Kitab Atok: tuturan alambina

REAL ARCHITECTS

A friend emailed this the other day:

--------------------------------------- start ---------------------------------------------
>> REAL ARCHITECTS
>>
> > Real architects don't design buildings, only spaces.
> > Real architects don't believe in the Universal Law of Gravitation.
> > Real architects don't believe in most other forms of physics, for that matter.
> > Real architects have no respect for engineers, with the rare exception of the civil engineer.
> > Real architects don't need sleep. They don't get any either.
> > Real architects don't let sustainability get in the way of real design.
> > Real architects don't have a life.
> > Real architects think space exploration is a design process.
> > Real architects have reclining studio chairs.
> > Real architects have larger studios than bedrooms. That is in the rare case where the two are not the same.
> > Real architects have read "The Fountainhead" more than once.
> > Real architects see the world in black and white, at most in grayscale.
> > Real architects know that light is a magical phenomenon and not just a form of electromagnetic radiation.
> > Real architects will tell you more than you ever need to know about reflection but don't have a clue what refraction is.
> > Real architects don't drink anything weaker than double expresso.
> > Real architects think that plaid looks good so long as it has Golden Rectangles.
> > Real architects don't use cameras.
> > Real architects do use slide projectors. They draw their slides.
> > Real architects can see the beauty in a Brutalist building.
> > Real architects know what a Brutalist building is.
> > Real architects design Brutalist buildings.
> > Real architects live in balsa wood and plexiglass houses.
> > Real architects don't understand the word "efficiency".
> > Real architects don't understand the word "budget" either.
> > Real architects have no respect for interior designers, landscape architects, or city planners.
> > Real architects go to libraries to look at the building.
> > Real architects live in glass houses.
> > Real architects don't live in the 'burbs.
> > Real architects own more knives than chefs.
> > Real architects make less than $20,000 a year. Those who make more are architectural whores.
> > Real architects talk to buildings. Really Real architects have been known to date them.
> > Real architects know their house better than their spouse. That is if they even have a spouse.
> > Real architects get divorced more than once.
> > Real architects, when starving and coming across a piece of food, will draw it first.
> > Real architects describe their house's façade instead of its address.
> > Real architects would rather be poets or artists, though not real poets or real artists.
> > Real architects always take the stairs.
> > Real architects see architecture not as a career but as a way of life.
> > Real architects hate all things plastic.
> > Real architects don't use ballpoint pen.
> > Real architects don't use rulers. Rulers are for engineers.
> > Real architects can draw straight lines. They just choose not to.
> > Real architects don't believe in right angles.
> > Real architects do believe in Feng Shui.
> > Real architects see everything as a geometric shape.
> > Real architects pretend to understand math when they really don't.
> > Real architects don't study.
> > Real architects eat one meal per day.
> > Real architects don't draw, that's the intern's job.
> > Real architects don't design, that's the new guy's job.
> > Real architects simply pull visions out of their [deleted], which they refer to as their trash chute.
> > Real architects only know two types of trees, balsa and bass.
> > Real architects use tree stamps.
> > Real architects draw graphs in perspective.
> > Real architects always know which way North is.
> > Real architects always use the front door.
> > Real architects have egos unrivalled by anyone except other
> > Real architects.

--------------------------- end ----------------------------

Mmm... very interesting.
I didn't really check my score, but I guess it must be at least 50% ....

posted by Atok @ 3:25:00 pm (0) comments

taik kucing dalam pasir...

walau tak kelihatan, bau nya sakan.

dengan peruntukan RM490 juta (lebih kurang £74 juta), sekarang ni dok kecoh pasal cadangan nak dibangunkan Akademi Sukan di tapak Tun Abdul Razak Rubber Research Laboratory, Brikendonbury, ... tempat yg sememangnya dikenali ramai oleh masyarakat Msia di UK ni, pasal di situlah di setiap tahun diadakan Malaysian Carnival sempena dengan sambutan 31 Ogos merdeka; tahun lepas tak buat, kansel.. ramai yg frust dan tertanya-tanya.

atok tak pernah nak tulis / komen pasal benda-benda gini, tapi... ntah, rasanya saban hari semakin banyak pulak kes-kes taik kucing dalam pasir ni. beberapa tahun dahulu kecoh pasal bangunan Msia Hall/MSD di Bryanston Square yang tidak diperbaharui & diserahkan lease nya. bila kata nak beli bangunan baru, maka berduyun-duyunlah broker yang dok gi berkerumun setiap hari; masing-masing dengan cadangan [dan pulangan] masing-masing; tawar menawar, hulur menghulur... macam-macam lah.

memanglah akhirnya atok pun terlibat sama semasa projek pengubahsuaian bangunan York Hotel kepada New Msia Hall /MSD kira-kira dua tahun yang lalu. tapi, penglibatan atok hanyalah semasa kerja-kerja di tapak, setelah pembelian dan anugerah tender selesai. itu pun macam-macam cerita. bangunan dibeli oleh kerajaan Msia dengan harga £13 juta, tapi sumber maklumat atok bagitahu, pemilik hotel tu jual hotelnya pada seorang broker (org Msia la jugak) dengan harga £9 juta sahaja. tambahnya lagi, ianya dijual sekali lagi dengan harga £11 juta kepada broker Msia yang lain pula... dan akhirnya seluruh rakyat Msia pakat selok poket beli dengan harga £13 juta. dan proses ini berlaku dalam beberapa hari atau minggu sahaja.. on paper je kata orang, takyah keluar sen pun... air liur je. patutlah ramai yang berebut-rebut, kalau atok tahu... atok pun try masuk; takde nak sibuk-sibuk nak tulis blog lah, apa lah sekarang ni, dok rileks atas bot di Puerto Banus la gamaknya kot... tak pun tepi tasik di Switzerland.

ramai yang terkejut dengan keuntungan £4 juta tu, kalau takat puluh ribu tak pa lah, nama lagi broker, mesti ada untung. pakcik makcik broker jual tanah getah kat kampung pun dapat jugak sikit. tapi £4 juta! ... tipah tertipu lagi.

kisah ni pernah disebut di parlimen pada bulan april tahun lepas (ada hansard kalau nak tengok) dan seterusnya diterbangkan 3 orang pegawai BPR ke Kota London untuk menyiasat. tapi rasanya takat cukup syarat je lah... tak de apa-apa pun.

tu belum cerita pasal kontraktor Msia yang buat kerja ubahsuai lagi, fuhhh... jutaria dia sapu duit rakyat Msia jugak. kontrak hampir mencecah £3 juta dengan segala mak nenek Variation Order Claims. betul, atok makan gaji dengan dia masa tu... tapi terus-terang, nak mengaku atok involved dengan projek tu pun kadang malu. sampai sekarang bangunan tu masih ada masalah, defect liability period dah lama tamat... apa peduli dia. sekali lagi, rakyat Msia akan bermurah hati selok saku masing-masing, dah la nak bayar petrol pun tak cukup sen.

lepas siap Msia Hall/MSD yang baru di Bayswater... di kawasan yang dipenuhi dengan hotel, tiba-tiba ada cadangan Msia High Commission pun nak beli bangunan jugak eh. ada lagi 29 tahun lease di bangunan sekarang, tapi... kalau beli yang freehold lagi elok, macam Msia Hall/MSD tu... firasat sebahagian orang. dah tu, jerung-jerung pun sekali lagi gempar... ramai dok gi kerumun. masing-masing nak ngap, apatah lagi bila dah nampak kawan mereka 2, 3 orang dapat segunung emas sebelumnya dari Bayswater tu.

maka berbondong datang lah lagi pasukan dari JKR gi tengok bangunan-bangunan yang dicadangkan jerung. dok cari di sekitar Mayfair, tak nak kalah eh. ada lah 3, 4 tempat. hujung-hujung, dipilihnya satu... berdekatan dengan Dorchester Hotel di Park Lane. bangunan ni pak arab yang punya, tapi dah 2 tahun dok kosong. maka dipaksabuatlah proposal akan JKR... drawings dan serba mak nenek. jerung yang empunya dah bermimpi naik ke bulan. namun, apakan daya... Pak Lah kata, tak dak duit... tok sah buat! aiseyman... (boleh simpan dalam fail sesama ngan jambatan bengkok).

ni pulak... jerung mana yang nak melombong di Brikendonbury ni? mushkil atok... nak kena ask around ni, atok pun nak jugak.




21.07.06
!!TERKINI!!
Berita dari seorang rakan, cadangan pusat sukan ini telah menemui kegagalan di meja pihak berkuasa tempatan semalam.

posted by Atok @ 1:18:00 am (0) comments

l.u.t.u.t.

When I saw Micheal Owen crawled to the side line the other week, I could feel his pain... the pain I was so familiar for a number of years.

It was back in 1991 when I first collapsed in front of the goal mouth one afternoon, after only a few minutes of ball kicking with fellow archie-mates. It was my own fault, I didn't warm-up. That afternoon alone, it happened 3 times, and everytime my knee gave way... I went out and rested at the sideline.. then went back in again... and it happened again... and again, and again. At the end of that afternoon... I had to be carried back to the room by friends and spend the night crawling in agony.

The next day, I went to see the doctor at the clinic... and he gave me 'ubat sapu'... yes, the 'minyak panas' one. "terseliuh" he said, duh! [doctor ayam tul la mamat tu].

But, that minyak panas didn't do a thing; I repeatedly collapsed during tennis games and finally decided to retire from any sports whatsoever. Or, as a friend said, "sports yang geli-geli boleh lah".

It was only when I came to the City of Dreaming Spires, finally I had a more sensible guy-in-white at my alma mater who sent me to the Nuffield Orthopaedic Centre for some serious sorting out on my wobbly knees. Soon, I had my torn meniscus removed, and the year after that, my ruptured anterior cruciate ligament was reconstructed (using a ligament on the side of my calf). I was told, they used 2 little metal pins to initially secured the ligament to its place, before it developed itself and naturally attached to whatever/where ever it needs to lah.

When I came out from the operation theatre and was fully awake, the nurse briefed me on a few things, but the thing that I still remember was that big cylinder attached to my bed, near my head. It was the pain-killer morphine. I was told to administer it myself, whenever I had to, by pressing a button placed close to my fingers. For whatever reason, I didn't press it not even once. The next day, she came around and said, "you're such a brave man. i don't think you need this anymore", and took it away. And guess what.... that evening, I was so in pain that they had to gave me anyway, haha...

And my housemates would sneaked into my ward late in the evening... and stealthly passed... "atok, ni ada nasi goreng", or "atok... nah, nasi + ayam. aku chow dulu". The ward was like a temporary cabin-like building and my bed was the first from the entrance door, way before the nurse station... and the door was never locked. Kelakor...

It was the years when IRC was the big thing; we used to 'berjuang' all thru the nite until the rooster came out... normally chatting with fellow malaysians across the Atlantic. Hence, my nick was 'lutut', and my first email was (still is, albeit rarely used) 'lutut@hotmail.com'. That was the good old days... when saturday nites were 'ronggeng' nights at the union bar.


* about 3 years ago, I had another operation on my other knee. but my worst experience was in 1991 when i had appendicitis. at klang gh, they tried to put me on local anaesthetic... but after 7 painful injections on my spine... it failed to get to the nerve, and i was put on general. my back was black and blue. "ilmu apa ko pakai?", they asked. ilmu apa!? korang yg tak cukup ilmu... nak inject tu pun failed.

posted by Atok @ 12:52:00 am (0) comments

Pirate of the Solent

Minggu lepas, ofis atok, seperti di tahun2 yang lalu, sewa 3 bot layar di Hamble Point Marina. Di siang harinya, boss bawa client belayar dan makan. Bila petang, mereka semua tamat... para gurkha lah pula pi pekena... dari kul 5:30pm sampai malam. Belayar keluar dari marina menuju Isle of Wight dan patah balik. Ni first time lah for atok; penat jugak weh... byk teamwork - naikkan layar, ubah layar, tarik tali sana sini, macam-macam. It was a great fun. Angin takde la kuat sangat, so kurang syiok... tapi okaylah for novice macam atok ni, tu pun gabra jugak.

Dah habis tu, pekena calamari + chips sambil borak-borak... sampai 10:30pm baru balik; hari masih terang.

posted by Atok @ 12:06:00 am (0) comments

Ubat

A few months ago we were shocked by the news of a drug trial that went horribly wrong and put six healthy men in intensive care units fighting for their lives.

“Hai ubat, hai ubat…mari beli ubat. Kalaulah terlambat tak dapat”, enticed Do, Re & Mi into buying their concocted (and untested) medicine.

Earlier this year, an academician from a Malaysian premier university opined that Malay traditional bomoh with their healing methods should not be cast aside but instead should be studied to see whether it could play a complementary role to the modern medication available in the country.

All these, somehow twined into what I would say one of my favourite pastimes whenever I found myself back at my Tanah Serendah Sekebun Bunga, i.e. my passion of tengok oghe jjua obak (watching traditional medicine sellers). In my far-away hometown, there is in fact an established spot where medicine sellers conduct their theatrical performance, which adds to the town’s colourful and unique quality not found in other parts of the country.

If its still there (I hope)… the very spot is in the old market area, on the road where Sayang Berjaya Supermarket was (I can’t remember what it is now)… near the kereta sewa ranks, in front of a keda taya (tyre shop), near Ching Seng Supermarket (still exist?). When the green and white party reclaimed the power in 1990, the chief minister donated a couple of payung ija besa (big green umbrellas) to the medicine seller informal establishment. There must been an ‘election’ system that took place in the mid-morning before the theatre opened on who would go first, his time slot and the rest of the rota. If my memory serves me right, I think 1 hours is the time slot per person.

And… as always, the one with ubat kuat-besar-panjang-tegap-lama draws most audience.

This brings me to another story, recently told by my dad when he was here last year. If you’re looking for the cocktail for the above ubat, sorry… it was not on that; simply more on mystical or magical knowledge as I’ve blogged before. It happened in the early 70s, when I was running around with my ultraman toy in between knitting; the period when my dad was actively seeking the knowledge with his 6 close friends which sometimes brought them to remote caves and jungles. The days when I couldn’t wait for another peghasat/mmandi kegheh session (keris cleaning ritual) when I would sat a tad away from dad, copying each of his delicate steps with my little screwdriver on top of my twirling asap ubat nyamuk.

Anyway, one fine day in the Land of Lightning, a young Javanese medicine man came to town. Astonished by the young man performance, especially with his magical keris, my dad and his very close friend, Abang M, went to visit the man on the night after his jjua obak slot in the morning. He was staying at KB Resthouse (once stood where Perdana Hotel is now). The javaman demonstrated his magical abilities further but although my dad and his friend were indeed impressed, the man’s arrogance slightly disgusted them.

The next day, when the very man got his slot at the theatre of dream, my dad and Abae M were again in the crowd. As on the previous day, the man sliced his wrist with a super sharp knife but amazingly he wasn’t even cut… his flesh was intact, apart from an artificial/dented cut line. He was what we called kebal (invincible). But this time, just before he did that, Abae M whispered to dad:

“Kito aja sikik dio ni”.

“Tok soh la, ssiae ko dio. Nyanyo, dio nok caghi makae”, replied dad.

“Ahhh… tak po, aja sikik”, Abae M said, and proceeded.

The man, again, sliced his wrist. But this time… fresh red blood came pouring out instantly from a gap on his wrist. He was really panicked and quickly covered his cut with the other palm but the blood kept dripping out. Abae M and dad stepped in ….. and stopped the bleeding (don’t ask me how… it’s too complex to write here lah).

The man put his both hands up and sembah Abae M and dad repeatedly; “Maafkan saya, maafkan saya…“, he kept going.

Dad explained to me, the man’s 'sin' was, apart from behaving arrogantly, he forgot the first and basic rule of engagement for doing such thing; that is to seek permission from the audience in ‘showing’ some mystical abilities (for the purpose of cari makan, not for showing off per se). Hence, he was lessoned…

posted by Atok @ 12:15:00 am (0) comments