tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23769589108340358542011-10-29T22:08:03.363+10:30oh, how i love rainbows :)[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.comBlogger461100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-17883673867767662112011-07-10T21:16:00.003+09:302011-07-11T07:24:14.939+09:30"Are you ready to die for the country?" I asked as I walked together with Simeon heading from Mirama Hotel on Jalan Maharajalela to Petaling Street.<div><br /></div><div>My honest answer to my question was - No. I don't believe I should die now. When I'm only 24. There is so. much. more that I want and believe I can do for my country.</div><div><br /></div><div>"But what if it takes bloodshed for people to wake up? What if we were the ones to go - so that people will finally realize the need for change?" was Simeon's reply.</div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>I drove home on Thursday night. And this motorcyclist was in rage, thinking I was going to endanger his life. He drove so quickly, honking the whole way.. and as he approached my car, he bent over and shouted at the top of his lungs at me.</div><div><br /></div><div>Wow, I thought. If this was how it's like when there's NO rally, I cannot imagine what would happen on July 9th.</div><div><br /></div><div>I thought of chickening out.</div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>I flip-flopped the entire 8th of July. To go, or not to go? Every time somebody asked me if I was going, I flashed them a nervous smile.</div><div><br /></div><div>What if I die? What if I don't die.. but end up with a disability? Gaahhh.</div><div><br /></div><div>But the biggest why was - WHY DO I FIND MYSELF FEARING THE GOVERNMENT?? THE VERY PEOPLE WHO ARE SUPPOSED TO MAKE SURE I'M SAFE??</div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>I knocked on the door of 608. And after a request for the "Secret Password", the door was opened to 13 other people. Young people. People I call friends. </div><div><br /></div><div>I sat amongst them, and we talked late into the night. Of our game plan. How we would run. What we would need to counter the possible attacks we would face.</div><div><br /></div><div>We slept. And woke to the sound of FRU trucks moving into the city.</div><div><br /></div><div>You would have thought it was World War III. </div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>We packed salt. Prepared bi-carb soda solution. Soaked our towels in vinegar. Prayed. And left in twos and threes. </div><div><br /></div><div>We walked towards Petaling Street. People we met along the way were silent.. It was the calm before the storm. Grim. None of us knowing what would happen. </div><div><br /></div><div>As we walked further into the heart of the city, we heard chants.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Hidup, hidup! Hidup Bersih! Hidup, hidup! Hidup Rakyat!"</div><div><br /></div><div>And something in me started. It was a growing excitement. </div><div><br /></div><div>We followed the crowd. Chanting as we walked along. </div><div><br /></div><div>Deep inside me, I was still afraid. I looked around me. Most people do not have the same coloured skin as I do. If riot was to break out, I would have been Peking duck in 2 seconds. </div><div><br /></div><div>We looked on. And strategized to join the crowd and be in the middle. Lest anything should happen, at least we were not in the vulnerable fringes.</div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>Menara Maybank. </div><div><br /></div><div>1Malaysia #1. I met an elderly Chinese aunty. This was not her first rally. The Anti-ISA rally was her first. She was doing it for her children, she said.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tear Gas #1. We ran helter-skelter.</div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>Tung Shin Hospital.</div><div><br /></div><div>We were waiting with the rest to march to the stadium. But the Men in Blue gave us no rest. </div><div><br /></div><div>Tear Gas #2. We ran helter-skelter again. </div><div><br /></div><div>We ran into the shelter, eyes, nose and throat hurting from the gas. </div><div><br /></div><div>ALL I WANT IS CLEAN AND FAIR ELECTIONS!! WHY AM I TREATED LIKE A CRIMINAL?!?</div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>1Malaysia #2. We ran into shelter. Eyes still stinging. </div><div><br /></div><div>4 Malay boys stood around. And offered us salt. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Rub it around your eyes and put some in the roof of your mouth," Arif said. "Take this bag of salt, give it to those who need it."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Thank you, and please, please, please take care." we bade him. </div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>Rain. THANK GOD FOR RAIN!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>Still in Tung Shin Hospital grounds.</div><div><br /></div><div>Tear Gas #3. WE WERE IN THE HOSPITAL GROUNDS, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!</div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>We ran helter-skelter. And we saw a wall. There was no where else to run, as police were chasing with their batons. </div><div><br /></div><div>1Malaysia #3. An elderly Chinese uncle stood by the wall.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Uncle, go first.. go first.." I told him.</div><div><br /></div><div>"No, no.. after you!" And he helped me over the wall. And on the other side of the wall, was another Malay uncle.. standing and giving a hand to all of us who were running. </div><div><br /></div><div>We continued running. </div><div><br /></div><div>1Malaysia #4. I came to another wall. This time, this wall had a metal fence. With sharp pointers.</div><div><br /></div><div>I climbed up the wall. And looked down. There's no way I'm going to make it down there unscathed. </div><div><br /></div><div>A young Malay chap climbed up to where I was. Lifted me, and lowered me down the other side.. his stomach pressing against the sharp metal pointers as he was doing so.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Are you okay???" I turned back and asked. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes, just run," was his reply. </div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>After having survived 3 rounds of tear gas.. we were still dissatisfied. </div><div><br /></div><div>This rally is not over! </div><div><br /></div><div>We heard chants from afar, and decided we would join our fellow comrades in the march to Stadium Merdeka. </div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>1Malaysia #5. As we were heading towards the crowd, we saw 3 Chinese aunties.</div><div><br /></div><div>They warned us against heading in that direction, because they just saw the FRUs and the police beating people up with batons. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Thank you for coming, aunty. For doing this for our generation." I said.</div><div><br /></div><div>She looked at me with bewilderment. Took off her hat, and said to me, "Why do you thank me? My father didn't do this for me. Now I will do it for my children. For my grandchildren. I will march in every state every week - until I see change happen."</div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>We found the crowd. And marched on to KLCC.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Rasa sayang, hey! Rasa sayang sayang hey! Hey..." was what we heard the crowd singing. </div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>We arrived in KLCC. Sat. Made a few more friends.</div><div><br /></div><div>And ran. Because the police were on the heat again.</div><div><br /></div><div>As we ran for our lives, I saw two other people in front of me.</div><div><br /></div><div>In running, they hit and toppled the barricades that were around KLCC. And to my utter amazement, they stopped, picked up the barricades, arranged it to be how it was like before, and continued running.</div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>9th of July, 2011.</div><div><br /></div><div>I am proud.</div><div><br /></div><div>Proud to have friends - students and white-collared workers, who would risk being detained and being treated inhumanely to stand for what is right. </div><div><br /></div><div>Proud to have Malaysian brothers and sisters - this is my pledge. That this will be the last time I refer to anybody by race. Because of the kindness you showed me and my friends today, you showed me that we are CAPABLE, of being COLOUR BLIND.</div><div><br /></div><div>Proud of the way we behaved during the rally. We were not violent. We were courteous. We helped each other. We pushed on despite being treated like dogs because we kept in mind - the next generation that is to come after us. </div><div><br /></div><div>Proud that we showed kindness instead of retaliating when we were provoked.</div><div><br /></div><div>Proud that now, nobody can call us third world - because we did not react the way the Middle East did.</div><div><br /></div><div>And most of all, I am proud - so proud, that WE DID NOT SUCCUMB TO THE TACTICS THAT SOUGHT TO INSTILL FEAR IN US. THAT WE CHOSE TO RISE ABOVE THE FEAR WE HAVE BEEN SO BOUND BY.</div><div><br /></div><div>...</div><div><br /></div><div>Negaraku, tanah tumpahnya darahku.</div><div><br /></div><div>9th July 2011. Proud, really proud.. to be called Malaysian. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-1788367386776766211?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-88298052411664794732010-10-01T00:38:00.004+09:302010-10-01T01:05:09.309+09:30I think the scariest thing about being (or trying to be) yourself (without the facades) is the risk.<br /><br />Supposing that facades act like a shield. Should you not be accepted as this one personality, you simply swap it with another.<br /><br />The risk of being real. The risk of not being accepted for the you you truly are. That state of vulnerability.<br /><br />But then again, not everybody accepts you anyway.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-8829805241166479473?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-81013154095516650202010-07-07T01:08:00.004+09:302010-07-07T01:28:31.351+09:30It's in times like these when blogging is absolutely necessary.<br /><br />Regardless of whether or not I will die at work tomorrow because I didn't sleep at 10pm.<br /><br />...<br /><br />That conflict.<br /><br />Idealism vs. Realism.<br /><br />Yeah, that conflict.<br /><br />...<br /><br />I found 3 words through Psychology that describes best a huge part of who I am.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Just-world belief</span>.<br /><br />How ironic that phrase, especially when we live in a world where nothing is fair, let alone just.<br /><br />...<br /><br />As a kid, I hated it every time we had to split a packet of biscuits/chocolates between us 3 siblings. Because things usually come in even numbers. And splitting it between 3 kids would mean either one of us would get one extra.<br /><br />OR, we'll just have to go through the hassle of dividing the last piece equally into 3 EQUAL (this is a necessity!) parts.<br /><br />OR, we can just throw away the last biscuit/chocolate so that nobody gets any of it.<br /><br />Since then, I vowed to have 4 kids (because 2's too quiet for my liking).<br /><br />I don't like people giving me things I (think) I don't deserve. And I don't like giving people things I (think) they don't deserve.<br /><br />...<br /><br />20 years or so down the road, I'm still that kid that I was long ago.<br /><br />I (still) can't stand it when things are not fair, although I've learnt to loosen up more these days (a necessity, or I'd have a death certificate by now.. what an award!).<br /><br />Just that, at 23.. biscuits and chocolates have turned into larger real-life events. Like the poor and the rich. In every sense of the word.<br /><br />...<br /><br />I own a Bubble. A Bubble I keep myself in. That Bubble that tells me that I have what it takes to try and make things more equitable, if not fair (just).<br /><br />But my Bubble isn't exactly the safest place I can live in.<br /><br />When I have time to browse through other bubbles - such as Facebook and Blogger, I realise that many people outside my Bubble are moving on with what is called Life.. and moving on fast, they are.<br /><br />People outside my Bubble have little time and tolerance to what goes on within my Bubble.<br /><br />And every time Bubble breaks, I am afraid to rebuild it. And I live life just the way it is lived outside Bubble.<br /><br />...<br /><br />I am going nuts, living in and out of my Bubble.<br /><br />...<br /><br />What is that place called - that place where my Bubble and the world can co-exist?<br /><br />Either that, or I will just have to exterminate this Bubble and do away with this disease of a Just-world belief.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Ugh.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-8101315409551665020?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-34259485965758932172010-05-24T02:45:00.000+09:302010-05-24T02:46:05.433+09:30It was my turn @ <a href="http://www.letters-to-australia.blogspot.com">Homecoming</a>.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-3425948596575893217?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-8210303463229654582010-05-23T01:37:00.005+09:302010-05-23T01:42:41.392+09:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.swiss-miss.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/rainbowpancakes-480x634.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 480px; height: 634px;" src="http://www.swiss-miss.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/02/rainbowpancakes-480x634.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />If I can have this for breakfast every morning, I will <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">never</span> complain about waking up early.<br /><br />Promise.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-821030346322965458?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-54437529411322589422010-05-22T01:04:00.001+09:302010-05-22T01:05:42.702+09:30Being 20 something is rather.. confusing.<br /><br />Sigh.<br /><br />I wish I was 30.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-5443752941132258942?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-70052330087958697952010-05-10T17:35:00.005+09:302010-05-10T17:44:03.307+09:30Vait.<br /><br />And vait..<br /><br />..and vait.<br /><br />Vhy?<br /><br />Hhhrrruuuummmmpppphhh.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/S-fAPEASC4I/AAAAAAAAAG8/BrhISQJxQrU/s1600/waiting.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 276px; height: 259px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/S-fAPEASC4I/AAAAAAAAAG8/BrhISQJxQrU/s320/waiting.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469551637470251906" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://onlinepersonaltrainingvideobootcamp.com/blog/uploaded/Blog%20Post%20Images/waiting.gif"><br /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-7005233008795869795?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-55658964531097396372010-05-07T17:53:00.001+09:302010-05-07T17:55:20.389+09:30If you would take time to check this out:<br /><br /><a href="http://letters-to-australia.blogspot.com">Homecoming</a>.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-5565896453109739637?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-41753014053713552252010-04-30T20:02:00.008+09:302010-04-30T22:48:43.685+09:30Welcome.. to Malaysia. Where we have road signs like this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/S9qz21OR_bI/AAAAAAAAAG0/v9m9Mh069es/s1600/Image076.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/S9qz21OR_bI/AAAAAAAAAG0/v9m9Mh069es/s320/Image076.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465878852348804530" border="0" /></a><br />I see signs, and.. I wonder..<br /><br />.. that's signs and wonders for you in Malaysia!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-4175301405371355225?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-35807958889551819102010-04-28T23:09:00.004+09:302010-04-28T23:30:47.159+09:30We have a 6-year old at home.<br /><br />Not bad at art.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/S9g_V2ahKaI/AAAAAAAAAGs/4S2em-78lyk/s1600/Image024.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/S9g_V2ahKaI/AAAAAAAAAGs/4S2em-78lyk/s320/Image024.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5465187792430639522" border="0" /></a>Puffer fish.<br /></div><br />And, can be quite funny. At times.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Things you hear around the house:<br /><br />1.<br />"Get up.. and shake it.. c'monnnn! Get up.. and shake it.. c'monnnn!! ..."<br /><br />(Repeat 3893128419679 times per hour).<br /><br />2.<br />All the single ladies.. all the single ladies..<br />*humming of some random tune*<br /><br />All the single ladies.. all the single ladies..<br />*humming of some random tune*<br /><br />All the single ladies.. all the single ladies..<br />*humming of some random tune*<br /><br />(Repeat the above till you feel hands of older siblings tightening around neck)<br /><br />...<br /><br />And after a car accident.<br /><br />3.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">6 year old: Che!! How come you can hit into the uncle's car wann??</span><br /><br />23 year old: Don't talk to me now.<br /><br />*silence*<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">6 year old: But cheee! How come you didn't stop wan??</span><br /><br />23 year old: I said, don't disturb me now!<br /><br />*silence*<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">6 year old: Che, I think you are very careless you know..</span><br /><br />23 year old: ...<br /><br />I think next time, I shall run over a 6 year old instead of a chicken rice uncle's shop.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-3580795888955181910?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-27974117615021334822010-04-17T01:55:00.009+09:302010-04-17T02:13:31.816+09:30So I went to the market the other day, and I saw a very very <span style="font-size:78%;">small</span> fish. And as I walked further on, I saw a very very <span style="font-size:180%;">BBBBIIIIIIGGGGGG</span> fish.<br /><br />Heh. Nonsensical inside joke by people who matter <3 <br /><br />...<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Big</span> fish, <span style="font-size:78%;">Small</span> fish.<br /><span style="font-size:180%;"><br />Big</span> Apple donuts, <span style="font-size:78%;">Small</span> Apple donuts.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">Big</span> dream, <span style="font-size:78%;">Small</span> dream?<br /><br />...<br /><br />What's a big dream? Or, what makes a dream smaller than big?<br /><br />If all I dream about is my wedding day and the kids that come after.. is that a dream smaller than if I wanted to save the world?<br /><br />How big should a dream be? What's a big dream anyway?<br /><br />How does one avoid making a dream so small that they regret it on their 70th birthday?<br /><br />Why dream?<br /><br />...<br /><br />Hmmm.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Think, think, think."</span> - Winnie the Pooh.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-2797411761502133482?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-29731257137656071832010-04-11T17:04:00.009+09:302010-04-12T01:29:43.790+09:30.. because everything done here under the sun is so troubling.<br /><br />The fastest runner doesn’t always win the race.<br />The strongest warrior doesn’t always win the battle.<br />The wise sometimes go hungry.<br />The skillful are not necessarily wealthy.<br />And those who are educated don’t always lead successful lives.<br />It is all decided by chance, by being in the right place at the right time.<br /><br />I saw the tears of the oppressed, with no one to comfort them.<br />The oppressors have great power, and their victims are helpless.<br />I am not surprised when I see a poor person being oppressed by the powerful,<br />And if justice is being miscarried throughout the land.<br />For every official is under orders from higher up,<br />And matters of justice get lost in red tape and bureaucracy.<br /><br />People and animals share the same fate—both breathe and both must die.<br />Anything I wanted, I would take.<br />I denied myself no pleasure.<br />Everything has already been decided.<br />It was known long ago what each person would be.<br />So there’s no use arguing with God about your destiny.<br /><br />I came to hate all my hard work here on earth,<br />For I must leave to others everything I have earned.<br />And who can tell whether my successors will be wise or foolish?<br />Most people are motivated to success because they envy their neighbors.<br />Money is put into risky investments that turn sour, and everything is lost.<br />Meaningless - everything is meaningless! Completely meaningless!<br />Like chasing the wind.<br /><br />Farmers who wait for perfect weather never plant.<br />If they watch every cloud, they never harvest.<br />To enjoy your work and accept your lot in life—this is indeed a gift from God.<br />Enjoy what you have rather than desiring what you don’t have.<br />God keeps such people so busy enjoying life that they take no time to brood over the past.<br />Don’t long for “the good old days.” This is not wise.<br /><br />Enjoy prosperity while you can,<br />But when hard times strike, realize that both come from God.<br />Remember that nothing is certain in this life.<br />Talk is cheap, like daydreams and other useless activities.<br />Fear God instead.<br />Here now is my final conclusion:<br />Fear God and obey his commands, for this is everyone’s duty.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Solomon, 1011BC.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">In Ecclesiastes (New Living Translation).<br /><br />PS. Rearranged the orders a little. Merely a pick-out-straight-from-text the particular verses that jumped out at me, with no intentions to tweak dear ol' Sol's well meanings. <span style="font-size:78%;">Juuuuuust in case it invokes a theological debate over the rightness of the order :)</span><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-2973125713765607183?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-28913798106094385852010-04-07T02:03:00.007+09:302010-04-07T04:50:15.735+09:30Watched a documentary concerning the environment.. or shall I say, <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">our</span> </span>environment. Which really is a must-watch - <a href="http://www.home-2009.com/us/index.html">Home Project</a>. Haven't seen a doco like that in a while, and it sparked little thought bubbles while I was watching it.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Being at Ikea the other day, I spent a considerable amount of time watching people as they walked pass me. Okay, not <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">thaat</span> kinda watch. While waiting for a friend, what better way to kill time than to wonder about the people around you?<br /><br />And I watched as a lady un-thinkingly took two bags of chips into her arms, and proceeded to take some other items from the food section. Overwhelmed with curiosity, I walked over to see how much a bag of chips would cost. I don't remember now, but somewhere around RM 7.90?<br /><br />My mind did a quick calculation as to how much money one would have to earn each month to buy two bags of potato chips that costs RM 7.90 each without having the words "<span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">BUDGET!!!</span>" flashing before you. Assuming of course, that if you have enough money to not think twice about expensive potato chips, you'd have enough money for many, many other things.<br /><br />I twitched, wondering if I'd ever earn enough money to be unconcerned about how to make the most of my RM 7.90.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Been thinking quite a bit about the pieces of coloured paper that I hardly see in my wallet these days. Well, with unemployment comes unmoneyment. And the last I heard, money is <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">still</span> </span>the solution to man's problems.<br /><br />Back to our environment.<br /><br />Watching how our world really is coming to an end unnaturally, hastened by our actions - made me wonder more about money and what it gives us.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Money doesn't give us a wider range of choices anymore. It now gives us, rights.<br /><br />...<br /><br />With money, we now have the right to own our first car, and not be victims of the public transportation system any longer. And with more money, we have <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">more</span> rights to buy <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">more</span> cars.<br /><br />And when you have many cars and still, <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">more</span> incoming money, we then have the upgraded right of buying better quality oil-guzzling cars. The kind that drink up 3 times more dinosaur juice than actually needed.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Money gives us the right to use more water than we really need to, because, we <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">can</span> afford to <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">pay</span> for it.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Money gives us the right to turn on the air-condition at its maximum capacity because, well, we have what it takes to afford it.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Money gives us the right to convenience. Who needs to carry a water tumbler with them when plastic bottles of mineral water are sold at every corner?<br /><br />...<br /><br />Money gives us the right to be bosses. If not bosses of a company, at the very least, bosses of one - the Indonesian maid. We work them with not even a single day off in 2 years, whilst we complain about our dwindling amount of annual leave.<br /><br />Because we <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">paid</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span>them to work.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Money gave Dubai the power to do this!<br /><br /><img src="file:///C:/DOCUME%7E1/User/LOCALS%7E1/Temp/moz-screenshot.jpg" alt="" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://elsmar.com/jpg/the_world_islands_dubai.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 460px; height: 329px;" src="http://elsmar.com/jpg/the_world_islands_dubai.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>And this!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.dubai-information-site.com/image-files/dubai-palm-islands-jumeirah.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 448px; height: 293px;" src="http://www.dubai-information-site.com/image-files/dubai-palm-islands-jumeirah.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Man-made islands in the shape of the world, and a palm tree. But, all at the cost of our environment.<br /><br />...<br /><br />And the need for money gives us the right to dig, abuse, misuse, exploit - our natural resources that really, doesn't belong to us anyway.<br /><br />...<br /><br />I wonder about the <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">rightness</span> of our rights. And where our quest for Vitamin M will bring us one day.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Well. The thought bubbles originate from the person who will die with only a laptop to her name at this point in time.<br /><br />Perhaps it will give me more right to think about money matters when I <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">actually</span> have them.<br /><br />Time to water the money tree?<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://news.silveroakcasino.com/wp-content/uploads/make-money-sign2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 296px;" src="http://news.silveroakcasino.com/wp-content/uploads/make-money-sign2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-2891379810609438585?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-28093433008957241052010-04-02T01:13:00.004+10:302010-04-02T03:21:15.163+10:30I remember being in a car on Greenhill Road, and having a stir in the tummy. The kinda stir of anxiety that happens before you're about to enter into the exam hall.<br /><br />And it's the fear of - "Have I covered all I needed to cover? What if I missed out on some things? What if I understood some parts wrongly?".<br /><br />The final 2 years was much of a growth spurt. Throw in some responsibilities in OCF, Edge, and a mission trip at that - it was a much-to-learn, much-to-apply kinda life.<br /><br />In the last few months pre-August 09, there was a sudden panic. That I have to 'memorize' things and fill the brain and heart with as much as possible.. in time for the exam.<br /><br />And whilst driving along Greenhill, I had a sudden anxiety that come August 09, the dreaded exams will begin.<br /><br />And indeed, it has.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Circle the correct answer.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">Question 1.</span><br />The value of a person does not lies not in what they do, but in who they are.<br /><ul><li>True</li><li>False<br /></li></ul>...<br /><br />The head tells me I should know the answer, but reality puts the head in confusion.<br /><br />Unemployment has that kinda effect on you. The yourenotgoodenough effect.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Ineedajob.<br /><br />...<br /><br />*Grits teeth*<br /><br />I will pass the exam.<br /><br />*Gulps*<br /><br />I hope.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-2809343300895724105?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-63814890637579693272010-03-28T17:12:00.003+10:302010-04-07T04:25:12.078+09:30In this land of 'everything-can', the only time you feel unity <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">oozing</span> out of your skin is when you see flashes of light.<br /><br />No, not the ones that beckon you to the world of hereafter. The ones that come from the opposite side of the road.<br /><br />As I drive along our very expensive highways (particularly the East-West Highway), the most exciting part of the drive is when I see cars after cars flashing their lights at me from the opposite direction.<br /><br />And then I see that annoying Toyota behind me decelerate and stop tail-gating my energy-less national car, and all of a sudden, we are all driving like the typical Australian.<br /><br />And I excitedly grip my steering wheels, in anticipation of what I'll see ahead of me. Road-blocks, and policemen waving their red flags.<br /><br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">Take that!!</span>" I mutter with a sense of victory. And every other driver around me seem to be muttering the same thing. Some even punching the air at their win of the day.<br /><br />I wonder who started this practice. Where it all came from, and how did we all know this little trick in fighting the evil ones in our poorly governed country.<br /><br />And that is when I feel united with my fellow Malaysians, regardless of colour. And this little practice only to be found in Malaysia, makes me feel proud to be Malaysian. For only that one very <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">occasional</span> moment.<br /><br />To the next flash of unity.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-6381489063757969327?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-67005754420850265332010-02-12T19:32:00.000+10:302010-02-12T19:33:18.449+10:30I want to dream again.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-6700575442085026533?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-90564211095409957382010-01-10T03:50:00.008+10:302010-01-10T04:34:29.305+10:30Thought I'd write to let you know how I'm feeling about you.<br /><br />I am disappointed. I am sad. I am frustrated. I am angry.<br /><br />That we have to resort to ways like these. That we have leaders that fan the flames of racism, rather than be good examples. That my friends and I are still called '<span style="font-style: italic;">pendatang</span>' (foreigners), after so many years.<br /><br />I did <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">not</span> choose where to be born. I was born here. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Right here</span>. Why am I considered an <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">outsider</span> in a land I was born in? Where else am I supposed to go? To Australia? Where I don't even look remotely similar to the locals? Where I have to redefine my accent to be understood?<br /><br />I'm frustrated. At times, I hate you. With a passion. At times, I wish I could pack up and leave you. Why bother, really.<br /><br />I am not even remotely proud to be associated with you. I used to be. A long time ago.<br /><br />But Malaysia, you have no choice, really. I made up my mind, and I'm not changing it. I will not wait for you to acknowledge me. Or to appreciate me, before I start giving to you. Because, perhaps, you never will.<br /><br />And the newly coined phrase. 1Malaysia. That, defines <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">disgust</span>. It is an <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">utter disgust</span>!<br /><br />I can't seem to find that love I had for you. My heart cringes at the mention of your name.<br /><br />But unfortunately, I come from a generation that believes change is possible. A generation that <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">demands</span> to see change. So, too bad for you, really. I believe that things will, sooner or later, change. And I want to stay a little longer.. till I see it happen.<br /><br />They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. The cow-head protests, unfair policies, brainless remarks, church firebombings didn't kill me. So now, I can only be stronger.<br /><br />I <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">AM</span> stronger. I <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">AM</span> more determined. More than ever before.<br /><br />I can't bring myself to say, "I love you, Malaysia". Not just yet.<br /><br />But I hope, one day, this fight would be worth it.<br /><br />I hope, one day, that I will be able to say, it was worth the effort. Worth the wait. Worth the tears.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br />Another one of your <span style="font-style: italic;">pendatangs</span>.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-9056421109540995738?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-15302163778969100332009-10-19T14:17:00.002+10:302009-10-19T14:19:04.453+10:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/StvhmzIKRgI/AAAAAAAAAFE/MFx51dUGMhM/s1600-h/Change.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/StvhmzIKRgI/AAAAAAAAAFE/MFx51dUGMhM/s320/Change.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5394153035382015490" border="0" /></a><br />.. says the ticket machine at Gardens, Midvalley :)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-1530216377896910033?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-33613285397486748732009-10-15T18:20:00.004+10:302010-04-07T04:46:33.358+09:30For a long time, I've envied the people living on the greener pastures of Petaling Jaya. Even when you say that two letters "P" and "J", you say it with more air and grace then when you say.. "Cheras". And every time I say I'm from Cheras, you would know what kinda responses I get.<br /><br />"Hah? Cheras ah? Very jam wan wor that place."<br />"Cheras ah? A lot of lala-s wan right?"<br />"Cheras? WAH. SO FAR!"<br /><br />Okay. That'll be enough for now. I'd probably hurt many-a-feelings if I go on with the list. But yeah, even (apparently), girls from PJ are of a better breed than we from Cheras. And, we get very defensive over the place we were brought up in.<br /><br />Dreams.<br /><br />I think we're a generation that has lost the ability to dream.<br /><br />We are scarred by hurts not of our own. Our parents tell us it is pointless to dream. Their cynicism has rubbed off in our minds. That we dare NOT dream.<br /><br />Just like how we have absolutely NO reason to be racist. We were NOT there on May the 13th, 1969. We were not the ones hurt by the actions of people then. But we have allowed the hurts of the past be a secondary hurt in our lives today.<br /><br />Ask the person next to you - "What is your dream?" - and look at that sheepish smile you get. Or that blank face with "Huh? What dream?" - written all over it. We live as if it's out of this world to dream.<br /><br />But if we truly believe that this place - this world that is fading away - belongs to our Father, and we know His heart for His people who are still living on this side of eternity, wouldn't it be legitimate to DREAM?<br /><br />And dream Cheras.<br /><br />Last Sunday, I was convicted when I had a conversation with a very good friend.<br /><br />Things don't happen by chance, we always say. Do we see it as real in every aspect of our lives? Us Cheras-ians, being born and bred in Cheras (let's not even talk about being born in the bigger geographical area of Malaysia just yet), did not happen by chance. And we upper middle class people (come on, don't kid yourself. If you're reading this from YOUR own computer/laptop with Streamyx, you're so much more well to do than a lot of people), are comfortable where we are.<br /><br />But we are strategically placed in areas that are brimming over with needs. Economical, social, health, political (yes - political!) needs. And this is OUR chance to dream. And to do something about it.<br /><br />"Break our hearts for what breaks Yours" - will always remain an emotional statement if we do not couple it with action.<br /><br />Think globally, act locally.<br /><br />What are we doing for Cheras today?<br /><br />And for the non-Cheras-ians who cannot relate to this post.. How about a Dream ______ (insert place of stay) for you?<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-3361328539748674873?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-32200788887926744492009-10-02T02:32:00.001+09:302009-10-02T02:32:56.476+09:30I miss Adelaide.<br /><br />Heaps.<br /><br />:'(<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-3220078888792674449?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-1530461905820703232009-09-27T19:55:00.005+09:302010-04-07T04:26:05.874+09:30The very dear architect friend sent me a video, which I shall now test my technological skills and try embed a video here. Now, let's see..<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vd2YJ9Jk6-E&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vd2YJ9Jk6-E&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />Oh, there we go. Google teaches you everything these days.<br /><br />...<br /><br />I <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">love</span> the concept of a professional skill being <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">for</span> humanity.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Being back, I've been more than frustrated that the world right in front of me is <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">so </span>rich. Or perhaps, how the world in front of me <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">appears</span> to be rich.<br /><br />Okay, no surprise. It's just me being bitter about life knowing that I will never be able to afford a lifestyle so luxurious, that you do not have to think thrice about buying myself a Coach. At least, the path I want to take now will leave me with a slim chance of being able to afford much, what more a branded handbag.<br /><br />And the generic goal of life seems to be how to earn more money, and which course you take in university would pay you more, and which career path should you take to land yourself on the right rung of the corporate ladder..<br /><br />...<br /><br />But what goes unnoticed is the rest of the world that are <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">not</span></span> rich, that are barely surviving, and they who <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">really</span></span> are in <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">need </span></span>of that professional skill <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">we</span></span> have in our hands.<br /><br />And we had that chance of pursuing a level of education that they might never be able to have, if their current state of life continues to persist.<br /><br />...<br /><br />And that.. was an inspiring video. And very inspiring people who listen to the needs of the people they are serving, and are not too proud to change their ideas to suit what's needed by the people.<br /><br />...<br /><br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">Mummy, when I grow up.. I wana be like that too!</span>"<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-153046190582070323?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-66616198877965250992009-09-09T02:55:00.005+09:302009-09-09T03:25:06.256+09:30H for Hey!<br /><br />H for Home!<br /><br />Hey! I'm Home!<br /><br />...<br /><br />One of the first beautiful things I saw upon touchdown at KLIA was a pair of nurses who were in the aerotrain heading towards where we were heading. What was beautiful about them was how one of them was Malay, and the other was Indian. The hurriedly got off their seats and walked toward the wrong exit.. and upon realizing they were about to hit into a wall, they quickly turned around, giggled, and ran the opposite direction together. They were both wearing the same jacket (not part of their uniform, mind you), so cute.<br /><br />And during the flight, we were served by a very kind Malay air steward who midway through the trip smuggled 6 big packets (consisting of little individual packets inside) of yummy salted peanuts that they always give during the start of the journey. We were Chinese and Indian (or, half Indian and a mix of many other things ;)).<br /><br />I smiled when I saw two Indian families dining at Restoran Soon Tuck just outside where I live.<br /><br />And how this Malay man working for Rentokil (a company that kills household pests - no, not children, but termites and those sorts) came to Su-ling's house, and he kindly told us to be careful as we were about to go out. He said that in this festive season, there is an increase of snatch thefts around. As we left, we wished him Selamat Hari Raya, and he beamed at us.<br /><br />This afternoon, my greeting of Selamat Hari Raya got me two huge beams from this two ladies who were serving me at Bread Story. Their beam was as if this was an unusual greeting coming from one of a Chinese descent.<br /><br />I've always felt loved when a Malay friend or person greet me Gong Xi Fa Cai when I celebrate my new year. It is always doubly special when it comes from someone of a different race.<br /><br />I love how I can try to speak in Bahasa, and attempt to put on the Malay slang to my words. And how my Malay friends can add on a Chinese slang and "Ah Moi" me when I see them. And how the Indian Mamak "kai sou" (calculates the final bill) in Chinese.<br /><br />...<br /><br />It gives me a unique sense of warmth.. and pride that the colours blend so harmoniously.<br /><br />And it gives me the biggest H word that keeps me sane every time I contemplate buying a ticket to go back to Adelaide..<br /><br />Hope.<br /><br />In my despair after hearing so much negativity from friends and family about my return to this land of "no hope", I struggled to reconcile a God worthy to be praised and One who does mighty and wondrous deeds - with the current situation of the nation I am in.<br /><br />And, (this is really becoming a play of words) in another moment of despair, I was directed to a passage in Habakkuk (another H word! :)), where <span style="font-style: italic;">he</span> was complaining about the situation <span style="font-style: italic;">he</span> was in.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Habakkuk's Complaint</span> <br /><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-22734">2</sup> <span style="font-weight: bold;">How long, O LORD, must I call for help, </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">but you do not listen? </span><br /> Or cry out to you, "Violence!"but you do not save?<br /><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-22735">3</sup> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Why do you make me look at injustice? </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Why do you tolerate wrong? </span><br /> Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds.<br /><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-22736">4</sup> Therefore <span style="font-weight: bold;">the law is paralyzed, </span><span style="font-weight: bold;">and justice never prevails. </span><br /> The wicked hem in the righteous, so that justice is perverted.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">The Lord 's Answer</span><br /><sup class="versenum" id="en-NIV-22737">5</sup> <span style="font-weight: bold;">"Look at the nations and watch—</span><span style="font-weight: bold;">and be utterly amazed.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"> <span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"> <span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;">For I am going to do something in your days</span></span></span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"> that you would not believe,</span><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;"> even if you were told.<br /></span><p>...</p><p>He is doing something in these days.. not me. And He is doing something I wouldn't believe, even if I was told.<br /></p><p>Idealism is for the birds. I reckon, perhaps not. We've been <span style="font-weight: bold;">promised</span> Hope, soo much Hope for this decaying world.. that if only more of us believe enough in that Hope promised to us, share it around.. and take up our role seriously in making that Hope a reality.. I wonder how much things can and will change.</p><p>Hoodnights.<br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-6661619887796525099?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-23593065312564359312009-09-07T01:48:00.002+09:302009-09-07T01:53:06.330+09:30Where you wake up from your afternoon nap drenched in sweat. And the layer of oil on your face is enough to fry an egg.<br /><br />SOOOO HHHHOOOOOTTTTT AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!<br /><br />But other than that, it has been.. good.<br /><br />I'm back. I can't believe I'm back and 3 years has passed just like that, but I am.<br /><br />Have been eating and eating and eating.<br /><br />And have gone to Ipoh, Taiping, Penang, Singapore, JB, and Labis.<br /><br />As of now, it is still too hot to continue sitting here to type.<br /><br />I'm alive and well, and I'll be back on this page soon ;)<br /><br />Need to shower.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-2359306531256435931?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-33601851009863940942009-08-17T07:57:00.003+09:302009-08-17T08:08:43.302+09:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/SoiIWFOEhII/AAAAAAAAAE8/8icxKysTarQ/s1600-h/IMG_0593.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/SoiIWFOEhII/AAAAAAAAAE8/8icxKysTarQ/s320/IMG_0593.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370692468579009666" border="0" /></a><br />.. and Goh-ed home.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-3360185100986394094?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-38509332377112289082009-08-07T00:07:00.003+09:302009-08-07T01:02:18.166+09:30In attempting to catch up with some people before I go, I recently had the chance to chat with someone a lot senior than I am.<br /><br />In our little chat, we talked about how some circumstances were downright unfair - and unjust. Being emotional (as always), I got a little upset. What tipped the brewing emo pot over was when I heard the all familiar - "We all just accept it as it is."<br /><br />...<br /><br />A#1? Annoyance.<br /><br />Yes, annoyance, literally.<br /><br />I remember Ps Gary Rucci in one of his sermons asked the whole congregation a few questions to test our levels of annoyance. Slow drivers, bad customer service, rude people, tactless conversations, non-up-to-standard-food, or shopping centers that do not have enough parking bays just when we desperately need one - we all chuckled in agreement.<br /><br />But when it comes to matters that <span style="font-style: italic;">matter</span> - rape, murder, corruption, injustice, oppression, racism, poverty.. we are hardly as annoyed as when some noob drives at 40kmph on the right lane. Or rather,<br /><br />...<br /><br />A#2. Apathy.<br /><br />Perhaps we just. don't. care.<br /><br />And caring has become costly. Standing up for things that are right and things that matter costs. One's freedom, reputation, lifestyle can be at stake for caring.. <span style="font-style: italic;">too much</span>.<br /><br />Maybe.. we <span style="font-style: italic;">do</span> care. Just <span style="font-style: italic;">not enough</span> to do anything about things that annoy us.<br /><br />...<br /><br />A#3. Acceptance.<br /><br />I sit and wonder about what I should accept - and what I should not. Idealistic tendencies are a laughing stock in this imperfect world. But to what extent should one "just accept" imperfection as it is and not strive for the better, since well, nothing's perfect anyway?<br /><br />However, in my short-lived 22 years of life with zilch knowledge of what can or cannot be done, I know that in a process of option elimination, "I just accept it the way it is" would be the first to go.<br /><br />...<br /><br />And it ain't something that's settled by blabbering theoretically anyway. Neither do emotions help. Or a mouth that bypasses the brain most of the time.<br /><br />It's one such game of strategy. And at the core of which is.. integrity.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Break my heart for what breaks Yours</span> - will always only remain an emotional reaction if it ain't coupled with practical action.<br /><br />...<br /><br />All these thinking and getting upset makes me restless. And all the more lost at what can be done, if any at all.<br /><br />Perhaps I should do what's best for now. Sleep.<br /><br />Nighteos, world of imperfections.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-3850933237711228908?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-85450429190006257322009-07-27T15:45:00.004+09:302009-07-27T16:27:20.847+09:30Dear 20,<br /><br />Funny how I totally forgotten about that letter you wrote, until I was digging up old blog entries. Ah. Didn't know you were so emo then. Then again, in the emo department, nothing much has changed ;)<br /><br />So. I figured since I have time, I might as well reply you.<br /><br />Yup. You've officially finished your masters, and you're officially unemployed now. The ecstacy of being a graduate only lasted probably a week. After which, it's not really very fun trying to think of what you can or cannot do.<br /><br />And yeah. It's 25 days before I go now. How does it feel? Numb, I reckon. I'd really rather be emotionless, than to be sad or happy. I think crying's too energy and time consuming. We shall try to avoid the whole ordeal of tears, yes?<br /><br />When you were you, you've just left and you were still trying to fit into everything there. Thanks for being determined not to look back, and for trying to fully be here in Adelaide and to enjoy the moments. It's been a year and a half since I've gone home now.. And home feels.. further than what it used to be.<br /><br />How were the last 2 years? It was way more than awesome. Way more. Since you wrote that letter to me, you've been a part of an exciting committee in OCF.. of which you learnt heaps. Not just from the things you were required to do, but from people who were running the race fervently as well.<br /><br />And after that, another significant moment was when you jumped on board a missions trip that took you and 3.5 really awesome and fun people over 3 countries in 3 weeks! That was an unbelievable trip away. The way we dragged ourselves out of bed every morning after horribly late nights, the way we did last minute preparations for the kids, the naughty naughty kids we handled (and tried to strangle).. remain a very special memory up till today.<br /><br />But what's more exciting to you now is what a professor - Dr. Angelita Martini would teach you in your final semester at uni.. The best time before you prepare your mind to go back. And this was what she said - <span style="font-style: italic;">change within a country or within a system cannot happen apolitically</span>.<br /><br />And that will be one thought that will get you stuck in confusion.<br /><br />What are my plans now? I don't have any.<br /><br />Despite the excitement over brain injury, it's gona be hard to get a job because of silly systems that do not recognize people who are any 'lower' than medical doctors. You have to do a PhD, eventually. Or so it is what they require.<br /><br />What else am I going to do? No, I do not have the slightest clue.<br /><br />You need connections for a job, they say. But.. where do I start finding connections from? In which field?<br /><br />What do you really WANT to do?<br /><br />Some days I think I just completed the wrong course. And some others.. I know that all that couldn't have been a mistake.<br /><br />Perhaps I'll just have to wait and see how the plan would unfold.<br /><br />Guy sector. It's still a no-go. But, at this point in time, that's the least of all the concerns I have.<br /><br />At this point, you hate Adelaide no more. You love it to bits. You love the people it came with more than ever. And these are friends who have been there in the lowest of times, and people who have accepted you - but yet challenged you to grow.<br /><br />It's time now. Time to get up and get going. About time to return. But it gets more and more disappointing each day.. as you no longer read only about how money is being irresponsibly spent by the authorities. Things have evolved to involve people dying as a result of the political game.<br /><br />...<br /><br />It's awfully hard now. But one thing I can answer you.. Yes, the journey was worth it. The learning was worth it. The crying was worth it. The laughing was worth it.<br /><br />The weather forecast of the next season looks like it's still going to be hard, but you know deep down inside there's a little shoot of excitement waiting to sprout. Nurture it, let it sprout. Hopefully it'll bear fruit soon. You've taught me that God is faithful, and He will continue to be.<br /><br />And knowing that God and His plans are worth following, it won't be long till the sun comes up again. And, it'll be yet another journey that's worthwhile :)<br /><br />Love,<br />22.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-8545042919000625732?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-18609197400560161042009-07-07T13:50:00.001+09:302009-07-07T13:50:44.642+09:30Hi Esther,<br /><br />Well, waddya know? It's me again. Remember me? I'm you, two years ago.<br /><br />Ah. Remember now? Cool.<br /><br />So. How's it like to have finished Masters? You met the guy of your dreams yet? What are your plans now? Are you going to head back to Malaysia soon? How does it feel? Was it great? Ah. I wish you could tell me all about it.<br /><br />What? How am I feeling now? Ah. I don't know.<br /><br />It's probably frustration. Hey, guess what? It's exactly a year since we left for Adelaide, well, 3 years for you. But exactly one for me. Last year, or 3 years ago at this time, we were having Magill BBQ Chickens with chips, leftover from lunch. Remember? :) How fast it all seems, huh?<br /><br />Oh. You remember AaronKhoo? Yeah. He's back in Malaysia for good now. My only comrade from the gang back in HELP. It sucks having to come home now. It's the middle of winter now, and home has taken a whole new definition. Home, is but 4 walls. Literally. I miss human company. No, no. Not just smiley-dileys and having to communicate via Japanese-English electronic dictionary devices. And having to stand up to bossy Salmons, and appear not to be intimidated. Real human communication. Where I can rant about the injustice of the world, and somebody could understand. Leonore's real cold now, you know? How did you pull through?<br /><br />And oh. Is Masters fun? Are you regretting? Sigh. I hope you're not. I won't know how to pull through if you are. Oh, oh! Remember the cool way of how we got the funding to do Masters? Yeah. I still can't believe it. So much for being so determined to stay in Adelaide for one and a half year max, huh? 3 years! Double what we were thinking about.<br /><br />Well, remember how Pa got a call from his ex-boss? Yah. When his boss just decided to give him the Toyota Harrier. At no cost at all? Yeah, cool huh? And that Harrier costs at market value exactly how much we will spend in 2 years! Yah. I was shocked to hear that too. And it was right after the day we got the offer letter from Flinders stating how much the fees would cost! Phew!<br /><br />So, who do you think you are, at 22? Remember how we were asking who we are - at 19? It's been a year now. Haha. I just turned 20 :) Yeah. That was one of the super emo moments, huh. Gosh, how we actually cried so much that night! And the night before! Haha. Well, it was our first year celebrating a birthday overseas. But remember the crazy people who came over at 1 am in the morning so we wouldn't be expecting anything? Well, that was definitely something to remember :) And the day we spent at the beach! With Him, and her thereafter. Way cool, huh?<br /><br />And oh. About how's Mama and KongKong doing now? Are they still healthy? What about AhMa and KongKong? They cool? Please tell me they are alright. The biggest fear right now is if I will not be able to see or talk to them for the last time before they leave. I pray they are still alright when you're reading this.<br /><br />Oh yeah. How's Eunice doing now? I miss her terribly now. I just heard she has been driving around in the MyVi. All the way to OneUtama! It has only been a year, and I've missed out on one of her most important moments of growing up. I'm beginning to wonder if coming to Adelaide was worthwhile. What's she studying now? She going strong in her dreams of doing Medicine? Please tell her I desperately want to be with her right now, to just be sisters.<br /><br />How you feeling about Adelaide right now? Me? At this moment in time, I hate it. I hate how it is robbing me of so many things. And how the things that it is offering me comes with a risk. A risk that I am so afraid of taking. But if I don't take, I'll never experience life to its fullest right here, right now.<br /><br />How are the YPF-ers doing? I just saw blog posts and photos of church camp that just passed. It hurt so much. I wished I could be there. To be part of what I used to call my family. To be part of sabo-s, and hot Maggi cup noodles, and late night chats. Are you still in touch with them? I suck so badly at long distance communication that I feel so out of place. It sucks to feel like you no longer belong there. Because paths separated inevitably.<br /><br />I want to be back in familiarity. I want to know what's going on. If only you could tell me all that will take place in the next 2 years, then probably I wouldn't feel so horrible right now. I want to go home. So badly. I am tired from trying to keep up with two places at once.<br /><br />I want to be back in Malaysia with Pa, Mummy, Eunice, boy, and boo. With friends whom I've grown up with. I want to know what's happening with them back there. But I want to find a grip here as well. I want to enjoy this journey as well.<br /><br />But I feel I'm neither here nor there. It's so exasperating. I thought I'd quickly finish my year and a half in Adelaide, and return to Malaysia to rejoin those who are back home.<br /><br />Things have taken a turn. For worse or for better? I guess that depends on what I want to make out of it.<br /><br />2 years. Please tell me what the next two years hold for me. Because I'm tired. I'm worn out. It's scary. I'm so, so afraid. What if it's the wrong course? What if I can't fit back into the Malaysian community when I'm home? What if I don't fit here in Adelaide? What if I fit right in here in Adelaide?<br /><br />What if.<br /><br />Tell me.<br /><br />I hope this letter finds you well. And happy. And that the journey was great. The risks taken were worth it. I hope it finds you loving with all your heart. Living with all your heart.<br /><br />Love,<br />20.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-1860919740056016104?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-6728268026866678042009-06-17T14:34:00.002+09:302009-06-17T14:35:22.775+09:30<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/Sjh5dL7fHwI/AAAAAAAAAEc/ztm3kCCUrkA/s1600-h/Panda+Sleep.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348158099827924738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/Sjh5dL7fHwI/AAAAAAAAAEc/ztm3kCCUrkA/s320/Panda+Sleep.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-672826802686667804?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-40733505113761097202009-06-16T05:24:00.002+09:302009-06-16T06:07:53.259+09:30<div style="text-align: center;">Tis an awesome song..<br /><br />..twas an awesome camp.. and awesome Sarawakian MTV friends! :)<br /><br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-d09e0cfde0e3eb3b" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v10.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dd09e0cfde0e3eb3b%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330374851%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6C9CEC202FB155049A188F7BC380F0E0C0659E83.89ECE141A2F48F40F70F17BDDF0CA615D23E256%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dd09e0cfde0e3eb3b%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D4octW5gaKjqLfUdXxhHn06iFPrs&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v10.nonxt1.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Dd09e0cfde0e3eb3b%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330374851%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D6C9CEC202FB155049A188F7BC380F0E0C0659E83.89ECE141A2F48F40F70F17BDDF0CA615D23E256%26key%3Dck1&iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Dd09e0cfde0e3eb3b%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3D4octW5gaKjqLfUdXxhHn06iFPrs&autoplay=0&ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /></object></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-4073350511376109720?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-17673321463388809822009-06-14T12:34:00.002+09:302009-06-14T12:39:05.282+09:30Beneath the skin runs something that is <span style="font-style: italic;">indistinguishable by colour</span>. We've all got <span style="font-style: italic;">blood</span> running in us, and we're <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">all</span> people</span>.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-1767332146338880982?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-17119749379772085802009-06-11T11:17:00.003+09:302009-06-12T08:15:40.386+09:30Sat in bed under the covers today. Not wanting to get out.<br /><br />It's like living in a fridge perpetually right now. Too cold to do <span style="font-style: italic;">anythinggggggggg.</span><br /><br />Sat in bed with a steaming cup of coffee, and some nuts. And read.<br /><br />Have plodded through Judges, Ruth, Samuels and 1 Kings thus far. Reading about the leaders of Israel/Judah and seeing what they were like. This time, with a hidden agenda to find out what good leadership is really all about.<br /><br />The more I plod through the books, the more depressed and afraid I get. So much of what I read reflects and resonates deep within me.<br /><br />The bad parts, I mean.<br /><br />...<br /><br />I stand with Saul when he was impatient about going into battle, and taking sacrifices into his own hands.. rather than waiting for God's timing.<br /><br />I stand with Saul when he made rash oaths causing his people to hunger.<br /><br />I stand with Saul when he was insecure about somebody else being better than him.<br /><br />I stand with Saul when he did what <span style="font-style: italic;">he</span> thought was pleasing, not what he was told to do.<br /><br />And whoa. As if it gets better.<br /><br />...<br /><br />David? I stand with his pride. And how he numbered his army to feel good about himself.<br /><br />I stand with his insecurities of needing to hide the wrongs he has consciously done.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Asa did well..<br /><br />.. but not good enough.<br /><br />I stand with Asa's lack of trust in the God that would bring him the victory he needed. I stand with him being allies with people, rather than his God.<br /><br />...<br /><br />I stand.. I stand.. I stand..<br /><br />...<br /><br />And I sat under my covers, unwilling to get out of bed.<br /><br />Too much Wrongs to commit, and not much courage to do the Rights.<br /><br />And the gravest of all sins (if sin could be grave-tized), is how they all had other gods in their lives - <span style="font-style: italic;">doing much evil in the eyes of the Lord. </span><br /><br />How can anyone live on this earth?!<br /><br />...<br /><br />I'm glad my salvation doesn't depend on my love for Him.<br /><br />And I'm glad He loves me.. <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">that</span> much.<br /><br />...<br /><br />And I walked out from beneath my covers. Time to start the day!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-1711974937977208580?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-1139828016860296922009-06-10T15:12:00.006+09:302009-06-12T08:50:41.320+09:30I've had the priviledge of having my own office in uni, because of a passing conversation with the course coordinator talking about how far I live from uni (well, it's about 40 bus stops away - an hour and a half by bus that is non-express). And they decided to give me an office complete with a computer, unlimited internet access, and a printer so I can do my work whilst I am in uni! :)<br /><br />Today I went earlier to return the keys to the office.. because.. I'm finishing uni in 5 days!!! :D<br /><br />Cleared my Oscar mug, packet of coffee, ginger biscuits, KohKae peanuts, scrap paper.. and contemplated stuffing a whole stack of unused A4 paper in my bag. But then I thought, <span style="font-style: italic;">'Nahhhh.. I shouldn't be such a cheapskate..</span>'.<br /><br />So off I went to see Ottaline and passed her my keys and said a very cheery "<span style="font-style: italic;">Goodbye!</span>".<br /><br />She asked if I finished, and she was surprised that I have. I smiled widely and said "<span style="font-style: italic;">Yes! I'm done next Monday!</span>". And walked (skipped) out of Sturt campus.<br /><br />10 minutes later, Ottaline called me on my mobile. <span style="font-style: italic;">Urgent matters.</span><br /><br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">Hi Esther, I realized that.. you actually haven't.. finished. There's something wrong with your enrolment. Come see me as soon as you can."</span><br /><br />...<br /><br />Jaw dropped.<br /><br />Heart stopped.<br /><br />Eyes flopped.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Apparently, I'm 3 credits short of graduating.<br /><br />Aaaahhh. I knew it would happen! After I was so cautious about picking my subjects at the beginning of my term - not wanting to do anything I wasn't interested in.<br /><br />3 credits short! Means I might have to stay for another semester to make up for the 3 credits!<br /><br />Raced off to see Ottaline once I was done with lectures, and she sat me down calmly.<br /><br />I was going to pounce on her in anticipation of a solution to get me out of the situation.<br /><br />She proceeded to ask if I've got any work experience in the area.<br /><br />Skipped through the many thoughts in the brain and finally remembered I did work with two boys who had autism for a year and a half.<br /><br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">Done!</span>" Ottaline said. "<span style="font-style: italic;">We'll give you credits for that. Because your student visa will expire, wouldn't it? It doesn't have to go through any other authorities, just drop us an email about what you've done, and we'll approve it as 3 credit hours.</span>"<br /><br />...<br /><br />Aaahhh. What a <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">scare</span>! To think that I will have to slog through another semester of hardwork when I'm <span style="font-weight: bold;">THIS</span> close to the finish line!<br /><br />As I was driving home.. it linked!<br /><br />I remember praying for a job in the area of disabilities, so I can gain much needed work experience in the area whilst studying the theories. And I remember God providing two very lovely families which I worked with for a year and a half.<br /><br />And the very opportunity to work in BIRCH for 2 months would add weight to my very much needed 3 credit hours.<br /><br />None of which I had to pay for.<br /><br />Without which, I'd have to stay back for another term.<br /><br />And I'm humbled at how He can weave such details together. Details of what I like doing, what I want to do, what I needed to have, and what would happen 2 years down the road..<br /><br />It's scare-y how details is such a God-thing.<br /><br />Especially when I've been such a frantic about finishing uni and not knowing what kinda job I'll land myself into. That He'd have to catch my attention in this way.<br /><br />What a <span style="font-style: italic;">not-so-gentle </span>reminder that if He provided that very <span style="font-style: italic;">specific</span> job I needed to get past this 3-unit ordeal, He'll be able to do so for the next step of my journey.<br /><br />Thanks, You. I'm awed. Again.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-113982801686029692?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-12604946323312987922009-06-07T15:55:00.007+09:302009-06-07T16:36:30.488+09:30As <span style="font-style: italic;">the </span>day draws nearer, I get more and more sensitive about things.<br /><br />Sometimes even the thought of it pricks deep. And I have to consciously put it away in the "<span style="font-style: italic;">Think about it later, live in the moment</span>" box.<br /><br />It's been playing on my mind a lot, because it <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> a big thing.<br /><br />And there is a stark <span style="font-style: italic;">difference </span>between having people <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">cheer you on</span>..<br /><br />.. and having people <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">walk you through</span> this journey.<br /><br />I hate the thought of how life paths that once converged, will now separate.<br /><br />I <span style="font-style: italic;">yearn</span> for certainty. I <span style="font-style: italic;">yearn</span> for continuity.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Perhaps passion <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> a <span style="font-style: italic;">lonely</span> thing.<br /><br />...<br /><br />I know I've got the Hebrews 12 cloud cheering me on. People who've been there and finished the race..<br /><br />.. and I'm so blessed to have people around me cheering me on.<br /><br />...<br /><br />But yet I know I have to face this on my own..<br /><br />.. and perhaps this is a much needed phase of life.<br /><br />Walk with me..Walk me through. You're the only One who will.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-1260494632331298792?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-3476388304427854182009-06-05T02:57:00.002+09:302009-06-05T02:58:52.650+09:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/SigEC8A_BSI/AAAAAAAAAEU/7xrZsb4rEWU/s1600-h/Eun+and+El+2y.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/SigEC8A_BSI/AAAAAAAAAEU/7xrZsb4rEWU/s320/Eun+and+El+2y.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343525406391600418" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/SigECuGxQGI/AAAAAAAAAEM/18UTjOSVP5A/s1600-h/Eun+and+Ely+3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/SigECuGxQGI/AAAAAAAAAEM/18UTjOSVP5A/s320/Eun+and+Ely+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343525402657767522" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/SigECbYMndI/AAAAAAAAAEE/jkzBWvUS0u4/s1600-h/Eun+and+Ely.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/SigECbYMndI/AAAAAAAAAEE/jkzBWvUS0u4/s320/Eun+and+Ely.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343525397630590418" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">... ARE COMING! :)<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">And WE, are Goh-ing on holidayyyy! :)<br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-347638830442785418?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-25355854367250333952009-06-03T11:25:00.004+09:302009-06-03T12:10:45.909+09:30Woot. Never thought I'd actually post up quotations. This gave me such a boost in energy when doing my readings for the next paper. Felt like throwing my hands in the air and roaring with enthusiasm.<br /><br />Roooaaarrrrrrrrr!<br /><br />"... a corporatist society has structured itself to eliminate citizen participation in public affairs. People are encouraged to mind their own business and not be critical, which is dangerous because '<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Criticism</span> is perhaps the <span style="font-weight: bold;">citizen's primary weapon in the exercise of her legitimacy</span>. That is why, in this corporatist society, conformism, loyalty, and silence are so admired and rewarded; why criticism is so punished or marginalised</span>'. Public health activity at all levels often involves <span style="font-weight: bold;">cirticising the status quo and arguing for change</span>, which threatens established interests ... Saul concludes, '<span style="font-style: italic;">A citizen-based democracy os built upon participation, which is the very expression of permanent discomfort</span>' (Saul, 1997, p. 195; in Baum, 1998).<br /><br />I'm morphing into a geek. But I'm loving the process. Love public health. Love it! :)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-2535585436725033395?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-34038819864368061282009-06-02T18:10:00.005+09:302009-06-02T18:13:06.264+09:30Assignments so hard, can die.<br /><br />Weather so cold, can die.<br /><br />Stomach so hungry, can die.<br /><br />2 months and 19 days left! Die lahhh.<br /><br />Aiyoyooooo.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-3403881986436806128?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-52782061688875379442009-05-22T16:56:00.011+09:302009-05-25T12:30:39.219+09:30.. Basil.<br /><br />Today is one day I feel I miss the Basils heaps.<br /><br />Basils, you wonder?<br /><br />It came about on one cold.. autumn's (or was it summer) night. We were having homemade pizza.. with heaps, of basil. Too much, really..<br /><br />And we had to decide on a group name. Since we need an identity before travelling 20000 miles away to North Asia.<br /><br />And because we were basil infused that night, under the intoxication of the basil leaves, we named ourselves Too Much Basil, in short.. TMB.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Basils at Adelaide Airport.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZXF5myixI/AAAAAAAAACU/wL3HSiKMEf4/s1600-h/Basil+%2810%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZXF5myixI/AAAAAAAAACU/wL3HSiKMEf4/s320/Basil+%2810%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338550167168781074" border="0" /></a><br />Basils at Singapore Airport.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZXF9i3JWI/AAAAAAAAACc/wyOy1zbsKYo/s1600-h/Basil+%2846%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZXF9i3JWI/AAAAAAAAACc/wyOy1zbsKYo/s320/Basil+%2846%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338550168226047330" border="0" /></a><br />Basils in Thailand!<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZbZaBQggI/AAAAAAAAACs/Zmf8w6J8qtU/s1600-h/Basil+%28370%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZbZaBQggI/AAAAAAAAACs/Zmf8w6J8qtU/s320/Basil+%28370%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338554900333756930" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Basils in Thailand with best Pad Thai that beat Rundle Spices flat!<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZbY8ViCTI/AAAAAAAAACk/Ex2lmWsm2Io/s1600-h/Basil+%28305%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZbY8ViCTI/AAAAAAAAACk/Ex2lmWsm2Io/s320/Basil+%28305%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338554892365728050" border="0" /></a><br />Basils in woods in some secluded part of the world. After eating a lot of chilli.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZbZ2Ki0FI/AAAAAAAAAC0/PNRGFP2R1aU/s1600-h/Basil+%28705%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZbZ2Ki0FI/AAAAAAAAAC0/PNRGFP2R1aU/s320/Basil+%28705%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338554907888898130" border="0" /></a><br />Basils at English Camp 1.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZdkK7CL2I/AAAAAAAAADM/eDCVHrpskVM/s1600-h/Basil+%281173%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZdkK7CL2I/AAAAAAAAADM/eDCVHrpskVM/s320/Basil+%281173%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338557284282937186" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Basils with kids from English Camp 2.<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZdj_ZdnNI/AAAAAAAAADE/cJVCxn3XemE/s1600-h/Basil+%282108%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZdj_ZdnNI/AAAAAAAAADE/cJVCxn3XemE/s320/Basil+%282108%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338557281189338322" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Basils at local market.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZbaecq8eI/AAAAAAAAAC8/GmAJr8iSG84/s1600-h/Basil+%281473%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZbaecq8eI/AAAAAAAAAC8/GmAJr8iSG84/s320/Basil+%281473%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338554918702346722" border="0" /></a><br />Basil Heroes.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZdkPyCLRI/AAAAAAAAADU/QNCxAAovcYE/s1600-h/Basil+Heros.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 223px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZdkPyCLRI/AAAAAAAAADU/QNCxAAovcYE/s320/Basil+Heros.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338557285587365138" border="0" /></a><br />And Basil #4.5, Raisin Mearty Samson :)<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZfQ1DYczI/AAAAAAAAADk/fYv2_r4i2XI/s1600-h/Basil+%28138%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZfQ1DYczI/AAAAAAAAADk/fYv2_r4i2XI/s320/Basil+%28138%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338559151018111794" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZfQkCsuAI/AAAAAAAAADc/aBdfXcYP0dE/s1600-h/Basil+%28137%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZfQkCsuAI/AAAAAAAAADc/aBdfXcYP0dE/s320/Basil+%28137%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338559146451843074" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZfRkj9mTI/AAAAAAAAAD0/wwmvYdpy010/s1600-h/Basil+%28140%29.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_wrhvdRosYKA/ShZfRkj9mTI/AAAAAAAAAD0/wwmvYdpy010/s320/Basil+%28140%29.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5338559163771230514" border="0" /></a>For random's and old times' sake.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-5278206168887537944?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-56393017943310720862009-05-22T15:47:00.004+09:302009-05-22T16:35:47.106+09:30For the sake of not having boring titles like.. Change. Or Hope, you insert a title of your own ;)<br /><br />We were chatting about change last night. About how very dear people are leaving (or are thinking of leaving). Some of which I haven't heard about. Karen's going to Port Lincoln, Jez to Perth, Yih Ling with thoughts of Brisbane as the next stop.. and Sam, I hear he's got thoughts to change states too.<br /><br />And for the bleak moment in life, we looked sullenly at each other. That reality of how things never stay the same pinched us a little.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Today I <span style="font-style: italic;">celebrate </span>change. I <span style="font-style: italic;">anticipate</span> change. And if change doesn't happen, it'd be disastrous.<br /><br />As much as I resist change - knowing that people don't stay the same, friendships don't remain.. even favourite places cannot withstand the forces of change.. I'm excited when I think about what change means and what it has brought us thus far.<br /><br />Yeah, change means that today, we can't walk out alone on our own without fearing rapists and snatch thiefs.<br /><br />Change means that we're studying in Bahasa Melayu today, rather than the highly sung about English language in schools.<br /><br />Change means that we have to spend RM 4.00 on a bowl of noodles now, instead of RM 0.10 in our grandparents' time.<br /><br />Change means you actually<span style="font-style: italic;"> need</span> at the very least, a Bachelors degree before you can land yourself a job.<br /><br />Change brings people to say.. <span style="font-style: italic;">"Gone, were the good ol' days"</span>.<br /><br />...<br /><br />But change also means that we have abolished slavery.<br /><br />Change also means that we've got better technology to tackle diseases.<br /><br />Change also means that more and more people are able to cross borders to learn from one another.<br /><br />Chamge also means that I don't have to marry a man I have never met before! WOOHOO! :)<br /><br />And more importantly, <span style="font-style: italic;">change</span> and the <span style="font-style: italic;">eventuality of change</span> means we <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">do not</span> have to accept the injustice and oppression that is happening all around us.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Change being the only constant thing in this world means that there is a current already running through the existing things of life.. and our role within change? Is to steer it in the right direction.<br /><br />Change means we are allowed to imagine equality - without fearing we'd be labeled idealistic.<br /><br />Change means we are allowed to imagine justice dancing in our streets.<br /><br />Change means we are allowed to imagine a <span style="font-style: italic;">better</span> future.<br /><br />Change means we are allowed to <span style="font-style: italic;">hope</span>..<br /><br />.. and <span style="font-style: italic;">hopefully</span>, change will bring us to say.. "<span style="font-style: italic;">Gone, are the days when injustice and oppression ruled</span>".<br /><br />Because situations tomorrow will be different from today's. Because if change could take a turn for the worse, it can definitely take a change for the better.<br /><br />Change has, is, and will take place. It's now a matter of us steering it in the right direction.<br /><br />I want to ride on that wing of change, and hope to see it turn things around for the better.<br /><br />Till tomorrow, when change happens.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-5639301794331072086?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-40022188091863483032009-05-08T12:45:00.008+09:302009-05-11T15:15:52.581+09:30The fingers itch to type again.<br /><br />Dad will freak out if he does check out this blog. Mum's friend's daughter was interrogated by the police for seditious writings on her blog. But well, we're not going there today. (<span style="font-style: italic;">But hey, since when have we become so afraid of saying what we really think, hey?</span>)<br /><br />Yesterday was.. I don't even have the right adjective to describe it. I sat in front of my laptop the whole day, no, not doing my assignment as I am supposed to.. but waiting for <a href="http://anilnetto.com/democracy/live-7-may-in-ipoh/">minute-updates</a> of what is happening in Perak. Even signed up for <a href="https://twitter.com/ezztherr">Twitter</a> just to receive the <a href="http://www.themalaysianinsider.com/index.php">MalaysianInsider</a> updates. It was so hard to contain all the emotions within me.. with no one to turn to or scream at. The dear <a href="http://mindyoon.blogspot.com/">friend</a> in Ipoh can only giggle at what I was frustrated at. Ish you ;)<br /><br />Having been recently making the conscious effort to catch up on politics in Malaysia, I've been spending hours (literally) in the mornings reading up on what's happening in Malaysia. <span style="font-style: italic;">Maklumlah.. dah nak balik kampung, kan</span>?<br /><br />If you do catch up on Malaysian news, you know that after reading it, you will feel worse off than before. <span style="font-style: italic;">Guaranteed</span>.<br /><br />To watch in action leaders fighting physically over what was meant to be (or what could turn out to be) a peaceful discussion really made me think. And made something in me <span style="font-style: italic;">tick</span>.<br /><br />The hours of morning news that I read is then countered by reading what happens in biblical times.. and learning about <span style="font-style: italic;">their</span> political system.<br /><br />Hey, it's valid, okay? Joseph was the Prime Minister, Samson and Samuel were judges, Saul, David, and Solomon were kings, and Esther was well.. the Queen :) Even the prophets were involved in politics - by being the kings' conscience.<br /><br />And it has been an eye opener thus far.<br /><br />It has been encouraging, knowing that a major part of the Old Testament was about politics, in today's terms. And to know that God when He said He's the King of kings and the Lord of lords - <span style="font-style: italic;">meant</span> what He said.<br /><br />But to see how in being a leader, their ups were all related to one common thing: God's position in their lives..<br /><br />And their downs were also related to similar things: the craving for power, the influence of bad-unedifying relationships, and greed for more.<br /><br />And I cringed at the thought that I too am faced by the same things the kings faced that brought them down.<br /><br />I wonder what I will be able to do when I get back. And where to start this looonnnnggggg journey.<br /><br />Ps. Jon on Sunday said this..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">It's not our place to add the </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">super</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> and the</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> extra</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> to the </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">natural</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"> and the </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">ordinary</span><span style="font-weight: bold;">. </span><br /><br />I cannot agree more. We're called to be who we are. The <span style="font-weight: bold;">natural</span>, and the <span style="font-weight: bold;">ordinary</span>.<br /><br />And when we pair up with the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Super</span> and the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Extra</span> from up above, that's when things start to happen :)<br /><br />May 7, 2009. How it all turned Black. I'll remember that day. And I'll pass it on.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-4002218809186348303?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-81765265746496226132009-05-06T11:45:00.003+09:302009-05-06T12:14:33.007+09:30Turns <a href="http://harismibrahim.wordpress.com/2009/05/05/may-7th-1blackmalaysia-democracy-first-elections-now/">Black</a> tomorrow.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-8176526574649622613?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-16123648664170078872009-04-30T11:18:00.000+09:302009-04-30T16:03:30.458+09:30Read <a href="http://ezztherr.xanga.com/626617568/bersih/">this</a> again.. And I was reminded about my oblivion of all that is happening in the country I have called home all these years..<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Malaysia is home. It is ideal. Because I have yet to see her ugly side. I have yet to experience the depths of disgust at corruption issues, racism, unfair elections, and the like.</span><br /><br />That post was written on November 12, 2007. It's the 30th of April today. A year and a half after what I wrote then.<br /><br />And today, I experience and have been experiencing deeply that <span style="font-style: italic;">depth of disgust at corruption issues, racism, unfair elections.. and the like</span>. And this is what I <span style="font-style: italic;">read</span> about in non-for-government <a href="http://www.themalaysianinsider.com/index.php">newspapers</a> and sociopolitic <a href="http://mt.m2day.org/2008/">blogs</a>. I'm <span style="font-style: italic;">not even there </span>yet.<br /><br />...<br /><br />I have been asking the million dollar question, undoubtedly..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Where do YOU want me to go, God? </span><br /><br />And the silence was deafening.<br /><br />It's so much easier if HE tells me where HE wants me to go, so then I don't have to decide on my own, and if at all anything goes wrong.. He's to be responsible.<br /><br />Okay.. I have to be responsible for my own choices, but you get my drift?<br /><br />But no. No audible voice. No writings in the sky. No slight nudge even.<br /><br />The <span style="font-style: italic;">only </span>thing I learn and have been learning about is His heart and His purpose for creation.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Redemption. </span><br /><br />It's such a Christian-y word that when people read it, they cringe at what's gona come next. Surely it's another preachy post again.<br /><br />Perhaps it is.<br /><br />But I have learnt that <span style="font-style: italic;">redemption has more to offer </span>than that. My God isn't interested only in people becoming Christians just for the sake of it.<br /><br />He's interested in seeing the <span style="font-weight: bold;">hungry fed, the naked clothed, the homeless provided with shelter, the chains of injustice broken, and the oppressed set free</span> (Isaiah 58).<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">THAT</span> is<span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> Redemption</span>. It's not just about becoming Christians and becoming"<span style="font-style: italic;">holy</span>".<br /><br />Trusting that God made this world, and aches for it to return to the way it is meant to be puts things into perspective.<br /><br />Yes, this world <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> bad. Which country<span style="font-style: italic;"> isn't</span> bad?<br /><br />But there <span style="font-style: italic;">is</span> an ultimate hope - that He is doing something about the state of bad-ness this world is in.<br /><br />And I want to be a part of that.<br /><br />Malaysia has a looooong way to go in seeing the <span style="font-weight: bold;">hungry fed, the naked clothed, the homeless provided with shelter, the chains of injustice broken, and the oppressed set free.</span><br /><br />I have learnt that it is really not about being self-centered and finding out what <span style="font-style: italic;">He </span>wants for <span style="font-style: italic;">Me</span>. Surely, there is a place for that.<br /><br />But it really is about finding out what He wants done, and what His purpose is for His people. And from there, I find mine.<br /><br />And thus, I have decided to come <span style="font-style: italic;">home</span>.<br /><br />And the definition of <span style="font-style: italic;">home</span> is another matter altogether. After all, I am but a pilgrim on this earth, no?<br /><br />...<br /><br />Having said all of that, I <span style="font-style: italic;">AM</span> worried. I <span style="font-style: italic;">AM</span> scared stiff. I <span style="font-style: italic;">FEAR</span> regret. I cry at the thought of going home. I wonder what life would be like if I were to continue on in Australia.<br /><br />But I <span style="font-style: italic;">AM</span> excited. I <span style="font-style: italic;">KNOW</span> He hasn't given up on my country. And there are plenty of people running for change. I am but one of many.<br /><br />Hopefully when I'm 89, I'd live to say that this decision is worth it.<br /><br />Till the 22nd of August..<br /><br />P.S. It's the 30th of April today, and it's a huge Happy Birthday to Basil Jez! You've been a totally awesome friend, and I'm glad my journey here in Adelaide has intertwined with your journey. Looking forward to more years ahead, back <span style="font-style: italic;">home</span> probably? ;)<br /><br />And to my anointed friend back home, happy birthday to you too! :)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-1612364866417007887?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-70676162764291192162009-04-25T23:55:00.000+09:302009-04-26T00:13:01.416+09:30Yesterday was attempt no. 1 at booking my one-way flight ticket back to Bolehland.<br /><br />Upon reaching the payment page on the website, I was too emotional to continue the process. I was sobbing like a <span style="font-style: italic;">beruk</span>, apparently. So, the red X was the best option at that time.<br /><br />Tonight is attempt no. 2 at booking the same flight ticket back home. Because MAS is going low on their fares now. Which ends at 12am. Have to maintain cheapskate identity! Heh.<br /><br />And.. I'm going (coming) home.<br /><br />I am.<br /><br />On the 22nd of August, 2009.<br /><br />...<br /><br />...<br /><br />...<br /><br />I don't even know what next to say now. It feels..<br /><br />.. I can't describe it. Crying like a <span style="font-style: italic;">beruk</span> may give you a hint as to how I feel about going home.<br /><br />We'll see come the 22nd of August.<br /><br />We'll see.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-7067616276429119216?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-49043834872052249192009-04-23T20:53:00.000+09:302009-04-23T21:16:21.017+09:30..is dying. Of boredom.<br /><br />Sanguines are not made to stay at home..<br /><br />..ALONE.<br /><br />*<span style="font-style: italic;">weeps</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">uncontrollably</span>*<br /><br />And we are not made to do assignmentS..<br /><br />*<span style="font-style: italic;">stabs self repeatedly</span>*<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-4904383487205224919?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-83902775899192751122009-04-17T13:49:00.000+09:302009-04-17T14:33:12.912+09:30I remember being in the car, driving home from Mama's house one night.. and I cleverly asked my two kid siblings (at that time)..<br /><br />Me:<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>You know how to spell 'intelligence' or not? Huh?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></span>Kid siblings: <span style="font-style: italic;">Er.. er.. *gibberish attempts to spell the very-hard-word*<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></span></span></span> Me: <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Haha. Like that also dunno.. I-N-T-E-L-L-I-G-E-N-C-E lah.<br /><br /></span></span></span></span></span>Woot. And that was attempt no. 1094833284861 to show off<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span>that I was smarter than them.<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />--<br /><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>And then came the teenage years where.. well, teenagers.. just know.. <span style="font-style: italic;">everything..</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>You just don't understand how I feel! *wails in tears and stomps off to my room*<br /><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Heh. As if they really didn't. <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span>Now, those were the days when parents were the uncoolest<span style="font-style: italic;"> <span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span>things on earth. Because they either:<br /><ol><li>Didn't wear the right clothes.</li><li>Didn't drive the right coloured cars - my dad drove a bright red Volvo, and my mum, a pale blue Proton.. Don't know where to hide face..</li><li>Didn't say the right things - like.. <span style="font-style: italic;">"Eh boy, what is your number? I ask my daughter she dowan to give me.."</span></li><li>They still wanted to hold your hand in supermarkets!!<br /></li><li>Well.. 'nuff said ;)<span style="font-style: italic;"></span></li></ol>--<br /><br />And now.<br /><br />In university you spend 3 years on a particular topic. Some that make you laugh whenyou first hear about it. Like for example.. Geology.<br /><br />...<br /><br />Kid: <span style="font-style: italic;">Mummy, when I grow up.. I wana become a geologist.</span><br /><br />Mum: <span style="font-style: italic;">Oh, alright. What does a geologist do, son?</span><br /><br />Kid: <span style="font-style: italic;">They study rocks! :)</span><br /><br />Mum: <span style="font-style: italic;">*death stare* NNOOOO-OO-Ooo-oo *(echoes follow suit)*</span><br /><br />...<br /><br />Heh. And by the way, did you know some universities offer courses on Facebook? Woot. How many of us will ace that, I wonder.<br /><br />The past couple of years have been a journey of learning how to say "I don't know". And sometimes, that just does not click with the ego factor.<br /><br />Sometimes I find myself frantically trying to find an answer, the right words..<br /><br />..especially in matters concerning my faith.<br /><br />And I have learnt that, the moment I say "I know" to everything, is the moment I <span style="font-style: italic;">really don't know</span>..<br /><br />And the more I know, the more I realize how much <span style="font-style: italic;">I don't know</span>.<br /><br />Sometimes, "I don't know" will suffice.<br /><br />And "I don't know" at other times.. can be a turn on ;)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-8390277589919275112?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-71795848899188409202009-04-14T16:10:00.001+09:302009-04-14T16:36:14.065+09:30<span>Hi there,<br /><br />I'm a student, currently studying overseas and one of my topics this semester required me to look up Malaysia's development policies. Have never been one who thought much about politics and policies until now.<br /><br />Looking up the <span style="font-weight: bold;">Ninth Malaysia Plan </span>drawn up to move Malaysia toward <span style="font-weight: bold;">Wawasan 2020</span>, one of it's main efforts is for <span style="font-weight: bold;">Human Capital Development</span>. Upon more curiosity, I decided to read up on this Human Capital Development plan (<a href="http://www.pmo.gov.my/humancapital/index.html#">found on the PM's official website</a>). Amongst the many focuses of this plan is its focus on politics. And it has a sole focus - that is for <span style="font-weight: bold;">the creation of Malay leaders who are skilled, respected, admired, and trusted.</span><br /><br />I am writing to you to voice my opinion over what's written in our official development policy. How many of us rakyats really take the time to read what our current leaders have planned for the country? How many of us have heard our leaders talking about racial integration and racial equity without reading what's written black and white on government policies for development?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I am not championing a cause of any particular race</span> - because I believe that this upcoming generation should be taught to see beyond skin colour. If we truly want to see our country develop, why not put aside our selfish wants for ourselves and our particular race?<br /><br />The generations before us have told us that we are the leaders of tomorrow. But what's being invested in us to be Malaysia's future leaders? Why the racial discrimination? Aren't we all Anak Bangsa Malaysia?<br /><br />Having read the above plans and policies of our government, I know not who to turn. And where to go to voice out for my generation of young people.<br /><br />If this is not the right place to voice an opinion, I'll keep trying for other avenues.<br /><span style="color: rgb(136, 136, 136);"><br />--<br />A Malaysian Rakyat. </span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-7179584889918840920?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2376958910834035854.post-3216742327774928882009-04-09T11:07:00.000+09:302009-04-09T12:13:25.341+09:30And I blog again.<br /><br />It's a habit that was hard to kill, I reckon. Let's see, I started writing 5 years ago! In 2004.. When I was only 17. And what a difference 5 years make.<br /><br />This was the first ever post as a blogger:<br /><br /><span><p><span style="color: rgb(255, 128, 0);font-family:Comic Sans MS;" >first time</span><span style="color: rgb(255, 128, 0);font-family:Comic Sans MS;" ><img src="http://www.xanga.com/Images/happy.gif" width="15" height="15" /><br /><br />this is the maddest week of my semester. at times, really really would like to give everything up<img src="http://www.xanga.com/Images/sad.gif" width="15" height="15" />. the reality and madness of life. so much feelings are accumulated and shoved aside cuz of time constraint which does not allow me to face them. it's all bubbling up one by one and now, they're all acting against me...tryin to force their way out for me to face them. time time time! i do not have time<img src="http://www.xanga.com/Images/whatevah.gif" width="15" height="15" />.</span></p> <p><span style="color: rgb(255, 128, 0);font-family:Comic Sans MS;" >every single day, there'd be a breaking point<img src="http://www.xanga.com/Images/bummed.gif" width="15" height="15" />. and i'd just feel like crying. too many things are happening at once! confusion. not knowing whether to be happy or sad. </span></p> <p><span style="color: rgb(255, 128, 0);font-family:Comic Sans MS;" >tough tough. overcoming all obstacles by my own will drive me up the wall. but above all, i know that there's Someone superior behind all that is happening and all that i'm going thru the heartaches, heartbreaks, broken friendships, stress, assignments...all these would definitely turn out for the better. but WHEN<img src="http://www.xanga.com/Images/confused.gif" width="15" height="22" />? </span></p> <p><span style="color: rgb(255, 128, 0);font-family:Comic Sans MS;" >me =(</span></p></span>And those were the days when blogging acted as a catharsis tool of all that was pent up.<br /><br />It still is, in ways.<br /><br />And *gasps*.. So childish! Haha.<br /><br />"<span><span style="color: rgb(255, 128, 0);font-family:Comic Sans MS;" >i know that there's Someone superior behind all that is happening and all that i'm going thru the heartaches, heartbreaks, broken friendships, stress, assignments...</span></span>"<br /><br />Hmmm.<br /><br />And after 5 years of having a blog (plus that one year of being missing in action), I still cannot figure out the reason for blogging. Other than, it's an itch - when thoughts come and fingers are restless.<br /><br />But yeah. Here's coming back into the world of bloggers again. And this time, with Blogspot! Way better than Xanga, I reckon. Much much easier to tweak around with HTMLs now than before :)<br /><br />Till later, when the brain can generate more thoughts.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2376958910834035854-321674232777492888?l=ezztherr.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>[ezZtheRr]http://www.blogger.com/profile/09945152104575529472noreply@blogger.com10