He's been a model of strength and honesty for as long as I can remember. He's always been there to help, anytime of day, sacrificing his personal time for the many of us who have come to know him, maybe even love him. And he's a great listener too! I mean, he can hear your cries for help from miles away and rush over to assist you in whatever way he can.

In fact, everyone of us would be put to shame if we just looked at his work ethic and how he handles responsibility. We'd be embarassed with ourselves when we see the way he handles his job, coming in early every day without complaint or murmuring, even after a late night out. Or the way he has this inner strength that infects everyone and propels them to excel in all they do. Every guy I know wants to be him. Heck, every girl wants him. Even I look up to him.

Well, at least I used to.

What happens when your trust in someone is betrayed? When what you thought the person was supposed to be, is not that person at all? Especially when you see it, while others just brush it off as nothing? How do you help someone who denies he has a problem?

I tried to tell him about his obsession but he wouldn't listen. He insists he can handle it. But after so many years without changing? Or at least trying to change?  How can he be 'handling it'? Oh sure, he hasn't failed in carrying out his duties and responsibilities.

Yet.

But if he doesn't do something about this, I fear it may destroy him. I tried telling people about it, but no one listened. Those that did, listened in jest, or half-heartedly. Blogging is my only therapy, I guess. What would you do if you know your friend has an obsession with underwear? And he denies it? It's the same with drugs, or pornography. An addiction is an addiction!

Is he in denial? Could he be subconciously seeking attention because he was adopted?

Of late, it's been getting even worse. At first he kept it quiet. Then he started exposing what he wore, and the colors had gone bolder. He then began to wear flashy red boots with his 'item', calling it a fashion choice. Now he wears his red underwear over a blue bodysuit!

What am I to do? I think he has serious psychological issues, and he's expressing them through the way he dresses. And let's not even talk about hygiene issues. Inner-wear over your outer-wear? How are you even going to go wee-wee? What if you had to go in a toilet at the mamak? Won't your bodysuit get all messed up? You'll have to take off ALL your clothes just to tinkle! And that cape will be dragging whatever is around in the loo onto the restaurant floor.

Clark, please. If you are reading this, come back from the brink of insanity before it's too late! Why can't you be more normal like Wayne and have psychopathic issues, or like Diana with her women's empowerment angst, or even J'on J'onz's alienation issues?  I pray you will change before your return, Clark. And before it's too late...

Dec 1: Well, this is it. First day on the job. Reached Sunway College fifteen minutes early. Found out later through the staff manual from HR that work starts at 8.30am, so I was actually fifteen minutes late. Nice. Went straight to my department, to the shock of many. 'How did you finish the tour so fast?' Jessica exclaimed. Tour? Oh. So she led me to HR, which is on the rooftop. After much form-filling and rules-reading, we were finally herded to our respective departments after the tour. They put me to good use after lunch. Boy, these people don't waste time. I had to inspect serial illumination devices and had to suspend them with multi-chromed polymer spheres on our simulated season enhancing decorative module. Yup, spent the better half of the day hanging lights and decorations on our Christmas tree.

Dec 2: The Second Day. Having accomplished yesterday's project succesfully, I was entrusted with a more challenging one today: build two hats for the snowmen they made. Before you laugh, it's no joke okay. These two fellas are different sizes you know? One is a Daddy and the other is a Baby. You think you so clever can do ah? Do and see lah, think I scared ah? Other than that, we spent the rest of the day hanging styrofoam snowflakes all over Student Services.

Dec 3, 4: Weekend! No work! Yay! But next Saturday's a working day for me. Bummer. On Sunday he saw that it was good, and he rested. So it was that he rested, for on the Sunday he saw that it was good (NKJV-style blogging)

Dec 5: The Third Day. Shopping! Well, sort of. Went to Sunway Pyramid and then to Subang Pyramid with colleagues to hunt for blazers for our Student Council next year. We finally settled on Padini 'cos of the budget. Ate lunch only at 3.20pm, which is quite good, considering I never ate lunch at my old job.

Dec 6: The Fourth Day. Here I am once again, I'm torn into pieces, can't deny can't pretend.... Oouii? How come I suddenly type this one? At least better than 'Ai... May you. Hern... May you....' SHADDAP LAH! Anyway, waited for these two China students (a boy and a girl) from the Ministry of Ed. to arrive. Supposed to show them around, and converse with them in Bahasa. They didn't turn up. Too badlah, I didn't get to try my Mandarin, 'Sing wern chee yao. Wor ser Terence. Ni ser Ah Beng? Ni ser Ah Lian? Wo poo chiang hwar yee. Aiya, kwai tien bah!' The rest of the day will be meeting after meeting. Oklah, quite fun lah overall. People here are friendly. Too friendly. Why are they staring at me?

What do they want?

         Stop it!

    Stop reading my thoughts!

Stop it!

         All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy....     All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy...

THE END?

The Afghan hostile walked right into my sight. We blew up this airfield a couple of months ago, but Intel says they're active again. Pretty surprising how fast these terrorists work. But that's gonna change tonight. Now, lying prone under this starless sky in Kandahar with my scope firmly sighted on the guard's head, I can feel the adrenaline fill my blood. Breathe. Squeeze the the trigger slowly, remember your training. I switch my M4's safety off and set it to 'burst'. A three-round shot should be able to take him out quickly and quietly.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Like the sound of a baseball hitting a glove, the shots find their target, and the poor guy crumples to the ground, the back of his head a gaping hole where his brain used to be. One down, a heckuva lot more to go. I crawl slowly down the hill toward the control tower. Suddenly, I see a movement to my left. "Ih'mle Ka'desh?" a turbaned head asks, surprised. Without time to think, I pump two between his eyes. He falls backward with a stiffled yell and never got to finish our conversation. A bullet through the brain will do that to you.

Damn. Intel screwed up. The hostiles' positions are all wrong on my GPS receiver! If Intel is reliable for anything, it's getting it wrong all the time. I'll have to go in eyes front from now on. I turn off the now useless GPS and switch on my NV goggles, fixing it to my headband. Something about turning everything to an eerie green gives me a sense of warped comfort. I crawl pass the spasming body towards my objective. The guy had his pants down. Pissing on the job, eh, Jack? Not a smart thing to do when spooks like us are near.

"Charlie One, I'm 10 meters from Objective Echo," I whisper into my throat mike. "Roger,  Delta One. Hold till Delta Two reaches position, over." Where IS Delta Two? It's not like Scuzzy to be late. Everything goes surreal all of a sudden. I hear the rude chattering of an AK-47 in the distance but the ground around me immediately spits earth. "Charlie One, they're on to us! Mission abort! Say again, position compromised! Abort mission, Charlie One!" I try to get up and run but feel fire going through my legs. A third round hits my back, but the ballistic vest stops it from making mush out of my spine. Even then, it feels like I've been kicked by an elephant. I reach for my M4, but see it on the ground five feet away. I pull my secondary weapon, an MP5-SD, and take out the first two terrorists running towards me.

Suddenly, a boot comes crashing down onto my arm and I drop the submachinegun. "So, dees ees dee legendary  Mr. Rock Forceful." I look up to see Mullah Abula Al-Bakhkalakahtirkkikfitri Ma'abaladuh Akhri, whom we nicknamed Al, with good reason. He seems to be talking to someone. "Yup, it's him alright." Whoever he's speaking to talks with an all too familiar drawl. I turn my head toward where Al's looking. All the pain in my body is suddenly forgotten when I see the owner of the voice."Scuzzy! It was you?!? You gave away our positions? You lying sack of sh.."

"Kareful, Mr. Forceful," Al interrupts, "not during Ramadhan." He takes out a lace handkerchief and wipes the sweat dripping off his fat face like a camouflaged version of Placidoe Dor... Pleseedo Doming... that fat singing guy. "And now, Mr. Forceful, yoo weel suffor for what yoo are dooing too arse. Es shurely es my accent ees stereotyped, I weel make yoo pay. I just want too say wan teeng too yoo..."

"Oh yeah?" I retort, spitting out blood, "what's that?"

"Still playing games ah?!? Play, play, play! All the time play only! Get back to work lah you!"

With that, I snap back to reality and switch off the game. Sigh. It's so nostalgic re-installing and playing my old game of Delta Force: Task Force Dagger, and it's hard to stop. But the joke's on my boss. I saved the game, bwahahahaha!!!    

The End?