One Resilient Boy With a Cool Scar

I guess I forgot to update here, so I will consolidate my posts into one.

One and a half months ago, after going back and forth, getting my hope up and down and delays because of my own problem, it was confirmed that my dog Locky had to be operated to remove tumors on his head and below his left eye. We were worried about the one in the head because it was growing, and the size was significant. Tumor, as scary as it sounds, is the term given for every unusual growth; it could be benign or malignant.

It was an emotionally exhausting day, but we came home together. Locky has kidney issues, irregular heartbeat, and reverse sneezing (while all these don’t give him troubles, they increase his risk significantly in how he would respond to anesthetic); it didn’t help that several dogs we knew didn’t wake up from the anesthetic. So, those couple of months had driven me crazy, and the possibility of him not coming home with me after the operation paralyzed me with fear. 

Thankfully, here he was.

The recovery was challenging, especially for him, since he had to wear a big cone, and I can imagine the pain and discomfort. The stitches were scary, and after changing the dressing the bandage didn’t stay because his hair had started to grow, so I had to improvise a bandana. Most day, I needed to redress his wound twice daily. Above all, the waiting time for the biopsy result was terrifying.

However, the little guy was resilient and in high spirit, and endured all those processes. Look at his smile!

Finally, we got the result about two weeks ago, one month after the operation. It’s benign! It’s such great news. I can’t express how much it means to me. The test took very long because they needed to add a more advanced process, using specific ‘coloring’ because it was hard to detect some cells without that (a direct translation, I know nothing), which of course, didn’t help my anxiety.

And a week ago, he is out on the beach again!

At first, he couldn’t play in the water and had to be kept on leash.

But now, he is free again, rocking a cool scar and a biggest smile.

Life is good again.

I have forgotten how I used to live my life before him. He is my sunshine.

Another Spooky Tale for Halloween

 

Something terrifying is happening to me right now: my book sales have been flatlining for quite a while. I have no one to blame but myself because I suck in getting them out there. I'm not a fan of advertisements, so I also don't wish to subject others to advertisements about my books, and that earned me virtual smacks from several online acquaintances who tried their best not to yell at me, "How do you sell anything if you never tell anyone?"

Okay, I tell people through this newsletter. I am sorry you are the unlucky lots, but I feel safe hiding here. I almost always put my books down there after you are sick of scrolling unless I have a new book coming up or a promotion, which hardly crossed my mind. Not because I am stingy, but because I am really bad at this marketing stuff.

So here we go; I am trying and sorry for this!

Get In Ora for 0.99 on 1st & 2nd November 2024ZC1RM

Now that we've got it out of the way, in the spirit of October and the actual day of Halloween, as promised, I am here to share another creepy real story. This was told by my dad.

My dad worked in remote, untouched jungles from when he was a teenager until his forties. Yes, he was barely there during my childhood. I remember thinking, 'Hey, this stranger is very nice to me', not registering that he was my dad during one of his rare times at home, but he worked hard to provide for us. He is the best dad, and he has a lot of stories to share about his time in the jungle. While those stories are weird, they are 'normal,' about his work conditions, wild animals they encountered, the exploration of untouched areas, etc. He is a very honest person; I don't remember him telling a lie to me or anyone; he is the kind of person who would rather not answer you instead of lying, even for fun purposes.

So, this one story of his sent a shiver down our spines when he told us. It didn't help that he was also visibly uncomfortable, something I rarely witnessed. You must have heard some permutations of this in movies or fiction before, but this happened to my dad.

It took place in our small town in west Borneo near noon time during his walk (it was normal to walk around, not every place was reachable by public transportation), he came across an acquaintance who was also walking somewhere across the street, so my dad called him up. It was someone he knew quite well, and Dad wanted to check on him, knowing the person (let's call him John) had some ongoing health issue. So, Dad asked if John was feeling better, and John answered something along the lines of "It's fine," although it was not straightforward because he seemed distracted. It's like when you talk to a person whose mind is somewhere else, but he is still able to hold the conversation. They talked for a while, and Dad got the sense that John might be in a hurry because now he realized there was someone standing a distance away, and he was waiting for John.

According to Dad, the waiting man was unremarkable; nothing stood out or memorable; he couldn't even remember his face and the man never said anything. Thinking of nothing, Dad ended the conversation and let John go. John walked up to the person waiting, and they both walked away together while Dad made his way home.

On that very same day, he heard the news that John had passed away, but it didn't add up because John had passed since morning, and Dad met him around noon, a couple of hours after that. However, his family was with him, and they all confirmed the time and the fact that John had never left the house.

I hardly think about it, but for some, they continue to look for answers about the afterlife and what will happen after we take our last breaths. Does this mean we at least have someone to guide us? Is he some kind of grim reaper or just someone to show the way? I don't know, I am not really curious about afterlife. For Dad, he always wonders what would happen if he didn't let John go or insisted on having a cup of coffee or bringing him back to his home? I guess we'll never know. It has never happened again, but this story is embedded forever in our minds.

There you go, enjoy the spooky spooky for those who celebrate it. I'll eat some candy bars as a form of solidarity.

Do You Have Spooky Tales?

This is not Locky trying to be spooky. He just tested if he was big enough to cover my TV (15inch monitor). Why do other things when you have a dog, right?

It’s October. I don’t celebrate Halloween, it’s not something common where I am. Yes, the cinemas here are populated by horror movies, but that is common all year round. What’s up with that? I guess the market is good, and most probably, horror movies require smaller budgets. Make everything dark, there are many settings that already look scary, adapt local urban legends and true terrifying stories, make it even darker; the recipe for good profit margins is there. I have only watched a few horror movies in my life, but this is not my opinion only because I have heard other similar inputs: Indonesia and generally Asian horror movies are the scariest horrors.

To be fair, Indonesia is very mystical. We have plenty of scary beings. I’m not sure what to call that, but there are many creatures out there with A LOT of eyewitnesses. There are many jungles and unexplored places. I have heard actual scary tales from my friends, my dad, and people I trust and witnessed weird stuff myself.

The ones I witnessed were ‘indirect.’ Back then, I went on many camping trips, from junior high school to university. They were not those fun camping, but we went to remote areas to learn about survivalism, explorations, and expeditions. The most modernized gadgets we had were magnetic compasses; I am not even sure it’s easy to find one now. We relied on paper maps (if any) and almost no communication methods. On more proper and bigger scale explorations, the organizer would have walkie-talkies, but that was all.

I witnessed on three separate occasions of my fellow campers being ‘possessed.’ I wasn’t sure what they did; we didn’t go around and disturb old burials or anything, although we came across them on some trips. Our activities were educational and responsible, and everyone I knew held up to those values. I still remember some of the mottos: kill nothing but time, take nothing by pictures or keep nothing but memories, and leave nothing but footprints. We were not those hippies, Instagram nuts nowadays who climbed Balinese sacred mountain, went butt-naked on the peak, posted on social media, and were deported for it. Idiots. Disrespectful idiots.

However, it happened. I didn’t get too close to them, but it was surreal to witness. I could see the physical transformations, no, not those elaboration movie styles, but the people possessed looked different. They screamed, they cursed, and their eyes went wild, bulging and sometimes red. They were unrecognizable, and their facial expressions were intense, not those we normally see unless we go to extreme lengths to make faces, and even so, it would not be easy to duplicate. One looked extremely angry, while the other was confused and wailing; one had to be held down because he started to destroy things. The weird similarity, fortunately, was that they were all staying in relatively the same area, as they didn’t go around, go wild, actively attack people, harm themselves, or go missing. On these occasions, the organizers would seclude the rest of us in a distance while a team of them would try to calm, negotiate, talk, and maybe pray. All of us would stay in silence and just hoped it would pass soon. It could take some time and even hours, but eventually, the person would pass out and wake up with no memory of what had happened. Fortunately, no one was harmed on these occasions, but it could be traumatizing. 

My first experience was when I was just fourteen, and one of my schoolmates was up there on the table with contorted bodies, screaming in a language no one understood, and it happened subsequently to multiple other students. It didn’t help there was a storm that night, and we had to huddle together in some old abandoned school (maybe that was why?) Almost every student was crying, traumatized, and swore off similar activities. I’m also not sure if those organizers prepared for those kinds of events; I wouldn’t be surprised if they did. I was always a participant only in those bigger groups.

It might sound unbelievable; there might have been another explanation for why these people were going berserk. I keep my mind open, but from my experiences, it looked pretty legit to respect and maintain my peace.

In university, I joined an outdoor organization where the explorations went to even more remote areas. We were all students just doing our outdoor hobbies and some social work. Here, I was taught not to leave my mind empty because it would be easier to ‘occupy’ (not a problem for me because that nosy brain never stops talking); we had to respect everything and excuse ourselves when we entered strange/remote/abandoned areas. To my amazement, everything went smoothly. I never had scary incidents except for one questionable expedition. It was the smallest group I had been in, five of us climbing a stratovolcano mountain. Nothing spooky, actually, just weird. I saw a cat that night when we camped near the peak. Not a mountain cat, cougar, or whatever wild cat, but a black house cat. This was not a popular mountain, and it was the year 1997; we were the only one there and had to open our own trail, so it was a relatively untouched mountain. Is it weird to see a house cat there? I don’t know. I also heard regular wave-crashing-the-shore sounds, and we were very high (2800+ meters/9200+ feet), but I tried not to think about it and went on to sleep well.

There was a legend out there, which we obviously didn’t comply that we should always have an even number (for small groups) because otherwise, something would even it out for you. Maybe that was the purpose of the cat?

Those are spooky October stories for you. I have more but I don’t want to blabber too much.

I hope you are well over there, wherever you are. Whatever struggles, sorrows, or hardships you are trying to overcome, I am rooting for you to win the battle. Don't give up.

Take care, and thanks for being here, as always.

It Has Been A While

 

It has been a while. I was away for a family reunion and had an unexpected health issue that required hospitalization, but it’s all well now.

Before they knew what to do with me, I was put in a big room and wheeled here and there with many other patients. The room was full, filled with beds in every corner; some were even put in the middle. We never stayed in the same spot, they would take us to the X-ray room, Ultrasound, blood test, this corner for picture taking, and other corners for questioning, insurance, making sure you pay, interrogation, confession, presentation for your appliances’ expired warranty, etc. So, every staff member was busy and it was not easy to even ask for a pillow.  It was an A&E area where I had a chance to observe human vulnerability.

Obviously, due to the nature of hospitals, we are reminded about how dependent we are on all these technologies and other human beings during sickness. The feeling of being completely in others’ mercy, skills, and knowledge is humbling. I have watched too many true crimes and documentaries about how easy it is for people in the medical field to harm or mess up, but those didn’t bother me that day.

It was more about what I witnessed. I saw all kinds of people in one of their most vulnerable conditions. We wore ill-fitting issued clothes, and we were like lost puppies looking at the staff, trying to catch what they were whispering about, decipher the displays on the monitor, interpreting the hmm and the nods or head shakings, the dread of finding what made you there, the hope pairing with the anxiety of getting your turn, and the constant beeps of everything around. Many elderly were distraught and kept looking for their loved ones, mainly their children; some couldn’t even communicate.

It’s heartbreaking to witness the helplessness and vulnerability, and how amazing it is to see a face I am familiar with, my rock even when I am strong.

Oh well, I always think we are created with too many flaws, but someone would whack my head and say that makes us human. Whatever it is, I wish you all strength and happiness.

My schedule is messed up now, and I would need more time to prepare for my new book. However, your holiday is over! I am here to ramble again. Thank you for being here.

PNW Affliction I: Recycled

 

This is probably the first time I've read something in this format. The story picks up quickly, and I appreciate the author's backstories and explanations; they help when you read this book as a standalone.

We follow the main character, who sometimes talks to readers throughout the night. He is caught in an unfortunate situation and has to spend the night outside his home, trying to survive, which is the book's whole premise.

I wish to know the character and the plot better. I know bits and pieces of what the MC is like from how he looks at things, which is interesting, but I don't know the motivation and his actual purpose yet. I would love to better understand why someone like him, who is resourceful, fearless, and seems very logical, feels the need to spend the night out there, risking frostbite, instead of going home, somewhere nearby. I believe there will be more justifications to help me understand his choice in the subsequent books. It would be nice to have a clearer indication if the group he meets at the end is the perpetrator of the first incident or, at least, if it's related. It seems like he has another suspicion for another group of people.

Multiple scenes make me hopeful about the possibility of this turning into something epic (like the card), and everything is done for a reason. The ending opens the potential for more stories and answers to all questions. This book One feels a bit incomplete, but it starts well and captivates me to the end. It is easy to read, I like the writing style, the character is thought-provoking with many indications about the intriguing past that shaped him into what he is now. I like every detail, and this deserves a more complete assessment, so I'll read the follow-up book and return to this review.

You Are Not Alone

 

June is Male Mental Health Awareness Month, and Father’s Day also falls in June in many parts of the world.

Around 2002, I worked as a junior staff member in this big company, with multiple departments on multiple floors. My department (around a dozen people) was located next to another (around four-five dozen). The workflow sequence was from ours to theirs. I don’t need to liaise with them in Department 2 since I only did technical presentation work exclusive to Department 1. Still, I know their faces and sometimes their names because we shared communal facilities, and there were some team-building activities now and then.

I had a small lunch group of around five people or less. Sometimes, one or two people from Department 2 would join us, but it was rare. I didn’t really enjoy lunch for personal reasons (story for another day) and because working-hour lunch was hellish. Everywhere was jampacked, it was always rushed, it was harder to secure a table for a group, and before you finished half of your food, other patrons would stand behind you to wait for your seats. I don’t exaggerate this; it’s still happening now. So, the food court was a nightmare, but that was what most of us could afford.

One day, this middle-aged guy from 2 invited us for lunch in a more private restaurant. He had ‘booked’ us the day before. I knew him only from passing interactions as a nice, hardworking, quiet, respected, and polite guy. Sometimes, we exchanged small talk in the pantry, but I never had lunch with him. I wasn’t sure; it was only my first year, and most likely, one or two guys in my group had. Anyway, it was nice to have a peaceful meal once in a while, sitting in a comfortable restaurant without needing to rush. I didn’t know he could be very social and chatty; he was friendly and seemed happy to know us better.

The day after, he jumped to his death from his high-rise apartment.

He was a father of two, and no one, not even people who were so-called close to him, expected that. Twenty-two years now, it still makes me sad to think about how nobody knew what he was going through. I still don’t know why, and out of respect, I didn’t go around and ask. Most people just speculated, and it became a blurred line between reality and assumption.

I don’t need anyone to scream at me about depression doesn’t recognize gender etc. While it’s true, it’s also true that many men decide to face it themselves because they feel they can’t talk about it without prejudice. Sometimes, it’s a stigma, sometimes, they don’t think they have good support around them, and sometimes, they actually don’t have anyone to help them. Although the roles have shifted, most responsible men hold big burdens on their shoulders about what they should be in the family and society and work hard to be the pillar for everyone. It’s very tough, and I really respect them for that. I could only wish that everyone else could also be the pillar for them when they need it.

I want to share this video; it always gets me every time I watch it.

Many Happy Returns

 

We have just celebrated my dog’s 9th birthday two weeks ago. 

I have always loved dogs and almost went through the adoption process with a rescue shelter, but unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be (some scheduling and other issues). After that, I decided not to get a dog at all since I was traveling quite often, I didn't want to leave my dog in boarding houses often.

My colleague learned about it in a passing conversation, and a few weeks after that, she offered me a puppy for adoption. It was a coincidence there were three new puppies in her home (on top of the existing four dogs), and they couldn’t take care of all of them. Since she knew my difficulty, it came with a perk: I can put him with them whenever I travel.

My dream dog back then was a big dog, a mongrel, like the ones my family had. Mongrels dominate rescue shelters, as people here prefer pricey, purebred, ‘cute’ dogs. So, I was looking at this puppy picture and thought, oh dear, this looked like those fancy celebrity dogs. I hesitated, but how could I resist helping give this puppy a home with a perk that solved my problems?

When I brought him home, he was scrawny and smelly. He loved eating rocks and was scared of other puppies, waves, water, and the sea. He pooped on his bowl and tipped over everything. But he is the most intelligent dog, and with some training and patience, he becomes the most confident dog who surfs and is fearless. He is a well-behaved dog, never destroys anything, and has many toys because everything is as good as new, and he loves to play. No bias!

Here he is on his 9th birthday. He is my best friend, my companion, my therapy dog. He is not a lap dog; he would push me off with his paws for unsolicited cuddling (unless it’s pretty cold!), but whenever I am sad or angry, he would sit on my lap and nudge or lick away my sorrow until he is convinced that I am no longer sad or angry. One of the reasons I quit my job was because I wanted to spend more time with him. I arrange my life around him, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure he is happy. We have an unbreakable bond, and everyone says he takes after me. He doesn’t like people, screaming children, or high-pitched and repetitive sounds. We howl together every time an ambulance passes us in traffic and bark at the neighbor’s chickens when they get too rowdy.

These were the pictures sent to me before adoption. He was around two months old.

His first day with me at home, he was three and a half months old. The killer eyebrows! I know!

Now. Today. A wise and grumpy nine-year-old. Wishing for many more years together

Links to free short stories from authors with subscription. Maybe you will find some stories you like.

SF/F GIVEAWAY

 

Dial-up Internet

 

Whenever I meet with my friends (I only have a few, and it is dwindling), we always reminisce about good old times, well, of course, on top of health talk and how annoying it is to grow older. Another topic is about technology and the internet as we put on our best grumpy behaviors while squinting on the phone and cursing that everything needs to be an app nowadays. 

I am a younger Gen-X (Gen-Xer?). I was a bit late, but the first time I accessed internet was in the year 2000 when I just graduated from University and was looking for work. It's hard for users nowadays to pick email addresses they like without numbers and weird combinations of unusual words, but back then, we could! My email was exactly what I wanted, and my password was a six-letter word, no uppercase, no punctuations, no numbers, and it didn't look like a cursed word. 

I had to take at least a thirty-minute public transport ride to access a facility called Internet café. It had a bunch of PCs with fat screens, and I paid hourly to access the internet. With internet, I meant email, because that was the only thing I knew, and it took me almost a full hour to check and reply. How many inboxes did I have? One! Yeah, it was the combination of a slow connection, my navigation skills, and drafting an email in English, a language I barely knew or used back then. It was also my very first inbox and reply (of course, on top of the usual automated welcome from the provider), and I created the email for this purpose not too long ago before my interview.

Thankfully, it was good news. I got my first job, and it was my top choice. I would be back in a few days, wandering around the neighborhood, catching public transport, clearing the café's administration, waiting for the green field and blue sky background to appear, waiting for the connection with the soundtrack of EEEEE OOOO EEEEE OOOO TEEEEEEEEEEEE, logging into my email with my very easy to remember password, and check whether they replied me. Woohoo! Easy peasy. Hopefully, they would have replied to me by then because it cost me a lot to get there. Otherwise, I'd be back in a few more days. I might have to break my piggy bank, but woohoooo!

So, that was my first experience with internet. I still remember the layout of the café and the relief I had. I was considered lucky because we didn't have Google Maps back then. I had no idea where I could find one but to explore around. The content of the internet back then? It was pretty much the same as what we have now regarding the concept. There were creeps in ICQ (a chat room), kind Nigerian princes (so many of them) who tried to give me money, hoaxes, advertisements about enlarging stuff, and unsolicited access to uncensored beheading videos.

How was your first internet experience? Was it fun, traumatizing, or something you fondly remember like mine? Nowadays, on top of all the negativities and stupidities I always have a hard time processing, I am still grateful because I get opportunities like this to connect with all of you without having to meet in person. I am an uber introvert, but I love exchanging minds and learning about worlds outside my own. 

The Magnificent Swimming Pool

 

I had a chance to visit a traditional Asian village last week and spent hours in a place that brought me to the past.

With chickens and ducks freely roaming around, one always side-eyed me with judgmental eyes (maybe he thought I was supposed to feed him). I had pleasant afternoons watching goat MBEEE on their way home. Kids were out playing bicycles and soccer and got muddy on one rainy afternoon with laughter as the soundtrack. 

Dirt, animals, soaking in the rain, and playing outside were the good times of my childhood. Nothing could kill us; tumbling from the tree, falling to the drain, running from a snake, and stepping on a colony of fire ants was just another Thursday. Even the ghost in our attic and the monstrous neighbor didn’t kill us. Well, I made one up, but the monstrous neighbor was real; she threatened to chop off my hand because I touched her flower, but that is the story for another day. It traumatized me for a while, and I have been planning on an elaborate revenge by making her a despicable character in my future book! Just wait, you mean neighbor!

My primary (elementary) school back then was considered the biggest in town. To me, it was huge, with giant outdoor courts and a gigantic park with trees that reached the sky with my favorite bench under one of the trees (when I had the chance to go back as an adult, it was a small school with two rundown courts and a small patch of green with a few medium-sized trees, but everything looked big and grand when I was a child). 

One day, I arrived at school, and the whole park and court were filled with water. They were situated lower than the main street outside, and after raining the entire night and, of course, a horrible drainage problem, the whole yard was flooded up to my knee. We could still access the classrooms through the corridors, but during the class, everyone was looking out of the window longingly at the most magnificent swimming pool. Most of us didn’t have many chances to swim in a proper swimming pool, so it was very tempting. Our class had a sports subject that day, and we begged our teacher to let us play in the water. They did!

We giggled, laughed, and splashed each other while wading through the knee-high brownish-clogged rainwater; we couldn’t even see our toes or identify what we were stepping on. Other classes that didn’t have sports subjects that day were allowed to play in the water during the break as long as they didn’t get their uniforms wet. You would see rows and rows of shoes on the corridor with children walking around holding hands in the ‘pool.’ We were the luckiest ones as we got to play longer and had change of clothes, so it was up to us whether we wanted to go all in, as in real swimming!

Germs? Pathogens? Possible dangerous animals? Possible skin problems? Oh yeah, the risk remained the same with our modern day, but the attitude was different. Maybe some studies say we have better immune systems; maybe some parents would categorize that as horror. I don’t know. I am not a parent, and I am not an expert. But I can tell you that it was one of the best days of my childhood, and it’s nice to recount the memory.

Locky seems to agree with the theory 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.' Below are his pictures lounging on the river discharge to the ocean. It looks clear, clean, and pretty, but trust me, it doesn't smell as lovely as it seems. 

A Tale of the Young Witch

 

A tale of a young witch is a very ambitious fantasy. However, I am not sure why it’s divided into three parts because all three happen continuously and in the same timeline, involving the same characters.

The book has a simple but interesting beginning. We follow the story of Amelia as some origin story because she is the titular character who starts as someone ordinary enough with ordinary life, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. From there, the journey goes to common fantasy routes with a twist ending. More on these later.

This goes throughout the book, but it’s more jarring in the beginning; it is the way the story is told as ‘Amelia this,’ ‘Amelia that’ even though the scenes only involve one character or the other character is a male. It becomes very distracting because of the number of times the name is thrown instead of using she or her. I believe it would average at least three times per page. I am also distracted by the description of Jack earlier as lanky and when he is mentioned later in the book as lean. It would be fine as the two definitions are close enough if it’s not mentioned too often. Other terms that bother me are between ‘puppet’ and ‘clone.’ I love Sci-Fi, and the way these terms are used as if they are the same confuses me. In the earlier scenes with Scarlet, I’m sorry, but I have to repeat the word ‘distracting’ to read things like ‘angelic’ voice and ‘gorgeous’ eyes while they are in dire situations and not some observations of someone about the character. But these are nitpicking, and they most likely don’t distract others as much.

I prefer realistic fantasy, if that’s a thing. I wish there were a genre for it. It’s like fantasy, but the plot, the problems that the characters face, and the characters themselves are very much in line with reality. I devour The Song of Ice and Fire with great interest and have no problem with big-sized books, but this book makes me recall my experience watching the first Transformer movie. I’d categorize it as pure fantasy, so maybe I am biased in my reading experience because, as mentioned, I prefer the other kind of fantasy, nevermind they both have a similar magical creature. It starts well, and everything is intriguing enough. Still, unfortunately, I can’t wait for it to end after the final fights that stretch over one hundred pages, more or less, with repetitive dialogues. The fights are great and well-written, but it takes one-fifth of the book, and I have to admit I don’t care anymore since the outcome is obvious to me anyway. And there is a plethora of action scenes before these final fights that already exhaust me.

Having said all that, pure fantasy readers might enjoy this book. The author put a lot of effort into this, and there are a lot of unique and great scenes for the theme that is probably quite saturated. The characters are done well; we are introduced to plenty of them, and although some have fewer scenes than they deserve, they are distinguishable enough. The fight scenes are creative and well-written, and although I am not really taken by the ending, it has the potential for more stories.

3.5 rounded up.

 

Fools' Day

 

Locky is not a fool and knows how to enjoy a beach day and make that bath worth it!

 

ONE: The hitmanS

 

You get what you pay for.

 

This was what a Chinese Developer thought when he hired a hitman to kill his competitor because he was sued over a project dispute. At the price of 2 million Yuan (around $282,800), that should be enough to get a good quality hitman, or so he thought, and got Hitman 1.

 

Hitman 1 happily took the job, and with his impeccable business instinct, he hired Hitman 2. Why should he do the job if he could hire others for half the price and get the work done without getting his hands dirty? He was a genius! However, the idea was not exclusive. Gone were the days when we saw the John-Wick-alike kind of hitman; they all turned into entrepreneurs! So, Hitman 2 hired Hitman 3 with even less price, Hitman 3 hired Hitman 4, and Hitman 4 hired Hitman 5. That was a synchronization of teamwork we had never seen before. However, once it got to Hitman 5, the amount of money was not lucrative anymore; it was also quite insufficient to hire another tier of hitman. With that in mind, Hitman 5 let the murder target know about the plan. They staged a murder, and all the hitman wannabes and the mastermind were caught.

 

 

TWO: The elusive escapee

 

Speaking about cool movie characters (Yes, I like John Wick. I believe anyone who loves dogs like John Wick), there was a time when police in the Irish Republic faced the challenge of a serial traffic offender. This guy was so skillful he evaded tons of traffic violations by giving the authorities a different address every time, continued to break the traffic law, and always escaped the consequences. We are talking about fifty of them. Fifty! And I can't even win one game of hide and seek with my dog.

 

The police scratched their heads and were convinced they were dealing with a mastermind, 'The Fine Evader,' 'The Road Flash,' and 'The Asphalt Avenger' were the allocated supervillain names—by me. So, who was this traffic offender that had reached the legendary and cult level among the Irish traffic police?

 

Spoiler alert: his name was Prawo Jazdy. And who is this Prawo Jazdy? Prawo Jadzy is actually not a person but a Polish term for a driving license. Polish people were, and I believe still are, one of Ireland's most significant immigrant populations. So, there were over fifty times when the police wrote down the first line they saw on these offenders' driving licenses instead of their actual names, which led to the hunt for this mythical escapee.

 

For those who like to watch and read weird random things on the internet, you might have heard those stories before. For those who haven't, both are legit, they really happened and are out there in the news. Both stories amused me and made me laugh out loud in the middle of the night.

 

Happy April Fools' Day.

 

I don't do pranks, and I am not a recipient of pranks from random acquaintances. I have that kind of face that my schoolmates and colleagues think twice before they pull one on me. I hope! There are times I make exceptions for people I am close with, but we don't do those annoying elaborate pranks, just harmless, endearing ones, and they are not confined to April Fools. One of the most memorable pranks I got was the incident I called 'ball-less mouse,' No, we didn't catch the mouse and castrate it. Gen X-ers would understand that computer mouse/mice (?) used to have balls. The balls were removable for cleaning because they could get sticky over time, but no ball or cursor! I realize it's impossible to talk about balls without them sounding like innuendos. One morning, I almost pulled my hair out because I couldn't find the cursor. I am not a patient person when things break. Growing frustrated, I moved the mouse frantically with a little bit of slamming, but it still didn't work. It went on repeatedly until I heard an eruption of laughter. Someone had stolen my mouse's ball.

 

Light My Pyre (Kat Kinney)

 

The good thing about fantasy is that the imagination can be limitless. I believe I had watched some old Asian movie about dragon shapeshifters, but I certainly had never read a book about it.

The book follows the journey of Asher (a firefighter; this is not as close as Bookman as a librarian in Seinfeld, and definitely not better than a real-life firefighter, Lieutenant Les McBurney, but good enough) facing the challenge of a serial arsonist who seems to have something against him. He moves to a new place to escape from a traumatic event and meets a girl, a dragon shapeshifter, on the run of her own problems.

There are a lot of creativities in this book, but there are many times when I was distracted by 'witty comments' uttered by the characters. Some of them feel inappropriate to the situations and take me out of the moments, especially serious and sad scenes. They also blur the characters' distinctiveness. I have met many different people in my life, and trust me, not many are quote machines; some even laughed at my jokes on Monday after I told them the previous Wednesday. They are creative and funny but can become too excessive and tiresome for the above reasons.

I like the twists that make the book not very predictable and the greyness of the characters with their backstories. The ending is a bit draggy, but overall, this is a good read for those who enjoy fantasy. It's not my genre. I like GRRM books, but I categorize them more as realistic 'fantasy' (I know, it has dragons and zombies, but they lean heavily on stories, characters, social politics and the parallels to reality) than mythical ones. Over time, I have come to appreciate the fantasy genre and the amazing world of imagination that comes with it.

4.5 rounded up.

The Silent Day

 

Do you remember the time when you tried to eat chips in the office but didn't want to share? Or when you wanted to fart and dropped a book to conceal the sound, but because of poor timing, you dropped the book, the whole class went silent, looked at you, and then you farted? Neither do I. It didn't happen to me. I swear.

But today, I try to be as quiet as possible. If you have watched a movie titled The Quiet Place that tells a story about monsters that attack sound (and everything attached to it), yeah, I wouldn't make it a day. I'm only talkative to certain people. I am not social, but I am clumsy and do everything with passion. Cling, clang, cling, clang.

Why today? I write this on March 11, the day Bali observes Silent Day (Nyepi). It occurs once a year and is the biggest day in Balinese culture.

Today is a reflection day when you are supposed to introspect yourself in silence. No sound, fire, lights, not going out but staying at home. This applies to everything and everyone; even the airport is closed. I can't think of a day when an airport is closed anywhere else except for emergencies.

We tried to experience Nyepi some years ago by staying in a hotel. At that time, it was our first year spending Nyepi in Bali, and we were worried it would be hard for us to be at home. Rumor has it that they shut down electricity. So, we looked for an affordable hotel that had a special Nyepi package, which provided meals and lodging at a reasonable price. As for now, I have experienced Nyepi many times and never encountered an electricity shutdown, so that could be a baseless rumor. However, I went through an internet shutdown a few years ago. They haven't done that for three years; I guess the internet has become such a necessity in life, important for emergencies, and great to have for those who go along with Nyepi without related culture and religion.

For everything else, the rule is strict for everyone, and there are traditional Balinese civilian officers (We call them Pencalang; I have no idea what the term is in English, but they exist in the neighborhood to ensure peace and safety). Not sure about other clusters, but in mine, I have only great experience with them; they are always ready to help and do their jobs well. These Pencalang all over the island go around to ensure that no one is out there or making unnecessary noises. If you have special needs, emergency, and noisy babies, you can inform them, and there will be exceptions given.

We were lucky to stay in a hotel with a rooftop a few years ago and experienced the night sky with dark surroundings. My favorite time when I climbed the mountains was at night or dawn during the scale to the summit, especially those non-commercialized mountains with hardly any other climbers. I loved that serenity and peace when surrounded by total darkness that my eyes would adjust to or showered in the silvery glitter of the moon. It was the best time to look at the stars, far away from light pollution. It always gave me feelings I couldn't explain, making me return for more, regardless of how agonizing the journey to the peak was. Looking at the stars during Nyepi was a very good substitute, as everyone tried to be respectful and quiet, with no one fiddling with their phones, and were just there, enjoying the night sky and the peace.

While it's not for everyone, it is certainly one of the unique experiences and traditions the Balinese preserve, and I hope they continue to do so. Although there are some 'outlaws,' most visitors or non-natives respect this unusual tradition; as the saying goes, 'when you visit a place, you respect its culture.' I don't remember the exact words, but it's something along that line. It's on a bigger scale than what most are taught since childhood: 'When you visit a house, respect its host.' I think it's basic, common sense, although it seems like common sense is not that common anymore when you read the news nowadays.

Find more story like this in My Newsletter, I promise there are gibberish there, and for more gibberish you can check My Website

Thank you!

Redemption (Dave Saari)

 

For the mystery, this book has a decent case. It starts strong and intriguing with a kidnapping and ransom case of a wealthy man's wife. He then fades into the background as we learn that the said wife had been murdered, allegedly wrongfully convicted and has been sitting in prison for five years until a good friend of his hires a private investigator to relook into the case.

The private investigators called FYI are the main characters: husband and wife, Trey and Sybil, and Trey's mother, Madeleine. They are rich people who take up cases for fun as they don't need the money if they believe their clients are innocent.

I want to like this book. I really do. I like murder mysteries and detective stories, but these characters, their interactions and relationships are too unrealistic to me. In my opinion, they are very objectified, and if we take out everything sexually related, there is almost nothing left. They are unrelatable, and I don't root for them at all. Here are the examples. As an ex-FBI officer, Sybil approaches, and borderline harasses their suspect carelessly. Both of them got away with it the first time, but when she acts alone, with her husband waiting and watching, she is assaulted, slapped, groped, and harassed, complete with torn clothes with buttons flying off and everything in the daylight. That should be serious, shouldn't it? But nothing comes out of it. There are no reactions from them other than some casual remarks, and they move on to discuss a dress now that her clothes are torn as if that is Tuesday.

And the dress, sigh, so these two buy a flirty dress from a consignment shop because it reminds the husband, Trey, about their hotel receptionist, whom he flirts with openly and apparently lusts for him based on a few interactions. So, Sybil, the wife, agrees to wear it to fulfil his fantasy even though she is uncomfortable and protesting multiple times. Fortunately, it seems like she finally feels okay, and they both enjoy fooling around in it, but then she decides she doesn't like it, and then they gift it to the receptionist, Nicole, the one the husband lusts for, because she helps them with the investigation. This girl apparently expects a threesome invitation when they invite her to their room. They didn't, but still, she was delighted to get this third or whatever hand slutty dress. (I have nothing against reduce, reuse, recycle (because that is the justification), but I really don't think it's a norm to give people a used slutty dress and loudly state you give it away because you hate it, as a thank you). To top it all, she gets so excited and flustered that Nicole leaves with the new dress and forgets her bra. I don't know, but normal people don't forget undergarments, especially when they arrive wearing them. That is not all. Sybil then confiscates the bra and wears it like her own. What is happening here?

Another example is Madeleine, Trey's mother, who, in order to get the information she needs for the case, opts for performing for a man. Having a sexual encounter with her female partner while the man watches. Of course, he promises not to take pictures or videos and to leave the information if he is happy with the show. Of course. Please remember these are professional, super-wealthy investigators with money, qualifications, and reputations. Madeleine is a tech wizard; that's what I know because it is mentioned more than I see her in action.

I don't have triggers, and I'm really not against mature scenes. One or two are useful to the plot and characters, but others are very distracting and absurd.

The villain is supposed to be the charming genius and psychotic, and there is a potential redeeming ending, but the book doesn't have enough of it or more scenes about why and how this person is a chameleon and mastermind because there is almost no actual interaction that conveys his charm, a missed opportunity because I would certainly root for the villain instead.

This is my personal opinion, and books are very subjective. What doesn't work for me might work for others. I think the author writes a good murder mystery and I like the style of flashbacks as we reveal the case.

3 used flirty dress out of 5 consignment shops

Flit (Ed Morawski)

 

Since I was a young adult, I have been dreaming about teleportation. Staying away from my loved ones, it's always a delicate balance to be with them, be in a place with the job, and be in places that are good for my mental well-being. I do not intend to be greedy outside of personal use and am very good at keeping secrets. Because of this wish, I think about this a lot, albeit always briefly, about how having this kind of device would impact my life and others if it's finally realized one day.

So, I am happy to read this book, especially when it explores the origin.

I was worried that the book would be a lump of narration and information in the beginning because we were barely introduced to any character. It has its purpose because it's just an introduction to the beginning. Twenty years later, there are multiple characters and storylines.

The premise.

I love the concept of this book; as told, I want to know what would happen if this thing became a reality. Every ordinary person thinks about all these scenarios daily, no? At least I have this book. Although I have nitpicks (more on that later), I admire the author's knowledge about a lot of things and read in amazement as he brings me through the science, jurisdiction system, business, banking, and the future.

 

The characters.

I love to root and feel for characters when I read books, and I root for none of the characters in this one. The primary and more prominent characters are decently created, but I can relate to none. The most down-to-earth, realistic, and ordinary characters are introduced in snippets just to put a name for how the device impacts them. However, it works for this book, and I think there is a decent balance between hard and soft science fiction. This would make a good movie with the montage of ordinary characters among the craziest things that ever happened to humanity. I wish Beach, Joe, and Irina would be less one-dimensional, but who cares? I have a four-second trip to make.

 

The pace.

The pace is great, although some timelines seem impossible for me, who worked in corporate deadlines many times before, especially in those sectors that rely on many things, including supplies and utility. But no part of the book is boring to me. It keeps me interested.

 

The style.

The book is a 'documentary.' I think it's creative and has many things that would make a great movie. But more on the nitpick.

 

Now, the nitpicks that sadly have knocked one star from me.

-       I am a nerd. I like to read about theories, calculations, details, and analysis (whether I understand them or not is another matter), and this book has many of them. It's all great, but something very simple caught my eye. It's a nitpick, of course, for something that takes only half a page, but hear me out. Emily, one of the minor characters, owns a boutique, and for some reason, the author details how the business has been doing well by including some simple calculations. With a rent of $28,000 a month, the company would break even if it could rake $1,000 a day, which makes it $30,000 a month. It is simple, but in the previous scene, it was mentioned that it is located in a very prime area with three full-time salespeople, even though they also work on a commission basis. Based on my knowledge, there is no way $2,000 a month would cover other expenses. Salaries, utilities, business trips, expenses, taxes, interior, packaging, transport, marketing, and bonuses are the basics. There is just no way the number would work. If there is a higher number, or best, not to mention them at all outside the general idea. It's a tiny thing; however, it makes me wary a bit. What about all those impressive calculations and details that I don't have any knowledge about? Don't get me wrong, it wouldn't impact my reading enjoyment, but it would make me less confident.

 

-       The aftermath

It's great that I get to read about the impact on the world. The author has a lot of insights into things that I have yet to consider, and it's really awesome to read them. While there are mentions of some negative impacts that spark a very tiny idea of reverting to the old transportation method, everything goes very smoothly regarding long-term technology impact, not social rejection (the riot).

It says a lot about the better environment, while in my head, it is the other way around. I was an avid traveler and sought remote areas: unpopular islands, underwater, and mountaintops. The best factors for all these are the destinations, the views, nature, and cultures. On the other hand the most disturbed factors by this device are the tranquility, exclusiveness, and the journey. All these would be gone (and that's why I decided unselfishly that this device is not ready to be introduced to the mass population ha). Every corner of my beloved destinations would be flocked with these annoying tourists and influencers. There would be no more peace. And who are the most disruptive and destructive visitors? Tourists and influencers. The beautiful marigold field would be flattened to the ground, and the unique mountaintop outcropping would collapse from the weight of people pretending to do yoga there. While we finally would be able to retrieve Green Boots from Everest, it would be a disaster up there with some wealthy housewife trying to do gender reveals. I feel stressed typing this.

Sadly, the journeys would no longer be possible without alternative methods. Part of the satisfaction of these destinations is the journeys.

 

The other most important factors are animals and plants. People want to see wildlife up close and bring souvenirs; the consequences would be unimaginable. Endemic animals and plants, with their natural reasons and causes, would no longer be protected. Wallace's line exists for a reason.

Of course, there could be solutions, but I am just a bit disappointed that these very glaring negative impacts (to me) are not mentioned, combined with the population rise. (I have read somewhere that the lack of need to do other things and the plentiful of time will result in the increase of baby-making activities)

 

-       I am not sure why there is a need for a 'Post Release Update.' Imo, it totally throws everything else away. It doesn't go with the documentary style as this is supposed to be the private life of someone who is mentioned repeatedly as very reserved. The tone is also very different from the rest of the book, and it kind of ruins the consistency of the characters. I'm really not sure why this is included. Imho; it would make a much better book without.

 

-       The missing importance. The disappearing, the original scientists, and the alternate universe need to be fleshed out more. Those should be very important and alarming, or it would be interesting to learn about more than a few sentences. What about blackouts in between travels? Not all countries in the world have the same stability or capacity; blackouts happen often in some. Most less developed areas don’t even have internet connections. It would also be interesting to think about how vulnerable the system is to cyber-attacks and unauthorized imitations. Everything can be imitated, especially when they have the prototype.

4 out of 5 stars

The Classic (Race) Car

 

Locky has an itchy fit after I picked him up from his original grandma (a boarding perk I got from his original family when I adopted him. He has a second home whenever I am away). Besides medication and antiseptic soap, the vet suggested that he put on a cone or a shirt to prevent him from scratching. Here he is unhappy with the fashion choice, and that is my best T-shirt!

 But he got comfortable after I fastened it and slept well into the morning. On the way to beautiful, itch-free skin!

During my previous work, I passed this neighborhood road daily around the same time. I would see the same kiosks, the same people sweeping their yards, the same dog lounging under the afternoon sun, the same rubbish on the roadside, the same undies on the same cloth lines; yeah, I made the last two up.

Anyway, one day, there was a classic car on one of the roadsides (Classic, as far as my car’s knowledge allows me, I know almost nothing about them!). It was a pale blue, older model with a squarish look. Not Volkswagen, Cadillac, or Mustang; it looked sporty enough with Mustang’s style. Two youngsters, most probably less than twenty years old, were attending to it. They were busy cleaning, scrubbing, and tinkering every time I passed by.

I paid attention to everything unusual, interesting, or something regular. I also needed to slow down because sometimes there were stuff or tools scattered around. But one thing was for sure: they were very into whatever they were working on. It was not clear on week one, but on week two, they moved to focus on the area around the wheels, and it became obvious that they were trying to lower the chassis by the time they entered week three.

Please don’t ask me; I still don’t understand why some folks think cars with low body clearance from the road are cool and great. To put it simply, the less space it has between the chassis and the road, the better. I assume it feels different when you drive it; most probably, it feels like a racing car. I prefer to be as high as I can because I need to see what is going on in front of me. So, it’s not for me, but I understand that it’s a passion for some. It’s probably cool to look at as well for them, and it’s some achievement to obtain or modify a car that way. Here, there are no clear rules for modifications, or maybe there are, but after seeing all sorts of weird things on the street, they are probably very lax.

I enjoyed looking at how passionate these two were; they looked content and did a decent job on the car. Sometimes, there were one or two onlookers who helped them or just chatted on a small makeshift wooden pavilion nearby. All in all, it was a quality afternoon time for them. The car got lower and lower until it was around or less than 5 centimeters or two inches from the ground, and they wrapped the work.

However, there was one biggest flaw that they didn’t consider. It was very obvious, but maybe they focused on the process, and as a result, they forgot about one thing: Bali’s roads.

Bali has every imaginable road: the smooth ones, the jagged ones, the ones with plot holes, the ones with swimming pools, the ones with trees planted on the sides (not on planters or islands or curbs, on the roads!), the dirt roads, the ones with steep inhumane gradient that you clench butt cheeks when you go up and see your life flash before your eyes when you go down, the ones that lead to nowhere, and the ones with obnoxious manholes and humps.

Some manhole covers are fitted so haphazardly that they are much higher than the road. Humps, there are no standards here; sometimes they are reasonable with good angles, sometimes they are invisible (not painted), sometimes they are designed to make you fly or grant you a visit to the mechanics. There is one key here; all of them are higher than 5 centimeters.

Some assholes think it’s okay to speed on the neighborhood roads, so there are a lot of humps to prevent that, including, wait for it, humps in front and behind where this car was located, which was less than fifty meters in each direction. They were not painted, but a regular would know them by heart. I assume they tried to test the car for a ride when reality dawned on them because after the car was finished, it was only abandoned on the roadside for months until, one day, it was gone.

It was a pity. This post should stop here, but of course, like many insufferable writers, I try to draw a parallel in life. There is a good possibility that the way ahead and around us are not as obvious as when they are viewed from afar or by others. We get so accustomed to the conditions and surroundings that we can’t see the glaring, unbeatable obstacles, or we can see them but choose to ignore them because we enjoy what we are doing. I think it happens to me more than I am willing to admit.

Have a great day, everyone. Sometimes, I wish I was born on leap day because I hate celebrating birthdays, but that is the story for another day.