Realm of a fantasy author, freelance writer, and the official Koeck clan scribe
Precisely for posts like this:
http://ikawrites.wordpress.com/2011/10/12/girl-talk/
Having re-read that just shattered another glass box for me. One of those a-HA-oh-dear-god-what-am-I-doing?! moments.
I’ll explain more when I have the time 
But trust me, a record like this one is great in helping keep a girl on her toes. Phew.
Day 1: Woke up on a cart with a headache the size of a watermelon. Smelled something bad. Found myself staring at three ugly looking Nords sitting on the cart with me. Found out that they were prisoners, like I was. Tried to tell the guards earlier that I was an expert in wealth distribution, specializing in the import of goods. They didn’t believe me. Sheesh. Note to self: Imperial guards aren’t stupid.
The hairless apes wouldn’t stop yapping. Talking about Imperials, and Stormcloaks and something about shouting at one another. What does a khajiit have to do to get a catnap around here?
The cart stopped at a quaint little hamlet. There’s greenery everywhere. Not like the deserts and dunes of Elseweyr. We were told to get down from the cart, and the guards asked me why I was there and said there must’ve been a mixup. Gee, Captain Obvious, you think? I didn’t realize how much trouble I was in until they started chopping people’s heads off. Eeep! I swear, I didn’t steal anything….much! Heard a weird sound in the sky. Not sure what it was. Didn’t care what it was. They were going to chop my head off!
Thought I was going to die. They put me on the chopping block right after that rebel they said was a brave man. Well, life’s been good. My mom always told me I was too greedy for my own good. Could never get my itchy little paws away from all those shiny valuab…. HOLY SHIT THERE’S A DRAGON ON THE ROO -!
Well hello, blog! It’s been a while.
You might be wondering why I haven’t been here. Apart from my full work schedule, there have been a few setbacks with my general well being. I’ll let the picture do all the talking.
What began as this:
Insert scream of horror right here...
Turned into this:
Insert more screams of horror here
It didn’t help that the doctor couldn’t figure out what happened. I honestly thought that it was a bug bite. It wasn’t until my third consultation with a third doctor that he diagnosed me with the shingles.
As you can probably guess, that kept me house-bound for nearly a week. I missed the endurance race that I was looking forward to seeing/participate in, and basically missed my good friend’s wedding as well.
Regardless, I was running around at work settling important things. Three weeks later, I’m left with a scar, and thankfully, not nearly as many things piled up as I initially thought.
BUT, it’s not as bad as you think. While I was down and out for most of the time, it did get my work/writing gear going and had a lot of writing done.
Plus there’s also this:
Doodley!
Errr…Ignore the speech bubble, but yes, another episode of Cannonade should be forthcoming, if I can get my act together.
So there you go. Updates 
There will be more soon!
Ps: The shingles hurt like hell T_T
Riding is a dangerous activity. That’s a given.
As riders, when we decide to get on that horse, we know that there is a certain amount of risk involved. Falling, getting bucked off, getting thrown off, although highly undesirable, come hand in hand with riding. We’re taught to always be prepared for the unexpected, to always mind our posture/balance and our contact with our horses, and above all, be very very careful when riding.
Still, you can never truly tell what would happen when you’re out riding. Today, we were riding outside the arena, mostly to practice for the endurance race, but otherwise, just for fun and to let loose a little. This was what happened:
I had already been riding BJ for nearly an hour at the time with one of my riding partners, Kak Safura (Riding Gray). At one point I saw Kak Lyn (Riding Expresso) and the others just ahead of me, so I went ahead to join them. Here’s the sequence of what happened during the incident, and HOW it happened, to my recollection. Ladies and fellow riders, if you saw a different view, feel free to comment. This was just what I saw.
1. We were riding past an area built for kids. It’s a penned area, behind translucent barriers, and had a trampoline/play area in it. It’s located right next to the road where we ride our horses. In normal circumstances, that stretch of road would be one of our canter spots. So the horses, being used to the idea, were ready for the canter even before we were, I reckon.
2. We were just passing the play area, and the horses up front with Kak Lily, Kak Lyn, and Sil, our trainer, have already started to canter (there was another horse and rider, but I can’t remember who). Seeing the horses in front cantering, Space U and her rider, Anis, and BJ and myself followed.
3. I heard someone scream (I was told later that it came from the play area), and the next thing I know, I saw Space U buck. That one unexpected move threw Anis off the saddle, and she tumbled to the ground within seconds. To my horror, she fell directly in front of us. And BJ was already in canter.
4. I pulled the reins left and shouted, sitting back, trying to slow BJ down and swerve him at the same time. The only thought flashing through my mind then was that if I didn’t turn BJ fast enough, we’re going to run into this girl, and God knows what would happen then. Thankfully, BJ was a very calm horse, and as soon as he saw the girl tumbling in front of us and felt me pull, he swerved.
Shouts of alarm erupted from all over. I lifted my eyes from the ground and saw Kak Lyn rolling under Expresso (who was also startled by the noise), a massive 19h black ex-Dressage horse. Expresso, by instinct and good sense, had kicked his back leg just in time to avoid stepping on Kak Lyn, and thanks to that horse, she wasn’t hurt bad.
Anis, however, was a different story.
I pulled BJ to the side and dismounted as quickly as I could, and held onto BJ’s reins while Space U, now frightened, galloped madly (you could see the whites of his eyes…the poor guy was so terrified) back to where we were all huddled together. Startled horses were tossing their heads back, kicking, snorting. People were shouting, crying out, and several kind folks came out of the surrounding areas to help us with our horses and see to Anis.
During the whole commotion I held onto BJ’s reins and stroked his nose, trying to calm him down. Which was pretty moot. He was calmer than ever, and more interested in the grass at my feet than anything. I saw Kak Lyn on the ground, already sitting up. She had friends to help her up and seemed alright. When I looked back over my shoulder, I saw Anis lying prone on the ground, crying.
I don’t know the extent of her injuries, but I was told that a lot of blood was involved. A stretcher was called for, and Anis had to be carried out of the riding school, to the hospital. The trainers managed to catch Space U at some point. He was terrified, but otherwise okay.
You can’t imagine the relief I felt to have swerved in time, and the horror of realizing what a close call it was. In the midst of all the hubbub BJ proceeded to chew grass, and ended up being the source of comfort for ME, instead of the other way around. When we all walked back to the stable, he kept turning his head towards me, a quizzical look on his face, chewing a mouthful of grass as if to say “What’s bothering you? I’m hungry.” I am very glad to have ridden him when the incident happened. Nothing fazes him, and a fellow rider, who favours BJ as well, confirmed this with me when we were back at the stable.
Whatever the case may be, riding is dangerous. I’m not going to sugar-coat it and tell you that it’s a safe sport; that falls like this are rare. Fact of the matter is, we’ve always been taught to be prepared, and I hope to God that if an incident like this happens again, I’ll be on a calm horse like ol’ Jimbo.
I hope Anis recovers soon, and I am very grateful Kak Lyn didn’t get stepped on by Expresso when she fell over. It was amazing to see the lengths that horse took to avoid hurting her. Flicka kept his rider, Kak Lily on him as well, refusing to let her dismount just so he could keep her safe when Space U was galloping around us.
Yep, riding is dangerous. But one of the things I’ve learned today is that horses are just wonderful partners when they decide to be. And on that note, I owe BJ some treats and snorgles
Slainte, folks.
My mom gave me three new journals yesterday, which was really sweet of her. One can never have too many journals Not in this trade.
Thing is, I haven’t had a proper journal in a couple of years – The last one being solely dedicated to Path of Defiance and notes for my short stories. During my corporate communication days, I used to used to store notes in my phone (more convenient in the lrt), a habit which has continued until now. My mom’s gift prompted me to dig out my old notes, and well, I thought I’d share some of them with you guys Here is the collection. There used to be a whole lot more, but these were all I could find last night.
Voila, the journals and sketch book
This was on the first page of my first serious writing journal
A Christmas gift from my friend, Rachel, in 2004
The second picture is of a journal given to me by my friend, Rachel, for Christmas 2004. It had a beautiful velvet cover, with the picture of Gaia on it. Very beautiful book, and one I carried everywhere. Unfortunately, the cover was torn off from hard use (my bad). Sorry Rach!
One of my favorite features about the journal is this book plate I’ve pasted on the front page, right under Rachel’s sweet handwritten note:
A book plate by Janny Wurts
It was a gift by my mentor, almost 10 years ago now I think, and I thought then that since this is my favorite journal, I would take it with me wherever I went. And I did. The journal now rests on top of my bookshelf, and on occasion, especially on days when I’m feeling down and doubtful about my writing, I’ll take this journal out, read its contents, and remind myself how far I’ve come.
This entry was written at 2.30 in the morning when the muse woke me up. Not a strange occurrence by any means, but it’s one that happened quite a lot back when I was younger. Now the muse just is no longer finicky about timing, which can be useful at times (like when you’re not doing something serious like talking to another person or cantering at top speed on a very fast horse).
One of those times when I jerked awake and scrambled to find my journal, just so i could write what I was thinking then. Notice the "I am so sleepy!" note XD
I did a lot of sketching in between too, just for reference purposes. This was before my doodling days.
One of the many sketches in my book This one was for the protagonist's sword design.
Character study – The wolf who was my protagonist’s guardian/character in Exile’s Gambit, the second version of my novel. I removed him completely in the third version, and I’m writing the fourth now. So far there has been no room for him yet, but this might change. He’s quite the imp!
Character study - Ra'kir
Yes, there were dragons in the previous two versions of my novel. They might make a comeback in the fourth version, with more certainty than the wolf – Because after four years working on this damn thing my brain finally matured enough to figure out what was missing with the whole story and what needed fixing.
Character study - Dragons
And here are some sketches of runes designed for the magic system in the Defiance series. It has been incorporated in the story since the beginning, and it wasn’t until Path of Defiance that it took a form that I could work with without qualms.
Basic ideas for the magic system in the Defiance series
And sometimes, I would need to work out what goes where in the story. A blueprint helps tremendously!
And at times, blueprints are necessary
I try to study a broad range of topics – Especially those that would be mighty handy for the story.
Some notes on saddlery
And last but not least, look what I found in my earliest journal?
Me and horses! Go figure
Okay, I guess horses have always had a special place in my heart. The horse in this picture is unfortunately very underfed and overworked but I was too young back then to know any better. Look at the unadulterated expression of pure glee on my face. I was 7 or 8 in this picture, and the girl riding behind is my aunt. This photo was taken in Bandung, Indonesia.
And oh hey, speaking of horses. If you haven’t seen this, take a look (***Music owned by Squirrel Nut Zippers btw)
Anyway,what do your journals look like?
I’m off to pack for a week long business trip. See you folks when I get back (and hopefully after having a little more sun and fresh air).
Slainte!
A thought occurred to me in the shower just now. It could have been prompted because of the conversation I had with the office cleaning lady about my relationship status. She’s 24, just went through a divorce, and is slowly putting her life back together. So while we were talking she looked me over, asked how old I was, and without missing a beat asked if I was seeing anybody.
“No time. Too much work,” I replied, my fingers creating a symphony of clicks and taps on the keyboard, my hair falling out of place. I have developed the habit of working with two computers at the office (don’t ask me why). So there was a moment of silence while I shifted computers and looked for the file that I needed. I had also hoped that my terse answer would be a cue for her to take her leave (I was really busy), but it wasn’t.
“How can you have too much work? What about marriage? You can’t spend your whole time hunched over the computer chasing after money.”
I didn’t want to spend the next ten minutes giving her a soliloquy about not selling yourself short, finding yourself first, QLC, my back story and my principles. So I shrugged, gave my usual answer – about being married to my work and my passion for writing and enjoying life as it happens. Thankfully, the kind lady walked away, leaving me to my work.
Now, the whole issue should’ve ended there (as it often does), but showers are fascinating in that sense. You never know what your mind would conjure up when you’re scrubbing your hair. I was hoping I’d get a good sense of my characters before diving into the story and really REALLY wanted to sound out the dialogues with them (scowls at muses), but THIS came up instead, and knowing how my brain works, well, here we are…
So, okay, wait, this post isn’t about WHY I’m single. I’ve spoken about my take on relationships before, much earlier in this blog, if I’m not mistaken.
I did like this one guy, and for a time, entertained the notion that he would be someone I could get serious with. We met about two years ago through a mutual friend, and developed a platonic relationship. Two years ago I didn’t know what I wanted to be. Who I was. Agh, let’s not even go there. The short of it is, I liked him enough to keep going out with him, even when it came to the point where I was beginning to feel like I was being strung along (is that even the right way to put it? strung along? Meh, whatever).
The problem with wanting something to happen too much is, you lose your sense of spontaneity, and you end up trying to take control of the things you can’t. The relationship continued to remain platonic while we dined at restaurants, had drinks at our favourite cafes, went out to the movies. Just the two of us. He was a really nice guy. He was single, I was single. We had a lot of things in common. We went out a few times a week. We spoke a lot when we met. Laughed a lot. Joked a lot. Teased each other a lot. We did a lot of fun things. He introduced me to his best friends, his family. He met only one of my friends. We never got around to meet the rest of my friends, somehow. I should have taken that as a sign, but well, being desperate to prove a point back then, I didn’t listen to my instincts.
It truly never occurred to me that well, hey, a guy keeps his options open. Something that I was too naive to actually understand back then. And for my lack of experience (I was too busy working when I was a teenager/throughout my early 20s you see) I couldn’t for the life of me tell the difference between a serious relationship, a casual date, a he’s-not-into-you relationship, and just plain friendship. As far as I could tell, we were having dates. Not a platonic relationship.
It came to the point where my friends started asking me if the guy had tried to make it official with me, and I would say it wasn’t necessary, or no, “maybe he’s just waiting for the right time”. Delusional? Yes. I made up excuses for something I wasn’t even sure of. I didn’t know what I was doing. Episodes of ‘Oh my god, does this guy like me, or doesn’t he? Am I going to be his girlfriend or not? Is he EVER going to ask me to be his girlfriend?’ happened frequently. Something I was totally not used to. I had the mentality of an insecure 17-year-old, trying to win the heart of a boy who just, in the end, wanted to be friends.
If you know who I am, then yes, this would all be…weird. That would be about one of those few times when I flipped out about being single and thought that the only way I could be happy was to be in a relationship. Those few times when I stopped being true to myself and became whatever it was I should be to make a guy like me.
Nothing happened, of course. He never asked or said anything. I never asked or said anything. I never expressed my feelings towards him (feelings that I am very certain now were made based on confusion more than anything). After a time, I did start to find myself and realize that this wasn’t who I was. I needed time to understand what was important to me. My values. My principles. My passion. My loves. My hates. Everything. I explored myself in near-isolation, breaking away from what was familiar to me, and broke my routines for almost a year, I reckon. Time passed. I fell into a new rhythm of family/work/friends/writing/living, and began to feel so good about myself again that I remembered what it was that I wanted in my life in the first place. As far as relationships go, I’ve had my misses, but no regrets. When I meet the right guy, and when the time truly comes for me to settle down, I will, no doubt. And when I do, I won’t try so hard to control everything, or be so afraid of losing anything that I lose the one thing I shouldn’t be losing – myself.
So moral of the story? If you’re planning on chasing something, chase it for all the right reasons. Be true to who you are FIRST, instead of looking for external approval and validation. If you’re doing it for the wrong reasons, chances are you’ll be pulled along for a ride you don’t even want/need in the first place.
As for the guy? We remain friends, and he’s none the wiser 
Have a great month, folks. Slainte!
Hi Folks!
Contrary to popular belief, I have not disappeared off the face of the planet.
I had something to write about the whole backbiting/backstabbing incident that has made me lose faith in certain writing communities, but decided against it. I mean, I reckon if you have to resort to that kind of attitude to get where you are in your writing career, then well hey, all the best and good luck! Glad to see that you’re doing well I think I’ll just go back to what I’ve been doing all the years before this whole hubbub started.
Until next time. Slainte!
Hey folks,
Taking a break from my busy week. It’s been a great one so far (with some more revelations about life’s intricacies), but that’s another story. Although I am refraining from crying like a little girl right now over uh, a project which some of you already know about, I wanted to highlight another issue that brought tears to my eyes.
Here is one of the latest happenings in Malaysia:
http://www.todayonline.com/World/EDC110907-0000346/Msian-activists-outraged-after-300-cats-starved
http://news.asiaone.com/News/AsiaOne%2BNews/Malaysia/Story/A1Story20110906-297960.html
Okay, granted. Animal cruelty isn’t something that just popped out of our corrupted civilization yesterday – It has been happening for as long as there have been animal/human interaction. It has often been highlighted abroad, and I’ve seen one too many Animal Cops on Animal Planet to understand that there ARE individuals without compunction who would physically hurt and torture another living thing for the sheer kick of it. It’s sick. But it happens. Unfortunately. There is a plethora of diseases out there. Animal cruelty is one of it.
This case, justifiably, brought a mass of outrage among Malaysians. Heck, I get upset when I think about it. Did the pet hotel owners decide that they’d shove as many cats (all of which are regarded as beloved family members by their owners) as they can into their hotel, just to hoard as much money as they could before the festive seasons? Were they greedy? Were they heartless? Cruel? A rank combination of all these sins?
Heartbreaking picture of one of the cats rescued from the cat hotel
Probably. These shameful behavioural no-nos have been attributed to the Petknode owners, with no other explanations needed. A lot of people, including myself (who once owned a little furkid named Chemong, and who loved him like a little brother) would like to see justice delivered to these two, to justify the untimely, unwarranted, tragic deaths of the poor cats.
But.
The curious side of me is also willing to look at another possibility as to why this happened. Let’s put aside the “devil-in-a-man’s-mask” idea for a moment, and have a look at this:
This has really got me thinking. From what little I’ve read online, it seems that the owners did display a great degree of passion and care for their animals. They even have their own cats, which they loved and cared for wholeheartedly. They were even said to have been responsible cat-caretakers, and it is my belief now that these are the very aptitudes which bought them their clients’ trusts in the first place – clients who have repeatedly sent their cats there (regardless of the fact that they were operating without a proper license). Clients who have advocated their cause and their shelter repeatedly before this. Who have vouched for their credibility (who, unfortunately, may have lost their cats in this recent tragedy as well).
I’m not making an excuse for these two, don’t get me wrong. There is NO excuse that could justify the neglect and death of these cats, yet a disorder may have slithered its way into the picture here. Without further exploration into the possibility of this matter, without the “What-if-they-really-were-animal-hoarders?” notion, we’re just focusing on a slice of what COULD be the tip of a massive iceberg.
Knowing the warning signs, knowing what to look out for, might arm us with the ability to tell the difference between outright heartless, money-grubbing cruelty, and someone with a mental disorder who operates under a charitable cause. Both of which must be stopped. Better yet, stopped with the CORRECT way, either through the justice system, or….a mental institution. Identify the symptom = treat it. (But if it really is just downright greed, then that’s a whole different story right there)
Animal hoarders CAN’T help doing what they do. It’s no different than someone who has severe OCD, who can’t seem to tear himself/herself away from the same light switch he/she has flicked on/off for the thousandth time.
For the Petknode duo, it MAY have been the compulsive need to help, which may have come from the best of intentions and the heartfelt, sincere love for animals. Unfortunately, in this case, things turned ugly.
But….this brings up another predicament. I understand ONE pet hoarder. But two in the same place? Either one was, and the other one was just greedy or plain ignorant, or they both were. If it was animal hoarding, then bringing this issue to light might help others identify those who have the symptoms but don’t KNOW what it is. We will be able to help both animal AND man in the process. That doesn’t sound like a bad idea to me.
Whatever the case may be, I do hope the guys who operated the hotel get what’s coming to them. But I may not have to hope. I have a feeling it’s already happening. With so many furious Malaysians out here looking for them, it’s just a matter of time before they are dragged out of their hiding-holes to face the consequences.
Anyway, these are just my thoughts on the matter. What about yours? Friends who live overseas, I would love to hear your thoughts on this as well. I have seen these kinds of cases happening quite a lot outside Malaysia.
Ps: My heartfelt condolences to the pet owners who have lost their beloved pets. :hugs:
I’ve had this on my mind for quite a while now, but I haven’t had the time to actually sit down and write this. In fact I don’t really have the time NOW, with the day job keeping me occupied, the writerly stuffs I owe a friend, the countless unanswered emails, and of course, the re-write of Path of Defiance. Did I mention I’ve barely touched chapter 2? Yeah, it’s been what….5 months now since I started the re-write? Stupid syntax. Stupid phrasing. :grumbles:
Okay before I start: A little warning. Not everyone will like this post, but hey, it’s just my thoughts. You don’t have to agree with me. I don’t expect that.
Ever watched those local soap dramas on tv? If you have, you’ll have seen the scenarios below (repeatedly, if you’re as unlucky as I was) in varying degrees. If you haven’t, trust me, at some point in your life you’re going to be stuck somewhere (either at a relative’s or a family friend’s home), and they’ll insist on watching the soap, and you’ll have no choice but to sit with them (because you won’t have anywhere else to go. Except if you sit outside. Yeah, I should’ve done that).
Some of the elements in these shows are not bad. Inculcating good virtues, noble acts, the reminder to turn the other cheek whenever you are wronged. Good stuff.
But the majority of the elements are just ridiculous to the point of comedy. There are no gray areas (a more realistic representation of the real world), and only solid good vs evil. Black vs white.
1. How marital problems are solved:
The scenario: Husband and beautiful, gentle, scarf-wearing wife were born into poverty, but through his smarts and a thirty second montage of him working his ass off, he somehow ends up establishing a very successful company, leading to the shedding of his old life, and the donning of a new one, including an expensive bungalow, a Mercedes to replace his rickety old bike, or a bmw. It gets better.
Pretty soon husband receives the eye-flirties from the sans-scarf/heavy make-up covered village slut (there is ALWAYS one in every village, apparently, and apparently if you don’t wear a head scarf you’re bad. Real bad). He falls helplessly, madly in love with her. He ditches his loyal, kind, religiously moral, pregnant wife, becomes the biggest douche-bag you’ve ever seen, even goes so far as throwing her and the kids out the door, ushering in the new wife just because of them eye-flirties.
No one can resist those eye flirties!
The wife, rendered penniless, pregnant, and with kids to feed, spends the next few months crying her eyes out in her parents’ home, doing nothing but pray (and literally, nothing but bawl her eyes out), hoping that somehow God would soften her husband’s heart and make him crawl back to her. When asked to DO something about it (like move on and get a life), she would sigh, put on a sad face and say, “I can do nothing but sit here and cry. Only God knows my pain. It is fated that he is what he is. He is my husband and I still love him. I don’t blame him. Even if he did beat the crap out of me when he threw me out of the house. I will wait for him to change.” Also, when asked to do something, she does nothing because she HAS nothing (which touches on another issue – where total spouse dependency could lead to this unwanted situation and a backup plan is ALWAYS crucial if you’re married. But this of course isn’t highlighted at all. It gets bogged down under a hail of pointless angry shouting, finger pointing (literally), and continued weeping and moans of “Oh god, why me? Why me?”)
I do agree with the power of prayer, but we’ll get back to that in a minute.
So, about an hour and fifteen minutes into the story, the husband’s business predictably starts to go south. The village slut predictably spends all of his wealth to expand the tower of lipsticks she already has arranged like little towers on her vanity, and the guy starts to predictably fall ill. Some unexplained illness that is mostly just karma than anything scientific or natural. He loses said village slut, who predictably, wants him only for his money. Suddenly thrust down to the very nadir of misery where NOTHING he does is right and everything falls apart around him.
I need one in coral blue! Stat!
At this point of the show, viewers will be presented with the douche-bag’s AHA moment – where he realizes that being a mean old, cheating husband isn’t all that it’s cut out to be, that maybe his wild, immoral ways were wrong (duh), that maybe he shouldn’t have fallen for those eye-flirties in the first place.
The story then will end in these three varieties. It could be either one, and yes, I’ve watched about half a dozen of these shows to know that most of them end up with one of these choices:
1) Husband repents, goes back to his wife, miraculously recovers, and just as quickly spends the rest of his life making amends, and predictably they all live happily ever after.
2) Husband dies, either of said disease or, if the disease wasn’t introduced into the show, a car crash, or a freak accident. The manner of his death is simply so horrible it doesn’t bear mentioning. The manner of his burial is no better, and we the viewers are presented with the consequences of practicing jack-assery in life when you shouldn’t.
3) Wife or one of the kids (or sometimes BOTH) die, throwing husband into a loop of absolute despair and hopelessness that is quite sudden and shows that he’s either so traumatized that he forgets that he threw them out and beat the crap out of his wife, divorced her, called her ALL manner of derogatory names and wanted her to die in the first place.
Now, I’m not saying that this happens in EVERY show. Fact is, it doesn’t. What surprises me is that there are enough of them still circulating around at this day and age. The old cliched plotline of good vs evil, of the dire consequences of sinning, of the rewards of being just and true, are played and replayed over and over again with such similar settings that I do wonder if people realize our intelligence has just been insulted. Repeatedly. Here’s why:
The problem:
1. What the show has highlighted is that having patience, virtue and well, not being a horrible human being, makes life pleasant for everyone. Nothing wrong with that, but these messages get bogged down terribly by the overlaying message of “sin and thou shalt suffer and die!”
The positive notes, sadly, disappear under the radar, and most viewers (by most I mean the people I’ve seen who watched this show and shared their reactions afterward), would more likely say, “Booyeah, serves that bastard right! Take that, scumbag!” Which, in itself, is a negative attitude in itself, if you think about it. Taking pleasure in seeing another person suffer, instead of highlighting that the moral of the story is “Do unto others as you would have others do unto you.” Or whatever the morals of the story are.
2. The message shown is also that we as humans don’t have to do anything but just sit there and wait for karma to take its toll. No, really. Don’t bother fighting for your rights. Don’t bother reporting the abuse to the authorities. Don’t bother doing anything. Just sit there and cry, and pray, because God will take care of everything.
Again, I do NOT, I repeat, do NOT refute the power of prayer. It’s one of the most powerful things in the world.
Providing you do something about your life other than just sit in your parents’ house and bawl your eyes out until something actually happens and take the beating/abuse/injustice knowing at the back of your mind that (hehe, this sucker is so gonna get it! Not from me though…Ooh no way I’m getting my hands dirty.)
Aren’t we also given free will, and a mind to think of a way to ACT? To REACT? To do something? This is the same as just saying “I have this disease. I’m sick. It’s fated. Nothing I can do about it.” Instead of hauling your ass over to the hospital to get yourself better or even give yourself a CHANCE to see what you can do about it.
We’ve all heard the idiom, Trust in God but lock your damn car. Do we seriously expect God to do everything for us? What, existence, free will, and the god-given gift to think/feel/act aren’t enough? You want Him to take care of that jackass for you as well? Who are we kidding? We’re not endowed with prophetic powers – a child of prophecy that deserves that special treatment. At the end of the day, we’re human. As susceptible to sin and wrongdoing as the next man/woman. We want something done, we have to haul our ass off that couch and do it!
The argument then would be about vengeance as being a bad thing. Of course it is. But then, the people saying that are the ones who actually hope that at the end of the day, this guy will get his just desserts (just not from us! Teehee!). I smell hypocrisy here. I’m not EXPECTING the victims in the dramas to go and shoot the guy and beat the crap out of him – no. But I expect them to have at least some modicum of realness in them to actually DO something about that shitty situation – Like getting out of it.
Yeah...THAT'LL teach im'!
Heck, even a horse will kick back when he is challenged by a fellow horse and when someone threatens to hurt him. I’m just sayin’. Are we seriously teaching our women to just take whatever abuse that’s being thrown at them? Really?
I think this is pretty self explanatory...
3. It also, in a way, drags God’s supremacy down to becoming a vengeful being, bent only on the destruction of evil because us humans don’t really want to clean up our own mess. Because well. It’s messy. God is greater than that. It’s the same as saying the tsunami happened and wiped out an entire civilization because “those people were meany meanyheads!” and we’re safe because we’re so much better than they are! And god knows I’ve heard this a dozen times as well. It makes me gag just to think about it.
“It’s all about forgiveness” – Really? So it’s okay to be treated immorally and let the guy treat you any way he wants because somewhere in the back of your mind you know the Maker upstairs will take care of it for you and you don’t have to do anything?
Forgiveness is all fine and dandy. Getting OUT of that situation and moving on/ not falling victim to someone’s tyrannical reign, should be on the same pedestal, no? And well, from the dramas I’ve seen, the message of forgiveness is also often bogged down by the suffering of the sinner – like an overpowering taste of garlic in a dish that is supposed to be wholesome and balanced.
TOO MUCH GARLIC!
4. In reality, hoping for a man to change while weeping in your parents’ homes won’t work. Here is proof why:
http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2011/4/1/nation/8389596&sec=nation
http://thestar.com.my/news/story.asp?file=/2011/8/16/nation/9304337&sec=nation
Important to note: Report the abuse. You don’t just sit at your parents’ house, bawl your eyes out, and pray for the guy to change on the pretext that you both love each other and that he’s just blinded by that slut who has now conveniently stolen everything you had. Do something about it. Reality isn’t as sugar-coated as the dramas portray it to be.
5. Someone has to die. Or suffer. There is never a middle ground on this, the same as there aren’t gray areas in the moral aspect of the stories. You cheat your wife/husband – someone dies. By the time this happens and the bad guy snaps out of his evilness-ness, it’s too late. And hence, the dozens upon dozens of scenes in graveyards where the bad guy usually howls in despair for his lost spouse.
It paints an even morbid situation than real life does, if you think about it. An attempt to scare us into being moral and just because well, “Damn, consequence! You scary!” – not because it’s about doing the RIGHT thing, and an understanding of morality and just virtues is the foundation of religion and life.
The best way to inculcate a certain behavior IS fear, after all. :rolls eyes:
So yes, there you have it. My rant for the week. Woo, I’m glad that’s out of my system
On an unrelated note – Happy Eid Mubarak to all my Muslim friends! Have a safe drive back to your hometowns. I’m sorry I can’t doodle a card for all of you. My schedule is all wonky lately.
~ Slainte.
Last Friday, a few rider friends and I decided to go on a trail ride in the wooded, palm oil plantation behind our riding school. After 6 months of riding within the paddock and the arena grounds, you can bet your arse that I was itching to get out there and see how much I’ve learned about horseback riding.
So, with a skip in me step and a lively jig playing in me ears, I got up at the crack of dawn and raced to the riding school, raring to go. I met up with three other rider friends there, but there was one problem It was raining. Heavily. Not the gentle drizzle I’ve ridden in before. The kind that promises to make mud puddles and slippery slopes hazardous to new, inexperienced riders. We waited for nearly one hour, to no avail. The rain continued to pour, and we were left to wait and hope that the storm would let up just a little to let us poor, eager riders go out there and scratch the itch to ride….
Come 8.30, and it was still pouring. We gave up, but seeing that the horses were already saddled, decided to take a lesson instead. This is where the interesting bit comes in
I’ve had about 23 lessons x 3o minutes each of saddle time, I reckon, and I thought hey, if the trainer said it would take 2-3 more classes to get to canter, why not try the canter then? I was paired with Prada this time, a 16 hand-ish polo mare. I’ve never ridden her before, but once we got into the paddock, I must say the warm up session went swimmingly She followed my instructions without protest, and with my trainer watching, I did the figure 8s, the circles, changed reins a few times, all on my own. It was very, very rewarding to know that I had my balance on posting trot quite well, and when I felt that I was ready, I gave the trainer a nod,. He gave me a few instructions on how to begin the canter, and after that it was up to me and Prada.
I’ll try to put into words what the canter feels like. It begins with the build-up of energy in the horse’s muscles (and you can feel this build up as the horse tenses and picks up speed), followed by the sudden rush of the wind around you. And then, there is a moment of stillness…just for a moment…before the horse bursts forward in an explosion of pure muscle and horse power. The two-beat gait of the trot shifts to a three-beat gait. It feels like you’re floating in the air, with all that power and force lifting you off the ground…
It’s hard. I can tell you that. Hard because for one, I didn’t have my seat properly yet. I was bouncing too much. In fact, I had a conversation with the stablemaster today and he advised me to stay away from the canter for a few more weeks to work on my sitting trot instead. I agree with him. I had JUST gotten the feel of the sitting trot a couple of weeks back, and I didn’t really have enough saddle time on that to be moving to the canter. This, coupled with the fact that I was so busy trying to maintain my balance that I nearly crashed Prada into the gate, was enough to make me agree to what the stablemaster proposed.
So no more canter until I get my sitting trot right But I have to tell you, it was one of the best feelings I’ve ever felt. Just like when I sold my first short story, woooot! XD
More entries soon, on the trail ride, primarily I’ll post that one up as soon as I have some pictures.
Salam Ramadhan to all my Muslim friends!
Slainte folks! And ooh, by the way, tomorrow I don a new career hat More on that soon too.
