Sunday, July 29, 2007

I'm turning psychic


No, seriously.

A series of dreams-turned-realities situations has prompted me to think that either Someone Up There is trying to send me a Message,
or I am really ready to start a business predicting the future through my dreams.


SITUATION 1

DREAM The Boyfriend of my good friend (let's name her 'A')
poured out his woes to me about the torn and tattered state of their relationship...clashes of personalities, habits and all.

REALITY I was roused from that dream by the incessant ringing of
my mobile. It was 'A'. In a cheerful sing-song voice that sounded just a tad too tight, she announced that it's all over with The Boyfriend.
After a particularly issues-fraught outing the night before, he had left for a business trip in the morning while she was still in bed, leaving behind an angst-filled letter in his wake. The letter detailed everything that's wrong with their relationship. The bottomline? He wanted a
re-think about The Future.

The dream and the reality wouldn't have weirded me out so much
if I had known that they had been experiencing difficulties in their relationship in recent times. It would have been normal if that's the case as the issue would probably sit on my mind a little. But I hadn't been giving their relationship much thought prior to the dream, since she had been regularly - and blissfully - assuring me that
all's well and nice.

And even The Boyfriend's appearance in my dream is weird,
since (A) I do not have a habit of dreaming about my friends' dudes, and (B) I don't know The Boyfriend all that well and I was never the main negotiator between them in times of past bust-ups. It would have made more sense for me to dream of 'A' crying on my shoulder instead.

More importantly, there's the timing of the dream and the call. Freaky.


SITUATION 2

DREAM Two sisters, Paprika and Pratasha, led a series of thrilling events in my dreamscape...events that I can't remember much of now.
I can only recall that I kept urging myself to keep in mind the name "Paprika". I also remember 'knowing' that she is the more important of the two heroines in my dream.

REALITY I was watching a documentary on Paris' worst rail crash in history on Arts Central the night after the dream when a trailer for a Japanese anime movie came on during the commercial break. However, I got distracted midway and missed the title of the movie.
A few minutes late, it came on again. This time, I caught the title. It's "Paprika".
:
Again, it would have been normal if I had been reading local mags or papers lately. Mentions (if any) of that movie might have crept into my consciousness without me realising so. But I haven't been reading local mags or papers recently (I rely solely on online news sites to keep in touch with the world these days).

What's more, 'Paprika' is a word that barely exists in my usual vocabulary. And I hadn't been near the potato chips aisle recently,
so there's little chance of that little word sneaking its way into my mind from a pack of chips. For the record, I have never bought or tasted anything Paprika-flavoured. This word simply isn't part of my life.

So what are the odds of me dreaming of a girl named Paprika and then chancing upon a movie by the title of 'Paprika' on a channel that
I hardly watch, less than 24 hours later? I am not a regular viewer of Arts Central. I used to be, but have not been so for quite a while.
I only tuned in to the documentary that fateful night after seeing its trailer on another channel.

I googled 'Paprika' the movie and found this synopsis:

In this Japanese anime epic, humanity's last bastion of privacy has finally been infiltrated by technology, the world of our dreams. The story centers on a new invention called the DC-Mini. With this revolutionary device, psychiatrists are now able to enter a patient's dreams in a therapeutic setting. But when an unknown assailant steals all of the devices, using them to enter peoples minds enacting mind control, chaos ensues as dreams begin to bleed into reality, and the thin line between the conscious and the unconscious begins to blur. Enter a young female researcher named Chiba, who takes it upon herself to delve into the newly anarchic dream world in order to set things straight. In this surreal realm her name is Paprika, and she's out to save the world.
















Note the premise that the movie is based upon. Note that line about dreams bleeding into reality. And note the female protagonist name. Freaky Freaky.


SITUATION 3

DREAM I'd turned Personal Assistant to Jolin Tsai and my task was to get ready a dress for her performance in my alma mater.
She fell sick at the eleventh hour and had to be admitted to hospital.
In another scene, Stefanie Sun confided in me that she could be preggers.

REALITY Of course I am no Personal Assistant of Jolin Tsai.
And of course Stefanie Sun is not preggers (well, I wouldn't know even if it's true, unless it's in the papers). But these two stellar money-printing machines appeared in completely separate stories in the front page of the same evening papers later that night. I saw it while picking up stuff at the supermarket.

Of course it's not uncommon for either Jolin Tsai or Stefanie Sun to make headlines. It's not even uncommon for them to be featured together on the same front page in a compare-and-contrast type of story. But when they appeared together in separate stories on the same front page of the same papers the same night that I had my dream in the morning, it left me feeling a bit weird out...again.
And again, those two characters had not been occupying my mind recently, and neither did I just hear any news relating to them.
This dream is not as freaky as the first two...but when I total them up, the freakiness index simply shoots to the sky. Freaky Freaky Freaky.

And that sums up why I think I am either turning psychic or
Someone Up There is cuing me to start paying attention
to my dreams. That is, one day, something important
(like 4 numbers) will be revealed to me via Channel Dreams.

Or maybe I have simply lost my marbles.






Thursday, July 26, 2007

My Castle In The Air (Version 1.0)


One day, my dream house will be home to such beauties:







Sunday, July 22, 2007

Attack of the Gigantic Fly Swatter in Old Hollywood


A friend sent me a picture of the $300-a-piece throne his company had so kindly bought to cushion each of their butts and backs while they slog it out at work.

Apparently, it is highly adjustable and so comfy that it completely justifies the price.

I certainly understand the importance of the comfort level of the office chair...it does make those 14-hour workdays much easier to bear.

However, let's not forget about aesthectic. An individual work space that's pleasing to its dweller's eyes is just as important.

So while I suspect I might never settle for any other office chair ever again once my butt touches this throne that my friend's butt is now resting on for 5 days a week (unless it's another even more expensive, even more comfy chair), I don't think I will ever get over its ugliness.

To be fair, this expensive piece of office furniture can be matched to words like 'sleek' and 'urban'.

But to little ol' me, it really is just a gigantic fancy fly swatter.


And now, this is the type of office chair that will make me look forward to heading to work any day. In fact, it might just yield even-better quality work from me.

Yes of course I realise that this classic-hollywood-ish piece doesn't look terribly comfy, but it's nothing that a nice white furry cushion and a curled-up sitting position won't solve.

And the bottomline is this: I probably wouldn't pay $300 for the gigantic fancy fly swatter (unless it really is that heavenly on the butt and back), but I would glady shell out $3,000 for this lovely old-world powerseat (which will probably make me a prime target of Deep Vein Thrombosis).

So there you have it - I am the epitome of those funny form-over-function people.

But only as far as non-living things-which-don't-count-as-a-huge-investment-like-houses are concerned. When it comes to the more financially serious stuff or humans, my good judgement will not be impaired by aesthetics.

Seldom, anyway.
.
.
.
.
.

Dawn's Fantasy Professional Persona


Oooh La La!!!

Thursday, July 19, 2007

A little sunshine in a dark, dark world


I realise the title is a tad misleading.

To clear it up a bit, this blog entry is not about me suddenly chancing upon a glimmer of hope in Gloomyville.

Hell no, I am by default a happy lark these days.

You'd be justified in thinking that I might be a little down in the dump though, for my wobbly world is indeed in a glorious state of disarray. One that comes complete with irregular income (read: I've turned freelance for now), irregular hours (freelance doesn't mean I get to be freed from l-o-n-g working hours, albeit I'm based at home), and of course, the occasional emotional roller-coaster rides on a regular basis.

But surprise, surprise, I am feeling faaabulous, darrrling! Well, at least, I do feel that way most of the time - you'd have to excuse those
only-human downtime once in a while. I would blind you with a set of Hollywood-worthy pearly whites if I could, just to prove my point, but my dentist is holding them ransom till I hand over a minor fortune good enough for me to adopt a few World Vision children till well past my life expectancy.

So now, having set the facts straight on what this blog entry is not about, it's time to get the real topic going before you exit this site in frustrations, cursing and swearing that I am a lousy writer who didn't grasp the concept of economy of words nor the art of holding her readers' interest. Even more ghastly, one who's afflicted with a bad case of incoherence. That would be terrible. But there might just be some truth to it. Oh gawd.

Before this gets any worse, here's the topic of the day...*drumroll*...
Black Comedy.

I love black comedy. There is just so much beauty in the way these films are treated, where serious and disturbing subjects the likes of death, murder and sickness are played out in a humorous and satirical manner.

Normally, humour and satire would look out of place in such scenarios. Yet, they are like what a few squeezes of the lime is to Fried Hokkien Prawn Mee - they infuse a certain piquance to the films' heavy flavours.

At the same time, given the right plot/directing/acting, they tend to lend a heightened sense of poignancy to the characters' plights. In fact, the drama factor is usually a few notches higher than if the same subjects had been done in a typical high-octane way.

Most black comedy films I caught so far kicked off innocently with scenes where good cheer and a general sense of happiness seem to prevail. Then things began to go dangerously wrong, while the soundtrack maintained a determinedly light and pleasant note.

Like this particular music that's currently playing as you read this blog entry (play it now if you already turned it off...tsk tsk).

It's seems like any other easy-listening number at the beginning until the notes start to veer off-tangent and the mood shifts to something that's much darker and a little more dangerous.

This number, "Fairy Tales" by Great Uncles of the Revolution, would be perfect for one of the final few scenes of a black comedy where a femme fatale managed to get away with murder, literally.

In my warped imagination, at the start of the music, we see a femme fatale greeting her guests in a house in a cheery, animated fashion, with no tell-tale signs of what's to come. As the music continues, she's seen to be happily going about putting into action her intentions to kill, in an efficient manner.

The murder-in-progress scene then gently fades off to a scene of a nice open-air marketplace like those in European countries. A pair of shapely gams strolls past the various quaint little stalls, with the hem of a sundress swaying gently along to the movements. The owner of those gams stops to admire some roses. The camera moves in front of her and we see the murderous femme fatale taking a deep whiff of the blooms, a wide, innocent smile on her face. The film then signs off with a scene of the horrific mess of the murder site, with cops milling around collecting evidence, snapping pictures.

Obviously, these final few scenes should ideally incorporate an unexpected twist. But then I would need to work in a few more characters in order to do that, and I can't do that when there's not a story to begin with anyway. Ha.

Oh...and just so you know, in case you are in desperate need of some reassurances after reading this blog entry, I am perfectly sane and perfectly non-murderous. I don't even have a habit of entertaining frivolous murderous thoughts - ok, perhaps only when clients really, really, really rile me up.

But 'fess up, you are probably as guilty of that as I am.


P.S. Check out "He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not" here, starring the lovely Audrey Tautou.


Monday, July 09, 2007

A crash course in cooking...and life in general


I have been studiously picking up a trick or two from my mum on the fine art of putting food on the table over the past few months.

And though I am not capable of whipping up a feast fit for kings yet, I can now proudly declare that I can put together a wholesome, edible and likely-to-be palatable meal that will not require the diner to make a dash for the emergency room and go home (gleefully) with a 1-week medical leave.

Now, my still-slightly-questionable-but-gradually-improving cooking skills aside, I realise that life is like a session in front of the stove and wok.

I hate to go all Forrest Gump here, but sorry folks, that's the truth.

You see, when it comes to cooking, getting the raw materials for the dish is easy. Getting the array of seasonings required is easy. And getting a rough estimate of the cooking time is easy too - just refer to the recipe or the mums/mum-in-laws etc of the world.

The tough part is everything else that follows once the cooking begins and you are left on your own.

Different woks react differently to heat, and the cooking time can differ vastly. And heat control is another intellectual-meets-intuition topic altogether. And of course there's the amount of each seasoning to use, which may not always be in direct proportion to the amount of raw materials you have. That is, it is not always a simple mathematical question of 1 teaspoons of soy sauce for 1 chicken breast and therefore 2 teaspoons for 2 chicken breasts...after all, it is a matter of personal taste.

Life's just the same, isn't it?

It is not that tough to set a goal and know what you have to do to get what you want.

The difficulties instead lie in figuring out just when to exactly to start, when to stop, when to go all out, when to hold back, when to stick to the rules and when to improvise...and the list continues.

So now you know...if you would like to rule the world someday, it's time you worked those woks.





Friday, July 06, 2007

Happiness is the simple things


Happiness is...getting under the duvet before 12am, freshly showered, with nothing on my mind except thoughts of a good breakfast the next morning.

Happiness is...waking up naturally without the aid of a shrill alarm, with a contented smile on my face, and a sense of well-being radiating from every pore, matched by an upbeat soundtrack in my head (unlikely as it sounds, it happened before - more than once, in fact).

Happiness is...coming home to my favourite homecooked dishes by my favourite person in the whole wide world...
mommmmmmmmmy!!!

Happiness is...those anticipation-charged moments before the sounds from a new CD come through from the player.

Happiness is...accepting that it is fine to fall flat on my face once in a while. In fact, it is fine too if I wanna lie there and whine for a while - because I will always jump right back on my feet once I have had enough.

Happiness is...when Marian Keyes, Adele Parks, Louise Bagshawe, Plum Sykes, Sophie Kinsella and Candace Bushnell come up with new novels.

Happiness is...looking out of the window in my room in the early evening, when the sun casts its orange glow on the trees, and birds chirp cheerily as they return to their nests.

Happiness is...every latest issue of my fave mags.

Happiness is...receiving a "idle-chatter" kinda call or SMS from a good friend on a boring afternoon.

Happiness is...being really really really silly with my really really really silly but-oh-so-lovely puggies.

Happiness is...seeing how pissed off Ron the Pug can get when we stoically refuse to acknowledge his endless whines for snacks, snacks and more snacks.

Happiness is...finally learning that it is ok to not conform to all the norms out there.

Happiness is...hearing my mommmmmmy's glass-shattering singing drifting in from the kitchen (her unofficial office) into my room (my unofficial office).

Happiness is...munching on Calbee's Hot & Spicy Potato Chips.

Happiness is...the occasional realisation that I have the power to change my life, even if I sometimes feel powerless.

Happiness is...International buffets, Churrascaria restaurants and Chinese eating houses with dumplings and beer on their menus.

Happiness is...having homemade breakfast with my mum at West Coast Park.

Happiness is...downing a mug of beer on a warm afternoon.

Happiness is...dressing down and hanging out with dear friends over a little alcohol and loads of nonsensical chatter.

Happiness is...having made stupid mistakes earlier in my life, so I wouldn't make the same ones in future - hopefully.

Happiness is...the look, the feel and the scent of my freshly-cleaned boudoir.

Happiness is...Bak Chou Mee (with loads of lard and vinegar), Fried Hokkien Prawn Mee (with loads of lard and chilli), Chicken Rice (with breast meats and loads of chilli) and Fried Oysters (with loads of oysters and chilli).

Happiness is...loads of fresh salmon slices with loads of wasabi and loads of soy sauce.

Happiness is...large servings of kimchi, kimchi hot pot rice, kimchi pancakes, Korean BBQ beef, and a large pot of Korean specially mixed "50-year-old wine"...complemented by cigarettes.

Happiness is...Choco & Coffee biscuits by Bourbon.

Happiness is...going all out to do a great job when it seems humanly impossible and getting it right in the end.

Happiness is...waking up at 7.30am, jogging at 8.00am, and having a sinfully indulgent breakfast at 9.00am.

Happiness is...toasts with garlic spread or toasts with
butter and jam

Happiness is...the joy of knowing that there are always family and friends who love me - people I can count on.

Happiness is...having worthy people in my life - people worth caring for, people worth worrying about.

Happiness is...a tub of Ben & Jerry Strawberry Cheesecake
Ice Cream.


Happiness is knowing that it really isn't that tough to be happy.