I spent the day collecting stuff for a documentary. Man, I love old newsreels. They sound so... so... propaganda, but in a good way.
I was looking at videos of people who literally gave their lives so that this country can be a nation. The stabbing that they did was not for promotion or for hatred, but for honour.
And these people, they didn't have much. My father told me that in the old days, there were only four types of biscuits.
"Now, there are hundreds, maybe thousands of them," he mused, completely amazed at how his world has changed.
My father's old skool. He bought a PC in 1996, but only used it for Freecell and Solitaire. I used it for porn. As well as gauging the funny communities that started to sprout there. ALt.news shit and IRC. ICQ was half a decade away, for us Malaysians.
My father, he is constantly amazed with the hard core science I tell him.
"They're using crystals and light to create the next generation computers," I told him. And he'd just shake his head in amazement.
When I brought back my first Blackberry for the first time, and showed him that the thing can surf the net, he was worried that something so small would be extremely delicate.
However, my father never had the insecurity of being replaced. He was cocksure that no matter what, his values of hard work and stubbornness would carry him for another hundred years.
I must say, I agree. WHerever I go, whatever I do, I will apply the pride in my work - that arrogance - that has served me so well. If I can't take pride in my work anywhere, well, then it's time to go. I don't want to grow up to be one of those leeches who are of no contribution to anything.
I got maybe 10, 20 good working years left. I will not waste a single day on lazing about, doing nothing. Every day, I need to accomplish something. I need to write up a storm, and also take care of myself.
That's just how I fucking roll, motherfucker!