yOur viLLaGe cALLed mE yeSterDay, thEy wAnt TheiR iDioT baCK..

dear jess,

its true. Eventually our sins catch up with us. sometimes physically, sometimes emotioanally, mentally sometimes all of them. sometimes on days when grace is far from sight, you go into a deep dark place and think that maybe crying will help you, but it doesnt come to you.

sometimes you feel like staying away from church because that is the one place you find you may get stoned instead of love. sometimes people tell you that forgiveness lifts the weight and yet the more times you ask for it the harder the weight seems to get off.

spend my whole teenage life trying to do the right thing and my whole adulthood realising that im only human and all my rights can be instantly changed with a single wrong.

there is a dark, cynical side that still feels she needs saving. there is an angry side that wishes people were more honest and then there is always, always the psychotic side that will always deny that any of this happened.

yours,

jess

ps. the title comes from a hilarious car sign and has been bought for a particular frens birthday. cant remember when he's birthday is, but how can you possibly pass up a sign like that? :)

*nO tiTLe*

Its not that I don’t want to tell her. Its that I don’t think she would be ready to listen to what i have to say.

dear jess

I hate modern day multitasking. As we speak I have papers on my floor, lap and table. Im typing a letter to you, messaging and doing my bible study homework. My mind is always on call.

Ive grown somewhat tired of my letters to you, and I must think you should too. Maybe there isn’t anything new left to tell you, and maybe it really doesn’t matter.

On days when you have to live with the fact that freedom is far from being able to just chuck all the papers in the air and run naked or lie down on the beach you planned and paid a holiday for that you knew would never happen.

At the end of the day, our stories are all the same, self pity with several successes, a dash of shock that someone in the family is different or annoying, someone’s getting married, somebody else is moving away, someone’s in love, and someone is out of love.

Yet, we still get shocked when we are told.

yours,
jess

*siLenCe*

dear jess,

there is no way to dignify death or hardship with a pen and our most poignont words. not from me anyway. i think, as i always have that words, mine anyway, justify little our deepest feelings. someone told me today his aunt has sixty days to live.

what left is there to say?

dumbfounded,
jess

*grOan* *siGh* yAwn*

dear underachiever,

The feeling of nothingness in a non changing world that neither challenges nor changes, neither hurts nor fulfills. I sit in the electric train that is filled with blazing advertisements, seats made of leather and men and women with Gucci and prada’s all getting off at the sky scrappers, offices and high powered places.

I’m not sure if the train is moving and I fail to realize that the yuppies have come, gone and come back again. I also fail to realize that they are sitting in a completely different train from me and that my train has yet to leave the station.

Shut my eyes to avoid the sun from waking me from slumber. Curse the over achievers. Scoff at life. Go back to sleep.

In my dream I have renamed myself to “unmotivated, over educated, under achiever”.

What’s worse than failing at I was passionate about is not having anything to be passionate about.

an awakening is yet to come. Woe is me if it doesn’t.

yours,

unmotivated, over educated, under achiever

tHe "i" iN iRoNy

dear jess

there are a few ironies in life that amuse me greatly, and most of them are often found within religions.

Ironically, no place judges greater, forgets longer, or hates harder than within the four walls or religions, churches, mosques, and the places that preach love, peace and all the wonders in the world.


Its ironic that love by definition is supposedly free of judgment, pre-conceived ideas and discrimination but instead it was meant to be wholly enveloped in grace, benefit of doubts and kindness.

Now. What happens if I fell in love with a scruffy looking drunkard and was going to get married to him in the midst of all my Christian friends? I would then be subjected to scrutiny, madness, a lot of anger and the very thought that I must have not really grown up a Christian because im loving the very man that didn’t get a university education?

Wait did you say university education?

Ironic. Ironic that some churches proudly claim that they will discriminate you if you marry a non-christian. But why is it that they don’t discriminate you if you were business partners with a non-Christian?

I understand that in many a cases we are constantly an irony to ourselves. You see I fear. I fear that one day I will be too flexible in light of avoiding being to legalistic.

Ironic, charles spurgeon was a great speaker with a bad smoking habit. Is he remembered for his sin or his faith?

If and most likely when I do end up in the asylum it would most definitely be because I couldn’t come to peaceful terms of all the ironies that live within my head.

I try to do so many things right that I end up doing everything wrong.

The irony is in me. the irony is in that I will as hard as I try to want to hang around with my churchy friends who seemingly do everything right and seemingly end up marrying the right people that i never will bother to try.

I am the irony. I am the irony who may or may not end up with that “drunkard.” I am – I assure you the irony that you will one day stand there and judge me for seemingly making the wrong choices and picking the wrong man because he was more a charles than a charles spurgeon.

I am that irony and that one day when you “tsk” at me just remember, that of all the in capabilities of life that I ended up with, i have found, and I hope I do find the courage to say that I’m not afraid of loving someone I know no one will ever approve of.

It’s a sad state to be in. What I would give to be normal and go “tsk.”

yours,

jess

WhErE hAvE aLL tHe yOuNg mEn gOnE?

we have rubber trees because rubber trees were brought here from Brazilby the British. Chilli is not indigenous. Chilli was imported from South America 500 years ago. What comes from Malaysia? We buy our rice from Thailand now and our sarongs from Indonesia. Was the novel invented in Malaysia? No. Did we invent film and television? Is painting indigenous to Malaysia? No. Is abstract art an outgrowth of weaving mengkuang? Like f*** it is. So why should anybody expect me to be original? It angers me when after hundreds of years of importing aspects about other people's culture some politician in a 4000 ringgit Italian suit complains about Western values and such-and-such a thing is not from our culture. Our culture is everybody else's culture. We've never had our own. Deal with it and grow up. Would you like some coffee? No? It's Colombian

-Huzir Sulaiman. Notes on Love, Life and Painting.

dear jess

I am halfway; or rather two pages into kee thuan chye’s 1984 Here and Now. Being a “drama student” I never read it till now. It’s a script after the 1969 events outspokenly talking about issues of racism, biasness & political unfairness in our country.

Its daring. Its truthful. Worse of all, its honest.

You have all this Independence Day events when youths try to explain what freedom means to a 3rd generation Malaysian.

Sometimes I think we have stopped fighting or we’ve been fighting for all the wrong reasons. We dare not speak up because it really won’t change anything or we would rather just get into the rat race and make the most of how much cheese we can bite.

We have somehow become like the frog in that sitting pot where the water is getting hot and we’ve adapted to the heat of unequality; if we are born into a different skin colour we have different privillages simply apparently because we aren’t the ‘original’ country men.

What’s worse than that?

Refusing to say anything because standing up for our rights could mean our security, lives, comfort for causing ‘political uprising’

We are the ones causing political uprising?

What’s even worse than that?

We haven’t done anything about it since before the 70’s.

What’s even worse than that ?

We are really comfortable where we are and we’ve accepted that we are being treated unfairly and have adapted to it.

Happy independence day. We should start celebrating early this year.

yours,

jess

pEniS eNvY

dear jess,

its true.

there is so much of pressure living without that organ in between our legs.

you would think im crude. and i would have just made my first point.

ive come a long way from being a female equAL rights person to simply just wondering how i became a female. ive done my fair share of male bashing and this is definitely not one of them.

there is so much pressure just because my organs look different. not only do we have to live up to the expectations of men that we need to look 'presentable' if not hot, we need to pretend that we havent dated too many men before you; when we drive a car at night we need to be extra cautious, we need to be saved, protected and at the same time look after your ego's whilst remaining pretty and pure.

we need to bear your child and at the same time loose the baby fat.

when we travel alone we need to worry about getting raped and robbed or followed and stalked. you just need to worry about where to get the cheapest beer.

when we follow our desires its selfish, when you do, its honourable and inspiring.

when we listen to you talk, we nod and support despite thinking its selfish, when we talk, we get written out as being emotional and irrational.

see, i get it that we are different. i just cant stand it.

all because of an extra flesh..

And no, im not gonna apologise for being "crude."

yours,

jess

nOticE: iN neEd oF neW bAck

dear jess,

what would you like to know?

i drove in to kajang today, and realised that some roads have changed causing my mind confusion, and yet in the many inner parts of it, plenty had yet changed. the roads leading to buildings grey and old, the dodgy boys who would holler at anything with two legs that wasnt male; still do, the dusty misty air, the stationary shop, the shopping complex, the same satay stalls i ate at when i was in first year uni, second year uni, third year uni..

its so easy to scoff at places and people that havent changed at the same time many of us look for familiarity because we can relate as well as condescend.

this is why im a stubborn believer that people dont change. people become grumpier and more vocal of what they think they deserve in life, but rarely do people change much. people stop habits, grow prettier or uglier but rarely do they become better.

so im a pessimistic, or ive failed ot hope in humankind.

or perhaps its just ive heard from boys returning from london (thats a fast changing country) or girls from who knows where quickly stating how things and people havent changed. how the church still have pews and people still do the same thing.

perhaps its true people do change. they so quickly forget how a crappy old place they came from and use to eat satay at meant something at one point. and they quickly scoff that it hasnt changed because in contrast they think they have changed, simply because now they dress better or have body piercings.

i guess you know by now i can't stand hypocritical people who been away and think theyre better (silence the 't' if youve been abroad please) than us. however, if i ever make such statements, its because im better than you. (dont forget, annunciate the better with a silent "t")

in the meanwhile, the only thing that needs a good change around me is my back.

yours,
jess

it looks like the heavens are opening right on the ship. brought back so many sweet memories of me helpin out there ten years ago sigghhh 

sunset on the ship 

..cHasiNg rAinBows..

dear jess,

I find myself forever explaining. In my head it runs like a lifelike wheel trying to explain every actions I do for my past and my present. Fortunately ive come to some conclusions.

Whilst I write this I think of two women I know. One is due for china and the other spain, one for a few months and the other undetermined, and both alone, out of passion the need to learn and much more.

Women I would at any day take my hats off too.

Like I said, conclusions. Ive come to the conclusions, consciously that I will in the near as well as distant future be doing things that most people will not agree with me. the man I marry, if at all will most likely end up on the list of ten men I should last date made up by my mum and maybe even the family.

It’s a strange realization to come to. For the last twenty million years of my life I have always seek the approval of people around me, even if they didn’t know me well, and risking to sound like a rebellious teenager its time to accept these changes in me.

The mothers of the women leaving have mothers that would’ve freaked ( I know one did a little ;)) to hear their dagther go, my mother may or may not think whats wrong with my daughter wanting to date this guy? My friends may think that im stupid and that those decisions are wrong. And ive had that happen to me. unfortunately for me, at many points of my life i listened and let too much.

Here’s the thing world.

I see some of my dreams being phased out and away. I dunno if my heart will reach its desire to see the world. I dunno if the man im gonna marry is going to end up being a good father or a husband. I dunno if ill pick the ‘right one.’

But theres one thing I know. Im going to make the “wrong” decision. And all you can do is watch.

It delights me that we live in an age when women I know can one day tell their children they’ve gone out to see the world, on their own. I just hope hard that one of those women may be me someday.

Have a good life.

yours,
jess

tHe siGht oF a cAnceRous LuMp

dear jess,

the presence of my most intimate soul and reasoning, feeling and drowning of tears will always be written in the hard to swallow lump in my throat. It will neither have the capability to write, express or explain itself in its entirety.

Two worlds crash as it frequently does. And as always the lump of reasoning hides itself, but enough to tell itself to never totally give itself up emotionally.

Sometimes I think I never know what I want and most of the time I let all reasoning go and follow my emotions, forever sworn to do that which my heart deserves, that which comes without judgement or resentment, that which eyes see different from the world, from friends, from family, that which some people call the eyes of love.

Just once when you stop guarding your heart, just once when you stop imagining that you are strong, just then you become vulnerable…

As the lump turns to mock at people in love, people who profess eternal commitment, the lump comes out, get stuck and realizes the man sitting at the corner with a cigarette in his hand, social taboos, spiritual impossibilities and yet he is smiling at her.

He looks at her with those possibly what they call, eyes of love.

She looks back. With tears.

Too much symbolism. Too little time.

crushed,
jess

san pedro festivities, saint peter and his fishing ship 

crowds, ballons, line dancing, and Portuguese songs 

mini zippo's at five ringgit, mines the silver :) i love mini stuff..  

aNd oF coURse..

You Are 60% Cynical

Yes, you are cynical, but more than anything, you're a realist. You see what's screwed up in the world, but you also take time to remember what's right.

How Cynical Are You?

hiLariOuS!

Your Deadly Sins

Pride: 40%

Envy: 20%

Sloth: 20%

Wrath: 20%

Gluttony: 0%

Greed: 0%

Lust: 0%

Chance You'll Go to Hell: 14%

You will become famous - and subsequently killed by a stalker.

How Sinful Are You?

oH deAr..i NeeD hELp

You Are 19 Years Old

13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world.

What Age Do You Act?

eVeryThinG thAt feELs gOOd mUst bE sinFuL

A conservative is a man who believes that nothing should be done for the first time

-Alfred E. Wiggam

dear jess,

Wearing my slippers every week will be my act of silence defiance. I told this to the boy who currently just started working in that oh so famous top five and now matches the pastel colour of his tie to his cuff pins that probably cost hundreds.

It’s a really cute tie pin.

The boys were told to come dressed ‘properly’ no jeans, no slippers. The women? Well for their sakes they were fortunate to not have put leash on me as I walked into the cold place filled with young people in my jeans, flip flops and a baby tee.

Its simply hilarious to me, once again that Asians living at the khatulistiwa who would’ve been dressed in office attire the whole day are required to come to bible study in those same clothes. If I was a male I’d come dressed in the most down to earth thing, perhaps minus the flip flops.

This is my problem with people in my faith. We are wound up so tight that when I was walking into that church I could’ve been walking into a funeral, my tie pin friend taught he was walking into a school.

Just before going, I started to think that studying the bible was starting to look fun, of course me and mr. tie pin couldn’t stop laughing at the high strungness of the whole thing.

So there I was, feeling fortunate that I had a friend next to me who was unlike the rest. My sarcastic brains started to scan the crowd of boys with thick glasses, pants as high up as their neck, and women who looked silent and sweet…

Like I said I was sarcastic.

So. If I ever start a bible study id probably ask people to wear their party clothes and come to celebrate the fact that we believe in a religion that’s suppose to be joyous and it would really be nice to see more ‘uncouth Christians’- those that don’t shun away from fun, slightly non geeky pants and talking loudly because sitting on the pew has hurt their bottoms.

Am I going back this week? Heck yes who else is going to make fun of structures, organisations, and other people's dressing? Of course after one or two weeks who knows what will happen to me. hopefully ill still be wearing my pants at the same level.

And I wont compromise my slippers. Or so I think…

yours,

jess

dAys WheN yoU juSt Go *bLeAH*

The power of accurate observation is called cynicism by those who have not got it.
-George Bernard Shaw


dear jess,

I usually began with stories of coffee cups, or self stupidity, but today I’ve ran out of silliness.

On Sunday I sat in on a conversation of a boy on his first backpacking trip to a nearby country for a mere six days. Yes six days should rarely qualify for all the over-ness that I had to hear over my two weeks of carrying two backpacks.

So there this boy goes talking to this man, who hasn’t been into this country because this man was borrowing (lending?) this boy his 600 dollar backpack. And he tells him, be careful people will just walk away with the bag (this are things you will face when you go to that country..) or his wise questioning on will you leave your bag at “base” or carry it around…

Its six days for goodness sake!

Okay, so perhaps part of my irritation is that I just got myself an 80 dollar backpack for my upcoming two week backpacking trip to two or three countries if I get lucky. Or that neither of them would look me in the eye or hear what I would have to say when I’ve been there. Well somewhat in the next country. Or the irony of using a 600 dollar bag on a ‘backpacking’ trip for SIX days. But still mostly that no one was listening to me.

And people ask me why I don’t tell them about my trip or about myself. This is exactly why. People rarely want to listen.

And whilst I’m deeply in love with my eighty dollar backpack, it needs to be exchanged due to sewing issues. Yes, perhaps because six hundred dollars can pay for half or more of my trip I’m glad to say that I don need air conditioning, hot water, or even fully clean beds to survive in another country.

But once in a while, I do need, yes I need people to look me in the eye and listen or talk to me, like I’m a real human being.

This does help people from sliding into depression, murders, nonchalant –ness and perhaps, you know; talking to themselves in letters.

There. Who said I ran out of silliness.

yours,

jess