Moving On

Crooning on my STEREO: Crazy All The Time by 33HZ

Dear concerned friends and curious enemies,

LET'S TOAST TO THE 200th POST ON THIS BLOG!!!!

Only God knows how I have kept this crapology alive for so long.

It's like feeding a carrot to an elephant.

In conjunction with this celebration of stupid sorts, I am in the midst of contemplating some earth-shattering decisions. Please include me in your respective prayers and kindly alert your local bomoh as I will be in need of some blessings.


Fret not. The drinking will continue. The madness will continue.

And I will be packing my bags once again.




Yours, with courage.
Senorita Lyn xxxxx







"Se l'amore, nomade benedetto, e tuo ospite, tienilo caro."

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.

Questa Primavera

Crooning on my STEREO: Pledging My Love by JOHNNY ACE

During one of my carefree days in St. Petersburg, I taunted a generic statue of Cupid to his face. I said, "You are a selfish prick. How many more times do you intend to wank me?" The museum guards chased me out. Nah, kidding. Cupid gave me a Russo-passive smirk which insitgated my desire to hack his pretty face. No, no. I have to give credit to anger management.

Fast forward a few months. And if you may recall, I wrote an extremely emo post sometime back in December 2006. And yes, I displayed my vulnerability. And I exploded my sob story to the world that all the men I was involved with were either pissers, bastards or the type of assholes that are featured in Cleo's Annual Eligible Bastards.

Well, Cupid's wanking came to a halt. Through an intense chapter of meeting a significant other, I have found strength in life through love.



Love is a strong entity. And unconditional. My mother once told me that a long distance relationship is a test of maturity. The test is even greater when he is, let's say, your first love.

This Spring is one of the most beautiful. After a series of exhaustive work travels to Bangkok and Cannes in the past few weeks, I detoured and returned to Perugia. My incentive came in the form of four days.

And I found myself attempting to freeze time.

The whole process became sublimely sad, but devastatingly beautiful. I recall leaving Nice with a schoolgirl's grin, to sharing a kiss with him on opposite walkalators in Fiumicino. Then there was the train ride where he pointed out Cinecitta to me; a place that is incredibly close to my heart and dreams.

From then on, everything was perfect. It was so perfect.

But, like your typical Korean soap, a happy duo had to part. That dreadful feeling is familiar, i was overwhelmed by the same fleet of thoughts as the time when I had to leave home for a few semi-unproductive years in Britain.

I miss him. I miss being with him. I never knew that Nuotando Nell'aria can be the song that can shatter my fragile soul. Reason being; he had whispered the lyrics into my ears the night before I left.


Cupid has thrown me into an Orpheus-inspired labyrinth of questions. Why am I stressing over the pending deal of a nonsensical TV programme? Who gives a damn if your fax had not reached your supplier in time? Why do you even bother with friends who backstab and those leaches who lick the arses of society?

I took some time off in Bali. Everything was nice. But I longed to smile the way I did when I was with him a few weeks ago.



But life has always been good to me.

Generic Girl Talk

Crooning on my STEREO: Kiss Me by CANARY

I am back from slogging in Bangkok. A friend and I were discussing the touchy issue of toxic friends and we compared notes on some generic whining sessions that we had to endure from girlfriends.

Of course, girl emo sessions can be forgiven as mere PMS attacks.

But when it becomes a HABIT, boy, we have to jump the bridge.

Read on and tell me if this sounds familiar to you:-


Girl: I am so depressed.

Me: Why?

Girl: I am so ugly.

Me: But you are fine. Why do you say this?
Me thinks: I hate to sing unnecessary praises at unnecessary times. But when you have a sobbing friend on the other line, this should be the most appropriate thing to say to stop her from downing Baygon.

Girl: Nobody likes me.....

Me: Oh no no... dont say that...
Me thinks: I have just been insulted.
Translate: SHE IS SAYING THAT YOU DONT LOVE HER. SHE IS TELLING YOU THAT THE WORLD, including your baby brother, IS PLOTTING EVIL AGAINST HER.
To put this into perspective, why does a sobbing fool have to call you if she knows that you wont give two hoots about her sorrows?

Girl: You know, no boys will ever like me. Because I am UGLY. Nobody ever looks at me. I will never have a boyfriend ...etc etc...

Me: Thats not true... you will never die a spinster.
Me thinks: Lord help me. Why do you chicks delude yourselves into thinking that life is all about finding a dude?

Girl: I don't know why boys do not like me...

Me: Ermmmmm
Me thinks: Well, you know the answer. You just said that YOU ARE UGLY;

Girl: I mean, you will never understand.... you have a guy and all. And I have nobody....

Me: Yeah, of course I know that I am fortunate.
Me thinks: Of course I don't understand you. If a shitfaced bitch like me has done good for myself, any specie without a dick can do the same. Woman, stop whining and just put in some effort.

Girl: But the guys here are useless. They will never appreciate me...

Me: Maybe it is in their culture... some sort of trend going for anorexic pan-asian chicks...
Me thinks: No matter how hideous you are, it is highly easy to get a caucasian fling if you are not choosy. You know those balding men at Beach club? Or head to an obscure town in Greece and the local boys will drool over your exotic-ness.

Malaysian dudes aren't so bad. Yes, there is the shallow bastardy 70% lot. But there is also the humble lot. Give them a chance. The ones who avoid you are the ones who probably sensed your desperation. They are not stupid, y'know.

Girl: Sigh.. I don't know anymore...

Me: Just rest and you will be okay.
Me thinks: You have nothing more to whine about. So shut up. And this will give me a break from being overly condescending.

THE MORAL OF THE STORY:

STOP COMPLAINING. BE THANKFUL THAT YOU ARE NOT DEFORMED.

Jeez.

MARCH PMS

Crooning on my STEREO: Splendido Splendente by RETTORE

Five things to BLOW UP on:-

1) I've got YELLOW TEETH .
Yes, it is due to the excessive tea drinking.

2) I do not have ample strength to clear my SMS(es) within a week.
There is not enough of memory space on my cranky phone.

3) My skin is morphing into a mouldy chocolate shade.
There's not enough of sun in this country.

4) Arsenal and Liverpool.
I'd rather have Crouch kick my ass than Christina.

5) F1 - Who on earth is Hamilton?!??!
Y'see, I had a lovelorn history with Mclaren. Until Hakkinen eloped. And Kimi stabbed us in the back.

I need RED BULL.

The Silk Road and Genghis Khan.

Crooning on my STEREO: Bellezza by MARLENE KUNTZ

While I was penning my 4th feature script, my brainstorming sessions revealed a serious defect in plot setting. There was a marvellous storyline, coupled with extraordinary characters and kickass sketch edits, but I sensed a certain void in empathising with the story's surroundings.

Hence I never completed that particular screenplay. And hence I never received my Oscar.

Like any other wannabe, I was ambitious. I chose to narrate my emo- fiction along the very long Silk Road and its surroundings. If you have absolutely no idea what this legendary route entails, have a good look at the map below:-



I know, it will take me decades to walk it. And probably a century to write a book on it.

Silk Road is an unexploited region that intrigues me. When self proclaimed travellers tell me that they've seen the world after flocking to Western Europe, I am then reminded of a certain inbred stupidity that resides in yuppies nowadays. Before I puke, I will stop bitching for now.

Central Asia is an entirely different world. Trust me.

The inhabitants of these regions are generally better looking. And since my boyfriend dated one of them, I have developed a compulsive complex aka. perception that everybody there is ultra-hot and attractive.

You begin your journey in Vietnam. Then you enter CHINA. My great motherland. Great Gran Daddy apparently had a castle and a pretty jet there until they were snatched away by the communists. Such idiots, I know. We even went searching for it when we went to Beijing last year.

Beijing does not do China justice. The Great Wall does. And the picture below also does.


I guess you would then have to venture beyond the Great Wall to see Greater China. Rent a camel that would take you cross-country. And do it like Che Guevara alla. Motorcycle Diaries.

Our trans-asian adventure should be dubbed: The Camel Diaries.

Along the way, one should pay homage to the great and mighty GENGHIS KHAN. The warrior dude who came and conquered. The hero who invaded extensive amount of lands with the same ease as Pac-Man. With this in mind, MONGOLIA is another must-see. (Although it might be easier to detour with the Trans-Siberian route. I will explain that in a separate post.)



My dad used to bull me with a story that we are the descendants of some barbaric tribe of Inner Mongolia. Probably explains why I have inherited such ape-hair genes.

So you keep riding on your camel until you reach Uzbekistan. If you are naively hoping for some sort of Borat adventure, then you can drop by in Kazakhstan. If you are penniless at this point and your camel has passed out, then I suggest that you halt your journey before you reach the borders of Afghanistan.

Recently I dug up remnants of my abandoned script. I thought to myself that if I am to complete this masterpiece once and for all, a lifetime journey to all the said places MUST be made within the next 3 years.

Not necessarily with a camel, though.

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.

Eclipse

Crooning on my STEREO: Grace Kelly by MIKA



A bugger once told me that moon eclipses have the rather strange ability to instigate a turn in events. Shortly after, another medieval prone bugger proclaimed that the most recent eclipse on March 3rd is nothing but a bad omen.

Well, there was an earthquake.

And I shall abstain from whining on the unneccesary loss of lives.
After all, there are so many unnecessary people walking the Earth as we speak.

Speaking of the unnecessary. I had an unnecessary migraine at work which took me to the rather unpleasant company GP.

Historically, this doctor has refused my numerous pleas for a medical certificate (MC) to take the day off work.

I know. It's my ah-lian bleached hair. Hence she tends to accuse me of cry wolf.

The last time I was plagued by a flu symptom, she promptly dismissed my pain claims as a mere hangover. Thus she refused to produce an MC to release my ailing body from work.

As a result of her negligence, I was hospitalised the following day due to a chronic tonsilitis.

Such a bitch, right? I could have sued her pants off.
But because I am such a godforsaken saint, I sparingly watched the injustice pass me by.
Karma, you better note my samaritan deeds, dingbat.

Last week, I had a dumbass PMS migraine that had me ending up in her clinic once again.

Me: Hi Doc, I am not feeling well.

Doc: (shuffling through a pile of stale notes) Okay, how do you feel?

Me:(groping my head to exaggerate the adversity) A sharp pain across my skull.

Doc: (gives me the standard 'I-know- you've- been -drinking' look) Okay...

Me: And I haven't been drinking. I never drink. (Part- Lie)

Doc: (scribbles a couple of hyroglyphic mess onto a stale card) Okay...

Me: So?

Doc: When was the last time you had your period?

Me: Early last month.

Doc: Regular?

Me: As regular as fries. Possibly a little late this month cos a few asses have been pissing the crap out of me.

Doc: (Looks at me. Attentively. For once.) Are you PREGNANT?

Me: W H A T ?
(turns into a dead fish. followed by a sudden urge to puke.)

Doc: (puts on a well rehearsed look of concern. Followed by the million dollar question..)
When was the last time you had sex?

Me: Heh?

(Pauses. Awkward Silence. )

Me: Hah?

(Thinks)

Me: (Breaks into a moronic manic giggle.) Doc, It's IMPOSSIBLE.

NO WAY.

HAHAHAHAH

NO WAY

VAFUNNNNNNCULO.


And I scored my very first MC after that.

Generosity

Crooning on my STEREO: Tu Sei by VITTORIO

It takes a thousand good deeds and a thousand betrayals to realise that generosity is a lame virtue. Let me tell you why you ought to be selfish on a selective basis:

First of all, karma is a jealous whore. You could feed a beggar today. And joke about your neighbour tomorrow. Karma tends to retribute the latter with a rather mysterious adversity... or let's say, you are accused of stealing in a supermarket when, in actual fact, a roll of chewing gum had accidentaly fallen into your handbag.

The same applies to your secret desire to have Manyoo defeated tonight, but you find a hideous scratch on your car the next day.

Secondly, you could be one of those fortunate souls feeding an endless stream of leaches out of sheer good will. You think you are doing the world an enourmous good deed. Thus you keep feeding. It can go on for a year. Or a decade. And after all that hoolaballoo, you realise that YOU have not been fed.

The painful truth is, you will never be given pension broth by your leachy benefactors. Screw the saying that you should always help a friend in need. You should help a true soul in need.

And thirdly, you are too dumb to pinpont any of the above.

2007 has been a bitch because I am reaping the fruits of my generosity. As I witness those gleaming smiles unfold before my eyes, I ought to be happy.

Let's be honest, I am not. And thats because I allow myself to be emotionally gagged, beaten and milked by an ungrateful lot to get you where you are today. I wont use the term 'rape' because all these were done in my charitable consent.

I possess accurate intuitions. I chose to ignore warnings because I believed in second chances. And boy, what punishable mistakes I've made.

So many that I could compile them into an encyclopaedia. Such are the products of my stupidity.

Crap is, you have to confront many unpleasant truths as you age. It's like my delusion as to how France could have possibly defeated Spain in the World Cup.

WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD

You cannot perform damage control in such situations. You can wail and cry until kingdom come but you can also choose to move on. To the rare few who are born with a good heart: only help those you love and not those whom you believe you can love. I think I've established my boundaries pretty blatantly.

Apart for those I love,

I AM GOING TO STOP FEEDING OTHER PEOPLE'S SUCCESS.

Thus I will start feeding my own.



For a change. :)

If you are getting the jitters from reading this particular post, well, then.. I've shot you point blank.