The world is filled with people of questionable character. I've never professed to be a saint myself, but recent observations of someone I still categorize as a stranger have made me sick to my stomach. I won't give out any names, and all of you loyal, avid, intelligent, fantastic readers can make your own assumptions.
One thing I've never stood for is for someone in a relationship to cheat on his or her other. Perhaps one of the only things that I despise even more is someone trying to make a move on someone else who is already taken.
Sure, sure, it might be labelled as just a "friendly gesture", but come on. No one persists in attempts at contacting someone day in and day out asking over and over again to meet up for supposdly innocent get togethers and meals and drinks and what not.
I don't like judging people, and I've always had the mentality that everyone deserves a chance, but few deserve a second one. In this case, I make no judgment, but those of you involved should be able to live with the consequences of your actions.
Now that I'm done rambling, I need to get back to studying.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Comic Relief #110
Trust Jonno to randomly greet you on MSN with the weirdest and most disturbing things ever, and to offer the most honest opinions on homework as well.
Wrong Number
So here I am, sitting in front of my nice Sony Vaio with its faded "ASDQWE" buttons, trying to finish my write-up of Barack Obama's speech a while back. It's due tomorrow, and I need to be very optimistic to say I'm halfway through. Yet, I found myself clicking link after link ofrandom videos, starting with Obama's appearance on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, which soon led to, among other things, a rather obnoxious video of Uwe Boll all but begging anyone to start a "Pro-Uwe Boll" petition and another video of a few people playing rugby only to be anally probed by the unwelcome finger of an opponent.
Here's where my phone rings.
Now, it's not an exaggeration to say that everytime I look at my cellphone a little part of me dies as I envision myself wrestling with its user-unfriendly format and annoying strap. A phone is a phone, but this has got to be one Nokia that I'd like to trade in.
As the generic tone beeps, bleeps and chimes and the little black and red casing vibrates with all the energy of a newborn caterpillar, I think to myself, "Didn't you just call me less than five minutes ago? I'm trying to do my last minute work here." A private number, so I assumed that the girlfriend was calling me from the home of her pudgy little tuition kid. But I was wrong.
So wrong.
(Cue dramatic music)
As I answered the call ("picked up the phone" wouldn't be exactly accurate here, though I did have to physically lift it to my face), an unfamiliar voice greeted me like some disembodied soul sent to haunt a stranger. Only... this one was speaking something that sounded like English, but like it was being spoken by one of those weird Japanese people who are forced to read random English words on a game show, or else they'd be electrocuted.
"Hah...lo! Yoooo tock Chy-neese?"
"Err... what?"
"Ni shang sheh moh?"
"Wrong number."
"Ha?"
"Wrong number."
"Oh."
"..."
"Hello?"
"Wei?"
Here is where my patience runs out and I terminate the call. I swear, if there is a way to punch someone in the ear via a cellphone, I'd do it.
But back to my paper, I still need more than 2 pages to be safe.
My phone is ringing again.
Here's where my phone rings.
Now, it's not an exaggeration to say that everytime I look at my cellphone a little part of me dies as I envision myself wrestling with its user-unfriendly format and annoying strap. A phone is a phone, but this has got to be one Nokia that I'd like to trade in.
As the generic tone beeps, bleeps and chimes and the little black and red casing vibrates with all the energy of a newborn caterpillar, I think to myself, "Didn't you just call me less than five minutes ago? I'm trying to do my last minute work here." A private number, so I assumed that the girlfriend was calling me from the home of her pudgy little tuition kid. But I was wrong.
So wrong.
(Cue dramatic music)
As I answered the call ("picked up the phone" wouldn't be exactly accurate here, though I did have to physically lift it to my face), an unfamiliar voice greeted me like some disembodied soul sent to haunt a stranger. Only... this one was speaking something that sounded like English, but like it was being spoken by one of those weird Japanese people who are forced to read random English words on a game show, or else they'd be electrocuted.
"Hah...lo! Yoooo tock Chy-neese?"
"Err... what?"
"Ni shang sheh moh?"
"Wrong number."
"Ha?"
"Wrong number."
"Oh."
"..."
"Hello?"
"Wei?"
Here is where my patience runs out and I terminate the call. I swear, if there is a way to punch someone in the ear via a cellphone, I'd do it.
But back to my paper, I still need more than 2 pages to be safe.
My phone is ringing again.
Monday, April 14, 2008
The Long Ride
Been a while since I took a ride on the train alone, something I was forced via circumstance to do this morning. I guess it's these little mundane tasks that many of us hardly give a second thought that can seem so interesting once you detach yourself from them.
Stepping through the automated doors, the first thing I noticed, to my dismay, was the number of poor souls trapped in the carriage, their fate soon to be shared by yours truly. Finding myself a reasonably miniscule portoin of dusty floor, I attempted in vain to wrestle a book from my sling bag in the hope that some light reading would pass the time on the train.
First lesson learnt today: When people are packed so closely that they can probably overhear you thinking, one cannot remove a book from a bag unless everyone makes a conscious effort to give you the room to do so. Of course, knowing the general helpful nature of your average Singaporean, I would have been better off attempting to outrun the damn train.
I contented myself, instead, with listening to my iPod, after a few carefully-planned minutes of untangling the wires that connected the earphones to its scratched silver body. As Never Let You Go by Third Eye Blind echoed against my skull, I started to look around at my fellow commuters.
Before I go into detail, I will make one small confession. I don't actually check out girls, but I do notice, - because I am, among several things, male and not blind - if there are females in the vicinity whom I would not classify as having fallen through the ugly tree. That being said, I didn't find any this morning. But no worries, I was still happy because Man Utd beat Arsenal.
Pregnant lady to my left, thankfully without shopping bags. Standing, looking hopefully and mournfully at the seated youth before her. He looked slightly younger than me, with streaks of gold and yellow punctuating his floppy hair, and even more outlandish tones crawling over his cell phone. You all know the type. I could hear the techno music over the drone of the train. On my right, an Indian man who seemed particularly pungent this morning, an issue that was not helped by the fact he had both arms extended overhead to grasp the metal bar-pole-thing like his life depended on it. Behind me, a middle-aged Chinese aunty. I expected trouble from her, and she duly obliged a few stops later when she politely shoved my bag out of her way with her bags of groceries.
A few more sorry individuals entered our little world a short while later; among them, a youngish-looking man who was dressed to attend a business meeting, but was playing something that looked like Puzzle Bubble on his PSP. I never understood the public's sudden fascination with that thing. I mean, I love playing games, though I never owned a PSP myself. But when it was first released, it wasn't the overwhelming social phenomenon that some had predicted, and kinda died down. But in recent months, it seems everyone and their Ah Lian girlfriend are busy mashing the little buttons on their pink mini-consoles.
I spent the rest of the train ride going over how I was supposed to fabricate two days' worth of interviews and responses, as well as listening to Mercy Drive, Linkin Park, Funeral For a Friend and Michelle Branch, before arriving in school and all but bumping into Princess Tongue-Stud herself, Kania.
The rest of the day went well, hopefully it sets the tone for the rest of the week.
Stepping through the automated doors, the first thing I noticed, to my dismay, was the number of poor souls trapped in the carriage, their fate soon to be shared by yours truly. Finding myself a reasonably miniscule portoin of dusty floor, I attempted in vain to wrestle a book from my sling bag in the hope that some light reading would pass the time on the train.
First lesson learnt today: When people are packed so closely that they can probably overhear you thinking, one cannot remove a book from a bag unless everyone makes a conscious effort to give you the room to do so. Of course, knowing the general helpful nature of your average Singaporean, I would have been better off attempting to outrun the damn train.
I contented myself, instead, with listening to my iPod, after a few carefully-planned minutes of untangling the wires that connected the earphones to its scratched silver body. As Never Let You Go by Third Eye Blind echoed against my skull, I started to look around at my fellow commuters.
Before I go into detail, I will make one small confession. I don't actually check out girls, but I do notice, - because I am, among several things, male and not blind - if there are females in the vicinity whom I would not classify as having fallen through the ugly tree. That being said, I didn't find any this morning. But no worries, I was still happy because Man Utd beat Arsenal.
Pregnant lady to my left, thankfully without shopping bags. Standing, looking hopefully and mournfully at the seated youth before her. He looked slightly younger than me, with streaks of gold and yellow punctuating his floppy hair, and even more outlandish tones crawling over his cell phone. You all know the type. I could hear the techno music over the drone of the train. On my right, an Indian man who seemed particularly pungent this morning, an issue that was not helped by the fact he had both arms extended overhead to grasp the metal bar-pole-thing like his life depended on it. Behind me, a middle-aged Chinese aunty. I expected trouble from her, and she duly obliged a few stops later when she politely shoved my bag out of her way with her bags of groceries.
A few more sorry individuals entered our little world a short while later; among them, a youngish-looking man who was dressed to attend a business meeting, but was playing something that looked like Puzzle Bubble on his PSP. I never understood the public's sudden fascination with that thing. I mean, I love playing games, though I never owned a PSP myself. But when it was first released, it wasn't the overwhelming social phenomenon that some had predicted, and kinda died down. But in recent months, it seems everyone and their Ah Lian girlfriend are busy mashing the little buttons on their pink mini-consoles.
I spent the rest of the train ride going over how I was supposed to fabricate two days' worth of interviews and responses, as well as listening to Mercy Drive, Linkin Park, Funeral For a Friend and Michelle Branch, before arriving in school and all but bumping into Princess Tongue-Stud herself, Kania.
The rest of the day went well, hopefully it sets the tone for the rest of the week.
Comic Relief #109
Introducing the newest member of the cast of everyone's favourite Comic Relief, Verena. That isn't a crumbs or anything on the skirt, just "fashion faux pas", according to her.
And I'll choose to take the above quote as a compliment. I think.
And I'll choose to take the above quote as a compliment. I think.
Comic Relief #108
My latest attempt at replicating the super-lashes of a certain Miss Elizabeth. Not fantastic, probably far from it, but oh well.Saturday, April 12, 2008
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Sunday, March 30, 2008
The Orphanage
"What is the time, Mister Wolf?"
Many of us, no doubt, have chanted that seemingly innocuous-sounding line at some point during our childhood, amongst games of goli and hopscotch. After watching The Orphanage (or El Orfanato), the game takes an entirely new meaning altogether.
The Orphanage is a horror film directed by Juan Antonio Bayona and produced by Guillermo del Toro (Mimic, Hellboy, Blade II). I'm not exactly sure if it's Bayona's first attempt at what looks like a large budget film (i.e., I was too lazy to plug his name into Wiki), but I have to say, it's awesome.
Firstly, I watched the film less than 24 hours after watching Be Kind Rewind, so I was already quite pleased with my cinematic experiences for the week. Not totally satisfied, but pleased nontheless. The Orphanage was the girlfriend's pick, and a big, big, big part of me (no, not that part) has to thank her for a great choice.
If any of you have watched the film Hide and Seek, starring Robert de Niro and Dakota "Big Eyes" Fanning, you'd have been introduced to the concept of a sinister imaginary friend in a household as a villian of sorts. Like Hide and Seek, "of sorts" is the key term here. I can't really reveal more without spoiling anything for those of you who I'd advise to catch it (i.e. most of you), so I'll leave it at that. That aside, it seems like every section of the story-telling process fits together almost perfectly, with elements of gore, horror, suspense, drama, comedy and feel-good factor woven together in a masterful manner.
Now, the closest thing I've seen to a Spanish film before this one would probably be The Mask of Zorro, and that had Catherine Zeta Jones almost nude and fancy fight scenes. No nudity or fight sequences in The Orphanage, but I have to say that it's one of the few horror films that doesn't depend on shock factor to wow audiences. There are segments of the film where I was genuinely holding my breath, on the edge of my seat, thinking to myself, "What the fuck, what the fuck, WHAT THE FUCK is that?!?!?" and trust me, there are at least two instances where you feel that the plot seems to be taking a turn towards idiocy, but is then saved by a brilliant twist.
Plot holes. None that I can see. Excellent. Soundtrack, also close to none, which serves its purpose at least as much as the amazing job that the lead actress Belen Rueda does portraying a mother looking for her son.
The ending had some in tears, though I half-predicted it after a certain scene between Rueda and her on-screen husband, but nevertheless, it has neither the weakness of I Am Legend or the ambiguity of Cloverfield, leaving most happy, yet sad. Yes, sad ending. Prepare for it, guys and gals.
In closing, I'll have to give The Orphanage a really high rating, possibly full marks. It definitely beats Be Kind Rewind, which in itself wasn't a bad movie by far, and got me laughing out loud more than any other film I've seen recently.
5/5? Perhaps.
Many of us, no doubt, have chanted that seemingly innocuous-sounding line at some point during our childhood, amongst games of goli and hopscotch. After watching The Orphanage (or El Orfanato), the game takes an entirely new meaning altogether.
The Orphanage is a horror film directed by Juan Antonio Bayona and produced by Guillermo del Toro (Mimic, Hellboy, Blade II). I'm not exactly sure if it's Bayona's first attempt at what looks like a large budget film (i.e., I was too lazy to plug his name into Wiki), but I have to say, it's awesome.
Firstly, I watched the film less than 24 hours after watching Be Kind Rewind, so I was already quite pleased with my cinematic experiences for the week. Not totally satisfied, but pleased nontheless. The Orphanage was the girlfriend's pick, and a big, big, big part of me (no, not that part) has to thank her for a great choice.
If any of you have watched the film Hide and Seek, starring Robert de Niro and Dakota "Big Eyes" Fanning, you'd have been introduced to the concept of a sinister imaginary friend in a household as a villian of sorts. Like Hide and Seek, "of sorts" is the key term here. I can't really reveal more without spoiling anything for those of you who I'd advise to catch it (i.e. most of you), so I'll leave it at that. That aside, it seems like every section of the story-telling process fits together almost perfectly, with elements of gore, horror, suspense, drama, comedy and feel-good factor woven together in a masterful manner.
Now, the closest thing I've seen to a Spanish film before this one would probably be The Mask of Zorro, and that had Catherine Zeta Jones almost nude and fancy fight scenes. No nudity or fight sequences in The Orphanage, but I have to say that it's one of the few horror films that doesn't depend on shock factor to wow audiences. There are segments of the film where I was genuinely holding my breath, on the edge of my seat, thinking to myself, "What the fuck, what the fuck, WHAT THE FUCK is that?!?!?" and trust me, there are at least two instances where you feel that the plot seems to be taking a turn towards idiocy, but is then saved by a brilliant twist.
Plot holes. None that I can see. Excellent. Soundtrack, also close to none, which serves its purpose at least as much as the amazing job that the lead actress Belen Rueda does portraying a mother looking for her son.
The ending had some in tears, though I half-predicted it after a certain scene between Rueda and her on-screen husband, but nevertheless, it has neither the weakness of I Am Legend or the ambiguity of Cloverfield, leaving most happy, yet sad. Yes, sad ending. Prepare for it, guys and gals.
In closing, I'll have to give The Orphanage a really high rating, possibly full marks. It definitely beats Be Kind Rewind, which in itself wasn't a bad movie by far, and got me laughing out loud more than any other film I've seen recently.
5/5? Perhaps.
Friday, March 07, 2008
The Leap Years
If a man promises to meet you in four years time, but there is no one there to hear it, does it make a sound?
What the hell?
That's an actual excerpt from Mediacorp-Raintree's latest box office smash hit blockbuster, The Leap Years. And no, I haven't confused it with some philosophical Zen musing. But other than that totally misplaced bit of literary garbage, how was the film? Let's have a look...
Superficially, the movie is the hybrid spawn of Before Sunrise, The Holiday and Growing Up, with Wong Li-Lin leading the "stellar" ensemble as a 24-32 year old teacher/writer Li-Ann, maturing and falling for a stranger she meets, while at the same time fending off the advances of her best friend KS (and yes, we are never told his full name, more into this later). The movie follows a slightly confusing time-line, with much of it actually being flashbacks as an older Li-Ann(not played by Li-Lin) recalls the good and the bad while tearfully scribbling a note on a piece of paper. Careful observers would be able to guess much of the plot from what she writes/narrates in these first few scenes.
After Li-Ann/Lin falls for the afore-mentioned stranger, a few poblems arise, and startlingly similar to the whole catch of Before Sunrise, they agree to meet on the same date again in the future. Of course, because the date was Feb 29 (hence the title, SO CLEVER!), they are only to meet in four years time.
I won't spoil it any more for those of you who choose to watch it in theatres, but all in all, this is probably the best locally-produced film I've ever seen. And it's not even because of Wong Li-Lin parading around in skimpy clothes (if any) or the hilarious revelation regarding Vernetta Lopez' character.
Still, there are a few complaints that I can (and will) make.
Firstly, while I felt that Wong Li-Lin (and whoever played her mom) did a fan-fucking-tastic job, carrying the whole movie, really, some of the supporting cast didn't raise their game. The bloke playing KS, for example, sounds like Microsoft Bob, if he was Chinese. I might agree that his character is supposed to be "poor" and supposedly "uneducated", but he sounds like he just got off the junk from Beijing.
And his comical ramblings about regret and mistakes lead me to the first line of this entry. The idiotic dialogue that peppers an otherwise watchable film. I'm not a huge fan of love stories or romantic comedies, though I did enjoy things like Love, Actually. But some of the things said in The Leap Years sound like they were written by a pre-pubescent schoolgirl with little to no experience or knowledge of how people actually talk. Given that the film was heavily based on a "novella" by a Doctor Catherine Lim, the directors and producers are either totally ignorant (or stupid), or the book got switched for Mr Kiasu.
Some have complained of "plot holes" within the film. Avid, loyal, wonderful, intelligent, amazing readers of this glorious site would have picked up hints that I absolutely abhore plot holes in films; this one, however, didn't really have any major ones, or else I was just cringing from the speech of Qi Yu Wu as he slaughtered the English language with little else but his thin lips and floppy hair. The absence of plot holes aside, however, I particularly disliked the ending.
Many have mentioned that the film did a good job of bringing tears to their eyes, and as far as the ending goes, that fails in epic proportions. Lipstick and white furniture are the only things that stand out from the final scene, and if it had gone the other way, it would have been much more touching, I felt. Unless of course they were crying from the way a certain someone was shooting off words like he had a block of wood in his mouth. Or at the way Vernetta Lopez looked for most of the movie - about ready to report to work at McDonald's.
So, here I am, about done with my latest review. What's the verdict? The last time I remember Wong Li Lin was in Triple Nine with James Lye. Let's just say The Leap Years is no VR Man.
What the hell?
That's an actual excerpt from Mediacorp-Raintree's latest box office smash hit blockbuster, The Leap Years. And no, I haven't confused it with some philosophical Zen musing. But other than that totally misplaced bit of literary garbage, how was the film? Let's have a look...
Superficially, the movie is the hybrid spawn of Before Sunrise, The Holiday and Growing Up, with Wong Li-Lin leading the "stellar" ensemble as a 24-32 year old teacher/writer Li-Ann, maturing and falling for a stranger she meets, while at the same time fending off the advances of her best friend KS (and yes, we are never told his full name, more into this later). The movie follows a slightly confusing time-line, with much of it actually being flashbacks as an older Li-Ann(not played by Li-Lin) recalls the good and the bad while tearfully scribbling a note on a piece of paper. Careful observers would be able to guess much of the plot from what she writes/narrates in these first few scenes.
After Li-Ann/Lin falls for the afore-mentioned stranger, a few poblems arise, and startlingly similar to the whole catch of Before Sunrise, they agree to meet on the same date again in the future. Of course, because the date was Feb 29 (hence the title, SO CLEVER!), they are only to meet in four years time.
I won't spoil it any more for those of you who choose to watch it in theatres, but all in all, this is probably the best locally-produced film I've ever seen. And it's not even because of Wong Li-Lin parading around in skimpy clothes (if any) or the hilarious revelation regarding Vernetta Lopez' character.
Still, there are a few complaints that I can (and will) make.
Firstly, while I felt that Wong Li-Lin (and whoever played her mom) did a fan-fucking-tastic job, carrying the whole movie, really, some of the supporting cast didn't raise their game. The bloke playing KS, for example, sounds like Microsoft Bob, if he was Chinese. I might agree that his character is supposed to be "poor" and supposedly "uneducated", but he sounds like he just got off the junk from Beijing.
And his comical ramblings about regret and mistakes lead me to the first line of this entry. The idiotic dialogue that peppers an otherwise watchable film. I'm not a huge fan of love stories or romantic comedies, though I did enjoy things like Love, Actually. But some of the things said in The Leap Years sound like they were written by a pre-pubescent schoolgirl with little to no experience or knowledge of how people actually talk. Given that the film was heavily based on a "novella" by a Doctor Catherine Lim, the directors and producers are either totally ignorant (or stupid), or the book got switched for Mr Kiasu.
Some have complained of "plot holes" within the film. Avid, loyal, wonderful, intelligent, amazing readers of this glorious site would have picked up hints that I absolutely abhore plot holes in films; this one, however, didn't really have any major ones, or else I was just cringing from the speech of Qi Yu Wu as he slaughtered the English language with little else but his thin lips and floppy hair. The absence of plot holes aside, however, I particularly disliked the ending.
Many have mentioned that the film did a good job of bringing tears to their eyes, and as far as the ending goes, that fails in epic proportions. Lipstick and white furniture are the only things that stand out from the final scene, and if it had gone the other way, it would have been much more touching, I felt. Unless of course they were crying from the way a certain someone was shooting off words like he had a block of wood in his mouth. Or at the way Vernetta Lopez looked for most of the movie - about ready to report to work at McDonald's.
So, here I am, about done with my latest review. What's the verdict? The last time I remember Wong Li Lin was in Triple Nine with James Lye. Let's just say The Leap Years is no VR Man.
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
Better to Search or Find?
Big news. Terrorist escapes. Manhunt underway. The search is on.
By now, almost everyone reading would have been intimately familiar with the visage and name of a certain short Indonesian (not you, Kania) who walks with a limp. I personally only found out about it rather late, compared to most others. It was in school when someone rushed up to me and stammered "Naz did you hear about the terrorist? Oh my gawd!" and all I could do was to stare blankly and not appear irritated with my unmanageable hair.
Since then, I (like many others) have received curious "Wanted" messages (presumably) from the police amid the constant barrage of news reports on the radio and television, detailing that one Mas Selamat bin Kastari is "still in Singapore" and is "looking for food, money and shelter" despite the best efforts of our boys in blue. And in green.
Now... isn't it a bit, uh... stupid that a guy little bigger than a midget, with a limp, was able to single-handedly escape from a detention centre?
Come on.
Then again, alot of us, myself included, have been through time in the armed forces. Someone said that the guards were probably taking an impromptu canteen break while he was apparently relieving himself. Because, like, you know... it's not like he's going to escape, is he?
Because I'm such a helpful and patriotic guy, I'll even point out where he might actually be!
1. Siglap: The amount of construction sites and abandoned houses there are overwhelming.
2. The National Library: Because who really goes to a library where you aren't allowed to study?
3. A random S-League match: Who's going to see him?
4. Mediacorp Studios: More speicifically, the secret underground bunker where they keep the old tapes of VR Man.
5. Kembangan Plaza: WHo the hell goes there, except for, gasp, Indonesian maids and workers?
So he wanted to hijack a plane and crash it into the airport. One of our pride and joys. The big question is, however, which terminal? Terminal One is due for a makeover anyway... and Terminal Three seems to have been built wrong; it's more a shopping centre or a mall than an airport.
Of course, everyone has their own opinions and views on the incident, and how the search is going. There has been gossip, debate, discussion and dialogue from all corners, via every available medium. One person in particular mentioned that she wrote in to the Forum section of the Straits Times, and I was told it was a typical "Why are the things and people in Singapore so incompetant" spiel.
This person, criticizing the search, later went on to find something she was not supposed to find (yet).
Big news.
Big drama. Tears and tissues, grief and guile, laments and lies greeted us as we stepped into class yesterday amid the throng of curiously displaced students; half-heard whispers about a phone call and a petition bouncing about like a hyperactive Disney character.
It's hard to face someone when the tears are flowing.
But it's alot fucking easier when you just sat/stood through several minutes of them spouting their own deluded inventions of deceit and slander and betrayal and hurt. Why yes, it did put a rather ugly-looking dent in their CV, but calling us hypocrites when you remain guilty of the very same accusation, compounding it with every breath you take, is beyond unjust.
So there.
The incident also highlighted a few things that some of us may have been oblivious to.
It is said that in traumatic or stressful events, the true colours of those around you shine through. Let's just say that we found a few among us whose colours weren't that admirable. Self-preservation is one thing, but trying to weasel your way out of an issue one clearly has to take responsibility for is just pathetic.
Well, at least I'm mid-way through my mid-terms, eh? Yay?
Big news, big drama. Far from over, in either case, I feel.
By now, almost everyone reading would have been intimately familiar with the visage and name of a certain short Indonesian (not you, Kania) who walks with a limp. I personally only found out about it rather late, compared to most others. It was in school when someone rushed up to me and stammered "Naz did you hear about the terrorist? Oh my gawd!" and all I could do was to stare blankly and not appear irritated with my unmanageable hair.
Since then, I (like many others) have received curious "Wanted" messages (presumably) from the police amid the constant barrage of news reports on the radio and television, detailing that one Mas Selamat bin Kastari is "still in Singapore" and is "looking for food, money and shelter" despite the best efforts of our boys in blue. And in green.
Now... isn't it a bit, uh... stupid that a guy little bigger than a midget, with a limp, was able to single-handedly escape from a detention centre?
Come on.
Then again, alot of us, myself included, have been through time in the armed forces. Someone said that the guards were probably taking an impromptu canteen break while he was apparently relieving himself. Because, like, you know... it's not like he's going to escape, is he?
Because I'm such a helpful and patriotic guy, I'll even point out where he might actually be!
1. Siglap: The amount of construction sites and abandoned houses there are overwhelming.
2. The National Library: Because who really goes to a library where you aren't allowed to study?
3. A random S-League match: Who's going to see him?
4. Mediacorp Studios: More speicifically, the secret underground bunker where they keep the old tapes of VR Man.
5. Kembangan Plaza: WHo the hell goes there, except for, gasp, Indonesian maids and workers?
So he wanted to hijack a plane and crash it into the airport. One of our pride and joys. The big question is, however, which terminal? Terminal One is due for a makeover anyway... and Terminal Three seems to have been built wrong; it's more a shopping centre or a mall than an airport.
Of course, everyone has their own opinions and views on the incident, and how the search is going. There has been gossip, debate, discussion and dialogue from all corners, via every available medium. One person in particular mentioned that she wrote in to the Forum section of the Straits Times, and I was told it was a typical "Why are the things and people in Singapore so incompetant" spiel.
This person, criticizing the search, later went on to find something she was not supposed to find (yet).
Big news.
Big drama. Tears and tissues, grief and guile, laments and lies greeted us as we stepped into class yesterday amid the throng of curiously displaced students; half-heard whispers about a phone call and a petition bouncing about like a hyperactive Disney character.
It's hard to face someone when the tears are flowing.
But it's alot fucking easier when you just sat/stood through several minutes of them spouting their own deluded inventions of deceit and slander and betrayal and hurt. Why yes, it did put a rather ugly-looking dent in their CV, but calling us hypocrites when you remain guilty of the very same accusation, compounding it with every breath you take, is beyond unjust.
So there.
The incident also highlighted a few things that some of us may have been oblivious to.
It is said that in traumatic or stressful events, the true colours of those around you shine through. Let's just say that we found a few among us whose colours weren't that admirable. Self-preservation is one thing, but trying to weasel your way out of an issue one clearly has to take responsibility for is just pathetic.
Well, at least I'm mid-way through my mid-terms, eh? Yay?
Big news, big drama. Far from over, in either case, I feel.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
IDSPISPOPD
Google the title and you might figure out why I chose it. It's kinda less obvious than bamf.
Anyway, I just got done watching Jumper, and the first thing that hit me was "Shit. It's Vader vs Mace. Holy crap!" And really, it doesn't disappoint in that aspect. Lets see what I think.
Firstly, I'll admit that after watching the trailers for the film, I was caught in two minds. Firstly, I loved Nightcrawler in X-Men 2, and am generally tolerant of Sci-Fi action flicks of most sorts. However, after the debacle that was AVP:R (which I'm not even going to bother reviewing), my faith in the genre has sunk to new depths. I'm a huge fan of things like Terminator, Alien, Predator, Robocop, Minority Report, Jurassic Park and I, Robot, but then there are such painful memories as, well, AVP and it's bastard child of a sequel.
The movie opens up with young David (who I'm tempted to call Anakin) narrating to us, the fortunate audience, how he discovered his "ability". Of course, not the most original introduction to a story about people with super powers, but it works. And at the same time, you're introduced to his lady friend, Summer from the OC. Incidentally, I was dead sure her name was Rachel Wilson, and I immediately thought of Rainn Wilson, or Dwight from The Office.
It's Rachel Bilson.
But back to Jumper. As most American movies do, it centres around a love story that is intricately tied to the larger-than-life plot. Like Peter Parker agonising over telling Mary Jane, or Bruce Wayne hiding behind a mask and revealing himself by kissing some blonde, or Clark Kent shuffling his glasses uneasily around Lois Lane, David tries to hide his "talent" from Millie (Summer/Rachel), something most of us would have expected.
What I didn't expect, however, was the way most of the "jump" sequences were actually quite enjoyable. The fight scenes in particular, while paling in comparison to the latter half of Nightcrawler's assault on the White House, were original enough, I thought. Fans of DotA would be thinking "BLINKSTRIKE" here and there, and I haven't even begun talking about teleporting cars.
A big part of the movie revolves around the on-going war, which has "been going on for years", between the Jumpers and the Paladins. This is where the "Vader vs Mace" thing comes in, as Samuel L. Jackson resumes his role as the hard line, no nonsense black cop-person. Sort of like Shaft. There's also the issue of "how the hell do you realistically fight against people who can teleport, at will?", and that's dealt with too, at least to my satisfaction.
Then, the movie kinda ends on a lame note.
Because Vader is in it, there's the obligatory "parent" save. I guess it's a legacy that dates back to Luke being burnt by lightning (and also repeated in Awake), a move which kind of fell into line with the "I am your mother" "twist" in The Golden Compass. I didn't like it.
Still, I disagree with the generally poor reviews that Jumper has gotten. It's by no means an awesome movie, but it's still watchable, at the very least. It deserves more than a 3.5 out of 5, but I rarely give out 4's, but maybe this comes close.
Anyway, I just got done watching Jumper, and the first thing that hit me was "Shit. It's Vader vs Mace. Holy crap!" And really, it doesn't disappoint in that aspect. Lets see what I think.
Firstly, I'll admit that after watching the trailers for the film, I was caught in two minds. Firstly, I loved Nightcrawler in X-Men 2, and am generally tolerant of Sci-Fi action flicks of most sorts. However, after the debacle that was AVP:R (which I'm not even going to bother reviewing), my faith in the genre has sunk to new depths. I'm a huge fan of things like Terminator, Alien, Predator, Robocop, Minority Report, Jurassic Park and I, Robot, but then there are such painful memories as, well, AVP and it's bastard child of a sequel.
The movie opens up with young David (who I'm tempted to call Anakin) narrating to us, the fortunate audience, how he discovered his "ability". Of course, not the most original introduction to a story about people with super powers, but it works. And at the same time, you're introduced to his lady friend, Summer from the OC. Incidentally, I was dead sure her name was Rachel Wilson, and I immediately thought of Rainn Wilson, or Dwight from The Office.
It's Rachel Bilson.
But back to Jumper. As most American movies do, it centres around a love story that is intricately tied to the larger-than-life plot. Like Peter Parker agonising over telling Mary Jane, or Bruce Wayne hiding behind a mask and revealing himself by kissing some blonde, or Clark Kent shuffling his glasses uneasily around Lois Lane, David tries to hide his "talent" from Millie (Summer/Rachel), something most of us would have expected.
What I didn't expect, however, was the way most of the "jump" sequences were actually quite enjoyable. The fight scenes in particular, while paling in comparison to the latter half of Nightcrawler's assault on the White House, were original enough, I thought. Fans of DotA would be thinking "BLINKSTRIKE" here and there, and I haven't even begun talking about teleporting cars.
A big part of the movie revolves around the on-going war, which has "been going on for years", between the Jumpers and the Paladins. This is where the "Vader vs Mace" thing comes in, as Samuel L. Jackson resumes his role as the hard line, no nonsense black cop-person. Sort of like Shaft. There's also the issue of "how the hell do you realistically fight against people who can teleport, at will?", and that's dealt with too, at least to my satisfaction.
Then, the movie kinda ends on a lame note.
Because Vader is in it, there's the obligatory "parent" save. I guess it's a legacy that dates back to Luke being burnt by lightning (and also repeated in Awake), a move which kind of fell into line with the "I am your mother" "twist" in The Golden Compass. I didn't like it.
Still, I disagree with the generally poor reviews that Jumper has gotten. It's by no means an awesome movie, but it's still watchable, at the very least. It deserves more than a 3.5 out of 5, but I rarely give out 4's, but maybe this comes close.
Comic Relief #101
Yes, I got another idiotic call from MINDEF today telling me about another Alert Amber. Like, WTF. Starting on my birthday too.
WTF.
This is the kind of uncalled-for shit that has led to me seriously considering why the hell I'm still here in this "clean, green, safe and secure island haven" which is, in reality, nothing more than a place where zombies work and study their asses off just so they can pay for inflated transport fees and cups of coffee.
WTF.
WTF.
This is the kind of uncalled-for shit that has led to me seriously considering why the hell I'm still here in this "clean, green, safe and secure island haven" which is, in reality, nothing more than a place where zombies work and study their asses off just so they can pay for inflated transport fees and cups of coffee.
WTF.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Comic Relief #100
I guess the 100th Comic Relief wouldn't be complete without a mention of cats and Jessica Alba. Trust Kania and Jonno to be so considerate as to supply me with the neccessary means to commemorate the occasion with a couple of my favourite things.
Someone tried to sketch a heart on my knee today, with one of those felt-tipped pen/marker hybrids. You know, the kind that has a "fine" and "medium" end and comes in all sorts of fascinating colours like pink and lime green and dirt brown. This was purple.
Typical of the way things have been going, the heart ended up looking like a headless, legless, proboscis-less butterfly, something I helpfully pointed out as Kerri put in the finishing touches of the rather sad-looking masterpiece.
Of course, she added antennae and a few squiggles that vaguely resembled legs (though if they were, it would have been one hell of a lame insect in every sense of the word).
Still, it got me thinking.
Do affairs of the heart really work out the way we all hope they will? The way we are told they will? The way two people fall for each other, totally, truly, honestly, sincerely, eternally as they so often do in books and TV and the silver screen?
Or does it just always end up messy, something other than what you mean and want, leaving you with nothing else but to salvage what you can and turn it into something else entirely?
...And maybe watch it fly off, or fade with time.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
A Lack of Communication
My phone is now officially crazy.
I apologise in advance for any missed calls or unreplied messages.
I apologise in advance for any missed calls or unreplied messages.
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