integrity.

So recently I was stuck in a pretty bad head space, and everything came to a head today. I felt like crap, I had terrible thoughts and nearing the end of the day, I was given an option.

I could take the easy way out and run from my problems by getting a third party to solve them for me, or I could buck up and get my shit together.

I know I've been disappointing my parents a lot lately. And my situation/living condition had gotten to a point where I didn't care about anything anymore. My younger self would be so disappointed in current me. Heck, current me is disgusted by current me.

But my mom had a very good and proper upbringing. She does the right thing not because she's afraid of getting caught, but because it's the right thing to do. No one else might ever find out what you did but you will know what you did. And can you live with that? When you die, do you have a clear conscience?

Everyone has flaws, but she is such a good person. A decent human being, if you will. Unlike me. I am a shit human being. The shittiest of shits. But I digress.

My mom is the kind of person who will help guide you, over and over again, so you won't make mistakes you'd regret for the rest of your life. But at the same time, she believes that if you mess up, you deserve to face the consequences.

She has had(?) such faith and something inside me snapped or clicked or the stars aligned or whatever.

Her integrity inspires me. Her beliefs ground me. Her principles give me the strength to pick myself up and get my shit together.

I'm getting back on track. The journey will suck and there will be times I just want to give up, but I'll get there. I promise. I'm choosing the harder road because you make me want to be a better person. 

I never say this enough, and I'm terrible with communicating, but thanks mom. Thank you for everything. Thank you for being you.  :') <-look! real tears that you never got to see!

i can't even

Honestly.

I’m not high maintenance. I’m not demanding. I’m not a pathetic damsel in distress or a shit human being that needs rescuing or molly coddling.

I’m self-reliant and my basic needs stick to the bare necessities. (Okay, I can be high maintenance sometimes but I can tone things down and survive on the bare basics if need be.)

I’m more than happy if you leave me alone. Honestly, if you didn’t want me to turn into such a shit piece of antisocial, selfish human being, maybe you shouldn’t have bloody banished me to Mother Effing Russia all those years ago, All By Myself.

People change over time, and I’ve gotten comfortable in my own prickly skin. My DGAF attitude is bloody liberating. Maybe you should try it yourself sometimes. Because honestly, think about it. Why are you bending over backwards to please an asshole that doesn’t even show gratitude?

I do your stupid chores, stick to your stupid rules, put up with your stupid quirks. I don’t expect anything in return, but surely a few hours a day to myself isn’t too much to ask?

I watch 20odd episodes of tv shows a week in Moscow. (Yes, the Internet has spoiled me; No, it’s not as bad as it sounds because it’s spread across 6 days and some are half-hour episodes). Anyway, I come back and deal with the disappointing state of Astro and end up with 3hours of tv a week. 3 hours a week. Apparently that is asking too much. 

I would like to watch my shows in peace, which boils down to no interruption during my 1-hour of TV time whenever it crops up. I give everyone plenty warning when my show is on. There is no pause button on Astro. And yes, every stupid question you ask me brings me back to this reality instead of the AU that exists on my show. American (& British) dramas make sense. (Most of the time anyway.) You don’t have too many WTF moments where logic fails to exist. The dialogues are normally one of the best parts of the show. I’d like to pay attention to the actor’s acting skills. Their nuances and expression; the supporting storyline; the character development; the wardrobe and makeup. So many things can happen with just one look. So yes, it annoys the hell out of me when you disturb me or ask inane questions. I enjoy quality TV, which might seem weird to you since all you watch is crap K dramas with terrible acting and clichéd plots. Your dialogues are reduced to subtitles. You don’t mind missing an episode or two because you’ll still know what’s going on in the drama. People on my show die or get blackmailed into doing shit. Basically if I have to miss an episode, I'd rather not watch the rest of the season until I can catch up properly. 

I care about my shows and the characters. I know it’s hard for you to understand because you’ve gotten used to crap, but I have standards and I actually invest in my shows. So please, leave me the hell alone for the duration of an episode. Do you really need me to print something for you right now? Do you really need me to make you a cup of coffee at this time? Am I really the only one who can whip up a late supper for you?

Another thing I’ve gotten used to doing in Moscow is writing. I doodle on pieces of paper; I type away on my laptop. It’s hard enough to find the time to write, harder still to get into the correct mood. If you ask what I’m doing and my reply is “writing” or “my things”, bloody well leave it at that. Because no matter how many times you ask me what I’m writing, my answer will always be “just writing la!”

And for goodness sake, do not fucking read over my shoulder as I type. Yes, I can feel that. It’s creepy and a rude violation of my privacy. Reading something out loud will most definitely end with me glaring daggers at you hoping for you to drop dead and die because seriously, what kind of shitty human being even does that?! 

It's bad enough I can't unwind or de-stress in peace. Honestly, I love each and every one of you, but I need me-time to recharge. The human interaction here is 24/7 and I really need a break from human beings in general. Can we just pretend that I don't exist for a day or two? 

Honestly. I'm getting wound tighter each day and you take away my coping mechanisms. This is a shit show waiting to implode.

Mess.

What do you think I’ve been doing this whole time? 

Because despite your rose-colored perception of my life here, it’s not a ^*@!ing bed of roses. The roses are dead and have wilted a long time ago; all I’m left with is brambles and thorns and a plethora of shit that other people do not have to put up with.

Take it as a life lesson. Yeah. I’ve had enough life lessons from the past four years to last me a lifetime. Thanks but no thanks. 

I’ve been taken down so many pegs; there are dinosaur fossils that are located higher in the ground than where I am.

This is the most shithole place and time I’ve ever been in life.

Of Handcuffs, Blindfolds, and a Countdown Timer

First off, get your dirty minds out of the gutter. Nothing kinky of that sort going on.

Anyhoo, today was my first time at Escape Room. I know it's been pretty popular for quite some time, but this was my first chance to try it out. Anyway, I went to the one in Setia Walk(Puchong) with my younger brother and sister. They've done a few different ones with their friends and cousins, but today we were going to try out the Dungeon of Doom. (The difficulty was rated 4 out of 5 stars.)

The Secret Lab; CSI; Kung Fu; UP; Dungeon of Doom; Fear Factor

Apparently our cousin tried that and failed, and there were two groups of people before us who also did the Dungeon of Doom and failed. As we stared at the two groups who had to take the "loser" shots, my sister and I were thinking the same thing: 1. We don't want to lose. 2. Damn embarassing wei. 3. Seriously memalukan.

Basically we had 45minutes to escape from the room we were sent into. Before we even went in, we were given blindfolds and instructed to form a Choo-choo train by holding the shoulder of the person in front of us. The girl then led us into the room and asked us to put our hands behind our backs before she handcuffed each of us. So yeah. Blindfolded and handcuffed in a dark room. The moment she left the room we were allowed to start moving. Lots of wiggling ensued whereby we helped each other out of the blindfolds, then we eventually got our handphones out and turned on the flash for some light. Finally.

First off, getting rid of the handcuffs. I have no idea how my younger brother did it, but he somehow forced his open while trying to bring his hands to the front. Anyway, he found the key and helped me with my handcuff before I helped my sister with hers. For some reason we just left one side of the handcuffs on for the remainder of the time even though the dangly half hooked onto a lot of things.

There was a bed and some chains and skulls, a rope, and a wall with graffiti of math equations..? A grill door separated us from the other half of the room which had four boxes and a wall of clocks and other things. I won't tell how we opened the door or solved the obstacles (in case any of you guys decide to try this one day,) but we wasted two of our hints on really easy things so we had to figure out the hard ones on our own.

I'll just come out and say I was really useless in the beginning. I had no idea what to look for or what to do, and my two younger siblings couldn't be bothered to layan me and my "What am I supposed to do?" and "I don't understand this game!" I could feel my sister being fed up with me at one point (after the game she admitted to feeling like just slapping me, LOL) and pandai-pandai decided to go to the other side of the room until we made more progress.

BUT, I was really useful in the end! :) I solved two of the last padlock/codes. I still have no idea how the alphabet lock worked, but hey, I pandai-pandai worked backwards and with the help of elimination and some sly thinking, got the correct answer.

The last obstacle was nerve-wrecking because of the time left. We tried a few variations but nothing worked. I saw glimpses of a pattern and on a hunch, began cracking the code. Overhead, the timer was counting down the final ten seconds.

We knew it was the last obstacle because the code we punched in would open the door and we would be free so it would suck so very terribly if we made it through all the earlier obstacles only to fumble at the last one.

I held onto the UV light and yelled numbers at my sister while my brother held the white torch light to give my sister normal lighting so she could punch in the codes.

The door lock flashed a green light and opened as the timer showed 44:59.

HOLY EFF.

Anyway, the three of us just lingered at the door. Did we win or lose? Did the door open because the time was up or did we actually open it? I saw the green light which indicated we had the right code but the time was so close I wasn't really sure.

So we just waited like jakuns until someone came to the hallway and came to check on us. We had to ask him if we won or lost and he was pretty blur as well and asked us our time instead. Anyway, he said he'd give us that one second and we got out anyway meaning we must have successfully broken the code, SO WE WON. YESSSSSSS.

I now know what Castle must have felt like when he yanked all the cords and dismantled the dirty bomb at the last possible second.

He then laughed when he saw the handcuffs dangling from our arms and we finally removed them before heading out to take our Winner pictures.

Adrenaline rush to the max. 

I insisted on jakuning and taking another picture with their props.

Thats us (4th place) on their weekly Hall of Winners!

SUCH A CLOSE CALL!

This was the polaroid they gave us to keep. Such pretty borders! And in the back you can see the wall of losers. Haha. 

Our achievement brought on a Power Rangers moment. (Please excuse my tanned hand and feet.)

Riding on the adrenaline high. (Little Bro pulled out a poker face at the last moment - too cool liao.)

Anyway, we grabbed Starbucks on the way home (which normally isn't worth mentioning, BUT, we tried the new flavours.)

My sis tried the banana frap and I had the strawberry cheesecake. Hers was really weird (IMO. I mean, banana and coffee???) but mine was really delicious. Haha. Really loved the cookie crumbs they sprinkled on top but it's a tad too sweet for my liking.

Die. Just... DIE.

Holy mother of everything. Is no one in this household considerate?! Honestly. One stays up half the night watching tv; the other wakes at a bleeping ungodly hour to watch tv; and everyone watches at a volume that's too damn bleeping loud.

You don't even understand Korean. The fuck are you doing, blasting the tv at i-want-to-sleep o'clock?

It's fuck-you-I-didn't-get-to-sleep-last-night-so-i'd-like-to-sleep-now o'clock in the morning, the fuck are you doing, blasting the tv so fucking loudly?

And why the hell am I the only one in this household getting eaten alive by mosquitos? (Okay, i'm probably just exaggerating, but i'm feeling every damn bite right now. Not helping. At all.)

Now that I'm not facing jet lag or running myself rugged to the point of exhaustion, my dear old friend, Insomnia, is back. And my parents already think I'm lazy enough as it is that I can't even take naps in the day. I LIE IN BED PRETENDING TO SLEEP BUT I'M GETTING NOTHING HERE.

DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHY I AM SO PISSED AT HAVING MY SLEEP ROBBED UNNECESSARILY?!

Now, I'm too damn pissed to sleep. I'm too damn pissed to write. I'm too damn pissed to do anything and I'm holed up in the study instead of the nice air conditioned bedroom because guess what, I'm actually considerate enough to not want to wake anyone else with the smashing of my keyboard.

sakhfdkjldshadkl;fnfdsakjlk;;s

Home is where the heart...

Phew. It's been 10 days since I've been home and I might need a break already.

It's not that I don't love my family or spending time with them, I'm just not used to interacting with other humans 24/7 for so many days in a row.

Yes, I've had my fill of talking my family members' ears off, but I am officially exhausted despite not doing much. I just want to curl up in a corner and be left alone to my own devices to recharge and regroup. Is that too much to ask?

Yes, spending family time is important and nice and all that, but I need me time as well.

At The Ballet...

Ahh. Ballet. The one constant in my life ever since I was 3. We've been through our ups and downs; the phases of likes and dislikes, then the appreciation comes along followed by the abrupt withdrawal and ensuing nostalgia, leading to an even deeper love for all types of dancing.

Anyhoo, I'm deviating from the point.

I've danced my fair share of ballets (My Fair Lady, Getting To Know You, Swan Lake, Dancing in the Rain, Les Sylphide, Waltz of the Flowers and La Bayadere to name a few,) and I've been lucky to attend a number of ballets live as well (Men in Tutus, Sleeping Beauty, Giselle, Swan Lake, and as of today, the Nutcracker.)

As my friend pointed out, I've seen all three of Tchaikovsky's balllets.

Sleeping Beauty, Swan Lake, and the Nutcracker. I saw all three at the Kremlin, so I guess it's safe to compare them with each other as they're of the same par.

Everyone goes crazy over Swan Lake. Personally, I never "understood" the hype for Swan Lake. The only parts I really really loved/looked forward to were when the Black Swan appears (Act 3) and of course her 32 fouettes. But watching the full length ballet live, I came to really enjoy the jester dude (Benno?) and all the formation changes as well with the Corps.

Sleeping Beauty. It was the first ballet that I saw in Moscow. I went in not really expecting much, but thoroughly enjoyed myself.

And, the Nutcracker. I've been looking forward to the Nutcracker for ages and ages. I don't know why but it's always been a favorite in my mind even though I've yet to see the ballet performance live.

I finally watched it earlier today, and I was... disappointed. I don't know if my expectations were too high, or if my mind just built it up to this magical number, but I left the ballet feeling... robbed/cheated.

I enjoyed the first part well enough, but found it to be really short (only 1 hour). But the second part was the one I was really anticipating. I loved the five dances (Spanish, Arabian, Chinese, Russian, Danish) but found them to be way too short. Surprisingly, I recognized music for four out of five of the numbers. (I've never seen the full ballet before this.) Sorry Spanish dance. I'm really trying to think of the positives before I move on to the negatives but it seems most of my memory has been tainted :-/

Oh well. On to the negs.

The costume was pretty enough, loved what they wore in the first scene. I though the Sugar Plum Fairy's outfit could be more... more. But omg what the Corps wore for Waltz of the Flowers, I can't. I'm sorry, but the costumes we had for our concert was nicer than what I saw today. Whats the thingy thingy crawling on one arm? What's with the tutu? It was split into four quadrants and I really didn't like how it looked when the dancers did certain steps. Like, No.

But the backdrop was pretty. The backdrops and props are always pretty, but I think Sleeping Beauty wins for the general look of the stage while Swan Lake wins with effects (I really really really loved how they made it look like the swans were swimming across the lake.)

On to the dancers. Hmm. Sleeping Beauty and Swan Lake's Corps didn't irk me as much as Nutcracker's did. I've seen YouTube videos and the leads of all three ballets can't really compare to "top tier" soloists (i.e. internationally famous ballerinas,) so I guess that was a bit of a let down. It's not Bolshoi, but hey, it's still Russian. And tour groups come to the Kremlin to watch these ballets! (There was a Chinese and an Italian group today.)

Watching ballets used to be all about "OMG so cool" and "Wish I could learn to do that one day" or "I wonder when my technique will be good enough to pull that off" and "how do they beat/turn so many times?"

I used to look at the Corps and go "Yeah, I'm not as good but I'm pretty sure I can pull of some of those moves" but now I'm looking at the leads and going "Yeah I used to be able to do that" and it's such a let down! I go to the ballet to be amazed and awe struck. Maybe it's time for me to scout out other theaters as well.

I think it might be hard for Nutcracker to pull off a higher technical difficulty level because of the children involved as well, but omg there was this one Corps girl who was so terribly sesat with her timing for Waltz of the Flowers that I just couldn't concentrate on anything else. What gives?! And it wasn't just once - her sesatness continued into a lot of that particular number.

The formations were messy too. I sat in the center, so it's pretty obvious when something is lopsided or a different distance upstage/downstage. If Swan Lake got a 9 (I'm a tad OCD), then today's performance earned a 5. I really didn't like it. :(

And. I had a problem with Clara's hands. It's hard to enjoy a ballet when the lead ballerina's hand irk you.

The jumps weren't really there for the guys, and generally you could tell the dancers were probably getting tired in the second half. I was pursing my lips on the inside going "I can see you thinking". I don't expect perfection, but people are paying to watch this performance. Guess I expected a little more quality-wise.

For the very first time ever, EVER, I had a problem with the orchestra. Someone messed up big time during the Sugar Plum Fairy's dance. The celesta was definitely way too loud in the opening bar and the conductor probably overcompensated with the whole orchestra in the next phrase which made it even more glaringly obvious. (Kudos to Clara for continuing as though nothing was wrong.) I don't know what was going on with the percussions, but it wasn't good either for some of the numbers. And oh god that piccolo. Someone do something about today's orchestra.



My final verdict? Sleeping Beauty was my favorite ballet at the Kremlin. I'm like a kid, so give me elaborate, colorful costumes rather than the bland white swans; and today's Nutcracker just wasn't on par with their technical difficulty.

So. I'll probably give Nutcracker another chance with another theater and hope that one will deliver better. Until then, there are still a lot of ballets out there to be seen. :)

Black sheep.

I'm not a nice person. I know that, you know that, the world knows that. But guess what. I DGAF. Why bend over backwards trying to please people? Why suffer in silence for someone else's happiness? The world can think whatever it wants. What's it got to do with me?

I'm in my twenties, the world is my oyster, right? Daddy's little girl all grown up, ready to face what's out there. I'm in my prime, oh so ready to race to the peak. Best friends standing side by side, us against the world. Young, mostly fearless, just the right amount of reckless, invincible. Raring to carve our way; make our marks; trailblazing through life.

Let me make my mistakes. Let me fumble and fall. Let me do the stupid things that I will come to regret. Let me dive into things that I know for a fact are toxic. Let me grow.

I'm way past my teenage years, and yet I'm unable to let go of this rebellious streak, I can't put this phase behind me. All my friends have gone through it. They're mature and more level headed and know to steer clear from foolish decisions. I know a bad choice when I see one, yet I'm still inexplicably drawn to it. I seek the thrill when I know that I should shake my head and roll my eyes.

Why can't you just let me properly crash and burn through this year or two? Let me have my fill and get some closure so that we can all move on? Heaven forbid I give in to my rebellious side when I'm in my late twenties, when I'm too old and cannot afford to waste my life away.

Let the world think what they want. Let them come for me. Let them try to hold me back, or to chase after me.
I'm at peace.
I'm happy, perfectly peachy.

I'm fine.

Relativity.

Holy eff this semester just flew right pass. Seriously, how am I almost done with fourth year already? Where did all the time go?

What have I done since the beginning of this year? I remember wrapping up KB-DTA in January and Charm in April. I remember flailing and submerging myself further into the fandom. I remember doing the dance thing for the inter varsity games and subsequently clubbing and getting to know the most sohai, fun, and colorful "kids" ever. (IMO 3years is plenty seniority for me to call them kids.) I remember fonting - not the Caskett kind, but - oh so much fonting. I started keeping a journal and I've been to a piano concert and an 18+ musical. I've gotten hooked onto new shows and learned when it was time to stop watching a show.

Academically, I've finished two cycles, and I'm about to be done with the third one in a few days. Got some shit done; but didn't manage to finish some shit (for now). Even surprised myself by how interested I was in some of the "useless subjects".

There was that brief highlight of receiving my first genuinely anonymous "love letter" followed by the disappointing letdown of months of inactivity. (Your loss.)

There was also that night in church that basically guaranteed my one way ticket to hell.

Birthdays and celebrations have come and gone.

I've learnt when to say no and when to say fuck all, let's do this.

One last month; one last cycle (the hardest one yet!) before I go home. Let's make this worthwhile.

a love letter of sorts.

So I stumbled upon this thought catalog article, titled: 15 Big Ways You Love Your Little Sister. And while most of their articles make pretty good reads, I totally related to this one. I've included screenshots of parts of the article for those of you who are too lazy to check out the full article. So yeah, dungu, this one's for you. 

Okay fine, so my sister was the Kelly to my Barbie dolls. She was the little princess and I was the crown princess/queen. I got to be the leopard while she was the puppy/kitten/pony. But there were four of us so we rotated roles pretty well. Yeah, I pretty much bullied her into roles that I didn't want. But 'tis the way of life! #sorrynotsorry

Confession time. Remember when we went to our kampung in China for the first time back in 2006 and had dinner in the ancestral home and you wanted to sit but the bench "moved" and you fell on the hard slabs of granite floor? Yeah, after seeing how painful it was I quickly said it was an accident but I actually moved the chair out of place because I thought it would be funny. Turns out... Not funny at all. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. (But more than thankful we're almost halfway across the world from each other right now so you can't kill me when you read this.) I've been plagued by this guilt for 8 years! That's punishment enough, right?

 

 This one's really unfair but true because my sister could put on a sack and look nice. Thanks to her height, she can put on 5kgs without it being noticeable at all. All cuts are flattering on her. Dresses are designed for people like her. Pfft. So Jealous.

 I found number 4 hilarious because: No, she doesn't. I don't think that girl plays any sports at all! BUT. She friggin' climbed Mount Kinabalu (aka tallest mountain in South East Asia and ranked 20th in the World) and made it to the friggin' summit. Got a certificate and all to prove it. You go, girl who doesn't exercise!

 

I never had to worry about her grades. My baby sister is like so friggin' hard working. And disciplined. I could NEVER do that. #respect

 It sucks to be half the world apart, and I feel pretty useless at times, but that girl can handle herself. Right?

 We have the longest, weird ass conversations. We talk about everything, and I mean Everything. 'Nuff said.

 Like when did all these cool activities crop up in Malaysia? It's as though the moment I left for Russia my sister finds all these cool stuffs to do. And I'm like: I want also :(

Ahh yes. We're the sakai Ooi sisters. Zhin Ie and Zhin Han together = dungu squared. Our Ooi and Alikazin relatives can attest to that.

 This shit applies to all my siblings. My direct family, to be precise. No one talks shit 'bout them, except for me.

 Thank you for all the times you quip "Liars go to Hell." My sister has no problem whatsoever telling me that my mom actually meant that I looked FAT, not fair (even when my mom was actually saying that I've gotten fair/light skinned.)

 When did her clothes get so cool and chic and classy?

 Okay, so what if I introduced drinking games to my siblings? I don't trust their friends to do the corruption so I might as well do it myself.

 I don't care if you've been jokingly saying for the past 5/more years that your ambition is to be a "rich housewife". You are graduating with a degree and you're gonna be an independent grown ass woman with her finances in order before you get married. (Unless you find the perfect pair of rich brothers for the two of us. Dibs on the smarter one!)

How are you already 20 this year? How is it possible for me to leave a girl who cried herself to sleep four years ago (I'm NEVER forgetting this!) only to return to someone who has stepped up in my absence and taken over the adult role?

But that's okay. Because for every mature, grown up thing you do that makes me proud, you follow up with three ridiculously dungu actions. And then you're my baby sister again. :)

steamy.

So. Let's talk dreams. It's late ish (almost 2am) and I have test tomorrow so I'm just going to ramble on and hope this doesn't take too long. I apologize in advance for the clutter in my brain and how disorganized my thoughts are.

I read somewhere that we only dream of people that we've met before in real life. It doesn't matter if you remember that person, so long as you've glimpsed at someone's face, that memory will be tucked somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, and they can pop up in our dreams.

So yeah. Those strangers in your dreams? You've met them already.

Going off topic here, but I once had a dream of my wedding day and if this applies, that means I've met my "groom" IRL. Before you ask, NO, I do not know-know who he is.

(Imagine all those other calla-fair background strangers in your dreams. You've met every single one of them in real life. Whoa.) 

Back to the point of this entry about dreams.

Does the same apply to experiences? Sensations? I read a lot, and there are some pretty amazing authors out there that could describe things to a T, and this sort of makes me really experienced. (Theoretically anyway.)

But what if you dreamed of that theoretical experience? And say it blew your mind, will the real thing live up to it's standards after that mind blowing experience that you dreamed of? What if the dream was so good, it put the descriptions you've read about to shame? Are you over-hyping something before you've even experienced it in real life? Is your mind unconsciously setting up impossibly high standards? 

March Madness

"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives." ~Annie Dillard


In that case, if I were to be given a choice, I would choose to spend my days dreaming.

Dream big; Dream loud; Dream of the uncharted and the unimaginable. To let my thoughts wander over to the unthinkable. Explore the horizons and delve into the darkness.

Fantasize and Romanticize. Dream hard and Dream with all my heart. Run to my safe place - my mind - and within it's confines I can slow down and let the whispers grow their voices; just take a pause on a whim and let things seep and condense. Nurture baby hopes with the power of imagination. A place where creativity can thwart logic and reality.

Dream the impossible into something possible. 


Oh to be a dreamer.


Yet at the end of the day, dreamers never accomplish anything at all, do they? Because Do-ers are the ones who take dreams and make them a reality. They're the ones who accomplish tasks. Because they take actions. Their name says it all. They Do.

But is it really so bad to not have accomplished something "tangible"? What if what you're trying to accomplish isn't something that you have to see come to fruition in reality? What if the joy of dreaming, the joy from dreaming, is the achievement?

What then?

Bananas.

So, a dear friend of mine needed my help with some translation. To be honest, when I found out it would involve translating Chinese to English, I wasn't that keen. However, I'm glad that I did it because it turned out to be quite possibly the most fun I've had in a while. 

Thankfully, she didn't want me to translate some article for her. Instead, they were lyrics to a song. She would give me a line, and I'd translate it for her. Baby steps :) Here's the thing with Chinese characters. They. Are. Tiny! So even if you give me just a small paragraph, I immediately balk because it would easily contain more than 100 characters. (140characters limit on twitter? If I tweeted in Chinese I could easily tell a simple story!) So we compromised, and she gave me the first line.

After a few (hilarious) exchanges, we decided to tackle the chorus. I had already translated most of the lines, but I needed the complete chorus in order to see the big picture. See, the problem with the Chinese language is that it is so flowery and beautiful (when used correctly) and ladled with metaphors and imagery. You need everything to be able to put it into context and get the main idea.

Alright, enough talking, let's get down to business. 

 So I freaked out and got overwhelmed by the whole chunk of it. I asked for some time to form an opinion, and when I read through the lines, I couldn't help but see the opportunity to troll my friend. (A perverse form of revenge for making me read those Chinese lines, even though we made it fun from the get go.)

The next picture contains both versions of my translation/opinion. Please bear in mind that I was going all out and completely out-of-character. (My version of satire of the Malaysian English.) It was the epitome of how Rojak and Cina I could be.

Okay, so I know my opinion (even the not-troll one) probably didn't fully grasp what the guy was trying to express through his lyrics, but I wasn't taking it too seriously and out of all the languages I know, Chinese has been and still is a language that I rather dislike. (I kid you not, I once thanked my parents for "forcing" me to go to a Chinese school as a kid because I couldn't even imagine learning Chinese as a teenager, and my dad literally thanked god and told my mom he could finally die in peace. Apparently I was so anti-Chinese my parents were worried.)

I probably had too much fun trolling and butchering the lyrics, and I admit it might even be borderline disrespectful/rude, but I was just in it to have some harmless fun. So I apologize in advance if I've offended anyone. My friend and I had such a good laugh over this that we both agreed it was too good to not share with others (and hopefully make you laugh as well).

Anyway, my friend actually had a translation of the lyrics and it was provided by a lady who was going to teach English to Primary One students next year. 

 DID YOU READ THAT?! This woman is going to teach English to other children. I worry for our future generation. I really do.

So we had a few more laughs over the lyrics before my friend paid me this compliment:

Made me super happy to receive that compliment :) (but then again, she probably isn't the best person to judge the quality of my translation, since she wouldn't know if it was actually on point or not. BUT I LOVE YOU FOR IT ANYWAY.) 

This little exercise actually reminded me of my high school days, and I actually feel sad at the decline of my proficiency in Malay and Chinese (my written vocabulary has shrunk to embarrassingly astonishing levels). 

There's just something beautiful about being fluent in multiple languages to the point that you're able to carry forward an abstract idea (even across cultures) when you translate something. Reading quality translated works give me a child-like glee.

So there you go. Hope you guys had a good laugh over this. I know I did!  

Coping mechanisms. and an apology.

Been in a funk recently, and no, I don't know why - if I did, I'd probably try to deal with it already, okay fine, maybe I do have some clues as to why i'm in this funk but hush. Just let me wallow in my misery. For a while more at least. And by a while, I might mean a few days.

Anyhoo.

One of my friends (who had the best intentions) told me to go listen to some music or write something. Yes, normally that would work, but this is one of those stupid funks that make me not want to write at all. or listen to music. *cue amanda reacting like a douche*

Eventually I stumbled onto figure skating videos on YouTube. Yay me.

I've decided that figure skating videos are my go-to balms now. It's a phase. Whatever.

I refuse to watch ballet or modern dance videos because those just make me more depressed. It makes me think of all the cool things I used to be able to do, and basically make me yearn for dance classes which I'm unable to attend thanks to my own stupidity. But that's another story.

Anyway, figure skating.

It was a pretty obvious choice, what with the Sochi olympics coming up and all that. Besides, it's a combination of a lot of things that I love (dance, music, artistry, costumes - I could go on forever) but the big plus side is I don't know anything about ice skating techniques (the most that I can do is skate forwards and backwards, but that's it) so my brain won't can't analyze the performance. I can basically just enjoy it.

When someone pulls off a Triple-triple combination, I just go "Whoa, cool!" I don't know what's a clean landing, or the difference between a triple lutz(is that how you spell it?) or a double axle, and I'm perfectly fine with that.

During the (normal?) Olympics I went through a gymnastics phase, but I'm only really interested in the ones where they perform with props. Gymnastics is rather trick after trick after trick and lots of scary flexibility and over arching backs. Or just the weird stance. I don't know - sorry, must be my ballet-oriented brain tuning in.

It comes in with figure skating as well though. The one thing that I don't like about figure skating is their lines. Sorry. It's just too kang-kang or not-straight-enough-knees or not-squared-hips for me. Blame it on ballet. I like clean ballet lines with ballet orientation. So no, I do not like your lines, or attitudes, or arabesques. They're off by ballet standards.

But one thing about figure skating that manages to steal my breath time and time again are their leaps. How do they do that?! The sheer amount of power and control that goes into the jumps, spinning effortlessly in the air (seriously, 15 y.o. lipnitskaia pulls off triple-triple combos like they're nothing!) and then you have to land on one of three surfaces of the blade, AND continue gliding on the ice. How do you *insert blubbering noises*.

I absolutely love that they continue gliding on the ice after leaps/spins/jumps. Like the energy just molds into the next step. With ballet when you end your pirouettes it just... ends. Sure, if you finish in 4th you could probably extend the moment slightly longer than your plie in 5th,  but you're just there on the same spot (which is kind of the point) before going into the next step. On ice, you make a gazillion spins/rotations and just continue moving/gliding into the next step. A lot of this has to do with the decreased friction on ice, so it's unfair to compare ballet and figure skating, but I can't help it because they're so similar and yet so different at the same time.

*more blubbering noises as i struggle to cope with my FEELS* Yes, performances give me more feels than movies. I'm sorry, I just never cry at movies. Okay, there was once when I was 8 and teared a little at one scene in a movie. But movies just don't get to me, man. I get feels over people and performances. I do tear up at really good performances. They speak my lingo. I relate to the thrill and passion and connection.

So, in a roundabout sort of way, my friend's suggestion did help.
Since I didn't know the big-shots in figure skating, I mainly chose videos based on views and song. And all those videos helped put me in a much better place emotionally and mentally. (The turning point was Johnny Weir's Bad Romance for Fashion On Ice 2011. GO WATCH IT.) And after a few  many, many YouTube videos, I'm at a place where I can blog and sort of declutter my brain.

Basically, I'm an idiot, and my friends do know me better than myself at times. Sorry for being an ass. 

disappointment

We all feel it sometimes. Most of the time? I don't know. Some more often than others, I'd venture to say.

I'm disappointed in you. The plural you.
I expected more. How could I not? After four years worth of heartaches and pain and hardship, you finally get the girl. And then what?

How can you not appreciate something so magically extraordinary? Do you really only want what you can't have? So once you get the girl you lose interest?

The best outcome from this scenario would be that the Powers That Be have a longer trajectory in mind to peel off one of your onion layers. But where is this coming from?
How can we see such rapid and dramatic and downright delightful character growth from her but settle with you being stagnant, or even worse, regressing?

You're my OTP and of course i invest in you, so as much as i would like to trust in TPTB, it's hard to do so.

It pained S to write her review. It pains me to agree with her too.