Frankie : The Early Years

"What th' heck is a Frankie?" I asked one day after being called that for the Nth time by one Mr Francis Lee. Apparently, I have a standard photographic pose much like Lyd's 'The Angle'. Thus, the Frankie Files were created to document this peculiar phenomenon.

Nobody really knows where or when the Frankie came into being, but because I'm feeling generous and nostalgic, you get to see (for a limited time only) the Frankie Evolution. Behold.



Next up- Frankie : The Next Generation.

Caption th' Pic of the Day

"Little did they know that one day, young Grac would be a Marlboro Reds girl instead. Oh, the irony!"

Who the hell was th' photographer? Had he/she no concept of composition? Why the hell am I wearing that dress? And what's with the fur on my head? Was I drugged as a child? I have no recollection of my childhood- maybe it was all that booze and cigarettes.'

Coming up next : The Drugs, Sex, Rock and Roll.

Thursday Telegraph : am alive stop cease poking stop grunt stop

Will refuse to write til holiday nonsense goes away. Am lazy. Brain as dry as shallow well in Djibouti. Quit bugging me. Eve and Cerridwen can sell pirated DVDs and Darcy can join International Red Cross for all I care.

In th' meantime, DO ME! (Anyone who gets 100... well, that means you gotta stop hanging out with me so much. Geez- have you no other friends?)

Grac Goes On A Holiday

Bah humbug. Have I ever told you I dislike celebrations of any sort? I'm going to bury my head in the sand and hibernate til it all goes away. Won't be writing unless anything particularly blogworthy creeps up on me. Otherwise, its holiday family stress and a happy new year! Hoho.

By the way, did you know Jesus was born in September in the year 4 B.C. or 5 B.C.?

"Say, Jesus- when were you born?"
"Oh, 'bout four years before... well, Me."

Weekday Postcards : Monday Morning Rain Is Falling

Obviously, I missed the nationwide memo that said to sleep in this morning since it was such a great day to snuggle in, lulled by the gentle sound of rainfall. But no, I had to go to work and make phone calls to everyone else who didn’t. This new Risk Communication program I’m working on is great- anyone wanna buy a workshop?

Communications people are so hard to get. I dunno why they’re never around to answer the phone. I have this list of the PR officers in all the government departments and they’re never in the office or they don’t pick up their phones. Hello? Which part of Public Relations in their job title don't they get? I’m a public and I want relations with you. Pick up your phone!

To Wong Foo Mun Yee, With Love...

Warning / Disclaimer : Episode 7 of Lessons. Sap/Kleenex Alert. I am not responsible if you feel squicked after reading this post. You probably asked for it. Hah. Serves you right.

“Everything’s gonna be alright.”

There was a birthday party in my house. I am not very fond of having birthday parties and I’m none-too-crazy about birthdays either. Think about it- what are you *really* celebrating? The miracle of birth is just too squicky when it involves me, regardless of whether I’m the birther or birthee. Nevertheless, I am thankful that my mother passed me through her birth canal rather successfully. Congratulations all ‘round- happy birthday, me. Woo. But I digress, there is just something indefinable about birthdays that make me solemn and introspective. (And it not the issue of aging, either.)

Anyhow, as I was saying- there I was preparing for this big birthday bash of mine in my introspective mood and close to tears (I really didn’t know why). Chan Foong Yee arrived and told me that Red was on her way. It was like a palpable weight off my shoulders and I was instantly relieved, thinking “Red’s coming. Everything is going to be okay now.” I was soon swamped with the stress of entertaining, preparing food and getting into truly heart-breaking arguments with family members- all this whilst crying like crazy in front of everybody. I mean, there were tears and snot running about unchecked and I was practically wailing. I actually cried myself awake (and I’m truly glad this has happened to me only twice in my life). The dream was just so upsetting that I was still crying softly, bewilderedly wiping at the tears. The details escaped me, but the emotions did not. Right then, all I could recall was that dream!Red was on her way and that she would make everything alright.

“Boy, I wish I could call her”

If something bad happens to me or I get into trouble- mouth dry, heart thumping, stomach in throat; all I gotta do is think “Boy, I wish I could call Red and tell her” and I’d feel better immediately (well, eventually). I’d calm down slightly and laugh at how she’d probably call me an idiot and we would proclaim it ‘The Worst Day Of My Life’ or ‘The Stupidest Thing I’ve Ever Done’. Sometimes, its ‘The Stupidest Thing I’ve Ever Done On The Worst Day Of My Life’. That’s a big one and usually requires at least two hours of being cussed out and eventually being teased over it till I laugh. If something great happens to me or I see something that makes me happy, I’d itch to call her as well to share the joy. The happy event becomes euphoric just by thinking about calling and telling her. Not that she’d be in fits of delight or ecstasies. More often than not, she’d just grunt at my tale and go “so desu ka?”

It’s funny. Judging by my Raving of Red, you must think we speak daily, do you not? Heh. Sorry to disappoint, but we hardly speak or even see each other online with any sort of frequency, if at all. Our phone calls to each other are mostly long periods of silence, but we try not to do it so much anymore. We met in secondary school but were never in the same classes or sports house- we suspect the teachers must have had a hand in this. The only reason why I signed up for softball was so that we could at least be in the same club before our final year. And that one afternoon a week of tossing the dumb ball back and forth for hours was our idea of doing something fun together. Actually, I think the only picture we have together is that grainy tiny-assed Kelab Softball photo in the school magazine. I don’t recall taking any other pictures together, do you? And you call yourself a photographer. Hello? Willing best friend model here!

College meant Subang Taipan for Red and smackdab downtown K-Hell for me- opposite sides of the universe. We’ve only ever watched two or three movies together (Mousehunt and Stuart Little, can you believe it?) I’ve been to her house six times and had dinner there once. She’s been to mine a million more than six times and stayed over twice. We watched Disney’s Hunchback on my cr*p VCR once, remember? We can go to Starbucks and sit for hours without talking. Dumb movies and coffee seem to be the only two reasons we go out, doesn’t it? Oh yeah. Of late, we’ve been going out for drinking sessions that once ended up with us so drunk we sat on the kaki lima of Bangsar somberly confessing our eternal loyalty for each other and our deepest, darkest fears. LOL! By the way, that was a Truly Great Night. I’m glad I shared it with you, bud.

“Oh, my best friend can do that too.”

My best friend has superpowers. She can make everything alright merely by existing. She makes me feel immediately better just by *thinking* about how good it’d be if I could call her and tell her my problems. She can make me feel like the smartest person in the universe just by asking me questions and listening to me. I know a lot of people think she does not exist, or that I have many, many best friends because its always, “Oh, my best friend is an amazing photographer. She draws too.” Or “I got a friend that plays at least four instruments really well too.” “My friend’s a bartender. In Japan.” “Yeah, my best friend can speak five languages, at least.” “Sound engineering? Hey, my best friend’s a sound engineer, y’know.” “Wow, I got a friend who’s an X-Files fan too!”. No one realizes that I am usually talking about the same person, or if they do I bet they think I’m making up this incredible person that can do everything under the sun. Probably because of this : “What she’s studying? Oh, uh- some computer thing. I’m not sure. Multimedia or something like that. Dunno.” Shrug. LOL!

“Happy Birthday, bud” “You mean, belated.” “Uh, yeah.”

13/11/2005, 9 pm (One day after Red’s Birthday, which I missed was not online for)
Red : Hey
Grac : ?
Red : how come you don't change your blog colour on my bday?!
Grac : lol- then everyone'd expect me to do it for their birthdays... if it helps, i wore red yesterday
Red : no it doesn't help
Grac : hm- i'll write ya an epic poem and post a pic of me in my red underwear for you then
Red : agreed

Ah, jealousy rears its rather unattractive head which vaguely looks like yours. LOL! Kidding, dude. How could you possibly be jealous when you know you’ll always be the only one? *snorts* (Heh. Sap Alert!) I could never write you a poem. How could I ever fit you into the confines of one? Poems mean meters and rhythm and all sorts of rules that would never fit everything I want to say about you. Thus, I write you this love letter. The first and only love letter I’d ever write to a human being not related to me by blood. And if you know me like you do, you’d know that I’d never write love letters to anyone else till I’m very certain the Husband ain’t gonna leave me and its too late to anyway. I’m not the sort who’d get a tattoo of their boyfriend’s names on their arses.

Happy belated birthday, dude. It’ll be a great year for you, I’m certain. How dare it be otherwise?

All my love*,
Grace

PS – *Not like that, you pervs.

PPS - Cheer up, They can’t be there forever… if they are, give me their address and I’ll TP their house up over here. It’s rainy season now and I’ll use good quality 4-ply toilet paper.

--------------------------
Quote from our IM sessions.

Red : Dude…
Red : I can't believe that I have nothing paranoid to tell you
Grac : finally.
Grac : our lives are perfect.

Scene from real life (August 2005)

[Scene : Red and Grac meet up for the first time after a whole year of Red being in Japan. Red pulls up in her car to Grac's house. Grac opens car door with goofy grin.]
Grac : Hey.
Red : Hey. Where're we going?
Grac : Dunno. Up to you.
Red : Mamak?
Grac : Cool.
Red : Where?
Grac : Just drive.

(And I swear, I'm not making these up. I have no need to.)
--------------------------

Weekend Postcards : Miracle Sunday

“Chocolate Milk and Whales In Ice”

Every week I’m on CHAMPS duty is a Miracle Sunday for me. This Sunday was no exception. Thank God for my CHAMPS team- I couldn’t have asked for a better team (okay, so I could. But the fact that they were assigned to me makes it more the more miraculous). Granted, Andrew was missing and I forgot to remind Su Ann to come- but I had super-dependable Wan Ling and on-the-fly stoic Ken Han. The kids were as well behaved as they could physically be. Principal Carol had to threaten detention and I had to ply them with Cheap Plastic Gifts. My teachers were oblivious about the short-staffing and so incredibly calm about our under-preparation. They rock.

Teacher Wan Ling gave a powerpoint presentation on the Bible Story for the day in her ‘stone’ (and I quote Ken Han here) voice. The remarkable thing was the kids remembered every detail of the long narration when I needed to refer to the lesson plan to ask them review questions after. Have I told you lately that Teacher Wan Ling rocks harder than a Gwen Stefani concert? (I think she’s having exams or something, even.)

I have never seen Teacher Ken Han give a more inspired Object Lesson. Chocolate milk and clear plastic cups- tied into a lesson about giving more praise to God that even *I* can understand. While I was in the PA box panicking about the next segment (which was- well, nothing); I could hear Ken Han’s voice tense up slightly. Looking up, I saw Senior Pastor Joshua (*dum dum dahh*) grinning like a loon from the back of the hall. Y’know, that goofy grin he has when he’s overly pleased about something. The only thing scarier than having Pastor Josh dropping in on you is to have Deputy Senior Pastor Carey watching you teach. Teacher Ken Han was flawless. You go, bro!

I didn’t mean to, but somewhere in between asking review questions and giving them Cheap Plastic Gifts I started talking about whales, holes in the ice and the open ocean. It was the second Object Lesson I’d read but didn’t understand. I wasn’t thinking about what to say next, it was more like - ‘dude, what the heck am I talking about?’ The words just flowed and I made the most amazing allegory about praise and worship every Sunday like a breath of air for the soul until we reach the open ocean and exist in a state of open worship. Never in my life have I had words so profound and powerful come out of my mouth. It was so good I almost cried. There is no way in all of creation that those words came out of me. Probably the closest thing to an out-of-body experience that I’d ever have.

Lydia came down from her Mini-CHAMPS just in time for me to assign game team leaders for ‘Team Flydia’ and ‘Team Fen Han’. Team Fen Han had the obvious lead with thirteen Bible-Carriers to Team Flydia’s nine. ‘Course, the fact that Teacher Fen Han’s team was twice the size of Teacher Flydia’s group had something to do with it. We all made paper airplanes and the objective was to see whose plane flew furthest. The glaring flaw in that game was- firstly, the lack of space we had to throw th’ planes. Secondly, that they’d run to the front screaming like kamikaze pilots to throw said planes at us point blank. I crouched down screaming, “Not the face! Not the face!” Thank God I was wearing two layers of clothing. I think I have tiny pock-marked bruises on my back.
Ah, who cares about order? I threw my hands up in defeat and let ‘em run wild. After all, they’d been so incredibly good today. I’d survived another Sunday lock-down with a hall full of First Service CHAMPS Kids- I went where lesser mortals feared to tread. My liver is safe for another week from those little savages. Life is good. This feeling is what keeps me coming back week after week, year after year. Nothing like it.

“Noisiest row dismisses last! Straighten your chairs in 10…9…8…” I didn’t even have to keep the Standard 4 Boys for our weekly ‘Special Care Group’ detention. *sigh* Life is so good.

Snapshots and Thoughts To Keep Forever

~ My first thought on entering the Hall : ‘The kids outnumber us twenty-to-one, but as long as they don’t know that, we should be fine.’

~ Weldon going ‘aieeeee!’ in the highest-pitch scream I’d heard from a boy and throwing paper planes at me point blank. He’d throw ‘em, pick ‘em up from the floor and throw them again with alarming swiftness. It feels like being repeatedly poked in the back with tiny fingers.

~ “Why? Why you don’t come teach us anymore?” From Heather in Mini-CHAMPS and a few other kids from Second-Service CHAMPS. My heart just melted and I gave my standard answer- “Because you all so naughty I scared of you already.”

~ Timothy the Tiny Ten-Year-Old Terror waving his arm at me frantically all throughout Question Time although he didn’t know the answers. I gave him Cheap Plastic Gifts anyway. It gives me the fuzzies to realize that he’d been sooo incredibly good- he hardly ran about at all.

~ Note : Teacher Fen Han owes the kids a 3-minute dance. Maybe he can do the Cha-Cha Song with Teacher ‘Hey, Mr Naidu’ Flydia.

~ I want a T-shirt that says- “I Am a First-Service CHAMPS Teacher. (If you see me running, try to keep up!)” or “Second-Service CHAMPS Teachers Are Wusses.” (of course, the latter would get me beaten up by people on a regular basis)

~ A tiny PDsode : *gasp* Joey is sooooo cute! Such a big girl now! I MISS THE MINI-CHAMPS!!

~ Seven-year-old Eunice passing about a small jar of raspberry-flavored lip balm. Nuff sed.

~ While we were counting Bible-Carriers, I had a matter-of-fact conversation with the Standard One Girls about brushing your lips when you brush your teeth because lipstick looks bad on chapped dry lips. So, Jaimes- if your little sister starts brushing her lips, you now know its my fault.

~ Thank you Teacher Flydia for helping. We’ll get a “I Teach BOTH First & Second Service CHAMPS. So There.” for you.

~ My CHAMPS class – Its almost as good as seeing the lame walk and the blind receive sight.

~ Final thoughts : Dude, not me. Just Him.