King of kings and Lord of lords...

I find it really funny that suddenly Yeshuah, because of the Da Vinci Code and all the countless number of books mushrooming trying to offer alternate views about Him these past few weeks, are suddenly making our Lord the hottest topic in town. And we're half a year away from Christmas!

I would also like to voice the opinion that Christianity in this country is not being treated with a balanced scale in this case. When The Passion of The Christ was released, it was such a low key thing, that if I was not mistaken, you need to obtain your tickets from certain churches to watch it. There were no advertisements about this movie about REAL love either. But with DVC, oh! All the posters! All the hype! All the ads! And...seek the truth??

I'm sorry to say that amidst all these doubt-inducing intentions of everyone involved, I've only grown to appreciate and accept Him even more. Wait a minute, I'm not sorry.

I'm not even intending to watch DVC because the "facts" in it has been debunked so many times by so many people (non-Christians included) that there really is no need for me to watch how these idiots intend to challenge the Messiah because it would mean RM10 wasted.

Let it be final: This greatest man was MORE than just a man. He is (Isaiah 9:6) Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace, (Matthew 3:17, John 3:16) Yahweh's only begotten Son, (John 1:1) the Word who was Elohim, (1 Timothy 2:5) the mediator between the one Elohim and man, (Colossians 1:15) the image of the invisible Elohim - Elohim made manifest in flesh, (Philippians 2:9-10) the One whom Yahweh Elohim exalted with a Name above every other names that everyone should bow to upon hearing it, (Revelation 19:16) King of kings and Lord of lords, and most importantly He is (John 14:6) the Way, the Truth and the Life...for no one goes to Yahweh Elohim the Father except through Yeshuah His Son.

May Yahweh's name be exalted and His will be done all and all and over and over...and may these critics only serve to strengthen our faith in Yahweh and in Yeshuah, whom I believe have been carrying my family and me on His shoulders all this while.

In Yeshuah's wonderful name...

Footwork...

I finally realised what a difficult game badminton can actually be. While many people can actually hit the shuttle pretty well, but to keep hitting it well at a consistent level takes serious practice. I should know.

I would say the two most important shots are the high baseline-deep serve and a strong consistent baseline clear. Almost every coach or "how to play" book will tell you this and how important the baseline is, and they're right. The two baseline corners of the court are very, very good points of attack people don't realise.

But to master these two shots, you also need some nice footwork to get to one back corner, then back to the centre, then to the other corner. So in short, while it's only two types of shots, it's not easy. There is really no fixed footwork, but it's best to observe how badminton players move and copy them. I got mine from a coach, which I suppose is good enough for amateur play.

And so far it's only two shots we're talking about here. No smashes or drop shots or backhands or lunges to the front yet...

Beauty...it's hard to understand.

I won't fault the people who think that God can be so unfair at times. I've actually learnt over the years that we shouldn't blame God on anything bad that happens to us, which is fair, but the subject of beauty continues to defy that notion, because it's just so obvious.

I met this particular girl again today at work, and I've actually met her once before. The first time I saw her I was already taken aback by how beautiful she is. This time, it moved me to write this (a marvelous feat in itself).

Everything about her is just so...dare I say, perfect. Alright, she does have a pair of glasses on, but ironically, that didn't diminish or cover up her magnificent looks at all. I've actually seen many, many pretty girls, here or in the UK, dated some, but while all of them always remind me of how "unfair" God can sometimes be, none has pushed me this far so as to actually write something.

She's of Sikh origin I think, shoulder-length hair which is dyed brown. Has quite a slim figure, but is curvy at all the right places. Tanned skin, and as I said, she wore glasses. Quite tall, probably abt 5' 5" or so.

I wasn't moved enough to initiate any sort of conversation with her the first time, maybe because I was busy chatting with other girls myself, but this time I just couldn't let it go! I just made sure we caught each other's eyes, and I smiled at her, to which she smiled back.

Then I went over to another room for lunch, which was already half full with other people. I took some noodles and stood at one end of a long table and started eating. Ms Beautiful came in shortly after, and proceeded to get some noodles for herself. Then she took some other food stuff and stood right next to me at the end of the table (as she was getting her food, I was actually willing her to come near!).

I just had to talk to her. As it turned out, she seemed rather friendly and introduced herself. I intro-ed myself too but her reaction seemed to tell me she already knew who I was (not that I'm famous or anything). We talked a bit about work and university.

When she left, I had to ask her for a business card, which she obliged to give. I gathered she is 4 years my senior. Not a problem really!

Now the one thing I need to stress is, I really am not a pervert. This beautiful girl made me lose my bearings a bit, but it wasn't like I was aroused or anything, even though I can say she's sexy and looks elegant too. No, but I'm quite inert sexually. I just thought she's sooo sweetly beautiful. Nothing perversive, just mere, pure admiration.

The beast in me...

Most people I know would tell you I look like a real good and kind person, and that they would not associate things like tattoos or clubbing or fighting or maybe even hair dyeing to my name.

They just don't know me enough yet. I'm nowhere as good as what people think. I'm bad tempered, and I can be downright cold and unaffectionate.

What matters most however, is not my temper or my at times loose morals. It is the fact that I can turn into a complete person when someone, occasionally through a very simple annoying act, presses all the hot buttons in my soul and cuts my brain fuse.

The last time this almost happened was just two days ago. I just finished my insurance meeting with my colleagues, at the extremely shabby building in the middle of KL which is Wisma Central, and I was getting my car out of the car park. The parking fee was an expensive RM10 per entry, which already slightly irritated me in the morning, but never mind that.

I drove to the parking booth and stopped, where I saw this small green button outside the booth window which I used to press to lift the bar gate to allow me exit (the system was such that since you've paid your fees upon entry, you don't need an attendant to grant you exit, you simply press that button when you're at the booth).

So this time I did the same, pressed the button, but they must've changed the regulations because the gate didn't open. So I just waited. Then the attendant turned to me, and with a dreadfully arrogant look on his face, asked: "Kenapa you tekan?!"

That look on his face and the three words were enough to make me feel like turning into the monster I know is within me. Let me explain. The anger I felt is a sort of a cold, deliberate anger which I do not think everyone is capable of feeling. It makes you want to literally crack his head open and punch all his teeth out, but at the same time, you do not feel any emotion, except how to hurt him most.

You do not feel pain, and the "count to 10 and cool down" method doesn't work. Nothing seems to be able to stop it.

I shot back in a low but menacing voice, and a look to go with: "Kenapa tak boleh tekan?"

He turned away, and his face, while still hatefully scornful, revealed a hint of a look that probably says: "Okay, I can't bully this guy."

He then did his work of scanning my car from his booth and opened the gate for me, all in all taking about 20 seconds. I could've had plenty of time to cool down, but all I had in my mind was throwing the parking ticket I was holding to his face. If we were to meet on the street, he would have ended up lying on the ground with blood on his face. But I tried, tried VERY HARD to control myself.

In the end, I just threw the ticket at his window and drove off, but not without showing a finger to his face.

This was just not me. It is that someone else in my body which haven't shown himself in a long, long while. "He" doesn't show up often, thank God, but when "he" did show up, "he" always ended up doing something I regret. Something uncharacteristic. Something violent, like almost breaking a friend's arm. Something madly strong, like hauling someone who is taller than me to the ground with one wave of the arm.

It's unlike normal anger or frustration, where you do feel like scolding someone but not really meaning to hurt him. This is diabolical. I do not wish for it to happen again. And though I did nothing wrong at the car park that day, it almost did...

Practice makes...

Yesterday was the first time in all the years I've played football that I think I can say to myself I did something "magical", something only players with advanced techniques could hope to do.

Yes, I've scored a couple of goals from the half-way line ala David Beckham during the 11-a-side days, and as far as I can remember, I've scored a solo "past 3 players and shoot" goal once on a 5-a-side pitch, but none of those can compare to what I did yesterday, even though it wasn't a goal because that effort hit the post, much to my dismay.

But I couldn't discount it. Granted, a 5-a-side pitch is rather small compared to your regular footie field, and I reckon I was only about 15 yards at most from the opposition goal, with my back to that goal. My keeper threw me an excellent ball, and I stopped it from hitting the floor with a single touch from the laces of my right foot. Then, before it falls to the ground, I swivelled around and hit the volley with the same part of the right foot and smashed the ball against the keeper's right hand post.

It was such a disappointment it wasn't a goal. I knew right away that I couldn't have hit it any better. The keeper, who was also a good friend of mine, applauded the effort for a good several seconds. I should've known. If I were watching somebody else do this, I would have thought it was a great, great effort too. Prior to that, it had never occured to me that I could come up with something like this. Those two touches were to me, magnifique.

I just felt it was timely to reconvince myself that I wasn't as crap as what those people at the small tourney on Saturday think. If they don't wanna pass the ball, there's nothing I can do. On Sundays when I play with my friends, we pass a lot more, and a lot more goals are scored. I scored a few yesterday too, but that was the one I most wanted.

I would say if I hadn't had my keepy-uppy exercises I wouldn't have managed those two nice touches. Sometimes all you do is practise and practise, and when you're out there, you just let your body play. No thinking, it's all very Zen-ish. It's what people call being "in the zone". But I still can't say it's "practice makes perfect"...because it wasn't a goal.

Just what is wrong with such people...

I'm sitting here in the office on a Saturday, and this has been quite a busy Saturday, but it could get busier as I've promised some close friends that I'll be going to play badminton with them (if I could leave the office very soon, that is!).

Before I came to work, I was playing in a 6-a-side indoor football tournament. Didn't really enjoy it as I barely got to touch the ball in all honesty. We had a player whom everyone seemed to think was good, but as usual, these "good" players always refuse to pass the ball. Ever heard of the age-old adage in world football? If you can't pass you can't play!!! We went thru the group stages by virtue of three consecutive 0-0 draws, but if "good player" had opted to pass at some vital moments, we could've had a positive goal difference.

But "good player" did his part of fighting for the team and got a few kicks on the process for trying to dribble too much. But he really shouldn't have got those kicks. Yes, he indeed could've passed, but I've always believed that in amateur level football, you don't need to tackle someone that hard that he would collapse on the pitch! It's a game for Christ's sake! And if he gets past you, either a) you're too slow, or b) the way you're facing your opponent is not restrictive enough, and therefore he can find space to knock it past you, or c) you're just plain crap and you rely on dirty tactics to stop your opponent.

I also believe that it is somewhat difficult to score from direct free kicks in an indoor game. The wall does not have to retreat ten yards for your kick and the goal is not as wide as in a normal 11-a-side football pitch, and hence it is much more difficult to score, even if you're David Beckham (which you're not)!! Doesn't take a genius to understand that does it?? But I don't understand why so many of these glory hunters wanna hit direct (which of course would bounce off the human wall...). For my money, by all means pass the ball round the wall to a teammate for him to lash it in! It's a bloody team game!

But these issues are nothing compared to a very annoying character I saw at the tourney. Disliked him from the very beginning. These kinda small tourneys don't bring with them scouts from Manchester United to look at you. But "annoyer" was behaving as if he's a pro at the warm-ups and was too eager to win by getting rather physical. He really gives us Chinese a bad name. Honestly, I've never met a white or Malay guy who played in his dreadful mood. He was just the sort you would wanna look for after a game and give him a good stuffing at the gents...

And anyway, I left early as I needed to work in the office, and the team lost at the second group stage. Nothing much worth remembering about.