Happy Merdeka Day, Malaysia!

I haven't yet bought a new flag to hang at my house door. May be tonight... or maybe I'll just wash the old one tonight and just hang it up right away... Or maybe I'll get a new one, wash the old one and have Jalur Gemilangs all over my house tonight. hehehhehe

Whatever it is I'd be doing, I can't help feeling a small sense of belonging - this is my country, my Malaysia. It doesn't matter if I hate the jams when a small spat of rain happens, no matter how much I hate how Malaysians are kay-poh-chee even when the accident happens on the other side of the highway, no matter how much I hate the politics, it is still my Malaysia and the Malaysia to many others.

It is the Malaysia that has diversified cultures, multi-languages, many colors and tonnes of attitudes. It doesn't matter if you were born a Malay, a Chinese, an Indian, a Bidayuh or any ethnic background whatsoever, you'll be complaining when it rains and you'll complain even more when it doesn't. Just because you're a Malaysian.

I can't help but feeling patriotic when the date comes closer. As I age, I learn to love the day more, as it means more and more to me as the years pass by. When I was younger and just got back from the States, I really wished I had decided to stay there and not come back. I wondered why I came back. The heat was driving me crazy, constructions were everywhere, horrendous jams, costs of living were high, difficult to get jobs, I just wasn't happy to be home. I wanted to go back to the States where life seemed easier, calmer and more organized. To me the States was home. I never realized I was home.

Every since then, I kept comparing life between the 2 countries. How grass seemed greener there than here. How things were cheaper. I observed 4th July, not loving 31st August. I hated that Sudirman's song they kept playing over and over again on the radio and television channels.

But one day, a stone from Jupiter hit me. I am here, not there. I was born here, not there. I went to school here, not there. I had most of my growing up years here, not there. Why can't I love this land here more than there?

Put the silly politics aside, put the heat aside, put all the negativities aside, this is my country. This is my Malaysia. I have as much rights to it as my neighbors, as much rights to it as my schoolmates, as much rights to it as my colleagues. It is a beautiful country when the skies are blue, it is a beautiful country when the dark clouds hoard the skies. It is just as beautiful as New Zealand, as colorful as Africa, as diversified as the States. And why must I compare?

I love it when I open my house door and I see the different ethnics living together in harmony. It doesn't matter if you pangkah dacing, bulan or bulan biru or whatever it is that you pangkah, you open your house door and you greet your neighbor who is born a Chinese, or born an Indian or born a Sikh. When I jog and pass all the houses, I love the combination of cooking aroma - the scent of rendang, the scent of fried garlic, the scent of strong curry, all become the scent of Malaysia. During Ramadhan, and we're coming to it very soon, I love the sight of the non-Muslims buying food together with their Muslim counterparts. When I break fast at restaurants or malls, I love the sight of the multi-cultures all together waiting for the azan, to eat together and indulge in the delicious food already waiting on their tables.

I probably can get this anywhere else. I probably can get this in Jakarta, or in Singapore. I probably can get this is Colchester, or Glasgow, or Edinburgh for that matter. But no, I am feeling it here. In my Malaysia. Your Malaysia. Our Malaysia.

So I ask you my friends, let's all hold hands and celebrate this day. It's not for the sake of our forefathers, it's not for the sake of our children. It's for us, now, present. It's for Malaysia, our Malaysia.

Happy Merdeka, Malaysia... I love you...

The Call

I just got the call. The long awaited call. The number that appeared was +6000. I wondered if it was a long distance. Who'd call me? From where? Hopes went up, hopes started flying... could it be? Could it be?

Me: "Hello?" (with a very cautious voice)
The person: "Hello... Is this Cik Aina Othman?"
Me: "Yes" (still cautious, but hope already flying)
The person: "I am Lina, calling from Digi Billing Department"

Ho ho ho... Santa has arrived, and he arrived real early too. The call was from Digi to let me know that my RM73.45 has now been transferred from my expired number to the new one!

YEAY!!! (Though I must say all my hopes came crushing down soon after the lady introduced herself...)

HAHHAHAHHAHAH... what a fool, me.

It Doesn't Matter What Happens Now

No, it doesn't. It doesn't matter to me if fuel price goes up. It doesn't matter to me if food prices soar. It doesn't matter to me if my salary review does not come this year. It doesn't matter what happens now.

To me, today and since last night, I am over the moon. Personal battle doesn't exist, cancer cells are no issues. My mood has changed. I am happy and smiling. It feels like a big burden taken off my chest. Funny thing is I didn't do anything! Had I played a part in campaigning, had I played a part in convincing, had I played a part in funding, I would know I deserve to feel like this. But no, all I did was hope. And my hope came true. I can only imagine if I had played a part! I must have flown to Jupiter and back! Woopppiiee... Hehehe...

In my head right now I have flashes of him smiling and beaming. I have flashes of the jubilant smiles everywhere and all around him. The love, the hope, the pride, the mission. It's all becoming bigger and brighter. It's all becoming clearer. And I am smiling with them, feeling their love, sharing the pride, hoping the best for the mission.

So really, it doesn't matter what happens now. It doesn't matter what have happened too. It doesn't matter that during build-up Monday, an inconsiderate b@#%$*d stepped all over me and broke my self-worth. It doesn't matter now that on build-up Monday, that same inconsiderate b@#%$*d damaged an organ of mine. But it doesn't matter now because that inconsiderate b@#%$*d is one b@#%$*d less in my life.

All that matters now is, I am back to my old self. And DSAI is walking to his seat in Parliament. :D

My Life as an Exhibitionist

(Disclaimer: This is how I deal with my battle - I lie to myself that there's no battle. I only face the battle when I want to, so please humor me.)

I have a weird job scope. I have one direct boss, and one indirect boss. The direct boss needs no explanation; the indirect boss - hmmm... I am also not sure how it works. See, I deal with my indirect boss only for exhibitions, and only on the contract signing and correspondence with the exhibition organisers. All else on the exhibitions, I have other bosses to report to. Funny? Yeah.

Anyway, my indirect boss calls me 'The Exhibitionist'. The moment he called me that, I laughed. I had the image of me bikini-clad (red, mind you), with hyperhigh heels, holding placard asking people to drop by our booth. Hehehe... Kinky? Very.

During a conversation with an event manager one day, my indirect boss introduced me as 'The Exhibitionist'. The event manager laughed loud, and my indirect boss was impressed that the guy understood. Then the event manager said, 'Sir, I am the orgy-niser'.... HAHAHA... (Don't get it? Susah la cam ni...)

Anyway, life as an exhibitionist can be quite hectic. But fullfilling all the same. It's like doing PR, event-ly. I get to liaise with strangers who immediately become acquaintances, especially so if I meet them the next year at the same event. Some are now my regular lunch buddies; we've crossed the border of client-vendor and become plain friends.

The downside of being an exhibitionist is having to be around during build-up day. Build-up days equal tonnes of dust filling the exhibition hall, with no ventilation and usually very heaty (Malaysia maaa... Whatdaya expect?). I'd end up with oily face, berlengas satu badan and I usually suffer from post-exhibition zits. But trust me, the downside is actually the best part. You'll see booths turn from bare to colorful; from nothing to something. You see images on papers becoming real-life set-up.

The sad part is always the tear-down day. All the anguish, the anxiety, the arguments, the frustration, all gone with just one kick. I usually cry on tear-down day. Emo eh? Well, that's me - emo at unnecessary moments.

But that's life - my life. My life as an exhibitionist.

Today in the History of My Life

I confess. I have been battling with self-worth issues since I can remember. It's like battling cancer; the cancer cells keep coming back despite the therapies I go through. And it's spreading. And today - today the cancer cells attacked one of the major organs in my body. I feel weak, I feel blank. The hope that one of the recent therapies would at least halt the spread of the cancer cells have gone futile. As a matter of fact, the therapy back fires and damaged an organ instead.

I know I will still live through this damage. It's just that the damage marked the history of my life as one of life experiences' and mar the beautiful image life has been painting for me. I can't help feeling that I have lost hope on this battle. That I have no more strength to go through any more therapies. I know I am bullshitting myself left, right, front, back.

The blank feeling is dreadful.

When will this battle end? Can I end it? I wish I have the answer. For the moment, I am resorting to pretending that all these never happened - that the cancer cells did not attack my organ, that the therapy never actually existed.

For the moment I am praying that Permatang Pauh's by-election tomorrow brings good news. And I pray hard for DSAI and I pray hard for myself.

Bravo, Digi!

What was I thinking? I had this Digi number that was meant for Tisya to use at home. But then the phone went rosak. And I had been keeping the sim card for months not remembering when it expires. You know how it is with these prepaids. 90 days after expiry date and the number is terminated.

And guess when it expires? Today. To-D#%$-B@&ä$%-day! I had to pick today to check with Digi, when it could've been yesterday or two days ago or last week. But no, I picked today. And the number expires - today.

Worse case, there's about RM70 worth of credit in that number! What was I thinking?

Spoke to the Customer Care Consultant (or is that Maxis' term?) and the guy said he couldn't do anything. It's terminated, it's gone and bye-bye RM70. I said 'please' in the softest and politest tone that I've ever done. And I said it many times. Never have I been so polite to these kind of people. And I'm not the polite kind. Sepuluh kali I mintak, sepuluh kali he said 'No'. Then I did my US-customer-style, I requested to speak to his supervisor. Sepuluh kali I mintak, sepuluh kali jugak he said 'No' - again. OMG! I was almost screaming already. Maintain, maintain, I said to myself. It is after all, MY fault. :(

Then Nelson, the supposed supervisor came online. Mak datok, pronounciation berterabur! But proper grammar, nevertheless... So I gave it to him. Not more than 30 seconds talking he gave me this solution - go buy new number ASAP and he gets Digi to transfer my RM70! Hey, that's a deal!!! Apala susah sangat? Bet you on my last dime Maxis will not do the same! Trust me, I know!

Petronas Merdeka Adverts

Are they out yet? I haven't been watching the right channels to catch them if they are already aired. I so lurve the Merdeka ads; they have been something that I look forward to in a year, other than the Raya ads, the Deepavali ads and the CNY ads.

But I must say that this year's Merdeka celebration seems a little slow. It's 10 more days to go and I haven't seen much decoration to usher in the day. Not like previous years when I could see banners and lights and whatnots strung over roadlights and stuff, the moment the calendar turns the first day of August. Is it me? Am I not passing the right roads? Or maybe I am not watching the right channels? Maybe one of these nights I should take a slow drive through the city center and see if my claim warrants.

Anyway, back to the adverts. Yasmin Ahmad has done a very good job in addressing some issues that fits perfectly for our 50th year of independence. Despite rapidly turning into a modern country the past 50 years, we still have issues that we either close one eye to or we just can't seem to see. I always have some kind of heavy thug at my heart whenever I have these issues in mind. Why can't we change? Why can't we think like the supposedly 'modern' people we claim to be? Why can't we all stand as one? What ways can we start to make a better future? We, Malaysians, are actually far from being the 'modern' people we claim to be. We have become more liberal in thinking, more posh in living but we seemed to have pawned our values. We become more selfish, more possessive, more competitive even among our own. Why do we let ourselves do this to us? What will our kids become? Questions after questions after questions, but no answers. Sad...

The 2007 Merdeka advert I love so much...

What's 997?

A very close friend asked me this yesterday - what's the significance of 997? The answer: no direct significance. Other than it's Blue's registration number, it bears no meaning as to birthdates, anniversaries, deaths, new house move in dates, first date, first kiss... Oh, the list can go on an on but no, it bears no meaning.

But I can tell you why I stick to it.

I had a fight with my salesman in the course of getting Blue. I told him to get me a 3-digit number or get me a 4-digit out of a list I gave him. The next day, his despatch boy called to tell that all 3-digits were sold and went ahead to charge me RM500 for a 4-digit. I freaked out! And freaked out I did in my BFF's office. My BFF had to bear with all the screaming I was doing over the phones, with tears streaming down my face. When I was done, she had only one thing to say 'Na, ini la first time I nengok owang nak beli keter nangis-nangis! I tak penah jumpa owang cam you nih!' :D

I proceeded to get the registration number myself. With baby in hand, I queued up among car salesmen, saleswomen and despatch boys at the Setapak JPJ at 7 in the morning. My backup (my BFF and our office despatch) arrived an hour later. I used my baby as an armor for the ulats to give way for me to get to the counter. So bad, eh? A woman had to do what a woman had to do. At the counter, I told the lady to just give me any 3-digit number - I was game for anything. After 2 tries, she said 'sembilan sembilan tujuh?' and I smiled - 997 it was.

After I got Blue, I joined one particular forum for owners of Blue's kind. My nick was 997 - I was the human Blue talking and making acquaintances with other humans. When I went for tt's and lunches, the forum members fondly called me 997. It was some kind of belonging - Blue and me as one. Like a love story made in heaven! Ahak ahak! Lawak ah...

So there you go, how I got 997 and why I can't let go of it. I am 997 - and 997 is me. :D

Denial

Denial is something that I breathe. If you meet my other half, pull him aside for a private conversation and ask him what i've been denying these whole years and he'll give you a mighty long list. Take your pick; i'll deny most of his claims.

But the one thing i'm conciously denying is my age. I've no qualms telling strangers that I am a thirty-something, but I just can't accept the fact that I AM thirty-something. That's what I call concious denial - I conciously deny a certain fact that I profess. Now that when I look at it, where did my twenty-something years go? The whole 10 years of it? I mean, I can imagine not noticing a year passed by but 10? I must be having amnesia!

Just 2 nights ago I realized how much my eldest one has grown. All these while I see her in school uniform and I constantly have images of her stuttering to answer my interrogations ala CSI style.






















But that night she just changed to become a half girl-half woman. I, who denies being a thirty-something, who constantly wishes to be a twenty-something, who still goes ga-ga over boybands, who listens to pop, am now a mother to a teenager.






















Talk about being in denial.

Off We Go!

After having this in mind for many many and I mean MANY years, I finally got myself a blog. The reason for one? Tonnes. The main reason for one? Just for the fun of it! Ahaks...

So here goes me with my crap, do pardon the sometimes very strong yet ridiculuos thoughts and views - I am one who have very distorted perception of many things in life. And one who has very queer principles. I am here to share my joys, my sorrows, my sentiments and everything else that's not too private on my life and life as a whole.

So let's go, baby... Let's start the cruise!