Sunday, October 9, 2011

Haha. Did I seriously think I could do this? My head's scattered in a million different places at once. Sigh. I want to write. I haven't in so long.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Killer Elite

Killer Elite was a very nice movie. Not exactly mind-blowing, but, well, I really really liked it. I decided to go watch it because it's been really long since I watched a good old assassin-based movie, and because, it's a Jason Statham-Robert de Niro movie, and, all right, maybe even Clive Owen factored in a little.

I am a Jason Statham fan and always, always will be. No Jason Statham movie can ever, ever go wrong. From The Italian Job to In The Name of the King to The Transporter to The Expendables, I love him so, so much. GAHH I LOVE JASON STATHAM. He is a BAMF, and a BAMF with a British accent, at that.

And there was Robert de Niro (click on the link if you want your life changed), too, that really old famous actor whom I had no idea existed, but fell in love with in Stardust - (an all time favourite movie, puh-lease). Needless to say, his acting was impeccable, but I never expected him to be so adorable. He actually made managed to make me cry a little (shaddap, I know it's not exactly difficult, but I never expected to).

Third famous name, Clive Owen, whom I know from Shoot 'Em Up and King Arthur. He portrayed the sort of character I always thought he would play best - the annoying, get-under-your-skin one. How can anyone look at that face - and that moustache - without wanting to punch it?

And there was a likeable, very real female character in it, too, one who doesn't have to have her hand held and shushed when screaming. (Unlike the trailer for the movie Abduction.) Oh, apparently she's the girl from Chuck. No, I don't watch Chuck. Come at me bro. No wonder she's so pretty. Plus point!

The storyline was inspired by the non-fiction book The Feather Men, and I wouldn't be surprised if this movie was banned in the UK, but I don't get why it's branded 18+. I mean, only like a dozen people died in it, tops, and not in very gruesome ways. Wait. Maybe more, if you count the unimportant cronies.

We were the first ones in the cinema, which was pretty cool for a while, until one middle-aged man came and sat in front of us. And then another middle-aged man came in. And then another. To our slight relief (we were beginning to think we were the targets of an assassination plot), some other younger guys came in as the advertisements started. Juicy tidbit about me: I love watching cinema ads and trailers. But all in all we were the only girls in the movie hall. Which was pretty funny, because every time Jason Statham punched someone in the balls (he did that pretty often), all the guys around us would go "Ooowwww", one headbanger behind us even going, "Woii, dei" at one point. Li Sar and I were... not quite as affected, I suppose, not being in the position to empathised with the unfortunate victims.

Girls, y u no go watch Killer Elite?!


Here have a picture.

LOL. I can upload that here from my extremely under-utilised camera phone now I never knew gosh I am so cool sometimes

Lately I've been having a lot of thoughts. Sometimes my head is like a whirlwind full of them, and sometimes there are just one or two thoughts that stay in my mind and don't go away. I think I've been wondering what my life would be like if it were a movie, or a book, or a song. And I've been feeling that it wouldn't be a very good one. Silly thoughts to have, I know, and not very original ones. But oh well. I'll save my deep-rooted confession of how I hate that I'm not good at anything at all for later.

"It's the deep breath before the plunge."


I've finally got the chance to just talk a lot with the girls lately, and it's really nice - it seems forever since we really just talked about all that nonsense that's in our head. Like the other day during our first forage into prom dress shopping with Nicole and Chalystha, or Monday, when the five of us spent the whole day in school whiling away free periods like we always used to, or yesterday when three of us were conquering the tree trunks in the tapak perhimpunan (I'm glad I got to do that before I left school; it was something I always wanted to do, and the weather was so lovely and I felt like a hipster) - amidst stares from the Sixth Formers. We're going shopping again this Friday and I am very much looking forward to it - I honestly cannot recall the last time the five of us got to go out all together.

Yesterday it struck me and Li Sar that it had also been a long time since we went out on a "date", and so that's what we did today. It was supposed to be lunch, a movie, yumcha and shopping. First thing I did when we got there was buy popcorn. (It's been that long since I've been to the cinema.) We watched Killer Elite, my choice. It was a really nice movie. I was going to post my thoughts on the movie here, but changed my mind, seeing as I am already dying from embarrassment everytime I look at my feedjit and see people arriving at certain posts I made when I was in the most critical fangirl mode - either on Romeo & Juliet, PotC, or *cringe* grey-eyed princes. I don't need someone to search "Killer Elite" and end up reading about my life instead. So I'm going to make a separate, albeit shorter, post on the movie. Lol.

Oh well, but our date was cut short after lunch when Sar had to unexpectedly rush off home. And then I was left stranded in TCM by myself. #foreveralone. After deciding there were no dresses there worth looking at, I texted Xin You, who lives like two seconds away from TCM, to see what he was doing, and he turned out to be in some Indian shop nearby with his watermelon friends. And then miraculously, some time later, Xin You, Calvin and Tzen Ren "bumped" into me in Borders. :) #notforeveraloneafterall. Haha, they are so cute. Even Calvin, who either really really hates me, or just doesn't generally maintain eye contact with humans. It was like when they so chivalrously decided to walk me home after school that one time even though it wasn't anywhere near on the way to wherever they were going. 5A boys. Gotta love 'em.

The Three Musketeers with Gannie-boy tomorrow. Gonna see Legolas and Mr. Darcy act as something other than an elf and a romantic legend! I wonder if it'll be good. I'm going to go and watch the 1993 version tonight and try to read the Alexander Dumas novel tonight, just to be prepared.

I need to read more classics. I'd take a tonload of them over slaving over addmaths any day.

Saturday, October 1, 2011


I love Borders. A lot. I actually call it my "favouritest place in the world". Which isn't strictly true, but you know. I don't know if it's truly Borders I love, or just, well, the books. I suppose if I were overseas in places where there are other bookstores, I guess I wouldn't really care about Borders. But here, it's Borders I really love. In fact, I am pretty addicted to Borders, probably more so than the average bookworm. Here is how I came to this conclusion, no exaggeration, I swear:
  • The air in Borders sends me on a high.
  • I will go inside a Borders outlet just to stand and sniff the air inside it.
  • I will do anything to smell the air in Borders.
  • When in a mall, I lie and say I need the loo but in actuality I dash to Borders to sniff the air.
  • Thanks to my internal Borders GPS, I can get to a Borders with my eyes closed.
  • I can run from one end of any mall to Borders in heels in record time. Proven.
  • Sometimes when I haven't been to Borders in really long, I mutter "boh-duhs" repeatedly under my breath and pretend I'm breathing the air there.
  • When given a choice of mall to visit, I will choose MidV or The Curve, because they have big Borders outlets there.
  • I will purposely ask my family to take me out with the made-up excuse of spending some quality family shopping time, just so I can spend the day alone at Borders.
  • I will pretend I'm looking for a shop that doesn't exist which happens to be near Borders.
  • I will plead out from any shopping party as soon as I can so that I may go to my beloved Borders.
  • I study in Bangsar Coffee Bean because it's in the same building as Borders.
  • I study in Bangsar Starbucks because it is in view of Borders.
  • Once I was supposed to go on a desperate shopping trip alone the weekend before Christmas but when I was dropped off in midv I spent the whole time in Borders.
  • There is no joy like seeing the big logo of BORDERS from the distance.
  • It causes me physical pain to be in the same building as a Borders and not at least walk past it.
  • It is difficult for me to walk past a Borders without entering it.
  • I can spend hours just sitting on the floor of Borders, even without reading a book.
  • I love the black armchairs of Borders.
  • Borders is the only place I can finish books in single sittings.
  • I consider it an indignity to ask the Borders help desk for directions.
  • I think I know the Borders shelving system better than most staff there.
  • I like the way Borders display their recommended books.
  • I'm running out of reasons.

Thursday, September 29, 2011


Trials have officially ended today.

There's nothing particularly special about how I went through trials; I experienced symptoms none too extraordinary - severe lack of sleep, general lack of appetite, unhealthy dependence on coffee, deprivation of favourite things to do, and the occasional breakdowns, neurological or emotional.

The only thing I seem to have contrived that others haven't, however, is a shocking deterioration language-wise, and coupled with some lack of coherence thought-wise, this is going to make for a very unreadable post, but I've wanted to write this for really long. For say what you like, trials were really tough for me, but I got through it, and not by myself.

I love everyone. Like my mum and dad. They took a lot snipes and snaps and outright refusals of food from me that they'd never have taken otherwise. And they supplied me with coffee. (Words cannot express how much that means to me.) And ice cream. And my mum stayed up with me to study most nights. I don't know how they did it and my parents rock.

I love the beautiful girls Nicole Low Yen Yi and Chalystha Lee Yie Qin. Whatsapping with them every day kept me sane. Although sane might not be the operative word. Think about that. Take one girl studying like mad for trials, multiply that by three, and put it into a group conversation, and you won't find anything that makes sense. You'll get a lot of emoticons, that's for sure. (I am addicted to the whatsapp emoticons. Today I put "television" as my answer in Physics because all I could think about was the cute little TV icon whatsapp has.) The two of them reminded me that I wasn't #foreveralone - we were all in the same [insert emoticon of "boat" here] after all.

Ho Hui Jan. I love her sooooo much. Every single day before my papers she would text me a good luck . And they would make me :DDD like anything. It just means a lot that she would take time to remember me stressing out over trials, and make me feel better. Idk what I ever did to get a friend like her and guys, she is just awesome.

I owe Xin You thanks too for he has kept me off the edge several, several times see he can be pretty rockin' when he's not being annoying. (Kidding.) Not least to the ones who keep me company all the time while I'm studying,  fellow whatsapp buddy Gan and especially Terence. Never forgetting several awesome teachers I am so lucky to have teaching me, oh you know all the schoolteachers besides that one, that one and that one, but also to Pn. Z and Mr. R.

And to continue in my all-the-speeches-at-the-Grammy's-combined fashion, I would like to thank the music that I listen to, my sort of music, all those amazing, amazing artists who are responsible for the permanent misshapening of my ears due to the earphones of my beloved iPod Alethea - music keeps a person on track when everything else seems off. And I would like to thank my coffee, I love you coffee, starbucks, coffee bean, perak coffee, and of course my one and only drug, my thick black thick black thick black beautiful aromatic lovely wonderful indescribable amazing intoxicating thick black Penang coffee. And my energy supplements and other vitamins. Without popping those five pills a day like a pro I would be sick by now lol.

But one thing I'm going to ensure is that this won't be happening for SPM. I will be ready for it, and I won't be having coffee instead of interstitial fluid in my brain, I won't be pulling three to four eyelashes out every time I aim for my contacts due to lack of sleep, I won't be not eating, and I won't be freaking out. I hope. Sigh. I never thought I would be afraid of failing any of my subjects for trials, either (thanks, addmaths), when I was anticipating this before.

I'm giving myself a week of freedom before getting to for the SPM, during which I need to cram in as many things as I can, such as watching all my beloved TV shows, reading a Bordersful of books, study LOTR to the max, rewatch a bunch of romance movies, tumblr, fangirl like a freak, spend quality time with certain beloveds, and go prom dress shopping. Lol at the last.

Oh, but wait. You want to know what the funny thing is? A very tiny part of me didn't want these trials to end. Because this was the last exam we sat as a class. We're not going to sit for SPM like this. As 5A. 5 perAlihan. Yeap, that's us. I'm not going to be able to turn around and know exactly where everyone's seated, in alphabetical order, anymore. We're not going to be able to do all those stupid things we do during papers that we're not supposed to do. No more "SSSSH"'s from Tzen Ren when someone drops a pencil on the ground. No more tossing around of staplers. No more annoying idiots making water droplet sounds during the paper. No more insanely tense class atmosphere whenever we're all cramming together minutes before the exam starts. No more forever starting late because we always start late. This was our last paper. And now trials have ended, and we're not even going to be a proper class anymore. Today we took down our pictographical "duty rooster" and handed the keys over to the PMR brats. Our time together's up.

Trials have officially ended today.








Friday, September 23, 2011

Sick Dream

Warning: This is a shit post

I wonder if after I write this post whether I will change my mind and delete it like I did to the previous one

You wanna know what's freaky I had that previous post up on my blog for all of five minutes and in that five-minute window Hui Jan somehow manages to read it five minutes oh come on

But that freaky is nothing compared to what you're about to read next

I just remembered what I dreamed about last night and I storied it to Cha it was disgusting I am disgusted with my own subconscious know like seriously I feel like horrific right now

Here goes

So I dreamed I was in this warzone place. Like in Iraq or something. It was deserty. Sandstormy. Bomby. I was like part of a unit or something. We were moving through like one sandy tunnel to another in sleeping bags. Yeah in case you didn't get that I was in a warzone.

And that's where I met this demon cat

It looked just like a normal cat. About the same colour as Crookshanks, but it didn't look like a walking carpet bag like Crookshanks does. It was one of the sleek, handsome, pointy-eared cats. Yeah, I said this already, but it looked just like a normal cat.

But it could talk. And boy was it sadistic. It was evil. This cat was evil. It was a demon cat. Purely villainous. And it just kept talking to me. It followed our unit for days. It wanted to kill me more than anything else in the world. Me and my unit. And because it was a demon, it couldn't die. There was no way I was getting rid of it and I would be foolish to try.

But after days of fear and desperation in the warzone, unable to sleep because of the talking cat watching me and talking about my impending doom, I finally reached my breaking point. I seized the cat from under the armpits (you know the way you carry cats) And I took a  knife - a standard Swiss Army Knife - and I stabbed it where I thought its heart would be. But the cat just laughed at me and told me I couldn't get rid of it that easily. And that the minute I let the cat go I would be dead. And so I kept stabbing its white-furred undercarriage trying to find its heart, which was still beating, but to no avail. And the cat kept laughing at me and I knew I had to kill it so I started sawing off its limbs. With a Swiss Army Knife. I started sawing, one by one, paw by paw, and it was such a painfully slow process. I knew everything in detail. Like when you cut through the thin layer of fur and skin and then flesh and then you hit the bone and you have to start sawing and I saw bone marrow and muscle and sinew and ligament and warm blood gushing over my hands and the whole time the cat was still talking so I kept sawing and hacking and sawing until I finally sawed off its head and all I was left with were cat body parts.

And then I left the cat's remains behind.

In a pile.

There was fur and blood all over my hands.

But at least the cat stopped talking.

I am a murderer.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

September the 11th

I'm not here to make a post on the conspiracy theories, or the numbers, or the heartwarming stories, or even make a semblance of a very good post at all. There are plenty of those flying around in the whirlwind of the past week or so, with the whole of the United States counting down to the tenth-year anniversary of the nightmare of 9-11. No, this is just me, an ignorant Malaysian girl, for me, taking time off from trials to remember this.

I was only seven, but ten years ago I can still remember being glued to the old television screen, watching the live broadcast that interrupted almost every channel on TV with my parents. I think we started watching the minute they had footage of the first plane crash or something. Yes, I can remember watching the whole thing, for all four coordinated attacks (so many forget that there were four coordinated attacks). It's not something you'd be likely to forget, as far away and irrelevant as it may have seemed to me that decade ago, and it was the only time in my life I ever saw footage of the 9-11 attacks. I remembered almost every thought that went through my head, too, and I'd like to take some time to record down here some of those things I think I should always remember.

Firstly, of course, the victims in the World Trade Centre. So many people, just trying to live through a gruelling day of work, that didn't live through it, and not because of the piling amount of paperwork or their sniping bosses. The ones who died instantly, and the ones who didn't, some of the latter choosing to end their lives by jumping off goodness knows how many stories instead. I think watching that - those people, jumping off to their deaths to avoid another death - was what chilled me the most when I was seven. I asked my mother why they would do such a thing, and my mother told me it was because they had no way out either way. I kept on thinking how bad it must have been for them to have done that. And I distinctly remember wondering, how would I have chosen if I were in their shoes? It was horrible, really, the whole picture of it. The ashes, of course. But another thing I remember was the papers. Papers, papers, so many, flying everywhere, in the air, on the ground, just everywhere. I also found it slightly worse somehow that the buildings didn't collapse straight away - I don't know how, but it just feels worse.

The passengers in the two planes that hit WTC. I'd wondered whether they knew if they were flying to their death. I think the fact was that they didn't. But they knew that they'd been hijacked, and I'm sure some of them must have seen their aircraft flying towards the city and those two buildings. It's no wonder it so deeply rooted a phobia of flying in so many people in the aftermath. Because all these people wanted to do was fly home, or to a family holiday, or finish a business trip, and in the end they get hijacked by terrorists and used as a tool to kill some thousands of other people.

The emergency responders who lost their lives in the rescue attempts. Oh my God, my heart goes out to these true heroes who went in and tried to save lives and had to give up their own in the process. Taken from Wikipedia: The New York City Fire Department lost 341 firefighters and 2 paramedics. NYPD lost 23 officers. Port Authority Police Department, 37. Eight EMTs and paramedics from private hospitals were also killed. Because they went in. I don't know how they did it, but they went in. It was insane of them, but they did it anyway, to try for the long shot, to - I don't know. I'm at a loss of words to describe what these people did - woke up to a nightmare in their very own city and walked straight into it. They made a tribute film some years ago, World Trade Center, I think, and I went to the cinema and watched it and I cried throughout the whole thing.

I don't know much about the Pentagon attack, for some reason, but just because the death toll wasn't as high, it doesn't mean it was any less sickening than the deaths of those in WTC, of course. But what really touched me was the passengers of flight 93. "The Flight That Fought Back". They say this plane was meant for the White House, I think, but it never made it there. The hijacked passengers, after receiving calls from family members about the other hijacked planes and where they ended up, decided to revolt. They all stood up and revolted, and clearly would have won, too, because the hijackers gave up their mission as a lost cause and crashed the plane in a field. The passengers doing that, caused them their lives, yes, but saved what could have been a potential of so many others, and nothing can be said about the bravery of what they did.

And the families. The families who woke up to hear that planes - planes were crashing into WTC, and the very next thought that flashes through their mind is that my wife, my brother, my sister, my loved one, he or she works there. Do you know how many remains of the victims were never found, not at all? The families of the passengers, those who were called by the victims on the flight, to say their last, tearful goodbyes, and those who never got to even hear their voices. The families of those emergency responders who must have been so, so angry at them for going into a deathtrap, no matter how proud they felt. The scars of these families are what is still being felt today.

I need to go now, but I'm happy with what I wrote here, because I don't pretend to know much about anything, but I've gotten it all out, and so there. There's not much you can say to wrap up such a sad post, so I'm not going to try. Thank you for reading.

Monday, August 29, 2011

My Dreams Are Weird

Okay so I have this amazing ability to have like really long dreams and wake up in the middle of them and then decide I really like the dream and go back to sleep to continue right where I left off. Also when I dream like that it's usually two or three dreams sometimes unrelated that I dream back to back because my mind is in epic dream mode. And I usually refuse to wake up and sleep for like twelve hours straight because my dreams are so awesome.

Unfortunately I can only remember bits and pieces, but here you go.

So in the first dream of my dreams last night, I redreamed an alternate-universe version of the last Harry Potter. I swear if it had been made into a real movie the ratings would've topped Inception let me tell you that. It was like mind-blowing, I swear. The movie was set in India, in a part slum, part ancient ruin part of India. It was amazing.  The story line started out following Harry, Ron and Hermione who were on the run from Death Eaters. They kept on hiding out in various Indian slumhouses and being helped by various Indian people-who-lived-in-slumhouses. Then they met McGonagall and kept running from the slumhouses that kept on getting blown up. The whole time they were counting on Snape to bail them out, because they already knew about Snape being a quadruple agent and his past with Lily but he didn't die (see my version is so much better). And there was one extremely pivotal part when Harry & Co. were being jinxed at and they were waiting for the stone doors of this ancient open-air ruin to open so they could like get in and not be jinxed at and they were waiting and waiting for the doors to open so desperately like, God where is Snape, and then suddenly the ancient stone doors swing open, and the jinxing stops, and Harry looks at Snape standing dramatically in the way, waiting for them to run in and take cover, and for one fleeting moment Harry looks into those cold black eyes and has a wavering doubt. Could he really trust Snape, he wonders. But then there's a beat and a flashback sequence ensues, and from the still bat-like figure of the standing Snape a silvery, Patronussy Snape figure steps out. And the flashback sequence takes place so that only Harry can see it while in reality time has frozen, and he with tears in his eyes watches a most beautiful series of scenes outlining the pure and sweet yet tragic love that Severus Snape has always had for Lily Evans. Yes, there was also a silvery Patronussy figure of Lily in this awesome flashback sequence. And then there's a huge explosion behind Harry, bringing him back to the present, and Hermione screams his name, forcing him to make a decision, and this time Harry's sure: he surges forward through the gateway, and Snape joins them as they all scramble to push back the stone doors against the Death Eaters and for the moment, they're safe.

That's all I can remember really of the Harry Potter dream. The dream then changes to uh someone (don't ask who) using my MyKad for something which is bad because bad guys are after me and that's like unfortunate because well bad guys want to kill me and then it changes back to me being stuck at this castle-like school where we are all dragon riders and I'm very special like a chosen one or something and people still want to kill me and my family the villain is this evil woman with red hair and a green high-collared dress btw the dragon I ride (my very own dragon, very huge!) is pale jade green in colour. And there was this awesome guy who helps me when I'm like trying not to be killed haha his dragon was blue.

This is almost as bad as the other day when I dreamed I was a detective investigating how people keep getting kidnapped/murdered whenever they leave this departmental store. So I'm checking out the departmental store when I realise that it's because the kidnappers/murderers are leaving messages inside the envelopes of greeting cards for sale and that's how they lure the victims. As I make this important discovery my fictional best friend is with me and she's getting all snappy I see that it's because she was behind it all along. She pushes me to the floor and rushes out of the departmental store and my head is bleeding and my fictional boyfriend helps me up but I realise that he was in on it with my best friend all along but he says he's sorry. And then I make my way home to an orphanage on top of the hill with my bleeding head where I meet all my church friends and then we have to cover up the blinds because duh people want to kill me now. And then the orphanage is having a walk around town and I have to go but I can't on account of my bleeding head so I get this enormous flying gorilla to take me on his back instead.

You see guise, this is how my subconscious works. It's not a very sensible place up here, I'm afraid. I'm sure people have weird dreams too but I'm also equally sure not many of them have dreams as weird as mine. And these are only the ones I can remember. So give me the benefit of the doubt when I say I think I have dreams weirder than is generally considered weird.

Saturday, August 27, 2011


by jacietanchenghwee

Take that golden sunshine
And collect it with your finger
Drip it off your fingertip
It'll be just like golden butter

Take that sunshine, spread it far
Spread it yonder 'cross the earth
Because with that sunshine there'll be stars
And smiles and laughter will be birthed

Don't forget to remember me
When you're giving out sunshine free
Don't forget to remember me
In your sunshine-spreading spree

I'll love you, yes, I will, I will
If only you and sunshine come,
I swear my heart will be yours to still,
If you gave me sunshine, oh just give me some.

haha omg what even I don't make sense sometimes you know that?

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Guise, I'm not eating. If you know my appetite, you'll know how bizarre this is, because it's not even exam period. I don't know why. Everytime I see food I feel like throwing up. Is it because my mind is all calm and unstressed so my body needs to make up for it by being depressed instead? If so, then dear body, please cheer up, because you've successfully sobered up the mind, seeing as how undernourishment does that to someone.

Sigh. Going to go drink coffee now.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Hi guise. Sorry I never really have time to blog, as much as I do want to. Blogging is pretty tiring work. I started on a post on Kellie's Castle yesterday, but then I realised I was rambling, which is not good. So then I decided to put in pictures to offset the rambling, but then I realised it was taking up too much time. And now I have no time at all to even ramble. Haha.

I really enjoyed myself, though, yesterday. It was a great trip with the parents, I got to drive for over an hour on the North-South Highway, and I fell head over heels in love with the shambled old stone castle. You would, too, if you had an appreciation for British colonisation-era architecture and an imagination. Everyone should go to Kellie's Castle.

Do go check out the pictures I took of the lovely place - there are pictures of the place, yes, even if I happen to be in them! - just in case I never get down to writing the post. ):

Friday, July 8, 2011

One Day by David Nicholls

So I was in Borders TCM and a book called to me again. I read the first chapter there and went home and downloaded it onto my Kindle. Bless my Kindle.

One Day is a very unique novel because each chapter tells the story of only one day of a year. Basically, the novel visits the lives of Emma and Dexter every 15 July starting on the year they first met, 1988, and spans twenty years. They are sometimes together, sometimes not, in each chapter.

It's a life story, not really a love story, and that's the greatest part about this book. Em and Dex, Dex and Em, they're best friends, which is pretty hard to believe, because they're so incredibly different. When they spend graduation night together in 1988, Emma's got double first-class honours and dreams of changing the world, and Dexter's a wealthy charmer who want to smoke as many cigarettes and dance in as many bars as he can.

As we follow their life stories, we see these two evolve from university graduates to young working people, from young working people to family people, and these transitions are not the typical story-bookish kinds - Nicholls isn't one to shy away from the darker side of life, the harshness of reality, the bitterness of disillusionment. Unemployment, unglamourous jobs, peer pressure, loss of friendship, loss of family, the ending of dreams, and broken love - it's all there. It's a bit painful, really, not usually my sort of book, especially towards the second half and ending, but I like it all the same - partially because I feel like I can relate a lot to Emma, and wholly because the murky adult life is still a bit of a mystery to me.

Also, this book is very British, which adds a few couple thousand plus points to it. Thanks to this book, I now want to go to Scotland not only to fulfill my lifelong dream of getting married in a castle (clearly this book hasn't been that much of a wake-up call for me), but also to visit Arthur's Seat. Fifteenth July is known as St. Swithin's Day, by the way - I didn't know that! Another couple thousand bonus points to the book for highlighting this poem.

St Swithun's day if thou dost rain
For forty days it will remain
St Swithun's day if thou be fair
For forty days 'twill rain nae mare

Now as you can see, I've put the movie cover of the book up as a picture because this is one of those rare instances where the movie cover is much better than the original cover of the book. Yes, it's be made into a movie; it should be out August, and I can't wait, although it probably won't even reach Malaysian shores. I've seen the trailer (which I recommend you not to watch if you dislike spoilers.)

It stars Anne Hathaway (I love Anne Hathaway!) but I'm feeling a bit apprehensive. I think she's a bit too pretty to be Emma Morley. Also, I've heard Anne's British accent in Becoming Jane, which was borderline atrocious. Emma's supposed to be Scottish! I agree with some of the people online who think Carrey Mulligan would've been a better choice. Or maybe not, because remember Emma is a character who ages twenty years throughout the movie, and that's not easy to carry off. Jim Sturgess (whoever he is) seems a bit too soft to be Dexter, as well, but that's only what I can tell from the trailer. Still, I do have high expectations for this movie!

Read the book, if only once through, and hurry - do it before the movie comes out.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

I'm Sorry

It's funny how one minute I can be like talking and laughing and the next just crying. I think it's a bit like forgetting, and then at the slightest trigger, the cover's blown and you remember that you're miserable again. But I never used to be able to turn on the waterworks quite so easily. (Books and movies not included.) It makes me hate myself, a little. And if I hate myself, how can the people around me not hate me, too?

I hate myself for not even having a legitimate reason to be an idiot.So what if things are a bit stressful at home. At least I have a home, right? No, that's not the real reason. If I looked very carefully at the patterns  I've formed, I'd know exactly why I'm being so retarded. But I can't say it out loud. Because it's churlish, ridiculous, and just plain stupid, and maybe if I don't say it it will go away, as if it were never there in the first place, and then I will be stuck with being difficult for no apparent reason.

I feel like I'm a walking time bomb, a stress trigger about to blow, which is immensely self-centred than me, because there are millions of people going through much worse than I am, because I'm not going through anything at all.

So I'm not the easiest person to be around right now. If you haven't noticed it, then thank you, because that means I'm doing a good job. But what a stupid thing to thank someone for. There are several someone's I would like to thank for really good reasons.

Thank you, for ignoring my ill-founded fits of lack of self control, and dealing with me when I'm like that. Thank you, for being sincerely oblivious to them, and having your normal cheerful days so they always bleed into mine. Thank you, for always catching me when I'm about to walk out the door. Thank you, for bothering to speak to me to try and get me off the literal floor. Thank you, for putting up with the snarkiness you would never have normally put up with.

You may know which you you are, or you might not even be reading this blog, but thank you anyway, and I'm sorry.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

The Silmarillion

This is why the copy of The Silmarillion my neighbour lent me maybe two years ago roughly looks like.  It was published in 1979, so its pages are completely yellow, with extremely tiny font, and every time you turn a page there is a one in two chance that you'll tear the edge a little. At the time, what happened was I got past the first chapter, nearly died, skipped ahead to the eagerly-awaited chapter Of Beren and Luthien, didn't understand a word, went to the last chapter, which I finally grasped, then gave it up as a lost cause. But I never gave it back to my neighbour (eheheh) because although back then I succumbed to weakness and gave up, I knew that one day I was going to master The Silmarillion once and for all.

Friends. That day has come.

First of all, let me explain. The Silmarillion isn't an easy read - at least, I found it exceedingly difficult, and I've tried my share of classics. It's basically a history of Middle-Earth, wa-ay before the setting of The Lord of the Rings, that was written in bits and pieces by J.R.R. Tolkien and later compiled by his son. It's about twice as hard to read as a sejarah textbook. Alright, for me, reading The Silmarillion is just impossible to do. You have to study it. Half of the names of everything is in Elvish - worse still, each clan of Elves have a different tongue - and you have to know the meanings. Until now I'm still floundering in the complex geography of the book. If you think the geography of Middle Earth is bad, wait 'til you realise that in The Silmarillion, you have to know the geography of the divine realms as well, and how it's connected to the mortal lands. (And the names of these places keep on changing.) There are a lot of confusing names, of both people and places, that sound alike - take for example Fingolfin and Finarfin, brothers who have sons named Fingon and Finrod, and the worst part is, many of the characters have more than one name in more than one language. Almost everyone is interrelated as is expected with early civilisations, and you just completely forget who belongs to whose house and whatnot. The omnipresent Valar, which are something like gods, except they're not, are also always there to divinely confuse you. In fact I think the Valar was the most complicated part of all.There is no story, just tales and tales that go on and on, and that's why I like to say that The Silmarillion is like a textbook, except that our textbooks chaptered are far more systematically. They would throw you a fleeting line at the beginning, like, oh, this guy thinks this fair maiden is easy on the eyes, and then two hundred pages later, when the lady marries someone else, you're expected to know that the aforesaid guy is furious at heart because he liked that girl before, and of course you don't even remember that singular sentence. The book covers a very long span of years, with a very big number of battles, which means that the book covers a lot of lives and a lot of deaths. Basically, once you get introduced to a character, more than half of the time as soon as you get to know them they die, in numerously painful and imaginative ways. If it weren't for the helpful family trees and index at the back, I never would've gotten through this book.

But I loved it. I feel very "learned in lore", and I'm over the moon. I got through every single word, no shortcuts, right up to the index, and this has been a tremendous accomplishment for me. Any Tolkien fan would love this book, although not every Lord of the Rings fan would. It's pretty much unconnected to LOTR, with few character crossovers, only Elrond, Galadriel, Sauron and minimal Aragorn. Alright, I'll be honest. I wanted to read this book just for Beren and Luthien, the ancient tale which was mirrored by the fate of Aragorn and Arwen. Why I didn't just read that one chapter I'll never know, but I'm glad that's not what I did. The Silmarillion was an amazingly rich, brocaded tapestry of history and mythology, a hundred per cent fictional, insanely detailed, and inspiringly original. It was beautiful and heroic, tragic and powerful, fully worked out high fantasy legend, all out of Tolkien's impossible head, and as if I needed any further convincing, it truly proves that John Ronald Reuel Tolkien was one of the greatest writers that ever lived.

Alrighty. Now that's done and over with, I'm going to go re-read The Lord of the Rings.

Monday, June 20, 2011


Today in school I felt like how I did when I stayed up til 4.30a.m. to watch the FIFA games.

Which is funny, because all I did was watch eight hours straight of the Lord of the Rings before going to bed at one in the morning.

Note to self: When embarking on a LOTR marathon weekend, make sure you spread it out over the weekend instead of cramming two movies into the latter part of the last day.

I always thought that the extended versions of LOTR were like three hours per movie. It turns out I was far off the mark.

Time flies when you're watching LOTR.

It's nice to know, that even after all this time, I can still say some of the lines before they're delivered.

It's nice to know that LOTR can still cure anything.


Headache today was worth it. I'm the happiest girl alive.

Monday, June 13, 2011

My Sacrament of Confirmation

I've been looking forward to getting confirmed for a really long time. Before this, I'll admit it was for not so very noble reasons, but I think when the year started, something kicked in that made it mean so much more. After dutifully fulfilling my 24-hour social service, my two-day Living the Spirit Seminar, my four-day camp, these three events which successively grew in awesomeness, I was readier than ever. To tell you the truth I lived the week or so after Confirmation Camp in a feverish frenzy just waiting for the big day. And, I hope you know me well enough to realise that as superficial that this post may seem, I had a hold on both my head and heart.

Well, 11 June 2011 finally came and went, and I received my fourth sacrament, the sacrament of Confirmation. :)

This a card from my godparents, which I would love even if it weren't from London, which it is.

With a necklace and a "Remembrance of Confirmation" ribbon. Loove.

My confirmation name is Elizabeth, by the way, which would make me Jacie Elizabeth Tan Cheng Hwee if I cared to put into my IC. Why? Three reasons.

Elizabeth, mother of John of the Baptist
Elizabeth Bennet
Elizabeth II the Queen

Don't laugh, okay. It's a very nice Englishy name and it's most importantly, biblical.

Wearing a nametag sucks even when it isn't confirmation day.

Lol, and this is something I bought myself last Christmas.

My confirmation mass was held on the weekend of Pentecost, too, which I think was really lucky, being it the weekend of the Holy Spirit and all. :)

I've been dreaming about my confirmation dress for years now (lol at me go ahead) and last year my sister Jamie gifted one to me. It was the loveliest, prettiest, sweetest white dress I'd ever seen, exactly what I'd been looking for, and I love her so much for it. 

There was a bit of a rush finding a cardigan for it in the end, but I think it still looked nice.


Also bless Carlo Rino for having 50% off on the rockingest pair of white wedges ever.

My hair was a problem, since I didn't want to go to a saloon but if you've ever tried to style my hair you'll know how difficult it is to do anything with. In the end, with the help of the Lord of the Rings and the worldwideweb, I found out what I wanted. It looked simple, but was made possible only by my mommy. Kudos to her, man. She practiced diligently for ages until we finally got it right (with the help of hairspray, of course. Lots.) And thanks to Chalystha for advising. :)

The mass was *sniffs* beautiful. Celebrated by the archbishop, Fr. Simon Yong and some random third person. Haha sorry I seriously don't know who he is, a friar of some sort. I will ignore the fact that I was sweating like a mad cow because I got a leeedle bit of fan where I was sitting and I was sitting right in front so I couldn't fidget. (Lol this is the seventeen-year-old newly-confirmed talking!)

And now, let me tell you a story. Jacie wants badly to be confirmed by bishop. There is 80% chance those on the left will be confirmed by bishop. Those on the right will be confirmed by priest. Group 1 sits on the left. Jacie is in Group 1. Jacie is happy. Jacie discovers she is among those reading Prayer of the Faithful. These people sit on the right. Jacie has a sad. A very, very big sad.

But in the end I was confirmed by the bishop. ;)

It was a very stone moment for me. Actually, a couple of very long stone moments. It was so stone that looking back I'm a little bit scared at how stoned I was that if I ever wanted to do drugs before I definitely never will now. It's so scary when your mind doesn't know what your body is doing. Everyone was like stalling when we were supposed to go up and I was, well, stoning and I didn't even know that that was the moment or that I'd actually gotten the bishop like I'd wanted and I forgot that I was supposed to reply him (but I did, okay, because if you've been Catholic long enough you just know the responses to these things) but I was just really happy 'cause he said my name really nicely so it was worth wearing that stupid name tag and then I was anointed with the oil and then it was over and I slowly stopped stoning and slowly started feeling happy. I'd been looking forward to this so much it's good that it wasn't anticlimactic or anything but it sure was pretty funny that I didn't know what was going on.

Haha, and of course my Prayer of the Faithful has to be the longest with the most punctuation.

Oh, yeah, and Chalystha and Xin You came. :) Chalystha has with me this long-standing promise that she would attend my confirmation mass, and she did. I was so freakin' happy she came. And with Xin You, of course. I can't believe the two of them sat through a full-blown Catholic mass for me. I've already told them it meant a lot, and I'll never forget it. Haha, and Andrew Chin came as well. To see us all get confirmed. :)

Call me cheesy if you want, but I felt blessed, because it's on that kind of day that you want to be surrounded by people that you love.

Sarah Nunis, one third of my girls in SFX :)

Kristie Chew, the dancer

Jane Wong, my group member

My sponsor

My precious Rachel

Our Richard

Chalystha and Xin You :D

Philip Philip Philip Tay. I don't know why I'm so glad he's my Confirmation CC, but I am. The picture is as blur as he looks. :P

My new godparents - Aunty Immilda and Uncle Anto. Watched me grow up, they did.

Last but not least, my family. I love them so much.

Oh, and the bishop, minus hat which fascinated me throughout mass and before and tongkat.

And now I feel guilty that I don't have group pics so this is half of my batch LOL.

People I didn't get pictures with but wanted to: Stuart Thomas. Herman Ramanado. Andrew Chin. Monica Kok.


So ends one journey, but opens up another, which shows you that faith is a path you walk that really is forever.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

I'm teetering on the edge of indecision.

Confirmation Camp was equal parts awesome and good.

Two completely different things.

Should I attempt to blog about it?

Friday, May 27, 2011

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides

After spending my three-week midterms shutting my eyes whenever they flashed me a trailer, clapping my hands over my ears the instant they played a quote on the radio, and savagely flipping over newspaper ads, I did the only logical thing a Pirates fan would do - I went and watched the fourth installment on the very day my exams ended.

I really, really liked it. More than the previous two movies. I'm so glad I didn't give myself the chance to listen to any of the bad reviews beforehand, because I really enjoyed On Stranger Tides. I find it really sad that so many people didn't like or even hated it, but I suppose I can see why. It's very rare that a franchise starts up a movie after the end of a trilogy, and when that does happen, it's usually strung-out for money and very dry. I've also heard that people have gotten tired of Captain Jack Sparrow.

Gotten tired of Captain Jack Sparrow!


After The Curse of the Black Pearl, the movies have all gotten successively bigger and bigger, and with Pirates 4, they realised that they couldn't make it - well, any bigger. So they brought it back down to focus more on the very essence of the movie, the characters, which, of course, means Captain Jack Sparrow.

Jackie had me in stitches from the beginning to the end, and he was so very Captain Jack Sparrow it's so nice to see he hadn't lost it. Whether it was the fight scenes, the one-liners, the sashaying, his compass, his love for the Pearl, the amazing ways he gets himself out of scrapes, he was so essentially Jack Sparrow that for me, nothing was left wanting in his character, and that of course left me very happy. I was so afraid that Jack would be all moony over his love interest, that Penelope Cruz girl Angelica, but he wasn't, and it was all done very well in total Jack style. Jack Sparrow FTW!

I really like the plot (although it was marginally marred by inconsistencies of Angelica's character) and though people hated it because it was the typical find-the-Fountain-of-Youth tale, one of the reasons I loved it was because of that. It was a legend, and I love legends. It's been done before, but every interpretation is different and since everyone's already doing new things already, I don't see why others shouldn't have a shot and recreating something old. Personally I think if ever anyone needed a sip from the Fountain of Youth it would be Keira Knightley's character, but I agree that Elizabeth and Will's story was already played out and I'm glad they didn't come back.

And then there were mermaids.




Mythical creatures being a pivotal part of PotC, and those mythical creatures being mermaids, interpreted in the only way mermaids should be interpreted, are basically my wildest dreams come true. Every sequence with a mermaid in it was done amazingly well. The mermaids were as deceptively beautiful, hauntingly hideous and insanely deadly (they have fangs!) as mermaids are supposed to be, especially the incomparable First Mermaid Tamara, played exceedingly well by Gemma Ward. I keep saying that I understand how sailors would willingly be pulled overboard to be subsequently killed - I would, to get a kiss from that mermaid. And Astrid  Berges-Frisbey, our dearest Syrena, mermaid with the best accent ever, looks like Arwen from Lord of the Rings. I suppose I don't have to express my joy at that last bit.

Speaking of which, I doubt that any hopeless romantic can watch this movie and go away disappointed, because I sure as hell didn't. :) That's enough said, and I plead the Fifth. I refuse to go on on the grounds that it might incriminate me. I do remember that this is blogger, not tumblr, and shameless fangirl ships is not frowned upon here.

Because there was a little bit more breathing time in this movie, I got to marvel at the very subtle themes of it. Every movie, action or adventure or whatnot, has something in it that can make you think - it's just buried a little bit deeper and takes a little bit longer to unearth. (Even chick flicks, I suppose, although you might kill your brain in the unearthing process, which would henceforth render you unable to think.) The thin line between right and wrong, and the ever-shifting balance of trust and alliances in Jack Sparrow's character, with the double-crossing and hidden agendas, did keep me happily occupied amidst the sword clashing. I found it funny that it seemed that they were all after the same thing, but they weren't, not really.

Bonuses: Barbossa, who will beat Blackbeard out any day, even though Blackbeard is a legend and Barbossa is not. The Black Pearl, considerably shrunk in size, monkey still intact. Wriggle-in-ecstasy-bone-chilling-goosebump-inducing music, by the one and only Hans Zimmer. Seeing pirates on land. Having a missionary on board a pirate ship. The British. The Spanish (hahahha Catholics). The comforting feeling you get when you know pirate ships still work no matter how many holes they have in their sails.

Never a perfect movie, but getting me to say it wasn't good would be like getting a Potter fan to say that about one of their movies.

Who am I kidding I am a freakin' Potter fan too okay gotta go bye.

Friday, April 29, 2011

William & Kate's Royal Wedding

I've always been somewhat a fan of the royal family. Besides that, what hopeless romantic doesn't love a fairytale royal wedding? So I've been a-looking forward to today for the past two weeks, resolving to even skip school to watch it live if need be - ergo it was a relief that the ceremony was to take place at eleven a.m. British time. Due to several complications, I came home from school today with a splitting, skull-pounding headache, which is lingering until now - which meant I couldn't watch all the specials if I wanted to catch some shut eye before the ceremony. I compensated by sleeping with the TV on until 4 p.m., when I got up and was dutifully glued to the screen for the next five hours.

It was a beautiful wedding. Why? Let us enter Jacie Tan Cheng Hwee's ever-hurting, ever-tender cauliflower brain. (Pride & Prejudice & Zombies reference.)

Watching all the guests arrive in all their British splendour (and hats).
Seeing trees in Westminster Abbey.
Seeing the glorious Bentley in which the princes arrived.
All the other cars - Rolls-Royces, Bentleys, Jaguars.
Seeing Prince William in startling army red, with his special blue sash and pilot wings.
Nearly tearing up when Kate walked the aisle.
Pippa's lovely, simple white dress with the awesome neckline!
The fact that Harry was just laughing and smirking the whole day.



William having to face in the opposite direction as Kate walked down the aisle. Harry was the one who was looking at her over his shoulder, and then he gleefully whispering to his brother, (allegedly "Right, here she is now" and "Wait 'til you see her") before having to turn his back as well. To which William probably responded shut up asshole look in front they way I have to


William telling Kate she looked beautiful as she joined him at the altar.
William's voice. (Bald patch or no bald patch, it doesn't matter when you're a prince and you sound like that when you read your wedding vows.)
Kate's voice.
All the seen-but-unheard conversation between William and Kate throughout the day.
The Bishop of London's address.
The ring almost getting stuck.
Today being St. Catherine's Feast Day. (I always thought Friday the 29th was a stupid date for a wedding.)
Kate's arrival at 11.01 (it was the struggle with train in the car that made her late!)
William's getting into the wrong side of the carriage.
Kate's smiles the whole day, and her energetic waves. (She obviously never watched Princess Diaries.)
Kate struggling with her train upon arrival at Buckingham Palace (where was Pippa?!)

I loved Kate's dress. I thought she looked absolutely lovely. It was all very elegant and modern and highlighted her natural beauty. The neckline was so very Kate Middleton and the lace was so pretty, it made up for her very simple dress and train. The veil was the crowning glory - it was draped beautifully and had lovely flyaway edges and was so sheer it was beautiful. Her tiara - which belonged to the Queen Mother (William's great-grandmother) was exquisite. Her earrings were a wedding gift from her parents. And I loved her bouquet. The only complaint I had about the dress was that it disabled her from walking on anyone's arm. All her father and William could do was grip her hand, and even then William was forever stepping on her dress, and, well, he didn't to get to lead his bride out on his arm!

Oooh, and the balcony part. (In case you didn't notice, Harry and Pippa were standing together.) Kate gave a spontaneous "wow" when she saw the crowd. The first kiss was so disappointingly fast. William gave an embarrassed smile and Kate bit her lip - they were so shy! But William listened to the chanting crowd (Kiss again!) and they gave a second, longer kiss. I personally think they should've gone for a hattrick and kissed thrice. Then again, they probably would've gotten into a lot of trouble seeing as you're really only supposed to kiss once.

Photos from tumblr, as usual, click for link.

From the Huffington post

I'd go on here about the royal family, the history of it, the importance of the existence of the monarchy at this time, its future the change Diana brought about, and why she was so loved, but maybe another time. :) Lots of love, from the long-winded, detail-crazy headachy girl, me.