Where The Winds Blow

To a distant land we blow,
Fly and be lost afar,
From seas to lands unbeknownst to time,
To where emptiness is solitude and silence is solace.


Roam and run, oh young lad!
The essence of youth thus has its fair share,
Follow the voice within or fear despair
For only once a man can traverse this affair


The world so rich and so wide
All is in the hands of time and tide
None is to any man to bide
Choices are fine so take your side


Oh...how deafening the voices outside
Their thundrous whispers keep you abide
But the path most trod wouldn't always be right
What is right will present its might
In due time. In due time.
Until then oh young lad,
Close your eyes
Watch as darkness succumb to light
Until then young lad,
Go where the winds blow
And know that wisdom if there you'll never lose sight.


- Where The Winds Blow

Riding Low When the Tide's High

Tidbits: You know somehow I figure that successful blogs are those that satiate the LOA compulsion which explains why my blog is a failure. Yes, excuses.


College life is officially over and I'm bittersweet about it. I don't think I miss it a lot (especially all the ruckus) but a great deal was learnt throughout the past 18 months. Something feels amiss though. It's the sensible (or senseless) feeling that makes everything feel out of place. Because I had things to accomplish, goals to achieve and direction to head towards in the past, the newly attained freedom is awkward. I always have these big 'after exams' plan and funnily they always seem to achievable when I'm reading the textbooks. The ambitious mind just dies off after that and you begin slacking (with calories in between). Life needs to break out of this dull cycle and I guess I'm the playwright who determines just that. Damn, all these is just too deep for laziness mode. Think less, act more.


I'm going to compose a story now. Feeling the itch of writing.

Keep the Pace!

Tidbits: Sometimes self-help can only last so long. I need a Morrie.


I'm going to be honest- I have absolutely no good-worthreading-KennySia material to blog about. Everything seems very empty right now, my brain included. This is what you call being burnt out and in a state of ashes. I think this blog will turn into those typical 73642387 emo blogs you find on the net very soon.
No, I'll not allow that to happen. That's frankly a lifeless thing to do. It's very "Nigel's blog archives of 2006/2007".


And btw, doesn't the word 'delirium' sound dreamy? It's like the Patrick Dempsey of the vocabulary world, McDreamy, no?. Delirium. Delirious. Yes, I'm might be somewhat close to that. I think I'll be happier to see the world in a delusional manner. So, I Googled (actually Yahoo!ed, oh well for formality's sake) 'delirious' hoping to stumble upon a lunatic photo. All the pictures I see are those belonging to some gospel band called Delirious. Okay, so I'm not that bad since even gospel singers need help.


Moving on at the speed of light. A word of advice: Don't marry an economist.
They're definitely not Shakespeare material, so don't expect showers of sonnets and love scripts. Let me give you an analogy. It's almost like MLTR being economists singing Paint My Love and the MV has illustrations of graphs. I'm making this sweeping statement, and we all have my economics lecturer to thank. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love her though I think she'll probably draw a graph of my affections and find the equilibrium point where I'll love her enough to do anything for her.
One of the biggest regret of my life: Taking economics.
One of the smartest thing I've done in my life: Taking economics.


My current life mission (with respect to the time of writing this entry) is
#1: To find my earphones. Losing things is one of my biggest pet peeves. I honestly hate losing things. What pains it even more is that I have conditioned myself to be extra (and believe me, I have) careful, so when these things happen it basically sucks. I even make an effort to check back twice at minimum at any place that I've sat down before making a move everytime it's on the brink of OCD. Then again, I know it's in A Place Called Here.


#2: Run. Yes, physically using my legs, not the running away from problems kind. About time to give the gluteus maximus a cry too. I think it's a good way to destress. A serene park with yellow autuum leaves and a large pristine lake in the middle would be swell. Alternatively, a more realistic choice would be a garbage and noise filled Malaysian park. Swell.


I think I need to continue writing for a fine escapade from the craziness. It's a blessing to be able to get lost entirely in your thoughts. It's the only place where you can yell "I'm king of the world!" without having a bird fly past your head and leave it's mark.


Okay, time to stop this delirium. FML.

Have A Little Faith

Personally, I always wondered about authors and celebrities who loudly declared there was no God. It was usually when they were healthy and popular and being listened to by crowds. What happens, I wondered, in the quiet moments before death? By then, they have lost the stage, the world moved on. If suddenly, in their last gasping moments, through fear, a vision, a late enlightenment, they changed their minds about God, who would know?



Most religions warn against war, yet more wars have been fought over religion then perhaps anything else. Christians have killed Jews, Jews have killed Muslims, Muslims have killed Hindus, Hindus have killed Buddhists, Catholics have killed Protestants, Orthodox have killed pagans, and you could run that list backward and sideways and it would still be true. War never stops; it only pauses.

I asked the Reb if, over the years, he had changed his view on war and violence.
"Do you remember Sodom and Gomorrah?" he asked.
" So you know Abraham realized those people were bad. He knew they were miserable, vicious. But what else does he do? He argues with God against destroying the cities. He says, Can you at least spare them if there are fifty good people there? God says okay. Then he goes down to forty, then thirty. He knows there aren't that many. He bargains all the way down to ten before he closes the deal."
And they still fell short, I said.
"And they still fell short, " the Reb confirmed. "But you see? Abraham's instincts were correct. You must first argue against warfare, against violence and destruction, because these are not normal ways of living."

But so many people wage wars in God's name.
"Mitch, " the Reb said, "God does not want such killing to go on."
Then why hasn't it stopped?
He lifted his eyebrows.
"Because man does."


I flipped through the pages and out fell three small black-and-white photos, faded and smudged with dirt. One was of an older dark-haired woman, Arabic and matronly looking. One was of a moustached younger Arabic man in a suit and tie. The last photo was of two children, side by side, presumably a brother and sister.
Who are they, I asked.
"I don't know," he said, softly.
He held out his hand and I gave him the photo of the children.
"Over the years, I kept seeing these kids, the mother, her son. That's why I never threw the book away. I felt I had to keep them alive somehow. "I thought maybe someday someone would look at the pictures, say they knew the family, and return them to the survivors. But I'm running out of time."
He handed me the photo back.
Wait, I said. I don't understand. From your religious viewpoint, these people were the enemy.
His voice grew angry.
"Enemy schemenemy." he said. "This was a family."



Soon we tumbled into the most fundamental debate. How can different religions coexist? If one faith believes one thing, and another believe something else, how can they both be correct? And does one religion have the right-or even the obligation-to try and convert the other?

Is there any winning a religious argument? Whose God is better than whose? Who got the Bible right or wrong? I preferred figures like Rajchandra, the Indian poet who influenced Gandhi by teaching that no religion was superior because they brought all people closer to God; or Gandhi himself, who would break fast with Hindu prayers, Muslim quotations, or a Christian hymn.

"Ask yourself, 'Why did God create but one man?' " the Reb said, wagging a finger. "Why if he meant for there to be faiths bickering with each other, didn't he create that from the start? He created trees, right? Not one tree, countless trees. Why not the same with man?

"Because we are all from that one man-and all from that one God. That's the message."
Then why, I asked, is the world so fractured?
"Well, you can look at it this way. Would you want the world to all look alike? No. The genius of life is its variety.

"Even in our own faith, we have questions and answers, interpretations, debates. In Christianity, in Catholicism, in other faiths, the same thing-debates, interpretations. That is the beauty. It's like being a musician. If you found the note, and you keep hitting the note all the time, you would go nuts. It's the blending of the different notes that makes the music."

The music of what?

"Of believing in something bigger than yourself."
But what if other faith won't recognise yours? Or wants you dead for it?

"That is not faith. That is hate." He sighed. "And if you ask me, God sits up there and cries when this happens."

How can you-a cleric- be so open minded? I asked.

"Look. I know what I believe. It's in my soul. But I constantly tell our people: you should be convinced of the authenticity of what you have, but you must also be humble enough to say that we don't know everything. And since we don't know everything, we must accept that another person may belief something else."

He sighed.
"I am not being original here, Mitch. Most religions teach us to love our neighbour."
I thought about how much I admired him at that moment. How he never, even in private, even in old age, tried to bully another belief, or bad-mouth someone else's devotion. And I realized I should've been more proud, less intimidated. I shouldn't have bitten my tongue. If the only thing wrong with Moses is that he's not yours; if the only thing wrong with Jesus is that he's not yours; if the only thing wrong with mosques, Lent, chanting, Mecca, Buddha, confession, or reincarnation is that they're not yours-well, maybe the problem is you.



What if you get only five minutes with God?
"Five minutes?" he said.
Five minutes, I said. God is a busy God. Here's your slice of heaven. Five minutes alone with the Lord and then, poof, on you go to whatever happens next.
"And in those five minutes?" he asked, intrigued.
In those five minutes, you can ask anything you want.
"Ah.Okay."

"First, I would say, 'Do me a favour, God in heaven, if you can, members of my family who need help, please show them the way on earth. Guide them a little."
Okay, that's a minute.
"The next three minutes, I'd say, 'Lord, give these to someone who is suffering and requires your love and counsel."
You'd give up three minutes?
"If someone truly needs it, yes."
Okay, I said. That still leaves you a minute.

"All right. In that final minute, I would say, 'Look, Lord, I've done X amount of good stuff on earth. I've tried to follow your teachings and to pass them on. I have loved my family. I've been part of a community. And I have been, I think, fairly good to people.
"So, Heavenly Father, for all this, what is my reward?"

And what do you think God will say?
He smiled.
"He'll say, 'Reward? What reward? That's what you were supposed to do!"
I laughed and he laughed, and he bounced his palms on his thighs and our noise filled the house. And I think, at that moment, we could have been anywhere, anybody, any culture, any faith- a teacher and a student exploring what life is all about and delighting in the discovery.

In the beginning, there was a question. In the end, the question gets answered. God sings, we hum along, and there are many melodies, but it's all one song-one same, wonderful human song.

I am in love with hope.


Have A Little Faith- Mitch Albom

Hellooo Again!

Tidbits: To know the height of a blog's fame, one must examine the cbox. If there is spam, you're famous!

I know I've been MIA for quite some time. I think people could use a break from me. I could use a break from myself =/

I am doing this just to convince myself that I've not abandoned my blog. Apparently, posting this makes not much of a difference.

I'm lost for words. The writer has a mental block.

So, ciao!

=O

Crime Does Pay...in Texas.

Tidbits: Just when I thought my blogging mojo is gone, I stumbled upon a rather blog-worthy article. Such is life, isn't it? Always surprising.


As time passes, old things are generally replaced by the new. Nothing goes unescaped-even wise sayings like "Crime Does Not Pay." Because NOW, it actually does..and pays pretty well too. How well? Hmm, a million USD seems to be well enough for the average Tom, Dick, Harry and Nigel.


Okay, fine! Crime does not pay at all, at least not if you really rape someone, kill a baby or rob an old lady. But what if you were falsely accused of something you did not commit? There will be two possible scenarios.


#1 : You get the death sentence and can forget about making millions.
#2 : You go behind bars and pray for a long long long long sentence and a longer life.


"Exonerees will get $80,000 for each year they spent behind bars. The compensation also includes lifetime annuity payments that for most of the wrongly convicted are worth between $40,000 and $50,000 a year — making it by far the nation's most generous package."


In case you don't know what exonerees are, they are people who are exonerated. Make sense, no?
Okay, in other words, these people are those who are cleared from accusations and blame.


"Besides the lump sum and the monthly annuity payments, the bill includes 120 hours of paid tuition at a public college. It also gives exonerees an additional $25,000 for each year they spent on parole or as registered sex offenders."


No better and easier way to pay for college, eh?


In a way, I think we should count our blessings that cases like these only happen in the U.S. Imagine having such a system in Malaysia. People would be lining up to be sued for all the snatch theft cases on the street I tell you. You think they wouldn't?


Hey, the people we are talking about are people who take 100 pencils at Ikea when there's a humble note saying "Save the environment and PLEASE TAKE ONE ONLY." Oh yes, and not to mention buying a large cup of Coke from McDonalds', share among five and then get countless refills.


Sometimes I am impressed by the economical ways in which we live. Maybe this is why we are rather recession-proof compared to many other countries.







Now, to Google 'Unsolved Crimes in Texas' and make a choice. What do you think? Rape, murder, robbery or money laundering?


I'm on my way to making my millions.


Disclaimer: The blogger shall not be held responsible for the significant increase of crime rates.

And Then It's Down to One

Tidbits: I still cannot believe I'm hooked onto Barn Buddy and Happy Farm. It's such a kiddy thing. It's childish and inanimate. It's so...me.


As I'm standing here looking down the final phase of the journey of my college education, I cannot help but steal occasional (okay, maybe frequent) looks at what was behind me. Everytime I do that, I see something to be treasured. Something that gives me fulfillment. Something you call....HOLIDAYS. Sob sob.

Okay, life has to go on.


Hewood. Hewood. Hewood.


Ignore that.


I've got nothing interesting to write about. Politics bore me to the bones these days. I don't know wtf is wrong with MCA but there's something wrong. Well, wasn't there always a problem?


I'm taking Economics this semester. I hope it would not be that much of a problem, but it's quite terrifying when your lecturer says that the subject is an unemotional one. Never mind that, economists aren't very human anyway. Psychology should be interesting, it's more...emotional.


I've got nothing else to say, and kicking myself in the butt for it. What happened to my mojo, I dunno.