Young man, Why are you so angry? Why are you quick to speak, slow to listen? Why are you filled daily with harshness and curses?
Young man, Why are you in such a hurry? Why are you running from one accomplishment to another? Why are you making those around you run just as fast?
Young man, Why are you so ambitious? Why do you wish to amass riches beyond compare? Why do you wish to lord over the rest of the world?
Young man, Why are you so proud? Why do you fall in love so easily with all you have done? Why do you take pleasure in belittling those who are lesser?
Young man, Why are you so reckless? Why do you flirt with the dangers and temptations of this world? Why do you desire to experience foolishness for yourself first?
Young man, I'm sorry I scolded you for being too playful for my liking. I'm sorry I was too busy to play silly ball games with you. I'm sorry I worked too hard to give us a supposed better life. I'm sorry I mocked your drawings and forced you to become me. I'm sorry I disregarded all sound advice and paid with my body.
Young man, Please stay a while And listen to me.
Young man, Don't go, I beg you Listen to this old man.
My Youtube channel pic since 2006, taken in 2002. Not sure if things have changed since then.
I love creating and telling stories. Always have, always will.
However, stories are mere souls. They need a body to reside in - the medium.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Ah...I love and miss making short films!
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.
2008: No Apologies: The Truth About Love, Life & Sex
Ep 1: 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.
Ep 2: 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.
Ep 3: 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.
Ep 4: 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!
2009: Escape
Ep 1: 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 (The Dark Knight and Joker were still very much in fashion then). Several test shots later, a cool new video came into being.
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 Jaws, and a classic was born.
The campy first cut was eventually seen again in the bloopers video.
Ep 2: 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.
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.
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.
Ep 3: 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'.
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 sukan pants.
Bloopers: The aforementioned fiasco and more that followed. It's actually not that funny.
2010: The Pursuit Of Happiness
Ep 1: 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 District 9-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.
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.
Ep 2: 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.
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.
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.
Ep 3: 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.
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.
After much hassle, yay! We finally got our shot. And the Curse of Jhow Weh's Phone struck again.
Without any reason, the file became CORRUPTED. ROSAK. KAPUT. Like...what??!
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.
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. :)
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.
2011: Unplug
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.
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.
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.
And...that's all, folks! More new memories soon, I hope?
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
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.
March 4, 2053
Chong Wei stepped into the hospital room, somewhat hesitant.
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.
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.
With much effort, Lin Dan turned his face to Chong Wei and smiled.
My greatest adversary,
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.
The Thomas Cups. The World Championships. The Super Series. The Opens.
The Olympics.
To
be more precise, the 2016 Rio Olympics. The defining moment when Chong
Wei etched his place in sporting folklore for eternity.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Mistake. It went short. The Malaysian supporters went wild, begging Chong Wei to not let history repeat.
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.
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.
And that was it. Chong Wei, at third time trying, had finally delivered Malaysia's first Olympics gold medal.
In a cheeky move, he peeled off his shirt and posed with a less impressive body.
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.
Now here he lay, old and dying. It was very strange and scary all at once.
Lin tugged at Chong Wei, motioning for him to come closer.
"My friend." Chong Wei tried not to let his voice break.
Lin pulled Chong Wei even closer, trying to speak into his ear.
"Yes?"
"Y...you beat me. At the Olympics." came the hoarse whisper.
"It was a good game, my friend."
Lin nodded, his breathing growing more laboured by the second.
"You beat me...because I let you."
What?
"I didn't...want you...to be sad."
And Lin Dan breathed his last. Still smiling. Still defiant. Still brutally truthful.
Hui Jia woke up, trying to make out his surroundings.
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.
"I'm having a birthday party at my place this Saturday. You wanna come over?"
"I'll need to ask my mother first."
"Adoi, mother mother. OK lah, you let me know asap kay?"
"Asap?"
"You dunno what asap means ah? As swift as possible lah..."
"Oh, okay. Then I'll let you know...asap."
"Make sure you come kay." Kevin leaned closer with a smirk. "The girls are coming also."
*****
"Ma, please! It's just a few hours."
"I know. But who's going to take care of the house while I'm away?"
"Why are you going to Aunt Mabel's house again?"
"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!"
"Don't you dare! I have tonnes of homework!"
"Good! Then you can stay home to finish them."
"Maaaaaaaa...please, please. I'll be home early I promise. Once they finish, I'll leave."
She gazed at him, half relenting.
"Pleeeeeease. I've never been to a party ever."
"What time will you be back?"
"Ten o' clock. Sharp."
"You said it, okay?"
"Yes, promise."
"Okay then."
"Yes!" he pumped his fist in the air. "You're the best, ma!"
All she could do was smile.
*****
"All right, who's game for the next round?" Kevin held up a precious free controller.
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.
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.
"Hey," someone called out to him. "Your phone's ringing."
Drat! He quickly glanced at the living hall clock. Nine fifty.
Of course, it had to be his mother.
"Hello?" he tried his best to sound proper.
"Ah Jia, are you still at the party?"
"Uh, yah. But leaving soon!"
"Okay, good."
She then proceeded to utter the best sentence in the universe.
"I'll be home later, we've still got quite a lot to do."
"Oh."
"Your friend will be fetching you home right?"
"Yup."
"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."
"Okay, ma."
"Okay, bye."
End of conversation.
And the start of Need For Speed: Most Wanted!
"I'm in!" he grabbed the controller and pressed Start. To be continued.
"Here." He raised his hand half-heartedly and quickly turned his gaze back outside.
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.
True enough, trouble dogged him. Most of the boys teased him to no end, incorporating his name into every sentence they conversed in.
"Hey, what time you hui jia today?"
"Haiya, you don't talk so much...you hui jia lah!"
"Where's your homework? Hui jia already?"
Even the teachers chipped in, often complete with a hateful face of look-at-me-i'm-so-witty!.
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.
*****
"Ah Jia! Get off your computer! Come eat dinner now."
Hui Jia slipped on his earphones, pretending not to hear.
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.
"HEY! I said turn off your computer!"
He glared at her before saving his game to shut down the computer.
*****
"Eat your beansprouts," she scooped an oversized pile into his bowl.
"Ugh."
"They're good for you."
He picked them up with his chopsticks, strand by strand, studying them carefully.
"Ma, why is my name Hui Jia?"
"How many times do you want to ask me? Did someone in school tease you again?"
He put down his chopsticks crossly. "What do you think?"
"Watch your manners. What's wrong with your name? Isn't it nice?"
"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!"
She pursed her lips, allowing for an uncomfortable pause. "How about your mother? Do you want to change your mother as well?"
"When did I ever say that?"
"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."
There was no winning. He mouthed whatever, stuffing the horrid beansprouts in.
If I could turn the World Wide Web back to a time in its history, it would be 2003.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 media. Somewhere, we have traded our emotions for emoticons.
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.
If Facebook introduced testimonials today, would they still work?
Probably yes. But only if they were limited to 140 characters.
Here's the Friendster, and a time when the Internet brought us all closer.
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. :(
There's gonna be a revival in the land,
There's gonna be a revival in the laaaand.
From the north! (NORTH!)
To the south! (SOUTH!)
To the east, and the wehhhhh-st.
There's gonna be a revival (HEY HEY!)
There's gonna be a revival (HEY HEY!)
There's gonna be a revival in the land!
I actually watched it FOUR times in the cinema (twice by myself).
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.
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.
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.
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. That was so 2003 for
me!
On 5th April 2012, at the stroke of 5.06pm, I tweeted to the world:
It is finished.
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.
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:
a) It would be something new.
b) We would be able to easily view it again and share with others.
c) It would allow participation even from people who couldn't attend or weren't free for rehearsals.
And because the Youth Department was in charge of the service this year, I could make it happen!
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).
“To the angel of the church in Laodicea write:
These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God’s creation. I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other!So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.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.
Revelation 3:14-17
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.
True to my style, the idea was put on hold until time drew too close and we had 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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
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.
Sigh.
I did pour in many, many hours into it. So it's understandable that I'm miffed.
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.
"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!"
All rightey then!
For now, you can drop me a comment if you want to watch the short film.
"Think About His Love" A comfortable church. A spirited girl. A celebration for the ages. For Carmen and her church, Good Friday 2012 was one day that they would never forget.
At the end of last year, I shared with some dear friends on the 3 Ps for doing anything well.
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.
Purpose: Knowing what you want.
Planning: Knowing how to get it.
Passion: Knowing you want it.
Me circled in red, with my signature cacat fingers and glasses.
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.
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.
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.
V For Merdeka indeed!
I appear in the first few seconds of the video, in a black 'WORLD WITHOUT STRANGERS' T-shirt. You can't miss me.
It's been over 7 full years since Twisted Tales came to life.
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.
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.
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.
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'.
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.
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: The Toll Gate Girl's Special Ability). 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 breaking point. I bore so muchon 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.
Around this time, I also started designing fancy 'covers' for my stories - a fun but ultimately pointless endeavour.
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 email 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".
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.
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 voila! A story was born.
Yes, I wrote well but my stories always lacked heart. That's because they never came from my heart in the first place. They came from my mind.
I was never honest with my stories. Sometimes they feel like lies and half-truths.
I was afraid of my feelings, my experiences, myself.
When you write from the heart, it really, really shows.
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.
Give me more of Life, One Story At A Time please. :)
Boring. That one innocuous word pierced deep, unearthing a newfound fear that she could, despite being a little brat who knew no better, be right.
"It'll be awesome after we practise, I promise you. The best thing ever seen on that stage. At the end of it all, the crowd will go wild and cheer for us."
Like any well-behaved kid should, she said nothing more.
Unfortunately, unknowingly, she had opened a can of worms and they were squiggling out of control. How dare she use that word on me. I've heard weird, lame, crazy - but not boring. I don't do boring.
"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."
"Nooooo...no teacher...we can't."
"Ugh. If even you don't believe in yourselves, how can I believe in you?" I spouted the obvious cliche.
"Yeah...don't believe in us teacher."
Double ugh.
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.
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.
OK, we'll talk on the phone then, they went. I slapped my forehead and attempted suicide.
"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."
(Earlier on, the kids were given a choice to take part in the sketch or a fashion show. Sketch was the overwhelming favourite.)
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.
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.
Day 2
The guy who was supposed to play Jesus was ill and didn't come.
The speakers I borrowed to play the music during practice weren't loud enough.
The actors were still half-hearted at best.
A's brother watched us and remarked, "Looks like this isn't going too well."
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.
And I still had no idea where to look for props. Day 3, Morning
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.
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?
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.
Rrrrrring! 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.
Fast forward to X amount of minutes later, and we were next.
"Go get 'em, tigers!" I imagined myself saying to them.
Day 3, Afternoon
"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!"
Whatever, I rolled my mind's eye.
Was it good? Was it bad?
There were some parts that were reeeeeally long and draggy. It's not your fault. People will either love or hate performances like these.
"You know," my class co-teacher interrupted my thoughts. "For three days, I had no idea what your sketch was about."
Sure, sure. Let it out.
"But today after seeing it, I finally got it. I was very touched when I saw it just now."
"Oh, really? Thank you so much!"
I broke down and hugged him. In my mind.
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.
Despite the other optimistic feedback, this was the only one I could focus on for the entire day. I'm just that way.
Driven, I listed down six areas that were needed to improve the sketch:
1) Make the whole thing more concise - remove some scenes, shorten some others
2) Add more variety to the songs
3) Choreograph and rehearse the final scene
4) Improve the slides design (since what was going on onstage wasn't that visually interesting)
5) Make certain scenes clearer with the help of subtitles on slides
6) Finalise the props and costumes (this was eventually done with the help of a surprisingly talented girl M)
All right. Time to rock...
Day 4
...and roll.
I woke up the next morning, realising I had not finished the slides.
Thankfully, it was VBS Carnival Day and I could afford to reach later. And very much later I did reach - 9.20am.
But would we have time to rehearse?
No way, tosai.
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.
I met a pair of girls and asked them to wait at the balcony, as I tried locating the rest. Nope. Nothing.
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.
"Teacher! Teacher!"
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.
Eagerly I scampered up and commenced the Final Rehearsal.
Day 4, Showtime
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.
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.
And...our turn!
Neatly the 6 main actors stood in a line, too far behind the stage. I motioned for them to come further out.
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.
At the end, the crowd clapped.
Day 4, After Showtime "Bravo! Bravo!" I applauded and slapped high fives with them. "That was awesome, and I mean it."
They whooped for joy and returned their props to me, glad it was all over.
Slowly I packed the stuff, went downstairs and stared at them trying out the carnival games.
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.
Someone asked me for a ride home. I gladly obliged.
Day 5 I jolted awake at 6am, way too early for church. I tried going back to sleep but couldn't.
Oh well. I brushed my teeth, made a cup of Pak Hailam white coffee and turned on the computer.
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.
As the sun's slight rays began flitting through the trees, that was my little slice of heaven.
Purple T block. Shift all the way to the left, drop down.
Green S block. Rotate, shift two steps left, drop down.
Dark blue J block. Rotate, drop down.
Light blue I block. Shift to store.
Yellow O block. Shift three steps right, drop down.
Another I block!
*****
Fumbling, I hurriedly slammed my laptop shut and packed it.
I was late. Again.
For over a month now, I had been playing this Facebook game called Tetris Battle. It was simple - two players battling over a two-minute game of Tetris by sending lines to each other and scoring KOs.
As I grew more familiar to the game, what started as a midnight curiosity quickly sprouted into gnawing obsession. One aspect of this game made it particularly addictive - energy. For each game you played, you had to spend 5 Energy points which were recharged only at the rate of 1 per 5 minutes. Now if that's sending your brain into convulsions, each game requires 25 minutes of charging Energy. Hence, you were inclined to finish your Energy whenever possible so that it could charge while you were away. The games were a precious limited resource.
Evil. So, so evil.
Every morning, I would wake up and...
My energy! It's sitting there waiting for me!
Du-dung! My laptop came to life.
The game makes a very distinctive sound of rhythmic keyboard taps. Hence, my mum would know and suspect that I was playing games instead of, um, not playing games. The zombified look on my face didn't help, I guess.
Whenever she chided me or asked me to do something else, it would snap my focus and make me more prone to defeat. I couldn't help it - with the level of opposition I was facing, total concentration was needed.
It made me terribly annoyed at her, but yet there was nothing I could do. Only dumb kids quarreled with their parents over computer games.
So I did the next best thing. I started blasting songs from Youtube each
time I played. Among my favourites were Hillsong's 'Holy, Holy, Holy',
'It Is Well With My Soul' and 'Hosanna', Ah, yes. Nothing like using
Christian worship songs to fool your parents.
My best-ever record of Lines Sent.
Next, the inevitable occurred - I started seeing Tetris blocks everywhere. It was worst when I looked at people when talking to them. Without warning, multi-coloured blocks would drop down across their face, rotate quickly and fit into spaces. It was horrifying, as the person would just continue talking as though nothing was amiss. Many a time I wanted to grab his or her shoulders and scream, "What's wrong with you? CAN'T YOU FEEL TETRIS BLOCKS ON YOUR FACE?"
Sheesh. Maybe it was just me.
Some statistics to put things into perspective: Each Tetris Battle game lasts for 2 minutes. This excludes logging in, buying stuff from the shop, loading time while it searches for new opponents, and some way-too-long congratulatory screens that pop up after every game. So let's factor that in and assume each game to last 2 minutes and 10 seconds.
At the time of writing, I had played 1437 games. That totals up to 186,810 seconds. Which is 3113.5 minutes. Which is 51.9 hours. Which is 2 days, 3 hours and 54 minutes.
And that's not including the games I played on the fake account I created. What, a fake account you say? Let's leave that story for another day.
So wow...2 full days that could and should have been spent on something better. Like feeding the poor. Reading books. Exercising. Bonding with family members. Playing Restaurant City.
The craziest opponent I've ever encountered. Oh wait, there was this other guy who did T-spins EVERY 2 SECONDS. I'm not sure if that was just a nightmare or it really happened.
In case you're thinking that I lost my mind, I didn't. I was still a perfectly sane and rational person. That was the part of addiction that sucked most - you knew that it was a meaningless game, you knew exactly how dumb you were for throwing away your life, you knew what the right thing to do was, but yet you were utterly powerless to quit.
It was the same story over and over and over and over. If it was made into a movie, it would be the most boring movie ever. Play too much Tetris, suffer some consequence, vow to quit, get bored, play a little Tetris again, play too much Tetris. Rinse, wash and repeat. If I won, I wanted to play more since I was on a roll. If I lost, I wanted to play more to redeem myself. There was no other outcome.
Someone once told me that addiction is like boiling a live frog. The frog sits in cool water which slowly becomes lukewarm. As the water temperature slowly goes up, it becomes increasingly comfortable. It doesn't even notice that the water is being heated up, or is just too comfortable to care. Before you know it...stewed frog is served!
As I drove to my meeting in Bangsar, already 15 minutes late, I made a solemn oath to myself. No more. No more. I want no more of this. I'm smarter than this. It's false happiness being traded for lasting joy.
Tetris Battle, I'm done with you.
"We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and
ambition (and Tetris Battle?) when infinite joy is offered to us, like an ignorant child who
wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what
is meant by the offer of a holiday at sea. We are far too easily
pleased." - C.S Lewis
(Less than a week after this, the author comes out of Tetris Battle retirement, much to the delight of his adoring fans. However, he tries his best to not get carried away with maximising his energy and leveling up. After all, it's just a game right?)
Promo video with generic music and random shots of people having fun that doesn't concern you.
Note: While clearing my computer, I found this testimony I wrote for a Korean pastor about Life Game. And since we're still without a September post...hey, why not!
I first attended Life Game in 2007, having heard lots of great stories from my church friends who previously went for it. Being an avid fan of games of all sorts, it was a very exciting experience to be immersed into this whole new world. I recall how I attended the camp one day late, causing me to skip the whole education stage and start work as a high school dropout.
From there on, the game mirrored life perfectly – each time I thought that I had everything figured out, the unexpected would happen. When I planned my expenses to fit right into my plans, inflation came. When I thought I would lead a long and prosperous life, I died in an unfortunate ‘accident’. When I said to myself, “I know how this game is going to end”, a shocking twist happened.
The finale was so soul-stirring that I couldn’t help being shaken to the core. Yes, it was a very well-crafted game, story and experience, but beneath all that lay a powerful life-changing message. I learned to see how small our lofty ambitions were when held against God’s eternal plan. No matter how much we possessed or enjoyed, nothing was left once the game ended.
From my 2007 Life Game!
A friend of mine played the game extremely well. He aced all his exams, got a high-paying job, shot up the ranks of society and eventually accumulated multiple property lots. Of course, we all knew that it was a Christian game and somewhere down the road we would need to go to church. He believed that once he achieved his financial targets, he would then make time for church.
He never went.
At the end of the game, he was left only with nothing but regrets. No property, money or prestige. Only regrets.
And therein lies the beauty of Life Game – there are just so many lessons to be unearthed from it. Everyone who plays is bound to learn something unique to their own situation. In my second time playing, now wiser, I was taught the urgency of saving souls. As hard and as fast as I tried, there simply was not enough time nor workers. Eventually only a handful came to know God. The vast majority finished the game without hearing the gospel.
On the way home in the bus, many of these lost souls came up to me in jest, “Brother, why didn’t you save me?” I laughed them off, but deep down I prayed that this would never happen in real life. If I were to one day stand before the gates of heaven and look down, my unsaved friends and family members wouldn’t be asking me in jest. They would be screaming at me in accusation. Clawing and begging for a second chance. Weeping eternally at my selfishness.
Of course, these are only a handful of stories from one person’s perspective. Ask ten more and there will be dozens of other wonderful stories. You don’t have to wait till the end of your life to learn such amazing lessons. Life Game is a window from which you can peer into the rest of your days.
To whoever reads this, I hope that you can someday join Life Game as well and be blessed with your own life-impacting story from God.
"But they always have fireworks on Merdeka Day, Mom!"
"Not this year, dear."
The little boy sat down and pouted. For as long as he could remember, Merdeka Day had always been highlighted by the colourful fireworks streaking across the sky. It was the only night of the year when he was allowed to come home past midnight.
There was a little hill near his house where the fireworks display from various locations around town could clearly be seen. As early as 11pm, people from around his neighbourhood would gather to book the best seats. As the hour wore on, more would show up hoping to jostle for a better view.
Then without warning - poof! All restlessness dissipated as the sky lit up with bursts of purple, yellow, orange, blue, pink, green, red drawing oohs and ahhs from the crowd. The little boy would steal peeks at the faces of the people, enjoying their smiles of wonderment captured in brief flashes.
But it was not happening this year. Merdeka Day clashed with Hari Raya, marking the first time in his memory that the sky would be dark.
As the clock neared twelve with nothing but variety shows and heavily-censored movies on the telly, he shut it off and walked to the hill optimistically. Fortunately his mother was asleep - she would never have consented.
Hoping against hope, he strode quickly to his cherished spot. True enough, there was nobody there. No cars. No children. No eager chattering.
He stood there for five minutes, staring at the black sky. It seemed so vast tonight.
Beep beep! went his watch.
Midnight.
No fireworks.
"Happy Merdeka Day, Malaysia." he whispered to the Kuala Lumpur cityscape.
"Why?" She crouched in a corner, bawling to no end. "Why me? WHY?"
The other months stared at her, then at each other. Nobody knew what to say.
This was certainly a curious case, the first of its kind.
"Look at all of you!" She jerked her face up and screamed. "All the way from October 2004 till May 2011. A good six-and-a-half years!"
"Is anyone of you BLANK?"
Uneasy silence.
"TELL ME! IS ANYONE HERE BLANK?"
"Me?" March 2009 squeaked. "I had just a short 3-liner post, totaling 18 words."
"Uhm, I was just a video and a paragraph." August 2009 chimed in.
"Yeah, mine wasn't that great either." added May 2011.
"Same here." April 2011 nodded reassuringly, as did March 2011.
"SHUT UP! I SAID BLANK! DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT BLANK MEANS? IT'S NOT A FEW LINES OR A VIDEO OR A HALF-HEARTED STORY. IT'S JUST PLAIN STUPID BLANK!"
"Hey...it's not your fault really." the 2011 months gathered around June. "No one even reads any more. It's just not the same now."
She remained inconsolable. "I always dreamed of being like all of you. It didn't have to be a five-parter or poem or picture entry. Even a Writer's Block would've made me happy."
They patted her back, only able to afford sympathetic frowns.
"But...nothing. Never would I have imagined..."
She choked.
"What will the other months to come say about me?"
As she continued sobbing, the crowd slowly dispersed. There were just no words powerful enough to mend her heart. For when hopes are dashed, dreams are murdered. And words simply cannot undo that. Only time can.
Eventually, only one month was left. He stayed by her side stoically, not a single word escaping his lips till her tears had run dry. His own time was coming up, for around the corner another new month peeked.
"Come now," July 2011 helped her to her feet. "We must go. Time waits for no one."
After half a year of emo posts, it feels good to write something manly again!
It was the time of White Knights and Black Knights in medieval England.
Clearly as day and night, the White Knights were upholders of justice, peace and righteousness while the Black Knights were the purveyors of wrath and wickedness.
So the story is told of a lone White Knight who traversed the land in his relentless quest to defeat and rid the realm of every last Black Knight.
Miles and miles he rode, kept company only by his trusty steed and lance. He seldom stopped for anything but to cook a meal and sleep at night.
He never smiled, never cried, and never once looked behind. The only thing that drove him come rain or shine, day after day, was his unyielding desire to vanquish the Black Knights.
Over the years, he became so honed at his craft that no Black Knight could last more than a solitary minute against him. He knew just by looking into their eyes exactly which way they would attack and the best way to counter them.
Anticipate their attack.Parry their strike.Disrupt their balance.Finish them quick.
It was the same story every time. The steed would rear and whinny, while the Black Knight grimaced in pain and tumbled into the mud. As his horse galloped away, the Black Knight looked up at the White Knight approaching with his lance raised and knew that death was inevitable. He could only pray for it to be swift.
The fear in their eyes as the clutches of death loomed over them - it thrilled the White Knight to see fearsome warriors such as them reduced to whimpering cowards before his might.
One moon-washed night after an evening drizzle, the White Knight rode searching for a place to retire. As he went down an inconspicuous dirt path, an ever-so-slight rustle in the bushes caught his ear.
Wary, he raised his lance and directed his steed to the source of the noise.
"Halt! Are you friend or foe?"
From the shadows a White Knight appeared. Relieved, our protagonist lowered his lance and saluted.
Before the other White Knight pierced through his armour with a fatal strike.
Shocked beyond speech, he fell off his steed onto the muddy earth.
Why did the White Knight attack me? Has he no code of valour?
I always knew no Black Knight could defeat me. How ironic that I should die at the hands of a White Knight.
As he lay there, life seeping out of him, he chanced upon his reflection on a puddle.
He had become a Black Knight himself.
When a man fights evil, he must first of all take care not to become evil himself.
