#tangophilosophy #1


To be a good follower. I learnt that I had to feel his connection, quiet my thoughts, be still and wait. If my mind is preoccupied, I would anticipate and overstep. If I’m disconnected to his connection, I might miss and not feel his lead. If i can do this dancing tango, it gives me some hope that I would be able to do this in real life.


Magic boxes of food

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Braised chicken in satay marinade with water chestnut

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Some of my earliest memories as a child was watching my mum make baby food for me and my younger sister. She was a funny little thing that did not like food but I was okay with it because it meant more for gluttonous little me. Mum often cooked rice porridge or congee with fish, with bits of green scallions and soft pieces of carrots swimming in them. I watched my mum swirl some soy sauce over the porridge and top it off with a sprinkle of white pepper.  Sometimes if I stood too close to her it would make me sneeze.

The dish was warm, comforting, and savory. I especially loved fishing out bits of fish and carrots with my fingers because they looked like treasures to me amidst the sea of smooth porridge. I would eat copious amounts of it as I watch my nanny attempt to feed my younger sister by chasing her around the house armed with a spoon and bowl of porridge. I never understood why she found the idea of eating so challenging. Where else I was always told to slow down and to chew my food if not I might choke on a piece of fish and die.

I had turned 6 and had a birthday party at Mcdonalds. I don’t really remember why I wanted it there. I remember really liking the coloring books they gave me with the Ronald McDonald and friends character. There was also a masked character that wore stripes that might  or might not have been a robber of some sort but I don’t recall the characters name. The birthday “surprise special” from them would be. They put an oversized, thick adult sized hooded plastic jacket over my pretty pink princess birthday dress and led me to the Mcdonalds birthday “surprise special”… They ushered me through the kitchen and led me to the back to a huge giant metal door. They opened it up and I felt a draft of cold air hit my freckled nose. They nudged me forward into the dark entrance of what I thought was the magical doorway to some strange land. As I looked up upon the slabs of frozen meat. I realized I was in the giant freezer. This giant freezing magical box was my special birthday present? WTF?

I too believed the microwave to be a magic box for food. I remember waking up to the smell of what might I could describe as a sizzling beautiful smell permeating the room as the saw my older sister Melissa attempting to make something with that magic food box. A gourmet dish she called it. To 6 year old little me, her giant 10 year old self was like a beacon and wealth of knowledge that I would never possess. She pulls out a slice of processed Kraft american cheese and peels back the plastic slowly as if she was unwrapping a present and puts it on a slice of ham on a plate. She then stuck that in the microwave for a minute. The magic happened when she lifted me up and carried me up to peek into the magic box. The smell of the ham sizzling being warmed up, as the cheese started to melt getting gooey even bubbling over it spilling around the edges of sliced ham, all this while being caressed by the yellow warm glow emitting from the microwave. I was in love. That piece of melted cheese encapsulating the ham in my little mouth made something click in my tiny un-experienced brain. I think it was sheer happiness. And that started off my obsession with flavors and taste, and trying to recreate those special moments and feelings when eating them. That might have been the it moment for me

Now every time I see a melty cheese stuffed meat dish, I instagram it and email it to Melissa.

Personal Ramblings

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Late night snack #hadablastonrandomwednight

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Mission statement…mission statement…. When prompted for a brief description I wrote:

verbal diarrhea on drugs, music, food and life.

I wanted to use this blog as a tool for me to get my thoughts and feelings either pent up or boiling inside out of me. I figured this would be a good way for me to get accustomed to writing to an audience as well. I suspect I grew up with a mild case of ADHD which was never treated which led me to creating certain self medicating tools which aided in me adapting to everyone’s normalcy or slower momentum, which ironically makes me more fatigue. (Hasn’t anyone heard of weight change?) Knowing this about myself growing up also causes me to have some ongoing anxiety…

verbal diarrhea…

Apparently I’ve been accused of not really having a filter when speaking or some might say i’m damn well politically incorrect. I say, there’s a fine line between being tactful and being able to speak my mind. Since this is my blog, I choose the latter.


Malaysian’s school of parenting raised me with a cheerleading squad of negative reinforcements that keeps me in constant confinement and scrutiny in the jail of my mind.. I may or may not have an alternative lifestyle, to sometimes escape and when intoxicated I may feel so inclined to purge my thoughts onto paper.


Argentinian tango. It sort of saved me. It is the one true thing that I look forward to that doesn’t involve sex or intoxication. I do my best to apply certain tango philosophies in my “real” life. I love dancing.  I dance on average 3 times per week. And no one at tango knows who the fuck I am. Sometimes I feel it might be the only time I feel truly free, calm and at peace with myself.


I was never allowed into the kitchen growing up due to a severe knife cut on my index finger, when my 10 year old self was trying to skin some mangoes. And I guess I took all that for granted. Since moving here 6 years ago, I have trouble finding my favorite dishes and the only alternative was to learn to cook them myself.


I suppose this blog could be very well described as a journal to my self-denial, self-sabotage, self-discovery, self-denial again, self-guilt, self-escaping, self-coping, and self-ramblings.

Wake up, wake up! Traditional media is dying.


Evolving happens, whether we choose to pay attention to it or not. If we don’t quiet ourselves enough to pick up on the process, we might miss it all together.

Rosen’s antagonistic point on view on audiences speak about a larger theme. He calls onto change. Big changes in how now audiences are educated and have the means to dictate and control how they want and choose to receive information in the media. He acknowledges that this is happening and inevitable.

Its an ode to let the big, traditional media giants to wake the fuck up. Cable companies and movie studios now no longer have their strong foothold position monopolizing the industry. Social media is changing everything from how content is being delivered to how its even being funded.

Die-hard fans of the cult tv show, Veronica Mars, featuring Kristen Bell started a kickstarter fund to raise money for producers. They raised 1.2 million within 12 hours through the viral grapevine of twitter and facebook.

Independent filmmakers and producers now do not have to take a number and wait in line to impress cable tv companies for precious airtime. Not when there is the beautiful untapped media space of YouTube and Vimeo. All tied into a pretty attractive package with the proper reach out to target audiences through proper social media strategy and with search engine optimization (SEO).

The audiences today are informed and empowered. They drive the market. The sooner we accept this and adapt, the more likely we are to evolve and survive.

Musings on fashion


Article acknowledged the recent evolution of how social media has affected the exclusive “insider”culture of high fashion culture.

The power that drives the massive number of readers is from them being “normal” non- fashion people/ or outsiders getting a very up and close cerebral experience, living it vicariously through Bryan Boy’s verbal and visual sacarstic musings on the actual fashion or sometimes just plain old bitchy gossip.