Smudges in the sky

The sky was intriguingly smudged a few days ago. It looked like a patchwork-quilt-patterned dome above the city. There were patches of sky that were different shades of blue, grey and white. Over there, a patch of greyish blue sky covered with flimsy, nothing-much clouds; a patch of steely teal in the corner of the horizon with puffy clouds in the foreground; bright aquamarine and the softest pastel-hues of blue; dark cobalt blue streaked with abrupt daubs of white. It was like a baby in heaven got a hold of God's art supplies, then proceeded to decorate the sky with the reckless abandon only children have.


The clouds were intriguingly smudged and haphazard as well. There were white, poofy, crisp clouds; like really pale cotton candy. And then there were really wispy and confused clouds; they looked like the strands you get when you tear a cotton ball apart with your fingers, and they couldn't decide whether to pull themselves together or if it just wasn't worth the trouble. Some grey-becoming-black clouds hung forebodingly in the air, heavy with the threat of rain; terrific thunder clouds. I could hear my imagination rumbling just looking at them.


I wish I had a camera in my head. I want to learn to bottle whimsy. That way, I could preserve it and have it for breakfast, with toast and coffee. I imagine pickled whimsy would taste sweet and tangy like jam, don't you?


This is Figgy, abruptly leaving.

YES.I.SEE

Dear reader,



Just a quick post to say I'll be really, really busy for the next two months doing something really, really important. So don't be surprised if my next post is in March or something. I'm involved in a youth project called the YES.I.SEE program, run by several parties: AZAM, Faradale Media and People Consultancy Systems. So anyway, the YES program is very different from other youth-oriented government-run programs. You know all of those endless workshops or seminars hosted by the government: go somewhere for a few days, have fun, learn a few things, then go home and continue to live your life the way you've always lived it. No change, no impact. In the YES program, there are about 5 or 6 groups of teens and young adults working together to develop their projects; real businesses, products or services whose main aim is to impact the society and state of Sarawak in a positive way. Yes, you heard me right. Imagine, an innovative and socially-beneficial business run by, developed by and launched by a group of Sarawakian teenagers. Thinks of the impact we'll make in Sarawak...we're change agents.

All our launch dates are set for early March, so...it's crunch time. Non-stop working til the end of February. I don't have the time to tell you about the other teams' ideas, so I'll just tell you a little about mine. We have decided on publishing a book on Sarawak. It's going to be called 'Past and Present Unite: Preserving Sarawak'. And our team...organisation...task force...group is called 'Borneo Birthright'. Got a nice ring to it, don't it? Watch out for the website, which will be coming out...soon. As soon as I'm done with the logo design and what-not. For now, you'll have to be satisfied with our Facebook profile (add us!) and Fb group (join us!).


So, this book is going to be about the cultures in Sarawak, all of them in one book. A compilation of stories and legends, biographies and photographs: a coffee table book, I guess. Oh, speaking of photographs, Borneo Birthright is hosting a photography competition. No huge monetary prizes or anything, but the winning photos will be featured in our upcoming book. Which will, hopefully, be sold to tourists, locals, whatever, online, all over the world. If you want to enter the competition, my photography-inclined reader, please email us at borneobirthright@yahoo.com for details. We'll release a prototype of the book on March 1st with all the final photos and stories, and hopefully get the Sarawak Tourism Board or whatever to sponsor us and get us published.


Are you excited?! Cause I am! I'm going to meet with one of my team members today to decide on the logo design...which I have to get working on right now. So, wish me luck! See you 'round the bend. Til then, I remain...




Yours,


Figgy the Change Agent

I'm a troll...an MPH and DA troll

Dear reader,






During one of my way-too-numerous-to-be-healthy MPH trolling sessions, I came across this little book, 'Written on the Sky: Poems by the Japanese translated by Kenneth Rexroth' It's simply beautiful; a pocket-sized affair, with a single poem on each page. Even though it was so small, the contents didn't look crowded or cramped or anything; in fact, there was this elegant, minimalistic feel to it...lots of white space on each page. Of course, such a nice-looking book will inevitably come with an equally nice-looking price tag. I don't really remember the exact amount--I unconsciously block out things that are too traumatic for me--but it was something between RM 80 and RM 100. Yup. And as I was leafing through the pages, I couldn't help wondering who this Kenneth Rexroth was. On the flipside of the cover page was the small notation: other books by Kenneth Rexroth: 'Songs of Love, Moon & Wind: Poems from the Chinese'. I googled him, and it turns out he translated a French book or something into English as well. How many languages does this guy know anyway?

Anyway, there was this one haiku that I really liked...so I wrote it down. No, it's not cheating. It's not like I wrote down all the poems or anything. It's not copyright infringement either, smarty-pants reader. Not if you credit the author and stuff...I think. So here it is, I don't know what it's called...or if it even had a name to begin with

How long will it last?

I do not know

his heart.

This morning my thoughts are as tangled

    with anxiety

as my black hair.

- Lady Horikawa

             堀 

             川

             女

             后

Ahh~ So beautiful, don't you agree, dear reader? I just love those lines: This morning my thoughts are as tangled with anxiety as my black hair. Anyway. I got the kanji from--where else?--the almighty Google. And if you want to see an actual preview of the book, go here. 

Wow, I just realized...I've been so active lately. Blog-wise anyway. On the other hand, my DA account is suffering from gross negligence. The last time I submitted anything was in September. I'm planning on doing a Christmas piece, though. I've been searching through the archives of previous DA entries, you know, scrounging for inspiration. But all the Christmas pieces I could find were so...chaotic and crowded. A little bit too festive, if you get my drift. Either that, or they were fan art. The bad thing about making fan art is it's only appealing to the fans, not to the general public. There was one that I really liked, though. Really simple, without the usual Christmas gimmicks. It's called 'Christmas', drawn by pu. [love her name, haha] To go to her DA page, just click on the picture.

Maybe I'll do something like that. Simple, not too detailed or intricate, yet unmistakably Christmas-ey. I'll make it a challenge: draw something Christmas-ey without using too many elements commonly associated with Christmas. I won't draw a Christmas tree...I won't draw Santa...I won't use too much red or green...and absolutely no candy canes! We'll see how it turns out, dear reader.




So, this is it for now, dear reader. I'll see ya when I see ya. Til then, I remain...









Yours,





Figgy the Troll

Morality, ethics and...stuff like that

Dear reader,








My new Moral Studies lecturer thinks he's a philosopher. But that's okay, since I think I'm a philosopher, too. What's not okay is he thinks he's smart. I think I'm smart, but at least I'm aware that I think I'm smart. He, on the other hand, is so unaware. Ignorance isn't always bliss, at least for the people forced to put up with the ignorant one's ignorant, blissful shenanigans. When he enunciates his points--which he does very often...at least once every 30 seconds--he will squint his eyes and cock his head upwards a little. As if he's enjoying the sound of his own voice so much he has to take a moment to savour it. Like you do with really good wine. He speaks with a slight but noticeable accent and sometimes, with mistaken pronunciation, but overall very good English. He just uses too many big words in one sentence; it makes him sound preachy and condescending. 




I don't really like him. He reminds me of this guy who was in the same orientation group as me. Man, was he a piece of work! A over-competitive show off, to put it simply. And he showed off about the stupidest things. For example: during one of the many 'welcome to Swinburne' speeches we had to endure in order to be 'oriented', I was doodling on a scrap piece of paper. As per usual. He spotted me scribbling away and proceeded to whip out his own piece of paper to follow me and doodle. Ah, but that's not all. Another orientation buddy looks at my doodles and says something to the effect of 'nice drawings'. He peers over and says, and I quote, "Oh, she beat me. She drew six and I only drew five." Right. I didn't even know we were in a contest. And the list goes on. He just loves to draw attention to himself. And when he tries to tell a joke or something, it's like watching one of those furry little animals being mangled and devoured by a pride of hungry lions on the Discovery channel. So embarrassing, it's almost physically painful. He was, of course, oblivious to his obviously lame sense of humour. And he had this smug look on his face, like he expected everyone to just burst out in paroxysms of uncontrollable laughter at his comedic genius. And guess what. This undesirable individual happens to be in my group for Moral Studies. Happy, happy...joy, joy.




Right, back to the subject at hand. Moral Studies is one of two compulsory subjects I have to take in order to be eligible for a degree, in Malaysia anyway. The other is Malaysian Studies, pretty much the history and politics of Malaysia. So anyway, I expected this Moral to be like the Moral we learnt in secondary school; memorizing wordy definitions and convoluted answering formulas, pure head-knowledge with no heart-wisdom. And when I say memorizing, I mean word-for-word. One word missing, or even replaced with its exact synonym, and you're outta there! No marks, no cigar. But, to my moderate delight, I was wrong. It's more like a philosophy class than an all-you-can-memorize fest.One downside, though...come exam time, I'll probably be sporting a caffeine-induced migraine, a pimple the size of a golf ball, and a severe case of writer's cramp. There's a lot of heavy stuff to wrap your head around in this subject, no getting away with last-minute cramming. Dang. And the upside? I'll...get to learn something new. And I'll be challenged. Yup. Great.




We'll be covering four topics during our seven whole weeks of intensive morality: Suicide, Abortion, the Death Penalty, and Euthanasia. Wonderful conversation starters, don't you think? I'm just glad a certain debate-crazy, argumentative guy isn't in my group this time. I swear, that boy argues for the sake of arguing. I hope some sort of Argumentative Boy Mach 2 doesn't make an appearance. I don't know most of the people in my class, it's a mixture of different foundation courses. Which should make discussions and such very interesting...or very hazardous. We'll just have to see.




Anyway. The lecturer and the show-offish-orientation-nerd-boy: they share a few common characteristics, disturbingly. They both love the sound of their own voice. They both have a faintly effeminate way of speaking, you know, with that almost-a-lisp thing going on--although the lecturer's effeminate streak is considerably more apparent than nerd-boy's...which is probably a bad sign. They both think they're funny; in fact, they share very similar senses of humour. Brusque, harsh, choppy. Like. This. And they're both Chinese. That's not really relevant, but I'm just listing down all their similarities. Covering all my bases or whatever. So I'm just waiting to see if he's anything like nerd-boy in real life, or if he just comes across that way when he has his lecturer 'hat' on. I have an inkling that it's the former. He claims to be a 'religious man'. No arguments there; Catholic and narrow-minded. Contrary to popular opinion, the words 'religious' and 'Christian' are not synonyms. And you know what the worst part is? He thinks he's open-minded. Of course, I disagree with almost everything he says. Almost.




He gave us examples, you know, to try and explain ethics and morality. One example was, if he left our midterm papers in the classroom accidentally, would we look at them? "Don't tell me you'd be so moralistic and honest to not look" he says, articulating the words as if they were insults. "Because if you don't look at them..." pause for effect "...then you're a fool." Well, it's not a direct quote. I don't recall if he said 'fool' or just 'stupid'. So in conclusion, being righteous is being stupid, is that it? He also said that there is a time to be morally upright and a time to be smart. Sorry, but I disagree. Oh, by the way, do you think it's funny that he said that, dear reader? The whole "if you don't, you're a fool" thing? Because when he did, the class burst out laughing. I didn't get what was so funny about it...I still don't get what was so funny about it.




Ah, another example: a friend dies. Before his demise, he bequeaths a certain amount of money (RM 100,000 or something) to a friend of his, entrusting you to deliver said money to said friend. On your way to deliver said money, you walk by a building. On this building is a poster that says: 'Money urgently needed for tsunami victims. Any cash donations would be much appreciated for us to reach our goal of RM 100,000'. What do you do? Do you ignore the sign and deliver the money like you promised, or do you donate the money to help the hordes of tsunami victims just waiting for a knight in shining armour to deliver them? His answer: both decisions, when you consider all the factors, aren't wrong. Maybe the friend who's going to receive the money is already rich, maybe he doesn't need the money. And by giving it away, you'll benefit hundreds or even thousands of people, not just one. My answer: it doesn't matter. The money doesn't belong to you. It doesn't even belong to the dead friend; it belongs to Mr Lucky, the guy you're on your way to meet. You are a steward, not an owner. You have no say in how the money is used, that's up to the fortunate friend who gets it. Giving it away--even if it's for a good cause--is wrong. If you want to be charitable, do it with your own money.




And so on and so forth. I don't like confrontation, so I just kept quiet during the lecture. But on the inside I was seething. How dare he try to twist and complicate moral principles willy-nilly! Is he serious? Does he even know what he's saying? But then, in the midst of my mental writhing--actually physical writhing, too...the classroom was too cold--the thought struck me: what do I care? So what if he thinks and speaks nonsense? It doesn't affect what I think, what I say. It won't influence me if I won't let it.




So, to conclude: I can't stand him, but I have no choice. I'll just have to deal with it. And get a warmer jacket.


I guess that's it from me, dear reader. I've officially run out of things to say. I'll see you on the other side. Byeeee~












Yours,






Figgy the [Half Baked, Self Proclaimed] Philosopher

Memory Lane? I live there

Dear reader,








I've noticed that I dwell a lot. As in, on the past. On things that have already happened and should be put to rest, not replayed over and over again. Sometimes I catch myself reliving the most embarrassing moments from the past week, in glorious technicolour...or from the past month...or even as far back as a few years ago. I mean, I can remember this time when I was in Form 1, when I was 13 years old. I was goofing off in front of the school gate, doing some sort of impromptu balancing act on one of those cement-divider-thingies. Unfortunately, I was wearing this huge backpack at the time--and when I say huge, I mean the thing was half my body size and weighed approximately a tonne. Every time I put it on I looked like the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle's long lost baby sister or something. No joke.

So anyway, I fell over. It was inevitable, really. After all, that ridiculously heavy backpack was weighing me down like an anchor--not forgetting, of course, my remarkable lack of motor skills and hand-eye coordination...what else did I think was going to happen? As far as I know, there was only one witness to my 'oops' moment: it was a girl I'd never met before, who very graciously turned her head when she saw that I had collapsed on the pavement, a tangle of limbs, shoelaces and oversized backpack straps. But still. This happened five years ago, for Pete's sake! Why can't I just get over it? Is this constant rehashing of the most humiliating events in my life normal? Does everybody do this, or am I just a freak?




I do this dwelling-on-something-for-too-long thing with my previous blog posts, as well. I like to rifle through old posts, reading and rereading what I wrote. It's not narcissistic...at least I don't think it is. Maybe it's to make up for nobody reading my blog, so I just read it myself. Compensation or something. Or maybe to pass the time. Or perhaps it's self-analytical, self-critical. I do that, too, you know. Criticize myself and my work...stuff...whatever. Constantly. And if I see something wrong--any grammatical or *gasp* spelling errors--I fix it, pronto! I hate being wrong or looking stupid. Hmm, maybe that's why debating was such a bust for me. I hated debating. It was just a couple of kids yelling at each other, blurting out a stream of rebuttals as fast as they were physically capable of. I'm serious. You don't even need to come up with your own points, just slam the other side's arguments in the dirt. While imitating an auctioneer, of course. It wouldn't be a debate if the debaters actually presented their points in a coherent manner. I'm sorry, do I sound bitter? That's because I have--yet another--embarrassing moment connected with debate that I refuse to lay to rest. I also refuse to divulge said embarrassing debate moment to you, dear reader. I shall bring it to my grave.




Anyway. I was just looking at one of my old posts, the one about Kuching and patriotism. Among other things. I wrote, and I quote (good God, I'm quoting myself!):

"And you can breathe, even in the centre of downtown. Actually breathe--like, gulp down huge lungfuls of air--without choking to death or running the risk of developing severe bronchitis." 

Not long after the composition of this post, Kuching, of course, underwent a period of terrible haze. Really terrible haze. Figures.




But I remember good things, too. Off-hand comments a random friend made about my outfit or my make-up, for example. Like, "I like the way you did your eye make-up today" or "Wow, nice dress" or whatever. Pitiful as it may sound, these little affirmations and compliments are encouraging to me. I like them. I suppose this means that I crave acknowledgement and attention, but then who doesn't, really? Deep down, we all want the same things: to be noticed, to be unique, to be loved. *pauses to overcome sudden urge to gag* Mushy sentiments aside, it is, in fact, true. In the immortal words of Taylor Swift's songwriter--whoever that revered personage happens to be--in her song 'Fifteen': "When all you wanted was to be wanted". Yup, that pretty much sums it up. And in such a witty, lyrical way, too. Incidentally, I like Taylor Swift's songs. Very well put together. And meaningful. I swear, I almost cried when I heard 'Fifteen' for the first time. What can I say, I empathize easily.




Wait, where were we? I do believe my train of thought has been derailed. Oh, right. I remember good things, too. In fact, at any given time of the day--usually when I'm doing the most mundane and menial tasks--I will burst out laughing. Or at least start grinning for no reason like an idiot. All because of some happy or funny memory I just thought of. I'm a very inward-looking person, I guess. And this is a very long post. Awww, poor reader. Did I bore you with my long-winded rant on nothing in particular? Well, you can stop groaning in pain now, I'm done. Officially done. You have my permission to continue living your life. Thanks for droppin' by, y'hear? Til my next post, I remain...









Yours,





Figgy the Introspective

Musical Monday makes its comeback...

Dear reader,








It's been a while since my last Musical Monday, hasn't it? Alright, so it's been a while since my last anything. It turns out that college life gets pretty busy at times. Who knew. Before I get down to song-sharing business, I have one piece of information I would like to divulge. My father went to Singapore recently. He goes to a lot of places, for his job, you know. Anyway, this otherwise mundane and ritual business trip was heralded by an extraordinary souvenir. He came back bearing gifts. Or, rather, gift. An awesome, awesome gift. The gift in question was a...wait, are you sitting down? I think you'd better sit down. Prepare your mental faculties for the shock of your life. Brace yourself. I'm serious. This is going to blow your mind. Okay, enough stalling. He brought back a--pause for dramatic effect--tablet PC! An effing tablet PC! Can you believe it? Because I can't believe it. I'm still trying to recover from the shock. I'm typing this right now on my brand new, still-has-that-new-electronic-product-smell tablet PC, the one I'm having trouble believing is real. And to answer your unspoken question, my nosy reader, yes...it was extremely expensive. It cost a substantial amount of money, and--from the way my dad tells it--at least one limb. Ah, but it was worth it. So worth it. It has this screen, right, that can swivel all the way backwards and then down, so you can draw on a completely flat surface. And it has a little latch-thingy that makes a 'tch!' noise when you lock it in place, so your completely flat surface doesn't move around or flip open suddenly and hurt someone when you're drawing on it...or whatever. And the keypad is a joy to type on. So big and bouncy and white. It's just so effingly awesome and cool. There are no words to describe just how effingly awesome and cool it is. So I'll just post a picture of it instead.

My life is complete. Yes. If I died tonight, I'd die happy. Okay, so that's a minor exaggeration. But just a minor one. Anyway, since I can already feel scorching waves jealousy radiating off of you, I'd better switch the topic. Don't want to dwell on one subject for too long, it gets boring. Ah, my new tablet PC. Just look at it. Ahhh~




Okay, okay, switching topic. The song! Yes, the song! The song? Oh, yeah. Right, so the song I'm sharing with you today is--yet another--Malay song. This song is actually a great favourite of mine, don't know why I didn't share it sooner. It's called 'Akustatik' by OAG, also known as O@G. It's an indie Malaysian band--you know, muy mucho respect for being independent and all that--and the lead singer is Sarawakian, I believe [woot!] A word about this band: they're really into the whole wordplay thing. Which is one of the reasons I love them so much. Almost all their songs have a punny element to them, either in the title or in the lyrics. This makes them great fun to listen to, but only if you understand both Malay and English. Yup. And it also makes it hard to translate. So I settled for the song that, for me, is the easiest to translate and, as luck would have it, is also one of my all-time favourite songs...of all time. 'Akustatik' is sort of a combination of two things: 'akustik' and 'aku statik'. 'Akustik' meaning 'acoustic', and 'aku statik' meaning 'I am static'. Static, as in, not moving. Stationary. It'll make sense once you listen to the song and watch the video. *gestures flamboyantly in the air* After you, dear reader.










Akustatik
OAG
Seusia malam ku menantimu
Dihembus embun, aku tersipu
Mungkinkah kau lupa temujanji kita
Kau gembira bersama teman-temanmu


Berlari-lari ku mencarimu
Selembut salju musim berlalu
Menapa berubah sekelip mata
Hatiku gundah tiada terhingga


[Chorus]
Kau umpama merpati putih
Patah sayapnya di udara
Kau umpama merpati putih
Patah sayapnya di udara


Merbahaya

Seusia malam ku menantimu

Dihembus embun, aku tersipu

Mungkinkah kau lupa temujanji kita

Kau gembira bersama teman-temanmu

Berlari-lari ku mencarimu

Selembut salju musim berlalu

Menapa berubah sekelip mata

Hatiku gundah tiada terhingga

[Chorus] x a lot of times

Pa, pa, pa, pa...

Seusia malam ku menantimu

English translation:

Akustatik

OAG

I waited for you all night long

Breathed upon by the dew, I blushed

Maybe you forgot about our date

You're happy together with your friends

I run, looking for you

The season passes as soft as snow

Why change in the blink of an eye?

My heart is saddened beyond expression

[Chorus]

You are like a dove

That broke its wing in the air

You are like a dove

That broke its wing in the air

Dangerous

I waited for you all night long

Breathed upon by the dew, I blushed

Maybe you forgot about our date

You're happy together with your friends

I run, looking for you

The season passes as soft as snow

Why change in the blink of an eye?

My heart is saddened beyond expression

[Chorus] x many, many times

Pa, pa, pa, pa...

I waited for you all night long

There you have it. Like I said, fairly simple, translation-wise. Okay, so I tried to get the words in the video to translate them, but the stupid subtitles kept getting in the way. And I couldn't find any other video that didn't have subtitles. I know what he's saying, I have ears. I don't need the stupid subtitles. Anyway, here's what I managed to get. Some of the spelling is old-fashioned, the type used during Malaya's colonial days. I think they did that to make it look quaint and fairy-tale-ish. Nice touch, if you ask me. Here you go.

Pada suatu hari, seekor burung t'lah ditetas ke duniya.
Burung itu menjadi seekor burung yang [...] dan [...]
Dia cuba untuk menjadi burung yang paling hebat.
Puteh, namanya...
Hobinya suka berterbangan di awan biru bersama teman-temannya.
Tiba-tiba Puteh menjadi seekor burung yang ego.
Ibunya selalu berpesan supaya jangan terbang bersendirian.
Puteh tidak pernah mempedulikan nasihat orang tuanya.
Pada suatu pagi, ketika Puteh khayal berterbangan...
Malang tidak berbau...
Puteh telah dilanggar oleh burung besi yang amat besar.

cerita pendek oleh: Radhionazalim

In English: Once upon a time, a bird was hatched into the world.
This bird tried to be a [...] and a [...] bird.
She tried to become the greatest bird.
White, was her name...
Her hobby was to fly in the blue clouds with her friends.
White suddenly became an egotistical bird.
Her mother always told her, don't fly alone.
White never listened to her parent's advice.
One morning, while White was intoxicated with flying...
Disaster struck...
White was hit by a very big steel bird.

a short story by: Radhionazalim

Yay! Footnote time! I realize this is a really long post, so I'll make it short. Just for you, dear reader. I translated Dia to She because, although all the pronouns in Malay are not gender-specific, the song is probably about a girl, so...I decided the story was about a girl dove, too. I don't know if that's what they (the storywriters) intended, but I don't really care. She's a girl. Deal with it. So, the second one: Puteh and duniya. The original spelling for the words 'white' and 'world', back when writing in the Latin alphabet made its big début, along with colonization. It's pronounced that way, so. Poo-teh. Nowadays it's spelt as 'putih' and 'dunia'. And the next one: Malang tidak berbau. This is actually a Malay proverb that means, literally, bad luck has no smell, or is odourless. And it means, figuratively, that you can never tell when disaster may strike. Out of the blue. The last one: Radhionazalim. I think, but I'm not sure, that these are all the names of the band members combined into one word. I know, for sure, that Radhi is the lead singer. So the other two must be Ona and Zalim. And since I'm too lazy to google them, I'll just keep assuming that that's what it is.




And I'm done. Wasn't that exceptionally short and exceptionally sweet, dear reader? Well, I've said all that I wanted to say, so I'll be going now. See you 'round, ta-ta for now, adieu, and all that.



















Yours,






Figgy, the Proud Owner of a Brand New Tablet PC