Currently Gaming EIDOS INTERACTIVE Legacy Of Kain: Defiance ( Windows ) By Eidos Interactive see related

The Way of the Willow

Sunday, October the 30th, 2005

"It was not a matter of choices!" cried a girl wearing a blue T-shirt loudly, and all eyes turned to face her. Oblivious to the amused (and probably bewildered) looks of the people around them, they continued bickering, loud, resonant, and bitter. To some, it was a rare sight, where people burst out publicly, openly, where there were still probably some twenty "unrelated" individuals in the small coffee shop. The girl was waving frantically, animatedly, apparently furious at another older woman while two others tried to calm her down.

Moments later, "I did not do it, Mom!" Another outburst from the girl, and tears were streaming down her swollen eyes. Her face was flushed with anger. Another girl clad in blue, probably the sister, was also in tears. Again, bystanders turned their heads and curious eyes to appraise the matter and try to gauge the severity of the ruckus. The mother, a middle-aged woman, was silent, but her face remained resolute. The middlepersons (who tried to soothe the daughter just now) were lost in their progress to help. Here were three adamantly stubborn people who would not budge with their decisions. How should any reconciliation come from this pointless discussion, if none was willing to yield?

To tell the truth, I was pretty much embarrassed when the commotion broke out. We're bystanders, who had nothing to do with the issue being on debate in that group of people. However, curiosity usually gets the best out of ourselves, and our acute ears could not help but overhear certain comments and remarks that are just, shall we say, "audible" words said by the people involved. While I tried my very best to avert my gaze at the private matter, and struggled to steer my mind from that table where those people were seated, my ears were the least to cooperate. They stubbornly refuse to be deaf to sounds.

When they were in heated discussion (or rather, bickering), I was then in deep contemplation (after some powerful effort of shifting my attention to the cold, stony ground, and therefore shutting out their loud conversation): Why is it that we were the ones who feel embarrassed, and not them? Usually, family matters, however serious, are privy only to family members. And to bring such shamefulness, be it to the daughters or to the mother, is something that I would not - and could not - bring myself to do in public. It's enough having a rickety family relationship already, what more to bring it out and spill it to the public to see.

Perhaps they could not see the consequences (or maybe they were not from around there), but revealing shameful internal matters to outsiders shows a certain enmity thriving in the family. Little arguments could be settled amicably, but when it escalates to full-fledged war of the words between members, one could only hope that the rest of the world is deaf. And being granted the natural ability of an empath, I feel sorry for the family and the people trying to help settle their hostilities.

Gleaning what little information I could from the brief "aural attacks" occasionally, I could see that the daughters were pretty much hyped about their mother's attitude or action towards them. I have no say in the matter, for it remains cloudy to me, but should I be in the position of the daughters, I would not be able to bring myself to raise my voice several octaves higher than that in an opera - because it's humiliating to shout publicly, and more so towards your parents. It shows inconsideration for their pride and image, however low or tainted they may be to us. And to break down in tears then and there? God knows what will happen if that actually occurs to me.

Yes, I do agree that parents, however wise and experienced they claim themselves to be, could never escape from the clutches of mistakes. In fact, as age rises, the number of mistakes rises as well. However, I have not brushed off their cross-generational advices, however foolish or absurd they may sound today, even if I want to. Since I was little, I've developed this uncanny ability to be able to understand what hardwork and toil mean.

Almost every night when my parents were out late during their direct-selling seminars (which they have abandoned now) or testimonials, I would stay up late, even past midnight. I would meander in the house (while my sisters and brothers were asleep), praying to the gods to grant them safe passage home. Sometimes, when they came home late, I would start crying alone on bed, thinking the worst had happened to them. Call me an idiot for that, but I was worried sick then (and this could be blamed on the horrid depiction of accidents on the television). I would rush out and jump into their hands when the doors opened, which shocked them as to why I was not sleeping. Peculiarly enough, I always doze off peacefully after that.

I do not like their perpetual hovering and breathing down your neck, telling you what to do and what not to do, yes, but I accept it as part of what I am today. My mother is a very strict person, and she prioritizes education above all else for us. As a result, we were - and are - constantly drilled into studying whenever examinations draw near. I have this personal principle of "studying whenever I feel like studying", so I dislike being forced to study. Even so, I do not blame my mother for being like that; it shows that she pays attention to us, and loves us, in an unnatural way. I may not like the nagging, but that doesn't mean that I should retaliate forcefully.

There are better ways to settle this rather than engaging in painful, tear-wrenching war of words. Learn from the willow; it knows what the hurricane does not: Bend with the force of the storm, and return gently in kind once it passes. Learn to yield, and from there, tolerance blossoms. 

Currently Gaming WarCraft III Expansion: The Frozen Throne By Vivendi Universal see related

Misconstrued Perceptions

Tuesday, October the 18th, 2005

Finally, a day when I update my left-behind blog that didn't happen on Monday (I guess the Monday hypothesis was wrong, and boy, that was a relief). Well, actually, I thought of updating it on Monday morning, but then, certain events drew my attention away, and the blog was momentarily forgotten... until somebody chastised me today for not updating the blog, and the reason he gave was, "Because you're a male". So flabbergasted and confused I was with the statement that I could not reply him that moment.

Perhaps it was true. Males are perceptionally more playful, unfriendly, lazy, have more brawn than brains, supposed to fork out money for their girlfriend's occasional sprees at shopping complexes, be gentle, understanding, hardworking, and protective. There is perhaps a longer string of adjectives to describe the personalities and characteristics of the male species than what I've listed here, but these are usually the more common ones.

In retrospect, females are loving, strong-willed, beautiful, motherly, emotional, caring, more intelligent, fragile, supposed to be thrifty but fails miserably (due to their unquenchable shopping appetites and jewel-hungry eyes) when it comes to money (but they're considered the crème of the crop when it comes to mathematics and economics, surveys have reported), and et cetera. His perception of me then wasn't wrong at all, perhaps because he viewed me that way; I didn't blame him, for I think it's rather true.

But then, a thought struck me: Does every male (or female) in the world fit into the general perception that we've come to rely upon, that they are all the same embodiment of the personalities woven into the eyes and minds of others? If that is true, then isn't the world going to be a dull, dreary place, where every action and deed could be predicted, every movement read easily, countered and counter-countered? For a moment longer, I mulled over the precept of generalization, and a sudden dread filled me. What if, I'm someone else, and the someone else is me; who then is the real me, and who then is the genuine someone else? Perhaps we're the same? Or maybe we've a slight difference invisible to the naked eyes?

Sifting through the newspaper, I found an interesting article: A handicapped student of a university scored Second Class Honours (with a CGPA of 3.66, slightly a bit more for First Class Honours) in Bachelor of Science (Hons) Biotechnology. Admittedly, she could've been my rival, but let's put that aside for now. Her characteristics? Very hardworking (fits the personality of a general female), intelligent (another trait), and strong-willed (yet another trait).

However, because of her incapacitated legs, she could not possibly climb up staircases to go to certain places. So, she crawled up the stairs instead, to get to the library and laboratories to do her research for her final year project. Because of this, she always appeared dirty and unkempt (characteristics of males), looked unfriendly (she has had no close friends in the university, and this is a male characteristic), and introverted.

When she graduated from the university (leaving behind bitter memories), she sought work that suited her field of expertise. Not one company took her application in. At the very last, she applied with the Government, whereby she was assigned a job that required her to constantly move in the wilderness and do research. Baffled, I re-read the article, but the statement stayed: "Going into the wilderness and do research".

How could she possibly take up such a position when her conditions did not allow it? Did the officers-in-charge of her interview thought that she was a healthy, normal person when they first received her application? Again, general perceptions come in, whereby those people who scored high in their studies are normal, free-from-disabilities people.

Following the incident, I realized that humans are neither stagnant nor static. They grow, and mature, albeit different speeds and paths. They learn to believe in something, to form an attitude of it, and then share their opinions of things to others. Thus, misconstrued perceptions often begin when people start to categorize people to make it easier for them to distinguish things.

One flaw of this categorization is that it oversimplifies the dynamic nature of humans, and therefore undermines the great possibility of different individuals and characteristics in the same group of people. To give a Malaysian example, certain Chinese have no qualms consuming "otherworldly" creatures (like frogs and bats), while certain Chinese could not stomach these delicacies (like me).

Although stereotyping, the act of categorizing people and things, helps to quicken understanding and perception of things, but it should not be made a dominant method of appraising others. Stereotyping fails when met with dynamicism, and thus the mistaken perceptions could bring more hurt than benefits to a person.

Currently Reading The Fifth Dawn (Magic: The Gathering: Mirrodin Cycle) By Cory Herndon see related

The World - A Harsh Reality or A Tenuous Dream?

Monday, October the 3rd, 2005

Oh, I just noticed that I'm always updating my blog on Monday (except for the first entry, of course), even though I'm quite free on the other days. I don't know why, but it seems fitting to add a new entry at the first day of every week. Guess I'm a Monday freak?

Anyhow, it's already October, a fresh, new month in the Gregorian Calendar. Time sure flies by without us noticing its significance. Every passing hour, minute, and second were lost in the midst of the activities that we carry out every day (I'm not that lucky to be enjoying my day at Sunway Lagoon like Menzoberranzan). Of course, I've been planning to have fun during my three-month-long holiday, and so, I turned to my source of information, the newspaper, to see whether any interesting events are going on.

It's a new month, October, where winter approaches the Northern Hemisphere, and I was filled with anticipation as I took up the STAR newspaper and paid the RM 1.20 to the newsvendor. I was half-expecting the gentle breeze to be carrying the crisp air of the ending autumn, fresh, laced with the aroma of fragrant, senescing leaves, and was going to enjoy every second of it, when... a terrible, sickening sensation caught hold of my throat.

No, I was not brought a pleasant whiff, a perfumed breeze; I was breathing in rot, decay, and decline. I was inhaling war, smoke, dust, and blood. Perhaps I was exaggerating, perhaps I was using hyperboles too much, or even perhaps that my imagination was running wild, but my thoughts exactly were mirrored in what the news had to say yesterday: war, blood, decay, and decline - the culmination of death and destruction.

Metaphors may be crude, but they best express what was - and is - in my heart. Perhaps peace and harmony aren't what I've conceived them to be ever since I was young. History tells of the great deeds our forefathers did when they were battling invasions by imperialists, tortures and torments by conquerors, and the climax of the history peaked at the dissolution of these crises in a peaceful, matured way. That was what I've always thought of - and believed - that serenity and calm could be obtained diplomatically and wisely.

How immature I was, and foolishness beguiled my senses to think that human nature could so easily be molded to what we wish and dreamed them to be. I was wrong - deadly wrong. If a human can understand another person, then why is there squabbles and arguments? If a human strives for human benefit, then why is there deprivation of amenities and lack of food to some? If a human works towards peace and harmony, then why is there war and destruction of both life and materials?

God's creations finally backfired upon Himself, or perhaps this is but an arrangement of the Fate and a test to us the creatures of the Almighty One. I am, however, in no position to fathom the limitless depths of the supernatural vault of knowledge and wisdom, and must therefore rely on my perception, senses, and rationale to sort out things that happen in the world. I'm just hoping against hope, that my previous assumption of what peace and harmony meant will not be eroded entirely, and that it could still be mended, to some degree.

I'm neither a politician nor a philosopher, but I can see clearly that things in the world stand on the brink of utter destruction if none perceives the final consequences of the uncountable decisions made that deviate from the desired results and if none takes steps to prevent the horrendous plunge.

Already, war and enmity are spreading their cancerous effects to every part of the world, and the society is suffering a great decline in both resource and culture. Armaments explode and burst, victims succumb and die. People are beginning to be highly suspicious of one another, and fights break out at the slightest erroneous disposition.

Nature too, does not escape from the tangle, and is both nursing her wounds and venting her anger. Tornadoes wreaked havoc in the concrete forests of America and Europe, and global temperature is ever rising, gradually.

Soon, the entire world will finally be engulfed in the inevitable fate, and become embroiled in making unnecessary actions that will waste away the precious life.

A question yet remains: is the world meant to a harsh reality, or it has always been a tenuous dream that will soon dissipate when the slumber is lifted?

*Rant: Urgh, another terrible case erupted. This is going to be another annoying week for me.

Currently Reading The Darksteel Eye (Magic the Gathering: Mirrodin Cycle, Book 2) By Jess Lebow see related

Jewels of Our Soul

Monday, September the 26th, 2005

This is unusual for me, but lately, I've been in a slump. There are too many events, too many happenings for me to grasp each's significance appropriately. There are problems, derogations, and replies that I have to do. I do not blame them; this is but one of the things that we humans will face when we walk the tapestries of life.

However, one thing that amazes me even now is how I survive through the madness and tintinnabulation that chaotically revolved around me. Fascinating, really, how I passed the days without even the slightest acknowledgement of what had transpired. Events and occurrences unfold and refold like the refulgent petals of the rose, but the thorns they hide beneath gentle petals sting and cut. If not for the jewels of my soul, who constantly shine and elucidate the darkness creeping upon me, I doubt I could stay sane and composed as I am now.

There's no word to express how thankful I am to them. They did what they did without asking for anything in return. Altruism is thus the highest form of humanity, quite lost to those who've floundered from the traditions of our ancestors.

I did say there's no word to express my gratitude, but indeed, inspiration struck so suddenly that the phrases and clauses form grand notes worthy for their deeds. Let me begin, without further ado:

Historians studied it,

But it proved fruitless.

Archaeologists dug for it,

But it eluded them.

Scholars touched it,

But it escaped them.

Geniuses worked on it,

But found no formulae within.

Inasmuch as the world revolves around the sun,

We revolve about the world.

And in the world, we have kindred spirits

Who share the world and work it

Just as the Creator shaped and created the world.

Many say the spirits are phantoms,

Who escaped under the blanket of darkness.

Many still, claim them as opportunists,

Who seek help but never return them.

Others are confounded,

For they call the spirits as fleeting images

And concrete personae

Who come and go

Like the ebb and flow of the river.

However, there were not really such phantasms

Who were but figments of men’s rich imaginations.

Truly, they exist,

But only to those who can

See, listen, taste, sense, admire

Heed, fond, adore, care, and love them.

For we are as much as they are

Without the feelings of mutual existences

That void the emotions

Of our heart and mind.

They are jewels indeed,

Precious, rare

Gleaming surreptitiously

Under the ground that hid them

From the sight of those who are blind.

When found, they are deemed useless,

For they are flawed and imperfect,

With cracks and fissures

That marred the beautiful gems

So hardly found in the face of the earth.

Thus, the spirits come and go

Until they find someone

Who shares their sight and their vision,

Who keeps them warm despite weaknesses,

Who casts them in glorious refulgence

To those who do not know

How to appreciate.

In return, the spirits bless them

Giving hope and encouragement

Providing advice and counsel

Protecting them from danger and harm.

There are flaws, true,

But flaws that can be corrected.

There are fissures, true,

But fissures that can be mended.

Forasmuch as they were destined to be such

We deserve no better than them,

For we, too, are ourselves flawed and imperfect.

Dream the love,

Love the dream,

For in the dream,

Are the unity of the spirits.

Dream the love,

Love the dream,

For in the dream,

Are the banishment of fears and nightmares.

Dream the love,

Love the dream,

For in the dream,

The spirits cheer and boo,

Applaud and jeer,

Smile and hate.

Which, thus, are the spirits of our choice?

All of them are spirits of our choice,

For the Creator made them flawed and cracked,

Just like what he made us to be.

But, in the imperfections that dominate the surface,

Are the grand resplendence of the spirits

Which is the only answer to the question before.

Who possess, thus, the ability to perceive the radiance?

We all do,

For the stars are created without twinkles,

The moon without its argent light.

But, they still shine,

For they are the jewels of our heart,

Kindred spirits of our souls,

And the keepers of our innermost secrets.

Open your hearts,

Reveal your souls,

For they are a part of you,

And you a part of them.

Appreciate them you must,

Be it flawed,

Be it imperfect,

For without them,

You are lost,

Like the vagrant winds,

Who parted from the breeze,

That swept the flowing prairies,

That mingled with the lush forests,

Bringing news and knowledge,

Bringing hope and courage,

Bringing dreams and answers,

To the emptiness around you.

Come now, friends,

And answer this question:

“Who might these important spirits be?”

“Who else,” came the answer,

“but the wonderful friends of ours?”

-- Jewels of Our Soul, PhoenixFlare

Currently Reading The Moons of Mirrodin (Magic: The Gathering) By Will McDermott see related

Of Yin and Yang

Monday, September the 19th, 2005

Oh well, I just discovered that Xanga has its own tracker for the time of a new Web Log entry, and I was idiotic enough to type in another line just for the date. Talk about computer illiteracy, and I'm sure I'm at the pinnacle of it all. I dabble in computer languages, true, like the Hypertext Markup Language (HTML) and C++ Programming Language, but these do not ensure that I'm able to know indepth about the rest of the languages available in the world. That is, my knowledge is very much, sadly, limited.

And speaking of limits, my superstitious knowledge (driven and inspired somewhat by my obsession with things fantastic and magical, as well as watching too much Chinese dramas on television) has been affirmed these recent days, with events that evolve around me both directly and indirectly. One of the most basic conceptions of the world that I have (and hopefully it's like what others believe, if not, that means that I'm too naive and immature in my perceptions of the world, or worse, I've been totally wrong in the first place) is that every action that we take or decide to take has its consequence and particular impact in the near future. One does not do something without getting something back in return (and in which the return may vary from physical to abstract things).

Simplistically speaking, Yin and Yang do exist in the world.

Well, I'm not too sure what gives me the idea of Yin and Yang in the first place; it could be from a movie, a book, or a sudden insight into this startlingly amazing perception, that, without fail, predicts the outcomes one might get from his or her actions alone. History books mention that Yin and Yang came from Taoism, but I'm not a Taoist (at least, not purely). Some say it was a doctrine from Confucius, but I've never learnt about Confucianism before (at least, not as deep as theologists and religious figures). In any case, Yin and Yang become firmly attached to my mind as I observed the events that unfold in the world around me.

Life ends with death; death begets life - a simple, yet extraordinarily fruitful adage that proves to be true. My aunt was recently diagnosed with a terminal cancer in the uterian channel (this was, at least, the information given by the doctor who checked her up). Yes, very sudden, very deadly this cancer is. She suffered quite a bit, the cancer ending her up in a coma that led her to receive treatment in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU), whereby the doctors operated her to remove the malignant tissues. Everyone was appalled, silent, praying, sobbing conspicuously. I was not there, fortunately, for I was doing my examinations at that time, but I was updated by my family when I returned home (and when I visited her today).

That was such a spoiler, but yes, she did not pass away. Apparently, the doctors had been able to remove the critical tissues successfully, but she was to be kept in check to ensure that the cancerous cells do not strike again, and that she was to undergo chemotherapy to destroy the cells completely.

The question lies not in the therapy in which she had to undergo, but in her will to fight off the coma and return to the living world after so many had failed. For the first week of the medical checkup, the doctor had been unable to do anything to her, since she was having a rapidly palpitating heart (more than a normal human's), and that she was not strong enough, immunity-wise. So, she had to stay in the hospital while the doctor find a suitable time to do a thorough checkup on her.

During the excruciating stay in the hospital (she hardly could move, had constant stomach pain, partially insomniac, had to be supported to go to the restroom, and, fascinatingly, dreamt of "little ghosts beckoning to her" in the ICU ward - yes, the "call of the dead"), her husband and children took care of her. Her eldest daughter, about one year older than me, perhaps contributed the most to her recovery. She is still studying, of course, and has a part-time job as a direct-selling personnel for the company named DXN (you probably have heard of this), that sells health foods and products.

She took particular care of her, attending to all her needs and requirements in her disabled state. Sometimes, she slept over in the hospital and looked after her, and woke up at exactly the same time her mother did. She was to have examinations soon, like me, but she preferred to stay with her mother. Additionally, she persuaded her to take the health food known as Lingzhi to promote her health and that could kill cancerous cells. Her mother refused at first, disbelieving her claims that it could help her much better than Western medicines. It was a tough time for her and her mother, and she was frustrated and saddened at times when her mother decided to trust another person in nutrition than her. Fortunately, she confided in my mother of whom is of some repute with the same health product (though of different brand), and my mother advised her.

It was perhaps fate's kindness that finally persuaded her mother to take the health product. Initially, it caused some adverse effects (known as vertigo reactions), such as extreme dizziness, increased heart palpitation, and others (and not to mention the terrible smell of drinking a large cup of the health potion, brewed by using 10 to 20 or so pills that have been opened to remove the grains of Lingzhi within - yes, it's very bitter), but eventually, the effects subsided, and her mother could drink without much hesitation anymore.

And it was also perhaps fate's cruelty to set her mother under a coma, where she was suddenly suffering a terrible attack by the cancer cells, and the doctors had to operate her immediately. During the ordeal, everyone was apprehensive of the results, for the doctors could not guarantee her safety should she be unable to pass through tonight. I daresay, however, that her daughter's filial heart and devotion to her mother moved and touched the god's judgment, in which the Almighty One decided to favor her mother and save her from the cold grip of death. She passed through all right, and was soon recovering from the operation. She then underwent chemotherapy (which, for some, was an incredibly terrible experience) and was not as unhealthy as she was previously.

She's still under probation, though, but we're relieved that her conditions are not critical anymore.

That went well, didn't it? The daughter saved her mother just by being pure of heart and praying for her mother's safety, and the god granted her wish by sealing death's door when it was so close enough to reach her mother. The mechanisms of Yin and Yang enthralled me - for every right things we do, we're blessed a thousandfold; it is the reverse for every devious intentions we have in mind.

I shall etch this experience in mind, for it might benefit me in the future. Chaos and order, life and death, fire and water, earth and heaven, good and evil - the balance of Yin and Yang in harmony.