Fly Me Through The Sunset

About 8.30 pm – Thursday; December 9th, 2010. It was just another day – but maybe it was not.

I was about to enter my beloved Ford (I don’t drive – my wife is the pilot) when my cellular phone rang. I picked up the call without closing the vehicle’s door. My wife stalled our Ford – waiting for me to close the door so we could be on our way. My five kids were chatting relentlessly in their seats – making merry in their own felicitous world.

A voice came over the phone’s speaker. An unfamiliar voice, but only for some brief moments.

“Ali Sobree, is that you?”

“Yes, I am he.”

“I am Ariffin.”



Instinctively I knew the man.

A long long time ago – in perhaps a parallel life once written in the cosmos; we were buddies, fast friends, the best of friends or whatever string of words you wish to call it.

Fate would have us go our own way and we would be missing each other in life’s own transit for some 35 years, a decidedly long period of blank space in our mortal life.

The rest is history, as they would always love to say.

Ariffin came over to my humble place with his wife and their youngest kid, a lovable, joyous and vibrant son. He’s got two daughters but they were not with him – they are abroad doing their studies at this time of our little rendezvous – or was it a reunion of sort? It matters not.

He’s still a friend I used to know – as a matter of fact.

I was happy to see him again, even at the third and perhaps the last phase of our life. We were in our teenage years when we got to know each other. We were inseparable and we were adventurous and we were joyful, making merry with whatever we did; be it studying or playing.

The world has changed around us; but I would still feel the warmth of his friendship. Perhaps it would last until the end of our days. Perhaps – God willing.

Right now he is a Captain with Korean Air – and I am damn proud of him. He called me a genius, but perhaps he is the real genius one.

I certainly wish that he would remember me as one if not his best buddy when he looks out of his cockpit and watch the streaming golden light beyond the horizon as he flies his Boeing 777.

As I ponder about our friendship; I know this beautiful and gorgeous moment would fly me through the same sunset.

Go on my brother – spread your wings and fly like an eagle. I shall be here looking up to watch you cruising in the shadow of the cloud above…

Pictures, Words and Songs

Many years ago when I was small,
I saw some pictures in the blue sky,
And so I painted them onto some drawing blocks…

Years later;
I saw some words besides the moon and the stars,
And so I wrote down words into my notebook,
And sometimes on some little scraps of papers…

A few years later;
I heard some tunes playing beyond the clouds above,
And so I wrote some songs,
And I sang them…

But I am no one,
I am just a man;
Who found pictures, words and songs…

Perhaps there are other things in life,
Perhaps there are better things in life,
But I am a man with pictures, words and songs…

And I shall go on;
Watching the blue sky,
Watching the moon and the stars,
Watching some clouds passing by…

I shall watch sunsets beyond the horizon too,
Perhaps angels would be there in a moment,
Listening to the rhythm of my heart…

Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL December 2010

Take A Ride

Yesterday is not dead,
It is just gone,
Spinning into the realm of our memories,
Together with our happiness,
Together with our sadness,
Or together with both…

Life spins,
Like a wheel of fortune,
And when it stops,
You know not where you are;
You might be somewhere in the kingdom of the undesirables,
Or you would end up in a beautiful garden of heavenly bliss,
Or at a rim of a menacing black hole;
Standing by to usurp you into nothingness…

Would you dare to ride again,
On your wheel of fortune?
And would you care if it spins at all?

I would take a ride through a wormhole,
For I am an adventurer with a yearning soul,
Take me to the land of a million sorrows,
And I shall be there without fear of any tomorrow…

Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL November 2010

Outside My Window

It’s late and the day is crawling away;
Perhaps the moon would come out to play,
Perhaps raindrops would wash the moon-glow,
Perhaps you are there outside my window,
Walking in the rain without an umbrella…

Perhaps I would take a walk,
Not with you – but with your memories,
Because you are a ghost,
Haunting outside my window…

Each time it rains,
I could hear your laughter,
And the memories would slowly drip,
Like some raindrops outside my window…

Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL October 2010

Little Things

Alone with my little thoughts,
In my own little world,
At a little place I love to dwell,
334 steps away from my door,
And raindrops keep falling…

I’m trapped;
But I am not going to try to be free,
Not because I loved being trapped,
It’s because I loved being alone,
In my own little world…

Let it rain all night long,
Let raindrops keep falling from the night sky,
I would stay in this little corner,
With my own little thoughts,
With my own little friends;
A little pencil,
And a shred of a little notepad…

Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL August 2010

Distorted Face

Sometimes when you see a face,
It is distorted and not anatomically right,
But it is still a face that you know,
Or a face you don’t really know anymore.

People say I am what I am,
But probably he is only speculating,
Or hoping or believing,
Just to please his own aching heart.

The world is not anatomically right,
It is distorted with vengeance on its face;

And freedom is distorted like a face in a painting…

Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL August 2010

The Vanishing Soul

Misty eyes,
Blurring your double visions,
Sadness and gloominess;
Scratching your tortured soul.

Dreams are far away;
Almost untouchable,
Yet you stand there,
Watching the merry world,
Laughing like hyenas.

What are you?
I am a bubble; beautiful but flimsy,
You would say.

Who are you?
I am a rainbow; pretty but unreal,
I would vanish when the vapors disappear;
You would say.

And why?
Because I am – you would say.

Time flies like a falling leaf,
The soul sings a sad song,
But it never says goodbye,
It does not know how.

Perhaps I know;
Not much, but I know.

I know that if I turn away,
I would never look back ever again.

The blue ocean would swallow me,
The setting sun would consume me,
And dusk would come,
The magic hour would leave,
And I shall be in the shadows of the night.

Forever; dark and mysterious…

Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL August 2010

See You Again

See you in the morning,
When you wake up from your dream;

See you in the twilight,
When the sun is falling,
When the day is quitting,
When the sky is burning;

See you on the night,
When the moon is full,
When the clouds are drifting,
When the stars are twinkling,
When the owl is hooting;

See you in the spring,
When the flowers bloom;

See you next time,
If I’m still around…

Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL August 2010

Waiting For Someone

Wait!
Is that – that someone?
Or are you just blind?

Sometimes that someone would come,
Sometimes that someone would keep you waiting,
And never comes…

Sometimes that someone would come back again,
Like a recurring season.

Sometimes you just wish that someone would never come at all,
Or perhaps you just wish that you never knew that someone at all…

Perhaps you just like to wait,
For that someone…

Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL August 2010

The Lost Passion

By profession, I was a banker right after college. Then I was wheedled into entertainment industry, which was actually already a part of my life since I was young.



I was a painter when I was a little 6 year old boy. I would paint all day long; and it came naturally without any formal training. I would paint landscapes, portraits, objects such as fruits and knickknacks items and events such as Word War II; soldiers with guns and exploding backgrounds. I would paint a football (soccer) goalkeeper diving to save a striker’s shot. Such was my passion with the game that I myself would become a goalkeeper as well later on.

But the most intriguing of all to me was calligraphy. It would need a certain graphic design intuition and understanding of the words being painted. It was helped of course by my grandpa who was an Imam at our local mosque; who would always love to see a verse from Al-Quran being painted into a beautiful artwork.

Immediately after MCE (Malaysia Certificate of Education) examinations and out of the Technical Institute where I took up a Building Construction course; I was offered to work as a Naval Draftsman at a shipyard – Limbungan Timur Sdn. Bhd. in my hometown Kuala Terengganu, Malaysia.

I was there for seven months and would then leave for my college education. The Naval Architect (an Englishman – his name has escaped my mind for some time; but I would remember him chain-smoking filter-less Blue Player’s Navy Cut cigarettes) at the shipyard was adamant that I should stay so he would be able to send me to Holland to study Naval Architecture.



Fate would rule the universe I was in; I would end up not staying. But I would remember during my first semester break to come back to the shipyard and learn that the Naval Architect was staying in a boat-house I designed for him before I left; just across the shipyard.

Off I went to UiTM, even leaving behind my Band-Mates (I was a lead guitarist and a lead singer) and my first real girlfriend. She would later marry a guy because she would not wait for me to finish college and would envision me leaving her for someone who would be far more attractive and intelligent than a kampung (village) girl like her. I would come back to attend her wedding and watched her being solemnized as someone’s else wife.

I would then engrossed myself in music. I would later (after my banking days) become a pop singer and venture into TV and Film-making as well as Animations; thus finishing a full circle – back to my first love, art and design.

But I would not draw or paint anymore. The passion has left me together with those moments that flew away. I would just sit in front of my digital companions; workstations, applications, soft-wares, whatever-wares; and meddle with those mind-boggling artificial intelligent beings.

Perhaps time would bestow me with that love one more time – and I would be happy to just stroll along beautiful landscapes and start painting them again; passionately and lovingly.

The Rendering Storm

Listen!
A hush and then a whisper,
A storm is coming…

I could see the cloud turning darker,
Thunder is growling and the wind is howling,
Filth spewing in the air, heavy and dirty.

We are doomed,
We are going to be bound,
To a hell on a dreadful earth,
Unless we move and shove and push,
The dark gathering clouds…

We shall burn our despair,
And set our hopelessness on fire.

We shall destroy the destroyers,
And we shall shred the Jokers,
With their Aces and Kings and Queens,
Even the Jacks of All Hypocrites.

Tear them into little pieces,
And let the rendering storm carry them,
With other filth and garbage.

And we shall turn on the taps,
In our garden of hopes,
We shall spray the water into the warm sunlight…

We would then see a rainbow,
Curving beautifully on the blue horizon.

The filthy storm shall be in our distant memories…

Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL August 2010

The Way It Used To Be Part 3

Years ago when I was small, I would wonder where my dad and mum were. They were not living with us. And I would remember never to have seen any of them until much later.

My grandma would tell her side of the story. This was her story as I would remember (I might have lost some details – as I would try to recall those events in a universe far far away):

My grandpa Muda Haji Ismail came to Terengganu with nothing in his name but a son, Mustafa (my grandpa had a daughter earlier – Ramlah whom he had left behind with his ex-wife somewhere in Kuantan, Pahang). At that time, my dad was in his teen. My grandpa was down with malaria and life was very difficult for him with his teenage son.

A woman (my grandma) who was a divorcee with a daughter (my mum) took pity on my grandpa and nursed him back to health. Short story – my grandpa married my grandma and my mum and dad became brother and sister.

They (my mum and dad) were always quarreling and my grandma would warn them to behave; less they would be married off to each other. Indeed – that was exactly what had happened sometime later.

My grandpa was a tailor and a ‘songkok’ maker. He was also an Imam at our local mosque. My grandma was a petty trader and had a little grocery shop. She would want my dad to look after the shop because her own daughter (my mum) was attending a nursing school. But my dad was more interested in politics and would always be missing to attend UMNO (United Malays National Organization) meetings, gatherings and functions.

My grandma would always scold my dad for playing truant. Her fiery temper was legendary. She was rumored to have thrown a spear right onto a ‘pelamin’ while her earlier husband (my mum’s dad – my other grandpa) were sitting with his new bride during a ‘bersanding’ ceremony.

She was called Cik Da Nipis for her small body and fiery short temper – Cik Da probably came from my grandpa’s name Muda. My grandpa was called Ayah Da. I would call my grandma Cik Tua and my grandpa To’Ki. And I would call my mum Cik Mummy and my dad Bat.

Consistent nagging and scoldings from my grandma would drive my dad away from our home. He would leave for Segamat in Johor to stay with one of my grandpa’s sister. Together with one of his uncle, my dad would embark on a journey that would make him an excellent public speaker later in his life. He would travel places (mostly in Johor) to sell medicinal herbs concocted by his uncle for a couple of years.

My mum would finish her nursing school and would start her own career with the Government Hospital, staying in a provided quarter. Thus, my parents lived a separate life – amplified by the distance of their dwellings in those early independence days. (They were about 300 miles or 483 kilometers apart – which was a huge distance at that time)

One fateful day, my grandpa would receive a letter from my dad addressed to his wife (my mum). It was a letter containing ‘an utterance of a divorce’. My grandpa would not have the heart to tell my mum; he would place the letter in between pages of a magazine (Pembangunan – if I may recall) which my mum would always read when she would come visiting her mum and father-in-law who was also her step-dad.

My parents were divorced then. My mum who was staying about 20 miles or 32 kilometers away would often visit us. But it was until much later when I would see my dad again. My sister Sabariah would think that our grandpa was her father. She would refuse to answer when her standard one teacher would call her by her full name. She would say that her father’s name was not Mustafa but Muda.

My dad and my mum would remarry again (to different persons) in the same year, in the same place; which was my grandparents house.

I would have 5 more siblings from my dad’s new family and 3 more from my mum’s new family. At this point in my life; I would have 2 dads and 2 mums with a number of grandparents. Later, I would have another few mums and 2 more dads when I myself would start my own family. Of course the number of grandparents would increase too – as well as the number of in-laws.

I have loved every single moment I have had spent with every single member of my extended family. I have loved them dearly; and still I do.

Love is eternity and beyond. It is the single most important fabric in human life that would hold people together; no question about it. Those without love are definitely the most unfortunate beings ever to grace this beautiful life on this beautiful blue marble of a planet.

Feel the love that surrounds you; and you will never be alone even when you are alone with your own being. God will be there; watching your conducts and listening to your heart – loving you as one of His creations.

And I am full of love; I would gladly suffocate and die in my own ocean of endless love. Now, would you do too?



Note:
My dad and I were not in this picture. My mum Kasmah is on extreme left (kneeling with her hand-bag), my sister Sabariah is being held by my grandma Fatimah (standing on extreme right), my grandpa Muda is slightly behind my grandma. The others are my family members from my grandma’s side.

This picture was taken in 1961 when I was 3 years old

The Way It Used To Be Part 2

Two months before our LCE (that’s Lower Certificate Of Education, equivalent to PMR – Penilaian Menengah Rendah today) exams, my grandpa died from a heart failure (if I’m not mistaken). In his death certificate though, the cause of death was written as ‘because of old age’. I was 16, a little ‘kampung’ (village) boy and I knew nothing better. He was 63; quite young by today’s standard.

I was actually raised by my grand-parents when I was 2 and my kid sister was about 1 year old. My mum were divorced from my dad (this is according to Muslim law where the man could divorce the wife but not the other way round) somewhere around late 1960 or early 1961. Both of them would get married later and I would have brothers and sisters from both side of my family. In fact I have 8 of them not including my only sister from the same parents. Both my mum and dad were happy with their lives then and I was happy to stay with my grand-parents and that was that.

After our LCE, I was sent to Sekolah Menengah Teknik (Technical Institute) way down (or was it up?) in Kuantan, Pahang in 1975. Kuantan is about 150 miles or 241 kilometers away from my grand-parents’ house. I would have to leave my grandma behind and my sister would later move to stay with my mum to continue with her schooling. Luckily my grandma would have some relatives come over and stay with her; sometimes for months at a stretch – so she would not be all alone. Later she would marry her old boyfriend when the guy’s wife was dead – an amazing story considering their age. Whoever says that love is not timeless? It was, and it still is, I believe.

It was at this school that my life would entirely change. Before this, I was never far away from my beloved home since I was small; and I was well protected by my grand-parents and by all of my childhood friends. I was one of the smallest built in my group; and my friends would take the initiative and responsibility to protect me from bullies and adversaries alike; and in return I would help them with their studies.

Then - here I was; in a hostel far away from my beloved home. But some of my schoolmates were there too. So it was not that bad after all; except that they would not be able to protect me from our seniors, as they were ‘freshies’ (freshmen) themselves.

Somehow, I was spared by that so called ragging. It was customary and trendy at that time to rag ‘freshies’; I was spared because I could sing and the seniors would have some jolly good times teasing me and asking me to sing my heart out.

Later the same year I would win a talent-time contest for our school; singing Billy Don’t Be A Hero by Paper Lace and Hey Ho by Paul McCartney and the Wings, two tunes that were very popular at that time. I was thus befriended by a lot of seniors who seemed to value their presence with a new ‘star’. Of course the ‘freshies’ themselves would be pleased to be seen hanging out with me.



I would then fall in love with guitar playing. But there was a problem; I did not have one, and I could not afford one.

In the hostel, we were given double-decker in a long corridored room. I’ve got a bed under a guy (forgive me – I’ve have forgotten his name; but he hailed from Kelantan, an east-coast state bordering Thailand) who happened to have a guitar. He loved his guitar and would play every day and night until the lights were out. He was good, but I’ve intended to be better – but the guitar is his.

Nonetheless, as the story goes – he would lend me his guitar, but only after the lights were out (about 11.45 pm if I would remember correctly).

It was heaven for me though. I would borrow the guitar, borrowed a chord chart and progression book from another guy and off I would go to pick, pluck and strum under the streetlights across the road from my hostel, not too far away. I would play for a couple of hours and I would sleep late but extremely satisfied. Of course, sometimes I would be chased by our Hostel Master; and I would disappear into the shadows of our school buildings, crawling stealthy back into my bed and would pretend to be deeply asleep. I was not caught; not even once. I was a lucky guy, perhaps.

During that ‘freshie’ year, I was one of the boys who have had secured a scholarship from our Terengganu State Government. It was not much, but it was meant to help us poor people with our studies. But I would save some portion of the scholarship; not for books and study accessories (I was taking Building Construction course then), but for what else other than a brand new made in China Kapok guitar.

There I was – strumming my brand new guitar whenever I would have had the time; every single day and night. Of course I was not alone. There were a few close friends who were into music as well.

We would later play together; an acoustic little band with Kapok guitars as our main musical instruments with a few plastic pails arranged together as a drum set – hit with much gusto by a friend with some wooden rulers.

Of course I was the lead singer. It was meant to be.

The Way It Used To Be Part 1

I remember when we were in primary school; at standard three or four – our class teacher would ask us about our ambition. It seemed that everyone wants to be an engineer, a doctor, a teacher, a police personnel, an army officer or a ‘someone who is rich’. Nobody wants to be a politician, a sportsman/sportswoman, an artiste, an entrepreneur or some other things.

Me? I wanted to be a Professor. So I would read and read and read. And I would write and write and write. And I would think and think and think. I was damn good at those things. I still am.

It used to be that these were the things that I would do routinely until I was about 16:

# I would go to school joyously every single day (playing truant was never on my mind) and I would sit on the front row nearest to the teacher. I would listen very carefully and would never have to do much revision later on.

# Back from school, I would do my homework first immediately after lunch. This would free me in the evening and later at night; there would be other things to do in life besides schooling.

# Evening would come and I would play badminton, football (soccer) or table-tennis. If it was a dry and windy day, I would go into the vast paddy field and let fly my custom-made Wau Bulan (a type of kite with a reed that produces sound when it vibrates against the onrushing wind) and enjoyed the joyous atmosphere with some like-minded friends. Friends in those days were also neighbors and schoolmates. Of course we would have some friends from neighboring villages too.

# We would learn to recite Al-Quran after Isyak prayer. There were almost 30 of us and each one of us were always trying to outdo each other; but we would never cross the line in our endeavor.

# After dinner, it was ‘the TV’ at a local shop. During those time, not many household had a television set. So most of us would converge at a local shop and watch the television en masse. It was fun and it was damn entertaining. We would watch Mannix, Hawaii Five-O, The Wild Wild West, Mystery Movies where Rock Hudson and Peter Falk were our heroes, Run For Your Life and of course High Chapperal and The Virginian too. And I would never miss The Waltons and Peyton Place. And if there was Muhammad Ali on the TV – the whole village would come to a stand still.



# Once a week, or sometimes once a fortnight – there would be a movie showing in a local cinema not a kilometer away from my home. I would remember Guns Of Navarone, Ben Hur, Jason and The Argonauts, The Magnificent Seven, The Mask Of Zorro, Sangam, An Evening In Paris, Love In Tokyo, Night In London, Ibu Mertuaku, Anakku Sazali, Patong Chendana and countless other movies of various genre and languages. To us (my friends and I), all the movies were good. We were never critical of any movie. We were there to enjoy ourselves, not to become critics. And enjoy we did – extremely.

# At 10 pm or latest by 11 pm, I would go to bed; and would wake up the next day at about 5.45 am to get ready for school. Of course on weekends, we would stay very late but would still wake up quite early to go to a weekly market where we would just mingle with people who would converge to do some petty tradings at a designated center not too far away from my blessed home. The petty traders would come from surrounding villages; some as far as 10 to 15 kilometers away. We would spend some pocket money on iced sugarcane juice and a plate of nasi dagang, laksam or a bowl of boiled mee hoon hailam. There were us Malays, there were Chinese (some of their children are my school-mates and good friends), and there were Indians. We were 1Malaysia long before our politicians decided to use the catchphrase. Perhaps, the politicians were thinking that we would have forgotten our civility. Not me; because I was and still am blind to the race and color creed.

# During school holidays, we would go on a trip with our bicycles and camped at any selected place that fancied us. We would be happy together, never quarreling and never looking down on anyone; for we were of the same flock. We were poor; but not too poor. Our elders were mostly farmers and petty traders. Some were a bit well off with their own business and shop-lots ; but they were humble and understanding. They would give us credit during monsoon and other hard times. We were happy as a community could ever be and should ever be.

Then of course things would change. I would face a certain event that would change the course of my life, entirely.

Love : Revisited

Let’s fall in love again;
With our spouse and children,
With our family and friends.

Let’s not fall in love;
With hate, greed, revenge and envy.

Let’s try to love;
Our enemies and foes,
Our passion for happiness.

Love is;
Just around the corner of your beating heart,
Just at the blink of your eyes,
Just a whisper away,
Just a moment away.

Curse thyself with love abundance,
And you shall be immortal.

And let’s be KOOL with lots of love.

Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL July 2010

The Night Comes

Dusk,
And the day walks away,
Like a spurned lover.

The night comes,
And sits like a KOOL owl;
On a branch of a tree,
Waiting for the moonshine,
To spell sadness and sorrow,
To hoot loneliness and despair.

And mystery says hello,
As the night grows older,
Like a burden on a humping shoulder.

The stars would twinkle,
Like some glittering diamonds,
And sometimes one of them would fall,
With its tail burning spaciously.

Are you watching?
Are you whispering words of comfort?
Perhaps you are just a ghost,
Never here; nor there.

I am the owl,
My piercing eyes drilling the darkness,
Silent and KOOL.

Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL July 2010

Delusion

You’ll drown in sorrow and sadness,
You’ll wither in pain and hurt,
Lest you’ll get a grip on reality.

Reality will rained on you,
When the cloud of delusion vanishes and disappears.

Be real.

Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL July 2010

Life Is A Tree

Sometimes we are just alone,
Counting our days and watching our designated time,
Ticking into infinite void.

No one there to see us standing stoically,
With melancholy in our grieving heart,
No one there to caress our load of loneliness.

Perhaps a lazed swirl of cloud would,
Or a ray of light from a reclining sun,
Or an eddy of breeze lapping on our wrinkled face.

Life is a tree under an open sky,
Another life is our canopy.

Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL June 2010

Dysfunctional

You can argue until you are blue in the face,
Ignorant will cling like a leech,
To retain their absurdity.

It takes just about anyone to say:
See, I am right!
I told you so!
I don’t think so.

But it would take a really big heart to be able to say:
Yes, you are right!

And so shall it be,
Until the cows come home,
Until the pigs could fly.

Argue and reasons it out,
And then open your mind to understand;
Or you shall argue again,
Till the end is nowhere in sight.

And so shall you be,
Always wanting to be ignorant,
Because it is easier,
Because it makes you feel better.

And so, you shall remain blind;
With your eyes wide open.

Dysfunctional,
Like a day without the sun.

Total eclipse!

Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL July 2010

Look Deeper

If you look deeper,
You’ll only see the skeleton of yourself.
Nothing much,
Just a bundle of bones.

No beautiful skin.
No pretty eyes and no swanky clothes.
No flesh and blood too.
Nor will there be your heart beating;
To the rhythm of our worldly life.

Only your soul remains…

Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL July 2010

Free Is As Free Does

Great! Now we are all scratching our not so-itchy-heads for plunging ourselves into a quagmire of social unrest. We have too many accounts on the World Wide Web - for emails and social sites alike. Each has a specialty and/or familiarity that others do not.

We have Google Mail, Yahoo Mail, Hotmail, MySpace, YouTube, Twitter, Blogspot, Facebook, WordPress, etc. We are supposed to rejoice; but alas, we are spending too much time trying to sort out which is which. What mail to use as the primary address? What blogging service is to render our latest blabbering? What social site is to visit to keep in touch and get connected? Plenty is good, but plenty is also plentifully unmanageable.

Of course we have choices; we could try all and later pick and opt. We would scour each services and would try to adapt to different modes and styles. What good is there to sign up and then abandon the account without penning a single post?

Perhaps we don't like the interface. Perhaps we are not comfortable with some rules and regulations. Perhaps we don't even like the assigned address. Perhaps we do not even have an inkling of what to do with the account at all.

The internet is getting overloaded with traffic; with each enterprise trying to divert the scouring surfers its way. Good; but not so good.

But then again; free is as free does.

Time In Warp-Speed

I didn't post anything in 2009. 2010 is already here; and it's already February. Time sure flies away - damn bloody fast like a warp-speed spaceship.

I was busy mapping out a new office for ToonzSparX Studio. Now that it's done, I have some ample time for some social updates.

I've written a script for a movie while updating some of my personal sites, this blog and some social networking domains.

I'm on Twitter and FB now. But, I'll be blogging when I find the time; hoping that time does not warp away to somewhere-land real fast.

Fast is good; but not too fast. We need to sometimes slowdown; to have a look back at our memories.

Memories are what we were; and they will equip us with some intuitions into our future.

Bye for now and B-KOOL while I'm warping off to somewhere-land.