It's a Swan's world

Change - yes, I can?

2009-10-14T20:59:00.000-07:00

There are times where I feel like running away and hiding from it all. Hoping the world will stop- even if it's just for a day.

No, there is nothing truly dramatic happening, no one is dying (at the moment, by the grace of God). I still have family and friends, my house isn't burning to the ground. But there is just something about change that really upsets the balance of life. My life has always been about change and I thought I was prepared, but apparently I'm not.

I've changed churches, changed schools, changed some circles of friends, changed country to some extent, changed jobs. And though some things don't really change, I'm acutely aware nothing in this life remains the same, except God.

Soon I will move out of the house, and be married and have another set of parents, family, etc. I've changed jobs and I still can't seem to feel like I fit in. Change from being employee to employer. I'm going to change churches (yet again) when I marry. All the time not feeling like I have any group of friends that have been with me through it all. But that's not surprising, been like that most of my life anyway. I'm not the kind that calls ppl up (I hardly call anyone up, for that matter) and cry my worries over the phone. I don't hang around with best buddies every other day (though I do have great close friends) because I learnt that even that doesn't remain.

I want to care for others, for my siblings, help my family, etc etc, shoulder their problems. But I can't even shoulder my own.

In some sense, I'm a girl at heart but think like a guy. I don't know if it's a good thing.

These days, I go to sleep praying while I kneel on my face..."God, I can't do this on my own. Help me, please." And this is probably exactly where He wants me to be.

Goodbye again

2009-08-03T22:21:00.000-07:00

I have just given out photoframes to my colleagues, with descriptions of them according to their name acronyms.

My ex-editor, Gim Ean, is showing off black and white photos of her holding hands with Stevie Wonder (to a bunch of giggling journos) as a young journalist then.

My colleague Priya is asking around if anyone knew of any Malaysian philosophers... I replied that Malaysians probably don't think very much.

I've been at Star for 2 years and 5 months, and now I'm moving on. I remembered I used to be so awed at the things people did around me, the kind of knowledge the media had access to, and the power we have in our hands- though many times, our hands are tied.

Since then, March 8 came and gone, Pakatan Rakyat was formed, multiple huge street demonstrations have taken place, we saw the surfacing of various politicians' bedroom antics, we saw a new PM take power, Anwar is being charged for sodomy yet again, the teaching of Science and Maths reversed back to BM and various people are dropping dead. Some were shocking, like Jacko or Yasmin, some hit home hard, like Teoh.

Since then, I have shaken hands with the poor and the rich, spoke with the famous and the forgotten, learnt how to survive on roads with my map book and my dad as GPS, ranted over injustices, gone on three Europe trips, swam with fishes in Perhentian, learnt the pain of struggling between truth and reality, gotten engaged and now on the road to marriage.

In a few weeks, I would be facing 500 kindergarten kids, 30 staff and 1,000 parents and waking up at 6.30am instead of 9am.

Goodbye, Star. Maybe I'll come back one day.

weddings.

2009-03-07T03:45:00.000-08:00

I feel like there needs to be some balance somewhere.

Weddings should be the grandest and happiest (or one of the happiest) day of our lives and yet when I think of the ludicrous preparations that go into it and $$$ involved- I sometimes really wonder if weddings have been commercialised. Like Valentine's Day.

I have grand dreams...of course, I would like a white dress with a train, I would want to look my best, I think flowers around the hall would be lovely. I want a nice wedding cake, and that the hundreds of people coming to be pleased and happy. Nevermind that already each guest at the reception will eat a lunch, and that there will be about nearly 40 tables at dinner, which would come up to be about RM40,000 or so (much more if you want hotel ambience and crap food). I suppose things like that now have become tradition somewhat.

And all the little things add up. Of course all the wonderful clothes for groom, bride, bridesmaid, flower gals, bride's mum etc take up like, over Rm5k maybe (inclusive accessories, shoes blabla). Then, right, makeup artists cost about RM1000 to do your make up and hair. Then many photographers cost at least RM2,000, same with videographers....just for wedding day itself. Maybe some throw in pre-wed shots. I mean, come on. It used to be just frens just took random photos which 10 yrs later, the couple will look back and laugh and smile. Who cares if you posed in Putrajaya by the fountain. And maybe an aunty will help with your hair and make-up. And how many thousands did the event company say they will charge you?? RM5K? What, for two arches, some pillars and a floral bouquets that is to be used for 2 hours?

And if u want live music, you may have to hire a band. Oh wait, I forgot all about invite cards. Maybe RM2,000 there if u want a decent card.

Sometimes I just feel like waking up on my wedding morning, putting my own makeup, stick a rose in my half-tied-self-curled hair, and have DIY flowers put up everywhere and on arches and pillars made from PVC pipes, and handmake some simple cards. I may have saved RM10k there alone. Geez.

Selfless is not a dirty word

2008-12-19T20:34:00.000-08:00

Have you ever thought about what it takes to make a marriage work or start a family?

Well, a lot actually. Physical, emotional resources, money, time, self-discipline, will power, research, love (duh)....etc. It's mostly giving and giving and giving, and sometimes getting intangible rewards in return (which is very rewarding, if one isn't too materialistic).

It's my opinion that people who enter marriages or have kids thinking others will fulfill them or they will find happiness in life that way would be dissappointed at some point. It could be that one day, your spouse may walk out on you, or your kids may rebel and run away, or become ungrateful when you're old and useless. Or maybe you're just not satisfied anyway because the marriage has lost it's romance, or the spouse isn't what you thought he or she would be. Of course, people could marry a rich fella purely for the 'tai tai' lifestyle and get the money, but that's different altogether.

So. My colleagues have been asking me, "Sarah, it's great that you're engaged. But do you REALLY want to get married?" Some just stop there, while others add a reason of "but you're so young!" I'll be 25 next year when I marry, I don't think I'm a kid. You might be interested to know that half my office floor are singles...and they're not young, but they're seemingly happy that way. But I see where they're coming from.

They must be thinking, 'does this poor girl know what she is getting herself into? What about career advancement, traveling and seeing the world, having a few more flings in the dating scene? How about pursuing further studies, going wherever you want with no strings attached, no kids running around? What if the spouse turns out below par?'

Honestly, I've thought about all that. A few times too. When I marry, I give up a few of my dreams- dreams of furthering my studies, or achieving certain things in my career, of seeing the world. My fiance already irritates me on a variety of significant and insignificant issues. When I have kids, I know I'd have to sacrifice even more. But you know what? That's what love is about, which differentiates it from lust. There's a saying; it's possible to give without loving but it's impossible to love without giving.

I think we would never know what true love is if we could never be selfless.

Make money! And more money!

2008-10-04T20:47:00.000-07:00

I see so many Internet marketing websites around, it's not funny.

It goes something like "I've made 96 million the past one year and you can too! Scroll down to find out how!" or "Work from home and make $5,000 a month, guaranteed!"

Right.

Then there is this looooooooong spiel about how this book/programme/software will change your life, just open this website, all the resources are in the CD or book, just sit back and watch the money roll in. Then what follows is a list of 'real life' testimonies about people who tried it and started raving about it ("oh wow, I've made $4,989 the past month! I thought this was just another scam but I'm so glad I tried it" yadayada) and then, you might even get scanned copies of the author's bank account showing how the money is rolling in.

The amazing thing is, the marketing spiel is really long, and the website is really verbiose and long-winded, but people (including me) would actually read the whole darn thing. And then, the best part is, this author keeps telling you this isn't a scam, that this "secret" is so good, he can't keep it to himself and therefore is sharing it with you. Some go further and say "I've tried many things out there and have been dissappointed. So I know how you feel, but I've been there, done that, and I know this works."

But of course, if you really want to find out if it works, you have to buy his product for $50 or $300, whatever it is.

But oh, that's not the end. He will give you money back guarantee within 30 days! And hurry, he's only releasing it at a special price within the next 24 hours! (one website even had a timer ticking off the seconds). *stress*

Ok, let me get this straight. You are a multimillionare, I'm not even sure if you're listed by Forbes, and now you wanna share this great news with me. And all I have to do is set up a website in 5 mins and watch thousands of dollars roll in. And how is it that the last 20 websites of 20 different names I went to sound almost the SAME?

I don't doubt people can be rich through this thing, but you know how? It's through manipulating idiots like you and me (and playing on our lust for money) to buy their products, and say a few hundred buy every month- there u have it...the thousands of cash rolling in. It's like MLM, just less effort and more insidious.

The engagement

2008-09-05T00:24:00.000-07:00

Since lots of people have been asking me how my boyfriend Meng proposed to me, I decided to write it all down here (after repeating myself for about 100 times :D- not that I ever tire of the story!).

Ok. So on Tuesday, Meng casually mentioned he wanted to go to TGIF for dinner the next day, because some of his students (he is a college lecturer) are working as waiters there.

"I promised them I would visit," he said. "They said they wanted to let me try some off-menu food."

So on Sept 3 Wed night, we both went off to TGIF, and apparently his student who could get him "off-menu food" was not working that night. But he did turn up in casual clothing and greeted us, before settling down with some friends for a drink on the other end of the restaurant.

Well to be entirely honest, I was dissappointed that I didn't get to try "off-menu" food but the student was not on duty that night, so I thought 'fair enough'.

Meng and I ordered a set, and conversation was lively and normal except that he was sending text messages to his friends.

"Who is that?" I asked.

"My CG guys, I'm trying to get the to call John in US- you know, talk to him or something," he said.

Hmm, I thought, I hope John is alright. Then we went on talking about other things.

While I was munching on the dessert of chocolate cake, suddenly two of Meng's CG guys-Joel and Gideon- show up with this HUGE bouquet of pink lilies and a paper bag.

Now, I was very shocked. Meng hardly gives me flowers (he's only done it twice since I knew him I think) and definitely not in public.

"Ms Chew, delivery for you..." Joel says and hands me the flowers, and Gideon just stands there and passes me the paper bag.

"NO WAYYYYY," I was saying, thinking it was probably some belated anniversary belated thing.

Anyway, I open the bag and find a box....which I unwrapped slowly and kept unwrapping and unwrapping because Meng had it covered in 15 layers. Some of it had messages for me.

All throughout, Meng was unsuccessfully pretending to be jealous that it was some other guy who gave me the stuff saying "who is it, huh? Why give you flowers one??" while he keeps smiling.

And here I was unwrapping his box until I came to a ring box.

I held my breath, open the box and......

there was no ring.

There was only a piece of paper that said 'You got me!' with a picture of a squid (inside joke- he used to mock-propose to me with deep fried calamari rings).

THEN, while I was laughing and scolding him, he added "You REALLY thought I was gonna propose huh?"

So I scolded him somemore, but didn't do too good a job cuz I was happy, stunned, confused, in disbelief and thinking at the back of my mind "I can't believe this guy. I can't believe this is happening. I think he will probably propose later somewhere private...in the car, perhaps."

After laughing at me for about 20 seconds, he suddenly got up from his seat.

"For the sake of my students who are watching and those who want me to do this--"

Then he went down on one knee (with everyone watching, of course) and asked "Will you marry me?"

Now, I was even MORE shocked (and covering my face in shyness) and actually said "What??"

The poor guy kept looking at me and was like 'quick, answer, quick!' and I finally said "Of course I'll marry you."

Then he quickly sat beside me while people erupted in cheers and claps and someone yelled "THERE'S A PROPOSAL IN THE HOUSE!"

I practically just buried my face in his shoulder and cried. In joy, of course :)

Me and Meng posing with my flowers and the ring after the drama

The CG guys who had a hand in the proposal

My ring and my lilies

Tony Pua: "We want YOU!"

2008-08-05T02:49:00.000-07:00

DAP should put this picture on all their flyers next time!

Anwar this, Anwar that, BN is such a pussycat

2008-07-17T00:00:00.000-07:00

But for the rest of us, it's just too bad
Caught in the middle, what can we do?
I'm sure everyone is frustrated too.

Ten years forward and it has come one full round
economy, sodomy, injustice- we're spiralling to the ground
the principle of 'we reap what we sow'
will spare no one be it friend or foe.

I pray 10 years later my children won't say
"Mummy mummy, why have we become this way,
why have all my friends gone to Australia
why do they say democracy is a failure?"

On and on we point our fingers
But we won't allow our children to be teachers
to teach the values that matter in life
so that the next generation will not live in strife.

On and on we accuse our fellow men
But we can't be united to take a stand
We persist in our perceptions of race and religion
and forget all that is essentially human.

On and on we talk about 'if only'
But we rather not get our hands dirty
We think of our comfort and our money
We run and leave others to the fate of man's folly.

So, on and on we will spiral to the ground
In another 10 years, it will come one full round
If we don't wake up to the principle of 'we reap what we sow'
It will spare no one- be it friend or foe.

Today,

2008-06-02T08:01:00.000-07:00

I woke up with diarrhea.
I had to arrange interviews at office.
I attended a 2 hour training on InCopy and the whole new computer system my office will soon use.
Someone told me he wants to date some girl, whom I think will not be beneficial for him.
My hairstyle became a subject of conversation over tea with a colleague, discussing if Rm380 of 6-7hour perming is worth it (I've not done it yet).
I had to translate some press release from the Education Ministry, praising themselves.
I had my passport photo taken.
Over dinner, I argued with my siblings about the cause of our collective diarrhea, through analytical deductions of who-ate-what-who-did-not-have-diarrhea, until I finally said, "But we have diarrhea anyway, it's done and over with, WHO CARES??"
My friend called asking me to recommend a hot tall chick to act on some television series, as "the girl next door".

I'm sitting here wondering if I'm not a hot chick and why I'm not tall.
I hope I have made peace with my stomach or large intestines or whatever that crap comes from.

Star-ring journalists

2008-05-10T21:47:00.000-07:00

I'm working this weekend, and not much is happening (which is great) except that I have to write advertorials for the sponsors of our C4R poster campaign (not so great).

When I came in on Sat, I noticed at the corner of my floor was cameras, lights, mics, directors, actor and actresses milling around with name tags saying 'film crew'.

I don't know who these actors/ses are, though they must be some popular local celebrities but it beats me....maybe someone can help enlighten me.

So I thought 'Oo, looks happening in here' and decided to take a peek at how TV production is done. It's a series on journalists I think, a few requests had been going around in the office some weeks earlier for some of us Star journos to 'act' as ourselves, sitting down and doing work for a scene in a TV series. I don't know if anyone answered the call (I tried, but they randomly called me one afternoon and asked 'can you come to Cheras now?' when I was on the way to Gentings or something), but this must be that tv series.

So anyway, the directors kept giving instructions and saying 'cut!' 'Action!' a few times and they did many retakes. But I caught bits of the scene conversation...something like:

Girl A to Guy: *whisper whisper, you know etc...*

Girl B (walking by): What is??

Girl A: Why should you know (bla bla bla)

Girl B: You have to answer to me (or something like that)

Girl A: Hah! MAKE me...

and they go on being bitchy to each other while the guy slinks away.

I was thinking 'Oi, journalists are usually not like that la.' I dunno bout magazine writers, but really, if Star journos wanna be bitchy, its a bit more subtle than 'Oh my god, what did you say about me??!' or other bimbotic bitchiness.

But oh well, it's called tv drama for a reason.

The things I do for my job

2008-04-19T02:53:00.000-07:00

The assignment (a drama competition organised by Digi) was supposed to be at 1pm, but I decided to reach at 1.30pm- to avoid all the protocol etc. Now, I dunno why this happened, but upon reaching Dewan Bahasa and Pustaka (DBP) and seeing all their back entrances blocked, I thought I would go in via the front entrance but there was where I lost my way...thanks to all the construction work surrounding that place.

So. After driving around for nearly an hour and my dad frantically trying to direct me on the phone (but the roads he was talking about were blocked too), I decided to park my car at Muzium and take a taxi to DBP.

The taxi guy, Joseph, was quiet at first and then I started talking to him in Malay thinking he was Malay, (that was before I saw his name on his license) and he replied in articulate English. Then I found out he was some construction consultant, lost everything and now driving a taxi "in the meanwhile to survive". We went on talking about KL roads, contruction industry, karma, astrology and God. At times the conversation became weird when he said maybe one day I'll write his book la, asked if I'm married la because I "don't have a married woman's body."

He lost his way about once or twice, so yeah. When I reached the place, it was about...3pm or so.

My head was throbbing, I sat in the packed hall full of screaming primary school kids. To make it worse, the emcee was yelling into the mic to get the kids up and pumping and making them shout FUIYOH and watever else.

I left early, because I wanted to catch a ride from the photographer...but ended up waiting on the kerb because his friend was holding his car keys, and his friend wasn't anywhere nearby. Zzzz.

Now I'm back at the office waiting to go for a night assignment. Save me.

Have you seen death in the face?

2008-04-15T21:24:00.000-07:00

I saw it yesterday.

When I found my uncle in my grandma's house, he was sitting on the toilet bowl struggling to clean himself. His head was hanging to the side, struggling to breathe and he was drooling, not a good sight...we were guessing it was stroke or heart attack, I'm not sure. The maid and I helped to carry him out to the living room.

I propped him on my knees and prayed and prayed without stopping. I tried to call an ambulance and 911 was no help at all. When my dad finally managed to get an ambulance and arrived at the house, it was 1/2 hour later. The ambulance took another 1/2 hour to come.

I wasn't afraid, just begging God to give my uncle one more chance. Not so much that we can have him around longer, although that would have been really great, but more so that he can make peace with God.

But it was too late.

At one point, the maid kept telling me 'he's gone, he's gone, he's not breathing' and I refused to believe it. I kept saying, no he's ok, he's breathing, like I could will him to live.

The paramedics came and started CPR, and I kept thinking...maybe I could have taken him straight to the hospital, if only I knew how to do CPR properly, if this, if that. But I somehow deep down knew it may not have made a difference. Only God knows when is a person's appointed time, my uncle has cheated death before in a drunk driving accident.

People don't like to be told that heaven and hell is real, that God and Jesus is real. But when you look death in the face, I know it's true. And I may never see him again. Forever.

Khairy Jamaluddin: fact or fiction

2008-04-06T21:47:00.000-07:00

I'm been keeping alot of things to myself, and one of them is my 'conversations' with Khairy- the son-in-law of Badawi and Rembau MP.

I dunno how he can single-handedly dominate the incredible amount of rumours here and there, and everyone seems to know what he's up to even though they never met him or heard from him talking on the TV etc. So, my curiosity piqued, I decided to post some questions to the man himself.

And here are excerpts of answers to some of my questions:
Me: I have one pressing question on my mind: Can you tell me what really happened in Rembau on the voting day (with the recount and postal votes)?

KJ: I can categorically state that there was NEVER a recount for any of the seats (parliament or DUN). In fact, the recount rumour was a deliberate attempt to spread disinformation that would discredit the final result.
I was at main polling centre the whole night and as the results came in from the different polling centres (peti undi), there was never at any point a need for a recount at the main centre where the results from all the streams (saluran) were collated. Whether or not there were recounts at the individual peti undi or saluran I am not sure but at no point was the main election result disputed since I won with a majority in excess of 5,000 votes on first (and only) count.
I know there is an urban legend now making its rounds saying that I lost by a couple of hundred votes then suddenly won by 5,000 plus in the recount (during which the lights may or may not have gone off), but none of that happened.
My challenger, Badrul, was not even present at the main polling centre where the results were announced. Were it true that he won and I lost or that there was a recount, you would think that he would be there for the announcement. But at no time did he show up.
As for the postal votes, there was nothing strange there either. I can't remember off hand but I think my majority from the postal votes was only about 500 so even without that I would have won. Plus, the postal vote results were among the first things the EC announced that night so there is no truth the allegation that postal votes suddenly showed up at the last minute to swing it for me.

Me: But are literally all the rumours surrounding you a complete farce then? I'm asking this on a personal basis cuz I'm curious (sometimes too curious). So like, you don't broker contracts at all...you have no influence with politicians etc? People don't try to get to your father-in-law through you? I thought it was a given with quite alot of politicians (getting contracts through, etc).

KJ: I think its safe to say that 99% of the rumours you hear about me are false or inaccurate. People hear things from people who have heard something from someone else. After a while the information gets distorted.
Many people see me for many different things. Some ask if I can help get their kids a scholarship. Some ask if they get a contract to build a university. My job is not to turn them away. Instead I listen but I don't promise anything. At best, I would just forward their requests to the relevant ministry/agency.
People expect me to bring things up to the PM. They think I can help them broker deals. They go to ministries and drop my name. Ministry officials who want to pass the buck tell businessmen that I am the only person who can help with government projects. So a myth is created. But the truth is, I don't do such things.
I am an opponent of this feudal game of patronage that has been created over the last two decades by you-know-whom. But now, I find myself as the poster boy for sleaze because of all the disinformation that's been circulating.I wish somebody would come forward with a concrete allegation so that matters can be clarified. Unfortunately its all innuendos, half-truths and spurious allegations. But once a myth is created, every little bit of falsehood feeds the legend which grows, grows and grows!

Well, that was in the words of the guy himself. Maybe your first reaction is 'yeah right, what bulls***' but think about it. If you're a Malaysian, you should know; aren't we all so good at spreading rumours? How many sms-es you received about some fuel prices rising tomorrow la, some fwd email about stuff happening la, and Mahathir saying on YouTube he admitted to throwing Anwar in jail when it was a speech taken out of context. And you believed them? So what makes stories about Khairy any different, when there isn't evidence? Think about it. I'm not for or against him, I just want people to think.

A guy hit on me

2008-02-16T20:26:00.000-08:00

yesterday and he is only 16.

It was in a public speaking workshop I had to cover, so I sat at the table eating lunch and he came and sat next to me.

"What college are you in?" I asked.

"I'm only 16 unfortunately, though I wish I was one of those child geniuses who can do add math when they're 5, but yeah I'm not," he replied.

Then he went on and talked about how he wanted to invent a time machine so that he can go back in time and change things, then he can be the youngest genius in the world. I said he's too old to be the youngest genius.

"Well I have a gift," he said, "the gift is ME."

I kept looking at my lunch, abit stunned, but added "I hope you don't say that to all girls."

He grinned, "But some girls like it," he said. "So anyway, how about you, where are you studying?"

"I'm working...as a journalist," said I.

He stared. And stared. And nearly choked on his food.

"Oh my god."

My boyfriend trying to be blond

2008-01-27T22:14:00.000-08:00

Here is a snippet of a online chat I had with Meng (insert typical American movie-dumb-blond-stereotype voice for red lines):

Meng: like whuuutever
me: aiyo, u trying to be bimbotic now is it...I dont like bimbo guys
Meng: like, oh my goodness, are you accusing me of being bimbotic
me: WHAHAHAHAHHA
Meng: where did u get that from, do u even know who u are
u little asian thing
me: yes, I'm ur boss
Meng: my boss?
do u even know who i ammm
me: my slave?
Meng: kiss my chihuahua

In the middle

2008-01-08T07:23:00.000-08:00

No one likes to see their parents fighting.

At least, I hope no one does. My family is not perfect, although people envy how we are all closely knitted but sometimes it's a double edged sword. I love the fact that there are hardly any secrets in our family and we have dinner together nearly every night etc.

But then, when something is wrong with one part of the family, everyone hurts.

And sometimes I feel that I should do something to keep everyone together. Maybe I'll be the sacrifice, like the Sang Kancil caught between two elephants.

Or maybe I should just cover my ears with the pillows and pray it will pass. We've been a family together for so long, God has kept us thus far. He can do it again.

And some reading this may think, shouldn't things like these be kept as family secrets? But why, almost everyone knows what it is like to have your parents fight.

But like I said, I guess for my family there is one uniting factor. The love of God, it keeps us together anyway.

It will pass.

How many got raped this year?

2007-11-29T20:11:00.000-08:00

WELCOME TO MALAYSIA 2007....(where about nearly 2,000 are raped)

It was reported in The Sun (25/10) that from March or April 2007 (in seven months) there were 1,830 rape cases in Malaysia.

That breaks down to about 261 a month and nearly 9 cases a day. And those are only reported cases.

Now, I know some will look at that and be alarmed and paranoid...and yes, the statistics are pretty bad. It was way worse than I thought.

But on the other hand, you can't lock yourself in the house forever, so my advice to girls is: be aware. Be always aware. Walk with your head up, your eyes sharp and stare any creepy fellow in the eye with a look that says "if you dare do anything, I will do worse to you."

I was arguing with a guy the other day who accused me and my gender of being too laxed about our personal safety, and wanted his GF to stay indoors because there was a recent murder case nearby and I was basically trying to say...look, you can get raped or murdered in your own home and by people you know even. You can even walk into the pillar without looking, hit your head on the pavement and die (eg: Angkasawan/Dr Syeikh's brother recently in papers).

Haha, this sounds so unlike me, but basically just be street smart la. And pray, I've personally seen God work for me through prayer, the best self-defense :) No use being fearful, people can smell fear.

'He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High, shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress, My God in whom I will trust.

Surely He shall deliver me from snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence'
-Psalm 91-

Ethics and journalism?

2007-10-04T09:26:00.000-07:00

Caller : I've got a story for you. But first, I'll have you know that I want the story to have a proper spin.

Journalist: Huh? What happened?

Caller : I'll tell you now I'm (--political party name--), so I want the story to be a certain way, I might as well tell you straight (laughs).

Journalist : Haha, yeah, you might as well.

Caller : Okay. Do you know this opposition student leader O?

Journalist : Yeah, we follow him for his rallies occasionally.

Caller: Why. Tell me why.

Journalist : I mean...well....there was an issue at his university, they were having a protest, so my colleague went over to find out what is going on.

Caller : Let me tell you, they have been hogging the limelight in the media and portraying themselves to be angels. Now, let me tell you something: He slapped a GIRL.

Journalist : Oh no. Oh dear. The girl is from (*censored*) faction?

Caller : Yeah. And I'm sorry, but a guy slapping a girl for whatever reason just doesn't go well with me. Now I want to know: how are you gonna write the story?

Journalist : I would definitely want to talk to the girl, know how it happened. There were witnesses? And I need to talk to O as well, to find out what he thinks.

Caller : But why? He's gonna tell you lies, I've known him to lie. Even the vice-chancellor is fed up with him. So what is your angle, can you assure me that he will be in a bad light, I mean, I just want people to know the truth.

Hey Badawi, wassup!!

2007-09-02T00:13:00.000-07:00

I find it kinda weird that Malaysia's current PM Badawi doesn't seem to have much aura. If any at all. I knew some ppl were excited bout Mahathir, even to get a glimpse of him, but maybe I'm just skeptical- as most journalists would be I suppose. Kind of numb.

So the other day, I and two others covered the event of the unveiling of the National Higher Education Strategic and Action plan. Badawi and all the education ministers was there bla bla, speeches, speeches, nice quotes, yada ( I nearly slept during Badawi's speech). And I was trying to chase uni vice-chancellors to get quotes then I so happened to stand where Badawi was gonna get off stage and shake hands. And yes I shook his hand. I didn't faint and the sky didn't fall, and he doesn't have a firm handshake. It felt bit more like 'Oh my hands are soft so please kiss it gently' kind of thing.

Now, I think Badawi comes across as a nice guy but I kinda know why ppl think he is weak- he really is a bit too soft spoken for his own good. But that being said, I pray for him and the country as we should do.

My friend from sports desk told me the other day that when Mahathir started out as PM, he wasn't that great a personality either. "He had the brains but not the personality," he says. Only when he decided that he needed help with his image that he went to France to learn under an image consultant or something like that to totally overhaul his image. Which is why he remains such an icon (whether u like him or not) till today.

Anyway. I tried taking a close up pic of Badawi on my handphone but gave up fumbling with my huge bag cuz after awhile I realised- I don't really care.

link for newscasting

2007-08-08T20:05:00.000-07:00

Sorry, its not the podcast link. If you wanna see me wear bad make up and speak on camera with my crooked teeth, it's here on http://videos.thestar.com.my/
You have to look for Daily News 6th August...probably on the 3rd or 4th list at the moment of videos.

MY CAR SLID INTO THE DRAIN and other stories

2007-08-05T03:28:00.000-07:00

Yup that's my car. I had an interview in the Indonesian Embassy a month ago and since I couldn't find parking space, I side-parked on the narrow road behind, with drains at the side...and parked nicely between two tree stumps. But when I finished the interview and tried to get out, I kept hitting the tree stumps front and back. So after a few rounds of reversing and driving front just trying to get out, the car slid into the drain. There were many office people in collared shirts and ties, even Chinese, who walked by and ohhh ahhh-ed among themselves but no one helped me. Two Indonesian or Malay men in jeans and T-shirts stopped by to try push my car out and even hailed a passing CHINESE motorist to come help too. Nothing could be done and I had to wait by the road for about 40 mins for the tow truck to come. The tow guy saw it, scratched his head and said "Ah Moi, apa buat hingga macam ini??"

On the right is my Melbourne CG leader Geraldine Chow. She married Alex on 07/07/07 in Damansara Utama Methodist Church. They have been waiting for this day for seven years. Half of which was spent apart from each other and they still work in two different places, Alex in Sabah and she in Singapore. One of the most beautiful weddings I've seen- lots of tears, lots of laughter and alot of God.

I played futsal last month at The Star's company tournament with a team of fellow colleagues from various desks like Sunday Star, entertainment, weekender and education desks. I was the reserve and I played for...two mins? We lost at third round but it was a close call. That's us, after the game.

Oh and by the way, I'm dabbling in a bit of newscasting recently. Reading news off a moving screen with cameras in your face and lights glaring and sitting in the studio while pretending to shuffle papers kinda thing. No its not for TV and I'm still a journalist, but doing newscasting for The Star online...their news podcast. Go to http://podcast.thestar.com.my/ and see if you can find it. I'm no techy genius but if any one of you see me (one of the stories I read was on CLP examination fraud) and figure out how to download podcast, lemme know. Warning: I look horrible on camera without make-up. It was an impromptu thing and the MDs and bosses were watching.

and...............

Well. That's him.

.

2007-07-04T08:49:00.000-07:00

His name is Ian. I spotted this 7-year old walking along the corridors of his primary school while I looked for people to interview for Teacher's Day. Everyone was busy giving gifts to teachers and bustling about while he, with the help of a teacher, gave out tulips. She says he is a 'special' child. I agree- his smile is special enough.

My Big Mouth

2007-06-17T21:26:00.000-07:00

My editor is the kind who likes the androgynous look I believe. Ever since I started working here, she always wore men's clothes...men's collared shirts, pants, men's shoes. She walks like a man too.

Everytime we talked longingly about marriage and tease each other about men (90% of us in education are single females- so guys, if u wanna work here look out for Education desk), she would roll her eyes and say something like "For goodness sake!" I was half wondering if she is butch.

Today she wore a skirt. A white pleated skirt.

I went over to her desk (not noticing her skirt earlier) and was about to ask something about my assignments later in the day. So I walked to her desk and said "Hi, I wanna ask you about....ARE YOU WEARING A SKIRT??!"

She put her hands on her hips and gave me a half-amused-half-embarassed look akin to nearly laughing at my, erm, reaction. "I have knees and ankles too you know!" she said. I was like huh? for awhile but ok, maybe she has finally felt a need to be feminine.

I have yet to check out her legs.

A cheesy story

2007-05-27T00:35:00.001-07:00

So it happened that more than a year ago that Matchgirl fell in love with a Stickboy that vaguely resembled her dad when he was young.

And like her mum, she was the oldest in her family and like her dad, Stickboy was the youngest in his family. Her mum used to tell Matchgirl that when she wanted to get her dad's attention before they started courting, she asked him to take her out to buy orange juice in the supermarket. Well as for Matchgirl, she cut her finger one day and Stickboy got her a plaster.

And everything was going along fine until Matchgirl had to go away to another country.

Then came a war and many sticksoldiers were ordered to fight, and they both got caught in the middle. Stickboy was drafted into the army but was injured and hurt his back so he had to stay at home for abit. Letters were sparse as one by one the postmen were killed and the post offices were bombed. Telephone cables were destroyed which didn't help. Soon enough, they couldn't communicate at all.

Then one day, Stickboy received a letter from Matchgirl saying she will not come back, at least not anytime soon. She explained very briefly that she had a baby that she had to attend to because the baby was sick. "I will explain later," she wrote.

A BABY??! Stickboy thought. He was heartbroken, betrayed and wounded inside, worse than any other physical injury he had. He wished he died in the war.

Then one day, Matchgirl came back. She was happy because she thought, at last, she could see Stickboy.

But Stickboy was hurt, and was not too pleased to see her although he still missed her badly.

"You said you had a baby. How could you do this to me?" he asked.

"It wasn't my baby, it was never mine to begin with. It is dead now."

She explained it was a baby she adopted because it lost its father in the war and mother in childbirth, she didn't have the heart to abandon the child when she saw him crying alone in the hospital where she worked. But in the end, he caught a fever and died.

"But look! Now I've come back!" Matchgirl told Stickboy.

And they got married, had a baby of their own and lived happily ever after. Ok, not really happily ever after because occasionally they would strike a flint in anger and burn each other but well. They were happy.

Public apology

2007-05-02T22:42:00.000-07:00

Alright, I admit I'm wrong.

A few of my friends read my previous entry and said I really shouldn't do something like that and if I had a problem with someone, I should sort it out personally.

Here are a few things I thought of to defend myself:
1) I'm not gonna let people trample over me, I've had enough
2) I don't mind public shaming because really, if I sort it out personally, that person may just go on and do it to another person. Same with people borrowing money and never giving back, people lying and backstabbing...it's basically bad habits. No public shaming--no motivation for correction.
3) It's my blog.
4) I didn't do it out of anger, more out of indignation.
5) I'm tired of being nice all the time, I need some space to rant.

Here are a few things God told me:
1) I don't have any rights to begin with, all rights go back to Him.
2) Am I being a stumbling block?
3) 1 John 4...God is love, and those who love God loves his brother/sister/etc
4) Love covers a multitude of sins.
5) Rant to Him, not to people.
6) I should have tried reaching out to her and talking to her personally.

It's not really just about this issue but other things that people do to me that I push out of my mind or shrug my shoulders, but its still buried there until someone else comes along and digs it up. I once told my brother, "Your motto shouldn't be 'trust everyone until proven wrong', it should be 'trust no one until proven otherwise'."

I suppose there is a line between being a good Christian loving everyone and being a doormat. But I suppose if He's powerful enough to create the whole universe, He's powerful enough keep me from harm. And to pick me up when I do fall down.

Why are some people so shameless

2007-04-28T04:37:00.000-07:00

At the very moment I'm writing this a friend (if I can call her that) from China who was my coursemate is asking me what to write for her assignment. Can I pass her my previous assignment? "Because I don't know what to write, I need some ideas," she says.

And this is not the first time, throughout my three years in Melbourne it is the same thing.

Ok, asking me for ideas is fine, but this is what annoys me. She blatantly asks me for my previous assignments and essays I've handed in before. I wanna tell her, like, there is such thing as plagiarism and I'm definitely not letting you copy my work which I took like, weeks to do.

But you see, since I'm such a nice girl and hardly wanna look like I'm so selfish I tried to help whenever I could. She has, in fact, took my previous essay before and till this day hasn't returned it.

What broke the camel's back was that one fine day, she called me at like, 9pm at night and said "Sarah, could you help me proofread my essay and give it back to me by 12am?" Man, she is SO thick-skin to treat me like a servant. But lo and behold, I agreed. Only because I wanted her to fill up a survey, I needed a Chinese participant. I took one hour plus to edit her work (because it was crap English, sorry but true), I dunno why I even bothered, she must have taken not more than 15 minutes on my survey.

I really don't wanna be racist, because I'm Chinese too, but only China students do this to me. And to another friend. And to heaps of other people I've spoken to before.

And whoever is reading this so happens to be that girl I'm talking about, I say: STOP IT YOU ARE BEING SUCH A.....%$*$%&*

Copying my work is a poor substitute for your stupidity. And shaming all your fellow countrymen of whom I'm sure some are smarter than you.

random pictures

2007-04-13T06:32:00.000-07:00

I'm kinda bored and need a break from thinking about when my next deadline is. So here are some old pics of me and my family..

That's my little bro sitting in a car boot.

That's me and my brother who is, erm, frowning at me for I dunno what reason.

That's my little sister sitting on a toboggan with my mum hanging on to her. Taken on the French border of the Pyrenese.

OK enough pics for now, gotta go somewhere. More next time...

"Are you still alive?"

2007-03-28T02:10:00.000-07:00

That was the first question my editor asked me when she called today to check on me. I had just sms-ed her and told her I would be coming to work late because I woke up with bad gastric and diarrhea regretting that I kept ignoring my hunger pangs the day before.

"Yes I'm surviving!" I reassured her.

And all my friends at office asked why I didn't take an MC. Now, I don't exactly want to look like I am one of those journalist freaks who are married to the job but I just wanted to finish up my centrespread story (which is equivalent to some of your essays, people) by today or I'll be regretting on Friday when we have to proofread and hound the artists about minute details in the text or pictures or layout or...etc.

Anyways, three of my features have come out last Sunday in education (March 25, 'Speak and you shall be heard', 'All I want...', 'Eating right in schools'). http://www.thestar.com.my/education/

And check out this Sunday's (April 1) education pullout on some music workshop thing by jazz drummer Lewis Pragasam. Centre-spread. Heh..

Ok, self-indulging over. Soon enough, I'll be writing so many things so I'm not gonna be bothered telling ppl to read. My byline is Sarah Chew by the way, look if u want.

So how is work? Everyone has been asking me and I suppose I have to say I survived 3 weeks of the job. Being the newbie here, people tend to make me do more work and I have to follow some seniors around if we're covering ministers. So far I've met the deputy education and higher education ministers and some ppl here and there on the exams board (no, I'm not gonna start leaking exam answers) and PR ppl everywhere. British Council la, UPM la, wheelchair basketball players, crappy school principals.

I told a friend that I covered ministers and he's like 'wah' but seriously. They're nothing great. They go on about things that even I could crap up in 5 mins, and their quotable quotes are like....'we need a paradigm shift' (shift from what also I dunno) or 'we want to do this and this in line with our goal of achieving world-class education'. Oh save me. Even if they didnt do their homework at least PRETEND to say something intelligent.

My senior told me all kinds of ridiculous stories of politicians and their...intelligence. She once interviewed some Pahang dude and she was pointing out to him a problem with libraries. Apparantly he said to her "Oh so how ah?" Mind you, she actually suggested an action plan to him and he was like "Oh wow ya, say that la. Watever you told me, just use my name for watever." It became one of the main news in Metro I think. And really, no wonder so many journalists are so skeptical. It comes with the job.

I hope I'll retain some innocence :) Wish me luck.

Work!

2007-03-07T01:40:00.000-08:00

The person on my left computer terminal is typing about some environmental issue. Her phone rings, the ringtone has frogs croaking. Literally. Then she chats about sea monkeys to a friend and gasps at the latest Indonesian disaster. "Is the world falling apart?" she exclaims.

The woman on my right is writing about her tour of Egypt. Must have been paid for by the company. She stops for awhile and talks to the other woman beside her, "So how did the date go?" "Oh, not bad..." the other woman says. I can't help but eavesdrop. She went on a date with a 40-yr old man, he's into real estate and charity works. The women laugh about him collecting brownie points to gain her heart. She's going on a series of dates with 9 men, in hopes to find Mr. Right--and write about them. "I hope I don't break their hearts!" she tells me later. Well. Maybe you can watch out for her stories in Star Two one of these days.

This is my 4th day at work, I'm sitting here nearly alone on the entire section and I've learnt something new today.

Never come in on time. Everyone comes in after 9.30am. (Sounds familiar, MY?)

BUT. But. They tend to leave late too...basically, don't leave till your work is done for the day. That could mean 5.30pm, 8pm, 2am, etc.

Here are some cool things bout my job:
1) You get a pretty decent allowance for mobile phone bills (!)
2) The education section I'm in has a few overseas trips a year. The writers take turns to go on them. So far they've gone to Canada, Taipei, California, France, South Africa, LA, etc. Unfortunately, I'm new so I'm at the bottom of the list.
3) You get paid for doing work on my off days, or covering assignments outside normal working hours. Overtime.
4) If I ever need to wear specs, which I don't intend to, they will cover the expenses. Every year.
5) Medical and dental treatments are free. Job related or not.
6) Should you die, a decent amount of money will go to your family.
7) You get to claim for alot of things. Which I can't remember what. So it renders it pretty useless at the moment.

Some not-so-cool things bout the job:
1) You work hard. Datelines are real. Not only the editor is scrutinising your work, the sub-eds are too.
2) Education not only covers stuff that comes out in the pullout on Sunday, it covers news as well. Anything education related. If you're working on a news piece, you work till late, until the editor clears your piece.
3) You're expected to work weekend shifts. And my parents are gonna yell if I have to work Sundays. But I get some weekdays as my off days.
4) You probably have to bug every Tom, Dick and Harry that you know for interviews.
5) My baptism of fire begins next week. SPM results come out and we'll be running from school to school trying to grab the most interesting stories before other newspapers get it. And probably working till 3am or something.

Oh well. Let's see what else happens.

Goodbyes.

2007-03-03T01:01:00.000-08:00

I've said many goodbyes the past two weeks. I was in Melbourne for 6 days to sell off my stuff that have sustained me through 3 years of uni life, I had to ship back some things, I gave away some things. I tried my best to catch up with people whom I won't see for some time--if ever at all. I sat in an open park at night under a lamp watching my church friends say their goodbyes in the typical CG way of saying nice things bout the person who is about to leave. It was probably untypical that it was open-air and at night with possums attacking us from all corners, but I sat there thinking...I used to be one of them. And I'm gonna miss them all. Uni friends, church friends, friends of friends, housemates, fellow editors/reporters in magazines.

All those lazy afternoons of gelati in summer and hot chocolate in winter, the roller skating by the beach, laser quest, swinging my legs over Grampians' cliffs. Watching anime and shaking my head at the DOTA guys. Blindfolding people and throwing flour at their birthdays. Eating at Sam T's ultimate bachelor apartment, steamboat at Ben's, pot bless at College Square. Retreats, camps, conventions, holidays, sea, beach, hills, sun, moon, stars, indoors, outdoors, in uni, out of uni. A person calling me at 8am on Sat morns (AHEM, ppl need to sleep..). Stressing for essays, haggling for articles, pouring over academic references. Studying together in the library. Praying, crying, laughing, smiling, frowning, misunderstandings.

Goodbye.

I went back home to Malaysia and decided I needed to clean my room before I start work on Monday. My first official job as a journalist with The Star. I needed some ORDER in my life, you know, some sort of organisation and a sense that I'm a yuppie to be.

I didn't know what to feel. Old clothes were packed away to be given to charity. The stuffed toys were stored away, gifts from childhood friends were put away. Where the photoframes once were, cosmetics now stand. Handbags hang from a wooden coat hanger, where my art papers used to be. A cheque sits on my table, where my school books used to pile. My room is full of my childhood, my teenage years, memories of people and places fill that room. It is old now. The paint is fading, hardly impressive as a yuppie room but really. I can't decide if I actually wanna grow up.

And suddenly goodbyes become harder.

This is a new season. In a few months, I won't be as free to go skating on the beach. Or hang out eating people's cooking. In a few months, I won't be as naive anymore. I'm gonna meet new people and new friends, and discover all over again if I can trust them. I'll be driving round, with a proper handbag on my arm and wearing high heels. And maybe even a dash of make-up (oh horror!). And trying to snoop around people's lives without getting caught.

And before you know it, I'm a woman.

Valentines.

2007-02-05T08:01:00.000-08:00

To all my friends, you know who you are.

...thank you.

To all those who have always been there for me.

...I want to do the same for you.

To all whose hearts I've broken.

...I'm sorry.

To the Lover of my soul, Jesus.

...if only everyone knew you like I do. I may have never been kissed but a glimpse of Your face is more than enough.

And since it's 'Valentines' coming up. To all the guys who've been uniquely part of my life. Which means brother, father, friends, etc.

...either 1) forgive me, I know women are hard to understand
2) You will never escape me *poke* (wahahah)
3) Can you please grow up
4) Erm.
5) It's good to know you're doing fine
6) slashaa
7) I love you (this is for my dad. Don't so perasan please)
8) Go fulfill your dreams
9) If you really must give me a stuffed toy, I prefer puppies to teddy bears. Unless they are beanie bears, you know? (ok, rubber duckies are fine)
10) Yes, women do shave their underarms. Do you have a problem with that?

Ten things I learnt from job interviews

2007-01-26T03:31:00.000-08:00

1) Blend in as much as possible

The first interview I went to was in this place where my skin colour was extremely rare. It was quite a sight. All of them stopped and stared at me. I started regretting I didn't wear a fully covered loose fitting attire or baju kurung instead of my fashionable form-fitting (but decent, I assure you) blouse and slacks.

2) When in doubt, ladies should wear high heels and carry a handbag

One of the jobs I applied to was for the post of English language instructor. Now, thinking it was a post that didnt need too much dressing up, I wore a nice collared shirt, slacks, wore flat shoes and carried a sling bag. Flats were because I thought I had to do alot of walking to get to that interview place. The interviewer looked at me and asked "How old are you? you look like a school girl. I was shocked to see the shoes you were wearing." At the end of the interview, I shook his hands and he smiled. "And please la, get a handbag," he said.

3) Don't play with your tongue while being interviewed

So it was that I was subconsciously moving my tongue over my teeth in my mouth. And the interviewer said "you really shouldn't chew gum while being interviewed." I DEFIANTLY insisted I was NOT chewing gum but merely cleaning my teeth with my tongue. Heh.

The interviewer puckered up his face and frowned.

4) Be passionate. Enthusiastic. Even when you think it's the crappiest job in the world.

I remembered sitting in an interview and having the boss explained to me the intricacies of an editor's job in his company. Basically--editing corporate in house stuff, occasionally throwing in a few pictures and designs, proofreading, proofreading and more proofreading. And looking at the company's accounts to make sure the annual reports are all in order in THAT particular margin and template bla bla. Alright, I give the boss credit, he was really trying to make it interesting to me. But yet, he kept asking, "Is this what you wanna do? Do you like it?" to which I answered..."Uhm...yea...like...it's quite interesting...u know...uhm, I would love to see how it's done.." I've yet to get a call back haha. But seriously, I don't mind the job.

5) Bring a calculator when they say you have to sit for a 'test'. Regardless if the profession in mind will probably not require one at all.

I've had two tests for two different interviews so far. One was for an editing job and another was for a journalist position in an established newpaper company. The editing test was one and a half hours, it was alright. But the journalist's one was THREE and a HALF hours. And I had to use their calculator to interpret a pie chart. What the??!

6) Be mentally prepared for the worse.

First of all, I wasn't ready for the 3 and 1/2 hour journalist test. And I didn't expect them to make me read through a 20 page Prime Minister's speech given in a political General Assembly...in Malay (it was part of the test). I had to summarise the speech, heaven forbid. Then right after the test I skipped lunch and was interviewed by four people, from different departments in the company and the Human Resource people. Then I was told that my shoes were ugly and I needed a handbag in a different interview the next day.

7) Always be on the alert and say diplomatic things--you never know who you are talking to.

In between a test and an interview, I was waiting in a Human Resource office when this nice old chap sat next to me and asked me if I was there for the interview. He said he was an interviewee too. And he happily talked and asked me heaps of questions bout myself, my expectations and bla. When the editor turned up to interview me, she exclaimed "Oh look who is here to accompany you! The boss himself!"

8) Try to think before you speak.

The editor of a Sunday newspaper asked me if I was willing to work weekends occasionally. I said I don't mind Saturdays, but I do want to keep Sunday's free because I'm a Christian. "Do we have to work on Sundays?" I asked. She gave me a weird look. "Well, what do you think? Of course not, or we won't even have a Sunday paper to read!" she replied.

I quickly covered up my blunder by saying, "No, I meant wee hours of Sunday morning...."

9) Read. Sound intelligent even though you hardly know what you're truly saying.

I have been asked if I knew what corporate annual publications are. Whether I heard of the latest reality TV show. What are the latest developments in the nation's education scene. What sort of policies I could propose to the government on racial integration in schools. If I have ever heard of Etihad airlines.

Of course, the best question of them all was, "Can you dress well?"

10) Laugh at yourself.

And the whole world laughs with you. Even the interviewers.

Crapology: A psycholinguistic analysis of Crap

2006-11-05T04:29:00.000-08:00

Chew, Sarah and Yuen, Justin (2006) Crapology: A psycholinguistic analysis of Crap. Melbourne: Lame Publishers Ltd.

JusTim邦 says:
why do we talk crap
JusTim邦 says:
is it genetic
sarah/suan mei says:
its cultural Crap differs across different sub-groups and cultures
sarah/suan mei says:
it is to create a sense of bonding and familiarity hence making it an in-group marker
sarah/suan mei says:
in order to fit in a social circle, one has to be competent in speaking the lingo of Crap in that group
sarah/suan mei says:
'Crap' occasionally has different terminology in youngsters today...sometimes called 'lame jokes' or it could be a generic term for many meanings, from 'alot of content' to 'non-useful bantering'
JusTim邦 says:
wow i guess yea cultural is one thing
JusTim邦 says:
but i think some people crap more than others
JusTim邦 says:
so i think there is still a genetic link
JusTim邦 says:
maybe there is a gene that makes a person more predisposed to crapping than say another person without it
JusTim邦 says:
and the predisposition to crapping can be affected by the cultural context in which the person grows up or lives a long time in
sarah/suan mei says:
the frequency of 'Crap' output also may differ according to variables such as mind alertness (inverse relationship), exposure to other Crappy people (linear relationship over time). The content of Crap, however, is greatly influenced by environmental factors such as exposure to film, books, family etc.
JusTim邦 says:
i think it might be exponential relationship over time in terms of the exposure to other Crappy people.
sarah/suan mei says:
ah true that
JusTim邦 says:
i think the cause of crap still lies in culture and genetics
JusTim邦 says:
both are valid factors
JusTim邦 says:
so the question now is
JusTim邦 says:
which one is more dominant factor
JusTim邦 says:
is it the cultural factors of exposure to like-minded people which cause so many people all over the world to succumb to this verbal nonsensical disorder
JusTim邦 says:
or is there something that is written in our code.
sarah/suan mei says:
well I believe the capacity for humour may be in some sense genetic...but 'Crap' is such a generic term and it means different things to different people--therefore already proving its cultural beginnings
JusTim邦 says:
you might be on to something there
JusTim邦 says:
cultural startpoint
JusTim邦 says:
without the culture of the group giving a pretext for Crapping, without it as a trigger to an otherwise dormant behaviour disorder, i guess it matters not whether a person is genetically predisposed to Crap or not
JusTim邦 says:
however, it stands to reason that for a person with a genetic predisposition, only a mild exposure to Crap culture can cause the person to burst out with Crap upon Crap in their spoken and written languages.
JusTim邦 says:
and for a person who is not predisposed, it may take longer, or there might not be any capability to Crap whatsoever
sarah/suan mei says:
hence from this intellectual discussion on the subject of 'Crapping'
sarah/suan mei says:
I now come to this one conclusion
sarah/suan mei says:
both of us are Crappy people

HOW DARE THEY...watever la.

2006-10-28T08:50:00.001-07:00

You would think that in the 21st century, most affluent people living in cities should have some sort of western rationale. Or sensibility. Or idea of politeness.

Well. That's what YOU think, and what I would LIKE to think.

Just the other day, my uncle's GF's parents called my race 'backward'. We're Baba Nyonya, so what? We live in good suburbs, own a few cars, a fair education. But they think he's not good enough for their daughter...because he's not earning like, huge bucks in a month. They think we're stupid and below their class. And they want their daughter to get out of the relationship, nay, get out of the COUNTRY even.

They called the house and threatened my grandparents that they will do something to him if their daughter still refuses to leave.

No my friends. This is not Afghanistan or India or something. These are affluent chinese in Malaysia.

And they call us backward.

Cool video- animal cannibalism

2006-10-26T05:35:00.000-07:00

Pelican Eats Pigeon - video powered by Metacafe

One of the comments said this:

A wonderful bird is the pelican,
His bill will hold more than his belican.
He can take in his beak
Food enough for a week,
But I’m damned if I see how the helican.

and they say they envy me

2006-10-22T07:24:00.000-07:00

Just the other day, my friends and I were talking about our families.

They said they have problems relating to their parents, or their siblings--or just simply do not know what to talk to them about. It's kinda like this:

Dad/Mum : How are you?
my friend : Ok lor.
Dad/Mum : How are your studies?
my friend : Ok.
Dad/Mum : Are you sure you alright?
my friend : Uhm. Yeah. Oh, my bank account running low *ahem*.

Here is what a conversation with my parents are like:

Dad : I've been trying to call you. Why you never call me one? How come you can call other guys and not call me?

Me : I tried calling you yesterday la AIYO.

Dad : So you said you bought that jacket. Does it look good?...bla bla (half an hour later) Wait,your mum wants to speak to you.

Mum : Eh, how are you? Alot of assignments? Why don't you wanna come home and work next year?

Me: Erm, cuz I think its good to do Honours and bla bla ....

Mum : So you wanna stay there for another year? So, any potential guys? *laughs*

The above is usually the nice chirpy tone and everyone thinks, oh how lovely, my parents are my friends and why can't their parents be that way? And oh, I'm so close to all of them, we share information and hardly any secrets are kept. Well. I'm not complaining- usually. Just wait till you hear them scold me :p. Or see the sort of strict lifestyle I live. And people wonder why I have only seen like, maybe 20-30 movies in my lifetime, or have hardly much interest in anything vaguely 'worldly'. There are reasons for all that of course, but none of you would understand completely. But no, we don't follow a cult and my Christian life has been anything but boring, but that is a story for another time.

But at the end of the day, I won't give my family up for anything else. So here is to my family.

(there was a scandalous pic here of myself and my bro but it has been taken off because of the publicity it has attracted. And my mum is worried that potential suitors might think we are already taken. Which we aren't but nevermind)

Hmm. I know this last pic is quite *scandalous* but at least you know who the guy is :p

Last (and only) woman standing

2006-10-02T02:15:00.000-07:00

From left to right (top): me, Sam Tai, Derek, Patrick, Sam Wong's friend, Pat's fren 1, Ji Xiang who thinks he's too cool

From left to right (bottom): Sam Wong, Ben Wong who is more concerned with shooting Pat than the camera, Pat's fren 2, Kim Seng (Pat's only fren whose name I can remember)

23 September- we donned army suits, wore weird hats with laser sensors, formed ranks while totterring guns and took to the bush. Yeah sounds like a guys' thing but I suppose as Derek says, I'm one of them...sometimes. Hey I like pink and making apple crumble ok, so I'm not tomboy or anything. Anyways, I ended up being the only female in the outdoor laser skirmish outing. The guys said they would *protect* me but HA, like I believed them. They ended up shooting me even *gives Pat and Kim Seng a knowing stare*.

And yes I know I look like a kid up there so stop laughing.

Each of us had to wear those ugly green suits, and two different kinds of hats which will determine which team we're on. The laser sensors were on the hats and our guns, therefore we had to either shoot the gun or ppl's heads. There were a few guns to choose from....from the smallest one which had 3-40 metres range to sniper guns which had grenade launchers that 'kills' anyone within 90 degrees radius, bout 90-100 metres range. I'm carrying one of those that has 70 metres range. The guns also indicated how many lives we had, depending on the game.

Well we weren't the only group there for the laser skirmish, there was a huge group of kids from maybe 6-10 yrs old all yelling and shooting away in the woods and we had to form two opposing groups with them. I suppose I could have fit in with them if they weren't so....u know, one of them shot me from the back, while I was crouching on the ground...my life went down from 9 lives to 4 lives. He just stood there grinning like he accomplished something but I WAS ON HIS TEAM arrrgh. Well you will find out later however, that I'm no better :p

We played a few rounds, sometimes with the kids, sometimes by ourselves. I quite enjoyed myself minus the terrain- I mean, there was bushes, holes and lalang and thorns everywhere. Natural forest, no cleared paths or anything. At one point where I 'captured' the flag and I was on my hands and belly crawling because of the crossfire, cut my hands on the thorns. Wasn't too funny trying to endure them while brushing teeth that night.

The last game was probably be the funniest laser game we had. It was called 'last man standing', where basically it's every person for himself/herself. Well, we still formed alliances among each other. I was in alliance with Sam Tai, Pat, Derek and Ji Xiang. We just hid behind trees and killed nearly everyone else until Derek (who got killed somewhere in between) told me "there are no others! Kill everyone!" So I shot Ji Xiang till he died, much to his dissappointment. I dont think he would trust me much now haha. And while Pat were finishing Sam and Ben Wong off, Sam T was trying to shoot me. Then me and Pat ended up shooting him. Then it was the two CG leaders against each other--we had killed all our CG members. And while all the CG members sat around watching, I was jumping from tree to tree trying to figure out where Pat was. Right.

So technically, I was the last woman standing.

That is, until Pat shot me bout 5 times and finished the game. So ok FINE, he's the last man standing. He wanted me to say on my blog about how he is so skilled and suave and yadayada. Oh well Pat, who are you trying to impress? Heh :p

Gals, you missed out.

Guys, you need to get back at Pat haha. You gonna let him take all the glory?

People actually CARE

2006-09-18T00:55:00.000-07:00

I can't believe how self-centred and pessimistic I can be sometimes. Usually everyone thinks I'm the calm, never-get-angry, always-in-control kind. But recently I'm been more and more revealing of my emo side and I think I'm freaking some ppl out. Heh.

I had a great camp last weekend. The camp committee and I have been working like crazy for this (and some of us were treading the line between sanity and insanity haha) but well--it was worth it. People made new friendships, people were hungry for answers and were eager to learn, they had fun, etc etc. But towards the end I sat and thought to myself...I'm so tired. Does doing all this matter? Did people meet God? Why do I feel like I keep giving out when I have nothing left to give, I need some TLC myself.

But the last session answered that for me. If people didnt meet God, at least I did. And the camp didn't have the speaker doing all the laying of hands la and the charismatic acts and stuff. God met me there, while I was sitting listening to the speaker. I just started crying. Not the occasional sniff sniff kind, I was nearly crying my eyes out. And all the guys (yes, I noticed guys dont handle a gal's crying very well) starting freaking out. The gals were more accepting and offered a prayer.

Like, how self-centred can I be? Sure, I may be going thru tough emotional patches, but hey, as if no one else does. And the speaker--we didnt have anything much to give him. He agreed to speak at the last minute and yet, he made it almost his own responsibility to make sure camp was going great, he went out to buy toilet rolls for us when we forgot to bring our own, he bought presents for the camp commandents and the chefs(!!) when really, it was our job to do it. Then on the last day, he went on his knees and washed all of our feet. Literally.

And the chefs- 6 of them from church- came to cook for us all those 2 nights and 3 days. And we're not even paying them, the church is paying for their accomodation. Cook and clean for 40 people.

There are people out there who care so much when there is possibly nothing in it for them. Why? Do they love God so much that they'll keep giving anyway?

Is it possible I've become so hard and selfish that I find it hard to believe?

07.09.2006

2006-09-07T10:11:00.000-07:00

I didn't know how painful dying to self felt. Until now.

The forgotten Sydney holiday

2006-08-28T03:02:00.000-07:00

The Gap. Nice place...although some people suicide there. A pastor friend I was staying with after the conference took me to take a look after Hillsongs Conference.

Bottom: My friend John whom I kept in touch with since ...5 yrs ago I think.

A scary picture a friend took of me while taking the train back from the conference to Rachel's house, where we stayed.

Left: That's Sam, Rachel and Su Ann. Making funny faces, we all were...cuz we were bored in the train.
Right: Steamboat! Prepared by Rachel's parents, they made us dinner/supper every night. We felt really at home.

This is Charlene. She sleeps with a koala and talks to him every morning and night in a weird kiddy voice. Sometimes in the middle of the night she wakes up and rummages the bed to find her koala and wakes us all up in the process.

Ok, if you were wondering when on earth did all these happened, I was in Sydney 2-10 July this year. Mainly for Hillsongs Conference with some church friends. And also to visit a family friend' family. I didn't put up pics of the Sydney Opera House or the Darling Harbour and the incredible speakers at the conference, bla, too cliched. I just showed you some quirky stuff in Sydney, that probably noone will remember in time to come.

12.35am

2006-08-21T04:49:00.000-07:00

Loneliness
some say, is a cruel thing
and while it has a mortal sting
the greater culprit is the absence of love.

One can feel lonely but be loved
If one is not loved, one will be lonely
truly alone.

You. You said 'I Am'
and You are
all I have now
I'm not alone for You are Love
so don't go. please.
Stay till I take the final bow.

questions questions

2006-07-30T06:52:00.000-07:00

why do people like to

scratch their mosquito bites and draw crosses in them
dig their noses and smell/eat/roll the buggers
pinch their pimples
bite their nails or pull out bits of skin beside their nails
shake or swing or vibrate their legs subconsciously
make funny faces at babies
stick their tongue out when they make a mistake
comment about your weight if they haven't seen you in ages
wear black
eat food that are sweet, sour or salty over bitter

A weird dream

2006-07-14T01:26:00.000-07:00

The jungle was like any Malaysian jungle, a little dense on the ground and muddy tracks fashioned by a few hikers before us. My friends and I were walking through it. Then for some absurd reason, I sensed danger...I told them we have to turn back. It's WWII, the soldiers will find us! So we dart through trees, and came upon a clearing, with some squatter houses.

Suddenly there were soldiers everywhere! A friend (I'm declining to mention names, cuz some of them are ppl reading this blog) and I slipped into one of the houses to hide...but we were finally caught anyway.

We were all thrown into prison. I couldn't really remember much of what happened to the whole lot of us, but our captors were pretty sadistic. Each of us had our own type of 'torture'. For me, it was to face a torturer one on one in a dimly lit room. Behind the torturer (which was a woman, with a face I shockingly recognised) was an array of weapons. Clubs, swords, knives, sickles, etc. I was given an axe. Here was the deal; if I could kill the torturer before she kills me, I could go free. If not, every few minutes- starting from the 'least harmful' weapon- she would switch to a worse weapon and start cutting me to death.

She started with a switch blade. I thought an axe was an advantage, but it was so heavy I could hardly swing it. Half the time I was just defending myself from her swift attacks. But fortune would have it, I actually manage to knock her out a little. At one point she looked dizzy, and I decided I was gonna run for it. I ran for my life,...past the guards and and doors. Then I came to a wooden platform and realised that the whole torture chamber was a wooden structure built on sea, surrounded by sea. The sea was choppy, and the wooden structure was close enough to land for me to escape. A friend was already on the other side, he must have been one of them who escaped too. "Jump," he told me, "quick!"

The phone rang. I staggered out of bed and answered it. "Is Dad awake?" my mum asked. I passed the phone to dad and wondered....did I escape?

God, this stinks.

2006-06-13T08:50:00.000-07:00

It hurts. It really really does.

And yet I've run out of energy to ask You 'why', cuz it's so cliched and it's useless. And I know better than to blame You. Yet somehow more than ever, You are close. I can hear You whisper and I can hear You speak--they way You used to joke and banter with me when I was a child.

People ask me, how can I hear You, how can I know it is really You? I dunno, I just do. And when I do, I don't ask anymore questions.

But oh God, it still hurts.

view my website!

2006-06-05T04:50:00.000-07:00

Just in case any of you are interested, I have created a website called 'Racism in Australia' for an assignment. I thought, since I stayed up all night to put it up...and not to mentioned my friend helped me for 5 hours...I'll let you all take a look. But do look before July.

http://webraft.its.unimelb.edu.au/100206/students-2006-1/smchew/pub/index.htm

Why I luuuurve academic essays/assignments

2006-05-31T06:37:00.000-07:00

10) Because it allows me to make full use of the library resources. My room is crammed now. I paid nearly $400 for services and amenities fee, I should make damn good use of it.

9) Because it allows me to suck up to my lecturers and tutors when discussing essay topics and possible ideological arguments.

8) Because whatever you write in it is most probably useless in the future. So you don't have to retain the information in your brain.

7) I have the rare opportunity to indulge myself with coffee and lose sleep over it.

6) So I can get a new 'look'; I heard that pimples-enhanced-complexion is the current trend.

5) So I can let my nerdy side go crazy with delicious terms like 'post-structuralism', 'discourse' and 'hegemony'.

4) Because I have the right to tell people that I can't talk to them, go take your problems somewhere else, I'M LOVINGLY COMPOSING AN ESSAY, CAN'T YOU SEE?!?

3) It allows me to legitimately skip meals and lose weight. Without people complaining I'm too thin, bla bla bla...

2) I can sit in my heated room all the day (and night) long. No need to freeze in examination halls.

1) Ze feel of paper and ze smell of ink is...mmm. Ze best, my friend!

On Air. You're listening to SYN 9-0-7

2006-05-23T02:21:00.000-07:00

Melbourne Uni's media collective have started a radio show called S.P.I.T. Don't ask me what it means, I forgot. After a few weeks of preparation on segments like news, comedy, arts and reviews, the show aired for the first time today on community radio station SYN, bandwith SYN fm, 90.7....so if you're in Victoria (Australia), tune in. It's on Tuesdays, 2-4pm.

Anyways. I popped by the SYN studios today to take some photos of the nervous presenters, Ben and Hagen, stressing out, I caught them fumbling with CDs on the desk, headphones dangling on their necks, pushing buttons and going..."ok, what's next? Are you gonna talk about that song? How bout this song?" Perhaps they weren't too pleased I showed up with a camera but they let me sit in anyway.

Two other segment presenters for pop culture and review was sitting outside, waiting for their turn to come in and talk. But inside, the announcers were screwing up certain bits and I just sat and laughed. We grimaced when some songs had the 'f' word in it, because they didn't give a language warning. We just broke one of the station rules.

Then once Hagen hit the 'off' button on the CD volume by accident and the song halted for 1-2 secs...on air. Ben switched it back on--"What the hell are you doing??!" We were laughing our faces red, to Hagen's exclamation "I can't BELIEVE I did that!!"

After they recovered from that mishap, they put on a comedy segment...only to have a girl come into the studio 3 minutes later. "Guys? What happened? You're off-air."

"WHAT?!"

"The back-up music is playing....you must have had dead air for 7 seconds or something."

So the guys scramble to cut the segment and play some music to get back on air. Just then, a call comes in.

"You....the managers are gonna be mad at your foul content!"

Hagen's eyes nearly pop out and he swings around to face Ben and I. His face was pale for a moment. This was probably the worst imaginable thing to happen, get your show ticked off even from its debut airing. We all read Hagen's panic on his face and held our breath-for a few secs. Because then Hagen broke out laughing. It was just one of our production editors playing a prank.

WELL. What a day.

CONSPIRACY

2006-05-08T03:23:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the 8.34pm Lame News Network. The top story today;

Melbourne University's media and politics lecturer thinks that we're all DOOMED to be doped by the LIES perpetuated by the elite who flirt with the media as a means to an end. Beware people, be afraid. Is our government REALLY doing things in our interest?

Today, on Lame's exceedingly-self-centred news, I bring you Dr. Boring Wanker with a case study of war coverage pertaining to Iraq, another thorn in the side for the Bush and Blair administration.

In 2003, someone leaked a few photos of 'British troops' in Iraq wearing uniforms, abusing two Iraqi teenagers, to The Spam tabloid newspaper known for it's anti-Blair stance. The editor decided to run the pictures. However, investigations were later carried out to gage it's authenticity. It was a very thorough investigation headed by Spot-the-Difference experts as it boiled down to micro aspects such as the insignia on the jackets and the what kind of buttons were on the shirts. It was found that the insignia and buttons in the photos were not the same as those in the regiment posted there at that time. So the photos were faked.

Ms. Busy Body, who wrote about the pictures, resigned in disgrace and other authentic stories and photos of abuse never really made it into the media again. The media was effectively silenced by fear.

"It was a brilliant piece of manipulation," said Dr. Wanker. "The Government KNEW beforehand that there will be potential stories on troops abusing civillians and therefore leaked fake pictures to the media, knowing experts will pick on it later and prove them fake."

Prime Minister Tony Blair was unavailable for comment.

This is Sarah Chew, reporting from Physiology Building, Tute Room 116. Lame News Network.

My Brisbane trip

2006-04-24T21:18:00.000-07:00

OK, since everyone is asking me what I did in Brisbane, here's a summary.

1) Beach (man made, just looking at it)
2) Sun
3) Movie World
4) Beach (real beach, just looking at it)
5) Sun

It was 28 degrees on most days. Good if compared to Melbourne, not good if you are walking up the hills. Brisbane is full of hills. Bad for driving a manual rented car too and we probably did a 100 three point turns and U-turns.

The city wasn't much, although it had a 'beach' and laidback feel to it. Heck, even the city had a man made beach. It's probably the sun and architecture. Gold Coast had more excitement. We went to Movie World and Surfers Paradise where the real beach is. Rented a car and drove around, which was kinda fun. Highlights were screaming on the Superman roller coaster, picnic by Surfers Paradise beach, meeting my bro who was there, and being around friends who graciously took us around the quaint shops and restaurants. Oh! And some woman in Surfers Paradise grabbed my arms and made me dance in the public square to the music of a busker who impersonates Elvis, while my dear friends stood close by and laughed. Look, they could at least have taken a photo if they didnt want to help me escape, but NO, they just stood and laughed.

We didn't go swimming or surfing or watch dolphins. Not even close. I didnt even touch seawater. What we did do was walk around, eat food, wave at Bugs Bunny and Batman, and watched planets in some space adventure thing. Oh well.

I am a racist

2006-04-06T02:34:00.000-07:00

I was just thinking. If you are proud of your country and dedicate yourself to it's cause, you are a nationalist. If you are proud of your femininity and fight for women's rights, you are a feminist.

So what if I'm proud of my race and purpose to further its cause? Am I a racist?

No. It seems that you are a racist if you are prejudiced against other races. But aren't we all inherently racist in some sense? Ok, Malaysians and Singaporeans will *understand* me if I throw out some stereotypes like Chinese=cunning and $$$ minded, Malays= lazy, Indians=somewhere-out-there, marginalized (for Msia, at least). I don't mean to offend people, but look: nearly everyone, from our grandmothers' generation to our generation, think that way. Heck, even Mahathir thinks that way.

So ok, I might be kinda racist when I'm in Malaysia. But perhaps when I'm here in Melbourne, I might be either an Asianist or a White-ist, depending on context. I'm Asianist when some white person asks me "Oh! You can speak English?" (me: yes, perhaps even better than you) or when some guy yells "Go back to China, you #$@%!" but I can be White-ist when I hear a fellow Asian speaking such broken English/Manglish/Singlish/whatever in tutorials that I want to hide in embarassment.

Well, 'racism' is the in thing now for the Aussie media. Everyone is talking about what it means to be Australian and immigrants should get lost if they don't like the 'liberal' values. Here's an interesting website: http://www.news.com.au/story/0,10117,18362839-421,00.html

Face it. You're some '-ist' too.

My greatest enemy

2006-03-30T05:27:00.000-08:00

Here I am looking at job and internship openings.

I'm trying to psyche myself up in my head to apply for them. What could go wrong anyway? So many opportunities have come my way and I overlooked them because I have always successfully convinced myself that I don't fit the bill, I don't have the necessary skills, I don't have time. I've got too much on my hands, I found myself saying again this time.

Enough. I should stop this and just go for it, Carpe Diem! they say. It's my last year in Melbourne,I should make the most of it.

Life is short--I know that. From friends' relatives dying, to babies short-lived, to watching a video on abortion where the foetus' head gets dismembered, to listening to survivors of the Holocaust. From the doctor advising to abort me 22 years ago, to the 6-yr old me hitting her head on the monsoon drain, to me screaming "NO! God, No!!" in the car last year before it crashed, hands symbolically over my head defiantly telling God that my time has not yet come. And He knows it has not come. I'm here for a reason.

I could have died in many ways...and yet I'm here, living, breathing, able bodied, relatively unscarred.

Oh gosh, how did I come to this :p

I guess the point I'm getting at, is since I have a chance at life, why not make the most of it? Why do I keep worrying about not meeting people's expectations, about appearing stupid, about a 100 other things?

Today my enemy isn't my circumstance ,or demons, or people. My enemy is myself.

What animal am I?

2006-03-21T21:16:00.000-08:00

My friend calls me a rabbit.

So far, I have been called a swan (understandably because of my name), a hamster (because I am small, ahem, petite) and a white tiger (whatever that means). Anyone cares to add to that list?

I think the next time we give our friends 'how well do you know me?' tests, we should include the question "What animal do you think I am, and why?"

You'll be surprised to see what they think of you. But if you're planning to say someone is a cow, you'd better give a damn good reason why you think so :p I nearly got away with that one.

Moomba: having fun together or 'up your ass'?

2006-03-14T00:39:00.000-08:00

Moomba. It's the name of the 'water' festival in Melbourne that happens every year--ironically, its has no historical significance to do with water, and there is no particular reason to have this festival. It's just for fun, literally.

According to an official touristy website, moomba means 'to get together and have fun.'

I was supposed to 'cover' this festival yesterday for the international student mag and RAGE (hopefully that turns out well, at least they pay for articles!). So I dragged myself out of bed and from the moment I set foot outside, I could tell it was a pretty big thing 'cuz a television network vehicle with satellite dishes attached drove past me.

Reached the city, the main streets (yes, Melbourne can afford to do such things) of the city were blocked and the crowd was starting to build. I squeezed in till I nearly got to the front, camera ready in hand.

OK, so there were brass bands, clowns and people on stilts and in weird costumes, music, dancers, multicolored floats and stuff you will expect in a parade. Noise and laughter, children with their Mummies and Daddies asking lots of questions, Asian looking tourists with their bulky cameras, police and security personnel. There were floats with Hawaiian hippies playing guitars, some white swan, some walking trees and guys in gas suits to raise awareness of environmental issues, a playschool celebrating her 40th anniversary (I dunno why this particular float is so important, but it was mentioned in all the newspapers. I suspect money talks) and etc. A group of Hare Krishna followers walked past chanting, Chinese, Cambodians and Indonesians dressed in all sorts of cultural costumes twirled their arms gracefully, a gang of taekwondo fighters showed their moves. Schools (yes, educational institutions) of brightly colored fishes and jellyfish went past, so did big stuffed chickens. None of these things need to make sense in relation to the organisation they represent, I noticed.

Everyone was basically out to have fun. In the previous years, other major events would be held over 4 days- like waterskiing spectaculars, the Birdman rallies where ppl create plans that fly off ramps, a carnival with crazy rides, various other events to do with fun and water and it usually ends up with fireworks at night. It coincides with Labour Day, so why waste an opportunity to spend money on floats, send some fireworks off, stop the main traffic and tram lines, let the whole world spill unto the streets and let's Moomba!

I found something interesting though. Some people are speculating on how the name Moomba came about. Popular folklore has it that in 1955 when this started, the council approached an elderly Aboriginal and asked for his opinion on naming it. It seems that he decided to make the whites a laughing stock, by giving the name Moomba, 'moom' (mum) means 'buttocks' or 'anus' in various Victorian languages and 'ba' is a suffix that can mean 'at', 'in' or 'on'.

Well, the Aboriginal people sure must be laughing now.

As a side note, I wonder if any of this has to do with water. Try not to think dirty ok??

Why Asians don’t write

2006-03-04T06:45:00.000-08:00

Now. This entry is my rant (albeit a mild one after two edits), so if you’re reading this, don’t start getting personal—this isn’t a personal attack on anybody.

Farrago is Melbourne University’s official magazine. I was (yes, past tense, because I’m hoping it’ll change this year) the ONLY Asian/international student in the community of active writers, and the only one in the editorial team. I started thinking, why is this so? 10,000 internationals in this uni—95% of which are Asians, and Media and Communications (my course) is SWAMPED with Asians. So what is the matter?

Here are a few possibilities:
1) Asians are too shy, they feel intimidated
2) The Aussies are racist
3) There is a secret movement to deny equal rights to international students
4) Asians don’t know Farrago exist (uni is strictly about books and exams, they’re ignorant of everything else)
5) Asians don’t understand Farrago, it’s Greek to them
6) Asians are too busy—shopping, DVDs and DOTA takes up time

Most of the above are correct to some degree, except number 2 and 3 (I think!)

But guess what? I think I know another possibility. Asians just couldn’t be bothered. These are some reasons my friends always give me;

Friend: Oh! Farrago is just so good, I could never write that well.
Me : Did you try?
Friend: Erm, no…but I would really love to! I don’t know much about their culture and politics and all that, sigh….
Me : Huh, haven’t you been here, like, ages?
Friend: Yeah, but you know, I don’t read the papers (its so boring!), I don’t see the news on TV….etc etc…anyway, how do you start writing for them anyway…
Me : Well, don’t you see posters everywhere? Why don’t you just see the editors in the office?
Friend: Ha? Oh no, so scary!

Argh. And to think these are people who wanna be somebody in the media world.

Note: This scenario is perhaps more accurate in Melb Uni and universities in Western countries rather than Asian countries. If I may add; if you’re an international student, your fees are so damn high, make the most of it, you *@sponferluted goblok#*!

The Second Shock

2006-03-03T05:47:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, it was news of a death. Today, it is news of an engagement.

MY HOUSEMATE IS ENGAGED!!!!!!!!
*cue...flowers! confetti! violins and doves, yadayadayada*

I went out for a late dinner at an Indian 'mamak' with some friends today (it's not a mamak by our standards because it closes 11.30pm, but that's Australia for you).

I got back at nearly midnight, the apartment was still empty. Which is pretty normal for a friday night as I'm usually hanging out with friends and my housemate would be galivanting somewhere with her boyfriend. The rubbish was piling up. Sigh. Thought I'd better clear it and do my bit for apartment cleanliness--these sort of things help in maintaining the harmony, ya know.

So anyway, with my hands clutching rubbish bags, I walked down the stairs just while my housemate and her darling were making their way up.

"Sarah!! Look!"

She thrusted her left fist into my face (not literally, more like...waving her fist) and lo and behold: a big beautiful diamond ring nestled snugly on her slender fingers.

I looked at my rubbish bags, then looked back at her beaming face.

"OH!...congrats!" My mouth was hanging open. Hands still clutching bags. "Wow! congrats congrats!" Looked at her fiance then looked back at her. "Wow, like, congrats!"

It's quite annoying that at times like these, even a communications student such as I are stumped for words. My brains just refused to think of more eloquent praises for the blissful couple.

After a few seconds of repeating 'congrats', I ran out to throw the rubbish while they patiently waited at the door so that I could photograph them together in the apartment.

After the phototaking session, I was busy interviewing them. How did he propose? Where did you go for dinner? Was it a surprise? It was a nice restaurant by the beach, they said, with the view of the sea as the sun set. Candles and wine and music, all the cliched things you can imagine. He wanted to propose over the intercom system, but the restaurant didnt have one. So he took her for a walk and went on his knees on the sand.

Then I asked her the golden question,

"How did you know he was 'the one'?"

And here is the profound answer, take note ladies and gentlemen *drumroll* "You just know."

Wow.

The Valley of the Shadow of Death

2006-03-02T00:28:00.000-08:00

My friend's mother died yesterday. Cancer.

I got the message on my mobile this morning from Liang. He is the same guy who told me, a few weeks ago, that the father of another mutual friend of ours had died.

I feel really bad for these, my friends. I really really do. Liang would have attended their parents' funerals, but I can't--for one reason or another. This time, it's because I'm overseas.

I'm so sorry.

HG, I just want to be there for you. I know perhaps nothing I say now really matters, it won't take away the grief, but at least you know that your mum is in a better place.

Take heart.

Uni started today!

2006-02-26T21:59:00.000-08:00

Today is the beginning of a new uni semester. And it started with my room phone loudly ringing at 10am.

My friend ALWAYS does this to me. She prides herself on being the more efficient alarm clock even when I don’t need one— 8am on Saturday mornings, for instance. Anyway, this time she needed to gripe to someone about how she doesn’t want to go to uni anymore. A perfect start to my day.

I had two lectures from 11am to 1pm. In true Sarah fashion, I went in about 5-10 minutes late. Hey, I’m a usually punctual person but seriously, living 200 metres away from the university building itself does things to you. After the first hour of politics, Michel Foucault, left wing, right wing, liberal democracies…and the second hour of a rundown of what we can expect in regards to hypertexts, FTPs and Dreamweaver, I started to think; wow, I really need to get a hang of studying again.

I suddenly realized how different this year is compared to the FOB (fresh-off-the-boat…Aussie slang for newbies. PS: please do not use this just on anyone, it can be considered offensive for obvious reasons) first year student I was. I noticed that I bump into someone I know every hundred metres while walking around in campus (Note: this doesn’t happen very often, it’s just that it’s the first day of the new semester). The editor of the international student magazine chanced upon me and promptly summoned me to a meeting on Thursday and to go check my email.

After eager snatches of conversation here and there, catching up with people I haven’t seen for a few months, I had to rush off to a writer’s meeting for the University magazine and Media Club. I had this guilt trip going for the entire meeting because I had been Missing-In-Action for 3 months, and heck, I’m suppose to be the sub-editor. I had ABSOLUTELY no idea what was going on. To add salt to the injury, the editors kept referring people to me and my co-editor for information. One of the editors approached me to sniff up 5 international FOBs for an interview, to set up a new column. “By the way,” he says, “the deadline’s this Friday. Meet me in the office at 3pm later.”

Brilliant. I’m SO loving this.

A disheveled Indian man approached me today. He was carrying a stack of books from the Left Behind series and carried around this placard that said “I’m a Christian missionary. I can’t speak English properly. I need some funds bla bla…” I really hate situations like this, not because I despise the man, but because I don’t know what to do. Is he really what he says he is? Why is he here in Melbourne University? Why does he need the money? Why doesn’t he search for Christian organisations that can help him?

Not to sound antagonistic, but I really wonder what people think of God when they see him. Can’t God take care of His servants? But perhaps the same arguments could be made of Buddhist monks, but it seems that giving to them is like giving to God.

He wouldn’t leave me. And my conscience played tricks on me. So I gave him some spare change and took one of the books out curiosity.

What would you have done?

Tssh, airports!

2006-02-23T22:15:00.000-08:00

There is something about me and airports. We don't get along well with each other.

SO, why is that, you ask? Well, when I went to the airport to fly off to Melbourne last year, I brought my NEW passport. But the check-in counter people told me that I do not have a valid visa on the NEW passport so did I bring my OLD one? I didn't and so I was frantically running up and down KLIA trying to get them to call Canberra to tell them yes, I do have an e-visa and I'm not a terrorist. I got through.

This time, my crime was not bringing my NEW passport. I must have been dreaming when I picked up my OLD and expired passport (and can you believe it, I was actually staring at it wondering why it was chipped at the side) and off we went to the airport. Only to be told I was to show them my NEW passport. So I had no choice but to book the next flight to Melbourne while my family and I went home to look for my NEW passport. ARGH.

But when I got home, I thought, I need to do something to cheer myself up. So the first thing I did was to call my friend, TC. Needless to say, he was very very shocked and thought, what the hell did he do to warrant a call from my house phone and probably my parents. And of course, he couldn't stop laughing at me after I told my story.

THEN, I had another idea (Muahahaaa....). I decided to prank call my work collegue, M. This should work, I figured, since he 1) doesn't know my house phone number and 2) he is not familiar with my parents. SO I called his mobile and tuned my voice a few tones higher, complete with the auntie-like "ah" and "ohhh". It went something like this;

Me : Uhm, ahh, is this, uhm...(name)
M : Yes, yes?
Me : Oh hi, this is Suan Mei's mother ah. You are my daughter's work collegue right?
M : Oh! Uhm, yes. Hi...uhm...
Me : Sorry for calling so late ya...uhm (M: Oh no, auntie, its ok!) I just want to ask ah, I heard my daughter saying, about the job salary ah, has your boss paid you all yet?
M : No, uhm, we're in a bit of a difficult situation right now, just try to understand....

So anyway, I kept this up for like, 10- 15 minutes when finally I couldn't take it. I was like, "Oii, it's me." M was confused, "Sorry?"

"It's me la, Sarah..."

"What? Where are you now?"

"I'm at home"

"Who was that just now?"

"Me la!! hahaha..."

Silence for 3 to 4 seconds. And finally M finds the voice to speak.

"I HATE YOU!!!"

Hah. Mission complete. I mean, come on, since I have to endure such bad luck as I have mentioned, I might as well make the most of it.

He left

2006-02-19T08:08:00.000-08:00

Mum's fussing over his bag and sorting out his shirts...does he have his passport? yup, check. His camera? Check. Air tickets? Check.

I'm standing around listlessly wondering what to do. Already both parents are trying to help him pack and having one more pair of hands to do the job seems ludicrious, but I ambled over to look through his electronic items anyway.

Mobile phone messages keep coming in. All these girls wishing him all the best with some sweet *ahems* in between. I shake my head. Gone are the days of his childhood when he used to vehemently declare he hated girls and would never marry. Heck, he can hardly get them off him now.

Today was a blur. We both slept late and struggled to keep awake in church. Friends gathered around to support him afterwards, the prayers and the usual slaps on the back...the laughter, the advice. Over lunch someone made a comment;

"You both are so close. Have you two ever fought?"

We look at each other. Amused. Oh yeah we fought when we were little--he used to throw toys at me and I remember slapping him once. And trying to hush his crying afterwards for fear of my parents' fury. I suddenly recall random events of the past. Like how our family drove to a Macdonalds drive-through on the way to church. All five of us happily ordered our meals through the microphone and drove round the other way to collect them and- of course, pay. Except we ALL (coincidentally, I assure you) did not bring our wallets/purses. SO we sheepishly told the woman at the counter that we didn't have any money. She took one glance at five of us in the Audi and raised her eyebrows, mouth slightly agape. Later that night, we had to borrow some money from Dad's friend to get us some dinner. AND we also got caught by a traffic policeman for speeding...but were not able to show any forms of identification. Heh :p

Hey, let's have a thumb war...'1, 2, 3, 4, I declare a thumb war!!'

The car rambled along on the familiar route to the airport. There we go again, playing this childish game since we were kids. But it'll be a number of months before we can poke each other in the ribs and play thumb wars in the car.

KLIA is a huge airport. We walk around, grab a light meal and a drink. People everywhere...with friends, with family, with special someones. I give him a run down of things to watch out for, things to keep in mind. Watch your back, I tell him, not everyone is trustworthy. And grow up, man!

He's leaving now. Waves, goodbyes, more prayers, and 'yes, I'll be fine, mum, it's just 6 months!'. I can't believe he's 18, we were kids a moment ago. Now we're all leaving the nest. I'll be the one saying my goodbyes in 3 days.

It's raining now outside the airport. He's left.

Forgive me. I've fallen.

2006-02-17T02:08:00.000-08:00

When will I see him again?

It's great to have five senses. I'm very thankful.

But now when I hear that music, I can hear him humming in the background.

When I smell coffee, I can hear his spoon stirring in the cup.

I picked up a letter and saw that it was stamped. There was a stamp on his table too.

Go away go away go away.

He doesnt care anyway. So why should I?

I really can't stand myself sometimes....I thought I was stronger than this.

The Underworld

2006-02-07T02:13:00.000-08:00

I just heard a tape about a guy who got taken down to hell and came back to earth. "23 minutes of hell" is the title.

OK, now before you start getting cynical about whether this is just another proselytising material to scare people to conversion, hear my thoughts. I believe in heaven and hell and angels and demons and bla, I practically grew up with the Charismatic movement and exorcism (yes, people screaming and jumping around and all that), and looking at all the mediums and mysticism going on, there has to be some supernatural world. Perhaps if you grew up in my background, you'll understand. I saw heaven when I was 11, but that's another story altogether.

So anyway, this guy was talking about the stuff he experienced and saw in hell...and I kinda believe it wasn't a nightmare or anything. First of all, it took a year for him to get over the trauma--and hearing his story I can see why. It's absolutely horrifying times a thousand, and even that is an understatement. And secondly, it was described by 400+ verses existing in the Bible already about hell which these people (and I bet most of you) didnt previously know about. Thirdly, which provoked me to think deeply, was how other peoples' experiences of hell that I've heard or read before (and they have no connection with each other) were actually similar. Like, freakingly similar. Then last night by accident I saw some really old paintings on the net (must be like...16th century or something) depicting people in hell, and my gosh, the way it was so similar to all these accounts were quite scary. Right down to the torture method of the demons and how they looked like. And these paintings are not famous, it was some obscure middle east paintings and european paintings.

I was thinking of uploading it but now I cant find the picture. And besides, its *sensitive* material at the moment, I might get bombed for it, heh. Go figure.

But it's certainly food for thought.

I still remember

2006-01-25T20:56:00.000-08:00

You said
this is the last time we'll ever meet
It's funny
how history repeats and returns to haunt me
I had a friend
he made me laugh
he made me cry
he sat beside me and thought I was an angel
till I realised I could not be
what he wanted
and we spoke not
for years, and years...
Now, only scars and superficial smiles remain.
I have you
you made me laugh
now all that are left are tears
You sat beside me and thought I was an angel
till I realised I could not make myself become
what you wanted.
Your fingers are at my lips now
and you say we should speak not
for many, many years to come
till time heals the wounds
and leave behind superficial smiles.

But oh, don't you know?
My wounds have not healed
because time stops when I think of you.

Singing lessons

2005-11-30T03:43:00.000-08:00

Breathe in. Breathe out. Not in your upper chest, fill your bottom part of your lungs! Use your diaphragm!!

The teacher goes over to the piano and hits a key. I breathe in (which feels like taking air into my stomach...and worse still, my tummy is making weird noises because it is empty. That's because I had diarrhea earlier but I'll spare you details) holding my lower stomach and sing "aaaaaaahhhh...". Another key. "Aaaahhhhh..."

No no. Think high.

Okay. I try to think high. "Aaaahhhhh....". I don't hear a difference but she seems satisfied. After a few more higher keys the teacher asks me to think low instead (whatever that means). So here I am concentrating and meditating on all things low.

Sit on the key. You know...just imagine you're sitting down. Push down. Here, put your hands up in the air and 'push' down when you sing. It helps you concentrate. Twist your head, relax those vocal chords.

So I shake my head from side to side like I'm in dissapproval, but its suppose to help me relax my vocal chords. I follow her and flap my hands up and down by my sides like a bird while singing 'aaaahhh'.

Pull it up to the front! *points at the side of nose*. See, right now you're singing from the back *points to back of head* and so it sounds airy. Bring it out, throw your voice out!

I frown in concentration. Breathe till my stomach expands, think low, sit on the key, flap hands up and down, sing from the 'front'. Got it. "AAaaaaaaaahhhhhh!"

Yes yes. That's better. So you shall practice this for the week ok? Do you want more singing lessons? That'll be RM100 per lesson thanks.

Gobbledygook; a nonsense word for wordy nonsense

2005-11-02T07:08:00.000-08:00

I am in the state of irritation hitherto, descrying acrimoniously the disconcertingly unbearable excessive molecular vibration of the air. This situation is compounded by the absence of air movement, thereby facilitating the stagnation of warm air within confined spaces. At this moment hereof , such incondusive circumstances has resulted in mental incapacitation and disablement of rational thought processes in respect to processing input therefore producing the consequence of incomprehensible output. Hence the utilization of malapropitation and blunderbusses of yours truly to smear your conscience and while away that precious asset of yours called time.

Basically—the weather is so hot that my brains are fried which causes me to do stupid things like write about it and waste your time reading it.

Isn’t quite amazing how people write really superfluous stuff just to sound intelligent? I found this funny example, a parody of this issue. Consider;
Matt 16: 15-17
Jesus said unto them, “Who do you say that I am?”
Peter said, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”
And Jesus replied, “Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah, for flesh and blood hath not revealed this to you but my Father in heaven.”

Insert gobbledygook—
Jesus said unto them, “Who do you say that I am?”
They replied, “You are the eschatological manifestation of the ground of our being, the ontological foundation of the context of our very selfhood revealed.”
And Jesus replied, “What?”

Songs of Solomon 8:6

2005-10-09T07:34:00.000-07:00

Set me as a seal upon your heart,
as a seal upon your arm;
For love is as strong as death,
jealousy as cruel as the grave;
Its flames are flames of fire,
a most vehement flame.

A song, a poem, a verse--a mantra almost.

It hangs boldly above my bed
watching over my sleep through the night.
Beautiful words, pleasing to the eye
but I never asked how, I never asked why
and perhaps, never set seal upon my heart
until today.
I could not understand it, those potent words
arm. love. death. jealousy. grave. fire

Set me as a seal upon your heart....
His heart, the core, Him. My name upon His, His name upon mine. No height nor depth, nor memory nor guilt, demons or angels could ever change that.

a seal upon your arm....
Love to the point of slavery. Branded with fire upon the arm.

For love is as strong as death....
I deserved the punishment. It would mean I could not see Him forever. He could not bear the thought and stretched His arms- He would rather die. But now, all I can thank Him with is my life.

jealousy as cruel as the grave....
A dark grey day. A hill with 3 crosses. Via Dolorosa is a long and difficult road. It takes your life, just like it took His. It's either all or none.

It's flames are flames of fire, a most vehement flame...
It is warmth to a a cold lonely traveller. It burns impurities for the goldsmith. To early humans, and now still, it gives life.

It is passion. It is hope. It is necessary. It is powerful.
It is dangerous.
Love-
Suddenly...I understand it all.

Mundane discoveries

2005-06-07T05:51:00.000-07:00

It is a gloomy day today. It seems that the sun is undecided about its role and position, appearing every five seconds. Perhaps it is fighting with the clouds for air space. I have been thus kept inside my room for most of the day wondering if the grumpy old woman Weather will stop pouring rain every half an hour and let up on me.

Ah. Melbourne, Melbourne, Melbourne. Why is its weather so fickle? Perhaps it is because there are so many races and nationalities that have come from many foreign lands with different weathers. Maybe we all carry some form of cosmic power and unconsciously release our innate energies to control the skies. Or could it be that we each have our own ideas about the perfect weather and pray to our own gods they might be fulfilled? If so, the tumult in the heavens would be the clash of the gods.

Alternatively, it could just be that it is because Melbourne is near the sea. Hmmm.

I love to reflect back on my childhood and reminisce about the simplicity of it all. Simple things are lovely. Sure, I may be in university, possibly the most prestigious one in Australia as some would like to argue. Yet, sometimes, I still think I’m a child at heart. I like to create my own theories of the world which might not be true, but it is fun all the same.

Did you know that you can confuse ants? I spotted a trail of ants once and imagined that there must be some sort of scent to mark their ‘pathway’. How else could they always keep the trail? So I rubbed off a section of their invisible highway with my fingers. True enough, the ants were confused once they reached that point, many turning back towards where they came from. It would not last long though. There was always a smarty pants that would persevere till the other end of the disconnected highway was found.

Or try shining a torch light on an ant. It would stop in a daze for a few seconds and then start running in random directions, usually away from the light. Flash the light in various positions and it would run around in circles. Conclusion? It is not advisable for ants to go clubbing.

When I was seven, I discovered that ants were perfectly edible. My friend and I had a competition, in which my four year old brother was included. Whoever ate the most ants off the floor would be the winner. I can assure you, it’s much safer than eating cow testicles and a bowl of maggots on Fear Factor.

And do you know that bath liquid kill cockroaches in less than five seconds? It is even more effective than spraying insecticide on them.
I can almost picture you frowning. Perhaps I should have stuck to ants. I shall just be satisfied to wonder about Melbourne’s fickle weather for now.

Blame the Weather

2004-11-23T22:01:00.000-08:00

Hmmm. Its been ages since I last wrote, mainly because I wasn't into the blogging 'fad'.
But now, the weather is too nice to bury myself under thousands of chinese characters, it sucks to have an exam when all around you friends are celebrating their freedom. Jars of Clay is strumming up an acoustic symphony in the background and I'm looking out over the tops of chimneys standing in salute to the clear blue sky outside my window....so I decided to give myself a break.

It wasn't any different yesterday- same clear blue sky, as if it was beckoning me to come outside. I gave in finally, in a spur of the moment when a friend on MSN asked "do you wanna go out?" in 10-15 minutes, we (Ben, Derek, me) decided to go rollerblading in St Kilda. 5 minutes after that, we were in the car and there was no turning back.

It was a perfect day for rollerblading- except that Derek couldn't remember where to rent the blades from. He said it was a small shop somewhere along the road...he remembered it from 8 years ago. Great. So we walk aimlessly along the street and past cafes, then backtracked to the Beach Sports Centre where we started from. A guy said it was at the street where we WERE walking on, and we were back there again. Oh well, the sun was shining and we didn't mind.

Soon, we were strapping the blades to our feet and wobbling around murmuring "its been a long time...". All three of us have not touched it for about 7-8 years. The next hurdle was to cross busy intersections with traffic lights and cars- without killing ourselves and looking like total idiots. Not killing ourselves- pass, not looking like fools- fail. You can imagine, wobbling around, near falls and swinging our arms like drunkards in front of a few hundred people. We left our pride then and there. The rest of the day would only get crazier for me :p

We finally made it to the jogging and bicycling paths along the beach. Things was much more smooth-going and we got the hang of rollerblading soon after, although the guys had to always wait for me when I lagged behind. The scenery was beautiful, some paths came right up to the sea, with bushes and schrubs along the way. I was actually feeling quite contented to have the breeze on my face and being able to blade without wobbling. After45 mins, we decided to turn back, the blades had to be returned. Then it started. I realised I forgot how to brake.

The guys weren't prepared for it either. But you have to understand that I have not done this for nearly a decade, and it didnt cross my mind that I would need knee pads or helmets because-hey- I'm usually pretty adept at these things (denial). So I happily skated/bladed/whatever my way back and realised I was going faster than usual...and oh no! there is a pole...stop! stop! And then *wham*, landed on my palms. Not too bad. I only skinned my left palm a little. "I'm ok. Let's keep going."

Ben and Derek were trying to tell me to use the brake at the back of the blades, which I knew of anyway. But, for some reason, I couldn't do it. The guys were getting concerned and kept looking over their shoulders for me...everytime we came down a slope, they would glance behind. The next crazy thing we did was Derek's idea. He said we should use the pedestrian bridge. He skated up the bridge while me and a tired Ben literally pulled ourselves up using the railings. Needless to say, they waited mid-way while I struggled upwards as passerbys gave me sympathetic glances and asked "are you alright?". Soon, we had to go down the bridge.

All of us used the railings (there are less painful ways to end up in Emergancy units). Everything was ok till I came to the end. Not being able to brake, my blades kept rolling right under me and I fell on my back. Isssh. In front of all those tourists waiting at the bus stop. Oh well. I wanted to keep going. I shall not be stopped!

I few metres later...I crashed into a stone wall. Skinned my knee. I now have 2 scars on my left and 3 on my right knee. Then I gave up. We had to cross all those intesections again to get back to the shop, with more cars, and I couldn't afford to fall down in the middle of the road. So I took off my blades and walked barefoot to the shop, much to the amusement of the drivers, some of whom had half-smiles on their faces. I didn't care, I felt safe walking.

But I didn't take into account that I would step on bird shit. OK. So imagine- I'm bleeding (alrite, alrite, just a little bit) and walking barefoot, looking pathetic carrying my blades and now I have bird pooh on the sole of my feet. I'll never never forget this.

I should have brought my camera.

In the beginning

2004-08-26T05:00:00.000-07:00

I've always been a skeptic of these blogs....a waste of time and effort. But oh well, here I am at a place of learning...again :)