the words slipped from my mouth

the words slipped from my mouth... and i didn't take them back

how can i? when

they are mine own words

they speak what i think

i wish they didn't cut you 

i wish i can allow myself

to eat them down

stop them from bubbling forth

but i can't

i can't shut them in 

and so i lay them there

with their edges poking out

and i pray that i can kiss the wounds

my words have caused.

1 John 4:19

There are flashes, moments, days,
When I just want to isolate
myself from everyone else,
Withdraw into myself.

Because to love others is to plate
out your heart
for hurt and pain.

But when I want to put up a wall,
stop my feelings from bearing it all,


I will remember He who has first loved me,

And I will follow Him,
In His love,
in His radical self-abandoning love.

Review: Memento (Chris Nolan)

SPOILERS

How do we find truth?

We build it upon certain, known, established facts. So it seems as though the only way to get the whole picture of the truth is by corralling different facts which surely will cohere neatly into a unified body of knowledge.

That was the premise that Memento advertised to us. It’s a movie about a man who suffers from short-term memory loss and who has to find out about the events surrounding his wife’s murder. IMDb says so. Wikipedia says so. It’s marketed as a sort of whodunit, and the audience patiently watches Leonard’s journey as he writes down clues -  “mementos” – to build a picture of the truth from the ground-up.

In any good detective fiction, it’s normal to have assumptions. You need to have assumptions to build a hypothetical scenario of how the crime happened. But the danger lies in building an entire case around pre-assumptions, i.e. prior knowledge that you think are certain and that you never questioned. From the beginning of the movie, we are told that “Teddy is a liar”. We (Leonard and the audience) take it, we don’t question it, we think it to be true. As the movie works its way forward in time, which is itself an interesting narrative device, the statement that “Teddy is not to be trusted” seems to align with what is happening. It has the appearance of truth.

But at the very end of the movie, which is when the chronological action actually starts, we see how this pre-assumption is totally wrong. Turns out… Teddy isn’t a liar. The basic premise that we’ve been operating on, is actually entirely false. Knowing this, we then see how we’ve misinterpreted every other fact that we have assimilated into our “truth” jigsaw puzzle. And the big irony is that by revealing us events from the past, the movie is depicting the danger of building our views based on past assumptions.

Even the way the movie is marketed is an example of this. The summary shows that it’s a movie about the unreliability of memory. With this “knowledge” given to them even before they watch the movie, the viewers are lulled into thinking that the major problem in this detective story is Leonard’s memory loss. We suspect that his memory will be the “tragic flaw” that will lead him and the audience astray. But we think because we know this (a pre-assumption), all we have to do to anticipate this trap and steer clear of it. In the end, however, we see how we’ve actually misread Teddy, Leonard - the entire movie - based on that one false premise we never sought to challenge. 

Eyes upon Jesus

Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of the earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His glory and grace

"I'm Manuel" Can't

Manuel needs at least three Bs to be deemed worthy enough for a university education. His excellence in basketball, his fierce overprotectiveness towards his little sister, his insurmountable ability in making fluffy pancakes – they mean nothing.

It’s strange how a paper determines who you are. Manuel supposes it’s because people like making things fast, snappy, and, worst of all, easy. People like reading a something short, as if that would give them the whole picture.

So Manuel stops his basketball. He stops taking Isabella to the park. Pancake-making belonged to a past he has severed from himself now.

Now who is he? A shiny gold plate stating his “achievements”. A culmination of certificates, grades, and the calculated utility he brings to society. These are what he must use to justify the little space he occupies in this planet.

“I’m Manuel” can’t be the reason for his existence any longer. 

Submitted for Ad Hoc Fiction's flash fiction competition. 

No Other Name

Recently one of my friends shared on Facebook something about her latest achievement.  And while I'm supremely glad for her, the niggling desire to achieve greatness myself and the profound sadness at not having achieved it, punctured me.

This isn't anything new for me. Since an unbeknownst age, a competitive spirit, or a prideful spirit, or a spirit in need of validation, has been germinating in me. At times it remains dormant, but sometimes it springs up and displays its ugly thorns. More often than not, those jealous, insecure feelings prick me when people appear to be doing better than me, achieving more in life.

In my head, and deep down in my heart, I know that as much as I should strive to be the best self that I can be and that I should strive always to improve myself, I shouldn't hinge my entire identity on achievements, or relationships, or even about how good I feel about myself. These things are inconstant, ephemeral, changing always like the shifting shadows. Instead, the foundation of who I am, the very fibre of my being is laid on being a rescued child of God. This I know changes not.

This is my challenge: to do the things that need to be done not for my validation, but for the glory of God and the service of men. If I do get recognized or appreciated, through my service, through my ministry, through my career, may it be. But if not, may I be more than content, more than joyful in the station allotted to me.

But these feelings of jealousy, of insecurity, of discontent, this overwhelming sense of failure wash over me at times. I feel sickened by my greed, the greed of wanting greatness in the conventional sense of the word, of wanting my successes acknowledged, of wanting to be admired and lauded. There's always more to be wanted.

As I'm struggling with all these conflicting feelings, these desires both noble and wicked, God's word, unfailingly, pierces through the murky depths of my heart:

"Hallelujah!
For our Lord God Almighty reigns.
Let us rejoice and be glad
and give Him glory!"
-Revelation 19:6-7

Reading these words, I really feel it: the greatest joy is not in puffing up my own self-esteem which desires to be petted and soothed like a ravenous beast, but the greatest joy is in the simple joy of knowing Jesus and calling Him my Lord.

Avatar the Last Airbender

Went on a nostalgia trip and started binge-watching Avatar the Last Airbender again.

For so many many reasons, Aang was - or rather, is - my favourite character of the show.

I get that some people don't like him, and that some people find him annoying. I get it, I understand it, and I'm not going to force anyone to like him.

But what bugs me is when people comment on his age, use it as proof for his so-called "immaturity". He's too young for Katara not because of his personality, or anything he's actually done, but because he's... *gasp* twelve.

Apparently, for such people, a 12 year-old is old enough to master all four elements, defeat the Fire Lord, and bring peace to the world, but not old enough to love a girl only 2 years older than him.

Watching the series again, I shall reaffirm without hesitation that as much as every character has laid stakes on my little fangirl heart (with the exception of Combustion Man), Aang's stake is undeniably the largest. He's so different from other protagonists I've seen from other shows. Aang was a character who had as many flaws as he has commendable qualities.He wasn't a brooding, anguished kid, but he wasn't a naive, goofy kid either. He's made mistakes, he carries around his brand of shame and guilt; but instead of letting it weigh him down, he turns it into motivation for helping others, for helping the world.

He has seen the world in all its ugliness and brokenness, but yet possesses the courage, the audacity, to smile, to laugh, and to cling onto the good and the beauty.


#seriousfangirlposts

Hidup Rakyat

I’m going to straight up admit the fact that I’m not as energetic as the other participants attending the Bersih 4.0 rally, i.e. I wasn’t going around blowing the vuvuzelas or holding up witty banners or joining in the chants. Sorry lah, I’m quite a reserved person haha.

But I’m glad for the people who did do all that. And I'm glad for the crowds and crowds of people who turned up, whether they were making their support known quietly or vocally. I was beginning to worry that cynicism and disillusionment were wearing away at the rakyat, and that only a small group would attend the rally. But boy was I proven wrong. The city was practically crawling with yellow-shirted Bersih supporters. And not counting the portion of rally-goers who weren’t decked out in yellow.

But before we pat ourselves on the back with the 200,000+ people who turned up, there were certain instances during the rally that niggled at me uncomfortably. I was making my way along the street to the gathering point when I hear a field commander giving orders in Mandarin. I thought to myself, how would our non-Chinese-speaking friends understand? And sure enough, there were certain rally-goers who were looking lost, not understanding the instructions being given. Why can’t the field commanders speak in BM, our national language instead? And if the FC really does want to speak in Mandarin, can’t he supplement it with BM too?

The stigma that Bersih is another Chinese-dominated, pro-Opposition rally is still there, and to be honest, we’re not doing a great job at eradicating it. So many people are unhappy with the way things are run, but because of this perception that Bersih is just a means of pushing the political agenda of the Opposition, people have chosen instead to disengage from it.

Bersih is supposed to be organised by an independent organisation, i.e. the gathering is not supposed to be skewed towards any political party. But yet we have speakers criticising Barisan Nasional, Opposition leaders making speeches to the crowd, and a PKR flag carried around in the march.

So I'm left wondering - what is the purpose of Bersih? Is it just supposed to be another Opposition-engineered propaganda-filled event, or is it genuinely an avenue in which Malaysians can express their displeasure and dissatisfaction at the current state of the country? (or more specifically, at a certain someone responsible for the current state of the country).

And as this article  points out, we’re not garnering enough support from our Malay brothers and sisters. I will be wrong if I said I didn’t see any; for instance, I saw a Malay man who, out of courtesy, tucked himself away in a corner to pray. On the whole, however, the event is still largely Chinese-dominated.

I’m not saying this to put the Bersih organizers down or to say that the rally won’t make a difference. But I believe that we need to address the wrongs and be brutally frank about them, if we genuinely want change. Because despite the flaws and cracks, I still see hope for a better, stronger, more united Malaysia. And I want us, Malaysians, to see that too.

I will say this. It was a peaceful rally. No one (at least not anyone I can see) was provoking others or trying to stir up trouble, some even brought flowers to help defuse some of the potential tension the situation might cause. The traffic police helped direct the rally-goers on their march, and generally left them alone. And a mega shout-out to the eco warriors who were picking up rubbish from the street and distributing garbage bags, and also the volunteers giving out water bottles to the participants.

And like I said before. The city was crawling with Bersih supports. There was such energy, such spirit, such camaraderie as the people gathered to call for justice. And it is hard – in fact, impossible - to ignore such an uplifting atmosphere. Really at that moment, you can feel Malaysia being Malaysia, and you cannot feel prouder of being her rakyat.

I'm not expecting a sudden great change, I'm not expecting Malaysia to be made better overnight. I went there with the purpose of standing in solidarity with my fellow countrymen who love their tanah air and are fighting for it. And I’m glad I did. #HidupRakyat

Bersih 4.0

I'm going to say it straight up.

I'm scared.

I'm scared of what may happen. I'm scared of possible violence. I'm scared of getting pushed into a corner. I'm scared most of all, at the possibility that this is all for naught.

Will the rally change anything? I don't know. There's only a very slim chance that it would. But I feel I need to be there. I need to be there, not to support the Opposition, not to add the experience to my collection of "fun things to do", not even to topple the government (whatever that means).

I'm doing it because I believe I'm standing in solidarity with those who are advocating for a better Malaysia, for a better tomorrow, for justice and peace in my tanah airku.


Lord, I'm scared. But I know that Your justice and righteousness and sovereignty reign over Malaysia.

In His hands

Note: I've written for my personal diary, but I've decided to share it here. Written this late at night, so sorry if the writing is a bit clumsy at places. Might come back and polish it up. 

--

Felt so so so convicted that i have not been praying for the nation. Here i am wanting change, advocating change, calling for change - but I have not spent time in repentance and prayer, going on my knees in supplication for God to establish His rule and kingdom over this nation.

Lord Jesus. I pray for Your will and sovereignty to be established in this land. I trust that Your justice will be fulfilled - even if it does not come during my lifetime, or even in this earth's lifetime.

I was praying to God about Malaysia. And I don't know. I do not think that I have the gift of prophecy, so I don't know what is God's plan for Malaysia, I don't know what is Malaysia's fate. Will we free ourselves from the bondage of corruption and racial chaos? Will we free ourselves from the fetters of gospel hindrance?

I don't know.

But I'm praying. I'm praying first of all, that all Malaysians will be humbled. That all Malaysian Christians will humble themselves, get on their knees and pray to God. (2 Chro 7:14). And that all Malaysians will turn from wanting to abuse and exploit the system, will turn away from inciting hatred and disharmony, will turn away from indifference and apathy. Will turn away from not only corruption, but also silent participation and compliance to the very same corruption.

I pray for repentance.

But I don't know what will happen to Malaysia. Times are uncertain - but that is life. I was reading Jeremiah 51, and I kept trying to extrapolate a meaning from it - are we like Babylon? Will judgment be visited upon us? Or are we Israel? Upon whom God's favour rests?

But the thing is. That is not how the text is to be applied in these current circumstances. What Jeremiah 51 tells us is not regarding ourselves, but regarding God. It's not a "prophecy" or a statement about what God's plan for our country is, but rather it points us to the character of God. God is a just and holy God, a sovereign God. And whether or not, change will truly come to Malaysia this time round, we can rest assured that God's plan will prevail. We shall fight for justice, for social cohesion, for harmony, for an efficient and people-serving government. But ultimately, this is all in God's hand. And in His hand I trust.

TEDxKL 2015

   

    Last Saturday I went for my first ever TED talk. I LOVE the concept of there being a platform for people to present different ideas to the world, and I do enjoy the content and talks they've put together. Surfing through their websites and YouTube for videos, one of the talks I was most struck by was the one by Sangu Delle who was a strong proponent of macrofinance (as opposed to microfinance) in Africa. It left such an impression on me, and since then I told myself that I would attend a TED event the next chance I get. Moreover, seeing so many of my friends attending TED events and even being part of the organizing team, I was curious and excited to see what it's like for myself.

    So arriving at Bukit Jalil stadium, I was prepared to be mindblown by the talks prepared for us. Registration starts at 11am, and being totally green to this TED thing, I arrived at 10.30am thinking that we had to be there on the dot. Turns out though, that the actual event starts at 1pm, so haha I had two hours to burn. But it didn't feel like such a long wait though. There were definitely cool exhibitions to look at, and the stadium had a sort of festival vibe to it. Music was blaring through the speakers, food trucks were lined up right outside, and people were just chilling and chatting around the premises. I was to learn later on that our tickets included our lunch as well, which was provided by the multitude of food trucks hovering around the area. This I really appreciated haha!

    The decor was really cool too: 2 large slabs of blackboard were placed outside the entrance for people to write messages on, and there were paint-filled red balloons tacked onto a wooden board for people to pop with darts.WhatI liked the most were the boards that had "TEDxKL" and "Infinity and Beyond" spelled out using string. (Yes, string! It was crazy awesome).

     I used those two hours people-watching and reading a book, and then I met up with a friend of mine. DiGi had a photo booth there too, so we made full use of it. 

     Finally the event started at 1pm, and I was psyched for it!

     Before the actual speakers presented their ideas though, the organizers played some videos of TED talks from other countries, so that was pretty interesting. (At least it added to my knowledge of 3D printing).

     The talks were really interesting (of course!), and we were spoiled by a wide range of great presenters like James Lee (Malaysian film director), Tommy Tan (breastfeeding advocate), Datuk Ramli Ibrahim (dancer), Afroz Ahmad Shah (earthquake specialist - really important in light of the Sabah earthquake!), etc. etc. And we had performances by local artists too like Sam Triggy and Juwita Suwito. 

     The talks that really drew me in though were the ones by Irshad Mobarak and Dr Kenneth Fong. Irshad is a naturalist but while he spoke a fair bit on the environment, he gleaned his ideas from the ecosystem of Malaysian rainforests and projected these onto a philosophical framework. For example, by explaining to us how the native lagestroma has adapted to the Malaysian climate, he is also encouraging us to be adaptable to changing circumstances in life. It felt like he was giving us a 360-degree sweep across fields of environmental science, history, sociology, and philosophy.

     Dr Ken Fong was a bit more straightforward in delivering his information. Basically, he's telling us about how to prevent myopia and telling us that we need to go outdoors and have a walk to counteract the effects of facing the phone/TV/computer screens all the time. No deep philosophy there, but much-appreciated advice and information.

    Anyway, despite the awesomeness of these speakers, I was really disappointed because the event was running over pretty late. The speakers were supposed to be presented with a gift of appreciation at 5.30pm, but the second session just concluded at that time. So I didn't get to listen to the speakers in the third session!But alas, leave I must.

    Sitting in the LRT on my way home, I was reflecting if there is a need for TED talks any longer. With the internet, information is pretty much accessible to anyone at anytime. With so many websites such as Reddit or Elitedaily or even news hubs curating content and ideas for readers, is it really necessary for an on-the-ground event? Though I would suppose that some may argue that TED talks are different because a wide array of topics have been selected to expose people to subjects they would not normally seek out. 

    But that's an article for another day. All in all, I really enjoyed my first TED talk, and while I was disappointed that I didn't get to see the third batch of speakers, I felt that no talk felt ted-ious (haha) and that every minute was time well spent. I've certainly learnt so much and I personally felt it was definitely an experience not to be forgotten!

Whyyyyy

Everyone's going off starting their own businesses and doing great things with their degrees, and I'm here at home reading an infographic about fecal matter. Like can you guys not be so darn brilliant in everything. :((((

About the Bible

     Very often, I have friends coming up to me citing a distasteful or a downright sinful incident that happened in the Bible. Lot's daughters committing incest. Excessive polygamy. With a look of (understandable) repulsion, they ask how could the Bible advocate such things?

     I'd like to address the perception is merely a book of moral teachings or encouraging sayings. Yes, the Bible puts forwards and proclaims the Good News of Jesus' death, and does touch extensively upon the necessity and the joy of leading peaceful and godly lives. 

But at the same time, the Bible is a historical record as well, an aspect that is often overlooked. There are many things that are horrific and violent, there are many things that our "heroes" do that are unscrupulous. Because just as much as the Bible is a book about God's holy character, the Bible also shows the fallenness and brokenness of our own human nature. It records these failings, not espouse them. And we can see as well the repercussions of these sins. Lot's descendants became the Moabites and the Ammonites, who were the enemies of Israel. King Solomon's wives were one of the reasons he turned away from God. Even if we do not see the consequences of an individual or nation's disobedience towards God, the Bible is consistent in saying that God will be the good and perfect Judge that He is. Hence, all I see is the thematic consistency in which humans continue to fail and disobey God, whereas God remains faithful, just, and merciful. 

Nudists "blamed" for Mt Kinabalu Earthquake?

     A band of tourists was arrested by the Malaysian authorities when pictures and news of their stripping naked and urinating atop Mount Kinabalu started circulating on social media, provoking the question of the balance between the individual’s freedom to have fun and the communal values of social cohesion. The arrest has been portrayed differently across the wide spectrum of foreign news channels, some more inclined to criticise the act of disrespect of the tourists, while others such as the Daily Star and the Sun seem to paint theportrait of a backwards, primitive Malaysian government casting blame of therecent Mount Kinabalu earthquake on the naked tourists.

Photographs of people committing allegedly indecent acts in public have often landed their subjects into trouble in Malaysia, with the cases of the balcony-sex couple and the woman who stripped in Petaling Street serving as examples. To try to force the idea that Malaysia is prosecuting the tourists for “causing” the earthquake – as a lot of British tabloids have insensitively done – is entirely wrong. It is clearly stated that they are arrested because of public indecency and for disrupting societal peace.

The issue here, therefore, is not of angering the mountain gods, nor one of the restricting a person’s choice in the way they dress, it is instead the basic issue of common courtesy. Regardless of one’s beliefs, one should afford that shred of respect towards others, especially towards the community playing host to one’s travels. It is sad if the individualistic world we live in has made it acceptable for public peace to be sacrificed for the “freedom” of one individual to act in whatever way he or she likes. Freedom of individual, if attained at the cost of the peace of society, is no freedom at all.

It is, however, terribly ill-timed that the pictures of the Mount Kinabalu nudists should have come right before the Mount Kinabalu earthquake that has taken the lives of nineteen people. The tourists’ act of nudity and urination, while displaying so thoroughly their lack of consideration and respect towards the place and its people, does not warrant an arrest. Insensitive as these pictures may be, it may not be appropriate to dedicate such scrutiny upon their allegedly obscene acts. Like the woman who stripped in Petaling Street, or the couple who had sex on the balcony, there are other, bigger problems to address than these individuals.

Perhaps the best action given the current situation would be to cease our fixation on these tourists, and to divert our attention on the recovery process in the wake of the Mount Kinabalu disaster. If ever we were to talk about the tourists, it must be about the importance of respecting the local customs and traditions of other countries and communities though we may not necessarily subscribe to them ourselves, rather than how they allegedly cause the earthquake.

I want to know more

The image that I have myself is someone who's on the brainy side, who likes looking at things from an intellectual side, who likes thinking critically and gleaning knowledge from everywhere and anywhere.

In a sense, it does fit my profile because I do enjoy learning and thinking about things from an intellectual perspective. And I guess that this passion has inflated my ego a bit too much, as I recently started thinking of myself as someone knowledgable.

Being in Durham University, and surrounded by people (from Durham and not from Durham alike) who are just so knowledgable, so smart, so quick-thinking, has been such a humbling experience. But instead of putting myself down for not knowing more (e.g. this morning I had mixed Zurich and Munich up), I'm just so thankful for all these individuals for showing me that knowledge is everywhere, and that every person has pieces of knowledge they can offer. More than that, there are so many commonsense, general knowledge that I realised that I still do not know, and that I have never questioned about. Being around all these wonderful people (re)ignited my desire to humble myself, to open up my eyes and ears more, and to absorb more from the world around me.

Thank you everyone who's been so contributive to the sharpening of my mind, and who's constantly keeping me on my toes, because you have reminded me time and again that there is so much of the world I have yet to experience, yet to see, yet to understand, yet to know. The amount of knowledge one has never remains stagnant, and I'm just so thrilled at the idea that there's just so much more out there for me to learn. 

True Malaysians

Whenever news of our fellow-Malaysians acting out in an unsavoury manner inundate our news feed, be it unashamedly stating a racist remark or behaving cruelly to another person, the comments that usually accompany such news are usually about how these people are not "true Malaysians" and that they in no way reflect the attitudes of our society.

While of course, these people who act out in such an unkind - and sometimes, downright nasty - way comprise a minority in the diverse strata of Malaysian society, the fact remains that they are part of our society. The prejudices, dissent, intolerance, and hatred that they stir up reflect a society that is still very much broken and fissured. Merely saying that they are not "true Malaysians" does not conceal this fact. Unpleasant as it may be,  we cannot dismiss them and say that they are not an accurate mirror of what "true-Malaysianness". To do so would be ignoring the ills of our country. If, say, a part of our body were infected, would we not try to remedy it? It would be insensible and in fact, dangerous, to neglect the infected areas as not being part of our "true body". Likewise, no matter how outrageous the actions done by a certain portion of our society, we cannot just say that they are not "true Malaysians".

They are just as Malaysian as we are, because if they have not cared, they would not have spoken. And we need to understand why they are saying these things, and we must address it. Their words may have been spoken out of ignorance, fear, arrogance, but all the more we must think of how to confront this rather than just packing their opinions away into a forgotten corner.

But as much as they reflect the ugliness and bitterness of Malaysia, I am glad for the Malaysians who choose instead to reflect the beauty, the hope, and the promise that Malaysia still has. These are the ones who deserve our commendation and attention, and it is their voices we need in inspiring and motivating us to constructively work towards a better Malaysia.

Literary Theory is Deconstructing my Brain.

So at Durham University we have this course called The Theory and Practice of Literary Criticism, in which we have to study famous theoretical movements such as Marxism, Feminism, Dialogism, etc.

Don't get me wrong, I quite like the course, and I find the theories fascinating.

But as I'm slogging through Deconstruction as part of my revision, I'm increasingly convinced that I'm able to cook up some groundbreaking theory by throwing into the "make-a-theory mould" a few abstract, fluffy ideas coupled with superfluous, complex vocabulary.


This post is written in jest, and out of extreme frustration. Maybe my brain is just too tiny to ardently appreciate these theories.

50th Anniversary of the Sound of Music

50 years - I cannot believe that 2015 marks the 50th anniversary of the Sound of Music. I remember how the beautiful landscape, the timeless songs, the lovable characters, humour, the warmth. Just everything about it is perfect. I will never tire of this movie, nor its songs.

Excuse me, as I cry in a corner. THE FEELS ARE JUST TOO STRONG.

Voting as an International Student in the UK elections

The topic that pervades everyone's minds as of right now is the forthcoming UK elections, and despite the fact that I'm "just" an international student, I'm going to vote. And no, not just because it's the "hot topic" as of now, or because of the hype, or because I'm brown-nosing, but because I genuinely want to make a difference. For someone who just turned of voting age, it's pretty darn exciting to be invited to have my say in the policy-making, and in the governance of the city I'd be living in for the next year.

Inevitably, there are difficulties in trying to know more about the political parties because I have no context to go by, being from a different country and culture. There are the advantages of having a fresh perspective because you are seeing the parties as they are rather than with the preconceived notions inherited from peers and parents, nonetheless there are still a lot of obstacles to overcome to form an accurate, objective opinion of the parties. For one, there is the media portrayal of the parties, a lot of which are exaggerated, brushstroke-like impressions that really taint a person's view of the parties, and distract someone from constructing an unbiased assessment of the party's candidates and their policies. Some of the generalisations are eagerly gobbled up by students (especially international ones, coming from an entirely different political background) simply because it's much more convenient to form simplistic views based on cheesy pictures with one-liners rather than actually doing research. The social media onslaught of memes, while funny, don't really give people much on which to build their opinions of their parties, and could potentially lead to false representations of the parties.

There is a double remove in being an international student with voting rights. Candidates tend to disregard the student population in the cities, and then there is the fact that you're an international. No one really pays attention to what you want, or what you need, or to what policies might help you. In Durham for instance, almost all the manifestos of the candidates contain proposals to clear the accommodation spaces in the city centre of students. Being international is doubly hard as immigration laws look to be on the clampdown, and education policies overlook international students. While there are proposals from Labour to cut home student fees to £6000 per annum, international student fees remain steadily on the rise, with an average increase of 4.8% from 2013-2014 according to a survey by Times Higher Education. Time and again, the internationals students are being sidelined by policy-makers even though each student pays £14, 000 to £20, 000 a year for tuition fees alone. The possibility that these students may start and build their lives here and that they may have something to add and contribute to the UK, is neglected. Perhaps this is because of the mindset that we're "outsiders"; this sentiment is in part formed through our own fault, but I also think it's partly because as people label us so, we start to think of ourselves as such and act accordingly.

While there are those who do not want to vote - and I respect and understand their decision not to - I'll be casting my ballot in the elections, because although I'll be graduating next year, whatever happens in the general elections will impact the people in this county, the country, and the international students streaming into Durham as well. What's more, the world is getting to be so globalised now, it's fallacy to think that another country's election happens in isolation, and that it wouldn't affect people on the other end of the planet. Immigration laws, education policies, foreign relations, they will all have repercussions on not just me, but everyone. For every action, there is a reaction, and as worn-out as this adage is, every vote certainly counts.

Um thanks Dove?

Dove in their latest campaign is trying to boost women's self-esteem and confidence by telling them to Choose Beautiful. Two signs are placed above two different doors, thereby forcing women to make the choice whether they are "beautiful" or "average" by which door they decide to walk through.

While Dove's campaigns are really positive and are meant to be empowering, personally I find it weird for people to think it sad that so many women did not choose beautiful.

Before everyone gets their pitchforks out and roast me alive for saying so, hear me out. Isn't it a tad bit reductive to say that these women suffer from low self-esteem just because they chose average? Aren't we imposing too much meaning by inferring that a girl's "idea of beauty" is distorted by media just because she didn't choose beauty?

Um, yeah to say the least.

Yeah it's true, there might be a portion of ladies who felt the message was a real confidence booster, a great reminder that they should feel comfortable in their own skin, being who they are.

But feeling comfortable isn't the same as feeling beautiful. One can feel happy with the way they look without feeling like they're extraordinary beauties, and isn't that the whole beauty about beauty in the first place? Yes, everyone enjoys a good compliment once in a while, but true beauty doesn't come from knowing you're beautiful, but from being contented even if you don't feel like you look like Miss Universe. The self-demolition comes only because media and society places so much emphasis on external beauty, so it wouldn't help really if we keep veering the conversation back to physical beauty. Even if it is for a good positive message, by asserting such importance on the "feeling like you're beautiful" trope, aren't we still trapped in the process of defining what is beautiful and what isn't?

That being said, I do like some of Dove's other ads, such as the Real Beauty campaign, with different body types. That was a really simple ad, it didn't ask anyone to "feel beautiful" or "choose beautiful", but it just basically asked us to embrace who we are. After all, being beautiful only happens not when we conform to the media, nor when we choose to be, but ironically, it happens when we don't even think about being beautiful.

Of Soup Runs

My boyfriend Nick brought me to help out in a soup run organized by an affiliation of churches in Bath called The Genesis Trust. Basically, volunteers from the churches that are a part of this initiative will sign up and are subsequently included in a rota, with each person helps out about once or twice a month.

It was about 7pm when Nick and I - having been given a lift by Jane and Hugh, who are presumably the leaders of this volunteer group - arrived at the carpark where the soup run would be. The night was pretty cold, and the carpark was fairly empty, so I wasn't sure if anyone would even be coming. But then, people started trickling in a couple of minutes later. A portable table was set up, along with huge flasks of tea and coffee, bags filled with sandwiches, a large pot of soup, and fruits. As I was a newcomer, and didn't have the experience or training of engaging with the homeless people, Jane asked me to stay with her, helping her man the table and distributing the coffee. There were other volunteers who went around giving out sandwiches and fruits, and really lending a listening, sympathetic ear to the people.

Of course, that didn't mean I was not to converse with them at all. There were a couple of them who stayed and chatted with me a little, asking about what I studied, where was I from, etc. It was really nice, and everyone was really amiable, asking for food and drinks politely, and standing around with their mates just catching up. There were a few people who were slightly disruptive, one of them was drunk and, with a bottle in hand, trying to provoke another person to a fight. But all in all, the soup run went on quite civilly.

There was a man who came in quite late, about 8.30pm. He looked dishevelled, but not from living on the streets, but rather because he had been in a scuffle. He came in, looking angry, raging about how the policemen are constantly trying to move him on. He took some food, and he wasn't rude to us or anything, but the whole time he was just venting out his anger at the coppers. I actually do sympathise with him, but obviously because I don't know the whole story, I choose to reserve my judgment. Based on what I hear and see, in general the police won't normally get rough with people unless they're disturbing public peace. There may be exceptions to this, there may be police officers who abuse their authority, but it's always best to listen to anyone's story with a pinch of salt.


What - or who, rather - I remember most is Bob, one of the homeless men who, noticing how cold my hands were getting, lent me his gloves to wear - and they were really warm gloves too. More than that, he helped the volunteers pick up the rubbish around the area and even helped us throw it away. He does this on a regular basis as well, as all the volunteers seem to know him and because Nick tells me so.

It's really important to see each person as individuals, individuals who are facing different circumstances, individuals who have different personalities. There are some who are genuinely the nicest people ever, and there are some who may not be so. It's so important to really get to know them, and to really try to understand things from their point of view. Chatting with Jane and Hugh, I thought it was really considerate the way they called them "clients", it shows how the volunteers were actually going to serve them and really listen to their problems. That's the most important part, perhaps - just showing some love, care, and concern without being judgmental or critical.

There may be some who became homeless because of addiction or the things they did, but instead of shunning them, we should try to help them get their lives together. It may be hard, especially as there are some who don't really want to help themselves, who don't want to fix their lives. It still doesn't mean we should just ignore them. We should try to help them out, though try also to challenge them to turn their lives around. And for those who are really trying to lift themselves from their homelessness, we really need to start thinking of how to help them on a practical level, rather than just offering ineffectual gestures of commiseration. There are loads of organizations that try to reinhabit them, Moving On, for instance. But I think it's difficult on their end too, perhaps because of bureaucracy, paperwork, and the myriads of cases they would have to deal with. (this is only a conjecture, having not come into contact with Moving On or any other related organizations before).

It's sad, because homelessness becomes an issue that gets sidelined, because sometimes there isn't a voice defending them. But how can we ignore such a large number of people who are displaced, left without a place to go? Some may argue and say that, "they have fully-functioning bodies, they can go and work!" It may be so. But how would we know the difficulties they may be facing? How can we even "judge" whether someone is deserving of help or not? The truth is, we don't. We have to help them, not by giving money, but by showing them a little warmth and kindness, by really trying to understand what they need, not what they want.

The First Draft is the Hardest

Yes, sing the title to the melody of "The First Cut is the Deepest". It was designed to sung so.

Writing my first draft of Shakespeare on Film essay - and clearly getting distracted. I know I should be sustaining my flow of thought, but this quote just crept into my mind.

"The first draft of anything is ****." - Ernest Hemingway.

I'm taking refuge in that thought! There's always a need to re-write what I've just written, to make it sound more intellectual or clearer or whatever, but when I do so I lose my train of thought and everything just sounds very choppy in the end. I think I need to just pen everything down first, get all my ideas out and then slowly, lovingly edit everything so it would be more coherently and beautifully phrased. You just (editorial you btw) can't write the first draft expecting everything to be perfect.

It's been a While.

I'm sorry for the recent hiatus. Disclaimer: This is not a full-on post, but just felt the need to post up something even though I don't necessarily have the time / brain power to write up a good piece.

Exam preparation has been taking up some time, and trying to write my two remaining summative essays best as I can. And I've been tinkering with lots of ideas for writing a story, so I've been pretty consumed with that as well.

Bad excuses for neglecting my blog! But hey, there are just so many things to do!!!

Am reminded of the Plath's fig tree in The Bell Jar - so many options to choose from, each representing a future, a path. And I, greedy as I am, want to do them all.

But yes, I'm enjoying myself thus far with the writing though my brain hurts at times (it's a good kind of hurt though). Just checking in, but now I'm signing off for now. My posts might be a bit sporadic for now, but hopefully will pick up speed once I've settled my two essays. (On the edge of finishing it, it's an exhilarating feeling - the feeling of accomplishment!)

Justice served?

Rape suspect killed by mob - CNN

Rape suspect killed by mob - BBC

Rape is a heinous, terrible act.  It should not be played down, taken lightly, tossed aside, sidelined. It should be punished – thoroughly and to the utmost.

But it should be punished by the proper authorities, if they are in place and if they do wield effectual power and judgment to do so. 


The news of a rape suspect being killed by a large, enraged mob has gone viral. According to reports, the rape suspect, by the name of Farid Khan, was forcefully dragged out of prison by the angry crowd before being stripped naked and killed.

What is more chilling than the news itself are its responses. All around the virtual world there are people approving of the act, saying that he deserved it and that the mob was well justified for doing what they did. People may say that justice is finally being served, that democracy has triumphed when the mob finally took up arms against the alleged rapist.

Bearing in mind that the man is a rape suspect, is it justice for citizens to kill a man that has not properly undergone trial, has not been given a guilty sentence yet? Bearing in mind that there is no indication that this 'protest' was planned calmly beforehand, is it democracy when ordinary people play executioner on an impulse rather than debate about it in a more level-headed, rational fashion?

The silence is equally disconcerting than the condemnatory voices. This piece of news should have opened more discussion in the current rape debates that have been running rampant in light of the gang-rape case in Delhi, 2012 (Sources: The Guardian, BBC). It would have demonstrated the level of outrage on India's ban on the documentary India's Daughter, it would have called to question the effectiveness of judicial systems in trying rape suspects. Most importantly, it would also raise ethical issues about vigilante justice. What is the balance between getting one's voice heard and between murder, violence, cruelty? How far is too far?

Media channels have underplayed it, the prison guards excused it by saying they couldn't stop the crowd, and news reports shed minimal discussion on the ethical issue of vigilante justice (if at all). The news melted into the background, as if the storming of a prison, the killing of a rape suspect is not any different from news of other street protests.

Will the killing of one man be sufficient to turn rape culture on its head? Not likely. But will violence begets violence? Chances are very high. Rape should be punished – thoroughly, and to the utmost by the law.

MH370

One year anniversary of the disappearance of MH370.


My prayers go out to you.

Beautiful Bario

About 2 months ago, my family and I along with a few family friends, went on a trip to the village of Bario in Sarawak.

Bario is a small village in the interior region of Sarawak, relatively cut off from our closely interconnected, familiar world. I say relatively cut off because getting there requires taking a separate Twin Otter journey from Miri, the phone signal is limited only to one provider (even then you are considered lucky if you have reception), Internet is only available in the e-centre, and material goods have to be flown in, again by little Twin Otter planes.

But although it is a small, relatively isolated village, the place is not to be considered prehistoric at all. There're nice brick houses and buildings dotting the village here and there, a string of shop lots as their market (known as Tamu), and a large church. People go around by four wheel drives and motorcycles, and they usually dress in clothes that are similar to what urbanites might wear. In the longhouse I stay at, there were televisions and bathroom facilities.

The people here are of the Kelabit tribe, one of the indigenous tribes living in Malaysia. If you trace down their roots, the villagers here are, in one or the other, related to each other - even if they belong to a separate longhouse. Such tight-knit relations might explain why despite not being as interconnected with the "outside world", so to speak, as most cities are, they are still very much interconnected in their little village. Everyone knows each other, or at the very least, knows of each other, and everyone knows the little events that go on - births, weddings, deaths.

As hinted earlier, most people would be staying in longhouses, each of which is home to a particular family, and could be considered a mini-village on its own. The longhouse I stayed in was Bario Asal, its literal translation would mean "Original Bario". It makes sense, because apparently that was the first longhouse from which the other longhouses branched out.

The "head" of the longhouse was Tepuq (a respectful form of address for elderly ladies) named Sinah Rang. Tepuq's husband passed away a while ago, and since then she is considered the head of the longhouse. She has such a huge, genuine, sincere heart for her visitors, taking our family in and really treating us as though we were her own. And she's really spunky and entrepreneurial as well! Bario Asal has become a sort of eco-tourism homestay, where visitors can come and experience living in a longhouse. During her pastime, she makes jewellery, selling these to visitors, tourists, and whomever. And she's constantly learning and doing new things, such as learning English from Project Whee so that she could communicate better with non-Malaysian visitors. What's perhaps amazing about it all is that she just celebrated her 70th birthday, but she has so much energy and verve to do all this!

The people here generally live to a ripe old age. Tepuq's mother-in-law is still staying in the longhouse, and she's still pretty agile - physically and mentally. I had a really funny encounter with her. I've been chatting with her and just hanging out with her for a few days. And on one of my last days in Bario, she discovered that I actually wasn't one of her great-granddaughters and that I was actually Chinese, haha!

Our trip to Bario intersected with the Christmas period / month, so a lot of the children and their children are back in the longhouse. The longhouse was pretty much filled with children from young toddlers to older teens. It was pretty understandable that great-grandma would have gotten me mixed up as one of her kin.

Access to other parts of the longhouse is pretty unrestricted, in that you could walk about and talk to anyone you wish (of course, in the communal areas, not in the bedrooms and such). I chatted with some of the other family members, and through the conversations, I gathered little bits of information about their lives. These are going to sound scattered, but I want to jot them down, to remember.

Political

Politics didn't naturally come into the conversation when I was chatting with the villagers, so I wouldn't say I know much about the political sentiments of the village. So I would advise to read the following with a pinch of salt, because I can't say I know enough to have gained accurate insights about the role of the government in the village.

I can say that the government is helping a fair bit in their agricultural projects. There were some signs posted around the paddy fields which show that some of them, at least, government-funded, and that most of the technology used (seeds, equipment) are provided by the government.

However, there was apparently a huge mega-hydroelectric dam that cost the government so much money to build, and in the end it didn't even work. Finally, the villagers had to pool resources and build their own dam.

Socio-Economic

A lot of the children (i.e. the generation born in the '50s-'70s) has moved out of the longhouse and stayed in the bigger cities like Miri or Kuching. And their children are based there too. So the older generation (i.e. the generation born in the '10s - '40s) are the ones staying in the longhouses. This wasn't hugely obvious to us at first, because lots of families are visiting during the Christmas period. But I'd imagine it gets really quiet and even lonesome, which is why it's great that Tepuq Sinah Rang, and a few of the other longhouses decide to open up as homestay places.

Nonetheless, there is also the issue of land ownership. The older folk feel great pride in their land, and having inherited it from generations, I feel they are quite attached to it and don't want to sell it off. However, there isn't really anyone to help them work the land. So those who can afford it would hire Indonesian workers. It's quite pricey for them, according to the auntie I was talking to. Because they only work for certain seasons, and the older folk have to pay for the workers' expenses and their salary. Those who can't afford it, then, would have to work the land on their own.

Cultural

Most of the people in Bario are Christian. They attend the church planted by the SIB church. In fact, each longhouse has a sort of chapel nearby, and each chapel has a pastor taking care of that longhouse. During our stay, the pastor organized carol-singing and prayers in each section of the longhouse. It was really beautiful, hearing and singing familiar Christmas hymns in the Kelabit language.

Kelabit people change their names a few times during their lifetime. They change their names after marriage, after their first child, and I believe after their first grandchild as well. One of their traditions is to wear heavy earrings, which cause them to have long dangly ears. Some of the traditional accessories they wear is this necklace which is usually beaded with gemstones. They are often in bright and contrasting colours, with the centrepiece usually the biggest in size. It's supposed to be like a necktie type thing, worn for special occasions. And they also wear a headdress type thing that is woven out of long beads as well. It's really heavy; Sinah Rang showed me the one she made herself.


Other things my family and I did there: -

We went up Prayer Mountain, which is a bit challenging considering it started raining halfway through, and we were positively soaked and shivering by the time we reached the chapel. We didn't have a guide with us, which is actually really dangerous, and which really contributed to our folly: we thought we reached the peak of the mountain because we saw a little chapel set up there; so we went back to the longhouse, and it was only then that we were told that we actually have not reached the peak at all.

We also visited the Salt Spring, where underground saltwater flows out. There was a little hut set up there as well, to "harvest" the salt from the water. The little salt production house was a little run down to be honest, and obtaining the salt from the saltwater was actually not easy. Talking to some of the workers from another longhouse, they said it was really tough work. They had a few large tanks for boiling and vaporizing the water, and they had to continuously watch over the fire so that it wouldn't go out. And for that they have to sacrifice their sleep and energy looking after the fire. This wasn't a steady job for them, they only do it periodically if they need the extra cash to top off for the month.

I really really loved Bario. I may not see myself living there, being a proud KL-ite, but I do love the virginal lands, the dramatic mountain ranges, the quiet, idyllic life, the community of people who take you as their own. And I just pray that God will continue to watch over this land, the lovely people here.

February 10th 2015 in Malaysia.

9 days too late. But just some thoughts on the recent conviction of Anwar Ibrahim.

There are some possibly incriminating pieces of evidence, such as Saiful's testimony and the fact that his DNA sample matched the stains on the mattress on which the act allegedly took place. (Source) 

But I can't help but feel troubled. Troubled also by the doubts that still linger on after the case has been resolved. I was reading a Facebook post that articulated why the judgment on this case is disturbing. In the court of law, the defendant has to be proven to be guilty beyond any reasonable doubt, but I can't help but feel doubtful of Anwar's guilt. Perhaps I'm wrong, but I just really don't think a 60-70 year old could have coerced or forced a young man into sodomy. I wouldn't go so far as to wholeheartedly propound Anwar's innocence, but if I - the ordinary layman - feel the evidence need heavier backup, why then is Anwar pronounced guilty beyond doubt?

Say he has truly committed the act. Has justice been served? 

Perhaps what unsettles me most of all is not the issue of Anwar's guilt or innocence; what unsettles me most of all is the fact that his acquittal has been overturned - during a time when the Opposition has gained substantial momentum after GE13. Was it mere coincidence that this all took place after the Opposition's comparatively strong performance in the recent General Elections? (by comparatively, I mean compared to previous years). 

I can’t say that I’m Anwar's biggest supporter. He has done things that I do not entirely agree with - even during his tenure as the Opposition's de facto leader. But I will admit that he has been fundamental to uniting the different parties under the Opposition, to create a synergy (though debatable in the present light of things) between these parties. However flawed the Opposition is, however glaring their internal conflicts and contradictions, the point remains that every democratic should and must have a check and balance.

Every government needs to have a "watchdog" whether it is official or unofficial. The point of the watchdog is not to criticise unnecessarily, may not even be to take the reins of control from the government; but simply this: to provide a voice - importantly, an alternative one - that keeps tabs on the government so as to ensure that the government will not misuse its power, will not turn complacent, will not neglect the welfare of the Rakyat. 

Silence - not so Golden

Sometimes...

The things left unsaid hurt.

I wanted my mouth to move, I wanted my lips to say something, but I just kept quiet, I just kept silent. I don't know why.

I am sick of keeping silent, I am sick of having my mouth filled to brim with words I have forced back in.

I told myself that I wanted to speak up. Not with brashness, but with boldness. But I have failed that.

And now I have to be aggravatingly content with withdrawing my words back into myself.

Organizing Thoughts

My brain is just crying.

Organizing thoughts is such a painful process.

Pros and Cons of Writing Difficult Essays

Trying to work through the rationale of choosing a difficult essay topic.

Benefits:

• Opportunities for originality and creativity would be in abundance. 
• I would be challenged intellectually. 
• Tutor would be potentially more impressed.
• Potentially more material to engage with than if I had chosen an easy essay topic.

Cons:

• It is so difficult to writeeeeeeeeeeeeee :'(

(Un)mediated Vision

She hates seeing through her spectacles.

They were fixed annoyingly and obnoxiously in front of her eyes, occasionally gliding down her nose as though they were aware of her dislike of them and were embarrassingly trying to take their leave. But they could not, and she could not put off wearing them at times. Yet, she could not help but feel immensely aware of the weight of them on her nose, the feeling of them blocking her real eyes from seeing.

It wasn't for beauty or vanity that she hated wearing them. But these lenses instead of helping her, hindered her; instead of clearing her vision, obscured it. She hated the sense that they were trying to dictate to her what to see. They say to her 'look there, there's a tree', or 'over there, there is a house'. Her freedom was confined by the frames of the glasses sitting quietly upon her features, her experience of life constrained as though she were only seeing things vicariously through the transparent lenses of her spectacles.

It was like trying to touch with gloves on, it was like trying to hear music through earmuffs. They were an additional layer her senses had to penetrate in order to grasp the stimuli, the things that moved her spirits. And they just felt unnatural, no matter how necessary they are.

No, if she were to see, to truly see, it would be through her real eyes. The blurred images of the distant backdrop, the fuzziness of letters on a signboard - they were flawed, imperfect, broken, but they were rightfully hers. It was her eyes touching these sights, caressing them, feeling their weightiness and committing them to memory and mind.

Very late albeit very important New Year's Resolution

My New Year’s Resolution: is to be radical and different, just like Jesus.

Not for the sake of being radical, not for anarchistic fun or wildness, but to be radical that I may proclaim His name and His mind-boggling gospel to the world. His gospel is radical, and He is radical, so need I be radical as well. 

This year, I want to be bold - not a boldness equivalent to rashness and recklessness, but a boldness mediated and regulated by thought, common sense, and above all, love. No longer do I want to hide behind pandering niceties, but to be frank and honest in a gentle way. 

This year I want to challenge my own pre-existing perceptions, to examine myself always, not to be seduced into the easy complacency of a comfy Christian bubble; but to daily grow in my Lord, whose folds of depths into which I can never fully delve. And also, to challenge others to know that there is no end to the mystery and glory of God. I want to talk to people I've never talked to before, experience new things, think about new things. And I want to do this all, with my vision focalised on Him.