Fractured thalamus, solven dreams.

The kind of pain we go through daily is immense yet quiet.
We have no true way of expressing without feeling lost.
Like being blown off our feet by nothing more than a simple whisper.

Holding so much within.
Its a miracle we all don't just explode into tiny pieces.
Could it be maybe from guilt?
Feeling that we should be stronger?
Wiser?
Better?

Does it have to make senses?
Does anything have to be so well defined?

My mind yearns for a realized path.
A release from the chains of ignorance.
Yet it fears it as well.
Fear that is not entirely baseless.

Look what knowledge brought to Adam & Eve?
Banishment.
Exile from Eden.
The place of ultimate peace.
Our haven from it all.

Is knowing really better?
My mind argues with itself for the answer.
I doubt there will ever be one.

Sponge bob ....

Have you ever been in a situation where you are being strip search with another person's eyes alone?

If you are a beautiful girl or a handsome man, maybe that happens a lot and you are used to it.

But me, I am your common everyday fungi that hold nothing interesting visually what so ever.
If you were to see me in person, you eyes would have just slink away to something else without even knowing it.

So if and when people were to pay attention to me, two things come to mind.
Firstly, what in the world is she looking at?
The second would be "Is my fly undone?"

Thus we start with my newest dilemma.
Why am I attracting people’s attention?

Now if this were to happen once within a day, I would say "just a coincidence".

But when it happens several times in a day for a few consecutive weeks.
That becomes something of a problem.

Did I mention that it has escalated to the point where I was groped in public?
I shit you not.
I have NEVER been groped by a stranger before.
NEVER.
I don't even get groped by my wife and especially not in a public area.

And yet it happened.

This is the kind of thing that happens in a movie but not real life.

So why is it happening to me?

Yes, it was just the once and I COULD be paranoid.

But what if I told you that people have been "exposing" themselves to me knowing full well that I had 100% access to the visual candy.
And it has happen twice under different circumstances, during different time and day.

The most recent one being this morning.

Like all working days, I take the Light Rail to work.
It’s convenient and allows me the time I need to catch up on my reading.
The traffic was normal and it was moderately packed.

So there I was dutifully reading "Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief" when this young nubile girl suddenly appeared in front of me.
The place where I was standing is not exactly the most comfortable one within the train so it’s less crowded as people tend to avoid it.
Normally my neighbors would be young kids or old geezers who do not want to be bothered.
So imagine my surprise when she showed up.

She is what I term a looker.
Someone who will definitely capture male radars.
Wearing a light colored shirt, a bluish skirt and a black DELL bag over her shoulder.
The shirt was what you will call "flexible" and could be made to expose or hide her goods at will.
And in this case, it was set to expose.
Full exposure.
I could see right down her cleavage and her pink bra.
The best part was that the view was meant for me alone.

If you were to stand beside her, her shirt would block the view nicely.

Now you can still say that I paranoid.
I mean, girls have always dressed to make statements.
"I am sexy"
"I am beautiful"
"I am not yours"
The kind that I am used to.
But this one was very different.

What if I told you that she looked at me directly and smiled?
Yep.
Smiled.
The kind that one gets when you are invited over for coffee and more.

What did I do?
I blushed, or course.
Deep dark red blushing.
I must have looked like a Christmas light bulb.

She noticed and did a giggle.
Which made me go redder.

Blood was coursing my veins in speeds too fast for my comfort.
My brain would be mashed if I did not control my breathing soon.
So I purposely put my ring finger in front of her while pretending to shift my book and smiled back.

She saw at the ring and looked back up as if saying "So? What’s the problem?"

It’s been a while since I had been in the game.
But I am pretty sure I have NEVER been approached this way before.
Maybe if I was still single, I would have taken it up.
But as it stands now, my heart belongs to my other half.

So I did what I always do.
I walked away.

I shifted my body away from her and moved towards the other end of the cabin.
Got off in the next stopped, which incidentally was the one before I intended, and walked the rest of my way to work.
Letting the warm morning sun burn away the tension that set between my legs.

I hope these stops soon.
My pants are killing me.

Anal retention control ...

News Bulletin.

Every principle credit card is now required to pay RM50 to the government as service charge.

That means if you are like me you will be paying an extra of RM300 for the privilege of owning 6 credit cards.

Don't get why I need so many of them?

Most of my cards have specific roles to play.

I have one card for internet purchases.
I have one card for fuel/petrol purchases.
I have one card for my monthly expenses.
I have one card for my every day usage.
I have two cards as backup for emergency usage which requires more than RM10k swipes.

So now that there is this RM50 surcharge requirement, I will be forced to throw my backups away.

Maybe combine my internet and fuel purchases into one card.

So I end up needing at least 3 cards to better control fraud possibilities.

What a pain.

But this of course is my own fault.
Banks don't really like me for my practices.
As I pay off all my bills every month.
They don't get to catch me with interest fees.
Mainly because of this practice of mine, all my expenses are easy to keep track of.
And I know where exactly the problem lies whenever it happens.

Nope.
Banks never like me.
I am too anal retentive for their liking.

Hit the enter key ...

Setting goals and meeting them.
Its easier said than done.
There so many self help books out there addressing these issues that so much so the books themselves are the issue.
With so many advice which one of them is the one that is correct?

At least thats what a normal human being will end up doing.
Doubting themselves even more before they even begin on the path to recovery.

So what is this thing that stop us from being more?

Fear?
Laziness?
Faithless?

Notice that I don't even mention words like depression, stress or confusion.
Thats because I do not believe that they are cause, rather they are merely symptoms of the illness itself.
Yes illness.

Not the kind that the general practitioners look at.
Nor is it the kind that the 100 dollar per session psychiatrist version.
But it is an illness none the less.
An illness of the heart and not of the mind.

Without properly diagnosing the illness, the cause won't surface.
And I speak from experience when I say that people who do not live their life fulfilled are not those that are simple minded.
They have high IQ's.
The can even have high EQ's.
But it won't be enough.
Smarts have nothing on this.

We are in the situation where a person who knows what they should do and how to do it without the "heart" to carry it out.
There is no fuel to push them onwards.
There is no will to go on.

If people paid attention to the statistics in the world, I am sure they will find that the numbers of suicides and divorces are getting higher and higher by the day.

They say its a social disorder that infects the weaker within the population.
And they are not far off from the mark.
The truth of the matter is that people just gave up on their life because they have nothing to live for.
The daily grind literally grinds the living out of us.
The heart is crushed and spit on without any sign of ever slowing down.

Its as if we no longer matter.

Where has the will gone?
Where has our heart wandered off?

Thats where faith has come and saved me.
Yes, faith.
Those of you who thinks that I am talking about religion is only half right.
Faith is about believing in something.
Some believe strongly upon themselves, we call them egomaniacs.
Some believe strongly upon religion, we call them fanatics.
Some believe strongly upon science, we call them squints.
And these are the people who gets things done.
Primarily because they have the "fuel" required to move pass obstacles.

I am a man of faith.
I believe in GOD, Science and myself.
So I can be labeled as a fanatical-ego-manic squint.
Its not too hard to imagine me taking up a sword and just bulldozing my way through life and all its obstacles.
Its not even hard to accept that I don't take no for an answer other than those that comes from my wife.

So what is my point?
What is the moral of this post?
I am not sure.
This is from one of my theraphatic writing exercise in which I just put whatever is in my mind into words.

Maybe I just wanted a reason to explain why I get angry at people who keep telling me that things can't be done.

Yaba daba dooo ....

It’s been a while since I last posted beautiful people on the blog.
Of course it’s not because I don't see them anymore.
But rather, I don't want people to take this site as a girls-r-us venue.

That being said, here is today's contribution to world peace.



I see her often.

I am also pretty sure that she has appeared on my blog before but I can't seem to find her.

She has had some changes to her.
Now a day she looks more womanly, less girl next door.
Maybe it’s the make up.
Or she found a good man to satisfy her both emotionally and physically.

She is not glowing though.
But she seems to be close to it.
Best of luck to her.

Should I give her a nick name?
I mean, constantly avoiding the usage of a name during a sentence is quite tiring.
And only referring to her as "her" is strange after a while.

But what name would be suitable?
Betty?
Patricia?
Diana?
Francine?
Delma?

Or Sheila?
She does look like a Sheila.
I have known a few Sheila's that she reminds me of.

Maybe I should just stick with Pretty Girl #5.

Or just simply her will be enough.

It should just work ...

You can often hear me say the above phrase these days where ever I go.

The phrase is really asking for pain.

Why?

Because nothing is ever going to "just work".

But I do believe it to be so.

I know it’s irrational to do so, yet I persist on the notion none the less.
Good old donkey stubbornness.

My boss has given me a lot of grief over it.
Maybe that’s why my credibility with him is so low.
He questions my judgment on this.
As we had yet to have anything "just work".

So again, the question begs to be asked.
"Why say it then?"

Because it SHOULD just work.

That’s my dream.
That’s the way I want it to be for real.
Not just a phrase.
But a true begotten fact.

I want this to be a fact whenever I am within the picture.
Things should just work because we put in the effort to make it work.
And not pray that it does not fail.
The confidence is within our ability to deliver.
So when we say that things "should just work", it will just work.

Take it from me.
When people don't believe in us, it’s ok.
It is only when we give up on ourselves that is when true tragedy begins.

How to talk to ourselves ...

Its now coming to the mid of the October month.
I look back into the few weeks before only to be surprised how much has changed.
I am less tense.
Less irritated with everything.

One afternoon with a new diary and a new pen can do wonders.
Pouring out all my fears and thoughts on to paper.
Taking away the inhibition to hide behind the shadows of doubt.
A humbling experience.

Not the first time I did this.
And I doubt it will be my last as well.
That’s part of life, I suppose.
Ups and downs.
Like a roller coaster ride.
Hanging tightly onto our seats.
Praying that the stress don't throw us out of our skins.

Tempting as it might be for me.
I denied the shadow its victory for now.
A never ending fight.
Clinging to a sense of sanity.

Eve might have had it slightly better me.
With the serpent only tempting it with one fruit.
Mine seem to be everywhere and everything.
Or maybe it’s the same after all.
It is luring with one big temptation.

"Souls are overrated", it says.
"You need not hold on so tightly", it sings.
"Do you even know what it is?” it questions.
"Have you any use for it?” it pokes.

Tethering between one darkness and another.
It puts the hook where you least expect it.
Thinking that we are doing good.
We end up digging a deeper hole to bury ourselves.

Once a while though, we catch a break.
Like the sirens of the sea that sings to the sailors.
Angels come and knock some sense into our flawed minds.

"Foolish man, do you know nothing", she says.
"Have you no sense that He loves you above all things?” she wails.
"What must happen before you open your eyes?” she pleads.
"When are you coming back to His kingdom?” she whispers.

Take this as it is.
It’s not a sermon.
It’s not a prayer.
Its not preach.
I was lost and He came for me.
Of course the truth is that He never left.
Only that I was too blind to see it.

He waited patiently.
He still waits patiently.

Everyone thinks that I am talking nonsense.
That I have lost my individuality.
I was a man of science.
Now I am a foolish believer.

"What has become of you?” they ask.
"Why did you turn away from reason?” they shout.
"Is it worth it to give up your self?" they pushed for more.
"Are you happy now?” they wondered out loud.

I am what I am.
Has always been.
Will always be.
I did not turn away.
I did not loose my will.
I am still a man of science.
I just appreciate it more than I had before.

Live your life.
Live it because it’s the only one you have.

Prelude - Pebbles in the dream

The many things that come into mind are often those that make no sense.
Like little glimpse of images that is part of a bigger picture but in itself says nothing at all.
Some say that only that with the eyes of prophet’s do those lights come together with meaning.

How many mortals often wished to have that sight?
To them its power over the common man.
To be able to see beyond, to peer into destiny itself.
What grandeurs that must be.

I am not one of these men.
Not any more.
All I wish for is the simple brush of existence.
The non complexities.

I was not like that years back.
Back when I had the fire of a thousand suns burning within me.
Now all I hold is a single candle that gives light enough so that I don't slip and break my foolish neck.

Did I surrender to the gods?
My will gone with the winds?
I don't think so.

I look back into my journals only to find that I have been slowly changing through the years.
Moving silently but surely away from the lime light.
Standing in the shadows of others so that I can disappear from the sights of roving eyes.
I no longer yearn for acknowledgement.
All I want to do is finish the work.
Preferably without any fan fare or nosey liberals.

At the end of days, all that’s left would be my work.
My name, forgotten through time.
My breath, reused by millions.
My flesh, reborn within nature.
And I am content with that ending.

The end is nigh.
And I shall seek redemption from within.
For I will find no pity from those I chose to save.

From the Journals of Icarus Bara Cornelius
Royal scribe to the 29th Haven Emperor Zachariah Skye

This is one of my many dust piled works that I have done through the years.
It has no back story.
No well formed characters.
Just an idea and a childish dream.

Hold still ...

Its Wednesday again.

It seems that I have fallen into a pattern or posting during the middle of the week.
As if I am accumulating data just so that I can have something to post.
It might be true.
But its not.
I have canned post but I am too interested to put it up.
When I started this, I posted almost daily.
Look at my posting history and you will see.
2 years straight, every day I would put something new up.

Have I over posted myself?

Ran out of topics?

Writers block?

Not true.

The fact of the matter is that I am in a phase of life that has a lot of static events. And I don't mean the repetitive task like eating, shitting and sleeping.

I am talking about my mental event.
The things that I am thinking about has reach a plateau.
A very big flat surface.



My seniors have warmed me about this.
They told me that I would eventually grow out of my "active" state.
Of course they said it when I was 16 and expected my brain to simmer down when I reach 18.
It took me 20 years to slow down.
And even now I am still refusing to let the peddle go.

Why should I let go of dreaming?
Why should I stop being exited over every little thing?
Why should I be afraid of anything foreign?

But maybe I should be be asking something else instead?
Like for instance, "Why am I afraid of slowing down?"

Am I actually afraid of getting old like the rest of my peers?
Afraid that slowing down means I am getting too old to be useful?
Am I becoming irrelevant?

That does seem to be the case.
That fear that I am nobody again.
This is assuming that I am somebody today.

The logic is sound.
The analysis is valid.
But is it true?

I don't think I am anyone of importance now.
Not in the way that could shape the world, anyway.
And I think that bugs me more than anything else.
I have not yet achieve something that I can be proud of.

There is no legacy.
No monument.
Nothing.

And I really do not want to leave without making a mark somewhere.
Is this my arrogance speaking?
Or my inner voice telling me wake up?

Castle and the air ...

Daughter: It was a train wreck.
Father: What happened?
Daughter: Talia.
Father: What’s a talia?

That’s the part of the conversation that caught my eye in the latest episode of Castle.

I have had this type of conversation with some of my friends in the past.
During my uni days as I mentioned in my older postings, I was the "safe guy".
Girls confided with me their relationship problems.
Hell, I am usually the shoulder that gets wet when their boy friends make the mistake.
Now that I think about it, I do play the fatherly figure quite well.
Tall and old-ish looking was my thing.

Does that mean I understand the female specie better?
Hell, no.
I doubt there is a living male who can ever claim that throne.
What they want from me is the idea of a man that they want off me but not me.

Am I making sense?
Simply put, they want the idea of a person like me but from a character that is NOT me.

They usually yearn for an understanding, caring male partner that is flamboyant, sassy and handsome.
I fulfill the understanding and caring part.
But I am definitely not flamboyant, sassy and handsome.

Is there such a person who exists?
I have not met him but I can't really for certain say he does not exist.
But the odds are they are rare and seldom living in a condominium near you.

Most girls complain that their spouses are not caring or that they take them for granted after a while.
Some of the other common things to say are that the boys no longer love them the same way when they first met.
The most used words are "The romance/love has died off"

Is that true?
Maybe.
But my personal observation of these relationships is that the so call romance never existed in the first place.
It was merely an item in the checklist of things to do in order to woo the girl.
You can get it from the "How to get a girl for dummies" book.
There are plenty of advices on what to do in order to get the girl.
And unfortunately for the girls, these moves are nothing more than just an illusion from what is truly underneath.

And you think the girls don't know it?
They do.
With the amount of time I spent comforting these ladies, one thing I know for sure is that they KNOW what they are doing.
But they want to hope that these guys will keep doing it even after the boys cashed in their paychecks.
The sad story is that most stop doing it after the first few months of relationship.
And they will most probably forget that they ever did it six months down the road.

Why?
Because that "person" aren't the real them.
Why bother pretending when you already got what you wanted?

So, I end up mopping up all the tears and picking up all the broken pieces.
They get to do the deed and I clean up the mess.
Do you hear a trace of cynic in my voice?
Maybe because I am fed up with them.
Correction, I WAS fed up with these warped ideas of romance that girls dream of having.

Why would an intelligent, well liked and handsome man bother to be like me?
They have things easy when it comes to girls.
They don't really need to understand girls.
Girls of every height and background would throw themselves to these chaps just because they are physically attractive.
And these guys are not dumb, they are smart people, they know how to play it out.
Saying the right words.
Singing the right songs.
Why invest more than what is needed.
And the girls just lap it all up.

You might feel that I am unfair in these statements.
It’s as if girls can't see past physical beauty.
So in order to be fair, I will say that guys do the same thing as well.
They can't see past the boobs, ass and bouncy hair.

So is this an ugly vs. pretty post?
Nope.
I am just laying the foundation out for what I need to say.

If you want something and you think it’s important, then you should consider the options available to you.

The caring and understanding individuals (be it male or female) are those who are either forced or born with those characteristics.
They are usually very plain looking and shy.
It’s what makes them ... them.
Due to their experience in life which is more or less dictated by their plain looks, they tend to learn up skill sets that will assist them to find success in life.
And it usually falls into the resources that are at hand to them.
That would be time, patients and their mind.
They will take the time to think things true.
To analyze.
To understand it better.
It might start out as a simple question of "Why don’t people like me?"
Or "Why am I always being picked on?"
In order to resolve these fundamental issues, they strive to understand it.
That might eventually lead to a habit that lays the foundation to a caring and passionate individual.

Pretty people seldom need to do it.
And even if they did, it won't be to the extent that is put out by the plain faced.
I have seen it again and again through out my years in school and work place.
We are who we are because of the motivation that drives us.

So I am the guy that girls love to be around when they need a friend but not a lover.
And because of that I see things differently from most other boys.
I learned that I want a girl that can see me for who I am and not who they want me to be.
I chose to give my life to that person fully and without hesitation.
Mostly I learned that I should stop dreaming about pretty faces and bodacious curves.
Because at the end of the day, I am seeking a soul mate and not a visual prop.

Maybe that’s why I worship my wife so much.
She has everything that I want and more.
My goddess.
My love of life.