Hey Badawi, wassup!!

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

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

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.

.

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

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

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

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

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

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?"

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!

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.

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.

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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?