This little piggy...

“It’s hard to keep a pig pink in the cage”

That's the quote from a friend when I told him about a certain friend who still manages to arrange rendezvous with the ladies despite being heavily guarded by his fiancé.

It’s hardly self explanatory.

“How does that phrase relate? Why pink? And where did you get that?” I demanded.

“I don’t know. Somebody told me that proverb. Evidently, it has something to do with the pig’s health and appearance being restricted to a confined space” he explained.

The pig in cage relates to the person in chains. It describes his mental state and fidelity under tight scrutiny.

Let’s see, a pig caged, in a barn or a sty without proper cleaning will live in its own filth, i.e. piss and shit. In time, the typical pink skin will stain and its mental and physical health becomes questionable. (I wonder if a pig really cares.)

Maybe that’s where the expression ‘in the pink of health’ originated from.

Relatively, a man heavily guarded and monitored by his significant other could turn rebellious; in search for fresh air and personal space. How can anyone expect him to stay clean and faithful?

But do picture this; if a pig is let loose it will run happily in the fields, make new friends and soak in the mud. And then there's sun tan. How then will it ever stay pink?



Which reminds me, I gotta catch Wild Hogs soon.

What it takes

Recent turn of events, tragic as they may be, gave me the impression of how things really work around here.

A workmate took a few days off to take part in the recent by election in Machap. He returned to work feeling good about all the developments going around in Machap.

"That small town is abuzz with activities! The mosque has a new set of paint, the roads are freshly paved and repaved, the community hall is finally taking shape and there's a new park in town! There is good in the demise of the representative, it seems" he concluded.

The second wave is hitting Ijok and the people has reasons to p'p'p'party! They are banking on new promises as dead projects are resurrected and new ones are born. Sleepers wake up and those with agenda scramble to please the people. It is one of those times, if not the only time the people are made to feel in power.

I know I've illustrated the obvious but can you blame me? The circus is in town!

It's you

This morning I had a curious dream. Just before I woke up a little late for work, I was at the church entrance in Miri, calling a friend to drive me back to my house to get my wedding suit. Yeah, I was getting married!

Several minutes passed and Terrence arrived. Soon we were at my house in Miri. I rushed to grab all the wedding accessories prepared earlier and to my horror, I left my jacket in KL!

“Can I just wear my business attire without the jacket?” I asked someone over the phone.

“No. You have to be in a suit!” came the reply.

“Oh crap. What am I gonna do! It’s already 11.30 and I gotta be there at noon!” I said as I flipped through my dad’s jacket collection.

“But these are too big, and old school! Oh, what if I wear a traditional Bidayuh vest. But who has one? I only know someone who has an Iban vest. It’s not the same!...Arghh! Dad’ friends maybe, but it’s too late to ask around!” I thought.

A pair of Bidayuh newlyweds, in traditional bidayuh suits.

A pair of Iban newlyweds, in traditional Iban suits.


“Can we postpone the wedding?” I asked my best man.

“Nope. The guests are already there. It’ll be a disaster if we do”, said the best man, whoever he was.

“It already is!” I exclaimed in despair and woke up.

“What the hell was that all about? Me getting married? I’m not even engaged.” I thought.

I crawled out of bed and made a bee line to the shower, puzzled but unconcerned.

In the car the radio DJ kept telling listeners that it is Friday the 13th and how some people have that taboo belief rigged deep in them. The DJs gave examples of every known places where the number 13 is never used; in buildings, airport terminal gates and the aircraft seat number, to name a few. Over the years and many bizarre experiences people become attached to it.

Yeah, more like it got attached to them. They never relate to me, these bad luck numbers.

At work, Michael buzzed me on Yahoo messenger. He told me he’s getting married and I’m invited as a VVIP friend. We go a long way back.

Mike: I want to invite you to my wedding

Agus: Whoa!

Mike: What’s with the whoa?

Agus: You wanna know something bizarre?

Mike: What?

Agus: Oh, the ‘whoa’ was for someone getting married. The bizarre part is just this morning I dreamt that I was late for my own wedding and I have no suit.

Mike: That’s a weird but really funny dream.

Agus: I sort of seen this coming. Only now I know it’s you.

Just older

Thanks for the birthday wishes guys. Bloggers, Friendsters, mailers, texters, 'in-person'ers, you're all precious!

Contrary to popular belief, there was nothing spectacularly worrisome about turning 30 for me. All the birthday greetings drifted in like whiffs of great coffee and settled like a premium cheese cake; heart warming and satisfying.

A week past 30 now, I feel exactly like I did a month ago. Haha, I can almost hear some snigger ‘wait till you hit 40’. Oh it's forty now? Whatever. My point is, people cope with aging differently and at different stages. There is no point arguing about that.

I can’t deny having questions about getting to the big 'three oh' myself. Curious actually. What’s the big fuss?

A few minutes on the internet gave the picture of a person’s “achievements” at thirty;the things to be expected and the next course of action. I know, a little too late to go through the list. “You should’ve done that five years ago” I hear you say. Oh well, I love my time and I take mine sweet. Sail on, steer on.

Anyway, that got me going “yeah, been there”, “done that” and “eh?!”. There were also many “hmm, now that’s new…”, “ah, let’s try that…” and “nah, not for me”.

~Long story cut short here~

“Welcome to the club” they said as we chinked our glasses and played Blackjack that night.

Being the birthday boy, I got wasted *mandatory* and ended up in the passenger seat as my friend drove my car back, on a really early Tuesday morning! I felt horrible about that, and the only lame excuse I can think of was 'it's my birthday, look at me go...'
Sorry Sam, I messed up.

But hey, that’s another story.

~Long story cut short here~again

As brief as it was, turning 30 was definitely an education, the reason for the fuss in the first place.

Looking at the list of suggested achievements, I chose the ones best suited for my path. This I will continue doing because the list will always add on; so it’s never too late. Plus there’s no pressure that way. And it’s no fun having limited purposes in life.

Voila! I’m thirty. Bring it!