Won't you take me to :) town

I’m waiting around a recording studio as I type this, waiting for the occasional occasion where my vocal services are required for a Malaysian-made animation pilot. It’s a gorgeous house set atop a lush hill not too far from town, and I’m recording on the first floor - with strains of live traditional Malay music drifting up from a booth on ground floor. It’s getting dark, my eyes are straining, my bum aches on the cold marble floor (the sacrifices I make for power socket proximity), and my nostrils desperately seek the promise land through the destitute planes of second hand ciggy smoke. Its been a long day, today’s session is projected to last 10 hours. I’m heading to the office first thing tomorrow morning to face to colossal 48-hour task of successfully pulling off a media luncheon for an Aussie children’s TV show almost single-handedly.

I’m not happy. But I am content.

(Then again, I could be just saying that because my mate Johnny’s just sent me the grooviest Youtube link of Stevie Wonder on the talkbox. Drown me in that Stevie. Bludgeon me with that talkbox.)

When I took part in KLPac’s Shakespearean workshop presentation in April, we had a lot of student audiences. After one of the performances, one particular bevy of schoolgirls approached me for pictures and to congratulate me on my performance. And the unexpected happened. One girl told me that their school drama tournament was just around the corner, and she asked me for acting advice. I was dumbfounded. It seemed just yesterday that I was in her shoes, an eager beaver student waiting for actors to emerge from backstage to hound them for photo opportunities and tips on achieving my dream job. And now I finally understand, or at least safely assume, why most of them were unable to muster a substantial answer. It wasn’t because they wanted to protect the secrets of the trade. It’s because there are none. And they honestly don’t know what to say otherwise. The bug just grows and matures with you unawares, until of course you make that conscious decision to bring out the proverbial newspaper roll. It was a fascinating realization that I‘ve come so far and still be learning.

Like I‘ve said previously, It’s been a manic year, and tomorrow marks the beginning of the second half of the year. I like the way this it’s been going so far. I’ve sensed a better utilization of schedule without compromising on downtime. I’ve got almost the rest of the year entirely mapped out - it wasn’t my intention, since I had previously sworn off making plans to recover and breathe from a merciless year before this. But I think I’m ready for plans again, they no longer seem as asphyxiating.

I'm excited about being confirmed for a small stint for a docudrama for The History Channel, as part of a series that highlights some little-known fragments of Malaysian history. It's a non-speaking role and the pay's a tad paltry but hey, these days owning even a History Channel sticker could boost you several rungs up the social ladder. I should be shooting for two days sometime in June.

I’ve always warmed up to the idea of wrapping up a year with something extra chunky, and I’ve been served my ladleful of peanut butter for 2009: earlier last week I received the script for a big December play. Three players, a swimming pool and a whole lotta cheek. I just finished reading it last night; it’s a light commercial piece, which is beneficial for me because by the looks of it, I’m going to need to usher much of my energy into getting my character right. I was handpicked for the role so there is no way I can afford to do injustice to her. I’m glad I’ve been given a 6-month headstart! I’ll pump ya’ll with the juice when the date grows more significant.

I really want to start blogging regularly again. I’ve been notorious for wearing my heart on my sleeve, and I miss taking a small everyday incidence and going all Lord-Of-The-Rings with it, deliberating over my words for hours on end before I deem it post-able. How I wish my work commitments were halved so that I could stick to the promise I've made to my blog to not condemn it into the pits of obscurity. I’ll see how I can get myself back on track again.

For now, or more specifically the rest of the evening, it’s back to the mic, headphones and a glass of good ol‘ passage-clearing sky juice.


The closest Fairil & I will ever get to matrimony

Whirlwind Days

Gahdamn, it’s been a crazy year so far.

Just been getting myself involved in so many projects both commercial and personal. And I’m starting to painfully rule out the incorporation of ‘rest’ from my current lifestyle. Being the natural lazy person that I am, it’s bizarre how I would now choose productivity over sloth had I been forced to make a preference. In such a competitive industry like entertainment however, we’re all eventually conditioned to keep ourselves on our toes at our own accord. Do you smell the sweet incense of tragedy in the air?

Last week saw the first official screening of my short film ‘Baby The Rain Will Fall’ which was a highlight at Creative United Movement’s ‘Unite and Shoot’ filmmaking gathering at my current favorite haunt in town, Palate Palette. To those who came, thank you for your support from the bottom of my heart. The response was overwhelming, so much so that some people had to end up watching the film from the stairs coming up to the screening room! One of my directors Adrian is looking at getting out some DVD copies to leave at the café for free. If you’re interested in getting a copy, let me know and I’ll see what I can arrange. We sincerely hope that Unite and Shoot will establish the beginnings of groundbreaking filmmaking projects in Malaysia. Check out Creative United Movement at http://www.creativeunitedmovement.com/


The top floor of Palate Palette packed to the brim

Over the weekend, I attended most engaging acting workshop at the National Arts Academy. It was facilitated by renowned Japanese theatre practitioner, Hideki Noda. There was a lot of group and partner work involved. I was expecting more solo work, but realized how important it was to be aware of other performers sharing the stage with you. Very eye opening.

It was this same weekend that I also did two shoots - one was for the inaugural Malaysian edition of socialite magazine Sur La Terre. It being my first magazine cover ever, I’m honestly very nervous about how that will turn out. It should be released mid-April, so keep an eye out for it at newsstands.


Getting my hair did at KLCC park, in a shirt I can only dream of affording

Later that day was another shoot which was a collaboration with my mate Johnny McGeorge who needed a model for a brand concept proposal. Despite dealing with relatively unfamiliar resources, J managed to cut a superbly slick shoot that showed me in a light even I have never seen myself in. I’m excited to see his final selection of shots, and with his permission I‘ll upload them on this page. The bloke is phenomenal. Check out his work at http://www.jayemmcee.com/.

On Monday, I shot a milk product TV commercial for the Vietnamese market. I portrayed the mother to the boy protagonist. I arrived on set at 8am, but was only needed at 5.30pm, and I barely shot for half an hour! Strangely enough, it didn’t feel like a day wasted at all - all the kid talents that day were the most well-behaved and professional young bunch I’ve ever dealt with! My ‘son’ Chadman was a real trooper, cooperative and so adorable I wanted to take him home. And I just ate and drank all day which inadvertently kept my energy levels up - we’re talking about potato chips, isotonic drinks, iced lemon tea, Ribena, breakfast cereal, chocolate, biscuits, candy - admittedly, this was all stolen from the cooler box reserved for the kids. And that’s not even mentioning breakfast, lunch and tea yet! As you may have noticed, I take my gluttony very seriously.


Me showing my 'son' Chadman how to give me the biggest hug he's got!

What’s next for me? Well, I’ll be guest model for a fashion event next week at Club Twenty One, on 2nd April. The monthly series called Fashfab will this time feature an upcoming designer called Micky Tan. The collection she’s presenting will be full of colourful, floaty and fanciful pieces. I hope I will do her brand justice! For those who are interested, check out this event on Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/home.php#/event.php?eid=59349858436&ref=ts

What I’m most excited about right now that I’ve just been selected to participate in an exclusive and very intensive 3-week Shakespearean workshop at KL Performing Arts Centre. I’ve always had an inherent fear of Shakespeare simply because it was something beyond my comprehension, but all the more reason why I decided to take it on. And like what ballet is to dance, Shakespeare pretty much forms the foundation of excelling in theatre. So last Friday, I auditioned for it before Joe Hasham, one of the biggest names in Malaysian theatre and a man whose presence always leaves my stomach bursting with anxiety. I thought I bombed, but he assured me I did alright. And I never expected to get a phonecall of confirmation of my placement 3 days later! It will be conducted by Australian veteran performer and director Jeff Kevin. There will be a workshop performance on 24-26 April at KLPac. I am super psyched for the challenge.

Can you believe that I’ve primarily narrated about what has transpired over the past 7 days?

And to think that I have a full time job in event management too.

Part of me just wants to fall sick so I have an excuse to not. move. at. all.

Citizen 3, this is Auckland. Auckland, Citizen 3.

One of the first short plays I've ever written, 'Citizen 3', is premiering in New Zealand tomorrow tonight.

And I'm not there to watch it.

It's a very heart-wrenching feeling, not being present at a huge milestone in my career as a writer. I wish I could slink into the theatre, find a corner seat and hear the first lines being uttered in darkness, butterflies and all, gravity-oblivious, nervous as f***.

I initially wrote about the playwriting process here, and it still never ceases to amaze me how the words that have rolled off my fingers have the capability of reaching audiences through a multi-sensory medium, let alone in another part of the world that I have yet to set foot in.

I unfortunately wasn't able to find a sponsor to fund my trip over, especially in such financially troubling times. But I do feel privileged and honored and blessed that people have enough faith in my talents to share it on an international level.

To my scriptwriting mentor Tony Forster, I am in awe of you, and thank you so graciously for your guidance. Alex and Gerald, thank you for your input on 'Citizen 3', and for injecting so much passion into Oryza and what it stands for.

And to my director Yee Yang aka Square, gosh. I don't know where to start with my appreciation for the ridiculous amounts of hard work that you have put into this production. I know there have been times where I didn't really make things any less chaotic. But it never went unfelt, and your calibre humbles me, always. Next time you come back to KL, I'm gonna make sure we're not going to start and end our encounter with something as tragic as a rushed lunch again.

To my fellow writers Hiroshi, Mei-Lin, Kiel, Mukilan, Misa, Renee and Ying Ly, it's humbling to be put in the same league as all of you. Congratulations and may this production evoke and inspire, and lead to more phenomenal representations of the world's Asian community.

To the actors of 'Citizen 3': Leand, Alvin, Andrea and John, thank you so much for being a part of my vision. May you have fun portraying the characters as much as I had fun creating them.

I know I have missed out many more who are responsible for making this a success, so to all the cast and crew of Asian Tales™: Native Alienz - BREAK A LEG!

For those who just happen to be in Auckland as they read this, do yourself a favor and watch this.

For more info about the play and ticket details, visit The Oryza Foundation website.

The day he Rocked and I Rolled Over

The other day I was at my aunt's house. And visits to relatives are usually associated with mundane chit-chat about the careers of nephews and nieces, the hobbies of nephews and nieces, the love life of nephews and nieces - because really, us nephews and nieces are the sole reason why aunts have anything to talk about at all. Apart from the latest episode of Oprah.

So yes, aunt's house, which I haven't been to in at least half a year I can easily estimate. Everyone has congregated in the dining room for tea. And whaddya know, my cousin's back from Perth on holiday! That was a pleasant surprise. And she's brought along her guy friend.

A really tough looking guy friend.

I introduce myself to him. He grips my hand and tugs it gently.

"Hi, I'm Eric," he says with a raspy American lilt.

I sit down in the empty chair next to him, and my mom initiates the E! Entertainment update session at the other end of the table.

As we all wait for the milk tea, fried bananas and kuih lapis to be brought to the table, I observe the newcomer from the corner of my eye: long-haired, weathered, tattooed and well-built. Almost Hell's Angels-like, but with a mild enough presence to make one suspect that he bears a capability to stop his bike in mid-cruise to pluck a caterpillar from the middle of the road and place it in a nearby bush.

I can't remember what I exactly asked him next: a toss-up between "So how do you find Malaysia so far?" or "How do you find the weather here?" or "How long is your trip in KL for?" - something that makes me acknowledge him as part of my extended family but at the same time trying my best not to give away my previous obliviousness to him being a part of it to begin with.

His reply includes how much he loves the weather here. "It's just like home! I stay in California."

"Ah! I see. So what do you do?"

"I play drums."

Ah, a musician. That explains the rocker appearance.

"Wow, okay. Who do you play for?"

"Um, have you heard of the band called KISS?"

As in, KISS?

As in, KISS??


As in, KISS???


As in, KISS????


As in, OMGWTFBBQ KISS??!!?!


"Oh yes! I do."

"Yeah. I play for them."

"Oh! Oh cool. Okay. Cool... Cool."

I turn away and reach for my freshly-poured mug of tea. While a member of one of the greatest rock legends in the history of human existence sits next to me. In my aunt's humble abode in SS2. Munching on a buttery slice of kuih lapis.

The WTF-ness raging in my head, at that moment in time, could have been easily considered as revolutionary research material for the world's alternative renewable energy resources.

My cousin met Eric while he was touring with the band in Perth over a year ago. And for some reason, I was the only one who wasn't aware of this. How I can be denied of the knowledge of my remote association with sheer awesomeness, is irrelevant now. I'm too busy screaming for Eric in the moshpit of my cranium stadium.

Wedding bells, I beg of you, please ring soon.

More about Eric Singer can be found on his website.

I bereave, I can fry

People who have played sports with me in the past, no matter what type, would probably be able to testify that I lack technique. What they would also be able to testify would be that I don't give a damn about it until someone screams foul.

"There's a fire in your eyes when I see you play. It's the trait that sportspeople have, it's what makes them want to win," my first boyfriend told me at the college sports carnival. "Don't lose that fire. It's a good thing to have."

That fire I believe is fueled by a very unhealthy level of frustration aimed at my father's disapproval for me picking up Tae Kwon Do as a youngster.

"You'll end up with bruises all over. Girls shouldn't get hurt like that, you know?" he said in his overbearingly compassionate tone. Most young adults can admit that anything told to you by your parents in that exact tone in the most formative stages of your life is most likely to be etched into your brain as the unquestionable truth for a very long time, even when it's complete obvious hogwash.

(Not to say that it's not too late to pick up Tae Kwon Do right now, but I need to figure out if I'd be able to stay committed to the sport with my current double life as a performer and corporate whore. The word 'committed'... Such a lame word that grown-ups incoporate into their grown-up excuses.)

So my testosterone-deprived childhood has instilled in me not only a 'fire', but also an opportunist attidute towards pain - cuts, bruises, weeping lesions... whenever there is a chance of pain, I will enjoy the gamble. Just to prove that when it does happen, a woman can seriously take it.

The other day, I was at my weekly futsal session with my regular gang. And it just so happened that I was the only girl playing that day. My dude mates generally play hard but a couple of them tend to get a little wary whenever I come within a 5-foot radius.

One of them is Izmir. A real tiger on the court, but cannot live with himself if he comes into any physical contact with a girl during the game. I played defense and got in his way, and he trampled on my toes by accident. Despite my assurances that I was perfectly fine, the rate and magnitude of his apologies, which he continued offering at every chance he got as the game ensued, made it seem like he ran over my foot with a steamroller. "Just play on, man!" I kept insisting.

"I'm sorry, I just don't believe that girls should get hurt," he explained.

*TZ'NG*

He swiftly yanked out the ring out of my testosterone grenade. It imploded in my throat. I swallowed it all down, smiled politely, and carried on playing.

Toward the end of the hour, the boys were all out to get each other, blissfully ignoring the stick woman who was serving as a mere distraction to the game; a grey strand in a raven mane, the hint of a boom mike in a student film, the skin of a corn kernel stuck in between two te-

*WHACK*

The ball sent shockwaves through my shoulder.

The court collectively gasped and fell silent. I looked at them, their faces contorted in horror.

Then one boy uttered those three special words.

"Are you okay?"

*TZ'NG*

I tried swallowing it, but it erupted the wrong way. Perhaps in a similar fashion that you try and open a bag of Twisties as neatly and discreetly as possible, but should the bag have a rebellious streak it could catch you by surprise and send all of its contents flying in all directions.

Verbal Twisties shot out of my mouth in all directions, followed by an interpretive dance of a gremlin who just lost its toenail in the key of Foul.

I AM FINE I AM A WOMAN AND I CAN TAKE WHATEVER YOU THROW AT ME JUST BECAUSE I HAVE TITS DOESN'T MEAN I AM MADE OF FREAKIN' FLOWERS FOR GOD'S SAKE WE GO THROUGH FREAKIN' CHILDBIRTH TO BRING YOU GUYS INTO THIS WORLD MY GOD WHY DON'T YOU

"Whoa... uh, Davina?"

GUYS GET WITH THE BLOODY PROGRAM-TZSTTAAGGHHT-GEEEAAARRCHEEYIII-DEERIKTAYPHOOYAA

"Chill woman..."

STOOPPEEEDDAASSWWIIPPEEECHEELAKAPOOKEEMARICKYMARTIN
"DAVINA!"

I jolted out of my fit, chest heaving, head throbbing, shoulder burning.

Quick strange glances were shared before the boys gingerly recommenced with the ball.

All of them came up to me after the match to check that I was fine. Fine from the outburst or fine from the blow - I wasn't too sure, but all the same and luckily for them, I was out of Twisties. All I could do was nod half-heartedly in assurance that I would not go crying home to my mommy about being bullied by a bunch of ruffians who don't know how to take precautions when playing with dainty little fairy princesses.

From now on I should seriously start remembering to take off my makeup before playing.

M is for Mickey and MTV

*Phew*, what a crazy week that had just passed!

Last week, I was cast as a hip hop dancer for a music video. It was a super last-minute thing as one of the dancers had dropped out suddenly, and I was informed about being selected only after three out of five rehearsal sessions had already passed! And out of those two 2-hour rehearsals I did manage to attend, I could only make it for an hour of each. So you can imagine how jittery I was on shoot day. Luckily there were seven other dancers to divert attention away from my pitiful fumbling, and because I was the tallest female dancer, I was naturally placed in the back row anyway.

A music video for what, you may ask? This is the coolomondo-est thing: to promote the Asian premiere of the Disney Channel Original Movie, Camp Rock. Indeed, after an endless string of casting calls for the role of 'Mother' over the past three years, I finally get one more shot at passing off as a teenager. Who cares if I'm twice as big and wrinkled and body-discoordinated as the other kids on set? It's freaking Disney, man.

The song we performed to is from the soundtrack, called 'Hasta La Vista'. It has a surprisingly bold and almost dirty street sound to it, which the brand name obviously isn't very synonymous with. But of course the lyrics are squeaky clean. It was a really fun song to dance to. The shoot was done completely in green screen, and apparently there will be a shot of me getting groovy with krumping smurfs or something like that.

The music video will premiere on Disney Channel Asia sometime in August.



The weekend before that, my sister Steph and I also went for the auditions for the MTV Asia Awards 2008 moshpit at Zouk. Who would've figured that you'd have to audition to be in a moshpit, eh?

(The event brought back fond memories of the time I won a trip to Bangkok to catch the awards back in 2005, in a freestyle dance contest held at Zouk as well. Back then though, it was called the MTV Asia Aid in light of the tsunami crisis. I didn't document it in my blog as I set up Retardation Nation only right after my return, but here's the flashback picture, with fellow Malaysian winner Tony.)



This year, VJ Utt was in town to help facilitate the auditions, and candidates were forewarned that moshers at the awards itself would not be allowed to have food, drink nor toilet breaks during whole three hours of showtime, with strictly no cameras allowed.

Auditionees were let into the club in groups of twenty or so. We were led onto the dancefloor, with crazy lights and party music cranked up to the max. The one and only instruction given to us: Mosh like your life depends on it.

Utt and other MTV crew guys walked around the dancefloor, placing an MTV sticker on anyone worthy of gracing the occasion with their jumping-screaming-dynamo-madness.

Guess who's headed up to Genting this Saturday.



Anyone up for joining my quest to drink Jared Leto's bathwater?

Travelling without moving

On a personal note, I’m going through a super rough patch. It's ironic that in my last post, I seem like the picture of success. But I'm pretty much left for dead on the inside, and I can only force myself to put on a smile for the world and, in the words of Go West, pretend my ship's not sinking.

I’m currently dealing with the aftermath of an extremely ugly breakup. Over the past month I have seen things I did not need to see, heard things I did not need to hear, sensed things I should have never ignored.

It’s painful that no matter how and whatever ways I’ve tried to cope with the situation, it can still come around and bite me in the arse even harder. It's so true how it's always the good guys who lose out in the end.

What’s worse is that after all has been said and done, no matter how unadvisable it is to turn back, I catch myself doing just that. The desperate desire to make amends when it's obviously way past the point of repair. Trying my best not to shoulder responsibilities that weren’t mine, trying not to regret, trying not to excavate a resolution or any sense of logic through the carnage. It’s the first time in my existence that hope is seen as such a bad thing to have.

It’s strange how it only takes an experience as immense and intense as this to make you read the conditions of Life in fine print. And it’s astounding how all it can take is just one person to send your whole life crashing down in flames. The hurt I’m going through right now is a riveting one that I’ve ever felt before; it mutilates every aspect of my being – mental, emotional, physical, spiritual, and the miscellaneous cracks in between. It’s that all-consuming force that can so easily render all of my blessings meaningless if I allow it to.

It intimidates me and yet it comforts me, knowing that I am capable of investing all of my strength and faith into that occasionally fraudulent little institution the people call Love.

There’s no shortcut out of this funk, and that's really retarded.

At least there’s still a dog waiting for me to come home tonight.