Underestimated

I recently discovered who is the singer of a song I like very much. I have heard the song a number of times over the year but it's been a hectic year and my taste in music is such that I focus on a genre of music rather completely when it suits me at that moment, then move on to the next. It is sort of like what's in fashion, not on the catwalk or on the airwaves, but in the Land of Flowerweed.

Well, recently I have gotten bored of some types of music that have become rather flat to me and started discarding them and finding out what some of my friends were listening to. I heard again the song that I vaguely admired previously. It has very good vocals and little background music. The melody was melancholic and sweet... Then I discovered who the singer is!

It is actually Rainie Yeung, a Taiwanese singer, actress and TV host. I have apparently underestimated her. I know her because she played a small part in a popular TV series some years ago. The song was from her first solo album (since leaving a pop girl group) released late last year. Very apparently, she's doing very well for herself. There I was thinking she was just a pretty face. No, no... I did not say I thought she was a bimbo relying on her looks (did I think it?). It's just that the entertainment industry churns out so many bands and solo artistes, you don't really know who to take seriously.

Anyway, if you're curious why a song can change my estimation of her, the video can be found here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dd-6j-dt02E
The lyrics, I must say, plays on your heart (if you understand them) and the song is a solid piece of work (but, no, she did not write it).

That's only my second favourite song from that album. I realised there is another that I much prefer, and it's happier too. I think Rainie Yeung injects the right kind of emotions into the songs I have heard from her. I tend to pay more attention to emotions before singing technique, melody and lyrics, although one bad aspect can ruin the whole listening experience for me.

Well, what a find. I guess I'll give celebrities a few more tries before I shrug them of as another product on the entertainment conveyer belt in the future.

The King And I

Today is the Muslim festival of Eid-ul-Fitr. Only a few days ago it was the Hindu festival of Deepavali. I called my dear friend in Kolkata and wished her "Happy Deepavali" on Saturday but the line was cut off while we were in conversation and her mobile was off when I redialled.

Since the weekend, we were determined to join in official Eid-ul-Fitr celebrations since we have not done it before. After a late breakfast, my family and I drove to the Palace. It is not far from my place and I often see many tourists and tourist buses at the main entrance. All one can see normally are some of the foot soldiers, cavalry, and the nice gate. No access is allowed and the buildings are up a hill, hidden by trees and other plants so I don’t actually know what the tourists are so excited about. The horses, I suppose, get their photos taken a lot and have to put up with much patting.

We arrived near the Palace about half an hour after the official start of the Open House. We parked about 10mins walking distance away (didn’t know that the traffic police would later make more places available for parking closer to the main entrance). It was fun to join in the excitement. We saw some people being turned away, including foreign backpackers, for inappropriate attire. I wonder at people sometimes. Don’t they realise that they are going to a royal residence rather than the beach?

Well, anyway, after some waiting we all shook hands with the King, Queen, Prince and Princess who were there to welcome all visitors and I heard the King repeat, “Thank you for coming” to the people while the rest smiled. I noticed the Princess’ make-up was melting in the heat, but her coiffure was still intact, probably due to much hair spray. I wanted to snap a photo of the King after I passed but one of the guards on duty politely asked me not to. So, most people pretended to take photos of each other with the Royals in the background (I imagine most of our photos of them would not turn out well since they were in the shadow of the porch). Anyway, we got the goodies and had a view of the front garden. I can now say I have visited the King’s official residence. I have met the King and shaken hands with him and his family!

Later in the day, we went to the Prime Minister’s Open House. This was not at his residence but the World Trade Centre. The Prime Minister and some other ministers with their spouses were there to shake hands and welcome visitors. The Education Minister's wife smiled very prettily at me and I thought she could feature in some shampoo advertisement. She is tall and lovely with nice locks.

We went much later than the rest so most of the crowd had left. Unfortunately, the much-coveted delicacies were gone too. I do not mean there was little food left. Far from it! We arrived two hours before the closing and there was still plenty of food. I expect there would have been a lot of leftovers. However, certain types of gourmet cuisine, including the ones the PM got his own chef to prepare, were nowhere to be seen when I was getting my food from the big hall with over ten long rows of tables filled with food.
After getting the food, we proceeded to another big hall filled with round tables for us to eat. We sat with two Malay Muslim ladies and a small boy. They were very friendly and talkative. Apparently, they have been to various Open Houses before in the past, and were also at the Palace earlier. We shared experiences. The younger lady, who was probably in her twenties, could not hold back her curiosity and asked my father, “Excuse me, but are you an actor?” She said that he looked very much like an actor in a drama series. She really thought it was he and even asked again later in the conversation to reconfirm the negative. I wonder if she is a fan of that actor. My father is the same age as Pierce Brosnan, though not in the same league, of course. When I think about how MANY female admirers Pierce Brosnan (or Sean Connery!) still have, it is really possible.

The young lady was really curious about us and asked me, “How old are you? 17?” I did not roll my eyes because I am getting used to this. Perhaps I would really appreciate it when I am much older. They were taken aback by my real age, then looked to my parents and asked for their individual ages as well. I was thinking that this wass rather direct for a first time encounter. They were astonished and said they thought my parents were a least 10 years younger than they were. The young lady (bless her funny and direct talkative tendency) remarked that perhaps if my parents had more children, they would look older. I tried picturing people my parents’ age who have many children. Do they really look older? Maybe it is just genetics?

Incident

Yesterday, my colleague left the office in tears after receiving a phone call telling her that her father was diagnosed with liver cancer and was to be transferred to another hospital from he one he was in for more suitable facilities. I felt for her because I remember when my father was admitted to hospital due to the fact that doctors weren't sure what was wrong with him. He was feeling fatigued and sickly, and was losing weight rather fast due to poor appetite. It was a good thing that the doctors diagnosed quickly after he was admitted to stamp out doubts. Still, it was frightening not knowing. I was feeling lost and contemplated life without being able to see my father again. Not just for a month, a year or a decade... Never. Not even able to get him on the phone or receive an SMS from him. I was grateful that I had someone to comfort me and make me think sensibly until a less alarming diagnosis was made by the doctors.

In my collegue's case, I hope things will be fine for her. Well, it cannot be fine. The doctors have identified the tumour and all, but she looks fine today. I would not have guessed had I not seen her shutting down her computer in haste and packing up to leave before really breaking down. Tough as nails. That's a good sign. Many more trials yet to come if the diagnosis is 100% correct... and there's really no use crying all the time.

I'll devote my prayers for her family, my family and those of everyone elses.

Dream Story

Do you believe in the other world? I mean, other than the living. I know some people thrive on these kind of stories or superstition. My stand on it: I do not disbelieve it. That's as far as I'd go to discuss it. Believe what you will, be it ghosts, aliens, fairies, werewolves, angels, vampires, etc. (I am censoring myself from saying the "G" word before there is any heated debate due to misinterpretation).

The reason I brought that up is because my mother told me of a dream she had some time ago (probably nearly two months now), that was really too eerie for her to discuss at that time just because it seemed too real and recent. We were watching television and the trailers of some horror movies reminded her of her dream. I thought it would make a rather good scene as part of in some movie or story. But here, I shall retell it as I was told without dramatising it.

Here it goes:

My mother, my father and I were eating out somewhere. Seated not too far from us was someone. We somehow knew that he was not "one of us" or human. My father suspected he may be following us and asked us to leave to go to the car. We picked up our baggage (probably we were en route somewhere) and started walking. He also did the same.

We walked towards our car which was in a multi-storey parking area and noticed that he was following behind at a distance. My father muttered, "Is he really following us?". He then instructed us to stop and pretend to be fussing with something instead of walking towards our car. That way, we'd allow him to go pass us rather than follow us all the way to our car. We, of course, hoped that we were just coincidentally in the way and wanted him to pass us by.

We all stopped and I wanted to look around at him but my parents kept asking me not to. We just stood, quite still and became almost rigid with fright as he came nearer... to the extent of almost going limp with fear. All of us felt chilling coldness in our bodies. All this while, and even as he approached, we could not discern his face. My mother could tell, out of the corner of her eyes, approximately what he was wearing.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, someone's arm went out to grab him to pull him back and we heard, "That's not where you should be going" before he was pulled away. Another one appeared maybe?

Just before being lead away, he turned around and had another look at us before going. My father gasped, "He really wanted to follow us." After that, all of us went limp and almost collapsed with fright and relief. Our legs were like jelly.

This was where my mother woke up and the story ended.

She was actually a bit scared of approaching the car that featured in her dream at night for a while, especially when it was about the time of the Ghost Festival.