Men Are From Mars, Women Are Confused

COMING SOON

Man's Best friend : Dog

Girl's Best Friend : Diamonds

Which is the smarter sex?

The Perpetuation Of Humanity

A young boy gazes upon a myriad of fluttering sheets of paper. Faces of men and women that seem almost animated in sync with the gush of wind that simultaneously brushes his face. Towering around him are men holding up some of the faces that bemused him so. Moving in animation, like the flip-comics he was given by his father for Christmas. Somehow, these faces seem all the more captivating; more real. Some of these faces seem familiar to him, some words he recognizes. He picks up one of the faces; he reads the red alphabets across the man's forehead, “TIME".

Many years will pass, and the young boy will lose the innocence that allowed him to appreciate that moment, yet the neighborhood newsstand still captures him. He still stands several feet way, staring at magazines that lay on moldy wooden shelves and as if by instinct, his eyes search for that same magazine, that fluttering face in the wind, those four red alphabets.

I remember my first day at the newsstand. That windy day in November that sparked my imagination. Over the years my fascination had indulged itself, from the moment my tiny fingers held the pages of that magazine, my journey towards realization had begun. A journey that I would only realize I was on, at the age of 24.

My dream as a boy of thirteen was to win the Pulitzer Prize for an article in “TIME” magazine. I soon realized that it was only given out to Americans; I did not know this at the time, because I had seen so many of my favorite characters in the movies win the Pulitzer. Reality was unkind to the imagination of a 13 year old. I was probably never going to be recognized for an article, let alone see it published. I had no experience in writing, pursuing a course in journalism was deemed financially unwise by my family. I was destined to take over the lucrative family business, and I did. Forgetting all delusions of grandeur.

My dreams lay dormant in my mind, only in the early hours of the morning were they allowed release. I would sit in front of the computer and let my spirit roam freely. I had so many thoughts and ideas to put down on paper. Despite my insecurities about my writing, I would try. My lack of higher education in the field suppressed my desire. Persistently ignoring this obvious setback, I would write nevertheless, with the comfort in knowing that I wrote driven by my soul and guided by the eyes of my heart. Right or wrong, it would come from a place of honesty.

Reality hits me again. If I was the perfect writer, would I be recognized by the rest of the World? If I did write just one perfect article, would it stand a chance of being published in “TIME” magazine? An article in the world’s most famous magazine from an obscure Malaysian writer, with neither the educational accreditation, nor experience in journalism being recognized for literary genius? It was dream and still is.

Malaysia was very different from any other country i have been to or heard of. Growing up in Malaysia can be likened to living in a bountiful seaport of the early 1900’s. "Traders "and "pirates" alike would come to do business. The "port keepers" would do all in their power to market the port to travelers and traders across the globe in an effort to popularize themselves. Not much had changed from the days of Malacca in many ways. So many cultural divides were crossed, creating this unique identity. The ethnic cultures of the entire region seemed bonded together creating a sort of pseudo-segregated mob that lived somewhat harmoniously.

The British had brought change to Malaysia, long after they had left our shores we continued to progress. We have shifted from an agriculture-based economy to one based on manufacturing and industry. We have been labeled as a newly industrialized nation. The physical landscape of our country is changed and continues to change rapidly still. Malaysia today is a country on the rise. Signs of development only get stronger with each passing year. A growing infrastructure, a stable economy and abundant resources will make us the eventual hub of Asia.

In spite of our incredible progress, we are often criticized by the International media. Our politics and administration has been duly criticized for many years, yet it seemed the fingers being pointed towards us were far from perfection themselves. As humans, we go back to our natural instinct; we hide what we are ashamed of and mask it with contradictory criticism of others. It is no marvel that we have our share of political tension and race based sentiments, but all things considered we are a far more peaceful nation compared to many. Scandals demand attention, less attention was given to the people who live their lives here in harmonious coexistence, the nation.

Fortunate were the children of my generation to be labeled the 'metropolitan'. The ones who were exposed to the life Ala New York, Paris and Hong Kong. With enough of western media, it seemed the only ideal comparison that catered to the Colonial ego we inherited. The one invaluable thing the British left behind, an asset that propelled us out of an infinitesimal existence.

To this day it fascinates me how many Americans or Europeans who I've had the pleasure of meeting are in disbelief that most Malaysians like myself, speak English fluently and are quite aware of the developments of the ‘modern’ world. Irony propels the disbelief in my mind, ' how is it that the people of the so called “world” are so blatantly absent to the developments of the rest of the world?'

Is Southeast Asia just known as 'Bangkok' in the minds of many? And it's no wonder why Bangkok, the capitol of Thailand is recognized by the West. The city was christened unceremoniously in the 1960’s as the 7-11 for sexually deprived American GI's, an unfair label by those who had neither the right nor knowledge to trivialize a great nation that had never been conquered by a foreign power.

We, the lesser known people of the world have no one to blame for this lack of global identity but ourselves. We desperately cling to movies or magazines that give us some semblance of modernization. We allow what we see and hear in distant places to shape our Utopian dream. We are dazzled by Hollywood, we gawk inexplicably at the architectural marvels of Europe, we emulate the fashion of Paris and Milan and we personify success by man in a well tailored suit reading a copy of a crisp Wall Street Journal.

I too am a victim of this absurdity, notice in the first paragraph of this article how I referenced receiving ‘flip-comics’ for Christmas? I don’t celebrate Christmas but I believed the reference would make me more acceptable to global readers. I celebrate Deepavali, the lesser known Hindu festival of lights.

Perchance we should cling to our own inherit assets. After all, Asian influence is so radically patented to become fashionable these days. Herbs and spices that have been ancient remedies for centuries are now bottled and sold as “new discoveries”. The capitalist of merchandising and industry have researched our traditional secrets and manipulated them to their benefit. It would be biased for me to claim that only the Westerners are guilty of ignorance. Perhaps we are significantly ignorant for not recognizing our own potential. If we do not value ourselves, how can we ever hope to be treasured by others?

I have no doubt that if things do not change, and we go through the motions we have pre-set for ourselves respectively. We will reach great heights of success. Maybe someday, a lesser known nation of people will be the next self proclaimed super power of the world. Popular culture will then be redefined and change will come to the world again. If history has thought us anything, it is that great civilizations will rise and fall. What is popular will erode and resurface and we will never fall short of power hungry humans vying for supremacy. We are dominoes, falling over each other in a motion perfectly aligned to tumble. What should happen once all the tiles have fallen?

However insignificant we feel as individuals, I feel all humans fear for the fate of humanity as a whole. My fear goes beyond people not realizing their potential. It goes beyond Malaysian’s going unnoticed globally. What hope do have as a species, if we never take the first step to treating all humans as equals? How much longer can we as humans delude ourselves into believing we have reached our evolutionary pinnacle?

The truth is inevitable. We as a species are selfish and envious. We envy those who are surrounded by greatness and yet we emulate them. Those of us in positions of greatness are blatantly arrogant. We despise competition yet its competition that drives us. We rely so desperately on recognition, and yet a greater threat than a humdrum existence presents itself to us everyday. Our extinction before we have fully evolved.

My view of things may be a dramatic interpretation of things to come, but then again ecologically we have already taken the first steps towards self destruction. So if we care so little about the air we breathe and water we drink, it’s no wonder that we have not taken steps to preserve our humanity.

I wanted to write this article about the “underdogs” of the world but I have unknowingly let my thoughts develop into something with greater depth. My dreams of writing the perfect article have been overshadowed by more pressing issues, and I have no one to blame for this but my own thoughts. I do feel that my motive is true and sincere; this article was not meant to be read but felt. Do I have hope still, of my article being published in “TIME” magazine? Yes but what is more valuable to me is a change. That someday my children or grandchildren will have the opportunity to see their dreams come true and more importantly, that their dreams will be their own.

Perhaps many might question my perception of the world; some might even question my experience in the matter. But I am confident that for some of us down here on the equator, my words will strike a chord within their hearts. Although I hope my words are not mistaken for bitterness. I fear many will mistake it for being so despite this disclaimer. For those of you, who have understood my thoughts, know that while birthing this article, nothing but pride has overwhelmed my heart. Pride in knowing that I am one of the many unsung heroes of the world, yet we are heroes nonetheless.