Two years. Two long fucking years.
I didn't seal away Lucifer. I sealed myself.
In the pursuit of doing a website that could change everything. On a global scale. The solution for journalism's decay. The idealist anarchic invention and ultimate manifestation of democracy.
The REAL freedom of the Press, handing over control of the media to the public.
Shattered dreams, all of it.
I have failed. Failed to convince people of the dream. Failed to articulate it in a sellable manner. Failed. Failed. Failed.
And with my failure, comes freedom.
It is no longer my fight. Eventually, maybe 10, maybe 50 years from now, whatever I foresee will come to pass. But I will not be the instigator. It is not my responsibility anymore.
Now, let's get down to business.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Superhuman Samurai Spirits
I am Destruction!
The Devourer of Worlds.
And I will create my kingdom with my own two hands, and wear my crown upon a troubled brow.
Fuck all you haters. Fuck all you snivelling little weasels with huge inferiority complexes.
I am the greatest. So fuck you all.
The Devourer of Worlds.
And I will create my kingdom with my own two hands, and wear my crown upon a troubled brow.
Fuck all you haters. Fuck all you snivelling little weasels with huge inferiority complexes.
I am the greatest. So fuck you all.
Freedom and Honor
My ancestors did not fight tooth and nail so that one day, their kin, their blood, would run in fear on their own land.
I do not see myself as belonging to anything, but it would be a great disservice to those who came before me, if I were to live a life of lies.
I cannot keep my head down, because my head is quite large. If I keep it down, it will snap my neck and I will die an Elephant Man's death.
I enjoy the freedom that so many have died for. They fought honorably, without the need to sneak and slither like reptiles.
We are warm-blooded, free men. What use is guile? That is going against my very nature. I live true, and I live free. Let God sort out the rest.
I believe that any bond is imaginary. It is we, ourselves, who keep us true to our own words.
I apologise for nothing. I regret nothing. I have always been what I have always been.
It doesn't matter if the Book of Five Rings was a lie. The idea and the thought behind it is something to aspire to.
I will kill myself before I sink to being a snivelling little coward.
Full frontal nudity! Yeah!
I do not see myself as belonging to anything, but it would be a great disservice to those who came before me, if I were to live a life of lies.
I cannot keep my head down, because my head is quite large. If I keep it down, it will snap my neck and I will die an Elephant Man's death.
I enjoy the freedom that so many have died for. They fought honorably, without the need to sneak and slither like reptiles.
We are warm-blooded, free men. What use is guile? That is going against my very nature. I live true, and I live free. Let God sort out the rest.
I believe that any bond is imaginary. It is we, ourselves, who keep us true to our own words.
I apologise for nothing. I regret nothing. I have always been what I have always been.
It doesn't matter if the Book of Five Rings was a lie. The idea and the thought behind it is something to aspire to.
I will kill myself before I sink to being a snivelling little coward.
Full frontal nudity! Yeah!
Battle at Hell's Gate
I decided to yell at someone over the phone today, and then send a strongly-worded letter to the company which caused some commotion.
You see, I am a member of a fitness club. A few weeks ago, I was told to come and settle some outstanding payment. There is an offer that they will waive the fees if I decide to sign another 12-month contract with the club.
Since I've been meaning to continue the membership anyway, since I will have more free time soon, I acquiesced to that, even though I did contact them to freeze my membership last year, with no positive response.
In any event, I will be busy till February, so I wanted to start in March.
So anyway, after paying, I was told I cannot freeze my account in February. Since I will be more or less busy in March, I decided to ask that my account be frozen in March.
They agreed, everyone was happy and I thought that was that.
Lo and behold. Today, someone called me up and said that my account will not be frozen and that I will have to pay for March as well.
I was like, "What? I thought this thing was settled."
"No! You have to pay!"
"Fuck you!"
"This is madness!"
"Madness? This! Is! Bangsar!"
"You still have to pay!"
"I will write a letter of complaint."
"You can write whatever."
Taking my spear and my Spartan shield, I wrote an email to their country manager.
A strongly-worded one. Stronger than ones the UN writes to stop genocide. The UN should hire me to write those letters.
Immediately, I get a response, from two different people, over the phone. And I got it done.
All I wanted was to freeze my account in March. That was all. I tried reason. It didn't work.
You know, when doing customer service, please be advised that:
1. The customer does not like being told that he or she cannot do what common sense dictates as possible.
2. WHen you tell the customer that everything is handled, everything should have been handled. Being sneaky about things is not acceptable.
The whole problem with this is the fact that they were being sneaky about it. They hid from me the fact that my account was not frozen. I didn't sign up for this shit. When I was told, "Everything is in order." I expect everything to be in order. I can take paying for February, but DO NOT lie to me. I do not have a vagina.
The second was to challenge me on my honesty. I follow up with what I say. I may have a big mouth, but I will do whatever I can to back myself up. I'm not a fucking liar. I'm not sneaky. I say what I do and do what I say.
If I say I am going to write a letter, I will write a letter. If I say I will do handstands, I will do handstands. Do not taunt me. You do not know what the fuck I will do.
And I am just one customer. There are bigger bitches out there, baying for blood. I do not want blood. I just want my account frozen in March. Was that so difficult?
You see, I am a member of a fitness club. A few weeks ago, I was told to come and settle some outstanding payment. There is an offer that they will waive the fees if I decide to sign another 12-month contract with the club.
Since I've been meaning to continue the membership anyway, since I will have more free time soon, I acquiesced to that, even though I did contact them to freeze my membership last year, with no positive response.
In any event, I will be busy till February, so I wanted to start in March.
So anyway, after paying, I was told I cannot freeze my account in February. Since I will be more or less busy in March, I decided to ask that my account be frozen in March.
They agreed, everyone was happy and I thought that was that.
Lo and behold. Today, someone called me up and said that my account will not be frozen and that I will have to pay for March as well.
I was like, "What? I thought this thing was settled."
"No! You have to pay!"
"Fuck you!"
"This is madness!"
"Madness? This! Is! Bangsar!"
"You still have to pay!"
"I will write a letter of complaint."
"You can write whatever."
Taking my spear and my Spartan shield, I wrote an email to their country manager.
A strongly-worded one. Stronger than ones the UN writes to stop genocide. The UN should hire me to write those letters.
Immediately, I get a response, from two different people, over the phone. And I got it done.
All I wanted was to freeze my account in March. That was all. I tried reason. It didn't work.
You know, when doing customer service, please be advised that:
1. The customer does not like being told that he or she cannot do what common sense dictates as possible.
2. WHen you tell the customer that everything is handled, everything should have been handled. Being sneaky about things is not acceptable.
The whole problem with this is the fact that they were being sneaky about it. They hid from me the fact that my account was not frozen. I didn't sign up for this shit. When I was told, "Everything is in order." I expect everything to be in order. I can take paying for February, but DO NOT lie to me. I do not have a vagina.
The second was to challenge me on my honesty. I follow up with what I say. I may have a big mouth, but I will do whatever I can to back myself up. I'm not a fucking liar. I'm not sneaky. I say what I do and do what I say.
If I say I am going to write a letter, I will write a letter. If I say I will do handstands, I will do handstands. Do not taunt me. You do not know what the fuck I will do.
And I am just one customer. There are bigger bitches out there, baying for blood. I do not want blood. I just want my account frozen in March. Was that so difficult?
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Causus Belli
Imma jack off in front of your mama and cum all over her face, motherfucker! And she's gonna like it. Cause she a slut-ho-whore-priestess.
Ya think ya can jump me? Nigga please. I jump your mother in her little ho outfit faster than you can yell "Supplies!"
Fucking ass-fucked motherfuckers. In case you forgot, I'm still hot, so knock that dick out your mouth and fucking kiss my ass.
Owhhh yeah! Kiss my ass, motherfucker! You goin down on me, and ain't nothin' anyone can do to stop you sucking. My dick.
Ya think ya can jump me? Nigga please. I jump your mother in her little ho outfit faster than you can yell "Supplies!"
Fucking ass-fucked motherfuckers. In case you forgot, I'm still hot, so knock that dick out your mouth and fucking kiss my ass.
Owhhh yeah! Kiss my ass, motherfucker! You goin down on me, and ain't nothin' anyone can do to stop you sucking. My dick.
Carutan Pembunuh Dewa
Burit mak kau!
Bapak ko suka isap kelentit lembu! Kelentit lembu yang ada taik lembu hijau lagi!
Mak kau suka rogol ubi keledek! UBii keledek! Dia main bijik kelentit dia pakai batang keladi! Dia petik bijik kelentit dia macam gitar pakai batang keladi!
Oi! Kalau setakat itu jelah akal kau, untuk menipu orang, baik ko ambik basikal lama kepala atuk ko, gilap lawa-lawa, pastu sumbat masuk jubur taik nenek ko!
Ko suka mengumpat ye? Ko tau? Jiran sebelah rumah ko dah 15 tahun asyik cerita kat orang pasal mak kau melukah tunjuk bijik kelentit kat abang posmen, ko tau? Dasar mak ko sundal.
Bapak ko tu, suka isap konek kucing, ko tau? Ko ingat tak, raut wajah kucing ko yang nampak kecewa, macam kena tibai? Tu bapak ko rogol dia la tu. Ko apahal?
Bapak ko suka isap kelentit lembu! Kelentit lembu yang ada taik lembu hijau lagi!
Mak kau suka rogol ubi keledek! UBii keledek! Dia main bijik kelentit dia pakai batang keladi! Dia petik bijik kelentit dia macam gitar pakai batang keladi!
Oi! Kalau setakat itu jelah akal kau, untuk menipu orang, baik ko ambik basikal lama kepala atuk ko, gilap lawa-lawa, pastu sumbat masuk jubur taik nenek ko!
Ko suka mengumpat ye? Ko tau? Jiran sebelah rumah ko dah 15 tahun asyik cerita kat orang pasal mak kau melukah tunjuk bijik kelentit kat abang posmen, ko tau? Dasar mak ko sundal.
Bapak ko tu, suka isap konek kucing, ko tau? Ko ingat tak, raut wajah kucing ko yang nampak kecewa, macam kena tibai? Tu bapak ko rogol dia la tu. Ko apahal?
Southern Comfort
Last year, around seven months ago, I decided to eventually dramatically alter my current working arrangements and find something that would satiate my wanderlust.
As always, any traumatic decision such as this is accompanied with me having a walkabout in the city. I did it in 2006, and I did it again in 2010.
I found an Australian woman drinking alone in Midvalley Gardens. Had a brief chat, but she made me feel comfortable for a while.
Now, having started the plunge, I found Junior Masterchef Australia, a TV show which somewhat restores some faith in humanity. That out there, somewhere, there is something left in this wretched human existence worth saving, worth protecting.
And you know what? That's all I need.
As always, any traumatic decision such as this is accompanied with me having a walkabout in the city. I did it in 2006, and I did it again in 2010.
I found an Australian woman drinking alone in Midvalley Gardens. Had a brief chat, but she made me feel comfortable for a while.
Now, having started the plunge, I found Junior Masterchef Australia, a TV show which somewhat restores some faith in humanity. That out there, somewhere, there is something left in this wretched human existence worth saving, worth protecting.
And you know what? That's all I need.
Take a Look Around
I am currently tying up a pre-shoot script for a documentary on a Malaysian hero.
He gave everything to this country, to now see it dominated somewhat by people who would stoke the fires of racism and fear.
I believe that ALL - bar none - political parties succumb to racism in order to win votes.
As who was it, Jon Stewart?, said, "The person who yells 'let's have a rational discussion about this!'" will not be listened to.
The rational voice is unpopular. Why? Because politics, is professional wrestling.
If the Rock said, "Come on, Triple H, let's have a solid, rational, calm dialogue about our differences," he would not be the most electrifying man in sports entertainment. He would say, "Triple H-ahhhhh! Why don't-ahhhhhh! You take that sledge hammer, shine it up real nice, tuen that sumbitch sideways and stick it up your candy ass!"
The Truth is, people want racism. People want whatever it is you're complaining about. YOU want whatever it is you're complaining about. Cause if you don't want it, you'd stop and chuck it away. You would leave situations you do not like, thrown away stuff you do not need, and cut off motherfuckers, bastards and assholes from your life.
But you wanted it that way, and that's why it's there.
And it's not wrong. It's just your choice. Dumbass.
He gave everything to this country, to now see it dominated somewhat by people who would stoke the fires of racism and fear.
I believe that ALL - bar none - political parties succumb to racism in order to win votes.
As who was it, Jon Stewart?, said, "The person who yells 'let's have a rational discussion about this!'" will not be listened to.
The rational voice is unpopular. Why? Because politics, is professional wrestling.
If the Rock said, "Come on, Triple H, let's have a solid, rational, calm dialogue about our differences," he would not be the most electrifying man in sports entertainment. He would say, "Triple H-ahhhhh! Why don't-ahhhhhh! You take that sledge hammer, shine it up real nice, tuen that sumbitch sideways and stick it up your candy ass!"
The Truth is, people want racism. People want whatever it is you're complaining about. YOU want whatever it is you're complaining about. Cause if you don't want it, you'd stop and chuck it away. You would leave situations you do not like, thrown away stuff you do not need, and cut off motherfuckers, bastards and assholes from your life.
But you wanted it that way, and that's why it's there.
And it's not wrong. It's just your choice. Dumbass.
Village People: Gods of the Arena
So I came back to KL, searching for the ones who promised help in securing the funds for the village housing project for the poor.
I found them on their way to Europe. Of course, I can wait for them, but I would like to try and open other doors.
In the next few days, I will contact friends and family members for any contacts for the things I need to get this project off the ground.
And I thought, "Hey, maybe I could push this online."
So here's the plan.
I have a deserving poor family in need of a house. The material and workforce will need a total of RM25,600. The furniture and other odd things will need another RM4,400 or more, making it a RM30,000 project.
WHat I need first are:
1. A charity foundation that is tax-deductible. Meaning, if anyone or any company contributes any amount of money, they can claim it as a reduction on their taxes.
I would need this organisation to house the project under, as well as their letter of support for it, in order for me to make my rounds.
2. Volunteers, First Tier
I would need people who would be able to spend their time and effort in securing funds and help me manage the project. I can start it off, but I can hardly do it alone.
I have some ideas on where to get these, and by end of February, some of my friends will be back from Europe, but I would like to see if anyone out there wants to contribute anything.
Though I do not limit any religion or religious parties from joining me, I must say that this project is strictly non-denominational. As for political parties, well, money would be nice, but I do not want to turn this into a circus, so no heavy presence of any parties whatsoever. Corporate representation, though, is most welcome.
Contact me at amirhafizi@gmail.com.
I found them on their way to Europe. Of course, I can wait for them, but I would like to try and open other doors.
In the next few days, I will contact friends and family members for any contacts for the things I need to get this project off the ground.
And I thought, "Hey, maybe I could push this online."
So here's the plan.
I have a deserving poor family in need of a house. The material and workforce will need a total of RM25,600. The furniture and other odd things will need another RM4,400 or more, making it a RM30,000 project.
WHat I need first are:
1. A charity foundation that is tax-deductible. Meaning, if anyone or any company contributes any amount of money, they can claim it as a reduction on their taxes.
I would need this organisation to house the project under, as well as their letter of support for it, in order for me to make my rounds.
2. Volunteers, First Tier
I would need people who would be able to spend their time and effort in securing funds and help me manage the project. I can start it off, but I can hardly do it alone.
I have some ideas on where to get these, and by end of February, some of my friends will be back from Europe, but I would like to see if anyone out there wants to contribute anything.
Though I do not limit any religion or religious parties from joining me, I must say that this project is strictly non-denominational. As for political parties, well, money would be nice, but I do not want to turn this into a circus, so no heavy presence of any parties whatsoever. Corporate representation, though, is most welcome.
Contact me at amirhafizi@gmail.com.
Blood and Sand
You know, I don't know why, but a lot of people I meet seem to think I grew up in KL. Or in a city. Maybe when I was young, after school, I go and play some video games on my Micro Genius or some shit. I never had a fucking Micro Genius or an Atari.
That I would sneak a cigarette or two behind the school shed or fuck a girl in the graveyard. That my views as a child was one of privilege and wealth. And fucking.
Well, I am thankful that I was not raised in the inner cities, that I had enough to eat - and sometimes more - that my parents did not rape me or were junkies who made me blind cause my mother was shooting up while she was pregnant with me. Or that I was born with cerebral palsy, or stupid.
I had a pretty normal childhood. I was more interested in books than in people, which saved me from a lot of stupid things. One classmate got pregnant when she was 13 or thereabouts. Some were killed in motorcycle accidents. At 17. A childhood friend died of AIDS in recent years.
My toys were primarily hand-me-downs. Broken either by my older siblings or by my own hand.
My allowance was 50 cents a week, in primary school. That meant I had the luxury to decide on either buying an extra glass of water or two slices of keropok every recess.
I saw a total of two movies in my first 15 years of life.
There were lots of books, however, and lots of TV.
I come from Kuantan - a town by the beach - but all I ever saw of the beach, all I remember of Teluk Chempedak from my childhood is having a pre-packed meal in my father's unair-conditioned Opel Kadett, while the beach was around 200 metres away. That, and a kindergarten trip to Pantai Batu Hitam where I was given the neck of a chicken to gnaw on, and had salt water in my nostrils, when I departed the shore, which I did not like.
Chicken necks. I thought my father loved chicken necks. That's why he kept buying them, I thought. Then, later in life, it dawned on me that the reason he kept buying them was because it was cheap.
I took him shopping a few years back, when he was still healthy, and bought chicken breasts, wings and drumsticks. He thought it was a waste of good chicken.
If we wanted to eat anything in abundance, we had to grow them, or rear them. My father had a green thumb and his cucumbers and eggplants - brinjals to some of you - were the size of horses' cocks. Morning glory with leaves as big as yams'.
I spent backbreaking afternoons watering corn. 350ml in each hole. And then selling them, RM2.50 per 7 ears.
And yet I had it easier than my siblings, some of whom had to herd cows or sell fruits to augment the family income. They worked like slaves.
And yet, my family was better off than most, in my village.
A lot more, had a lot less. My father was a teacher, so his income was considered 'middle class'. Do you know how much they pay teachers? Not much.
The Government used to classify anyone living in rural areas with a household income of less than RM500 a month (for four) as poor. In the cities or towns, it is RM1500 or thereabouts. My neighbour makes RM400 a month, IF they pay him, to support eight people.
I read somewhere that in the '70s or maybe earlier, Prof Diraja Ungku Aziz did a research that states the reason for the rural kids not doing well in school is because they do not have enough food.
If you're hungry, you can't study. Better off killing birds for that night's supper than hitting the books - a luxury I had.
Judging by this, I am very lucky. By a simple twist of fate, I could have been born in the other families, struggling to survive. STruggling even more. There would be no chicken necks. Chicken shit, maybe.
And people in the Government wonder why some people are against them.
Undoubtedly, there are a lot of help available. There are numerous funds, largely unclaimed. If you want to start a tailoring business or want to start a kerepek enterprise, the Government requires only that you go to classes, and they will provide you with the machinery. So with the skills and the machines, the only other ingredient is capital, which you can apply for. But what is lacking is drive, and proper management.
Malays, are a self-sabotaging race. On the individual level, as well as on the community level. Actually, I believe that Malaysians in general are self-sabotaging. However, since most of the other races are generally in better economic brackets, they will not starve.
That being said, I believe that any effort to alleviate poverty should reach across the board and not be race-based at all. In an ideal world, we should not be counting the pigmentation on our skins. But yeah. Fuck you.
ANyway, if someone tries to get him or herself up above their situation, usually they get laughed at, or schemes and plots would hatch. I understand that. It is only animal nature that people feel insecure and try to drag others down to their perceived level or lower. But wait. ANimals do not do that.
These poor people cannot fend for themselves. They may be seen by some as failures, but their existence is our failure as a society. I also perceive them as a threat.
Desperate people will do desperate things. If one day, the cities will not rise, because they are fattened up and contented with their capitalist dreams, the rural folk - the poor ones, may grab their hoes (of the non-prostitute kind) and sickles and machetes and do a Hutu Vs Tutsi number on the rich.
Some may think to control them, as a political weapon, but you cannot fool all the people, all the time. The time shall come when Caesar will rise and turn this into a Planet of the Apes.
I don't want the next few generations celebrating a Malaysian version of Bastille Day. Or that a modern-day Guy Fawkes may actually succeed.
Poverty is a cycle. It's like abuse. Poverty-stricken people breed even more poverty-stricken people. There are better literature and research on all this. I don't need to reinvent the wheel.
Anyway, I will be out of a job soon. Aside from taking care of myself and my own ass, I also want to help. My contributions will be small. But I will not go down without a fight. And this is a fight that matters. It is not whimsical, farcical or petty.
I spent my 20s believing that I will be part of some things that could change society. I understand now, in my 30s, that I will have to start it myself.
I have been given the tools and the resources to kickstart some things. I do not know what will happen and how things will turn out. It could be bad, but I have taken more insane risks before, as I am doing right now with my own life.
Bring it on.
That I would sneak a cigarette or two behind the school shed or fuck a girl in the graveyard. That my views as a child was one of privilege and wealth. And fucking.
Well, I am thankful that I was not raised in the inner cities, that I had enough to eat - and sometimes more - that my parents did not rape me or were junkies who made me blind cause my mother was shooting up while she was pregnant with me. Or that I was born with cerebral palsy, or stupid.
I had a pretty normal childhood. I was more interested in books than in people, which saved me from a lot of stupid things. One classmate got pregnant when she was 13 or thereabouts. Some were killed in motorcycle accidents. At 17. A childhood friend died of AIDS in recent years.
My toys were primarily hand-me-downs. Broken either by my older siblings or by my own hand.
My allowance was 50 cents a week, in primary school. That meant I had the luxury to decide on either buying an extra glass of water or two slices of keropok every recess.
I saw a total of two movies in my first 15 years of life.
There were lots of books, however, and lots of TV.
I come from Kuantan - a town by the beach - but all I ever saw of the beach, all I remember of Teluk Chempedak from my childhood is having a pre-packed meal in my father's unair-conditioned Opel Kadett, while the beach was around 200 metres away. That, and a kindergarten trip to Pantai Batu Hitam where I was given the neck of a chicken to gnaw on, and had salt water in my nostrils, when I departed the shore, which I did not like.
Chicken necks. I thought my father loved chicken necks. That's why he kept buying them, I thought. Then, later in life, it dawned on me that the reason he kept buying them was because it was cheap.
I took him shopping a few years back, when he was still healthy, and bought chicken breasts, wings and drumsticks. He thought it was a waste of good chicken.
If we wanted to eat anything in abundance, we had to grow them, or rear them. My father had a green thumb and his cucumbers and eggplants - brinjals to some of you - were the size of horses' cocks. Morning glory with leaves as big as yams'.
I spent backbreaking afternoons watering corn. 350ml in each hole. And then selling them, RM2.50 per 7 ears.
And yet I had it easier than my siblings, some of whom had to herd cows or sell fruits to augment the family income. They worked like slaves.
And yet, my family was better off than most, in my village.
A lot more, had a lot less. My father was a teacher, so his income was considered 'middle class'. Do you know how much they pay teachers? Not much.
The Government used to classify anyone living in rural areas with a household income of less than RM500 a month (for four) as poor. In the cities or towns, it is RM1500 or thereabouts. My neighbour makes RM400 a month, IF they pay him, to support eight people.
I read somewhere that in the '70s or maybe earlier, Prof Diraja Ungku Aziz did a research that states the reason for the rural kids not doing well in school is because they do not have enough food.
If you're hungry, you can't study. Better off killing birds for that night's supper than hitting the books - a luxury I had.
Judging by this, I am very lucky. By a simple twist of fate, I could have been born in the other families, struggling to survive. STruggling even more. There would be no chicken necks. Chicken shit, maybe.
And people in the Government wonder why some people are against them.
Undoubtedly, there are a lot of help available. There are numerous funds, largely unclaimed. If you want to start a tailoring business or want to start a kerepek enterprise, the Government requires only that you go to classes, and they will provide you with the machinery. So with the skills and the machines, the only other ingredient is capital, which you can apply for. But what is lacking is drive, and proper management.
Malays, are a self-sabotaging race. On the individual level, as well as on the community level. Actually, I believe that Malaysians in general are self-sabotaging. However, since most of the other races are generally in better economic brackets, they will not starve.
That being said, I believe that any effort to alleviate poverty should reach across the board and not be race-based at all. In an ideal world, we should not be counting the pigmentation on our skins. But yeah. Fuck you.
ANyway, if someone tries to get him or herself up above their situation, usually they get laughed at, or schemes and plots would hatch. I understand that. It is only animal nature that people feel insecure and try to drag others down to their perceived level or lower. But wait. ANimals do not do that.
These poor people cannot fend for themselves. They may be seen by some as failures, but their existence is our failure as a society. I also perceive them as a threat.
Desperate people will do desperate things. If one day, the cities will not rise, because they are fattened up and contented with their capitalist dreams, the rural folk - the poor ones, may grab their hoes (of the non-prostitute kind) and sickles and machetes and do a Hutu Vs Tutsi number on the rich.
Some may think to control them, as a political weapon, but you cannot fool all the people, all the time. The time shall come when Caesar will rise and turn this into a Planet of the Apes.
I don't want the next few generations celebrating a Malaysian version of Bastille Day. Or that a modern-day Guy Fawkes may actually succeed.
Poverty is a cycle. It's like abuse. Poverty-stricken people breed even more poverty-stricken people. There are better literature and research on all this. I don't need to reinvent the wheel.
Anyway, I will be out of a job soon. Aside from taking care of myself and my own ass, I also want to help. My contributions will be small. But I will not go down without a fight. And this is a fight that matters. It is not whimsical, farcical or petty.
I spent my 20s believing that I will be part of some things that could change society. I understand now, in my 30s, that I will have to start it myself.
I have been given the tools and the resources to kickstart some things. I do not know what will happen and how things will turn out. It could be bad, but I have taken more insane risks before, as I am doing right now with my own life.
Bring it on.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Calling the Company
I'm weak and stuck at home with a slight temperature. Slipping in and out of my feverish dreams, I began to think that I would make a good CIA agent.
So here's my offer.
Hey, CIA! Give me US$400 million and I will give you any and all information you would need. And also information you would not need.
C'mon, man. I read wikipedia! C'mon! I'll suck yo dick! I'll suck yo dick! (for US$400 million. Batteries sold separately).
So here's my offer.
Hey, CIA! Give me US$400 million and I will give you any and all information you would need. And also information you would not need.
C'mon, man. I read wikipedia! C'mon! I'll suck yo dick! I'll suck yo dick! (for US$400 million. Batteries sold separately).
To Cogitate and To Solve
I was telling my family in Kuantan that I meditate, and even though I expected a reaction from them telling me that I was being pretentious, I was a bit surprised that they began telling fairy tales about people who meditate losing their minds.
"You'll go crazy," they said.
Well, there has been cases where people who talk about religion being carted off to death camps, ehem, I mean, 'rehabilitation centers', right here in Malaysia.
It is very dangerous to have a dissenting voice. If you're not part of the whatever, some people tend to kill you for it. And when you get killed, you die.
However, there were people who taught me that after you have chosen your fight, do so fearlessly. There will be hordes of spiteful people on your tail, but guess what? They're on your tail, eating your bullshit.
First of all, religion is not my fight. I ended that years ago. I believe that whatever you believe in, suits you best. Even if you believe in an invisible pink unicorn, you deserve the invisible pink unicorn. In fact, take that invisible pink unicorn, shine it up real nice, turn that sumbitch sideways, kiss it for good luck and stick it up your candy ass.
Like I give a shit.
The only thing I want to say is that always value a dissenting voice. I was a part-time lecturer, briefly, at a private college last year. There were some dissenting voices about my syllabus and teaching style. I did not seek out to silence those voices. I mean, it is not my job to be SEEN or DEEMED as right. I believe that it is my duty to get these people out of their shells and take command of the world around them.
Of course, there is a delicate balance to be maintained.
In the end, some of the opposing voices scored very high. I don't care whether it was their righteousness or their hard work that got them there. What matters is that they got there, in the end. Some even went beyond my expectations and delivered some really amazing demonstrations of their skills.
I thought that I wanted to stop teaching, but seeing as to how some of the students did, and how some conveyed their thanks, I am intrigued to perhaps do that again.
So, back to meditation. Meditation has worked for me in lessening my cough and calming my overactive head. My problem, since I was a young child, was focus. I hate discipline and couldn't force myself to sit down and really just finish something, without a Herculean effort of concentration.
I find that emptying my mind of everything else and focusing on a singular point helps a lot in doing whatever I set out to do. It also eliminates everyone else from my universe. I stop thinking about other people's moves, emotions and eventual destruction. Everything will come, in time. Thinking about it does not make things happen.
I just focus on what I need to do. I know how I want to spend my 30s and it is not doing some of the things I have done before. I want to try out new things before routine starts.
And if I piss some people off along the way, well, you can't make omelettes without cracking a few eggs.
One senior editor once told me, "Amir, I have pissed off two Prime Ministers and a bunch of ministers during my time. I have received threats to my life and condemnation from many quarters - most of whom have never known me at all. And you know what? I'm still the ___ of ____."
At the end of the day, you need to decide what matters. The fights that matter, the people who do matter. The rest are all, well, garbage in your head. Bogging you down and holding you back from your own dreams and responsibilities.
That, I do believe in.
"You'll go crazy," they said.
Well, there has been cases where people who talk about religion being carted off to death camps, ehem, I mean, 'rehabilitation centers', right here in Malaysia.
It is very dangerous to have a dissenting voice. If you're not part of the whatever, some people tend to kill you for it. And when you get killed, you die.
However, there were people who taught me that after you have chosen your fight, do so fearlessly. There will be hordes of spiteful people on your tail, but guess what? They're on your tail, eating your bullshit.
First of all, religion is not my fight. I ended that years ago. I believe that whatever you believe in, suits you best. Even if you believe in an invisible pink unicorn, you deserve the invisible pink unicorn. In fact, take that invisible pink unicorn, shine it up real nice, turn that sumbitch sideways, kiss it for good luck and stick it up your candy ass.
Like I give a shit.
The only thing I want to say is that always value a dissenting voice. I was a part-time lecturer, briefly, at a private college last year. There were some dissenting voices about my syllabus and teaching style. I did not seek out to silence those voices. I mean, it is not my job to be SEEN or DEEMED as right. I believe that it is my duty to get these people out of their shells and take command of the world around them.
Of course, there is a delicate balance to be maintained.
In the end, some of the opposing voices scored very high. I don't care whether it was their righteousness or their hard work that got them there. What matters is that they got there, in the end. Some even went beyond my expectations and delivered some really amazing demonstrations of their skills.
I thought that I wanted to stop teaching, but seeing as to how some of the students did, and how some conveyed their thanks, I am intrigued to perhaps do that again.
So, back to meditation. Meditation has worked for me in lessening my cough and calming my overactive head. My problem, since I was a young child, was focus. I hate discipline and couldn't force myself to sit down and really just finish something, without a Herculean effort of concentration.
I find that emptying my mind of everything else and focusing on a singular point helps a lot in doing whatever I set out to do. It also eliminates everyone else from my universe. I stop thinking about other people's moves, emotions and eventual destruction. Everything will come, in time. Thinking about it does not make things happen.
I just focus on what I need to do. I know how I want to spend my 30s and it is not doing some of the things I have done before. I want to try out new things before routine starts.
And if I piss some people off along the way, well, you can't make omelettes without cracking a few eggs.
One senior editor once told me, "Amir, I have pissed off two Prime Ministers and a bunch of ministers during my time. I have received threats to my life and condemnation from many quarters - most of whom have never known me at all. And you know what? I'm still the ___ of ____."
At the end of the day, you need to decide what matters. The fights that matter, the people who do matter. The rest are all, well, garbage in your head. Bogging you down and holding you back from your own dreams and responsibilities.
That, I do believe in.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Men and Women of Tomorrow
I now have a new yardstick for measuring children's potential. If your child can't make a Lamb Wellington by the time he or she is 12, you have failed as a parent. If he or she does not know what duxelle is and how to cook it to perfection, you have failed as a parent.
I have three nephews. That's not the same as having children. Thank God, it's not the same as having children. I never want children, because it is a huge responsibility. Having nephews means I can take them out once in a while, and buy them books they may never read.
However, seeing the kids featured in Junior Masterchef Australia and Live to Dance, I am made very aware of how far behind Malaysian children, parents, and our society in general are compared to those in other countries.
We may be ahead of say, Ghana, but that's no excuse, really.
The thing is not about creating prodigies, or nurturing geniuses, but what I saw in those TV shows are attitudes and temperament which I do not see here.
In Live to Dance, the very first contestant was Jalen, who is like, 9 years old? Maybe 10. He dances. Okay, fine. His father was the one who intrigued me. He was a man, probably in his 40s, tattooed on both his arms. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a tough guy.
But he was crying like a bitch as he said this, "I never got the support and opportunity from my parents, so it was important for Jalen to have everything I never had."
Looking at the kid and how he performed, as well as his sunny disposition, I believe that that is a happy kid with a loving father.
There are numerous other examples. Most clear are the kids on Junior Masterchef Australia. These kids are from 8-12 years old and they are cooking dishes that are usually done only by accomplished chefs.
Take Pierre, who did the Lamb Wellington - the lamb version of Gordon Ramsay's Beef Wellington. While it took those chefs years of practice and getting it right, Pierre simply did it almost subconsciously, from his cooking time with his grandma.
There's Jack, from Tasmania, who always prepares his dishes with an artistic flair. And the sisters (twins?) who will probably place in the top three - Isabella and Sofia.
They do stuff from souffles to chicken pies and whatever else that comes to mind. Even prawn with chocolate and lime sauce.
I was actually watching the adults in that show. No matter how prodiguous, these are still kids and the dishes they cook may sometimes get burnt or suffer from any number of imperfections.
But this is what was said to the boy who made the prawns with lime and chocolate sauce - "I don't want you to ever stop being creative."
I can imagine that a dish of prawn with chocolate and lime sauce may taste weird at best, or downright horrible at worst, but the reaction from the judges and the sheer knowledge of these kids show me that there are better communities to raise your kids in. Where they get proper support and perhaps get taught the kind of values that may take some time for kids in other countries to discover on their own.
I have been playing with my nephews, and even though their parents work hard at putting food on the table, and fattening them up, I sense that those three will have to rely only on their innate sense of right and wrong as well as talent and intelligence that they were born with.
This is not a condemnation. I am not going on a moral high horse, because I do not believe in morals, except for ones I set upon myself. I am not calling any parent - well, not most of you - stupid.
I am merely saying that after I have seen what is possible, I often wonder what kind of bullshit is being done on most Malaysian kids, by bullshit parents?
I come from a family of teachers, and after watching those shows, we sat down and discussed somewhat why I have never seen Malaysian kids attain that level of knowledge, security and sense of responsibility.
I am not talking about music and math geniuses. I am talking about the demeanour and how these kids carry themselves.
We all have gone through the education system, and most of us have been brought up by human parents. I guess we all see the flaws ourselves.
When I was a kid, all I was ever told was to get As in my exams. While the curriculum (which means 'chariot horse' in Latin, I was told) was done by very smart people, I believe that the culture of merely getting As as infinitely flawed.
I was never taught to have a thirst or respect for knowledge. I was taught to get number one, regardless of the consequences. I got them all, but at a very young age, I have suspected that there are more things to it.
Science was not taught with wonder and excitement, as well as a dose of history, but with notes on what kind of questions will come out in the exams.
And I see two kinds of parents - those who push their children to get As, and those who make excuses when their children don't. I see both groups as doing a disservice to their kids.
Some parents teach their kids to be manipulative and sneaky. The young people are threatened with abandonement and rejection.
I know it is hard to control five year olds. But... really?
I do not believe that it is yet possible for the adults in this country - myself included - to teach kids the kind of awareness I see in kids from other countries. There, I see the future.
This is why, I have always advised my friends who have children, to take their kids and raise them elsewhere. They might grow up to be the Mahathirs if they are left to develop here, but Dr M is but one person of 28 million.
I have three nephews. That's not the same as having children. Thank God, it's not the same as having children. I never want children, because it is a huge responsibility. Having nephews means I can take them out once in a while, and buy them books they may never read.
However, seeing the kids featured in Junior Masterchef Australia and Live to Dance, I am made very aware of how far behind Malaysian children, parents, and our society in general are compared to those in other countries.
We may be ahead of say, Ghana, but that's no excuse, really.
The thing is not about creating prodigies, or nurturing geniuses, but what I saw in those TV shows are attitudes and temperament which I do not see here.
In Live to Dance, the very first contestant was Jalen, who is like, 9 years old? Maybe 10. He dances. Okay, fine. His father was the one who intrigued me. He was a man, probably in his 40s, tattooed on both his arms. For all intents and purposes, he looked like a tough guy.
But he was crying like a bitch as he said this, "I never got the support and opportunity from my parents, so it was important for Jalen to have everything I never had."
Looking at the kid and how he performed, as well as his sunny disposition, I believe that that is a happy kid with a loving father.
There are numerous other examples. Most clear are the kids on Junior Masterchef Australia. These kids are from 8-12 years old and they are cooking dishes that are usually done only by accomplished chefs.
Take Pierre, who did the Lamb Wellington - the lamb version of Gordon Ramsay's Beef Wellington. While it took those chefs years of practice and getting it right, Pierre simply did it almost subconsciously, from his cooking time with his grandma.
There's Jack, from Tasmania, who always prepares his dishes with an artistic flair. And the sisters (twins?) who will probably place in the top three - Isabella and Sofia.
They do stuff from souffles to chicken pies and whatever else that comes to mind. Even prawn with chocolate and lime sauce.
I was actually watching the adults in that show. No matter how prodiguous, these are still kids and the dishes they cook may sometimes get burnt or suffer from any number of imperfections.
But this is what was said to the boy who made the prawns with lime and chocolate sauce - "I don't want you to ever stop being creative."
I can imagine that a dish of prawn with chocolate and lime sauce may taste weird at best, or downright horrible at worst, but the reaction from the judges and the sheer knowledge of these kids show me that there are better communities to raise your kids in. Where they get proper support and perhaps get taught the kind of values that may take some time for kids in other countries to discover on their own.
I have been playing with my nephews, and even though their parents work hard at putting food on the table, and fattening them up, I sense that those three will have to rely only on their innate sense of right and wrong as well as talent and intelligence that they were born with.
This is not a condemnation. I am not going on a moral high horse, because I do not believe in morals, except for ones I set upon myself. I am not calling any parent - well, not most of you - stupid.
I am merely saying that after I have seen what is possible, I often wonder what kind of bullshit is being done on most Malaysian kids, by bullshit parents?
I come from a family of teachers, and after watching those shows, we sat down and discussed somewhat why I have never seen Malaysian kids attain that level of knowledge, security and sense of responsibility.
I am not talking about music and math geniuses. I am talking about the demeanour and how these kids carry themselves.
We all have gone through the education system, and most of us have been brought up by human parents. I guess we all see the flaws ourselves.
When I was a kid, all I was ever told was to get As in my exams. While the curriculum (which means 'chariot horse' in Latin, I was told) was done by very smart people, I believe that the culture of merely getting As as infinitely flawed.
I was never taught to have a thirst or respect for knowledge. I was taught to get number one, regardless of the consequences. I got them all, but at a very young age, I have suspected that there are more things to it.
Science was not taught with wonder and excitement, as well as a dose of history, but with notes on what kind of questions will come out in the exams.
And I see two kinds of parents - those who push their children to get As, and those who make excuses when their children don't. I see both groups as doing a disservice to their kids.
Some parents teach their kids to be manipulative and sneaky. The young people are threatened with abandonement and rejection.
I know it is hard to control five year olds. But... really?
I do not believe that it is yet possible for the adults in this country - myself included - to teach kids the kind of awareness I see in kids from other countries. There, I see the future.
This is why, I have always advised my friends who have children, to take their kids and raise them elsewhere. They might grow up to be the Mahathirs if they are left to develop here, but Dr M is but one person of 28 million.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Recovery
I have been spending the past few days in Kuantan, my hometown.
The kind of drama and bullshit I face with and from my family eclipses anything I could ever face in my 'real life' in KL.
These people, my family, put each other through every imaginable psychological and emotional torture. Good thing is, I already made peace with them and their nature years ago.
I got information for some projects as well. We'll see what happens, after I'm done with it.
The kind of drama and bullshit I face with and from my family eclipses anything I could ever face in my 'real life' in KL.
These people, my family, put each other through every imaginable psychological and emotional torture. Good thing is, I already made peace with them and their nature years ago.
I got information for some projects as well. We'll see what happens, after I'm done with it.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Freedome!
Cut the bullshit.
If the BN wants to lose more majority and possibly seats in the next election, please, by all means, curb Internet freedom.
Without an outlet, the people may take either to the streets or the ballot box to express their dissatisfaction, real or imaginary.
If the BN wants to lose more majority and possibly seats in the next election, please, by all means, curb Internet freedom.
Without an outlet, the people may take either to the streets or the ballot box to express their dissatisfaction, real or imaginary.
Balls to the Wall
When I was in college, a lot of people say they want to make music videos. Some, wanted to do 3D design. Others, make movies, play in a band, work in advertising, whatever.
Now, like, more than eight years later, most of them are not.
I guess they eventually realised what hard work any of those things are. How little the money is, et cetera.
They perhaps didn't know the kind of hard work that goes into anything. Never anticipated it. Everything would just be laid down in front of your feet. And you get to enjoy prancing around, basking in the image of being creative.
Oh, don't get me wrong. I know some people in advertising whose tax returns alone are RM30,000 or more. They drive Beemers and Benzs, and the occasional Bentley. I know directors who make great money.
I have worked with people who make more than RM50,000 a month.
And many - though not a majority - are relatively young. Some are bastards. Some are angels. Some used or backstabbed everyone on their way up. Some, are very kind.
It is how it is.
No matter how high they get all of them talk about more or less the same things. How to be happy. How to fuck more pussy. How to make MORE money.
No use asking them, how much is enough? There's always something.
The happy people - doesn't matter if they're driving a Jaguar or they are drivers driving the Jag for someone else (I like to talk to drivers and security detail/bodyguards) - are always going on about this one drug: acceptance.
Now, I'm not gonna go all New Age and shit again here, but let me tell you a story.
I was in Thailand a lot, cause one of the keys to happiness is getting as much pussy as you can, and some red light districts in Thailand are like an ass buffet, and I love talking to dem hos. Sometimes, I talk to motherfuckers who fuck dem hos. And sometimes, I talk to drivers of tuktuks and cabs who drive dem hos around.
I ask them, "Are you okay with the sex industry?" "Are you okay with foreign men fucking your women?" "Are you okay with fucking strange men?"
The answer I got was consistent.
"Well, maybe in the previous life, she/I was a bitch. Now, she/I is a ho. Ho-hum."
And they're - some of them, at least - happy, sucking cock.
If I was sucking dick all day long, I'm not sure how I can be happy. But these people are. Some, are happier than me. Sucking cock.
Infer what you must.
Oh, and to tie this up, dem hos also have dreams, just like my college-mates. They want to open mini-marts.
Well, looking at the number of 7-Elevens in Thailand (1 every 200 metres in Bangkok and Phuket), I guess they're happy they're on their way to opening more convenience stores, one cock at a time.
Now, like, more than eight years later, most of them are not.
I guess they eventually realised what hard work any of those things are. How little the money is, et cetera.
They perhaps didn't know the kind of hard work that goes into anything. Never anticipated it. Everything would just be laid down in front of your feet. And you get to enjoy prancing around, basking in the image of being creative.
Oh, don't get me wrong. I know some people in advertising whose tax returns alone are RM30,000 or more. They drive Beemers and Benzs, and the occasional Bentley. I know directors who make great money.
I have worked with people who make more than RM50,000 a month.
And many - though not a majority - are relatively young. Some are bastards. Some are angels. Some used or backstabbed everyone on their way up. Some, are very kind.
It is how it is.
No matter how high they get all of them talk about more or less the same things. How to be happy. How to fuck more pussy. How to make MORE money.
No use asking them, how much is enough? There's always something.
The happy people - doesn't matter if they're driving a Jaguar or they are drivers driving the Jag for someone else (I like to talk to drivers and security detail/bodyguards) - are always going on about this one drug: acceptance.
Now, I'm not gonna go all New Age and shit again here, but let me tell you a story.
I was in Thailand a lot, cause one of the keys to happiness is getting as much pussy as you can, and some red light districts in Thailand are like an ass buffet, and I love talking to dem hos. Sometimes, I talk to motherfuckers who fuck dem hos. And sometimes, I talk to drivers of tuktuks and cabs who drive dem hos around.
I ask them, "Are you okay with the sex industry?" "Are you okay with foreign men fucking your women?" "Are you okay with fucking strange men?"
The answer I got was consistent.
"Well, maybe in the previous life, she/I was a bitch. Now, she/I is a ho. Ho-hum."
And they're - some of them, at least - happy, sucking cock.
If I was sucking dick all day long, I'm not sure how I can be happy. But these people are. Some, are happier than me. Sucking cock.
Infer what you must.
Oh, and to tie this up, dem hos also have dreams, just like my college-mates. They want to open mini-marts.
Well, looking at the number of 7-Elevens in Thailand (1 every 200 metres in Bangkok and Phuket), I guess they're happy they're on their way to opening more convenience stores, one cock at a time.
Freestyler
Rock-a-microphone!
Erm. I mean, freelancing is something like this:
Hard for me to explain, see?
My old mentor, Zainal Alam Kadir, taught me that any skill I learn in one discipline can be applied in other things.
Take, for example, writing. I spent most of my free time in high school reading and writing. That's all I ever did. Aside from watching my ass.
See, writing takes skill, right? Well, so do reading. When you read something, a writer would always, always, get inside the author's head. You need to.
For young kids, just think of Copy-Ninja Kakashi from Naruto. Kakashi has one Sharingan eye, which he uses to copy the moves of other ninjas.
It is not the moves, really, that you are learning. It is the essence. Because if you only follow the style, you're missing out on a whole shitload of stuff.
If you must know, I copied a lot of Tatsuya 'Sinfest' Ishida, Chris Rock, Neil Gaiman, Brian Michael Bendis, Frank Miller and Warren Ellis for a lot of my shit. Though I must say Gaiman is uncopiable, because he uses the same technique. His writing is basically done in the style of past greats like Michael Moorcock, Harlan Ellison and Ursula K LeGuin, as well as the Elder God of Writing Alan Moore.
Alan Moore is simply an alien. I can't get into his head. I just can't.
So anyway, freelance. Yes. Applying my not inconsiderable writing skills, I tell myself that I can write anything. And I did.
I have written articles, books, novels, short stories, scripts, papers, proposals, translations, whatever, man. You name it, I wrote it. I have written for any and all disciplines.
Sometimes, I didn't know how to do it. So I found out. I didn't know how a film script looks like. So I asked around. I got Yasmin Ahmad to show me her script. I bought the script and some artwork for Mirrormask - a movie Gaiman did with Dave McKean. Cost my over 200 bucks. I went to www.imSdb.com and downloaded some scripts such as the Academy Award winning A Beautiful Mind. Didn't cost me a thing.
See, if you want to do something, you can't simply do it by having the idea of it. A lot of people just like the idea of something. But when it comes to doing the work, they run away and hide. Why? Cause they're cowards.
Rule #1 - Freelancers must have balls.
I'm not saying actual testicles. I'm saying, you need to be brave. Courageous. Every problem is an opportunity to exercise your creativity.
If people ask me, 'Can you write this shit?' I'd say, 'Hell, yeah, I can.' You know why? Because I can. I do.
I have had normal and strange requests thrown at me. Anything from writing poems to be read on live TV (one by Lisa Surihanie and another by Rahim Razali and Fauziah Nawi, no less), to a 12-word translation for an accessory company.
I have been asked to write books, films, you name it. There is nothing written that I haven't tried my hand before.
Once you understand how a writer's mind works in order to come up with passages that resonate with you, or just some bits that you like, you can write. The next question would be, do you want to?
The Truth is, freelance writing is just like any other freelance job. The freedom, the risks are more or less the same.
First thing you have to learn, is that it's a big bad world out there. Some people won't pay you. Some, would press you like you're their bitch. Well, if it's a high-paying gig, then that would be okay. If it's not, RUN!
Always, always protect yourself with black and white. Contracts are vital. Emails are important. If possible, NEVER delete any email. Some courts accept email evidence. And the people's court can be just as damaging.
Be careful what kind of contract you sign, if any. Read everything. EVERYTHING. If you don't want to, do not be a freelance writer. Get a desk job somewhere or fuck a rich guy. Or have your mother fuck a rich guy.
Now, the interesting part. How do you get freelance jobs?
Well, to this day, this remains a mystery to me. In 2003, after I graduated, I got lots of jobs writing. In 2006, I got even more jobs. In 2011, it seems as if that door has opened again.
The universe will provide for you. If you're good at your craft, word gets around. People will look for you.
If they don't, you've got to start looking. In fact, I look everywhere. I do not say no to meetings. I check my email every day. Return all my missed calls. You never know, you know?
Where to look? Well, there is the Internet. Don't be fooled by MLM scams or conmen. Know your industry. Know what people want. Know how the world works. And never trust anyone. Always have your own back. Never lend your money to druggies. I learned that the hard way.
I also believe in karma. I have done some good in my day, and I am reaping the benefits. I did not do those things so I could benefit from them, but it is a very humbling lesson that no good deed I have done has ever gone unrewarded or unpunished in some way.
Make yourself open. I believe that in order to accept, you have to let go. No new thing will come into your life until you have let go of some old things.
Be realistic. No one is going to say, "Hey, Amir, I'm going to pay you a million bucks a word while I suck your dick." It's not impossible, and I welcome it, but come on.
There are also people who bitch and moan about how little they get. Well, if they spent the time they wasted on bitching and moaning about it on actually finding work, they might get some.
Finding the work is important, but never forget to do it. Always set some standards.
With me, it's simple. I do the best I can, or I don't do it at all. I'm the best at what I do, or I don't do it.
Remember, when finding freelance work, or doing any kind of business, always believe in abundance.
I'm not talking about some stupid delusional abundance some rah-rah idiots subscribe to. That's pathetic, insulting and stupid, to assume that things will just fall into place, that work will do itself, that jobs will just fall out of the sky. I have met lots of lazy-assed people. Great minds, heavy ass. If you meet these people, RUN! RUNNN! You know why? Cause you'll end up with all the work, and you can't afford that cause time - your time - is money. Your money.
That being said, I have experienced some occasions when some jobs just fell out of the sky. I am not ashamed to tell you that when some of these things happen, I go home and fucking cry. Like a bitch.
It will happen to everyone. I believe that. You just have to live long enough for it to happen. It's not magic, it is the accumulation of your good work, your good name and your good deeds. Also, lots and lots of luck.
I asked one guy the other day, "How did you find out about me?" He said, "I dunno. I just Googled 'writer Malaysia' and your name popped out in a list. No one else on that list replied to my emails."
I tried to Goggle 'writer Malaysia' or 'Journalist Malaysia' and my name was not in any list. I'm not a legendary journalist, nor do I want to be one. But for one moment, one instant, the Gods of the Internet showed him my name, and my email. And lo and behold, I was writing a proposal for something that could keep me afloat for some time.
Some people I met in a bar recommended me for some jobs. All I did was share my views on women. I didn't know it was a job interview.
It's nice to have contacts, but it is not necessary. Also, I do not believe in being a cutthroat Machiavellian or doing things the macha-vellian way.
As long as it is not confidential, I like to share my information and knowledge. Will writing all these tips spoil the market for me? Will people who follow these things I wrote take away jobs from me?
Nope.
Well, at least I don't think so. See, I am not a man of faith, but I do have faith in myself, my skills and my work ethics. I'm not a wishy-washy pimple-faced teenager. In fact, I never had a serious pimple problem.
I do not believe in harping on scarcity. I believe in abundance. I believe that there is more than enough for everyone. Also, that the more you share, the more you gain, but that is not the point of sharing.
At the end of the day, just be good. Be good at what you do. Be a good person.
Erm. I mean, freelancing is something like this:
Hard for me to explain, see?
My old mentor, Zainal Alam Kadir, taught me that any skill I learn in one discipline can be applied in other things.
Take, for example, writing. I spent most of my free time in high school reading and writing. That's all I ever did. Aside from watching my ass.
See, writing takes skill, right? Well, so do reading. When you read something, a writer would always, always, get inside the author's head. You need to.
For young kids, just think of Copy-Ninja Kakashi from Naruto. Kakashi has one Sharingan eye, which he uses to copy the moves of other ninjas.
It is not the moves, really, that you are learning. It is the essence. Because if you only follow the style, you're missing out on a whole shitload of stuff.
If you must know, I copied a lot of Tatsuya 'Sinfest' Ishida, Chris Rock, Neil Gaiman, Brian Michael Bendis, Frank Miller and Warren Ellis for a lot of my shit. Though I must say Gaiman is uncopiable, because he uses the same technique. His writing is basically done in the style of past greats like Michael Moorcock, Harlan Ellison and Ursula K LeGuin, as well as the Elder God of Writing Alan Moore.
Alan Moore is simply an alien. I can't get into his head. I just can't.
So anyway, freelance. Yes. Applying my not inconsiderable writing skills, I tell myself that I can write anything. And I did.
I have written articles, books, novels, short stories, scripts, papers, proposals, translations, whatever, man. You name it, I wrote it. I have written for any and all disciplines.
Sometimes, I didn't know how to do it. So I found out. I didn't know how a film script looks like. So I asked around. I got Yasmin Ahmad to show me her script. I bought the script and some artwork for Mirrormask - a movie Gaiman did with Dave McKean. Cost my over 200 bucks. I went to www.imSdb.com and downloaded some scripts such as the Academy Award winning A Beautiful Mind. Didn't cost me a thing.
See, if you want to do something, you can't simply do it by having the idea of it. A lot of people just like the idea of something. But when it comes to doing the work, they run away and hide. Why? Cause they're cowards.
Rule #1 - Freelancers must have balls.
I'm not saying actual testicles. I'm saying, you need to be brave. Courageous. Every problem is an opportunity to exercise your creativity.
If people ask me, 'Can you write this shit?' I'd say, 'Hell, yeah, I can.' You know why? Because I can. I do.
I have had normal and strange requests thrown at me. Anything from writing poems to be read on live TV (one by Lisa Surihanie and another by Rahim Razali and Fauziah Nawi, no less), to a 12-word translation for an accessory company.
I have been asked to write books, films, you name it. There is nothing written that I haven't tried my hand before.
Once you understand how a writer's mind works in order to come up with passages that resonate with you, or just some bits that you like, you can write. The next question would be, do you want to?
The Truth is, freelance writing is just like any other freelance job. The freedom, the risks are more or less the same.
First thing you have to learn, is that it's a big bad world out there. Some people won't pay you. Some, would press you like you're their bitch. Well, if it's a high-paying gig, then that would be okay. If it's not, RUN!
Always, always protect yourself with black and white. Contracts are vital. Emails are important. If possible, NEVER delete any email. Some courts accept email evidence. And the people's court can be just as damaging.
Be careful what kind of contract you sign, if any. Read everything. EVERYTHING. If you don't want to, do not be a freelance writer. Get a desk job somewhere or fuck a rich guy. Or have your mother fuck a rich guy.
Now, the interesting part. How do you get freelance jobs?
Well, to this day, this remains a mystery to me. In 2003, after I graduated, I got lots of jobs writing. In 2006, I got even more jobs. In 2011, it seems as if that door has opened again.
The universe will provide for you. If you're good at your craft, word gets around. People will look for you.
If they don't, you've got to start looking. In fact, I look everywhere. I do not say no to meetings. I check my email every day. Return all my missed calls. You never know, you know?
Where to look? Well, there is the Internet. Don't be fooled by MLM scams or conmen. Know your industry. Know what people want. Know how the world works. And never trust anyone. Always have your own back. Never lend your money to druggies. I learned that the hard way.
I also believe in karma. I have done some good in my day, and I am reaping the benefits. I did not do those things so I could benefit from them, but it is a very humbling lesson that no good deed I have done has ever gone unrewarded or unpunished in some way.
Make yourself open. I believe that in order to accept, you have to let go. No new thing will come into your life until you have let go of some old things.
Be realistic. No one is going to say, "Hey, Amir, I'm going to pay you a million bucks a word while I suck your dick." It's not impossible, and I welcome it, but come on.
There are also people who bitch and moan about how little they get. Well, if they spent the time they wasted on bitching and moaning about it on actually finding work, they might get some.
Finding the work is important, but never forget to do it. Always set some standards.
With me, it's simple. I do the best I can, or I don't do it at all. I'm the best at what I do, or I don't do it.
Remember, when finding freelance work, or doing any kind of business, always believe in abundance.
I'm not talking about some stupid delusional abundance some rah-rah idiots subscribe to. That's pathetic, insulting and stupid, to assume that things will just fall into place, that work will do itself, that jobs will just fall out of the sky. I have met lots of lazy-assed people. Great minds, heavy ass. If you meet these people, RUN! RUNNN! You know why? Cause you'll end up with all the work, and you can't afford that cause time - your time - is money. Your money.
That being said, I have experienced some occasions when some jobs just fell out of the sky. I am not ashamed to tell you that when some of these things happen, I go home and fucking cry. Like a bitch.
It will happen to everyone. I believe that. You just have to live long enough for it to happen. It's not magic, it is the accumulation of your good work, your good name and your good deeds. Also, lots and lots of luck.
I asked one guy the other day, "How did you find out about me?" He said, "I dunno. I just Googled 'writer Malaysia' and your name popped out in a list. No one else on that list replied to my emails."
I tried to Goggle 'writer Malaysia' or 'Journalist Malaysia' and my name was not in any list. I'm not a legendary journalist, nor do I want to be one. But for one moment, one instant, the Gods of the Internet showed him my name, and my email. And lo and behold, I was writing a proposal for something that could keep me afloat for some time.
Some people I met in a bar recommended me for some jobs. All I did was share my views on women. I didn't know it was a job interview.
It's nice to have contacts, but it is not necessary. Also, I do not believe in being a cutthroat Machiavellian or doing things the macha-vellian way.
As long as it is not confidential, I like to share my information and knowledge. Will writing all these tips spoil the market for me? Will people who follow these things I wrote take away jobs from me?
Nope.
Well, at least I don't think so. See, I am not a man of faith, but I do have faith in myself, my skills and my work ethics. I'm not a wishy-washy pimple-faced teenager. In fact, I never had a serious pimple problem.
I do not believe in harping on scarcity. I believe in abundance. I believe that there is more than enough for everyone. Also, that the more you share, the more you gain, but that is not the point of sharing.
At the end of the day, just be good. Be good at what you do. Be a good person.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Smallville
I build my life around the philosophy I find in comic books. And sometimes, TV series inspired by the comic books.
I don't like Smallville anymore. Not since it outlived its freshness a few seasons ago.
But I am watching season 10, because it may be the last one.
In one of the episodes, Brainiac 5 travelled from the future and gave some advice to Clark Kent who was going through some crisis.
Previously, in Smallville, Jor-El has forsaken Clark Kent. All the tests, trials and manipulation were for naught. Clark has to find his own way to becoming Earth's mightiest defender. This being Smallville, he goes on an emo trip.
Brainiac 5 shows Clark what happened in the past, present and future.
"Don't dwell on the past, and don't worry about tomorrow," said Brainiac 5.
"Yeah, I forgot what was in front of me all the time," said Clark.
For some reason, this reminds me of Pootie Tang.
"Sine your pity on the runny kine. Say sadatay, and be okay," said Pootie.
Oh yeah, baby. Wapatah, camietown. Whattatah.
I don't like Smallville anymore. Not since it outlived its freshness a few seasons ago.
But I am watching season 10, because it may be the last one.
In one of the episodes, Brainiac 5 travelled from the future and gave some advice to Clark Kent who was going through some crisis.
Previously, in Smallville, Jor-El has forsaken Clark Kent. All the tests, trials and manipulation were for naught. Clark has to find his own way to becoming Earth's mightiest defender. This being Smallville, he goes on an emo trip.
Brainiac 5 shows Clark what happened in the past, present and future.
"Don't dwell on the past, and don't worry about tomorrow," said Brainiac 5.
"Yeah, I forgot what was in front of me all the time," said Clark.
For some reason, this reminds me of Pootie Tang.
"Sine your pity on the runny kine. Say sadatay, and be okay," said Pootie.
Oh yeah, baby. Wapatah, camietown. Whattatah.
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