the most basic of all necessity

i haven't been lost of late, so much as speechless, thoughts trailing and scrambled. haven't found much incentive to write either. feels very much trapped within my four walls. the windows are closed, the thick smelly haze and the infectious h1n1 virus out there and me in here. am i keeping them out, or am i keeping myself in, i have no idea. even the simple act of breathing becomes a luxury, fresh sweet smelling air no more taken for granted.

someone says that the people who are still here are so because of the food. our holy sacred local drooling cuisines. i scoff at that suggestion. nasi lemak, bak kut teh, hokkien mee are what is keeping this nation together? surely not. especially not when i can't find an authentic hokkaido ramen with its milky pork bone soup and springy noodles no less, despite hunting high and low for it. neither can i scavenge any bits or leftovers of my much drooled over and anticipated korean ja jiong meen. so how good is our cuisine again? oily mee mamak, vessels blocking roti canai, all-too-meaty bak kut teh; it's all fine and good, but it excels only in its commonness. perhaps i am not appreciating it because its availability stares me in the eyes and things are only good, in your mind, when they are not within grasp. to me, one beauty of our country is that all types of international cuisines are accessible, but of late i've realised the idiom 'jack of all trades, master of none' applies, pretty much like the people that exist in our political arena. what is the use of having all types of bland moderate fare when none makes an impression on your consciousness. so, somehow, i don't think the presence, or absence, of our local cuisines play a big part, for me at the very least, in remaining in this country.

when politics spill over to our daily lives, when people in power are not doing what they should be doing, when the bad guys pretend to be the good guys, i am still here. when they decide that the nation should regress in support of people performing below the benchmark, i am still here. when the dailies report nothing but half truths, mysterious murders never solved, disillusioned with the people in their high pedestal, i am still here. but when the simple act of breathing becomes a labour, that people go about with their days accepting foul smoke as part of their everyday life, oblivious even to the difference, is it worth it?

i am still here, not because of the wonderful buffet of food that lies before our eyes, for after all, food is only a form of subsistence, the very basic of which is to survive, the more luxurious of which to add a little oomph to life. i am still here, because it bears my root, it is my country. not a country that i am proud of, but nonetheless, it is still my country. but is it worth it?