Those Nine Little Words

Suasana di rumah sungguh beromen

Yeah, the light in the bathroom fused, or died. Or whatever you call it. So no one here to fix it. I probably could, but the ceiling is quite slanty and I'm scared of ladders. Not heights, just ladders. I fell off one once, and the crippling pain it inflicts on the ass is not one I would care to relive in my old age.

Aheh. Old age konon! :D

Anyway, my mom and I have been forced to be "bathed in candlelight." It's actually quite fun. All dark and nice, but just enough light to see what you're putting on yourself and where you're putting it.

Sort of reminds me of something:



That time you came over
and we slept
under the moonlight
and when it hit dawn

we took a shower.

You washed my hair
and its thick, heavy mass
not complaining the whole time,
like I usually do.

you dried it out
thoroughly,
not a simple
wipe job that
most people do.


and then because
I begged you-
you braided it.

I still wonder how
you know to braid hair
(my hair)
but I guess I will
never know
now.

I was trying to delay
your exit
(because I thought we shared an amazing moment)
when you pushed me
off the couch,
pet my freshly washed head




and said,
you were going on a date with Rachel.


After you left, in a rebellious rage- I unbraided everything
and watched the midnight colored tumble
(with its natural curl)
fall away
(in disdain).


By the way, it's been a week and I still haven't heard you utter those lovely words yet:

Would you like to have a drink with me?

I'm still waiting in anticipation, just thought you'd like to know that.

Instant Expert

I'm not saying I am an instant expert. Everything in life comes from learning and re-learning.

I am so sick and tired of bigots, racists and supremacists. Indulging me in debates where I will never win because you already perceive yourself as superior to me, to begin with. After all what am I right? Minority, you're the majority, what do I deserve?

You will go to heaven, I will not. I was doomed from the very beginning according to you, well then, I guess whatever God you believe has left me here as nothing but a victim of circumstance, a insignificant plaything, and rightly so, you say.....

Because I am nothing in your eyes.

Some part of me wants to show you how much you hurt people with what you say, but I think and I know, you don't really care. You laugh or grin because you think the authenticity of the Bible is a joke? You think you champion the rights of your religion from external threats, but you offer no compassion, you offer no love, no understanding to people of other faiths, if that is truly what your religion is about then I am happy to say I am glad I don't belong with you.

There is God and there is Justice. You speak of this God so much, remember that He watches you as much as he watches me. I really want to hate you so much right now.

Sleeping Alone Is Distasteful

Long conversations on
instant messenger
are the wave of the future

romance
in text and pixels
or the promise
of it
at least.

sarah says this is
good for
me.

i thrive on
passion
because it helps
me
forget



how much i want you to be here
right now.



*


Aksi Playground*

Aku pasti

bila kau datang ke sini
secara sekret
dan membaca karya aku,
blog entry aku yang emo
dan
puisi aku,


yang penuh
perasaan
menceritakan

kekalahan aku di mata kau
dan
keinginan aku untuk bersama kau
(walaupun untuk seminit)

kau pasti teringat
semuanya pasal engkau, kan?

tapi sebenarnya, tidak.


*Sori, Idlan kali ni aku guna lepas tu, kau pulak guna untuk movie yang kau buat- di mana aku jadi heroin berkulit cafe latte, berambut gebu dan hitam, dengan mata coklat yang berkelip-kelip. :)

Sepet dan Gubra: Pencemar Budaya?

Featured on Fenomena Seni.


I was studying when I was informed by TV smith to take a look at RTM 1. I missed most of the arguments, and parts of me are glad I did because I got to hear the panelists championing some lovely, hot, heaping bigotry.

The show (Fenomena Seni) is hosted by Rosyam Nor and features talks films and culture on Sunday nights from 8.30 to 10.30 PM. I am really not sure who the panelists were today, I would appreciate it if someone could fill me in (It's good to keep your enemies close I hear).

I know this is a really bad exercise in journalism because it was written in haste (have to study) and with much too much emotion (very angry), but I'm going to take the excuse that this is a personal blog and talk about it anyways because I feel damn strongly about it. So much of what was said was unbelievably hurting to me, and I'm extremely dissapointed with the kind of close-minded, bigoted thinking we have in Malaysia.

Either way, some excerpts from the RTM 1 live show of the debate on whether Sepet dan Gubra, Pencemar Budaya.

1st Gentleman : Akmal Abdullah

He mentioned that Sepet wasn't a social reality and if so, only a narrow one at that. His relative married a Chinese and that particular Chinese man was very open to accepting Islam etc. Very much unlike how Yasmin portrays it in her movies. All of sudden midway, he started to get a little disgruntled and talked about how a Malay person could "masuk kedai babi?"

- We all know its not the social reality, I mentioned this in my post before. It does show a narrow view of our society, but that is the world to some of us, lest we forget. Also, it may be idealistic but the movie also does try and show us values that we are lacking in (such as genuine acceptance of other races and religion).


2nd Gentleman : Hassan Abd Muthalib

Yasmin's film is Malaysian as stated by FINAS regulations. It has "bangsa-bangsa asing yang menjadi players dalam pembikinan filem."

-The fact that someone has to mention bangsa-bangsa asing (foreign races) to describe "my kind" which is just as Malaysian as he is, is so bloody dissapointing to say the least. Read it again and tell me how horrible it sounds, why that was even mentioned or in what context it was said in remains a mystery to me. What race has to do with anything actually? But then again in Malaysia, everything and absolutely everything has to do with the color of your skin.

*edit*
I misquoted Mr. Hassan, see comments, fully understand his context now, apologies:

Hassan Abd Muthalib said...
Hey, I've been misquoted! (it's not the first time). What I actually said was that Yasmin's films fit in with the FINAS slogan 'Filem Malaysia Era Globalisasi' & that now there are new players from the other races in the industry (which should be accepted).

3rd Lady : Director of Movies

*edit*

shwumacher said...

*edited again*

Raja Azmi was the producer of Black Widow Wajah Ayu and wrote the screenplay for Cinta 200 Ela..she however, wasn't the director of those movies. Black Widow was directed by U-wei and Cinta was directed by Shadan Hashim. Still, this does not absolve her from the prejudices she reflected on the show last night.

Once again, do help if you saw the whole show. This is extremely infuriating. She was the worst, most bigoted one of all! Since I first saw her talking all she could say was how Islam wasn't delivered well in the show, Malaysia's multi-culturalism has been known to exist for a long time it is unnecessary to show it, because we (Malaysians) have accepted it for so long already. Malaysia ialah TANAH MELAYU and something along the lines of Orang Melayu yang berbudi bahasa have let the other races be here with full acceptance and tolerance.

- Aww thank you, how nice of you!


The fact that we are having this debate strikes me as odd. One of the callers, Haris said it perfectly well. There are far more damaging movies being shown everyday that have violence, sex, and other detrimental elements that might affect the oh-so delicate Malaysian audience, so why is it that a love story should receive this kind of extensive coverage?


Because, it is about a Chinese boy falling in love with a Muslim girl.



Not even about her Melayu-ness! But, about a Muslim girl who is brought up in a liberal Islamic family, where parents are pretty vocal about their love for each other and behave as most married couples normally do in the privacy of their own homes. Because Orked, our beautifully baju-kurunged heroine walked into a kedai babi! Oh the shock. All our sensibilities down the proverbial drain, eh? Can't handle it. Cannnnot. Mana boleh macam tu! Mesti kena marah!


I am all for the fact that Sepet and/or Gubra aren't the epitome of Malaysian social realities. In fact, it is extremely idealistic to have such displays of humility, love, and respect in real life. In fact, watching it made me cringe in disbelief that there exists this very same thoughts (of an ideally Utopian Malaysia) in someone else's mind, other than my own!


But the question I pose to you is this:

What in God's name is so wrong with the world Yasmin Ahmad has created in Sepet and Gubra and how does it pollute our culture?


Are there riots? Are people getting hurt and offended in Orked's world? Or is there patience, humility and love for your fellow men- despite the fact that they are sometimes women who sell their bodies for money? Or the fact that they might have AIDS and you've volunteered to teach them how to read the Quran?

Raja Azmi said right before she summarised, that Yasmin's delivery of Islam was wrong and convoluted. It was not delivered in the right way, and the bad highlighting of Islam overshadowed the good.



Listen to me.



I am Catholic. I am non-Muslim. I am non-Malay. I am a Malaysian citizen. I am 23 years of age and was registered to vote since 2 months ago. I am second generation Malaysian.

Most of all, I am in love with this country.


The movie highlighted the very way we should try to be in Malaysia, every single day. I'm not advocating mixed-marriages (I am however, very much in favor of it) or walking into kedai babi's, but look at the good the movie has shown us. Why do people never ever do that? The lady talks about how Islam was cast in a bad light so much so, it overshadowed the good in Islam.

Are you blind, woman?

The movie made me want to weep because Islam is supposed to be practised in that way. Sadly, in Malaysia, I haven't been exposed to many people who do practice that brand of Islam. You say you're shocked that a woman as pious as Yasmin made the movie that way... In what way?

A movie highlighting the genuiness of your religion? So much so it brought me to tears, that someone could have so much compassion for his fellow man? Ask any non-Muslim on the street, go on ASK THEM what they thought of the Islam in Gubra and you will hear confessions of "How I wish it were truly that way...."


Maybe some of you out there -and I am sure many of you will have a problem with me saying this- should look back into yourselves.... in that secret place only you go to, and ask yourselves are you being fair to Yasmin and the Malaysians you meet in your daily lives, but most of all are you being fair to yourselves?

Are you showing the best of your humanity to your fellow man?

All I know is, I walked away extremely berdukacita and most importantly, tercemar...


I feel bad for Yasmin, I sure do hope she has thick skin.

* See also Nazrul

* See a Malay review by MUTEAUDIO

Ed's Note: I apologise for the misquotes and have edited them where necessary. It was a very emotional post therefore might be lacking in clarity, if you do need me to clarify anything please drop me a line at meeshlet AT gmail DOT com

Thank you for reading and thank you for pointing out errors, as someone said, writing is all about rewriting :P

An Ironic Rejection

I hate rejection andI hate irony.

Eye rhen nee.

I hate it even more, when they combine forces
for a maximum impact
thud.


You see
I never fall for
like
crush on
fantasize about
yellow-skinned men
because in my experience
(save once)

they never
fall for
like
crush on
fantasize about
brown-skinned girls.


Yesterday
to my dismay
the yellow-skinned boy
I was trying so hard
not to
fall for
like
crush on
fantasize about
told me
about who

he was
falling for
crushing on
fantasizing about












a brown-skinned girl,no less.
(surprise surprise!)



and i felt the thud
of rejection and irony

eye rhen nee

deep in the reaches of my already broken heart.

So now
I cannot concentrate on the matters at hand
Oh, Heartbreak is such an occupational hazard.





Inspired to put this up by a conversation I just had with a particular yellow skinned boy. Written in June of 2004 on the back of an old receipt for McDonalds's, but I really cannot remember why or fathom who it is about.

Gubra And Everything Else In The Middle

I watched Gubra yesterday with Sarah. I don't think it is necessary to give you a review, I think you have to watch the movie and make out your own opinions. Just like anything Malaysian, the imprints of situations come out differently when a different Malaysian watches/reads/listens to something.

Sure, the are similiarities, when I read Tash Aw's Harmony Silk Factory, I clearly remember most of the things he mentions (old uncles having matinee names) and can relate to some of it. It also made me want to move to Ipoh for awhile, a sentiment my aunt shared with me after reading the book too.

However, I will say this. It is nice to see a middle-aged (and I say this in the nicest way possible) Malaysian woman such as Yasmin not losing any of the idealist sentiments most people have lost by her age. The love and the life in her movie never lost any of its vigour and hope, and I am proud to know there are still people like that in our country with that same child-like hope.


Gubra:

A world where marriage is still about fun and games, and chasing each other around the house.
A world where a Chinese boy can fall in love with a Muslim girl.
A world where a fat, servant can still be courted by a bashful male nurse.
A world where a bilal and his wife can be romantic, without it being looked at as dirty.
A world where the very same bilal can be friends with his prostitute neighbors.
A world where we can hurt and get hurt, and still move on.



Halfway through the beginning of the movie, and its accompanying music- Kabhi, Kabhi Dil Mein, a very popular evergreen Hindi song, I smsed the Ex. Personally, I'm not a big fan of Hindhi movies, but I knew it would be right up his alley.

Hey, remember the movie Sepet that I dragged you to watch? The sequel is out, Gubra. It's really good so far, and there's a an amazing Hindhi song you will recognise. You should come watch it.

And he replied:

No, malas la. What's the point, I will have to watch it alone. Thanks anyways.



Kau hancurkan hatiku, hancurkan lagi.


And I wanted to kick myself for even trying. But that okay, we all deal with things differently. I hope he goes to watch it, and I hope he realises a few things, as I did, and as we used to have countless fights about.




Whatever it is, I would like to be a part of Yasmin Ahmad's poignant, world. And I think Alan in the movie said it the best, that sometimes being here is like loving someone, and not having them love you back.





Love me back, because I love you very much tanah tumpah darahku. No matter what anyone says.










I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad, the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had- Mad World, Gary Jules.

Sarah and meesh Take the Train.

So, on this bright and shiny Wednesday morning, Sarah and meesh decided to take a train to complete their photography assignment.

First, we were confused by the maps. What are these illustrations!! "Train maps for dummies" please?


Then we were afraid of the train. Why is there nobody here? Save the scary white dude in the uniform who was staring us down. Should we get in? Yes? No? Yasmin Yusof on the intercom says its okay. "Ding ding ding ding! Stesen berikutnya DAMAI! Next station DAMAI!" Who can resist such optimism in the morning?! Where are you, Yasmin, on our radios?!

KL Sentral, where high flying people get treated like school children. For the price of your ticket, a guard will stand and whistle and keep you in line for his own horrid amusement. (Actually, quite good also lah. Malaysians are so uncivilized that we need someone to whistle and shake a baton at us baru beratur baik-baik.)

Some people's feet don't touch the ground. This is indeed a magical mystery tour. Those of you who do not understand this, you should be ashamed of yourself.

(I don't know why we developed a shoe/feet fetish. Sarah in blue Puma and meesh in red Converse that are marked RIGHTY and LEFTY in case she ever forgets.)

We were tempted to get on the bus but the train was much more comfortable!

Somewhere in the middle of the journey we got sidetracked.

By food.

What else.

BAGEL STATION!! OMG! BAGELS!! CREAM CHEESE! While meesh went screaming "LOX, LOX!" like the yenta that she is. (Lox= Jewish salmon spread.)

Ever since returning to Malaysia, meesh has been furtively looking for bagels. And since she has an averse allergic reaction to hoity-toity malls, she has been unable to find them until today. She bravely ventured into Avenue K.

("Actually, do you really need more dumbing down?" says evil Sarah.)

Gonna go watch Gubra now, after home-made Green Pepper and Tuna Pasta. Please do share with us your public transportation journeys.

This post was brought to you by the chickas meesh and Sarah, and the productive feeling of boredom! Whee.

Strange Love

(not the Doctor)

Today was a good day.

It wasn't particularly special, but it wasn't depressing either.

Not that I am, depressed, that is.

I have great music

It makes me so happy inside, I want to curl my arms around myself

and die.

But then,

in my head its nothing but,

memento mori

memento mori

memento mori

I tell myself you've gone down this road before

and you will probably go down this road again

feels like

meesh's enraged, flaming sense of rejection

sometimes.

the kind that eats you up inside

why is it all they sing about these days

is heartbreak, loss, rejection, unrequited love?

it has been going on for awhile now hasn't it?

when are we going to get up and tell people

the stories of hearts mended, hearts in love?

i know we'll get there.

and there will be mad love for all of us in the gutter,

but still....

i'm

waiting and looking up

at the stars at 3.47 AM on a cold Monday morning.

Inspired by the freaking cold breeze and bright ass moonlight from my window, Oscar Wilde and my man, Gary Jules. Copyright forever, meesh.

The Strangest Thing

for dinner, that is.

Due to my inherent laziness otherwise known as residual slothfulness after an important exam, I ate a cold dinner. You know how every exam you take, they say reduces your brain cells and makes you less smarter than when you began? Yeah, sad thing.

With a throbbing headache I made my way to the fridge and roughed up a cold dinner, not because I don't have heating componenents in my house of course ;). Cold chicken with a cold bun and cold potatoes mixed with cold salad and cold ketchup.


Reminiscent of Enid Blyton's cold lunches of ham and eggs, washed down with cool ginger ale. I read Enid's books only for the largely descriptive usage of adjectives to describe the kids' school lunches and picnics, not to mention midnight feasts.

I am very dissapointed when English people tell me their food sucks compared to ours and their national dish is chicken curry.

I'm rambling aren't I? The painkillers must be working.

Why Are You Here?

In all the years that i have known
You

Don't assume for one second
that
i dont know what You're thinking
when You give me that look of irritation
when i ask

You

a simple fucking question.

i know
You think.
i'm lesser than You.
(it's true You are far lighter than me in kilograms, however).

You think
i am nothing in comparison to
You

i, the moon
You the Sun.

i know You think:


You are smarter
You are prettier
You are better
You wear nicer clothes
You clean up better than me
You have better ideas than me



Sometimes, when i make jokes
and You laugh
i know
You're laughing at me.
And not with me.

But underneath that wall of
perfection and
stoic-ness

you really are nothing.
Because despite my failures at being
You.

i give a shit
about the things that matter
and i live in reality
knowing what i can be (myself)
and what I will not be.
(You)

I am real, because
I AM ME.



Today's poem is brought to you by the letters
I and U, and the number 1 more time you do this to me, you're so over.


Cut off.

This Is What Happens When You Sit At Home For Four Days

Alone, pulak tu.

Utter grossness. I'm seriously telling you, I cannot be one of those people who work from home, I will kill myself. It's the fourth day of being at home on study break, and I'm already freaking out at the state of utter grossness and disarray happening here.

My room is a workpile of notes and books, and notes and books, and magazines that help me procastinate when I should be studying and getting a 4.0 YEAH RIGHT! Ok I wont whine about my GPA, already kena kantoi from so many people about how much better I am doing than them, yeah so won't whine.

I haven't washed my hair in 4 days, it is now a mass of tangles and whirls. Looks godawful like some rats nest as Sarah and Ashvin would say. I was going to go wash it today, my hair is damn thick and curly ok, I must get people to do it, otherwise mati la. So heavy sometimes, yeah so logical thing to do would be to cut it right?

HELL NO.

I have been growing this hair myself for the past 2 years ok. My mom made me cut my hair damn short till I was 16. So cutting is not an option.

Speaking of my mom, she is really weird la. She's got this weird relationship with my dog. They talk to each other all the time, and she actually loves the dog more than me, I suspect.

Me: *huggy wuggy*
Mom: Eh, don't hug me here, she can see. (She being Ava the mutt).
Me: Are you kidding me?
Mom: She gets very offended ok. She's a human dog. Right baby darling?
Ava: HAHAHAHAHA, my puppyness has pushed you off the mark youngling!

Then later, when I was dropping her off at LRT for her check-up:

Me: Najib scares me a little (DPM).
Mom: Yeah la, you know or not, he's put on so much of weight!
Me: That's why he scares me?
Mom: No la, but its not good. Really bad la, what kind of image. Should lose some weight.
Me: Oh Gawd, MAAA! Stop being obsessed with people's weight la!


She really is, okay. So is the rest of my family. Insane. Anyways, I am going to start gym tommorow! After three months, I'm going to be damn bersemangat sehati sejiwa, and lose weight. No more rice!


NO MORE RICE :((((( i heart rice, i really really heart it. Rice had me at hello! :(



How la, I curse the fact that I am Asian and love and view rice as my staple diet! I must have self-control! ARGGGGGH. Peace out comrades, I must sleep now for mass is at 8. And the lousy thing about living in Ampang is that its always bloody jammed.

I Love Holy Week!

Ok, not really la. I know I have to go to church and all, but I really hate the fact that the heat is soooo stifling, and that they always have to do the stations of the Cross, kneel, stand, kneel, stand. Yeah, I know, Jesus died for my sins, it's just so hot though. Ok, won't whine about it. :P

Anyways, every year around this time, my mom is still one of those old school Catholics who think that Easter and Good Friday are more important than Christmas, ok. So she will take leave all, and sit at home and cook sedap giler food. Plain, but still sedap giler and we will all be vegetarian, even though the rest of the month, meesh was happily eating chicken, beef etc.

It's not that I don't like being vegetarian, I really love vegetarian stuff. It's healthy and I love veges. But then, I always forget. Like the other day, I saw these beautiful cuts of Aussie beef in the supermarket, and I just had to buy it! So sedap wei. Went home, cooked it then realised it is not vegetarian you stupid biznitch!

Yeah, I would post pictures of my mom's food, but she's still cooking it, so tak boleh! I have however pictures of my cooking from two nights ago! Damn sedap ok! meesh is a culinary goddess. Carrot and Corn soup, Black Pepper Beef with Green Peppers and my stupid dog, Ava.

I really love Chinese soups and Chinese anything, I'm telling you, I'm secretly also a nice innocent Cantonese girl from Ipoh! I'm the only Indian girl I know that goes to any Chinese shop, namely Nam Heong and drinks lengau soup ok! Even the Chinese aunties are all like WAH! SOMETHING SOMETHING SOMETHING! WAH! Yup, talking about me :D I love wintermelon, tong something, everything la!

Oh, yeah, AVA! The dog, she sits on the floor watching us cook, hoping some tasty morsel of whatever will fall down. Bloody nonsense. When I took out the camera she startd going berserk, posing everywhere, damn vulgar bitch la. Anyways.

Ok, back to studying :(

Thank God for Boys

I am largely at peace now, thanks to Guhan's excellent mechanical contacts! On Saturday after class, I was on my way to meeting Guhan and had almost reached the meeting point when:

Ring, ring, telefon berdering.......
M: Hello? Guhan I'm here already! Where the hell are you?
G: Meesh, my friend cut his fingers off, driving quite fast now, call you back later.
M: What?! Are you kidding me?!
G: *click*

You see, for some reason, the powers that be, hate the fact that Guhan and I meet up every once in awhile and will do everything (in their powers that are being), to stop us from meeting. Guhan will get lost on the way to my house, or someone will die, or there will be the mother of all traffic jams, World War 3 breaks out, earthquakes happen (I shit you not!) the list goes on.


I symphatise with the dude who got his fingers cut off, but not really. Apparently, he's done this twice! Plays with his circular motor saw and then always lops his fingers off in the process. So I was quite annoyed. I'm not mean-spirited being, but seriously, waiting in a car with no air-conditoning for almost an hour in the blazing sun is no joke! Your patience will wear thin, it's no wonder peace processes never work in the desert.


Anyways he finally arrived, and we went to the workshop in Sungei Way. Not to be confused with the shopping mall of ah beng's, tourists and mine alike, Sungai Wang where the 90s pop-hit Lemon Tree is still a current favorite.


The mechanic's name is John. Nice little man, born again Christian, so I was a little wary. I already hung up my rosary on the visor there, just so he knows I'm already Christian, so there would be no offers of church going etc.First thing he asked me when he opened my car door:

You contractor on part-time basis ah?

Why ah? No la, still studying.

Look at your car, it's so dirty!!*mumble mumble, curse curse*


So, yeah aside from insulting my car hygiene habits he did a great job, I would willingly sit there and get insulted again for his excellent workmanship. It ended up costing an arm and a leg, but much less than the first quotation I received from a certain Lying Sack of Shit, so I was a happy girl.

To celebrate Guhan took me to Sri Pandi's for a banana leaf lunch (my favorite meal in the whole wide world!). Seriously, if I were to die, and had an offer of a last meal, this is it:

Fluffy, white Basmati rice, slightly undercooked and long grained.
Hot, sambar with carrot and white carrot.
Fried fish, piping hot.
Acar, mango preferably.
Salty, fried chillies.
Belacan with ulam.
Fried bendi.
A bowl of Chinese lengau soup.
Chinese tea.meesh dieded from happiness.


Yeah, I'm a simple girl, with simple tastes. Guhan wanted to go to a more hoity toity place like God knows where la, but I know they had plates and cutlery, which I entirely disagree with.On that note, what's up with this latest fad at Indian restaurants? This whole plastic plate that ONLY LOOKS like a banana leaf nonsense?! Kill yew!


Chatted, talked, poured heart out, played Text Twist on his pda. Then went to Hartamas Square for beer, pizza and satay. I swear, I hang out with too many foodies.

So, what would your last meal be?

Academia, Oh What A Bitch

Whoever said Journalism was some slacker course ought to be dragged off behind the proverbial shed and shot.

I went into this semster thinking hey, even if I have 22 credit hours, it will be a breeze! Yeah right. No such luck. Even Cinema Studies, the exam I am currently studying for, proved to be more than just watching movies. Albeit, interesting movies.

Do I look like I care about panning shots? Or neo-realism? Or classical film paradigms?






I suppose I do. Updates on the weekend later!

Hate

I am sweating like a fucking pig. Do you know why? Because my bloody air-con has broken down. Sarah and I discovered this on the way to college yesterday. Thinking it was something simple like the air-con needing servicing, I brought it to the nearest workshop which I will now call THE PLACE OF LYING SACKS OF SHIT.

I asked him to check my air-con and he said the pipe had a leak and it needed to be changed, would cost me RM 300, and most likely there's a leak in my cooling coin/coil whatever the hell that is, and that might need to be changed RM 500. So all in all, he said might be about RM 1000.

I just stood there looking at him blankly. I mean, this couldn't possibly come at a worst time. I have been very dilligent with my servicing, most people tell me my car is a delight to drive. I went to Perodua the whole time I had the warranty, then I started going to Shell service people and now my car has decided to fail me?!

Not to mention, my irresponsible, gambling jerk of a father has refused to pay my mother alimony for the past 3 months, so now she's broke and doesn't want to repair the car, and has asked me to wait a week for that vacationing dimwit of a mechanic I always go to, just wind the window down for awhile la, WIND THE WINDOW DOWN?! It's hotter inside than it is on the outisde, and I'm having massive migraines from the freaking SUN!

Fine. Went to the next mechanic, who apprently deals with only air-cons. He tells me no big deal, only the pipe RM 300.

Next one, cooling coil, compressor and pipe and service RM 500.

Last one, Rm 200 for the service which he thinks will last for a month, then he will check my compressor, my cooling coil and my pipe to see if any of it is leeking, his name is Ah Long and he seemed the most honest. Probably 'cos I almost started crying in the grease streaked waiting room.



WHY DO PEOPLE HAVE TO BE SO MEAN AND FUCKING DISHONEST?!?!?!?! JUST BECAUSE IM A GIRL AND I WOULDN'T KNOW ANY DIFFERENT?!?!?!? FUCK ALL OF YOU LYING, HEINIOUS SACKS OF SHIT. I HOPE A DOG SHITS ON YOUR STORE FRONT AND YOU HAVE BAD FUCKING ONG FOR THE REST OF THE DOG YEAR! I HATE ALL OF YOU. AND I REALLY HOPE YOU BLEACHED FUCKING HAIR FALLS OUT AT THE ROOTS AND YOUR MODIFIED WIRA-LUTIONS EXPLODE INTO GIANTS BALLS OF FIRE!






I bloody knew not having a bf was going to kick me in the arse. Car problems only always start after the bloody break-up, never before or during. GRRRRRRRRRR.

It's Just Too Early

My mother needed me to send her to the LRT this morning, on my day off!

I had to be fillial, so I woke up, brushed my teeth and took her to the LRT in my nightgown. I always, always worry that I will get into an accident and people will approach the carnage and think WHAT THE HELL IS SHE WEARING?!

My nightgowns aren't of the Victoria Secret variety, more of the Mak Cik Jual Kangkung variety, I love batik kaftans, secretly, I tell you, I'm a Malay aunty trapped in the body of a 23 year old Indian girl. Plus, no bra, so if they have to give me mouth to mouth, die la. Bewbies for the world to see. But, oh well, cheap thrills for the carnage watchers.

I always wear clean underwear though.

I picked up the Sun when I went to buy coffee and ciggies, and there's a few pieces on the morality legislation they passed on Tuesday. Yeah, people want to categorise morality and on that basis fine/penalise those who go beyond their sanctioned rights to what is deemed right in public?

Three words, WTF? But, it is too early to prove what imbeciles we have running around in Malaysia, so I will continue this spiel at a more acceptable time. Goonight. ZZZZZZZZ

The Fat Chick Goes Home!

Surprise, surprise. I don't usually watch American Idol, being too busy with work etc., but I managed to catch the last few minutes of tonight's episode and:

Mandissa got voted off tonight. Is anyone surprised? Not me. I knew from Day 1, she was going home just because she was fat. The fact that she has the strongest, most powerful voice, tone and great modulation isn't a factor at all, America made sure she got in, then promptly spat her out like the horizontally challenged person that she is.

I think Simon knew she wouldn't make it. You probably knew she wouldn't make it.

Let's face it, physical image is very important in any industry. Why did Reuben Studdard get through then you ask? Well, he is a guy and soceity's expectations of men, let's face it are significantly lowered, unless you're gay, then you're screwed. And it wasn't strange to notice either that Clay Aiken reached the heights of stardom faster than him. I'm not even going to open that can of worms....




Realities of life, suck it in.

I will be the first to admit that I hate being judged by how I look, but I know it is part and parcel of life. I do it very often:

Oh my lord, what is she wearing?!
Her hair is damn weird, seriously.
WTF is up with her THIGHS! Bloody hell, they look like little sausages in meat casing!

Etc.

We all do it. Internally, or otherwise.

While watching Real Women Have Curves on ASTRO the other day, her whole argument to be accepted for what she was, and not what she looked like, I can accept/empathise with. When I was 17 and not as skinny or pretty enough as the rest of my peers, I walked around in crappy jeans and ratty t-shirts with a variety of cynical sayings emblazoned on the shirts, in my effort to gain that acceptance, of myself and not how I look. Then again, I was a little goth rebel so it was expected of me.



Instead, I sold out at age 18, met hot American boys, stuck my chest out and wore slutty tank tops and started wearing make-up.



I'm 23 now, and the battle is hardly won. I'm still very uncomfortable in my own skin and am my own harshest critic, you really don't have to tell me how fat/ugly/unattractive I am, I probably did it at home, or am even doing it right now as we speak.

I have been called names, told that I dress like a homeless person, and sometimes told that I am abusofuckinglutely gorgeous, either way the moment hasn't come where I feel totally relaxed in my own body.

From the moment we wake till our day ends, make a conscious effort at the amount of people we look at and judge based on their appearance. But more importantly, count the number of times we look at those truly gorgeous women who walk all around us everyday, in real life, in blogs, in magazines and even at our local hangouts and secretly wish we could have their thighs, boobs, waist, hair..... and be anything but ourselves.




It's an uphill battle every single day for me, and I'm sure for each one of you out there. I have no messages of hope for you, but work towards making your body your home, that's all I can say.


Thank you.

It's Been A Month

Forgive me if this post makes no sense, there is too much snot in my head from nostalgic crying.

The Ex just fucking called. Everyone told me not to pick up, but in all fairness I did tell him he could check up on me in a month. And today is April 5th. And one of my biggest pet peeves is not answering a ringing phone, and I am essentially a nice person, so I picked up.

I have so not been looking forward to this day, I woke up this morning with trepidation in my bosom, among other things (like mild indigestion/heartburn from all the buffalo wings I ate last night).

Anyways, true blue to what he is and what I suspect will always be him, the conversation moved smoothly for the first 5 minutes, and just as I expected he had to ask, Why did you leave me? Do you still wear my watch, Do you have the teddy bear I gave you still bla bla bla and numerous other annoying questions which he has already procured the answer to from my traitor of a brother.

My point to him was, Look we've already broken up, I'm moved on, and I assume to some level so have you, why are we rehashing this and why are you claiming things that aren't true? Like I didn't tell you why we broke up? I spent 5 days listening to cry and whine and whinge over and over again, and I know I varied from being totally calm to totally pissed off the whole time so much so my hormones were flying all over the place and my cycle which is usually only for 5 days lasted two freaking weeks!


Because I still love you and miss you, he says.

Then why can't you just do the one goddamn thing I want you to do and leave me the fuck alone?

Why does it alsways have to be your way and me looking out for you and whether this or that will hurt you? How about me?!

He apologised after awhile and hung up. I'm really through being Ms. Nice Person, honestly, I am. Sometimes I look back and really wonder was it all worth it? It wasn't a complete waste, no relationship ever is, but God, I stuck to him for so long waiting and waiting and waiting.

I'm just so tired, lonely, dissapointed and very angry.


So much for not blogging depressing shit about myself, which I promised I wouldn't do. Blargh.
I need more buffalo wings.

Talent, It's All About Talent

In an effort to be totally independent and take my car out for a service by myself- yes I do a lot of stuff myself, contrary to popular belief- I went to service my car. It was the ultimate test since having a man in my life for a year and a half has generally softened me a little (especially around the arse and hips, maybe a little in the head). Especially in those menial little tasks he loved doing for me so much.

I might have mistaken the glint in his eyes for enthusiasm, but oh well.

I drove to our mutual mechanic at 10 and upon reaching there found myself outside facing locked doors. Startled, as it wasn't Monday, the day when most Chinese businesses close. I knew it was a Tuesday because I remembered that Charmed, The OC and North Shore was on.... but lo and behold the shop was closed.

So, even after a month of no contact, I still had to brace myself and sms The Ex for Ah Fuk, the mechanic's number. He promptly replied, with the shop number and added that they would only open at 11. So I sat there waiting in my car, listening to Death Cab and amusing myself with the latest Off The Edge issue, and thinking about what I would have for lunch (chap fun).

At 11.10, the shop was still closed, so I smsed The Ex again asking him for Ah Fuk's cellphone number or any other number I could call, he replied with the guy's home number.

Upon calling it a tiny Chinese voice answered, I assumed this would be the daughter. I told her I was waiting outside the shop, and please when would her dad be coming over so I could service my car which is probably running on luck at this point as it hadn't been serviced for 4 months now, thank you very much.

I wasn't at all prepared for her reply and neither will you!

She told me that the whole family, 6 of them were in fact going to makan angin in England and that they wouldn't be back until the 15th, so please call her dad next Sunday and make an appointment then.

My mechanic is going to England for a week and a half with 5 other people.

At this point, a few things popped into my head:

1. Where in the hell does he get off going to England with 5 other people when I need my bloody car serviced?

2. Where the hell did he get all this money to go on this little rendezvous to England to EAT AIR? Even if he lived under the London bridge and got kindly little white old ladies to feed him fish and chippies it would still cost an arm and a leg!

3. He must be overcharging my sorry girl ass that knows nothing about chassises, tail lights, break lights and a bunch of other fluids and oils (if it were of the bodily nature, I would not have a problem, I think) to be able to afford this trip! How much does battery water cost actually? He must have been charging me its weight in gold or something?

4. Whatever this fella is doing I must learn it quick. Then I will promptly cancel all monthly service appointments with him and let him know who will be doing the makaning angin around here. ME, that's who.



I am flabbergasted, so flabbergasted I am actually using the word flabbergasted.

When In Doubt

you will continue to be in doubt.


The college is getting us to finalise our internship agreements. While I have been accepted at my idea of a greeeeeat (reminscent of Tony the Tiger) magazine, I am always and constantly in doubt of my capabilities.

What makes me different? What makes me cutting edge?

The last question makes me feel the worst, the only edges in my curvaceous shape would the shimmy 70s bangs I cut myself several months ago, which have transformed themselves into not edgy bangs of the future but instead, a rat's nest piled on my forehead, but hey! I digress.

I went for an interview yesterday at KLUE, the unofficial guide to the Klang Valley, hothouse of important but unheard of information etc. and I feel like I have totally screwed it up.

Miss S, if you ever read this, you're a fantabulous interviewer, you conveyed no emotion whatsoever, which is all fine and dandy for interviewers alike, but horrible for interviewees such as myself. I myself hope to educate myself on the poker face technique as soon as I can.

By no fault of the interviewer, I managed to make mistakes they always warn you against. But I will stand by what I said, I was truthful if not concise and to the point. I remeber telling myself how much I was rambling, but I just could not stop talking. Affirming, affirming, and more affirming. In my opinion, bla bla bla must sound like a pompous ass :(

Oh well, its over and its all about the learning process I suppose, it doesn't really matter where I go. Here's to a week of iminent possibilities, and creative composition.

Now I am off to service the SLK (small leetle kelisa), by myself because I am a single independent woman, rawr.


PS- Noticed that a large number of people working in the media seem to own Kelisas, is this a coincidence? Something to ponder.