PhD, Moths, and General Updates.

Hey ya'll

It's been a while and to skip the formalities of my apologizing profusely for my lack of updates, let's just get to the point now shall we? The month of March has perhaps been one of the most event-filled months in my life (and we're only talking the first week here!). The commencement of my enrolment into the PhD program at Monash University has left me up to my neck with work, and the increasing pressure to immerse myself in the Indigenous communities of Peninsular Malaysia (out of self interest but also as a principal component of my research) has meant that I have been driving up and down the peninsular (Literally!) to attend events, festivals, or just (as some anthropologists would say) "scope out the possible sites".  While it is always good to keep busy, and it is a very amazing and humbling experience to interact with some very empowered members of these communities, I really do wish I would be able to take a break every once in awhile.

However, not all is exactly unwell. In fact, you could say something very exciting has happened. Our dear friend, Khalid Fadil (you must remember him as I have mentioned him here on more than one occasion) has been very kind in that he has offered us a very generous donation to our butterfly and moth collection. And by generous I do not mean just one or two envelopes with nice things in them (although that would have been more than I would have asked for!), I'm talking about an entire box filled with envelopes of papered specimens that I literally pick out from a box!!! It was like a lepidoptera buffet, and I had an all-you-can-eat pass! Indeed it was more about resisting the temptation to just grab the entire box and go than it was about choosing only the ones I really want and have the skill to spread, besides (I'm afraid an amateur like me will do more damage than justice to the wings of the very small microlepidoptera). As you can imagine I'll have quite a lot to share within the coming weeks. A literal treasure trove!

Khalid's very kind, and very generous donation to my personal collection.

Cheers,
Cyren.

One Dream to Change the World.

Hey ya'll 

An old friend, with whom I've admittedly not always seen eye to eye with, posted a message on my Facebook account recently. In it, she told me she experienced a rather lucid dream where she and I were walking down the street. As we made our journey down a nondescript road, she began to realize that something was different around her. The advertisements on all the billboards, the posters plastered in front of all the shops, were catered to non-straight people. And she realized, all of a sudden, that she been suddenly transported into a world where the heterosexual matrix no longer held sway. I suppose it was all so disconcerting to her, and the feeling was all the more compounded by the dream's lucidity, and suddenly she began to understand what it was like to live in a world where she was the obvious minority. Everything that she had taken for granted to apply to "everyone", day-to-day things like advertisements and the sorts of messages/ideologies they carried, are not as "universal" as They would like us to think. 

The dream ended there, or if there was more she did not tell me, but it was eye opening enough to cause her to do something about it. Firstly, to tell me about the dream. But more importantly, to extend a hand of support. She told me she admired my courage, for being who I am, indeed for even just living, in a world that is so much structured in a way that I am not. It cannot possibly be easy. Indeed, it is hardly ever. At the end of the post, she said, "I may not always understand you, or what you are going through. But I want you to know that I am now for you." And that said it all. Because that's what we really want isn't it? We don't need the whole world to understand us, or what makes us tick. Heck I've known my family for my entire life and I still don't know what makes them tick sometimes. What more an entire community! All we're asking for is the same acceptance and community that is extended to everyone else, regardless of race, sexuality, gender, or culture, as fellow HUMAN BEINGS. 

The post was removed several hours later, despite garnering a flood of "likes" from fellow Facebook users, and when I tried to search for her account to thank her personally, I realized that the following user no longer exists. I don't know what happened, and I could be reading too much into this... but if, for whatever reason this might have happened, I would just like you to know; that I may not always understand your point of view, or are able to accept all you have been taught to believe. but I want you to know that I am for you, and other's like you. People like you make it possible, for people like us to be courageous. People like you help make things a lot easier, make us feel a lot less scared. But most importantly, people like you give us Hope; the most powerful thing anyone can have in the world. Hope for a better future, Hope for a brighter tomorrow, Hope of acceptance, Hope that all our dreams and ambitions are more than just that. Whether we know it or not, Hope is what powers many of us and pulls us through when we are at our lowest. People like you, have given us that. It is never too late to extend your hand of acceptance, regardless of whether or not you currently understand. I do not, for example, have to understand everything about your spirituality, to know, accept, and embrace you as a fellow human being equally deserving of the same rights and dignities I have. 

Thank you.

The Promise of a New Year

Every new year comes with an unspoken promise: the promise of a new beginning. It is this promise of a clean slate upon which we can rebuild our lives that give many people hope for the coming year. For many people around the world, the 31st of December marks more than just the complete passage of the Earth around the sun, indeed, it also marks the moment when anything seems possible, a time when they can pull their lives together, maybe even pick up some of the pieces that they have left out during the previous year, or perhaps even rediscover certain dreams that have laid cold and buried out of necessity. Christmas is a holiday that is often associated with the family, but New Year's Eve is for the individual.

As the clock draws closer to 12 midnight on the 31st of December, people have already begun to take to the streets. From what I hear on the radio, roads all over the city are beginning to become congested. Some, like the ones in Kuala Lumpur would be closed entirely in anticipation for the big night. Others, like the highways for instance, are no doubt jam-packed with revelers who are trying to get to various locations. Not me though, I've got other things to worry about right now, like a certain missing jacket that I wish to wear tonight, for example, and how on earth am I going to finish writing this before it is time for me to go out?!

But even as I dash about the modest confines of my home in search of this pair of jeans or that pair of shorts, I cannot help but contemplate over some of the things that I have achieved this past year.  Needless to say, finding Ray (and on my birthday too!) was one of the highlights of 2011. Not a day has gone by since I met him that I did not feel completely happy or, if I wasn't, he wasn't there to make sure that I was. And what of some of the bad things too? Things I'd given up, for example, or perhaps resolved to do at the start of 2011 but not taken the effort to attain? There was the MPAC production of Mamma Mia that I dropped out of, I suppose, and also the auditions for Pixies the Musical that I passed on because I was afraid I would not have enough time... And a lot of other things I'm sure, that I resolved to do at the start of 2011 but did not, which begs the question: why make these resolutions in the first place?

I contemplate this as I crawl under the bed (all the while forcing myself to fit into a pair of jeans I've not worn in over half a year!) in search of that jacket, and even as I factor the time it will take to vacuum the dust off the garment (should I find it) before it will be presentable enough for me to wear out on new year's eve, I begin to realize that 'hope' was precisely the reason why people made resolutions and why the new year's eve has come to hold such a special place in human tradition. Telling yourself you will do something, is just another way of promising yourself that things will get better, and that your life will be slightly bereft of some of the nasty mistakes you've made in the past. Of course, whether this actually works out the way you resolve it to be is an entirely different issue altogether, but the essence of the resolution remains: "here's something to hope for, with the coming of the new year!" and in all honesty, what do we have to live for (especially in those, most troubling moments in life) if not for "hope" of a better future? Why do we keep on living, if not for the implicit (however self-imposed) promise that someday we can forge a better future for ourselves?

I find my jacket eventually, relatively dust-free, underneath a pile of old and (up till then) forgotten items from a regretful past and I can appreciate the irony that something I would be wearing in a few hours time to usher in the promise of a New Year was shielded from the 'decay' of time by non-other than the 'mistakes' of my past. As cli-che'd as this might sound, I suppose our mistakes really do protect our future, just as long as we keep on moving forward.

As I apply the finishing touches of wax that will keep my hair perfectly sculpted amidst the festivities tonight, I can't help but admit, that it would be great to have a fresh start, or at least the idea of one. To forget for a moment about the mistakes of 2011 (although they would undoubtedly come back to bite me in the butt) and think instead about how I wish 2012 to turn out. Of course, I suppose not all new year's resolutions are meant to come true... but right now it is 7pm on the 31st of December, 2011. And in five hours I'm going to be out there with the rest of the world, dressed in so much glitter and tinsel (that can ever, only be appropriate for a New Year's attire) screaming at the top of my lungs, as I count down the ten seconds to the very first moment of 2012, when anything and everything seems possible. 

Everything you do everyday should be something that will lead you to a better tomorrow.

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY!!!

Cheers,
Cyren.

Ray Says: Adventure

In recent news, Kim Jong Il died. But enough about him, this blog is about me and Cyren. Yay!!!

Anyway, I have been a brat to Cy due to my need for constant adventure and excitement. I would pressure him to take me somewhere, travel to a new unknown location and even propose the idea to walk from one end of KL to the other just for the fun of it. Seriously, I can never sit still and just count the minutes that are wasted from my life.


Not wanting to see me moody :P , Cy finally took me somewhere. Budget was of course a problem for poor saps like us so we settled on much more affordable places. Our first destination was Forest Research Institute Malaysia (FRIM). Never heard of it? Surprisingly, I stumbled upon it online as well. So go google. But for ya all's convenience, Imma just describe tiny details of it. As the name says it, it's an institute dedicated for plants and wildlife. It is mostly trees and fresh air there. There's even a mini waterfall. I would dip my feet in there if I had brought a towel and worn slippers instead of shoes. (Note: The place ain't meant for people who can't walk 500m without fainting).



Next, we went to Genting Highlands. Yayyyyy~~~~ ya...not much of an excitement but it was our first time there. Though everything is atrociously and inhumanely expensive, the cool air rejuvenated our mind and body. And, that was about it for Genting. Again, we are poor saps.



Lastly, we had a scrumptious meal in Shabu One. Though we always overtake what we can stuff down our throat, I love it there still. It is one of the few places where I can truly be satisfied with my meal. That's how we end our day together. =3 Wish we can do all the time but these fantasies happen once in a while which make them even more special.

Toodle-oo~

I don't even know you anymore!

The biggest surprises in life often come when we least expect them. But I suppose that that is, by its very definition, a surprise. Similarly, just when you thought you've settled down with someone, been in the perfect relationship, met the right guy, something comes up like a gigantic hurricane and blows your entire world away. And suddenly just like that, you are left standing there all alone and insecure, unsure if everything you've known about your partner over the past year were truths, lies, or even worse: truths that you've made up because you had so desperately wanted to see them in that way to begin with.  

It seems like such a strange twist of fate, when two people who lived with each other for so long, and had so much time to get to know each other, would sometimes inevitably find themselves plunged into a state of complete and utter mis-recognization. Several days ago, a conversation with Ray left me wondering whether I truly knew him during the one year we've been together or not?  I was quite certain that he still loved me a lot, and I knew that was also how I still felt about him and yet... that one new piece of information divulged seemed to bother me a lot. Almost as if it were a huge betrayal that slapped me across the cheeks. I took a while off of course, for me to reel from the force of the blow, but I also used that time to give a thought on why this might be so.

I eventually came to the conclusion that while we're so preoccupied with the question of "how much do I really know about my partner?" perhaps we first need to look a little closer and answer the question of "how much do I know myself?"  Perhaps to adequately situate our knowledge of the ones we love we must first ourselves.  Staying true to the anthropology tradition, I decided to test this out for myself and took a couple of days off to think things through. The result of ninety six hours of soul-searching and navel-gazing later: I came up with one irrefutable fact: that what we are simply what we are at any given moment. Which is to say, that everything about ourselves is always changing... right?  In other words I began to realize that although I may think I know myself now, what I "know" may not necessarily be the same several days down the road (or even hours later, after I get the backlash of publishing this post). More importantly, I came to the conclusion that if I'm having as much trouble understanding myself as I was understanding Ray, well, perhaps he was going through some difficulty comprehending me too. After all, all our partners can ever know about us, are all we know (or come to know) about ourselves. 

So perhaps the truth is, no matter how long we live with a person, how many times we tell them "I love you", or snuggle up to them in bed, we never really get to know that person. All we know are a bunch of truths, lies, and perhaps even a little bit of the truths that we've made up because we had so desperately wanted to believe in them in the first place. But maybe that is also all we really ever needed to know begin with, and the unease we experience when faced with something unknown is really the fear of instability with regards to something that has come to constitute a very vital and integral part of our lives.

I think I am beginning to realize now, the psychological impact of what people mean when they say "for better, or for worse."  The vows a couple make to each other are not just promises that they will be together forever, they are also the psychic rocks upon which we cling to in the middle of these turbulent seas. They are markers of stability and of continuity that seem to account for the unpredictability of human life. So, I suppose there will always be times when we look at our partners and begin to think to ourselves "How is it that I don't even know you anymore?" but that's not the real question, is it? The real question is "do I want to continue to get to know you, again and again for the rest of my life?"  And I did.

Cheers,

Cyren

Telepathy: or why doesn't he know what I want???

I did a quick search on the internet this evening and discovered that Google defines "Telepathy" as: the supposed communication of thoughts or ideas by any other means than the known senses. Belatedly I realized that it was precisely the thing that all couples should be equipped with.

Making sacrifices for the person you love is the building block of any relationship. It's the small (or sometimes big!) gesture that tells a person, "I love you, much more than I love that other thing I planned to do." At the same time, sacrifices are supposed to be voluntary. They're supposed to be something, willingly taken upon the individual, that was given up out of love and not necessity. And yet in all honesty, I wonder how many of us out there in supposedly 'happy' and 'healthy' relationships have found ourselves in a position where we eventually lost it over hints that were dropped but not picked up by our partners and significant others? How many times have we ground our teeth in frustration and said to ourselves "he should have known that!" So I suppose it's time for us to just face the facts: not everybody can be so sensitive about their partner's wants and needs.

This is not to say, of course, that those two people would necessarily be incompatible with each other, it just means that one person is perhaps less emphatic than he needs to be, or the other, too emphatic for his own good.  Trying to sum up a person's wants and needs is, even on a regular basis, pretty risky business what more in a relationship when there is so much more at stake. There are just too many variables and so many things that could go wrong; what if you made a wrong guess, for example... or perhaps you were being overly presumptuous when assuming that it would be okay for you to do something, and it turns out that it isn't. I suppose this is why they say communication is the key to any successful relationship. Ideally, we should be able to read each other's thoughts, having lived together and been with a person for such a long time, but that's not how the world works. As such it is always better to hash things out and discuss issues than allowing them to fester internally as a mental illness (it's called a neurosis, or something).

Question is: is that really such a bad thing? So maybe certain sacrifices your partner makes in your relationship aren't all that altruistic anymore because you've had to first hash it out with him, but the truth is also that talking about things helps us learn a lot about our partners from their point of view. In fact, having discussions about things like that, personal things such as an individual's wants and needs, are the building blocks to any successful relationship because it helps both parties grow as individuals as they learn about each other gradually and (sometimes) casually. That being said though, I suppose it would still be quite touching and nice if one party takes the initiative and makes that sacrifice of his own volition every once in awhile. 

Cheers,
Cyren.

I've been chosen for the First Aids Art Collab: 23 day countdown

Hey ya'll !!!

I know I've put things off for such a long time since my previous post but I'm finally nearing the end now and it seems that the storm is just the strongest before we see the rainbow. No matter, as the days go by I grow more and more confident that I am going to make it after all! Who knows, I might even manage to finish this before the month is up!!! In the meantime, do check out PT Foundation's First AIDS art collab.

First AIDS Art Collab is an art book and exhibition project that serves to raise awareness on the issue of AIDS in Malaysia. In just over a month, we received close to 50 artworks from local and international artists answering the call for solidarity with Malaysia's People Living with HIV (PLHIV)
2001 will be the 23rd year since the inception of World AIDS Day. To celebrate, join us as we count down the 23 days to the Malaysian iteration of the worldwide event on the 26th of November. The artworks can also be viewed at our dedicated Tumblr blog here: http://firstaidsartcollab.tumblr.com/. Keep checking it for the other equally awesome artworks that did not make it into the countdown but will be featured in the art book. 


Meanwhile, guess whose artwork was chosen to be in the book as well as Day 10 of the countdown...

Those who live on the margins are like the caterpillars and the butterflies.

A caterpillar is a butterfly. It may not look like it, behave like it or incite the same emotions as it, but it is. A caterpillar is a butterfly, and the world so often forgets that fact. They look at the repulsive little worm, squirming in the dirt, it's blind featureless face, its pulsating and wriggling body, and they are repulsed. They cast out the caterpillar, kill it, stomp it. Employ all sorts of poisons and measure to keep them away. But always, they invite the butterfly. So obsessed are they by its beauty, its grace, the sort of inspiration it incites among the artists and poets alike that they forget that the caterpillar, so similar and yet so different a creature. But that is why they cast it out. So enamored are they, but the butterfly's beauty, that they refuse to embrace the repulsive thing it had come from.

A caterpillar is like a person living on the margins of society. It may not look like one, or act like one or experience the world in the same way as one but it is. Like the caterpillar, we live in the margins. We are a part of something and yet set aside from it. We are the children of the abject, we come from the body of the dominant "self" and yet are so different from it. And so they fear us, because we are constant reminders to them that their secured little notions of their "selves" are perhaps, not as secure as they would like it to be. And so they try to silence us. Beat us. Torment us. Keep us boxed and in our place. Always the "other". But just as the caterpillar who survives will inevitably turn into the butterfly, someday we too shall change.

To those of us who live in the shadow, persevere. Persevere so that someday we can spread our wings. Let our colors shine.

"because these things will change. Can't you feel it now? Those walls that they put up to hold back will fall down."

Can't believe, that something I sketched with a black ink pen and colored in with highlighters will receive such recognition now! Anyway I must say that it is such an honor to be received into this amazing project. CAN'T WAIT TO HAVE A COPY OF THAT BOOK!!! 

Love, and other things

Hey ya'll

Do you know, that I consider myself to be extremely lucky? Lucky in the sense that I believe everything to happen for a reason, though seemingly by chance... that is to say, that although things always happen to the effect of other things happening to which a loose sense of 'purpose' may be served at one point, they always almost takes one by surprise when it happens. Oh I'm sure you know what I mean... like how I met my Ray for instance. Poke'mon. Who'd have thought right? But that's how it went... a meeting that was supposed to take place between me and a friend, who in turn invited his friend (Ray) whom I liked so much. Liked enough, anyway, for me to connive a most cunning and brilliant plant to give him a lift home that night. Indeed, I suppose he must have liked me a whole lot as well because he quite politely declined an offer for a lift home from his other friend, opting instead to follow me. (that, or quite simply, he left his water tank in my car!) But either way, accidental or not, the rest as they say is history. But it is so hard as well, to be in love. So much to have, also means so much to loose. There are moments when I can't help but feel scared, the sharp pang in the middle of my stomach, somewhere beneath my solar plexus, accompanied almost by the characteristic bitter tang at the back of my mouth, whenever I think of what it would be like to loose him. It's scary you know, and I know some of you may have trouble digesting this, but people like us have feelings for our loved ones too, and those feelings are - if not more - exactly the same sort of feelings you may have for yours. Anyway, I'm coming up with something really special for Ray, to mark half a year of us being together (when time is short, time is all you have!) and I really wanna discuss it at length here, and ask for all of your opinion as well... but seeing as to how we share this blog now, I guess it will have to be a surprise for all.

Thoughts on Hermaphroditism

Hey ya'll!!!

So I am supposed to be writing an essay on hermaphroditism right now and the lived experienced and embodied gendered identities of inter-sexed individuals when my thoughts were naturally drawn to the previous incident regarding the gynamdromorphic butterfly, that had become a small-time celebrity attraction at the London Museum of Natural History (you may click the link to read more on that). As is only expected, this was because hermaphroditism in butterflies are quite rare, supposedly only one in a million butterflies will end up like this, and the result is quite simply astonishing with the butterfly possessing the wing patterns of the two genders. Indeed, this rare occurrence, which has caused visitors to flock to the butterfly exhibit of the London Museum, is treated as a true miracle in nature, something beautiful and to behold as it is as rare as it is magnificent...I even took the liberty of finding a picture of a different specimen for all of you to see.

Mosaic Gynandromorph of papilio species.

Beautiful, isn't it? Though, I can't help but wonder why hermaphroditic humans are not treated with the same amount of recognition and respect? Why is it that upon birth they are treated as freaks and must then go under the knife to be 'rehabilitated' and 'normalized'? As said by Cheryl Chase in one of my articles, and I quote this loosely as I do not have her paper with me right now ... it is not something good, to have the opinion's and beliefs of others, surgically imposed upon one's own body. Besides, who could ever dream of 'normalizing' something that was made so uniquely beautiful in the first place? Just some food for thought.

Comic Artwork: Flying High!

Hey ya'll!

So remember the thing I did... the thing about the comic strip featuring super heroes and villians (of which any resemblance to any persons living or dead are highly coincidental... or are they?) that I started out earlier this year cuz Ray liked comics and I wanted to give him his own comic? Well I'm here to say that... well, actually not much has been done since I last got working on it... in fact, nothing has been done at all. Lots of fantasizing, to say the least... lots of conceptualizing... coming up with storylines... but in terms of drawing. Not much. Until today, that is, when I came up with yet another cover-art featuring my favourite two superheroes!!! Anyway this is really a present for Ray... which is sort of a bummer cuz he was going to get me something originally but then I sorta went and ruined it by 'guessing' his surprise... so I guess I get no present this time round... but whatever yeah, its the thought that counts!!!! Anyway taking his suggestion, I decided to draw this one in a more comical style... sort of like a cartoon, you know?

CYRAY, Chapter 5: Flying High! 

So, what do you think? Cute? Ugly? Hahaha well keep your opinions to yourself, for now. Save it for when chapter one finally finishes and ends up being published!!! Anyway, on a random note, anyone else experiencing trouble uploading pictures to facebook?

Latest update. Original concept sketch of the cover... somehow it looks better in pencil form no? 

Hermaphrodites in Nature

Hey ya'll!!!

Hope you liked Ray's first posting here... I daresay that it's probably the most personal (and intimate!) one on this blog yet, I'm sure there will be more to come soon. Once a week... at least. I'll make sure of it since I am guessing it must be a very sound and welcome break for most of you (my readers, that is) after all this talk about insects and amphibians and butterflies and what have you. But I digress. So I was strolling through the world wide web this evening when I managed to find this most interesting post... "Rare Hermaphrodite Butterfly Hatches in London Museum". Now apparently the butterfly, which is available for viewing at the museum for a short-time only (presumably because of its relatively short insect lifespan), is split right down the middle in a 50 to 50 male to female sex ratio with the most obvious features being the different patterns on its wings. Experts say, however that the butterflies sex organs are also fused male-female right down the center of its body and the butterfly possesses one set of male mating clasps at the end of its abdomen and the ovipositing organ of the female on the other. Apparently gyndandromorph insects (the word gynandromorph having come from the Greek word gyn for female and andro for male) come to be when sex chromosomes do not properly separate during the first division of fertilized egg cells or, when a single egg is fertilized by two sets of sperm. Anyway, for those of you Malaysians who may wish to see such an amazing specimen of a butterfly yourself, fear not, there's no need to take a plane all the way to the UK as I quite distinctly remember a gynandromorphic specimen of our own National Butterfly, the Rajah Brooke's Birdwing on display at the Penang Butterfly Farms.

gynandromorphic Great Mormon butterfly. (Papilio Memnon)

Funny I should come across this just a week after we had that amazing class with Dr. Sharon on hermaphrodites and intersexed individuals.

Ray Says

Hey ya'll, this is just to let ya'll know that Ray will soon be joining this blog with his very own segment. Its a brilliant strategy (I think it is anyway) on my part to have him continue honing his writing skills even though he's beginning to experience the stagnancy of his own blog. Anyway how often he's going to post and what he's gonna write about is all up to him so... can't wait for his first post, which should come up here sometime around the end of this week. Till then, I would just like to point out how happy I am at the attention this blog has started to gather, so... keep it up ya'll! And now with the addition of the Ray Says segment, there should be an even greater range of topics to keep up with!

Homecoming!!!

Hey ya'll

I BROKE MY TOENAIL!!! And it HURTS LIKE A MOTHER!!!!!! And I ain't even talking about a simple cracked toenail...more like my nail got torn in half and then ripped off my smallest toe due to a careless kick and a stumble while playing around near an escalator. It was such a shock I recall there was almost no pain at first, I just picked up the broken toenail and remarked that "there's some flesh on this"... and then of course came the blood, and the characteristic sharp throbbing sensation that often comes with open wounds and when I next looked down at it... OMG the blood! The Blood!!! Now... perhaps I may come off rather reckless, here in my blog... perhaps I may even come off as the type of person who don't scare easily (not true! I'm just good at hiding my fears...) but if there is one thing I cannot stand, it is the sight of blood! I don't know what, or why it is really... it's not even a fear (not quite!) rather, the sight of blood, oozing, or trickling... dripping... over... escaping from ANY orifice in the body is enough to give me the heebity jeebities!!! So anyway I just put some medicine on it and it stung again... like a mother!!! (in the words of Vufalah, Cheebity-cheebs yo!!!) but oh well I guess its gotta hurt something fierce before it can get better right... right??? Anyway, in consideration of everyone out there whose got the same issue with blood and open wounds like I do... also because I am not a flaunty show it off kinda person (rather...) I will spare you the toe pictures. Instead... let's focus on something else right now (because I too, need to take my mind off the pain)... and that is... Ray is finally back!!!

picking him up from KLIA this morning

You know... I really do believe it's true what people say, how absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that jazz because when we saw each other... boy were those smiles plastered on our faces or what!!! And that's when I knew it... though he may be super childish at times... annoying...clumsy, careless... forgetful... reckless and takes unnecessary risks (I get a mini heart attack everytime!) I really do love this silly little guy...and very much so. YOU HEAR THAT RAYBIT??? Me love you long time!!! Speaking of long time, my long time friend Caryn has also offered me a temporary job at her online shop. Basically to get around hiring models and paying them exhorbitant fees to advertise her products, she's got me instead to come up with artistic renditions of these girls in various clothes. Of course I get paid a small sum, and its not much but it is sure enough for now. Anyways, that's really all I have to say today. Not much in terms of body, I know... but I do think its a good habit, writing... makes sure I don't get out of practice. Plus I suppose all this sentence structuring has got to count for something in terms of a warmup for when I actually get back to thesis work and all that. Till that time though~

Welcome home honey~ and don't you ever leave again anytime soon. ^^

Happy Anniversary hun~ :)

All by Myself

I had my dinner... I got up. Or perhaps it was the other way around, I cannot remember. I think it took a nap for things to finally hit me. The loneliness, that is, and for all of a sudden I am left trapped beneath my comforters, my limbs as lethargic and numb as they were that day I got bitten by a venomous spider of the unknown or unidentified tropical kind. I don't know how I did it but eventually I got out... and then I had my dinner. In that order. No other. It seemed like it happened so long ago, the soft sand between our toes, the warmth of the tropical seas caressing the sunburnt skin of our backs... those nights when we would crawl together into the single bed and hug each other into the soft throes of slumber...  it was all like some sweet-sweet dream, and today's the day that dreaming ends. But maybe I was looking at it wrong... after all, one week is a pretty short time right? Too short to have such fatalistic thoughts... and then perhaps in less than seven days, these halls will be full of life again, full of the sound of your laughter. Those paintings and drawings I left on the wall would once again come to life... the plants seem less lack-lustre... maybe this is the dream... and your return is when I wake up. But like all terrible things we experience in life, they seem to go on for ages and ages. I can't believe its just 9.45... for instance. How long have I been here? How long have I sat like a zombie in front of the computer just to squeeze out these sentences? How long has it been since we parted ways on the buss? Just 7 hours. Sure seems like 7 days. In all our time together, there's probably only one moment where I felt a significant amount of sadness as to wake up as if a great weight were placed on my chest. And that was today... that was when I had to get on that buss, without you in it.

The Only Exception

Tossing in bed, restless...unable to sleep. My mind seethes in a turmoil of unresolved thoughts, free floating particles that jolt my neurons into a senseless jumble, signals racing across the brains in an unintelligible flurry of electricity. Recovering, still from our last fight. Our biggest fight. I want to hit myself so hard sometimes because of the things I say, and also the things I do. More specifically its the way I seem to react to things; loud, explosive, full blown, kinda like a grenade going off. I know it takes two to clap, that every one reaction has a cause to its action and that every cause has a catalyst which sets the powder keg aflame, but because this is my story and I'm telling it from my point of view, perhaps it would be best - to avoid any confusion or misintepretation - that I will only refer to my hand which did the clapping, my reaction to the action, my share of the spark which ignited the fire.

It wasn't until I was around 17 or 18 before I started believing in Karma. Growing up as a teenager in KL with pretty much everything I wanted in life it was very easy to take things for granted, very easy to forget that everything has its consequences. Its very easy, when you are young and youthful to believe that the universe really does revolve around you, that every action you make does not have a consequence or, even if it does, those consequences are ones that shall be easily bared. And so I did the things that I did and made those calls I had to make, many of which I was not proud of... until it actually starts to hit you and that's when I realised that everything has a consequence and that even I have blows that I could not bear to stand. I was torn, broken, thrown off of my throne. I had my heart torn out and broken before my eyes. But just as I was about to claim injustice, just as I was about to mope on my sad, sad fate, I realised that everything, all the terrible things that were not happening to me were in actual fact in many ways similar to the things I had inflicted upon others in the past. And it was so that I believed, in my own way, in Karma. And everytime I started to fall deathly ill, everytime I had dirty kicked in my face, everytime people shouted names after me in the hallway, or splashed my face with water, everytime I had my heart broken, I thought about all those people I've wronged, all those hearts I've broken in my callous attempts at satisfying myself, all those dreams I crushed in my unbridled climb to the top of my trade, and I remembered I was simply receiving back all that I had dished out in the past, and though it hurt, and though I sometimes cried and complained, I took it with the knowledge that I was simply paying up for all the bad karma I had sent out in the past.

And then you came along, and suddenly I knew what it was like to be with someone so patient, so understanding... someone whose been through so much and yet was so innocent to the ways of the world, and for the better part, I was happy. But I should have known that in reality, Happily never comes hand in hand with Ever After and that eventually as with any couple fights would break out, and though it probably seemed - and felt like too - the right thing to do by defending my point of view, I always felt shitty afterwards. I mean what's the point? The Universe was giving me a second chance here, and what was I doing with it? Arguing? Raising my voice? And over really petty and stupid things too which, I have no idea why, seem pretty big and important at the moment.... but you know, we're still together... stronger, probably, from all of this and I can see it now that you've been carrying a lot of the weight on your shoulders. I guess its time I finally shouldered some of it. Besides, as a wise lesbian just told me "no quarrel then no understanding on boundaries mah!"

You are the only exception,
and I'm on my way to believing.

Sleepovers

I hate to admit it... but I feel like I'm starting to take it for granted sometimes, how good it feels to have a warm body next to me when I close my eyes each night, when I open them each morning... but I guess its true what they say that no matter how hard you had to wait to get something, no matter how much you treasure it when you finally get it, that it too will eventually become normal... sinking slowly into the realm of the mundane.

I loved it when you held me last night, the air conditioner set at sixteen degrees thrumming through years of overuse and neglect, as we snuggled together in bed, your arm draped around my side, my head nuzzled in the small of your neck, dressed in nothing more than thin shorts and tatty shirts, protected from the cold by a cocoon of comforters and pillows... and your ever present warmth. Like two moths huddled together for heat, the proverbial  "snug as a bug in a rug". I loved it... yeah, I loved it. As I have mentioned time and again if I could stop time at any given moment of our lives it would be during one of these moments. Problem was, I didn't love it enough. Used to be, I would stay up as long as I can, forcing my eyes open with every single ounce of strength in my body... dying to savour every second of these moments, live every bit of it. But last night, I was out in a blink. Barely even a kiss goodnight before I crawled into my usual spot - between your arms, cocooned by the warmth of both layers of comforters and your body - and fell asleep. What does it mean?

I mean, its not like I loved you any less. It was just that I was getting used to sleeping with someone, a real person.I guess its true, what they say, that you never know what you really have till its gone. Which is why tonight, as I tossed and turned in bed, thinking about what it was that was keeping me up that I realised what it was. Your touch... your warmth... but most of all, the reassuring feeling I get knowing that when I wake up in the darkness from one of my dreams that I'm not alone. That somewhere, right next to me, always within my reach is a body... warm, comforting that always has my back. I don't think I'll ever sleep the same way again, not now... not that I've had you with me. And I know the day will come when we shall always wake up together in bed, and eventually the feeling fall back into the realm of the routine... but for now, I will just take this moment of absence as yet another marker, a reinforcer of the way I used to feel the first night we slept together, when dark circles meant as little to me as things like cars or politics. And boy... oh boy, can I not wait to stay over at your place next week.

My favourite days are the ones where you sleepover =D

Timeless

We sat there in almost silence. The background noise of Burlesque coming from downstairs, the tip-tap-tap of the keyboards ever clicking against soft, finger tips. Together, we ate our modest dinners of chicken rice, packed in white styro-foam boxes that we knew were so bad for the environment and yet continued to use anyway. I longed to reach out to him, a gentle caress of the cheek, run my fingers through his hair, but instead my gaze focused downwards, and I continued to stare intently at the bits of chicken and yellow oiled up rice that slowly, but surely began to levitate from my spoon and fork into my mouth. He said something then, something which jolted me right out of my routine induced stupor. "We don't spend enough time together." I was surprised. "not enough time together? What do you mean? We're spending time right now... in fact... we spend pretty fair amount of time together." You said nothing. But I knew what you meant. How long has it been since we had just a day to ourselves... I let my thoughts bring me back to this morning.

...........................................

You lay in bed... with me. Next to me. Although actually that bed was nothing more than a series of sheets strewn on the floor. It's not that we didn't have a bed, we did. But the years of usage, coupled with the occasional dampness and the decay of wood made it sure that the bed wouldn't support the weight of two anymore and so we decided that we'd much rather make do with the floor than sleep separately. And I'm fine with that. In fact, I quite like sleeping on the floor. I heard you waking up and I pretend to still be asleep. You nuzzled against my neck and I returned the favour. I don't know how long we lay like that. I didn't care. If I could, I would stop time at that particular moment. I didn't want to get up that day, didn't want to leave. And so I tried... I hoped, and wished that something would happen that would preserve that moment forever in time. In fact, I tried so hard I even ignored the throbbing sensation in my bladder urging me to answer the call of nature like it did every morning. But I guess I didn't try hard enough because before long I kicked off the sheets, slipped out from under your arm and walked out the door and to the bathroom down the hall. There it was, the momentum had started... the day was moving on.

I stood in the toilet for I don't know how long. My toes tapping on the slick blue tiles, contemplating whether I wanted to go for a shower or crawl back into bed and try stopping time some more when I heard your voice call from the room, "Hey Cy! Come! She's coming out!" There. That' made up my mind for me. Wrapping the towel back around my waist I'd come running into the room. "Look Cy! She's coming out!" The butterfly seemed to strain against the shell of its chrysalis. I couldn't help but smile at your excitement, your anticipation.  I remember having the same feeling of elation when I watched a butterfly eclose for the first time. True, I'd seen this probably like a hundred times over now, but I understood that it was your first, and I understood what it meant. But most of all, I was glad to be able to share that with you. I know these things hardly excite me that much anymore - though they still do to an extent - for your sake this morning, I was. "Quick!" I said. "Grab the camera!" And so we watched, as the little orange butterfly freed itself from the confines of her former life, and I held your hand as you held mine, and for a moment time did stop and everything was perfect.

...........................................

Fast-forward back to the present. We washed the plates and made a dessert of pineapples. You headed back to the room to do your work, and I gave you an hour to do it. Still I pondered on your words. "We don't spend enough time together." Still I knew it was true. I went downstairs and watched the remaining half of Burlesque while you were gone. Talked a bit to mum and dad. Even had time to take a shower. "I don't want to regret anything," you said. "I don't want to have to regret not spending enough time with you when you die." And this I knew to be true... quite simple because time is never enough. We can spend a billion holidays with each other... take an entire year off to go see the world. But like all things, time eventually catches up, and things eventually end. I will die one day, I suppose. I do not like to think about it... but we all know it is there. We all know it is coming. And when the time happens, I suppose you will feel like you have been cheated of me as much as I have been cheated of you. But I also believe that there are these moments, these moments that have become preserved in time... when we cuddled in bed all morning and watched as the butterflies crawled out from their chrysalids, when that second seemed like an eternity... that we will have and treasure in our hearts, for as long as you continue to live.

Timeless, don't let it end, no.
Now that you're right here in my arms where you should stay, hold tight baby.

MALACCA (is a swear word in Greek)

MALACCA!!! Now if I were Greek or if you were, I suppose you'd have every right to tell me to go rinse my mouth with clorox before using such profanities on the net... although considering how the word Malacca in Greek just means "wanker"... I suppose there are other, worse swear words I could've used in the net that would perhaps warrant for more than just a gargling with noxious cleaning fluid. Anyway this post has been long overdue considering how the vacation took place almost... well actually precisely a month ago. But there were issues with the publicity of this blog and what not.. so there have you. Anyway on the 16th of May, Ray and I decided to do something really spontaneous which resulted in, ironically, quite a bit of planning, a few phonecalls and concluded in a trip down to Malacca! Now I know Malacca is not exactly really far away from where we live but... considering how this city boy has never driven out of the city in his life, I daresay it was quite daunting. Anyway we got there, safe and sound in one piece and because I'm not really big on history (having to read up on history for my chapter, I need a break every once in awhile) we visited the butterfly park and the zoo instead. The rest is pretty much self self-explanatory. So enjoy the pictures and save me from having to write about it. 

Tortoise!!! Torrr-Toyse! 

Imma protect you from the GIANT SCORPION!!!

Okay, okay... so enough with the coupleness already and on to the other attractions. The butterflies, yeah just because I've had a change of URL and privacy features does not mean I have completely forgotten the purpose of this blog... uh what was the purpose of this blog again? Oh right... to document the insects and living things that I see and all that... though in all fairness I suppose me and Ray are living things too...but oh okay, taken out of context and all that. Anyway I'm more than happy to show off some of these winged beauties...

and let's get started with this beautiful male Papilio Memnon  of which I have a larvae which has still not yet changed into a chrysalis making it more than a month since I first adopted it... I wonder what it's waiting for?

Another beautiful male~ this Orange Tip made it a point to flash itself to use all day, fluttering in and out of my peripheral vision until I approached it with my hand and it flew away for good. Just like some people... teasers, I believe. The kinds that love to show but are all no go. 

There were tons of these butterflies, too. One of the many subspecies of Cethosias, I believe. 

And the beautiful Kalimma Inacchus which are a lot like certain people really, for most of the times when they remain motionless, they resemble nothing more than dried up leaves. But give them time to open up, and maybe they might even surprise you with a flash of colours! 

Though, on the other hand, there are those who just can't resist showing off. And you do have every right to I suppose, when you're the King of the Butterflies like this magnificent specimen of a Trogonoptera Brookiana

But I must say that my favourite exhibit it ANY butterfly farm... has got to be the chrysalis cabinet, or cocoon case.

reminds me of my own Eclosion chamber hahahaha which is just missing the lego figure of the Hazmat man to give it the mad scientist sort of feel... but oh well. willnotwhinewillnotwhinewillnotwhine.

And so that's pretty much what we saw when we were at the butterfly farm... which is pretty much standard for any butterfly farm visit I suppose, considering how I completely missed the Atlas moths... but well, there were other awesome things to do there, too. I suppose. And once we were done with looking at all the wildlife - something which, I'm afraid is a little tihng of mine (when we go to the mall I always insist on making a trip to the pet-store first!) - we went to Jonker street for a little bit of good food too, although in all fairness we only ate two bowls of Cendol... but we did get one step closer to curing Ray of his fear of snakes though. And I always joke that he's a little bit afraid of me as well (seeing as to how I'm born in the year of the serpent in the Chinese zodiac)... so that's pretty much how we spent our first vacation together, granted it was a mini-vacation since we only made a day trip out of it, but he still ended up staying the night at my place, and the night after that as well. I guess you can say its moments like these I'll remember the most... along with taking my first bike-ride with him across Subang, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Hissssss~ two snakes and a horse.