Blind Leadeth the Blind

November 1st, 2007 by rogueshadow

“We will have a programme called Batik in Space and we will also launch a programme called Roti Canai in Space to see how we can bring Malaysian delicacies up to the space station."— National Space Agency (NSA) Director General Prof Datuk Dr Mazlan Othman .

I got the shock of my life. Sitting(thankfully) in the new Popular Bookstore in Sunway Pyramid 2 with Ian, I was at lost for words, as was he. I couldn’t decide to laugh or cry. Or run out and kill someone. Or burn the Jalur Gemilang.

It was a mix of pleasure and (much, much) pain as I read Malaysian Politicians Say the Darnest Things Vol.1 by Amir Muhammad. Many were very stupendously idiotic statements made by politicians (much contributed by the goldmine of stupidity Mr Nazri Aziz) , but this one took the cake and slammed me in the face.

I realized just how dumb our politicians are, and how much funk we are in as Malaysian citizens. This Dr Mazlan Othman dude is the bloody Director General of our Space Programme, which is a joke to begin with. And he’s a fucking Professor. I know the kind of food you get in space. They come in little tubes, kind of like toothpaste. You know why? Because food in space is fuel for the astronauts. They’re necessities. Not delicacies. They sure as hell should NOT be cholesterol infested. And do you really want to shit all that curry out? You know the astronauts wear diapers, right? Are they getting teh tarik to go with that?

Seriously. The things they say in Parliament no less, baffles me. I had no idea people could be that dumb. Which makes me question "What the fuck are they doing running our country?".

"The Anti-Corruption Agency (ACA) has no powers to initiative investigations on reports and charges of money politics and bribery within Umno", said the de-facto law minister Nazri Aziz today.

Defending his statement that Umno members are immune to graft laws, de facto law minister Nazri Aziz said "this is because the party’s standards are higher than those stipulated in the Anti-Corruption Act 1997".

This scared the bejeebers out of me. First of all, WHAT party standards?! Second of all, only politicians can be charged for corruption or fall under graft laws. These crimes are not applicable to citizens. So if our politicians, not even all of them, exclusively the UMNO members are immune to this, than how is justice served? Nazri says they are only tried according to the party rules. Since when did the party overruled our laws and constitution? Article 8 of the Malaysian Constitution: All persons are equal before the law and entitled to the equal protection of the law. So how is this fair? Why was this passed? WHY are we silent?

Every time I read the newspapers, there are these little public responses, words on the streets. Take into account the questions asked, the demographics of the people who answer them, and the politics involved between the paper and the politicians. Newspapers that spoke the truth were banned, or had their license revoked like The Sun. What happened to Article 9: Every citizen has the right to freedom of speech and expression. We have the right to voice out, but we are either afraid, indifferent, or blind.

There are many brave Malaysians out there. Have we given up hope? A large part of me has. We have been ruled by the same party for 50 years. Democracy? Or Silent Dictatorship? Like V said in V for Vendetta(which is a fantabulous movie): People should not be afraid of their Government, the Government should be afraid of it’s people. Opposition parties are meant for check and balance in the government, but what happens when they voice out? We get people like Nazri Aziz shouting "Shut Up! Shut Up! Stupid, Shut UP!" IN FUCKING PARLIAMENT.

I am Malaysian. I’m proud of our hopes and dreams.

I’m saddened by our silence.

CinderElza

October 1st, 2007 by rogueshadow

LIke most red- blooded women, I love shoes.I like how I look more sophisticated and have a sexier walk when I wear heels. I adore shoes almost as much as I adore handbags. I’ve been envied by some over my dainty size four feet. There’s just one problem.

“Sorry, ah, Miss. Our smallest is size 5″.

At almost every fuckin label. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, I learnt that I’m a size 4 for flats. For heels, I’m actually a devastating size THREE.

Last Saturday, I went on our annual raya shopping trip my mom insists on. It was shoes galore at the newly opened Robinsons. I went through the repeated agony of picking a gorgeous pair of stillettos and face the cruel fate of either
a) No smaller size
b) My mom thinks they make me look like a skank
c) I can’t walk in them
d) I can’t jump in them
e) They cost RM 400

Finally, after an hour, I find a pair of sweet nude heels. They fit perfect, I can jump and dance in them, and it was only RM 109. Mom was happy and mouthed ” Those are LOVELY! (she couldn’t speak due to ulcers in her mouth from the chemo effect). Job well done, if I’d say so myself.

Then Mom goes “Now we go to Mid Valley to get you a black pair”.

Oih.

And in Episode 2—–

I asked mom if I could shop for my undies myself this time, instead of the usual accompaniment by mom. “Why? Elza takut I see what you buy, ke?” she asked. “No,” I said, half- lying. “It’s just that I’m already 20. And you have this habit of picking up a bra and loudly proclaiming ‘ AAH, THIS ONE LAWA, ELZA!’ “. So mom agreed. And since she couldnt speak during the day we went shopping, I was confident of my independence to go lingerie shopping.

Wheeling my mother (she was in wheelchair coz she was too weak to walk), we asked the sales assistant where the undergarments were. The helpful lady saw me wheeling mom, and offered to bring us to cusomer services for an escort. Cool, I thought.

We were brought to the Head of Security, who brought us through their security lift at the back where all the storage and cctv viewings are. I’m thinking “Whoa, class treatment!” I was very pleased with their helpfulness.

Untill they got a bit overzealous with their help. The Chief blasted through his walkie-talkie “Saya dengan Azean Irdawaty nih, anaknya nak cari bra, tolong escort. Ah, adik nak kat mana? Ok, bawak diorang ke Triumph”.

The whole women’s department AND the security knew I was looking for bras. And the BRAND I wear.

Karma thinks she’s funny.

Yes, I’m Still Alive

September 2nd, 2007 by rogueshadow

Oih. It’s been close to 4 months since my last post. Much has happened. Much to update. Brace yourselves!

There have been much highs and lows this past few months. Of course the main highlight of my life right now is my mother. In june, she was diagnosed with third stage breast cancer. She has since gone through a mastectomy and 3 chemotheraphy cylces. She has 3 more cycles to complete, and then radiotheraphy alongside a treatment using a drug called herseptin- her cancer is independent of her hormones, and thus themoxifan would not work for her. There’s also a higher chance of a recurrence. The drug costs RM 96 000. And since she is ordered to not work for at least 8 months, yours truly is now the main breadwinner of the family.

Since I’m in college, this whole bringing home the bacon thing is a lil tricky. And because I’m under scholarship, I’ve got requirements to fulfill- and fulfilled them I have! Yep, Lil Miss Diva here has once again obtained Academic Distinction with a GPA of 4.0 and a CGPA of 3.68. She received straight A’s, which puts her at the top of her school! Say what you want about the perils of pride, but I earned it, baby! The hours of making up for other people’s incompetence, the days when I had to deal with their prima donna attitude, and especially being away from my loved ones. IT WAS WORTH IT!

I guess someone is plagued with the green monster. I found my mug/flask (that I keep in the computer room I’m always working at, been there for months) in front of the girl’s toilet near a lil drain. Upon closer inspection, the mug seemed to have been thrown with great force, as there was an obvious dent in the mug’s base- made of steel. Now, if someone threw it out to clean the place, then it would be in the trash, not out at the end of the block. And no one else has access to the room other than the students of the department. Hey, what am I expected to do? I can’t help it if you’re stupid, or ugly, or think and act like a preschooler, or all of the above. I can’t help it if people compliment me about my looks now that I’ve put on some weight (2 kgs, baby! woohoo! I’ve got boobs!). You’ll just have to get the negativity out of your life and effing GROW UP. You’re in frikkin COLLEGE now.

After a long, gruelling semester, I was looking forward to a holiday. I thought I could work part time somewhere, get some money. But what Mom and I didn’t expect was the challenges she was about to face while undergoing chemo. Luckily, I DIDN’T get a job. I was able to not only spend time with Mom after practically half a year of being absent (my neighbour gave birth- the baby’s 5 months old now. I didn’t even know she was pregnant!), I was her full time caretaker. During 2nd week of any chemo cycle, that’s when her body is at it’s lowest state. After the first cycle, she once passed out and soiled her caftan. I was there, thank God, and helped her up, bathed her and all. And although Mom and I have a borderline strained relationship, I was glad I could take care of her. We grew closer. I even had sympathy pains.

And apparently it had affected me a lot more than I realized. On August 19th, I was admitted in the hospital for the first time in my life. I had infection in my intestines, leading to constipation (not very glamourous, kan?). But Mom was convinced it was also largely due to stress. I was worried about my Mom’s wellbeing once I strart college again. Being in hospital simply sucked. I was given 7 bottles of glucose in a drip up my hand. It felt like ice was going through my veins. I had to bring the stand with me everytime I had to go pee (which was often thanks to the glucose). When I was finally able to pass motion, I was so excited, like a lil kid who’s just learnt how to go potty. I tell you, we take for granted the little pleasures in life (yes, taking a dump is now a nikmat for me).

Right now, I’m rehearsing for my first graduating play- Kuo Pao Kun’s Lao Jiu. I do not, as of yet, find the play entertaining, but due to it’s physically demanding nature, I am now more fit and toned. After this 1 and a half month, I’d have a killer bikini bod, babeh! The performance is the week after the Raya weekend, so I only get 2 days off for Raya. Thankfully, I sorta outgrew the whole Raya joy thing. But this does mean I will drop dead in Ramadhan with all the crazy warm ups. Owwww….

Rest with Fishes

May 14th, 2007 by rogueshadow

Kino was only supposed to be my sound+image assignment. I said I was gonna either sell him back to the shop, or set him free. Either way, he wasn’t supposed to be my problem.

The stupid fish was so hard to shoot. He’d stay still until the point of the picture being taken, then he’d wriggle about in his bowl. Most of the shots I got was of a golden blob.

Came the time to give him up though, Kino and I had developed this love hate relationship. Suddenly I realized I didn’t wanna give him up. Plus Ian didn’t help.

Ian: If you set him free, he’ll get eaten. If you sell him off, some 6 year old will buy him and he’ll have a 2 days maximum life expectancy.

So I kept the lil’ bugger. My cat Ong got jealous (ok, he gets jealous of any other male beings in my life) and threatened to jump on the table and upset Kino’s fishbowl (well, technically Afiq’s bowl he lent to me). Everytime Ong slept in my room, I had to hide Kino in the bathroom.

I guess he was thanking me for saving his life. But I swear Kino started talking to me. He’d make bubbles on the surface everytime he was hungry, or when I oversleep, he’d wake me up by splashing about in the bowl (generally coz that means otherwise he’d have a late breakfast). He didn’t mind anymore anytime I dipped my fingers in the bowl to pet him. In fact, he’d swim over to kiss my fingers.

Sometime last week though, I found Kino swimming on the side of his body. I got worried and changed the water and fed him. When I got home that evening, he was still alive and swimming in the normal position, but was very weak. And he developed these black markings on the top of his body and head.

Last night when I got home, I found Kino floating lifelessly in his bowl. I ran for my sister and cried in her arms. I didn’t know I actually loved that stupid fish. I called Ian to inform him. Then I sat in my room with Ines and we stared at the bowl, me teary eyed.

Me: What do I do with him now?

Ines: What do people usually do to dead goldfish?

Me: They flush it down the toilet.

Ines: Aiyoh. What did we do to our fishes dulu?

Me: Flushed it down the toilet.

Ines: Why don’t you ask your friends who have kept goldfishes, ask em what they do.

Me: They told me to flush it down the toilet. It’s supposed to be fish heaven.

Ines: Tak nak tanam?

Me: It’s midnight. Tak nak tanam now. But I don’t want him to float dead in his bowl till morning either. I guess fish belong with water, kan? They’re always swimming in their own shit anyway.

So Ines and I prepared to flush him down. Ian called just then, and joined the flushing.

Ines: You wanna say anything?

Me: You first.

Ines: Ok…um, he was a good fish, and he grew on me. Thanks for helping Kakak with her assignment, and for cheering her up whenever she was down.

Ian: I don’t know what to say, I never knew him.

Me: I’m really sorry, Kino. I wish I was a better caretaker. We’ve had a lovely four and a half months. At least you’re not sick anymore. I’ll miss you. Goodbye, Kino.

And with a very heavy heart, we flushed Kino down the ceramic path. Ong consoled me, patted me with his tail and snuggled up to my feet. Ian called to comfort me. I felt better, and began letting go.

I washed Kino’s bowl this morning, and I felt thankful that Ian talked me out of getting rid of him earlier. I shared a unique bond with Kino that I thought was impossible with a fish.

Thanks for the Memories, Kino. Rest in peace.

It’s My Blog and I’ll Bitch if I Want to!

May 10th, 2007 by rogueshadow

Disclaimer: This is to set the record STRAIGHT. You can call it a defence, or a pathetic attempt at "clearing my image/name/career" whatever. But a lot of confusion came about regarding this subject matter, and whether or not you choose to believe me is your choice exactly. And for those of you who have a problem with it, a) If you’ve got a problem with me, what the fuck are you doing reading my blog for? And b) Reading this blog is voluntary. Believing my words are voluntary too. So deal with it.

Warning: Long rant ahead!

Before I left for L.A, we were lacking an assistant stage manager for Screwed. I suggested they take Ian in since he’s not doing anything and is familiar with theatre himself, but my director, K wanted to try someone a cast member suggested, and it was one of Ian’s best friends- J. She had once stage managed a semi major professional play in KL, so I agreed that she was more qualified in terms of experience to take on the job. I was also very excited as a friend that called herself Ian’s bigger sister, who called me "Kecil" and told Ian to take care of me was joining the crew.

Upon returning, I found out she was stage managing, as our stage manager left too. And we were assistant stage manager-less again. So I wondered why she didn’t call Ian since she always does when she needs stage hands. I was told they had other more experienced candidates. Fair enough, I thought.

I noticed however, she was very curt with me. When I called "Besar!" to her and hugged her, I received nothing back, except for a very cold "How was L.A?". This continued for a while. Whenever Ian dropped me off and said hi, he too was greeted with a cold shoulder. So, evidently something was making J upset, but she wasn’t telling us.

Now, I have no problems with people being pissed at me, whether or not they have just reasons for it. I don’t mind if they don’t want a confrontation, I myself was avoiding one because we were so close to performance week, I didn’t want to cause a rift. I do however, despise people who don’t wanna tell you straight what’s bothering them, yet at the same time go out of their way to show you they’re not talking to you. I mean, this person was not reading me my notes(she would push them to K-literally), she was not giving me my cues, did not notify me whenever there was a change in schedule, and if the cast were distracting, she wouldn’t say a word to them. Heck, she almost ran me over!

Maybe it’s just my imagination. I ride with K to and from rehearsals. One day, J and K’s car were parked really close. I was making some room in K’s car, arranging the back seat on the passenger’s side. She tries to get in her car, and instead of asking me to move or whatever, pushes the door behind me and practically shoves me into the car. And I know she saw me, coz she was looking directly in my direction. She then went into her car, and without waiting for me to get out of the way (which I did very hurriedly) reversed out and sped off. My foot was hardly out of the way!

So as much as I wanted to walk right up to her and give her a piece of my mind- I kept reminding myself of two things-

that a) the show is just around the corner, and b) she’s Ian’s friend. In fact, I kept apologizing to Ian for I felt that if there was a rift between them, I probably had something to do with it.

Then one night, in the middle of rehearsing my scene- I had a spasm attack. I get these regularly, either caused by gastric pains, cold environment, stress or sometimes totally at random. Last time I performed at KLPac for Shape of Things, I had an attack, and nearly did not perform. Once it was so bad, I was rushed to the Sunway Medical Centre (the attack happened in coll) and 3 docs examined me. One of them a specialist. They didn’t know what to do. They told me to wait it out. It just so happens that Ian had experienced first hand how to handle the situation whenever I get an attack. As a matter of fact, I had most attacks when I was with him, well, he happened to be with me at the time. Experience has taught him how to heal me. My family knows this, so they have no problem with him massaging my chest (general areas of attack also include my back and abdomen). He’s had more experience than anyone else. It was one of the reasons the producers of Shape of Things made him part of the crew, so he can be my medic backstage. A good thing he was too, or I would have had to miss that one show. I had informed K of my health condition, and if anything were to happen to me, that Ian is my person of emergency. Heck, Faridah Merican knows the situation, my mom herself spoke to her.

I don’t know if K had informed the producer, C or J. But when I had that attack, I reminded him of my conditions- this was after J had announced of the backstage tags and how she doesn’t "wanna see any other faces except for you people". I told K we should observe the first 2 days at KLPac. The place is super cold(I had to keep my teeth from chattering when I performed Shape of Things), I was wearing revealing clothes which would make it colder, and in addition, J’s attitude would definitely put me under stress. It’s a high- risk factor. So if for the first 2 days, everything’s good, then there’s nothing to worry about, since it would imply my body’s acclimatized to the cold. However if something did happen, then they must immediately call Ian. Whether or not a doctor was to be brought in, Ian had to be there to heal or explain to the doctor of my condition, since I can’t talk when I’m under attack. He should also be there for the next show(not even the whole of the next day)to observe me. Then whoever’s taking care of me could learn to read the signs of an oncoming attack. Plus, this way, anybody else from the production can observe first hand what to do, and would be able to handle it should I get another attack- Ian would not be needed anymore.

Of course, to observe or heal me, he’d have to do it backstage. The cast knows of my condition, and they know him. Ian is familiar with the rules of backstage. He would not even be entering the dressing room area, for I get ready in the Green Room (the hangout area for actors before a show or during intermission). So I think my request is pretty fair. It’s my health I’m concerned about. Irregular breathing causes cardiac arrest. It’s a serious problem.

What does J say? "No one else is allowed backstage." This was after my elaborate explanation to the cast and crew. "If he’s to be there in KLPac, doe this mean you’re bringing him to Penang?" "I don’t know, I’ve never been to Greenhall, " I said. "If he’s to treat you, do it outside". Ahh, of course. Get Ian to massage my breast in public. Sure! Coz they know of my health condition, kan? "How about the toilet?" someone suggested. Do you REALLY wanna get into trouble with JAIS? Ian’s a GUY in case anyone forgot. "How about in his car outside?" I can hardly breathe to talk, you want me to walk alla way outside?

"Why this exclusion? I’m a member of the cast, am I not?" I asked. They suggested a doctor to be brought in, but like I wrote/said earlier, Ian is needed to brief the doctor. And I said to J "I don’t think Imma put my health in the hands of the person who the last time I had diarrhea, after making me wait for 30 minutes, asked me to wait at the pharmacy for another half an hour because she was still CHATTING with friends. You give me reason to not trust you."

J then replied "This is KLPac protocol." I said "You know better than most people that rules were made for the reasons behind them. It’s the reasons that you must observe. There’s such things as exceptions. You learned this."

Miss C says "Conclusion- no one’s boyfriend, girlfriend, friend, whatever, is allowed backstage." J continues by saying "If she wants to insist, then I will to- it’s my way or the highway".

So I calmly replied- "Then you better start looking for your understudy. Coz I won’t be part of this show anymore. And let’s be honest, J, you’ve been like this toward Ian and I since I came back from L.A." J retorted " I’m being professional. If you wanna take it personally, that’s your problem." "Please," I said, "If you wanna be professional, you’d take care of your artiste’s well-being." And read their notes, and give their call times, and oh, NOT RUN THEM OVER!

I picked up my stuff and said my thanks and apologies to the cast. "Come on, El, wait a minute, let’s try to work this out" they said. And C says "She won’t be part of our play. It’s final." I went to Ian who was waiting outside for me with Adel. Some of the cast came outside to talk to me. "I’m not trying to be emotional, but I’m not risking my life for that kind of treatment from them. I’m really sorry, guys." Ian was pissed as hell. A cast member suggested this rehearsal studio upstairs in KLPac they can bring me to- "It’s private, and we can bring you up with the elevator". "Great, you should suggest it to them."

Later, I called R, the ORIGINAL producer (who also walked out on the production before I did, so something wrong was going on in Screwed, kan?), and he was saying that they were being idiots. "It’s suicide for a producer to say that 3 days before opening!"

At this point, I received a call from J’s phone, but it was K on the line. "We can’t bring you to that studio, coz it’s still considered backstage. But we’ll come to a compromise. What if we brought in a doctor to look after you?" he said.

WAS ANYBODY LISTENING?!

"Let me get this straight, you can bring in a doctor, who IS a stranger to the cast, the world of theatre, and my health condition, but no to Ian who is everything BUT a stranger? What’s the deal? NO, I do not accept. "

Then I hear J’s voice. "Anything else you wanna say, C? K? "

I was on loud speaker. What cowards.

"Elza, we are firing you from the production". How can you fire someone who had already quit? "If you ever get a job in this industry again, we wish you luck."

I laughed. "Thanks, J, but we all know that’s not true. I’ve been in this industry longer than ANY of you have. Good luck to you"

I went to watch the show with Ian. I was really proud of the cast. The people who replaced me were fabulous. I was so relieved. Congratulating them, I saw a friend of mine exit the backstage. He wasn’t part of the crew. "They needed my help, he said". TWO stage managers not enough? And you can get him a tag and add him as a crew member, but not Ian? If Ian were to be my medic, that makes him a crew member, just like the guy doing the lights.

I was also told of how C and another cast member, N were "always making out" backstage. And in Penang, two outsiders (J’s friends) stayed with them at the hotel and helped with the production. I don’t mind them getting help, but if they can include others like that, why exclusion with Ian and Me, a member of the cast?

Pure malice, is all I can think of. Nothing else makes sense. If only J knew how much she had hurt Ian. For that, I’ll never forgive her. She can’t hurt me, this industry knows my work, and knows me personally, I am not obsolete, far from that. But when she hurts someone I love like that, and a friend of hers at that, call me immature, but I WILL hold a grudge against her for that.

What goes around comes around. Better watch your back.

P/s: I told you it’s a long rant. Judge me all you want. This is my truth.

 

The Rookie Speaks

February 11th, 2007 by rogueshadow

“…and if you look at the next page, that’s the schedule for our performance in Penang…”

Ooh, coolness. We’d also be performing in Penang! —Wait, hold the phone. PENANG?!

Jeebus.

A wide eyed- “thank God I’m sitting down on the floor”- me felt my heart sank. No, wait… I thought, Maybe we’re not having any exams at that time, checking schedule… Haha, nope, Fate is still the same stone cold Bitch she was yesterday.

I was already preparing myself for the painstaking task of juggling college, work and Screwed, with my family and social life. I told myself that sacrifices need to be made, because I need this. I need Screwed to save my sanity. I was mustering whatever courage and strength in this tiny body of mine to face this challenge.

But, PENANG? On a very possible mid term evaluation week? On scholarship ? That’s one too many graves to dig.

Relating this to Kelvin and Melissa was like breaking up with a lover (a very new lover, but what can I say? TOS was love at first sight for me), and so I agreed to stay, provided I’ll be able to settle some kind of agreement with college during evaluation week.

And so I very nervously attended the first rehearsal. Ish.

We haven’t started working with the scripts yet. We did a lot of exercises to release inhibition: playing games, dancing and giving each other back rubs (Brana is gooood).

I was feeling great in my happy bubble when Kelvin decides to burst me back to reality.

“Why did you join us? What are your expectations? What does this mean to you?” Sitting across him in the circle, I tried my best to ignore the colossal guilt trip laid upon me. I swear, K, I’ll poke your blastid puppy dog eyes blind!

I joined because I plain wanted to. I was intrigued by their display of enthusiasm when I interviewed Kelvin and Reuben on TOS. (Plus, home was driving me nuts.) I expect an educating experience. All experiences are, but I hope to look back with a huge grin on my face instead of feeling any regret.

What this means to me? For now, it means a place where I’m welcomed. A place I belong to. Home.

Here’s to the tears, sweat, but hopefully not blood that awaits us. Looking forward to getting SCREWED.

Somebody Should Shoot Stupid Cupid

February 2nd, 2007 by rogueshadow

Aah…February. The month of lurrve…(although I don’t know who started that. It used to be just Valentine’s Day, now it’s the whole frikkin month). Don’t you just melt inside from all that leftover Christmas warmth creeping itself into your soul as you watch the lovers declare their love for one another to the whole world?

Bah.

There’s more honesty and truth in a Disney movie.

Welcome, one and all, to the commercial manipulation that is St. Valentine’s Day, where the florists raise the price of a rose up to three times its original value and men scatter to find the perfect box of chocolates only for their women to scream "I can’t eat those! I’ll get FAT!"

Ok, yeah, I’m using cliches, but they are cliches for a reason- they’re mostly true.

Now, I have absolutely no problem with love, or declaring it to the world, for that matter. Why, I myself have been in a steady relationship for 10 months now and am over the moon about it. Whatever the cynics may claim, there is no other feeling as beautiful as being in love. NOT EVEN CHOCOLATES.

Looking around me as I enter any shopping mall right now, I feel like I’m watching National Geographic, and it’s the Homo Sapiens during mating season—like cats rolling in catnip, they scout for the right cologne to drown themselves in, getting the perfect heart shaped card to fit in the perfect bouquet with the perfect chocolates for THE Perfect Woman, even if it’s for only one night.

Oh, GOD, I need to barf.

And for all this, I blame the women.

Thaaat’s right; the WOMEN. Why were tulips so fackin expensive? Women. Why was spice such a big deal? Women. Why are diamonds men’s worst nightmare? Because it’s a Girl’s Best Friend. Why are men broke after V-Day? WOMEN.

I mean, I admit it’s fun to watch them run around trying to figure out how best to woo us (which is hilarious because they don’t even understand US to begin with), but it is also cruel to advocate this. Besides, they might end up getting us gifts that totally backfire their plans, and could even resent us a little for that. And don’t give me that bullshit about "If they love us, they would do this for us". NO. If WE love THEM, we should shut up, be happy with what we have, cut them some slack and stop expecting things. (And if they still get us something special, well that’s a nice surprise you can truly enjoy).

And why only on this one day (or month) must both sexes go all out to ‘prove’ their love? What about the rest of the year? In my opinion, this is when all insecure couples lie to themselves and say "Yeah, we’re good, coz he got me perrdy bracelet." And the only ones who are truly happy are the florists, the confectionaries, the jewellers and Hallmark.

This Valentines, ask yourself if your relationship and love for the other is true and strong. Then only, if the answer is yes, do you declare it to that person using the cheapest but most honest method—plain telling and being with them. Every other day.

Lock up the Old, and Drag in the New!

January 3rd, 2007 by rogueshadow

Another Day. Just Believe.

A brand spankin’ New Year! It’s just another day, and Just Believin is not a walk in the park anymore. For that matter, it never was, except maybe during my childhood, whatever little there was of it. But, to ensure that Hallmark stays in business so I won’t have to panic to look for last minute Father’s Day cards, I’m gonna suck it up and join this whole festive fackin cheer, and share my new year’s resolution with y’all.

1.Let me entertain You! : I need to get a job. I’m still going to be in college studying, but college is fackin expensive, and I want to practice what I’m learnin in coll anyway,so step aside all Sharifah Amanis and Lydia Ibtisams… Elza’s comin thru.

2.Downplay the Drama: Yeah. I tell myself this every day of every year. But after spending New Year’s Eve on the surgery bed gettin stitched up, I’m gonna try my damned best to zen it. I mean, I’ve tried to before, but Fate’s the Miss Bitch Editor to my plans, and decides I need some spice in my life! So, for this year, my theme song should be… Don’t Cry Out Loud.

3.Work It Out: I am blessed with tiny genes. I can eat a horse without having to worry about looking like one (until I give birth to the 1st baby, then the fatness is full speed ahead to make up for lost time). But, I am not fit, at all. My stamina is that of my grandad, and he’s dead. Also, because I’m not gonna grow any taller (STOP LAUGHING!), I’ve been advised to “develop” my “assets”. I believe there’s hope. I mean, look at Shakira, Aguilera, Kylie…so I’m optimistic. I’m just also very lazy.

4.Read, Write, (Cash$$$) Rewarded: I’ve been told I have a flair in writing (PREEEEET! Nadia comes in wearing Grammar Police uniform and hands about 13 tickets for grammatical offences), and am hoping to write continuously for Kakiseni.com, probably several scripts, and other clients for the mulah. I just can’t write unless truly inspired. If only I could runaway to some cute cottage in the south of France, free from civilisation, and let nature inspire me. Alas, that is for now impossible. Ah, well, guess I just have to depend on cash to inspire me. MONEY, MONEY, MONEY!!!!!

5.Save it for a Rainy Day: Speakin of MONEY, MONEY, MONEY!!!!!, I wanna start savin whatever I get. I have a habit of overspending on food. When I’m loaded, I suddenly am hungry 24/7. So at the end of the day I end up fat and broke. This won’t do. Because being broke gets me depressed, and depression makes me hungry.

6.Unbusify Me: I’ve been a terrible friend when it comes to keepin in touch. It doesn’t help that my schedule gets tighter as our bonds get looser (oh, I hope not). Dean and my angel Rags have been there for me since Episode 1 of my dramatic life. You can’t buy friends like that. Well, maybe you can, but I get them for free! So it’s only fair that I make time for their drama too. Besides, at the rate things are going, I’ll need them close by me.

7.We’ve been Too Strong For Too Long: On the 8th of this month, Ian and I have been together for 9 months already. And it has not been easy for the both of us. But anybody who’s seen us or read my blog, will probably know that I’m not planning to give him up ever. I am guilty for not doing my best at making him happy, and I want to fix that. Ian deserves so much more, but since he’s a sweetheart enough to stick with psycho-bitch me, I wanna make it worthwhile for him. Besides, this is training ground for me if I’m gonna be Mrs Tracy ;p.

8.Love Me, Love Me: I am always too hard on myself according to Ian. I apologise too much, it must be annoying for him. I care too much about what people (and by that I mean my Mom) think. It’s time I pull my life together, and do what makes me happy. I’m turning 20 this year. I think I’ve been obliging long enough. (I still quiver inside, but with Ian next to me, anything’s possible. Except putting toothpaste back into the tube.)

So, to a New Year, a Fresh (hah.) Start, and Brand New Hopes, here’s wishing you all The Best in Your pursuits of Happiness this 2007 and years to come. Cheers!

Letters To My Mother-Chapter 2: Poetic License

November 26th, 2006 by rogueshadow

She picked up the seashell
And hoped to hear the Ocean
Her Mother had promised her she could.
She placed it to her ear
and listened, and listened,
And listened.
She thought she would hear
The last words of a beached whale
The Captain’s prayer when he sank with his ship
The mermaid singing her sad songs.
Instead she heard
Nothing.
Nothing, and nothing
And more nothing.
Like the star’s screaming silence,
Like the willow’s muted whisper,
Like her Mother’s guilty conscience.

*Penned during Malika’s performance poetry workshop.

Letters to My Mother- Chapter 1 : What I’ll Never Tell Her

October 29th, 2006 by rogueshadow

” What’s the name of that book you wrote? It was about your mother…”
“I Love You but Please Die.” - Stepford Wives.

You tell me I’ve lost my roots. That I’ve been whisked away by the ever tempting West and it’s ideologies. Has it ever occured to you that I do not want to be THIS tree? That maybe I cannot grow up to my full length if I stay planted in this soil?

My mother and I have very different outlooks on life (and thank God for that). From what looks good on me, what is right or wrong, to who Ian should be. These differences have been occuring more often lately, ever since Ian came into the picture, I have to admit. Ian has helped me see the world in a totally different way, and he also sees things in a similar light with me. There is a different life out there, and it’s ok. Sure it lacks sambal belacan, but there they have Tabasco! (and Tabasco is ALWAYS good. Ooh, accept on ice cream. Do NOT try that at home.)

You tell me I’ve changed. That you don’t know me anymore. That I am no longer that little girl you waited for 9 years for. Was I ever?

My mum shoved pink down my throat when I was a kid. Because of that, I hate pink. She tried to push a lot of things into my head, too. Like the west is evil, or men will ALWAYS cheat on you, that anybody who isn’t Muslim or Malay are condemned to be failures. Oh, and that Mother’s are never, EVER, wrong.

You tell us this is our house, so we should take responsibilty of taking care of it, coz this house is OUR home. So why are we constantly following YOUR rules? Maybe we don’t care if the sink isn’t wiped Sahara dry, or if the sofa is 2 INCHES away from it’s “proper” position, or if the kitchen towels are folded and kept facing the cabinet door that will always be closed from the public eye? Maybe we like the house to have the lived-in look. Maybe you’re a paranoid perfectionist.

You tell me you let me do whatever I want, that you support me, that you understand me.

That is why my mother doesn’t know I’m bisexual. That is why she doesn’t know I’ve attempted suicide 4 times. That is why she does not know I cut myself, or that I’m insomniac, or was bullimic AND anorexic, or have experienced a traumatic past with a guy who told me he loved me. Or that I know she lied about an ex of mine, just to get me to break off with him.

I’ve been told that mother’s go the distance to protect their child and show us their love. But their “going the distance” has pushed us off the edge. The rest of our family have to constantly pretend we agree with and understand her. And even if we don’t, even if I stand up for myself, she knocks me down with guilt trips(and I don’t know why I still go on those trips) and threats of leaving. The fucked up bit is that she won’t leave, so it’s this constant goad poking and never leaving.

Get this straight: I love my mother. To bits, I do. But the anger, the pain, the ongoing frustration is overshadowing my patience and love for her. She constantly tells me that I won’t understand until I am a mother myself. Maybe I don’t get it yet. Maybe I’ll come upon one day where I have to swalllow my own words. But till then, I wish my mother would just let me enjoy Tabasco.