Dear Everybody

Published December 2011




Dear Everybody, 


Hello there.

It’s been about two and a half months since my last bit of frenzied scribbling and a lot has happened in that time.

When last we met I was an entirely different creature. I was going through the motions of a groan-worthy daily grind where I felt unmotivated, overlooked, underappreciated and was dealing with multiple sources of stress all at one go. Accuse me of self-pity if you like. I won’t hold it against you. One good look at my bedraggled demeanor and you would have agreed that I was a person reaching the end of my frazzled tether.

When it was time to call a spade a spade, I gave myself a figurative smack upside the head in an effort to shed this whiney and impotent personality I was developing. In a moment of crucial self-preservation, I finally realized that a rest was needed.

Not just a week spent tucked away under my duvet with takeaways for company. No, I needed to completely disengage from the brain-dead zombie I felt I was morphing into. It was time to make permanent changes. It was clear to those around me that I was merely existing – by no means was I living. So I said goodbye to a life where I spent almost every day working, dragging my feet from one bland day to the next. And I set upon a new path.

I am currently on a bit of a mind, body and soul break. Doing what I want, when I want. Ensuring that my activities make me happy. Focusing on loved ones and close friends. At the risk of sounding corny I am finally able to take real pleasure in the little things. A three-movie marathon at the cinema. A much-needed trip back home because I felt like it. Long lunches that turn into dinners because we’re having so much fun, no one wants to leave yet.

And laughter. There is definitely much more laughter.

You could assume these activities are rudimentary at best. I would be in no position to argue with you. Shouldn’t I be out there traversing the globe; using this time to broaden my horizons, hug trees and pet pandas? Granted, my latest accomplishments might not seem awfully honorable or even noteworthy – but there was never any intention for that in the first place. To put it simply, I just needed to do what I wanted to do.

The ironic thing about this situation is that even though I now have all the time in the world, I am hell-bent on not wasting it – especially on fruitless pursuits and persons of low caliber. Changes are afoot, and I will do whatever is required to make sure that I will never return to my former way of life. The momentum of life tends to lean forward, doesn’t it?

When I spoke of my plans to a few trusted friends, naturally they voiced their concerns. How long would I be able to function without having a proper 9 to 6 schedule? Wasn’t I a little too young, at 34, to think of ‘retiring’? Exactly how long did I intend to just do nothing for? And what did I ultimately hope to accomplish?

Fair questions, all. And let me assure you that I have not spent my time uselessly. There has been plenty to keep me suitably busy and I have something up my sleeve, planned for the future. Just not yet, though. I still want to enjoy the slower pace of things for a little longer.

For now I am in a place where I am fully able to be grateful for the blessings and good fortune I’ve had in my life. I used to be incapable of this simple exercise of gratitude. Not because of selfishness or ego, but because I was once so miserable I couldn’t see past my own blinders, convinced that I was never going to experience joy or happiness again. I am pleased to state that what I once believed is now wrong.

For today you can think of me as someone who is taking a solid block of time off to think, to breathe and to just be. I’m in the here and now. For once I’m not rushing off anywhere, worrying about tomorrow or the day after that. And I can’t even begin to fully describe how fantastic this feels.

There is nothing wrong in wondering about what else could be out there. New places, new experiences, new people, new lives, new loves. If one door has shut, another door is waiting to be found and flung wide open. 

As beloved poet and renaissance woman Maya Angelou puts it, “Life loves to be taken by the lapel and told: ‘I’m with you kid. Let’s go.’”

By far the best marching orders I’ve ever come across.

A Little Rant

Published September 2011

Today's piece may raise a couple of hackles but I'm prepared for it. I'm writing because I am tired of seeing how discourse on hot news topics can become easily distorted and spiral out of control. If the end result is a positive one, I suppose I could try to slightly overlook the whole 'means to an end' argument. But let's not get silly about it, people. Please.

I am all for Facebook pages that highlight important issues such as human, land, environmental and animal rights. They provide a valuable service as they're usually the most suitable arena for general interaction with like-minded individuals. These pages are perfect for NGOs and the like, to disseminate appropriate and relevant information. I'm a fan of quite a few Sabah-based pages and while I never really comment or get involved in the discussion (I've often believed that if I don't have enough knowledge on a topic, I'm better off keeping quiet), I do observe.

But now, it's as though I'm reaching the end of my tether. I feel inundated with speculative urban legends, facts that get distorted and comments that are based on emotion rather than logic. I've been paying particular attention across the board to discussions regarding a recent article in the media about several plots of land on three privately owned islands off our waters which are apparently up for sale.

While I strongly agree that it's important to educate ourselves on what can and can't be done in the state, I came across comments from people who jumped to several different conclusions with gusto, tarring this seemingly straightforward, albeit interesting topic with that of the controversial sale of Labuan island to the Federal government.

I'm from Labuan. I suppose that's why I felt a little sensitive towards the sweeping generalizations from certain individuals shouting from their proverbial rooftops about how we're losing our heritage to foreigners. A few other misplaced points were brought up, and the discussion was steered completely off-topic.

I was perplexed as I genuinely wanted to learn and find out more about the issue of the three islands but instead it felt as though I was witnessing a blind-leading-the-blind exercise in futility. I am grateful to those who shared sensible, intelligent information, but sadly they were the minority. I couldn't help but wish the rest would just stop to read. More importantly, I wished that they would stop to really think.

As many of us look to these pages to get clear, unbiased updates, my point is very simply this: Can we just check our emotions at the door and let relevance reign?

I shudder to think at what some readers are taking away with them from discussions such as these, as unfounded statements based solely on opinion without fact can lead to irresponsible behaviour. Wrong assumptions have the potential to turn into volatile, dangerous things. At best, they are irritating.

I agree with the need to keep a watchful eye on the goings-on in our own backyards. After all, if we didn't love Sabah we wouldn't care. But let's please keep things in order. Otherwise when the next hot topic pops up I might not even want to pay attention. One can only cry wolf so many times.

The Downside of Hotness

Published September 2011

While I'll readily admit to a large number of personality flaws (character building flaws, I hasten to add), the one thing I am not is shallow. Even though I enjoy the companionship of relatively good looking individuals on a regular basis (lucky me), I've often believed that while visually great first impressions may be important, there'd better be a sound personality behind those looks.

Growing up looking the way that I did, it wasn't easy being fat as a toddler who then morphed into an awkward, gangly pre-teen. This spate of biological angst lasted a few more years until I discovered sports. Life was good as a jock for the most part and stayed with me for a large majority of my early to mid 20s. Admittedly I allowed myself to 'develop' in the girth area as I started hitting work and the bars harder and the gym less. I blame no one but myself. And my propensity towards happy hour.

I have long accepted that I will never be a ravishing beauty. My looks are passable at best. If pressed, some would describe me as 'cute', but they are the minority. I have skin that breaks out if you even look at it wrong, a ridiculous amount of body hair which I do battle with on a regular basis (I blame my ethnicity. And my dad's genes), deep set eyes which are so laden with baggage I look like a stoned raccoon and I have a nose. Not just any nose, I have a snout. You'd have to see it to believe it. But all things considered, I'd like to think that I've been able to use whatever few advantages I have to my benefit in a variety of ways. Having a disturbing sense of humour is a great way to get people to remember you. 

Drinking them under the table might be another too.

With all the less-than-desirable physical qualities I possess, one would imagine that I have a difficult time meeting people but it's not that hard. You just have to let your personality (if you actually do have one. You'd be surprised at how many people this applies to) do the talking for you. And I know it seems as though natural selection will always win out – superior physical attributes and genetics ensure a great head start in life. We've been inundated with images and findings that good looking people are treated better in life and end up making more money in the long run. Until recently I often believed that looks would get you far in life, and resigned myself to an adulthood spent in abject loneliness, with a bottle of soju for company.

This morning I came across an article that made me want to back the truck up. Everything I believed while staring depressingly into a mirror wasn't true after all.

Being gorgeous isn't always a good thing and I snorted with joy at the realization of this. A paper by University California, Santa Barbara in 2009 studied the mating patterns of fruit flies. True you may not necessarily be of the insect species but it might interest you to learn that male flies found certain female flies too attractive to mate with – hence, these winged hotties were at a biological disadvantage because of what the male flies perceived to be too attractive and this interfered with the female's ability to function biologically, normally.

The biologists at UC Santa Barbara are quoted as stating that “among fruit flies, too much male attention directed toward attractive females leads to smaller families and, ultimately, to a reduced rate of population-wide adaptive evolution.”

Even if we were to loosely apply this formulae to humans of the hot variety, this does make a little sense if you think about it. And I'm using my hundreds of hours spent being a barfly (the puns, the puns), observing people around me. Attractive women will almost always get more than their fair share of male attention. Whether or not it's attention that is wanted or required is a different matter altogether. The point is they'll get it. The second point to realize is that said attention may or may not always come from an ideal future mate. Actually, scratch that. 9 times out of 10 it never comes from an ideal mate. The UCSB paper further explains that the female flies are “disproportionately courted and harassed by males attempting to obtain matings”. Sounds like a typical night out at almost every club I can think of, complete with drunken suitors bursting at the seams with what can only be described as male bravado messily paired with Dutch courage. It's never a pretty sight as they zero in on the hotties, convinced of their stellar moves and lightning smooth abilities.

While this is all highly entertaining for me, most times I'm not sure if I should sit back and enjoy the show, or pity the poor fools. And with the onslaught of wannabe Alphas, the nice guys – the ones that would probably make for the best mates – have a harder time even coming within earshot of the hotties, sometimes due to intimidation at someone's physical attractiveness, most times due to the fact that the object of affection is probably already surrounded by more aggressive suitors.

So what is my summation apart from the fact that good looking women get taken down a little peg in an almost pointless study? Hotties have problems just like the rest of us after all. The flipside here is that life might be the teensiest bit fair after all. In the meantime I'll just sit and wait for my lunch to be served, observing the sexual stereotype of the overweight, balding, rich old dude at the table next to me fawning over a pretty young thing coquettishly playing with her food. Perhaps some things don't change after all.

Sometimes, There Is No Accounting For Taste

Published August 2011

I will be the first to admit that I am a typical hypocrite. I write, but I hardly read. I give advice but I rarely take it. I say black when what I really mean is white. And you know those people who are fully capable of enjoying a movie without having read the book? Yes, I'm that woman. And if I hear someone saying “But the book was so much better than the film,” just one more time, I shall do them, and quite possibly myself, an injury. Sadly I am unable to think if a situation where it is the other way around vis a vis film and novel. If you have an example of a film that's either been turned into a book or is better than the book, please let me know.

Now I have to come clean and admit that I love the Twilight movies. Sigh and roll your eyes if you must, I understand and don't hold it against you. I've not read the books and although I have nothing but respect for Stephanie Meyer, I don't see myself veering off to the Young Adult section of the bookshop to pick up any of her literary offerings in a hurry. Apparently not only am I a typical hypocrite, I'm a snob to boot.

In all honestly I wasn't aware of the popularity of her novels until the first film came out. I trundled along to watch it with the rest of the world, not knowing exactly what to expect but remembering that I had low expectations, having already suffered through a few stinkers in the weeks prior. Anyone who knows me would have a hard time believing that I, Shan Sandhu, would willingly go to the cinema, under no duress, and pay good money to be crammed into a funky- smelling, battered cinema with a large number of teenagers. I could almost feel the surge of young, angsty hormones floating around, no doubt brought about by the prospect of swooning over Robert Pattinson's Edward character for 2 hours. Yep that pale guy who sparkles when he's in sunlight, whose constantly pained expression makes him look as though he's got a volatile rumbly tummy.

It is not that I am a glutton for punishment, and trust me, I am very fussy about the movies I do watch. The only reason that I was sat in my seat, glued to the big screen was due to one very important factor: The movie had vampires in it. True story. I love me a good vampire or werewolf movie I do. I don't enjoy sci-fi and I'm not a fan of the general horror genre at large. You can keep the machete-wielding guys in hockey masks. I'll just take my vampies and my wolfies, thanks.

While we're on the subject, I remember that feeling of pure joy and abject happiness when the first Underworld movie made its rounds; vamps versus werewolves and Kate Beckinsdale in all her black leather hunter broodiness. Awesome, awesome movie. Low on the horror scale but still highly watchable. I've got fond memories of much-loved films such as The Howling (Part 1. Only), Bram Stoker's Dracula (visual mastery from Francis Ford Coppola. A stellar cast. However, I am unable to explain Keanu Reeves), Salem's Lot (the 2004 version with Rob Lowe, Donald Sutherland and Rutger Hauer kept me up nights) and my personal favourite, An American Werewolf In London. I have the director's cut on dvd and it cost me about RM200 at the time but I never once regretted that purchase and I still watch it from time to time.

What I enjoyed about An American Werewolf was that it got the job done. I sat, I watched, I laughed at the right parts, I got scared when I was supposed to, I hid under my duvet, I fast-forwarded the gory bits, I avoided empty tube stations from then on, and CCR's Bad Moon Risin' will always give me a little shiver each time I hear it. Even a family holiday to London many years ago left me with a queasy, anxious feeling especially while walking around Leicester Square – the location of the most pivotal scenes in the movie. To my mind , American Werewolf delivered what any good vamp/were movie should. A scare so good it was visceral.

But back to Twilight. I was aware that it was campy, teenage love stuff but what I wasn't prepared for was how reeled in I became. Could Edward save Bella in time and stop James? Would Bella's hair ever look anything other than perfect? In the greater scheme of things who cares, right? Well I did. I gave in, sat back and enjoyed the film for what it was: Entertainment. And when I found out that the subsquent films featured werewolves I was sold - even if they're ridiculously handsome, ethical, morally sound wolfies who don't go around eating people willy-nilly.

Granted the Twilight flicks are not your usual bloody, gory fare, in fact I don't think the vamps even have fangs, but like I said: I'm a typical hypocrite.

What They Might Not Tell You In The Guide Books

Published August 2011

Over the past few years I've often found myself acting as unofficial trip advisor to friends and friends-of-friends visiting Kota Kinabalu for the first time. I've finally realised that I have a set number of practices as to places we visit together (if the person I'm with enjoys a drink, my life becomes easier tenfold) and bits of advice on where to go and what to do.

Bearing in mind that I am not exactly a Lonely Planet guide book, nor am I here to arrange sightseeing tours (you're capable, do it yourself) I decided to examine the most common little 'suggestions' I've often given to visitors in the past. These are only some of the main points I find myself repeating regularly. There are quite a few more but in an effort to keep today's column comfortably readable, I'll stick to three points:

ISLAND STUFF

When visiting any of the five islands (Manukan, Sapi, Sulug, Mamutik and Gaya) in Tunku Abdul Rahman Park always be mindful of times and days. For example, if you head over to to an island of your choice at around 9:30am on a normal working day, the chances are high that you will be able to grab a prime spot for sun-worshipping or a good table under the shade. You'll be in island bliss while the rest of the tourists are still working their way through the breakfast buffet lines at their respective hotels.

Granted there is no guarantee that these spots will be entirely free of sand flies, red ants or assorted other pests (I'm thinking of the two-legged variety) but at least you'll be able to grab a few hours of lazy fun before the hordes make their way over from the mainland. Also, the further you get from the jetty, the quieter it may be. But if you're lugging around an eskie or assorted lilos, it can work out to be quite the hike back to catch your boat.

Be aware that Sapi island is home to macaque monkeys; they've been known to make off with sunbathers' belongings so be vigilant – they seem to be attracted to shiny things and plastic bags. Keep clear of the resident monitor lizards who will head over to say hello especially if they smell food. Please resist the urge to get too close, or to feed them. This goes for the monkeys too.

While we're on the topic of islands, it is best to return to the mainland between 3pm to 4pm. No matter how sunny of a day it is, the winds tend to change and the boat ride back any later can become quite choppy.

FOOD STUFF

Seafood is another highlight for visitors to KK. At the risk of being blunt, don't assume that just because a shop or a restaurant appears 'simple' or basic that their prices will hover around rock bottom. This goes double for bars and pubs. When in doubt, ask. Unsure of standards? For the most part the general rule of thumb is very simply this: If the place is packed, the food is usually good. Do note that this may not necessarily apply to a bar that happens to serve food. But I'm sure you can figure that out for yourself.

If you're waiting for a table take the time to have a discreet look at what diners are tucking in to. If unsure, there is absolutely no harm in asking politely. I still do that on occasion, especially when trying out a restaurant or coffee shop for the first time. I've actually made a few friends that way, and was introduced to the best laksa I've ever had.

TRAFFIC STUFF

Yes. Traffic. Never, ever make the mistake of underestimating KK's traffic. You will end up suffering dearly. I have lost track of the number of times visitors from cities such as Kuala Lumpur, Jakarta and Bangkok have looked down their noses at me when I've told them to be aware of peak hour traffic in KK. “You don't know what a traffic jam is until you've been in one of ours,” is the generic, often sarcastically snorted reply.

True, but KK is unique in the sense that a trip that could take two minutes driving time may stretch up an hour sometimes. I am not making this up because I've been stuck in a crawl like this before. The days leading up to any one of our many religious celebrations and public holidays are usually manic as everyone tries to get their shopping out of the way. But there has been the odd day when traffic magically appears with no warning. I can't stress this enough, be prepared for anything. The roads in our city centre are not quite equipped to deal with the amount of vehicles heading (usually) into town while the number of car owners are increasing on a daily basis. Also, there is no excuse for inconsiderate drivers, of which we are stuffed to the brim with, so I won't even touch on this subject. I suspect, however, they don't help with the problems either.

If you've got a flight to catch or an appointment to keep, please find out more about the traffic situation in your area before you pick a time to head off.

These are the few that I can think of at the moment. As is with travel anywhere else, be aware of your surroundings, be polite, be respectful and keep an open mind. Sabah has its special moments and if you're too busy being judgemental or comparing it to other cities, you might just blink and miss something special.

Tiring of Reality TV

Published August 2011

Reality television. It really is turning into the bane of my existence. Channel surf these days and one would be hard pressed to miss such programs that are invading with an almost pandemic ferocity.

The 'Next Top Model' shows, the 'I Can Dance/You Can Dance/We All Can Dance' efforts and the 'Looking For True Love With A Bunch Of Strangers' offerings – these are just the proverbial cherries on the mountain of mindless small screen drivel that is seriously starting to hurt my gray matter, otherwise known as a brain.

I am aware that there are some great shows, like The Biggest Loser and American Idol for example, which in my opinion set the benchmark for what the end-game purpose of these programs should be – namely to positively change the lives of contestants and participants. But the rest? It's difficult to find a reasonable explanation other than to judge and jump to sweeping generalizations about money hungry glory hounds looking for their 15 minutes of fame and celebrity has-beens trying to inch their way back into the spotlight.

But perhaps I'm being a bit harsh. As mentioned, there are pros to reality television. Sadly, I think I'm starting to lose sight of that. I'm someone who couch potates on a very regular basis. I don't read for relaxation as a large majority of my work requires a ton of reading so the only real way for me to unwind is to lie in front of the telly on weekends. My whole point of loving television is that it provides me with a bit of escapism from the daily grind. But with the onslaught of this sort of programming? Not so much. Again, not all shows are bad. Some really do break the mould and try their best to stay away from the sadly predictable formulas that a lot of these programs have adopted time and time again. Unfortunately, they are the minority, not the norm.

But why do people, in spite of themselves, still watch reality tv? Is it due to the prospect of passive voyeurism? That we are secretly eager to observe the (supposedly unscripted) nitty gritty of the daily lives of others? I read somewhere that one of the main reasons for the popularity of reality shows is because audience members feel as though they can relate to the participants. I had a bit of trouble getting my head around that initially but in hindsight it does come across as a reasonable explanation, as seeped in fantasy as it sounds.

Now my biggest concern is the future of such entertainment. Will we, the public, tire of shabby plots and worn out ideas? I, for one, look forward to the day when well-crafted, witty and original shows return. In the meantime all I can do is patiently wait for the death rattle of reality television.

Libra No Longer

Published August 2011

In January of this year we were made aware of a shocking discovery: There was a 13^th zodiac sign. Astronomers the world over called for a rehaul of Western astrology and the signs as we know them. Why or how did this happen? I honestly don't really care but for the sake of some form of journalistic integrity, let's just say it had something to do with the moon's gravitational pull on the earth over thousands of years. Google it yourself, that's about all the science you're going to get from me.

Oh sure, I know that horoscopes, just like tales of the monster hiding in your closet, are not to be taken seriously (though my 8 year old self would have strongly disagreed). And for the large part, horoscopes are a bit of harmless fun and fluff. All my years of smugly excusing my behaviour on the fact that I was a wiffly-waffly Libran were suddenly thrown out the window. Imagine a movie montage if you will, of all the times I'd happily said “Oh that's because I'm a Libran. We're so indecisive / self-indulgent / flirtatious / frivolous / lazy / prone to navel contemplation” and how it all came flooding back. I was not pleased at these new turn of events. Imagine an artist having her license revoked. Handcuffed, caged, impotent. That's how I felt. Especially when it was made known to me that I had, thanks to the presence of that 13^th sign Ophiuchus (yeah, try saying that real fast 5 times), been turned into a Virgo.

No disrespect to Virgos intended. I take my hat off to you guys. It can't be easy always being referred to as the virgin in the group – but please understand that everything I had been made to believe from tacky yearly astrological almanac books with hearts on the cover suddenly didn't apply to me anymore. It shook me, I tell you. To my very core. Now you're probably wondering why anyone in this day and age would be so silly as to believe something a writer probably concocted while carrying out some mundane task such as sitting on the loo, churning out excerpts like “Today your heart will be as free as a bird” or “Discover a hidden talent which will bring you much joy” - you know, those old chestnuts. Once I regained my composure and stopped screaming obscenities at the computer I did a bit more reading online. Was I overreacting by behaving like an unhinged banshee? Or were there others that felt my pain?

Indeed there were. 'Lots and lots' would be the best way I could describe the (possibly) hundreds of thousands who were equally bewildered and confused, wondering if they should even bother to read their daily horoscopes any longer. Feeling somewhat lost, I imagine. And then there were those who simply refused to accept their new 'scopes. Stuck to their guns, they did and good on them. Though there has to be a little part of them that hurts every time they get to the comics page of the newspaper and just happen to glance through the horoscope section.

As for me, I've gone cold turkey. No more horror-scopes for me. If my heart isn't as free as a bird or I don't discover a hidden talent which will being me much joy, I don't think I'll mind too much. I'm too busy getting through and dealing with this thing we call life. That being said, I'll contradict myself and state that I'm still open to the philosophy of the Chinese zodiac. A Fire Snake if anyone's interested.  

Column Ideas That Could Have Been

Published August 2011

COLUMN IDEAS THAT COULD HAVE BEEN

In about 2 months, I will be saying goodbye to my job as chief scribbler and head troublemaker for a local online magazine, and will instead use the free time obtained to do various other things in an effort to really and truly get in touch with my psyche as well as my inner child - whom I fondly refer to as Mini Me. Truth be told I'm secretly a little pleased to be able to act my shoe size and not my age for a bit.

Love my job, love the company I work with and my colleagues are super individuals whom I've actually grown quite fond of, but I was starting to feel as though I had hit a creative plateau – sadly a common malady that strikes fear into the hearts and minds of fellow scribblers the world over.

It seems to have become a regular, almost healthy practice to accept that the shelf-life of most media related jobs is between 2 to 3 years. If you're feeling sluggish and even a little unmotivated you're not doing yourself, or the publication you're attached to, any favours.

While I look forward to the luxury of working at my own pace from my little office at home I plan to seriously focus on my personal writing and will also take up a few refresher classes online with the Gotham Writers' Workshop.

I also intend to pay more attention to this column. Fingers crossed I'll be able to churn out regular, somewhat intelligent writing.

Thanks to encouragement and motivation from some of my favourite op-ed writers around the region, I've been toying with ideas on how to sharpen the content of this column. “What gets you going?” one asked. “When something gets under my skin and I feel like complaining about it. Those pieces seem to be the most popular,” I replied somewhat complacently. Well, life is such that no one likes a whiner and I genuinely felt as though I was irritating myself (yes that is possible), trying to wax lyrical on existentialism and the winter of our discontent. It is much more fun writing about the random, often ridiculous thoughts that rattle around in my head and I was thinking about columns ideas that have been thankfully shelved and will not see the light of day.

Politics

Nope. Nyet. Nein. If there is one stance I've consistently maintained, it's that I have no business sticking my snout where it doesn't belong. I have a weak grasp of local and national politics at best. Better to leave this topic in the hands of my very capable counterparts – people who actually do know what they're talking and writing about – as opposed to my unsophisticated and uneducated take on world issues.

Happy Hour

While my alcohol-inspired gallivants around town are fun I doubt that anyone would want to read about how many gallons of the good stuff we've managed to quaff. I've had the privilege of partaking in some truly exceptional libations, and I've enjoyed some epic sessions thanks to generous, energetic mates who imbibe with equal enthusiasm - but would you honestly want to read about the beer before liquor rule or our adventures in upchucking? Natch, I didn't think so. Unless you really do. In which case, drop me an email. You sound like my kind of people. We should hang.

Candace Bushnell Influenced

Sex and the City's rapier wit, superb couture and global success aside, I was always taught to write about what I know. I am 10kg over my ideal weight, I do regular battle with bad skin, bad hair and bad teeth, and I look like I haven't slept in about a year. Marry that with the fact that I am unable to dress myself in a suitably girly manner (I blame my chunky rugby player legs – the source of much teasing as a kid), and you've got someone who shouldn't be writing relationship columns. An avowed singleton (see above points for reasons why), I've got no game. Also, I don't do pink.

Revenge of the Useless, Sarcastic Kind

I have to be honest. I gave this the most thought and spent hours drafting open letters to those I felt had wronged me somehow, suggesting highly humorous ways for us to work through our problems. The end result is comedic but something tells me that the recipients wouldn't appreciate it. A hilarious form of therapy for me. For said recipients, not so much. I can see the funny in it but some people just don't know how to laugh at themselves. This is why they should get me to laugh at them, for them. I'd be providing a public service of sorts. Right?

Travel, Tourism, Why Sabah Rocks

Sabah, being any tourism ministry's dream come true, has had millions of articles written on how one should traipse in and around our beloved home. Information on things to do, what to see, where to dive and how to eat are readily available online, not forgetting the hundreds of books dedicated to our history, nature, culture and wildlife.

Does Sabah really need yours truly to lower the fine standards set by better writers before me? The answer here is no. You'd want to read positive, helpful and well put-together information. Not my rambling as I sit here, alternating between finishing this piece and contemplating my navel, telling myself that I really don't need to be having bah kut teh (a delicious Chinese pork bone tea soup) for dinner, but knowing that it's what I'll probably end up buying on my way home from work tonight.

Goodbye, diet. Hello, expanding waistline.

I seriously could ramble on, but the computer's app tells me that I'm fast approaching the 1000 word count mark. Bah kut teh takeaway here I come. 

A Tasty Turn Of Events

Published May 2011

June and July are busy months with regards to events, entertainment and goings-on in our little city.

Soon we will welcome the International Film Festival with it's stellar movie offerings, the KK Jazz Festival which will give us two days of great live performances (and ice cold beer), and one which is starting to grab quite a fair bit of attention – the inaugural Kota Kinabalu Food Fest.

Granted this perhaps might be perceived as a personal plug, as the company I work for is responsible for organizing it. But I assure you that this is not the case. I, for one, am pretty excited about having the opportunity to work on something as fun and unique as this.

I suppose I should explain that even though my day job consists of being chief scribbler and general troublemaker at an online magazine, I also dabble as a food blogger. My love for food is due to my background in the culinary arts - specifically, French cookery.

I trained professionally as a chef for quite a few years and from what I was told, was fairly decent at it. However, a degenerative spinal condition called Cervical Spondylosis meant that a future involving me being on my feet for 12 to 14 hours a day (sometimes more) and getting stuck in to some pretty physical work, was not in the cards.

Nevertheless, I've maintained an interest in all things food related. Well it's more of an affectionate obsession but I'm happy to delude myself from time to time. Very few things please me more than animated foodie discourse. It's great to see how passionate people get when relating a fond food memory of the best curry laksa they've had, or when giving me directions to the best ngiu chap shop in town. I know food crazy friends who saved their pennies just so they could eat and drink their way through Western Europe. Food, and almost everything related to it, crosses boarders and boundaries, melts hearts and forms friendships.

Food. Food makes people happy. It's as simple as that. We're Malaysians after all, and any self-respecting citizen can attest to our fascination with the art of eating for pleasure. “Have you eaten?” is a common yet endearing greeting, for example. In my opinion if there's one thing that unites us regardless of racial, cultural and socioeconomic differences, it's food.

The idea of the food festival was born out of a genuine interest to start something that would not only remain memorable and leave a positive impression, but would also appeal to a wide audience.

So here we have it. The birth of the Kota Kinabalu Food Fest which will run for two weeks, and will act as a showcase of f&b outlets in and around KK.

Appropriately themed as “A Tasty Turn of Events”,the crux of the KK Food Fest is to discover and promote varied dining options in our city, catering not only to dedicated gourmands, but also to those of us who are very simply foodies at heart. The KK Food Fest encourages delicious experimenting by way of a specially designed “Festival Menu” - available only throughout the duration of the festival. Diners will be able to enjoy unique offerings from participating establishments in this first-of-its-kind event.

For those who are wondering what to expect, it's pretty straightforward. During the two week run, festival-goers will be encouraged to take part in the “Dine & Win” contest. The mechanics are simple: Collect stamps after dining in any of the participating restaurants. The stamps can be fixed on to the festival magazine, which will be distributed prior to the event. Diners then stand a chance to win some pretty attractive prizes.

A closing dinner will be hosted on the final day of the festival as a highlight for food lovers to eat, drink and be merry. I can't give much away on this as yet but all I can say is that it's going to be a fun and memorable evening for all involved.

The Kota Kinabalu Food Festival is organized by LifeAndStyle.com.my and will run from 9th to 22nd July 2011. More information is available at kkfoodfest.com

Malice Gone Wrong

Published May 2011

A few weeks ago I wrote a piece about the act of moving on and what an interesting journey it was to arrive at a place where I was ready to forgive, or ask for forgiveness. And truth be told, I felt fairly positive and upbeat about the whole thing.

That was until a good friend reminded me that sometimes, there are just situations which are still so raw, the act of forgiving the guilty parties is still a long way away.

Now I've said this before and I'm going to darn well say it again: I have been guilty of whining and complaining about others in my personal blog posts, but with the exception of a naïve mistake I made way back in 2004 of actually naming the person in full, I learnt my lesson and never did that again. We make errors. We learn. We move on. I also never gave away any personal information, and I never talked about their workplace or their family members. I try my best not to practice slander and hearsay in my scribblings. Just the honest truth, which in most cases is bad enough.

Look, most of us have enemies wherever we go. For a large majority of regular folk, this sometimes cannot be avoided. I'm anything but regular and am little proud to say that I have what could be considered a fan club in reverse.

It is with that in mind that I tell the true story of the two men who tried their best to slander me to within an inch of my professional life in an extremely aggressive open manner - with absolutely no regard or respect for the confines of Malaysia's legal system. And until today I am still hard pressed to believe that they fully understand just how much trouble they are still able to get in to.

For the sake of relevance, I'd like to make it clear that I am not friends with the two gentlemen I am about to discuss – M, a West Malaysian living and working here in our fair city, and P a retired expat. I've not been friends with them since May 2008, due to a variety of reasons. In the interest of fairness though, it should be said that we were all equally responsible for the events that transpired, resulting in the breakdown of our respective friendships. And to clarify further, while I enjoy a fair amount of freelance work I also hold a full-time job in an editorial capacity for a local magazine

Sometime in early 2010, M, who for the longest time was an English teacher and lecturer, was interested in trying his hand at some freelance writing. He started providing a few articles free of charge to a publication that I also happened to freelance for. Not an unreasonable move, wanting to build a writing portfolio and we all had to start somewhere.

Unbeknownst to me, the higher-ups of this publication felt that even though M was qualified on paper, his writing wasn't what they were looking for (hey I'm no Sidney Sheldon, but some people are better at waffling than others).

Truth be told, yes I did read his writing and yes I was pretty surprised at it's blandness. Perhaps I was expecting more from someone who held higher educational qualifications than I. Then again, what do I know? Before my current job in the media industry, I trained as a cook for four years and I sold shoes for eight years. But that's just me.

However, due to my friendships with some of the senior staff attached to the publication, certain people jumped to dangerously inaccurate conclusions. But I had absolutely nothing to do with the management deciding that they didn't want to accept his work any longer.

That aside, nothing prepared me for the pathetic unfolding of events that was about to take place. Until today I sometimes still wonder what possessed them to do what they did. There must have been some serious rage boiling somewhere – and a little part of me smiles as I write this, but permit me a small bon mot. Imagine my surprise one morning in 2010 when a trusted mate forwarded me a captured screen shot image of a very ugly note on Facebook, written by M's very good friend – that chap I mentioned earlier, P.

In this note of now-laughable fury, P listed me by full name and accused me of costing poor M his “job” with the publication due to my sneaky, underhanded dealings with the superiors that worked there. P also listed the publication's full name – a stupid move done in bad taste, and this is something that I sincerely believe will come back to bite him in the derrière one day.

P's epic tome went on to slander me further by way of listing out my day job, the name of the company I work at, and stated that M had submitted work to the company I am attached to, but was never financially compensated for it, and that I had plagiarized his work. Plagiarism is a grave accusation and I immediately forwarded this note to my bosses. They assured me that not only was this untrue, but that I could count on them for their support.

As this note was on Facebook and had very few security settings, it was open to a wide number of readers. I thoroughly examined the comments made by P and M's deluded supporters, all of whom were baying for my blood and my head on a stick.

Funnily now, whenever I do encounter most of these misguided and misinformed commenters, none of them are ever able to look me in the eye. Embarrassed would be a kind way to describe it. Safety and strength in numbers until you end up looking like a ninny I suppose. Then all that flag waving and foot stomping is quietly swept under the carpet, praying to be forgotten about.

So let's recap: there's a note written which I like to refer to as a poorly put together piece of fiction. The authors are, until today, unable to provide solid or concrete evidence of any of their wild accusations. What I should have done, had I not been dissuaded by P and M's loyal friends (who at the time pretended to be acting in my interest), was to have taken firm legal action. A copy of the screen shot was sent to the offices of one of KK's most reputable law firms and I received confirmation that I had a case should I have wanted to press charges. However, I stupidly listened to the wrong advice and took it on the chin. I should have proceeded with a strong corporate response, to clear not only my name and reputation, but more importantly, the reputations of the other companies openly listed.

I have to admit that it still irks me until today that these two gentlemen genuinely believe that they have gotten away with it. Ignorance is bliss to the unwise. Their lack of awareness at how weak their accusations and arguments were, is ludicrous. And they ignored the one blatantly obvious fact - the very simple truth is that we are all accountable for what we write. A note on Facebook counts as a valid document in the realms of social media and our laws are constantly evolving to keep up with the developments and boundaries of the online world.

Some of us will end up facing ugly situations like these put forth by individuals we should really be pitying. So what should the course of action be? A full legal offensive with the high possibility of decent financial compensation for your trouble? To turn the other cheek, let them get away with it, and have people believe them just because they're banging their pots and kettles louder than you can speak? Many, sadly, will believe that people are guilty until proven innocent – not the other way around.

So have I also resorted to slander and libel in this column? Nope. I've given you, the reader, very general information and a prime example of malice gone wrong as food for thought. Think of this as a delayed form of a well earned self-defence, an explanation, rather.

What I can tell you is that with regards to this topic, forgiveness is not something I am considering anytime soon. Many of us in this industry work hard to ensure that our jobs and roles are genuinely carried out to the best of our abilities.

I do not take this profession lightly and I refuse to suffer fools gladly. These are serious times for serious people who refuse to be lumped in with the trivial dalliances and crybaby antics of amateurs who demand to be regarded as members of the media, but who have yet to pay their dues and end up causing more harm than good.

So I'm afraid I have to state that with regards to this issue, forgiveness is nowhere in sight. Perhaps it'll take me a few years to even approach this topic in a more understanding manner. Call me childish, call me whatever name you can think of. All I know is that I have a responsibility to carry

out my roles honestly, and to protect the organizations that I work with to the best of my abilities. And if that means that this makes me a harsh and unforgiving person, well I'll take that any day rather than being regarded as a pushover.   

The Thing About Jazz

Published May 2011

In a little less than a month, the Kota Kinabalu Jazz Festival will make it's 5th appearance in what has been acknowledged as a fun 2 days worth of music and all-round entertainment. And if you're anything like me, the beer's ice cold – extra bonus points.

Jokes aside though, this is also that time of year when friends and acquaintances discuss Jazz more than usual. This applies especially to the layperson who is normally indifferent to genre specifics, but generally appreciates a good performance – people who would give a passing nod to background Coltrane. And then you get those who genuinely don't appreciate Jazz. Fair enough, rules aren't set in stone when it comes to music. However I have to be blunt in stating that today's article is probably geared more towards those who haven't quite made their minds up about Jazz.

Now I love Jazz simply because it is one of the few things that makes me happy. Too simplistic a statement? Perhaps, but at least it's one that's as honest as I can muster. Jazz always puts me in a good mood and I have often said that I have yet to lose my temper if Jazz is playing. True story. You see, I was encouraged to be musical from a very, very young age – I suspect my parents observed my banging of toys on every surface available as a sign that I was geared towards percussion playing.

Oh sure I was made to go for piano classes (as was the norm of most youngsters at the time). I did pretty well until the piano teacher, a lovely woman named Ivy, noticed that I was simply listening, watching and copying whatever she played. I couldn't read the notes, but apparently I pulled this ruse off so well it lasted almost two months. She told my parents that I played well by ear though. I'm sure that counted for something.

With few options left my parents decided to let me learn how to play the drum with Peter Lau (who, incidentally, will be appearing with Spice of Tones, performing at this year's KK Jazz Festival) when I was 9 years old, and I only stopped playing 10 years later.

I wasn't able to read sheet music, but Peter did his best to teach me styles and techniques. My love of percussion was actively encouraged while in high school, something I am grateful for till today. The United World College of South East Asia where I attended, is one of those schools where the arts are taken seriously and I was offered the role of drummer in the school's popular Jazz Band – a coveted seat to be sure.

It was there that I was able to fully cultivate what was originally a passing interest in Jazz, into a full blown immersion, and I was fortunate. My teachers and superiors were only too happy to expose us to the different folds and sub genres of Jazz, to educate us and let us experiment. Blues, ragtime, big-band style swing, contemporary, acid. Merely some of the styles we delved into, and I loved them all. I was given carte blanche to improvise, as I still couldn't read sheet music. I've lost track of the number of Jazz Band performances where I played entirely by ear – and managed to pull it off easily and effortlessly.

In my humble opinion, I feel that he reason why this was happened boils down to the 'allowance' that Jazz gives its players. That freedom to stray a little outside the box. Sure more often than not, a tight performance is required, especially if it's an ensemble big band piece for example. But then there are those times when improvisation is king. You know the basics, you know your timings, you know how and when to come back in. Jazz is about subtlety, about understanding where the music is going and how far you can go with it.

My main musical influence growing up was my father. He who set precedent and ensured that I had the right foundations for bands to look up to, namely Creedence, The Beatles, a bit of Deep Purple. Mind you this was before I discovered Brit Pop and boy bands – good thing that phase didn't last long. Anyway, I remember asking him for his thoughts on Jazz and he said that he personally had a hard time enjoying it. He was totally for it, mind you. He was fully appreciative of the extra skillsets, improv abilities and confidence Jazz musicians had over their equally talented counterparts who preferred other genres. He just said that it simply wasn't for him.

If there's one thing I know to be true, its that very few people are indifferent to Jazz. You either like it or not, in varying degrees. Very few would shrug and give a noncommittal answers when asked for their two cents.

Jazz for me signifies being able to cut loose, without losing control. Finger clicks, sting taps and bass claps. Quietly unrestrained smoothness – could you ask for a more complex paradox? Jazz is certainly musical food for mind, body and soul.

Again, I have full respect for the fact that Jazz isn't for everyone. But should you be open to some fine tunes and a great couple of evenings out, be sure to pick up tickets to the KK Jazz Fest. At the very least, you'll be exposed to some very fine musical offerings and real talent. And I already mentioned the cold beer, right?

___________________________________________________

The Kota Kinabalu Jazz Festival will be held on 17^th & 18^th June 2011 at the covered tennis courts at Sutera Harbour Marina, Golf & Country Club. Tickets are priced at RM60 for a Single Day Pass (RM10 off for purchase before 15^th June) and are for sale at all Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf outlets in Kota Kinabalu. For more information visit www.kkjazzfest.com

Soju

Published April 2011

A few months ago I happened to be indulging in some mind-numbing TV watching of the music video persuasion. The video in question, “Like A G6” was a chart-topper by American Asian electro hop quartet Far East Movement. What compounded my interest in the usual presentation of stereotypical hip hop images was a scene where a group of people were doing Soju shots at a restaurant. It wasn't the champagne popping in all its bling glory, nor the promise of travel by a private jet that got my attention.

It was a humble little green bottle that made me sit up and take notice. Soju had made its MTV debut.

Anyone who knows me will tell you I do enjoy a happy hour slurp on weekdays. I like to think of it as a 'reward' for the hard work put in during the day. Happy hour sessions with like-minded individuals are great as they usually lead to dinner, and then before we know it, it's time to head home.

But back to that Soju for a bit. I'm often heard promoting the awesomeness of this Korean spirit as a favourite kick-start beverage of mine. The faces of the uninitiated will usually wrinkle with distaste and most will (wrongly) immediately liken it to nasty tequila or some such drink even before even trying it, simply based on its appearance. In actual fact, this distilled rice spirit carries no fragrance or aroma. I'd say that Soju mostly resembles a much softer, subtler version of neat vodka. Alcohol content varies between 18.5% to 45%, though due to cost production, the alcohol by volume commonly hovers around 20%.

Soju dates back to the 13^th century Mongol invasion of Korea. Having acquired brewing and distilling techniques of arak from their Persian invasion in 1256, the Mongols brought this knowledge with them and set up distilleries in the city of Kaesong in North Korea. Interestingly, Soju is often still referred to as arak-ju in and around the Kaesong area.

Soju is served ice cold, is best enjoyed with hearty, meaty (usually Korean but I experiment regularly) meals and I personally find it to be a wonderful accompaniment to cut through anything oily. Similar, I suppose, to how Scandanavian Aquavit is said to ease digestion after particularly heavy foods.

I remember my very first taste of Soju. It was August 2009 and my cousin R was in town on a short vacation. We celebrated his visit by pretty much eating and drinking everything that popped to mind. A hedonistic pursuit of belly filling and Bacchus worshipping to be sure.

However, even with the best of intentions beer (and even wine) does get a little boring and predictable - if you'd had as much as we did you'd be nodding along in agreement. 

It was at this point that R told me he had taken a shine to Soju. He was keen and I was curious to give this a shot so we stopped by a Korean supermarket and he picked up a few bottles for us to kick back with at home.

My first taste left me spluttering, red-faced, teary-eyed and wondering how on earth anyone could enjoy this. After shot number 3, and once my taste buds had acclimatized, I was officially in love.

Fast forward to April 2011: I'm still in love and I've successfully managed to pass the 'Sojuness' along to friends who had never previously considered giving this deceivingly innocent looking libation a go, and who now enjoy a bottle or three, on occasion.

Image property of Shan Sandhu

Minding The Language

Published April 2011

Over the past few years it's been great fun observing how the English language has morphed a little to accommodate our 'online lifestyles' – a concept that, until about 15 years ago, was a difficult one for many to comprehend.

So here we are today in 2011, ready to FB, Twit and FourSquare ourselves away on various iDevices at the drop of a hat. And what about flash compugeekspeak? Yep that's changed along with us. One would need to be firmly placed under a rock to have missed Google's ascent into transient verbdom. Google it, I'll Google you, we're Googling – phrases quite a few of us are familiar with.

The formidable Oxford English Dictionary, which adds new words to it's stable four times a year, presents a charmingly amusing list of recent entries, most notably those which recognize the growing influence of social media interaction and mobile phone texting. OED's very recent March 2011 update has some real zingers. Popular abbreviations such as OMG (Oh My God), FYI (For Your Information) and LOL (Laugh Out Loud) are some prime examples.

Other words and phrases include Bloggable(self explanatory), Party-Crasher (an unwanted and uninvited person at a party), Whassup ('What's Up' for those unable to enunciate), Smack Talking (to speak ill of), Rumping (apparently this is a dance move that involved vigorous shaking of the rear end), Sexting (texting messages or images of an adult nature), Domestic Goddess (thank you Nigella Lawson), Yuck Factor (a feeling of disgust) and Dot Bomb (a failed internet company) – to name but a few.

It makes sense that most of these words and terms are added, and rightly so given their popularity and high usage amongst a relatively wide audience. However the addition of the term Heart took many by surprise – as in I Heart You – the symbol is now a verb that carries the exact same meaning as the word Love. CNN explains that this definition is given a new 'sense' and Oxford's press release states that "it may be the first English usage to develop via the medium of T-shirts and bumper-stickers." Graeme Diamon, Chief Editor of new words for the dictionary explains: “Our earliest quote for this use, from 1984, uses the verb in ‘I heart my dog’s head’, a jokey play on bumper stickers featuring a heart and a picture of the face of a particular breed of dog (expressing a person’s enthusiasm for, say, shih-tzus) which itself became a popular bumper sticker. From these beginnings, heart v. has gone on to live an existence in more traditional genres of literature as a colloquial synonym for ‘to love’.

A complete listing of OED's list of new words can be found on www.oed.com

Sources: OED.com, CNN.com, telegraph.co.uk  

Get Linked In

Published April 2011

One of the small benefits of living all the way over here in Borneo is the fact that sometimes, just sometimes, we can sit back from current online trend waves and other hot social media must-haves, and just observe politely before deciding whether or not to jump on the proverbial bandwagon.

To be honest, my interest in blogging has waxed and waned. Facebook's still a great option for keeping in touch with my high school and university friends - which was the main reason why I signed up for it back in 2007 in the first place. Sure everyone signs in, posts a statement, has a laugh, sometimes a profound moment, does a spot of lurking, sighs when an ex's photo pops up. You know, those old chestnuts. But truth be told the one site that's been keeping me going back for more lately is none other than LinkedIn.

Don't feel embarrassed if you're not entirely sure about what LinkedIn is. Up till quite recently not many of us did either. But it's high time you brought yourself up to speed.

Dubbed 'the de facto standard in professional networking' by online publication Huliq, LinkedIn's CEO Jeff Weiner has been quoted as stating that users are growing at roughly a rate of one million new members per week, up to as recently as March 2011. That works out to be one new member every second.

Personally, what I most enjoy about this site is its relevancy to my current occupation. It allows me to build and maintain connections with individuals I have worked with before, or plan to work with in the future – all the while ensuring that privacy remains a priority and unwanted contact is not allowed. In an environment that is geared more towards working professionals, this is a factor that is paramount.

Not to be forgotten is the ease and ability for members to network. The ability for such direct contact aids in the widening of scopes and horizons with respect to the possibility of future projects and communication. I personally have joined several groups on this site that allow me to interact in a controlled and (there's that word again) relevant manner with counterparts from other publications around the world. POVs are put on the table and discussed, opinions asked for and received.

But what is LinkedIn good for, and how could it possibly apply to you if, say, you're retired, not currently working or a freelancer? LinkedIn brings with it a good choice of social media user friendly options such as Twitter, Facebook and Typepad decks amongst others for some light-hearted discourse amongst friends. The main crux however goes to work related features such as being able to present a comprehensive portfolio complete with experience listings, educational background and other notable mentions. Users are able to give and receive recommendations based on abilities, achievements and strengths. An online referral if you like.

LinkedIn has been credited with not only strengthening professional ties, but also in assisting with job offers, sourcing projects, raising awareness for existing companies and even starting a brand new business altogether. Case in point is an example listed on LinkedIn's own blog of Barbara Lemaire who was able to identify key benefactors for her non-profit organization which focused on helping homeless women and children. Then there's one Alice Shapiro who, after losing her job, became a published author after getting help from a LinkedIn connection.

Marry all these positive points with ease of use and functions that are regularly being updated and fine-tuned to suit members needs. What we are presented with something that I believe to be a true social media networking site in its best and truest form.

www.LinkedIn.com

Sources: www.huliq.com / http://blog.linkedin.com

That's Quite Enough

Published March 2011

In the past 3 months, I have been subjected to adverse racism. Now I appreciate that a large number of people have, at some point, been on the receiving end of taunts, jeers, or even sly comments or looks. However, I was one of those who honestly went through my time abroad and on my travels, fairly lucky in that respect. Perhaps I always managed to fly below the radar, perhaps I looked so unimportant that no one wanted to bother with me. Call me naive but whatever the case, I had, up to recently, cruised through life having never received so much as a raised eyebrow. But lately I've been exposed to lashings of racist and bigoted abuse, stemming from volatile hatred and anger.

A bit of a long story but I'll try my best to stick to the facts. I was headed home after dinner sometime in early December 2010. I entered the drive to my apartment complex and was making my way to my block when I noticed that there was a white Perodua MyVi (for the benefit of non-Malaysian residents, a small hatchback car) tailgating me, trying to swerve around either side of me to pass.

I wouldn't have minded letting this moron overtake, except that it was late, most residents were already home and many have a habit of parking their cars on one side of the road, turning it into a single lane passageway for the most part.

The driver of the little white wonder was becoming increasingly aggressive and I remember worrying that they were going to hit the back of my truck. I turned into my parking bay, thinking that the MyVi driver would be pleased he wasn't stuck behind me any longer and zoom off to glory, or into the nearest wall.

But no. The car turned in to the same bay area and stopped. I parked and got out of my truck, wondering what was up but also made no effort to show any curiosity. Instead I stopped at the entrance of my block, fumbling around in my bag for my keys and stalling for time, wanting to note down the license plate number to pass it to the management office in the morning. I looked up to see said driver charging over to me, clearly furious and incensed.

I would have taken this more seriously in any other situation, except for the fact that I knew this individual. A woman whom I've always thought to be bad news in every sense of the word.

This fine specimen of womanhood, let's call her L, started yelling at me for not letting her pass. A whiff of her rancid breath confirmed that she was intoxicated and had no business being behind the wheel of a car. To be honest I was amused at first by her unbalanced, wobbly gait and slurring rubbish but it got irritating very quickly. Soon after, a third party entered the scene - her boyfriend, who apparently lived in the block next to mine.

He tried to get her to calm down and walk away, but that only seemed to spur her on with regards to her volume and the type of abuse she was dishing out to me. From the little bits of conversation I caught between them, they had gotten into some sort of fight and she had driven over in a rage to confront him.

In hindsight I should have gone upstairs to my apartment to leave the ranting woman and her nervous looking boyfriend to sort their mess out. I should have realized it is impossible trying to reason with a drunk, disorderly loon. But I didn't think of that at the time and told the boyfriend off for letting L behave this way in a residential area, where a large portion of my neighbours are families with small children. I scolded him, saying that she was lucky she didn't hit me or anyone else.

It was then that she became clearly unhinged. I can actually still remember how ugly and contorted her face looked. Her previous name calling had exhausted her arsenal of insults to me, so she went low. Very, very low. “Sabah is not your home,” she screeched, shrill enough to do a banshee proud. “Go back to your own home, you (bleeping, bleeping) Indian. Get out of Sabah. This is not your place. You don't belong here.”

Of course I've removed the foul language but I think the gist is crystal clear. I encountered my very first racist, bigoted troglodyte.

I'm a Punjabi Sikh from Labuan – an island that's only a 20 minute flight away from Kota Kinabalu. My family arrived in Labuan in 1868, making us the oldest Sikh family in Malaysia according to our country's historians. While this deserves absolutely no special treatment or status, shouldn't this make me as Sabahan as the next person by now? My family's been here for 143 years. Isn't that long enough? Haven't we paid our dues already? I'm aware that I am a member of a minority race group in this country. But I won't apologize for it. And neither will I accept anyone's attempts to make me feel insecure about it.

As mentioned earlier, I've never been faced with racist and bigoted abuse like this before. I was unprepared with a response so I filmed her rampage using my mobile phone for evidence, until a good friend happened to call for something unrelated, heard the commotion, and advised me to head back to my place and distance myself from the situation.

The next day I had every intention of highlighting the events of the night before. I spoke to quite a few local friends, to gauge their comments and feedback. As Sabahans, they were shocked and disgusted. “We're not like that,” one friend vented, clearly frustrated. “It's ridiculous and she's giving us a bad name. We don't treat anyone that way, especially not one of our own.”

Now I've never wondered about L's own ethnic background as I honestly couldn't be bothered. If pressed I'd have to say that she looks as if she has a combination of Chinese, Filipino and Native ancestry but I am unable to confirm that.

Word had gotten back to L that I was being open about the events that transpired and she was not pleased. I guess that's only fair. I imagine it must be humiliating to be called a racist and a bigot in one fell swoop. So she responded in the only way she knew how: With more abuse.

The day before Chinese New Year I received a private message on Facebook from none other than L. This message was so nasty it could easily be interpreted as an open threat. I had a think about it, and responded stating that I was going to make a police report and that she should probably make one too. Unsurprisingly, I received more abuse.

It doesn't stop there. Remember that boyfriend who tried to calm her down? She instructed him to contact me on Facebook and he did - saying that I was going to get some sort of payback, that he could gain access to me any time and that there was a possible stalking in the future.

I responded asking him for his Visa details and how he was living in my country (I should have stated earlier that he is a Caucasian), to which he then apologized, claiming to wash his hands of it all and backed off very, very quickly.

I have a word to describe men like these. I'm sure you have one too.

From what I understand L is still on the rampage, flinging dirt and abuse in my general direction any chance she gets and is of course playing the racist card. As she digs herself deeper and deeper into a hole of malice, it's looking as though this woman has been able to get away with her behaviour. While this is not right, I guess the only thing I can do now is pity her for her ignorance, lack of education and small mindedness. I'm also left wondering about the state of her mental health.

From a very young age racism and bigotry drove me up the wall and around the bend. It is shameful, crass and cowardly. Even just thinking about it makes me livid. And if none of this bothers you, you should seriously be asking yourself why.