Saturday, March 31, 2007
I Got It
I finally got what I have been asking for for a very long time. All I can think of now is to play as many games as I can. But too bad, I'm in the thicke of preparing for my final exams. After that, its two weeks of pure gaming!!!
Friday, March 30, 2007
My Perfect Journey
A few minutes ago, I was indulging myself in a National Geographic Magazine. I was reading about the the mass deforestation and the destruction of the Amazon Forest by unscrupulous developers and soy planters. I then went on to read a little bit about a man's nearly fatal adventure at the north pole. As a matter of fact, I'm reading it while typing out this post. What amazed me most about the magazine was the level of professionalism displayed by the journalists who write in them and also the level of photography involved. I always believed that language and art showed the true level of civilization by a certain community. That is particularly why I do not have much reverence towards Malaysians or towards any community within this respect who have butchered languages ,used them in vain, proclaimed that art are for losers and have committed unprecedented horrors upon the development of mankind. But returning to the magazine.
While reading the magazine, I could not help but be amazed by what I read and what I saw. I also started to feel jealous. I felt a great deal of envy towards the photographers who held their cameras and shot the pictures that I saw. I envied the journalists who were able to write in this magazine. What I envied the most were the people who got to embark on amazing adventures during their quest to acquire material for the magazine. All of these made me ask myself a few questions. What is it that I really want in life? How do I wish to see myself twenty years from now? Am I really doing what satisfies me, or what satisfies my mind?
Right now, I am a student who is in the process of majoring with a bachelors degree in Aerospace Engineering. I had a passion for aeroplanes since I was a young lad. It all started when my father used to take me to the restaurants that lined the side of Subang Airport's runway. He would take me to the fence, and we would watch Aeroplanes take off and land. The sight of it really awed me. We used to go there regularly. Even if we did not go there to eat, I would drag my dad and beg him, at night, to take me there just so I could go and watch aeroplanes. And he would. Another place which we would go to was the Cargo Terminal. I remember seeing a huge Boeing 747 parked on the tarmac.The sight of it just rooted me to the ground. I would just stand and look at it with so much excitement. That passion still remains as strong as ever. But somehow, I never felt satisfied enough studying math and physics. I needed something more.
All along, I always considered myself to be different. Different in a sense that, I fail to find amusement in what others around me find amusing. I rarely find myself engaged in conversations in which people around me usually do with ease. I somehow never seemed to share the hopes and dreams of others. Where everybody else was in a mad pursuit to wear white collars, I was dreaming of soaking myself in mud. I love dreaming of doing things that seemed out of the ordinary. I love embarking on outrageous if not amazing adventures. I love standing right smack in the middle of danger, hanging by a rope that may snap at anytime. Call me crazy or unrealistic, but this is just who I am. I couldn't care less about anything else or what anybody has to say. I just love the adrenaline rush and that feeling of boyish excitement that comes along with it. I just love doing something that is completely wild an out of the ordinary. Thats why I figured that when the dust finally settles, I want to be a journalist, a photographer, an explorer, an adventurer, a traveller, a wealthy psychopath an adrenaline junkie, and so many other things. I just want to experience anything and everything. Too bad, where I stay, It is almost impossible to find someone who shares this dream.
Life is something that should never be wasted on attempting to please all those around you. It should instead be spent on doing the the things that satisfies you the most. Let it be anything. But just make sure that you are happy doing it. For you live for yourself, not for the world.
While reading the magazine, I could not help but be amazed by what I read and what I saw. I also started to feel jealous. I felt a great deal of envy towards the photographers who held their cameras and shot the pictures that I saw. I envied the journalists who were able to write in this magazine. What I envied the most were the people who got to embark on amazing adventures during their quest to acquire material for the magazine. All of these made me ask myself a few questions. What is it that I really want in life? How do I wish to see myself twenty years from now? Am I really doing what satisfies me, or what satisfies my mind?
Right now, I am a student who is in the process of majoring with a bachelors degree in Aerospace Engineering. I had a passion for aeroplanes since I was a young lad. It all started when my father used to take me to the restaurants that lined the side of Subang Airport's runway. He would take me to the fence, and we would watch Aeroplanes take off and land. The sight of it really awed me. We used to go there regularly. Even if we did not go there to eat, I would drag my dad and beg him, at night, to take me there just so I could go and watch aeroplanes. And he would. Another place which we would go to was the Cargo Terminal. I remember seeing a huge Boeing 747 parked on the tarmac.The sight of it just rooted me to the ground. I would just stand and look at it with so much excitement. That passion still remains as strong as ever. But somehow, I never felt satisfied enough studying math and physics. I needed something more.
All along, I always considered myself to be different. Different in a sense that, I fail to find amusement in what others around me find amusing. I rarely find myself engaged in conversations in which people around me usually do with ease. I somehow never seemed to share the hopes and dreams of others. Where everybody else was in a mad pursuit to wear white collars, I was dreaming of soaking myself in mud. I love dreaming of doing things that seemed out of the ordinary. I love embarking on outrageous if not amazing adventures. I love standing right smack in the middle of danger, hanging by a rope that may snap at anytime. Call me crazy or unrealistic, but this is just who I am. I couldn't care less about anything else or what anybody has to say. I just love the adrenaline rush and that feeling of boyish excitement that comes along with it. I just love doing something that is completely wild an out of the ordinary. Thats why I figured that when the dust finally settles, I want to be a journalist, a photographer, an explorer, an adventurer, a traveller, a wealthy psychopath an adrenaline junkie, and so many other things. I just want to experience anything and everything. Too bad, where I stay, It is almost impossible to find someone who shares this dream.
Life is something that should never be wasted on attempting to please all those around you. It should instead be spent on doing the the things that satisfies you the most. Let it be anything. But just make sure that you are happy doing it. For you live for yourself, not for the world.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Of Real Men and V8 Engines
Whoever said that watching F1 from the grandstands is a boring affair, must be a real nutcase. I'd refute their claims anyday ,anywhere. I went to Sepang to watch the official F1 testing today. And boy was I blown away. The cars were superb. The sounds were extremely loud. Nevere have I witnessed something so spectacular. Save for the time I sat in the cockpit of an F/A-18D fighter jet back in 2005.
I had planned this outing for over a week. I had known about the testing late last year, and naturally, I was excited. I tried calling a few friends, but most of them, except Ashvin, backed out. Its their loss I guess. We took the bus there. And also for the trip back home.
But to save you the trouble of having to read, I shall post some pictures instead. Enjoy.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
My Childhood Part 2
So people, after much delay, I will now write the sequel to My Childhood Part 1. For this post,you better put on you fire suits and get ready to call the firemen. You might need them sooner than you think. But before you read this one, read the first part.
Did I mention to any of you that I loved creating 'art' out of fire? Well, in case you didn't know, I love fire and I love to make then. Anywhere, anytime. In my house, we have an altar. And in the altar there are many flammable items as well as matchsticks. And my mother always told me never to play with fire It might burn you. So what I would do is, I would go into the altar, close the door and stare at the altar. After a few minutes, I would reach into the drawer and grab some paper. After that I would crumple all those sheets of paper into a big ball of paper, then put it into one of those small metal boxes. I would do next is to light the match, and then turn the papers into a huge fireball. Like all things, fire too grows. When it is small, its hardly scary. But when the fire becomes big, that's when all of hell will break loose. When it became big, I would start running around like a headless chicken trying to look for water. Fortunately for me, there is a Toilet beside my altar. I would run in, grab a small cup of water and pour it over the fire. But to my horror, the fire did not die out. I quickly ran into the the toilet again and grabbed some more water. The fire would only die out after a few attempts. But that was long enough to allow the fire to cause the altar's yellow paint to turn black and to burn off a little bit of its wood. Wonder how mom would respond to that? I got scared. I really did not know what to do. I tried wiping it off with a dry cloth, but that did not work. I tried to think a a million different excuses to tell my mom. I even tried to tell her that the maid did it. And in case you were wondering, this is how she responded to it. As usual, my mom would return home after work. The first thing that she would normally do is to go to the kitchen and eat, re freshen herself, then go to her favorite place. The Altar! She was in for a rude shock.
'Pina, (my maid's name) Why is the altar so black?' 'I don't know.' That's when I would walk in with my sad face trying to explain how the entire thing wasn't my fault. I would say that I was trying to clean the altar and I accidentally burned the place. Of course, like all adults, she did not buy it. She gave me a good spanking afterward.
Of course, that was not the last time I ever played with fire. Another time I did, I nearly burnt the whole house down. This was what happened. I emptied one of the wastepaper baskets in my home and brought it to my study room. I then locked the door. I then started to put my old books into the wastepaper basket. Next, I poured some oil into it. I grabbed a matchstick and started to burn the papers. And all of those happened right next to the wall. Which had a photo beside it. As it started to burn, I heard footsteps coming from the staircase. And before I knew it, my maid was knocking on the room door. 'Hoi, Senthil! What are you doing? I want to put in the clothes. Faster open the door.' my maid started saying. I didn't reply. I stood there with my mouth shut. Staring at the growing fire. I started to panic. I did not know what to do. As I stood there watching, the wastepaperbasket started to melt. The wall started turning black. But yet, I just stood there and watched. Suddenly, 'Oi Senthil! Why got smoke? Are you playing with the fire? I tell you mother. Ai! Faster! The whole house burn I tell you!!' My maid started screaming. By then, black smoke was already rising from the wastepaper basket. I snapped out of my state of shock, ran to the toilet, grabbed a pail of water and poured it over the burning wastepaper basket. Due to the size of the fire, I had to pour water over it a few times before it died down. By then my maid was screaming in Filipino Language. Man, that was funny. Filipino language is funny indeed. Even a normal conversation among them sounds like they are fighting. Screaming was like war. Funnier that Russel Peter's accents. I can still remember it. When the fire died down, I opened the door to let her in. She started scolding me. I told her that I accidentally started the fire. And it wasn't my fault. The more I tried to tell her what 'happened' the more she did not believe me. She even spanked me. That night, when my parents returned home, my maid told them everything. And as usual, they gave me a good beating while lecturing me. But this did not deter me from my fiery ambition.
I did more burnings at my house. I remember my brother and I burnt the floor panels with my dad's soldering equioment once. He got pretty mad. I also managed to burn a few holes in the bedsheet with incence sticks. I did many more but I can't remember them. But that's all for now. I still have more stories. But once again, I'll leave that for another post.
Did I mention to any of you that I loved creating 'art' out of fire? Well, in case you didn't know, I love fire and I love to make then. Anywhere, anytime. In my house, we have an altar. And in the altar there are many flammable items as well as matchsticks. And my mother always told me never to play with fire It might burn you. So what I would do is, I would go into the altar, close the door and stare at the altar. After a few minutes, I would reach into the drawer and grab some paper. After that I would crumple all those sheets of paper into a big ball of paper, then put it into one of those small metal boxes. I would do next is to light the match, and then turn the papers into a huge fireball. Like all things, fire too grows. When it is small, its hardly scary. But when the fire becomes big, that's when all of hell will break loose. When it became big, I would start running around like a headless chicken trying to look for water. Fortunately for me, there is a Toilet beside my altar. I would run in, grab a small cup of water and pour it over the fire. But to my horror, the fire did not die out. I quickly ran into the the toilet again and grabbed some more water. The fire would only die out after a few attempts. But that was long enough to allow the fire to cause the altar's yellow paint to turn black and to burn off a little bit of its wood. Wonder how mom would respond to that? I got scared. I really did not know what to do. I tried wiping it off with a dry cloth, but that did not work. I tried to think a a million different excuses to tell my mom. I even tried to tell her that the maid did it. And in case you were wondering, this is how she responded to it. As usual, my mom would return home after work. The first thing that she would normally do is to go to the kitchen and eat, re freshen herself, then go to her favorite place. The Altar! She was in for a rude shock.
'Pina, (my maid's name) Why is the altar so black?' 'I don't know.' That's when I would walk in with my sad face trying to explain how the entire thing wasn't my fault. I would say that I was trying to clean the altar and I accidentally burned the place. Of course, like all adults, she did not buy it. She gave me a good spanking afterward.
Of course, that was not the last time I ever played with fire. Another time I did, I nearly burnt the whole house down. This was what happened. I emptied one of the wastepaper baskets in my home and brought it to my study room. I then locked the door. I then started to put my old books into the wastepaper basket. Next, I poured some oil into it. I grabbed a matchstick and started to burn the papers. And all of those happened right next to the wall. Which had a photo beside it. As it started to burn, I heard footsteps coming from the staircase. And before I knew it, my maid was knocking on the room door. 'Hoi, Senthil! What are you doing? I want to put in the clothes. Faster open the door.' my maid started saying. I didn't reply. I stood there with my mouth shut. Staring at the growing fire. I started to panic. I did not know what to do. As I stood there watching, the wastepaperbasket started to melt. The wall started turning black. But yet, I just stood there and watched. Suddenly, 'Oi Senthil! Why got smoke? Are you playing with the fire? I tell you mother. Ai! Faster! The whole house burn I tell you!!' My maid started screaming. By then, black smoke was already rising from the wastepaper basket. I snapped out of my state of shock, ran to the toilet, grabbed a pail of water and poured it over the burning wastepaper basket. Due to the size of the fire, I had to pour water over it a few times before it died down. By then my maid was screaming in Filipino Language. Man, that was funny. Filipino language is funny indeed. Even a normal conversation among them sounds like they are fighting. Screaming was like war. Funnier that Russel Peter's accents. I can still remember it. When the fire died down, I opened the door to let her in. She started scolding me. I told her that I accidentally started the fire. And it wasn't my fault. The more I tried to tell her what 'happened' the more she did not believe me. She even spanked me. That night, when my parents returned home, my maid told them everything. And as usual, they gave me a good beating while lecturing me. But this did not deter me from my fiery ambition.
I did more burnings at my house. I remember my brother and I burnt the floor panels with my dad's soldering equioment once. He got pretty mad. I also managed to burn a few holes in the bedsheet with incence sticks. I did many more but I can't remember them. But that's all for now. I still have more stories. But once again, I'll leave that for another post.
The Game That Never Was
Everytime that you ask me, I am forced into lying. Everytime you mention it, my heart skips three beats. Sometimes I really wish that I could tell you the truth and say that it is you who owns a piece of me. Without it, I feel so empty. That it is you who carried me away from all that is real. That it is you that makes me feel the way I feel. But somehow, I just can seem to find it in me to tell you how i feel. Sometimes I worry too much. Sometimes I ask too much. I know that the faster I run, the faster I win the race, but I risks are just too heavy. The slower I move, I risk loosing the race, but I dont risks are lighter.What should I do? Play the game, or back out of it and live in regret and continue to ponder about what might have been. Winston Churchill once said, ' Life is but a game of Russian Roulette, throw the dice and hope for the best.' But then again, ' Life is also but a game of chess, you think before your move'
For this is the game that never really was a game. It was merely an illusion created by the player who had never really understood the significance of what he saw hapen right before the sight of his eyes. This is an 'game' never to produce winners and never to produce losers. Only reconciliation between lost souls.
Just a piece that I took off and completed from my old blog.
For this is the game that never really was a game. It was merely an illusion created by the player who had never really understood the significance of what he saw hapen right before the sight of his eyes. This is an 'game' never to produce winners and never to produce losers. Only reconciliation between lost souls.
Just a piece that I took off and completed from my old blog.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
3/11/07
If you were expecting My Chilhood Part 2 today, I'm sorry to have disappointed you. Like yesterday, I just did not have the time today. I went to the doctor, for the second time in less then a week. Lat week I was sick, this week, I just needed the doctor. I went to customize my computer today, after years of asking my parents. I studied physics today. Physics is getting more and more interesting. Ms Jerry is simply awesome. She may not be the best, but she sure knows how to keep us entertained. The entire class is just whacky. Me, Sachin, Calvin, Nickie, Bridget, Kok Luey, Kazu, Radzlin, Fazlan, and the other diploma dudes, along Ms. Jerry, we make one heck of a circus. We talked about gays and pretty boys today. Oh brother. But apart from that, today was indeed a great day. No better words to describe it.
March the 11th 2007.
March the 11th 2007.
Monday, March 26, 2007
My Blog
'An amazing journey, always starts with an amazing attitude.' I wanted to continue to blog about my childhood today but I decided against it because I'm just too lazy. I do enjoy writing about my childhood. Yesterday, really I couldn't stop laughing while I was writing about my childhood days. I was laughing all the way through. Replaying all those scenes really was a good experience. Who would have ever thought that someone like me could have caused so much carnage? But anyways, returning to the point, though I do enjoy writing about my childhood, I don't want to do it right now because the following episodes are simply too long and I don't have as much time as I would have liked to have right now. And furthermore, not everybody has read it yet, and therefore, I shall let everybody read it, then proceed to the next episode.
So, what do I blog about? I don't know. Your guess is as good as mine. Quite frequently, in my charge to fill this blog with at least an entry a day, I have posted so many works of questionable quality at best. I do admit that while I have come up with some pretty good posts, the rest of them are a complete eyesore. So much so that even I get bored of reading them. To make matters worse, some of them just don't make any sense or even justify a point at least. This of course leads to one problem. If I don't particularly enjoy reading my blog, would others be? This is obviously a question of common sense. Need I answer it? But wit this said, will it lead me to produce entries of better quality in the forseable future? I don't know. Does Martin Scorcese make good movies all the time? The last time I checked, it took him ages to get an award. So your guess is also as good as mine. But for all of you who have read and left comments on this blog, I really thank you. The knowledge of the existence if this blog is limited to only a few people, 5 I think, but I do suspect that number to be slightly larger. But to those of you whao have been reading, thank you.
So, what do I blog about? I don't know. Your guess is as good as mine. Quite frequently, in my charge to fill this blog with at least an entry a day, I have posted so many works of questionable quality at best. I do admit that while I have come up with some pretty good posts, the rest of them are a complete eyesore. So much so that even I get bored of reading them. To make matters worse, some of them just don't make any sense or even justify a point at least. This of course leads to one problem. If I don't particularly enjoy reading my blog, would others be? This is obviously a question of common sense. Need I answer it? But wit this said, will it lead me to produce entries of better quality in the forseable future? I don't know. Does Martin Scorcese make good movies all the time? The last time I checked, it took him ages to get an award. So your guess is also as good as mine. But for all of you who have read and left comments on this blog, I really thank you. The knowledge of the existence if this blog is limited to only a few people, 5 I think, but I do suspect that number to be slightly larger. But to those of you whao have been reading, thank you.
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