Running On Empty

Time will tell if you can figure this and work it out No one's waiting for you anyway so don't be stressed now Even if it's something that you've had your eye on, it is what it is. 

I suppose this magical composition by Blood Orange is one of the few things I can find solace it. Its lyrics give me comfort even though I hardly heed them.

It's honestly painful to keep on living, dragged on by obligation, duty and responsibility. I feel like I am standing on a precipice, ever-ready to free-fall and let the currents take me and rip my body to shreds. In some ways, it's so much easier that way. You're finally cut loose from all the bullshit and skullduggery that ties you down. Best of all, it'll be the ultimate 'FUCK YOU' to my mother - emblazoned in red if I choose to let rivers of crimson flow from my wrists, or enveloped by the stench of decay if she sees my body in a black zip-up bag.

But I am a coward, I doubt I'll ever do it.

Seeing the counsellor today made me realise my happiness in this world is a superficial one, one that is triggered by titillations and silly happenings that distract me for a fleeting moment. My toxic nuclear family is busy plying the ball, playing weird psychosocial games and acting normal when we are far from it. I suppose we do love each other in this twisted way that oscillates between a sorry excuse for fondness and cold-hard hatred.

We are a trio of hypocrites, cut-throats and hypersensitive idiots. It'd be nice for someone to truly love me and free me from this 21st Century dungeon.

But this is reality, where Prince Charmings on white horses don't exist. I'd probably have to claw my way out from the pits of hell for my liberty.

Just, fuck it all.

Under Your Spell

It's late and my mind is a mess and I end up always wanting what I can't have.

Things would be so much less confusing if you weren't this nice to me.

It's sickening how my life is turning into a cliche.

Maybe it's true that people say there is always a first time for everything.

But why this, of all poisons between the devil and the deep blue sea?

girls, girls, boys

Sometimes I just wonder what led to the unnecessary habit of placing platonic relationships between two people of the opposite sex under a romantic or sexual lens. It seems that in the eyes of society, a man and a woman simply can't be 'best friends' - they have to be soul mates of a romantic nature or worse still, having an affair when one or both of them are romantically or sexually involved with another. I still remember going to eat dessert with a good friend who told me to speak softly while discussing matters about his girlfriend, fearing that the other patrons in the restaurant would view us in a negative light. More recently, another good friend of mine got into an argument with his girlfriend because she was suspicious of me and viewed me as a romantic rival when I was simply texting him about academic matters without any prior knowledge that he was on a date. 

People keep chanting that mantra about how one should ignore what the rest of the world thinks and live for oneself, but it is getting increasingly more difficult to do so once altercations occur. They make things real and tangible and rooted in reality. Honestly, who the hell wants to be indirectly, or even directly, responsible for a break-up? It is true that the actions of Man will result in consequences and ripple effects a higher power is only able to control, and it is because of this biased and archaic view of male-female relations that I normally refrain from physical contact with other gender. Two days ago I met one of my best friends from junior college (who just so happens to be a guy), and as he sent me off at the bus stop, we awkwardly patted each other's back in a sign of solidarity and an indicator of purely platonic affection.Now, I wonder if it would have been more natural for me to have just given him a great big hug instead, screw the judgy public.

Ultimately, the only way for this whole issue to be eradicated is for society to change and become more open-minded. But who am I kidding. This is Singapore, where a storybook about two penguins ends up being placed in the adult section of the library. Not in a million years. 

this is how it starts

Ever since I chanced upon them on Spotify back in June 2013, I fell in love instantaneously. The second I heard the sweet highs of singles such as "Sex" and "Chocolate", I was sold by their songs that were paradoxically crystal-clear yet layered. I guess my love for them also deepened over the A level period because they gave me a phenomenal L.P. to listen to as I studied for that arduous exam. 

I still remember when I was checking my Twitter feed and the Straits Times informed me they were coming. A sort of euphoria washed over me even though my instincts told me they would drop by soon (they went to Manila for fuck's sake!). 24 hours after the gig, I'm happy to note that it was everything I wished for and more.

Firstly let me state that one must not be tricked by the live recordings available on YouTube, especially the one of their Coachella performance. Somehow the sound was distorted and they sounded much worse compared to the real thing. I was initially worried about the quality of Matt Healy's (the lead singer) voice because it was getting a bit strained after extensive touring, and perhaps exacerbated by his smoking. And yet he delivered, sounding every bit as good he did on the album.

More significantly, he pulled off a feat I never thought imaginable: He sung and smoked at the same time. I don't know how he pulled it off while looking like a rock god and without coming off as a douche, but he did. For the rest of the performance he interacted well with the crowd, bantering with us about the heat and even going the extra mile to care about the audience's welfare. Honestly, this was the first time I've witnessed a musician inform the concert staff to provide water for his audience, and it was also the first time I've seen a musician ensure that all his devotees had sufficient breathing space despite the packed and downright shitty/insulting/suffocating venue. Prior to this I had read fan accounts about how compassionate and caring Matty was towards their fans, and I felt lucky enough to have seen it for myself. 

His kindness aside, seeing Matty do his signature hair flips and witnessing his louche, sensual charisma at work was another sight to behold. Everyone - girl, boy, man, woman - was enthralled, lapping up every word he spoke and screaming whenever he did a body wave or a little prance on stage. Every camera around was directed at him, recording every antic he did. In short, everybody fell down the rabbit hole of Healy-dom last night. Singapore could have possibly heralded a new rock icon of the modern age, and we knew it. I for one thought I had already reached the apex of my obsession with Mr. Healy, but it simply multiplied ten and twenty-fold after the performance. Go on, shoot me for being a fan girl. 

This is not to say the others were not excellent. Guitarist Adam Hann, Bassist Ross MacDonald and drummer George Daniel were also on-point, delivering their signature 80's-tinged sound with much skill and panache. Hann and MacDonald were incredible switching from their instruments to the soundpads and keyboards seamlessly mid-song, never missing a beat. Daniel was also sensational, drumming with much gusto despite melting in the unforgiving heat and humidity. Sonically, they were amazing, the music crystal clear without any slip-ups and the songs effortlessly segueing one into another. 

It was certainly a fantastic gig and a night to remember. Matty made a promise to be back, and I hope he'll hold onto it. 

we exist

It pains me to acknowledge that the most serious of my familial conflicts are sparked off by national exams. Since when was learning meant to be a source of great pain?

In less poetic terms, fuck my parents.

20th Century Boy

Sometimes I wonder if I would still love you platonically if you were 10 years younger.

Would I treasure our conversations at 2am in a different way? Would I be even more unhinged by your silence? Would people stare at us less when we are together? Occasionally I can almost see their foreheads knot in confusion as they pick away at us like vultures, determined to extract the root of our relationship. It's sad how they'll never be able to see the way our minds meld as one.

I honestly dislike who you are with. I feel she doesn't deserve you, with all your kindness and patience. I wonder if she can make you happy, and something tells me she can't.

Too bad I'm 10 years too young, and you're 10 years too old.

Unfold

When you have nothing to do, time slips through your fingers like sand and your mind is set adrift. I remember sitting on the coach when I was on holiday, looking at the trees and houses flashing by. There's nothing much you can do on a cross-country drive that lasts several hours at a time, except think about everything.

It's toxic the way things that happened months ago still bother me. Ironically, thinking and doing nothing has somehow inadvertently allowed these terrible emotions and thoughts of mine to be dredged up. My Dad told me he's sick of my whining, and I know that. I'm sick of it myself. I try to vanquish these thoughts away but they end up flooding back whenever my Mum says something horrid and hurtful, unleashing all this negativity within me once more.

It's like a spider within my brain, tapping and prodding me occasionally, when the moment counts.

I'm so frightened, and my parents think I'm a disappointment, so what the fuck do I do now?

ultraviolence

University is going to start in little over a month's time and I am oscillating between excitement and anxiety. On one hand I am pleased by the prospect of meeting new people, while on the other hand I fear for the people I am going to meet. Sometimes I don't get how certain friends of mine can escape the realm of 'Bitchdom' and I've been trapped there since the age of 10. Here's to hoping I break free.

Moving On

My dear blogger has served its purpose well, and I suppose it's its time to wither and die off. I shall be writing most of my film reviews on letterboxd now, since it is more convenient and organised. I guess I shall return to this webspace whenever I reach a conundrum in life or if I feel a great need to write vaguely about events that either piss me off immensely or please me. 

Au revoir for now! 

"A Bad Asian"

Gosh I realise I haven't updated here in eons but whatever, here it goes.

Last week I attended the South-East Asian premiere of X-Men: Days of Future Past in an unsuccessful bid to see Hugh Jackman and Peter Dinklage, both of whom, own my heart. (Sorry Fan Ice Ice, I'm just not interested in you.) Prior to the attendance of these stars, their less-famous Mediacorp counterparts took to the red-carpet an hour before. As I viewed them (from a highly pixelised and webbed screen) making their rounds, I thought to myself, Who the hell are these people? The only two I could recognise were George Young, because he is easily one of the best looking persons in Singapore's tiny little media industry, as well as Beatrice Chia-Richmond because she staged a local rendition of the play (interestingly titled), Shopping and Fucking. Sadly, I also recognise her because she was also infamously the third party in the failed marriage between two local DJs. (Oops.)

As the emcee of the night (the perennially youthful Utt) announced their names, one could tell the reception from the audience was lukewarm and after trawling through Twitter feeds, I could see I was not the only one who didn't know half the people on the 'blue carpet'. And this got me thinking.

Am I a bad Asian for being so disinterested in the local media and entertainment industry? Judging from what I know about other Asian countries (e.g Thailand, Malaysia, China etc.), their support for their native stars is much more ardent and enthusiastic compared to that of Singapore's. Or should I simply blame my lack of interest on the supposed dearth of local talent? Or is it that our local stars simply do not have the 'X-Factor'? Perhaps is it just a skewed perception I have, that all local productions are inferior to foreign ones?

Until the day Mediacorp can produce a show in the line of Game of Thrones, I suppose I am, sadly, right.

7 Things I've Learned at Work

It's been 7 days since my job (at a yet-to-be-named government firm) ended, and I thought it would nice to be share what I have learned during this perilous and often unpleasant journey.

1. It is impossible to be your 'true self' in the office.

When I first read 'Great Expectations' by Charles Dickens, I initially found the character of Wemmick highly comical and unrealistic. He was someone who acted like a stone-cold bitch at work, and only showed his inner Mother Theresa within the privacy of his own quarters. Wemmick's explanation to Pip (the protagonist of the novel) regarding his unorthodox behaviour was that it was his means of survival. After 3 months of work at that sordid office, I can't agree more with dearest Wemmick.

How you act in the office is basically a projection of how you want your superiors to view you. Unlike Wemmick however, you are nicer than usual, more accommodating, less irritable and the list goes on and on. You are essentially as perfect as you can portray yourself to be.

(In the defence of Wemmick, he had to deal with many criminals and obviously couldn't be kind and compassionate while performing illegal duties.)

Take myself for example. If you are someone close to me, you know that the real me swears like a sailor and speaks candidly about most things. That 'version' of me does not exist within the confines of an office. It has been replaced by an odd doppelgänger who at most says "shit" instead of "fuck", is largely diplomatic and polite to a fault. Friends would laugh upon seeing this version of me. What am I to supposed to do when vulgarity is often assumed to be a mark of incompetence and stupidity? What am I to do when disagreeing with your boss might get you skewered alive?

Hence, this 'false identity' is thereby created out of compulsion, which brings me to my second point.

2. Your mask is your greatest weapon.

By creating this false persona, you offend no one and as such you do not give anyone any reason to pick a bone with you. Furthermore, by never revealing your innermost thoughts about your superiors, no one can use such information against you. As a cordial/warm/friendly individual who everyone loves, you can hide in plain sight - no one will know your real motives, because they think you're already being honest and open and genuine with them!

3. If someone does something bad to you, record it down immediately.

Sadly, every office comes with a Queen Bitch and a King Dick. It isn't going to be all smooth-sailing. But fear not! Although there may not be ways to circumvent the fuckery, there are defence measures you can undertake. No matter how unjustified, always keep your cool so that you will perennially be the level-headed and rational one in the 'discussion' or argument. Being understanding always gives you the upper hand. After you've 'settled' the beef, record the altercation down somewhere, as accurately and as cogently as possible. A fucker is likely to fuck with you again, so repeat the process if needed. Collect an entire word document's worth of his/her bullshit, and when the opportune moment comes? Release the information to the world and justice shall be served on a silver platter.

4. If you sadly have to work over time at home, tell your superiors right-away.

This way, you will be fully compensated for your hard work and additional duties. This way, the full number of hours of additional work can be proven precisely! If you only inform of them of your extraneous duties at the end of the tenure, employers would be extremely unwilling to help you or would give you a half-hearted compensation.

In my case it wasn't even half-hearted, it was tenth-hearted. Hooray for child labour, it makes the world go round.

5. Search for interesting lunch options and find a lunch buddy.

I am not going to lie - office mornings are extremely dreary. When the lunch hour comes I can smell the excitement in the air, because it means a precious one to two hours of liberation. Therefore, you should use this magic hour well. Do not squander it on buying the same food every other day, unless you are truly a boring creature of habit. Try new stalls, try new food and these new experiences are likely to brighten up your day.

They say joy is meant to be shared, so find a foodie with similar tastes to come along with you. I believe that good conversation coupled with good food is a slice of heaven, and is something most decent folks deserve.

In the words of tumblr, TREAT YO'SELF.

6. Technology is your best friend.

This point is especially true for people in temporary jobs that involve simple and fucking mundane administrative tasks such as photocopying and spam sending emails. While waiting for 10,000 copies of the same document to be printed, just whip out your phone and be entertained immediately. Go have a laugh on tumblr, admire pretty pictures on Instagram or even better, talk to your friends who are working as well! There is nothing more compelling than shared misery and you can give one another the camaraderie we all need for the day.

7. Don't be an ass.

I know to some this might contradict the first point, because isn't one already being an asshole by being 'fake'? Well, I personally believe that acting differently from usual is a survival instinct and can be excused. Honesty may not be the best policy, and in fact might get you into deep trouble, a la Ned Stark in Game of Thrones. What I mean here is that one should not jeopardise colleagues who have not offended you in any way, or be unhelpful when they are blatantly seeking the aid of others. From my experience, people in the office who are socially unaware and selfish made my day worse and I hated them with great vitriol. So yes, don't be an ass!

"The moon, the stars, are nothing without you"

I apologise that close to a decade has passed since my last ('emo') post, due to my multiple existential crises. Since my mother has finally shut up over my disappointing and disgusting A level grades, it's time for me to introduce one of my favourite new artists.

Enter Sam Smith, R&B wunderkind, white boy with soul!

(Note: The above image is heavily photoshopped and Sam is actually plumper in real life. Here, he looks so different he reminds me of Theo Hutchcraft from Hurts)

It's been so long since a solo male singing act has gripped me to such an extent. When I scroll through my iTunes library, I find it littered with female solo acts, bands...and more bands. The male solo acts comprise the King of Pop Michael Jackson, Kanye West, Drake, Childish Gambino, several more rappers, Justin Timberlake (THE ONE TRUE JUSTIN) and cheesy left-overs from American Idol such as Elliot Yamin (who?), David Archuleta (he should pursue a career as a missionary instead honestly, he'd be more successful that way) and Adam Lambert, who is struggling to hold onto the last vestiges of his waning fame by doing guest stints on Glee and occasionally being on tracks like the admittedly good "Lay Me Down" by Avicii and Niles Rodgers.

(Yes I do acknowledge the last three singers mentioned are actually extremely talented with great voices, but they are undeniably has-beens.)

I can hear some of you calling out to me. But Shu! What about Justin Bieber! And Justin Bieber 2.0, Cody Simpson! Or Justin Bieber 3.0, Austin Mahone! They are male solo acts too!

Well guess what, Justin Bieber can't sing for nuts - just youtube his live performance at the 2012 Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. With his incessant panting, he sounded like an obese man who was trying to sing while running up a hill. I suppose you could argue that his dancing is decent at least. But then again we can always find better dancers in Usher and Jason Derulo, or even the woman-beating cad called Chris Brown. Justin is ultimately nothing special to me. Also, considering how he has evolved into a full-blown asshole, I would prefer to avoid him and his music at all costs. Next.

Ah Cody Simpson, dear Cody the wannabe Bieber from down-under. He seems like a sweet kid but he is unfortunately now on Dancing With The Stars. This to me seems like a worst-case scenario/desperado situation to boost his popularity or remain in the public's eye - He needs to remind us he exists! Furthermore, after he debuted with this song in 2010, Cody left me with ringing ears and nightmares, so no thanks mate.

Now ladies and gentlemen, we have our last finalist Mr. Austin Mahone! To give him credit where credit is due, he still looks fresh-faced and wholesome compared to the degenerate the Biebs has transformed himself into. But Mahone's singles don't give me much hope, frankly speaking. C'mon guys, he describes a hot girl to be a "banga banga banga". I appreciate his use of onomatopoeia but what the hell does it even mean? So he thinks girls are similar to gun shots? Or that they should resemble AK407s? Beats me.

After the past 2 years, we finally have an oasis in the wasteland so to speak, coming in the form of Mr Smith. I must admit I initially didn't take much interest in him when I heard him on tracks such as "La La La" by Naughty Boy and "Latch" by Disclosure. I didn't think much of him because I thought his vocals albeit good, lacked personality. Only when a blogger I followed recommended "Nirvana" by him did I realise he didn't just have a good voice, he had a great voice, he had a beautiful voice. Only when one listens to his original songs does one discover his vocal range and depth of emotion.

Sam Smith has a rare, preternatural ability to sing effectively. His vocals are literally dripping and doused with emotion. Although some have criticized him for being 'awkward' and 'lacking charisma', I believe audience members will cease to care the second he opens his mouth and unleashes his angelic voice onto mankind. His voice captivates you and transports you into his psyche - a dark, lonely world filled with regret and unrequited love. Honestly, if you feel nothing while listening to his songs, you have no soul.

Here are my favourite tracks and performances by him:

"Nirvana" by Sam Smith.

The way he nails the chorus gives me chills every time I listen to it.

"Lay Me Down" by Sam Smith, live on SNL.

His falsetto is pitch-perfect. His control is perfect. What more could you want?

"Stay With Me" by Sam Smith.

I read an article which commented that this video was the polar opposite of Pharrell's "Happy", and I thought it was a pretty apt description.

"Money On My Mind" by Sam Smith.

Who says this man can't write something more up-tempo and catchy?

Yes, so I have basically cemented the fact that Sam Smith is a great artist. However, people may wonder if he will end up like three aforementioned American Idol alums - doomed and disappeared into obscurity. As of now, I do not believe this will happen. Firstly, Smith has popularity back home in the UK - he won the 2014 BRIT Critic's Choice Award and BBC's Sound of 2014 poll. "Money On My Mind" also topped the UK Singles Charts. He is clearly well-liked. Secondly, he is cool and credible. He has worked with Disclosure, arguably the hippest new electronic act in the past few years, and the legendary Niles Rodgers, who produced Daft Punk's latest Grammy-winning album, Random Access Memories. Sam Smith is obviously the real thing in a sea of packaged artists. 

If he doesn't blow up or maintain his longevity, I'd be disappointed. This 'male Adele' with his rich voice is a breath of fresh air in the music industry, and I'd want him to stay.

crime & punishment

As much as I want to, I don't think I will ever be able to accept my shitty, less-than-stellar A level results.

With university applications currently eating up most of my free time, I have no choice but to stare at that whitish-pink certificate often, with its never-changing alphabets haunting me in the days that follow.

My mother's perennial chattering about how I will "never reach my full potential" isn't exactly a big bonus either, and it just withholds me from moving on.

Every time I see that fucking certificate I feel like my chest has been hollowed out.

Yes yes, you may call me 'overdramatic' and try to reassure me that "grades aren't everything" but guess what? In conservative, grades-driven, stressful Singapore, a combination of 6 letters do define your life! Now I find myself worrying if I can even make it to the course of my choice, with the grade point indicators burned into the walls of my memory.

I believe I wouldn't be so bitter about my results if I sucked at English. The other day, someone who received an A for GP informed me that she didn't know who Ernest Hemingway was, and prior to that day was wholly unaware of his existence. And just last week I helped another friend who also attained an A for GP edit her personal statement, which had several jarring grammatical errors. [Note: This is not to vilify my friend, but simply to illustrate a point.]

Now I truly understand what people mean when a grade might not truly reflect one's ability. Every time I look at my 'B's for GP and literature, I can almost hear the gods laughing at me - the poor mortal, a mere plaything in their hands.

Gather round boys and girls, and look at stupid Shu Hui! This is the idiot who receives crummy grades for English, despite her love for the Beats, her enjoyment of Sigmund Freud's psychoanalytical theories and her admiration of Descartes' genius!

I think the worst part of my whole predicament is convincing my future employers that my command of the English language supersedes the grade I got. Goodness gracious, I can already imagine the looks of condescension, the sneers and the disbelieving chime of "Is that so?".

I want to let go, but I'll never be able to.

la vie en rose

I suppose sadness, disappointment and frustration altogether when combined in a horrendous whirlpool of discontent is both drowning and overwhelming. My A level results are objectively fine but in my opinion far from perfect.

It pisses me off how subjects that I had performed consistently in and worked hard for let me down at such a critical moment. It pisses me off even more that English, which has been my strongest subject since I was in primary one, is the fatal fetter that drags me down into the Tartarus of regret and dismay. But hold it ladies and gentlemen, I haven't revealed the final punchline yet! I guess Life loves to mock me and toy with me, because it has bestowed upon me an 'A' for math, my weakest subject!

I can almost hear the cherubim laughing at my woes, how pleasant.

Right now, I can only think of these few situations that have probably led to my downfall: 1) I didn't get enough sleep for the GP essay paper and hence wrote rubbish, 2) I wrote too long for the GP essay and my examples were lacking for some points, 3) Some of my literature essays sucked so much that Oscar Wilde, Charles Dickens, Edith Wharton, William Shakespeare and Charlotte Brontë are turning in their graves right now or 4) I got a hard-ass marker who had a ruler stuck up his/her ass and just hated my writing!

Upon reflection, I do not believe my essays were that repulsive or abhorrent and I honestly feel that I tried my best. Granted, my essay for GP seemed a tad long but that was only because my handwriting was large. Maybe I just have to accept that Life dealt me with a bad hand of cards and that it's a lesson for me to learn from.

I suppose the only good thing about today is that Lupita Nyong'o beat Jennifer Lawrence for Best Supporting Actress, what the flying fuck.

carnality

"Ernest Hemingway once wrote, "The world is a fine place and worth fighting for." I agree with the second part."

I watched Se7en (1995) last week and finally understood why it was a cult hit; acknowledged to be one of director David Fincher's masterpieces. Starring Morgan Freeman as a measured older detective about to retire, and Brad Pitt as the brash young cop about to replace him, Se7en is a study of humanity and the darkness that is integral to our existence. The plot revolves around the two aforementioned detectives searching for a serial killer who carries out murders in the theme of the seven deadly sins, hence the film's title.

I love this film because I believe it to be an intelligent thriller - something that is hard to come by these days. Touching on subjects such as death and morality, the script written by Andrew Kevin Walker never patronizes the audience and instead engages it. The acts of violence and murders are never shown, also allowing what is unseen and unknown to scare us, with the evidence and aftermath of the crime scene prompting our imaginations to go wild. Personally, I find such implicit direction to be preferable to the bloodbaths of most R-rated thrillers these days, where the prevalence of barbarity is currently banal, contrived and lacking the shock factor.

This film is also a winner to me because of the lighting, the set design and the make-up. Set in a grimy unnamed city that could be inspired by New York, Fincher uses a monotonous industrial palette made of grey and blue hues to communicate the sense of dread, fear and danger that pervades throughout the film. Buildings are shown to be dark, run-down and crumbling, perhaps paralleling the disintegration of the world's morality - one of the overarching themes of this movie. Thirdly, the make-up is a feat in itself, with the corpses from each murder looking like extras off the set of The Walking Dead, something both macabre yet fascinating. When the three factors cited above come together along with Howard Shore's effective and chilling score, the result is movie magic. Take a look for yourselves.

Look at these powerful mise-en-scenes, I know they will definitely stay with me for a long time.

Finally, the last factor as to why this movie works is due to the acting. Morgan Freeman brings great gravitas and wisdom to his role, with his character forever giving the vibe that he is "the smartest guy in the room" (yes I ripped this quote off Now You See Me, a terrible convoluted mess of a movie that Freeman also starred in, acting in a role he could ace in his sleep). He owned his role as a world-weary detective that has seen and felt too much in his lifetime, projecting both grace and regret. Brad Pitt admittedly and understandably was then still unable to attain the finesse of Freeman in his performance, but was still effective and convincing in his part. The authenticity of Pitt's performance was pivotal in the climax of the film, where he wrestles with grief, anger and a great dilemma in the face of a shocking revelation. Last but not the least, Kevin Spacey's gut-curdling performance as the serial killer was another star-turn. Together with Fincher and Walker, he created a complex and interesting villain that was enigmatic, intelligent and highly unsettling. Without revealing too much, the disturbing nature of the murderer is heightened when he reveals the rationale behind his killings, and we as the audience cannot help but marvel and perhaps even understand the logic and truth behind some of it. 

I leave you with Se7en's opening credits - a testament to the greatness of the film itself and Fincher's construction of an abhorrent and twisted world that is only a shade darker than ours. 

I swear that outro by Nine Inch Nails is going to haunt me forever.

things I've learnt after 3 weeks at work

1. Most people in my office speak that horrendous Chinglish smashgorism that is highly prevalent in the Singaporean population, making me ("the banana") the odd one out. I suppose it is social situations like this that highlight the intense bifurcation between the different strata in our nation - a growing problem that could honestly be virtually unsolvable.

2. Most working people do not care about the technicalities or what they (I believe) consider to be "minor issues" of the English language. It irks me when the proof reading for official government documents is either a) never done or b) sloppy, judging from the poor grammar, inaccurate prepositions and the omission of the definite article. With most of my supervisors and colleagues being engineers, I obviously do not expect them to produce reports with high-falutin or elaborate language, but isn't it reasonable of me to hope for simple, clear, unadulterated and most importantly, grammatically correct English?

Most of my supervisors are university graduates, with one even holding a doctorate, and hence I believe that they are rather intelligent people as they have triumphed over the academic rigour of the engineering course. Yet, most of the ones I have worked with are unable to string grammatically correct sentences in English together, with a warped syntax amongst other issues, and this saddens me because it very possibly means that the education system in Singapore has failed.

To be fair to them, they come from Chinese-speaking backgrounds and are less comfortable in speaking English, which I do not blame them for. However, with this thought in mind, one should presume that they would be able to speak Chinese properly and beautifully, yes? Sadly the reality is a far cry from this assumption, as evidenced by point 1 (as above). The majority of people I have witnessed speaking proper mandarin in full, complete sentences are: 1) People from China, 2) Chinese school teachers, 3) Chinese tuition teachers and 4) Some Malaysian Chinese individuals.

I wonder if this mode of communication is borne out of habit or due to our inability to master a language properly. Personally, I speak the Chinglish smashgorism when I am forced to because 1) my chinese is terrible, 2) I do not have the right social environment to practice speaking proper mandarin and 3) I hate my mother tongue as boring school lessons made the process a bazillion times more painful for me. I admittedly, am very embarrassed and ashamed of my inability to be truly bilingual (against the wishes of our founding father LKY), and now I have forgotten so many Chinese words to the point that I often stare at Chinese characters blankly when browsing through SPH's free publication, My Paper.

So does this mean that Singapore's education system has largely failed us, regardless of your background and what language your family speaks at home?

In scenarios like this, I would honestly love to fly to Scandinavia and force them to reveal their pedagogical secrets, that allow most of their countrymen to speak good English, even though it is their second language.

I was watching videos from YouTuber PewDiePie yesterday, and this blessed hilarious man is from Sweden - the home of Ikea, Swedish meatballs, Stieg Larsson and EFFECTIVELY BILINGUAL HOMOSAPIENS. Obviously while playing his games he was not giving speeches about wormholes and the time-space continuum, but his command of English was good enough to enable him to crack jokes and comment on how terrible and annoying FlappyBird is. I genuinely believe that I am unable to do the same in continuous sentences  of Chinese, with my colleagues perhaps only marginally better than me.

If Singapore's education system, learning attitudes and social environment do not change, I guess we will be the "jack of all trades, master of none" in the language realm. Now I also do genuinely pity the people working in the SpeakGoodEnglish and HuayuCool campaigns, because they do have a lot of work cut out for them.

3. On a more shallow note, Tanjong Pagar has great/orgasmic/wonderful/fantastic/[insert superlative here] food. Amigos, if you want to go cafe hopping with me  or check out the hawker centres, hit me up!

4. Sending around 400++ emails in the last 4 days of my life was terrible, stressful and deeply unsatisfying. I guess the whole theory of workers having a low morale and hence causing internal diseconomies of scale is very true.

5. Meeting friends for lunch instantly makes my day better - it gives you something to look forward to.

6. It is hard to make friends in the office, especially when your supervisors/colleagues are much older than you and on a different wavelength. The problem is compounded especially when the follow temporary staff are either a) weird as fuck, b) shy or c) unwilling to make friends.

7. Thank god for Whatsapp/SMS/technology, because they keep me connected to people I actually care about, and get me through the daily grind.

you hold me without touch

"What do you like the most about this place?"

"Silence."

I know I am extremely late to the whole hoo-ha regarding Alfonso Cuarón's highly critically-acclaimed film Gravity (2013), but that shan't stop me from heaping praise on this masterpiece. 

For those who do not know, the film chronicles medical engineer Dr. Ryan Stone's (Sandra Bullock) catastrophic experiences as she attempts to survive, after debris hits the space shuttle she is working on and destroys everything in its path, with another astronaut (George Clooney) providing her with aid along the way. It is a tale of survival, faith and the overcoming of adversity. 

Although Bullock gives an incredible performance that grants her a well-deserved Oscar nomination, in my opinion, the most marvellous part of this almost-perfect film is its much-lauded direction and cinematography. Due to the use of visual metaphors, the film's themes never come across as overly pedantic and instead are given a spiritual significance. 

Furthermore, the fact that Cuarón managed to pull off an 'impossible' film should warrant more applause and appreciation, as the scenes of spacewalking and Stone spinning uncontrollably in space are given a never-before-seen heightened sense of realism. Shots taken from Stone's perspective are extremely dizzying, as the view of Earth below highlights the magnitude and distance between home and the merciless void of Space. Moreover, the dichotomous nature of Space itself being both beautiful and frightening, is underscored with the juxtaposition of Stone's calamities and the breathtaking view of our blue planet at sunrise, dusk and after dark. With its feats in cinematography, it simply pisses me off right now that I have to watch this film (which was specifically crafted for IMAX 3D) from a 13" laptop screen, as its release date was during the period before my dreaded A levels last year (fuck you very much), causing me to be unable to watch it in the cinemas!

If Gravity does not win the Best Cinematography at the Oscars this year, anger and resentfulness will literally flow out of every pore in my body, because c'mon let's take a look at some of my favourite mise-en-scenes:

Two words: pure genius. I'm sure you would have to agree with me - Earth has never looked so authentic and yet these are simply computer generated images from the minds of a talented director and cinematographer. My favourite shot would be the third one from the top, which features Stone in a fetal position with the tubes nearby resembling an umbilical cord. According to Cuarón, the scene represents Stone's rebirth after surviving multiple calamities, and is a masterful way of representing thematic concerns without awkwardly inserting them into the dialogue, which many directors are guilty of (I'm looking at you, O. Russell!).

Gravity - one of the best films of 2013 and an example of the unbridled possibilities CGI can bring us in the future. 

"psycho bitch"

Ben Affleck and Rosamund Pike as Nick and Amy Dunne in the film adaptation of Gone Girl

(If you have read Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn, you would know exactly what my title is referring to, but hey I shan't spoil it for those of you who haven't read it yet.)

I read Gone Girl within a span of two days (and during office hours ironically), because it was that thrilling and fast-paced, with the two intertwining narratives hurtling along as you unravelled more plot twists and revelations regarding the two highly unlikable characters, Nick and Amy Dunne. The novel also notably charts the deterioration of a relationship - its sickness, malignancy and poisonous nature, proffering an extremely nihilistic view of marriage so to speak, but a very compelling one nevertheless.

In fact, the subject matter and tone reminded me of a poem I covered in Literature class:

XVII

At dinner, she is hostess, I am host.
Went the feast ever cheerfuller? She keeps
The Topic over intellectual deeps
In buoyancy afloat. They see no ghost.
With sparkling surface-eyes we ply the ball:
It is in truth a most contagious game:
HIDING THE SKELETON, shall be its name.
Such play as this the devils might appall!
But here's the greater wonder; in that we,
Enamoured of an acting naught can tire,
Each other, like true hypocrites, admire;
Warm-lighted looks, love's ephemerae,
Shoot gaily o'er the dishes and the wine.
We waken envy of our happy lot.
Fast, sweet and golden shows the marriage-knot.
Dear guests, you now have seen love's corpse-light shine.

–– An excerpt from Modern Love by George Meredith

Disturbing yet fascinating isn't it? In fact by the novel's denouement I would suggest that the novel is an extrapolation of this series of sonnets by Meredith, but updated for the modern era. 

The originality of the plot also gripped me throughout (until I eschewed lunch with my colleagues in favour of staring wildly at my laptop screen like the anti-social bastard I am), with the first and second acts impressing me greatly. However, I honestly disliked the final act because of its outlandish and slightly unrealistic nature, with the ending feeling unsatisfactory and anti-climatic due to my heightened expectations that were based on the novel's exhilarating set-up.

I guess it might be a blessing in disguise that Flynn has reworked the entire third act of Gone Girl for David Fincher's film adaptation, which will be released later this year. I certainly hope it would be more realistic and more resonating than the hollow resolution of the original text.

love lockdown

Love-hate relationships portrayed in literature and the media are often portrayed to be romantic ones, where two lovers let their love for each other eviscerate everything in the path until both of them are left as two dried husks of a person.

Sometimes I wonder if it is odd that I am in such an antagonistic love-hate relationship with my Mother. 

As much I love her for all that she has done for me, I really dislike her taking out her existential angst/menopausal moodiness on me and my Dad. Fuck, I know I am not exactly the most selfless individual on this planet, but she makes me sound like Damien from The Omen. It frustrates me when my attempts to be nice or independent are immediately shot down by her, due to her need to micromanage and desire for control. 

At times she understands me more than my Dad, and I suppose that is a bad thing because she sees right through me, knowing all my 'pressure points' (to borrow a phrase from Sherlock) and saying things that honestly hurt. Who knew that constant jibes about my weight could seriously leave my heart in shambles huh?

Maybe she and I are just destined to love/hate each other for life. 

entertainment

If you know me (and not even well enough), it is obvious that I am a huge sucker for good music and have a penchant for liking bands that do not head down to the little red dot very often. Hence, the minute/second/millisecond I knew Phoenix was heading to town, I gathered some of my hombres to come along as part of our post-As celebrations and what not.

To say that their 85 minute show was amazing would be a complete understatement. Thomas Mars, the lead singer, effectively engaged the crowd and his voice was pure, crystalline and pitch-perfect. At times he looked at the audience and seemingly gave you a personal serenade, eliciting screams from adoring fans. Laurent Brancowitz, Deck d'Arcy and Christian Mazzalai were also excellent, proving themselves to be highly skilled musicians, their sounds rich and exhilarating. The touring band members (Robin Coudert and Thomas Hedlund) were also very competent on the synth and the drums. In fact I preferred the live versions of Phoenix's numerous hits, such as Lisztomania and Entertainment, as the addition of the drum set gave the songs a sense of urgency and a rhythmic punch. 

The pulsating beat from Hedlund's drumming got the whole theatre grooving to the beat, except at times when less recent and well-known songs were played, presumably from older records such as United, Alphabetical and It's Never Been Like That. Then, the crowd got much quieter and much more...stationary. Admittedly, I did not know those songs apart from If I Ever Get Better and so yes, guilty as charged, I am a bad fan. However, irregardless of being a 'bad fan' or not, I am convinced that all 3,500 attendees experienced the magic that is Phoenix and are ever-hungry for more. 

not in love

Oh fuck there you go doing that thing again deliberately, sidestepping whatever I want to say and going on and on about your own personal trifles that you constantly demand my attention to.

Ah well, the upside to this situation is that I can finally relate to all those films, songs and novels which track the deterioration of a relationship gone stale, hooray!

I guess you'll never ever know, would you.

beta love

"It's kind of like a form of socially acceptable insanity."

Spike Jonze's latest effort, Her, is a heartfelt tale set in the near-future where operating systems are advanced programmes that seem to develop an ever evolving intelligence and personality, blurring the lines between the real and artificial. Considering humanity's current interpersonal relationship with technology, Jonze's satire could be an accurate prediction of future developments, with people transitioning from staring at their Smartphones to being preoccupied with an omniscient OS perfectly tailored to your character. Her perfectly illustrates the odd and alien behaviour humanity displays when we eschew genuine interaction in favour of self-absorbment.

Furthermore, this film would not have worked without the performances of Joaquin Phoenix (Theodore Twombly), Scarlett Johansson (Samantha) and Amy Adams (Amy), who are organic, relatable and believable. Phoenix and Johansson in particular knock it out of the park, making Theodore's relationship with his OS sincere and realistic when it could have possibly reached comedic territory due to the ludicrousness of the idea. Both actors share a blistering chemistry, despite Johansson only having a (terrific) vocal performance, and are a more authentic couple than let's just say, oh I don't know, Chris Hemsworth and Natalie Portman in both Thor outings? (Yeah on a side note I find them pretty gross.)

Personally, this film resonated with me as it highlighted the beauty of being love and its doubts - whether one's emotions for another were real or fake and the weight and burden of commitment amongst other issues. This was effected by the quality of the performances and the cinematography, with the soft lighting and warm colours creating elegant scenes that looked straight out of a VSCO Cam preset. 

Her, is easily one of the best films of 2013/2014, and I am excited for future works by Jonze. 

here's johnny

"You've...always been the caretaker."

I can finally understand why many tout Stanley Kubrick's The Shining (1980) to be a cinematic masterpiece. Pictured above is the famous bathroom scene, with the use of red signalling danger and creating a rather surrealist mise-en-scene.

Plot-wise the film itself is not very frightening, but Kubrick makes up for it through creating tense and creepy atmospheres, as well as invoking career-defining performances from his stars.

In all honesty Jack Nicholson's crazed facial expressions and body language frightened me more than the twin girls and the shape-shifting young lady/old crone ghost.

--

On another note, this film is excellent for making reaction pictures, because this is exactly my reaction to my mother's denigration of my current slothful existence.

Thanks Mum! 

i want you so

Sometimes I feel that Miucca Prada has read my mind. 

She never fails to feature talented actors that I find wholly and utterly captivating, such as Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Benicio del Toro, Ben Whishaw, Ezra Miller, Christoph Waltz and Dane DeHaan (featured in his second Prada shoot in Prada's S/S 2014 campaign above). 

Although I'd like to ask why she has shifted the focus to one singular actor this time round, rather than than the previous triptych which showcased men of different ages.

Not that I am complaining, because I love Dane DeHaan very much and I have a feeling he's going to own 2014, being the "fiercely sexual" and "blindingly beautiful" star he is.

So, thank you Miucca.

vultures in circles

Simply beautiful.

Kudos to The Limousines for giving me inspiration for my latest header.