Overloaded and not liking it a bit

Religion overload! My Facebook is being cramped with self-appointed religious scholars preaching of Hell and Heaven through second-hand postings. On the pretext of sharing, these people trust banners of pain and misery into my face, seemingly feeling that they are doing a good thing. Well, it doesn't mean one single thing or a reward from high heaven. Sharing postings doesn't buy these people a ticket to heaven. Putting across the idea that is God is as judgmental as them doesn't create a thing to me. Because, God is never that judgmental in accordance to human perception. It's His discretion to put who in hell or who in heaven. He is full of love and compassion and mercy but yet, through only a miniscule portion of their selective education, these people paint nothing else but woe and misery to who they think are sinners. They stand up, bend down and prostrate but yet, lack the capabilities of an inwardly practicing respect for people who are more inwardly religious. They think they already have tickets, stamped with the approval of the most high, to enter heaven. What? By just posting second hand banners? Posting speeches of narrow-minded gurus? Please. Get a life, people. You will never know what comes the next day. You can actually be on the verge of death and one single thought at that moment of departure can decide your place. It is not about heaven and hell you should be concerned most about. That is the domain of the One and Only. It should be about living, respecting others, practicing social love with one and another, caring for one another and not stealing, gossiping, defaming and using one another for pleasure and self-profit. Thank you.

Hmmm...

It has been almost two weeks into the Ramadan. Ramadan used to be magical to me, a spiritual experience but now, I do not feel it much. Perhaps, I have rusted or perhaps, I have gotten old and matured and have lost the innocence to feel spirituality. Or perhaps, I have changed quite a lot these past few years, leaden with anxiety, depression, anger, hatred and contempt. Perhaps, the heart has built too many walls with which to shield itself from the outside world that it has grown sceptical of the world. Perhaps. There are too many perhaps. Perhaps and maybes. Those are the only two major words I use in my mind nowadays. 

Life is a lot like jumping off an aircraft without a parachute. The moment one steps off the door, the only way to go is down. The eventuality is a certainty. But what gives the illusion of float is only temporary. Some people step off and never got quite used to falling off, so that they fall ungracefully, screaming even, turning round and round. Some fall in grace, seemingly to fly like a bird, winds on their faces, smiles all round. I would like to be like them, but as it is, I am struggling to keep afloat with some control. The ground is there, down there for sure and every second and minute count, to make this temporary fall, a good one. Because it is the only one. There is no returning to the aircraft. I like this flow of thought though. Everyone falls, everyone dies.  

The E-mail

The e-mail is so much a part of getting things done now, so much so, it is the necessary gatekeeper for information to be requested and information to be provided. Nowadays, it is not sufficient to just meet with the specific person who holds the information. Information can only be provided when an e-mail is forwarded, signifying a formal request even though the person is sitting next to me. I must be from the old school where words will just suffice to instigate an informative response. I feel like a corporate hillbilly now. Times have changed. I wonder where I can find another company which does not need the e-mail correspondence. The e-mail is an added bureaucracy. FOS at most times.

It rains outside. A second time, this week in Kuala Lumpur. The rain will help to reduce the prevalent dustiness in the air. It does not matter that much to me. I go in and out of air-conditined spaces. The only negative thing is its effect on vehicular traffic movement. KL roads are like clogged intestines during and after a downpour. I cannot really tell where the rectum is actually. I have always avoided peak traffic hour but yesterday, I had accidentally dropped my keys at the PJ Secret Recipe. Silently brooding, my wife (on her birthday) had to drive me to PJ through the thick traffic and back again to Bangsar through the thick traffic. It was no fun for me either when Secret Recipe still registers a telephone nuber which is no longer valid. It was no fun to walk from the office to Bukit Pantai, amidst the dirt and dust and the uncomfortable heat. It was the repercussion from a shallow pocket and a low sofa chair. I had mulled over how not to lose the keys. Hang around neck, insert in hankerchief, hang on chain to trousers and even hang on those places that only see little of the day. What to do. Life is like that. Sometimes we lose things and we get them back and sometimes we don't. I don't mind losing the bad ones, though.

On birthdays and the parting of ways

Today is my wife's birthday and  I was the fiftieth person (so she said) to have wished her a happy birthday. I was not late on the day but rather on the hour. As for myself, I frown on my own birthday. If immortality is what I seek, then I would not care much about the birthdays. However, as it is, we are all mortals and so, the birthday is like the milestone on the perilious journey towards the end. I wonder if everyone else in the world look forward to retirement and old age. Some of course, did not make it and falter along the way, either from cancer, accidents, murder, war or famine. Whatever it is, a birthday is a rejoice of one's entry into the world. I don't remember if I had smiled on coming out from my mother. But my parents insisted that as a baby I was quiet and brooding and minded my own business. I am still like that, more or less. Hmmm..

Speaking of retirement, this year marks the twentieth year of my career in this company. It has been that long. But today,  I will commence to initiate my exit. That will be the milestone of event that I have been waiting for, for the past one year. The bird has to go free, the horse brought out to pasture. Of course, there can be many words to describe it. I am elated. I see the open door, and outside it, the expansive plain with some hills over yonder, with birds flying against the blue sky. I see nothing else.

Quaint?

Crisp was the morning as I drove under the tall trees lining both sides of the winding road after having sent my son to his school. The thought came to mind of the word "quaint". Whenever that word comes to mind, I am brought to the scenario of a small brick cottage with  a seasoned chimney on its roof, overlooking a treeless plain  at the end of a small path which had crossed  a short ancient bridge under which a brook runs. To my mind, that is the definition of the word "Quaint". Somehow, this morning the mind wonders if it can apply the same definition for the road that I was driving on. The trees and the winding road had suggested that, I think. For a few minutes, I argued with the mind that the scenario in front of me could not measure up to the parameters of the current definition of the word quaint. The mind retorted that it could be used for the scene given the calmness and its aloofness from the busyness of life that it had shown. I argued that such was only available intermittently but not permanently as opposed to the small cottage by the brook. It lacked consistency, I added, of displaying the same sentiment all day or for all year. It just happened at the moment in time for the road with the right proportion and combination of sunlight through the trees, a clear blue sky with some clouds and of course the trees. It would not be peaceful once people drive their cars to go to work.  

Finally the mind relented and acquisced with my argument because I had been objective with my reasons and so it did not sulk and rant like it would normally do. And so the scenario of that small cottage with the chimney and the brook running  beside it has survived another attempt at revision. I doubt that such a scenario really exists but it exists in my mind and that is all that matters. The word "quaint" is the label for the imagination I have of this scenery. Surely it will look timeless but when rationality prevails, I would want the cottage to have internet access with proper utilities and of course, a car by the side. No. These will not be part of the scenery of course. Because it is not going to happen. It is only residing in my mind after all.

Sometimes...

Sometimes there is just cause for lamenting. Imagine going to a meeting with the facts from a Due Diligence Study and being challenged, not on the facts but through negative intonations and statements based on fiction. But I have come across these situations because the persons in front of me have not done what they are supposed to do. It is amazing that some people can seemingly wield the strength to opress and subsequently suppress facts through their capability to talk in condescending manners. But it happens. Stupid people are experts in condescension. It serves no purpose because in the end, the company that they are selling is strewn garbage. I don't buy garbage. Sorry.

I am referring to Mergers & Acquisitions. Lately I have been reminiscing over my past work, rummaging through the old files and documents simply because I have kept them for so long. Most often than not, negotiations at the table have been conducted in the pleasing of manners with proper documentation and justification for arguments and through follow-ups with more documentation. These scenarios quickly fade into oblivion. What really stays in the mind however, are those meetings with fools who have no justification but tons of pride. It is like eating food without consciously knowing in the first instance of putting it in the mouth, that it has been bad. But fools will always exist, in the highest forms, bedecked with names like Director, Financial Controller as such. But they will be fools just the same. I have no time for village idiots who know not that their companies are technically bankrupt and mismanaged. Really, those times of sitting at meetings have been wasted. That is not to say that idiots only exist in M&As. There are many, in departments and divisions each holding on to loose sand and fighting vehemently just so they can emerge from meetings unscathed. Some people build sand castles. Nothing more. And they get paid for that. Sheesh...

Nothing in particular

I do not have anything to say. But that does not mean that I don't feel strongly on some matters. It is just that, the floor is sparse, and I only see a few alphabets, here and there. They are just not sufficient for me to form sentences or provide some coherence to those sentences. No, it is not one of those days. That would be like sitting on a buttress of a big old tree which has branches low enough to almost touch the ground and on those branches, many leaves forming a natural curtain, so that when the breeze blows, the curtain would raise a little, revealing some activity of life on the outside. But here, in the shade, there is nothing else to do but feel the sporadic breeze on my face and listen to the chirping of the birds. No, it is not happiness. It is a calmness, seemingly of no remorse and no euphoria. Simply being. It is not easy to be simply being. Stones are simply being. Trees, like the old tree that I am sitting down under, is simply being. The breeze which blows on my face is simply being.

You see, there are not many words on the floor. When there are no words, there is no remorse and no euphoria because there are no more words to describe them.

Which Car?

It has become more difficult to ascertain the reality of things through getting more review material, and in this case, specifically reviews on the car. And in this case, reviews specifically on the BMW and the Jaguar. It is really the case of the elephant and the blind men. Given the same car, every reviewer comes out with differing opinions, so much so, that it is difficult to make one single conclusion. I do wonder, if this applies to all other things as well. I think that I have read more than thirty reviews over the months on the specific 535i and XF. Always, when I am about to make a conclusion which car to consider, there is the criticisms or highlights of the car's deficiencies. So much so, that I have come to the conclusion, thanks to the official and non-official critics, that there is no such thing as a perfect car and that technology is not sufficient to provide the perfect car. As long as there is individualistic thinking, there is no such thing as a good car. The only way to do it is to test drive each one and make conclusions from that. Every other critique is garbage to me.

I like the XF because it has better looks. It has more charisma. To me, it is. Somebody else might differ. But another would say that the 535i is more roadworthy, a more reliable performer. Some say that the 535i has got more power than the XF. Living in this part of the world with undulating roads (not from the terrain but from bad engineering) and few long-distance highways, comfort would reign higher over speed. At least, I qualify that based on my own perception. There a more BMWs on the road while the Jaguar remains a "sometimes" machine. Do we need to look like the rest or stand out from the rest? The answer is of course, obvious. "But the service quality of a Jag is not as good as ours", commented the BMW salesperson to me. That is also a matter of consideration also. If there is not many Jags on the road, its mechanics will not have the adequate exposure to provide good repair work. That is logical, so to say. I like the XF but feel that I am being pushed by rationality towards the 535i. It is a difficult thing.

 

So where does this end? I really don't know. I do not have the wealthier option for a Maserati or Ferrari. I think that these are cars in their own class. After all, criticism abound when there are similar models. I am back to where I started. Just the other day, I bought another three more magazines on the 535i and the XF. That totals to about eight magazines thusfar, not to mention the numerous references to Youtube and the rest of the web on car reviews. I think it would be simpler to just toss a coin and let it happen. Sigh..

Guru? What Guru?

I am a sceptic, through and through. Management is a science. It is a frequent sentence written in text books on Management. If it goes by scientific methods, that is. It is also an art. Another frequent sentence written in text books on Management. It is an art when there is no definitive approach to managing. And then there are the "Gurus", supposedly wise teachers who write books on Management. So called, because what is written can hardly be derived from scientific methods. Normally, it comes under the "Art" section. Good reading with case studies. For as long as there are people managing, there will always be different styles of effective management. I am a sceptic when it comes under Art section. I am a sceptic when authors I do not know well enough, seemingly write books and impose their ideas to the public. When I come across e-mails from colleagues of what a Management guru is saying, I view their words as nothing more than an advertorial. Advertisements, in the form of words, designed to bring the reader's interest and awe. There was one e-mail about a statement by this author that executives should not whine. Whining is an emotional complaint of a management action or procedure that does not make logical sense. Executives don't whine unless there is something wrong with the way the Management has done something or if there is an incomplete comprehension of the procedure due to an embargo on information. If executives don't whine, no grievance, then you don't need people to run the business. The author's statement does not make any sense. It is entirely ludicrous, to even expect that people should not whine. Unless of course, the author sees himself as a part of management. I wonder, how many authors out there, have the requisite experience to even write about management. As long as there are fools who cannot know the difference, there will always be a management author who will write nonsense.

When Dreams become real

I think that in each person, there are aspirations which are not totally in view but remain latent, hidden, smaller than applets, pixel-size even, of wants, of wishes. When the mind perceives of the impossibility of achieving these wishes, it ensures that the dots remain as they are. However, when there is a greater possibility of success in achieving them, they show themselves, in the form of ambitions, in the form of objectives. What would go on in the mind of a poor man? Would he have the dreams and the wishes of having a big house or houses and cars and expensive stuff? Of course, he should, within. If he plods through life, without as much as having the possibility, they will possibly remain as they are. If not, they will become like thorns, inspiring jealousy and bitterness for those who have them. I believe that without any likelihood, without any perceived chance of getting, the ordinary person will just keep his wishes as hidden, like cells without life, without light, without relevance. Perhaps, I am only referring to myself and this opinion may not be applicable to others. I don't really care but I am surmising here. Now, if the poor man, meaning, a person who is economically deficient, without a potential surplus, has been given the real possibility of having an economic surplus, his wishes will take form and he will begin to visualise the possibilities. What's my point here? Well, we may visualise what is already a near possibility but not before that. I am trying to find the equation. There are just so many self-help books on shelves, in bookstores, perused and bought and read by just so many people, ever hopeful of achieving their dreams. This is the secret, the author will say. Another will say, one will need to visualise. One will say, one must believe and so on and so on. But how many people will achieve their dreams based on the inspiring books that they have read? Is there a statistical research on this? Can there be an establishment of a probability profile of readers who have read and succeeded in their lives from reading self-help books? That would be good. At the very least, we can ascertain the effectiveness of a self-help book. I wonder, how many people have been deluded into buying and reading and believing in one thing and then, having gone through the process of going according to the recommendations of the book and not getting any results, to visit yet again, the bookshelf with the self-help books and repeat the same process again. I wonder. I do wonder, how some authors must have achieved their ambitions through creating some ambiguous principles of success and putting them down into books for the gullible and the consistently-deluded to enrich them.

Year of the Rabbit

The Associated Press wrote that among key predictions for the new year beginning Feb. 3: terrorist threats, continuing tensions between China and the United States, natural disasters around the world and wobbly global markets. Events such as these could have been predicted using trend forecasting. It is not difficult. It is nothing new. The world is dying; we all know it. Natural disasters will happen and global markets will be affected by natural disasters. Tensions between countries will happen and wars cost money and that also significantly impacts the global markets. Markets rise and fall as they always do, and only the very few know where it will go, with sufficient information.

Most importantly, to know, is to locate the exact location of the natural disasters. Markets will always be wobbly, interdependency from the depency on common currencies, dependence on external labour productivity on the basis of widening the profit margin and dependence on external commodities. Price and cost differentials have provided for cross border trading and with it, economic interdependencies.

Forecasting is easy if the fortune teller keeps updated on current events and previous events; like question spotting for the A level examinations. Almost anyone can say it. Yes, there will be natural disasters. There will never be a year without one. There will never be a year without a country going against another. There will never be a year without wobbly global markets. There will never be a year without a fortune teller telling that calamities will befall. So there.

Is work a way of life?

Is work a way of life? That was the question my mind posed to me this morning, as I saw the vehicles on the roads, bumper to bumper, with clear intentions of reaching the respective offices in time. It looks like it. Working is a life. It is not strange, it is not different, it is life. Almost everyone works. It is not only about making a living, but it is about living a life in work. And when the life of work is done, there is the life of retirement. And when that is done too, there is the life of no life.

Lesson in humility or lesson in humiliation?

I do not know what prompted me to remember the incident that happened in 1983 this morning. It is something that still bothers me. It was my first job, in a cable manufacturing company. I reported to the CFO, a Chinese, Foo was his name, I think and he was all what you may imagine to be for an Accountant - bespectacled, thin and pale, hair parted by the side of the head. On that particular day, my first day of work as an Accounts Executive, I sat by my desk. He asked to see me and I stepped into his office. "I can see that you are quite artistic", he said, although he could not possibly see that as I had not done anything tangible that could lead to a person thinking that I was artistic. I presumed he was being sarcastic.

"Here is what I want you to do", he said. "You see those brass plates out there on the desks of the senior officers? I will ask my secretary to bring those plates for you to polish", he said.

So, on the very first day of my work, in an office where clerical staff reported to me, I sat on the chair with a polishing cloth and a Brasso, to polish the brass name plates of the senior officers. The question here is, was the CFO trying to give me a lesson in humility? Or was he trying to give me a lesson in humiliation? I am more skewed towards the latter. The spectacle of me cleaning the brass plates, obviously affected the clerical staff, so that I could feel I lost their respect. Having two professional degrees did not seem to jive with the janitor's work of polishing brass plates. I took the task without complaints, without being vocal about it. Perhaps, the CFO wanted to break my ego, whatever that was that he noticed. I do not remember I have an ego. But being awarded the best student in Accounting in the Commonwealth certainly would have provided the platform for such. Since that fateful day, I could not manage my staff well. They could not get that polishing out of their minds.

I worked for a month before tendering my resignation. My resignation attracted the attention of the CEO, a British engineer. He was respectful and called me into his office for a discussion. He wanted to know why a person like me would want to resign. So I told him of what the CFO had asked me to do on my first day of work and his recurring sarcasms from day to day. The CEO openly acknowledged the fact that the CFO was a racist. There had been complaints of him from other Malay employees.  

It was not a lesson in humility after all. The CEO asked me to reconsider but I gently refused, citing all other reasons like difficulties in travelling to work and all. Such is the Malay way of turning down an offer. In a way, my decision to leave was pretty good. I made the right choice despite losing the potential income in the company. It was a small company. The CFO found it exhilarating when the company made the first million. That was how small it was. I got a better job as Group Budget Accountant in a listed company and a better income. Still, I could not forget that Foo, the racist CFO. I still harbour that bitterness, a bitterness that could only be quelled if I can only pee on his grave. Further down the road, I have met a few more of those like Foo. I took these things in stride, going beyond the skin to the individual. There will always be people like Foo. But then there will always be other people who are not racists. Like my old friend who died recently, the late CK Loh. CK Loh shared his experience with me one day. He lost a maintenance contract with a Chinese customer because the customer insisted that he remove the Malay employees from his IT company. Loh stood by his principles but lost the contract. That was a significant thing to do. 


My brother Sam told me one day. If we do not know a person, we are likely to judge the person according to our influenced perception of him as a person of another race. And he or she is likely to do the same to you. However, if we get to know each other and become friends, we are likely to forget the bigotry.

Whatever it was, my life is certainly better than Foo. For I do not have what his small mind has. 

Oh

I was attending the Old Edwardians dinner last night and a school junior asked, what I did for a living. I stuttered for a while, as I rummaged through my mind, to find a specific name for the work that I do. My work stretches a wide spectrum, from business transformation, to analysis, to regulatory advice and tax to feasibility studies. I was uncertain of which category of work to say, so I said "I am an Analyst". "Oh" he said, and that was that. I could have explained it more, but mildly resisted the attempt.  I did not regret not bringing my business card. There was no need to distribute business cards. I could have said Special Projects but I chose Analyst. It is an endearing term to me, for what describes me more than anything else. Analysis has always been my passion although I have reached a level where I can do everything excepting the sales part.

I could have brought my camera to the school reunion, but I did not. The "so what?" thingy was in my head. I was looking for aesthetics in images. I would not be able to find any in people consciously posing for the camera. Regardless, cameras are aplenty nowadays and so there were many flashes from many cameras.

  

PEMANDU

Permanently Enslaved Mentality And Nurtured Debilitating Unrest. PEMANDU. No, I am just squibbling. There is no meaning to it. Is that the right word? Maybe. MYR 36 million to the consultants. Justified, of course it is. Anybody can just about justify anything nowadays. Of course, I am thinking it from my own perspective. My career has provided me with working with consultants. At one time, there was the same consultant who advised that we should not invest outside of the Asia Pacific but to limit our investment strategies to only the countries within the region. Somehow, no one questioned the consultant on the time frame. Recommendations are provided based on current facts and future expectations based on current facts. Circumstances do change. What is a recommendation now, is simpLy pure idiocy in the next two years. As expected, there was no time frame provided and the gullible management accepted it. However, one sees every other operator investing every where else. By limiting ourselves to a small room, we have unwittingly enslaved our mentalities within a limited scope of business expansion. The consultant did not give a time frame nor was it ever asked to justify with research facts on how this should be so. All I have seen are powerpoint presentations. Anyone can put words on a powerpoint slide and speak with much confidence in the presentation. I have seen mistakes and lies and I have seen gullible people accepting lies and mistakes as gospel truths.

In the past we had never depended on consultants. We managed fine and with better performance. Having a consultant is like having to pay someone to nail the coffin shut with you inside. I am weary of consultants with the powerpoint slides and with nothing else to show.

Now, there is some unrest. "We need to have Mergers & Acquisitions!" Somebody said vociferously, from the unrest of seeing no additional profitability other than pathetically surviving on organic growth. Another person came and said the same thing and with the same fervour. "We need to have Mergers and Acquisitions!" And it felt like it was sang in the same fervour as witch hunting. True enough, somebody came to me for advice on M&A. So I said, "M&A is just the vehicle, an engine for the achievement of a strategic objective. So what is your strategic objective?". Of course, that query could not be answered. There was never any real strategy for the past four years and the person responsible for it is now in PEMANDU. It worries me, no doubt. If a football player from a small village is so bad at football, how is it that he can be appointed to play football for the country? It worries me. Mind you, I am not referring to Idris Jala.

Sigh

Sighing is the action of whispering a sadness or discontentment through the heaving of an out breath through the nose and mouth. That would be the closest I can describe a sigh. I sighed when I saw that the Stationmaster's Office at the Taiping Railway yard was no longer there, demolished to oblivion for the sake of modernisation. I sighed because there could have been alternative actions to accommodate the historical relic, the legacy of the train service in the early years. It brings home to mind that, what is left of Taiping is its Lake Garden. Certainly the shady trees lining the Station Road have all but gone, decapitated to mere buttresses. Certainly, the old buildings have been left to rot. The Stationmaster's Office could have been relocated. I hope that this had been done. At least, I have the photographs of the office taken over the years. Perhaps, I am just about the only person to have it.

It brings home to mind, the understanding of tourism. Are we on the same page as tourists? When I go to a certain place, I would like to know how that place came to be through its history and through the legacy left behind through historical artifacts. I don't come to a place to admire a hotel or to have fine dining. I come to a place to have a feel of what was before and what it has become. Certainly, the Taiping Town Council has a warped sense of comprehension. I am sure these people have gone to Universities and graduated and were capable of having some sense of reasoning, however peanut-sized the capability is. Are all these bureaucrats apathetic? I should think so. No, I would like to think so, because I cannot find a logical reason to explain the apparent absurdity. I sigh because I had hoped that  the right people should be in the right places of authority but it is not happening. I wish for a better government with the right people. I am still waiting, though. Nothing much has changed. I need to sigh again. Sigh.

Twits and twats

A friend of mine, was deeply engrossed in twittering. Every now and then, his Blackberry tinkled and in response, he would look, smile and thumb into the BB. He was not alone. My wife does that too. But for this friend of mine, I asked what the purpose was, this twittering. He replied, that it was about being known, being part of something, being knowledgable on happenings as they occur within his group of twitters. It was also the same for Facebook, he said. Basically, it gets down to letting known, in words, what you are thinking of, I thought. But thoughts as they are, are also volatile, and subject to change with changing circumstances. Thoughts put into words, become obsolete but remain, thus as words which could define what a person is supposed to be, although the circusmstances have changed. Real-time texting also requires real-time reassessment, when the need arises. Real time insults bring on real time reactions. But of course, twittering is about inconsequential matters or issues. Or is it? I don't know. I don't twitter but I facebook occasionally. I would rather be invisible to the world and pander to my own thoughts. Noise. If everyone has nothing else but radios, then we will hear the chatter of radios. It gets into the mind. Twittering is to me, also like radios. The twitter is engaged in noise, of responding to trivialities on a per minute basis. So what exactly is left for the mind to ponder if it keeps on twittering? Can business decisions be made from twittering? Can a fundamental decision be made from twittering? I don't know. I am not a twitter. But it is noise in some way. It intrudes into person to person engagements. It would be like to talking to someone in a room and every other minute, the person you are talking to, keeps opening the door. Though I don't twitter, I am also affected. My thought patterns in conversations encounter road bumps every now and then. Talking no longer becomes enjoyable with a twittering friend. So what is left for me to do would be to find non-twittering friends to enjoy conversations with. I am sure that, at the end of the day, I will get the significant news from the news channel anyway. I would prefer to be anonymous to the BB world. This world is already noisy as it is. It comes to mind, though. Should there be a gender classification of the twitter? If I can call a male twitter a twit, can I call a female twitter, a twat? So, now we should have twits and twats bringing more noise to the world. Before you jump, "twat" means travelling wave amplifier tube. It does describe the woman. Really.

On Travelling

Travel rejuvenates and excites. It is that small window which opens and one gets to climb through it and be outside for a while, even for a moment, to forget and discard current responsibilities. Travel incurs expenditure, but that is quickly forgotten, once out the window, once on new terrain. Travel brings fresh questions on life, of the variety of it, of Mankind, of so many souls and lives entirely different and differently lived. Even for a while, travel is a fresh breath of air, even if debt is incurred, even if the credit card companies prepare to print their bills to send in envelopes, with urgent reminders of repayment. There is so much to see, so much to feel and so much to capture of little memories, etched from encounters with the reality of new places and people. There is so much of presses of the camera trigger, to capture moments which linger only for seconds and not replicated again. To experience life is to travel, to move around, to board the plane, sit on narrow seats, eat tasteless food with plastic forks and knives and to linger at airport terminals, ride buses and taxis and walk for miles along streets. Life is short, finance is much shorter and I dream of travelling ever more. There is so much to see, so much to experience, so much to see of legacies left behind from the people of yore. I wish it will happen again. I wish I can interact again with citizens of new places, to appreciate their architecture, learn a smattering of new language, eat their food and see how and where they live. I sigh now, as I am back. The small window is closed for now. I am back with my cameras, my memory cards, some souvenirs, some fleeting memories, in this place I call home. I hope the window will open again. Sigh.

Run, run!

When my legs make the short and swift strides, when there is nothing else in front of me but red digital numbers which record my distance and my pulse, the only thing left to do is to think and see. I see people, running or walking or carrying heavy stuff, just to be healthy, so that they can live without the pain or the sorrow of dying from terminal illnesses. Even then, it is no certainty that we will not succumb to diseases. There is indeed no guarantee that by going to the gym anybody would live longer. In the absence of certainty as to our lifespan, we consider the probabilities of success in living through exercising. They are just probabilities. People have the talent to die in many different ways, in many different styles. It is just that, they don’t really know when they are going to go.

Putting the chances of dying aside, with no knowledge of the timing of our death, we exert so much effort. I am no different from the farmer, or from the carpenter or the lorry attendant. They need to carry and move things, because that is the nature of their work. I need to carry and run and move things because these are not the nature of my work but the nature of keeping to good health. While the janitor or the labourer or the farmer rest in the evening, I toil away after my work, just so I can survive the many years ahead without the problems of heart disease and others. I work after work. I am no different. Just like these people in the gym, they are no different from labourers. Unlike labourers, who get paid for physical work, everyone here in the gym pay to do physical work.

It seems that life on Earth is meant to be challenging for all of Mankind. Man is made to toil or he will surely die prematurely. I walk the treadmill now, I lift weights now, not because I want to look beautiful but because I have to. When I see people doing their exercise, it really gets to me that they have to. Life needs a lot of effort to be lived. Most of us need to work in order to put food on the table for ourselves and for our family. Most of us need to work after work, in order make ends meet. Most of us need to physically work after work just so we can be healthy to face another day of work. We toil at the machines, losing sweat, heaving breaths, grimacing with the pain of muscles fighting the metal. If not, we will surely clog our veins and permanently solidify our fat into becoming heavy leather belts around our waists. And then we die. Presumably. I am as guilty as these people. I am aware of what needs to be done. I have to work to live so that I can work another day.....

The Sigma 10-20mm

The next target of acquisition will definitely be the Sigma 10-20mm HSM lens, which I have tried at dSLR just now It has been rated above average, being awarded the TIPA award for best consumer lens. Putting that aside, it was the sharpness of the lens and the afford ability of it that touched the button of hope and wanting. Nikon lens would cost double the price and it will be a detrimental and visible dent on my wealth level if I purchase a Nikon lens instead of the Sigma. The right price must be below the emotional level of wanting. If not, the spirit is susceptible and vulnerable to regrets.

I know I can be exceptionally creative with the lens, especially on landscapes but also on making interesting viewpoints from mundane objects. DSLR put a price of RM 2, 400 but Yamiya has offered it at RM 2,095. Whatever the price, the cash is not immediately available, (though I could surreptitiously go to the bank and withdraw). No, I would rather have it with new money. That should be the game, I am telling myself that.

If the ambition is strong enough, sufficient enough, I must be creative to look for new funds, new sources. The new must be matched with the new. Only then, can I be happy in not utilising the current resources. The mind must be frantic enough, something has to happen to make this purchase happen. Soon. This Sigma lens must be mine.