I'm Back From The Overpriced Island, Y'all

Eyeboogers: Henry Beard - French For Cats: All The French Your Cat Will Ever Need

//Potato-Couching
How hot is The O.C.? Thanks to Bayan, I've got the first 4 episodes of the new season and the drama is as riveting as ever. There are four fresh faces pairing up with the original four, so that makes four hot men to please my eyes with. My pick between the four dudes? Not Seth Cohen, as you might think. Ryan Atwood, always. Non-neurotic, surprisingly witty and a hot damn excellemente kisser. The show's starting to really pump up it's music too; I've only watched four episodes and two bands (The Killers and The Walkmen) have already guested on it with live sets. Love. Oh, and is anyone else stoked about the new lineup on Travel & Living? Jamie Oliver, Nigella Lawson, Tony Bourdain, Kylie Kwong, Bob Blumer plus a host of other hot haute cuisine shows. Orgasmic, I tell ya.

//More Than 99 CDs
My music collection has just gotten some serious punch in the form of Jay-Z's Black Album, my very first rap purchase ever plus two remixes of it: DJ Dangermouse's and Mike Shinoda's. Also, Damien Rice's B-Sides is looking comfy underneath O, so I must say the rack is really taking shape pretty well. Yup, yup. Next up, O.C. Mix 2 for Death Cab and Nada Surf! And Sting for dear Mr Feisol, a farewell+birthday gift.

//Kaching!
RM316 to go for the LC-A. I now have my eye on some turntables. Advice anyone? Plus I'm requesting for Tony Bourdain and Jamie Oliver cookbooks for my birthday; they're so pretty, it's almost unbelievable. And I'm talking about the books, ahem.


The new year is on the horizon including the big 2-0, and it's looking pretty good. I know what I want out of 2005. I know I'm going to get it.

Get Outta Here

Eyeboogers: Six Feet Under - Better Living Through Death

My place is not here. I've known it since I was nine, when I was dreaming of going to school in Boston. I've known it since I was fourteen, walking in the streets of Singapore. And I definitely knew it when I first set foot in Paris two years ago. The more I think about it, the more that I'm sure of it. I have no idea where I'm meant to be. But I know for sure that I have to get out of this place. Don't get me wrong, I love Malaysia. It's a great place to grow up, a great place to live and according to many many expats, a great place to retire. I love going to Section 14 and seeing that the old blind man singing ronggeng tunes outside the pasar is still there after all these years. The thing is though.. I don't want to be that man. I don't want to live my whole life knowing just.. well.. this. The world is vast and humongous, though getting smaller by the minute with every person I meet. I don't want to live my tiny speck of a life just here in the same spot year after year after year. I need to move. I need to see new things, smell new scents. I get literally homesick, as in sick of home, and I just need to get away. Which is the reason why I go to Singapore so often, it's the nearest place I can go to that's not here. I get almost giddy when I walk the roads near Clarke Quay and breath in the ocean spray at East Coast, relishing that nothing's familiar. I want to meet new people, get fresh opinions on things I never knew I never knew. I love all my friends to pieces, and it's an awesome feeling to be so close to people to know how they're going to react to everything. But sometimes I just want to, I don't know, be surprised? People, especially a couple of my friends whose names I won't mention, often tell me that they're terrified of meeting new people and that they hate being all friendly and obliging. I, on the other hand, thrive on that feeling of nervousness, of anticipation. Whether I'm going to meet another soul sister or another person to despise. There are more than billions of people scattered over this entire planet, in different and wonderful cities and deserts living out ever-changing cultures. I want to travel, explore. Watch Dave Matthews in New York, blow glass in Venice, have fish n chips in Sydney. My feet, my soul are not meant to be tied down. I can feel myself getting weaker each moment I spend every time I stand still. Sure, I'll come back. I'll never call any other place home. But to live? This is not my life. So from now on, I've found my real motivation to work harder. I had an epiphany of sorts today, one I should have had ages ago. The reason why it sucks or looks up is all on me. And I hate treading on so much shit, wondering whether I'm ever going to meet a certain person again or knowing for a fact that the college principal will always be a two-faced ass. I know I have to pull myself together if I want to get out of here. Life begins now. I can't afford to waste any more of it. I even compiled a list of New Year's resolutions, something I haven't ever done before, and my God am I ever going to go through with it. I'm turning my life around. And I know it's going to be a kick-ass ride.

I Want A Pair Of Rollerblades *Whines*

(This is gonna be a nonsense entry for my own memory preservation bank, but feel free to stick around)

My bestest day in Singapore yet, and it had nothing to do with Faruq!

The day began with a gazillion rounds of Soul Caliber II with Bayan, defeating really badly CGI-ed enemies with really gempak weapons while munching on leftover Ruffles for brekkie. Then we headed out so so late to Orchard to meet up with the rest of them, and saw for the first time a really hot guy in Singapore, landmark-ish to be sure. Then lunch - the mee soto was so bad - and then Yan, Kak Zura, Syaza and me broke off to head to East Coast. Rain rain rain rain rain then no rain so we rented in-line skates and bikes, wobbling off into the sunset. There was a girl so obviously trying to hit on Yan so I pretended to be his girlfriend, which worked tremendously well (I personally think he'd make a better partner than Faruq by far). I couldn't skate for the longest time, but I finally got the hang of it then my feet started to hurt so bad I got on the bike instead. Rain rain rain rain rain again so we headed back and had dinner at McD's, ran into another hot dude and I managed to flirt my way into an email exchange with an incredibly cool guy behind the McCafe counter only to find out three minutes ago on Friendster that he's in a relationship. Oh and I saw the fattest cat in the world on the way back and another cat choking up a hairball. And a dog that looked like a shag rug.

So tired and cold and Cik Idah is asleep so I'm feeling a wee guilty now. Gonna jet.

I love today >))

A Look Back, A Look Forward

I'm in Singapore (again), this time for the lights, plus Jay-Z and Damien Rice CDs.

I'm missing Sa like craaazy.

I'm suffering from intense Def Jam NY withdrawal.

I'm wondering if I'll get to see him again before he leaves.

I'm so grateful for all the amazing friends I've made this past year.

I'm sorry that I made someone cry.

I'm going to request for (a) Jamie Oliver Anthony Bourdain cookbooks for my birthday.

I'm wondering if he realizes I'm still waiting for him.

I'm thinking that maybe, just maybe, I will be a great architect.

I'm still coughing like mad, way to end the year.

I'm wondering whether he'll ever know how much I love him.

I'm wondering whether I'll ever tell him.

Not Again

Earwax: Jay-Z - 99 Problems

I hated breaking up with them. I hate not having to see them every day. I hate that we can't skip class again, badmouth the teachers and not do homework. Sure, I can see them any other time of the year but it's not the same. I miss the old crowd. Missa, Yam, Laney, Vic, Vanny, Manpreet, Lee Sha, Christine and more and more and more. You girls have no idea how much I miss those days when all we had to worry about was whether the math teacher would realize our books weren't in the pile again or whether we had to pay ten sen for yet another paper nametag. No idea. Eve 6's 'Here's To The Night' just makes me want to bawl.

And now I have to break up with someone again. Again. Sure, I'll see him around. I'm even promised a spot in his firm for practical training. But it's just. Not. Going. To. Be. The. Same. Mr Feisol, the best goddamned lecturer/friend I could ask for is leaving. I don't want him to go so fucking much. I've pulled on his arms and legs and begged and pleaded for him not to leave til I'm finished with my diploma. But there's just too much political drama going on in the college management and he's been offered a way waaay better job, a job he's been dreaming of for his entire professional career and it's the perfect time for him to go. Not a perfect time for me. I want to be dragged out of computer class again just to drive him to Taman Tun or Damansara to pay his bills. I want to stick notes on his car windscreen some more to say that I've gone home or the Perdana needs washing. I want to keep having breakfasts at the mamak with him and the super seniors and listen to them discuss pretentious design theories. Most of all, I just want him to stay.

He's being really nice about it, trying not to make me feel dejected and angry that he's leaving me behind. 'Come on, we've got to make the best of the time we have left.' 'Take it easy, girl, we can still meet up outside.' I just wanna wail more. I've been crass and rude to him a lot lately, furious that he's going off and he knows that he's hurting me. I know I'm just being a selfish bitch but I can't help it. The man has done more for me than all the other teachers in my life put together, times ten. He's taught me to be brave, to be bold, to stand up for what I believe in (or at least bullshit convincingly). He's taught me that the heart is the best guide to listen to, that what other say don't count for crap if you know you're right. No one knows more about the stupid shit that I do, has cooler jackets and shoes and can piss me off and make me laugh within seconds like he does. He's told me things about himself that no one knows, trusts me and no one else to babysit his daughters when they're around and he's busy, signs me up first for all the seminars and forums. And for some unknown reason, he believes in me, that I have the capability to fly far in this field and he does everything he can to help.

I realized all this today when he showed up unceremoniously for my assessment, and I know that he was there for me, seeing as he wasn't on duty to assess my class and frankly, he doesn't give a shit about the other kids in my class. He's very very picky about who he's nice to and one wrong move could put you in his black books for life. Apparently, he wanted to criticise me 'constructively' so I know what I'm doing wrong and pull myself out of the educational ditch I'm in. Fact is, I know perfectly well what I'm doing wrong, and him punting questions left and right the way he does was only going to make me burst into tears so I dragged him off to one side and told him there was no fucking way he was going to be in the room for my assessment in those exact words. He was doing it as a favor to me, but disappointing him, one of the few people in the world whom I care what they think of me, was beyond what I could handle.

I'm just so.. used to seeing him at any time on any day to ask him anything. And starting next month he'll be clear across town with a job that's paying four times what he's earning now with a gajillion benefits with a car and a phone and frequent overseas assignments. Of course he has to go. Of course I can't let him stay. It's just that I don't want to say goodbye to yet another person I can't let go. So tired of blinking back tears when familiar songs come on the radio. So tired that I can't do a damn thing about it.

Sigh. Bye, Mr. F. Just leave a note on my car before you leave.

It Only Took Me Seven Years

Premonitions are a strange gift. Discreet visions of what is to come, bestowed to all of us, but in tiny and different ways, usually escaping our attention and quickly forgotten. I get premonitions sometimes and they always come in the form of dreams. And because of the nature of dreams, it disappears from my memories only to resurface as tingly deja vu when it happens in reality. So why am I talking about premonitions? Because, dear sirs (and madams), a few years ago, I had a dream that I went to a Hanson concert. I remember orange tinges of light, gorgeous harmonies and for some reason, Ike Hanson in a white shirt.

And tonight, the dream came true.

Hard Rock Cafe was packed. Full. There were girls standing on railings, standing on seats, pushing and pushed and pushing. But in that tiny little space, was one of the best shows I've been to. It's hard to call yourself a connoisseur of music when the members of the elitist club deem Hanson unworthy of their time. Let me tell you, you stuck up aficionados, these brothers give plenty of so-called artier than thou bands a run for their money when performing live. These brothers are magic. They have chemistry in such gargantuan amounts it's unfair. Every pluck of the piano, strum of the guitar, bash on the drums was paid attention to. You could sense their love for every note and word sang and played. Granted, I have seen recordings of better shows, but it was obvious they were tired and in so, made them all the more worthy of professional respect. When it comes right down to it, these guys are musicians, and damn good ones at that. They played a good mix of new and old stuff, ranging from 'MMMBop' to their latest 'Lost Without Each Other'. There was a great cover of 'Sunshine' halfway through and it was cool that everyone there knew every word to every song. But enough about the music.

Zac Hanson is holy-motherfuckin-HOT. There, I said it. I can't help it, I've had a crush on him since I was twelve. Sooo emo, but sooo cute. Of course, since he's the only 'available' one, seeing as Ike's too old and Taylor's married, every single girl in the room was going 'Zac, look here!' 'Zac, you're so hot!' 'Zac, I can see your ass!' and so forth. I managed to get a standing space nearest to him, so take that, stiletto-ed bimbos :P (Don't worry, I didn't make an ass of myself by screaming his name) I managed to take quite a number of videos of the show, so if anyone thinks that I'm wrong about Hanson and that they're sucky blond gay boys who can't sing a note, email me and I'll prove you wrong.

(I wanted to post the videos of them live, but the sound's sucky as I took it on my digicam, which means mono stereo. But I'll force feed some of you the videos personally anyway >D) Here's a still from the show:



In conclusion? I love. I like. I want much much more. Spoilt, I tell ya. I'm shpoilt.

Trip-Happy

Earwax: Hanson - Underneath (Guess who won tickets to watch them live? *griiinns*)

Over the weekend, I was invited to an open house of a primary school friend in the depths of Puchong. It's been awhile since I've seen the whole lot of them as the difference with being from Assunta when the rest are from Sri Aman is a lot. The old old crowd were all there in all their intertwined social glory exchanging much exhausted stories and air kisses. Amongst the MANY photographs taken, barbecued lamb consumed and overly fashionable uni girls, I finally met my muse. He's taller, thinner and fuyoh-way-cuter than I had previewed and the voice on the boy was one of just that, a boy, which was comical. The best part of it all was that he is possibly the most congenial person you will ever meet in your whole life, bar none. You could plop him down in any crowd and he would natter away like they were his best friends. Even when he was pretending to be a rabid dog while performing the chicken trick garnered only fond shakes of the head from the nearby girls and a humorously-said 'Buruk perangai!'. Both of us joked about his ridiculously unfair jambu-ness and racing on the LDP with our tiny Kancils like we had been buddies for years. There were no akward silences; it always filled with instant private jokes and flashes of his extremely charming smile with his crazy shaggy hair (incidentally a lot like mine) bursting like a mop over his baju Melayu.

I didn't choose wrong this time, and he is without a doubt worthy of being my inspiration. It was an immense pleasure meeting him and I'm counting on us meeting again ;)

Oh, But This Is Fun

Your Life: The Soundtrack
Created by aiko and taken 15919 times on bzoink!
Opening credits	David Gray - Babylon
Waking up	Incubus - Are You In? Blur - Coffee & TV
Average day	Travis - Why Does It Always Rain On Me?
First date	John Mayer - My Stupid Mouth
Falling in love	Kym Mazelle - Young Hearts Run Free UB40 - Fools Rush In
Love scene	Dave Matthews Band - Crash Into Me William Orbit featuring Finley Quaye & Beth Orton - Dice
Fight scene	Ben & Jason - The WIld Things
Breaking up	Jeff Buckley - Last Goodbye B.R.M.C. - Love Burns
Getting back together	Starsailor - Love Is Here
Secret love	Coldplay - Shiver Something Corporate - Konstantine
Life's okay	Jason Mraz - Curbside Prophet
Mental breakdown	Pixies - Where Is My Mind?
Driving	Radiohead - Karma Police Placebo - Every Me Every You
Learning a lesson	Damien Rice - Amie
Deep thought	Zero 7 - Destiny
Flashback	Alexi Murdoch - Orange Sky
Partying	Save Ferris - I Know
Happy dance	Toploader - Dancing In The Moonlight
Regretting	Howie Day - Sorry So Sorry Travis - Driftwood
Long night alone	Turin Brakes - Starship John Mayer - Quiet
Death scene	Michael Andrews featuring Gary Jules - Mad World
Closing credits	Ryan Adams - Goodnight, Hollywood Blvd
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Dan Akhirnya

Earwax: Ben & Jason - Ten Songs About You

Maryam's been calling me a lot of late, resuming our much-enjoyable chitchat sessions we've been having since Form 4. I love talking with her, because we always always have something to say, discuss, banter, ridicule, et cetera. Always. There was once we were talking for more than five hours on the eve of a biology paper and even though we weren't at all sleepy, we figured we had to at least study an eensy bit so we finally ended the conversation at about 4 am. So tonight, amongst exchanges over which movies/books/TV shows we cried over, she managed to pin down my 'type'. That 'type' that everybody has one of when finding a person immensely hot. My 'type', as I've discovered, is the professional-Melayu-good boy. Suits by day, baju Melayu on Fridays, anak mak good boys who study intellectual professional degrees and have ambition amongst their Melayu-ness. And the more I think about it, the truer I realize it is. Number one, I can't run away from being attracted to Melayu boys because we're usually attracted to our own kind anyway even though there were the odd hot-Chinese crushes that happened. Number two, I can't resist a Melayu boy in a baju Melayu especially because seriously, that outfit is magic. If it can make a displaced Canadian look good, I say it can make anyone look good. Then there's the good boy part. Even though it's not a concious preference, I like the boys who are good sons, good brothers and are always on call to carry mommy's groceries or pick up adik from school. The most important though, is the professional ambition part or at the least, ambition. The ones who make me especially wonky in the head are the ones who speak eloquently with confidence in any conversation and most of that is usually backed up by some sort of higher education in a professional field. They're the ones who know what they want out of life and work hard to get it regardless of what anyone else may think of them or their pursuit. Add that to a Melayu boy, who (frankly) are usually selamba shites who don't give two cents about anything, now that makes them all the more hot. Of course I like my occasional selekeh mamats - since some know me too well and will gladly point it out - but I'm growing to really like those in the button-down shirts and speak with conviction about what they believe in and gladly run chores for their mothers in between. Maryam comforted me by saying that 'at least your type's attainable', but that's because she like epic warriors in short skirts who wield swords in the name of their king *clears throat*

There it is. I'm projecting it. My 'type'. So excuse me while I find me one of these ;)

Pretty Times

The Specials sans a member about to get chased out of Zara