what a trip it has been. sand as far as the eye can see. sand dunes, sand beach, sand in your shoes and socks, sand everywhere. majestic pyramids that has lasted centuries, hieroglyphics that tell stories of a time before christ. tombs of the mummified dead and cruises along the famed river nile. i have encountered many firsts this time round. the first time i've spend the night in a sleeping cart as the train rolled on by. the chug-a-chug makes for a very calming, very comforting lullaby rock. i wake up many times that night, hoping, wishing, that our destination was still a long way away. it was also the first time i had dinner in a tent under the bright starry sky, far from civilisation, surrounded on all sides by sand to the horizon. we talked, we chatted, we laughed under the glow of the flickering candle. it was like a page out of aladdin, or some middle eastern fable. the stories told were captivating, to say the least, of queens and pharoahs long gone, of quells for power and lineage squabbles, of incest and forbidden affairs, stories that we can now only let imagination fill in the gaps of what history recorded. the first i've stepped on egyptian soil, tasted egyptian food and interacted with their people.
i looked at all the sand surrounding us, so parched, so dry, so devoid of anything except more sand, and all i could think of was how could they have let their country go to such waste. a long long time ago, there were trees, there were greeneries. they were a rich powerful country, building huge monumental structures that were simply mind-boggling. their architecture, their medical knowledge were beyond the times. all that is left now are fine grains of sand that slip from one's grasp. awe striking legacies are now reduced to a 'one dollar' nation.
everywhere that you go, everywhere that you turn, everybody screams 'one dollar' at you, almost like it is a term of greeting. hello, good morning, how do you do, one dollar. you will think that it is en egyptian term for acknowledgement, one that sounded so much like our american unit of currency. unfortunately, you listened to what you heard, a request, more like a demand for money. one dollar for whatever they are selling. one dollar for taking photographs of them. one dollar for using their restroom. one dollar for even looking at them! old men with age wrinkling their faces, young handsome men, even healthy decent looking children, all demanding money as if it was their god given right. if you make a purchase, be swift on your feet, for you will most likely be short-changed, deliberately. it is a place where you have to be on your toes.
everyday was an adventure in itself, a page in life.
we were told that they will charge us for taking photographs of them. still, armed with that information, we were not prepared. sleepy, disorientated and exhausted, we clambered down from the bus for our first tourist spot, the pyramid at saqqara. we were hounded almost immediately by the locals working that area. we knew better, or at least we thought we did. we rejected their offer of taking photos. free, no charge, they tempted us. we ignored them whilst they brazenly interjected themselves in our family pose. they persisted. they took off their headwear and placed it on the hubby. thanks, but no thanks, i am not going to be caught dead in some strange guy's piece of clothing. later, he stuck his hand out for some money. i thought you said free, i was screaming inside my head. but i know better than to argue with these people. their hide is as thick as their face. for them it's survival. we gave in, but so many times i had to feign deafness to ignore their demands for money.
when you venture into their markets, they open their prices with the sky. absurd, you say. then what do you want, they ask. it is all a very tiring process of bargaining, of give and take. i am lost in this place, where your words are not your meaning, where manipulation is the game. you think you have won when you bargained to rock bottom prices, then you think back, all the grabbing of your arms, the all-too-close proximity, the shameless request for a kiss or anything else in your bag for that matter. did you win or did they gain the upper hand?
egypt. that was egypt for me. a place full of mysteries and brazen people. a country so poor when it has so much. an experience of a lifetime.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
the story of snow white
i have a story to tell. an epilogue of a story that i have told, if you will. a very long time ago, in another blog, i told of the story of cinderella and her sad forsaken life after her children abandoned her and she went back to her shack to spend the rest of her life. today's story is about her daughter-in-law, the wife of the shopkeeper.
apparently, heartlessness run in the family like an inherited trait. the shopkeeper's wife, shall we call her snow white, has toiled most of her life to bring up her family of 6 children, 8 if you count the passive, indifferent, lazy excuse of a husband and the naggy, whiny and disillusioned cinderella. her life wasn't easy. she cooked, she washed, she cleaned, she looked after the shop, she looked after the old woman, she looked after the children, and she could do no more than close her eyes to the gallivanting ways of her husband. her life was a mindless routine of work, work and more work. how she find joy and the energy to carry on everyday, i do not know. but her hard work eventually paid off. all 6 children have grown up and left the nest, returning once in a while with their palms open for some money to tie over their single carefree lifestyles. yet she gives lovingly, she gives willingly, with nary a complain passing her mouth.
one unfortunate day, she fell down, very much like cinderella did years earlier, and broke her arm. it was most misfortunate, not to mention painful. now was the time for her children, the receipients of all her sacrifice and time, the apples of her eye, to return, to stay by her side and tend to her every beck and call, to return the great love that their mother had showered upon them for decades.
if one were to walk into the scene at the hospital, perhaps one would finally understand that life is definitely not fair. there she was, lying in immense pain on the bed, with one son hanging around like a lost puppy, with her baggages not far away, sorry i meant cinderella and the laggard husband. one son. out of the six children. or should i say one out of 12, since all 6 children were married, betrothed or have a devoted other half. perhaps the situation was dire, maybe it was a last minute thing, surely one can understand that not everybody are able to leave their jobs at such short notice. even when their mother is to be hospitalised.
the doctor came, the doctor saw, the doctor operated. they all visited, her children. though not everyday, though not for long hours, but they all made an appearance during her long stay at the hospital. they took turns to hang around the hospital and keep her company, some more than others. her oldest rarely visited, though that can also be understood, with 3 children and a husband in tow. snow white will understand.
come operation day, 4 turned up. 4 out of the 12. the day to send her in to the operation theatre. the day to assure her that all will be well. the day to see her tears fall from her eyes when the doors of the theatre were closing. the day to see her for the last time for nobody ever knows with surgeries, risk are always involved. 8 were glaringly missing. nice to know that they have such confidence in the doctor and the hospital . nevertheless, snow white will understand.
that is the fact of life. nobody rushed to come forward to pay the bill. cinderella's son-in-law picked up the tab in the end, the one with the deeper pocket. that is the practical side of life. after she checked out of the hospital, on her way to recovery, we hear the chirping of the little baby birds once more, asking for receipts for the hospital bill payments. when snow white was admitted, we hear silence. when she was in the hospital, we hear silence. when she was pushed into the operating theatre, we hear silence. when they need the receipts to claim for insurance, we hear a lot of chirping. if you think for one minute that they are so aggressive in claiming back the money so that they can repay the deeper pocket uncle, you are more naive than you think.
such is the circle of life. an incomplete one.
if families are so cold, how do we face the rest of the world? if love is so superficial, how do we carry on? if life is just these, where is the meaning?
apparently, heartlessness run in the family like an inherited trait. the shopkeeper's wife, shall we call her snow white, has toiled most of her life to bring up her family of 6 children, 8 if you count the passive, indifferent, lazy excuse of a husband and the naggy, whiny and disillusioned cinderella. her life wasn't easy. she cooked, she washed, she cleaned, she looked after the shop, she looked after the old woman, she looked after the children, and she could do no more than close her eyes to the gallivanting ways of her husband. her life was a mindless routine of work, work and more work. how she find joy and the energy to carry on everyday, i do not know. but her hard work eventually paid off. all 6 children have grown up and left the nest, returning once in a while with their palms open for some money to tie over their single carefree lifestyles. yet she gives lovingly, she gives willingly, with nary a complain passing her mouth.
one unfortunate day, she fell down, very much like cinderella did years earlier, and broke her arm. it was most misfortunate, not to mention painful. now was the time for her children, the receipients of all her sacrifice and time, the apples of her eye, to return, to stay by her side and tend to her every beck and call, to return the great love that their mother had showered upon them for decades.
if one were to walk into the scene at the hospital, perhaps one would finally understand that life is definitely not fair. there she was, lying in immense pain on the bed, with one son hanging around like a lost puppy, with her baggages not far away, sorry i meant cinderella and the laggard husband. one son. out of the six children. or should i say one out of 12, since all 6 children were married, betrothed or have a devoted other half. perhaps the situation was dire, maybe it was a last minute thing, surely one can understand that not everybody are able to leave their jobs at such short notice. even when their mother is to be hospitalised.
the doctor came, the doctor saw, the doctor operated. they all visited, her children. though not everyday, though not for long hours, but they all made an appearance during her long stay at the hospital. they took turns to hang around the hospital and keep her company, some more than others. her oldest rarely visited, though that can also be understood, with 3 children and a husband in tow. snow white will understand.
come operation day, 4 turned up. 4 out of the 12. the day to send her in to the operation theatre. the day to assure her that all will be well. the day to see her tears fall from her eyes when the doors of the theatre were closing. the day to see her for the last time for nobody ever knows with surgeries, risk are always involved. 8 were glaringly missing. nice to know that they have such confidence in the doctor and the hospital . nevertheless, snow white will understand.
that is the fact of life. nobody rushed to come forward to pay the bill. cinderella's son-in-law picked up the tab in the end, the one with the deeper pocket. that is the practical side of life. after she checked out of the hospital, on her way to recovery, we hear the chirping of the little baby birds once more, asking for receipts for the hospital bill payments. when snow white was admitted, we hear silence. when she was in the hospital, we hear silence. when she was pushed into the operating theatre, we hear silence. when they need the receipts to claim for insurance, we hear a lot of chirping. if you think for one minute that they are so aggressive in claiming back the money so that they can repay the deeper pocket uncle, you are more naive than you think.
such is the circle of life. an incomplete one.
if families are so cold, how do we face the rest of the world? if love is so superficial, how do we carry on? if life is just these, where is the meaning?
Monday, December 14, 2009
that fat old man in red
this year my daughter realises that santa is really her mummy. she hasn't made any comment about her newly gained knowledge, or showed any signs whether it will scar her indefinitely and turn her into an unbalanced weird lady who is borderline psychotic. she seems to have accepted the fact well, as long as mummy santa keeps on delivering. a wise little girl i have on my hand.
still, it's a little sad for me, and i should think for her as well, that the santa fantasy has popped. there is something very magical about the fat red old man bringing presents for children. i mean, presents from anybody will do just fine from a kid's viewpoint, but nobody beats santa. it brings out the christmas spirit in you, that little spring in your walk, that little christmas hum, that spirit of giving and sharing and that 'ho ho ho'. christmas will definitely be a lot quiter, a lot less cheer without santa.
i had a secret santa when i was a kid too. well, just for one christmas, and i knew straightaway that it was my uncles, but it still felt special and wonderful. and it was this feeling that i wanted to recreate for my kids when i took on the role of santa since they were little wee ones. it wasn't an easy task, worse every year that they are growing older and wiser, since i have to sneak around to get presents, wake up in the middle of the night to wrap them and place them where they will be found, and not forgetting acting very surprised the very next morning together with the kids. they can only be gullible for so long.
the younger one is still lost in his world of dreams. he hasn't caught on to the fact....... i think. unless he has caught on and he has a better poker face than his sister. he's still wishing for psp's and has even got the entire toys 'r' us catalog circled. santa won't bring presents for greedy children, i told him. but i think he's still keeping his fingers crossed. i like the naiveness in him, the innocence, the pureness and i wish i can keep him like that for as long as his childhood lasts.
what i can't understand is why some adults have to be so cruel. during an art lesson last week, we were so engrossed in our paintings and the cheery christmas song in the air, when the teacher said out loud, 'you know that santa doesn't exist and is just your mummy and daddy'. if i wasn't so much in the christmassy mood, i would have very much like to clobber her. to stomp on her a little and say 'ho ho ho'. what did she get for breaking other children's dream? i think she is mr. scrooge reincarnated, revelling in bursting the bubble of little ones and the happiness and laughters that go with it. she had nothing to gain, absolutely nothing. what possible ulterior motives could she have? to do something bad when you have absolutely no benefit is of such low moral character. luckily only my daughter was around, my son wandering a little off hearing distance. i sushed her into silence. and to think, she was this sweet soft-spoken artistic lady, or at least to all outward appearance.
i'll be a little sad when my son doesn't believe in santa anymore, for when santa disappears from his fantasy world, a little part of me will have to disappear as well. that little playful fun-loving happy part. the part that watches her children's faces light up with joy as they open their presents from santa. sometimes it was inconvenient, the secret santa's job, sometimes it was troublesome. but it was worth every minute of it.
still, it's a little sad for me, and i should think for her as well, that the santa fantasy has popped. there is something very magical about the fat red old man bringing presents for children. i mean, presents from anybody will do just fine from a kid's viewpoint, but nobody beats santa. it brings out the christmas spirit in you, that little spring in your walk, that little christmas hum, that spirit of giving and sharing and that 'ho ho ho'. christmas will definitely be a lot quiter, a lot less cheer without santa.
i had a secret santa when i was a kid too. well, just for one christmas, and i knew straightaway that it was my uncles, but it still felt special and wonderful. and it was this feeling that i wanted to recreate for my kids when i took on the role of santa since they were little wee ones. it wasn't an easy task, worse every year that they are growing older and wiser, since i have to sneak around to get presents, wake up in the middle of the night to wrap them and place them where they will be found, and not forgetting acting very surprised the very next morning together with the kids. they can only be gullible for so long.
the younger one is still lost in his world of dreams. he hasn't caught on to the fact....... i think. unless he has caught on and he has a better poker face than his sister. he's still wishing for psp's and has even got the entire toys 'r' us catalog circled. santa won't bring presents for greedy children, i told him. but i think he's still keeping his fingers crossed. i like the naiveness in him, the innocence, the pureness and i wish i can keep him like that for as long as his childhood lasts.
what i can't understand is why some adults have to be so cruel. during an art lesson last week, we were so engrossed in our paintings and the cheery christmas song in the air, when the teacher said out loud, 'you know that santa doesn't exist and is just your mummy and daddy'. if i wasn't so much in the christmassy mood, i would have very much like to clobber her. to stomp on her a little and say 'ho ho ho'. what did she get for breaking other children's dream? i think she is mr. scrooge reincarnated, revelling in bursting the bubble of little ones and the happiness and laughters that go with it. she had nothing to gain, absolutely nothing. what possible ulterior motives could she have? to do something bad when you have absolutely no benefit is of such low moral character. luckily only my daughter was around, my son wandering a little off hearing distance. i sushed her into silence. and to think, she was this sweet soft-spoken artistic lady, or at least to all outward appearance.
i'll be a little sad when my son doesn't believe in santa anymore, for when santa disappears from his fantasy world, a little part of me will have to disappear as well. that little playful fun-loving happy part. the part that watches her children's faces light up with joy as they open their presents from santa. sometimes it was inconvenient, the secret santa's job, sometimes it was troublesome. but it was worth every minute of it.
Friday, December 11, 2009
born like that
...is irritated by how compulsive my personality is. i can't rest easy until i have finished playing that pc game, until all the challenges of each level are met and the screen comes up with 'return to main menu'. it's like i need a perfect finish to each and every task and wrap up the entire thing in a beautifully wrapped package, complete with a ribbon on top. for each and every game that i come across. used to be when tetris was in fashion, i'll play tetris all night and day, until i see coloured blocks falling when i close my eyes for the night. it is weary. yet the compulsiveness is at the very core of me.
i recently did something about my passion for creativity; i joined an art class. but i can't rest easy unless i'm painting every second of the day. long periods of time go by in a flash when i'm painting. i walked in the door at 12pm and the next time i checked the watch, it was 5pm. where did the 5 hours go? i suspected that the venue of the art studio is wrapped in a time-warped zone where time is stolen without one's conscious awareness, where they take your time and give it to others who need it more (like when someone shoot a bullet at you, and you see the bullet whizzing towards you and the 1 second is like 1 minute, frame by frame ala the matrix), but then again that is just my theory. after the 5 hours, i go home and my hands are still itchy. it feels incomplete without a paintbrush in hand. i'm imagining strokes, blending the colours in my mind.
the only thing i can think of, to remedy this diseased mindframe, is to do as much of it as fast as i can so that i can get a burnout and at the very least, slow down. an overdose of sorts. at the moment, the overdosage is not working, i'm lapping all the time i spend on it with much satisfaction. such is the behaviour of one's compulsive disorder. whatever i get my hands on, i need to do it all the time. like the book i pick up, i'll read it to all hours of the night until i reach the very last page, until i know the ending. should i be attending some psychotheraphy lessons? to teach me that it is alright to stop, to wait for another day. virgoans are supposed to be perfectionist, or have an insatiable drive for achieving perfection. it is so tiring, i feel sapped even i as speak, as i recall all the ways in which i am compulsive. a few more days later, or a few more days earlier and i'll be without this obsessive streak. would life be much easier then?
i recently did something about my passion for creativity; i joined an art class. but i can't rest easy unless i'm painting every second of the day. long periods of time go by in a flash when i'm painting. i walked in the door at 12pm and the next time i checked the watch, it was 5pm. where did the 5 hours go? i suspected that the venue of the art studio is wrapped in a time-warped zone where time is stolen without one's conscious awareness, where they take your time and give it to others who need it more (like when someone shoot a bullet at you, and you see the bullet whizzing towards you and the 1 second is like 1 minute, frame by frame ala the matrix), but then again that is just my theory. after the 5 hours, i go home and my hands are still itchy. it feels incomplete without a paintbrush in hand. i'm imagining strokes, blending the colours in my mind.
the only thing i can think of, to remedy this diseased mindframe, is to do as much of it as fast as i can so that i can get a burnout and at the very least, slow down. an overdose of sorts. at the moment, the overdosage is not working, i'm lapping all the time i spend on it with much satisfaction. such is the behaviour of one's compulsive disorder. whatever i get my hands on, i need to do it all the time. like the book i pick up, i'll read it to all hours of the night until i reach the very last page, until i know the ending. should i be attending some psychotheraphy lessons? to teach me that it is alright to stop, to wait for another day. virgoans are supposed to be perfectionist, or have an insatiable drive for achieving perfection. it is so tiring, i feel sapped even i as speak, as i recall all the ways in which i am compulsive. a few more days later, or a few more days earlier and i'll be without this obsessive streak. would life be much easier then?
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
self-worth
there is nothing more humbling, nothing that can bring you down to earth more than the innocence of a child.
he has spent the better part of his life building his empire, dedicating his time, his waking hours, his life to his work to be where he is today. he walked into the room, and a child innocently asked, 'are you the chef?'. in the majestic beauty of his cold hard majestic residence, he was not the master, the king, the supreme but instead, to outward appearance, a paid employee of the residence. yet the little child did not mean any malice, nor did he say it with sarcasm or insult. it was just a naive guileless question. to which brings the question to mind, is it all worth it?
he has spent the better part of his life building his empire, dedicating his time, his waking hours, his life to his work to be where he is today. he walked into the room, and a child innocently asked, 'are you the chef?'. in the majestic beauty of his cold hard majestic residence, he was not the master, the king, the supreme but instead, to outward appearance, a paid employee of the residence. yet the little child did not mean any malice, nor did he say it with sarcasm or insult. it was just a naive guileless question. to which brings the question to mind, is it all worth it?
Monday, December 07, 2009
fear
just when you think you are jaded, just when you think you know the world and it has nothing new to offer you, life surprises you in many ways. i'm trying new things nowadays. it's putting butterflies in my stomach. or is that just my gastric juice acting up again?
finally went on the trapeze, after hours and days of nagging from the little ones. for some strange reason, they want to see their mother, the person who went through much pain and hardship to give birth to them, go through the fright of her life and possibly suffer a heart attack in the process. kids are such little devils.
many will not understand what the big deal is about, but those closest to me know. my family understands, especially since they have been there with me everytime i freeze with fear in high places. i would sooner crawl on the dusty floor of hillside ledges rather than trust my own shaky feet. when people stood at the cliffside of the grand canyon in las vegas, enjoying the beautiful sceneries of the breathtaking gorge, i waited safely in the comfort of the bus, not missing a little bit of the acrophobia that i know will suffocate me.
my fear of heights is quite a strange thing. one day i was leaning over the balcony of the 23rd floor and dropping water balloons without any apprehension about the height and another day, i realised i was terrified of heights. perhaps it's the acknowledgement of mortality in all of us.
anyway, i am at a loss for words to describe the trapeze experience. i was mentally geared up, having been bomblasted for days on end by the kids but that didn't stop me from screaming just as i was approaching the trapeze site, just to let out all the tension and pent-up fear. the people in charge gave me a weird look. what? you never have a crazy petrified woman going on the trapeze before? the whole thing was surreal. it felt like i was emotionally removed from the physical experience, automatically performing what i was suppose to, hanging upside down from the swinging bar. my mind was a blur. i was rambling like some pathetic idiot. when my legs were back on safe ground, i realised my limbs were shivering uncontrollably. i don't know any other idiot who is so petrified of heights who will do such a dumb thing. after that experience, i think i am less afraid of heights. to face your fears, they say. but i am in no hurry to test my new found confidence. not for a very long time.
for now, i am all geared to try more new things. next on my list is roller blading along the east coast in that little island down south. first i have to get over my fear of falling down on my bum and spread eagled on the pavement like an idiot. then again, i'm already used to the feeling of being an idiot. one down, another to go.
finally went on the trapeze, after hours and days of nagging from the little ones. for some strange reason, they want to see their mother, the person who went through much pain and hardship to give birth to them, go through the fright of her life and possibly suffer a heart attack in the process. kids are such little devils.
many will not understand what the big deal is about, but those closest to me know. my family understands, especially since they have been there with me everytime i freeze with fear in high places. i would sooner crawl on the dusty floor of hillside ledges rather than trust my own shaky feet. when people stood at the cliffside of the grand canyon in las vegas, enjoying the beautiful sceneries of the breathtaking gorge, i waited safely in the comfort of the bus, not missing a little bit of the acrophobia that i know will suffocate me.
my fear of heights is quite a strange thing. one day i was leaning over the balcony of the 23rd floor and dropping water balloons without any apprehension about the height and another day, i realised i was terrified of heights. perhaps it's the acknowledgement of mortality in all of us.
anyway, i am at a loss for words to describe the trapeze experience. i was mentally geared up, having been bomblasted for days on end by the kids but that didn't stop me from screaming just as i was approaching the trapeze site, just to let out all the tension and pent-up fear. the people in charge gave me a weird look. what? you never have a crazy petrified woman going on the trapeze before? the whole thing was surreal. it felt like i was emotionally removed from the physical experience, automatically performing what i was suppose to, hanging upside down from the swinging bar. my mind was a blur. i was rambling like some pathetic idiot. when my legs were back on safe ground, i realised my limbs were shivering uncontrollably. i don't know any other idiot who is so petrified of heights who will do such a dumb thing. after that experience, i think i am less afraid of heights. to face your fears, they say. but i am in no hurry to test my new found confidence. not for a very long time.
for now, i am all geared to try more new things. next on my list is roller blading along the east coast in that little island down south. first i have to get over my fear of falling down on my bum and spread eagled on the pavement like an idiot. then again, i'm already used to the feeling of being an idiot. one down, another to go.
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
more than a head in the driver seat
who is looking out for you? we never really know the answer to that. until the time counts.
it was haji. we chose to drive ourselves to kuantan instead of getting him to drive us there. it wasn't so much to let him spend haji with his family, for the meaning of the holiday has skipped our mind, but because we wanted to experience driving there on our own. the feeling was exhilirating, the freedom, the control.
before we left, he gave us last minute instructions on how to reach the highway. ha! not surprising he didn't have much faith in us, we didn't have much faith in ourselves either. still, we were armed with a polite speaking gprs lady and the foolish confidence of the youth. youth? we are still young? how else can we explain our baseless confidence.
when we reach destination, my handphone tweeted with an incoming message. have you reached kuantan, he asked? i was surprised. it sounded like he care. true enough, he has been our chauffer for 10 years, ever since the arrival of the oldest. but for the last 10 years, the only times we have crossed words were details of errands for him to run and rebukes when he crosses his line. rarely, though not never, have i asked about his personal life. we have kept our distance and that was the way we like it. i have long learnt that the best relation with employees was an impersonal one, unless you want to court for messy dialogues. they work for you. full stop. they are not your friend. otherwise you'll be hearing all sorts of sob stories on why they cannot perform their work and why they need to borrow more money. complications, i don't need.
his sms took me by surprise. even my parents didn't call me at my estimated time of arrival to check whether i have arrived safely. i replied that i have just arrived. he texted back advising me to leave early on the date of departure so that i will not be caught up in the traffic jam.
i never realised he cared for us. i have always thought that we were his employers and that was that. his duty was to perform his job efficiently and nothing more. when his duty was not required, his ties to us cease. perhaps i have been more cold-blooded than him all these years. unforgiving. walls raised too high.
come monday morning, after the holiday, he was once again the head that was in the driver seat. i see nothing more of him than the back of his head, and we say nothing more. life goes back to normal.
it was haji. we chose to drive ourselves to kuantan instead of getting him to drive us there. it wasn't so much to let him spend haji with his family, for the meaning of the holiday has skipped our mind, but because we wanted to experience driving there on our own. the feeling was exhilirating, the freedom, the control.
before we left, he gave us last minute instructions on how to reach the highway. ha! not surprising he didn't have much faith in us, we didn't have much faith in ourselves either. still, we were armed with a polite speaking gprs lady and the foolish confidence of the youth. youth? we are still young? how else can we explain our baseless confidence.
when we reach destination, my handphone tweeted with an incoming message. have you reached kuantan, he asked? i was surprised. it sounded like he care. true enough, he has been our chauffer for 10 years, ever since the arrival of the oldest. but for the last 10 years, the only times we have crossed words were details of errands for him to run and rebukes when he crosses his line. rarely, though not never, have i asked about his personal life. we have kept our distance and that was the way we like it. i have long learnt that the best relation with employees was an impersonal one, unless you want to court for messy dialogues. they work for you. full stop. they are not your friend. otherwise you'll be hearing all sorts of sob stories on why they cannot perform their work and why they need to borrow more money. complications, i don't need.
his sms took me by surprise. even my parents didn't call me at my estimated time of arrival to check whether i have arrived safely. i replied that i have just arrived. he texted back advising me to leave early on the date of departure so that i will not be caught up in the traffic jam.
i never realised he cared for us. i have always thought that we were his employers and that was that. his duty was to perform his job efficiently and nothing more. when his duty was not required, his ties to us cease. perhaps i have been more cold-blooded than him all these years. unforgiving. walls raised too high.
come monday morning, after the holiday, he was once again the head that was in the driver seat. i see nothing more of him than the back of his head, and we say nothing more. life goes back to normal.
driving to freedom
taking our first road trip in malaysia was an eye-opener. not the first that we have travelled to other cities and towns in this country but the first that we have driven there ourselves. over the past two years, we have made numerous trip down south, whizzing past oil palms and rubber trees, rest stops and open blue skies and most of the time we were catching up on our z's whilst someone was behind the wheels. last weekend, i finally took the steering wheel into my own hands and made our way to the east coast.
the feeling was exhilirating, taking over control of your life rather than passively sitting around until the destination is in sight. this time, the whole journey was an adventure, from start to finish. music blasting away, kids dozing off in the back, a polite robotic-sounded lady reminding us constantly that a police speed trap was ahead, screaming our heads off in unison to the music, the picture painted was at once warm and beautiful. this is what family memories should be about. i was reminded of the times that i took long journeys during my university years, during the times when i was dumb and fearless. i wonder at the audacity of the youth, when you do things because you wanted to, when you don't have to ponder, calculate, plan and strategise, when execution was too long a word and you have gone before you finished saying the word. things were simple. life was simple. you wanted to go someplace, you rent a car, you pack some clothes and you were there. the freedom. that was what i was reminded of on this trip.
when the highways opened into clear blue skies, filled with palm trees and fields on both sides, my heart opened with it. not knowing what lies beyond the next corner, flying past at 130km/h, sceneries so beautiful but i couldn't take my eyes off the cars in front of me, not even for one second. it doesn't matter. i couldn't see with my eyes, but i saw with my heart. perhaps the sceneries were the same as those journeys down south, but the feeling was different. so dramatically different. i was taking control of life in my own hands. i don't seem to have much opportunities for that nowadays. this time the holiday didn't only start when we reach the destination, it started when i laid my hands on the wheel.
the feeling was exhilirating, taking over control of your life rather than passively sitting around until the destination is in sight. this time, the whole journey was an adventure, from start to finish. music blasting away, kids dozing off in the back, a polite robotic-sounded lady reminding us constantly that a police speed trap was ahead, screaming our heads off in unison to the music, the picture painted was at once warm and beautiful. this is what family memories should be about. i was reminded of the times that i took long journeys during my university years, during the times when i was dumb and fearless. i wonder at the audacity of the youth, when you do things because you wanted to, when you don't have to ponder, calculate, plan and strategise, when execution was too long a word and you have gone before you finished saying the word. things were simple. life was simple. you wanted to go someplace, you rent a car, you pack some clothes and you were there. the freedom. that was what i was reminded of on this trip.
when the highways opened into clear blue skies, filled with palm trees and fields on both sides, my heart opened with it. not knowing what lies beyond the next corner, flying past at 130km/h, sceneries so beautiful but i couldn't take my eyes off the cars in front of me, not even for one second. it doesn't matter. i couldn't see with my eyes, but i saw with my heart. perhaps the sceneries were the same as those journeys down south, but the feeling was different. so dramatically different. i was taking control of life in my own hands. i don't seem to have much opportunities for that nowadays. this time the holiday didn't only start when we reach the destination, it started when i laid my hands on the wheel.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
lost in communication
what does the passing of time gives you? besides wrinkles and slower metabolism, confidence. or is it simply that you don't really give a damn anymore? i find my tongue looser with age, that i have a higher tendency to say what is at the top of my mind, without care of consequences or deliberation, without bothering how it will be interpreted. i have been misunderstood more than once, more than twice, so many times that i have lost count. but i seem to be less perturbed by it. and i marvel at why that is so.
perhaps it is the art of communication that i am lacking. maybe it's in literal presentation that something is misinterpreted. the only place i seem to be able to express myself is here, in my blog. elsewhere, out of this imaginative world, i am at a lost - to explain myself, to express myself, to portray what i am. it is too much effort. i am too lazy. or is it because i simply do not see why i need to try so hard. just to be myself. if others can't see who i am, am i at the losing end, or are they?
on reflection, i have people mistaking my loose tongue for ulterior motives in friendship, my seemingly sudden enthusiasm for closeness as a scheming maneuver for their privileged lifestyle. i should have been hurt perhaps, especially when a friend of many years whom i have lost contact with also shares the same opinion, but the absurdity of such suggestion only makes me chuckle inwards. if only they knew. and so i let it be.
sometimes, i ask myself. perhaps it's me? sigh. in this world where walls are high and compassions are low, people read into situations with a lot more caution. self protection. who can blame? that is the way this world has evolved. perhaps i am also guilty of as much defence. who bothers to answer one question with a hundred words anymore? who will look up lost friends with such enthusiasm? unless one has ulterior motives. when the phone rings, i pick it up and wait for the caller to go through the usual niceties of 'good morning', 'how have you been?', 'how are the children?', 'how are your parents?', 'have you been on holiday recently?' and a whole multitude of polite mannerism before they embark on their purpose for calling. i am weary. so i understand. yet i do not attempt in any way to change; who i am, how i communicate or how others see me.
age has made me less concerned about the opinions of others. time has taught me that friendship is not the meeting of two people. it is a collision of fate. fate that we will meet. fate that we will become friends, against all odds. fate that we have remained friends. i have lost too many friends that i value through the cruelties that we call life. i do not seem to have the strength to foster new ties. let fate play its card.
perhaps it is the art of communication that i am lacking. maybe it's in literal presentation that something is misinterpreted. the only place i seem to be able to express myself is here, in my blog. elsewhere, out of this imaginative world, i am at a lost - to explain myself, to express myself, to portray what i am. it is too much effort. i am too lazy. or is it because i simply do not see why i need to try so hard. just to be myself. if others can't see who i am, am i at the losing end, or are they?
on reflection, i have people mistaking my loose tongue for ulterior motives in friendship, my seemingly sudden enthusiasm for closeness as a scheming maneuver for their privileged lifestyle. i should have been hurt perhaps, especially when a friend of many years whom i have lost contact with also shares the same opinion, but the absurdity of such suggestion only makes me chuckle inwards. if only they knew. and so i let it be.
sometimes, i ask myself. perhaps it's me? sigh. in this world where walls are high and compassions are low, people read into situations with a lot more caution. self protection. who can blame? that is the way this world has evolved. perhaps i am also guilty of as much defence. who bothers to answer one question with a hundred words anymore? who will look up lost friends with such enthusiasm? unless one has ulterior motives. when the phone rings, i pick it up and wait for the caller to go through the usual niceties of 'good morning', 'how have you been?', 'how are the children?', 'how are your parents?', 'have you been on holiday recently?' and a whole multitude of polite mannerism before they embark on their purpose for calling. i am weary. so i understand. yet i do not attempt in any way to change; who i am, how i communicate or how others see me.
age has made me less concerned about the opinions of others. time has taught me that friendship is not the meeting of two people. it is a collision of fate. fate that we will meet. fate that we will become friends, against all odds. fate that we have remained friends. i have lost too many friends that i value through the cruelties that we call life. i do not seem to have the strength to foster new ties. let fate play its card.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
worn out
i spread myself too thin, i know that. like a piece of toasted bread with a very thin veil of butter, hardly any taste of the soft velvety richness that melts in the mouth. that is the problem when you spread yourself too thin. but we live our life the only way we know how, the only way that works for us. i have been too fortunate in my life, this is the only way i know to give back; to give love to others and to be there for others.
i get tired too. physically worn out. sometimes i try too hard. i refresh by remembering the beautiful things that bring joy to my heart, the kaleidoscope of memories that is in my head. like the drive in the night i wrote about a few weeks ago. like that beautiful glimpse of starbucks that day when i walked past, window all misty, inside all red, warm and chrismassy. like the hugs i get from people who care. like the basking in the sun that is very imminent. all these are things that make me tick. that make me whole again.
i get tired too. physically worn out. sometimes i try too hard. i refresh by remembering the beautiful things that bring joy to my heart, the kaleidoscope of memories that is in my head. like the drive in the night i wrote about a few weeks ago. like that beautiful glimpse of starbucks that day when i walked past, window all misty, inside all red, warm and chrismassy. like the hugs i get from people who care. like the basking in the sun that is very imminent. all these are things that make me tick. that make me whole again.
Monday, November 16, 2009
parenting 101
sunday was about de-cluttering. there wasn't much to do. no groceries to buy, no errands to run, so i decided to start clearing up the children's school books. another year, another end to the school term. time to sort out the old ones, recycle the disused books, tear out the unused papers for scrap and clean out the cupboards.
so many hours later, after much back-breaking labour, i have finally cleared little princess' shelves and was halfway through little batman's. their cupboards were once again empty to receive the new books for the next school year.
little princess has been helping me throughout the morning. only towards the end, just when we were going to break for lunch, she asked, 'mum, did you throw away all my books?'. i wonder what we were doing for the last 3 hours. did an alien possessed my daughter and just now released her body and brain? 'i still have one more week of class?'. gasp! errrr..... in my enthusiasm to get rid of the clutter, i have forgotten that they may still need the books. after all, exams are already finished and they have started teaching next year's scope. why do they need the old books? still, daughter wasn't easily appeased. 'i still need some of those books'. she couldn't tell me that when we were just starting.
if teacher asks you why you didn't bring your book, just go, 'oh, oh, i have a stomach ache. i need to go to the nurse'. and then come back to class only when it is over. and if the next teacher also asks you the same thing, go 'oh, oh, i have a stomach ache' again.
sigh. some parents. the nonsense that they are teaching their kids.
so many hours later, after much back-breaking labour, i have finally cleared little princess' shelves and was halfway through little batman's. their cupboards were once again empty to receive the new books for the next school year.
little princess has been helping me throughout the morning. only towards the end, just when we were going to break for lunch, she asked, 'mum, did you throw away all my books?'. i wonder what we were doing for the last 3 hours. did an alien possessed my daughter and just now released her body and brain? 'i still have one more week of class?'. gasp! errrr..... in my enthusiasm to get rid of the clutter, i have forgotten that they may still need the books. after all, exams are already finished and they have started teaching next year's scope. why do they need the old books? still, daughter wasn't easily appeased. 'i still need some of those books'. she couldn't tell me that when we were just starting.
if teacher asks you why you didn't bring your book, just go, 'oh, oh, i have a stomach ache. i need to go to the nurse'. and then come back to class only when it is over. and if the next teacher also asks you the same thing, go 'oh, oh, i have a stomach ache' again.
sigh. some parents. the nonsense that they are teaching their kids.
saturday
saturday was about family and friendship.
little batman's concert was in the morning. the schedule was for parents to arrive at 9.30 am. i think we arrived slightly earlier than that, to be greeted by a mammoth crowd of parents already gathering outside the hall, waiting for the doors to open and be admitted within. by the time we could make our way in, most of the seats were taken. we were left with not-so-favourable ones and i ended up holding the tripod stand on the chair, between my legs, like an enormous joss-stick reaching up into the sky throughout the show. ok, that was because i was dumb enough to bring a tripod that was not long enough, but then if i had good seats, like the very first row, i didn't have to do that to avoid the sea of heads. should have just ta-paued my bee hoon soup and squat infront of the hall first thing in the morning after we dropped little batman off. that kiasu i am not. so i contend with holding the giant joss-stick for the entire show. i tried to make little princess scurry between the legs of the parents and rush into the hall when the doors open, like the little rabbit that she is, or perhaps squirm on the floor like a snake but she refused. sigh. kids nowadays, you just can't make them do dumb stuffs anymore.
afternoon was about friends. old friendship. a friend of 27 years was holding a first birthday party for his daughter. we had to walk all the way to the venue. how cruel. no transportation. we couldn't find anybody who could give us a ride. it was also raining quite heavily. so, we walked in the rain, all in the name of friendship, the 100 steps to the venue. to say that it was very near my house is an understatement. there is some satisfaction from going to a party that is so close in proximity, i don't know why. the very idea of just walking down there, eat, smack your bums and walk back up to the comfort of your own home is extremely appealing. more people should hold parties and get-togethers next to my place. :-p
the creme of the cake was perhaps in the evening. driving back from dinner, it was slightly misty and the night was cool. all around was pitch black, except for the red, yellow and white lights from the hustle and bustle of city life. the rain made the lights flared and diffused, almost magical, shining through the windshield. it was like i was lost in time, in another country, in another moment, where nothing mattered, where everything is beautiful, where contentment is perpetual. i drove as slowly as i could. i carry the picture of that beautiful night with me, for as long as i can.
little batman's concert was in the morning. the schedule was for parents to arrive at 9.30 am. i think we arrived slightly earlier than that, to be greeted by a mammoth crowd of parents already gathering outside the hall, waiting for the doors to open and be admitted within. by the time we could make our way in, most of the seats were taken. we were left with not-so-favourable ones and i ended up holding the tripod stand on the chair, between my legs, like an enormous joss-stick reaching up into the sky throughout the show. ok, that was because i was dumb enough to bring a tripod that was not long enough, but then if i had good seats, like the very first row, i didn't have to do that to avoid the sea of heads. should have just ta-paued my bee hoon soup and squat infront of the hall first thing in the morning after we dropped little batman off. that kiasu i am not. so i contend with holding the giant joss-stick for the entire show. i tried to make little princess scurry between the legs of the parents and rush into the hall when the doors open, like the little rabbit that she is, or perhaps squirm on the floor like a snake but she refused. sigh. kids nowadays, you just can't make them do dumb stuffs anymore.
afternoon was about friends. old friendship. a friend of 27 years was holding a first birthday party for his daughter. we had to walk all the way to the venue. how cruel. no transportation. we couldn't find anybody who could give us a ride. it was also raining quite heavily. so, we walked in the rain, all in the name of friendship, the 100 steps to the venue. to say that it was very near my house is an understatement. there is some satisfaction from going to a party that is so close in proximity, i don't know why. the very idea of just walking down there, eat, smack your bums and walk back up to the comfort of your own home is extremely appealing. more people should hold parties and get-togethers next to my place. :-p
the creme of the cake was perhaps in the evening. driving back from dinner, it was slightly misty and the night was cool. all around was pitch black, except for the red, yellow and white lights from the hustle and bustle of city life. the rain made the lights flared and diffused, almost magical, shining through the windshield. it was like i was lost in time, in another country, in another moment, where nothing mattered, where everything is beautiful, where contentment is perpetual. i drove as slowly as i could. i carry the picture of that beautiful night with me, for as long as i can.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
apprehension
the doctor called me back into the room after we walked out. shit, this can't be good. she went into a rather loud talk about how the medicine should be taken. she is making no sense. then i realise it was because the door hasn't closed fully yet.
when the door was shut, she explained to me that there could be two conditions that is causing the stiffness in mum's hands; some kind of nerve lession and ..... parkinson's. i can't believe what i was hearing. all the while in my brain was the conscious thought that she is out there and probably very worried about the doctor calling me back into the room. the words that the doctor was saying is not going into my brain. it is just a probability. but not one that i want to hear or believe in. when the doctor told her that she must have a brain mri earlier, her eyes were already glazed and suspiciously red. it is only a possibility, and we need to see if she responds to the medicine for 2 weeks, so there is no reason to frighten her for the time being. meanwhile, i am terrible frightened, and shocked.
as i exit from the room, i must put on a brave face and pretend all the doctor told me was instructions on how to take the medicine. she kept asking me. my mother has always been amazingly sharp. i stuck to my story. she kept asking. i kept repeating. inside, nobody knows the turmoil building inside. the fear. the loneliness. i had to face it all alone. this doesn't surprise me, that has been and always be the story of my life. i must get use to it. sometimes when my thoughts drift back to all the scary possiblities, on the reflection of what the doctor has told me, i had to pull myself back all immediately, so that she will not perceive the change in my mood. why was all this thrust on me and just me alone? i wasn't prepared. i couldn't text anyone. i couldn't call anyone. bro called just as i was picking up the medicine. i couldn't talk, i couldn't tell him. i told him later, i was busy. thank goodness it was the correct timing.
it will seem that i always face each hurdle with a lack of emotion, an alien sense of detachment, just so that i can carry out the process of caring, of taking care and giving emotional support. i could not indulge in grieving, in deliberating, otherwise i will break down myself. i stop myself from thinking, from feeling. that is the only way i can continue.
this will be the first time that we do not want the medication to work. the only time when its ineffectiveness spells good news. but, after that, then what? where do we go from here? it's going to be a very long road. and we can only take it one step at a time.
when the door was shut, she explained to me that there could be two conditions that is causing the stiffness in mum's hands; some kind of nerve lession and ..... parkinson's. i can't believe what i was hearing. all the while in my brain was the conscious thought that she is out there and probably very worried about the doctor calling me back into the room. the words that the doctor was saying is not going into my brain. it is just a probability. but not one that i want to hear or believe in. when the doctor told her that she must have a brain mri earlier, her eyes were already glazed and suspiciously red. it is only a possibility, and we need to see if she responds to the medicine for 2 weeks, so there is no reason to frighten her for the time being. meanwhile, i am terrible frightened, and shocked.
as i exit from the room, i must put on a brave face and pretend all the doctor told me was instructions on how to take the medicine. she kept asking me. my mother has always been amazingly sharp. i stuck to my story. she kept asking. i kept repeating. inside, nobody knows the turmoil building inside. the fear. the loneliness. i had to face it all alone. this doesn't surprise me, that has been and always be the story of my life. i must get use to it. sometimes when my thoughts drift back to all the scary possiblities, on the reflection of what the doctor has told me, i had to pull myself back all immediately, so that she will not perceive the change in my mood. why was all this thrust on me and just me alone? i wasn't prepared. i couldn't text anyone. i couldn't call anyone. bro called just as i was picking up the medicine. i couldn't talk, i couldn't tell him. i told him later, i was busy. thank goodness it was the correct timing.
it will seem that i always face each hurdle with a lack of emotion, an alien sense of detachment, just so that i can carry out the process of caring, of taking care and giving emotional support. i could not indulge in grieving, in deliberating, otherwise i will break down myself. i stop myself from thinking, from feeling. that is the only way i can continue.
this will be the first time that we do not want the medication to work. the only time when its ineffectiveness spells good news. but, after that, then what? where do we go from here? it's going to be a very long road. and we can only take it one step at a time.
Monday, November 09, 2009
on my way to eccentricity
in my old(er) age, i find myself getting more eccentric. more whimsical. i find it harder to hold my tongue. or is it that i don't want to anymore.
i slid into the booth chair and the seat coverings are torn, patchy and run down. the waitress approaches to take our orders. the first thing i tell her is that the seats are run down and to tell the owner to change it. i have no doubt that what i said to her went in one ear and out the other. nevertheless, i wanted to say it. i had to say it.
he handed me a box of very wet, very black noodles, all soggy and unappetising. this is penang fried kway teow, i asked him. yes, penang fried kway teow is the wet one. the kway teow goreng is the dry one. many people have that mixed up, he replied. no way!! you can't have visited penang! the famous penang char kway teow, by the two sisters, next to the big tree, is the yummiest lightest DRY kway teow ever fried. it's so well-known. 'i'm from butterworth', he claimed. 'the fried kway teow there is wet'. what is this? a racial difference thing? theirs are wet whilst ours are dry? anyway, if you use the phrase penang char kway teow anywhere, everybody knows it's the dry type. 'do you want to change it, miss?', that man finally offered. no, it's ok, i rejected his offer, and continued to argue with him over the authenticity of his 'penang char kway teow'. after another few minutes, he offered again, 'miss, nevermind i'll change it for you, you wait for a few minutes'. he must be very frustrated. and very thirsty. he was desperate for an end. no, it's alright, and again i launched into the difference between the food. even when i don't intend to change the course of actions or the results, i enter into a verbal debate. for what? what possible purpose can it fulfil except as an outlet for my verbal diarrhoea. sometimes it is the principle of the matter.
i'm old, i'm eccentric. perhaps this is the arrogance of the old.
i slid into the booth chair and the seat coverings are torn, patchy and run down. the waitress approaches to take our orders. the first thing i tell her is that the seats are run down and to tell the owner to change it. i have no doubt that what i said to her went in one ear and out the other. nevertheless, i wanted to say it. i had to say it.
he handed me a box of very wet, very black noodles, all soggy and unappetising. this is penang fried kway teow, i asked him. yes, penang fried kway teow is the wet one. the kway teow goreng is the dry one. many people have that mixed up, he replied. no way!! you can't have visited penang! the famous penang char kway teow, by the two sisters, next to the big tree, is the yummiest lightest DRY kway teow ever fried. it's so well-known. 'i'm from butterworth', he claimed. 'the fried kway teow there is wet'. what is this? a racial difference thing? theirs are wet whilst ours are dry? anyway, if you use the phrase penang char kway teow anywhere, everybody knows it's the dry type. 'do you want to change it, miss?', that man finally offered. no, it's ok, i rejected his offer, and continued to argue with him over the authenticity of his 'penang char kway teow'. after another few minutes, he offered again, 'miss, nevermind i'll change it for you, you wait for a few minutes'. he must be very frustrated. and very thirsty. he was desperate for an end. no, it's alright, and again i launched into the difference between the food. even when i don't intend to change the course of actions or the results, i enter into a verbal debate. for what? what possible purpose can it fulfil except as an outlet for my verbal diarrhoea. sometimes it is the principle of the matter.
i'm old, i'm eccentric. perhaps this is the arrogance of the old.
sincerity doubted
some people think that i befriend them for a hidden agenda. other than a genuine offer of friendship, of course. which in itself is already quite rare on my part. i find it to be quite preposterous. if only they know of me, my background, my life. but they don't. and i don't have any intention to enlighten them. after all, it is their loss and not mine.
perhaps i can do more to eleviate their concerns, their doubts. but i don't want to. i have never liked explaining myself.
perhaps i can do more to eleviate their concerns, their doubts. but i don't want to. i have never liked explaining myself.
whimsical monday
if i live in a house, as opposed to an apartment, and
if i live in a country with four seasons....
i will plant a lemon tree.
a yellow lemon tree in the corner of my garden.
and all that i can see is just a yellow lemon tree.
a big tree, full of yellow lemons. lemons in my salad, lemons in my house, lemons in my drink, lemons everywhere. i'll be sick of lemons very soon. but not now. now i like lemons. yet i forget about them as soon as i buy them and leave them to dry out in my fridge. i'm sorry, lemon no. 1. i'm sorry, lemon no. 2. i'm sorry, lemon no. 3. and their many many siblings.
if i live in a country with four seasons....
i will plant a lemon tree.
a yellow lemon tree in the corner of my garden.
and all that i can see is just a yellow lemon tree.
a big tree, full of yellow lemons. lemons in my salad, lemons in my house, lemons in my drink, lemons everywhere. i'll be sick of lemons very soon. but not now. now i like lemons. yet i forget about them as soon as i buy them and leave them to dry out in my fridge. i'm sorry, lemon no. 1. i'm sorry, lemon no. 2. i'm sorry, lemon no. 3. and their many many siblings.
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
better life
my driver pushes the seat back and lies down for a nap in the van, in the luxury of a fully air-conditioned surrounding, whilst he waits for me. other times, he sits in there, away from the hot scalding sun, and pours over his newspaper. one newspaper lasts him the whole day for his reading pleasure. he reads them from cover to cover. why not? he has all the time in the world. bored, he will alight and seek out his nearby acquaintance for a chat or some small talk. all the drivers in the world are part of a secret society, they seem to know each other. if they don't, no problem, they'll know each other in a matter of few seconds.
lunch is several hours long when the boss doesn't require his service, which usually she doesn't. work is over at 4 when the last job of the day is done. sometimes, work entails driving here and there, delivering this and that. it's all still very light-weight stuff. no pressure, no competition, no office politics, no complications. pay may not be high, but it's enough to live by. not enough for that month? just come in for a few more hours for more chat with friends, and more hanging around. sick, just take the day off. not feeling like coming for work, just take another day off.
meanwhile, i'm slaving away in front of the computer and desk night and day. i'm beating deadlines, i'm rushing to get more stuffs done. sick or healthy, i still have to deliver. can't let a little thing like that baby who is kicking and pushing to get out from the stomach stop me from meeting deadlines. i work till my back is sore and my shoulder tight.
sometimes i wonder, who got it good? whose life is what we should be striving for? more work, more money? why do we need so much money anyway? to put our kids through a good university, yes i forgot. but do we need so much more than that? we work so hard so that we have more money, so that we can then live an easy life. which he is already doing at the moment. sometimes you get so caught up that you just can't stop, you can't unwind. knowing how to be contented is a difficult art. just when you think you know, then you stop and think, is your life really better than his?
lunch is several hours long when the boss doesn't require his service, which usually she doesn't. work is over at 4 when the last job of the day is done. sometimes, work entails driving here and there, delivering this and that. it's all still very light-weight stuff. no pressure, no competition, no office politics, no complications. pay may not be high, but it's enough to live by. not enough for that month? just come in for a few more hours for more chat with friends, and more hanging around. sick, just take the day off. not feeling like coming for work, just take another day off.
meanwhile, i'm slaving away in front of the computer and desk night and day. i'm beating deadlines, i'm rushing to get more stuffs done. sick or healthy, i still have to deliver. can't let a little thing like that baby who is kicking and pushing to get out from the stomach stop me from meeting deadlines. i work till my back is sore and my shoulder tight.
sometimes i wonder, who got it good? whose life is what we should be striving for? more work, more money? why do we need so much money anyway? to put our kids through a good university, yes i forgot. but do we need so much more than that? we work so hard so that we have more money, so that we can then live an easy life. which he is already doing at the moment. sometimes you get so caught up that you just can't stop, you can't unwind. knowing how to be contented is a difficult art. just when you think you know, then you stop and think, is your life really better than his?
in need of medicine
friends. why do we seek out the company of some and shun others? for all sorts of reason; social standings, common interest, familiarity, even physical proximity to home. for me, the reason is simple. i am drawn to those who make me laugh. not that i will shun others who don't, but i find myself drawn to companionship that makes me exercise the gut muscle. laughters, who doesn't like to laugh. getting older, i find that i hear my own laughters less often. that once familiar sound which flitters nearby when i'm nervous, excited and most certainly when i'm happy, is like a distant relative now. it seldom comes for a visit.
is it more difficult to make me laugh now? no, at least i don't think so. i'm willing, even desperate to laugh myself silly over the smallest of thing but it seems opportunities are rare and far in between. quick, tell me a joke, i promise i'll laugh. i'll even tickle myself if it would help, but unfortunately i'm not ticklish. perhaps, that tells a lot about my frame of mind. joke books are read with an occasional snicker or more usually, a bored and impervious countenance. i even tell jokes with a straight face nowadays! i'm really scrapping the bottom of the barrel.
why is it so difficult to seek for laughters? of all my friends, i only know one or two who makes me laugh. and most definitely, not female. aren't women funny? is that why most stand-up comedians, and clowns for that matter, are men? maybe men are natural born jokers. ha. did you see that? even literally, my laughter has been reduced to a single 'ha' instead of the usual 'ha-ha'. life is pathetic. i need a dose of laughter medicine.
is it more difficult to make me laugh now? no, at least i don't think so. i'm willing, even desperate to laugh myself silly over the smallest of thing but it seems opportunities are rare and far in between. quick, tell me a joke, i promise i'll laugh. i'll even tickle myself if it would help, but unfortunately i'm not ticklish. perhaps, that tells a lot about my frame of mind. joke books are read with an occasional snicker or more usually, a bored and impervious countenance. i even tell jokes with a straight face nowadays! i'm really scrapping the bottom of the barrel.
why is it so difficult to seek for laughters? of all my friends, i only know one or two who makes me laugh. and most definitely, not female. aren't women funny? is that why most stand-up comedians, and clowns for that matter, are men? maybe men are natural born jokers. ha. did you see that? even literally, my laughter has been reduced to a single 'ha' instead of the usual 'ha-ha'. life is pathetic. i need a dose of laughter medicine.
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
model life
he pushes the seat back and lies down for a nap in the van, in the luxury of a fully air-conditioned surrounding, whilst he waits for me. other times, he sits in there, away from the hot scalding sun, and pours over his newspaper. one newspaper lasts him the whole day for his reading pleasure. he reads them from cover to cover. why not? he has all the time in the world. bored, he will alight and seek out his nearby acquaintance for a chat or some small talk. all the drivers in the world are part of a secret society, they seem to know each other. if they don't, no problem, they'll know each other in a matter of few seconds.
lunch is several hours long when the boss doesn't require his service, which usually she doesn't. work is over at 4 when the last job of the day is done. sometimes, work entails driving here and there, delivering this and that. it's all still very light-weight stuff. no pressure, no competition, no office politics, no complications. pay may not be high, but it's enough to live by. not enough for that month? just come in for a few more hours for more chat with friends, and more hanging around. sick, just take the day off. not feeling like coming for work, just take another day off.
meanwhile, i'm slaving away in front of the computer and desk night and day. i'm beating deadlines, i'm rushing to get more stuffs done. sick or healthy, i still have to deliver. can't let a little thing like that baby who is kicking and pushing to get out from the stomach stop me from meeting deadlines. i work till my back is sore and my shoulder tight.
sometimes i wonder, who has got it good? whose lifestyle should be striving for? more work, more money? why do we need so much money anyway? to put our kids through a good university, yes i forgot. but do we need so much more than that? we work so hard so that we have more money, so that we can then live an easy life. which he is already doing. sometimes you get so caught up that you just can't stop, you can't unwind. knowing how to be contented is a difficult art. just when you think you know, then you stop and think, is your life really better than his?
lunch is several hours long when the boss doesn't require his service, which usually she doesn't. work is over at 4 when the last job of the day is done. sometimes, work entails driving here and there, delivering this and that. it's all still very light-weight stuff. no pressure, no competition, no office politics, no complications. pay may not be high, but it's enough to live by. not enough for that month? just come in for a few more hours for more chat with friends, and more hanging around. sick, just take the day off. not feeling like coming for work, just take another day off.
meanwhile, i'm slaving away in front of the computer and desk night and day. i'm beating deadlines, i'm rushing to get more stuffs done. sick or healthy, i still have to deliver. can't let a little thing like that baby who is kicking and pushing to get out from the stomach stop me from meeting deadlines. i work till my back is sore and my shoulder tight.
sometimes i wonder, who has got it good? whose lifestyle should be striving for? more work, more money? why do we need so much money anyway? to put our kids through a good university, yes i forgot. but do we need so much more than that? we work so hard so that we have more money, so that we can then live an easy life. which he is already doing. sometimes you get so caught up that you just can't stop, you can't unwind. knowing how to be contented is a difficult art. just when you think you know, then you stop and think, is your life really better than his?
Friday, October 30, 2009
music in my life
a friend used to wonder, why is my choice of listening pleasure stuck in the 80s? reminiscing is fine but you should move on, you should listen to all the new songs out there, i was told. i feel like an old grandma knitting away in her rocking chair whilst the gramophone is playing nearby. i do listen to new music, whatever is playing on the radio but more often than not, i find myself switching to 105.7, the music for oldies. this is not where you insert your tease of my age, so please do resist.
i have been ruminating, why is it that i love the music of the 80s so much? is it as my friend said, it brings us back to our lives back then, simpler, easier, and looking back, always rosier? does it raise some memories from way back then, some beautiful frozen picture panels of our lives? a certain song attaching itself to a certain specific part of the past, like the first slow dance, the first kiss, the first date.
for me, it's nothing like that. when i was listening to music way back then, i was listening to music. not engaging in any other activities that would have brought back sweet memories. if i were to close my eyes when the radio played my favourite song, i can see in my mind's eye the me that was so long ago, sitting by myself in the room as the music played. is it just my infamous lousy memory or is it just a very lonely past, i don't have many memories that are associated to songs. some, but not many. the first time i slow danced with a boy - whom i didn't even have any romantic feelings for, i can't remember what was playing in the background. the second time, many many many years later - with another boy whom i bordered on dislike, i still paid no attention to the music. perhaps it was the companion, perhaps it was the ambience. it was neither romantic, nor worth remembering. all i remember is silence. are my memories mute? in which case, is it in colour? i can't remember the colours either. strange.
despite the lack of attachments of memories to the music, i am strangely attached to the music. for a while i didn't understand why. now i do. i like the music for its familiarity. for being a part of what i was, what i am now and what i will always be. for being a part of my past, my present and my future. that i find is the rarest of thing in this world that changes in the speed of light. friends that you cannot hold on to through the test of time. things that constantly innovate and update before you can even familiarise. life perpetually changing at a heady pace, before you can stand still for a moment and immerse in its warm embrace, the only constant thing being change.
i like the music of my past because it is the one thing that will always be there, the one part of my life that will not change and will be there when i need its familiar comfort. when the words in the air mirrors that which pass my mouth without even making a conscious effort to remember , it is like an old friend.
i have been ruminating, why is it that i love the music of the 80s so much? is it as my friend said, it brings us back to our lives back then, simpler, easier, and looking back, always rosier? does it raise some memories from way back then, some beautiful frozen picture panels of our lives? a certain song attaching itself to a certain specific part of the past, like the first slow dance, the first kiss, the first date.
for me, it's nothing like that. when i was listening to music way back then, i was listening to music. not engaging in any other activities that would have brought back sweet memories. if i were to close my eyes when the radio played my favourite song, i can see in my mind's eye the me that was so long ago, sitting by myself in the room as the music played. is it just my infamous lousy memory or is it just a very lonely past, i don't have many memories that are associated to songs. some, but not many. the first time i slow danced with a boy - whom i didn't even have any romantic feelings for, i can't remember what was playing in the background. the second time, many many many years later - with another boy whom i bordered on dislike, i still paid no attention to the music. perhaps it was the companion, perhaps it was the ambience. it was neither romantic, nor worth remembering. all i remember is silence. are my memories mute? in which case, is it in colour? i can't remember the colours either. strange.
despite the lack of attachments of memories to the music, i am strangely attached to the music. for a while i didn't understand why. now i do. i like the music for its familiarity. for being a part of what i was, what i am now and what i will always be. for being a part of my past, my present and my future. that i find is the rarest of thing in this world that changes in the speed of light. friends that you cannot hold on to through the test of time. things that constantly innovate and update before you can even familiarise. life perpetually changing at a heady pace, before you can stand still for a moment and immerse in its warm embrace, the only constant thing being change.
i like the music of my past because it is the one thing that will always be there, the one part of my life that will not change and will be there when i need its familiar comfort. when the words in the air mirrors that which pass my mouth without even making a conscious effort to remember , it is like an old friend.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
facebook friends
today i sent a request for friendship in facebook out to an old friend. a friend who broke my heart a very long time ago. a friend that i have not spoken to for so many years. it's sad how moths are drawn to the flame even though it risks being burnt. experience should have taught me to stay away. people don't grow a heart overnight, i know, i understand. i think i know. eyes wide shut. why did i sent out that request? because i still care. i still want to know that he is living his life well. or i am curious. to know if he is as impervious to the loss of our friendship as i imagined him to be. and he is. that is the sad simple truth. not everybody values you like the way you value them. not all memories of the past are equal. he is living well, at least i am happy to note. and i am slowly learning to let it go. to accept. that even though i thought he was a very good friend, i was nothing more to him than an ordinary one. to me, we went through a lot. i remember the days lounging in his room, the mid autumn festival, the visit to aberdeen, the necklace, the birthday gifts, the letters, the school holidays, the car crashes, the waterfall, the bond. i am amazed i remember so much.
at least i still have memories. and to me, it was special. even though our friendship no longer is.
at least i still have memories. and to me, it was special. even though our friendship no longer is.
Thursday, October 08, 2009
this is how a modern woman does it
today, this little housewife (why housewife? i'm not married to a house! ask any woman and you'll realise that none of us like to be called a housewife) was sent out on a mission. to look for something that the chinese call sang yee. sang yee? live fish, literally translated? don't think anybody will entertain me if i go around asking for that. all my fishes are live, missy, i'll have you know that!!, and off i'll be swatted with some smelly broom.
ahhhhh, but this little missy is no ordinary run-of-the-mill man-wife (that term is more appropriate perhaps ?). i'm a technologically advanced, modern, a-million-task-to-juggle woman and therefore, to google i turn. sang yee, or what is known locally as ikan haruan or snakehead fish. people in the know will understand that this fish is not commonly available in all markets. people will tell you that you can find it here and there, but you will most likely be knocking down empty doors because supply is usually erratic.
despite that, this is perhaps where other man-wives dash off to the local markets to hunt down this temperamental specie; temperamental because it can never be found when you want it but in abundance when you don't need it. i, on the other hand, continue googling. if my paternal grandmother was still around to see me, she would have probably given out a loud sigh and a sad shake of the head. ask that one to go pasar, and she sits her bum down infront of the computer, typing typing typing. play computer also can buy fish one meh?
i googled the local hypermarkets, which i know sometimes carry them. i called the biggest branch to confirm that they do indeed have stock. ikan haruan, oh yes, we do have. and off, superwoman dashed off to the nearest hypermarket to hunt down the fish. triumph? sigh, not quite still.
sometimes the human factor defeats all advancement in technology. the person who picked up the phone informed me correctly that they do indeed carry the snakehead fish, but she did not mention how many. one miserable one. i went all the way there for one miserable fish, which fortunately was still swimming when i got there, unlike its other fishy friends.
after paying for my purchase, i made my way to another supermarket. on the way there, i called them up to make sure they have stock. oh yes, we have ikan haruan, the lady who answered the phone said. zoooommmmm! they have my foot! upon enquiry at their seafood section, they have zilch. and that is not another name for the snakehead fish. i called the lady up again.
you told me there is snakehead fish here, but i am here now and there is no snakehead fish!
oh, after that, i asked and they told me they didn't bring it in today, she said.
?! (*@&@#^^@*)
and i gave her an earful. again, all advancement in technology is useless in the face of irresponsible, unreliable, inefficient human. i should have known when she answered the phone in that listless, bored voice of hers. a disinterested voice speaks volume, remember this advice well my fellow readers.
left with no choice, i made my way to another supermarket. this morning was turning out to be an expedition to supermarkets. can i apply for a job as one of those undercover people who rates supermarket service? i had to call another three supermarkets before i could find one that have stock of the fish. one lady who answered in the other supermarket actually made an effort to check with her colleague before confirming that their supply of the fish has not arrived, saving me a trip there. this is what service should be all about, not just shooting off straight from the mouth without confirming the truth. all too often, we get that here, people giving information without the need to verify its authenticity, without a thought of how it would inconvenience or be detrimental to others, without the need to be responsible for what they spew forth. and much too often, others start rumours just because they can, telling people what they THINK and treating it as FACTS. wars have been started just because of this culture of irresponsibility and apathy.
so, ends this story of how a modern woman does her marketing, with the application of technologically advanced tools and less dirty work. stay tune for the next time the man-wife is given another household task, and she attempts to include the advancement of scientific knowledge in its application.
ahhhhh, but this little missy is no ordinary run-of-the-mill man-wife (that term is more appropriate perhaps ?). i'm a technologically advanced, modern, a-million-task-to-juggle woman and therefore, to google i turn. sang yee, or what is known locally as ikan haruan or snakehead fish. people in the know will understand that this fish is not commonly available in all markets. people will tell you that you can find it here and there, but you will most likely be knocking down empty doors because supply is usually erratic.
despite that, this is perhaps where other man-wives dash off to the local markets to hunt down this temperamental specie; temperamental because it can never be found when you want it but in abundance when you don't need it. i, on the other hand, continue googling. if my paternal grandmother was still around to see me, she would have probably given out a loud sigh and a sad shake of the head. ask that one to go pasar, and she sits her bum down infront of the computer, typing typing typing. play computer also can buy fish one meh?
i googled the local hypermarkets, which i know sometimes carry them. i called the biggest branch to confirm that they do indeed have stock. ikan haruan, oh yes, we do have. and off, superwoman dashed off to the nearest hypermarket to hunt down the fish. triumph? sigh, not quite still.
sometimes the human factor defeats all advancement in technology. the person who picked up the phone informed me correctly that they do indeed carry the snakehead fish, but she did not mention how many. one miserable one. i went all the way there for one miserable fish, which fortunately was still swimming when i got there, unlike its other fishy friends.
after paying for my purchase, i made my way to another supermarket. on the way there, i called them up to make sure they have stock. oh yes, we have ikan haruan, the lady who answered the phone said. zoooommmmm! they have my foot! upon enquiry at their seafood section, they have zilch. and that is not another name for the snakehead fish. i called the lady up again.
you told me there is snakehead fish here, but i am here now and there is no snakehead fish!
oh, after that, i asked and they told me they didn't bring it in today, she said.
?! (*@&@#^^@*)
and i gave her an earful. again, all advancement in technology is useless in the face of irresponsible, unreliable, inefficient human. i should have known when she answered the phone in that listless, bored voice of hers. a disinterested voice speaks volume, remember this advice well my fellow readers.
left with no choice, i made my way to another supermarket. this morning was turning out to be an expedition to supermarkets. can i apply for a job as one of those undercover people who rates supermarket service? i had to call another three supermarkets before i could find one that have stock of the fish. one lady who answered in the other supermarket actually made an effort to check with her colleague before confirming that their supply of the fish has not arrived, saving me a trip there. this is what service should be all about, not just shooting off straight from the mouth without confirming the truth. all too often, we get that here, people giving information without the need to verify its authenticity, without a thought of how it would inconvenience or be detrimental to others, without the need to be responsible for what they spew forth. and much too often, others start rumours just because they can, telling people what they THINK and treating it as FACTS. wars have been started just because of this culture of irresponsibility and apathy.
so, ends this story of how a modern woman does her marketing, with the application of technologically advanced tools and less dirty work. stay tune for the next time the man-wife is given another household task, and she attempts to include the advancement of scientific knowledge in its application.
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
she said, he heard
was having dinner the other night and the family was engaged in a discussion about when the cook shall have his holiday. when both of you go on your next trip, i replied. it's very simple for us when you are not around, we can cook at home or just eat out. to which he replied, 'do you mean that it is very difficult when we are around?'.
faint.
men also have pms? or hormonal mood disorders? sometimes people think too much, misinterpret something straightforward into something complicated, with some other underlying connotation.
sigh.
i sweetly answered, 'no. when you are around, we come back to have dinner with you'.
faint.
men also have pms? or hormonal mood disorders? sometimes people think too much, misinterpret something straightforward into something complicated, with some other underlying connotation.
sigh.
i sweetly answered, 'no. when you are around, we come back to have dinner with you'.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
poor excuse for a man
kudos to my uncle! for having the inept talent of making all other male specie look good. if you think your boyfriend or spouse sucks, just list his faults and compare them with our man of the day. anyone, and i mean, anyone, with a decent heart that is, will be considered top ranks.
his wife, who has slaved, toiled and laboured for the last 30 to 40 years for him, giving him 6 beautiful children who are now all grown up and independent, who looked after his business whilst he was out gallivanting, has taken a fall and broken her hand. on seeing that her visit to the nearest hospital had actually worsen her condition, the wonderful man drove her up to the city the next day, admitted her into the hospital, and returned back to the hometown, not even waiting to see her through surgery or at the very least, through the night. apparently satisfied that she will be looked after by her children, he promptly abandoned her in her hour of need. sigh. is she suppose to be grateful that he at the very least drove her to the city to seek for further medical assistance? the worst case scenario being he throw some dollar notes her way and ask her to take a bus up herself? *rolls eyes* i really hope that no such being exist who will go to such extreme behaviour.
why do people like that exist? and why do people like her exist? how can she tolerate so much? she is an even more classic story than ah sun. all that is missing is the visual image of her squatting on the floor and running from one side of the room to the other with a mop cloth in her hands. or maybe she really does that everyday at home. i wouldn't know.
anyway, here is a woman who gives too much of herself. and here is a man who takes takes and takes without a decent conscience in his bones. perhaps a match made in heaven for i believe no other soul in this world will be able to tolerate that idiocy of a man. customers who walk into their shop advises her not to climb so high, to which the man retorts, 'die already never mind. change another one.'
i think that says it all.
his wife, who has slaved, toiled and laboured for the last 30 to 40 years for him, giving him 6 beautiful children who are now all grown up and independent, who looked after his business whilst he was out gallivanting, has taken a fall and broken her hand. on seeing that her visit to the nearest hospital had actually worsen her condition, the wonderful man drove her up to the city the next day, admitted her into the hospital, and returned back to the hometown, not even waiting to see her through surgery or at the very least, through the night. apparently satisfied that she will be looked after by her children, he promptly abandoned her in her hour of need. sigh. is she suppose to be grateful that he at the very least drove her to the city to seek for further medical assistance? the worst case scenario being he throw some dollar notes her way and ask her to take a bus up herself? *rolls eyes* i really hope that no such being exist who will go to such extreme behaviour.
why do people like that exist? and why do people like her exist? how can she tolerate so much? she is an even more classic story than ah sun. all that is missing is the visual image of her squatting on the floor and running from one side of the room to the other with a mop cloth in her hands. or maybe she really does that everyday at home. i wouldn't know.
anyway, here is a woman who gives too much of herself. and here is a man who takes takes and takes without a decent conscience in his bones. perhaps a match made in heaven for i believe no other soul in this world will be able to tolerate that idiocy of a man. customers who walk into their shop advises her not to climb so high, to which the man retorts, 'die already never mind. change another one.'
i think that says it all.
Monday, October 05, 2009
love, if not now, then when?
kudos to unnamed man in today's post! for having the inept talent of making all other male specie look good. if you think your boyfriend or spouse sucks, just list his faults and compare them with our man of the day. anyone, and i mean, anyone, with a decent heart that is, will be considered top ranks.
his wife, who has slaved, toiled and laboured for the last 30 to 40 years for him, giving him many beautiful children who are now all grown up and independent, who looked after his business whilst he was out gallivanting, has taken a fall and broken her hand. on seeing that her visit to the nearest hospital had actually worsen her condition, the wonderful man drove her up to the city the next day, admitted her into the hospital, and returned back to the hometown, not even waiting to see her through surgery or at the very least, through the night. apparently satisfied that she will be looked after by her children, he promptly abandoned her in her hour of need. sigh. is she suppose to be grateful that he at the very least drove her to the city to seek for further medical assistance? the worst case scenario being he throw some dollar notes her way and ask her to take a bus up herself? *rolls eyes* i really hope that no such being exist who will go to such extreme behaviour.
why do people like that exist? and why do people like her exist? how can she tolerate so much? she is an even more classic story than ah sun. all that is missing is the visual image of her squatting on the floor and running from one side of the room to the other with a mop cloth in her hands. or maybe she really does that everyday at home. i wouldn't know.
anyway, here is a woman who gives too much of herself. and here is a man who takes takes and takes without a decent conscience in his bones. perhaps a match made in heaven for i believe no other soul in this world will be able to tolerate that idiocy of a man. customers who walk into their shop advises her not to climb so high, to which the man retorts, 'die already never mind. change another one.'
i think that says it all.
his wife, who has slaved, toiled and laboured for the last 30 to 40 years for him, giving him many beautiful children who are now all grown up and independent, who looked after his business whilst he was out gallivanting, has taken a fall and broken her hand. on seeing that her visit to the nearest hospital had actually worsen her condition, the wonderful man drove her up to the city the next day, admitted her into the hospital, and returned back to the hometown, not even waiting to see her through surgery or at the very least, through the night. apparently satisfied that she will be looked after by her children, he promptly abandoned her in her hour of need. sigh. is she suppose to be grateful that he at the very least drove her to the city to seek for further medical assistance? the worst case scenario being he throw some dollar notes her way and ask her to take a bus up herself? *rolls eyes* i really hope that no such being exist who will go to such extreme behaviour.
why do people like that exist? and why do people like her exist? how can she tolerate so much? she is an even more classic story than ah sun. all that is missing is the visual image of her squatting on the floor and running from one side of the room to the other with a mop cloth in her hands. or maybe she really does that everyday at home. i wouldn't know.
anyway, here is a woman who gives too much of herself. and here is a man who takes takes and takes without a decent conscience in his bones. perhaps a match made in heaven for i believe no other soul in this world will be able to tolerate that idiocy of a man. customers who walk into their shop advises her not to climb so high, to which the man retorts, 'die already never mind. change another one.'
i think that says it all.
Saturday, October 03, 2009
drama unfolding
a new drama is unfolding in the household. a new series involving the chef and the house manager. she is caught in the middle of the throes of passion by the maids. they glimpsed a very naked her running in the dark room and waited by the staircase until she emerged from the room. house manager was very angry, to say the least. what are you all doing here?! to spy on you; that definitely won't be the obvious answer. to catch you redhanded, only if any of them wanted to die at the very immediate moment. she was only rubbing oil for the chef, spew forth the excuse. so lame. so very lame.
others held their tongue. one, the one who witnessed it first, couldn't hold it in, knowing that revenge was imminent. she tattle-taled to the highest level of authority that she could access. the boss was informed. but yet no action was taken? there is always wisdom in waiting and seeing.
many months later, another maid tattle-taled. it seems that she didn't do the necessary sucking up and pleasing to keep their mouth shut. they are still very displeased with how they are being treated. you can actually tell, who she has treated especially bad by seeing who walks to the front to tattle-tale. you wonder. those that keep quiet, is it because they are being treated better, or they are so much more of an expert political maneuverist, holding in details and only divulging when it is to their favour. i certainly hope i am reading too much into it.
still no response from the powers that be? they must be really dense. ha! then came the text messages. one to the boss. one to the second lady of the house. why not to me? i also wonder. someone seems very keen for action to be taken against the two leading actor and actress of the drama.
what will happen next? will they be relieved of their jobs? both or either? we will have to catch the next episode to see how the drama continues.
others held their tongue. one, the one who witnessed it first, couldn't hold it in, knowing that revenge was imminent. she tattle-taled to the highest level of authority that she could access. the boss was informed. but yet no action was taken? there is always wisdom in waiting and seeing.
many months later, another maid tattle-taled. it seems that she didn't do the necessary sucking up and pleasing to keep their mouth shut. they are still very displeased with how they are being treated. you can actually tell, who she has treated especially bad by seeing who walks to the front to tattle-tale. you wonder. those that keep quiet, is it because they are being treated better, or they are so much more of an expert political maneuverist, holding in details and only divulging when it is to their favour. i certainly hope i am reading too much into it.
still no response from the powers that be? they must be really dense. ha! then came the text messages. one to the boss. one to the second lady of the house. why not to me? i also wonder. someone seems very keen for action to be taken against the two leading actor and actress of the drama.
what will happen next? will they be relieved of their jobs? both or either? we will have to catch the next episode to see how the drama continues.
Friday, October 02, 2009
no more hellos?
he asked, how come mr. x never greets me in the office anymore? eventhough he greets everyone else and most certainly those directly related to the boss. it seems, he has become invisible. which is strange, because he is never one to step on anyone else's shoes, nor one for rough words or loud voice. always polite to others, it dawned on him suddenly that mr. x seems to have ceased acknowledging his existence.
is it shallowness? he is still related to the boss, so it seems illogical. or was mr. x offended by him because of some work issues. but perhaps in ways that even he is not made aware of. maybe mr. x is stuck with some shares that he cannot sell because of him? sometimes our work is not who we are but is what others see of us and who they imagine we become.
is it shallowness? he is still related to the boss, so it seems illogical. or was mr. x offended by him because of some work issues. but perhaps in ways that even he is not made aware of. maybe mr. x is stuck with some shares that he cannot sell because of him? sometimes our work is not who we are but is what others see of us and who they imagine we become.
Thursday, October 01, 2009
drama unfolding
a new drama is unfolding in the household. a new series involving the chef and the house manager. she is caught in the middle of the throes of passion by the maids. they glimpsed a very naked her running in the dark room and waited by the staircase until she emerged from the room. she was very angry, to say the least. what are you all doing here?! to spy on you; that definitely was not the answer spoken. to catch you redhanded, only if any of them wanted to die at the very immediate moment. she was only rubbing oil for the chef, spew forth the excuse. so lame. so very lame.
others held their tongue. one, the one who witnessed it first, couldn't hold it in, knowing that revenge was imminent. she tattle-taled to the highest level of authority that she could access. the boss was informed. but yet no action was taken? there is always wisdom in waiting and seeing.
many months later, another maid tattle-taled. it seems that she didn't do the necessary sucking up and pleasing to keep their mouth shut. they are still very displeased with how they are being treated. you can actually tell, who she has treated especially bad by seeing who walks to the front to tattle-tale. you wonder. those that keep quiet, is it because they are being treated better, or they are so much more of an expert political maneuverist, holding in details and only divulging when it is to their favour. i certainly hope i am reading too much into it.
still no response from the powers that be? they must be really dense. ha! then came the text messages. one to the boss. one to the second lady of the house. why not to me? i also wonder. someone seems very keen for action to be taken against the two leading actor and actress of the drama.
what will happen next? will they be relieved of their jobs? both or either? we will have to catch the next episode to see how the drama continues.
others held their tongue. one, the one who witnessed it first, couldn't hold it in, knowing that revenge was imminent. she tattle-taled to the highest level of authority that she could access. the boss was informed. but yet no action was taken? there is always wisdom in waiting and seeing.
many months later, another maid tattle-taled. it seems that she didn't do the necessary sucking up and pleasing to keep their mouth shut. they are still very displeased with how they are being treated. you can actually tell, who she has treated especially bad by seeing who walks to the front to tattle-tale. you wonder. those that keep quiet, is it because they are being treated better, or they are so much more of an expert political maneuverist, holding in details and only divulging when it is to their favour. i certainly hope i am reading too much into it.
still no response from the powers that be? they must be really dense. ha! then came the text messages. one to the boss. one to the second lady of the house. why not to me? i also wonder. someone seems very keen for action to be taken against the two leading actor and actress of the drama.
what will happen next? will they be relieved of their jobs? both or either? we will have to catch the next episode to see how the drama continues.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
politically correct answer
after many months of just living next door to him, i finally bumped into tan sri in the lift on the way home, despite our very best effort to go for an earlier lift, but fate will have it that no lift was available until yang bahagia decided to join us. even lifts bow to the politically connected. sigh.
tan sri's bodyguard pressed the floor whilst the rest of us just stood quietly by. after what seemed like the longest time, it finally dawned on him that we didn't press any other floor. that's when it dawned on him. or that's when he started panicking and wonder if we have other hidden agendas. :-p slowly he turned to me and asked, "do you live in the same floor?". cheekily, i was waiting for that, and i replied, "we are your very noisy neighbours". that was a discreet apology for all those early morning door-bangings and children screaming across the hallway. tan sri said, "not so noisy". i turned to my daughter and said, "luckily, not so noisy".
when we enter into the safety of our home, it was all we could do not to burst into laughters on the floor. not so noisy. perhaps meaning that we are noisy indeed but still bearable. people in politics. always with the politically correct answer. *grins*
tan sri's bodyguard pressed the floor whilst the rest of us just stood quietly by. after what seemed like the longest time, it finally dawned on him that we didn't press any other floor. that's when it dawned on him. or that's when he started panicking and wonder if we have other hidden agendas. :-p slowly he turned to me and asked, "do you live in the same floor?". cheekily, i was waiting for that, and i replied, "we are your very noisy neighbours". that was a discreet apology for all those early morning door-bangings and children screaming across the hallway. tan sri said, "not so noisy". i turned to my daughter and said, "luckily, not so noisy".
when we enter into the safety of our home, it was all we could do not to burst into laughters on the floor. not so noisy. perhaps meaning that we are noisy indeed but still bearable. people in politics. always with the politically correct answer. *grins*
Sunday, September 27, 2009
the land of the rising sun
came back from 6 days in the land of the rising sun, the first time that we ventured on our own in that country. there had always been an invisible wall holding us back from going it alone; perhaps it was the language barrier and the intimidating culture. what may seem like natural to us may be taboo to the tradition-filled country. however, what we needed and craved for this time around was some space, a slow-down in pace and a little breathing creche. the relatively safe country with wonderful food and organised transportation was just our ticket for a break.
it was a refreshing change, from the hurried pace of tour itinenaries, the get-down-shoot-go-back-to-the-bus style of group vacations. after so many times of visiting japan, this was the first that we had a more realistic and down-to-earth interaction with the local people. their culture, their people, their tradition emphasises heavily on outward appearance. consumer products are beautifully packaged for marketing, their youth dressed stylishly, even at the price of wearing hot sweaty boots in the dead of a hot spring day and high feet-crunching heels in a vast universal studio theme park. their manners abundant in the face of interaction with others. no one passes another in the hallway without at the very least a greeting for a good day. enter a restaurant, and staffs will be shouting long almost melodious lines of welcome at you, eventhough you cannot catch even one single word of what was uttered. for all i know, they could be saying, 'what? one more customer? we are busy as hell. please come back later'. well, still, they are saying it in a very nice and welcoming manner. women bow to their men when they get the bill for food, salespeople come over the counter to personally deliver your purchase to you and some even walk you to the door. i have yet to see a black sulking face in the land of the arigatos.
looking at the facade of what appears to be a common dwelling, they do not strive to be outlandish or different. they do not hang decorations or what-have-yous in the door of their house so that they will be able to tell their door apart from their neighbours during their drunken stupor. the evil character in ali baba story will have a hard time telling apart whose door is whose door. they are exactly the same. they do not strive to be different, instead they try their best to conform. perhaps when the door is opened, when one walks inside their houses can we see where they express their uniqueness. i did not have such an opportunity this time around but i can remember very vaguely when i did umpteenth years ago. the house that i visited did not appear to be any different from those i have seen in japanese movies. how, i wonder then, do they attempt to express their distinctness?
i love all japanese food, perhaps not so much their sickeningly sweet worcestershire sauce, which can be found on all things ranging from okonomiyaki to takoyaki but after 6 days of ramen, udon, katsu curry and not much else, i am a little tired of it all. perhaps the problem lies in that we do not recognise any other food than that which we already often have. we do not know how to order their more homely normal food. their japanese menus are nothing more than bean sprout wordings to me, and so we always end up ordering what we know, which in this foreign country, isn't much.
still, i like japan. a country that keeps its very best for themselves. a country that appear to be safe and transportation reliable. a country that show their very good side to strangers and is at the very least very polite. but to stay there for an extended period of time, it seems to be a little tiring. i wouldn't say malaysia is best, not even close but japan is a country that is most wonderful - for vacation.
it was a refreshing change, from the hurried pace of tour itinenaries, the get-down-shoot-go-back-to-the-bus style of group vacations. after so many times of visiting japan, this was the first that we had a more realistic and down-to-earth interaction with the local people. their culture, their people, their tradition emphasises heavily on outward appearance. consumer products are beautifully packaged for marketing, their youth dressed stylishly, even at the price of wearing hot sweaty boots in the dead of a hot spring day and high feet-crunching heels in a vast universal studio theme park. their manners abundant in the face of interaction with others. no one passes another in the hallway without at the very least a greeting for a good day. enter a restaurant, and staffs will be shouting long almost melodious lines of welcome at you, eventhough you cannot catch even one single word of what was uttered. for all i know, they could be saying, 'what? one more customer? we are busy as hell. please come back later'. well, still, they are saying it in a very nice and welcoming manner. women bow to their men when they get the bill for food, salespeople come over the counter to personally deliver your purchase to you and some even walk you to the door. i have yet to see a black sulking face in the land of the arigatos.
looking at the facade of what appears to be a common dwelling, they do not strive to be outlandish or different. they do not hang decorations or what-have-yous in the door of their house so that they will be able to tell their door apart from their neighbours during their drunken stupor. the evil character in ali baba story will have a hard time telling apart whose door is whose door. they are exactly the same. they do not strive to be different, instead they try their best to conform. perhaps when the door is opened, when one walks inside their houses can we see where they express their uniqueness. i did not have such an opportunity this time around but i can remember very vaguely when i did umpteenth years ago. the house that i visited did not appear to be any different from those i have seen in japanese movies. how, i wonder then, do they attempt to express their distinctness?
i love all japanese food, perhaps not so much their sickeningly sweet worcestershire sauce, which can be found on all things ranging from okonomiyaki to takoyaki but after 6 days of ramen, udon, katsu curry and not much else, i am a little tired of it all. perhaps the problem lies in that we do not recognise any other food than that which we already often have. we do not know how to order their more homely normal food. their japanese menus are nothing more than bean sprout wordings to me, and so we always end up ordering what we know, which in this foreign country, isn't much.
still, i like japan. a country that keeps its very best for themselves. a country that appear to be safe and transportation reliable. a country that show their very good side to strangers and is at the very least very polite. but to stay there for an extended period of time, it seems to be a little tiring. i wouldn't say malaysia is best, not even close but japan is a country that is most wonderful - for vacation.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
politically correct
after many months of just living next door to him, i finally bumped into tan sri in the lift on the way home, despite our very best effort to go for an earlier lift, but fate will have it that no lift was available until yang bahagia decided to join us. even lifts bow to the politically connected. sigh.
tan sri's bodyguard pressed the floor whilst the rest of us just stood quietly by. after what seemed like the longest time, it finally dawned on him that we didn't press any other floor. that's when it dawned on him. or that's when he started panicking and wonder if we have other hidden agendas. :-p slowly he turned to me and asked, "do you live on the same floor?". cheekily, i was waiting for that, and i replied, "we are your very noisy neighbours". that was a discreet apology for all those early morning door-bangings and children screaming across the hallway. tan sri said, "not so noisy". i turned to my daughter and said, "luckily, not so noisy".
when we enter into the safety of our home, it was all we could do not to burst into laughters and roll on the floor. not so noisy. perhaps meaning that we are noisy indeed but still bearable. people in politics. always with the politically correct answer. *grins*
tan sri's bodyguard pressed the floor whilst the rest of us just stood quietly by. after what seemed like the longest time, it finally dawned on him that we didn't press any other floor. that's when it dawned on him. or that's when he started panicking and wonder if we have other hidden agendas. :-p slowly he turned to me and asked, "do you live on the same floor?". cheekily, i was waiting for that, and i replied, "we are your very noisy neighbours". that was a discreet apology for all those early morning door-bangings and children screaming across the hallway. tan sri said, "not so noisy". i turned to my daughter and said, "luckily, not so noisy".
when we enter into the safety of our home, it was all we could do not to burst into laughters and roll on the floor. not so noisy. perhaps meaning that we are noisy indeed but still bearable. people in politics. always with the politically correct answer. *grins*
Saturday, September 19, 2009
a complicated life we live in
sometimes, i don't get the world.
young master came home one day after school and went straight to my room. his mother wasn't home from work. he needs a batch of cookies for school tomorrow, the home-made type and not those straight from boxes. it was a tad inconvenient perhaps, being the eleventh hour and all but since i have all the necessary ingredients in the fridge, all i had to lose was time.
so, off we went, with all the ingredients piled high in our hands to the kitchen we were a-baking. i'm no professional baker and most attempts end up in failure. still, a batch of cookies i can whip up. edible or not, that is a different question altogether. halfway through the baking session, which he insisted he had to do by himself, i shooed him off for his tuiton and homework.
by dinner time, the mouth-watering aroma filled the kitchen. young master hasn't finished his marathon tuiton session. his mother, who has just returned from work, joined the rest of us at the dinner table. whilst i was still tending to the biscuits, lady of the house was telling the rest how inept i was at baking. hahaha, a fact which i do not deny nor am offended about. young master's mother was bewildered. why was i baking cookies for her son? how come she doesn't know anything about it? she completed dinner faster than you can say abracadabra, and stormed off in the direction of her son's room. nobody could find her. much much later, her son came down and looked moody. apparently his mother had threw a fit and told him never to ask for her help again.
sigh.
so dramatic.
which leaves me very confused. what was the big faux pas here? was he supposed to wait until his mother come back from work, which can sometimes be very late, or was he suppose to give her a call first to get her permission? her permission to seek help from others, a family member nonetheless. what should have been my politically correct response? was i supposed to have rejected her son's plea for help? i may be branded cold and heartless. was i suppose to give her a call first to check if it was alright? i am not one to call for attention to the kind and helpful side of me and to gloat for glory. to do or not to do? something that should have been so straightforward, something that should have been so simple. i really don't understand why things must be so complicated.
young master came home one day after school and went straight to my room. his mother wasn't home from work. he needs a batch of cookies for school tomorrow, the home-made type and not those straight from boxes. it was a tad inconvenient perhaps, being the eleventh hour and all but since i have all the necessary ingredients in the fridge, all i had to lose was time.
so, off we went, with all the ingredients piled high in our hands to the kitchen we were a-baking. i'm no professional baker and most attempts end up in failure. still, a batch of cookies i can whip up. edible or not, that is a different question altogether. halfway through the baking session, which he insisted he had to do by himself, i shooed him off for his tuiton and homework.
by dinner time, the mouth-watering aroma filled the kitchen. young master hasn't finished his marathon tuiton session. his mother, who has just returned from work, joined the rest of us at the dinner table. whilst i was still tending to the biscuits, lady of the house was telling the rest how inept i was at baking. hahaha, a fact which i do not deny nor am offended about. young master's mother was bewildered. why was i baking cookies for her son? how come she doesn't know anything about it? she completed dinner faster than you can say abracadabra, and stormed off in the direction of her son's room. nobody could find her. much much later, her son came down and looked moody. apparently his mother had threw a fit and told him never to ask for her help again.
sigh.
so dramatic.
which leaves me very confused. what was the big faux pas here? was he supposed to wait until his mother come back from work, which can sometimes be very late, or was he suppose to give her a call first to get her permission? her permission to seek help from others, a family member nonetheless. what should have been my politically correct response? was i supposed to have rejected her son's plea for help? i may be branded cold and heartless. was i suppose to give her a call first to check if it was alright? i am not one to call for attention to the kind and helpful side of me and to gloat for glory. to do or not to do? something that should have been so straightforward, something that should have been so simple. i really don't understand why things must be so complicated.
Friday, September 18, 2009
getting on with 38
birthday this year started out on a sour note. sometimes it's better when some people remain complacent and immobile about the day rather than tinge it with their insincerity. i wouldn't mind so much if people forgot about it so much as they expect me to take an active participation in organising the day.
it was a good day nonetheless. had a wonderful lunch with friends, laughing and joking. that's what i think the best birthdays are all about; good friends, laughter and good food. and in the evening, a few glasses of white to wash down the teppanyaki dinner. ahhhhhhh, what else is there to ask for?
it was a good day nonetheless. had a wonderful lunch with friends, laughing and joking. that's what i think the best birthdays are all about; good friends, laughter and good food. and in the evening, a few glasses of white to wash down the teppanyaki dinner. ahhhhhhh, what else is there to ask for?
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
explosion imminent
when your stomach is so full, to the brink of explosion, it severely affects your work performance. hence all those correction tape marks in my work today, boss. honest. nothing to do with my skill or professionalism. you eat too much, leads to your stomach being so uncomfortable, leads to difficulty in concentration with your belly in the way, leads also to sleepiness when the digestion sets in, which finally leads to all types of mistake in your work. *yawn* see? it's not my fault. it's my friend's. for buying me such a wonderful lunch.
haha. how ungrateful. there goes my free lunch from now on. :-p
haha. how ungrateful. there goes my free lunch from now on. :-p
Monday, September 14, 2009
celebratory
an ex-boyfriend offered to buy me lunch in celebration of my birthday.
i don't know what to say to that; i sit here, fingers hovering over the keyboard, not knowing what to type next. inappropriate? i feel not. he is like any other friend now, why can't he offer to buy me lunch? it is harmless at best; it is only treading on dangerous waters if there is even an inkling of anything more. everything that was in the past is in the past. i can't even remember the details of our relationship anymore, be it significant or immaterial. it's like a slate wiped clean. i don't know how i do it, erase everything with such finality and entirety. did i ever like him? how did i like him? i cannot remember. i look into my heart, there is nothing there except a vacant echoing nook.
when i enter into a relationship, i jump in with both feet, totally devoted, totally commited. when things don't work and it ends, i walk out and close that chapter of my life, not looking back, never looking back. i ask myself sometimes, who is he to me but the picture looking back at me is no longer attractive, no more calling my name, like a distant stranger. how i can remove myself with such detachment, i do not know.
sounds cold perhaps. but it feels good. to keep my life so pure and simple.
so, did i accept his invitation? i told him that his intentions are good enough and received, thank you very much.
life should be kept simple. if not for me, then for my partner's peace of mind, eventhough some may argue that he has more faith in me than that, it is the little that i can do for him. what would lunch with a friend bring for me? a gladness that someone remembers. and i already have that.
i don't know what to say to that; i sit here, fingers hovering over the keyboard, not knowing what to type next. inappropriate? i feel not. he is like any other friend now, why can't he offer to buy me lunch? it is harmless at best; it is only treading on dangerous waters if there is even an inkling of anything more. everything that was in the past is in the past. i can't even remember the details of our relationship anymore, be it significant or immaterial. it's like a slate wiped clean. i don't know how i do it, erase everything with such finality and entirety. did i ever like him? how did i like him? i cannot remember. i look into my heart, there is nothing there except a vacant echoing nook.
when i enter into a relationship, i jump in with both feet, totally devoted, totally commited. when things don't work and it ends, i walk out and close that chapter of my life, not looking back, never looking back. i ask myself sometimes, who is he to me but the picture looking back at me is no longer attractive, no more calling my name, like a distant stranger. how i can remove myself with such detachment, i do not know.
sounds cold perhaps. but it feels good. to keep my life so pure and simple.
so, did i accept his invitation? i told him that his intentions are good enough and received, thank you very much.
life should be kept simple. if not for me, then for my partner's peace of mind, eventhough some may argue that he has more faith in me than that, it is the little that i can do for him. what would lunch with a friend bring for me? a gladness that someone remembers. and i already have that.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
the complicated web we weave
sometimes, i don't get the world.
young master came home one day after school and went straight to my room. his mother wasn't home from work. he needs a batch of cookies for school tomorrow, the home-made type and not those straight from boxes. it was a tad inconvenient perhaps, being the eleventh hour and all but since i have all the necessary ingredients in the fridge, all i had to lose was time.
so, off we went, with all the ingredients piled high in our hands to the kitchen we were a-baking. i'm no professional baker and most attempts end up in failure. still, a batch of cookies i can whip up. edible or not, that is a different question altogether. halfway through the baking session, which he insisted he had to do by himself, i shooed him off for his tuiton and homework.
by dinner time, the mouth-watering aroma filled the kitchen. young master hasn't finished his marathon tuiton session. his mother, who has just returned from work, joined the rest of us at the dinner table. whilst i was still tending to the biscuits, lady of the house was telling the rest how inept i was at baking. hahaha, a fact which i do not deny nor am offended about. young master's mother was bewildered. why was i baking cookies for her son? how come she doesn't know anything about it? she completed dinner faster than you can say abracadabra, and stormed off in the direction of her son's room. nobody could find her. much much later, her son came down and looked moody. apparently his mother had threw a fit and told him never to ask for her help again.
sigh.
so dramatic.
which leaves me very confused. what was the big faux pas here? was he supposed to wait until his mother come back from work, which can sometimes be very late, or was he suppose to give her a call first to get her permission? her permission to seek help from others, a family member nonetheless. what should have been my politically correct response? was i supposed to have rejected her son's plea for help? i may be branded cold and heartless. was i suppose to give her a call first to check if it was alright? i am not one to call for attention to the kind and helpful side of me and to gloat for glory. to do or not to do? something that should have been so straightforward, something that should have been so simple. i really don't understand why things must be so complicated.
young master came home one day after school and went straight to my room. his mother wasn't home from work. he needs a batch of cookies for school tomorrow, the home-made type and not those straight from boxes. it was a tad inconvenient perhaps, being the eleventh hour and all but since i have all the necessary ingredients in the fridge, all i had to lose was time.
so, off we went, with all the ingredients piled high in our hands to the kitchen we were a-baking. i'm no professional baker and most attempts end up in failure. still, a batch of cookies i can whip up. edible or not, that is a different question altogether. halfway through the baking session, which he insisted he had to do by himself, i shooed him off for his tuiton and homework.
by dinner time, the mouth-watering aroma filled the kitchen. young master hasn't finished his marathon tuiton session. his mother, who has just returned from work, joined the rest of us at the dinner table. whilst i was still tending to the biscuits, lady of the house was telling the rest how inept i was at baking. hahaha, a fact which i do not deny nor am offended about. young master's mother was bewildered. why was i baking cookies for her son? how come she doesn't know anything about it? she completed dinner faster than you can say abracadabra, and stormed off in the direction of her son's room. nobody could find her. much much later, her son came down and looked moody. apparently his mother had threw a fit and told him never to ask for her help again.
sigh.
so dramatic.
which leaves me very confused. what was the big faux pas here? was he supposed to wait until his mother come back from work, which can sometimes be very late, or was he suppose to give her a call first to get her permission? her permission to seek help from others, a family member nonetheless. what should have been my politically correct response? was i supposed to have rejected her son's plea for help? i may be branded cold and heartless. was i suppose to give her a call first to check if it was alright? i am not one to call for attention to the kind and helpful side of me and to gloat for glory. to do or not to do? something that should have been so straightforward, something that should have been so simple. i really don't understand why things must be so complicated.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
...and they came in pairs.
looking at my facebook's friends list, i know 2 andrews, 2 annies, 2 garys, 2 ivans, 2 jackies, 2 noels and 2 stanleys. i feel like i'm collecting a noah's ark.
time for tea
yesterday, had tea once more with our two budding bosses. it has been a very long time since our last tea session. time has driven an invisible wall between friends. once we could talk about everything, now it takes time to warm up again. once we laughed over anything under the sun, now laughters sounded a little strained.
our tea sessions have never been anything more than just plain gibberish, chatting about anything and everything to let out a little steam in our life. taking a little time off from our daily, hectic yet mundane life to simply talk, listen and connect. the pureness of friendship.
lately, things have been changing. life changes all the time. our tea sessions have been slowly dwindling away. have we run out of topics to talk about? from our yet another gibberish session yesterday, i hardly think so. perhaps the tapering is due to the ackward positions we hold in our lives. no one lives for himself and himself alone. striking a delicate balance between our desire to lighten the hurculean load on the shoulders, even if only for a little while, through harmless pointless banters and the feelings of close and dear is a mighty, and very stressful, task. then again, i speak for myself only. them, they are just plain busy.
so, time and circumstances have driven a cold draft back to my disposition. yet i can't help it. i am not one to open up easily to strangers. i hold back, i protect, i hide. that is me. yet i regard them still as friends. as close as any friends can be. because of all our pointless banters.
our tea sessions have never been anything more than just plain gibberish, chatting about anything and everything to let out a little steam in our life. taking a little time off from our daily, hectic yet mundane life to simply talk, listen and connect. the pureness of friendship.
lately, things have been changing. life changes all the time. our tea sessions have been slowly dwindling away. have we run out of topics to talk about? from our yet another gibberish session yesterday, i hardly think so. perhaps the tapering is due to the ackward positions we hold in our lives. no one lives for himself and himself alone. striking a delicate balance between our desire to lighten the hurculean load on the shoulders, even if only for a little while, through harmless pointless banters and the feelings of close and dear is a mighty, and very stressful, task. then again, i speak for myself only. them, they are just plain busy.
so, time and circumstances have driven a cold draft back to my disposition. yet i can't help it. i am not one to open up easily to strangers. i hold back, i protect, i hide. that is me. yet i regard them still as friends. as close as any friends can be. because of all our pointless banters.
Friday, September 11, 2009
life's choices
5.30pm.
the end of another hard day's work.
he is pounding hard on the threadmill, working out the day's tension and getting the blood pumping through his veins. the boss joins him downstairs at the gym. the two worked quietly side by side, sweat poring through the pores. he walking briskly, the boss cycling. the only sound emanating from the room is from the television. the men worked out in ackward silence.
after what seems like the longest time, the boss turned to him and asked, 'so, how much did you buy today?', referring to a business transaction that they were working on. not the strangest question to be ever uttered between boss and employee. except that he is also his father-in-law. and they have rarely talked about anything else besides work. and that the rest of the family have also rarely talked to the boss about anything else besides work.
life. it's all about your choices in life. who is to say it is worth it or not?
the end of another hard day's work.
he is pounding hard on the threadmill, working out the day's tension and getting the blood pumping through his veins. the boss joins him downstairs at the gym. the two worked quietly side by side, sweat poring through the pores. he walking briskly, the boss cycling. the only sound emanating from the room is from the television. the men worked out in ackward silence.
after what seems like the longest time, the boss turned to him and asked, 'so, how much did you buy today?', referring to a business transaction that they were working on. not the strangest question to be ever uttered between boss and employee. except that he is also his father-in-law. and they have rarely talked about anything else besides work. and that the rest of the family have also rarely talked to the boss about anything else besides work.
life. it's all about your choices in life. who is to say it is worth it or not?
amazing discovery!
i have a new discovery that i will like to share with you. apparently, western women will not die from being knocked down by a car. i haven't discover the reason for their seeming natural immunity to road accidents yet, but i vow to never rest until i can uncover the truth behind their very well protected secret.
today morning, as my car was turning the bend, a couple of blondes were walking in the middle of the road. their confidence of exercising right in the middle of the road stems from their knowledge that they won't die even if a car was to knock them down at full speed. of course. however, being gracious and knowing that they are obstructing traffic, the lady on the left spied an approaching car with the corner of her eye, which has by now slowed to a crawl to follow the women, and slowly dragged her feet to one side of the road. she was insistent that she does not in any way alter the slow tempo of her exercise and so, was adamant about strolling slowly away. it is quite amazing. researchers the whole wide over will be most interested in dissecting these two breed of women in order to discover what is it that cause them to be so fearless in the face of death, or if indeed they are naturally protected from the forces of fast moving cars.
today morning, as my car was turning the bend, a couple of blondes were walking in the middle of the road. their confidence of exercising right in the middle of the road stems from their knowledge that they won't die even if a car was to knock them down at full speed. of course. however, being gracious and knowing that they are obstructing traffic, the lady on the left spied an approaching car with the corner of her eye, which has by now slowed to a crawl to follow the women, and slowly dragged her feet to one side of the road. she was insistent that she does not in any way alter the slow tempo of her exercise and so, was adamant about strolling slowly away. it is quite amazing. researchers the whole wide over will be most interested in dissecting these two breed of women in order to discover what is it that cause them to be so fearless in the face of death, or if indeed they are naturally protected from the forces of fast moving cars.
time for tea
yesterday, had tea once more with our two budding bosses. it has been a very long time since our last tea session. time has driven an invisible wall between friends. once we could talk about everything, now it takes time to warm up again. once we laughed over anything under the sun, now laughters sounded a little strained.
our tea sessions have never been anything more than just plain gibberish, chatting about anything and everything to let out a little steam in our life. taking a little time off from our daily, hectic yet mundane life to simply talk, listen and connect. the pureness of friendship.
lately, things have been changing. life changes all the time. our tea sessions have been slowly dwindling away. have we run out of topics to talk about? from our yet another gibberish session yesterday, i hardly think so. perhaps the tapering is due to the ackward positions we hold in our lives. no one lives for himself and himself alone. striking a delicate balance between our desire to lighten the hurculean load on the shoulders, even if only for a little while, through harmless pointless banters and the feelings of close and dear is a mighty, and very stressful, task. then again, i speak for myself only. them, they are just plain busy.
so, time and circumstances have driven a cold draft back to my disposition. yet i can't help it. i am not one to open up easily to strangers. i hold back, i protect, i hide. that is me. yet i regard them still as friends. as close as any friends can be. because of all our pointless banters.
our tea sessions have never been anything more than just plain gibberish, chatting about anything and everything to let out a little steam in our life. taking a little time off from our daily, hectic yet mundane life to simply talk, listen and connect. the pureness of friendship.
lately, things have been changing. life changes all the time. our tea sessions have been slowly dwindling away. have we run out of topics to talk about? from our yet another gibberish session yesterday, i hardly think so. perhaps the tapering is due to the ackward positions we hold in our lives. no one lives for himself and himself alone. striking a delicate balance between our desire to lighten the hurculean load on the shoulders, even if only for a little while, through harmless pointless banters and the feelings of close and dear is a mighty, and very stressful, task. then again, i speak for myself only. them, they are just plain busy.
so, time and circumstances have driven a cold draft back to my disposition. yet i can't help it. i am not one to open up easily to strangers. i hold back, i protect, i hide. that is me. yet i regard them still as friends. as close as any friends can be. because of all our pointless banters.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
choices
5.30pm.
the end of another hard day's work.
he is pounding hard on the threadmill, working out the day's tension and getting the blood pumping through his veins. the boss joins him downstairs at the gym. the two worked quietly side by side, sweat poring through the pores. he walking briskly, the boss cycling. the only sound emanating from the room is from the television. the men worked out in ackward silence.
after what seems like the longest time, the boss turned to him and asked, 'so, how much did you buy today?', referring to a business transaction that they were working on. not the strangest question to be ever uttered between boss and employee. except that he is also his father-in-law. and they have rarely talked about anything else besides work. and that the rest of the family have also rarely talked to the boss about anything else besides work.
life. it's all about your choices in life. who is to say it is worth it or not?
the end of another hard day's work.
he is pounding hard on the threadmill, working out the day's tension and getting the blood pumping through his veins. the boss joins him downstairs at the gym. the two worked quietly side by side, sweat poring through the pores. he walking briskly, the boss cycling. the only sound emanating from the room is from the television. the men worked out in ackward silence.
after what seems like the longest time, the boss turned to him and asked, 'so, how much did you buy today?', referring to a business transaction that they were working on. not the strangest question to be ever uttered between boss and employee. except that he is also his father-in-law. and they have rarely talked about anything else besides work. and that the rest of the family have also rarely talked to the boss about anything else besides work.
life. it's all about your choices in life. who is to say it is worth it or not?
ring, ring........it's for you
still remember the good old days when you don't have this nagging troublesome bothersome thing by your side? that you are free to roam, without a care for time or place? that you don't need to have a thought for any other? and no whiny spoilt mega-attention-caller noise will shrill incessantly in your ear, demanding that you drop everything on your hands and listen attentively?
i am, of course, talking about my handphone. it doesn't get any more appealing just because i just changed to a pink one. it still demands my attention at the most frustrating of times; like when i am in the bathroom, when i am just about to fall asleep, when i am in the midst of enjoying my meal. of course, it doesn't ring when i am in a boring meeting, waiting for any divine intervention to come save me from dying a very slow and torturous death. the thing is evil, i tell you.
i do remember, the good old times, when someone asked me for my handphone number and i answered, 'oh, i don't usually switch it on', and it was fine, it was acceptable. nobody shrinks from you in a heartbeat as if you are some strange alien from another planet. nobody leaves their phone on 24/7 in that era (anybody commenting that it must have been a very long time ago can consider themselves dead meat). the other day, a colleague mentioned to me that he can always be contacted, that he leaves his phone on 24/7. my immediate thought was 'so? who doesn't? what's the big deal?'. from being a luxury, it has become a necessity, a part of the human anatomy even.
so, can you live one whole day without your handphone? can I live one whole day without my phone? i gladly can, and i gladly will, if i am not being seriously reprimanded as being irresponsible for not carrying my phone around like a new-born baby in need of constant nourishment. by my own flesh and blood nonetheless. he deems it irresponsible. sigh. i didn't see that coming. it's no longer normal to leave your handphone in your room and go down for dinner. it's not normal to exist independently without your handphone for a matter of few hours. people have to be at the beck and call of others within the blink of an eye. all these must be improving communication between people by a vast margin. but yet i don't see it.
i miss the ring-free days. i miss being uncontactable. perhaps that's why i love vacationing in the u.s. of a and japan. where they have a totally different type of tele-communication system than ours and our handphones are rendered useless. but then they had to come up with 3g!!! i will seriously have to consider spending some vacation time in some remote uncivilised uninhabitated island. to escape from the evil shrilling sound of ......THE HANDPHONE!
i am, of course, talking about my handphone. it doesn't get any more appealing just because i just changed to a pink one. it still demands my attention at the most frustrating of times; like when i am in the bathroom, when i am just about to fall asleep, when i am in the midst of enjoying my meal. of course, it doesn't ring when i am in a boring meeting, waiting for any divine intervention to come save me from dying a very slow and torturous death. the thing is evil, i tell you.
i do remember, the good old times, when someone asked me for my handphone number and i answered, 'oh, i don't usually switch it on', and it was fine, it was acceptable. nobody shrinks from you in a heartbeat as if you are some strange alien from another planet. nobody leaves their phone on 24/7 in that era (anybody commenting that it must have been a very long time ago can consider themselves dead meat). the other day, a colleague mentioned to me that he can always be contacted, that he leaves his phone on 24/7. my immediate thought was 'so? who doesn't? what's the big deal?'. from being a luxury, it has become a necessity, a part of the human anatomy even.
so, can you live one whole day without your handphone? can I live one whole day without my phone? i gladly can, and i gladly will, if i am not being seriously reprimanded as being irresponsible for not carrying my phone around like a new-born baby in need of constant nourishment. by my own flesh and blood nonetheless. he deems it irresponsible. sigh. i didn't see that coming. it's no longer normal to leave your handphone in your room and go down for dinner. it's not normal to exist independently without your handphone for a matter of few hours. people have to be at the beck and call of others within the blink of an eye. all these must be improving communication between people by a vast margin. but yet i don't see it.
i miss the ring-free days. i miss being uncontactable. perhaps that's why i love vacationing in the u.s. of a and japan. where they have a totally different type of tele-communication system than ours and our handphones are rendered useless. but then they had to come up with 3g!!! i will seriously have to consider spending some vacation time in some remote uncivilised uninhabitated island. to escape from the evil shrilling sound of ......THE HANDPHONE!
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
i'm a barbie girl, in a barbie world
i feel like a barbie doll today.
and my owner just rotated my leg 360 degrees.
both right and left.
umpteenth times
Tuesday, September 08, 2009
a peek into my day
was woken from my deep slumber by a faint toot-toot-toot sound emanating from my right side. when i begin to realise that the irritating sound plays no part in my dream, consciousness filter through the thick blanket of slumber and the details of my dream began to vaporise.
thus began my day. sleepwalked to the bathroom, emerged wide awake, prepared breakfast and lunch to feed the ever-hungry ones, hit their little bums to hurry them out of the door, sat down for a little brekkie myself with the other half, along with some side order of newspaper. when he was also off for another day's worth of paycheck, i decided to venture out on a little adventure of my own. to the gym i will go, heigh ho, heigh ho.
for all the 4, or was it 5, years that i have been staying there, i have never visited the in-house gym. walked past it many a times but the quiet, dark room has always been a little intimidating. if it was dark and quiet, it would have been fine. however, i can just imagine all these fit, beefy looking people in tight fitting clothes, without an ounce of fat on their body, looking every inch a mr universe, or a miss universe, working out side by side with me. gyms are not for beautiful looking people. they already look good enough, go out somewhere and flaunt it. gyms are for people with love handles, elephant thighs and jiggling bits to pant, pound, exert and sweat in order to look like them. they should ban all those already-fit looking people from the gym. return only when you start to look like one of us; the normal a-little-greedy, a-little-unfit, a-little-jiggly part of the population.
today i was ready for a little ackwardness, i have put on my thick-skin face. with a reader's digest in hand, so that i can suavely walk past the gym with my face deeply engrossed in the book should it be full of those fit beautiful creatures, i headed off for the gym. and to my surprise, it was dark and empty, as usual. with 240 units in the condominium, and an average occupancy of 4 persons per household, making a total of 960 people living in that place of dwelling, not 1, not a single soul, will come down for a little bit of panting and gasping at 8.30am in the morning. perhaps they are doing some panting and gasping already in their unit :-p.
so, i was left blissfully alone for my very first virgin visit to the gym in my condo, where i sweated a little, panted a little and overall did my body some good, even if only marginably better than my usual imitation of a couch potato.
by 9am, i was back up in my unit, resting on the sofa waiting for the body to cool down once more before i hit the shower. it was an energetic morning. after the good workout, at 9am in the morning, i was ready to...... drift back to sleep. smelly clothes and all. having woken up at 6.30am, i want to crawl back to sleep. so badly. but my day has begun and even if only in lethargic mode, i will continue. whoever says exercise makes you more alert?
:-p
thus began my day. sleepwalked to the bathroom, emerged wide awake, prepared breakfast and lunch to feed the ever-hungry ones, hit their little bums to hurry them out of the door, sat down for a little brekkie myself with the other half, along with some side order of newspaper. when he was also off for another day's worth of paycheck, i decided to venture out on a little adventure of my own. to the gym i will go, heigh ho, heigh ho.
for all the 4, or was it 5, years that i have been staying there, i have never visited the in-house gym. walked past it many a times but the quiet, dark room has always been a little intimidating. if it was dark and quiet, it would have been fine. however, i can just imagine all these fit, beefy looking people in tight fitting clothes, without an ounce of fat on their body, looking every inch a mr universe, or a miss universe, working out side by side with me. gyms are not for beautiful looking people. they already look good enough, go out somewhere and flaunt it. gyms are for people with love handles, elephant thighs and jiggling bits to pant, pound, exert and sweat in order to look like them. they should ban all those already-fit looking people from the gym. return only when you start to look like one of us; the normal a-little-greedy, a-little-unfit, a-little-jiggly part of the population.
today i was ready for a little ackwardness, i have put on my thick-skin face. with a reader's digest in hand, so that i can suavely walk past the gym with my face deeply engrossed in the book should it be full of those fit beautiful creatures, i headed off for the gym. and to my surprise, it was dark and empty, as usual. with 240 units in the condominium, and an average occupancy of 4 persons per household, making a total of 960 people living in that place of dwelling, not 1, not a single soul, will come down for a little bit of panting and gasping at 8.30am in the morning. perhaps they are doing some panting and gasping already in their unit :-p.
so, i was left blissfully alone for my very first virgin visit to the gym in my condo, where i sweated a little, panted a little and overall did my body some good, even if only marginably better than my usual imitation of a couch potato.
by 9am, i was back up in my unit, resting on the sofa waiting for the body to cool down once more before i hit the shower. it was an energetic morning. after the good workout, at 9am in the morning, i was ready to...... drift back to sleep. smelly clothes and all. having woken up at 6.30am, i want to crawl back to sleep. so badly. but my day has begun and even if only in lethargic mode, i will continue. whoever says exercise makes you more alert?
:-p
Monday, September 07, 2009
a tale unfolds
funny how life is like a movie, or a thick novel. slowly the story unfolds, page by page, day by day. the scene changes, the characters changes, everything changes. over time, i've been telling a story in this blog of mine. perhaps not in such an obvious manner but now i link together the stories that were told.
http://2ching.blogspot.com/2008/03/of-life-and-living.html
http://2ching.blogspot.com/2009/03/whole-lifetime.html.
now, 6 months down the road, he is being introduced to blind dates. it seemed like just yesterday that she left, that i touched her cold, still body for a pulse. the image is still too vividly stuck in my mind's eye.
yet, can you blame him? there isn't a correct or wrong length of time to grieve. here is a man who has always had someone to take care of him since his first breath on earth. first his mother, then his sister, and straight on into the laps of his wife. a man who never had to do any housework for even one day or even cook for himself. a man whose answer to a pile of unwashed undergarments is to buy some more new ones. is his a tale of a man blissfully sheltered all his life, or the sad story of one who has always needed others?
we laugh at the stories of his blind dates gone wrong. we gleefully accept that he needs someone in his life to take care of him. friends and families eagerly look for someone to hold his hand for the rest of the journey. have we forgotten? did we close the chapter on 20 years of marriage and a whole lifetime? perhaps one can love many at the same time, perhaps to love does not mean not to grieve.
i steal a glance at him. he does not look sad. he does not look lonely. perhaps he is a master of disguises. or perhaps only at night, when all is dark and silent, and the spot beside him on the bed is cold and empty. a whole lifetime together and it ends like this. only when it is dark and silent.
it would have been poetic to have just ended at the previous paragraph. but i see no joy in wishing for a man to pine pointlessly for someone who has gone. i do injustice in claiming that i do not see him grieve. grieve is his and his alone, he does not have to show, me or anyone else. 6 months down the road, he has a new lease on life. i wish him well.
http://2ching.blogspot.com/2008/03/of-life-and-living.html
http://2ching.blogspot.com/2009/03/whole-lifetime.html.
that was then. this is now.
we didn't know why, when, how, why and what . time revealed all. one year later, she was gone, all the mystery unveiled. now we know when, what and how. we still don't understand the 'why', why one can stand passively by the sidelines, watching her waste away a little each day. i don't think we will ever understand. still, it was their decision. we can sigh, we can grieve, we can say a million times over what a senseless waste it was, but ultimately, it was her life on her handsnow, 6 months down the road, he is being introduced to blind dates. it seemed like just yesterday that she left, that i touched her cold, still body for a pulse. the image is still too vividly stuck in my mind's eye.
yet, can you blame him? there isn't a correct or wrong length of time to grieve. here is a man who has always had someone to take care of him since his first breath on earth. first his mother, then his sister, and straight on into the laps of his wife. a man who never had to do any housework for even one day or even cook for himself. a man whose answer to a pile of unwashed undergarments is to buy some more new ones. is his a tale of a man blissfully sheltered all his life, or the sad story of one who has always needed others?
we laugh at the stories of his blind dates gone wrong. we gleefully accept that he needs someone in his life to take care of him. friends and families eagerly look for someone to hold his hand for the rest of the journey. have we forgotten? did we close the chapter on 20 years of marriage and a whole lifetime? perhaps one can love many at the same time, perhaps to love does not mean not to grieve.
i steal a glance at him. he does not look sad. he does not look lonely. perhaps he is a master of disguises. or perhaps only at night, when all is dark and silent, and the spot beside him on the bed is cold and empty. a whole lifetime together and it ends like this. only when it is dark and silent.
it would have been poetic to have just ended at the previous paragraph. but i see no joy in wishing for a man to pine pointlessly for someone who has gone. i do injustice in claiming that i do not see him grieve. grieve is his and his alone, he does not have to show, me or anyone else. 6 months down the road, he has a new lease on life. i wish him well.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
the sun stole a kiss without my knowing it
came back with a slight sunburn without even knowing it. i looked into the mirror and saw a woman with a very healthy (over)glow looking back at me. didn't give the reddish nose and rosy cheeks a second thought, though looking back my face did feel tighter and a little chafed. over time, the rudolph nose started chapping and peeling. only then did it struck me that indeed, i was sunburnt, from too much fun under the sun. whilst wearing a jacket. with a fog enveloping me. in genting.
how does one arrive in genting all cold and freezing, jumping on one foot to the other to keep warm and leave with a sunburn?
how does one arrive in genting all cold and freezing, jumping on one foot to the other to keep warm and leave with a sunburn?
Tuesday, September 01, 2009
the day when heaven cries
i love rainy days. days when the sky is gloomy and it is wet and cold all around. when the pitter patter of raindrops is like a soothing lullaby to my soul. when the positive ions in the air re-energises my spirit.
i realise lately that it rains on the funerals of some people. on some category of people with specifications and requirements that i do not understand. it rains during the final journeys of some ...but yet not others. i can only imagine that these people are tender people. people who have never hurt another soul in their lives. good people. people that the heaven above feels sad for bringing away. people that makes the sky weeps. i have attended two funerals this year and on both funerals, the sky opened briefly and pour down a little tears.
now, on dark gloomy days, on days that make me feel good and recharges the essence that is me, i feel a little sad. that somewhere someplace another good person has passed away.
i realise lately that it rains on the funerals of some people. on some category of people with specifications and requirements that i do not understand. it rains during the final journeys of some ...but yet not others. i can only imagine that these people are tender people. people who have never hurt another soul in their lives. good people. people that the heaven above feels sad for bringing away. people that makes the sky weeps. i have attended two funerals this year and on both funerals, the sky opened briefly and pour down a little tears.
now, on dark gloomy days, on days that make me feel good and recharges the essence that is me, i feel a little sad. that somewhere someplace another good person has passed away.
hello
he asked, how come mr. x never greets me in the office anymore? eventhough he greets everyone else and most certainly those directly related to the boss. it seems, he has become invisible. which is strange, because he is never one to step on anyone else's shoes, nor one for rough words or loud voice. always polite to others, it dawned on him suddenly that mr. x seems to have ceased acknowledging his existence.
is it shallowness? he is still related to the boss, so it seems illogical. or was mr. x offended by him because of some work issues. but perhaps in ways that even he is not made aware of. maybe mr. x is stuck with some shares that he cannot sell because of him? sometimes our work is not who we are but is what others see of us and who they imagine we become.
is it shallowness? he is still related to the boss, so it seems illogical. or was mr. x offended by him because of some work issues. but perhaps in ways that even he is not made aware of. maybe mr. x is stuck with some shares that he cannot sell because of him? sometimes our work is not who we are but is what others see of us and who they imagine we become.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
tracking for ramen
if you have been searching, then you will know. that there isn't any ramen in town worth talking about. i googled the phrase 'best ramen in kl" and came up zilch. no milky-white pork bone soup with an aroma to die for. no springy noodle with a bite so chewy in the mouth. i can almost smell the hot sweet-smelling soup in my mind, it brings saliva to my mouth.
the nearest thing that i could find to a perfect ramen is in singapore. across the causeway. 4 hours drive away. sigh. persistent that i was to have that perfect ramen, i made a note of the name and address of the place. and when i knew that i was going to be in singapore one particular week, i was all ready with my gprs and the note.
with slow driving conditions, we finally cleared the immigration at 2pm. a little late for lunch. our stomachs were growling. we had deliberately kept it empty in anticipation of that hot kyushu pork bone soup ramen. anything else would have spoiled the taste. our gprs co-operated fully and brought us straight to the correct street. wrong shop no. it took us another 10 minutes to locate the exact 'x' that marked the spot. it was indeed like a treasure hunt, and our mouth was deliriously drooling the closer we got to the chest.
final destination: liang court. tampopo. famous black pig ramen. normally we would have wandered around the shopping centre a little to locate the shop. this time i headed straight to the information counter. 2.30pm and i still haven't have my much anticipated ramen warmly tucked inside my stomach, this is no time to be playing around. directions received, it was all i could do to stop myself from sprinting the last 100m to the shop. i would have beat usain bolt during that particular instance too.
don't know if it was all the anticipation or the exhilaration from finally being able to savour with my tongue the taste that was in my head for weeks, the ramen was delicious, to say the least. one bowl was way too little, but one bowl was all i could fit in. it's a pity that i have to go through all this fuss for a simple noodle of ramen. it is already on my 'to go' list when i next visit the island, alongside the springy al-dente shimbashi soba that i must also have.
the nearest thing that i could find to a perfect ramen is in singapore. across the causeway. 4 hours drive away. sigh. persistent that i was to have that perfect ramen, i made a note of the name and address of the place. and when i knew that i was going to be in singapore one particular week, i was all ready with my gprs and the note.
with slow driving conditions, we finally cleared the immigration at 2pm. a little late for lunch. our stomachs were growling. we had deliberately kept it empty in anticipation of that hot kyushu pork bone soup ramen. anything else would have spoiled the taste. our gprs co-operated fully and brought us straight to the correct street. wrong shop no. it took us another 10 minutes to locate the exact 'x' that marked the spot. it was indeed like a treasure hunt, and our mouth was deliriously drooling the closer we got to the chest.
final destination: liang court. tampopo. famous black pig ramen. normally we would have wandered around the shopping centre a little to locate the shop. this time i headed straight to the information counter. 2.30pm and i still haven't have my much anticipated ramen warmly tucked inside my stomach, this is no time to be playing around. directions received, it was all i could do to stop myself from sprinting the last 100m to the shop. i would have beat usain bolt during that particular instance too.
don't know if it was all the anticipation or the exhilaration from finally being able to savour with my tongue the taste that was in my head for weeks, the ramen was delicious, to say the least. one bowl was way too little, but one bowl was all i could fit in. it's a pity that i have to go through all this fuss for a simple noodle of ramen. it is already on my 'to go' list when i next visit the island, alongside the springy al-dente shimbashi soba that i must also have.
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
yahoo not-so-yahoo
did you hear? yahoo is changing the way we can recover the account if we forget our password. soooooo?, i hear some of you ask. i don't know which is more pathetic, them asking such silly questions, or me not being able to answer them.
q: where did you spend your honeymoon?
a: that looks pretty simple, huh? it isn't. after the wedding, we had no plans whatsoever for the honeymoon, planning for the wedding had already taken too much of our energy. so, the day after, i was still seated at my desk in the office. everybody who walks past will stop by and exclaim, "what are you doing here? shouldn't you be on your honeymoon?", so much so that i immediately got a ticket to london so that i won't have to hear it anymore. so, london was my honeymoon, right? wrong. that's where we stopped to plan for the start of our honeymoon. we ended up in europe, here, there and everywhere. now, tell me, how exactly do i write all these in that little short space for answer? london? paris? austria? europe? headache.
q: what is your eldest cousin's name?
a: maternal or paternal?!! it will take me forever to figure out who is oldest. i have cousins whom i don't even know their names!!
q: what is your youngest child's nickname?
a: ha! batman. astro boy. tv king. ah boy. ti ti. tomato. honey. take your pick.
q: what is your eldest child's nickname?
a: *rolls eyes* princess. sweety. che che. cherry. honey. cutey. baby. with so many options, how can i remember which i chose?
q: what is the first name of your favourite aunt?
q: what is the first name of your favourite uncle?
a: the answer is so pathetic. i don't have any favourite aunts and uncles. they didn't exactly play a very active role in my life when i was growing up.
q: who is your favourite author?
a: my bookcase is lined with books from sidney sheldon, david baldacci, jeffrey deaver, jeffrey archer, jonathan kellerman, dan brown. i can't even tell whom i like more!!!
q: what is the surname of the best man at your wedding?
a: aha!! this is pretty straightforward! i can answer that, without any ambiguity. but if i'm repeating it here, it isn't, right? *smirk* that is because our dear best man's surname is lee. for some reason, yahoo won't accept any answers with less than four alphabets. *thunk* yes, that was me fainting. i can't change someone's surname to suit you, mr yahoo!.
q: what is the surname of the maid of honour at your wedding?
a: *looking slitty eyed* her surname has two alphabets only......
q: what is the name of your favourite book?
a: with so many favourite authors, you think i will only have one favourite book? actually, at the moment, my absolute favourite book is the time traveller's wife, which is written by none of my favourite author. how's that for irony. the question is, will it continue to be my favourite book 2 years down the road after having read so many more books. it's not like i will be forgetting the password of the account tomorrow, or the day after. we are talking about several years later. make a mental note: in 2009, your favourite book was the time traveller's wife. good one, for ms. swiss-cheese brain.
q: what is the surname of your favourite musician?
a: for someone so fickle and with so many favourite authors, you think i will have just one favourite musician?
q: what is your all-time favourite film character?
a: is there something wrong with me, because i don't seem to have one favourite anything. as with all good movies, i have a character that i like in it, but there are so many good movies out there, so how can i have only one favourite? if they keep asking questions like that, it must mean that there are people out there that are totally devoted to one thing per category. such obsession, such passion, such fervour, i seem to be lacking. please do not remind me of my shortcomings.
q: what was your first pet's name?
a: mum was allergic to animal hair *pout*. strange that she isn't allergic to human hair. i had a pair of tortoise, a gift from a friend, but they died before i named them. tortoise. pets that virtually need no care whatsoever and have a tendency to live a very long life. until they come into my hands.
there was a rabbit that jumped into our house compound. i can't remember what we named it....snowy perhaps. the minute i returned to singapore, mum told me a cat came to snatch her away, and that was the end of my pet-rearing days. such coincidence. i think maybe mum just relocated her.
q: what is the name of your favourite sports team?
a: manchester united? can i borrow my hubby's favourite? i'm not too keen on sports.
q: where did you spend your childhood summers?
a: at home? really exciting. i rather the people at yahoo didn't know that.
q: what was the surname of your favourite teacher?
a: teachers don't like me. can't figure out why. so i guess the feeling is vice versa.
q: what was the surname of your best childhood friend?
a: was that between 5-6 years old, 7-10 years old, 11-12 years old, 13-14 years old, or 15 years onward? i must have changed schools 7 times before i finished secondary education, how many best friends do you think i have had?
q: what was your favourite food as a child?
a: didn't like food much as a child. mum had to take hours to shove those things in my mouth back then. now, i can't stop myself from shoving them in without chewing.
q: what was the surname of your first boss?
a: first boss, last boss, only boss. unfortunately his surname has only three alphabets :-p
q: what is the name of the hospital where you were born?
a: i can't even remember what i ate for lunch yesterday, you think i can remember something 38 years back? especially since the hospital has since closed down eons ago. probably because i was born. they decided they have produced their greatest quality ever, and no subsequent birth can match such excellence, so they decided to close it down. ahem.
q: what is your main frequent flyer number?
a: this is a trick!! a scam!! it's posted everywhere, do you think i am so socially unaware? we are not suppose to divulge information on any personal identification numbers! ha! i wasn't born yesterday, you knowwwwww.
i fail even at answering security questions. lameness at its extreme. there is however one last option; make your own question. mine was 'why do they ask such stupid questions?'. do you know what the answer is?
q: where did you spend your honeymoon?
a: that looks pretty simple, huh? it isn't. after the wedding, we had no plans whatsoever for the honeymoon, planning for the wedding had already taken too much of our energy. so, the day after, i was still seated at my desk in the office. everybody who walks past will stop by and exclaim, "what are you doing here? shouldn't you be on your honeymoon?", so much so that i immediately got a ticket to london so that i won't have to hear it anymore. so, london was my honeymoon, right? wrong. that's where we stopped to plan for the start of our honeymoon. we ended up in europe, here, there and everywhere. now, tell me, how exactly do i write all these in that little short space for answer? london? paris? austria? europe? headache.
q: what is your eldest cousin's name?
a: maternal or paternal?!! it will take me forever to figure out who is oldest. i have cousins whom i don't even know their names!!
q: what is your youngest child's nickname?
a: ha! batman. astro boy. tv king. ah boy. ti ti. tomato. honey. take your pick.
q: what is your eldest child's nickname?
a: *rolls eyes* princess. sweety. che che. cherry. honey. cutey. baby. with so many options, how can i remember which i chose?
q: what is the first name of your favourite aunt?
q: what is the first name of your favourite uncle?
a: the answer is so pathetic. i don't have any favourite aunts and uncles. they didn't exactly play a very active role in my life when i was growing up.
q: who is your favourite author?
a: my bookcase is lined with books from sidney sheldon, david baldacci, jeffrey deaver, jeffrey archer, jonathan kellerman, dan brown. i can't even tell whom i like more!!!
q: what is the surname of the best man at your wedding?
a: aha!! this is pretty straightforward! i can answer that, without any ambiguity. but if i'm repeating it here, it isn't, right? *smirk* that is because our dear best man's surname is lee. for some reason, yahoo won't accept any answers with less than four alphabets. *thunk* yes, that was me fainting. i can't change someone's surname to suit you, mr yahoo!.
q: what is the surname of the maid of honour at your wedding?
a: *looking slitty eyed* her surname has two alphabets only......
q: what is the name of your favourite book?
a: with so many favourite authors, you think i will only have one favourite book? actually, at the moment, my absolute favourite book is the time traveller's wife, which is written by none of my favourite author. how's that for irony. the question is, will it continue to be my favourite book 2 years down the road after having read so many more books. it's not like i will be forgetting the password of the account tomorrow, or the day after. we are talking about several years later. make a mental note: in 2009, your favourite book was the time traveller's wife. good one, for ms. swiss-cheese brain.
q: what is the surname of your favourite musician?
a: for someone so fickle and with so many favourite authors, you think i will have just one favourite musician?
q: what is your all-time favourite film character?
a: is there something wrong with me, because i don't seem to have one favourite anything. as with all good movies, i have a character that i like in it, but there are so many good movies out there, so how can i have only one favourite? if they keep asking questions like that, it must mean that there are people out there that are totally devoted to one thing per category. such obsession, such passion, such fervour, i seem to be lacking. please do not remind me of my shortcomings.
q: what was your first pet's name?
a: mum was allergic to animal hair *pout*. strange that she isn't allergic to human hair. i had a pair of tortoise, a gift from a friend, but they died before i named them. tortoise. pets that virtually need no care whatsoever and have a tendency to live a very long life. until they come into my hands.
there was a rabbit that jumped into our house compound. i can't remember what we named it....snowy perhaps. the minute i returned to singapore, mum told me a cat came to snatch her away, and that was the end of my pet-rearing days. such coincidence. i think maybe mum just relocated her.
q: what is the name of your favourite sports team?
a: manchester united? can i borrow my hubby's favourite? i'm not too keen on sports.
q: where did you spend your childhood summers?
a: at home? really exciting. i rather the people at yahoo didn't know that.
q: what was the surname of your favourite teacher?
a: teachers don't like me. can't figure out why. so i guess the feeling is vice versa.
q: what was the surname of your best childhood friend?
a: was that between 5-6 years old, 7-10 years old, 11-12 years old, 13-14 years old, or 15 years onward? i must have changed schools 7 times before i finished secondary education, how many best friends do you think i have had?
q: what was your favourite food as a child?
a: didn't like food much as a child. mum had to take hours to shove those things in my mouth back then. now, i can't stop myself from shoving them in without chewing.
q: what was the surname of your first boss?
a: first boss, last boss, only boss. unfortunately his surname has only three alphabets :-p
q: what is the name of the hospital where you were born?
a: i can't even remember what i ate for lunch yesterday, you think i can remember something 38 years back? especially since the hospital has since closed down eons ago. probably because i was born. they decided they have produced their greatest quality ever, and no subsequent birth can match such excellence, so they decided to close it down. ahem.
q: what is your main frequent flyer number?
a: this is a trick!! a scam!! it's posted everywhere, do you think i am so socially unaware? we are not suppose to divulge information on any personal identification numbers! ha! i wasn't born yesterday, you knowwwwww.
i fail even at answering security questions. lameness at its extreme. there is however one last option; make your own question. mine was 'why do they ask such stupid questions?'. do you know what the answer is?
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before you proceed, let me warn visitors that they may find today's posting a little crass, if not weird. hello everybody. are you all w...
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i'm back. yes, that is pretty obvious, otherwise you wouldn't be reading this. i brought back souveniers, dear readers, to compensat...
