What why? Well, why Malaysia will never escape the grasp of being a Third World nation.

Starts off like this, I was sitting in the bus when in comes these two brats who not only smell like cigarettes, but were eating like pigs. McDonalds, I shall forever shudder in this memory of you filling the likes of them. They SMELT, WERE LOUD & were totally oblivious to the discomforts of others. (They were kicking my chair)

Now, I'm not going to stereotype anyone. As thus, I won't reveal their races. But these two individuals were none older than minors, at least.

So what occured today on the bus (please note that this is just one of the many reasons why I'd rather wait for the RapidKL U24 than sit in a Metrobus 191) was that these 'gaki' decided it was ok to use their 'vocabulary' on us.

I had had enough so I just leaned over to my companions Wing & Swee Yie and just vented my woes. I had not ( I stress, NOT) in anyway made it painfully obvious to them. I had spoken in Mandarin, averted my eyes away & just vented. I merely said it loud enough so that they might hear. I'd not thought they would comprehend.

Apparently they did.

They then retaliated with choiced Mandarin words, Cantonese and the occasional BM and stunted English. Oh Please! I could've countered in 4 languages if I wanted to. But as Swee Yie had kindly pointed out, we are Chinese. Our parents taught us well to do our race proud and to conduct ourselves in a proper manner in public. She was right. My parents did taught me well. So, I plugged in my earphones and took my book out to read. No more playing with the uncouth.

Hahaha.... They didn't get the memo. When they got off the bus, Wing & I unplugged our earphones and started talking to Swee Yie who'd had the unfortunate fortune of having no earplugs. Seems like someone SERIOUSLY had no lesson in manners from their parents.

It looked to be like those kids just didn't stop when we did. (Actually we stopped WAAAY long ago) They just kept cussing and cussing and cussing in their excruciatingly stunted comprehension of Mandarin, Cantonese & English. Using words that NORMAL EDUCATED people would shy from using in public, they just went on and on thinking that they were so great. How embarassing. For them.

Is 'What book are you read?' a proper grammatically correct sentence? No? Goes to show these numbskulls didn't study or rather never paid attention in class. What we regret most from the proceedings of this evening wasn't the fact we bumped into these sort of people. No. What we regret most is that we didn't manage to record their immature antics. Imagine that. It would've been a hit on the web. Youtube baby. Youtube.

When they had not spurn any reaction from us, they took to commenting about the book I was reading and generally making a total fool of themselves. Then, as they were disembarking, they decided to throw a 'Fuck You'.

I did not hear a single thing coz Super Junior, SHInee, auto Kratz & SJM were singing in my ears. But I did managed a totally big 'Thank God!' as they were leaving and a 'Bye Bastards' . Wanna know what's funny? Some random 3rd party person decides to join in something that HAD NO TOTAL CONCERN whatsoever to him. Kay Poh Chee much? He threw a 'Ah Moi why are you like that, bla bla, bloody bla.' Like I care LOSER.

So. Malaysia's going to the dogs. And it's not just coz of the political state of things. It's the youth. They aren't the first I've met who are like this and they certainly won't be the last. Parents not giving the proper lessons of fundamentals in being a proper decent human beings and Educational systems that aren't even stable. A big WHY is in order.

America might be a country riddled with violence, arrogance and issues. But they have the proper excuses. Why can't we be like the Koreans or the Japanese? Or even the Kiwis? Or the Aussies? Or the Singaporeans with their will to the be the best? It seems to me all the youth of Malaysia cares about is nothing at all. The don't even have the mindset of making their country proud or to portray a good image of their nation. So many horror stories, embarassing ones too that will make your toes cringe. Yet so little time.

I've seen too much. It breaks my heart to be saying this, but people, go to Sarawak. Even if we decide to get all bitchy at people, we do it properly. With a proper comprehension of the words we use.

I swear, I love this country. I'm not saying that citizens of the other states in Malaysia have a very bad attitude and portray bad images of our country. I'm just a proud Sarawakian. Proud Malaysian. But I certainly don't want to raise my child in here.

Labels: Rant

The bruises are yellowing up, covered up by the darks of new ones. There's blood so I think I might have bled. Somewhere. But the pain is nothing but a mere fuzz on the edges of my consciousness.

I think I might've broken something. You touch me like I'm about to break. I'm fine, really. I can make out the words you're throwing at him. Please don't 'coz it's my fault too. This is what happens when a tornado meets the volcano. We both have tempers. And sometimes... Sometimes it just escalates.

I can see a part of you die when he holds me and I let him. Not flinching, not running away. Not hiding. I look back at you with blood shot eyes and I smile. It's a real smile and you can see it. You wonder why you love me when all I want is pain.

This is love. The pain just makes it real.

Labels: Short stories

I'm not looking at the empty beer cans
I'm not feeling the bruises
I'm not tasting the tears, the blood
I'm not breaking, not fragile
I'm not leaving, never leaving you

Take your hands off the doorknob
Throw your fist at the wall
Look at me
I said, Look At Me
I'm fine
I can take it

Maybe we're not as crazy as we seem
Maybe this is my fault
Maybe we just love the way we hurt
Maybe this is love
Maybe we just love it

Stand there and watch me cry
Hear me
I know you didn't mean it
I know you love me
I know we will do this again

It's ok
Put down the keys
Let me hold you
I won't tell anyone
No one will know
It's our secret, Hidden by the light

We can scratch, crawl, break, bite, punch
Love
We can look at each other cry
We can hurt each other
We can lie
To ourselves
To Everyone

I love you too much to walk away

Labels: Poem

A/N: I think everyone knows who I'm writing this about.

김영운, 당신을 사랑합니다... 자신을 벗어... 제가 2 년 동안 당신을 볼 수. 오빠, HWAITING! 내 가슴에 당신의 목소리를 개최합니다, 그리고 난 당신이 옆에 그것을 돌려 줘요. 내가 너무 힘들 때 우리가 작별 내일 말 울지 않으려고합니다. 약속... 그것은 단지 짧은 여행, 맞죠?



Steady hands pack the clothes; fold, roll, pack. No space for deliberation, it was as if he knew what he wanted and where he wanted it. He was going somewhere you cannot follow.

"Don't look at me like that. It's two years. I'll be back before you know it." He says, thumbing a line across your cheek. Two years. He'll be gone for two years. And yes, there'll be time for visits and what not, but it's not as if you could hold his hand in public, right? "It's not forever." He whispers, going back to what he was doing.

This is your last night together in a room, with a bed and he is fucking packing overalls. What is wrong with this picture?

You curl your toes, hearing the joints pop. Everything is wrong about this picture. It should be you doing the packing. Not him. So you grab his sleeve and pull him to you, cradling his form between your spread legs. Nuzzling into his chest, you sigh. You can feel his hand stroking your hair and his breath warm and minty in your ear. It's not going to be forever but it sure feels like it.

It's less than 12 hours now. You whisper in his ear what you want and watch a slow, slow smile curl on those lips just for you. It's just like back then. Only now, it's more bitter than sweet. When you stand in front of all those people, you can kiss him. When you cry tomorrow, you can't whisper like you do now. There are so many things to be said and so little time to say them all. Isn't it always?

You wish that the bruises and scars and bites will never fade from your body. Because it is what marks you as his. You wish that time would stop because damn you for being selfish, but all you want is a little more time with him. A little more, just a little more.

It's not the first time you don't want to see the sunrise.

{My 남편 is leaving tomorrow. And we won't see him for two years}

Labels: Short stories

{A continuation of a story I did last year. Check August 2009: Grief never lets you go. }


It's been almost a year. It's summer again. But the air will always feel cold. The heat no longer burns and the whole innocence of summer is no longer there. It's almost a year.

Could he really see me? Protect me from where he was? I don't know. I don't think I want to. But I can imagine it. Just like I can hear him every single morning since then. The way he would squint at my choice of lingerie for the day, the way he would laugh at my ridiculous attempts to smother down my bush of a hair, the way he would whisper, sing me to sleep. The counselors called it 'trauma', 'dealing with grief'. Fuck it, if I were to listen to them. He was there. Everyday.

I've taken down most of the things. The pictures, momentos, things that reminded me of him. I took down everything except for our wedding photo that I left on the kitchen countertop and the faded shot of our baby. The two things I could never bring myself to forget. The backyard is looking less like a jungle and more like a garden should. I had had to stay in the hotel for 3 days while they landscaped the place.

But this house is still made of empty bricks and hollow stones. It's too big. I've taken to looking at properties down by the quay. Nice apartments meant for one. His parents still visit now and then. His sister calls and we talk. But isn't it strange? I'm talking to people I'm no longer connected to in any way.

And there were those little things in between then and now. Christmas, birthdays, Valentines, anniversaries. They merely showed me what I'm missing. I got a dog. I called it Roo. It's a demanding thing, but it keeps me company and listens and watches me as I cry, tucking himself next to me as if he knew my grief.

I got a haircut 7 months after. It was pixie short and everyone says it looks good on me. But all I can see when I look in the mirror is how you'd sneak up on my and breathe in the scent of my hair and how you'd always love to stroke my hair and how'd you'd tell me that I looked beautiful in the mornings with my hair all over the place eventhough I know full well that I don't.

So one year. I survived one year. It's not easy. It still isn't easy. I don't think it ever will be.

Labels: Short stories

WARNING: NC-17, PG-13, 18SX and everything in between that says NOT FOR MINORS. Something we stopped being for quite some time already :D

These are three shorts that I wrote. The first and last was written in the middle of the night under the guiding light of my torchlight. The second was written over a cooling mug of Green Tea. So what do you guys think?


1. Rooftop hideouts

You find him sitting on the rooftop ledge and the wind is messing with his hair the way you know irks him to no end. But your heart hammers and skips a beat because you have never see anyone, anything this side of fucking beautiful.

You take the spot next to him; carefully sitting on the ledge that is a 4 stories' fall and follow his gaze out onto the sprawl of buildings that edge out to the sea. There are bruises and cuts on his hands and face and the one above his eye looks particularly nasty.

He says, effectively stopping you from reaching out to him. He doesn't even look at you. And you can't decide which is worse; the fact he won't accept your help or the fact that these injuries aren't there because of you.

You contemplate the answer as you watch the skies change from a light blue to a burst of red and gold. It's getting late. It's time to go. You cast a glance at him before getting up, brushing yourself down.


He's a broken doll himself. But he is a puppet with cut strings. There's no one there but the broken dolls. So he mends the dolls. Because he is one himself.

Labels: Short stories, Writing

The blood on the floor