fake plastic words

There is probably nothing in the world that I loathe more than stupidity and ignorance. Handling each at a time is difficult enough. But what makes it even more stupendously difficult is that both comes in a package. You can't be stupid but not ignorant and you can't possibly be ignorant and not stupid. Can you dig it? Of course you can. You're not stupid. Or are you?

I think the problem stems from a number of disturbing, unresolved swept-under-the-carpet issues in our society. By this I don't mean the whole rainbow spectrum of our glorious multi-cultural society, I mean us. Orang Melayu. According to my birth certificate, I am a Malay. But technically, I'm not a Malay by blood. I am Indian, Chinese, Indonesian, Arab, Persian, and a whole lot more that I'd need to wake my parents up to tell me because I can't remember the rest. My memory eats itself up almost instantaneously. Anyway, moving along before I forget what to write next.

Well, we have this idiotic rule that in this country it is impossible to be Malay and not Muslim, and be a Muslim and not be a Malay. In other words, lets say the 6' 2" redhead George Swanson from Ireland converts to Islam, Encik George bin Abdullah automatically becomes a Malay. White ass, freckles and all, till death do us part, Malay. No other country in the world has a rule like that stamped for all eternity in their Federal Constitution. The thing is, what I find funny is that there is no such thing as a Malay race to begin with. Don't diss me for such a foul, blasphemous statement. Blame the anthropologists. They said so.

According to those "experts", our ancestors migration can be traced from Southern China during the Ming Dynasty roughly 6,000 years ago. You can find traces of migration from Vietnam and Cambodia to present day Kelantan. On top of that there is also migration from Southern Thailand into that state. The Minangkabaus, as we all know, are descendants of Alexander the Great and a West Indian princess. If you think I'm joking go read up your Sejarah Malaysia textbook. And if I'm right, go slap yourself and say sorry to your parents for skipping all those Sejarah classes during school.

And of course we all know that Johorians' ancestors were originally Bugis. The Bugis predominantly live on Sulawesi, but interestingly enough, they're not even Indonesians to begin with. Neither do they fall into the same group as the migrating Southern Chinese of 6,000 years ago nor the Australo Melanesian group from Africa. The Bugis are a cross-breed between the Mongolian Chinese and the wandering Arab Pirates (to all those loyal members of the anti-Johorian club, now you have a scientific fact from an anthropological viewpoint to explain your sweet hatred for Johorians). The nephew of Daeng Kemboja was appointed the first Sultan of Selangor. That makes the entire Selangor Sultanate part Arab, part Chinese.

(Oh and remember the infamous princess Hang Li Poh that married a Sultan of Malacca? Fiction. Go get busy, do some research and you won't find a "Hang" in the list of princesses during the Ming Dynasty.)

If you go back in time, there was a 2,000 year-old Hindu empire in Kedah called Langkasuka. Predating both Borrobudur and Angkor Wat. The name Kedah originated from Hindi and Sanskit words, "Kadar" and "Kidara", which means "fertile land for rice cultivation". You can find plenty of Indian influences in our so-called very Malay culture today. The terms "Sultan" and "Raja" was adopted from Indian culture. The pelamin at weddings and the snake amulet that the Sultans wear today are photostat copies of Indian tradition.

(On a separate note, it's funny that we call ourselves Bumiputeras and the rest as, well, migrants. Well aren't you forgetting something? We are all migrants, idiot. Kau tu pendatang, aku pon pendatang, bangang. Amik kau kan dah rhyme)

And also, Parameswara wasn't the first Sultan in our ridiculously short history. The first one came 1,500 years ago. Can you dig that? Of course you can. You're not stupid. Anyway, carrying on. There is also a whole set of arguments pertaining the very definition of the word "Malay". But that'll turn this nonsense post into a thesis wannabe. Maybe another day for that impossibly crazy endeavour.

So, in short. We, the Malays, are a very new race. We are infants, children in the eyes of the world, in this 6,000 years of recorded history on this 4 billion year-old earth. It's been a long time since the Mesopotamians till today's Information Age. And in a larger context of world history, the Malays have just merely begun. Post-1969 National Economic Plan was crafted with that in mind, that the Malays, the Bumiputeras, needed help. We don't have the knowledge and experience of other older cultures such as the Chinese and the Indians. We're still learning and we need help. But unfortunately, many years later, it backfired. But that's a whole other different story. Worthy of another thesis wannabe, another sorry attempt at sounding clever. Maybe another day.

It took me awhile to realise why is it that the mat sallehs, of the same age, seemed to be far more matured, experienced and exposed in almost every aspect of life. I have family scattered all around the world, but the closest ones is an Englishman an a few Australians. I've come to learn much about our differences from them. Interacting, observing, listening. And I remember feeling so stupid and ignorant. The disparity was so nauseating I could've puked on myself out of sheer self-loathing.

(Don't fret, I've met my fair share of beautifully flawed mat sallehs. Shallow, boring, complete raving idiots. Half of them can't even spell correctly in their own mother tongue.)

Generalisations are horrible. Of course they are, all generalisations are horrible. But in most cases, they are unfortunately true. It's just that most people disregard and push them aside just because they're unpleasant and politically incorrect. Of course you can argue that there are exceptions, anomalies, etc. Well hello, that's what generalisations are, you genius. A "general" viewpoint. Nothing is perfect, just so you know.

You can blame our "stupidity and ignorance" to a thousand things. Terrible education system, bad governance, being an infant pseudo race, whatever. The future might seem bleak. But I'm sure there's a way out of it. There always is. When a door slams shut and breaks your nose, a window magically opens. And maybe if the door was cheap PVC, it'll crack, and you'll find a way to pry it open. When an obstacle hinders your progress, you can either jump over it or just bulldoze through the damn thing. Or maybe both at the same time if you happen to hail from Krypton. In that case, God bless you.

We are an eclectically mixed up race of borrowed blood and borrowed cultures. I don't find anything wrong in that, nor do I have any problem with it at all. There is hardly any originality in today's world anyway, so why bother fighting a losing battle? The problem is that we are afraid of admitting the truth. For whatever stupid, stupid reasons.

We are sick and dying, and we need help. We've been drugged with complacency and childish tendencies. We are drunk with over indulgence and unnecessary pampering. We need a fucking 12-step program. We need to admit that there is a problem, seek help, engage in self-examination, make amends, help ourselves and our fellow brothers and sisters. We have to do something before our beloved pseudo ABC campur race takes a backseat and one day be something worthy of being forgotten.

This is my way of doing something, anything. With this ridiculously expensive computer I bought with daddy's money, I type out my shamelessly borrowed thoughts and borrowed unoriginal ideas and borrowed cold hard facts, hit enter, and send it warping at light speed to cyberspace with the godsend help of TMNet Streamyx, the world's most screwed up and completely unreliable internet service provider. Through sheer chance or perhaps magic, it appeared on your screen. With hopes that it maybe, just maybe, cause a twitch. A prick. A hard on. An epiphany. A ripple. Something. Anything. This is my plea. To stop being stupid. To stop being ignorant. And fucking wake up.

"God grant me the serenity, to accept the things I can't change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference" - Serenity Prayer, NA.

p/s: I originally wanted to write a dedication to a few "stupid and ignorant" acquaintances who have been irritating the wits out of me, albeit from afar. But irritating, nonetheless. So basically that original intention was lost after the second paragraph. I think I meandered a bit. Just a little bit. A teeny weeny bit.

2:50 AM
Categories: anthropology, bumiputera, culture, history, ignorance, malay, malaysia, NA, narcotics anonymous, national economic plan, NEP, politics, prayer, race, rant, serenity, stupidtiy, thoughts, zeitgeist. Author: sleepwalker

Giovanna is an idiot.

Even Antonio, her fellow Itallian, can't stand her. Fira wants to punch her face in and Ina wants to kick her out of the house.

I've a feeling Giovanna is an Aries. Stubborn, argumentative, strong willed, and somewhat entertaining. She can be funny sometimes, but most of the time she's just plain nasty. She's a selfish demanding diva who does whatever the hell she wants whenever she wants without care nor regard for anyone around her. Apparently simple courtesy doesn't exist in her dictionary. Though among all of her utmost "admirable" qualities, the biggest one is definitely her inability to respond to common sense. How do you deal with someone who constantly complains about everything under the sun and insults your country, people, weather, food, architecture, culture, traditions and religion? How do possibly argue with a Roman Catholic who says things like "Nobody in Italy reads the Bible, it's only there for show". Even Zakir Naik would eventually give up arguing with her. Ahmadeedat? He'd just stab her to death with blunt chopsticks.

Honestly, I love dealing with difficult characters. I enjoy the conflict and the endless debates. People like Giovanna are like old, grumpy, sexually abused Persian cats. Nothing in the world can possibly please them. They're almost never not angry. They're picky and demanding. They hiss at you when they don't get what they want. They're zenophobic. They live alone and eventually, probably, die alone.

But of course, it's not easy being an unattractive sexually repressed 30 year-old mat salleh female in a local government university. Especially when you go to class wearing a white singlet with no bra on.

Tip: If you don't want to die a lonely old spinster (with no cats, because they hate you so much they'd drown themselves in the washing machine), try not to be a hard headed nihilist cynic who complains about everything because you're too perfect. Also, when you're doing your Masters don't major in Stupidity. It really doesn't help when you're ugly, stupid and hateful. Definitely not a winning combo.

3:01 AM
Categories: cynic, friends, ignorance, itallian, malaysia, non-fiction, rant, stories, stupidity. Author: sleepwalker

It's easy to rally against someone when you don't even know half of the true story. Isn't it foolish to rage and rant over something you don't even know half of what is really going on? Like a child scolding the fire because it burnt his hand. Like a cat hissing at the glass door because it ran into it. Like an idiot leading the blind.

Assumptions are such easy things. Such convenient tools to manipulate to our own likings, to our own wants, to our own simple desires. For want of being right. For want of being the victim. Isn't it easy being a victim? All you need is to assume fictionalized stories, imagine stupendously mad scenarios, cry foul, and roll all over the floor. And of course everyone else would rally behind you, irregardless of the truth. Because in the end of the day we're all humans, no? And humans are sometimes stupid, no?

Some people forget that in the end of the day, we're all humans. If you're looking for perfection, if you're looking to be right every single time, if you're looking for a permanent shelter to all your tears and sorrows, you're looking at all the wrong places. Perfection doesn't exist, just a modest reminder. It's most unfortunate that we would always look at all the things gone wrong rather than everything else that have gone right.

You climb a thousand stairs, miss a step and come tumbling down a thousand steps to the ground. What would most people rather pay attention to? Well, why would they care for that thousand steps you took? Why would they care for all the right things you did, for all the effort you put in, for everything you did to do your very best? They would only care that you faltered. That you came crashing down, breaking every bone in your body, burnt to crisp. And there they are, standing tall with their self-righteous smiles, pissing on your ashes. Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside out.

Isn't it convenient to be selfish? Isn't it convenient to forget that maybe, just maybe, the rest of us are going through our own hell? That sometimes certain things aren't meant to be spoken. For reasons that can't even be uttered to begin with. And maybe, just maybe, in a matter of time it will be spoken of. In the end of the day, we're all strangers. It's just a matter of to what degree, to what extent. You may know yourself, but maybe not entirely yet. You may know your friends, but maybe, no, most definitely, not entirely. We're all strangers. This is life. This is the real world. Deal with it.

Lies, lies, lies.
There's only so much I can take.
One day, sooner or later, I'll break.

8:02 PM
Categories: foes, friends, ignorance, immaturity, lies, people, rant, stupidity, thoughts. Author: sleepwalker