Sunday, August 22, 2004


I’m listening to Frou Frou’s Let Go. It is so haunting, and so ethereal, it’s surreal. I got hooked on it when I watched the Garden State trailer, after someone on a message board said that the trailer was “addictive”. I think it’s mainly due in part to the soundtrack. It’s really cool, and somewhat sarcastic. Sort of like me, I guess. It’s just too bad that the old fogies back at the National Censorship Board probably won’t let the movie get shown here, seeing as how it’s about a clinically-depressed guy, facing his first 24 hours since childhood without medication with an epileptic girl. A pretty girl, but epileptic nonetheless.

I don’t really know how to describe my current niche of favourite songs. On one hand, there’s punk (think the Strokes and all those other guys with the, like, totally rad 70’s resurrection thing going on with their style), but recently, no thanks to A Walk to Remember on HBO, I have tapped into my more mellow side. I’ve started listening to Mandy Moore (aah! Eek! But honestly, she is a decent actress) from the soundtrack of the movie. I have even begun to dig Switchfoot’s version of Only Hope, that song she sings in the play, which prompts Shane West to kiss her (I always close my eyes at this moment due to common courtesy – NOT!). It's so sweet, and it never fails to emotionally strangle me from the inside.

Any song that can do that to me deserves a Nobel prize. But I digress.

Like I said, I am in a sentimental phase right now. Indie loving and all that. And like I said, I blame Hollywood. Couldn’t they have just made a decent movie, without having to slowly destroy all that I have come to stand for, i.e. the emotional invalid amongst us?

Which brings me to my current obsession. No, not with grammar, though Ms. Mee Nee, our Language Awareness lecturer has been scaring me into watching out for subject-verb agreement. My current fixation with that story by Nicholas Sparks has ended with me forking out RM 32.90 of my slowly dwindling funds to the capitalists that squander our money by blackmailing us from the joy of reading. Unfortunately, though, it has backfired.

I have actually come to LOVE the story.

I don’t know what is so great about it. the hero is a total smartass, and the heroine is too sickly sweet, but they seem realer that anything , or anybody else I know. And the reason he falls for her is superficially male (he finds himself attracted to her AFTER she looks like an angel in the play), but the way he loves her is SOOO sad. Seriously. Although I had seen the movie beforehand, and I knew that she was going to die in the end. I got all choked up and stuff. At nine in the morning of a Saturday! It was becoming ridiculous.

But oh, so sweet.

So now I have become hopelessly sentimental. It’s dangerous, really. I think I have been a closet-sap for ages, though, since I loved Peabo Bryson before I even knew his name, and I memorize Richard Marx and Luther Vandross songs like nobody’s business. Still, it’s seriously damaging to my reputation.

Ergo, you must please do me a favour. Don’t tell a soul, okay? If you do, I’ll know. And I know where you live (I have relatives in the CIA, duh). And it would not be pretty, trust me.

So. Do what you feel is right.

I’ll see you when I see you.

Which also reminds me, next time I get to tell you all about what I do at INTEC, and just what makes it so interestingly dull.

Peace.

this has been a rant by Syazwina Saw at 4:11 pm

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