Money Money, 2020

 Posted on Facebook on December 15, 2020

(Wanted to save this long post/blog under FB Notes, and just realised that they have done away with Notes and it seems I have LOST ALL MY FB Notes - silent wails....all my writing for years)

[Money Money] - long post

This blog is about money. I’ve never written stories about my relationship with money. I want to tell the story now. The story so far. 

Was washing some baby spinach for dinner two days ago when an idea flashed my mind. I looked at the greens floating in the clean water, and thought to myself, “From now on, I’ll only buy my groceries at places that aren’t over-priced. Yup. That’s all I can afford now and that’s what I should do.”

Though I was used to buying my groceries without looking at price tags, this new ‘project’ – I want to take it on as an exciting lifestyle change project and my usual attitude towards making changes in my life is usually with a lot of enthusiasm and zest, why should this be any difference, right? 

Right.

I have always been mesmerized with stories about people who live great lives with limited finances. Two of my favourite protagonists are Justin, and my girlfriend ML.

Justin bought his first big bike back then (around year 2000 or so) and was determined to pay off the loan fast so he spent months living simple. He told me he was paying back the loan with a huge portion of his monthly salary, so he couldn’t afford a lot of everyday luxuries after paying the instalment. “I could only order ais-kosong at the mamak while I watch my friends eat fried noodles and fried chicken.” He said he ended up just mostly stayed home and read, or watch TV, until he paid off the bank loan. In his own words, “I realised that it was actually not a bad life. I read a lot of books, stayed at home and still enjoyed myself, a simple life.” I admired that a lot and this story stayed with me all this time. 

ML was a girl I met at some of my earliest singing gigs, long before I became a full time performer. She is from Kulim, fiercely intelligent and the most resourceful person I knew back then. I remember being ultra-impressed with how she lived. As a young lady on a humble salary, but by being excellent in budgeting, ML managed her expenses and extra-curriculum activities so well…I thought she lived the most interesting life. She had a small and charming, rented attic room. She had enough to eat well (she taught me how to cook with rice cooker), took tabla class and capoeira class. To me, her life was such wholesome abundance, so rich and full, and it wasn’t an expensive life. She remains one of my most inspiring friends. 

And so, me and my money, the story so far.

The story now is, I am having a tough time with it, yes, with money. (I did have second thought about self-censoring on this particular topic, it being so personal and all. But then I shrugged a second later…although not every aspect of my life is an open book, talking about money feels like something I want to write about now - for my own sake. It’s a self-reflection that I like to face with positivity, albeit the situation I’m in.)

The one thing I think I’ve done poorly with money in recent months - since March - is that I did not change my spending habits soon enough. I spent carefreely for months, despite having all or most to my bookings cancelled and postponed. And the subsequent months, I continued to dig into my savings every month - to pay bills, to pay for everyday expenses, donations, etc. I look back now and realise, I was deliberately delayed serious planning of personal finances in this pandemic climate, why? Such immature behaviour, and so quintessential Janet – the irresponsible spender.

My ‘hardly-think-twice’ habit. I always go for the better seats at theatre shows (more expensive), I would buy any food I want to eat without checking the price tags (thinking I was eating well), I bought costumes and costume jewellery enough to open a shop (or two), I went on exotic holidays, I paid for two self-produced albums and solo concerts in the span of five years.

Now I am reviewing every expense item and checking what I can cut down. It is a huge change, but majority of us are going through this same thing too. So, so what if I am doing it now. In fact, as I said above, I should have started changing my spending habits long time ago.

I think it is ironic. As a child, from a humble family. Though my dad was able to provide everything I needed, we had nothing too fancy - we didn’t take family holidays, the first car from my childhood memories had no air-conditioning. I grew up thinking I’d be lucky if I could get a decent job and be able to pay bills and stand on my own two feet. I didn’t have a lot of faith back then, in my academic skills to get into a so-called high-paying white collar job. 

So it was bewildering, after I settled down as a full time, honest to goodness full time performer with income enough to pay for bills and then some. I put aside savings, money that would eventually buy me nice stuff – like my two studio albums and self-funded solo concerts. I was living a life beyond my wildest dreams. 

Hah, now look at where I am now. I find myself back at where I started as a strange weary child, worrying about my later days with money problems. The difference now is that I have acquired fine tastes and having experienced very nice things in life. But don’t get me wrong though, I am not depressed about being broke. I have a roof over my head that isn’t going anywhere, I still have a healthy body and sound mind, and hands – there are plenty I can do to survive. This is a wake-up call diary to remind myself to be more penny-conscious. 

Spending less does not have to mean misery. As Justin and ML have shown me, a simple and economical life can be just as satisfying and rewarding. 

May the force be with us. Stay safe and stay kind.

Namaste. 

#janetwrites #onmoney #personalfinance #moneymakestheworldgoround

 

 

of Covid-2020, families, and my year end trip to Penang

Happy new year again   One more quiet day with London weather outside, before it turns Monday in the 2021 with the world out there grappling to carry on with the torch of surviving the pandemic in the new year.  So here is a bit of self-reflection and some heartfelt gratitude for my last music outing in 2020 up in Penang.

If I have to sum up my year of music-making (and staying sane) in the year of “Covid-2020” with one word, the word would be ‘Family’. Family of the ‘organic kind’, and family of the chosen kind.

The family that I have found in my music community has given me the healing and sanctuary that was much needed in my melancholic and depressive months of mounting stress from all directions, over-thinking and miserable health. 

 

The family that I was born into, gave me an opportunity to discover the importance of music in everyday family time – I’m finally singing and dancing with my folks.  And to be able to witness the joy that music brings in my family, is a reward beyond description. 

 

In the last few months of 2020, I had the chance to make a handful of duo shows with Tay Cher Siang, my music director and pianist (amongst a few live-band shows with WVC Jazz).  The kind of piano and voice gigs that, to me, were much more than entertaining a small room of audience with great music and singing.  I took to them with my usual borderline nerve-wrecking anxiety (but always end up winning myself an invaluable experience of living), but this time I have walked away with more than I have bargained for.   

 

I don’t think I have the words or the right description of what I have experience yet.  But some of the emotions I had from those outings were humility, gratifying and motivating.  In a way, those outings lend me a closer, deeper look, into myself, to discover what kind of human I am, in various situations.  

 

I told my Penang host and friend, Gareth, that I feel like I have been through the kind of training in past few shows that will prepare me for all the future shows that I will face one day; throw me in any kind of live circumstance or stage – I would have the right attitude to step up to it.

 

Over three nights between December 26 to 28 at Hikayat, a small movie screening room on top of a bookshop called Gerakbudaya in Georgetown, Cher Siang and I played to three unique audiences of both strangers and familiar faces.   All of them different but all attentive and appreciative.  

Over five nights of sleeping at Gareth’s Mango Tree Place, a house built in 1934. I had the chance to roll and laze in gorgeous sheets while I read books; or sit by the window and read in the sun. I engaged in nightly conversations with the writer and hustler himself, before we turn in.  In the mornings we listened to classical music in the living room downstairs.  

 

And then there were the outings with heavenly Char Koay Teow at Fok Kee restaurant.  I went for a hike near Penang Hill with writer Marco, Masako and Cher Siang.  I met with a local act Buddha Beat and jammed at their studio The Sound Maker, thanks to Marco’s introduction.  We managed to slot in a brief and chirpy visit to the spanking new and beautiful Wild Flower’s Music Shop, to listen to Coltrane on speakers and shopped some CDs.  There was a beautiful and serene high tea at Suffolk House with my BFF See Ming and small entourage of friends.  And I got to watch two amazing films, Billie (a documentary on Billie Holiday) and The Invisible Man.  Not forgetting the multiple hangout at the bookshop café with late night drinks. 

 

I came home with bag full of books, memories of good company, music-making, conversations and a happy tummy filled with Penang food.  I will make my new year one that is spirited and hopeful.  Thank you, Families,! 

 

#janetleemusic #janetwrites #janetleeinPenang #lifeisacabaretagain #taychersiang #Penang #gerakbudaya #hikayat #showgirldiary #travelingminstrels #covid2020 #jazz #music 

Letter number one hundred and thirty-six: a day in my parents' life in KL

Dearest J, 

I'm in much better shape today - mind and body.  Alive, and have things to live for.  It's not perfect but I'm relatively happy today.  

...so glad the dark clouds have blown over for now.

As usual, I sat by the dining table after I finish eating, and let mom have her airtime, to just talk.  I didn't see them at lunch, I cooked some dishes for dinner and asked them to come up to eat together.

Mom told me her morning routine.  Things she does every morning.  It sounds lovely, I think routines are wonderful.  The first thing she does after getting out of bed - washing her hands.  Then she cleans her dentures, puts them on.  Washes her face next.  She takes the milk out of the fridge, reheats it over the stove, sometimes she takes hot water and makes her oats, with the milk inside, sometimes not with the oats.  The milk is a new thing for her in the past month.  Using the gas stove is something I'm proud of for her - she was petrified to use it at first.  Things come to her in her own time, when she is not being pushed.  I'm glad. 

Then she will spread butter over a slice or two of bread, she would spread peanut butter for dad too.  But on some days he'd skips the bread.  He always have two soft eggs for breakfast, and a mug of rolled oats.  She spreads the butter over bread, and cuts them delicately into six pieces...or is it four pieces, per slice.  She takes all of that to the dining table, she says a prayer before she starts her breakfast.  She said dad too say his prayer before he eats.  Giving thanks to the food they're having.  Such a moving thing to know right?  

After breakfast she hopes to go toilet.  She told me she even have a silent monologue, or a quiet pep talk - to her stomach..or to the toilet.  She said she would talk to her stomach, "You've had bread, milk and oats - that's a lot to eat, so now it's time for you to behave and let me poop.  Let's make it smooth."

She said dad too prays for his smooth bowel movement.  These are both amusing and poignant to hear. 

After that she would move around the apartment, exercising.  She has her version of a cycling movement exercise - seated on a chair and make cycling movement with her legs.

"After that what do you do?" 

"I would sit around, wait for updates about lunch - wait for your text message to inform us about lunch plans."

I asked her what does she do after lunch.  She naps.  

-------------------

No doubt, self-inflicted guilt is a real issue for me - I feel I'm on a treadmill of a workout.  The workout is taking care of parents.  How much have I clocked in and all that.  Like many other things - I am aware most of my problems are self-inflicted.  

-------------------

With parents, my emotions are a pendulum.  I go from feeling annoyed, to being grateful for having them near and I can have a part in being useful to them, to feeling stressed about their problems, to sheer bliss of just enjoying their company - the kind that is much different from being with my friends where I absorb knowledge and exchange ideas and inspirations.  With parents, I just be.  I might not share much with them, but I just be.

-------------------

I hope I write more to you.  Making this a more regular routine, and an outlet of therapy for me.

Talk soon.

Love, 

B 

Letters number one hundred and thirty-three: The days go on

Dearest J,

I was at an event yesterday, scheduled to sing at a WWF project launch...when in the holding room, I met someone we used to know (I've forgotten that this person knew you even), Dr Ong Kian Ming.  He is now a politician and member of parliament with DAP and Pakatan Harapan.  While in mid conversation about the new government, he paused to ask me about you.  "I wanted to ask you if you know what happened to that friend of yours, that guy who used to do the Food Not Bombs work with you.  Where is he now?  Still in the country, etc?"

It was...an interesting experience - to tell an old friend...(ok, perhaps more appropriate to call Kian Ming an acquaintance) who knew nothing about us, what happened to you.  I just realised now that I told him nothing else yesterday - other than the fact that you had a fatal motorbike accident...and that you had attempted a few times, some rehab work with a few addicts we met at Food Not Bombs.

Guess I was caught off guard, and I wasn't sure what else to share with him.  Anyway, Kian Ming gave a wonderful speech at the launch.  It was a collaboration project, [Wedding Without Fins], between WWF and Association of Wedding Professionals.

I am getting more and more used to the fact that I can tell that I am forgetting more things about you.  There are days when I think of something about us and wanted to dig up a piece of information and I just cannot recall... like now, I cannot remember what I couldn't recall about you, the other day.

This getting used to is not a great feeling, it's a bit of a pain - the kind you can't do anything about and you are too sad to want to linger any longer at it.  So I would scurry off, mentally...to busy myself with other things or thoughts.

=====

I was hanging out the laundry just now when I had this thought:

'A dream come true', on papers and in writing in a sentence, looks like a fantastical thing that happens to someone.  I realise in my life, I have had a few dreams came true and in real life, the actual experience of the 'dream come true' is nothing like how it sounds like when you put it in a sentence like that.

Here I was doing the laundry, and in less than a week I would be on stage, playing and singing a role in an opera.  This is a dream coming true for me.  A year ago I wouldn't dream of doing what I am doing now - not the doing the laundry at home bit - to play a principle role in an opera.

Living out a dream in real life has an almost sloth-like sequence and quality to it - the millions of seconds of doing a million of different tasks that may eventually lead up to the moment when you pause and gasp, "Wow, I think my dream just came true."

Take this opera singer dream thing for example, the first second of the millions that took place was when I decided to accept the invitation to audition for the role.

What happened after that were hundreds of boring, some scary, some frustrating, many thrilling, nauseating moments - printing out the audition scores, making appointments with pianist to work on the music, meet the pianist, record the music I need to learn and memorise, getting distracted while trying to learn the music, realising the music is hard, fearing the music, getting over the fear and frustration, getting the music, enjoying the lines finally, memorising the lyrics, forgetting the melodies, remembering it, attending vocal lessons for the song, being nervous about the audition, paying the pianist, trying to stay warmed up before the audition, singing at audition, enjoying the passages, feeling awkward at some points, feeling shitty about certain high notes, feeling relieved that it was over, leaving the audition behind with other distractions and not giving much damn about getting the role or not, feeling proud of myself for auditioning, feeling proud of myself for having learned a difficult piece of music...

You get the drift - I am narrating the millions of tasks and emotions that lead up to my laundry moment of realising - this is a dream coming true - next week.

The offer came a few weeks after the audition, accompanied by the reminders from the vocal coach that the gig does not pay much.  The next defining moment was when I did nothing to turn down the offer - thus accepting it - knowing the money is little, the work would be tough, I would be stressed amongst other things.  But clearly the pros make up for all the difficulties.  Despite the stress, and my very noisy and busy inner chatter about what could go wrong in my performance - I am pinching myself everyday and saying thanks to the universe for this gig.

I'd go through moments of wondrous gratitude in the most mundane times of the day, sitting in a traffic jam, getting dressed to appointments/rehearsals.  It moves me to no end that in the height of my weariness about my quiet and down times in the booking calendar, I am living in full sobriety and being aware of the gifts I have in this life, at this moment.

I have music, I perform music, I have a roof over my head, a car that takes me to and fro rehearsals and home, I have food on the table and in my fridge (cabinets, drawers...).  I have more than just music in my life, I am such a privileged being to perform beautiful musical works, and much more than that - I have my endless fascination and admiration for these exquisite things of life.

Anyway back to the 'dream come true' - dream-come-true is made up of a millions of mundane-scary-stressful-frustrating beautiful things.

I want to make a diary or a list of my past "Dreams Came True".  But now I best whip some dinner and prepare to go to the sitzprobe rehearsal for the opera.

Hansel & Gretel, next week :)



Love, Always,

B

Letters number one hundred and thirty-one: The days go on

Dearest J,

It's been too long.  Since my last letter here.  More than a year.

I took my parents on a beach holiday last week, with the great help of my sister in hand.  I don't know if I have ever told you, but I grew up at home never knowing what a family holiday was like - we never had any.   It didn't seem like I missed anything - I mean, you don't miss something that you didn't know anything about, right.

It dawned on me that I'd better take mom to the beach while she is still reasonably fit enough to move about.  So I went through the trouble of planning it.  I'm not one who does many things for my family, but I knew I had to do this.

Well, it was worth all the trouble.  In fact, halfway through booking all the logistics for the trip I even manage to start getting excited about the trip for myself.  Mom was really really thrilled with the experiences - she said it many times over that her wish really came true: the beach dream.  Nervous and frightful as she was, she survived it: getting in and out of boats, putting on life jackets, the boat rides, learning how to walk on soft sandy beach (both dad and mom were unstable walking on soft sand, at first), walking to and fro from rooms to meals, getting in and out of buggy rides, etc.   She took it all in, the things she was wishing for: walks on the fine sand next to the sea, playing with sea water, dipping her ankles in the water, posing for photos, sunset sightings...etc.

We actually really hung out, as a family.  For once, we just sat around and chatted, and ate without rushing off anywhere for the next appointment.  4 days 3 nights.

Dad is 76 now, mom is 71.  She told me she was never given that beach holiday since married dad.  I mean, I know them well in the sense that they have not had the chance to 'learn' to 'enjoy life' as how I know.  There are too many things that are too late for them to pick up at their age, with their background.   As limited options I have to 'make them happy', I just had to try to service their wishes.  I am glad we took the trip to Redang.  I booked a really nice resort for us, everyone was happy with the space.  It was sister's first holiday away from her kids and hubby, my first with my family, mom's first beach holiday...dad's first too.  All of our firsts.

I try to cook for them at home as much as I could, showing mom new recipes of simple and delicious dishes like pasta options.  My impatience with them remains, I still can't wait to get back to my own routines of life, and having the pad to myself.  I've learned to control it better, my mind seems to get into this "service-mode".  I want to do the best I can (given my limited patience) to provide my care and services as a daughter to mom and dad.  I cannot yet see how our future will pan out, their wealth conditions and the way they live out in Taiping stress me a bit but I am determined not to let that ruin my days.

I'm 40 now.  I don't know how to describe this but it seems, I feel that I've never really grown up - inside me everyday I have many moments of surrealism....the memories of that really young, insecure, feels ugly, un-clever girl - she lives in me still, everyday I see her - even as I am doing big, clever things like taking care of business, making things happen.  I am 40 but I feel like a 8-year-old who has grown used to getting round to do things she's never thought she would one day could.

Can't put my finger on this feeling - what you call this...

I've recently - just a couple of days ago - got re-aquainted with my old diary, the 1996 one.  I was 19, left Taiping to live in the city with sister for the first time.  The city, the new home, new life - it was also my sister's big new life that year: marriage, first born, a new house, a husband...she was only 24.

There were so many entries that shocked me, for I couldn't remember the things that happened.  I stayed shocked and feeling messed up for two days.  My thoughts when I first read the diary: maybe I am really messed up as a person, and maybe I don't know how I got here but maybe the past had something to do with it.

I feel much better now though.  So many things happened this year.  I managed to cough up my second album, Cinnabar Rouge; managed to produce and stage another concert...it was bigger and grander - I went through hell with all the work (stress, as the leading lady and as the producer).  It was a challenge to find a moment to feel proud with the work/achievements of this team - of Janet Lee.

Really, I cannot complain.  I wanted to do all that: another concert, to dance, to entertain and to work with the people, the music - to give a good show.  I guess I just wanted a shoulder to lean on.  I cannot even imagine how it would be like if you were still around.

Post concert - post album launch depression came.  Things are different this time round, times are harder, ticket sale took a while.  I had 80% attendance.  Album sale is slow now, I work from day to day to figure out what is next step to sell the next album.  I paid off everyone, having savings helped. The low-down isn't in the fact that I dig out savings to pay for things - it is in feeling inadequate to market this piece of work better, the fact that I am not getting as much attention from people as before - it is just my feeling.

I understand, as my work matures and the higher I climb - the higher the expectations and the bigger base I need.  Yet I haven't a bigger base - fan base hasn't grown big enough, I still work alone...

And I am just tired, and lonely.

Strangely though, after I was done making a check list of all the downs and feeling bad about feeling bad - I have a surreal sense of excitement.  I wonder where all these emotions are taking me next.

While I am sorting things out - or waiting it out - or just floating along - I am hooked on Alain de Botton's work.  I got addicted to watching his The School of Life videos and his talks on YouTube every night/day.  His teachings on pessimism calms me.

And back to basic - I am allowing music work to excite me and to ground me once again.  Forget the shits of life for a moment, I shall face the music and let myself get whirled into its magic once again.

I am inherently grateful to be alive.  I think of your kindness.

The pad is quiet again, it's back to just me here.  I love it here.


Love you much,

B

Quote from [My Year Of Meats] by Ruth Ozeki (FB post)

Fresh off two separate Jane Goodall's outings last week; having just finished reading Ruth Ozeki's [My Year Of Meats] (definitely not what I expected when I started); and halfway watching Leonardo D's [Before The Flood] documentary; and also signed up to go to the Cowspiracy Screening by Malaysian Nature Society - I am juggling between trouble-shooting at work and self-reflective mode. The need to balance work and life, rest and work, and to simplify, and empathise. 

I will take my time to organise my thoughts of them all in due time, in the meantime I am compelled to remind us, an excerpt from Ozeki's novel, in the second last chapter of [My Year Of Meats]: 

"I would like to think of my 'ignorance' less as a personal failing and more as a massive cultural trend, an example of doubling, or psychic numbing, that characterises the end of the millennium. if we can't act on knowledge, then we can't survive without ignorance. So we cultivate the ignorance, go to great lengths to celebrate it, even. The faux-dumb aesthetic that dominates TV and Hollywood must be about this. Fed on a media diet of really bad news, we live in a perpetual state of repressed panic. We are paralysed by bad knowledge, from which the only escape is playing dumb. Ignorance becomes empowering because it enables people to live. Stupidity becomes proactive, a political statement. Our collective norm." 

#reading #reflecting #goodreads #RuthOzeki #janetwrites #books #novels#JaneGoodall

More than a decade later...

December 31st, 2015  - January 1st, 2016


New year's eve.  Staying in.  Doing banking errands at home on my desktop, on new year's eve after turning down invitation to dinner gathering, has a surprisingly calming effect on the restless soul.

Banking done.  Decided to do some filing.  Condo maintenance bills, income tax papers, bank statements, signed contracts, insurance statements, etc.

I flipped right to the back of my contract folder, to look at all my old contracts, including my monthly salary slips from my day jobs.  What a journey back in time, to refresh my mind of how many ringgit I was pulling in for Lee Shu Fun, as an executive, as a chorus girl, a new wedding singer, a supporting actor, as main actor, as "function singer", as 'Diva of the night"...

There was an invoice dated July 8, 2007 where I billed the American Embassy for a performance of Negaraku at the 231st anniversary of US Independence reception at the Marriott KL, held on July 5th, 2007.  I remember having to go to the embassy office to sing Negaraku in an office, to audition for the job.  I was such a nerve wreck I sang like a moron.  Ellen, the sweet lady overseeing the process, let me send in another `audition tape' where I was able to sing properly.  When I actually perform the song at the reception, the whole evening felt like a miracle - just two seconds before I stepped into place and sang Negaraku with the American navy band, the massive truckload of butterflies in my stomach disappeared and I sang with a grace that I didn't know I was capable of.  I was proud to be a Malaysian who was picked to sing that night I guess.  Later on, Datuk Sharizat complimented me on the performance.

Somewhere in the neat pile of old invoices and payment slips, I found a photocopied examination report from Trinity, signed by (I think) Harold James, on December 2nd, 2004.  I scored 90 out of 100 for Performer's Certificate - Singing.  The four songs for the exam were La Promessa by Rossini, Haydn's With Verdure Clad, Schubert's Liebesbotschaft and Sondheim's Green Finch And Linnet Bird from Sweeney Todd.  I remember practising really hard for the exam.  When I stepped into the tiny classroom at UM to face my first ever singing examiner, a stern looking white gentleman no less - there must have been a maturity in my spirit back then, much more than I think I possessed, of how I coped with that kind of stress.  I'm impressed, just recalling this.  Oh, I also did something that I think nobody in Malaysia has done before - I took off my underwear minutes before going into the room, because the silly dress that I wore for the exam (I believe I was the only one that day/afternoon wearing a formal evening dress.  It was a form fitting black gown, something I imagine Holly Golightly and Audrey Hepburn would wear - that I bought at a Sydney flea market) was so bloody tight that my panty line was showing.  And I thought it was bad taste to perform beautiful repertoire in a nice dress with VPL.  My girlfriends from the classical singing circle would always laugh at me and think I did well because I didn't have my panties on.

Then there's a printed email dated May 14, 2003 from Sharanya Manivannan, to all the performers of a fundraiser for All Women's Action Society Malaysia, show titled "Crescendo: Raise Your Voice".  The performance was at No Black Tie, held on May 18th, 2003.  The other performers of the night included Bernice Chauly, Chacko Vadaketh, Harish Shankar (my pianist for the performance where I sang Hammerstein's Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man and Puccini's Quando Men'vo - god knows what was I thinking, to pick a Puccini), Jerome Kugan, Joanna Bassey, Markiza, Pete Teo, Saidah Rastam, Sharany of course, Shelley Leong, and Zedeck Siew.  Holy cow, 13 years later and looking at the names, a star-studded cast list - I can't recall how I got in that line-up.

It still feels like an accidental fluke.  How did I get from being a full time starstruck to being here?

Even though I'm glad to be here now, older and more confident; I will always reminisce my younger days' antics with fondness - when I walked up to Harith Iskander at Tower Records to tell him that I adore his work; that time after watching Gold Rain and Hailstone I asked for Jit Murad's signature and he planted a big kiss on my hand (am sure I didn't want to take a shower after that), when I chatted with Mew Chang Tsing on a bench outside of Actors Studio Theatre at Dataran...

I bet there were more happy moments like that if I read my old diaries.

I don't think I have the same balls I did when I was in my early twenties.  I can't think of anything crazy I have done in the last 5 years, that compares to those above.  Never been a big fan of being the most ambitious person on the block.  Insecure and doubtful are more like me.  Sure, I'm good at masking that now when I go on stage, I have had more than 10 years of getting good at faking it.

Walking on stage in the dark in a pair of Fion Poon stilettos next to an eleven-piece band at my own concert felt like walking on thin rope.  Basking under beautiful lights on stage and belting out originals felt like dream.  Taking a bow in front of full houses of audience felt like the best kind of birthday presents.

Now that I have done it and survived, I'm a little scared of what I have to achieve next.  Naturally, I'm expected to top that.

Perhaps I will, or perhaps I will not.  Que sera sera.

For now, I think I better take one thing at time.  Gotta stop competing all the time, and live a little.  2016, more holidays and more calmness at work.  I hope I find more wisdom.

Happy new year.

Letters number one hundred and twenty nine: The days go on

Dearest J,

Two days ago, I finally packed your two pairs of pants away - the two pairs that have been hanging on the back of the master room door...since 2010.  Of course they were left hanging there intentionally, since you last left them there.  One blue jeans and one black working pants, a bit faded and one can't tell if it's really black or if it's brown.

Can't put a name to this behaviour - deliberately not packing away 100% of your belongings here.  Is it a secret desire, a secret wish that having your things around will make the memories of you linger longer?

What really happens is that I keep living, and moving forward with my life...but every time I start to clean up your things little by little - the moment I confront my decision to move the items away from its existing position, I am plunged straight to the hollowness and poignancy of the state of things: you  were here before.

I also finally clean out your bedside drawer, the tiny drawer on your side - what used to be your side of the bed.  I took my time before I picked out each and every piece of old receipts, used tissues, unused tissues, name cards, folded notes and what not - and placed them gently into a plastic bag, to be thrown away.  I found a 1 Ringgit note stuck in between a receipt.  These were the contents of your pockets then.  Your habit of emptying your pockets into this little drawer.

Clearing this drawer was a little more painful than the two pants - I checked the pockets of the pants, nothing left.

This home is a little cleaner and neater now, despite it being older now.  There are cracks on the cheap bathroom basin cabinets, the pale green kitchen blind is now stained with the years.

I really dig cleaning the flat, bit by bit, corner by corner, room to room.  Decluttering it slowly makes me feel "ready" for anything ahead.

Will I ever be fully ready for all that's to come? Will I have the courage to make things, people come to me?

Don't know, just live from day to day...

No complaints.

Forever,

B

Memories: breakup then and now

"Your face looks like it's been hit by a truck."  The first joke after our breakup.  He coaxed me to stop crying, well I didn't stop right away but that did make me laugh.

My first and only breakup was in 2004, after our first two years together.  Second year was lots of small but unpleasant fights, I grew overly dependant on him, the passion and fun were lost in the mundanity of a lifeless routine - I was too young and foolish to see that it was going to pieces, slowly.

"I don't remember the last time we have fun together anymore.  When we fight so much nowadays, it makes us forget all the good things we had."

"I didn't miss you when I was away."
"So what?" I said.
"I don't think we should do this anymore."

Though it was done gently, it was my first.  The gentle blow hit me like a truck indeed.  We lay in the darkened room and discussed what to do next.  There was no yelling or scolding.  All of that were done months before and led to the quiet explosion of that night when he said he didn't want to do this anymore.

Heart broke into pieces, tear gate flushed and there was no turning back.  But looking back now, I remember it was all very gentle, extremely gentle.

I remember we even went out for a night stroll in the city, Bukit Bintang area.  Either the night we broke up or the night after.  I wore a cotton army hat to cover my swollen eyes, favourite blue jeans, a black bra and a black see through mesh blouse.  He took a photo of me that night, the print is somewhere in some box in some corner of my house now.

We walked gently, talked gently, the gentle farewell to romance I guess.

After I found a place to move in to, he took me shopping at IKEA and bought me a few book shelves for my new home.  We took everything back ourselves and he stayed the day to assemble everything for me.  I bought a brand new super single bed.  My new place was beautiful, small, and clean.  My chief tenant was an aircraft engineer who lived in the master room and he kept the flat wonderfully clean.

It wasn't all easy and pretty like my new rented room of course - buying things for my new home was the easy part.  Walking away from the relationship in one piece took a lot more effort.  My colleagues back then were lovely bunch, I can't remember exactly what they did for me but I remember them being lovely to me.  The first few weeks were terrible - focusing at work and keeping a calm composure.

Before my move out of his place, watching him coming home late at night and being confused was hard.  Once he came home, evidently he had one too many drinks, he walked to our bed with his helmet still on his head and proceed to lie down.  I could only imagined what was on his mind, the not knowing was painful.  I wrote an entry about the not knowing and the cease of communication:


it hurts me to see you like this.  
it hurts to know that i don't know how you feel. 
it hurts even more to know that i have probably never really know how you feel. 
it hurts like crazy to know that i have stopped being the person you confide in at the end of the day. 

i'm still here. 

you've hurt me but i'm still here, you can cry on my shoulders. 
yes i know it's stupid but my heart tells me to. 
you may not love me anymore but i'm still the same person you talked to. 

damn it, i'm still the same person. 

you are feeling unjust that the world hasn't given you what you deserve for your efforts. 
you are feeling tired in the head and in the mind. 
you are feeling unhappy, i can tell from your face. 

if only i can be that person you confide things to again... 
if only. 

He was very very kind to me, he helped me set up the new life.  After the new home was installed, I was independent again.  I wrote a lot of blog entries, I read books, I went out and have many meals alone, some with friends.  And he would be around sometimes, we stayed as good friends.  Back to our old days before our romance - we chatted at Mamak after work.

"Move out of his space, and let the bastard miss you." My best friend told me when she first got over the initial shock of the news.

The breakup was good for me - it forces me to grow up, to reflect on myself, and to chase after my independence and discover my art again (and that is another story).

The breakup was good for him - for him to break away from an almost abusive relationship and to reclaim his right for a more loving friend and relationship.

The breakup was good for us - we reset the friendship, reviewed our behaviour and started fresh as friends again. Our friendship was rekindled and we got to remind ourselves again why we enjoyed each other's company at the first place.

I know I was lucky to have only gone through only one breakup in my life, and what more, one that broke my ego and built me up again.  I don't know what you can learn from my story, it's just me putting them down in words, and share my reflection of what was experienced back then - all of 11 years ago.

We eventually got back together again, about 7 months later, as a couple.  The partnership took to a great new height and we hardly have fights after that, we bonded more, we truly appreciated each other more, we became 'bestest' of friends.  We live and let live and we promised each each other to grow old together, marriage or no marriage - we want to be each other soul mate.

So that is my happy ending breakup story.

I wrote this as a self-preparation for an imminent separation of a very different kind of relationship.  Romantic or platonic, I think separation and breakups are there to teach us and help us become stronger and better people.

Letters number one hundred and twenty-eight: The days go on

Dearest J,

I just finished reading Kafka On The Shore.  Don't think Murakami was one of the authors you read...? Not sure.

The album is out, the two-night concert was a success.  For a little while, of a few days, many friends and friends of friends talked about it.

It was all so overwhelming and gosh, I didn't know where my strength came from..

To work non-stop under the great stress of finishing recordings and organising the concert; of preparing myself for the concert: face my songs and the audience, and brave the enormous beauty of the 11-person ensemble for Restless Heart.

Yet I've lived.  I think I'm enjoying the fruits of my labour - my mind is pretty clear now for most part  - in the sense that I allow myself to sit back and enjoy the smallest and most important pleasure of being an artist now: the afterglow, the quiet afterglow.

Like today...

I woke up a minute before 8am, stayed in bed...slept a while more.  Woke up again a while later and drifted between reading Kafka and checking FB and sleeping more.  Got up finally at 10am.  I put some porridge to boil, hung up laundry, slowly stir fry some vegetables (long beans and broccoli), sautéed needle mushrooms, branched purple cabbage with olive oil and soy sauce, fried an egg.  I ate two bowls of porridge with the dishes, over the novel; I ate slowly and took my time to wash the dishes.  After lunch I treat myself further - reading on the sofa, not enough, I poured myself the Yozu sake I bought from Kobe.  I napped in between reading and finally finished the novel at 3pm.

What a life right.

Put all those months of rushing between gigs and recordings and late night meetings and rehearsals and deadlines and stress and sleepless nights and not eating well and getting skinny into perspective...

Every now and then, more so now that I can slow down pace, I think about you and wonder about all sorts of things.

Even though I move fast on my toes and sometimes too fast to catch a breathe, I always, often wondered why life would be if you're still around.

Would I have made the album?  Would I write songs?  Will we go to London together?  .....

What I know for sure is that if you were here when I make the album and concert, you'd be really happy for me and proud of it all for me.

Your parents and Mama came to the concert on first night.  I gave copies of my CD to Alex, Yan and your parents.  Your mom asked for 5 copies to sell for me.

The journey after this is pretty much...another chapter, I guess the chapter before and up to the point of concert was called "WORK IT".  What comes after this is perhaps "Make It Last"?

The memories of you will last for a long long time.  I like this conversation at the end pages of Kafka On The Shore a lot, put it down here for you:

"Are memories such an important thing?"

"It depends," she replies, and closes her eyes. "In some cases they're the most important thing there is." 

"Yet you burned them up." 

Forever yours,

B

Restless Heart - album-making diary #4 (January 7th, 2015)

 FB entry on January 7th, 2015

[album-making-diary] [Restless Heart album] My friends told me this is the closest I would get to being pregnant - giving birth to an album. I cannot agree more.

All the hours spent inside the studio and near the studio (lunch break, dinner break, suppers, brunch, breakfast, etc); all the hours spent there chatting, working, eating, dreaming, arguing, laughing and crying - I guess, are like the ups and downs of someone waiting to go into labour.

It dawned on me only a short while ago (weeks) that for first timer in album-making, am charging in this brand new field with am ambition so colossal that you would think am either stupid or foolish, or both. A full album of 10 songs that I hope to complete within two moths, all of the songs selected vastly challenging.

If it wasn't for my ego (to finish what I have started) and how foolishly dreamy I am - I would have deem this project suicidal and lethal and raise the white flag. Secondly, "the show must go on" - for the love of those who believe in me and became part of the project and left me a piece of themselves - without these lovers I cannot go on.

We started recording vocals on the 4th song last night. The album title song is now ready to be mixed. It was emotional to listen to the rough mix of Restless Heart and recalled the years I have behind me since I first learn this killer song. I told my producer Seah Song-fan that I am finally proud, of myself (not because the singing on the track is perfect) - for the work that have gone into the song. Thank you Zalina Lee and Elvira Arul for lending your crazy magic in the back up vocals. And Tay Cher Siang for being bossy enough to make me do this, much much love to you, stay bossy.

The songs on this album requires the full spectrum of a singer's voice and abilities - thanks to the faith (and talent) that my composers/arranger have on me, for writing beautiful but complicated materials that call for a `super singer' to take on. The range, tone and character required to do the songs well are frankly, beyond me at the moment. "What were you thinking Janet??" I guess I wasn't thinking enough when the material came to me, I fell in love with the songs and with my own stories and I dived head in, now my body is wet and and cold but my soul is very happy, despite being very scared.

Of course then came along the madness and intensity of an artist from another planet, Song-fan Seah who was crazy enough to say "Let me help you." Without even knowing the album material first, he invested his belief in me.

Now months later, and hundreds of hours of coaching later - Song-fan is still deep in coaxing and guiding the better versions of me to come into light. His bottomless energy (is freaking out of the world that I think he is alien) and tireless approach in teaching moved me so and help me stay focus in the recording booth - no matter how many times I have been asked to sing a line, I keep going, because he can.

Constructive feedback from Song-fan and colleagues help me discover so much of my own voice I never heard or know. It is like living under the same roof with this person for so many years and now for the first time, discovering a new, extremely attractive side of her that you have previously overlooked. Or like staying in the same house all your life but never ever step foot in a room full of treasures - and discovering it after 10 years (this one calls for a separate entry).

I can hear my own voice now, some are clear and confident, some are shy and unsure of itself, yet. There's still so much to do before I wrap the vocal recording of all 10 songs and am happy to say that I'm hooked on the process of discovering. The work is tedious and at times rather gruesome but the rewards are...I have no word for it.

It's a good time to be alive now. Thank you for reading this long post and I hope to share more stories again soon. The studio schedule is hectic this month (this is the last stretch of the race) but there will be lots of updates soon, regarding the Restless Heart concert this March at DPAC. - so sit tight and stay tune.

Album cover shoot next week!!! Weeeeeeee!
#restlessheart #janetleealbum #albummaking #debutalbum #janetleemusic#grateful #living #album #music #janetwrites #diary