Thursday, September 25th, 2008
“So the same goes lah, to start Facebook groups and those who has blog or anything online.”
*Click
Finally getting a greenlight from my publicity manager to post this up online. Whee!
Since about two months ago, I’ve been busy running up and down to work on this really cool and exciting project, called the Emergency Festival! (Sebuah darurat dua minggu). This multi-arts ‘festival’ – though not in a celebratory kind of way – has a lot to do with our country’s history, particularly the highly questionable and violent 12 years of the Malayan Emergency, hence the title.
A team of 7 young artists (and I say artists with liberty, because you know, some of us (me) don’t really do art) got together and decided to do something just for the heck of it. In this 7, there are two writer/directors, a visual artist, one designer, one performing artists, one indie filmmaker, and one me. The initiator of the project wanted very much to remember the 60th anniversary of the darurat tanah melayu this year and sometime in the early few months of the year, started really looking into making the project a reality. I got roped in the very first session of briefing and according to one of them, I rose up the ranks of comrades pretty quick!
Anyway, please come to my festival. My art festival. I’m curating the exhibition part of it, called ‘12 Years’ and it’s FREE!~
12 Years of Facebook
Wednesday, September 17th, 2008
*in thick indian accent*
“Hello? Good afternoon, is this E* M*?”
“Good afternoon. Yes, this is.”
“Oh good. Hello. Yes. I’m calling from Lenovo-IBM.”
“Uhm, okay.”
“Yes. I would like to know, how many people are working in your company?”
“Where are you calling from again?”
“Yes. I’m calling from Lenovo-IBM.”
“Lenovo?”
“Yes. And I would like to know how many people are working in your company?”
“Why do you need to know?”
“Yes. It’s for a survey, yes. I would just like to know for our database, yes.”
“Uh, about fifthteen people.” (i lied)
“Yes, fifthteen people. Are there any branches for your company?”
“No. Just one.”
“Yes?”
“No! Just one company.”
“Yes, just one. And who am I speaking to, yes?”
“This is Mr. Yeoh.”
“Yes, Mr. Yeoh. And can I have your full name Mr. Yeoh?”
“Why do you need my full name?”
“Yes, because we need to know who the respondent for this survey is, yes.”
“Then you put Mr. Yeoh can adey.”
“Yes, Mr. Yeoh Cannady. That’s C A N N A D Y. Yes?”
“… …yes!”
“Yes, Mr. Cannady. What position do you hold in this company?”
“Purchasing.”
“Yes, purchasing manager, yes?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, thank you for your time Mr. Cannady.”
“No, thank you!”
This was too hillarious not to blog. I’ve never heard one person say yes so many times. Yes?
Tuesday, September 2nd, 2008
So for the Merdeka Special (says the patriotic me), I’m gonna post two conversations I participated in, that has something to do with the Malaysian identity. At least, to an outsider (non-malaysian) and kinda enlightened me.
When I was in Brisbane two weeks ago, my friends and I went to Chinatown to grab dinner. And while we were there, we were served by this chinese student that was working there and his english wasn’t exactly solid. When my friend asked about a bowl of something the next table ordered, this was what happened…
“What’s that thing over there?”
“Uh, um… I uh… don’t uh…. Wait first… let me ask.”
*then I spoke in mandarin*
“We we just wondering what that is?”
“Oh, why didn’t you guys speak mandarin earlier. I didn’t know you could speak mandarin. Are you guys Taiwanese?”
“No. We’re Malaysians.”
“Oh, Malaysians.”
“Where are you from?”
“I’m from Singtao.”
“Oh okay. Cool cool.”
“That’s good you guys. You are Malay people* and you can speak good english and good mandarin.”
“Whoa whoa whoa, we’re not Malay people.”
“Okay, um… you’re not Malay?”
“We are Malaysian Chinese.”
“Oh, Malaysian Chinese. Different from Malay people?”
“Yea yea. Malaysian Malay and Malaysian Chinese are different”
*Malay people in mandarin sort of sounds like Malaysian, and vice versa.
Then, when I was in Bangkok two years ago, my colleague and I were having lunch in this place where we bumped into an European lady. She was friendly and began immediately to chat. According to her, she’s been around Southeast Asia for a while, staying in Indonesia for a couple of years and been to other countries around.
“Why do you speak good english? What about Bahasa? Like Indonesia? Selamat Pagi?”
“Because we are Malaysian Chinese.”
“Oh, how is that different? Do you all speak Chinese too?”
Yea, many different dialects too.
“Oh, okay. Do you speak Malay? National language is Malay, am I correct?”
“Yea we do. Yes yes… But we speak English more often.”
Now so, I’m posing this question here, 51 years post-Merdeka. Why do our neighbouring countries mostly would have a strong and identifieable ‘national language’ but when it comes to us, we go aahhh… um…. In a larger sense, we all have almost the same history. Colonisation, mass migration, multi-ethnic, independence, polarisation, revolution, reformation, modernisation, et cetera. We are SO proud to show our multiracial background, we can speak three languages et cetera. But why can’t we be proud to say we all speak one language good. Like real good. Not just mamak or pasar standards. But perbahasan and sastera standards. I can’t stand how Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka is corrupting the bahasa melayu by introducing adapted-from-english words like ‘debat’, ‘kasyer’ & ‘fi’. Like, hello? Perbahasan, juruwang & yuran?
Language, the first invention of the developed brain of the homo sapien. From simple body gestures to vibration of the vocal chords, language is in my humble opinion, the BEST thing that evolution has got to offer us, in unifiying first our thoughts and then our community. It got ideas through from one being to another. And with language we crossed boundaries left right centre.
So when language are one of the main identity aspect anyone can possess and identify, from dialects and accents, why are we so fuzzy when it comes to our own language identity?
Sunday, August 3rd, 2008
“Yeap.. it’s Wednesday at * o’clock.”
“Oh okay. So on wednesday, I can fetch you lah. Your sister also no class. Then, on Thursday we’ll leave to Bangkok lor. And on Thursday we can… eh? That’s not right. We leave on the 7th. You leave on the 5th.”
“Yea. 5th is Wednesday ma.”
“7th is Thursday. How can 5th be Wednesday?”
*slams on the brake*
“Oi oi oi… what la you.”
“Wait. But isn’t… wait. Olympic is on Friday, so… eh ya hor. I’ve been telling everybody that I’m leaving on Wednesday. I even plan my work and buffer last minute time all until Wednesday.”
“Ho ho ho. Luckily I made you realise this now. Or not you’ll be sleeping until Wednesday and go there time to find no flights.”
“Really lor. If you don’t tell me, I won’t even realise this. I even plan to only change money on Tuesday evening.”
And that’s the story of how I almost miss my flight. My biennale trip to down under. Sighs. Such careless mis-sight. These are two stories of how the power of the universe are refusing to let me catch that plane. Haha… lo and behold and be amused.
After falling ill last Wednesday, I’m pumping myself full with vitamins and paracetamols. Now everyone should know that now it’s the Durian season. The whole ‘Malaysia is close to the equator so it has no season‘ is bullshit. We have seasons! We have more than four even! Durian season, Mangoesteen season, we have minuman berpek Seasons, we have the raya season where you’ll see lots of traffic police on the road, we have sale season, then we have the after-season sale season, et cetera. Durian season. Right. So it’s particularly hot and dry during this time of the year. And because of the lack of rain, durians are abundance. For the logic behind this, please talk to your local roadside durian seller.
With the amount of D24s, D48s and R2D2s available along the jalan that branches out from all major highways [and sometimes on the highways themselves], it is a shame if you’re a Malaysian and you do not already have at least five durians kept as stock at home. On faithful Tuesday night, I found that my mother has already stocked my humble home with some rosy caramel fruit delight. With hints of eyebrow mechanics to my cousin sister and my sister, I proceeded to open one fruit.
I remember I had three. Three pieces. I had to admit, though not a hardcore fan of durian (I once abstained from durians for four years because you know, I was going through a phase and durians were so not ‘in’), this batch, is of good quality. Really something. So I had three pieces that night.
The next morning, I couldn’t wake up from my bed without my joints screaming for early retirement. I was hot. Smokin’ hot. Feverish. Face red from the warmth. Thinking that it’s just something-nothing, I went to work anyway, only to come back after lunch to take a nap and a few paracetamols. Then I skipped work on Thursday. I couldn’t even leave bed on Thursday. Friday rolled by really quickly and I still stayed in bed. But the fever broke sometime in the evening of Friday. Then, I knew I could still make it for a meeting I had in KL, but I didn’t wanna risk it. So I called in for a raincheck.
See what durians in hot weather can do to you? Not only the awful torturing fever, it comes together with diarrhea for free! Damn… doesn’t get any worse than this. My head has been throbbing for days and whenever I get up from seating down, or you know, do slightly atheletic movement, the throbbing gets worse. Sometimes, I can’t think straight, and just wanna put my hand into my brain and squeeze it. Luckily, today I feel much better and think I can make it for the meeting on Sunday night.
That leaves me one and a half day to pack. And apply leave. I know right! Haha… I’ll apply on Monday to take two weeks off starting the very next day. The directors, my bosses, won’t even have the time to sign the approval form before not seeing me the next day.
Now I’ll just have to pre-emp my colleagues about my departure so they don’t freak. And charge my iPod. And create a packing list. And buy additional allegery medications. And …
Monday, July 7th, 2008
“Hi, is this B– Asia Pacific?”
“Yes.”
“Can you pass me to purchasing please?”
“Please hold…”
*click… duu luu duu luu luu~~*
Sometime last week, I called up a customer company of ours to follow up on a quotation. What I got on the other line was a job-hating self-loathing girl who can’t do her job right and tried to let it out on me. Well, she got the wrong person to let it out on.
“Hello?”
“Hi, purchasing department? Who is this speaking?”
“This is purchasing. Who is this?”
“Hi, purchasing. I sent in a quotation to your company last week, addressed to your department, I was wondering if you received it already or not, and if you did…”
“When you sent it ah?”
“Last week.”
“Sent to who?”
“It was addressed to the ‘Production Manager/Purchasing Dept.’”
“I didn’t get it. You send to which number?”
“To 03-95– —-. Correct number right?”
“Ya ya. But that the general line. I don’t have wor. I don’t know if anyone else took it.”
“But it was only addressed to two department. Can you check if they got it?”
“Hold on.”
*click… duu luu luu*
“Don’t have lah.”
“Um, then can you check if someone else took it?”
“Cannot la. So many people in my office. My office got a lot of people you know. You want me to ask one by one?”
“Well, you’re the purchasing department. So I think you would know who asked for the quotation for this item what.”
“What item is that?”
“It’s a —- —- steel jacket.”
“I don’t have the quotation lah. When I get it I’ll process it okay. Okay? Bye.”
“Okay. Whatever.”
Then, after the frustrating phone call, I checked the old records, about a year ago, to see who issued the PO for the previous order. I found a PO number but no names. So in order to help Ms. Purchasing, I called her again.
“Hi, can you pass me to purchasing please?”
“Please hold.”
*click.. duu luu luu*
“Hello?”
“Hi. I spoke to you or your colleague about an hour ago. I’m calling regarding a quotation faxed to you all. I was wondering if you all received it already.”
“Oh, that was me. Haven’t find it yet. What you want?”
“I found this PO that your company issued to my company a year ago. Maybe this could help you. Then you can find out who ordered this item lor. Maybe the quotation is with him or her.”
“Aishh… when was this PO?”
“August 2007.”
“Okay… okay… what is the number?”
“—/–07″
“Aihhh… you give me a lot of problem la. So long ago. One year… aishhh….”
“It should still be in your record.”
“But you want me to go and find the record issit? Many problem you know you. Why can’t you just ask who request for this quotation and deal with him directly? You want me to go to each person and ask, ‘you got ask for quotation ah?’ to each person in my company? My company got hundreds of people you know!”
“Because I’m doing this follow up from my boss. I got a message saying that your people, I don’t know who, wants a quotation for this item. And who else should I ask if not the purchasing department? The purchasing department handle all the purchasing items ma right? This is your job ma, right? So do it.”
“… … … aishhh…. many problem la this one. Aiihhh…. People in our company who are not in purchasing department also can ask outside supplier for quotation wan. Not only purchasing department.”
“That’s you own company problem. Not mine. Deal with it.”
“Aish… okay okay. I find for you.”
“Thank you. Bye!”
pwned.
Thursday, June 19th, 2008
“Pink red blue men woman dress forward to only two people who will understand.
Connection is brilliant.”
I don’t know why I never got to post this up. I was reluctant I guess. Part of my refused to give up remembering what it was all about. Part of me still wants to believe that it was significant.
One warm night sometime early in the year, I had a strange dream. So strange that I woke up in the middle of it to pick up my mobile phone, got through the entire GUI to the part of ‘Notes’, and punched in the above words. “Pink red blue men woman dress forward to only two people who will understand. Connection is brilliant.” Then I went immediately back to sleep, and dreamed another dream. I woke up in the morning, remembering I had woken up in the middle of the night to write those words down, but couldn’t at all remember what they were all about.
From that day onwards, whenever I space out during working hours, my mind drifts back to these words, trying to remember visually what they were about, why they were so special that I had to, absolutely had to write them down. Today I finally gave up cracking it. I guess I wanted it to be something more than what it was. Like how I always wanted everything to be something more that what they are. I guess they would forever be just random words.
Thursday, June 5th, 2008
“…”
Today is just one of those days. You know it too well too. That day where everything is fine and alright in the morning and everything turn bad at night.
Getting blamed for something I did right with the best intention, that went wrong with the least of my control. Getting pushed the responsibility just because I passed along a message. Getting ignored when I did not intend to be heard at the first place. Getting reminded AGAIN when it was never a second off my mind at the first place.
I just wanna leave lah. Leave it all and not come back at all.
Friday, May 23rd, 2008
“ur interest [some link to some site]”
shiats.. i don’t even have time to read so many sites i’ve bookmarks..now you’re giving me more!
“moar is gewds”
“not when you have not enough time”
“bokeh bokeh bokeh bokeh bokeh bokeh bokeh bokeh bokeh*”
“i’ll try to blogpost some pictures of my doggies later.. if i hav time”
“doggies? blog ur camera larrrr
n tiesto!!!!
y u wanna blog bout doggieess????”
“no timee laaa…
nothing to write about tiesto.. except the videos i have
doggies taken with my new camera wut
tiesto arrr
until i get pictures from Ms.17 okay?
she has lots of pictures.. i took, like 1 picture and 28 videos”
“aiyak”
“yeaaa.. haha”
*bokeh
So out of obligation, here are my doggies taken with my new camera.
[Pictures pop-up to a larger view]
When I have the time, I’ll talk pictures of the camera itself. I have yet to redesign this damn site, dammit!
Friday, May 16th, 2008
“hey.. guess what
believe it or not
u gotta believe that
when i was picking up that piece.. i thought.. grey will like this”
“ahahaha..
so i want that already”
“either that or the brown one”
u must be secretly keeping that piece for me lah”
“hahha.. ya”
My über cool friends just set up a small business selling unique hand made jewellery for the self-conscious, fashion-conscious and environmently conscious. Take a look for yourself.
Soak Republic
The collection was first thought out when one of the founding members of Soak Republic went on her usual trip to Bangkok to see her boiboi. And from there, sprang an idea of buying and hunting raw materials from unusual corners of the world, to fashion one-of-a-kind wearables that embodies the idea of globalisation, bringing cultures of the world closer, y’know, in a more fabulous kind of way.
Soak Republic’s collection are meticulously handmade by fulltime creative designers, during their free time over a pot of hot herbal tea and heavy gossip conversations, on a balcony facing the lush contrasting jungle of nature and concrete that is the city Kuala Lumpur. Therefore, it is advised that some items are not readily available and may take some time to produce.
I’m glad to announced that I’m officially soaked!
Wednesday, May 14th, 2008
“… … yea and then it was so funny. Auntie S and I were talking about it all the way back.”
“You all didn’t notice when you were introduced meh?”
“No, didn’t notice. He asked us to sit down and started talking quite fast. Talk talk talk, then his phone rang and then he answered the phone saying, ‘Hello, Angela speaking.’ Auntie S and I straight away look at each other. We didn’t dare smile.”
“Okayyyyy.” [layaning only]
“But she don’t have breasts wan. She wore a blazer and trousers with a nametag that is small. Very short hair, boy cut like that, shorter than yours. And her voice also very deep. But her face skin is very smooth lah, that’s true. And she’s quite tall, athletic and slim.”
“Okayyyyyyy”
“Then she stood up and walked away for a while. Auntie S straight away ask me, ‘You think that one boy or girl ya?’ I said I don’t know, then she came back. Then after everything when we left the bank time, Auntie S said, ‘I tell you B, she’s a girl. I saw a hint of breasts.’ Ahahahaha~~~”
“Okay. I have no idea how you all couldn’t tell that he’s a she at the first place.”
My mom’s encounter with a butch. I’m posting this as a belated Mother’s Day gift to my mom. Belated because I wasn’t entirely around last weekend to spend time with her because I was at Freedom Fest. But that’s a story for another day. Not like my mother read this blog anyway.
Like most children with their parents, my mom and I just don’t talk in the same wavelength. I talk in highspeed internet bpms, while she talk in AM modulator radio frequencies. Well, not that bad, just sometimes, conversations with her can seem much eccentric. Like adding lemon into your glass of drinking water, makes me love her even more. Henceforth, a category devoted to just ‘conversations with mom’.
