Mondays' Blue

A beautiful Sunday would chase away the gloomy Mondays' blue.

Today was spent walking in the bush, dipping in the waterfall, donating blood to a couple of leeches, snapping pictures of fields of ginger flowers, eating jungle durian in the middle of nowhere (the best I ever tasted!), dipping my tired feet in hot spring, taking a rejuvenating nap and enjoying great company of my friends.

I'm so looking forward to tomorrow! (Now that I've put it in writting it looks weird and slightly sickening and I sound pathetic!)

Prelude

Waking up bright and early (7 am is ungodly for a Sunday morning), for a hike up Saga Hill to the waterfall. It must be old age talking as I was sucking wind big time hiking up. I was there only a year ago and I did not recall it was that tough the last time. Nothing changes, except I’m a year older and packing up a couple of kilos. Oh damn, I’m so going to die taking on Mount Kinabalu at the end of coming July. What the hell was I thinking? Well perhaps I wasn’t thinking at all. 

Oh KK here I come!

Mind Over Matter

Try your damnedest not to get a ‘reaction’ during a Balinese aroma therapy full body massage. I kept thinking about that bloody monkey that grabbed my glasses and ran away with it at the Pura Uluwatu temple the previous evening.

Talk about mind over matter.

Second Time

I was there, 2 weekends ago. My second trip to the island and pretty sure that'd not be my last. I'm definitely going to be back there again. Hopefully soon!

Something for the Twins

Happy belated birthday, boys. May you be free and happy like the fishes swimming in the wonderful world of the ocean. I love you.

Overheard #10

"There's no dignity in dying, only in living." Gregory House MD.

Is there?

Looking at these pictures, I thought of dad, I thought of the line.

 

War Casualty

My head and my heart were at war last night.

As in any war, it's not about what is right, it's what is left that matters.

The war left me waking up a zombie this morning, with a dazed mind and a pair of tired baggy eyes and a neck pain and a pounding headache.

Kill me! Kill me NOW!

Last Weekend

Here I was with crisp blue sky, smiley bright sun, fluffy white cotton candy clouds, lovely light breeze, clear warm waters and silky soft sand. I was happy... 

Shame

A friend, H was relocated to the UK last year. He has been sharing his pictures visiting around the UK on the net (Yes, you got it spot on, via Facebook!), filled with quirky trivia and funny facts. It is always a joy going through his pictures: centuries-old castles, churches, cathedrals and towers, some built in as far back as the 1100s, still standing tall and stately, beautifully conserved and maintained. Then I thought of the Sultan Mizan Zainal Abidin Stadium in Kuala Terengganu collapsed last week, just merely a year after it was constructed. That made me cringed with such immeasurable sadness and shame.

Mostly shame!

Doubt

A few Sataurdays ago, I spent the morning watching Doubt. A simple story and engaging plot, san any computer generated effects or explosive action or fight scene. It was the brilliant ensemble of cast with their superb performances that captivated me throughout the flick. It's rare to see such talented group of actors sharing the screen with equally strong acting, as if feeding the energy from each other to push for the highest level of performance as an ensemble, not dominating or out-acting each other.

I love the scene when Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman) talked about gossip during his mass, after being confronted by Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep), along with Sister James (AmyAdams) of his allegedly inappropriate conduct with a black student. It was cleverly presented, full of theatrics. He was acting out a confession between an Irish priest and lady. His voice changed effortlessly as he spoke, between the stern priest and the guilty lady and being a narrator. He was clearly keeping the congregation hooked, building the story up and then ending it ever so swiftly and powerfully, sending out the message ever so forcefully and loudly to the congregation and to Sister Aloysius and Sister James.

Then there was the scene of the conversation between Sister Aloysius and Mrs. Miller (Viola Davis), the troubled mother of the black student. At times, it was with such intensity and ferocity both woman talked, about Father Flynn and the kid. Then they would tone it down before exploded into a heated conversation again, trading shots of quick-fire lines, driving each other towards the point of breaking down. But they both stood firm on their stance, none backed down. The emotional tension, to me, was simply overbearing.

In the end, the conclusion was simple, yet thought provoking, leaving one to ponder upon the conflict of responsibility, morality and authority.

Good flick, don't miss it!