Review, NOT! Snow White and the Huntsman

Firstly, madness! Kristen Stewart is Snow White? The fairest of them all? Supposedly hotter than Charlize Theron? Which retard did the casting? Some lady called Lucy Bevan it seems.

So nevermind the obvious casting disaster. This movie was supposed to offer a dark take on the famous fairy tale that inspired it. By fairest blood it was done, and only by fairest blood...and a bit of rutted acting, some problematic pacing and a pinch of confused script...can it be undone.

Each time the word "fair" was mentioned in the film, one can't help but to wonder on which planet is Kristen Stewart supposed to be hotter than Charlize Theron? Rupert Sanders effortlessly manages to waste a lifetime opportunity to deliver a definitive Snow White for the 21st century audience in contemporary cinematic experience. Nevermind the missing classical scene of preparing the poison apple or the prince's kiss that resurrected Snow White.

Some parts of the movie looked stunning, entrancing and enchanting with its highly design-driven production but there is no heart in this latest remake of the Grimm Brother's story. That was why Queen Ravenna needed Snow White's heart!

Other parts of the movie were draggy, corny in some parts, and pointless in others. It felt like the film crew was just shoehorning the Snow White elements in and almost seemed as if the movie got its cue from Lord of the Rings and Game of Thrones. If only it were as epic as the former or as insanely incestful as the latter. Speaking of which, did anyone noticed the White Tree of Gondor sigil on her shield? Why on Middle Earth is it there?

But the movie isn't all that bad. The plants, especially the one-eyed mushrooms and of course the fairies were all delightful and pleasing to the eyes. Almost seemed like you're journeying through the insanely rich and exotic wilderness of Pandora from Avatar. There is even enough animal relief in the show to make you wanna start singing "hi ho, hi ho".

One could swear that strong hints of Joan of Arc were also evident in Snow White, considering the fact she was reciting the Lord's Prayer. But if that were the case, no one could swear upon it then supposedly!

Kristen Stewart totally ruined the movie for most people. There is no way she can be accepted as the fairest of them all. Not when she's standing next to Charlize Theron. The goddess Charlize "hot even when covered in milk" Theron!

Ultimately, one could probably chanced that Kristen Stewart is perhaps THE fairest of them all. Because maybe she is obviously fair. As in really skin pale fair. Instead of Snow White, she should have been casted as a snowman...or snowoman, whatever.

Flipping Coins

It is inevitable that no matter how hard the most of us and the best of us try to keep things in our life as simple as possible, we all end up making it complicated for ourselves most of the time. Yes, the most of us...and the best of us.

It has always been easier said than done, such is the order of human's divine nature. Such has always been the inner struggle we all contend ourselves with throughout our existence...

The eternal internal conflict where realisable reality meets inherent impossibility.

It is this very idea that has enabled us to tread forward with hope, shedding away our shell of doubtful credence and donning the cloak of steadfast constancy.

Sometimes we sell ourselves short of other people's expectations. Rarely do we sell ourselves short of our own expectations. But when that happens, it is a sign that we have become too hard on ourselves.

It is like the stifled ricocheting of fallen autumn leaves bouncing off from car to car. No matter how fast or hard a car drives and hits the fallen leaves, they are never crushed. Always darting and bouncing off harmlessly, effortless and lightless. Its movements in a blur of all its natural majestic splendour, but always true and sure. Swaying in its relentless evasion of the vehicular onslaught, never having a constant path in the air, but always having a perpetual destination...that is to settle aground in every realisable reality.

Is this why then that we make the inherently impossible decisions in the pursuit of simplifying our self expectations?

Because if it is hope that has accompanied us forward from our conflicts, then the autumn leaves are exactly like the decisions we make in life. The cars being the people who drives us, expects from us and where we sometimes have to accomodate and compromise with them.

So if we ever doubt our decisions, if we ever think life is complicated, be rest assured that these things that happen may not have a constant path but the final destination is always in sight.

It never is easy when hard decisions are on the table. But it's never complicated to make them in the beginning.

When you have to make a hard decision, what do you do? You flip a coin. Why? Because when that coin is in the air, at the cusp of its realisable trajectory, just before the very crux of its inherent fall, you suddenly know what you are hoping for.

Art Imitating Life

Lately I have come to believe that any state of presence in our perceived reality has got a lot to do with complimenting the abstract actuality of the present. It is a concept I dreamt a lot of in the past month, but the idea dates back to the very origin of time. The beginning of time. Over the course of recorded history, it has been inferred in many definitions. I call it being in existence. To the rest of the world today, it is simply Life.

It is one of the simplest words in human history, in all its different language forms and glory. It is also one of the most recognisable words in human cultures, in all its coloured traditions and beliefs. But it is probably the only word out there that cannot be defined or answered, ever. I can apppreciate the irony and cosmic significance of its meaning compressed into such a fine and simple form.

The playing pieces from the chequered board of recent events have given me much pause in areas of my thoughts. The supposedly distinct colours on the chequered boxes were meant to help me tell apart the useful from the useless, the gems from moss stones, the faithful from the faithless, and the constant from the perjurer.

But it did not. And not because my visions were clouded, or my thoughts were muddied, nor my conscience were marred. It is because I have decided to realise the living aspect of my presence.

Many have poured their wisdom onto me and mostly from observations of what I have done and accomplished in such a short period of time in spite of what happened. The most common counsel dispensed is that change is the only constant thing in life.

I disagree. If change is constant in life, it means we have no choice over these changes. The ability, capacity and freedom to choose in the very first place means we have the independence to affect variable outcomes in our life. Change is a variable, not a constant. We all have choices and we make our own of it.

It is like art imitating life...

It is here at this juncture that I came to recognise my vernacular habit of using a certain phrase of mine in past entries...twice. The question begs itself for an answer to the reason why. But the bigger question is why am I using it for the third time now?

Because I am choosing to look for the complimenting self of things, people and events that I come across in my life so that the unconscious desire to repeat the phrase will finally be gratified and then fade away. In my own perceived reality of the present, I am trying to now look back and figure out each of the phrases I've ever created and explain how each of it has another complimenting meaning or definition to it. For this is how I choose to exist from now on; to balance it and to find parallel yet divergent meanings. It is not easy yet idiosyncratic. It is fear in risks itself. There will be consequences. 

Life is just not simply that to me anymore. Life is being in existence. You exist in your own presence. Therein lies its beauty. For it is like art imitating life...because life is like drawing without an eraser.

The Runaway Train

I can't sleep tonight. Yet I'm nightdreaming when awake. My mind keeps fleeting in and out of conscious abandonment with rickety recklessness. Notions of Life and its ephemerally embryonic existence darts in and out of the membrane of my hallucinatory reverie - maybe it's just the 3 cups of coffee I had today.

Pulled along the path of reflecting rectitude, I must progress. Caught in the tides of still sentiment, I must confess. And swept away by the waves of purposeful perseverance, I must aggress.

An awareness that is onboard a runaway train of equivocal intent, locked onto the tracks of steely prospect that churns out smokes of inconsistent faith leaves me with a lot of material and immaterial resolution for the year.

Words formed into phrases. Phrases fused into sentences. Sentences expressed into paragraphs. Paragraphs borne into purpose and the sentience takes precedence into milimalism.

Make time for prayers. Read more books than last year. Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes a day and meditate or pray. Sleep for 7 hours. Take at least a 10-30 minutes walk everyday and smile while you walk.

Do not compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about. Do away with thoughts on things out of your control. Invest your energy on the living force of the here and now. Do not overdo, keep your limits. Take yourself less seriously because no one else does. Waste time and energy not on gossips. Dream more in your waking moments. Envy is a waste of time because you already have all you need. Hate not for others as life is too short to be wasted on hating anyone. Make peace with your past so it will not spoil the present. You are in charge of your happiness. Problems are simply part of the curriculum that appear and fade away like algebra classes but the lessons you learn will last a lifetime; so realise life is a school and you're here to learn. Smile and laugh more often. Every argument out there is not for you to win. Agree to disagree.

Call your family often. Give something good to others each day. Forgive everyone for everything. Spend time with people over the age of 70 and under the age of 7. Try to make at least three people smile each day. What other people think of you is none of your business. Your job won't take care of you when you're sick. Family and friends will, so stay in touch.

Do the right things. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful. God heals everything. However good or bad a situation is, it will change. When you awake alive in the morning, thank God for it. And no matter how you feel; get up, dress up and show up! The best is yet to come.

As I end my entry in the lightless vicinity of my room, I concede to the importance of family and friends in life. Be that as it may, never depend on anyone but yourself in this world because even your shadow leaves you when you're in darkness.

Thwarted Panorama

Seven days feels like forever. It was in seven days the world as we know it and mankind was created. But what does seven days mean to one individual? In an inestimable sea of roving souls sailing the indeterminate vastness of this hallowed world, the last seven days conceded to become the cusp of my retrieving reclamation. The essence of the convalescence is now attained.

It was yesterday on the sixth day that I realised the cracks of my illusory invulnerability to the indiscretions dealt out were sipping through with allusions of relapsing. And as I was driving home, the kingly sight that splayed before my very eyes shaped the thwarted panorama of a possible individual who resided in the realm of receding reveries many, many years ago.

If I could chance that I once knew this individual, he was a man of timeless enthrallment. His state of being and air of presence were so pure and defined in his infantile existence that his very actions spawned a lifetime of imaginary serenities in the minds of people.

A boy who formed an attachment to his dog that when it left this world, he discarded his birth name and rechristened himself after his departed canine and would forever be known by that very name till he too came to pass.

A teenager who eventually gave up his childhood Christian faith and submitted into the amorphous atheist belief of a humanist and naturalist, not long after his beloved mother yielded to cancer.

A young adult where through his determinative years, imagined and created, chanced and manipulated, then expressed and conveyed the précis of all his abstractly formed attempts in provoking a realm of infinite likelihoods and convicting conscience.

A man who ultimately became a herald in pioneering one of the earliest form of fantasy writings for children in an epic and ambitious proportion culminating in a ménage of classics who also at this time rediscovered his Christian origin and re-embraced his childhood creed.

And finally an accomplished human being who captivated hearts and minds beyond a generation by his deeds and triumphs but whose devotion was also once again tested when he had to endure the claiming of his wife by the very malady that reaped his mother.

No one wants to ever live a day without their soulmate. He went through three years before following on to the other side.

I guess at the very end of it all, does it really even matter what he ever did and said in his lifetime? For if words from a man is to become the definition of his existence, then the man truly existed beyond his definitive words.

Because it is the very words of the last paragraph that so spurned my heart and belief in the first place that I had to understand why they were ever immortalised beyond his existence. It is now after understanding his heritage and affluence in life do I finally grasp the cusp of Clive Staples’ realm of receding reveries.

It is disturbingly heartening yet convincingly disconcerting to know that the creator of one of the best known stories for children vastly based on a love theme for everything that is alive yet being distinct in life, could paint a canvass of disparaging import for the very theme he so strongly based his works on.

In our seven days, we both discovered the different sides to the same coin.

Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.

--C.S. Lewis

A Few Five People

Just like how the river needs the rain to flow, life is a chain of constant changes in culture and customs needed in the master tapestry of show.

Experiencing the dismal task of needing to unlearn whatever you have learned and practiced over the many long years simply because you have been wrong about many a thing is never a pleasant realization. Especially if you have been blinded and deluded. 

These decisions made in the past trail the present like an aimless reaper out to place a death mark on the future, but only briefly. It is from this very spot that you begin to appreciate the gravity and sum of all fears and hopes with denominating dreams and binomial beliefs.

Isn't it simpler just to say that the eruditions of exceeding expectations exemplify extreme echoes of enchanted entryways into an ensemble of epiphanies?

Not it doesn't...but it is here that your mind lurches out for actuality in an eventual truth. The main players in this game of tapestry are thus the five people.

So it begins...

On the other side of the river of constancy, spread across the greener plains of allure is the people you want in life. They are always the easiest and most profuse choice. Are they the best? These types represent the unknown in our hearts, spurned from the curiosity of our familiarity and fueled by the yearning sensation of proscribed providence. Here is where the embodiment of your character is at its thinnest virtue and lowest conscience. Loyalty, honesty and trust are merely backdrops in this region.

Every rule has its exception and the argument here is that some of these people eventually become the person you need in life. There is greater credence here on the word 'need' than what is lent. It is here where Fate decides to host a weekend party with Destiny, while Luck shows up late with Serendipity and Order is seen dancing with Chaos in the enclosure prepared by Providence. Amidst the cosmic rivulet of this mix are the individuals you really needed. For better of worse and what other unknown purposes, you will never discern until you have sat through the entire celestial afternoon party. Then you can connect all the dots looking backward.

As natural as every eventuality, you open up yourself and allow them the independence to affect your life. They become people who help you. Indirectly or otherwise, they become the determinant of your heart. When you open up yourself to the kindness of others, you consent to the consequences of receiving love and dealing out affection in return. They become people who love you.

What goes up will surely fall and you will always be instinctively counting down the time. Thus, as the heart loves so must it break. Therein rests the ingenuous irony of the people who have hurt you from the very same people who love you. It is confusingly harsh that two of mankind's strongest and most influential emotions come from the same source of people. At the nadir of your poignant sorrow, you must grasp that the only way for you to stop hurting is for them to be gone. It is when you know they have become the very people who have left you.

Everyone needs a few five people in their lives. Because if you don't believe enough in anything, at the very least believe that God doesn't give you the people you want, he gives you the people you need. To help you, to hurt you, to leave you, to love you and to make you the person you were meant to be.

Shadowed Flames

The perception yielded in on itself, converged and collapsed and embraced experiences and sentiments and moments, then fluttered away into disjointed luminous, lustrous, precious strands; taut and resounding before fusing again into singularities.

The Observer saw that the perception was divergent. Not linear but parallel.

In the steely and metallic enclosure teemed with minds of worldly adulation, an assemblage of prominent individuals blanketed the floor - prime births from family backgrounds of the distinguished, the famed, the renowned, the influential, and the powerful. All so significant and yet piteous, so majestic and yet wretched in the knowledge of what is to befall upon mankind.

The Observer backed against the rugged wall behind a section of ancient relics and shrouded himself in obscurity. His silhouette was a blur of an outline; unremarkable and nondescript to the untrained eye. And the perception wove itself in and around and through him. He documented the traits of his subjects. Our subjects! It was the first time the voice inside his head spoke since his inception into tonight's stately reception.

Recovering from the fleeting setback, the Observer swiftly but methodically resumed his shadowing. His gaze slipping in and out of the audience's sinuously fabricated layers of nature and nurture, indifferent to the horizontal truths that enfolded ominously in their hearts. The very hearts that fed their swollen minds with promises of riches, pledges of loyalties, and assurances of spoils.

In his research, he saw what has happened. In his heart, he knew what has become. In his mind, he recognized the unraveling. And in his being, he believed what will be. Inevitability!

The voice again spoke in the Observer's mind. He was neither crazy nor disillusioned. Recollection flooded back and he remembered the silver piece of metal implanted into his left ear a long time ago. On the day he was received into the elite and privileged caste of individuals bestowed with the honorable responsibility to preserve reality's greatest manifestation.

That single piece of metal served as a gateway and access point for the possessor to gain entry and admission into a virtually limitless depository of information. It symbolized his kind's empowerment to the gifted for the evolution and survival of Reality's Greatest. It also worked as a conduit for inter-spacetime communications. You remember now...then it is about time.

An epiphany immediately flooded his awareness and the Observer was renewed. Emboldened by this new consciousness, he refocused his perception on the throng of people spread out before his resolute gaze.

His was the understanding of how far these humans - these so-called leaders of humanity have given up and forgotten reality in place of worldly adulations. The world was beset by plagues, overrun with undying fires, besieged by earthlanches, infested with artificials, and overwhelmed with many more upheavals and ruins. It was cataclysm at the primal level and all these individuals only cared about were money, businesses, alliances, and corporate charities.

The Observer could not comprehend how did they evolved from their hopeful and humble beginnings into this. It is the greed of mankind and losing sight of what was once fundamentally important but is now taken granted for.

He cringed at that thought. Each word, deed, and life was a mere drop in the infinite ocean of perceptions, persistently merging and separating to merge again. The belief would have challenged the feeble minded, the Observer saw; but his mind had been instructed to contain such contradictions as things being separate and having no distinctiveness.

With this conclusion, he pursed his lips and uttered voices in a low and inaudible sound inside his throat. The Observer spoke for the first time tonight to the voice within - his handler, "This knowledge, this pattern of the blueprint for what has happened so often before, is about to happen again".

The perception was completely parallel now; it was transforming and mutating. The Observer discerned patterns that floated on the surface of the cosmic rivulet. Again and again the pattern appeared in swirling images across the waters of an era and future and fate, submerging and manifesting with a cold precision that made even the Observer tremble.

Only true births can steer the course of the Manifestation into realizing its fullest potential.

"We have become so corrupt and full of ourselves, we have interlaced so many eons of our rich and honorable history with lies and deceit, destruction and annihilation. We've become slaves to our own culture and livelihood. We even forgot what it is to be human, to live on this planet as its guardian and custodian".

In an instant, the Observer ceased his shadowing and removed himself from the shroud of ancient relics. His fleeting steps took him as fast and far away from the enclosure, as sure as silence itself. He opened to what was out there; every second that ticked by represented another generational life span of a prime born.

Do not run from the inevitable...face it, embrace it! His handler challenged him to close in on himself, to not expose himself to the pain of the wreckage caught in the swollen minds of their subjects.

The Observer could not afford himself such luxuries, "I am not running from the inevitable, I am merely sprinting towards the preservation of reality's greatest manifestation...us humankind!"

Do you think humankind can be redeemed? Cursed be to those who see truth only but not reality! For Reality manifests but Humankind suffers the rest.

When the terrible knowledge of what had come before, and what was sure to unravel now within humanity, tainted the still flames of perception in his converted consciousness, he summoned all his energy and sent forth his howl, "I will not suffer their fate nor punish them for their transgressions!"

This made him indispensable.

The silence broke in and invaded the calmness. The handler retained his composure. There was stillness, and there was quiet.

Immobility transcends the Observer. Quietude finally persisted in the visage of serenity.

What have we to gain compared with all that we can lose?

The Tapestry

Amity, jealousy, relationship, compromise, diffidence, and brazenness when sewn together, becomes a ball of fluid blend with interweaving strings of dissolutive harmony. If I had a wish for tonight, I would have wished the strings not be sewn but threaded, the fabric not be coloured but dyed, and the cloth not be knitted but unraveled. So that I could see what I have been wearing myself with all this time of trying out the ambiguous apparels from the same wardrobe of constancy.

It is very difficult when all the bits and pieces involved in the making of the garments are spawned from the uncharitable and false hearts of men. In my calm and calculating mind, I wonder if they are the progenies of past profligates, whose only source of enlightenment and pleasure come from that of marring the bearer with licentious livery.

But it is what it is. People are who they are and every fabric in the master tapestry of amalgamation serves its own intention. The union around the draperies lined with untried and untested honesty. The embroideries within filled with adulterated integrity. These are the qualities of fabrics I adorn myself with in recent times.

The veracity of vile vehemence vexes my vigour and verve vividly.

So to what end I endure and provoke myself to continue serving out unconditional affection? There is no point in continually garnishing myself in the warmth of these outfits within, and take pleasure in the smooth comfort of the silky fabrics without, when they lend substance to the silky tongues to which my ears and eyes and essence were so deceived lately.

It is the attachment that makes it painful; unbearable most of the time but heart wrenching every time. There is no point in feeling so indisposed toward this company of frauds who could care no better for other people’s sentiment, less I be disposed during emotionally heightened moments.

I only fear now that I may be on a path to a semi-cloistered life but given the alternative, I know this reclusive realization is the higher road to take. It is after all, only pertinently personalized for the fakes, the coy, the boisterous, the conceited and the vain. I do not think loneliness will ever be a problem. It becomes a form of privacy; devotion to the deserving only.

It is no longer a wonder to me, how I feel about all this. Because of them, it made me appreciate the meaning of attachment, and the waste of it.

It may be that one of the worst things in life is attachment; because it hurts when you lose it. So is it sardonic to think that one of the best things in life is then loneliness? Just because it teaches you everything and when you lose it, you gain everything?

Devious Inception

KUALA LUMPUR: A massive nationwide joint operation was conducted by the local law enforcement and the state police reserves yesterday. It was the largest operation executed within the last 5 years eclipsing past major operations like those of Ops Sikap I, II, III, IV, ABC, JKL, RST, XYZ, Alpha, Iota, Omega and Zeta.

Roadblocks were setup at main highways, high-traffic exits and major shopping malls. Field reports indicated that all motor vehicles displaying the logo of the famous UK-based football club Manchester United were stopped and its drivers detained for questioning.

This action was a direct result from the ruling by the nation’s leading Fatwa scholars 5 days ago where the iconic symbol of the most successful football club on the planet (Manchester United) was deemed unislamic and is now illegal.

Eyewitness accounts reported the presence of expert Fatwa Extractors at the roadblocks. These highly-trained and highly-paid Extractors had standing orders to remove all visible and unlawful logos from the detained vehicles. In cases where the logos were irremovable, the vehicles were impounded and sent for scrapping.

An anonymous Extractor was approached for comments, “The f***! I don’t know why the f*** I am doing this. It is just my f***ing job and I just do it. Ask the f***ers at the Fatwa administration. I am just doing it for the f***ing money”.

The operation also showcased expert planning and execution as Fatwa Fireteams were strategically deployed at 5km radiuses throughout the Klang Valley to respond to any emergency requests to carry out their purpose. They were tasked with the unique responsibility of destroying these heretic logos onsite by incinerating it with extreme prejudice.

Traffic jams were widely reported throughout the Klang Valley. Priscilla Patrick who is a recognized local radio station personality broke the Guinness World Record for the longest traffic jam report at 3 hours 25 minutes and 7 seconds long.

It was an ugly scene of chaos as motor vehicles were in a deadlock. Traffic standstills at major shopping malls were reported to extend 10km to all directions. Most of these weekend shoppers were clueless about the cause of the jam and were stupefied to learn about the reason when they reached the roadblocks.

Reliable eyewitnesses indicated that motor vehicles with football team logos bearing the cross sign were being pulled over as well. A source reported that a Brazilian by the name of Felipo Fatwanha who was on a 2-month long vacation in KL was stopped by the police when his rented car was spotted displaying the Brazil football team logo. Subsequent investigation confirmed with a source from the Immigration that a certain Mr. Fatwanha left the country yesterday night via China Airways. He forfeited his Malaysian Airlines return ticket to Brazil which he accidentally left on the ticket counter. When reporters requested access to the ticket, a note was found written on the backside of the ticket which reads MH – MALAYSIAN HYPOCRISY.

Terror incidents were also reported at The Gardens and Pavilion shopping malls. Fatwa Forgers in plain clothes were seen stalking and harassing shoppers donning football jerseys like Man Utd, England, Portugal and Barcelona. Witnesses to the incidents reported that these unsuspecting shoppers were asked to remove their jerseys. The offenders were escorted to the nearest fitting rooms or toilets to facilitate the surrender of the contraband jerseys. The Forgers were also considerate enough to provide the hapless shoppers replacement jerseys in various size and colour. These replacement jerseys came with a set of printed number and name.

A clueless Portuguese offender who refused to be named on the matter was approached to comment on the actions of the Forgers and their thoughtful gesture, "Oh, I thought they (Forgers) were very professional and committed. And also very creative. The jersey is very nice too. The number is 1 and the name is Malaysia."

In other news, raids were simultaneously executed and spearheaded by Fatwa Pointmen at all sports outlet nationwide. All illicit football jerseys at these outlets were confiscated. Mysteriously there were no Fatwa Fireteams reported present onsite. Journalists on duty at The Gardens and Pavilion gave a similar report. The Police Commander issued a statement this morning that the value of the goods confiscated from the nationwide raids is worth RM7.8 million (USD2.3 mil) - equivalent to the amount allocated for the establishment of 14 Special Corruption Sessions Courts and 4 Special Corruption Appeal High Courts in the 2010 Budget.

A Miss Fatima Wahab aged 25, branch owner of a highly successful local sports franchise called Al-Ikhsan was seen in tears and traumatized by the audacity and persecution of the Pointmen, "Why they did it? I just opened my shop 3 weeks ago. It's my life savings. Now I am bankrupt. How am I going to pay the loan? Pay my rent? How am I to support my mother?” She was later observed entering Wisma MCA the evening of the same day.

An Indian boy at the scene who refused to be named but chose to be interviewed said, "Why did they (Pointmen) also took the Liverpool jerseys? Their logo are just birds!"

Mr. Fatil Watul, the Pointmen in charge at the scene responded, "Liverpool’s jersey promotes alcoholic beverages (Carlsberg). Alcohol is unislamic".

Major local newspaper journalists and TV station reporters combined resources to pinpoint the location of the elusive Fatwa Architect – the mastermind behind the carefully planned and perfectly executed operation. Overwhelming public outcry demanded an explanation from the Fatwa Administration. After combining resources and cross checking their network databases, the Architect was located at a mamak stall in Petaling Jaya.

When found, the Architect was wearing a football jersey from that of the Everton football club. Reporters enthusiastically questioned the Architect about the illegal jersey he was wearing, “Why? Everton’s jersey is just promoting elephant wildlife from a place called Chang in Thailand”.

A Specter's Past

What was once a seemingly straight road is now twisted, bent and forked.
This dreamscape I have or had...will it ever be written or walked?

The world is now a smaller place to me. This landscape that I tread upon is a carpet of indiscernible fate. Its outline so unapparent I am blinded by uncertainty and indecision.

I am struggling...no. I have been struggling for months. Or is it years now? Is it that hard to know a man's path in life? I've heard all the stories there is to know about discovering yourself, finding your destiny in life, becoming the person you are meant to be and more. These so called truisms come no where near in steering me towards a funneling point.

I keep revisiting these truisms like a phantom haunting my own past. And I've always had a hunch I knew what I wanted to do in life. What I wanted to become. What I know I am capable of, even if only in dreams. But too often the path spawned from an idea in the deepest chasm of my subconscious leads not to action.

It is always held back by my own pragmatic sieve. And the intuitive part takes hold and gets evaporated away by my own inferior flame.

I recall vividly the very enlightening moment I had about 2 months ago during a training I attended. In one of the sessions, I was asked to reflect deeply within me what I really wanted to do with my life if all constraints were taken away...if I had the world as my time. The possibilities were limitless but my subconscious only zeroed in on one thing that mattered.

The one thing that has defined me in the past couple of years. The thing that I take for granted so often but yet find so much joy and satisfaction in doing. The one thing I know for sure people recognize me for. Or is it all just part of me looking through a reflective mirror engulfed by wisps of wishful thinking? If that was even possible...and that is exactly my point!

The deadline approaches and I have to decide soon. To many, it may just be a small step. But to me, it is about breaking my inner limits. Coming out of my psychological shell to do that one thing that will put an end to all the self-doubts. For the hardest part is mustering that courage I know that will push me forward.

So will it come to the juncture? Where I'll say "There, I've done it. I've written my future".

Be that as it may, I will undoubtedly take that sentence up to its literal meaning at the end of the day. God willing. Please grant me the courage I so badly need for I see now...

I know that courage is the discovery that I may not win, and trying when I know I may lose.