After watching channel 10's presenter talking about 'resolutions' for a gazillion brazillian times. After the 9 o clock fireworks. After cooking the 2nd pack of instant noodles for the day. After getting irritated by the Optus ad for the Nth time. I've realised, at this point of my life, that there's clearly something wrong with me. I'm staying home watching Groundhog's Day. (Which I must add, was better than I expected. For a moment there I fell in love with Andie McDowell. Like Four Weddings and a Funeral.) I've made the decision not to go to the Opera House and squeeze with another 1 million people just for the fireworks. And I've also figured out that even if I do go, I'd regret the decision and wish I were here, not going, which I did. So why am I still feeling bored, and wished I'd gone, although clearly I didn't want to, and know that I'd regret if I do go? I guess I'll just keep watching TV. And don't get too excited about 2007. The world's gonna end this time.
You will get your face on 80% of the DVD cover as long as you get semi naked in 20% of the whole movie.
1996 was my first year in secondary school. I was 13. It was also the same year George Clooney got something out of ER and became the lead character in this movie. I never heard of this movie until someone mentioned breasts. Everyone said the movie(breasts) is good. Just never bothered until the DVD was on sale. The movie's sudden change of mood was a surprise. Always thought it was a 'Desperado' kind of bandit genre. It was like Life is Beautiful, in a really fucked up way. The thing about Quentin, is that he keeps getting credit for ripping other movies off because most viewers are ignorant. It saddens me to realise this movie is 10 years old. And I'm talking about a 96 movie copying older movies, I sound like a grandpa. I'm going to bed.
Except for an ugly pair of Asics running shoes, I realised I've got no proper shoes for my semi-interview coming soon. My dilemma, to dress up as I am aka shirt with jeans on sneakers, or get some 'proper' shoes as my mom said. I don't know, say if I'm an employer, and this young fresh grad comes in wearing a nice pair of Gucci leather shoes which I couldn't afford myself, wouldn't I be pissed off? Like, I'm a student to start with, I shouldn't be flashing around with Italy made hand sewn leather shoes. I can show up with my sneakers and say this is what I normally wear. I tend to jog around sometimes. This is what I do.
Christmas came when I was halfway watching a witch summoning a dead man in this 1950 Kurosawa film. I like it because it's a fresh alternative path away from his samurai fighting or country conquering epics. Three men got caught in the rain, and they're just discussing a murder trial which two of them were a part of the hearing. A feudal version of 12 angry men. It's weird, how my sister has a tree in her apartment although we do not celebrate Christmas at all. It's even weirder how she managed to buy and wrap gifts under the tree for the rest of the family. I guess that beats getting drunk and picking up strangers in a crappy pub wearing funny hats and underwear. Anyway, I got this:
When you have a full apartment of Ikea furniture to dismantle, it might not be absurd or funny at all.
Wow. I'm currently at Davistown, Saratoga. It could be Port Dickson for all I care since it doesn't make any sense. I just know it's somewhere in New South Wales. And it's totally quiet. Not in a metaphorical way, I really feel as if all sound's been sucked out of this space. Even back home in Klang I'd still get distant traffic noises, ambulance sirens, stray dogs, even the mosque. This distant apartment in Sharapova, is really something. Dad's been saying that everyone's retired here and collecting pension. I'm just wondering what I'm doing here. Guilt's overridden me since I do not deserve such tranquility and vacuum. It's as if I've trespassed heaven. White people, old age, annoying animals. Fits the description perfectly. Speaking of heaven, everyone should read what Mr. John's written. It's one of those things that makes me go 'yea I thought of that before' and sound like a complete wanker.
Also this holy peaceful place provides good place for story telling. My sister's been updating me on some of her physiotherapy cases. Number one. A women weighing 180kg got wheeled in the hospital because she couldn't walk for more than 2 meters. Remember that guy from Seven? Yea, it's not fake. What bothered me is that why couldn't she realise something's fucked when she was 130kg? She even has fucking asthma. Nuuumber two. A guy went into the emergency room with a gerbil within his anus. Story of the week.
The release date for this movie was 1974. At one stage X was saying: Wah, American girls in 1974 were already baring their backs wearing tube tops. Yup, we're behind America by 30 years. The screaming at the 2nd half of the movie got so annoying that I wished they could just finish the victims off. What I like about 1970s movies, is that they didn't have space to leave for explanation. Things just happened. A guy in a wheelchair rolled down the hill. That happens. Crazy hitchhiker slashed your wrist, that's fine, we'll keep going to that empty house. Fuel running low, yea that's normal. Although I almost fell asleep towards the end. I didn't mind it. Since, I'm a social liability now and have nothing else to do.
This is the simplest website I've seen of an architect. Well to be critical, it does only show one work. But it's showing the benefit of the house, instead of just the facade and appearance. That worked for me.
Also have watched the last 4 episode of Survivor: Cook Island.
Was talking to Gina about spoilers. You know, like saying Bruce Willis is a ghost in Sixth Sense, Brad Pitt is Edward Norton in Fight Club. Oh, sorry if you haven't watched both. Coincidentally X and I bought a Blade Runner: Director's Cut DVD 2 days ago. On the back of the cover we read that Harrison Ford might be a robot. And they've removed the uplifting finale. They might as well print the whole story out. Yea, spoilers suck. Yet what's worse is that how we want to know as much as possible when it comes to our own future. No, I don't want to know the ending of the movie, but I'm going to this tarot card reader at 5 before dinner. There's got to be a decent amount of people demanding palm reading, horoscope, crystal balls to allow an industry to function. What's the point of knowing the spoiler of your own life?
My first day in Sydney, and I'm already engrossed in 2 video games. One's NFS Carbon, and the other Resident Evil 4. Game makers make shit loads of money by letting us do what we can't do in real life. eg., shooting people in the head, and not paying police fines. At one stage of my life I was really depressed that the gaming world is not the real world, and everything I believed in was just made up to make more money. I guess it's better to have made up games of people beating up people rather than people actually being nice to people. Humanity would be so depressing then. 'Woah, did you remember that part when the guy DID NOT kill the other guy? That was some cool shit!' 'Yea yea! And he said thank you! Wooaah!'
Got my degree certified at the police station. I used it as a shelter for my mom during rain yesterday. It was in a plastic sleeve, and I think that was as useful at it's gonna get. You can't see the pink in this photo. Actually towards the end, I've grown attached to the pink. Makes us stand out from the crowd. I remember this magic marker set my mom got me when I was twelve. It came with an instruction booklet that said black matches well with pink. That was 10 years ago.
See what? Never seen disorganised train entry before?
Promised myself to post this photo 6 months ago while I was in Malaysia taking the KTM. Notice that no one was queuing up. And the door was so small. And the passengers haven't came out from the inside.
Krispy Kreme openend in Melbourne Central. I can see the managers in Sydney losing half of their business and the beginning of the end of the KK novelty.
Decided to apply for Permanent Residency.
I believe I blushed when my hot female doctor asked me to strip and lie on the examination bed during the health check. She sternly said 'Please leave your underwear on.' So I guess she's had some exposure problem prior to this.
Have been running in and out of post offices for the whole week. I'm starting to appreciate them.
Been eyeing for a new laptop. The black mac book seems very sexy. If I buy it I'll name her Naomi. Sandra's totally gone by the way.
I don't know. Maybe Tohm is right. Apart from posting some YouTube's and writing about my life (which I hate about the generic blogs) as if it's interesting as such which it is not, I haven't written any original thoughts for the past weeks.
Maybe this is some pre-graduation blues. Then again it's bullshit. RMIT's not a real uni. So this graduation isn't real.
69 by Ryu Murakami Unlike In the Miso Soup, his previous book that I've read, 69 is very 'U' for general viewing. No blood, no prostitutes, no psychopaths. Just an auto biography style of a high school boy in the year 1969. A nice read, but it didn't make me flip like mad.
Purple Cow by Seth Godin This is more like a 'how to come up with a good idea and sell it' type of book. Packed with good analogies and examples. Then again, I doubt if anyone's interested.
Norwegian Wood by Haruki Murakami I think it's my 3rd time reading it. And it was actually the Chinese version but the English cover looks better. I remember feeling grossed out reading it in high school. 'WTF is Japanese thinking?' etc. But now, I can sorta get it. If I were to be in his position (best friend's died. Slept with his girlfriend, which sent her into a mental ward, fell in love with another girl in a relationship while everyone around him was committing suicide), I won't know what to do except for drinking whiskey either.
野火集 by 龙应台 I think it's written in 1983, which is depressing because the social problems raised in the book are still as prominent today. I'll skip this since no one understands Chinese here anyway.
For one more day by Mitch Albom Just like his previous books, it's a 'let us cuddle and feel good' book. It's not that different from The 5 people you meet in heaven. Ya know, guy kills himself, realised he's actually back home with his mom. Talked a bit, apologized a bit, then escaped from the light. It's 324 times better than what I just described. I had to admit I was a bit teary in the end. Christians will like it, I guess.
At the moment, I'm reading Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman, The Complete Polysyllabic Spree by Nick Hornby, and Old Man & the Sea by Hemingway.