Silence Kills

The interesting thing about silence is this; everyone agrees that it speaks more than words. Ironic really, since the definition of silence itself is properly to NOT speak.

Silence can be incredibly awkward.. like when you just met someone.. and you don't quite know how to keep the conversation flowing. Two people unsure what to say, or how to behave around each other, and they invariable end up just not saying anything.. thus the akward silence. I'm sure we've all been there. It can also be when it's a awkward situation, like when caught with you pants down (literally and metaphorically) or in a less than usual situation.. there is a silence there, because nobody really knows how to behave... and we all just try to shuffle along and pretend like nothing happened. The silence just emphasizes how uncomfortable we are with each other.

But silence can also be comfortable in a way. When two good friends or lovers just sit around the coffee table, sipping coffee, not saying a word. It's OK to be silent, and though it may seem like there is no interaction between the two, they probably are in fact just enjoy each others company. The silence just emphasizes how comfortable and content you are with each other. Like lovers walking by the beach during sunset, hand in hand... listening to the evening breeze and watching the sun go down.. Trying to hard to create conversation my just ruin the whole moment.. anything that needed to be said, is said there, through your skin.. touching one another, holding hands. You can even be on the phone with each other, and not say a word.. it sounds funny.. but this time.. it emphasizes just how comfortable you are with each other.

Silence can be killing... and just downright agonizing.. An email unreplied, a call unreturned, a text message, completely ignored. Have you ever felt that way? Wondering why this person has not returned you call or emails? First you tell yourself to be as fair as possible. Give the person all the time they need.

Maybe they are busy, maybe they can't find the right moment or opportunity to reply to you, and still....................no reply.

Then your insecurities start playing at you; maybe I said something wrong? Did I offend him / her in some way? Maybe I said some things I shouldn't have said? We think the worst when we are left to our own devices. When it's a persons silence we are dealing with.. we really really imagine the worst. Our insecurities just play out.. and it is at that moment that we often realize just how vulnerable we are.. how we as human beings really are so dependent on others for our sense of self. It's a scary realization.

We start doubting ourselves, and our self worth. Maybe he /she isn't that into me after all.. Maybe she didn't really mean the things she said. Maybe she was just having her fun and saying things to me to lead me on, giving me false hope. Maybe its my own stupidity to think the they were sincere towards me? Was I imagining things that were not there?

Then comes the sense of betrayal, and anger. You feel like you've been taken for a ride.. Like you've been played like a fiddle. Was this person EVER sincere? Is certainly looks like they were not. Why else would she blow me off like that? I though we had a good thing going on. I though we had good momentum, why the abrupt stop?

You feel like you've been running in the dark, trying to chase after your friend.. She / He's leading you on with their voices, prodding you, asking you to come forward, move faster, move closer.... and suddenly you hit a brick wall....and then...... nothing..... silence....... not a word.. no "hello, sorry im busy".. no "I'm damn pissed at you".. no "I hate you, don't want to ever see you again", no "Ive been playing with you all this while"..... nothing.......

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Just silence

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And you don't know if you should feel cheated or angry or stood up. You don't know if its a genuine mistake, if the person is genuinely unavailable, or if they just consciously ignore you. If they are ignoring you purposefully.. WHY? WHY? What did I do wrong? If nothing, what happened to you? What happened in between? Why aren't we talking anymore?

The silence kills.. The unknown just eats at your heart and your mind..

Your mind gets consumed by those unanswered questions. It leaves you confused, hurt and angry all at the same time. You have only questions, with no answers. You have only doubts, uncertainty and fears. Nothing kills your hopes and spirits faster than this deafening silence.

Silence..........it kills.

Reviewing my new years resolution

I'm not one to usually set new year resolutions. In fact, I think this is the first time I have ever did. So, since its now August, I suddenly thought it would be a good time to see how I've done so far. Just for some background:

Here's my new yeasr resolution for 2009

written back in January. How's it going so far? Lets see:

1. Loose some freaking weight!

Hmm.. I guess for once, I can actually say, so far so good! This time last year, till the end of the year.. I was around 90kg, touching 92kg.. Seriously unfit and out of shape. No confidence, felt fat, yada yada yada... I think most people know how that feels. So even though I knew this was probably the hardest and least likely to be successful, I put it top of my list. I started forcing myself to leave office earlier to go swimming or jogging in the park, even if it was already 8pm, for at least 3 times a week without fail. Did I diet? Hehe.. sorry no. Men are horrible at dieting. But I did significantly cut down on food. Half rice every single time, more proteins, no oily or friend stuff....and tried forgetting when was the last time I ate KFC. Oh, and I threw out the weighing scale. I didn't want to read the difference, I wanted to SEE it for myself. So I just kept this routine up. It made me feel more energetic throughout the day after a while.. and before you know it, I stepped on a brand new weight scale (I had to buy it since I LITERALLY threw the old one out)... I was down to 84kg. I had lost about 8kg since my heaviest! Cloths fit better, and I started feeling better about myself. People say I look younger now.... but I'm wondering "Hey, when do the girls start swooning at the sight of me? What else is this for if not for the ladies right?" haha... perhaps if I lost another 10kgs and did plastic surgery la.... Next milestone, 80kg.

2. Fashion Sense and New Hair Cut

This one's a bit tricky. I still don't think I have much fashion sense. I have tried going out shopping the entire day with my trusty fashion advisor a.k.a other half. She has better taste, and knows the kind of cloths I would wear (or rather the ones I would rather die than wear).. but here's what I found out. Good men's wear is expensive here in Malaysia. Or at least, the kind that I liked were expensive. I've always had a prefence for clean, earthy, minimalist and understated styles. I never wear all those 'lala chai' funky cloths and all. Simple elegant design and colours that look good without coming across as looking cheap or 'cekai'.. Is that so hard to find? Well apparently ya. When I was in the UK, buying men's clothing was so much easier. A lot of the cloths were more tastefully made for men, without being exhorbitantly expensive, or exceedingly tacky. So anyway, I have made a few additions to my wardrobe, but it's still a work in progress.

I got rid of my old spectacles.... and got myself a solid black rimmed spectacles that was supposed to be 'in fashion'. I was worried that I'd look like an owl or justin timberlake in those funny glasses.. but I guess it turned out fine.

New hair cut? Check. Well.. not a significant departure from my old hair... But definitely less Ah Beng... I abandoned the old time indian barber that would cut my hair for RM10 with no questions asked. Sure, the cut was always rough, every cut was at risk of turning out different or looking like a disaster, and the barber's hand sometimes smelt of dhall.. but I'll miss the simplicity of it all.. Come in, sit down, grab your magazine.. Pendek atau panjang? Slop mau? Sideburn potong?... No fancy styling, so debate about whether funky or normal is better, or which one suits your face. At my new hair saloon, it cost 3~4 times more, the guy constantly chatters to me in Cantonese, tries to sell me more hair products (insisting that something is wrong with my hair) and perpetually trying to turn my hair into something more 'lala'... I resist all the time, and the only saving grace here is, in the end, I think he still does a pretty good job la. Looks smart enough for work, refreshing enough for play. But still.. not good enough for girls to come swooning yet.. Oh well...

3. Blog more honestly

Well.. for starters, I did start a new blog with the word 'honest' in it. Does that count? With this new blog, I'm actually starting a clean sheet... and I no longer have that burdensome feeling of whethere or not what I was writing was 'in line' with the previous posts. So, if I want to say fuck off, I'll say it.. If I want to say I cried like a baby during Forrest Gump.. well, I just did actually. The only thing I'm still a bit unsure about is whethere not not to put in writing here the less than decent stuff that ALSO goes through my head. Despite appearances, I'm actually much 'naughtier' than I really seem, and there are things that I have occasionally felt like sharing here (and in previous blog) but abstained (no pun intended) because of the well... X-rated nature of the subject la.... My mom always said I was a cheeky little boy.. Guess mom's always know their children. But perhaps for now, I'll leave those stuff for another time and another place la... So I guess this one's not really achieved.

4. Do crazy stuff

Does changing your hair style and spectacles count? I'm thinking maybe not. Actually I don't really know what crazy stuff to do. Bungee jump, sky dive? I don't think so. Oh!...There was this one time I drank coffee at 2a.m... does that count? *cheeky grin* :p Guess not too. I think maybe I'm not really looking for crazy stuff to do per se, but rather, I'm just wanting to do things I normally would not do if left to my own devices. It's a adverse reaction of being so comfortable in my own skin and in my own ways all these years.

This resolution #4, along with #1~3, are all probably of the same reason. They all involve change in one way or another. Change the way I feel about myself, change the way I look, change the way and the things I write... and in a way. just change thw way I have been behaving all these years. I guess even from the start of the year, I just knew in my heart that this year had to be a year of changes; for better or for worse.

Yes, Forrest Gump made me cry.....

There I sit, alone, the last to leave the office... ready to call an end to my week day, yet for some reason, choosing to sit here, alone by myself, and just pondering.

In the background, I hear the very song you hear now.. It's the theme song from the movie Forrest Gump. It might just find itself permanently here on my blog, but I haven't decided yet.

(I'm pretty sure I've blog about it before in my past life (a.k.a old blog), so Cat, if you're reading and listening to this, sorry you have to hear the same thing twice!)

I always put it on when I blog... especially when I'm alone.. and feel the need to just think about the in's and out's of my life. It evokes a certain emotion in me.. Kind of like the way the movie did when I first watched it when I was what, around 9 to 10 years old? It made me sad, it made me happy, it made me inspired, it made me hope, and it made me believe. I never imagined that a mere movie could evoke such strong feelings in me. Maybe because the theme of the movie was a lot about hardship, unconditional love, and sufferings, family, and in essence the human spirit and life itself. It really really touched me at some level and since then, I think I must have repeated the movie 2 dozen times. I'm not one to readily admit such things (and I'd have to kill you once I tell you)... but quite many years ago, must have been time number 12 or what of watching it, I actually shed a few tears watching it.

I was home alone... and actually feeling pretty beat up and depressed. I stayed at home, I spoke to no one, and I took no calls. I can't remember why, only that it was one of those low points in your life where nothing seems to have a solution. So I just put the movie on and tried distracting myself.... before you knew it, I was totally engrossed. It was like watching it all over again for the first time. Maybe it was because I was feeling all vulnerable again, and when the final scene finally came, when Forrest Gump talks to his dead wife at her grave, and leaves the unread letter from their son, well.... I pretty much wept like a baby la. Even Titanic couldn't even make me cry.... but there I was sobbing away at a movie I've seen so many times.

To think back on it, I don't think I was really crying at the movie at all. I think I was crying because I needed to. I've never been one to let my guard down easily when it came to my emotions. Through all the incredible pain and hardship, I think I've been so good at keeping my emotions in check that I sometimes don't realize the importance of experiencing your emotions. Some people are a constant emotional wreck, unable to control how they feel, I think at the time, I was the total opposite. And truth be told, maybe at some level, I wanted to cry, and needed to cry... I just didn't know how to. I would have gone crazy or turned amok with rage and start loosing it if I had not found an outlet to just weep, mourn and feel sorry for myself for a while. Of course, my ego certainly did not allow me to cry in front of anyone, not even those closest and dearest to me. It would not have been the first time I sat in a corner and cried to myself.. but it was definitely the first time I did it while watching a movie....

So ya, I'll leave it at that for now. I end with a quote from the one and only movie scene that has ever made this grown man cry like a baby. Have a good weekend!

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Forrest Gump: You died on a Saturday morning. And I had you placed here under our tree. And I had that house of your father's bulldozed to the ground. Momma always said dyin' was a part of life. I sure wish it wasn't. Little Forrest, he's doing just fine. About to start school again soon. I make his breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day. I make sure he combs his hair and brushes his teeth every day. Teaching him how to play ping-pong. He's really good. We fish a lot. And every night, we read a book. He's so smart, Jenny. You'd be so proud of him. I am. He, uh, wrote a letter, and he says I can't read it. I'm not supposed to, so I'll just leave it here for you. Jenny, I don't know if Momma was right or if, if it's Lieutenant Dan. I don't know if we each have a destiny, or if we're all just floating around accidental-like on a breeze, but I, I think maybe it's both. Maybe both is happening at the same time. I miss you, Jenny. If there's anything you need, I won't be far away.

Internet censorship in M'sia....WTF?

Here's the shocking little news I read today:

Malaysia considering China style internet censorship

WHAT THE HELL?

Controlling 'bad elements'? I know Singapore monitors their citizens blogging a lot and ban a lot of porn websites... and China has this Great Firewall of China or something that blocks all the 'evil western influence'....

But I'd never expect this kind of problem to start hitting Malaysia. I mean... WTF?! Next thing you know, I can't even access my blogger account anymore just like when I was in China 2 months ago.

No doubt the government wants to block these rogue bloggers who are like super anti the establishment... Perhaps its not unfair for the government to keep these rogue bloggers under control.. but as for the rest of us normal bloggers here in Malaysia, ranting on about which store has the best char koay teow and why we think nasi lemak should be our national dish.. the idea that our internet be censored just irks us out...

I wonder what our good all Dr. M will say about this (if any at all)... go check out his blog. btw.. Dr. M must be like the coolest ex-PM our country has had so far.. what with a blog of his own and all... I can't forsee Pak Lah having such widely followed blog.. it's probably be filled with zZzz's!! :p

I'm a song repeater....

You know how some songs just seem to carry you through your moods throughout the week?

I'm guilty of being a song repeater. When I'm in the mood, I listen to the same song over and over and over and over again.. To work, back from work, to dinner, everywhere until the song is so engraved in my head I practically know it by heart. This of course annoys the hell out of people who regularly sit in my car with me....

But hey, it's MY CAR.. you listen to what I listen la... Haha.. But I'm too nice.. what I usually do is tune it down or try to put the radio or something general on that everyone can listen to.

I'm also kind of old fashion and weird when it comes to music taste. I listen to American Pie and Vincent by Don McLean, Tommy Emmanuel on the guitar and Burt Bacharach singing Rain drops keep falling on my head... In the mornings (like today), when I'm feeling a bit upbeat, I put on Let There Be Love by Michael Buble. I listen to The Best of Audiophile Voices I, with Jane Monheit crooning the best ever version of Somewhere over the Rainbow. Other times, I put on some techno music, blast the speakers and act every inch the silly ah bengs on the roads with their loud tasteless music. Occasionally, when I'm feeling all down and blue, I listen to "Don't cry Joni' by Conway Twitty... (Probably one of the saddest love songs around)

I tend to pick songs from yesteryears more than current songs. I suppose to me, there's a certain artistic quality about songs of the past that seem to be lacking in todays songs... that quality is.. substance. Not many songs will become evergreen... and as much as I find Poker Face by Lady Gaga catchy... I don't think anyone will still be listening to it 20 years from now.

ANYWAY, just to share with you the mood I'm in today... feeling snappy and lighhearted today.. I'll post this song for your easy listening. It's the original Nat King Cole version. I'd prefered the Michael Buble version, but couldn't find it online but I guess this is close enough..I have it in my PC though... Enjoy! What's your favourite 'theme song' for your day?

When blood runs deeper than water

I suddenly remembered something.

I never told my mother the truth. In fact, I think she still does not know. Her younger brother was robbed by the street a few years ago. He was just walking in his neighbourhood when he was ambushed by this group of armed bandits. I don't know if he tried to put up a fight, or if these men were just violent... but from what I heard, he almost lost his entire arm after being chopped with a 'parang'... he was hospitalized, and his arm nearly amputated.

At the time we learnt about it, my mother was not doing too well herself. She was in the midst of hospitalization in the psychiatric ward. We were informed by none other than our aunt, her younger sister.

At the time, my brother and I decided that the best thing to do was not to tell her anything about the matter. She was still emotionally unsettled. How would she react if she found out ther brother nearly lost an arm? We didn't know how she felt about her siblings, or if she still felt any love towards them at all.

Personally, I have had absolutely NO RELATIONSHIP with any of my relatives on my mothers side. My mother was raised by her cousins and uncles, while all her younger siblings were raised wtih their step mother and their family. In that sense,my mother was never really close to them in the first place. As a family, the only times we would see my uncle and aunties were during Chinese new year. It didn't seemed like they really cared about us anyway. In our darkest times, when my mother lived alone, when my father left her, when we had no money or a place to live, we were abandoned, and kicked out at one time.

Still, people say blood is thicker than water; family remains family no matter what happens. I felt so sorry when I heard about my uncle. Its not something I would wish for anyone in this world, even people I hated. What more a person related to me by blood.

We did talked a few times about her sibling, but I conveniently side stepped the issue and talked about other things. Part of me felt that it would be a bit of a cruel blow to her, part of me felt that they didn't deserve the kind of concern she would probably have for them. They were all missing in our darkest times, they all no where to be seen even as my mother lived for 7 years alone.. and they lived just a nearby or at the most an hours drive away. What kind of siblings were these? The kind no worth having that's what.

Maybe its wrong of me.. Maybe its not really my place to decide what to tell and what to hide from people who are my elder. I don't know. Since she's a bit more settled and stable now.... maybe its about time I break the news to her.

Coming Home....

Maybe I was just curious, maybe I just had to know, or maybe I just needed closure.

Whatever the reason, I found myself driving alone toward my old home. I had gone back to my old home town a second time in one month, on work matters. This second time around, I travel alone. I was about to drive straight home to KL, but something was tugging at me. I just had to see that house I used to live in again. I couldn't make up my mind. Should I just let the past remain the past, or should I try going down memory lane one last time?

The wounds had healed, and I felt as if I had moved on. It was time to face the ghosts of my past. I took the drive and I decided to use the old route my school bus used to take. I still remembered it by heart. The route to home was through an industrial park; first building that passed was the old place my father used to work when we moved up north. The Japanese company was still there, but the building looked much older than I remembered; 20 years had passed since then. Opposite of it used to be another factory called 'Baxter'. My brother and I liked the name so much, that when we got our first dog, we name him 'Baxter'... Further down the road was a timber saw mill. In later years when my mother lived alone, she told me she took up a job there for a few months. It paid lousily.. and the work was literally back breaking.. but she did it anyway to earn a living. My heart ached as she told me how she would have to carry heavy pieces of wooden plank from one end to another. The factory burnt down some years later but as I passed it by, a new owner had started rebuilding the structure.

There was a football field where my brother and I used to go watch the bigger boys play football. There was still a lot of cows around. Many of the old grocery shops that were there were now gone. Either that or they made new signboards, because I couldn't recognize most of them, except a few coffee shops. There were 2 to 3 regular coffee shops that my mother would frequent. She helped out in some of the hawkers stores and they paid her by giving her lunch. She would hang around and chat with the retired old uncles. They would give her RM10 here and there... and that was how she survive. For a person that neither worked full time, nor had a single cent from my father for so many years, I respected that my mother managed to pull through like that.

Just before turning into the my house row, there used to be a bus stop. My brother and I would wait impatiently for the bus to come. I used to like climbing up the side of the steel frame while waiting. It was at this bus stop that our dog Baxter tried to follow us up the bus when we were going to visit relatives in Kulim. The bus driver refused to let us bring the dog, and as the bus sped off, I could see Baxter chasing after us from behind. During my school holidays, this was the bus stop that I would wait at to go home, after a month of staying with my mother. Goodbyes were always difficult for me, and I would always turn back and look at the corner of the street, half terrified and half hoping to see my mother come around asking me not to leave. Terrified because I knew that if she did come crying and asking me to stay, I would have to say no and run off, showing a cold face. Hoping because deep in my heart, despite not daring to make that decision, I wanted to stay too, to be by her side and take care of her. Nothing ached my heart more than knowing I left her to fend for herself, alone and defenseless, mentally ill. In many ways, I still live with that guilt conscience. That bus stop was now gone. Demolished. I guess the bus doesn't come through here anymore. The old pond and swamp area behind our neighbourhood was also gone, replaced with new houses and development projects. The whole placed seemed strangely familiar yet foreign.

Going downhill, it was just one turn away from our street. I fell on this hill once from my bicycle, with my mother sitting right at the back. We were out to pasar malam, and my brother and i both convinced her that it would be faster to take our 2 bikes. My brother rode one while I carried my mother on the other. We would always like sliding down the hill without pressing the breaks. It was cool, and the breeze in your face was fun; we did it all the time. My mother was nervous, and ask me to slow down "Don't worry ma." I said to her... and as I negotiated the corner and finally hit the breaks at the last moment, the cable snapped. I lost control, and both my mother and I fell to the ground. We were slightly bruised.. but otherwise OK. She gave me a scolding, and for some reason, I still remember it till today.

Finally, I arrived at our street, and at our house. I had to pass it twice just to fully take it all in. Many of the neighbours were still the same, but everyone's house seemed a bit more lavish. The street was also a lot smaller than I remembered. The tree in front of the house I used to climb on while waiting for my father to come home was long gone. The house looked unchanged and untouched. The pink doors were still the same, the gate and the grill were not changed. Even the gold numbers '248' for the house number was still there, exactly the way I remembered it. Nothing much had changed. The house looked empty; no one was home. But the place was neat. The front porch look the same; Baxter used to be tied to the right corner.

My brother and I sat out here once for 2 hours one holiday waiting for my mother to come back. She didn't know we were coming at all.

I used to enjoy lying flat on the cement floor watching the stars and the moon above; I always wanted a telescope to watch the stars, but we could never afford one. But lying there at night was just as good.

One holiday, my mother stripped herself naked in tears, turned on the tap and started washing herself on this porch, as my father led my brother and I away. She had hoped my father would turn around and take her in. To her disappointment, he never did.

My brother was handcuffed and arrested on a Saturday morning when I was 12. My mother had made a police report that my brother physically assaulted her and hit her. All the neighbours watched as I followed my brother into the police truck. The police eventually let him go when they realized it wasn't true...I don't know if my brother has forgiven her for that.

This was it. More than this town, more than this neighbourhood, this house I called home was where it all happened. I dared not linger longer than a few moments. I didn't want the neighbours to notice me. I don't know how to explain the emotions that run through me as I looked at the house. I've never ever felt anything so complex. It's not that I don't know how I feel about this place anymore. Its that I don't know how to put in words exactly how I feel. Of nostalgia, of disbelief, of reminiscence, bitterness, pride, sorrow, sprinkled with moments of happiness, joy and contentment. It really has been a while since I last came here, and a long long while since I last felt completely helpless and in the mercy of others. Coming back here reminds me of being a child; when the world seemed so big and scary, and problems were always so big and complicated, and as the children, there was never ever anything we could do to help ourselves. We were always at the receiving end of whatever life fated us.

I drove off after the second passing, and headed straight back to KL... The past is the past, and I have today and tomorrow to live for. The traumas of yesterday were painful, but only God knows what tomorrow will bring; things may be better, or worse. Maybe I just felt the need to be reminded of my past, not mentally but emotionally. To recall the feelings and emotions that I went through. Going back and walking down memory lane evokes my emotions in a way nothing else can, feelings I had as a child; it reminds me of who I am, where I'm from, and keeps me grounded. If I could go through life like that as a child, I'm confident God will give me the strength to face whatever I will face in the future.