Retardation Nation

speaking of today.

2009-12-02T13:19:00.007+08:00

I guess it has become almost like a tradition to post myself a message. Like I hear people in my head rattling spoons against champagne glasses shouting “SPEECH! SPEEEEECH!” And for the sake of those imaginary people who think I am worthy of their attention at least for this moment, I shall appease.

For the first time in my 27 years of existence, apart from writing this out, I have no intention of exerting any additional effort or emphasis on self-indulgence this 2nd December. It will come naturally with what I will be getting up to today. For everyone around me, it’s my birthday. For me, it’s one day away from opening night for the most extensive involvement I’ve ever taken on in theatre.

Christopher Ling is an important person to me in my life as a performer. In 2000, Chris selected me to be a member of his project Rep16:21, one of the pioneering youth theatre ensembles in Malaysia. The Swimming Instructor will be the first time we’re working together in nine years. The creative reunion has been nothing less than spectacular. And the playwright, the exceptional Desmond Sim, has written a story that is fun and frivolous as much as it is fragile and emotionally profound. It is such a privilege and honor to be on board this production, and I’m sure my co-stars Michael Chen and Niki Cheong would concur. I hope you enjoy watching what we’ve been conjuring over the past 2 months.

Today is a big day. Michael will be picking me up from my office at lunchtime to head over to the KL Performing Arts Centre, where we will be running the play three times over, including the final preview which would serve as a mockup of the actual staging tomorrow night. THEN! Niki, Michael and I will be rushing off to raid Sri Pentas studios for a guest spot on the notoriously cool 8TV Quickie at 11.30pm. Out of all the publicity gigs we’ve been engaged in to promote the play, this our first time ‘live’ as a threesome, so I can only be left to imagine how crazy that’s gonna turn out.

The birthday wishes that started trickling in since yesterday are but gentle reminders of how far I have come to be here and do what I love, and knowing that there are people out there who distinguish and support me for who I am, what I do and what I stand for. And for that, I am grateful. Seriously, sincerely, comprehensively grateful.

I wish to share with you guys something that happened to me two months ago. I’ll try and be as concise as possible! I was walking towards a bus stop to go to Midvalley for a magazine shoot. The designated bus zoomed by me as I was strolling on the sidewalk, and I broke into a sprint to try and catch it. I did thankfully, but shortly upon embarking I had realized that my cellphone had jumped out of my open pouch compartment on my knapsack. But I was already running late for my shoot, so I decided to travel to Midvalley to report to the crew and perhaps get some help to go back look for it. The designer drove me to the stretch of sidewalk that I had started sprinting from. There was a fair bit of road construction going on in that area, and two workers there asked me if I was looking for a phone. I affirmed their suspicions, and they mentioned that someone had found a phone and asked them if it belonged to anyone at the site. When they said ‘No’, he decided to take it with him. One of the workers offered to call my number. It went straight to voice mail. I panicked, thinking that this person had removed my SIM card already. Surprisingly, my own number called back 2 minutes later. The person on the other line couldn’t speak English very well, but he said that I could collect my phone from him at Bangsar Shopping Centre, which was a 7-minute drive away. I told him I would call again when I got there. I hugged both workers for their help – the first one reacted with shock, the second was more than eager to receive. My designer, who was waiting for me at the side of the road, picked me up and took me to BSC, but not without facing a terrible traffic jam. When I arrived there, BSC was still closed but there was a lot of renovations going on at the side of the centre. I called my phone and it went to voicemail again. It did so for the next 15 minutes. Maybe the guy was calling his home country to make the most out of this opportunity before returning the phone. I stepped out of the car and went scouting around the renovation site for someone to speak to, and found the supervisor. I told him about my predicament, and he asked for the name of the person I spoke to. Dangit, I forgot to ask! The supervisor said he couldn’t help me without a name and advised me to give up calling and just get a new phone. I thanked him and returned to the car. Over an hour had passed since my search had begun, and my designer said that we needed to return to Midvalley already as we were holding up the rest of the crew already at the shoot location. I requested to try calling one more time. I got through, and the person picked up. We asked for his name, what he was wearing. He said “Just come around to the other side of the Centre, where the bus stop is. I will be there.” And he hung up. We drove around the lot as he had directed, and there he was. A construction worker, emerging from the car park. In dirty yellow boots, dirty yellow helmet, clothes stained in earth and grime. And he was holding my silly old yellow backlight cellphone. When he saw my ecstatic face as I drove past him, he smiled a weary morning smile. I leapt from the car, he handed over my phone and I thanked him profusely, and whipped out some money as a token for his honesty. He reeled back and said ‘No! No!’ In defiance, almost. And he scurried away back into the car park to resume his duties. When I checked my phone for any international calls made within the past hour and a half, there were none. No local calls either, for that matter. The only reason for the voicemail prompt was that the worker was in a low reception area. The worker had seemingly picked up my phone for the sole intention of wanting to return it to its rightful owner.

I dedicate today to the three people who helped me that day. The three foreign construction workers who held no expectations nor no hidden agendas. Three unassuming people who, despite working for minimum wages, saw no benefit in keeping a valuable item of communication for themselves. Three people who, on any other given day, would probably not be granted the chance to renew anyone else’s faith in human caliber. I am thankful that my negligence granted them that golden chance.

Which leads me to my birthday wish! I wish for all my friends to practice gratitude to the people who offer us their services to make our everyday living that much more tolerable, but are the very ones who are so easily taken for granted. Do not be selective with your kindness! Show these guys the same graciousness and goodwill you would express to your friends. Whether it be a garbage man, a toll booth collector, a bus driver, a street sweeper, a postman, a security guard. You don’t even need to say anything to them. If you happen to pass them at all today, just flash them a smile, acknowledge them for their contribution to the community. You never know what beautiful smile may emerge from the most indifferent countenance.

And with that, I shall leave you with a wonderful song that a dear friend of mine Ashaari has recently shared with me. It’s by The Artist Formerly Known As Cat Stevens.

Don’t be shy with your gratitude!

Oh, and don’t forget to show up at my play too, or I will hunt you down and give you tard germs.
Purchasing tickets from Axcess
Facebook event page

Thank you everyone for your wishes. You have my heart, as always.

Davina

Radio Blah Blah

2009-07-27T10:44:00.008+08:00

This was one of the most randomest windows of opportunity that fell into my lap last week.

My friend Johnny dropped me an online message to ask if I was up for a radio interview with one of the coolest newer stations around, Business FM (BFM 89.9), in less than 24 hours. I immediately said yes, then I had to send in relevant materials about myself so that the station could prepare relevant questions for the interview.

I was nervous as heck since I know what a rambler I can be, and how my spontaneity - or rather lack of it - tends to leave me with endless shoulda-woulda-couldas long after the moment is over. But Johnny, who tuned in to the broadcast, assured me that I did a good job. He's one of the frankest BS-free people I know, so I can trust the fella.

I'm always so humbled to know that people out there would be interested in what I have to say, about myself and what I do, and I hope I provided a decent self-representation to those who are not familiar with my work.

Here's the podcast:

Part 1

Part 2

Thanks loads to Freda, the gorgeous radio announcer who facilitated my interview. She handled my nerves superbly well, and I must give props to anyone who successfully handles MY nerves. They can become quite ridiculous.

It's always fun getting thrown into new experiences with an audience, it combines two of my greatest loves: learning and sharing. Thanks loads for listening.

The Yakkity Yak on Sarawak (Part 2)

2009-07-21T11:03:00.002+08:00

On 12th July 2009, right after the finale performance at the Rainforest World Music Festival in Sarawak, I lost my digital camera. It contained almost 4 gigabytes of videos and photos taken over 4 days in Sarawak, which I had planned to put together for my first big little personal montage project.

The loss has not been felt entirely yet; I cannot compute how such trigger-happy efforts can be rewarded with such a brutal blow. In the meantime however, in a bid to document the memories in any form I still can, I have been compelled to write the journal of my 5-day trip in Sarawak, complete with a sappy mention of the notable videos taken each day.

All things happen for a reason, and I hope you enjoy the long silly ride of this reason.

I forgot to mention in the last post that on our first night, Nur, Alfred, Mandra, Sam and I all stepped out for a late night walk along the beach, which was a 5 minute walk away from our cabin. There we marveled at the stars and kicked at the low tide. Sam and I started taking wicked long exposure shots of us writing our names and drawing hearts in the air with cellphone lights. We were having an absolute ball until some staff member from an adjacent resort chased us off the beach by order of his management; apparently to have people chillaxing by a beautiful midnight shore is ‘not nice’.
He damn right it’s not nice. It’s f**king brilliant.

10th July 2009

Town 'n' Out
I voluntarily plug some Jack Johnson into Nur’s speakers to enhance the joy of everyone waking up in our own time. We decide to head into Kuching town to meet up with extra bunkers Miranda and Jeremy and have lunch. The closest shuttle service into Kuching is situated at the entrance of the Sarawak Cultural Village, where the festival is being held. The venue is 20-minute walk from our resort. Nur and Alfred welcome the noonday sun with a generous slathering of tanning oil.

We redeem our access wrist tags to avoid the crowds later, and take a brisk walk around the village while we wait for the next shuttle out. The ride into town lasts an hour. Nur and Alfred hit the sack almost immediately, Sam’s jetlag keeps him up and both of us take pictures of rolling hills and shimmering lakes before I also let my consciousness dissipate into the tropical heat. When we step off the coach in Kuching, Alfred bumps into Paul and Marcie, two of his friends who happened to be walking in our direction. They’re also here for the festival and have rented a car to get around easier in. (I mention this point because it is imperative to an incident that happens just the day after.) We dine at a café that serves the greatest incarnation of ABC (Air Batu Campur = ‘Mixed Ice’ in direct Malay translation) I have ever sacrificed my sensitive teeth to: corn, lychee, jackfruit and apple mixed with pink sago and coconut agar jelly in a small mountain of shaved ice. Bliss in a bowl.

We walked around a bit around the city, including a quick stopover to the post office (which was a tourist site in itself) for Sam to send some postcards. On the way there, we pose by a hedge and I literally singe my hands on the afternoon pavement whilst attempting to pull off a baby freeze. We walk by a long strip of handicraft shops along the famous Kuching Waterfront and there are tons of things I’d want to buy. We’ll be spending the whole day in Kuching on the last day of the trip so I keep my purchases minimal – so far, just a couple of wood bracelets and an elaborate bead necklace that had ‘so totally beach party like omg’ written all over it.

We manage to buy food and drink supplies from a nearby grocery store, and take the next shuttle back to the Village. Little do we know though, that the coach has to check off a detailed schedule of designated spots around Kuching town before hitting the long road, stretching the hour-long journey by another 30 minutes. My nap is too scattered to offer rejuvenation, and immobile aircon vents are steering arctic winds into my frostbitten face.

Warming up
We finally reach the village and hike back to our cabin to prepare for the night’s festivities. Whilst gearing up at the cabin, a roar of thunder makes the wooden boards under our feet quiver. A sudden storm brings out the hydrophilic properties out of some mates and they cheer in anticipation. I don a big red disposable rain poncho much to the enjoyment of anti- and pro-rain advocates alike. The thing about rain ponchos is that the mini sauna effect they create from your body heat leaves you drenched all the same. I have always been one to place novelty before contradiction.

When we arrive at the village the crowd still seems manageable. We make a beeline for the food area. As with festival protocol, it’s hard to not pick a meal that doesn’t look nutritionally fulfilling. I end up making a slightly pricey but worthwhile purchase of Sarawak kolomee noodles done vegetarian style. I am even granted the request of extra veggies – judging from the overzealous helping of carrot and cucumber shavings, I take it that the guy manning the stall is very appreciative of me taking the chances on his meat alternative of tofu-mushroom mush. From the live projector screens we watch Noreummachi, an elaborately costumed percussion-horn troupe from Korea. Their appeal lies in their hats – they perform gymnastic ribbon routines entirely with their hats. They fling their heads about and twirl the ribbons above and around them in impeccable synchronization. All the troupe members must have very robust necks. Also imperative when it comes to dating a bumper car enthusiast or suffering from chronic nosebleeds.

After eating, we head down to the field where the two main stages are. The rain has now demoted itself to a drizzle but its wrath has left the ground in a diaper gravy state – brown, viscous, strangely putrid, and deep enough to induce a voracious appetite for loose-fitting footwear. I resort to stashing my slippers away into my drawstring bag with a clean-looking plastic bag I salvage from an open garbage bin.

The drawbacks of going cheapo and choosing ‘Heavy Duty’ over Alkaline
I type this out however I cannot recall much of the rest of the evening, despite the festival pass being the biggest investment of the day and embodying the whole idea of going to Sarawak in the first place. Perhaps because the rest of the performances that night were not really up my alley. Perhaps my memory is selectively appalling. All I do remember is my right foot aching immensely from the unleveled ground (an old injury re-ignited through physical exertion at work and a bad move in indoor soccer); walking out of the field as the final group of the night (Poum Tchack from France) began and thinking, damn, I would so stay on and dance to this funky accordion stuff if my eyelids weren’t so heavy and my feet weren’t so buggered, having my mate Dave Beasley (I must write his name out in full because I think Beasley is one of the most awesomest surnames on the planet) for company at the stoney pavement rear end of the viewing field, passing out in an upright fetal position and occasionally waking up to remind myself that I wasn’t in bed at home and then checking that noone had stolen my bag from between my legs.

Strange how I don’t drink and I can’t even remember how I got back to the cabin. But in the morning I did find in my pocket a fare ticket for a snowmobile.

PHOTOS / VIDEOS TAKEN: Making fun of Nur and Alfred sleeping on the bus, Sarawak Cultural Village by day, the empty stage area, Sam climbing halfway a coconut tree and making it bend, mud mud mud

NEXT ENTRY: Orang Utans, Rescue, Tongues, attractive Portuguese sapiens

The Yakkity Yak on Sarawak (Part 1)

2009-07-16T21:51:00.004+08:00

Won't you take me to :) town

2009-06-01T00:36:00.006+08:00

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

2009-03-27T13:23:00.005+08:00

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.

2009-02-11T10:17:00.012+08:00

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

2008-11-11T09:43:00.018+08:00

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

2008-09-16T17:50:00.010+08:00

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

2008-07-30T13:54:00.009+08:00

*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

2008-07-15T11:10:00.010+08:00

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.

Whoa, like, what just happened here

2008-07-14T09:47:00.014+08:00

Yeah, I know… it’s been a while, huh?

It’s been a crazy year so far. Career, family, personal life – I won’t say it’s looking grim just yet, but I’m just a lot more *anxious* about everything, how my future’s going to pan out.

What has happened...

Malaysiantalents.com

From what you guys last heard, the online mockumentary show malaysiantalents.com was received with good reviews from people who ‘got’ the humor, and not-so-good-reviews from people who… well, didn’t. But I’m really, really, proud of that show. I’m glad that Douglas roped me in for it, created everyone’s characters with the actors already in mind, and just let the sparks fly. Everyone that was involved in that show had such a manic-fun time with it, and I have a feeling it shows. It’s a series that has dared to broaden the spectrum of Malaysian humor, and I hope that such a feat will perhaps beg for a second season. We’ll just have to see.

Pix courtesy of Nick Dorian

Douglas Lim and his tard of a PA

Filming the last episode with special guest Joanna Bessey

Water, water, everywhere

An old college mate of mine Adrian Loh had managed to track me down with a personal interest to feature me in his short film – an offbeat teenage love story between a jock, and a girl who has an abnormal aversion to water. His first intentions to film it was to submit it to a local short film competition. However, we were to cut it really close to the deadline so after careful thinking, he had decided to miss the competition, take his time with making the film, and make sure that the end product would be something really spectacular.

And true enough, it is in the midst of becoming something quite like that. Adrian and his fellow directing extraordinaire Manesh had put together a kickass filmmaking crew with a couple of the biggest names in the business, and all done on a voluntary basis for the sake of ‘making something beautiful’. My mate Alfred Loh was cast as my love interest, and for all the directors out there who are unaware of the chemistry that Alfred and I share, just be forewarned that should anyone plan to cast us in the same production, a lot of unproductive time should be anticipated. From the 3-week rehearsal prior to the shoot right up until the cameras rolled, Alfred and I were goofing off like mad, the kings of comedy in our special little world of two. But when crunch time did happen, the results were super rad. Adrian and Manesh are indeed being meticulous with the post-production: it’s been about three months since the shoot wrapped, and we re-recorded our voices for some of the scenes just a couple of weeks ago. But from what I had seen so far through the dubbing sessions, I have a feeling that such patience will be very well rewarded. If it comes out the way everyone hopes it will, I can dare say that it’s one of my proudest achievements as an actor. Adrian and Manesh managed to stretch the limits of my capacity to get into a character with such a bizarre affliction, and I’ve been so honored to work with such great storytellers. I do hope the show will get some form of recognition when the guys start distributing it around the international film festival circuit. Oh, and did I not mention the name of the film yet? ‘Baby The Rain Will Fall’. Serious shite, man.

Here are some pics from photographer Fabian Leong.

Alfred and I going through a scene with Manesh

Either my makeup for this scene was so damn good, or I'm just that good.

All this rain came from a fire truck! Freezing to the bone.

Oh, the pain of walking away.

Alfred, Manesh, Adrian, Me

Just Cruisin'

Paula Vogel’s How I Learned To Drive was a theatre production that has made me grow as a thespian as well. It was presented by youth theatre group The Oral Stage, and after a 2-month rehearsal process it was staged at the Actors Studio in June for a strictly limited run. People find it hard to believe that I did it on a pro bono basis, but it was an opportunity I could not afford to miss – the characters were so REAL, and the script was so witty, poignant, provocative, all in all unbelievably good. Compounded with the current trend in Malaysia being musicals, the chance at reciting dialogue without the fear of being interrupted by a song and dance routine seemed impossible to turn down. The fact that everyone was in it, once again, for the love of doing it, AND for the final product to be of top-notch professional material, such attitudes to the arts scene are few and far between. With no financial backing whatsoever, The Oral Stage is doing something truly remarkable as one of the only active youth theatre groups around. As for the actual run, I was pleased with it. It doesn’t occur to many that this was actually my first-ever performance as a theatre actor - one with a considerable amount of weight, at least. The play focused on the modern tale of a girl whose innocence was robbed from her by her uncle, how such circumstances play out in her growth as a woman, and how it also affects the people around her. I played a multitude of roles, the chunkier ones being the Mother and the wife of the uncle, Aunt Mary (I played sisters, basically). Both characters were extremely challenging! One was outwardly bold and opinionated, the other docile and empathetic, but both very fragile. And I had to stay on stage for the entirety of the play, so no chance to hurry backstage and get a character switch in order. No amount of rehearsals would be able to prepare you for the influx of anxiety that comes with opening night. We had our fair share of hiccups throughout, and there were times where I found it hard to fine-tune myself to the unpredictable nature of theatre. Maladjustments aside, I hope my contribution did justice to the story. The feedback from audiences was mixed, but generally constructive and encouraging. Surprisingly, from what I’ve been informed by my director, I was apparently a crowd favorite! I can’t be the judge of my own performance, but I’m glad that there are people out there who appreciate what I do, and what I love doing. It really keeps me going, and I’m grateful.

Pix courtesy of Nicholas Chin and Michael Yip

The cast (L-R): Doreen Loo, Tard, Amelia Chen, Johann Lim, Mark Beau de Silva

'A Mother's Guide to Social Drinking' monologue

Schoolgirls in 'A Walk Down Mammary Lane'

As the anguished Aunt Mary

Group bow... Only after seeing this picture did I realize why my right arm felt so awkward.

What’s gonna happen

Let's get physical

I’ve just started rehearsals for a physical theatre piece, once again presented by The Oral Stage. It’s called 'Match’ - a performance about love, sex and relationships, and loosely based on Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. It will be staged in Singapore next month as part of Celebrate Drama 2008, a community-based festival organized by the Singapore Drama Educators Association. My director and fellow performer in this one, Kelvin Wong (cute-little-goth pixie-turned-cute-little-punk-pixie) approached me to take this on, believing that I’d have the physical competency to pull it off. But with the theme firmly in place, I have actually been extremely apprehensive about my participation, particularly with the trauma I've just gone through with my ex. When I started hearing the music tracks that Kelvin was considering, I started crying buckets, and panicked at the thought that I just wasn't ready for this. But after thinking it through thoroughly, I’ve decided to go ahead with it. Trying to push all my personal trials aside and presenting myself as a performer will be a challenge I feel is worth tackling.

The role as 'Speaking Extra'

I’ll be making a teeny tiny appearance in a Singaporean indie film called ‘The Funeral Party’, as ‘Employee No. 3’. Haha. I had originally auditioned for the role of a Chinese national who happens to be someone’s mistress, and I’m glad I didn’t get that (I don’t think I’m ready for a sex scene just yet!) It features a nice mix of actors from both sides of the Causeway, the main actor being the one and only Patrick Teoh. So yes, I shall be filming that in Penang in one day next month. Wishful thinking, but I hope to catch up with Patrick and meet some Singaporean stars when I’m over there.

Back to TV

I’ve been confirmed to star in a Malaysian teenage drama TV series that will start shooting in the next couple of months, and will premiere on 8TV around this time next year. The show originally had a main cast of 5 males, with 2 supporting females. I tried out for both girls, and after watching my audition playback tape, the writer/director decided to CREATE A WHOLE NEW CHARACTER FOR ME. I sure as heck didn’t see that coming and I’m lost for words about that! So I’ll be appearing in basically every other episode, from what I gather, to add a bit of kookiness to the show. I don’t know what more I’m actually allowed to say right now, so to be safe I’ll reveal more details as they come along.

Kiwi trippin'

I’ve written a short play that’s been selected to be part of a project in New Zealand, called Asian Tales™: Native Alienz. It’s organized by a non-profit organization called the Oryza Foundation For Asian Performing Arts. My submission is called ‘Citizen 3’, and is one of six 10-minute plays selected to be developed further and professionally staged in Auckland in February 2009.
The call for scripts was originally open to New Zealanders only, for the sake of fulfilling contact hours with the dramaturge during the development phase. But word got around online, and they ended up taking in a play from Malaysia (mine), and another from Hawaii. So the Hawaiian writer and I have been attending the workshops via Skype. Those happened over April and May, and those sessions were real eye-openers. Call me a country bumpkin but that was the first time I had ever participated in a live online video conference, and it was such a rush! To talk to people on the other side of the world as they hold MY script in THEIR hands, to watch foreign actors say lines I wrote, act out scenes I created, and waiting for ME to offer feedback… that was like, totally whoa. . Despite ‘Citizen 3’ only being 10 minutes long, through the workshops I’ve felt how much I’ve grown together with my play, and as a writer. My whole involvement in this project has come really unexpectedly, considering the fact that this is only my second attempt at playwriting. For people to see the potential in it, and to grant me this opportunity… well, for lack of a better word, I’m freakin’ stoked. I’ve been invited to catch the preview performances and the full staging. With my fingers crossed, I’d be able to find sponsors to aid me financially in my quest to travel to Auckland to grace such occasions in my physical form. And making sure that I get back to Malaysia, of course! A little bit of positivity never hurt anybody. If you’re interested in finding out more about Asian Tales™: Native Alienz, you can check out Oryza’s website (It strikes me at how they put my ethnicity simply as ‘Chinese’… I feel quite undeserving of it, an opinion that merely exemplifies the inspiration for my piece!)

Shucks, I don’t really feel as busy as it looks! I guess when you’ve got your mind on something all the time, you just don’t realize such things, and for half a year to just slip right past your nose like that, it’s darn scary.

That's it for now. Thanks for reading, I’ll catch up with you guys soon.

X marks the spot

2008-03-05T12:29:00.002+08:00

Love can make you do some pretty crazy things.

It can make people spend money.

It can make people make sacrifices.

And it can make the most ignorant retard in Malaysia want to vote.

Yes, I love my country too much to let my trademark naivete get the better of me this time round. Personally I never thought I'd be the sort who would've ever been able to understand the mechanics of our 'democracy' thoroughly enough to know what's good for my country. I chose to be ignorant because I felt that politics had nothing to do with me and would not affect me in any way as long as I looked the other way. But I've come to realize 2 things:

1) That no matter how indirectly it happens, the way a country is ruled inevitably permeates the way every one of its citizens leads his or her everyday life.

2) That I don't have to be a political scientist to understand the importance of voting. A government like Malaysia's proves its incompetency so audaciously that even a dullard such as yours truly will know that something is just not right anymore.

The thought of voting intimidates me - the process, the logistics, the act of contibuting to the fate of my country, knowing that I'm capable of making a decision that could result in something better or worse for everyone. At the same time, it's kind of weird-exciting. I'm glad I've finally decided to do my best to find out what I want for Malaysia, for myself, for my future generations. It's not an obligation as much as it is a favour.

A change, anyone?

But I don't wanna grow up...

2008-02-06T12:36:00.000+08:00

Since the last post, I guess you can figure that a lot has changed. And you're probably right. It would be interesting to get an outsider's point of view about how my life has been going because I'm suspecting that I'm not much of a credible source anymore. You know when you watch a war movie with all those soldiers stumbling around in an aimless daze right after a bomb has exploded real close to them? I think I sorta kinda feel like that.

There's been loads stuff that's been blowing up in my face... family stuff, work stuff, relationship stuff, pretty much the basic things that most people function on and take for granted these days... I miss the normalcy of it all. I catch myself complaining about it sometimes, despite the fact that on a bigger-picture comparison, I know that I've gotten away with tribulation very lightly. It scares me how spoilt I can be. But I'm constantly trying to find ways to learn from this new direction.

Anyways on a slightly more entertaining note, my latest acting project is a regular stint on an little online project called malaysiantalents.com. The writer/director/main actor Douglas Lim took his cue from The Office and Extras and created a mini mockumentary series that rides on similar dry wit with a Malaysian touch. Douglas plays a talent manager trying to kickstart his new agency, and I play one of his 'Artiste Development Program' students who eventually doubles as his PA. Although people may accuse the series of bring a complete rip-off of Rick Gervais's work, I personally think it's a fantastic effort to introduce the concept of self-deprecating comedy to the Malaysian public. All 20 episodes run for less than five minutes each, and a new one is uploaded every Tuesday and Thursday on Gua.com.my. It was done on a shoestring budget and with skeletal crew, but I personally find the script hilarious and I think for that alone, it deserves a chance to be watched even if I wasn't in it!

That's it for now, gotta get back to work now. Doesn't even feel like the Eve of Chinese New Year. I think I've forgotten what reunions are all about...

Amidst all this numbness, I do admit that it does feel good coming back to this blog.

And the reason is you

2007-09-02T14:27:00.000+08:00

My father's having an affair and he ain't coming back.

My mom's been telling the whole world about it, so I suppose there's no point in hiding it anymore.

But I guess that pretty much explains everything, eh? My sudden preference to not talk about my life anymore, my sudden disinterest in food, my sudden withdrawal from friends, my sudden urge to

Work.

Work.

Work even harder than ever.

I don't want to bitch and I don't seek sympathy, neither do I want outsiders playing judge & jury. I just won't be getting a break anytime soon, no matter how badly I need one. That's all I'd like my mates to understand.

For those who already know, thanks for the support. As for the rest who don't, be thankful about what life has given you. Because everything happens for a reason.

Everything.

No I'm not dead yet

2007-07-25T17:17:00.000+08:00

To those who have been bugging me to death to update this place, here ya go. I hope yer'all happy.

Nah really, I've been thrown around like a rag doll lately. So for the curious, here's what I've been up to in the past 3 months:

- Was part of the 2nd pair of contestants to get kicked out of 'So You Think You Can Dance' Malaysia, which that morning immediately after contracted a severe complication of a back injury, had to be carried out of the hotel and had the doctor stick a needle in my bum to kill the pain

- A few days later, got diagnosed with kidney infection, caused by a complication of a urinary tract infection I caught in the last week of SYTYCD. Was fed on antibiotics intraveously for 3 days which cost an 'affordable' RM700

- Recovered in 2 weeks and helped out with the event to commemorate Animal Welfare Day and the official launch of the Furry Friends Farm, organized by the Remember Sheena Campaign. Had the honor of meeting animal activist Jill Robinson, who flew in from Hong Kong to hold a small Doctor Dog clinic in Ikano Power Centre.

- Started to pitch myself around as a talent for commercials and voiceovers. With no news coming back and no money coming in, fell into a silly little bout of helplessness and depression for the next couple of weeks

- Gavin Yap told me there was still a chance for me to join his little anime dubbing project, which I had to initially give up for SYTYCD. Started recording immediately and continue to do so on a weekly basis

- Got called back into SYTYCD together with the rest of the eliminated contestants; reunited for one more week to perform at the Grand Finals.

- The day I checked back into the hotel for rehearsals, was informed by my sis of a severe family crisis that left me emotionally crippled throughout the reunion but made it through with the support of my SYTYCD mates.

- Finished Grand Finale on Friday with a bang, rested over the weekend, went back to work full-time the following Monday

- Then suddenly started receiving calls from talent agencies asking me to attend casting call after casting call after casting call

- Joanne Kam invited me to audition for the commercial dance company she's affiliated with, after which the main choreographer decided to put enough faith in me to train me up as part of her troupe

- Was invited by Malaysian Today to be featured in a full-page interview about my performing/writing work

- Made the cut for two TV advertisements but had to turn one down because both shoot dates were clashing

Aaaaaand... that's it I think. I just finished my advertisement shoot for Nestle Vietnam a few days ago, and my first professional dance gig is happening tomorrow night at a corporate event in town. My one and only colleague in my full-time company just resigned yesterday, leaving me to singlehandedly hold the fort for an indefinite period. My family's literally falling apart. I've just run out of deodorant. I'm absolutely pooing my pants just thinking about everything. It's quite a feat trying to juggle so many things and I've forgotten what 'me' time is... then again, you've probably heard this rant from me before.

Will come back to this space in a bit, just let me find my screws first.

The beginning is the end is the beginning

2007-04-13T14:51:00.000+08:00

I know, I know. I'm really sorry. I've just bumped into a phase that has totally sucked up all form of whatever minimal leisurely time I already had, including the time to upkeep this blog. I hated the day that this would come, but it has, and well, if you still visit here from time to time, thanks a mill. Regardless, I'll just give a quick rundown of what's been up with me over the past few months.

I went to Singapore in January for a business trip. It was amazing fun, seeing my good mate Razzaq who was incidentally down there as well. Scoping the nightlife, shopping, making the most of hotel housekeeping... It almost didn't feel like work at all. If there's anything I would still love to upload as an entry, it would be this trip. I hope to get to it eventually. Plus I've gotten some wicked videos that exemplify Retardation Nation which can't possibly go to waste.

I've filmed one of my biggest adverts since my TM Net gig in 2005. This time it's for Dynamo, where I play the owner of a daycare centre. I can dare say that it was one of the most difficult shoots I've ever done. Infants and toddlers are the most difficult actors to work with, although no fault of their own. They're just very spontaneous and hence inconsistent with what they do, so the responsibility of getting a good take falls completely in the hands of the oldest talent on set. But like all other demanding shoots, it was a great learning experience. I don't have any shots of myself, but here are a few I managed to take instead.

Director Brian and crew perking up the kids

My cue card

The set that was built in a Shah Alam indoor studio from scratch

The commercial premiered on TV just a week or two ago. I've seen it once and am pretty insulted that my voice has been dubbed over by someone who doesn't sound half as genuine as I do in my humble opinion. But at least it looks like my co-stars really like me. God bless the wonders of great editing.

A good mate of mine, Michael Chen, has always expressed an interest to work together and he finally managed to rope me in for a short film he put together for the BMW Shorties competition back in February. 'Moving On' was Michael's first attempt at writing and directing, and I personally think he did a superb job. His one-on-one preparation techniques with me before shoots were sometimes too effective, and there were times where I ended up taking my character back home with me which would mess me up for days on end. But his efforts paid off after the crew and I sat down to watch the final product. Our film didn't make it to the shortlisting, but Michael attended the winner announcement ceremony, and in a little montage of all the submissions recieved, my face apparently appeared almost every 2 seconds. Thought that was a sweet consolation. And look out for Michael, he'll be the next big to happen to Malaysian arts.

In February, The Sun newspaper got round to publishing my prize-winning article from The Cicak's 'Write It!' competition. Quite surreal to have my byline peering out from the comment page. It's every budding writer's dream, and I hope I've inspired some readers to realize that they are capable of being so much bigger than what others restrict them to be.

As of January, I've been contributing writer to The Living Arts, a Malaysian arts newsletter that The Actors Studio publishes for free on a monthly basis. So far I've been submitting commentaries about arts and the media, as well as plugging local stage productions that might need a little boost of publicity. I offered my services to get myself back into the habit of serious writing, and it's a good start to building a proper portfolio. The feedback I get about my pieces have been coming from the most unlikely of places. I made a cold phonecall for a corporate sales pitch the other day; the woman who took my call recognized my name from The Living Arts, and said she was encouraging her own daughter to be like me and get involved in a lot of things. That was so awesome. I've been uploading my articles online (do excuse the lame address, I was so out of ideas):

http://www.livinginmyart.blogspot.com

My mate Gavin Yap has been approaching me lately to try out for a few voiceover auditions that he's been holding. I've never tried out anything like that before, but I've been having loads of fun with it. I chipped in a few lines for a pilot episode for a cartoon targeted at preschoolers, as one of 3 fish that poses a riddle to the main characters before they are allowed to cross a river. Gavin has been poking fun at my lines ever since then, and I get angry only because I haven't thought of a good comeback line yet. But jokes aside, I'm really thankful that he's put a little faith in me and letting me have a go at this sort of thing. I've kinda indirectly returned the favor by giving the next production he's directing some coverage in the April issue of Living Arts. Check out 'Tell Tale Heart' at KLpac this month, I think it'll be really something.

I've tried my hand at writing a play myself. The Oral Stage is a youth theatre outfit that was looking for writers for their upcoming seasons, and I was one of several who were selected. It felt very awkward writing the short play under a deadline, but I managed to put something together at the eleventh hour, and Kelvin Wong the director found the mood of it suitable enough to kickstart the entire production of SCREWED. It's a great honor but I'm extremely nervous because I never found the opportunity to sit in during any of the rehearsals. But it would be interesting to see how Kelvin and the actors interpret what I've written. It's a 5-minute piece called 'The Color Green'. Catch it this month if you're curious, and let me know what you think.

And finally, I've been selected as one of the twenty finalists for the Malaysian edition of the talent reality show, 'So You Think You Can Dance'. I've just completed the initial stages over a span of several weeks, and now I'm getting ready to move into a hotel this coming Sunday where I will be temporarily imprisoned - no contact with the outside world, barely any rest, cameras on you 24/7. The competition goes 'live' in the beginning of May, and eliminations via sms votes go on until the finals in June. As a self-trained dancer who goes crazy in clubs in a tragic plea for attention, I had no idea I would get this far and I honestly have no idea what the judges saw in me to let me go further. I would like to at least get a hint of that reason before I get the boot. Doing this show has not been without its huge sacrifices to work and life in general, but with the support of my mates and my family, I have a feeling this may be the start of something new. You can catch the show every Thursday evening on 8TV.

Which is why, despite writing this at 4am and feeling like I've been run over by a bus, I feel I must blog one more time. I just don't know when I'll be able to do so again after this and that upsets me. Dare I say it, Retardation Nation is an extension of my life, and I love how I can use it to entertain people. I would love to come back to it once all the drama is over, but as always, it's just a matter of when. Again, I gotta say to everyone whom has ever visited my blog and continue to do so even through my dry spells, you've been so brilliant in breathing life into my online realm. Thanks for sharing the laughs, the tears, the bits of life that make you go, "Whoa. Can we do that again?"

Keep up the great vibes and see y'all from the small screen.

Davina @ Disco-very

We have lift off

2007-03-02T16:00:00.000+08:00

As you may have noticed, my more recent blog entries have been photo posts.
It's not that I have been lazy to write, it's just that they are the fastest to post while my my boss isn't looking.

A few months ago, I did an photo shoot for a cooking oil ad. The feel of the ad was meant to be clean, pure, healthy, virginal and whatever other words that are or can be associated with the colour white.

I was very happy, because I like being associated with such words.

I kept in touch with the Creative Director of the advertising agency that was responsible for the ad. One day, he dropped me an email with a couple of image attachments, telling me that I have a new set of puppies.

Puppies? Ooh, I loooooove puppies. I like cocker spaniel puppies and shi tzu puppies and dalmatian puppies and chow chow puppies and bullmastiff puppies and Australian Te-

Hey, me no see no doggie-woggies. Let's open the next attachment.

Now wait a minute, he said I have a new set of pup- ......Oh.

(For those whose observation skills are less than average, take a closer look at the limbs and, erm, torso.)

I expressed my concern to the creative director dude. Unfortunately, my body image was distorted upon the request of the client, who wanted me to have look more 'wholesome'.

Okay, there were three ways to take a bit of workload off the poor graphic designer who must have weaved miracles into this little piece of graphic tapestry:

1) Just seek a more 'wholesome'-looking talent,
2) Make me pose in a way that shows off less tricep and more so-called baby canines
3) Ask a tard if she would like to play a game with socks...

The last option of which I feel she would be more than obliging.

Doing the write thing

2007-02-06T12:14:00.000+08:00

I first came to know about Amnesty International's presence in Malaysia when I came across a booth which it had put up during Sting's concert in town in early 2005 (He's an active supporter of the NGO). Since then I had taken part in their online activism efforts, but I had only taken a slightly bigger step in December 2005 when it had organized its 24-hour Global Letter Writing Marathon, an event that encourages anyone and everyone to write letters to the big kahunas around the world who have the power to bring justice to unsettled human rights cases. I spent a few hours writing at the headquarters in Petaling Jaya, and took a few aerogrammes back home to continue. My family, whom I have had a long history of misunderstanding with, went into hysterics when they found out what I had been up to, in fear of me serving 10 to 20 for speaking my mind (which, in the history of this annual campaign, has not and most probably will never happen).

Utilising a new common sense that I had acquired in the course of 365 days, I decided to I participate in Amnesty International's 24-hour Global Letter Writing Marathon the following year and told my folks that I was out on a shopping spree instead.

Amnesty provides several worldwide human rights cases, and you cover as many concerns as you can in 24 hours, with Amnesty keeping tab of the total count every hour. For those who weren't able to take part together with the local groups around the country, they were able to keep the headquarters updated with their progress from home.

I offered to be a volunteer at the headquarters this time round, but there wasn't much to do since the people who came by to participate, particularly the seasoned Amnesty members, were pretty much making themselves at home. For the newbies, I ambushed them with the choice of Pringles or peanuts. I arrived a few hours after the official launch, and was told that I had just missed Asha Gill and Joanna Bessey, who came by to support the cause.

There were petition postcards which just required a signature - a lazy start, but a start all the same. There were also letter-writing guides which came in great handy to get me back into the groove of putting pen on paper.

Amnesty headquarters

This is Josef Roy Benedict, the Executive Director of Amnesty International, Malaysia. I also had the pleasure and honor of meeting AI Malaysia's Chairperson, Andrew Aeria. Both extremely humble, hardworking and passionate individuals.

This is Amos, one of the youngest participants who had left a deep impression on me during last year's marathon. He is 13 years old and writes faster than I can type, churning out letter after letter in front of me and my embarassingly rusty fingers. This year, he recognized me from S'kali. I thought that was rad.

Josef, Amos and I trying to outdo the previous hour's tally

When it was time for me to leave the headquarters I was still feeling a little dissatisfied with my contribution so I decided to take the risk of repeating an old mistake and brought some aerogrammes home. Thankfully, my mission went undetected, and scurried off to the neighborhood post box with hopes of something to come out of a here-goes-nothing.

AI Malaysia aimed for 2000 letters to be written during the 2006 marathon, and its expectations were topped with 511 more in the final tally. A lot of success stories have arisen from the world expressing their concerns every year through this initiative, and some multinational companies have been really sweet in actually responding through the post - I received mail from Dow Chemical and Shell in 2005, and Microsoft last year. It's nice to know that I don't need to be hosed down by water cannons to try and make an impact.

For information on how to get involved with Amnesty International Malaysia, visit their website.

Double shot

2007-01-18T13:33:00.000+08:00

Wow.

Dudes, this is unreal.

I honestly wasn't expecting either prize, and was instead preparing to thank all my friends for believing in me in the face of obvious defeat.

So to bag not only the People's Choice but also the Grand Prize is unbelievably hard to register. You may check the YouTube files on the above link to witness a real-time demonstration. (They left out the second half of my pseudo-acceptance speech, where I didn't sound as disjointed.)

I almost didn't go for this particular Cicak gathering. Running on three hours' worth of sleep, I literally grabbed the first set of clothes I saw on my bed and rushed out of the house that morning to run some errands, and my day didn't start off very well either. Frumpy and grumpy is not a recommended combination for first impressions. But I made it - ironically I was the only shortlisted writer who could - and was handsomely rewarded for my efforts. I honestly feel quite guilty for sweeping the awards, as the other shortlisted articles deserve just as much if not more recognition. Like I've said before, I have no idea what the judges would have seen in my article, but whatever it is, it slipped past my radar. I suppose all I can do is just be thankful. Hope I don't miss it when it gets published in The Sun.

Still disliking how 'blah' I looked at the announcement ceremony, though. Amazing to note how much fatigue can sever the direct relation between emotions and facial mobility.

Thank you so much, everyone. You've been awesome.

Gorgeous Night Out

2007-01-02T14:39:00.000+08:00

I wasn't planning to blog about this - which would explain the monotonous smiling - but I've been asked by many about how it went and if I won. To answer the second question, no. But I'm glad I didn't as I wouldn't have had as much fun if I did. Which leads me to answer the first question. Female Magazine's 50 Gorgeous People Party was kickin'. And what better way to start off the new year than with Retardation Nation's first-ever camwhore post.

The publicity event held three weeks before at One Utama was a far cry of a hint of what was in store. Only half of the fifty were called to parade ourselves in the flesh. We played the mandatory time-for-some-wholesome-shopping-mall-entertainment game, together with reluctant participants that were pried away from the crowd with due credit given to the hardworking emcee. It involved blowing balloons until they popped. Never before have I had my palms excrete their own sweat so efficiently. At least I can safely brag that I was one of very few girls who popped her balloon without the secret aid of fingernails.

The day of the Finals party at Zouk was a long one. Since makeup and hair could only be done at a handful of people at a time, some of the fifty were called in to the venue as early as 2pm (the show was slated to start at 8pm). My calltime was 4pm. With a mini pre-birthday celebration the night before gone a little awry, I rolled out of bed looking a little scruffier and moodier than usual. I tossed on my usual random tee & jeans get-up and dragged my feet to the venue from the Dang Wangi train stop, my arrival at Zouk prompting 'And you are here for...?' glances from everyone I passed. So to say that the makeover crew did a sensational job in making me look a little more decent for the occasion would still be considered a perverted understatement.

The 49 other people in the list looked attractive in the magazine. Many looked even better in person.

Ringo and Mabel testify.

According to the random order in the magazine, Samantha Hepburn is Gorgeous Person #1. In my personal ranking, she doesn't budge much from that position. She's one of the most genuine people I had the honor of befriending from the event. She's everything I'm not: young, smart and breathtaking by default. Bless her.

Coery was one of two good friends who were part of the list. Coery's a party queen. She also happens to be very tall. Men with fragile egos need not apply.

Razif is the second friend. He came to the club with a busted shoulder from a cartwheel gone wrong during a musical performance examination the day before. I'm glad he pulled through the entire evening. That boy works too hard for his own good. He has my heart all the same.

A few of my best mates came to offer their moral support: Razzaq, Kenny...

...and the inspiration behind the title of this blog, Stephanie Sharon.

Channel [V] presenters Sarah and Dom hosted the party. It started out with a couple of speeches, and a video presentation that showed the selection process of the ten semi-finalists. With noone even knowing that there was going to be a showdown of any sort, all fifty were ushered on stage, the top ten were announced, and the loser forty were ushered back down. But with a free flow of alcohol and finger food awaiting us at the VIP area, who had the right to kick up a fuss?

The entertainment factor that night was also kept us pretty... stimulated.

Ringo introduced me to her friend, Kenny. I gave him a casual handshake and gasped.

"Kenny... Kenny SIA?!"

"Er, yeah!"

I went bonkers. He laughed and said he was recognized whilst waiting around at the entrance of the club, but that nothing would have prepared him for something remotely close to a girl dropping to her knees to worship him, which I had just done without thinking twice.

The bloggers three

Ringo and I hanging out with Justin Chan, who won the title of Most Gorgeous Male...

Justin: Hey girls, what do you think of my air piano? *Does vocal rendition of Chopin*
Ringo: Wow, that's like, totally rad!
'Tard: Man, I shouldn't have eaten so much beans for lunch...

'Tard: Hey guys, we are so, erm... happening! YEAH! WHOO! High five my homies!
Ringo: ...And here's my little poochie! I call her Puffy. By the way, did you hear someone say something, Justin?
Justin: Hmm? Oh, don't think so. Cool dog.

Joey G interviewed me for Channel [V] and asked me to make a music video request and dedication. I asked for Jamiroquai's 'Runaway' - I have shamed the fan community for not seeing it properly on TV yet. I caught the show, but missed my part and for the umpteenth time, the damn video.

I bumped into Alvin at the bar while I was catching up a little with my old college mate Steph; turns out they're good chums. Despite embarrassing me on TV, he is a sweet guy. And he's got his grooves down too.

It was a night of meeting great people, loving my old friends and dancing to good ol' RnB. Not to mention trying my best to look gorgeous, but never being able to get it down quite right.

Congrats to Justin Chan and Jasvinder Gill for bagging the Most Gorgeous titles. Thanks to Kelvin Tan for and Kenny Sia for some of the pix.

Let's Go Retro - 2006

2006-12-29T10:13:00.000+08:00

Out & about
Went deeper underground
Rediscovered Malacca
Took a pretty big dip

Matters of the heart
Lost a good friend of 14 years
Fell in love, lost him, still one of the greatest men in my life
Father gave me his blessings

Because it's our responsibility
Got a little wild
Went out looking for justice and got something back
Found paradise

Stepping stones
Shot a movie, attended the premiere
Painfully watched my attempt at arthouse
Broke a bridge, twice
Did a corporate video
Looked a little presentable
Contributed my two cents

Now that was quite random
I SWEAR it was
Excuse me?
Hot & sweaty

Man, I'm pooped.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Broken Bridges The Musical - Ipoh

2006-12-28T09:58:00.000+08:00

After the last show at KLPac, our goodbyes were not too dramatic as we knew that most of us would see each other again in two months. The Ipoh leg was a 'labor of love' in Joe's words, to honor the place that gave birth to the musical. Almost everyone was able to commit to the second round, and we had refreshment rehearsals that began less than two weeks before showtime.

The cast and ensemble met up at KLPac on a Thursday morning, and we shot off in several cars.

Ipoh, gloomy weather notwithstanding, was beaming with small-town hospitality. In its quieter moments it seemed to possess an impenetrable calm.

We had performances due from Friday til Sunday, so the whole of Thursday was devoted to getting acquainted to the new set-up at Taman Budaya. Many of us switched to adrenaline reserves as the day wore on, and it was tough to hide the fatigue during rehearsals. But we knew that once we were over the hill, there was time to enjoy what Ipoh town had to offer over the weekend.

Main entrance to Taman Budaya

Our rather early calltimes left some opportunity for us to get schmoozy before physical warm-ups, makeup and wardrobe.

It also allowed Douglas and Soon Yoon to rekindle their onstage chemistry. The rest of us sat and watched with tears of bliss.

This happened when Saasani and I were taking a picture of each other at the same time. Her flash went off while Tony E attempted to hamper her trigger-happiness. The result: Tony tasting the white-hot ectoplasmic representation of his mojo.

With Joanne K, Joanne P and new recruit Rebecca in the female dressing room...

... which by nightfall, turned into a sweltering glamour station.

The cast party was a blast. It was held at Indulgence, a swanky little spot located on the opposite side of the road from Taman Budaya. We probably broke the record for highest decibel level ever reached at the restaurant, and within a 5-mile radius for that matter. It didn't help that Douglas's personal cheerleaders from KL came by to crash the party. At least they were nice enough to watch our show twice while we were there, and squealed for their superstar from the otherwise wasted sovereign balcony seating.

With Rachel, Ky-Gan, Colin, Soon Yoon, Ben, Carol & Yen Lin

When the stress of breaking bridges is... broken. (Visit Wen Li's blog for the video clip)

The next day, Ky-Gan took some of us to Nam Heong, the coffee shop that inspired him to create the one owned by Uncle Wong in the musical.

Nicole, who has a bun in her own oven, sampling Ipoh's famed cuisine

Ky-Gan & Emily

On one of the leisurely afternoons, Colin, Ky-Gan, Nicole and I also embarked on a little field trip to Iskandar Polo Club.

Colin was chaffeur of the day. He's an amazingly well-read person, the enviable sort who knows at least something about everything. His worldliness distracted our minds from the midday Ipoh heat.

If you stood like this for hundreds of years, you'd get varicose veins too.

"The water here's crystal clear, that's why no pimples can you find on my face!" *cue impish giggle*

The Tard's elegant display of interpretive dance in a polo field

We found some horses grazing in a nearby enclosure. One of them frequently nuzzled Nicole's belly, as though he was extending his best wishes to both the expectant and expected.

Stallion legs are sexy, no?

The Heritage Hotel was a nice place to be put up in. It was just a few minutes' drive from the show venue, the room (which I shared with Nicole) had a wondrous view, and the breakfast spreads were nice 'n' wholesome if one woke up early enough to enjoy it in its entirety.

Everyone found their own ways of spending the nights in, including

Playstation and DVD madness in Nick and Tony L's room,

Board game strategy in Johann & Maybel's room,

And free stand-up comedy shows in Douglas's junior suite.

After the final show, most of us at a farewell meal at FMS, a humble but well-known steakhouse in town which, if it's not one of the oldest food joints in the country, could aesthetically pass off as it anyway. Few of the elderly staff have been working there since their younger days! The food is fantastic and affordable, and is a mandatory stop for anyone coming to Ipoh town.

We don't know if we'll ever get the chance to stage Broken Bridges again, but we know for sure that we've all taken something back for safekeeping in our hearts... whether it be friendships, learning experiences, or a good tight slap from a vicious pack of Cheong Soh wannabes.

For a more detailed account of the Ipoh staging, you can check it out in the upcoming January issue of the Living Arts newsletter, for which I will be a regular contributor from next year onwards.

Thanks to Saasani for the street pic of Ipoh.

Are you with us?

2006-12-22T16:17:00.000+08:00

I've just been shortlisted for a Malaysian opinion writing competition.

I will never know the why, but I can bear enough responsibility to explain the how.

When I first came to know about the competition, I decided to give it a miss as I didn't think I had anything important to say. A few days before the deadline, the site ambled its way into my lunchtime browsing regime. At this time, the inspiration that was plucked from my trip to the Furry Friends Farm trip was still citrus fresh, and I figured I could try squeezing some juice out of that somehow. However, I was due to leave town the very next morning for the Ipoh leg of Broken Bridges. A raw idea, 10 hours... If I didn't act on it, I knew the lost chance would haunt me. So I went at it. I didn't have time to plan out a general sense of direction, so I wrote out my thoughts in random paragraphs and pieced it together in the most cohesive way possible, and emailed my submission by evening.

Three weeks later, I the following email.

"First of all, congratulations! Our editorial team here at theCICAK has selected your article as one of the top five pieces that we have received, so good work, and thumbs up! ...

Top F-... I beg your friggin' pardon?

... Our judging panel is currently in the process of looking at the top five entries to determine our grand prize winner, who will be announced on 12 Jan 2007.

As well, we're going to be collecting e-mail votes for each of our top five to determine our People's Choice Award, so be sure to tell your friends that you've been nominated. More details here:

http://www.thecicak.com/?page_id=166

Just to remind you that you're in the running for both the grand prize of RM500 in cash + a RM300 Borders electronic gift card, as well as for the People's Choice Award of RM300 in cash + a RM150 Borders electronic gift card. If you win either or both prizes, you'll also have your winning article published in theSun. Keep looking out for the results in early January!"

Enough information to induce a 15-minute round of uninterrupted blinking.

I honestly wasn't expecting anything out of this apart from the triumph of trying. I have no idea what theCICAK's editorial team saw in a neo-hippie rant, neither do I know if they are aware of how much it sticks out like a sore thumb amongst four other samples of how the brain of a Mensa member probably works. But it's a great honor and I'm chuffed all the same. It's also great to know that some people out there have something to say, and it still makes sense.

It's the first time my writing has ever been officially recognized for anything, but it's a feeling I might be able to get used to, and I'm gonna ride this wave as far as it takes me.

May the best article win, and Merry Christmas to all.

To read the shortlisted pieces and cast your votes, visit theCICAK's website.

Broken Bridges The Musical - KLPac

2006-12-19T11:01:00.000+08:00

I've finally gotten down to this entry. One cannot imagine the enormous sense of well being that I am experiencing.

I won't testify that a four-month journey can be expressed in 34 photos, but my eyes are tired after sifting through the hundreds of images that I took for this album, and I can only hope that my audience is one that is easy to please.

Through my lens, this is Broken Bridges The Musical.

The Kuala Lumpur Performing Arts Centre is situated in Sentul Park, a place that is a world of its own. Many areas are still unchartered by those who even work at KLPac.

This is Genevieve, our first point of contact into the musical. Teaching brand new songs to a bunch of musically untrained hooligans required a lot of patience, which to our delightful discovery was Gen's gift from the heavens. Seated next to her here is Chuang Yik, who composed the songs, and Faridah Merican, a person who Joan Osborne should be introduced to.

Gen's daycare centre had some part-time helpers, like Joanne P and Yen Lin.

Tra la la

The poster shoot was done at this early stage. Never in my life had I worn both heels and hemlines so high. The outifts were rented, and my dress was later worn by Janice for the actual staging. Carol and I played miscellaneous chicks who were wooed by Tony E's character Ringo (he was shot separately).

The first two months consisted of learning the songs with Gen and whipping our bodies up to performance par with our choreographer, Pat. When we moved up to the larger room for the actual rehearsals, Douglas started off the snack table, and everyone else continued to chip in.

Until this dude stepped in and rendered half of our minibar untouchable.

That's Mervyn, our voice coach. Wit sharp enough to carve into bone. He stressed on how we should avoid anything that would coat the throat and affect our singing. Under his training, our overall sound was nothing short of miraculous.

He helped Janice find a voice she's never used before.

Our director, the formidable Joe Hasham. The eye of the hurricane.

I always loved the way Faridah rested her cheeks on her knuckles; someone so venerable appearing so childlike intruiged me to no end. Next to her here is Lina, Assistant Stage Manager (school equivalent of class monitor).

Faridah's dog, Sherbert Gravel. She was kept in Faridah's office most of the time. I wondered why something so pitiful-looking was always alone whenever I passed by. I found out one day after I tried entering her domain and came out with a tear in my corduroy pants. A darling nevertheless.

Pat, petite dynamo of a woman. Her fitness routines were gruelling, but she always made it fun. Tried to, at least.

Carliff giving Callista a little dip for 'Drink, Drink'

Janice played Mei Ling, Ming's love interest. A true beauty, inside and out.

The confrontation scene in 'No More'...

...and the corresponding page in the script which leads to Colin's heartwrenching parting song.

Joe overlooking the Epilogue scene. The accent of my character morphed as much as her personality. From Ah Lian to natural 'international school'/Douglas-says-it's-Aussie accent, to an attempt at mild chinese. My steadfast western pronounciation of the word 'local' always gave me away.

Costume designer Yeow in discussion with writer Ky-Gan

A few weeks before the staging, we managed to devote a weekend to recording the musical's soundtrack in Pentas 2, the smaller of 2 stages at KLPac. It was a long and arduous process, but we were too stubborn to let the opportunity go.

Coming face to face with the stage for the first time had its own obligatory share of oohs and aahs.

'Ye Lai Xiang' sequence

Leroy is a macho, macho man. Nick and Johann stand back in awe.

Like father, like son? Hint: squinting helps.

Three dressing rooms were respectively accorded to the main cast, female and male ensemble, but the props and quick-change room was bound to have the most buzz on every night of the show.

Nicole fixing her curls

Monti & Tony E.

Joanne Kam getting ready in the main cast room

Soon Yoon and Douglas leading the vocal warm-ups before showtime

Camera whores: there's a few in every production.

Monti and Colin playing Uncle Chan and Uncle Wong respectively, chilling out on set and in costume.

Rachel the nightingale, portaying Siew Yee in 'Ming Ko Ko'

Sorry to end this so abruptly, I've just realized I don't have a group picture of everyone involved in the production. Oh well, at least there's still the roadtrip to Ipoh to cover.

Thanks to Fang for contributing to the pictures. To the others whom I am sure I have forgotten about, do spank me when the chance arises.

Green grass of home

2006-12-11T11:58:00.000+08:00

Sometime last month, I was having a casual text conversation with Shoba from the Remember Sheena Campaign, when she mentioned a trip she was planning to a farm cum sanctuary for abandoned pets and stray animals. I thought it would make an interesting visit, although the Saturday she had been eyeing would have been a tight one for me, with a birthday party the night before and musical rehearsals that very afternoon. Shoba, bless her cotton socks, arranged the outing with my schedule in mind and together with other RSC supporters, we all hopped into our cars and set off to Kundang that bright weekend morning.

It took us a while to get there due to the jam in Sungei Buloh and the plethora of potholes decorating the roads along the way. Some spots reminded me of my father's hometown, and I was unaware of such village serenity existing so close to home.

The place is called the Furry Friends Farm, run by an elderly couple with the help of Sabrina Yeap, a woman whom I could possibly deem one the revolutionaries of animal welfare in Malaysia.

This place literally goes to to dogs.

This girl welcomed us at the gate, although from a distance. When I got nearer to her she started to cower. She's probably had a lot of bad experiences with humans before.

The place is still very new so were are only a handful of dogs around. Sabrina explained that she's also going to establish a cattery at the farm very soon.

She's also aiming for the farm to be self-sustainable. Three other men help out on the farm; one of their jobs includes tending to the garden patches, like chilies or as seen here, a plant (sorry forgot the name) that is traditionally though not often used to alleviate cancer. The farm also retails its own range of pet care products.

Yes, city folk do get quite captivated with the sight of a durian growing straight from the tree.

This pooch reminds me of Crystal.

If I was an animal, I would so love to retire here.

Me and Nick, an RSC supporter and amazing human being as I will elaborate on in a little while.

The makeshift family emerging from the makeshift kitchen...

...which isn't much, but something all the same.

This is Goldie. She digs my Konica Minolta. Remind you of any particular fad of distorted canine faces?

After this outing, Sabrina took these two pups to a pet adoption spot in Sri Hartamas. I do hope they've found a good home.

We shifted over to another part of the farm for lunch, where the mosquitoes were a bit more forgiving.

Shoba made some heavenly vegetarian burgers, Cynthia brought some tuna sandwiches, Uma presented a tub of veggie samosas and Nick prepared some vegeterian prawns and cocktail sausages. I was supposed to bring a pandan chiffon cake, but left it on my front porch at home.

We got to know a bit more about each other over some munching and a discussion quickly ensued about RSC's current and future efforts. Nick announced his plans to introduce a new concept to the local food industry: that all places where meat, dairy, egg or poultry products come from would operate with animal welfare being a top priority. I've always been partial to the idea, and I'm elated to find out about someone with the courage to get up and do something about it. Such a concept may sound out of this world for the average Malaysian, but we all have the belief that it just might work if we put our heads to it.

Nick and Shoba leaving some extra food in the kitchen for the workers, and for the doggies too if they were nice.

It would have been nice to stay on and enjoy the country air, but my director has never held high regards for Malaysian time.

Whenever I speak my mind about animal welfare, it's usually a plain explanation to those who wish to know what really gets on my t*ts. With these guys, it was a splurge in the vernacular. And which better place to indulge than at a God-sent haven for our furry mates. I think I've found a new comfort zone.

Thanks to Shoba for some of the pix!

You can check out more of the outing at the Remember Sheena blog. You can also share your views on Nick's Humane Society project at this forum. The Furry Friends Farm is located at:
Lot 6171, Kampung Baru Kundang, 40850 Kundang, Selangor Darul Ehsan.

'Tis the season to be Gee Golly

2006-12-01T15:31:00.000+08:00

The thing about being a December kid is that you get so used to saying: "I'm (insert technical age + 1) this year", that the eleven-month conditioning progress prior to the day grants you the license to not give a hoot by the time it eventually raps on your front door.

So yes, I do have an excuse for always feeling older than I factually am.

The confession I made this time last year has really helped in getting the disorder out of my system. As I was preparing for my role in S'kali, contact with my face was kept minimal and from then on, I just upkept it. I still get attacks once in a while, but they're a lot more controlled and my awareness of falling into them has increased. And in between, I've managed to check out what my face can really look and feel like without the scabs. It feels phenomenal.

So now, moving on to 24:

It's been a while since I've seen my father as he's been working in Sabah. He came back recently for a few days, and since I was rehearsing my musical I didn't get a chance to spend as much time with him as much as I would have wanted to. But he did get to squeeze in a long talk with me about where I'm going with my career. He told me if I were to ever to take my acting seriously, then I should start now. He suggested that I approach Mediacorp in Singapore, a company that employs their actors on a full-time basis. He doesn't want me to struggle in Malaysia, where the range of opportunities as a Chinese talent isn't as broad as compared to across the causeway. The next day I acted on it, and managed to get in touch with an agent from Mediacorp, who would have very much liked to have presented my profile to his management... had I only been fluent in Mandarin. I've spoken to some more experienced peers about it and they've chipped in their two cents' worth about the local industry and how different it is abroad. In their general opinion, there's no such thing as a greener side, just a matter of preferences in career direction.

Just a month ago, I was passively mapping out what I wanted to do in the near future. As in, carry on with my fulltime job, perhaps save enough to move out and get a place of my own, at the same time engage in more performing arts in my spare time. Now I've been thrown completely off my guard because THE other option has suddenly surfaced, the one which I had never in my wildest dreams would have been able to take seriously for fear of family disapproval. For my father to finally give the thumbs up is very unreal, but I suspect it has come about from watching my work and realizing that a 10-year pursuit can no longer be considered "just a phase she'll grow out of".

My marketability is going to drop once I hit my quarter-life mark - physical maturity directly affects the scope of roles that an actor is able to pull off convincingly and therefore be offered - and it didn't occur to me how close I was to it until my father drove the point in.

It's a huge leap to take: after all, being established is one thing, and being in demand is another. But I can't afford to "wait for a good time" anymore. Tony was right: there's no such thing. For the first time in my life, I feel the need to set goals for myself - where to go, who to approach, how much to save, what skills to pick up. There's a lot of restructuring that needs to be done, and I'm still a little befuddled as to where to start...

I've received a mindblowing birthday present in the form of a green light, and I've got 364 days left to get my crap together.

Time to get the ball rollin'.

In a nutshell

2006-11-29T15:50:00.000+08:00

Sorry for the lack of updates...

Been up and about lately. Just came back from a 4-day trip in Ipoh for the second and probably last run of Broken Bridges. The town, where the musical is based in, is small, sleepy and easy to warm up to. The performances went smoothly enough and we played to appreciative audiences. Performing at Taman Budaya was tiring for many reasons, but I learned a lot from it and there was oodles of fun to be had in between. The last show was an emotional one; such is the cycle of theatre work. I'd blog about this, but I haven't even gotten down to blogging about the first run. Eventually, eventually.

In terms of my gastric problems, the results of my urea breath test came back negative. Which is good, because that means I don't have a bacterial infection. Which is bad, because now I still have no idea what's going on. My GP has recommended me to a specialist for an endoscopy, which I have been told isn't exactly da bomb, except in terms of expenses. Doesn't look like I'm gonna be covered by insurance either. As much as I want to evade the situation, all I'm left to do is see how long I can kid myself that it's all just a case of too much Ipoh white coffee.

I've lately become more and more involved with the Remember Sheena Campaign. There was a meeting that was held at a recently-opened pet sanctuary called the Furry Friends Farm in Kluang, where many ideas were shared and it sounds like things are getting off to a refreshing start. There's tons of work to be done however, and I'm terrified of not being able to put in as much work as I would want to because of other commitments. But I'll try my bestest.

I attended Female Magazine's 50 Gorgeous People publicity gig at the magazine's bumper roadshow a few weekends ago at One Utama. (Thanks for popping by, Kelvin.) My impromptu interview there with Channel [V] made it on television a few days ago, and my little sister managed to record it. Watching the playback reveals how shamelessly flirtatious VJ Alvin was with my girly-girl persona. The 50 Gorgeous People party at Zouk is happening this coming Saturday, where the results for Most Gorgeous Man & Woman will be announced. I'm not keeping any high hopes on clinching the title, but a huge thanks goes out to all who voted and for their love and support. (The event also happens to fall on my birthday. It's nice to have a gig already organized for me, although I'm only true friends with two out of the 49. I'd like to see if I can organize a small get-together the evening before, but I've been so busy feeling old to be bothered about getting old, so it's a play-by-ear as usual.) Mix FM is organizing a contest where their listeners can win a blind date next Wednesday with 5 guys and 5 girls from the list. I'm not sure how I ended up getting selected for that, and I've never gone on a blind date before. Heck, I don't even know how to date altogether. As you can see, it's gonna be a surefire hoot.

Here's another little treat for those who missed out on the TM Net commercial I did last year. Nicholas found it whilst browsing around on YouTube! A shame it's in low resolution here as the expressions are priceless. The subtitles are in Malay, so drop me a line if you need translation.

That's it for now. Back to the usual blogging soon.

Second round

2006-11-15T11:12:00.000+08:00

Work has gotten into a bit of a crisis that requires civilised talk between lawyers, rehearsals for the Broken Bridges run in Ipoh has kicked off to an ebullient start this week, and I've just gone for a medical test that may confirm a gastric bacterial infection if, left untreated, could lead to cancer.

As you can see, my internal 24-hour hotline for drama is once again off the hook.

But it doesn't feel as bad as it sounds for now. In fact, as pathetic as this sounds, at the end of the day my biggest concern is how much time I have left to blog these days, and what about.

Many friends have been telling me about a promo ad on TV about S'kali being featured in the Astro Box Office Movies selection for November 2006. I haven't seen it myself, and probably never will at the rate my contact hours with the television is diminishing. But while it's still a discussable topic, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to post up a couple of related articles to keep you guys distracted while I get my act together. My apologies for the text being relatively small for reading comfort.

Here is the interview with the full cast - one of very few - that that appeared in CinemaOnline, July 2006 issue. I feel this the best group interview we had - well written with little misinterpretation. Although there was a little mix-up at one point between a cameo I made on Pond's 'Table For Two' and the 8TV Quickie Dramedy.

This article is taken from Vida! magazine, also taken from their July 2006 issue. This one is my baby for biased reasons: I contacted the Managing Editor with a humble proposal for coverage, and she unexpectedly gave us a ten-page feature. All the pictures used here (except the one with me in it) were taken from my first personal photography assignment using my then-brand-new Konica Minolta Z20. (The photo credit includes my castmate Zimy Rozan, but his pictures unfortunately didn't make the cut.)

If you subscribe to Astro's Box Office Movies (Channel 21) this month, you can catch S'kali at the following times:

Tuesday 14th November, 11am
Wednesday 15th November, 6am & 10pm
Thursday 16th November, 5pm
Friday 17th November, 9am
Saturday 18th November, 4am & 8pm
Sunday 19th November, 3pm

Thank you once again for supporting Malaysian cinema.

We be Chiling

2006-11-10T19:58:00.000+08:00

During my stay at Vig's place during the Deepa-Raya holidays, he told me that he and his mates were scheming to make a day trip to Kuala Kubu Baru, the usual site for Raleigh International's Introductory Weekends. When I took part in the event late 2004, I underwent the usual bootcamp routine that Raleigh plans out for their potential recruits. The only thing familiar this time round was the parking area, and that the obstacle course path would barely form half of the warm-up of a long hardcore trek to our true coveted destination, Chiling Waterfalls.

Vig's right-hand man Alan graciously took on the role of chaffeur. Together with Chun Ming and Pearly, the five of us headed out to fuel our bodies up first, and chose a hawker place that sounded veritably dubious.

The ride to Kuala Kubu Baru was not too short, neither was it long enough to stretch over into my fidget zone. Chun Ming kept the car buzzing momentarily with a sudden outburst of paparazzi panache.

Once we got to the parking area, we immediately got going with Alan leading the way. I decided to strip down to my swimsuit, since I only had one set of dry clothes to last me the whole day. Had trekking been on the agenda before I packed for Vig's place, I would have also included a pair of hardy sandals in my rucksack. Alas, the only available replacement for my delicate white trainers was Vig's flip-flops, 2 sizes too big. After several minutes of trudging through puddles and uneven terrain, the slippers proved to be more of a shortcoming than an advantage. "You know, I'd personally go without the slippers," Vig nudged me. I gave in to the logic behind that option, and off my feet they went.

The next hour and a half was an upsetting ordeal for my tender virgin soles. Slipping on rocks, tripping over roots, stepping on the unsuspecting thorn, not to mention having my heels chased by ants the size of my thumb. But it was riveting to feel the earth under my feet and soon enough, I was lapping up every step onto damp humus, fuzzy moss and the notoriously guilty pleasure of toes sinking into mud.

There were a few rivers to cross along the way, and treading chest-deep into an overwhelmingly strong current of chilly spring water on a rocky bed whilst attempting to keep your bag dry is a feat that only looks easy when acheived by either iron men or Raleigh members, both groups sometimes overlapping. I tried swimming at one point, thinking that it was easier, but got hurled downstream before finding a large stone to cling on to until the others waded over to lend me a hand. "You're such a rookie!" Vig teasingly said as he grabbed me by the forearm. Easy for a Raleigh-an to joke about it. Had I not shared the same physical density as cork, I'm sure river-crossing would have come to me more naturally.

We eventually heard an unmistakeable roar, and we stepped up on our pace. Alan ran out of my sight and I heard him holler with awe. We joined him in the open space, felt the wind and mist on our faces, and started screaming too.

It was amazing.

There was a massive stone facing the waterfall for us to chill and indulge in some photography.

I in the meantime inspected my feet after the long, exaggerated reflexology session.

There was a low ledge to the left of the waterfall which Alan had already begun to exploit. Vig set his camera to progressive-shot mode, and each of us took turns in capturing our creative take-offs.

I call this one 'The Lemming'.

How's the water? I'm sure you can tell.

While we were there, we also surprised Alan with a birthday present: a limited edition Ultraman figurine. He was very happy.

You Tarzan, me Lame

Our lack of heed to the greying clouds overhead got the better of us when we got hit with a sudden heavy downpour. We packed up hurriedly and Pearly started to run. "Why are you running? No point!" Chun Ming laughed. The 'Tard didn't understand why, and then remembered how far we were from the nearest roof. The rain died down halfway through our journey back to the car.

The jungle is full of strange and terrifying creatures.

Not your average afternoon stroll

After Chiling waterfalls, we drove further down the road to check out the natural hot springs, where some of the village folk were already utilising as their sunset hangout. The water was seething, and our skin flushed. Amidst the rustic sound of toads croaking and fragments of feathery blue algae floating around our shoulders, it was a dreamy end to the day.

I loved the company I had that day. It was the most impromptu getaway I've ever had, and the one didn't know I needed the most. I'm glad that they were to blame.

Most of the images here were taken by Vig. For more pictures of crazy dives, the Ultraman 'sexcapades' and other wierd things these people got up to that day, log on to Multiply and check out the album at Vig's account.

Special message from Mr. Koh

2006-11-03T11:11:00.000+08:00

This is an exclusive combined response to the comments made by Pugly and Commonjack in the previous post.

Hello. My is Knee Kah. But you can call me Mr. Koh.

I want you to vote Davina because she is gorgeous lady and I like her very long.

If you vote you can also be top 120 readers to get 2 passes to 50 Gorgeous People party at Zouk club in December and you can party with Davina the gorgeous lady.

If Davina win Favourite Gorgeous Woman (based on the most number of many votes and most creative entries), you can win Samsung Ultra Edition 6.9 (SGH-X820) worth RM1,099. They will tell the names of the winners at the Zouk happening party where Davina the gorgeous woman will be there.

How To Vote for the very Gorgeous Davina the sexy lady

1. Type VOTE DAVINA and send to 36677

2. After this you will get SMS back and it will asking you to say why Davina is the most gorgeous person (maximum 150 characters). So you type 'ANS' and then leave space and then say your answer and then send to 36677.

Example: Type ANS I WANT HER NASI LEMAK and send to 36677

The winners to the party will know when the Female people will send SMS and phonecall.

You can check if Davina is in the Top 3 Gorgeous Woman, so you type RANK and send to 36677.

It cost 50 sen per SMS on top of normal charges so is very cheap to make sure Davina is winner. Vote deadline is 27th November 2006.

For more term and condition you can check the Female magazine that is November and is very big and has funny upside down cover.

I will now say my poem I write for Davina. I call it Davina Is Very Gorgeous Lady.

Davina is very gorgeous lady

I will do stupid thing on motorbike for her

And I will be spaceman for her

And I will become sexy kangaroo for her

And I will be very strong for her

And I will do sexy dance for her

Because she is my Davina and she give me special feeling in my trouser.

Okay I finish thank you.

Serendipity

2006-10-30T13:50:00.000+08:00

Nine Ringgit? Man, they don't come cheap these days, I thought to myself as I reluctantly parted with my RM10 note at the cashier counter. I lost the patronage to all women's magazines since resigning from the industry two years ago, but I was curious this time to check something out.

The November issue of Female was the thickest mag I had ever come across: as thick as a telephone directory and dense enough to ensure success in a physical act of self defense. With the pages seemingly spilling forth, I thumbed around to the 50 Gorgeous People 2006 spread, gasped, giggled, and hurried back to my office.

That same evening I was scheduled for a long-overdue appointment with my sweetheart of a friend, Razif. Catching up on life with him has never been a dull affair, although his depth of both rational and emotional intelligence occasionally makes my own aptitude quiver like cold tofu.

We engaged in laughs and conversation over a cheap but hearty dinner, and I caught hold of a comfortable silence to toss him a coquettish flutter of the eyelids.

"Raaaaz?"

"Yeeees?"

I pulled out the magazine from my knapsack, split it open in the middle, and slid it across the table.

His eyes popped at the left page,

While mine had already popped at the right.

All we could do for the five minutes thereafter was laugh, laugh, and laugh a bit more.

"You didn't tell me you did this!"

"YOU didn't tell ME you did this either!"

We gawked at our pictures placed side by side.

"This is PURE FATE, man!"

When I was shortlisted to be part of the shoot back in July, I hadn't thought anything else of it until I received an email from the magazine last week informing me that I made it to the final fify. I was dreading to attend the publicity events on my own, a black sheep amongst forty-nine outwardly hot human beings.

And to find out that I know one of them, it's now going to be one heckuva party.

Female's 50 Gorgeous People will be making an appearance at the magazine's Bumper Roadshow at 1 Utama (Highstreet), 12th November, 3pm - 3.30pm. The Finals will take place at Zouk KL, 2nd December, 7pm - 10.30pm. Votes for the Most Gorgeous Male & Female can be made via SMS. Details in Female's November 2006 issue, and also in the follow-up blog entry.

Digestion, Absorption, Assimilation

2006-10-21T22:14:00.000+08:00

I blinked at the contents of the clear glass bowl, that in my limited field of perspective could have equally passed off as either a large brown lump of overly soggy rice, or a large brown lump of dehydrated congee.

"It's rice mixed with some coconut, brown sugar, raisins, a bit of milk... it usually has cashews but I didn't have any on me today. They often make these in the temples too. You can try it and see if you like it." She spoke with that unmistakable ring of trustworthiness that goes hand in hand with motherly status.

"Cool... What do you call it?"

"In Tamil, we call it P__k__."

"Pucca?"

"P__k__."

"Puh-, poo-k-... How do you spell it?"

"I don't think it's one of those things that is ever meant to be spelt out," Vig remarked endearingly.

Vig's mother had prepared a humble feast for Deepavali for a table of four this afternoon. Admittedly, it was one of the pulling factors behind my consent when Vig offered me his place for the weekend, for me to get some solitude he knew I desperately needed. Waking up to the smell of Indian spices was also an unforseen bonus.

"So, would you like to start with white rice first, or the sweet brown rice?" Vig's mother asked. Despite my overwhelming curiosity, I picked up the ladle for white rice and dug out my usual ration. Vig's girlfriend did the same, and proceeded with helping herself to the dhall curry.

On the other side of the table, I saw Vig's place... similar ratios of sweet brown rice, dhall curry and coconut chutney, all of which he had already begun to mush together with his eating hand.

Unwilling to allow myself to stay dumbfounded, I asked for Vig's girlfriend to pass me the brown rice. I scooped out two spoonfuls onto the side of my plate. I carved out a small chunk out of it and took a slow, deliberate nibble. The natural sweetness of rice slowly oozed out to blend with the brassiness of brown sugar. The rough caress of dessicated coconut against my gums, my incisors splitting the weakened skin of a raisin. I gave a nod of intrigue at Vig's mother, who was observing my first taste of the festive dish.

I was more gallant with my second bite, soon and easily forgetting that I should start a proper meal with my white rice.

Vig's mother exitedly handed to me the bowl of chutney.

"Now try it with this!"

My appreciation for the brilliant orange goop has never gone beyond it being consumed with thosai. My gastronomic courage promptly dissipated, exemplified with a slight drop of the jaw. Vig's eyes scintillated with encouragement.

I nervously took a teaspoon of chutney and spread it thinly over the brown rice, before bringing the new combined source of intimidation to my quivering lips.

Cold coconut fragments butchered the rice. Dried chili invaded the brown sugar. Ginger ambushed the raisins. Onion mugged the milk. A cultural riot exploded in my mouth.

Then I tasted gridlocks, negotiations, formal re-introductions. All eyes were on me. My tongue swirled in bewilderment...

And then I asked for more.

Vig winked, his girlfriend laughed, and his mother welcomed a new addition to her family.

Happy Deepa-Raya, everyone.

Getting Hitched

2006-10-13T19:01:00.000+08:00

In one of the final weeks of the Broken Bridges rehearsal, Douglas Lim approached me to do a corporate video which he was putting together for Nielsen Media Research (sister company of ACNielsen). With his mates Rashid Salleh and Gavin Yap also roped in, he was planning to shoot within the week right after our musical's run.

Taking the mickey out of the film Hitch, the video would focus on simpleton Adam (Rashid) trying to win the heart of Julie (me) who seems to be a bit too out of his league. This is until corporate-savvy savior Nielsen (Gavin) comes to save him from the pits of humiliation with his wealth of information about what makes a girl like Julie tick. The half-hour presentation, aptly titled Get Hitched, would be shot in two days; my role was minor enough for me to only be needed on the first.

My call time was 6.30am, the earliest out of the three actors. Gavin however, being the darling he is, disregarded his 11am call time and picked me up before sunrise. Even Rashid was already there by the time we arrived at the venue.

We shot at the prolific production house, Popiah Pictures - a bungalow office cum studio in the heart of town. Their current hit TV series is Realiti, a drama set in a Malaysian Idol-esque atmosphere. I've worked on a few small projects with the folks at Popiah a couple of years ago, and I'm pleasantly surprised that they still remember me.

My makeup and hair is done, and my solo scenes are the first to be shot. Waking up earlier than the alarm, I'm not too acquainted with the wee hours of the morning yet. The scenes are thankfully short enough for me to stay on the ball. I'm finding it hard to rub the sleep out of my eyes, though. Hopefully my fatigue doesn't show up on camera.

Douglas runs through the schedule

All of Julie's interation is with Adam alone. I suspect that one of the first scenes I shoot with Rashid is strategically scheduled to wake me up good and proper.

Adam compassionately offering Julie some medication for her headache...

...which, unbeknownst to him, was caused by his romantic kompang composition.

Breaking

Douglas directs, Ping & Kim from Popiah & Gavin look on

Audrey & Shan Shan from Nielsen Media Research, the former of which helped a great deal in taking the shots posted in this entry.

Gavin, when suited up, appears criminally distinguished. He lends me his spare shirt to keep me from contracting frostbite in the studio.

Preparing for the next scene

The boys going through their lines. A couple of run-throughs and they're set, compared to me who has to study the script like I'll be graded on it, and still flub whatever minimal lines I have.

I *had* to take a picture of the make-up artist, Ashley. She was adorable enough for me to want to tie a bell in her hair and attach her to my cellphone.

Getting ready for the scene where Adam lays his eyes on Julie for the first time.

Shan Shan makes her acting debut as café lady...

... from whom Julie purchases a bottle of water and the day's papers.

Adam is mesmerized, and Julie turns to smile at him.

The oldest trick in the business never loses its effectiveness.

Adam's 'kiss whistle' attracts the wrong kind of attention in the form of an effeminate, dreadlocked Douglas. The bottom half of the picture has been cropped at my discretion...

although I do think his legs deserve some positive form of recognition.

Nielsen lays down the facts...

...but not without proving his credibility.

Watching the action from the monitor screen is quite cool.

Adam picks up the courage to make his first move on me.

Working with Rashid when he kicks into comedian mode requires a ridiculous amount of concentration. Halfway through this scene, I spaced out of my character and almost burst out laughing when I realized that the guy next to me was being an absolute freak.

Despite a few technical hiccups throughout the day, we managed to wrap up the day's shoot on time. The guys had to rush off right after to KLPac and do a small role reversal: Gavin directs Rashid and Douglas in their upcoming horror-themed theatre production, Frankenstein In Love.

I was extremely nervous at the thought of working with Douglas and his posse, who can all be considered veterans in their own right. But they kept me as comfortable as I could be on set with their patience and encouragement, and it helped that their chemistry as both friends and colleagues kept the air casually constructive.

Douglas told me that the screening of the video was shown to over 300 members of the media a few weeks ago. The event was such a resounding success that the clients would like to take us all out for drinks soon. I'm looking forward to it - watching the boys rile each other up is always wholesome entertainment.

Tidbits on S'kali

2006-10-10T18:14:00.000+08:00

Honestly, what I thought of my own movie? Seeing it six times in total doesn't make it any easier for me to answer that question. But I'll see what I can come up with, despite the likelihood of digressing.

The cast knew that the film was very performance-driven, and that we had to give it our all to keep the script afloat. That being said, it was an absolute joy watching Derek, Jayaram, Angeline and Zimy in their element. Each of them have their own set of idiosyncrasies and method of execution which I love looking out for on screen. If they'd ever consider acting as a career, then I'm quite certain they'd go very far indeed.

My most anticipated scene was the infamous one featuring Jason Lo. I always laughed out loud at the comedic timing and character interaction. "David Bahawi"? Pure genius.

I can't lie and say I'm over the moon about the censorship of two otherwise lovely scenes. I put a lot of effort into it as an actor, and I feel they turned out really well. To not get any closure by not being able to watch the fruits of my labor is anti-climatic to say the least. Not that there was any full-on making out that was shot anyway. Does a remotely intimate scene from Malaysian film make deem it more likely to corrupt the minds of the local innocents? I just saw a Hollywood flick yesterday that featured a long, passionate, uncensored snog. Go figure.

The fight scene is agonizing to watch even long after I detach myself from the scene. At the time, I drew frustration and sadness from the sudden demise of my dog, which happened just the week before. After that, the emotions took on a life of their own. We did the scene in two takes - one from outside the car, the second one shot inside. What was selected for majority of the scene was the first take, and I'm surprised at how Jayaram and I managed to pull it off. It is one scene that I always watch with a half-eyed grimace. Both Jayaram and I had never screamed like that at anyone else in our lives before, and it scared us s***less. Anger is never a pleasant place to visit.

Yasmin Ahmad's scene was the last one shot for the film. Even though I was not involved, I made a special request to tag along and watch from behind the camera. Awaiting her arrival, eyeing every incoming white car from the rooftop and expecting it to be her... the buzz amidst the crew was pure madness. And when she finally made her arrival, it was like magic. She brings with her an amazing air of warmth and regality. She also happens to read people like books. (I hardly spoke to anyone on set at the time, and she made comments to the filmmakers about me that were so spot on, I could easily accuse her of espionage.) Both Jason Lo and Yasmin's scenes were two of very few that strayed quite far from the original script, and consequently both scenes turned out very nicely in terms of flow and spontaniety.

With Yasmin & Jayaram

I loved the soundtrack, very acoustic-driven. Gave it a down-to-earth urban feel.

In terms of scriptwriting, direction and technical aspects, I have no expertise and therefore limited rights to having a credible say, but I think the critics have been fair enough in offering constructive opinion.

Kakiseni

Think Online

CinemaOnline

Malay Mail

Friends have asked what's next in the pipeline for me. There's the 2-week rehearsal and one-weekend staging of Broken Bridges the Musical in Ipoh next month, but unfortunately the plans to re-stage the production at KLPac in December have recently been called off. So after Ipoh, I'd probably just take a breather til the end of the year. There has been proposal and brief discussion of projects in 2007 that would keep me overtly occupied on top of my full-time job again. But talk being talk, I'd rather stay mum and keep my fingers crossed for now.

I hope I'll carry forward what I've learnt from this production to perform better in future stints. To everyone who came to watch S'kali, again I express my immense gratitute. For those who didn't get the chance, look out for the DVD that's coming out soon.

When your university is a four-letter word

2006-10-06T09:26:00.000+08:00

-----Original Message-----
From: [name of branding executive] [mailto:______@___.edu.my]
Sent: Thursday, October 05, 2006 2:55 PM
To: [Jayaram's email]; [Tard's email]
Subject: [name of uni] Video session

Hi Jayaram and Davina Goh,

We are pleased to inform you that [name of uni] will be hosting a video-shoot session and would like to invite you to come for this session. We wish to introduce our achievers in this videoshoot, as our effort to show our appreciation to [name of uni] achievers. This interactive-cd will be featured at our roadshows & formal functions for other public students.We will be organizing this video-session within mid week - of October 2006 but the dates and time are not yet confirm.

Do email me back to express your interest, hopefully before end of this week & we will get back to you once the dates of the session is firmed.

Hope to hear from you soon. Have a wonderful day!

Best regards,
[name of branding executive]

-----Original Message-----
From: Davina Goh [mailto:ikilledkenny@yourhouse.com]
Sent: Thursday, October 05, 2006 5:26 PM
To: [name of branding executive]
Cc: [Jayaram's email]
Subject: RE: [name of uni] Video session

Hello [name of branding executive],

Thanks very much for your invitation. I however regret to inform you that I shall be turning down the offer due to negative past experiences I have had with [name of uni].

My CGPA was severely affected by lecturers who let their emotions get in the way of professionalism, after I and several other peers utilised our rights as students and offered constructive advice on their lecturing techniques. I also had to resume my studies after a year of working full-time, as I was not informed by the college that I needed to complete more subjects in order to graduate. The college had done nothing to help alleviate my situation nor offer any compensation for the massive inconvenience - if anything it deflected all blame - but I'm very lucky to have had a boss who was understanding enough to let me continue working part-time while I finished the course.

I have heard countless other stories from my friends in the same program, whom have been held back in similar cases that highlight the appalling discrepancies in [name of uni]'s administration. One of them, incidentally and unfortunately enough, includes Jayaram, but that is another story altogether. If you or any other [name of uni] representative is interested in hearing him out I am sure he will be more than happy to share his views.

I have offered my profile generously to [name of uni] through publicity work which I have done for free in the past few years. But I have come to the stage where I feel that if [name of uni] sincerely wants to put in an 'effort to show (its) appreciation to [name of uni] achievers', i.e. ask for more favors from its alumni, then I strongly suggest that it bucks up in the student welfare department first.

I hope this email reaches upper management if only for their kind awareness and future reference.

Thanks for reading, and best wishes for the shoot.

Davina Goh

Smart kid

2006-09-29T20:10:00.000+08:00

When I first heard that my colleague was taking her baby boy to classes, I thought it was a load of crock. To force a new human being into thinking processes that can be dare deemed unnatural.

'To develop the right side of his brain', so I've been told. Apperently, we have been born using this particular half of gray matter until the age of six, after which we switch to the left for the rest of our lives. Which is odd, considering the fact that my head hurts on ALL sides when I start thinking too much for my own good.

Debra brings baby Edward in quite often to the office. Whether he's in the arms of his mother, the maid or snuggled inside his snazzy BMW of a buggy, the outer corners of his partially developed brows would be perpetually pointing to the ground. Initially it was heartbreaking, then it became insipid. Anger, sorrow, frustration, surprise or blatant glee, all the expressions this eleven month-old baby could possibly muster were represented with this meaningless frown.

I'm thinking, if I was sent to school at that age, I'd look worried all the time too.

One day my co-worker wanted to borrow the color printer connected to my PC. With her usual request of the machine being for important documents needed in hard copy for a meeting to be held in two minutes starting from the time of the request, I took immediate action and plugged in her thumbdrive.

As I kept an eye on the printer's progress, I noticed that the pages plodding out of it were of a simplistic visual nature. Just large pictures, and a word denoting each one. I saw a different kinds of sports, then car logos, then currencies from around the world...

"Flashcards for Edward," my co-worker informed me.

As she gaily began to mount the pictures on cardboard squares, my heart started to bleed for little Edward. So much information, so little space. Never in my life had I felt so selfish as to steal a child away from his own parents and raise him as one of my own, in gormless way of the 'Tard. A carefree life full of alphabet burping, booger pottery and earwax scent appreciation.

Debra came in with Edward later in the afternoon, and I asked her about the flashcards. Debra explained that the intelligence center had advised her to give Edward 'homework' to keep him stimulated at home until the next class. She decided to give us a hint of what this would involve.

Debra passed Edward on to another colleague. In a pair of unfamiliar arms, he started to squirm and squeal. Debra quickly got hold of a set of cards which we had prepared for her earlier on.

"Eddy, look here," his mother called. Edward turned to her, all form of sound and movement conceived from his miniscule body suddenly ceasing. His attention was hers to exploit, and thus she began the demonstration.

"Look Eddy, Football! Tennis! Hockey! Bowling! Golf!" Debra flashed card by card, all twenty-odd of them. Never stay on the same card for more than one and a half seconds, that was the rule given to her. All the while, Edward's eyes, now the size of saucers, remained fixed on the cards. The outer corners of is eyebrows, if my eyes were not cheating me, twitched momentarily. It was complete and utter immersion. All my colleagues watched him in awe. I did so in fear. How could this bundle of life who's lived 1/24 of my life possess a power of concentration that supercedes my own?

Once Debra was done, Edward snapped back into itchy-bottomed-baby mode, the same reaction one would expect right after being told to emerge from a hypnosis session at the count of three. Amidst the office spectators, Debra then selected two random cards from the pack, and showed them to Edward side by side.

"Now Eddy, can you show me which one is... Golf?"

Edward casually glanced at Football, then Golf. Tennis, Golf. Golf, Tennis. Tennis. Tennis.

Looking at his mother, then away into a faraway distance, his tiny left hand raised up and splayed its fingers messily on...

Golf.

Everyone around him gasped in astonishment. A child barely into his first year of existence, being shown an array of sports - an activity he's too young to even comprehend - and the crazy kid points to friggin' Tiger on cue.

Thinking it was a fluke, I asked Debra to test him again.

Debra obliged, and pulled out Swimming and Tennis.

"Eddy honey, which one is Tennis?"

Edward looked at both in the same nonchalant manner as before, raised the same hand, and brushed it across a racket-wielding Martina.

Everyone applauded in delight, except for the 'Tard. She
took a few steps backward, fanning her behind in a frail attempt to disperse the smell of freshly shat pants.

Suddenly, I started visualizing the show I could possibly produce, of Debra and her miracle flashcard baby. Taking them to the streets, showing the mind-boggling trick to curious passerby: young and old, rich and poor. To enchant and enthrall, inspire and intimidate. The new age of street magic. I'd sell it to satellite TV. The ratings would soar. Jay Leno would crack a joke or two. And I'd be bringing home the Benjamins, baby.

I looked at Edward. Edward looked back at me with his insipid frown. I went back to work.

Looks like noone will be sniffing earwax with me anytime soon.

Zoo-per Trooper

2006-09-22T17:39:00.000+08:00

I've been meaning to post these pictures up for the longest time - since March, to be exact - but just never found the time to go through the multitude of pictures. Now that I've finally have, I would like to present to you what is probably the largest image-driven blog post yet in my Nation.

The Zoorific Sessions were held late 2005 and early this year by Raleigh International. Its main objective was to encourage its members as well as the public to offer a helping hand in the everyday maintenance of the national zoo. This would include administration, cleaning out the habitats, preparing food for the animals, and looking after school groups on tour.

I was quite looking forward to the opportunity, but with Cyber-red suddenly not being able to offer her comradeship, I decided to wake up at the crack of dawn regardless, and head down on to make my first-ever visit to the the zoo.

I was quite apprehensive about getting there on time - if at all - since I rarely venture out so far on my own. *Cue Samwise Gamgee voice clip from LOTR film: "If I take one more step, it’ll be the farthest away from home I’ve ever been!"* But the thrill of getting lost in Ampang was all too much to bear.

Looking out from the train.

If I was a Bear who Cared, this would be my Stare.

I stepped off at the Wangsa Maju stop, then hailed a cab quite easily to my destination. My heart tugged at my throat in fear of me getting my dates wrong - the place looked deserted. Luckily some college students turned up, and it was all good.

Good morning and welcome to...

Several more students came from a few local universities. They either conversed in Malay or Cantonese, so being the lone banana-tard, I made myself look busy with excessive camera fiddling. The Raleigh people eventually arrived in their bright yellow tees, and soon thereafter we were led in through the side of the main entrance.

Once we passed through the gate, we had to stamp our feet onto a moist patch of seemingly germ-infested sponge. We were then told that the sponge was actually soaked in a sanitizing solution, so we don't introduce any new bacteria into the premises.

They sprayed the wheels of incoming vehicles with the same solution. Wicked.

Team leader Albert and his rally of Raleigh-ans

One of the zoo personnel announced that we were to be split into groups and delegated to work in various offices and exhibits. Those who had previously worked at the exhibits decided to let the newbies get a taste of wildlife, and with that, I was conveniently slotted into the group assigned to help clean out Savannah Walk.

We all received badges, which unfortunately had to be returned by the end of the session. I got a kick out of wearing it while the afternoon lasted.

I is comin' home, momma.

Don't you wish you could take one home to decorate your front lawn?

Breakfast time

My group was taken to the animal enclosures to spruce things up. The guys working there were a jovial bunch. They split us again: one half to sweep up the road, and the other to hose down the empty animal pens.

'Tard on the loose

I found this on the shed where the gardening tools were stored. Personally, it freaked the bejesus out of me.

Wicked 'Tard of the West

I peeped into the pens where a few four-legged friends were temporarily residing in, either due to sickness, injury or the protective nature of motherhood. A few of them seemed fidgety, their eyes gleaming with anxiety to bust out of the wooden doors and back out into the artificial wilderness.

They should really clean this dude up.

Family Portrait

The male ostrich was quite a looker.

One of the zookeepers opened the pen for me to check him out further. This was the one and only picture I managed to take. If you sense the general direction of movement of the subject matter, it's quite self-explanatory.

The zookeepers then decided to throw in a bonus for us: to rake up the giraffe exhibit, with the giraffes obviously still inside. (And who said volunteers don't have all the fun?)

All aboard the Savannah Express!

We chugged into the open field, where we were supposed to be driven right into the heart of the enclosure. Unfortunately, we were halted by the big kahuna giraffe, whom despite being given strict commands by the zookeeper to move aside, stood his territorial ground.

We ended up having to go into reverse mode and park ourselves at the edge of the enclosure, and we got to work. It was a surreal experience, working on the same ground that the (mostly) genial giants call their home.

The zookeeper having a chat with his mates while we labor on.

No, I'm not nervous. Stiff, but not nervous. Shut up.

The mosquito population out here was just buzzin'.

A few ostriches were kept in the same enclosure. We were told that they were female, judging from their grey plumage. You know in cartoons, where female animals are depicted with more bodily curves and a pair of ridiculously long eyelashes? For some reason - might have been too much sun - I sorta saw that in these ostriches. One was quite the busybody, and kept snooping around us despite the zookeepers constantly shooing her away.

What every man wants: a fancy ride and a long-legged bird.

"... Ostrich legs are also lethal weapons: a kick can stave in a human being's skull." (Source)

After that was done, there was still time to kill, so the zookeepers took us back to the pens to let us feed some of the animals.

Have you no eye, deer. (Geddit?)

Making a buck to get some doe

Albert taking a break amongst the tubs storing the animal feed. I took a nibble. It was quite nice.

We were taken to the edge of the rhino enclosure, where another zookeeper was explaining to us how intelligent the creatures actually are. The reason why this fact isn't apparent is because they are also very stubborn. To prove this, he called the male rhino over by name. The rhino's ears flicked. "You see? He's listening..." the zookeeper chirped.

Eventually, the male rhino did in fact respond by coming closer to us, inch by inch, until he was finally almost right under out noses. We managed to pet him a little whilst feeding him leaves.

This is not a zoom-in. He really was this close.

The day finally wrapped up with a congregation of all the groups at the entrance and patting each other on the back for a job well done. It was a great day out. I learned a thing or two about wild animals and what goes into their welfare, and despite taking the risk of going solo, I ended up working together with great people who were just as dedicated to offering their services to keeping the zoo in tip-top shape.

Zoo Negara is always on the lookout for volunteers. For details, you can visit their website. You can also contact their Education Department directly, at 03-4108 2219.

One Chapter Closes

2006-09-12T12:10:00.000+08:00

Pulling up to the kerb outside my house today, emo rock blasting through the windows wound down, he groggily passed me a sturdy white plastic bag.

I opened the bag and glanced in to see the grand maroon samfu-style top I gave him during our weekend in Malacca.

"This top... it won't be of any use to me if you give it back..."

He responded with a resigning heave of his chest.

"I gotta go."

Then he zoomed off, emo rock continuing to contaminate the silent neighborhood air.

I brought the bag upstairs to my room, almost not wanting to properly check its contents but forcing my fingers to pry it open. When he said he wanted to 'drop of some of my stuff', I got more back than I had expected. All my gifts to him, all tangible form of memory, returned to its sender. My eyes fell upon a flowery handmade envelope. I peeled the expiring cellophane strip away from the flap. Enclosed was my first-ever love letter to anyone, when he and I first started going out. I started to choke. Then, another unfamiliar piece of raw unbleached paper, with his war-torn scribblings, explaining why he couldn't keep anything that was a part of me anymore. The envelope still felt weighted.

No, not the ring. For God's sake, not the r-

A dull chunk of metal slipped out onto my trembling palm.

I crumpled into my bed and surrendered to its softness, gripping the ring with all my might, forcing my defiant heart to accept that this really was the end.

It has been almost a week since we threw in the towel, and every day brings the agony of another cut freshly carved into my emotional flesh. This morning's wound was unbearable.

I've been told that there is never a good time to break up with someone, but in our case I believe there was. I had just come out of a four-month project that put a strain between him and I, but we fought through the pangs of loneliness and guilt respectively. The day after it was all over, we hugged an amazing hug. The feeling of being in each other's arms was an overwhelming reward; the feeling of coming home.

The very next day, we hugged each other goodbye for good.

I hate how reality bit me so suddenly, and so fricking hard, after triumph over adversity.

Mom suddenly revealed she had been talking to her family about my relationship behind my back, and then the next thing I know, she pulls out a letter from her sister and reads out to me the reason why Aunty Shirley disapproves of me going out with a Muslim. I screamed at her for making mountains out of molehills, but I was ultimately hurt not by her family's discouragement, but by my own admittance that the reasons actually made sense. Every time I wanted to put the issue of religion behind me, it would come back in more monstrous proportions, and it finally got too much for me to bear.

I met up with him that night to talk, and to perhaps find a compromise. But we knew there was none.

I love him, and I was in love with him, but I would have had to make a few sacrifices in my principles if I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him, including the idea of my children being born with a right to choose their own faith. I dreaded the day that I would have had to put one priority on top of another that was equally vital. We knew were each other stood before we took our friendship to another level, so we knew that we would have had to confront the situation eventually. We just didn't expect it to happen so soon. Friends on both sides are shocked and lost for words.

Some people don't understand why the thought of marriage came so early in the relationship. I despise myself for looking so far in the future, but at the same time, I was petrified to stay around to find out if the prospect was there.

Everything was perfect otherwise. And that is what is making it even harder for us to let go.

I'm so sorry Bahir. I'm bleeding for you too.

Premiere of S'kali The Movie

2006-09-05T17:57:00.000+08:00

Hi guys,

The wait for S'kali is finally over! It will premiere on 14th September 2006 at Cineleisure Damansara. The venue will let it run like a normal film at normal price, for two weeks. However, if the response is favorable, the run will be extended for another few weeks, so do come and support if you can.

hitz.fm has dedicated this week to giving away free passes to a special hitz preview screening on 12th September. For more details, visit their website.

Also, if you're not too late to catch this blog post, Perantauan Pictures has also organized a rather intruiging contest to give away tickets to the exclusive press preview, happening this coming Friday. Closing date is tomorrow. Check out the production blog for more info.

This production has come a long way, so thanks loads for the patience and support. Hope you will enjoy the show as much as we did putting it together.

*BTW Happy Birthday Jayaram... Love you to bits.*

Cast of S'kali (L-R): Derek Ong, Angeline Rose, Zimy Rozan, Jayaram Nagaraj, Davina Goh

The Bridges have been Broken

2006-09-05T14:28:00.000+08:00

Broken Bridges The Musical has finally come to a close after four months of rehearsals, two weeks of performance and nine hours of celebration. I thought I would never make it through in one piece. Not to say that I haven't - I've lost enough weight to perhaps suggest four fifths of my whole - but being in a musical isn't exactly a venture that one should delve into just for kicks. (After all, there's also the spins, jumps, and the beloved 'pain is your friend' pilates sessions.)

To whip a gang of mostly amateurs into singing, dancing, acting extraordinaires to the point of an audience member asking, "Are all these guys professionals?" is an accomplishment that would make both trainers and trainees beam with an uncontrollable amount of pride.

And that is why even after an overabundance of misfortunes in health and psychological makeup, I have lapped up every moment of being part of an ensemble.

To all involved and those who came to watch: Thank you for the experience. I'll upload pictures when I can.

Next stop, Ipoh town for real in November.

Flower can't wait.

See ya, Steve

2006-09-05T13:18:00.000+08:00

Thank you Mr. Irwin.
For your zest for life, for your boundless courage, for your unbelievable compassion.
You were an inspiration to the world.
Rest in peace, mate.

Secret Heroine

2006-09-01T14:31:00.000+08:00

The shrunken cheeks of my bottom shifting uncomfortably across the steel pipes that constituted the bus stop bench, I leafed over yet another page of my budget novel. The bus was extraordinarily tardy this morning, and the patch of morning sun escaping past the tree branches behind my back had started to force the bitter odor of scorched hair out of my already damaged tresses.

Bus No.5 finally pulled over, the oblong chunk of hot metal coming to a halt with the stifled screeching of old tyres and loose defecation of pore-clogging soot. I stepped onto the corrugated steel steps, and my eyes met with another pair, of intense dark brown. I was halfway digging into my wallet for coins when I had to look up again to properly notice the navy blue headscarf, the tidied eyebrows, the thin lips painted a violent shade of red.

The driver was a woman.

I know it shouldn't have been a big deal, but the last time I had witnessed a she-person behind the wheel of a bus was a certain panicky Ms. Bullock operating one at fifty miles an hour.

My face brightened in the bus driver's view, although her face remained ignorant. Or apathetic, I was unable to discern. I plunked a few coins into the fare box and bumbled my way around the crowd to get a good grip between two other anonymous hands on a pole, my feet embracing the floor of a bus that was driven by a woman.

During the two-minute ride from the Bangsar LRT Station to my office at Midvalley City, I would usually catch an insignificant nap or speed-read the last two pages of the chapter I'm currently on. This time, I just stood quietly between the re-furnished seats of gaudy orange felt, letting my ears sponge up the surrounding spill of multi-lingual banter in a bus that was driven by a woman.

The ride was no less smoother, nor faster or slower, neither did wet armpits stamp their brand of ink any less hesitantly on my blouse sleeves. But the situation that would have been a shrug to many was a smile of serendipity to the 'tard. I didn't personally know her, but I wanted to give her a huge hug. For facing the traffic jams, the carbon monoxide, the unforgiving weather, the unruly passengers, and taking it all in like a man.

As the bus parked itself by the Midvalley bus stand and the crowd started to compress themselves against the main exit in the centre of the vehicle, I pushed myself against the general direction of Malaysian kiasu-ness to reach the front of the bus.

"T'ima kah-say, kak", I told the driver with a shy smile.

She gave the faintest hint of a smirk and nodded. I stepped off the front of the bus in my heels like a toddler just learning to walk and I wandered off to my office with a memory of her sturdiness, hoping that it wouldn't be the last time our eyes would meet; hoping that by that next time, I won't provoke her too much when I try and tell her in Malay how much she rocks.

FACES Interview (Unpublished)

2006-08-15T16:33:00.000+08:00

S'kali The Movie is featured in the latest issue of FACES magazine. Unfortunately due to space constraints, an interview with the retard is not featured. She thought it was an interesting set of questions and that it would provide an nice opportunity to show what makes her tick, so here it is for the benefit of the curious.

I've also thrown in a video clip, a sequence recorded from the Broken Bridges press preview held late last month. Featuring the unapolagetically suave Tony Eusoff in the musical number, 'KL In A Nutshell', his larger-than-life performance is one I always look forward to. (Look out for the 'walking sugus sweet' in pink.) Big thanks to Nazrul for the link!

1. Being a model and actress makes it important for you to look your best at all times, do you agree? If yes, can you explain the photos on your blog?
(I thought this would be a funny/personal question, but if it is offensive please don't answer the 2nd bit and sorry! - No worries. Offensive? I know no such word. )

Looking pretty is just another part of the job - I will invest time and effort into it if I feel it suits an occasion. But for the most part, I am the 'rebel of conformity' who you see on my blog. I've seen how society's perception of attractiveness can damage people, so I'd like to inspire people to believe that it's the inside that always counts no matter how you look. Plus, looking like an idiot is heaps more fun.

2. Which was your favourite and how was it different, acting in S'kali, The Flowers Beneath My Skin and Broken Bridges (musical)?

It would be impossible for me to pick a favourite. All three have challenged me on completely different levels. 'Flowers' is an experimental black-and-white silent film with very complex, unconventional roles, so it was tough to tackle it professionally and convincingly as a rookie actor. S'kali rides on themes which really hit home for me, and I dug into a plethora of emotions both new and familar to flesh out Sze Huey's character. Being in a musical demands an insane amout of time, energy, focus, discipline and devotion to performing arts, but all that only magnifies the feeling of accomplishment.

3. How do you find the time to work on so many projects at once while maintaining an assistant event manager post?

By getting less sleep! Whenever my full-time work peaks at the same time that my outside projects do, my loved ones start praying for me. Haha. There's a lot of sacrifices that I've made in order to do pursue my passion whilst maintaining financial stability. Being kept on my toes is a good thing but not for prolonged periods, so once the havoc from my current projects is over, I'm planning to go comatose for a while.

4. What is your best memory from working on S'kali?

Being committed to the production for one and a half years before shooting, working with the exuberant Perantauan team and bonding with the most amazing group of cast members any actor could wish for, is one whole mind-blowing memory in itself.

5. Judging by Naomi's Death petition which you wrote and submitted with over 230 signatures, you're definitely an animal lover. Any shoutouts on that?

Treating animals with respect is a notion that's relatively unheard of in our culture, but it's comforting to know that animal activists in Malaysia are being a lot more vocal these days. Their efforts are paying off, judging by the rise in animal cruelty cases that have been highlighted in the media. The Death To Naomi Petition received some news coverage too, I'm glad it's made an impact. To those who want a new pet, adopt one! Don't encourage unnecessary pet breeding for aesthetic's sake, when there are thousands more potential friends that still live on the streets.

'KL In A Nutshell' (Tony Eusoff, Douglas Lim, Ho Soon Yoon & Ensemble)

Broken Bridges The Musical

2006-08-11T16:33:00.000+08:00

Broken Bridges The Musical
19th August - 3rd September 2006
Time:
8.30pm (Sunday shows @ 3pm, no shows on Mondays)
Ticket Price:
RM80 for middle aisle
RM60 for side aisles RM40 for students, disabled & senior citizens (all tiers)
Venue:
Pentas 1, Kuala Lumpur Performing Arts Centre

Tickets are on sale now, and can be purchased online or by calling the box office at 03-40479000 (KLPac) or 03-20949400 (The Actors Studio, Bangsar).

Showtime is one week away and I'm just about recovering from a nasty bout of flu that has kept me out of rehearsals for almost a week. And now my weakened lungs will be running on steroids for the next month or so. Not good, but the show must go on.

Rehearsals have lately consisted of brushing up on physical movement and positioning and vocal diction and expression, whilst strengthening our character development. Splitting our attention between a choreographer, a vocal coach and a director can produce a slight dizzying effect.

I've been taking too many pictures to mention, but while I sift through them I could keep you entertained with a few shots taken from the shoot of the poster itself.

Costume designer Yeow, Stage manager Bebe and Janice (portraying female lead role Mei Ling) exemplifying the aforementioned 'slight dizzying effect'.

Do not mess with THE Joanne Kam Poh Poh.

Sungei Wang once again proves that it is the one place to find anything and everything.

Yeow in the midst of creating a beehive hairdo without the aid of a wig. Enough back-combing to require a full bottle of conditioner afterwards.

Ensemble members Carol and I comparing hemlines.

Douglas Lim, full of sexy pimp goodness.

Thanks and to all who are coming, thanks for your support and hope you have a rollicking time.

Special thanks to the following bloggers for coming to the special preview!
Kaki Cucuk Langit
Jasiminne
Bryan Chin
Asryaf Lee
Shaz

Screenings: 'Flowers' & 'S'kali' Trailer

2006-08-03T11:58:00.000+08:00

Hey everyone,
Just to let you know of the following events that are happening back to back.

The Flowers Beneath My Skin public screening

DATE: Sunday, 6th August 2006
TIME: 3pm
VENUE: IndiCine, Level 2, KL Performing Arts Centre (Map)
ENTRANCE FEE: RM10

For more info, check out the notice on Kakiseni or the official website.

"You know what's worse than an arthouse film? A FEATURE-LENGTH arthouse film." - Glaring Notebook

A warning to the conventionally inclined: Flowers is severely abstract. I discovered that the only reason why I even only vaguely understood what was going on during the first screening was because I personally knew the director's intentions (or at least some of them). If you manage to catch this one and would like to discuss your thoughts, feel free to drop me a comment and we'll dissect.

* * * * *

S'kali trailer screening

EVENT: Malaysian Shorts series by Kelab Seni Filem Malaysia
DATE: Monday, 7th August 2006
TIME: 8pm
VENUE: Theatrette, HELP University College (Map)
ENTRANCE FEE: None

Amir Muhammad has offered my director Arivind the chance to show a hint of what audiences can expect of our upcoming film. Q&A will follow. For more info, check out the notice on Kakiseni or the Production Blog. By the by, Arivind and Associate Producer Bahir were interviewed on The Breakfast Show on NTV7 this morning to promote the film. Release dates are just around the corner, will keep you posted.

That's it for now. Will post up updates on Broken Bridges in a separate entry soon. Once again, thanks to everyone for your support.

Fann-cy the odds

2006-08-01T12:36:00.000+08:00

Nicholas, my ensemble mate from Broken Bridges, was driving us to rehearsals in indecisive weather. Me feeling worn out as usual, my head remained glued to my seat as I gazed into clouds in hues of beige and grey, as they performed their motionless tango with invisible winds, my dreamscape interrupted with the occasional flash of arrogant palm tree.

My eyes trailed down to a lower angle until they were met with a familiar vision.

A fair Asian woman greeting a mirror, hair loosely pulled back, a makeup brush sweeping the high cheekbones of a bright, sweet morning face.

If I were rewarded the benefit of a 48-hour beauty nap prior to a date with Joaquin Phoenix, the fresh eagerness of applying blush in such a circumstance would have probably fit the bill for such an appealing ad.

In fact, it would have fit the bill too much for comfort.

Despite the woman's all-transending beauty contradicting my own, I could not help but wonder: Had someone used my face on a billboard without my consent? And if they did, how did they manage to get a retard posing in such a ladylike manner and amazingly cheat the power of mental recollection?

I had barely opened my mouth to voice out my curiosity when Nicholas got to it first.

"Hey, is that you?!?"

A few days later, I tried to approach my boyfriend about it, quite an obstacle for a woman whose only concise knowledge about roads in Malaysia are the ones situated within a two minute's driving radius from her house.

"Hey, do you know this... er... I'm not sure of the road but er... I think it's either called the NKVE or the LDP, i'm not sure... it's the highway that's between Eastin hotel and... my house? There's a bill-"

"Billboard that looks like you? YEAH. I passed it the other day and I almost wanted to tell you off for not telling me that you did it."

For it to fool even one who knows where to poke me for most comedic sound effect, curiosity dissolved and in its place, contempt for a girl of such audacity as to impersonate me for profitable gains and more insultingly, leave my boo in a befuddled state of suspicion that his happy tree friend has ditched him to be a residential suite endorsement diva.

Therefore, pretty girly-girl billboard girl, I the fearless retard challenge you to a

DOPPELGANGER SHOWDOWN

Fann "Don't be fooled by the rocks that I got" Wong

Disco "I like to moovit moovit" Very

Gimme a ring when you're feeling lucky.

Naomi's Death - The Aftermath

2006-07-25T10:56:00.000+08:00

Hi everyone,

Over the weekend, I recieved a letter from the Dr. Mohd Zairi Serlan, Director of Department of Veterinary Services, Penang, in response to the Justice for Naomi Petition I personally mailed to him.

It seems like he has a completely different story from what has been originally narrated to us by Raihana, Naomi's owner, although it should be taken into consideration that her story has also come second-hand from what been told to her by her family. Raihana's folks were the ones who took Naomi to the clinic, but Raihana didn't know about anything that had happened until after Naomi died.

I'll be posting a reply back to Dr. Serlan to thank him for his efforts, and as well as forwarding the letter to the newspapers who have expressed interest in the case. If you have been personally spreading the word about the petition, I would greatly appreciate it if you could help send this out to those who expressed concern too.

You may take a look at the letter below, as well as Raihana's response to it. I shall leave the rest to your judgement.

Whatever has actually transpired, we now finally have received word from someone who matters, and I think his explanation and clarification has been clear enough. We wanted answers, and without the *numbers*, an investigation would have been extremely unlikely. So to all who signed and helped spread the word, I really have to say a huge

thank you.

Let's keep our voices loud and strong, and make it matter.

DVS Penang letter, Page 1

DVS Penang letter, Page 2

Raihana's response:

Dear all

I wish to thank every one for your support. Without you all, I would have never been able to highlight this case. In any case its only fair that we listen to both sides of the story. And now we have the clinic version. Before I go any further I just want you alll kind souls to remember that I am not doing this for financial resons, all I wanted was reasons for the cruel death of a life.

Now regarding Dr Serlan's letter.

1. Why send Naomi only after she was critically ill? I didnt know she was. And is that an excuse for her death? Last time I saw her, she was not critically ill and I have vaccination records from one of the most expensive private clinics in penang island, more than 30KM away from my house in the mainland (i never had the heart to throw away anything related to my cat). The most recent vaccine was a booster I gave in January. She was hail and healthy then.

2. Why leave her behind?. Although I personally did not leave Naomi there (I would have never done that),she was left there by my uncle Dr Siddique even though there were no boarding facilities because they promised to look after her. Being a retired vertrinarian himself, based on their promises at the clinic she was left at the care of the staff in the clinic. There was no food provided because there was no mention of it. I have left animals for boarding in clinics numerous times (and they were stray cats too) before I rehoused them. And in all those times, the clinic provided food. If the clinic were not able to feed her, why didnt they let my uncle know? My brother was involved in this too and he has confirmed that there were promises to look after her by the staff. If the clinic did not provide such services why take her in? If they didnt atleast then they would have gone to a private clinic. My uncle was attached to the Government clinic and based on this relationship with the workers he left Naomi there.

3. They took the dead cat away because there were no mention of autopsy. If they had wanted to do an autopsy they would have to know the cat was dead. But they didnt even know it. My cousin on going to pick it up found it dead.

By the way there is no vetrinarian in that clinic. It is run by a bunch of assistants with no proper qualifications. How could they diagnose the cat so accurately with no vet in there?

Also the day I found out about her death I got a call from Mr Ramu who was in this from the beginning (he was one of the staff who had said he will care for naomi) When I threatened to make a case of it he apologised and said that it was the fault of one mr Raju (name not sure). Even last week Mr Ramu had gone to penang to meet my mother and before that my uncle to apologize. Why would they go to such lengths if they were in the clear.

I sadly have nothing in black and white and cannot prove my case against such a big entity. But for him to shift the blame on me hurts very badly. But when has the guilty ever taken blame? Especially when it is the government? I just hope other ordinary folks do not make the mistake I made.

Sadly for me there was only one Naomi. I loved her very very dearly and to think that she died in a painful way is hurtful. Yes more than anyone else I blame myself, I was not a good master in the end. And I keep thinking how much she would have wanted me there when she had no water or food. I neglected her and for that I have a lifetime to regret.

As for the clinic- No they did not do whatever possible to help Naomi, they just killed her in a very agonizing way. I rather wish they just put her to sleep.

with sorrow,
Raihana Souket Ali

Bound by love

2006-07-12T14:26:00.000+08:00

Here's an update on Kit Ong's first feature-length film, The Flowers Beneath My Skin.

Think Online have been doing a terrific job with getting Kit's project out in the open. They have created a cute little official website for the movie. They have also published the first in-depth article about Kit and his directorial debut, constructed from interviews with the man and others involved in the film.

They first media screening was held on Friday 16th June at The Attic in Bangsar. Unfortunately I wasn't able to make it as I had musical rehearsals. Coverage appeared in the press a week later.

'Flowers' in The Star

'Flowers' in CinemaOnline

To give you guys a partial look into the transformation process of retard into lesbian-with-fetish-for-ancient-Chinese-foot-binding, here's a couple of clips I've dug out of my video archives.

This is Elaine, my onscreen lover, starting off the binding process with bandage...

Then securing it with surgical tape and another layer of cheap-but-does-the-trick chiffon from Kamdar.

The finished product:

It looks pretty, but walking around like that for hours on end does have its shortcomings.

This is what one foot always looked like after unwrapping from a day's work. (Yes, my muscles are relaxed here.)

If looking at all this make you smack your lips in temptation, wait til you see the part about castration.

Here are details of the first public screening:

DATE: Tuesday, 25th July 2006
VENUE: Theatrette, HELP University College
TIME: 8pm
ENTRANCE FEE: RM10

The irony in this is that the press conference for Broken Bridges is to take place that afternoon on the same day, with no mention of rehearsals. Just a few days ago however, Joe the director has decided that rehearsals will proceed as usual. So that means I'm gonna have to give the screening a miss for the second time. According to the press however, I might get one last chance on Sunday 6th August, when it will apparently be shown at KLPac, the same place where my rehearsals are held, and right after I finish too. I'm keeping my toes and fingers crossed.

Hope you guys can make it for the HELP screening though, so you can let me know how wierd it was to watch Malaysia's first black-and-white silent film.

Thanks for the support!

Yumi Dumi Doo

2006-06-30T18:54:00.000+08:00

I checked the time nervously. Why wasn't she here yet? My colleagues Rita and Soo Lee were also bore worried faces, and Eina was not any less anxious about her friend's late arrival. Flustering backstage during the matinee show for Cartoon Network Live!, we could hear the sounds of the ongoing fiesta coming to a close. A miscommunication problem led to Ala coming late for the post-show Character Meet & Greet session, and she was currently situated in the middle of a nasty jam in town. Eina, already geared up in her Ami costume, looked at me squarely between the eyes and said, "I have a feeling you might have to jump in for Ala..."

Me? Doing a professional mascot job before hundreds of high-maintenance children and their even more high-strung biological caretakers?

The shrieks of a thousand toddlers touched unmeasurable decibels as the confetti cannons burst a colorful shower into the sky. The show was over.

"GET HER IN THE COSTUME NOW!" Eina screeched.

As I yanked on the skin-tight black bodysuit, I could see in my head the two main stars of Hi Hi Puffy AmiYumi emerging from their secret hideaway to welcome a swarming frenzy of pint-sized fanatics, only for Yumi to trip over her foam-padded rockstar boots and land on her oversized head, of which the impact would cause it to pop off and fling across the room to cause a hairline fracture in the skull of an unsuspecting nanny, threatening the welfare of each baby held in either arm. The kiddie adulation as well as my occupation as Assistant Events Manager would come to a shocking halt, as I get my face kicked at by the underaged mob with a simliar verocity that Santa would receive had a boy from a broken home ripped off his snowy white cotton beard, rendering the Westernized image of Jolly Old Saint Nicholas... not so jolly.

Despite the fantasy of failure, a job to be done was a job to be done. I stepped into the purple costume and got zipped up by Soo Lee and Rita, who then enclosed my limbs in fuzzy flesh.

"You can dance right? The important thing is that you can dance," Eina stressed.

To have satisfactory body coordination was one thing, but to showcase it whilst inside a completely new body that I'm only given a few seconds to adapt to is another.

Still, I somehow had no regrets telling Eina beforehand that I was curious about giving the whole mascot thing a shot if Ala couldn't make it on time. A retard craves to be loved from time to time. Even if it is by miniscule strangers who will never know who I really am, but would sell their souls to shake an enourmous four-fingered hand.

Yumi's hollow head was lowered onto me to rest upon my shoulders. My vision was entirely pitch black, save for three small holes covered with a thin mesh to form the eyes and mouth. Yumi's head was abnormally tall with her eyes placed way above my head, so only the mouth was of optical benefit. I had to work up a crowd with all five senses cut down to a fraction of their acuteness for the next half hour. And to think that all people see from the outside was a happy bouncy smiling idiot from La La Land.

Eina is also good to go, and it's showtime. Soo Lee swings the door open to the blaring helium-voiced theme song of Cartoonival. A human hand grabs my cartoonified one to guide me out to the screaming masses, with fuschia-haired Ami leading the way. The latex platform soles numb my feet from the raw sensation of walking as I wave briskly to the families thronging to the Meet & Greet area.

Once they usher Eina and I into the safe confines of the queue-rope enclosure, Soo Lee and Rita flip into strict crowd management mode. I do my retard jig to the music, and get the occasional tap on the shoulder by my popstar compadre to remind me that I have to go crazy on my air guitar. I forget that Disco-very the motherfunker is no more. Yumi the wild child of kawaii must rock the house.

Soo Lee and Rita start letting the families in for the photo-taking. A sponsor representative is armed with her chunky purple polaroid camera. The children stream in from the queue like autumn leaves on a bubbling brook. Just when I am getting accustomed to the easygoing pace, the leaves transform into logs, and the brook into white rapids. I am pushed to and fro, my body squeezed and twisted in strangely-positioned bear hugs. I step on several feet without being able to apologize. I grope around for a hand when I hear my colleague encourage the nervous children to "Shake hands!". I pose for cameras I can't see. The heat is intensifying. My shoulders are sinking under the weight of the Yumi's head.

All these difficulties pale in comparison to the moment a father strides in with his baby girl hoisted on his forearm. She looks straight into my meshed mouth and cries a cry that embodies a most gruesome murder of merriment.

The minutes start to stretch and I feel the heat seeping through to my bones. Once the crowd dies down, my colleagues and co-workers start devising ways to pose with Eina and I. One of the venue personnel who works closely with us on the show wants to join in, and asks where I am so we can pose together. Rita points to me and lets the laughter let rip. I want to pull the middle finger at them, but if only I had one.

Once the Meet & Greet session comes to an official close, my office company close in for a snap,

and make sure...

that they revel in the opportunity...

to bully a colleague...

by keeping her in her costume...

for those few minutes longer.

I hear someone saying that the mascots need to get out of their costumes before they faint, so Eina and I wave our goodbyes and get ushered back to the the backstage area. My head is removed, and everyone around me gasps. I don't understand why until I bend down, and bodily fluids rush from my hair to the floor. I am mega-drenched.

My colleagues help peel off the costume and I slump into a chair. They stare at me in wonderment at me and at a feat that was far from what was expected in my scope of employment. Eina congratulates me on a job well done, as so does Ala, who had arrived in the nick of time to watch me perform her role in the last few minutes. If the Cartoon Network directors find out that their character was portayed by a professional retard they would skin me alive. But I don't care. I am delightfully dizzy and laughing uncontrollably, the only thought in my head being the last that anyone would have expected:

Let's do that again!

For Naomi

2006-06-23T11:16:00.000+08:00

I'm going out of my usual anecdote-style postings to pick a fight with some folks... and I need all the help I can get.

To the disappointment of some however, it doesn't involve jackhammers, tommy guns or molotov cocktails.

Those who personally know me may be aware of how riled up I can get about animal cruelty, to the extent that I have boycotted one of my favorite make-up brands since news broke out about its shady process of ingredient testing. Three years ago, I tried to make a loner effort in rallying against a baby elephant's mistreatment at The Royal London Circus (The Malay Mail *almost* picked up my story but the circus owner quickly stumped out my accusations). And now, a fresh incident has come to my knowledge from the Remember Sheena Campaign blog. It bears slight resemblance to some news that I shed some light on last year.

Reading about Naomi made me frustrated because I felt helpless. Sad because it was so uncalled for. Insulted because it happened in my own country where I and so many other citizens know better. Hopping mad because it seems that nothing is being done about it. This time round, I've popped a blood vessel. And retards can get quite ruffled when they pop a blood vessel.

The webpage explains the case in detail, and if you believe in the cause, your signature would be highly appreciated. (If you're a Malaysian, including your IC number would help in providing credibility to the list.)

The Justice For Naomi's Death Petition

Once I get a significant-enough number of signatures, I will be printing it all out and posting it to the local Department of Veterinary Services, as well as the major newspapers.

If there is an error in trying to post a signature, you can also copy the following text, amend it if you'd like to add your own comments, and email it back to me at

davina.goh@gmail.com

To: Department of Veterinary Services, Malaysia

Re: Justice for Naomi's Death

Naomi, a nine-year-old tabby cat, was slightly ill so on 23rd March 2006, her owner, Raihana Souket Ali (of Bukit Mertajam, Penang, Malaysia) had decided to board her at a government clinic - Jabatan Haiwan Bukit Mertajam (JHBM), Penang.

Based on the clinic's promises to look after her, Naomi was left in its care. Four days later, when Raihana's family returned to collect her on 27th March, they were informed that she had died.

The family could not find out when exactly she had died, but Naomi was found lying in a very small cage, infested with flies and ants. Upon investigation, it was revealed that she had been locked in there since she was admitted, and had not been fed water or food the entire four days she was there.

JHBM officials refused to take responsibility and deflected the blame between each other, claiming each had thought the other would feed Naomi. But no one did.

Three months on, Raihana struggles to accept how Naomi has died, and she has desperately fought for justice over this unspeakable tragedy. She has made complaints to officials and their heads, including a letter she sent to Mr Mohd Radzuan bin Malek, Dept of Veterinary Services, Headquarters, Wisma Tani, Level 2, Podium Block 1A, Lot 4GI, Precient 4, Federal Government Administrative Centre, 62630 Putrajaya. She still awaits a reply to this day.

The death of Naomi was completely avoidable, and with one case of inexcusable human error being made public, who knows how many more animals have died or risk suffering and death under the careless hands that run JHBM.

I strongly urge for:

1) The Malaysian Department of Veterinary Services to conduct a thorough investigation into the case of the needless death by starvation of the feline patient, named Naomi, between 23rd March and 27th March 2006, at Jabatan Haiwan Bukit Mertajam (JHBM), Penang, Malaysia.

2) Immediate action to be taken against the individuals employed at JHBM, who were directly and indirectly involved and consequently responsible for the death of Naomi.

3) All animals under the care of JHBM from this day forth to be treated with adequate care and respect in a clean and healthy environment, in conjunction with universally stringent policies and regulations regarding hygiene and patient welfare that stand in any other animal hospital/clinic in the world. For JHBM employees to constantly monitor and ensure, to the best of their ability, the mental, emotional and physical well-being of their patients during their stay at the premises.

Sincerely yours,
-Name-
-IC Number (if applicable)-
-City/Country-

I will print out the letter for you and send it together with the petition list.

Hopefully together we'd be able to make a difference about the ignorance about animal abuse in Malaysia.

Thanks a ton people. Like, totally.

It's hard being a 'Tard

2006-06-13T10:04:00.000+08:00

If you have been awaiting my return to the blogosphere, I offer my sincerest apologies.

Absence should never be without reason, irrevelant of how exceptional.

(Us retards have special needs, donchano.)

Excuse 1: Graduation
For those aware of the misadventure of me enduring shabby communication and deflection of blame between multiple academic institutions who are involved in my course and inevitably my graduation, the worst is finally over. I attended the ceremony in May, where I got to wear an ill-fitting hat, sit in a row of what could have been my college friends if it weren't for an administrative slip-up, clap nonchalantly for two hours, and step up on stage and exude enthusiasm in receiving an empty scroll. Ah, such is the attainment of fulfilment. At least my parents were happy. And I managed to stuff my face with raisin rolls.

Hip freakin hooray.

Excuse 2: Work
My company brought in Grease The Musical in June and Cartoon Network Live! less than two weeks later. If you can imagine every aspect of work that ensures the success of two international large-scale stage productions back to back, and then split that amongst one managing director and three rookie chicks, you get ultimate chaos. Okay, maybe one notch above ultimate chaos. To come out of it unscathed would be a scandalous claim. But there were of course those rare times where I could step out of the box and see myself getting somewhere with the things I did. And getting a hug from Bubbles isn't such a bad reward either.

It's still the word, have you heard?

The Powerpuff plan to elude the overgrown babies failed miserably

Excuse 3: Rehearsals
Broken Bridges is going to be the biggest production that the Kuala Lumpur Performing Arts Centre would have ever put up to date. There are plans for the opening night to possibly double as the official launch of the venue as the founders have yet to hold one since its first year of operations. The pressure that's mounted on this project is, as you can see, naturally massive. The two methods of getting to Sentul is either hitching a ride with an ensemble mate and bracing the hour-long jam, or taking the train and a 15-minute walk which altogether totals to a similiar duration. I've been doing so every other evening (combine with Excuse 2 and lo and behold a very worrisome pair of parents) and starting from this weekend til showtime, it will be a daily affair. I've learned loads so far and my performance skills have made a noticeable improvement, but it's far from being a walk in the park. I've injured my leg twice and suffered a severe relapse of asthma since rehearsals commenced. Musical theatre is jolly good fun, but no joking matter.
On an incredible note, my director Joe Hasham has come across my account of the audition. I thought I was going to get emotionally flogged for my honesty. On the contrary, Joe loved it so much that he has requested to have the two parts published in Living Arts, a monthly newsletter by The Actors Studio. Joe, if you're reading this, this incident has not been of much assistance to me in the blushing department.

The melodies are memorable but murder to memorize.

Excuse 4: Movies
Promotion for The Flowers Beneath My Skin is finally kicking off. Think Online will be featuring an article on the movie soon, and I had a little chat with the editor Chris which brought back wierd and wonderful memories of the shoot. If I'm not mistaken, Think Online is also helping to organize the premiere at KLpac in July in conjunction with a showcase by Furniture, whose leadman provided the musical score. I've been informed however that KLPac is fully booked until the end of the year. We'll see how things go.
As for S'kali, an article by the Perantauan team and I has just been submitted to Vida! magazine, and an interview with the cast will be published the July issue of CinemaOnline. Also, the official website for S'kali is finally up and running. It's very much a no-frills hub for info, but features may be added on as it gets closer to opening date. There are a few screencaps for your viewing pleasure, and the 20 sec and 71 sec trailers are available for download. If you're curious as to why my face seems so strategically placed on almost every page, then yes, I paid the webmaster. In Sterling.

S'kali-wags & CinemaOnline mascot, Cinammon the sexy b*****d.

Retardation Nation should be back in working order for now. In the meantime, for those who may have a slight interest in my literary pursuits, the Inkyhands online mag has included one of my stories in its May issue. It's a relatively old piece, loosely based on a real experience which some of you may recall, that I decided could be put to some use at least.

With all this brouhaha going on, I must admit I'm not being much of a daughter, a buddy, nor a girlfriend. It's been tough to multi-task, but it's remarkable to know that those around me have the patience and understanding to allow me to do what I need to do at such a dire period that requires me to be calculative with the kilojoules I burn for meal time, rest time and potty time. I'm truly grateful. To those who know who you are: Bless your cotton socks.

Retarding

2006-05-11T22:25:00.000+08:00

Yeah, I was dreading that dreaded day too: when my blog would be left idle for a noticeable stretch of time.

The only way I have found the opportunity to type this entry is by being held back in the office until 10:30pm the night right before a public holiday, when the obligation to continue work the day after doesn't come as a jolt to the senses anymore.

Work has opened a can of whoop@$$ on me. It's probably going to be like this until another month or so. After which my 'other job' will intensify and start moving full steam ahead. So things will still be pretty hectic for a long while more, but at least the climax of my office life will be over by the middle of June.

So if you and I get to hold out til then, we'll all be just super.

I've been receiving some nice words about Retardation Nation from friends and strangers; it's all very humbling and I apologize for this temporary freeze. But when I do come back, I assure you it will be with a bang.

Take care and catch up with you in a bit.

Testing Wan, To, Pee (Part 2)

2006-04-21T21:18:00.000+08:00

That familiar feeling of anxiety hit me as I looked up at the architectural piece of grandeur. After been left stranded at the Sentul KTM station for a significant enough time due to the sort of Malaysians that do not comply to the selfless joy of waiting in line for a cab, the restless feeling of unpreparedness and tardiness was at an all-time high.

But at last I was here. I ran up to the third floor of the KL Performing Arts Centre, towards the steady thumping of a muffled song. I turned to my right at the top of the staits and pushed a heavy door into a wide open space. Pat the choreographer was in the centre of the room and facing the mirrored wall to my right, surrounded by several burly men trying their best to imitate her moves to raw, synthesized beats. Behind me, a handful of girls lined the wall, fervently analyzing loose pages of script. To my left, seated in the same manner as they were on audition day, were the playwrights, director Joe and his wife Faridah.

I tiptoed over to their table and apologized for my delayed arrival. Faridah smiled the smile that could end all wars. Joe passed me a few script sheets and I joined the other girls by the wall. The one next to me introduced herself to me as Rachel, a modest bespectacled young lady. I looked over her shoulder at the one woman whom I had expected as classic competition: the one with the fairness of white bone china, the hair of a silken black waterfall, the smile of virginal innocence, the grace of the penultimate oriental princess.

Naturally, she snubbed my lowly presence.

Rachel said I missed out on a bit of choreography earlier, but Pat ran through the moves with me again and the other girls joined in. Padding circles on the floor with chinese fans fluttering in our right hands, we were to epitomize the chicks of the cheongsam. Initially I was a little clumsy with the fan and the swaying of my hips, but I got the hang of both after a few more tries. We then did a dance together with the men, a cultural-style dance to an upbeat number, complete with flowing fingers which my rusty joints found a little extreme to emulate.

"For the girls trying out for the role of Mei Ling, please come to the keyboard," Joe then announced. Four of us stepped forward.

Jan the pianist was ready at her keyboard in a corner of the room, and Joe distributed some music score sheets, samples from two songs written for the musical. "Can you all read music?" Joe asked. The three other girls responded gleefully as my face drained itself of all color. "Don't worry, you'll pick up the tunes as we go along," Joe assured me. Jan ran through the tunes one or twice, and we were to follow: twice altogether, then one by one. I was only vaguely familiar with the lines and dots dancing across the paper, a distant memory of my nimble-fingered years on the piano.

Rachel sang like a nightingale.

The oriental princess sang with a voice caught on a summer breeze.

The third girl placed her score sheet down, closed her eyes, and sang as though she had burst into a Sarah Brightman number the moment she popped out of her mother's womb.

It was then it was the retard's turn: the only one who, of all the luck bestowed upon her, had obviously no form of vocal training whatsoever. I opened my mouth and my vocal box grated itself against the back of my neck. I tripped over my words. I was done for.

"Davina, can you try it again please?" Joe asked politely.

I did so, and the wonderful man nodded with sufficient-enough approval.

The final session was the line-reading with the other actors. "Oh my god, my pronounciation is so bad! I don't think I'll do well..." Rachel lamented in a panicky whisper. I rubbed her shoulder to calm her down as the first girl ran through the lines together with Kopitiam actor Douglas Lim, who portrayed the main protagonist. She was confident, her local Chinese accent permeating her watery voice like a potent teabag. Princess was up next. She spoke slowly and clearly, if not softly. Rachel then took a meek step forward. Her lips were cautious, her voice uncertain, but there was an audible strain of elegance. I was the last to go. One of the excerpts was the same one given to me for the audition, except now it felt more relieving to be interacting with the actual character. My stomach squeezed the space out of my lungs as I spoke in the moment of zest.

And then it was finally over.

Joe sighed and said he had a lot of thinking to do, which he had to do quickly so as to inform of us of our luck, or lack of it, to participate in rehearsals next month. He thanked us all and we were dismissed, the sparks of silent rivalry made apparent in the steely goodbyes as we left the building.

I received a call less than two weeks later.

"Hello Davina, this is Faridah."

My brain took a while to shake itself out of weekday afternoon mundanity.

"...OH! Faridah! Hi!"

"Davina, Davina, Davina. The trouble you put us through..." She chortled dryly before continuing. "Davina, we have thought a LOT about our final decision, and we thought you would be great for the lead female role..."

Oh my gosh. What an honor. It would be my pleasure, Ms. Merican. I don't know how the heck I'm going to handle it but by golly gee there is no way in hell that I shall intend to dissappoint you.

"BUT! But... But."

Oh, that's fine Ms. Merican, ma'am. It was an honor to be even considered. Thank you so very kindly. Getting as far as I did was more than I could ever ask for and I shall definitely continue striving for higher heights.

"We have decided to put you into the chorus group instead."

"...The... chorus group?"

"The ensemble. Consisting of ten men and ten women. You're very pretty, and you move well too, so we think you'd be great."

I deposited an unexpected pause.

"Can I get back to you in a day?"

"Sure, just email me by tomorrow then. If not, then we'll just move on to the next person..."

For the past few weeks I had geared myself up in 'all or nothing' mode, so to settle for something in between was a command too imcompatible to mentally compute. I plummeted down a well of dissapointment and self-pity, my ego dropping to the floor and kicking itself round in circles like a spoiled child.

I was so close.

I slept with a smattering of dread in five-minute intervals. Sacrificing a third of my year to offering minimal services to a production, cumulative days of waiting at the train stations and taxi stands, spending countless evenings pouring my prized energy into a forgettable cameo, at the expense of my health, my job, my social life and ultimately my sanity... was it going to be worth it?

I opened my eyes groggily the next morning, turned on my phone and opened a new text response to my dilemma:

Honey, you may know your body's limits, but you wouldn't know if you'd be able to cope until you've given it a shot. What's really crucial right now, is to ask yourself if this is one break you've been longing for in your pursuit to perform. However little your role might be, you're still working with the best show directors in the country - and people of their calibre, always take the smallest things seriously. Who knows dear, they might discover your capabilities in a different light. But you have to try at least.

That familiar feeling of anxiety hit me as I looked up from my monitor screen to see my boss stride into her room this afternoon. I thought of Angeline's words of love, took a deep breath, knocked on my boss's door, and prepared myself for a serious case of déjà vu.

Testing Wan, To, Pee (Part 1)

2006-03-31T18:08:00.000+08:00

"You cow! Don't do this to me!"

"I'm sorry! I just know I can't do it!"

The heated conversation had to be carried out in a hushed tone outside the audition room. The girl inside had obviously had vocal training, as she twirled around the notes like a pen guided into cursive on lace-embossed paper. All the while Angeline had been anxiously keeping her eyes fixated through the glass panels, on the five judges lining the back of the room. It was unfortunate for her, and consequently me, that the hopefuls before us posed as horribly good competition. Angeline and I were laborious sisters of the art. Through triumph and suffering, I thought we would go through it together. She suddenly left me high and dry, shivering in the desolate cold of a simulated winter.

I didn't dare look inside, for fear that intimidation of trying out for the first time for a musical production would get the better of me too. I had to stay strong. I had to do it for Angie if not for me, and I did not want the trip to Sentul be in vain.

"Don't worry, it's not the first time she's pulled out of an audition at the last minute," Angeline's boyfriend, and designated driver for the evening, assured me.

It's been a while since my last theatre audition, where I was sworn at and casually dismissed by the director as a result of my session slotted in at the end of a presumably long, rough day, and also for me not being suited for any particular role unless I could pull off the portrayal of a 13-year old boy.

The nightingale left the audition room with a geeky grin and the next candidate entered, putting me next in line. I poked and pleaded, but Angeline was not budging. It was clear her decision was final. My growing jitters weren't being any less soothed by the over-achieving air conditioner, neither by the sudden sonic booms from the PA system every five minutes, politely ordering patrons to get their fashionably late derrières into the theatre before the doors close for the next stage performance.

Time had flown too fast for me to gather my wits to a sensible level as I watched the last person leave the room. I saw the tea lady enter with drinks for the judges, and motioned me in once she emptied her tray.

I took off my shoes, held my breath and opened the door. I walked into a bubble of comfort - it was heaps warmer in here, and for some reason, the judges did not look like judges anymore... just a bunch of people sitting at a table.

I was offered the chair placed directly in front of Joe Hasham. THE Joe Hasham. Also known as The Real Deal. The Head Honcho. The Big Kahuna. I grew up listening to his voiceovers while I was still an introverted little runt in a quiet Western Australian suburb. I have grown up with a desire to be introduced to him, and now that the opportunity was literally in my face, I was too dumbstruck to even remember what I was doing there. Had Faridah Merican not left the room for a breather, I would have by now soiled my knickers.

Joe the director was seated between the choreographer and two writers of the play. He gave me a firm handshake and introduced himself and his team, his black beady eyes providing a stark contrast to his pepper grey hair. "You are Davina, yes?" he asked in his voice of bottomless depth.

"Yes I am..."

"Davina... Davina. Hmmm. That's such a lovely name. Is that your given name? Where did it come from?"

Before I could go into my hackneyed explanation about how my mother borrowed it from Prince Charles's ex-girlfriend while she was living in London with my father all those years ago, he asked me if I have a Chinese name.

"I do... Mei Pin... Although I don't usually go by it."

"Mei Pin. Goh Mei Pin... What a beautiful name!"

Not only had I finally formally met Joe Hasham, he liked my name too. I hugged the clouds in my head. I felt the love.

He brought up my occupation as Assistant Events Manager.

"In such a field, there may often be times where you are required to work overtime. What would you do in the 'what if' situation that you being held back at work, but still have a rehearsal to go to?"

"Well, my boss has previously let me take leave for two weeks to shoot a movie..."

"But this isn't two weeks. This is four months."

I stuttered and spluttered.

"Okay, don't worry about that just yet. We'll start worrying about it if it does happen. You have a song prepared for us?"

I was not prepared but I did have a song, a blues number called Black Coffee which I sang once at a college prom night. I stood up and started singing in a voice which I did not recognize. My diaphragm had crept up to my throat without sufficient warning. I made Lindsay Lohan seem like a Grammy frontrunner.

Thankfully for me and my audience, Joe halted me before I got to the 'big' notes and instructed me to head over to the back of the room, where Jan the pianist was seated at a keyboard. She ran through some scales for me to orally mimic. There were some tricky parts to follow and my voice cracked at some points, but Jan assured me that she only wanted to test my range.

"Does she have an ear?" Joe asked.

"Yes, she does," replied Jan.

He noted it down, and I hugged another cloud.

Pat the choreographer then rose. "Do you dance?" she inquired.

Can I dance? Heck, I put on my boogie shoes with KC and The Sunshine band every Wednesday night.

"Have you done ballet before?"

...Oh.

"I haven't been professionally trained in anything, but I've done pop and hip hop stuff before..."

"Okay, can you show off some of your stuff to us?"

I wish I had responded negatively to her first question so she could have at least shown me her own moves for me to follow, just like she did with the candidates before me. Alas, with me thinking that I am superbly multi-talented, Jan popped a CD in the player and played a song that evoked images of cute furry animals getting high on Kool-Aid. I performed an abstract dance of cute furry animals getting high on Kool-Aid.

Pat then showed me a move: two steps outward, then two steps back in. It looked easy enough, until she quickened the pace to the point where her legs were a blur. She suddenly stopped, and me a second later.

"Can we brush her up?" Joe asked.

"Yeah, I think we can." Pat replied. And a cloud came around to give me a pat on the head.

I sat back down and Joe pulled out a script. This was wierd, seeing that the other candidates before me left promptly after the choreography segment. "I would like you to read the part of Mei Ling. Just take a look at this part and start when you're ready."

I was halfway through until Joe told me to stop, and start again standing up. I read out the lines without knowing what I was talking about until I was done uttering them. From what I could gather, it was basically dialogue that made the character sound like a intelligent woman who was incidentally reading an intelligent book.

Joe thanked me after I was done. "You have a very good voice. Your expression is very good." I was alarmed at his observation, but nevertheless gave low fives to all my homie clouds in front row.

I sat back down. "Your acting is good, your dancing is ok. Your singing voice... Meeeehhhh..." He scrunched his face up and waved the 'so-so' gesture. I laughed and admitted that I still needed a lot of work in that department.

"We'll be having call backs soon, so we will contact you if you're selected for that..." I nodded like a shy schoolgirl.

"...But I think you might have to have a talk with your boss, because I would like to call you back."

My clouds rewound the tape and played it back to make sure they heard it right.

"I would like to call you back."

Joe Hasham would like to call me back for a Malaysian musical which he is directing.

My face was the emoticon of WTF.

I stumbled out of the room, collected my shoes and collapsed on the floor with my feet in the air. Angeline and her boyfriend picked me up and escorted me out: an overwhelmed, wheezing wreck. I was a piece of yellow paper short of going to Hollywood.

I thought my days of employee anxiety were long over, and then I had to be a wise@$$ and put myself in the predicament again. How I would explain to my boss that I wouldn't be able to stay back late? How would I get myself to KLPac for rehearsals? How would I be able to see my family, mates and boyfriend without looking like a POW?

I guess Joe was right, I should just chuck my eggs back into the basket and wait. And even if I don't get it, I'll be glad that a six-year stage hiatus didn't keep me from trying my best.

And as icing on the cake, my name rocks and I didn't even know it.

Fuelish

2006-03-16T18:07:00.000+08:00

I was lazy to do it this time but I relented. Mom parked by the pump and I pulled out my wallet as I stepped out of the car. I hated the fumes. They gave me a headache.

Slipping three crisp RM10 notes through the plexiglass opening, onto the aluminium tray and into the hands of the cashier lady, I get transported back to the Grade 1 classroom of Noranda Primary School, when I am given a piece of purple-ink photocopied paper with identifiable-enough sketches of things that emit a scent. Put a tick next to the things that smell nice, the instructions read. I saw the picture of a gas pump. I left it blank. I saw a picture of a garbage dump. I left it blank too. Then I saw the picture of an insecticide aerosol can. Hey, now we're talking...

As I walked back to the car, the memory reinforced my history of aversion to the nauseating toxin (as in gasoline, not insecticide. Insecticide still kicks @$$). Even Harry Potter uses it in wizardry warfare.

"EXPECT SOME PETROLEEAAAAHHHM!" I hear him cry out in the trailer for the Prisoner of Azkaban. (It sounded something more like 'Expecto Patronum', but when in a life-or-death scenario, pronounciation isn't too high on the priority list.)

Unscrewing the cap where the liquid of all evils was contained and hauling the injection pump out of its storage latch, I inhaled one last breath to hopefully last me through the fill-up.

A timid forefinger pressed on the trigger, and the pump jerked as a surge of fuel shot through in a fit of mechanical rage.

I watched my mom in the driver's seat, bopping her head contentedly to a pinch of overplayed radio candy. Ignorant fool, I thought. To leave me alone, risking life and limb in a sensory numbing environment, should a careless smoker toss a stub in my direction while I stand around oblivious to a gas leak sneaking up on my toes. Or should a careless executive take a call on his cellular phone from a managing director whose capitalistic life wouldn't be too affected by the fatal explosion at a gas station miles away from the safe confines of his mansion downtown.

It was at this thought when I realised that my lungs were beginning to give in to the pressure of air fighting to escape. I looked at the meter - only halfway through. There was no way my breath would hold for the rest of it. I let it out in spurts, thinking of the paracetamol overdose I would probably be indulging in after this monstrous olfactory encounter.

I ran out of breath. I released my ribcage.

I found out that at the exact moment I did so, an overbearing waft of fumes had already crept out of the fuel tank and had been fervently waiting to rape my defenseless nostrils.

It entered, filling my head with the suffocating wrath of flammable hydrocarbons.

It was full of horror. Of despair. Of a thousand lifetimes of human suffering. Of the Numa Numa song and For Love Or Money reruns.

...Then indifference.

Then adaptation.

Then playgrounds. And dandelions. And Kristin Kreuk in a vat of melted chocolate.

A smile crept up on my lips and from them, the universal expression of peace and eternal love oozed out.

"Whazaaaaaaaaaap..."

I finished pumping, slowly opened the car door and collapsed into the passenger seat. I didn't want to talk. Or move. All I wanted to do was smile and make love to the birds and the bees. Life was da shiznit.

My mother shifted nervously in her seat.

"You know, I forgot to turn off the engine..."

"YOU WHAT?!?"

My hippie persona was bludgeoned to death on the spot and life shifted itself back to its state of greasy food, lack of exercise and decay of responsibility.

At least I was alive, and the tank was full.

Civil duty

2006-03-09T09:10:00.000+08:00

Some of you are already familiar with my previous post which has provoked the following comment. I deleted the message, firstly because it was not in relation to the post and secondly, because I didn't want to let things get personal on my blog. But the intention of that person was to make his or her comment public, and I shan't deny such a privilege.

Plus, the attempt to clarify may culminate into a round of mud-wrestling, and I'm always up for that.

I present to you, unabashedly, the latest comment in my blog. Unedited.

anonymous said...

Re: April 2005 post

Perhaps you forgot to mention in your one-sided story to the masses what you did in the days just before you and him got together?

Does making out with a certain guy from college in his car ring a bell?
And being caught doing it too. And you knew R really cared a lot for you then.

What about when you walked to his house in the rain to apologise for that?

His heart was broken, but yet he let you back in.

Nah, it probably got lost somewhere in your post - when you found out that he did the same thing to you.

It is always easy to say you were the victim, and all humans can easily fall into that trap - after all, we are only human.

But think again in those 'rough' months you mentioned. You scolded him for calling you when you were at work. And after he learned not to interrupt you during work hours, you were still annoyed at him eventhough he tried to time his one call per day to you at lunchtime. Just to find out how you were doing.

You asked him to count how many times he swore a day and report it to you.

Through all this, he would still pick you up almost everyday from work in a means to ease your family's burden. He also tried to see you for lunch everyday. He tried his best to pamper you but was met with stony if not stubborn resistance.

He put up with your mother's incessant insults to him and your family's refusal to accept his existence.

He also, at any point, never forced himself on you to have sex because he respected your beliefs.

I speak on behalf of him as a good friend who has known him for a long time and also because it was your friend who 'heard' he cheated on you. I am also familiar with this because he confided in me a lot. I told him about your blog entry and he said it sounded 'one-sided' and that was all. He did not want to react or even read it because he said it was over but I'm choosing to set some things straight.

He will never deny that he cheated on you. He admits it but not proudly. If it is any consolation - he ended it with that girl before he ended it with you.

He knew he was wrong for the same reasons you knew you were wrong when you were hanging/making out with that guy. That people should not look to another just because they can't get the correct kind of attention they need.

He will also never deny that he loved you with all his heart and soul but was met with disappointment. He felt you distanced yourself from him when you started working and put him much lower on your priority list. He tried for more than three months to stick it out, but in the end got confused (cheated) and lost patience (ended it with you) because it didn't look like you were trying very hard.

I have no sympathy for him or you - that you must understand. He already paid the price before he went steady with you.

Karma's already gone one full circle. You were the one who started it.

My turn.

I played with his heart, and he found out.
I came back to him and redeemed myself by giving him mine.
End of one karma cycle.

Yes, I made out with a guy. It's a mistake, which on my behalf, I have wholeheartedly accepted. See, the reason why I strayed was because he was not giving me space even before we got together. I knew R cared for me a lot yes, and I did too, but he was already starting to show signs of insecurities. I didn't know him well enough at that time to understand him. I stayed by his side because I didn't want to lose him as a friend, which lead to his feelings intensifying. I was scared and confused, and I sought refuge with a friend, whom I ended up caring for too. The reason why this was not mentioned in my post is because but this chapter was a book on its own. It is a story which, if I'm not mistaken, was even made into a highly-acclaimed descriptive piece which, upon the lecturer's request, was read out aloud by the author himself in front of a Feature Writing class in college. Although there was no reference to me whatsoever, his audience did the math and it has gotten people talking about me to this day. Nevertheless, I'm not ashamed of being human, and I have learned my lesson well.

Let's remind ourselves about the gist: I let him into my life. He let me into mine. Fair trade.

The irony in the situation is that the one person who taught me and demonstrated the greatness of commitment was the same person who pulled the rug from under my feet.

Priorities change as one goes through the different stages in life. From seeing a guy 24/7 to being thrown into an environment where deadlines rule and employers oppress, it's hard to devote whatever is left of your energy to friends, family, and love, let alone keep a cool head at the office. I'm sure you are familiar with the scenario. But it was a first for me, as well as it was for him.

As for the way I was, being uptight, I come from a background that has built itself on very staunch, traditional beliefs. His life was spent on another side of the spectrum. It didn't help that we entered the relationship with naïve impression of the mechanics behind it - after all, it was the first for both of us. Our personalities clicked like chalk and cheese. Our respective habitual and behavioral nature were constantly at each other's throats. Understanding and helping with each other's shortcomings, as well as the inevitable act of compromise, was always a challenge. I also abhorred the way my family treated him. My folks indeed have had a reputation for being ludicrously unmerciful to all who get close to me, but it was futile to deny their influence on my life as a daughter. I was torn between taking their advice 'for my own good', and accepting him for the way he was. He and I, and everyone around us, knew that we were both so different from each other, and some days were massively hard to cope with, but we stayed on hoping that something good will come from it.

I was the only person at that point of his life who took the trouble to see him as more than what people saw him as. And I was glad I was there for him when he had no-one else to turn to. I stayed on when I was the easiest target for his frustrations and bouts of hopelessness, despite my friends convincing me that it wasn't worth it.

Unfortunately, the toxic clash of values and beliefs, infused with a conflict between loyalty to family and love for him, persisted at the expense of our relationship. And it ended on extremely mutual terms.

He asked me to promise him to keep in touch. I did, and he didn't. I eventually gave up. I don't blame him though. Some people are not strong enough to build back a friendship after a painful history. I went on with my life for one year, not knowing that one thing that was made so inconspicuous from my vision. But now that it is out in the open, I don't seek revenge or ill-will on him. It was he who told me that people don't do bad things for no reason, and I can sincerely say I know that reason. All is forgiven but never forgotten. However, I do speak fondly of him whenever his name is brought up. He's a great guy, and I do wonder from time to time how he is doing with his new girlfriend. But my biggest hopes for him is that he has learnt from the love we had, because I definitely have, and for that I am grateful. I have accepted the fact that I do have my flaws and if you follow my blog, you will come to know that I am still humbly learning how to cope with them.

In fact, this confrontation has given me the impression that he has grown from our relationship too. The fact that you have posted up this very comment, valiantly defending him for the person he his and attacking someone who affected his life profoundly in the past, is a natural response from someone who is loved and treated right. Suffice to say that I am proud.

As you would have noticed by now, I am replying under the assumption that you are indeed his girlfriend. And if you are: From the deepest, warmest part of my heart, I wish you guys the best, may you grow with each other and keep each other safe and blissful.

...But there was never a need for you to set things straight, my dear. I was there when it all happened.

The De-scent

2006-03-01T17:24:00.000+08:00

I recieved an invitation from Alan, a friend from Raleigh International, to join a cave exploration to Batu Caves, an outing organized by the Malaysian Nature Society. When you're stuck doing nine to six and the last definition of dirt you had was the delicate hand lotion-y fingerprint blurring your bespectacled vision, you know it's about time to get out there and start remembering how life is meant to be lived.

As advised, I pack my extra set of clothes, water bottle, torchlight and resignedly mandatory inhaler, and head off for some Saturday morning madness.

My long overdue re-acquiantance with Batu Caves is emphasized by my memory of the steps being a lot bigger than they were the last time I visited.

Entrance to the Temple Cave

A total of 272 steps: making athletes out of Hindu devotees for over a century.

The world's tallest statue of Lord Murugan, standing at 140 feet. I am unaware that it was unveiled just weeks before.

Contemplative macaque monkey.

Our trip focuses on scouring the Dark Cave, a restricted access area.

We are led into the cave by a few members of MNS, including Darren, who works full-time in a bank and moonlights as a spelunker. I take a perverse liking to his shin pads.

There is another woman decked out in hardcore caving gear. I think it was quite nifty that her helmet had 'MINER' labelled on the side. That is before I hear her name being really called out as Min Er.

Cave dogs possess some of the sexiest bodies in existence.

The guides lead the 25 participants into the cave, the screeching of bats omnipresent. We step into soft ground. I reach down to run the feathery texture through my fingers. "What you are stepping on is guano - bat poo - and it's highly sought after as fertilizer," I then hear Darren explain. I stiffen while the other participants giggle over my head.

We are split into small groups and probe deeper into the caverns until we are in complete darkness. We trudge along stone pathways, and I turn my torchlight to the floor to see hundreds of small cockroaches scrambling for their lives. It is inevitable to avoid all of them. I cringe partially out of critter-loving compassion, partially out of a slight case of heebie jeebies.

Our group leader Darren shows us around with the deftness of a real estate agent pitching the latest innovations in natural property development. He warns us not to touch any formations, no matter how intruiging, as human intervention has led to the disentigration of many promising masterpieces.

Stalagmite in the making.

Stone formation

Temptations run high in my fingernails.

Malaysian crystal, apparently worth jack.

There are some chambers that are rich in silence, and Darren sits us down for a little 'meditation' break. We switch off all our torchlights and stay completely silent for a few minutes, the energy encircling us making our ears ring.

We move on into a few more small cavities, signatures of past explorers etched into the walls. I even see messages dating back as far as the 1940s, when according to Darren, the caverns were used as training ground for communists.

Even the darkest corners of the earth are not spared from the art of vandalism.

Jaws of the abyss

The one they call 'Little John', explanation unnecessary.

A gour pool

The antithesis of artificial intelligence.

We reach a resting point, above us a large crevice allows a hint of sunlight in to bathe us in color again. We take a quick breather and leave our bags and cameras here... No more tourist-friendly terrain from here on in.

Take me to your leader

We enter a gargantuan chamber, where we hear the distant roar of a waterfall. We are lucky enough to encounter a 2-metre long cave racer snake, stretching itself languidly atop a large rock at a safe distance from us. It is here that we also see cave centipedes scuttling across the walls on their legs of threateningly sensuous length.

The roar grows in resonance as we walk further in. The ground is a bright orange goo. A soft breeze teases the fine hairs on our arms; the air is soaked with the acrid stench of burnt plastic. Darren does the silence test again. Torchlights are switched off and mouths are zipped shut. I suddenly start feeling a little edgy.

Darren turns on his head torch and I cower at the mass of flying mammals darting just a few feet above our heads. There are bats by the thousands. The stench is the guano. The roar is the flapping of their wings. The wind is from the same source. The asthmatic in me writhes in intolerable pain.

We leave the chamber and follow Darren until we reach a part that narrows itself into a dank tunnel.

"Ah, it's a good thing it's a wet day," Darren quips as he crouches down and pats the ochre puddles at his feet. "Who's first?"

Being the macho retard I am, I step forward and follow him in. My hands and knees sink into craggy wetness. The walls close in, and a shiver rushes down my legs as I my belly embraces cold mud. There is a tight spot ahead, and I see Darren already having difficulty squeezing his large frame through the uninviting cranny. Then it's my turn. There is no space to keep my eyes ahead. I look down, angle my head to fit the shape of the fissure, and use my toes, hips and elbows to inch myself through.

After three more hours of crawling, climbing, wading, slipping, sliding and unfathomable filth, the blanket of pitch black ahead of us is eventually torn apart with a ray of dappled light, and we end up back at the same point where we left our bags. We emerge from the cave looking like a band of thieves, top to toe in gravy of questionable origin. I have never felt more at home.

I look relatively clean as my tee is black and my cargos are the same color as the mud.

The MNS guys congratulate us on a job well done and inform us of their future caving expeditions around Malaysia.

Alan, Mr. Whatshisname, K.K. and Min Er.

It's time to wash up and head home.

Unfortunately, I do not live up to the physical prerequisites of the female restroom.

I travel home with the disposition of an invalid. I try hand-washing my soiled clothes, and by the seventh pail the water still runs opaque brown so I surrender them to the washing machine. The day is still young, and I utilize it to its optimum extent by switching off my phone and hitting the pillows.

But not before I leave on the porch table a little memento which my father's plants will worship me for.

I admit, I fancy any excuse to play with muck for all its worth.

S'tars

2006-02-22T15:45:00.000+08:00

I recieved a text message first thing this morning from my cast mate Zimy, which read:

"MY FRIEND SAID WE'RE IN THE STAR TODAY!"

Within minutes, I had spread the word to my other castmates. I'm normally extremely apologetic when I wake people up from their slumber and beg them in a baby voice to try to go back to sleep after they hang up, but today I was a ruthless b*stard.

S'kali The Movie has hit the press for the first time today in The Star newspaper. It was supposed to adorn the front cover of the lifestyle pullout, but people who do silly card tricks on the street are apparently more important than THE BEST MOVIE EVER MADE.

The article was well-written; it focused on our director, Arivind, the founding of Perantauan Pictures and the process of initiating its first business venture.

There was a little sub-story on the cast. The picture that came out was great... but I noticed that it went through some tweaking before it reached the ever-scrutinizing eyes of the public. This is the heavily edited picture of five decent-looking individuals doing the chummy-wummy pose.

But I present to you the whole truth, and oh, how the angels weep.

The teaser poster has just come out too. The marketing team came up with the ingenius idea of leaving my tragic mug out of the picture, unfortunately sacrificing the marketable faces of those blessed with illegally good genes.

Alas, the essence of mankind's survival is to choose the greater good.

Utterly Factual Obsession

2006-02-10T17:43:00.000+08:00

My old schoolmate Kristin was hosting a little "Roll Your Own Sushi" party at her house. It was an evening of nostalgia as we tuned into Boyz II Men classics and laughed about imfamous classroom capers, as we stuffed our faces with Yee Sang and makeshift California Rolls.

At around midnight, we decided to call it a night and the five of us made our way out to Kristin's front gate.

Then one of my friends pointed something out in the sky.

I looked up at the abnormal constellation. The three miniscule orbs were of equal distance apart from each other, forming a perfect inverted triangle. They blinked red, then white, then red again...

These were stars.
Yeah, and my farts smell like roses.

My friends erupted into chipmunkish chatter. Meanwhile, the concept of speech and logic in general eluded me. I stood there, eyes widened to their limit, jaw loose and hanging. Cloak me in blood, dirt and Salvation Army rags and I would have easily passed off as a member of the undead gazing at sky flowers.

"Try taking pictures!" Ashvin called out to me.

Switching to paparazzi mode, I grabbed the gizmo hanging from my neck and started snapping.

Can you see it? CAN YOU SEE IT?!?!?!

(Don't worry, I can't either.)

I gave up shortly after realizing that the lights were too far away to capture on my lens, and slipped back into my undead state.

The orbs remained perfectly still, until the one on the right started shifting slowly to the left.

And then the left orb started shifting slowly to the right.

Until all three formed a perfect vertical line.

Half a minute later, they retreated behind the clouds, and dimmed out into nothingness.

It was the stuff Mulder's wet dreams were made of.

I called up my boyfriend on the spot, who didn't sound very amused with my incoherent babbling about the prospect of aliens taking over the planet.

"Are you sure it's not just a festival going on? Because I'm seeing fireworks going off all over town from my balcony..."

I refused to consider the possibility. After settling down slightly, we shared hugs and walked to our respective cars, feeling awkwardly lucky to bear witness to the thermospheric spectacle. I was hitching a ride with Helina, who was dropping Anastacia off home first. We drove deep into the Mont Kiara area, when we were met with the sight of the century.

Infiltrating the ozone were the lights again. They blinked red, then white, then red again...

The sky went 'War of the Worlds' all over our quivering @$$es.

The orbs were EVERYWHERE.

We pulled the car over and got out, the three of us cursing in hysteria.

And then Helina noticed something...

The lights were moving in the same direction the clouds were.

They were floating with the winds. And the inconsistent amber glow they possessed made it seem they were set alight from inside.

"... I think they're just lanterns, man!" Anastacia hollered, a mixed strain of relief and disappointment in her voice.

I checked the news the following morning, and sure enough, my boyfriend's suspicions were proven right. I'm not sure how the lanterns are made lighter than air and set aloft, or if what we saw was linked to the Hokkien festival, but it all made such boring sense. Damn that Jade Emperor. UFOs are way cooler.

Admittedly, I am still adamant about believing the alternate truth. For one, the orbs we saw were emanating light strong enough to pierce through the clouds. At some points they were completely stationary. And to further support our valid bemusement, one moved in the opposite direction of the winds. Lanterns just don't do that stuff.

Unless there were aliens *inside* the lanterns...

Now THAT would rock.

Re-generation

2006-02-03T17:41:00.000+08:00

Celebrating Chinese New Year with my mother's side is unfortunately not as heartwarming an event as it could be. With visits from relatives being inconsistent each year, and English not being the shared language for conversation, it's been difficult to feel a bond with my aunts, uncles and cousins.

One person I've been feeling particularly sore about in this situation is my grandmother. She is a small woman with a big voice that she is not afraid to use. But during moments of precious family time, she is more often than not seen cradled delicately in her rocking chair in the middle of the living room, either watching television, or having her head tucked into her chest, caught up in an enviously engaging snooze.

Only recently have I realized that there's got to be more to her than that. How to get past it was the challenge.

So this year, after the climax of dinner, with only my mother and her mother left at the table, I look across the table and ask sheepishly, "Mom, did Poh Poh ever get the pressure of getting her feet bound when she was younger?"

"Ask her yourself, she's here in front of you! Practice your Malay."

Grandma slowly turns her weathered face to me, her curious eyes snatching mine and holding me still. I shoot a desperate glance at my mother who makes it clear that I’m on my own.

"Poh Poh? Uh... dulu... uh... aku… oh wait, is it kalau? KALAU! Ya. Okay. Kalau... mesti... crap, what is tie in Malay? Tali? Um, kaki is leg right? What's the word for foot? Or can kaki be used for both?... Oh gosh. Poh Poh? Dulu, kau, mesti, tali, kaki?"

Grandma can only frown at the desolate state of affairs.

Mom finally butts in out of compassion, and asks the same question in Hokkien.

Grandma props herself out of a hunch and says no. She did not grow up in that era.

And the topic ends. I comfort myself knowing that I made the effort to try.

Mom then says, "You know, you should be asking her about the Japanese occupation instead..."

Finally feeling a bit more merciful for her anguished daughter, she initiates the topic and takes on the role of avid interpreter. I fuel the conversation with incessant interrogation. From daughter, to mother, to mother; a reply back to daughter, and daughter again.

Grandma's face continues to brighten, her raspy voice continues to swell, a new energy surges through her. She narrates her experience of youth with inflections of excitement rolling off her tongue and across the table, over the remnants of homemade dishes of a wonderfully indistinguishable nature.

The only child to a single mother, Poh Poh remembers the both of them taking refuge in the jungles of Tampin away from the Japanese soldiers, with foliage so thick that she could never see the sun. How it struck her that during the day, the owls in the trees would stare at her with eyes the size of saucers and yet never fly away.

I then hear about Poh Poh and her mother being taken away by a good samaritan from an abusive man one night when she was seven years old. How when they were on the run, there was a trail of huge black ants which she was terrified of stepping over, and her mother coaxing her on.

Poh Poh poignantly recounts the time when one of the men who fell in love with her mother was accused of being a gangster from China; she overheard his last conversation with her the night before he was to be deported. How she knew that he was innocent and full of good intentions and crouched into to a corner of the house and cried.

Then Grandma suddenly stops herself. She confesses that she has never talked about her life like this until tonight. Mom jokes to her that all these stories can be compiled into a movie. Grandma laughs. And in this moment, I feel like the luckiest person in the world.

Prince

2006-01-27T18:19:00.001+08:00

I usually prefer my blog to be tag-free, but when Midnite Lily passed this particular baton over, despite me revealing a similar set of answers in a previous post, I found it too ironic to not consider.

The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover/partner. Need to mention the sex of the target. Tag 8 victims to join this game and leave a comment on their comments saying they've been tagged. if tagged the 2nd time, there's no need to post again.

Target of perfect partner: Male (for the most part)

My perfect partner is:
1. Tolerant
2. Compromising
3. Floppy-fringed (I thought I grew out of this but I was proven wrong)
4. Respectful to music
5. A logical thinker
6. A hopeless dreamer
7. A best friend
8. Willing to explain to me, scene by scene, what is happening in a movie that surpasses my realms of comprehension

Anyone who wants to get tagged, please be my guest. (I'm too lazy to run, and too unfit to catch up on anyone.)

The irony in this is that I received this tag the same day we decided we were ready to take the next step. It will be my second relationship after 20 months of self-reliant comedy, drama, action and suspense. I'm glad we took our time. He's given me a fresh new reason to grab a bad day by the balls and say "Screw you, I'm happy."

Happy being deceptively understated, of course. Now bring it.

A day that will live in infamy

2006-01-25T12:21:00.000+08:00

When "It's a wrap!" was said for the last time, the cast and crew drowned in a flood of emotions. It was particularly overwhelming for those whom had been with the project from the very beginning, like Arivind who wrote and directed, and his friend Bahir who was the production manager/associate producer. They were dazed and knackered, but you could see they were bathing in silent bliss.

January 22nd is a date that holds fond memories. Not only did it mark the final day of the shoot of S'kali, but it also found me on the performance stage of a certain band whom, next to The Beatles, has affected my life on a fairly substantial level.

Jamiroquai has helped me understand the joys of musical obsession. I started out relatively late, with an appreciation for their work only surfacing in late 1999. But I caught on quick. My fondness for the funk in Synkronized lead me to trace back their beginnings, and the moment I read vocalist Jay Kay's idealistic rant in the CD inlay of Emergency On Planet Earth and felt the earthy vibe of the didgeridoo, I knew our affair was set in stone.

A few years had barely passed, but by the time news had broke about the inclusion of Singapore in their Funk Odyssey tour, I was a soul-starved gremlin.

Exactly four years after, I would have never expected yet another dream fulfilled.

I'll be putting up posts in the S'kali Production blog soon. In the meantime, if I haven't raved about it to you personally, you can get a recap of what happened when Jay Kay read out a banner made by a retard in cowprint pants.

Link 1
Link 2

All of a sudden

2006-01-23T10:34:00.000+08:00

This morning, I wake up groggily to the perky alarm of my mobile phone.
I take my shower. I use my shower gel, my shampoo, my conditioner, all from my little toiletry basket.
I dry myself down. I run my fingers through my hair, slap on some moisturizer and refrain myself from grabbing the foundation. My face feels naked.
I take out a random shirt and a random pair of slacks, both of which I put on in a random fashion. I feel blissfully unkept.
I pack my handbag, head downstairs and watch myself pour raisin bran into a bowl of soymilk.
I head out the front gate and pull out my mules from under the shoe rack. It is covered in Crystal's fur. I refuse to dust it off.
I start the car engine and wait for my parents to get into the car.
I join the rush hour crowd on the train and wait by the bus stop for the shuttle to take me to my office site.
I walk to Block 29, enter the lift and press the button for the fifth floor. The doors open. I take a long, deep breath. I open the door to my office.
To mom's cooking.
To movie outings with friends.
To the used scent of my pillow.
To the confines of my blog that is retardation.
Normalcy has never needed so much getting used to.

Let the madness begin

2006-01-06T16:47:00.000+08:00

This is the post that will reflect my cool composure for the next two weeks.

Hee-yeah, right.

The shoot for S'kali the movie starts next Monday, so I'll be MIA on this blog until 23rd January. You can keep yourself updated in the meantime with the production blog.

To all my friends who have supported my involvement in this film, thanks a million and I will do the best on my part to make sure the final product will not disappoint.

And please. Until I get a starring role opposite Mr. Phoenix, please stop asking me for autographs.

Give my agent a call instead.

Yesterday came suddenly

2006-01-05T10:07:00.000+08:00

Who says the eternal being does not exist?
Who says the sun has gone out?
Someone who climbs up on the roof and closes his eyes tight,
and says, I don't see anything.
- Jalal al-Din Rumi

Farewell, baby girl.
I'll look you up when I get there.

Crystal Clear

2006-01-03T17:36:00.000+08:00

"So, she’ll probably die from that?" my father asked.

"Yes, most likely," Dr. Yeoh answered matter-of-factly, his hand cupping the mass of hardened tissue dangling from her armpit.

I found out from the vet yesterday that my older dog’s tumors are malignant. The chances of her contracting mammary cancer were heightened as we didn’t have her spayed. Another vet had previously said that it was nothing more than a harmless cyst. I had suspected otherwise when I felt it had swelled to the size of a golf ball in a matter of months, with another lump starting to form on her stomach. An operation for removal could cause the cancer cells to spread to other organs, and that is if she is strong enough to survive the operation.

We had taken Crystal checked out because she’s been suffering from severe urinary problems. She’s been put on antibiotics but even if she overcomes this obstacle, that backyard in the sky is still around the celestial corner.

She’s had her faults, and boy, has she committed countless sins in her heyday, but I’ve always found a part of me that could forgive her. She almost slipped past my fingers twice with jaundice occurring in 2000 and again three years later. Now, at the extremely ripe old age of 14 (multiply that with seven for human years and that’s a bit short of astonishing), I'll have to inevitably agree it’s just about that time where she takes a permanent breather.

To a loyal guardian and a dear friend who has watched me grow, who has seen me in all my hours of grimness and glory, who has made me weep, laugh and learn to love... Let’s keep it great til the end.

Let's Go Retro - 2005

2005-12-30T18:18:00.000+08:00

The year 2005 has been one of:

MUSIC
Sting: Took pride in being the only fan in Malaysia who brought a friggin' glow stick.
Force of Nature: Really forced us to deny the call of nature.
Fete de la musique: Talked like a retard, moshed like a rocker.
Buena Vista Social Club: Old-timers on instrumental crack

TRAVEL
Bangkok: Won a trip to catch the MTV Asia Aid, met amazing people, saw Alicia Keys flub her lines
Cameron Highlands: Magical faraway place, fantastic company, rolled downhill in a barrel, f***ed up my knee (on separate occasions)

EXPERIENCE
Killed my hair
Turned Japanese
Looked like an auntie
Grew up in 30 seconds and became Karina
Perfected a groove

SICKNESS
Agony and boredom combine
Severe relapse of the acting bug

REDEMPTION
Had a funny valentine
Became a friend again
Met a familiar stranger
Let go of a betrayal
Learnt - and remembered! - the national anthem

GROSSNESS
Ticked off
Phlegmster

It's really strange... after typing all this out, I still feel like it's been such an unconstructive year.

Best wishes to everyone for the next.

Friday Frolics

2005-12-29T17:04:00.000+08:00

My friend Zona invited me and a few other old college mates to be part of a live audience of her new show, Everyday's a Friday at - keep an eye out for the coincidence here - TGI Friday's at The Curve. Zona was shooting two shows back to back: 7 to 9pm, and 9 to 11pm. I asked her to reserve two spots for me for the second shoot.

My friend John and I arrived at the outdoor shoot, comprising of rowdy diners, harsh lights and people scuttling around with cables trailing behind them. I found Zona discussing something with the host Serena C in the sea of hoopla. I tripped over some wires before calling out her name. She spun around and looked thrilled to see me... almost relieved. I sniffed a waft of conspiracy.

The first show was still being shot so John and I were seated inside the restaurant to wait for the next one. I met up with Keith, an old friend whom I haven't caught up with in ages. I was wary of John feeling left out, but the tables were turned when Keith and John recognized each other as old school mates. I tried looking busy with my camera and cellphone while John and Keith engaged in copious amounts of masculine banter.

During the last segment of the first show, we were taken outside to a table together with a couple of Zona's friends. I introduced myself to them.

"I've seen you before.... You're DISCO-VERY, right?"

Thus the chaos with Nazrul and Veronie began.

The last take was shot and we were herded to the back of the restaurant where the audience members for the next show were to be fed before the shoot. The buffet table was furnished with empty catering trays. The schedule was lagging a fair bit, and our stomachs started throwing b*tch fits. John was getting tired and decided to leave. Half an hour later, the food finally came: Caesar salad, garlic bread and buffalo wings. We ate until food was spewing out of our ears, and then a crew member came over to our table: "Hey! Don't get yourselves too full yet... You'll be given more food on set after this!"

We all paused, romaine leaves and shreds of poultry dangling from our lips.

"...Oh."

We were abruptly ushered out into the open again and shown to our table. A crew lady then announced through the microphone:

"You are going to be served some food... Please, PLEASE take your time with it because we need the food to last for the entire shoot."

Now how hard would that be?

As far as we've been told, it's a breeze.

Zona came to check on us during the technical set-up. She brought along a little orange friend (the one she's holding in her right hand)...

... before reverting to her display of producer prowess.

Nazrul & Veronie

A crew lady came to our table and said "Okay. So who's going to be playing the game later?"

Keith, Nazrul and Veronie all shot their forefingers at me. Secret Operation Get-Retard-On-TV: affirmative.

This particular episode was being shot as a Chinese New Year Special, with celebrity guests DJ Non from Mix FM and actor Chew Kin Wah.

After the interviews, a 'game table' was pulled up, together with two opposing teammates from the audience. The objective was to squeeze the liquideous extract out of WHOLE oranges into a large margherita glass until it is full, then to get your fellow teammate to finish the 'juice' the fastest.

Serena explaining the game...

...which was fun...

...until I saw Kin Wah...

...dip his fingers in.

The other team beating us by a few seconds. I bet that cow was already practicing backstage.

Can't you just TASTE that fresh golden goodness? Mmmmmm-MM.

The other team won. Fortunately, the prize was to be shared between the girls. Unfortunately, it was another drink. But in front of a live audience, you always have to look grateful for free alcohol.

I gave the margherita to the other girl and sat down at my table. My friends praised me for my gusto. I still felt depressed, especially since my pasta... didn't taste like pasta no more.

Half past midnight: It's a wrap!

It was a late evening that was well worth waiting for. I made new friends, caught up with old ones, ate great food and flashed my retarded mug on TV. All for the price of a glass of dirty orange juice. It was the deal of the decade.

All I gotta do now is make sure the kids don't play with the remote control when everyone is back at my aunt's place for Chinese New Year.

*Thanks to Zona for the invitation and Nazrul for the nonstop camera-clicking*

Metamorphosis

2005-12-15T13:54:00.000+08:00

Strong words were exchanged: intimidating threats, heartwrenching confessions, monumental epiphanies. It was enthralling to witness. Then the thought gouged me in the eye: This is gonna be big... And I am sooooo not ready for it.

This week marked the start of rehearsals for my first commercial film. It's a project that has been in the works for years, and to see it blooming is a most satisfying rush. The cast reading through the final script together for the first time felt like magic. The new crew were creating their master plan in another room, their rowdy discussion reeking of novelties and algorithms.

Last night before the rehearsal, while the crew members and I were tucking into gastronomic sins at the mamak, Arivind the director called for my attention from the opposite side of the table.

"You know, you're going to have to start kissing tonight."

"HUH?!?!?!?!?"

"Yes, tonight! Because I can honestly tell you now, if you don't practice for it, it's going to look like crap on camera..."

I stared down at my meal; my garlic naan drooped over the plate in disillusionment.

I had entered the audition room as a naïve freshie adult, ready to take on the world, with high hopes, huge dreams, one hand in her pocket and the other giving the peace sign. One and a half years down the line, I am a frail old geezer, conscious about her looks, pessimistic about her achievements, suspicious of her credibility and wondering how the heck she's gonna tap, from the deep recesses of her soul, that sprightly evergreen sucker for love.

But have to admit, I can't say I'm not a *tad* excited.

Julius, Seize Her

2005-12-09T13:51:00.000+08:00

I sat with right eyebrow significantly arched, left eye narrowly squinting, mouth slightly agape. I could imagine my face making its cameo appearance on a chat screen, contorting itself in a jerky animated GIF file, an emoticon worth a laugh or two with online mates.

It was then when I officially deduced that when it comes to Shakespeare, I'm just not down with it.

After watching The Merchant From Venice in 2000 and Robert Bolt's A Man For All Seasons last year, I left the theatre brimming with the intellectual deftness of a potato.

Julius Caesar is the third and decidedly last production which has shaken the foundations of my monolingual stature. Dilettante, who was featured as an actor, invited me to come and watch the play as a belated birthday present. "Don't worry, I could grasp what was going on quite easily, so I don't think you'd have much trouble understanding it either", he assured me. Perhaps, I thought in this case, I should impart trust sparingly to a law student.

I went to catch the show with my platonic husband Ashvin, whom had expressed interest in the show a few days before. As part of the initiation ritual of patronage to the Kuala Lumpur Performing Arts Centre, we got lost. After an hour and a half of traffic blunders, we managed to arrive on time, and found our (very good) seats inside the chilly and suspectibly hazy space of Pentas 1.

The lights dimmed and upon the utterance of the first line, my autonomic nervous system went on hyperdrive. This is in English? I tried to focus, partially attributing my lack of it to hypothermic temperatures. I hung on to every word which sounded familiar in my pitiful range of vocabulary. I glanced at Ashvin, who seemed to be devouring the scene wholeheartedly. It wasn't long before I began to wonder what I was doing there... why I even bothered trying.

Dilettante then rushed up on stage and I got girly-girl excited. I, for a moment before remembering that it was not a talent show, regretted that I did not bring along a banner and parade his swoon-worthy face on my customised teeshirt.

He stepped off and I collapsed back into the 90-minute maze of incomprehensible drama. If this adaptation was already considered as simple and straightforward as it could get, then I could kiss my appreciation for the art goodbye.

Ashvin and I waited for Dilettante to emerge from backstage after the show. I gave him a thank you cum congratulatory hug, and Ashvin heaped compliments on his performance and the play on overall before the bashful thespian got called back for a briefing.

On the rainy drive back, Ashvin pointed out the climax scene that was beefed up with haunting audio booms and strobe lights. He joked that we went to see a play as an alternative recreational activity from the usual club outings, and we still can't escape.

I very much appreciated Dilettante's present and was inspired by his natural talent. I took pride in catching the names of the characters. I thoroughly enjoyed the suspenseful sound and light effects. I also thought the minimalistic set design was magnificent, the acting was impressive and Samantha Schubert's bountiful bosom was an admirable sight. But for me to stay comfortable in my zone of retardation, I would accept a Jim Carrey movie marathon any other day.