Monday, November 09, 2009

Moulin Rouge <3



It has almost been a week since I watched one of the most revolutionary tearjerker ever. Yes, that's my favourite movie of all times-- Baz Luhrmann's Moulin Rouge!!!!!!! And even though the other audiences in the theatre then were *very* unemotional, cold-blooded as the snakes in Antartica. There was even a certain someone who actually FELL ASLEEP in the midst of the movie. 8-)

Even though it's been eight damn days, every scene from the movie still seem so vivid to me. Every smile, every hug, every kiss. While I was in a mess of tears, saliva and mucus, I heard Siangyee tell me not to be upset, and that I will, unlike Christian and Satine, find true love someday. That was very sweet of her; and funny too, that she will think I cried 'cos of that.


Even though the above images are already very telling themselves, I personally think they are inadequate in expressing my obsessive infatuation with this movie. After all it is the first ever with stupid scene transitions responsible for making me gasp for breath and choke on my tears laughing all at the same time. Perhaps most would dismissively brush me off by saying, "Rach, you cry in practically every movie you watch so how is that a surprise at all!" But before you go on to condemn me (I have no problem with you doing so as long as you do not criticize my Moulin Rouge) let me reassure you that unlike all the other films I've watched, I cried not because of plot twists that shock me out of reality.


Just so you know, in Moulin Rouge, the tragic ending was revealed right from the start, during the first few seconds of the show and YET it still had a crashing effect on my emotional-rollercoaster experience. In addition to that, I think the effect was one of the contributing factors for my unprompted outburst.

At this very moment, I am ashamed to finally admit my struggles with finding the best words to articulate every gold inkling of this movie so that you may be convinced. That is because of the fear I have, that whatever I say will do nothing but ruin the perfection of this grand masterpiece. But then again, why do I have to go to such great lengths to convince you of it's ability to sweep you off your feet?

If you decide to never make an effort to watch Moulin Rouge (especially since it's EIGHT DAMN YEARS since it premiered in the cinemas), you are losing out and hence will regret for your ENTIRE life.

But if you have already watched the movie and yet disregard it's goodness, then you deserve to shoot yourself in the head. Because, you are stupid and are paralysed without the ability to appreciate good romance films and hence will find NOTHING else in life worth living for.

Like Michael Jackson-- This Is It (initially highly anticipated but turned out to be a mild visual lullaby), every other movie now has to work 8032301928301829328 times harder than before in order to top my personal charts because Moulin Rouge is just THAT impressive.



Love lifts us up where we belong
Where eagles fly, on a mountain high

Love makes us act like we are fools,
throw our lives away for one happy day

We could be heroes just for one day

Friday, November 06, 2009

Eunice Goh, know your limits.

Wednesday, November 04, 2009

I still hold on, I've never let go of your hand that's not there


Before I walked out of school today, I went to the Western Food stall aunty to grab a quick bite, filling my stomach on my 1-hour bus journey back home.

The aunty, friendly as usual, was talking to me about how she haven't been displaying the sausages up in the open nowadays seeing how the skin of the sausage will harden if it is warmed up and left exposed, etc. And while waiting for the sausages to heat up, she cautioned the other aunty in the stall about how the chair is unstable and she might fall if she's not careful. That thick rough cantonese mix in that aunty's voice reminded me of her...

It's 8 days to one year...

Wow, one year. Time flies, doesn't it? One year ago, I was still busy preparing for my O levels, still so filled with hope of being a part of the Rafflesian family. One year ago, I was one very happy secondary school girl. Being surrounded by my favourite people day in and out, every moment spent with them was filled with laughter and joy. Even an Egeog/SS consultation with them left me with memories so deep... The 1915hrs curse, Weiting's horrible father and the rear window scare, my epic screaming and subsequent cry out of fear and fright; all these silly yet wonderful times, are something I wouldn't mind reliving and reliving again. Because those were happy times, those were moments when emotions shown were genuine and when I was genuine in showing my emotions. There was no false pretenses, there was no bravefronts. I was just me, the real Rachelle (pronounced as Rachel).

Somehow it seemed like she had a part in this. Like ever since she left, my life was turned into a complete disaster. Everything was out of place, everything was upset. It was just, different. The bad-different.

If she was still here, maybe things would not have turned out how they have turned out to be.

First, she would know surely that I have been crying myself to sleep for the past few days, and knowing how strong the agape love she has for me, she would not have let that happen.

But then again, I probably wouldn't even be crying to begin with, because I would not have no one to talk to. I would have her. She would be there, to hear me complain about her son and daughter-in-law. And I know, she would, I'm not sure how but I know without a doubt, that she would make my tears go away.

That same creased hands pulled downwards by gravity, would gently brush whatever hair off my face. I would then rest my head onto her bony chest, with the sound of her lungs, paralysed by COPD, resounding into my ear.

Why did you have to go? I know I am supposed to have gotten over your departure by now. Afterall it's been a year since the last time I hear your loud vulgar screaming of my name. But how do you expect me to just, let go? 16 years, you were in my life for 16 damn years. You were like my second mother. No actually, you mean more than what my real mom means to me, because you've done so much MORE than what my mom has done. When I fall sick and go to the hospital, you are the one who companies me there. Even though you are old and have a lower immunity than any average adult.

As I'm writing this, I can feel tears streaming down from the corner of my eyes.

I miss her. I miss my grandma.


Je déteste l'admettre mais je n'aime pas l'affichage des problèmes familiaux que j'ai sur un blog public comme ça. Je le fais quand même, ne pas attirer l'attention, mais parce que je n'ai personne je peux pour mon coeur dehors pour. Et non, je ne tiens pas à partager sur ces questions avec vous, mes amis. Tout simplement parce que je n'aime pas l'idée de sympathie. Il ya une ligne fine entre le souci et celui de la sympathie, mais lorsque quelqu'un est déprimé, la ligne devient encore plus fin. (C'est exactement la raison pour laquelle le génie en moi avons choisi traducteur pour convertir cette partie l'ensemble du texte en français, et pas seulement parce qu'aucun d'entre vous serait capable de comprendre cela, mais aussi que le français est l'une des nombreuses langues européennes, je suis été désireux d'apprendre. Mais si vous êtes vraiment assez de génie, peut-être que vous méritez de savoir de quoi il s'agit vraiment. Oui, et cela ne se fera pas en essayant de déchiffrer le google-texte traduit. loser Haha. Agrandir le texte que j'ai cachés en blanc ci-dessous et vous y voilà.)

Il ya beaucoup de choses que je ne serais pas fâché les gens me juger sur, mais ce n'est pas l'un d'entre eux. Pas la relation que j'ai avec ma famille.

À mon avis, la plupart de mes amis sont au courant que j'ai une famille heureuse. Ils savent également dans le lien particulièrement étroit que je partage avec mes parents et que je dis à ma mère beaucoup plus d'étoffes qu'un adolescent moyen le ferait. C'est peut-être à cause de cette image déjà établies, c'est pourquoi je ne veux pas par ailleurs être considérée comme une fille, qui, sous le capot, comme tout autre problème de communication expérience avec mes parents.

Ou peut-être, la perception de mes amis de moi et comment je gère ma relation est juste, mais une autre excuse, je tisse être incapable de se réconcilier avec la vérité. Peut-être, je suis celui qui ne peut pas accepter que ma famille, j'ai déjà cru parfait, est bien loin d'elle dans la réalité. Peut-être que c'est vraiment moi.

I hate to admit it but I don't like posting family problems I have on a public blog like this. I do so anyway, not to attract attention but because I have no one I can pour my heart out to. And no, I do not care to share about such issues with you, my friends. Simply because I do not enjoy the idea of sympathy. There is a fine line between concern and that of sympathy, but when someone is depressed, the line gets even thiner.//There are a lot of things I wouldn't mind people judging me on, but this is not one of them. Not the relationship I have with my family.//In my opinion, most of my friends are aware that I have a happy family. They also know of the particularly close bond I share with my parents and that I tell my mom a lot more stuffs than an average teenager would. Perhaps it is because of this already established image, that is why I do not want to be otherwise seen as a girl, who, beneath the cover, like all else experience communication problem with my parents.//Or maybe, my friends' perception of me and how I handle my relationship is just but another excuse I weave being unable to reconcile with the truth. Maybe, I am the one who cannot accept that my family I once thought perfect, is so far from it in actuality. Maybe it really is me.

Tuesday, November 03, 2009

It was but just a game




Scenario: Your father tells you to call a friend along for a game of badminton so we can both work out and have fun. On the day of the game itself, your father joins in, and it goes like that...

He came in to the court, first thing he asked was, "Okay, who is tired?" when obviously nobody was since it was merely 5 mins before the game started. But Mabelle, or Christabelle, whoever that was, gave in just so he could proudly take his place on court.

He then critisizes every damn shot you make and psychologically drives you out of the court. The very court that was booked for you to PLAY.

I'm not saying I should hog the court or that I deserve the space. I'm just trying to say, I am human too. I have feelings, I have pride. Would you like it when you play a game of golf with your colleagues and someone barges in, telling you to scram off since you can't hit a decent 250m? Ffs, quit washing dirty linen in public.

This is not like the first damn time. Last time, it was Grace. You told her something like how I have no discipline and does not practise the piano regularly hence the jarring difference in performance.

But honestly, what do you gain from doing all these? Putting your daughter down, shaming her in front of her friends, knowing jollywell she can't retaliate cos she's fucking stupid and is not worth to be your multi-talented child. Do you think I will be spiked enough to prove it to you that I am not lousy, by you humiliating me in front of my friends? If mastering the game of badminton can be done within that very little time you've given, then why are you tripping all over the place when you play? Oh, age. Really? Who are you kidding? Mr Pang, 70 odd plays tennis like a professional DESPITE HIS AGE. And why is that so? Cos he practises. He doesn't fucking own the game being pressured by his father.

So please, give me a chance to practise, teach me how to serve properly, teach me the many scoring techniques. Don't, just look at me with that disgusted and impatient face because I am slow, clumsy and not as skilled as you are.

Besides, wasn't this game supposed to be for PLAYING? What happened to fun and enjoyment? And wasn't this game booked for my sisters and I to play? When did you aged man come into the picture?

Do you know that because you force me out of the court, I had to courteously excuse myself and pretend to babysit Janelle and BE INTERESTED at the same time? Did you know, how horrible I felt when I looked at the four of you on court from the corner of my eye? Did you know how miserable I was, having to start my own game with the maid on stage just so I could look less miserable? Why why why couldn't you feel all that that was running through me? Why couldn't you symphatise? Why did you even have to steal my game in the first place and make me look like a complete outsider?

And then, due to the vigorousity of the game and what I would like to think of as PURE ACCIDENT, I sprained my right arm.

Now, a feel questions.

What happens if your maid is more concerned about your injury than your father?
What does it mean when your dad is more preoccupied with impressing your friend than the very injury of your arm?
As a result of the trauma, your face turns as pale as sheet. What is implied when the first thing your father does is to dismiss your cries of pain as the result of a lack of exercise, ignores the possible severity and actually CARRIES ON with the game?

That is my father. A kin that I have not chosen but must live with forever.


[edit]
And then when my mom came back from work, first thing she did was to offer me an egg tart. Like she obviously could tell I was not in the mood for that, much less to talk. But instead of walking over to ask me what had happened, she hollered at me and gave me a total dressdown about the so very disgusting attitude of mine. In the end she didn't even ask me about my arm.

And I thought, my mom, of all people, would care.

But truth is, nobody, nobody at all gives a damn... about me, and about my stupid arm.

Monday, November 02, 2009

Unleash the inner bimbo, bitch!



Am I weird if I'm still playing Sorority Life on facebook at this hour?


Heres a little conversation I had with Ephraim over MSN. Talking to him makes me laugh like KRAZEE all the damn time!!!!!!!!!!


Ephraim. like it or not. says (23:47):
*Play Sorority Life and discover fashion, friends and fun!
*WTF?!
*SO WHAT NOW!?
*i just installed
*omg
*i feel like a whore
*SO CHEAP THIS GAME

...

Ephraim. like it or not. says (23:55):
*OMG
*i just created my avatar
*its DAMN SEXY
Missy E. Ham says (23:55):
*hahahhahahha
*YOU BIMBO!
Ephraim. like it or not. says (23:56):
*so do i have to send u a free gift?
Missy E. Ham says (23:56):
*NONO
*DONT NEED
Ephraim. like it or not. says (23:56):
*nvm
*i sent u candy corn
*hopefully ur character will become FAT
Ephraim. like it or not. says (23:57):
*or old halloween candy
*MUAAHAHAHAHAHA
*then i'll be the sexiest!
Missy E. Ham says (23:57):
*HAHAHHA NO NOTHING WILL HAPPEN
*STUPID
Ephraim. like it or not. says (23:57):
*I KNOW LAH
Missy E. Ham says (23:57):
*IM WEARING A DOLCE AND GABANNA DRESS
*BITCH GET OVER IT
Ephraim. like it or not. says (23:57):
*LOL!
*OMG BISH
Missy E. Ham says (23:57):
*HAHAHHA
*AFTER YOUR O'S
*THEN YOU CAN PLAY
*AND BECOME THE SEXIEST GODDESS ALIVE
Ephraim. like it or not. says (23:57):
*HAHAHA OK
*ehh which is better
Ephraim. like it or not. says (23:58):
*diva, socialite or heiress?
Missy E. Ham says (23:58):
*IMMA SOCIALITE
*BUT IT DOESNT REALLY MATTER
*I THINK
Ephraim. like it or not. says (23:58):
*ohh ok
Missy E. Ham says (23:58):
*UP TO YOU LAH
*YOU DIVA LAH
*YOU WANT TO BE SEXY
Ephraim. like it or not. says (23:58):
*heiress then
*i love money!
lololololol funny stuffs

Watching MJ "This Is It" with Shayne, Jo, Jared and Saku tomorrow. I mean later, at 1900hrs. Think we're going for the 3-dimensional or something. Aye who cares, the only difference is probably just MJ dancing on your face instead of on the stage. 8-)

Monday, October 26, 2009

Diary of a maligned teen

(Click to enlarge)


Saturday, October 24, 2009

Online world and my (mostly hidden) insecurities


Q: What do you derive from online relationships and friends?
-Jo Cheng

A: Well, before answering this question, I would like to take it through how the whole addiction of socialising in cyberspace came about. It first started when I was 16, inquisitive, experimental and most importantly, bored when I was in the midst of preparing for O level. I have always been to that site, not to find friends, not to find men, not to find anything. I was just there, playing the sketching game similar to pictionary online. Never explored the other rooms other than the gameroom, but that was because of the very lack of awareness as opposed to intentional avoidance.

So one fine day, I clicked on the cyber room and to my horror (then), there was an overflowing supply of vulgarities as each user contributed, adding on to the purity of the site. However, amongst the (then) disturbing and disgusting shout outs coated with very thick sexual connations, there was this group of people talking about a certain topic seemingly unrelated to sex or spam. Well, occasionally there was mention of sex, but I guess we as Singaporeans should avoid as best to measure people from other countries with our own measurement tools. What it means is that, we should withhold all our judgements on foreigners, especially if they are comments (biased or not) based on our own cultures and beliefs. In a liberal state, like for example, the US of A, phenomenon of toddlers and preschoolers masturbating in public is not uncommon, especially since there are even parenting sites created to deal with them.

Pardon me for digressing too much (once again), I just felt the need to defend my online friends in case anyone of you start accusing me of being sick in the head to be talking to what you may perceive to be "sexually deprived" people. Well they might very well be sexually deprived, but who gave you the right to label them? Hmph! Okay, needs to calm down and quit getting emotional over virtual figures.

So back to the question, what do I derive..? Hmm well, honestly being online (at flirt email) does not add any value to my life at all. In fact, (according to my folks) the time spent flirting socialising (not that they are aware of this) could have been properly used for revision, researching, exercising, reading, playing the piano, tutoring (did you know tuition is not equivalent to the act of tutoring or being tutored? it is actually a kind of fees) my sisters, QuietTime with God, something they would like to think as self-fulfilling or productive. So why do I keep talking to these people?

For a start, hiding behind the screen with a mask (fully contradictory to my true identity) worn gives me almost boundless opportunities to make friends with all sorts of people (cute guys included). Yeah, I do not deny that more than half of the online friends I have are my friends because of the way I look. But perhaps, that is not my concern. Perhaps what I am looking for is just accompany, a person (or people) who is (are) there for me, who says good things about me, who discuss about issues that almost none of my real life friends back when I was 16 found interesting. The last point can be another post on it's own, but what I am really trying to say is that, the happiness I find in these online friends cannot be derived elsewhere, sadly.

Why am I happy to be with them?

First, it is the attention I get (in general) from the whole room. Somewhat comparable to social stratification but not quite. In simple English, I'm popular. And it isnt just the successive spamming of "Hi Rach!"from my fans but to the extent of guys actually fighting to be with me, girls - single ones jealous, attached ones insecure. Such attention (probably impossible to achieve in real-life due to my unappealing looks and intellect, as well as the first impression I leave on people often not being very positive; even more so in VJ, a school populated with self-centred egotists) can sometimes be addictive, in that it makes a person, especially a girl, become territorial and overpowering, even so if she happens to be one who enjoys attention from crowds.

Being a theatre student, I am naturally one who is expressive, dramatic and desires the limelight. If you didn't catch what I was trying to, as subtlely put across is that, I am an friggin attention seeking slut. Or maybe I shouldnt be so harsh on myself, being all overly-critical, but well that's me, an extrovert by day (introvert by night, no kidding). So, such popularity gained makes it very, let me stress on the word 'very', difficult to let go of the cyber world, which is also the reason why I've been hanging on to this site for the past few months. Just to keep you in view, I completely quitted visiting that website, so now it's just left with MSN which I have to abandon (on my accord) and like what most of my friends would say, GET A (DAMN) LIFE!!!

Secondly, I am happy online also because the daily conversations I have with people from different countries 1) helps me widen my horizon in the sense I get to know more about their culture, and from how they speak the certain slangs and online nomenclature used 2) gives me a kind of confidence which comes from security and comfort in their accompany.

Who am I kidding? "1)" is obviously a minimally applicable "sub-reason" of reason no.2 and merely something I include to help me appear less desperate and pathetic. *shame*

The kind of individual time and attention I get from a cute 21 y/o Dutch guy boosts my self-esteem by some good amount. But more importantly, it's easier to talk to people online (same goes with real-life friends) because there is no way (other than webcam) one can expose or watch other's true emotions through facial expressions and tone of voice. Removing the need to consider one's non-textual expression, there is possibly a better discussion since both parties focus on the issue discussed in texts alone, aside from the usually sparce use of irony and sarcasm (oh really?). As earlier mentioned, such emotional barriers can be eradicated too between real-life friends, but it is different from that of my online buddies because they dont know our true selves in real life. Also due to this imperfect information (econs o.O), I usually get the sympathy I think I should deserve and whatever else I try to achieve.

Perhaps some of my (secondary) school friends who don't know me that well may wonder, "Isnt Rachelle a kick-ass socialite? Doesnt the attention she gets from practically everyone in the cohort satisfy her? Why does she have to resort to such means to gain attention? Is she pathetic or what?"

That's right, I am pathetic. I am lonely, I have nobody I can seriously talk to when I am troubled. Rather, I have nobody I can seriously talk to yet not regret afterwards of the fear of judgement and betrayal (inability to keep things to self, hypocritical, blah blah blah you get my drift). Then again, could it be the high expectations I have in others, especially in my friends? Do I tend to expect them to be interested in my affairs? Am I insensitive to the fact that not many people analyse issues (emotional, social, political) with as much depth as I do?

But in the end, I am actually just a very weak and vulnerable person, wishing to find someone who can both agree and disagree, with attempts at intellectual (not too intellectual beyond my comprehension of course =P) arguments, someone who can understand and offer me some form of protection.

Could this just be another angsty ranting of a (an) mentally (emotionally) unstable teenager left unheard?