Time

*I initially wrote this intending to be a poem, but it sounded too cheesy.*

I just saw your smile, one more time, through a sheet of filaments and electricity.

My heart sinks, a tad, but still noticeable.  Yes, as much as I'd like to mute the pain.

Should I feel less? Want less? Know less? Care less?  No.  

That would just invalidate myself.

It is plain absurdity to feel so much affinity, that it is borderline fabricated as it is idyllic.  

I just need time to wrangle free of these thoughts and emotions.  I need to fall back to my grounded state, from love to friendship.

I need to just be a friend again.

Sleeping At Last - Masquerade

Hills

Hey!  Sorry for the lack of posts.  I've been out and about visiting relatives and just got back from a week of travelling between KL, Seremban, and Ipoh to visit the fam.  

I'll try to keep this space updated, however I will be moving back into Cafe 32 this week so it's gonna be hectic.  Here's one that I wrote when I was in Seremban, some 4,5 days ago.

I was bored.  Hours of playing video games and listening to my grandmother’s constant ramblings has finally grown stale.  My sister, as annoying as I find her, was unavailable to talk to as she was napping to nurse a growing illness of some sort.  There was no one else around, as I know nobody in my hometown of Seremban.

I needed to get out of the house.

But I’ve never been around Seremban on my own, plus there is no car for me to use.  So I decided to take a run around the neighborhood.  The problem was that I the housing area of Bukit Rasah was seldom covered.  Never has there been a need to map out these streets, until today.

Maybe I wanted to get lost, to rediscover a familiar setting.  So I did.

I laced up my yet-to-be-broken-in running shoes, prepped my Spotify playlist, and embrace the low-rumble of a remote thundercloud.  I figured if I needed any added motivation to run, rain would be it. 

And then I started.  Ran into a few dead ends, and looped around the hill twice.  Before I knew it, I ran far enough that I really felt lost.  The sun was searing into my cheeks, while rolling dark clouds slowly creeped over at the distance. 

I was alone.

That was a good thing.  I needed the time and space to think, to get away from my family.  So often did I have this… commodity when I was studying abroad that, the need for personal space was easily overlooked until my return.

Sure, there were times that the hidden (but ever-present!) band of wild monkeys or stray dogs got me peering over my shoulder more times than an innocent person should do.  Passing by the foliage of dense canopic overgrowth and banana trees had me sneak by, as to not alert anything (if any) living nearby.

By now, my calves were screaming from the constant incline and decline of my impromptu adventure.  And after circling the inner circle of the neighborhood for a good 25 minutes, I decided to call it a day.

I walked back home heavily breathing, drenched in sweat, muscles near-cramping, with a newfound appreciation for the housing area while I’ve took for granted: the old bungalows of over 50 years, to the newly built complexes of recent years.

Maybe I wanted to get lost, so I can find myself again, in an old place.  This time, as an adult with the world ahead of him.

Side note: Having access to exclusively Chinese shows really makes me appreciate the choreography put into any martial arts movie.

#88 - Lo-Fang

Parents

They want the best for you, they give you shit if you don't perform as expected.

Can I blame them?  For now.  Until I learn to become a parent myself.

Why, do you ask of this out-of-nowhere rant?  Because me meeting the undercarriage of the proverbial bus came out of the blue as well, a la parental nagging.

Age is but a number, but FUCK!  I don't feel like a 22-year old.  Perhaps my notion of moving out from my parents once I return is a figment of US culture that I've carried back with me, and many kids still live with their parents in an Eastern culture as it is financially beneficial.

Or it's because I don't like getting ordered around.  I still am not.  I probably won't be for a while.

Yes, I can't get compensation for my flight.  But HOW THE FUCK am I to know what can or cannot be done by the fucking airline, or whoever runs the damn show?  

You blame me for sitting idly by while this happens (because they need time to process the claim themselves) and I am only doing to my capacity and understanding.  Why the hell must informative and constructive criticism come with "I told you so's" and implied "proactiveness"?

All these thoughts, and I haven't uttered a single word throughout our entire "conversation".

Good talk.  Absolutely fucking brilliant piece of insight.

Fuck the song suggestion.  There isn't any for this.

Humidity

Sorry for not writing in a while.  A handful of things have been happening since my arrival.

I'm still reeling from reverse culture shock, as the overall command of English is as good as my command of Hokkein and Cantonese: straight up abysmal.  Even simple things like gated communities, serving senior members tea, and having double-notch locks are something I need time to get used to.

Somehow jetlag hasn't hit me as hard as anticipated.  Probably because I'm still photosensitive and will wake up the moment sunlight hits my face.  Humidity still sucks; I can't go an hour without feeling icky already.

Regardless, it's comforting to know that my dad (mom's out of town) is assuring with my plans for the future.  I was hell-bent to start working part time off the get-go while applying for full-time positions.  However, he is right to say that I need to slow down and get used to the environment first.

Yeah, I can't even work at the Starbucks in Damansara Uptown (literally 5 minutes of a walk away) because I'm not living at my original house now.  That was quite the shocker.  It was later revealed that the house is going through a massive overhaul due to termite infestations and we're currently living at Mutiara Damansara instead.

I suppose beating kids up at the playground (IN FOOTBALL!) would have to wait.

爱爱爱 - 方大同

aka

Love, love, love - Khalil Fong

Re-return

Three and a half years.  That's how long I have cumulatively been in The States.  Bar that 2-and-a-half-week return in December 2013, I've been so far across the world from family.  

It's bizarre to think I've left my American family behind for my Malaysian one.  But as Tim Tesar of Admissions had said, it isn't a "goodbye" as much as it is a "see you next time".

I've cried four times already.  Not in a "bawl your eyes out" kind of way, but the "hold back silent tears" routine.

Perhaps it's because I'm confident that I'll see them in the near future.  Or it could just be that I've yet to accept the reality of things.

Either way, I still love them.  All of them.  And that shouldn't change at all.

Malaysia, I'll see you in about 2 days.  My future lies ahead.  The scary, unforgiving, powerful, wonderful, beautiful future.

How Do You Do It - Empress Of

Terminal

They say that when everything is against you, that things can only be on the upside from that point onward.  I would like to think so, but on the flipside, I believe that you make your own luck.  

Upon approaching the check-in desk for my flight back home, it was revealed that I was required to have a Canadian visa to enter their borders.  Now, this wasn't going to be a problem, if I knew or had a transit visa, which was vaguely informed to me by the company I had booked my tickets with.

I won't be saying any names, but FUCK YOU, CHEAPOAIR.

What was worse was that I couldn't cancel my flight and get a credit (yeah, not even a refund!) because I had checked-in online, and the offices for airline concerned was only open for the weekdays.  Yeah, I'm livid.  I should be.  I was cheated, maybe out of naiveity, but also out of corporate greed.

So, I blew $1000 USD without even walking past the security screening.  Fuck me, right?  I had to arrange for an alternate flight, leaving at 5 am the following day.  Yeah, that flight was booked already, and does not go through Cananda (thank fuck!).  Instead, it'll be going to Shanghai, which has the reasonable transit policy of NOT NEEDING A GODDAMN VISA FOR A TRANSIT.

Wait until I explain this to my parents and attempt to build a case to get some sort of compensation.  That will be a hell of a time.

Even after sleeping it off for an hour am I still seething with anger.  And I haven't even talked about the remaining emotions I had/am experiencing.

Lies - The Heirs

Pitch

Today was my last day playing futsal (indoor soccer) with the group.  It was odd... seeing everyone playing "for me" (not my words, promise).  Spare me the judgement for this post: I seldom have a noteworthy post on playing football.

It didn't help that I was having an off-day.  My passes went astray, be it elaborate trivelas to simple square passes: either the passes were too heavy, or the ball wasn't struck at the right spot for proper distribution.  Perhaps I was distracted, although I didn't feel like that was the case.  Dribbling was slightly better today, with the occasional loss in possession (but that's normal in my game, sad to say).  I managed to pull off some fancy flicks, turning my defenders and rounding them... before botching the final ball.

As per usual, I grew more into each game as my body acclimatized to the demands of box-to-box running (at least I've my stamina and work rate to turn to).  My performance had to be compounded in the following game.  Via a quick counter attack, Ji Yeow had sent me through on goal with only James, the opposing defender to beat.  Seeing that James was hesitant to collect the loose ball, and knowing that pace was on my side, I pulled a quick shimmy and knocked the ball the other way, around him.  However, he had unintentionally impeded me and my standing foot was taken from below me by his trailing leg, leaving me clattered on the ground.  I did 2.5 barrel rolls and slowly got back up on my feet, expecting to have been (rightfully) awarded a free kick.  To my surprise and dismay, the majority of the group had claimed that I was simulating, and gave the ball to James.  I would lie if I said I wasn't somewhat upset, but I couldn't dwell on the diving call: I still had a game to see through.

Somewhere into (I think) Game 6, I had misread a low cross while tracking back, and guided the cross into my own team's net.  That deflated my spirits a bit, and I was goalie for the following game (since everyone else had played keeper once already).  That match was decent, with me playing spectator throughout processions as Boyce, our most athletic player, was on defender duty, crunching down on the tricky and pacy duo of Mun Wai and Eric.  I had even managed to psych Eric out (with my spontaneous interpretation of Jerzy Dudek's spaghetti legs) in a one-vs-one situation and saw his shot go wide of my near post.

I was then back to outfield duty, marauding the right flank to add some width to our attack.  Nearing the end of Game 8, we had received a corner after a deflected shot.  Seeing as my teammate was in the box already, I opted to just drive the cross low towards him.  With the slightest of touches, he managed to guide the ball to the bottom corner and won us the game.  I was ecstatic and did an awkward chest tap with both my hands, to (cockily, guilty) claim the heroics.

That performance had boosted my confidence, as I kept harassing defenders in the following games with what little energy was left in the reserves.  I had a goal-bound low drive deflected away from a pair of trailing legs, and linked well with the wide players whenever we went on the offensive.  Something good was about to happen, I could feel it (well, maybe...). 

During the last game, a rare bit of tiki-taka-esque movement saw four teammates (myself included) make its way to the opposition box.  Tightly marked on the right flank, Ben had laid the a cutback pass back to me.  Instinctively, the defender begun to push up to pressure me.  I was about to attempt a curler, swerving the shot past the oncoming player to an unsighted keeper, but noticed Adli was in an advanced position at the left side, unattended.  I played a shot dummy, with my shot-turned-pass sending Adli through on goal, in which he took it well.  Who would have thought, that I would have combined with Adli to produce a goal...

After the game, we exchanged hugs and handshakes, and proceeded for some routine cheeky McDonald's.  It's now 1.41 am and I'm waiting for the laundry to get done so I can shove them into my bags.  My back (and bag, I guess) is gonna get destroyed.

I'm probably gonna post another entry tomorrow, so I'll save the waterworks and wisdom until then.  Besides, I've already cried twice today already.

Gold - Chet Faker

Busted

Yesterday, I had the privilege to do this:

Indeed!  I got to see Adam Savage and Jamie Hyneman of the MythBusters TV show, a 14-year-long show off Discovery channel.  

Sadly, January 2016's season of MythBusters would be the last season of the show.  Thus, the two are back for a nationwide tour for their final hurrah.  The event included basic science experiments Being Jamie's Farewell tour, there were segments for individual Q&As as well.  The evening was full of science experiments (albeit basic ones like fulcrums, and pressure mats), including a show-and-tell of the tools Adam and Jamie have created (including Jamie's steel-toed shoes made from gas cylinder caps), and behind-the-scenes work done while shooting the show.  

I was in the very back end of the ground floor with Russell, in the shade

The night was capped off with a wonderful display of everything MythBusters: Adam and Jamie blasted (with paintballs) a fellow crewman, clad in medieval steel mail with custom paintball markers.  Adam had a heavy machine gun, and Jamie cheated by brandishing his quad barrel turret, reminiscent of WW2 anti-aircraft guns.  What made this a spectacle was the fact that the audience got to witness it behind a blast shield (kind of), with a POV-camera from the iron sights of Jamie's contraption.  Such a glorious ending to a show.

I know a couple of young aspiring minds had confessed their admiration to the duo on that night, but here's mine. To Adam and Jamie, thank you for being an inspiration to a young, bored teenage Malaysian boy to venture into the discipline of Science and Technology.  Granted I did not pursue a degree in Mechanical Engineering, but nevertheless, you two have cemented your spots as my lifelong idols, and my undying appreciation.

I'm With You - Grouplove

Raw

All I have now is raw emotions.  Unfiltered, unscripted, uncontrollable emotions.  I might regret it.  Hell, I should.  But I can't internalize this.  I'm not even going to delete any word I type down.

I love you.  There's no two ways about it.  This is my prerogative problem (stop trying to be sophiticated, Fang!).  Not yours.  So don't feel sad for me.  No pity, no guilt, no negative connotations.  Leave me to wrestle with my own emotional undoing.  It's not that you'll make it worse by helping: you'll make it better for sure.  

But I need to do this by myself.  If I'm ever going to have someone love me, then I deserve to be loved.  We accept the love we think we deserve.  Yes, I'm taking that quote off "Perks of Being a Wallflower", and it rings through true (goddamnit).

I don't deserve you.  Not because I am not capable, because I am.  I just don't believe that I'm capable.  

I'm not some good-looking person with the athletic (I still can't goddamn spell "athletic" right) build.  I don't have the charm of a smooth-talker, with the charisma to charm anyone.  

All I have is my sincerity, and my kindness.  My wit, my diligence, my loyalty, my self-sufficiency, my low-maintanence, my simplicity, are all expendable.  

I'm not angry at you: I will never be and you don't warrant that.  I'm angry at my inabilities to be a finished product now.  I understand that I'm a person-in-making, and I shouldn't compare myself to others.  I won't do so anymore.

I want someone to love me back.  I know I deserve that.  I just don't see it yet.

As for you, you brilliant, gorgeous, charming woman, you...  You better remind your man how blessed he is to have you for himself.  You deserve nothing but the most beautiful words, the most precise moments, and the most beautiful sights to compliment your whole being.

Because I can't love you as a lover, so I might as well love you as a friend.  And that's my problem; not yours.

*edited on 7 Jan 2019*. Sorry it took so long to realise that I needed to respect everyone in this story. I have since realized that this phase came from a moment of weakness and uncertainty, and that I've unfairly placed/dropped all my troubles and struggles onto a great person without thinking of the lasting consequences.

Hindsight does that to you. But I also wanted to take the effort to profusely apologize for my actions. I had ruined a friendship in response. And that's on me, which I'll carry with for the rest of my life.

So here's a note from an older, more mid-life crisis-er Fang: know what you want out of a relationship.

Is it for companionship? A quick fling? Marriage? Everyone has different perceptions of love. And it's never wrong to fall in love. It is criminal, if you don't know what you're looking for, though.

And above all, love yourself. Being with someone isn't about fixing yourself. It's about sharing your feelings and thoughts and life with someone you care for deeply.

Love furiously, love hard, and most importantly, love you. 

Miss You - Alabama Shakes

View

(I didn't know where to put this paragraph.)  Hopefully Hanan and Adli can piece together a nice travel vlog from our trip.

Portland has been charmingly weird since day one.  Street arts and stickers bearing the slogan "Keep Portland Weird" succinctly epitomizes the nature of the city.  

From Sam, the quirky cashier at Rocket Fizz, on her first day of work (plus the weird-ass candy and soda bottles in the store), to our free personality test offered by the Church of Scientology in Portland (which took waaaaaay too long), to the pastry oddities of Voodoo Doughnut, and the readers' paradise of Powell's Books (the biggest bookstore in the nation spanning five floors and an entire city block). I had only visited two of the eight-ish sections in the store in my hour-long visit there. Shame that my limited luggage space prevents me from buying any books.

And that's only day one.

*I felt that leaving the post at that would be a nice way to keep things short and simple.  I've tried trimming off the verbal fat, and it is still a honking pile of dry information.  But if you really, really wanted to know more about my trip, do proceed*

Tuesday was gloomy, with the rain keeping Portland in an overcast.  We messed around at Cathedral Park, under the St. Johns bridge, and by the Willamette River.  We traded the cold for the shelter of Portland's oldest church (literally, the Historic Old Church... imaginative, I know!), observing a Russian lady coaching young girls in playing the piano.  Sunset was upon us as we reached the Oregon Cultural District.  Deciding to revisit the district on a later time, we left for the food trucks on SW 4th and Alder St.  Being a sucker for Mediterranean food, I had falafels.  On full bellies, we did the Shanghai Tunnel tour, learning about Portland's history of slave trade of the olden times.  We finished the night off with hipster audiophilia at Everyday Music, followed by Union Square thrift shopping. The rest of the night saw us play Exploding Kittens (Juana got both the safe and NSFW versions) and save the world in Pandemic.

Hump-day had us pick up where we left off.  The group had visited opposing museums: Adli and I went to the Oregon Historical Society Museum whereas the ladies chose contemporary art.  The museum included a gallery on Portland's backstory, and included an exhibit on WW1 and WW2 for this year.  The exhibit opened up to the original documents of the Fourteen Points plan (proposed by President Woodrow Wilson  after the end of World War 1, which was rejected) and an Enigma Machine (used in WW2 to code and decode Nazi transmissions), including audio and video clips from the moment war broke out.  Two hours later, we had visited the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry (OMSI for short).  Due to time constraints, we did only the submarine tour in the USS Blueback.  It was amazing how a relatively small sub could fit 88 personnel, with congested walkways and instruments crammed into every nook and cranny permissible.  This was my personal vacation highlight: experiencing how a nval vessel works and the understanding the mechanics of how it works.  The end of the tour saw us meet with Portland's rush hour traffic.  So we had to forego our plan of listening to live music at Jimmy Mak's Pub & Grill.  

Thanksgiving day had us hiking Multnomah Falls and its neighbors. Although the second largest waterfall in America might be underwhelming when compared to first place Niagara Falls, it was a majestic view nonetheless. We struggled to hike Oneonta Gorge due to the fallen logs strewn along the 3-foot deep river (we didn't want to get wet). Adli's ineptitude in finding balance was quite the spectacle, as he slowly clamored from log to log on all fours.  That trek also saw me belly flop on a boulder in a misjudged attempt to climb it. Overall, hiking was still fun.  That night saw us gorging on turkey and lazing around for the night.

Which brings it to the finale.  The last day of our trip here and was a signal of things to come: my departure from the United States of America: that's baffling. But I'll leave that for another day.  We skipped the Macy's Holiday Parade, which was expected considering how much turkey we had consumed the night before.  We spent our last day in Oregon donating our extra food to the homeless, pursuing retail therapy in Woodburn, followed by a Vietnamese dinner at Luc Lac, hipster ice cream at Salt & Straw and last-minute postcard mailing.  It was a busy trip, but we definitely made the best of our time there.  There was even live music at the airport, so we did enjoy some music in the end.

Even our unexpected ten-minute cross-airport sprint in Detroit couldn't live down the vacation, despite us having to play victim to delayed departure and missing the flight as a result.

Franks Kaktus - Dungen