Walking through the rain

I walked through the rain to my office building this morning. Still loving it.

There's something playful, serene and romantic all at the same time...

What's new?

Well, what can be new. I lost my phone again.

Someone probably took it during my dinner at Oriental. Yeap the hotel. I'm ok I guess. It's a gadget. It's tech. I'm destined not to have a loving relationship with tech. Seriously.

Anyway, this sparked off a discussion. I left a phone in a cab before. Left my money clip in a cinema before. Renee, Rosy and Joey took my cards for an entire day before I realised I left them at Burger King at Changi Airport. By then I was in Hong Kong. Two weeks ago I left my phone in a cab but that was returned. Two weeks later, the phone decided that enough was enough and it left me for good.

I'm not going to explain the situations that left me hanging without my belongings. Some were due to exhaustion, some were just being too naive. Oh, I just explained some situations.

The discussion that followed soon after my recent loss included possible explanations of how I could have lost my phone again. Of course I was careless at times. But I think I really trust the entire world. Ok maybe not the entire world. Maybe I think everyone's nice. No one intends to be bad or evil. Maybe I'm just being naive.

The other direction of the discussion went along the line of maybe I'm too full of myself. But I choose to see it as I don't expect anything bad to happen to me. The world is sunny, fresh and inspirational and everyone should be nice to me. Am I full of myself? Maybe. But i thought about it. I'm not full of myself. I've had this theory since I was in my teens. People who don't know me think I'm unapproachable and possibly a snob. Seriously. I'm seriously not bothered by these unjustified claims. I really only care a lot about how people whom I love think about me. That's all that really matters in the sphere of opinions isn't it?

Ok that's probably a digression from a lost phone.

Anyway, there is too much pain and too many more crucial concerns in this world to be affected by the insignificant losses in our daily lives.

Cheers to life. I hope you don't lose your phone.

Saturday late night movie

It has been a while since a movie affected this much. I was already in a cab on the way home but I was still welling up a little. Granted, I’m usually very involved in a good story be it told through beautiful text or visuals. But this movie kept me feeling moved, disturbed and impressed even after it ended.

I caught the Home Song Stories last Saturday. The cast emoted so convincingly that they drew me into their characters’ lives. Joan Chen was incredible with her role, layering it with multi-dimensions that I couldn’t help feeling sorry for the dilemmas her character faced and the decisions that were made. Somehow, cheongsams with cigarettes always seem to be able to add depth to a character. Qi Yu Wu made his role credible; I would not have been able to tell just from his authentic Hong-Kong accented Cantonese that this China born and bred lad works in Singapore. The only thing that gave him away was probably his delivery in English.

Acting aside, the story was fantastic. Not too sure if this was based on a true story since the credits somehow gave the impression that it was. I don’t think any child should be put through such pain in life, so early in life. The narrator was right – it was a story about himself but also about his mother. The direction brought the story alive, threading tears, fears and shock together with the right tempo.

There was one particular scene that disturbed me. Renee said she expected it the way it turned out. I saw it coming, not the exact way, but was too disturbed by its abruptness and high in-your-face-shock value. The scene remained for at lease five seconds. I know. I tried to not see it but when I looked again it was still there. Plus it brought back what happened a few months ago and I don’t think I’m prepared to witness anything like that, real or reel.

I loved the last scene. When the narrator was typing, Joan Chen walked over. It’s slightly cliché but it worked there. Again, it made me empathise with the struggle that the narrator went through. Moving.

I’m a sucker for such movies. I told Renee, for every Home Song Stories I make her watch with me, she can make me watch five Minority Reports. I know you won’t be that mean.

It was simply a superb production with local talent in front of and behind the scenes. Kudos.