Continental Drift

Everything changes with time. Cells die, humans grow, mature, age, and experience senescence. Stars form and eventually die. Nothing is constant; yet the only constant that has been present since the dawn of time is time itself. Time causes change. Change has been omnipresent throughout time.

 

So, I shouldn’t be really surprised that my high school classmates don’t really keep in touch with me, or with each other , in fact ; and I should learn to accept that this is life. Everything and everyone changes. But this harsh new reality is really foreign to me. I’ve barely stuck my toe in the water, and yet I have already felt her frigid, ice-cold shivers.

 

The group that I was closest to in high school rarely keeps in touch with me anymore. So I guess I should just scour the globe for a new clique. Not that I’m not part of one now, but it was nice when it lasted. (is this a break-up?)

 

Everyone else has friends of their own. Too busy to mind your pitiful existence. Too busy to even meet you up for a drink. Too caught up in their new lives to spare time for their old ones. I guess I have been guilty for doing this on several occasions. :/

 

So, I guess this is life. Where continents coalesce , and eventually drift apart. Where people come together to interact and become friends, only to metamorph into strangers in the end. Where all good times/things come to an end, with time.

 

Time – the destroyer of all things.

 

Now I really wish that I was Hiro Nakamura.

 

-Spacem4nSpiff out-

More Doors. I will be simply walking (or rather, falling) into[through] them.

With the dreaded SPM results 9 days (or less) away, I will be swept away in torrential paths of life. For now, I’m stuck in a whirlpool, disorientated and dazed, with multiple exits on all sides. Only the metaphorical centrifugal force can deliver me to any of the metaphorical doors, with the ‘form 6′ door at the bottom of the liquid hurricane.

On a very relevant side note, the song, ‘Guessing Game’ by Hunter Parrish (Yes, Silas Botwin of Weeds[And yes, he sings]) just came on.

It’s all a guessing game, you can’t get better at it.
I wish I had a say, but life won’t let me have it.

This game of ‘Fate’ and ‘Destiny’ played by a very meta/Godly version of The Sims is really getting frustrating, not to mention stressful.

But, that is life. Like Robin Scherbatsky once said : ” You can’t just jump to the end. The journey is the best part.”

Stepping through the door into another stage of life, I suppose. The pupae stage has come to an end. These few months after SPM are the cocoon stage. But I am far from ready to face life.

-Spacem4nSpiff out-

Seefood? See my middle finger? oo0oo

This movie only deserves five words from me.

Waste.

Of.

Time.

And.

Money.

-Spacem4nSpiff out-

Dreams with a very weird combination of people and events. Number 10.

Gotsa run soon, so a quick list of what happened and who was in it.

I was walking through a mall in penang.

Met a primary-school classmate.

Found a spider in some stranger’s pocket, flicked it on someone’s (a female student) head.

Was driving down the road from Gurney to Tesco with my friend by my side.

Heard of  a ferry/cruise ship capsizing off shore.

My classmate teleported (i don’t know but that’s what happened) back to the mall where we were a few moments ago.

Saw secondary school classmates (malay girls) scurrying into a van.

We were looking for a map of Penang.

Went down a little hill, with a fountain at the base of it.

Saw a few morons with a bag of ice on their heads, sitting on the fountain ornaments.

Saw blink182 (Yes, Travis, Mark, and Tom) taking a picture of with said fountain behind them.

And then, I heard “Hearts All Gone” playing. It was very loud. I turned around, but nobody was blasting their stereo anywhere near me. Then I realized : It was my alarm. ಠ_ಠ

-Spacem4nSpiff out-

Rite of Passage.

Here it is, my obligatory 18th birthday blog post. I know it’s only the beginning of the day and I shouldn’t conclude the whole day just yet. But I have a feeling that it is going to be a bland one.

Coincidentally, “Rite of Spring” by Angels & Airwaves is playing at the moment. WMP really has a knack for proper timing.

 

Being 18 (in some countries, 21.) isn’t anything special, really. I am not in an aboriginal tribe where the transition of a boy to a man is of the greatest significance. That being said, this yearning for a special occasion has implored me to do something crazy and memorable. And the only thing I can think of is a tattoo. (I know that you’ll go all ಠ_ಠ,) but in tribal, hierarchic societies since the Mesopotamian era, rite of passages normally come with a physical modification which signifies that an individual is no longer a boy, but a man [more often than not, a visual marker, i.e.:Tattoo or scar] and the transition into adulthood is usually accompanied with a role change in society (essentially, from taker to a giver. From a receiver to a provider. [insert innuendo/pun here]) but I’m not really feeling a change at the moment.

“Maturity is something that must be gained or learned, not bequeathed or grown into. “

I forgot where I’ve heard this from, but I have assumed this as my philosophy for quite a long time. (Or perhaps I just made it up by myself some years back when a few of my and my parents’ friends say that I am too matured for my age; just to adapt and feel better about myself.)

People that have called/texted/messaged/tweeted so far [12.51am] (in sequence,) : Sean, Sasha, Mayo, Lyris, Adham, Emolynn, MaddKiwi, , Farhan a.k.a. Chef, Charissa. I love you guys & girls. Thank you for brightening up my day. Or rather, for now, night.

 

-Spacem4nSpiff out-

My first troll IRL.

It was a misty morning, a few minutes past 8am. I was 13. It was during an English class, taught by the tyrannical Ms Ng Yoke Ooi (whom shall henceforth be known as “EggYoke”).

She was teaching us about male and female nouns like “air-stewardess” and “air-steward”.

She wrote down numbers one to ten, and told all of us to get up (simultaneously) and write down a male and female noun if we knew any. EggYoke told me to wait for a few seconds to let others have a go [as I was the best one in English in class (and somehow, looking back; I felt that I was her pet. *people start chanting "Teacher's pet! " *] and finish off any empty ones.

When a few of my classmates started heading back for their seats, I got up and looked for a noun which still lacks it’s corresponding gender pair. There was still about 4 to 6 students in front of the blackboard. I saw the noun “Gentleman” and noticed that it still lacks it’s female noun. I frantically picked up a piece of chalk, wrote down “gentlewoman” (because most of my classmates weren’t very bright in English and I was sort of a dick, knowing that I will get away with it since my teacher wouldn’t suspect a student like me to be that dumb) and got back to my seat. As I sat down, about 3 students were still standing in front of the blackboard. I was trying very hard not to grin like a stupid idiot as I would stick out like a sore thumb.

When everyone sat down, EggYoke, who was gazing out of the window, proceeded forth and analyzed the words that were written.

Generally, all were correct except for the one I wrote. I was literally pinching myself to stop myself from laughing or even grinning.

As expected, EggYoke asked the class which smartass wrote “gentlewoman” instead of “lady” and nobody dared to admit. I was casually minding my own business, daydreaming and stuff ;the usual.

She was obviously unhappy, even a little angry. Seeing as no one would admit, EggYoke gave us extra homework on the subject. Haha. And as per usual, I was exempted from it. Till this day, nobody knew (or at least, nobody confronted me about it) that I was the dickhead who gave everyone extra homework. Thankfully, almost none of my classmates read this blog. :trollface:

 

And that was how I trolled my class.

 

-Spacem4nSpiff out. -

Memory.

So, Paul started chatting with me, out of the blue. It was a bittersweet moment, with a dash of a deceased childhood-memory. We had this amazing friendship going on when he was still here but when he left, it was like he died. Banished from my life. At times, I ask myself whether do they really exist or not. They could have just been fragments of my imagination. Imaginary friends. There, I said it.

But he’s not the Paul that I used to know. He’s just a doppelganger. A totally different person who just happens to look like Paul, and a bitter and rude one, at that.

He only exists in my head. In my memory vault. Not in my life. Well, not currently. Does it really matter whether he exists or not? I’ll never be able to meet him again, anyway. Not in this life. Since he isn’t relevant in my life right now, he’s just as good as dead, right?

 

Is it bad? For my mental health, in this context. Treating people who aren’t present in your daily life as deceased, so you won’t miss them; won’t think about them; forget all your memories together; and never expect any miracle regarding them to happen (like magically reappearing in your life again.) Perhaps this is why I am so anti-social.

They’re just that. Memories. Neurons. Like a trail of binary code embedded in my brain. Like deeply encrypted video files. Never again assuming a physical presence or form.

Arrivederci, memories.

 

-Spacem4nSpiff out-

The Chamber of Secrets hath opened.

Warning : Back-story to my life, my family. Just for future generations to know.

- I have always pictured that my family was one of those stereotyped families with no conflict and tension whatsoever. Turns out, I was wrong. BIG TIME WRONG. Maybe my parents wanted me to have a “normal” childhood. I know that some people would think that it is not wise to put details on the web but I feel that I am a very worthless target for identity thieves.  -

As it turns out, my maternal grandfather [of which shall henceforth be known as M-Gdad] was (like his forefathers and my paternal grandfather [ like my M-Gdad; he will from now on be known as P-Gdad] ,) an opium addict. So much so that it made my M-Gma leave him (because he gambled his (or, rather, our) family’s (goldsmith)  wealth away. And my older M-Uncle, being the eldest of four, assumed the role of a father in my mother’s family and got a job and took care of his younger siblings (mom & co.)

Today, I also found out that my M-Gdad had remarried and has a son [possibly more]{citation needed} (I only know of one son because my younger M-Uncle has met him before). So, I have a half-uncle.

Also, apparently both of my parents come from a family of goldsmiths who have lost their (its) wealth. However, this claim I am still unsure about it since my P-GGdad (Paternal Great-Grandfather) was a carpenter (Could my P-Gdad have been Asian Jesus?)  [and has an adopted son (Hokkien people call it as 'K-Kia' ) who snatched all of my P-Gdad's carpentry equipment and tools {which is worth a lot today as it is antique} after my P-GGdad died].  My P-Gdad was an insurance salesman who has accumulated a substantial (not like a fortune or anything) sum of wealth but it was more or less whisked away by my P-Uncle [of whom I am not close to]; even my P-Gdad’s insurance was not spared. He took everything, but my dad (being the eldest, assumes the role of the leader of the familia) and P-Gma didn’t want to squabble over the matter because they didn’t want to cause conflict during such a saddening time (According to my mother, this happened within mere days after my P-Gdad passed away). So, that is why I was; and will, never be close to my cunning P-Uncle.

As for the genetic aspect of me, my brother and I [according to my dad & his siblings] got our height from our P-GGdad (the opium-addicted carpenter). He was 6′ 4″ (6ft 4in) [193cm]. He, too was scrawny; much like my brother and I. So, that’s a genetic trait which is a plus [and can be cited as a 'pro' when attempting to "woo" {if you know what I mean} a (short) girl ]

My mother’s family (in the aftermath of my M-Gma leaving my M-Gdad) was very poor and my M-Gma left my mother and her siblings in the care of my M-GGma. But they could only afford to care for one , not four. This forced my M-Gma into working (she worked as a domestic helper, and baker in Singapore [I have only heard of this two; possibly more]. My elder M-Uncle who had already finished high-school went looking for a job to support my mom, and her younger sister. My elder M-Aunt, following in my M-Uncle (her brother)’s footsteps; went to work. She worked as an English teacher [whom hasn't stopped working until 8th February of 2012 {retirement}] My younger M-Uncle [whom is still older than my mom] has to depend on himself to get through school. He now possesses two degrees (One with relevance to science while the other, business). His story was a classic “hardwork & luck” story which really got me motivated. He couldn’t afford to get into Australian Matriculation after high-school, so he went for form 6 [Back then, it was known as "A-Levels" (high-class lah tu. Under British rule.) ] and was extremely active in extra-curricular activities and that helped him to secure scholarships [with the aid of teachers (he was a tad bit of a teachers' pet ) because it was past the scholarship application deadline] . He worked during semester breaks in Australia while his (wealthy) friends went travelling. [He kept saying :" What to do? Poor ma."]

My youngest M-Aunt (who has passed away on my birthday [7th of March] in 2009) went to study {and subsequently, work and live} in Australia (or ‘Stralia , as the Ozzies say it) with a very noble intention : To help all of her nieces and nephews (moi included) to study in Australia and to help my younger M-Uncle (her second brother) to migrate to ‘Stralia. If she were still alive (and had not married that man, that insensitive and extremely co-dependent man), she may still be very alive today and I may have possibly be headed to ‘Stralia after SPM. Well, down the drain, that went.

Forget not your roots, your story, your history; and learn.

My brain is straying. I should probably stop now.

Looks like I’m not from a picture-perfect family after all!

 -Spacem4nSpiff out-

Things Left 4 Dead has taught moi.

Now, ya’ll know how much of a fan I am for everything zombie. Left 4 Dead 1/2 has definitely played a major role (Major Role, *salute*) in developing my zombie fetish over the years. Here’s a few life lessons that Left 4 Dead has taught me.

1. Never approach a crying woman. They will bludgeon and severe you like a weeping torturing machine.
   

   You have startled the witch.

2. No matter how hurt are you in life, there are always little commodities along the way which will help you to patch your wounds.
   

   They also make awesome cakes.

3. Some young kids will try to crawl on your head with their neediness/annoying innocence and steer you out of your way.

hunchback of Notre Doom.

4. Everyone is fighting the game of life.  The only bummer is that some of us are better because we have chainsaws and others have baseball bats.

5. Drug addiction (in this case : Anabolic Steroids.)  turns you into a monster.

I have always wondered why their pants never rip open like their shirt. This also happens to the Hulk. They only gain upper body bulk, nothing below the belt.

6. There are people who just jumps into your life out of the blue, only to devour you, and leave you. To. Die.

Hearing his high-pitched "DIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE" in the game still gives me an adrenaline rush.

7. You have to coordinate, time, and plan your actions. That’s how you fend off 24 people from hounding on you.

8. Learn to handle fire. It may harm you, but it can burn the shit right outta your enemies.

This is not what I meant.

9. Learn to shoot. You don’t want to hurt your friends/family. Be it with words or bullets.

And being my paranoid, OCD self who hates odd numbers,

10. In life, people often dump shit on you. And most often than not, other shit often follows closely behind. You just have to know how survive and pull through.

Be it : This shit.

Or this shit.

Shit-taking often translates to money in the form of monthly salary. But they also scar us on the inside, not only the outside.

Games teach me things. I can always say I am much wiser after finishing a game.

Special thanks to ‘cakeartistry.wordpress.com’ , ‘cosplayisland.co.uk’ , ‘left4dead.wikia.com’ and ‘nanasparadox.com’ for the pictures.

-Spacem4nSpiff out-

Boredom has reached a new high.

So, I have made a Casual IAmA (Casual I Am A) regarding my horrible experiences in Pumpong here. Talk about being bored.

 

Meanwhile, I felt like I did some charity or something by getting my friend Adham a job for a month instead of letting him rot in his house for another month before he leave to UniSel. Gah.

 

And what the fuck am I doing up so early? I slept at 2.45am and woke up at 8.19am.

 

 

-Spacem4nSpiff out.-