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Labels: Special Event

Modern Poetry

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Tender Moments

I lie reclined on the thick mattress with my elbow in an almost right angle, and my hand cradling the back of my head. My eyes crawl in a lazy trail from her quiet face to the stacks of boxes behind her. Our room is a maze of piles of clothes waiting to be organized in the wardrobe, which still has the strong scent of wood, of picture frames in their protective wraps begging to be released and displayed, of table lamps and other small furniture with their matching partners lost in one of the unopened boxes, of my books and her magazines, stacked into little towers threatening to topple at the slightest sneeze, and of her odds and ends, her makeups, her vanity affair. We don't even have a proper bed yet, just the mattress pushed against the wall with the window. The guys from IKEA promised us delivery of the rest of our furniture today.

My eyes return to her, as they always do. Gentle morning light dances between the leaves of the tree outside our apartment block, peeking through the window, bathing her in a warm glow. The way her body moves with each breath reminds me of the quiet waves of the beach at sunrise. Her hair, usually a mystery of cascading silk, is sticking out everywhere, a stark contrast against her tranquil face. Her long, curved lashes catch the light of the sun, but still her eyes dart about behind closed lids, assuring me that she is still deeply asleep. Her full lips curve slightly. Maybe she is having a pleasant time in her secret dream world. Even asleep she takes my breath away.

I long to caress her smooth cheek, to trace a line down her angular jaw, to the small scar at the base of her neck, a token of her spirited childhood. She always tries to hide the scar, but I always tell her that it makes her even more perfect. Of course, she doesn't believe me. But I love kissing the scar. It's slightly cooler than the rest of her skin, where I love to kiss as well. Heck, I love kissing her, period. But I also love watching her sleep, so I refrain from risking waking her up.

She moves a fraction, and her hair floats down to rest on her lashes. Without thinking, I smooth the hair from her eye and tuck it behind her ear. My fingers caress her earlobe with the slightest pressure.

"Hey," she whispers without opening her eyes. Her dimple burrows a deep impression on her cheek as she smiles.

"Hey."

"Watchadoin?"

"Watching you sleep."

She lets out a throaty groan and pulls the blanket to cover her face. My exposed feet suddenly feel cold from the air-conditioning. I intertwine my feet with hers to share warmth.

"I'm ugly like this!"

I smile even though she can't see me, with her face buried under the down cover. I wait a moment before pulling the blanket over my head to join her. "No matter what time of the day, no matter how you look, you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on."

She lifts the blanket enough to peer at my face. She narrows her eyes to slits.

"Well…besides Angelina Jolie." Which earns me a hearty punch on the chest. "Oof! Ouch, that hurts!"

And we both break into a fit of laughs and giggles. I feel a stitch on my ribs from laughing so much. Settling down, I caress her chin between my thumb and forefinger.

"Well, I’m thankful you consented to share your life with me. I’m glad I’m able to wake up beside you every day, and to be able to look at you, to watch over you while you sleep."

She rolls her eyes. "Last I checked I didn't marry a poet." She lifts her hand and uses the back of her fingers to trace the contours of my face. "I love knowing you're watching over me. I love having our feet twisted together like this. But most of all, I love you."

And we kiss, a long, soft, and gentle kiss.

"Ugh," she mumbles between kisses. "Your breath stinks!"

"Yours too. But I’m not gonna stop kissing you!"

People are so dependent on crutches it's humiliating

I came across this article in Utusan Malaysia on Thursday, 11th June. Yes, people, I do read newspapers. Occasionally. Whenever there's one in front of me, that is. So stop that smirk I see on your face. Yes, you. So, anyway, the article. Feast your eyes.

ARKIB : 11/06/2009 PPSMI wajib dimansuh KUALA LUMPUR 10 Jun - Dasar Pengajaran dan Pembelajaran Sains dan Matematik dalam Bahasa Inggeris (PPSMI) wajib dimansuhkan mengikut Islam kerana ia mendatangkan kemudaratan kepada anak bangsa. Pengerusi Sekretariat Himpunan Ulama Rantau Asia (Shura), Abdul Ghani Samsuddin berkata, lebih 800 ulama di negara ini bersetuju bahawa dasar itu wajib dihapuskan secepat mungkin berdasarkan nas-nas naqli serta dalil-dalil agama. Jelasnya, kanak-kanak golongan miskin yang berada di luar bandar kebanyakannya tidak mampu menguasai bahasa Inggeris bagi memahami ilmu sains dan matematik. "Itu jelas satu bentuk kemudaratan. Berdasarkan nas-nas naqli, dinyatakan bahawa sesuatu yang mudarat dan boleh membawa kemudaratan adalah wajib dihapuskan," katanya. Beliau berkata demikian dalam sidang akhbar selepas mengetuai penyerahan memorandum 'Muafakat Ulama Mansuhkan PPSMI' kepada Majlis Raja-Raja Melayu melalui Penyimpan Mohor Besar Raja-Raja, Engku Tan Sri Ibrahim Engku Ngah di pejabat Penyimpan Mohor Besar Raja-Raja di sini hari ini. Memorandum setebal lima muka surat itu mengandungi 11 tuntutan yang didakwa diperakui lebih 40 persatuan ulama dan disokong oleh beberapa persatuan lain. Turut menyertai rombongan itu adalah Presiden Presiden Teras Pengupayaan Melayu (Teras), Mohd. Azmi Abdul Hamid serta Timbalan Pengerusi Gerakan Memansuhkan Pembelajaran Sains dan Matematik dalam Bahasa Inggeris (GMP), Prof, Shaharir Mohamad Zain. Antara tuntutan yang terkandung dalam memorandum itu adalah:

1. Menolak pelaksanaan PPSMI dalam sistem pendidikan negara.
2. Mendesak agar tulisan jawi kembali diperkasakan dalam sistem pendidikan negara termasuk menggalakkan urusan rasmi menggunakan tulisan jawi sebagai identiti negara.
3. Menegaskan kerajaan, khususnya Kementerian Pelajaran tidak boleh berdalih dengan alasan pencapaian Ujian Pencapaian Sekolah Rendah (UPSR), Penilaian Menengah Rendah (PMR) atau Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia (SPM) dijadikan asas bagi meneruskan atau memberhentikan pelaksanaan PPSMI.

Rough translation (coz I'm too lazy to translate the whole bloody thing):

Learning and Teaching Science and Mathematics in English Act (PPSMI), implemented by the government some years ago, MUST (capitalized to emphasize wajib, which means if you don't do this you'll burn in hell) be abolished as it is, get this, harmful toward the nation's youths. The chairman -- excuse me -- chairperson of Sekretariat Himpunan Ulama Rantau Asia (Shura) stated that over 800 ulama (learned, religious men) in Malaysia agreed that the Act should be abolished immediately, following Islamic dictum (nas) and proof (dalil). He explained that most poor children in rural areas cannot master English to effectively learn Maths and Science taught in that language. He went on to say that this is clearly harmful for those children (I'm trying hard to keep this translation unadulterated and to refrain from adding my own comments here. Read on for my comments in additional info). This guy actually led a group of pro-Malay language enthusiasts to submit a 5-page-long memorandum to the Sultanate. Among their demands are:

1. to reject the implementation of PPSMI
2. to push for the usage of Jawi (the Arabic lettering format) in writing in the Education System, in official context, and as a national identity.
3. to tell the government not to use the results of UPSR (Standard 6, end of Primary School), PMR (Form 3, mid Secondary School), or SPM (Form 5, end Secondary School) to decide whether to continue with or to stop PPSMI.

Oh, hey, will you look at that. I actually ended up translating the whole damn thing. For my cousins in Perth and Paris, this proves that I love you guys (feel free to roll your eyes here). The government implemented teaching Science and Mathematics in English a few years back, initially for Primary Schools only, and then followed by Secondary Schools, basically when those Primary School-goers grew up and entered Secondary School (or high school, whatever). Well, the government keeps on implementing new devices every few years or so to torment school goers I'm actually thankful I now belong with the working class. To me, personally, this was a good move. English is an international medium for business, as well as for higher learning. Mandarin and Japanese too, but let's not get that far. Most subjects in universities and colleges are taught in English. Most textbooks for such students are in English. Some of my friends failed their first year Professional Exam in uni because they could barely understand the lectures, and they had trouble understanding the reference books. Of course, having some of the lecturers teaching in a thick Southern Indian accent didn't help one bit. Even I had trouble understanding "Yeeyh Wai Eay Yehl Yuu Arr Ohw Yenn Aiy Sieh (HYALURONIC)". And this is a fact; not kidding. But those who persevered improved, and are now zombies -- er...I mean doctors -- in the Health Ministry. (Caution: Highly scandalous paragraph. Skip if you're the sensitive type) The Malays and other indigenous races of Malaysia are already given a mighty crutch. Article 153 in the Constitution protects our special rights and the benefits that come along with it, be it in education or in business. Seriously, don't go flaming me as a traitor of my own race. I'm not questioning the Article. I'm just saying that we are handed this privilege just by being born Malay, or Kadazan, or Iban, or some other indigenous race. We are given a free boost, a head start if we decide to participate in the competition. Other races have to do it on their own. When someone mentions withdrawing part of the crutch, everyone bitch about, complaining about everything. But if we look at our current situation, how many people actually make full and effective use of the help freely given? (Continue here) Now we have these so-called learned religious men flaunting Islamic teachings to protect another major crutch. They want poor villagers and rural people to stay poor, to deprive them the potential of good, solid education when these children grow up. They want these children to later on fail in education and get cheated on in business endeavors simply because they have difficulty mastering English. Likely, they didn't think about this future issue, just the ones at hand (like condemning whatever move the current government makes). That's why we need visionaries (i.e. evil, faith-deficit guys and gals) to think long-term benefits and consequences of any major decision that would affect the country as a whole. I get where Malay Language activists are coming from. Article 152 in the Constitution states that Malay Language is the national language, and is used for official occasions. This protects the language from being eliminated altogether. But with most subjects being taught in English, Malay Language could become obsolete in later generations. It certainly is headed there. It doesn't matter that the language itself is hardly original, but has a majority of words borrowed from other languages. It doesn't matter that the written language differs greatly from the everyday spoken language. Take my brother for example. He actually wrote 'amik' instead of 'ambil' for 'take'. We usually pronounce it as 'amik' or 'ambik', and rarely use the correct term 'ambil'. Imagine the gut-splitting laugh the whole family had when he showed us the test paper in dismay, generously decorated with red ink throughout the page. Slightly off topic, but bear with me. Malay Language, learned by all school-goers, is one of the glues that hold our nation together. I converse with Chinese and Indian patients in Malay (or using crude sign language and drawings, while jotting down 'Language Barrier' on the clerking sheet). With the so-called educated ones, I converse in Layman English most of the time. Easier for me to communicate, easier for them to understand. Win-win situation. Oh wait. What if everyone becomes educated and can converse well in English? Imagine the horror! Then anyone who's anyone can browse the internet for information of various diseases and can better understand their ailments. Oh the nightmare! Sarcasm aside, in a future where globalization is the in-thing, we cannot afford to lag just because we can't master English. And why can't we master English? Some zealots are complaining that learning in English is harmful toward the nation's youths. We are now all about One Malaysia. The rest of the world has already promoted One World ages ago. (Caution: political sentiment ahead. Skip if you're the sensitive type) Before we reached independence, the British only allowed Primary Education, segregated and taught in each race's native language. They didn't encourage higher education. The communists didn't encourage any education whatsoever. Why? Simple. Knowledge is power. If the locals understand English, they can't be cheated off their rights as human beings. If the locals can get access to higher education, they will band up and fight for their independence. Oh wait. That happened in our country. Our neighboring countries shun us for achieving our independence not with brute strength, the manly way, but with words, like a wuss. Well, we kept the killings at the minimal, yet we got our independence. Because of visionaries (evil, faith-deficit men). We retained more than enough manpower to build the country after gaining independence. (Continue here) These zealots are trying to prevent the youths of our nation from gaining education at its maximum potential. So what makes them different from those oppressive colonialists? Well, I may be exaggerating things a bit, but frankly I don't see the difference. Unless Malay Language is used internationally, by the whole world, stopping teaching learning Science and Mathematics in English because it is harmful to the nation's youths is just maintaining the crutch that will keep our children crippled. People can always say, "We learned in Malay back in the good ol' days, and we're educated. We're doing OK." And they're right. I learned Science and Math in Malay. I'd like to think I did OK. But I'm talking about learning at its fullest potential here. I found the transition from learning in Malay medium to fully English medium in uni seamless because I'm good in English in the first place (not bragging, mind. Just stating a fact). The same can't be said for my friends who weren't so good in that language, although their minds are far brighter than mine. That being said, teachers need to brush up their mastery of English in order for them to teach properly, and to make this move work. They cannot say, "Eh, susahla nak ajar guna Bahasa Inggeris," because that mentality will affect the students under their care. OK. You can start flaming me for the evil, faith-deficit guy that I am. For those of you who made it this far, and think along my train of thoughts, please share this with the whole world.

Labels: Special Event

New Series: Glee

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Labels: Special Event

A must read for those who write fiction

Nathan Bransford is a Literary Agent, based in San Francisco. A lot of agents in the US and UK have blogs where they dispense advice, as well as share their experiences in the publication world. A whole different world than the one I reside in, I say. I came across his blog a couple of months back, when I was browsing for literary agents. I'm not sure if there are English Fiction agents here in Malaysia. Google came up with zilch result. If I do end up finishing a novel, I'd like to be represented. 'Cause my knowledge of the publication world is like that Google result: zilch. So. This ginormously beneficent agent has compiled all his previous posts pertaining to steps to publish a novel, which can be reached by clicking on this post's title, or here. So if you're serious about writing, and can't spend the moolah on how-to-write-well books, do read the posts, including the 200+ comments. A lot of the commentors are writers as well, and they share their thoughts and wisdom too.

Labels: Special Event, Tutorial

Tender Moments

I pluck the guitar strings together with my eyes closed. Picking up the discrepancy in sound, I turn the peghead and try again. I smile a fraction when the two strings sing as one.

"What are you so smug about?"

"Eh?" I crane my neck to the right and look at her looking at me. In her face I register honest curiosity. "Not smug. Why?"

"You were smiling to yourself just now."

"I wasn't even looking at you. How could you tell?"

"Your dimple showed."

"I thought you're reading?"

With a sigh, followed by a shrug, she lifts her book off the grass and continues reading. Brother Odd by Dean Koontz. Not my genre, but then again, we disagree on so many things that I still can't believe she is sitting here beside me under the shade of this old tree, partially leaning against my back. I continue looking at her in silence, but I could've been a stump for all the attention she is giving me. Her eyes, half closed, dart about as she reads, her long lashes catching slivers of sunlight. Her lips are partially opened, and once in a while she would form soundless words.

Careful not to move too much, I give a shrug of my own. I love the feel of her weight on my back. Not too much pressure to make me exert a counterweight, but enough to assure me that she's really here. I turn my attention back to my guitar. Its once polished surface is now faded, and the original lighter color of wood grain shows where my callused fingers have been strumming all these years. I've changed the strings countless times, but the guitar still plays beautiful songs for me. I pluck the strings again, two at a time. This time the tuning is just about right.

I start plucking the opening chords of my favorite song. After playing the same chords twice, I start singing, just under my breath.

"And even though the moment passed me by, I still can't turn away..."

I must have drifted into my own world again, 'cause I don't feel her weight lifting off me. When I look up, she is already kneeling in front of me, her right hand resting on mine, effectively stopping me from plucking the strings. Her head is slightly cocked to the right, her expression a curious mixture that I can't quite figure out. That's one of the things I adore about her: I can never figure her out. Her book is on the grass beside her, closed.

"Wha?" I raise my eyebrows in a show of calm inquiry. Inside my heart is thumping madly against my chest. I give a quick prayer that she can't feel the slight trembling of my hands.

"Stop."

This is the first time I sing in front of her, for her. And she hates it. Goddamit! I knew this is a bad idea. I feel like shoving my guitar into its canvas bag before I do anything rash and stupid with it.

"I told you I can't sing that well. Hell, this is one of the only songs I can play."

"Liar."

"Which part?" I give her the most innocent look I can muster. "I can't sing well or I only know a few songs?"

"I know you can sing a lot of songs."

"Ouch."

"Well, you're not Johnny Rzeznik, obviously." It's a wonder her expression remains unreadable. My own must be changing like a tropical storm.

I look for the condemnation in her eyes. I find none. I watch her in nervous silence, my fingers frozen awkwardly on the fretboard. Without taking her eyes off me, she reaches into her jeans pocket and takes out her handphone. She then looks at her phone and fiddles with it.

"Start again. I'm recording this."

My fingers refuse to budge. "Why?"

"Simply. Sing. Now."

"Why?"

She blows her wispy fringe off her long lashes in a loud huff. Sunlight dances in her dark brown eyes. A slow smile plays on her lips. "Because it's you, singing this song. Because I love your voice more than I'll ever love Johnny Rzeznik's. Because I want to hear this every day."

A sudden wave warms my cheeks. "You'll get bored."

"So sing me a new song when that happens. Sheesh. Now shut up and sing."

I face down toward my guitar to hide my smile. I'm still smiling when I start singing Name.

Major Blockage

My head feels like a shithole right now, heavy with dumps and junks that just can't be flushed out. I have a few half-written entries, mainly short stories, saved in drafts. I get stumped after a few sentences. I know I'm no brilliant writer, but I can't come up with something even half decent, much less tear-inducing. Last time I experienced this, I couldn't write a single story for 4 freaking years. People have a term for this: Writer's-freaking-block. Some people argue that writer's block is just an excuse for not being productive. A writer should just trudge on, regardless of lack of inspiration or capability to string words together to make a complete, lovely sentence. A writer's block is just a state of mind. I say, shove it up their jolly asses! Writing is Art, and artistic ventures need inspiration. With the state of mind I'm in, it's a small wonder I can even write this gibberish rant at all. On a lighter note, I'm being critical even though I'm writing crap. I'm filtering out plenty of 'even' even though I'm itching to use that word. I'm even (ahaha...didn't filter that out on purpose. In your face!) counting how many times I use a particular word, how a sentence sounds, and all that technical stuff about writing well. The whole shitty-jing-bang. Oh. And I'm loving being able to cuss about with reckless abandon in this post. It's the state of mind I'm in, see. So, back to this writer's block. I think I should first be an actual writer (i.e. paid to write) to be eligible to have a block. Like, whatever, man. Let me have my demons to fight and bitch about. Then again, I get paid RM40 for each Medical Report I write. Booyeah! I've almost exhausted my options of books on writing. I've bought and read so many that I start to see the pattern. They kinda sound the same, more or less. Hell, I've written an attempt at creating a writing tutorial from reading those books, as well as from my own experience. There's no such thing as reading too much, mind. Not even when it comes to porn. Hehehe. One book that I do find refreshing is Stephen King's On Writing. I love it so much that it warrants a review. One day soon. I promise. Funny thing is, Kinokuniya staff shelved the book along with other Stephen King books in Horror section. A non-fiction about writing, in Horror. Whatthehell?! So, what am I to do? When one finds that one cannot write, one can either rewrite something, or read. I bought Kill Your Friends by John Niven for my sister ages ago, and it's still in its plastic cover. Dark Comedy isn't my preferred genre, but one cannot be restricted when enriching oneself. I may even start reading those Medical books again. Urm. Ah. Gah! This block is. Freaking. Annoying! Just like a festering zit, throbbing, aching to explode with all its purulent glory. Gross. I know. Live with it. Ok. Now to start writing. I mean reading. The hell. Cheers!

Salam from JB

I'm in my grandparents' home in JB trying to sleep. Definitely not looking forward to driving back to KL tomorrow evening.

Been having a good time here though. Good to be able to catch up with my cousins, aunts and uncles. Even better is the food. The ikan bakar and ais kacang (here they use cocoa instead of those funny colored syrup) are simply divine. My family's must-have food everytime we come back to JB.

The weather's superb. Sweltering-hot as usual, which is good since my cousin's having her wedding receptions from last night till tomorrow afternoon. I know, we Malays are suckers for celebrations.

Uh. Oh. What I'm looking forward to is being on leave till Tuesday. Time to recuperate. But Mother dear had her shoes stolen last night during the late night reception. Some sod must have been too tired to care that she put on the wrong pair. My mom says there are people who deliberately wear old shoes to be exchanged with nicer ones at gatherings. Not that any Westerner will ever come across this blog, but in spirit of clarity, we take off our shoes before entering a house. It's not gross walking around barefoot. Get over it.

So, anyway. I think my mom may be on to something. At any rate, she mentioned a shopping excurtion on Monday for a new pair of shoes. Some pairs, more like. Oh well.

Hmm...two days of (hopefully) 1 Tender Moments piece, 1 tutorial (I've been slacking, I know) and maybe some soul searching, to find the voices of Adrian and Rina again.

Oh. By the way. I never did get a chance to buy myself a cup of Caramel Signature Hot Chocolate on Thursday. Got out of OT just in time to do rounds and wardwork, and went home after lunch. Zonked out until 2300 ish, spent some quality time with my beloved computer (which is, thankfully, still nameless) and continued zonking out in as I recall a dreamless sleep. I woke up late on Friday and immediately checked my phone. No missed calls. I guess the ICU staff passed over the message that I'd be on leave.

Happy.

Sent from my iPhone

Sleepless in HKL

This is a random, unintelligible entry. No joke. I have not been sleeping since...lemme see...when I woke up at 0700 hours, Tuesday. And now it's already 0600, Wednesday. No patients to operate till 1630, and that's when the day actually began. I didn't go idling about before that time, mind. And no, before anyone who happens to read this thinks that I'm bitching about work, I'm not. I'm currently in between cases. Just finished opening up someone's skull and taking out the evil blood clot, and waiting for the next patient for me to poke a tube in. Fun, isn't it? I'm halfway drowsy, hence this crap excuse of an entry. Anything to get my mind going, and HKL server blocks Freesky Online. That's a browser-based game. WoW is definitely out of the question. I tried, waay back in 2006. Uh. Oh. I got an idea on a novella or novel while chatting and gossiping (yes, you read right. Gossiping.) with my OT staff nurses (Kak Yana, Kak Haili and Mas) from midnight to 0230. I know, I could've slept then. Meh. Time well spent, I say. Anyway, before I get deviated. The story idea. It's definitely a romantic story. What else, coming from me? A girl gets dumped on the eve of her wedding. She gets heartbroken, she swears off men, the usual female reaction works. But, as I keep on saying, life goes on. She meets this guy, who's not exactly her type. He antagonizes her, he irks her, but he's kind to her at the same time. Just when romance starts to unfold, her ex-fiance appears into her life. He's still everything she wants, and she still loves him. So she has to choose. Well, I dunno if anyone has come across the storyline before. Not exactly 100% original. Some variation must exist somewhere. It's rare to come up with something totally different and completely original. At first glance, everyone would likely take side with the new guy. But what if the old flame is portrayed to be a good guy as well? What if he had a strong reason to have broken off the wedding, and that he still loves her, and only her? I can imagine Tita shaking her head at this. Likely the girl's character will be flaky and not strong enough, and she'll likely end up disliking the girl, like most of my other female protagonists. Sigh. Hmm...love triangle sounds like a Bollywood movie. If I add another female character, who's the new guy's best friend who's secretly in love with him, I'd get the formula for a successful Korean drama. Winnah! I told you, this entry is random, just like life. Total randomness. Oy. When is the patient arriving at the airlock? My change of clothes is still in the car, untouched since I arrived at work. Methinks, I'll grab a quick shower after this (hot water is out again. Lame.) and drive to Starbucks KLCC for a fix of Venti Caramel Signature Hot Chocolate and a Cinnamon Roll, heated up, for RM 19.20. Or, as what the barrista says whenever he sees me there, "The usual?" Goes to show how many times I've spent RM 19.20 at that place. Oh. By the way, some people would guard their ideas with a tenacity rivaling a mother koala. I don't mind sharing. Maybe someone will come across this entry and writes a story with the same setup. I'll say, "Good on ya!" and buy a copy of that book, to see how he/she tackles it. Basic ideas may be the same, but each storytelling is different, based on the author's background, education, character, prejudices, and beliefs. Life is too short and too precious for us to be spoiled sports. The patient still hasn't arrived! WHATTHEHELL?! OK. Gotta go. Can't think of anything else to say. One more case, shower, Subuh, Starbucks, Morning Conference, rounds, and if I'm lucky, my specialist wouldn't mind my chucking off after that. If he ends up minding, I have to continue working till 1630. Crappers. Friday it's driving back to JB for my cousin's wedding. I hope I won't face statements along the line of "Fadz bila lagi?" Aku lepuk kang. Cheers!