Xanthophobia and a "Dirty" Hashtag

Whilst the mainstream media is silent over (except to bemire) the BERSIH 2.0 rally, the World Wide Web is abuzz with news and updates on the rally planned for July 9. I no longer have a Facebook account but it seems that the rally’s gained a lot of support; more so after the police began arresting people linked to it.

On Twitter (at least on my update page), the hashtag #bersih appear every 10 minutes or so and looking up the tag updates on Google gave me a hearty laugh. Apparently, everyone has become more aware of what BERSIH is. Even if they don’t, they love poking fun at the way the police handles the situation. That’s because the rally’s T-shirt and anything yellow is considered illegal because they “promote” the rally and “incite” the people to join in.

Here are some that I managed to copy (I didn't go through every post to check for errors) but I must admit that #Egypt gets new post every few seconds:

Yellow Post-It notes will be confiscated on sight. Other colours may be allowed

Bumblebee told 2 lose his colours or "action will be taken within confines of the law."

Publishers & Print designers forced to work with C M K, as Y (Yellow) has been banned.

Lagu hit Coldplay "Yellow" diisytihar haram kerana mempunyai element subversif

[Coldplay’s hit song, Yellow, contained subversive elements and has been declared illegal]

Steve Jobs admitted that #Bersih is the main reason why Apple did not push for a yellow iPhone!

Digi (telco service provider) phone coverage will go down for a day or two because (sic) yellow man (Digi’s mascot) will get arrested for sedition

Saw a group of policemen at the fruits section. Apparently the lemons are under arrest for being yellow

Even the yellow lines on the side of the road in front of my office has (sic) been changed to the colour white

Mother bought unripened bananas yesterday. We’re so worried when they turned yellow this morning

Everyone from Rumah Kuning (literally Yellow House, a grouping based on colour) cannot go for Pendidikan Jasmani (Physical Education)

Ah bengs who like to dye their hair yellow are going be in trouble

Sometimes, our absurdity knows no bound. I suppose everyone else in the world is having a good time reading about it in the papers. At least many now knows what Article 10 of the Federal Constitution is all about. If you'd prefer something else, might I suggest to you the Universal Declaration of Human Rights?

“IS BERSIH A DIRTY WORD?”

More Pakatan lawmakers nabbed for Bersih links

Experts: Bersih T-shirts NOT illegal

 

This is Me: Take 4

Having typed so much about what some might call ‘strengths’, I’m not above reproach. Not at all. There are things that I’m not particularly proud of. If we’d just flip the coin over, then we’d see that my sensitivity at times borders on anaphylaxis i.e. hypersensitivity.

Point to note: I’m not led by my over-sensitive nature when I’m talking about the rich.

People tell me that I think too much. And that I’m reading too much into another person’s words or actions. There’s some truth in that since what I think might not be accurate, if not false altogether. At times, I mistook a joke for a criticism. Like when I said I’m fond of little girls and that I hope my first child to be a girl or that a small girl is adorable, I get that yikes-you’re-a-pedophile look. It’s depressing but perhaps, like I said, I misunderstood banter for an attack.

The creative portion of my brain may be a weakness too. That, together with oversensitivity, contributes a considerable amount of daydreaming. As an example, imagine the despair of a dreamer thinking he’s in love and that the feeling is mutual only to have reality shatter the reverie. Whilst I can understand puppy love and crushes, I’m not alluding to those.

Remember I said my peers are sometimes a bane too? I only have myself to blame. At times, I do make comparisons. Never mind if people say we compare to better ourselves. I don’t really buy that since there’ll always be people better. It’ll work until we run out of steam and when that happens, we’d feel inadequate. I know I would. I guess I have to constantly remind myself when it’s time to stop comparing.

I’m not the lazy type but I think laid-back would be apt here. I do get work done but sometimes it’s the last minute rush though the quality would be on par with my other tasks. So, not so much of a self-castigation here. Still, I find myself to procrastinate a lot.

The most obvious readily seen trait will have be my impatience. Mostly, it's got to do with people and my dealings with them. I dislike repeating myself and somehow I get really frustrated to the point of blowing my top. Once or twice and it's fine. I'd try and distill my message so it gets as simple as it possibly could. Alas, not everybody understands or else, I wouldn't have included this paragraph. Maybe, if I could be a wee bit more accommodating? I don't know. If I don't get the results I've come to expect, after waiting for some time of course, then I'd pack up and leave.

Both sides of the same coins and both giving the same value that it’s worth. That is if value can be measured simply by reading what I’ve written about my strengths and weaknesses. But it ain’t that simple right? It’s only after months if not years of knowing someone that we can truly appraise them for what they are.

All in all, I’m Julian. This is me.

 

This is Me: Take 3

Somehow, I have asked myself one theoretical question: Will I commit myself to a romantic relationship with a rich girl? Ok, I skipped the part about falling in love but I think falling in love isn’t that big a deal considering what comes after that is the crux of the matter. So, will I?

The easiest answer I’d come up with is that it depends. I mean how many would and could leave their featherbedded life? Often, they’d say they don’t mind as long as... See? There’s always a condition or two. And I’m totally fine with that. As long as the guy has a good, stable job and that he loves her. Love always comes last. What constitutes good and stable? A full-time operator at a, say, car assembly plant? I think they miss out one very crucial line: a job that is able let us live a comfortable life. Which begs the question, what will make life together comfortable? Good food? Expensive apparels?

It appears that it’s not easy to find someone with simple expectations, especially when they’re fortunate enough to be born on a silver platter. To have to slog so hard and to make something work purely to finance her lifestyle would not be worth it. Many well-off gentlemen could have done effortlessly. If it’s a romantic relationship, I’d opt for someone simple; if I may, a peasant girl with a simple outlook on life than a dame with outlandish desires.

Remember the post JRL: Stereotyping A Rich Kid?

 

This is Me: Take 2

That brings me to modesty, generosity, and aversion to rich people. Hold your horses. I didn’t say I dislike all the affluent people out there. If it were so, I’d be a sour grape. When I say modest, I’m not restricting myself to one meal a day. I’m modest, not a miser. I’m unwilling to spend a few hundred bucks to get a brace put on my tooth just so my incisor gets pushed a few millimeters inwards. If you don’t already know, I fell and chipped both my [central] maxillary incisors. Somehow, over the years one decided to grow outwards. I do go out for some nice food sometimes and some of the amount goes to some old man at the market.

I remember once when two kind souls offered to support me financially.

“How am I going to repay the both of you?”

“You don’t. When the time comes, do it for another person”, was the reply. I declined the offer. But I truly appreciate the thought.

It’s the same person who lent me a Biology reference book. Something that proved very useful given the fact that I don’t go for extra classes like my friends, or own a few reference books like some snob in school. I tell myself to show such level of compassion, and more, to others in need.

My aversion to rich people? How is it justified? It’s just my simple observation that those in the position to do/change things aren’t doing a dang thing. It’s always the middle-class people who gave the most (if you consider the percentage). And it’s always the same group of people you see in the papers. Well, you do see the rich people too; in a totally different settings. Handing out mock cheque dressed in their best; always inside some glitzy ballroom complete with cocktails, finger foods, and the press. I don’t care very much about all this I’m-richer-than-you affair but it pisses me to see these people flex their wealthy muscle and make the inferior ones do their bidding.

Once whilst on my way back from backpacking to Vietnam, I see this bunch of family kicking up a ruckus at the check-in counter. Well dressed, watches, branded luggage, and the unmistakable swagger. They were raising their voice at the Vietnamese officers in green for reasons only they knew. My guess? Seeing the amount of stuff they had then, I think they were unhappy at being stopped. The matriarch of the family was making her point, and she did it well, in a loud voice and flailing her arms about. And then turn to her husband uttering in Cantonese. Such insolence! I mean, it doesn’t kill you to be polite. And rules are rules, ma’am. The guys in green maintained their composure and tried explaining, only to get Dragon Lady into another tirade. During my time there, the people of Vietnam are to me a humble lot. Quiet. Hardworking. Polite. From the staffs in the bank to the mother and child in Ben Thanh Market. Need I say more?

There are always complaints from these people. Not that they should keep quiet all the time. I myself couldn’t stand bureaucracy too. But some things can’t be helped. Just live with it. And be understanding. You don’t start cussing if your chicken isn’t served in 3 minutes after you’ve placed your orders. When it’s served in the fourth minute, at your demand, you start cussing because it’s pink.

On my many blog hopping trips, I’ve come across both likeable and slap-able people; each on different ends of the divide. On one hand you have some thankful people and on the other you have some people who love partying and complain when things don’t go their way. All are fortunate enough to further their studies abroad.

I’d go on and on but I suppose you understand now, how touchy I can get with this group of people.

 

This is Me: Take 1

Today, I set up my stall at the intersection of Reminisce Road and Appraise Avenue. For some unknown reasons, I walked past my usual haunt right in the middle of Reminisce.

All this time, I regaled my friends with stories of school, of childhood, and a little on what growing up was like at home. Whilst experience shapes a person, I couldn’t attribute everything about me directly to it. So, what am I like, really – with or without experience in the equation?

Peaches playing in the background.

Let’s start with music. Something I appreciate (composition and talents) yet deaf when it comes to making music. I guess I’m more inclined to studying the words and meaning of a song together with the mood set by the melodies. Preference-wise, I’m nearly an all-inclusive but it very much depends on my ears. If I say I’m into slower, relaxing ones, I have many power ballads scattered among my playlists. Heck, I even enjoy Green Day!

I remembered being called “old” for my choice of music and the radio station I tune in to every time I drive. So I suppose you get what I meant. This leads nicely to my first persona. Note: I didn’t just grab these adjectives out of the hat. It’s what I’ve been told and affirmed time and again. I’m quite the sensitive type. Sentimental too. I don’t call every person I meet as friends (they are in a non-hostile manner), and my circle of friends are important to me. They’re people I cherish, care deeply for, and the same whom I’d go two miles with, and back. I’d think for them and take into consideration their feelings before springing to action. Farfetched you say?

Math isn’t my favourite subject in school. And I take great joy in writing, both for English and Malay subject. It's an avenue where I'd be able to put down my thoughts, on a piece of paper I may add, but usually in an indirect manner. I'd use a different settings and situations to represent the subject matter. Other times, I'd just put them in a poem. And one thing I've found out about conveying my thoughts this way is that I don't have to see the reader's expressions. I wonder to myself, what causes this cowardice?

Naturally (?), writing also means that I’d bury myself in books to explore the different styles people employ in their work; which was exactly what I did. To digress a little, the flair for writing comes with the willingness to write and some hard work thrown into it too. Over time, I realized I enjoyed history very much; particularly war histories. I’ve always known that history favours the victors and I’ve made it my aim to always turn the coin both sides. As an undergraduate when my peers registered for Management courses, something realistic I may add, I find myself drawn to Archaeology and spent so much time for a semester writing about life in the Angkorian era of Cambodia. It’s a wonder why I studied Entomology (to fill up credit hour requirements) instead of something that’d complement my major, Microbiology. Peculiar?

Speaking of peers, they’re a source of encouragement and other times the bane of my youth. *laughs* Growing up, we’re an impressionable bunch, no? I remember the time when I was brooding over the fact that I couldn’t own a football (or soccer, whichever you prefer) boot (or again, cleat, if you prefer) to play with the bunch of kids in school. So, I settled for street soccer and in the process wearing out my school shoes quicker than my parents would say “Ronaldo”. That’s one of many things that I couldn’t have dreamt of given the circumstances. Not that we’re living below the poverty line but let’s just say that my parents aren’t like the blue guy who lives in a lamp.

 

This is Me

It all started with the aim of creating a simple post tackling the oft-asked question in interviews: tell me about yourself. I thought I’d write a little about myself. By the time I’ve finished writing my strengths and weaknesses, I’ve nearly reached the 2000-word mark.

So what I’d do is to try breaking them up into big chunks — but still small enough to be taken in comfortably — yet remain meaningful and cohesive.

I’ll set Blogger to post them automatically at a 12 hour interval.

You might find me rambling on and on like a madman but do bear with me. Enjoy!

I’m Julian. This is me.

 

Mile Marker 418: Open Houses

I’ve officially finished my work at the lab and achieved all the project milestones. Until the day I obtained the scroll, I can never be totally free. I still have to go back almost daily to do some [culture] maintenance, cleaning up, and a small but tedious errand – cloning a gene into an expression vector and possible induction of the vector to overproduce a protein which will then lead me to the verification of the protein via SDS-PAGE. ‘Small’ and ‘tedious’ appear to be a gross understatement. It’s a goodwill gesture to my supervisor and something that I’ll give my best to do it.

One a much happier note, I’m looking forward to visiting Firdaus’ family orchard next Tuesday. Fruits! It’d be great if we’d repeat last year’s trip when Kak Mimi and the Kuala Lumpur branch (the Penang 418 being the HQ) members were there.

So, as this topic nears its last stop, I’m posting pictures of the open houses by Kak Mimi, Kitha and Firdaus. Over the years, we’ve stuffed ourselves under the roofs of these gracious host, cut birthday cakes, and fool around in true kampung spirit. But most importantly, we visit one another to celebrate our differences – the Eid, Deepavali and Chinese New Year (I’m not sure who has the pictures of CNY open house). Who’d forget rendang? Or briyani and chapati? Or mandarin oranges, satay, and noodle (sorry, pork wasn’t on the menu as it’s not halal)? And oh, the day out in Taiping Zoo after Kitha's Deepavali open house.

As we hear (again) of racist remarks by some of the most intolerant of people in the country, I take comfort in that the spirit of muhibbah is very much alive as far as we are concerned. Still, I don’t deny that the relationship among the different races took some beating; no thanks to a few bigots frothing at their mouths spewing venom. Wonder why we’re Malay, Chinese, Indians and Others here but Malaysians in the rest of the world.

Someone posted this on Facebook with the same caption. I'll leave it in its original language as I find it funnier that way. No, we weren't fighting.

Julian: pisang tu kat rumah saya.Curi-curi ambik pi goreng, ingat I tak nampak???
Mimi: Itu pisang kami yg beli la..
Kitha: Eh...jadi tak jadi makan lah??