Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Heroine of the Day: Joanna Lee

A lot of people say a lot of things.

A lot. Of People. And a lot. Of things.

They may say those things for effect, or for fun. Or even, sometimes, for nothing at all. They may say it because they think the occasions fits it, even if it's not true. Or they may say it regardless of the occasion, or its truth.

Rarely do people show it.

Show what?

Well, show what it means. Back it up. Make a stand. Say that "You're a good friend, and I appreciate you," and then show that they appreciate it.

That's not to say that they're not good friends, or that they never mean what they say. Not at all.

But when someone does show it, when someone does go the extra mile...

...well, that shows something. It touches my heart, and warms me no end.

Joanna Lee did that. She went the extra mile. Knowing that I wouldn't be able to watch X Men until mid June, she decided not to watch it until then. By choice. It doesn't matter that there may be other reasons for her to hold it off, she says that I'm a part of that reasoning. And I believe her.

Because she has shown me that she deserves to be believed.

Now I know that when I make the Last Stand, I won't be standing alone.

Thank you, Jo. I appreciate it.

And that, I do mean.

Friday, May 26, 2006

The Last Stand

I woke up this morning, lying unmoving in bed for a second, a minute, an hour, a year, an eternity, for time has become irrelevant for the listless.

For the Last Stand has been made.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

A Golden Silence

I flipped the phone off, placing it gently on the table as Damon did the same. "Who was it?" I asked him.

We're by the lake, rounding up an enjoyable evening's walk by taking in some of the sights and Saida (Sprite). The sun is setting slowly but surely, bathing all with a soft, golden ambience. The wind blew softly, gently, gently.

I felt inspired enough to make a phone call to a friend in Malaysia of the setting, knowing how she would enjoy such a scenario. Damon made a call at the same time, yabbering away in Chinese to someone.

"Kirsten," he said, cracking open his can of green tea. "Ahh," came my reply, slowly nodding. "I thought you might have called your girlfriend."

"Waiyo?"

"Well," I began, my gaze tracking two ducks chasing each other across the surface of the lake, "it's such a nice setting. Romantic, even. I figured you might have called your girlfriend to tell her of that, and that you're thinking of her or something."

"No, it's not good."

Now it's my turn. "Waiyo?"

"If I call her and tell her that, she will be angry. It is not nice for me to be here and to tell her that I'm in a nice place right now, because she is not with me."

"Ahh," I mused, sipping my Saida. "That's a good point."

Should've thought of that before I called my friend, then.

Sunday, May 21, 2006

Beautiful Dancer

A windless draft dragged in a drifting debris. A small feather, floating mindlessly and aimless in my humble abode.

I laid on the bed, writing notes of inspiration, and words of wisdom. My inspiration and my wisdom, at any rate.

I spotted it as it descended in front of the screen. I watched it closely, as it almost landed near the keyboards. Then I made to grab it, but the draft of my own hand pushed it away, floating ever higher.

I tracked the little critter, and moved my arms about ever quicker, trying desperately to catch it in my hands. It teased me, laughing as it dances in the air. I pursed my lips, a frown forming on my forehead.

Now it's annoying.

I placed the laptop on the desk, and, with careful precision, made a grab for it with both hands. It feels as if I had it. I looked up.

There's nothing there now. So it much be in my palms. Only one way to find out.

I opened my palm slightly.

It flew out of there, almost in a hurry. No!

It pirouetted in the air again, spinning a beautiful turn near the window. It turned once more, waving its goodbye, before floating outwards into the world outside.

I smiled, and shook my head.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

A Cold War

I feel cold.

I reached over for the blanket, covering myself from head to toe. Yet I know, at the same time, that it is not the coldness of my body that I seek comfort from, and protection against. It is the one in my heart, emptying away its own resounding beats.

"He was crying on the phone," read the text on screen. "You know that he never cries."

Hardly ever. How I know. And yet it is that knowledge that gnaws at me, biting away slowly at the pieces of emptiness that lies within. A battle I can't fight, a war I can't win.

It's crap being powerless, unable to do anything at all, to shield those you love against the rain of hurt.

Especially if that hurt is like mine.

The cold emptiness within.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

Twilight Zone

"No form of art goes beyond ordinary consciousness as film does, straight to our emotions, deep into the twilight room of the soul."

Ingmar Bergman - filmmaker

Saturday, May 13, 2006

Impossible Is Nothing

Last week, I went to watch Mission Impossible 3. Despite not being particularly excited by the trailers and teasers (watching them, you wouldn't know what the story is really about. Except that Tom Cruise is unbreakable, but you know that going in), I was glad to get to it, marking the end of a week long movie festival that is high on substance, but usually low on style.

And guns. And explosions. And girls. And gadgets.

Sometimes...you want to watch a movie with good actors, a compelling storyline, and a sense of cinematography that takes your breath away.

At other times...you just want to watch people get their heads blown off.

That time was last Friday. So no one actually gets their head blown off, but there were more than enough style and panache to keep me company.

Another reason why I went to watch it is not just for the sake of watching it. My friend and I watched it at the end of the Jeonju International Film Festival, and as the end of the festival.

For me, however, Mission Impossible is more than just an end.

It is the beginning. The beginning to the summer season. The beginning to big budget, mindless fun kind of movies. The X Men and the Superman Returns and the Pirates of the Caribbean 2 and Click and The Fast and the Furious 3 and The Da Vinci Code and Miami Vice and World Trade Center and...

...well, I think you get the point.

So, Mission Impossible is OK at best.

But that's OK.

It's not what I'm looking for.

Sunday, May 07, 2006

Arithmetic

Early January, 2005. T'was a cool summer's night in Singapore (but then again, almost every night in this region is a cool summer's night). I'm visiting my friend Zul, taking advantage of his hospitality before he shoots of to Australia. He drove aimlessly, taking in the city lights and vast, empty roads.

We've often been mistaken for each other, me more than him (being the only two Malay guys in Communications does that for you). Our kinship, however, is based on far more than race alone. In many respects, he's more like a brother at times, giving me guidance and pulling me along when I needed them. More often than not, he's spot on with his views (even if I don't like them at times).

He had just returned from New Zealand on holiday, and was telling me what it's like. "Here, check this out," he said, popping in a CD into the player. "I think you'll like it."

The song, Arithmetic by Brooke Fraser, opened up, the orchestral strains accompanied by a beautiful piano composition. Then Brooke started singing, her voice almost breathless. I felt almost the same, the lyrics words of poetry that resonates within my soul and taking me away. Far away.

As the song came to an end, I couldn't help but smile at the thought that somehow, things always work out, one way or another. Everything kinda adds up in the end (arithmetically or otherwise).

Oh, and for once, Zul is wrong. Kinda.

I didn't like it.

I loved it. Still do.

And now, I have it.

Thanks Jo. :>