Plane Taking Off

Was at my in-laws place earlier today when I could hear an aeroplane take off. My in-laws live nearby the airport and occassionaly we can hear the aeroplanes take off and land, but most of the time it’s too far to actually hear anything.

For some reason today, I could hear quite clearly the sounds of the engine revving up, right before the aeroplane moves down the runaway. I recognize each sound, the slow hum of the engine right before the plane tears down the runaway, the loud roar of the engine and that high-pitched whine of the engine when the wheels finally lift off from the tarmac, and the roar begins to fade away as the plane moves higher and higher towards the heavens.

If you have to ask me, what is the most comforting sound in the world to me – my answer would be the sound of a plane taking off. Almost immediately I’m taken back to my childhood. It reminds me of my dad, it reminds me of the times we used to go on holiday together as a family. We flew very frequently, one of the perks of growing up with a dad working in the airline industry. The not-so-great perk was that as a result of his job, he traveled so much and was rarely home. When I hear the engine of a plane – it would remind me of my dad, remind me of the times we did get to follow him when he worked. When I hear the revving of a plane engine, I feel safe and secure, as though my dad is with me.

It’s something safe and comforting to think about – now that I’ve moved out of my parent’s place, and though I live, literally seven minutes away, I miss my parents. And you never know the future, where it might takes us. I might be seven minutes away, perhaps in a few years time Eizwan and I may have to live seven hours away from my parents. And God forbid, should anything happen to my father…it’s comforting to know that an industrial sound as painful and irritating to most is something that makes me feel loved and secure.

Letter to the Tween Me

For my work currently, I’m looking at a very odd age group, the tween group. The too cool for Ronald McDonald, and too young for prom group: the very awkward age group of 9 to 14 years.

I’m ahem, a twenty-something right now, but if you were to ask me, what are the most traumatising memorable moments of my life, I would probably say the ages of 9 to 14. I don’t remember much about my life before I was 8 but I do remember at 13, slamming doors and shouting at my parents: “You don’t understand me!”

Looking back, that age group was awfully difficult. I remember listening to Hitz FM when it first came out, thinking I was so effin’ with it because I listened to cool music now, and urgh, only boring adults listen to Mix FM* I wanted to grow up so quickly, I read Michael Chrichton without really understanding him to seem more adult, but devoured Christopher Pike in my room (good Lord, why on earth did I like his books so much, they’re like the predecessorts to emo). I pretended not to be interested in Sailormoon when in effect, I adored the series and used to tape them so I could rewatch them over.

It was at that precocious age that you are painfully aware how different you are to everyone. You want to be different and unique and you wanted to fit in. You find yourself falling in love for the first time and find your heart breaking and you swear, you’ll never love again. That is until the next cute boy walks next to you. Everything was just so much bigger and grander, and why is it that the world just won’t understand you.

Looking back, if there was any advice that I wished I could have told my tween self, was that, it will get easier one day. One day it won’t matter that you didn’t get that Guess shirt, it doesn’t look that nice anyway. And there are other funkier brands out there that are beyond your imagination. The world IS  far greater than you imagined and one day, it IS possible to see everything and experience everything. And that loneliness you feel right now will dissipate with time, and you will find loves you.

And about being different and fitting in, that is a battle that you will face all your life, but it’s okay to be different, be proud of who you are because at the end of the day, what matters is what you feel about yourself and not what others feel about you. Because the fight will go on forever, at the very least, know that if you’re happy with you, you’ll be happy.

I won’t promise you that life will get easier, being an adult does suck, I’d rather still be a kid, or at least remain in university. They say that it’s one of the  best times of your lives. I have to agree with them, it’s true.

But it’s not to say that I am belittling your pain. Learning to deal with pain is a way of maturing and you grow stronger that as things get tougher, you can handle it better. Having said all that, I would never want to go through the extremities of emotions that you went through at that age again.

Just remember though, however painful it might be at that point, it too shall pass.

Of course, knowing my younger self….I’d probably listen intently before tossing out all the advice given and whine how adults just don’t get me. Ahhh…youth.

*Nothing has changed there now, only boring adults listen to Mix FM. They put on the most tedious 80s music. For the longest time, I had a huge bias against 80s music until I watched Ashes to Ashes and realized, fuck it man, the 80s was awesome! I wished I was an adult then!

Change the World

During our production crew meeting today, our team listed all the odds and problems stacked against us. Well, not stacked against us, more like piled upon like concrete blocks. Problem after problem with the same complaint each time: “Why aren’t people being a little more supportive?” I surprised myself by being calm about the situation.

When I first started the project, I was so angry with the things going wrong that I wanted to write an expose. “I’m going to write a tell-all and I’m going to bitch out the entire industry!” I said. I’m going to humiliate everyone and tell everyone that, in the immortal words of Gwen Stefani, “This shit is bananas”. As time goes on however, that desire has lessened and I’m ust focused on getting the play up and I don’t really care if the world actually knows how difficult it is to do anything artistic in Malaysia.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ve grown completely indifferent at a young age. Instead of feeling a fiery passion and anger when facing a grave injustice or hypocrisy that I would have felt when I was younger, I’m just a little annoyed. Unsurprised and perhaps a little disappointed. I bitch about it but I do feel nothing inside.

I lack the anger or the drive to write long blogs and campaign on how the world could be a better place. I should try and campaign to change things: the environment is awfully unfriendly and unwelcoming towards new acts. For our art scenes to thrive, there needs to be more nurturing. Fair enough, I’m new and I don’t expect people to bend over backwards to help us. However, our experience is akin to entering a new school whereby not only are the kids ragging on you for being a newbie, so are the teachers, the cleaners and the pakcik security guard.

I never really considered giving up however, despite how tough it can be. I wonder why at times. I reckon, one of the reasons is probably my pride. I find it incredibly embarrassing to give up on anything. But a bigger motivation is that I actually relish the challenge. I relish how difficult the problems are and I relish being able to stare down the impossible and succeed.

And when I succeed at something which was pretty difficult, I find that I want to challenge myself again and again.

Changing the environment to make things easier never even crosses my mind. Which begs the question: am I being selfish, in pursuing my dreams that I’m not doing my part to make a change?

At the risk at sounding patronising and possibly, lackadaisical, this addiction to challenges makes me dedicated to pushing myself as far as possible despite the insane obstacles ahead of me. It makes me so focused on me that the thought of raising awareness, changing things doesn’t even cross my mind. Life is tough here, but by God, despite how tough it is, I’m going to try and make it. It’s a strange way of being self-absorbed, that so focused are you on your dreams that you forget that you live in a society and that you have a duty to your fellow citizens to make the country/state you live in a better place.

Or optimistically, I’m changing things for the better by succeeding. I’m sure there’s a ton of scientists that have saved the world despite motivated primarily by their ego.

The other disturbing possibility is that I am neither optimistic nor ego-driven, but that I am deeply cynical about life here in Malaysia. I do not see the need to campaign and write about how things are or could be better. It’s been done to death. Why flog a dying horse? There are so many things in this world that needs to be done and it’s best to focus on yourself and getting what you want out of life based on your own values. At the very best, if you do things in a way that is morally acceptable to you and succeed, the world will change for the better in its own little way. At the very least, you’ve achieved what you wanted, in the way that is morally acceptable to you and you’re happy. And perhaps that’s all that matters for now.