Tuesday, February 28, 2006

Maafkan, je ne parle pas chinese

I'm beginning to slightly question my decision to take up weekly Spanish lessons this term. Why? you ask. Now, yours truly is Chinese, born in Malaysia, brought up by parents who went to missionary schools in KL. That makes me fluent in English, with seven years' worth of Malay and Mandarin lessons complete with tuition, Cantonese picked up in late in primary school and from HK friends, and French GCSE on a piece of paper.

Couple o' facts and figures:
- there are more than 500 million native English-speaking people;
- 2 billion people will speak English as a second language with a decade;
- currently 1.1 billion Mandarin speakers
- employers are increasingly looking for bi- and even trilingual candidates - the continuing trend of "global languages" are English, Chinese, Spanish and Japanese.

Arrrghhh I don't wanna become a "jack of all trades, master of none"!! Dammit.. so how, so how? Spreading myself too thin la :S
Skimming through several sites and blogs, this link caught my eye:

Girl Weds Stray Dog

Seriously, go check it out. This clearly illustrates the need for education, education, education. Yeah? Despite the numerous attacks etc on how the Malaysian/British/anywhere else education is completely pointless yadda yadda yawwnnn utterly absurd things like this happening in countries where the literate aren't the minority. Female circumcision vs canine marriage consummation, anyone? We're ridiculous.

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Brrr....

Gaaahh the weather's been very British the past few days. Well, only in Britain does the weather have personality attributes. And of the alarmingly schizophrenic mood swing type. Well let's see, just a few days ago it was sunny, crisp and dry. So dazzlingly bright that shades made a mini-comeback along Oxford Road. And then, without as much as a farewell, liquid depression descended upon us. The damp is rheumatism-inducing, wind so bitingly horrible even the coat and scarf don't wanna go out and be seen, sleet so nasty I've almost forgotten what it felt like to live in darling Malaysia. Woe on those whose heaters mysteriously switch off during a cold spell. You have my sympathy, really. Suddenly the kitchen seems warm and welcoming - overflowing bin, fried onion smell and all.

But anyway, food supplies are diminishing with worrying aclarity. Something about the cold that makes me eat more hehe.. Out to face the weather, then.


Anyways I'm back and it's like, 5am in the morning. Jasley walked Phing n I back from Hulme Hall and he's sooo totally all over her! *chortle* Can't believe I'm blogging instead of sleeping the alcohol off! But I just had to shower, wash off all the encrusted vodka from my arms and clean my smoke-permeated hair, so gotta wait until said hair is dry or else I'll wake up looking like a peacock in heat bloomed all around my face. So I have nothing better to do than blog - eyes too tired to continue Season Two of the O.C. and I can touch type anyway, even with my eyes close. Honestly, test me haha.

Went into town Friday afternoon to help Dara find an outfit for her performance in Sunday's Student PopIdol - she's gonna be singing some Whitney Houston - but no luck especially with the search narrowed down to something dark aquamarine-green. Stopped for a latte at the cafe next to Arndale's Starbucks and a generous sample of carrot & something muffin! Mmm... Dara looks simply fabulous this term with her huge blue contacts, longer hair and that luvved-up glow =P

Anyways happy 19th birthday JJ! Went to Lidl & Tesco yesterday, got the stuff for my cannellini fusilli salad that I planned to make for the potluck dinner cos I was too lazy to do any full-scale cooking. Of course, silly me, totally forgot to get the cannellini beans which kind of made the salad just a plain, boring ole.. well, salad with fusilli. Cheated on the dressing cos I used the remainder of the white rice vinegar used for cleaning the CNY jellyfish (the unused vinegar, i mean) instead of balsamic vinegar. Maybe some coarse black pepper and crushed garlic might have given it more oomph too. Never mind, always next time. Ainun did some scarily good sweet & sour chicken with mix veg and pineapple; wanphing some wonderful creamy spaghetti cabonara; JJ the fried egg rice he did for Shahril's birthday ages ago.

All in all, the dinner gathering was pretty good. The M&S cakes were seriously tho out of shape haha.. Doesnt matter what the thing looks like just how it tastes horr... Headed down to Fallowfield and in the end chose Orange Grove bar (or watever it's called) as our get-JJ-drunk-birthday-rendevous. Watched with fascination this totally wow (in my experiences anyway) Korean drinking stunt. 19 small beer glasses lined up perfectly, 18 shot glasses of vodka balancing precariously in between. And voila, a brilliant demonstration of the domino effect and beer never tasted so good than with a shot of vodka. Pity we never got to use Shu Mei's tongue-twister drinking cards, but I suppose that was probably more cerebral than most people were game for on a night out...

Got back bout 5am ish after spending a few seriously random hours in Jung Hann's room. Showered, and surprisingly got myself out of bed 2pm ish. Went to see Munich with Wan Phing. Damn good movie! Intense like a typical Spielberg but have to say it was the highlight of my week. Arggh gonna go to classes in my duvet if it doesn't start getting warmer soon...

Friday, February 17, 2006

Here's one of the best posts I've ever read, courtesy of Wan Phing again. Really got to me, deep inside at the right moment. Thanks girl you somehow always sum up not just your own feelings in your writings but mine too. =)

Thursday, February 16, 2006

To:

Ladies and gorgeous gents, I've finally got it. And no, it ain't sex.

At last, I've been through the catharsis I've been needing for so long.

And oh, before I forget, Happy St Valentine's.. hope you all have a truly lovely day with loved ones. Even though I do wish that this Catholic feast day in honour of the rather ambiguous Saint Valentinus had never been mingled with the concept of courtly love from the High Middle Ages and transformed into the contrived, commercialised so-called celebration we know today.

All this while there have been so many things I've witheld from blogging about, mainly because blogs are public spaces, and for fear of hurting/offending people. Oh well, this time I think I do owe it to myself to write unfearingly about my life, and perhaps you might finally have enough guts to read this post in its entirety, unlike how you couldn't even find the balls to sort us out when you should have.

But don't get me wrong. I promise this post won't degenerate into some mindless vitriolic righteous ranting about how I want to feed you your own testicles and slowly scoop out your heart with a blunt knife. You of all people should know I'm not the vindictive hateful angry type. Then why, oh why didn't you say all those weeks, months ago when you had so many chances that you just weren't that into me anymore? What were you so afraid of?

My Valentine's Day started at midnight, with an immediate V Day wish and kiss from Lynn. Some general best wishes for and from other friends. Then you came online and it emerged that something's been on your mind for a while. You mentioned the "JD period" and I thought, whoaa isn't this all in the distant past?

You didn't realise that sometimes I acted, or said things that gave the impression that somethings did not matter as much to me, merely to make you feel less bad, even if I hurt myself saying them.
The talk in the park? When I said I wasn't ready for a serious relationship and didn't want anything else to interrupt my first year? Only because you were feeling rotten and said you weren't ready. My own willing lies turned bittersweet in memory. And as if there was no end to what I had to go through, you left me agonising for a few hours that I had totally ruined any chances of "us" ever happening because of those words.

I remember sitting here, heartrate going right up, shocked numb and literally shaking. In the end, you didn't even know why you said that. And that was cruel, as if you hadn't hurt me enough.

You were callous and inconsiderate to the extent of being a total arsehole. But now I say, thank you. Thank you, for forcing it out into the open. Thank you, for trying to explain, in your own way, why you did what you did. So after months of being messed up and totally un-myself, I can now move on. Stop apologising (as you always do) for everything that happened - don't. I'm not sorry that any of it happened, and I'm the one who went through far more than you did. I have to believe that what I've stood for, lived for in the last few months meant something, and I can't believe that if I ever felt sorry it was such a waste. That would mean my life's been a waste during that period and I don't ever want to think that way. You see, sometimes it is the pain as well as the joy that reminds us we're still alive. Not to long ago, you said that when I was happy, I made people around me happy. However true that comment is, it's not things like new clothes or footwear that made me truly happy, but you. A smile, a light compliment, how we somehow always manage to text or call each other at the same time - these things made me happy.

So - there were some feelings on your part after all. It's ok, I can accept that whatever feelings that existed were just... not enough.

I can't find it in myself to hate you. Or at least throw my old moulding slipper at you or put in a half-hearted attempt at throttling. Hence I suppose this last go of digging at a wound that's starting to scab over, last chance to write some things that I couldn't say before I hold my peace forever.

Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet was a simple gift. That's all. The two reasons why I gave it to you the previous Wednesday: I didn't know how you'd react if it was a Valentine's present, and you were feeling down the previous evening. I'd been meaning to give it to you for sometime. It's just one of those books that can change a person's outlook on life - I know it changed mine, at any rate. Go read wtih an open mind; learn to accept and love yourself, faults with the goodness, and then perhaps you'll be more aware of the consequences of your actions on others and not screw up the next time.

Another wonderful person told me, broken hearts are what gives us strength and understanding and compassion - a heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

And despite all that had happened, I had a Valentine's dinner with a lovely guy who appreciates me for who I am and tells I'm wonderful. I've been given three things. A CD of Steven Isserlis playing Boccherini ("because you're allowed to give friends things on Valentine's Day", remember?) which I have yet to listen to, though I'm sure it'll be some fantastic music. A gorgeous, long-stemmed rose, the perfect lush red with broad green leaves and no thorns. And best of all, the gift of unfailing friendship.

In the end, I did manage to stay smiling throughout Valentine's Day. Had a good, dreamless sleep probably because I was completely knackered. Met up with Junie for lunch at Cafe Muse, and from there headed into town. There is a good reason why it's called retail therapy. Got some stuff from MNG and Boots, indulged in another favourite girly thing-to-do - perfume sniffing and critique. Cooed over soft toys at the Disney store and resolutely walked pass HMV. A cushion because I think I'll need something to hug over the next few nights. Also some clothes from Primark, because I realised that in life and love, what truly matters is not the name or image on the outside but that it fits.

Called it a day after some fries and Coke at Burger King. Thankfully there were no kissing cuddling couples on the bus. Had a long, hot shower and sloughed off the old dead skin. My right eye's developed a double eyelid from a little crying and serious sleep deprivation, though the left eye's stayed single. The irony of the situation is, of course, that you're the only one I know with one double and one "sepet" eye. I'm now fixing Junie's MNG scarf while listening to some Wagner, and I realise I'd stopped knitting after that black and silver scarf. There's a sense of peace and calm, the heart rate gradually coming down to normal, a feeling of lightness as if some burden has been lifted from me. This weekend, I'll take out my cello to play, and feel my heart singing again.

Sunday, February 12, 2006

Blue Blood

It was a sizeable shock.

There I was, curled up in my chair with legs propped on table, reading Mammon Inc., the hilarious 2nd book by Singaporean novelist Hwee Hwee Tan, about a Singapore-born, Oxford-educated woman training to become an CorpS Adapter in a world rife with mcCola, mcBurger, mcMac, and mostly run by Mammon Inc. Chiah Deng's role as anAdapter is to teach executives how to cross cultures. Her second Test in the pursuit of THE fabulous job is to turn her very-Singaporean sister into someone Brit enough to mix effortlessly in the JCR of Oxford's Christ Church College. Now, Chiah Chen is the epitome of the stereotyped Singaporean girl complete with mandatory kiasu-ness and perfectly atrocious Singlish. Hence Chiah Deng writes up a Guide to Being an Oxford It Girl:

"Here are the Top 10 questions that people might ask you at social functions.
Memorize these answers so that they'll think you're a posh socialite.
Questions about your:
1) Name
Your name: Sophie
Names of your best friends: Sophie, Tara, Sara, Cosmina, George, Robert, Prince William, Tom
2) Childhood and education
You were raised in Egypt. You could see the pyramids from your mansion terrace. Unfortunately, your family had to flee after Daddy's warehouse was burned down by ungrateful natives. When you returned home, you were shipped off to the Sherborne School for Girls."

And there it was, without so much as a by-your-leave ma'am, the jolt of my exotic past hitting me in the face. Sherborne School for Girls. Posh socialite. Was I really that blue-blooded, then?

But then I had a little epiphany. Years in posh Brit boarding schools notwithstanding, I guess all that really matters is the person I've turned out to be, not the names on my education certs nor my accent or my familiarity with old hymns due to long hours in freezing cathedrals/abbeys. Yes I ain't your average 19-year-old Malaysian gal, and I can't claim to mix with people from all walks of society, but you definitely won't catch me dead sniffing at anyone for being too nouveau riche. All I ask are things like not putting your feet on the table while eating, and I really couldn't care less if you knew which is the salad knife or the dessert spoon. So, off to the mamak it is!

Saturday, February 11, 2006

Half-hearted bitchiness

Ooh I've never used this dark purple font before. Now tell me, just how mo liu can a girl get?

Gawd, how I miss my camera. In a trigger-happy mood these few days, but my one obstacle to photographic bliss is the untimely death of that ickle Litium-ion battery in the trusty ole Sony P10. I WANT A NEW CAMERA!!! But oh well, lemme make my ngan-jee first, so says the parents. Anyway, went to the Sony shop in Arndale the other day, hoping to bring some life back to the poor thing and a smile back on my face. Arriving there after wandering about ressembling a lost Japanese tourist, I proceeded to flash a dazzling smile at the guy-behind-the-counter. Now, these so-called sales representatives/executives are never just out to inform the occasional lost Japanese tourist about the wonders of modern Japanese photographic equiment, but out to get said Japanese tourist's hard-earned cash. That's why said sales rep isn't ever just the cute Sony guy or the fugly Sony guy, but always the Sony guy-behind-the-counter, reason being they can quickly duck behind said counter when the customer gets pissed off mah. (Hey, it's 1am okay, lemme have my daily ramble will ya?)

Well, back to the story. This supposedly lost Japanese tourist wasn't in fact Japanese, a tourist, or even lost in the first place. That's the one helluva annoying thing some Brits assume when some yellow-skinned person wanders about Manchester's Arndale clutching a camera case. Look, I'm a student, okay? I live here, okay? I was wandering about window-shopping, okay? I take photographs as a means of expression, okay? Okay. Anyway, the very sneaky salesguy tried to foist off a 54.99 pound sterling purchase on me, but, sorry mate, ya just ain't fast enough. Bugger told me he hadn't got any cameras still using that battery, then told me a brand-new battery was 54.99 quid, then as fast as lighting took up a pair of scissors and was about to happily snip open the pack when - whoaaaaa, hang on dude. Wait, if you open the pack to let me try the battery, I have to pay for it? Yeah, that a problem? Well, actually it is. I haven't agreed to pay for it.

Having my end-of-chinese-new-year cum Chap Goh Mei dinner bash later today. Hmmm gonna be an interesting combination of Malaysians and Singaporeans. I actually quite like orgnising these get-togethers, but when people remember that I'm doing management, it's like I end up doing all the donkey work. Gaaah. I've even developed an allergy to delegation, delegation, delegation. Why can't people try and take the initiative for once? "Yi-Wen, how to get to Whitworth ah? Yi-Wen, how to get into Whitworth ah? Yi-Wen, I dunno what to cook lehh! Yi-Wen, do I really have to bring something??" And then when I take charge and tell people what to do, I've become: "aunty. Okayla, an aunty wannabe". Lol. No win situation huh...

Wow what a bitchy mood I'm in. Can't seem to make up my mind today. Tchaikovsky or Faye Wong? Isabel Allende or Hwee Hwee Tan? The Times or The Independant? thestar.com.my or nst.com.my? Maggi Mee curry or Shin Cup? =P

I have decided to regain my literacy. As in, have a huge list of non-textbook-books-I've-meant-to-read-but-never-had-the-time-to to plough through. Which means far less blogging, chatting and hea-ing, because these take up precious reading time.

Cute building huh? Kinda reminds of the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix in that eponymous Harry Potter book. You know, when Harry recites the address from memory and Sirius' house just squeezes itself into existence from between its neighbours? Feels like it's from a different era, this little one just off Albert Square. Guess that's the magic of this city.

How Will You Die?

Quiz I got off Meryl's bloggy. You are seriously weird girl!! But we love you all the same.


You scored as Natural Causes. Your death will be by natural causes, though not by any diseaese, because that is another option on this test. You will probably just silently pass away in the night from old age, and people you love won't realize until the next morning, when you are all purple and cold and icky. So be happy, you won't be murdered.

Natural Causes


80%

Gunshot


60%

Cut Throat


60%

Eaten


53%

Suicide


53%

Posion


53%

Bomb


40%

Disappear


40%

Accident


40%

Stabbed


33%

Drowning


33%

Disease


33%

Suffocated


27%

How Will You Die??
created with QuizFarm.com

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Sexual (dis)orientation; Love

(Ohh haven't properly blogged in quite a while... Warning: this is one seriously drawn-out, long overdue, aggregated post, so forgive the disjointedness of thought. But anyway.)

What makes us truly human and unique from all other animals is, contrary to popular belief, not our intelligence but rather our capacity to
imagine. Escapism - something to be taken seriously? Only us humans can creates worlds and scenarios and dreams to free ourselves from this life; chimpanzees will always be focused on their current habitat, their next meal, their next mate.

So as I trooped down town with Wan Phing and Shyan to watch Ang Lee's
Brokeback Mountain a couple of Saturdays ago, I wondered - was Ang Lee living out his heart's secret desires by directing this highly controversial "gay-cowboy-movie"? How about the lovely-eyed Jack Gyllenhaal and craggy Heath Ledger for that matter? But heck, fantasy or reality, within the first hour I was moved. God, watching the hunger in the way they almost ate each other, first with eyes and then mouths, the force of Ennis del Mar slamming his hips into Jack Twist, and how they wrestled with the tearing and intensity of secret love... it was like a punch to the solar plexus. Literally took the wind out of my sails. To quote Wan Phing: "How do stories that aren't even your own change you?"

I'm not afraid to admit, I do envy those who have found somebody. They have guts. Of all the seven billion people in the big blue world, to meet a single person by chance and deciding hey, this could be the one - that is one helluva thought. To imagine spending the rest of your life with this one, single person, loving someone other than our own selfish selves. Sometimes I think - could I ever be constant like this? But I've never been one to embrace making decisions in life. Honestly, a gal really can break her own heart over choices - Matthieu Kassovitz, Eric Bana, River Phoenix (unfortunately deceased, but his brother Joaquin will do just fine thank you sir), Matt Damon, James Franco, Orlando Bloom, Alec Newman, Sean Bean... Sigh, there really is such thing as too much of any good thing huh.

(But don't let me get too distracted.) As I walked out of AMC, I realised that even more than I envy those who have found their supposed other half, I envy those who have found someone, and had the strength to move on. Just finished watching another movie, Wong Kar Wai's classic In the Mood for Love. Oh my, what satisfying masochism, sitting through two hours of indecision and unspoken fantasies. In the end, the exquisitely fragile and fabulously-dressed Maggie Cheung stays with her unfaithful husband and has his son, and ever-charming Leung Chiu Wai ends up in a cello-haunted Angkor Wat. It really got me thinking, How on earth do they do that? Yes, they vowed never to be like their unfaithful spouses, but when you have this special connection with another person that feels so right, why walk away? I guess for most of us, we meet someone we kinda like, and they kinda seem to like us as a fellow homo sapiens too - well, we go for it.

What really got to me in Brokeback Mountain was that it was an uncomplicated story, a story about love. Incidentally the two people in love where both men. But what did it matter? Love is the fuel of existence, the Mobil or Shell to our jaded, tired lives. Ennis del Mar and Jack Twist found the capacity within themselves just to love another, regardless of gender or social constraints. Oh yes, there was plenty of sex, but it was the person that truly mattered. After that brief, glorious season together, the two men part. Ennis, the more constrained of the two, collects his wages and then breaks down behind a wall. In fact, he wallopes himself against said wall. Ouch. But then again, a physical expression and release of what's within him. Ever felt so strongly about someone or something that you literally, physically felt that exquisite pain of feeling?

I noticed a trend running through most of the movies I've watched recently. Aeon Flux, Brokeback Mountain, Walk the Line, In the Mood for Love... entertainment in their own right, some of it darn good, but they all lacked a certain climax, that building of tension until it's all over and you sigh and only then realise the movie had you holding your breath. So I decided to go listen to the music department's Sinfonietta play Beethoven, Hindemith and Sibelius on Saturday night. Don't take me for a snob - it was all pretty good especially the Pelleas and Melisande suite, but again, I left feeling a little let down. Then I realised I need some catharsis - Aristotle's way of being clever by showing he understood Greek tragedy and its effect on the human condition. I guess all this tension has been building up inside from so many little things: first having to leave Malaysia after a rather sad and unsatisfactory holiday, then the hell of exams over two weeks, stress, indecision, confusion. So I listened to our Sherborne recording of Sibelius' 2nd Symphony, loud. Read the newspaper. Had a very long-winded but freaking amusing msn conversation about Amsterdam and miscellaneous "hum sup" stuff with Lynn, Shyan and JJ. Cooked an ugly yummy dinner. Banged head against wall a la Heath Ledger (metaphorically of course - I love myself too much to do that). Read The Prophet and at last felt much better.

But then.. I discovered that endorphins and peace don't last very long in my world. So here's a chopped quote:

"Though his ways are hard and steep,
though the sword hidden among your pinions may wound you,
though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden...
So shall he crucify you."

Apology to those who know where this comes from - I'm in a pessimistic mood right now. And I wish I could open myself with words, so confident in the face of both lovers and strangers, very much like the way Stephanie Klein does. Someone please tear my heart out and force me to walk away, and then I will be fine.


Friday, February 03, 2006

Bored...

Hmm... kinda addicted to BlogThings at the mo.. somehow really bored and restless. FINALLY submitted out application for Wilmslow Park! High time.. got woken up by Enn Yong this morning - apparently the direct debit form does not apply for the deposit and we had to go there in person. Gaaah they couldn've easily told us yesterday, missed my rare gym slot. Oh well, anyway we've got an appartment facing Hathersage Road, thankfully away from Oxford Road and the construction going on facing Rusholme. I'm Room D, sandwiched between Wan Phing and JJ. Gonna be interesting, at any rate. Enn Swan listens to R'nB and ballads, Enn Yong hip hop and rap, JJ indie rock and classical, Wan Phing rock I suppose. =) Anyway another random BlogThing, one marginally more interesting than How Scary Are You or What's Your Porn Star Name (heh)...

Your Five Factor Personality Profile

Extroversion:

You have high extroversion.
You are outgoing and engaging, with both strangers and friends.
You truly enjoy being with people and bring energy into any situation.
Enthusiastic and fun, you're the first to say "let's go!"

Conscientiousness:

You have medium conscientiousness.
You're generally good at balancing work and play.
When you need to buckle down, you can usually get tasks done.
But you've been known to goof off when you know you can get away with it.

Agreeableness:

You have high agreeableness.
You are easy to get along with, and you value harmony highly.
Helpful and generous, you are willing to compromise with almost anyone.
You give people the benefit of the doubt and don't mind giving someone a second chance.

Neuroticism:

You have low neuroticism.
You are very emotionally stable and mentally together.
Only the greatest setbacks upset you, and you bounce back quickly.
Overall, you are typically calm and relaxed - making others feel secure.

Openness to experience:

Your openness to new experiences is high.
In life, you tend to be an early adopter of all new things and ideas.
You'll try almost anything interesting, and you're constantly pushing your own limits.
A great connoisseir of art and beauty, you can find the positive side of almost anything.