The AznGeek

Posted by azngeek at April 14th, 2008

They come and they go. The problem is, when they are gone. How do you deal?

The ones you lose a long the way. Can you count the reasons why? Were there even reasons to start with?

You think that following silently along the side lines, would be alright. Words may not have been exchanged for a life time. And you know it. You want to be the one who just needs to know they are alright. And all the times you’ve been meaning to say or do something. You let go to waste.

How do you patch up something that YOU broke? How dare you even try to ease in to a conversation, and pretend that things have never changed.

Can you cure the silence? 

I can’t. 

Posted by azngeek at March 24th, 2008

I believe many a times we do not realize that our parents were once our age. They once had a concoction of hormones coursing through their veins propelling them to idiotic heights. Much like at this point in time in my life. I blame hormones for every stupid thing I’ve ever done to date (quite brilliant isn’t it?).

But getting back onto point. Being young at heart. I was in the car with my dad just today. And there was a BMW 328 being utterly moronic. And then there goes my dad, changing lanes and planting it. Unexpected. Yes. He concluded the little encounter with a whisper under his breath, “You’ve got nothing on me mate.”

And there I was sitting. Awestruck. My dad, the boy racer.

Will wonders never cease.

Signing off,

Azngeek

Posted by azngeek at February 24th, 2008

Seriously guys. Me here. Not dead. Honestly. I can’t even say I’ve been overly burdened with an abundance of work either. Because summer school was quite a bit of work, but quite a bit of down time as well. Life has been interesting-ish.

Picked up Spanish to add to my list of languages that I struggle to speak - why? I’m not quite sure myself. Just a general education paper I suppose.

Ah yes. Just ditched my k800

For a blackberry curve 8310

People that know me. Would have known that yea I like my little techie stuff. But to be honest. Wasn’t as excited as I would have been over a new gadget as I would have been even a few years back. Maybe it’s me growing up. Hah (the most unlikely scenario. pffft. Me growing up.) At least it’s an interesting little toy. GPS is a nice little novelty.

But that’s me. Just a tiny little update. A language. A toy. Yea.

Signing off,

Azngeek

Posted by psych at February 13th, 2008

A wise man once said (aforementioned wise man is my ex lecturer Mr Moaz of TaylorsUniversityCollege, if its still called that now) that humans spend their whole lives in boxes. He wasnt the first person to mention this but he gave the most dramatic (as usual) explanation for it so it kinda stuck.

For those who don’t know, we all live in rooms (except the homeless who literally, live IN Boxes of the cardboard variety), which are more or less boxes (they dont have to be perfectly symmetrical or even shaped like squares), those rooms are in bigger boxes (your house). You travel around in boxes (cars, buses, trains, planes) to go to boxes (malls, offices, buildings in general), when you’re older you work in boxes (cubicles or schools or offices etc etc) and don’t forget the everyday required box-visits (toilets). Eventually you’ll end up in a box (coffin or ash in a jar =p).
People who want to twist this logic for their own means usually add that people also watch too much tv (OMG its a box as well!) Well, I disagree with that because technically, we’re not IN the box. It just temporarily eats and spits out the mind(s) of viewer(s) =)
Anyway, you could possibly defy the last coffin one by getting yourself ash-ified and then spread in the wind but you’ll probably end up being blown into a Box of some kind. Sad reality, eh? Hearing that made me think that we needed to get out of boxes. Now I realize that theres no good substitute for boxes. Spheres? Whats the difference then? Someone would just mention that we were all trapped in spheres for our whole lives and we would just need to switch to another shape. The absolute lack of containers is definitely not an option. Obviously, right? Or have we gotten used to these things that we don’t see the happier and healthier container-less alternative. At least, I don’t see any better alternative.

Going off topic for a while, as I usually do and won’t stop doing since my thoughts often branch and I just pick the one that I think is easier to type out. Of all the subjects I endured countless hours learning, the one that made the biggest impact on my life is World Issues. If youre a student taking ICPU/CIMP and are deciding on an elective, TAKE IT. Its nowhere near an effortless course but its worthit. Chemistry,Bio,Physics,DataMangmt,Business (The first two which I actually needed) don’t hold a candle to it. Gonna go off topic again. People who want to pursue careers that mean alot to them don’t because of the awesomeness related to other careers. To motivate students in (Malaysian) schools, teachers often say things like “Nanti besar jadi doktor kaya” or “When you become an engineer later dont forget who thought you basic science ok?” Nobody says anything like, “When you bring attention to the starving orphans striken with HIV in Africa people will surely thank you for your efforts” or, “Bila besar kamu ada keupayaan untuk menghapuskan peperangan ataupun menolong negara negara yang kurang upaya.” Haha the last one was weird. My Malay kinda(really) sucks. I dont mean them literally. Just use your imagination and change them if they dont work for you.

Sucky thing is I don’t think theres any good possibility of building a solid career based on how much you care and not on how much money you make or how jealous you’ll make that-relative-you-dont-even-know-very-well or that-neighbour-who-doesnt-give-a-fuck-and-just-wants-to-push-
her-son-to-do-better-than-you-so-she-can-start-bragging. That is still an Malaysian middle aged auntie quality that I just cant stand. I especially get pissed off by the ones that brag like people actually care. =) Still, they don’t have much else to brag about so I guess they’ve earned it in some way.
In short, being a wartime journalist in Kenya/Palestine or a human rights activist in Myanmar will probably get you killed and therefore no girl will marry you and you’ll be poor before you die. So just choose something else. Most people have this mindset. So do I. Well, not about the marry and die part. Alot of girls IMO find dashing journalists a turn-on =/ right? For me, caring about people isnt enough of an incentive to possibly damn myself to lowpaying missions and lifethreathening situations throughout my life. After all I was raised in the above ^ system so I guess it did what it was supposed to do. Malaysia is bothered more with improving itself than helping others or getting some humanitarian recognition.
No point worrying about that now. I’m gonna go sleep for a while. On my box-like bed.

L8erz,

pSyCh

Posted by wordsmith at January 2nd, 2008

by wordsmith

1. The snooze button on the alarm clock becomes a vice;
2. Handwriting becomes a tad illegible;
3. Misplaced brain somewhere in oblivion needs to be tracked down;
4. Busy routine needs to be adapted…again;
5. The days of boredom are long gone;
6. Uniform for some cosmic reason seems smaller than before;
7. Homework is the new best friend;
8. School desk is deluded as comfy pillow;
9. Early to bed; early to rise;
10. Regretting and sighing are common habits.

The above post is mainly directed to schooling people. As much as I have grown accustomed to the aforementioned repercussions, a little adapting is always necessary on my part as the long school holidays (> a month) can do a lot of damage to the brain and mind; especially mine since I have S.A.D…I think.

I am bracing myself for the new school year which begins tomorrow. It is merely just a piece of cake since the only cardinal thing I have to do is sit for my SPM examination and ace it. Hah, piece of cake? Who am I kidding? It’s more like a pizza inundated with cheese, pepperoni and the like. Nasty. Gross. Yuck. Eww. Pure torture.

Posted by azngeek at December 6th, 2007

Are you an enabler? Don’t know? Unsure? Let me help you to see whether you are one. And if you aren’t. First let me tell you what an enabler is then i suppose. An enabler is a person who well to stupidly put it: Enables others.  Duhhhhhh. Okay fine. Lets really talk about what an enabler does. An enabler capacitates, facilitates, and just gives some form of assurance to another whether in the negative or positive sense.

Some people need negative enablers. Others. Need positive ones. A nudge in the right direction.

Lets talk about the positive type first. The positive type, would usually fall under the kind hearted, gullible, still innocent-ish, optimistic annoying arses. They believe in magic, little fairies, ponies, and little unicorns. And believe that anything can happen if they try hard enough or want something enough. And will tell you so. They’ll tell you that YOU should go for the girl next door that you’ve been head over heels with for as long as you can remember, they will tell you that you WILL be able to afford that nice Euro car the next year, and they will tell you that you will be able to reach the peek of that skiing slope and completely nail it without having too many ungraceful face imprints into the cold hard compressed snow.

And then you have the negative types. Who tell you. No. You can’t do that and that. You lack the ability. You aren’t good enough. And so on and so forth. Maybe because they understand that you yourself would try harder if you are told no. Or they could be extreme realist. Or the alternative to that is that they could be just downright mean spirited arses.

Am I an enabler? Well. I’ve been doing part time tutoring for a while now. And I guess I’ve developed some fairly decent enabling skills. I play on both sides of the fence. Neither nor just a pure positive hippy, or the negative black faced bastard that everyone would love to freeze, place on a popsicle stick, and watch them melt into nothingness (Don’t ask me where I get these weird images from, they just come to me. Like a dream)

My end word is. I’d like to be your enabler. If you so need one. And I’ll be whatever kind of enabler you might need. Just talk to me. Talk to people. Let them know about your current state of mind, of your wants, your needs, your likes, even your dislikes. Makes the world a better place. Lets all be enablers.

PS: I know that if you always head towards the negative enabling methods, you’ll be shunned by society and they will eat your first newborn child.

Azngeek

Posted by azngeek at July 27th, 2007

The stomach it twist and churns. The discomfort. It’s no longer palpable. You always make me feel like this. Always.

It’s hard to grasp, impossible to comprehend at this point; Why I’ve never learnt, why I always allow myself to be so vulnerable, so open, so me, when I’m around you.

If you just walked away
What could I really say?
Would it matter anyway?
Would it change how you feel? -Staind

When I felt like I was in a free fall spiraling out of control. You held on. Held on like no one would believe. When I could no longer stand. You were the shoulder. You let me lean on you. Around you. I was at ease. I could be at rest. Defenses down. A battle hardened soldier from the front line, at long last emancipated from the sweat soaked blood stained armor. A weight of the shoulders. Sanity? You were my sanity.

And while he wishes he could escape this
But it all seems so contagious
Not to be yourself and faceless
in a song that has no soul
I remember feeling low
I remember losing hope
And I remember all the feelings and the day they stopped -Our Lady Peace

And then. I could stand again. Stand once again. Almost. On my own two feet. And then you let go. I don’t blame you.

We are, we are all innocent,
One day, you’ll stand up on your own
You'’ll stand up on your own  -Our Lady Peace
At that point. The point of emancipation. The point of an end. The full stop to an incomplete unexplored epic. It ends.

Reality comes crashing. The relationship. The relating. The bridge that was once thought to connect two indviduals, for all this time, was just the support of the other. At that point, it breaks, it yields, and it fails.

From yesterday. You thought I was strong. And steadfast. Headstrong. You thought I could make it.

The disgusting truth is. I was weak. I was strong. Strong because of you. You gave me the strength. To do all that I’ve done. The strength to be just worthy of your affection.  You think I’m intelligible. Funny. And witty. Only because I needed to be worth your attention. Everything I’ve strived for. I’ve achieved. I thank you. You. You. You.

Maybe you’re the same as me
We see things they’ll never see
You and I are gonna live forever -Oasis

They say as time passes. Things are supposed to heal. But I still so desperately need to lean on you once again. After all this time. I still try so hard. To be worthy of you. And you alone.

And tell me everything will be alright
Lie to me once again
And ask yourself before we say goodbye
Well goodbye
Was it worth it in the end? -12 Stones

*sigh*. I do miss you. I still try to be the best me. Because of you. You know. And when I feel like I’m at my limits. I just think. Think of you.

Signing off.

Azngeek

Posted by azngeek at July 22nd, 2007

Hey people. Sorry for being away for so long. Been a bit busy. My cousin Ron came over for the mid year break. He arrived on the 5th, a Thursday.

Meet cousin Ron. He’s currently constipated and is trying his best to look good for the camera. A handsome young lad. When he’s urm. Not constipated. (Check out his shirt. I think it screams sexy. Don’t you imaginary ladies that check my site REGULARLY think so?)

Well yes. He flew over from Melbourne for a pigging out fest in Auckland, New Gee-Rand!

His flight had about a 5:45 touch down, and he checked out at about 6. Took him home like the new toy boy he is. Heh. Exciting. A new Ken doll. Except. A more verbal. And Asian one. Can anyone say, house of wax? Meh. So yes. Took him home. The very animated little toy boy, went out for dinner. Nothing very interesting.

The next day. 3 hour road trip to Mt. Manganui. The beach of Tauranga. Plans to eat pig out. And. A rugby ball (plus we brought laptops and a wireless access point for late night gaming). So yes. Tauranga.

We arrive there. Check in. And we head off to this cute little Italian outfit that had a decent right up. The food was mediocre. I thought I’d go safe and go with a lasagna. It was bland to say the least. But the chef. He was a real crack up. Reminiscent of a real-life Mario. Had to take some pictures with the chef.

Group picture without the chef. Just the kiddies. 2 sisters. 3 of my sisters friends. And 2 cousins

Ahh. And here he is. Mr. Mario. I was cracking up inside. I would say I was smiling because he was grabbing my ass. But that would require some photoshopping of his hands. Something I’m not too keen on to do on a Sunday night.

Another shot of Ron unamused

The other cousin. Nick. (More affectionately known as twinky. Yes I made that up) He says hello.

We head back to the apartment.

To play some cards!

I’ve got a better hand than you BITCH!

But I still lose. And have to shuffle. Fuck. I am unhappy. Can you tell?

Another candid shot from the next dinner.

Sorry to dissapoint. But no pictures of us playing some rugby.

Tackling Ron and Nick into the sand was fun. Until i got tackled back. And got sand into the slider of my phone. Shittzor.

And that was Tauranga. Say goodbye.

And then we also headed out to have pearl milk tea and play cards at this crazy asian joint in the city.

They have weird little kitty dolls. The place is called Hulu cat. How much more Asian can we get? (Ron is ashamed of his heritage)

Posted by psych at July 16th, 2007

Air. Water. Not Udara. It rained for the first time in a long time yesterday. Heavens closed up like a tight fist and the clouds did their job. Happened again this morning I think. That’s the case unless I forgot the timer on my a/c. Kinda freezing when I woke up. Made me as hopeful as a wolf surrounded by sheep.

However, unlike the lucky wolf, I was starving. So. Being the practical guy that I am, knowing that I would have to live on my own soon and might not have the convenience of calling in for stuff, I went all DIY and made my own food. You’re thinking, “Bah, did you fry an egg or something?”, “Made a sandwich did we?”, “Did you just nuke a *ins. food name*?” Hell no. I friggin made a lasagna. With the works. Manually. No instant sauce or anything. Missed out on a few things cos I didnt have them but it turned out amazing. Now, now, are we being overconfident? Why, no. I’m so not over my cooking skills cause they are amazing. Like untapped energy in the earth’s core. UNLIMITED. Ok. Overrated. I’m happy so sue me. Mushrooms, onions, oregano, puree, garlic, beef, tomatoes (or to-Mah-toes:either works fine), pasta, ricotta and those cheddar slice thingys. My god. Amazing what two hands can do. Living alone.. bring it on. Nope no pics of my masterpiece because like I said I was hungry and couldn’t even stop long enough to answer the call of the wild(nature. aka pee aka go to the toilet. I know most of you arent slow or anything but I dont want weird questions). Besides camwhoring should if allowed at all be conducted by humans and humans alone. Maybe pets are ok.
Now that that’s done. Watched Harry and The Phoenix’s Order. =). Yea I didnt wanna type out the long title. Sounds kinda lame now that I think of it. No offense to Rowling. She was probably very tired when she came up with it. Or the name has something to do with some major plot in the seventh book (which also has an extremely bad-sounding name). Deathly hallows sounds very vague-ish since I cant connect it with some sort of mental picture. At least something like deathly ‘hellos’ which sounds stupid but at least brings to my mind “hellos” killing people. Hallows bring up nothing at all. Everything else made sense. Guess my English is not British enough to automatically understand what Hallows are. Half Blood Prince sounded great. All mysterious and royal-like. According to Rowling, “Any clarification of the meaning of ‘Hallows’ would give away too much of the story – well, it would, wouldn’t it? Being the title and all. So I’m afraid I’m not answering.” Damn her. But praise her for the books. Sick books that get you hooked. Btw, theres thing online thing called Pownce. Sounds very promising. If friendster did what Pownce can do I woulda joined up years ago. www.pownce.com. Registration requires invites atm. Made by Kevin Rose’s company. TechTV’s still alive, well technically its dead by i mean figuratively. LL it.

pSyCh

Posted by azngeek at June 27th, 2007

It’s ironic. How a simple phone call. The tiresome mundane ring of the age old invention. How every aspect. Every thread of an event, can be woven and then be completely massacred into a mess of tattered frayed edges of nothing.

I know what a phone call can do. It can brighten ones day. To know that some out there cares. Or not even that. To know that someone out there, isn’t a complete asshole. Or seems to not be a complete asshole. That’s good enough for me. To brighten my day. To sort of have that flicker, that smidgen of hope. To hold on to. To help wind the sails to take you through a rough day. That’s why I believe in random phone calls. To people you’ve not talked to in yonks. Just to let them know that they are remembered. And for the more popular people. Maybe just to let them know. Yea. You still are that popular person you were back in high school even though that might not have been the point of the call. It could be just purely be on good will and the needs and wants of human beings wanting to connect. To stay in touch. To feel wanted. And to feel needed. All hat jazz.

And then again. You get those phone calls. You never dream of hearing. The lost of a loved one. The lost of friend. Bad news on some test results. Cancer. Or even something as simple as your son having lost the team the finals in a football game. Tatters. Thoughts. They wander.

Well about a call.

Yea. Fuck. I had just got off the phone. A random phone call. Just to make myself feel sort of better. I had a shitty tiring day. I somehow got myself a job teaching a kid with a learning disorder. It frustrates me to no end. But. Well. Someone I know of. Sounded a bit under the weather. And I thought a phone call would do us both good. And then I called. And then there was idle chitter chatter, some exchange of some nonsensical rants, mostly on my part. A fresh voice. It was new. It was good to feel connected again. Yes. It did. Considering how isolated I’ve been feeling (thus the retail therapy, another post for another time). A call on my part. To cheer someone else up. That warm fuzziness rush. Very much like adrenaline. But sugary sweet. And packs far more punch as it gives the senses a tingle. I’m a sucker for warm and fuzziness. Hahha. In a completely macho and manly way of course. I assure you.

Then I try to drift off to sleep. But sure. I’m feeling better about myself and all. (I’m a selfish whore. I make people feel better to help my own psychotic self destructive complex. Maybe. I have no idea) But I’m bothered. Something doesn’t feel quite right. And I have an early start for work the next day. Tutoring. Bleh. don’t as k me why. So I toss and turn. And the phone. It rings. I stare at it idly. And then pick up. It’s my mates mother. She can’t get a hold of her son and was wondering whether he was with me, considering he was out since the morning and it was 12 at night. My heart sank. It was unlike him. Unlike Michael. My friend from college who had just come over back for a holiday from Melbourne days ago.

I told her I’d do everything I could to try to help her look for him. I got the phone. Dialled what must have been a few dozen numbers. Bothering everyone I knew. “Guys. Michael is missing. Seen him around?” But to no avail. I called back his mom. Told him I didn’t know what else to do. And she told me I should get some rest. In another 24 hours. she’d make that phone call. The one no one ever wants to make. A missing persons report to the plice after 24 hours.

And there’s my night. Tossing and turning. I head off for tutoring. And call his home again to check up on his mother. His mother’s hand phone is off. I go straight into the message box. Much like Michael’s phone. And then. I dial his house number….

—-

—-

And there he is. The fucker came back. In the wee hours of the morning. Mc0ahle you bloody bastard. That was a whole nights sleep! DICSD:LKJP(*Q#$PIU

Asswipe. Will kick your ass the next time I see you. I swear.

Signing off,
Anzgeek

Posted by azngeek at June 23rd, 2007

Do I hear big gasps and sighs? At the sight of such an insidious title. Do I hear giggles and chuckles as well? And questions. What is he heading towards. Is it the run off the mill sexist/racist/generalization articles that I so love writing? Well. Actually. No. This ladies and gents. Is an article on sensitivity. On reaching a pinnacle, in relating and relationships, in the eyes of the Azngeek.

I abstain from offering a quotation of a definition from any dictionaries. I don’t see eye to eye with them. No. I don’t. I do not believe it to be that of a submissive character. But lets have a discussion. IE. A self absorbed self discussion. Because I believe in my self-righteousness thoroughly.

The feminine side. Don’t really fancy talking about it. But what is it?

Well. Dudes and duddettes. I will be illustrating what I think it is.

I’m not new to the idea of having to wait for a considerable amount of time for girls/women to prepare themselves for an outing. The thing is. A lot of this waiting time ends up with I don’t know. An annoyance build up within the male psych. Especially if it’s been going on for a long time, IE the relationship is not new and exciting. But the thing is. How many of you can step out of your own shoes. Take a second to step into her shoes. And think. “If I were her. You know what. Yea. I understand”. The point I’m illustrating here is not submission. It’s empathy. The thing is. What many take for granted is the why. The OBVIOUS reason is she could be wanting to look good for you. So you. You. And you. You fucknut. Don’t ruin it for her and yourself. But I’m not going to say that the female is selfless. No. In the same illustration, again, ask yourself why? Well. Asshole. If you haven’t figured it out, THEY WANT TO LOOK GOOD FOR THEMSELVES LA. OMG. WHERE DO YOU THINK METROSEXUALITY COMES FROM LA. They want to look good for themselves. It gives them a self empowerment. It puts a spring in their step. It makes them feel good, to well feel pretty. I’m appalled with the intelligence levels of my imaginary readers. Time to imagine you people to oblivion! So, what have you gathered from my defining of the female psych thus far? Well. The female psych involves empathy. Being able to put yourself in the other persons shoes.

Lets move on. The same illustration. Okay. So. Dude. You get pissed off. She gets pissed off. And you people have a crappy time at an expensive candle lit dinner that SHOULD very well have been one of those magical moments that you people can laugh about and talk about. One of those relationship strengthening moments. Where does anyone get off  being able to ruin something like that? Think about it this way. You are displeased with how long she takes to get ready. Why not just push the dinner date a bit further. Compromise. You asshole. Tell her. “Hey hun’, shall I push dinner a bit later, so you have more time to get ready and look your best? I’ll be here at whatever time you want me to pick you up at?” instead of being the macho male who sets the time for the date. Compromise. Can? If you just bloody did that. Compromise. You’d still have that magical moment. For just the two of you. *whispers* “I still think you are an asshole. And a moron for not figuring this out earlier”

Urm. So yea. Bloody hell. Screw all those people that think being feminine. Is being submissive. They empathize. And bloody compromise. There’s a different level of maturity with being able to be feminine. That’s why lesbos are coming out everywhere. Mmmmm. Lesbos. (I digress)

Signing out,

Azngeek