a Voice to Calm a Storm, a Voice of Reminiscience

It's Monday morning... but with 6 minutes till noon, the term 'morning' is just semantics.

Such indifference... the 6 minutes between morning and noon isn't world apart, there's no twilight like dawn and dusk, and especially under such gloomy sky, the indifference is even more apparent and at the same time more subtle.

I woke up earlier than usual, maybe it's because I was informed the night earlier that I won't have my own car to use for the day, and the laziness trait that runs inherently within my family is too big a concern for me to actually not to ignore.

Still, the term 'earlier' translates to clocking in at work with 1 minute left to spare before I have to start preparing some troublesome formal explanation for being late.

Sitting under the artificial, neon lights during day time like how it was for me for the past 1 year, every trip to the restroom or the pantry, passing through the only access to sunlight is worth treasuring. Normally, when the sun is strong in the middle of the day, the light seeping through the curtains is good enough a relief for me.

... yet today I am met with indifference, but I would rather be outside than in here. It almost seemed like there's a storm brewing behind the gloomy sky outside, but at the same time it's just drizzling, if not, very light rain at best.

... but when you're standing from 30-40 paces from the glass panel, when you can't see the rooftops of the surrounding terrace house, it almost seems like there's an ocean outside, and you're in a giant ship.

... and my mood today has been abnormally foul. Maybe it was because I had to run up the stairs with to clock in on time, maybe it was because of the weather or even maybe it's because of the kind of work I had to submit to the other departments that has nothing to do with my actual work other than telling them what is it that I have done, or that I will do. Maybe it's all of them put together, or maybe it's all a bit of each and every one of them.

I had to find some means of escape from this form of slow and melancholic destruction of my mind. I've just sync 2 songs into my iPhone yesterday night, thinking that I might need them for today. What I have prophecised came true, I needed those 2 just to feel that the world is a sorry place to live in, but it's alright.

I've been looping my favourite song of the 2 for the past 2 and 1/2 hours, Ikue Asazaki's Toku no Shima Setsu. Don't ask me what is it about, because I have no idea. It's just the perfect song for me right now.

Her voice is raspy, precisely how the other reviewer has pointed it out, but at the same time it's unnaturally haunting. I don't know how it is soothing the rage in me, but it's doing a damn fine job. Why am I raging? I don't know. At least, I know it's being contained.

The song brings a hint of sorrow behind its tunes; singing of hardship of the early days... like days without your 2000 bucks portable computer or wireless internet, or public phone booth for that matter, though the lyrics may be singing otherwise. The accompanying piano and the voice of the other singer; that other mysterious woman, make this piece complete.

I looked at my colleagues with contempt, and it's not their fault but mine. I looked at them today, and I felt that I needed to stay away from them, for my sake and for theirs'. I was in a selfish emotion, that I was right, that everything else that offended me needed to disappear. And this voice of her's advises me of humility and selflessness, but I'm sure as hell she's not singing about nobility, or being noble, or being chivalrous... or other saint like ideals.

She's just singing about stuffs I don't understand, but I could relate... and the resilience she showed in the face of such repeated hardships.

Her voice reminded me of someone who was close, but never lived long enough. Her voice taught wisdom; empathy.

From rage I'm slowly sinking away to something else. Pity, alot of pity for this sorry world, and from there I had a world of respect for the woman who owns this voice I'm listening to... to the perseverance she's singing of, not of triumph, not of glory, but the adaptation of a difficult life.

Ramble Ramble Ramb Ramble...

I had nothing much to do at work now... not that there's literally nothing, but those things can wait. I need to utilise my leisure browsing time slot now.

Listening to my iPhone (God bless Apple now that it's working fine again) and playing pool on it isn't gonna kill time fast enough than I'd like it.

So, while I was doing my leisure browsing, I stumbled upon this random blog entry about a girl waking up to a cockroach crawling over her... and as expectedly and rightfully so...

(woohoo just won another pool on my iPhone, okay back to writing.)

she freaked out (what's new? Girl + Cockroach = Panic+Hysteria).

Which led me to reminisce those days when my room... and my house aren't as clean as it is now (it's still dirty but not dirty enough to hold cockroach infestation it seems), there were organised hunts. Yep, you've guessed it right, hunts for them disgusting roaches.

I'm pretty sure I've written something similar to what I'm bout to write somewhere, sometime before this. No matter, nothing's gonna stop me from reproducing the wonderful experience all those times back then.

You see, back then when my two younger brothers were still young, they're easily disturbed by the mere sight of a cockroach. They look at it and responded to it as though the cockroaches are aliens from space, possessing with them awesome technology from other civilisation that gives them the ability to shoot rays and lasers from their antennae that melts your brain.

I took it upon myself to train those little disgrace into proper 'boys' (they're still kids back then, and no guys should freak out like a little girl in front of a cockroach!). I started organising hunts, yep, hunts... like people used to do with bows and arrows few centuries back, and still doing it with rifles and bullets. The only difference is we're hunting a very agile little shitling that can crawl, hide and sometimes fly into your face... armed with only rolled newspapers.

A hunt begins when a cockroach is sighted, usually in our room or in the kitchen. Once sighted, the signal will be given and all officers on duty will scramble to equip themselves with the necessary gears (read: old newspapers.). Naturally, when it all began, it was my younger brother and I doing the hunt while my youngest brother stand guard at the door, being the only exit the little creature has in order to successfully evade execution.

We would form a perimeter where the cockroach was sighted, like a triangle of some sort and would try to disturb the surroundings so we can force it out from places like under the bed (they can hide for a long, long time). Hunts have a 95% success rate, meaning that only in very rare occasion that a cockroach has successfully evaded execution (we didn't have the patience waiting for it to come out, for instance). After my younger brother finally got the hang of things, my youngest brother start going in, replacing me as field agent while I'm on door duty, holding the exit in case they failed.

I must say, once my brothers got used to it all, and with their improved reflexes through active participations in all the hunts, the hunts improved to a 100% success kill rate.

I remember there's this one time, when my dad wasn't around and my mom's the only adult in the house, she'd deal with cockroaches with aerosol spray. That took forever, from chasing it and spraying all the way, until it finally gives up, rolls over and dies. I've learnt from the mistake, that using household pesticides against cockroaches are extremely time consuming and cost ineffective. It was rarely used although they are officially in our arsenal. The only time we'd consider using it would be to smoke the roaches out from where they're hiding.

... but that's just about us growing up in a modern world trying to get rid of ours fears of roaches. The hunts are fun, and my younger brother are still making remarks like "damn... it's been a while since our last roach kill." from time to time.

Have you ever seen a true roach killer in action?

Let me explain then. Cockroaches are extremely agile creatures, and they are fast for their size. For beginners, it's not easy trying to hit them with your rolled up newspapers. You've gotta be fast and precise or you'll find yourself hitting air all the time.

All three of us still couldn't score on first shot. On average we need to try hitting that thing for about three times.

... but a master doesn't. A master doesn't even have the need to use a weapon apart from his hands. My dad is one of them. He can catch a roach with one swift swipe. The method of execution is very simple yet extremely effective and clean. Once caught, he would throw the cockroach to the wall or the floor with force. The cockroach would die from the impact, while retaining all those disgusting fluid within his body as the impact from the throw wouldn't have caused a structural breach on the roach.

With all that said, I kinda secretly wish that sometimes I get to kill roaches like I use to, but I appreciate the fact that my house is still relatively clean in general.

I still wouldn't touch a cockroach with my hand, but I'm damn good at aiming the roaches with my foot. 90% accuracy.

15 Minutes!

Let me see what the hell can I come up with in a mere 15 minutes.

First and foremost, to those who cares, I've passed the possibly biggest exam in my entire life. With that said, I'll just stop here because I don't want to be seen as cashing in on other people's misery.

In other news, there're probably someone out there who's celebrating their first month 'anniversary' (is that even an anniversary? I thought it's supposed to be an annual thing...) with their girlfriends. If anything, I think it's just a show of how happy the guy is finally to have found a girlfriend and to desperately show his appreciation for the girl who has just relieved him of his life long draught. "Hurray mom, I got a girlfriend, and I love her."

Then, we'll have people who goes around saying things like "do you remember that we got together an hour/a day/a week ago?"... or those who keeps track of time so meticulously it's as though he's counting sands "We have been together for 1 year 3 months 4 days 15hours 34 minutes and 2seconds as of now."

They're giving the rest of the guys a really bad name and a crazy standard bar to live up to. Girls who's never fell in love before, and subsequently fell out of love with a man like that would probably expect the same from her next other-half.

Who gives a crap? I know I don't. My lack of keeping track of time doesn't make me less committed or less romantic...

well, to be continued later...

The Creator

The Creator is a mysterious figure. Nobody knows who he is, where he comes from, where he is, or what he is. Why is he called the Creator? The answer is simple, because as obscure as he is, his task is known to all; to create... and his creations will fill in the gaps in the limitless void.

What does it take to create, and how? To us mortals, creation is a widely misconceived truth, even the idea of procreation itself is not genuine creation. We mortals 'create' by molding some materials into something else with different 'uses' or 'functions'. That is not creation, that is to modify an item's properties to another that corresponds to the purpose of that modification. We mortals 'create' at the expense of something else, and with limited resources, our numbers of 'creations' are finite.

As for the Creator, creation is his nature. He can create a thing out of nothing... for there is nothing out there in the void. He can create anything at his whim; with a thought of his will his creation will take shape and form. It is his sole purpose to create, his sole authority.

The Creator does not create without purpose, as it would be meaningless if he does so. He creates so that there will be order in nothingness. The 'life' that he creates is a byproduct of of the result of his actions. Well, it probably is not his plan to give his creation a sentient mind.

The Creator creates with one rule to observe; that his creations must return to the void whence they came from... that nothing lasts forever. To us mortals, that is how 'time' begins, a byproduct of his creations. Life coincides with time because time dictates when life should end. Time is the ultimate rule that all life must obey, and time is different to each different life i.e. our lifetime is but a fleeting moment compared to that of a burning star.

The Creator however, is neither bound be the rules of time nor will he suffer from the ravages of time. The Creator's existence is tied with the void; he will continue to create as the void continues to expand, an expansion that knows no end. Even if the void stops expanding, the Creator will still remain.

The Creator and the Void regards each other as equals, as partners. Of course, the Creator often wonders who came first, or who is superior? That question was soon set aside as they know they would not exist without one and the other, that the Void would not have a cause or meaning in absolute nothingness, and it was the Creator's creation in the Void gave the Void a meaning.

The Creator observes a self imposed rule after realising that lesser sentient beings are brought into existence as a result of his creations, that he will never interfere with their affairs unless it is necessary; and that necessity is an option he hope that he will never have to use. Several times he was forced to interfere, and his interferences are absolute; the destruction and reconstruction of that particular creation. Several times that life has ventured too far beyond their permitted boundaries, by acting in defiance against the weave of time, prolonging, stalling, manipulating or even traversing in the fabric of time.

Such knowledge are deemed to be too powerful to be wielded by mortals as it allows life to circumvent itself from reaching the their intended destination, the Void, the aversion of the rule that all creation should observe. Yet, the Creator knows that with the existence of life and time, the discovery of such knowldege is an eventuallity that can only be avoided by his interference. It pains the Creator to destory something that he has created, and that their demise are determined prematurely by their own progress.

The Creator appeals to the Void, hoping that the Void might provide a viable solution to this meaningless cycles that are seeming to loop in perpetuity. He knows the irony runs deep, but despite his own personal agendas, to save his other creations from his own quick and definite interferences, he realises that the Void is also aware that order and balance must be maintained... that the rule of time is definite, and certain boundaries are not meant to be crossed.

"Boys... we're fucked."

It's Saturday, again. Damn... I wonder how many Saturdays I've lived through all these years, but I'm convinced that it's gonna be a hell of a calculation so we'll just leave it at that.

So yea, It's Saturday... what's the big deal about Saturdays? Apart from the fact that I've got a semi important dinner to attend later, my Saturday (this Saturday, and like all other working Saturday) is insignificant, if not worthless.

I'm in a state of irony that I could comprehend but couldn't express them. I suppose, that the fact that I am here in the office working full day from Nine to fucking Six on a Saturday (the theme of the entry, c'mon people pay attention) when I could be doing something else such as getting a good night sleep without having the alarm telling me when to wake up over and over again, is making my Saturdays worthless but at the same time the value (my personal evaluation) for my free Saturdays is off the charts.

I guess this is what people would call the agony of corporate hell. Woohoo, and I am smacked right in the middle of it.

Speaking of agony, although I do not know if there is anything else that could be more agonising than working on a Saturday where you simply don't have much to do (or you could be at home trying to fix your cabinet and have a nail pop your eye via nailgun freak accident), ... I really don't have much to say.

To sum it up, this fucking sucks. This is suckage majeur, hands down... God damn it if feet down makes any sense (referring to the earlier expression 'hands down') I'd gladly use it over and over just to prove a point, even though I've already done so quite successfully.

... Not to mention I was just reminded by myself (thank you very much, brain) that I am getting shit pay. Shit is shit, there is simply no other way about it, nor around it. I am a confirmed staff (confirmed after I am here working for a full 3 months with, as my boss would say, satisfactory performance) and my salary was not reviewed at all in these 11 months of working.

"... but you get to receive the bonus for October!" ... *middle finger majeur maximus*. 100 bucks for 11 months is not enough to steer me away from whining, or griping, or hate this shit of a crap they call 'system', as well as this job with an extremely fiery and burning passion. I'd go as far as to call this pure and raw emotion of mine 'vengeance'. RAWR!

After all the whining and griping tho, I'm stuck. Stuck because the path I chose requires a certification of some sort (and the system for the certification sucks balls), stuck in this rat race with no real qualification because I lack the former, and will continue to be a nobody until I can get away from this... this job of mine, this system that confines me so far down the executive level.

Corporate life doesn't interest me one bit, but isn't that what MOST parents have in mind for their children? If the waves of economic tidalwaves didn't open their eyes to the fact that even with the best education (unless you're a doctor or ... I don't know... some other really useful stuffs), there is no such thing as 'security' and 'success', with the latter being even MORE far fetched because working below, or for someone else will never make you any near successful.

How do you define the term 'success' is up to you. For most, it's probably something like this:-

1) work your ass off, fighting for promotions, or jumping to other companies that gives you better offer, with five figure monthly salary as your aim which would probably take about 15 years or so of your life.

2) during the progress of item 1 in the above, somewhere in between, build a family with your other half. Poor family planning leads to the incurrence of a 'few' (hopefully just one) non-satisfiable financial liabilities (but that's okay, I mean it could be worse, that kid could be of a different colour and you didn't have a pre-nup signed)

3) finally you have reached the top (read: your top), rushing off to meetings daily, coming home late at night, You are at your corporate prime. You are a corporate beast. People cower in fear when they deal with you as much as they respect your corporate prowess. *FEAR!*... but you come home to a crying son, a troubled daughter and a lonely wife whom you suspect is spending too much time with the neighbour's husband, or the brother, or whoever (if she's spending time with a she then you're probably in luck! DO NOT COMPLAIN)

4) Recession hits the globe and you, for the first time in your entire life and with a huge ass mortgage (not the kids) on your shoulder, are afraid that you may be retrenched. So what now? You did everything your parents wanted you to do, you were earning fat salary before this (or that) and you barely settled a quarter of the bill for the house that you just bought. What could possibly go worse? Maybe your wife wants a divorce (although at this stage it's probably good news unless you gotta pay for the legal fees).

I kid, I joke, I joke a little bit more, I kid even further.

I don't know if whatever I just wrote is plausible. I really don't. I mean it could, I just don't want it to happen to me... but I have a bad feeling, a really bad feeling that it all starts with a fool like me, sitting here in an office, without much to do on a Saturday (YES THE SATURDAY FUCKING SUCKS) keeps telling himself "It'll all be fine. It'll all be better, it has to be." for the rest of the following miserable ten corporate years (as well as the unbearable Saturdays) to come.

On the up side of things, with a shirt, a tie, slacks and leather shoes, we look fuckin smart.

D-Day, July 2009

Nothing much left to write. All seems hopeless and I am surprisingly optimistic. Yes, I am surprised myself. With what I have now, there is no way I can handle the coming exams. The only thing I keep telling myself that all will be alright is because I have 1 week left to wrap up all the crap I have left out.

I look at the papers, I look at the things written on it, and I honestly do not know what am I looking for. Maybe I am looking for some clues, some answers, some miracles even... because whatever that is written on those revision papers are definitely not knowledge.

What good is knowledge when you can't use them?

... yet the pages beckons.

Where has it gone?

I didn't remember the first 3 years of my life after I was born. No, not even a single image that exists in my head that I can confirm. Starting from the age of four, things started to get a little clearerl; there are certain events I can recall from actually being a toddler. Even so, I suspect some of these memories are pieces of what's left of my toddler days. I think that there are some two to three year old events I have mistakenly thought they have happened at the age of four. Oh well, where's the line that distinguishes between age when we're kids that young except for birthday cakes and the numbers of candles on it? When I was a kid, everything seemed huge and everywhere with a space big enough for me to fit in is a playground. Time was indefinite, that is... until my first social duty kicks in; School.

I remember there was this once I still didn't know how to count, I was probably four (kids nowadays can do division at six, talk about what the f**k.) I was trying to make sense out of the ritual of tearing off calender pages at every 'month'. I didn't know what month and year was, but I was sure as hell trying to crack my head just to figure out the difference. That was just a one off experience when I was in my dad's old car on the way to pick up my mom from her work.

The good old days, when I'm still a good kid listening to whatever he says. I just remembered that I will always say yes to going out with my parents, or even just with one of them whenever the situation arise. I was almost too eager to say yes to begin with. The night drives when in his car was fun, it was a journey to look forward to. To see my mom for the first time in the day (it was at night though...), and then to go home together. I would look for things to do, because I sure as hell couldn't appreciate musics playing in the car radio back then. That was also the first time my fascination for the world beyond the sky grew. Stars were so captivating, and whatever that remains out there. You see, back then in the 1980s, KL wasn't half as bright as it is now during night time. You could still see the stars clearly, and the sky is filled with them. Almost too beautiful. My stupidity kicked in when I blurted out to my dad in the car "WHY IS THE MOON FOLLOWING US?!" I never get to find out why until many years later.

In retrospect, I regret the day I learn to say no. Saying no to him when he said he's going out to pick up my mom, to go to places. I thought saying that would mean I was growing up, at least, to be not as dependent on my parents. What a fool, I clearly misinterpreted things back then. I'm not sure now that the first time I said that, I may have caused some hurt. Was I not filial? I sure hope not. I'm pretty sure now that if I had not say no, I'd have more fond memories of them now, especially my mother's. Y'know the days when Subang Parade was all the hype back then? I wish it still is now.

Two decades later, I'm an adult now, and my family has been through much. Almost too much. The past few years came and passed too fast, as compared to the days when I was four, a month seemed like a year. Right now a month seemed like a week. I guess it's because we simply have too much on our plate, too many things to do, too many things to think, to plan about... and we hardly have anytime ourselves, to do things we want to do. I remember reading this somewhere, that time is a mischievous little kid; when we are having fun, when we are enjoying ourselves, it would run away from us, steal our time away, but when we are having a hard time, being bored, it would not go away, and it seemed like these time would linger on forever.

Come to think of it now, I didn't realise how much I love my younger brothers. Oh well, I gotta stop ranting now. Time to work.

The Saturday after Good Friday.

Bitter Employee's Log:

3.20 PM: Just started on my work and it's half done. Boy, if that isn't efficiency I don't know what is. Wasting time and being inefficient are completely different. At least they are in my books. If I were to complete the work the moment I step into the office, I'd have the piles of papers/documents/files on my desk as my pillow. Shush.

Earlier, I was browsing around. I must admit, I'm a rather curious person. Apart from Wikipedia and mangas, I've been stumbling upon blogs (I use the word 'stumbling' because I literally did stumble upon the blogs without the intention of me looking for it in the first place... that's what stumble is, right?) of people I know, or knew. The line is shoddy nowadays, but pay no heed to it, for I do not really give a damn. They provide good entertainment to pass time, as well as a method of catching up. What? What are you talking about? Invasion of privacy? It's a blog. I'm such a gossip? It's a blog! I read whatever the hell they wrote!

Still, after reading the latest blog I found, I'm somewhat depressed. What's with people constantly wallowing themselves in pity and sorrow (read: Emo). I know life sucks, your lover left you for a wealthier dude, or your lover turns out to be a homo (okay the last one really do suck), but is there not a point to it? Life is such, no? I mean I doubt 'life' itself personally see to it that you are supposed to be a born loser... if you are a loser then it's because you really are one. Not because of what others did to you or what they didn't do for you, it's you who failed to act when you should have acted, and the proper course of action that was ought to be taken.

I'm by no means a better person. I'm probably condemned right now for being so generic about losers (and emos). Tho I must admit (shamelessly and rightfully so) that I am a much happier person than the average person. Yes! Happier-than-thou.

Here's a tip, if you can't get what you want, then maybe you ought to set the standard bar somewhat lower. You could just scrape through by living your life in a lie. No harm done hey. Or... you could keep up with the rate you're going and attempt suicide by stabbing yourself with the pen (or pencils or any such other sharp objects) and at the same time hope you really do kill yourself, that... or your selfless (read: selfish) and honorable (read: not-so) act of self mutilation would warrant a surge of emotion by your aspiring (read: sarcasm) and prospective (read: sarcasm & I hope not) lover / soulmate for life strong enough for him/her to want to care for you and all your stab wounds.

I have little to no respect to those who would use their own lives to threaten someone else into giving in into their demands.

Similarly, to those who likes to drown themselves with sorrow and get high on anti-depressants, for whatever reasons (disclaimer: except those who, for some exceptional case really deserves to be fed with such medical remedies recommended by certified/license practitioners, and regardless of the fact that I am still somewhat reserved and sceptical to the same.) , or just because, you're not too far away from those "I-WILL-SHOOT-MYSELF-IN-THE-BALLS-IF-YOU-DON'T-GO-OUT-WITH-ME!" people. I almost forgot about those people who have good looks, good health (read: not ugly, not dying tho the latter is actually a matter of time/latency) but constantly whines about how life is unfair and a bitch... and those who weighs 120pounds but claims to be fat and overweight, please buy a nailgun and shoot yourself repeatedly in the face ( Warning! Sarcasm! Please, it's a joke, don't take it seriously although if you do happen to be one of those people as mentioned, it would be recommended that you actually do it, I do hope no one dies from reading this.)

In contrast, to those who do not have the financial luxury to afford themselves with 'medicines', but who are in a better position to consume such 'medicines' aka people who are disabled, but doing their very best to have a positive outlook in life, and constantly wearing a genuine smile on their face and to be able to come to terms with their loss, they are epic and worthy to be emulated.

"I have alot of sad memories, I'm miserable to live this life/ spend this night alone, yadda yadda yadda"... and you're full of shit too.

Good Friday. TFGIFF

First, SCREW YOU FRIDAY! Not only I have to work tomorrow, but knowing that for some others in other parts of this world are having today off AS OF RIGHT seriously makes me rants at the injustice of it all.

Second, Dom, my colleague is in one of those days where he seems wackier than usual. Come to think of it, wacky isn't such a good term. He reminds me of patients in a mental health institution, I mean, when someone says "People fear me as much as they fear diarrhea.", you know something is wrong somewhere. Probably some screws are loose, but knowing him for about half a year, I'd say he doesn't have much screws to keep his mind sane in the first place.

He is no doubt a fun person, that and he subsequently wished for a diarrhea.

Oh, and I have just received news yesterday that the CLP schedule is out and payment for the examination is due. The D-day is set on 13th July. That literally translates to "You're screwed". No exaggeration here. I wonder what sort of interference is in store for me to deter me from taking the exam this year.

On other news, it seems that streamyx has finally repaired the connection to international sites such as Hong Kong and the USA, either they did or someone else. The details matters little, as far as I am concerned. I'm just glad youtube and my WoW connection isn't moving like a brittle-boned 90 year old woman.

Now, I'm at work, trying to finish up my work. At least, for the more important parts of it, I'm a quarter away before I can hand them up. For the less significant ones, screw it, they can wait a little more while I am dealing with this big one. Lunch time is two hours away.

Speaking of which, what am I gonna have for lunch? That question never fails to provide some little humour and entertainment in my department.

Since I am working tomorrow when no one else in the department is, I'll be studying for the exam of my life (and hopefully I can clear it so I can say baibai to my current hostile working environment, somewhat). Why I say so is because while your safety in the office is pretty much safe, your mental health is significantly at risk. (Please refer to my statements in the above; my colleague).

Before fast forwarding to tomorrow, chaffeur duty awaits right after work. I sure hope she gets back to her office before I reach or I'm gonna flip.

Only in Asia they make you wake up at 5, reach work at 6 and releases you from work at 7 when it is expressly stipulated in the letter of offer aka 'sell-your-soul-to-the-devil contract', that you're supposed to work from 8:30 to 5:30, on Fridays.

To the readers out there (highly unlikely) who possess a decent IR/Employment law knowledge (even more unlikely), can the employer make an employee stay behind for more work against his or her will without any considerations? As far as I know, executive status employees are not elligible for overtime payments.

Then again, what is there to argue? I'd think if this matter is to be brought up to the Industrial Courts, it would still be a no brainer case i.e. the employee would win the suit. Boss wants their staff to be punctual on meetings, or to come into office on time for that matter, but wouldn't let them go home on time. Lousy double standards.

Much to my dismay nonetheless, Malaysians in general, are very timid people. Most of the working class are I think. Heck, I am one too since I'm still dependent on the payroll however meagre it is. No one would be bothered enough to stand up and fight for their rights if it means trouble despite however bright the possibility of them winning their fight. The braver ones become policitians. The even braver ones starts robbing people under the broad daylight.

What gives? srsly.

the roads we walk

"Tonight I lack the strength to even move,

When you walked, now watch me die..."

---

News of how the recent economic crisis is comparable, if not worse than the 1930s Great Depression is worrying, especially towards those who have faced such difficult times may find a dreadful sense of familarity multiplied by a few times over.

For us rookies earning at the minimum wage scale, it probably didn't matter as much. The root cause for this episode of turmoil is credit abuse, arguably the very same reason for the Great Depression some 7-8 decades back. I'm no economic guru, but it does occur to me that if we have failed to learn from back then, when will we ever learn? Or we did learn, but the transitions between the generations (save for the turbulent era marred by the world wars) have effectively diminished the need to learn from the lessons that we ought to have learned and preserved?

---

"For I know this is harder for you,

For love has let you down..."

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Further news on the economy, a country went bankrupt, and governments around the world are announcing stimulant packages and bailout plans, injecting billions of dollars into the economy with the objective to 'stimulate' the economy and to save corporates from crashing down. This move is greeted with little enthusiasm, probably with as much enthusiasm of a cleaner looking forward to cleaning toilets, and with even less optimism. Nevertheless, private corporate entities saved by the government throughout the said means are now effectively state owned.

---

"yeah C'mon

I am not alone..."

---

Economic wise, I'm sure the world will change, for the better or worse.

---

"The road ahead is lined with broken dreams,

So walk, yeah walk on by

And I failed to give you everything you need,

For the fears, behind your eyes..."

---

Professional doomsayer has 'prophesised' that this world is doomed beyond salvation thanks to global warming. The time for us to act has passed and now we can only hope to mitigate the damage by taking drastic actions, and even that is not very hopeful. From the looks of things, chances are we will probably be doing more to help us save our pockets than to chop less trees and burn less fuel.

---

"When I cant feel you,

I'm not alright, I'm not alright,

When I cant feel you,

I'm not alright, I'm not alright,

When I cant feel you ..."

---

I think we're pretty much screwed, and damned our future generations to burn in this beautiful but soon to be dead home. I walk around in the mall and look at the newborn babies being brought about by their parents. They are such cute stuffs, innocent and beautiful. Yet at the back of my head I can't help but to think "oh you're so screwed 20 years down the road."

What's in store for us? For my family, my beloved and I?

---

"Jesus as you throw me on the rocks,

For love I left your side

'cus I believed in love and beautys wiles,

Where heaven shone from your eyes..."

---

Then I thought to myself how much I'm in love, the rest of the world didn't matter. The world can be non-existant as long as we're together. That's a premature way of saying things, and a very selfish one. Not that I'm not conscious as to what's going on with the rest of the world apart from the two of us. The truth is, I'm always aware; the truth is, the truth is far from what I had believed in.

I'm not willing to give up on my home, this country, this world. Despite my best intentions, and the fact that I have not yet thought of a viable course of action to help contribute to the cause of putting this world back on track, my only saving grace left, my hope of things will be alright is with her, and my family.

---

"Chained to your tree

I wanted you to say

I wanted you to say

I wanted to believe

Chained to your tree

I wanted you to say

I wanted you to say..."

---

If only things are easier said than done, or things are easier to save than to destroy, or to be pious is easier than to be corrupt.

If only malice is as restrained as kindness we have for each other...

This world we have, would've been a better place, no?

---

"Tell me that it wasnt all for naught,

Its such a waste now, Its such a waste now cmon

I know your scared but baby dont you hide,

Its such a waste,

You'll stand alone now, you'll make it somehow "

---

... my wager is risky, for I'm betting that at the end of the day, the devastation wouldn't consume me. My hope and faith is strong, strong as a well fortified fortress, I'm confident that it would weather whatever oncoming onslaught.

... but all that would be lost if I were to pull this through alone, even if I could make it somehow.

---

*title of song: Alright,

by: Pilot Speed*

Try

Grandma was sitting on her rocking chair, a chair they owned so long ago. Like any other vibrant and bubbly teen, she told Grandma she was going out for the day. Grandma said nothing, but nodded her head with a smile in consent, constantly rocking back and forth.

Her home was old; zinc roof, make shift pipelines, without a door sign... a squatter's home. As much as she tries, the grill would always shriek loudly, yet it was not loud enough for the accustomed ears. Grandma was not bothered with the shrieking grill, to her it was nothing more than a silence; the silence of the neighbourhood they are in. Thus begins her routine walk to the bus stand.

"Two hundred paces, exactly two hundred paces" she thought. She stopped in her tracks after hearing the voice of an angry adult yelling and scolding over some menial problems. Two hundred paces was the number of steps she was counting a year ago, the number she remembers until she lost count, interupted by the yelling of this very same man.

She paused in her tracks, staring into the house, and like every house in the neighbourhood and her's, there is only a grill. A little boy came into her sight, pouting his lips followed by who is presumably the little boy's sister, sobbing incessantly. She never understood why that man is so full of angst, and as a teen in this neighbourhood, she probably never bothered to try to care.

Her little trip took her to a park, a small park constructed for the children nearby the government's low cost flats to play. Despite her instinct to shy away from the unforgiving sun, she could not help to look at a couple of children running around in the park, braving the heat. She was probably getting a little nostalgic, and vowed to come back to the park later that day, a vow she makes almost too hastily, and a vow she never fulfill.

Her trip to the local mall was fun, so fun she did not realise the passing of time. It was not too late, but for a teen like her with a semi-strict mother, 5 o'clock is her Cinderella's 12 midnight. After getting off from the very same bus stand she was earlier in the afternoon, she began her dull journey back to her home.

She paused at the same park again... not that she remembers her vow. She saw the same boy, and his sister running around in the park, except this time they were constantly smiling, laughing, sometimes looking excited when one is chasing the other in the game of tag. "What a bunch of mischiefs" she thought. Yet the sight has undoubtedly made her chuckle a little inside, she smiled at the sight of such happiness, and the memory of her earlier encounter with them was cast far away.

Without much thought, she approached the children, offering some sweets she bought from her trip to the mall earlier. They accepted her gift, after all she is not a stranger to them, but a neighbour who lives some two hundred paces away. "Xie xie jie jie!" said the children in unison, and loudly too before running away resuming their game of tag. She found an empty swing, and with her nostalgic thoughts of being a little girl again getting stronger by the minutes, she quickly occupies it, not wanting to let another have it. There she sat, swinging forth and back slowly, recounting her life not too long ago, of thoughts where she was barely half her height, but swinging almost 90 degrees on the very same thing she is sitting on now, having more courage than what she has now.

"Childhood..." she chuckled again.

She looked to her sides, saw the little boy earlier swinging very high up, a perfect fit of the image she recounted earlier while she was swimming in the pool of her childhood memories, she could see herself in the place of the little boy. Looking forward, she saw the boy's sister, giving her a look that says "can I use the swing now, please?".

Looking from not too far away, looking at the two children she barely knows swinging high up in the park, laughing loudly, she find herself rooted to the place. She was rooted deeper after seeing the overall sight, a park full of children, running around screaming in joy, or some of those who are crying after falling down and being consoled by caring mothers or maids.

For the first time in her life, she ceased lamenting on her life, about being born in a poor family, living in a less-than-the-rest neighbourhood. "How very intangible" she thought, slowly acknowledging that happiness in fact, can be found simply anywhere, but one must know where to look.

The grill shrieks again as she opens it, making her way through.

"Sitt fann lo (time to eat in hakka)" said Grandma.