Vodka and Tears

Crooning on my STEREO: Baby Mine by BETTE MIDLER

When was the last time you bawled your eyes out?

Firstly, its the long distance trauma which nobody empathizes with the amount of crap I have to endure for the past 2 years.


Bloody hell. Now here's the film which I CANNOT make myself watch because it just makes me bawl and bawl and bawl:


OH MY GOD can someone REMIND ME NEVER TO TAKE VODKA? Surely it makes sense as to why the Russians take it on a daily basis.

You may be surprised to learn that I have FEELINGS too. HUMAN EMOTIONS that is. Surprise Surprise. At this rate, I can CRY till kingdom come. It better NOT KILL ME, dude.

May the good Lord save me.

Global Warming and the Farce

Crooning on my STEREO: Fifth of Bethoven by NASSAU

I fell asleep while watching AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH because it was boring, highly self-indulgent and rather kid-dish. It's like watching Al Gore's world-saving tactics for dummies; if there's such a movie ever made, but thats how I perceived the entire propaganda of self pity: I didn't win your votes before hence I want to make you feel REALLY BAD about it, because I am a saint and you didn't know this back then....



That whole farce worked on the masses. I am amazed at how many people have come up to me and said that it was the SCARIEST movie ever made. I thought Candyman was scarier. In fact, eurosleaze shows like MalaBimba is hilarious yet scary because the entire twisted plot was supposedly ochestrated by The Devil. (haha)

So, Al Gore scared you into believing that the world shall end quicker, ie. if you continue to use plastic bags, that sin is going contribute to global warming in some puny way.

There is somebody who capitalized on this herd paranoia. Anya Hindmarch invented those rough canvas bags that shouted "I am not a plastic bag." They are cheap. But limited in quantity. Consequently, thousands of plastics (my definition of dumb girls who queued hours to get themselves one) fought for them, so much so that many fans also bought fake ones at cut throat prices just to fit in.

Mind you, saving the world should not be an exclusive deed. And only goodness knows if these canvas bags were manufactured via fair trade. I don't know how much of the world you can save by replacing 1000 plastic bags with 500 "limited edition" canvas bags.

Ok I was slightly wrong. There was no paranoia. It is merely a FASHION TREND. And trends go out of date. They pass on.

Then I have some well-connected young pals who recently co-edited books on bio-degeneration and going green. Of course they didn't write them entirely. But there were posh autograph sessions and press conferences, and it made me equate such occurrences to nothing but, FAME. As a pure juxtaposition, I don't recall Mother Theresa autographing her books.

At that time, there was also a sudden influx of friends within the same circle who raved, 'hey, i am going green because my friend wrote a book on the greenhouse effect.' And I asked 'what do you know about the green house effect?' And she answered, 'Well, our world is in trouble and we are heating up. Peter wrote that we can make a difference by converting waste into energy'.

And I asked, 'Ok. Do you know that Peter the "author" does not car pool and drives around in a Porsche?'

That didn't bother her nor the expanding circle of Peter's friends. In fact, co-editing those books made Peter a demi-god. He is even getting free alcohol in every club he goes.

What I am trying to say is, there are more ethical ways of expounding doomsday. An Inconvenient Truth is an odd way of threatening moviegoers to invest in a method to save the world by presenting the earth's exaggerated vulnerabilities. Hence many corporations turn such mass induced fears into a business by reinstating their "green" reputation. If you are not naive about the global economy, every "green" or "blue" business plan boils down to money and politics. Hence Peter is selling books to launch his career in his family's business empire.

On a macro scale if you didn't play truant on your science and geography classes, there is also an even greater truth that there is really nothing we can do about this decaying earth.We can only slow it down, but not significantly. Let's face it, we are eventually going to end up like the dinosaurs because we claim to know so much of our earth but nothing about the universe.

Now that I am researching on astro-physics, I can tell you a simple theory. Check out our neighbor VENUS below.

Ancient astronomers assumed that there could be life on Venus because of its component similarities to that of Earth. However, every spacecraft that has tried to enter its atmosphere literally blows up due to huge gravitational changes. Later research shows that it is indeed a big greenhouse. It's quite hot. What caused it? Was there some sort of evolution? We can only speculate.

Then we have our MARTIAN neighbor.

Tonight NASA's little robot Phoenix will enter Mars' atmosphere in search of water and other evidence of bacterial life form, thats if it lands safely. It is a giant red planet, looks a little ugly but very reminiscent of our red dessert. It's quite dead. There could have been life in the past but if there was, what caused their demise? Decomposing plastic bags? Again we don't really know.

Ditto to all of our 10000s of unanswered questions pertaining to the other planets in our solar system. What killed the other planetary life forms, if we were not alone in this vast universe? And on our own grounds, what killed off the dinosaurs? Surely they didn't have factories back then.

Because we do not know. Hence, why are we so consumed by Al Gore's Oscar, canvas bags, Peter's book, switching off all lights in the house for a day because a Facebook group tells you to? So much so that we don't have a global clarity of understanding why we do such things. We do such because the mass media tells us to, but we will soon get bored and forget to switch off the plug.

If only we realize how beautiful our Earth as compared to the other fuzzy planets of outer space, we would be genuinely inspired to do things in respect of Mother Nature. It is simply because Man can never stop a sudden asteroid nor cyclone from devouring us one day. It is a fact that too much irreversible damage has been done to Earth. This is general science:

Every living thing has its life span.


And we do not need consumerism to tell us that. In all honesty, many corporate "green" campaigners impart a sense of deluded hope by presenting a world crisis as a bankable trend. Every hype has its anti climax.

So guys, collectively switching off all the lights in your house for one day just because MTV tells you to do so, isn't really going to make a big difference. You are behaving like an ignorant cult member.

ANTM & The AttacK Of The ExeS.

Crooning on my STEREO: Flaunt It by TV Rock Feat. Seany B.

Facebook is a pretty dangerous platform; simply because within the click of button you are able to enable your past to seemingly embrace, or, enrapture you. Well, its pretty cool for some people. I thought it was quite exciting to allow some terrible men of my past to drool over how smoking hot I have become and slap themselves with regret.

But of course, there is also such a thing called backfire.

Damn that word. Some of the recent additions to my friends list are men I had been involved with after the turn of the millenium. Before this I was the eeky angel who never had a guy. (I can't disclose the number because itd just make you cry.) So you can imagine.

Well obviously it didn't work out with any of them in the past. I was always the optimistic one, happy-go-lucky, naive and ready to fall in LOVE. I had no idea the definition of a fuck buddy. A beautiful friend? What the hell was a casual date? I thought if you kissed someone when you were sober, he had to be in love with you.

Then I endured the ugly truth. There were men who came, conquered and left. And I was left crying and bleeding in the bathroom, clinging on to my mobile hoping that somebody would call to say he loved me.

Rather predictably, those knight-in-armour calls never came. There was the occasional SMS that said, "hey would you like to grab 'lunch'"? You'd be proud to know that I never replied to those.

Back to the present. What I can derive from a few photos is that now they all have steady girlfriends. (incredibly hot girls, dammit) I am already deriving morning sickness from happy couple photos in the sun, wall posts addressing each other as 'baby', 'honey,' 'cupcakes' and most the most sickening of all, 'I love you.'

I am bitter because I never had those. And I can't help but to be affected by them. In the bout of dissecting what went wrong, I would have blamed it primarily on my looks. If I was more beautiful, many things would have worked out. If I looked fit, they wouldnt have left because they would have been proud to be seen with me. And stayed.

It is a shallow conclusion, but that is also the easiest conception in compliance with a shallow world. I hate to feel sorry for myself but yet I am pretty much incapable of blaming others for their happiness.

Best thing is to move on. Or delete the dreadful bunch from Facebook. Today I am in love with an amazing man whom I would love to spend the rest of my life with. Unlike the terrible junk I wasted my tears on, my sayang is so perfect.

However, I cannot help but to feel that he is alright with losing me the very next day. Just like the rest, he will move on with a more beautiful girl. He will be ok. But as for me I will cry myself to death, if I am even slightly lucky.

I know, its all about feeling sorry. But then again you must experience the scary depths of rejection to empathise with this.

Ok, I will stop the depressing crap for now. For those who follow ANTM's latest cycle on YouTube, ohhh myyy goodnesss this is so so so hilarious:



Basically these American contestants were based in Rome, and had to shoot a Covergirl TV Commercial in ITALIAN. Why I find it so horribly amusing is pretty much self explanatory..

WHAT THE HECK WERE THEY SAYING ??!?!?!

I almost fell off the chair

Heiress

Crooning on my STEREO: Big Girl (You Are Beautiful) by MIKA

Time and time again, remind me this
NO TEQUILA. NO MORE TEQUILA SHOTS. NO MORE!!!!!!
I pretty darn well know that it is DISGUSTING. But yet I still down some. And kill myself. I never learn.

Nice to be home and not worry about the laundry. But I miss my sayang and I can't wait till summer. You know, life is so good. I am so proud that I didn't sob on the plane. A way to resolving this is to consume excessive amounts of terrible champagne on board. So much that the cabin staff thought that I loved it and now I am stuck with an additional bottle to feed my fellow alcohol leaches.

It's been 6 days since we parted and I swear that I haven't shed a single tear. I am so strong. I am so brave. I am so strong. etc etc etc. As they say, "Non c'e istinto pari a quello del cuore". For now, life goes on and we will be closer very soon :)

Back to reality. Now I live life like my dear friend Edie (below) minus the drugs. So carefree, giggling more than ever and doing the bits and bobs of youth. Till May..... No work = FUN.

Monday stress? work traffic?? blehhh..... I am going out of town for a Spa day tommorrow... whooop whooooop!!

I have something to else to totally brag about:
THE WORLD'S BEST LASAGNA IS FRESH OUT OF THE OVEN!!!!!!

I MADE IT. EVERYBODY LOVEEEEEEEEED IT. HAPPY EASTER!!!!!!!

I stole the groundbreaking recipe from sayang who only makes the best. I am just a humble apprentice. Shhhh...

Past

Crooning on my STEREO: Oreminutisecondi by ALMAMEGRETTA

I can tell you one thing: There is something VERY SCARY about unearthing a person's past.



Again, I cannot tell you what it is. I will be an annoying twat for now.

Italy is okay. Theres not much sun, a bit chilly and I am getting very fat. The evil dish below has been wrecking my dreams.....



A nice pork katsu curry :)

FREEDOMMMM

Crooning on my STEREO: Les Matins de Paris by TEKI LATEX

"Freedom" is/ (or was?) a brand for sanitary napkins. It was a lame connotation I pissed about during my Sayfolian high school days, at the time when Robbie Williams had just gone solo and made a hit out of George Michael's expired record. I vaguely recall the music video as this; Robbie was skipping about in a stream clad in denims while manicly declaring "FREEDOOOMMMM" similar to that of a deranged preacher.

Strangely, I feel that way. It is somewhat liberating that you are not committed to contracts, which profoundly states why I haven't tied myself down by buying a fancy car. I am so young and I can't stay put. But when I am ready to settle on one location, soon, I'd love to get one of these:-



This is, oh, so cute. It was love at first sight when I saw this in Paris 10 years ago. It is so annoyingly girly, perfect for bad reverse parkers and a great European city car. I am wishful thinking that this might work in KL a little, but it is certainly not hazard proof from trucks that constantly flip over on our roads.

Secondly, I tendered my resignation a month ago and I can now enjoy a well deserved two month break. I will miss my favourite colleagues. They are the loveable bunch of attractive girls, whom I refer to as my "career sisters" and I appreciate their tolerance over my rubbish the past year or so.



Trust me, they are the ones who work your American programmes on TV. The great ones. Thank them. We worked hard, you know?

So nice to be on break. I can finally go ice skating with the kids tommorrow and show them whats left of my rusty limbs. I can drink coffee and read tabloids at Starbucks till kingdom come. I can conquer the empty pool on weekdays.

Thank You, F.A.B.U.L.O.S.I.T.Y

Bring on the TIKUS

Crooning on my STEREO: Overpowered by ROISIN MURPHY

Formalities First.

HAPPY LUNAR NEW YEAR!!!

followed by those manic greetings on wealth, prosperity, climbing up the career ladder by licking your bosses' balls, etc. Why couldn't anyone have wished me ample luck on striking the lottery aka. El Gordo???

Chinese New Year is always about money and bracing idiots. Speaking of bling, I think KIMORA LEE is nuts but oh so hot. I am totally into her preachings on fabulosity. I have decided to be tacky and fabulous from now on.



I KNOW I have been keeping quiet and I KNOW that's becoming quite annoying. You may even notice that I have posted some vague directions and odd implications in all my previous entries the last couple of months. So much for beating around the bush. Rest assured that this is only a temporary phase and I will return to that lightweight blogger I used to be before I annoy myself any further.

There is a reason for this: I cannot tell you what fabulous stuffs I will do until there is a full degree of certainty. I am such a big-ass perfectionist hence I am not into half boiled statments of glory (which reminds me of a certain idiot). It's only for this little aspect that I am sorry I cannot be upfront with you for now. My Facebook incriminates alot so you might as well check it there.

Then there are a few people who shouldn't know either. Despite how much these 1 or 2 people claim to despise me, its pretty odd how they still read my blog on a very regular basis.

Jumping back to my ideals of fabulosity: I resigned from my decent job (finally!!) and I am going back to my sayang in 2 weeks.

OMG I can't wait. My dear rats, this is indeed LIFE IN THE FAB LANE!!

Penance

Crooning on my STEREO: Nobody Knows by TONY RICH PROJECT

I can't quite believe it either, my plans kinda backfired.


OH MY GOD!!!! S.O.S!!!!!!!

Risks and uncertainties lie ahead. How do you overcome them?

Speed Up Time

Crooning on my STEREO: L'ultima Risposta by SUBSONICA

Happy New Year Peeps
But I aint got time to write a long ass post, so let's keep this short and sweet in point form.

1. This 2008 opening entry is posted up courtesy of KY.

2. I am back from Japan and OMG it rocks.



WTF I grew a BUN face, blehhh.

3. This time next month, I am gonna get red packets.

4. I am cutting down on Black Label to stash on something pretty cool.

5. My life is improving by the day. Thank God!!!
-----------------

Again, I can't say anything more. I wish I can but hell I can't.

That's it for now.

TaTa

Seasons Greetings

Crooning on my STEREO: Gabriel by LAMB

I am glad that 2007 is almost out of the way. It's been a terrible year, but of course it is also obligatory to admit that things could have been worse. So I should be grateful, and I must deceive myself into thinking 'OH MY GOD WHAT A WONDERFUL YEAR' when in actual fact I have been crying for almost every night since January 1st 2007 till 22nd December 2007.

You know, that "wonderful" exclamation is just, so, fake.

Friends came and went. Which never bothered me because I've learnt that either some people are born a certain way or I somehow instigate the evil in them. I don't know which is worse. I meet good and bad people every year. But I've also met good people who have turned bad, which is rather fascinating to watch.

Nicole Richie made one wise comment, something that went along the lines of 'deleting' friends who piss you off. Consequently I took heed and offloaded potential tumours off my bandwagon. At the end of the day the ones who stay are those who do not intrude, but cared from a distance. Hence these are the people who remain in my phonebook.

Then there's love. This year I've learnt so much about love. I fell in love for the first time.

I've learnt a painful lesson on how pointing a gun will never make a man love you. You know, I am one of those girls who get bouts of rejection from one man to another. I have a boyfriend who doesn't quite want me as his girlfriend. He doesn't even know if he loves me. So how do I deal with this?

You are right. Proud girls tell me that I have no dignity. It is easy for them to say. If only you lot would have a single inkling of how bad it is to drag a corpse a few times around a block. Well I had a choice, I could leave it behind to decay naturally. But low self esteem girls like me would rummage through whats left and hope against hope that something beautiful will grow out of it. It's a fairy tale notion but when you have nowhere to run to, this is all you've got to hope.

There is always home. Amidst the emotional trauma I experienced this year, I will always be thankful that there's dinner on my table and a roof over my head. Its a bit like a version of The Ugly Duckling, after the poor duck has faced several hurtful discriminations over his apperance (difference as ugliness rather).. it eventually found happiness when he reunites with his mother and his siblings. It wont be long till he grows into a beautiful swan.


This is not about self pity. You must remember that there could always be some love in the midst of adversities.

My friends, as 2007 draws to a close, here's to extend my very best wishes to every one of you:

MERRY CHRISTMAS AND HAVE A BLESSED NEW YEAR

2008 will be better. I will leave for Japan in a few hours time, and I want to come back a happier person.

Hope

Crooning on my STEREO: Shine by TAKE THAT

Rather strangely,

I am glad that I stayed on to make my 3rd trip to Cannes, only to discover that when someone closes the door on you,




another one opens.

Somewhere Out There

Crooning on my STEREO: Miss Me by BOB SINCLAR

Love is a very sad thing. Be it family. Or friends. Or relationships. Be it religion. The more you love, the more you are made vulnerable to pain. It is true. Will you deny this? Will you ever deny having loved someone and never felt the grief of losing him or her? Or are you one of those who refuses to love, in the fear of having your heart broken in return? Have you ever lost your dog to cancer?

For once, I understood why loving a man can be so painful. It sometimes makes me unafraid of death.

But what do you do when your love is unrequited? Or when you are fading gradually from your lover's life? And when he stops saying 'I Love You'? When you feel that you both no longer share the same dreams? When he fails to understand why you would ever cry for him? When he stops believing in hope?

You do wish that he would prove your friends wrong. You do wish that one day, he would look you in the eye and say, "I will do anything for you". You do wish that, you could lead a normal life together with him, and do things that couples would normally do. You do wish that you could wake beside him every day and never have to be an ocean's apart again.

You do wish that, nothing stood in the way for you both to be together.

And that, one day, he will believe the same.



If only he loves you. If only.

Alcohol. Part 2.

Crooning on my STEREO: Tonight The Streets are Ours by RICHARD HAWLEY

We tend to take the piss out of Pete Doherty for his nasty doping antics, but little do we know that addiction is almost unrepressable. I've gone through that with Sebastien from Il Divo, hence I am familiar with the transition of obssession to addiction. If you are not careful, it can also turn you into a full time stalker...

In other words, it takes a mind of a bull to beat addiction.

No I ain't taking drugs. I am too poor for that. But I do take alcohol. But I guess they are both equally as bad anyway. The wonderful thing is that the latter is socially more condusive and accessible at large. I know for a fact that I bond better with people if I have a glass in hand. Even if I hate your guts, I could still choke up "oh my god you are a friendddd" for diplomacy's sake.

Thats why I strongly feel that theatre should encourage alcohol consumption before rehearsals and performances. Since actors are a crazy lot, they should feed on that notion to bring out the inevitable.

I think alcohol is good for relationships. It helps you to discount cons. Consequently you don't drive yourself insane because you are not sensitive nor conscious enough to make sense of human imperfections. There is less trouble when you are ignorant. Believe me.

Alcohol is also good for the office. It dilutes your stress by blinding you from the horrifying reality of your workload. If consumed in moderation, the workplace will be a happier place. It can certainly numb you from hyena-esque giggles from a juvenile colleague who has been baking muffins and puffins for your boss.

But of course, alcohol can also bring out the monster in you. If you are one of those who turn aggressive after 2 shots, you can take this opportunity to trash it out with an annoying client. Such aggression could get you deals faster than you digest. Or it can scare people away. Which is also probably a good thing.

Don't take me too literally though. Please be mindful of hangovers, broken heels, date rape, fountains of puke and other forms of induced ugliness that only you can imagine. Use your brains and becareful. Have some mercy on your poor liver.

My dear friends, I have been meaning to impart this wisdom since 4 years back. I was just never sober enough to write this.

HAVE FUN UNTIL YOU ARE SICK OF IT.


Speaking of which, I second that marijuana should be made legal. Do it like they do in Amsterdam.

Dusk

Crooning on my STEREO: What I Want (Fireball) by BOB SINCLAR

On my way home from Singapore yesterday, I enjoyed a pretty sunset.



Uninterrupted spectacle lasted for 5 minutes before a 10ft tall transnasional bus decided to roadhog. Malaysian traffic, damn it. Chuck out those pullman(s).

Singapore is wicked for several reasons; it is the closest country to us, yet it offers a different world of opportunities. Where in KL can you find a music store that will make you weep with such an extensive collection of Nouvelle Vague CDs? Or mainstream Bob Sinclar for that matter? When it comes to travel books, Borders Singapore can ram Kinokuniya KL hands down with a single shaft.

This pretty much explains my frequent, impromptu shopping tours down south. I usually come back poor but more hopeful. Even the recruitment section in Singaporean newsies propagates that every poor jobseeker will have a home in the workforce regardless of race and political connections. Whatever silly job that you desire, it is there. You just have to read the papers and apply.

Despite our patriotism for our recent National Day, I hate to say that the same range of opportunities is absent here. In Malaysia, 80% of job vacancies are never advertised. If you are a fresh graduate who'd like work in our TV-Film-Media- Distribution market, it is virtually impossible to enter this region unless you have a charitable friend like me who is always on the search for replacements so that I can leave my job. On the contrary, this position is advertised so extensively in the Lion City.

Plus, Singaporean employers actually LOOK at your degrees.

I don't want to sound anti-Malaisie, hence I will dig out its neighbour's downside; every young Singaporean chick has gorgeous legs. And that makes me feel highly inferior and I want to lock myself at home.

Workwise, I am trying to decide on my future. I am certainly NOT an ass-licker, and I need to feel appreciated for my strengths to inspire the extraordinary.

But my stream of thoughts tend to stray because I am simply spoilt by too many choices. I just have to focus on one and stick by it till world's end.

I just need to kill time, really. For now.

Battered Skates

Crooning on my STEREO: 4 In The Morning by GWEN STEFANI

Figure skating is a bloody good sport; it tones your butt, it doesn't make you sweat like a pig and it puts your friends in awe of you. It is hardly dangerous (except when you FALL and another skater happens to skid through your fingers), it is socially condusive (chances is that you wont meet pervs within the ice area) and it trains you to be empathetic. (ie, feel sorry for the poor souls who stumble around you.)

I was once a figure skater during medieval times. Before you choke on your coffee, I am reminiscing approximately 7 years ago when I used to camp around different ice rinks and lugged my 5kg ice skates to various countries abroad. To prove it:- here's a stale photo I took on the frozen lake in front of Hampton Palace.

My supremity on the ice meant that I ended up giving free twirling lessons to fellow stumbling skaters. The kids worshipped me and the chavs fancied me. Glory.

I admit, if I had lived in the United States and began ice training when I was three, I would've made it to Salt Lake by last year. I would have participated in the Winter Olympics. I would have a hotter bod.

But of course, my existence was destined for another mundane purpose. Oh well...

I was at a competitve stage before I retired from this sport. 7 years ago, I was training religiously at the Nottingham Ice Arena. I was preparing for an exam where I have to compete against 12 year old pre-teen rival. (yes, I know: skaters are getting younger.) I had come to a level where I could jump effortlessly and spin without throwing up gas.

One fine day, I discovered binge drinking. I discovered clubbing. I found greater solace in getting myself highly intoxicated at parties than locking myself up in a refrigerator. Thats when I stopped turning up at ice trainings. And I did not renew my lessons. And I got fat, which obviously had its lasting impression on me.

My ice skates lay battered til today. I had ferried them from London, Spain and now, back home. And I hadn't put them on since Nottingham. If I were to stick my feet back in, I wouldn't remember the professional basics of lacing them up properly.


I used to think that my ice skates were so pretty. I even had my name engraved on them, and I even personalised my ice shields with different colours.

But why had I abandoned them so suddenly? Why can't the same kind of love be rekindled after its loss? I don't know if I will bring them with me when I move abroad next year.

My life is a slippery skating vacation; I have been so lucky not to have my fingers sliced up by the oncoming skaters.

Sunday Morning

Crooning on my STEREO: Domo Mia by TAZENDA ft. EROS RAMAZZOTTI

This is indeed an unusual Sunday morning for me. I am awake at 10a.m, still in my PJs and dragon breath. No hangover. No miserly hole in my pocket. I sprained my back.

Or rather, I didn't quite go out the night before. I only had ONE drink at a friend's place where I mourned about how 75% of my friends are plastic fishes and how they should all be kept in an aquarium. This is a very depressing metaphor; a truth which I somehow always knew, but I never had the guts to press 'delete' on my social keyboard. You can have 500 friends on Facebook but only 5 would even care to know where your house is.

Consequently I dreamt of Giorgio Armani who urged me to buy a pair of sandals off him. His words of advice were, "start kicking pests out of your life." My thoughts were, " I will kick YOU for burning a hole in my wallet."

Just like any underpaid employee, I have financial issues. Eventhough I am so assured that 2008 is going to be a turnaround year, I still have 4 more months to plod through 2007. So its a matter of killing time and earning interest in my bank account.

Financial and social issues are the least of my concerns. The love issue is pivotal, and my life is more or less gauged by its strength. I watched Un Viaggio Chiamato Amore and I saw my personal fears rolled out before me.

Yeah, I worry.

I relate to Dino Campana's manic disillusion of love. And I also acquaint my great grief in Sibilla Aleramo's unrequited passion. The freaky bit is that the two characters constitute me, but perhaps, not my lover.

In any case that you are wondering, they are both great poets. In love.

I am trying to get hold of a copy of Orphic Songs, which will give us a breathtaking translation of Dino's poem below:-

In un momento
Sono sfiorite le rose
I petali caduti
Perché io non potevo dimenticare le rose
Le cercavamo insieme
Abbiamo trovato delle rose
Erano le sue rose erano le mie rose
Questo viaggio chiamavamo amore
Col nostro sangue e colle nostre lagrime facevamo le rose
Che brillavano un momento al sole del mattino
Le abbiamo sfiorite sotto il sole tra i rovi
Le rose che non erano le nostre rose
Le mie rose le sue rose

P.S. E così dimenticammo le rose.

Grief turns one into insanity. Madness turns one into a genius. I can only cry at the sight of these eternal words. And how it aptly describes my current crossroads; I really cannot handle love.

And I am sure that this is the same for many of us.

Okay, on a lighter note. Just when I thought that my acting career was on the decline, I found this pirate DVD.

Sorry about the boobies. Its an art film, y'see?

You may remember that I worked as a film extra in London 3 years back. (Oh, how i miss those days of lunching in trailers with other fascinating stars-to-be. During this shoot, I even fancied the casting assistant...)

Back to my self-indulgent point, the kind director DID NOT remove my cameo, so try and spot me !!! (eventhough i resemble a downtrodden Chinese immigrant. Don't worry, I am not naked.)

Oh, this feature is going on the big screens in Europe, Singapore and other liberal Asian countries.

And hey, this is not porn.

Stupido.

Crooning on my STEREO: King of the Bongo by ROBBIE WILLIAMS

You are Zeus. You have followers. They desire to live in the countries you have lived in. Travel to places where you have been to. Envy your belongings. Stalk your footsteps.

They aspire to be just like you. Or better than you.

My friends, I call those pagans who reside beneath your toes: worshippers.

I have very little respect for worshippers.

Then there is Venus. Goddess of self-perceived beauty aka. 'perasan-ness'. Women who would utilise the spineless nature of mortal men for their own gains. Women who would perceive themselves as a femme fatale, are actually those who are blinded by their own beauty. (inaccurately reflected by their warped Ikea-endorsed mirrors.)

Last week, I saw a very fine example of Venus which made me puke.

Not the razor, I mean.

My point is, you people make me laugh.

Yes, I have many kickass adventures. And I share them. What freaks me out so much is that I have inspired a number of naive fools to run away from home.

I am responsible for the dumb people I know who are flocking to illegal jobs in ulu areas of Spain. I am also responsible for a handful who are leaving their families behind to flock to Europe in search for eligible bachelors.

You guys are dumb, or what? You don't even speak the language. What do you know of their culture? And Europe has the same ratio of bad male species as anywhere else in the world. Stop dreaming, you cows.

Living is different from holidaying. Get Real. Stop running away.

Kids.

SUMMER

Crooning on my STEREO: Too Drunk To Fuck by NOUVELLE VAGUE



I ADORE SUMMER(s). It is the time of the year when everybody gets less pissy, less inhibited and more accomodating. The youths party. The adults picnic. The dogs play. The birds sing. The children annoy.

Sunburnt whales invade the beaches. Bikini anorexics exhibit their silicon cleavages. If you have lived in the Great Britain, you will marvel at the slightest indication of summer's coming.

Ahh.... those were my days of liberty: Skipping around Regents Park in discounted New Look summer dresses and H&M flip flops. Long live, London.

Okay. I am back in Kuala Lumpur. I love it here. But it is a little painful adjusting to a weather-less climate. To my fellow foreign friends:- I have said this many times, DO NOT BE DECEIVED BY THE POSTCARDS. BLUE SKIES DO NOT EXIST IN THIS CITY.

The sun, well, is something that the locals avoid. And if they see you basking in the sun in your little strapless dress, they'd laugh at your foolish obssession.

And there is no such thing as the monsoon season because we have been plagued by thunderstorms almost every other day.
Hence, you do not have to plan your holiday here on specific periods of the year - since we're gonna have sucky weather all year round anyway.

Truth is, my best summers were spent abroad. Minus those numerous drunkfests and decadent student summers, my happiest will always be Summer 2003; the year when I got out of uni and flew to Vienna to meet my family. We then embarked on a month long holiday through Austria and Switzerland via the Glacier Express.



I saw somethings so sublime that I was ready to die in the mountains. No, it wasn't a yoddler.

Back to the distasteful present. I took a day off last week as a partial-recuperation from Champion's League, followed by an impromptu doc's visit over a suspicious tumour in my body. As I did my first ultrasound, I thought," Damn, I have had so many wicked summers.... if luck is a bitch I could be spending mine in a WARD this year."

No. No. Of course Not. Damn You.

So I planned my summer vacations asap. I am going to the beach. I am going home in August. And I will be spending more time on real charity. Together with a loved one, we have even charted optimistic plans for the next 12 months.

Well, value your life. On top of that, you should also stop listening to stupid things that stupid people say to you. A smart alec once looked at my palm and said, 'Oh, hun... I hate to tell you this, but you are going to have a difficult life.'

My life actually got very good after that.

I Don't Want To Sleep Alone

Crooning on my STEREO: A Ballad For My Little Hyena by AFTERHOURS

We all have issues with trust. You don't trust your postman. You think your husband is cheating on you. You suspect that your son is oogling porn sites on the internet. You think your cat may eat your fish. You don't like Bush. You don't trust Alam Flora collecting your garbage on time.

You see, I have always been a fiercely loyal person. I live by a kindergarten formula: Be nice to me, and I will be very nice to you. And it takes a very simple betrayal to break that pact.

If you stab me with a blade, I will slash you with a scythe.

In fact, this is a bargain; you give me some and I will give you MORE. Faham?

Of course, life is not as anal as it seems. This scene from Bali has taught me about the beauty of co-existence.


Woman sleeping beside python.
(And I can testify that both woman and snake are very much alive.)

Salvation does exist in this world. If a reptile is able base its trust on Man, they share a mutual understanding that one will not harm the other.
This illustrates that trust transcends words. It is simply built on instinct.
If I am able to bring myself to sleep beside you, I wouldn't expect you to strangulate me in my sleep.

Speaking of such, I am not encouraging you to sleep with your enemy.

Building a comfortable level of trust between two parties is never instantenous. It takes an awful amount of time. Years. Or even decades.

Sometimes, you simply can't bring yourself to trust a particular person.

We all have our fair share of disappointments. There was a girl I knew who constantly whined/ exaggerated on the cruelty of the people around her, and how she is unable to progress in her life as a consequence.

All I could say to her was, no matter how many bastards and bitches we encounter in our lifetime, we just have to move on.

Life is a domesticated bat. You were once wild, but you were held captive.
And in order to survive, you have to trust your captors.



Off tangent, you may even have to fight for your right to co-exist with another being.
I call this: the passionate pain of love and hate.

Odio ed amore.

And I am fighting it. Because I love him.

Success

Crooning on my STEREO: La Vita Non E' Un Film by ARTICOLO 31

A friend defined success by the following conditions:-

1) Achieve a 5 figure monthly salary by the time you are 25. (Not neccessarily in RM)
2) Work in a multinational company abroad.
3) Date/ Marry a trophy caucasian.
4) Own a vehicle in the league of a mini cooper.
5) Disowning your mothertongue in favour of the West.
6) Travelling to glamorous locations every month.
7) Having a legion of rich, decorative but dumb friends.

As you can tell, I have many dumb friends who try to impart their wisdom onto me. Que pena.

On the contrary I define success as the following:-

1) Being humble with a badass job that will toughen you for the future.
2) Coming home to a family who loves you in many strange ways.
3) Gathering the courage to leave an idyllic life behind in order to give your home country a second chance.
4) Being best buds with the postman.
5) Being able to speak Malay.
6) Not giving a damn about what other people do.

Last but not the least

7) Being IN LOVE.

Typically cheese, eh? I can assure you that you can love ANYTHING.

Bob Sinclar's LOVE GENERATION is a gem; a Perugian memorabilia which inspired me to hold my beer bottle up and propagate my love to everyone within sight. (of course, the word 'sleaze' should never apply).



But then again, you should never strive to love EVERYONE. There are multitudes of bastards and bitches out there whom you'd love to chuck them all into a ditch.

Problem is that there is no ditch big enough to accomodate their big asses.

Thus you could channel your lack of lovin' onto loving your Vincci pumps. Or your Doritos. Or your cocktails. Or your dog. Or your I- Pod. Or your brother. Or your secret longing to settle down in the Ukraine.

My point is: THERE ARE SO MANY STUFFS TO LOVE.

Unless you've just met with a deathly atrocity, don't you dare come wailing to me that you live an ardous life without love. The fact that you are whingeing nonsensically obviously shows that you carry more love onto yourself than the objects/people around you.

This, I call, SELF LOVE.

Believe it or not, love is infinite. I love my drinks. I love my CDs. I love the dysfunctional people around me. I love Fellini. I love my room. I love Saturdays. I love my tacky blonde highlights. I love foie gras. I love my Giovanni.

Despite all that PMS, I am actually a very successful 23 year old.

Sekian, terima kasih.