Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Fatal Imprudence: Continued

Hello. I'm more than a month late and I'm afraid this is all I have to offer. 

No wait, that's not true, I am withholding some of the later parts but that's because I'm still writing (and rewriting) those. This part is more confirmed so I'm more confident about sharing this. 

But of course I'm starting my story in the middle again! Sorry.

Here's the breakdown: My friend Darren wrote a story called Fatal Imprudence some years back. Here it is. I did mention this in my last post but in case you didn't see it...well click the link. I wanted to continue the story for one particular character's sake, and that is Zhi Tian. You really have to read Darren's story to figure out who and what he was. Please do, it's a good read. I wanted more of him. And so I did...and didn't. Because my side of the story is incomplete. In fact...the part that I'm about to share with you is the one I did that one night 2 years ago when I decided to continue his story. 

There is a bit of a rumour (a teeny one) that the original author (Darren) may write a little prequel (but only a little) to the original story. IF that is true (which can be if you pressure him...just saying), and with what i'm doing being an..epilogue of sorts, then the original story will be the middle. hem. 

So...here's....a bit of what I've been working on. The continuation of Fatal Imprudence. 

Seriously, read the original first. Or you might be rather confused. But it's up to you. 

Zhi Tian sat broodingly, his back rigid and straight with tension. There was a lump in his throat that he could not swallow, probably because of the hard knot in his stomach.

They will be out of those cold grey doors any moment, and what on earth was he supposed to say? What should he do? How can he explain?

He cursed, slamming his fist on his thigh. He hated being the mediator, hated having to be the one to explain everything to everyone, hoping that he can smooth things over. Some things just can’t be smoothed, and surely that isn’t his fault? Is it? He decided not to answer. He grimaced and leaned forward, his face in his hands as his elbows leaned on his thighs. Closing his eyes, he could see it all over again. The old man’s fist connecting to David’s face, the bus, the rain…the collision…

Abruptly, he pulled himself up again, beads of perspiration on his forehead. He bit back a groan. Men don’t cry, he thought bitterly to himself, we don’t show weakness. He rolled his eyes as he realized that he too, was steeped with the mindset of his homeland, despite his years abroad. It was in his blood and his name. The mindset that killed David. For yes, no matter what the doctor said about “depending on the circumstances” and “doing all we can”, he knew from the weary detachment on his face that his friend was as good as gone. It was only a matter of time. He felt defiled.

He wiped off the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, and brought it down to his pants. How long had he been here? A day? Two? A week? He honestly couldn’t remember. Everything had passed in a dull blur. A dull, lonely blur….for in contrast to May’s funeral, no one came here. No one would dare, after what had happened. The only bit of colour during that period was when that…that…old man came again to see not his son-in-law, but him. He turned hot from the memory, seething again.

The heat morphed to freezing cold as the grey doors swung open. He stood as he felt a swooping sensation in his gut. New drops of sweat broke out again as he turned to face David’s family. He did a brief headcount: His parents, his older brother and dear heaven, did they have to bring his younger sister, David’s favourite sibling? The flight would have been enough to drain her.

They all looked like what he felt – a wreck. Mrs. West had a face buried in her husband’s shoulder. Her oldest son, had an arm on her shoulder, the other clutching his sister tightly, as if she too, would disappear like David had. His eyes were bloodshot and he was staring at the floor with a twisted mouth. Mr. West, however, was staring keenly at Zhi Tian, his eyes wet but unwavering. It took all of his efforts to not squirm or drop his gaze. It was a long time before he spoke

“Mr. West, I- ” Zhi Tian paused. Mr. West waved a hand.

“How many times have I told you to call me Ben? But let me say what I have to first, before I can’t.” He choked slightly. “David’s gone, boy. We had him off the life..” He took in a breath. “It was for the best.” 

Zhi Tian felt like a train had slammed into him. For all his preparations, he was suddenly winded, as if he had ran a marathon. Nothing prepared him for reality, where David was really gone, gone for good, leaving him in this mess. He gripped the wall with one hand as everything seemed to turn into a blank haziness. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he opened them again and refocused.

“Mr. West, I’m so sorry… I – ” And he paused again, for what could he say? Instinct made him fall to his knees and bow his head. “Sir, I apologise. I'm sorry for..for..” and he stammered into silence, vaguely surprised at himself. He never realised that he would actually remember his mother’s strict discipline of proper behaviour.

“Boy, wadya think you’re doing? Get up!” exclaimed Mr. West hoarsely, releasing his wife to pull Zhi Tian off the floor. Mrs. West clung on anyway, breaking out in fresh sobs and shaking. The sister - oh yes, her name was Doreen - made a strange choking sound as she reached out to support her mother, nearly pulling her brother, who was still gripping her shoulder, down. Zhi Tian didn't know who to help. Before he could decide, Mr. W-Ben, had pulled him up, and steadied his entire family. He let out his breath in a hard puff. “C’mon. Stop, just...let’s just…sit, ok? There now..” his voice was shaky, but commanding. Zhi Tian was ashamed. Here he was, being comforted when he was the one who should be comforting.

It was awhile before everything returned to the dull, grey calm again. The Wests sat along the hall, facing him. Mr. West’s eyes were burning into his face, but his voice was gentle. “Boy, I don’t blame you for anything. But I need to know. We need to know. What happened?” Mrs. West turned her face away from his coat and stared up at him beseechingly.

Zhi Tian’s jaw clenched. Here goes everything.


Tuesday, July 9, 2013

So much for updating

Whoo hoo it's July. I am on holiday.

so why haven't you written anything on your blog, you lazy chipmunk?

Anyway, I am here to tell you that I'll be back on my "trying-to-write-something-good" boat. Or perhaps just trying-to-write-something.

But if you have time, read THIS. It's a good story by a good writer and better friend - Darren Yip!

It'd also provide context for what I will (hopefully) post next.

I might also return to fiddling around with Coney the Redominator. Do you remember him? No? Well part 1 is here and part 2 is here. I know, it's been over a year since I've posted anything about Coney but I haven't forgotten him. He's my little random bit of nonsense. =]

Unfortunately, I can't guarantee anything because I am terrible at updating. So this may just be a troll post and I don't post anything at all. =/

The thought counts, doesn't it?

no it doesn't.

I'll see what I can do then.

Saturday, June 8, 2013

Literature group assignment: Drama

Ok, so why are there ads on my blogger page now? it's irritating. i don't like it.

Anyway, here's my Introduction to English Literature Group Assignment. Our play of A Midsummer Night's Dream by the wordsmith William Shakespeare.

We didn't do the full play, because each group is supposed to do one scene, and we only had 5 groups. But that's not very important. My group was the fifth group. Below is the link to the first and i think you should be able to find the rest.

This was possibly 3 weeks work so I'm really thankful we managed to pull it together. There was a lot of behind-the-scenes experiences that I've learnt from and would like to share but I don't have the time for it (or I am too lazy to think too much about it now).

But I suppose I'd put something up about it soon. My own little post-mortem.

This sem's finals, BTW, is just hectic. Because as soon as this play was done (which was my final assignment) we had one weekend and then BOOM! Exam time!

No study week. =[ But I'd probably squandered it.

Erm...yea, that's all, for now. 

TWO posts in one day! Hannah, you are not studying are you? mmmhmmm.

Ok, ok..i'm going. 

Give me love

Currently i'm digging Ed Sheeran's work.

I just love how he messes with the genres, and the sound is something new and unique but relatable.

Also I'm very impressed by artists who sound fantastic live. (Like David Choi! and Kina and blablabla) He sounds incredible live. The set is so simple and basic but it still captivates the audience. It's a greater plus if you can get the audience involved, like how he did in this one. Live concerts are a great platform to get people to not be passive about music. When you get them into it with you, I think they'll gain a greater appreciation for your craft.

"Give me love" is such a wonderful song. There's primal feeling to it, especially when it goes to the looping section (where he records his voice to add into layers...that's at 3:45 onwards in the vid). It captures that natural instinct all humans have, that desperation to love and be loved. Which is interesting because when we think about basic human survival, we don't factor love in. We don't need love to stay alive. Yet so often people die without it. Don't we all, once in a while, cry "Love me!"? It's present in so many plays and stories that of love.

Wow, i'm being sappy. =.= this is bizarre.

The album version portrays that desperation more, you can hear the lower bass chants more clearly and him shouting which is chilling. But I'm sharing the live version here because I love the audience part at the end. Audience involvement during concerts always give me goosebumps and this was well done.

Back to studying now. one more week.

i really want to get a loop pedal. he makes it look like it's bucketloads of fun to play with. 

Saturday, May 25, 2013

This was supposed to be about literature assignment but I ranted instead.

One of the few moments when a teacher became a friend in my eyes was when my Form 4-5 English teacher recommended "The Charge of the Light Brigade" by Alfred Tennyson. I went back and quickly dug it out, read it, and fell in love with the poem. I'm not quite sure what happened next but I remember being very excited about it, and I'm not quite sure when, but I did discuss the elements of the poem with her, and I brought up other Tennyson's works like Crossing the Bar. 

I think it was because she introduced me to that poem, I became a lot more open and honest with her. If you know me, you'd know I usually shy away from being too open with others, especially if they're older than me and not related in any way. But I actually started exchanging books and magazines with her, and I'd recommend books to her in my Journal (some sort of English work - mostly to encourage writing skills). She'd in turn respond by writing comments, recommending other works or making note of the books I raved about ("Sounds interesting, I would really love to have a look at it").

Another thing that just sealed this rather different relationship with her (in comparison with other teachers or adults) was when I mentioned something about having a crazy look in my eye in that Journal, and she said, "Yes, I've noticed that too." In my mind I find that rather amazing for two things: one, that she noticed, and two, that she didn't seem to mind. That level of acceptance of what I am doesn't come often, others may misunderstand it, or shun it, sometimes even over emphasize it, but she didn't do all those things. She didn't say "crazy is great!" because crazy doesn't mean great all the time; neither did she say "you better seek help" because crazy doesn't mean mental issues (though i may be getting there.) This particular crazy, is just me. Being me. There's nothing fantastic about it, it's nothing to brag about, but there isn't anything awful with it either. 

Lately I've been getting responses from both sides of the spectrum: where some find me so fantastically wonderful (i wonder why) and others thinking I need some anti-psycho (or anti-depressant) pills. So this along with others who have known me that keep me grounded. I am me, I am changing for the better (i hope, it's a long process), that's it. 

Erm. Actually my point was that I analysed the poem for my Literature assignment this sem. So we came full circle, sort of. I suppose the real full circle would be recommending it to students in the future. 

I wonder why I wrote the rest of that paragraph above. Ah well, might as well keep it, i haven't been blogging for awhile. 

Life has been busy, crazy, dizzy. Having a play next week as our Drama assignment and somehow I'm in charge. Why? I don't know. I know me, and I know leading isn't my strong point. 

Well, I can't complain about being bored anymore. In many ways I love this lifestyle: so much work, so much to think about. Makes you feel alive and kicking. Like, REALLY kicking. In frustration, and anger sometimes. But kicking. 

Though I'd really love to kick back and relax and watch Star Trek and Iron Man. and the Great Gatsby, I hear it's good. Is it?

I think this post is long enough so I'll stop.

Happy belated Teachers' Day. You've inspired me, obviously. Look where I am now. =]

i need to expand my mental lexicon. my vocabulary is so limited. shame. 

Tuesday, April 30, 2013


I was riffling through my old school essays for my writing assignment, and I found this little piece. This was written for a mid-term or finals in 2009, can't remember exactly. Maybe it was SPM trials. I always preferred writing fiction during exams  because it made it easier for what I call "under-pressure crapping", and I never edited it apart from the spelling and grammar errors. 

Anyway, I've reread it, and surprisingly....I don't hate it. mmmmm.......I did deviate from the topic "Courage" by a LOT though....

I'm more of a narcissist than I thought. Ah well, decided to share it here. 

This was 17-yr-old-sweating-in-exam-hall-me trying to create a bittersweet/horror/hanging ending....


I charged up the stairs of the tower, stumbling over dead bodies and debris. Sweat was pouring down my face as I gasped for air; the pain in my lungs was searing me. My heart pounded rapidly, as the fear in my soul attempted to drown out all hope. Still I pressed on, until I reached the very top and faced a solid black door. Taking deep breaths as I tried to restore calm in my state of panic, I focused my energy on the door’s cool metal.

Bang. The door flew open and skidded across the smooth marble floor. I marched in, willing myself to not feel the pain, the sorrow that shall soon come. From the top of the tower, I could see the red glow of destruction, killing my people, snuffing out lives, breaking apart families. I wrenched my eyes from the scene, fixing them instead on a figure who was the cause of all this suffering: my enemy – Kyle.

On my arrival, he turned and faced me with a sardonic smile twisting his features. His blue eyes were now blood red; he was pale, but I could have recognized him anywhere. After all, Kyle was my friend. Pain, anger and disappointment pierced my heart as I studied his profile. My best friend was now my enemy. The betrayal was worse than anything I could bear.

He said nothing to me as he eyes me the way a snake would eye a trapped mouse. All of a sudden overwhelming fear drove out my sorrow. Kyle was more than a friend, he was mentor. He knew me inside and out. He knew the strength of my powers, my weaknesses, all of my strategies. How was I supposed to defeat him? Would I even want to defeat him? I hesitatingly took a step back, trembling with doubt.

He took a step forward, looked over the balcony at the rampage below, and turned his eyes back on me. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but snapped it shut again. And suddenly, the dam of emotions inside my broke. All the long years of bitterness, hate and above all, sorrow, came thundering down like a waterfall.

“Why?” I shouted at him. “Why did you this?”

In answer, he began to laugh. But it was not his warm, infectious laughter. This laugh was high and cold, sending chills down my spine despite myself. This was no nightmare, it was real. Kyle had truly betrayed all of us. After all that we have done to protect our people, he betrayed us. Betrayed me.

I squashed down a shudder as I sensed his power. I was no match for him, and he knew it. But I could not back out now. As I stood listening to him laughing, I inhaled silently and blocked every emotion. This was no longer the Kyle I knew. This was my enemy, and he will be defeated, the way so many have fallen before me. I fixed that thought into my mind and was filled with cold clarity.

I stretched out my arm and a jet of blue light shot straight at him. Immediately he retaliated with a flash of red light, forcing me to duck. The air crackled with power as we dueled. I was dodging, fighting, retreating so much that I could hardly think. He was more than a match for me. I was barely able to defend myself.

I found myself driven to the edge of the tower and suddenly a sharp pain struck me knee. I crumpled to the floor as I stared up at him advancing menacingly towards me. I could sense the strength of his power increasing, outmatching mine. I was powerless, defeated. I shook my head violently in denial; sweat and tears drenching my face.

This could not be happening. If he wins, evil shall reign, for I knew that no one else could stop him. Thinking wildly, I tried to refocus to fight, but fear kept me from reaching out to my powers. Please! My head screamed on its on accord. I’m just a boy! I’m just a child!

With no warning, Kyle stumbled backwards, a groan issuing from his lips. I stared at him in surprise, and Kyle’s piercing blue eyes were penetrating mine. His mouth convulsed as if he was struggling to say something. Finally, in a hoarse whisper,

Courage.” And he collapsed to the ground. I sat stunned at what I just heard, unable to move.

Within seconds he was back on his feet, his evil red eyes full of hatred. And then it hit me. I should have known all along. Kyle was not my enemy. Even imprisoned in his own body, he managed to reach out and give me what I needed most: courage.

I staggered up, fear banished from me. With my left hand outstretched, I gathered all the energy I had. As I did so, I felt strength leaving my body. It didn’t matter, though. I knew what I had to do, to free Kyle, to save all of us once and for all. I was no longer afraid.

I spoke a single word. White light surrounded all of me as I smiled in contentment. I shall soon see Kyle as before, and thank him for the courage that is now in me.


He slowly stirred as he felt the body of the man it possessed hit the floor, charred beyond recognition. The impact was agony, but it no longer mattered. He had won.

The foolish boy, did he really think that his mentor had turned against him? No, it was him all along who controlled this body, who subdued it. It hadn’t been easy keeping the man’s soul under his power and just moments ago, he lost control. But so what? It was over. The insignificant boy had killed himself and this body, effectively aiding him in eliminating the last of his enemies. He was now in complete control. All he needed to do now was to find another body to possess. And with none who defied him alive, it was only a minor inconvenience.

He was preparing to leave this corpse, when pain in the form of hot needles came slashing at him, holding him in place, squeezing him. What was happening? No! The boy, the child, he knew! How could he have known it was him? It was impossible.

Impossible, but it was happening. He could not leave this body; he was trapped no matter how hard he tried. Slowly he felt his strength and power disappearing into painful oblivion. He would have screamed if he had a mouth. Inside he wanted it to be a dream, a nightmare, but it was reality:

The boy had won, and he will now face eternal pain, eternal imprisonment. He had lost.

Written by Hannah Koh, 2009

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Wow wow wow

My friend in uni stumbled unto my old DLCW tribute video, and she left this comment:
"Hey! I watched this video before I know you~!!! hahaha...it's one of the best tribute for LCW and I'm honored to know the one who made this video..=D"
To put it more in context, my friend is from Kuching. And she watched it there. When she was in Kuching.

According to her, it went "viral" among her friends. They all loved it.

I was reduced to gaping at my computer screen like an ape.

omagah! no way! O.O

Then I wondered whether to laugh or cry.

The beautiful irony is that people all over have seen this vid, but I still don't know if DLCW has seen it. SIGH.

Still, it's an amazing feeling to know that others have seen this and were...slightly touched by it. In some small way, it made them happy. Or ...dare i say it...inspired. Haha. I honestly did not think anyone apart from my friends, family, and maybe people in the Seremban/KL area would have known about it.

If anyone is wondering what video I'm talking about, you can have a look here

A little erm.."director's commentary" on that vid:
I had more than one reason to start that "little" project. One was obviously to just show our appreciation. The other was to experiment, to have a small observation/study on social media and community building. I wanted to see what would happened if we gathered people through social media for a good cause. Would they care? Would they take the extra step and do something? Thanks to another recent event, I have more to share on that, but I lack the time.

But yea, just thought I mention my shock/amazement/feels! over that comment. It made my day. Would like to thank everyone who participated and supported the idea. It happened last year, but I'm still grateful.

Back to assignments now. gaaaaaaaah.

Friday, April 5, 2013

Two roads.....

And two nights (and one day) of endless agonising efforts of squinting at a laptop.

Here we are: my little trailer/preview/introduction to my group work presentation.

It was just a slideshow at first....but our lecturer requested us to make the introduction more interesting...

Me being....me.....went a little overboard.

Ok.......so maybe I'm 40% of a workaholic.

Naaaaaaaaaaaaah. I'm still lazy.

Here's my little diddy. better to view on youtube...on a larger screen (yes, that's my ego talking. blow it up full screen! kidding)

There's some minor glitches and timing problems. I'm not absolutely satisfied at it, but I'm happy. My group liked it, and so did others. So it's ok.

Despite the how tiresome it can be, I actually enjoy doing it. Not sure why. But there's something about this whole video editing thingamajig that fascinates me.

Midsem break is on. WORK WEEK though. WORK WORK WORK WORK.

Noooooo i'm not a workaholic. Not yet.

Have a good midsem break to everyone who is on one. =]

Sunday, March 17, 2013

But i'm not a workaholic yet.....really.

You know you're overthought and overdone it when your lecturer goes "well thank you hannah....for making sure everyone else cannot present today"


But in all honesty, i did NOT overthink this presentation. I did it in less than 2 hours, and it was clumsily done, in my opinion. It just so happened to be an assignment that was fun: briefly introduce a style of music you like.

I went and did soundtracks. I'm not entirely sure if it's a genre, but wikipedia seems to think so...along with some other web lists of music genres.

So I went all out nerd on it and talked about the awesomeness of Hans Zimmer and John Williams (who is the man!), how soundtracks were once overlooked but are now slowly having their own limelight, etc etc.

Yeah. ...maybe i did overdo it.

In case your wondering what lecture this is, it's Music Appreciation and I'm enjoying it, despite the fact that I'm the only TESL-ian there. The only frustration would be how slow the lecture is, because the lecturer doesn't want to overwhelm the rest of the students by speaking in English fast. Either way, I've made up my mind to take more music courses. English and Music will always be my two loves.

I wonder whether i can do the flute...mmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Drowning in work. Having weird bouts of quarter-life crisis. Or at least i think so. I sure hope it isn't madness. Clinical madness that is, I know i'm mad already.

Work helps distract my insane mind. But i shouldn't be morbid here....it makes people (read: parents) worry.

I'm fine. I'm really fine. Really.

p/s: oh....i should have mentioned that the reason why the other students couldn't present after me was not because i was awesome...it was because i started at abt 15 mins before the end of class and i used up all the time. apparently, it wasn't meant to be a very long presentation. oopsy. 

Thursday, February 28, 2013

I forgot I have a blog

Oh yes, its existence was deleted from my memory.

Barely two weeks into my new semester and I feel like I'm up to my elbows already.

However, Writing and Eng Lit classes are on and I'm enjoying them thus far.

My favorite right now though, is Spanish.

Si, I'm taking Espanol. My lecturer is awesome.

But it's a small comfort when you compare it to the amount of WORK that's ahead.

When I have short hair I do that.

Anyway, with the situation being as it is right now, I probably continue to not remember that I have this blog. Which is rather sad, because I was hoping to have more on it. I'll try my best.

"Try not. Do or do not."
"Shut up."

I randomly browsed the tunnels of tumblr and found the pic above. Sadly, I can't locate the source. A thousand apologies to the GIF-maker. If you ever find this inform me and I'll give you due credit.

Tuesday, January 8, 2013

On forwarded emails

I get a lot of forwarded email, mostly on politics. And they can be rather nasty. This was just something I thought while scrolling through my inbox:
To everyone who forwards emails on politics, I have absolutely no intention to be rude or disrespectful, but i genuinely wonder how all these "hate mail" would benefit the country. Positive change is not based on negative words, I think. I have tried to be fair and read these emails, but it just makes me feel sick and unhappy. I don't feel inspired to do anything apart from being angry at the world. Not to mention that the emails usually contain hateful comments against certain individuals, calling them names or insulting them. I understand the anger at someone misusing power or doing a wrong, but I don't think this the right way to handle the issue. 
Of course, no one is saying turn a blind eye, or believe all the lies. Yes, spread awareness (and please check if they are true to begin with; sometimes I question the authenticity of the information), call for change, and so on. I fully support that. Never turn away from injustice. However, my humble plea is to at least, do it honorably, chivalrously, the way an educated, civilized, mature person would. 
Because I am sure that you all are, and you all have good intentions. 

If you are upset at seeing this, I apologise. It was not meant to be insulting, and I hope you can see that. If you think I am some young naive girl who is apathetic to the state of our country, I will admit that I am certainly the former, but never the latter.

Happy new year, belatedly. I haven't have time to reflect on last year, exams are still on.

One more paper. They really shouldn't put four days in between papers though. I lose all momentum and become a lazy pig.