#MeToo

Let’s talk sexual assault. And sexual harassment. And all that yucky, non-consenting sexual stuff that makes you feel uncomfortable just because I’m bringing it up.

Because Me Too. But not only me too, because it’s her too, and her too, and probably even him too.

A few days ago I posted Me Too on a social media platform, without any elaboration, just to see what sort of reaction I would get. Because I wanted to add my voice to the conversation despite being too afraid to share my story. Besides, I didn’t feel like I owed my story to anyone anyway. (And you don’t owe your story to anyone either. Just know that whenever or if ever you do feel ready to come forward, there’s a whole community of people believing and supporting you.)

I’ll admit that I was a coward, but seeing the countless other women I know share their stories on another social media platform, and seeing the overwhelming support being poured out and shared around, gave me the courage to speak out.

I wish I only had a story to share, or maybe just two. But sadly, the truth is I have too many stories to share. Which one do you want to hear about? That time a stranger sprung a kiss on me then darted away laughing with his friends, despite me being surrounded by my male and female friends? Or what about the time I was relentlessly pulled to dance with a few different men in turns, despite struggling to resist them with all my weight? Or when a guy friend took “No” to mean “try harder,” and after a few tries warned me that I would regret my decision? Or when we were under the influence and another friend didn’t feel like he needed to keep his hands to himself? Or that time I ended up locked in a room with a man who had authority over me and a body size way larger than mine, and was forced to play nice and let him kiss me and grope me and caress me and rub himself against me?

That last one still makes my skin crawl.

I wish I was the exception, but I know that’s not true. Almost every other female that I know have been sexually harassed at least once. We’re the normal, and this “normal” is anything but.

Because I have a friend who was stopped by men who proceeded to lift her by the groin and held her in the air despite all her screaming and struggling.

And another friend who got propositioned by a male friend in our group despite never having shown an ounce of interest, and was at best, only civil towards him.

And one more friend who had a stranger stick his hand up her dress on a crowded public transport.

Let’s not forget all the times we’ve all been cat called on the streets or told to put on some makeup or my favorite, “smile because it makes you look prettier”.

I’ve spent a quarter of my life abroad, and I can easily say that sexual harassment is something that is truly nondiscriminatory. That stranger or friend or acquaintance truly does not care about your race or age or the way you dress.

A lot of the times we keep silent because we don’t want to rock the boat or because of victim shaming. If at any point during your read of this article the thought of “yeah, but what were you/she wearing at the time?” ever crossed your mind, you’re part of the problem. Yes, I’m calling you out.

What a girl does (or does not) wear doesn’t matter. I could be walking topless down the street, and it doesn’t entitle anyone to sexually harass me. Girls are already doing so much to try and protect themselves. Well, I think it’s high time that boys/men are held accountable for their actions. Teach your fathers (there are a lot of lecherous old men out there) and uncles and sons and brothers and friends to be better. Because that predatory behavior is unacceptable. Not in the past, not now, and certainly not in the future.

At the end of the day we’re all human beings. And I believe that everyone, male and female, deserve to be treated decently and with respect.

The Tates.

That's what I'm calling 'em. Channing Tatum and Jenna Dewan-Tatum. They're the Tatums. Tates for short. And I love them (not only because saying tates remind me of potates).

Can you believe Step Up came out in 2006? That's 10 years ago babe. TEN years.

Yeah. Just let that sink in for a moment.

Ten years ago I was in Sec 3. Kinda starting to get into ballet despite having learned it for about 10 years already at that point. And by "get into", I mean really enjoy and appreciate it. I think it really started with Step Up the movie. It was the coolest fusion of ballet and modern that I've ever seen.

Step Up will always be my number one dance movie. It ranks higher than Center Stage and all the myriad of dance movies I've seen. I'm talking Grease, Footloose, Dirty Dancing, Saturday Night Fever, Flash Dance, Top Hat, Brigadoon etc; Take The Lead, Shall We Dance, Strictly Ballroom, Save The Last Dance etc; Billy Elliot, White Nights, The Red Shoes, Black Swan etc; Chicago, Moulin Rougue, Singing in the Rain, Burlesque, A Chorus Line, All That Jazz, West Side Story etc; Dance Flick, Stomp, Honey, Fame, Bring It On, Magic Mike and Step Up 2, 3, 4 etc.

The 2006 Step Up will always hold a special place in my heart.


I mean, who didn't try out the 8-count routine Jenna so graciously recited for us? Step knee, step fan, and turn(en dehors), ball-change, contract.

JDT would've been my idol/hashtag goals if 15 year old me knew of those things.

And then Channing. Man, Channing.

The first time he asked JDT what the hell was a pique I was like "This dude is so real. JDT's character definitely needs him in her life. Preach."

I'm pretty certain he chaine-d his way into her heart. Like literally just barge right into her heart and set up shop there. Go watch his chaines. Seriously. They are lethal. Like his hands/arms almost took her out. She was defenceless against him and his assault.

Getting her to show him how to coupe was just another way to dismantle her defences. He's smart that way.

And when he pas de chat. Oh man his PDC. If getting her to choose him as a dance partner (because hello hotness plus muscles and lifting abilities) was the hook, and his lethal chaines were the line, his pas de chat would be the sinker. I mean, when she laughed at him, her fate was sealed. After that point she had to go after him to apologise for laughing at his (hilariously atrocious and very monkey-like) PDC, she was a goner. That was the Tates' (more like their characters') fate sealed in ink.

His adorable pirouettes was akin to frosting on a cupcake. Before his pirouettes, the Tates (their characters) were just a boring muffin. But his pirouettes. They brought the muffin to another level. Because when you add frosting, the boring old muffin becomes a cupcake.

But that wasn't enough. No. He attended her ballet class and pissed off this tiny little girl in one of the most adorkable scenes ever. BAM. Funfetti sprinkles on the cupcake.

I am in diabetic shipper heaven.


And here we are now. Ten years later and the Tatums opened the new season of Lip Sync Battle.

JDT was flawless lip syncing to Paula Abdul's song because hello. That girl knew all the words and could execute the dance moves to perfection. Perfection I tell you.

See, you get a whole different quality of performance when you get real dancers to dance and stuff.

Channing in Elsa's dress. Can I just say there were moments when I thought he would trip on the train of the dress, but he spins like a pro and obviously the dress train never caught on anything.

Doing a Beyonce number is kinda cheating because Beyonce songs are such crowd pleasers. But yeah okay, Channing can dance and shake his butt, and it was extremely entertaining. Because of the amazing dancing. The dancing was on point, ya know?

HOWEVER.

JDT already stole the show for me when she did her hubbie's Magic Mike routine to the song Pony. I mean. I just have no words. I loved every. single. part. of. the. routine. I loved each part more than the previous as the whole thing unfolded.
And that lap dance. OMG. See, that's the kind of lap dance you can get on tv when it's a married couple involved. I honestly wouldn't be the least bit surprised if this sort of sexy dancing was a normal routine in the Tatum household.

So there you go. JDT and CT are basically married dancer couple goals.

2AM brain

Hello 2016.

A lot less of "that new year new me" bullshit going on this year. Either that or I've gotten really good at skimming through social media without even noticing those posts.

What I have been seeing, borderline-annoyingly frequently, is all the "this year i'm going to love myself" bullshit. Good job there. Your new year "resolution" is to essentially be selfish.

Because lets face it people, how do you love yourself if you don't even know who or what you are? And it takes time and effort to get to know a person, your own self included. So I see lots of "me time", a lot of "down time", basically all that "soul searching" and "deep down self reflection" stuff Gen Y loves.

It's high time I put myself first. It's high time I learn to love myself. It's high time I love myself before loving another (person).

If you ask me, it's high time someone claims royalties for being able to spin being selfish into a positive thing.


Oh the hypocrisy. Hypocrisy runs rampant, wouldn't you say? I myself am not impervious to it. I don't have a problem with hypocrisy in itself in small doses. What I do have a problem with, is hypocrites that are in denial.

I mean, if you're going to be an asshole hypocrite, at least have the balls to own up to it. (like me.) Amirite? Don't try to justify yourself, or explain why you are the exception to the rule. Just admit it and move on. No one's interested in your blabbering.

Christmas essentials

I can't believe it's a week till Christmas. TIME. FLIES.

I've been feeling super festive this year. Probably because I've been following vlogmas on YouTube, and I've got 3(three! can you believe it?!) literary advent calendars going on. So yes. Ever since the 1st of December, it's been Christmas! Christmas! Christmas! for me.

But, life throws pesky things like exams and stuff at you. So I haven't been able to go all out Christmassy and basically make my apartment look like an elf threw up in it (in a good way!) but things are slowly but surely coming along nicely. Emphasis on the slowly part.

Nothing gets my creative juices flowing like when my brain is procrastinating. Which is what I did today. Procrastinate. (Besides, nothing's a bigger incentive than last minute panic to really get the work done!)

Christmas essentials. TA-DAHHH! These are my personal "essentials" this year, and I'll just go through them from the bottom left corner in a clockwise direction.

Flat Lay All Day Err' Day!

Christmas jumper. It's the first one I've ever bought (yeah can you believe it?!) and I'm making everyone in my apartment wear a festive jumper for our Christmas dinner. (Because I can and so I will and so I did.) I just love the deep maroon and dark blue on this white one. Can't get over this jumper. It's festive-y but not too Christmassy so I can continue wearing it throughout winter if I want.

Pointe shoes, tickets, binoculars. Because what is December without Ballet season? (Actually it's ballet season all year round in Moscow, but there's just something a little extra special about going to the ballet at Christmastime.) Or go to the orchestra. Whatever floats your boat. Nuff' said.

My trusty old MacBookPro, because how else am I supposed to keep up with vlogmas, amirite? Plus there's all sorts of Christmas films to watch. (Side note, film rec: Arthur Christmas. Watch it. You will love it.)

Make up! 
Got some from my set of Stila brushes here, and a couple of face brushes from Real Techniques. They are amazingly wonderful to use, especially considering their price. Best. Purchase. Ever.

Got the basic powder, eyeshadow, blush, highlight, eyeliner and lipstick here, but I'd like to give a shoutout for my absolute favourite recent discoveries/products.

For cream eyeshadow/base, I cannot recommend anything but Maybelline's colour tattoos. It's so easy to apply, I just pop them on with my fingers and blend it out, dab eyeshadow on top if I'm feeling fancy, and I am good to go.

Nest up, blush. I've been really loving my Milani Baked Blushes. I've got quite a few, and I really love all the colours I own. If I'm too lazy to use highlight, I'll just slap on Luminoso or Rose d'Oro, and I swear they. give. you. cheekbone. goals.

Finally, I can't stop talking about my Rimmel 107 lipstick. It's from the collection they collaborated with Kate Moss, and it's just the most gorgeous deep, berry colour. Plus it smells yummilicious.

Perfume. These were a present from a few Christmas back (if I'm not mistaken these are from Dior), and I love these rollerball types because you can bring it along with you in a purse and just touch up whenever necessary.

Journal, Candle, Tumbler. Winter nights in Moscow are cold. Real cold. How can anyone say no to hot coffee or cocoa (or neslo) in a tumbler, candles burning (this is one of my favourite scents - Mahogany and Teakwood from Bath & Body Works) and a journal to pen your thoughts (or doodle) while you're snuggled up in a cocoon of cosy perfection?

Jewellery. I've taken to wearing multiple rings ever since I pilfered a bunch of midi rings from my sister, so I'm normally either wearing one, four, or more rings at a time.

So there you have it. Happy holidays and I'll see you on the flip side!

ponderings, musings, and basically rambling thoughts

So I just copied out some song lyrics on a piece of paper, and because I was in a mood, I decided to write it out the oldey-chinesey style(?) that being, Top to bottom, Right to left. And because of my mood, I also decided to do it in 繁体 instead of 简体, ergo the need to write it out in pencil. Because of course there were going to be mistakes and weirdly proportioned parts of unfamiliar words. ;p

Anyway, that's over and done with, but I'm left with a pencil smear along the lateral side of my right hand, something my left-handed friends are all too familiar with. Right handed people would get it too whenever we had 抄作文 homework or basically any work that involved pagefuls of words.

And it got me thinking: how in the world did our ancestors do it with ink and brush? Write such complex words with an unruly brush AND making sure those words don't smudge out as they move on. Calligraphy is hard enough when we write the sentences (or 成语s in most of our case,) Left to right, Top to bottom. And they wore robes with giant billowing sleeves. I guess that's why the left hand always supports the sleeves in movies/dramas that I've seen. (There's always some grand, swooping gesture, amirite?) But what a hassle that must be!

Then I realized it would've been easier for left-handers in that case, since "we" are working/writing the words from Top to bottom, Right to left. They wouldn't have a problem with smearing ink as they write. BUT, another thought then occurred to me. The structure of individual Chinese characters are generally written in parts, and we generally write those parts of the words from right to left then top to bottom. Left-handers would face the same problem all over again.

Why so hard, calligraphy?

But I guess the main question is, why so random, brain? Why do you always wonder about the weirdest things?

Side note, I remember a friend jokingly telling me she gets a full neck workout when she reads English and Chinese novels one after another, because her head would go side-to-side (English novel) and then work up-and-down (Chinese novels). And sometimes she just goes round and round confusing herself. Silly girl. 

Shame.

Let's talk body image issues.

I think all Chinese girls who grew up in a city in Malaysia has faced body image issues at some point in their lives.

You're never at an ideal body weight. You're always either too skinny or too fat. When I was younger, my aunts would say to me: "Have you eaten?(<- that right there is the most Chinese line ever) You should eat more, you're too skinny, it's not pretty." And then one day in my late teens it just flipped and suddenly my aunts were all telling me: "Have you put on weight recently? You look fatter, you should go on a diet."

Growing up as someone who took ballet classes, I had a surprisingly well body image. You're constantly in a room full of mirrors, wearing skin tight leotard and tights, surrounded by other (mostly) skinny girls. We'd get a lecture from our principle to drop 20pounds whenever exam period rolled around, but as long as I could get a flat tummy when I sucked it in, I was fine, I was satisfied with my body. I disliked how I was vertically, but rarely horizontally.

Fast forward a few more years, throw in living abroad on my own for the first time and take out the dance classes. This is where I was the past few years. I wouldn't say I hated my body, but I definitely disliked it. Do I get uncomfortable when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror? Most of the time? Yeah. Did I have occasional good days? Yes, but those were far and few in between.

Am I taking steps to get back to a body shape I'm more comfortable with? Yes.

Am I watching what I eat? Yes.

But, that doesn't mean I cut out eating all that I love. I allow myself indulgences and the occasional binge. But, I watch what I eat not in terms of counting calories, but because I genuinely want to lead a healthier lifestyle. That's my main goal, and if eating healthy and feeling healthy helped me drop some pounds along the way, all the better.

I don't want to crash diet and work out like crazy to quickly shed weight, only to rebound in the near future. I'd like to think that what I'm doing now is a commitment. I'd rather take the slower and longer journey to get where I want healthily and in doing so, create a lifestyle whereby I can maintain it for the long term.

It's hard to feel motivated though. A year or two (or three) ago, I hit a really low point. I was genuinely fat, and the heaviest I had ever been (59 or 60kg, I believe). I couldn't even use the excuse of muscle weighing more than fats, because by this point most of my muscles had converted to fat from disuse. My attitude at this point was basically fuck it. There's no more hope for me, I'm fat, none of my clothes fit, nothing looked good on my body, why bother with anything, why bother trying.

But somehow, I got over it.

It's a tough and uphill battle though. Your metabolism starts doing shit to your body and you refuse to accept that you're ageing and there are consequences whether you liked it or not. You actually have to consciously work hard to get something that you took for granted for years. Years.

I miss my childhood days even though I looked like a malnourished African kid. Oh to be skinny despite what you ate.

Eating is another issue, isn't it? It feels like every single female that I'm surrounding myself with (in Moscow anyway) is obsessed  with what they put into their mouths. And I'm just so sick of it because it feels so unhealthy. Essentially, by not (extreme) dieting, you're the odd one out and everyone else (passive aggressively) shames you into feeling guilty. It personally feels like a toxic environment to me and I don't like it. Unfortunately, my best friends do this, my friends do this, the people I live with do this, everyone does this.

While it is easier for me to try and stay above said toxic environment, I find it harder to avoid pettiness as a downfall. I recently saw a few pictures of friends from way back who recently had a reunion of sorts. I haven't even seen pictures of some of them in years. So imagine my surprise when I found out most of them had put on weight. I'll admit, my first reaction was glee. I felt relieved I wasn't the only one who had put on weight! And they looked like they've put on even more weight than me! It is a terrible thought to have, but that was my genuine reaction. I blame this on the body-shaming brainwash I've been living with for the past few years.

Another acquaintance of mine recently came forward to discuss the body image issues she faced and how she came to accept that she had gone into an unhealthy zone with the help of her friends and family, and how she was now working towards getting to a healthy weight. It was a great message, one we've seen all too often. Fat girl loses weight, gets to ideal weight and looks hot, gets obsessed with losing weight and veers off into unhealthy zone. I saw her pictures, and damn, she looked Hot. I'm not sure if those pictures were from her "unhealthy" period, or if there were from a more recent time when she was trying to get back to a "healthy" weight. But my main point is, I admire her for being able to accept that she was in an "unhealthy" phase (because she looked good), and it would be so much easier to just maintain said unhealthy weight because everyone would constantly gush about how they wished they had your body etc etc.

Body image played a rather small part throughout my life, but in the recent years it seems to dominate most of my life and my thinking. There have been times where I wished I had an eating disorder just because it would have made it easier for me to lose weight. Those are very toxic thoughts that developed within a few years of moderate level body image issues. Can you imagine the type of psychological damage that would have developed in a person who grew up their whole life with body image issues? Yes, there are plenty of campaigns out there encouraging a positive body image, but society as a whole needs to change it's mindset.

Because I'm sick of seeing girls who stand up for loving their bodies getting quickly shot down by guys who tell them "Yeah but guys go after girls with hot bodies, not healthy bodies or real bodies."

An evening of fangirling with Maksim & Nikola.

Tonight was mind blowing. It was amazing. It was an assault on my senses. I. Died. And it was awesome.

So the girls and I went for a Фортепианный Концерт at the ММДМ. Basically it was a piano concert in two parts. Никола Мельников(Nikola Melnikov) in the first part of the program, followed by Maksim. Yes, That Maksim. THE MAKSIM. (Even my mom was jealous when she heard about this, LOL.)

To be honest, I was there for Maksim. I didn't know who the other dude was, and by reading the program booklet, I found out he was doing a presentation of his album, #22. Zi tells me he's a rather famous and popular Russian pianist, but frankly speaking, I wasn't expecting too much.

Boy was I in for a shock.

Nikola was amazing. The first song, 635, didn't exactly blow my mind away, but his second song, Inception, was my favourite piece. The third song, Delicatesse, was a complete audio-visual experience for me. I literally had visions in my head, scenes unfolding and images flashing by as he played. I've never experienced something like that, ever. What he had evoked via his music was so strong, I felt utterly compelled to pull out my pen and jot down notations in my program booklet. It was a frenzy. So basically I was scribbling away furiously whenever he paused between pieces, trying to cram my words into the tiny space and jot down what I felt with each song, or what my interpretation was for each piece.

Some pieces were very moving, some were visual, some created stories in my head. But not everything was deep. One piece merely had two words commented beside it: Them fingers! Because seriously, I know he's a pro and all, but his fingers are so light and precise and controlled. No lazy notes, no rushed notes - Zi commented that it felt as though he was "caressing the piano". She's right. He was caressing the piano while creating the most amazing sounds without compromising technique or quality.

The last song on his program(barring the encore) was Together We Are and this was my second favourite piece because of how complex yet intricate it was.

All too soon, it was time for intermission. They made an announcement in Russian, and I immediately got excited because if my Ruskii boleh pakai, i.e. if my comprehension of the Russian language was accurate and correct, there would be an autograph session at the end of it all. Unfortunately, Zi, Elise and YX basically tuned out the announcement because it was in Russian so I couldn't double check with anyone if what I heard was true. Guess we just had to wait for the end of the show to find out. (We were tentatively excited anyway.)

Part two. Maksim.

Let me just say he looks super leng zai in the program book. Totally my type. He came on stage, and I kinda had a brain-melt moment. He was so HOT. And superrrr tall. Like, I've seen his MVs, but I never expected him to be so tall.

His first piece was Nostradamus. The whole hall was silent throughout his first performance, probably because we all just kinda died and went to heaven. From the get go, Maksim grabs you by the heart and blows everything clear out of the water. He is a Performer. With a capital P. He is in your face. Loud, confident, melodramatic. I was equally torn throughout the first piece. Because on the one hand, I wanted to kiss him for the ear orgasm. But on the other hand, I also wanted to slap him because I beh tahan him. He bermacam-macam sangat. Pattern-pattern sangat. He is a Drama Queen. And we love him for it. His performances stand out for that very reason.

I was constantly at the edge of my seat throughout his whole program. I didn't dare to move, I couldn't breathe until he paused. He's so dramatic and amazing. His facial expressions are to die for. I cannot reiterate enough that he. is. a. Performer. He belongs on the stage, he's at home when he's in the spotlight. I'm really impressed by the coordination of the accompaniment too, especially when he cues for the track to be played, but the accompaniment parts only join in somewhere in the middle of the piece. Their timing and precision is quite a feat!

For his encore piece, he played the cartoon theme song from Sonic the Hedgehog. I would willingly watch him perform this over and over again because his facial expressions are absolutely priceless. You know how some musicians feel their music? Maksim feels the music and plays with it too. There's a very playful banter sort of energy throughout his performances.

After the performance, we filed out and collected our coats. After a round of taking pictures, as seen here,

And here,

We got in line for the autograph session. I was mildly panicking at this point, because my program had scribbles on Nikola's page. And then Maksim walked by and we were like EFFFFF He's so damn tall. Like seriously tall. (Side note: he looks a lot older than I expected. Like I know his debut was more than 10 years ago, but I wasn't expecting him to age quite that much. Still hot though. And his eyes. So Blue. OMG. *fans self*)

We finally got to the table, and Maksim signed my program, then it was on to Nikola next to him.

I handed him my booklet, and Nikola picked up his pen.
Then he paused.
I mentally cringed as he tilted his head and signed my program. And then he squinted at my scribbles, looked at me (he's like really young and cute), then asked, "Are these your notes?"

Ahhhhhhh.

I was equal parts mortified and fangirling at the same time. Because. Hellooo. Like. He just gave an amazing performance. And he saw my notes. And asked after it.

So obviously I word vomited on the spot. Blabbering on about how I couldn't help it because he was just so amazing. Basically I went straight to fangirl heaven. He was such a great sport about it.

I ran away after that and met up with the girls, reliving my embarrassment and fangirling over and over again.

After the crowd kinda thinned and the line disappeared, we headed back to try and get a group photo. YX gets all the credit here. She handed my phone to a lady who had a DSLR so we'd have someone who knew how to take pictures for us. Then, she caught Nikola's attention, who then got Maksim, and we quickly got into place for our photo.

The crowd literally parted for us in a semicircle. So that was pretty awesome. The four of us girls stood in front with the two pianists in the back.

So none of us girls are particularly tall. So we're used to standing in the front for pictures. And like all considerate people, we're used to checking behind us to ensure we weren't blocking anyone's faces. Elise and I ended up in the centre, and we both turned back at the same time. All I saw were buttons. I looked up. Where I had expected a head, were Maksim's chest and shoulders. I looked even higher, and Maksim was staring down at us (both Elise and I looked up at him at the same time. It was a funny coincidence) and he had a peculiar expression on his face. I think it was amusement? Because he was literally LOOMING over us. Both Elise and I immediately turned around and looked at the ground while trying to control our laughter. Did I mention most of us were already wearing wedges? Didn't help with the height issue at all. Anyway, we got our pictures. :D

As you can see, Nikola was a head taller than all of us. Maksim is almost comically two whole heads taller than me.

So there. My first real celebrity autograph and picture. (And by real celebrity, I mean a celeb I'm genuinely excited to meet. Sorry Nic Teo and Lin Yu Zhong and Juwita etc.)

Kak!

A friend recently shared an article comparing how well mums and maids knew the children. It made for an interesting read, and since I've also been discussing maids with my friends in the past few days, I thought I'd blog a little about this topic.

Foreign Domestic Workers a.k.a. maids a.k.a. kakaks a.k.a. mbak

I know having a full time, live-in maid isn't something common in the West, but my mom grew up with maids, my siblings and I grew up with maids, my younger cousins grew up with maids, almost all my friends grew up with maids - it was just the norm for us. And the few friends that I knew who didn't grow up with a maid had a mom who was a full-time housewife.

Obviously, I knew that not every single family could afford a kakak, but it wasn't until I went abroad to study that I met Malaysians who grew up without a maid (and their moms weren't housewives either!) My first question (after getting over the "culture shock"), was: "but how do you survive?!"


Growing up, I was definitely close with my maids. Not that I wasn't close with my parents - it's just that while they were away at work, it was basically the maid and my grandma (and the occasional relative) at home with us. And because I didn't have a penis, I didn't have a lot of relatives doting upon me or giving me attention (she said, without a trace of resentment in her tone.) So, I looked to my kakak for everything. I was definitely very attached to our maids while I was young.

I spoke Indonesian and English as a child (communicating in Chinese or Hokkien was a nightmare); I cried when my kakak cut herself (i didn't exactly shed tears when my aunt cut herself the next day); I picked up Cantonese watching Hong Kong dramas with my maid; they tied my hair and dressed me up; they came on holidays with us; they wiped away our tears after my parents gave us scoldings and thrashings; they cooked late night suppers for us; they located things we misplaced/didn't put away properly... They did everything. And whenever they went home for Hari Raya holidays, we would tread water (rather miserably) and try to stay afloat until they came back.

I believe we had our very first maid shortly after I was born (Yani), and went through a few (Ani, Isa, Yuli, Tina) until our final one (Siti) who left when I was around 22. The first thought that came to my mind was: but who's going to prepare my curry and rendang bumbu and sambal to bring abroad? 10months being independent and shit in Moscow and I can't go back to enjoying my 2 months in Malaysia with a kakak who would do everything and cook what I wanted to eat? What is life??

As you can probably tell, I'm definitely very pro-maid. My family has been lucky enough to have had good maids and I believe part of it is because my parents were good majikans/employers. Yes, there are maid related horror stories out there, but I believe for the most part, if you treat them well, they'll treat you nicely too. Unless they are genuinely disturbed.

One of the criteria I've set/ my life goal is to be able to afford a kakak before even thinking about having a kid. Unfortunately, maids are getting harder to afford (agent fees are going up - I believe maids are grossly underpaid for all that they do) and Malaysian laws are getting more stringent. Which sucks. Apparently you have to prove that you have kids (under a certain age) or elderly at home that require additional care from a maid. What nonsense is this?! What if I just suck at being an adult?! D:

My oh my...

How does one cling on to such ridiculous assumptions? I've come to accept that our society is ugly and toxic and a cesspit of nastiness, but shouldn't we, as medical students, or one day, doctors, draw a line somewhere?

Who are you to judge a patient's social history? Who are you to make assumptions on how a patient acquired a certain disease, before you even speak to them?

You would judge someone based on the way they look?


You think you're so smart, walking around all high and mighty, assuming everyone else is beneath you - socially and intellectually.

Look at that patient. He/she is here because of a CVD. Obviously he/she ate her way to this disease. It serves him/her right, right? Who cares if it might have been an inheritable condition? No one bothers to learn if his/her societal background might have played a role in the development of this disease. Maybe he/she is already doing his/her best.

Or here's another scenario. You've been told you're meeting a HIV+ve patient. Your first assumptions are that he/she is a drug addict or has multiple sexual partners. Obviously. Good job there. What about the possibility of him/her inheriting it from his/her mom? Or what if their partner cheated on them and gave them HIV? Or what if it was a fuck up at the hospital by an incompetent nurse/doctor/medical student just like you?


We are an ignorant society who rants and raves on the world stage.


And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing. 

Heart vs. Brain

Decisions, decisions…

So I’m at a personal crossroads of sorts. I’m thinking of staying in Moscow over the coming summer.

I mean, accommodation isn’t an issue because I’d have to pay rent for my apartment anyway. And I save approx. RM3k on flight tickets. (Ooooh I could use the money to backpack around Europe. :D)

I return every year for two basic things. Food and company (family and friends). The food I can honestly do without. I’m not crazy for local food. I can eat something once in the summer and it’s enough to tide me over until the next year. In fact, I lose weight every summer when I return home. Without even consciously trying to do so. “Missing” Malaysian food won’t be an issue for me, I guess. On the downside, if I remain in Moscow, I’d likely end up maintaining/gaining weight. Drat.

Most of my friends have started working anyway and we rarely meet up anymore. Besides, most of them are back for good so I’d get to see them when I return in 2016(?) anyway.

Family.

Call me a coward but I can foresee my family’s finances getting tighter in the coming year and I’m a shitty human being for even thinking like that, but it would be so much easier for me to stay away. I won’t have to deal with family drama or nagging relatives. If I miss them I could always Skype home. Right?

But I am subconsciously distancing myself. Or so my family has told me. Repeatedly, over the past months. Maybe the past week has been especially tough; maybe the past months were difficult, but I’m kind of afraid if I don’t return, it’d be like I was turning my back on my family. After all, I chose to stay away, I chose to not put in the effort to keep my family together. I chose the easy way out.

That guilt that I would bear is the only reason I haven’t spoken to my parents about staying back in summer.

Everything else is rational and seemingly easy to decide. But the heart is an ass of an organ. Despite behaving like a thinker most of the time, deep down, the feeler in me always puts up a good fight and mess up all my meticulous plans.

Eye is for Inspiration.

So, what drives you? What keeps you motivated to open your eyes every morning, get out of bed and get on with your life?

I’ve been stuck in-between, a limbo of sorts for the past few months. Not exactly a Uni student, but not yet a proper, working adult. I’ve been working at my parent’s office in the meantime, but being the boss’ daughter = flexibility. So while there are days that I don’t have to go into the office because I’m my mom’s driver while she runs errands, there are also days where I bring work home and continue well into the evening/weekends.

But I digress.

Most of the friends that I know before I went to Moscow have been working/will begin working soon. I’ve been hanging around with them the past two months and it definitely took some time to change out of my Uni-student gears, and got me thinking.

Say you don’t have to work because you have a hypothetical trust fund that goes on forever and ever. What would you do with your life if you didn’t have to wake up at 6 or 7 every morning to go to work?

Do you just regress back into the Uni student lifestyle minus the classes and exams?

How do you find something that you can enjoy doing/pursuing for a long-ish course of time?

I get interested in little projects but they’re mostly of the hangat-hangat tahi ayam variety. I bury myself into a project for days/weeks, and when I’m done I close the chapter and just move on. My passion for things are normally just spikes. Sporadic, jumpy, spikes.

The only thing that has been pretty constant for the past few years is my writing, so I guess that’s the only thing I’ve been using to measure my “growth”. Writing was the primary outlet for all the angst I had inside me, and while I like to think I’ve slightly mellowed out, writing is still my go to outlet whenever I have these angsty flares. But over the years, I’ve dabbled into writing different things. It started out with fanfiction, but I’ve tried my hand with writing a love poem back in summer, and more recently, I’ve been working on haikus.

Most of the time I’m rather iffy with what I’ve written/created, but sometimes I find a line or two that I still love after all this time, and it inspires me somehow, in different ways. It’s like every time I visit it, I add a new layer of meaning to it, or I interpret it differently, and that’s what I want to wake up to.

Finding new layers to our everyday life, discovering the little magic in plain things.

Who needs haters...

...when Chinese families do a darn good job of tearing their own kids down?

Here’s something I’ve never told anyone before. While I was growing up, I’ve always seen myself as less than useless to my family. Feeling like I was useless would have been a treat because the only thing I felt was that I was worse than useless – I was a burden to my family. Being female is sin enough (my parents never made me feel this way, but I had more than enough relatives “subtly” hinting at it) but to make things worse, I had nothing to contribute to the family; I was just another mouth at the table for my parents to feed.

So that might have messed my mind a little. Which is why I absolutely loathe this next part.

I’m sure my family wasn’t the only one who did it. I had friends who experienced it as well while we were all growing up. You know, the kiasu competition of “No la, your child is so much better than mine, my child always <insert various complains here>.

It was like a fucking sin to praise your child. 

If you get 97 on a test, your parents ask why you didn’t get 100 instead. When you do get 100, you don’t get a “good job” or “keep up the good work”, it's merely “other students in her class also get 100” or "but she only got 94 for another subject".

When Chinese parents meet, it’s like a bloody competition of lets-see-who-can-out-praise-the-other-kid-while-putting-down-our-own-kid.

Exhibit A:

-Wah, Mrs. X, your daughter so smart, I hear she got a trophy for the storytelling contest.

-No la, she was lucky. Second place only la. Even her teacher says she’s too playful to focus properly. But your daughter also very talented, she’s taking piano exam this year right?

-Aiya, grade 1 only la. Everybody also learning piano, nothing special la. Her teacher also always complain she don’t practice enough. Too lazy. Don’t know if she can even get distinction or not.

Exhibit B:

-Eh Mrs. B, how did your daughter do for her PMR? She so clever, sure straight A’s no problem wan right?

-Oh no la, she’s not as clever as you think la. Her Mandarin is terrible wan. Everybody also say she like banana. She got B for Mandarin. How about your daughter?

-Oh, B for Mandarin. I hear that subject also very difficult. My daughter got straight A’s but only 7 subjects la, she never take Mandarin because too difficult. Mrs. C’s son also got straight A’s but he took the Mandarin paper as well la.

Ps. Pardon the broken English. It's like, a must when these aunties talk to one another.

Honestly. Can Chinese parents never just come out to their kids and say “You did okay/pretty well” or even a simple “You’re on the right track. Just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing”? I'm not even looking for a praise here!

My parents were never really into comparing us with other kids but I SEE YOU, “caring” relatives and “concerned” parents of our friends. I don't mind healthy competition, after all, it pushes us to excel, but I see through your guise. *squints and points finger at you. Yes you, the one feeling guilty/self conscious. I'm talking to you* What is with your circle of toxic? Keep your hating to yourself and if you gossipy hags want to spread something, spread the damn love.

Back in primary school, I’ve only ever felt like I wasn’t ever good enough, but as I went into secondary school, I slowly learned about politics and disguised boasts. But I beg all parents to stop with the unhealthy competition. Because everytime you mention 7 A's and 1 B for Mandarin, I only hear the “1 B for Mandarin" part. Whenever I hear 10 A1s and 2 A2s, I only hear “2 A2s”. It no longer mattered when you would later on assure me you’re proud of all the A's I got because the only thing that I can think of, are the things I didn't do well enough. It’s already ingrained in my system to look for my own faults even when no one’s looking anymore.

Tonight, my mom told me she liked who I had become after I returned from my 1^st year in Russia. I learned how to appreciate things, cared for my family, and became more thoughtful, helpful, and economical, yadda yadda yadda. (There was obviously a big, fat "But" at the end of her sentence.)

Yes, she’s right. I did change for the better. But you’re acknowledging this 3 years too late, mother dearest. This acknowledgement would’ve been useful back when I was trying to help my siblings change, when I was trying to teach my siblings to be more grateful for what we have.

Instead, I felt as though I was speaking to a wall and my good intentions were ignored/no one even realized I was trying.

Which was why I slowly gave up over the years. The girl who cared too much became the girl who DGAF.

I stopped caring because all my efforts felt futile. If someone had even acknowledged my efforts back then, told me that I was on the right track, maybe I wouldn’t have given up so easily. On them, on myself. Who knows?

If my mother could’ve just opened her mouth three years ago instead of three years too late, maybe, she wouldn’t have to call me selfish today.

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.