Myth explained. KL-ites are Stupid?

Many people seem to have a sort of stereotyped mentality towards KL dwellers. For example, me and my friends have always experienced locals constantly talking to us and giving us synical 'advises' when we go for treks in mountains all over the country. As if we don't know how to walk! If that was not bad enough, I've had a friend who moved in to KL from out of town giving me phylosophies that points out how KL people are inferior when it comes to working as compared to the others. He pointed out that the people who get high positions in companies are normally not KL-born. That was when I began to suspect this stereotype which have been unwillingly branded onto our flesh. I disregarded the topic and moved on. He wasn't someone who'd understand a single thing I said if I were to argue, anyway. So I didn't want to waste my time.

Today I got myself hit by yet another person regarding the same topic. It was shocking, since I'd never expect that coming out of his mouth. So I found that it is now imperative that I voice the truth out and not let these people insult us any further.

Let me, first of all, ask you a question. How many generations of your family are born in KL? For me, I'm the first. And I would not expect anything more than 2-3 generations if you're within the Gen Y era. Many of us are still the first in our families to venture into KL in seek of a career. In that case, how many percentage of people living in KL today are actually born and raised in KL? You figure out that answer.

Through my life experience, I can only tell you one thing. The people who were born and raised in KL, and come from well-to-do families (tonnes of them, I can say), have already left Malaysia for good. The ones left here are the ones who're still recovering from the market crash 10 years ago, and decided not to start another life since they're already old. Its called the Braindrain, in case you're looking for a formal word to describe this phenomenon. Its happening to Sabah now as well, in KK.
So since most KL-ites have gone, guess who normally takes the higher positions in companies in KL? You figure that out. And just because most of the richest people in Malaysia come from places other than KL, that does not mean KL only give birth to, and raise stupid idiots who'd only know how to spend money and do not know how to run and manage businesses. May I ask you how old they are? And then point out my first question as an answer. I do hope you can relate these two situations.
People from KL would normally not run small and insignificant businesses to make money, not because they fail to see market outside of the city, but at the fact that these small businesses take too much of their lives away. 'Kampung' people wouldn't know better now, would they.
It is very true that most KL-ites have been made stupid from the excessive studying on how to be the best employees in the world, instead of being an employer. But won't it at least be a little more agreeable if we apply the Law of Averages here? There are bound to be business people out there, born and raised in KL. But you won't have to look in KL for one. They've all left Malaysia. Some would argue that leaving Malaysia is stupid, because one needs to be very smart to compete with the foreigners in businesses. But know this. In North- and Central America, you only need one state to drink your canned drinks for you to make millions. Many did.

I'm not at all directing this post to anyone out there. But after the insults I've gotten from some irresponsible talkers out there, and honestly been driven quite high up the wall by now, that this post have to appear.

To those people thinking that we KL-ites are stupid morons who don't know any better, think again. All the arguments here are based on true facts. Face it, 'kampung' people. You're the weaker ones here. Wake up and smell the crap around you all. You think for one moment you're any better? We bleed the same as you, but we see more of the world than you.

A recall.

The day was drawing to an end. The sun behind sinking behind the horizon, the skies a carpet of gold. There were people with me, mostly foreigners. It was the end. We found the place we were looking for. I turned around to a couple, Spaniards I think.
"You guys gonna settle down here?" I asked.
"Yeah. I guess so. Seems like a nice enough place."
I don't seem to quite remember their names, but we introduced each other.

There was a row of houses. Old and shabby. We were driving pass the row of houses, and I saw a small empty land behind it. I had the car stopped, and we got out to have a look at the piece of land. It was like a fun park. People were guarding the entrance, charging one Ringgit for entrance.
" I have to go in and see this place. This is where I used to play when I was young."
There were brick rubbles around that empty land, as I remembered. But there were a lot more things I remembered being there. Air conditioner vents, electrical wires, .....
I could remember myself running around the place with friends. I kept on hearing the echoes of the kids screaming about in my ears. I could see them running lively chasing each other and waving their hands about.
My eyes suddenly caught a sight. At the other end of the empty land was small hill that goes up to a house.
"That's the house," I said.
"You wanna go over?" the Spaniard lady asked me.
I nodded. "Yes." it came out finally.
We made our way over to the entrance of the house. The door was never locked. Inside, the walkway led us to many doors, of which each housed a family of their own. From the wooden outlay around, I began to hear a faint cry. A baby. In an instant, I began to tear. The baby's cry hit me right in the heart, much as if I could feel what the baby was feeling. I walked faster. I knew that was what I was looking for: the baby. As I've reached the source of the crying, I found it to be from a loft. A lady was trying to hush the baby from crying, while she pulled a ladder up to prevent people getting into their 'home'. That lady. I haven't even seen her face, but hearing her voice made me tear again. The familiar voice that I used to hear from the day I was born.
"Is that her?" the Spaniard lady asked me.
"Yes." I was petrified. I couldn't make a move to even talk to that lady.
"Let me do the talking. I think its better that way. It wouldn't be easy for you to explain the truth out anyway."
"Hey, guys." The call came from up there. We turned to look, and found the lady staring straight at me. It seemed like an eternity of silence, with my eyes fixed on hers and hers on mine. " I need your help," she suddenly looked towards the Spaniard lady with me.
" I'm going to fix milk for my son in the kitchen. I was wondering if you could be nice enough to help take care of him until then.
She passed her son to us, and I was holding him up in front of me, dumbstruck. The person I was staring at, I cannot believe. I sat myself down with him, and him right in front of me. I played with his small hands and fingers; nothing more than an inch long.
The mother was back, still testing the heat of the milk in the bottle. From afar, she was already speaking to the baby, constantly wanting the baby to hear her voice. She got hold of her kid, and sat on the ground feeding the baby. As the small fingers held on to the milk bottle, leaning against the mother, she comforted the baby with words and wiping the tears away from the baby's face and sweat from the baby's forehead.
"Don't worry, mommy's here......Mommy's got your milk........Good boy...... You're gonna grow up to be a big man one day, and I don't want you to be anything like your father, okay....... You'll need to protect me from then on....... You'll be the son who'll make millions and touch the lives of even more millions...... Good boy..... I'm so proud of you..."
At that very moment, I stood there watching as she said those words into the ears of the baby boy. I cried. I was witnessing not only a mother's love and care for her little baby, but also what she has had set out for this particular baby.

I heard a faint sound of a familiar phone ring. It was my phone. I opened my eyes, and found myself tucked in comfortably in my bed. I heard my room door open, as the phone stopped to ring. A familiar footstep walked into my room. The person had long hair and dressed in brown. In that instant, I recalled my dream. The Spaniard lady was right. There was no way the mother could believe my words if I'd tell her that I'm her son. The exact son that she was feeding, the exact son that she had big plans for. The exact son that she just asked to wake up and asked if she could borrow my car for the day.

I typed into my phone:'I had a dream. I met you. You were young, and you were trying to stop a baby from crying. You were very young.' I sent it to CIA
The reply came: 'That baby is you la'.

This is the first time I'm writing a story straight from my dream, and its one of those dreams that become hard to remember a while after I'm awake. This is the most I could make of it. Just want to store it up in this blog so I can remember it.

The Son

This story was inspired by a true event. All the characters' names were altered to maintain privacy.

He found himself in a desolate wasteland, with nothing more than rocks and dirt all over the place. The sky was purple, and the lands were the reflection of similar colors. Clouds ran pass him over his head at a very high speed. A cold wind ruffled his brown hair. For a moment there, it seemed all too familiar, this place. Andrew could've sworn he'd been here. Suddenly, the numbness of his arms wore out. He felt as if he was wrapping his arms around something heavy. He moved his eyes from the horizon down to his hands, and found himself cuddling a baby. He was covered in blue cloth, and he felt cold. The baby had a face as pale as a ghost, and eyes shut lifeless. Andrew was shocked to see what he was holding, and had already begun waking the baby. After a few moments of trying and without luck of getting the baby to stir, Andrew lowered his ear to the baby's chest. He had to make sure.... that the baby was dead. In an instant, Andrew felt a sudden surge of emotion towards the baby. Holding the baby even tighter now, Andrew dropped his knees hard onto the dirt, and let out a cry that touched the ends of the world.
Shocked, Andrew quickly sat up straight from a sleeping position. He was already gasping for air, as if drowning. Throwing his eyes around him, Andrew found himself in the darkness of his own room. He pushed the hair stuck all over his face away, only to find himself sweating profusely.
'That dream. How many times has it been already?'
'Who's that baby?'

The clock struck 10 am, and the school canteen was already being filled with monsterous amounts of students rushing down for recess. Andrew was already sitting on the green chair made of stone, a few feet away from where the rows of long tables and benches began to stretch across the canteen hall. It was a cloudy day, just like any other day at that time of the year. A girl, clad in their usual light-blue pinafore uniform, was holding a can of fizzy drink and scanning the area. Apparently, she was looking around for a friend. Across the hall, two boys were walking carelessly with the two bowls of noodles they bought, having almost knocked over a couple of other school mates rushing over to grab a bite to eat. They were laughing out loud while recalling the prank they played onto the new teacher who'd just started teaching in their class. All 300 students going about their mindless chatter and clatter sounded almost like white noise to Andrew, who was in total oblivion now.
Too many times had he come across this dream. They were repetitions of the same event, yet each time seemed almost too new in the dream.
'Was it true that I have been dreaming the same dream for a week now? Or is it just this one dream, in which I dreamt to believe that I've been dreaming this event for the past week?'
It suddenly became more complicated. Maybe it was the first time he'd dream of this baby. And in the dream, he made himself believe that he'd been dreaming it for a long time.
'But what if..'
"Dude!" a cry came from afar, and the voice's owner mighty familiar.
Andrew pulled his head over towards the voice, and found Jay pacing closer. Jay was wearing a girls' school uniform, with a white collared shirt undernearth a light blue pinafore dress. She was holding a half eaten ice-cream in her right hand, and would occasionally stick it into her mouth to prevent the tropic weather from completely disintegrating her dessert.
" What's with the gloomy face?" she carried with her a cheerful and bubbly face. Andrew looked up at her not knowing what to say to her, or whether or not to say anything to her in the first place.
" Nothing," he shook his head.
" Nothing?" She was already lowering her head close to his, as if trying to dig information off his eyes.
" Your eyes don't tell the same story."
Suddenly, he remembered all the details of the dream too clearly. Before, everything was so vague. He remembered trying to recall the dream during his math class by forcing himself into sleep a few times. The cold of the desolate wasteland, the chilled wind constantly piercing his bones, and the baby lying cold in his arms.
Jay was already sitting next to Andrew, swinging the two legs she had that couldn't reach the ground under the bench.
" Jay."
" Yeah."
" There's something I need to tell you." He realised that there was something he wanted to test out: to know if the dream he had was really a repetative event, or was it just a one-time thing.
" I had a dream.." and he retold the whole event in the dream, the baby and how he was emotionally attached to it. and how he had a feeling he dreamt the event before.
Jay just sat in awe, currently already sucking on the ice-cream stick. She then nodded her head.
" And you wanna tell me this so that you can confirm with me the next time that your dream was not just a one-time thing being believed as a series of similar deams?"
Andrew just nodded.
" OK. As long as you believe that this will work, I don't mind playing this game with you."
' A game? I hardly think having a series of similar twisted nightmares of a baby I think I'm kin with would qualify as a game!" he thought. Nothing left his mind though, since Andrew himself didn't quite believe his own story and theory.
Jay jumped off the seat suddenly and threw her ice-cream stick aside.
"Let's go for a smoke," she suggested while looking at Andrew.
'Why not. I could use a couple right now.' Andrew nodded to her and they went off the canteen grounds.

The school bell rang, and it was already time for the students to return home from a whole day's studying. School boys rushed out of the compound as if been released from their cages into the free world, while the girls are already catching up with today's gossips. Andrew was walking out of the compound with his head stuck to the sky, now turning grey and gloomy. It might rain tonight. Jay beside him was chatting away on the cell phone, planning for tonight.
"Hey, you wanna catch a movie tonight? Or do you want to go karaoke?" Jay looked at Andrew for a reply.
He stared back at Jay, stoned for a moment. It is Friday today. "Movie."
"Okay. Hey, Andrew wants to watch movie. So we'll meet up with you at nine at One Utama, k?"
"Okay, okay. I won't. Haha......" Jay's voice was already fading away from Andrew's ears, along with the noise of the busses, cars and students chatting.
"......Daddy...."
The once dead and lifeless eyes of Andrew suddenly came wide open, looking around for the owner of that voice.
'Who said that?'
"Dude."
'Answer me. Who are you?'
"Andrew!" Jay yelled out at him. He looked down at her.
"Pick me up at 8, okay. I have to go now. My mom is waiting outside."
"Okay, okay. I'll call you. see ya."
Jay waved as she rushed over to the silver Proton Wira waiting for her along with other cars and busses.
'Daddy?' Andrew replayed the voice in his head, as he got onto the bus that takes him home.
'

The Greatest Hero

I've known you a long time, longer than anyone else in this world. You've been an inspiration to my life, and what ever it is that I do. Amidst the hectic life pursuiting my dreams, I'd sometimes stop and think a little. How lucky it is for me to have met you, how lucky it is for me to be growing up beside a guardian like you.

You told me your story once, that your father had died when you were little, that you had to struggle with your siblings to barely survive. You barely had a house the size of my room back then, and your whole family would have to live there. You'd help your mother work from morning till dusk, just to see the burden over her shoulders lightened a little. That your brother had to read under a single candle at night just to make it through to university. That no one else in your family could afford to go to school.

I've always been blinded by the comfort that was given to me, the comfort you had to work hard to earn back in your times. I'd always demand for things. Things that I could easily live without, and would blind me even more with. You didn't bother how hard it was to provide, and you continue providing. You have your own dreams, and could easily have gotten them. Instead, you gave them to me. You sacrificed your whole life, to let me mould mine the way I wanted it when I didn't even know what was it I wanted.

There was always a roof over my head, and no matter how bad things were at home, you'd force out a smile to greet my return. You gave me everything I wanted, without ever asking the simplest of questions, "Why?". Times were bad before, and I was there to witness all of them. I hated the person who did it to you, and until today I have yet to forgive him.

A friend told me his story a few days back, living under the conditions you'd live in when you were younger. He told me that eventhough they were poor and were always mentally broken, the very togetherness of their family kept them going. They'd learn to live everyday for that day, and to rely the next to God's will and their hardwork.

Times are bad now, and no matter how hard you work day in day out, it doesn't seem to provide enough. But its good. I feel that if ever things were not like this, I'd be growing up differently, never knowing how difficult it is to make a living. Never would you falter, never would you give up. Sometimes I could hear you crying alone in the night, always telling youself that you've gone far enough, that it was time to let it all go. But you'd wake up the next morning with a smile, and from your eyes I could see the energy to fight for another decade. I don't know how you harness such strength from the bleakest hours, but I admire you greatly for that.

I'd look at myself and wonder which parts of myself resembled you. Nothing. I don't even have half the courage and strength you have, not even half the willpower and determination. The storm of darkness had been fogging your path for years now, and you'd repeatedly fall into pits. But you'd get out of them and continue your journey, no matter how much it hurt you.

Mom, you are the greatest person I've ever met. You came from one of the poorest histories in your time, and yet none of your kids could ever imagine that being possible. Even after repeated battering from potholes that would kill your strength, you got up, brushed youself clean, and continued moving. You've provided us with the best things any sons and daughter can ever get. I know sometimes we'd have bad arguements where I'd want to quit studying to go out and work. I love studying, and there's nothing I want more than to come out of university holding a degree. But sometimes people don't get what they want. That's the time when they'd make sacrifices for the greater good: their families. I thought that by having a little bit of your traits, I'd be able to help the family, and you'd not need to cry in the nights again. That is the only thing I'm asking for, because it'll make me feel like a useless son if I'd just sit there and suck money out of you when I can be doing something more productive. I'm alright with me not finishing my studies, but I want to see my sister graduate doing what she wants to do. I only have that aim in my life for now.
Thank you, my hero. I am the luckiest son in the world simply because I have you as my mother. I don't think you'll ever read this post, but its my blog, and its a place for me to realise my opinions. God bless..

Happy Chinese New Year

First day of a new year, and all I did was had drinks with some friends and played some lame rounds of Counter Strike (CS). I don't know why on earth people would still play CS!! I'd rather be at home playing Space Cowboy!! That's a new BETA test online game, anyways. It makes me feel like Maverick in Top Gun, only the planes don't fly as good.

I'm supposed to be going to the temple, and attending lunch at my grannie's place later, but judging by the time now, I don't think I can budge out of my bed. It's ok, since there's absolutely nothing to look forward to besides the Ang Pow. And there we have my cousin back from US filled with piercings and colourful hair saying " These things show that I've been to US." That was what my mom said he said. If he'd ever say it again later today over lunch, I'll so slap him with a fried chicken drumstick and say " In case you don't know, I can come back from Sg. Wang looking like you!!"

Too much hatred this year. Must contain them and hopefully find another way of releasing. Gonna call it a day in a while. To y'all reading this, Happy Chinese New Year!!!! Nitez..

Oh, and do remember!! This year's word of wisdom to y'all is: He who confuses others, is himself confused". Confusing? I know how you feel.

Night of The Dead- A Story

Ixate and his team of elite marines ventured into unknown realms of a ruined city, in a Search and Rescue mission to find missing team members. Deep within the city, truth unveiled themselves in rather uncanny ways. What was believed to be the reason for such fallout, found itself being explained differently.
It was with his three members, did they uncover the twists that lie within the city itself. But would the world know of this? Would the world prevent such reoccurance, if they were to find out? Will government conspracies extend to the endangerment of the people's lives?

Story at http://ixatenotd.blogspot.com

Ditch everything and jump

Things have been pretty bitchy lately, or maybe I'm just being overly emotional about fucks and fucks' fucks. Anyways, I finished my exams rite... It was supposed to be a 3-month stressless holiday. Its not. Now that I have to deal with various problems that had stacked itself at the other side of the doorway, and its time to tend to them one by one. This would probably take all of my 3 month holiadays. Life suck, yes.

My car. New. Black. Mine? Not anymore. My brother.... An idiotic arse who'd give up everything to make my life miserable. I'll make a point to write about him. At least then he'll have something to be proud of: His own Biography. He pissed me off when he persistently asked for my car, when I wanted to use it. I told him he could use it when I wans't, but he didn't fucking cared. So one day I got pissed, and threw him the keys saying: There's you bitch. Take the car, and knock yourself dead while you're at it! He took the car. Sounds stupid, don't it? Ya... I think so too..

Moving along, there was this case I had with some friends over at the climbing gym. I owe one fren some money, and the others, thinking it was them I owed, bitched about me, and bitched about me. Whats worst, they come up to me and talk to me like we're BEST friends! Two-faced mother fuckers. Ladies and Gents, these are the people I do not want to be friends with. So I honestly don't give two and a half fucks about how our friendship would end, nor do I bother with that kiss kiss and make up, forgive and forget bulcrap. Its easy for you to say it. It takes a whole lot bigger man to do it, and frankly I ain't that big a man. Life won't get an inch worse without them in my life.

My mom. She's been having problems. I don't really blame her, but then...... Haha... Nvm.. Time for dinner anyways... The thunder won't strike me, rite?