De Rickochet

Beijing Story

2007-11-14T11:25:00.000-08:00

I have not blogged for a year. No, its not that I am lazy, but its because I cannot seem to access blogger.com in China... UNTIL I discovered that my Japanese housemates notebook can somehow slip its way through the Chinese filtering system into all the forbidden websites. Even then, I was a little too busy with other matters. When you are too busy with life, you tend to talk less about it. But now that I have time on my hands, I felt that I should continue to blog mainly because this story of mine is a story worth telling. Also because reading other peoples blogs mde my fingers itchy. AND also because I refuse to be put on Sharlene's Abadon Aztec Temples list. So Shar, this temple is no longer just a cultural relic. Kindly remove my name from that list. Please?

Thanks... now on to China.

BEIJING
For the geographically un-educated, Beijing is the capital of China. Judging by the map on my fridge, I would say it is about half the size of the Malaysian Peninsula, but it is still one of the smaller provinces in China. It has a population of almost 15 million people and I doubt that includes foreigners like myself.

TianAnMen Square and its surronding buildings are symbols of China's governance and culture. Despite what foreign media says about its government, political figures here are highly respected by locals. The government has also done a tremendous job in improving its economy and living conditions. You have to see it to believe how rich alot of Chinese people are.

This sight is more and more typical in many areas as Beijing develops further. Flashing neon lights, Starbucks, McDonalds, local and foreign supermarket chains are becoming increasingly omnipresent. In this picture, the traffic is awesome. During rush-hour, I can't help but feel Beijing is one giant carpark. If you KLians or Singaporeans think your jams are bad, Beijing will take traffic-terror to a whole different level.

If you are someone who likes talking to strangers, you will never feel lonely in Beijing. Day, night, dawn, dusk, there are always people around. This is one reason why I feel Beijing is a very safe place- if you commit a crime, there will be alot of people watching. Damned molesters from Malaysia should be brought here.
Of course, there are some downsides to its economic development. Pollution is one of them. People here are struggling to make their yuan that they really have no time nor energy to care for the environment. Because everyone is trying to survive or make it big, I can't blame them for the rubbish and poor quality of air, yet I have to blame them because who else is there to blame? The divide between the wealthy and poor is another major issue. Back in Melbourne, I saw this divide in the form of an hourglass of a graph. To experience it is a whole different thing. One day, I step into a club where the drinks are at least 40rmb and spakin' cars parked outside. The next, I see people on the streets desperately selling trinkets or slices of fruit for only 2 or 3 rmb. I really can't imagine how they can survive in an environment where inflation is going through the roof and rich people are spending money like toilet paper.

This was a shot taking during our school trip to TianAnMen and the Forbidden Palace. For most of these students, this short-term course in China will be a fun-filled and enriching experience that will open their eyes to a completely different part of the world. For some, it will dramatically shift the course of their lives in the future. For me, lets just say that I now preferred to be called 张冠诚 instead of Derrick.

FRIENDS
This story in Beijing is so long an multi-faceted, I did not know where to start. Should I begin from day one when I first stepped into Beijing? Should I begin by talking about Peking Roast Duck? Should I talk about school? As I have learned in Melbourne, a sojourn can only be as meaningful as the people I meet and my experiences with them, and not how well they roast their duck. Therefore, I have decided to start by talking about the characters that I have met, both interesting and repugnant. The picture above is pretty much all of my friends in my Beijing University Short-course in Chinese.
During the first-half of the year, I lived alone in a place where most residents seemed to be retirees. At 23, I really felt a little out of place over there. So for the second-half, I lived with these three other weirdos. The guy on the left-most side is Jacky Cheung 张学友. Very talented. The girl next to him is Kelly, the Brazillian-born chinese who, similar to me, does not really look chinese. Since the first day I met her, it is easy to tell that one of her biggest hobbies is talking. Because her looks are quite far above average and because she has that charm of exoticism, many guys are willing to listen to her blabb... i mean, to her expression of her feelings. Her charm has also got a handful of guys following her from Beijing to SiChuan, which is why we keep a Tai Chi sword in the house to fend away the ones who to follow her home.

The moron in the middle has shared many adventures with me. Yushi and I were acquainted during a trip to Inner Mongolia, and since then we have had many interesting experiences together, experiences that I do not know whether to divulge on this blog. This Japanese guy is really funny. Not funny in a witty or humorous way, nor is he the kind who likes to act cute, but his natural actions and demeanor can make you roll on the floor like your back caught fire. Alot of people adore him because this, but at times I feel that people should respect him more for his depth and intellect. My Japanese has had much improvement because of him. I have learned new words like kusai, onani, chinko, mangko, opae, isyoni neru, atama kitanai and many more useful and practical phrases. respectively, they mean smelly, masturbation, male-privates, female-privates, boobs, let us sleep together, dirty head

The girl on the right is Angela, our Beijing connection. Was not close to her in the first few weeks, but later on I realised that many of her friends call her when they are troubled. The reason is simply because she is a very good listener. So as we slowly started chit-chatting about life and its qualms, I found out that she can be extremely open in conversations, where you can talk about almost anything without limits or closed doors. I find it sad, however, that many of her friends only go to her when they have problems. People should realise that a wise counsellor has her own issues and needs. She is currently crazy over good-looking Indians and people of the Middle-Eastern region.

So, we are the four jolly roomates who met by fate, and decided to live together by choice.
The girl in the white T with pandas sitting next to Jacky Cheung is The Dutch-born chinese-Malaysian Su Huey. At the beginning of the year, when I just moved in to the flat of retirees, I went to her place for a small gathering attended mostly by Dutch people and had her home made Dutch food. When I arrived home after it ended, I realized that I forgot where the hell my flat was because they all looked the same! So I called her and asked whether I could spend the night at her place. Conveniently when I called, she was talking to her boyfriend on Skype. I bet he wanted to kick my ass real bad at that time, plus the fact that he will represent Holland in the Beijing 2008 Olympics for Wushu. I truly did asked the wrong person for a sleepover party.

Aside from that, I have to say that I am really happy to have met her. She is a person who had the initiative to organize alot of gatherings and outings, mainly because she wanted to experience as much as possible within her short 6 months in Beijing. We clicked when we first met, and although I must say I often feel out of place during Dutch gatherings, conversations with her are often pleasant and relieving. She is one person whom I truly wished that she did not leave after the first semester.

The girl in blue is MeiFang from Spain. Didn't get a chance to know her very well, so all I can say is that she is pleasant, smiley and her chinese kicks-ass. The guy in gray, Jonathan is an ABC, A for Australia. He was also born in Malaysia. We were pretty good friends at first, but as time went by, his non-stop blabbering really irritated the hell out of me. Furthermore, there are times when he thinks he is so damned funny by putting down Malaysian culture and or accent in the company of people from other countries. Although I cannot say that I am extremely proud of my country, and that I am having abit of an identity crisis as a Malaysian-Chinese, it is still my home and it should still be well represented in an international community. If you put my country down, you put down my family and everything that I has made me the man I am today.

Why can't all ABCs be like Kelvin? Or Vinh?

The other guy with glasses is Jung-Ho the Korean who grew up in Hong Kong. A happy-go-lucky guy who is nice to bully, but also retaliates well.

This is the Japanese who risked public scorning by coming to China. The one on the left is Saki, the one below her is Maki, and I can't remember the name of the one below. The girl on Jacky Cheungs right is Lee Qi. She is a oftentimes strange one, but strange people are nice to hang out with.

The guy in black is Shoichi, and he is a damned monkey. I really don't know how to describe him. He can be real fun to be with, but sometimes his jokes makes him a pain in the ass. Thanks to him, I really have seen and experienced things that I have never seen and experienced before. Oh well, I always believed that the best people to make friends with aren't covered in flowers and butterflies

Girl on the left is Lisa, of half Hong Kong and half Dutch heritage. Always calls me names in Cantonese and was the first who gave me the label of Ham Sap Lou (Pervert). Can't deny that label. The woman in white is Kim of Austria, everyones best friend. Probably all the foreign students knows who she is. The guy who looks like he is posing for a Colgate ad is Julian. No, he is not Chinese. This French charmer sure knows how to woo the ladies. Dammit Julian, I too would appreciate it if someone helps me with my coat. He is so gentlemanly that sometimes I suspect he was born in the 1800s.

You might be wondering where the hell are my China-Chinese friends? Well, my local friends actually outnumber my foreign friends, but its just that they are not so photo-happy. I will have to hunt them down after I get my new camera. Whether or not I will keep in touch with these guys for the rest of my life, they indeed have brought heaps of fun to life in Beijing. Now, I can visit Japan, Korea, France, Holland and Brazil without paying for accomodation!

2006-12-10T08:31:00.000-08:00

How many good-byes can a man take? How many good byes before a heart permanently breaks? Can someone die from saying too many good-byes? If its possible, then I might be a dying man, for there are too many good-byes and farewells this year.

In one year, I have said good-bye to Jel three times. I have said more than one sorrowful good-byes on Love Perhaps when some of my closest pals got eliminated, and when I got eliminated. The last time I said good-bye was to all the people I left in Melbourne and returned to KL for a long time if not for good. And I came back to KL only to face one more good-bye: Good-bye to my dear brother, Dexter.

He will be taking another step forward in his tertiary education this coming Saturday, to the United States, to Ohio. I feel a great deal of excitement for him, but at the same time, I'd really prefer it if he stayed. My life back here in KL would be much less fun without him around. And less fun it will be after he leaves. Fuck, it feels like leaving Melbourne all over again.

I thought I'd get used to it by now, but it isn't happening. About 5 days before he leaves and that feeling in my chest is already here. That feeling I had 2 weeks before I was about to leave all the Flare people. That feeling where your heart is slowly sinking into your belly. That feeling where when you lie down, your chest feels like its caving in and you get so sufficated with depression, you just wanna sit up and cry it out profusely.

I don't know when I am going to see him again. His course is two years, and the United States granted him a visa for 5 years so that he can get working experience. The ticket costs more than 4000 ringgit, so unlike me, he probably won't be returning that often. God knows when I am going to see him again.

Globalisation is fucked up. Or perhaps I am fucked up. I just can't take this good-bye shit. I could never take this good-bye shit. And globalisation is giving people alot of good-bye shit. Why do I have to be so sensitive to good-byes? Can't my heart be as manly as my looks? (Yes, I happen to think that I look manly)

Driving

2006-12-07T08:13:00.000-08:00

Driving is so fun, I am now wondering why didn't I take my license earlier. I can't legally drive around yet because I've only gotten my "L", but I've been cruisin' around in the Charade like Robert DeNiro in Taxi Driver during the wee hours of the morning to avoid a policeman saying to himself "Now that driver looks like he doesn't know what the hell he is doing". Its really a cure to a big part of my boring life here in KL. Soon I don't have to go "I feel like going to Yum Cha... damned, no transport" anymore. Neither do I have to worry about the mental capacity and clarity of a driver who just downed half a bottle of Chivas who will be responsible for getting me home with my brains in my skull after a Ghetto night out at Zouk. Hell, I could even go to Ipoh just for the chikcen rice when I feel like it! And when pals come visit from out of town or out of country, I can ferry them around while telling them "As you can see, KL drivers are a little Gila, or what people in your country call Bonkers, or what people in Mexico call Loco. So if you ever think about renting a car here, think twice, maybe thrice. Only those born and bred here can take the heat of our streets. Must be our cuurry, I tell you." So Kel, get your ass ready for a bumpy ride!

Another beautiful thing about being able to drive is that it makes the dating game a whole lot easier. Now I can give a chick a slick half-smile with my mischievious eyes and say "What would you say to Char Kuay Teow tonight. Pick you up at 8?" instead of trying my best to put on the coolest possible facade while the words "Take taxi, can?" blurts out from my mouth. The Charade, however, is not a chariot for wooing princesses. A 13-year-old Daihatsu Hatchback that has been worn by my mom during her school-teacher days and then torn by my brother during the years after getting his license, a girl might look at it and go "Maybe we take taxi, can?" There are the two Benzes, but it'll bring endless calls from parents nagging me on the safety of the car, constantly asking me to check whether it is still in its parking spot or whether the Mercedes-Benz logo is still standing proudly on the bonet. There is also the Toyota Prado Cruiser. I tried driving that once. Its like asking Optimus Prime to play marbles. While the hatchback is damned easy to handle, this is damned easy to kill hatchback drivers. Everytime I end a journey with that 4-wheeler I have to check it for scrap-metal from other cars or maybe even bloodstains and brain-matter. Plus, it drinks petrol like Kelvin at a free-flow night at Amber Lounge. Maybe I should just spray-paint the Charade...

I guess a time will come when ferrying people around will get a little sickening, as expressed by the minority of friends in Melbourne who do own a car. And traffic-jams will soon cause headaches and added stress. But for now, I'll just let my mind run wild with ideas of drag-racing, drifting, off-road adventures and the many activities that gives men that love for an assortment of cold-steel and rubber combined together to create that machine called The Car.

The Aston Martin in Casino Royale is one lady I'd love to ride...

A Post On Choreographing

2006-11-22T03:19:00.000-08:00

Damned auditions for the Martell Rise Above dance competition is this weekend and I still haven't choreographed anything solid. All the moves that I come up with seem less than satisfactory, repetitive, sometimes even lame. Now I know the feelings of those artists who claw and tear and crumple their pieces of work a zillion and one times before that "Aahh..." moment comes.

Perhaps I am putting too much stress and fuss over the details, telling myself "This is too lyrical. I can't keep ignoring the beats" or "Can't put this Locking move now. Locking comes later" or "Why am I being so Jazzy? There's not enough street innit!" et cetera. Putting all these parameters just takes the fun away from choreographing. In fact, I have been feeling lately that choreographing just takes the fun out of dancing. Often, I feel like just turning up for the auditions and telling the judges "Ok. I didn't choreograph anything. So I'd like you to pick a song and I will show you what I've got! Just be kind and keep Mr. Nutcracker or any Cygnets out of this." Truth be told, I have actually done that before and it didn't turn out very well, thanks to my still-lingering performance anxiety.

So choreographing reduces the effects of anxiety on my performance. Thats not the only advantage of going prepared with a combination of moves. After watching so many dance performances by professionals and amateurs using styles like popping, locking, breaking, new school hip-hop, jazz, ballet, contemporary, latin, ballroom, I realize that there are so many more aspects involved in putting on a good dance performance.

The use of space is especially important for a solo. You are the only person on stage, and if you just stay on one spot throughout the whole performance, you make general appearance of the stage or dancefloor look so dull and barren. Unfortunately, many hip-hop and funk routines and combinations really does lack the usage of performance-space. Popping, Krumping, Locking, even Breaking does not involve much movement around the area. The only funk styles that does accomplish that are perhaps Boogaloo and Floating/Gliding. That is why despite my love for the style, I feel that hip-hop and funkstyles are just not suitable for stage, whereas ballet and jazz involves so much stage-travelling steps such as pirouettes, and movements such as jetes are so big that they put alot of volume on stage, making it visually pleasing for audiences who are seated at a distance.

However, hip-hop and funkstyles does look better up-close. This is probably because of the intricacy of their moves. A good Hit or Pop and be seen more clearly if you were in a circle than in a theatre. The minor details involved in Tutting and Waving are much more prominent in a club than on a stage. You can even better feel the funk in Locking if you were right infront of the locker than if you were many feet away. The subtle melts in Milking, the power of Krumping, the footwork in C-Walking look so cool on the streets, but just defuses when done on stage. Ballet and Jazz, however, has less effect up-close. This is probably because of the lack of intricate details and because of their large movements. Its kind of like how a rainbow looks pretty from a certain distance, but up-close the colour is just so big that it looses the effect of its prettiness.

Damned. I could go on and on about so many other issues. Things such as trying to impress audiences with your raw skills and techniques as opposed to using tricks or storylines, the climax, peak and anti-climax to your performance in shows or in battles, the control of energy, the display of emotions... Suddenly while I was writing, I realized that some Performing Arts student who majors in dance might come across this and plagarise my ideas. Also, you guys could be getting bored with the technicalities of it all.

The main issue in the beginning was whether I should choreograph or just go there and freestyle. Freestyling is definitely more fun for me. I might even be able to display my emotions better because I don't worry about the coming moves. But choreographing gives me a chance to analyse and manipulate the visual aspects of the performance in ways that freestyling cannot. The problem is choreographing is really stressing me out because of the aspects that I feel are required for putting on a good show. The worst part is that when I am stressed, my inspiration and creative juices are just stifled, making my moves repetitive and unimpressive.

I need to have fun choreographing. I need to find the fun in choreographing again. Stressing out is no good. But how? Where is the fun, especially when you don't have your dancer friends to show what you have come up with? Arrgh....

Step Up/ Photos By My Bed

2006-11-14T08:43:00.000-08:00

I watched StepUp a few days ago Dammit! It made me miss Melbourne more, especially the clubbing scene where everyone breaks into a routine and the gals and guys got into a small battle. A lot of people here would say “Aiya, where got such thing? How come everyone knows the steps?” Oh my friend, they do… they certainly do.

I don’t know when is the next time I’m gonna get to break into a routine while clubbing. I don’t know when is the next time I’m gonna get into a battle in front of hundreds of tipsy audiences. So I don’t know when I’m gonna stop missing you guys. Here, except for a few other amateurs, I’m the only one really bustin’ moves. Sigh… the last gig I did was the one in Amber. The one where Kel went: “Hey, we should stop dancing. They aren’t paying us for this.” That was damned fun. I hope Changi Golf Club will provide the same atmosphere, eh Ness?

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I'm lying on my bed, chatting on the phone with a girl. She seemed nice. Fairly interesting, fairly humorous. Judging by the many questions she was asking, she was probably into me. After I hung up, I wondered when should I see her this week, if I wanna see her at all.

Then I look at the pictures on the shelf next to the edge of my bed. I look at the picture of balloons. I look at the picture of flowers. I look at Mr. Nice. I look at Rafaek and the six-pack bear. I look at the Maltese. I look at the ring. I see my name. I see her name. I stare at the heart in between. How will anyone ever match-up to these memories? Will anyone love me this much? Will I love anyone the same? What was that girl on the phone compared to these photographs? As I ask myself these questions, my eyes well up with small traces of tears. Sometimes I wonder whether putting up these pictures so near my bed was a good idea...

Hardest Day of My Life

2006-11-08T23:36:00.000-08:00

4th of November, 2006, was by far the hardest day of my life. It was the day I left the place, and more importantly, the people whom I grew into a young adult with. I have never cried so much since I was five, or maybe not even when I was one. The sobbing started the day before at about 3 a.m., while I was hand-writing my testimonials to all those people whom I love so much. I broke when I got to Shar’s. As I recollected each of our many magical moments that were accompanied with a realization of the possibility that these moments might never happen again, I felt little parts of my heart and soul just disintegrating into the air. At that moment, death seemed to have a better prospect.

I felt like I had to drag my heart wherever I went the next day. Each step I took was an emotional trudge. I tried hard to keep walking tall, keep my chest out and my head up. But the vacuum within my ribs was just sucking everything towards it, making me a perpetual hunchback. Damned… even that word brings memories. My dear friends planned a surprise farewell for me, and my decoy was dinner with Jel. But we never had dinner. We just had a tear-fest full of why-is-it-so-hards and you-can’t-leaves and looking at old tear jerking photos. When she brought me back to my place, Vinh kicked of the surprise by barging in the door too early with a measly “surprise…”. That was funny even for that moment. The rest popped out later which was really shocking! Thanks all of you… I truly almost thought that I was forgotten, and that you all managed to live on without me. How stupid can I get? And those videos, those bittersweet videos. Bitter because it reminded me of the people who I am gonna miss, sweet because I was reminded that I have been loved by many during my stay. Not many people can say that they have been loved this much when they were overseas. Then there was my surprise belated birthday cake. Thank you Gorgeous for bringing the balloons, stuffing the messages, baking my cake and being the best and prettiest decoy there is. I pray that my testimonials really meant something to each and every one person in that room.

Despite the merry send-off, I only slept for about 30 minutes that night. Somehow, an aching heart aches more when you lie down. So I got up, and started crying again. This time it was profuse, with an unrelenting stream of tears and sobs. Again, death seemed like a better prospect. I might have chosen to slit my wrists if Jel wasn’t there. Even she got a little worried about me. Thanks dear, for the much needed emotional support. Then the time came for the departure.

Shar was already crying in the car on the way to the airport. Crying is infectious upon the sight of a deeply loved friend in tears. Further proof of that was when we were at the departure gates, where we broke down one by one, except the almighty Kelvin who needed to be strong for the rest. I was thankful that he was there and that he held back, otherwise what a mess it would have been. Its ok Joon Win, you were pretty tough yourself. I waited every second before I had to go through those gates. Sucking it back in while doing so took an emotional Hoover dam. After filling my departure card, I took a peak outside. I saw you guys. I saw Joon Wins arms around Jel, Kels arms around the huddle of Am, Ness and Shar. That was the last sight of my dearest friends in Melbourne. If I ever went into acting and needed to cry on camera (not that I’ve never done it before), all I have to do is conjure that very last image.

I read their letters on the plane, except Jels for the fear of flooding the 747. Ness, I can hardly see myself in the picture because I am so well hidden behind Shar. Am, thanks for telling me everything, and I really wanna know what that moment was. Shar, I smiled on the plane knowing that Melbourne is now a brighter place for you to be in. The feeling of knowing that a loved one is happy is truly indescribable.

On the plane I couldn’t really sleep, couldn’t really watch anything because my mind kept floating back to where my heart is. When I looked down upon the wide agricultural landscape of Victoria, I tried to convince myself: “I am happy that I am leaving this farmland”. It worked for 5 seconds. Then at the end of the flight, I saw the bright lights of KL, the lights that did not reflect the dimness within me. What awaits me in this well-lit city that I can no longer see as my true home? What will not await me here that will await me back where I flew from? I was a walking void. A hollow carcass. A dancer without his flame.

I am having a solo dance competition soon. 10 000 ringgit first-prize. I was supposed to begin intensive practice the day after I arrived. But there was no flame. For one day, Derrick was not a dancer. And I even thought of never dancing again. I just wanted to look at my box of memorabilia. I just wanted to look at the production posters. I just wanted to slowly read the letters again. I just wanted to read Jels present. Yes, I also believe that it is better to have loved and lost and not loved at all…

…. But is it really all lost?

All these things had to go on my walls. So I began creating my museum of unforgettable experiences…

I looked up on the wall where all my Flare certs and posters are, I looked at the Crunk’D T-shirt, I looked at all the photographs of my dearest friends. Then a frail, female voice in my head went “Make sure you make this trip worthwhile, coz you are breaking everyone’s heart.” And another guy’s voice went “There is a time to be sad, and a time to move on.” Then I said “Derrick, you dumb fuck,” and Derrick became a dancer again.

This dance is to show what Flarians are made of. This dance is for all the hard rehearsal times that we went through as a team, and the fun performances that we’ve done as a family. This dance is for you guys.

K.L, you ain't seen nothing like this!

Must revert to my old self.

2006-09-11T00:30:00.000-07:00

"Our personalities are heavily influenced by the enviroment that we live and activate in." I can't say that this statement applies to everyone. Some people seem to have a stronger sense of self, with their traits and characteristics held constant despite the drastic changes in their living environment. But it sure as hell applies to me. After the 5th episode of being in the reality show of courtship, it has finally dawned upon me that when I flew for home from Melbourne, I forgot to pack many of my traits and characteristics that made me so abled and competent back there.

When I bump into someone, I'd use to ask "How's life?", and a decent conversation would ensue. Now, I'd just say "Hi" and then have a hard time of thinking about what to say. Despite it being such a simple habit that made me fairly likable and fairly popular in the University of Melbourne, I left that and many other simple social skills behind in my apartment on Flinders Street. Skills that gave me the pleasure of greeting every 10th person that walks by me in the city because they happen to be an aquantance. Skills that enabled me to get on the guestlist of any damned asian club. Skills that gave me the success of running my very own Mambo night. All these.... just don't seem to be with me anymore.

5 weekends, already 5 weekends on the show, and I haven't even managed to hold a decent conversation with any of the girls that lasted at least 30 minutes. I don't know why the hell I am still not eliminated. The other guys seem to have their words flowing like champagne by just being themselves while I am still having trouble with just being Derrick. Before something is released from my mouth, I'll think it ten times over. "Hmm... what will she think if I said that? Will she like me more? Like me less? Is that lame? Will she feel insulted?" Even out of the show, questions like "What kind of image will I project if I said that? Will I look cool? Will that make the persons day any better? Am I smilling right?", before I say even the simplest of things.

And those are just the basics. What about my sense of humour? It seems to have gone completely down the drain!!! I am not a fucking funny person anymore! I could have been a comedian back there. Now? Even my dad is funnier than me!!! I used to not give a shit whether people laughed or not. Some were lame, but many actually made people crack up. God damned I miss the feeling of making all of my friends laugh. Its just so hard for it to happen when I am over here. Over here, I seem to find myself being in the postion of a laugher more than a joker. My mind just doesn't seem to be as fluid as it used to. I could just put one and one together and get a crack out of people. But currently, I don't know how to put one and one together anymore.

After writting the third paragraph, I realize that one of the main problems is that the internal dialogue within my head is too long. Heck, its not an internal dialogue... its a freakin' internal debate! Worse than a Republican and a Democrat having coffee! I think too much, analyze too much, which cancels out all the sponteneous juices from flowing. And why do I think so much? Probably because I have too big a longing for social approval. Need to be liked too much. Typical Leo trait. Yes, blame it on my star sign. I gotta learn how to be a bad guy and appreciate it. Appreciate that always trying to be Mr. Popular is hazardous for health. I also have to stop reading books on "How to make people like you" when my own personality will suffice.

This is somewhat similar to an injury. An injury to the personality. The ligaments of my "self" is torn. It needs to be bandaged, then it needs recovering and rehabilitation. But there will be no therapist for me. So I'm gonna take one baby step at the time, starting with thinking less.

Will Swinging get you Winning?

2006-08-29T10:42:00.001-07:00

Kel and Joon, if you are reading this post, you guys have contributed much to my part in the last episode. The girls thought I swing both ways. Yes, they thought I swing both ways. So who in Melbourne thinks I swing both ways? Joon, we really have to straighten things out when I get back there. Promise me never to act gay again for entertainment purposes.

At least over here in KL, I have already made a national statement on TV: "But rest assured, I only swing both ways." I always wanted to give a Theodore Roosevelt speech on the media. Not exactly what I had in mind. That felt more like Clinton.

My sexuality aside, the last episode has been pretty stressful. More bitter truths dawned upon me as I was questioned about my personal facts being a hinderance to winning over the hearts of the girls. Things about myself that I can't change within 5 days, let alone the things I can't change at all. I can come up with tricks to impress the girls every week, but in the end, it is ones personality that will outshine all the other trivial deeds. So the question is.... will my personality pull me through? Perhaps its time to show the many different sides of Derrick...

Here is a photo treat for all the curious friends...

Photoshoot for our print ad. Top to bottom L to R, Paintball man Allen, Lawyer Tho Wei, Taiwanese Boyband Lookalike Melvin, Uncle Teoh, Comedian Jiggee Jon, and Playgirl Poser Derrick.

Getting ready for our grand entrance into Holiday Villa, where the gladiators will crush one another.

Personal photoshoot for print ad. I never new I looked so good doing the Boogaloo.

My pal Stephanie and the lovely host Jason.... i mean, my pal Jason and the lovely host Stephanie.

Pics of the other three gals next time, when family members stop hogging the camera.

Ode to Flare

2006-08-28T10:46:00.000-07:00

Gawd I miss Flare. Everytime I browse through Shar's blog, Jel's blog, Am's blog, Ning's, Joon's and Ness's, I see photographs that I want to be in, and stories that I myself want to tell. The worse part is that I am not there to grow along with you guys, as dancers, as people, as we had for the past two and the half years. Over here, I have yet to find a bunch of people who are as dedicated as you guys. I still don't know anyone who would train and rehearse from 9am to 5 pm on their precious weekends, anyone who would let me experiment new moves and choreography on them, anyone who'd dance at a club and then suddenly break into a routine for our own pleausre, and anyone who'd perform what they were paid to perform at a party gig and then give another free performance just for kicks.

Over there, it felt like we performed as a team and live as a family. Over here, I feel as if though I am constantly doing a solo. And as much as I like to do solos, a solo without a team to cheer me on is just different.

When I think about it, I was truly born again in the Frank Tate Dance Studio. I became someone that I have always wanted to be, but never knew. And from there I grew: from Me Against the Music to Crunk'd, from Hard to Get to Pon De Replay, from Popping to Street Jazz to Milking. From talented to trained (although not trained enough). Without Flare, the dancer within me might have gone through a miscarriage. Jane Khoo, miss founder, you may have been a tad irritating at times, and we may bitched about you behind your back, but you deserve a huge thanks from us for starting this whole ensemble. Without it, we might have smoked pot or taken valium to get high. But now, we get high through the drug of dance.

However, as much as I love my home, our birthplace can only allow us to spread out wings that far. We need to go elsewhere for a greater span, and boy is it tough to fly further. I often forget that I am not as popular here as I was back there. Apparently I packed a suitcase of pride when I came back here, which made me forget that I need to start from scratch and build my reputation from the bottom onwards. I realize that I have to go through the whole free-gig self-marketing process that we went through a year ago.

As slow as it takes, I will get to the top someday in the near future. And whether I choreograph for Too Phat or Jolin Tsai or Chris Brown, I will always remember where it all started... Flare Dance Ensemble.

Learning in Reality TV

2006-08-20T21:20:00.000-07:00

The past two weekends were nuts!!! It felt like being in a different reality. A reality seperate from that of our daily lives, a reality where we have different goals, a reality where "God" was constantly recording us on camera! Yeap, that's what Reality TV feels like. A whole new world, fantastical and magical, but it definitely ain't no magic carpet ride.

I'm not supposed to say too much coz it'll spoil all the suspense for viewers. But I'll say enough to keep my homies updated. If you wanna know more, watch the show!

The 15 eligible bachelors were all great people (myself included, hehe). We all had our own distinct personalities, styles and talents. There was a chef who specialized in desserts, a smooth-talking salesman, two comedians (unfortunately I'm not one of them), a sharp-looking lawyer, a Chindian student who was probably the best looking among us all, another student who taught music as a side-income, an aggressive and tactical paintballer, a guy who looked better than many Taiwanese boyband members, a financial consultant who was both smooth and sincere, an owner of an IT company who had a highly strategic mind, the most senior and salsa lovin' uncle, someone who looked like he just popped out from Young and Dangerous 4, and of course, me.

I should also mention our host, our eye-candy when the other girls weren't around, and our morale booster, Stephanie Chai (www.stephaniechai.com. Steph if you ever read this, you should be paying me for advertising). Suprisingly, she turned out to be Sharlenes Sarawakian childhood friend. What a small Malaysia. As I got to know these people better, I knew that it was gonna be one tough game to play.

I shouldn't say too much about the target because the many surprises and twists that are associated with her (no, the surprise is not that she is a man. Definitely a highly attractive and elegant womanly woman). But all I can say is that I wasn't very likable on the first episode. What I tried to do was something that I learned from a book that I read, which was to lower a girls ego especially when she already had high status. I think I went overboard because I was told that my words were really sharp. Lisa, if you are reading this, I am sure that you're laughing your ass off. Obviously I had to change my game.

On the second episode, I found out that by just being myself, I realized I had more potential than I initially expected. I could dance, I knew massage in more depth than just back rubbing, I could write simple poems, and fortunately or unfortunately, I am more sensitive and soft at heart than I'd like to admit myself to be. That was one of the things I have discovered by being in this show. But now that I am aware of it, I could use it to my advantage. However, competing with others who had such large and distinct personalities made just being myself insufficient. Apart from that, I was the second youngest person among all of them. So I figured that I had to be myself, but amplify it by 6 times.

No doubt I also learned several shortcomings within me. My conversational skills seemed to have deteriorated, or maybe it was just lousy since the beginning. Somehow I feel that it's caused by my preoccupation to say something original and witty instead of just saying something from the heart. Another thing I found out is that I can't capture peoples sense of humour and use it to make people laugh. The jokes I make is only appreciated by you peeps in Melbourne (most of the time, i hope) and a handful of guys and sometimes girls in the show. I wonder how the hell am I supposed to learn this skill.

I am gonna learn alot more about myself as the shooting goes on. But til the next episode, keep learnin!!!

Love, Perhaps?

2006-08-03T15:48:00.000-07:00

It's 6.45 am and I can't sleep. I've got a photo-shoot in 2 hours and 15 minutes. I hope I don't look like a zombie in the pictures. What's this photo-shoot for? It's for a publicity campaign being run to promote a local reality TV show called Love Perhaps?. Yes, I'm gonna be in a reality TV show! Hahahaha... Un-freakin-believable!

About two weeks ago my mom stuck a sheet of newspaper in front of my face saying "Boy, you should get yourself recognized!" On the paper it said "In search of 15 very elligable bachelors to participate in reality show Love Perhaps?. $50 000 in prizes to be won!" (just go to www.ntv7.com.my/cornettoloveperhaps) Hmm... There's money, there's probably gonna be a hot woman, maybe some glamour, a chance to pimp myself since I am gonna start a dance company, and most of all, something interesting to do on the weekends! With those prospects in mind, I went to Sri Pentas at Bandar Utama for the audition.

I went there, waited for about an hour, had Cornetto ice-cream, then got interviewed on a stage, with judges sitting in the front like a toned-down version of Idol without the singing. They asked a hell lot of questions that I'd never expected from Malaysian judges! From my inquiries into my personality to intrusions into my bedroom, no corner was left uncovered. But 3 days later, I was called to be informed that I got in. Malaysian TV, here I come!

We had a briefing, which included them telling us that we should talk extensively about the show. This isn't very extensive, is it? Anyway, the show was as what I expected it to be. It's like the Bachelorette- 15 cavemen pit against one another to bring one glorious prize home: an object worth about 50 000 ringgit. Oh yeah, and the girl too. I met the rest of the participants, and I tell you there were some good-looking guys there. If they weren't that good-looking, at least seemed like smooth-criminals! But remember Derrick, seduction is a game of psychology, not aesthetics.

The producers also mentioned something about Footsal, Rock-Climbing, Go-Karting and Cooking challenges. I've never played footsal, I have weak lats and biceps, and I have always been a wee bit to heavy for miniature-automobiles. So, I guess I have to bank on the cooking challenge. Why can't they have a freestyle battle? Why serve food instead of "serve" rivals?

When I found out about the photo-shoot, I realized that I have some serious shoppin' to do! My precious clothes and the style that expresses my individuality has all been left behind in Melbourne! (Joon Win, my dear gay roomate, please send my clothes ASAP!!!) Thank Ti Kong that it's my birthday week, and thank Laughing Buddha that its the great Malaysian sale, so I had a good reason to use The Platinum Card. Out I went to Mid-Valley and 1 Utama with my mom, into Zara, G2000, Guess?, Armani Exhange, Hush-Puppies, Nike, MetroJaya... damned, I've never been so branded in my life. The producers really should re-imburse me for all this.

Now, off to my photo-shoot...

Loneliness

2006-07-24T11:31:00.000-07:00

Lonliness. This was the main reason why I never wanted to leave Melbourne. I am almost friend-less. Most of my hommies are elsewhere, save one or two who are also busy with their lives, and my other close friends are all over there. My social circle needs to be built from scratch again. All the initial superficiality before finding that person whom will click with me is so tedious.

Sometimes I wonder, is it right to feel this way in a family of six? Where the house is filled with noise most of the time? Where so much love and care fills the air and floats out of the windows? It's like watching colourful helium balloons float towards the heavens while asking myself "Why is the sky so empty?"

I guess it isn't wrong. Humans are, afterall, social creatures who probably can't settle socializing with the same five people day in and day out. I also need peers who can communicate with me on an equal level, challenge my ideals and at the same time understand my feelings. Otherwise the contents of my mind might just turn into intellectual mush. All that was in Melbourne, but all that just doesn't seem to be here.

Maybe expecting to find what I found in Melbourne over here was an overly high expectation. I was a leader over there, or as Neil Strauss would call it, an alpha-male. Kel would talk to me about his uni to work transition. Joon would ask for advice and girls. Jel would blab about how cute Pav is and how important I was to her at that point in time. Am would try to eat more than me and say "Shush!" or "Bloody hell!" when we call her a pig. Lisa would just sit there as verbal target practice. Shar would be a talking irony with her cartoons, hamsters, love life and ambitions. Cindy would be there justifying all the actions of other people that have somehow peeved me off. Conversations with Hendry about money, relationships and life would be endless. All this and more... just cannot seem to be found here.

To put it bluntly, I feel like a nobody over here. A nobody who has nobody. I have met people, but people whom are on different wavelengths or people whom only talk on business terms. I have called people, but people who never seem to call back as I wait for my phone to ring. Maybe it takes time. Maybe it takes more effort. Maybe it takes more resillience against the sickening superficialities of people whom are just trying to seem nice and entertaining. But before the time passes, before I get to put in more effort, before I meet more initially-superficial friends, I sit here and enshroud myself in memories of all the goodtimes I had back in Melbourne, appreciating everyone back there even more, let the tears drop on my keyboard, and forget how hard it is to make good friends.

2006-07-16T08:51:00.000-07:00

This book will add much spice to my life. I'll never be bored again! I bought one for Hendry's birthday and was supposed to borrow it from him to read it. But I couldn't wait. To many KL girls were slipping past me like half-curioused snakes. JoonWin, please finish this book so that we can go "sarging" one day.

Spreadin' tha Love

2006-07-14T12:23:00.000-07:00

This holidays, we have done much work in spreadin' tha love of hip-hop...

Government funded workshop in Singapore. I'll be damned. If you asked the Malaysian government to fund such a thing, they'll think its funding booty-shaking lessons. It's time we'd be more open minded, yeah? Randy's in black behind me. Lovynn is the girl in white to his right. She's probably the dopest dancer on that island. The girl in the black shirt and pink words was hot. Should have gotten her damned number, but I had obligations at that time. Apparently the cats on the left just served some Malaysian crews in a competition held in KL. Don't worry, I am here to save us!

Another Singaporean Government funded workshop, this time for beginners. This one was particularly interesting because there were a number of old folks there, which made Randy delve into some history of Clownin' and Krumpin'. Suprisingly, they didn't fall asleep. They didn't absorb the dance styles very well, but they became more aware of the deep history that hip-hop has aside from what pop culture portrays it to be.

This was the first workshop in Malaysia which was held in, believe it or not, the Federal Academy of Ballet. Some talented and passionate dancers here, just no avenue to expand their skills and style. One whole crew that consisted of 5 fellas and one cutie came all the way from JB just for this. Now who can deny that there is a market here?

Second workshop at the Federal Academy of Ballet. More kids and beginners this time round, but Randy's choreo was still merciless. Maybe he should understand that unlike African Americans or Puerto Ricans, groovin' just ain't in our blood.

Ning, if you are reading this, it should be useful for you. Here it shows Malaysian kids trying out a style called Ragga (not Raggae), which is used for a style of music with the same name. It's better known in pop culture as DanceHall which I think was popularized by Sean Paul. Rando incorporates this style very well in his choreography.

After all this time teaching people with Randy, I find that his skills and style is really greater than his resume. Many times he said to me he could be at the top back in the states and that the reason why he isn't is because he was tired of the politics. On top of that, he preached that if he got to the top, he would fall really quickly and hard like many choreographers today.

Half of me always thought that his claims were just excuses for not being good enough. That was until I started comparing his style to the hottest choreographers today. Then I realized that he indeed was a master of his art. I saw clips of Marty Kudelka freestyling which made me go "Huh?". But when Randy does his thing for 5 seconds in his classes, I can always hear numerous gasps from the crowd of students. Now I find that I am being taught by one of those hermit kung-fu masters who hide in the mountains, away from all the glamour and hype.

That's right. Hype. You can ride on it, but don't believe in it. Just do your own thang.

Feels So Surreal

2006-07-10T12:21:00.000-07:00

I am a week and a half late for my latest blog. But I've got a reasonbly good reason for my delay. Since Randy came to Malaysia, I have been pretty damned busy. I've been running around "assisting" him in workshops trying to get myself popular, going on TV and radio interviews as his "sidekick", attending dinner functions held by studios, and last but not least, bringing him shopping. Another reason why I couldn't blog earlier was because I wanted to post pictures, but couldn't find the damned USD cable for the camera.

Lame excuses aside, sometimes this whole experience feels really surreal. This cat, who has gone on tour with the likes of Destiny's Child, Sean Paul, Usher and has choreographed for Coco Lee, J. Simpson and a couple more artists, is now living in a humble middle-class home at Jalan 21/9 Petaling Jaya. Even funnier is that he had meals with my family, played with my dog, and tried to help my sisters with their homework (didn't do a very good job though). I arrived home today with my brother and we forgot to bring the keys for the main gate. So we shouted "Hello?!", and Randy replied from inside "Yo man, how you want me to let you in?!" I thought to myself: This is some weird shit. Never in my life of 20 years had I imagined that an African-American man would open the gates of my home for me.

I guess many of us forget that celebrities, people whom we admire or people who always appear in magazines and TV live on the same planet as us. We never think of the possibility that some day we might be associated with these people. Sometimes we fail to realize that we drink the same water, eat the same foods, breathe the same air, do the same things in toilets, get into similar relationships and even make the same kind of mistakes.

But a more important lesson that I've learned from this experience is that if we ever do achieve such status, we should remember that we are living in the same world as everyone else. No one is inferior to us, we shouldn't expect special treatment from anyone and we shouldn't fuss over living in humble conditions. I told Randy that he could move out to a hotel whenever he wants if he isn't comfortable here and that we'd understand. But after almost a week, he seems as happy as a squirrel in its tree. If he is feigning his comfort and happiness, he has to be a pretty damned good actor to fake it for week!

What's funny is that I actually know some friends who might complain over the living conditions of my home if they'd ever live here. Although it's a nice clean home, I know many people who'd complain about the noise my siblings make in the morning, the unpleasant smell of my dog, the heat and stuffiness of my room, the mess of my table, and the lack of mobility caused by my inability to drive. But Randy didn't even give a small grunt over these matters, except occasionally about the heat.

It seems that after housing a man who has been up there with celebrities, I have learned to be happy with the simple things down here and always keep my humility.

No Ordinary Path

2006-07-03T07:52:00.000-07:00

(I am suprised people read my blog so quickly despite the long gaps that I have in between my posts! Thanks guys. It puts all the meaning into creating a blog, which is to create more significance in a persons life by knowing that other people care about what's going on. By the way, I am one day late because I was in Penang.)

On Saturday I had dinner with my extended family members at a kick-ass Chinese restaurant which served Phat food with even Fatter content. While chatting with one of my cousins, the topic about eating shit loads since I arrived in Malaysia came up. When I told her I probably gained weight since I got back, she replied "It's ok. Let go when you come back coz when you return to Australia, you'll be starvin'."

I have received this comment from numerous people more times than I have fingers and toes. It is becoming a cliche. The worst part is that whenever someone mentions that, I feel a sense of comfort. I will feel that it's ok to eat one tonne of crabs when I am here because I won't get it in Melbourne, especially when other people say the same thing. But then it struck me: Derrick, you are not like other people. You have not chosen to take the path of a lawyer (sorry am) or an accountant (sorry kel) where having a fat-ass will not affect your performance at work. You have chosen to dance and in this field of work your body has to be in tip-top condition. If you have a crappy physique, your chances of succeeding are gonna be even crappier. So from now on, I shall remember that any excuses for overeating does not apply to me.

An average NBA player trains for about 6 hours a day. I should be doing the same thing. I am no longer an ameteur. It's my job to stay fit. Nuff said... its time to do my chin-ups....

Nothing Else Matters

2006-06-28T09:58:00.000-07:00

It's over. I ended it. We ended it. Just like the other things that I have chosen to end. Now, it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing else matters anymore. Only one thing matters. After all that I have sacrificed, it must happen.

The sacrifices are already taking quite an emotional toll. I will miss many people. I will miss the events that have given me all the laughter and joy in my life. I will suffer from a loneliness that I hope to be temporary. I have to build up a circle of friends from scratch again. I will miss the initmate moments I have shared with her. But its all worth it. Nothing feels better than knowing what you want in life. And nothing beats the thrill of chasing it.

This blog will now be dedicated to only one purpose: to track my progress towards achieving that goal. Every Wednesday and Sunday, it shall be updated regarding how I have progressed, or maybe even regressed. I hope people are reading this coz it puts the pressure on. Pressure to succeed in the eyes of people. But more importantly, there is the pressure of looking back at my posts to see that I have stayed on the wagon.

And the journey begins...

When They're Gone

2006-01-17T05:44:00.000-08:00

Joon Win left Melbourne for home today. I really wanted to see him off, but I was at work. The night before, I said a light-hearted and funny good-bye to him. But the light-heartedness was actually just a facade. Beneath all those dumb-ass gay jokes, there was some sadness within me. That was when I realised how dear this little friend of mine actually is to me. After spending so much time together searching for an apartment, playing Risk, hanging out, talking about morals, religion and hot ladies, his absence seems to make life less fun an exciting.

These are the times when I realize how much someone means to my existence, which strengthens the cliched but truthful statement "You never appreciate what you've got til you loose it". After today, there is just no denying it- I never appreciate how important my friends or family is to my life til I loose them. Joon Win is just the latest of such an occurance. Before that, there were others like Cindy, Kel, Shar, Am, Jel. Oh man, when Jel left, that was some tough shit I went through. I literally was at the brink of tears for the first two weeks. But Jel, if you are reading this, you know that I know how important you are to me.

However, as for a couple of other friends, I believe that I can show more appreciation than what I am showing now. The thing is, I think that my true appreciation for friends can be shown in their times of needs instead of giving them pleasant gifts, hugging them everytime I see them, not hurting their feelings and other such activities that I deem as a superficial expression of friendship. I know of many who are huggie and lovie, but in times of need, they just don't seem to be there for you or they just aren't competent enough to help you. The sad thing is, a lot of people today only seem to have eyes for the latter expression of friendship. Very few see a friend in someone who is critical and brutally honest. Because of this, I guess I should conform a little and drop people a card or two to show my appreciation. But I will retain what I think is a true expression of friendship: the willingness to pull a friend up when he or she is down, whether he or she likes it or not.

Dear Jel

2005-12-18T17:10:00.000-08:00

It has been a while since I last posted. There have been many events since my last entry, and because I was too caught up in them, I didn't have the time nor energy to regurgitate everything. Or perhaps its more because of the pain of going through the hard times again. Either way, I owe my dear friends an update of the rides and cruises that I have taken. I owe my friends that, and I owe no one more than my dear Jel for this update after my last "attack" on her.

I shall not go into the details of how our relationship changed, as I believe many of it should remain private. That's right, it's for us to know and you to wonder about. But the underlying magnet that brought us together is this: Jel and I were never meant to be just friends. Either we remain a few thousand miles away from each other so at least the Pacific Ocean is between us, or we cause a chemical combustion of sparks and fireworks. We've tried being just friends, but it just mutated into a relationship that is a cross-breed between romance and friendship. Perhaps it was my fault for constantly going back to her. Or it could be her fault for not wanting to commit. Better still, we could blame it on her ex. But what matters is that we made a decision not to live in emotional limbo. I decided to walk the extra mile from Drummond Street to Bouverie Close at 2 a.m for her despite all my doubts, and she decided to look at the possibilities of us being together instead of looking at my flaws.

Now, it has been 4, almost 5 months since we got together. Above all else, these months have been a learning process for me. It may sound funny to equate love with learning, but learning is a big part of love. It isn't just about passion, it's more about discovery. It is a discovery of the opposite sex, a discovery of your loved one, and most importantly, a discovery of one-self. Had I not been willing to learn about myself and Jel, I don't think the relationship would have lasted two months.

Self-discovery might sound inspiring for many, but it's not so inspiring when it comes to discovering the harsh truths about yourself. I learned that I was calculative, self-inadequate and highly sensitive to certain things. And I am learning more and more as we progress deeper into
each other's hearts. Passion makes love happen. Self-discovery, courage, forgiveness, discipline and humility makes love last.

Currently, we are an ocean away from each other. It's tough waiting for someone who has been in my arms for the past few months to return to my embrace. But I am happy to finally find someone who is worth waiting for.

Thoughts of a Decent Guy who faced Rejection

2005-06-22T08:25:00.000-07:00

Rejection. Most fear it. Those who learn to deal with it often become champions. Those who don't will always cower from the hurdle of being judged that stands between them and success. I just got shot by it. By someone who was an angel in my eyes. I dedicated a large part of myself to making her happy, and everytime I see the sunshine in her smile, I think I am halfway there. But she prefers to spend more time with her old flame than me. Says she's more comfortable with him... Says she has no obligation towards me. Those true but painful words simply spelled the R-word. I have yet to pray to that angel for the reasons of her rejection.

My dilemma here lies within the character of her old flame and her incessant pampering towards him. Broke her heart twice or maybe more. For the two times that I know of, once was by cheating, the other I doubt I will ever find out. But now, aside from the intimacy, they are still more or less like a couple. They have dinner together regularly, go for drinks, cooks for him and do all activities that couples do. Me? I wouldn't want to commend on my own character because it'll probably be inaccurate, but what is worth mentioning is that I never two-time girls. Even she mentioned that I am a decent guy. Yet, the most I get from her are what seems to be the scraps of her time and minimal effort to lighten up my days. Perhaps I expect too much, and probably all her expressions of interest and commitment towards me are just illusions.

Here is the point that I am trying to drive home. One of the well known philosophies of achieving success is that when we get rejected, we should learn why it happened, rectify our errors, and then try again. The logic of this situation is that she prefers spending time with her ex, who is a bit of a player, and also, in ways that I don't know, a heartbreaker, as opposed to me, a goodie boy who believes that all girls should be treated with respect and never be tampered with. My error would therefore lie in being a nice and decent person, and in order to achieve success in this situation, I should endeavour to be a more of a player.

A friend said "No, don't change because of her". Another friend said "Go ahead, at least you'll know what it's like!" Now I am in a state of confusion. The only conclusion that I can come to is that the worst part of rejection, especially when it comes to romance, is that it makes us question our character, our competencies, our values, our morals, and everything that makes up our existence in society. Why was I rejected? What is wrong with me? Must I change myself to achieve success? These are the hard questions that I now face. If I ever become a man with little morals, gives little consideration for the feelings of women, and the only concern in my life is the pleasure I get out of it, people who have read this post will understand why.

She told me "Sometimes, you can be a bit aggresive and demanding".
Sorry, I was just trying to defend the meaning of my existence.

To Love Without Wanting Love

2004-11-12T04:06:00.000-08:00

It's sad that when most of us love someone, we expect to be loved in return. So many friends of mine have told me of how their hearts were broken when the one they loved fell in love with someone else. So many relationships do not work out because one party is not showing enough love to the other. Conflicts are caused among friends when someone is not showing sufficient appreciation to someone else. Parents get bitterly upset when their children show no love to them after all they have done. I become resentful when I see no love expressed by someone whom I feel for and have given a fair bit to.

When I went into that resentful state, I had to ask myself why. Why should I expect anything back when I love someone? Why do most people love with an expectation to be loved back? With this expectation, love can mutate into sadness and hatred. With this expectation, love can cause much undesired pain. No wonder so many philosophers and religions teach us the concept of altruistic love, which the supposed path towards universal and unconditional love. I thought it would be easy to go around loving everyone like hippies. But now when I face it myself, I realise how self-consuming love can be.

From the books that I have read that attempted to tackle this slippery topic, it seems that people have the capacity to love because they were loved by someone at some point in their lives. Love, empathy, compassion mostly comes from our parents or guardians who teach us these abilities by practicing them upon us. In this sense, we love because we were loved. In most of our lives, we seem to receive love before giving it. If this is true, then this would explain why a large number of people, myself included, hold contempt towards those who are "not returning the love". Most psychopaths seem to be what they are because of their inability to love, care and empathize because they themselves have never been shown these feelings. This seems to work the other way round- many who love someone without receiving a return seem to become psycho for at least a short period of time. My sympathy goes towards those who have gone completely psycho because of this.

However, that theory does not explain how some people succeed in loving altruistically. I watched Raising Helen recently. It showed how painful it can be for parents to act in ways that can make their children hate them so much when their actions are only for the good of their kids. Altruistic love can range from that to people who risk their lives on a daily basis just to bring food and medical supplies to victims in war-torn countries.

How these people can do this on a constant basis eludes me. In my attempt to practice altruistic love, I have caused much pain to myself. I have had to suffer in silence so often to suppress what I want for myself when I love someone. Does this take practice? Or is there a sudden realisation that might come to me and tell me that "It's all worth it!" ? I read a quote in a book recently that says something like "There is no duty more noble than the duty of helping another achieve success". Might this be what love without wanting love is all about?

Emotional mommy, emotional son

2004-11-04T21:07:00.000-08:00

In this year spent away from my family, in another mile of self-discovery, I have learned to better understand my mom who is a few thousand miles away from me, and how much I am like her.

Ever since attending Trinity College, I have tried to portray myself as a person who is all rational and philosophical, always looking at things from a third-person perspective and my thoughts unhampered by emotions. When I plan things, I never consider the subjective and emotional aspects of things, always trying to adopt the "Just Do It, No Sweat" attitude. Often, my plans are foiled because in truth, the execution of my plans involves lots of sweat, and lots of emotional issues to handle. Issues such as motivational problems, apathy, short-term gratifications and distractions of passion.

Even looking back at the times when I advise people with their problems, I seem to myself like a management consultant, telling people "what" to do without considering the difficulty of the "how", adding the fact that the "hows" are the toughest issues to deal with in these problems as they are often closely linked to the handling of emotions. Like playing one of those maze-puzzles in the newspapers or children activity books, finishing them easily because we get to see the maze from the top when it is way more difficult if we are in the maze itself. Sometimes I wonder what right do I to advise people regarding problems which I myself have never encountered before, or problems which I have encountered before but have not solved.

This year, for various reasons, I have learned to accept the fact that considering issues merely from a rational point of view is... irrational. When I considered what course to do in uni, I just chose what seemed at that time to be the best option for my future. I never considered the matter of enjoyment and feeling content with what I was doing. Now, I suffer from many uncertainties regarding the happiness of my future, the purpose of my studies and the bewilderment of what I should do after I graduate.

When deciding whether to enter into relationships, I used to consider only the facts and only factors that can be thought of, such as whether she and I can have a future together and whether our personalities complement each other. At that time, I thought things like chemistry between people could be easily developed and was not an important issue to consider just as long she seems compatible with me. I thought the matter of physical attraction could easily be overcome (I also learned that physical attraction is not restricted only to what we see, but I don't think that I will discuss that issue over my blog). I thought the concept of "loving without attachment" that was taught by many philosophers was easy to adopt. Damned, that ain't easy. When I love, I seem to want to be loved in return. Now, after various experiences and much frustration and contemplation over those experiences, I have begun to appreciate the inexplicable x-factor in relationships, the chemistry of love.

My mom is not very different. From what I can understand with my measely 20 years of experience on this world, my mom puts on something that can be almost called a facade. A facade of a tough woman whose decisions and actions are unhindered by emotions. The "you mess with me, I mess you up!" kind of person. She would have lots of potential to build an outstanding career if that really was her attitude. The only thing is, that isn't. She is so much more emotional and mushy inside. She can be so sweet when expressing her love to my paps, despite the fact that he isn't very creative in that sense (if you ever read this, i'm sorry! But it's true!). She lectures me about having to be mean to be successful in the real world, and then complains to me about how "sui", or what pricks some her friends can be when they have not shown appreciation for her friendship. She shows anger when she punishes us for disappointing her when in truth, she is crying within. The reason why she does not have that career is because her four children just takes too much of her time. Time that she prefers to do nothing else with but make sure that we are raised to be fine adults.

But whether she has or has not accepted the fact that she is an emotional person, I still do not know. Maybe she does, and we should play the game of life like her: showing that we are strong where we are weak. Or maybe she continues to put on the mask of a superwoman to remind herself that the world has no place for softies. I know at least for myself, I have learned to recognize the influences that emotions can have on my actions. Maybe someday I will get to find out what my mom is really thinks of herself and the world.

When Thought has No Enemy

2004-10-23T21:39:00.000-07:00

I felt back-pain this morning probably caused by overexertion during last night's dance performance. I am feeling the aggravated version now because "the show had to go on" tonight. Then someone whom I have a special place in my heart for was hurt tonight by a third party whom I have no influence over. Because she has a special place in my heart, I could feel my body seep her pain while I was with her. It soon transformed into an energy that many are familiar with: anger. It entered my bloodstream, and I could feel it boiling within. Last time, I expended it by doing push-ups. I could do a hell lot more push-ups when I am pissed. Now, I dance the angry night away. I could pop and lock a hell lot more vigorously when I am pissed. But tonight, I can't do squat. Every time I try to groove, my back stings. Damned third-party. Damned back-pain. Now I know how all those accident victims feel when they are upset with "Why must this happen to me!?!?!" while not being able to scratch their backside about it.

I need to find a new way to get rid of this fiery-tornado within before it consumes me. Quench it through meditation? Haven't done that in a while. But why waste all this energy? Ah, yes, my dear blog. I've been groovin so much til I hardly have the time to write. Its about 3 a.m on a Sunday morning. Perfect time to start writing again. The fire energizes my fingers and my mind.

Action is the enemy of thought. For the past few weeks, I had so much action that I spent too little time contemplating, pondering and settling my the issues that I have picked up while engaging in all that action. But now that my back is screwed up, I can't engage in anymore action. It's just my head, my fingers, and my keyboard working to calm the ripples and waves of the sea within me.

Meeting Leaders

2004-10-07T08:44:00.000-07:00

"Some men are born to lead, others are born to follow."

That is an often-used cliche. Some people might disagree, arguing that leaders are made. Others have a different opinion. Despite my past experiences many of those leadership camps and self-improvement courses, only lately have I begun a serious inquiry into the issue of leadership. This was prompted by the many people from colourful walks of life whom I have had the privilege of encountering this year. Some I have met by my active search for new friends, others I have met by incidents that suggest some weaving done by the hands of fate.

The first I met and the first I considered and criticized as a leader was the founder and is the "dance-director" of a dance ensemble that I have joined in university, called Flare Dance. She is also the first person whom I can consider as my dance instructor. Just like many other participants in the ensemble, the first thing that struck me about her was her voice. It was squeakish, high-pitched, and not something that I would like to hear too much of. Apart from her voice, she initially seemed like someone with strong leadership qualities. Passionate about her work, strong sense of character, very vocal, good at commanding attention, and expresses her sense of humour, although it doesn't have a universal appeal. But as I stayed longer with the ensemble, after hearing the experiences of others with her and having some experiences myself, I realised that the cake of leadership is much more than its icing. Some say that she manipulates the coordination of the ensembles activities to suit her desires, such as allocating the best dancers to her choreographed pieces. From my experiences, I just thinks she lacks an ability to establish a deep and personal connection with other dancers.

So is a sense of selflessness a trait that leaders should have? (Unfinished... need sleep)

Too shy for the waiter/ Too confident to impress

2004-08-02T23:54:00.000-07:00

The annonymous comment in my last post made me delve deeper into the emotion of pride. I thought about whether pride is truly necessary in our lives, whether it impedes spiritual growth, and how much of it I had within me that I never realised, and what opportunities do I have to delfate it.

Why are some people so painfully shy? Why are some people so irritatingly extroverted? Why can't some people even raise their hand at a restaurant to call the waiter for chilli flakes, while some people can spontaneously dance in the streets? I figured that this all boils down to two factors that have significant influence on our behaviours: Pride, and Self-Esteem.

Although to many, these two emotional and psychological elements may seem to be similar, I realised that they could actually have a negative relationship. Yeap. It could mean that the fuller the person is with pride, the less self-esteem he has, and vice-versa. Think about it. What is pride? I would say that it is an emotion caused be the desire to remain superior to others. Pride could even be the desire itself. Self-esteem, on the other hand, could be the extent of a person's confidence in his or her identity and ability for performance.

With those two definitions, the unwillingness of the person who is not willing to call out to the waiter can be explained. He has low self-esteem, so he fears that he might screw-up while asking for chilli flakes and the waiter might laugh at him. This is when his pride kicks in, because he does not want to feel inferior to the waiter. Makes sense? Take an instance from the other extreme: nutty science geniuses. Many people say that geniuses are a little cranky and often to weird stuff in public. Don't you think that this is because of their extremely high self-esteem? They have such a strong sense of identity and so much confidence in themselves that they don't give chicken shit about what people think about them. These people have no desire to feel greater than others because they already know what they can do that other's can't.

Of course, there are many other cases of people who are extroverted because they want to feed their pride. But I doubt these people have attained a high-level of self esteem. Yes, my thesis of pride can be rebutted in more than one way. But for know, with that knowledge, I understand the importance of self-esteem and the damages pride can cause to a person.

(Got to go deflate my pride now. Will continue next time).

A Mirror in Camp

2004-07-16T22:23:00.000-07:00

         Recently I just attended a camp/ rehearsal of my university's Chinese Music Group. I had a pretty good time, and our rehearsal there was the most productive one so far. Although I only spent one night at the tranquil camp site of Campedown, and I went there only with the intentions of rehearsing and having fun, I have discovered quite a bit more about myself.

       First, I realised that I still have quite a long way to go in my quest for universal love. I realised this when I met this guy. He was small in built, short in height, very knowledgable, very sociable, seemed to be very helpful towards others, had a cute girlfriend, and liked by everyone... everyone except me. Disliking him is an understatement. I think I actually found him rather repugnant. He complemented on my jacket, and I said thanks without smiling or even looking at him. But why? I hardly even know this guy. How can I dislike someone whom I don't know? Was I judging a person too quickly again? I sat away from the crowd, found some silence within me, and tried to squeeze out some spiritual washing-liquid to cleanse this stain of hatred from me.

        To eradicate the effect he is having on me, I first had to find the cause. Why did I find him so repugnant? Several reasons came up. This guy seemed to be going the distance to make everybody happy. He was flaunting his knowledge, his dance moves, trying to "help" us with our dance steps, and showing off whatever he could to impress people. Perhaps that reminded me of the part of myself that I am trying to get rid of. I too used to go the distance to impress people, make people laugh, and make people like me. I still do it once in a while, but I stop myself when I become mindful of my actions, because I came to realise that this form of popularity is just a secondary perk that comes from being truly sincere in wanting to help people and wanting to make people happier. So I guess that I despise this guy because I despise what I see in the reflection of a mirror in the form of this shorty.

         Another cause could be that I feel a little inadequate with him around. Everyone just loved him. Everyone welcomes him into conversations. Everyone smiles when he comes. The amount of attention that he can command is really impressive. I guess I just can't help but give him the label of "born leader". Now when I think about it, it seems to me that I still crave that kind of attention. There is this ego within me that is hungry, that wants to be fed with the "ooo's" and "ah's" and "wow's" and "haha's" of people. At one point in my life, I believed that I was made for that purpose. But at a later point in my life, I decided that this is a weakness that has almost led me to do stupid things, stopped me from doing smart things, and I had to stop feeding the blob of pride. Now, like a drug addict under rehabilitation with a poppy-filled syringe in front of him, I am tempted to regress into my old habits, and I am just hating the person who is tempting me.

          With him around, I also start to question my role in life again. I always thought that I had the capabilities to assume the leader role, and thought of getting into a field involving such capabilities. But after looking at him, I started to doubt that I had it within me. During the camp, my presence did not make people smile, did not make people happy, and I could not command as much attention as he could. He could get people to start playing pretty stupid looking but fun games, and he could get people to listen to what he has to say. I always had trouble doing such things in the past, but heck, leaders come in different shapes and sizes, with all kinds of abilities. He has the quality to entertain people, and I believe that I have others. All it takes is a challenge to present itself.

          There wasn't much fun in this camp. There never is much fun in discovering the dark-side of oneself. There is even less fun in rectifying it. It's hard to clear the clouds of my sky, and it's hard to let go of such burdens caused by certain desires. But the clear blue view and the lightness of releasing a sack is always worth the effort. Guess I have to thank this guy for letting me despise him.

That Sacred Place

2004-07-10T03:07:00.000-07:00

I love Frank Miller's Sin City. Almost every episode of these comics will captivate me to the very end and after. It's not your usual super-hero fantasy comic. This is comic-noir, with black and white pictures, with black, white and lots of gray story telling. I read most of them at my Uni's Rowden White library which is mostly for leisure purposes, cool eh? Once I bought one of them and brought it home. Despite it's darkness and its highly risque content, both my mom and dad who came across it seemed to like it. I guess there is a need to connect with the dark side within all of us.

I am currently reading the episode entitled Hell and Back. The hero is an ex-navy SEAL officer (otherwise, how is he supposed to kick ass?) who is currently a struggling artist. One day, he comes across a perfect-bodied ethnic beauty who was trying to jump off a cliff. He saves her, they chat, finds out that she was really artsy, and despite of, or because of her mysterious back ground, falls for her, and then comes the kiss. At that time, he got knocked out by tranqulizers, she got kidnapped, and he got battered and imprisoned by cops for being accused of taking drugs.

The greatest thing about Frank Miller's comics is that he describes the psychology of the heroes so well. In this comic, whenever the hero got caught up in distressful situations, he would go "Stay calm, stay cool. Ignore the surroundings. Go back to that private place in your mind. It has saved your life many times before. It is always waiting for you." And then there will be the picture of him meditating in some forest of New England. How often do you get a hero like that?

My question to myself after that was, if I got into a distressful situation, is there that private place in my mind that will always be waiting for me? A place that I can seek solace in? A place which might save my life some day? I thought pretty hard, and couldn't come up with anything. Perhaps I will be screwed in a distressful situation. Or maybe I need to be in a distressful situation to find that place.

Instead of getting into a distressful situation, I got into a small depressing situation. Right now, during the winter holidays, most of my friends have either gone to their home countries, or gone off for holidays. Apart from that, my I am a person who clings quite alot to social circles. So lonliness was inevitable. But I grew over it quite quickly, thanks to a really corny phrase: " No matter where I am, you will always be a part of me".

In fact, a farewell card I wrote to my friend Dave was based upon that phrase. The cure to loneliness was something I knew all along. I believe that what we are now is the result of the many forces that has shaped us. Most of these forces are the people we meet in our lives. All these people are part of us, and although some fade into the depths of our mind, they will always be somewhere inside. When I got lonely, I would think of the people whom I carry with me wherever I go: Hsu, Hendry, Wayne, Ruth, Gad, Sara, Ve Leong, Yanky, Dan Seet, Quek, Cindy, Dave, Liz, Liu Jing, Rui Jian, Tse Chuen, Dan Ding, Gen, Taka, Eun Yeung, Yeung Joo, Ga Ye, Shi Zheng, Sharlene, Khai Lee, the recently met Alice, Sin Sin, Si Shan, Tomoko and never forgetting family, Ed, Jean, Mom, Pops, Dex, Mei and Fei. I dare say that some of them are the loves of my life. With them in mind, there is always an ever-present home that I can go to, an everlasting source of warmth, a permanent sense of wholeness.

Now, it seems that I have found that private place in my mind, and I don't think I will ever be lonely again.

Seeing Universal Love

2004-07-04T08:10:00.000-07:00

Universal love. I used to be sceptical about the possibility of adopting that attitude. Buddhism encourages it, Christianity preaches it, but can we do it? Do we need to have it? I am glad that I now can answer those questions as my heart slowly opens and radiates its energy.

I have talked about hatred in one of my previous posts and how it slowly consumed me. Well, it seems to me now that love will indeed save the day. I decided that the best way to eradicate hatred from within me is by replacing it with something else, something on the other end of the spectrum. Slowly, I realised that it faded away.

I used to be extremely judgemental towards the people I meet. When I thought that someone looked like a bimbo, or someone looked like an "Ah Beng" or "Ah Lian" , I will keep a ten-meters away from them because I hated them. When I do see them from that far, I would put on a plastic smile. Now I judge much less, and empathize and understand more. I realised that what people are now is the result of a thousand forces that molded them in the past, so I can't be pissed about something that isn't exactly their doing. Also, if I only got to know the people who were really appealing to me, my views of life might be constricted because the views of those are probably the same as mine. Now, I feel more free from the shackles of judgement. Now, everyone who crosses my path has the potential to be my friend. Now, the smiles I give people are truly smiles from the heart.

Righteous anger? Righteous hatred? Is there such a thing? Is it neccesary? What is considered as righteous anger and hatred? Because a person has no morals, or has acted immorally? My friend Dave once asked me do I think that there are any morals which are inherent in humans. I thought about it, and I said no. Were we born knowing not to steal? No, we learned it. Were we born knowing not to kill? No, we learned it. How did we learn it? Probably by two ways: One is that society does not accept these acts and we will be punished if we perform them. Another is by the saying " Thou shalt not do unto others what you will not have done unto you". In other words, empathy has instilled these morals within us. Are we borned with empathy? Perhaps. But according to Daniel Goleman in his Emotional Intelligence, the feeling that criminals of the most atrocious of crimes lack is empathy. He also came to some conclusion that this was caused by the neglection of their parents.

So do we hate these, in a sense, "underpriviledged" people? I feel that hating them is like hating the disabled or hating the starving children of underdeveloped countries. Because of that, I have made the choice not to righteously hate them, but instead, pity them and have compassion for them. Punishing them and treating them with contempt, I believe, is the easy way out. It is healing that takes effort and time, and effort and time is something that many people of today's society just do not have, especially for criminals. So powerful is the act of opening ones arms and offering those who have done severe "wrongs" a second chance.

What about the people who have done me wrong? When that happens, anger seems inevitable. It just oozes out like lava from a volcano, without anything that can be done. If we do not douse it, it will burn us and perhaps our surroundings. How do we douse it? For me, its forgivness and again, empathy, which I believe are two fundamental components of love, or tools to achieve love. When we see things from another point of view, the lava will seem to cool. Once it is cool, we can find from within ourselves to forgive the person. If we cannot, then we can find it in confrontation, peaceful confrontation. If that too does not work, perhaps we must realise that such people are as unavoidable as lightning and storm.

Crap, that was a bad answer. It seems that I have only touched the tip of universal love. There is still much to learn about it. But now that I see it, I seem to want it more because I know that it is achievable, and that it is a wondrously beautiful liberation. The clouds of life have cleared a little bit now. Hopefully I will see the blue sky in time. And if universal love is achievable, what about universal unconditional love? Well, that is a discovery of another day.

No Good Times, but Good Experiences

2004-06-30T04:14:00.000-07:00

" A personal revolution is more important than a social one"

A few days ago, I received an e-mail from my old college, Trinity Foudation Studies. In the e-mail were pictures of current year students having fun. I miss those days. I consider my year in Trinity the best year I had in education. Drama classes, enjoyable tutorials, friendly and sincere lecturers, special events, and most of all, close friends whom I spent most of that year trying to find. Now? University... Sigh... So many people, but so few willing to make friends. Everyone in tutorials seem to be interested in only tutorial work. They just come and go. No one wants to make new friends. There is almost nothing in uni that brings its diverse students together as friends.

I look at the pictures, and I look back at my one and a half year at uni, and there was a longing within me for times like college year. Uni seemed so dry, so eventless, so empty. I can't remember any social event organised by university which I truly enjoyed, unlike Trinity, no Drama Week, no Big Noise, no Slave Auction, no fun. Good friends are scarce, good times almost do not exist. Then I asked myself how would I define a "good time"? Is a good time several moments of exhiliration, several moments of giving most of myself into emotions, or several moments of enjoying the fact that I have so many friends? It could be one of the three, or one of the many definitions that I failed to come up with, but I figured that what I should treasure more than good times are good experiences. I might even equate a good experience with a good time if I didn't think that good experiences are more valuable.

So what is a good experience? To me, a good experience is defined by its after effects. For an experience to be good, we have to come out of the experience intellectually or spiritually (both aren't much different to me) enriched. We must come out with a stronger, wiser, more nimble, more flexible and a more open mind. Have I gotten wiser since the day I left Trinity til the moment I am typing this post? I have to give that answer a "hell yeah". This means that although there haven't been many good times at uni, the past 18 months were filled with good experiences. They weren't filled with social events, there were no amateur student plays, no college students dancing on the streets, but there was lots of quietness, tranquility, calmness, and lots of enlightening moments. As I came close to filling the emptiness of the past by introspection, the process was accelerated when I came across someones blog which was where I got the above quote from. I still think that I didn't have much fun at uni so far, but I know that I have evolved spiritually, and for that, I am no less, if no more, happy and joyful.

Waking into Loneliness

2004-06-21T07:22:00.000-07:00

We were in the living room, sitting at opposite sides of a rectangular table. "Home was alright," she said, "I just wasn't used to the fact that I couldn't visit her anymore. She left so suddenly." "Such is the solitude of life. People come and go, whether we like it or not. Takes time to get used to it, but if there's anything, I'll be here" I assured her. We sat in silence, looking at the table, deep in our thoughts. Then I looked at her, and admired how attractive she was, one of the prettiest friends that I have, but never thought she was really right for me. She looked back with her prominently bright eyes, and held her gaze for as long as I held mine, which was broken when she stood up and walked around the table to sit on the chair next to me and then continued gazing.

She leaned over in a smooth motion and gently pushed her lips against mine. I was a little surprised, but showed none of it because of both the warmth of the kiss and the warmth I felt within. I miss this feeling, the feeling of eternal comfort and security, the feeling of letting down all my boundaries and living the moment of complete contentment. She drew her head back slowly, continuing her gaze from just now. "I never knew you felt this way" I said. She shrugged and replied, " I didn't know too." We wrapped out arms around each other, feeling the moment of uninterrupted and undisturbed joy, free of all sorrows, free of all pain...

The noise of the wind made me open my eyes. It blew hard against the window above my bed. I saw the floor of my room, clothes and papers scattered all over. I turned and looked forward at the dull white ceiling. Empty silence, empty sound of the wind. Empty heart. Damned wind, it was a good dream. The short lived feeling of eternal happiness thrown out like throwing water from a bucket. I sat upwards and couldn't help but think, "Was that a sign?" Nah, I've had such dreams before. They never mean anything, just the effect of my mind organizing memory. I took one as "sign" once. Turned me into an emotional jelly.

I sat there and thought of all the girls I know, and how I have been longing to connect with someone at a deeper level, but haven't dared to. Most of them are nice people, but most of them don't seem to be right for me. Perhaps i'm just being too choosy. Bringing a relationship to another level isn't just about hugs and kisses and having someone in my arms, it's way more than that, which might justify my choosiness. Airy-fairy feelings that we get from being close to someone is pleasant, but won't last for long. Sigh... many times, I wish it isn't so. But it is. So I continue to restrain myself to this emptiness, this lonliness, til I find the right person...

Hatred Rehabilitation

2004-06-17T06:00:00.001-07:00

A few days ago, as I was walking to a friend's place on Drummond Street, a car zoomed past me with its windows down and the head of its passengers sticking out yelling some crap at me. I wasn't sure of the crap that they were yelling about, but i'm sure that they were certain forms of insults. Why do people take pleasure in hurting others this way? Why do people like to indulge themselves in emotions such as hatred and anger? Even after the car zoomed by, the first thoughts that came to my mind before deciding to divert my energy into asking those constructive questions were "Damned Aussies!"

In trying to answer those questions, I reflected upon how I was progressing in my attempt to remove hatred from the concoction of emotions that I feel every hour of my days and nights. I noticed improvement when I thought of how I became more sincerely friendly towards those whom I have once regarded as people whom I hate to meet, such as the close-minded, the ignorant, the bimbotic. I also noticed that there was still room for improvement when I thought of how irritated I got when my father was nagging me about allocating time in exams and how hatred slowly consumed me when I thought of how I was doing all the cooking and lots of cleaning when my housemate was just sitting on his ass watching the Simpsons.

Hatred can be such a drug. We know that it's bad, but when it is evoked, many of us just inhale all of it in and slowly transform into the Angry Beast. Then we unleash our fury upon our surroundings. Glass vases, wooden chopsticks, concrete walls, friends, foes, and family, all become victims. Just like drugs, we feel high after venting the volcanic air. Just like drugs, we shrivel when guilt sets in. Thankfully for me, almost everytime before I turn into the Angry Beast, the cure for this drug kicks in: happiness. However, the fact that hatred even begins to set in so often really narrows my mind and hinders my actions. So a few weeks ago, I have made conscious efforts not to hate and not to grow angry.

But the question of why people like to indulge in such emotions is still unanswered. Why do we sometimes feel like bitchin'? Why are we sometimes in a "pissy" mood? Why do we polarize our hatred towards something by discussing how bad it is? As I reflect upon my short and meager history, the only conclusion that I can come up with is that since young, we are surrounded by hatred. In cartoons, good guys hate the baddies, while bad guys hate the goodies. In the news, we condemn the psycho killer without considering his history. In primary school (or my chinese school at least), teachers punish the under-achievers and the disobedient. In families, parents gossip about the ill-behaviour of other people while their children listen passively. Although many of us may think that we were treated with love and care since young, there are always small and subtle bits of bitter passion that are engraved within our characters. Perhaps that is why many of us love to hate.

Apart from that, I cannot think of any other explanation. I'd welcome any suggestions. But for now, as some wise man said, I shall "learn about life by looking backwards, and live it by leaning forwards."

Possibly the Ultimate Advice on Career

2004-06-14T06:12:00.000-07:00

A friend Gad asked me for general advice regarding which course he should choose and which university should he enter when he gets to Melbourne. He was one of the many students who is struggling between choosing the university course of his passion, or the university course which is more practical. The advice that I gave him was something that I had not thought of while I was choosing my course, and after I gave him my advice, I realised that I myself am not doing the right course.

I'm sure many people whom we have seeked advice regarding this matter, people such as our teachers, elder siblings or cousins, our parents, will tell us that we have to choose something that is practical. What do they mean by practical? Well, i'm sure many will agree that "practical" in this case involves achieving a degree of certainty in earning enough money for a comfortable or more than a comfortable living in the future. If this is the definition of "practicality" when it comes to choosing our uni course, then I urge those who are still choosing their course not to take this into consideration at all.

Most parents who read the last sentence will probably go "This stupid boy who still hasn't gone past his twenty years on earth doesn't know the crap that is oozing out of the hole in his face". True, I may still be too immature or inexperienced with life to have my say on this, but the reason to my conclusion has nothing to do with the belief that "Money isn't everything" or "Money doesn't bring happiness" or "Not all our goals in life are to earn millions of dollars". Money is bleeding important. It might not bring happiness, it might not be our goal to have enough money to wipe our asses with 100 dollar bills, but it is bleeding important. From the simple oats that I eat for breakfast to the mansion that Donald Trump lives in, it all involves an exchange of money. The course that we choose however, has very little to do with it.

The statement "Many millionaires out there don't even graduate from high-school" is a cliche, but the answer to how they do it is not. For numerous times my housemate has told me about the millionaires in Indonesia who have not even been to high-school, who started off as labourers and some how worked their way to riches. After that, we'd wonder about how they did it, and then go on to question how relevant the things we learn in our Bachelor of Commerce course, the most "practical" of courses is to getting rich. Then I realised that this most "practical" of courses will not ensure any security or comfort at all.

The Bachelor of Commerce course, and many other courses available are teaching us how to be employees. True, with a B.Commerce degree it might be easier for us to get a job after we graduate, but will it ensure us comfort and security in a longer run? Will the things we learn equip us with the knowledge to earn enough money for us to lead satisfying, let alone extravagant lives? I don't believe so. True, it will provide us with a good "Launchpad", but what about after-launch? I believe that it is not what we know, but how we use what we know that will make us successful. We can be successful if we correctly use what we learned from a B.Commerce course, from a B.Arts course, from Kindergarden, and especially from life itself. We must know what we possess that others don't, what we know that others don't, and who we know that others don't. In economic terms, we must know our Comparative Advantage, then apply it to earning our comfort.

A friend Dave told me about an aunty who had a degree in literature and was doing well in the business realm because of her ability in writing and understanding people. Dr. Phil (yes, I am a fan) says that "To become self-adequate we should know what we can do that others can't and what our characters possess that makes us unique instead of copying someone who is deemed as successful". In Robin Ryan's book "Winning Resumes", he says that " If we want our resumes to be noticed, we must flaunt our assests!" So instead of trying to obtain the assets of "successful" or "practical" people, like what we are trying to do in "practical" courses, shouldn't we be taking up courses that we are passionate about, and then flaunt the assets of our passion?

Strange how all the career advisors I went to never told me this...

Carefree and Guiltfree

2004-06-11T09:54:00.000-07:00

(This is a sequel to the last post. Do read it before going on with this one.)

I have hurt people before. I have inflicted pain upon good spirits that deserve none of what I have done to them. I have said and done things that became the arrows of an evil Legolas and struck people whom I loved. I have also done nothing at times when I should be doing something which sent more arrows of sorrow, arrows of despair flying everywhere, hurting the innocent who were close to me. The worst of all was that, I hurt people simply because I acted like myself. Just a few days ago, I found out that I did it again to a friend whom I got close to recently. Just a few days ago, I found out again when I received a letter from a family member saying that I wasn't spending time with her sincerely the last time I was home.

In most fantasy Role Playing Games, there is always a particular spell that causes damage to a character when that character damages someone else. It real life, I believe that spell is known as guilt. I learned from several books that every emotion we feel has a purpose. For a while, I wondered what guilt is for. The answer was simple: We feel guilt after we realise that some action performed by us before is wrong. Although "wrong" is a very relative term, we feel guilty probably to deter us from repeating that "wrong" action. So it can be said that guilt is there to refine our behaviour.

For me, and probably for many other people, one of the many actions that I consider "wrong" would be to emotionally hurt people by acting in a careless or selfish manner. So realising that we've hurt someone emotionally after we have done it would probably cause us to feel guilty. After feeling guilty, we would take precautions not to perform the same crime to avoid hurting the feelings of others, because in effect, it makes us avoid feeling guilty. This is how guilt refines our behaviour. More than a week ago, I believed in being brutally honest with people as I believed that would make them realise their flaws and rectify their character. That was before I hurt someone by being brutally honest, which aggravated the situation. I felt guilty, and decided that I should not always be brutally honest. Because many of us want to avoid the pain of guilt, many of us go to great lengths to refine our own character. People such as myself like receiving criticisms on my character because this way, I can refine myself before I do something to make myself feel guilty or any other painful emotion.

By now, the paradox that I mentioned in my last post should be obvious. In life, we should not fall in the trap of worrying about what other people feel about us, yet we must always consider what effects our actions will have on people's feelings. To me, this is one of the toughest balance to achieve. To embrace this paradox, we must take great pains just to figure out whose feelings should not be hurt, to what extent can we disturb people's emotions, so on and so forth. Yes, it does take a hell lot of effort, but hey, it's worth it! Right now, I can be as cool as Samuel L. Jackson, and be as sensitive as the Fab Five!

Plastic Surgery, Plastic Actions, Plastic Life

2004-06-07T20:16:00.000-07:00

During the past few days, I am somewhat happier than before. I am also more nervous because my Microeconomics and Quantitative Methods exams which are just around the corner keep showing their ugly faces within my thoughts, but that isn't what this post is about. This happiness is not the one you get from winning a lottrey ticket, neither is it the kind of happiness that you get from helping people. I believe this happiness is the effect of taking one step close to enlightenment.

It is strange how this all sparked from something as trivial my decision to finally watch Pulp Fiction. It was an awesome movie. But what was coolest about it was Samuel L.Jackson's character. He was a boisterous and God-loving hitman who quotes a rather cold passage from the Bible before taking-out his victims. He was so cool that I almost decided to assimilate his behaviour into my own, but realised that I might just end up being wanna-be. So I analysed his character more closely and came to a somewhat enlightening conclusion.

I have actually thought of this before- what makes some characters in the movies so cool, and why so many people who endevour to be like these characters turn out to be failures. It struck me that these cool characters are cool, not because they put effort into making themselves look cool, but it's because that they don't give a rat's left ass-cheek about what people think of them. It is not how they dress, how they talk, or how they shoot people. Rather, it is a certain outlook on life of theirs that sets them apart from the rest. It is their liberation from the anxiety that many of us suffer from constantly thinking of how we seem in the eye's of others that makes them so appealing to audiences. It was Samuel L.Jackson's disregard of what people thought of his mini-afro, the things he says in public and the things he does that makes people like me think he is cool.

A few weeks ago, I attended a Buddhist Society meeting where three nun's, preferably called Bikkhus, from Indonesia came to talk about Buddhism concepts in general and how to apply them to daily life. At one point, she spoke about how there was (and still is) a discrimination against females walking the path of monkhood and how females cannot achieve Nirvana. This severely hindered her from following her inner calling to become a Bikkhu. She then told us in Indonesian Malay that somehow, she decided that she would not let herself fall into the trap of discrimination and went on to follow her calling. That pulled the inspirational strings of my heart, an stirred many thoughts in my mind. Although I thought that she was more holy and enlightened than many of us, I definitely didn't think she was cool. Which was why I needed Samuel L. Jackson to give me a few more nudges to realise the flaws in my character.

Those weren't the only nudges. A few days later, my housemate turned on the TV and the southern-american accent of Doctor Phil echoed throughout our flat. Coincidentally, that day's show revolved around the topic of self-image because he was counselling people who had numerous cosmetic surgeries. To no surprise, the root of these people's problems was that they were too concerned about how other people thought they look like. When people made small albeit slightly hurtful comments, they took them so seriously that they were willing to spend thousands of dollars to alter their features. In other words, they were willing to spend thousands of dollars just to wipe these comments out of their daily lives. As the Doctor said, "Plastic surgery is just a superficial solution. It will not solve the true problem that is within yourselves".

It took a Bikkhu, a hitman, and a psychologist to deliver the blow that made me say "enough!" to plastic. Too much effort has been wasted on trying to put myself in the good light of other people's eyes. I decided that unless I am going for an interview, going for an audition, or getting involved in an activity that requires someone to be pleased, I will no longer regard the world as a stage and I will no longer regard myself as a daily actor. When thoughts such as " Won't people think it's weird?" or "Is this the proper way to bahave?" or "What will people think of me" flood my mind, I will purge them with the holiest and most cleansing of phrases: "Fuck It!!!".

HOWEVER, that is not the end. Along with this newfound happiness comes a paradox of life which is what the next post will be about... so stay tuned...

My gratitude

2004-06-07T07:08:00.000-07:00

Thanks to all those who bother to read and comment on my posts. To Charming Garlic, I'm not sure what happened, but I didn't remove that comment. Please post it again if possible. I love to read and assimilate other people's thoughts,however harsh they can be, into my mind. This way, it just keeps getting broader and broader...

It seems that this blog is more than a diary. It's another crossroad of life.

In the Light of her problems

2004-06-06T05:59:00.000-07:00

I must thank Carolyn for sharing with us her problems during the last OCF meeting. It really put several things in perspective.

First was that her problem really dwarfed most of our problems. Here we are, worrying about our entry to uni, worrying about our exams, worrying about our relationships, while there is a man worrying about losing his sight. No offense Carolyn, but I dare to say that your father in some way has taken his gift of sight for granted. Perhaps we should slow down with our so called "goals" in life, lessen the worries and take time to appreciate what we already have. Some people study while they eat. Some people study while they shit. Perhaps we should put our books down and focus on appreciating the sensations coming from our tastebuds and the sensation we get from letting go of waste before we lose these simple yet wonderful gifts of nature.

That night I prayed hard for Carolyn's father. It was the hardest prayer I have ever made and I never knew that it could be that exhausting. The next day, at Uni, I was approached by this guy from an animal rights activist group. He showed me pictures of how animals are being tortured for sport, how they suffer for our culinary pleasures, and how they suffer for our traditions. Then it occured to me how much pain is there in this world. I know Buddha teaches that life is suffering, but it was at that moment when I realised the scale of suffering that occur across the globe. So what do I do about it? Is there anything I can do about it? Will it make a difference?
Should I exhaust myself and pray and try to help all these beings in need? Well, I once told myself that although the parts we play for the world are often insignificant, we must still accomplish them. Otherwise, there might be no more world...

As I type this, the organs within my rib-cage are drowning with guilt because I realised that my own father once suffered from a cataract problem. But I didn't worry, I didn't pray, I didn't put much effort in helping him shoulder the burden. What should I blame? My immaturity? My ignorance? My lack of empathy? Sigh... All I can do now is be thankful that I have become aware of this, and shall take steps to ammend my character. It also seems that I owe my father an apology...

Thanks Carolyn for the light...

Days of the Papers

2004-06-03T08:11:00.000-07:00

Life is a solitary journey. Our path might intersect with the path of others, exchange lessons learned, but the rest of the journey is continued in solitude. To be attached to the person at the intersection might hinder spiritual growth as we might camp and loiter around the intersection and not go on with our journey. We must therefore learn to appreciate solitude.

This truth seems to swell during exam days, and it seems that I have not learn to appreciate solitude. Everyone else is so engrossed in their books that they hardly have the time to notice you. Friends will help you with your work if they know your work, but they hardly invest time in things like motivation. I have problem with studying motivation, but no one to help motivate me. I hope that I can find some inner strength before I take a solitary plunge.

At least this reminds me to always take notice of those who are always lurking in the background, and those who we think are waving but are actually drowning.

IGNITION

2004-06-03T08:03:00.000-07:00

Since I thought of starting a diary, might as well start a blog. A word of caution: These contents are made to challenge minds and expand horizons. Therefore, the blogger is not responsible for any psychological damages inflicted upon any reader such as depression, chronic rage, hysterical happiness etc. Comments can be as harsh as Chinese Primary School teachers. Enjoy! And thanks Fie of Fieguratively for prompting this.