August 2008 Archives

Today my brain attempted to leap out of my head. In protest.

It was likely upset at being forced to read the following piece:
Sneak peek into journalism

Yes, The Star, our local newspaper is going into television. But seriously, a suspense drama called Frontpage? And it produced the storyline as well for the 13 episode series.

"We wanted to share with our readers the tough decisions and hard work that go into the making of a newspaper." By producing a drama. Right.

If they tried that with tech journalism, I highly doubt it would count for high drama. More likely it would end up as high comedy.

Picture this scenario for a tech mag show. Let's call it Byte Me.

Pilot Episode: Peter Lim finds himself editor of an ailing tech magazine with the tough job of getting subscriptions and ad revenue up, as well as pleasing the nitpicky ten people who spend all their time posting on the magazine's forums.

Then he finds out an ex-flame will also be joining the firm as sales manager. Then there's rival magazine editor Thomas Damien who's out for blood due to a long-standing feud with Peter's publisher and aims to settle the score through any means necessary. Will Peter succeed? Or is he doomed to spend the rest of his life writing copy for the Yellow Pages?

Episode 1: The Stock Check
Company X&Y has called up, asking for review items they expected back weeks ago. But Peter wasn't hired yet when the items were around and has no idea where they are now as there is no documentation. Not to mention his ex-girlfriend/current sales manager is unhappy with his pagination and demands he adjust the ad/copy ratio. Will Peter find the missing items? Will his salesperson see reason? Or will his publisher just fire them both because they're still under probation?

Episode 2: Dirty Talking
After Peter's magazine scores an exclusive advertising deal with company JiloJilo, murky rumours abound of how the deal was secured. How will Peter stave off sordid rumours involving his sales manager, a photocopy machine and lots of thermal paste? To top that off, his lead designer's threatening to leave the company unless he gets either a pay increase or 'get the blardy sales to stop bothering me day and night, can or not?'

I suspect my talents do not lie in TV screenplays. Alas. 

I always have people wondering why I've managed to survive a 4-year long distance relationship.

There's a time and place for all things. And I've found that our notions of when we want things to happen don't often tally with God's time. So I'm not getting married this year. Likely not the next. Or the year after that. We'll get there eventually and likely people we know won't get word until the very last minute.

We do know that we can't imagine growing old with anyone else. Like, most people of my acquaintance (ex-fiances included) quake at my temper. Boyfriend thinks it's amusing and rather cute when I do my X-Men Storm impression. While kicking him in the shins, nonetheless. Definitely a keeper.

Of course, my personal notion would be to post a "We're Married, Bitches!" sign on the site. But boyfriend would find that impolite. And his mother doesn't surf the Net and wouldn't appreciate being called a bitch.

Perhaps I've posted this before but this Mike and Mechanics song has been a mainstay of my teenage years, a reminder to be patient when things aren't working out the way I thought. If something isn't happening right now, perhaps God is just creating a space for other things to happen. That his plans, his notions, his dreams for me are better than anything I could ever contemplate.

So I'll trust. And I'll wait. Instead of just longing for a distant speck in the future, I'll do well to remember that right here, right now, I am loved.

Time and Place (lyrics courtesy of houseofmanyrooms.com)

There's a time and place
For you to make your mark and show your face
There's a place in time
When you must step outside the line

So understand what I mean
There is a time and place for you to have your dream
But here and now may not be
The time and place for you and me
You and me

It's the finest line
A missed opportunity or the perfect time
You must not despair
You'll recognise it when you're there

So understand what I mean
There is a time and place for you to have your dream
But here and now may not be
The time and place for you and me

The time and place for you and me
There's a time and there's a moment you will see
Don't lower your expectations
There are no limitations
There's a time and place for you and me

So understand hard as it seems
There is a time and place for you to have your dreams
Though here and now may not be
The time and place for you and me
You and me

Bloghopping from POP!PR Jots to Jeff Pulver to Scobleizer, I think about my own little existential crisis. Four years at The Mag and again I'm reassessing my values and my priorities.

My friends know I have these 'spasms' very frequently - the whole 'Why am I here? What am I doing? How is what I'm doing helping the world?' gets replayed every year. 

And then I read Scoble's Has/How/Why tech blogging has failed you and I realise how much it relates to my job.

"I realized that I'm at fault for some of why tech blogging has failed you and was thinking that I'd done too much of the "business talk" and not enough of the "let's discover something that'll improve our lives together" talk."

I wonder to myself what I've done wrong as a journalist, where I've failed to put what was important first - my readers.

Yes, I could start a long diatribe about how advertisers push Malaysian media into writing what they want, treating journalists like paid copywriters instead of objective purveyors of news. But then, it's our own fault for letting them treat us that way. We surrendered our backbones to the whims of Big Business and it's our own fault our credibility's shattered.

I wanted to inform, educate, excite people about what makes technology such an exciting field to be in. But instead I spent more time worrying about deadlines, battling office politics, mollycoddling my contributors, fending off detractors and demanding clients than my content.

Why complain when things are the way they are? Why keep highlighting the bad, the depressing, the downright sordid?

I guess what I need is a new perspective on what I'm doing, where I'm heading and not be stuck so much on the 'glass is half empty' point of view. Yes, there is a lot that sucks about the industry. Too much emphasis on the trivial and not enough on things that matter, events that could, potentially, save the world.

Scoble's trying to make Scobleizer better. I'm going to try and be better at what I do, what I'm doing and how I do it.

Now the next question is: where do I start?  

A Malay man joined the DAP. And not just anyone, but a former director of Malaysia's chapter of Transparency International, Tunku Abdul Aziz.

This could just bring hope for the end of racial-based politics in Malaysia.

The spirit of Onn Jaafar lives on.

With so much on my plate, you'd think I would learn to do less, right?

Wrong.

After a late revelation about how important singing is in my life, I created a new blog (gotta love multi-blogging with Movable Type Pro). Sing, O My Soul at sing.ernamahyuni.com.

I meet a lot of people with pleasant voices who don't have the privilege or time to go to singing classes. But singing is something that can give so much joy, that I think it's a pity not to learn how to do it well.

The blog will chronicle my own learning experiences about my voice, learning to sing and helping another young'un along.

Yes, the student is also a teacher. I volunteered to vocal coach a young thespian friend. It's as much a learning process for me as it is for him, really. He's very young, very talented (at acting). A voice with a potentially lovely timbre and yet, I get this itch to help him polish it.

And why not let someone else benefit from all the experience and knowledge I gathered about vocal theory and practice?

It broke my heart today to read this - a friend's bitterness about being denied her dreams via circumstances of birth.

But isn't that the human condition? To always want what's unattainable or just beyond our grasp?

What can you say to the death of dreams? To longing for something so easily obtainable, it seems, to everyone else but you?

One friend dreams of living in distant shores; another dreams of a husband and children of her own. One wants citizenship at the country of her birth and another, the affections of a girl he's been longing for all through university. Another of getting a scholarship to do his Masters overseas.

Longing, want, desire can be powerful things. And oh, the pain of having them thwarted.

Disappointment, grief, pangs.

The Polyannas would just counsel us to 'like what we've got' and be happy!

It's not that simple.

I've got no answers. Only experience. It can be heartbreaking to want something so much and yet it seems so unattainable.

Like tonight, watching a friend play piano at a concert. Growing up, I'd envied the friends whose parents could afford them lessons. It was hard enough feeding us all, luxuries like pianos could never come into the picture. I'd harboured secret dreams of maybe one day buying one and finding the time to learn.

And it struck me tonight that it would take more time than I had. It would take years before I'd be proficient enough to accompany myself to songs I liked. And there were so many other things I wanted more than to learn to tickle the ivories. There were things I already could do well, and could do better.

There just isn't room in my life for a piano. But there is room to sing, to write, to laugh, to learn.

I hope that my friends' thwarted desires will be replaced by other things. That perhaps they'll find some silver lining, some comfort in the darkness to ease the hurt of disappointment. 

I believe that sometimes God doesn't give us what we want because it isn't what we need. Or it isn't the time yet, impatient little creatures that we are, demanding we get things because we want them, dammit.

There is a plan, a way for us to forge through the wilderness.

Now, if only God would let us in on the plan.

Dear Prime Minister: You took a trip on our venerable KTM Kommuter service and voiced your displeasure at its slowness and inconvenience. This is how I feel in a thousand words.
more animals

As usual, Malaysia's being made a laughing stock. Again.

Seriously, when the morality police are questioning an Avril Lavigne concert, it makes me wonder if they don't watch TV or listen to the radio. It's patently embarassing. What is our culture, then? Do Malaysians only listen to nasyid, sappy Scorpions-wannabe soft rock, old CantoPop and Bollywood hit tunes?

And UMNO just decides to roll over, show its belly and proclaim that the concert is "not our culture", then they backpedal and say it's too near Merdeka day.

Screw Malaysian culture if it's just about not having a conscience or backbone, or thinking it's right to stuff your own definition of culture and religion down everyone else's throat.

Though I would have been supportive if the concert was banned to save us from truly awful tunes like that "hey, hey, you, you" song.

After moving away from Movable Type to the hosted version i.e. TypePad, I find myself back on good old MT. Because the latest version of MT, MT Pro has TypePad's awesome anti-spam protection which is seriously worth paying good money for.

There were a few teething issues earlier because of broken uploads, Internet timeouts and my admitted stupidity. But the blog's back up and I must apologise to the three people who have me on RSS - sorry, I switched hosts (and CMS, sorta) again.

Full review of the shiny new version of MT when I have the time.

I will stay with you through the ups and the downs
Oh, I will stay with you when no one else is around
When the dark clouds arrive, I will stay by your side
I know we'll be all right
I will stay with you

Sometimes we get too caught up with the business of living our lives, we forget to take the time to figure out the Hows and the Whys.

I remember a friend of mine who was moaning to me about being tired, feeling unfulfilled and her dissatisfaction with life in general. And then she cut short our heart-to-heart because she needed to go back and catch a favourite TV show. Ah, priorities.

Right now, I'm still trying to refine mine. There are too many things I like doing - singing, writing, guitar, gaming, machinima - but I don't have the time to get to all of them. I want to learn a new language (or four), climb Mt.Kinabalu, run a marathon, write songs and screenplays, shoot an indie but I'm beginning to realise I have to choose.

If you're in the same quandary, why not read this piece by the Leo Babauta of Zenhabits.com - Reclaim Your TIme: 20 Great Ways to Find More Free Time.

Before:

"I’ve always wanted to write, but never had the time. I’ve always wanted to exercise, but was too busy. I always wanted to travel, but who can get away? I’ve always wanted to spend time with my kids, but work comes first, right?"

After:

"Today, I wake early and exercise or spend some quiet time reading and writing. I’ve written a novel and a non-fiction book. I write this blog. I run and have finally run a marathon (two actually) and completed a triathlon. I spend afternoons and evenings and all weekends with my kids and wife."

It's not brain science, prioritising. But it's hard because it's not easy to just say goodbye to the things you like doing because you want to focus on what you love doing.

“Time is a gift, given to you, given to give you the time you need, the time you need to have the time of your life.”

-Norton Juster, The Phantom Tollbooth

And I'm taking this time, now, to make some hard decisions.
Let's see where that leads me.

 

Third day of Pilates and my body's gotten more used to the routine. Pilates requires you to really switch off - to listen to your body and mentally focus on the movements. None of that loud music to distract you from physical discomfort. I even found myself sweating as I did my inner thigh stretches and I suppose that's a good thing.

Will give my body a bit of a rest tomorrow because three days straight of Pilates is stretching my limits already. I remember the last time I over-exerted myself - couldn't sit without wincing from the pain for weeks!

Diet progress? I let myself have a little treat by buying a nice big bar of Cadbury's Old Jamaica. It's sitting in the fridge for the odd snack but have also purchased a healthy alternative - plain old raisins. I quite like having the meal replacement shakes for breakfast - now I never miss that 'most important meal of the day'.

I suppose there must be some progress as I showed up at a press conference today and a fellow reporter insisted on snapping a picture of me because I 'look so different!'. Goal for the month is pretty simple - to lose 2kg by month end. Once I've managed to get through 10 sessions of Pilates, I'll add some cardio to the mix and start jogging or perhaps wake up early for a session of Sun Salutations.

Blogging about my weight-loss journey seems to be working as a motivator. Now, if only I wasn't too chicken-shit to keep a food journal...

Well, at least we know the pricing now.

You choose between two contracts - 12-month or 24-month. 12-month contract: RM99 for 1.2Mbps, RM229 for 2.4Mbps. Choose the 24-month contract, and the pricing dips to RM89 and RM199.

What I'm not too excited about is WIMAX is still only readily available in KLCC, Golden Triangle (Bukit Bintang and surrounding areas), Pekeliling, Setapak, Gombak, Seri Rampai, Sentul, Pudu and selected areas in Subang Jaya, USJ 1, USJ 7 and the Subang Hi-Tech area.

Everywhere else? Wait until the end of 2008.

Oh well, plenty of time for all the other broadband providers to grovel at our feet muchly.

And their WIMAX site at www.p1w1max.com hasn't even been updated with the plans. Not to mention the link to the coverage map is broken.

Ah, WIMAX, our relationship was not meant to be. And I shall be stuck with my crappy wireless broadband for a long while yet...

I feel like channeling Lainie today so here goes...

It's funny, baby, how when I'm feeling the least bit doubtful about us, you call or text me.
Like just now when I was telling myself not to call you until Friday. I've been so clingy lately that I was afraid you'd become cold or distant.

And just when I'm thinking that, the phone beeps and I read this:
"Be happy. Am here for you."

It happens so often I should be used to it by now. But, honey, it's still magic to me that your heart can still hear mine across the miles.

***
This whole weight-loss regiment is a pain. So far I've lost some of the flab...from my face. The rest of my body needs coaxing so I've started on Pilates. I'm not even supposed to be doing any heavy lifting so I thought mat exercises would be safe enough.

Safe they are, but I am sore. My inner thighs hurt. My back muscles feel like they've been wrung through a drier. And looking in the mirror, I realise my posture's gone off. My lower back arches too much while my litle pot belly leads the way - a sign my core muscles are out of shape.

And my ass has definitely seen better days.

But Pilates is good for me - I can stay horizontal, no sweating involved and after it's over, I know I've got a good workout from the way I feel the next morning.

OW OW OW OW OW OW OW
***
The P1 WIMAX launch is tomorrow. Will likely pop in just because I can.

WIMAX please don't suck.

But I heard they won't even be covering all of PJ until the end of the year.

The gods of Internet hate me. Or they just want to break me up with WOW.

Sniff.

***
I'm going to be NaNoWriMo ML for Malaysia again this year. Am excited - the new t-shirt looks awesome and I can't wait for November to roll around. I've already got novel ideas but I still remember Sharon saying to me "You can't just Nano forever, you know."

Maybe not forever, but just as long as I can.

I love my Nano peeps.

***
When things go wrong, the skies go dark, when loss and grief come by...I'm grateful for good friends, Euro Deli, bak kut teh, Bailey's with milk, Cold Storage and McDonald's delivery.

***
So I look at pictures of you and me. And it doesn't hurt anymore.

Because it's all good.

Not the way it used to be, nor will it ever be the same.

But the memories make me smile now.

And that, my dear friend, is a good thing.

The American 4 x 100m Medley Relay team claimed their second consecutive victory in the event, bettering their Athens 2004 world record to 3:39.34. Certainly a sweet victory all round.
I'm just hoping against hope that Phelps will be proven a true champion - one that didn't resort to steroids, blood doping and other such 'cheats'. He'll also prove a great role model for all the ADD-diagnosed kids out there. Diagnosed with the condition at 9, his primary teacher brusquely told his mother "Oh, he's not gifted."

His mother used swimming as a way to help him keep focused, to ease his constant restlessness. If only other mothers were as insightful about child rearing as she was. She could have given up on him the way his teacher did or kept him doped on medication to 'control' him. With a parent like that, let's hope Phelps remains level-headed, focused and a great example to the rest of us in the power of daring to dream.
 

So we Malaysians have our popcorn and passports ready to see the results of the Permatang Pauh by-elections.

Popcorn to watch the high drama; passports in case things get ugly. Singapore might just see a sudden influx of 'tourists' if the BN gets skittish and declares emergency status if Anwar wins. Or if he doesn't. You know, to prevent riots and so forth and so forth.

Why am I using a McCain and Obama picture? Because if China can get away with misrepresentation, so can I. Oh, and I'm too lazy to Photoshop. Plus it's easy to get pictures of Anwar but not so that other fella, Arif Shah Omar.

Of course, we can already expect our local media to publish pro-government headlines. NST, for example, is always up to the 'duty' with this Bernama-sourced piece:
NAJIB: BN expects tough battle, but confident of winning Permatang Pauh

The AP begs to differ with their newspiece by an obviously unbiased Eileen Ng:
"Malaysia's top opposition leader filed nomination papers Saturday for a Parliament by-election that he is expected to win easily -- the first step in his bid to bring down the government and become prime minister."

And because Bernama just loves using the word 'confident' in its headlines, here's another one I got off NST: Both BN and Pakatan confident of winning Permatang Pauh seat

Winner of most pompous election headline goes to The Star with this doozy:
By-election Battle Royale

At least they didn't use the word 'confident'.

Back to the odds. I confidently predict that Anwar will win this one.

Why? Because his opponent's too old to be a certain someone's son-in-law.

Second - since the government insists on doing a repeat performance of the sodomy charge, they'll probably want to wait until Anwar wins the Permatang Pauh seat. So it'll be even more satisfying to clap him in chains.

Third - he's got Tun M's backhanded belief that he'll win with this statement of overwhelming confidence:

"I think Arif Shah will not lose as badly as other candidates before him or other candidates in his place." quoth the venerable one to The Star.

Yes, Anwar will win, BN's 'Cemerlang' Rempits will likely also make an appearance, a certain DPM will be pleased that we're forgetting about certain Mongolian-obsessed bloggers in the ruckus and Saiful swear-on-the-holy-book will be buying boy-love manga from the nearest bookstore to ensure his upcoming testimony is convincing.

I don't smoke.

But I don't condemn my friends who do. I won't buy you cigarettes when I go to the duty-free but if we're traveling together, you can take my cigarette allocation.

Not that I'll be using it, anyway.

Life is hard. Dying is easy. If you think nicotine will take off the edge of how miserable life can be - that daily grind of working, of suffering cruel, stupid people (politicians especially)-then I won't begrudge you your cancer sticks.

I don't smoke because it doesn't do anything for me. When I was little, I used to be plagued with chest congestion. I remember nights crying myself to sleep in pain and fear, because ohgodohgodithurtsmommyican'tbreathe. And my mother could do nothing but rub my chest with Vicks, give me warm drinks and tell me it'll all be fine in the morning, just try to go to sleep now. She still has kittens over me; probably due to my spending more time in a sick bed than outdoors.

So voluntarily clogging up my chest with smoke does not appeal.

Or try getting viral bronchitis. It feels like a wicked witch's turned your lungs into lead, turning even rolling onto your side an exercise in sheer masochism. But it made breathing effortlessly seem an unappreciated miracle.

I've puffed a few cigarettes before I joined the cast of Refugee:Images. Smoking makes singing harder - it bites at your stamina, dries out your throat and irreversibly changes the tonal quality of your voice.

And this isn't a warning to those who already smoke. You already know what it does and you've made your peace with it. I pray cancer doesn't get you. But the ones just starting out or thinking of it - get a hobby. Spend your money on better things like a good book. Good food.

Because you don't want to be in a hospital bed at night thinking ohgodohgodithurtsican'tbreathe.

This obsession over dieting, weight loss and exercise in modern society annoys me.

"Oh if I just lose XX pounds, I'll be happy!"

Then there are the women whose legs you could break with two fingers moaning "I'm faaaaat!" You know you're not fat, I know you're not fat, so stop insulting our collective intelligence. Wait, you don't have any.

The big women I know don't usually draw attention to their larger size. They're fine with it (for the most part), except when it comes to that dreaded activity - shopping for larger sizes in Malaysia.

I even got depressed shopping in Hong Kong where dress and shoe sizes were so small, I wondered if the entire population had been replaced by a colony of Munchkins.

So why am I on a two meal replacements a day diet? Well, it's because I spent last year gaining 10kg from playing too much WoW and treating Coke and potato chips as important food groups. And I'm recuperating from a hormonal-related illness and am too fatigued to prepare proper healthy food so nutritious shakes it is. The only proper meal I have a day is lunch while breakfast and dinner comprise with powder supplements mixed with skim milk.

"Why not just exerciselah?" I have too little physical strength right now to heave around all the extra kilos I gained last year. So like it or not, some of that weight has to come off first. Shed a couple of kilos of extra fat, gradually add exercise into the mix (light hatha yoga is all I can manage at the moment) and hopefully I will weigh 5 kilos less by Christmas. Shedding 1kg or 2.2lbs a month is a manageable goal, I think. I don't hold with overly rapid weight loss - I've seen a certain Sultan's wife who is gorgeous in pictures but up close is haggard. Her skin is stretched so tight over her jaw, you can already tell what she'll look like at 40 - jowly. I think I'll just shoot for 55kg and stay there.

"Why not embrace your size?" Because to be honest, what I look like at 55kg and what I look like now at 65kg, there's just no contest. I'm not big-boned - my frame really isn't suited to carry extra weight. But I wouldn't want to look like a toothpick either.

And I'm blogging this so I'll be committed to losing weight instead of just being satisfied with the fact my bust is currently awesome. 34E for the win! I'll miss those when I lose weight, but I won't miss warily eying dresses I like and hope I can get out of them.

I prayed yesterday for guidance. For years I wanted to know what I was, who I was and where I should go.
"Tell me my path, Lord. I am so tired of walking in the wilderness." And now I understand. It all makes sense after looking back.
The gist of my job is to tell stories, to tell them well and to tell stories that matter. My way is the storyteller's.
I am a storyteller.

I've said time and time again that our blogosphere has a dearth of quality, original content. My search for a credible, original tech voice certainly proves it.

Was looking for a tech blogger to work with me on a project. So I trawled PPS, Googled, ask for referrals from people in the know and came to these conclusions about a lot of so-called local tech bloggers:

1. Half can't spell. Or construct paragraphs without at least three grammatical errors.
2. Half can't choose original blog templates and instead copy their compatriots'. Same subject matter, same blog template, what is going to differentiate you from everyone else?
3. Some think blogging is copying press releases or linking to them.
4. Half copy another blog's writing style and come off sounding like advertorials.

And instead of celebrating technology, reveling in innovation, proving useful sources, 70 percent of them are doing it just for the money.

Part of that is because blogging can be a potential revenue stream. Doesn't help that paid bloggers share the love with other bloggers and talk about how so-and-so ad company paid them XXX money for an advertorial. "Wah, you know so-and-so just sits at home making money from blogging one ah?"

And they all want to get on the blogging bandwagon. They all feel entitled to get paid ludicrous amounts of money to say the exact same thing another blogger is saying.

No, you can't throw stones at me because hey, look, no ads on my site. Not now, probably never will be.

You guys have it good right now but how long is the cash cow going to last? Seriously, you can't call a blog much of a blog if it's nothing but paid advertorials one after another.

Now, there's another kind of paid blogger I do respect. The ones who are hired to write for big networks like b5media who get paid per post. No, not to pimp stuff on PayPerPost but write actual news on niche subjects, getting paid for relevant and read-worthy stuff.

Like the guys on WoW Insider. Or Engadget. Or my personal favourite, The Register. People on those big network sites are paid anything from US$5 to $15 per post. Posts that reflect news or opinions, not just pimping advertisers.

Tech blogger Robert Scoble has ads but not ZOMG A MILLION OF THEM WHEREVER THEY MAY FIT. 

So please, Malaysian bloggers, don't just read each other's posts and ape them. Try coming up with your own ideas, your own niche and not some SEO crap.

This is a public service message from someone sick of all the crap on PPS.

I held you in the palm of my hand,
Blood of my blood, piece of my other half.
I did not know your name, nor hear your voice
And could only imagine what might have been
You are lost to me now and I can only grieve
Wondering if I should blame myself or
give thanks instead for providence
But you are gone
And all I have is an empty space that waits
for you to come again.

A husband, to me, is something optional. What I do want, though, is kids.

If my situation was more stable I'd like being a single mother. But adoption in this country is tricky business and more so if you're unmarried.

It's a scary, dangerous world now to raise a child. So few now remember the poor children whose names and faces were plastered in the papers not too long ago. Children kidnapped, abused and murdered.

We can do nothing for the children who are gone from our sight and from our arms, but we can do something for the ones right here. To that end, a Protect and Save the Children Awareness Talk will be held at the Bangsar Lutheran Church on the 16th of August. No, it's got nothing to do with religion but about what should be important to all Malaysians - the protection and welfare of our children.

For more information, go to www.psthechildren.org.my or visit Pastor Sivin Kit's blog at http://sivinkit.net/archives/4239

The Sony Malaysia Media Achievement Awards 2007 results are out...and I made 2nd runner-up, Best Print Category (English).

The tech media circle in Malaysia is so small, I knew all the winners so the ceremony was a raucous blast. I didn't feel bad losing to Jo or Christy - I see their stuff often enough in the papers to know that they're really good. Yes, I should count myself lucky to have such peers. Though we were all rather amused that it was girl power all the way in our category in a traditionally male-dominated media niche.

For posterity's sake, I uploaded the piece that won me 3rd place. It's one of my favourites of all the things I've written; I remember having a lot of fun with it and the narrative portion flowing easily with the facts I cobbled together.

Download for_your_id_only.pdf

The money was nice and the voucher quickly spent on Bluetooth headphones, rechargeable batteries and a memory card for the significant other. But of course, the most important thing is the award looks mighty fine on the resume. I got some flak for my last award (MediaConnect Asia's awards) with some anonymous git saying that 'anyone could win an award on the Internet'. The SOMAs were judged by my peers at the Malaysian Press Institute (MPI), which at least lends more credibility to the win.

At the end of the day, accolades are well and good but that doesn't mean I can rest on my laurels and crow about how 'good' I am. I am beginning to get restless, though, and wondering whether it's time to move on someplace more conducive to bettering the quality of my work. Malaysia's local media scene yields too much to advertisers' beck and call. Should I take a paycut and join a local paper or attempt foreign shores?

Lots to ponder.

(Nifty cartoon courtesy of BenGallagher.com.)

"We don't need Astro anymore...our papers are more interesting!" so said a friend yesterday and I'd have to agree.

Instead of looking at their weaknesses, or learning how to serve, our government instead:

1. Arrests Anwar for sodomy. Again.
2. Arrests bloggers
3. Blame, harasses and claims they will monitor bloggers

The Bar Council's forum on conversion in Malaysia was just supposed to be a dialogue. But instead, it soon descended into a fracas where eloquent locals called for the pigs to go home to China.

What an insult to bacon-packers everywhere. Bacon, ham, luncheon meat don't necessarily originate from China since not all pigs were born, bred and taught to attend dialogues there.

Farish Noor defends discriminated-against pigs everywhere with this interesting post:
"No, this Babi will not balik China"

Who are the real 'pigs' here? I like pigs. They live simple lives - eat, shit, procreate, sleep.

They don't accept bribes or setup roadblocks to prevent demonstrations/make themselves pocket money.

They don't blow up Mongolian women with hand grenades.

They don't lie today, and have The Star prove them liars the very next day on the Front Page.

And pigs at least produce crispy bacon.

I suspect if you roast their human equivalent, all you'd get is stinking gas and a lot of hot air.

"I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear." ~ Joan Didion

Every day, I skim the headlines on Google News. And today, for some reason, there were over 1,500 articles about the passing of this man:

Why, in the scheme of things, did Alexander Solzhenitsyn matter? His reverent obituaries tell of a man who loved literature to the point he ended up creating it. Thrown into the Russian Gulag, he uncovered a secret, dank world and instead of shutting up to stay out from there, he felt it his moral duty to write about it.

A reader once wrote him thus: "No matter how things are going, we have always felt better when we have a Turgenev, a Tolstoy, a Chekhov. It is not enough for us for a writer to be a good writer, even a great writer. He has to be someone we can love."

I feel both inspired by his example, and incredibly depressed. How do you love the written word and its creation but not more than you love mankind, or truth? In Malaysia, most would call him a fool. Why write a critically lauded work if all it gets you is exile and not lucre? Why not write something safer, something with bankable movie rights? Something that won't get the ISA on you?

And I think I understand now why writing, at the moment, for me feels like walking across the desert in shoes made of brick. Because I had nothing worth writing about.

I think I do now.

I really haven't been motivated to post much lately. Blogging seems to be a danger to your health, your sanity, your credibility and your reputation. Especially if you move in the cliquish Malaysian blogosphere.

What irks me sometimes is the assumption that just because you read someone's blog, you know the blogger.

No, you don't.

A blog shows certain facets of a person. But it's not an accurate representation of the whole of a person.

Don't you think a blog could just be an elaborate fabricated facade? The cute, pink, with hearts and bunnies blog template might mask the heart of an evil bunny killer who laughs manically at books like The Bunny Suicides.

OK, the Bunny Suicides makes me laugh maniacally, but that's besides the point.

It's just the nature of our blogosphere. We like it. We like playing judge and jury, sentencing virtual strangers to the noose. Giving them neither the benefit of the doubt, nor the ability to defend themselves. And then we laugh at the destruction, we jeer at their anguish, we take pride in their tattered reputations.

Makes me just want to hop over to Livejournal, make all my entries friends-only and never bother making my thoughts or feelings public.

I guess all I can do is stick to what this site's about. Earnestly saying what I think or feel, and not pander to the circus. It's annoyed me that I've had lurkers visiting in the hope that I will stir some new crap to entertain them with.

Was talking to Irene about it and she agreed that this constant caution, the fear that someone might make too much out of what we post, rather dulls the urge to blog. I'm still here. Still writing. Still caring about what I write. And maybe, just maybe, that's all that matters.