i like it, like it, c'mon

i've been a terrible friend!

if there's one thing i should never forget, it's my best friend's birthday! i suck cause i wished her 2 days late.  i fail cause i wished her through whatsapp, the most impersonal way i could wish a friend. so i will try to redeem myself here.

happy birthday, sexy!

i've been told that i stood up for you when someone called you shorty. i was actually telling the person off jokingly but somehow those who heard it thought i meant it. whatever it is, i'd stand up for you anytime! nobody can talk smack about you.

only i can ;P

and let's not forget my sister from another mother wtf. we share the same surname so we are somewhat related, no? well, your birthday is wayyyy over but we haven't celebrated it yet so happy belated birthday to you too! although i do remember not forgetting your birthday and wishing you on the day itself, right?

to the july babies, this one's for you!

new perspective

amy winehouse. 

i first heard about her death when my dad read aloud the breaking news from cnn. i heard it but i wasn't really processing it. when i did, my heart dropped a lil'. truth be told, i've only really ever listened to one song, 'back to black' and that's cause it was the first song in one of the compilation jazz cd's i have. 

then conversations came round about her death. last i checked, her cause of death is unknown but it's one that isn't much of a shocker when you think about it. she had drug and drinking problems. any news surrounding her usually revolved around her substance abuse or really rocky relationship with her ex-husband. the latest news i read about her was when she was booed off stage and then next thing i hear about amy winehouse again was her death. so connecting the dots from what i last read to the sad news of her death, i was honestly not surprised. judging. that was what i did. i was being judgmental about a person i did not personally know. all i knew about her was from the media. and they weren't the kindest when it came to her. every flaw was magnified till i read a very heartfelt, honest and real tribute and account of the disease that is called addiction. 

what made the tribute real was that it came from an unlikely person. russell brand's tribute shed light on a disease that is real and painful. painful to the person suffering from it and worst for loved ones. i am very fortunate that nobody i know suffers from this but i read enough celebrity news to see how it kills the brightest and talented persons in the industry. i took it as the person not appreciating what they have. i understood it as them having all the fame and fortune in the world to not know how to handle it, thus turning to self-destructism. but somehow, russell brand's writings touched a chord and i am seeing it in a different perspective now. i am actually amazed at how well-written the tribute is especially cause it's coming from russell brand, the comedian and husband of katy perry, the dude who in my honest to goodness opinion looks like a man who is in need of a shower! don't ask. yes, i can be super judgmental like everyone else but i always try not to be. and this, this just makes me view russell brand AND amy winehouse in a different light. 

When you love someone who suffers from the disease of addiction you await the phone call. There will be a phone call. The sincere hope is that the call will be from the addict themselves, telling you they’ve had enough, that they’re ready to stop, ready to try something new. Of course though, you fear the other call, the sad nocturnal chime from a friend or relative telling you it’s too late, she’s gone.

Frustratingly it’s not a call you can ever make it must be received. It is impossible to intervene.

I’ve known Amy Winehouse for years. When I first met her around Camden she was just some twit in a pink satin jacket shuffling round bars with mutual friends, most of whom were in cool Indie bands or peripheral Camden figures Withnail-ing their way through life on impotent charisma. Carl Barrat told me that “Winehouse” (which I usually called her and got a kick out of cos it’s kind of funny to call a girl by her surname) was a jazz singer, which struck me as bizarrely anomalous in that crowd. To me with my limited musical knowledge this information placed Amy beyond an invisible boundary of relevance; “Jazz singer? She must be some kind of eccentric” I thought. I chatted to her anyway though, she was after all, a girl, and she was sweet and peculiar but most of all vulnerable.

I was myself at that time barely out of rehab and was thirstily seeking less complicated women so I barely reflected on the now glaringly obvious fact that Winehouse and I shared an affliction, the disease of addiction. All addicts, regardless of the substance or their social status share a consistent and obvious symptom; they’re not quite present when you talk to them. They communicate to you through a barely discernible but un-ignorable veil. Whether a homeless smack head troubling you for 50p for a cup of tea or a coked-up, pinstriped exec foaming off about his “speedboat” there is a toxic aura that prevents connection. They have about them the air of elsewhere, that they’re looking through you to somewhere else they’d rather be. And of course they are. The priority of any addict is to anaesthetise the pain of living to ease the passage of the day with some purchased relief.

From time to time I’d bump into Amy she had good banter so we could chat a bit and have a laugh, she was “a character” but that world was riddled with half cut, doped up chancers, I was one of them, even in early recovery I was kept afloat only by clinging to the bodies of strangers so Winehouse, but for her gentle quirks didn’t especially register.

Then she became massively famous and I was pleased to see her acknowledged but mostly baffled because I’d not experienced her work and this not being the 1950’s I wondered how a “jazz singer” had achieved such cultural prominence. I wasn’t curious enough to do anything so extreme as listen to her music or go to one of her gigs, I was becoming famous myself at the time and that was an all consuming experience. It was only by chance that I attended a Paul Weller gig at the Roundhouse that I ever saw her live.

I arrived late and as I made my way to the audience through the plastic smiles and plastic cups I heard the rolling, wondrous resonance of a female vocal. Entering the space I saw Amy on stage with Weller and his band; and then the awe. The awe that envelops when witnessing a genius. From her oddly dainty presence that voice, a voice that seemed not to come from her but from somewhere beyond even Billie and Ella, from the font of all greatness. A voice that was filled with such power and pain that it was at once entirely human yet laced with the divine. My ears, my mouth, my heart and mind all instantly opened. Winehouse. Winehouse? Winehouse! That twerp, all eyeliner and lager dithering up Chalk Farm Road under a back-combed barnet, the lips that I’d only seen clenching a fishwife fag and dribbling curses now a portal for this holy sound. So now I knew. She wasn’t just some hapless wannabe, yet another pissed up nit who was never gonna make it, nor was she even a ten-a-penny-chanteuse enjoying her fifteen minutes. She was a fucking genius.

Shallow fool that I am I now regarded her in a different light, the light that blazed down from heaven when she sang. That lit her up now and a new phase in our friendship began. She came on a few of my TV and radio shows, I still saw her about but now attended to her with a little more interest. Publicly though, Amy increasingly became defined by her addiction. Our media though is more interested in tragedy than talent, so the ink began to defect from praising her gift to chronicling her downfall. The destructive personal relationships, the blood soaked ballet slippers, the aborted shows, that youtube madness with the baby mice. In the public perception this ephemeral tittle-tattle replaced her timeless talent. This and her manner in our occasional meetings brought home to me the severity of her condition. Addiction is a serious disease; it will end with jail, mental institutions or death. I was 27 years old when through the friendship and help of Chip Somers of the treatment centre, Focus12 I found recovery, through Focus I was introduced to support fellowships for alcoholics and drug addicts which are very easy to find and open to anybody with a desire to stop drinking and without which I would not be alive.

Now Amy Winehouse is dead, like many others whose unnecessary deaths have been retrospectively romanticised, at 27 years old. Whether this tragedy was preventable or not is now irrelevant. It is not preventable today. We have lost a beautiful and talented woman to this disease. Not all addicts have Amy’s incredible talent. Or Kurt’s or Jimi’s or Janis’s, some people just get the affliction. All we can do is adapt the way we view this condition, not as a crime or a romantic affectation but as a disease that will kill. We need to review the way society treats addicts, not as criminals but as sick people in need of care. We need to look at the way our government funds rehabilitation. It is cheaper to rehabilitate an addict than to send them to prison, so criminalisation doesn’t even make economic sense. Not all of us know someone with the incredible talent that Amy had but we all know drunks and junkies and they all need help and the help is out there. All they have to do is pick up the phone and make the call. Or not. Either way, there will be a phone call.

- russell brand 

RIP amy winehouse.  

090711

july 9 marks a significant time in our malaysian history. this is what inspiration, hopes and dreams are made of.

let me tell you honestly, weeks before this date when the online world was buzzing with bersih 2.0, i was clueless. i didn't know what it was about, what it was fighting for and what the implications would be on the country. until a car ride a few weeks ago got me wondering. i was in the back seat, like a child eavesdropping on her parents discussing 'adult' things. except this wasn't my parents but my friends. they were talking about attending bersih while i sat in the backseat silent not because i wasn't included in the conversation but because i didn't know what bersih was about.

not wanting to be left out, i started reading on bersih. from following them on twitter to getting the lowdown on their official website. and that's when i got educated. slowly i started reading up on news and updates leading up to the rally day. i didn't know what to expect on that fateful saturday. i was even worried that people might not show up because of the many obstacles the law enforcement imposed on the week of the rally. roadblocks being the main hindrance, truly testing the patience of the rakyat. but that was not an obstacle at all for the tens of thousands of malaysians, taking the walk of peace.

i wasn't there. i never planned to go. giving excuses of not knowing how to go downtown to convincing myself that the parental units wouldn't let me (i didn't ask so i could be wrong on this) to fearing of getting caught. but i supported the cause. that i did. the only physical way i could show my support was by wearing my yellow t-shirt. i read the live tweets and could only imagine what it was like. by nighttime, videos and news on the rally slowly sprouted all over the web. personal bersih stories were being told on twitter and on youtube. and the PMs responds to the whole incident wound its way to the local news channels, tv and newspapers.

at 12 midnight i caught the midnight news, telling my dad "i want to see what lies are being reported" and what hidden truths indeed. twisting facts and creating reports on things that really didn't matter at all when it came to looking at the bigger picture i.e. businesses being badly affected (apparently business was booming if stories told are to be believed) and how the people who were detained by the police are well taken care of (served good food and given proper resting place). uh-huh, like that really truly matters when we're fighting for a cause that is gonna make a difference.

i didn't think it possible but some of the stories and videos i've read and seen have brought tears to my eyes. i'm tearing up for my country. i'm not the most patriotic person on the street but this, this just made me feel the love. the solidarity, the unity, the peaceful malaysians walking together and helping one another. wow. i wasn't reading a fictional novel, this was the real damn thing! read #bersihstories on twitter, they are truly heartwarming stories of how malaysians reacted to the chaos and havoc provided by the police might i add. being tear gassed, beaten up and manhandled roughly, these are people we trust to protect us. very unfortunate that they chose instead to behave like gangsters. videos and personal accounts are proof of that despite ministers proclaiming otherwise on mainstream media.

what takes the cake is the PM himself. saw a video of him belittling the effects of a tear gas. i'm not gonna say anymore on that. i think there are plenty of videos going around the web that can speak for itself. what's even sadder is the lies being spread by the masses by the mainstream media. lies everywhere on the front page of newspapers to the headlines on local news channels. thankfully, this is the era of social media where both sides of the story can be seen and heard. any form of judgement can be made with basis unlike that of the ones highlighted to the masses, one sided and highly biased. my blood boils every time i read the lies published. like a bad car crash, it's hard for me not to see the lies they spin to keep themselves afloat.

this time, we cannot ignore it. a change is a coming!

think i need a ginger ale

"i would like them to know that i have an interest in pursuing the advertising industry. after attending a talk by a major advertising agency, my passion has been fueled. i'll probably head in that direction after graduating. just so the advertisers should know, i do get curious as to how a great piece of advertisement is produced. i do think about the processes that goes through into producing such great ads. therefore, would love to see the 'inside' of an advertisement and hopefully be part of this creative process which i find highly fascinating."

i wrote that probably around 3 or 4 years ago when i was young, naive and full of optimism. found this stored in one of my many profile descriptions and couldn't help but publish it somewhere permanent so that i can look back at this and reflect.

i should probably tell my young self that i have made it. woohoohoohoo! but as my current self discovers, nothing's permanent. i thought i knew but i don't. even now i still don't. i'm making new discoveries yet again.

experience. nothing, and i mean nothing beats having your own experience. so here i am, collecting experiences and making life decisions one step at a time. prior to my first experience of the real world, i was sheltered and protected. my worries were not national disasters. heck, i probably had no worries except for what should i eat for lunch wtf. but as experiences have taught me, one truth that i have been led to believe would be my alpha and omega wasn't exactly so as experience is teaching me now. what i started out hating is slowly making it's presence felt.

hate comes from fear. fear of failing. fear of rising to the challenge. but with all that i have gathered in my jar, i'm beginning to see a different shade of light and slowly gaining new perspective. despite the uncertainness, i don't fear as much. my level of fear isn't at the level that it was when i first stepped foot outside. if anything, i'm beginning to conquer this fear because i know that

I can do everything through Him who gives me strength (Philippians 4:13) 


my words of comfort. 

i think i wanna marry you

just witnessed 2 hours of metal vs. metal glory in the worst possible seating position which was visually challenging to the eyes and mentally challenging. transformers 3 baybeh.

man, do these people buy advanced tickets or what!? it was FULL HOUSE and we bought tickets noon time which explains the worst possible seating ever. SECOND row from the screen. my butt literally hurt when i walked out of the cinema. i was seating more on the bones of my butt than the 2 'cushions' God so graciously blessed us with. at least the neck was supported. we win some and lose some wtf.

which also explains the visual challenge. man, the screen was huge and it was at a curved angle. we were seated at the side you see so it was just NOT GOOD. at one point, skinny sexy rosie huntington-whiteley looked huge with unattractive shoulders and a face that just smacked my eyes. which was really weird cause shia labeouf who was also in the same shot looked smaller compared to her. whatever it is, the position i was seating in was just uncomfortable and all upclose shots were just distorted from my point of view but in pictures, rosie is really hot. i can't deny that otherwise i'd just sound like a jealous bitch. but i know better than to compare myself to a victoria's secret model. just saying. ( fyi, i'm refraining from putting in hashtags in here. signs of me being a twitwhore wtf)

image taken from here

discomfort aside, i thought this movie was pretty awesome visually. you've got the cool machines, cars, lady and leading man with a great movie score. what more do you want from a blockbuster movie? nobody really cares about the acting. i've read reviews that mentioned rosie's acting made megan fox's look like shakespeare. seriously, people!? let's not be so harsh on a movie that intends to kick box-office butt. we leave the harsh criticism to the oscars. i'd spend rm10 again on this movie but with a better view next time. wait, i take that back. i'd wait to catch it on HBO HD cause honestly, with HD tv, cinema reel quality is just so blah. all those lines and blurs, HD tv has spoiled me wtf.

to be honest, i didn't really catch the storyline cause at some point i would get distracted and not pay attention to the dialogue but trust me, you'll get it eventually. all you need to know is that there's a war between the autobots and decepticons. as the previous 2 transformers have established wtf.

tranformers 3: dark of the moon is a movie for those who are into this sort of thing. my mum commented that it was such a 'kiddie movie' oh the blasphemy and my dad, i think he enjoyed it although i did catch him snoozing at the slow bits. my brother was captivated throughout and me? i actually like it. i'd say that if you enjoyed fast five and thor, this would be up your alley too just cause it's a movie with loud action. i love my romantic comedies just as much as i love my action flicks! the sound of metal crushing metal is music to my ears. by the way, john malkovich is in it too! i found that really cool i dont know why.

ps: i really like shia labeouf. now that is the kind of guy i would like to date.