I was in Alor Setar as part of Honda’s HDF team; it was quite superb, complete with that old-school, rustic vibe.  As cliched as it might sound, Kedah’s padi fields are magically idyllic, and it’s a pity that I didn’t take many photos of them.  Mayhaps in the next bout.

It’s another one of those mashes between today and tomorrow.  I’d love to know the name of AS’s version of the Space Needle.

With that said, it’s a shame that everything’s in the shits right now. I don’t quite understand how you can be an Independent with Barisan leanings. It’s essentially a political engagement — a quickie that somehow squirms its way into something more. Then again, I suppose a silver lining to this would be the fact that they were weeded out in the end.

The continuous mud-slinging from both sides isn’t doing any good for the people; yet I despise the way in which the newly formed Majority was minted. And I’m quite sure that some Perakians are incredibly uncomfortable with the chain on events. This is hardly a ‘Party For the People’. Nobody wanted them there in the first place.

The ‘People’ in question have been cheated. Are they going to be given the chance to opt for a fair fight?

It’s hard to be impartial. And it’s hard to want to give a chance to a motley crew of blank-shooting wankers.

I haven’t done any favours to people by being the way that I am; nor have I ever claimed that I was trying to make things better for people. I can only be my own caretaker; and I’m failing miserably at that task. I don’t really see myself as being capable of looking after someone else’s interests, when my own interests are being so excellently denied. Once in a while, there’d come a blaze of confidence that’d sling its way to me — some form of blinding possitivism that would somehow reaffirm my position and standing in life. I’ve always believed that I’m the star of my own show. Which gives me the right to be as much of a diva as I want, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else but me.

I’m not looking to hurt people. But I can’t deny that I have. Being alone is a horrible solution to any problem, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that it can’t turn into a good one. If being cruel to be kind is an extreme form of the means justifying the end, then it can’t all be that bad. It’s selfless, no?

Equations can be changed and removed and etched and torn asunder and made anew.

I guess I’m just waiting for something to come along and pierce me at the side (figuratively).

Things are slow again.

I’m so behind on this tech rubbish.

But I love the novelty value.

Alas. That takes care of that.

I’ve been predicting the eventual drainage of whatever luck I have, but so far, the chips have been falling in my favour; everything that’s resembled an obstacle has conveniently morphed itself into something pleasant. Or it’s been magically wished away.

Therefore, I shall now do the familiar:

My luck’s going to run out on me before I know it.

There. I’ve signaled the death-knell once again.

Happenstance can’t be dancing with me forever.

But there’s a tinge of truth to it.

It’s hard to filter through how someone feels about you, and how much of that appeals to you more than what you feel for them.

Funnily enough, we might just want to hold on to someone for the sake of how they make us feel — and not so much about how much we might possibly feel for them.

It makes you wonder if relationships are ever truly mutual — whether or not you’re getting what you’re giving…and whether or not you’re getting what you’re expecting.

Something real comes from the act of compromising your expectations. Readjustments. Spine reticulations.

I’m not saying that lowering your expectations will solve all your problems; you should never settle for less. But there’s no harm in settling for something different.

We’ve beat the beaten track into submission.

Maybe it’s time for a little air.

I was happier then, when my mind was at ease and my balls were firmly connected to my pelvis.

Now, every day seems surreal. Driving to work has become an adventure in itself. The people I know and the people I meet remind me of cardboard cutouts that sprang to life from some strange quarry in the back of my mind.

Then it repeats itself. An incredibly sickening, overplayed mantra that rings true for every one of us: ‘there’s got to be more than this’.

Some people can be incredibly satisfied with what they have. Some people are more than happy to settle for less. Some people know what they want. Some people know what they don’t want.

I don’t want to go thru each day like it doesn’t exist. But I think I’ve come to a point where it doesn’t really make a difference anymore.

I’m so tired.

There is no plan. There’s no method to the madness.

You do what you want because you feel that it’s right.

You do what you want because you feel that you want to.

You do what you want because you feel that you can.

We don’t get many chances to be swept up in whatever moments we find ourselves in.

Maybe it’s time we changed all that.

They’re really annoying.

I hope they don’t affect my cars.

Uno’s already growing slightly cuckoo from the noise.

For the first time in weeks, I’m actually feeling quite balanced.

(Or just a bit happier.)

I’m a chippy bastard.

I’ve been starting to feel the pull of monotony taking over. What was once drudgery has now evolved into a different kind of beast; a beast where aloofness is the norm, and where the chances of becoming wayward are as slim as a eunuch being tadpole-armed.

I don’t expect excitement to be procured over the course of the immediate future. It’d just be brilliant if I could pull myself out of the hole that I’ve dug. The bright side of all this is that the aforementioned hole is starting to become more shallow by a will of its own.

There’s got to be more than this.