i should probably never read anything remotely humorous in a public setting, because i always end up losing it. by losing it i mean being deduced to fits of hysteria that brings out my Tom Cruise laugh. last night i was reading an article by one of my favorite pop culture journalists, Chuck Klosterman entitled Three Stories Involving Pants in an outdoor area and i could not contain myself. so much so that when i looked up grinning from ear to ear, i realized some guy's eyes staring at me over the screen of his laptop across the vicinity. this almost makes me want to attempt to explain to the person what's got me so tickled.
"this guy, he's trying to shop at the Gap for some new clothes right? but he doesn't understand how to buy things, so then he buys the outfits the mannequins are wearing...," i would begin to explain, before realizing no one else probably gives a shit. it's just strange to see someone laughing themselves silly by themselves, nothing more to it. i'm just one of those people who react on literary impact though. i've teared up on crowded subways while reading, and wondered aloud, "..the hell?" in airport terminals at one of those crazy plot twists that never make any sense. the trick is to not look up and make eye contact. people judging you disrupts the flow, and you will start feeling self conscious and tell yourself to get it together, and that's not fun.
i once judged this chick in a Vassar sweatshirt who was intently reading Twilight at a train station. true story.
i can't help it. sometimes i'm a jerk.
then again, this may just be me being overly self conscious once again, so disregard everything i just wrote. unless you feel the same way, then cool.
(i wasn't trying to imply anything by stating she wore a Vassar sweatshirt while reading Twilight, it's just the only thing i remembered about her for the sake of being a little descriptive.)
this post is brought to you by my "Tom Cruise laughing face". thanks and good night.
it was brought to my attention earlier today by the kids that there exists a frozen yoghurt store ala Pinkberry right smack dab in the center of the neighborhood! at first i was like, "you lie." and then i was like, "take me to this place immediately." last time i had some of that goodness was while walking through the chilly streets of New York with my brother one night and seeing the Pinkberry sign from a block away. i told him there was no way we were leaving the next morning without trying it. so we did.
it was so good it gave me a glass eye. also, apparently my brother in law is one of those guys who keep the sticker under the rim to show how "fresh" (read : genuine) it is. either that or he doesn't know it can be peeled off, i forgot to ask. (just kidding about that last part.) (we were totally posing for the camera btw.)
i'm not the most observant person, truth be told. like when driving, i hardly pay attention to the sights around me, which is probably why i don't know about half the stores that exist in the neighborhood. i'm not as bad as my sister though. one time she sat through American Gangster in the movie theater and after the film ended i was talking about how awesome Russell Crowe is and she goes, "Russell Crowe was in that?"
later that night i saw some likable, familiar faces but felt incredibly detached. so i spent some time in a not unusual self conscious manner to wonder if it was just me being overly paranoid, but like everything else, i couldn't up with any answers.
two favorite topics i tend to frequently blog about apparently are KL dbags and Starbucks. mostly in jest though, because it's funny to me.
i currently have a splitting headache. i couldn't sleep last night, and still haven't had breakfast yet. or lunch. it's 1.09pm as i type.
anyway, Merry Christmas to everyone and have a good one. i think i'll get in my car and head over to Subway for a cheapo 6 inch Teriyaki Chicken sub.
what a boring day.
December 21, 2009
reluctantly crouched at the starting line.
now playing : Cake - The Distance
for lack of anything better to do after dinner earlier, i flipped through a free copy of the Malay Mail where i came upon this amusing article (seen above) in the letters section. i read it whilst chuckling to myself. remember this gem of accomplishment from 2006? anyway, here is a quote of some of the foreigner's spot on complaints in case you missed it :
"No one ever says thank you if you open a door, people jump queues habitually, shop and restaurant staff are rude and smart-alecky, and frequently, I feel my Uxbridge English is to blame. Also, try walking in Sungei Wang and watch as a shop assistant says "Yes" and then follows you anywhere you walk in the shop, destroying the ability to browse. Sometimes, I am almost tempted to walk in circles to make a mockery of the shop assistant."
i think it's refreshing when an outsider points out some of the flaws of a country, because at least it creates some awareness, even if just a minuscule amount. i frequently blog about my run ins with KL's rudest (that could probably be a blog on its own) and as a consequence i get some shit from people who think i'm unpatriotic, whine too much or have rage issues. really? it's just a coincidence then that most of the news reflecting Malaysia this past year has been embarrassing or just outright stupid? also, laughable.
what's worse is that those are all religion related. banning Muslims from a Black Eyed Peas concert? really? how does that contribute to the progression of a developing country? erecting really tall buildings that look cool and shit, or planting a Starbucks in all 40,000 malls here doesn't equal progression. striving to look "advanced" and "developing" on the outside yet incredibly backwards in mentality and attitude - this is a joke. the only positivity coming out of all this is probably the foreign workers here on work permits who know more about courtesy and appreciativeness than locals do because they need to send a check home every month to feed their wife and kids.
enjoy living in your "we r nt rood dis iz jst our culture kays?" bubble. also, stop typing like an asshole on Facebook. most of you have been to college, so why make yourself look like a moron?
friendly Malaysian's do exist, do not be discouraged. just the other night i was at my usual hangout spot and there was a new girl taking my order. she messed up the order and charged me an extra RM2 and i didn't realize until after studying the receipt. she stood there nervously, waiting for me to point out her obvious mistake, but i decided to shrug it off because the supervisor lurking nearby was a hardass, and she'd just screwed up the previous customers order. also, i have a soft spot for newbies who remind me of my own past blunders as a barista.
so i'm chilling in the seating section upstairs, listening to some tunes and browsing the internets when an hour later someone pulls a chair up to the table beside mine. i look up and it's the new girl on her break, holding a plate with a slice of blueberry cake sitting on it. "i bought this for you," she says, and sets the plate on my table. she sits down and we have an engaging conversation for her entire break. then she offers me a cigarette from her pack of Sampoerna's but i decline.
i'm pretty much open to reading non-fiction of any subject matter, so when my pops bought me yet another book he thought i should read, i was all, "aight".
i mean earlier this year i read a book on mountain climbers and their plight to conquer Everest (amazing read, by the way. check out Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer). it's my ignorance of subjects that are so beyond my own scope of interests, things i would most likely never be a part of, that makes it all even more intriguing to say the least. will i ever climb Mount Everest? no. let's be real. is there a slight chance that i might ever gain admittance into Harvard? yeah let's not even go there.
not surprisingly, What They Teach You wasn't a bad read. generally i have a lot of faith in books written by journalists (Krakauer, Delves Broughton, Eggers, etc), which makes it easier for me to give my dad a positive reaction rather than, you know, lie. that's the worst part about reading something somebody else enthusiastically recommends to you. let me tell you, i've learned my lesson.
earlier this year someone suggested i read Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer (i blogged about this at the time) and without doing the usual Amazon user review research, or flipping through the novel in the bookstore, i simply bought it and dove right into the most horrible piece of crap i've read in awhile. i tried to like it, but man...and then i got a little miffed because i'd wasted money on that shit. take that with a grain of salt though, because some people think his writing and story telling is "life changing" or whatever. that was the word the person who recommended me the book used. different strokes for different folks man.
it was also insisted by somebody else that i try reading Jodi Picoult, and this time i was lent The Pact to read. i decided to give it a shot, since i'd never read her work before, got to the 4th page and wanted to light that shit on fire. i couldn't even lie about that one, so i told the book loaner i just couldn't get into the writing style. call me a snob, that until i've written a New York Times Bestselling novel i can shove my amateur opinions up my ass. but some things i just need to get off my chest.
anyway, a book about a thirty three year old guy's struggle for a Masters at HBS was interesting, considering it had a major unbiased perspective on the famous school. not gonna lie, i had to skip through some of the Finance case studies he shared in some chapters because Accounting makes me want to cry. what i liked most was how much he emphasized on the greed and egotistical mindset of the already privileged as they chase the money bags whilst willingly sacrificing their shot at happiness.
as i got through the book, my dad walked around each day shaking his head, wondering aloud about the whole Tiger Woods fiasco, how it all had come crashing down in an instant for the greatest sportsman on the planet. shit, i think golf is a major snoozefest but i feel bad for golf fans everywhere, having to see their hero destroyed. man, how the mighty have fallen.
for Sunday, here is one of my favorite weekend tunes for you guys. it's also the best version, unless you can prove to me otherwise.
i was skimming through a web discussion about two seconds ago and came across this comment :
" yep, the only reason people believe in God is because they don't wanna take the risk of going to Hell/limbo/purgatory. all in all, religion is very selfish. "
not uncommon condescending atheistic viewpoints went on for awhile with the usual, "science refutes most of this religious bullshit!" argument. nothing against atheists, but quite a few of them that i've come across fail to realize that they are as bad as the fundamentalists they whine about, found in every major religion who try to shove their own belief's down others' throats. who gives a shit about what your idea of truth or faith is when it is just to slag off someone else's? superiority complex much? when it all comes down to it, it's a personal thing between yourself and whatever it is you believe.
having said that, the idea that people practice a faith to earn points or to earn special rewards for when they reach the finish line baffles me. i have often thought about the different interpretations of submission that had been taught in school. it filled me with a sort of indignation later after i'd graduated, that most of it was just to harbor fear within us over the most trivial things in life. does it work? maybe for some people who don't seek out answers for themselves, for something as complex a subject as religion.
what about being good just to be good? because the world needs more of that sort of sincerity. years ago my sister revealed to my father that it had crossed her mind to start donning the head scarf as part of her daily attire to identify more with her faith. he shrugged and asked if she thought she was "already good in here?" to which he patted his chest. "start there first, because everything else matters less," he said, and went back to reading the paper.
some guy replied awhile later to the original comment with :
" the entire point of there being a God is that he isn't supposed to be able to be proven scientifically...but okay continue sounding like a bitter asshole. "
also, i mostly just made this post because the discussion made me think of a quote i'd heard from watching one of my favorite episode's of Inside the Actors Studio with James Lipton a few months ago. Dave Chappelle was the guest host in that episode, with Lipton sitting in the interview chair this time. at the end of the interview Chappelle asked Lipton, an atheist, the usual questions from the Bernard Pivot questionnaire asked to every celebrity that sat in the chair.
when he got to "if heaven exists what would you like to hear God say when you arrive?" Lipton's response was, "you see Jim, you were wrong, I exist. but you may come in anyway."
so that's all i got, this whole religion thing is an argument that can never be won on either side, and people get all butt hurt over things they can't agree to disagree on. i rarely participate in religion wank but i just felt like exercising my fingers. later skaters!
"you always come here alone," he says suddenly, stopping me before i can walk off. "where are your friends?"
i pause, surprised, and then say, "i come here to be alone."
he says nothing, and then smiles.
i never think much of it when people try to initiate small talk by asking questions about myself. it could just be out of simple courtesy to reach that next level of friendliness. which is fine, though i fare poorly in such areas. crack a joke and i'll laugh appreciatively, say bye and walk off into the sunset. or it could just be genuine curiosity.
his question fell into the latter category. it was the first time someone asked a question that seemed personal in comparison to the usual, "are you working or still studying? do you live around here?" and the sorts. nothing that warranted the robotic, repeated response already etched into my brain. i was taken aback by the feeling of this solid, private shell being chipped at by some shy, quiet person i have exchanged mere hello's with for the past 3 months.
i mean it is almost always amusing what others wonder about you. just by the questions they ask tells you something about them too.
weekends usually equate to me hanging out with my old man and going along with whatever plan he has in mind however uninterested i am. yesterday we were in the car heading towards KLCC because i wanted to pick up my laptop at Sony, so like always my dad launches into little stories of his past that i've probably heard more than enough times. most of them are about my mother and how they met. so there's an abundance of eye-rolling on my part as i play the dutiful daughter role and act like it's the first time i'm hearing this riveting tale.
my dad's story-telling sessions have provided me with enough insight into the kind of person he is. like the fact that he remembers what my mom wore that day he asked her out, and that it all went down while they were waiting in line to use a phone booth.
anyway my laptop's keyboard had to be replaced after i realized certain letters on the keypad weren't showing up when i typed. i brought the machine to the Pineapple Computer store first a couple weeks ago, and the bored looking technician had to connect a portable keyboard to log into the laptop to determine if it was a virus issue. after about 15 minutes he sat back in his chair and concluded that it had nothing to do with a virus, but indeed my keyboard was busted probably due to excessively rough use. "are you a gamer?" he asks blankly.
total cost of keyboard replacement : nearly RM400. i ask the lady at Sony customer service if broken keyboards happen a lot. "rarely," she replies. my dad looks over at me. "what did you do, sit on it?"
i might've gone a little overboard when i recall all those late night report writing, or in times of extreme agitation and i took to typing furiously. lesson learned.
- - -
there's been a sudden surge in bumping into people i haven't seen in awhile these past few days. it is always at the most awkward moments, too. first it was while i was paying for something at a gas station and heard my name being called from across the store in an uncertain tone. upon turning around i see that it's Faisal standing at the ATM machine. we attempted to exchange pleasantries over the aisles but that got weird so we waited for the other to be finished.
i ran into some other people from high school, like this one guy working in a bookstore in Damas. he was walking my way through the same aisle and pretended not to have caught my eye, but i was all, "hey, Shukri right? how are you?" maybe it weirded him out a little because we weren't exactly friends back then, but merely people who crossed paths in the school halls every day.
and the other night i was driving around and decided to stop by Starbucks before heading home. so i went to the branch that i haven't been to in awhile, walk through the doors and see the guy i had had an enormous crush on when i was back the summer of last year. only he used to work at the other Starbucks in the same vicinity then. i was so infatuated with him that it made leaving the country a difficult task when the time came. that is how consumed i get by matters of the heart apparently, even i am astounded by my own fixation. maybe because it hardly ever happens.
i got over it though, being so far away, back in the States and moving on with new people, new situations. so seeing him again so abruptly, his name coming back to me effortlessly had me hesitate for a moment before i gained my composure and gave him my order. we both pretended not to remember each other.
internet's been down in the entire building for two days, so i had to move to the window and find some free wifi within range to do some surfing. success! my feet were cold for some reason and i was too lazy to rummage for socks so i wore my comfortable TOMS slip ons instead.
also i need to lay off the coffee. and maybe get a massage. but i dislike having strange hands on me.
every time this particular song by Iron and Wine comes on my iTunes i feel incredibly weakened in the soul. i embrace thoughts of my own mother and everything that's been seen through the eyes of a daughter. mostly i just love the beautiful lyrics.
"mother remember the blink of an eye when i breathed through your body?
mother i lost it, all of the fear of the Lord i was given."
November 22, 2009
everywhere i look, everywhere i turn.
i was driving home in the car a few minutes ago when i switched on the radio to fill the silence and heard what sounded like a prepubescent girl crooning about the struggles of love. i was sitting there thinking, WHO IS THIS CHILD? IS THIS JESSE MCCARTNEY ON AUTO TUNE GONE HILARIOUSLY WRONG? THIS HAS A GREAT BEAT BUT THERE IS A 10 YEAR OLD SINGING ABOUT HIS HEART AND IT IS MAKING ME UNCOMFORTABLE.
my super sleuthing revealed that a 15 year old Canadian teenager by the name of Justin Bieber just released his debut album optimistically entitled My World. (simply googling the one lyrical bit i caught in the car, "imma tell you one time" brought me results in 0.37 seconds).
i don't know why i am still so amused by these kids churning out albums in their adolescence. i think it's just listening to what they're saying that makes me go, child, do you understand the words that you are singing? also, i'm slightly pissed that they have a record deal and i dont.
be right back, making a video of myself rapping a cover of Bone Thugs N Harmony's Paper, Paper and posting it on YouTube.
yesterday i spent some time sitting in front of a computer in a photo developing store in Bangsar browsing through 980 undeveloped photos i had sitting in my memory card and picking out a bunch to print, all of which i later compiled into a new photo album for my grandmoms to bring back to Kota Bharu with her.
no jokes about the most conservative state in the country this time. not so much because i'm feeling apathetic or anything, just because there are too many gems to choose from. yes i sat through most of the heatedKelantan - Negeri Sembilan soccer match with gram as it was televised. oh shoot.
the other day while shaving my legs i had one of those recurring, irritable thoughts that seep into your mind as you partake in the essential grooming routine. or maybe that's just me. it's hard being a girl, i bitched to myself, i hate this shit. god forbid if a chick doesn't have time to go get an upper lip wax or get their hair did for some loser to take notice of her. if a guy ever suggested i bleach my arm hairs i'd be like, say that again and i'll kill your family. guys have it way easier, the end.
this past spring and into summer i chose not to shave my legs. mainly due to the cold, and also because i was on the road a lot with my brother and had other priorities to maintain. while we were in Niagara Falls and changing into the sandals we were required to wear for climbing up under the American Falls, he looked down at my feet and said, "you should roll up your jeans, they're gonna get soaked."
"i can't," i replied dismissively, and he asked why. "i just can't," i repeated.
he wouldn't let it go though. "why? just roll your jeans up a little. what's wrong with your legs?"
"i didn't shave them, okay?"
he started cracking up, and then proceeded to chant, "Josie! Grossie!" while i walked away from him.
1. yes, my 20 year old brother quoted a line from Never Been Kissed.
2. a lesson was learned that day, for me to acknowledge in advance the possibility of situations like those. (i walked very uncomfortably in wet, heavy jeans for the next hour as they dried on me). and for my brother, the knowledge that sometimes girls just don't give a shit.
i realize that i never posted the ton of photos i took from our summer, but i will probably get to that sometime in the next week.
my grandma left early this morning. she cried when i hugged her, and said, "it's okay if you don't know what to talk about over the phone. please just call me sometimes."
that reminds me of my favorite line in the song The Fear You Won't Fall by Joshua Radin.
i thought we could talk about how adorable Marc Jacobs' latest fragrance bottle is. what's there to talk about? not much i guess. it's just adorable, end of story. thanks moms!
it dawned on me awhile back that every awesome or expensive thing i own was given to me by people. i personally would never blow money on any sort of fashion accessory that exceeds more than RM100. although i did once spend RM300 on a lovely Ralph Lauren sweater, but i was working at the time. and 18. i also thought boys who played guitar in bands were the shit when i was 18. and then i saw the light.
anyway.
when it comes down to it i probably own like 3 things. everything else was stuff given to me, usually by those just back from their travels. perfume is a guarantee when it's my dad, or mom on some occasions, because they never know what to get me. i don't blame them, because it's weird to ask for crap i could probably get here. so that just leaves them with souvenir's...and perfume. (i'm not incredibly huge on perfume, but if you saw my current collection you'd think i was a fragrance fiend). (can't complain though, they make for nice decoration along my dresser.)
- - -
"that's one of my biggest fears."
"what is?"
"if i, like, ever woke up as a donut."
"you would eat yourself?"
"i wouldn't even question it."
November 12, 2009
can't stop, wont stop.
you think i don't wanna choke people? you can't just choke all your problems. it takes hard work. if i had my way i'd never work. i'd just stay home all day, watch Scarface fifty times, eat a turkey sandwich, and have sex all fuckin' day. then i'd dress up like a clown, and surprise kids at schools. then i'd take a dump in the back of a movie theater and just wait. 'til somebody sat in it. hear it squish. that's funny to me. then i'd paint. read, and play violin. i'd climb the mountains, and sing the songs that i like to sing. but i don't got that kinda time.
i had a craving for ice cream earlier tonight while driving around showing my grandma (who is visiting to keep me company while the parents are away) the "sights". so i drove to Baskin Robbins to hop inside real quick while she waited in the running car.
some girl and her friends were coming from my left and she hurriedly cut me off at the entrance to the store and blocked the entire walkway. i tried to go around her with a mumbled "excuse me," but she stepped in front of me once again and waddled eagerly towards the counter, where she proceeded to ask for free tastings of about 8 different ice cream flavors, one of which was coconut.
who eats coconut flavored ice cream? really.
you know what's funny about my seemingly never-ending rants on this blog is that a lot of times people will e-mail me and point out that maybe i am too nice (sugar coated way of saying i'm a pushover? i don't know) when faced with the situations i usually find myself in. i don't know. if you knew the things that went through my head sometimes in those moments....i'd probably come off as a grade A bitch. for instance, Greedy Ice Cream Girl did not initiate any rage within me, but i did happen to think to myself as she flung herself to block me from those 31 flavors, "you could really lose a few. should you even be in here?"
yeah, way harsh.
would i ever have said that to her face? probably not. that's a terrible thing to say to a complete stranger, i would know. i can control my actions but not my thoughts, let's be fair. but sometimes i wish people would calm down. it's just ice cream. ice cream.
the cool folks at Google sent me some threads awhile ago. probably because i've been a loyal user since 2003 and my account(s) were, several times over the years, subject to random malfunctions. my mom came across them sitting at the bottom of her closet yesterday and since i hadn't seen them yet (i was in Boston when they mailed them to KL) asked if i wanted them.
i was like, "jyeah," and went to try them on.
i can't wait to rock this shit on the streets, yo.
that size L hoodie reminds me of this guy in my Latin American Literature class last semester who wore his over-sized Scarface sweatshirt with Pacino's face emblazoned on the back throughout the entire winter. i don't know why, everything always reminds me of something. he was also the one who made me laugh out loud after the class sat through the movie version of Gabriel García Márquez's A Very Old Man With Enormous Wings after the professor turned the film off when she realized that the incredibly graphic oral sex scene in the film was going on way too long and making everyone die of embarrassment. so while everyone was sitting there in hehe-awkward silence as the lights flickered back on, he glanced slowly around the class with a "what the hell did we just watch" look on his face and caught my eye across the room.
i didn't have an outfit change or anything between the two shots. my camera's battery died before i could take the t-shirt shot, so i'm already wearing my pajama pants by then. in case the sky outside the windows behind me didn't tip you off.
i also got a pack of multi-colored Google pens but everyone stole them.
my mom took off for Istanbul, Turkey with my dad last night for business. her cat is now going through a bout of depression.
seriously, he's hardly eating and wont talk to me. it sucks.
the last was some Malay chick at the Petronas station where i stopped to mail something off at Mailboxes, before i decided i'd had enough idiocy for one day and drove on home.
i walk over to my parked car in the lot and glance over at the chick sitting in her car, indicating that i am leaving, because despite there being about 8 empty parking spaces around us, she is parked right smack at the entrance of Burger King thus blocking my vehicle from any attempt of reversing. i start the engine whilst looking at her in my rear view mirror and she is slumped in her seat, just staring back at me. so i wait, giving her a moment to realize that i need to back the car out and she is in the way, but she continues sitting there staring back at me. so i put the car in reverse and slowly back out, but of course i can't, so i stop, turn in my seat to give her a, "well?" look with my hands raised questioningly, only to have her stare back blankly.
i am muttering profanities by now, of course. i back out another inch, but the car sensor goes off in increasing warning beeps, so i stop once again and consider getting out, walking over to her car and saying, "look bitch. i'm trying to pull out of my parking space, so are you gonna move your car or do you fucking want me to do it for you?"
if she happens to have her window rolled down would be cool too, because then i'd punch her in the neck.
just kidding. sort of.
(violence is never okay, guys).
but i am not a confrontational person. i dislike embarrassing people, or causing uncomfortable situations that could easily be handled alternatively, even though most of these dipshits deserve their asses handed to them on a plate. won't deny that. so i simply tap my car horn. there is movement in her car finally, i see in my rear view mirror. she lazily sits up in her seat, as if what is being asked of her is to climb Everest. without oxygen. or a sherpa to guide her. she is sullenly sacrificing her time and energy. people like this shouldn't drive. or be out in public. if i had my way, but unfortunately i don't and i've accepted it.
this particular episode reminds me this one time a couple years ago where my old friends Faisal and Emma and i were hanging out at a mamak in Centerpoint, and i ordered a roti telur. nearly 20 minutes later, it still hadn't arrived. so Faisal, who happened to be one of the most confrontational people i've ever known, called the boyish waiter over and said something that pretty much went like this :
"i ordered a roti telur like 20 minutes ago,"
"ya," the waiter replies plainly.
"so...do you want to go and make it or should i go and make it?"
an awkward silence followed as the waiter stood there, the expression on his face displaying his intent on fighting my friend right there. then he disappears into the kitchen and i am sitting there thinking, fuck. i can't eat it now, because he thinks it's for Faisal and probably stomped his foot on it.
anyway, the upside of Monday was that the guy at Mailboxes was super nice, and good looking to boot, so the day wasn't a total loss.
and, i know i used to go on about "not getting" Sufjan Stevens' music in the past but i am now giving it a chance and it is nice.
October 30, 2009
the blues and the abstract truth.
yesterday this song came on my iPod while i was driving in my car, so i turned the speakers up and sang along, and it made me mellow down to my soul.
the live Amos Lee version featuring Oliver Wood and Anoop Desai is also pretty spectacular. i'd have that man's babies for his voice alone, can't lie. (just appreciating the beauty in the world). i mean i don't go around thinking about getting knocked up by random boys just to be clear.
some mornings it feels extra weird to not be waking up on Berkeley Street.
i had a couple things i wanted to say and kept this window open for hours and now i can't find the words.
i finished Anthony Bourdain's book a few days ago, lauded as an iconic exposé of the behind the scenes restaurant world when it was first published in 2000.
i should've been a chef. had i been more aware that kitchen staff are primarily made up of crass, thwarted-off-the-beaten-path, socially inept individuals escaping from something in their lives to create beautiful food for the rest of society, i'd happily be dicing carrots and onions and not still having recurring Zoolander-esque musings of, "who am i?" at age 25.
maybe.
i love this quote he said recently :
" There's one thing I'd take back. I said mean things about Jamie Oliver early on [something about being sodomized in prison], and then I read that he’s dyslexic and the only book he’d read from start to finish was Kitchen Confidential. That got to me. "
the other day while having a stupid fight with my mom she started yelling about me smoking and how people tell her about seeing me smoking everywhere in public. this fills me with so much rage, man.
one of the reasons why i usually hang out at particular, obscure places is so that i can avoid old people who shit bricks about young people, or should i say, ladies, smoking cigarettes. this has happened several times, as documented in this post here. as much as i doubt my mother's acquaintances seeing me "everywhere", i am more appalled by the fact that they find it news that a 25 year old smokes and immediately reports so to my mother. mind your own fucking business and get with the times. these women who sit around and have their little story time and discuss other people's lives and families without an inkling of what the people they are scrutinizing are even like infuriate me.
cigarettes cost nearly 10 bucks these days. i've cut down drastically, partly due to the amount of money i'm wasting, but mostly due to the fact that i realize the long term health issues i've brought upon myself. i don't need some asshole getting all up in my face to scorn me into shame because not only do i smoke, but i'm a girl and Malay too. shock and horror. also preaching that tobacco will kill me. yeah no shit? thanks for pointing out the obvious, considering i totally missed the warning label on every pack i've ever bought. how about you channel your interest in some other issues plaguing the country that gets less attention? like teen pregnancy for one.
congratulations! you suck at being a human being.
here is a lovely commercial just cause :
thank you and good night.
September 30, 2009
the tipping point.
this is the only question that matters if you think about it.
man, you know what i don't understand? people who overreact.
on my way home for dinner yesterday i was sitting smack in the midst of a blinding rainstorm and traffic that was moving inch by inch, all the while moaning inwardly to myself, why didn't i take the Penchala Link why why why why? five minutes later, while stepping on the brake, the tires skidded suddenly and i knocked into the car in front of mine. i jammed my foot so hard on the brake upon realizing the car was fucking sliding, and then watched horrified as the loud thud came, followed by the Honda wobbling on impact for a second.
we both pulled to the side of the road, contributing more to the jam and agitation. then the driver comes out, a young guy probably in his early 30's, grabs an umbrella from his back seat and emerges to inspect the damage. i have my window rolled down, completely drenched by then, apologizing profusely and trying to make out the damage myself. the guy starts shit talking to me, shooting me dirty looks, and caressing the bumper of his car. there is not a scratch.
"do you want to go to the police station," i ask, thinking it would be better to deal with it where we wouldn't have to strain to see in the rain and completely blocking the traffic in our lane.
he glares at me, then points behind us and snaps, "there's police right there!"
i turn around and it so happens there's a police car in the next lane. the two cops stare at us from inside, completely uninterested, then look away.
not sure what this jackass (yeah by now i'm not sure why he's not cooperating, except that he seems to enjoy standing in the rain while other drivers curse at us) has in mind, i lean further out of my window and ask if there is any damage. there is no visible destruction, as far as i can see. guy doesn't answer me, just stands there shaking his head, so i ask louder, "is there any damage?" he makes a dramatic gesture at his bumper and snaps something inaudible at me again.
i am sitting there, my hair matted to my head, thinking, what is this guy's deal? Jesus, Buddha, and Muhammad, he's acting like i killed someone. i bumped into his car and it shook a little. i've witnessed bad parking jobs that did more damage to cars beside them that actually warranted an "OH SHIT MOTHERFUCKER I SAID SHIT." i'd've been more than happy to deal with it at the police station 5 minutes away and he wanted to display his theatrics dead in the middle of a thunderstorm.
after a moment, he gets tired of standing around doing nothing, combined with the several cars honking at him, and waves his hand at me, like he's done dealing with an incompetent child. condescending people are so dumb. it's like they can't muster the ability to be civil or handle a situation intelligently.
i put the car into drive and am attempting to wipe at my wet glasses when i see him get out of his car once again, probably consulting with the passengers inside, and walk towards me briskly, and then jams his cellphone into my now rolled down window. "give me your number," he says curtly. i oblige good naturedly, but while keying in my number his phone jams. he grabs it back, trying to get it to work while leaning down by my window. a car behind us honks repeatedly at him. finally i have to repeat it to him. probably getting the vibe that i didn't give two shits about the situation any longer ( i didn't after realizing he just enjoyed being difficult), he asked for my name and then added threateningly for more satisfaction, "i'll call you" before walking back to his car.
k, i'm shaking.
man, of all the people i could've accidentally bumped into it had to be the biggest douchebag of them all. just last week i was stuck in a jam in downtown KL beside two cars that had had the same issue, and both drivers had shugged it off and life went on. this in broad daylight, on a perfectly fine day with no dangerously slippery roads that could've justified the possibility of an accident.
SELAMAT HARI RAYA / EID MUBARAK to everyone celebrating.
don't lose your cool over the slightest mishaps, life's too short, true facts.
oh and also, did Kid Cudi really sample Band of Horses' The Funeral to deliver the amazingness below? yes. yes he did :
so my brother calls me a few days back while standing in his school's Barnes & Noble, having just finished class.
guess what? Dave Eggers' new book just came out.
what, i say.
Dave Eggers, he wrote a new book. i'm looking at it right now.
he gives me a brief description of Zeitoun, a book based on one Muslim family's real life account in New Orleans during 2005's Hurricane Katrina. moving almost immediately from the Lost Boys of Sudan to Muslims in New Orleans in his subject of writing and exposure captivates me in the simplest way. maybe because it's the overlooked matters or stories that catch his interest, which he pursues, and then recreates with total accuracy and veracity so everyone else will acknowledge it.
writers who write about other people come off to me like they accept that there are more fascinating people than themselves out there, people who usually go largely ignored because they seem so ordinary and don't intentionally draw attention to themselves.
also, my brother found me my own copy of Paris, Je Taime. great film, but the Alexander Payne and Gurinder Chadha segments are two of my favorites.
i love getting new shit.
September 04, 2009
russian roulette is not the same without a gun. now playing : Moby - Flower
my extended summer means lots of chilling, making use of that reading list and discovering more music. also rediscovering old mixes people had made for me.
i've been watching Gurinder Chadha films just because they're all awesome.
went by Borders earlier this morning to look for some books on my forever expanding list but guy at the info counter kept punching book titles onto the keyboard and then saying, "Oops, we don't carry it." or, "Out of stock." i will bitch about this later. if i remember to still give a shit.
so feeling frustrated and at a loss for coming up empty handed on a day that i felt like parting with the miniscule amount of cash i had saved, i considered for a moment to buy Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go, but since Hafiz, guy at the info counter, had offered to call up the branch in Times Square to have one of the only books they actually carried delivered to The Curve (after calling up the only other branch in Tropicana City Mall, which is probably the most useless Borders i've ever been to, and coming up with nothing) i decided to wait until it arrived.
not trying to be an ass. i just wonder with genuine curiosity how they decide on what books to carry in their stock here, because shit if it's only based on whats considered popular at the moment.
one thing i love most about bookstores is that one person who lurks between the shelves, their heads buried in a book, completely oblivious to everything around them, and then suddenly hearing them guffaw at whatever piece of hilarity they'd just come across. this happens almost everytime i walk by the humor section of a bookstore. my dad is one of those people. he just loses it. especially when he reads one of those Bushism type books.
one time in the Barnes and Noble in downtown Boston, some guy who'd been sitting on the ground in the humor section just fell over laughing his ass off at something in the book he'd been reading. makes you want to just go over and join him.
something i came across in finally reading What Is the What by Dave Eggers, which resonated with me upon coming to the end of the novel - "It is no way to live, to wait to love."
true facts.
i read and reread that line a couple of times, thinking, have i been putting that off for another day or person, or am i just not so fortunate?
much like my brother, i cannot recommend this book enough.
last night we said good bye to the most over protected member of the family, my little brother.
when he was in elementary school he was a little fat and somewhat of a loner. once, he came home with bruises that some of the other kids gave him, so i made plans to wait outside of his school the next day and kick their faces in. i never got to though, because my mom went instead.
he left for Philadelphia, the City of Brotherly Love to attend business school at :
Philly is pretty bad ass (to quote a lady sitting in front of us on a train we took earlier this summer, "i'll choose New York over Philadelphia any day. People aren't afraid to shoot cops in Philadelphia"), but my brother adapts to practically anything, given his adventurous and open nature.
so we hung out at KLIA for a couple of hours, eating and hanging out with two of his closest friends that came by, Alex and Syahida. we discussed novels for awhile, seeing that the latter is the daughter of a famous writer and is an aspiring writer herself so it was hard not to geek out for a bit.
we said our good byes around 10.30pm. my sister went with him.
in less important news, i turned 25 years old that same day.
i woke up to my brother singing happy birthday at the foot of my bed. Jeffrey from Pizza Uno gave me chocolate cake and made me blow out a candle.
lesser known fact about me - i am a professional when it comes to seeking out secluded, empty spaces for personal chill out time. which i think is hard to do here in KL, so it can be quite a feat. i have even taken mental note of other factors like between which specific hours will guarantee peace and parking availability, or distance between each table/seat so as to avoid scooting your chair around or the possibility of elbow bumping with the person behind you. this stuff is important.
i miss the boredom and the freedom and the time spent alone, etc...
a cheaper alternative would be the veranda of the apartment, which my mother has taken great pleasure in turning into what feels like the wilderness of the Amazon, as seen above. it's nice to chill out there for awhile, simply because there is absolutely no room for anyone else to join you.
imagine if that bamboo chair thing was a hammock, i'd be all set.
anyone who is looking for a quiet spot for some alone time is welcome to come by my jungle-themed veranda, especially if you're cool with awkward situations.
Carls Jr. is meaningless since they cut the Jalapeno Chicken Burger from their menu.
"it was a promotional item," guy behind the counter explains. whatevs.
i settled for the Sante Fe, and had to add my own jalapeno's from the condiment bar but it just wasn't the same.
anyway, it's not so bad being back in Kuala Lumpur, asshole capital of the world (this is debatable, to be fair). in the two and a half weeks i've been back, 2 security guards at my sister's apartment made me cry, a truck nearly ran me over intentionally, and a car hit my brother (although this was due to the driver braking at the last minute. no one was injured.) my brother yelled a, what the hell? at the guy through the windshield while he sped off unapologetically.
for those unaware of how driving here works for the vast majority of people who own automobiles, consideration for pedestrians ranks a very distant second to the driver's personal goal of reaching destination B. it is not unusual for a driver to step on the gas pedal from afar upon seeing someone in the midst of taking that first step, so as to threaten them should their driving be delayed. in fact, running over a person attempting to take 3 steps across the street is more logical and less troublesome than slowing the vehicle momentarily to let them pass.
but it's not so bad because there are still the familiar faces from places i've frequented for years, and it's always exciting to see each other and act like it's been a million years.
"people beneath the microscope, we're defining the culture."
it's like i've been asleep mentally ever since my summer wandering ended a couple weeks ago and i ended up here in KL. that and the fact that i've been experiencing some technical difficulties in terms of blogging, or spending any time on the internet for that matter.
i've grown attached to Brownie, or McBrown as i sometimes call him for no reason other than it being the last name i gave him.
he is still warming up to me though.
i received some mail while still in Boston, from cards to lengthy handwritten letters, and i read them over and over. one particular envelope came from Afi, a child prodigy i had known for a split second years ago. now a regular at KL's poetry and open mic scene and blowing people away with her words, she also sent me her zine, Paper Raper. reading her writings was a reminder of how uninspired i've become. which is weird because i'm not one of those people who are uninspirable. which kind of makes it even worse.
apologies for not having responded to any mail yet, guys. i loved reading them, and i swear you will hear from me soon.
more later.
July 07, 2009
this is how i am feeling right now.
it is also my all time favorite song by Amos Lee.
well i walked over the bridge into the city where i live and i saw my old landlord.
well we both said hello,
there was no where else to go, 'cause his rent i couldn't afford.
picking up from where i left off from the previous farewell post to the King of Pop, today was much better. this ongoing journey through the east coast has made me more aware of my surroundings more than usual. for instance, passing through 3 or 4 different states, seeing the many little towns or cities no one has really heard of, places i'd only read about.
and people with things to do and places to go. i always wonder what it feels like, if they even feel anything that is, to be so far away from places that dominate the media, places that are forever spoken about by different mouths everywhere.
the fact that life flourishes just as well in forgotten places of the world, it blows my mind. because i'm able to see it, stand in it, while feeling a thousand miles away from places i am more familiar with yet still do not identify as home.
it blows my mind how massive this world really is and that we can't ever see it in its entirety in our lifetime.
things heard throughout the 9 hour train ride from New York Penn Station to Niagara Falls on Thursday :
新华网渥太华６月２６日据加拿大公共卫生局２６日公布的统计数据,
过去两天加拿大新增甲型Ｈ１Ｎ１流感病例１０４３例,
全国确诊病例总数升至７７７５例。 数据还显示，目前加拿, etc..
June 26, 2009
first things first.
i must've woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, because the 9 hour train ride to Niagara Falls, NY, which is where i am right now, had me irritated and crabby. so i put my headphones on and listened to Man In the Mirror on repeat. and then find out about 6 hours later upon checking into a hotel room and turning the television on that Michael Jackson just passed away today.
there goes one of the last great talented legends the world has ever seen.
man, this is upsetting. i think it's the saddest loss in music history but that's just my opinion.
this is Danny, "aka Danny the homeless guy," he slurs on Saturday morning after bumming a cigarette off of me.
i missed my 8.45am train to DC by one minute that morning, and after the lady at the counter reissued me another ticket for 9.45am for no charge, i headed to the back entrance of the station to wait. Danny emerged a moment later and struck up the most inane conversation i have ever engaged in. it was pretty much the drugs that fucked with his speech and made it all almost incomprehensible, but i'd be lying if i said i didn't enjoy his company for that one hour.
DC is pretty great. it's easy to fall in love with its simplicity each day. the new faces, and the new places. i try to remember them as perfectly as i can in my mind, so i don't forget.
i got here late Saturday afternoon via a 7 hour Amtrak ride and reached Washington Union Station, where i met up with the only two important guys in my life :
my dad has a week long meeting going on in the country capital so my brother tagged along. we're staying in the Georgetown area of DC, a lively town adjacent to Georgetown University similar to the RISD/Brown area of Thayer Street in Providence, RI.
true story :
in one of my dim-witted moments in the recent past, i thought Washington DC and Washington state were the same thing. meaning, when hearing one of my friends talk about visiting the latter last year i said something along the lines of, "oh hey, so you can visit Capitol Hill and everything," which generated an awkward and confused conversation about US geography. and the amazing revelation that both cities were on completely opposite sides of a map.
i have more photos and stuff but i'm on my way out so i'll update later.
classic Michael Jackson always makes me feel better for some reason.
his was the first ever concert i went to back in '96 and i'm hella proud, since it's still the best live show i've ever seen. because it was soon after that his whole career went downhill and all was lost for such a still-living legendary icon.
remember when everything wasn't mediocre crap back in the day?
to quote the ever-tactful Kanye West, "do anybody make real shit anymore?"
i wish Boyz II Men was still making albums as great as CooleyHighHarmony or II.
for my 11th birthday my sister got me this Boyz II Men collection on VHS, thus introducing me to what would be a long lasting appreciation for R&B and soul. it was probably one of the best, memorable birthday gifts i've ever received, simply because it's that thing you recall years later as being responsible for single-handedly triggering a personal, enthusiastic exploration of music. i watched the tape so religiously i think it died. also, Sympin was my jam.
i wish SWV were still singing, and that Tina Turner and Whitney Houston were still relevant enough today to tell all these pseudo-talented hacks to take a seat.
i hope the Pixies' upcoming album will be nearly as awesome as Surfer Rosa or Bossanova, though i'm not holding my breath.
sometimes things fall apart, Lauryn Hill, but i still love you, but even more with the Fugees.
my earliest memory of music is hearing my parents playing Motown around the house, particularly The Commodores, followed by a solo Lionel Richie after he left the group. i can't hate on Lionel Richie, because his music has ingrained in me memories of a childhood that i would otherwise not have remembered so fully. it's like meeting an old friend that you haven't seen since you were a kid but still recognizing them. it's like the realization that everything else recent and present can't really compare to someone from your past, because you never knew them when they were still young, pure and completely human. time just chips away at all of us.
i think that scene in Garden State where the lady sings a melancholy version of The Commodores' Three Times a Lady at her friend's funeral is amazing. i remember thinking, what a great song to sing at someone's funeral.
this post pretty much reflects how i'm feeling right now. i think i've made my point so i will stop boring everyone now.
last night my dad and i were having a long phone conversation when it suddenly steered towards a favorite topic of mine. when i say favorite, i mean because it is a subject that i've held a fascination with for the longest time, due to the somewhat unorthodox upbringing i had that only fueled my curiosity as a kid.
i can't explain that further without having to talk about family, and i know now how to differentiate between what's blog-appropriate and what's too personal in regards to those i'd be writing about on the internet (since blogger doesn't offer private posts). don't get me wrong, it's a pain to have to censor/filter/consider/avoid what i want to freely write about, which in part makes my posts less frequent when compared to previous blogs because it's a bummer to have to limit myself so as to not piss off or implicate certain people. that sort of thing only works when you're actually penning non fiction novel material with the purpose of entertaining/enlightening the masses, which obviously i'm not trying to do so half-heartedly through a blog.
anyway, i was taken aback when my dad listened to me going on about the issue of discussion we'd come to and then replied, "don't get involved with that. it's too dangerous, and it will make your future hard." his reaction was so surprising that i thought about it long after the call had ended. which brings us to the notion that being told not to do something by a parent almost always leads to the kid doing it. it's in our nature, isn't it? when i think about it, every stupid thing i didn't do were the things my parents never really preached on.
take drugs for instance. the very idea of it always bored me because the only attitude they really had towards it for my siblings and i was like, by the way, there's this thing called drugs. dumbasses do them. you are not a dumbass. have a good day at school.
i will be turning 25 in less than three months though, so i figure my pursuing this enduring fascination should finally be fulfilled. who ever loses their childlike curiosity anyway? i'm considering minoring in this particular subject starting next semester. future? hard? life itself is hard, pops!
the wireless difficulties that rudely invaded the building's internet usage this past week prompted me to make do with the world outside. a good thing too because technology has made us humans the laziest species on the planet. how did i not acknowledge this glaringly obvious fact before? the internet has consumed me.
i was standing lazily in the H&M downtown, inspecting stuff without actually moving from my spot because i hate shopping in stores, when a perky blonde employee approaches me and proceeds to ask in loud restructured English if i needed help. "you...need...help...finding size...?" she inquires like i'm 4.
it took me a second to realize that stereotyping was in effect and i was on the receiving end. not gonna lie, the only thing i could think was, lol white people. this is like that one FML where some white guy went up to a Chinese family taking photos by the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco and asked them in restructured English complete with miming if they wanted him to help take a group picture, and the father replied, "no thanks asshole, i got this."
you know what else is getting old, is when people in class react in complete shock upon hearing you speak for the first time in comprehensible sentences.
someone needs to notify the uninformed young white's of America that there is a world that exists beyond the shores of the USA and Cancun, Mexico.
so last week we had to turn in our own self made "magazines" for Mass Media class. i did mine the night before, naturally. also i had my boy Oscar strike a killer pose for the cover, and being the sport that he is this was the sexy end result :
yeah i did misspell "people". i didn't realize the error until i already got to class and everyone was looking over one another's creations. the professor, a hippie who used to work in publishing and would occasionally profess her love for weed during class, got all excited upon seeing the cover of Random. i left before she could actually open it and realize what a half assed job i'd done with the content.
"don't worry about it..did you see that other kid's? he turned in loose sheets of paper with like..pictures of himself on them," Anne tries to assure me as we walk out of the building.
the amazing thing is that he really did. but then again he's that annoying guy in every class who loves the sound of his own voice so no one was really surprised.
your narcissism is showing.
we had to create our own ads as part of the content as well, and i don't know why i immediately thought of my favorite Kurt Cobain photograph, the one with the words Men Don't Protect You Anymore and a cop car in the background, which emphasizes the other perfectly. i guess i was the only one to find my own creation hilarious because no one else got it :
some people have asked me about my apparent obsession with Nirvana/Cobain because i talk about the man occasionally and have in the past collected a couple of magazines celebrating him in their feature articles, but the truth is i am actually more fascinated with the man synonymous with Grunge, his death and the ongoing legacy he left behind. i mean, every year some magazine does a cover story to mark the anniversary of his death on April 5 and there is always some new (newly spun?) story or something that just fascinates me. i was reading the one Q did this year (Green Day on the cover) in Barnes & Noble and got chills running down my spine. chills!
as for Nirvana's music, i like maybe 6 of their songs.
- - -
i'm officially on summer break now. i might go see Angels & Demons with Ben. or catch up on sleep. or eat that BBQ Chicken sandwich i bought an hour ago.
today is a good day.
it's so good i just want to walk around outside and hug everyone i see.
May 14, 2009
live free.
man pulled over for eating bowl of cereal while driving.
When police asked him about the cereal after stopping him, the 48-year-old man admitted he was having a snack. “The individual indicated he was hungry and was eating the cereal,” said Needham Police Lieutenant John Schlittler.
May 10, 2009
couching.
season 5 of The Office has been lacking, let's be honest. the last episode, Cafe Disco was pretty great though, not gonna lie. particularly the hilarious dance off between Andy Bernard and Kelly Kapoor.
why is Andy Bernard so awesome?
there were a bunch of songs played throughout this episode, probably the best being the super catchy Various Disgraces by now defunct indie band The Blam. holy shit it was hard to track down the song/artist, but listen or download it for free here.
just took the Lit final this morning. as usual, i spent half the time gazing at the whiteboard trying to form a coherent sentence. a bunch of us ended up running out of time so the professor let us come upstairs and finish it outside of her office. i was walking with Sergei, who once let me borrow his pen and then told me to keep it (which i lost like an hour later), and Adam, who'd ask me for paper or a cigarette on occasion. Sergei was asking me questions, what's your plan for summer? don't know. where're you from? malaysia. where do you live? back bay. do you have facebook? yeah but i deleted it. what, why? i just don't get it.
we were lined up side by side outside the office, him scribbling questions relating to the exam on his paper and nudging me if i knew the answers. the cool thing about Lit exams is that there's really no such thing as copying, since everything has to be written in your own words and perspective anyway. a moment later, he tapped his pen on my arm lightly and pointed to the top right hand corner of his paper where he'd scribbled, can i have your number?
i laughed out loud.
i mean what a fantastic build up to asking for someone's number. during an exam too. slick!
guys can be cute sometimes.
anyway, when i passed in my exam booklet, the sweet little professor who i always feel the urge to hug but don't because that'd be weird clasped her hands together and told me she'd miss me, since i've taken all her classes already. i almost hugged her right then.
when i go forwards, you go backwards and somewhere we will meet.
the previous issue of Mental Floss featured a list of the 25 Most Influential Books of the Past 25 Years. i've only read one of those books - The Known World by Edward P. Jones ("the book that made slavery less black and white"). i could lie and say i read The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera (also featured on the list) but i never actually finished the book. i didn't understand it. like that time i attempted to read Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury but couldn't get past the first page and then felt really dumb.
guys, how excited are you about Angels & Demons? it comes out next friday over here and i am so there. setting aside the fact that Dan Brown isn't exactly considered a literary genius, Angels & Demons kicks The Da Vinci Code's ass so hard.
also, i haven't been able to reply to e-mails this past week since finals are going on right now, but i'll get to it once the week's over.
the restless heart and disoriented soul led me to buy a ticket for a 1am bus to New York City a few days ago. the bus pulled into Port Authority at around 4.30am, where the first sights of Manhattan greeted me - a homeless drunk guy sprawled fast asleep on the street, men loading trucks with the days newspapers, and construction workers, coffee in hand, walking to work.
it was still dark, so i walked into a 24 hour diner nearby and had coffee.
10. these past few weeks have been hard for a lot of people. an 11 year old kid in Massachusetts hanged himself because the kids at school called him gay. eleven! i wish schools gave a shit. i wish people practiced better parenting. i was going through my music files on this laptop sometime ago and it dawned on me that i wouldn't have any real records or albums to share with my future kid(s), should i ever procreate. this kind of bothers me. i imagine the future would be me presenting my kid with anything from Van Morrison's Astral Weeks to The Roots' The Tipping Point and telling them, this is your shield, but i will protect you too.
the BU student now known as the Craigslist Killer tried taking his own life in his jail cell last week. i wonder what it feels like to be 23 years old and knowing that your life is pretty much over. or what his last breath of freedom felt like to him.
09. got a marriage proposal the other night, but from a guy i wouldn't have romantic relations with in this lifetime or the next. i would rather fight a bear while being chased by a lion than exchange vows with him. that is putting it nicely. do people feel that 100% sure about the opposite, like the person they choose to marry?
08. i wonder what bands or musicians Kurt Cobain would be listening to if he were still alive today. would the Foo Fighters even exist? would Courtney Love still be fucking nuts, and would Kurt still be with her?
07. walked past NYU Medical where my sister was brought into the world 29 years ago. took her first breath of life in that very building, her first glimpse of light and her first feel of the human touch. 29 years later, her younger sister of the future who hadn't been born yet at the time would walk by and have thoughts of the past she didn't exist in that didn't make any sense. it blew my mind at that very moment.
06. McDonald's happened to be the only place open at South Station at midnight when i got there. i haven't had McD's in 3 years now, but i was hungry see. and it'd be another 4 hours on the bus. so i made an exception and had a honey mustard chicken wrap. and proceeded to have the worst gurgling stomache ache i've had in awhile. McDonald's is so gross. i'm getting angry just thinking about how gross they are.
05. why has it become so easy to discard certain people from our lives. just last week i dropped _____ like a bad habit and never looked back.
i realize now respect isn't just a rarity. it also determines the quality of companionship in whatever sense. you had to have seen it coming.
04. ended up in the Lower East Side somehow and NYU stomping ground. had two large slices of pizza and almost cried because it was so good. i'm not a very star struck type of person. one time members of the Wu Tang Clan walked into the Starbucks i was chilling in and no one gave a shit. if i had seen Mary Kate Olsen walking around in that moment though i probably would've had a totally embarrasing fan girl moment.
03. i spent some time appreciating the fact that the things i feel most strongly about are the things i did not learn/was taught at home. i don't know why i appreciate that. you'd think it'd be better to have role models that infused within you a greater view of the world. but i think it was just the amount of negativity i was exposed to that drove me in search of positivity in the first place. i think there is greatness in all that you attain on your own, because it becomes your own personal achievement.
02. the diversity of New York City is so beautiful it actually hurts. i can't get over it no matter how many times i visit.
01. i'm sorry, but sometimes things fall apart.
April 12, 2009
i'll be the first to admit that i'm not the most pious person when it comes to religion but God is looking great even though the devil's all up in my face.
i will update more once i get back on my feet.
also, hi Sofiyan. i listened to I Know, I Know, I Know the other day and thought of you.
April 06, 2009
excusez mon français.
dear French couple living on the 7th floor,
it's a little obvious that you are talking about me in your language when we share a quiet elevator ride down to the lobby. like when one of you makes a sudden remark and your boyfriend looks over at me, it just makes me think..really? i'm standing right here.
there is an old lady in my building who calls me "my little ghost girl." she says because she never sees me except at odd hours of the night.
coincidentally, i have a growing suspicion that my room is haunted. there are certain signs (which i don't want to get into) that most times simply boil down to that feeling you get when you just know. and you don't really talk about it because people would just say you're a liar or a schizophrenic or something. i think we've all seen enough horror movies to know how it goes.
i'm one of those people who believes in the supernatural so i don't doubt these things. everyone in my family, including me, has had at least one supernatural experience, minus my brother. my first encounter was in Nilai College some years ago. i've told this story to whoever would listen and oddly enough, they've all believed me. i don't want to get into detail, so long story short, i fell asleep in a friend's room one evening after class and woke up in her bed with a body lying beside me. it wasn't my friend.
earlier this year my dad was sleeping in the middle of the night when he felt something large settle by his head, followed soon after by heavy breathing in his ear. he lunged out of bed, according to my brother who'd relayed to me the story over the phone, before he saw that it was my mom's gigantic Persian cat, Brownie.
seriously, look at this monster. he's like a bear.
speaking of ghosts, i really want to see A Haunting in Connecticut but i still haven't been able to make myself watch even the trailer. someone suggested i check out the Discovery Channel feature they did on the story a few years ago, so i looked it up but apparently it's even more insane. i'll probably end up sitting through it and then not sleeping for a month. i can't help it, this stuff is too fascinating.
earlier today after class, i bumped into N on my way to Tealuxe. she was headed there too, so we had a civilized conversation while walking together. i probably go there way too much :
me : hi, can i have a large -
guy : i'm already making it.
so after i get my drink, i walk outside and N has another one of her episodes. it's become clearer and clearer now that she has a split personality, and this time she blows up in the middle of Newbury street, claiming that i'm "too slow" because i was adding milk and sugar to my drink. i ask her calmly what her problem is and if she's in a hurry, but she rolls her eyes and starts having a total fit about me getting mad at her. none of it makes any sense, as usual, so i listen to her tantrum while people stare, and then tell her, if i were you i'd be nice, considering i'm the only person who still actually talks to you. she storms off down busy Newbury while i stroll down the opposite way towards Wendy's to get a burger and fries.
once i got home, i ran into my next door neighbor, a cool afro-centric lady named Janice. she starts telling me about the crappy day she's having, and i tell her about getting yelled at again in public. she tells me that the reason N keeps pulling that shit with me is, "because you don't kiss her ass." since she's overly high maintenance, sheltered, and self-important. chicks like that are used to being apologized to and always being right even when they know they are incredibly unpleasant.
March 27, 2009
if there's something strange, and it don't look good...
in hilarious news of the week, the Boston Globe featured a front page story on their site about a group of female students at the reputable Boston Latin School who were going around biting and sucking each others blood, believing they were vampires.
front page + high school + vampires = laughing my ass off.
the Boston Globe is known for their questionable albeit amusing journalism at times, much like the Malay Mail back in KL. no scratch that, the Malay Mail isn't any sort of journalism so i guess the comparison is pointless now that i think about it.
i can't decide what's better - the inane article or the comments.
March 21, 2009
i'm on fire so stub me out. now playing: Bloc Party
Bloc Party kicked off their US tour playing the first show at the House of Blues in Boston last night. did i go? um, hell yes. not only did i finally manage to get tickets to a show that had sold out weeks prior, i was second row and center. those of us who'd shown up early were standing around, just chilling when the tiny Asian girl standing in front of me with her friends asked to squeeze into the spot beside me. she explained that the b.o. coming from someone near us was making her feel nauseous, and then said loudly, i mean is it so hard to take a damn shower?
it was right when Brooklyn based opening band, Longwave took the stage that the rest of us started to catch a whiff of the stench. it came over us like a deadly wave. at one point the girl standing in front of me turned around to see me holding my scarf up to my nose and indignantly stated, it's not me! anyway, Longwave wasn't bad. i listened to their stuff on the band's myspace page this morning but i think they actually sound better live. i can't decide if that's good or bad?
Bloc Party is amazing live. i haven't been to a real rock show in years, but seeing them was definitely worth it. i can't explain how much i love Silent Alarm and A Weekend In the City. it was when they started playing Banquet about two songs in that everyone lost their shit. by the time they started in on Hunting for Witches, tiny Asian girl beside me was getting squashed by the moshing and looked afraid for her life, so i tried to grab her so she wouldn't get trampled on. by the end of the song, she forced her way through the crowd and left.
someone threw a fan t-shirt on stage between songs asking that Kele put it on. this is so distracting, he laughed. it's so fuckin distracting, Matt added from behind the drum set. the Christian Bale reference/joke was lost on most of the audience. Gordon was the only member blocked from my view for most of the show, which was a complete bummer. and i don't think i'd ever use this word on any other grown man, but Russell is precious. he's still BP's mysterious lead guitarist, hiding behind the trademark hairstyle throughout the entire show, only peeking out at the crowd a couple times between songs. not to mention his t-shirt was a few sizes too small on him.
my only disappointment was that they didn't play I Still Remember.
after the show and 3 encores i just wanted to get home and take like 8 showers. which i did when i got in around midnight, but it was just one really long one.
get a load of April's issue of GQ featuring Rob Pattinson on the cover.
i saw it andsaid, thank you God. damn, brother is fine.
i don't know what it is with me and British men too. besides the fact that i think Clive Owen is the most perfect man alive, there's just some other level of manliness that radiates from them Brits. just sayin.
the interview is the best part, if only for the fact that his endearing personality and genuineness emanates even on paper. which is kind of a rare thing. and i don't mean in a just famous people or Hollywood kind of way. i like that he's gained non psychotic fans not due to his association with the catastrophe that is Twilight, but simply winning them over due to his bona fide nature. which proves that at the end of the day, people appreciate honesty. i've learned that more people than you think are easily embarrassed or ashamed of their true characteristics and imperfections, and you can't tell what's real anymore, or what's a harried attempt to fit into society's standards and acceptance of normal or cool. what if you found out that in actuality there is no such thing as normal and cool? you just spent your whole life trying to attain a ridiculous invention of the shallow human mind.
it kind of makes life less awesome.
March 11, 2009
i think it was Logan Huntzberger who once said those true words, "so that's what hard work feels like. apparently i've been avoiding it for a reason."
in my Saturday class last weekend, while the professor was talking about the bias of language, the Chinese guy sitting in front of me leaned his body to the left and farted. then he continued taking down notes.
everyone stared.
here are some questions to start off your week with :
how come Asian people lack manners, or social etiquette for that matter?
on the T, why do certain Asians force their conversations onto others in obnoxious tones and foreign language, oblivious to the peace they are disturbing? actually, at the library, on the street, in stores, or any public place basically.
when waiting for the train, shuttle, or elevator, why do certain Asians rush to the doors scrambling to get on, pushing and shoving everyone else who was there first waiting patiently out of their way? i ask you. why?
someone once explained in a conversation we had that it was a cultural thing, that where they are from or how they were brought up, it is completely normal behavior.
the culture excuse is a cop out when it comes to certain issues. there is a difference between culture and bullshit that you are being taught.
the racist card doesn't fly here either, since i'm Asian and all, so i get to talk shit about my Southeast Asian peeps. the first step is accepting these faults. why does everyone ignore their inner flaws anyway? but when it's their physical flaws it's straight to the gym or plastic surgeon or MAC counter, here's a wad of cash make me look like a new person stat. this makes me sad. too bad you just look like a new person but you're still an asshat.
other pictures from the other weekend. the Woodsman and i ended up in Harvard Square as a last resort that night, and went into the Garage to get out of the cold. where we had Ben and Jerry's Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream. go figure.
the other night while taking a break from the mountain of assignments i was having a face off with i found myself watching Con Air on youtube. John Cusack runs funny.
last weekend i came out of my building to find C.Wood leaning against the fence across the street, listening to his iPod. he seemed to just be chilling, so i walked over to him and asked what he was doing. turns out he was waiting for me, since he didn't know what time my Saturday class ended. we walked around the city, looking for a place to eat and ended up in the Jewish neighborhood of Brookline.
he made me take this picture because of the name of the building. when i asked if he knew what it meant, he just said, no, it just sounds like a word i would've made up as a kid. we stood outside for awhile, trying to figure out what knickerbocker could possibly mean. or why anyone would name a store or building that. don't you just hate it when these things aren't obvious in meaning and you just go your whole life wondering.
and then i had to take a picture of this store because the obviousness was screaming :
i know where to go now when i need to buy a door.
i'm watching Dave Chappelle's Block Party right now while simultaneously writing a Lit paper. if i was standing in a room with Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Kanye, ?uestlove, Common, and Dave all at once i'd literally pee my pants.
