Of My Moleskine Notebook

Sometimes I wonder if I have a disability that causes me to act a bit spastical when I’m not. I get all excited and giddy and start rocking in my chair back and forth with a big grin on my face, just rocking and rocking till I burn out and forget what I was excited about anyway. I don’t even think spastical is a word, and even if it isn’t, does it make me an imperialist for defining actions as spastical? Because I have nothing against disabled people. They deserve a lot of attention, but certainly the goverment can’t give that because they’re too busy repainting the new putrajaya tower or what not. I’m not even sure about any towers in putrajaya, or maybe there is one in the big palace of justice but that im not so sure either, since, you know, it IS a building. With a dome. Or something.

So yeah, I go to a cafe right? And I’m there, taking out my book and looking through my dictionary because I can’t really understand half of the words, and stuff, on my book, or paper, I forgot, and I was like; yeah. Anyway, suddenly this guy comes over right, and says, hi can I sit here? And of course I say yeah, the whole cafe is practically packed with people smoking cigarettes and having coffee or what not, though some people are having lunch, and stuff coz it is Malaysia and cafes serve eggs on toast. And stuff. So this guy is like 50 over, and the conference bag thing he carries says something on top, I forgot, and, hey, he’s old. So yeah he’s starting classes and I’m like oh ok. And really, I didn’t know what to say.

Same goes to the time in class, the preparation class and my teacher gives us these papers which are photocopied and they had movie posters on top and so she asked our opinion on the movies. So like, yeah, my friend gave her opinion first because she speaks the language fluent and I’m nodding and agreeing because I understand her but I really didnt know what to say. My head was calculating stuff again and again like how it does in scrabble, going ok,okokok, what are we gonna do now? And suddenly right, my teacher looks at me and asks me what I think about Scary Movie 3. So yeah, I say I don’t really like it because it’s not real and I started crapping about how blatant and empty it is because it doesn’t have social or cultural aspects and.. stuff and my teacher just nodded and the whole class was quiet and like, blah, and I’m like, shit, my teacher must think I’m a total idiot and stuff and she was nodding and acting like she agreed with me, though I don’t know, I know she likes Brad Pitt or something.

I don’t know man. I seldom talk like this right. And like, it’s just so far out.

What’s in a game? A game that has an objective after it’s many twists and turns and pieces of confusion alike. What’s in an objective of a game? Play to win.
Three words I have read so many times in the same order of sequence. Like a mantra or a magic wish that might just come true if recollected about often enough. Play to win, play to win, play to win, play to win.

Play. Win.

In a game with an objective, there is the main winner, there is the main loser. Shades of gray do not count at the first basic stage, because right now, on the first game, everything is simple. You’ve got practically nothing to lose, except for the reputation of not losing.

So you play, you calculate, back fire, launch and block. You score, and realise it was an opening slot for your opponent, who strikes back and puts you back in your first square in three steps in clacks of four. But you win nonetheless. May be by a slight pinch. May be by a landslide. Either way, triumph under your nails have never felt so good before.

So you play yet another game. And become a statistic. Or win. Again.

These past few months have had me in that situation. A cold slaughter of an innocent mind of another if not my own. Not to refer to a real board game, but to life itself. I realised that the more mannered and polite the game is to be, the even more cruel torture it causes.

The instinct to win is not from the inside of us. It is merely a whole new person entirely which takes up your anatomy with the sole desire to conquer. It’s a state of mind, a whole new person in psychosomatic format, burned into a disk, to be taken out at times of needed will. In other words, the winner is Winzipped and kept away.

Like what Yasmin Ahmad once said, something about the people who are the closest to you that hurt you the most. Well, the winner is you, and when she is down and feeling revengeful, she attacks. She hurts. The winner plays to win over you. The loser made empty shell of useless tactics and strategies.

So tell me, if you were playing a cold hearted game of two players with limited time aside. And that other Winner came in.

What would happen?