snow.on.the.sahara

gee...thanks so much guys for all the comments. i didn't mean to do a disappearing act on all of you, but honestly, since my last post on monday, i havent had time to eat, sleep, breathe, much less blog.

i tell you, astro news is tough work. i wake up at 6.30am, travel for over an hour to work, get into the office by 9 am, work until 9pm, arrive home by 10pm, eat dinner, and *smack* before you know it, im out like a light on my pillow.

(well, except for yesterday, where i managed to squeeze in the 12.30 repeat of the much awaited finale of FLOM2 before hitting the pillow *heehee* and yes, CHAD CHOSE ERIN OVER THE MILLION BUCKAROOS!)

it's truly amazing what you can learn in a week's worth of work on a brand new job. in five days, i have had to re-adjust my entire attitude to journalism, stop thinking like a general news reporter and start thinking, breathing and writing like a business news reporter, re-learn everything i thought i knew about broadcast news, make new friends and adapt to a completely different environment.

and for the record, although i was ultimately employed to read and write the english business news on astro prima, i even somehow managed to fit in my first ever newsread in malay for my maiden appearance on astro thursday night. it so happens that the regular anchor, reed shamsudin, couldnt make it back to the studio on time from a meeting and yours truly was the only one available (read: total sucker).

and so, caught completely unaware, and terrifed shitless, sheahnee lee survived through a nerve-racking half-hour newsread in malay, without completely embarassing herself in front of a million or so viewers and coming across like a very silly deer in the headlights.

on top of that, i also discovered just how hardworking and dedicated my new colleagues are. amir, serina, sreejit and i now make up astronews@prima. reed and delilah make up astronews@ria. its amazing how such a tiny team can actually put together a deceivingly simple show you will no doubt switch to, watch and tune out of without so much as a thought about the gargantuan effort that goes into it.

its so refreshing to finally be able to work with people who stimulate my long-lost desire to give my career my all. ive watched them tirelessly brainstorm, go out reporting, write stories, edit each other's scripts, produce, help each other out when the deadline looms and still feel charged about their work after. this kind of attitude is so encouraging for a disillusioned, burnt out reporter like me.

needless to say, its finally the end of a very long, busy, exciting, scary and fruitful week, and the good news is, ive (thankfully) discovered my passion for this job again.

tomorrow's my first day at astro, my first new job in two and a half years, and believe it or not, im actually nervous.

i spent the entire past week between jobs sorting out stuff that desperately needed attention and early this evening, i finally had a chance to sit down and fill up the employee information forms given me last monday...

...only to discover that, not only did my driver's licence expire SIX months ago (!), but ive also lost my passport (!!).

:(

i also neglected to get my passport-sized photos taken, my IC photocopied, my tax forms filled in and my new bank account set up.

i start work tomorrow and im already messed up. dammit!

i wonder where my entire week went, and what on earth i was doing that really mattered...

sigh. no wonder im nervous.

...i was seated at a table full of journalists, photographers and cameramen at the F&N headquarters in PJ, awaiting the arrival of the then domestic trade and consumer affairs minister, tan sri muhyiddin yassin.

while other journalists sat amongst themselves in cliques, gossipping about the latest goings-on and office politics, i bade my time devouring an F&N icecream, made freely available in copious amounts to whoever needed to fill an empty starving tummy. like yours truly.

stuffing my face, and shamelessly dropping bits of chocolate coating on my white shirt and blue silk scarf ensemble, i didn't pay much attention to the rest of the room. i wasn't in the mood to talk, as i sometimes am, and certainly not in the mood for listening to mindless chatter.

the door to the freezing boardroom-cum-waiting room squeaked open again, and yet another late-arrival journo poked his head through. i turned my head to catch a quick look at the offending miscreant, and recognized the face.

he sidled in, approached the chair next to mine, and before he could look down at who would be seated next to him, i said:

'why, hello kai.'

he looked a little startled. he smiled. and it was quite clear he had forgotten my name.

we had met only once prior to that day. in september of 2002. the place: at the airport for an emergency drill. the press invite had said that we should expect to watch a re-eneactment of an emergency crash landing (in actual fact a few hundred tires being burnt on the tarmac) and experience for ourselves the speed and efficiency of the emergency response team.

the press were gathered at the waiting area and a tall fair chinese guy strolled in to join us. 'hi, im kai' he said, as he walked alongside me to the press room. we made small talk and i found out he was an intern attached to the new straits times.

when he found out a little later that the drill wasn't expected to get off the ground until mid afternoon, his face dropped and he confided that he had another event to attend in the city. he absolutely couldn't stay. could he call me for the story later that evening? sure, i said. and handed him my number.

sure enough, later on at about 5, he called. i rattled off the details, and he sounded unimpressed. admittedly, although visually exciting, it didn't amount to much of a news story. he thanked me, left me his office number, and i didn't hear from him again.

well, not until april the next year.

and he couldn't remember my name.

'so, what's happened with your life since then?' i asked.

and from there, a picture emerged. it was only meant to be small talk until then. i hadn't been in the mood to talk to anyone. but slowly, slowly, a picture emerged. how did it start? this picture, i mean. oh yes, he told me about his best friend duane. duane who was born in grenada, grew up in france, and later moved to long island, nyc.

he lamented his stalled education in the US, which he had had to put aside temporarily.

he spoke passionately about his love for cartooning.

and he drew me a caricature of ling liong sik.

and i began to think, this certainly is no ordinary guy.

too often, too often, i met people who bored me to tears with their affected airs and malicious gossip. but this, this was different. i wanted to hear what he had to say.

later on, at the press conference, he boldly pulled aside the minister and briefed him on an issue involving vegetable supplies to the markets in singapore. would the minister please offer a comment? and the minister did.

i was charmed. i truly was.

afterwards, he asked me if i'd like to go for a drink sometime. tea perhaps? some conversation? what's your number?

but, i chided him, i already gave you my number once before. and you lost it!

sheepishly, he apologized and asked again.

i read it out to him, and he keyed the digits into his phone. just to be sure he left his number behind, he called. ringing in my handbag. i held the bag up, put it to my ear and said, 'my bag's ringing'.

later on that night, i saved the number into my phone under KAI NST.

and i went to bed, wondering if he really would call. wondering if next time, he'd remember my name.

well, it looks like he did. and the rest, as they say, is history.

an overjoyed shen manhandling her new teddy bear

i thought that since i had a week free in between old job and new job, i might have the chance to put me legs up and twiddle me thumbs all day long, day after day, til sunday.

looks like ive been horribly mistaken.

third day of 'holiday' and ive still yet to have a full 8 hours of well-deserved sleep. and believe it or not, although technically, leaving your old job generally means you DONT hang out at your old office anymore, i spent a full 9 hours or so there today.

ok, so i was cleaning out all my accumulated junk, deleting all my (incriminating) files, and throwing out long-forgotten assam boi (which were happily growing mold and all manner of furry yellow stuff).

i really didnt think i had accumulated THAT much junk over the past two years, but by the time i was done, it was pretty amazing how high the pile of old press releases was. it also dawned on me just how long ago it was i hadnt opened one particular drawer in my desk when, lo and behold, a photo of ye ol' ex-boyfriend fluttered out, caked in dust and dated june 2002. this was also the same drawer i found:

1. a seriously old, very squished and very stale pack of marlboros, from my pre-quit days
2. yes, my furry yellow assam boi
3. old muruku (!)
4. train tickets, hotel brochures and plane ticket stubs from a company trip to spain i took in 2002
5. a flattened kit kat bar (!!)
6. a bottle of nail polish i've been searching for, for the past one and a half years
7. nail polish remover, which i have also been looking for, for over a year
8. 20 bucks
9. old squashed kerepek pisang (!!!)
10. 12 bucks worth of coins
11. three cricket lighters
12. unidentified crumbs from either (3), (5) or (9)

i tell you, looking through the contents of someone's work drawer can really divulge wayyyy too much information about the poor sod's sorry ass work behaviour.

as for me, i have come to the conclusion that in my entire time at ntv7, all i seem to have done was:

a) eat too many snacks
b) polish my nails
c) lose money
d) try to quit smoking
e) be quite the jet-setting journalist

oh i wish.

it'd sort of fit the cliche though wouldnt it?

this gives me hope that there is still some goodness in the world.

too often the heartfelt sign reads 'lost'.

i found hundreds of these posters painstakingly printed and put up all along jalan glenmarie yesterday.

you know there is reason to believe in the goodness of the human race when there is just one kind soul out there who has the heart to do something like this for someone he doesn't even know.

syed, whoever you are, thank god for people like you.

with 'edisi 7' news anchor wan kamaruddin ibrahim

...and it wasn't without a heavy heart.

although there were many reasons i eventually had to leave, at the end of the day i remembered i would indeed take home a great many wonderful memories too.

it was here, in this newsroom, that i first stepped into the working world, and it was from here that i stepped out today a very different young woman. just over 2 years ago, on the 18th of march, i was wide-eyed, passionate, and yearning to learn. my colleague zaini will tell you that on that day i was uncontrollably bouncy, just raring to go.

today, i walked out on the place where i used to spend more hours than i do at home. i felt at peace, though melancholic, a lot more mature, a lot less excitable, a little less passionate, a lot more disillusioned, a little more hopeful, and thankfully, far less bouncy.

i walked out the backdoor towards my car, stared up at the same starry sky i have stared at everynight on the way to my car for the last two years, and felt a tear form at the brim of my left eyelid.

its true, i realised. im sadder than i thought i'd be about leaving.

i leave behind some good colleagues, who may hopefully become equally good friends outside the office. charles and gerard bought me a cake, and gathered the news crew around for a little farewell. standing up, and clearing his throat, charles announced what a loss my absence would be for the newsroom. and then he hugged me.

and funnily enough, it was at that precise fleeting moment that i felt the most appreciated i'd ever been my entire time at ntv7.

which illustrated most clearly to me that i was leaving for the right reasons, and most of all, that i was leaving with the right heart. i may have left for reasons you might never know, but at least ill know it was a good end to a good start. i have no regrets but for the fact that i wished it might have turned out differently. seeing how it would never have anyway, i rest assured i have done my best and will continue to give my best elsewhere, from today onwards.

astro and the world...here i come!

*for more photos, see my photo album :)

i havent had a good day and i dont know why.

you know youre on the long road downhill when you receive a call at 8 am from your cameraman saying his car's broken down and that youll have to find yourself another cameraman for your assignment at 9. you have half an hour to rush to work and pray therell be someone there to replace him. it wouldnt be so bad if it was a one-off, but its a major issue when this isnt the first time he's done it to you.

fast forward to 10 am. youre one hour late for assignment, and its really no laughing matter, because the minister youre dealing with is rafidah, and boy do we know, she sure aint a piece of cake. wallowing in humble pie, you approach rafidah gingerly and ask her to repeat everything she said in her speech in just one brief sentence. if you know rafidah, this is dangerous ground. risk having your head bitten off, chewed distastefully, and spit unceremoniously on the ground. youre lucky she recognizes you, and agrees to your request, but not before remarking with her trademark sharpness, 'never pay attention to my speech, ah?'

its 11 am. youre on your way back from assignment, but must make an assigned pitstop at several schools around the city, to get visuals of schoolkids cutting class. you think this is a piece of cake, until you realise to your dismay that today, of all days, all the truant schoolkids seem to have cleaned up their act and gone to class. you drive to central market, dayabumi, brickfields, setapak, klang, port klang, shah alam, and woe unto you, not one schoolkid is loitering outside school hours. these are the days you just wish some kid would hurry up and break the law, so that you might be able to go and grab that much-needed lunch before you die a horrible starvation-induced death.

you finally get a visual worthy of your effort, of kids cutting class and smoking copiously at a restaurant in their school uniforms, only to return to the office and be informed that your visuals wont be needed after all. how grand.

famished, you think you might be able to grab that lunch now, but decide youll drop by the lines room first. just so happens you come to face to face with another reporter previewing a tape of some unfortunate man's horrific demise...after plunging 10 storeys off phileo damansara. your appetite, so hearty and robust a minute before, is now reduced to a swirling pit of nausea which threatens release. you think its over, but noooooo...you turn around to make your escape, and youre faced with yet another reporter's visuals of a murdered man hanging in a drain by the collar of his shirt.

there goes lunch. oh, and dinner.

you console yourself that your life isnt so bad. what are you complaining about? some poor people, like both dead men, had it far worse. and never lived to tell the tale. you bounce back and try to be thankful youre alive, eventhough today, quite honestly, sucks big time.

later on that evening, you rush home from work, wanting to make that important stop at the shopping centre to pick up and pay for the rest of your brand new handphone. unfotunately for you, youre not supposed to be enjoying any part of today at all. as luck would have it, your credit card is declined, all because some twit at the bank told you with full confidence yesterday that you had more than enough credit to make the purchase. thoroughly embarassed, you attempt a pathetic smile at the sales dude, who by this time thinks youre a penniless fraud, and call home. you squeak pathetically to mom: im stuck with a phone and i dont have enough cash to pay for it.

lucky for you, mom has a heart of gold (god bless her) and makes the trip down to rescue you from further shame and the risk of being hauled off by security for being, like i said, a penniless fraud. ok, so im exaggerating. but i had a lousy day and im allowed to. so there.

ahhhh. release. thanks for listening. and come to think of it, now that i look back upon it, today didnt sound so bad after all. clearly, i am blessed to be alive, to earn enough money for a new phone and have a mother with a heart of gold.

ok so i had to give my two cents worth about the unfolding beckham scandal.

issues like these are close to my heart and make my blood boil for reasons i cannot bring myself to reveal, but after shamelessly devouring news article after news article about the goings-on within the marital 'sham' that is posh and david's union, i need to rant.

so the rags are calling the union a 'sham'. posh is a 'skinny stick' who 'abandoned' her husband in spain while she steadfastly refused to budge from england and her desperate attempts to revive an ailing singing career.

rebecca loos is 'the other woman', the 'slut' who took advantage of posh's absence and moved in for the kill. sarah marbeck, described as the 'malaysian-born model' who won david's heart when posh couldn't fulfill his needs, is also portrayed as the groupie who got lucky with 'the world's most famous footballer, father and husband'. ms marbeck's father, a malaysian barrister with a practice right here in KL, has been described as 'crushed' over the revelations.

but what of david?

while the media hotly discuss how the woman have all failed david in some way or another, david comes across as the poor guy who just couldn't control himself, the neglected husband who lacked love and care from an absent wife, the star footballer who had been betrayed by the women he dared to love.

david beckham it seems, can do no wrong.

though the media attempts to present david beckham as fallible, they try to do it in a way that makes his actions seem justified. they treat the whole affair as the one thing that has made him human, like the rest of us. the scandal has brought david beckham down to earth. made him a mortal. and the media love it.

sadly...the one thing clearest to me thus far is that his wife, however repulsive she has been made out to be, is the one who will have to suffer most from his mistakes. her and their kids.

this entire fiasco brings to mind tearful stories i have been told by female friends who themselves were, at one time or another, the 'other woman'. although admittedly, i was honest with them and told them exactly what i thought of their involvement, i listened to their side of their story and tried to sympathise.

however, if you've ever had the opportunity to listen to the stories of the other woman, one thing you will increasingly discover, and the one thing that increasingly becomes clear, is that men, or women, who cheat on their partners are rarely the poor neglected people they make themselves out to be.

'oh, my wife doesn't love me, she never has time for me'

'our marriage is on the rocks, we are on our way to divorce'

'i think my wife is having an affair'

'my wife doesn't like sex, she never wants to make love to me'

'i dont love my wife anymore, but im trapped in this marriage for the sake of the kids'

let me bet with you, 9 out of 10 times, the wife in question is blissfully unaware of these excuses her husband is making for her...oblivious to everything, and thinking the marriage is doing fine, she potters around being the good wife, doing everything she can to make her life, and her husband's, more comfortable.

9 out of 10 times, the other woman, who thinks the poor sad man she sees in front of her is unloved and neglected, will feel sorry for him and do all she can to make up for the 'neglect' he suffers at the hands of his 'horrible wife'.

9 out of 10 times, the man is a cheat and a liar, out for a good time, for attention, and most definitely, the best of both worlds.

if a good man genuinely was 'trapped' in an unhappy marriage with a horrible wife, he would either:

1. seek counselling to save what he can of his marriage, or
2. seek a divorce, so that at least he and his wife may start separate lives anew, and have the chance to be happy again
3. if he indeed had kids, and worried about their future, do either 1 or 2, but make every effort to ensure the kids are taken care of either way

a good man who is geninely 'trapped' in an unhappy marriage and wants out, would never cheat on his wife. if he has found love elsewhere, for the love of god, and for the love of his wife and kids, he should have a heart and seek a divorce so that betrayal is not an option.

if he were genuinely 'trapped' in an unhappy marriage, he would not speak ill of his wife behind her back and tell an unsuspecting other-woman-to-be that he is unhappy. he would do something about his ailing marriage or get out of it before trying to start a new relationship.

if you are a woman and have ever been approached by a man who tells you a sob story such as this, have a heart and think of his most likely unsuspecting wife. if you love this man and want to be with him, you wouldnt help him cheat. you would tell him to save his marriage or get a divorce, and not come back to you and try winning your heart as long as he is still married.

either way, a man/woman who tells a sob story while married to try and get into your heart (or pants) is a cheat. there are no two ways about it. dont fall for it.

if you do, at the end of the day, like rebecca loos, like sarah marbeck, you are an accessory to a cheating man's lies, and you are just as responsible for his unhappy marriage. most of all, you are a fool for believing the words of a man who is so obviously trying to keep two women in his life, purely out of selfishness and greed.

why on earth should you feel sorry for him, or for a man like david beckham?

with the weekend over, i have time to put into perspective all that's happened and come to one conclusion: what a blast!

well, apart from not being able get into zouk for tiesto (but that's another story).

on saturday morning, i was a bunch of nerves. at 4pm i'd made plans to meet chern, yao, elliot, sharon and hatim for the first time, and to be honest, i was actually a little scared. well, not scared in the way you think, but scared in a deer-in-the-headlights kinda way.

dont be surprised. it might seem as if reading the news for an audience of thousands would prepare you for things like this, but then again, meeting new people can be, and usually always is, scary.

you see, they all know each other already, and as for me, well, i was worried id feel like an outsider poking my upturned lil nose into someone else's party. but after much fretting and ado-ing over nothing, it turns out that i needn't have fretted at all.

i went as planned, and came back feeling like i'd just had tea with a bunch of old friends.

have you ever wondered what it must be like to meet a bunch of people whose lives you've read about, feelings you've related to, jokes you've laughed at and dramas you've empathized with?

meeting ash was my first experience of it, although if you've done it before, you'll know that it's kinda weird seeing someone in the flesh the first time after having built up a completely different image of that person in your head for the longest time...even after you've seen the photos.

chern turned out to be a whole lot taller than i'd expected. and quieter. but she's very sweet and looks like the perfect match for the zany bag-of-laughs that is yao. i hope he won't be offended, but yao reminds me of a bigger, buffer version of goofy. heehee.

elliot a.k.a chi chi the flying pig defies his nickname completely. i felt he was shy and reserved, far removed from the flying pig persona i'd originally dreamt up. and he blushed a lot! ;)

sharon must come across to most people as a real tai-kar-ceh, a woman you'd hate to mess with on the road, and wouldn't dare to cross when she's mad. but the sharon i met was smiley and, like chern, sweet. oh, and so tiny in real life i was worried that by shaking her hand i'd break her arm into two.

hatim though turned out to be the closest match to the mental image i had created for him. also smiley, quite a gentleman, and as it turns out from the stories sharon related, also quite a romantic.

i may be wrong in my first impressions though, but from what little i gleaned off one afternoon together, they were a fun, warm and entertaining bunch, whose company i would enjoy again anytime.

thanks so much for letting me gatecrash guys, i bet you couldnt tell i was nervous, but nevertheless im glad that the deer, though initially a little stunned by the glare of the headlights, didnt get run over in a horrible way after all. :)

on my absence from blogdom lately, especially since shamefully deploring the lack of updated posts on other people's websites and now being guilty of doing my own disappearing act, i do sincerely apologize.

all reporters in my newsroom have been barred from internet access (yes, i know exactly what you're thinking), and i am now forced to kill whatever free time i have struggling not to die from boredom. i have read two cosmos, one glamour, and one cleo this week alone, and am suffering from a dire lack of blog-snooping.

*boohoo*

yessiree, this is the term the national service council chairman used today to describe our much beloved malaysian phenomenon, the bomoh.

if you've read the papers lately, you'll no doubt have heard of the hysteria case reported last week, i think, in pasir panjang, involving 9 national service trainees.

the story has it that they witnessed floating 'people', some without heads, some without legs, at their NS camp. if this is true, im not surprised they were in hysterics.

im not one to question the existence, or lack of it, of spiritual beings. being a reporter also doesnt help when it's your responsibility to disseminate proven facts and disregard hearsay.

but it's quite another thing altogether when you're sitting in a press conference and the question is posed: what's the update on the pasir panjang hysteria case?

while any seasoned reporter would generally expect the answer to be a more run-of-the-mill, sterile reply such as 'we're still looking into it' or 'we're investigating the issue', or even 'we've hired psychologists to examine the trainees involved', even the most seasoned reporter of all has to choke on saliva upon getting this response:

"we are looking at this matter seriously and to prove our seriousness, we are hiring several spiritual consultants to visit the camp and do the necessary."

hmm, 'do the necessary'.

mysterious words indeed.

so yes indeed, our national service councillers are a spiritual bunch, and are looking into all 'possibilities' to solve the perplexing problem.

until then, we've been informed that none of the trainees will be transferred out of the camp, nor will the camp be moved, pending 'doing the necessary'.

which leaves me to wonder:

1) either the kids involved tried, and failed, to get their pampered little selves out of boot camp via an elaborate charade of hysterics, and will now be taught a lesson that ghost stories dont get you anywhere, not even out of camp;
2) that if they they really had seen something, no doubt discovering a team of bomohs poking around their camp would hardly help to calm their frazzled, jumpy nerves;
3) that if they hadn't seen something, but were indeed psychologically disturbed by the tough, spartan lifestyle they had been shocked into, a team of bomohs would neither calm them, nor discourage them from making further scenes.

all the same, the interest in the case does prove the love malaysians have for all things unexplained, especially the good old ghost story.

i remember back in my convent girls' school days, hysteria was something you'd come to expect on the 4th of april every year. whatever the class, whatever the age group, whatever the mental state of the girls in the classroom, on the 4th of april every year, all the girls wearing tudung in class 4K would fall on the floor, writhing and screaming that they had seen a face jump out at them from the blackboard.

every year without fail, the headmistress would call in a bomoh and the hysterical girls in that class would get the next day off. the story was the same every year, as if it had been passed down by each generation of 4K schoolgirl, each imploring the next to carry on a tradition of some sort. well, either that, or there was indeed something fishy going on in that classroom.

wahtever it is, no non-muslim schoolgirl ever saw the face in the blackboard, and neither did the non-tudung-wearing girls. i suppose that story will continue to be a mystery.

last i heard though, hysteria lives on in my alma mater, although whether or not it reappears on the 4th of april as per tradition, or even in the same old classroom, is something i'd have to hear more about.

to the chinese, there is nothing a child could possibly do worse than neglect his or her parents.

this applies even after a parent has long gone to be with God, and as tradition has it, it is usually the son who bears the responsibility, and the shame, if he is guilty of it.

cheng beng, or qing ming, depending on the dialect, is that time of year filial children conduct a pilgrimage of sorts to the cemetary, in order to make good with their ancestors.

and this is precisely what yours truly did today.

i might be wrong, but the last time i remember being a part of the whole cheng beng ritual was when i was 7. somewhere throughout the years, the memory of it crystallised into this romanticised notion that it was some fancy seance of sorts...a feast shared among the living with their ghostly counterparts. i also remember dad once telling me it was a time the heavens opened and the dead came home to 'visit' their loved ones.

18 years later, much older and apparently wiser, it seems that my memory of it wasn't too far off the mark.

although romanticised, cheng beng is essentially sharing what worldly prosperity or good fortune you have attained with those who gave you life. naturally, without their existence, you would hardly be enjoying worldly pleasures, much less be alive.

wishing to relive my 7-year-old kiddy experience, i trooped with other members of my extended family to my ah kong's grave early this morning before sunrise.

ah kong's resting place is perched precariously atop a cliff and overlooks thousands of other once-elaborate graves that have since fallen into disrepair and overgrown with waist-high weeds.

chinese graves tend to be self-enclosed, four meter-by four meter lots, complete with little gates, fancy columns and not one altar, but two. one altar is for praying to the deceased, the other, to the right, for prayer to the god of the earth, who will upon request, watch over your loved ones in the netherworld.

sadly, although today was the last day to fulfill one's cheng beng rites, many of these once-fancy graves remained in a state of neglect, forgotten.

armed with parangs, cangkuls and spades, we attacked the weeds in ah kong's grave, scooped up year-old mud and the occasional ancient dog-poop, and killed numerous colonies of spiders, worms and bugs that had since made ah kong's grave their homes.

after about an hour, the grave looked reasonably clean. my aunt busied herself at the altar, arranging the joss-stick urns and placing chrysanthemums in a vase. she then produced an assortment of fluffy pink muffins, steamed vegetable buns, a sweet sticky cake we call ang koo keh, and a slab of roast pork. these she arranged neatly in front of the altar.

at the altar on the right, my aunt arranged an offering of dried fish, more pink muffins and a tasty yam cake complete with chilli sauce. (a grave further down even had remnants of a nasi lemak offering. heehee.)

my dad, being the eldest son, led the prayers. three joss sticks to a person, we showed respect to the god of the earth by whispering a silent prayer for the well-being of our deceased ah kong and ah ma. we sealed the prayer and sent it to heaven by placing our joss sticks in the urn.

turning then to face ah kong's altar, we were now assigned two joss sticks each, and followed dad's cue as he went through the ritual of praying, kneeling, kow-towing, and standing back up four times. by the time i was done, i was dizzy from the lack of blood flowing to my brain. standing one second and then kow-towing the next in quick succession does that to you.

with the prayers deemed complete, dad invited ah kong to eat. with two coins in his palm, dad tossed both in the air and watched nervously to see how they would land. happily, they landed one face up, the other face down. this was taken to mean that ah kong was now among us and pleased with the offerings.

we gave ah kong sufficient time to enjoy his feast, and half-an-hour later, dad again tossed the coins and waited nervously for the verdict. would ah kong be pleased with the food? once again, we got the answer we hoped for. the coins said ah kong was happy.

with the ghostly feasting done, we set about sending ah kong money. life in heaven isn't cheap, you know. these days, materialism isn't necessarily a worldly catch-phrase. we burnt offerings of paper money and gold nuggets that ah kong could use for a comfortable life in heaven.

in addition, we set fire to a paper suitcase that contained several important items he would need to ensure he was self-sufficient in the netherworld: a paper handphone, with paper simcard, paper credit card, paper clothes, paper laptop, and of course, paper shoes. who ever said ghosts float?

for ah ma's grave which we would visit later on, my aunts had arranged a suitcase full of paper cosmetics...lipstick, compact powder, and the can't-do-without-even-if-you're-in-heaven hairdryer...the works.

of course, none of this was very environmentally friendly, but when filial piety and tradition must be weighed against environmentalism, its hard to make the call.

with all the gifts sent off to heaven in a wispy cloud of smoke, we rounded off the ritual with a 6-foot long whopper of a firecracker.

red bits of paper landed like rose petals all over ah kong's grave, and the echo of the crackers resounded all through the valley below.

for a brief moment, standing there in that cemetary, surrounded by death and noise, i felt at peace with the world. i imagined ah kong flying back up to heaven with a smile on his face, sent off with a bang, proud to know he was remembered. and i realised just how good it felt to be filial.

even if only once a year.

someone's wish came true this day 23 years ago...
i thank god for the day you were born.

for that alone was God's greatest gift to me...

...and to everybody else whose life you have lit up with your smile, warmth, sincerity and kindness.

happy birthday kai :)

after months of weighing options, pros, cons and my state of mind, ive finally taken the plunge and tendered my resignation at ntv7.

i admit that the decision is tinged with sadness, and a little regret that it couldnt possibly have turned out any other way. but if it hadnt been today, it would have been some day in the future. it couldnt be helped. i knew that in five years time i couldnt see myself still waking up every morning dreading coming in to work.

i need to feel passion to commit to anything. a job is no different. all i can hope for is that the place i am moving to will allow me to chase a more attainable dream. a burden has been lifted from my heart, and i suddenly feel free. the future is waiting and im ready to embrace it.

so this is where you heard it first.

...is that it forces me to sit glued to the telly every tuesday and thursday night.

conversation cannot be attempted with me save for commercial breaks. risk trying otherwise and you will know what it feels like to be on the receiving end of my signature cold hard glare of annoyance.

small talk and sms's are permitted during these brief interludes, but these shall abruptly come to a halt the second 'american idol' returns to the screen. or for that matter, my ultimate couch-potato-fest recommendation of the moment 'for love or money II'.

admittedly, i never was a fan of all this reality show hype until the day i unwittingly sat down in front of the telly and wondered out loud what on earth had gotten my dad so hooked that he had actually sacrificed his beloved sofa (read: daily evening nap that you would do well NEVER to disturb.)

now if ANYTHING can make my dad sacrifice his precious nap, THAT i have GOT to see.

and so happened my induction into the 'american idol' craze. ask me and you can be assured i can name every one of the 12 finalists off the top of my head.

USELESS FACT OF THE DAY:

If Fantasia, Jasmine, Jennifer, George or La Toya get kicked out of this round, I am eating my hat.

N.B. in malaysia, we are about three days to two weeks behind the live american broadcast on fox.

CREEPY USELESS FACT OF THE DAY II:

I'm on a first name basis with all 12 finalists.

as for 'FLOM 2', ive been hooked on that since the first season (where 15 females attempted winning oh-so-dashing rick's heart/$1 million). this season, 15 conniving men go after a luscious erin/$1 million. and with all those extra twists and surprises galore, i am officially one happy bunny.

there is nothing more revealing about the human condition than a good reality show. throw in a hefty cash prize ($1 million, no less) and watch our fellow humans reduce themselves into the sneaky, selfish morons we are all capable of being.

discover in the process, truths about yourselves. ask yourself, what would i do if i were there making that decision? throw your own moral judgment out the window and stop acting holier-than-thou. its a tough question, but really, WHAT would YOU do? the answers can reveal how little we may really know about ourselves. alternatively, they can also confirm something about us we have long suspected.

see for yourself how insecurity is often disguised poorly as flashy arrogance before, during and after an audition that simon cowell rates as pathetic. the most genuine human being will be the one who accepts defeat graciously.

(and that is why we love william hung, innit.)

so...forget trying to ask me out on tuesday or thursday night. on tuesdays, after american idol, i will sit back and enjoy the antics of zoe busiek (who kicked my beloved 'monk' to wednesday, but nevertheless still manages to hold her own). on thursday, i am 'out of coverage area' between 8 and 11, couch-potatoing through american idol (again) and FLOM 2. the closest you get to tv heaven is, yes, not one but TWO reality shows in one divine evening.

oh. did i mention...

VERY-USELESS-BUT-WORTH-THE-TRY FACT OF THE DAY III:

Ladies with wandering husbands, take note. The addictive nature of reality tv would suggest that this may be the ideal method of keeping the husband at home.

;)