MOVED
he flared his nostrils rapidly [3:46 PM]
the miseducation of the masses
Music snobs are people who pride themselves on plugging their ears to a genre of music which they personally perceive to be far superior than any other types of ear candies. My enlightenment of this social segregation occured during my freshman year as a media student, and it can be said that my learning process was rather unpleasant.
The music snobs back in those days were the Indie Rock-loving community and quite remarkably, the anti-Hip-hop sentiment flowed like blood in their veins. Rationale and maturity taught me that everyone has individual taste and a list of Likes and Don't Likes. However, what I found simply unacceptable was their penchant for expressing their notions in the most brutal fashion to me.
Music discrimination is precisely what it was. Some labelled Hip-hop as a mindless form of music consisting of nothing more than a copy-paste repetition of hard thumping beats. Some engaged in dialogues revolving around the one-sided argument of why the urban artist I was listening to sucked.
I breathe Hip-hop and I never processed their need to intentionally aggravate me. However, I do understand the root of their dislike. Macroscopic glasses shows us that mainstream Hip-hop celebrates what a conservative society often frowns upon - sex, drugs and violence. It has also bred a local community of poseurs who pride on adopting the ghetto culture.
Justifying why a rapper raps about the things that he raps about is virtually impossible. I can argue that through lyrics that paint graphic mental images, they're telling their life stories and using Hip-hop as an outlet for their tortured souls. But then again, rappers tend to oxymoronically taint their own reputations as soulful artists with their shallow sense of lyrical sensibility.
Thus I can only fall back to what I know. Hip-hop, like any other types of music, is a form of self-expression and these expressions vary from one artist to another. Hip-hop isn't just about getting the real slim shady to stand up, partying like it's your birthday, riding dirty or boldly declaring why you're hot. Hip-hop is empowering to people of varying colours and backgrounds and emphasises on strong musicality which makes it highly entertaining.
And these, my sexy brothers and sisters from different mothers, are the new generation of Hip-hop soldiers whom I hope will eradicate the ever lingering stigmas and stereotypes. These are my Hip-Hop heroes.
Miri Ben-Ari
The Hip-hop violinist from Israel who tries to break the boundaries of Hip-hop by expressing it with a classical instrument that she plays with mad skills and passion.
Ivan Koumeav
The Hip-hop dancer from Russia who is creating a new wave of dancers with his incorporation of contemporary elements into his personal aggressive style of dancing.
Timbaland
The Hip-hop producer who tries to bridge musical gaps by blending Hip-hop with the most unlikely of genres.
PEACE AND LOVE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [8:45 PM]
where did all the void deck fighters go?
miri ben-ari feat. akon - miss melody
Puvan sprained his ankle in the most unfortunate manner imaginable and went MIA for a satisfactory, lets see, half a freaking year. Our cherished hunky hero, Azhari, felt that advancing his training was too financially taxing and went MIA. Aiman bit off more than he could chew, juggling soccer and sepak takraw training and fortnightly computer and religious classes and went MIA.
Mikey lost his first fight [in a major international competition], together with his fighting spirit and replaced his boxing gloves with soccer boots. Yann has successfully completed her level two training and mustered enough courage to tell Johnny that she's done - Muay Thai is just too tough for her. As for Ben - if he comes, he comes and if he doesn't, he doesn't.
That leaves scrawny me still standing, the last of the original line-up of Marsiling Zone 3 RC Muay Thai clan. Can I make it any more obvious that this is a source of depression? Still, I don't think I want to quit Muay Thai, even after vanishing for an entire month myself.
An elbow in the face of laziness and the bitch goes down.
And Yann, please come back.
PEACE AND LOVE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [9:49 PM]
my favourite uncle
letto - sebenarnya cinta
Early this morning, four men of varying ages briefly touched on the ever lingering but resurfacing topic of global warming, the perks of modern-day technology such as internet banking, who's worth what currently in soccer, the latest happenings in the local crime scene and as always, me.
Uncle never fails to bring up my mortifying days as a pre-adolescent drama prince [so I was linguistically-gifted as a child and danced a freestyle routine to Vanilla Ice's "Ice Ice Baby"]. He likes to question my current marital status just to present himself with the perfect excuse to remind everyone about my primary school crushes. He also has this tendency of studying my physique and commenting in a disgruntled fashion about my skinny arms.
It's like having monthly sessions with a personal life and fitness coach.
PEACE AND LOVE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [12:01 AM]
my little retreat
siobhan donaghy - medevac
I captured some mesmerising sights during the onset of dusk from my uncle's HDB apartment [where grandma is recuperating]. The flat is in close proximity to the Woodlands Checkpoint and Johor-Singapore Causeway.
The drying laundry bared witness to the sunset.
The source of distant noise pollution before the break of dawn.
Malaysia is just a 1056-metre causeway away.
Imagine having a liberating jog by the sea with Malaysia in full view.
That was exactly what I did the following morning.
Photography fun subsided shortly after and this television junkie then had a dose of a different entertainment drug - sinetron, or quite plainly Indonesian drama serials. Yes, I spent my otherwise mundane Wednesday evening at my grandma's watching one sinetron after the other with Pini, the Javanese domestic helper whom we'd hired to extensively take care of grandma and someone whom I've grown rather chummy with.
I lost all faith in the good that any sinetron has to offer because the only one that Suria airs is Hikmah, in which a character named Arman (I fuck you not) is perpetually manipulated, taken advantage of and the last I watched, suffered epileptic fits while already bedridden. My uncle's television set however, has restored some of that faith.
I managed to understand the story lines merely in essence, with the translating aid of Pini. The words that poured out of their mouths sounded so alien I'm ashamed to be half-Javanese (although I thoroughly appreciated their sense of humour). But the communication barrier is truly not important because what the ears lack in comprehension the eyes rejoice in appreciation. Indonesian thespians are so motherfucking beautiful canZzZz!
The girls look like they consume, not just apply, skin whitening cream. The boys are so androgynously pretty it should be a crime.
PEACE AND LOVE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [3:11 PM]
I look so grotesque in my graduation robes and photos, it's almost as offensive as Tweedy labelling Lily Allen a "chick with a dick". But that's alright, because WE'VE OFFICIALLY FUCKING GRADUATED!
PEACE AND LOVE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [8:54 PM]
Khai turned 20 and we had loads of fun.
For the psycho stalkers, more photos can be found on my Friendster page.
PEACE AND LOVE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [10:27 PM]
airport goodbyes suck
ear candy: paolo nutini - loving you
I've been soaking gluttunously and insatiably in a sea of family love. The way certain people love big butts, I just can't deny my love towards campy family moments and I'm not mortified by these sentiments in the slighest bit. We've grieved through unpleasant situations in the past but now it's time for a surge of love profusion. I feel 10 again.
PEACE AND LOVE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [12:09 AM]
the women in my life
siobhan donaghy - iodine
My 74-year-old Grandma was admitted to the hospital for mild stroke which paralysed her right limbs. However, age seems to not have decayed her will power. She displayed potent strength and made such miraculous recovery progress that she was transferred to the hospice for physiotherapy sessions a mere week later.
Before the transporters took her away, Grandma asked her nurse to extend her caretaking services at the hospice as a way of saying thank you and apologising for spitting at her a couple of days ago. Grandma has a dysfunctional way of expressing love. I should know, she drowned me in her brand of TLC for a large part of my childhood.
My aunty surprised everyone with her arrival at five this morning, an hour before I crawled into bed upon detaching myself from the Internet. She left her family in Sydney to see Grandma, bringing with her sweet oranges from her backyard in their new home, passion fruits which Mama will serve with ice-cream in the future and white chocolates because she remembered I love them.
Mama will be leaving for another holiday/business trip tomorrow and her temporary absence will teach me to appreciate her more. I shamelessly declare that I have been exploiting our mother-son relationship because I am quite the useless yet lovable child like that.
PEACE AND LOVE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [12:16 AM]
chancery soiree
ear candy: red hot chilli peppers - snow
Watching a gourmet chef at work.
Hell hath no fury like a lesbian mutant woman scorned.
Elitist bbq get-togethers are made of these.
PEACE AND LOVE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [3:41 PM]
soundaholic
ear candy: timbaland - miscommunication
I recently replaced my Kingwood discman and Crossroads earphones, which were stolen from my locker approximately two months ago, with something significantly more gratifying. This slice of electronic sex effortlessly silences scums of society who pollute the bus and train cabins with their mindless noises.
PEACE AND LOVE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [9:17 PM]
thank you for the view from below
ear candy: modest mouse - float on
Even upon shedding my final layers of teenage youth to reveal new Man epithelium, I am still a pansy and an emotional basket case when it comes to saying the inevitable goodbyes. When one tirelessly works six days a week, eight hours a day for two and a half months (and one successfully performs ones end of a contract), detachment has its sentimental repercussions. These are my afterthoughts of an unseemingly shortlived life as a door opener.
the hotel guests
From expensively-suited Japanese businessmen who repeatedly bowed down to each other in a display of mutual respect, charmingly sweet Caucasian elderly couples with preserved zest for life to mountainously wealthy Indonesian families led by alpha ibus with heavily sprayed hair - I can safely establish that I have opened doors for all of them.
I have a mental library of nameless faces who placed a smile on my own face. These were the guests whom rendered me a breathing street directory and tourist pamphlet. These were the guests whom pinched my tummy whole-handedly, much to my horror, in appreciation of my daily service. These were the guests whom sneaked up on me for the comical relief of seeing me panic.
It was my pleasure, serving and directing you to that particular in-house restaurant or function that was specifically held at that ballroom on that particular floor that can only be assessed via that particular elevator at that particular tower.
the bellmen
A majority of the holidaying occupants of Meritus Mandarin Hotel, a five-star, oriental-inspired hotel with stunning interior architecture and decor, are walking and talking diamonds living luxurious lives. The people who serve them on the contrary, are, for the lack of a better adjective, simple.
These are the men who function on a daily basis with thoughts of earning handsome tips as supplements to last an exhausting day of transporting heavy luggages, bitch fits from uppity guests and altercations with fellow peers.
Thank you for keeping it real and showing me the rougher side of life. Thank you for taking on the temporary role of fathering and little-brothering me, regardless of your race, age and nationality. Thank you for teaching me the joy of the hunt, for I never knew that attempting to earn a tip can be that adrenaline pumping. I remember every single one of you, the manja monikers you addressed me by and all those times you made me convulse in laughter.
the guest service executives
Meritus Mandarin Ambassadors recently received media exposure on The Straits Times for continued excellence in hotel service. Think of them as the Singapore Girl hotel synonymous. I personally refer to them as The Cheongsam Dolls - beautiful women who embody intelligence and classy sexuality in their steamy scarlet cheongsams.
The Phillipino Dolls: I adore Seth for her cool confidence and passion for films. I adore Didi for her phD, stylish haircut and edgy modelling career. I adore Vivian for her warmth and roll-on-the-floor funniness. Upon rapidly chewing a piece of Fresh Maker, she claimed it tasted like Chicken Rice.
The China Dolls: I adore Vivian for her hunger to be the best. I adore Shirly for her hard work, heartbreaking earnesty, purity and innocence. I adore Sally for her blatant sense of humour, eccentric post-dinner showering habits and perpetual craving for Old Chang Kee dumplings. It still blows my mind away how she is a dead ringer for Devon Aoki.
I adore Summer for her delicate beauty and candy-like sweetness. I adore Sunny because she personifies her name so wonderfully. I will miss our ridiculous conversations that result in my unsightly outburst of laughter by the door. I will miss playing scissors-paper-stone using my feet and face with her. I will miss doing that stupid Cha-Cha-Cha dance she choreographed.
PEACE AND LOVE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [2:19 PM]
how may i assist you sir?
ear candy: imogen heap - speeding cars
I must be carrying my concierge approachability charm outside the confinement of Meritus Mandarin Hotel because even young little juvenile delinquents come to me for assistance.
While waiting for the 913 to arrive, a chinese-faced mat resonating adolescent youth, complete with prototypical blonde hair and distasteful graphic tee, conveniently settled his behind right next to where I sat. He was definitely a little too close for comfort. He kept his head down like a mortified hermit crab, ocassionally clearing his throat and spitting his germ-infested oral fluids all over the cement floor.
After some time, the young one decided to further invade my personal space of aloof dignity by opening his mouth to communicate, much to my amusement. He asked me for some spare change to ride the bus. I commented, with a hint of ridicule, on how he had been waiting at the bus stop without actual transportation money.
My fingers digged through the coin compartment of my wallet, which stored a couple of British and Australian pennies (some bellmen liked sparing me their tips that came in the form of foreign currency) and managed to find one 10 cent coin. I told him that was all I had and passed it to him. Before boarding the bus, the funny in me was tempted to sarcastically encourage him to rob an old lady for quick money because the brother looked the part.
PEACE AND LOVE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [8:50 PM]
sunshine boy, always standing by the glass door
Living the life of a door-opener might not sound remotely appealing to most, but I have always been an advocate of garnering new life experiences, and the fact that I find this part-time job absolutely funky is evidence of such continued advocacy. Such an externalisation of this pro-sentiment is also a good indication of my sanity, but I have always been a little left of center.
Now, before I confound you any further, do yourself a favour and click on the X on the right-hand top corner of this window. I am honestly just exhausted from working a back-to-back shift and mind you, standing, opening doors, smiling and greeting guests (in that particular order) for a total of 14 hours is hardcore shit.
I am however, still high from the extremely generous tip given to each bellman, door-boy and cheongsam-clad receptionist working the 3-11pm shift on Sunday from some Bruneian royalty.
The brain juices also started flowing rapidly when a hotel guest contorted his face to communicate an expression of either pure disgust or extreme glee after screwing a hooker of a tranny. I fuck you not. And I have not even shared with you how certain old men cannot keep their hands to themselves. Shit like this can only happen to yours truly.
PEACE
p.s. a significantly more reflective journal entry is in need.
he flared his nostrils rapidly [9:53 PM]
IN RETROSPECT
Soap Opera Disclaimer: The sand of time pour seamlessly like liquid, compelled by the gravitational pull downwards to the bottom of the hourglass. Much has been left unsaid since my last departure and the progress of life finds itself undocumented, until now...
muay thai novice and amateur competition 2007
I was demanded to a) significantly improve on my fighting technique after merely two months of muay thai training, and b) lose five kilograms and oxymoronically build up my stamina and gain muscular strength at the same time, all in a time span of two weeks. And Beyonce Knowles and Janet Jackson thought they had career-oriented trials and tribulations to conquer.
I was in a prolonged state of melancholy, always staring outside through the bus window, subconciously longing to be liberated from the pressures of juggling a gruesome school timetable and an equally demanding training schedule. I even entertained the satanic thought of backing out of the fight for valid, non-pussy reasons. But somehow, I never gave up.
I jogged approximately 4.8 kilometres every morning and continued to fast even until the day of the fight. I did not win the fight ultimately, but every ounce of energy and pain I invested into the preparation was worth it.
he flared his nostrils rapidly [11:35 AM]
'Twas the night before the fight of his life.
The young man closes his eyes and prays.
He's ready.
he flared his nostrils rapidly [9:57 PM]
My virgin feet felt the alien texture of the ring floor last Saturday.
After nearly an hour of motionless monotony, punctuated by the occasional, slow progression forward (horrible day to be on the road because of the jam-causing Singapore VS Malaysia match), we finally reached the freaking East Coast. The black blanket of night, beautifully tainted with polka dots of golden street lights, had already fallen upon us by then.
My heart was restless with anxiety throughout the entire journey. My First Muay Thai brothers and I were supposed to represent Marsiling Community Centre and give a "demonstration" up in the ring. Shi Fu Johnny decided to fill us in on the change from the original 30-minute sparring plan three hours before meeting at my void deck.
But any trepidation caused by the lack of preparation, mentally or otherwise, was temporarily swept aside by the sights and sounds of the boxing ring. It was precisely the way one would imagine it to be - square, "set on a raised platform and bound around with four parallel rows of rope attached to posts at each corner of the ring" (lick my balls, but Wikipedia says it best). It was simply majestic as it glowed in white light from its central location.
Punching and kicking with iron fists and legs in the ring were the men from Hilltop Muay Thai. The sound that their kicks made when their immaculately arched and angled feet came into contact with the practice pads were thunderous, penetrating through the absurd "Rambo music" that was blasting from the speakers.
On one side of the ring was the rowdy and congested bar. Apparently it was the 27th annual event for the local biker association (or something along those margins), which explains the army of Harley Davidsons we saw at the carpark. The Muay Thai exhibition was entertainment to spice things up for the biking enthusiasts, I supposed. I suddenly felt like an animal from the zoo.
After dressing down into our boxing gear at the filthy gents (where Puvan and I nervously joked about how I still had the capacity to worry about how my hair looked when we were about to face impending doom), I proceeded to the arena to wrap the fighting cloth around my hands.
Despite my brave front, Johnny must have sensed my nervousness and helped me mummify my hands, after which he ordered us orange juice. I thanked him, and he replied, "It's okay. You all are my boys. I must take care of you". That could have possibly thawed the most frozen of hearts, what more mine.
I was the first to be sent into the ring, in all my puny-framed glory. There, I met another Shi Fu Johnny, THE legendary and ancient Johnny who trained in Thailand most of his life, the fierce Johnny who slapped Azhari around as practice.
To be continued...
he flared his nostrils rapidly [11:08 PM]
IMPOSSIBLE IS NOTHING
Wayne Umehara, Photojournalist/Photo Documentary preacher (2007):
"You're slacking off dude. And looking at your third contact sheet, fashion dude has suddenly blundered."
Johnny, Muay Thai instructor (2007):
"Mat/(Muham)Mad, I don't care. I want you to drop from 56kg to 51kg in 2 weeks time. On the morning of the fight, I'll make you go for a jog. Then, I'll lock you up in the store room because the trapped heat will make you lose weight faster. Then I'll weigh you. If you're still not 51kg, I'll make you run again, and again, and again."
Honestly, what would you do in my situation? Whine about the unfairness of life because all you did to deserve such harsh critique was try your very best? Would you entertain the thought of suicide? Because your instructor is practically killing you anyways by turning you into one anorexic bitch. Or would you simply break down and quit, just like a sad little pussy?
But that's not the shape of my heart. I'll work hard and I'll bleed for this. I still have something to prove before this is all over.
PEACE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [10:05 PM]
pull that blood out of your heart
Upon analysing my second contact sheet during our weekly Photojournalism consultation, Mr Wayne Umehera told me to dig deep into myself and not be afraid to let go. Even after numerous consecutive days of reconnaissance, I admit that it was still challenging and rather ambitious to execute a fashion shoot with a film camera in a highly uncontrollable environment such as Chinatown. But I'm even more determined to work hard and improve now. I don't want to be that aspiring photographer with potential. I want to be it.
School matters aside, the family life continues to be ridiculous and insane. Chloe and Emma just performed a slutty freestyle hip-hop routine to a song I blasted from my laptop. Those previleged enough to be present at the television area convulsed in laughter. Was that an indication of consent, mama?
PEACE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [9:00 PM]
are you ready?
the juliana theory - we made the road by walking
19. 2007. This period of my life excites me so much I can simply internally combust. The next one month will be incredibly insane but I am so pumped up for the challenges that life has lined up for me. May God bless this road of passion I walk on.
PEACE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [12:07 AM]
Working hard to graduate with a diploma in Mass Communication had always taken a toll on my social life, but this is ridiculous. And here I was with this pre-misconception that randomly generated resolutions were supposed to be inaccurate and hilariously absurd. Wtf.
|
he flared his nostrils rapidly [12:35 AM]
My pseudo Christmas celebration was pretty awesome. I actually got to look handsome (subjectively-speaking lah) in my expensive-looking shirts from Salvation Army.
I attended a Christmas concert at Changi Baptist Church to show support for Shila's solo performance. Yes, my constant pleading to hear her sing was finally rewarded upon hearing her great, rock-soul rendition of "Undo Me". My only lament is her choice of not executing any of the suggestions that Yi Han and I creatively thought of in performing such a provocatively-titled song. Oh well...
Sasa Maria also sent out invitations for a Christmas celebration over at her place, to which I gleefully accepted. The food at her place was GLORIOUS! My tongue was experiencing extreme gratification as it slowly savoured the tastes and textures of roasted beef, turkey and home-made spaghetti.
After my tummy was satisfactorily fed, I decided to emulsify the fats by trying on the uZap, an oscillating massage belt from OSIM. Syed increased the vibration level to maximum speed and the belt began vibrating so violently that my manhood regions started to shake non-stop. I lifted the belt higher before...
We all then pondered about Syed's level of intelligence as he wore the belt around his head. The jackass sat in silent agony with his hands on his head for a good five minutes after that. That's karma for your horrendous premonitions using the Magic 8 ball.
PEACE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [5:19 PM]
People can be very disappointing. The disappointment three-folds when the person is a friend. I sat quietly in that corner, amused by how a friend can be rather tactless. Whatever it is, I'll be extra gung-ho for my third Muay Thai session tonight.
he flared his nostrils rapidly [2:12 PM]
i suggest eight-day weeks, three-day weekends
roisin murphy - ramalama bang bang
I burnt my weekend away shooting Crossroad's documentary. While Saturday was spent recording primarily B-Roll footages and waiting for long moments at the bus stop due to bad weather (it was raining while the bright sun was still lingering up in the sky), Sunday's progress proved to be substantially more gratifying.
The dialogue between Liyana and her mum was extremely intense and made for great cinematographic material. That, plus Ms Jenny's contrasting pro-poly eduation comments creates great dynamics and provides an overall balanced outlook on our topic. I sincerely hope that my camera work doesn't disappoint. Keeping my fingers crossed until all the footages have been digitised.
Lydia, Wei Shan and Zhi Xin, working with the three of you have been incredibly fun and I hope that things continue to go smoothly from here.
School matters aside, the day of reckoning finally made its arrival. The Pre-Enlistee Medical Examination took place last Friday and it was part hilarious, part dread and overall awesome.
The highlights of the check-up, not in chronological order, was meeting Ajit at the locker key dispensing counter (it was nice to see that secondary school gangster of a god-brother looked all macho in uniform), being ordered to pull down my shorts and boxer-briefs for my manhood inspection, stimulating my senses by flipping through kinky spreads in FHM and being told that my urine possesses blood content.
However, even in the midst of an insane schedule, we still made time for Rett's birthday celebration and played "Werewolves" at an arabic-themed restaurant in Arab Street. If you're reading this, I love you tahu busok!
PEACE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [1:34 AM]
uninvited
When you made your unexpected and unwanted return to this household in the dead of the night, I knew something was about to get down. You made your presence known with that all-too-familiar, distinctive stink trail which you left behind as you moved with a sense of purpose to my room. There, she lay in complete disorientation due to the lack of sugar in her system. She had most probably starved herself and refused her daily injection of insulin for you.
I was a mess, screaming and trembling in anger and psychotically pacing around in circles in the living room. I knew you wanted your nose broken but I refrained my fist from coming into contact with your face. I can only imagine the voodoo magic you had performed tonight.
he flared his nostrils rapidly [2:22 AM]
my body will feel the aftermath
My first Muay Thai session was very intense. Actually, putting into consideration how I've not done any kind of exercise since the time of the dinosaurs, the experience was leaning more towards excruciatingly painful. I'm nervously anticipating the pain that will manifest into numbness throughout my entire body tomorrow.
Nonetheless, it was incredibly fun and I realised that I'll need to put in a lot of time and energy into this. It also requires passion and an incredible amount of respect. According to my Shi Fu, you're not even allowed to sleep in Muay Thai shorts because that's just plain disrespectful! Crazy shit eh?
On a more completely driven note, I was thinking of your fucking face as i punched my fists into the air. You're all the passion and motivation I need.
PEACE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [11:03 PM]
Turning a Year Older
December Babies - Alfian & Naufal
he flared his nostrils rapidly [12:12 AM]
short boys are mahfucking sexy
My height, or the apparent lack of it, became the topic of a fruitless dialogue between a group of mats in the FMS lift today. Rather than voicing out their prejudice against vertically challenged people to my face, they chose to not practice basic courtesy and disengaged me from their conversation about my shortness. I carried the residual effect of that discussion from the moment I made my exit from the lift.
Suffering from low self-esteem because I don't have model statistics in the height department is very alienating to my nature. For that very reason, I've decided to preserve my sanity by not dwelling on this issue anymore. Besides, abusing their strength in number and sheer size to make rude references to my body profile makes them even more pussy than the respective filthy holes from which they first came out from. To make things even more ironic, they were not even that tall themselves.
PEACE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [11:13 PM]
colour splashes
Delving into film photography has been an organically wonderful learning experience. From developing my very first roll of negatives in the darkroom and printing my very first photograph (which I wish to scan and upload for your visual treat asap), I'm taking this opportunity to internalise as much as I can in this class.
That, however, means distancing myself from the familiarity and comfort of a digital camera. In fear of not spending sufficient time with Michael-Angelo, I decided to bring that sexy boy out for some recreational fun. The photo you see above is one of my favourites from the shoot and I sincerely hope you like it as much as I do!
PEACE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [10:34 PM]
My Dandy List of To-Dos
Print Journalism
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- brainstorm for story proposals & submit factsheets [tribune supplement]
Photojournalism
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Ethical Dilemma
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World Issues: Singapore Perspective
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The final academic stretch of my polytechnic education is turning my hair white [figuratively speaking, thank you very much] and I can actually feel the layer of skin folding beneath my eyes as I burn the midnight oil, completing my school projects to the future sex/love sounds of Justin Timberlake and Timbaland.
Yes my friends, I'm officially affected. I know this for a fact because the introduction to this journal entry sounds like a fucking, prototypical lead of a feature article. If Nessi Esteffa was reading this, she'd most probably be laughing her rear end off, punctuating her comical response to my sad life by abruptly shrieking "LOSER!".
But school isn't without its rewarding moments. Recently, my team had the nerve-wrecking honour of pitching our documentary proposal to the producer of Amazing Race Asia, amongst other distinguished panelists. And guess what, we won the freaking pitch! That, plus earning an A for the first documentary project with Mavis, is reassurance that I'm not an academic screw up after all.
PEACE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [12:50 AM]
nothing more than a little bruise
The experienced ones say that journalists can't afford to have bad days. I broke this unwritten, journalistic code of honour by allowing myself to dwell in utter disappointment. But thanks to this fella over here, I've managed to restore my faith in my writing capabilities. It's always rejuvenating and inspiring to see other people work as hard as you do in the name of passion.
he flared his nostrils rapidly [10:33 PM]
in the geeky zone
Before losers start bitching about the perpetual lack of updates on this journal for reasons unbeknownst to me, considering how these people never even make references to the content of my blog in our normal, everyday conversations, allow me to inform you that the updating progress will be very slow, if not stagnant.
I'm currently a journalist for a lifestyle magazine, documentary producer, photojournalist, a verbal communication scientist, a media law student and finally someone who finds himself compelled to incessantly lament about the various ethical dilemmas that seem to plague our fucked up society in this modern-day context, unless I intentionally want my teacher to tell me I'm not as vocal as he hoped I would be (bloody hell). To put it in a nutshell, I'll be fucking busy. Till the next time I tune in to this frequency, be safe and don't be naughty!
PEACE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [1:22 AM]
it's been a long time
A cold turkey withdrawal from blogging was never my intent. It began with one unfortunate incident which led to the untimely death of my IBM laptop. The next thing I knew, I was experiencing an entire series of unfortunate events. But all these unnecessary deprivations and complications no more, no more...
PEACE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [1:40 AM]
my departure from the coolest age to be
I'm re-writing, I mean, intensively re-constructing a submitted factsheet for an improved one that proposes a better feature story for Hype magazine. But as the end of another chapter of my life looms dangerously closer, I'll just need to spend some time with myself and simply reflect on the eventful past year.
Words fail to do justice really. When i was much younger, I'd lose myself in this fantasy of being 18 and being this individual possessing these ideal characteristics. 18 was just the age to be. Now that time and reality has caught up with me, I can gladly say that the ups and downs, they were all worth it. I'll miss being you 18. Thank you for everything you taught me. You were really cool, just the way i imagined being 18 would be.
Tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet?
Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day,
And head back to the Milky Way?
And tell me, did Venus blow your mind?
Was it everything you wanted to find?
And did you miss me while you were looking for yourself out there?
PEACE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [11:52 PM]
'twas the night before the first day of school
Perhaps, a father simply feels a surge of nostalgia as he reminisces about the good ol' days when he would cycle his son to school, in the child's kindergarten and lower primary schooling years. Perhaps, a father just feels this sudden and dire need to reignite that father-son relationship, which weakened with the passing of time, by making his son relive those days. Perhaps, in the context of my amusing life, my father is just downright retarded, because he has been shamelessly cycling me to the mosque almost every night for our praying sessions.
On this particular night, however, I decided to not be retarded (as fun as having your 19-year-old butt freeload on your father's bicycle), by walking there. And as I was having a dandy time, walking to the mosque, inhaling the cool nocturnal air and toxic haze, I saw a young boy hugging and twirling around one of the many pillars that supports the walkway shelter. I casually walked past him, and to my amusement, he walked alongside me. This act was followed by an even more random conversation, initiated by the little boy with big eyes and a button nose:
5-year-old-ish boy: Are you going to the mosque?
Me: Erm, yeah. (Looks around) Are you alone?
5-year-old-ish boy: Yes
Me: (Un-convinced) (Looks back) Is that your mum?
5-year-old-ish boy: Yes
Me: (Perplexed by the contradiction, but finding the boy oddly endearing)
5-year-old-ish boy: It's been a long time since I went to the mosque.
Me: Oh.
5-year-old-ish boy: My parents don't go to the mosque.
Me: (Temporary silence follows, as I didn't know exactly how to reply)
As he turned to the right while I prepared myself to jaywalk, I bade farewell, and the strange little boy replied with a well-wish of having a safe trip to the mosque. That marked the end of my rather interesting night.
Well, I've always enjoyed sharing my experiences, and this being the last night of my wonderful holidays (school starts in less than 10 hours!), I decided to go the extra mile by making this journal entry as detailed as my weary mind would allow. Who knows when I'll be free enough to cater to your reading experience, hahaha!
So it's goodbye for now. I have to wake up at 4.45am to serve the family breakfast! Don't forget to wish me luck for my first day of school, biatches!
PEACE
he flared his nostrils rapidly [12:22 AM]