Found this one on Sashi’s blog. Now, here’s my two cents on it.

On one side, I can see why these people are alarmed. Here, according to the paper, you have this guy dispensing information, so to speak, on the best places to get drugs, why he gets drugs, and what kind of drugs (at least I think for the second two, I haven’t read his blog).

On the other, you have the Metro Ahad (which should tip you off if you’re a Malaysian. Any paper with the word Metro in the title tend to be a bit of community newspaper in a very tabloid-ish manner. Did I mention the many ads in it?) which looks like it’s trying to be a responsible newspaper, but for some reason, it looks like it’s failed.

The article seems to be painted, with long, broad strokes, of stereotypical-ness. According to it, people who were curious to try drugs will now try it, since such information has been made available to them. Oddly enough, for me at least, the more I read about these things, the more I get turned off by it. It seems not worth getting into a habit that’ll cost me hundreds of ringgit for a two minute high (or more or less).

The way the article was written though, more or less guarantees that people will want to go to that site and check it out for themselves. Way too much information was published, information that could have been kept until a further time when the authorities would like to clamp down on blogs.

The sad thing is, Malaysia has a policy of not policing the Internet. This is one instance where I agree that this was too much (the poster and information posted on his blog). However, might I also point out that they could have written it better? I suppose though, that to the tabloids, handling anything in a mature and adult manner without painting people in a stereotypical light is asking for too much.

My problem ain’t with the content. It’s the way of writing and the words used that irk me.


There comes a time in everyone’s life that we realise that the people who raised us doesn’t have all the answers. That sadly, they are human and fallible. That knowledge is terrible and painful, but it is the realisation that hurts you the most. The worse that can happen is that you realise that your rock is not really a rock, but a quagmire (Been wanting to use that word for ages- Me), a quicksand that is dragging you down so slowly, you can’t even see it until you’re halfway down.

This disillusionment, though neccessary for us to grow up and accept ourselves as adults, does not come witout a price. The price is often paid by both sides, though with different coinage at times.

On one side, you may have the child who refuses to accept that their guardians don’t know everything. After a while, that child may either grow up to b cycnical, live under a coconut shell and refuse to come out, or they may choose to live their life their own way, leaving everything that they have gained, or everything that once brought them comfort behind.

For the parents, they either choose to let their child go, or they refuse to see that their child no longer needs wants to believe them. They try to play the role of the all-seeing one, despite the fact that their child sees through their acting and refuses to accept it. For their parents still wear a mask and yet have the gall to demand openess and honesty from them, but the child refuses to bow down to them.

Sometimes childhood illusions, should be left alone. Others, you have to shatter them. You may have 7 years bad luck if you do, but it’s better than living in a dream that isn’t yours and being pulled to do something that you don’t want to handle.


This is Sukina talking. Please be warned that the following post is, in the girl’s own words, vain, selfish, and ego-centric. Thank you. *Bows*

I took a closer look at my face this evening and realised something. My hair was tied up, and my face was wet from the shower that I just had. There were wisps of hair clinging to my face, plastering and making it look very dreamy. I like that kind of look on a person. Don’t ask me why, I just do. There’s a certain kind of dreamy quality to it.

It’s also the only condition that I really feel satisfied with my face. For some reason, I have a hard time believing that the girl looking back at me in the mirror is me. The same goes double for pictures of myself. I don’t like pictures of myself. Yes, when they’re being taken they fulfil that narcisstic feeling we all get once in a while. But I hate looking at the results.

I find myself thinking, “Gosh, shouldn’t have smiled,” or “What was I thinking?”

And that, people, is the main reason why I do not like taking photos of myself. I’ve had a number of people who like looking at the few photos I’ve uploaded, and I find it hard to understand why. Okay, I do, but at the same time, there’s this unsatisfied feeling in me.

I don’t know about people, but I do know that photos do not always capture the best expressions and personalities of people. Take Viv’s and Ade’s photos. I loved the one she took that were impromptu (Viv, I’m talking about the early photos you took this sem) but I don’t like group photo posers. Maybe it’s because with candid shots, they seem to capture more of the personality and identity of the people, rather than just an image.

Meh. Here’s a pic that my darling took of me. I think the teeth makes me look like a chipmunk, but please be honest!!