Airport hues

It’s been awhile since I had to spend an extended period of time at an airport. The last time this happened was when I was in Japan. I had arrived after midnight, and there were no more trains and buses out from the airport. I had no choice but to wait until the first bus of that day.

I remember walking around the airport aimlessly. Almost everything was closed so there was nothing much to see. Nobody else was walking around. People were all strewn across chairs or on the floor, sleeping. Waiting for their next flight or like me, a bus out of the airport. I managed to find an open restaurant and bought a bowl of Udon noodles to fill my empty stomach. After that, I just loaded up Twitch on my iPad and watched some games to pass the time.

Fast forward a few years later and we have me in a similar situation. Waiting for my connecting flight to Heathrow, sitting at a Shake Shack, listening to some tunes by Dance Gavin Dance and typing out this post. Dubai’s airport is a hell lot busier at this hour. It is brightly lit, there are tons of people walking around in search of food, a place to rest, their departure gate, or just walking because it’s better than sitting around.

I was sitting alone until 5 minutes ago when this stranger just took up the seat on the table connected to mine. I didn’t acknowledge him. Not that I needed to. He was a person looking for a place to sit, like me. I don’t think I’ll engage in conversation with him. According to my laptop’s clock, it should be 5am in Malaysia now. I would be asleep at this hour. However, I slept almost the whole flight earlier so I’m not tired.

It was an uneventful flight. I watched This Is Spinal Tap for the first time. I fell asleep about 20 minutes from the end of the movie so I’ll probably finish it later. I had the aisle seat, which I didn’t mind at first until I realized it meant that I would have to give way to the two passengers next to me if they wanted to use the toilet. Good thing it only happened once. I would’ve been annoyed if I had to do it a few times.

The food was pretty good. I had some chicken curry and rice. And carrots and long beans. And a piece of chocolate. Oh, for some reason I received two prawn salads. I didn’t complain. Also ate some bread sticks. Had a lot of water. A glass of gin and tonic.

When I was sleeping, I kept feeling my hands getting wet. I have no idea if I was sweating or it was just in my head. But it was a weird sensation. I did drool a lot. One of the passengers next to me had a strange laugh. She sounded like she was going to die. I just put on my headphones to listen to the Giant Bomb podcast and ignored her. I pulled my beanie over my face and fell asleep.

My flight to the UK departs in about an hour. Great. I’m looking forward to freeze my balls off.

Oh, 70 AED = RM85, I found out today. Priciest fast food I’ve ever paid for in my life. At least it’s cheaper than rap CDs.

MPEG-2 Audio Layer III stories

MPEG-1 and/or MPEG-2 Audio Layer III,[4] more commonly referred to as MP3, is an audio coding format for digital audio which uses a form of lossy data compression. It is a common audio format for consumer audio streaming or storage, as well as a de facto standard of digital audio compression for the transfer and playback of music on most digital audio players and computing devices. [Wikipedia]

One of the best things about the internet is the amount of entertainment available for people to consume at any time. With a quick search and a click of a button, your favorite artists’s latest song can be playing in your ears in seconds. Compressed music is one of my favorite things about the internet. Without the internet, my music library would be a thousand times smaller than what it is right now. There’d be so many bands and singers I would have missed out on because they don’t get any airplay on radio over here.
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Read Only Memories

“It’s about time you change that phone of yours. Come on, it’s a frickin’ iPhone 3G!”
“But it’s served me well!”
“Half your screen is dead, your home button doesn’t function anymore and you can’t adjust your phone’s volume!”
“I can still text and make calls, that’s what matters!”
“You might as well be using an old Nokia then, come on. I’ll give you my old phone. It’s rooted and I’ve got a custom ROM on it so it’s speedy and battery life is still great.”
“But I’m so used to my iPhone!”
“I’ll install an iOS-like launcher for you, but trust me you’ll never want to go back to an iPhone after moving to Android!”
“How much are you getting paid, shill?”

I laughed in response. “Chill here for a bit, I’ll head to my room to grab the phone.”
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Hi, my name is

When I was growing up, I didn’t like my name very much. I always thought ‘George’ was so uncool and wondered why my parents would give me such a name. All the kids making fun of it didn’t help either.

Georgie Porgie, pudding and pie, kissed the girls and made them cry.
When the boys came out to play, Georgie Porgie ran away.

I guess I can be glad I didn’t grow up in the 2000s – I didn’t have to suffer from any George W. Bush flak. However, George H. W. Bush was president that time and fortunately he didn’t get that much hate (or I was too young to be aware of it).

Later on in life, it was all about George of the Jungle, which I guess wasn’t so bad either since people enjoyed the Brendan Fraser movie…right?

I remember wanting to be named Gus. Since I couldn’t change my name, I drew comics about a character named Gus who was supposed to be me. My first online handle was Gus091 (Gus was taken). I got excited watching the cartoon Recess because there was a character named Gus. My mom and sister made fun of me for wanting that name – they said it was disgusting (haha).

I don’t remember at what point in my life it was when I started embracing my name. But it was probably when I realized that having an English name, especially one that was in my official identification, was quite special in this country.

People always asked me, ‘is George your real name?’ My answers began with ‘yes, why would I call myself George?’ and eventually to just ‘yes’ and when I started embracing my name, ‘yes, it’s even on my birth cert’.

When I looked up the meaning of my name – farmer, I thought it was pretty cool. I mean sure, it’s no destroyer of worlds but hey – at least it wasn’t something lame like Baby Boi.

Who knows, maybe I’ll become a farmer one day and finally live up to my name. It will become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

And as for my Chinese name – that’s a story for another day. Kek.

Of Wasted Food And Hungry People

When I was younger, I was constantly reminded by my mom to finish all the food on my plate. I was told to never leave a single grain of rice. I remember being told that if I didn’t finish my rice, my future wife would have tons of pimples on her face (corresponding to the number of rice grains I didn’t finish). Now, I don’t remember if I believed her when I was a kid, but I did it anyway. It didn’t matter how much food was on my plate – I always made sure it was clean by the end of my meal.
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Down with the sickness

It’s been awhile since I last fell sick, and even longer since I blogged about it. I guess it’s kinda pointless to write about being sick anyway. There’s not much to say. I’m on meds, not really in the mood to write, but fuck it. Just write anyway because I haven’t hit 5 posts this week.

If there’s one thing that sucks about being sick, it’s probably having to run to the toilet every 15 minutes or so because you can’t contain the shit (heh) inside. Anyway, I’m on drugs for my fever, cough, flu and sore throat. On a side note, why isn’t flu spelled as ‘flue’? I seem to automatically type flue on the keyboard for no reason.
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Age of Experience/Mommy’s Boy

A few years ago, I was asked by an insurance sales lady out for coffee. Mainly because she wanted to sell me insurance, and not to chat. But she found out that I already had my own insurance plan (I can’t even remember how she obtained my number) – but anyway, since I wasn’t going to buy what she was selling, the meeting turned from a sales pitch to just two people talking to each other. Mostly she talked, because she seemed to have a lot to say. I can’t remember everything she said, but I clearly remember thinking to myself that day, “hmm, are old people inherently this interesting?”. Prior to that day, I hadn’t had conversations with many old people (I still haven’t), and so I was just amazed at how much she could talk and keep me engaged throughout the whole conversation.

She spoke about her childhood, her family, kids, life etc. Some of the stuff that I had experienced myself growing up, but most of it stuff I hadn’t heard before. It was fascinating. We finished our coffee that day, and I went home feeling happy because I had made a new friend. Anyway, we haven’t spoken to each other since then, but every birthday I’ve had since then, she hasn’t failed me to send me a greeting. I don’t know if it’s an automated message or if she takes the time to craft a message every year (and for every one she knows) but I do know it was unnecessary of her to do so.

Anyway, I didn’t intend to spend this post talking about her.
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Shit them all festival, laugh at the beautiful

I have this vague memory of a playground experience which I’ll never forget. I was a kid then, under 10 years old. And I was just hanging out at the playground in my neighborhood with my sister. It’s something we used to enjoy doing in the evenings – after the sun wasn’t so hot and before the it set. We would have fun running around, playing on the swings and slides, working up a sweat before we headed back home for dinner.
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We will fuck with consequence

He sat relatively still, typing away on his laptop. In between paragraphs, he took deep breaths from the cigarette resting between his lips.

Typing a few words, and then backspacing, and then typing them again, he looked busy even though he hadn’t written many words in the past ten minutes.

He was reflecting on his life, trying to put down in words how he felt at the moment. It was a mixture of ups and downs. Things weren’t going particularly well, and things weren’t going bad. Things were ‘fine’. How are you doing? Oh, just fine. Fine.
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