i found more!!! sorry, huge philosophy midterm coming up in four hours, and my brain needed some happiness. these are cordial exchanges with everybody’s favourite alien, Martian:

11 May 2008
Subject: (No subject)

Dear Mr Ng

Could you please buy this for me? Would appreciate quick revert
http://www.thedog-clubs.com/pupography/jr1.jpg

Warmest regards,
Su Ann Lim

//

Dear Su Ann

could you pls enumerate the cost-benefit analysis of owning this little beast.

Warmest regards and hugs
Martian’s Earth Name
Martian’s Earthly Job Title
Martian’s Earthly Firm

(haha his email signature from work cracks me up every single time)

——-

22 October 2007
Subject: Notification

Dear Mr Ng,

I think you are extremely good looking

Best regards,
Su Ann

//

Dear Su Ann,

Why thank you for your balanced judgement. I would most appreciate it if you take note of the symmetry between us.

Rgds,
Martian’s Earth Name
Martian’s Earthly Job Title
Martian’s Earthly Firm

——

31 March 2008
Subject: Phone

Dear Mr Ng,

I write you this email to inform you that my phone batt has once again died. The new twist to this age old story is that the battery charger i bought at KLIA a week ago, is actually the wrong charger for my phone’s model. Needless to say I am very exasperated because I am now not contactable by the outside world.

I would really appreciate it if you would pick up a phone charger for me on your way back from work? The phone model is the Sony Ericsson W880i. I would be eternally grateful if you could do me this favour. As you know, my decision letters will be in today and there will be many phone calls to make. PLEASEEEE. :(

I even bought you that toilet paper!!

Best,
Su Ann

//

that guy at klia- he shd be murdered. cos you did say w880i.

hey why don’t we go together?

Earth Name
Earth Job Title

—-

11 April 2007
Subject: Greetings and Salutations

Dear Mr Ng,

It is with great pleasure that I inform you of the soon-to-be arrival of a totally cute pink egg shaped muffin on your doorstep. Estimated time of arrival is 2130 hours at the Hong Kong International Airport and 2230 hours at the IFC Airport Express station on the 11th of April 2007. We trust you will handle the delivered goods with the utmost care. In the event that you do not, we would like to pre-empt you that the aforementioned egg shaped muffin can and will be prone to bouts of sulkiness. Should such a situation arise, the solution is simple: you have to give it lots of lovin’. Either that or a Krispy Kreme donut. Or the Grey’s Anatomy Season 2 boxed set. Or a Fendi Spy. Or maybe just a lot of lovin’.

We hope that everything is to your satisfaction. Should you require further assistance, do not hesitate to contact us.

With best regards,
The Pink Egg Shaped Muffins Dispensary

//

haha it is with utmost cuteness that this is sent out. you can certainly expect great non-hesitation in contacting your good self.

Please note my new email: (Martian’s new work email)

Best regards
Earth name
Earth job title

<3

okay okay back to work. i’m this close to being done with midterms!!!

it’s midterms week on this side of the planet, and because i have a huge propensity for distracting myself with frivolous things during times of high stress, i did some brief excavating in my email account today. there are always such cool fossils to stumble upon in my inbox. the below exchange is one of them, and i came across it while searching for a future finance minister (long story). the context is that this person X and i ‘met’ for the first time via email when he sent me a really cordial message introducing himself. so every now and then i like to send him an equally cordial email introducing myself with my new persona of the day. this is just one of many such silly emails.

it made me smile so :)

10 August 2009

Best regards,
Su Ann

(this apparently needs a disclaimer, albeit at the expense of the joke — i don’t actually want to be a trader at the ‘biggest’ firm. this email isn’t even serious!) anyway. his reply:

Dear Su Ann,

Best,
X

/giggle! what a toucan.

did any of you have to read The Dead Crow by A Samad Said for the literature component in Form 1?

i’ve just found the original Bahasa Melayu version. it’s a wonderfully nuanced poem. see for yourself what the differences are between the BM and English versions.

makes you wonder why they told us in our syllabus that the themes of the poem are worsening pollution in the country, and that the politicians of our country are the ones who should plan how we may live our lives with dignity “now and always”.

GAGAK PARIT
Dilihatnya gagak yang lara
kini kejang di parit
antara pejabat pos dan pangsapuri.
Disaksinya cungapan sorang
pesara, sawan seorang bayi
di klinik sesak sepagi,
semakin kurang dimengerti
inti kemakmuran jasmani.

Kerana di sini hanya kawasan
bersih bagi kehidupan cicitnya,
dituntutnya usah
dungu mencemari rimba
yang tak akan dapat lagi
subur menyegari buminya
tanpa sedia bermaruah,
beratus tahun, merancangnya.

THE DEAD CROW
He saw a dead crow
in a drain
near the post office.
He saw an old man
gasping for air
and a baby barely able to breathe
in a crowded morning clinic.

This land is so rich.
Why should we suffer like this?

I want clean air
for my grandchildren.
I want the damned fools
to leave the forest alone.
I want the trees to grow,
the rivers run free,
and the earth covered with grass.
Let the politicians plan how we may live with dignity,
now and always.

i stopped at the window on the 18th floor to press my hands against the cold glass and to breathe onto it. outside, the snowflakes were flying and tumbling against the grey skies, whisked along by the wind in a manner that seemed so carefree. from up here, i could see people and their black umbrellas fighting against the difficult snow as they walked the pavements. it’s funny, but as a person who’s been living for the past two years in new york, a city where tall buildings are quite unavoidable, i don’t look out the windows of high-rise buildings very much. i live on the 8th floor and that’s about the highest i will go.

the truth is that i avoid the views. i know they’re pretty but they’re also painful. they remind me of so many things, like the 30th floor, the 22nd floor, the 19th floor, and even the 12th floor. flashes of the different views from various apartments and hotels come to me, and these are the kind of things you approach only when you’re strong enough. the last time i’d dared to look out the window of a room that high was when a then boyfriend had come to visit in the springtime– we’d checked into a hotel in times square, and then he told me that this was a special hotel for him because he’d had a moment here with an ex girlfriend. some things, like many other things, one just doesn’t need to hear. the other more recent time that comes to mind was the weekend of my last birthday, and i was briefly happy and prancing around the hotel room, while he ironed his work clothes. i stopped to look out the window (there wasn’t much to see) but he came up from behind to hold me. these burst of moments are short but so splendid.

then, there is also the 17 year old me, in a spaceship that hovers above the glittering city of kuala lumpur. look at the view, i had said, and he had wrapped his arms around my waist in a sudden move that felt so out of place and strangely unfitting. how many times has this happened, i had wondered curiously, but pessimistically. and then, the 18 year old me, in the month of march, in the mid levels of hong kong — i was sitting on a window ledge that would come to be so familiar in the future. we sat and talked as i peered tentatively down at the vast expanse of mad skyscrapers spread across the horizon. we listened to the most ubiquitous sound in hong kong — the ticking sound of the traffic lights — and giggled like children. that’s how it started.

and so, now, i hate windows and the views from high above. it’s more of a scared, frightened aversion than anything else. i was going to end this post by saying that i feel like just dropping everything and running away to somewhere foreign and new for some time — perhaps the street corners of suburban Seoul, where houses are small and rest above a fruit shop, or the whirling sidewalks of Kaohsiung, or even a dorm room in the aloof land of Tokyo, where i might meet Watanabe, and disrupt his life. but that’s my problem. i am an escapist. always trying to run. do i run to be found? have i been found? is this the very last time that i will be lucky?

so here it is finally–

i was sitting in my 9am class the other day, and my mind wandered to a place where people talk about christianity, islam, and the word allah. glibly, i made a mental note to myself to finish writing that piece on the Allah problem that has been sitting on my desktop for almost two months now. then i felt tired. perhaps i won’t bother. it is, after all, an issue that has been debated to such a pulp that i’m not sure what fresh insight i can add that won’t sound naive. and then, and then — before i could catch it, the careless thought burst forth from my head like some disorganized rebellion: i wonder what kind of advertisement yasmin ahmad would make out of the allah problem.

in that instance, and who knows for how long now, i had forgotten that she’d passed on. there is a panic to this sort of realization when you catch yourself. there is a viscous anxiety that fills your mouth as you realize the gravity of the situation, months later, unknowingly free from the emotions of the sensational and the assault of public mourning. then, you come to mourn privately, and finally see the real question- what do we do now?

i think i took yasmin ahmad for granted when she was alive. i was 16 when i happened to walk past that awkwardly placed pillar in front of the box office at GSC Mid Valley. i was with waimin, and together we stared at the sepia soaked poster of a malay girl (no tudung) and a chinese boy squatting on a wooden bridge. eh, Malay movie. why is it screened under International Screens? what does sepet mean? who is Yasmin Ahmad? is this going to be a typical Romeo & Juliet story? har, but it’s a Malaysian movie you know…

despite all the uncertainty, we finally went to watch Sepet one day, in our school uniforms, not expecting much or anything at all. and in that little Mid Valley cinema, we were introduced to Yasmin Ahmad and her small world with big feelings. Sepet was a story about so many things– ipoh, chungking express, malay cinema, an ah beng who reads poetry, gang life, JPA scholarships, adidas shoes, race, family, responsibility, love. everything was so Malaysian and yet different; but above all, the movie was so optimistic. i left the cinema feeling like i had grown 20 years older, and there was this ruffling in my sensibilities that i couldn’t quite place. who is Yasmin Ahmad? she must be young. she must be this young, up-and-coming director who has just returned to Malaysia after studying film abroad.

when Aira’s mom told me who Yasmin Ahmad was, and that she was responsible for the Petronas ads we often watch in silence with an awkward lump in our throats, it was as if this whole world had unfolded suddenly before me. everything moved so quickly after that. in a very compressed span of time, Sepet was all over the place, in every newspaper and magazine, and everyone was the new expert on Yasmin Ahmad and her “indie film” messages. it’s quite like how you learn a new word for the first time, and suddenly after that you see it everywhere and you wonder how come you never noticed this alien word before. people talked about her so much because she touched the Malaysian heart like no filmmaker had ever done, whether Rabun, Sepet or a Petronas ad from the early 2000s was one’s first emergence into Yasmin Ahmad’s creative and emotional space. i remember how excited i was when her next film, Gubra, was released in cinemas. and the first time i’d ever gotten tongue tied while talking to someone was when TV Smith introduced me to her at the press screening of Mukhsin. i wanted to ask her so many questions. how do you do it? where do you find room in your heart to be this forgiving? did you know that you inspire so many people to have hope in Malaysia? did you know that you remind us all that our country’s problems are so real, but still so very manageable? did you know that you made Malaysian cinema cool again? of course, i asked her none of the above and just stammered my name. i shook her hand, and saw up close her crooked teeth and her kind smile. she was very busy that day, but never too busy to let forth that kind smile. and then she wrote me a comment on my blogpost about Mukhsin. how lucky i am, that she so briefly read what small and puerile things i had to say about her prized movie, and actually said something back to me in return.

i was out partying when the news of her death broke. the first thing i saw when i drunkenly checked my Twitter in the middle of the dance floor was– RIP Kak Yasmin. and that was it, that’s how she left my world. i’d never really had someone close to me die, but if anything felt remotely like it, then this was that. she’d been unwell for days then, but that one day, she just died. this is why life is unfair. everything about it is unfair if such an. important. person can die even before she’s finished what only she can do. of all the malaysians to take away, why did it have to be Yasmin Ahmad?

and now it’s been almost a year since she died, and beyond Talentime, there is nothing that we have to look forward to. nothing at all, because people can try to be like her but no one comes close to being that soft, that dark, that hopeful, that emotionally perceptive, and that intelligent. we screened 15Malaysia here on campus last week, and while it was possible to watch Chocolate without skipping a heartbeat, it wasn’t as easy actually seeing her on the screen, in her utterly disarming makcik-with-an-edge manner, in the short titled House. thank you, Linus Chung, for that last and unexpected goodbye that you allowed us here at this university to have with Kak Yasmin.

now that i’ve realized how awfully true it is that she is gone, i don’t quite know what to do. it’s like anything to do with ‘harapan’ seems so fakely forceful and hard-edged now, and i need to watch the latest Yasmin Ahmad film to be grounded once again in the softness of the things that matter. all these crazy politics, crazier politicians, injustice, corruption, awkwardly latent racism, social stigma — they all make sense and they all become malleable only if you watch them in a Yasmin Ahmad movie, lovingly and fastidiously set in perspective for us by a talent whose art can never be replaced.

The making of Chocolate– a small insight into her very frustrating genius

Hokkien Aunties– an absolute work of art

Reunion Dinner– utterly arresting

Dinosaru. this came from the Tan Hong Ming series of ads, with Tan Hong Ming of course being the most wildly popular ad, but this one was actually by far my most favourite ad in the series.

Tan Hong Ming

do you know how unfair it is that Yasmin Ahmad died? what, really, do we do now?