Written on 12/27/2004 02:47:00 am by sikapitan
Thank goodness I decided to check out thestar.com.my or I would have missed what potentially could be THE story for Malaysia this year, but knowing our public, nothing could displace the more serious matter of Sharifah Aini’s case. We have just experienced “the worst natural disaster” in our history, though some might say the appearance of Tomok on our airwaves a few years back qualifies as a natural disaster in its own right. I’m referring to the aftershock felt in certain parts of Malaysia as a result of the biggest earthquake recorded in 40 years.
According to the report, the focal point of the earthquake originated some 100 miles off the shores of Sumatra. The initial earthquake was felt in almost every state in Malaysia in the morning. Recorded at 8.9 earthquake scale, it caused multiple natural reactions including tsunamis and aftershocks. Sri Lanka and India, with its strong coastal population was badly hit, with thousands reported dead. In South-east Asia, Thailand and Indonesia reported hundreds as confirmed dead while thousands missing. In Malaysia itself, our northern coastal states were badly hit, especially Penang and Langkawi, with the death toll expected to rise significantly as authorities attempt to find those missing. I would like to extend the deepest condolences to those who lost their love ones.
I didn’t feel anything. I was sound asleep on my bed, hopefully deep in some fantasy involving Jessica Alba and Elisha Cuthbert (circa The Girl Next Door, not 24). I don’t know. I can’t remember. But I went on the entire day oblivious to the tragedy occurring right on our shores. Almost nothing happens in Malaysia. Our newspapers are either filled with government propaganda or some new rape cases. We might not be a big country, but somehow we are fortunate enough to escape any significant nature’s weapons. All around us there’s volcanoes, earthquakes and tidal waves. The worse potential natural disaster that I could think of is some thunderstorm knocking out our power lines. We are blessed with this greatest of gifts, and yet our countrymen remain blissfully unaware of our potential. We could be the centre of South-east Asia, the focal point of trade and culture. And yet, Thailand controls the majority of automobile productions in our region, with more plants on the way; Singapore is the trading mecca of ASEAN and is considered one of the most educated countries in the world; Indonesia, because of its sheer size and population, remains central and pertinent to the rest of the world. Is it too much for me to claim that, despite propagandas to the contrary, we are insignificant in the grand scheme of things?
I’m going off track, but I just want Malaysians to realize that we have the resources and we are blessed enough to be living in such area as to facilitate tremendous growth in every part of society but yet we are complacent and docile, seemingly content at being where we are. But hey, maybe being insignificant has its advantages. For one, no terrorist has any reason to attack us, nor are we the target of the United States either. That must count for something right?
So what’s the biggest story this year? Kak Pah v. Siti Nurhaliza, of course.
Written on 12/19/2004 05:47:00 pm by sikapitan
I came out of watching Alexander thanking God that I wasn’t born in that era. Was I mistaken to proclaim that all men are genetically engineered to screw every girl they find attractive? Perhaps I should rephrase my proposition. It should be “men are genetically inclined to procreate with as many PEOPLE as possible” without actually referring to any particular gender. Historical facts have shown that men of yester-years engage in more homosexual activities than our current so called “liberal” generation. Isn’t it a scientific fact that all fetuses/babies have a general tendency towards the XX chromosome, meaning female, and the Y chromosome only comes in to mess things up and turn perfectly beautiful, caring females into hot-tempered, war-mongering males? So that’s why it’s easier to make a man sensitive than making a woman aggressive.
In addition to the annoyingly overbearing homosexual/bisexual theme in the movie, I find Alexander to be a truly boring show, and a major disappointment from Oliver Stone who had made great character-driven movies such as JFK and my personal favourite, Wall Street. The idea of encompassing Alexander massive accomplishments into a 2 hour 45 minutes spectacle is simply too much to handle. I’m very disappointed with all the battle scenes in the movie, which appeared disjointed and confusing. Those of you who remembered Colin Farrell in Tigerland and Phone Booth wouldn’t have believed that he’s the same person playing the sobbing whining title character. I understand that the script wanted to show that behind the mask there’s a sensitive side to Alexander. My gripe is that they made him TOO sensitive, seemingly in a state of perpetual “merajukness”.
And that is the crux of the matter isn’t it? We live in a world filled with imperfections, where heroes have affairs; leaders appear dumb (stand up you Texan), sports icons taking drugs and angelic-looking singing icons smoking. We all know that everyone has their imperfections, and we readily accept that fact. Look at Clinton, who is now regarded simply as a man’s man (though his choice of women appears to dent his standing in the ‘player list’). But the best movies of all time stress the HEROIC part of the character, rather than dawdling on his/her imperfections. Sure, Bruce Willis in Die Hard wasn’t really the model citizen, but we all remembered him shooting his way out of a tight situation with one handgun which magically appears to hit the bad guys with relative ease. And Gladiator was great because Russell Crowe’s character was a true hero, one that displays courage and strength in all its glory. In Troy, who was your least favourite character? Personally, I despise Paris (Orlando Bloom) not because he caused the war, but because he’s a whining pussy. He can’t fight to save his life. We all love Hector, who is the embodiment of the ultimate hero. He’s good-looking, he cares for his people, he’s honourable, but most importantly, he can kick some serious ass.
The problem with Colin Farrell’s Alexander is not because he’s not good-looking (though the whole blonde thing just doesn’t work), or he lacks compassion, or he’s less honourable, but because he can’t really kick ass. In fact, I’m led to believe that he love asses. Go figure.
Written on 12/14/2004 01:52:00 am by sikapitan
It’s weird. At the very moment I thought writing would ease my frustration, I find myself utterly lost in front of the monitor. I’ve been trying to write something, ANYTHING (and regular readers would attest that I’m never short of things to say), I experience what has been called a writer’s block. In my case, it seems more like a 10 storey high titanium clad steel wall. Certain events in the past few weeks have somehow distracted my mind from my own self-identity. I’ve become less insightful in every sense of the word; preferring the simplistic approach to problem-solving rather than looking at it from a sociological standpoint, watching movies without actually dissecting it like I usually do and generally moving backwards when it comes to improving my vocabulary. However, today I aim to start back on a fresh note, and though I do believe that no one’s reading this site anymore, I sincerely hope the outpourings of my radically multidimensional way of thinking would somehow save me from being an emotional wreck.
One of the most endearing features of our merry celebration known to many as Hari Raya and to some as Hari Kaya (to the kids especially, though at 21 I still get my odd money-packets from relatives;) is the phenomena known as ‘Open House’. Now for those unfamiliar with the concept of Open House, it does not entail physically dismantling the house or opening any particular form of clothing, but is a gathering of friends, relatives and even strangers ranging from the mini Open House to the opulently grand ‘Rumah Terbuka Datuk’ kind. Whatever the size, the purpose of Open Houses has always been to treat our friends and relatives to whatever culinary delights we desire, which could sometimes just be ketupat and kuih raya, in the hope that they would walk away remembering us and saying nice things about us. I see it as a sign of insecurity, where the thought of ending up alone without friends is more frightening than death itself. So we conjure up massive feasts in the hope that when we are old and on the death bed, there’ll be someone else other than that pleasant, but in truth very unattractive, nurse by our side. Trust me to equate Open Houses with death. I’m that messed up.
This year I’ve finally decided to go with the flow, and join in any Open Houses on offer, even if it wasn’t offered to me. You see, one of the best things about being young and carefree is the ability to be as thick-faced as you could be. I and my friends crashed one in PJ, not realizing that anywhere you go in this world there’s bound to be someone who knows you. So my raid of a truly wonderful quaint house (special mention to the sporting hostess who was kind enough to even allow us to catch a football match on her telly) didn’t go unnoticed here in Subang where everyone knows someone that knows everyone. It’s amazing how the world truly is as connected as Friendster. My point is this, unless you’re rude, obnoxious, ugly as an ox with personal hygiene like one to boot, you’re more likely to be welcomed to anyone’s house than to be turned away.
The young male species generally arrive at open houses with a perverted sense of anticipation that they would meet a lovely, stunningly gorgeous girl. At least that’s what I usually hoped for and though I do know of people who go about claiming it’s all about the food, I noticed that none of my friends really get on with the food at open houses, unless the trips to the buffet line coincide with the appearance of some cute girl. Be honest to yourself and you’re more likely to be happy. What’s amazing is that the male truly believe that sitting around talking with their friends would somehow entice any girl to come up and say hello to them. Hello, you’ve got to make the effort. Like the line in The Girl Next Door, “Is the juice worth the squeeze?”. I hate it when they go all bonkers the next day asking me who that girl was and how to meet up and stuffs. Do your own dirty work mates, I’ve got my own to clean up.
Ahh…I believe I’ve hit form again. And though that generally means more awkward sentences and weird logic in the next few weeks, I really hope you guys can dig me again. Or you could just dig a hole for me. Go figure.
Posts
