It's the terror of knowing
What this world is about
Watching some good friends
Screaming 'Let me out'
Pray tomorrow - gets me higher
Pressure on people - people on streets
Turned away from it all like a blind man
Sat on a fence but it don't work
Keep coming up with love
but it's so slashed and torn
Why?
Love
Insanity laughs under pressure we're cracking
Can't we give ourselves one more chance?
Why can't we give love that one more chance?
'Cause love's such an old fashioned word
And love dares you to care for
The people on the edge of the night
And love dares you to change our way of
Caring about ourselves
This is our last dance
This is ourselves
Under pressure
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
page 126...
'Social life, he said, echoing Jolande's story about the doctor, has to be based on a certain degree of trust, on being on the same wavelength. When you have too many people whose culture and values are utterly different from your own, that trust can no longer be sustained. Even with his closest Muslim friends, he said, he felt that he could never be sure that they had the same understanding, the same references, the same sense of humour"'
page 116...
Excerpt from Murder in Amsterdam by Ian Buruma:
' Did his father ever regret having come to the Netherlands? "No, he didn't, because he sacrified everything for us to have a better life. He wanted me to become a doctor, the safest option. He doesn't understand why I wanted to become an architect. He thinks I'm a kind of bricklayer."
Farhane speaks Dutch to his brothers. With his parents he speaks Berber as well as Dutch. "About fifty-fifty", he said. Samir, the architect, said he still felt "like a guest in this country." I asked Farhane whether he ever felt Dutch. "Neither Dutch, nor Moroccan," he replied. What if Holland plays soccer against Morocco? "Then I'm for Morocco, for sure! But if I had to choose between a Dutch passport and a Moroccan one, I would choose the Netherlands. You have to think of your interests. A Moroccan passport would be useless. But with soccer I can choose for my own blood."'
' Did his father ever regret having come to the Netherlands? "No, he didn't, because he sacrified everything for us to have a better life. He wanted me to become a doctor, the safest option. He doesn't understand why I wanted to become an architect. He thinks I'm a kind of bricklayer."
Farhane speaks Dutch to his brothers. With his parents he speaks Berber as well as Dutch. "About fifty-fifty", he said. Samir, the architect, said he still felt "like a guest in this country." I asked Farhane whether he ever felt Dutch. "Neither Dutch, nor Moroccan," he replied. What if Holland plays soccer against Morocco? "Then I'm for Morocco, for sure! But if I had to choose between a Dutch passport and a Moroccan one, I would choose the Netherlands. You have to think of your interests. A Moroccan passport would be useless. But with soccer I can choose for my own blood."'
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Carpe diem!
We live, we die,
We learn how to cry.
For pain, for love,
Or for all the above.
In truth our tears,
Are not out of fear.
But because of lost time,
To say what's on our minds.
To be stuck with "what if?"
Because you felt stiff,
And not had the balls,
To go risk it all.
So one must feel brave,
To not take regrets to your grave.
And seize the day,
To keep sorrow at bay!
We learn how to cry.
For pain, for love,
Or for all the above.
In truth our tears,
Are not out of fear.
But because of lost time,
To say what's on our minds.
To be stuck with "what if?"
Because you felt stiff,
And not had the balls,
To go risk it all.
So one must feel brave,
To not take regrets to your grave.
And seize the day,
To keep sorrow at bay!
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Bourgeoisie versus proletariat?
Why is it that the politically-saavy urban middle class folks seem to be so much less concerned about their rural counterparts? In all the discourse about democracy, freedom and human rights, there seems to be a lack of mentioning of the plight of the rural peoples. What do they want? Has anyone bothered to ask?
The online press and the so-called "new media practitioners"(who are the worst offenders) often only report what is being discussed among urban middle-class civil society, but rarely give much of, if any coverage about the rural poor (or for that matter, also the urban poor). Unless of course there happens to be a by election going on at the time. All that you read in the media, new and old alike, is mostly just the kind of he-says-she-says coverage of the "upper echelons of society", i.e. politicians, artsy-fartsy-I-read-Kafka-and-Dostoyevsky types and kopitiam political analysts (who probably mostly get their fix at a Starbucks just so they can use the free WiFi to "stay connected").
Reporting of rural peoples are often reduced to "horny father rapes daughter" or "mak cik who sells pisang goreng for 20 years decides to sell fried cempedak and makes it big by buying a kancil". Stories that are either trying to give you the impression that rural folks are hillbillies or that are trying to make you go "aaawwww...poor people are so cute" like they're some race of fuzzy little bunnies.
While one could always point out that it's more difficult to get the poor and rural peoples organized (because they actually have to work hard for a living!), why haven't any of their urban iPod-carrying, camera-snapping, blog-reading, Obama-lovin', facebook-ing, twittering, feminist, civil rights activist, indie musician, actor/artist wannabe brethen reached across the divide to find out what's up in say...Sekinchan! Or Kuala Lipis? Just as an exercise to understand what matters to people in different parts of the country.
Thus far, the only references to the plight of the poor in this "struggle for democracy" are mostly used within the context of making the arguments of those who are speaking out to sound more credible. "Be fair to all races in order to help the poor!", is often the tag line. On the most part, it would seem to be mere lipservice rather than a show of any real genuine concern, because how many people really elaborate on what are these poor people issues? It gives the impression that somehow it is only possible to get rid of poverty only after you get rid of race.
It can't be denied that city dwellers have access to more means of communication and hence are able to air their issues better. So perhaps it might take some effort on the part of the city slickers to help bring rural issues to the table and into the media at large.
Otherwise, whatever "change" that comes next will only serve to disenfranchise the poorer urban and rural classes, and we might just move from race-based politics only to end up in a situation of class-based politics much like in many parts of the world. And class in many cases is just as ugly as race.
The online press and the so-called "new media practitioners"(who are the worst offenders) often only report what is being discussed among urban middle-class civil society, but rarely give much of, if any coverage about the rural poor (or for that matter, also the urban poor). Unless of course there happens to be a by election going on at the time. All that you read in the media, new and old alike, is mostly just the kind of he-says-she-says coverage of the "upper echelons of society", i.e. politicians, artsy-fartsy-I-read-Kafka-and-Dostoyevsky types and kopitiam political analysts (who probably mostly get their fix at a Starbucks just so they can use the free WiFi to "stay connected").
Reporting of rural peoples are often reduced to "horny father rapes daughter" or "mak cik who sells pisang goreng for 20 years decides to sell fried cempedak and makes it big by buying a kancil". Stories that are either trying to give you the impression that rural folks are hillbillies or that are trying to make you go "aaawwww...poor people are so cute" like they're some race of fuzzy little bunnies.
While one could always point out that it's more difficult to get the poor and rural peoples organized (because they actually have to work hard for a living!), why haven't any of their urban iPod-carrying, camera-snapping, blog-reading, Obama-lovin', facebook-ing, twittering, feminist, civil rights activist, indie musician, actor/artist wannabe brethen reached across the divide to find out what's up in say...Sekinchan! Or Kuala Lipis? Just as an exercise to understand what matters to people in different parts of the country.
Thus far, the only references to the plight of the poor in this "struggle for democracy" are mostly used within the context of making the arguments of those who are speaking out to sound more credible. "Be fair to all races in order to help the poor!", is often the tag line. On the most part, it would seem to be mere lipservice rather than a show of any real genuine concern, because how many people really elaborate on what are these poor people issues? It gives the impression that somehow it is only possible to get rid of poverty only after you get rid of race.
It can't be denied that city dwellers have access to more means of communication and hence are able to air their issues better. So perhaps it might take some effort on the part of the city slickers to help bring rural issues to the table and into the media at large.
Otherwise, whatever "change" that comes next will only serve to disenfranchise the poorer urban and rural classes, and we might just move from race-based politics only to end up in a situation of class-based politics much like in many parts of the world. And class in many cases is just as ugly as race.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
La vie en rodent...
I once saw a French mouse,
In a Parisian house.
He wore a burret,
Said "Oui, oui! Mon cheri!"
As he wiggled his bum,
That fat little chum.
Beer mug in his hand,
He laughed while he danced.
Along with his pals,
And some nice lookin' gals.
Sang odes to love,
And to the bright lights above.
In the city of lights,
deep into the night.
This band of lil' mice,
Sure had a good life!
In a Parisian house.
He wore a burret,
Said "Oui, oui! Mon cheri!"
As he wiggled his bum,
That fat little chum.
Beer mug in his hand,
He laughed while he danced.
Along with his pals,
And some nice lookin' gals.
Sang odes to love,
And to the bright lights above.
In the city of lights,
deep into the night.
This band of lil' mice,
Sure had a good life!
Friday, June 5, 2009
Alhamdullilah...
So the professor from Pakistan I've emailed to get information about food safety and Islamic food law just replied to me after more than a month.
He said he sent me 7 articles that he wrote by post just this week and told me it took him some time because of the current conditions that he has to put up with - facing daily electricity outtages as a result of the current violence that is plaguing Pakistan.
Words cannot begin to describe how appreciative I am and guilty at the same time for his efforts. The fact that he kept his word despite the fact that it would be so much easier to forget about it (and anyone would totally understand) leaves me greatly humbled and in admiration of his determination and integrity.
At the same time, at least this gives me all the more motivation to do my best for this thesis and present something that will hopefully be good and readable.
I may not be Muslim, but I think it's appropriate at this moment to say: Alhamdullilah.
He said he sent me 7 articles that he wrote by post just this week and told me it took him some time because of the current conditions that he has to put up with - facing daily electricity outtages as a result of the current violence that is plaguing Pakistan.
Words cannot begin to describe how appreciative I am and guilty at the same time for his efforts. The fact that he kept his word despite the fact that it would be so much easier to forget about it (and anyone would totally understand) leaves me greatly humbled and in admiration of his determination and integrity.
At the same time, at least this gives me all the more motivation to do my best for this thesis and present something that will hopefully be good and readable.
I may not be Muslim, but I think it's appropriate at this moment to say: Alhamdullilah.
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