new guy

we had a new guy moved in last week.

my housemate, the turk, left us. his workplace - he's a chef at chicago's hyatt - couldn't extend his visa no longer, and so he decided to go back to home for good.

a nice guy, that turk, a good housemate too. i'm gonna missed goofing off with him.

our new housemate's from the suburbs, waukegan i think. name's mark, white guy, and young. well, relative young la, compared to me. he's studying chemistry, grad studies, at the UIC. looks like an okay person.

a week into his moving in, i already noticed some odd habits of his. he has a tendency to let his things lying around the apartment, and today i saw two shoes and a backpack and jacket lying on the floor. on the livingroom floor!

but, hey, i have no complains. i'm cool like dat.

my other housemate, the pinoy, has an odd habit too. he tends to forget to shut the kitchen cabinet doors after he's done taking stuff from them. so everytime i see some of those cabinet doors open, i'll shut them back, he'll go to the kitchen again to get some stuff, leave the doors open, and when i get to the kitchen and i'll shut them back again. this is like in the movie sixth sense, remember?, the scene when the mother sees the opened cabinet doors and drawers, shuts them, then goes to the laundry room for a second and comes back to the kitchen to find - shock! - the doors and drawers are open again? yeah, it's like that with my housemate.

actually... it better be my housemate doing all this stuff, or else i see dead people.

interview

went to a job interview today.

the job's in the field of student affairs, something which i am truly familiar and would in fact consider it to be my area of expertise, with all my insider experience as a legislative and executive senator in the university student government and as representative in various committee at the university level, not to mention my years at the student organization level as president and chairman and on and on.

it was a mere clerking job, not much of a glamor there, not much pay either, and not that i didn't have the experience being an assistant administrator anyway, but it was its world of student affairs that i was really after, that i wanted so much to be a contributing participant of, albeit only as a clerk.

during the interview, the word 'overqualified' was thrown around, and my heart jumped. i instinctively knew i already lost any chances.

every single time when i apply for a job i really want and that cursed word overqualified comes out and hangs on the air, it's high probability that i will not get the job. happens every friggin' time.

god damn it!!

the last question thrown at me was: "so why aren't you married..."

i was obviously thrown back by the question. in my swirling mind, i was mighty tempted to blurt out, "yeah, this is why i'm applying for this job - so that i get to meet with bodacious chicks.. what's up with you people?"

but i held my tongue, and said with a quiet smirk, "i don't have anybody."

not a good day today...

prayers

a solemn prayer to those who perished in the tsunami -
an unimaginable horror...

*alfatihah*

the why of it

called malaysia today.

spoke with my mom, finally. i didn't call her during raya, didn't have phone actually, not that i was eager to get one anyway, and calling my family wasn't my favorite thing in the world. so after very very long weeks of phonecall absence, my mother nearly jumped into the phone when she heard my voice.

she was working the computer, doing some school work on excel. wow, i was impressed, considering that when we got a computer only some recent years back (we're THAT much of a backward people) and my mother's fingers were shaking when holding the pointer mouse, everytime when i tried to show her how to operate the computer.

then, the question i dreaded most came out: when am i coming back...

i think i managed to duck and cover. but the rest of the conversation went well, i suppose.

after calling mom, i called azlin.

i haven't heard from her in ages, our email correspondences were sporadic at best. i don't know what got into me to give her a call, i guess i wanted to surprised a fond old friend, see what she's up to these days, catch up on her life, and old news of other acquaintances.

her life's good, i was glad to hear. her daughter's growing up fast and fondly.

azlin asked me the question too, and the why of it, and i answered the most honest answer i ever gave anyone:

i'm not coming home, because tengah merajuk melampau-lampau.

she mused quietly that it's odd, and i concurred.

i don't think anybody knows how scarred my heart is. how, everytime i think of malaysia, i winced of long-remembered pain. how i am always treated like crap. how the girls always breaks my heart, how they always look the other way like i'm a nobody, they're always yelling and demeaning and demanding.

and how i am tired of the family squabbling, the perpetual hating each other, the one reason after another to start the next round of badmouthing and bickering. how i don't want to be in the middle of it all.

i am not happy here. but i'd rather be miserable here than being miserable in malaysia, amongst the people who'd stab my back the easiest, who'd shatter my heart like it's nothing, who'd high-mindedly demand that i'd always be the strong one and the sane one to fix every little problem everybody else have, as if i don't have worries of my own.

i just want, for god's sake, to be left alone. if everybody can't see that syamil needs to be loved to, then just leave him be.

this is my way of begging for mercy.

love, really

i revisited the movie 'love actually' recently. it's an ok movie, i suppose, the sort of movie that gets you grinning the whole two hours of it. a lot of characters, too.

but there's a scene that always catches my heart so fondly, and it reminds of how the guy is just so me: quitely suffering the agony of love...

the background of the scene is a guy who falls truly madly deeply - and secretly - in love with a girl (played by kiera knightley, very very exquisitely pretty in the movie) who is married to the guy's best friend. the guy couldn't tell the girl of his love and so avoided her altogether, and that made her believe that he truly despised her, until one day something happened that spilled the secret of his love and adoration.

much much later in the movie, it was christmas night, her doorbell rang out and she went to get it. there was our guy standing at the door, with big cardboards on his hands. from inside the apartment her husband called out, "who is it?"

our guy put a finger to his lips, and showed on the the cardboards: Say it's carol singers.

so the girl called back and said it's the carol singers.

guy put down a radio, pushed a button, and the melodies of 'silent night' softly filled the air. he stood, and quietly removed the cardboards one by one:

with any luck, by next year...

and the girl read on,

i'll be going out with one of these girls..

(pics of bodaciously sexy models appeared; our girl suppressed a smile and nodded...)

next card: but for now let me say...

without hope or agenda...

just because it's christmas - ...

(and at christmas you tell the truth)...

to me, you are perfect...

(their eyes met, saddened)

next card:
and my wasted heart will love you...

until you look like this...

(pic of wretched wrinkly ghastly old woman; girl laughed a suppressed laughter)

merry christmas..., said the final card.

and her lips pursed sad smile, and said a quiet 'merry christmas...'

with that, he picked up his cards and radio, and left, with agony in his eyes.

soon our girl ran out, kissed him, paused and held his gaze, and then walked back to her husband.

he walked on, and whispered silently to his broken heart, "enough..." he sighed. "enough now..."


hmm...
happy christmas, everbody.

pantun ultraman

Pantun versi Ultraman

Pulau Hokkaido jauh ketengah
Gunung Fuji bercabang tiga
Hancur Raksaser dikandung tanah
Ultraman yg baik dikenang jua.

Dua tiga Raksaser berlari
Maner nak samer Raksaser Kero
Dua tiga Ultraman boleh kucari
Maner nak samer Ultraman Taro.

Kalau roboh Kota Narita
Papan di Tokyo Ultraman dirikan
Kalau sungguh itu keje Raksaser
Badan dan kepaler dier Ultraman 'fire'kan.

Kajang Ultraman kajang berlipat
Kajang Raksaser mengkuang layu
Kalau Ultraman Ace tak cukup kuat
Ultraman Neos datang membantu.

Buai laju-laju
Sampai Pokok Sena
Apa dalam baju?
Lampu Ultraman nyaler.

Mengata dulang paku serpih
Mengata Raksaser Ultraman
Pulak yang lebih-lebih.

Sudah gaharu cendana pula
Sudahlah kalah di'fire' pula.

Orang berbudi kiter berbahaser
'Fire' diberi pada raksaser.



hikhikhik... timakacih pada ms nobie for brightening my day with this... : )

mekanik

i studied engineering in college. mechanical engineering, even. go ahead and ask me about principles of mechanics and dynamics, and i'll show you equations and diagrams and solutions. n-th degree of differentials? i'll explain you my six semesters of calculus. fluid mechanics? thermodynamics? statistical engineering? metallic science, non-metallic science? shears and torques and bends? voila.

yet if you pop open the hood of a car and ask me to show you components of the engine, i'll be stupendously perplexed. all i can do is point at the engine and say, "yup, um, that's the engine..."

i know where the radiator is, and where the engine block is. that much, i know. but don't ask me where the head gasket is. i don't even know what a head gasket is, what it does, and how come it has a head.

my kumari overheated yesterday. i was driving, in the dead of the night, when the truck behind me flashed its headlight repeatedly. i looked back, wondered why, and soon to my horror realized there was smoke spewing out trailing the car. i saw the temperature gauge and it was wayyy above high! i quickly took the exit and shut off the engine. under the hood then came a thick puff of smoke that you could make a smoke signal.

i had to waited a few minutes and then opened the hood with all machoness, coz i see people do that everytime. soon a scratch under the chin here, a rub against the temple there, and i was dumbfounded because i clearly had nooo idea what i was supposed to look at. so i did what every dumb driver would do. close my eyes real hard and pray the car won't explode, and then drove back home, stopping whenever it coughed smoke, then drove again.

i called my friends and every mechanics i could find, and i got different diagnosis. could be the water pump, said one. could be the head gasket, said another. could very well be the engine's already cracked, said my friend, who proceeded to berleter about what sort of an idiot drove a car with an overheated engine.

today, again with a prayer, i drove the car to the nearest bodyshop. the mechanic checked the engine, and proclaimed with amazement about how old and kerepot and berkedut kumari's engine was. and we discovered, i mean he discovered, the overheating principal problem: there was a huge leak, a gash really, on one of the hosey things that's connected to the radiator and it sucked the pressure out of the radiator from what radiators are supposed to do (which i think is to, um, radiate) and resulting in an bone-dry radiator with no coolant thingy and so it overheated and it's gonna cost me 200 bucks.

now that i knew what was wrong, i thot, "whew."

and all i heard when he was explaining to me was: bla.. bla bla bla... bla bla... 200 bucks.

whoa nelly!

but i had to have it repaired and i grudgingly consented. he changed the motor oil (which was never changed), flushed to coolant (which was blackhole empty), changed the transmission fluids (which was already brown instead of pink), repaired the leak and even threw in some bulbs for my burnt stop lights. i didn't even know part of my stop lights were out!, that's how blissfully helpless and ignorant i was.

i didn't have to watch but i stayed with the mechanic and looked with mighty interest everything he did. he propped open something on the engine and said the air filter looked ok. and i the dumb engineer said, oh wow THAT's where the air filter is??

aiyaaaa.

two hundred some'n bucks later, my kumari is pronounced healthy as can be. and i am happy as a bitzy bitzy bee. had to shake my head, though, at my apparent cluelessness when it comes to cars.

hey, not all guys are car guys, ok? puhlease. i am very proud of my masculinity, otherwise. i hop into my car, and as long as the engine starts and it brings me from point A to point B, it's mission accomplished for me. very utilitarian.

why did i study engineering, anyway. it's not my fault during all my semesters in the proud school of engineering that we never actually did pop open a car's hood, much less examine what's under there. it's not in the syllabus, i guess. i did study on how to make the engine more efficient, and examine the variables involved in its workings. but i haven't seen a real piston in my whole life, that's how pathetic i am. i've seen a sparkplug, though, does that count?

so why did i study engineering. hmm. i was good in physics and chemistry and maths. i supposed that path was laid open right there. but when i was a kid there was a movie called 'mekanik', anybody remembers? starring azmil mustapha, susan lancaster, yusof haslam? allahyarham mokhtar dahari was in there too. "cendol ni sedapppp!" was a very funny cendol scene. an insanely hilarous movie.

anyway, anybody remember what azmil's character's name was? anybody?

"syamil"...

: )

shoe story

i have dead man's shoes.

a long time ago when i was at western michigan, a tragedy struck whereupon two of the malaysian students died on a trip back to kalamazoo. i didn't know them both very well, they were my juniors. but i've met one of them when we were playing basketball at the college gym.

after he died, his housemate lived with me. he brought along some of the aruah's personal item and one day showed them to us and asked if we wanted them. one of my other housemate saw the basketball sneakers, which looked very new and very good, and held it with admiration. can i have this?, he asked. my new housemate said, take it. i rummaged thru the other stuff and asked, where did you get all these? my new housemate shrugged and said, semua ni aruah yang punya.

i looked at my other housemate and saw him turned pale as a ghost and the sneakers he was hugging quickly fell from his hand. are you serious??, he said.

my new housemate nodded dismissively. on second thought i don't want it, my other housemate said.

then my new housemate said, syamil do you want them?

hell yeah!, i said.

so i have in my possession, for years now, a pair of dead man's basketball shoes. it's worn out now, old too, but still good. my other pair's making an eeet ooot sound lately, and today i decided to wear the sneakers to work. couldn't help all morning but reminisce about the history behind/under that pair of sneakers.

sometimes for fun, whenever i have them sneakers on, i'd tell the story. i could almost feel people inching away from me. hee!

it makes for a good story, though. : )

i am a singaporean

apparently, my boss seemed to think that i am a singaporean. maybe he remembered my mentioning singapore when he asked me where i'm from. as i recall, i said: malaysia... u know where vietnam is, right? *hand movement* then laos, then thailand, THEN malaysia, and singapore down below.

"oh," he said. i'm surprised he didn't confused me as being a vietnamese.

last night out of the blue he asked me if i'm a christian. i shook my head and said no. then he asked what the major religion is in singapore. "in singapore?" i repeated, scratching my head. "yeah, is it not christianity?" he asked.

i looked at him in bewilderment and said, "um, ...buddhism?"

"oh yeah! buddhism." he nodded vigorously.

then he asked me what sort of weather is it in singapore. at this point i raised my eyebrow and said, "uh... hot?" his eyes widened in amazement. "really??"

there could be winter weather in singapore for all i care. i'm not a singaporean. but i played along. "VERY hot, VERY humid," i said. "you don't wanna go there."

he grinned like an idiot. "seems definitely like a place i'd like to visit one day!"

haa, i laughed nervously. now i'm avoiding him just in case he's gonna asked for my family number in singapore...

melayu

kenapa orang melayu ni mesti suka mengumpat? suka mengata? suka menyindir, mengeji, menghina, melaga-lagakan sesama manusia?

all my life i've known with great depth the nature of all sorts of people, but the malays just take the cake on this. seriously, what kind of a fucked-up genetic disorder in the asswipe evolution of the malays that made them turn into a hobby jeering and gossiping and rumor-mongering other people?? it's beyond embarrassing being a malay, i'll tell you that much.

some months ago a friend of mine was to go to iowa on a business matters. it would be a long drive, then a quick stop there, before coming back to chicago again. he wanted company, so he invited me to tag along, and i happily agreed. i just wanted to get out of the apartment for a change. besides, he refused to accept any gas and toll money from me. the trip was on him, he said. just having a company was enough.

this, remember, was months ago.

last night he found me, and asked if i'm pissed at him. i said, "what?"

he said that there were rumors skirting around that i am upset with him, coz apparently i paid for the iowa trip and i wasn't getting my money back. i said, "what???"

evidently for months now, behind my back, these bastard malays have been talking about what a flippin' cheapskate my friend is, and been rampantly rumoring about it on my dime. motherf-argghhhhhh, goddamned it i am so angry i swear to god i wanted to gouge their eyes out.

this, just like this, has been my life here in chicago. there are cliques of malays who seem to be at perpetual war with one another, and i sit in the middle, refusing to take sides. this is why i don't go out a lot to kenduri-kendara diorang. i hate it when people constantly badmouth each other, seeding gossips, ridiculing the other side with great glee.

i wished that they'd change. but, honestly, melayu being melayu... *sighhh*

damn it!! friggin assholes!

signs

is it december already?? by next year, i'll be pushing seventy... *geewhizz*

high signs i'm wayyyy too old already:

• bone-tired, and i mean really bone-tired, after only nine holes of golf
• breathless after a short jog, becoz i have the lung capacity of a kindergarten girl
• i need a nappie time every few hours, again like a kindergarten girl
• easily sick, like a sickly sickly kitten
• multivitamins and aspirins are my friends
• wrinkles wrinkles wrinkles
• moody and cranky
• i watch news channels now more than mtv and vh1
• can't god-honestly remember a flippin' thing
• can't write a song anymore
• completely given up on flirting, dating, and finding love
• completely given up on having kids

this is bad...

snoozes and smooches

i nearly overslept again today.

yesterday, i missed work coz i overslept. i don't know why, but i felt entirely exhausted the day before. i don't know why i didn't remember to set the alarm clock. and i don't know why, but i woke up at 6am and was fairly certain it was 6pm (what can i say, it looked just as dark and was just as cold this time of the year) until i thought about it summore and then nearly jumped off my bed and exclaimed in utter horror: "oh crap! holy crap! crap crap crap!!" *original words substituted*

and last night, i made sure i didn't oversleep again. i stayed awake till late at night, waiting to report to work at 3am. but then i grew tired of waiting and waiting, and ran put of chores to do. and the bed grew even more inviting, and my pillow was positively seducing. so, against my better judgment, i crawled onto the bed, and bam!, i zonked out. i remembered a half-glance at the clock and it beamed 1:30 am.

thank god i did set the alarm (how i managed to remember to do that, i couldn't recall). when the alarm screamed at 2:30, my hand automatically slammed it to snooze. the alarm clock waited, and then screamed again. slam-bam-bam to snooze. then scream, then snooze. scream, then snooze. and this went on for a while till my mind finally emerged from the clouds of lack of sleep and saw it was 4am. *expletive deleted*

i drove like a pelesit to the warehouse, whereupon i saw my boss already waiting for me with some f-word bombs. i apologized profusedly, embarrassed to no end, and promised it won't happen again. thankfully he let it go, and thankfully i never missed work before.

sheessshhh, this is typical me. i could've gotten fired!

i think i have spent my entire life struggling to straighten out every little wrinkles in my life and just when the stars seem to line up just perfectly and my life seems sufficiently satisfactory, the whole universe will collectively collapse on me and i'll find myself in big BIG trouble. somehow i've always always managed to have the knack to slip and fall into the deepest end of the shitpool, all in a matter of nano-seconds, and my life turns upside-down inside-out.

believe me, it is gonna take a whole lot of ass-smooching to iron-out this particular wrinkle on my boss' butt. kisses away!