An everlasting end

If the Mona Lisa was produced today, will it be remembered tomorrow?

I am comedian and writer. Suffice to say that my mainstay is selling either my talent or ideas.

I still recall, as I was starting out, I wake up every day hoping to create greatness - an original idea so simple and brilliant that my clients can or have reasons to remember me for. This was a time before the democratization of creativity through the use of the Internet via various channels like 9Gag, Imgur, Facebook, Twitter and what have you. Note, I did mention I'm a comedian and these channels are within my own discourse.

Today, we see a constant flow of 'creativity' on these channels. They may not be original but because these channels reach out to so many, authentication and originality suddenly become irrelevant, and sometimes, even unnecessary.

Today, creativity works in tandem with speed - it's not about who says it anymore, it's about who said it first. An idea one might have today, might be someone else's tomorrow - all it takes is to get beaten to posting the idea up on the channels available.

Today, it is much more difficult to judge the quality of one's work. There's almost no cannons, judges or who gets to say whose quality of work is better, not mention whether the work is of quality. Quality is now judged through quantification - the more 'Likes', the more views, the more 'retweets', the better the quality. We can even say that quality is now all about popularity. If an unknown artist's work has more 'Likes', 'retweets' or 'views' than, say, Da Vinci's Mona Lisa, who is to say that this unknown artist's work is not of quality?

If Da Vinci was still alive today and he reveals the Mona Lisa today, will his work be appreciated as much. Will his work even be remembered tomorrow?

Back in the day, creativity, talent and even popularity had a gauge. Does the artist have skillful brush work? Can the singer hit a particular note? Can a bassist play a particular bassline without getting finger cramps?

Today, whether or not an artist knows how to hold a brush, whether or not a singer can even sing... speed of creativity is the KEY. We produce and digest so many ideas everyday that there is no time to truly appreciate one's creations anymore.

Having said that, allow me to return to this blog's title -  An everlasting end. In my opinion, within the domain of love songs - we have so many songs about love, whether it's good or bad, there won't be another song album that can be named Everlasting Love Songs anymore.

Creativity will never last as long. It will only get replaced. It's just a matter of speed.  

Is it the face?

"Hey, what's that?", I would randomly ask someone, pointing to one's face and, before he or she could digest what was asked, I would then say, "Oh, nothing... it's just your face."

Well, if you can't smell something sarcastic already, then, then you might not think I'm mean and I would think that you're slow. (See, didn't get it again!??) But sometimes, I think it all backfires, you know, being mean, sarcastic and too honest while those feeling hurt are just too sissy. For instance, today.

In my job line as a writer for a plastic surgery magazine, interviewing plastic surgeons is part and parcel. But, that's the fun side of the job; you learn a lot of interesting things along the way and makes you constantly think, "Hey, I can do this for the rest of my life!"

However, its the people I meet in clinics that irks me. They're clients of the doctors. I know this for a fact as they look, well, aesthetically enhanced (at some areas).

First, they'll take a glance at me; this boyish looking chap, sitting there waiting. And they'll turn away. Confused, they'll turn for a second look. This is when we'll make eye contact and in that moment, I can deduce, using my pre-cognitive senses, that, without a doubt, in their mind, they're saying something along the lines of - "Look at him, I would do something too if I look like that."

Man... maybe in the later part of my writing career, I would be able to coax surgeons to gimme a makeover. But until then, I would have to endure those odd glances and uncomfortable stares. I wonder if I'm alone in this, being ugly and over-subservient to pessimistic thoughts every time someone steals a glance...

All thought out and no place to show...

The brain is a wonderful... err, thing. Almost our whole life, we think that we know how our brains work but we don't. At least for me.

At first I thought, "Having a mundane/redundant job would rob me of my precious creative juices (if any) so it'll be great if I can find a job that taps the creative side of me (if there is)."

So I waited. And waited. And waited. And when chance came, I signed up as a writer for a local magazine. The job did tap and demand a bit of creativity but soon, I realized, the magazine owes me my creativity.

I'm thinking a lot more nonsense now. These nonsense pinball in my cranium 24/7 and adrenaline builds up from the friction, fuelling my sleepless nights. It's like I'm going schizo or at least, harbour the traits.

Despite that, I think it's a good idea to chuck these nonsense into cyberspace - the digital fixed deposit for nonsense. Here goes...

Weird product taglines Beastiality: In dog we thrust.

Weird video games Need for speedos

Weird porn video names Clithanger, Womb Raider, In Diana Jones, Meat Joe Black

Crap. Now you know what I think of half the time... better stop here.

Pink is the new black is the new pink is the...

Just before the last corner to my lady's abode, I was forced to shimmy my car past a horde of very young, very boyish and very kampung primary schoolers. I can't help but stare at them and besides wondering what they'll grow up into, I realized those kids wore their eyes out its sockets in admiration of another kid's bicycle. Why? Coz that manual chopper boast a newly painted coat of baby pink. And before I could lower my jaw and switch on my dumbfound-face, two more much senior kids approached the group, each with a cigarette sticking out of their pie holes, each looking really badass-with-the-chains-and-shit and each manoeuvring their own baby pink bicycles. WTFOMFGROFL!

There is something about this neighbourhood that I have yet to understand but at that point, all I can think about is the evolution of the colour pink.

Its a chicken or egg question really. Pink started off as an innocent colour with no representations tagged to it but is it the colour that represents girly-ness or does girly-ness represent pink? I don't when that representation started but it didn't go very well with boys and guy-ish men. Back then, the guy-ish of men would accuse pink wearing males as gay.

That delusion lasted for quite awhile before the men of today started growing the balls to don something pink. The excuse behind this phenomenon sounds something like 'men who are afraid to wear pink are just insecure with the their own sexuality'. This great conversation of mankind spurred burly and stocky men to turn pink from a trend to mainstream fashion. But what's important is that, now, pink represents the colour of the man of men! Man who knows what they are inside and won't flinch over what they wear on the outside.

But somehow, the natural vicissitudes of cultural assimilation, which has something to do with how one defines certain representations, the colour pink somehow ends up on the bicycles of our nation's hopeful 'hopelesses', still representing the size of their male egos.

What the pink!

I hope thongs don't follow the same fate though...

Hypocrites, stereotypes dan ...

The days following this Ahmad dude’s audacious remarks in which he branded the Malaysian Chinese community as ‘penumpangs’ (passengers), many has come forth to express their displeasure and called the ISA to take its course.

What an audacious bunch of hypocrites!

These are the very same ones that, on a normal day, would pounce on every chance to bring down the unbounded will of the ISA. And now, when something like this happens (not forgetting that, once again, a political figure or opinion leader is the one RESPONSIBLE for fanning racial flames), these hypocrites turn to the minority’s public enemy number one.

If the people of this country want to put an end to this nerve-racking long-running national issue, why can’t they discuss it out in the open? For years, Malaysians have suffered the stain and a nameless fear resonated by the events of 1969, and now, with less than 12 years to ‘Wawasan 2020’, it is a joke that Malaysia and her people haven’t the maturity and the willingness to bury this infamous past as one nation.

We should be discussing each other’s stereotypes and incite strong conversations about the ‘penumpangs’, ‘pemabuks’ and ‘pemalas’ of this country. Let it be a test of maturity for Malaysia and her people, a dare to go to the brink of when one faction lends the first punch and think ‘Do I really want to behave like my immature and racially fuelled forefathers?’

Perhaps it’s due to the stereotyping mentality of Malaysians; imposing and subjecting our own thoughts about other races. I mean, what does the words ‘penumpang’, ‘pemabuk’ and ‘pemalas’ mean without hooking a specific race to it. I merely mentioned those 3 words to prove that we are all racist and I am quite sure that any who reads this would have hooked a specific race on those words. I would have to as well.

Being stereotypical about other races is quite natural. However, Malaysia has come along way and racial tolerance among her people must be test or probed before acceptance can materialize.

Sigh. I remember way back in school I used to shout ‘Oi Melayu!’ and my Malay mate would respond with an ‘Oi Cina!’ After that we would curse about each others race and have a good laugh about it. My point is, I feel that our generation don’t give a fuck about racial differences, let alone incite racial tension. It is our political figures and opinion leaders who keep reminding us all that we have to be careful of what we say or do with regards to race. Indirectly, isn’t this inciting racial tension?

Well, based on Malaysian history, we Chinese are a bit of a ‘penumpang’, but we did our part in giving directions to the ‘pemandu’. But I think foreign conglomerates like the McDonalds and the Nikes, are the real ‘penumpangs’; killing off small local businesses and enterprises as well as hogging our shop lots. Unless this pervasive phenomenon is in-line with our political figures’ and opinion leaders’ stereotype on progress.

*Apologies for any grammatical errors. No time to read through...*

Profile VS Education: Which will get you a job?

I was supposed to play futsal but somehow the organizer got sucked in by the lure of the 'King of Fruits'.

Right now, I'm left with this blog after gorging myself with my after-work necessities: dinner, meeting my girlfriend, rest, a bit of wrestling and the Olympics. I didn't really think I had a topic in mind but there's something bugging me and it sounds like this - Profile or Education: Which will get you a job?

Well, I have a general interest in writing and content creation. Recently, I used my academic certs to great effect by securing a job at a PR firm. (OK, maybe secure is not a right word at the moment.) After a month, I'm beginning to feel that PR is not my mug of beer and the human element behind the job is pretty taxing for a non-people-person guy like me. Day after day, I feel that my creative juices are drying up with the limited avenues, normally marred by the fact that there only 24 hours in a day, after accepting this 9-to-6 job. But with credentials in Mass Communications/Int'l Studies, where else can I go?

I could fall back on my profile that 'boasts' a handful of college plays that I've acted in & directed, a few 'TV Pendidikan' series I was involved in, around 18 short videos I wrote, acted in and directed for www.gua.com.my (Media Prima's New Media wing) as well as a full-length movie I acted in. Of course there is always the question, "So you have these in your profile... but how good are your stuff?"

Hmmm, I think that question can be easily answered with an academic cert of the specific fields but I always believe that life can be changed if one has the right connections looking over their shoulder. BUUUUUUT, if you're not that of a people-person, you'll probably be over looked.

That's it, I'M FUCTED! Or am I?