The other day my brother asked me about the MSN display picture I used - an Oriental-looking girl with brownish hair smiling into the camera, presumably curious about her identity and if this were the face of a 'family potential'. Akhem, suffice to say it ended as a disappointment as I explained that it were that of a pretty talented member of a popular Korean girl group called Girls Generation (SNSD).
I don't quite remember how I came to know SNSD except that it was through another group, the even more popular Wonder Girls. My ex-colleague and I were then looking at a bunch of Youtube videos whilst waiting for time to pass before our weekly ritual of mamak-football and came upon a group of traffic policemen doing the famous 'Tell Me' dance with a kid. SNSD were part of the guests to the show and via some snippets of their music and video, I got curious and began searching for other videos.
As with most Korean girl groups they sang standard fare bubblegum pop with occassional sprinkles of R&B stuff (with the exception of the very talented SeeYa) but one voice from the nine of the members caught my attention: it was slightly huskier but a lot more powerful, standing out as a big contrast to the rest of the softer sounding ones.
A quick research on Google Images and Wikipedia revealed her to be Kim Taeyeon 김태연, the group leader. Further listening to the rest their music confirmed my opinion of her as the brightest star in the group of nine. Perhaps she's not the best looking of them all but is no way average by comparison and the talent in singing simply blew the rest of the competition away with perhaps two others coming close whom can sing pretty well themselves - American-born Jessica 정수연 and SeoHyun 서주현.
What actually impressed me the most was when she did two solos songs, both for Korean dramas that I've never bothered to watch. The first was If (만약에 Mananghe) made for the drama Hong Gil Dong 쾌도 홍길동. Read the comments at Youtube to see how impressed everybody was with her solo debut.
Then came a polished effort from the drama that is currently being shown on 8TV Malaysia - Beethoven Virus - a song called Can You Hear Me (들리나요 Deullinayo).
(Funnily enough I heard this song playing whilst my cousin and his girlfriend were watching next door, with me in the toilet doing some log export business...)
Here's looking forward to more in the future.
25 October 2009
13 October 2009
Meow meow
Like most residential neighbourhoods out there you have cats. They are either pets owned by the house owners or strays that roam the streets. You can identify some of them by how they look - those with full hair of fur or look generally healthy normally have the care of masters or mistresses, whilst the more 'war-wearied', especially those with stubs for tails might normally be strays or feral, having been in fights with other tomcats or even dogs.
There's a trio of kitties that usually hang around the vicinity of my area - a white Persian with blue eyes and an orange mackerel tabby, both belong to the house opposite mine. Both seem to like to hang around the pillar of the gate, looking intently at this large furless ape and getting ready to scoot at any sign of danger, even if this ape was opening the gate and walking away. The Persian had a bell on its neck with blue collar, similar to the one on Doraemon, enhancing the azure shade of its crystaline eyes. The orange one had nothing else on except its own fur which was just as lush and healthy as its white friend.
Before the owners lined the bottom half of the gate with chicken wire the tabby would normally use my sandal as its favourite sitting place during rainy days, resulting in a rather... wet, squishy and not to mention warm sensation when I step onto it. Yeah, it feels as bad as it sounds.
The other night the tabby sat outside its owner's house, mewing sadly whilst sitting with a slight hunch, glancing at me as I walked by and then back at the house again. I wondered if it was calling for its friend or at the house owner to let it in. I was tempted to go and give it a hand - I actually stood there looking at it for a good minute or so before thinking about how it might be real thirsty or hungry with the feeding saucer in the car porch just over the other side. Then again I resisted the temptation go pick up and deposit the pussycat over the gate.
(Strangely enough if it could climb its way out, surely the cat can climb its own way in? The next day it was inside the gates, looking back at with its eyes heavily lidded like the average cat)
There's that grey mackerel tabby that I gave the nickname of 'Tiger' for the reason that it was pretty imposing - the skull of the cat itself is probably 10% or so larger than that of an average cat and its torso proportionally larger. Unlike the other two, Tiger was fearless - it doesn't flinch when I walk by, walking imperiously at the side without even acknowledging me. At times it would sit below the car for warmth (or shade on hot days), movingly leisurely away only after I start the engine. It carries the brooding look that matches its stub of a tail, like the patriarch of the pride of kitties.
Which is my favourite?
The Persian is a little too trim and scaredy (...) to me. Sure it's beautiful, my housemate once dub it 'Snow White' for the pureness of the fur but I find that to be a problem seeing that it would probably be a waste to get it dirty. Furthermore, it runs away at the slightest hint of me coming close, making the problem of approaching it well difficult. Still, its nice to see from afar, especially when its blue eyes sparkle in the light.
Tiger is out of the question as it has the look of 'mess with me and you will die in your sleep', the non-chalance of the alley's boss cat. I could actually imagine its fangs embedded into my hands if I as much as touch its ears. Still, it might not be a pretty as the Persian but I admire its aura of strength. From a perspective it actually reminds me of myself - I happen to look like an arrogant bastard to everybody at first impression, and I don't get fussed easily by the simplest and common of things in life unless it happens to be important. I had my fair share of life's scars like everybody does and appreciates Tiger not running away at my presence like the other two. It definitely doesn't come to rub around your legs like other friendlier cats would which mirrors what I feel about being territorial.
Which brings us to the orange tabby - we shall call him (or her) Orange. Orange is a small balance of both - its fur is a flamboyant mix of bright orange and calm white. Whilst its still pretty jumpy, it would actually sit at the pillar without moving until I actually get too close, normally staying there (eyes trained on this big threat) if I walk away. There were times that I would just stand there at the gate, locking eyes with Orange, wondering what it was thinking.
I would love to have my own Orange but I wouldn't know if I can care for it as well as Orange's owner does - the last cat we had for pets were two black tuxedo cats that look like Sylvester (minus the yellow canary) and all they didn't really need any help (they scoot off for the day, returns for meals, disappears again) but I'm certain for it to grow healthy with a lush coat of fur would require more than just normal food - grooming, visits to the vet, pet food etc - all of which I'm not sure I'm capable of giving.
As for now all I can do is to look at Orange from over the gate, admiring and envying its owner for having a furball to dig their fingers in and stroke, hearing the sweet sound of purring as it lays down lazily on the couch watching soap opera (or whatever junk that's on the telly nowadays). Sure, a cat might not give you undivided attention like a dog does but that's how I like it - it goes and entertain itself, comes back occassionally to renew the master-pet relationship - never clingy.
Purrrrrrrr...
I can almost see Mom smirking and saying that it would be better to go focus my affection at homo sapien females instead of freaking fur on paws, but hey, you can't hurry lurve...
-
Sorry to hear about Mawi, Dik. You'll get a new pussycat soon enough.
There's a trio of kitties that usually hang around the vicinity of my area - a white Persian with blue eyes and an orange mackerel tabby, both belong to the house opposite mine. Both seem to like to hang around the pillar of the gate, looking intently at this large furless ape and getting ready to scoot at any sign of danger, even if this ape was opening the gate and walking away. The Persian had a bell on its neck with blue collar, similar to the one on Doraemon, enhancing the azure shade of its crystaline eyes. The orange one had nothing else on except its own fur which was just as lush and healthy as its white friend.
Before the owners lined the bottom half of the gate with chicken wire the tabby would normally use my sandal as its favourite sitting place during rainy days, resulting in a rather... wet, squishy and not to mention warm sensation when I step onto it. Yeah, it feels as bad as it sounds.
The other night the tabby sat outside its owner's house, mewing sadly whilst sitting with a slight hunch, glancing at me as I walked by and then back at the house again. I wondered if it was calling for its friend or at the house owner to let it in. I was tempted to go and give it a hand - I actually stood there looking at it for a good minute or so before thinking about how it might be real thirsty or hungry with the feeding saucer in the car porch just over the other side. Then again I resisted the temptation go pick up and deposit the pussycat over the gate.
(Strangely enough if it could climb its way out, surely the cat can climb its own way in? The next day it was inside the gates, looking back at with its eyes heavily lidded like the average cat)
There's that grey mackerel tabby that I gave the nickname of 'Tiger' for the reason that it was pretty imposing - the skull of the cat itself is probably 10% or so larger than that of an average cat and its torso proportionally larger. Unlike the other two, Tiger was fearless - it doesn't flinch when I walk by, walking imperiously at the side without even acknowledging me. At times it would sit below the car for warmth (or shade on hot days), movingly leisurely away only after I start the engine. It carries the brooding look that matches its stub of a tail, like the patriarch of the pride of kitties.
Which is my favourite?
The Persian is a little too trim and scaredy (...) to me. Sure it's beautiful, my housemate once dub it 'Snow White' for the pureness of the fur but I find that to be a problem seeing that it would probably be a waste to get it dirty. Furthermore, it runs away at the slightest hint of me coming close, making the problem of approaching it well difficult. Still, its nice to see from afar, especially when its blue eyes sparkle in the light.
Tiger is out of the question as it has the look of 'mess with me and you will die in your sleep', the non-chalance of the alley's boss cat. I could actually imagine its fangs embedded into my hands if I as much as touch its ears. Still, it might not be a pretty as the Persian but I admire its aura of strength. From a perspective it actually reminds me of myself - I happen to look like an arrogant bastard to everybody at first impression, and I don't get fussed easily by the simplest and common of things in life unless it happens to be important. I had my fair share of life's scars like everybody does and appreciates Tiger not running away at my presence like the other two. It definitely doesn't come to rub around your legs like other friendlier cats would which mirrors what I feel about being territorial.
Which brings us to the orange tabby - we shall call him (or her) Orange. Orange is a small balance of both - its fur is a flamboyant mix of bright orange and calm white. Whilst its still pretty jumpy, it would actually sit at the pillar without moving until I actually get too close, normally staying there (eyes trained on this big threat) if I walk away. There were times that I would just stand there at the gate, locking eyes with Orange, wondering what it was thinking.
I would love to have my own Orange but I wouldn't know if I can care for it as well as Orange's owner does - the last cat we had for pets were two black tuxedo cats that look like Sylvester (minus the yellow canary) and all they didn't really need any help (they scoot off for the day, returns for meals, disappears again) but I'm certain for it to grow healthy with a lush coat of fur would require more than just normal food - grooming, visits to the vet, pet food etc - all of which I'm not sure I'm capable of giving.
As for now all I can do is to look at Orange from over the gate, admiring and envying its owner for having a furball to dig their fingers in and stroke, hearing the sweet sound of purring as it lays down lazily on the couch watching soap opera (or whatever junk that's on the telly nowadays). Sure, a cat might not give you undivided attention like a dog does but that's how I like it - it goes and entertain itself, comes back occassionally to renew the master-pet relationship - never clingy.
Purrrrrrrr...
I can almost see Mom smirking and saying that it would be better to go focus my affection at homo sapien females instead of freaking fur on paws, but hey, you can't hurry lurve...
-
Sorry to hear about Mawi, Dik. You'll get a new pussycat soon enough.
11 October 2009
Starry, starry night
One of the things I like to do when I was a kid was to climb out of the room window onto the roof just to sit down and look at the stars. Back then the are outside the back of the house was secondary forest of which some bit of the area were cleared to plant stuff. My parents and the neighbours spent their free time planting vegetables and fruits, most notably banana trees and yam.
The lack of artificial lighting would mean that the whole area would be in darkness as there were no buildings within view except for the medical lab located long the road - the area were not as developed then as now. Whenever the moon is high up in the skies of a clear night the area would be bathed in serene bluish-white lunar radiance.
My favourite though, is when the curtain of night is punctured with countless stars, their faint celestial lights blinking from the heavens. Being on the roof gave me a sweeping view of the sky, vaguely lid into a shade of dark blue.
I often ponder about life then - me myself and I, and the Universe. The stars in the skies got me thinking about my place in this thing called Creation. I am such a small thing, so minute that by comparison to everything out there I'm such an insignificant speck. Line us all up and I wouldn't even be microscopic - I'd be invisible. Have me terminated and it won't look any different.
It's funny when you think that (existence of aliens non-withstanding), this little speck of fragile carbon-based life form is the most intelligent thing in the Universe, potentially (read that as many times as possible until you get my angle) the only living thing out there that is sentient. And if that much is true, then we're truly special indeed. I am special, you are special, he is special, she is special.
So special that sometimes one would gladly give up the world for the hope of achieving or to keep something as they were. The police put their lives in the line of fire to ensure that others don't have to. A mother would shield her children with her own back from the upcoming danger. A brother would gladly give up his food to feed a younger sister. A soldier would gladly run into the thick of battle in hope that what he does will keep his wife and family safe.
As I look up to ancient illuminations from globes of fire that might no longer be there anymore, there's a humbling feeling that as humans, we're not the mightiest - a single comet hurtling dirty ice to earth would annihilate most if not all of mankind - but we have the ability to try, because we can. A beaver would continue to build dams regardless of what CNN reports of incoming cataclysm, dung beetles would continue to do their part is breaking down compost, whales would continue to nurse their cow in the sea.
Pity I couldn't relive the habits of a childhood anymore of climbing out the window to the roof - an incident of burglary in our neighbour's house got everybody spooked that metal grills were installed to bar any kind of entrance (and exit) without keys.
Furthermore houses were now built in the are that used to be the secondary forest - so more lights now fill the night than before, making it all the harder to see anything so vague in the night sky.
The lack of artificial lighting would mean that the whole area would be in darkness as there were no buildings within view except for the medical lab located long the road - the area were not as developed then as now. Whenever the moon is high up in the skies of a clear night the area would be bathed in serene bluish-white lunar radiance.
My favourite though, is when the curtain of night is punctured with countless stars, their faint celestial lights blinking from the heavens. Being on the roof gave me a sweeping view of the sky, vaguely lid into a shade of dark blue.
I often ponder about life then - me myself and I, and the Universe. The stars in the skies got me thinking about my place in this thing called Creation. I am such a small thing, so minute that by comparison to everything out there I'm such an insignificant speck. Line us all up and I wouldn't even be microscopic - I'd be invisible. Have me terminated and it won't look any different.
It's funny when you think that (existence of aliens non-withstanding), this little speck of fragile carbon-based life form is the most intelligent thing in the Universe, potentially (read that as many times as possible until you get my angle) the only living thing out there that is sentient. And if that much is true, then we're truly special indeed. I am special, you are special, he is special, she is special.
So special that sometimes one would gladly give up the world for the hope of achieving or to keep something as they were. The police put their lives in the line of fire to ensure that others don't have to. A mother would shield her children with her own back from the upcoming danger. A brother would gladly give up his food to feed a younger sister. A soldier would gladly run into the thick of battle in hope that what he does will keep his wife and family safe.
As I look up to ancient illuminations from globes of fire that might no longer be there anymore, there's a humbling feeling that as humans, we're not the mightiest - a single comet hurtling dirty ice to earth would annihilate most if not all of mankind - but we have the ability to try, because we can. A beaver would continue to build dams regardless of what CNN reports of incoming cataclysm, dung beetles would continue to do their part is breaking down compost, whales would continue to nurse their cow in the sea.
Pity I couldn't relive the habits of a childhood anymore of climbing out the window to the roof - an incident of burglary in our neighbour's house got everybody spooked that metal grills were installed to bar any kind of entrance (and exit) without keys.
Furthermore houses were now built in the are that used to be the secondary forest - so more lights now fill the night than before, making it all the harder to see anything so vague in the night sky.
 |
| "There was a complaint from next door about you standing on the roof". |
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