tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88173872024-03-08T05:16:01.589+08:00Twisted TalesmOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.comBlogger464125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-71569912956979452762015-01-01T01:30:00.000+08:002015-02-06T19:22:36.817+08:00Why Do Humans Have Hearts?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Why do humans have hearts?<br />
I sat down and asked God<br />
<br />
If we had no hearts, we would never hurt<br />
Be never bitter, never upset, never sad<br />
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A lost love would amount only to a lost chance<br />
A lost life? Nothing more than a lost number<br />
<br />
Why do humans have hearts?<br />
Why not make us strong and unfeeling?<br />
<br />
Ah, if every care in the world could be unraveled<br />
Like a mathematical equation upon a chalkboard<br />
The passing of time would be only chronology<br />
The tugging of heartstrings, mere biology<br />
<br />
And God whispered to my ear gently so<br />
My child, I gave you a heart because I had one too<br />
And may your heart<br />
Someday find its way back to mine.</div>
</div>
mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-8318882806159152962013-12-03T16:42:00.000+08:002013-12-06T12:28:43.244+08:00Ride Of Our Lives<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
"Wow, it's been more than a week since VBS ended." I remarked casually to Joey while locking the church gate.<br />
<br />
"Daniel, are you okay?" she asked me.<br />
<br />
"Huh? What do you mean?"<br />
<br />
"Why do you keep talking about VBS? Did you take up too many roles till you are now unable to forget them? Last time you were never like this."<br />
<br />
"Oh, no lah." I looked down, slightly flustered. "When people become old, they tend to look back on memories more."<br />
<br />
She laughed and walked off, taking care to avoid puddles on the freshly-rained pavement.<br />
<br />
I laughed to myself too, realising what a silly lie I had told. <br />
<br />
Yes, I was guilty as charged. I was still deeply entrenched in the memory of VBS. The only surprise was her saying that I was never this way previously. I had always thought it was a yearly affair. One only needs to take a look at my blog to see that it is the most consistently-updated event year after year. <br />
<br />
But perhaps Joey was right in a way. This year's VBS might be hardest for me to let go. And for a simple reason: It could be the last VBS of an era.<br />
<br />
Sure enough, this year's VBS was a bittersweet experience akin to graduating from school. Bitter due to the crazy workload I foolishly took on - worship leading, storytelling skit and organising the carnival. But as things slowly came into fruition, they became sweet. Also, it was a joy working closely alongside some of my peers - Zhi Yong, Ju Yuan and Joyce. A reunion of sorts. <br />
<br />
In the weeks of busyness leading up to VBS, we all couldn't wait for it to be over. But as Day 1, 2 and 3 passed smoothly and quickly, a strange melancholy crept up to me on Day 4 - the second last day.<br />
<br />
Exhausted after the worship leading and skit presentation, I recall sitting with Joyce by the stage watching children go about their lessons.<br />
<br />
"You know," I glanced at her. "Something tells me that this is going to be your final VBS."<br />
<br />
She stared at me, probably a little taken aback. It was not common knowledge yet that she was planning to work in Australia next year. "Who knows. But I'll help out if I happen to be around. Just not in songleading."<br />
<br />
We mused about how VBS songleading was really getting tougher the older we got. And indeed, this year's songleading had been especially tough on us both. Due to lack of song leaders, I had to lead two days while she took THREE. Wow. In fact, I had not even planned on being involved in the worship this year. But me and my softie heart, pfft.<br />
<br />
And then I realised: by the time the next VBS rolled around I would already be 30. And most likely married. Many of my peers, like Joyce, might not be around any more or married with new lives to build.<br />
<br />
I'm not even sure if I will still be in this church then.<br />
<br />
Life tends to be like a cassette rewinder, if you're old enough to know what that is. The closer you get to the end, the faster it goes. As I head to the tail end of my twenties, I'm gradually coming to grasp how limited my days are. Gone is the sense of immortality; that time is an inexhaustible resource waiting to pass on and on. <br />
<br />
When you're younger, it's natural to think that things will stay the same forever. But age brings with it the knowledge that nothing lasts forever. Especially the days of serving alongside friends I grew up together with.<br />
<br />
Fittingly, one and a half weeks after VBS we celebrated the farewell of Timothy, another VBS legend. He was also leaving for Australia with his family. The farewell dinner, which consisted of twenty people who were mostly my peers, ended with us seated in a circle sharing farewell wishes to Timothy and how he had impacted each of our lives. <br />
<br />
It was a very surreal experience indeed, as though I had been transported 3-4 years back in time. That was the last time I was part of them, before I consciously decided to turn away. It was a time fraught with bitterness, anger and unhappiness. But this time round, I felt no such hardness. Just happiness. Happiness to have known Timothy and share in a part of his life. Happiness for the many friends of his who were my friends as well. <br />
<br />
It's a strange time in my life now. Adjusting, anticipating, awakening. Best of all, I have no idea where the ride's gonna head next. <br />
<i><br />Colossal Coaster Wor-r-r-rld<br />Facing fear, trusting God<br />Colossal Coaster Wor-r-r-rld<br />Facing fear, trusting God<br />With everything, that we've got</i><br />
<br />
The Sunday 2pm worship practices. The confusing dance steps. The carnival planning. The night we built Candytown in church. The decoration which took weeks to set up and just 15 minutes to destroy. The numerous script revisions. The late night rehearsals due to everyone being late. The hours spent making props.<br />
<br />
Indeed boys and girls, it was the ride of our lives. Just very, very blessed to have been a part of it all. :)<br />
<br />
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<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The only skit from this year's VBS I had the foresight to record. And it is one that I am mighty proud of - a kid-friendly version of the famous Lifehouse Everything skit.<br />For the longest time, we were thinking of a suitable song to replace Everything as the plot was rather different. The whole fact that kids don't exactly 'struggle' with their sins, and that we had to show Jesus' death / resurrection. Then I just decided to try Here I Am To Worship.<br />Over the course of one afternoon in Ochado fitting the music to the scenes, I was amazed how perfectly the lyrics matched - as though the song had been written for this skit. If ever I had experienced a magical moment of epiphany, this would be it.<br />I'm also very proud of how well all the actors performed, especially Joyce. She really cried. Without me asking her to. And Ju Yuan, I hate to say this but... you were born to be evil.</i></span></h4>
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mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-17969677886535990652013-07-02T16:38:00.000+08:002013-07-03T14:41:36.382+08:00I'm Reminded<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Jeremy the two-headed dinosaur.</i></td></tr>
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It's been four weeks since I started teaching Inter class again. The last time I taught in that class (full time) was 2009. <br />
<br />
Inter was the first class I taught when I merrily jumped onto the Sunday School teachers' bandwagon in 2007. At that time, it was the perfect choice for me - the goofy new teacher facing up to young impressionable minds. Back then the class was located at the balcony outside, separated from all the other classes and thus giving us a world of our own that was occasionally interrupted by extreme heat or the odd "TILAM TILAM" guy. Sometimes the lessons went well, sometimes not so, but there were always <a href="http://twisted-tales.blogspot.com/2007/05/perfect-sunday-school-lesson.html"></a><a href="http://twisted-tales.blogspot.com/2007/05/perfect-sunday-school-lesson.html"><b>greater life lessons</b></a> in store.<br />
<br />
As is often the case when one looks back, those were much simpler times. I taught without thinking too much, never forgetting to have fun without being overly worried about meeting set objectives. Sure, there were times things got random and awkward but it was always all good the following week. I was humbled, challenged and pestered like never before but through it all, I loved the idea of us against the rest of the world, huddled and laughing together before they graduated to the cooler Younger Youth class. <br />
<br />
But then I left for 3 and a half years. The first year was a quest to 'rescue' the dying Older Youth class - an ultimately doomed mission fraught with disappointment and discouragement. For the first time, I was confronted with the ugly truth that sometimes, a good lesson alone isn't enough. <br />
<br />
The following year, I took a break for six months before suddenly being a 'substitute' teacher in Inter for another six months. It was fun returning to the class for a while, but I never really got over my identity as a random replacement guy.<br />
<br />
As 2012 dawned, I decided to venture into teaching the Youth class for the first time (surprise, surprise!). And how nice, most of my former students from Inter were in the same class - all grown up. But as the months wore on, I sensed their former enthusiasm replaced with lingering jadedness and skepticism. Gone were the eager babes happy with simple truths; now those who sat before me were disinterested youngsters who knew enough.<br />
<br />
Through the year, I taught some of my best lessons but deep inside the passion was dying out. A teacher's joy stems from seeing his students grow through the lessons. There was none to be found here. I pray that within their minds they were secretly transformed, but on the outside it never showed. <br />
<br />
Slowly, surely, I was losing hope. Why, I wondered? Was it a lack of effort on my part? Or a sign of the times? Or simply the culmination of years of things gone wrong?<br />
<br />
Mid-2013, circumstances arose to lead me back to Inter. At that moment, it was just another assignment for me - the next chapter in my Sunday School teaching journey. Never did I expect rediscovering my first love.<br />
<br />
"Are you done, class?" I checked on their progress in drawing their own cartoon character - an illustration of creation in Genesis.<br />
<br />
"Not yet lah, teacher!"<br />
<br />
"Ish...faster lah, so slow! You think this is art class ah? I give you all two more minutes only kay."<br />
<br />
Two minutes later, the boys and girls met Jeremy the Two-Headed Dinosaur with a chorus of <i>oooohs</i>. <br />
<br />
I was home.</div>
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mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-17149187793128261092013-06-08T02:33:00.004+08:002013-06-08T02:39:12.814+08:00Writing Backwards<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
Yes, I did not update this blog for five and a half months. And counting.<br />
<br />
No, I did not get married. No, I did not become a millionaire. And no, I was not eaten by cannibals or crocodiles during the <a href="http://twisted-tales.blogspot.com/2012/12/its-time-to-try-defying-gravity.html">Mission Trip</a>. <br />
<br />
I will also not claim to have been too busy, as bloggers are wont to do. <br />
<br />
Fact is, Twisted Tales never left my mind. Like a lover pining after her departed soulmate, wondering whether he gazes at the same moon she does, for five and a half months I never stopped visiting and stealing glances.<br />
<br />
But I would not write.<br />
<br />
Why? I don't know. It wasn't a deliberate decision. It just happened.<br />
<br />
It would be romantic to think that I intentionally took a writing hiatus to reflect and sharpen. Like how a kung fu master retreats to meditate in the wilderness before emerging a changed warrior. <br />
<br />
I'm not sure if that's what I did. Hopefully I will emerge as a better writer, but there certainly was no plan for that.<br />
<br />
Anyway, let's make it simple. Here at Twisted Tales, I hold on to a proud tradition of posting at least once a month. That's since October 2004, when this place opened shop. The only exception was <a href="http://twisted-tales.blogspot.com/2011/07/june-2011.html">June 2011</a>, which was subsequently fashioned into a brilliant breaking-the-fourth-wall story. <br />
<br />
So to keep the tradition alive, I'm going to write backwards! Yep, I'll be posting stuff for January, February, March, April and May which I insist is IN MY HEAD BUT NOT WRITTEN DOWN YET. So it's almost like I did not stop blogging for five and a half months!<br />
<br />
Dumb? Yes. Pointless? Yes. Cheating? Yes. <br />
But it's my blog, and I'll do whatever I want with it! I bet nobody will even notice 10 years from now. They'll be browsing through month after month and be amazed by this amazing young man who tirelessly posted every single month. Every single month!<br />
<br />
So scroll down, and party like it's early 2013 again!</div>
mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-90411594162729564602013-01-31T21:39:00.000+08:002013-08-22T16:25:46.899+08:00I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Post coming soon!<br />
<br />
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Most
of us find it very difficult to want "Heaven" at all-except in so far
as "Heaven" means meeting again our friends who have died. One reason
for this difficulty is that we have not been trained: our whole education tends
to fix our minds on this world. Another reason is that when the real want for Heaven
is present in us, we do not recognise it. <b><i>Most people, if they had really
learned</i></b> <b><i>to look<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>into their
own hearts, would know that they do want, and want acutely, something that</i></b>
<b><i>cannot be had in this world.</i></b></span></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There
are all sorts of things in this world that offer to give it to you, but they
never quite keep their promise. </span></i></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The longings which arise in us
when we first fall in love, or first think of some foreign country, or first
take up some subject that excites us, are longings which no marriage, no
travel, no learning,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>can really satisfy.
I am not now speaking of what would be ordinarily called unsuccessful
marriages, or holidays, or learned careers. I am speaking of the best possible
ones. <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There
was something we grasped at, in that first moment of longing, which just fades
away in the reality.</span></i></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> I think everyone knows what I mean. The wife may
be a good wife, and the hotels and scenery may have been excellent, and
chemistry may be a very interesting job:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>but something has evaded us. Now there are two wrong ways of dealing
with this fact, and one right one.</span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">(1)
The Fool's Way: He puts the blame on the things themselves. He goes on all his
life thinking that if only he tried another woman, or went for a more expensive
holiday, or whatever it is, then, this time, he really would catch the
mysterious something we are all after. Most of the bored, discontented, rich
people in the world are of this type.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">They
spend their whole lives trotting from woman to woman (through the divorce
courts), from continent to continent, from hobby to hobby, always thinking that
the latest is "the Real Thing" at last, and always disappointed.</i></b></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">(2)
The Way of the Disillusioned “Sensible Man.”: He soon decides that the whole
thing was moonshine <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(a kind of hard liquor
popular in the author’s days)</i>. “Of course,” he says, “one feels like that when
one's young. But by the time you get to my age you've given up chasing the
rainbow's end.” <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And so he settles down and learns not to expect too much and represses
the part of himself which used, as he would say, “to cry for the moon.”<br />
</i></b><br />
This is, of course, a much better way than the first, and makes a man much
happier, and less of a nuisance to society. It tends to make him a prig (he is
apt to be rather superior towards what he calls “adolescents”), but, on the
whole, he rubs along fairly comfortably. It would be the best line we could
take if man did not live for ever. </span></div>
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<b><i><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But
supposing infinite happiness really is there, waiting for us? Supposing one really
can reach the rainbow's end? In that case it would be a pity to find out too
late (a moment after death) that by our supposed "common sense" we
had stifled in ourselves the faculty of enjoying it.</span></i></b><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">(3)
The Christian Way: The Christian says, “Creatures are not born with desires
unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there
is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing
as water. Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> If I
find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most
probable explanation is that I was made for another world.</i></b><br />
<br />
If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the
universe is a fraud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Probably
earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to
suggest the real thing.</i></b> If that is so, I must take care, on the one
hand, never to despise, or be unthankful for, these earthly blessings, and on
the other, never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only
a kind of copy, or echo, or mirage. I must keep alive in myself the desire for
my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it
get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to
press on to that other country and to help others to do the same."</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
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mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-11865561776807886272012-12-15T01:38:00.000+08:002013-01-07T22:35:13.508+08:00It's Time To Try Defying Gravity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
One year ago, I had Snowflake with Peter after he returned from mission trip.<br />
<br />
He shared with me how amazing it was, and that I should go too someday.<br />
<br />
I told him that I was more keen to volunteer for Life Game. To my surprise, he hesitated before replying, "That's good too, but I think it's still within your comfort zone."<br />
<br />
What? Surely he couldn't have meant that, right?<br />
<br />
"Sorry ah," he mumbled apologetically as always. "Sorry ah."<br />
<br />
Later that night, he even sent me an SMS to say sorry again. Cute!<br />
<br />
However, a deep thought had been grafted into my mind: Cold it be true? Was I really too comfortable in my ministry, willing only to approach the seen and face the understood?<br />
<br />
It was too much to bear. Somewhat out of peer pressure, I agreed to join the 2012 mission trip first chance I got.<br />
<br />
On a dreary Sunday evening in March, the team met together for the first time. It was a lot more serious and scary than I expected. Thankfully over the months, we slowly bonded through times of sharing, prayer, rehearsing and planning together. But one thing remained - the trip itself always seemed like a very distant event. Kind of like death - you spend your whole life preparing for it, but it never feels <i>real</i> until you're staring it in the eye.<br />
<br />
Well, I'm now staring the mission trip in the eye. About 12 hours before takeoff. <br />
<br />
It has not been an easy journey. Speaking from a humanly perspective, I dislike this trip a lot.<br />
<br />
I dislike that it was extended beyond Christmas, seemingly against my will.<br />
<br />
I dislike that it was placed in December, a very very busy month for everyone.<br />
<br />
I dislike that I have to skip three weddings for it, two of friends who are quite close.<br />
<br />
I dislike that I have had to turn down several jobs and endure some crazy rushes for it.<br />
<br />
I dislike that so many super urgent projects have oh-so-conveniently popped up.<br />
<br />
I dislike that I happened to sign up for the longest, furthest and most 'underprivileged' mission trip in my church history.<br />
<br />
I dislike that we are going into an even more difficult and unfamiliar area this year.<br />
<br />
I dislike that many people have warned me about falling horribly ill there.<br />
<br />
I dislike that we will be there in WINTER with NO WATER HEATER.<br />
<br />
I dislike that there are so many extra charges for this trip - vaccination, visa, insurance etc.<br />
<br />
I dislike the fact that I'm really, really unprepared for this. As I type, I still have quite a fair bit of work to rush. Planning to wake up early tomorrow to complete it.<br />
<br />
These past two weeks, I find myself sometimes zoning into a trance-like state as I imagine how the trip will be like. But ultimately, nothing fruitful seems to result from that.<br />
<br />
Maybe, just maybe, it's time to let go and trust God.<br />
<i><br /><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s" id="line_5">Too late for second-guessing</span><span class="line line-s" id="line_6"> </span></span></i><br />
<i><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s" id="line_6">Too late to go back to sleep</span><br /><span class="line line-s" id="line_7">It's time to trust my instincts</span><span class="line line-s" id="line_8"> </span></span></i><br />
<i><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s" id="line_8">Close my eyes... and leap! </span></span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s" id="line_9">It's time to try defying gravity</span></span></i><br />
<i><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_10">I think I'll try defying gravity</span><br /><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_11">Kiss me goodbye I'm defying gravity</span><br /><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_12">And you won't bring me down!</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_12">See you all on the other side of doomsday! ;)</span></span><i><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/Lyric"><span class="line line-s hover" id="line_12"><br /></span></span></i></div>
mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-25287090780752382222012-11-28T22:01:00.000+08:002013-06-08T02:41:59.443+08:00Lyrical Musings, Part 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-2oncyjUr0ECXA_sXBfEkXx4oNpQJMh2xUmosDqjg74YymAkYXQLRF2qEDkdMIGx3KJUhEVSUDnpIJeOkTv1begX2srM0QqeiyyWLY7bn0AAXjMG-ZHeWIhQO9nHz0oVpiUG/s1600/haiku.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj-2oncyjUr0ECXA_sXBfEkXx4oNpQJMh2xUmosDqjg74YymAkYXQLRF2qEDkdMIGx3KJUhEVSUDnpIJeOkTv1begX2srM0QqeiyyWLY7bn0AAXjMG-ZHeWIhQO9nHz0oVpiUG/s320/haiku.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>I wrote this and posted it online under a sexy new American pseudonym.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Wow. I'm really enjoying rhyming a lot these days. My hit-and-miss collection of <i>mokkus</i> (very, very loosely based on haikus) posted on Facebook over the past two days.<br />
<br />
<span class="userContent">Mary Rose<br /> Sat on a rose.<br /> Mary rose. <br /><br />(Okay okay, I'll come clean here. I actually stole this from one of those Bookworm joke books I read when I was younger. However, their version goes 'Mary Rose, sat on a PIN'. Which I think is not as funny as mine. I assure you however that the rest are mine.)<br /><br />(A further check on Google reveals that it's actually quite a common prose.)</span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent">Kim Jong-Il<br /> Ate bad eel.<br /> Kim Jong ill.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent">Ha Ji Won<br /> Bet ten won.<br /> Ha Ji won.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"> </span><span class="userContent"><br />Alice Tan<br /> Sunbathed till ten.<br /> Alice tan.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"><br />Ong Kar Ting<br /> Forgot something.<br /> Ong Kar think.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent">Chua Soi Lek<br /> Unifi he lacked.<br /> Chua Soi lag.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"> </span><span class="userContent"><br />Ryu, Ken.<br /> Who uses Hadouken?<br /> Ryu can.</span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent">Brad Pitt<br /> Went to a pit.<br /> Brad peed.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"> </span><span class="userContent"><br />Abu Bakar<br /> Trapped in burning car.<br /> Abu bakar.</span><br />
<span class="userContent"> </span><span class="userContent"><br />John Woo<br /> Typed "wuwuwuu~"<br /> John woo.<br /><br /><i>Later amended to:</i></span><span class="userContent"> </span><br />
<span class="userContent">John Woo,<br /> Knitted sweater of wool.<br /> John woo.</span><br />
<br />
Sekian, terima kasih.</div>
mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-84699161447075180022012-11-21T23:52:00.000+08:002012-12-15T01:39:04.248+08:00Lyrical Musings<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7ijEC1-YSS8Eeucz2pPI8-m9NcOwlVgpmgHkHF4-taRcg5LrqmfFNBul16BEvUfs-5ZBRNSVjAwp93PA-P2iQDFUk5YnofMPWGhzT7NFCV9tGzE4IaLjsExpkyC104PRlsqY/s1600/lyrics.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7ijEC1-YSS8Eeucz2pPI8-m9NcOwlVgpmgHkHF4-taRcg5LrqmfFNBul16BEvUfs-5ZBRNSVjAwp93PA-P2iQDFUk5YnofMPWGhzT7NFCV9tGzE4IaLjsExpkyC104PRlsqY/s320/lyrics.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>This is not mine, though it wishes it was.</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was bored today and these resulted:<br />
<br />
<b>60 Going On 70</b><br />
<i><span class="userContent">I am 60 (kg), going on 70 (kg)<br /> I feel like a swine<br /> Fellows I met have told me I'm fat<br /> And now I just chat online.<br /> <br /> I am 60 (kg), going on 70 (kg)<br /> Overweight and so gross<br /> Size zero tight jeans, clothes from magazines</span></i><br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<i> What do I know of those? <br /> <br /> Totally unprepared am I <br /> To face a world of dates<br /> Timid and shy and scared am I<br /> Of girls below my weight.<br /> <br /> I need someone heavier and fatter<br /> To make me look somewhat cool<br /> You are 70 (kg), going on 80 (kg)<br /> I'll depend on you.</i></div>
<b><br />My Favourite Things</b><br />
<i><span class="userContent">Barbecued sweet pork and crispy fried chicken,<br /> Rich chocolate cake and ice cream with pecans.<br /> Big juicy burgers with onion rings,<br /> These are a few of my favourite things.<br /> <br /> Indomee double with telur mata kerbau,<br /> Large nasi lemak with extra hot sambal.<br /> Kajang lamb sate with grilled chicken wings,<br /> These are a few of my favourite things.</span></i><br />
<br />
<b>Tunai</b><br />
<i><span class="userContent">TUNAIIII...because I<br /> did not bring my Smart Tagggg<br /> Touch and Go zero<br /> So I havvvvve <br /> to goooooo<br /> <br /> TUNAIIII...so long queue<br /> So I go to Smart Tag lane</span></i><br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
<i><span class="userContent">Cut into Tunai lane</span></i><br />
<i><span class="userContent">All horn tilllll</span></i><br />
<i><span class="userContent">my ears so painnnn</span></i><br />
<i><span class="userContent"><br /></span></i>
<i><span class="userContent">So if by the time you reach your turn</span></i><br />
<i><span class="userContent">and you feel like want to die</span></i><br />
<i><span class="userContent">Remember to have enough...</span></i><br />
<i><span class="userContent">TUNAI.</span></i></div>
<i><span class="userContent">
</span></i><br />
Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I think they're really quite funny and creative.mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-85299111327453636222012-11-15T23:31:00.000+08:002012-12-05T09:57:11.389+08:00Larutan Tepu<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwKWjGoZTs4Ti5zHSRrof7oT-lZ252qGagCuvhtuAP2ti4ZyW6xa_ICwli6k6WTbXiI9Bge6OVJlPBBZQB7aSDqxfODYQTizHejQdG_8fX4SZVpTniFtTXda19MNtu3tOMs_Jh/s1600/larutantepu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwKWjGoZTs4Ti5zHSRrof7oT-lZ252qGagCuvhtuAP2ti4ZyW6xa_ICwli6k6WTbXiI9Bge6OVJlPBBZQB7aSDqxfODYQTizHejQdG_8fX4SZVpTniFtTXda19MNtu3tOMs_Jh/s320/larutantepu.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>Larutan tepu</i>. Heard of it before? Maybe only if you're a product of the <i>Sains</i> in Bahasa teaching system.<br />
<br />
In English, it means <i>saturated liquid</i>. In normal English, it means a liquid that has had so much dissolved into it till it cannot absorb anything else. If you were to continually stir salt into a cup of water, eventually it would become so saturated that new salt just would not dissolve in it. The water can no longer absorb any new salt particles.<br />
<br />
During mission trip meeting last week, it dawned on me how easily we saturate our lives sometimes. We surround ourselves with endless activities, commitments, plans, gadgets and media, carelessly allowing them to eat up more and more of our time, till eventually we become<i> tepu</i>. In such a state, we are no longer able to absorb any more from God and His blessings. It is not that God's presence has decreased, but that our hearts and minds can no longer receive.<br />
<br />
We need to take good care of ourselves. Life in the city naturally inclines us towards taking in more and more. It is not natural to live in simplicity - it takes a conscious decision and continuous effort.<br />
<br />
My friend, I pray that you do not end up as a <i>larutan tepu</i> from the world's impurities. God has so much more goodness to stir into you.mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-65042249333535836152012-10-24T11:48:00.000+08:002012-10-25T17:38:47.750+08:00Promise<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/8Fj77ClTe1A" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
I've always been a fan of this song by Faye Wong.<br />
<br />
Today I finally understood what the lyrics mean, and they're just as beautiful as I've always imagined them to be.<br />
<br />
<i>I still remember the hotel sign that day</i><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><i>I still recall our smiles as
we departed<br />
That day, the city streets bustled ever so<br />
As we walked together for half a mile.<br /><br />
I still remember the streetlight's yellow on your face</i>
<i><br />
Lighting up our lukewarm take-away<br />
Silhouetted, the contours of your face looked too good<br />
With tears held back, I dared myself to gaze closer<br /><br />
Forgetting all else</i>
<i><br />
It felt like losing myself as well<br />
Yet I could not forget our promise to watch yellow leaves fill the sky<br />
Even if I part from you<br />
A sad story indeed<br />
You must forget, so that I shall not remember<br /><br />
For tomorrow, we may no longer recognise each other</i>
<i><br />
Yet we will not forget our promise to meet again if we are still alive<br />
Even if you are strong<br />
Time will take its toll<br />
Even if your hair turns white<br />
I will still recognise you<br /><br />
I still remember the guitar chords that day</i>
<i><br />
I still understand what every tune meant <br />
Your voice lingered in the corner of the street<br />
The road we walked past, like a song it faded<br /><br />
Forgetting all else</i>
<i><br />
It felt like losing myself as well<br />
Yet I could not forget our promise to watch yellow leaves fill the sky<br />
Even if I part from you<br />
A sad story indeed<br />
You must forget, so that I shall not remember<br /><br />
For tomorrow, we may no longer recognise each other</i>
<i><br />
Yet we will not forget our promise to meet again if we are still alive<br />
Even if you are strong<br />
Time will take its toll<br />
Even if your hair turns white<br />
I will still recognise you<br /><br />
Even if you are strong</i>
<i><br />
Time will take its toll<br />
Even if your hair turns white<br />
I will still recognise you</i><br />
</span><br />
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mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-87154094316458785122012-09-28T08:40:00.000+08:002012-10-30T10:39:59.501+08:00Young Man<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgou0Q2ADu7UJv1jqS-3efKRmZM3usXRhD5hhcLipQiMrNC0-AfYPUrVAjXCFy7gira5J9Ow_LsDwKC61cQuMwgoBdN6JgKRhX_n052-dDG4u0VKGHhq2E6-I6L6YPnONEKQVFi/s1600/oldman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgou0Q2ADu7UJv1jqS-3efKRmZM3usXRhD5hhcLipQiMrNC0-AfYPUrVAjXCFy7gira5J9Ow_LsDwKC61cQuMwgoBdN6JgKRhX_n052-dDG4u0VKGHhq2E6-I6L6YPnONEKQVFi/s320/oldman.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Young man,<br />Why are you so angry?<br />Why are you quick to speak, slow to listen?<br />Why are you filled daily with harshness and curses?<br /><br />Young man,<br />Why are you in such a hurry?<br />Why are you running from one accomplishment to another?<br />Why are you making those around you run just as fast?<br /><br />Young man,<br />Why are you so ambitious?<br />Why do you wish to amass riches beyond compare?<br />Why do you wish to lord over the rest of the world?<br /><br />Young man,<br />Why are you so proud?<br />Why do you fall in love so easily with all you have done?<br />Why do you take pleasure in belittling those who are lesser?<br /><br />Young man,<br />Why are you so reckless?<br />Why do you flirt with the dangers and temptations of this world?<br />Why do you desire to experience foolishness for yourself first?<br /><br />Young man,<br />I'm sorry I scolded you for being too playful for my liking.<br />I'm sorry I was too busy to play silly ball games with you.<br />I'm sorry I worked too hard to give us a supposed better life.<br />I'm sorry I mocked your drawings and forced you to become me.<br />I'm sorry I disregarded all sound advice and paid with my body.<br /><br />Young man,<br />Please stay a while<br />And listen to me.<br /><br />Young man,<br />Don't go, I beg you<br />Listen to this old man.<br /><br />Young man,<br />I wish you all the best in life.mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-1296539301227729482012-08-16T18:12:00.000+08:002013-01-29T19:10:24.219+08:00Short Films, Lifelong Memories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlwhyphenhyphenwlw-Ot0g6bLhM2t1ZT2vWKuzVqqjfYvmx5scMT_agCo3YQQvJkZ5KBhrrqdlhPjAhCazqgGfjc7QrHgFyXA2fE_Rtpn4hYxpJ1san90L3lYdZ4pUdg-izynuENPtx1dWv/s1600/3+idiots.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlwhyphenhyphenwlw-Ot0g6bLhM2t1ZT2vWKuzVqqjfYvmx5scMT_agCo3YQQvJkZ5KBhrrqdlhPjAhCazqgGfjc7QrHgFyXA2fE_Rtpn4hYxpJ1san90L3lYdZ4pUdg-izynuENPtx1dWv/s320/3+idiots.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>My Youtube channel pic since 2006, taken in 2002.</i></b><br />
<b><i>Not sure if things have changed since then. </i></b></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I love creating and telling stories. Always have, always will.<br />
<br />
However, stories are mere souls. They need a body to reside in - the medium.<br />
<br />
Recently, I have been very engrossed in analysing the intricacies of different storytelling mediums (media?). All my life, I chose to bring stories to life through writing. However, I am becoming aware that I am not a very good writer. A good writer needs to be an ardent reader or traveller, possess tremendous patience, passion, honesty and a certain degree of eccentricity. I am extremely average in all of these aspects; hence, a propensity only for short stories.<br />
<br />
Over the years, I also dabbled in a little film-making. But these were always more out of necessity than interest. Now as I watch more short films on Youtube, this particular medium is starting to grow on me.<br />
<br />
I love how little visual hints can be used to convey subtle character traits, suggest plot points or even beautify a scene. Compared to writing, where I often find it a chore to describe scenes without venturing into English Essay mode e.g. 'It was a bright and breezy day at the beach, with waving coconut trees and cheerful families framing the idyllic scene.' A+ for school, Big C for Cheesy for me. Unfortunately for writers, we are always fighting against the universal truth that a picture speaks a thousand words.<br />
<br />
Also, I enjoy the camaraderie that the film-making process brings. Unlike writing which is almost always a lonesome affair, film-making gives everyone a chance to shine. The actors! The cameraman! The scriptwriter! The props and costume person (low budget, need to multitask)! Et cetera. It's one of the awesomest feelings to see everyone come together, passionate about the same cause and give their all! Adds a whole lot more dynamism to the project. Of course, working in a team isn't all fun and games. You win some, you lose some.<br />
<br />
Ah...I love and miss making short films!<br />
<br />
Just so that this post doesn't end too abruptly, here are some of my past short films that I love the most. Okay, so they're actually not short films. They're ads for a yearly youth Gospel Camp my church conducts. <br />
<br />
<div style="color: red;">
<b>2008: No Apologies: The Truth About Love, Life & Sex</b></div>
<br />
<b>Ep 1: </b>Shot and dubbed in Zhi Yong's house in two hours. Extremely amateurish work, as we were totally new to this at the time. Evidence: hilariously inconsistent lighting and camera angle changes, on-the-spot and unwilling actors (especially Zhi Zheng), unsynchronised voice-overs. Fortunately, the sentimental Yiruma music (which was added because Zhi Yong SO HAPPENED to have it in his laptop) and Jhow Weh's voice saved it. The church people loved it.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/T9D6Sw5ap2o" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
<b>Ep 2:</b> To underscore how unprofessional we were back then, we weren't even able to retain the same actors for the next installment. They were too embarrassed. Well, at least we still had the original voice actors. I recall Zhi Yong having to work some editing gymnastics as we left out several lines during voice recording. In retrospect it was still very amateurish but the allegedly stirring storyline tugged many a heartstring. And the music. <br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ZKMHf4UEOjQ" width="420"></iframe><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Ep 3:</b> Yay! The original actors returned. But it didn't make much a difference, as they were randomly cast and not believable as a couple from the start. Yeah, a six-year age gap is easy to tell once you're out of bed. All in all, a less-than-epic conclusion that contained too many flashbacks and a rather 'huh?' ending. We wanted to keep the ending ambiguous - it wasn't clear whether Alice was leaving for another place, or committing suicide. Nope, didn't work. <br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/jru2cSBGTGs" width="420"></iframe><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Ep 4: </b>A joke epilogue that aired at the end of the camp Talent Night. I especially remember the thrill of creating overlapping voices for the first time. Funny to think how it started off as a silly conversation with Chi Yuan, and ended up being a moment for the ages! <br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/dOWDzliB-IY" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
<div style="color: red;">
<b>2009: Escape</b></div>
<b><br />Ep 1:</b> New year, new camp, entirely new direction! If last year's Ep 1 was 'controversial' for its suggested nudity, this was bordering on being too scary. We gathered in Ju Yuan's house to discuss script ideas, and started fooling around with masks and coats (<i>The Dark Knight</i> and Joker were still very much in fashion then). Several test shots later, a cool new video came into being.<br />
<br />
Okay, not really. The initial video, which had Ju Yuan acting as the 'devil' and was supposedly set to the theme of Ghostbusters, was just too hard to take seriously. So I quickly organised a re-shoot. Unfortunately, Ju Yuan wasn't around on the day of the reshoot and we had to settle for...who else? Jhow Weh. Surprisingly, he delivered an inspired performance (both acting and voice-over!). Couple that with the chilling theme from <i>Jaws</i>, and a classic was born. <br />
<br />
The campy first cut was eventually seen again in the bloopers video. <br />
<b><br /><iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/opUQxhZfZLk" width="420"></iframe></b>
<br />
<b><br />Ep 2: </b>Once again, the curse of the sequel loomed large. After the well-received part 1, there were only two ways we could go. One, rehash the 'porn struggle' which was an appealing subject. Two, go for something new. The latter was clearly a logical choice. Unfortunately, other sins were just less 'captivating' than the subject of porn. The end result - a much weaker Part 2 that pushed a grand total of zero envelopes.<br />
<br />
And oh...you would never have guessed it, but the mother-daughter-boyfriend phone conversations were INSANELY tough to shoot and edit. Mostly due to my lack of proper planning and equipment.<br />
<br />
And, and, also...this would be my first collaboration with the talented actress/future director Evie Wong. In case you don't notice, her lines are all voice-overs! Yes, that means she had to recite her lines once during shooting, and repeat the exact words during voice-over recording. Not easy when you consider that most of our dialogue was ad-libbed.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/bZTPK865YUk" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
<b>Ep 3: </b>Wiser from my mistake in No Apologies Part 3, I quickly established that this finale needed a bang. We started with 'Temptation is powerful', followed by 'Temptation is alluring'. It made sense then that the conclusion should be a positive one: 'Temptation is defeatable'.<br />
<br />
Interestingly, Evie's dialogue was recorded 100% from Taiwan (she had left to further her studies), based only on my English script. Plus, Lian Juang was very very reluctant to act. And check out Jhow Weh's epic <i>sukan </i>pants.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/LivhY9KTTOs" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
<b>Bloopers: </b>The aforementioned fiasco and more that followed. It's actually not that funny.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/4cO7sEQaPCk" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
<div style="color: red;">
<b>2010: The Pursuit Of Happiness</b></div>
<br />
<b>Ep 1:</b> My personal favourite series! This time, the world was introduced to a gifted actor by the name of Clement Choo. We went to Benjamin's house and brainstormed for ideas before Clement and/or Benjamin stumbled upon the idea of doing something <i>District 9</i>-esque. If memory serves me right, we shot his interview scene there, and then drove straight to Peter's house for the second scene. As always, almost everything was ad-libbed.<br />
<br />
Musically-wise, I love the surrealism and youthfulness 'Dreams' brings, reminiscent of one pursuing happiness. Perhaps some felt that it was too pop, but to me it perfectly captures the storyline's essence. And I wouldn't have it any other way.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/O9qUJGejr70" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
<b>Ep 2: </b>Ah yes, the video that required two nights' worth of retakes. While it was unique for using only one continuous shot, this was a nightmare to shoot because of two words: Jhow Weh. Acting as the interviewer, he messed up his lines over and over and over and over while poor Li Yin endured laughing playfully with her 'dad' 68 million times. At the end of the night, we were finally closing in on a successful take. And...Jhow Weh's phone, which was also our camera, died. Seriously.<br />
<br />
Utterly demotivated, everyone agreed to come back the next night. And Li Yin had to wear the same clothes, which is embarrassing if you're a girl. If you believe that the first take is the best, this would be one of the worst videos ever.<br />
<br />
Compared to the previous years though, I feel that this didn't do too bad for an Episode 2. Furthered the plot quite nicely with some snippets of drama.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/itgFGdh2MUM" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
<b>Ep 3:</b> If I thought Ep 2 was hard to shoot, I was so so wrong. THIS WAS HARDER TO SHOOT THAN THE LORD OF THE RINGS TRILOGY.<br />
<br />
Explanation: It was Chinese New Year, and both Brandon and Li Yin would be out of KL at varying times. Scheduling conflicts, if you will. Plus, we had to do some site recce as the first scene would be shot in Endah Parade. <br />
<br />
After much hassle, yay! We finally got our shot. And the Curse of Jhow Weh's Phone struck again.<br />
<br />
Without any reason, the file became CORRUPTED. ROSAK. KAPUT. Like...what??!<br />
<br />
To cut a long story short, we had to reshoot one week later by when Brandon's hair had grown comically long and Li Yin had cut hers. At least we got a random shopper which Li Yin rather realistically bumped into as she stormed off.<br />
<br />
As an aside, this was a rather emotional video for me. I was then being admitted to hospital for my knee operation, and would spend entire days editing it there. A lot of life pondering took place too, given the subject of the video. Till today, the song 'Maybe' by Yiruma takes me to a special place. :)<br />
<b></b><br />
Once I finished this episode, I wept a
little inside as I knew that it was the completion of a very special
trilogy. No matter what was to come, they would always be irreplaceable to me.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Lr4CRwXp49c" width="420"></iframe><br />
<b><br /><span style="color: red;">2011: Unplug</span></b><br />
<br />
Evie Wong returned to lend me a hand for this one. As much as I hate to admit it, my heart just wasn't very much into it then. I was also Camp Director that year, and thus didn't want to devote too much time into shooting videos. <br />
<br />
From a technical aspect, it was a breakthrough as we started using Evie's canggih Sony Handycam (okay, still quite un-canggih actually), multiple camera angles and Adobe Premiere Pro editing (compared to Windows Movie Maker previously...don't you dare laugh!). It took some effort to coax a performance out of Joel, but he did considerably well.<br />
<br />
Fun fact: This is the only Gospel Camp promo video where Jhow Weh does not appear in some capacity. He had a cameo appearance as a shopper in Pursuit Of Happiness Ep 3.<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ZwLGv0iPYuo" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
And...that's all, folks! More new memories soon, I hope?<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><i>To me, every single bump, bruise, cut, everything has been worth it.
The sacrifices as you call them, I wouldn’t give any of ‘em back to
you, because I loved ‘em all.” - Steve Austin</i></span></div>
mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-74293601772711333302012-08-06T15:04:00.001+08:002012-08-07T23:08:13.185+08:00Don't Let China Win<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: red; text-align: left;">
<i>Dedicated to Lin Dan and Lee Chong Wei, who gave us one of the most heart-stopping Olympic finals ever. Here's to the Batman and Joker of badminton.</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: red; text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG1sQhQHH6Z53wtAr30WoYG3eJnEsErInAOEaXlmAoQ_49L9S4wrTfw8T_YmVPtYp0Clbx1Bn9e-p21T5C2d9EaNQaRwd1pAu7R_Rdr4QDH94OtWOmkO5lmo4FWySqL0Hh6Fi_/s320/leecwdan.jpg" width="320" /><br />
<b><br /><i>March 4, 2053</i></b><br />
<br />
Chong Wei stepped into the hospital room, somewhat hesitant.<br />
<br />
He
made his way towards the solitary bed, taking care not to put too much
weight on his perpetually aching right foot. Each step taking him closer
to a man he had not seen for over 20 years.<br />
<br />
And there he
was. A feeble man on the bed stuck with pitiful tubes and apparatuses
all over. His body had long failed him, but in his eyes Chong Wei still
recognised the defiant pride of a man they once called Super Dan.<br />
<br />
With much effort, Lin Dan turned his face to Chong Wei and smiled.<br />
<br />
<i>My greatest adversary</i>,
Chong Wei thought as he smiled back and nodded. This man, who gave him
countless sleepless nights, heartbreaks and tears. In the course of
their careers they faced off close to 60 times, though many of the later
matches were for charity events.<br />
<br />
The Thomas Cups. The World Championships. The Super Series. The Opens.<br />
<br />
The Olympics.<br />
<br />
To
be more precise, the 2016 Rio Olympics. The defining moment when Chong
Wei etched his place in sporting folklore for eternity.<br />
<br />
Then
33 years of age, he staged a spectacular comeback into the Olympics and
battled all the way into a historic third consecutive Olympics
badminton final against - you guessed it, Lin Dan. At that time though,
it wasn't a foregone conclusion as Lin himself was already 32 years old and past his prime. But both competitors showed tremendous
resilience to skip past the field of younger players, silencing critics
who predicted embarrassing early-round exits for the two.<br />
<br />
The
highly-anticipated final, touted by the media as 'Eight Years In The
Making', would be either one of two things. Lin could take another
unconquerable step into greatness, or Chong Wei could seize his one last
chance at redemption. The stakes were just too high – especially for
Chong Wei, for whom a third straight final defeat could prove to be too
crushing. The Chinese press especially had a field day, speculating that
Chong Wei might even fall into depression should he lose again.<br />
<br />
It
was the game of Chong Wei's life. He played like a man possessed;
chasing after shuttles beyond reach, returning strikes that were too
powerful, outmaneuvering the master at every turn. If it was even
possible, the commentators noted, both men were playing at a level
higher than four years ago.<br />
<br />
An all-too-familiar story
ensued: Chong Wei won the first set, Lin snatched the second, and both
went neck-to-neck in the rubber. Just like in London, leads were traded
back and forth and neither man could establish an advantage. At 15-15,
the stadium hushed as Lin started his serve.<br />
<br />
Mistake. It went short. The Malaysian supporters went wild, begging Chong Wei to not let history repeat.<br />
<br />
Much
wiser this time, Chong Wei remained calm and took his time to read and
counter Lin's moves. 17, 18, 19, 20! Game point. If Lin could somehow
come back from this, Chong Wei would never, ever forgive himself.<br />
<br />
He
steadied himself and served. After a brief flurry of exchanges, an
opportunity presented itself at the net for Chong Wei. The deftest of
flicks was enough to lift it over into Lin's half, just slightly past
Dan's outstretched arm.<br />
<br />
And that was it. Chong Wei, at third time trying, had finally delivered Malaysia's first Olympics gold medal.<br />
<br />
In a cheeky move, he peeled off his shirt and posed with a less impressive body.<br />
<br />
Soon
after that legendary game, both announced their retirements. As years
went by and newer stars rose, they gradually stopped meeting. That was,
till Chong Wei received news that Lin was severely ill.<br />
<br />
Now here he lay, old and dying. It was very strange and scary all at once.<br />
<br />
Lin tugged at Chong Wei, motioning for him to come closer.<br />
<br />
"My friend." Chong Wei tried not to let his voice break.<br />
<br />
Lin pulled Chong Wei even closer, trying to speak into his ear.<br />
<br />
"Yes?"<br />
<br />
"Y...you beat me. At the Olympics." came the hoarse whisper.<br />
<br />
"It was a good game, my friend."<br />
<br />
Lin nodded, his breathing growing more laboured by the second.<br />
<br />
"You beat me...because I let you."<br />
<br />
<i>What?</i><br />
<br />
"I didn't...want you...to be sad."<br />
<br />
And Lin Dan breathed his last. Still smiling. Still defiant. Still brutally truthful.mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-91467306744429811532012-07-28T02:44:00.003+08:002012-07-30T01:16:03.931+08:00Lim Hui Jia (Part 2)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDFAn7QCMmhdVaW3EsI1YIG6Zu2Rj88ev9qP1Vr4mGGwtgK_OstUfWh6Bt1LHhGdJQDgVz1VbYJyr2TiO7MBp8x9_3oJS6kSc0MfOaFxSeRGIncKdpUE-KWrL90_A8vxDacYkz/s1600/limhuijia2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDFAn7QCMmhdVaW3EsI1YIG6Zu2Rj88ev9qP1Vr4mGGwtgK_OstUfWh6Bt1LHhGdJQDgVz1VbYJyr2TiO7MBp8x9_3oJS6kSc0MfOaFxSeRGIncKdpUE-KWrL90_A8vxDacYkz/s320/limhuijia2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
"Hey." <br />
<br />
Hui Jia woke up, trying to make out his surroundings. <br />
<br />
Right. It was a fifteen-minute break between classes, and he had drifted to sleep while thinking of ideas for the upcoming school essay contest. Right before Kevin, the bordering-on-obnoxious rich kid in class, interrupted. <br />
<br />
"I'm having a birthday party at my place this Saturday. You wanna come over?"<br />
<br />
"I'll need to ask my mother first."<br />
<br />
"Adoi, mother mother. OK lah, you let me know asap kay?"<br />
<br />
"Asap?"<br />
<br />
"You dunno what asap means ah? As swift as possible lah..."<br />
<br />
"Oh, okay. Then I'll let you know...asap."<br />
<br />
"Make sure you come kay." Kevin leaned closer with a smirk. "The girls are coming also."<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
"Ma, please! It's just a few hours."<br />
<br />
"I know. But who's going to take care of the house while I'm away?"<br />
<br />
"Why are you going to Aunt Mabel's house again?"<br />
<br />
"Her house got flooded last night. She needs help sorting her stuff back. Hmm, in fact...I should ask you to come along as well!"<br />
<br />
"Don't you dare! I have tonnes of homework!"<br />
<br />
"Good! Then you can stay home to finish them."<br />
<br />
"Maaaaaaaa...please, please. I'll be home early I promise. Once they finish, I'll leave."<br />
<br />
She gazed at him, half relenting.<br />
<br />
"Pleeeeeease. I've never been to a party ever."<br />
<br />
"What time will you be back?"<br />
<br />
"Ten o' clock. Sharp."<br />
<br />
"You said it, okay?"<br />
<br />
"Yes, promise."<br />
<br />
"Okay then."<br />
<br />
"Yes!" he pumped his fist in the air. "You're the best, ma!"<br />
<br />
All she could do was smile.<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
"All right, who's game for the next round?" Kevin held up a precious free controller. <br />
<br />
It was the night of the party. Everything was spectacularly novel to Hui Jia so far, from seeing his school mates all dressed up to the idea of unlimited snacking. Here, everyone seemed nicer and friendlier than in class, as though they shared a collective social awkwardness that brought them closer. Every joke became funnier, every conversation warmer, every thought simpler.<br />
<br />
And now, after the cake cutting and opening of presents - for which Hui Jia was eternally grateful to his mother's sense in picking out a socially-acceptable gift - the people were starting to leave. Some of the boys, himself included, were still having a few rounds of Playstation something. It was all just too terribly exciting for him.<br />
<br />
"Hey," someone called out to him. "Your phone's ringing."<br />
<br />
Drat! He quickly glanced at the living hall clock. Nine fifty.<br />
<br />
Of course, it had to be his mother.<br />
<br />
"Hello?" he tried his best to sound proper.<br />
<br />
"Ah Jia, are you still at the party?"<br />
<br />
"Uh, yah. But leaving soon!"<br />
<br />
"Okay, good."<br />
<br />
She then proceeded to utter the best sentence in the universe.<br />
<br />
"I'll be home later, we've still got quite a lot to do."<br />
<br />
"Oh."<br />
<br />
"Your friend will be fetching you home right?"<br />
<br />
"Yup."<br />
<br />
"Okay, so make sure you follow him, don't let people wait for you. If I'm not home yet when you sleep, leave the front light on."<br />
<br />
"Okay, ma."<br />
<br />
"Okay, bye."<br />
<br />
End of conversation.<br />
<br />
And the start of <i>Need For Speed: Most Wanted</i>!<br />
<br />
"I'm in!" he grabbed the controller and pressed Start.<br />
<i><b><br />To be continued.</b></i>mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-33616854625864444322012-07-26T19:57:00.003+08:002012-07-27T09:50:08.837+08:00Lim Hui Jia (Part 1)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilDdCnwOTxKZ-gFvSHEhwnD0XMU_bHvoRs-EdAqWqbbZsTE9YKWpnNCAXu2rexQ37NT_5e6LQrxB1K2OlLk8FM6RgFI0QM1QjeWlspbucRn2Uo5gcJBTO8LDhE9AiuaZa2CtFn/s1600/limhuijia.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="105" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilDdCnwOTxKZ-gFvSHEhwnD0XMU_bHvoRs-EdAqWqbbZsTE9YKWpnNCAXu2rexQ37NT_5e6LQrxB1K2OlLk8FM6RgFI0QM1QjeWlspbucRn2Uo5gcJBTO8LDhE9AiuaZa2CtFn/s320/limhuijia.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />"Lim Hui Jia."<br />
<br />
A scruffy boy by the window rolled his eyes.<br />
<br />
"Lim Hui Jia." the teacher repeated louder.<br />
<br />
"Here." He raised his hand half-heartedly and quickly turned his gaze back outside.<br />
<br />
Hui Jia, who had yet to settle on an English name, had despised his name for all thirteen years of his existence. Simply because it sounded exactly like 'go home' in Mandarin. And anyone with half a brain knows that in school, having a name that sounds remotely like any actual words is asking for trouble.<br />
<br />
True enough, trouble dogged him. Most of the boys teased him to no end, incorporating his name into every sentence they conversed in. <br />
<br />
<i>"Hey, what time you hui jia today?"<br /><br />"Haiya, you don't talk so much...you hui jia lah!"<br /><br />"Where's your homework? Hui jia already?"</i><br />
<br />
Even the teachers chipped in, often complete with a hateful face of look-at-me-i'm-so-witty!.<br />
<br />
He figured that it would stop after a while. But no luck, not even after years of schooling. Which to his teenage self was an eternity. And most likely a lifelong condemnation.<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
"Ah Jia! Get off your computer! Come eat dinner now."<br />
<br />
Hui Jia slipped on his earphones, pretending not to hear.<br />
<br />
Two minutes passed before his mother stormed into the room. She was a rather large lady, sometimes slow in movement but always quick and sharp with her tongue.<br />
<br />
"HEY! I said turn off your computer!"<br />
<br />
He glared at her before saving his game to shut down the computer.<br />
<br />
*****<br />
<br />
"Eat your beansprouts," she scooped an oversized pile into his bowl.<br />
<br />
"Ugh."<br />
<br />
"They're good for you."<br />
<br />
He picked them up with his chopsticks, strand by strand, studying them carefully.<br />
<br />
"Ma, why is my name Hui Jia?"<br />
<br />
"How many times do you want to ask me? Did someone in school tease you again?"<br />
<br />
He put down his chopsticks crossly. "What do you think?"<br />
<br />
"Watch your manners. What's wrong with your name? Isn't it nice?"<br />
<br />
"No way! You try going to school every day and having your friends go 'Oooh...let's hui jia! Heyyy...why don't you hui jia!' Hui jia this, hui jia that! So funny! I swear when I'm older, I''m going to change my name!"<br />
<br />
She pursed her lips, allowing for an uncomfortable pause. "How about your mother? Do you want to change your mother as well?"<br />
<br />
"When did I ever say that?"<br />
<br />
"Your name reminds you of who you are and where you came from. If you change it, you're saying that you don't care about all that."<br />
<br />
There was no winning. He mouthed <i>whatever</i>, stuffing the horrid beansprouts in.<br />
<br />
<b><i>To be continued.</i></b>mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-34966762416044113832012-06-30T21:40:00.000+08:002012-07-31T21:59:49.652+08:00Friendster, I Miss You<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSTzTr_MSaQoo7sCGqk_wThnEIsOjN54gmQjy8PBhC8QRScxEz93f9a9MJ_XE1MOZf3gK9ZNqbzOh8RfsT0jTca6WIXPCHXSGUDZ0qI0N_sEf-PUR2vfj5KnWhyphenhyphenmX0Znfx0MwY/s1600/friendster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSTzTr_MSaQoo7sCGqk_wThnEIsOjN54gmQjy8PBhC8QRScxEz93f9a9MJ_XE1MOZf3gK9ZNqbzOh8RfsT0jTca6WIXPCHXSGUDZ0qI0N_sEf-PUR2vfj5KnWhyphenhyphenmX0Znfx0MwY/s320/friendster.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
If I could turn the World Wide Web back to a time in its history, it would be 2003.<br />
<br />
As
unimaginable as it is, then there was no Facebook. No Youtube. Not even
- horrors - Gmail. Yup, once upon a time email had a storage limit of
2MB.<br />
<br />
In those days, online interaction took place
primarily through MSN Messenger, or ICQ for some quainter folk. Everyone
went bonkers over cool new emoticons, saving and sharing them with much
gusto.<br />
<br />
For funny/cool videos, you had to visit
specialised Flash and video sites such as Break.com and
Killsometime.com. Well, they were definitely upfront about being slacker
sites. Most people had a designated folder for video clips shared
through email or MSN Messenger.<br />
<br />
And of course, the mother
of all social networking sites - Friendster. What could Friendster do?
For starters, it was the easiest way for anyone to create an online
presence. Self-made domains (Angelfire and Geocities, anyone?) required
actual technical know-how and blogs asked for too much content. Now
finally you could have all your friends together in a community, each
with their customised profiles and photos for you to pore over. Photos
and profiles aside, one thing that made Friendster truly special was the
testimonials.<br />
<br />
For those whose memories have been blurred
by Facebook or who never knew, testimonials were a passage you wrote to
describe / complement / reminisce about your friendship with someone.
Generally, the length was indicative of your degree of friendship.
Rumours once abound of a three-page testimonial. A most unfortunate
later innovation would happen - forwarded testimonials mostly consisting
of teddy bears, angels or smileys formed by punctuation marks.<br />
<br />
Oh,
how I miss the testimonials. The utter joy of having a friend oblige
your request with a painstakingly crafted piece, detailing how you first
met. Feeling a warmth creep into your heart as they describe the little
things about you that they cherish. All topped with a cheese-laden wish
for lasting friendship. Those were less jaded days, when the Internet
was a heaven-sent tool for connecting with friends.<br />
<br />
Today,
the tool has become an over-convoluted Swiss army knife. I'm tired of
the endless stream of crass jokes, profanity, pictures, videos, songs,
game requests, news articles, links etc that greet me daily. We no
longer communicate through words but <i>media.</i> Somewhere, we have traded our emotions for emoticons.<br />
<br />
Today,
we keep in touch by viewing each others' photos and posts. We find
common ground by sharing the same media and joining the same groups. We
show appreciation for one another with a simple Like. All too easy, too
automated.<br />
<br />
If Facebook introduced testimonials today, would they still work?<br />
<br />
Probably yes. But only if they were limited to 140 characters.<br />
<br />
Here's the Friendster, and a time when the Internet brought us all closer.<i> </i><br />
<br />
<i>And
in case you didn't know, Friendster was relaunched in June 2011 as a
social gaming platform. Save for a minority of informed users who backed
up in time, all old Friendster user profiles have been permanently
deleted. Including testimonials. :(</i>mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-14279807783995419162012-06-07T00:14:00.000+08:002012-10-30T10:43:58.885+08:00There's Gonna Be A Revival In The Land!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzexJ9z6hMgXpwE4rKj7PZfbSCPPZVuJvgS7yY0kPYtBU5kLbAyNT-K1TPlFyQ-3uL-iKngGgWldIqdwauDNAAUTyVAZEAjTU8X16dd8CNHmMuNC6am5WMEnetKClE2CbI6DsV/s1600/revival01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzexJ9z6hMgXpwE4rKj7PZfbSCPPZVuJvgS7yY0kPYtBU5kLbAyNT-K1TPlFyQ-3uL-iKngGgWldIqdwauDNAAUTyVAZEAjTU8X16dd8CNHmMuNC6am5WMEnetKClE2CbI6DsV/s320/revival01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
There's gonna be a revival in the land,<br />
There's gonna be a revival in the laaaand.<br />
From the north! (NORTH!)<br />
To the south! (SOUTH!)<br />
To the east, and the wehhhhh-st.<br />
There's gonna be a revival (HEY HEY!)<br />
There's gonna be a revival (HEY HEY!)<br />
There's gonna be a revival in the land!<br />
<br />
WO! YAU! ZAN! MEI!<br />
<br />
:)))<br />
<br />mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-55651466556252072752012-05-31T01:11:00.000+08:002012-08-17T01:40:03.779+08:00I Don't Feel Like Blogging This Month<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvL5znEAvVKT4NNRbIDrS1rot4r1dwoi6_heWXIZ64p5mTkqehRDvkr4ZYwE_izGQfqnz28X0tuEg18q7OFlkKD8KzPPbi-wdURXmckG2tmH7kpBkcQb3i21pMBeMmC2rItOmk/s1600/michellechen_mikeypiliero.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvL5znEAvVKT4NNRbIDrS1rot4r1dwoi6_heWXIZ64p5mTkqehRDvkr4ZYwE_izGQfqnz28X0tuEg18q7OFlkKD8KzPPbi-wdURXmckG2tmH7kpBkcQb3i21pMBeMmC2rItOmk/s320/michellechen_mikeypiliero.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><b>I take full credit for downloading this picture from<br /><a href="http://www.mikeypiliero.com/an-hour-with-michelle-chen">http://www.mikeypiliero.com/an-hour-with-michelle-chen</a></b></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Yeah, the title says it all.<br />
<br />
Too much on my mind. Too few words.<br />
<br />
So, you shall have to suffice with these two dumb videos I decided to make on a pitiful Friday night at home:<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/dbdCgdB1hck" width="420"></iframe><br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Vhu2UDke53E" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
P.S. I always wanted to blog about this movie (You Are The Apple Of My Eye / <span class="st">那些年,我們一起追的女孩) but grew reluctant when I saw how much has already been said and written about it. Yeah, I'm weird that way.<br /><br />I'll come clean here though.<br /><br />I actually watched it FOUR times in the cinema (twice by myself).<br /><br />I was at one point VERY fascinated with Michelle Chen, the movie's lead actress. I am especially interested in how she studied in the US, came back to Taiwan, decided to become an actress at a rather late age and suddenly shot to stardom.<br /><br />I am also fascinated with Giddens Ko, the director and author of the autobiographical book it's based on. Inspired by his courage, honesty and ability to tell an age-old tale in a refreshing way.<br /><br /> All in all, it's the story I wish I wrote. In case you haven't noticed, I've always been a great fan of school-themed and romance stories. Okay, so I suck at writing romance stories. But still. <br /></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij-Adx210qgydAZ5WtPPQiBlFTJIEcaQjRqCflL4v6pnGDJQOpP32j3ms9BadE-Q8pBgcL0eIfMfQPNLJCvZwTDuDNiFC0gXyabil1AVQ49zZQlTib_y0xFk_qrIjzFmM2QHJI/s1600/you-are-the-apple-of-my-eye-02.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij-Adx210qgydAZ5WtPPQiBlFTJIEcaQjRqCflL4v6pnGDJQOpP32j3ms9BadE-Q8pBgcL0eIfMfQPNLJCvZwTDuDNiFC0gXyabil1AVQ49zZQlTib_y0xFk_qrIjzFmM2QHJI/s320/you-are-the-apple-of-my-eye-02.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><i>One
of my favourite scenes in the movie, when the gang all graduate from
high school and go their separate ways. Naively and adorably he tells
her to not to fall for other guys in university.<br />That was so 2003 for
me! </i></b></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-11596983854397942772012-04-13T00:56:00.000+08:002012-10-30T10:45:27.365+08:00Think About His Love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnPejn2qJrhqLKWR1-nXHLeW5anqUzhqkktOV-4Nvf0VkQgV7u9RdJJIxla54UuNR8552IfTvYUq8UT_-RxMJcCjHsbeax4Uru26YKF1jkYrRjogeUUsiFtp3GoK4QqGzX3iN_/s1600/goodfriday_background.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnPejn2qJrhqLKWR1-nXHLeW5anqUzhqkktOV-4Nvf0VkQgV7u9RdJJIxla54UuNR8552IfTvYUq8UT_-RxMJcCjHsbeax4Uru26YKF1jkYrRjogeUUsiFtp3GoK4QqGzX3iN_/s320/goodfriday_background.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
On 5th April 2012, at the stroke of 5.06pm, I tweeted to the world:</div>
<br />
<b><i>It is finished.</i></b><br />
<br />
It was a reference to Jesus' utterance as he died on the cross (John 19:30), as well as sheer relief at completing my biggest film-making project yet.<br />
<br />
What was it? It was somewhat of a dream come true - a short film for my church's Good Friday service this year. Instead of routine sketches or song performances, I boldly suggested that this year we should try doing a short film because:<br />
a) It would be something new.<br />
b) We would be able to easily view it again and share with others.<br />
c) It would allow participation even from people who couldn't attend or weren't free for rehearsals.<br />
<br />
And because the Youth Department was in charge of the service this year, I could make it happen!<br />
<br />
And happen it did. The theme was something very close to my heart - restoring passion to a jaded, going-through-the-motions church. In a divinely inspired moment, it occurred to base it on the church of Laodicea mentioned in Revelation (the last book of the Bible). <br />
<br />
<b><i><span class="text Rev-3-14"><span class="woj">“To the angel of the church in Laodicea write:</span></span></i></b><br />
<div class="left-1 child-first-line-1">
<div class="top-05">
<b><i><span class="text Rev-3-14"><span class="woj">These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God’s creation. </span></span><span class="text Rev-3-15" id="en-NIV-30762"><span class="woj">I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other!</span></span> <span class="text Rev-3-16" id="en-NIV-30763"><span class="woj">So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.</span></span> <span class="text Rev-3-17" id="en-NIV-30764"><span class="woj">You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.</span></span><span class="text Rev-3-18" id="en-NIV-30765"><span class="woj"></span></span></i></b></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><b>Revelation 3:14-17</b></i></div>
<br />
At that time though, I wasn't sure how to execute it. It felt more like a theme for the service. I pictured welcoming the congregation to this mock church called 'Lao' ('old' in Chinese) Church and mimic the lukewarm Laodiceans in our service. But that was definitely too radical. <br />
<br />
True to my style, the idea was put on hold until time drew too close and we <i>had</i> to start shooting. I was still toying with another script idea focusing on a girl who stopped attending church. But, nah...I stuck to the original Lao Church plot and centred it around them organising a Good Friday service - a case of art imitating life? I've actually always been a fan of plots building up to an event climax. They generally make the story faster-paced and more suspenseful.<br />
<br />
One week before shooting, I sat down and went through the script with the talented Miss Evie who was doubling as assistant director and lead actress. I watched in awe as she instantly made some very practical improvements, plus providing me with a much better ending. I think that was when I started to fall in love with...the art of film-making. Period.<br />
<br />
Shooting took place over one weekend, albeit quite rushed. I was extremely blessed to also have the help of Ju Yuan, another brilliant director/cinematographer. All I needed to do was brief the actors on their lines, briefly describe the scene and...voila! Magic would take place. <br />
<br />
Editing took much longer than anything I had ever experienced. Mostly because my aging laptop was very, very slow. I could only move two frames before waiting one minute for it to load. For more than a week, editing became a round-the-clock obsession. Sometimes even I scared myself with my enthusiasm.<br />
<br />
Scene by scene I pieced it together, replaying anything I had completed countless times to spot any flaws. I just couldn't wait for the whole thing to be completed. Even the subtitles were created using a special software that enabled outlines around them. Previously with Windows Movie Maker, they tended to fade into the background when it wasn't contrasted enough. A masterpiece in the making, baybeh!<br />
<br />
After the service, we received oodles of good feedback regarding the short film. It was funny, meaningful, touching, stirring, brilliant all at once! I was super proud of it, by far my most complete work of art.<br />
<br />
So imagine my disappointed when I was informed that due to certain reasons, I could not upload the short film, its trailer or bloopers video onto Youtube. <br />
<br />
Sigh.<br />
<br />
I did pour in many, many hours into it. So it's understandable that I'm miffed.<br />
<br />
I guess it's a good lesson in humility and submission for me. I'll never forget some lessons in my past when I secretly and selfishly disobeyed some people. When I was eventually outed, I paid very heavy prices.<br />
<br />
"Don't worry," I tell myself. "You'll get to do bigger and better productions in the future! This will be nothing compared to those. Use your gifts to bless others, not to build up your own kingdom!"<br />
<br />
All rightey then!<br />
<br />
For now, you can drop me a comment if you want to watch the short film.<br />
<br />
<b>"Think About His Love"</b><br />
<i>A comfortable church.<br />A spirited girl.<br />A celebration for the ages.<br />For Carmen and her church, Good Friday 2012 was one day that they would never forget.</i>mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-22616670860090585722012-03-20T16:14:00.004+08:002012-03-20T16:44:46.206+08:00Remake<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR29SuS5aY4NDTvGp9ezTPLxVVEueb1UAOqN2AhknWXfckhdxYffysFBKTd4dxZJXCOj91ucIlR00xQu6Kv6EuiDFPMK_epjv94bCimKa8-7seCYkHjaUKDLozTDwz1dOh2gNq/s1600/dotaleaver.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR29SuS5aY4NDTvGp9ezTPLxVVEueb1UAOqN2AhknWXfckhdxYffysFBKTd4dxZJXCOj91ucIlR00xQu6Kv6EuiDFPMK_epjv94bCimKa8-7seCYkHjaUKDLozTDwz1dOh2gNq/s400/dotaleaver.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<b><i>Player 2 has left the game.<br />You have been granted control of Player 2's units.</i></b><br />
<br />
"NOOOOOOOB!"<br />
"WAHLAU!"<br />
And cue a flurry of cusses that would make a sailor blush.<br />
<br />
"Eh, leave lah. How to play already."<br />
"Yaya, don't waste time."<br />
<br />
Alt.<br />
Q.<br />
Q.<br />
Join new game. Change name if necessary.<br />
<br />
Ta-da! New game, new players, new battle, new hope.<br />
<br />
No matter how messed up that old game was, it's all in the past. It doesn't matter anymore.<br />
<br />
Can I live in the World of Warcraft? Please.mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-33691357827091279612012-02-29T16:59:00.000+08:002012-03-20T17:04:35.293+08:00Strange<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9q0b4ZNCNFRgcePxSav-fPxIp8OEfbWHe1NMRRHfF3G2WVwPrPmTd4sDAXfZ5ZtVF2AoKiX2bE6p6vShZoeCf48hHz9caYDTQupjlFd04ZNL_TPV_LQN4xrjNg6kMlPCLiQxL/s1600/strange.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9q0b4ZNCNFRgcePxSav-fPxIp8OEfbWHe1NMRRHfF3G2WVwPrPmTd4sDAXfZ5ZtVF2AoKiX2bE6p6vShZoeCf48hHz9caYDTQupjlFd04ZNL_TPV_LQN4xrjNg6kMlPCLiQxL/s320/strange.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I'm not supposed to exist.<br />
<br />I'm an accident. A mistake.<br />
<br />
Nobody likes me.<br />
<br />
They talk about me when they see me, but as though I'm some sort of problem that needs fixing.<br />
<br />
I know deep down, they wish that I was never born.<br />
<br />
I see through their oh-you're-so-specials and hey-he's-one-of-us-toos.<br />
<br />
Am I really, guys? Really?<br />
<br />
I hate it when you all pretend to love and celebrate me.<br />
<br />
When you try so hard to cater for my special needs.<br />
<br />
If I mattered, you would think of me at other times too right?<br />
<br />
Not only when I show up.<br />
<br />
Oh hey, he's here! Let's welcome him! He's our friend.<br />
<br />
Friend. Yeah, right.<br />
<br />
Can't you see? All I want is to fit in like anyone else.<br />
<br />
I don't want your kindness.<br />
<br />
I don't want to be treated specially.<br />
<br />
I just want to be normal.<br />
<br />
Just because I'm not always around doesn't make me weird.<br />
<br />
It's just so unfair.<br />
<br />
Stop talking about me. Stop giving me weird names. Stop making jokes. Stop publishing articles. Stop sharing on Facebook.<br />
<br />
Whatever you want to think about me after reading this, just stop.<br />
<br />
Don't think. I am <i>me.</i><br />
<br />
Just let me have my 24 hours in peace.<br />
<br />
Yours truly,<br />
February 29mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-53630101762506308802012-02-28T16:22:00.000+08:002012-03-20T16:44:55.552+08:00The 3 Ps<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjNt7OD5SndcyDdrNekJIpF9vCJRrFxj229Jjh1UCxWgspi1c8u4pbalm1DQIVS24WYeLTxZujUcnYzJtgdoI66To8ubrmWUGmavAey6ktRLKw43EEec7sSqaWWuc0Uf1kMm9/s1600/threepeasgedditgeddit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUjNt7OD5SndcyDdrNekJIpF9vCJRrFxj229Jjh1UCxWgspi1c8u4pbalm1DQIVS24WYeLTxZujUcnYzJtgdoI66To8ubrmWUGmavAey6ktRLKw43EEec7sSqaWWuc0Uf1kMm9/s1600/threepeasgedditgeddit.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Threepeasgedditgeddit.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
At the end of last year, I shared with some dear friends on the 3 Ps for doing anything well.<br />
<br />
It was something that came to mind quite suddenly. But as I prepared it, I realised that it didn't come out of thin air. It was a cumulative result of things I learned during the course of working.<br />
<br />
Purpose: Knowing what you want.<br />
Planning: Knowing how to get it.<br />
Passion: Knowing you want it.<br />
<br />
<b>Purpose, Planning and Passion.</b><br />
<br />
Thank you.mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-17255081260004073262012-01-02T16:45:00.000+08:002012-01-18T00:11:16.851+08:00I'm Famous!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBwYomf2-FvjDnOFIUQdGGPqX7qHdBF_dAle5NMcW_wUtweo9OJe1QYh6ilP4TDAPRiFyKrsNslYWu8V31-sD-aD5BDdLnkDa_KUbkLx5FLDlQHGCTw3YuxYKvIkxuxX6fyuaq/s1600/9gag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: black;"></span><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBwYomf2-FvjDnOFIUQdGGPqX7qHdBF_dAle5NMcW_wUtweo9OJe1QYh6ilP4TDAPRiFyKrsNslYWu8V31-sD-aD5BDdLnkDa_KUbkLx5FLDlQHGCTw3YuxYKvIkxuxX6fyuaq/s640/9gag.jpg" width="304" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Me circled in red, with my signature cacat fingers and glasses.</i></span></div>
<br />
On 30th December 2011, I received word of a V for Vendetta-themed flash mob to be held at Dataran Merdeka on New Year's Eve. Basically, they were trying to re-enact the final scene of the movie complete with fireworks and all (fireworks supplied by the Malaysian government in conjunction with Konsert Ambang 2012 TV3). However instead of mysteriously shipping actual masks to homes, soft copies of the Guy Fawkes mask were distributed online for participants to print and cut out. Cool.<br />
<br />
And oh, of course there was a purpose to this event. Themed 'Occupy Dataran' (let's just pick one reference and stick with it shall we, organisers?), it was a sneaky protest against the recent Peaceful Assemblies Act and increasingly blatant instances of corruption as the General Elections loomed. <br />
<br />
So yeah...I shall spare the details. Suffice to say, it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Awesomest moment ever: when the protesters started appearing one by one at the designated time and place with their concealed masks, amid the sea of countdowners. And then a bright yellow balloon with 'Mature Democracy For Malaysia 2012' beckoning us to follow. That's definitely one off the bucket list.<br />
<br />
V For Merdeka indeed!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBwYomf2-FvjDnOFIUQdGGPqX7qHdBF_dAle5NMcW_wUtweo9OJe1QYh6ilP4TDAPRiFyKrsNslYWu8V31-sD-aD5BDdLnkDa_KUbkLx5FLDlQHGCTw3YuxYKvIkxuxX6fyuaq/s1600/9gag.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/7WSG3cDgkvs" width="420"></iframe></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBwYomf2-FvjDnOFIUQdGGPqX7qHdBF_dAle5NMcW_wUtweo9OJe1QYh6ilP4TDAPRiFyKrsNslYWu8V31-sD-aD5BDdLnkDa_KUbkLx5FLDlQHGCTw3YuxYKvIkxuxX6fyuaq/s1600/9gag.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>
I appear in the first few seconds of the video, in a black 'WORLD WITHOUT STRANGERS' T-shirt. You can't miss me.</i></span>mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-74475635300343626842011-12-27T12:07:00.000+08:002012-07-30T11:19:53.965+08:00Relearning To Write<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheWsTnJYQQfxnw-T1hqqlDBIvdXpRPXXoBIiZahlgPm__NNfIjhvpWLL7Sck3Igc-mkR8wd7fd4glWPpdWL9C-vU8P_zlU1ygx7VNzvnw1TlbwSF0tDsTOruAKLJ4fEfPaOFvv/s1600/writing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheWsTnJYQQfxnw-T1hqqlDBIvdXpRPXXoBIiZahlgPm__NNfIjhvpWLL7Sck3Igc-mkR8wd7fd4glWPpdWL9C-vU8P_zlU1ygx7VNzvnw1TlbwSF0tDsTOruAKLJ4fEfPaOFvv/s320/writing.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
It's been over 7 full years since Twisted Tales came to life.<br />
<br />
Back in October 2004, it was just a silly impulsion to start a blog. If I could go back in time, the first thing I would tell my 19 year-old self would be to choose a less embarrassing name. <br />
<br />
Though I love the whole concept of keeping journals, I've always been pretty bad at it. I don't even have proper photo albums apart from friends tagging me on Facebook. Rather than apathy, I attribute it all to laziness.<br />
<br />
Should I die tomorrow, or with the rest of the world on Dec 21 next year, Twisted Tales will have to suffice as the most accurate and comprehensive life journal that I possess. Sometimes on still nights such as this, I comb through the archives and relive the different seasons life has taken me through. Though my blog consists almost entirely of fiction, I am able to clearly see in each story the circumstances that compelled me to write it then.<br />
<br />
When I started my first story in 2004, it didn't even have a name. I naively envisioned an interactive blog where readers would contribute ideas as I wrote, making the story flourish organically. Unfortunately, I possessed neither the writing flair nor social connections for this to materialise. Eventually, the story became a boyish man-versus-machine fantasy that wouldn't be out of place at a Digimon fanfic collection. It was entitled 'Blogspot'.<br />
<br />
After that came 'The Secret Room' which was actually an expansion of a story in a book I wrote for someone many years ago. It still fell strictly within my limited repertoire of 'clueless boys trapped seeking for answer to perplexing mystery leading to twisted conclusion' stories. Something notable about this period though - I averaged about two posts every three days. Craziness. I can never imagine getting back into that sort of blogging regularity now, even if I quit my job.<br />
<br />
One season I particularly remember is late 2008 to early 2009, when I ditched the wannabe adventure tales and started writing simple stories that spoke of dreams, happiness and love (my favourite: <b><a href="http://twisted-tales.blogspot.com/2008/10/toll-gate-girls-special-ability_27.html">The Toll Gate Girl's Special Ability</a></b>). This was the latter stage of my working life in CC+J Adhaus (now Joescher+Adhaus), a time which I truly cherished and grew so much in. Of course, as with the best growing experiences, I came close to <b><a href="http://twisted-tales.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-life-is-mess.html">breaking point</a></b>. I bore <b><a href="http://twisted-tales.blogspot.com/2009/05/starbucks-story.html">so much</a> </b>on my shoulders and utterly refused to let anyone else into my life. Eventually, this load turned into emotional baggage that I sometimes still catch glimpses of in myself today. <br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBdyGjp_fa4Lhyok_uRgqlqRnF4RcT-WHM_gCpLtfKdAB50nfTu3xoXMFBGH4xcnR73Ytktb_9sUDc06vmVecnAKpXeTRQpYpzY61t9nMffoygU6__-cbxvGTDjgYAuu-KUjR5/s1600/dreams+on+paper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBdyGjp_fa4Lhyok_uRgqlqRnF4RcT-WHM_gCpLtfKdAB50nfTu3xoXMFBGH4xcnR73Ytktb_9sUDc06vmVecnAKpXeTRQpYpzY61t9nMffoygU6__-cbxvGTDjgYAuu-KUjR5/s320/dreams+on+paper.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0c3hQ5sFyGPVawz5zKaYDyjFEzE7PDtNi3SjAVcPrO0YY8yCxt6oYsY44XmC1KoisCMsqHyJaJxhSmOjOq1KbVLOeaWJx8B3FG7u2y44EONovOYAkrhQp3QHLGdzPauj132Ye/s1600/wedding.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVROzs-2T6-PbA4hcQNyeO9HZiksCSldbBG4dt5O7pM5hyphenhyphensh7PXbyZuom83Gc6gbQlnu5y6VkSSHd8__STdYOaMRv9Crk8qFjIwELYPrHf1F2LU_24aei_TdTgfS3ZfOQyKk8t/s1600/dimsum.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVROzs-2T6-PbA4hcQNyeO9HZiksCSldbBG4dt5O7pM5hyphenhyphensh7PXbyZuom83Gc6gbQlnu5y6VkSSHd8__STdYOaMRv9Crk8qFjIwELYPrHf1F2LU_24aei_TdTgfS3ZfOQyKk8t/s320/dimsum.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipivnYrPbbnBgu_7MPQU0P9Ju420K6WQmVrdPoeWS4J0x91DlI7xTJqn1-Zxg_zpAxk2790E9ZoyyqoH9Qte-tjBldsckODp_OGoG8zXIypVIOQ9CSBlQU7BiD218F8Zws7aBH/s1600/willyoumarryme.jpg"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipivnYrPbbnBgu_7MPQU0P9Ju420K6WQmVrdPoeWS4J0x91DlI7xTJqn1-Zxg_zpAxk2790E9ZoyyqoH9Qte-tjBldsckODp_OGoG8zXIypVIOQ9CSBlQU7BiD218F8Zws7aBH/s320/willyoumarryme.jpg" width="252" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Around this time, I also started designing fancy 'covers' for my stories - a fun but ultimately pointless endeavour.</i></span><br />
<br />
2010 was a good year too, as I churned out quite a number of good stories. I guess I was increasingly losing passion in my job and harbouring serious ambitions of becoming a writer. Some might even recall the <b><a href="http://twisted-tales.blogspot.com/2010/05/first-email-of-morning.html">email</a></b> I sent to the Publisher Who Shall Not Be Named. Looking back at my submission, I'm thankful that they did not just reply my email with "LOL". <br />
<br />
And now at the end of 2011, I don't feel like I have a lot to show for this year. I mean...13 posts? And most of them aren't even stories. <br />
<br />
Maybe, just maybe, the time of fiction has passed in my life. In the past, I enjoyed hiding behind the facade of make-believe stories. Whenever I wanted to convey a message, I never needed to be specific. All I needed to do was sprinkle some wise-sounding words over generic characters in a preconceived scenario and <i>voila!</i> A story was born. <br />
<br />
Yes, I wrote well but my stories always lacked <i>heart</i>. That's because they never came from my heart in the first place. They came from my mind.<br />
<br />
I was never honest with my stories. Sometimes they feel like lies and half-truths.<br />
<br />
I was afraid of my feelings, my experiences, <i>myself.</i><br />
<br />
When you write from the heart, it really, really shows. <br />
<br />
So...do we have a new year's resolution here? I hereby promise to write with more honesty and sincerity. Ultimately, I still love stories. But I no longer want soulless, twisted tales.<br />
<br />
Give me more of Life, One Story At A Time please. :)mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8817387.post-4567695047521004892011-11-29T19:37:00.001+08:002011-12-04T08:35:45.709+08:00It's VBS Once More<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><br />Day 1</b><br />
"Teacher, do you have any other scripts?"<br />
<br />
I stared at her, indignant.<br />
<br />
"This one seems kind of boring."<br />
<br />
<i>Boring.</i> That one innocuous word pierced deep, unearthing a newfound fear that she could, despite being a little brat who knew no better, be right. <br />
<br />
"It'll be awesome after we practise, I promise you. The best thing <i>ever</i> seen on that stage. At the end of it all, the crowd will go wild and cheer for us."<br />
<br />
Like any well-behaved kid should, she said nothing more.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, unknowingly, she had opened a can of worms and they were squiggling out of control. How dare she use <i>that</i> word on me. I've heard weird, lame, crazy - but not boring. I don't do boring.<br />
<br />
"You know, many people told me that this script might be too hard for you guys. But I believe in all of you. I believe that you guys can make this one of the best VBS performances ever."<br />
<br />
"Nooooo...no teacher...we can't."<br />
<br />
"Ugh. If even you don't believe in yourselves, how can I believe in you?" I spouted the obvious cliche.<br />
<br />
"Yeah...don't believe in us teacher."<br />
<br />
Double ugh.<br />
<br />
Quickly I ran the actors - if you could even call them that - through their parts. It was a lot worse than I was used to. These weren't teens. They weren't even half-teens. They were kids. Kids who wanted nothing more than to chase each other, toss balls around, lie on the floor, ask dumb questions and disappear into the hall.<br />
<br />
Halfway through, the main actress S didn't want to act anymore. Her last straw came during a scene where they had to pretend to be in love. All the kids wanted to express it by 'SMSing'. No, I said. Only one can do that. I want variety.<br />
<br />
OK, we'll talk on the phone then, they went. I slapped my forehead and attempted suicide.<br />
<br />
"So do you still want to act or not?" I raised my voice somewhat. "It's not going to be easy. I never told any of you it's going to be easy. Anyone who doesn't want to act can change to the other show now."<br />
<br />
(Earlier on, the kids were given a choice to take part in the sketch or a fashion show. Sketch was the overwhelming favourite.)<br />
<br />
To cut a long story short, we swapped S for another girl A who became the new main actress. Personally, I felt A was a lot more main actress calibre.<br />
<br />
I might have been exercising my authority, but underneath I was shaking like a leaf. This could be the year I bit off more than I could chew.<br />
<br />
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<br />
<b>Day 2</b><br />
The guy who was supposed to play Jesus was ill and didn't come. <br />
<br />
The speakers I borrowed to play the music during practice weren't loud enough.<br />
<br />
The actors were still half-hearted at best.<br />
<br />
A's brother watched us and remarked, "Looks like this isn't going too well."<br />
<br />
Nearing the end of practice, one of the actresses just refused to act. In that scene, they had to all die. She didn't want to. I told her that she could just sit down and close her eyes. She ran off and hid. When we found her, all she did was shake her head and say "I don't want to die." I committed mental harakiri again.<br />
<br />
And I still had no idea where to look for props.<br />
<b><br />Day 3, Morning</b><br />
30 minutes. That was all that stood between us and the full dress rehearsal. Obviously it wasn't going to be full dress for us, as we had barely begun looking for props and costumes.<br />
<br />
Ghosts of VBS past started running through my mind. Tian Mi Mi, David Beckham, Snow Brown and the Seven Lengluis. Did this group deserve a place among those greats?<br />
<br />
Frantically - only for me, I guess - we rehearsed as much as we could in those 25 minutes (the first 5 minutes spent looking for a new ball after two boys tossed the original ball down the balcony). This time round, it was a lot better. They were starting to become as urgent as I was.<br />
<br />
<i>Rrrrrring!</i> Time for rehearsal. Too soon for my liking of course, but I rest assured that we had done our very best with all we had.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to X amount of minutes later, and we were next. <br />
<br />
"Go get 'em, tigers!" I imagined myself saying to them.<br />
<br />
<b>Day 3, Afternoon</b><br />
"Hey," one of the Fashion Show kids called out to me. "You told us that they would clap at the end. But they clapped for me!"<i><br /><br />Whatever, </i>I rolled my mind's eye.<i><br /><br />Was it good? Was it bad? <br /><br />There were some parts that were reeeeeally long and draggy.</i><br />
<i><br />It's not your fault. People will either love or hate performances like these.</i><br />
<br />
"You know," my class co-teacher interrupted my thoughts. "For three days, I had no idea what your sketch was about."<br />
<br />
<i>Sure, sure. Let it out.</i><br />
<br />
"But today after seeing it, I finally got it. I was very touched when I saw it just now."<br />
<br />
"Oh, really? Thank you so much!"<br />
<br />
I broke down and hugged him. In my mind.<br />
<br />
The performance got mixed reviews, though mostly positive. Unfortunately, someone even asked if I was okay as they had never seen such a B-O-R-I-N-G sketch from me before. This person genuinely asked me if I was going through personal issues and needed help.<br />
<br />
Despite the other optimistic feedback, this was the only one I could focus on for the entire day. I'm just that way.<br />
<br />
Driven, I listed down six areas that were needed to improve the sketch:<br />
1) Make the whole thing more concise - remove some scenes, shorten some others<br />
2) Add more variety to the songs<br />
3) Choreograph and rehearse the final scene<br />
4) Improve the slides design (since what was going on onstage wasn't that visually interesting)<br />
5) Make certain scenes clearer with the help of subtitles on slides<br />
6) Finalise the props and costumes (this was eventually done with the help of a surprisingly talented girl M)<br />
<br />
All right. Time to rock...<br />
<br />
<b>Day 4</b><br />
...and roll.<br />
<br />
I woke up the next morning, realising I had not finished the slides. <br />
<br />
Thankfully, it was VBS Carnival Day and I could afford to reach later. And very much later I did reach - 9.20am.<br />
<br />
But would we have time to rehearse?<br />
<br />
No way, tosai.<br />
<br />
The kids were coming with their parents and it would be very hard to peel them off. Moreso, I had no idea where they would be in the crowd. Once I found one, asked him to stay and went to look for the others that first one would wander off. It was like looking for sheep in a haystack. Or needles on a seashore. You get the point.<br />
<br />
I met a pair of girls and asked them to wait at the balcony, as I tried locating the rest. Nope. Nothing.<br />
<br />
Finally, I decided to rehearse with them one by one. As I pulled one boy to the side, suddenly a pair of girly voices called out to me from above. <br />
<br />
"Teacher! Teacher!"<br />
<br />
Lo and behold! Most of the main students were there on the balcony waiting for me. I couldn't believe my eyes - it was as though someone had Ctrl + Selected and dragged them all into a folder.<br />
<br />
Eagerly I scampered up and commenced the Final Rehearsal.<br />
<br />
<b>Day 4, Showtime</b><br />
Now the kids were serious. I could see it in their eyes. They were taking ownership of their roles, their props, their performance. This wasn't something I forced upon them any longer, it was theirs.<br />
<br />
I told them something about not having faith in them at first, but now truly believing in them. Let's go out there and make history, I said. I don't think any of them bought it. We finished with a prayer together.<br />
<br />
And...our turn!<br />
<br />
Neatly the 6 main actors stood in a line, too far behind the stage. I motioned for them to come further out. <br />
<br />
Walking with a swagger back to the computer, I did some crappy intro that nobody listened to, clicked play and let the show begin. I'd been here before. The same breathlessness and staring eyes. The same frozen expressions on the actors, as it dawned on them how big the moment really was. VBS magic was about to be made.<br />
<br />
<insert performance="" video=""><b><i><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/PS9FDBkGxmE" width="420"></iframe></i></b><br /><br />At the end, the crowd clapped.<br /><br /><b>Day 4, After Showtime</b><br />"Bravo! Bravo!" I applauded and slapped high fives with them. "That was awesome, and I mean it."<br /><br />They whooped for joy and returned their props to me, glad it was all over.<br /><br />Slowly I packed the stuff, went downstairs and stared at them trying out the carnival games.<br /><br />That was it, kiddos, I wanted to tell them. We did it together. They said we couldn't, but we showed them. They'll be talking about us for years to come.<br /><br />Someone asked me for a ride home. I gladly obliged.<br /><br /><b>Day 5</b><br />I jolted awake at 6am, way too early for church. I tried going back to sleep but couldn't. <br /><br />Oh well. I brushed my teeth, made a cup of Pak Hailam white coffee and turned on the computer.<br /><br />Instinctively, I played the performance songs on loop while numbing my brain with Tetris Battle. A sip of coffee every now and then lent a little class to the whole scene.<br /><br />As the sun's slight rays began flitting through the trees, that was my little slice of heaven.<br /><br />All was well with my heart.</insert>mOkKiEshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07008777368879823657noreply@blogger.com0