Christian the Lion

I was watching this just now and I was like WTF??

Gosh, why nobody told me it was this easy to write a blog!!

p/s: anyway my cousin just now asked me to watch this youtube video so...I guess it is somehow interesting. Thought of sharing it with you guys here.

Keeping the Merdeka Spirit Alive

This Sunday is.................................................

MERDEKA DAY!!



but this coming Monday is...................................

HOLIDAY!!!

Its just so good to be in Malaysia where if holidays falls on weekends, we are given another day off as a replacement.

Where in the world practice such things!!

Now, whenever merdeka is around the corner, I'd always love to see how people show their Malaysian Spirit.




umm sorry wrong picture...




Sadly, this year around, our 51st Merdeka Day has not been shown alot of attention. (Maybe this could be due to over-spending in our 50th Merdeka Day)



Ok lets face it!! When I say attention, I don't mean the usual boring parade.



I meant the MALAYSIAN WAY OF SHOWING OUR MERDEKA SPIRIT!!

Like umm....

Turning your whole car into a Malaysian Flag.



Make the longest flag with bottles.



Make a Malaysian Flag out of Lego's.



Try to outbeat in making the Malaysia's longest flag that stretches a mile longer by using everyone's "Bergotong-royong" hand spirit.





or wearing a Malaysian Flag Shirt and smashing a "Kompang" at least!!



So, yesterday, without the presence of anyone displaying a Malaysian flag on their car at the very least,



I saw what could at least show that there are still people out there who still does give a damn about Merdeka Day.

Driving past Pulau Tikus, I saw this.....




HAVE YOU SEEN HIM!!HAVE YOU SEEN HIM!!



THE ONE ON THE BICYCLE WITH MALAYSIAN FLAG USED AS A ROOF RIDING AROUND THERE WITH PRIDE!!




Okay, I know there are a whole lot of ways to show your Merdeka Spirit but using the Malaysian Flag to shade yourself from the sun and rain is not actually the nicest way to show respect to a flag but still....

At least its still great to know someone is keeping the Merdeka Spirit Alive the MALAYSIAN WAY!!

HAPPY 51st MERDEKA EVERYONE!!

Once, I dreamt.

Once, we dreamt of nobility.

Ask any child. He will tell you he wants to be a policeman. A firefighter. A doctor. And she will tell you she wants to be a teacher. A ballerina. An artist.

Once, we dreamt of making the world a better place. Some place more beautiful, more lovely, more worth living in.

Ask any child. And he will show you the dreams he dreams to grow into. Good dreams, sound dreams.

Once, I dreamt of becoming a painter. And a teacher. And a doctor. And then a missionary.

Ask the child in me. And I will show you those dreams were good.

But as we grow up, our marshmallow dreams sink into the hot chocolate muck of our reality, and the vocations we grow ourselves into no longer sound noble, brave, beautiful. We became doctors, and clerks, and cashiers, and students and businesspeople. And we even became famous people.

But they were of a different texture. Our dreams of childhood, made of delicate silk and fine gold, became rough and gritty.

Once, we dreamt of nobility.


In the shape of firefighters, policemen, teachers, doctors and painters. When we didn't become any of those, it was as if the child in us, the child which once dreamt of nobility, died, too. And when we did become any of those, too often, we became disillusioned, too Efficient, and grew up too quickly.

How many people have you met who truly are crazy about their jobs? Just yesterday I met a little old silver-haired lady in thick-rimmed glasses who picked my two team-mates and I up from the hospital corridor, just randomly. "Are you three medical students? Not having lessons right? Come with me."

She didn't know any of us. For the next two hours, she whisked us from ward to ward, teaching us about her patients by their bedside. "I like to teach random people at any time of the day, wherever I am. It's not important to know who I am," she quipped. She was a little William Osler on steroids, and it wasn't before long that we realised she was the most senior and respected doctor of that department.

She was clearly past seventy, and yet full of fire and bursting with child-like energy. "Don't ever describe your patient as 'that guy'. I find that very disrespectful. Make the effort to remember their names."

She won my respect immediately.

Past seventy, and yet full of that child-like, dream-like quality in the spring of her foot-steps. Once, she dreamt of nobility. And she lives it well.

And we forget that the dreams we dreamed as children, which made us believe in truth and nobility and beauty, were the dreams we dreamed would become our vocations, the dreams we dreamed would make us better people.

Does your vocation make you a better person?

Was it the dream you dreamt of when you were little? More importantly, did it make you the person you dreamt of becoming. No, not famous or rich or first, even. But brave, and noble and kind.

I felt quite low the entire morning today. In my haste to get a job done, I didn't realise how hurried I sounded with a patient before my team-mate pointed it out to me. Walking back from the ward, I thanked him for being so honest with me. I heaved a sigh.

"I'm so afraid of becoming dehumanised to patients, that I might wake up one morning and find myself no longer the same person I used to be," I said.

"Well, you shouldn't be the same person," he laughed. I think he meant to say, you should be better.

Perhaps, we underestimate our vocations, and forget the power they have over us, that magical transformative power they had over us as children, to make us better people. We forget, that once, we dreamt of nobility- of goodness and courage and beauty.

In many ways, I am enjoying the way mine is shaping me, and not in the way many think. Before, I was afraid of the proud prick I might become in my journey of becoming a doctor. But the more I learn, the more ashamed I am of my lack of humility and servitude, and the more awed I am by the vastness of knowledge that lay before me.

Before, I think I would often imagine myself being in the limelight, doing the Impressive procedures "fit" for the intended image of a doctor, doing "important" things people expect doctors to do. But I like the way medicine is shaping me- that I can now hold a patient's hand, or get him a glass of water, or draw his curtains, or adjust his bed, or help a nurse, or run a tiny errand for a doctor... and feel perfectly and completely fulfilled. Before, I would have been irritated by the mundane nature of it all. But I like how this vocation is shaping, changing me, and I like the way it has changed my definition of Nobility.

Once, I dreamt of nobility. And it has become my reality, albeit in a humbler, more precious way.

I just got posted to a different hospital a week ago to a different department. We're no longer in Surgery, but in Internal Medicine. In the hospital I was previously at, I vividly remember one defining moment which etched itself like an engraved name onto the plaque of my heart.

There was an elderly man curled up on his bed, shrivelled like a prawn, making incomprehensible moans which everybody ignored. Before, I knew I would have walked past him without nary a backward glance. That day, however, I Stopped. I stopped, and I went back and I asked him what the matter was. He flailed his hand weakly in the air and moaned again. We could have dismissed him as being demented, but we stopped to figure out his gesticulations. I realised- he wanted his food at the foot of his bed which he couldn't reach. I pulled his table to him, and my team-mate adjusted it for him.

"Is that okay?" I asked. He nodded meekly. I smiled, but just as I was about to leave, my team-mate Stopped to arranged his cutlery, and painstakingly unwrapped the plastic clingwrap stuck to his soup-bowl. That tiny act awed me-unwrapping that plastic clingwrap, that is. As we left, I sneaked a quick peek and caught a glimpse of his sheepish, bleary, droolly grin, as he held his spoonful of porridge to his wide-open mouth tremulously and served it right in. He was so happy.


That was my best moment.


It felt better than any pride-filled moment of glee when I answered a question correctly, or impressed my professor in front of the class. It felt better than my first time doing stitches in Operation Theatre. That was my best moment. He was so happy.

A moment of humility, of being transformed, of becoming a child, and dreaming again. Of growing into a Vocation, a dream which made me, is making me a better person.


And I realised, that it doesn't take the Vocation itself to make one's dreams and reality noble. It is the child-like, dream-like courage, goodness and sincerity one puts into the little which one does.

I remember, it would often be the arrogant, efficient senior doctor instead who disappointed me with his gruffness and egocentric attitude. (Of course, there are many inspiring senior doctors around too.) At the hospital I was attached to in the previous two months, I was even inspired by the cleaning lady who greeted everyone around her everyday, whatever their position or mood was. She brightened up the day of every single person who went by her.

Maybe she never dreamt of becoming a cleaning lady. Maybe her lifelong aspiration was to be a doctor, or a ballerina, or a world-renowned chef. Maybe that was her childhood dream. But you could never tell. Because for all the world could see, her nobility showed not through the nature of her job, but what she made it to be- a true vocation of her own, one she owned with pride. She filled it with her own fairytale goodness and made it noble as it was.

Once, we dreamed of nobility.

In the shape of firefighters, policemen, teachers, doctors and painters.

And perhaps it's about time we remembered, that to truly dream and fulfill those dreams, to truly lived a life of nobility and truth, to truly have lived and succeeded, is...


... to laugh often and smile much, to see the best in others and oneself, to listen well and wholeheartedly... to leave the world a little better, a little more beautiful, a little more transformed, whether by a kind word or a genuine look or a humble act... to know that even one life was made more enjoyable because of the way you lived and dreamed...



Perhaps, that is to have dreamt of nobility, and lived it, too.

Let no one ever come to you without feeling happier and better.

- Mother Teresa

Remnants of Beauty.

They are all ugly. And worse, they take forever to fade away. Sometimes they itch even, and grow to become grotesque, infiltrating tentacles which dig deep into skin. Most of us hide them-underneath sleeves and thin clothing. Few wear them as badges of honour. Even fewer have reason to.

Scars.

For a long time I noticed one on both my forefeet, more prominently on my left foot, but could never figure out how they came about. They were just tiny things, seeming to appear without rhyme nor reason. I neither hit that part of my foot against anything, nor chaff them against my shoes. Nonetheless, day after day, over weeks during the time I struggled with depression and fought Ed, the scars mysteriously grew deeper and more obvious.

I never knew why.

And then one night, I awoke in the dark with absolutely no feeling in both my legs. It was as if they had been lopped off by sneaky leprachuans in the night. In my exhaustion from tears, work and talking to God, I had fallen asleep on the hard wooden floor on my knees. As I got up, I saw blood. I finally found out- that the scars on my feet were from nights crying, listening, talking to God on my knees, and the weight of my body bore down upon the bony prominences, the way my burdens bore down on God’s shoulders.

Scars. Just tiny ones, but they're still there.


I almost feel like I’ve entered into a new season. With the love and encouragement of many of you, my parents, friends and special angels, I want to share with you the good news that I've been making good progress. I remember the utterly bleak mornings and black nights earlier in the year and only marvel in gratitude at how far we’ve come together.

I say We, because I never walked alone. My parents, and friends loved, cared for and supported me- even in times they could not understand. They never stopped trying, never gave up and even now, are still trying because the depth of their love runs that deep. Most of all, God was always there. Always there, always understanding.

The worst is over, but not the journey. The journey still runs on, in glorious, honey-glazed sunshine, because of the new life without Ed the Professional People will help me to rebuild. And my tears ran down at church last week, even today, as I thought about the laid-down love my family and friends extended to me all this while. All in the little things- in the way you all surprised me on my birthday, the way you always considered where we were lunching when we met up without me having to worry, the way you travelled all the way back to accompany me unexpectedly, the way many of you were there- in deed and not just talk.

And I often wonder if I would look back upon this in shame or in pride. Stigmas don’t change overnight.

But I choose neither. For I know for sure God allowed this for a reason- I have grown and learnt so much in this season, become a person, more whole, healthy and able to reach out to others and to connect with God.

Often, everyday in fact, I look at my scars, and my knee-jerk reaction is always one of cringing. Don't they all bring back bad memories? My eleven-stitch scar on my elbow since I was five brings back the same vivid memories, even after all these years... of my daredevil recklessness, that at-all-cost eagerness to win at police-and-thief, the devastating crash to the floor at my best friend's house (he was four and proposed to me shortly after I was discharged from hospital), my favourite toy gun flinging out of my hand across the corridor, the excruciating pain, the manic panic...

But with every story of grief, struggle and suffocation, comes also the ending of breakthrough.

For the same scar brings back memories also of the zoo-animal sling I picked for my cast, the many precious signatures I accumulated from friends, the many "wah, what a brave little girl you are!" encouragements from aunties and uncles... and the easy identification it provided when I forgot which was my left, and right- "See Jia, this scar here means this is your left hand. L-E-F-T. Left," my sister would tell me.

It's ironic to know how it is not the visible physical scars which are hardest to wear, but those worn in our hearts, which bring us shame, reproach and guilt.

But we forget, that scars are scars, and every one has the same story of pain, and yet praise, too.

Pain, because it hurt so much. And praise, in knowing that God brought us through, that we survived the battle, and came out stronger for it.

Scars. Why do people call them Ugly.

Indeed, scars may not be the prettiest things, especially not if they're found on an area we wished were baby-smooth, for all to see. But while they remind us of the painful processes we walked through, they also mark the battles we fought valiantly and the love of God which guided and saw us through.

Scars. They are our marks of victory, badges of triumph, flags of celebration.



Ugly? Why, not quite.


It's not easy, however. I should know. There is always that crimson embarrassment, that lavender shyness and turquoise envy at someone else, when one recounts the story of his own scar. Ed. Depression. Even this very space is a scar, bearing the mark of all my weaknesses, pitfalls and dark-valley times. Many times I meet people who've visited this space before seeing me face to face, and that naturally, on a human level, unnerves me a little. We all want a darlie-white first impression, don't we? But I tell myself we live for a reason bigger than ourselves, and if our scars can bring hope to another, bring glory to God, then perhaps, they are worth carrying, worth revealing, worth celebrating.

There is a fine line between shame and humility, and I believe this is where we make or break ourselves. We can choose to be ashamed, and continue to live under a cloak of reproach, or embrace our experiences as opportunities for growth, as times of learning humility, as testimonies of God's love for us- for seeing us through, for building us up, for being... Real.

Scars.

I call them remnants of beauty, for remembering the goodness of God's love. We needn't hide them.

That tiny scar on my left forefoot tells the story of the nights of weeping, the feet-breaking numbness from kneeling... but also the intimacy and reality of God to me, that invisible, enveloping presence from up above, and my eventual recovery, healing from a journey of faith- blind faith.

Scars. We can wear them with honour. It's not easy, I know. I don't pretend to be someone else when people who meet me tell me they know my Story. I always smile back, always.

Scars. Our evidence of God with us.

For we can hold on to that promise, that when we become bone and ash, and dirt and dust, and find ourselves in Paradise in a Perfect Place, we will see that the journey was worth it, was necessary to make us who we became. And on that day of total gratitude and inexplicable admiration for those remnants of beauty, we shall, paradoxically, find ourselves completely restored, without a hint of blemish, perfect.

For in heaven, they say, only one Person bears all our scars. Because of Him, we are free, finally.

" Surely He took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows...

But He was pierced for our transgressions...

and by His wounds we are healed."

-Isaiah 4-5

British Colonial with elements of Swing, Big Ben and Jazz.

Getting the feeling that some of my dear "Readers" are getting bored with my attempt to win prizes online through blogging, i'm going to write about events that i'm planning to do at least for once. I mean what else are blogs for then.



So, in a few hours time, I'll be spending my Saturday Night out at an exclusive place called The Alila Horizon's which I was invited by a friend through Facebook.

Now I've been too many house parties before, but never one with a theme that goes like this...

British Colonial with elements of Swing, Big Ben and Jazz.

I hope its going to be fun.

Ummm wait...hope???

Let me check the invitation in facebook again..

Hot Chicks...Checked
Food...Checked
Directions..Checked
Google Map...Checked
Phone number..Checked
Time and Date..Checked

Wahh, really can't go wrong with facebook invitations aeh..

My Samsung Bluetooth MP3 Player YP-S5

I could always remember when my car had no radio after it got STOLEN.


I did not have the money to replace it (thank you thief, I doubt you read blogs!!) and my ex-girlfriend whom I dated back then had to suffer and travel with me around in a very silent car.



We even came to a stage when my ex-girlfriend would plug in one ear piece into my left ear and another into her ear and play music from her handphone(did not have mp3 phone back then) in the car while i'm driving. It was definitely music sharing those days...



OBVIOUSLY!!We didn't last long...


If there was any truth to telling a girl that she deserves someone better like in this picture,




This whole can't afford a radio and going on dates without radio definitely shows it clearly.

I was a broken man.

And I became single for the longest time of my life which might change after last weekend.

Last weekend, I won a Samsung Bluetooth MP3 PLayer YP-S5 over blogging.




Samsung thought that my Wormy Blog post was their favourite among all the other blogs out there but seriously, I felt that my post was really badly written and among all, I really got lost in what I was trying to say. But I got to thank you guys for giving me something that normally guys like me would work our asses off to pay for the things we want in life.




Now I would love to go in details about this new gadget that I kind of like got it for free but I think you could just go and visit this website aeh..Nothing really great except that its got speakers


and umm bluetooth capability which you can transfer files, or pick up phone calls and stuff like that.



So umm after reading all that, I've got umm an MP3 Player now and still using the same car.

Ok I know i did not win a car through blogging but still...



What you say...Would you like to go out for a date with me?Music Sharing ok?

Samsung Bluetooth MP3 Player YP-S5 you know!!!

Swatch.

We've done all sorts of things to it. Used it, saved it, ruminated on it, even tried to conquer it, buy it, tell it. Yet, after all these years, we've never succeeded in our relentless conquest. At best, we've managed to use it, tell it, but at worst, we've made ourselves slaves to it, succumbing to anxiety, impatience, frustration.

Time.

We've never succeeded to conquer it, but we've found our way around it. We've bought ourselves fancy watches with shiny faces, metallic chains from top-end stores, pretending that we've managed to own some of it, conquer at least part of it. But each time we take a harried glimpse down at our ornated wrists, we've tied ourselves more tightly as bond-slaves to it.

Time.

We buy ourselves the most expensive of watches, and try to occupy every moment of our days. Some of us can't even take it off for a moment. We try to look Busy and Important, and a fancy watch helps portray that image well.


Exactly two years ago, Kitesong was published and plans to build an orphanage for the disadvantaged children of Nepal was established. One year and a half ago, plans to turn Kitesong into an online animation and audio-book CD so as to raise more funds were discussed, and somewhere around that time, I fell ill to Anorexia.

One and a half years. It went by so quickly.

Two days ago, one and a half years after I first stepped into the recording studio to narrate the audio-book version of Kitesong, I found myself back in that same room- this time, finally savouring the fruition of the finished product. We sat around in a circle, and it was Sydney who said, "I'm sorry I took so long to compose the song!"

But the rest of us were hardly sorry. My publisher EK, his wife Aunty A and myself were hardly sorry at all.

" We've something beautiful to tell you," Aunty A said to Sydney.

I continued, " Did you know, that after one a half years of not hearing much news from both parties, you, as well as the missionaries from Nepal contacted me on the same week. Two weeks ago, when you called Aunty A to tell her that the song was ready for the Kitesong CD, the missionaries from Nepal visited Singapore and invited me to their gathering to share with me their new developments for their plans to help the children at the Nepalese orphanage."

If we had produced the CD version of Kitesong any earlier, it would have been, in some sense, quite redundant- the books and other fundraising activities had been sufficient for what the project was at the time. But in God's time, a year and a half later, there were new needs for the Nepalese childen and the CD had now provided the answer for those new needs. Both parties never knew what the other had planned. It seemed more than a coincidence, for the two worlds to fit perfectly like puzzle pieces at once, and we all exchanged knowing glances. We each learnt an important lesson that night.


We wear watches, allow ourselves to be busied and anxious by it, but how often do we let ourselves be amazed by the beautifully divine orchestrations planned by the Creator of Time Himself?


"And there's another part to this Story, I think," Aunty A looked at me and smiled. " I think the completion of the song composed for the Kitesong CD is also a symbolic mark of God's healing and restoration in your life."

And so the four of us sat there, in the darkened room of the recording studio and rejoiced, marvelling at the beauty of coming full circle. It was Sydney who unleashed the celebratory victory cry of triumph, "Aha, thank God for my tardiness!"

It was a beautiful moment.

I thought about what Aunty A said for a long time, measuring what the word healed meant. Didn't she know I was still seeing the therapists, and that I'm still on maintenance for medication? She did- so why the word healed?

And I thought about the many victories won of late. The full days which went by without Ed following me, the disappearing acts of Ele, the comments from friends about my emanating radiance, friends once again returning to me for help, counsel and advice... And I thought about the seniors-meet-juniors talk I had chaired just last week, where I had addressed the entire junior batch of medical students and encouraged them in their arduous journey in medicine, and the number of them who came up to me after the talk to thank me for re-inspiring them, for being part of the organising committee. I thought about the gathering I was organising at my place this weekend, where doctors and students would have the chance to build bonds and share visions, and how satisfying and fulfilling it had been to plan, organise, birth it. I thought about my serving and helping to teach the little children at Sunday School in church.

And the word healed had new meaning.

One and a half years. How long we had waited. But we forget, that on God's calendar, the timing had been perfect. It had been right on schedule.

It had taken forever for the planets to move, but we now saw how it needed just that amount of time for the stars to coincide in perfect alignment.


Every doctor and medical student needs a watch. We need watches which not only have second hands, but also with twelve divisions around the clockface, so we may take the pulse of our patients accurately. I had an expensive Swatch watch bought years ago which exasperated me. It is impossible to take a pulse rate accurately with it because it has no divisions. It cost me a hundred and twenty dollars at the time. The last time I visited the Swatch shop, its price had risen to a hundred and sixty dollars. I thought about it for a long time- I hated the idea buying another watch and owning two, especially when its purpose ought to be purely functional.

"Just get another cheaper one, and use this one for special occasions," said my friends.

But what am I going to do with two watches? For a long time I joked about how I would eventually find an old man on the street and give it away because I wouldn't need it.

Time. We even try to look good telling it. And I keep forgetting, that it doesn't belong to me. No matter how many watches I own, nothing will help me utilise it so fruitfully as to entrust it to God, and faithfully guard the gift I was given.

So I made a decision.


We had wanted to meet for a long time- this Singaporean lady, a missionary to Nepal and one of the caregivers for the Nepalese orphans, had housed me during part of my stay there. When I stayed at her place in Nepal, we were shocked to discover we had the same birth date. She is just three years my senior, 24 years of age, and had dedicated her life to loving and serving the poor and needy. I almost felt God telling me He had created this special woman on the same date as me, to go before me as an example of how I may serve people and Him in the future, fulfilling that same calling. She is a simple lady. Missionaries hardly spend on themselves. I remember the watch she wore the last time I saw her. It had a faded face, and a cheap strap. She, however, was beautiful, bubbly as always.

Time. I remember how it was in the most uncertain and frustrating of times, that the missionaries always taught me to trust God with it.

"So what's been up with you?" She asked.

I shared with her about my enjoyable time studying in the hospital, about my healing from the illness, the Kitesong CD, about what God had been whispering to me about Time and His beautiful timing. Spot-on, as always.

And then I told her about my watch, about how I had learnt about Patience and Waiting, about how the price of my watch had inflated but that I hadn't the need for it because I only needed a cheap functional watch with twelve divisions that was of use for my patients, about how I went specially to the shop to get it re-polished and tweaked so I could give it away to someone who needed a fancy dinner watch more than I did...

... and that someone placed in my thoughts and heart over the last few weeks was... her.


" I just hope you don't mind that I've worn it before, but I really just want to bless you with it because of all you've taught me about servitude and humility and loving others. I felt so strongly to give this to you, and I really hope it fits you."

I put it on her wrist, right next to her cheap, faded watch which she had bought at a flea market in Nepal. It fit perfectly.

Her eyes widened in shock and gratitude. And for a moment, we just sat in smiling silence, in the humidity of a coffeeshop, over simple food, and basked in the richness and expanse of Time.

"Thank you so much for sharing," she said. "I really needed to hear that. And now, every time I look at this watch, it will always remind me about what you said, to trust God always, and not to be anxious about my future."

Time.

We attach all its value in the second and minute hand of an overpriced watch. Perhaps we are the ones who need to put less value on an accessory on our wrists, who need to humble ourselves and give up trying to overtake it, who need to put our eyes on what's Up there, instead of taking anxious downward glimpses all the time.

But let's for a moment, perhaps, just take our watches off, just for a moment, and watch Time go by over milk and jam and scones on a lazy afternoon, and remember that we needn't worry, that we needn't be anxious, that we can live every moment to its fullest without bringing the fretful future into today simply because-

- It's all in His hands.


Right on schedule, as always.

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also He has put eternity in their hearts, except that no one can find out the work that God does from beginning to end."

- Ecclesiastes 3:11

Nuffnang Gift Ideas Contest

Now blogging this past few days has been so much fun. There is just so many prizes up for grabs and gosh I think i've never been any more hardworking than any time throughout the year in updating my blog.

So, here's for this contest.

Its been a long time ever since I joined the Real Rewards membership which I joined through its Realmart website,


i've been swapping my card at just about every place that accepts for the collection of Real Rewards (RR) points. With most times at Petronas Petrol Stations. That's the reason why I frequently go to Petronas and not any other station.



I've been collecting so many points that the only thing I cannot remember is redeeming anything from them.

Not even ONE gift!

Not even a small leather bag from RealMART to keep my precious realrewards card!


NOTHING!!

That's because until today I have not collected enough points for the things that I want most which would take me about 50 years to collect enough RR points which by then,



I wouldn't have lived long enough to redeem anything from it leaving my RR points in my account in the system for all eternity never to be redeemed again!

Now, coming back to this contest, I noticed after reading 203 blogs who joined this contest,

that's right guys!203 NUFFNANGER BLOGGERS!!

203 Nuffnangers who all have one thing in common. Do you want to know what that is???

NOBODY GOD DAMN GAVE ME A PRESENT!!NOT EVEN ONE BLOGGER!! That truely show's how popular i am..sad case...

If that was bad enough, even my dear friend of 24 years of friendship did not even bother to give me a present through this simple giveaway contest!! With one present to giveaway now, who could I possibly give it to??

Now if you have continued reading from the start, giving a present away and choosing someone is a very difficult decision for me. Especially for someone who is up to saving enough Real Rewards Points for 50 years to redeem it for himself the things he loved most.

But I have thought about it clearly over the weeks and with only 2 more hours to the deadline for this contest, I have made up my mind to whom I should give my gift.

If there was anything, it cannot go wrong after knowing a person for such a very long time.

He is none other than Timothy Tiah.



Now that we've grown so big with you already being a fast and successful businessmen ahead of all our time, I think its about time we took our friendship to the next level.

I'm giving you this!A CEO Toy that I found in Realmart website.



Its time we play Tic Tac Toe the Men's way. The Royal Selangor Pewter Way. I could always remember the days gwhen we played it on paper but I guess we've passed that.



I hope I have made the right choice. Why do I still feel one sided in this trade-off. Why is this poor person giving the boss something so expensive? Shouldn't it be the other way around??

DAMMIT!!Where's my gift??I WANT IT NOW!!!

My Experience in the World Cyber Games

Just awhile ago, I was shocked to find that my blog (that has remained unknown for the longest time I could ever remember) has just received a huge phenomenal hike in visits.

Its so incredibly huge that if celebrity bloggers like Ringo



and Cindy



were not able to attend the Nuffnang Sharing session at Italiannies this coming Sunday,




they knew they could count on me to share my recent blogging "experience" of celebrity-like. That is if good looks, boobs, and hot legs were not part of the requirement.

If there was any benefit of inviting me as Guest Blogger, I could share with you my experience at a Mamak Stall over some Roti rather than over Cabonara



which could ruin your night out with Ringo and Cindy if not eaten properly.

I mean "ewwww". You know how difficult sometimes it can get to eat infront of hot girls and talk at the same time what more with the uncertainty of forking out the spaghetti noodles out from the plate the right way hoping that they would not notice how "Chinapek" you really are..I think you get what I mean.

While all that's not ever going to happen, looks like i'm going to share with you my recent experience last Saturday on my blog while i'm experiencing this unusual rain of visits. At least don't go until you read this post. I BEG YOU!!I BEG YOU!!

Last Saturday, while our National Hero Lee Chong Wei was on his last step to winning Malaysia's first badminton Gold Medal in Olympics 2008 in China,


Back in Kuala Lumpur Mid-Valley Megamall Exhibition Center, there was a whole different game going on.



It was the World Cyber Games 2008.

(Picture from Timothy)

The Olympics of computer games that is filled with world class gamers coming from all over the world whom at least experienced lots of scolding and attempts of disownment by their parents if not disowned as well.

I was there to see and experience what was happening at the World Cyber Games and of course to also see whether I could fit a 32" LVD TV from Samsung on my empty table at the end of the day.

If there was any real good reason why I should experience all the things I did in my previous post before I left for Mid-Valley, I wanted to make sure that I got the 32" TV for my mother to let her know that all those years of sitting infront of the computer did not go to waste. For all those years that I was playing Worms and CS that has destroyed part of my life, at least I hope I would be able to show her that those years of playing games was not for nothing.


But I guess since games is out for me(retired), thanks to Samsung and Nuffnang, I've got to blog my way for it.

I hope this saddening but pretty true story would help me win this 32" LCD. I can't help but think that nobody out there needs it more than I do.

So, coming back to the World Cyber Games, I was there to see through to the finals of a mini-CS competition held at one of the Samsung Booth



where 8 Nuffnang blogger teams (Nuffnang team included) with a requirement of at least ONE female player in each team will compete with each other.

The finals was between the Nuffnang Team (Wahh not bad aeh, must have practiced it at work!!), and Ben Chan team.

I don't know about you, but I thought that the odds of winning was far greater at the Nuffnang Team side with 9 wins and 1 more to go. Thinking it was more exiciting to watch the winning side to see how they whipped the asses of their opponent, I saw otherwise.

They lost to a score of 10-0, and 10-1. If you tell me the opponent did not study Counter-Strike back in high school, please CORRECT ME NOW!!

Now there were other things going on there besides the mini-CS Competition.

The World Cyber Games competition was being held here.



This is where the BIG BOYS play!!BOYS who are serious in showing their parents that playing games all their lives was not for NOTHING!!Nuff said...I mean hey...WORLD COMPETITION YOU KNOW!!!

If there was anything, these are the guys who bring their own keyboard, mouse, and earphones.

So, leaving them aside, let me show you what else was happening there.

Here's something impressive. There was a PC on display running 6 19" Samsung Screens smoothly altogether.


Its so powerful here let me show you this...


ITS SO POWERFUL NOBODY CAN POSSIBLY TELL YOU THE PRICE!!

Then there was also F1 racing competition through a computer game for those who lets face it, there are not many things we can experience in this one lifetime.



There was also a Guitar Competition for people who umm...can't play the REAL guitar in real life.



And when you thought the rest of us who were not doing anything like playing games were bored, you were wrong.

we were entertained with music by a band that were almost as good as Avril Lavigne.


She was really good!



As the clock strikes 4pm, it was time for the prize-giving ceremony for the best blog entries of "My Favourite Computer Game of All-Time".

I won for Samsung's favourite post which gives me a Blueteeth MP3 Player YP-S5. Blogger Soo Chooi Leang won most creative entry that gives him a Samsung Camera.

and when it came to Timothy Tiah, who won not just Funny, but most FUNNIEST ENTRY which gives him the 32" LCD TV FROM SAMSUNG.

HE GAVE IT AWAY!!

The emcee was like saying: -
"WHY!! THE 32" LCD TV YOU DON'T WANT TO TAKE AH!! TOO SMALL FOR YOU IZZIT??"

Let me show you how big 32" LCD TV is.



Anyway, the 32" LCD TV is now up for grabs again and gosh, maybe you know, Its FATE really. The TV really wants to be with the person who needs it!!You know who right??RIGHT??

Staring at the TV for awhile, I can tell, he would have loved to have that TV. Must have sucked being Timothy for a day!


Well after Tea, Timothy decided that those who'd like the TV should post pictures of themselves together with Samsung Girls and blog about it. The best entry would win of course.

What do you think we did??

Soon, the Samsung Girls with Blue Hair



were as popular as the Spice Girls.



Everyone went back to the exhibition center and was taking pictures with them like crazy.


I tried a James Bond post though. What a failure!



All I can say is, HOW COULD WE HAVE POSSIBLY NEGLECTED THE SAMSUNG GIRLS ALL THIS WHILE FOR GAMES!!!

oh right...its not just any game, Its WORLD CYBER GAMES!!