Saturday, February 27, 2010

Go on, Move on

A few days ago I was working on my Contextual Studies essay.

We had to pick a stereotype, and analyse it thoroughly.

Then provide our own opinions.

My topic was Homophobics.

Gay bashers.

Which was a very interesting topic.

Due to its psychological background, I ended up writing an entire thesis on it.

There was another stereotype I wanted to work on, however.

The stereotype of gender roles in Saudi Arabia.

A few days ago, I was reading this book.

It was a biography of a Saudi Arabic princess.

Now, this Saudi Princess had many privileges.

She had servants at her every beck and call.

She had her pick of whatever clothes to wear.

If they weren't enough,

She could always buy more.

She had everything she wanted, as long as it didn't go against the rules of her religion - rules of her country.

Which was fair enough, I suppose.

I mean, every country has to have its rules.

And I'm pretty sure Islam isn't a bad religion.

I mean all religions teach us to be good.

So it's a good thing, in a way.

If there were anything bad, it'd be because the people who practiced it twisted its meaning.

The princess had a life of luxury.

But she was not free.

You see, being a woman in Saudi Arabia,

You were subjected to be obedient.

You had to obey the men.

No matter how much of a bastard the man is, you had to obey.

You couldn't stand up for yourself, no matter how much you wanted to.

The men could beat you to a pulp, and you had to take it.

That was how it was.

Women had very little rights.

There was one story in the book,

It was about a 13 year old girl.

She had just begun her teen years.

One night, her parents went out and left her brother in charge of the house.

The brother invited all his friends over to the place and had a grand party.

They turned the music up at full volume, smoked, had drugs and drank booze.

An illegal thing to do in Saudi Arabia.

Now the little girl was trying to sleep at the time.

Her room was one floor above the party place.

Because of the loud music, she couldn't sleep.

So she decided to go down and ask her brother to turn down the volume.

She was in her nightdress.

She poked her head through the door of the party room.

She yelled for her brother, but he didn't hear.

So she decided to look for him.

She slipped in, and in the process, got herself gang raped by her brother's friends.

Because the men thought she was a prostitute of some sort, hired to bring entertainment.

She kicked, screamed and yelled that she was the daughter of the owner of the house.

But none of them listened, obviously.

When they realized who she was, they bolted out of the house.

The girl got pregnant, the boys made up a story saying that she enticed them to have sex with her.

The religious leaders and the girl's father refused to listen to her story.

They thought the men were right.

So the girl was stoned to death for her "sins".

After she gave birth to her child.

Now I'm not too sure how much has changed in Saudi Arabia now,

'Cos the book was published back in the 1990s.

But I was definitely very shocked when I read it.

I hated how the women were so mistreated.

How they had little or no rights at all.

I honestly can't see how they could treat women the way they do.

It's barbaric.

How can a country be so rich, yet still so backward?

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Why I Don't Believe In Internet Dating

Because you meet guys like these.

(Click to enlarge)

I honestly have no idea who the fella is.

But I figured, since the guy managed to muster up the courage to ask, I should at least reply.

(Click to enlarge)

Apparently he didn't get the message that I'm dating someone.

And he is serious about it.

And is he really so socially handicapped that he doesn't even know how to get to know a person?

So I checked out the guy's profile.

I found that he has only 2 friends on his profile.

And he is desperately searching for a girlfriend.

He even posted up his phone number just so the girl (whoever is desperate enough) could call.

Last I saw his status message, he was complaining about how God made girls ugly and boring.

Bitter much?

This post isn't meant to bash him la....

Although it's probably headed in that direction.

But I seriously could not believe how desperate the fella was.

I reread the message like 10 times.

Then print screened it.

What if I did accept him though?

I bet he'd turn into those ultra psycho possessive boyfriends.

The kind that is so insecure,

He must know everything about you, EVERYTHING.

From where you are in public to which room you are in in the house.

He'd be texting me 24/7.

Like non-stop.

Must tell him everything I am doing up to minute detail.

"Dear ah, I'm at One Utama."

"Dear ah, I'm walking to Cold Storage."

"Dear ah, I'm walking one step forward."

"Aiyo dear, got someone cut me in front, must walk one step backward."

"Dear, I am showering."

"Dear, I'm brushing teeth."

"Dear I'm digging my nose."

"Dear I just farted."

If I don't tell, he will go,



I cannot imagine living my life like this.

It's like having a CCTV follow you every second.

Or like having a GPS tracker pinned to my back.

And on those nights when I am rushing my assignments,

How the hell am I supposed to do them with Mr. CCTV watching my every move?

I don't understand internet dating though.

I don't trust it.

No human contact whatsoever aside from that flat screen and keyboard.

How do people bond like that?

I don't deny that there are cases where internet dating does work out,

But it's just not meant for me.

I really can't seem to trust it.

No offense whatsoever meant, just my two cents. :)

I shall end this post with an extract from one of my favourite songs:

Over there stands my angry angel
And he's shaking his head, in disgrace with me
Yeah over there stands my angry angel
And he's frowning like hell, but i'm not feeling guilty

-Angry Angel, Imogen Heap

Tuesday, February 23, 2010


I was checking out my Nuffnang account, when I came by this.

(Click to enlarge)

A bit disturbing.....

Kinda makes me wonder what that person was REALLY searching for.... -.-

Or maybe I don't want to know.

The Art of Procrastination

We've all done it before.

Monday, February 22, 2010


There's this particular time on Chinese New Year,

Celebrated by the Hokkien-s.

They call it "Pai Ti Kong".

Meaning, "praying to the sky god" (direct translation)

It's a time dreaded and anticipated.

For a very good reason.

For one thing,

At this time the fireworks (and firecrackers) come out at full force.

For hours on end.

Leaving people (such as myself), who want sleep,

Very much sleep deprived.

And when you have an OCD dog,

That's even worse.

The dog will get scared,

Bark the life out of you,

And nothing, I mean NOTHING can calm it down.

However if you're one to watch pretty fireworks,

You might love this particular day.

Because you'll see them all over.

Especially if you live right in front (or behind, or anywhere near) a field.

You'd have a spectacular display.

And if you happen to be a photographer,

That's even better.

You'd have your pick of fireworks to choose.

You'd whip out your SLR and start snapping gleefully.

I suppose it all boils down to perception.

How you see things.

One person sees a particular thing differently from the rest.

Like a pencil.

Some see it as nothing more than a pencil,

But to an artist, it is a tool.

A tool used to make a masterpiece.

So it got me thinking,

What if people could see things from another's perception?

We'd have less wars.

We'd understand each other better.

If we'd just take the time,

Imagine what we could achieve.

Thursday, February 18, 2010


Ladies and gentlemen,

I give you,

My Tumblr!

A Chocoholic's Tumblr

When I'm not updating this blog, I'm posting stuff here. :)

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

What Works For You

Back when I was in primary school,

I was about.... 9 to 11 years old.

I remember I was asked many times by the people around me,

"What do you want to be when you grow up?"

I said, a teacher.

That was because my mum was a teacher.

Also because at the time, the people I looked up to were teachers.

Coming from a Chinese school,

we were taught to respect our teachers at all times.

We were made to bow to them in respect.

If you didn't bow, you'd get a whacking.

At least, that was how it was in my school.

Then I went to secondary school.

My perception changed.

We got the shittiest teachers on earth.

Teachers that pissed me off.

So that killed my interest then and there.

I decided to become a zoologist.

Because I love animals.

Then I discovered I had no interest in science (the biological science).

So I thought of becoming a psychologist.

Then my relatives discouraged me in a fear that I would go mad within a year.

It was years before I discovered how stupid I was to believe them.

Then I thought, why not be a professional violinist?

I mean, my entire family was filled with musicians,

Starting from my great grandpa (he was an opera singer as well as a lion dancer).

Besides, I loved playing my violin.

But then dad discouraged me.

Because he'd seen how long the professionals practiced, and I wasn't even up to par.

7 freaking hours. I could only manage 5.

I wasn't even that good.

I knew where my limits were.

If I wanted to be good, I had to go to Vienna.

So I thought, why not go into design?

I could draw well.

I had... Ideas.

Being naive back then, I had no idea how hard it was to come up with a good design.

So mum suggested I take an advertising course.

At least I had a hand in everything.

So I could decide on which aspect to go into, as I pleased.

I've never regretted that decision. Not even once.

Because as I learned I discovered so much more.

It takes more than drawing and ideas to make a good design.

It's much more challenging.

Advertising, though it may seem glamorous to some,

Isn't as glamorous as it seems.

You do get the glamor.

But you get a whole lot of hard work to go along with it.

And dammit, you work hard.

unless you want to be stuck as a junior for the rest of your career.

I can't say I've had very much experience in the advertising world,

But I can say I've seen enough to know how it is.

So I have found my passion.

I will work to get that scholarship to Australia, or England (I still can't decide).

I will work to get myself an advertising job in New York.

And that's where I'll be.

So for those of you who still haven't decided on what you want to do,

Find your passion.

Everyone has one.

You just need to know more,

to research.

Find out what works for you.

Sunday, February 14, 2010


So it's Chinese New Year,

And Valentine's day.

A lethal combination.

Well, not really.

People say that Valentine's day is a day to celebrate love.

That's what it's supposed to be.

The day loved ones exchange candy, flowers, chocolate and gifts.

In the name of a guy named St. Valentine.

So who is this guy anyway?

According to legend,

Valentine is a priest

He served during the 3rd Century in Rome.

At the time,

the Emperor who ruled (named Claudius II) had this brilliant idea that single men made better soldiers than married men.

I guess I could see the sense of it.

I mean, if you're single, you wouldn't worry too much about the people at home,

waiting for you to come back from war in one piece.

Hence, you're probably more willing to sacrifice yourself.

So Claudius banned young men from marriage.

Guess it must've sucked for those who were in courtship.

Enter St. Valentine.

He thought that Claudius' decree was unfair.

So he continued performing marriages for young couples in secret.

Unfortunately he was discovered.

So Claudius had him killed.

There are many other stories that suggest the origins of Valentine's day.

But that'd make this entry too long.

Despite the supposedly romantic connections to this celebration,

Valentine's day is getting increasingly commercialized.

I have no qualms with the day, actually.

It's just that it's losing its actual meaning every year.

And it takes out the whole joy of it.

In my opinion lah.

So here's hoping your Valentine's has meaning.

Doesn't matter if you're single or attached.

It's the celebration of love.

And there are many kinds of love in this world.

You don't need a boyfriend/girlfriend to enjoy this day.

Just the people you love.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Tis the Season. The Red One.

Chinese New Year.
The one period of time in the entire year when people (Chinese people) wear red (not so true now, it's not necessary),
go around asking for money in red packets,
give away fruits (oranges, mind you),
watch these athletic men under a huge costume that is supposed to look like a lion jump from pole to pole,
and basically everywhere with overly loud music that sounds like:


Lion dance.

Now don't get me wrong, I actually enjoy watching it.
Though when I has small I had this morbid fear of lion dancing.
Ironically, my great grandpa was a lion dancer.
But why on earth do people call it a lion dance?
I mean they don't even look like lions.

Actual lion.

Where is the similarity I ask you?
It doesn't even have a mane.

The night before,
the family gathers 'round and eats together.
Your elders will refuse to eat a bite till every auntie, uncle, parakeet, cousin, dog, cat, mouse, hamster and whatever family members you have are present.
You will tahan the hunger pangs.
Because if you don't,
One of the elders will scream at the top of his/her voice.
Hence inviting a wave of nagging people directly at you.

Chinese New Year is also the one time when relatives (from far and wide) gather to meet each other.
Aunties give you red packets,
You thank them profusely,
and simultaneously grin, thinking: "YES! MONEY!"

Single people over 30 (especially women), dread this though.
One simple answer.

"Ah girl/boy ah, WHEN are you going to get married ah?"

aunties, especially, love this question.
And if you don't give them a satisfactory answer...

"You know ah, opposite my house got this auntie, she say hor got this very nice shampoo girl at Jalan Rhinocerous. I introduce to you lah!"

Typical example of auntie matchmaking, for the guys.
For the girls, it'd be...

"Oh you know that Mrs. Pork Chop ah, got this very handsome son! He works as an Engineer at the Chicken Chop company. I ask her to introduce to you lah!"

Subtly indicating to you that they want you to get married and have babies.
And you find ways to convince them not to.
And in the end, you lose, and go (reluctantly) for (possibly) the worst blind date of your life.
Or it might turn out great, I don't know.

Thankfully, I don't get that from my aunties during CNY.
Unfortunately, I get them during weddings.

"So Ah Shoon (My dad's nickname in the family), when can we go for this one's (referring to me) wedding?"

Not too soon yet, I assure you auntie.

And we all pile into our cars and head off visiting these relatives in return.
Under the hot blazing sun.
Then we all sit down, eat and yak.
And we gamble (CHOR DAI TI! MAHJONG! To which till this day I have no idea whatsoever how to play mahjong.).
And we drink.
At the end of the day we get all sweaty because the weather is friggin' hot.
Some of us slightly drunk.
And we go home, extremely tired.
And the next day we repeat the same routine.....

Typical Chinese New Year.
I don't know why I'm posting this.
I think it's the boredom.
I am seriously crapping.
In any case,
It's early,
But I doubt I'll have time to do this afterwards.

Happy Chinese New Year all. :)

Friday, February 12, 2010

Spotlight: On Psapp

Given my musical background (playing the violin/studying music for about..... 10 years over?),
I was hugely inclined to listening to music from all sorts of genre.
Just to widen my perspectives.
Except heavy metal/ death metal/ whatever metal there is that is wrecking the whole meaning of music.
And hip hop (I don't see the point, seriously. Suckiest lyrics. The ones I've heard so far lah).
So I started listening to the radio.
And I thought, hey not bad! Great songs to listen to here.
But then it got tiring.
Because radios overplay songs.
It can turn a great song into a very very annoying song.
I don't know it's probably my music taste.
Or it could be just me.
I hate anything that's overplayed.
I get sick of it in a week, at most.
I started straying from mainstream.

So I got into the indie scene. And I basically stayed there.
I didn't discover it till much later.
And they were good.
Not overplayed, highly untouched, and non-conforming.
I loved it.
And from there I found electronica.
I loved that too.
One of my favourite electronica bands, the first I've ever listened to,
is Psapp (pronounced sapp)

Psapp is one of the quirkiest bands in the music industry.
It comprises of Carim Clasmann and Galia Durant.
Carim is a guitarist/producer.
Galia is a vocalist/keyboardist/violinist.
Hence, it's basically Galia who sings.

They are sometimes credited with inventing toytronica.
Toytronica is a form of electronica made with toys and toy instruments.
Psapp uses toy guitars, flutes, and a chicken they named Brunhilda.
Psapp's music is indie-pop influenced, a mixture of sultry vocals, and quirky electronic beats.
So far, they've produced four albums.
Northdown, Tiger, My Friend, The Only Thing I ever Wanted and The Camel's Back.
And five EPs.
Do Something Wrong, Hi, Rear Moth, Buttons and War, and Early Cats and Tracks.

Now you may have heard Psapp.
If you've watched Grey's Anatomy.
They are the ones responsible for composing the song Cosy in the Rocket.
The main theme in the series.

The reason why I love Psapp,
is because it's very cute.
And it's weird.
Yes I like weird things.
But weird, in a good way. If you know what I mean.
Their music is great for... Well, people who are up for something.. Hugely different.
So I suppose it's somehow hard to accept their music.
But I find them creative.
They stand out.
I especially love listening to them in those nights when I'm pouring over my last minute assignments.
They keep me awake, and lower my stress level, in a sense.
And they aren't distracting, like how rock music would completely distract me (not to say rock music isn't good, I'll get on that in another post).
These guys won't.

So here's a sample of their songs.
It's called The Monster Song.


"The Monster Song is a sad song about loss and depression; its the morning after the big night before, when the green eyed monster is lurking around every corner, just waiting to pounce.

Despite its dark and uneasy lyrical content, The Monster Song has an uplifting and playful pop edge due to Psapp's trademark use of found sounds and Galia's harmonising vocals.

The Monster Song is a taste of what to expect from The Camels Back, Psapp's most starkly beautiful record to date.

- taken from the music video description from Domino Records.

So pay attention to the lyrics, and enjoy. :)

Next week, I'll be doing a spotlight on an artist I should've done last year.
Chester, you are going to love me for this. :)

Thursday, February 11, 2010

The Cinderella Syndrome

We spend our lives searching for "the right one" or "the one".
The truth is,
there is no "one".

Relationships are built.
You're never sure if the person is "the one".
Even when you're married.
Heck, your "one" could walk out the door at any time for all you know.

You know those moments in movies when the guy looks at one girl and his eyes glaze over,
and he starts having this "I'm in love I wanna make her mine" look on his face?
They call it "love at first sight".
And it does happen in real life.
But I don't call it love.
I call it attraction.
I blame it on the hormones.
How can you love someone, when you know so little?
For all you know, that person could turn out to be the hugest jackass you've ever met.
Would you still love him/her once you've known that?
If you do, then good for you.
I salute you.
You will spend the rest of your life catering to a jackass.
We'll see how long that train wreck lasts.

Which is why I find girls/guys (not a lot here) who stick with boyfriends/girlfriends who are complete jerks, very stupid.
Why do you want to make your life so miserable?

"But I love him/her! I can't let him/her go!"

Typical answer.
I may sound cruel here (which I think I am),
but geez, will you wake up?
Life is so short, and you wanna spend it with some jackass.
I don't know about you, but I actually enjoy the idea of living my life to the fullest.
So on my deathbed I can actually say,

"Well, I had a good life."

And how did YOU live your live?

"Oh I cleaned up his/her shit for him/her."

I think it's really sad.
One life to live and that's all you've done.
All I can say for you people,
is to be strong.
Once you've done that, you can do anything.

P/S: No offense whatsoever to anyone here. Just my two cents. :)

Tuesday, February 09, 2010

A Smart Woman

Quite frankly, I don't think she's ditzy. I think she's actually very smart.

It's no secret.
Men love dumb women.
Well, not dumb per se.
They like women who are... Well, just smart enough to understand what they're talking about.
They'd probably find a woman with a PhD a turn off.
At least, that's the stereotype.
But it's true in some areas.
I mean, most guys I know wouldn't date a girl with a high IQ.
Most, not all. I'm not saying some guys won't find smart girls attractive.
It's the male ego thing.

"She must be smart, but not as smart as me. Can understand what I'm saying can already."
Quote from a friend.

I didn't know intelligence can be measured in that sense.

But evidently, it works.
Which is why I think people like Paris Hilton are really smart.
I mean, sure, she gets criticized by the media, branded as the air-head heiress, but have you noticed how many guys are after her?
And how much she is getting paid FOR being ditzy?
She's gaining so much from her ditziness I tell you.
It really doesn't matter how people look at her.
She's still gaining.
There has to be a reason to why she keeps putting on the airhead heiress act.
Though I guess she IS slightly better now....
Still. Very smart.

Kay, I'm straying from the topic.

But I do find the particular fact that men (MOST) don't really like smart women.
As in women smarter than themselves.
Unless of course, she's hot.
Then it'd be a completely different thing.
Don't deny it guys.
Imagine yourself on a date with a girl, who happens to be a PhD, who works as a rocket scientist at NASA.
And you are... Let's say a store clerk with no diploma.
Heck, you barely managed to finish high school.

So you're on this date.
And you're trying to get to know each other.
Let's say you wanna impress her.
You'd probably have to scale all over google to actually find topics that are relevant to her.
Let's say you manage to do that.
Let's imagine you're rajin enough to do that.
IF she produces an argument on the particular subject that you're using to try to impress her.
You'd be so screwed.

Most guys I know probably wouldn't go to such lengths to impress a girl.
Well, if they do she must be someone really amazing.
They'd probably back away from the girl.
So ladies, if you wish to get rid of that one guy who keeps bugging you day and night,
and won't take no for an answer,
just act like you have the intelligence equivalent to Einstein's.
Confirm he'll never bug you again.

Sunday, February 07, 2010

Of Street Names

I was reading through a friend's blog when I came across this. Last I saw this pic, I was in sem 1.

Where is this street though? I'd really love to see it.
Imagine if a person lived there.
And if that person had to fill in application forms for a job, or anything for that matter.

Name: Ali bin Ahmad

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: 31 January 1980

Phone Number: 03-8759472

Address: 13, Jalan Puki Mak Ulah, 47800 Kuala Lumpur

We need to come up with better street names.

Saturday, February 06, 2010

PDA - Public Display of Abuse

I'll never understand why ANY parent would want to slap a child in public.
I mean, there are things that you do at home that can be done in public, and things that you do at home that should never be seen in public.
Common sense, people.

Earlier today I went on the bus to go home from One Utama.
At around The Curve, there was this woman, dragging her toddler, who was screaming for reasons I cannot comprehend, and yelling at him.
I couldn't help staring at them when they got on the bus.
The mother manhandled the child onto the seat, and the child kept screaming.
The mum didn't stop yelling.
Fine la, I mean at least she was trying to control him.
But when she was done paying the bus fare, she slapped the screaming kid all over.
The kid didn't stop screaming, so she slapped his face.
I could hear the sound of the slaps really clearly and I tell you I was sitting at the back.
The woman proceeded to pulling (I think, I couldn't see clearly) his ear, really hard.

Bravo, woman. You have succeeded demonstrating a clear case of domestic violence to the rest of us.
Thank you.
Why on earth, would anyone want to do that?
People, there's this place we call home, where it's supposedly private, and you do know that slapping a 2 year old like that is considered child abuse?
I'm probably not in any position to say this, considering that it's not my kid, and parents do have the right to teach their children to behave as long as it isn't barbaric (i.e.: beating child up with iron rod).

But then again, do you HAVE to do it where 20 pairs of eyes are watching you?
And hello? It's a baby! Okay lah toddler, but still.
Aren't you supposed to be gentle with them?
And why in public?

I've come to this conclusion that parents who do this were probably neglected by their father, mother, uncles, aunties, cousins, boyfriend, girlfriend, gay partner, friends, best friends, cat, dog, fish, hamster, turtle, etc. etc.
It probably came to a sad point where they wouldn't even look at them.
Hence, in their desperation, they made a public display of themselves (with their children as scapegoats) so people would PAY ATTENTION TO THEM.
Congratulations, your plan worked!

So, note to all OTHER parents, aunties, uncles, cousins, boyfriends, girlfriends, gay partners etc. etc., please give your child/nephew/niece/boyfriend/girlfriend/gay partner/etc enough attention to prevent this from happening.

I think that mother should have slapped the boy on the huge stage in One Utama, on a weekend.
More people will see you.
More attention.
She wouldn't feel so deprived then. Poor kid.


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