything, despite knowing the outcome. Not the smartest thing to do, you may say. Sure, I could have withheld some things, twisted this and that a little to make it seem more presentable. I can't live with that; knowing you or everyone else happily thinking everything's peachy when there really is a catch. As far as I'm concerned, there's an elephant in my room and that needs to be addressed. But ultimately you know you can't lie to yourself. Perhaps transparency is just my thing. Maybe I like knowing people's intentions and their feelings on a certain issue because, having once been given the benefit of the doubt, I now know how easily one could misinterpret a situation. And from that, I in turn try to make myself as clear as possible so you won't hear "B" when I say "A". But seriously, if I told you I enjoyed your company, I don't see any reason why I made that up, and I probably said so because I want you to know that. If I told you I appreciate something you did; same thing there. If I said I wanted this or needed that--I don't ask people for much, but when I do, it's usually no joke. If I told you I set you apart, or that I think you're different or that you're special, or just plain bodoh, that would be because I am convinced it's true. If I told you I love you, or indeed abhor you--two words I choose carefully before speaking them--in all honesty, I meant that with all my heart.

Mistakes. I regret them all. But what I deem a mistake, may not seem one to you. And what you deem as one may not seem like one to me. Perhaps I was too hard in telling people to not be so "in your face" about things. Yes, we're all hyped about the new changes in our lives (the better ones, at least). But ultimately, as brilliant as we think whatever we have is, others have pretty much something similar. Universities, for example, will all have lawns and quads and dorms and libraries and statues of some honorable person. Fine, yours may not have a fence that's painted every day, or a leaning metal pole with people walking on them, but surely it has its own idiosyncrasies. Perhaps my mistake is in being a hypocrite: in doing what I hate, practicing what I preach against. I guess even writing this in itself is a form of hypocrisy on my part. I hate this, I really do. If someone else wrote it, I wouldn't give a rat's ass about it. Ranting about your troubles. Other people have theirs too, tak kecoh pun, etc., etc. No, this isn't a form of Stockholm Syndrome. Do not assume this will happen on a regular basis. I just need a medium to let some things out.

Cheating. I once sneaked to the bathroom to review notes during an exam. On another occasion, a friend and I took the easy way out by taking pictures of exam papers before the exam. That's, it really. And maybe playing the game cheat, or bluff, or bullshit. I make a horrible liar. I can't even get on a bus with someone else's ID. I can plan a lie for someone else--a very good one at that--but when it comes to executing it myself, I fail miserably. Which brings me to the issue of loyalty. Yes, it is a virtue. But only if you do so by forgoing something else that's rather valuable. If you are loyal just because you try as best you can and time and again fail at infidelity, then you shouldn't be lauded. You're an asshole, and a pathetic one at that. And the sad thing is that maybe I am headed in the direction of becoming the aforementioned pathetic asshole. Who knows?

Loss. How many close ones have died? For as far back as I can remember, I lost both maternal grandparents. My grandmother was bedridden for years before that, and I wasn't quite close to my grandfather either. When they died, it was...just an occasion. It didn't have an impact on me as it should have on others. It's been years now, and everyone who matters to me are still fine and dandy. I have always had this feeling that I am somehow incomplete for not knowing this darker, morbid side of life. How people can be there one day, and lie six feet under the next. And this feeling extends to other forms of loss too. Of how a parent can just up and run away. Of the dynamics of families in broken homes, or even polygamous families. I am not saying that these are interesting and that I want a piece of the action too. Far from it. Of those I know who are part of one or more of the above, they actually seem the happiest people of all. But if you peel away the layers, you can see that deep down inside is concealed a very delicate, scarred creature. But they stand up and live another day; they live carrying their sad truths along with 'em 24/7. What I am interested here is:
  1. How they've dealt with it, and;
  2. How it's made them stronger.
I am not one to tempt fate. If anything untoward were to happen to me or my closest relations, I really don't know how my life would go on. I keep very few close to me because I don't trust easily. Of course, many others suffer a worse fate, but I believe the effects on our lives and especially our emotions and conscience is all relative. If you only had a dollar and I took it, you're done for. But if someone had $100, I'd have to steal 100 times more from him (than I did you) to ensure he'll feel just as miserable. As far as your head is concerned, you lost that much percentage of whatever. Perhaps that's a horrible example, but if you don't get my point, I won't lose any sleep. But anyway, I can't blame my parents for overprotecting me, now can I? Some things they just don't want you to know or see or hear. But for your own good, for your own toughing up, you have to experience these things. Like car accidents or seeing one of those fights your parents have when so much more than just expletives are thrown at each other. Nobody would wish something like that to their own child. But in my case, I see my parents argue once, one of them raises their voice and--boom!--the waterworks begin. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and see how deformed my face looks. That kind of crying. You have no control whatsoever of your face. That kind. It saddens me that I am that weak; that when I try to tell this to someone--whaddya know--that somebody's parents has an extremely twisted storyline, and that's just the way that somebody's life have been ever since. Perhaps after all these years of more rights than wrongs, I am under the illusion that everything is fine and dandy the way they are, and that the slightest change of the status quo is bad. Oh, but it is.

Cynicism. It's a good thing, really. For one, I would rather think you an asshole and feel embarrassed and have to eat my own words later on if/when you prove me wrong. Instead of thinking such wonderful things about you, only to be let down by your shortcomings. Cynicism is actually enlightening. It helps you see what you wouldn't usually see. Take me for example: I will never jaywalk. Do you think that's down to me being a toilet-trained law-abiding citizen? Hell, no. I listen to my iPod wherever I go on foot. If the sign says 'Don't Walk', I don't walk in fear of getting hit by a bus. Not because the policeman will catch you and scold you. Or the law says so. Or just because. Ambiguity is in every single little thing we do. No one's a true altruist. In whatever case you can think of, there will always be something in it for so-called budak baik. Besides, it is very easy for people to conceal their thoughts or their intentions. Their faces may betray their what their heart feels. You'll never know if someone has a hidden agenda, an ulterior motive or a hidden ace up his sleeve. Sure, it's not always a bad thing, but sometimes we fail to see these things and find ourselves feeling a tad bit used or tricked in the end. I'm not asking you to be an insecure prick; just be aware of things that you find don't add up properly.

Names. Seriously, people. Spell it right. Especially your friends' names. And say it right too. Mikaeels, don't sell out and let people call you Michael instead. This is a fundamental aspect of respect: get your shit right in hopes that the level-headed others get theirs right too. Names are extremely personal. Some names come with a bit of history in it, be it a lineage or simple in memory of someone great. I already hate you if you think it's okay to not be too perfect when it comes to this. Yes, the world is such a colorful place and it's all down to variety. You can choose to be different, as long as it's not wrong. If I said "I need to go home", and someone else wanted to say the same thing but not repeat me verbatim, he could say "I got to head back". But if you wanted in on our little farewell and chose to be different by saying "Yeah, I need go back", then you are just asking for a punch in the face. Sure what you say will be implied as meaning the same. But it isn't, is it? Languages have their structure and grammar for a reason. Of course it's not always straight forward to grasp at, but you still do things the right way because that's how they intended it to be, whoever they may be. Names are just like that. Unless you're physically challenged and are unable to pronounce the S or the R or the L, then fine.

Dayus. Don't be. One minute you're in love and everything's so perfect you're practically hopping around throwing flowers everywhere. Next, you're a bitter son of a bitch, who never really said all those things, who really quite regrets the whole time spent together, who really wishes it never happen at all. Don't be like that. On top of making yourself look/sound like a total idiot, you lose your self-respect, your integrity. If something that seemed so real could be written off as nothing much (or nothing at all), who's to say you're friendships right now aren't just as hollow, should something happen? What are we, exactly? --who are we? The Way I See It, you take everything you've ever seen, heard, said and done, add to that everyone you've met and everything you know--that is who you are. Your past defines you. If you want to go around denying something, or indeed someone, ultimately you are denying a part of yourself. Sometimes we look back on ourselves and burn with embarrassment, or get filled with rage at the fact that we were once so stupid. That's good. It's good that we acknowledge our actions, our responsibilities.

I admit there is hardly any continuity in terms of sticking to the main topic. But in all honesty, I don't give a rat's ass about what you may think.

A Touching Farewell

41 years to date (Kuala Kangsar – Prep School MCKK)

On the 4th January 1968
I meet this lad from Kelantan at the gate
Small of build, fair and Afro head?...
Hair not black like us but brown instead
His speech was eloquent In English so fluent.
A lad from Kelantan?
Where English was hardly spoken!
Friends we became
And the journey began
In school that bred A brotherhood of men
Off to England we then went
Student life all hell bent
Never for a minute did we falter
For us the challenge was itself an adventure
We returned with ideals and wanting change
But change came, to us instead
Little that we know what lie ahead
Family and fatherhood was laying in wait
As our children grew
Their lives entwined
Into the fabric that we designed
Now their lives and ours become one
For them, their journeys too had just begun
You did so much in short a time
Exceeded in every goals put on the line
You left a legacy for all to see
On every highway and roads we will remember thee
Now you left us with only memories
Your calling came so early
We will miss you in all we do
Until then my dearest friend adieu

(Al-Fatihah 1955 - 2009 – Dato’ Dr. Ramli Mohammad)

Azizan Pilus

Friday, October 2, 2009

First CouchSurfing Experience

If you've never heard of CouchSurfing.com, well it's a website where you search for (people's) couches/beds/floors to stay the night, instead of staying at a hostel or dorm or hotel. You sign up, and basically do the standard social networking site thing, except you also put up a description of what you have to offer--beds, sleeping bags, floor, couch, etc. I found out about this website when I was in Austin, Texas with Danial. Signing in at the Muséo Americano Smithsonian, we had quite a long talk with the guard manning the desk. He's a Vietnam vet, and had a peculiar interest in Muslims. Or "Moslems" as he says it. Anyway, from suicide bombers to malaria, the conversation somehow got to CouchSurfing and I checked it out as soon as I got back to Pittsburgh.

Three months later I got my first CouchSurf request. Three guys from Kansas City, Missouri are up for a drive, just because. His profile had some pretty good ratings, housemate gives the okay, so I thought "why not?". They drove to two other cities before Pittsburgh, CouchSurfing in each too. They had a red '91 Chevy Cavalier which they bought for $800. One of 'em said it made sense because they always travel together and the car only has three working doors. "Little Red", as they called it, proved an able vehicle.

When they arrived in Pittsburgh, I was pretty surprised (and a tad bit worried). At first glance, one guy looked pretty decent but had tattooed arms, another guy looked like the Big Show, the other guy looked like a stereotypical redneck. But they were all pretty nice people (if you can tell from all but a handshake and greeting). I brought them to Primanti Bros. for a sandwich they won't forget in quite a while. Big Show got excited. Despite being in a tiny car for hours, he was enthusiastic about it, and was telling us how he saw it on TV once. I don't think I've ever seen anyone unimpressed by a Primanti Bros. sandwich, and these three really enjoyed theirs. They told me about Arthur Bryants in St. Loius; apparently, that barbecue house just throws everything on a paper in a basket, and just roll it up and serve you. That does sound enticing.

They asked me what was great to do at night so I brought them up Mt. Washington. We couldn't take the incline because Big Show was afraid of heights (hahaha). This is the umpteenth time I take people on this guided tour of my adopted city and I just like how people are awe-struck by the view up there. We then drove to the North Shore to see the stadiums and get a look at the submarine USS Requin by the Carnegie Science Center. They kinda liked the South Side which we passed by earlier, so we headed there to bar hop. We settled at a place interestingly named 'The Bar' and they had a few drinks before we headed back. At my apartment, there was only one space available to park and the idiot in front wasted so much space so we had to go in and out nine times. It was amazing, really. Once snug inside the space, the car was actually half an inch from the car in front and less than three from the car behind. Respect.

They weren't exactly minimalist. Each had huge backpacks, one had Dell's version of the Toughbook with a Verizon 3G internet thingy, one was the official photographer. The laptop weighed what felt like ten pounds; it's "designed for an eight foot drop".

The next morning I had class, so I gave them directions to Pamela's for breakfast. As I finished class, they just got off the Just Ducky Tours just to see the city in the day, and were on their way to the Andy Warhol Museum. They wanted to meet up just to say thanks and grab a bite before they left for Cleveland. We drove to Squirrel Hill to get something akin to fried chicken and once we parked one of them smelled "something deep fried and delicious". We walked around trying to follow the smell, sniffing down one street after another, but then it started raining so we just went to Mineo's for pizza and cannoli.

What I guess I could take some good things from their short stay. Don't judge the book by the cover. You can never really tell this to yourself enough--people will always prove you wrong. Never assume anything. You never know what you'll end up doing, and with whom. Bar hopping, eighteen-point parallel parking, sniffing streets for the smell of something "deep fried and delicious". Sometimes it's nice having an injection of the unknown in your life. Things tend to be boring after you've settled into a rhythm or a routine, so rediscovering places with accompanying virgin eyes is really fun.

Already looking forward to my next Surfer.