HWM 1st Anniversary Celebrations @ Low Yat

HWM carnival stage.

This is Hardware MAG Malaysia (HWM) organizing their 1st anniversary
celebrations at the square in front of Low Yat Plaza. I was in the area
Saturday evening and noticed the air filled structures so I hung around
and took a couple of photos. It was meant to go up yesterday, but I
wrote about other stuff instead. Here you go – a day late, but not a
dollar short, unlike some other posts…the XM buka puasa one comes to
mind. πŸ™‚ Speaking of which, I applied for emergency unpaid leave today
to sort out my remaining graduation issues which had to be done today
and also went to a doctor. I actually have medical insurance cards
issued by my company, but I’ve never used it and I never will, due to
the insurance company’s liberal disclosure policy. Poor Hippocrates of
Chios…with this and the hospital – police unholy matrimony, he’ll be
rolling in his grave if he weren’t reduced to dust already. πŸ˜‰

Here’s the carnival photos:


Unfortunately, the bull did not like being straddled like cattle.

The (reverse) bungee run.

Adidas mini golf putting.

Angle looks promising…and she did sink it.

The unpopular Rocky Mountain at the far corner.

One of the staff tried to scale it but failed. May should have been there to show them how it’s done. πŸ˜‰

Sticky Jump…watch this guy.

Reverse somersault.

Two clowns leaving the event…one walking and the other on an small
bicycle that did not scale well with his stature. The air blown dancing
man is featured at the entrance.

This post was brought to you by sheer willpower and the letters M and B.

It’s a Sesame Street joke, nothing else lar.

Anyway, I shall refrain from writing posts that like the previous
one. I think the Book of Asian Etiquette dictates that issues of that
nature should be discussed only within the family. I wonder which way I
should go:

I’m keeping an eye out for the grim reaper. (Wary)


I don’t give two shits about his scythe. (Exhausted)

I’m leaning towards the latter, and yeah the photos were taken just
a couple of minutes ago. I’m really tired, as you can see. Dead tired.

This is the last time issues like this are going to be shared
publicly. sixthseal.com will be put on a course of SSRIs starting
tomorrow, so expect light, fun and easy to read posts! It’s a fucking
blog after all, and like most people, I would have no problem churning
out “happy posts”, regardless of the actual state I’m in. There were
actually several episodes during ever since I started the blog in April
2001, but I’ve only mentioned it once.

There was a really bad one where I had to struggle with a
surprisingly dark void and suicidal ideations every fucking night. I
wondered if it would actually hurt and set my obligations in order, I
wanted it to be clean and DOA, not some fucking suicide attempt to
attract attention (no offence intended for those who do this), and I
was going to do it right. This was the third night, and well, again, I
mean no offence, but the people who wonders why someone would
contemplate the final solution has never been in a real serotonin
depletion before.

The best way word to describe it is “sheer and utter hopelessness”,
in the strongest sense of the word. The first two nights were test
runs, and it became clear that I don’t need to worry about chickening
out due to my impulsive personality. I can say “Now” and my body obeys,
without latency, it won’t go “Har?”, “Come again?” or “Shit, are we
really going to do this?”. He’s a good guy, follows orders. πŸ˜‰ Whether
that’s a gift or a curse is something I’ve yet to ascertain. Heh.

The first two nights were spent kneeling down and feminizing about
past memories and I’m not afraid to say some tears were involved as
well, but I had convinced myself that it was for the best, I’m a fuckup
and my life is going fucking nowhere and my lifestyle is self
destructive, I wasn’t going to be nobody and I wanted to be everything
in kindergarten. I’ll say again, sheer and utter hopelessness. πŸ™‚

People close to me no doubt noticed a certain attitude change and
got me out of bed and into the population, which I must thank for
prolonging the decision. πŸ™‚ I think my parents were pretty sure about
the general direction I was heading and it did made me sad but the
depression was so overwhelming that it’s just something that register
and made me cry, but didn’t change my mind. I was afraid of going to
hell. I feel bad for leaving my parents and sister behind, but it was
hopeless, most people would agree that.

And you know what? I didn’t miss a fucking post (technically one,
explained below) during all that. I hardly got out of bed, and the only
thing I did was to switch on the PC, post a photo from my personal
archives and write something witty. Replying comments were easy those
days, since I didn’t have a commenting system! Heh! I’ll eat my mouse
(and mine is not optical, so I might choke on the ball) if anyone
except close friends and family knew anything was wrong with me at that
time. I could be dragged out, and acted relatively normal, though a lot
of time was spent planning the final solution.

Well, there’s technically one daily post missing but it had two the
other day so that means it’s still daily – this was the old HTML blog
which the majority of you would not have come across, and my standards
for daily were different then, will explain some other time. Anyway,
the first two nights were spent kneeling beside the suitcase and
regretting everything I’ve done and how things would be different if
the several identified incidents did not happen. Making the decision
made me serene, there weren’t any more desperate and crazy sounding
fast repetitions of mantras while facing the side off white wall and I
stopped needing to stuff my fist into my mouth to distract myself.

It obviously won’t work for everyone, but stuffing fists into my
mouth and the common “making myself trip” and fall to get an injury
were the more common distractions I used to drown out all the guilt and
craziness swimming around my brain. My mom called it “craziness” but
didn’t bother too much about it since I had other more socially
noticeable manifestations then, which she called “habits”. The advances
in research has enlightened most people (except Neanderthals) about the
various neurotransmitters that has been isolated and several classes of
prescription drugs went into the market, which effectively managed
“craziness” (which is now called GAD) and “habits” (which is now called
OCD). πŸ˜‰

She caught me once when I was 9 or 10, I scraped my knee by
“accidentally” fell outside when I excused myself to “go for a walk”,
but it wasn’t deep enough and I had a lot of worries that day, so it
wasn’t satisfactory. The pain must be something that you feel
constantly, or else it won’t work. I made a lot of mistakes when I was
younger, I’ve never told a soul about some of them, and this was one of
the big ones. No one knows about it, but it was not something that gets
a simple slap on the wrist, if you get what I mean. I’m was very young,
but what I did then would get me in prison for decades and whipped if I
did it now. No, it’s not drugs, and I won’t say what it is anyway.

Well, about the funny (in hindsight) falls, I did it again, with a
rougher concrete surface, but it just wasn’t enough. I’ll tell you that
shit will hit the fan if what I did was found out, but it never did
happen. And before any of you judge me, yes I have a conscience and
yes, I do feel guilty, but I can’t do anything to rectify the situation
now so full stop. Well, I didn’t find the second one would last me
through the night (it was evening then) so I knelt down and scraped the
lacerations on the concrete carpark to do it right. Unbeknownst to me,
my mom had come out to water the plants and has been noticing the
admittedly unusual fall. She did grill me a bit, but yeah that time was
one I remembered the house being full of emotional instabilities.

Those were tricks I used to control situations when I was in primary
school. I favor the fists then since it’s really hard to fit into your
mouth and you must fit the whole thing AND hold it in there till it
hurts. It’s a short term treatment, something you run off into the
toilet to do three fists into mouth inserts when someone talks about
something that makes you feel guilty. The wall of insanity (but it
keeps you sane) was from way back, I’ve been using that technique since
I was young. We didn’t have exactly have Xanax (alprazolam) at that
time you know. πŸ˜‰

Anyway, there is a reason I digressed into my coping techniques when
I was younger, but that comes later. This is the third night, and the
funny thing is, things like “Oh, I haven’t been to (some country)”,
“There’s so much to live for!” and “You’re wasting your life by ending
it at it’s prime” never came into my mind. It was moot, I didn’t care
about those things anymore, I just wanted to be free from the
debilitating depression. I couldn’t help but be a little out of
character on the third night…I said “I love you all” and that “I
believe in God” to my parents, and emotionally, I feel the “feelings”
of sadness, but I think it’s for the best. I’m the black sheep of my
family and I don’t want them to have to worry about me all the time.

It’s everything that snowballs into one huge motherfucker with
“Reasons to Kill Yourself” rolling down the hill at you. The
uncertainty from two years back (which I’m also not talking about since
it’s serious), the guilt from indiscretions and lies, even the dusty
window, they all add up and jumble together, so you’re left with no
options. I turned off ICQ, said I was going to play Counter-Strike and
that causes problems with the sound. I called my gf and told her I was
extremely sleepy so I’ll have to go to sleep and the battery of the
cell is low, so I’ll turn it off while it charges.

I was alone. I felt sad, but it’s mind boggling, I felt happy
too! I wrote long emails saying that it’s not their fault, I just
fucked up, they were the best parents I could hope for and all that. I
meant every single word I said. I wrote confession letters to some
other people and set the mails to go out the next morning,, which I
think my death would not have been noticed yet.

I knelled by the black suitcase and prayed for forgiveness (hey, you
never know) and took in a deep breath and said “Go!” in my brain, which
is how I do stuff I’m not willing to do and for fucks sake, my other
phone rang! I swear it sounds cheesy enough to go into a B movie, but
then it was dark at that time, and I also didn’t want to say something
which was another major factor in the decisions. This is not a
confessional post, certain details does not have to be included. :p

Anyway, the caller was my dad – he was really worried because my
parents agreed that I was acting extremely strange today. I laughed it
off and said I’m perfectly fine, just wanted to play CS that’s all, and
I really have to get back to the game. Suddenly my dad said that no
parent wants their child to die before them. I laughed lightly and
said, what are you thinking? I’m perfectly fine, but fuck, atmospheric
moisture started to find my ocular region a nice place to settle. I
didn’t know what to do, but I had everything prepared and it would be
so easy, but what my dad said kept bothering me.

I stood at the side off white wall and started chanting, I was
pacing back and forth, breaking the rule of ensuring maximum
concentration. I thought about everything, but the top two suicide
reasons were dominating. Did it happen or was I just tripping? The
second one went, you know about that, it’s a fucking teenage mistake. I
don’t want to know, I want to go like this, the way I choose! The
flashback of the first reason came then and I was crying coz I was sure
it’s not a ring, it’s something else and I didn’t even say “Go”, I
wanted the choice and this is the only choice!

I’m still here am I not? πŸ™‚ Suicide is a very easy way out in severe
depression, and I’m sure most of you who has experienced that would
agree. I would have killed myself the first time, I was going to ignore
the phone and just do it, but the sound shocked me since I thought I
had turned off all the communications. When I think about the things
I’ve been through, I’ll say I’m one lucky motherfucker. Devine
intervention would be blasphemous. πŸ™‚

I didn’t tell you what went on after the phone call interrupted, I
still went for it coz it didn’t look like a ring (please don’t ask) but
this time, I couldn’t do it. I kept on thinking about what my father
said and I remembered very vividly the events that happened when my
paternal grandfather died. My father was devastated while his brothers
didn’t seem to be to my 12 year old eyes. This is when my hand turned
on me, it’s fucking silly, I know, but I don’t want to kill myself
anymore, but my hand wanted to because it was not a fucking ring!

I didn’t dare to let the thoughts go on, no rings, no beer bottles,
no three fingers. I fucking ran out of the door and ran as fast as I
could several times around the jogging track by the pond until I threw
up. I didn’t dare to walk back, since I was still thinking about the
ring, because it’s not one! That’s just the first issue, and the other
ones stacked up there would have to be slowly forgotten, but the two,
which I will call Not Ring and Satria, interconnected even due to the
distance, will always haunt me.

I started getting into a negative loop again when I reached my room
and fuck, this must be Deux Ex Machina day, coz Jimmy was there and
wanted to go for pizza. I was considering whether to go or not, before
I finally said, fuck everything, I’m going to Monash Pizza and I’m
going to eat Chicken pizza with BBQ sauce and anchovies and prawns on
top. The serotonin levels started filling up a couple of days after
that. I wasn’t suicidal anymore after that day, though I was still
depressed and slept most of the day.

I still get severe depression and debilitating anxiety for two weeks
every time I subconsciously think of those two issues, benzodiazepines
works wonders in increasing the latency and reducing the severity of
the episodes. I should not have written this though, didn’t know what
passed me, I don’t want to her about those two things ever again. No
one except my parents and sister knows what the two biggies are and why
it would drive someone to suicide. No one knows about that disgraceful
crime that happened when I was 9 or 10, and I’m not telling anyone
about that. It’s technically the worst thing I’ve ever done, but it’s
the past now and let bygones be bygones.

Blood is always thicker than water. I don’t know anyone who would have stopped me except for my family.

Notice: The writing above that starts with the sentence
“There was a really bad one where I had to struggle with a surprisingly
dark void and suicidal ideations every fucking night.” is complete
fiction. Any similarities to events in real life is purely

I was compelled to write tonight and it took up more time than I
expected, so I’ll have to go to sleep now. Your feedback is appreciated
and I’ll reply every one tomorrow. We shall look forward to a happier
sixthseal.com content and a decrease in the superfluous usage of the
f-word, unless it’s justified. Too much fucking around going on lately.

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