inferiority complex thy suffer…

(*Whispers from background* )
" yergh. this post is sounding selfish by the day. my college and i again?"
" ha’ah. itulah, the wrath of pampering. indulgence leads to ignorance.But ,she’s even worse.
If my calculations were correct,she’s currently on top of the vanity phase.Which explains her all too often whinings recently"
" And here i am thinking she’s made of something tough.Then, someone please poke her from her sweet-as candy world ,we need to get her back on track"
" She was,once.Sunway had mellowed her in some sneakish way.U go poke her"
" Asallak, why dont you go poke her?"
"Ey,who’s idea was it in the first place?U go do it then?"
" Why? suddenly u have’nt got the balls? U go poke her.."
" Eh? U go poke her.."
" No,u go…
" I donwan..u go.."
"U go..
" U -lah go.."

Right.Enough.I heard you.
Unsubtely, few people had been complaining how my posts are sounding more and more journal-like when its original intention of its existence,truly, was not.

It was supposed to be a an avenue of intellectual discourse,expressing opinions, and information sharing so that we,youngsters of the future would not turned out to be a whole bunch of self-centric, unapreciative, spoilt brats who cared more about latest edition of nokia handphones rather than the choking API readings.

So much for an intellectual discourse.

No need to fret anymore ,folks.I hearby declared of the new rebirth of my blog where i vowed NOT TO. i repeat ,NOT TO complain so much and be such a prat in words.( Readers are most welcomed as my self-appointed witnesses in this most historical ceremony).Backtracking was the word of the day,when i looked back at all my old posts and relished the days where i could engage in serious issues with absolute ease.

Deep breath everyone,here goes.

Hazy days

Living in high rise buildings possess its own share of boons and banes.As of late,the banes emerged more prominent to dwellers which results them thanking profusely the living men who invented air-conditioners.Thirty feet above sea level and figuratively touching the sky,occupiers,if to be described, are practically swimming in the sea of micro-particles of dust,grime,and ash- haze.
( Introduction)

Tribute to those whom began to notice; this is certainly not a good sign.Malaysia is not even yet, declared a developed country and yet we suffered a classic backlash of ‘go-concrete,not green’ policies.Which made us ponder, do we really want Malaysia to become developed? As far as  things are concerned, citizens were quite content with the climate as it is.

If studied, a third world image that the country potrayed currently is the exact mould that shaped our identity.
A couple of urban areas here and there is fine ,but we need our share of kampongs scattered around the country also.Enjoyably,they function as a place of retreat,a solace after the hectic hustle and bustle of city.These kampongs enclaves also retains and symbolises our strongly-guarded values-synonimly associated with demure,berbudi-bahasa and sopan-santun malaysians.We shuddered at the fact,14 years from now,when all kampongs went through urbanisation process, would eventually lead to the saddening  distortion of a unique alma mater.

Imagine the phrase ‘ balik kampong‘ being no longer relevant.

So we threw the question again.Does being developed is what we really want all along?

P/s : The writer noted that she is suffocating having to breathe recycled air-cond air which is a way better option rather than choking herself with carbon-monoxide infused air.

College going might sound posh and neat and oh-so-advanced, but trust me,my keen eye of observation detected several noted happenings that made me unlearn what i was drilled to do back in school.

English: If i were to be completely,no-holds-barred, blunt and honest, english was, trivial back in school.( no offence,Miss Zil ).If an exam were to be held the next day,only the night beforei would have struggled to cram in informations.Memorise few stuff from The Pearl and short stories would guarantee one scraped with a "B" to the least.C was unheard of unless on very rare occasions where students wrote their piece of essay of-topic.Or didnt do at all.

College english ? one word.
Phew.

One need to be a certified lab com frequenter because the demand for research in english is super-daunting.Questions was to be answered with in-depth thoughts and opinion in which me, still found it hard to arrange , spell, and express my thoughts in an orderly,organized,and compact manner.The bullshitting art of " the longer the sentence,the better" could never be applied here.So,screw me.

Math: Never once i ever thought that math required a LOT of explaination. Every move or statement must based on certain grounds or reason.Sheesh. I could not even explain things to myself,let alone to it on paper.School math was rigid and streotypical. Think of handling a machine.Step  1,…. Step2…..Step 3…. .
College math,I almost considered this subject as a form of art; with the amount of imagination,thinking and logic involved.

Physics: Now here’s a subject that reminds me of math.Gone were the days one would had to invent a machine using physics concepts as tools.All calculations babe! No wonder i often need constant reminder that this subject is spelled as P-H-Y-S-I-C-S as commonly i would accidentally mistook it as M-A-T-H.

As an icing on the cake,I do not know how to write anymore.Most written assignments were typed, i already forgotten the days where muscle crams inthe hand and blisters on fingers were  ubiquitous. ( ah,reliving the SPM days)

Neither do i need to replenish my blue ink.Doodling with the past, one exam will used up the whole ink.Every now and then,i would scourge for quality blue inked pens as Kilometricos and Stabilo’s all failed to live up to the standard s of SPM’s amount of writing.
Thank God for Carreras.
Now,exams were written with a pencil.Go figure.

There you go. A list of learning progresses that ended in a cul-de-sac.

P/s ; The writer is currently in a super-pumped Hari Raya mood.15 days to go..

How can one not love this country?

Their love affair with everything food and cuisine is like a blessing from God. Previous post echoes how easily enticed I am with food even on normal days.One of the main reason I always look forward towards the end of english class( No, its not because of you Mr Tan ) is because lunch time is after english.A routine excercise being observed religiously untill now was Dennis and I will head to the cafeteria and secured a seat.Here,the fun begins.

What to eat? What to eat? What to eat?

Now, its that time of the  the month again where  glucose deficiency and dehydration is deliberate.Cafeteria frequenting was temporarily stopped making way for a more exciting food browsing experience.

The Bazaar.

I couldnt even start about how exciting the whole experience of going to a Bazaar Ramadhan. Especially the big ones in Melawati.My only complain is the wallet-hurting price.People are taking advantage since it is only a once in a year affair,( now even more with sugar and chilli price going up).

Apart from a thick wallet, one must be armed with a certain knowledge before flexing into a full fledge buying spree at the Bazaar to prevent dissapointment.

Resourcefullness is the key.Which has the best ayam percik? Which makcik sells the most succulent kuih seri muka? Which nasi kerabu seller offer value for money? Roti John abang mane  whips out a mean sauce for them?.Be forewarned though, a long waiting line is expected.

Wait, dont get discouraged just yet.

Weigh the calculations,better to wait and taste heaven rather than rush and regret it when it dawned to you later that what you ate for berbuka was crap.Opportunists feed on festive seasons. Do not be surprised to find the mechanic shop around your neigborhood was closed and found the owner opening a tau-foo-fa stall in Bazaars.Patience is indeed virtue here.Puasa,puasa..

Oho. One vital strategy. Early birds gets the most worms.latecomers, dont come and complain to me  that u came across a makcik that say to you with a genuine kesian look,

" Alamak adik, tinggal ekor je ikan bakar nih. Amik je lah, sedekah puasa.."

I’ve imposed a warning.Unless, you want free stuff ( albeit the leftovers )

List of not-to-be-missed bukak puasa food

1. Nasi kerabu/dagang/ayam

2. Kuih pelita

3.Apam balik

4. Roti John besar punya!

5.Ikan Bakar  cicah air asam

6. Putu Mayam/piring

7.Popiah basah

8 . Murtabak

9.Ayam Percik ( good ones are a gem )

10.Air tebu/soya/kelapa ( freshly squeezed)

11. I could do this all day

Bon appetit’

Very,very peculiar,this trek isn’t it?
Just when one thought they have summitted to the peak,even one stumble upon a root would effortlessly result in tumbling down the hill like a bouncing rubber ball.
We’ve all been through this.
Like catching a fish with bare hands.Careful as one are in treading the water,the fish slipped away at the very moment they clasp their hands.
The fish is laughing, one must knew. The fish achieved its goal.
Carefully ,extremely carefully calculating its moment to escape when the predator was at his most superior confidence state.
The predator of course go HAHA!GOTCHA!.

Only at the initial stage.

All intent and purposes focussed in adding the intensity of frustration of the predator .Bloody fish.
Where did the fish go,? the predator wondered, staring unbelievably at his bare hands.

Ok. what a metaphoric crap.This was a pathetic attempt to whine about my miserables’ in the most subtle means possible.As you can see, the urge to lash out on how hopeless and worthless i felt for thyself is being ingeniously constrained as much as possible. How badly i didnt want to associate myself with myself, is beyond verbal description.You just have no idea.

Mayday. Someone save me. Looming over my thoughts are serious doubts about the credibility of what they say " Hardwork is the key to success".( now i’m whining properly ). Go on and prepare,prepare,prepare untill you get sick of it.When things still fall apart, ur already paper-thin confidence become shattered into pieces in front of your very eyes.

Perhaps its the mounting workload, ( short story,interview,english seminar,math teaching project, math quiz, all squeezing with one another in one week)
Perhaps i didnt get to see my parents for two weeks now.
Perhaps my handphone broke  which explains my continous restlessness.

It would have been perfectly fine and dandy if i was left alone to lick my wounds. As everything time such a thing happened,it has been always been that way.

If he didnt go to all the trouble in making me look good when I,on the contra,immersed in self -loathing beyond breaking point, i will just close my eyes and count so that the day will end.

When sorrow involved another individual,a new visitor came marching in.Guilt is the name.To me,dissapointing anyone,is a complete no-no.Go browse the archive (January 2006).I believe people will find it a  a worthy testament.

Clap! Clap! Clap!,congratulations farah hanani,you just broke your self-imposed taboo.

This is when i ran to the toilet and close the door  tight.

I am very tired.

P/s : To whom it may b concerned,deep,deep,deep apologies.

I could not help it. My mind impulsively broke into this P Ramlee song whenever i heard the word Lepok mentioned.

" ~lalalalalalaa…( ting ting ting) Pok, Pok, Pok,Poook~, Bujanglah  Lepok, Ada mancis tak ada rokok …"( grainy pictures of P.ramlee, Ibrahim Din and A.R Tompel doing the hikky dance playing in mind )

So whats with me and the Lepok thingy? Its Lepok, Lepok the waterfall.Lata lepok in Ulu langat.

Just one of our series of trekking ventures after conquering Bukit Tabur and Sungai Chilling. Mr Tan would not come so Kourosh lead the way with an Ipod in hand.Blessed with great weather,we made our way to the top of the waterfall in approximately 2 hours.Thinking that we might have to cross rivers, i opted to wear sandals instead as opposed to sport shoes. I left them at home anyway, so i havent got much choice, have i?

Personally, this trek is more slippery, with red earth and muds suggesting an infestion of leeches.Its amazing , wearing sandals and all that i’m not even bitten by one.Joyce articulated that my blood type must be a B.

"Leeches hate B blood types"- reasoned Joyce in a supposedly serious tone. Theres still much to be backed up with a more scientific explanation.

Upon reaching our destination, our excitement was somewhat marred by another big group of trekkers already settling down and crowding the place.Aiseyman, i want the whole place by myself!

Suddenly, in the background came shouts " Aohohoohaaah!!!!!"

Oh,dont you mind that Mr Varga, thats just kouroush sliding on the waterfall, the crashing water as the slide.Thats his third time by the way.

Its a lata. Not a full fledged waterfall, where the water falls at a right angle ( 90 degrees ). The water flows at a 45 degree angle thus we could afford to act like we’re in Sunway Lagoon.

The highlight of the trek must be running down with Nisita, Dennis, Kourush and Amir on the way back. I have my own reasons, its already 4 o’clock, and i havent performed my Zohor yet.That puts running into perspective.Along the way, i went " ouch, ouch, ouch " because of newly formed blister under both side of my feet.Dont ask how did i get them. Hint : Sandals

Driving home, it was all to be expected that we’re going to stuck in a jam at Federal Highway.My watch reads 5.30 p.m and its raining heavily. After a KFC dinner with Jay, Joyce and Dennis,i was finally back home safe and sound.

Read Mr Varga’s account of the lepok waterfall experience

my geometry lecturer at lepok

P/sThe writer refused to tell the story where their car, THE ONLY CAR, got lost  on the way while others were blissfully eating nasi lemak due to potential embarassment

Time: After subuh.Just had first ever sahur this year. Thank You Mom.

Great. This is just great.

Its the eve of Ramadhan and I’m down with a fever.My productive plan of optimising the weekends dissipated in  front of my very eyes.My routine consisted  of  sleep, sleep, sleep and more sleep between occasional tending of a runny nose.

Sigh*

I pity my mom. Usually i helped her around with her usual weekend spring cleaning but this time i could just watch.Any contact with the dust will trigger a sniper induced sneezing fit.Forget about my first terawih at a nearby surau.There was simply no way i’m making myself look like i’m  advocating the ‘germ speading mission’ armed with Bugs Bunny tissue packets.Thus, I had to stay back at home instead. Sheeeeeesh.

I guess all the negative energy had been pent up for a while  like a balloon and now shaking uncontrolllably to burst out.

Lets see what were the probable causes , shall we?

There’s the mid term marks, the Sahabat Annual Dinner, the upcoming Physics test, the confusing lab report, and Dr Gannon. Next in the line is the meeting with TNB’s personnel next week. Haiisy.( Searing Headache )

What r u doing here when ure supposed to be lying down on bed.?

Good question.

Blogging is different allright?. It should not be compared to other errands like doing homework, reading,physics revision which are all stress related.

Blogging is therapeutic. I find it a convenient outlet to channel all the bad aura where i can just go bollocks and write !#@#$$% without having a care in the world. Grammar police be damned.

See? My head feels even lighter now. Told ya therapy is good for you.

Okay, you got me. Its the aspirin my sister gave me.Lately she’s being very nice. In normal circumstances,we would be witnessed fighting about which song should be downloaded in the MP3. Not bad having a double eh? I think she missed me.Yelah, dah 3 minggu tak balik kan? ( I know ure cringing, aijud )

I hope this Ramadhan brings much more promise.Amiin.

P/s the writer cordially invites all her muslims friends for buka puasa at the Sunway cafe and terawih at SSD every Wednesday. Provided if you give donations.Or at least, tolong angkat barang.

Dont miss to drop by at our Bazaar Ramadhan held at the foyer!

gee.patriotik la sangat.

one thing to point. staying in the comforts of home is the most UN-patriotic thing to do during merdeka day. ( those who read yassin or doa selamat, good for you )

Honestly speaking, in true post-independence fashion,merdeka day to me is , just another day. It never qualifies as a day to look forward with anticipation like  Hari Raya. The best bit about Merdeka day is its a public holiday = no school = yay!.

Nevertheless, this noble day is also most capable of irking one’s  ire. Especially when our Merdeka day paraphernelias are of grainy sephiad documentaries narrated by a voice similar from  TV pendidikan amidst the military music soundtrack. Yo’re talking about a country who boast the Multimedia Super Corridor here, ladies and gentlemen.

I can stand parades.But i speak of loath towards celebrations in malls.Whatever crap they brag about patriotism is nothing more than a facade beneath the sugary commercialization.Celebrations are fine, just dont come up  with the tagline, " Show your patriotism, join the Merdeka bla bla bla… ".

The novelty had run off, but i still want to write about this. Last merdeka eve,  a grandiose countdown celebration on Merdeka eve was held in Sunway Lagoon . Lets just say i’m among the performers.Its been a jolly good experinece, since i have never took part in a performance of such a large scale berfore.
Of course, as performers, we’re  bound to have perks.( Think free rides and water slides )

Its a good show and boy, how i had i great time. Even the show surpasses my expectations,the whole affair started at 9.00 p.m sharp as printed on the promo pamphlet, a rare occasion in a place where delays and lateness is an ubiquitous culture. If the pamphlet says it started at 8, you can easily come at 9 and never miss anything.The VIP’s will ALWAYS be fashionably late.
But not here.

I’m practically itching to state my verdict that the show holds irony one too many. Lets focus one by one.

THE MEDIUM OF LANGUANGE.
Jakeman HItz.fm is the MC, so the whole show was conducted in English.
Which is ironic.
Its Merdeka Day.The Birth of Nationhood. Surely the Bahasa Kebangsaan is the spoken languange.
Evodently it was not the case here.
Some argue that its hosted by the Private Colleges Association, therefore English is the preferable languange.
I dont get this, so suddenly private colleges is not from Malaysia? Why couldnt they conduct the show bilinguallly? ( so that international students can have a clue of what we’re saying )

THE CROWD
The ratio between international students with malaysian students among the crowd is 50:50.
Seriously.
Which is perfectly understandable because why would All Malaysians go to Sunway to celebrate when they can go to KLCC instead to watch Mawi.
I could not contain my hilarity when Ferhad asks us to sing along few famous Malay songs with him but only few was commited, while others stared with blanked eyes
Ferhad, they dont know. Youre asking the Indonesians.
Merdeka day with the Indonesians.
How so funny.

THE SINGING AFTER COUNTDOWN.

Showing the true colours of a spoilt generation, it was a tad too sad to see only a handful memorises the lyrics for patriotic songs synonimous to our Nation. The Jalur Gemilang, Kerana mu Malaysia, and Tanggal 31.
The giant screen was on the opposite of the stage and when the singing part comes, everyone was turning to the projected lyrics on the screen. It was an awkward sight,seeing the VVIPs  were all waving the flags while looking at the crowds’ backs where by right,they  should be proudly looking at the beaming faces of the crowd.

memorable experiences aside, i dont feel more or less patriotic after the show.

p/s thank you TNB. kaching!! $$

i rarely copy paste others work in my blog,but i came across a very fresh story on the web which i thought might be interesting to share.

This one managed managed to intrigue me.

If you manage to intrigue farah hanani shamsuddin, that says a lot.

Enjoy!

Terry Bisson

They’re Made out of Meat

"They’re made out of meat."
    
"Meat?"
    
"Meat. They’re made out of meat."
    
"Meat?"
    
"There’s no doubt about it. We picked up several from different parts of the planet, took them aboard our recon vessels, and probed them all the way through. They’re completely meat."
    
"That’s impossible. What about the radio signals? The messages to the stars?"
    
"They use the radio waves to talk, but the signals don’t come from them. The signals come from machines."
    
"So who made the machines? That’s who we want to contact."
    
"They made the machines. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Meat made the machines."
    
"That’s ridiculous. How can meat make a machine? You’re asking me to believe in sentient meat."
    
"I’m not asking you, I’m telling you. These creatures are the only sentient race in that sector and they’re made out of meat."
    
"Maybe they’re like the orfolei. You know, a carbon-based intelligence that goes through a meat stage."
    
"Nope. They’re born meat and they die meat. We studied them for several of their life spans, which didn’t take long. Do you have any idea what’s the life span of meat?"
    
"Spare me. Okay, maybe they’re only part meat. You know, like the weddilei. A meat head with an electron plasma brain inside."
    
"Nope. We thought of that, since they do have meat heads, like the weddilei. But I told you, we probed them. They’re meat all the way through."
    
"No brain?"
    
"Oh, there’s a brain all right. It’s just that the brain is made out of meat! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you."
    
"So … what does the thinking?"
    
"You’re not understanding, are you? You’re refusing to deal with what I’m telling you. The brain does the thinking. The meat."
    
"Thinking meat! You’re asking me to believe in thinking meat!"
    
"Yes, thinking meat! Conscious meat! Loving meat. Dreaming meat. The meat is the whole deal! Are you beginning to get the picture or do I have to start all over?"
    
"Omigod. You’re serious then. They’re made out of meat."
    
"Thank you. Finally. Yes. They are indeed made out of meat. And they’ve been trying to get in touch with us for almost a hundred of their years."
    
"Omigod. So what does this meat have in mind?"
    
"First it wants to talk to us. Then I imagine it wants to explore the Universe, contact other sentiences, swap ideas and information. The usual."

< 2 >

    
"We’re supposed to talk to meat."
    
"That’s the idea. That’s the message they’re sending out by radio. ‘Hello. Anyone out there. Anybody home.’ That sort of thing."
    
"They actually do talk, then. They use words, ideas, concepts?"
    
"Oh, yes. Except they do it with meat."
    
"I thought you just told me they used radio."
    
"They do, but what do you think is on the radio? Meat sounds. You know how when you slap or flap meat, it makes a noise? They talk by flapping their meat at each other. They can even sing by squirting air through their meat."
    
"Omigod. Singing meat. This is altogether too much. So what do you advise?"
    
"Officially or unofficially?"
    
"Both."
    
"Officially, we are required to contact, welcome and log in any and all sentient races or multibeings in this quadrant of the Universe, without prejudice, fear or favor. Unofficially, I advise that we erase the records and forget the whole thing."
    
"I was hoping you would say that."
    
"It seems harsh, but there is a limit. Do we really want to make contact with meat?"
    
"I agree one hundred percent. What’s there to say? ‘Hello, meat. How’s it going?’ But will this work? How many planets are we dealing with here?"
    
"Just one. They can travel to other planets in special meat containers, but they can’t live on them. And being meat, they can only travel through C space. Which limits them to the speed of light and makes the possibility of their ever making contact pretty slim. Infinitesimal, in fact."
    
"So we just pretend there’s no one home in the Universe."
    
"That’s it."
    
"Cruel. But you said it yourself, who wants to meet meat? And the ones who have been aboard our vessels, the ones you probed? You’re sure they won’t remember?"
    
"They’ll be considered crackpots if they do. We went into their heads and smoothed out their meat so that we’re just a dream to them."
    
"A dream to meat! How strangely appropriate, that we should be meat’s dream."
    
"And we marked the entire sector unoccupied."
    
"Good. Agreed, officially and unofficially. Case closed. Any others? Anyone interesting on that side of the galaxy?"
    
"Yes, a rather shy but sweet hydrogen core cluster intelligence in a class nine star in G445 zone. Was in contact two galactic rotations ago, wants to be friendly again."
    
"They always come around."
    
"And why not? Imagine how unbearably, how unutterably cold the Universe would be if one were all alone …"
    

the end

Only now i can fully comprehend our forefathers’ gripe regarding the post independence generation. Obviously,there has been continous whining how we, the young generation take the freedom we currently enjoy for granted.One prominent accusation is how the values that our ancestors cultivated relentlessly over the years;the essence of neighbourhood,brotherhood, unity, good camaraderie,strong partnership is now sadly fragile.

No offence intended, but once my carefree mind thought that this was a thought from a delusional old man.One must understand before judging my naiveness, that i was "diasramakan" ( conditioned in a boarding school system) for 5 years. Thus, i could count myself as lucky for given the chance to practice brotherhood on a daily basis. When 350 bright-eyed students was condemned to live in box roughly the size of a classroom, ( our dormitories), it was perfectly natural to develope into a tight knit family. Both sufferings and joy paid a visit, but i never recalled an occasion they were confronted alone, always as a unit.Hence, for me to think that our forefathers’ claims were invalid was understandable.

Originally, how we came to adopt the aforementioned values is when Malaya was under colonial oppression.To overcome struggles,community oriented living was the key of survival.It was beknowned that our grandfathers once knew the whole kampong and its family members, true like a one big family.If one misfortune befalls a family, the whole village will mourn as well, just to illustrate how great the extent of dependence of one another back then.As one Malay saying goes,

" cubit peha kanan, peha kiri juga terasa sakit"  .

That is, if any attempt to metaphorise the act of that stature was to be done.

We’ve all heard stories from the good old days.One can always count on the neighbour next door to do any favours; even taking care of the family.Nowadays,it is unheard of such trust placed upon a non- relative, particularly the neighbours.

Some might blast me as unfair, as i was comparing two blatantly different situation.The argument often was that today,the environment is neither full of hardships nor we are forced to live within the constrains of a box so the probability to form such lifestyle is miniscule. Besides, remembering the names of your whole block seems irrelevant when all your needs are well catered.This is the modern-age.Help is just 911 away.

However, i continue to wonder wether this is a good excuse? I thought the practice of such values should be passed on regardless of the setting. If not, how are we to defend our sovereignity from future threats if we do not even know each other.I guess being chucked into an environment that epitomise the hip and urban did put everything to perspective.

I could dish one tip to one who wish to recognise this worrrying trend.

Go live in a condo, an apartment or anything as such.

Rest assured one could witness the alarming rate of individualism. Take me for example, i do not even know my housemates’ name, what more step a foot in their rooms.I was so used to barge into anyone’s private space anytime i felt like it in previous living, it was hard now to accept that contact between my housemate was limited to glances of ignorance in the bathroom.Not even a word of utterance, save for a few rare smiles if i’m lucky.

Dont say that i havent tried, but all efforts proved futile. I clearly recalled an incident of exchanging pleasantries followed by minutes of hanged silence. It just felt too awkward to query wether i could join them for dinner.

Now i just dont bother.Neither do them.

Which i would helplessly point out that it wasnt healthy at all if you live in the same house.One should remind each other to switch off the lights, to lock the door, to keep the house tidy and it would not work if contact was non-existent.

To think that living under one roof would generate a lot of late-night gossip sessions in the living room between fixes of caffeine.

Therein lies the tyranny of development. Pursuits of material progression overstripped even the essentials of a conducive living environment. What kind of a creature have we become ?

My advice? Go back to the basics. Hectic globalization tend to make people confused. Whatever our elders instructed us to embrace, observe them. After all, there is every ounce of truth in what they said.   

P/s :The writer knows that this might be out of topic but she was apalled why noone ever complained about the ridiculous high price of Crocs when it was just a stupid piece of coloured rubber.

Especially when she badly wants to be the proud owner of one.

  I sufferred a considerable amount of bruises, slashes of cuts, blisters, had wood splinters embedded in my flesh,and my muscle joints were bloody tight; bending my leg would shoot tremendous pain along my now feeble legs.( analogy:pain felt upon waking up the next morning after a 10 km cross country race the day before)

But so what.

Blasting fun was the word of the day when i went trekking up to Gunung Bujang Melaka, *scratch that,Bukit Kutu, *oops, wrong again! Sungai Chilling in Kuala Kubu Bharu. Impeccably, such change of plans are fine example of what they say, " You can only plan, but only God determines".

Put simply by Mr Tan as "sheer stroke of luck, unforeseeble incidents that occurred, and reasonable decisions ", the original plan to hike up the ardurous trek of Bukit Kutu in frasers Hill were changed to a relaxing stroll up the Chilling waterfalls instead. Worthily noted that unforeseeable incident were delays at a mamak stall in KKB with its super slow service.An embarassment to the mamak francise’, i might add.

KKB. Ah, it brought back very fond memories.It was utmost unsurprising my sense of direction was triggered by a familiar alert, The Stanta Supermarket, i struggled extremely hard in containing my excitement.You can conclude that it was a mission that i failed miserably.You know  what happens when a person lapse into a nostalgic mode,she begans to blabber oh-so-eagerly, pointing out landmarks, showing directions, telling Joe( the driver) what to expect.I hope Joe, Farish and Nisita will forgive me for picking that time as one of those inexcusable moments.Blame it all on me for being a kampong girl through and through.

In essence, it felt really good to be back.

Granted,trekking is no stranger to me, i’ve done it in a couple of occasion beforehand.But this one was different.First, its a whole new circle of friends. Once ,i went with fully clad, long sleeved, trek-suits adorning bunch of people,but here i went with people with sleeveless and shorts.Aptly said, i was the only one with a long pants and a tudong. The hallmark of my fascination of this trip was the diversity of the people going. On one part we had city boys and city girls who had never seen a river before in real life,and then we have two very loud Iranian lads, a Canadian couple looking very much a tourist, a couple of chinese girls who’s capabilities of trekking at a fast pace will fool their demure ,  girly looks, my new found Indonesian friend,and of course,the one and only Mr TMC and Co.Interesting as it is,i remembered only going to a very organised trekking camps complete with a certifiable guide, but this one was full of last minute callings.There was a point where we were not even sure wether we’re going or not that morning of the trip as we were one short of a car.

Like most waterfalls, this one was as spectacular as the others, the water was freezing as ever, the current was extremely strong , and huge boulders of rock litter the area. A stop for a picnic was inevitable.The boys went for a dip and did some pretty passsable aerial somersaults jumping from 3m high into the chilling waters.Not wanting to be left out, i did one jump too, being encouraged by Nisita. So exhilarating the sensation i felt, i went for another jump.Just that nobody ever bother to remind me that the water was so cold, i shivered throughout the whole picnic.

On the way back, Don mah lead the trail with me behind him followed by Joe, Judith, Gaby and Carolina.Suddenly, God felt it was convenient to let rain pouring down.Alhamdulillah, its  rahmat i know, but i ended up soaking wet. At first, Don broke into a run. " Maybe if we’re fast enough we can beat the rain, " he suggested.

It sounded very smart then so we ran too, bagpack and all but in the middle of it , "Brushhh",it poured heavily akin to have a pail of water poured onto our heads.Oh well.I might as well walk.My tudong was sticking to my head while i am seriously convinced my shoe was collecting enough water for a goldfish to swim alive in it. Heck, we arrived first to the car and that was all that matters.As for others, they came out alive and dandy apart fom poor Kelly who sprained an ankle having to trip from a rock.I reckoned her smart choice of footwear ( flip-flops ) also contributes some percentage to the damage done.

You bet i am certainly looking foward for the next one.

Click these links for pictures ; images of sg chilling

P?S Special thanks to Neone,Adrian ,Mr TMC, Mr Leon Varga and gf,Ameer, Kourush,Farish, Joe,Kelly, Wai Chen, Judith, Carolina, Gaby, Kamini, Nisita,and Mr Don mah,for making this memorable moment possible.