Haunted forerver by M

You know it's good music when it stops you in the track of whatever you were doing before....you just stand there and for a few seconds you forgot to breathe and just taking in the notes.

It's been exactly two years and five months since M! The Opera took its last bow in Istana Budaya. A handful of other musicals later, the hauntingly beautiful melodies of Saidah (composer & creator & M!) never left me. Every time I remember to visit the music, I play the sound track of the opera in my house over and over again.
an evening session of music workshop in 2005 at Saidah's house ended with the directors goofing around for the cast' entertainment. Saidah Rastam (left) & Jo Kukathas (director)






Issac, warming up before a rehersal @ Sunway College Rooftop Theatre



















Doreen Tang, played Sepi, at a sponsor's music preview meeting


















Michelle, Zum & Shiraz - backstage @ preview event @ Zouk, 2006










a retreat & weekend workshop @ Magick River (Kuala Kubu Bahru)

In the spirit of Olympic 08 & French art song :)

ok, do you get the joke yet? look at this picture...
nope? look at my hair?

"Whats up with your hair janet!!!"

"Waaa, you trying to outdo the Olympic is it? Wearing the stadium on your head?"

LOL

I was in the mood to do something outrageous and different, for my look @ PHIL IT UP concert where I presented a Delibes art song about the beautiful Gypsies (Les fille de Cadix). I most certainly look different :) a bit weird but exactly how I liked it...

the formula for MR RIGHT?

here I am, sitting at home trying to practise my music for tomorrow's concert and fighting off stage fright. Thinking maybe because am hungry I was shivering when I sang to myself, I heat up my experimental dish (butter rice cooked with potatoes & garlic & vege bouillon sea salt cube) and ate at a proper dining table, with a magazine.

I was reading my month serving of Vogue Australia, July's article titled "Table for One" (Sue White)...on the issue of man-drought. Yes, shortage of straight eligible men for heterosexual women who are seeking.

A number of authors & social demographers spoke in this article...one of them said something interesting, Mira Kirshenbaum (author of Is He Mr Right? Penguin).

Check this out, I quote straight from the article:

"Her theory is that relationship chemistry is made up pf give distinct parts, and while your prospective partner doesn't need to get top marks across the board, it's imperative that he gets a passing grade in all give areas.

Kirshenbaum suggests you ask yourself:

is it easy to be together?

do you have good physical chemistry?

do you have fun together?

do you feel safe with him, knowing that he won't lie, hurt you, humiliate or abandon you?

And do you respect him as he is right now (and does he in turn respect you)?

'If you have all five, he's Mr Right,' she says. 'But if even one of these is missing, he's Mr Wrong, because the missing dimension will grow like a cancer and [eventually] destroy your relationship.' "

wow....ouch. Sounds like a damn simple & systematic way to size up your relationship? (or sizing up your man/woman)

hang on, read on, I shall quote just one more bit from the article...

"For those thirtysomethings mentally scanning their lists of exes, second guessing decisions to move on, Kirshenbaum's next piece of advise will surely reassure: 'Dump the guys who aren't right for you - fast. There is a huge difference between women who find happiness in love and women who don't. The woman who ultimately find good and lasting relationships never chew up the clock by hanging around in go-nowhere relationships.' "


sounds a bit easy, sounds selfish...but then again, if not you looking after yourself, who else?

Well, what do you think? Well, I guess the good news for me is that my lovely man scores high in all the five areas and it's the same for him with me, at least that's what we tell and show each other whole-heartedly :)

The price & joy of buying, owning and hoarding things...

I've done it, finally....I've created a photo catalogue of all my...erm, what I call the `gig wardrobe'. Took a few wee hours in the deep corner of two nights. Walking in and out of my master room, my bedroom, hall...hanging back all the dresses was a bitch. The dust from the dress protector was killing.

What a life I have....

I have yet to have rented out my empty master bed room in this flat which I rent. So the wardrobe in that room has been converted to my second wardrobe many months ago. It's a 4-door ceiling high wardrobe, curtest of the flat owner who's installed it. I keep all my handbags, knack sacks in two doors, and next to it I hang all my Cheongsams and some spare bed sheets
and pillows.
...then in the empty (not so empty at all now) room there's the spare mattress for my folks when they do visit and two big boxes of...more of my clothes, one for my shopping bags (I never really another shopping bag in my life). The other box house my more frequently used `gym clothes'...good for work out, dance class and theatre rehearsals.




So that's just the `empty room' and it's storeroom function.

Oh yes, the store room, the proper store room...of course, house MORE clothes. There is a little bag of all my `office clothes' - now `defunct' since I don't need them while I work from home. A box of clothes not worn for moons but not ready to part with yet, with some warm clothing for my rare trips to cold places. Then there's a container with roller for all my chunky accessories, hats, feather boas, more hats, hair pieces, etc. Piling up are also some random bags of clothes waiting to be altered, given away, etc.



Of course, then there's my bedroom where the the storage of `NOW clothes' is. Among the `NOW clothes' there are pieces that haven't the day light outside my flat for maybe a good whole two years. Cramped tightly in my main wardrobe is this...quirky array of colors, sequins, dresses, weird out numbers that I just don't have the heart to part with (little French-maid-like dresses I bought from flea markets, 80s Dianne Von cat suits). The towel hanger on the back of my door has been turned into a `gown hang-out place' where I hang some of my long gowns.














I have long grown out of this 4-door wardrobe in my room, I have been using the mobile clothes rack in my flat to keep my clothes in slightly better order. Recently the old one broke when I was looking for some skirts on the rack...too heavy. I left my room in a mess for one day while I went out and got myself a bigger & better rack.

While I clean and clear out my stuff in my flat, mainly the clothes...I never really stopped shopping in a period long enough for me to have worn all my clothes at least once. Also nowadays it's getting easier for a freak like me to get carried away in shopping, with the latest shopping culture in town - fashion flea markets & secondhand shops. So these days besides my human best friends, I have other friends with names in the likes of ThreadsZoo, Bijou, Scoop, ShowPink, Lapsap & Second Charm.














Speaking of clothes that haven't been worn...I also have books piling up from the floor that have not been read since they got into my flat. I used to picture my retirement days would be spent staying in in the house and have quiet days reading and finishing the books I collected. At the rate am going...it will take a miracle to finish reading all the books there, and of those that I keep buying when the mood comes or when I see something I cannot resist.

....ok, all this thinking and keeping record of what I own (some folks' ambition lie in owning properties...mine is just simpler) is giving me a migraine. I should get up and get dressed, time to go out for my dress alteration fitting, and off to rehearsal I go, in my gorgeous, second hand gym tights.

Why can't those kids shut up at the movies?

* I have removed some specifics in this article, to avoid pointing finger at a certain demographic of people -- because my loved ones say it's bad taste and it doesn't reflect who I am, to those who doesn't know me. So I will leave you to read this -- now `censored' version of the truth, please note this is the version of truth (before I censor something) that I have encountered MANY times, which prompted my decision to report this phenomena.*



Went to watch a movie by myself last night, wanted to avoid driving home from Mid Valley at 6pm...crazy jam on the road right? Sex And The City it was then for me.

Went in on time, sat down next to two young girls (in their early twenties they seemed). Oh, please, I also want to add that one of them, or maybe it was both of them -- they smelled BAD. Deodorant, shower gel, perfume companies can really work on them.

Why were they smelly? How the heck would I know, I can only GUESS why. Long day at work? No budget for deodorant but plenty for hanging out at the GSC of Mid Valley? A B.O. situation?

Well, am ok with that, not something they can control. I whipped out my mobile perfume from my knack sack and put some on my wrist and on my cardigan. Whenever some nasty odour/smell hit my nose from my left side I smelled myself!

THAT WAS ALL FINE.

BUT THEY WOULDN'T STOP TALKING. They talked throughout the ads, fine. Talked throughout the film intro....I was hoping they'd stopped when the movie started proper. What were you thinking? OF COURSE they didn't stop.

Maybe they had problem understanding the dialogues on the screen? The Sex and The City jargon maybe? They made comments (loudly, not whispers), joked, asked each other question (told you they didn't understand it)...every 5 min or so.

I turned to the girl next to me and smiled and gestured `shut your gap please'. She looked at me with an expression that can only be found on this certain brand of morons in our country, exactly this kind, she and her friends were the epitome of this special brand of morons (same category as those incompetent sales/shop attendants who ignored your enquiries at the malls). She made the perfect, hmm, "Huh?" "What?" "What did I do now?" "Yea whatever." expression.

Can you imagine it? No? I shall demo one when I see you next time.

So it went on la, the commentary section (my seat was C10, the only talking morons in the cinema last night were on row C & B, must be my lucky day) stayed active throughout. The girl next to me also answered her phone, it was on silent but she picked up a call, how sensible of her to put her phone on silent...how gracious. She spoke to her friend like normal. I put on a even bigger smile and looked at her and gestured 'please stop this now'. She understood my request, a mildly disturbed expression but still she didn't understand why I was so demanding at getting her to stop on the phone...in the cinema.

Well, the smart person I am, I gave up telling the girls to shut up after that because even though it was highly distracting and annoying, they didn't raise their volume and the fashion on screen was just waaaay more interesting than the sound of my voice going "Please shut up, please stop talking."

Then another phone on silent received a call, this one from a guy on the same row. He answered the call and started a conversation, LOUD.

I didn't flinch i my seat but I hope he was going to stop talking in a few seconds. Of course he didn't.

I had a bag of half eaten Cheesels with me and I had this image of me aiming the bag at his direction n the chips falling on his head n his lap. But, sigh, at 31, I am determined to exercise more maturity even though starting a fight with a moron has always been boiling in my soul.

I waited, nope, he didn't stop. Ten seconds gone past...still talking, nobody there seemed to think it was outrageous.

"SHUT UP! SHUUUT THE FUCK UP!!!!" I turned to him and screamed...no it wasn't very loud but it was loud enough and everyone jumped.

I wish I was louder. But heck....I was in a room full of aliens, I was the CRAZY ONE, you see...they were normal, they belong in the same group. I was the crazy one keeping quiet during a movie...duh.

Anyway, just to tell you how this incident ended. As you can see, am still alive. The guy didn't beat me up or shouted back. He continued talking and then stopped, after maybe 30 seconds. And then the girls and their friends went back to their forum of the plot on screen...throughout. I kinda learned to tune out and just focus on the orgasmic fashion and the heart wrenching struggle (of reality and love) on screen.

Ok, I have used many words to tell you just one thing....which is exactly what my title says...

WHY CAN'T THOSE KIDS SHUT UP AT THE MOVIES?

(can anyone tell me why? more insights please at this phenomena, any suggestions at how to handle annoying talking Malays or Chinese or Indians or anyone for that matter, at the cinema?? Go home? Buy the DVD instead? Fist fights?....sit there and just take it all?)