Life Lessons From... Futsal

Don't interpret too deeply. I just Googled 'soccer'.

All right, so the idea for this post came from Chern Lye's 'Life Lessons I Learnt Playing Counter-Strike Source', which in turn was inspired by a popular online article '7 Life Lessons I Learnt Playing Halo'.

And since I dare not boast of any extensive gaming experience on the World Wide Web, let us instead talk about something more down-to-earth, more humanly, more, more...

PRIMITIVE! Ah, yes. Futsal.

The much-hallowed game of 10 sweaty guys simultaneously trying to put a ball into a goal as often as possible, in as many ways as possible. A game I've been playing almost every Sunday for the past 3 years, sometimes even twice on the Lord's Day itself.

Hit it, monkeys!

Life Lesson #1: Sometimes you need to pass the ball backwards in order to move it forward.

How true! So often I've been guilty of getting the ball, searching in vain for someone open in front to give it to, and try desperately to dribble past the entire defence in hope that a scoring chance would magically appear. Of course, almost every time the ball ends up with the opposition.

But lo and behold! A simple backpass, and immediately oodles of space open up. Players start running here and there into position, the opposition fidgets nervously to stick to them, and the guy with the ball can take his time in picking out a great pass.

Just as in life, many times we keep our eyes only on the things and people ahead, trying to keep up with them. And frustratingly fail over and over. When this happens, often it takes just a backpass to open up your mind. You see new options and perspectives, missed when you were focused solely on dribbling past players one by one.

Life Lesson #2: Passers beat dribblers.

It's happened too many times to be coincidential: Pit a team of 5 mediocre players who pass the ball well against a team of 5 skillful but one-man-show players, and the 5 mediocre players will win almost every time.

And unfortunately, life is a team sport. No matter how fast you can run, or how silkily you can weave the ball through everyone else's legs, there is only so much you can do on your own. A pass is the shortest distance from one end of the field to another.

So pass the ball. Even if the other guy is a mediocre player. He just might slip it back to you.

Life Lesson #3: But there are times to go for glory, too. Decide quickly.

So many times I find myself with the ball, wondering, " Who can I pass it to?". Only when the ball has been snatched away due to hesitation do I realise that I was actually close enough to shoot.

At the end of the day, it doesn't matter whether you passed or kept the ball for yourself. What matters is that you make the choice quickly. Maybe your teammate will screw up your pass. Maybe your shot will end up as a hilarious miskick. But it sure beats losing the ball before you figured out what to do with it.

Life Lesson #4: People can tell if you really, really want the ball.

I used to play solely as a goalkeeper in high school. On those rare occassions I played outfield, I would naturally fancy myself as a lone striker upfront. However, it dawned upon me that no one would pass the ball to me. No matter how clear I was, they would keep dribbling and look for someone else to pass to.

I could argue that it was because my friends knew I was actually a terrible striker. But strangely, players I was playing with for the first time reacted in the same way.

Eventually, I discovered that I never really wanted the ball in the first place. I was content to stand aside and watch the others do all the hard work, blaming them for any shortcomings. Deep down, whenever they had the chance to pass the ball to me, I was really thinking, "No! No! Don't pass it to me! Please!"

So you see, people know if you're worth the ball. Real goal-getters scream at the top of their lungs and wave madly.

Life Lesson #5: No one remembers who played best. They only remember which team won.

I used to track and compare my weekly personal goalscoring count. At the end of every match, the quality of the game was measured by how well I'd played.

Then one week came, when I scored a grand total of zero goals. Hanging my head dejectedly, I sighed to my friend.

"What's wrong?"

"Duh!" I replied. "I didn't score a single goal."

"Oh, really?"

What? He didn't realise it? Didn't he and everyone else cheer for every goal? How could he have not realise that I didn't score?

But it was the truth. Many times we amass our personal trophies and pedestals, expecting others to lavish us with praise. However, as the title goes, no one remembers the best player. They only remember the best results. Praise is good, but let it not be the single motivator of your life. The best players celebrate when they extend a foot to poke the ball into the net, not when they dribble past 3 players, swirl and hit the post.

...And we're done! The start of a highly marketable series, perhaps?

FINALLY! Writer's Block

Off the record, I would hereby like to publicly state that...

RUMOURS OF MY DEATH IN LANGKAWI ARE COMPLETELY UNTRUE.

I have, in fact, been alive and creaking - as scheduled - four days after my Langkawi escapade.

It has been so, so long since I've written, however.

Written anything that isn't a branding proposal, project timeline, website copy, ad copy or VBS drama. No prizes for guessing my favourite pet project of the past month.

Oh yes...VBS drama was fantastic, utterly fantastic. Believe me, I've never felt so proud of anyone in my life before. Even more so than last year, this year's was a truly by-God's-grace affair. Under-staffed, under-talented, over-rated, over-scripted, expectations galore. You name it, the brilliant Inter class conquered it! Even my own working schedule, where I was allowed only 3 half-days. Meaning I would be there from 9am-9.30am for praise and worship, drive to office from 9.30am-10am, work from 10am-1pm, drive back to church from 1pm-1.30pm, rehearse with the monke..oops, children from 1.30pm-3.30pm, cendol-ise from 3.30pm-4.30pm, drive back to office from 4.30pm-7 something. WAH. LAU. WEH!

Though all seemed doom and gloom for the 3 days of rehearsals, with our main man Clement still doubtful about his lines, everyone - and I mean EVERYONE - was pumped up on steroids on the real day. Those who couldn't sing sang, those who couldn't dance danced, those who couldn't act...well, they looked cute trying. Even two girls playing medics, who stood out to Ju Liang and myself as being terribly uninspired, played their roles with more gusto than I could've mustered myself. Pity they forgot their first aid kits.

Here's to you, Inter Class VBS 2007!

And oh yeah...the Special October Feature.

You know what? Coming soon. =p

When I find the time, AND the resolve.

Vacation Time!

Am going away to Langkawi for 4 days, starting tomorrow.

Not that my dear readers may notice anyway, with the embarassing lack of recent updates.

Guilty, guilty, guilty I plead! Work's been a killer lately. I won't say it's overly draining or anything, just that it takes up too much space in my head. I actually have tons of half-written drafts floating around, of which a small percentage gets filtered through to proper drafts. And from that tiny group, we have another select few which get put to paper. Or keyboard. You get the idea.

Say for instance, my Special October Feature. I already had parts of a slam-bam story "Three Days To Live" drafted, but it's been lying there so long it's grown moldy.

I miss writing stories. I really do! Reading the Twisted Tales hardcover book took me back to a happier place, a much more wonderful time when everything was a story or poem waiting to be told.

All ritey then! 4 days of no creative copy. No A&P proposals. No ads. No WIP meetings. No church. No housestuff. Let's hope the floating words find a cosy spot to settle down and form stories.

Fun stuff I need to think about at Langkawi:

1) What to do for the upcoming TU Pyjamas Nite.
2) A GREAT performance for VBS Graduation Day, by the Intermediate Class. Was officially asked today, not that I needed to be. =p
3) And of course, the overdue Special October Feature!

That's it, kiddos. Stay safe!

Just for kicks, here's 'Ultraman Vs Pikachu', a short nonsensical (you've been warned) film some friends and I made a couple of years back:

Happy Birthday To Me!

Before we proceed, let me first give a big MUAKS and TERIMA KAH-SAY! to all who made my 22nd birthday such a memory. Especially dear Wen Cheng, who was nice enough to make me a printed hardcover version of Twisted Tales Volume 1, to make me feel like an accomplished author. Haha. It's great to syok sendiri!

Now available in hard cover! *smiles in glee*

And check out this back-page excerpt Zhi Yong was so kind to provide:

"C.H. Mok, Daniel is the author of the international best sellers as well as numerous other equally interesting but unequally selling short stories, poems and personal accounts of his life stories that both inspire, amuse and entertain to various degrees.

They are available on the world wide web from his personal web log that draws international criticism and acclaim in equal parts. Although irregularly updated, his readers await with bated breath the next chapter of his 'short' stories, listen adoringly to his poems and eagerly consume accounts of his inspiring life that revolves around... cendol, church and baja hitam.

Ok la... actually that guy ah... very nice wan... although he looks like a clown but inside... is also a clown... deeper inside... his life ambition is to be a clown... if u dig deep enough and reach that small little engine that runs the whole body you find out that it's quite warm inside actually. Yeah, nice and warm. And that's what counts."

Anyone sticking around for Volume 2? =p

Stripped Away

Came across this interesting piece last week to share. Hehe don't worry, it's not that sort of 'interesting piece'. =p

Suggestive as it seems, JC's Girls is in fact a Christian ministry dedicated to spreading the word of God to strippers. Yes, strippers.

How did it start? Heather Veitch, herself a former Vegas exotic dancer and porn actress, left the industry and gave herself to Christ in 1999. Working thereafter as a hairdresser, she became a stay-at-home mother and vowed never to keep in touch with her sinful past.

Then one day, and old friend dropped by and shared about one of Heather's girlfriends, whom she used to work with in the strip club. The poor girl had died recently of alcoholism, with no friends or family. At the time of her death, she was dating a man 40 to 50 years older than herself. The only people she had were her fellow stripper girlfriends. At her funeral, they didn't know what to do and poured alcohol over her grave to remember her. Saddened greatly by such a loveless death, Heather's only thought was, "I could have told her about Jesus."

In an interview, Heather details how she once lived a similar lifestyle of sex, drugs, alcohol and emptiness. Making 1200 to 2000 dollars a night was the norm, at the price of constantly pushing away - in vain - hands of men eager to touch and degrade you. She would purposely perform drunk almost every night to dull such pain away.

"It broke my heart, that I know what it's like for that girl. And because I had turned my back on it, I forgot that all my friends are still there. They were still there, and I left. It was like there was a burning house, and I escaped. The house is still on fire, while my friends are still inside, and I'm not willing to go back inside and try to pull them out."

And how could she carry across this message with impact? Having worked in such joints in the past, Heather deduced that if someone came in, bought her time and only wanted to sit down with her and tell her about God's love, she would have been touched. Maybe she wouldn't have made a change there and then, but there was no way she would forget such an encounter with God.

A burning passion to minister to sexual sinners as Jesus did, she gathered a group of girls from church and made their way to a local strip club. Each of them would choose a girl to buy a private dance from. However, unlike any request the strippers had ever received, all these girls wanted to do was pray for them.

Says Lori Albee, another member of JC's Girls about her first experience approaching a stripper:

"I asked a girl for a dance, and she said yes. This girl was adorable - she looked like any girl on a college campus. We started walking back to the booth and she said, "I've never had a girl ask me to dance before." And I said, "I've never asked a girl to dance before."

We were laughing and building a rapport before we even got to the booth, and once we did, I told her, "I really don't want you to dance for me. We're just here because we love you girls and we want you to know that there's a God out there who loves you, too." And she said, "I cannot believe that girls like you would come to a place like this to tell us about God."

I said, "We just want you to know that if you want God in your life, he's there for you. There's nothing you've ever done that's so bad that he would not forgive you." Her eyes instantly started welling with tears, and she went, "Thank you so much. I keep feeling like I want to go into church, but I feel like I'm going to turn into a pillar of fire."

I told her, "Absolutely not. There is nobody in that church who is better than you are. God wants you as much as he wants anybody." I then asked her if I could pray for her, and she said, "Please, pray for me." Then she grabbed my hand, and I just prayed that she would remember this moment in time when God came to her right where she - and that God would protect her, because she's in a dangerous job. That was really it. It was very simple and short - the length of one song, about three minutes.

Amazingly, the girls have been pretty well-received for evangelists. They stirred up quite a buzz lately at a porn convention in Las Vegas, distributing gift-wrapped Bibles, teaser postcards and T-shirts to visitors. All items were snapped up in short time.

What makes JC's Girls such a success? Respect. Having gone through a similar experience, Heather understands the tremendous judgement women in the sex industry receive from Christians. Therefore, she makes it a point to respect their culture of glamour and physical beauty, earning their trust in return. She never expects them to leave their jobs before being allowed to step into church. Rather, they are encouraged to first develop a relationship with God and gradually let Him take charge of their lives. Most times, instead of ending up feeling morally policed, they experience love, forgiveness and salvation.

"If a man owns a hundred sheep, and one of them wanders away, will he not leave the ninety-nine on the hills and go to look for the one that wandered off? And if he find it, I tell you the truth, he is happier about that one sheep than about the ninety-nine that did not wander off. In the same way, your Father in heaven is not willing that any of these little ones should be lost." Matthew 18:12-14

God bless you, JC's Girls!

October

Crap.

I swear, last night I dreamt of an ENTIRE story. Cover to cover. No kidding.

When I woke up, I could only remember bits and pieces. A girl, ping pong balls, a floor with wooden planks. And some holes.

By the time I finished brushing my teeth, the only memory left was some girl dropping some balls. Nothing by the time I started up my computer.

It was like Alzheimer's on fast forward.

But trust me, it was a bestseller.

And it's the splendid month of October. Where great things are supposed to happen at Twisted Tales.

Crap.

Stories Of Naivety

Happy 50th Merdeka to all! Expect a Malaysia-centric post sometime soon, but for now here're some delightful lil' shorts I unknowingly compiled last week.

Story Of Naivety #1:

This cute little boy, not more than 7 years of age, steps into his auntie's lavish bungalow. It is quite obviously his first time in such a big house.

"Wahhh..." he exclaims to his cousins. "Auntie's house is so big and beautiful, it must cost at least 100 bucks."

Story Of Naivety #2:

Another cute little boy, 8 years old, give and take a few years, buys a box of Tora chocolates. You know, those chocolates we ALL bought when we were young, that came with a free toy that always looked SO MUCH BETTER on TV.

If you remember clearly enough, Tora costs 1 ringgit, for both the chocolate and the toy. The time I bought it, they gave this green plastic crab-like top. Quite cool for 8-year-old standards.

And along comes EvilWeaselFriend.

EWF: Wah, your toy so nice lah!
Boy: Yeah...
EWF: I buy it from you, okay or not?
Boy: *mind starts going blank at the thought of making money* How much, how much?
EWF: Hmm...20 sen lah! Can buy a bowl of noodles, you know.
Boy: Yeah...noodles...
EWF: Deal!

And ta-da, the incredible spinning crab was sold for a mere 20 sen. Till the boy's sister yelled at him "You think the chocolates will cost 80 sen kah?" did he come to realise his folly.

Story Of Naivety #3:

On Day One, EWF borrows 20 sen from the same boy. Though more cautious this time around (though not necessarily wiser), he lends it to him. After all, EWF is his best friend and wouldn't suddenly migrate to North Korea over 20 sen.

Day Two:

Boy: So where's my 20 sen?
EWF: *hands him 10 sen* Nah...
Boy: Wait...I lent you 20 sen rite?
EWF: Yeah...so now I give you back 10 sen loh.
Boy: Huh?
EWF: You see...I have lesser 10 sen now, and you lesser 10 sen also rite?
Boy: Mm...yeah. *still feels uneasy*
EWF: It's the same one! Just a different way of counting.
Boy: Okay...

At home...

Sister: WHAT?! HE'S SUPPOSED TO GIVE YOU 20 SEN, YOU MORON!!
Boy: No jie...you don't get it. It's a different way of counting.
Sister: Different your head!! *smacks*

Ah, to be young and gullible with a capital G...

P.S. All the above stories are 100% true accounts. They might or might not have happened to yours truly. Thank you for reading.

The Pewter Lady

Two Saturdays ago I found myself in the Royal Selangor pewter factory with my colleagues. Company outing, don't ask me...

There we were in the musty production line, surrounded by the clings and clangs of deft pewter-shaping hands. Suddenly an unassuming bespectacled Indian lady caught my eye.

And so, in the quaintest of ways, this tale begins.

Have you ever seen those pewter cups with tiny dotted textures completely covering the surface? Amazingly, the dots aren't machine-made. They are actually hand-made.

Our jaws dropped in sheer incredulity at seeing this simple Indian lady hammer away at the cylindrical metal sheet, each nimble stroke leaving an impression, dots forming lines, lines forming rows.

Each dot fell perfectly in place, guided by impossibly accurate timing and force. She was far better than any mock-up artist we'd seen in college or office.

"Hey," I snickered to my colleague. "Imagine doing that eight hours a day, five days a week."

We shuddered in mock fear.

Tok tok tok tok tok. She finally finished one cup. It couldn't have taken her more than three minutes.

Quietly she took a new sheet, wrapped it around the tube mould, and repeated the process. Tok tok tok tok tok. No glancing at the clock. No sighing.

"Kak," we asked. "Sudah kerja berapa lama?"

"Dah sepuluh tahun dik."

Our eyebrows shot up.

We stared at her for a couple more minutes, simply mesmerised at how easily her hands moved. "Berapa lama kak belajar buat ini?"

"Setahun baru mahir."

One whole year! I would've given up after a few days.

Strangely, all the other factory workers were also aunties, some looking no younger than 60. All were equally skilled. Our tour guide explained how they'd worked here for ten, twenty, thirty years. Still, you saw smiles on their faces and joy in working. Whatever part of the process they played, they were eager to craft the best pewter masterpieces to sell. That was because, the tour guide explained, the company treated them well. Though they didn't earn a lot, they were given frequent incentives, trips and recognition.

I couldn't stop thinking: How on earth did these people find the desire to wake up everyday? What drove their lives?

Whatever amazing things we think we do in our lives, they eventually become no more than a fine pewter cup textured with dots. The Indian lady might have been praised the first or second time she completed a perfect cup. But from then on, the only thing she could hope for was to not create an imperfect cup.

We all want to be remembered for eternity. The one who was kind and compassionate. The one who was so talented he could get any job he wanted. The charismatic leader who was respected by thousands. The one who was pretty and everybody's darling.

But just like the pewter lady, our glories all end up as a dotted pewter cup. The people who praise us will one day forget and perish as well.

So how do we be remembered for eternity? By seeking praise from the only One who is eternal. Work hard, serve joyfully, and look forward to someday hearing 'Well done, good and faithful servant". It'll be best words of praise you ever hear. =)

Slumber (Finale)

It was almost 11. I had just finished the longest post in Twisted Tales history, was showering, when...suddenly! Inspiration struck.

And I simply couldn't stop writing. Wouldja believe it, the humble tale of Slumber now gets a nod as one of my finest ever. =)

Slumber (Part 10 of 10)

Little Jenny. Was she still trapped in the dream?

"In today's local news," the radio continued. "Police have arrested Lenny Williams for the suspected abduction of his daughter Jenny, who was reported missing yesterday. Williams, who is currently separated from his wife, calmly surrendered to police officers as they raided his residence following a tipoff. Jenny, who had been kept for thirty-six hours in Williams' residence, has been returned safely to her mother. Investigators are still uncertain of the motive of the abduction."

Huh? Two consecutive reports on the same item?

"In today's local news. Lenny Williams has been sentenced to seven years in jail for abduction of his daughter Jenny. The verdict, widely seen as-"

Mom turned it off. She continued driving, never once taking her eyes off the road.

Oh. I forgot. It was the cassette Mom played all the time. Recordings of the broadcasts when Dad and Jenny was in the news. I never could understand why she listened to them over and over so joylessly, as if hoping to hear something she'd missed the past hundred times.

Things never had been the same since that strange day. I came home from school to find police cars surrounding our house. Mom crying her eyes out. The twins unusually mopey. And Jenny wasn't there. As well as that yellow dragon she carried with her everywhere.

It hit Mom the hardest, I think. Especially so soon after the quarrels, the divorce, the custody battles. I hated how she went from being a cheerful soul to such a...witch. Honestly, I never once saw her smile since Dad left.

******

That afternoon, I ended up in the lawn playing with Jenny. It felt like it had been such a long time.

"But you're always King." Jenny pouted. "It's my turn."

"You gotta get the crown." I stuck out my tongue at her, holding the paper crown Dad folded just out of her reach.

She made a face like she was about to cry, but at eight years of age crying didn't come as naturally as it once did.

She's becoming a big girl, I smiled to smyself.

Sighing softly as the April breeze, I sat ourselves down on the velvety grass, curling and tickling our bare feet. The scent of freshly-cut grass wafted in the air, what Dad would call "the smell of grass growing".

Jenny's eyes danced as I placed the crown on her head.

"Tell me a story. Please."

"Hmm...there was this weird dream I had last night..."

THE END

My Life Movie Soundtrack

Here's an interesting lil' tag, fresh from Ee Lyn's blog. (You better pay me for free credit mention, gal!)

How it works:

1. Open your music library
2. Put it on shuffle
3. Press play
4. For every question, type the song that's playing
5. When you go to a new question, press the next button

Hahaha...simply irresistible!

* For convenience's sake, only English and Malay songs will be considered. Crazy Frog songs are another story altogether.

Roll the tape, monkeys!

Opener Theme:
20th Century Fox theme

DUM DUM...DUM DUM...DA DA DA...DA DA DA, DA DA DA...YADDA YADDA...

Falling in love:
Sephia - Sheila On 7

Hey, Sephia
Malam ini ku takkan datang
Mencoba 'tuk berpaling sayang
Dari cintamu

Hey, Sephia
Malam ini ku takkan pulang
Tak usah kau mencari aku, demi cintamu
Hadapilah ini
Kisah kita takkan abadi

S'lamat tidur kekasih gelap ku (ooo.....Sephia)
S'moga cepat kau lupakan aku
Kekasih sejatimu takkan pernah sanggup untuk melupakanmu

I once knew a friend who had a maid called Sepia...

Sex Scene:

JENG JENG JENG~!

Murder On The Dancefloor - Sophie Ellis Bexter

It's murder on the dancefloor
But you better not kill the groove Dj,
gonna burn this g*ddamn house right down

Oh, I know I know I know I know I know I know
About your kind
And so and so and so and so and so and so
I'll have to play

If you think you're getting away
I will prove you wrong
I'll take you all the way
Boy, just come along
Hear me when I say
Hey

It's murder on the dancefloor
But you better not kill the groove
Hey, hey
It's murder on the dancefloor
But you better not steal the moves
Dj, gonna burn this g*ddamn house right down

Erm...so am I the one murdering, or getting murdered? And what's this DJ guy doing on my bed?

Breaking Up:
Butterfly - Crazytown

Come my lady
Come come my lady
you're my butterfly
Sugar, baby

Come my lady you're my
pretty baby I'll make your legs shake
you make me go crazy

Eh...I got sound so desperate meh...

Life's OK:
Don't Cry Out Loud - Diana DeGarmo (from American Idol 3, yes I do have weird songs in my list)

Baby cried the day the circus came to town
'cause she didn't want parades just passin' by her
So she painted on a smile and took up with some clown
While she danced without a net upon the wire

I know a lot about 'er 'cause, you see
Baby is an awful lot like me

Don't cry out loud
Just keep it inside, learn how to hide your feelings
Fly high and proud
And if you should fall, remember you almost had it all

Not the uppity-est of songs, but I love it! =)

Mental Breakdown:
God's Will - Martina McBride

I've been searchin', wonderin', thinkin'
Lost and lookin' all my life
I've been wounded, jaded, loved and hated
I've wrestled wrong and right

He was a boy without a father
And his mother's miracle
I've been readin', writin', prayin', fightin'
I guess I would be still
Yeah, that was untilI knew God's Will

And I was afraid Sean Kingston would drive me nuts...

Driving:

*Just for laughs* At this point 'Sei Xing Bat Goi' by Twins plays. At one point in the song they go:

"Why must like that?"
"Why cannot like that?"
"Don't you feel it's agonising?"
"Agonising...but I like."
"Forget it lah."

Of course, it's in Cantonese. If you've heard the song, you'll prolly be laughing your head off.

*Just for laughs 2* The Star Wars opening theme plays. I kid you not.

The Blower's Daughter - Damien Rice

I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes off you
I can't take my eyes...

Keep your eyes on the road when driving? One of my favourite songs, neway.

Final Battle:
Truly Madly Deepy - Savage Garden

I'll be your dream
I'll be your wish
I'll be your fantasy.

I'll be your hope
I'll be your love
Be everything that you need.

I love you more with every breath
Truly madly deeply do..

I will be strong I will be faithful
'Cos I'm counting on a new beginning.
A reason for living.
A deeper meaning.

I want to stand with you on a mountain.
I want to bathe with you in the sea.
I want to lay like this forever.
Until the sky falls down on me...

It's weird, but I picture a slow-mo battle in a lush green field which ends up with me getting stabbed through the heart. No kidding, try listening to the song.

Death Scene:

Ahahahahahaha.

Presenting...Canon in D by the Vienna Boys Choir~!

Though it's technically not an English or Malay song, the appropriateness brings a tear to my eye. Pass!

Funeral Scene:
She Believes In Me - Jon Peter Lewis (some other American Idol 3 dude)

And she believes in me, Ill never know just what she sees in me
I told her someday if she was my girl,
I could change the world
With my little songs, I was wrong

But she has faith in me, and so I go on trying faithfully
And who knows maybe on some special night, if my song is right
I will find a way, find a way...

Die until so cham??!

End Credits:
You And I Both - Jason Mraz

Was it you who spoke the words that things would happen but not to me
Oh things are gonna happen naturally
Oh taking your advice I'm looking on the bright side
And balancing the whole thing
But often times those words get tangled up in lines
And the bright lights turn to night
Until the dawn it brings
Another day to sing about the magic that was you and me

Cause you and I both loved
What you and I spoke of
And others just read of
Others only read of the love, the love that I love.

Cause you and I both loved what you and I spoke of
and others just read of and if you could see now
well I'm almost finally out of.
I'm finally out of, finally, deedeeededede
well I'm almost finally, finally, finally out of words.

~THE END~

ENCORE, ENCORE!
What a life, huh? =p

* Feel free to tag yourself...this tag comes HIGHLY RECOMMENDED from me, the tag-hater! Thanks Ee Lyn!

Writer's Block

Zhi Yong's grandma passed away last afternoon. I always knew her as the nice old lady who smiled when I came to his house.

In the past months, she had been suffering quite a lot from diabetes, anemia and a fracture. Selfish as we are in wanting to keep her here, God made the best choice. She's now in a place of eternal joy and peace, waiting to see her loved ones again.

Zhi Yong seemed rather gloomy when I talked to him on MSN yesterday. Guess God is giving me more reasons to pray every day. =)

Slumber (Part 9 of 10)

Okay...by all accounts, this story should've been dead by now. I just haven't been able to 'get' into it. As poetically lame as that sounds, it's the intangible bit which separates stories from ramblings. For a story which held such great promise, I strangely haven't been able to muster any inspiration to make it different from past writings. And if I can't even excite myself, nobody's gonna be fooled.

Now now, a final 2 chapters to make good. Here's at ya:

Slumber (Part 9 of 10)

Black.

Eyes opening.

Still black.

Lips parting, trying to make a sound.

Nothing.

"Bo."

Where was this?

"Bo!" Louder.

My eyes started registering a room. A ceiling. Walls. A window. Drawers.

I felt beside me. A bed. I was lying on a bed.

"Bo! For the last time, YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE!"

A frizzy-haired woman slammed open the door, and literally dragged me out of bed in the most inconsiderate manner.

"Get dressed. Downstairs. Breakfast. FIVE MINUTES." Her arms waved comically at every pause.

*******

Groggily I made my way downstairs. There was still this dreamy, dazed glaze on everything. As though a lot had just happened, but there was frustratingly no way to tell what.

"For heaven's sake, hurry up," Mom barked from the breakfast table. "The twins are in the car already.

Two slices of yellow bread packed neatly in a lunchbox. Breakfast, apparently.

"I'll be in the car." she threw some scraps to Blackie.

*******

"Mom?"

"Mm?"

"When are we visiting Dad again?"

She continued driving intently. Out of the corner of his eye, I saw her mouthing Stupid Lenny.

Sigh. I hated it when she was in this mood.

Trying to break the icy silence, I turned the radio on. News. Before I could change stations, she stopped me.

"In today's local news," read a surly voice.

"Investigations are still being carried out on the mysterious disappearance of eight-year-old Jenny Williams. Williams was found missing from her residence this morning, with no signs of forced entry. Also missing is a yellow soft toy which belonged to her. Williams was last seen by her mother in her bedroom yesterday night."

Little Jenny! My mind whirled in shock.

Crab Tales

I've been posting some pretty amusing stuff on my company blog lately, making Twisted Tales the faithfully ignored first wife. Poor thing...

One of the most interesting things about CC+J - yours truly aside - is the two crabs we rear in a tank. Not those big kinds that taste good with chilli, mind you, just teeny fellas twice the size of a 50 sen coin.

Unassuming as they are, these two nameless crabs have provided us with many, many hours of entertainment. Well, it is the first time I've been so close to a crab. Not counting my mouth.

So well, I just couldn't resist a crabby tale or two...

Episode 1:
The Crab Speaks

Episode 2:
The Crab Speaks... Again

Episode 3:
The Incredible Mystery Of The Crab

What can I say? It sure beats writing about some dumb girl and her evil imaginary dragon =p

Things Always Seem Worse In The Morning

"Things always seem worse in the morning."

This line has been appearing in my mind for the past few weeks, the moment I roll out of bed and start assembling the number of tasks that need to be accomplished for the day. And they always seem impossible as I brush my teeth. Always.

As lunch time approaches and I reflect on a wonderfully slow morning, however, they start appearing more possible. There's a reason why there're more hours after lunch time than before, you know. Afternoons have a way of drawing all the nasty stuff to themselves, leaving you to enjoy your mornings and evenings.

Always have, always will.

When you were little, mornings were the best time to be awake.

Honey Stars in milk. Homemade tuna sandwiches with too much mayonnaise. Sunny egg tarts. Bustling morning markets. Steamed dim sum with your parents. Cartoons, cartoons, and more cartoons.

When you were little, you slept afternoons away.

Hot, scorching sun. School buses. School lunches. Household chores. Homework. Tuition. Waiting for parents to come home.

When you were little, evenings were almost as wonderful as mornings.

Football. Badminton. Running around. Climbing about. Bicycles. Kites. Slippers. School buses (not your own). Woks clanging. Setting sun. Coming home to the whiffs of dinner.

And nights, a cherry to top it all off.

Dinners. Television. Homework. More television. Computer, maybe. Sleep.

Now that you're older and wiser, are your mornings still mornings?

Indeed, things always seem worse in the morning.

Black Button

A great movie on temptation, choices and morality!

"Mr Roberts finds himself awoken inexplicably in a white room. A man sits before him at a desk and in between them stands a black button. If Mr Roberts pushes it, he will receive a briefcase filled with millions of dollars. Or he can take the key to the door and leave penniless. The catch? Pushing the button will result in the death of a human being. What would you do?"

Simply riveting from start to end. And would you believe it, it was shot on only 200 bucks in an old school stage. Wish I could make a movie like that some day. Come on, guys!

Slumber (Part 8 of 10)

Been in the office 12 hours a day for the past 3 days (not necessarily working). It's nice to spend a slacker-ry afternoon reading on Wikipedia about everything from The Fly to Pacman to Dino Riders.

And yay! CC+J's first-ever above-the-line ad appears in The Star Classifieds today. It's for a moving company Myrelo, and will be running 30 days in 3 versions. I don't care, this time I'm taking full credit for the copy! It's portfolio-worthy work, I know. My my, how selfish. :p

But still, it's nice feeling talented once again. :)

Slumber (Part 8 of 10) - Let's just get this story over and done with! It's tasting like a bloated bowl of Maggi.

The Scatter Witch's eyes grew round. "You're mad."

Bo snorted.

"You'll kill us all." the Witch whispered.

"I won't die," Bo sneered. "I'm no longer some silly dream. I'm becoming real."

"And you," he turned to Lenny. "You pitiful mutt. You were doomed the moment I became King."

Lenny growled fiercely, trying to get up. Bo stepped over and kicked him in the sides, causing him to fall. "You're pathetic."

"How fitting, that the almighty Scatter Witch drains her powers to grant me Black. Which I eventually use to defeat the great Lenny. "

The Witch was absolutely seething. "You...you had a plan..."

"What can I say? Planning is everything."

"Someday," Lenny gritted his teeth. "Someday you'll return to Slumber, and someone else will be King. That'll be the day. I promise you."

"Pitiful talk. Pitiful, pitiful. But of course, I truly admire your heroics for Little Jenny. Look how well everything turned out. She'll be going back!"

In a fit of rage, Lenny tried to break free and tear into Bo. Alas, Black was too strong for any of that.

"Enough! You shall sing." Bo smirked hatefully and pointed at Lenny. Clearly against his will, an uncomfortable tune escaped Lenny's throat.

"Hush little baby, go to sleep
When you sleep all things are sweet
Fancy shoes and ribbons dear
Don't wake up till morning's here"

"The Dream Song," the Witch exclaimed in disbelief. "How could you have known..."

"You see," Bo stated. "More than a dream or fantasy, I was her friend. She trusted me."

It was the song her parents always sang her to sleep with. So enchanting. So haunting.

Jenny's eyelids begged to shut one more time, surrendering to the stillness enveloping her.

What will I wake up as, a part of her wondered.

You'll be safe in your bed, ready for school, Bo snuggled beside.

You'll be in another strange land, running away from snarling witches and dragons.

You'll be like what Bo said - nothing.

"Bo..." she cried.

Chris Benoit Is Dead

Irony at its best. Or worst.

Three years ago, Chris Benoit and Eddie Guererro embraced in the middle of a wrestling ring, confetti streaming down, fans rapturous in applause. They had worked their entire lives for that moment, standing tall at Wrestlemania 20 the World Heavyweight Champion and WWE Champion respectively. In that one defining moment, all was beautiful and wrestling fans could dream again.

One-and-a-half years ago, Eddie Guererro was found dead in his hotel room. Cause of death: side effects from his substance abuse years ago. Though he famously overcame his addiction and found Christianity, the demons from the past caught up. He was scheduled to win his second WWE Championship that night.

Two weeks ago, WWE Chairman Vince McMahon filmed a stunt where he was supposedly killed in a limousine bombing. How lame was it? Even my father, the naivest and most earnest of wrestling fans, could tell it was a hoax. However, WWE played it to the fullest; they ran tribute videos, engaged 'federal investigators' to appear on-screen and even held the revered ten-bell salute.

The storyline received much criticism for being distasteful, more so with the subsequent real-life passing of 'Sensational' Sherri Martel, a former female wrestler. Undeterred, WWE announced that tonight's programming would feature a 3-hour 'memorial service' for Vince McMahon.

This morning, Chris Benoit was found dead in his residence, along with his wife and 7-year-old son. Cause of death: alleged double-murder-suicide. Investigators say that over a period of three days, Benoit murdered his wife and son, then killed himself. The wrestling world is in utter, utter shock.

He was scheduled to win his second World Title last night.

The Vince McMahon memorial service will now be replaced by a Chris Benoit tribute show.

Vince McMahon is scheduled to appear, putting an end to his laughable 'alleged death'.

As for me, wrestling's fond memories have slipped so painfully far. Seeing Benoit and Guererro with their belts lifted proudly back then; it gave me faith. Simple faith that even small, smiling men could take their place among giants.

We'll always love you, Chris Benoit.

Slumber (Part 7 of 10)

Last night, I somehow ended up in a dingy cybercafe playing Starcraft with my boss till 12am. Got abso-freaking-lutely OWNED. I can't believe how sucky I've become.

Slumber (Part 7 of 10)

"You'll be going back as the dream, and I the dreamer."

"What that simply means," Bo snapped. "Is that I'll be a real person, in the real world."

"And me?"

"It's hard to tell. You could become a stuffed toy like myself. Or a favourite blankie, a good bedtime story, a nice thought. Anything that breathes life to dreams."

Jenny didn't like the sound of it.

"All we need to do is lie together on the Great Bed."

She shook her head. "No. I want to go back as myself."

He sneered. "You pretty well know there's no chance of that. You'll never find the Great Bed without me."

Suddenly, an unexpected wheeze made them jump. The Scatter Witch!

"I am the Scatter Witch," she smiled. "I watch over all dreams, all denizens of dreams and I say when they end.

"I knew sooner or later you would want everything for yourself. And you would figure that this dream is mine and mine alone. But it was brilliant, I must say, trying to get Jenny to take your place. I do believe this is the first time a dream denizen has tried to become real."

"But I knew. And I took some...let's say, precautionary measures."

"The Great Bed?" Her fingers darted apart to demonstrate ka-boom. "No longer exists in this dream."

Bo's eyes widened in anger and disbelief. "The Twins..."

"Me. Me. All me."

She cackled, like all good witches do. "You'll still end up a stuffed dragon in the morning, Bo. You're not as special as you paint yourself. Others have tried to take over Slumber. I saw through them every time."

"And you," A twiggy finger pointed at Jenny. "You shall never dream again. Your dreams give rise to Bo, and I cannot risk him returning."

"Stupid witch."

"What?"

"Stupid witch." Bo sat stone-faced. He tapped the ground twice.

Like summoned, Black emerged from the woods towing a fallen Lenny behind it. The Scatter Witch shook violently - from fear or fury, Jenny couldn't tell.

"Lenny," Bo said coolly. "Wake us all up."

Writer's Block

Ah-la-mak!

One crappy 'Random Act Of Kindness' aside, it feels like I haven't updated in a month.

*checks blog, yelps in horror*

It has been a month!

Funnily, the last time I posted - crappypostaside - it was my final week in Ideasmith. Am now into 3rd week in my new company, CC+J Adhaus. Things are sometimes good, sometimes bad...mostly getting 'familiarised'. Which is code speak for lazing around, haha.

Pst... *hangs head* I've been posting a bit for the company blog. Which partly explains the absence.

Blogdultery!

Finished Mitch Albom's 'For One More Day' in one sitting in office that day. Nice, heart-warming tale as expected, but less of a story than 'The Five People You Meet In Heaven'. And is it just me, or are his stories all sounding alike?

But anyway, the story deals with dead people being given a second chance in life. So pardon me as I excuse myself to indulge in:

I WANNA RE-WRITE GHOSTOPIA!!!

Hah.

Oh man, these preambles are killing me. I'm supposed to post Chapter 7 of Slumber, but this thing's already so long! And my eyes are starting to hurt from staring at the white screen. It's like how Ultraman beeps after 3 minutes on Earth.

*blushes at unwarranted use of Ultraman analogy*

Aiyah, another post lah.

Random Act Of Kindness

Just got back from a Hari Kantin at Sri Petaling Community Hall. Wasn't too keen at first, but there sure is something about Hari Kantins that brings out the kid in us! Few rounds of throwing rings, and we were slapping high-fives, screaming like samseng sekolah already.

As we were leaving, I chanced upon this stall offering free milk samples. The sort you ignore in supermarkets.

Walked over. Must have been still high from redeeming gifts. Not to mention thirsty.

Chocolate milk. Mmm. Chocolatey.

Fresh milk. Slightly sweeter than what you'ld expect, but still good.

Okay, I'd had two cups. It would be rude to take any more, right?

Then the most incredulous thing happened. The chubby squinty-eyed stall girl looked at me and recited in the most rehearsed way possible - I kid you not - "Sir, veli nice to drink leh. Makes you want to buy also leh."

I almost burst out laughing. She looked so earnestly fake. Fake, but in the truest, sincerest way possible.

"Come lah sir, buy lah. Today special offer, next time sell outside won't be so cheap one."

I giggled. "How much?"

"RM12."

Cheap your head lah.

"Come lah sir...just buy one packet."

Her face wished so badly that I would say yes. Every single part of her knew that I would surely walk away, save for that little glimmer of hope against hope.

"Okay."

"Wah. Really?"

"Yeah."

Gleefully she handed me the packet of Dutch Lady 4.5.6 Kiddy Formula. "Really lucky you buy. Whole day no one come buy." She showed me her near-blank clipboard.

"You buying for your younger sister?"

"Uh...no. I'm the youngest."

"Her? Then who you buying for?"

"For fun loh."

She shot me the strangest look.

In a world of random violence, random killings, random hatred, seks rambang, Dota Allrandom and what-not, it's nice to have a Random Act Of Kindness.

*One night later, the writer realises the utter stupidity of his Random Act Of Kindness. And wait till he tells you of the time he gave his number to a beggar. Well, at least it gave him one blog post.

Slumber (Part 6 of 10)

Last week at Ideasmith. Dunno if I should be feeling happy or sad now.
I'm just withdrawing from everything, watching people running around barking orders.
Lost in my little world.

SLUMBER (Part 6 of 10)

Jenny kept running, her breath coming out in short, noisy pants, her jelly legs ready to give way any moment.

Still no sight of those Twins. She looked up, and oh no! The trees pointed upwards. Had they gone out of their tree-minds?

Up, up, no other way
Quick, 'fore they get away

"But how?" she hollered at the trees, feeling rather foolish.

They trembled, not a whisper.

She unbecomingly chewed her fingernails. "Lenny! Lenny! LENNY!"

Nothing. Had that creature killed him?

"He's not here."

She looked up towards the booming voice. Bo!

What now?

"Don't be afraid," he smiled. "I'm not taking you to the Scatter Witch, or anywhere."

"I-I don't believe you."

He sat beside her and folded his wings. She backed off, afraid.

"Let me tell you a story. A story you'll find most interesting."

"There once was a little girl, Jenny. Every night she hugged her stuffed dragon Bo to sleep, and he followed her to her dreams."

"Be they faraway wonderlands, frightful fantasies or silly everyday happenings, Bo always, always was there. As years went by, Bo became so attached to her dreams - he realised he knew almost everything about them."

"Soon he found out about this powerful Scatter Witch, who dwelled within the dreams of every child. She knew all the little details; the colours, the smells, the sounds. Most of all, she knew how to create new dreams."

"Every night Bo observed her work, and learnt a little more. He learnt to paint Jenny's dreams even when she was awake, each time adding bits and pieces that would help him stage a takeover. Like a Great Bed, for instance, so that there was no other way she could awake."

"Then one night - this night - Bo designed himself the King of Slumber. When Jenny dreamed...tah! She was his to keep. A deal was made with the Scatter Witch, that she help him keep Jenny asleep forever."

Suddenly his queer smile vanished.

"But now I see - the Scatter Witch doesn't need me. There is nothing I can give to buy her loyalty. And I know - when the time is right, she'll strike and send me back as a stuffed dragon."

"So I have been thinking," Bo scratched his chin in mock thought. "The only way is for us both to re-enter the real world."

But that's exactly what I want, Jenny thought.

"But, aha," Bo snapped his fingers, cueing four flying teddies to descend from the clouds, setting down the presumably Great Bed.

"This time, you'll be going back as the dream, and I the dreamer."

The Perfect Sunday School Lesson

He steps into the empty classroom, eyeing about with a satisfied smile.

The seats, still unoccupied, stand quietly in a semi-circle. A remarkably clean whiteboard watches over them, the way all self-respecting whiteboards do.

His mind outlines, once again, the ice breaker that'll set off the lesson. Seems fine. The children will laugh and chatter excitedly, asking for another round, and another, then another. Unless someone breaks something.

The lesson? Leads perfectly well from the ice breaker. A thought-provoking question or two, and the children will be eating out of their teacher's hands.

He sees it now: The children will listen wide-eyed, open-eared. Their curious minds will try understand everything they can, even pop a question or two. When the bell rings, they'll shut their eyes, clasp their hands and pray dearly. Heck, maybe the Memory Verse will be more Verse than Memory.

"Ah, yes," He whispers. "It'll be the perfect Sunday School lesson."

*****

Here now, the moment of truth: The children trudge into their seats, mostly wishing they were home being serenaded by the Cartoon Hour.

Icebreaker time. Brrrrrr. The ice is mighty thick today. Try as the teacher might, the children are simply in no mood for childish games. What utter irony.

Embarassingly, the teacher ends up playing more than the children do. Can't blame him, it was the only way to eat up ten minutes.

"Can anyone tell me the purpose of the game?" he next throws his million-dollar question.

Splat. It flops so spectacularly, the Russian Olympic gymnastics team would've blushed.

"Erm...okay, why did we play the game?"

Not a hoot.

"Was anyone even paying attention?"

The children sense exasperation, though they don't actually know what the word means.

Things go downhill for the next quarter-to-hour. More times than he remembers, the teacher wishes the ground would swallow him up. Awkward silences pepper the session like a first-time cook with Ajinomoto.

Whoops! The teacher gets stuck mid-sentence again. Already the children are yawning and whispering among themselves. Slowly but surely, he is losing them.

Ring! Goes the bell. The disinterested children pray along, and jot down the Memory Verse to memorise next week. The class empties out.

Sigh, goes the teacher. I wonder what went wrong. It all seemed so perfect.

Guess I should try harder, pray harder next time. It'll be better.

*****

Beaming warmly in the way only He can, He gazes at the teacher switching off the lights.

Indeed, it was the perfect Sunday School lesson.

The World's Shortest Stories Of Love And Death

As promised, some delightful pages from The World's Shortest Stories Of Love And Death (refer to previous post). And they're really all 55 words long. Go count!

#1 Perfect Opening Line

A dozen bodies of women with slashed throats.

Never a sign of forced entry.

Detectives were baffled.

Meanwhile, the slasher was on the prowl again.

"Piece of cake," he sneered.

Knock, knock.

"Go away!"

"Your husband's with my wife tonight! Please! We have to talk!"

Door opens abruptly.

Works like a charm, as he grabs her.

#2 The Climb

Three men started climbing 90 floors. The elevators were out until Monday, and Sam had to have the papers over the weekend. As they hiked the towering flights, the men busied themselves telling sad, painful stories. On the 90th floor, Sam's story was the most painful.

"I forgot the key," he gasped, then dropped dead.

#3 To Air Is Human

Wrapped in bloody bandages, tubes stretching from his body, the accident victim gestured frantically to the attending priest. Desperate, unable to speak, he scribbled a message. Then, with a gasp, his breathing stopped.

After administering the last rites, the priest turned to read the dying man's final words: "You're standing on my air tube."

#4 Modern Medicine

Blinding headlights, deafening crash, searing pain, absolute blackness, then the warm, welcoming, clear blue light, irresistibly beckoning. John felt gloriously happy, youthful, and free as he strolled into the enveloping radiance.

Slowly, the pain and darkness returned. John's swollen eyes agonizingly opened - bandages, tubes, casts, both legs missing, his tearful wife.

"They saved you, Honey!"

#5 In The Beginning

She was mad at him. They had almost everything in their idyllic life, but she coveted the one thing they lacked. Only his cowardice stood in the way.

She would dump him, but she couldn't yet, so she would resort to cunning and seduction. Naked and beautiful, she grabbed the fruit.

"Adam," she called softly.

And my hands-down favourite...

#6 Forever Star Crossed

"Come on, kiss me - nobody's watching."

The young couple embraced.

"We shouldn't meet like this."

"Says who?"

"Everybody. My family doesn't like you. My mom says you're not right for me."

"Yeah, mine too. But who cares?"

"I sure don't. Because I love you, James."

"And I love you too, Gary."

Slumber (Part 5 of 10)

It's supposed to be my last day at Ideasmith today, had I not extended my stay for two weeks. At this stage, however, it feels like I'm the one benefiting, not the company. We're working on a killer project now, one I hope to make a final snatch to my portfolio before leaving.

Came across an interesting book weeks ago. It's titled 'The World's Shortest Stories Of Love And Death'. And guess how short? 50 WORDS! Yeah, every story is exactly 50 words long, yet contains some sort of plot twist. Incredible or what? At the risk of getting sued, I'll soon post some favourites for y'all to see.

And...it's storytime, kiddos.

Slumber (Part 5 of 10) (Did I mention that this story IS heading somewhere?)

"It's gone!"

"What?"

"The Bed," Lenny pointed at an odd flat-grassed patch. "It's supposed to be here."

"And it isn't?"

He rolled his eyes at her, annoyed.

"Where could it be, then?"

"Someone moved it," he pressed his nose to the ground. "And they smell suspiciously close."

It was the Twins,
Curse their dismal grins

"Lenny," Jenny tugged fearfully. "Th-the trees! They're whispering!"

"The Twins, eh? Which way did they go?"

North of the bony oaks
Whichever way the stew cooks

"Thank you," he kissed the ground, and turned to Jenny. "Follow me."

She trailed him to a bumpy path lined with elderly-looking trees. As though by magic - if it wasn't in fact that - their knobbly branches pointed the same way.

They went that way
Fine as any breezy day

Suddenly a distant rumbling shook the trees like leaves. As if they weren't quivering badly enough already, the leaves themselves shook like leaves. It was a faint, steady rumble; the sort that made you feel all queasy and calm-before-the-stormish.

Black, Black, trouble at hand
Broken dreams awaiting the sand

Boom! A wolf-like creature pushed through the oaks, howling to announce its arrival. It was a hulking beast, no smaller than Lenny, jet black all over. A blackened trail, not unlike soot, lingered from its path.

Lenny snarled. "Jenny - I'll distract Black here. You go where the trees are pointing. Keep running till you see the Twins with the Bed. Shadow them till I get to you. Leave a trail."

She nodded, and made a dash. At once Black pounced viciously at her. Lenny, however, saw it coming and charged at him mid-air.

Both wrestled to the ground, snapping at each other's throats. Black was the more powerful of the two, but Lenny was quicker and more agile with his wings. Each time Black tried to pin him down, Lenny's wings would flap violently, forcing Black to back off.

Eventually though, Lenny would tire and allow an opening to gash his chest. As usually is the case, injury led to injury - and it didn't take a Wizard of Oz to foretell the battle's outcome.

*****

"My ears decieve me!" Scatter Witch shrieked. "Surely!"

The Night Mare neighed and stomped again.

"Go away."

It burst into lucent flames and bolted out the door, almost catching Bo on the way out.

"Now what?" Bo grunted.

"Apparently," she folded her arms. "The Twins couldn't find the Bed. Someone moved it before they arrived."

"Mystifying."

She glared daggers at him. "And no one else would have the power to do that."

"I could say the same of you."

Her fists clenched white. "So be it, till proven guilty. I shall fly myself to the Trembling Woods, and seek out the Bed. You keep an eye on things."

"Be my guest."

Perfect. Just perfect.

The Worst Writer In The World

The Worst Writer In The World
Put down his pen
He couldn't write from nine to five
Why, he couldn't even write to save his life

The Worst Writer In The World
Tore up his book
He never knew the right words to say
Why, he even forgot what he wrote yesterday

Alas, The Worst Writer In The World
Never knew what to write
Till he saw others write it
He wrote for hours and hours to no end
But always saw the same from beginning to end

His stories wasted his time, his poems wasted his rhyme
Tall tales, short stanzas, fiction, faction
Meanderings, panderings, wanderings, bickerings
Gibberish!
Rubbish!

Indeed, he said
I am The Worst Writer In The World
I quit!

And somewhere between the pages yellow
The Best Writer In The World died, poor fellow

Slumber (Part 4 of 10)

So much has happened lately. Okay, not a lot actually, it's just one big thing that seems to have far-reaching consequences.

My company's (still Ideasmith at the moment) Creative Director passed away suddenly from a stroke last week. He was 55, had two kids of 10 and 14, and was apparently a well-respected figure in the Chinese literature community. His name was Lim Yew Chuan.

And it couldn't have come at a worse time, exactly one week after I tendered resignation. Things were mightily sombre around office last week, and at most times I felt like jerk for leaving as everyone was picking up the pieces. Was also afraid that my boss would persuade me to stay a little longer - which he did yesterday, asking for 2 more weeks. Will need to talk to Joescher (my soon-to-be boss) about that.

On the flip side, it was nice to see us grow closer - somehow, everyone's been more helpful and co-operative these days. It's a shame that as I'm leaving, the company seems to be entering a period where us young 'uns will be called upon to step up. But live life with no regrets, I say.

Oh wow...a preamble that's already half-a-post long. That's what I get for not updating in ten days.

Slumber (Part 4 of 10) (And believe me, this story IS heading somewhere)

"Across the Trembling Woods. That's the only way we can get to the Great Bed." Lenny murmured.

"But why can't I just sleep here? See, my eyes are shut already!"

"You won't be able to. The only way back is through the Bed. Now hurry, before Bo gets there first!"

Jenny held on for dear life, as Lenny spiralled downwards to a gloomy green patch. It was an overgrown mess of quivering, sorry-looking plants, stretching out to forever.

"Get down." He took care not to hurt her. "Hand on my tail. And no letting go."

One foot before the other, the two ploddingly made their way to the heart of the woods, taking care not to trip on the snaking weeds. The constantly trembling canopy very soon became dizzying, making sunlight dance in and out their eyes. You never knew when an innocuous-looking bush would just shake violently, and burst into a flight of leaves.

"Lenny," she suddenly quipped. "What if we can't get to this Bed? Will I see Mom and Dad again?"

His caramel eyes met hers. "Of course we'll get you back safely."

"It'll all just be a bad dream?"

"Yes."

She caught an uneasy glint in his eye.

*****

"Without the Great Bed, there is no way she can wake up."

Bo peered up from his notes. "Mm? And?"

"I've sent the Twins to take care of it. Black will track down Lenny and the girl."

"Good, good."

"Ahem," the Scatter Witch tried unsuccessfully to see what Bo was writing. "You still haven't told me how much of Slumber I'll get."

"You're afraid I'll trick you."

"Can't be too careful."

"How would I dare mess with the mighty Scatter Witch," he scoffed. "After all, you're the only one who has seen a thousand years of Slumber."

"And Lenny."

"But you said he was weak. Which was why you left him to seek the Night Mares."

"Whatever you're thinking," she glared piercingly at him. "Remember this: I can thrive in any dream of any child. But you, my friend, can only exist within the mind of this girl."

"If ever Jenny awakes," her pencil fingers snapped. "Poof."

"Heh. You worry too much."

Oh how you underestimate me, Witch.

Slumber (Part 3 of 10)

It's April! And not a single meaningful story post yet for the year.
So what's new? I finally resigned last week, will be starting a new job in Sri Hartamas next month. Gonna miss lunchtime shopping in Mid Valley, but you take some and give some...
And before I forget...something I wanted to include in my Wikipedia post, but somehow overlooked. Make it a point to check out this admirably ridiculous site: www.uncyclopedia.com

Jenny looked up, startled. What new uncomfortable twist was this?

A glassy pair of doggy eyes stared back at her. In the strangest, most inexplicable way, she was being taken away in the jaws of a big flying dog.

"Hullo there!" the dog gruffed. "Sorry I had to introduce myself like this. Name's Lenny."

"I-I'm Jenny."

"That I know. I'm taking you now to the Great Bed."

"Great Bed?"

"Jenny," Lenny descended and dropped her gently onto a cloud. "Every night you go to sleep and start dreaming, this Land of Slumber comes alive. We all have our little adventures. Sometimes you join us. Sometimes you sit by watching."

"When you eventually wake up, everything disappears. Nobody remembers what happened the night before. Nobody but three people - you, me, and the Scatter Witch. Everyone else fades to the back of your mind."

"But you're not really a person." Jenny giggled.

Lenny frowned. "A little seriousness. Please."

"Sorry."

"So here's the problem. I don't know how, but tonight Bo has somehow gained dream awareness. He knows that this is a dream, and you're the one keeping it going. His existence depends on you staying asleep."

*****

"I have a little...idea." Bo snorted a wisp of smoke at the Scatter Witch's face, annoying her to bits. "You might be able to help me. Help us."

"What in your dreams do you want?"

"Just think. Wouldn't it be amazing if we could make the Land of Slumber...last more than one night?"

Her pale eyes grew wide. "You're not supposed to say that. None of you dreamlings ever should."

"Well...I did."

"B-but...how? It's not possible!"

"We'll deal with the nitty-gritties later. Now are you interested or not?"

Her eyes became slits. "Tell me more."

Sleeping In Class

Have you ever fallen asleep in class?

I used to do that a lot. Not in class during school, but afternoon tuition at the world-famous Pusat Tuisyen Kasturi.

It always starts with waiting for the Cityliner bus to head downtown. For some reason, I never board the bus that comes right after school. Rather, I take the almost-2pm one. Must be the lesser crowd. Or lunch. Or both.

The bus rumbles comfortably. All is cosy and hunky-dory. My textbook-padded school bag's just soooo warm. And before you know it...

BOK! BOK!

My head bashes repeatedly against the window, as a result of nodding off. Not the blue-black sort, but still enough to warrant an ouch. Strange thing is, I always can HEAR and FEEL it...but there's no pain. Every time it happens, I merely pop awake drowsily and think, "Hmm...that's supposed to be painful, right?". And resolve not to go back to sleep and make a fool of myself. For twenty seconds.

Eventually the bus takes me there, and up the dreary steps of Pusat Tuisyen Kasturi - God bless the place - I go. The creme de la creme of Secondary School Students assemble. Hot hunks, gorgeous gals, nerdy nerds, taikos, taikajehs...eat your heart out, KFC Variety Bucket!

All ritey, I say to myself. Today I'm gonna get one step closer to becoming a straight-A student and ensuring a better future for the Mok lineage.

"Okei, hari ni kita akan melilhat nota dari slaid."

Dum. Dum. Dum. Off go the lights.

Hummm...aircon's just right today. What a perfect environment to learn about Sistem Feudal: Kedaulatan Sultan-Sultan Melaka.

Ah, yes...long live Sultan Alauddin Riayat Syah.

You know it once you start dozing off. Heavy eyelids, half your usual IQ and attention span, the usual suspects. "Not again..." you wonder.

Every once a while *something* jolts you awake. For a while. It could be a glance from the teacher. An extra loud intonation in her voice. Or sometimes it comes from yourself.

Each time that momentary jolt comes, you think, "Okay, okay...did I almost fall asleep? I'm so gonna stay awake for the rest of the class.".

Yeah, right.

Statistically speaking (yes, I am very experienced in this), the first two jolts are usually false alarms. The coast turns clear soon enough, and off you go again. There's more of a struggle this time around, at least. "Break time's coming soon, break time's coming soon..." Alas, most times you end up losing without even realising it.

Then Bada-Boom! It happens. *Something* will happen to snap you completely out of sleepy-ness. Again, it could come from yourself. Or an embarassing incident involving the person sitting next to you. Or worse, the teacher takes the trouble herself.

Once the wake-me-up moment occurs, you know. It feels so real, so definitive that whatever ideas of sleeping during breaktime become laughable. You feel ashamed, almost unbelieving that you were dumb enough to sleep in class.

The other day, I fell asleep in the Class of Life. God threw a chalk at me.

"Anyone mind lending me their notes to copy?"

Oh Wiki You're So Fine...Hey Wiki!

Wah, 1 month never update blog already oh!
You abandon your blog already ah?

No apologies guys...it's not that I've been busy, but things haven't been very conducive for blogging lately. Between pesky issues like helping organise Gospel Camp, mulling over a job change (I can't believe I'm still at Ideasmith and being paid less than ALL my college peers), my sweeeet newly-purchased Masked Rider Black DVD set, falling in love and other pesky matters, I haven't had much chance to polish up thoughts.

(My my, a nosey bunch indeed, aren't we. Why don't you ask about Masked Rider Black instead.)

Neways, today's post concerns an item I picked up 2 weeks ago. Here ya go:

Webaroo, a provider of offline Web technology, is making available Wikipedia...Unplugged, a downloadable, searchable "Web pack" which contains the entire contents of the online encyclopedia's more than 1 million articles of collective knowledge. The pack, which is around 6GB in size, can be downloaded to a memory card for carrying on a smart phone, for example. The content automatically updates in the background when one connects a loaded device to the Internet.

"Uh huh?" you go. "Like...uh huh?"

DON'T YOU GET IT, YOU MORONS?

When Wikipedia was first launched some years back, it was just a 'cool website with lots of info'. Then slowly, as people realised how impossibly accurate, up-to-date and extensive the info was...they bowed at its feet in awe. Forget the wise man on the mountain, Wikipedia was the definitive source of truth.

"Dude...no, I'm telling you the population density of Hungary is 282/square mile!"

"Wait...did the Spanish Inquisition start in 1478 or 1487?"

"Now there is ABSOLUTELY NO WAY the President of Libya could be Omar al-Bashir."

Now thanks to Wikipedia, the truth ain't out there. It's staring you in the face. A mere click (and some typing) condemns you to the indignity of being a poser know-it-all or The Hallowed Glory Of Being Well-Read.

But now...a portable Wikipedia?! The utter horrors! The dangers it could pose in the wrong hands!

Picture this:

*At a dinner party*

Know-it-all: Hello! Enjoyed your dinner?
Know-not-all: Certainly did.
KIA: So...what do you do in your free time?
KNA: Well, I...read a lot.
KIA: Great! I read a fair bit myself. Any good books recently?
KNA: Uhhh...sure. There's this one by, uhhh...John...
KIA: Grisham?
KNA: Yeah yeah...that's the guy.
KIA: The Innocent Man?
KNA: Innocent of what?
KIA: Haha! Quite the joker, aren't you. His latest book, I mean.
KNA: Ahahaha! Of course I knew that. Just pulling your leg.
KIA: So you read it?
KNA: Of course! (clutches stomach suddenly) Whoops, excuse me for a moment.

(Five minutes and a Portable Wikipedia later)

KNA: Hey, I'm back! Anyway, The Innocent Man: Murder and Injustice in a Small Town is the first nonfiction written by John Grisham which was released by Doubleday Publishing on October 10, 2006. The book details the story of former minor league baseball aspirant Ronald 'Ron' Keith Williamson of Ada, Pontotoc County, Oklahoma, where he was raised in the strict Pentecostal household of his parents, Roy Williamson and Juanita (Caldwell) Williamson, along with his sisters, Annette (Williamson) Hudson, now from Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Renée (Williamson) Simmons, now from Allen, Texas.

KIA: Whoa, whoa...easy there, man. It's a casual party.

KNA: Shaddap, moron!

Spoiler warning: Plot and/or ending details follow.

The story begins with Ron Williamson, who has returned to his hometown after failed attempts at playing for various minor league baseball teams, including the Oakland A's and the Ft. Lauderdale Yankees. This failure leads to a bout of depression, which results in a drinking problem...

(At this point, a small crowd gathers and starts worshiping at the feet of Know-Not-All)

I'm afraid, people. Really, really afraid. Now everyone can be a genius on any subject in five minutes. Those poor grey-haired men in libraries and labs. Anything they spring on me, I only need to excuse myself for five minutes, and...voila! A lifetime of research put to shame.

Remember that chubby auntie selling plastic hairbands in the market? She prolly knows more fengtau songs and alternative indie bands than you.

Or that Indian man on his motorbike, selling fresh milk in a tin container? He's *this* close to being an expert on sequenced prokaryotic genomes.

Or how about your neighbour's fat kid who watches Naruto (on TV3!) all day long? He could fill you in on what makes the opposite sex tick. Scientifically.

And maybe on a strange, strange day in the future, we could find ourselves with Wikipedia implants. And when everyone knows everything about everything, geniuses rule with the fools!

Give me Friendster any day.

The Tag Is Back

Pardon the cheesy title, folks.

I just ain't feeling myself today. You never do, especially after having ridiculous tags being forced upon your admirably out-of-the-ordinary blog. You know, like that time the geekish nerd-dork made you dance with him at the school prom. Or that time your dad insisted you wear his oversized swimming trunks to Poolside Nite.

Sigh...pucker up I will, anyhow. The things I do for goodwill to men, people. And it isn't even that season.

WOW, LOOK! THIS TAG'S GOT A WHOLE FREAKIN' PARAGRAPH OF RULES. IT MUST BE SO DIFFERENT FROM ORDINARY TAGS. MY MOUTH IS WATERING WITH WATER TO COMPLETE IT.

Each player of this game starts off by giving 6 weird things about themselves. People who get tagged need to write in a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state the rules clearly. In the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names. After you do that, leave them each a comment letting them know you tagged them and to read your blog.

Here we go!

1. I'm not reeeeally the biggest fan in the world of blog tags. Maybe on a good day, maybe, maybe. Just not on most days.

2. I'm probably one of the best Pacman players in the world. Yeah, like seriously. For someone with slow reflexes in pretty much everything, it never fails to amaze me.

*Or get girls screaming in excitement, wink wink*

3. My guilty little pleasure: watching wrestling. I believe I've written a freakin' thesis on the subject before here, so no explanations required. Still waiting for a chance to put those wrestling moves to good use, though. Like nabbing a snatch thief, or shutting up pesky bosses. Ha ha.

*HAR?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN WRESTLING IS FAKE? NooOoOOoooOO! MY LIFE IS...RUINED!! RUINNNNNED!!!*

4. I can never, for the life of me, participate in conversations about a) handphones, b) computers, c) cars. Which is basically 90% of what self-respecting guys blabber about. So how do I go about my manly existence? Strategically-placed nods and saying "Oh, that's the one everyone's talking about, isn't it?" works most times. 'Cos if they're talking about it, chances are it's the one everyone's talking about.

5. At home, I speak to my brother and sister in English, to my mom in English and a smattering of Cantonese, and to my dad in Mandarin. Meanwhile, everyone else speaks in Mandarin to each other, except for my mom who speaks in Cantonese to my dad. And oh, my mom calls my dad "Ei". Which is short for "Hey". Can't believe this nonsense has been going on at the same dinner table for 20+ years, without anyone realising the utter absurdity of it.

6. And, oh, oh...OH! This one's so good I gotta keep it for last.

Hold on to your seat, I'm warning ya.

Take a deep breath...

Steady, steady...

Here it comes...

Okay, one more deep breath...

There you go...

I'm not sure how to put it in words, but...

I CAN LIFT MEDIUM-SIZED OBJECTS WITH THE FLAP BETWEEN MY LOWER LIP AND MY CHIN!!

YOU WOULD NEVER, NEVER, EVER, EVER UNDERSTAND THE SHEER AMAZINGICITYNESS OF IT!!!

Far out.

And we're done.

6 people I want to torture with this tag...

Eh...

Ah...

Uh...

I'm sorry. My religious beliefs do not permit me to repay evil with evil. Therefore, my Good Deed For The Day shall be putting an end to this tag. Remember kiddos...TOGETHER WE CAN MAKE A DIFFERENCE!

*Meanwhile, in a faraway room, another dumb blogger forwarded this tag to his 6 friends. His 6 friends passed it on to 36 friends, and yadda yadda yadda.*

Slumber (Part 2 of 10)

Yay! Received my bonus and some long-overdue freelance payment, so don't blame me for feeling rich as full cream milk. Why, I could end up a mini-millionaire after Chinese New Year!

I kid you not, this must be close to the tenth time I'm working on this entry. Just can't stay focused for longer than 2 minutes these days! Say hel-lo to attention deficit.

I want to update religiously, really I do. It's so frustrating to have stuff on my mind and not being able to translate that into a killer post. And the story! As I've always suspected, you need to keep writing, writing, writing once the idea hits. Which is exactly what I've NOT been doing. Bleargh. Let's try get this baby going, all the same.

Jenny stared at Bo, mostly dumbfounded. Was this even her stuffed dragon?

"Teddies!" Bo bellowed. "Take her away!"

Two button-eyed teddies swooped down and lifted her.

"Take her to the Scatter Witch. She'll know what to do."

"Wait!" Jenny yelled. "This is just a dream, right?"

Bo's lips curled upwards. "Of course. I wouldn't be twelve feet tall and talking in real life, would I?"

So it was a dream. How curious. "What do you want to do with me, then?"

"I told you. I'm going to keep you awake forever. 'Cause once you fall asleep in the Land of Slumber, you wake up in the real world. And when you do...I disappear."

"B...but, I'll dream of you again tomorrow night! I always do!"

"There's no way you can be sure of that."

"I will! I promise!"

"Bah," Bo coughed up a puff of smoke. "Enough talk. I don't want this night to ever end. I have a land to rule over."

He motioned for the teddies to take her away. Screaming, kicking, Jenny suddenly felt very, very worried that this was no ordinary dream.

*****

The teddies had been carrying her close to a half hour now. She was growing sick of the sight of purple clouds.

How long more is this going to take, she wondered for the umpteenth time. The teddies didn't say anything when she asked.

Finally, they descended -rather roughly - on a clearing of soft grass. A barely-noticable sign read "THE SCATTER WITCH NEVER RESTS."

The teddies nudged her towards a sorry-looking hut. The Scatter Witch's place, no doubt about it.

"There you are, my dearie," A decidedly witchy voice fluttered from inside. "Come in, come in."

Two sharp teddy jabs didn't allow her anywhere else to go.

So up the steps she strode. When suddenly, swiftly - in half the time it takes a teddy to blink - a pair of powerful jaws snatched her into the air.