Cheaper in those days

My mum used to say that everything used to be cheap. She would remind me that she only needed RM 0.50 cent and it was enough for her whole school day. She said bas fares were only 10 cent, two glasses of drinks for 10 cent and a lunch for 15 cent. She could even save 15 cent a day. Yeah, things were that cheap.

Today, you are lucky if you could save some from spending RM 10 a day. What can I say, even a trip to the toilet cost 30 cent?

Imagine if I could travel back and bring a long a ten ringgit note with me. I would be rich, rich I say. Since going to school would only cost me 10 cent, imagine what 10 ringgit would do? I’d be traveling the whole country.

Well maybe not all places, I’m not even sure if transportation were good in those days. Look at the picture below.

This picture of bas mini (we Malaysian call it) might not look appealing these days, but in those days it must have been like riding the Ferrari. Only the town people could afford taking a bus. Mum also said that her friends used to travel 10 kilometers (6.25 miles) in a bicycle everyday just to be in school and another 10 kilometers to get home. It was a common traveling transportation in those days.

These days you find people doing it just for the sake of having fun. I guess that is why people in those days don’t go to gyms to shed pound.

Radios were the source of their entertainment. They even listen to sport matches on it. That is why radio commentators were like the celebrities. Black and white televisions however were only for the rich. Dad told me that he would have to go to his friend house just to catch the wonder years show.

Things are different now, what used to cost for 1 ringgit might triple in today’s life (that is if we find it on sale). A movie used to cost my dad only 1 ringgit; but today with the same amount you could only get a glass of hot tea.

Inflation?

note from me

hey friends, new and old.. Form the ones that I love their writing so dearly to the ones that I see potential to be great.

I would like to say that I enjoyed reading your blogs. I don’t know how to describe the feeling maybe I am just an addict for good write ups.

I know that I have a lot to improve in my writings, but I know that I have you guys as my role model.

Do you know that each and every day, I would check on your blogs just to see for new post? :-P yeap each and everyone of you.

It seems like I now have a habit of stalking your blogs..

Hope that this writing journey would continue to what ever end it brings ..and I hope we will continue to write better…

hugs and kisses…

yogurt.

to read chapter 1 click here

Chapter 1: Hold on, don’t leave

I hugged and begged for him not to leave. I regretted what I said that pierced his heart and hurt him deep. But he left as he was determined inside wanting to leave.

I look around reminiscing what had happened. The floor was a mess and the closet was empty. Indeed he did really want to leave.

I tried to wonder if things could have been different. If those dreaded words were not mentioned, could he have chose to stay? Stay here with me. I feel guilty and wrong for I did not see that he would never again want me.

I was angry now I feel lonely. Never have I ever felt this empty. I look at the kitchen and all I see are the food I prepared that he slammed to the floor. How could I hurt him when all I did was for him? His favourite dish his favourite drink, was not even looked and tasted by him.

I tried to put myself together and clean up the mess, but the picture of us together made my knees weak.

The empty chair that he used to sit and rest, bare his scent that put my heart not to rest. I cried horribly when I rethink, the door he closed that ended all this.

I rest on the floor thinking that death is better than this. Closing my eyes wanting to forget but the sound of his angry words keeps ringing in my head. What is the purpose to live when living reminds me of his heart no longer with me?

I want to stand up but my knees are too weak; so I stayed there and remained still. I wish for him to come back even if it is only to pick up what is left of his stuff, but all I see is his space empty. All of his have been taken away and all of it I shall never see again.

I know that this is the end, but my heart believed that it is different. I tried to call but his phone was switched off, so I text him for the forgiveness that he did not hold; for I only hope that he appeared in what used to be our home.

Don’t leave me, are the phrases I used, to comfort when he is still around and to shower from his burning tone.

Why did I not see that all this was coming? That he wanted to leave from the beginning. Maybe it is me that love him more. Because loving him was the real sin. He only wanted the money and not me, which he have none but I voluntarily provided him.

I was the fool but I dare not believe, as I fear his absence more than his integrity. The truth was clear but my love for him was clearer. It was my mistake to fall greatly in love more than he would ever love me back. I have done all the giving but never getting them back. I have not only lost but I have lost so much.

His words and his promises were nothing but a lie, though my love for him was true and can never die. The texts that used to make me smile now forever make me cry. My tears drop heavily though I want them to stop. I am all alone and nothing could change that.

I finally stood up and walk to our room, not because I was better but because I missed his presences. His pillow scent was all I have, to remind me of where he used to rest his head. I did not stop crying even as I have hugged his pillow, for it is not enough and I wanted of him more.

I prayed to God, the one who is up above, to trade my happiness just to have him around. The only love that could take this pain away is not in anyone’s hand but only in him, the guy that used to call me his babe.

I wanted God to make me happy now, not tomorrow or the day after. But sometimes the impossible are impossible and what is end will always be nothing more but an end.

My tears are plenty if only he could see; that a girl who is I, have love him this deep. I cried and felt asleep crying; as I know when my next day begins I’ll start crying again.


(not based on my real life)

butterfly

My wings flew me from places,
traveling above surfaces.
Scouting for,
a flower that does not bore.

Nothing less than perfect,
so I shall not regret.
The smell of blue, red and yellow,
the beauty that I desire to hold.

I dare the weather,
the scare and the bitter,
Though tiny and small,
I try not to fall.

Don’t fail me wings,
so I’ll be a king.
My treasure are flowers,
that bare such suffer.

Mercy my journey,
I live not plenty.
I choose so little,
but risk till wrinkle.

How to be a good writer ?

This is a very difficult topic for me. I am not a good writer and I am only just learning to be one. I don’t know why it is difficult for me to share with people. Whether it is because I am lack of experience or just bad with English, I think I am just bad at both.

I read a few author biographies today and found out that most of them started early when they were still young. Some were excellent even at their very young age. Many have actually participated with serious writings making them well prepared to write good stories. So the question is how am I supposed to catch up with these guys?

Learning anything can be tough when it is the first time. I know that to be true when people do criticise my writing. Lack of coherent, too simple and sounds funny. All of them gave a general statement. I am willing to learn but find it hard to know where I should start. Do I revise on my grammar? or do I go and do something exciting so that I actually have something to write?

I read many blogs that I found interesting. Thus, I am aware that length is not the reason why people still read them. The message also does not need to be extraordinary and can be simple. It is just how you present them in writing that matters.

When I read good blogs, I can see that they have characters and distinctive style that goes along with it. Some are touching while some are thrilling to read. No matter how you look at them, they have class and standard.

My blog (writing) however does not have that. A term my friend use to describe are “niche”. He told me that, writing can be about anything. What I write in my blog matters to my readers as what is written tells a story about myself. The personality of a particular person can be seen with just a glance of their writing.

I am still a seed metaphorically in this area. I just need to be patient and keep on doing it. so I hope this explain why I keep changing the stuff I write in my blog. I am experimenting and trying different stuff.

In time I hope to make acquaintances with people all over the world through my writing. I hope to get to know good writers and continue to enjoy reading their works. Besides that I also would like to know new bloggers who are trying to be a good writer too. I want to read and observe their improvement from time to time. It would be nice to know people struggling like me to be good in writing.

Writing can actually be a lot of work when you think about it. To start one must be ready to accept that it is not going to be a pleasant journey all the time. There are many type of people out there, some are motivating while some are blatant. It is I who have to set my mind to get there.

I do hope I could be a great writer. Even though it will take years to actually improve, I think it is going to be worth the while.

Spoiler (only read this after watching season 2x03 of the leverage show)

I like this episode in particular because of how the story indirectly sends out the idea of “do not abuse small kids”. I burst to tears where justice was brought and I assume saved the young boy life.

The story was actually about some other criminal justice thing but hidden was another story about a child abuse. This story tried to show how simple it is to make a small kid believe that being abuse by their parent is okay. The kid wanted to tell the law enforcer about the bare he burdened but was afraid as his father has connections with many police officers. In a way the kid thought he just have to take the punch and not shout. However one of the leverage guy used his magic talent to make it right thus save the kid.

What made me think is that, in almost every part of the world, small kids are abuse because they can not fight back. It is a coward way of letting off steam. Children are supposed to get the whole package of what childhood should be. I remembered my childhood very well; I was spoiled.

It should never be the other way around. I heard that some say it was to discipline kids. Do they really know the difference between disciplining a kid and abusing a kid? I am sorry but in my head, power can easily be abused. Since in this case a child depends entirely on their parents for moral compass, shelter, love and food; they don’t really have much to defend themselves.

I feel outraged by some people who justify it by saying that it is to discipline them so they need to hit the kids. If it is so right then why does it is always done when people are not looking and not around? Why do it in the house behind closed doors?

Reality is abusers are plenty, in that show (even though it is only a show) the kid was lucky as the hero could see pass through the kids eye. He realises that the kid was actually carrying more than just a broken arm.

If only we could all become attentive like this hero.

Superstitions

Today I actually wanted to write about something different. I wanted to write what superstition is and how an unsubstantial practice survives through the time of modern technology. Why do some people still believe in it and why some do not?

However as I was reading articles about superstition, the keyword seems to links to black magic and voodoo stuff. Even historical facts pops up telling how bad it was when many superstition practitioners was too obsessed and had many strong supporters. The boon of this behaviour seems to go on and on and with out realisng it, I was half scared myself in writing about it.

I wanted to post about how superstition can be used as an historical fact. For example in Malaysia, there is an ethnic which believe that the souls of the dead people lay rest on the Peak of Mount Kinabalu, the highest mountain in Malaysia. Well I am not sure about the soul thing, but I do know that if this belief was passed down from one generation to another, it would mean that even in those days, without a proper measurement, they knew that Mount Kinabalu was the highest peak. Imagine if there was another mountain higher than Mount Kinabalu, wouldn’t the superstition be different?

My post would have tried to link between actual facts with superstition. They must have witnessed some event or stayed in a surrounding which made them believe in their superstition. Some how it started with people observing nature, then it turned into a practice that was passed down to the younger generation.



However, my reading had spooked me even before I started writing. My findings have shown how criminals use the superstition card in their defense of their action. Some even try to escape the law by justifying what they do is not wrong. Thus, making it hard to be on the side where you actually agree that superstition are important facts.

If I choose to disagree, I would have said that superstition allows unscrupulous behaviour to exist. Superstition can actually confuse people with reality. Without a doubt people would have had better life if superstition never existed.

Superstition stuff is actually at a thin line, the line where everyone will hate the existences of it. I have read an article about a professor trying to link the behaviour of a pigeon to superstition but have met strong disagreement from his colleagues. An article of why superstition are stupid are also every where and not hard to find.



In my opinion, superstition can either be good or bad. In some culture superstition are reminders to be safe. For example, the chinese Feng Shui. They have a belief that sharp edges in the house would cause bad luck to the family. It is not entirely a lie as sharp edges could injure small kids. Other example is, do not go out during the shift time of evening to night. In my place this is the most productive time for mosquito and small insects to bite and feed on humans’ blood which could cause dengue or fever by the transmission of these diseases.

When you rethink about it, superstitions are not all bad, humans are. We are the ones who made it look bad. In my defense for superstition is that, there are reasons to why people start doing what they do. It is common sense that some would agree and like while some would criticise and disagree.

5 things I hate about the leverage show

I hate that it is untrue,
I hate that it will take an hour of my time,
I hate that there are 3 seasons of it,
I hate that I never knew it earlier,
I hate that it is so damn good.

The show says it all. It is like the new batman without the costume show. You guys should never start watching it. It is too addictive.

Now I am going to sleep but before that I have an episode to watch. I actually think that i would go to sleep after that.

so naive

In serious need of an intervention

I have been feeling that i am less productive these days. I try to write but i ended up with just a paragraph at the end of the day. I have been scribbling with words trying to make the connection with what i actually want to express but i feel like its too cliche. Need to get enlightened.

I have been watching old movies and realise that i have been watching them over and over again. I am currently out of words. My vocabulary seems limited at the moment. what i write seems like have been written before. Plus the crowded open house invitation i have been receiving just makes me unacceptably lazy.

I thought that by meeting more people i will get more ideas on what to write. Disappointingly, when old friends meet up they tend to talk a lot about the old days. Very..very old stories that i don't feel like writing about it.

I want to write something fresh. Today i start to realise that i have not done any serious reading besides the one i have to for like a month or two.

I understand now that my desperate need for a serious reading is obvious. I also remember that i once said that reading is actually the maximum self satisfaction.

Perhaps i'll get a book to read today... damn i am on fire....

dependent or indpendent?

My dad used to say that life is like a football game. The different is that you have to play the game not only as the striker but as the goal keeper, the defender, the midfielder, the substitutes and even the manager. You don't really have a coach to tell you what strategy would work best nor do you have substitutes if you need to rest. You are on your own and you don't really have other people to depend upon.

In life, the wins are sometime measured by the success of being capable as a person. However we are not born capable. We were born in this world as babies. Babies need to be feed, cleaned and educated with a goal that they would learn to do it on their own. Thus, supports my dad's philosophy of life through the game of football.

sometimes i wonder would i ever really be independent. I have always had financial support from my parents and i even have friends to guide me when i needed hints to solve a problem.

I even looked at myself today wondering if the clothes i wear was actually chosen for me. In directly, i wore the clothes which i think looks good in the eye of the people who looks, does not that proves that the people around me are the ones who chose what best for my looks. This explains the Lady Gaga phenomenon on being free in fashion (not to say that i want to be Gaga).

What is freedom if all you do is to pleased the people around you? well, do not get me wrong. Although having awareness to people views are important part of being a community, we sometime have to think by the fact that perhaps all our views was implanted on us unconsciously.

The media have played the most important role of affecting my generation. Every single time we watch commercials, we are unconsciously drawn to their terms of definition. For example, I remembered the day when i start craving for waffles. No offense, but Malaysian people don't really have plenty of shops selling waffles in those days, so how did i get that craving? ahaaaa... A&W commercials.

In conclusion, i can no longer fight the fact we are all biased in some ways. Saying that we are not biased could also mean that you are biased in a certain way. I guess at the end of the day the question of who are actually the manager of our life would probably not be just ourselves.

am ugly and a nerd....

i am ugly.... thats why you chose to ignore me.

i am ugly.....

but i can't help it..

i wish that i was prettier than her.

i can not wrap my head in this stuff that i find disturbing my day, that you are no longer single and available.

i almost cried because you chose her. but i did try to be beautiful.

i am a nerd that is why i chose to be reclusive.

perhaps not the genius talented nerd but i want to be that, i see that its my only salvation because i am not pretty.

when you needed me i was there, i help you financially and emotionally. i even almost bought you an ipod when i am only using a black and white phone.

but to win your heart i must have beauty that i can never hold.

when the world was against you, i was on your side. i even cried trying to change myself for you.

but i was not pretty enough.

i guess i am ugly.

i am the girl that has lost a fight....

perhaps i shall never smile by your side anymore..

you are the beauty and i am the beast.

but i wonder why this fairy tale can not work.

i guess you wanted a beauty and beauty story...

you needed beauty so much that you had to chose her.

i accept my defeat...

for i am only ugly and a nerd.