When It's Time To Box The Balls

Two mates recently almost got into a boxing match over a ball that decided to visit the face of one chap after leaving the foot of the other. It was yet another classic example of why testosterone and sports make for a very, very bad combination.

I myself was not present at the scene of the would-be-crime, though if I was, imagine the pictures I'd have been able to capture. Ooh...the action! The emotion! The bruised eyes and cracked, bleeding lips! I'd have snapped them all before receiving a bruised eye and a cracked, bleeding lip of my own.

It's difficult when things get to your head while playing these kinds of sports. Bloody hell, it's difficult enough keeping your emotions in check when playing something as timid and docile as chess or even draughts, what more a type of sport which requires you to kick a ball with low rebound characteristics into the goal while trying to avoid hitting the poor goalie in his face or cojones. Frankly speaking, judging from how hard some blokes shoot the ball, I'm surprised that there has yet to come out a ruling about how goalkeepers are obliged to wear helmets and/or chastity belts for the sake of their unborn children.

I absolutely understand that the chap who got his glasses knocked off of him must have been in quite a rage having been acquainted rather personally with the ball without him wishing for it. However, that does not mean I agree to him raising a fist and threatening to wipe out the last of the other fellow's descendants. Wouldn't it have been better and infinitely more graceful to just pick up the specs and leave the grounds? Most people would do that, knock on wood. 

But yes, it's always easier said than done and as somebody who did not play in the testosterone-charged game the other day, I suppose I have just about as much right to be commenting on the person's action as a damned Israel troop killing unarmed Palestinians. 

Histrionic

When we least expect it, that is when we are pushed - face first - into our darkest hour.

At times we feel as if we've been given a chance at redemption, only for that feeling to be swiftly dashed by a cruel and cold silence.

But never mind. Hope arises once realisation sets in. And we begin a new day anew.

Summer Is Here!

Oh wait. I forgot it's always summer here.

On another note, I have always wanted to meet people with names such as Summer, April etc. If you happen to have such a name, do drop me a line.

Of Durians and Fishes

A friend made the very astute observation of how places in Melaka are often named after natural elements, and he even named a few examples, just to show how observant he was - Ayer Keroh, Durian Tunggal and Alor Gajah (more like Alur Gajah, am I right?)

Needless to say, I was very impressed. 

However, I would have been more impressed had he observed the law while sitting behind the wheel as we were on our way to Melaka a couple of days back. Feeling awfully bored by spending the weekend in Tampin doing nothing but think of ways how to cut names off of the list of diabetic patients we were supposed to interview for our study, my trusty brothers in arm - God bless the fools - decided to visit the historical town and end the day by having dinner at that oh-so-fishy open air eatery, Umbai.

Now, like all things that yield best results when done spontaneously e.g. the decision to profess one's love for a member of the opposite gender, the trip was possible only because we did not ponder too long on whether we needed to bring clothes for the night, or whether some of us would get travel sickness or even whether A' Famosa would still be standing when we got there. Alas, like all things that yield best results when done spontaneously, something is bound to go wrong somewhere along the way e.g. the person you just confessed your love to turns out to be a blood relative. In our case, that 'something' was the dinner in Umbai.

So here's a Top Gear© Top Tip: if you're planning to chow down on grilled fish in Umbai, make sure you get there early. Not when people are already heartily enjoying theirs, leaving you only the choice of species of fish which I have never heard of before and squid. Either you arrive early, or you bring your own fish for them to cook. No, I'm not kidding you on this one.

Enough talk. More pictures. Do they not speak a thousand words?

Fun In Gemas

Mention Gemas and the first thing that comes to mind is trains. Gemas and trains go hand in hand like Oya and Mukah, Pedas and Linggi, Tuaran and Papar....you get the idea. 

I have always liked trains and as a boy, I'd be fascinated watching them pull into the station while blowing a lot of hot air and making a lot of noise - kind of like that brat we all know who likes to boast a lot about everything under the sun. The only thing which bugs me till this day is the idea of train spotting. What kind of a sport is train spotting? Who are the players? Who keeps track of the score? And how do you score points anyway? It is all very puzzling to me.

Anyway, when we got the chance to visit Gemas last week, it was a childhood dream come true. Unfortunately, that dream was shattered as soon as it was fulfilled. The reason being? I was told that Gemas was - contrary to the very dear belief I had held all this while - not in Johor but in fact, Negeri Sembilan.

.....

NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

Still, it was fun shooting photos with the 'old train town' as the backdrop.

News of Today: Medical Students Visit Gemas

It's a beauty, isn't it?

Somebody was an eager beaver

Najmi obviously boarded the wrong train...

...while this guy doesn't really care.

I wonder what these dials do...

Gemas is part of Negeri Sembilan. Never forget that kids!

Which Way To Effective Communication, Sir?

I sometimes resent the fact that I am no good with people. I envy my other friends who have no problem going up to a total stranger and ask for directions. Some of them are even capable of going up to a total stranger and at the end of the conversation, exchange telephone numbers. It needs no special mention that these friends are guys and are obviously up to no good, but that is something else. The main point is, they are good at talking to people whereas I suck. Completely.

And that is troubling because for the next two weeks, I am required to talk to total strangers who I have never met before in my life and ask them about how many tablespoons of sugar do they take in a day and whether or not they believe that potatoes can make you fat. Not only that, in order to hunt down these strangers, I am required to ask for directions from other strangers. It's a catch-22 situation - there is no way out of it.

Of course the optimist will tell me that this would be a very good chance to overcome my inhibitions and learn how to talk in a civil manner to people who will one day become my patients. For once, I would have agreed with that thought were it not for the fact that some of my friends were greeted by barking, flea-infested dogs rather than scowling, sugar-infested patients. These anecdotes are very much a turn off for me to get in the chummy mood.

However, I guess that I really do not have a choice. Sooner or later, I will have to start opening my mouth and stutter some unintelligent sounds which were actually supposed to come out as 'Do you believe that preparing a diabetic meal is difficult?'. Unless my short term goal is to be the most hated person in the group for not pulling his weight, I'll have to start going through my Communication Skills for Dummies book. Pronto.