The Lost Art of Writing

After a long day of work, I like to unwind with a cold beer. With every sip, I can feel the elixir flow down my throat and replenish my energy. Ahh...whoever made beer is my God.

My ambrosia.

Today, I was heading out to the gym when I came across a letter addressed to me. I've never gotten letters, only bills under my name. As I was late and on the phone, I grabbed it and drove off to the gym. A couple of hours later I came back into my car and looked at the letter. It was still addressed to me. I know who wrote it but I can't seem to get over the fact that people write letters still. With our technological savvy-ness, who would have thought that people still write?

That got me thinking, when was the last time I wrote a letter. It was in Grade 4 and it was to my pen-pal...from...I can't even remember. To think about it even more, I have never really written a post-card and mailed it.

Writing on the walls.

I love writing, but to actually sit down and write to someone personally, I don't think I can do that. I'm able to spill my guts and emotions out on this blog but I don't really think about my readers. I usually just write because I can and I want to. Not for people to read, but for my own personal development.

It's about time; I should write and mail something off.

Or maybe I'm just scared someone would read my chicken feet handwriting and laugh.

Ha ha.

An Atrocious Little Play On Love

I went for a play yesterday called A Crazy Little Thing Called Love produced, created and directed by Colin Kirton. As there were good reviews for this play, my friend and I thought it would be interesting to see what sort of concepts and direction they would take.

Throughout the first act, I was appalled. It was not the bad acting, but I was disgusted by how they were trying to dictate what family values are; heterosexual hierarchic Western ideologies on what families should be. You have the infamous skit called Lost In Transmission, where you get an insight into how "Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus". What a load of crock. First of all, it stereotypes how women are emotional and are in need of constant attention whereas men are emotionally stagnant in relationships and need to be constantly reminded that they are in a relationship.

Then you have the whiny couple, who got married; the husband being the provider and the woman being the naggy emotional baggage that everyone seems to hate carrying. Repeating the lines "You've changed" about ten million times is excruciatingly painful for the ears and to watch the dramatic skit unfold itself is painstaking for the eyes. It was extremely cheesy and if I could, I would puke and shit at the same time on how bad it was.

Bad actors! Shame on you. You ought to be spanked.

Oh no. It doesn't stop there. If you think the first act was bad, I stayed till the end of the second act. It got worse from there.

You have a reworked blog entry by a guy from Singapore who's father had cancer. They reworked the entry (I hope they got permission) and called it I Am My Father's Son. It was a futile monologue that did not engage with the audience at all. On top of that I was so angry that they reworked someone else's work and put a storyline into it. YOU DO NOT DO THAT. That is just plagiarism and bad script-writing. Plus the creator pumped in words that were loaded with sympathetic connotations in order to captivate the audience. It sucked. Trust me, it really sucked.

Last but not least, you would think that there would be at least a little bit of artistic direction into this play, but no. There was not. They over-utilized the Hollywood feel-good movie blockbusters and had other stuff like the 30 year old woman who wanted her father's love and the girl who was angry at her mother for leaving the father and had cheese-filled lines like "I forgive you Mommy", just think of Britney Spears in Crossroads and you would get the idea.

This is the cherry on top of the icing, they used the phrase "I Love You" over 50 times. If I had learned anything from Writing 101 it was to Show and Not Tell. Now that is just bad writing and rude to deep-throat an audience for 110 minutes with "I Love You"s.

Since today is the last day of the play, I can't exactly advise anyone not to go anymore, but I would advise no one to go to another play directed, created OR produced by Colin Kirton.

No more abuse please Mr Kirton. My mind can not fathom how you created such atrocities.

Sick & Tired

I realized I haven't been updating my blog. That's because I haven't exactly gotten the free time to be able to write. I miss having the days when I pour my heart and soul into my writing. Now it just seems like a chore.

I'm currently down with a bad cold and cough. My body's still trying to adjust to the early mornings and constant contact with sick refugees and asylum seekers. For the past 2 to 3 weeks, I've gotten an eye infection, a severe case of food poisoning (thanks to Original Kayu at Aman Suria and their Paper Tosik) and fever and now this. Gar. I hate being sick.

In the mean time, I've been trying to brush up my photography and Photoshop skills. Check this out.

Work just never seems to end....

Thanks to Lean Kee for taking the photo.

I also took quite a few photos at the Transsexual Beauty Pageant organized by Pink Triangle Foundation held at Flamingo Hotel.

The photos can be seen here.

I'm loving Miss USA. She's my visual orgasm.

Anyway, I've been uploading quite a bit on my Facebook account. I think I should stop for now and concentrate on more serious stuff.

But what?