How I became a wife worshipper ...

What happens when you see a beautiful woman?

You look.
Like all things beautiful, we will always look.
Women look at handsome man and colorful dresses.
Man will look at beautiful woman and skimpy dresses.
We all look.

Some look longer than others.
Some fantasized with what they see.
Some even go the extra mile and ask for their contact information.

And that’s what happen to me when I was 13 years old.

I saw something beautiful and I acted.

Of course you can guess by the fact that I am blogging about it, it will end drastically for the author hence the blogging value of it.

It was the first year of middle school.
I left my friends in my primary school and went venturing into a notorious private school in my home town.

If you followed my blogs from the beginning, you will notice that I tend to always make this kind of decision with my life.
Leaving familiar place and people to move into foreign places.
To taste a different kind of life.
Now looking back, it was a childish notion, as no matter what decisions I made, it would have been new to me.
But as of that time, it was what cross my mind when I told mom that I wanted to enroll into the private institution.

Back to the story.

I was a stranger in a strange land.
Alone.
No friends.
No familiar faces.
Nothing that I can cling to for security.

So I did what any mortals under that situation did.
I hid myself at the back of the class room in a corner seat where no one will be likely to bother or notice me.
How wrong I was.
A pudgy kid walked up, placed himself on the seat beside me and said "This is the best seat in the house"

I was not very comfortable of course, I wanted to be hidden.
Why is this kid making it so hard to do that?

"Hi my name is Goh. What’s your name?"

I looked at him and stammered my name out.

"Nice to meet you. Hey do you know that there are roughly 146 steps on the stairs up to our school?"
I shake my head.
He rambled on with a lot more information that I knew nothing about, conveniently ignoring the fact that I never asked about them in the first place.
And that was how I met my first friend in middle school.

You might still be wondering when I will get to the part where the beautiful girls become a subject.
Well, now would be the time.

In between the part where Goh was telling me the fact that the library is located 3 stories too high from the ground, she appeared.
Walking in with a group of other girls and they sat down in the middle of the class rooms.
I could not take my eyes off her.
She was stunning.
Her hair cut to the school regulations fitted her very well.
Framing her eyes and mouth to the exact proportion that made her just irresistible to the eye.

Goh eventually noticed that I was not paying attention to him and seek out the reason for my distraction.

"Oh. Her. She’s out of your league little boy. I hear a senior has already started to ask her out."

A senior? It’s the first day of school. How in the world did a senior get to her before any of us?

As if sensing my ignorance, Goh went on to explain.

"She stays in the school hostel."
"A native to the state of Pahang. So she's been here at school for the last 1 plus week."
"The senior I mentioned lives at the dorm as well."
"As I said, she is out of your league"

Skeptical was the look I gave him.

"And how would you know that?" I asked.

"Oh, didn't I tell you? I am from Selangor and I am staying in the school hostel for the time being."

And so that was how I started my path to oblivion.

Days pass.
Weeks pass before I finally gathered enough courage to even walk near her.
It was in the middle of the second semesters that I decided that I should do something to make her know how I feel.

Thus I hatch a plan of writing a letter to show my appreciation of her beauty.
It was not a love letter per se, just a letter of admiration.
But to a kid at that age, that was equivalent to writing the declaration of independence.

Neatly I folded the 2 page letter and put it into a white envelope.
During recess time, I secretly left it in her drawer and then I ran.

I kept away from the classroom for the remainder of the recess.
Even when the school bell rang, indicating the end of the rest period, I dragged my feet all the way back to the classroom.
And I should have listened to my instinct.

When I walked into the door, the whole class erupted in laughter.

"That’s him. He wrote it."
"How stupid."
"Who does he think he is anyway?"
And many more comments that did not help diminished my embarrassment.

How did everyone know?
It was a private letter.

Then I saw it.

The letters was pinned inside the glass notice board.

How did it end up there?

Only the class monitor had the key to that.

And she was the class monitor.

It took me a while to put all the logic together.

She put it there.

The object of my admiration had humiliated me in front of my whole class.

To say that my world came crumbling down is an understatement.

It was obliterated.

I slinked back to my seat and hid myself behind an upside down text book.

Tears never came.
But the heart hurt like hell, it was burned with an iron brand.

Since the letter incident, Goh kept his distance from me.
The whole class kept their distance from me.
Since she was the center of popularity, I was shunned as the golem in the lord of the rings books.

My grades declined to a state that after my first year, I fell 2 classes down and was moved to the less "hopeful" bunch.
This ended my time of misery in the upper classes.
To them I was just another kid and they took me in with no questions asked.
Of course they knew about the incident but they cared no more about it then the books they held in their hands.

It was then that I understood the difference.

Eventually, my grades picked up again and I moved back into the upper class.
I was still the misfit.
I was not the cream of the lot, but I do well in what I do.
So they put up with me.
Most of the time, I slink back to my friends in the lower classes just to feel normal.

I can safely say the small incident that no one but me will ever remember shaped my mind in a manner that defined almost everything that I do since.

So today, I am who I am because I understand the difference between others and me.

And I know where my loyalties are.

I look but I don't touch.
If I touch, I wear gloves.
If I am confident, I open up a door.
If they walk in, they get a chance.
If they prove worthy, they get more than my heart.
I will give them everything that is mine and more.

Now you understand a little more about why I love my wife the way I do.

The beholder ...

No, I don't know who she is.

I found her pic on a blog that I visited.

The reason why she is here now?

Because she reminds me of a girl that I once know during high school.

She was one of the "popular" group.

I was not invited to that party.

But for some very strange reason, she was a close friend of mine.

Its been years since I last saw her.

I believe she married into the world of the rich & famous and divorced shortly after with a baby girl in hand.

Sometimes I wonder if its a curse to be that beautiful.
They can't seem to find the kind of people that will love them properly.
Or should I say they can't seem to attract the kind that appreciates them the way they should be.

Spoken like a through "outsider".
I will forever be one of the ones admiring into the garden.

Oh, wait...
My mistake.

I apparently married one of the most beautiful woman in the world.

How come I am still so crazy about my wife after so long?
Maybe there is love in this world after all.

Doing it my way ...

There is this thing called a creative block which all writers young and old fear more than death itself.

It feels like the well is dry and all that is left is the lingering mirage of where the mojo used to reside.

Well, it’s really not true at all.
There is no such thing as a creative block.
My hero MM will beg to differ of course as he has been suffering from a slight set back in his delivery datelines.

The only ever block that any writer faces is that of a road block which every mortal human faces in our days of urgency to reach a destination.

Every time during my creative writing process I face the issue of a blank wall.
That means, I might have a topic and I won't know where to start.
Or I might not even have a topic at all and face the cruel curse of staring at a blank screen for hours.
At least that’s what might have happened if I did not know how to handle the blank wall.

You see, I paint the wall so that it’s no longer blank.

Does that mean that I resolved the blank wall issue?
Yes and No.

Let’s start with the part that I term as "No"
If I did not resolve the issue, doesn’t that mean I am still having that thing I say did not exist?
Well, that is true.
The wall is there but it’s no longer the same wall as it was before.
It’s now a wall of ideas.

I did not solve the problem because I still have not removed the wall itself but I found a way to incorporate it into my creative work.

Let me give you an example.

I started my blog on Wisdom For Free (hence forth known as WFF) thinking that I will base it on the occasional insights I gained while creating postings here at 12AM.
But the more I posted here, the more that I found that I don't have much to contribute into the WFF column.
So at the end I mostly double posted my columns in here and over there, as and when it fitted both the site themes.
It got me no where and I ended up keeping the site but stopped posting anything significant to WFF.

Later on when I found THE WRITER, he gave me the solution to what I needed for WFF.
He did it with POST IT notes.
I did it with DISPOSABLES TISSUES.
Well in reality I used everything that I can doodle in.

While coming up with ideas to post, I tend to doodle on my tissues to lay out my ideas.
I would put phrases on several of them and then move them around the table to see if something makes sense.
That’s me addressing my wall.
Finding a weak point so that I can puncture its defenses.

I almost always find something worth while to write about and pen it down in my paper notebook.
And that is how I create articles.
So what happens to the tissues?
They get wrapped up with the leftovers and dumped.

Yet now, they serve a larger purpose.
No longer condemned to a life of insignificance.
They become my creative wall for my endeavors in WFF.
WFF has so many topics lined up that I sometimes wonder if I can finish them all.

So the "YES" part is simple.
By taking these ideas that I created while figuring out how best to remove each obstacle.
I ended up transforming the wall that blocked me into an instrument that propelled me instead.

It shares the same concept to the saying "Make lemonade out of the lemons we get."

Will I solve the issue that the blank wall created in the first place?
The answer will always end up as yes, because once we start pursuing the alternate path, we tend to find that we end up at the same destination anyway.

After reading all this.
You still feel confuse?

Let’s do the 10 second course then.

If you find that you can't write or create based on the topic you are paid/encouraged/ordered to do.
Then start doing something else instead.
Write about yourself, your neighbor, your dog, you son/daughter, your wife.
Express all the emotions in everything that comes to your mind.
Even a simple "mind dump" will do wonders in putting ourselves in a different perspective.

The reason is simply because that drunken monkey in our head that we call our brain had driven itself into a corner and forgot how to reverse itself out.
We have to help it.

I am sure that I will face a lot more walls that will try to block me.

I am also sure that most of them will seem enormous and threatening.

With a pen in my hand, I am ready.
Ready to paint rainbows on to the wall that blocks my path.
While all the time dancing to the rhythm of Frank Sinatra voice.

God and Facebook ...

I am not trying to be make fun of religion or anything.
But this is really hilarious.

Note:
If I offended anyone with this please forgive my sense of humour.
It has never understood its true calling.

Do you see what I see?

There are so many things that we do which we don't really agree or understand.
For instance the concept of investments.

What is an investment really?

Its none other than the simple term of putting money into a company in which we pray will give us a profitable outcome.

Now that we have pinned that definition, what is the difference between an investment and a game of roulette?

Nothing really.

The basic mechanics are the same.

But we have to acknowledge that they do have their differences.

In an investment, we study the companies past actions and their decision making process.
We evaluate the company's potential in which that is what we are investing on.
Their potential for growth.
It’s not simply just a throw of a dice and hope that it lands on the number we bet on.
A potential is a much more complicated matrix to be understood.
And it’s more potent in its trajectory.

I can't seem to run away from this nagging feeling in me that says no matter what kind of educated analysis we have on any investment, we are still betting that the individuals running it actually know what they are doing with our money.

One would assume that they have more riding on their company than us puny little investors, but the reality is much harsher.
They too are exposed to the extreme circumstance we call the global economy.
It is not something that any one person can manipulate, let alone predict its trend and ride it.

They too place their bets on what they feel to be good investments strategies.
Importing of certain goods or production on a particular line of products might yield a higher return based on expert analysis on market trends and economic undercurrents. Professional terms that basically means a very "EDUCATED" guess.

So to my simple mind, the kind of risk when I put a bet on a roulette table or the share market is inevitably the same.

It will always be outside of my control and I can only hope that my "EDUCATED" guess does not land me in the shit holes.

As for the picture above?
Do you see what I see?
I'll give you a hint.
Look at the flag in the middle.

And the relevance of the pic and the post?
Everything.

And so this is the Jet Plane ...

It was just like any other trip I took.
A little earlier than most maybe, but mostly the same.

Had to be in the cab to the airport by 6AM
Check-In time was 7AM hence the early flight.

My boss always said that there was no need to check in so early, as the plane will always wait for us.
But me being the pessimistic guy that I am, I am always early and perform the check in procedure as soon as possible.
Though this time I did differ from my norm, where after I checked in, I did not go through customs immediately.

The wife unit said that its much more enjoyable OUTSIDE of customs where the food are plentiful and basically more relaxing then being cooped up in the tax free zones.

So like the obedient partner that I am, we ended up having breakfast at KLIA McDonalds where the food is 15% more expensive than their counterpart outside of KLIA.

I was kind a surprised when they put a total of FOUR banana pies on my tray before pushing off in order to attend the customer after me.
Apparently they still have the promotion that provides TWO banana pies for each Breakfast meal.
A marketing strategy that is trying to entice more people to consume their mouth watering pies.
And it seems to work well enough.

Anyway, the wife unit was a little put off by this and said "How am I going to be able to eat so much pie? Can we give it back?"

Yes, my wife is a very caring person who does not condone the waste of ANYTHING EDIBLE.

But alas, I told her that giving it back would only end up with them having inventory issues and no amounts of grief when they try to reconcile their numbers.

So instead of giving it back, we decided to put it to good use and donated two of our stash it to the nice elderly people sitting next to our table.
They thank us graciously with hand signals and flirting eyes.
I blushed profusely.

The fact that I and my wife only ate ONE pie, we ended up having one extra.
And I had to do this.



It’s not exactly Tissue Wisdom but it will have to do.
Who does not like Free Pies?

So with the pie left to its demise, we went through customs and made for our flight.

With just 9 months ago being in the exact type of plane, we were veterans when it came to going to our seats and buckling in.
The in flight announcement came and showed us how to evade death by blowing on safety jackets and ringing the whistles.
In which we were then allowed to enjoy the next 8 hours with their remarkably enjoying in flight entertainments.

I could not help myself but think that we have made a good choice for our flight carrier.
So I decided to leave this behind for anyone who boards on after us.



Do I believe that MAS is actually safe?
It might surprise some of you but I do believe that MAS is one of the safest planes to fly on.
I am after all Malaysian.
And I always believe that Malaysians will not screw up anything that has a possibility of Mat Salleh's using them.

Did I mention before that I am all for 1Malaysia?

Gold Coast 2009 - A Preface ...

Sorry for the long delay in posting but I have been busy integrating my mind back into the working game.
Frankly speaking, I think I am still stuck somewhere in surfers paradise.

There really isn't much to talk about on this trip.
We took it easy.
No rushing.
No strict time table.
No waking up very early to catch the morning sunrise.

It was just me, my wife and a whole lot of beaches.

The one thing that stuck in my mind through the whole holiday is that I don't mind moving down here to retire.

Yes, the bikini clad babes was a bonus to what I might get if I was to move down south.
But it’s not a huge reason for me to want to stay in Gold Coast.
It’s really because the whole place is serene.
Yeap, for a city (more like a big town) it has a feel of serenity that is seldom found for its kind of size.

The whole time I was there, I kept telling my wife that the air there smelled "green".
It’s not the same as Tasmania.
Tassi had a whole "Lord of the Rings" shire feel to it.
What the coast had was a peaceful aura around it.
Maybe the lack of heavy traffic on its streets contributed to that picture as well.

Another thing that I notice at GC is that there are a lot of Asians within the community.
And I don't mean just the Chinese population.
There are Koreans, Japanese, Indons, Thai's, Veits and Malaysians all muddled within their streets and shops.
It was like a United Nation Luau.

I even found a restaurant that is named "Kuala Lumpur Seafood Restaurant".
Given the fact that KL is miles away from the nearest coast line, I am wondering why KL seafood would be a hot seller at all.
Yet, the restaurant was packed to the brim.
Kind of surreal to me.

And truth be told, even though there was more than enough scantly clad females strolling along the streets, there was no "pornish" or "sexual" tension at all in the air.
It was just another day on the beachside.
I took a few pics of some nice looking ladies relaxing on the beach, enjoying the full extent of the sun light.

And of course the waves were wicked.
No wonder it is called surfers paradise.
If you understand surfing, you will understand the love of waves.
It’s not easy to surf.
It takes skills, patients and a whole lot of guts.
But once you ride the waves you will know no other love like it.
Please bear in mind that I am not speaking from experience but from what I can understand of when I look at their faces.
These people ARE living in heaven when they are on their boards.

I will be posting more of the trip in the coming days.
This is just a short summary of what is to come.

And yes.
I left a lot of "wisdoms" behind as well.