On being labelled 'Gay'... (gigantic sweat drop appears ala anime style)

Statement: I have been and am constantly being labelled gay.
Fiction: I could be gay.
Fact: I am in fact straight. And various visits to certain sites have confirmed this fact. Multiples times.
Conclusion: I have no friggin idea why I am constantly being viewed as a homosexual.

An otherwise mundane dinner arrangement with some friends on a saturday night sparked an interesting conversation about my sexuality. Especially with the mamak waiter being 'extra' nice to our table. Followed by what my friends noticed, him constantly eyeing me from behind. I am in case you people don't know, male. And I shall accentuate the FACT that I'm straight.

This clearly disturbs me.

My friends, (if you can still call them that after what happened that saturday) of course gave me no reprise by following up with comments on how 'gay' I look. So I wondered to myself. How does one define a 'gay' look?

I myself have friends who are more inclined towards members of the same sex, and they are good friends. I do not discriminate them and I respect them for who they are. And to me, they seem like any other person.

Some have said it's the haircut. What's wrong with short spiky hair?!?!? Some said it's the dressing. Well, many people wear the same types of clothes I do, why not call THEM gay? Some say it's the look. Like wtf??? I was born looking 'gay'?!?!?

Then, there are those whom I've met online (you probably know who you are) who mistake me for a girl if I did not introduce my gender. And there are those who know my gender and mistake my sexual orientation.

It must be the way I write. Or something... (more anime sweat drops)

Clue me...


P.S. On a side note, this is a darn good Animated Music Video. With a nice song to boot! Go check it out coz I think the dude deserves the credit where it's due.

The Epitome of Failure...

I am, the Epitome of Failure. Or at least that's what I like to believe. I am however as much I want to deny it, much less of a failure than I put myself out to be. Tho in some ways, I doubt my own definitions.

The past few months have been a trying time for me as I battled a dead-end job in a seemingly dead-end industry in a dead-end country where people are more concerned about their own selfish ends instead of giving up their seats for the pregnant (see post below).

The latest thing to hit me is my depressive need to hurl myself further down the destructive path. It just doesn't make sense!

I have a home. No doubt I still live alone, but I have a roof over my head. Rent free! I have a new car. I'm paying for it, but it's new and it's nice! And it's mine! I have a job. It sucks balls, and it pays less than peanuts, but it's still a job. And I still get paid! I have friends. Not your dua-kupang fair-skinned (and fair-weathered) variety, but those who stick around to listen to you bitch about how sad your life is and how you are an epitome of failure night after night when they should be home shagging their wives/girlfriends/pets (hey, it's a politically correct society we live in).

I have a supportive family who calls me up when I'm out with my friends having a wild time to ask if I had dinner and if I am taking my vitamins. I love my family. Heck, I even have a friend who randomly messages me in the morning to wish me a good day! How many people have a friend like that?!?!?

I need to seriously redefine my life. I am definitely NOT the epitome of failure...

Random Good Deeds

It was rush hour in the KLCC LRT station, and Malaysians, lacking in socially acceptable behaviour as always, were pushing and jostling each other in a bid to get into a crowded carriage which will remain crowded because the unthinking (or merely selfish) Malaysians would stand unbudgingly at the doors.

Such is the morally-deprived hell I go through on an almost daily basis in what we dare call one of the fastest developing cities in the world. Yeah right.

Anyway yesterday was an intersting day worth mentioning, otherwise I wouldn't have even blogged about it. It started out pretty much the same, but this time me and a colleague managed to find an empty standing spot somewhere in the middle of the carriage because everyone else was standing by the doors.

It was then that my colleague noticed a pregnant woman standing, and I repeat, STANDING (in bold letters no doubt to reiterate my raging point) by the side. My good colleague immediately pointed her out to me. We were both shocked and appalled by the seemingly uncaringness of our caring society.

Nonetheless I urged my colleague to bring to attention, the predicament of the pregnant lady to anyone of the young able-bodied youths SEATED comfortably in the seats without a care in the world. So she turned to the nearest one and asked her to vacate her seat for the pregnant lady, and said passenger actually oblidged.

The pregnant lady however politely declined the seat as her stop was next and fast approaching. Soon we saw the last of her and the oblidging passenger as well. But that was probably because I failed to notice what happened to her.

It was however an interesting attempt at uncommon Malaysian courtesy which had to be reminded to courteous Malaysians who are only so willing to oblidge should they be reminded often enough to be courteous.

And tomorrow, I get to experience it all over again. Oh joy!

The Dangers of Living Alone

A little over a week ago, I came down with a seemingly mild case of sorethroat, no doubt resulting from the late nights spent watching the world cup quarter finals and the shouting that accompanies such endeavours.

So what appeared to be an ordinary occurance didn't get much attention until Tuesday when it got worse. During lunch, I began to feel a temperature rising. Knowing full well that a fever was approaching I took the rest of the day off. Walking towards the LRT station, I started feeling floaty and light-headed. By the time I got off the train, my head was heavy.

A hour later, my head was throbbing as I waited for the doctor. 15 minutes later I was on my bed, knowing full well that I needed to take my medication, but too stoned to do anything about it.

I woke up around 8 at night with a really bad headache. I got up and tried to go out to get some porridge but couldn't even make it to the stairs before needing to lie down. A feeling of dread descended upon me as I lay there on my bed. What if I passed out? Nobody would find me until a few days later. By that time, I could be, in all possibility, dead.

So I started calling friends who I know would be or should be in the neighbourhood. None of them were available or happened to be elsewhere. Finally, I got through to a friend who bought over some porridge. Even then, I could hardly sit up to eat. I struggled through some of it before deciding to call it quits and took my medication.

Needless to say, it would be foolish to attempt to ride out the fever alone in the house. So I managed to get my aunt to pick me up so that I could spend the night at her place. There, I finally got to sleep in peace knowing that even if I do not make it through the night, I would be discovered before my body had time to rot into the putrid state which all bodies rot into.

My last thoughts before I passed out were vague images of pain and a strong sense of loneliness. It sucks living alone sometimes...

Some people should just curl up and die! Twice!

There are times in one's life when one realises that there are things that will never change. And some things are inevitable as well. Some systems never change. Some cultures never change. People change. But not always for the better.

Sometimes there are things that piss you off beyond your own comprehension. Things that you are asked to do that can be avoided, or trivial things that take up way too much time and yield only the most minute of results. Sometimes you are asked to do things purely to cover the lack of others.

Anger always accompanies these times. But no amount of anger seethed, breathed, tasted, can change the way some things chose to manifest. So why be angry? Why bother with these trivial emotions when they do more harm than good? Because in the end, some people will eventually get their way, and it is your time that is wasted in anger. Time which can be used to accomplish the given futile task.

At times, the best way to counter these rebellious feelings of rage is to write them down. Wherever possible, whenever possible. For anger can only bring destruction to oneself and to those around you. As for me, I've done my part.

Anger managed...

Canned Coffee

My coffee got canned.

It was lunchtime, the best time of any working day except Friday. Fridays are just perpetually good for no particular reasons other than it being the last day of the working week. Saturdays do NOT count as working days, and any company who makes their workers work on a Saturday should be removed from the face of this earth. Except banks and bill payment centers, goverment offices... yada yada. Okay, scrap that thought, it's my coffee that gets the limelight today.

And so it was that the art department had gone for lunch, and I left my half-full ('half-full', because 'half-empty' sounds negative, and I'm not a negative person, now am I?) coffee mug on my desk and proceeded to join them. I make it a habit to never finish a mug of coffee in one sitting, as too much caffein is bad for your health. Plus, only really strong coffee works for me and having too much of that is just asking for a caffein overdose.

So there on my desk sat my half-drunk coffee mug filled with Ipoh White Coffee. An hour later, it was gone.

It was a classic case of 'Who moved my Coffee?'.

Except I knew immediately who it was. It was (drumroll) the cleaning lady.

*Pauses dramatically to take a deep breath and mutter some words of prayer in the hope of controlling my temper and not acting on a whim to decapitate someone who obviously doesn't know how much coffee means to some people.

This was not the first time it had happened. But then again, this was a different cleaning lady. What kind of person would actually take a cup half-filled with aromatic, creamy ipoh white coffee and junk it just like that without a conscience?

It was then that I looked around a realised that quite a few of my colleagues have a bad habit of not finishing their drinks. Most would drink a sip or two while it's hot, and pour it all down the drain the minute it gets cold. What then is the purpose of a microwave?

All that doesn't matter now, because at the end of it all, my beautiful cup of coffee is gone and I will not make another one no matter how sleepy I get after a heavy lunch, coz I have my principles too, and my principles state that I will maintain my vigil of one mug of Ipoh White Coffee a day no matter what! Plus, the stuff is rather pricey.

So with teeth bared, I fought sleepiness, and obviously failed... much to the disdain and amusement of my art director and possible other colleagues who are by now used to my coffee withdrawal symptoms. Of course, one would have noted by now that my half-filled mug of coffee was deliberately left that way so that I would always have a dose of instantaneous boost when I need it during a nodding session.

Nowadays, I keep my mug covered, with a serviette, in case the cleaning lady has some ideas of her own, and pray that she doesn't sentence my drinks to a life of solitude in the 'To Wash' bucket. Maybe I should even consider writing a note.

Or leave flowers to mourn the passing of many a good cup of coffee.