Carpe Diem?

I'm tired...

In between meetings and phonecalls, the constant rush of issues, thought and solution. In between trying to bridge gaps between experience and demand... I found myself falling, I'm being afraid again, afraid of change and afraid to make effort, in fact I'm afraid for the sake of being afraid.

It's always been this way, it's nothing new...an epic battle to dare one's self into doing something. One thinks, tergiversate and pulls back. An act of cowardice, unwillingness and inertia. To slice off the branch holding the rest down, oh woe onto one who's branches holds back. To deny one's self at a chance of emminence.

a capite ad calcem- from head to heel

I tremble... wary of the future, timidity in my soul deserting my brothers, treason to the throne.

ad infinitium- toward infinity

For men can push himselves to the brink of bodily possibility, why can't I?

There's only one way from here... Up. All I got to do now is to try and decide.

-one lazy sunday afternoon-

The Road Not Taken- Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference

His fuzziness

Listening to: Believe, Smashing Pumpkins
Thinking of:

Barkley, a yellow Labrador born on 23 December was always a happy dog. His antiques thrilled the household with his display of crude but stylish canine brand of charm, wit and ability.

A keen connoisseur of treats and nibbles, he had a selection of vintage favorites. Never one to be seen with a dirty paw near his food, he's developed a fine habit of washing his paws and slicking back his fuzz after a walk. A lounge in the garden or by the bowl side before dinner suited him fine, a fine aperitif in the form of water never leaves his side.

He oozes style for the way he carries himself, prosperous yet eager for walks. Each evening he'd summon his servants for a walk around the kingdom of Barkley, shameless coveting and marking his territory, fending it away from his enemies... ie. other dogs, monkeys and his nemesis... CATS! An eager sportsdog, he chases the latter for sport, his triumphs include the quick coconut tree climb (at the Nambiars), under the car chase, and the classic, "Jump into the drain pursuit". His affinity for great sports as such is displayed in competitive nature by several sniffs, and sand kicking. Never at any time during this, is any of his servants allowed ahead of him. He has to be the head of his entourage.

A well schooled puppy, in the arts of social etiquette, he was thought at the great fields of Jalan 222. Exhibiting the graciousness of his fuzziness, he's made friends with his other puppy friends and exchanging sniffs at most appropriate of times. His courageousness was identified earlier on, taking on an evil Rottweiler with a swipe on the nose at a gentle age of 6 months, or so. Taking him there is his fleet of cars and SUVS.

But in all seriousness, Barkley was the most genial dog, a great companion in many many ways and a born entertainer. I remember picking him up from the kennel the first time and knowing I had to have this puppy full of mischief. As it turns out, I actually made the right choice. Ever curious and so silly in his escapades,he's found favor among the folk along my end of the street and friends and family. One who is gregarious, yet displays a classic "the grass is greener on the other side" character, always wanting what he cannot have. I'm immensely proud of him, for he's shown so much strength and courage fighting for so many months, and honored that he'd grace me with a little bit more than a wag even in his most painful hours. I will remember his intelligence, washing his paws after digging through the flower patch, only forgetting about his nose. Renovating his kennel by himself, a whole basement in fact! It'll be so quiet without you. Walking past any window, door or fence would now be so quiet and uncharacteristic. No more can I sit down on the grass, reading the newspaper after taking you for your morning walks, with you of course insisting that you want the comics section, slobbering all over it. No more can I spoil you with treats and toys. When I'm feeling blue, no more do I have a friend who'd still think he's a puppy insisting on sitting on my lap, the fuzziness in itself calming. I can't chase you around the garden trying to get the wayward sock out of you. Or have you wash the lower parts of my car for me. I'll miss chasing cats with you and your giant smile during walks, your competitiveness to be ahead of all else. I'll miss how you're afraid of lightning. I'll miss the time how you got your first ball, barking at it, amused. Or the first day you stepped into our lives jumping over the side drain, being amused just by it. You learnt so much so fast, how to open the fence latch, turn on taps and most importantly, tactics to get more treats. Dare I say I love you fuzzy buddy, I'm sorry I can't make it back in time, I really am. I miss giving you a hug and giving you rub downs, I believe it's more therapeutic for me than it was for you. Thank you for all the moments and memories, thanks for being you... you fought hard and brave, a valiant run. It's a pity it had to be you... goodbye fuzzy buddy. I miss you so.

This Flight

As we ascend, leaving the Klang valley behind. This common flight seems less ordinary every minute.

25 minutes after departure: A young lady bearing the name Aida an air stewardess gets a drink for yours truly and the passengers around. As she entertains the request of 2 others, a battery of mandarin escapes her lips which lit up ones’ eyes as she carries a very Malay last name.

Aida: Tall but petite lady with a nicely tied up bun of hair behind, slightly off tangent from her delicately made up look. After being told to take out my table for my laptop, and she insisting, I gathered that she’s from Kuantan, the same town as both my parents. Short verbal exchanged ensues and I shrink back into my shell by apologizing for taking up her time.

She’s got the cutest smile, and incredibly engaging eyes. She is endowed with a small face, complemented by a very delicate set of features, pretty to say the least.

2 gents on my right: Obviously well educated, one at least educated in England from a young age, read accounting and finance whilst in University and running his own business. Speaks to his counterpart of days gone of British politics, art, morality and of course, his son’s obsession with the Playstation.

The former gentleman spoke of a time when he supported his siblings to study abroad when his parents passed on. Something I truly admire and the reason I started writing this. His demeanor is casual, his words friendly but authoritative. My guess would be he’s in his mid-40s, a successful man yet humble and unassuming. He looks forward during conversation, giving his audience attention. In this case, full attention. Another 30 minutes pasts, he obviously can’t drink.

The other, a listener and a contributor. Possibly assisting the business of the other and seems to be in agreement of the former. His posture is relaxed in his seat, his legs crossed and clad in an extremely bright shade of yellow, suggesting he’s an engineer or a business man. Don’t ask why, it’s a stereotype I keep in my mind, probably influenced by people around while I was growing up. A contributor, as mentioned earlier… his conversation scope covers what seems to be mutual acquaintances with the other gentleman.

Plagiarism

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,

And spills the upper boulders in the sun;

And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.

The work of hunters is another thing:

I have come after them and made repair

Where they have left not one stone on a stone,

But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,

To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,

No one has seen them made or heard them made,

But at spring mending-time we find them there.

I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;

And on a day we meet to walk the line

And set the wall between us once again.

We keep the wall between us as we go.

To each the boulders that have fallen to each.

And some are loaves and some so nearly balls

We have to use a spell to make them balance:

'Stay where you are until our backs are turned!'

We wear our fingers rough with handling them.

Oh, just another kind of outdoor game,

One on a side. It comes to little more:

There where it is we do not need the wall:

He is all pine and I am apple orchard.

My apple trees will never get across

And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.

He only says, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'

Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder

If I could put a notion in his head:

'Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it

Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know

What I was walling in or walling out,

And to whom I was like to give offense.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That wants it down.' I could say 'Elves' to him,

But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather

He said it for himself. I see him there

Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top

In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.

He moves in darkness as it seems to me,

Not of woods only and the shade of trees.

He will not go behind his father's saying,

And he likes having thought of it so well

He says again, 'Good fences make good neighbors.'