My virgin feet felt the alien texture of the ring floor last Saturday.
After nearly an hour of motionless monotony, punctuated by the occasional, slow progression forward (horrible day to be on the road because of the jam-causing Singapore VS Malaysia match), we finally reached the freaking East Coast. The black blanket of night, beautifully tainted with polka dots of golden street lights, had already fallen upon us by then.
My heart was restless with anxiety throughout the entire journey. My First Muay Thai brothers and I were supposed to represent Marsiling Community Centre and give a "demonstration" up in the ring. Shi Fu Johnny decided to fill us in on the change from the original 30-minute sparring plan three hours before meeting at my void deck.
But any trepidation caused by the lack of preparation, mentally or otherwise, was temporarily swept aside by the sights and sounds of the boxing ring. It was precisely the way one would imagine it to be - square, "set on a raised platform and bound around with four parallel rows of rope attached to posts at each corner of the ring" (lick my balls, but Wikipedia says it best). It was simply majestic as it glowed in white light from its central location.
Punching and kicking with iron fists and legs in the ring were the men from Hilltop Muay Thai. The sound that their kicks made when their immaculately arched and angled feet came into contact with the practice pads were thunderous, penetrating through the absurd "Rambo music" that was blasting from the speakers.
On one side of the ring was the rowdy and congested bar. Apparently it was the 27th annual event for the local biker association (or something along those margins), which explains the army of Harley Davidsons we saw at the carpark. The Muay Thai exhibition was entertainment to spice things up for the biking enthusiasts, I supposed. I suddenly felt like an animal from the zoo.
After dressing down into our boxing gear at the filthy gents (where Puvan and I nervously joked about how I still had the capacity to worry about how my hair looked when we were about to face impending doom), I proceeded to the arena to wrap the fighting cloth around my hands.
Despite my brave front, Johnny must have sensed my nervousness and helped me mummify my hands, after which he ordered us orange juice. I thanked him, and he replied, "It's okay. You all are my boys. I must take care of you". That could have possibly thawed the most frozen of hearts, what more mine.
I was the first to be sent into the ring, in all my puny-framed glory. There, I met another Shi Fu Johnny, THE legendary and ancient Johnny who trained in Thailand most of his life, the fierce Johnny who slapped Azhari around as practice.
To be continued... he flared his nostrils rapidly [11:08 PM] Friday, January 26, 2007
IMPOSSIBLE IS NOTHING
Wayne Umehara, Photojournalist/Photo Documentary preacher (2007):
"You're slacking off dude. And looking at your third contact sheet, fashion dude has suddenly blundered."
Johnny, Muay Thai instructor (2007):
"Mat/(Muham)Mad, I don't care. I want you to drop from 56kg to 51kg in 2 weeks time. On the morning of the fight, I'll make you go for a jog. Then, I'll lock you up in the store room because the trapped heat will make you lose weight faster. Then I'll weigh you. If you're still not 51kg, I'll make you run again, and again, and again."
Honestly, what would you do in my situation? Whine about the unfairness of life because all you did to deserve such harsh critique was try your very best? Would you entertain the thought of suicide? Because your instructor is practically killing you anyways by turning you into one anorexic bitch. Or would you simply break down and quit, just like a sad little pussy?
But that's not the shape of my heart. I'll work hard and I'll bleed for this. I still have something to prove before this is all over.
PEACE he flared his nostrils rapidly [10:05 PM] Tuesday, January 09, 2007
pull that blood out of your heart
Upon analysing my second contact sheet during our weekly Photojournalism consultation, Mr Wayne Umehera told me to dig deep into myself and not be afraid to let go. Even after numerous consecutive days of reconnaissance, I admit that it was still challenging and rather ambitious to execute a fashion shoot with a film camera in a highly uncontrollable environment such as Chinatown. But I'm even more determined to work hard and improve now. I don't want to be that aspiring photographer with potential. I want to be it.
School matters aside, the family life continues to be ridiculous and insane. Chloe and Emma just performed a slutty freestyle hip-hop routine to a song I blasted from my laptop. Those previleged enough to be present at the television area convulsed in laughter. Was that an indication of consent, mama?
PEACE he flared his nostrils rapidly [9:00 PM]
are you ready? the juliana theory - we made the road by walking
19. 2007. This period of my life excites me so much I can simply internally combust. The next one month will be incredibly insane but I am so pumped up for the challenges that life has lined up for me. May God bless this road of passion I walk on.
PEACE he flared his nostrils rapidly [12:07 AM] Tuesday, January 02, 2007
Working hard to graduate with a diploma in Mass Communication had always taken a toll on my social life, but this is ridiculous. And here I was with this pre-misconception that randomly generated resolutions were supposed to be inaccurate and hilariously absurd. Wtf.
In the year 2007 I resolve to: Lose all my friends and become a complete geek.
