The night is as black as any other,
the same crickets in symphony out there on the grass patches
and sometimes toads will croak, in interjections.
Probably the same toads, as yesterday's
or the night before last.
Or perhaps a next generation of toads
and crickets.
I see the night through the small slit of open window,
the rest curtained, because I want to shut it out --
shut the night out. It is better to be hemmed in like this
than to let self be exposed.
I don't like that.
It is easier to deal with the night this way because the night
holds some memories --
memories that shouldn't have been memories.
And I wish I cannot hear the sound of your voice;
it is still ringing, you know, in my head, your accusatory tones.
And then the sound of the lift doors opening
and closing. The cold dust, the cold tiles, of the ground.
Oh yes, I still remember.
So I don't like to be reminded of the night.
Let me stay here
celebrating. In memoriam of
the part of self that died
that night.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
egg and chicken
do you love him because you need him? Or do you need him because you love him?
Perhaps it's like asking someone: which comes first -- the chicken or the egg? It is indeed a question worth pondering over.
Monday, October 19, 2009
what if
A long time ago, I used to write poems. Or I thought of them as poems anyway. Now, looking back, perhaps they were just a collection of words meant to convey feelings which I were not able to verbalize. I suppose some people may think of me as an articulate person but articulating my emotions have never been my forte. I prefer to pen them down or in this case, type them down.
It seems to me like a different person wrote those "poems." Frankly speaking, I don't think that person, exists in me anymore. Thus, I keep on having to borrow phrases from songs that are already on my ipod/itunes, in order to depict my present state of mind. I apologize for not being very original.
I think a more accurate depiction would be if the line was "wondering why you never change" instead. Otherwise, the part about spinning minds is completely accurate.
It seems to me like a different person wrote those "poems." Frankly speaking, I don't think that person, exists in me anymore. Thus, I keep on having to borrow phrases from songs that are already on my ipod/itunes, in order to depict my present state of mind. I apologize for not being very original.
Here I stand alone
With this weight upon my heart
And it will not go away
In my head I keep on looking back
Right back to the start
Wondering what it was that made you change
Well I tried
But I had to draw the line
And still this question keeps on spinning in my mind
I think a more accurate depiction would be if the line was "wondering why you never change" instead. Otherwise, the part about spinning minds is completely accurate.
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
maybe i just wanna have it all
Was marking papers while listening to my itunes and an old song started playing.
I've always wondered what the lyrics really meant.
there's a danger in loving somebody too much
And its sad when you know it's your heart you can't trust
There's a reason why people don't stay where they are
Baby sometimes love just ain't enough
I've always wondered what the lyrics really meant.
Monday, October 12, 2009
the calm before the storm
Three classes worth of exam papers are already in but I've yet to mark them. I only just submitted my last paper, which is due friday, this morning. I'm hoping to spend some time tonight to breathe abit but there's alot still to be done. Half of my to-do list will remain undone because I've given up marking holiday assignments. It's much too late to return them to students anyway.
And that's the life of an overworked teacher. So much for "reducing" our workload; most are still teaching five to six classes a week and since my school adopted the modular system for lower secondary school science, I practically see the whole sec 1 cohort plus my 4 other classes from other levels. That's ten classes worth of exam papers to mark this year. But of course, last year's twelve classes was a record. LOL.
Anyhow, I'm much calmer tonight. Was at my neighbours' house earlier, for hari raya visiting, with my mom. For a little while, as we chatted about general stuff (mostly pleasantries which are very mundane and insignificant), it seems like life is as easy as pie, as if no problem was insurmountable.
I am not nearly as angry as I was last week but it's not like everything's back to normal. I'm tired that things that shouldn't have happened just keep on happening over and over again and always regarding the same issues. Moreover, it just gets worse and worse. It will never end.
I guess I'm just a typical Sagittarian that way. I need my freedom but that doesn't mean I will wantonly disregard my responsibilities or obligations. But I'm never good with confrontations. So I do what I do best. I back out.
And that's the life of an overworked teacher. So much for "reducing" our workload; most are still teaching five to six classes a week and since my school adopted the modular system for lower secondary school science, I practically see the whole sec 1 cohort plus my 4 other classes from other levels. That's ten classes worth of exam papers to mark this year. But of course, last year's twelve classes was a record. LOL.
Anyhow, I'm much calmer tonight. Was at my neighbours' house earlier, for hari raya visiting, with my mom. For a little while, as we chatted about general stuff (mostly pleasantries which are very mundane and insignificant), it seems like life is as easy as pie, as if no problem was insurmountable.
I am not nearly as angry as I was last week but it's not like everything's back to normal. I'm tired that things that shouldn't have happened just keep on happening over and over again and always regarding the same issues. Moreover, it just gets worse and worse. It will never end.
I guess I'm just a typical Sagittarian that way. I need my freedom but that doesn't mean I will wantonly disregard my responsibilities or obligations. But I'm never good with confrontations. So I do what I do best. I back out.
Monday, October 5, 2009
hate
There are 4 people living in this flat, myself included. My brother occupies the room nearest to the living room. He is four years younger than me but I've long suspected that he's stuck at the mental age of seventeen.
His illness is probably to blame for this because he was diagnosed with lupus right after his 'O' level examinations. Back then, when most of his contemporaries were pulsing with life, bursting with raging hormones and excited at the prospect of tertiary education, my brother was fighting for his life in ICU. Being a lupus patient makes him susceptible to common illnesses which ordinary youths do not have to worry about. He is now working as a clerk somewhere (I'm not sure the exact location) and bringing back around 1k a month. About a quarter or a third of that goes into his monthly medical bills.
My sister's eldest daughter, now sixteen, shares the master bedroom with my mom. She hardly ever goes back to her mother's flat but nobody minds that because everyone thinks she is good company for my mom.
It's been nine years since my father passed away. The years have not been easy for mother; with each passing year, she has more grey hair, more wrinkles, more pains in her joints. And being the only person in this household with a "proper" job, it is my responsibility to look after her, my brother and my niece by default. Thus, this job, which I complain about constantly or whenever I have the opportunity to, is the ricebowl that feeds us all.
ANYone who comes in the way of my ricebowl -- who threatens it, who does not respect it, who puts it on the line and disregards it -- will be the object of my loathing. There are no second chances, no opportunities for remorse or regret.
From now on, I will spend all my waking hours, all my energies, despising you. Your neediness. Your dependence. Your very existence disgusts me now. You are an abomination. A blight upon my life and my happiness.
And now, you are nothing.
His illness is probably to blame for this because he was diagnosed with lupus right after his 'O' level examinations. Back then, when most of his contemporaries were pulsing with life, bursting with raging hormones and excited at the prospect of tertiary education, my brother was fighting for his life in ICU. Being a lupus patient makes him susceptible to common illnesses which ordinary youths do not have to worry about. He is now working as a clerk somewhere (I'm not sure the exact location) and bringing back around 1k a month. About a quarter or a third of that goes into his monthly medical bills.
My sister's eldest daughter, now sixteen, shares the master bedroom with my mom. She hardly ever goes back to her mother's flat but nobody minds that because everyone thinks she is good company for my mom.
It's been nine years since my father passed away. The years have not been easy for mother; with each passing year, she has more grey hair, more wrinkles, more pains in her joints. And being the only person in this household with a "proper" job, it is my responsibility to look after her, my brother and my niece by default. Thus, this job, which I complain about constantly or whenever I have the opportunity to, is the ricebowl that feeds us all.
ANYone who comes in the way of my ricebowl -- who threatens it, who does not respect it, who puts it on the line and disregards it -- will be the object of my loathing. There are no second chances, no opportunities for remorse or regret.
From now on, I will spend all my waking hours, all my energies, despising you. Your neediness. Your dependence. Your very existence disgusts me now. You are an abomination. A blight upon my life and my happiness.
And now, you are nothing.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
i couldn't stop crying
Something inside of me must have snapped. I couldn't stop crying.
After I closed the door of my room behind me, I stumbled to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. For some minutes before, I was able to keep everything in; took a deep breath, turned the key in the keyhole, turned the knob, pushed open the front door, bolted it, then crept to my room like a seasoned burglar -- lest my mother, who at times could be a light sleeper, hears me.
I fell asleep in that pathetic state. An hour passed. The sound of running water must have woken me. I undressed and took a shower. My mother's face peeked from behind her bedroom door.
"Baru balik?" There was no hint of frustration in her voice. Perhaps she sounded even a little bemused.
"Dah tadi," I replied. It was the only words I could muster.
It felt good -- the shower. To scrub off the sweat and grime from my skin. To take off my contacts. To let the water wash off the scent of you from my nose -- your cigarette-tainted breath. But the water couldn't let me forget what you did.
As I curled myself up in bed, I suddenly felt it again. The tears. Another round, but this time, I cried into my pillow.
What I feared the most have happened and YOU made sure it happened. It was inevitable. Your unreasonable jealousy, fueled and enhanced by alcohol, led us to this state, just like those other times before.
Oh but you've gone overboard this time. You've certainly outdone yourself this time. It doesn't matter to you does it? This isn't YOUR neighbourhood. Why should you care? All you care about is to have your wounded pride appeased. Your green eye had clouded your judgment, and now you seek the "truth" and my annoyance at your unfair accusations only achieves to worsen it.
Even now, hours later, with the mild afternoon sun outside my window, I don't think I can forgive you. I am afraid . And I am tired. So tired. I can feel my eyes smarting with tears again.
I cannot forgive. I will not.
After I closed the door of my room behind me, I stumbled to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. For some minutes before, I was able to keep everything in; took a deep breath, turned the key in the keyhole, turned the knob, pushed open the front door, bolted it, then crept to my room like a seasoned burglar -- lest my mother, who at times could be a light sleeper, hears me.
I fell asleep in that pathetic state. An hour passed. The sound of running water must have woken me. I undressed and took a shower. My mother's face peeked from behind her bedroom door.
"Baru balik?" There was no hint of frustration in her voice. Perhaps she sounded even a little bemused.
"Dah tadi," I replied. It was the only words I could muster.
It felt good -- the shower. To scrub off the sweat and grime from my skin. To take off my contacts. To let the water wash off the scent of you from my nose -- your cigarette-tainted breath. But the water couldn't let me forget what you did.
As I curled myself up in bed, I suddenly felt it again. The tears. Another round, but this time, I cried into my pillow.
What I feared the most have happened and YOU made sure it happened. It was inevitable. Your unreasonable jealousy, fueled and enhanced by alcohol, led us to this state, just like those other times before.
Oh but you've gone overboard this time. You've certainly outdone yourself this time. It doesn't matter to you does it? This isn't YOUR neighbourhood. Why should you care? All you care about is to have your wounded pride appeased. Your green eye had clouded your judgment, and now you seek the "truth" and my annoyance at your unfair accusations only achieves to worsen it.
Even now, hours later, with the mild afternoon sun outside my window, I don't think I can forgive you. I am afraid . And I am tired. So tired. I can feel my eyes smarting with tears again.
I cannot forgive. I will not.
Monday, May 18, 2009
hurt
Unfortunately, sometimes I am not as nonchalant as I appear to be. Take for instance an incident that happened in school late last week.
I don't care if some kids (i.e students) resent me to the extent that they would rant about me, call me offensive and derogatory names on their blogs and stuff, but it definitely hurts when they intentionally hack into another student's blog and do it anonymously. In fact, even if the latter was to happen, I wouldn't have minded it so much. But once other teachers get implicated too, and especially the P, VP, or anyone else of paramount importance to the school gets implicated, it becomes an issue which cannot be taken lightly.
I am sad that this matter has to be surfaced to the sch's dis com. It is easy to be indifferent when I am reading the disparaging comments about myself alone but it is even more difficult to remain objective and share those comments (now considered evidence that cannot be tampered with) with people you don't really feel comfortable talking to at all.
As an adult, I hardly feel the need to be liked and accepted by my students but it fills me with amazement and, more acutely, disappointment, to know that somewhere out there, there are malicious and vindictive individuals who want to hurt not only me, but those (students) under my care too.
**********************************
This is a very stressful period for all those in my vocation. It is the mid-year examinations! I have 10 ten stacks (i.e. classes) of markings to finish by thursday afternoon and I have only barely finished three stacks. Already, I can feel the rising panic within, as there are still loads of other admin stuff to do too. It does take alot of self-motivation to get myself going (because just to complete one class may take a good three to four hours, minimum, of diligent, non-stop marking), thus I had hoped that those whom I care about (and care about me) will understand the predicament I am facing and the mood-swings I may contract in the meantime.
However, I discovered something recently that caused my trust to waver. I want to be nonchalant, cold, and indifferent because if I were all of those things, then I would be incapable of being emotionally hurt. But at this point in time, I am not all of those things.
I don't care if some kids (i.e students) resent me to the extent that they would rant about me, call me offensive and derogatory names on their blogs and stuff, but it definitely hurts when they intentionally hack into another student's blog and do it anonymously. In fact, even if the latter was to happen, I wouldn't have minded it so much. But once other teachers get implicated too, and especially the P, VP, or anyone else of paramount importance to the school gets implicated, it becomes an issue which cannot be taken lightly.
I am sad that this matter has to be surfaced to the sch's dis com. It is easy to be indifferent when I am reading the disparaging comments about myself alone but it is even more difficult to remain objective and share those comments (now considered evidence that cannot be tampered with) with people you don't really feel comfortable talking to at all.
As an adult, I hardly feel the need to be liked and accepted by my students but it fills me with amazement and, more acutely, disappointment, to know that somewhere out there, there are malicious and vindictive individuals who want to hurt not only me, but those (students) under my care too.
This is a very stressful period for all those in my vocation. It is the mid-year examinations! I have 10 ten stacks (i.e. classes) of markings to finish by thursday afternoon and I have only barely finished three stacks. Already, I can feel the rising panic within, as there are still loads of other admin stuff to do too. It does take alot of self-motivation to get myself going (because just to complete one class may take a good three to four hours, minimum, of diligent, non-stop marking), thus I had hoped that those whom I care about (and care about me) will understand the predicament I am facing and the mood-swings I may contract in the meantime.
However, I discovered something recently that caused my trust to waver. I want to be nonchalant, cold, and indifferent because if I were all of those things, then I would be incapable of being emotionally hurt. But at this point in time, I am not all of those things.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
not anymore
The wind is howling outside. Like lost ghosts. Rain pouring down in sheets. Perfect weather to be asleep in bed, curled up beneath your blanket.
But I'm not asleep.
I'm drinking coffee.. much diluted. Thinking that I am actually afraid of dying.
When I was abit younger, I used to wish, sometimes, that if I were to not to wake up from sleep, it would be a good thing. I wanted to sleep everything away. Now that I've become slightly older, slightly more jaded, I realise that I don't want to die like that.
Because if I did, I would miss my family very much.
But I'm not asleep.
I'm drinking coffee.. much diluted. Thinking that I am actually afraid of dying.
When I was abit younger, I used to wish, sometimes, that if I were to not to wake up from sleep, it would be a good thing. I wanted to sleep everything away. Now that I've become slightly older, slightly more jaded, I realise that I don't want to die like that.
Because if I did, I would miss my family very much.
Monday, April 13, 2009
where is that perfect day?
These past couple of weeks are full of ups and downs. The latter mostly, in fact. Work has been crazy and I've been plagued with an incessant cough and an annoying runny nose. Most of the time, I'm either drowsy from the anti-histamines I've been taking (and cough syrup) or I've got a mild throbbing headache at the back of my head (from thinking about work all the time!).
Today, I was supposed to be catching up on my homework but the daylight hours was spent nursing a bad-ass, congested nose and a headache. For most of the evening, I were busy ironing shirts for the whole week. I seriously, do not like ironing. Took me an hour and more just to finish six shirts! I'm really pathetic.
This year evidently, the stress is at an all-time high. I think I'm slowly, but surely, sinking into depression...
Today, I was supposed to be catching up on my homework but the daylight hours was spent nursing a bad-ass, congested nose and a headache. For most of the evening, I were busy ironing shirts for the whole week. I seriously, do not like ironing. Took me an hour and more just to finish six shirts! I'm really pathetic.
This year evidently, the stress is at an all-time high. I think I'm slowly, but surely, sinking into depression...
Friday, April 10, 2009
killer rojak
No other piece of local news so far this year, have caught my eye more than the plight of those affected by food poisoning after consuming rojak from one of geylang's most popular stalls. My condolences to the families of the two women who passed away due to (what is believed to be) complications of food poisoning.
If you think about it, it's also rather scary that a dish as popular as the quintessential Indian rojak can be deadly. And which Malay visitor of geylang would not buy his or her share of geylang goodies? Why, just the other day, my mom bought some satay (I've a weakness for mutton satay) during her trip there and I gorged myself so much I actually developed a sore throat and cough the day after. And I've been, on and off, coughing, eversince.
Whether the rojak sauce had been accidentally contaminated with rat poison (my mom's theory) or whether it was the nasty sabotage of a jealous competitor (my brother's theory) -- who knows? Two people have died and many others were in terrible pain as a result. I hope the authorities can uncover the cause of this tragedy soon so that history will not repeat itself. Because the next time I go to geylang and buy something edible from a stall at the temporary market, I want to feel safe.
If you think about it, it's also rather scary that a dish as popular as the quintessential Indian rojak can be deadly. And which Malay visitor of geylang would not buy his or her share of geylang goodies? Why, just the other day, my mom bought some satay (I've a weakness for mutton satay) during her trip there and I gorged myself so much I actually developed a sore throat and cough the day after. And I've been, on and off, coughing, eversince.
Whether the rojak sauce had been accidentally contaminated with rat poison (my mom's theory) or whether it was the nasty sabotage of a jealous competitor (my brother's theory) -- who knows? Two people have died and many others were in terrible pain as a result. I hope the authorities can uncover the cause of this tragedy soon so that history will not repeat itself. Because the next time I go to geylang and buy something edible from a stall at the temporary market, I want to feel safe.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
been away too long
Seriously, I've been putting off updating my bloggy for so long - without me realising it, it's already April. Four months into the new year, which by the way, isn't so new by now, and what have I got to show for it??? Nothing much, basically. It's just the same old story.
************************************************************
We are like little ants floating on separate leaves upon this stream of consciousness. Time pulls us along in different directions, and I fear we will be swept away by our disparate lives very soon.
Is this what growing up entails? Becoming so distinct that we have lost the fundamental emotion of empathy for each other? Our happiness is no longer defined by the journeying together (like I used to believe it was) because the fact is, there is too little of "together" to make it worth it. Happiness has become snatches of time; fleeting moments of rushed evenings of conversations. It is never enough to satisfy our hunger; our desire to escape the realities of our weekday lives. Is our weekday lives the reality? Or those rushed evenings? But the latter is just too brief to be registered significantly by our calculating minds.
I don't know the remedy. How do we make our moments count in our journey together when "together" exists in banal moments? Is it banal because our precious conversations have become meaningless? Precious because of their rarity and meaningless because they have become mere platitudes. Empty conversations. We have become experts of polite and automaton responses that pretend to be cordial and sincere exchanges. Quantity of time does not affect its quality. It's not like that anymore. Everything counts in the end, doesn't it?
God help us.
We are like little ants floating on separate leaves upon this stream of consciousness. Time pulls us along in different directions, and I fear we will be swept away by our disparate lives very soon.
Is this what growing up entails? Becoming so distinct that we have lost the fundamental emotion of empathy for each other? Our happiness is no longer defined by the journeying together (like I used to believe it was) because the fact is, there is too little of "together" to make it worth it. Happiness has become snatches of time; fleeting moments of rushed evenings of conversations. It is never enough to satisfy our hunger; our desire to escape the realities of our weekday lives. Is our weekday lives the reality? Or those rushed evenings? But the latter is just too brief to be registered significantly by our calculating minds.
I don't know the remedy. How do we make our moments count in our journey together when "together" exists in banal moments? Is it banal because our precious conversations have become meaningless? Precious because of their rarity and meaningless because they have become mere platitudes. Empty conversations. We have become experts of polite and automaton responses that pretend to be cordial and sincere exchanges. Quantity of time does not affect its quality. It's not like that anymore. Everything counts in the end, doesn't it?
God help us.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
happy new year
That last few weeks of 2008 has been a blast.. or sort of. Filled with many idle days of decadence; days with no objective, no productivity and not much cares.
Unfortunately, all good things have always got to come to an end and here's 2009, bringing with it a new set of challenges and forebodings. And let me assure you, I am very anxious about the next few months. One word of course, is the main reason of my anxiety -- work. Seriously, I've only been back at work for less than a fortnight but already, I'm now trying to accept (with much effort) certain decisions made by management concerning my workload and extra-curricular activity, much like a very sick person trying to swallow a very very bitter pill. How could I object? Especially if the very people responsible for those undesirable decisions are the same ones who have a say about your ricebowl?
Sometimes, the people with the most noble of intentions are the ones who are most cruel to you.
Unfortunately, all good things have always got to come to an end and here's 2009, bringing with it a new set of challenges and forebodings. And let me assure you, I am very anxious about the next few months. One word of course, is the main reason of my anxiety -- work. Seriously, I've only been back at work for less than a fortnight but already, I'm now trying to accept (with much effort) certain decisions made by management concerning my workload and extra-curricular activity, much like a very sick person trying to swallow a very very bitter pill. How could I object? Especially if the very people responsible for those undesirable decisions are the same ones who have a say about your ricebowl?
Sometimes, the people with the most noble of intentions are the ones who are most cruel to you.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
on hiatus
I'll be away for the next few days. Heading to KL (where else?) to unwind and recharge and hopefully reset my circadian clock because my sleeping hours have gone really crazy these days, eversince I've stopped reporting to school for official work. I know, I know I've been complaining non-stop about all my sleepless nights planning lessons, doing up powerpoint slides, setting test/exam papers, marking scripts, etc, and I keep telling people that teaching is NOT fun... but right now, when days are spent waking up late and indulging in my couch-potato tendencies, I feel that it's all been worth it.
Well anyway, I shouldn't really be too elated as I gotta go back to work end of next week (sob!sob!).
By the way, I totally forgot to wish everyone a merry Aidiladha. Much too late now isn't it? HAha.
That's my youngest niece. Isn't she just perfectly adorable! What can I say? I LOVE BABIES! :)
Well anyway, I shouldn't really be too elated as I gotta go back to work end of next week (sob!sob!).
By the way, I totally forgot to wish everyone a merry Aidiladha. Much too late now isn't it? HAha.
That's my youngest niece. Isn't she just perfectly adorable! What can I say? I LOVE BABIES! :)
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
flaws and all
Very very recently I've discovered a song by Beyonce, which I mati-mati thought is in her latest album I am... Sasha Fierce but actually, it can be found in her previous album B day, the deluxe edition no less. (Btw, don't you just LOATHE deluxe editions of whatever? especially if you had bought the first, non-deluxe version already???)
This is probably the first (and the last?) time that I will ever append a youtube video to my blog but I'm sooooooo much in lurve with this song right now that I've just gotta share it with everyone no matter how sappy it might make me seem... Well anyway, in the vid, Beyonce is as gorgeous as always despite her power-exec look. Note also how she managed to be rather teary-eyed by song's end. Though not exactly the Oscar-winner type, Beyonce can be a really good actress when she applies herself. Can't wait for Cadillac Records to open in Singapore (she's headlining as Etta James!!).
Yes, I concede the lyrics are quite cliched but seriously, I am feeling this song very much! LOL
This is probably the first (and the last?) time that I will ever append a youtube video to my blog but I'm sooooooo much in lurve with this song right now that I've just gotta share it with everyone no matter how sappy it might make me seem... Well anyway, in the vid, Beyonce is as gorgeous as always despite her power-exec look. Note also how she managed to be rather teary-eyed by song's end. Though not exactly the Oscar-winner type, Beyonce can be a really good actress when she applies herself. Can't wait for Cadillac Records to open in Singapore (she's headlining as Etta James!!).
Yes, I concede the lyrics are quite cliched but seriously, I am feeling this song very much! LOL
Sunday, December 7, 2008
every other day, there is a tragedy
As a Singaporean, I felt the death of Lo Hwei Yen (held hostage during the recent Mumbai attacks) very keenly. I couldn't imagine the terror she must have felt right there in that hotel room, bound and waiting for rescue to come, at the mercy of her captors. What horrors must have gone through her mind during those last few moments before her precious life was taken away from her? She was a young, bright lawyer, just a year in her marriage, with a future before her... and by some cruel twist of fate, became a victim of the blind hatred and foolishness of a group of selfish humans who thoughtlessly murder innocents for the advancement of a questionable cause.
Just yesterday, a landslide in the suburbs of Kuala Lumpur claimed four lives, demolished more than a dozen homes while displacing hundreds (or thousands?) of other residents living in hillside estates or houses amid the government's fears that this calamity is possibly just a first amongst several others. It's the monsoon season afterall and landslides (devastating or not) are very probable.
It was reported recently that more than a thousand people, in Singapore, have died this year, from HIV infection and AIDS.
What is the purpose of this entry? I honestly don't know.
Just yesterday, a landslide in the suburbs of Kuala Lumpur claimed four lives, demolished more than a dozen homes while displacing hundreds (or thousands?) of other residents living in hillside estates or houses amid the government's fears that this calamity is possibly just a first amongst several others. It's the monsoon season afterall and landslides (devastating or not) are very probable.
It was reported recently that more than a thousand people, in Singapore, have died this year, from HIV infection and AIDS.
What is the purpose of this entry? I honestly don't know.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
muallaf
In the not too distant past, I've blogged about the films I've seen but I've realised, quite some time back, that it was foolish of me to be critically assessing these films when in actual fact, I have very little knowledge about film-making, film-history or films at all. Sure, I've taken a module on American Film Studies and a couple other theatre-related modules back in my NUS days, and I must admit that I'm rather picky about the kind of films I watch, but that doesn't make me a film critic does it?
Well anyway, most of the time, though I tried to be as objective as possible in my "reviews", I know that I've failed miserably. The way I judge a film mostly depends on how the show has affected me and I can be quite a biased viewer. Take for instance the latest Yasmin Ahmad film, Muallaf, which opened at Cathay's the Picturehouse last thursday. Even before stepping into the cinema, I've already decided that it was going to be a great film and that I am going to like it very much. How objective is that!!! LOL
When converted to the English language, the term "Muallaf" means a convert, and to Malays (and Muslims), the word is used generally as a noun to refer to non-muslims who have embraced Islam as a religion. After reading several articles, I've discovered that the Chinese translation of the film's title means "Change of Heart", and not really a change of faith (i.e. religion) as the Malay title hints at. I was puzzled by the film's title at first because, although the film takes religious issues (and ideas in theology) and places them boldly and unabashedly center-stage (which is unlike previous Yasmin Ahmad films), there is nothing in the film that hints at a character converting to Islam.
Anyway, despite my preconceived notions that this would be Yasmin Ahmad's "heaviest" film to date (remember the controversy surrounding Sharifah Amani's shaved head??), I can't help thinking that Yasmin's previous film, Gubra, was emotionally more impactful. Nevertheless, Muallaf displays the typical Yasmin Ahmad modus operandi: the minimal use of music or song to enhance scenes, long protracted moments of silence when nothing much really happens on-screen, vistas of scenery to generate a certain mood or emotion, and that occasional snapshot of her film's characters doing something that doesn't seem to have any purpose in the context of the film at all. Most of the time, plotlines are implied rather than made explicit and we're always left to our own devices as to how to interpret certain actions, lines or images.
Great films, I realise, make use of silences and images very effectively. If used appropriately, these silent moments could generate very powerful emotions in the sensitive viewer. Take for instance Brokeback Mountain, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Mukhsin, etc etc. Many of these have been described as "slow and draggy" but if we let them, great films will make us think introspectively, about human nature, humanity and above all else, about ourselves. Muallaf is indeed a great film.
It is not about religion, as most discerning film-reviewers have pointed out, but about love, about forgiving and forgiveness, and most importantly, it is about family.
4.5 out of 5 stars!!! ;D
Well anyway, most of the time, though I tried to be as objective as possible in my "reviews", I know that I've failed miserably. The way I judge a film mostly depends on how the show has affected me and I can be quite a biased viewer. Take for instance the latest Yasmin Ahmad film, Muallaf, which opened at Cathay's the Picturehouse last thursday. Even before stepping into the cinema, I've already decided that it was going to be a great film and that I am going to like it very much. How objective is that!!! LOL
When converted to the English language, the term "Muallaf" means a convert, and to Malays (and Muslims), the word is used generally as a noun to refer to non-muslims who have embraced Islam as a religion. After reading several articles, I've discovered that the Chinese translation of the film's title means "Change of Heart", and not really a change of faith (i.e. religion) as the Malay title hints at. I was puzzled by the film's title at first because, although the film takes religious issues (and ideas in theology) and places them boldly and unabashedly center-stage (which is unlike previous Yasmin Ahmad films), there is nothing in the film that hints at a character converting to Islam.
Anyway, despite my preconceived notions that this would be Yasmin Ahmad's "heaviest" film to date (remember the controversy surrounding Sharifah Amani's shaved head??), I can't help thinking that Yasmin's previous film, Gubra, was emotionally more impactful. Nevertheless, Muallaf displays the typical Yasmin Ahmad modus operandi: the minimal use of music or song to enhance scenes, long protracted moments of silence when nothing much really happens on-screen, vistas of scenery to generate a certain mood or emotion, and that occasional snapshot of her film's characters doing something that doesn't seem to have any purpose in the context of the film at all. Most of the time, plotlines are implied rather than made explicit and we're always left to our own devices as to how to interpret certain actions, lines or images.
Great films, I realise, make use of silences and images very effectively. If used appropriately, these silent moments could generate very powerful emotions in the sensitive viewer. Take for instance Brokeback Mountain, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon, Mukhsin, etc etc. Many of these have been described as "slow and draggy" but if we let them, great films will make us think introspectively, about human nature, humanity and above all else, about ourselves. Muallaf is indeed a great film.
It is not about religion, as most discerning film-reviewers have pointed out, but about love, about forgiving and forgiveness, and most importantly, it is about family.
4.5 out of 5 stars!!! ;D
Thursday, November 27, 2008
counting blessings
Z: You're so old already. You should go out and see the world. What's the point of going KL only all the time? Aren't you bored??It's true that I'm not getting any younger and sadly, I don't travel, nor do anything particularly exciting with my life. Perhaps that is why I sometimes feel so frustrated by my own "under-the-tortoise-shell" (that's a literal translation from the malay proverb!! haha) lifestyle, which is partly due to certain limitations, that I feel compelled to do something really foolish and stupid to vent my pent-up emotions. Like if I was on the road driving, I would impulsively break the speed limit and crash into a tree or something of the sort... just so the impact would jolt me back to my senses.
Me: You've got a point...
But of course, the consequences of such foolish actions will not only "wake" you up to the sensible world and reality, it would also cause grievous harm to yourself and to those who love you and whom you love. I've realised that sometimes, to wish for more, to crave the greener grass on the other side, is never really in your best interests.
I feel blessed for whatever and whoever I have in my life right now, and it's about time I start showing my gratitude for all these things and people I'm most fortunate to have in my life. Moreover, despite my meager December bonus (which has already become public knowledge), I am thankful that I have a job to go back to at all. =D
Thursday, November 20, 2008
another cab, another conversation
Cab driver: Around three years ago, there were hardly any jams along the expressways at this hour...Either I'm very gullible or I'm just not updated about current affairs. I'd rather think that I'm the latter. Anyway, taxi fares are not what they used to be. From my place (in Jurong) to Millenia Walk, it cost me twenty bucks! There was a time it didn't even hit $12 or $14... sigh.
Me: Eh? How come??
C.d.: Because COE has dropped so much, more people buy cars. That's why more jams!
Me: OH.. I see...
C.d.: Price of COE now $2... last time $10, 000!
Me: REALLY???!!
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
just another day
The rain was pretty heavy in the late morning and it went on all the way 'til late afternoon, thus giving the perfect excuse to stay home and laze around unproductively. Of course, an "off" day is not really an "off" day unless one has slept in (i.e. wake up quite late) but fortunately, I managed to pull myself together and roll off my bed by approximately 10am. That's not too disgusting a time to wake up from sleep on an "off" day, right??
I brought my sulking eight-year old niece to the library after the rain had turned into a slight drizzle. By then, it was already 4pm. Was actually determined to avoid the peak hour crowd and traffic. Am trying very hard to instill a reading habit into my niece so that she will be able to improve her (English) language skills but I'm not sure of the type of books that a primary-two-going-to-primary-three kid should be reading. As it is, she is still going for books which have more illustrations than words. Heck, the books she picked out probably had fewer than fifty words on each page. Is that normal for an eight-year old?? Have resolved to try reading to/with her at least twice/thrice a week.
Apart from that charitable library visit, I guess, the day hadn't been truly productive/constructive for me. However, I DID discover two new things today:
1) The National Library Board have increased the book lending quota to twice (or is it more than that?) the usual amount. For a limited time period of course.
2) The driver of the cab I was on, informed me that the first McDonald's ever to open in Singapore was the Lido branch.
Sometimes, conversations with cab drivers can be very interesting and enlightening -- Seriously, everytime I board a cab now, I expect cab drivers to make some kind of conversation with me and when they don't, I'd feel a tad disappointed. However, there have been a few cab drivers who just crap around too much and you feel like telling them to just shut up. But of course, these kind will never actually shut up until the moment you've paid your fare and stepped out of their cabs.
Anyway, it's back to the office tomorrow (or later actually) and the day after for some workshops/seminars and hopefully, the next couple of days won't be as dreadful as I think they'll be.
I brought my sulking eight-year old niece to the library after the rain had turned into a slight drizzle. By then, it was already 4pm. Was actually determined to avoid the peak hour crowd and traffic. Am trying very hard to instill a reading habit into my niece so that she will be able to improve her (English) language skills but I'm not sure of the type of books that a primary-two-going-to-primary-three kid should be reading. As it is, she is still going for books which have more illustrations than words. Heck, the books she picked out probably had fewer than fifty words on each page. Is that normal for an eight-year old?? Have resolved to try reading to/with her at least twice/thrice a week.
Apart from that charitable library visit, I guess, the day hadn't been truly productive/constructive for me. However, I DID discover two new things today:
1) The National Library Board have increased the book lending quota to twice (or is it more than that?) the usual amount. For a limited time period of course.
2) The driver of the cab I was on, informed me that the first McDonald's ever to open in Singapore was the Lido branch.
Sometimes, conversations with cab drivers can be very interesting and enlightening -- Seriously, everytime I board a cab now, I expect cab drivers to make some kind of conversation with me and when they don't, I'd feel a tad disappointed. However, there have been a few cab drivers who just crap around too much and you feel like telling them to just shut up. But of course, these kind will never actually shut up until the moment you've paid your fare and stepped out of their cabs.
Anyway, it's back to the office tomorrow (or later actually) and the day after for some workshops/seminars and hopefully, the next couple of days won't be as dreadful as I think they'll be.
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