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11 JANUARY 2024 - THURSDAY

Ten years ago and ten years to come. When I believe in something and start to see it in everything. Everything is taken as a sign - everything is a sequential consequence and nothing is a coincidence. Me sitting here right now saying Hello, hello, hello. It is 11 days into 2024 and it goes on until it stops. Talking in past tense about yesterday while making plans for tomorrow and sitting here today to document the monumental mundanities that serve as catalysts for me to think ten different ways about twenty different things. I see many things today that I did not the day before. I seem to feel a way today that I didn’t before. How grand is human emotion that it is seemingly superior even in the face of reason. I take full responsibility, care and governance over my own dispositions effective immediately. In less of a tongue twister, the older, the better.

December was two weeks ago and February is two weeks to come. My thoughts are nothing to these drivers I oversee, on roads so fast, so busy from my balcony. Nothing to these pedestrians who live, laugh, love regardless of my condition. The biggest person in all our lives is ourselves and we spend time, effort, comfort, discomfort, blunt, romantic, empathetic energy investing in just that. Self taught self improvement through self care from self realisation on self reliance and the urgency for self sufficiency. It is the furthest from loneliness. In fact, everything and everyone I experience invites crescents into the crevices of my existence. I find no peace in the knowledge that everyone carries pain but no malice either. I simply understand it. Acknowledge it with a nod, with all my chest, with no words and my quiet wishes. That is the recipe for a healthy participation in the human race, yes? The consciousness to realise how much of it is subconscious. Secondary to how I want to be, what’s gotten into me? And I wonder, I wander endlessly at when I will be ready and know it is impossible to always act with swift stoic gusto in warps of adversity as long as I am chained to the bittersweet reality of my ancestry. I am an ape that can spell. An ape that follows instructions and has e-mail newsletters. An ape that cares to dress well. An ape that says excuse me, sorry. Sorry. 

It doesn’t require my permission to exist. It takes and it gives. It uplifts then it leaves. My daily commutes invite a front row seat feeling into a snippet of everyone’s day. So many land yards, uniforms, perfumes and headphones. Although, it’s sometimes Thursday and I swear I’ve lived the same day on rotation since last Sunday, the world continues to endlessly surprise me. 

I see something new everyday. Every pocket in Kuala Lumpur displays stretches of process and progress. I walk under areas under construction every so often. Under. I am under them and they tower over me. I asked M, how many humans lined up shoulder to shoulder, cheerleader formation style does he think it needs to create an entire solid skyscraper? Alot. He told me and we both squinted our eyes to attempt concluding where the buildings end and where they begin. I’m constantly confronted with areas that are still being repaired, maintained, “in progress”, and as much as I want to complain about the inefficiency of this or that person, I see myself in the littered, contaminated rivers of the city just as much as I do in the tall tree, cold and crispy, monkey dominated outskirts. I self reflect and say I understand when I walk past potholes. The dizziness and business of it all exposes my vulnerability, but I can only be in charge of what I can be in charge of and this is so often the case. Some animated depiction of carnivores and herbivores living in a metropolitan city plays out in front of me. There are wolves and bunnies. Polar bears and squirrels. Me, I was born in the year of the Tiger - into the body of a girl who existed and experienced transitions after transitions of train stops, train of thoughts and forehead creases. The universe is sending me all these notifications and alarms that don’t just connect to me on a surface level of blind faith, but instead on a neurological this-scratches-an-itch-in-my-brain context. Another name for this is inspiration. I have everyone and everything in the world to thank for being the most interesting planet I have visited, that infinitely conspires and constantly inspires. I am so impressed right now. Congratulations on everything.

27 JANUARY 2024 - SATURDAY

I am writing this sore and satisfied from being make-believe acrobats and nomadic strongmen of travelling shows or just Ippo Makunouchi, really, shadow boxing under a big tree. A lot of people I’ve been in contact with recently have encouraged me to fight. Sharmin was sharing her experience of boxing in a fight for the first time when I went to Temu last week. Watching Sharmin and her opponent box lead me to think of values in a guarded and guided presentation such as boxing, where there are rules, do’s and don’ts. When and where to punch, when and where to stop. Its synonym is Self Control. It triggered a way of thinking that is instinctive, primitive, scary and playful all together. Like two kittens playing at one angle then like two savage gladiators whose focused retinas and right hooks send each other back and forth in a choreographed duet. Today is Saturday. Last Saturday was the opening for one of the shows Mati is showing work at right now. At the opening, I met many old friends and made many new ones. I don’t know if it was because I am polite or because I was the only one in that gallery at 4PM on a weekend flexing my arms and legs to the general public in broad daylight to even the beginning breath of a sentence about to ask “Have you been working out?”, but a comment I received from a girl that day was that she would hate to have to fight me and I said Thank you. With the same feverish enthusiasm of both a dog and a human toddler at the mention of an outdoor park, the world can become my playground. Except, I live the reality of a girl who could use these theories, strength training and coordination to take better care of myself. So I can depend on myself. So my loved ones know that I am strong and capable. So I feel safe in my own skin knowing I am actively engaging with my body. Knowing its limits, potential, allergies, deficiencies, strengths and imbalances is the epitome of a top to toe welcome home mat you lay out for yourself. I’m aware that I have a sprained right foot but no one can tell I have an ankle guard on from behind blue socks so I’ll still take anything high heeled over anything else on any given day. My body is not a temple, it is a circus, a hospital, a workshop, a service centre, a work in progress, WIP. RIP.  

If I don’t pen down the gigantic gratitude and sentiments that come out of making bodies of work through periods of time, the dedication and focus I had on that one thing that was orbiting my entirety shifts into the question of “What’s next?” too quickly. I need it whispered sometimes. Gently. Floating. Reminded that it happened, it matters. The last exhibition I had before ending 2023 was at The Backroom Gallery, KL. Chi Too produced this show titled ‘Favouritism Is My Favourite -Ism”, where he arranged an array of his favourite artists in a show together and that’s that. Believing it to be the premise of how all shows are developed anyways by curators and tastemakers, it felt like an invitation to evening Tai Chi at the playground than it was anything else. This was an opportunity as CT said it, “To do and make whatever it is that you want to make and I will try to help make it happen”. It was early November when I had the objective to toy with the word ‘Lagi’. The works changed so much so often with experimentations of laser-engraving the word over and over again on the surface of mirrors, I even entertained thoughts of silkscreening on all my drafts and rejected papers that are still in good condition that I keep for scrap or sketch use. There was the discussion about medium and size which lead to the word inspiring the notion of repetition. Meaning ‘Again’ or ‘More’, Lagi is a demanding action even if the word isn’t read, seen or spoken that day. Again is needed anyways. Again is the on-going requirement to keep on keeping on. I made 43 pieces of works on paper that measure to match the whole gallery. I got sick in the process because I am an asthmatic genius who decided to work with aerosol spray cans without any proper guidance, reference or protective gear. Because of that, over the duration of working on this piece I was inhaling funky fumes and toxicities that gave me a sore throat and an even worse posture. Squatted over pieces of paper, all cut to the same size - spraying and praying my worries away with every new page. The works were displayed throughout the walls of the gallery from December 9th to 23rd. It’s been a little over a month since the exhibition has ended and being able to have spent time with the word ‘Lagi’, again and again, when placed next to each other spelling the Malay word for crazy, ‘Gila’. Lagilagilagila more and more, forever and ever has remedied and regulated my chemistry for generations to come. 

Mati spent the new years in ritualistic domesticity, watching the fireworks from the balcony. I do not like fireworks because I appreciate birds and this isn’t one of those times where two things can be true because birds are from God’s nature and fireworks are made from human hands. I recently came across a thought from Ai Weiwei through his Ai vs. AI series where he shared his opinion of capitalism being continued human development and is a byproduct of relatively unrestricted human progress. Alarm bells ring at my awareness in the existence of masses of man-mades like firearms and fireworks. I walk around strange compounds and developments that have no real reason to be as tall as they are. But then again I just got home from a mall to get my exercise in window-shopping in and a refund for some frames that don’t fit. That makes me needy. Needing. Always in need of something, something. That bag is so cute and I am craving icecream after all. We can buy some more for later after all. Can’t simply effortlessly be because I always need some form of liquid with me, a cup of tea maybe and good books to teach me how to be good, new this, I knew that. Can’t simply effortlessly be because I am a late capitalism baby who is just now learning and strategising my consumption. How much of it can I pen and how much of it is planned for me? Who am I without inscripted branded descriptions and the eco-friendly packaged personalities being sold to me from all directions? Connections I find within the interactions I have everyday. With obstacles, people, objects, ennui - values have no way of hiding themselves in the face of situations. Anyways, effortless takes a lot of effort. 

29 JANUARY 2024 - MONDAY

I’m in territories that become more familiar to me in this very moment. Handshakes and long sleeves I recognise. Being busy is a blessing, busy is blessing I tell myself like an outdated mantra I should internalise by heart by now. There are so many different backgrounds responsible for handling and operating the varied variations of businesses and companies in this city, each with their unique methods and compliances. Then there is the full-time freelancer who is chasing both a new deadline next month and last month’s payments. Have you considered mental age, recently? That a lot of the people you know operate in the physicality of an adult human being but God knows what’s happening inside, upstairs. I think most people are of different ages mentally and physically. Me, I can only speak for myself when I say that I am trying to tune both these aspects of my life into a harmony. Hand in hand, aligned, understood, cooked through. I can only learn by going through adversities and moments when I am less aware - those teach me what to do better next time. I get those moments so often. Maybe I’d accidentally talk over someone’s sentence or can’t drive or am only reminded about my virtual meeting 30 minutes beforehand. Then I get into it with myself about how self-managing, self-supporting, artist/marketer/PR/manager/admin, self-producing, self-employed, ‘I-Am-My-Own-Boss’isms cannot first aid the fact that it takes more than one small me for THIS to work. And if I am going to rely on THIS, that I would have to find all the paths in which every decision would work in my favour. Aware that I am not alone in this with being a part of a collective duo striving towards the same aims and a support system of family, friends and the creative ecosystem consisting of individuals who continue to prove to me that they have my best interest in mind. I am the person that has ideas. Multidisciplinary. I am a brand that has a line of products. Mixed media. Then I get into that with myself again and its 10 minutes before my meeting so I get over myself and into a mindset. Hushing my existential consequences and circumstances with one quiet prayer of “Perspective”. Navigating the entropy of my twenties through headaches and heartbreaks I wish to one day laugh about. One day this will all be a distant dream. A funny story. But today is Monday. Cloudy, congested, competitive Monday. 

The opportunity of moving into a studio comes right on time. 2024 becomes the year that M and I are able to stretch out our legs and expand our process onto a physical space. We have both used this space to create work before, and we will be here for the next few who knows. I was just there to finish a couple of paper pieces for an upcoming something. It is a comfortable borrowed burrow we can go to in the noon, wearing ties to paint pictures. See the bigger picture is that it is a 9-5 to 5-9 to 24/7/365/366 on leap years event that the importance of setting ourselves straight, starting again, shifting goalposts occurs and reoccurs. There is no full stop to the experience. No date on the calendar I can point to that says Hey, Yes, I am that day because there was never a promise or agreement between us and this life. So we do what we can and we try and we wait. I buy stationary and I buy myself some time. The studio is a place we both want to name but haven’t found THE ONE yet. In time, on time, I’ll tell you the name next time. 

8 FEBRUARY 2024 - THURSDAY

I can’t help that the months where a loved one is born easily becomes my favourite month. This month is particularly special because it is mine. Just mine. Jasmine. Yasmine’s one year older spectacular celebration. Sometimes I slap my forehead at the thought of how big I am becoming. Last night, when I sat to talk to God, I cried because maybe I haven’t been as mindful with prayers as I am with poetry. I prayed for everyone I love, everyone I’ve lost. In God’s large, vast, majestic world, I believe there is space for everyone to be themselves as long as they aren’t tarnishing or hurting others, and be celebrated for it. What the last year has taught me is that all I have and what I am is enough. The crooked parts of my being are there to remind me to improve, to be patient, to be silent. This is why I’ve just kept to myself and realised that as the best way of being when one is recovering from a bad case of the human condition. Have you seen or spoke to me in the last year? Because I have and I am radically growing to like to person I am becoming. To my families, my friends, to animals, to those in need, to elderly, to women. I don’t want to pay attention to the things that do not serve the attention and affection I have learnt to exercise. Too embarrassed to spend what is lent to me on empty empties, I fill my days with activities. Everyday is so busy and I don’t know why I expect otherwise. It is probably most accurately attributed to the fact that I love Sundays and thinking every waking day is a weekend. In other words, indulgence in relaxation is the insulting habit I have chosen to let myself nourish. I love it so much because sometimes it is harder to see the bigger picture, and I don’t see my every routine as the important step by step I need to make constant, so that as a week, a month, a year passes by, I am moving. It is easy to be stuck in same places, especially when I didn’t yet form new routines. I don’t miss my days of candy because really, I still have them. Like a treat, darling, not a full course meal. “I’ll rest when I’m dead”, used to come off to me as bleak and scary. Then I put my mind to it and think, as long as there is a pulse in me, a breath I can take, I am so lucky. I am so blessed and privileged. There is so much I can and should do with my short stint on Earth. And that’s what it means to me, that I am meant to be tired most days and that’s okay because I’ll rest and reset. Get up again when I can and face what I must because I am alive. Because I am alive, I must act like it. Show it. Believe it. Know it. Because I am alive, I write this, you read this and in this moment, we are not alone. 

10TH FEBRUARY 2024 - FRIDAY 

I’m writing this in Korea. I am spending some time in and around Busan and Seoul. It is wintertime and I left the home today in five layers of clothing. In Malaysia, if I sleep in places with air conditioning, it is always set to 21 degrees and above because I am an infant of tropical climates and anything other than heat, rainfall or humidity is alien to me. From the 13th of January, I was hosting Sarby’s friend, Hyeongki in Kuala Lumpur. Hyeongki is Sarby’s friend from university. A 23 year old Korean Gen Z buddy. We exchanged cultures and ideas. Opinions and curse words in our native languages. M and I took him around KL getting Ramly burgers after hours and on family dinners. This was our first time hosting someone from another country in our own space and I think we were more excited than Hyeongki was in every activity we brought him to do. He told me how happy he was to be in Malaysia, how friendly everyone is, how great our food is and how different it all was from where he came from. I didn’t understand what he meant until now. People mostly keep to themselves here. My complimenting a stranger is not charming in this part of the world. I have to assimilate and shut up. Don’t make eye contact and not speak unless spoken to. At first I felt the disparity astounding, now, I find it liberating. It’s not that people are antisocial or selfish, they really just couldn’t care less about what you are up to or who you are. I can chameleon my way through everyday completely unnoticed and undisturbed. I am looking on the bright side because it is in fact a freer way of living as opposed to being observed for your every action. 

Then again, I am very new to this geography and am basing this off of my small first hand experience and matching it to the second hand stories told to me by Hyeongki, Sarby. I feel happy and lucky to experience this and to do so with my loved ones. I got to go to Sarby’s apartment that I’ve only ever seen through video calls for the past few years. I met her cat, Mitski, who I’ve seen grow up in front of my eyes virtually since he was a baby saved from a car engine, to the distinguished gentleman that he has now become. Yesterday I ate a really spicy Kimchi with the fattest seafood finds from the bellies of Busan. I ate so much, so fast I think my tongue grinned so wide. I have made a habit of saying This Is The Best Day Of My Life over getting M to make me a delicious smoothie or completing my to-do list, finishing a new series or having a hot meal when I want to because I really believe that it is. Everyday I am alive is another best day of my life and I am excited to explore every unexpected crevice of life’s non promise to me. Well anyways I’m typing this outdoors on my telephone at 10PM and I say Thank God for spell check because I cannot feel my fingers at all (It is, factually, currently exactly 0 degrees Celsius as I write this) When I return to Malaysia, and I will, there will be a few upcoming art shows that my work is a part of and I am looking forward to talk to you about. It is not that I have disconnected at all, I’m here. I took some time so I can speak to you with confident clarity and assurance. To tell you, hey, I am taking care of myself and I am well. Also that I’ve just been busy with being being being being in and apart of this wide world, participating and doing. The fast cars and buses that pass by me don’t think about the complexities of my existence. In fact, they don’t think of me at all. It’s just one small me, at this bus stop, drunk on life and fighting freezing feverishness. Haha ha, OK, not funny. OK, that’s all for now. Thank you for reading and til next time, my friends.