July 31, 2007


Posted in Family, Happenings, Social Responsibility According to Me at 6:58 pm by meldee

I’m worn out. Frazzled, fried, half-baked, sauteed, steamed, rolled up and inserted in a bun and wrapped up in toxic plastic.

Ok so perhaps that was an unnecessary visual, but it’s all good ๐Ÿ™‚

Week three of uni, and I’m beginning to think I may have bitten off more than I can chew (as usual, nothing new there!).

On top of a full load of class, I have snagged the position of Assistant Returning Officer for the upcoming MUSA general elections, am writing for four publications, and have not long ago extended my services as willing dogsbody to the wonderful people at the All-Womens’ Action Society (AWAM). It’s only really beginning to hit me that I’m going to wear myself out, but hey! It’s only uni on top of work and volunteering, it could be worse ๐Ÿ™‚ I could be having a baby!

Heh ok that was completely random. But yeah, seriously. It feels good being active and productive, and I have the feeling that I am meant to do this—the writing, the volunteering.

I had a mystical experience in uni yesterday during lunch, over a frankly, rather bizarre conversation about tantric sex, when a classmate who is a self-taught healer and spiritualist took one look at me and said how he’s sorry I’ve been having a rough last few months. Which frankly, startled me because I hadn’t talked with him for ages. He also remarked how I have a lot of rage bottled up inside (whoops)…we talked about callings, about divinity, meditation, spirituality.

And the whole conversation left me feeling remarkably rejuvenated because I’ve always been a bit of an airy fairy, and hearing all this, right now, made everything fall into place ๐Ÿ™‚ Intuition is an amazing thing, and signs are all around us. I know I sound very mysterioso right now, but it’s all good. I’m not trying to explain myself, just merely relate my epiphany of sorts and encourage anyone else out there to do the same ๐Ÿ™‚

Today we also had two remarkable speakers from AWAM and WAO who spoke for the Wom*n’s Affairs Collective’s Feminism 101 talk in Monash’s Wom*n’s Room. It was a small session, but no less powerful—we traced the history of feminism in a Malaysian context, talked about what we can do to empower ourselves (the answer, my friends, is not blowing in the wind—it is in education, and finding one’s voice. Speak up and do it proudly, because our rights are all enshrined in the Federal Constitution) against everyday harassment.

It’s so inspiring being around strong, beautiful women who have such strong conviction in their beliefs, not only as feminists but as members of society because that’s what feminism is about to a large extent in this country—fighting for protection, or against obscure laws that affect all of us as citizens.

I’m waxing lyrical, and at the same time falling asleep. I suppose nobody really wants to listen to my endless yibberings, so I shall end it with pop culture propaganda: watch The Simpsons Movie, it is possibly the best movie I’ve seen all year save for Babel ๐Ÿ˜€

*hums* Spider-pig, spider-pig…

Yes by the way thanks for all the nice encouraging messages about the car ๐Ÿ˜€ To my shock and horror, driving back from my aunt’s place on Sunday night, I discovered that the backlight behind the speedo- and tachometer is a terrible, bright, brazen, incomprehensibly Ah Beng electric blue.

I am horrified to realise that I am driving an Ah Beng car.

But is ok, I like being different (just like everybody else ho hum), and plus I’m glad I don’t have to walk home anymore ;D

Just call me Ah Lian, but don’t ever forget that I could probably write circles around you or beat your ass in a game of Scrabble. Ha!


July 28, 2007

it’s here! :D

Posted in Happenings at 12:45 pm by meldee

Yay! Woots! Joy! Bliss! Lots of love all around!

The car’s finally here, after weeks of waiting and living in anticipation at the prospect of no longer having to depend on anyone and everyone for transport (you know who you are, you blessed souls you. Those who’ve brought me to/from dinners, mamak sessions, class…*heart* Thank you). I’m finally mobile!

But of course, there are the inevitable catches. The brother and I both predict I will now be the official chauffeur of the grandmother, who will guilt me into bringing her grocery shopping every week, to my aunts’ houses (ranging from USJ16 to Cheras *groan*)ย  and to her various and plentiful medical appointments. We also foresee my mother asking me to drive around her sister-in-law who has a car but refuses to use it, send her and her brood to church, and sending my brother to school, his guitar class, and potentially further karate grading classes.

I will of course be using subsidised petrol money, but on top of all this I need to still attend classes, run around doing the occasional interview and story, and maintain, nay, create a social life for myself.

“With great power comes great responsibility.” You can say that again, Brudder.

For the curious out there, it’s not a huge, expensive, luxurious car. It’s a Proton Saga (in keeping with the family tradition; almost everyone started out with a Proton Saga as their first car, heh) and it’s black. It’s got power steering (the only thing I really wanted *heart*), and is manual. I like manual cars. Mind you, this is the first time though that I’ve matied-engine in ages—after being so used to driving my mum’s clunking mucus green car with no power steering, and whose gears and all are incredibly unresponsive, this one is so light o_O

I drove back from Glenmarie with my mum screaming her precious head off in the front seat. Screaming that there were cars 20ft behind me, screaming that I was too close to the curb, screaming that I was going too fast, screaming because the car was swerving (hello, let me get used to the power steering can or not?!). Gaah.

Driving with one’s mother is damn stressful. At least my father just turns pale-faced (no mean feat, considering how tan he is) and pumps his right root up and down on an imaginary brake while clutching onto the Jesus-bars *winks at Jo for inside joke reference*.

Anyhoo, am glad I won’t have to trot to the bus stop any longer or depend on others for transport. Of course, mine will be another car added to the terrible mess that is USJ/Subang traffic, and worse still, another ‘female’ driver on the road. Of course I am not disputing the fact that I am female, but you know what the stereotype of female drivers is.

To some sad extent, I am one of them, in the sense that I will use any lull in traffic to check my hair/makeup, but however I do signal, I give way, and I sure as hell don’t tailgate *pointed looks at other female driver friends*. I will naturally cuss and swear like a fishwife, but it’s all good because I have latent roadrage that is just ready to bubble to the surface.

Another Subang driver on the road. Watch out, world.

July 27, 2007

black (scrap) metal

Posted in Random Ramblings at 4:19 pm by meldee

In reference to the above title, my car, soon to be known as the above, is still not here yet. Grr. After three days of living with false hope, I hope to finally collect it tomorrow.

Bloody hell, it better come soon. I am so transportically-challenged.

July 23, 2007


Posted in Random Ramblings at 9:44 pm by meldee

We played leapfrog in class today.ย  Literarily, not literally. As in, we played with words, not jumped over each others’ backs. (Just in case you scanned this really quick and didn’t read properly).

Writing Experiments is too fun ๐Ÿ˜€ I think all my classes are eerily fun, which probably makes most of you hate me right now.

Like in Contemporary TV Studies this morning, we watched the pilot for Buffy (‘Hellmouth’, which sadly, made all the 2nd/3rd years groan with the bad memories it evoked of Media Texts) in addition to an endless amount of yibbering purely because the auditorium is still wonky and the DVD player wouldn’t play.

Radio & TV Journalism, the lecture that followed, would probably make the more academically-oriented scream in terror because of the pure sacrilege. Our lecturer is an actual part time DJ who has been in the business eight years, who cusses eloquently and is remarkably disdainful of the amount of readings we have (ye gads, two readers, a tutorial guide and unit book. Who needs this shit, honestly!) and would prefer to scrap it. He’s also promised us field trips into actual radio stations, and hinted at the possibility of us being on his show and hosting live debates! *eyes shiny with excitement*

I’m sorry. Simple minds like mine are thrilled by the slightest thing, and I adore being different. Which is about as different as everybody else, which is actually not so different at the end of the day hmm.

I’m nattering now, I am aware. This is because I have had four doses of coffee today and the boyfriend is glad he isn’t here (said jokingly, of course. If he didn’t really want to be with me I’d kick his white ass from here to infinity) because he knows how dangerous I can get on too much caffeine. Even my being tired is done in a hyperactive fashion, which as one may guess, is not very fun.

So it’s week 2 of classes, and I have another 13 14 13 14 15 whateverfuck left. Who cares how many I have left, I cannot count. I’m deeply excited, of course, because thanks to the help of a blog reader of mine (you know who you are—bighugegigantoidhumongous hugs your way!) I am almost as good as on my way to Melbourne for my three-week mini-break with my hard-earned cash.

Not too many details, because someone might decide to ruin it for me and rat on me to my parents *evilly eyeballs any suspects*. All I can say is that if you really are that evil, you are the lowest form of low and I will despise you and all your future spawn and condemn you to no sexual orgasmic bliss—ever.

Hah! (I realise this is effective because I cursed Dahlia with this jokingly and she was so gobsmacked at the sheer horridness of it all and demanded, wide-eyed, that I take it back—yes, I am mature and also have plenty of equally, if not more, mature friends).

Also, woot woot—to all of you who have asked about when I would be getting Black (Scrap) Metal, let me with great joy announce that it is ready for collection, at the very latest by next week. Huzzah! Here’s to not taking an hour to get back home by bus and running the risk of being flattened by a careening lorry.


I went to watch my cousin Sylfyn tappety-tip-tap her way across the stage yesterday at the Civic Centre in Petaling Jaya for the annual Federal Academy of Ballet concert. It was really cute—because there were all these cute little kiddies doing their dance routines, some off time, some not at all elegantly, but some with all their hearts in it—and it evoked these ‘awwww…’ feelings within me. Anyway after the overdose of waist-high kiddos, the cousin and her group of tap-dancing friends seemed (haha, forgive me, Che) sesat-ed.

And I was too tickled by my aunt’s whispered comment that the tip-tap of their shoes sounded like ‘tahi lembu jatuh‘ (falling cow faeces) because that’s what her old marching instructor when she was in the police used to say. And by my grandmother’s loud but comical sighing that everyone looked the same and all she could see was white and red.


With me sending out job applications and such, it’s slowly sinking in that omigosh, I’m almost done with possibly the most memorable part of my life—university. While I admittedly cannot wait to be done so that I can finally become financially independent, I am also sad that the end has come so soon. I know there’s always the option to return for postgraduate studies; perhaps, in a few years. Definately not for the next two years, though. I need some changes.

I need the step back, away from the deadly dependency I have on the money of others. I need to start being my own person. I need to be away from my family, as evil and terrigible as that sounds—because I am the type of person who finds that distance enables me to endear loved ones, closer to me.

Like I am so crazyinsanemadunbelievably missing the Kiwi and everything about him; I cannot wait till the plane touches down and I get him all to myself for three heavenly, blissful weeks. Even if it’s just curled up on the couch with him in front of the TV, or driving around singing terribly off-key, or lying in bed in the dark talking about anything and everything.

It’s incredible how at peace I feel when I’m with him. I’m sorry if it sounds corny, but I’m marveling at it and haven’t stopped since I decided to give it a chance.

I feel complete in a way I never knew I could.


I’m addicted to Brooke Fraser’s clear, mellow voice. Hers, and Eva Cassidy’s. I love female vocalists who sing to lovely jazzy bluesy emo tunes.ย  *closes eyes in rapture*


I got an email from a friend just yesterday, and she ended with possibly the most beautiful quote I’ve heard in a long time. I don’t know if she coined it herself, or extracted it from somewhere, but the simple words touched me to the bottom of my heart, simply because I believe in the healing power of tears and the magic of dreams:

“Sometimes, the tears we weep are to water the dreams we hold close and refuse to let go.”

July 19, 2007

show me the money

Posted in Random Ramblings, Sad Stuff at 12:19 am by meldee

I feel like dying.

Not that it’s that easy to die just because one’s mind is in perpetual turmoil over all matters financial and the impending (now seemingly doom-and-gloom laden) future. I swear, I have an inner Virgo (or Capricorn, or Cancer) in here somewhere, one would think I am graduating tomorrow and have been asleep under a coconut shell for the past three years.

But I haven’t been, yet, I am freaking out of my mind. The reason behind my premature and possibly completely blown-out-of-proportion reactions?

I have just discovered (yes, maybe I have been under said coconut shell in hibernation for too long) that fresh graduates in my field (and perhaps, many others) is a measly RM1,500.

That’s probably the equivalent of what a toilet cleaner earns in a developed country, and better still, the amount my boyfriend earns in a week. Upon conversion, of course. And speaking of currency conversion, what is up with the skyrocketing Ringgit-Australian Dollar exchange rates?! It used to be around 2.7, now it’s 3.04!


My forehead has been creased with worry lines for the past two hours, and I feel the beginnings of a splitting migrane forming around my grey matter, compressing it and cutting off my air supply.

I am also seriously considering selling my soul to the Dark Side–-PR, Advertising and Marketing. *cue grating Psycho-esque slasher music* Or, if I am really desperate, banking and finance.

OK, shaddap ya. I happen to have the relevant (albeit uber-basic) qualifications, and can count with the invaluable assistance of a calculator. What I do not have, however, is the passion.

I want to travel. Write. Live. Love. I want to teach, to touch lives, to bring smiles to faces, to inspire others. Problem is, I cannot do any of this without money.

Work overseas? Of course, it is naturally something I have considered, especially with Tim being in Australia. However, does anyone realise how expensive work visas are? They run into the thousands of dollars, and honey, I just don’t have that kinda cash.

Thus, I need cash to make cash, and while I desperately and totally want to work in the media, specifically, writing, I am almost fevered enough by the pursuit of money to huff, ‘fuck it!’ and schlep over into some dull, terrible, stifling, contained work environment that would probably seriously dampen my spirits and kill whatever passion I had left in life.

I cannot work 9-5 jobs. I cannot. I’d die, seriously. I am a very restless person, I get bored so easily and I need constant change and challenges, and I need to meet people. I need my random inane conversations, and to be able to express myself and to do interesting stuff, not process papers and have the highlight of my day being a congregation at the office water cooler.

I’d sooner go into PR. Heh.

Why is it so terrible, the conditions of fresh graduates in this country? I mean I understand some are not up to par la, those ones deserve to work hard. But fuck me sideways, I’ve studied my ass off in uni (I have a 77% average over 5 semesters! Gaaaaaah! That’s not easy OK let me tell you!), researched and typed and edited till I was on my deathbed, sat through classes that literally bored me to tears…I DESERVE THE MONEY.

*stalks around with mad crazed look in eyes*

Oh God, I’ve lost it. I’ve succumbed to the evil influence of the Money Monster. Listen to me, ranting and raving like a looney tune.

But seriously though, no wonder so many people are upping and leaving for greener pastures. It’s almost stupid to stay, if you look at purely monetary reasons. Reasons of sentimentality, family, patriotism and that are a little more ambiguous, and I shall decline to comment on those areas. Simply because my brain is worn out from fretting and fussing over visas and job applications and the mounting frustration that NOBODY. IN. MY. INDUSTRY. IS. HIRING.

At least not online. I know for many media companies vacancies are applied for at random. (and paying v.poorly). SIGH!

Any big media moguls out there, hire me.

*lifts arms plaintively and looks up with big, moist, pleading eyes*


Good God I need comfort food in the worst possible way right now.

July 17, 2007

malaysian bloggers?

Posted in Dahlings, Malaysia, My Home, Random Ramblings, Social Responsibility According to Me at 10:05 pm by meldee

Who are Malaysian Bloggers, really? And what would be a ‘Malaysian Blogger’s Day’? My good friend Miss Lai (who is almost done with exams by the way, huzzah!) offered a definition that ran thus:

“The definition of a Malaysian Bloggerโ€™s Day would be when everybody, every single blogger.. food bloggers, photographers who blog to showcase their creations, pink coloured lip gloss loving bimbo(in a good way) bloggers, diary bloggers, tech bloggers, car bloggers, parent bloggers, lifestyle bloggers, socio political bloggers and random blog reading enthusiastsโ€ฆwhen these people come together, THATโ€™S a Malaysian Bloggerโ€™s Day.”

This was in response to an Advertlets-supported event held on July 14th that was allegedly for “bloggers all over Malaysia” to come and socialise, not to mention check out “Hot Hypertune Models and Cars”. Since Jolene did tirelessly blog an entire post about this, I shall hereby refer you to her blog (click on her link above) and follow the discussion, as well as feel free to add your two sen’s worth there, and here, if you wish.

As a Communications student and quasi-feminist (I do not feel qualified to call myself a fully-fledged one because I feel that I lack the foundation of feminist theories—which I plan on changing by participating in my womens’ studies unit—also, much as it shames me to admit this, I am a tad too self-absorbed to be a full-on feminist.

I do, however, believe in the freedom of informed choice, which to me, includes the choice to shave my legs and not have a unibrow as well as maintain my quasi-feminist views. In my opinion, just because one is a feminist, it is not a reasonable excuse to neglect one’s personal grooming for the sake of projecting a positive first impression. Because as much as we hate to admit it, everybody judges everybody’s appearances.

Er, what was I saying?

Yes, ok, as a student and quasi-feminist…looking at this ‘Malaysian Bloggers’ event from a feminist perspective and observing the somewhat tragic use of female models as bait to lure testosterone-laden males to the event, and the sheer lack of diversity in the choice of bloggers invited and the categorisation of certain females as ‘hot non-bloggers’ etc etc on the blogsite of an organiser (I was considering linking it, then decided against it because I refuse to start/antagonise a blog war among the two factions of blog-advertisers/mediums/whatnot (Nuffnang and Advertlets supporters, etc), quite sickened me.

Blogging is more than just talking about one’s day, rants, inner thoughts, etc, or politics, the environment, and more. It stands for something much more than that, it is the freedom to choose what we want to blog about, but to do it responsibly.

Unlike others, I do not ridicule or look down my nose at bloggers who choose to use their sites as spaces to talk about their days, their hopes and dreams, ambitions, etc…to showcase artwork and photography, achieve sexual gratification, indulge in narcissistic behaviour, kutuk the Government, their mothers, their lecturers, whatever.

Blogging is about freedom of expression, which is guaranteed under the Federal Constitution, which states under Article 10 that “every citizen has the right to freedom of speech and expression…all citizens have the right to assemble peaceably and without arms”, which of course, is subject to further restrictions.

Therefore, we are all participating in what Jurgen Habermas termed the ‘public sphere’, a space where every citizen has the right to gather, without discrimination, to voice matters of public opinion. And if you decide your day stuck in KL traffic constitutes public interest (because you may list roads which are particularly congested, to warn other motorists to stay away at a particular hour?), who is anyone to judge you on what qualifies as ‘quality’ blogging?

Elitist mentality aside, all bloggers count for something, I reckon, and we all play an integral role in creating this new public sphere for the betterment of our country, as a whole. From the political, to the satirical, to the anonymous, to the self-centered blogger, we are all important and don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.

What irked me so about this event though, was the sheer lack of diversity in blogging genres, if you like, and the types of corresponding blogger. How can anyone be partisan enough to term an event ‘Malaysian Blogger’s Day’ when there are only a select type of blogger who is eligible to attend, or indeed, privileged above others? Better call it ‘Hot Blogger’s Day’ or ‘Chun Blogger’s Day’ or ‘Happening Blogger’s Day’, but not ‘Malaysian Blogger’s Day’, because you’re only deriving such a small, and clearly, select sample of actual bloggers.

While I acknowledge that events are a right pain to organise and execute (so kudos to the organisers; credit must still be given where due), I am both disappointed and saddened that such an activity, blogging, has been turned into such a profit-motivated industry. While I admit I was once signed up with Nuffnang on my old blog, I am fine with the fact that with WordPress, I cannot have advertisers and the like—and I find I am preferring it that way. It will be truly a sad day when bloggers stop blogging for the pleasure they derive from it, and do it solely to generate additional income.

I was also annoyed by the justification given by the chairperson of this company, that not only were there female models for the males to perve at, there were also male models, oh my! As you would be able to derive from my rant on Jolene’s blog, which almost contitutes an entire post by itself, I was pretty ticked-off by this placatory justification, as if trying to soothe a small child throwing a tantrum.

Please lah. Don’t generalise and lump all females under the category ‘Swooning Airheads’, thinking we would take one look at tight male bodies and want to have their babies. It is both insulting and demeaning. Not to mention incredibly patronising and chauvinistic.

The purpose of this rant, in a nutshell, I suppose, would be if you want to tag something ‘Malaysian Blogger’s Day’, either specify what type of bloggers you are targeting or drawing, or really invite all bloggers from all genres to be present, in a show of solidarity for the future of bloggers in Malaysia. And using models to lure bloggers just cheapens the whole thing—let me just add a disclaimer now that this is not a personal attack against anyone, or those who chose to participate—real blogging, no matter what kind, does not need a cheap bait like that.

While I have never been to an actual blog meet, nor intend to, after much cogitation, unless it features individuals who are really intent on bigger issues such as the freedom of the media and revamping our obsolete media and sedition laws, I suppose they are all not bad. I mean, whatever rocks your boat, right?

Blog meets about ‘serious’ issues doesn’t necessarily have to be boring, tear-inducing stuff, it can also be fun—it all depends on how it is executed. It’s just the false advertising labeling that cheeses me off so and the subsequent lame-ass justifications given to support their actions.

In case anyone’s really interested in the future of blogging, the Centre for Independent Journalism has on their site the Reporters Without Borders (RSF) Blogger’s Handbook which is downloadable for free. There are “handy tips and technical advice on how to to remain anonymous and to get round censorship, by choosing the most suitable method for each situation. It also explains how to set up and make the most of a blog, to publicise it (getting it picked up efficiently by search-engines) and to establish its credibility through observing basic ethical and journalistic principles.” ..” – CIJ.

I also think blogging ethics is a very underrated and important thing for all ‘serious’ bloggers to consider—whether you’re talking about yourself or the entire country. Like it or not, bloggers are increasingly becoming citizen journalists, and like journalists, they too need to have a degree of responsibility.

So next time, folks, do think about the bigger picture and the implications of announcing something as a ‘Malaysian’ meet. Because one should not discriminate against what type of bloggers or who they choose to let advertise on their blogs, or whether they are ‘hot’ or not, whether they are model material or Monash material (just had to *snigger*), whether they are fixated on navel-gazing or looking into the horizon…

…because at the end of the day, we are all Malaysians. And we are part of this blogosphere, and it’s ours to share and nurture so we don’t have this privilege taken away.

Unless of course, that is what you really want.

And to that, I will declare loudly and without any apology of any kind that you are the most despicable type of person there is; selfish, arrogant and unappreciative. And you ought to be shot when it’s hot and left to rot while the rest of us smoke pot and care not. Ha!


On a completely different note. Today my pretty Bangkok ballet flats chucked a spazz on me, having not being worn in over a year, and decided to flap open, crocodile-mouthed. All day I had to hobble around campus like I’d been grievously injured while feeling cold air whoosh past my toes.

So desperate was I, I taped it together pathetically with a plaster and had to call my father up to pick me up after class (he burst out laughing when I told him and had a huge grin on his face as he pulled up to pick me up) because there would be no way I’d be able to take the bus.

I also almost begged a rubber band off the folks at the financial counter to tie my shoe to my foot. Le sigh.

Only these kind of things will happen to me right?

By the way, my article on KLG Sqwad came out in today’s R.Age. I am diversifying into writing about music now ๐Ÿ™‚


Back to the more serious issue of bloggers, by the way, I was reminded of Nathaniel Tan, who is, I think, still under remand. The CIJ website also has a story urging Big Brother not to take action against bloggers and to release him immediately. Now, this is a serious issue, and I would like to urge all Malaysian bloggers to read up on this and be careful.

In reference to Article 10 as per above, where we are entitled to peaceful assembly without arms…I think the time has come where the state has realised that the pen, (or in this case, the keyboard), and the power of words far exceeds that of arms.

So, just be careful, ok, folks?


When I say be careful, I don’t mean it in the ‘don’t toe the Government line’ kind of way—I meant to be careful as in remain ethical and responsible. Thanks to a friend for pointing that out before I got accused of being a propagandist, for that I am not ๐Ÿ™‚

July 16, 2007

joshua bell/commence final semester

Posted in Family, Happenings, Random Ramblings at 9:28 pm by meldee

I went to watch Joshua Bell live in performance yesterday at the KLCC MPO with Tems and Joanne ๐Ÿ˜€ We got our tickets heaps early, maybe as far as two months back, and have been eagerly awaiting being in the presence of this music maestro, left to gawp in the audience at his dexterity and amazing violinistic (?!) skills.

*breathes awe-stricken sigh*

First of all, I’m a huuuuuuge music buff. Any kind of music—while I’ll be the first one to admit that I have no formal training in music (unless you count a few months of crappy keyboard training at Yamaha in Parade), I will also say that I do not discriminate (much) when it comes to music (unless it’s techno or trance). I love my classical stuff, and adore strings…

Secondly, Joshua Bell. Not only is he incredibly talented, he is pretty darn good looking too (in some pictures, he reminded me very much of Philip Dearman though, for some reason! Eeps.) though he may not have looked his best yesterday, oh wells. The audience was silent throughout his amazing performance (one piece, with a sympathy/appreciative encore, because the people wouldn’t stop clapping!) and heaved a collective sigh of appreciation when he was done.

Thirdly, this being my first time at the MPO, I was awestruck. I loved everything, the quiet, cool, classy atmosphere, the dim, sophisticated lighting, the sinks in the toilet cubicles (because I am a jakun) …not to mention entering the actual hall itself and taking in the intricate (and arguably,verging on tacky) details. When the orchestra started to play, watching the bows move up and down in unison, the swift, almost poetic movements of the conductor, the passion that emanated from the stage…I was hooked. I am hooked.

Apparently they’re playing Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake in November. *swoons* I hope I’ll be back from Melbourne by then…made calls today, and apparently the MATTA fair tickets usually only last two weeks, which is terrible news, but better than nothing I reckon.

Sigh. I suppose love, like anything else, is only rewarding if you put much effort, time, and devotion into it.

Digress, another point. Josh Groban is touring this region too, come year end. My, my. I have too many Josh-Loves in my life, Josh Groban (for always, forever), Joshua Bell, Joshua Tan. Haha the last one, in jest, but I reckon KKB will get a rise out of it considering how he’s always making fun of us.


So I began my finalย  semester at Monash today. The new campus, as everyone has been saying, is pretty impressive. Given today’s the first day of it being fully operational, there were the inevitable hiccups, like this lecture of some boring-ass bioscience guy rambling on and on transmitting into all five lower level lecture theaters while we were watching the first screening for our Contemporary TV Studies class, Soapdish (a satirical film parodying the ridiculous world of soap opera, starring Whoopi Goldberg, Robert Downey Jr., Teri Hatcher, etc).

I like Contemporary TV Studies already, because for our first assignment we are required to watch at least one season of either The Sopranos, Buffy, or…..Sex And The City! Plus we have to write a critique on two articles from a book/texts about the above mentioned texts. I could feel the frisson of excitement among the girls as SATC was mentioned.

*wiggles toes in glee*

Also, another subject I’m sure I’ll enjoy—Writing Experiments ๐Ÿ˜€ We get to do all sorts of weird and wonderful things and break with discursive conventions and syntax and come up with some funky shit in class—huzzah! For our final project, we are to submit a 2,000 word piece for grading purposes, but can also opt to present our work visually—2,000 words in a song, play, sculpture, dance, etc…it’s a wonderful and liberating idea, to let our work transcend words!

I can’t wait to get started, I have about a million (possibly terrible) ideas bouncing around in my head. I want to do something huge and flamboyant, in keeping with my loud, OTT Sagittarius bits.

Yes, in case thou art wondering, I have been dabbling back into the world of astrology thanks to a new, good friend ๐Ÿ˜‰ And Linda Goodman. Who is and has always been my astrological sifu ever since I got hooked at age 11. Anyone want personal astro-analyses done? ๐Ÿ™‚ Heh.

In case anyone’s wondering, I am a Pisces Sun and Venus, Aries Rising and Mercury, and Sagittarius Moon and Mars. Yes, I am very fire-influenced; very indignant when I feel my integrity is being questioned, very friendly (and clumsy). I have wanderlust and will always say the most tactless, terrible things because the words skip the filtering portion of my brain and come tumbling out my mouth uncensored. Yet, I can also be the girliest girl there ever was, and love daydreaming and scribbling poetic lovemush and walking around with my noggin in the clouds.

Aaah. Astrology. I like.

Tems and Joanne, you can get over my buying the book yesterday now—I’ve come clean ๐Ÿ™‚


This morning as I was loitering about the foyer reading the morning paper, I noticed two huge Lexus pulling up to the compounds, one silver, one black. Knowing how hard the guards are on simply letting people in, I thought it was going to be the PVC or someone of similar ranking pulling up.

My curiousity was piqued when I saw two men hop out of the first Lexus, run to the second one, and pull the front door open. And emerged…..a girl. With a backpack, and plastic file. The men ushered whom I presume is her younger brother into the frontย  seat before rushing back into their Lexus and pulling out of the compound as the girl stood waving at the cars for the longest time.

Now. What. The. Fuck.

If the girl in question is the daughter of a V.V.I.P (in which case she is likely to be), wouldn’t one suppose that all this extra attention, especially in the main foyer area teeming with keeno students on the first day of classes be bound to draw some, if not more attention of potential would-be faker friends or kidnappers or what-have-you?

I absolutely despise how people in this country (and of course, by extension, all over the world) think that because they have money they can buy absofuckinglutely anything and everything. Two Lexus to fit two people in each? Just because she’s privileged she cannot walk from the main gates into the compound, and on that same note, is thus rendered incapable of opening her own car door?!


You are in university, for crying out loud. An institution for higher learning. Learning that cannot be presented to you on a silver platter because you need to put in your own effort into your work. Honestly, just by witnessing this girl having, nay, allowing, someone else in another car to open her door for her seems to indicate to me a person who would want the easiest way out, and thus, forsake work, and hog the space another more deserving, intelligent person could have gotten! Why? Because she has the money!


I’m so disgusted. I hate the whole thing, having to have someone else do your shit. Especially open your car door. Like I mean I wouldn’t mind it if it were at a particular posh location, or a one-off thing, like the boyfriend opening the door for you before you go on a special date, but at uni? In broad daylight? Having to exit another car just to open a fucking door? That’s downright ridiculous.

I reckon it’s more than sour grapes speaking now. My Sagittarian bits are outraged that someone who is in perfect physical condition could permit such a pointless and degrading act of subservience. I hate fakers and can spot them a mile off, I always feel uncomfortable around people who are particularly nice or sucky-uppy. I can just tell, all right? That’s my Piscean psychic capabilities and ultra-sensitive emotional tuning fork doing the job.

Grr. Anyhoo, I should try not to get too worked up about petty, small, ridiculous things that are no real concern of mine anyway. I shall read more Linda Goodman, and meditate over her wise words, and memorise the section on how to recognise people from particular sun signs so I can go nuts analysing people.


July 12, 2007

because i can

Posted in Happenings, Random Ramblings at 9:22 pm by meldee

Long day today, covering an event for R.Age before heading to Klang for an interview.

Took me bloody ages to get home too, thanks to rush hour traffic.

All day I’ve been in agony because I know unofficial results come out this evening; so when I finally got to my computer and logged into WES, I let out a scream so loud (I think it was “Oh my GOD!”) my Dad was poised to run upstairs to save me from danger.

Pardon the exceeding sense of smugness and utter arrogance, but I did splendiferously. On top of working and freelancing, studying, and scrimping like all fuck to go back to Australia, combined with parental woes and all that jazz—

Cultural and Communications Policy – 80, HD

Communication Research and Methodology – 85, HD

Writing 1: Techniques – 84, HD

Public Relations Theory and Practice – 75, D

FUCK YEAH! (sorry, but I think this occasion calls for a ‘fuck’ or two, used v.happily, of course)

I am officially over the moon.

On another note, my article on Student Voter Apathy came out in R.Age today. It’s about the apathetic attitude of young, urban, middle-class eligible voters—I am officially no longer one of you because I went to register to vote two days ago. Bring your IC, go to a post office, and tell them you want to register. That’s it. No money, no hassle.

Like I said, if you don’t vote, you have no right to kutuk the Government. So if you want in on the fun, go register, and make sure you show up on voting day.

I am so happy ๐Ÿ˜€

July 11, 2007

edi&lipeng’s 21st/musings

Posted in Dahlings, Friends, Happenings, Random Ramblings, Snapshots at 1:44 pm by meldee

They’ve been together since the middle of Form 3, are each others’ bestest friend, and their families get along so well.

It goes without saying that we all think Edison and Li Peng were meant for each other, because they look so adorable, and because their joint 21st smacked of pre-wedding feelings. They even had a registration counter, and instead of a guestbook, there was a huge card which they’d frame.

Held at the Atrium Cafe in Sunway Hotel with a scrumptious buffet spread (I ate mostly fish, hm. I love fish!) and impressive array of cakes, it was worth not eating all day.

It’s been ages since I’ve seen most of these people; folks like Hsu Yin, Phing Phing and Mun Sin whom I haven’t seen since Form 5 ended (eeps!). This photoblog entry is more for the benefit of the rest of the Dahlings who aren’t here (you know who you are)—we miss you all heaps and loads and want you all to come home ASAP!

Mun Teng, LiPeng&Edison (because they are one, heh), She Dee, Teng Choon (my funny Canberra friend! <3), me.

I’m wearing my new Shopaholics top that arrived in the mail on Monday ๐Ÿ˜€ And my new pair of RM95 MNG jeans—woots! I know I said I boycott MNG but I was in KLCC yesterday, and all alone, and depressed cos I tried on a gorgeous pair of jeans in Topshop but I refuse to pay above RM100 for a pair of jeans or a dress, and RM50 for a top. The KLCC-MNG crowd is more civilised compared to the ones in Midvalley or Pyramid—bah! Oh, I’m also pleased to announce that my ass has shrunk a size (hence the reason to buy new jeans—I can fit both my hands down my old jeans, all of them!) to an 8 now. Huzzah!

Heh, no offence—Jia Jun and Guan Siang are the worst photographers ever! They were just randomly snapping!

Hsu Yin—my first friend in secondary school, whose grandparents used to live up my road, who is now a second year med student in freaking -30 degrees weather in Moscow!

A fairly huge group photo of all the ex-Subang Utama peeps—and Ji Yang’s (Jay, hahahahaha) token white guy friend Alan from Melbourne, who was astonished to realise that I have a filthy mind and can make v.unladylike statements.

She Dee, Mun Teng, Ji Yang—me, Chien (love her hair! Aaah!) and the birthday girl (whose birthday was in April, heh).

Crazy women.

Me camwhoring and She Dee trying to make spoil—see, woman? Serves you right—try to kacau my picture, now you look like a ghost. Pfft.

A final group picture—thanks Edi&LiPeng, for a wonderful night catching up with old friends and reminiscing them good old high school days ๐Ÿ™‚


Do you believe we meet people for a reason?

I have always thought, even without discussions about past lives and karma, that certain people come into and touch our lives for a reason. You know how you can just automatically click with some people and talk about anything and everything for hours on end and feel a shared connection that’s so strong it’s almost spiritual, while with others, you take one look and dislike them instantly?

I’ve made a new friend recently, and we clicked almost instantly and got on like a house on fire. I met her (yes, it’s a she) at an event I was covering, and have been in touch regularly. We’ve been talking and sharing details about ourselves that I suppose not many others know or could know—our loves, our personalities, our shortcomings, our families. And a big part of this is astrology—we’re both huge astrobuffs and have been analysing and picking each other apart ๐Ÿ™‚

And it made me start to wonder, seriously, whether this is more than just a mere coincidence. I’ve always been in awe of her (she works with a famous NGO and is a regular columnist in a prominent daily) because of her commitment to others and utter selflessness—much as I aspire to do greater good in life, I also acknowledge that I am a little (too?) self-absorbed. I do get heated up over certain issues, but mostly ones that directly concern me—I’ve always, always found it amazing how others can extend so much goodness and time to people and causes that have no direct implication on their lives.

If I could wish for something and have it granted, I’d wish to be more selfless. Give more, take less; do more, talk less; smile from my heart; tell the stories of those who do not have the voice to tell it themselves. I am already so blessed in this life, for all my seemingly ungrateful whingings, and would love the chance to give back to society, as cheesy as that sounds.

Is this a calling? The aspiration to want to extend my hands to others, something I am yet still so reluctant to do? Could it be that I have met this person who is actively encouraging me to do what I want to do, and who does not judge me even though I have disclosed many deep, dark, embarrassing secrets about myself?

Perhaps it’s a sign that I am not who I really think I am; a sign that I am meant for other things.

Talking to my friend, about kids, animals, the less fortunate—it made me seriously reconsider my future life path. Would I really want to write for flaffy magazines all my life? Not really, honestly. I want to be a teacher, and perhaps, not in a conventional way. I remember the best teachers I’ve had were the ones who were always encouraging, always patient, always ready to listen, and I think that’s the biggest blessing you can have—a good teacher.

And not just in terms of academia, but life; yet, I am afraid because I don’t think I have the patience, or a heart that’s big enough. But maybe after meeting her, and another person who has astonished me by how much we have in common (another writer, heh), perhaps this is a sign that these times, they are a-changing.

I like to think this is the dawn of a new era in my life ๐Ÿ™‚ I’m at crossroads though, and confused—perhaps that’s why I’ve met two new teachers, who will help me find my path and walk it at my pace.

July 9, 2007

goldsoundsystem @ maison

Posted in Friends, Happenings, Snapshots at 12:45 pm by meldee

Ok so I’m supposed to be *working* yeah, that’s why I went to Maison again in the first place. But sadly right, I’ve been cracking my head over what to write for a 300-word review on their goldsoundsystem night, which plays house music. I mean in my honest opinion? It was ok. O-K.

Nothing fancy, the four of us (myself, Sue, Elaine and Mun Teng) didn’t even get remotely high and happy on the shared jug of Long Island Iced Tea (because we’re all broke, especially me, since I felt it my responsibility to pay for a larger proportion of costs because it’s my fault we had to endure bad KL traffic and have a crappy night out, boo hoo).

In fact we spent the one-and-a-half hour in Sue’s car beremo-ing to Sue’s emo CD, hitting replay on Bruce Springsteen’s Secret Garden and loudly reciting the lines from Jerry Maguire. Everytime after it ended, there’d be silence in the car as we all pondered our guy-situations (or lack thereof) and heaved huge sighs that could have possibly served to propel the car backwards (which would explain why we took so long to get to Jln Yap Ah Shak, heh).

Upon getting there also, the folks there didn’t even have a press kit waiting for me! What the hell. At least give la some old-ish press releases, or a list of the DJs playing in July. That one also I had to steal off the table upstairs. *grumpy face* What I did have though, was a giant, giant media tag with the words ‘limited access’. Strange right? Shouldn’t it be unlimited access? Oh wells.

We didn’t even get free drinks, or discounts. But me being the wuss I am, didn’t even ask, or protest, or insist. (this is because I feel like such a fraud. Everybody knows I’m not hip enough to be doing nightlife reviews! Give me fashion, or education, or even social issues. I just don’t feel this vibe :/ But gotta be a first time for everything, no?)

I was bored. I mean, I like house music, just not played at ear-splitting volume. Plus the smoky environment made my eyes water. I wanted to go home, or better still, be vegetating on one of the couches in Walker with Tim and lots of junk food and the prospect of curling up in bed and sleeping for 12 hours.

Plus, everyone in Maison is so young! I felt like an old fogey. Hand me my cane, young ‘un, and get me a glass of water so I can take my pills. Sigh.

Gripes aside, here are the first lot of photos. My Nikon’s seriously on its way to camera heaven; my Dad gave me a new set of rechargeable batteries and I’d charged them for 20 hours; 27 photos later the batteries were flat out deceased. Grr. Second lot of photos will be from Sue ๐Ÿ™‚

(I dunno why I feel such a compulsion to prove that I am happening. I then proceed to contradict myself by making statements about how bored I am, and how old I feel, etc. I’m a big old whinger)


While I quite like Maison’s interior, especially the spacious upper level, I found these things tacky, tacky, tacky.

DJ Afen at the turntables.

The upstairs bar—the place was damn empty till about 1am, but by then the four of us were dead bored and wanted to go mamak (“the highlight of our night”, Sue predicted).

My girls ๐Ÿ™‚ Sue, Elaine and Munty.

Long Island Iced Tea! My new fave drink ๐Ÿ™‚ (it was a little too much ice and too little drink, though, we reckon. Boo)

Me and my gigantoid media tag. I’ve not been this sober at a club since…well…not like I go clubbing a lot, so pfft.

Wait for the second batch ๐Ÿ™‚


Got ’em!

With Sue and Elaine.

We’ve seem to run into a strange fascination for pretend-kissing. Let’s just say the guys at Maison seemed pretty appreciative,but then don’t all guys dig girl-on-girl action?

Sue and her Personal Party Planner Elaine.

I heart my clubbing kaki.

Hell, I love everyone.

Lodsa lurve going round, uh-huh.

I still haven’t gotten the Cherry Picture from Sue yet. It was so sweet, she loves those preserved cherries and we were trying to fish them out of the jug for her. One of the bar attendants saw us, and tried to give it a go, then he had an epiphany and told us to wait a moment. We thought he’d gone to get a bucket or something to pour all the ice out—but a few minutes later he reappeared with four individual cherries in four glasses! So we posed for a picture and them gave them all to Sue.

Thank you, cherry-fetching Maison bar attendant ๐Ÿ™‚ We like you.


Onย  asking Munty to give me ideas for a pseudonym, she suggested Pat Poh. (Ethan remarked the other night I am like the Pat Poh News Network (PPNN) because I was updating him on Natalya Molok, who has been M.I.A. since her return to the tanahair.)

This completely cracked me up.

If things with Tim don’t work out (choi!) and I end up marrying someone with the surname Poh, our daughter is so gonna end up being called Patricia.

Pat Poh for short.


Ok, I’m done now.

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