Thursday, June 29, 2006

the first time I mention God here

Darn it--another late night again. Right now though, my heart isn't filled with the desire of peaceful deep slumber. It's full of relief, instead. My mum got into an accident, where she almost got killed. She wasn't injured though, thank God.

It was after prayer meeting, about 10 pm probably, and she had to drop someone off at Mutiara Damansara--unfamilliar territory. That went fine, until she tried to find her way back home later, and was somewhat unsuccessful. Looks like I got my road illiteracy from her. She wasn't sure of the way, and was just focusing so much on getting to Ikea, that she didn't notice that she was on the side road, not the main road, as she assumed. Being the fast driver that she is, she sped all the way and didn't bother stopping at the junction. This huge speeding Unser loomed at her side, and she knew then, that it was too late to do anything.

It was a good thing she didn't do anything anyway. It hit the back of the driver's side. If she had braked, it most probably would have hit her directly. So, of course, the driver came out, yelled at her, fished out his handphone, and started rattling off to his boss in Thailand and any other poor chap who was ready to listen to his tale of some woman getting him into an accident. Of all times, my mum's handphone battery HAD to die at that moment too. So, she borrowed his phone and tried to call my uncle. His phone was off though. When the tow truck arrived, the guy just rushed off, leaving a woman stranded on a road in the middle of the night without a handphone. Bloody idiot.

Luckily, a passerby was there, and he offered to walk back to his house to get my mum a handphone. And he waited for the tow truck with her, for about an hour and a half. Of course, my mum couldn't miss the chance to share the gospel with him then. Typical. :P But really, thank God for him.

And thank God that my mum's still alive...

Written at 3:12 AM

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Friday, June 23, 2006

cute tiny bundles of fur!

Zsa Zsa my precious kitten, or cat I should call her, has given birth to three beautiful kittens...well, they're not really beautiful. Pretty ugly, actually. Haha. They all look like mongrels. Oops--I shouldn't say that. Not when I'm planning on selling them.

OK, they're all really cute babies! Come and get 'em!!! Kittens for sale! Beautiful bundles of fur promising a lifetime of endless joy and fun await you, at only the cost of a phone call. ;-)

If anyone's interested, or you know anyone who's interested, do buzz me here.

Written at 7:44 PM

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long-forgotten nights

The night is cool...having just been washed by a light sheet of rain. The peace and calm beckons a flow of memories, reminisces of nights which I now yearn for again. Pretty bad for my new resolution, I must say. Unfortunately, I do not have the power to block the influx of such memories. I can only quell the desires evoked, so that they remain just as they are--memories. Sigh...

If only memories could be lived out, we would have no need for reality then.

Written at 2:18 AM

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Thursday, June 22, 2006

wonderful lovely beautiful sleep

Good morning everyone!!

What a bright and lovely morning it is...*stretches*

Had an unintentional 9 hours sleep last night. Wanted to take a 20 minute nap, ended up sleeping till 7 am. Haha.

So I've decided that sleeping 4 hours a night and zonking out for 12 hours on Sundays is out. From now on, it's time to enjoy the underappreciated pleasures of sleep. Helps me study better too. :P

Time to hit the books!

Written at 9:55 AM

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Tuesday, June 20, 2006

unpleasant lesson

Ahh..what a beautiful cool night.

Surprisingly relaxed considering what happened this afternoon. It was a somewhat unpleasant event regarding the issue of trust. To put it succinctly, it was the result of a culmination of unfortunate events. Of course, I had a role to play. But Fate, as she always is, throws in a bunch of other venomous ingredients to cook up a rather nasty concoction.

Well, I can't go back in time, so I'll just learn from this, and not do the same mistake in future. Might have ruminated on this if it hadn't been for a soothing conversation with God, and another conversation with a dearly loved friend. You know who you are. Thank you very much. ;-)

Well, that's all for tonight. Should sleep now...my usual 4 hours of sleep. Weekends will be 12 hours for recuperation.

Bonne nuit!

Written at 1:32 AM

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Sunday, June 18, 2006

apathy

Today was the conclusion of my AWAM paracounseling training sessions. We visited Ti-Ratana, this Buddhist home which houses old folks, children and women. It's a home made of three separate houses tucked up at the top of a little hill deep in the bowels of Desa Petaling. Our so-called tour guide, Raj, who's actually a childminder led us to see the place. There were a lot of kids running about the place, playing in the light drizzle blissfully, unperturbed by our presence. He told us many things, like how some of the children are dumped by single mothers who can't afford to raise them. A few were abused by their own parents--one was scarily like a case example in some psych textbook: right until the age of 7, she was just given food and drink without ever being spoken to. So, when she was sent to the Home, she was almost like an animal, unable to converse in human language. They called her abnormal. But, she gradually learned to speak, although she still suffers from a mental disorder called pica, where she eats her own shit. Sigh...

The next item on the grand tour was the old folks. They're placed in quite a neat, almost pleasant-looking house. All of us walked in, looking curiously at them like museum exhibits, while they just gazed back vacantly. What do these people look forward to everyday? All they have is a small house filled with strangers, devoid of the love and familiarity of family. Are they happy? Or are they merely existing, going through day after day in a mindless mechanical routine like a toothpaste-making factory.

After more questions fired at the caretakers, we left the place; most of them holding the Home's newsletters and volunteer forms in their arms, with avid promises of sincerity glittering in their eyes. Whether the promises will be fulfilled, I don't know, though I am guessing that they most likely will not. A browse for five minutes as sadness fills the heart. The stomach growls, signaling hunger. Thoughts of dinner sweep away the memories of lost children and forgotten men, and the newsletters and volunteer forms lay on the floor, clean and empty.

All right. Perhaps I'm just being cynical. I don't know what I'm feeling. I expected to come back from the trip feeling grateful for a caring family and a wonderful home. Otherwise, deep sadness and a slight touch of anger, perhaps, at the mistreatment of children and old men. I don't feel any of these things. There's something sitting in my heart which I can't quite identify, like an oddly-shaped putty model which resembles nothing I've ever seen before.

Funny, innit? I, of all people, seem to suffer from apathy. Maybe it's because I've been on autopilot mood these past few days--a result of suppressing my emotions. Wise? Maybe not. But thoughts of him are disappearing faster. They appear frequently of course, like annoying fireflies. But, it's getting easier to swat them, so that they disappear almost instantly like blown lightbulbs.

Well, things might change after a good night's sleep, when I ever get one. :P Have been stealing 3 hours a night here and there, then sleeping for a good 8 hours. Next week onwards, Monday to Friday afternoons will be full--counseling on Mon, teaching from Tues to Thurs, and classes on Fri. Am I doing too much? Perhaps...we'll have to see the condition of my eyes at the end of next week. :P

Written at 3:10 AM

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Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Mea culpa

Mea culpa...beautiful French song by Enigma. It means my mistake--perfect for describing what I've been doing this past few weeks. Fooled myself into believing that it was all right longing after someone who has no intention of reciprocating. Of course, when you let a mere mortal's words, actions, touch dictate your emotions, it's rather easy to plummet straight down with no parachute to lighten the fall.

Now, it's time for me to regain control. Here's a list of steps I will undertake in repressing what I feel for him. Yes, repressing. I don't believe it's ever possible to forget what you once felt for someone. Maybe repressing doesn't really solve the root issue. But then again, it's useful for burying things deep down, so deep that it'll take a great deal of hard work shoveling it up to the surface again. So, here goes:
  1. Perceive his words and actions as things which an ordinary friend would do to you.
  2. Imagine them being done to every other girl, not you alone.
  3. Whenever a thought of him crosses your mind, quickly think of something else.
  4. Quit daydreaming or fantasizing about the future with him.
  5. Keep yourself busy so that you don't even have time to think of him.
  6. Divert your repressed emotions to something else which you can be passionate about--writing, sports etc.
  7. Finally, never ever forget about your will to flush him out from all conscious thought.

Written at 11:43 PM

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she hates love

She hates love

Night has crept in
tired and worn out
as if it holds a 9 to 5 job.

She comes in, throws off her heels
downs coffee mechanically,
The heavily advertised aroma
of coffee beans is lost on her.

Her mind is on other things
things that do not reek of banal consumerism
an almost mystical object, element she is dreaming of...
magical, she would think, but not say aloud
it sounds too childish,
yet, this is how she really feels about love.

He is not here yet
and so she waits patiently for her love.

Finally, he arrives
haggard and pinched
pale hands gripping a black suitcase,
as if it contained a million-dollar ransom.
It's nothing but a crutch
She hates it.
And wishes that he would lean on her instead.

The coffee is drunk in silence
she says nothing, only sits by his side as he sips,
his face blank.
Will he love her tonight?
or will she hear the legendary 'Not tonight, honey',
spoken in deep irritable male tones.

The almost arousing anticipation she held earlier vanishes
smeared gray with uncertainty
her anxiety shows clearly; she makes sure of it.

He is playing that game with her again
a game which she has not yet quite mastered
she is too straight
her view is colored either black or white
his is gray,
gray or silver
even she can't tell the difference.
It scares her...
she feels like a color-blind person at a traffic light,
wondering if she should cross.
Perhaps she has been seeing the wrong messages all this while.

Still that blank look on his face,
as if she were merely a manequin
dressed seductively to attract rich customers with plastic
An enblem of the consumer world.

She feels dirty and degraded,
in her own home, of all places
it was supposed to be an island,
A refuge,
protected from the manicured hands of the outside world
a place of love
garden of eden.

But maybe it was never love
the anger rises
she longs to punch him with all her heart
she also wants to kiss him.

He says nothing
continues to sip his coffee,
finally, he looks up
stretches his hand,
touches her cheekbone lightly,
an apparent gesture of intimacy,
though his eyes reveal nothing.

The corners of his mouth quirk
just a little,
but it is enough.
He has won, again.

He kisses her with a sudden passion
and she succumbs,
anger and anxiety turn an otherwise ordinary kiss
into a violent exchange of emotions,
taste of victory
bitterness of uncertainty.

She hates love.

Written at 1:11 AM

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Monday, June 12, 2006

locks and drugs

All right. No more editing my blog. Been so much fun recreating it. Heheh. Back to studying psychoactive drugs for the quiz tomorrow. :S

If I had to take a drug, I'd probably take meth. Haha. Would be so useful for staying up nights doing my work instead of having to sleep.

But, nah...long-term effects of meth are pretty scary--hallucinations that bugs are crawling under your skin, brain damage, epilepsy etc. Ugh. Drugs are bad.

Chopped off my hair yesterday. Got mixed reactions from friends. Some loved the new rebellious look, while others abhorred it. 'It's just not you, Su!' Bleh, I like it. :-)

Written at 10:05 PM

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sleep by the clock

Major renovation to my blog. I love it! :D

It's 1.10 am...I should be in bed by now dreaming of things which can only exist in the dream realm. But, I'm stuck in front of the computer screen. As usual...:S

I hereby resolve to sleep at least 6 hours each night, regularly. No more crazy erratic sleeping habits. Otherwise, one minute, I'll feel alert while the next, I'm ready to doze off. My poor body is crying for rest.

It starts tonight. Bonne nuit!

Written at 1:12 AM

2 comments

Sunday, June 11, 2006

stretched like butter over too much bread

This time, I really will regulate my sleeping habits. My sleeping cycle is completely out of whack, sleeping for 8 hours for two nights in a row, then not sleeping at all the subsequent night. And this is only the beginning of the semester!

Now, I'm wondering (again) whether I'm doing too many things. Looks like my gender research paper is out this semester. Probably will start on it after this sem, or during the fall sem. Writing and publishing one research paper a semester is quite enough. Work on my Work Experiences of Malaysians with Mental Illness has already commenced. I'm quite glad that I've three people working with me on that. Don't think I'd be able to handle all the work alone.

And it appears as if I'm holding a full-time job after all. Sandy wants me to continue teaching Helena English, for as long as two and half years, if I'd like to. More than just an English tutor, she wants me to be a good friend to her and her aunt, since they're foreigners in this land (Koreans). I'll get bonuses, pay raises, incentives, and all that stuff too. Already got a taste of it a couple of days ago. They took me to Kajang Sate!! :P

Teaching's quite a heavy commitment though. I don't like doing things half-heartedly. So, if I really want a little girl to master a language, I'll have to work at seeing that come to pass. My paracounseling sessions at AWAM have also ended. Soon, I'll be picking up the phone, listening to the tortured confidences of battered women.

whisper, weep, wail...

Sigh...not to mention that I'll be joining Peer Support Group, leading two groups, and striving to score straight As this semester. Oh yes, I'm also an Abnormal Psych tutor, which actually turns out to be a lot heavier than being a Research Methods tutor. Marking case studies, guiding students doing qualitative research and interviews for the first time etc.

If I manage to do all of this, it really will be by God's grace. I know I'll have to put Him first above everything else if I want to succeed. I pray that everything will work out fine.

I wonder what I'll be like when I'm 30...

Written at 2:57 AM

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Saturday, June 10, 2006

journey of a spatially-challenged traveler

Whew! I'm back home safe and sound. Went to Chili's in Megamall with John Kiat and Su Ling and her friend to celebrate Su's birthday! Unexpectedly met Asha and her sister there.

Drove my precious baby there of course, fresh from undergoing a total repair work. Cost RM 1000! :S Of course, it wasn't entirely because of my damages--mine only cost RM 275. Haha.

After dinner, I chose to send John back home. Went up treacherous dark winding roads, encountered strange beings on the way staring at us mutinously, and fought my way through dense growth and looming trees just to ensure that his butt got back home safely.

OK, I'm exaggerating a little. In reality, there WERE multiple dark winding roads, and his place really is in the middle of some forest. When I stopped in front of a divider to answer a phone call, a police car slowed down beside us. They didn't stop--only looked at us as if we were doing something immoral like making out. Lol. If I wanted to make out, I definitely wouldn't do it in the middle of some god-forsaken forest. Not the most romantic place on earth...

In the end, I found my way back home, albeit with a few calls to John when I got stumped at a divider.

So, I'm glad to say that this spatially-challenged driver with the memory of a goldfish when it comes to roads and directions actually made it. No bumps or scratches or full-blown panic attacks. And I'm proud of her. :-)

Written at 12:42 AM

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Friday, June 09, 2006

The Omen review

Watched the Omen on 6/6/06. Here's a review for you folks who wanna watch it. :-)

The Omen 2006 Review

The Omen released this year is a rather good remake of the 1976 movie, sticking closely to the original. There only a few details in this movie which differ from the original; this movie portrays tragedies like 9/11 and the December tsunami as fulfillments of the prophecies made in the book of Revelation.

As far as the plot goes, it is known from the start of the movie that the boy Damien is the Anti-Christ. Thus, the trajectory of events is rather predictable. As the boy grows up, strange things start to happen around him, indicating the boy’s evilness. Soon enough, his mother starts to suspect something and distances herself from him. Finally, Damien’s father is left to decide whether he should kill the Anti-Christ, a boy whom he has raised for five years.

In the original movie, the predictability did not detract from the horror and suspense in any way. This is where the sore difference lies between both movies: the 2006 version lacks the dark intensity of the original. While this movie uses cheap shocks, the original used subtle horror. This movie also relies heavily on sound effects to produce fear. Back in the times when creativity still existed, the original movie cleverly employed a dark gritty atmosphere, which filled you with a sense of horror as the events unfolded.

In this movie, Julia Stiles is surprisingly cast as Damien’s mother, Mrs Thorn. She is rather young for this role, although she plays her character competently. While she manages to portray the fear of her son convincingly, she is not quite able to show the complex internal conflict she faces as a mother who both loves and fears her son.

Liev Schreiber (Mr Thorn) is an excellent actor, effectively communicating the torment and grief he suffers as the father of the Anti-Christ. The final scene where he attempts to kill his son is played extremely well, portraying his internal struggle. Likewise, David Thewlis (Keith Jennings, the photographer) realistically portrays a man passionate for the truth. The one who takes the cake though, is Mia Farrow, who plays the nanny from hell. She exudes menace and inspires terror, almost as much as Damien himself, if not more. Seamus Davey-Fitzpatrick (Damien) rarely speaks in the movie. Like the original Damien, he evokes fear through his creepy intense stares.

Compared to the original Omen, this movie is inferior, unsurprisingly. Remakes rarely beat the original. However, as remakes go, this is a good one. As a stand-alone movie, there are many logical inconsistencies which might irk the cynic. The plot may also seem predictable to some. However, the noteworthy performances of Schreiber and Farrow bring the movie to life, sustaining the audience’s interest. All in all, this movie is entertaining fare, though one must take the portrayal of Catholicism with a pinch of salt. So, go ahead—watch the movie and play guessing games as to when the end of days will finally arrive in this world.

Written at 1:05 AM

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Tuesday, June 06, 2006

stop blaming the rape victim!

Felt like writing this after reading the stupid article in the Star. I'm just really angry at how people still blame the victim for being raped. As if being raped by four guys isn't enough, she's being accused of bringing it on herself! No wonder so few women want to bring charges upon their rapists...

What the heck happened to justice? The court is a total mockery of justice. Instead of protecting the victims, it's protecting the rapists and murderers. The rich and powerful. What happens to the weak and defenseless? Who is left to procure justice for them?


Stop blaming the victim!

I am writing in response to the article ‘Alleged victim of rape by four US marines relives ordeal’ (The Star, June 5), whereby the defense lawyers of the alleged rapists tried to portray the rape victim as an immoral woman who deserved to be raped. I am very angry and disturbed that such mindsets still exist in this modern age.

Rape happens to females of all ages, dressed in all sorts of clothing, from baju kurungs to school uniforms. Statistics show that girls as young as five and women as old as seventy get raped. Therefore, a woman’s dressing and conduct has nothing to do with a man deciding to rape her. Men rape to gain power over women.

Blaming the victim for being raped is akin to a thief blaming a shopkeeper for displaying his goods. Rape is a conscious act of violence. The full responsibility of the act lies with the perpetrator, not the victim. Other men who have looked at the same woman chose to respect her, instead of violating her.

Why is it that when a rape is committed, the victim is often blamed? Yet, when murder is done, the victim is pitied while the murderer is condemned. Rape is a despicable and heinous crime, not any different from murder. Before we start blaming the victim, let’s pause for a moment and imagine what it would be like if our sister, mother, or friend got raped. Would we accuse them of bringing it upon themselves?

Condemn the rape, not the victim.

Written at 12:43 AM

2 comments

Sunday, June 04, 2006

Da Vinci Code Movie review

Having watched the so-called most controversial film of the year, here's my 2 sen worth of the Da Vinci Code movie.

Da Vinci Code Movie Review

Most of you would have seen the Da Vinci Code movie by now, either in the cinema, or through other ahem, means which do not support Dan Brown. This movie will bring a huge sigh of relief to Christians, as it does not deliver the punch needed to make its message credible. After watching it, people will be wondering what the huge fuss is about, moan about their waste of RM 9 over teh tarik, and start watching the World Cup instead, erasing faint memories of the utterly forgettable Da Vinci Code.

Overall, the DVC is an uninspiring excuse for a summer blockbuster. So much for all the hype and controversy surrounding it; the Christians need not have spent so much energy protesting against it and demanding for its ban. The DVC, truthfully, is not worthy of such attention. It does not even have the power to sustain one’s attention throughout the whole movie; much less shake one’s religious faith. The so-called revelations in the movie come off as ridiculous, igniting laughter, not doubt.

The DVC need not have been memorable, but at the very least, it should have been entertaining. Unfortunately, the DVC fails even that criterion. The flow of the movie is rather slow; too much talking and not enough action. At times, it feels more like a history lesson than an action blockbuster, an inaccurate history lesson, at that. In order to make the history lesson more interesting, director Howard uses numerous flashbacks to make it come to life. However, the flashbacks only serve to detract from the movie, slowing it down even further.

Even two renowned actors like Hanks and McKellen could not save this dud of a movie. Surprisingly, Hanks’ acting is largely uninspiring—there is no development in his character, which leaves his sudden religiosity at the end of the movie unpalatable. Throughout the movie, Hanks’ character, Robert Langdon, seems extremely reluctant undergoing the quest for truth. There is no sense of wonder during his pursuit, only skepticism, which does not quite match his character in the book.

McKellen’s acting, as Leigh Teabing, is slightly better—his obvious passion for the truth makes his wicked actions somewhat understandable. Tautou, as Sophie Neveu, remains rather clueless throughout the whole movie, like a five-year-old girl whom the wise, all-knowing Langdon is constantly explaining things to. Shame really, as Sophie Neveu is far cleverer in the book than she was portrayed here in the movie. It is also ironic, considering that the movie is about the sacred feminine. Yet, she plays second fiddle to Langdon and Teabing. What makes the movie harder to watch is the lack of chemistry between Hanks and Tautou. Their characters are painted rather shallowly. Although there is some attempt to add dimension, there is not much success, leaving the characters flat and half-baked.

Conclusively, the DVC is a largely forgettable affair, failing to live up to all the hype it has generated. Save your RM 9 and go watch X Men instead.

Written at 1:57 AM

4 comments

Friday, June 02, 2006

teacher teacher

I gave an English test to my student today. She didn't score as well as I hoped--roughly 13/20 for both her simple present and past tenses, 16/20 for question words, and generally didn't do very well in her sentence composition. However, she did do exceptionally well in her conjunctions, and phrasal and modal verbs. She was disappointed, and to tell the truth, so was I. I really expected her to score 80 % at least.

Then I realized--perhaps I'm expecting too much of her. My sense of normality is so warped that an A is perfectly usual to me, while a B is a no-no. The world isn't made out of As and Bs though. It's not shaded in two contrasting colors; the world of academic performances is colorless but shapely--a graceful curve with majority of people falling right in the middle. The middle is usual, the ends are not. So if my student falls in the middle, it's expected. But then again, it's not as if I have anyone to compare her with. Sigh...

All right. I'm too tired to think--Da Vinci Code movie sucked out all the energy out of me, just trying to keep myself awake during the exceptionally boring movie. 80 % is probably too high, considering that she's learning a new language. But then again, there's that Pygmalion Effect. Oh, to heck with it.

I'll just give her a bead anyway, for trying so hard. Then, it's time for more revision and helping her to understand what on earth she's been learning.

Sigh...am I a good teacher? Doubts, doubts and more doubts. Flee, I tell you! Now, I'm speaking like some drunk English swordsman fighting off shadows.

*drinks a pot of ale and stumbles blearily to bed*

Written at 2:20 AM

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