Fong Fei Kei

Fong Fei Kei – verb (Malaysian slang) – to leave someone alone, to dump suddenly, to abandon on unforseen circumstances. Adapted from Cantonese, where it is literally translated as ‘leaving on a jet plane’.

Examples of usage: She Fong-Fei-Kei-ed me when I waited at the office to get things done, taking the day off to line up to buy upcoming movie tickets.

I was, in fact, Fong-Fei-Kei-ed by two people; one after the other, as we were to watch a movie in a group. Both of them watched with their families. Yeah, I know – unforseen circumstances.

Hype

We are all victims of hype. Myself included. Yeah, sure, I’m ashamed, but I still follow the crowd.

Like today. I was Fong-Fei-Kei-ed (read definition above) for a movie that was the hype. It had a cool trailer (so cool, it had to be pulled down!) It was widely believed that tickets for this particular movie were hard to get. (I know; I met someone who waited for 7 hours for a ticket!)

Sure, I could justify my yearning to see the movie – I had a fair amount of literature relating to it. However, my want turned ugly when I found out that everybody watched it before I did!

Could I watch it alone? Society has declared that watching a movie alone is a social no-no; a faux pas; an act of loneliness.

I felt left out. Classic symptoms of a sufferer of hype. Everybody’s doing it; why haven’t you?

It wasn’t so bad being the last, but being Fong-Fei-Kei-ed as well dealt the blow. I blew. I turned ugly.

To all of you who had to endure my ranting, I am sorry. A thousand apologies for the thousand harsh words that had been said. I knew I went overboard, but I continued on anyway. The hype got me overreacting. 🙁

I would have normally written it off, dismissed it, and found somebody else to go watch it with. But who? Although it wasn’t even a week since the premiere, everybody online I asked watched it already. I didn’t get anyone who went excitedly about how he/she wanted to watch it again. They wouldn’t mind, as the movie was okay.

It wouldn’t be the same if I forced them to watch it again. The after-movie (where people talk about the movie after that) wouldn’t be the same. The elements of surprise would be predicted. And most of all, I’d feel guilty.

I don’t even know what to make of what I feel now. Perhaps after the movie, you’ll find out!

Bah Humbug

Here’s something for the less uninterested in my rantings – a new skin! Called Narcissism, it features yours truly, in a very narcissistic way! Also, my About Me page has been updated once again!

Oh, and the *&%#^ Guestbook bug has been fixed! You can now sign my guestbook with my reassurance that it won’t be swallowed up by the deep void of bugs in web space!

That’s what my hair is.

When I think of it, I count my blessings everyday that I am a guy, and that I can get away with a cheap haircut at the neighborhood barber.

Nothing too fancy. No ‘unisex salon/hairdresser’ crap for me. Just plain old barber. And a plain old haircut.

I wasn’t tired of my hairstyle. I didn’t need a change. I didn’t need layering. My classic Asian black hair wasn’t needing artificial coloring.

I wouldn’t even go all the way to another nearby country to get a haircut. (Though I know some girls do!)

Why did I get a haircut, then?

I sat in front of my computer, with a wall fan blowing at my face. The fan blew the front fringes, which were then long, into my eyes, irritating me when staring at the computer for long periods of time. (Like when I finished Return To Castle Wolfenstein!) Then, I knew, it was time.

I like haircuts. Rather, I like the event that is, getting a haircut. There is an enjoyable, gratifying sensation running through your scalp when the barber’s shaver passes your ears, moving your head. Ooohhh yeah. At times I wished that my hair was longer so the barber would take a longer time just to trim my hair.

The best part of it all was the familiarity. He knew all that had to be done to make it look shorter. Not different. Like I just shrank my hair, not somebody taking an axe to my hair. The barber respected the thin line between changing hairstyles and shortening messy masses of keratin strands (hair!) He knew what I wanted. For it to be short and simple.

As an aftertreat, I get to stroke the spiky stubbles of my hair, where there were close shaves. (And no, I don’t have a near-bald crew cut.)