Wednesday, December 31, 2003
Reflections of 2003
THe year draws to an end. A terrible year I would say. THe trip to penang was dreary and depressing. Relatives clamouring for cash, trying in vain to wrench themselves out of the debt accumulated from the downward spiral of the economy. News of the passing of a family friend came. I just went to the hospital to visit another family fren recuperating from stones in her gall bladder. Such evil tidings, all rolled into the year 2003. War in iraq, the devastation of SARS, the economic downturn.... With much anticipation i welcome the year 2004, in hopes of better times for all of us.
THe year draws to an end. A terrible year I would say. THe trip to penang was dreary and depressing. Relatives clamouring for cash, trying in vain to wrench themselves out of the debt accumulated from the downward spiral of the economy. News of the passing of a family friend came. I just went to the hospital to visit another family fren recuperating from stones in her gall bladder. Such evil tidings, all rolled into the year 2003. War in iraq, the devastation of SARS, the economic downturn.... With much anticipation i welcome the year 2004, in hopes of better times for all of us.
Saturday, December 20, 2003
Kia Ora
I just got back from NZ equipped with sunkissed skin and excess baggage. Translated , it means I came back with a tan which rendered me a panda bear like appearance ( no thanx to my specs) and an extra layer of blubber on my hopelessly non-existant waist. Wanna see pix of our journey, just click on "photos" under " NZ1 and NZ2"
Day One
We were greeted in Auckland by a merciless downpour which drenched us thoroughly as we raced to our rented vehicle. I dozed all the way to the city, the result of having engaged in an inflight movie marathon. THe first thing that struck me about Auckland was how steeply inclined the streets were. If one wished to excercise, all you had to do was to go shopping. Didn't do much today, just went up the sky tower to stone at the view which was swathed in lots and lots of long white clouds.
Day 2
Started driving to the town of Rotoroa. Dad still refuses to let me practise driving. Pretty long ride. about 3 hours of bumping up and down in the car and watching endless blobs of wool runnin garound the sprawling fields. Perhaps it was the endless supply of sheep that I could count, I fell and stayed in a near comatose state till we reached rotoroa. THe horrible pong awoke me.
I was forced to plan the whole trip so i was incredibly stressed out that everything didn't run smoothly. Heck,i'm a super control freak by nature. Unfortunately, the first hiccup occured today, the motel I chose was AWFUL. It was seriously the worse, an old crumbling building with narry a toilet roll in the toilet and bed bugs which prowled my skin in the night.
Rotoroa was a queer town. It was perched on top a thermally active area. hence most of the houses had natural hot springs in their back yard. The foul smelling column of smoke was omnipresent. The other drawback, aside from the permeating smell of sulphur, was the the fact that the ground was extremely unstable. We found a park, which had been converted into a thermal zone when one fine day, the residents awoke to an eruption of hot mud and steam. Geez... wouldn't be pleasant if I was walking in my own house and the ground suddenly caved in on me.
We headed for Wharekewareka ( i think it's spelt like this), a thermal park near rotoroa. My parents happily passed me off as 14 year old to get a family package. Basically, it was a desolate park with many a crater in the ground which emitted a relentless stream of billowing steam. There was this geyser which shot a freaky 50 m high or smth called the pohutu geyser. Lotsa old Chinese tourist had plopped themselves on the hot rocks just a stone's throw away and were taking in the view when the geyser erupted, drenching everyone ( including my family) with a cooling spray. Never before have I witness an aged crowd move so rapidly. There was also this bubbling mud pool, which entertained us not only with exploding mud swirls but also with the much anticipated.. " PLOP! KER PLOP!" Our guide told us that the mud had therapeutic qualities..
" I"m actually 75 years old," he deadpanned. " A swipe a day, keeps the wrinkles away."
yeah, right. Then i'm the cryptkeeper.
But i discovered later that the mud was indeed bottled and sold at various souvenior shops. I dragged my family halfway round the park to look at a giant Lok Lok. Apparently they still used it to cook the traditional maori food. Incredible. but the pong of sulphur from the water held me back from dipping a satay stick in the water. We witnessed how the maori skirts of grass were made by our guide. Try as he might though, he couldn't withhold a well placed grimace as he rolled the leaves on his hairy thigh to get a long twisted strand. Sure beats waxing, he told us.
We went back after that to crash at the lousy motel. SPent a whole night at war with bed bugs. URGH.
DAy 3.
We woke up nice and early to go to the rainbow farm. Oh alright. We woke up groaning and sulking and were tossed into the car to go to the rainbow farm. There we caught a sheep shearing show. I utterly fell in love with the sheepdogs. We got to see the sheep getting their bi annual haircut, sheep herding ( not very successful ones tho') . Jo got called upon to ride a bull ala cameron diaz in Charlie's angels. And we fed the lambs. Oh .. mine. After they finish their milk they go for your pants. Sheesh.
I also fell head over heels over the adorable ILLAMA> ohhhhhhhhh.. willow... miss her so much. Daniel took much pleasure in chasing terrifed chickens round the farm.
Then we headed for rainbow springs, a natural spring with wildlife. And we saw, Trout.. trout and MORE TROUT. plus a handful of bird and the elusive KIWI.. it's pretty big yah know. Almost like a chicken. Too bad we weren't allowed to take photos coz it was a nocturnal animal and bright light / flashes frightened it.
And then.. OH YEAH. the fun part.
We rode the luge... it was fashioned like a go kart, minus the peddles.. and you hurtled down the steep hill side at neck breaking speeds of up to 150km/hr. We had to get up to the station via cable car or ski lift and it was a long 5 minute ride down to the bottom. Thrilling, but i wondered how people managed from hurtling out of the tracks and taking the short, uneventful way to the bottom of the hill.
Then we went horse riding. NOw, you might think, that is a romantic notion. HOrse riding through the idyllic green pastures and hills. Well, it might have been a romantic notion if not for the rain. My father scoffed when we suggested dorning the provided rain gear.
" the rain in NZ is rarely heavy," he said, wrinkling his nose at the foul, filthy rain coats available for loan. But when they brought the horses to us, the sky opened up , emptying what seemed like a week's worth of rain. And the downpour refused to abate even as we were hoisted up our saddles. I didn't even ask for my horses name. My father's horse reared up, nearly throwing him off. We were wet and miserable... horses included. My horse refused to obey my commands. I kicked it hesitantly, and it just hrrrrmph and continued stoning in the rain. my sister's horse kept wandering off course and my mom's horse kept eating the grass and ignoring the group. After half an hour of climbing up the terrifyingly steep hills ( and trying valiantly to make my lazy horse go faster), we finally arrived back at the farm. My mom was so freaked out she kept shrieking, and my sister was somewhere out there, her horse still feasting on the green grass. The guide brought her back five mintues later.
We hurried back, drenched to the bone, and changed our clothes to attend the maori cultural show. Well, it was held in a tiny hotel function room. But the performance made up for the dire surroundings. I loved the songs, so well brought out by rich voices. The boys even managed to put together a Haka or war dance. Too bad the audience looked more goofy than fierce when they stuck out their tongue.
Day 4.
We set out for Lake taupo. On the way I urged my family to drop by the Wai-o-tapu thermal park. We waited in the hot sun for the lady knox geyser, which apparently erupted at 10.15 am every day. OH my foot. The guide threw some soap in and hey presto, a geyser. Nah, the geysewr was natural, but the eruption could be induced by throwing soap in. hahaha.. my family refused to let me off the hook for dragging them out of bed so early to see the stupid geyser. But the park was gorgeous. There was this shallow spring, which had a floor bathed in lovely hues, coloured by the mineral deposition. We found another gigantic lok lok.. this time 10 times the size of the previous one. It was called the champagne pool and it emitted cloud after cloud of choking hot steam. There was also the devil's ink pot, an inky black crater which took the shape of the map of britain. and there was sickly green pool called the devil's bath. All in all, i found it more interesting than the previous thermal park.
We spent the rest of the day driving around trying to find a motel and we found a room for a real bargain price. It over looked the lake and we were treated to a gorgeous sunset ( see photos) .
The rest of the afternoon, we went to view the Huka Falls and the Huka rapids.
Day 5.
Lake taupo.. a crater lake formed after an eruption that dwarfed the catastrophic mountst. helen eruption. THe lake was apparently large enough to contain Singapore.. as so many inhabitants kept telling me. We headed for the volcano science center, the bee farm and had lunch at the prawn farm ( the first to harness geo thermal activity to farm the shrimps)
After lunch, we hired a guide and canoes and canoed down the Waikato river... We had to drag mom along ( she was still relieving her moments on the horse). My dad kept suggesting we go bungee.. With parents like that, you had an excuse to do or not do anything.
OUr guide was called Tam. I volunteered to take the single canoe.. It was Dad with Dan, Mom with Jo. 15 minutes after push off, I found myself alone with Tam on the river.. Mom and Jo had canoed right into a bunch of plants and my dad was trying to extract them. Tam warned us not to go near the willows and the brambles at the side or we would get trapped. I struggled to summon distant memories from my OBS canoeing expedition. But i was swept by the current right into a pile of willows. Tam was yelling something about paddling like shit while trying to help my mom and sis. Thankfully dad got me out of the fix before I was stuck in the willows growing on the bend of the meander. The current swept us along the cool, clear waters of the river. It was soooooo peaceful. We passed the bungee site and witness to people taking the leap of faith. My goodness... I was almost tempted to do it myself, but then again, the cliffs next to the bungee got me thinking otherwise.
We beached up at the hot water springs for a rest and Tam supplied us with some snacks. The spring was awfully crowded and i didn't feel like mingling with the crowd so we didn't take the plunge. We did, however, bath our feet in the hot spring ( much to the irritation of the bathers) .
Then we continued, Tam guided us to the various branches of the river. " You can't miss the beach up point, otherwise the huka falls ain't that far away" She yelled as she pointed to the place we would end out journey. I had exchanged my single for a double with my mom because she and my sister had an unfortunately attraction to bramble bushes.
After beaching safely, I caught sight of an unlikely procession waddling past our canoes. A mother duck and her ducklings had come to explore our canoes and our legs. Tam warned us not to touch the ducklings as their mother would reject her children if they bore the scent of man. We observed the inquisitive little ducklings with amusement.
Day 6, we headed for the waitomo caves... On the way we stopped by a rabbit shearing farm. The angora rabbits resembled big, balls of fur with a pair of ears. Adorable nontheless.
It was a long, perilious drive through winding hills. The glowworms were indeed a sight to behold. It was like entering another world. The tourist sank into an awed silence as our boat glided beneath the glow worms. I felt like belting out the Xmas song.. glow littl'e glowworm glow... apparently the acoustics in teh cave were one of the best in the world, and opera singers had actually sung there before.
We drove all the way back to Auckland.
DAy 7
We set out for the underwater world and artic world to see the cute king penguins waddling around. And oOMG.. 3m long stingrays.. bbq stingray anyone? I'm sure aia would love to see the stingray :) . I also petted this eels.. ewwwwww slimy.
We then visited two extinct volcanoes in the heart of auckland.. one tree hill and mt eden. The craters were ...awesome and so was the wind, which gave us all a bad hair day.
Day 8.
We took a drive to the hot water beach. I tot it would take 40 minutes tops but it turned into a terrible 4 hour drive to the coast.. we had to wind around endless mountain roads.. urgh. But the view was gorgeous. To our disappoitment low tide was at 8pm. and we didn't get to dig our own spa in the sand. but we got to feel the hot sand from a hole some determined tourist had dug. cool.. a hot spring actually flowed towards the sea, hence giving the beach it's unique quality.
Day 9..
We jetted of back to singapore..
I just got back from NZ equipped with sunkissed skin and excess baggage. Translated , it means I came back with a tan which rendered me a panda bear like appearance ( no thanx to my specs) and an extra layer of blubber on my hopelessly non-existant waist. Wanna see pix of our journey, just click on "photos" under " NZ1 and NZ2"
Day One
We were greeted in Auckland by a merciless downpour which drenched us thoroughly as we raced to our rented vehicle. I dozed all the way to the city, the result of having engaged in an inflight movie marathon. THe first thing that struck me about Auckland was how steeply inclined the streets were. If one wished to excercise, all you had to do was to go shopping. Didn't do much today, just went up the sky tower to stone at the view which was swathed in lots and lots of long white clouds.
Day 2
Started driving to the town of Rotoroa. Dad still refuses to let me practise driving. Pretty long ride. about 3 hours of bumping up and down in the car and watching endless blobs of wool runnin garound the sprawling fields. Perhaps it was the endless supply of sheep that I could count, I fell and stayed in a near comatose state till we reached rotoroa. THe horrible pong awoke me.
I was forced to plan the whole trip so i was incredibly stressed out that everything didn't run smoothly. Heck,i'm a super control freak by nature. Unfortunately, the first hiccup occured today, the motel I chose was AWFUL. It was seriously the worse, an old crumbling building with narry a toilet roll in the toilet and bed bugs which prowled my skin in the night.
Rotoroa was a queer town. It was perched on top a thermally active area. hence most of the houses had natural hot springs in their back yard. The foul smelling column of smoke was omnipresent. The other drawback, aside from the permeating smell of sulphur, was the the fact that the ground was extremely unstable. We found a park, which had been converted into a thermal zone when one fine day, the residents awoke to an eruption of hot mud and steam. Geez... wouldn't be pleasant if I was walking in my own house and the ground suddenly caved in on me.
We headed for Wharekewareka ( i think it's spelt like this), a thermal park near rotoroa. My parents happily passed me off as 14 year old to get a family package. Basically, it was a desolate park with many a crater in the ground which emitted a relentless stream of billowing steam. There was this geyser which shot a freaky 50 m high or smth called the pohutu geyser. Lotsa old Chinese tourist had plopped themselves on the hot rocks just a stone's throw away and were taking in the view when the geyser erupted, drenching everyone ( including my family) with a cooling spray. Never before have I witness an aged crowd move so rapidly. There was also this bubbling mud pool, which entertained us not only with exploding mud swirls but also with the much anticipated.. " PLOP! KER PLOP!" Our guide told us that the mud had therapeutic qualities..
" I"m actually 75 years old," he deadpanned. " A swipe a day, keeps the wrinkles away."
yeah, right. Then i'm the cryptkeeper.
But i discovered later that the mud was indeed bottled and sold at various souvenior shops. I dragged my family halfway round the park to look at a giant Lok Lok. Apparently they still used it to cook the traditional maori food. Incredible. but the pong of sulphur from the water held me back from dipping a satay stick in the water. We witnessed how the maori skirts of grass were made by our guide. Try as he might though, he couldn't withhold a well placed grimace as he rolled the leaves on his hairy thigh to get a long twisted strand. Sure beats waxing, he told us.
We went back after that to crash at the lousy motel. SPent a whole night at war with bed bugs. URGH.
DAy 3.
We woke up nice and early to go to the rainbow farm. Oh alright. We woke up groaning and sulking and were tossed into the car to go to the rainbow farm. There we caught a sheep shearing show. I utterly fell in love with the sheepdogs. We got to see the sheep getting their bi annual haircut, sheep herding ( not very successful ones tho') . Jo got called upon to ride a bull ala cameron diaz in Charlie's angels. And we fed the lambs. Oh .. mine. After they finish their milk they go for your pants. Sheesh.
I also fell head over heels over the adorable ILLAMA> ohhhhhhhhh.. willow... miss her so much. Daniel took much pleasure in chasing terrifed chickens round the farm.
Then we headed for rainbow springs, a natural spring with wildlife. And we saw, Trout.. trout and MORE TROUT. plus a handful of bird and the elusive KIWI.. it's pretty big yah know. Almost like a chicken. Too bad we weren't allowed to take photos coz it was a nocturnal animal and bright light / flashes frightened it.
And then.. OH YEAH. the fun part.
We rode the luge... it was fashioned like a go kart, minus the peddles.. and you hurtled down the steep hill side at neck breaking speeds of up to 150km/hr. We had to get up to the station via cable car or ski lift and it was a long 5 minute ride down to the bottom. Thrilling, but i wondered how people managed from hurtling out of the tracks and taking the short, uneventful way to the bottom of the hill.
Then we went horse riding. NOw, you might think, that is a romantic notion. HOrse riding through the idyllic green pastures and hills. Well, it might have been a romantic notion if not for the rain. My father scoffed when we suggested dorning the provided rain gear.
" the rain in NZ is rarely heavy," he said, wrinkling his nose at the foul, filthy rain coats available for loan. But when they brought the horses to us, the sky opened up , emptying what seemed like a week's worth of rain. And the downpour refused to abate even as we were hoisted up our saddles. I didn't even ask for my horses name. My father's horse reared up, nearly throwing him off. We were wet and miserable... horses included. My horse refused to obey my commands. I kicked it hesitantly, and it just hrrrrmph and continued stoning in the rain. my sister's horse kept wandering off course and my mom's horse kept eating the grass and ignoring the group. After half an hour of climbing up the terrifyingly steep hills ( and trying valiantly to make my lazy horse go faster), we finally arrived back at the farm. My mom was so freaked out she kept shrieking, and my sister was somewhere out there, her horse still feasting on the green grass. The guide brought her back five mintues later.
We hurried back, drenched to the bone, and changed our clothes to attend the maori cultural show. Well, it was held in a tiny hotel function room. But the performance made up for the dire surroundings. I loved the songs, so well brought out by rich voices. The boys even managed to put together a Haka or war dance. Too bad the audience looked more goofy than fierce when they stuck out their tongue.
Day 4.
We set out for Lake taupo. On the way I urged my family to drop by the Wai-o-tapu thermal park. We waited in the hot sun for the lady knox geyser, which apparently erupted at 10.15 am every day. OH my foot. The guide threw some soap in and hey presto, a geyser. Nah, the geysewr was natural, but the eruption could be induced by throwing soap in. hahaha.. my family refused to let me off the hook for dragging them out of bed so early to see the stupid geyser. But the park was gorgeous. There was this shallow spring, which had a floor bathed in lovely hues, coloured by the mineral deposition. We found another gigantic lok lok.. this time 10 times the size of the previous one. It was called the champagne pool and it emitted cloud after cloud of choking hot steam. There was also the devil's ink pot, an inky black crater which took the shape of the map of britain. and there was sickly green pool called the devil's bath. All in all, i found it more interesting than the previous thermal park.
We spent the rest of the day driving around trying to find a motel and we found a room for a real bargain price. It over looked the lake and we were treated to a gorgeous sunset ( see photos) .
The rest of the afternoon, we went to view the Huka Falls and the Huka rapids.
Day 5.
Lake taupo.. a crater lake formed after an eruption that dwarfed the catastrophic mountst. helen eruption. THe lake was apparently large enough to contain Singapore.. as so many inhabitants kept telling me. We headed for the volcano science center, the bee farm and had lunch at the prawn farm ( the first to harness geo thermal activity to farm the shrimps)
After lunch, we hired a guide and canoes and canoed down the Waikato river... We had to drag mom along ( she was still relieving her moments on the horse). My dad kept suggesting we go bungee.. With parents like that, you had an excuse to do or not do anything.
OUr guide was called Tam. I volunteered to take the single canoe.. It was Dad with Dan, Mom with Jo. 15 minutes after push off, I found myself alone with Tam on the river.. Mom and Jo had canoed right into a bunch of plants and my dad was trying to extract them. Tam warned us not to go near the willows and the brambles at the side or we would get trapped. I struggled to summon distant memories from my OBS canoeing expedition. But i was swept by the current right into a pile of willows. Tam was yelling something about paddling like shit while trying to help my mom and sis. Thankfully dad got me out of the fix before I was stuck in the willows growing on the bend of the meander. The current swept us along the cool, clear waters of the river. It was soooooo peaceful. We passed the bungee site and witness to people taking the leap of faith. My goodness... I was almost tempted to do it myself, but then again, the cliffs next to the bungee got me thinking otherwise.
We beached up at the hot water springs for a rest and Tam supplied us with some snacks. The spring was awfully crowded and i didn't feel like mingling with the crowd so we didn't take the plunge. We did, however, bath our feet in the hot spring ( much to the irritation of the bathers) .
Then we continued, Tam guided us to the various branches of the river. " You can't miss the beach up point, otherwise the huka falls ain't that far away" She yelled as she pointed to the place we would end out journey. I had exchanged my single for a double with my mom because she and my sister had an unfortunately attraction to bramble bushes.
After beaching safely, I caught sight of an unlikely procession waddling past our canoes. A mother duck and her ducklings had come to explore our canoes and our legs. Tam warned us not to touch the ducklings as their mother would reject her children if they bore the scent of man. We observed the inquisitive little ducklings with amusement.
Day 6, we headed for the waitomo caves... On the way we stopped by a rabbit shearing farm. The angora rabbits resembled big, balls of fur with a pair of ears. Adorable nontheless.
It was a long, perilious drive through winding hills. The glowworms were indeed a sight to behold. It was like entering another world. The tourist sank into an awed silence as our boat glided beneath the glow worms. I felt like belting out the Xmas song.. glow littl'e glowworm glow... apparently the acoustics in teh cave were one of the best in the world, and opera singers had actually sung there before.
We drove all the way back to Auckland.
DAy 7
We set out for the underwater world and artic world to see the cute king penguins waddling around. And oOMG.. 3m long stingrays.. bbq stingray anyone? I'm sure aia would love to see the stingray :) . I also petted this eels.. ewwwwww slimy.
We then visited two extinct volcanoes in the heart of auckland.. one tree hill and mt eden. The craters were ...awesome and so was the wind, which gave us all a bad hair day.
Day 8.
We took a drive to the hot water beach. I tot it would take 40 minutes tops but it turned into a terrible 4 hour drive to the coast.. we had to wind around endless mountain roads.. urgh. But the view was gorgeous. To our disappoitment low tide was at 8pm. and we didn't get to dig our own spa in the sand. but we got to feel the hot sand from a hole some determined tourist had dug. cool.. a hot spring actually flowed towards the sea, hence giving the beach it's unique quality.
Day 9..
We jetted of back to singapore..
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
The king of pop
There's a new craze in the house of TAn, started by the man of the house, taken up by his kids.
nono.. i'm not saying the object of our affections is Elvis Presley. That craze is old news. ALthough I must add that Big daddy once tried to impose the reign of the cat king on us by sitting us down to a 2 hour documentary of how Elvis the Pelvis rose to fame, but that is another story.
Flinging aside all the newspaper articles about Michael Jackson engaging with more ridiculous hanky panky, my dad enthusiastically whipped out old videos and piled the family onto the couch to watch the dude heat up the dance floor. The music was blaring to the max, our roof was threatening to disengage and the hi fi sounded like it belonged to a music mad teenager on crack. Oh .. even freakier than viewing the classic Jackson MtV -- " Thriller "was watching my good ole daddy and my 9 year old bro dancing like the gloved one. I think i wore the same expression as the poor gal in the MTV when she watched jackson transform into a werewolf. Something had slid into our house like a Smooth Criminal and whisked away the last of our sanity. I even learnt how to do the dance move, "popping" from watching the videos. Even more unnerving was my brother doing a replica of the "zombie side shift". He's even taken to dancing out in public, which is the time when my sister and I tell him to " beat it" ( or we pretent we don't know him ). Nah.. the ultimate was watching my dad dance. Thankfully my dad has the ability to do justice to any dance he attempts.
I grew up listening to Elvis and Michael Jackson. It is doubtless that the music influence came from the big man of the house. I spent my childhood belting out tuneless versions of " I"m bad" , hoping that it was an adequate reason to avoid caning. Vague memories surfaced of how I used to sit in front of the TV watching Jackson strut his stuff ( and switching the channels to WWF when my mom wasn't around).
Even today, his moves just elude my understanding of gravity and knee joints. As I watch his legs wave and weave in time to the beat, it seemed to me that they consisted of nothing except cartilage. I tried to imitate his moonwalk and ended up with blistering feet and stubbed toes. His MTVs were mystical and to put it plainly.. the eptiome of coolness. He was the god of rock and dance and he knew it well. As my dad put it, " there was hell of a lot of smoke and wind in his videos". But the exagerrated features of his presentation only served to reinforce his mystique. Watching him prostrate himself over a vent on the stage during an Mtv awards performance, the billowing white shirt and hair just served to invite more screams from the appreciative audience.
Jackson wasn't just a talented dancer and singer, he was the advocate of so many issues of the modern world. Many of his songs featured reminders for Peace like " Heal the WOrld", racial issues like "Black or White" or unmistakable calls to protect the environment. Yeah, only he could pop these messages in the guise of a song and still make it a number one hit.
I can't help feeling a deep sense of sadness as I read the press' mocking reports of how he turned into wacko Jacko. No one would have dreamed of calling him that in the early 1990s. He was just waaaay too funky then. But fame has its price. The cash enable him to endulge in dreams of altering his physique and he took it too far. Now he looks like a lifeless, polished marble sculpture. Even his eyes, which once danced with a mischievious, devilish spirit, have lost its capacity to charm. He looks repulsive and weird. And its hard to salvage any shred of that image I once had of him. Both Elvis and Jackson were caltaputed into the heavens in a flash and it was now going to be a long, agonising fall back to earth.
My dad postulated that jackson was just a nice guy whom everyone was taking advantage of. Recalling the numerous songs he dedicated to improving 3rd world countries and the charities he supported, I can't help agreeing with him. But I can also understand why the media and the public take so much pleasure in mocking him nowadays despite all his earlier contributions both to music and to society. It is too easy to indulge in a freak show. People forget the niceties too easily, they want sensation, they want gossip and they want to take a freaky looking ex-superstar to mock. They want to be able to laugh their heads off at his ghoulish visage and his weird demeanour. It's just our human nature and Jackson's misfortune that drove him to his present position. Everyone wants a piece of him ( his wealth more specifically) and they won't stop until they tear him to shreds.
I still mantain that I like Michael Jackson, but I love the pre-weird king of pop. I love the singer who advocated racial harmony while executing nifty footwork and prancing along the alleyways of the darkest neighbourhood. I idolised the dude who charmed the girls with his entrancing dancemoves and catchy songs, but whom never forgot to remind the world to save the environment and preserve world peace. And oh yes, who could forget his subtle promotion of safe sex in " Billy Jean". All these being done amidst lotsa Wind and Smoke.
SO don't think i'm mad or Bad if I tell ya that the King of Pop is still number one. I dunno if he is guilty or not of those charges but I can tell you.. he is still lord of the dance floor. Even my bro, born in a a jackson post-weird era will tell you that.
And if anyone needs me, i'll be practising the moonwalk in my room with the fan switched on at full blast and lotsa dry ice around.
There's a new craze in the house of TAn, started by the man of the house, taken up by his kids.
nono.. i'm not saying the object of our affections is Elvis Presley. That craze is old news. ALthough I must add that Big daddy once tried to impose the reign of the cat king on us by sitting us down to a 2 hour documentary of how Elvis the Pelvis rose to fame, but that is another story.
Flinging aside all the newspaper articles about Michael Jackson engaging with more ridiculous hanky panky, my dad enthusiastically whipped out old videos and piled the family onto the couch to watch the dude heat up the dance floor. The music was blaring to the max, our roof was threatening to disengage and the hi fi sounded like it belonged to a music mad teenager on crack. Oh .. even freakier than viewing the classic Jackson MtV -- " Thriller "was watching my good ole daddy and my 9 year old bro dancing like the gloved one. I think i wore the same expression as the poor gal in the MTV when she watched jackson transform into a werewolf. Something had slid into our house like a Smooth Criminal and whisked away the last of our sanity. I even learnt how to do the dance move, "popping" from watching the videos. Even more unnerving was my brother doing a replica of the "zombie side shift". He's even taken to dancing out in public, which is the time when my sister and I tell him to " beat it" ( or we pretent we don't know him ). Nah.. the ultimate was watching my dad dance. Thankfully my dad has the ability to do justice to any dance he attempts.
I grew up listening to Elvis and Michael Jackson. It is doubtless that the music influence came from the big man of the house. I spent my childhood belting out tuneless versions of " I"m bad" , hoping that it was an adequate reason to avoid caning. Vague memories surfaced of how I used to sit in front of the TV watching Jackson strut his stuff ( and switching the channels to WWF when my mom wasn't around).
Even today, his moves just elude my understanding of gravity and knee joints. As I watch his legs wave and weave in time to the beat, it seemed to me that they consisted of nothing except cartilage. I tried to imitate his moonwalk and ended up with blistering feet and stubbed toes. His MTVs were mystical and to put it plainly.. the eptiome of coolness. He was the god of rock and dance and he knew it well. As my dad put it, " there was hell of a lot of smoke and wind in his videos". But the exagerrated features of his presentation only served to reinforce his mystique. Watching him prostrate himself over a vent on the stage during an Mtv awards performance, the billowing white shirt and hair just served to invite more screams from the appreciative audience.
Jackson wasn't just a talented dancer and singer, he was the advocate of so many issues of the modern world. Many of his songs featured reminders for Peace like " Heal the WOrld", racial issues like "Black or White" or unmistakable calls to protect the environment. Yeah, only he could pop these messages in the guise of a song and still make it a number one hit.
I can't help feeling a deep sense of sadness as I read the press' mocking reports of how he turned into wacko Jacko. No one would have dreamed of calling him that in the early 1990s. He was just waaaay too funky then. But fame has its price. The cash enable him to endulge in dreams of altering his physique and he took it too far. Now he looks like a lifeless, polished marble sculpture. Even his eyes, which once danced with a mischievious, devilish spirit, have lost its capacity to charm. He looks repulsive and weird. And its hard to salvage any shred of that image I once had of him. Both Elvis and Jackson were caltaputed into the heavens in a flash and it was now going to be a long, agonising fall back to earth.
My dad postulated that jackson was just a nice guy whom everyone was taking advantage of. Recalling the numerous songs he dedicated to improving 3rd world countries and the charities he supported, I can't help agreeing with him. But I can also understand why the media and the public take so much pleasure in mocking him nowadays despite all his earlier contributions both to music and to society. It is too easy to indulge in a freak show. People forget the niceties too easily, they want sensation, they want gossip and they want to take a freaky looking ex-superstar to mock. They want to be able to laugh their heads off at his ghoulish visage and his weird demeanour. It's just our human nature and Jackson's misfortune that drove him to his present position. Everyone wants a piece of him ( his wealth more specifically) and they won't stop until they tear him to shreds.
I still mantain that I like Michael Jackson, but I love the pre-weird king of pop. I love the singer who advocated racial harmony while executing nifty footwork and prancing along the alleyways of the darkest neighbourhood. I idolised the dude who charmed the girls with his entrancing dancemoves and catchy songs, but whom never forgot to remind the world to save the environment and preserve world peace. And oh yes, who could forget his subtle promotion of safe sex in " Billy Jean". All these being done amidst lotsa Wind and Smoke.
SO don't think i'm mad or Bad if I tell ya that the King of Pop is still number one. I dunno if he is guilty or not of those charges but I can tell you.. he is still lord of the dance floor. Even my bro, born in a a jackson post-weird era will tell you that.
And if anyone needs me, i'll be practising the moonwalk in my room with the fan switched on at full blast and lotsa dry ice around.
Saturday, December 06, 2003
" GOsh, what happened to you?"
I peered over the top of my half eaten sandwich at my friend.
" What happened to me?" I asked quizzically.
" I mean, the clothes.. You're dressing rather.. maturely," she said, casting around for a more appropriate word.
I glanced casually at my outfit, a rather plain looking ensemble of a white v neck and a mini skirt. Not something I usually wore, but nothing over the top. " What's wrong with it?" I mused.
" I don't know," she shrugged. " I mean, ever since you've gone to Melbourne, you've started dressing like a working woman, plucked your eyebrows, and done goodness-knows-what to your hair."
Suddenly conscious, I fingered with a few stray strands of my locks. "But i've had it dyed since the end of JC," I protested defensively.
But she was right. I guess I've changed my image slightly since I've left for Melbourne. Probably more than I've ever noticed though there were subtle hints, like old friends striding by without recognising me. I never meant to have made a conscious effort to change my image other than try unsuccessfully to shed a few kilos.
Ok.. so what if I now wore more well-chosen tops, complete with the latest hat perched on my hair. Or so what if i actually started wearing skirts ( gasp, watch out, pigs may fly next too). I usually just throw on a ratty tshirt and rumpled jeans when I dragged myself to uni in the morning. Somethings never do change :P
I peered over the top of my half eaten sandwich at my friend.
" What happened to me?" I asked quizzically.
" I mean, the clothes.. You're dressing rather.. maturely," she said, casting around for a more appropriate word.
I glanced casually at my outfit, a rather plain looking ensemble of a white v neck and a mini skirt. Not something I usually wore, but nothing over the top. " What's wrong with it?" I mused.
" I don't know," she shrugged. " I mean, ever since you've gone to Melbourne, you've started dressing like a working woman, plucked your eyebrows, and done goodness-knows-what to your hair."
Suddenly conscious, I fingered with a few stray strands of my locks. "But i've had it dyed since the end of JC," I protested defensively.
But she was right. I guess I've changed my image slightly since I've left for Melbourne. Probably more than I've ever noticed though there were subtle hints, like old friends striding by without recognising me. I never meant to have made a conscious effort to change my image other than try unsuccessfully to shed a few kilos.
Ok.. so what if I now wore more well-chosen tops, complete with the latest hat perched on my hair. Or so what if i actually started wearing skirts ( gasp, watch out, pigs may fly next too). I usually just throw on a ratty tshirt and rumpled jeans when I dragged myself to uni in the morning. Somethings never do change :P
Friday, December 05, 2003
Gone with ze wind
I just finished GOne with the wind. I must say that it is an incredibly moving story which potrays its characters with an endearing depth. But one thing that I found quite amusing and rather worthy of pondering on is the ole' southern expectations of a young lady and a young gentleman. The ladies have only one goal in life -- to flirt. They seemed to be coached intensively in social graces in order to hook the perfect catch. School is scorned at. Brains are not something to be flaunted. It seems the more airheaded the femme fatale, the more guys get attracted. They have to dance well, dress well, suffer in ridiculously tight corsets, bat their eyelashes and oh yes, throw in those breathy compliments that make the guys weak in their knees.
What's this about the weak, brainless female. Poor scarlett. Aside from her selfishness and spiteful nature, she is a worthy leader and an enterprising young woman. Two qualities frowned upon by her society. Thank god we're encouraged to do otherwise these days.
ANd oh.. that itsy bitsy waist. I'll probably qualify as a an elephant if I were born in the south at that point of time. I doubt I can find a corset that fits. Not to even mention a gown.
One of Scarlett's O 'hara's favoured phrases is " fiddle - dee -dee." It seems to cover most of the conversations when she doesn't wish to think but wants to convince her beaux that she is still focusing her brain on the topic of interest.
I imagine using the same phrase, albeit a more updated version, on the guys today.
" Every word coming out of your mouth is pure bullshit."
Trust me gals, don't try this at home.
I just finished GOne with the wind. I must say that it is an incredibly moving story which potrays its characters with an endearing depth. But one thing that I found quite amusing and rather worthy of pondering on is the ole' southern expectations of a young lady and a young gentleman. The ladies have only one goal in life -- to flirt. They seemed to be coached intensively in social graces in order to hook the perfect catch. School is scorned at. Brains are not something to be flaunted. It seems the more airheaded the femme fatale, the more guys get attracted. They have to dance well, dress well, suffer in ridiculously tight corsets, bat their eyelashes and oh yes, throw in those breathy compliments that make the guys weak in their knees.
What's this about the weak, brainless female. Poor scarlett. Aside from her selfishness and spiteful nature, she is a worthy leader and an enterprising young woman. Two qualities frowned upon by her society. Thank god we're encouraged to do otherwise these days.
ANd oh.. that itsy bitsy waist. I'll probably qualify as a an elephant if I were born in the south at that point of time. I doubt I can find a corset that fits. Not to even mention a gown.
One of Scarlett's O 'hara's favoured phrases is " fiddle - dee -dee." It seems to cover most of the conversations when she doesn't wish to think but wants to convince her beaux that she is still focusing her brain on the topic of interest.
I imagine using the same phrase, albeit a more updated version, on the guys today.
" Every word coming out of your mouth is pure bullshit."
Trust me gals, don't try this at home.
