Why Your England So Bad? World Englishes and the way forward for Malaysian writers

So. In the light of all the nasty debates over proper grammar and How English Standards Are Going Down The Drain in Malaysia, I figured I should post this online.

Now, to clarify, I used to be quite pedantic about my English and how perfect it has to be. It took reading a lot more local stuff that worked instead of the super-stilted Proper English Written by Malaysians (grammatically correct, but ugh) for me to figure out that no, actually...there is a rhythm and a beauty to the way we speak that actually makes sense. Malaysian English isn't quite standardised across races/states to be a proper creole, but there ARE rules to how we phrase things, which sometimes deviates a little depending on whether you're more influenced by Chinese, Malay, Tamil, or dll. Even pure bananas like me pick it up second-hand. And I don't speak any Chinese and my Malay is abysmal. haha.

It took me coming to study Creative Writing in London to figure this out. Who knew World Englishes is a Thing? They don't talk about it back home. BUT THEY SHOULD.

Anyway, I performed this at the The Decolonial Earth event in Goldsmiths, talking about my linguistic heritage. It starts with the monologue, titled 'Banana', and then continues with the rest of the essay.

DOWNLOAD MONOLOGUE

When I first started writing ‘Banana’, I had no idea what I wanted to say. It was something of a mishmash of thoughts and frustrations interspersed with some sort of a story. In a way, this monologue is a showcase of my ongoing confusion over who I’m supposed to be.

Technically, I know who I’m supposed to be. I’m ethnically Chinese, of Malaysian nationality. But it’s not quite that simple.

Like Karen, I often describe myself as a 100% Banana. Like, you would probably never find a less Chinese-speaking Chinese in Malaysia. And it’s a question I’ve been asked all through my life.

“Why don’t you speak Chinese?” 

I blame my father’s side of the family. (My dad is the one on the left.) My grandfather lost his parents to the Japanese occupation in Johor as a teen and my grandmother came to Malaysia alone also as a teen. Without family and community, both of them fell out of touch with their cultural heritage. They spoke Cantonese at home whilst living in Ipoh, but my dad 'forgot' how to speak Cantonese when he moved to Penang as a teen.

So, I grew up in an English-speaking Christian household (which means you don’t practice Chinese customs which are inherently Buddhist or Taoist) and attended a Sekolah Kebangsaan, or national school—but it was a Methodist school, which counted as “English-Ed”.

I lived in a very white-presenting bubble. Technically, we had all races—Malay, Chinese, Indian—but we spoke English to each other. And of course, enjoyed our banana leaf rice.

It wasn’t until I was in the US for a work thing that two things became very clear. For all I’m immersed in White culture, I’m too Asian to be White. Fair enough. And then I visited a Chinese-speaking church in San Jose and realised how un-Chinese I was, even though I was actually from and based in Asia.

Now, this is the hard thing—at least for me. If you are diaspora who grew up in Britain, or in Australia, or in North America, it’s easier to reconcile some of that dissonance. You’ve chosen the cultural affiliations associated with the country you or your parents migrated to.

I am very firmly rooted in Malaysia. What excuse do I have?

“Why don’t you speak Malay?”

This is where the bubble comes in—for all that the Chinese diaspora is so thoroughly Malaysian (and quite proud of it), it’s usually the food and celebrations that are highlighted. Not the language. Instead of Bahasa Malaysia being the common ground, we often just revert to English, especially in church bubbles.


I mean, technically, I’m bilingual. I learnt Malay for eleven years in school. I read the language better than I speak it. Yet for all practical purposes, I’m monolingual.



As a writer—and even before I started writing—language has formed a very core part of my identity. I count myself as a native speaker, English as my mother tongue, even though it won’t be officially recognised anywhere. Without it, I don’t know who I am. It’s a poor excuse, I know.

But honestly, I’m afraid. I’m one of those terribly timid people who won’t do a thing because of fear of embarrassment. And besides change, language is my biggest fear.

I only have one trick: my words, in English.

I’ve been reading books by people of colour recently—written in English, not translations—and I’ve come to realise this. English, as written by the whites, has become quite sterile. It’s dead, rooted in Shakespeare and the Bible, even if they’re not quite aware of it.

These books aren’t.

My reviews can be found under this tag: https://blog.annatsp.com/search/label/WNDB

They’re unapologetic about the words they use, about the cultural ideas they represent, and the languages they slip in. (Take notes! Read These Books!)

There is a level of acceptance of dialect and slang in literature, a sort of hierarchy of languages. As long as it’s a White dialect (Yorkshire, Irish, Midwest, Shakespearean) or Euro-centric (Latin, French, Italian)—maybe a little Spanish, but not too much—it’s okay. Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot is allowed his quaint sayings. Huckleberry Finn is “natural”.

But add in some Tamil or Malay or Chinese and it’s like oh my God, why do you have all these weird foreign words? It’s so unrelatable.

But diversity is what people are looking for now. People of colour are looking to see themselves represented in fiction—and it can’t just be the colour of their skin. Not just being the token brown guy. It has to also be the way they speak, the way they mix languages, the thoughts and feelings that cannot be divorced from who they are.

We read to make sense of the world, to discover who we are. But even more, we write to discover who we are, who we are becoming. Even if it’s only to say that we’re leaving parts of our heritage behind. It happens.

Language has always evolved. English is one of the stupidest, most annoying languages to learn whether spoken or written because it has absorbed and Anglicised so many 'foreign' words that they’re not even aware of it. There are many native Englishes because it’s spoken all around the world thanks to colonisation.

What we should be working towards now is to recognise the beauty of these variants and use them in fiction—to create works of art instead of upholding this so-called hierarchy of languages.

Stolen from https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/World_Englishes
Malaysia is part of the Outer Circle.

There’s a difference between a heart language and one that you’re using solely for communication. We need to allow the diaspora—they need to allow themselves—to write in their heart language, the one that comes out of them in their comfort zone, even if it’s a creole that only their community gets. To be empowered to tell their stories in their languages—even if it isn’t “proper” English!

When I think about a decolonial future, I think about these voices in Malaysia who switch from English to Malay to Chinese to Tamil with ease, who bask in bilingual puns, and poke fun at their own cultures, yet are united because of their security in their national identity, no matter what language they speak.

Oh yeah, and that one token white guy because we can.

#bookreview: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child

Harry Potter and the Cursed Child: Parts One and Two by John Tiffany
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Slightly conflicted about this. The beginning feels very disjointed, as if they're trying to squeeze in too much backstory. It skips through the years fairly quickly--skims, rather. It's really rather hit or miss. And then it somehow settles into the meat of the story midway through and gets better.

The Cursed Child supposedly centres on Albus Severus Potter, Harry Potter's middle child. He's trying to live up to his father's reputation, to the ease with which his older brother James is gliding through Hogwarts, whilst he is struggling with magic and with the shame of being a Potter in Slytherin. His only friend is Draco Malfoy's only son, Scorpius Malfoy. Scorpius initially feels mostly like comic relief, but midway through, the play switches up and he carries the story instead.

These two boys, both failing to live up to their family names, try to change the course of personal history but instead find themselves facing choices that may very well destroy the whole wizarding world, undoing everything Harry Potter had done in the original series. This time though, it's not so much a story of the expectations that lie on the shoulders of one boy because of prophecy than it is an exploration of friendship and loyalty and how that changes people.

Reading the first bit of it a second time and working out the staging in my head made it fit together better though, so maybe by the time I finish the second read, it'll start working in my head. (Or maybe I should just go try to see the show.)

View all my reviews

#musicmonday: What Can I Do | Tye Tribbett

Revisiting the Semicolon playlist.

I should go back and rework it.
Hm.

#fridayflash: Fleshing Susie Monahan

You’re cold and hard and lonely and I want to comfort you, but you don’t want comforting. It’s not just professionalism or “clinical” like some of the fellows here. I know, it’s my job, but I do care. That’s why I became a nurse. To make people feel happier in their saddest times. To let them know they are loved, that they’re wanted and cared for even if they’re alone.

You’re so alone, Vivian. You don’t want to let me in. I mean, you listen to me sometimes, you laugh and you seem welcoming for a while, but when I leave I know you freeze up again, stuck in your lonely little tower. Maybe you laugh at me a little because I really don’t know what you’re getting at sometimes. I don’t know what to say sometimes, because you make me feel stupid with your big words and your sarcastic voice. So I just try to be my kindest even if I don’t understand.

I do wish I had taken poetry. It’s not just empty words. I do wish I had learnt something of it, if only to be able to connect with you in some way. It’s all you know, and it kills me that it’s something I cannot give to you as part of my care. As part of my love.

You and Jason are so alike. Always thinking. Always puzzling things out. You’re so smart that you’ve forgotten what it means to be human. What it means to love. What it means to care for someone… and to be cared for. I imagine you as a young lady sometimes, maybe about my age, and I think about you falling in love – but I think you’d only fall in love with his brains. Or with his words. With his ideals. But you can’t live on those, sweetheart. You can’t.

I overheard you asking Jace if he would miss people. I don’t think he would. I don’t think he’s capable of it. But I would. 

I would miss you, even if it’s only to hear you laugh at me.

---

Preliminary character work on Susie Monahan from the play W;T by Margaret Edson, which is slated to show on June 16 & 17 at PenangPAC.

I also started on a Susie/Jace piece, but didn't have time to complete it. I should probably work on it before the next rehearsal.

---

Which makes me think that Semicolon doesn't work because I didn't do enough character work. I thought I knew them enough, but now I realise that I never wrote their monologues and first-person pieces, not like I did for A Place to Call Home. 

So yeah, that needs more work.

---

Also, second last day to use the Smashwords coupon for 50% discount on Coexist. Talk to me if you need one ;)

Where I've been, where I'm going - an update

I suppose I should give an account of where I've disappeared to.
I decided to take a break after the stupid #30to30 challenge I put myself on. That was an exercise in self-flagellation, I think. Hah.

And then I was trying to complete the script for this year's Christmas that I've been thinking/working on intermittently since April. I'm in scene 3 of 4 and I hate it already so I highly doubt this thing is going to end and/or work. Gah. This weekend will be the last ditch effort (I said that about last weekend) but seriously, if it doesn't end this weekend, I'm giving up.

Mainly because on Sunday, I'll be meeting up with 3 other writers and Yasmin from Penang Women's Development Corporation (PWDC) to talk about a new project - Voices: The realities of women - a programme for this year's George Town Literary Festival (GTLF). SO. That's a new project (short term) on the slate so I won't have time for regrets over a script that isn't working.

I only have a dance for the Nov #215live and a drama workshop coming up in November to worry about AND OH THE STUPID NONSENSE... I just realised my drama workshop is on the same dates as GTLF.

*halp*
meh.

#30to30: Day 11 - on writing

Yesterday I spent 1.5 hours in Nando's writing a script for the next #215live on Oct 4. It's still a first draft - probably will need to be tweaked, especially the beginning and the ending, but I suppose most of what I think should be in the play is already there.

I didn't really have to crack my head too much about it - I was given the theme of the next #215live a few weeks ago, kept it in the back burner of my mind, read up on Jonah, and when I finally sat down to write (I was supposed to have done this a while ago) it just kind of spilled out through my fingers. This is totally different from when I sit down and try to write a script for Short + Sweet. I cracked my head for ages, wrote and rewrote several pages, and ended up missing the deadline anyway.

Any clue on why this is?

The only thing I can think of is... "it's God."

2012: a year in review

I took a screenshot of my stats page today, looked up last year's review and had the shock of my life. Sometime in the frame of 366 days, my blog somehow garnered forty-one THOUSAND page views. How did that happen?
For all my readers, regular or sporadic, THANK YOU SO MUCH. You really made my year!

It really has been a crazy and fruitful year, and I'm not sure how I got through it all. All I can say is thank you, God. And thank you, all of you who have stood by me this year, to listen to my endless whingeings and whinings.

The major highlights of the year have been:

Israel Houghton Concert: I took a trip down to Singapore in February for Israel Houghton's concert, stayed with my cousin, and managed to meet up with quite a few friends, new and old.

A to Z challenge: The fest saw me writing 26 pieces of flashfiction in April, one of which remains my top read post of all time (as seen above).

YES Broadway Penang: Met many crazily talented dancers and singers through this programme in June, and had my one minute of fame as Mrs Lovett.

A Place To Call Home, the musical: My second full-length libretto, and my first try at actually directing. Conclusion remains that... I suck at directing, but it was a great experience. Oh. I also suck at costumes (no big surprise) and overall stage designery stuff.

Launch of annatsp.com: I finally launched my own website after thinking about it for a long time, and also launched my facebook page.

Stories from A Place To Call Home: Published a book of flash fiction based on the musical, and have 143 downloads to-date.
I'm pretty happy with this, seeing that I haven't really been doing much promotion for it.

Bali and Phuket: Two trips this year, with wonderful friends and CG members. I enjoyed the breaks even if they put me in frightening places!

GTLF2012: Attended my first Literary Festival! Also met a writer friend and attended the launch of her third novel. 

Nanowrimo 2012: Finished for the fourth time. And realised that I really need to get round to editing all these words that are lying around and do something with them. I suppose that will be 2013's goal.

Coursera: Got my first cert from Coursera.org for the Greek & Roman Mythology course! I struggled through some of the stuff... but it was fun all the same.

Giveaways: Ran my first giveaway on a whim. Experimented with Rafflecopter. I might do this again. On another whim, depending. 

Big Bad Wolf: Finally visited the Big Bad Wolf sale and came home very happy. I've already read 5 of the 19. All the unread books, which now fill 3 book shelves, are going into my read goals for 2013. I really need to clear those shelves out. 

Hasn't it been a really busy year? I felt quite tired going through all the things that have been happening. Looking over it now, I really don't know how I did it. 

2012 has been a good year overall, even if I didn't think it was while I struggled through it.
I wonder what 2013 will be like?

a belated #nanowrimo update

So I haven't been updating you on my progress for a while.
I've been busy writing. Progress looks good to finish nanowrimo on time this year, though I have a feeling that the story may be longer than 50K words this round. I feel as if I've been jumping from perspective to perspective for some odd reason, but it helps me to figure out what's going on in this story. Sorry, I'm still pantsing it. I should actually go and work on plot, since I'm so bad at it, but I figure I'll work it out AFTER November.

What has really been helping me this year is joining word sprints on the NaNoWriMo group on facebook. What we do is we set a starting time (say :00) and a length (for 20 [mins]), and at the end of the period we check in to see how each of us does. I've figured that my most efficient writing sprint is 20 minutes. I average 700-odd words at 20 minutes, which is interesting seeing that I usually only manage about 400 odd words in 15 minutes. Productivity drops after that, with about 800 - 900 words in 30 minutes. On a good day, I manage 1K words in 30 minutes.

Excerpt:

The Nameless One floated in the darkness of the abyss, nameless, faceless, formless. It felt the straining of its power against the bonds that held him. A soft creak, like rope being stretched too far, sounded somewhere near the boundary. The magic that held him was growing weaker by the day. If it had a face, he would have grinned like a very sinister Cheshire Cat. As it was, a feeling of smugness pervaded the abyss under Pieterose.
"Listen to me," it whispered into the willing ear, bent to his will. "The boy will seek to overpower you. And while he does that, who knows what will happen to Kayner? Evil is closing in on you at Charoite from Under Pieterose, and you will not be caught napping. No, no matter what everyone says, it is best to head off evil from the very beginning."
In a distant place, the listener nodded at its wise words. The boy was unimportant. The duel was unimportant. Winning this war with the Unmentionables was of paramount interest to Kayner at the moment.
"It is breaking out, Erel, and only you can stop it. Only you have the power and the might as well as the right to do it. No one else," the Nameless One continued, sending a sense of urgency to its listener. "You must do something. Only you see the danger. Everyone is so blind!"
The Nameless One chuckled silently to himself. How unaware this old man was! How unconsciously he absorbed everything that the Nameless One whispered to the black recesses of his heart. Oh, if only the Sub Authoruss knew who was really talking to him. Did he really think that it was the voice of the elusive Book? The Book was not in Charoite, the Nameless One knew, though the Sub Authoruss went blindly about the castle looking for it. It could feel the absence of the Book's power on the Seat of Charoite, though it was still somewhere in Kayner. That absence of power was what gave it the strength to push against its boundaries, pushing out until it could project its voice into the very void.
Soon, when the Sub Authoruss was within reach, the Nameless One would be able to draw on his magic and strength, like a leech. And then Kayner would be his. If it could laugh, it would have laughed, with evil maniacal guffaws, but as it was, a feeling of mirth spread through the abyss. Time. Time was on its side now.
Other things floated in the abyss with it, but the Nameless One ignored them. They were small and powerless against it; broken spirits, Fay, Gnome and human, of those who had tried and failed to usurp the power of the Authorusses. But it was different. The Nameless One searched the countless memories it held within itself, searching through the many faces it had once held. It was one, but many. It was legion. It would soon rule Kayner.

On other matters, I attended my first write-in with Patricia at Starbucks NWP last Saturday. It was a nice time discussing our WIP (mine is so plot-holed, argh!) and doing a little writing (but not that much). May possibly meet up with Rabia at this week's George Town Literary Festival so I need to hurry up and do more writing because I won't be free this weekend. Also I met Gina Yap, a writer with Buku Fixi who's going to launch her novel this weekend at the Fest!

FINALLY, if you want to see what I've been working on with Phoebe, join us for A Family Christmas Celebration at PCC on 22 Dec (Sat) 7.30pm and/or 23 Dec (Sun) 10am.

I'm a busy, busy girl! =D

Blast from the past: We All Fall Apart

Every once in a while, I revisit the stuff that I wrote a long time ago. On Sunday, my brother asked if I had any samples of "romance" stuff to help him in some story he's writing. I wandered back to my fictionpress site and stumbled upon this old thing.

We All Fall Apart was written for Script Frenzy in 2007. Uploading it to fictionpress killed part of the formatting, but it's still readable. It's corny. And blatantly immature teen flick. And definitely still playing on that theme I had of jazz bands and surprise parties. I still love the ending though, corny as it is.

ALEXIS: 

Oh James. You're just too sweet, you know that Mez?

            (She reaches up and touches his face.)

Shh… don't say anything. Just let me talk. There was a time, when you were so distant, and Cedric was just too real and all there. I wondered then – what if? What if he was really the one? What if you didn't care about me anymore? What if you really had found your happiness with Heather, and just didn't know how to tell me? Would I just try to hang on and be cast aside? Or should I strike off on my own and make my own happiness?

Shh… wait. Then there came your letter. It blew up my whole world. I couldn't believe that my worst nightmare was coming true. I was so bitter I thought I would rather just break it off on my own rather than wait for you to drop the bombshell that I obviously wasn't meant to know about yet. It was devastating for me. I guess for you too. But I didn't want to care I didn't want to feel.

And then I learnt the truth about who Heather really was later on. I was still wondering, though. I was still bitter. And then Ceddy said something that really hit me on the head.

I asked him that question – the one about true love. He said it's about making a commitment and sticking to it. It's a promise – of being faithful to each other. And I came to a conclusion.

JAMES

What was that?

ALEXIS

A while ago, I made a commitment, and a promise. I don't want to go back on that. I think that being faithful isn't that you're never tempted, or that you're some kind of person with angelic thoughts and motives. Being faithful doesn't mean that you're a super hero and will never ever think of liking anyone else ever again. I feel that being faithful, is really choosing to ignore all the other distractions that come your way, even whilst acknowledging that those distractions are real. But it's a primarily a choice. It's a difficult choice. I'm not saying it's not. And truthfully, I do have to admit that in some ways, Ceddy is just… I don't know how to put it. He's one of those guys that's always there for you. And he really cares. He listens. In a way, I do like him. But in so many other ways, I do believe that you're the one for me. Even though I know things aren't great now. Things are in real fact, falling apart.

But! Listen to the but - I choose to honour that promise I made you a long time ago.

As long as I breathe…

JAMES

As long as I live…

ALEXIS

You're mine.

JAMES

You're beautiful.

He puts his arms around her.

JAMES (V.O.)

Love is nothing to the world

A hug and kiss means nothing much

But when I kiss you

I want to kiss you forever

They get up and walk to the car, holding hands. The sprinklers turn on and they laugh, chasing each other through the falling water.

JAMES (V.O.)

When I touch you

I want to touch you forever

When I know you

I want to know you forever

INT. ALEXIS' ROOM – CONTINUOUS

She takes out her diary and lies on her stomach on the bed. She bits the end of her pencil, taps it on her chin and then starts writing.

JAMES (V.O.)

Time comes and goes

Friendships live and die

But when I love you

I want to love you forever

INT. JAMES ROOM – CONTINUOUS

He lies on his bed, with his hands behind his head, with a smile on his face. He picks up his hand phone and dials her number. He talks for a while.

JAMES

Only you.

INT. ALEXIS' ROOM – CONTINUOUS

She puts down the phone and then keeps the diary. As she passes by her table, she stops to look at the photo frame on her table that holds his picture and smiles widely. She switches off the light.

(Ok, I admit the monologue-y stuff needs work).

P/S: Bali pictures are up on facebook. I will (maybe) blog about it soon.

#review: Short + Sweet Theatre Penang

I managed to catch Short + Sweet Theatre Penang on Thursday night and found it very sweet, but hardly short. Well, with 11 short plays of around 10 minutes, total run time was around 110 minutes. Adding in the opening intro to Short + Sweet as well as introduction of cast, directors and playwrights after the show, the whole production took slightly more than two hours.

Rather reluctant at the moment to give it an grading in terms of overall production, but I would say that on a whole, I liked it a whole lot more than Indicinelive IV.

A rundown of the plays (more or less in sequence):

1. Echo (Toby Teh)
The play centres around a blind girl auditioning for an acting role. The thing that irked me from the start was the awkward speaking style of the actress. I initially thought that she had a speech disability or some mental deficiency before I realised she was blind (dark glasses might have worked better than closing her eyes all the time?). I don't know if that was the way she really talks or it was an assumed accent, but I think the play would have been more solid if it was more evident that she was perfect for the role and the only reason she's not being considered was because she was blind.

2. Away from     , away from      . (Ankoku)
This monologue plays on the politics and hardships between three generations of one family. I saw the original play acted by the playwright himself during the Short + Sweet Workshops in April, and all I can say is the actor did not quite flesh out the passions and raw emotions inherent in the script. I think it was difficult for Rio to play all three characters (the shifts in characters were not obvious enough), so maybe having three separate actors for the three generations instead of one playing all three might have worked better.

3. Smart Phones Stupid People (Jackie Ashkin)
The awesome Jackie Ashkin (whom I worked with in Broadway Penang) wrote this one, about an iPhone, a dangerous wild animal, and two crazy friends out in the Sahara. Okay, so I read this script during the Short + Sweet Workshops in April and I must say I was pretty disappointed with the final product. Sorry. I blame it all on the director, though. In my opinion, keeping it simple and subtle would have enhanced the story. As it was, the fancy costumes, blatant attempts to sexualise it, and the over-the-top acting, as well as that strange ending with the Vote sign just made me... confused? (Also, too much panting and shivering involved. There are other ways to show fear than shaking.)

4. My Home (Wong Lay Chin)
I am having difficulty coming up with a blurb on this because I don't read the Chinese characters in the programme. Surprisingly, I enjoyed it, even though I didn't really understand the song they were singing. It was stunningly well acted.

5. Love is a Four Letter Word (How Han Ming)
The blurb says: Nice Guy and Jerk engage in a battle of jokes and pickup lines to win over Nice Girl. Um. This was one of those plays where they break the walls and speak to the audience. Plus point was that they were intentional about it right from the start. Minus point was that the whole play was pretty pointless.

6. We Were Made Fools (Yasmin Bathamanathan)
This was a very real, very gritty play about how migrant workers ended up in Malaysia. The acting was solid, with the actors putting realistic accents that fit with the scene. Loved it, despite not getting the point of the dance in the beginning of the play.

7. The Martyr (John Harris)
The play was about two people discussing life at the funeral of their abuser and I liked it up to the point where the two actors suddenly broke the scene by talking about missing lines and doing it with the script, and arguing. After that, I was just plain confused. Again, what was with the weird chicken costume? However, I did feel that the actors were more fluent when they broke the scene and spoke in Malay.

8. Confessions of Perfection (Yvette Chan)
Great performance by Gowri, and a good script by Yvette. (Blurb confused me by saying "two teenagers confess..." when there was only one.) The part I didn't get were the awkward motions in between staging. Was that supposed to mean/represent something?

9. Small Talk Really Stinks (Terence Toh)
This was good from the beginning until the end, and I think drew the most response from the crowd. Wouldn't be surprised if this got the Audience Choice Awards. We could identify with both characters right from the start and it was very Malaysian, very local and very funny. The only problem I had with this script was HOW COULD YOU TEAR A PAGE OUT OF A BOOK?!?! SACRILEGE!!! My heart stopped. Poor book. *tears*

10. Somnus (Catherine Ooi)
In this one, Danny takes his insomniac wife on a trip to the countryside in the hopes that she will finally get some sleep. It seems like she doesn't. A rather dark little play, but pretty well done.

11. Drive All Night (Mark Sasse)
Two major thoughts emerged from this play. One, the kid is cute, and two, the actors were too young for the script. This very teenage cast wasn't quite believable in a play about a guy who drives all night after a quarrel with his wife and is confronted by various radio programming which forces him to rethink his marriage. Also, I do believe from his motions that his driver's seat is on the left of the car. I'm guessing that he (and the director) either doesn't drive, or at the least, they don't drive in Malaysia.

So that wasn't a rather short and sweet review of the Short + Sweet Theatre.

There are two more runs at Stage 2, Penangpac (Straits Quay) at 8.30pm on Friday (14/9) and Saturday (15/9). Tickets are RM28 for adults and RM23 for students, TAS and senior privilege card holders.

Call 8991722 if you want to book tickets! (Especially for Saturday).

Hysterical #atozchallenge

Read part 1: Fuzzy
Read part 2: Gyroscope

Cherise stared at him. “You mean I’m stuck here forever?” She grabbed his lapels frantically. “I can’t be! I'm only twenty. I have my whole life to live and my boyfriend is waiting for me at home and he must be really worried by now -”

“Would that be George or Mike?” he asked, gently prying her fingers off him.

“Fine. I don't really have a boyfriend.”

“No, you seem to have several.”

“God, how did I get caught up in this?”

“By calling His name in vain, I suppose.”

Cherise fell on her knees. “Dear God, I really promise, if you would just let me get back home again, I'll be good. I'll go to church every week. I'll... I'll even read my Bible - when I can find it. I'll - “

Cherise scrambled to her feet as a loud siren blared in the distance. Footsteps pounded in the hallway and a young officer dashed through the door.

“Emergency in the bridge, Sir!”

“I’m coming.”

“Wait! Wait! Don’t leave me here!”

“Sorry, my dear. You can’t come to the bridge.”

“But - you said I was free to go anytime, right? Like even right now?”

“Yes, you’re free to go anywhere you wish on this ship, except the bridge. That is strictly off-limits to everyone except the crew.”

“But -”

“I’m sorry, I really do have to go.”

She watched as the man calmly walked out of the room, then fell back on the bed.

“Oh, God, what do I do now?”

“You could try using your brain a little,” a voice said out of nowhere.

Cherise sat up in a fright. “Who said that?”

“Me, of course.”

“Who’s me? Where are you? Are you a ghost?”

A low amused chuckle came out of nowhere.
“I’m the one who brought you here, Cherise.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I know everything about you.”

“You do? Who are you? A maniac? A stalker? Oh my goodness, I have a stalker! I’m going to die!”

“Hush, child. You panic so easily.”

“But I’m scared.”

“Don’t get hysterical about it. Look, I brought you here for a reason.”

“You? Are you… who are you?”

“I am me, as you are you. For now, you can just call me Ship.”

“You brought me here? You? You crazy… thing!” Cherise started kicking at the nearest wall.

“I don’t feel pain like you do, you know. The only thing that will come out of that is the Captain will be quite upset if you damage anything. He does like a neat and proper ship. And I don’t want him to be angry with you.”

“What do you want?”

“The Captain is a good man. Just a little reserved sometimes, but very kind hearted. He called me soft-hearted, didn’t he? I’m very mean compared to him. I am being mean now, after all.”

“And your point is?”

“He needs a good woman -”

“And you think I’m the one? You must be crazy! You can’t just kidnap me like that and ask me to marry him! Why don’t you use your brain? Or whatever it is you have?”

“Stop being so silly!”

“But you -”

“He wouldn’t like you. You’re so… so… hysterical. And besides, you’re too young for him. No. What I want for you to do is to let him take you home and introduce him to your sister.”

“My sister?”

“Yes, your lovely sister.”

Cherise though about it slowly, a smile spreading on her face. “She does need a man, after all.”

---

 Hysterical:

1. Of, characterized by, or arising from hysteria.

2. Having or prone to having hysterics.

3. Informal Extremely funny: told a hysterical story. 

 

---

 

This will be the last instalment of this mini space opera series. I hadn't intended to do it this way, but there it is. The words take you to places you've never dreamed of. (And I discovered I can actually write something sci-fi-ishish. Double ish because it's not quite quite, but somewhere there, if that makes sense.)

I actually re-drafted this short story (well at least the Fuzzy and Gyroscope posts) into script format last Saturday night as a submission for the Short + Sweet acting, directing and playwriting workshops we were having and the actors loved it, or so they said. I don't know about Alex though, he didn't give much feedback.

Well if all goes well I'll probably be reworking that script, plus the extras from today's post, into a final script for submission. Rahr.

Fuzzy: a very late #atozchallenge and #fridayflash

Cherise groaned. There was a caveman playing rocks in her head, and the room seemed to be swimming. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. Yesterday was a fuzzy recollection of too much to eat and… drink? Had she gone drinking? She didn’t think so. She remembered not so clearly ordering orange juice to the laughter of her colleagues.

George had been a total jerk, of course, trying to force her to down a glass of Tiger. She had yelled at him, saying that she would never ever go anywhere with him again. He had shrugged and laughed. Fuming, she grabbed her purse and walked out of the club with Mike, who had - was this right? - been egging George on. She rubbed at her temples, wondering if she would ever think straight again.

Mike had taken her to the new indie place out at Victoria Street and bought her coffee. At least, she thought it was coffee. Was it coffee? Was she there with Mike alone? As dubious as it seemed, she seemed to think that was right. Next - next was that blurred out part where she had been dragged up on stage to sing with whoever it was who had been singing. She had nearly died from embarrassment - at least that was a feasible reason to not remember that bit.

Come to think of it - where am I? she thought as the room stopped swaying enough for her to not recognise the furniture. At least she was in her own clothes. There was that. Her eyes focused on a little white clock on the wall. She had never put a clock in her room because she didn’t want to be hounded endlessly by the things she needed to do, though why a clock would give her that sense of hounding she had never quite figured out.

And where is the door? Cherise gazed around the room, trying to identify the familiar outlines of a doorway. The caveman seemed to be getting more excited the more she tried. The clock faded into the whitewash of the wall and Cherise gave up.

She lay her head back down on the pillow.

Read part 2: Gyroscope 
Read part 3: Hysterical

---

fuzzy:

1. having a frizzy texture or appearance: a girl with fuzzy dark hair
2. difficult to perceive; indistinct or vague: the picture is very fuzzy that fuzzy line between right and wrong (of a person or the mind) unable to think clearly; confused: my mind felt fuzzy
3. another term for fuzzed. their former jolly sound has been drowned in swathes of layered, fuzzy guitar
4 . Computing & Logic relating to a form of set theory and logic in which predicates may have degrees of applicability, rather than simply being true or false. It has important uses in artificial intelligence and the design of control systems.

---

Will be at S+S workshops all this weekend (that's Short and Sweet to you) where we learn how to write and act and direct 10-minute plays!
Tonight's session has been awesome fun, and psst... Alex Broun is easy on the eyes. ;)

It's almost April! The #atozchallenge is coming soon

I kind of woke up to the fact that it's already the end of March and I had better get my butt moving to figure out what I'm doing for the A to Z blogging challenge this year. Well, the poll (now closed) seems to indicate that I should be doing random unrelated flash fiction, and if you remember, I decided that I'm going to be using the last word for each letter in the dictionary as prompts for this year's post. I did cheat a little - for times where the last word happens to be an abbreviation, or a suffix, I used the word directly before it.

So here's my list of words for the month, based on my trusty Oxford from school (oh wait, my brother's Oxford dictionary), 1998 edition:

1. Azure
2. Byzantine
3. Church [edited]
4. Dystrophy
5. Excuses [edited]
6. Fuzzy
7. Gyroscope
8. Hysterical
9. Ivy
10. Juxtapose
11. Kyle
12. Lucky 7 Meme [edited]
13. Myxomatosis
14. Nymphomania
15. Ozone layer
16. Pyx
17. Qwerty
18. Restless [edited]
19. Sleep, don't weep [edited]
20. Tzatziki
21. Uxorious
22. Vying
23. Wysiwyg
24. Xylophone
25. Yuppie
26. Zygote

Say it with me, say it with me... LYSERGIC ACID DIETHYLAMIDE?!?!? >.< Ok you know what, I'm cheating on that one. I'll use the word before that, which is lyricist.

---

I'm really sorry for the long blog silence. A lot of stuff is going on right now which is taking up a lot of time and effort and energy. To keep it simple, here's an update of what's happening in my life, and what's been happening.

1. MY JOB.
Yes, my job has been happening. I'm not a full time writer or blogger, though I wish I could be, and January to June are the busiest periods of my work. It's sad. Because I think I work too hard and I'm already the laziest person in the office. HA! In fact I have another deadline this Friday, which is actually going to be Thursday, because my boss goes on leave on Friday.

2. AUDITIONS
Yes, we've started auditions for our church musical and so that's been taking up time from my writing weekends. It's exciting - even though sometimes I think we're just winging it like crazy. Well, we have to start somewhere, right? This Sunday we'll be having callbacks to firm up the main cast and then practices are going to start.

3. THE SCRIPT!
I know I've been mentioning this for the longest time ever, but I'm still not quite satisfied with the script. I've been touching up scenes here and there, re-working some bits but my main bugbear is I just don't know how to deal with the ending. If you've read my blog long enough, you'll know that I always have problems with endings and closures. I suppose this... is just another revelation of it. Sigh. *help* And yes, it's HELP! indeed, because PRACTICES ARE GOING TO START!

4. A TO Z
As mentioned above, A to Z is starting. On Sunday. I am not prepared.

5. SHORT + SWEET
For the first time ever, there's going to be a Short + Sweet festival in Penang. Or at least the workshops anyway. So I've signed up for that. It's 3-day workshop on 6-8 April, touching on Playwriting, Acting and Directing. There's also a dance stream, but... that's not quite for me.

6. REVOTOUR PENANG
In my everlasting tendency to overextend myself, when my friend Stella from Project Dance said they are doing a dance for RevoTour in May and wanted to make it an interchurch thing, I said yes. So I'm dancing, contrary to that last sentence in #5 above. My only consolation is that there are children. So I am not the only awkward one. But I am the only one without an excuse. Sigh.

7. HEADSTART
Headstart is starting again - a new batch... we're having an introduction lunch this Saturday (31/3/12) at Harvest In Cafe, Irrawady Road, so if you're a fresh grad, or you know a fresh grad, or you want to feel like a fresh grad, or you're confused as to whether you're a fresh grad, do join us... (e-mail me to tell me you're coming) we'll let you know what Headstart is all about and how you can join us. But since I'm writing this anyway, it's a one year discussion group based on the book "Following Jesus in the Real World" by Richard Lamb, aimed at helping fresh grads transition from university / college into the working world. Yes, so e-mail me. Or comment here so that I can e-mail you back.

8. FAITH, LOVE, HOPE...
Is currently on hold. What's that all about? See - I was working on compiling a set of short stories (10 in total) to publish some time in March, but as is evident, I do not have time to actually sit down and write. Well, I have about 5 stories at the moment but this project will definitely have to be on hold for the moment, at least until I settle the script. (Argh, you script! You! Script!) I'm thinking maybe September. Maybe.

There are probably more miscellaneous pies I have my fingers in (I haven't mentioned attempting to exercise, leading worship once a month, actually writing this blog, writing Fireplaces every Sunday, actually watching movies *more than one! gasp*, supporting local theatre and music, oh-gosh-Israel-Houghton-is-going-to-be-in-KL, cell group meetings, WEDDINGS! work, work, and more work) but this blog post is getting too long already - probably in attempt to make up for all the days I haven't been blogging.

This is where you probably shake your head and say, this girl is crazy.
I am.
I need a life.
LOL!

ALSO, in case you were wondering what happened to the book reviews (hah, not as if anyone was reading them, right) I happen to be on a fiction-reading fast for Lent. IT IS A PAIN. But oh, the amount of TIME it frees up. The only thing that really bugs me about this fast is the sudden need to find a dinner partner... I usually just bring my trusty book along.

Okay, so in signing off, I realise that I just gave you guys a bunch of text. Because I am pretty much a text person. But anyways, here's a little picture that keeps me sane:

#fridayflash: Dreams

The first thing Diane asked me when she found me was, “Are you going back?”
I didn’t know what to say. What was there to go back for? Mr. Lee had made it very clear that I wasn’t wanted. To think I had called the man ‘dad’ for a couple of years.
“Your mom misses you,” she said.
I found looking down, at the floor, at the walls, anywhere but her.
“Oh come on. Admit that you miss her too.”
Mrs. Lee. Mom. Well, I did at that. “Maybe,” I found myself saying.
“What are you doing here anyway?”
I could feel a blush rising from my neck to my cheeks as she gazed around the little coffee shop we were in.
“Working. Doing what I would have been doing three years ago if it hadn’t been for… mom,” I said, a little more brusquely than I had intended.
“I shouldn’t disturb you then. When do you get off?”
“We close at eleven. I… I’ll meet you at the park at midnight.”
She nodded, smiled, and left, leaving a churning in my chest.
I don’t really know why I had been so keen on chasing her away. It was pretty slow in the shop. Whatever few customers there already had their drinks and there hadn’t been any traffic in for a while. My two colleagues were just hanging out at the counter, chatting. They were looking at me curiously now.
“She’s really pretty, wei,” Li said, poking me in the ribs. “Your girlfriend ah?”
“So high class, you think can meh?” Siang said, shaking his head.
“Eh, he also quite high class wan mah. Look at him,” Li retorted.
I just shook my head, ignoring their comments. It was a good question, really. How did I ever think that Diane would ever like me? She was the true rich kid, the one who had everything. I was the replacement kid who never quite fit in. Midnight at the park. That would be interesting.

She was sitting on the same bench I always sat on. Funny thing - she was usually the one who used to sneak up on me from behind whilst I threw my questions into the void. Now she was sitting at my spot, gazing up at the stars in the sky and I was the one sneaking up on her. I stood for a while, watching her hair blow in the soft breeze. I must have made a sound, because she turned to look at me.
"Hello."
"That's all you can say?" she nodded me over.
We sat in silence for a long while.
"No questions for your god today?"
It didn't sound like it was said with much sarcasm, but it hurt anyway. I found myself shrugging wordlessly. Maybe I was angry at God, but I found that I didn't really want to ask Him anything. What was the point? I'd asked why He had taken away my family, and He put me in a new one. I asked why I was put into a family and a place where I obviously didn't fit, and in one dramatic moment, I was pulled out of it. On my own volition, I'll admit. Maybe that wasn't the God part. Maybe that was all me.
So I found my question.
"Was it me, God? Was all that mess actually my own doing? Could it be that I was meant to stay?"
"I thought you didn't want that kind of acceptance," Diane said, cutting through my thoughts.
"I... I don't. But... I don't know, Diane. I used to understand, or at least I thought I did. I'm just confused now."
"Welcome to the rest of the world."
"You don't believe in God, do you?"
"I know you do."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It's supposed to be your grand opening to tell me all about your god and why I should believe in him."
"What?"
She laughed. "Don't mind me, Dan. I’m just goading you. I just want you to go back to the fiery old you."
"The fiery..."
"You know, when you'd go up in blazes defending your God, defending all your beliefs. You're just... you just give this hopeless vibe right now. Like you're lost."
"Maybe I am."
She looked sad when I said that. I don't know why.
"So what are you going to do from here? Continue working at that shop?"
I tried to see if she was sneering at me, but her face was serious and just a little worried.
"There's no future there. Besides, with your grades you could get a scholarship anywhere you wanted."
I shrugged.
“You’ve got to live for something, Daniel. You can’t just drift. I always thought you were the high-flier. You were the one with a dream, with a purpose, with a passion. I used to envy you, wishing I could be that strong.”
“And I’ve let you down.” It was true. I could see it in her eyes, now that I’d figured out where she was coming from. “Diane.”
She stared at me expectantly as I fumbled for words.
“Would you have ever dated a loser like me?”
“Don’t you ever call yourself that! You are not a loser.”
"I am now. Look where I’ve ended up.”
“Don’t be silly, Daniel! You have the rest of your life before you. You never answered my question. Are you going back?”
“You haven’t answered mine. Would you?”
“Yes.” It was soft, sibilant, disappearing into the wind. I found myself grasping her fingers in mine, not remembering when I had caught them up.
“Then wait for me. I will be back. In time.”

The gravel crunched under my feet as I walked away from her, from the park, from the neighbourhood I once lived in. I didn’t owe them anything. The dreams were mine, not theirs, and I would chase them. One day, I will find my way home again.

This is a filler post, with writing, blood, food and music

It's been a crazy January and first week of February, with lotsa work deadlines, Chinese New Year and then the manic I-must-finish-this-script session. So this is what's been happening the since... since the last time I actually blog-blogged.

Update #1:
I FINISHED THE SCRIPT! YAY!
I totally hate the ending. Boo.
But I kinda like the emo bits. Haha. 
It's out with a few dramatic friends (lol) to critique so that they can tell me that it really sucks (I know that already) and the rest of the team so that they can figure out how to make it work better. And we're also waiting on our song writer to finish the songs *hint AGAIN*. So I'm putting it aside for the moment to concentrate on the book reviews I've been supposed to write. Supposing I do have the time in between the backlog at work, trying to write, trying to sleep, trying to stay sane and all that.

Update #2:
Just for the heck of it, THESE ARE MY KNEES:

Fresh

Scabbing

Because silly old me can't walk straight. You may now commisserate with me or just laugh your head off. That's what everyone in the parking lot did anyway.

Update #3:
I went on a food trip! Sorta. 
Okay, first off, I'm not much of a foodie. I don't take like a gazillion pictures of the food I'm about to eat or discuss the taste, presentation and what-nots of food. I mean, food is food, is food. You eat it. You like it or you don't. I don't drive to the next state just to eat food that I can get down the road, even if it's so much nicer in the next state. You get the drift.
At any rate, I was feeling bored and a little restless and I had finished up most of the script on Monday and was left with the last two scenes so I decided to follow the guys on their little Pulau Aman* excursion for seafood on Tuesday.
Surprisingly there was very little traffic heading out of Tanjung Bunga** to the Penang Bridge and out of the island as well despite it being Thaipusm (yay!). We cut out from the highway at Tambun, discussed the merits of the Claypot Crabs at Cai Xiang and set off to find the Pulau Aman jetty via some unknown-brand GPS. We found ourselves heading uphill via a very tiny track and figured something must be wrong before realising that we were actually heading up to a Celcom signal tower. Like, what?
Anyway, retracing our route, we saw finally saw a sign pointing us to the jetty. We took a short boat ride (abt 5 mins) over to the island.

The main point of this trip?

Fresh off the nets

Right into our tummies!

Okay, so it looks pretty gross this way, but it was delish! You take the scissors to cut off the butt (and for me, the head, cos it looks gross - the guys ate the heads!) and slit it along the side so you can pull off the shell and eat the lovely steamed meat inside. These are mantis prawns, by the way, just so you know. Oh and if you're looking for prices, these were mid-sized ones sold at RM40/kg. We picked 10 prawns*** which came up to RM48, and RM4 charge for steaming.
We had mee udang**** too, but it was nothing spectacular.
More pictures by Yuen Thern on FB. But I don't know if his album is public. 

Update #4:
I'm going to watch ISRAEL HOUGHTON live in Singapore NEXT THURSDAY!

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, it's past bedtime. I think you can tell.



* Peace Island, or maybe, Peaceful Island.
** Cape of Flowers. That's where I live! 
*** 10 ekor? tails? hahaha
**** prawn noodles

#fridayflash: Matthew

I never liked Matt much. He was brash, cocky, insufferable. But he was Rob’s second. I guess that counted for a lot because that was probably why I consented to date him a couple of weeks before he died. I would have liked to think that he was being reckless because I dumped him, but that’s just crap. He was always reckless. Well, it definitely wasn’t depression or some secret death wish. Matt thought too much of himself for that. He was more likely trying to prove me wrong because I told him he was a spineless little idiot. Which he was.

Our little gang consisted of Robert, Matthew, Brian, Elizabeth and me. Frankly, in most cases you wouldn’t be far wrong to think that Matt was our leader. He was always the one out there making the statements, being obnoxious and, in some cases, getting us out of trouble with his fast talking. You could say he was our public face.

If you put Rob and Matt head-to-head, they’d probably come out pretty even, except that Rob had brains and used them. He was saucy, of course, but he knew when to keep his head down. That’s why he stayed in charge. Matt just liked to be the centre of attention, even if it got him into unnecessary trouble. He only did things he thought would impress the people he looked up to. I know. I dated him, remember? So what if it was only for a week? You learn a lot about a person in a week of close contact. He was always worrying about what Rob thought about him, checking out of the corner of his eye whether he had Rob’s approval. Hell, I was his girlfriend, he should have been looking for my approval. Ask him to do anything when no one was watching, he’d just scowl at you and say it wasn’t worth his time.

But anyway, Rob thought highly of him. So when Matt asked me out I said I’d give it a try. I figured the boss must have seen something in him to make him his second, right? I did warn him upfront that I didn’t like him much but he could give his best shot to persuade me otherwise. He started off by bragging about all himself. Like how he cheated on his tests to get his perfect scores. And how rich daddy was. And how he’d had just about every girl in our class already. Way to turn on the new girlfriend, no? We were fourteen. I told him to his face that he was lying. He asked me to prove him wrong. I pointed out that he barely talked to any of the girls in class and never had. “Don’t need to talk to have sex,” he said. “You need to talk to invite them out first,” I replied. He just brushed me off and went on about the fights he had won. I don’t know. You want a guy to be manly and macho, but that doesn’t necessarily translate into him picking fights, right? Especially since he was normally bigger than them.

So when Rob wanted to do something I didn’t want to, I thought why not just tell Matt to ask him to change his plans just once? I mean, they were tight, weren’t they? He stared at me as if my brains were oozing out of my ears and said, “I could never betray Rob.” I was thinking, betray? What were they - lovers? So I told him forget it. If he was such a loser I would be better off dating Rob than him, right? Why settle for second best? Dumped him.

Week after that, he goes off on some crazy dare and dashed across the busiest road in town. I think he likely gave the poor truck driver a heart attack. He survived that one. I started to think it was high time I stopped hanging out with these nut jobs. A week later, while I’m still figuring out how to make my grand exit, he climbs up to the roof of our four-storey school building because Rob says he’s chicken. The boy doesn’t have sense. He just took the dare, slipped off and it’s lights out.

For a while after that everyone was tip-toeing about Rob as if he was so fragile because his best friend had died in a freak accident. You know the craziest part? Rob never shed a tear for him. 

---

So there's progress on the musical script, still tentatively named "Daniel". We really need a better name, but I suck at names. Meh. Played around with Stage32 and put up the project just for the heck of it. Check it out here. Status is, I've fleshed out the adoptive parents a little bit, and worked on Scene 3 where Daniel gets sent to the dead boy's elite, rich kid school. Couldn't keep calling him "dead boy" or "ex son" so I christened him Matthew, or Matt. This works out into a song and dance about what Matt used to be like and why Daniel doesn't measure up and because they're a rowdy bunch of kids, Daniel gets roughed up, leading to Scene 4 where Dad goes, this never happened with MY son. Or something like that.
Then I figured, I really have no idea who Matt is (not like I know that much about Daniel either), so I got one of the girls in the gang, Diane, to pick him apart. Diane sounds likely to be sympathetic to Daniel because he stands up for what he believes in, which is the opposite of what she hated about Matt. Maybe will work that out a wee bit in Scene 5. Scene 5 will be the closure for the first act, I hope, with some kind of truce between who he's supposed to be and who they want him to be. I don't know how much resolution I should put in yet. You kind of want something of a cliff hanger or a touching thing right before intermission, right?

Now if Daniel Chan Sr, our wonderful songwriter, will get round to giving me some music and lyrics, that might really help the progress of the script. I currently have blocks of areas that go "Cue song: [random title]. This should talk about xxxxx and lead up to xxxxx". *cue major HINT here* I'm thinking of penning some lyric ideas in, but I don't really know how to work that out.