beSt scRibBLinG

grafitti stricken walls all over tribe and nearby lot areas, all hire the same guy to do the work on their shop too

wElcOme tO thE juNgLE!

my weekend of extreme madness.. game face didnt work this time

boYs - "iDioTs" u caNt livE wiThout!

so you see, for some reason they had "rules" to this game they called, "gladiator"

then next they put their heads to the paper (i mean weapon) and spin.. well i guess the smarter ones cheated

and this is how it goes.. using their 'weapons' they just beat the hell out of each other! apparently its something theyve always wanted to do. of course, for us girls it was entertaining..

the punishment for those who cheat was not pretty....

pErHapS i SuCk aT tHis

dear jess,

have you had one of those days where you doubt what you do? where you reckon that you werent meant for this; perhaps? i have those doubts, every week, if im lucky, if im not, more than one time every week.

i reach a point where i ask myself, maybe im not meant to teach. maybe i actually suck at what i do.

that's what a job where you dont sit in a cubicle does to you. it makes you wonder. thats what a job when you cant gage satisfaction, amount of work done does to you. thats what you do when you decide to live on passion. thats how you will pay.

im not a disciplinarian. i dont know how to tell these idiots what they should and shouldn't do. maybe i'll learn someday and until then i will have to feed my depression by eating three meals after eight when i doubt myself.

i just needed to tell someone. and now that i have, i'm off for a holiday.

yours,
jess

i wOnDeR wHo rEaDs tHiS aNyWaY..

dear jess,

i guess its true they say you cant teach old dogs new tricks. i played with the thought of "advertising" my intentions as a post, and instead i ended up writting a letter to you. i don feel it is right if i betray my style now and advertise. ill probably just fit it on the sidebars instead.

i hate to gloat. ops wait, who am i kidding, maybe i do like to gloat. who doesnt? at least im honest. you know how sometimes you meet someone and they have a glare at you that goes "so what are you doing with your life now?" and they subsequently go on to say how well off they are and what big shot jobs they have? well my challenges in covetousness come from people who go "have you seen my play?" and i slowly creep into my hole knowing i auditioned for it, failed and now i have to watch some idiots (i say this lovingly) performing the damn thing. perhaps i think i like to gloat is because i have nothing to gloat about.

regardless. i've forgotten the point.

yes, advertise. i was going to "advertise" something but i've decided to just include it into the sidebars. as for the gloating. well i have to wait a year for the launch of what i shall perhaps aptly name "making my mark in the world."

yes. like as if you hadn't realised already how strange iam.

yours,

jess

doNt RoCk tHe bOaT

dear jess,

i went into the treasure of a chest bookstore, silverfish books, the only one place in this country where you can find malaysian books, scripts and films by theatre practitioners, activist and the independent, non popular and forever controversial works of such people.

my aim and idealisation, like everything else in my life was to acquire a malaysian film so that i can be the first to show an independent malaysian film to my students and perhaps inspire them. i brought home amir's dvd instead of james lee's and watched six shorts. i had to cancel out two of those short film because they had bad words, and still include one with a prior "kids theres an f word in there, once" and hope to death i don get fired. and then out of the few that i pick. and as i watch i wonder what will a person of this race think if he watched. will he get upset and claim that im putting this up as a way to cause some form of uprising and brain washing? i decide to take that risk.

as i watch some more i find it brilliant in the simplest way. you know why? because someone is telling the truth. ill be damned, it isnt me. as i watch i think about several people who will appreciate it, the discussion of the identity card, amongst others.

iam apparently on my way to being a postgraduate in performing arts. this is my first time i am watching an amir muhammad film. his latest, lelaki komunis terakhir has been banned here, but not in our neighbouring country. the dvd i have includes an interesting excerpt of the post discussion of community leaders on the film, and the issue of it being banned.

you see.

someone has made films just by telling the truth.

i am simply showing some of those to a bunch of my kids so that i hope that someone will in turn try to make things better by telling the truth.

so how come its not me?

fear is power,

jess

i reckon that we live in denial. me included. we live here and yet we dont count ourselves as being here. how many local literature, tapes, cd, dvd do we own? we are so quick to say that nothing good can come out of our own country. and then quickly complain about our neighbours and how they rely on us for water.

bLacK hOpEs anD reVeLatIoNs

dear jess,

does it feel like you are rotting inside while outside you remain inhumanely fresh. does it feel like you have nothing left in your soul or your heart and that you just hope its a feeling that will past. does it feel like you're standing on trial and everyone, if not now, soon enough will betray you.

sometimes i let myself stay in guilt, so as to be able to punish myself and to tell myself that i dont deserve any better. and then there are days i never knew when i wake up and think the feeling will past but it doesnt. look over my shoulder, think of ways to avoid it, wonder what ill do and end up knowing that im helpless.

i have become a bitter repurcussion of me. i did this and iam this. and every once in a while i feel like im being eaten alive inside, piece after piece till this is all iam left.

yours,

jess

flyin the flag for everyone to see..

the life chapel's 40th anniversary pictures on jess'sflickr taken by the new and long awaited love of her life, which she has named joaquin ;) enjoy!

HaveNt cHaLkEd mY shOes yeT aGaiN

dear jess,

you know how it is, when sometime in your life, you meet people you havent seen for years and it comes back like a sweet gush of memories when we all sit down and talk about the boy who had a big hole in his pajama's, the girl who in university broke the egg for the 'egg test' during orientation, the boy who actually got up and sang 'lemon tree' with actions and it just goes on. and on.

everyone has that high school or university memory. and it will always be sweet.

then after more than several years meeting people in your past is like a moment when you feel that you want to be so much a part of their lives again, to relive the past and the moment is slowly overcomed by the sense that maybe in the present we dont have anything in common, except the past.

perhaps sometimes its because we like to live the past memories nicely in tact and then once every few years when one of us gets married, we can open the box and relive them. i guess that gives us assurance we'll always have material to talk about.

i was the one where the boy with a hole in his pyjama's wrote me a song, entitled little brown girl. and if that sounds like its suppose to be touchy, mushy and sweet, its not. i know what it is. its the sweet past that we wish we can still hang on to today, and yet we know it cant happen so we dont hope for it too.

for what its worth, it was definitely some of the best years of my life.

yours,

jess

iM coMinG hOme, wiLL yOu?

dear jess,

language is a strange thing. some things should never be translated. i remember people who tell me that they cant or wont listen to malay songs. to say they dunno what they're missing is an understatement.

Aku tak percaya lagi
dengan apa yang kau beri
Aku terdampar di sini
tersudut menunggu mati

Aku tak percaya lagi
akan guna matahari
Dengan mampu menerangi
sudut gelap hati ini

Aku berhenti berharap
dan menunggu datang gelap
Sampai nanti suatu saat
tak ada cinta kudapat

Kenapa ada derita
bila bahagia tercipta
Kenapa ada sang hitam
bila putih menyenangkan…

Chorus:Aku pulang…tanpa dendam
Kuterima.. kekalahanku
Aku pulang…tanpa dendam
Kusalutkan.. kemenanganmu

Bridge:Kau ajarkan aku bahagia
Kau ajarkan aku derita
Kau tunjukkan aku bahagia
Kau tunjukkan aku derita
Kau berikan aku bahagia
Kau berikan aku derita

Berhenti Berharap by Sheila on 7

dont take my word for it. i promise you there is no way you can hear this song without being moved. one wonders, how every now and then music that lives up to its definition passes us by..

itu kamu, (nama lagu dari kumpulan estranged ;)
jess

loVe diScRimiNAteS

dear jess,

remember how it was when we were growing up, girls would ask each other "whats ur ideal guy like?" and then we'd say something stupid like, nice eyes, etc etc. and remember how when we went for camps, people speaking would say, "make a list, so we know what to look for?" and then, we would idealise that we "deserve" that man because we are oh so great.

and then we'd walk in the shopping malls and say how that pretty girl shouldnt be with that ugly guy, or how that fat chick shouldn't be with the skinny dude.

its just that, i suppose we've been brought up to think that the very idea of love is something that we can dictate and have control over. perhaps there are some types of people we are prone to not fall in love with, others that we are, and then others that we never expect too.

the love checklist, however is blocked by the idea that it defines our "principles" and what we "should" look for in a guy. perhaps whats important to us and what should be important to him as well. if he fits just one or two criterias in the list, perhaps ill just force him to fit in the rest eventually.

we asians plan e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. even who we should fall in love. good luck with that.

yours,
jess

wHat's SpeCiaL abOuT bEinG sPeciAL?

dear jess,

we all like to think that we are special. the believe that we are different and that we contribute something unique to the world in some ways gives us reasons to continue living. sometimes we are so blinded at being "special" that we never realise that the term has somehow evolved since.

i suppose you can tell what a person takes pride in, in what he shows off, or if you like, in what he prizes. and some people prize in the strangest things. some people prize in being able to eat like a pig and not gain weight, or lose the weight in a week. others prize in the achievements of finishing their studies quickly, and still others because they managed to get hitched.

the modern day "special" isnt always nice and we sometimes use it on people who are deemed to be slower than us, or people way faster than us. someone once said that talent is a burden, its "a curse, a blessing"

does being special mean that you are the last three siblings of a generation only with your surname? you're probably just one of a hundred, if not thousands of rodrigues's, lim's or wong's. but then what happens when you are really special and you by some freak of nature end up being the only male left with your surname to populate the next generation?

being special isnt what its made out to be. But then again nothing ever really is. sometimes we just need to tell our children, that being normal is good; well that is unless of course you're that last remaining male of your ancestry.

yours,

jess

stUff iT

dear jess,

there is no apparent reason to write, no "agendas," no mindless philosophical debates, nothing, yet. i hate surprises, unless it was from someone im dating, my family or someone really close to me. otherwise i wouldnt consider a bunch of frens turning up at my house to give me cake a surprise, especially if i hadnt talked to them in the last few months or so.

i use to be the most unsurpriseable person in the world and id guess whatever surprise it was headed my way. so i guess when someone offers to take you out for dinner but instead decides to make the arrangemenst with my mother, i find that more than a tad irritating. however, in the spirit of trying to be nice, ive decided that maybe the intention outweighs the strangeness of going about such things.

the worse part about "surprises" is that it often ends up to be about the person surprising you, because you draw on your rusty melodramatic skills and feel oblige to go "oh thats soo awesome! i didnt expect that!"

all i have to say is. im gonna go fishing next week. :) salt water fishing, the kind where you wait for two hours before your first bite, and then reel in in anticipation as your fish fights the hell out of you to stay in the water, and you go "ohh thats awesome, i didnt expect that." and my fish wil just jump up and go "surprise"

yours,
jess

aRe yOu thE onE thEy cALL a hERo?

dear jess,

you know the feeling? the one where you thought, as a youth, you were going to make a difference? and then, money came along, and you thought i'll do it when i have bought my first PDA, my first laptop, my first house...

and then instead you thought, that what you really want, is the best for yourself. so you decide to leave, because someone once said, its better to be a third class citizen in another country than a second class in yours.

and then you decide, you're not happy, so you travel, because you can now afford to. first class seats, five star hotel and a tour guide to tell you whats nice.

then when you have children, you finally tell your children to make a difference in the world, or most of the time you just tell them to make as much money as they can and make a difference in your life.

someone once told me that when he came back from being overseas, all his friends could talk about was what new gadget they now own. pause and think what are we if all we have to our worth is a technology put together by somebody else.

hush now, we weren't meant to rock this boat. the country is too many men complaining about the few men conspiring against whats best for us. what difference would we be if we didnt do our best to seek out those who needs us the most?

yours, but are you mine?
jess

this is how i look like after only an hour and a half worth of sleep in twenty four hours..

We ArE wHat oUr faThErs WeRe yEsTeRdaY..

dear jess,

on days when i dont have the one i love or an obligation to work or studies that help distract me from life, i am but to be left with thoughts, a cup of coffee and people to irritate me. well, i did pick up a new hobby. skectching.

the thing is i use to hate drawing. i couldnt draw, and probably still cant. i cant even draw a straight line with a ruler, but my claim will be that if u have legs, u can dance, and i suppose if u have hands, patience, a sketch book. a 7b pencil, who knows. after all they think picasso is a genius.

do u know how they say that those who cant do, teach? this may be true. but i think perhaps it would be better phrased this way. those who cant teach, do. you see, teaching, is probably the most horrifying job in the world. and im starting to despise the modern young know-it-all generation. everyone says that children these days are smarter. i say, they are a bunch of smart arses.

so, when i do my best to teach people a simple thing like making their faces up, so that some day when im gone, at this rate im hoping sooner than later, they shouldnt question with their shrill, annoying voice, WHY? why should i put my own make up when someone else can do it for me?

that creates me to ask me why? why am i doing this? and to be honest, i dont think i know anymore. i've felt that way today, last week, maybe even last year. the truth is, im tired. tired of doing what i thought i love doing to people who dont.

i dont know how to draw. i have to be honest. i have no idea what rule number one is. and you know, my mum is a great visual artist, and im not saying that because she's my mum. perhaps, when i ask her some tips tomorrow, ill just leave her the sketch book, 7b pencil and eraser; after all she might make a mistake.

lets toast to the modernism we're so proud of; a land of immense knowledge and instantly thingratified ever-y-thing.

typing on behalf of her,

jess

wHo YoU cALLiNg FAt??

dear jess,

ive been hesitating about this letter for some time now. its probably because there is a myrid of things in my head and i don quite know how to phrase it. you see, someone made aware of a typical malaysian problem the other day, she aptly phrased as the middle class fat man syndrome.

apparently the education system hasnt taught us to think and secondly if we do think we dont do anything about it. this is true cos we all grumble but dont make that call, write that letter, say out loud what we should to make a change in our country, in our church and in the places we were destined to be.

she went on to use me as an example and yet contradicted herself by saying im not sayin u, "im taht way too, but u see if you were doing a thesis on this you wouldve bought the tickets to that performance weeks ahead, and you wouldve watch all the videos, but in reality i know you wont."

fellow malaysians, let me just say this, that until very recently i have been as detached from this country as someone who might as well be living in another country. yes, perhaps it is true that the greatest "achievement" is if the nation is one that doesnt think and just follows? i agree that most of us should say something but most of the time we dont..

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i learned the other day that the man who won one of the first local newspapers playwright competition and is until today famed for that, actually handed in an unoriginal script.

do you really want to know what the "country's problem" is?

perhaps it is that we dont think or we dont say our opinions cos we are afraid; but first and foremost i think we should just all be nicer. and then, and then we can work on the fat man syndrome.

yes, somethings are that simple.

yours,

jess

welcome to my island in the sun...

panuba inn

home.. for a while

dead corals

the dead corals, look like something out of LOTR

the stretch of beach where i stayed at

coral island

the only explanation for something this good, is that no one lives here

hitting the rocks

glorious

snorkelling day

niceeee

here fishhhyy

i feeL pRettY, oH so prettY

sunset

you can never have one too many..

everyone had their camera's ready to catch the perfect picture of the sunset..

basking

ah, what a way to end the day

water lizards

sure they look cute now..

the pEe-piNg tOm LiZard

that was the toilet, and that was probably the same lizard peekin in to freak me out.

big mama

my bro in law would have probably caught them and barbaqued them..

lizards

the sign in smaller print says watch lizards making 'heart'

LeAvinG mAkEs bEinG bAcK GoOd aNd LeaViNg aGaiN bEtTeR..

dear jess,

so I did it. I was irresponsible by choice. *smile* I left everythin undone and went on a holiday! I packed my backpack, got on a bus and then a speedboat that would kill anyone who was claustrophobic and made my way to the island of tioman. Was it worth it? Hell, yeah. Well, that is until I suffer the repercussions in the next couple of days doing work that should be stretched over several days, if not weeks.

I think going to the best stretch of islands and beaches in Malaysia which of course is borneo somehow makes all other island not as nice. However tioman had most of it, clear water, white sandy beaches- on coral island, the beach was like powder under my feet!, reasonable prices on some stretches, duty free on others and really nice locals.

I went snorkeling at two different areas and of course it was lovely. I saw strange fishes, and the boat man didn’t hesitate to get all of us soaking wet with the splashes before I reached the snorkeling spot! It was like sitting on a roller coaster ride somewhat.

The ‘worse’ part of my trip was when we had lunch at one of the beaches which had these monitor lizards. The day before we trekked through some jungle and saw the land lizards and the next day I saw these water ones, first I saw two and then I was like "hey nice". So before lunch I made my way to the toilet and there they were, at least fifteen, walking out towards the toilet which lay about three meters before me! I rushed into it and closed the door, and started to worry desperately. When I got out, one of them had his head in my door! I peeked out and thought I could make a run for it but they were all there, almost as if they were waiting for me. Mind you, they are as ‘tall’ as me, tail and all! i sheepishly had to walk through the kitchen to make my way back without facing the fifteen slithery creatures.

I’ve also realized that certain stereotype are somewhat true and as always interesting; like the girls of a certain hereditary always like to take pictures with a “peace” sign and the boys like to be all “techy” with their tripod, and camera, making sure you know they’ve got the latest gizmo’s whilst some others for one reason or another are still afraid of water. Im still figuring out how come we act the way we’re born. That’s besides the point.

Well, I got back to Malacca soon enough and had my ritualized asam pedas that was as lovely as ever. I discovered the air batu campur (ABC) that was still being made the old way, red sugar, milk, ice, biscuit and of course buah tap. The thing is, I don’t like ABC all that much and I love this one, william, i think he is, has been making it the same since he’s been there, and being in his shop, was as much an experience as eating the ABC. It was old, people were sitting outside talking, his ice shaving machine was the old green one, the works. I’m sure it feels like that in some shops in KL too, but there’ll always be something bout the old city that’s close to me. Didn’t get to go to my chicken ball rice man at 4.30 am after fishing at the pond by the sea like I always do, but what can I say, I went snorkeling this week and fell asleep on a beach and a girl who’s done that shouldn’t be allowed to complain.

And. Someone ate my Malacca wan ton mee! So i came home and bought the KL version of it. *bleah*

Right, can’t complain. Can’t complain… oh! and i saw my first puffer fish at the pond! amazing creatures... cute and dangerous, hmm alot like women. still, i think it was so cute and am disappointed i didnt have the camere then.

ps. i'll post my pictures later.

What I dream of is an art of balance, of purity and serenity devoid of troubling or depressing subject matter. Henri Matisse

love,

jess

oNe LaSt KoPEk!!!!!!!!!

dear jess

It’s the final league of the race, well sort of. You’ve come to a point where its time to pull out the bikini’s and go to the beach, this week; regardless of how that thesis turns out.

Its almost like if you see it too much you might puke it out in the toilet. And to think; after I’m done with this I have more projects with my oh-so-legendary lecturer. Of course im thrilled but at the same time perplexed.

So, I am going to pack my bikini’s and head for the beach, at least that’s what I think. I have this overwhelming need to lie on the beach and do nothing at whatever point it will be in my thesis.

Tomorrow, when I go to collect my load of work for what in my mind; will be the final changes, I’ll close one eye when I see the amount of work I have to do and sulk back home.

And that will determine me coming back and unpacking or being the slacker I am, perhaps continue packing and leave the thesis to correct itself; just for a bit at least until I’ve done 20 hours of lying in the sun by the beach.

My oath is that I guarantee ill be a much better person and a more hardworking one, just after 3 hours of that.

Yours,
jess

portuguese laksa

ladies and gentlemen, this is what curry mee was meant to be.. the most beautiful form of food on the face of the earth... we call it curry laksa, and its actually what KLians call curry mee but this is hugely different, curry leaves, sambal kerang, and thick curry gravy, chilli sambal. im salivating..

sooooooooooooooo awesome

chocolate giant doughnut. no, seriously chocolate cake, with chocolate sauce and topped with vanilla ice cream if you like..

hOt fRy, oR sOmeThiNg LiKe iT

pai tee

pOrKKKKKKK

mmmmm

before the egg hatches..

the doctors said i was going to get a baby spongebob

but.. i got you instead!

if only they could bite..

meet my "controversial" new shoes that have gotten me a little too much attention, with people feeling the need to coment "eee your shoes so orange i can see from the stage" to "teacher, you're wearing florouscent orange shoes!!"

i love them :) and to think i wanted the pink ones..

tHe gOod, thE bAd aNd tHe uGLy...

dear jess,

there are several paths we need to choose from. or if we're not so lucky, we're forced to choose from. alot of times we wonder what are we here for, and if our meager existance has been accounted for.

some days i feel like i live in the bronx, not that ive ever been there to make a comparison. after a few months of my unknown perpetrator trying to enter my car, ruebens car gets robbed into, leaving the car window smashed. all because he had parked a few doors down. with less than 3 hours of sleep i had to meet mark teh, who was sweet with that unassuming grace i mentioned.

so, as i was saying. paths. having met two people in the arts scene my brain has been left working overtime. i suppose i couldnt have been so naive to expect that meeting passionate people would have not affected me in the least bit? but alas, i suppose i did.

and now im left to ponder with one too many things. one too many things that have questioned what im doing and left me to wonder if its right, wrong or even necessary.

for all the people who thrive to make the world better, more meaningful, something that leaves audiences to think, there's ten others to make the world worse.

do you reckon that we are people living mundane lives unaccounted for? shouldnt everyone be passionate about at least one thing? i remember once at bible study someone said that the mundanity is part of a normal life and that something along the lines of God wanting us to just live that way as long as we are good christians.
shouldnt we strive for more?

i guess at some point last year, all i wanted to do was stay in bed. and stay there and away from people as long as i could. talented and "great" people made me afraid. afraid that in that i would reveal my own weaknesses.

talent is something i cant fix, but my fear is.

come with me on this journey? and when you get there you can tell me it was all worth while? and ill do the same for you.

yours,
jess

whY DId THe cHicKen cRoSs thE roAD?

unassuming.

dear jess.

come friday and other days i will have to interview the unassuming journalist cum artist, and before that the young chap who just happens to be an accomplished artist dabbling in political issues. then, when im done with them i have to interview people who have been in the arts since the dawn of time, dancers, actors, directors who just happens to be great at what they do.

after goofing off with food, family and gambling, the time has come for me to officially go in to panic mode, cum scatter brain mode cum dont stress me out mode? see, im already becoming scattered brained.

you know that you've met great people; when they talk, you are in awed of them and then you know you've met not so great people when you wonder when they'll stop talking. its funny that when and if you ever become someone "great" that you can also be generous.

truth is. in my brains im telling myself they're just people and remindng me that God hasnt given me a "spirit of fear" - thats my resolution this year. but somehow as much as im trying not to think that i'll somehow screw up by asking a stupid question, spilling my coffee, not recording the interview, forgetting the questions, laughing till i snort.... perhaps im just thankful that i get to meet 'the greats.'

i know what you're thinking. that i may end this letter saying predictably that im aiming my life to be one of the greats? au contraire! being great takes energy, effort and unassuming grace- all of which i not only have, i plan not to either.

of course, no one plans to be great, it just happen's to be their "destiny."

i dont really have a point to this. perhaps ive been watching too much heroes and perhaps i too have been thinking what my destiny be, come the time. the fight for individuality to be something other than someone in a cubicle, in the midst of other cubicles, in the midst of offices, in the midst of more offices. was that their destiny?

there's one thing i know. i should be working on my ticking time bomb than writting you this letter.

ps. im still in shock that my cynical half tells me "bolsters" only exist in malaysia, well that is in comparison to the countries she's been to. *blink*

yours,

jess

i'Ve bEeN... mAkiNG sAngRiA's!

dear jess

Im thrilled that the year is almost coming to an end. Usually cny is nothing but an eating fest for me and my other half; my stomach. But something is different “this year.” Perhaps it is that im viewing the year as starting tomorrow, perhaps its that many things will be ending and starting soon, perhaps it’s the promise of going places, seeing people and perhaps, just perhaps it’s the new, and not necessarily nice unknown.

For once, all of it feels good, even if it might be bad. Perhaps its also the fact that eating a lot makes me happy, and therefore whatever the unknown may be it will be okay.

"destiny is not a matter of chance, it is a matter of choice. it is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved "-william jennings bryan

yours,

jess

i DonT beLIEVe THAT....

thEre Are aCtuALLy cHocoLAteS WAYYYYYY tooooo yuMMy to EAT!!!!!!!!!

tReatEd to SomE coMedY

malaysia's very own comedians. definitely the most succesful. and well, i guess i'll have to watch them more since my prediction that russell peters wasnt gonna make it here has come through. BUT go watch comedy courts next show. i promise, no regrets. www.comedycourt.com.my

the abandon buildings at sentul park. hauntingly beautiful

hApPy V-DaY :)

You Are A Realist

When it comes to romance, you tend to take a realistic approach. You believe that love takes time, and it's something you have to work hard for. A bit cynical, over the top romance tends to get under your skin. Your heart is difficult to win ... but it's totally worth it.

Are You Romantic or Realistic?

wHere iS mY biG bLacK hOrSe aNd a ChErRy tReE?

dear jess,

after living for almost THREE decades (well soon enough) and speaking the same language all this time, you'd think you got it down?

well, i guess not. apparently i need someone to help me out with my language on my ever being worked at thesis. my scatterbrain-ness (this is how i deteriorate my language) is showing and ive got information here, there, past and present tenses, everywhere else.

the only girl i know who has the qualifications to read my nonsense is busy with her own nonsense and is getting only four hours of sleep. well, at least she wont be needing to find an extra person to read her stuff for language :)

i think i need to sound smart. and we all know thats not gonna happen anytime soon. Anyone needs an extra reading material?

ps. if there were any mistakes in my letter, it wasnt mean as a joke within a joke. yes i think i really do need help :)

thank God for kt tunstall :) two seconds of her and your spirits are all lifted up.

A writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people. -Thomas Mann

yours,

jess

wHo oN eArtH LivEs liKe tHis?????

i dO !!!

if my mind had a face, it'll look like this about now..

sLeEp WaLkiNg

dear jess,

its a new year, with new beginnings. yeap, me and my cynical half have decided that our new year only begins at CNY. both our "western" years started out horrificly bad, so we've decided, its only but the end of the year now, and we're coming to new beginning really soon.

and with that, ive been dawned upon on my last year and how strangely horrible it was. no one died. in fact that was the reason why it was so horrible. it was normal. the worse of all, i had stopped dreaming. i stopped reading coehlo, yes he is essential to me dreaming; however i am essential to my dreaming. you can read but not be touched, dream but not be moved, act but never be elated. and worse of all live, but not be alive.

that has been me. ive been that simply because i didnt know anymore, and didnt want too anymore, and honestly, simply because it seemed easier.

this year, i want to dream. i lost my spirit when i wasnt and i hope i find it back. some of my dreams may never come true but if i stop, some of my living will never be.

its time to stop being the baker.

"The old man pointed to a baker standing in his shop window at one corner of the plaza. "when he was a child, that man wanted to travel, too. But he decided first to buy his bakery and put some money aside, When he's an old man, he's going to spend a month in Africa. he never realized that people are capable, at any time in their lives, of doing what they dream of."

The Alchemist, Coehlo

yours going to sleep every minute of the day,
jess

nO sHaME!!

dear jess

I have a month. One month to finish what ive started almost five years ago. Yes five years. I frequently use to get asked the question, but worse still I use to get the “look” when I did finally answer.

What? You’re not done with your masters yet? Naturally I would get the look that says “she’s dumb” and all this from people who don’t even have their postgrad. And to be honest I use to squirm and shun from the question because I too taught that that was my failure. Taking such a damn long time.

Then I realized. I took a year and a half to do my coursework, and two years I spend doing a research that eventually proved futile. I had to rewrite my whole thesis, from scratch. I had wasted two years and probably more.

So I had to start all over again. And in my human nature I failed many times to do my best, seen through a thousand drafts and cried a million times.

The worse part is, me and my legendary lecturer have decided that I should finish my work in a month. To avoid administration complications. A month that I had initially planned to stretch out to three!

What’s important though is that for the last four years I have been afraid of saying; yes my masters is still a work in progress and I swear half the world that doesn’t know me, assumes I have already graduated.

No more shame. I am where I am at. yes ive taken ages, and no one except my God and me will know what its been like. Perhaps this courage will feel as good as when i finally do make it to the end. we'll see.

And when I think of my calling, im not afraid of life.
Nina in The Sea Gull, Anton Chekhov

yours out of coffee, and in need of more hours in a day,

jess

oNe baBy wiTh pErsoNaliTy pLeasE

dear jess,

ive been meaning to put this picture up and share with you about this boy.. before your ears start to stick up high in the air and wonder if i will be talking about the "love of my life" its really about a two year old boy.

but i think its about 5 times that ive been meaning to put his picture and then i go nah. this whole issue about 'responsible blogging,' and how we dont hide beneath he mask of anonimity represents my hesitation to put the picture of "my" two year old darling's picture. after all i hadnt asked permission.

the thing is. you know something special when u see one.

the truth is. there are many "ugly" kids; honesty sucks. but we love them anyway.

so ive decided. if i ever had a kid he has to have to be like this one! im pressuring my non existant kid already!

its hard to explain a two year old who has personality and adoring face!

you see, this two year old, can dribble and kick a ball, harder and straighter than some adults. its strange that i should miss a kid who isnt related to me, and at the risk of soudning like a sick puppy, he would come up to you and say "go walking" and proceed to go play with his football and when he kicks, he goes "ooooohhh" like it was the best damn thing that has happened.

perhaps the cutest thing is the way he shouts "BABY" to his cousins ten, fifteen, years older than him, because they're short.

i dont usually write about things mushy and at the risk of sounding like a proud parent, this really is a one in a million boy.

yours on a break from cynicism,
jess

*duMbFouNdEd* wiTh thE dUmB

dear jess

this is the reason why i dont bother with people too much. i recommend and offer to loan my theatre book to my fellow theatre lecturer (apparently we're lecturers) and she goes "yeah photostate for me."

*blink blink* wait i have to go to the shop and photostate my book for YOU, the person who wants to loan MY book?

*blink blink*

*blink*

*blllliiinnkkkkk*

now seriously, can someone please tell me if my forehead reads "walk all over me, and while you're there take a picture."

some days i just cant deal with human beings.

yours,

jess

im GriEviNg foR yOu?

dear jess,

Im grieving a pain I thought was long gone. Perhaps ive denied you too long, for too much. Perhaps its just the desire that’s unexplainable and so painful that makes you cry. Its just so hard living without you..

in an attempt to sound as non dramatic as i can, i dont think i can survive if i dont find either of you. i wish i was a simpler person who was contented with the normalities of life. woe is me

i realise how much i miss you both. but oh will i ever get to be with you again?

yours,
The heartbroken, depressed again jess

the blurred out picture, as there are too many sharp things already.

Me and the rest at the Importance of Being Earnest

Bernie, me, shah and megat goofin around in

d dressing room during production of OTC

sUgaR anD sPicE anD aLL thiNgS niCE??

dear jess,

He told me that he was afraid of talking to me because he thinks that perhaps I don’t like him. Well maybe in some ways I don’t actually like him, or maybe in other ways I just don’t want to like him.

In a crude, mean and “im an old maid” way, I was so pleased to be told that ‘I was feared’ and that ‘I don know what goes on in your mind.’

More pleased than I would’ve expected. You see, ive always seen myself as someone that everyone walks over. Perhaps its my own fault that I let them.

Heres my reply. Im sorry, but you know im just the kind of person who doesn’t want to be close to many people. Because they’ve always disappoint me. at the very moment you think I sound arrogant and you’re probably right, I’m not looking for someone superhuman. its just that some people you let in your hearts, disappoint you one too many.

Im pretty happy where im at, intimidating people I never knew I was capable of. You see, at some point I wasn’t always cynical. In fact on some days when cynicism takes a holiday to Mauritius, I make that call for tea to the “friend” who betrayed me. But since holidays don’t come too easy, be prepared to be afraid. A concept of me I still find hilarious and unfathomable.

yours, and yet in reality, that isnt true,

jess

wHat wiLL bE neW abOut thE nEw yeAr?

dear jess,

so, in reality i dont have much to say to you. however, ive been thinking about one motivating factor that will help me get through this year. yes, perhaps im that much of a suicidal that i have not much reason or motivation in life. or in reality i am just a slacker, and it doesnt worry me much that i have no motivation to thrive in the new year. *bleah* hate the overachievers.

so anyways, i have found one, actually two things to look forward to the whole year and to get me through teaching a class of 12 boys and 2 girls, surviving the mundanity, and live in anticipation.

still in retrospect i did learn how to fish this year, and swim the year before. maybe it hasnt been too bad? and surprisingly i thoroughly enjoy doing the two. and for those who think fishing is boring, they sure havent fished for real.

i digress.

as for my anticipation? i shan't jinx it.

its time to go to bed and wake up to mundanity. *groans*

yours,
jess

cHaLkS, a ThiNg oF thE pASt

dear jess,

have you wondered, if you wondered in retrospect whether you did the right thing that perhaps you didnt? because if you are pondering about it right now it means that youre really regretting not doing something that you shouldve done.

its one of those spur of the moment things that requires you to find the voice deep within. should i have fought that fight? do i pick this one or is being quite the best way out now?

the thing is. i dont really know.

right now the girl who told me she wants to do theatre is going to do dance. and i wonder should i have said more despite them not believing that she said she wanted to , despite she putting dance as her first choice in the past, despite having already been shot down by the teachers? despite being my first time in the discussion?

and yet i didnt. i kept quiet.

are teacher's asses? you know. i had a math teacher once and she collected all these "weak" students and had extra classes.

you see. the girl who can dance and act will be the ones that we regret not fighting over whilst the incipit, insignificant ones that cant do anything, no one wants in their department. probably me regreting not saying anything makes me wonder was it because i missed a chance at a great talent or that i didnt do her right? what about the ones that claims loves dance but freezes up for a full ten minutes during auditions?

maybe im making myself feel a little better that the brilliant girl will probably be fine anywhere, in my theatre class or in her dance class. in the meanwhile. i was one of those that no one wanted. seriously. how many people do we know that never gave up on us?

i had an ass of a teacher who went "from you i expect a C lar, and from you pass also can lar" if only i was smarter and replied, i expect better too? i was too busy ducking my head behind the girl he just wanted an E from.

are teachers important because they teach? or because they are willing to teach the weak ones. the ones that you hate because they come to theatre class and go "i have to act?" or the ones that get stage fright?

did someone believe in whatever little talent i had or put in extra hours or spoke up for me? we always complain that our students arent good enough and theyre not living up to our expectations. maybe we should live up to theirs. i mean heck, the good students dont need us. in truth, we're the ones who're desperate for them.

truth has been revealed. before they martry me, the best teachers crave for the best students. in fact no one ever wants the sucky ones.

and i have no conclusion. teachers dont know everything

yours,

jess

bRinG oUt tHe cHaMpaGnE

dear jess

After too many years of eve’s of those so called new years, one wonders what the fuss is really all about. Why on earth are people lookin so drunkardly happy and screaming on the top of their lungs that its going to be another long, dreary endless year? If you haven’t already noticed, im all hoo haa’ed for the new year.

My pain in the a** eve – literally saw me running up and down to the toilet for 3 and a half days with my appetite currently remaining at a lost. Im not too keen on finding it back if it means I loose weight, on the other hand, im not sure who iam without my appetite.

Speaking of, in my arguably most insignificant new years of years im still wondering why ? again? Considering the people suffering in this world, I should be contented that I have basic health and the promise of things to come? So why do I remain not the least bit thrilled?

How many people hate their lives and am I one of them? Why should I call it new when everything is going to remain unfortunately as steadily the same as it was before? I will not remain in the blanket of hidden truths and pretend like the year is suppose to make me happy and I will not lie that I feel the distastefulness of things to come like the blandness of my food.

I am fed up. Of the everything being so frighteningly familiar, or perhaps that im letting it be that way. Everyday I pray for a reason.

yours,
jess

dear jess,

Ive been mooning over this letter for some weeks now. The ending or beginning of something always perplexes people to consider, reconsider, think, re-evaluate, look back and then forward. Perhaps sometimes with little point of the ever throbbing repetition of history, the same mistakes we will make, the same unachieved dreams, and the same wants of success and the blah blah’s of human cycle.

Sometimes, its difficult not to be bleak and dark when in reality our life seems so much like groundhog day. If not yours, then mine, perhaps.

In my quickie of re-evaluations I tend not to ponder on for too long, for the fear of a dip in the dark, ive come to see that in just one year ive had people closer to me than the skin on my bones, now familiar faces in a crowd of strangers. Friendship is a strange and deceiving thing. Ive always been biased to having male friends and ive realized that in my life to date ive had 3 girl pals who’ve betrayed me and my friendship. Perhaps that, in comparison to the one who has remained loyal for the last ten years makes up for the pain.

To be honest, I am empty and therefore re-evaluations and trying to be poignant just because it is the end of the year will be a failure by the end of this letter. Perhaps ive learned to be more patient in the face of accusations that I haven’t been nice enough or that ive used people or neglected many in the last year or maybe I’ve learned not to trust anyone anymore, or perhaps ive just learned to drag my legs in a world where my dreams are getting slightly bleak.

We always call Christmas a pagan festival in replacement. But I reckon God had a plan for that. Perhaps now in my evaluations, I see that no matter how you’ve failed me and how I’ve failed you, how I know the next year will be as filled with pain as joy, when I reach the end; there is hope, and that is the one single word that keeps human beings living and dreaming.

And perhaps the single hope I have for me and you this Christmas? Is that we find hope too. Bless you and as we say in my mother tongue bong natal.

yours this year and the next,

jess

tHe cOnStaNt pOunDinG iN yOUr heAD

.dear jess

The spread of humankind is plagued by verbs that limit us. Fear. Is that a verb? I never paid much attention in English classes. It was. Boring.

Life is a funny thing. When you have to do something that might be important to you suddenly you fear. You fear going to the audition because you don’t want to be rejected, or worse still if you got the part you fear you will really know how much you weren’t made to do the part.


The little voice that plants fear in your head always gives you the easy way out. You have no time. You have no money. You don’t really need it.

We fear making ourselves more interesting, or was it just plain laziness. We are too lazy to discover the deserts of western Australia, is there a desert there? I never paid much attention to geography, and yet I minored it. We aren’t too bothered about aiming for studying somewhere or working on a cruise ship that will take us places, because it’s much easier to be a computer technician here. We are too lazy to rock our world.

Here’s my “favourite.” Regret. Most of us live most of our lives in regret. We think that if we regret enough that we will have punished ourselves enough. We regret that one night but its too late because now we have Aids, we regret that one week, but now its too late because the due date has been long gone, we regret that one second, because now its too late, that she’s dead, gone and she will never know.

In that too often than not more than one moment we always wished we did this and didn’t do that. Went for this and not that, said this and not that.

Funny things we are. Human beings. And yet, more often than not we don’t find ourselves laughing.

Through all the world there goes one long cry from the heart of the artist: Give me leave to do my utmost. -Isak Dinesen

yours,

jess

conGrAtS :)

weDdiNG dAy :)

I mAkE a LoUsY frEN aNd iM noT asHaMeD!

Dear jess,

Someone asked someone (why do most stories began that way?) if the reason I hadn’t met up with that someone was because of a boy?

As I ponder in thought – not for an answer to the question but rather for how I should react. As I did, think; some things crossed my mind, do I seem like the type who would ditch people for a boy?; do people not know me? and of course do I really care enough to react?

Whilst it is the easiest and most reasonable to pick on that reason, the privacy of my quirky, less unfathomable personality must once again be made known much to my discomfort.

I don’t make a good friend.

And admittedly I don’t intend to. As selfish, ignorant and down right silly that sounds, one must be given credit for being honest.

With the best of persons there are, I sometimes just cant be bothered. I love going into my hole and being there by myself. The much noisy and extrovert person I thought I was has a stone in which she hides in for months.

Perhaps there are reasons for this. Sometimes it’s because meeting up with people means the worse of all; being put in a position where I’m somehow obligated to tell them my personal life. Being ‘friends’ and having a past together means I have to tell them my present. Or perhaps that there is nothing much that have changed; and even more so nothing that changed that they can accept as much as they would like to believe they can.

I am strange. no doubt. when im in a gleeful mood i feel that im in love with the whole world and want to have coffee with everyone. hence the bipolar disorder i claim to have

Im probably one of this people who will die a lonely death (laughs to self) or contrary; a crowded one with people all looking for me because i havent met up with them in months.

yours,

jess

Your Quirk Factor: 42%

You're a pretty quirky person, but you're just normal enough to hide it. Congratulations - you've fooled other people into thinking you're just like them!

How Quirky Are You?

i WenT anD goT mE a FisH :)

my first cAtCh :)

SO irresistably adoring.. thanks sis or rather i just stole it off your blog :) 

poSt cOLLoNiAL bULL****

dear jess,

ever since ive been accused of being to casual in my research writings, ive transfered my ‘need to be’ into using my large aesthetic words here, instead. lacking anymore emotional or personal depth and repeating regrets, ive decided to pick on something else instead.

as i was rereading comments from 'oh-so-great' theatre practitioner cum owner of studio cum im white but actually lebanese who once lived in australia, i came over this horrible play he once did. and when interviewed it was interesting, his reply was. to the question 'theatre goers did not enjoy your show, but non theatre goers did.' he loudly 'kutuk' theatre goers and applauded non theatre goers that he manage to 'entertain' them, because that was his aim.

you see, in a country where i-can-win-a-reality-competition-alto-i-cant-sing-dance-or-even-look-good but simply because im a village boy; one strives for the faintest, littlest hope that once again the stupid white men can save us.

but of course, that is post collonialism bull****.

why do white men walk into OUR theatre doors and pretend to understand gamelan and mak yong and wayang kulit whilst in the way they speak and look at you, you know they thing they're better than you?

simply because.

we let them.

my best example is the i-can-win-a-reality-competition-alto-i-cant-sing-dance-or-even-look-good boy.

we let them

we let the talentless win competitions, and the ones with the talent who fail to admit that even they can put up shows that fail, performances that will fall flat, theatre that has gone bad.. to those, we instead suck up and tell them that it was good, so that we get on their good sight. it still feels like we let them rule us. we've let ourselves become the product of post collonial... all together now..... ******

tesco's anyone?

yours

jess

bUttEr pRaWnS aNyOne??

dear jess

I sat there for three hours, squatting and standing and rarely blinking whilst my heart waited in anticipation and pounded like crazy when I caught one.

I was prawning.

They should allow that word in the dictionary, after all fishing for prawns is quite an oxymoron. jessica has got a new hobby (big grin)

As I sat there a few minutes before I discovered my new obsession, yes obsession that leaves you thinking of the next prawning session, I waited on the boys to finish their snooker game.

And just as it were to be me, it occurred that there are either two things wrong with the world. One, is that the world is very much male biased, OR two, is that women, lack hobbies.

Everything non “passive” that doesn’t resign the female gender to watching movies or shopping consist of generally male based hobbies. Fishing, snooker, pool, arcade, golfing etcetera.. of course I said generally. Most of this stuff is done by my male counterparts.

The strangest thing is that never will you see a woman taking a man and say hang on whilst I play three rounds of snooker. A woman just doesn’t do that to her man!

Nope. Not saying that one is better than the other, after all I caught seven prawns on my first prawning session and my experienced male counterpart, two.

Perhaps going to fishing ponds four days in a row and being the minority, or sometimes the only female will tend to induce baffling thoughts on any chick. In the meanwhile, I recommend prawning. The feeling is quite indescribable.

And if you’re gonna ask the men to wait for five rounds, make sure its not just five rounds around the shopping mall.

yours,
jess

iF i SeE yOu aGaiN, i SwEaR iLL kiLL yOU!!

dear jess,

At 1.30 Tuesday afternoon today, I was about to get into my car on the way to teach at school. The care was parked outside my house. As I was picking off leaves of the car, which I had just washed, admiring it, I see by the side of my eyes and hear the sound of the motorbike with two men skinny, young men on the bike. Reflex tell me to get in the car, which I do and out of paranoia, habit and mostly by Gods grace I lock the car door even before starting the engine.

As I start the car I see in my rear the two idiots on the bike coming back my way, I shift the auto gear into D and once again something in my heart and mind told me to get ready to drive off.

One of the men jumps off his bike, and pulls the door of my passenger seat open. And as if I could see this all happening in slow motion, the only thing between me and my perpetrator was the door of the car, I hear the door click- as it remains lock. I horn, and ram my car. In panic im not sure if my car moves but he runs back on his bike, I drive and turn the car, perhaps subconsciously wanting to drive into them and kill them but in my state of panic I didn’t get a number plate or anything.

They leave, im left shaken, now, three hours later all I really want to do is stay indoors for the next twenty years. Its really scary and I figure they wanted to open the door and grab my bag on the passenger seat, or come in and sit next to me with who knows what intentions.

All I can say is that if I see them again I swear ill drive into them. However since this is the by far the scariest thing that has happened to me, drivers, women and men, regardless please be aware of your surroundings and lock your doors BEFORE you even start the car.

Thank God, who clearly protected me, my ever present help in times of trouble. thank God, thank God, thank God, cant say it enough..

Im gonna go hide under the blanket for a while and pretend that my world is a safe safe place.

yours shaken but safe,

jess

coNfOrM, oR LoOsE yOuR sAniTy. .

dear jess,

On some days, like this one, you lie awake in bed at four, you scream the quiet scream till your jaw hurts and when you finally realize that sleep or any peace of mind will be as far to you as the chances of winning a lottery, you wake up and write a letter hoping that solace will find you.

On some days like this one, you feel so tired. So tired of fighting and justifying and saying you know for sure that the decisions you made in life were the right ones, that the man you chose will never leave you, that the job you wasted your life away for will eventually pay back.

I use to not want to have a child because I would fear that eventually I wouldn’t be able to tell her what to do and that one day she or he will make their own decisions, most likely those that I wont want them too.

And sometimes it would be so much easier to pick the easy choice and live up to expectations of everyone around you. Let them tell you what to do. Almost as if life itself was one whole big arranged marriage.

On days like this, you feel like rolling over, so that by doing that the tears will stop rolling, the confusion will end and in reality no one ever wants to be different. The punks punk their hair because they'd like to think they’re individuals, but of course, only with a group who all have the same punk hair. More so the popular girls at school, the not popular ones and all the odd ones.

Everyone thinks they want to be an individual but only if there were a few others like them.. Being an individual isn’t always being special anymore than what the word already is- being alone.

Woe is the woman who will not fall for the man of her parents dreams, who will not let her friends think for her, who will not let the way she was brought up affect the way she chooses her future, who will let herself be.

Woe is that woman, for she will indeed spend many a sleepless nights and share many silent screams.

yours,
jess

sMeLLs LikE sEptemBer, AgaIn

dear jess,

I have a box with a sarong, four pieces to be exact, a bottle of brylcream, a comb, a small radio, a mirror and a little purse. All belonging to my grandmother. Its been only the second or third time ive opened this box in what is now the last two years..

And the reason ive opened this box so few times is because in a lot of ways I always handle tough times by ignoring they happened. Because everytime I smell that bryclream or let my face feel the sarong’s or look at that comb, more than just my external senses are awaken. In fact, each time I see an old lady that remotely resembles her I hurt inside.


I miss taking her to the movies, where she would talk and laugh at the top of her voice or watch her holler at the nephews and neighbours in crude Portuguese, or write numbers on that paper of hers or even stand in the kitchen for hours and help my mum make chips for Chinese new year, the same old lady with more energy than any young person i know, that will dry her pickles in the sun and remember to write everyone's birthday in her little book. There’s a little bit of her in all of us.

Death in the family can be so painful, but missing someone so much and not being able to do anything except smell brylcream can be worse.

The world population on eleventh january two thousand and six is 6,554,023,161. Six billion people, and sometimes all you need is just one.

yours, and always yours,
jess