Perverted Perceptions

Have you ever laughed so hard you thought you might crash the car? Well I have and we completely disintegrated into laughing fits for a few harrowing moments in the middle of the road. The argument (well…laughing argument) was how many women the main protagonist in the film we’d just watched had slept with during the course of the show. It was quite a hopeless debate because all the women looked exactly the same and forget about trying to differentiate them via names because well, Korean names all sound the same to ignorant Malaysians like us two.

But I digress.

I’ve been going to these weekly foreign film screenings and have been enjoying them so far. However the host brought up a disturbing incident with relation to the film screened the week before which was a sensitive portrayal on the issue of abortion. Apparently a viewer had admonished the host for screening a film which he thought was “pornographic”.

Hah??

I had to scoop my jaw up from off the floor upon hearing this. I can’t even begin to describe how far gone the mind of this fler must be in order to come up with that conclusion. The only way someone with half a brain could have the gall to make such a statement is if they stuffed there ears, put their fist over their eyes throughout the entire film and imagined the whole thing. It’s…*let’s out an exasperated strangled sound*.. you know what? Such an asinine comment does not deserve a rebuttal.

But the thing is, and this is the state of Malaysia today, even such baseless “criticisms” as these have the power to hurt and possibly end an entirely blameless enterprise should some self-righteous vigilantes decide to pick it up and make it their cause.

As such I worry for the future of these screenings. It would be a pity if we had to bow to the demands of a few chest-beating, close minded individuals who would have us adhere to their perverted sense of morality.

Oh yeah and my friend and I? In the end we agreed on 5…wait, or was that 4?

The Rat, The Scared and The Broomstick

Yuck, yuck, yuck, YUCK!!!

Eiyerrr, geli-nya aku!!!

It was battle royale with The Rat this morning. Can you imagine coming out of the bathroom and seeing a big fat rat crouching in the middle of your living room????!!!! Oh shit! The image of The Rat is seared in my brain…beady eyes, twitching whiskers…splattered blood…God!!! Sob!...So horrible!!

After barricading myself in the bedroom and some violent phone calls to a very amused sister (yah! easy for her to laugh when she’s far away in a rat-free office zone!)…I steel myself with the help of a broomstick to push the foul critter out since repeated volleys of “Shoo!!" and “Out! Out!...please?”, fail in budging it. (maybe it doesn’t understand English eh?)

I push and stand on the stool within inches of it cos I need to open the door to send it off and on it’s way. But no amount of yelling, banging and prodding manages to excite a response more that a shivering of the body and a feeble turning of head. By this time I’m a nervous wreck and at my wits end….Oh! God help me!! So now I try to slide it out on the mat it’s crouched on. Success! Success! It’s moving! The Rat puts it’s front paws (are they called paws?) on the balcony....then comes to a complete halt. Prodding its butt doesn’t make any difference. I’m guessing it changed its mind due to the sunlight streaming in from the balcony.

Preferring the cool of the living room, it makes an about turn amidst deafening shouts from yours truly. Haiyorr!! Sei lorr!! I hastily shut the door to the balcony and stuff the slit under the door so it can’t come back in. But anyway it couldn’t even if it wanted to COS IT'S TOO DAMN BIG!!!

I’ve never been more grateful to be at work than right now. And I’m still getting the heebie-jeebies every few minutes when the image flashes through my brain. Macam mana nak makan lunch hari ni, hah??!!!

*Shiver, shiver shiver*

So sue me for being too chicken to pick the thing up and throwing it away. It was still ALIVE for God’s sake! Now I can go thru the day knowing I have a nasty piece of business when I get home tonight. Cos I’m sure it’ll still be in the same spot, dead. Rats vomiting blood don’t tend to run far.

Oh, and The Sis? She’ll be back late tonight. Convenient huh?

It’s a conspiracy I tell you, the rats are out to get me.

A change would do me good

I woke up this morning with one clear thought in my head “I need to get a new job”.
I need, I must, I have to.

Things are going ok for me. Maybe I could go so far as to say most aspects of my life are in order (eventhough more money would be nice). But now with soo much free time on my hands (why in the world do you think I can get away with writing during office hours??!!) there’s nothing left to do but think. So I think-ed and thunk-ed till I reached this early morning’s epiphany. Which I know isn’t soo significant cause I’ve been saying it for years. (CL stop rolling your eyes)

So anyway, I get my awe-inspiring epiphany and what’s the first thing I do?
.
.
.
I blog. Sometimes my sheer brilliance astounds me.

So what am I doing now?
Continuing to blog.

*slaps forehead and tries to strangle self*
Some people are too dumb or too stubborn to learn lessons they try to teach themselves.

Change is scary. And I am scared I might actually succeed.

Parking is soo easy here (can you imagine? Even something as mundane as parking can hold me back), it’s close to where I stay, the drive is easy, and I have earned enough respect from my colleagues and superiors to have my opinions heard and (at times) heeded. In fact I’m soo firmly entrenched here that I blend in with the damn furniture.

I won’t go into why I want, need, have to, leave. I’ve recited the reasons soo many times to myself that I can say them in my sleep and I’m sick of it.

So I have this voice in my head that goes “I must, I must, I must” with varying degrees of intensity depending on how crappy my day was. I’m hoping one day (today?) it will get loud enough that I’m driven to actually do something about it.

*deep shaky breath*

Now where’s my headhunter’s phone number?

Consumerism with a capital 'C'

Noun: consumerism kun’soomu`rizum
- The theory that an increasing consumption of goods is economically beneficial
.
.
.
…they forgot to add spiritually beneficial too.

CONTENT ALERT: An adequate amount of female hormones is essential for full understanding and mutual appreciation of the following post. ;-)

Ahh….the joys of shopping!

Where do I begin?

The endless rows of gleaming merchandise. The rush you get when you pick up an absolutely divine piece that surprise! surprise! actually looks good on you and is within your budget. And if it’s on Sale, you feel like Christmas has come early.

I’m completely aware of how shallow it is to be discussing with my friends the merits of one piece of clothing over the other, or about whether a handbag is out of season, or whether the lace-up sandals look better on me as opposed to diamante slip-ons. But who knew such ‘deep’ topics of conversations could be soo endlessly interesting and refreshing? Ooo....it’s good to be a girl.

I’ve skived off work before to accompany a friend on holiday, shopping. It was all I could do to conceal my glee at the other poor miserable sods in office attire on their way to work. Shopping malls on weekdays are absolute heaven, don’t you agree? Oh wait, if you’ve never played hooky before, you wouldn’t really know would you? Hah!! Suckers!. No pushing and shoving teeming masses. No obnoxious kiddies on those roller-skating-shoe thingamajigs (What the hell are those? The inventor should be tortured to a slow painful death!) to dodge. No long queues for the changing rooms. Bliss. Best of all is the thought that while others are slaving at work, you get to go out and play! Yipee! Highly recommended, indeed.

Yeah, you guessed it, I’m going shopping this weekend. And boy, am I excited. Ha, ha! I’m not very hard to please am I?

One more thing, for those who say shopping is just another way (the others being, drinking, clubbing and other pleasurable activities) of filling the void within the soul, well please do us all a favour and go stuff yourselves!

So, when did you last have your shopping fix?

Haunting

"I can’t take my eyes of you.."

I kinda, sorta, did a review of the movie “Closer” in a previous post.
But I missed out the best part of the movie: the soundtrack, or more specifically the song “The Blower’s Daughter”, by Damian Rice.
It plays at the beginning and at the end of the movie, and I tell you, it made the movie.

Quiet
Introspective

Understated
Raw
Bleeding with emotion

And that mournful cello…ahh, that just kills me.

How do you describe a song that makes you feel like crying every single time you hear it?
Sigh, and I don’t even understand the song!

For me the measure of a great singer is not in the range of their vocals, or how many high notes or low notes they can reach, or how powerful their voice is. Rather it is in the use of a unique voice and that indefinable ability to take a song, own it, and move the listener.

The mark of this singer songwriter, in this particular song, is to be able to repeat the same line (first line of this post) soo many times throughout the song and never have it sound boring.

I’ve got Damian on repeat.

"And so it is."

To listen to the live version of Blower's Daughter: http://www.damienrice.co.uk/music.asp

(but try to take a listen to the original recording)

Moving Out, Moving In, Moving On

I’ve moved soo many times in the past 2 years that my friends have refused to take down my latest address cos they say I’ll just move again before the ink is even dry. Hrumphh!

This nomadic existence is the penalty I pay for renting which, given the circumstances, is a necessary evil.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. Sure it’s a drag, but this constant moving around ensures I don’t start sprouting mould and prevents me from being on a 1st name basis with the spiders that spin cobwebs around me. Yup!, complacent old me.
My sis is already making dire predictions of how she’ll need to prise my cold fingers from the TV remote, drag me kicking and screaming outside to air me out once in a while. (Me? a TV addict? Who said? Where got?!!)

Jokes aside, once I get through the pain (literally) of moving, I’m always gripped by a sense of excitement & endless possibility. I suppose I fancy myself quite the mini interior designer, albeit with a damnably miniscule budget. Still there’s always lotsa room for improvisation, creativity and make-do.

But aside from the obvious changes that can be made to the surroundings, personally moving also feels like a new beginning for me. I imagine I’m embarking on an adventure, and the world opening up to strange new frontiers. I suppose you could say it symbolizes hope. And who doesn’t need to be reminded of that every once in a while?


PS: And all this from moving house? Oy!

"Would you please like me too?"

Oh, woe is me.

I MISS him. We’ll technically I should say I miss seeing him, cos it’s not like we talk or anything.

He’s my brown-eyed boy (seriously, he’s got brown eyes) and he’s soo…. swoon-able. Ahem. Please excuse me while I nurse my teenage-like infatuation.

Beautiful, quite so.

Why doesn’t he talk to me already? The damn ball is in his court, so why doesn’t he fling it back??!!

Sigh.
I don’t really blame him. Truth is, chance meetings are far and few between. And I do have this misguided & uncontrollable tendency to scuttle quickly past him with nary a glance when they do present themselves.
So yeah, who could blame him?
‘sides, I’m the one that likes him, but who can tell what goes on in his head?

So this has to stop or change at least.

I do now solemnly swear (thru mightily gritted teeth) NOT to ignore or run from him again…ack!..gulp!..

Instead, I shall:

Stop,
Smile,
Say “Hi (…would you please like me too?)"

Dilemma

I can’t decide.

Should I or shouldn’t I?

I suppose it boils to what I want. And that’s the damn problem!

Urghh.


Why in the world did I start this blog anyway?

Where to begin?

(in no particular order)
1. I always wanted to write (but have always been to lazy)
2. For the fame? (I’m such an idiot)
3. For the adulation? (Idiot with a capital “I”)
4. Ego? (It’s a yes)
5. “If you can, so can I” (What an ass I am)
6. To fulfill my resolution
7. To try be honest, to tell the truth, no embellishments. (“try” being the operative word here)
8. To come out from behind the mask, to be unafraid of the judgment of others

Hence my dilemma:

Do I let my friends know about this blog?
If I do I’m afraid I’ll feel compelled to censor myself, to fit the mould they’re used to. I’m afraid I’ll be incapable of honesty. I don’t want to write with my audience in mind. I want to write driven only by my own voice.

Or do I retain my anonymity and leave it to strangers if and when they do visit?

Either way I go, I have this uncanny feeling both paths are mired with pitfalls.

Closer than you think, further than you can imagine

Watched 2 movies last nite. Back to back. Till 2am. I’m a maniac. Especially when I know full well what a zombie I’ll be like the next day. Duh.

Closer.
Being Julia.

Hmm…. Am considering whether I should do a double review, something along the lines of comparing one to the other. Or better to take it separately? I gotta stop thinking out loud, “Jackie! process in ze brain before putting it down on ze paper…and stop talking to yourself!”

Ok, focus.

I’ll take “Closer” first.

My head tells me it’s good. I was certainly entertained. By entertained I mean that it held my attention, that it was interesting. Dialogue was pretty damn brilliant; witty at times, always sharp and brutally honest. And yet, and yet, I can’t quite decide whether I like it, but then again maybe that’s irrelevant.
I think the problem lies in the fact that I could not identify with the story or any of the characters. I’m not sure whether the flaw lies in the story/actors/director or the missing piece lies in me. I do believe though, that like for everything else there’s an ideal place and time for it. What leaves you cold now, may take on a different light years down the road, when you are more ready, more whatumaycallit, primed perhaps.

Oh, damn… what in the world happened to the review? Shit.
Ok, here’s a 1 line sypnosis:
Everyone fucks everyone else and gets fucked up in the end.
And if you’re the type that absolutely must strip everything down to an all encompassing moral-of-the-story, maybe this would be a fitting one:
Love alone is not enough.
Like Clive Owen’s character says “You never understood love because you don’t understand compromise”. Umm..right. I’m still mulling over this one.

On another note, Julia Roberts and Natalie Portman are among my least favourite actresses, and this movie does not do anything to change that bias-ness. Not that they weren’t adequate enough though. Jude Law is perennially beautiful as always, but somewhat lame and ineffectual in his role. The one I did like was Clive Owens character. He was unpalatable, rough, raw, openly flawed, but redeemingly honest and therefore easiest to identify with and feel for.

Technically, I loved how the story flowed seamlessly through time. There’s sometimes a lapse of a year between 2 scenes and yet it is never jarring nor do you feel lost. It was a skillful little trick to cut out the unnecessary fluff of blissful love (of which we have soo much of in sappy romantic movies) and stick to the bare essential drama of their meetings and break-ups. Nice.

Verdict: Recommended (but only so I can discuss with others how they felt about it)

WARNING: Hopeless incurable romantics, stay away from this one, unless you fancy having nightmares of no more ‘happy-ever-afters’.

PS: Sod it. Being Julia’ll just have to wait.

Being Unbearable 101

It’s time.

I have been reading so many entertaining blogs for some time now & it’s time to contribute, to repay the debt. Though some smart alecks might reason that by joining in the fray I’m actually detracting from it rather than adding value. And to them I say, “Hah!” …for want of more intelligent repartee.

The selection of this blog title & blog address was a pain.
I mean it’s kinda like choosing a tattoo right?
Something permanent.
Something unique, a cyber-barcode so to speak.
Needs to be catchy, attention grabbing.
And most of all it needs to be “You” in a nutshell.

My choice of both fulfills, well, none of the above criteria. I basically decided it wasn’t worth agonizing over. Life’s too short to waste compartmentalizing yourself. Though on hindsight, I must admit I was leaning heavily in favour of www.WahLauEh.blogspot.com, but some 18 year old kid beat me to it, damn! You gotta admit, that name’s got a certain pizzazz to it.

So anyway, it’s Friday the 13th, May 2005 (how absolutely auspicious!), I’m giving myself a warm welcome and no, I haven’t got that tattoo yet.