Nothing serious about this

Speechless by the King's Speech

2011-02-05T18:21:00.001+08:00

Drawn upon a rich narrative and set amidst the beautiful wintery landscape of England in the pre war years, The King's Speech is poignant, exuberant and unexpected in many ways. It is a biopic about the stammering King George VI (played by Colin Firth) who found himself ascending the throne following his brother's forced abdication overcoming his stammer and ultimately finding his voice to helm the nation to greatness. It is a moving story about an unexpected friendship developed between a king and his unorthodox speech therapist that marked the beginning of a great era in the history of Britain's monarchy.

The film opens with various close shots of a wireless broadcast mic that at once seem looming, large and intimidating. Director Tom Hooper is a master at the art form as throughout the film, it is worth noting the many interesting juxtaposition of camera angles especially during the interplays between the king and his speech therapist, Lionel Logue (played by Geoffrey Rush) as well as from the king's point of view behind the mic during his public deliveries.

The magic of The King's Speech lies in the subtle and gradual transformations in the king where we see him slowly overcoming his speech impediment and eventually finding his own style of eloquence. Colin Firth played his regal part resplendently and sublimely as though the role was created for him. This was a transcendental and career stamping moment for him as we did not just watch a performance by an actor. Firth disappeared behind his character and gelled into a singular entity with the stammering and volatile King George VI.

On the other hand, Helena Bonham Carter who plays Queen Elizabeth seemed a tad out of her element and mellow compared to her usual selection of roles but still played her part with elegance while Geoffrey Rush was his usual refined self displaying his competency and buoyancy in his acting prowess. The screenplay written by David Seidler is delicate and intelligent while the hauntingly beautiful score by Alexandre Desplat is reminiscent of the work of Jan A.P. Kaczmarek in Hachiko: A Dog's Story while not in any way, discounting his talents.

The King's Speech is artfully and brilliantly directed and there are moments in the film that will get you laughing out loud. It is engaging, magnificent and leaves one feeling triumphant at the end. Rating 9/10

127 hours

2011-01-29T02:46:00.002+08:00

Nothing is more powerful than the will to live. This is what 127 hours is about. It is a survival tale of a man trapped in an isolated canyon in Utah when a rock fell and crushed his arm against the boulder walls and who ultimately made it out 6 days later with sheer determination. 127 hours marks another remarkable feat by Academy Award Winner director Danny Boyle, best known for his 2008 critically acclaimed heavyweight Slumdog Millionaire.

The film takes off at a dizzying fast pace with random montages of spectators in large sporting events, people hustling and bustling in their lives, leaky faucets, the film's protagonist Aron Ralston (played to pitch perfection by James Franco) packing in a haste and others in a split screen which initially struck out as erratic but are anything but random as they fall into pieces towards the end. The film wastes no time in diving straight to the plot as twenty minutes into the movie, the action begins when paradoxically Aron becomes entrapped.

The next 127 hours (remaining 74 minutes of screen time) chronicles his deteriorating physical conditions and psyche ranging from denial (this is insane), frustration, longing, acceptance and finally the surge of willpower after having a premonition which prompted him to make the hardest decision he's ever made that led to his survival. Like any good piece of cinematic art, the performance of the actors are central to the integrity of the film. And here, James Franco delivers the most riveting performance of his career that solidified him as an immensely talented and serious actor in Hollywood. The film is essentially a one man show with the supporting cast appearing in early parts of the movie and in his flashbacks but we never get bored with Franco. Every facial expression showed his defeat and waning exhaustion with genuine emotions while his resourcefulness and self parodying moments are huge likability factors. However, it is his epiphanies through the life and death situation in which he came to recall what is important in his life that truly made a connection.

The clever uses of Boyle's signature psychedelic flashbacks and hallucinations are brilliantly interwoven into and seamlessly edited in the film which provided an in-depth character development as well as heightened our senses on Aron's desires. The multiple camera angles are explored and utilized in every possible way to fully capture Aron's predicament yet not make the audience feel claustrophobic although shot in a very narrow and contained space. The cinematography is visually stunning as we get landscape and aerial views of the canyons in its full glory. Its amazing how nature can make us feel so miniscule while we enthrall in its beauty. The CGI effects are outstanding at the torrential storm scene but most importantly, the epic score by A.R Rahman stole the show for me. The dark and urgent pounding of tribal beats and the pull of a string instrument when Aron struck a nerve (literally) is most effective but it is the spiritually uplifting music at the end of the movie when Aron is rescued that conveys the gratuitous feelings of being alive in all of us.

127 hours is extremely emotional, captivating, spectacular, stylistic and story telling at its best. It is a not to be missed movie of the year that stands out above the rest and is in a class of its own. Rating 10/10

Quote

"You know, I've been thinking. Everything is... just comes together. It's me. I chose this. I chose all this. This rock... this rock has been waiting for me my entire life. It's entire life, ever since it was a bit of meteorite a million, billion years ago. In space. It's been waiting, to come here. Right, right here. I've been moving towards it my entire life. The minute I was born, every breath that I've taken, every action has been leading me to this crack on the out surface"

The Tourist

2011-01-23T03:17:00.001+08:00

Not bad but not great either

Being a die hard fan of Johnny Depp, I could barely contain my excitement when I walked into the theater to catch The Tourist despite knowing the film was thrashed by critics. The appeal of the first time screen collaboration of two of the world's biggest A-list stars (their combined mega wattage could light an entire city) was too hard to pass on.

The Tourist is classified as action, drama, thriller, comedy and romance. Many movies have found success with the fusion of genres but in this case, it seems like an unnecessary hodgepodge that rendered the underdevelopment of the movie itself. Although not a major downfall, but it left me feeling there is more to be desired. The plot of the movie is straightforward although there are many loopholes that could have crippled the movie in itself but are often overlooked in the beautiful scenery (excellent cinematography) and in the face of its stars. In fact, the supposedly clever twist at the end is cliched and makes no sense in the play out of the story. At 103 minutes, it is not a long movie. It moves at a pace that is neither too fast nor too slow and is a good ride into the journey.

Angelina Jolie is certainly ravishing (or ravenous :p) but there are just way too many scenes of her walking into a room in slow motion where all heads turned to look at her as though she was in a perfume commercial. The nauseating, eye-rolling inducing overemphasis on her ethereal beauty made her surreal and hence difficult to relate to, not to mention did nothing to building her character. I suspect director Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck created those scenes in hopes that the audience would be so spellbound by her beauty and not notice the contrived acting and dialogue.

Johnny Depp is without doubt, one of the most sought after and versatile actors in Hollywood known for his quirky roles but in The Tourist, he looked dull (how is this even possible) and somewhat downplayed, despite being one of the two leads. His character injected most of the much needed comic relief in the movie and maybe it was just me, but there were traces of Captain Jack Sparrow in the funny scenes. I have to admit, I was surprised he was nominated for a Golden Globe for his role in the movie because although charming and absolutely lovable as he always is, it was not an award worthy performance.

The biggest problem of the movie is perhaps these two megastars cannot share the limelight together. Putting Jolie and Depp in a movie together sounded like a genius plan hatched but instead of turning the movie into a golden goose, the film suffered at its own advertising of their stars. Both Jolie and Depp are extremely strong characters that can carry a movie on their own but together, it was a train wreck. It felt awkward watching them kiss. It almost felt incestuous. There is more chemistry between two rocks than between Jolie and Depp. One friend commented that Jolie never had chemistry with her co-stars but I pointed out her excellent chemistry with Brad Pitt in Mr and Mrs. Smith and my friend reminded me of what came out of the movie (poor Jen, I am still on her team) but I digress.

The Tourist does not attempt to set itself apart from mainstream movies nor claim to be an intelligent movie. It does however, boast two of the world's biggest stars (you would not want to miss it if you are fans of Jolie and/or Depp), great supporting cast, breathtaking scenery (European tourism is set to boost after this) and simple, mindless fun. It is not as bad as people say, there were plenty of laughs in the cinema. Go watch with no expectations and you might be rewarded. Besides, there are far worse things to do on Saturday night. Rating 6/10

Dimples of Venus

2010-01-31T03:49:00.003+08:00

I love dimples and I mean, I LOVE dimples. I remember being totally enchanted by Soong Ai Ling in the 1990's De Beers Commercial because of those deep lovely dimples. I am simply drawn to them. In fact, what made me first set eyes on my ex boyfriend were his dimples :). I love them so much that at one passing phase in my life, I would suck the insides of my cheek day and night just to make my very shy and obscure dimple on the right cheek stand out more. Then one day, I found out about back dimples.

The dimples of Venus (also known as back dimples) are sagittally symmetrical indentations sometimes visible on the human lower back, just superior to the gluteal cleft. They are directly superficial to the two sacroiliac joints, the sites where the sacrum attaches to the ilium of the pelvis.Dimples of Venus are often considered a sexually desirable feature. The dimples are more common in women than men and are rare overall (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dimples_of_Venus)

Sexually desirable? HELL YEA.

Apparently I have them :)

Guess I am one rare sexy beast. Rawrrrrrrrrrrrr :)

Crazy Dreams

2010-01-30T03:03:00.005+08:00

I usually like to dream. Every night when I close my eyes, I know that I am in for an adventure beyond my wildest imaginations but this madness has to stop. I have been having totally strange, bizarre and disturbing dreams for three nights in a row now.

First night. I was out walking in a dark alley with my sister and all of a sudden she swelled up to the size of a balloon and it hit me that she was heavily pregnant. And she started screaming in pain as she went into labor and I spiraled into a full panic mode as there was no one else in the alley and there were no means of transportation anywhere to be seen. And as the bizarre dream would unfold, a wheelchair conjured itself out of thin air, waiting at the sidewalk. So, plopping my sis and her big fat belly onto the wheelchair, I started running and wheeling her to the nearest hospital. Weird.

Second night. I was having Nandos (yup, even in my dreams :P). Then the scene changed. I was in some sort of fantasy land with my sis (again, hmmm) and there was a fog filled rock mountain which we had to climb up to get to the fantasy land but there was a reptilian monster in the deep pit. It looked almost like a greyish black slimy dragon minus the wings and scales. Still, it was scary. Then change of scenery again. Suddenly I was in the streets of Paris with my sister and her friend Xavier (whom I have never met in real life). And Xavier disclosed to us that he had a deal with the Devil and that his time was up and that he would die today. And he started running away from us so we wouldn't have to see him die and I ran after him to stop him. Then all of a sudden I was in the washroom of an old Chinese temple in the streets of Paris and Xavier somehow swapped bodies with me using black magic or whatever then I died (what the hell, right). So, as my soul lingered over my dead body, I watched my body decomposed into a bag of RICE (YES! UNCOOKED RICE!) and then there was a gust of wind and my poor soul had to scramble around to contain the rice (or pieces of me). Even weirder than the first night.

Last night. Someone threw acid in my face and I watched my face dissolve though I have no clue who the attacker was. Ok, this was plain disturbing.

No wonder people think I am nuts.

Go on. Take your shot at analyzing my dreams. Just so you know, I am not crazy, my mother had me tested.

What a bloody prick (literally)

2010-01-04T00:19:00.005+08:00

In the past week, I had woken with long red scratches on my legs, much to my puzzlement. On some days, they looked pretty bad, almost resembling jellyfish stings. Generally, I consider myself a good sleeper (despite the occasional snoring and sleep paralysis episodes). I don't toss and turn, I take up a relatively small space and I almost always sleep through the night.

I couldn't figure out what was causing these strange scratches. It wasn't the evil sister attacking me in the middle of the night (who is incidentally the most obnoxious sleeper I know in existence. Snoring/talking/teeth grinding/doing yoga poses on the bed in her sleep are nothing new to me and of course, the more annoying habit of pulling my covers and pillows from me and holding onto them for dear life : P

So, the evil sis was ruled out. There were no broken springs in the mattress either or foreign objects anywhere visibly seen nor alien jellyfishes under my bed. I was perplexed.

Then as I was lying in bed this afternoon, with my head rested on my bolster and contemplating nothing when I felt a prick on the back of my head. So I bolted up and tore open the bolster and feverishly rummaged around until I found that tiny little silver needle peeking back at me, mocking me while nestled contentedly in the many wads and layers of cotton in my bolster. Hmmph.

So it seems that I had lost a needle on my bed a few months ago while I was mending my holey pants : p and sneaky it was that it crept its way in there! Well done needle! Or well done me seeing that I am actually the cause of the whole pricking business? : p

There there, bear bear

2009-07-28T01:12:00.016+08:00

I made my 8 year old stepsister cry the other day. And it upset me tremendously seeing her weep like that. It was all my fault and I take full responsibility for it.

You see, dad's girlfriend and 2 daughters moved in with us last month and although I welcome them fully with a happy heart and sincerely see them as family, I also look back at my privacy with nostalgia now. Gone are the days of enjoyed solitude, of personal bliss. My room, my sanctuary, my haven of meditation, contemplation and inspiration, my safety port from the world and its volatility has been 'infiltrated' with the constant presence of childish laughter, innocence and acts of rummaging through my belongings. Don't get me wrong, I love my stepsisters-to-be but I am a creature of habit and I am fiercely protective of the privacy and the little me time that I have.

So, they were at it again the other day and I was feeling frustrated as I really wanted to clear some thoughts. And so I playfully hoisted her over my shoulder and 'threw' her out of the room but she came back laughing, wanting more. And a moment of sheer brilliance came to me. I ran into her room, took her favorite teddy bear and flung it down the stairs to see her chasing after it.

The victim, bear bear

The scene of crime

This is how it looked

I thought she was laughing at first until I felt something was not quite right. It was then I realized she was standing at the bottom of the stairs, clutching to the bear and crying and guilt overwhelmed me like waves washing over the shores. The level of guilt I felt was not dissimilar to as if I had just murdered a child. I had intended it as a playful act but then I remembered Kafin.

I had a teddy bear named Kafin when I was 9. I named it Kafin Lim Jia Shin (if you are wondering about the last name, that would be the last name of the boy I had a crush on then and thought I'd marry him) and I loved it unconditionally. Kafin and I were inseparable. I would go to school missing it and I would come home and run to it first thing afraid that my maid had thrown it out or that it had missed me or was 'hungry'. I never had imaginary friends but I saw Kafin as more than a bear. Kafin was my best friend and my 'daughter' and I took pride in taking care of her. I would buy clothes for her and would talk to Kafin everyday (with me mimicking a high pitched voice as that of Kafin's voice). Kinda creepy now that I think of it. It is almost like Norman Bates and 'Mother' :P

And, my brother had a very naughty habit of bullying my toys, especially Kafin. He knew how much I loved it and it gave him morbid pleasure in torturing it. I would cry hours whenever he punched Kafin or thrashed her around. I remember once he accidentally stained her with some yellow antibacterial cream and I couldn't stop crying, thinking that my precious Kafin being no longer snowy white was the biggest injustice I had ever known.

Eventually I outgrew Kafin, just like any adult would outgrow their toys. But the episode with my stepsister brought back memories of it and I do not think her childish attachment with her bear is silly because I know firsthand how genuine that love could be, even for a teddy bear. So, I am really really sorry, my little sister. I won't bully your bear anymore, I promise. See how much fun bear bear and I are having? :)

S+S

2009-07-26T02:04:00.006+08:00

It is finally over. Tonight was the last night of the Week 1 dance performances at the Short + Sweet Dance Malaysia 2009. The Festival is a hub for creative Malaysians to showcase their talents in a highly creative, collaborative and professional environment and each showcase has to be well under ten minutes to fit the description of Short + Sweet. I have been very fortunate to have been included in the line up for choreographers for the festival this year and I premiered my debut choreography project titled 'Follow/Lead'.

I will write more about my piece in my next post as I would just like to thank everyone that's been involved in the festival to make it such a success. Big thanks and all my love to my wonderful and amazingly talented dancers, Pippy, Amanda and Hua Hooi. You guys inspire me to be a better dancer, choreographer and person and I couldn't have done it without you all. Each and every one of you are so unique and talented in so many ways and your stars are shining bright. It has been my utmost pleasure working with all of you and I hope there will be more opportunities for us to work together in the future.

Big big heartfelt thanks to the stage manager, Michelle and her assistant, Avril for being ever so tolerant about us showing up late and for making sure not one hair is out of place in the running of the whole show.You guys are the life and blood of S+S, what would we do without you? Also, huge kudos to all backstage crew and the production team as well. The lighting was superb and brought new dimensions to my piece. It was better than I could have ever imagined.

Admittedly, I got cold feet when I saw the line up of choreographers. I recognized more than half the names as they are big names in the industry, people whose work I have seen and admired. And, there I was, a newbie, a rookie and a relatively unheard of name in the industry. I am not armed with any decorative dance degrees nor have extensive experience in choreography. In fact, this was my debut choreography on a professional production level.

I chose to choreograph a contemporary dance piece for the festival, but truth is, I am not trained in contemporary dance and neither are my dancers. But, this piece had enabled us to further explore and understand how our bodies move and along the way, surprised ourselves with the new heights that we reached. Some people felt my piece was a little short, being only 4 minutes and 40 seconds long. But, we only had four hours of rehearsals ( 4 x 1 hour sessions) before the observation rehearsal on Thursday and I don't know about you, but the professionalism and standard of dance my dancers showed in the piece just after four hours of rehearsals was nothing short of impressive to me.

Truthfully, I couldn't have asked for more. I am pleased that I am off to a good start in trying a hand at choreographing and I am even more pleased with my dancers and also with how the music, lighting, costumes, make up all gelled together to bring my artistic visions alive on stage which is a thousand times better than I had envisioned.

And a BIG BIG BIG BIG BIG thank you to those who came. To my sister, Audra, Joyce and 2 daughters, Ling Feng, Jing Feng, Bee, Aunt Hong, Brandon, Max, Enid, Haw Linn, Lara, Zukhairi, Patrick, Pat Ibrahim, Chee Wei, Cheng Choo, Jessica, Ching Lin, Alfred, Suhaili, Regina, Janice etc etc (sorry if I missed out your name)...but thank you a million years for coming! It meant a great deal to me. Love you all! So, thank you, thank you and thank you. And you will be seeing my face and hearing my name more from now.

Two funerals and (0) weddings

2009-02-22T20:43:00.003+08:00

I woke in the dark, disoriented and let the darkness momentarily blind and engulf me. It was dinner time and I could hear dishes clanging and chairs pulling downstairs but I lay still. I allowed the realization to set in and contemplated the overwhelming hollowness, the intertwined new and old pain searing in my heart, the importance of families, the fragility of life and come what may after. I miss her. I miss my mum. I miss her violently.

Grandma's funeral was grand. Many came to pay their last respects and as with all funerals, it was heart wrenching. I was prepared to let Grandma go, I had accepted mortality in its full force few years ago. But what I was not prepared for was how much it brought me back to her.

I felt the stab in my heart when I saw my mum's name bracketed on the obituary notice which denotes the person is deceased. I was mum's representative as it is the daughter's duty to last pull the drape over the mother's body before the closing of the casket and my tears poured. There is nothing more beautiful than the mother-daughter bond in this world. I love my mum and she loved her mum and I love Grandma and we are all daughters of love in this fleeting cycle of life.

I saw them so clearly in my mind. Mum and grandma. I saw every wrinkle and twinkle and I heard their interacting voices, every dent of intonation, every nuance of expression and I imagined their voices floating away, like an echo fading. I could not hold it anymore. Will I ever stop missing them?

My mum's sister spoke of how their hearts were bleeding at mum's funeral. She was wrong about mine. My heart was hemorrhaging. I was in so much pain that my heart was physically aching. Every breath I took was sharp to the lungs and I remember dying inside when they closed mum's casket. The sealing of the casket is a most traumatizing experience for the living. Every nail knocked in is a hammer of the steel truth of life; into the heart of loved ones, sealing into it a sense of finality, of an eternity of separation beyond life.

Mum, I miss you miss you miss you. I wish you knew how much I love you. I never brought myself to say those three words to you and when I finally did, you have already drifted halfway. I was too late. I really want you to know that I love you and that being your daughter is the biggest and proudest achievement in my life. Rest in peace, mum. Rest in peace, popo. I will forever be your loving daughter and granddaughter.

R.I.P, Grandma

2009-02-21T21:38:00.007+08:00

How ironic is that my previous post is about the celebration of the joys of birth and life while this post will be about my grandma's departure from life.

Grandma left us at 3:30pm on the 19th February 2009 at the age of 91. We had prepared ourselves for the inevitable as her health had been drastically deteriorating in the past few years and have been bedridden for a while. She had suffered from multiple stroke attacks and her organs collapsed and lost their functions one after another. Grandma fought a long hard battle and letting her go was love and mercy on the part of those who loved her and are proud of her.

I am anguished at how little I know of grandma. All I know about her is that she was born during the first world war in 1918 in dapu county, guangdong province, China and was sold to my grandpa's family at the age of 13 as a child bride. She married grandpa at the age of 16 and had 5 remarkable children and many grandchildren and great grandchildren.

After losing her husband, my grandpa at the age of 76, she went to live with her children and traveled to many countries with them. She went to Perth with us in 1994 and I remember her going in the adventure park too, which of course she couldn't go on any rides. But she did go on one of those slow, crawling monorails

Grandma had all the traits of a Hakka woman. Fierce, independent and strong. From my mother's childhood stories, I learned that Grandma was a strict parent, almost authoritarian and was relentless and fiercely protective in the upbringing of her children, wanting the best for them. She did however, raise her children well despite the lack of formal education herself. All her children turned out successful in life and came to love and respect her and took great care of her until the last moment. She couldn't have hoped for better children.

Grandma cooked the best authentic Hakka cuisine which we all looked forward to every Chinese New Year. From my childhood memories, Grandma visited us frequently as we lived a walking distance away. And she would always come to our place after squabbling with grandpa and she never once failed to bring me and my siblings a pack of Ligo's raisins. Until today, we would think of Grandma whenever we see ligo's raisins on the supermarket shelf.

Grandma and mum conversed in Hakka and somehow, I understood the dialect without ever picking it up. And I would smile to myself whenever Grandma asked mum if we had been good and of course we were . Mum, being the ever filial daughter would insist on giving grandma her monthly allowance and grandma would insist on not taking it. So, the war would begin and me and sis would look at the ang pow being forcefully shoved from one to another. Most often, sis and I would just sit back, amused and watch them do their mother-daughter thing. Of course, it would always end up mum winning and the ang pow would end up in the unhappy hands of grandma.

Grandma would accept the ang pow very reluctantly but she had her ways of putting it back into the 'economy'. You see, besides good old Ligo's raisins, Grandma would give us ang pows whenever she came to stay with us. So, it wasn't hard to imagine how delighted we were to have her stay over (yes, we were greedy greedy children) Compared to mum, sis and I were a lot less subtle, we would say 'aiya, no need la, no need la you keep for yourself la' while already pocketing it

Then we moved to our new place in Klang and saw less of Grandma. But, she would come stay with us for a period of time once in a while. Sis and I would take turns giving up our beds for grandma and sleep on the mattress on the floor. And how often we laughed when grandma break wind during her sleep (it became our inside joke after a while). Our other inside joke was that we would both stand by each side of grandma and hoist her up from the underarms so that we could walk faster and not have to wait for grandma with her slow footsteps (we NEVER did that, don't worry). More often, me and sis would mock grandma's long winded tendencies. She would repeat the same thing not once, not twice, but up to five times (which we likened to a broken record playing over and over again) and we would end up laughing hysterically as we finished her sentences for her since we already knew what she was about to say.

Whenever grandma called on the phone for mum, her first words were always her trademark LOUD 'EH, WHO ARE YOU?' and we would have to spend the next ten minutes explaining who we were and our relation to our mum and sometimes we were so naughty that we would mess with her. Although we often amused ourselves with grandma's antics, we actually enjoyed having her around and always invited her to come stay again. We would always be by her side holding her hands while crossing the roads or walking down the stairs even though her jelly like wrinkled hand felt very geli in mine

Admittedly, we spent less time with her as we grew older, with more of life demanding commitments from us. (Grandma was also the one who funded my tertiary education which I could never fully express the depth of my gratitude in my lifetime). I was especially reluctant to see her after mum's passing as we kept it from her (Grandma got really upset and had a stroke after learning her other daughter, my aunt had a stroke and we decided it was for the best to keep the tragic news from her). Often, she would ask about my mum and it would pain me to see how much she missed her daughter and how she longed to see her again.

I am sad about grandma's departure but also relieved that her sufferings had come to an end. I believe she is in a better place now and reunited with grandpa and mum. I feel there is nothing to be too sad about because she had a good, long 91 years on earth and had great children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. She had great stories, had traveled the world and had loved and been loved. She was a remarkable woman, she was

Rest in peace, grandma. You will be remembered forever.

The gene of goodness

2009-02-17T00:56:00.017+08:00

It is a known fact among my friends that I have never had much maternal instincts. I was even infamously quoted saying "I prefer puppies over babies anytime any day" and "I'd sterilize my future husband before marriage" Now, before you psycho people start analyzing my relationship with my mother, let me tell you that I had the world's greatest relationship with the world's greatest mum (she is no longer with us and there's not a single day in my life that I don't miss her). And it is neither that I have bad experiences with babies, its just that I don't think I have in me the capacity and patience to care for and love a ~~crying/pooping machine~~ baby. And, I was so often put off by the rush of female affection and attention whenever a baby is in presence. I would cringe when all the other females fuss and coo over something which I clearly couldn't see what the fuss was about. To me, they were just crying/pooping/milk vomiting/screaming miniature humans who couldn't understand a word I was saying and to communicate with them, I would have to condescend myself to ooh ooh ah ah in my nauseating baby voice. And the females with their overflowing estrogen were just a silly act to me , seeing them pull out every trick they've got just to see the baby smile.

But of late, I found myself talking about my baby niece to anyone who would care to listen, even imposing in some manners . I found myself looking at her pictures all the time and smiling to myself at the thought of her baby antics.

My baby niece, Qian Qian is almost 5 months old now (she was born on the 23rd September 2008, a Libran just like me). And is the cutest little thing in the world. She gets her big eyes and round cheeks from her father and has the pudgiest little arms and legs. She has this constant quizzical look and makes the cutest, unintelligible sounds that brings a smile to my face every time. She is moody as she'd look at me and give me her toothless smile (sometimes she even scoffs with a loud HA! before turning away to hide her face) and the next minute, she'd frown and threaten to cry, then its back to smiling again.

See the quizzical look?

She is often restless and kicks her legs so strongly and we'd tease that another dancer has been born in the family. You wait, baby Qian Qian, Aunt Viv shall personally train you to be the world's best dancer/gymnast when you are older. When she's lying on her back, my sis in law would say turn and she would somehow understand and start rolling from side to side (she's quite fast now). Last week, we even put her in the baby pool (which I use for sunbathing in my backyard) which she enjoyed so much and was giggling and kicking her legs in the water. So, I am getting her one.

And when I look at people fussing and cooing over her, I feel only a swell of pride that people love and adore her. Sis in law and even dad would put on their baby voices to play with her and in a bizarre way, watching them do so makes me love them even more. I suppose having a baby in the family does change and bring people together.

Handsome Daddy

Beautiful Mommy

Cutesy Pie Qian Qian

People often say I look like my brother

And since Qian Qian looks like her daddy...

Does that mean she looks like me?

Yes, mock all you want but I LOVE my baby niece . Guess the baby hater is taking a break although as of now, I still don't want to have my own babies but who knows? I have just taken a big step from hating babies to loving my baby niece unconditionally.

Welcome to the family, baby Qian and I am going to be the most kick ass aunt ever!

Viv's V day

2009-02-14T23:41:00.017+08:00

Dont wanna be
All by myself anymore
All by myself
Dont wanna live
All by myself anymore...

Yes, I AM all by myself on the world's biggest day on love celebration (NOTHING's wrong with me, dammit). Cupid just got killed from my love force field, that's all.

Now that I come to think of it, I have never celebrated V-day in style, you know, teddy bears, rose bouquets, heart shaped chocolates, declaration of undying love and devotion, sexy lingerie and whatever comes after *blush blush*

Anyway, I DID receive a rose and a love letter and it was a very meaningful gesture to me.

This is what it says,

Happy Valentine's Day!

Dear Teacher Vivian,

It is really funny when you say 'Come here professional' and when you call me for something and I cannot do it but somebody else can and you will say 'looks like the pro cannot do it'. Hope today our class will be good and will be fun. I hope your valentine's day will be fun and loving.

Sincerely,

'The Pro'
Natashia

That was from my 9 year old gymnast and this came with it

And I bought myself a giant block of Cadbury Chocolate to munch on while blogging this. So there you go, I did have chocolates, a love letter and a rose on Valentine's day

Twilight

2009-01-29T23:52:00.037+08:00

First of, I am no film critic. I know no aspect of film making, none whatsoever and will therefore be writing this review from the perspective of a regular movie goer. So, pardon the very amateurish tone. Second, I understand and respect that everyone is entitled to their opinions. So, Twilight fans, please do NOT bash me or send me hate mails (it will hurt my feelings). Most importantly, please DO NOT DO NOT DO NOT throw blood bags at me or my house.

So, let's get started. I am a vampire fan. So, I was naturally thrilled when I first got my hands on Stephenie Meyer's Twilight novel and that was way before the movie came out. Halfway through the book, I felt it was too easy a read, almost a mindless read that one would pick before going to bed on an exhausted evening. The plot is self serving, single dimensional and lacked the potential to suspend my interest nor fire up my imagination. Some said the author was trying to make the books children friendly and if so, she really did deliver a very watered down fiction of vampire lore. I don't know about you but I like my evil, bloodthirsty, human hunting, fanged vampires that come out at nightfall and burn to ashes at dawn just fine (P/S, I will never forgive Meyer for making vampires sparkle under the sun).

But, it wasn't so much the plot that put me off. Personally, the writing, more specifically the characters' dialogue was downright painful to digest. My eyes were rolled all the way in my head until you could see all my eye whites. I get that it's a teen read, which explains all the teenage angst and the whole hormonally fueled I-want-you-and-I-can't-have-you-but-I-can't-stay-away-from-you-anymore push-pulls("If you were smart, you'd stay away from me" or "I don't have the strength to stay away from you anymore". Seriously? It might help if you didn't keep stalking Bella and messing the poor girl's head, Edward). But I have certainly come across better teen reads that didn't make me wanna gag every few lines. Anyway, I am not reviewing the book but the movie and I am going to stay as objective as I can.

First up, the bad.

1)The acting. Now don't get me wrong. I am a fan of Rob Pattinson. He was great as Cedric Diggory in Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire and he actually fits the bill of Edward Cullen. He is tall, BEAUTIFUL (Have I mentioned beautiful already? Oh yes), sensitive and immediately likable. His pained look and confusion hit jackpot, especially with the female viewers. However, he probably would have fared better if he was in a silent movie. The moment he opened his mouth (when he first introduced himself to Bella in the lab), I cringed bad, baby. It was awkward and pure agony to watch. Although he did immerse more in the character later on but I am afraid he did not quite make the cut of good acting in my books. And Jackson Rathbone's character, Jasper pretty much looked constipated throughout the movie which was a shame as I enjoyed his performance in Big Stan as the druggie/hippie and what can I say, he's a hottie, MEOWWWRRR.

2) Character development. I never quite liked Bella in the books and frankly, her character is about as interesting as a vegetable in the movie. I would rather watch my sprouts grow actually. At least she was witty and had good comebacks in the novels. However, I am afraid there was nothing going on for her on screen. I found myself neither interested nor sympathetic in her and her infatuation with Edward. She looked cold, bored and unmoved throughout the movie and that was exactly how I felt with her. Her blank facial expressions and monotonous voice really got to me after a while and I hate to say this, but the only time I felt something for the poor girl was when James the villain (ah yes, that's more like how I like my vampires) snapped her leg.

3)Make Up. This has gotta be the worst make up in the history of film making. I get it that they are vampires and are supposed to look ghastly pale and far from human like. I would have thought they would look marble white and translucent with an almost ethereal quality. But the vampires in the movie looked like they were hit by a sack of flour in the face. You know sometimes when I do my make up in the car, I end up looking like a baboon's ass with too much blusher on as I couldn't see how much blusher I was really putting on from the dim light in the car? I am guessing that's probably their case too when they applied the foundation a tad too liberally.

4) Editing. The transition from one scene to another were rather choppy. Usually I don't mind it, but in the movie the choppiness were hard to ignore.

5) Close ups. Close ups are vital in good film making as they provide the audience an up close and frontal view of the actor's emotions and facial expressions otherwise missed. However, in the movie, the close ups were too in your face. Many times, I felt like pushing their faces a little back into the screen so I could actually see the whole frame and background rather than count their pores or see Rob's contacts.

And then there are a few scenes which I wished Hardwicke did not throw in just for the sake of lengthening the movie. The one where Edward zoomed from one side of the car to another was so comical I had to suppress a laugh. And the one he stepped out of his silver Volvo with his cool shades with the rock music blaring and Rob flashing his Watch-me-I-am-in-love smirk (the one where you hear the collective sigh from the females in the movies)?

And what's the deal with Jacob's native Indian hair anyway? The lad's not bad looking but the hair must go.

Alright, now before you Twilight fans light your torches and put a stake through my heart or leave me under the sun to die (wait, I won't die, I'll just sparkle. Oh wait, I am not a vampire even), let me move on to the goods.

1) Backdrop. The whole setting of the film was bleak and gloomy to a perfect balance, the mood somber and well suited for the story to take place. The shooting location was well picked and showed us some amazing picturesque countryside scenes. The meadow and woods looked inviting and the cinematography was beautiful for its worth.

2) Special effects. I love the testosterone charged baseball scene, enough said. The fight between Edward and James in the ballet studio with the clever usage of mirrors were awesome and gripping.

3) Screenplay. This is rather tricky. Of all the reviews I have gone through, one mentioned that it is almost impossible to judge the screenplay positively when the books adapted from were not favored. However, I feel that Mellisa Rosenberg did a commendable job. Although some of the film's retained dialogue were totally disastrous, (The lion fell in love with the lamb????!!!! How about the analogy of vampires feeding on animals is like humans on a tofu diet which keeps you strong but you are never fully satisfied? I WANT TO KILL MYSELF, SO HELP ME), Rosenberg actually omitted MOST of the excruciating parts from the book and made the movie more bearable. So kudos to Rosenberg.

4) Cast. Ok, I know I bashed Rob and Jackson's acting earlier on, but I must say some of the other actors did a pretty decent job. Ashley Greene's Alice was perky, cute and friendly whom I can't help but take a liking to. Then there's Billy Burke who pulled off the role of a concerned, slightly socially inept dad who doesn't quite know how to show his love or act in front of his teenage daughter and her adolescent relationships. But the best cast for me has to be Cam Gigandet who well portrayed the menacing James who stops at nothing to hunt and kill. Every smirk was meaningful and well translated while every look piercing and chilling to the heart. He's one to look out for.

And last but not least, Victoria, oh Victoria. Rachelle Lefevre is that of a perfect female vampire for me. Sinfully beautiful, conniving, evil...what more can you ask? I know I am looking forward to the next movie, New Moon, because of her. Yep.

5) Soundtrack. The soundtrack is AMAZING, I must say. Have a listen at Bella's Lullaby, Clair de Lune and also Iron & Wine's Flightless Bird, American Mouth. Also, it may please you Rob Pattinson fans out there to know that he composed two songs for the movie - Let Me Sign and Don't Think. I have to say Rob is a very talented musician. All in all, I enjoy the soundtrack. Take my word, download it or buy it better still.

Another noteworthy mention is the on screen chemistry between Rob Pattinson and Kristen Stewart. I thought it believable and I am confident it will get better in the next movie and I can't wait for the magic to happen. Also, Rob impressed me with his American accent (he's English).

So, here's my two cents worth on the movie. The verdict is, just watch it with no expectations. Just sit back, relax and enjoy a movie and popcorn. Don't look too much into it, don't compare it with other vampire movies you have watched, don't compare it to the novels and you'll have a higher chance of enjoying it. I will watch this again on DVD and I will also watch the next few movies. But, if I had to rate this, I would say its a mediocre but no less entertaining movie. I give it 2 stars out of 5.

I am de-cluttering you

2009-01-25T23:10:00.016+08:00

Living in modern times like this, you would know that de-cluttering is an essential urban living practice. Face it, while all the females (and some males) out there dream of having their custom made shoe cupboard or walk-in wardrobe space, our tiny apartments simply are not built to contain our clutters.

De-cluttering simply means throwing out stuff that you have no use for anymore. You might argue that at some point in later life, you are gonna need the soap bars you made at a holiday workshop when you were 10 or the first tutu you ever wore at your dance recital. Trust me, honey. You DON'T. Besides, de-cluttering is miraculously therapeutic. You are gonna be so happy with the amount of space that resurfaced after all the de-cluttering that you'll spin yourself giddy in the middle of the room.

I know it is painful to part with items of sentimental value. But the trick is, be ruthless and do it fast, like ripping off a wax strip from your leg. That's the age old saying. No pain, no gain (no pun intended). So far, I have talked about de-cluttering on the premise of throwing out old stuff. But, what about 'friends'? What about people with flesh and blood and soul and feelings that you might hurt?

It is a known fact that we humans are creatures of comfort and highly social beings. Without the companionship of others like ourselves, we wither away in loneliness and probably end up suffering from a variety of communication anxieties. But, what about toxic friends, frenemies, people who claim to be your friend but make you feel like you are the biggest loser that walk the earth?

Everyone one needs friends. Good friends make the days seem brighter and hardships in life a tad more sufferable. Good friends make you feel good about yourself and bring out qualities in you that you didn't know you have. Good friends are there for you through thick and thin, who wholly accept and love you for who you are. But, what about so called friends who make you pretend to be someone you are not, who bring out ugly sides of you, who make you want to scream inside, who make you doubt yourself, who make you feel like you are not worthy of living?

Seeing this is the new year and how certain people's friendship to me is more detrimental than constructive, I am now de-cluttering some people from my life. If that someone who inspired me to blog this is reading, please stop imposing your ideals and lifestyle on me. I am sick of you and your narcissistic streaks and imposing manners. Please bring it elsewhere, Mr. I-Love-Myself-Too-Much. I am sorry that not everyone sees life the way you do and it certainly doesn't work when you try too hard to impose it on people. I am sorry you got the axe. Actually, on second thoughts, I am not. Cheers to friendship!

Did I just seem bitchy? Oh, whatever.

The Lost Dog Notice

2008-08-20T19:21:00.017+08:00

Spotty was born on the 4th September 1999 and went missing on the 16th November 2006 (yea, I am pretty good at memorizing dates). He was born to Yoyo and Tutu (his late mother) and was the youngest of 4 puppies. Spotty was the least likable of all his siblings. He was dark and skinny with his ribs jutting out whereas his siblings had full soft white fur and were healthy and playful (they could easily have been featured as puppies playing with a cotton ball or clean white towels in a Softlan commercial :P) Spotty was sickly looking and was constantly overshadowed by his siblings. So, it was no surprise when the other puppies were snatched up for adoption while Spotty remained (which we teased him that no one wanted him) and THANK GOD FOR THAT. (He did grow up healthy though, sturdy even)

Spotty or more amicably known as Chai Chai (means Son or Boy Boy in Cantonese) or Fei Zai (Fat Kid) or Wat Tat Lou (Awkard, gross man. Nickname courtesy of my sis) and Ah Pek, was an unconventional pet by any means. He was awkward looking, hence the nickname, with a little head with too much black fur on it that was too small to match his body. We often laughed when he lost balance and rolled down the stairs like a ball as his bum was much bigger than its head, causing him the imbalance. I can tell you, there was NOT a single day in his life where he was not affectionately jeered by my sister and I. We would call him stupid, ugly, fat, disgusting, useless and all sorts of supposedly derogatory names but in the most yuckingly sweet tone (I know, we probably have issues showing affection, LOL)

See what I meant about his big bum

Spotty was incredibly clingy and manja. He could tail you day and night and not get tired of it. Yet, he was fickle as well. He could be tailing me and if he suddenly saw mum or sis, he would run over and tail them and completely forget about me. He, being the royal spoilt dog in the family, slept in mum's bedroom and after mum's passing, in my room and sis's room. Spotty was always an early sleeper and riser. He would sleep by midnight and wake at dawn and he would jump onto your bed and start sniffing you to wake you up so you could let him out. And often,we would wake up laughing while playfully pushing him away. In fact, this is exactly why we loved him. He made us laugh everyday.

Spotty in my room

He was a good dog by many definition. He would bark incessantly whenever a stranger rings the door bell much to the annoyance of our neighbors, he never ran out of the house though he had many opportunities to do so. On the contrary, whenever the other dogs ran out and returned, Spotty would be waiting at the gate and ferociously barked at them, apprehending them and giving them a piece of his mind for running out in the first place. Dad and bro who were not too big fans of dogs, couldn't help but loved him as well. Even my Indonesian maid adored him and called him her 'sayang'(dear, darling) and Spotty would understand her when she said 'makan' (eat), or 'kencing' (go pee) and tidur (go sleep).

Spotty loved life and was full of it. If he didn't sleep in our rooms the night before, we would have to tiptoe down the stairs the next morning in case we'd set him off into a crazed frenzy. We would spot him from the corner of the stairs staring at us intently, not moving, like a wild beast eying its prey before moving in for the kill. Then we would freeze and stare back at him while trying very hard not to laugh at his intensity. Moments later, we'd break the freeze and run and of course he would go berserk. He would run and yelp and be shaking all over in excitement. And of course we were more than happy to entertain him. Sometimes we even played rough. Poor Spotty had been 'rugbied' by me where I pounced on him and tackled him to the ground and poked/tickled him. And of course, he was always at the losing end (Yea, I know I should pick on someone my own size :p). Sometimes, he would try to scare me by 'biting' me and I always let him by putting my hand in his mouth but he never bit me though. Then I would suddenly turn around and forced his paw into his mouth and clamped it shut so he could have a taste of his own medicine (Guys, do NOT imitate this at home. This is not a dog training manual. This is just one of the many crazy, unconventional things we do with a crazy, unconventional dog). There were times where I would hug him and not let go and Spotty would be struggling to break free (futile attempts, of course) until he wailed. Then I'd let go and walk off and he would come tailing after me, wanting more. This is why we always said he 'asked for it'.

The list could go on and on. There will never be enough words to convey the relationship Spotty had with all of us. He has been missing for 21 months now (He wandered out of the new house the first day we moved in and never returned) and I still have not given up hope. I miss him every single day of my life. He made me laugh and he STILL makes me laugh now whenever I reminisce at the joys he brought us.

Spotty, whether you are still alive somewhere out there or perhaps you are now by Mum's side in heaven being her ever faithful companion, I hope that in your canine understanding of the world and people, you know that we love you. You are family and you are the best dog we've ever had. Thanks for bringing so much joy into the family and you taught us compassion, love, patience and responsibility. You shall never be forgotten. You are one hell of an amazing dog, Spotty Chan Chai Chai.

Terrors of The Night

2008-08-18T18:33:00.009+08:00

It was the 25th July 2008, somewhere around 1600-1900 hrs. I was napping at the apartment after a long day of rehearsals for the finale of So You Think You Can Dance and I experienced it - Sleep Paralysis.

It was dark in the room as the curtains were drawn. I had a restless sleep and was still exhausted after the nap. I woke and to my horror, I realized I was paralyzed all over. I mustered every ounce of strength in my body to utter a word, to wiggle a pinky but was vain in attempt. I saw my roommate sleeping next to me and I attempted to call out to her. I was screaming for her attention, yet not a sound came out (I later asked if she heard me mumble in my sleep or noticed something unusual and she said no)

Amidst the confusion and petrified with cold fear, I realized I was having an episode of sleep paralysis. I vaguely remembered mum describing her experience to me many years ago and I have heard of the Chinese term '鬼壓身/鬼压身" (pinyin: guǐ yā shēn) or "鬼壓床/鬼压床" (pinyin: guǐ yā chuáng), which literally translate into "body pressured by a ghost" or "bed pressured by a ghost." However, my brain also triggered the memory of having read somewhere that it had something to do with bad sleep posture where your airway is constricted and your body starts to 'shut down' with the lack of oxygen pumping into your blood.

Despite knowing what it really was and being able to attach a scientific explanation to it, the fear persisted. Panic enveloped me and the darkness engulfed all of me. I felt I was strapped down by invisible bounds and that my vocal chord was cut off. Seconds or minutes later, though it felt like eternity, I finally broke free of it, relieved but still drowsy with sleep. So, I turned to the other side and went back to sleep, only to have it happen all over again, twice. I had experienced sleep paralysis 3 times in one nap.

When it happened, I sensed a presence in the room. I did not see, hear or smell it, but I felt a malevolent being. I checked out of the apartment after my elimination on the show and only returned 6 weeks later to prepare for the grand finale. And in that 6 weeks, my remaining housemates have reported on several occasion of supernatural encounters. My housemates CC, Sarah and Zef had claimed to experience unexplainable stuff that they do not talk about anymore. From what I was told, the occurrences got really rampant to the extent that 8TV was alerted of it and at some point, none of the girls were brave enough to be in the apartment alone and they started sleeping together in the same room.

And in the crystal clear state of mind I was in, this piece of information was not particularly helpful in calming myself. I silently prayed and asked 'it' to not harm me and that I acknowledge and respect 'it' making its presence known and I promised 'it'll have its peace back soon.

As sudden as it happened, the fear lifted and instead of sensing the malevolent being, I sensed my mum (My mum had returned to God's hands 6 years back). Again, I did not see, hear or smell her. I sensed her. You know the feeling when you are asleep and your mum quietly comes in and puts down a glass of water on your bedside table or pulls up your blanket? That's how it felt.

Then I woke up and everything seemed normal, only that I could barely explained what just happened. It was until weeks later that I researched on it and realized it was called Sleep Paralysis. Apparently, it is a very common occurrence that people all around the world have reported of and is scientifically explainable. However, in many cultures, it is tied to supernatural, psychological and religious angles.

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep_paralysis)
(http://www.castleofspirits.com/sleepparalysis.html).

Personally, I actually believe in the latter. I believe there are other beings coexisting with us (I mean surely we humans cant be so full of ourselves to believe we are the masters and only existence in the universe), on a different plane or parallel worlds. But sometimes, the universe screws up and parallels intersect. I believe 'they' mean no harm and and is merely trying to make its presence known. Actually, I don't know what to think anymore yet somehow I feel there's a forced explanation in the scientific department for it. So, do share with me if you have experienced sleep paralysis or just to share your thoughts on it.

All I know is, I really wouldn't want to experience it ever again.

So You Think You Can Dance

2008-08-04T22:31:00.002+08:00

So You Think You Can Dance Malaysia Season 2 has finally wrapped up on the 1st August 2008 after months of auditions and live shows. A new star is born (congrats to CC who happens to be my housemate :)and the season ended with a bang. I feel very honored to have been part of the top 20 contestants of the show this year but in many ways, I am also relieved that its over and it is now time to move on and search for new directions and priorities in life.

My appearance on the show was brief as I was most unfortunately, the first female contestant eliminated. Luck truly was not on my side when my partner pulled Tango out of the hat for our genre for the first week. My forte is in Ballet/Contemporary/Jazz/Lyrical/Gymnastics and I have also been trained in Salsa/Street Latin/Street Jazz and Hip Hop. Anything from the ballroom genre would have been my kryptonite and it so happened that I picked Tango when my partner and I had not even established a close connection. The differences in our physique probably even made the whole performance agonizing to watch. I accept my defeat as the performance was severely passionless, void and clumsy even.

I was devastated when I left the show. I thought I'd never be happy again. For the past two years, the only thing that kept me going in life was the hope of making it to the top 20 and I did, but it ended even before it had really sunk in. I was crushed and sad at first to leave the show and the rest then I was disappointed that I did not get to work with any of the choreographers I had been hoping to work with and that I did not get to show Malaysia what I am capable of. And after feelings of sadness and disappointment subsided, I started feeling angry at myself for screwing the best thing that has ever happened to me then I started feeling angry at everything (the music, the choreography, the audiences, the judges, the producers, the costume etc), then I started feeling guilty for being angry. And after all the emotional roller coaster which all took place within two weeks, I woke up one day and it was like poof, I went back to being normal and happy again, as if none of these has ever happened.

It has been an experience for sure. There have been ups and downs. I can't articulate the whole of my experience on the show in a blogpost. I would not say it was the most amazing experience ever nor was it a bad experience, but it was an experience and I am just grateful to have had this chapter in my life.

Second Chance

2008-03-18T01:18:00.001+08:00

I tried to sleep but failed miserably and so thought I should update this just so you all know that it is still alive. I doubt I will be getting any sleep tonight and tonight's the night when I desperately need that good rest. The audition for So You Think You Can Dance Season 2 is tomorrow. It begins in 9 hours time. Articulating how I feel exactly has become a task impossible but I will try. The days of butterflies in my stomach have long gone. Replaced is a thousand stampeding raging killer bulls in me, or a tsunami crashing to the shore. I hyperventilate and I feel dizzy. Wave after wave of panic attacks are becoming more frequent.

This is my second chance at proving my worth, at proving how wrong some people were about me, at telling my story, at letting people see for themselves what I am capable of, at conveying just how passionate I am as a dancer. This means everything to me. There is no way I can possibly tell you just how much this means to me.

I will probably be devastated in less than 24 hours and I am not prepared for it. No, I am not ready for another rejection. But, I believe it is better to have tried and failed (even more than once) than not try at all.

I count my blessings, do you?

2007-09-18T02:47:00.003+08:00

I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I look at my legs. There are scars, bruises (I get fresh ones every few days from the way I dance, the latest was from having pirouetted into the wall due to space confinement ), stubs (for I havent been bothered with the shaving and waxing lately) and what nots. My calves are humungous. My legs are ugly and inadequate (measuring from torso to ground). I have never been and never will be a leggy lass.

But I love them all the same, although they are not at all aesthetically pleasing. I love them because I am able to walk and God bless, dance. I can dance, dance and dance all night because of them. And if writing was Marquis De Sade's constant erection, as proclaimed by his honourable self, then dancing is my perpetual orgasm in life.

I love the scars and bruises on my legs because a story lies behind each and every one of it. I love them because they are testimony to a fiery and unperishable passion. I love my body simply because it materializes my piteous existence into perspective albeit a dust in the vast cosmos. I love my body simply because. And, this is not another narcissistic indulgence.

The Breakthrough

2007-09-17T23:23:00.002+08:00

I think I had just experienced my first major breakthrough in my dancing. I had a solo contemporary dance performance two nights ago (a very Mia Michaels inspired routine) choreographed to Imogen Heap's The Moment I Said It. There I was dancing and all of a sudden, I felt a surge of power and focus I never knew I had in me and I exploded. I was on fire and I was dance, dance was me. I was a tiny speck of dust in a sandstorm, I was free falling, I was spiralling out of control in a crazily calm state. I think I even had an out of body experience.

I could hear the eerie music, but it seemed distant. I knew people were clapping but I felt I was on a different planet. I felt I was dancing for nothing, but for dance itself. I felt I was dancing on another level and on that level, nothing matters.

I wish I could die like this. I wish I could die on stage after my ultimate breakthrough someday. And so I shall die peacefully and I shall be remembered for a long long time.

Just some photos of me and Sis being silly after our performance

Blogging again

2007-09-17T23:02:00.001+08:00

I started my first blog back in 2003. No one was surprised that I had finally succumbed to the lull of the cyber writing and sharing phenomenon as I had always enjoyed writing. Truth is, I did not start blogging because of my love for writing. I started blogging because I could not talk to anyone about what was going on in my mind and life during that distressful and troubled phase. My blog was my salvation at that time. It was the only thing that kept me sane and my life in order.

I took down the blog last year as I was too consumed with work and blogging became a luxury I could not afford. But I miss the times where I would sit in front of my computer, contemplating on my next blog post. I miss putting my thoughts in words. I miss blogging. So I am back!

So stay tuned for hot fresh blog posts!