Open wide and say 'Aah....'
...TCHOO!
*snifflesnort*
*wipewipewipe*
AA...ATCHOO!
Not nice, this. I've been three weeks with this lousyXYZABCHantu of a cold. Slowly, all too slowly, I have been getting better.
I want better NOW!On a related note, Googling
'hingus,' gets some unsurprisingly bizarre results. Hingus on the BM wikipedia gets
five results, while in Bahasa Indonesia, there is nothing to be found:
'ingus' is closest.
Nobody really cares for snot, I suppose.
The Blog(u) 14: Shooting stars
plink’s meeting with Master Viewtru was deeply unsettling, both for what it revealed and what remained hidden. Leaving the bustling metropolis behind, plink hurried across the badlands towards the Hall of the King. As she traveled, the little one pondered the things she had learned and the things she had not.
It was possible to see the Fear and Doubt of others. Master Viewtru had seen hers well enough.
‘If you see them, they see you.’ plink’s Fear and Doubt did not take kindly to being seen.
‘It is also possible to defeat them,’ thought plink. Master Viewtru only spoke one word and his power was such that the four evils were dispatched each time. All plink needed was to find the source of such power, but the Jedi Master was unable to help.
‘What is the use of all that power then?’ plink wondered.
‘What use indeed?’ Fear barred the path ahead. plink knew then without looking that the four evils were around her.
‘You are still going to blog?’ It was almost an accusation.
‘No, I am only going to the Hall of the King,’ plink replied but Fear would not be deceived.
‘You will go nowhere. It ends here.’
The knowledge plink had gained from the Ghost Hunter and the Third Man came back quickly. Knowing what was to come, plink danced lightly aside as the four evils struck. Razor-sharp claws glinted in the cold sunlight as they tore at the air where plink had been.
Calmly, she countered with the full force of her knowledge. plink's feather-light touch moved with the speed born of practice and all four evils were thrown back.
Warily they circled, just out of plink’s reach. The little one’s head was bowed and her eyes closed as she prepared for their next move. While she waited, plink felt each of the blows she had struck throb uncomfortably in her own body.
The evil four moved again, fangs and claws bared. plink countered swiftly with all the knowledge she could muster. When she was done, all five of them lay immobile in the dirt. The desert wind swept, cold and dry, over them. plink felt nothing, only she knew that none could move because of what she had done.
A rasping groan that sounded like her own voice came to plink's ears and she looked to see Fear struggling to its feet. Alarmed, plink clenched her power and burned away her wounds. Knowledge and strength raced through her veins as plink regained her feet and started towards the four evils. To her alarm, they too rose from the ground, bearing no trace of the battle that had just happened.
‘What happens to one of us…’ Verbiage wagged a disapproving finger.
‘…Happens to us all.’ finished Bombast, with a malicious smirk.
A vast cloud of familiar grey moths appeared suddenly over the four. ‘You’re not the only one with ideas around here, plink.’ As the moths burst brightly into flame, plink raised ideas of her own.
Shooting stars, plink was reminded of shooting stars. The winding paths of fiery moths arching over the field towards her, burning with the light of ideas, was very pretty. Her own shooting stars, flying towards the four evils, were just as nice.
Sparks and blinding explosions of eye-searing colours shook air and ground alike where the ideas came together. The detonations and shards of light burned and crackled in the space between them for a time. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, the rolling thunder of their disagreement came inexorably closer to plink. She had lost.
The light of ideas was beautiful and blindingly intense. plink wondered, as the incandescent hail came towards her, if she would ever see it again.
The Blog(u) 13: No hate, no anger, nor….
It was much later, at the local kopitiam, when plink was well enough to ask the Jedi Master
Viewtru, ‘How did you know? You’re the first person to see it.’
‘Them,’ he corrected her.
‘You saw all of them?!’
‘Fear made the first move, but they were all there.’
‘But how…?’
‘It’s a gift. Of course, you see them and they see you.’
‘Why did Fear attack you?’
‘Only you know the answer, plink. And if you are Peranakan Blogstalker, it is very important that you find out.’
‘Important enough to hit me for?’ she demanded, pulling back the sleeve of her smock. ‘See?! That bruise will take forever to heal!’
viewtru looked away, muttering frantically. ‘A Jedi shall know no hate, nor anger… nor the inside of a little girl’s dress.’
‘This is so wrong.’ He growled more firmly. ‘Put that away, we have more important things to discuss.’
‘This is important and we’re not discussing anything until you’ve apologized.’
‘Bloody peasant….’
‘What?!’
‘I said I’m trying to be pleasant. *whew*’
‘Yes, o Master Whewtru.’
‘Look, Fear is a part of you, as are all the others.’
‘So?’
‘Think, plink, think.’ Viewtru rubbed at his temples in exasperation. ‘Whatever is done to one of you, the others will also feel.’
‘Look, mister….’
‘I hit Fear and all of you felt it. Understand?’
‘Cheesin! Where got such stewpid things like that one? You think I was bornyesterdaychunchoybodohtiadaakalsiaoginnah izzit?
Then she felt Master Viewtru strike her again. ‘Aiyak! Lose argument oredi, don’t be such a poor sportlah, can or…’ and plink suddenly stopped as Verbiage’s depairing scream trailed away into the distance. She looked at the Jedi Master, whose single raised eyebrow spoke volumes.
plink looked again inside her dress. ‘Yioh! This is going to take forever-times-two to heal….’
The Blog(u) 12 : Peranakan BlogSiaper?
'There are bloggers who develop such power as to seem unnatural.'
‘Is it possible to learn this power?'
'Not… from a Jedi.'
plink thought about that for a while. There she was, sat at a theatre, watching a play about power, greed, friendship, adversity and endurance with no less than a Jedi Master sat next to her. There must have been enough concentrated knowledge and wisdom that she could find out how to blog well.
‘You’re a Jedi Master.’
‘Yes.’
‘With you, the impossible is possible.’
‘Yes….’
‘You’re also a top-grade blogger.’
‘Well….’
‘Just say yes.’
‘OK, yes….’
‘You wrote this
3-in-1 Kung Fu Girl play.’
‘Yes.’
‘So how do I do it?’
‘Not from a Jedi,’
Master Viewtru repeated patiently. Sensing plink’s rising anxiety, he quickly continued, ‘Control your fear, little one. For fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate. And hate is….’
‘…the door to the Dark Side,’ a chillingly familiar whisper came from behind plink’s right ear. Fear’s small, clawed hand reached across her towards Viewtru.
‘Master Viewtru!’ plink exclaimed, but the Jedi was ahead of her. Fixing the space behind plink with an icy stare, he spoke a single word. That word struck her full in the chest, but as she lay winded in her seat, plink heard Fear’s howl of frustration as she spun away to some unimaginable void.
‘Fear, I believe?’ viewtru lay a comforting hand on the trembling peasant. plink could only nod mutely in reply.
The Wheel of Fortune
I've just been passed over for the current round of promotions. And why not? No point going for the jobs if I'm not ready. It does give me another four months, plus the incidental promotion that occasionally comes up when people get promoted/trip/fall/break stuff.
So here's to another term at the office, with juniors coming, snapping at my heels.
I am the best. I know it, everyone knows it. In four months, when I am ready to move, I will do so.
And when I do, only the heavens can stop me.
The Blog(u) 11: plink in the City
Slightly abuzz with Ghoul’s words of encouragement, plink continued on her journey to the Hall of The King. Skipping merrily along the path that led through the fields, plink eventually came to a city.
plink had heard of cities before, that they were dangerous, busy places best avoided by simple folk. Looking beyond the city to the mountains beyond, then out to the side where the city stretched away endlessly, plink saw that she would have to go through the city to get to the Hall.
The city was very crowded. It seemed that everyone was off to someplace else and was always in a great hurry. Being small of stature, plink was nearly trampled several times and despite it not being her fault, also got shouted at. Large vehicles, some with wheels and others floating it seemed, on a cushion of light, rumbled noisily past.
She hurried away from the streets and ducked into a theatre, where she found an empty seat in an alcove. Settling into the plush cushions, plink craned her neck to peer over the balcony at the stage below. The programme in her hands identified the play as ‘
3-in-1 Kung Fu Girl,’ and while plink was reading it, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that someone else had followed her into the alcove.
The figure in the dark robe approached plink. Bowing politely, he introduced himself. 'I am Master
Viewtru of the Jedi Council.’
Struck dumb by the sense of awesome power that hovered about this mysterious person, plink barely remembered to return his greeting.
Master Viewtru's face betrayed his momentary confusion. 'Are you not the one who will bring balance to the blogosphere?'
'Who?' plink too was confused.
'Are you not the Peranakan Blogstalker?'
Seratus! Manyak terrer oi....
This is the hundredth post on what is now Delima Kasih. Who'd have thought that when I started out just before
Merdeka 2005 that it'd come to this?
Who's a talkative little plink, then?
From silliness involving
tea and
chilli, to
cannibalism and madness with
doctors and
accountants, this blog has seen much. Which is pretty good, considering my
eyesight.
Then there's the long-running
true story of how a little plink came to blog.
A big
Delima Kasih to everyone!
The Blog (u) 10: Close Encounters
The night was warm, friendly even. Crickets filled the air with summer evensong and the flashing lights of ideas winked in their millions throughout the blogfields.
plink communed with the mass of living lightning, breathing thought into life and life into thought. After another idea was set free to play with other blinking lights, plink felt herself being watched.
Brandishing an especially bright idea, plink spun around and gasped in astonishment. The thing that watched her was quite simply not there. It was not darkness, for that would have been something. There was, quite literally, nothing before her.
‘I am Ghoul,’ said the mysterious, formless being.
‘What do you want?’ plink demanded, holding the flame higher.
‘I am stalking you.’
‘Why? Haven’t you got other bloggers to stalk? Besides, my own blog isn’t ready yet.’
‘Yes, but I happen to like it.’
plink was stunned. She had done little more than think a few thoughts and write a few comments. Yet someone, or this particular no one, had noticed. It took a while for the idea to sink in, so while plink blinked in confusion, Ghoul pointed out the bright idea in her hand. ‘That one is nice.’
‘Is it that good?’ plink turned it this way and that. The ovoid mass of singing lightning looked like any other to her. It was a bright idea certainly, but it was an idea, just like all the others.
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Ghoul shook his head. Then, without knowing how it was possible, she heard Ghoul frown in concentration. ‘We stalkers don’t judge,’ he began. ‘What we do is approve.’
‘I don’t understand,’ plink confessed.
‘I’m stalking you because I like your ideas. It would be nice if you were good, but the main thing is that I like the stuff you put out.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
plink squealed, clapping her hands together in delight. Impulsively, she threw her arms around Ghoul, only to find nobody to embrace.
‘Sorry, I’m not all here,’ Ghoul offered by way of apology. ‘You could say I’m feeling a little empty right now.’
Then he stepped back. ‘Be well, plink. We shall meet again.’
Hair Bad Day
I was at a conference last week. A group of delegates came up to me during the photo frenzy at the end of the day. Agreeing to their request for photographs with me, I was taken completely by surprise by the next one.
'Wah... hair so nice. Can touch or not?'
Sure, why not? I'm not worried in the slightest about personal space. Go knock yourself out. Want me to do it for you?
This fresh guy was really asking for it. I swear, I was
this close (I..I) to... well, let's just leave it to the imagination.
Let's just say that
this would have been pleasant by comparison.
The Blog(u) 9: The Third Gear.
The
Third Man winced as his sleek, silver car lurched around the corner. He turned to look behind. Behind where he sat was the engine, a masterpiece of technology and artistry. It was a living thing that breathed through twelve silver trumpets, making a swirling mist of petrol fumes in that inch above them. Through the sunlit, rainbow-coloured haze, he saw the corner they had just passed. Although the bend was gentle, black tyre-marks carving through it were not.
The car lurched again. From behind, the engine protested shrilly, in much the same tone as the tyres on the road.
‘Let’s try that again,’
he said as impassively as he could manage.
plink frowned under the brim of her crash helmet. The dark arts of double-clutch heel’n’toe were difficult to master, but she was determined to get the hang of it.
And then they were off again.
‘Right,’ plink muttered under her breath. ‘Fourth gear, brake into the corner. Clutch in, swing out the right heel and blip the throttle….’ And the car heeled over spitefully once more, tearing stubbornly at the tarmac.
Much later, with the
Third Man driving, plink saw how it was really done.
‘Practice,’ he said. ‘Practice is all it really is.’
‘But I know how it’s done!’ plink protested.
‘And the difference between you, me and the Ghost Hunter is….’
‘Practice?’
‘Exactly!’ he said, throwing the car emphatically into a corner and plink felt the laws of physics draw her firmly towards the window.
‘Fourth gear, here comes the corner!’ The
Third Man was grinning broadly in the passenger seat.
‘Brake hard, clutch in. Heel swing and blip throttle.’ The grumpy mass of metal behind started to sing angelically in time to plink’s little feet.
‘Third gear, clutch out,’ and there was no lurch.
‘Ease off brake and turn in.’ The tyres started to sing too, the deep basso rumble contrasting sharply with soprano notes of loosening grip.
‘Add throttle to the mix….’
‘Apex and exit!’
Sunset over the
Third Man’s blogfield was breathtaking. As the stars came out over the eastern sky, the light in the west faded. Gentle reds gave way to purples and blues higher in the sky, the colours broken by a thin line of cloud.
‘You have learned much today.’
‘Or perhaps not. Technical mastery is not knowledge alone, but comes from practice also.’
The Third Man patted the little one’s shoulder, then he pointed to the fading light of the mountains. ‘There in the mountains lives a king who is very wise. There is much yet you could learn from him.’
‘I will go,’ said plink. ‘I
must go.’
And the light of ideas swirled joyously overhead as plink continued her journey.
Siaran Tergendala Sebentar
The landscape is cool and grey. Nothing moves, even the air is still. In front, there is a lake, its face mirror-calm.
Without so much as a ripple, something arises from the depths.
A little figure in a white smock rises in the water to stand on its surface. Straight black hair obscures her face as she comes to shore. She proffers a small boxlike object, a VCD case as she approaches.
Tripping over the hem of her smock, plink falls over.
Picking herself up and brushing herself down, she offers the VCD again.
'Next episode coming soon. Promise.'
Stalkers....
'...
It is
often harder
to satisfy
Stalkers than
it is to fend off Trolls....'
There's plenty left to go yet. Watch this space.
Akan Datang *jengjengjeng*
'This is the deal: you see them, they see
you.'
'You cannot escape: we own you.'
'
Siao!Where got people drink teh halia want extra halia waan?!?!'
'What's the deal with the red dress? It's not like I'm getting married or anything, right?
RIGHT?!?!'
De-what?!
Before the legions of readers (all three of them) that arrive here by mistake decide to jump into the sea in despair, allow me to provide some background.
Originally intended to be full of venom and general evil, this blog has been a disappointment in that respect. With the Blog(u) series, it became an exercise in narcissism.
From Nah!See? to a White and Yellow Flower, the daffodil or narcissus.
The more I look at life, the more I love it. It is precious, priceless and there isn't enough time to do wasteful things like hate and whine.
Thank you dear readers.
*tabik*
If I was to carry on, there would not be enough space to list all the things and people I want to thank. I'll have to stop here.
Delima: ruby/berlian/diamond.
Kasih: love
Delima kasih: Thank you / The precious stone of love, ever-enduring.
Thank you.
The Blog(u) 8: Ghost Hunter
Serenity, calm, unity. The little one sat cross-legged in meditation before the
Ghost Hunter. The dancing lights of plink’s thought swirled in intricate patterns over her dark hair, etching mysterious designs on her brow. Lightning pulsed in the lights, swelling and fading in time with plink's breathing.
Sat across from her was the
Ghost Hunter, with his own thoughts similarly aflame. As plink opened her eyes, he asked, ‘What did you see?’
‘Infinity. It stretched away forever, yet all of it was with me.’
‘What did you feel?’
‘Empty.’ The little one struggled to describe her feelings. ‘I had much to say, but not about anything in particular.’
The
Ghost Hunter nodded, ‘You’re a blunt one, I see. Most people hide this from themselves.’ He gestured at the inside of his training hall.
‘This is a blogfield, much like any other.’
plink saw the light of ideas swirling around racks of weaponry, the
Hunter’s library and even the bonsais poised on his writing desk. The little one looked to the Hunter, who nodded his assent and she went over to the library.
A slim, leather-bound volume seemed almost to leap into plink’s hands as she reached for it. The glow of its thought was blinding and plink turned away as it fell open, its pages turning rapidly. In the sound of pages turning, the book spoke directly to the little mind. Its voice was gentle and firm as the wind. It taught and plink understood.
‘
Ghost Hunter,’ she called to her teacher. ‘I understand now. I must seek knowledge and master it.’
‘My task is nearly complete.’ The
Ghost Hunter reappeared with another book in his hands. ‘The arts of
double-clutch heel’n’toe and of defending yourself are contained therein. Now go forth. The Third Man awaits.’
Rain? Take a bow.
Storm clouds covered the sky this morning. The air was heavy with anticipation.
Then I saw a rainbow. The clouds were low, so I didn't see the middle. Both ends were bright and pretty in the sunrise though.
