Wednesday, May 26, 2004


Amongst other string of definitions, the Malay word saguhati is best used to describe today's blog.

They say that even if you don't win first prize, there'll be at least a consolation prize. Consoling is pacifying. For all the time and energy wasted focusing om something, anything un-particular. And it's hard when you failed to achieve what you want on a race/test. You either blame everybody or nobody at all. You simmer and then slide into deep thought like my kind brother does when he rides the train. (see pic)

This person that I know called me earlier today just for the sake of attempting to obliterate my eardrums in close quarters of a vessel's engine room, where he was working at that point of time. Curses! Curses! He began by telling me how he failed the driving test he took this morning. I feel for the guy. I mean, taking up for a driving license here in Singapore could possibly cause you to mortgage your property!
And so he goes on, nevermind the fact that I've placed a tissue paper betwixt my delicate eardrums & the piercing outcry of the cellphone's speaker, about how a motorist from across the causeway led him to experience a near-accident. Of course it wasn't his fault. How else was he to respond if the motorist happened to be a borne idiot, whose ignorance over his crucial driving test might set off a chain reaction of spatial disasters that could very well result in my friend's failure to obtain a driving license! Sheesh! What was that motorists thinking?? If it were my bro(the one in the pic), someone would've been sent off to emergency room for multiple head fracture.

Anyway, after the cele-conversation with my friend, I began to pray that he'll do fine in his next test. Then I got a SMS from him informing me that he aced his school exams. So, his failure for one test brought success of another. It became a saguhati. Literally saguhati means an antidote.
So now, everything's okay! You know, I did propose a rather generous offer which he refused out of good kinship-three thousand bucks for that license and he don't even have to drive the damn car! Oh well...

Monday, May 24, 2004


Born in the outskirts of Kyoto, nothing is really known about Aoshi's natural family. He was raised by the Onibawan - a clan of Ninja assasins. Trained in the mystic arts of ninjitsu and various martial arts, Aoshi was a master swordsman by the time he reached the age of 15. It was suspected that he killed the Onibawan's leader to assume leadership and change the direction of the Onibawan.

However, he raised the heiress of Onibawan like his own sister. Perhaps, to return the gratitude of the Onibawan clan for raising him. Aoshi surrounded himself with loyal comrades, whom all died protecting him in a battle with Kenshin.

As Aoshi went through life, he became obsessed with the idea of being the perfect swordsman. He killed many warriors and master swordsmen to hone his level of swordmanship. In his pursuit for perfection, Aoshi lost his soul. Even more when he found out that his four beloved comrades died, after regaining consciousness, defeated by Kenshin the Hitokiri Battousai.

He disappeared, nursing his wounds of wounded ego. Training, viciously vowing that he will kill the Hitokiri Battousai. He assumed that Kenshin had caused the death of his extended family. And he fueled his life thereon with hate and rage, although deep inside he knows that he was ultimately resposible for the death of his friends. He knew his fault but his ego blinded him beyond reason. Little did he realize that he was very close in defeating Kenshin in a swordfight. The only reason he lost was that he had no clear reason for fighting Kenshin. He fought on emotions, on what he felt was right to him. Other people did not matter to him anymore. On the other hand, Kenshin fought to protect Aoshi from killing himself and other people he cared about.

Saturday, May 22, 2004


Every step is a leap. For I am the undying in a dying dream. Because if I fall, everything else just...cease. I was betrayed by my own and liberated by myself. I braved further on, trying hard not to fall. I always fall though. I always hurt myself. And in that is not my weakness but my strength. Whether it is enough? I do not know. I don't know everything. But you people do. Some of you smirk while others blatantly laugh out in my humiliation.
When I just scratch my head and stand up, dusting off imputities; I'm cleaner now. And I know. That's enough.