Fuck the future.

I just moved into my brother's house last Monday.

I mean, I moved into my brother's house yesterday. With house, I refer to a number of feet times a number of feet square space with neither people to talk to nor a television to lay my eyes on. Or anything that's usually used to describe what home is.

There was a cyber cafe down there; still operating using the windows XP service pack two on a fifteen inch cathode ray tube monitor.Vintage and pathetic at it's best.

So I manage to get myself an interview today. A writer post for quite an established company. Writing for them means I'm writing for the likes of dato-dato and tan sri's of Malaysia.

Amazing, ain't it?

There was eight person in the company's lounge. Three of them were there for their second phase of the interview which pretty much concluded that they already passed the first phase of the interview; writing test.

Among the eight were a journalism graduate, Melbourne International College Journalism's head of program, a Karam Singh Walia look-alike psycho, a total American's accent blonde and a sixty years old granny who barely see a fucking letter.


Now that I'm breathing the air of unemployment, fuck the future!


Of going back home.

One thing about heading home that I hate the most is facing those narrow minded peeps who narrow minded-ly think that I'm going to stuck behind those windows calculating and approving money withdrawal on the fact that I'm doing some motherfucking banking stuff in my university.

Now that I'm graduating, I had them only one question.

That fuckable daughter of theirs, where did she got her bitching qualification? Since I can't recalled any college or university offer neither sixty nine nor deep throating courses here in Malaysia.

And then I'll say "Pardon my english!"


Rules #4 : On my own.

So I finally finished my degree level and counting my days in this lovely town of Shah Alam. It's a pretty emotional days to live, you know, considering how awesome I've been for the past two and a half years here.

Next step is to pack my stuffs, find myself a small but comfortable room at a very reasonable price, also a number of hangable lads who don't mind listen to my shit all night long and then, to start things all over again. First thing first, I need to find myself a well paid job.

This is the part that worried my mom the most. She kind of always stressing out that she didn't really see of where my future lies. Yeah, I don't too.

Both my younger brother and sister was into the teaching profession which mean that they were guaranteed a job right after their graduation. Or two month after, that was the very least. My brother have already celebrating his first salary last month while I was here, asking my girlfriend a few bucks for the thesis printing cost.

You see, it was all written but never will I blame Him.

My future, I believed that it was really up to me to choose mine. My call. And if I fall, it wasn't of Him. It's either because I didn't foot myself on where it should be or I misjudged my fucking step. Maybe I missed the 'wet floor' sign. Some monkeys irresponsibly threw this banana peels away, no?

I made a life of my own. And I will fight for it the same way I've ruined it. Even harder.

I shall start by being a fucken atheist. May I?



I categorized myself as an independent team player who don't bother to say 'hi' on every single morning I passed upon your desk. Not that I am lacking any communication skill that you and your company required and neither I arrogant.

I don't do drugs.
I don't entertains poolitics.
And I will blog about how stupid my top divisions are.

Oh, how I too love to rush things on dateline date. I believe that is when my hidden potential truly revealed.

Fuckin hire me, please.