Of paint-splatters and egocentric divas

So, I was catching up on my dose of YouTube fun—watching posts from friends, serials that'll never see the light of day here in Malaysia and plain ole browsing.

Now, I know that last cycle of ANTM was pretty whacked out. Yes, I'm still crushed that McKey won over my favourites Elina and Analeigh. And gobsmacked that the clueless, bow-legged Samantha actually walked in the finale's fashion show ... and the fact I had to see Whitney Thompson again. Oh, Dominique ... why have you deserted me?

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Okay, so this new season of ANTM starts off to a crazy start. Yes, this one actually topped the pseudo-futuristic Top Model Institute of Technology nightmare that'll have every science geek turn in his badge and begin pledging to metrosexual machismo.

The cycle's premiere takes place in Las Vegas. What better place to welcome the newest batch of wannabe tarts models than the City of Sin?

Since this is Las Vegas, the show started with a historic theme with Roman centurions and togas--Ceasar's Palace, et al, remember? We have the girls streaming into the place where Tyra graced them with her divine presence as the "Goddess of Fierce." Wow. Barely 10 minutes into the show and she's bringing on the crazy. Cue screaming girls here.

Any louder and they'll sound like a bunch of Liverpudlian schoolgirls who just saw the Beatles touch down at the tarmac.

The usual round of interviews followed and we're treated to your usual reality-TV fillers. The girls run the gamut here: we have a street preacher, an epileptic, a bug-eyed (No, not you Christina!) girl who confessed to liking the sight of blood and admits she finds "nosebleeds are sexy," an Afro-ed Amazon and a former burn victim. Oh, and don't forget the silly twit who brought her entire pen collection but couldn't name 5 working models. Hello, clueless! It's a modelling competition, remember?

To cut a stupid story short, they selected the lucky 13 out of the bunch of screaming maggots girls to live in the Top Model house—which, coincidentally is filled with photos of Tyra. Goddess of Fierce? Try Goddess of Narcissism.

The lucky 13 are as follows (with stricken-through names eliminated as of to date):
1. Aminat: the Amazon with the Afro
2. Tahlia: the Burn Victim
3. Natalie: Miss Sassypants
4. Sandra: the African Bitch. Much like Nnenna and Fatima.
5. Allison: Bug-eyed, Blood-Loving Girl
6. London: Manic Street Preacher
7. Fo: the Blaxican
8. Jessica: the Pretty Girl ("I've never been called ugly"). Didn't you study your ANTM Manual? Tyra hates the "pretty-pretties."
9. Nijah: the Prom Queen
10. Celia: the Ice-Blonde Glamazon
11: Isabella: the Epileptic
12: Teyona: the Alien. The size of her forehead!
13: Kortnie: the [not-quite] Plus-Sized Girl. "My body is a temple and the temple wants cheesecake!"

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Alas, the last photo shoot was a nightmare as some girls were big disappointments with the judges, while some surprised the panel with some very, very alluring shots.

The concept of this week's photo shoot is a beauty shot with a twist; the modellettes will be spattered with coloured powder and swatches of make-up, and they need to emote according to the colour. Sounds simple, no?

Not really, if the photos are any judge.


Celia Ammerman is splattered in gray. It was an interesting take on a profile shot, but you can tell there is strength and an iron will behind her eyes.

Teyona Alienson Anderson is yellow. Frankly, I don't get what is it about this photo that made Tyrant go positively moist with her "hope and change" speech. Her eyes, while looking somewhere in the distant, still looks blank and is a classic example of the make-up doing all the work.

Metallic blue was the colour chosen for London Levi. Looking like an alabaster-skinned goddess, this photo is rife with interesting little details: the raised shoulder, the delineation of her clavicle, the sombre emotion in her blue eyes. My only gripe about the photo is that in turning her head at the photo's current angle, London lost her neck.

Would you believe the judges actually had her placed in bottom three?!?

Sandra Nyanchoka wanted to embody the purity and angelic connotations behind white. What she ended up looking like is the confused love-child of Dennis Rodman and Harley Quinn.

Thank Heavens this lousy photo sent her packing.

Passion. Energy. That was what Fo Porter embodied in this exquisite shot. The arched eyebrows, the pouty lips, the way her freckles blended with the fine smatterings of red pigment and of course, she was smiling with her eyes.

Hello! What have we here? The latest MAC ad campaign? No, it was another pleasant surprise from this cycle's underdog Tahlia Brookins. Her softly sensual look makes you want to buy violet lipstick, doesn't it?

I feel almost sorry for this cycle's resident freakshow. Allison Harvard is a young photography afficionado, and she's as cute as a button. A cutie-pie who likes blood and finds nose-bleeds sexy. She tells people she's stealing their souls with her eyes. Understandably, her shutterbug hobby lends her a slight edge over the other girls, but she has "only one look," as noted by judge Paulina Porizkova.

Her embodiment of hot pink, though beautiful, is bland and uninspired. True, it looks like it belongs among the pages of Vogue or Marie Clare but still a sub-par performance for someone who started out so strongly in the competition.

Judge Nigel Barker likens Natalie Pack to Keira Knightley. My jury's still out on that one, but I'm certain that the willowy actress is yards the better model (Coco Mademoiselle?) than this cycle's Miss Sassypants.

Alas, for Miss Hack Pack. While she is a beautiful girl—and currently is the most modelesque of the girls—she has yet to master finding the correct angles to maximize her delicate bone structure. Her head-on photo looks like she had her face squashed against a shop window.

It seems emoting orange—which is fun, vibrant and almost psychedelic—is a bit too far out of her range; making her look vague and haughtily disinterested, raised eyebrows be damned.

Green with envy? Not Aminat Ayinde. The statuesque 6'11" beauty instead went for a more earthier and softer associations with the colour. She finally mastered her angles, and her lips are perfection—do I foresee lip gloss sales skyrocketing anytime soon?

*Photos credited to the CW

Of Life's Lessons

Harking on back on where I am right now, and the road that led me here I was struck once again just how often people in general deny their true selves.

It’s true. We diminish ourselves, limit our talents and blind our far-reaching minds because we want to blend. We hug the familiar with such fear of letting go that we squall like newborns when someone amputates us free. We try to nail down shutters to windows letting the view of things new and untarnished. We solder our tongues to our throat so truths remain unheard, and wisdom withered unsaid. We bind our nimble fingers from pointing to paths not tread and cripple each other when one walks too far—or too fast.

On the flipside? We close our eyes to the realities of our own limitations and contract our own self-written Icarus-like tragedy.

Or we end up like Phaeton instead, piggybacking on another's name we presume to be their equals—if not betters.

We lie to ourselves by saying we’re noble and true but honestly are they truly virtues or they just pipelines you fill in to make yourself feel good? A husband will lie to his wife about a rough day at work, simply to avoid her smelling the secretary on his shirt. A son will lie to his mother about staying back at school, so she wouldn’t know he was in detention. An employee will lie to his superiors if it’ll clear him off the hook. We tell people of the good things we’ve done, and our achievements for what -- ? For them to start attaching their lips to our anal rings and start sucking? So they could build a tiny little shrine and ply you with itik golek for next week's nombor ekor?

Whilst I’m hardly a certified life coach, I believe we could all share with a little lesson or two, no?


Life Lessons 101:
1. Not only is Life a bitch, she has puppies.
Life, in all her myriad wonders and ugliness—and much like Fagin in Oliver Twist with his fleet of street urchins—employs underlings to bring you down. Age, Time, Luck, and Misfortune—all will try their dandiest to trip you up, knock you off of your pedestal and drown you out.

Hire a dog-catcher and keep those puppies penned.

2. When Life throws you lemons, throw back bricks! (and watch out for innocent bystanders!)
Sometimes, you end up receiving one of Life’s anal probe. Shit happens. That doesn’t mean you have to smell like one, yes?

It’s a precarious line to balance, though. Remember, standing up for yourself doesn’t mean stepping on others’ toes.

3. Love is Life’s pretty little sister.
Remember that little play by a certain bard called The Taming of the Shrew? Meet the Bianca of the family. Unfortunately, like all ugly elder sisters Life will make sure Love doesn’t get to have all the fun with you.

4. Some friends are fiends spelt with an “R.”
Yes, we love having our friends. There will be times however, when our friends are working against our best interest—because it is in their best interest that we trip and fall on our unpadded asses! That isn’t to say that most of them are mean-spirited. They just can’t help flapping their gums. Asking them for discretion is like celebrating Celine Dion’s retirement.

And we all knew how that went.

Some, however are the veritable Trojan horse in our group of friends. These leeches feeding off on your trust and goodwill infiltrate your life because they don’t have one. Consumed with envy because they can’t be you, they settle for lying in close then tearing you down when the opportunity presents itself.

Invest in a little emotional exorcism for the exotics, or just clock in a good old session with your therapist (who will no doubt be itching to pen her memoirs about the fools she’s met in her course of work!). Or your best friend—who’ll undoubtedly be a lot cheaper.

5. Drama is an elective, not a prerequisite
Yes, you know how some people are naturally flamboyant (who, ME?) while some seem to court trouble on a daily basis. To the point they can’t throw a party without the police being invited. These are the people that’ll make even RuPaul and Amanda Lepore run for the trees!

Learn the difference between stress (Work! Work! Work!) and drama (calling your friends from the office phone and whining about work!).

Remember that Drama is Life’s whorish black sheep cousin—grief masked as a one-time show, staging an over-the-top trauma. For these people—or if God forbid, you happen to be one of them!—have a handy supply of horse tranqs in your bag. You’ll need it.

Of an Open Letter

Dearest Whom Ever,

I've been listening to too many critiques and they all contradict each other.

I've been called a product of misery. Does that mean I desire company?
I've been called bipolar. Does that mean I should increase my Zalasta intake?
I've been called a body-switcher. Should I eviscerate my Mr Hyde?
I've been called a rampaging berserker on the warpath. Do I turn myself into a willing victim now?
I've been told I'm multifacted. Do you want me to limit myself?
You call me cold, yet say I carry too much passion that it exhaust those around me to keep up.
You call me ugly yet trot me out like a prize filly in a show.
You call me full of shit and still you listen to my tales of romance and fancies.

So tell me again how does this finger-pointing work --- do I stand still? or do you want me to dodge your salvo like in P. E. class?

Tell me again of this seemingly incredible monster that shapeshifts, this multitasking destroyer that chomps on unfortunate souls to feed it's painful existence, this being that carries manifold mind patterns that houses too dangerous an imagination? Does it crave virgin sacrifices?

Or does it play more like this:
You call me miserable because I can exist without others.
I am bipolar because I like to laugh my troubles out loud, and become silent when I'm thinking.
You call me a body-switcher because I can separate between my heart's dictates and my mind's demands.
I'm a berserker on the warpath because I've had enough of being a victim.
I'm multifaceted because every one I come into contact with is unique in their own special way.
I'm cold because I don't waste time with feeling as opposed to doing.
You call me ugly because I reflect what is inside your soul.
I'm full of shit because that is the only scent a swill-guzzling spawn-of-a-sow would be familiar with.


Yours sincerely,
N. E. Guy

Of vexing timings

Time.

A way to measure the passage of moments as we go throughout our life and trials. There are times when we take its passing for granted, always expecting that we have more to spare.

Alas, as my 30th birthday approaches I find myself discombobulated. No, it wasn't the regret for lost opportunities for I've always one who is never given to ponder on loss and missing chances. It was more of the time it takes to be patient. While I am quite adept at playing a waiting game much like a hunter stalking his prey, I am never known for my patience. It is a paradox--a rather telling one I admit, of deeper meanings churning in my mind.

Imagine my disgust at being told to wait for a simple outing because a person needs time to focus on finding himself/herself. What was that supposed to mean? Does one need a body atlas and a refresher course in Anatomy 101? I said to myself that it is just fine; if one wants to play an emotional Peter Pan with one's little green flying suit not far for flights of fancy to the nearest club--who am I to deny that one singular pleasure? After all, I've experienced the nightlife and while it was an enjoyable diversion, such fancies are not for me. Not with my dislike for alien crowds and shallow conversations. One shouldn't look for depths of character in a place where the bathroom walls are as translucent as a Japanese paper-house!

No one would know the harsh sting of grief and loss better than I. I would not presume to lay claim to have writ a book on monopolizing such issues but I am quite familiar with the depressive malaise that follows such cruelties Life inevatably inflicts. La, a lover leaves you for someone else. Death claimed a loved one. Friends turned into rivals, and siblings into saboteurs. Betrayal, disappointments, failures and hatred are the consequences of our own discrepancies.

Perhaps I'm too harsh for those not made as I. Perhaps I'm too much of an idealist in a place where a person's word is worth nothing--just air particles vibrated to produce platitudes that never amounted to much.

Perhaps if I'm not such a besotted fool it would've been translated differently.

Of savage findings

Often did I sometimes perch myself on one of those pyramidical cylinders at the park and wondered if all I could see was all I needed to know of this life. I lost count what I did back then but I did remember that I was a foolish little boy who once played the truant to escape the humdrum school days. Or the bullies.

I was young. Impressionable. In my pride and foolhardiness I tempted my luck too many times over and have walked away from a past while not filled with regrets, was something I would be hard-pressed to admit I was proud of.

Overly melodramatic, perhaps. Frankly honest, yes.

When I looked back on things now with eyes more seasoned towards thirty cycles of the sun, I feel like laughing at myself. Was I that absorbed in my own self-importance? Lackaday. If I'd met that boy now I would've been spitting on him. And with great relish. In retrospect, it is good to realize that we were once fools. Just that some of us would prefer not to relish the process!

It was a painful realization that I realized that whatever small capacity I had for feeling--save anger and rage--died with someone dear to me. No, I will not name names, for they're unneeded--nor pertinent--at this point. It was even more painful that whatever glimmer of light I chanced upon should tantalize me with a whispered spark ... but I am swimming aloone in these cold depths. Like the Eskimos, I have my Sedna chasing me from beyond the murky deeps.

I would like to style myself as Robinson Crusoe inside my head, that I'll find that lost savage within me and cleave him to the light.

Only when darkness meets the light will I be balanced.

"Drowning for Mako"

It was a dark cold emptiness
that I had to brave for you
Frayed knots I need to undo

My limbs grow cold and unfeeling
and I start to slip under
Don't let me go, never
let me go without an inkling

Will this be a short journey?
Or am I doomed to failure
floating, floating forever

My bones grow brittle and
I start to break apart
Oh my fragile heart!
Fractured from end to end

The water fills me, it fills me
It consumes, takes me over
And slowly, I'm pulled under

My shell expands like gossamer
And my limbs now move
Like birds in sky above
A most graceful swimmer

Ah bliss! My journey is unending
yet no longer am I lonely
My totem, you're with me

Of losing stupidity

You remember the poem about Solomon Grundy? Born on Monday ... dead on Sunday?

I forgot how it all went. Handily enough, I have a new take on a certain Solomon Grundy of mine: Born on Tuesday, doped to the gills all the way, OD'd on Sunday, died on--surprise, surprise--Tuesday.

Please, judge me not too harshly for being unsympathetic. It boggles my marbles when an intelligent young man decides to throw all he had going for him for the sake of a few extra milligramme of liquid high. I hoped it was worth it. I hoped his life--what it might have been, what he could have achieved if he wasn't so out of it--flashes before his eyes. I doubt if he was lucid enough but I hope to all that is holy he suffered. Like how his family and friends suffered.

Like those people who picked up the slack--keeping mum about his whereabaouts, helping him through his withdrawal. People who helped him to the toilet when he could barely make it past his filthy, stinking bed.

Is this what it's like in the middle of a hurricane? Standing in the middle of a deceptive calm while everything spins out of control.

Who was it that was spiralling out of the centre? Was it him, or was it us all along?

Did we try too hard to tether a fey spirit, did we smother it with our concern?

It was a life marked by sadness. Not his, for he was laughing and cackling away when we tried to slap him to his senses. No ... he was having too much fun to stop.

Well ... it finally stopped for him. And we're left to pick up the pieces.

Again.

Of animals in the office

A dear colleague left the company I'm working at for a better offer at Maxis. I would admit that I feel a mite discomfitted at the loss of a familiar face. The selfish prig in me wanted her to stay but the pragmatist wished her all the best in her move. Better things await her I'll bet, instead of mouldering away in a job that I suspect she was beginning to resent. I find myself envious at her windfall. It's only human, I suppose.

It would be conjecture on my part but I suspect that it wasn't just the work she was starting to resent but the persons involved as well.

Pray, am I one of them?

Some were asking me what I would do now that she is gone. I was a bit surprised at the silliness of it all: was I not breathing before I knew her? What did they expect, that I lose it and start going Hannibal Lecter on people? People come and go. Especially in an office environment. Since I dare call myself her friend, should I not be glad she's leaving for greener pastures? La, people are such fools sometimes. They would presume to judge you on only a small aspect of your life that they see in the office and make assumptions--usually unflattering ones. Perhaps they meant it in good clean fun. Perhaps not. I wouldn't dream of calling myself a mind-reader but if what they vocalize is what they were thinking ... do I even want to go there?

Whilst on the topic of presumptious fools, what does it say about your superiors who seemed to be incapable of doing nothing else but gossip endlessly in the office? Or butting in on your conversations with your colleagues? Or kept touching you inappropriately? Or simply put, just congenitally stupid? I usually operate on a slightly jaded worldview but today my mind decided to go on its psychedelic weekend mode extraordinarily early.

The result is that my office suddenly turned into a morbidly bizarre Looney Tunes episode.

The players are:
1. Madame du Viper - A pit viper with a poisonous tongue. The wannabe queen bee. Tendency to backstab, tattle, rumor-monger and bully those too weak to fight back. Could be mistaken for a male of the species when viewed from the back (squat and f-ugly!).

2. The Placeholder Drone - Takes the form of a giant wasp. Can be vicious and poisonous--though not as virulent as the Viper. Rendered impoptent due to second-string status, this one hungers for their turn in the spotlight. Usually found buzzing around looking for scraps of gossip, info, potential blackmail material and such--all to increase their relevance in the office.

3. The Wise Owl - A beneficent parental/mentor figure. Usually sits in the background, but within visual contact of the staff. Tends to rely much on their direct subordinate(s).

4. The Tree Shrew/Rat - As a colleague, this one is DANGEROUS! Usually pleasant of face, dress or demeanour. Credit-stealing is the least they will do. As a superior, this one is an EXTINCTION-LEVEL threat. Utilises mother-hen antics to hide their deficiencies. Suffers from a form of megalomania, can be found running around being a know-all, help-all, handle-all. Much like their namesake, will sacrifice their staffs' or colleagues' wellbeing, sanity, livelihood, reputation and self-esteem if it could save their sorry necks or further their career.

5. The Bear Savant - Takes the form of a honey bear (Think Baloo from The Jungle Book). Smart, knowledgable and approachable they tend to hold their peers' respect as colleagues, and their staffs' loyalty as superiors.

6. The Ducks-in-a-Row - Mostly harmless, they tend to be void of identity. However, the unwary has been known to be pecked to death sometimes--if they report directly to the Viper/Shrew/Rat types. When they do report to the aforementioned, they will usually have carte blanche to do as they will, as their superiors' proxy.

7. The Busy Bees - As workers, they're indispensible. They're conscientous, industrious and knowledgable (if not capable). No pushover, they've been known to attack aggressors with their deadly sting--and they're not averse to teaming up against larger opponents. Favourite victims: Viper/Shrew/Rat.

8. The Funny Monkey - The office clown. Can be counted on to enliven the office. No natural enemies as Owls appreciate their intrinsic value as comic-relief and agressors see them as non-threatening. Tendency to clown around however, lands them foul of the Placeholder when the latter is on the warpath.

9. The Cat - Usually found alone. Can be sociable but erratic. While personable, has a tendency to go from one mood swing to another. Tends to take a neutral stance in office politics. While more concerned with his meal-ticket and creature comforts, can be ferocious when prodded in the wrong way. Has a natural antipathy towards the Viper/Shrew/Rat types. Gets along well with the Bear and the Bees. Ironically, they tend to be at loggerheads with Monkeys, who find their mood swings disturbing.


It is obvious that they don't give me enough to do at work if I can actually come up with this in my head while updating databases!

"Words"

You can call me your comfort zone
as you rest your head on me.
You can call me when you feel the need
to talk your troubles out.
You can scream and rant at me
if it makes you feel better.

I have but words
and they stumble
upon your tongue

You can hold me, hug me
when the cold night air blows.
You can slam me into the wall
to cushion your thoughtless swerve.
You can be my sun, my light, my life
as I gravitate to the hum of your core.

I have but words
and they echo
unheard in silence

You can remake yourself
yet all I need is the person within
You can redeem yourself
yet all is already forgiven
You can fly unfettered
and all I need is your return

I have but words
and they stumble ...
Like me

Of findings and Cheshire smiles

I've often been told I'm a study of contradictions. I wouldn't know just how true that might be as the discussions -- so I've been told -- usually takes place outside of my hearing. To give the gossipy folks their due, I would say they are correct but one must excuse me for being uncharacteristically close-mouthed on the exact veracity of their suppositions. After all, it wouldn't do to tip my hand ... I might be misanthropic, but definitely far from being moronic.

I would like to say that yes, I walk around with an exposed nerve. I'm emotionally trigger-happy. I would be one of those that believe the first burst of emotion -- that first reaction -- is always the truest, as it is the most pure. Others would gainsay that you need time to make a proper decision. I usually rebutt that time blurs the true intent. After all, if you already know what you want and/or need ... what else is there to think?

However, when it comes to matters close to the heart --yes, I can hear some poeple snickering there! -- I've always been cautious. I wouldn't lie by saying I've never felt the intense burst of lust or developed unhealty fixations or (gads!) even hormone-driven infatuation ... yet I'm never quite foolish enough to believe them as otherwise. It was with great delight -- and I admit with a healthy dose of chagrin on my part -- that I suddenly realize I've found someone ... and I never quite expected it!

I've been more or less oblivious that there have been times I'm too ensconced in my own head that I don't pay much attention to the people around me. Perhaps that would be the primary reason I'm perceived as aloof, snobbish or cold -- my vitriolic tongue-lashings notwithstanding. La, gushing is not something I'm prone to and I still find myself being a veritable Chesire cat at times. I admit that loopy smiles and I do not usually go hand-in-hand.

I wouldn't presume to know where this will lead, but I'm willing to find out. And the one who made me smile again seems willing to accompany me. Perhaps the journey alone is worth it.