Big Book 2009, Dark Room 2010

As the clock ticks away the remaining of 2009, I can't help but feel really sad and empty.

It is like seeing one big book of my life stories closes, stashing away every emotions that overwhelmed me. It makes me feel sad because I know the road ahead is not going to be the same anymore. I will not see the same faces as how I had seen them in that big book. I will not travel the same road every morning as how I would in that big book. I will not feel as safe or as sheltered like when I was in that big book. I probably will not be the same person as I was in that big book.

And when that big book closes, it will never open again.

It was never like this before. Previous 31st Decembers promised the next day would still be similar. That I could expect slight improvements or minor alterations. Whatever that would be, I knew that I would be able to adapt to the new date or the new process. I knew that my emotional being would be able to handle the oncoming hits, because those hits may just be as hard or as subtle as before.

But not this time. This time, 31st December cannot tell me the same. It tells me to be ready but it doesn't say for what. It says the road is not the same but it doesn't say which way. It says I will change, but I am not told in what sense. It's like I am standing in a dark room, not knowing what to expect.

I have no one to blame for this but myself. I scripted it this way because I needed to save me from jumping off a cliff. I had to save myself from the inner and the outer voices. I needed to prove my courage to someone who never fail to find the silliest of reasons to condemn my every action. I had to prove that I mean what I said, and that I have no fear of standing up to my own words.

At the cost of standing in the dark room. Facing uncertainty. All alone. Sad and empty.

As The Day Comes

As the final day approaches, more and more emotions appear. Some appear and disappear right away; some appear and become stronger the next day.

It's like I can go crazy anytime, if I choose to let those emotions take control of me.

Especially the lone drive home. When the body is tired and lose grip of the mind, and the mind just wanders off into all corners of the memories. Faces start flashing across the vision, closely followed by a tinge of unexplainable bittersweet feeling. Sometimes there's a subtle but noticeable pricking feeling that makes me feel empty and lost, knowing that those faces are marked permanently in my history and forever remain a part of me.

I have never spent this long being in an organization. Never had too many emotions tagged to one place; never loved a job more than I can ever explain. It was a place I called home, a place I was comfortable, where I felt belonged and was in place. It was my sanctuary away from life's cynical acts. It was my shelter.

This place saw me grow from one person with confidence she did not know she had to one who knows exactly when to exert it. It allowed my esteem to soar high. On my first day here, I was like an egg - motionless, useless. Over time, the egg hatched into a meaningless larva. And as if the larva had a clock, on one fine day it started webbing, bit by bit, little by little, non-stop and around the clock until its whole body turned into a hard cocoon. Then when the time is just right, not a moment less nor a moment more, the cocoon broke and free a butterfly with its unique colors and patches.

I was that egg. I am now that butterfly.

My unique colors are blotches from those people whom I crossed paths, those who walked along with me, those whose life I touched and touched mine back in return. Each and everyone of them contributed to the colors of my personality.

Along the way, strands upon strands of friendships were made. Some broken along the way due to conflicts and misunderstandings. Some died of natural causes. Some wilted away unattended while some just chose a different path and never turned back. Where one strand ends, the other begins.

But I am lucky to discover many strong strands that provided support and love when I needed some. Those strands became the cushion when I fell, became the ropes that hoisted me up on my feet again. They withstood my temper, my turmoil, my roller coaster rides. They formed a wall so that I can bounce back and be myself again.

Not a day that I forget to remind myself how blessed I have been being here. And I am forever grateful for each and every moment. Not one will I erase no matter how bitter or how painful it was. Not one will I value more than the other, for they all make up the beautiful years I have had here.

To all that I have known the last eight years, I only have these to say:

Thank you for the light when I was in darkness.
Thank you for the guidance when I got lost.
Thank you for the cheer when I was struggling, and the celebration when I made it through.
Thank you for laughters when I was crying, thank you for the lift when you saw me falling.
But most importantly,
Thank you for believing in me when in me, I see nothing.

HAH!

Really, I can't even bring myself to think of you without feeling like stranggling you alive.

I keep telling myself that it is because you are as such, is the reason why you are where you are. A person who does not need to use much of the god-given brain. Air-head. Can't even do your own job well but has the knack to make comments on how others do their work.

So what if I wanted to fill up the courier forms myself? So what if I decide I will not 'burden' you because I know you will still make smart-ass comments on me? So what if I am one who wants to finish the work that I start? Bloody hell my choice, isn't it?

It ain't you who pay the remaining of my salary here, lady! And I'm so fucking happy that there will come a day that the first thing I see when I walk into an office is NOT your snorty face.

Please lah, don't pride on the promotion when in reality, people complain on how you answer calls. You ain't professional, woman! You don't do justice to the image of the organization!

But hey, if I tell this to you, you'd CNN the whole world that I think I'm good. You'd be too bitter to even smile at me, probably wishing I'd zapp off that very moment. Well, here's the news, honey, I will not be here any more in a number of days and you can have the floor all to yourself. Go ahead and answer the calls your way, coz I ain't gonna be around to pick up those calls for you with my professionalism. No one's going to compare, coz no one can tell between glass and diamond.

But I ain't gonna bash myself over an air-head like you. I will spend the rest of my days here gracefully, coz I know I will never have to deal with you again.

All the best!

Defragmenting the Sanity

It's been a while since I last defraged my emotions. No wonder it's haywire, sometimes making me a walking crazy woman.

Let's see what has been couping up in my mental box that have been messing with my sanity:

1. THE decision. Yes, finally the time to make up my mind on either staying or leaving has come to a final stone. Much emotional wars, SMS fights, name-calling, personality-bashing have occured the past 3 months that have made me decide to stop at least 50% of the torture by torturing myself another 80% more. At least I keep some mouths shut over the decision, and hopefully by keeping them shut, I become the happy me again.

2. Deciding subject #2. THE decision has actually made me think and rethink the life that I have been facing over the decade. If I can make up my mind on subject #1, I know I am able to decide on subject #2. After all, I am sure that I will not die despite whatever decision that I make. Having been in this situation for a decade does not make me a specialist nor it makes me a preacher of the subject matter. All it does me is deeper insanity and tougher personality.

3. The void. The void has become bigger and bigger and provoked a lot of questions in my head that I cannot answer. Much of the void was caused by subject #2.

4. Freedom of speech over in the virtual world vs. Noone in the virtual world takes me too seriously. When I regained my freedom of speech last week, I realized I have no one who'd take me seriously other than the one who gave me freedom. Guess it's a freedom gone to waste.

OK, that's about 30% of the defragmentation needed by my mental state of mind. The remaining 70% will take its process as the days go by. At least I got the ball rolling... :P

Letting Go...

A close friend of mine was having a difficult time to move on into a new relationship. She was reminded of her previous love every time the new guy called her or texted her.

As much as I push her to forget the past, I know for a fact that it is not easy. It is always easier said than done to move on, to forget, to forgive or to just let go. It is easier to tell someone to erase some fond memories of flings, but harder to do it yourself. It is hard to forgive, to not remember the pain people caused you, to not associate a certain smell to a certain heartache. It simple to just blank out your mind than to forget beautiful conversations at a specific place with a specific special someone .

Simply put, it is not easy to let go.

Of anything.

Anger, pain, love, longing, emptiness, loneliness, everything.

Because you are constantly reminded of sweet events when your are lonely. Because you are sure to remember things that made you happy and full. Because you, simply put, can't yet let go.

And when you are just not letting go, you are carrying with you that emotional burden that is just too heavy to lug around. It tires your mind; it heavies your soul. And it stops you from moving on, because you keep wishing that you were still in that situation where happiness is all you knew.

It's as much a matter of the heart as it is of the mind.

Sometimes you think that you have moved on, but one day a hard brick hit you hard and you realize you have not. The feeling is very much still strong in your heart. For all you know, you have been living in denial. That you have moved on. When in reality you are still stuck at number 1.

Sometimes I'd say it's OK not to let go. Just as long as you still try to take baby steps. I'd say don't forget the beautiful memories you had then, and keep trying to make new ones. No one can replace those wonderful moments there were; no one can take that away from us. But I also know, that those beautiful memories would drag you into melancholic moods too deep to even reach out for help.

So sometimes, I too get confused - to let go or not to let go.

Trust me, I know.

P/S: And it's not about work...

I Miss Me...

I miss being that confident person who thinks she can deceive people that she's happy.
I miss being that person who has waves of emotions sweeping over her.
I miss being that person who pretends that she can handle everything in life.
I miss being that person who despite having tonnes of negativities, can still be positive when she needs to.
I miss being that person who always have something to look forward to in life.
I miss being that woman who thinks she can seduce a man with a wink.
I miss being that girl who loves to play naughty and giggle at the slightest of humor.
I miss being that someone who will throw smiles at strangers.
I miss being that girl who loves life.
I miss being that capable, strong, independent woman.
I miss being me.

Paradigm Paralyzed

When I got that piece of paper saying that I had to go for a training, I wasn't excited. The name bores me even before me attending it - "Cross Functional Mapping Workshop".

What is that? I asked for project management training and this is what I got?

Blaaahhh...

What made me even heavier to attend the training was that I was instructed to take up a new post, and I was battling with myself to accept that change. And I was battling with myself that the training will not do me any good, being me in that new post and all.

As the week approached, I was finding reasons not to go.

But I went anyway.

Training was smooth, I was always looking forward to coffee and tea breaks. Day one went real quick and I expected day two to be the same.

Training spoke of things I can apply back in the office - but being one who was in a battle to accept the new change, I wasn't too bothered.

Until...

Towards the end of the second (also the last) day, the instructor played a video by Joel Barker - the man who made famous the idea on paradigm. The video caught my attention from the very beginning. He spoke of how we all need changes, how we all need to adapt quickly to changes, that changes come whether we want it or not.

I felt like I was slapped on the face. Hey, he wasn't talking about an organization; he was talking about ME! I was the one going through this change, and I was resisting it emotionally and mentally. Just because I fear of the connation the title brings, and fear that I would not grow in my career from here onwards.

I had tonnes and tonnes of unjustifiable fears that no one could help answer. I was resisting the change causing me to lose control over my emotional being.

Then, Joel Baker, who had not stopped slapping me on my face since the beginning of the video, spanked me again with the term "paradigm paralysis" - the inability or refusal to see beyond the current models of thinking.

Like I was taken out of a tunnel, the light suddenly hit my eyes. My nerves stopped firing for the longest time, my heart stopped pumping. The only thing I could hear at that moment was: "Dang! That's ME!!"

And so I became the 'paradigm invalid'. Bedridden too long in the previous state of mind that I was unable to accept changes or new ideas. I was paralyzed the moment I was thrown a new notion.

But I pray that I don't stay as a paradigm-paralyzed individual for long. It consumes too much of my mental state of being...

:)

Wanna Know Why?

Today I just wanna be blunt.

I'm so not in the mood to beat around the bush like I always have.

I know you must be angry when you found out I blocked you in Facebook. I know when you see me at the office, you smile but when I pass, you stick your tongue out and hate me guts.

But you must also know that you have not been giving me my space, you have not been my friend, let alone being my supporter when in time I need one. You love to read what I write, not to better your English, but to speculate whom I am angry with, what wrong I've done, whose toes I stepped on. You love to whisper behind my back, never to confront me for you never have balls. You love to follow my Facebook statuses knowing that you have things to talk about during lunch, during work, during whenever.

But you must know that I write because I love to. I write because it's a form of therapy. I write because I have decided that only one or two of my real friends will know how much I really hate you or despise you, but I can face you and work with you professionally. Because you hate working with emotional people like me. Because we all know that emotional people put passion into their work.

So from stopping you to speculate me and especially now in my present seat, I have to block you. From reading me and my emotions, from speculating whom I am upset with, from you thinking that I was writing about my superior.

But don't be too upset. You are not alone. There's few of you out there, because you all share the same traits - the typical Malay who will always stay typical.

Though some may only get to see my wall and not my statuses, you all actually share the same reason.

Owh, and another thing - you were never my friend.

:P

What's in My Head

Probably you wonder what have been going on in my head with all the Facebook statuses.

Probably by the time you read this, those turmoil I have would either be inflated or deflated, all formalized by a piece of signed paper.

You see, in times when I contemplate to move to a new pasture, I was offered, or rather, instructed to fill in a new post. It has been almost 3 weeks that I toyed with the idea, despite knowing that it is irreversible. Like I can do anything much, anyway. :P

What I fear most is not knowing what size of shoes I have to fill. It feels like I am venturing into a dark tunnel, all alone and blinded to all debris and whatnots there'd be on its ground. It's tough enough that I have been venturing this journey alone; now that it's pitch dark and no hands to guide me, I know I am bound to falls and knocks and bruises and oh-oh's.

I know, however, my communication instruments will not fail me. These could probably save me at the end of the tunnel. But what if there's no signal and I can't reach out for help? Do I halt my journey and pray help would fall from the ceiling?

Being here for too long, I know I'd hear voices from a far distance. Voices that are not encouraging, persuading me to give up and join them. Voices that smirk when I cry; clapping their invisible hands when I fall. And knowing that I will be alone, I will have to wipe my own tears and nurse my bruise. Do I have the strength to bear these? Yes, I know that I have been strong in my path but how do I know I can hold on for much longer? In life, whether we want it or not, when pain hits us, we still have to breathe and live. We can't end our life by clicking the Save button like in a computer game, and continue from that point onwards whenever we feel like it. We fall, we get hurt, we cry, we get up, we learn and we move on.

But somehow, I feel it's different with work. We fall, we get hurt, we cry and we contemplate whether it's worth the hurt to move on the same path again or bail out. Bailing out is always an option. But bailing out, to me, is a way of giving up. And bailing out, to me is a sign of weakness - something my ego can never agree with. I can never justify to myself that bailing out even after being battered is the way to go. Although I do feel stupid staying on.

So that's my fear.

But I also know that there'd be occasional voices that would give positive charges to my dwindling energy. Those that would cheer me on for me to get to the end of the very long tunnel. I know they'd be very faint and I'd have to pay extra attention to them, knowing that it will take yonks for me to hear them again. I will have to use these positive charges sparingly, like pawning the last of my prized jewelry.

And now you know. Why emotions swamped me the last week or so.

My fear. But I read somewhere that fear actually stands for False Evidences Appearing Real... Wonder how if that applies in my case.

:)

My 100th Entry...

Without me even counting, I have reached my 100th entry. I once promised myself that if I ever reach 100, I would seriously consider making a book out of my blog. Now that the big 100 is right smack in my face, I wonder where I should start.

Or probably I should never bother. Besides, good things sometimes roll in your open arms without you expecting it.

*chuckles*

Ignorance is Bliss. Not the Noun, but the Verb.

I know it's impolite. I know it's rude. But I also know that if I had been myself, I'd be even more sarcastic and spiteful.

But I think what I am trying to do is the best for all parties - to ignore and thus, to avoid lashing out because I know my words would be very hurtful.

Thing is, I am the kind who gives space to those around me. I don't prod, I don't invade privacy. I don't post on anyone's walls (on Facebook) other than to wish birthdays or to put up some less than private notices that I know will not cause damage to the person's public image. I try to give nonsensical comments to friends' statuses, but always being careful to go with the flow and not too personal. Regardless of what you've read, words that come from me are usually carefully thought of.

To me, Facebook is a public area. All that is said by you and upon you can and will be used against you. That's the rule of thumb I once learnt the hard way when I was much younger. And to it I hold.

But nothing much needs to be said if one does not respect or understand the term 'respecting another's privacy'. Indeed, respecting another's privacy involves not only knowing when to stop pulling jokes, it also takes into account knowing the connotation every word brings being read by a third party.

Of course, I can talk endlessly. So let me just make my point - ignorance is bliss. Not the noun, but the verb. Trust me. It's for the best.

I Don't Want...

I don't want to step on anyone's toes.

Honestly I don't.

I just want to sit here quietly, doing my work. I don't want to ruffle feathers, I don't want to make noise. I just feel like sitting here all alone and lonesome.

Not that I don't have the drive. I just don't have the motivation to minggle with negative minds trying to be positive. I've had enough of being positive when things are just plain negative. I've had enough of trying to make a difference when status quo is of desire.

And I hate changes. I hate not knowing what I have to face. I hate not knowing how to make pace, let alone constructing sentences so that they please the ears they befall. I'm not the kind to please. I please me and only me.

So please don't make me step on toes. Or I'll just see myself to the door.

Switching Between Hats

A full-time employee... and a part-time employer.

That's me. :)

It's not that easy switching hats, especially when the full-time hat is the one that has you think less and expect less. It feels funny that one moment you talk like an employee and the next moment has you signing letters and cheques sans attending meetings and act like you own the company.

But this life has its advantages, not that I complain.

I became a better employee - less complaining, less criticising, less problematic, more open. I became a better consultant at approaching employee matters... Of course, I don't deal with those matters directly; it's only fair as I am after all a part-timer at it.

But certain working relationship issues need a woman's emotional point of view and I must say I have been wise at dispensing it... unfortunately not at the place I spend time fully... hence, I must be viewed as a little naive girl there. :D (But that works with me as well, can't tell them how smart I am now, can I?)

Sometimes I ask myself if I'll ever take the risks of being a full-time employer - not the monetary risks, but the human-factors that may affect the productivity of the company as a whole. Staff management is not as easy as it seems. Mind you, managing a clerk at my full-time job sometimes drives me up the wall, what's more managing a team of 'management wannabees'. :) I'm pretty sure my "drill sargeant" method does not work with the current workforce, leaving me beside me, myself and I if I get too unlucky!!

So for now, I just switch hats only when I am required to. I'll stay as the "Puan Boss" when "Encik Boss" goes outstation - signing documents, dropping instructions, playing counsellors at odd times and uncalled moments.

Probably until these hats wear off.

:D

Between Culture and Religion

It's that time of the year again!

The time to uphold culture that does not belong to me yet, it's adamant that I observe it to make sure that my girls know a little of what's flowing in their blood.

It's time for mooncakes and lanterns - a time to give and a time to share, in the Chinese culture.

Every year without fail at this time of the year, my eldest would bring a mooncake to school to give to her class teacher. It's a sign of respect and a give of thanks. Though she may not understand why she gets to do that every year while none of her counterparts do it, I know it gave her a sense of self and identity. Especially this year, when she's the only one of a different ethnic background in her class.

It's not because she attends a vernacular school; it's because I want her to remember her roots - one that holds much on respecting the elders.

But some may confuse between culture and religion, stating that mooncake is part of religious belief rather than a culture. To which, I'd say, even if it is, it depends much on our nawaitu (intention).

And my nawaitu stands as it is.

:)

Happy Birthday, Malaysia...

Can I blame the fasting month for me not being patriotic this year? Or may be the lack of TV watching?

But whatever it is, I know the non-anticipated passing on Yasmin Ahmad has affected the nation greatly. It does seem that we are now lost, without a voice leading us towards the feel of belonging.

But why do we need a voice to make us feel belonged in this country we called ours? Why we allow the politicians to harp on unity issues that are actually nonexistent? Why do we allow them to divide us? And conquer our minds with non-sensical non-ethical accusations...

We are all Malaysians by birth. We are all born with equal rights. It is up to us to decide what shape we take, what move we make and what future lies before us.

And for the love of this land, I will once again inspect if my Jalur Gemilang is in good shape to dance in the Melawati breeze.

Happy birthday, Malaysia...

A Firecracker and A Loose Cannon

A little firecracker, he calls her.

I can only imagine the connotation it brings. Of how much love and admiration, of how she sparkles life into their love. I can't help but envy her.

I, on the other hand, is a 'loose cannon'. I didn't know if that was a compliment. But I take it as one nonetheless. A loose cannon that has the ability to do anything it wants, hitting left right center as it pleases; one loose cannon that has the prerogative to not hit anything whenever it feels not to; a very loose cannon with an unpredictable emotional swing. :P

But, hey, give this cannon some credit just because it knows itself well. :)

The Rock of All Rocks, The Fort of All Forts

My father has been a man with little words. He doesn't nag, he doesn't talk much. He rarely expresses himself in most occasions.

My early memories of my father was that when he was a Math teacher in Sekolah Tun Fatimah, Johor Baru. We stayed in the quarters, a huge L-shaped house. My mom would close up one part of the house; she told me it's already too big for the 3 of us even with the other part unutilized.

My father must have earned little back then. We didn't have a car. Every Saturday, we'd walk past the classrooms down the hill to the bus-stop, where we'd wait for the bus to take us to KOMTAR. Coming home, if no large purchases were done, we'd still take the bus and we'd walk past the classrooms again to get home. I was 5, then... and I dreaded the walk home.

I don't remember hearing my father's voice a lot those days.

And I certainly don't remember him being angry at me much other than the incident when one day he marched towards me with his belt. All I remember was I made my mother angry and I got the belting from him instead. After that, my mother had the best weapon ever against me - "do it again and I'll tell ayah" which definitely would get immediate response from me.

But I do remember that if I can't get my mother to buy me anything, I can talk to him and he'll give me that look saying "we'll get it if I can afford it"... which would usually end with him affording it.

I remember being so safe holding his hands, so happy whenever he was around when I was growing up.

In Standard 1 through 4, I was always at the top of my class. When in Standard 5, the school had some reshuffling and I joined some of the smarter kids in school and only managed to get the 5th spot. I remember one night while in the car waiting for my mom to get some mee goreng mamak, I was put under the spotlight by my father.

"Kenapa dapat nombor 5?"

That was he asked. Short, sharp and no nonsense.

I was stumped. All I could say was that Chong Phui Fong, Azimah and Shahrizal were smarter than me and that I got almost perfect marks and yet had to settle for 5th place. He said nothing. And his silence killed me, making me wish that I could just kill Chong, Azimah and Shahrizal (and the other guy) so that I could reclaim my #1 spot.

By then, my father had obtained his degree and was transferred to the Ministry of Education. He'd take me to work on Saturdays. Back then, the unit he was in was located at the Bank Pertanian building in Kuala Lumpur. His room was right in front of a library, and he'd teach me how to borrow books by writing his name in a huge register by the library door. Every Saturday, without fail. There I was, in his room, reading books after books after books, while waiting for time to go home. And we never chat. We just sat there, he with his work, me and my books.

Not until I grew up and got married that I try to create conversations with him. That was when I realized, despite his less of words, it did not mean he is less of love. He is so full of love, only not full of words. When I was going through hard times, it was his voice that soothed me. When I try to be strong, it's his words that add steel to me. When I try to hide my tears, it's his tones that brought down those pearls.

And through numerous, and I mean numerous, times that I felt like giving up, it's his SMSes that became the wind beneath my wings.

The rock of all rocks, the fort of all forts.

The one person whom I will be lost without, the one person whose love I never have enough of.

Ayah, I love more than you can ever imagine, and I owe you more that I could ever repay you. I love you.

Why Do You Have to Grow Up So Fast, Baby Girl?

She has been watching me drive for the past 2 weeks. Been asking how to switch between the gears, even asked what she has to do with her feet at the pedals.

When I asked her why, she said she will drive me around instead when she's big enough.

Tight thugs at my heart hearing that. So much love and responsibility coming from a small body.
What did I do to deserve this much love?

Yesterday, she asked again.

But this time, it's how to stop the car. She asked if I used my right leg to step on the pedal to put on the brakes. Such observation. I nodded, felt the hard thug again, looked into the big brown eyes and smiled. My baby girl has such a big heart, and I feel so undeserving to even take up a small part in it. She smiled back, and turned her head to look at the road as if feeling very proud of herself for getting it right.

Why do you have to grow up so fast, baby girl?

I was holding you in my arms some near 5 years ago and now all you're thinking is driving me around in return.

It was like yesterday that you learnt your first word. It was like yesterday you crawled to get to me. It was like yesterday that you grew your very first tooth.

And when I woke up this morning, you can sing almost every latest song on the radio. You walk, you run, you dance shamelessly in public, enjoying life as how we adults fail to.

And one day I know, oh I so know, baby girl, I will wake up on your wedding day, wishing that you are still the baby girl I hold so tight when my heart hurts.

And I know that on that day, I could hear your sweet little voice singing soft lullabies to your bears. I'd see your wicked smile, looking all charming to get something of your wants. I'd feel your small hands grabbing me by the arms, hugging me from the back, holding my hand just because.

And I know, baby girl, I will miss your fluttering kisses you'd give me at the school gate and the hidden waves you throw when I drive off.

Why do you have to grow up so fast, baby girl? Mama can't catch up with you.

Do You Have a Shadow Following You?

Do you have a shadow?

One that follows you around, putting you all in guilt all the time?

Because you know that you shouldn't have done it, but you did anyway?

Like whispering a bestfriend's secret to someone who shouldn't know about it, or like badmouthing a colleague yet pretending to be a buddy?

*GRIN*

Yeah, I know you do.

Doesn't it make you sick worrying if the person you whispered the hot gossip to actually confront and tell that person that it was you who spilled the bean? Doesn't it haunt you to death that actually your exact words would come to the ears of the one you badmouthed so badly? Doesn't it make you wonder how tomorrow will be like when you have to face that person you gossipped?

Well, enough with the worrying already!

If you are afraid of being confronted with your own words, then quit gossipping. Or if you still want to be the Daily 10, then face up to the fact that you may be used against your own words.

Eliminate hypocrisy in your dictionary. If you don't like anything about a person, tell it straight. Why must you make yourself look good and spread the wildfire? Why must you create a shadow that may follow you around and make you restless all the time?

And the worse thing is, with the shadow hanging by your toes, it makes you think that others are doing the same to you!

So do me a favor, quit it already, ok? Don't make me feel like I'm on top of the world laughing at you.

Though it does feel nice knowing that I am a better person than you are.

:)

No Idea...

The big word for tonight is 'responsibility'.

A friend wrote on his Facebook status that he was on half day leave to care for his wife who was feeling unwell. Regardless of praises by his female friends, he just said that it's his responsibility. But women don't see it that way. It's not a responsibility; it's what you'd want to do for someone you love. It's what you want to sacrifice, knowing that your presence is very much appreciated in times of uncontrollable shivers and splitting headache. It's not responsibility, it's love.

Responsibility is something you have to do, you are obliged to do, in the capacity that you can do.

Responsibility is something that you have to do, no matter the degree of you liking it or hating it.

And responsibility is the one word abundance in my life.

Less one - towards myself.

I never tended to my soul, I never cared for my skin, I never cared if my beautiful eyes have dark bags hanging from them.

I fail to be responsible for myself, when I very much try so hard to fulfill responsibilities put upon me.

My responsibilities are like the IN tray, with none ever making it out. They seem to keep piling one upon another. They add weight to the shoulders; they draw more lines to the face.

With no one even bothered to understand, let alone offer a helping hand or two, things seem to be too heavy to carry on this fragile frame.

And after all these years of carrying responsibilities on my own, I can't help but feel deeply hurt that I am accused of slacking my responsibilities, just because I'm fulfilling responsibilities to my own body and soul.

Is it not enough that I sacrificed? That I tried my best to run the show all by myself?

That I have left my soul to wilt so that I can have other souls to green?

That I let those beautiful smiles I once had slowly turn into forced grin?

Am I not responsible to turn myself back to who I was before?

So, let me be.

It's not that I neglect my IN tray. It's not that I slack my routine.

I just want to be the one responsible for me.

Oh, Malunyerrr...

"I turn my head to the east, I don't see nobody by my side,
I turn my head to the west, still nobody in sight,
So I turn my head to the north, swallow that pill that they call pride,
That old me's dead and gone, but the new me'll be alright.."

My favorite part of my favorite song during every 4.5.

Every time this part comes, I'll be singing it out loud, as if to release all burdens from my shoulders.

I always make sure that no one is behind me, in front of me, or that I'm walking past a house with its owner out gardening.

But one day, I kantoi...

I was belching the words out, relieving all of the day's tensions, putting much passion into every word of the chorus when... a makcik holding orange plastic bags stood staring at me on her front porch. She had the look of curiosity on her face, no impending smile, more like disbelief. It was as if I was yelling for help or something.

As I drew an apologetic smile, her daughter emerged out of nowhere with the look of dismay. Oh goodness! Was I THAT loud?

I kept the apologetic smile (more like a smirk, I'd say) on my face for a while, shut my eyes as I passed both irritated mother and daughter and increased my speed.

Tebal giler rasa kulit muka... felt like burying my head in the sand like ostriches do.

But will I quit singing out loud during my 4.5? Naaaaah.... Try hover around Taman Melawati weekday evenings - you'd probably catch me doing Jai-Ho on an empty Jalan Melawati 2!!

:D

P/S: Jokes aside, ostriches don't actually hide their heads in the sand... I checked Wikipedia on that already. :P

A True Altruism

I passed a fellow jogger who slowed down his pace as he was approaching one of the roundabout's turning. He waited for a car to pass by. He seemed as if he wanted to cross the road. After a few steps, I took a swift turn of my head to see what he was doing. He was picking up a significantly-lengthed narrow piece of wood that was lying on the road, took it to the roadside, and left it on the grass. I managed to throw him a big grin, a sign that actually meant "Bravo" more than anything else.

Altruism. A word I hardly grasp the first time I learnt it in PPP.

Until now, I can only imagine altruism in masses - people helping someone in need, say, like helping accident victims.

But today I realized that that fellow jogger was committing altruism - an act of unselfish regard for or devotion to the welfare of others - without actually needing anyone to know what he did.

He had picked up the piece of wood from the road so that no motorist could run over it or get hurt by it. He picked it up because he knew it would cause danger to people who are strangers to him. But these strangers need not know that he had actually saved them. He needn't have the whole Melawati population know that he has done a good deed. He couldn't care if I didn't write about him.

Such noble thing. A true altruism indeed.

:)

A Great Ride...

The year was 2005.

It was a much dreaded assignment. I was to lodge with a total stranger, for 10 nights. If you know me well, you'd know that despite my laser-sharp thoughts, easy-lashing verbal-ability, I am actually a person who hates breaking ice with strangers.

Then, there were the neighbors from the adjoining room. 2 more strangers. Didn't help much that one of them was the boss' daughter.

It was my second assignment away from the family, but the first that took more than a couple of nights. I was immediately missing the girls; the thought of them waving goodbye at me at the airport brought hard tears I tried to hide from everyone. Being in a room with a stranger helped made tears come extra easy that night.

We broke the ice with a loaf of bread and a bottle of ready-made chicken curry I bought at Giant the day before, dipping the bread pieces into the curry, talking away on general matters. I remember we were loud, maybe both of us tried to hide our nervousness.

Later into the night, the neighbors came back. They crashed in, much to the happiness of my roommate. The connecting door was to be left ajar, I squirmed at the thought of free-flowing strangers into the room. Oh heck, since we were the only 4 ladies on that assignment, we might as well have some bonding sessions.

I was pretty amazed that it only took me one night to get used to the loud laughters, continuous giggles, annoying wake up yells. I was looking forward to the girly screams and the synical comments. It was like living in a dorm - something I never had in my schooling days.

It was that 10 nights that started a mutual friendship between the 4 of us.

Although we are not as close as high-school buddies - we rarely share life stories or growing up moments, we are able to accept each other as we are - loud, emotional, talkative, finicky-eater, all the whatnots we are in the world where men dominate.

And slowly but surely, we become one another's keeper. In the not so deep but definitely trusting friendship, we find comfort in each other's company. We fight tears over things that matter most to our hearts; we laugh hard at each other's silly jokes; we reminisce every detail of our journey from then on.

When the girl who was the stranger I had to lodge together with decided to move on with her life some place else, there was no goodbye. We didn't shake hands, we didn't bid farewell. No telling to keep in touch. And it was best that way.

You know why? Because Chiqnuha never said goodbye, never bid farewell, never promised to stay in touch. Because despite not seeing her sit attentively staring at her prized Ferrari laptop, she never left the friendship at bay. In fact, we got even closer.

When Chase finally ended her hushed romance and entered motherhood abruptly, nothing changed. YMs, SMSes had all 4 updated one way or another.

And today, Dydd officially laid her own path, venturing into the unknown but very much satisfying her need to spend time with her newborn baby and her fast growing elder boy. Again, when we parted, there was no goodbyes, no promises to keep in touch, no farewell.

Because even when I know walking into SP Div will never be as kecoh or as kay-poh-chee as before, I know that the 4 of us will still find ways to find comfort in each other's presence - laughing, synically commenting, listening, chattering, just like how it was on those fateful nights in December 2005.

To Dydd, Chase and Chiqnuha - it has been a great ride! Love you all. :D

A Queer Address Where Peace Resides

Funny but the next place I find peaceful is this place. It is where everything seems to move constantly and everyone seems like bees working hard to increase their stash of honey. It is where the only one that seems to be frozen in time is me.

Funny that the bustle gives me a peace of mind. Observing people doing their thing makes me feel like a part of a bigger thing in life. That my world is bigger than just my cubicle; that life goes far beyond betrayals, heartbreaks, yearnings and frustrations.

Whenever I come here, I always pick a place by the glass panel, so that I have a clear view of all the going-ons. I love the feel of cars passing by inches away from me, admiring each one as they pass. I like how the service agents drive around in the cars so confidently into the service bays. I always imagine the cars saying "Yeay, my turn! My turn!", smiling happily because soon their pain and their aches will be healed by the tender touches of the skilled men.

I get fascinated seeing the cars go around with their hazard lights on. It's like saying "Work in progress! Work in progress! Me! Me!". Life is so full of animation if you let it be...

I love looking at the facial gestures of the men at work, how they interact, their smiles, their frown, their look of concern without even moving a facial muscle. It's an ocean of wonder when you explore their emotions. Maybe they have problems at home. Maybe they are lonely. Maybe they are happy. I dunno, like I said, it's an ocean of wonder.

You know, one of the things I look forward to in my daily life is to come here. Sometimes, I'd spend a whole day here and I never fret - as long as I know my baby is taken cared of, not sitting idly with no intended attention.

But it's not just the bustle at the service bays that make me feel like one ant standing on earth, being seen from the Hubble telescope. It's the sound of dot matrix printers printing away on sales invoices, the ringing of PABX phones, the sound of a National Geographics documentary, papers being flipped, phone conversations, everything. It's like sitting lost in time when everyone seems to have a purpose in life and there you are just enjoying every second of your life with no deadlines to meet and no pains to heal. It's like God watching over His creations - with full contentment and no expectation (because He knows everything goes as He says it will).

And it feels beautiful.

Until the Service Advisor comes and present me the bill...

:D

Why I Wanted to Cry Last Friday

Let me just say it's not easy. It's not easy for me to accept criticism. There you go, one direct shot - my confession.

So if some of you had wondered why I was so emotional last Friday, especially with the obviously-too-obvious Facebook status on Friday - then let me clear it for you: It's all about me being an emotional person.

But hey, can't you give me credit for admitting that I am passionately emotional about my work? Hell, if there's anything I can control in this world, it's what I get to feel about things I am passionate about. Unfortunately, in the environment that I am stuck in at the moment - being emotional comes as a full stop. Emotional. Full stop. Don't work with her. Full stop.

Ever anyone question why she is emotional about her tasks? "Oh, who cares! She's just an emotional person, difficult la work with her... sikit sikit nak marah, sikit sikit nak marah... ingat bagus sangat ke?"

Yup, that's what you get when you love something that you do - "Ingat bagus sangat ke?". Then when you get emotional, the rest of the clan move away whenever you walk into the room. You had a row with A, the next thing you know B doesn't want to talk to you, C turns stone cold, and before you know it, Z is looking away whenever you approach him.

See, that 'you' is me. People find me being radically emotional when I work. But people never give credit that whenever I blow it's right there and then. But no, typical of the sawo matangs. The sawo matangs never give due credits. They give credits only if it credits them back. The sawo matangs find one good reason not to work with you and they hang on to it for the rest of their lives.

OK, sorry I exaggerate... Not all sawo matangs are like that.

*Inhale.... exhale.... inhale... exhale...*

But please know that I am A-OK now. No longer feel like crying, no longer choking when I think about what I thought about on Friday. As have many emotions in my life, the emotions on Friday already passed. No doubt they left trails - like a jelly fish's tails - but hey, gimme credit, I am back to myself like before last Friday ever happened.

One thing though, I am no longer passionate about my work. I fear that my emotions will get in the way again and spoil other people's fun.

:P

IT IS OF THE UTTERMOST IMPORTANCE!!!

OK, let me get this out of my system first.

I hope my disclaimer is clear. Everything that I write is mine and mine alone. All comments are welcomed - positive, negative, constructive, destructive, offensive, defensive, you name it, I welcome it.

But... please don't throw stones from my garden and hide behind my trees. I have beautiful trees. They help keep the home cool and provide resting spots for squirrels, birds, snakes and sometimes urban monkeys. My garden is my pleasure - I tend to it, I water it, I call the aya to mow the grasses when they get too long, on and on and on.

Bottomline is, it's my garden and I do as I please.

But I beg you, I beg you not to come into my garden and throw stones at my neighbor's dog. Even if I am holding a barbeque party and there are many other guests around. Let's be civilized, respect the host, OK? If you still wanna throw stones, come to me and tell me. Then we'll see if maybe we can throw stones at the dog together, huh? Let's not spoil the fun, OK?

Deal? :D

Staring at Me Right in the Face

We've had this particular guest in the house for quite some time... oh well, maybe actually it was for about 3 weeks. The guest was kinda elusive, but kept dropping signs like as if saying 'Hi' to the host without even a proper introduction.

But me being the generous hostess, I just allowed the guest to stay without any grumble. I probably in need of space to stay one day and hey, the guest may well be my saviour! :D

I noticed that the guest had this peculiar preference for chillies - dried chilles, cili api, red chillies. Must be decendence of orang nogori, I chuckled once.

About 3 weeks into the stay, the guest started to rouse the curiosity of the life partner. He started to comment on the smell the guest had been leaving behind; I would brush him off saying "I'll clean the place up one day when I feel like it!". But one day the partner could stand it no longer. He cleared up the whole mess the guest had been creating. The poor thing must feel a little unwelcomed by now.

I have never met the guest. And being the sometimes chatterbox I am, I know that in the presence of the guest, I can be stone quiet. True enough... the next day when the guest decided to get us properly introduced, I was caught off-guard!

And the guest picked the best of all times - the rush hour. The hour to scramble and get something fixed to shush growling tummies. And of the best manner - the guest chose to surprise me by sitting contently in one of my containers, looking all sleepy and full as if expecting me to open the kitchen cabinet any time soon. Caught me by surprise he did! Shocked more like it! Wouldn't you when you open a kitchen cabinet and see a RAT staring right in your face? As if saying 'Hi, I'm Ratatouille. I'm your chef for the day!'.

Arrrrrrrggghhhhhhhhhhh.... run!!!

But I didn't run. I didn't scream either. I froze. Time seemed stopped. Sound seemed absorbed. I heard nothing, felt nothing, thought of nothing. Sheer peace, huh? Right...

But now as I am writing this, I thought, 'A-ha! That is what I should do.' Whenever I need a time out, a moment of sheer peace, I should recall the time when Ratatouille was staring me in the face, and freeze myself - hear nothing, feel nothing, think nothing.

What a grand idea!!!

Hehehehehehhehehehhe

Questions...

Do you know how it feels being betrayed? Do you know how it feels to be angry at someone not knowing how to diffuse the anger? Do you know how heavy it feels to carry the grudges around not able to let go?

I do. I know how it feels being betrayed. Somehow rather, I am a magnet to betrayers. They are attracted to me, like the south pole is attracted to the north. They seem to stick on, suck dry and say bye-bye. Like leeches. But leeches are the better creatures. At least they suck on your blood and consume it for their being. Betrayers suck on your blood and smear it all over other people and tell them it's you who did the dirty job. Betrayers want to make themselves look good. And get the fingers pointed at you.

But there must be a reason why I am a magnet. And that I want to know. What do I do wrong, where must I change, what must I do, how do I do it. How do I un-magnet myself. And be able to tell between the leeches and the betrayers. Am I a mean person that these are forms of paybacks? Or am I too trusting and too giving that they take me for a fool? I want to know because I need to be a better person. To be able to defend myself from being hurt over and over again, so that I don't feel that I never learn.

:(

Fasting, Respect and Me

Today I fast - I fast from my anger, from allowing it to take control of me. As much as I want to succumb to its raging fire, I also want to see the outcome of me trying to be patient. But I can tell you this much, it's just as tiring as fasting in Ramadhan.

I am a person who speaks my mind. I don't really care whose toes I step on. I don't like it, I say it. I like it, I mean it. And when my pride is hurt, I yell.

But in a typical Malay environment, a person like me is not welcomed. Malays generally do not welcome criticism especially those that address their personalities, their actions, their likings. I admit somewhat I am a Malay, being that I take a few moments to fully accept critics. From the moment of criticism to the point of full acceptance, the one thing that I mainly deal is the feeling of flushes on my cheeks. When the warmth subsides, I know I'm composed enough to either rebut or to acknowledge the comments. I'm trying to be different, trying to be a non-typical typical Malay.

I also do not suck up, kiss-ass or throw unintended praises.

Again, my positive attitude is a no-no for the Malays. If you don't suck up, you don't get to go up. If you don't agree, you don't get to see that extra bonus in your payslip. It sucks BIG time!

But what frustrates me most is that the leader of the suck-up pact is the newly appointed second highest person in the organization. A man so desperate to get votes (I never know I starred in American Idol all these while...) he'd stop at nothing. He'd come up with the wierdest of reasons for not approving a sports event - when in actual fact, I'd say to win support and to get to know your subordinates is from minggling with them outside of the office hours. These would be the time when true personalities come out. He'd give a mind-boggling reason for not approving anything - like, the PM training I requested for myself is "too deep" for me! Maybe I should request for a clerical training instead????

OK... OK... I admit. That's what the whole anger is about... My training was labelled as "too deep" for me. Like, duuhhhh!!! He must think that taking MBA classes put him levels higher than the rest of us! The thing here is class, man! If you ain't got class, you ain't got it at all! Huh, there goes... in split second my intonation changes.

Taking deep breath now... Cooling down... I'm fasting... from my anger...

So here I am, swallowing my pride and keeping quiet. He can think I'm shallow - he who thinks others are shallow is shallower than the shallowest stream. He can think I'm obliging - he will see a master rebel in the making. He can downgrade, humiliate, underestimate. But he can never get one thing from me ever - R.E.S.P.E.C.T. (even if I am the shallowest, tiniest, most insignificant being on earth).

"Too deep"... asshole...

(susah betul nak sabar ni....)

Nauseated...

I can't help but feel sick over the game the politicians in Perak are playing. Do they think that we the rakyats are that dumb? Let the high court decide and suddenly appeal and get to rule the state again?

I mean, like... can't they just accept the ruling? Why bother to appeal? And why say things that nauseate people? It's just simply sickening!

And I thought the mastermind is behind all these? Where is the mastermind? I thought he commented negatively yesterday... why is he quiet today?

I was hoping that Najib doesn't do much of things like his recent predecessor, but I hoped too soon. I should have known that anything from the same mould would come out the same shape. Fruits from the same tree taste the same...

It's like having no air to breathe now... suffocating... nauseating... disgusting!

But to top it all - humiliating!

:P

Yet Another Half An Hour

Just like the past few working days, this morning I stared blankly into the wardrobe. Amidst the hanging blouses, shirts and what-nots, I couldn't decide on anything to wear to work today. Not enough with flipping thru my mental catalogue of possible outfit, I flipped thru each and every one slowly allowing my fingers to feel the material.

"Nope." With a sigh, I walked out of the room leaving the wardrobe door open wide.

I opened the closet where I keep all my baju kurungs. Again, mental catalogue against actual look and feel. Why oh why has it come to this? It's so difficult to decide on what to wear! Maybe I should train for a six-pack so that I don't get too embarrassed if I decide to go to the office with bikini top and a piece of sarong. :P

The torture of making the simplest of decisions.

When I finally walked out of the house, I was greeted by Auntie K.

Auntie K: Why so late?

Me: Didn't know what to wear.

Auntie K: Who?

Me: Me.

Auntie K: Why, where are you going?

Me: Nowhere, just the office. (By now I already have a shameful smirk on me.)

Auntie K: That's why!

Hahahhahahahahhaha.... Oh well, I'm so going to miss your witty responses, Auntie K! But only if you know tough a decision it was to even pick this simple red baju kurung.

Maybe I need a wardrobe change. Maybe I need a new zest. Maybe I need to not pick what to wear to work. Maybe I don't need to work... :P

Oh well.

Happy Mother's Day!

Did I tell you that I grew up rebellious?

Well, actually in my standard, I was. Until I discovered what other rebellious activities kids my age then had been doing. But that's beside the point.

Anyway, I was always one who wasn't very happy with my mom. She had been a full time housewife and was able to monitor me 24/7. Unlike most girls in my class then, I was to come home on time and had difficult times convincing her that I had to stay back for extra-curricular activities in school. Yes, they really were extra-curricular activities! Boys were out of reach for me then. Since I only preferred boys from one particular school, my controlled social life didn't help much in knowing boys other than those I got to meet during Interact Club installations. :P

When I got into college, it was a new-found freedom. I managed to escape nags, only to get some when I come back for holidays. Still I wanted to stay away from my mom as much as possible; I felt like I was always picked on by her (but there was only 2 of us, so it was either my sister or me....).

More freedom soon after.Life in the States cum getting married albeit a very young age. My mom was a distant figure I still wanted to run away from.

Came back to motherland, started my own family and became a mother myself. Still had that love-hate relationship with her. Probably it wasn't a one-sided feeling. I now think she too had a difficult time dealing with a daughter gone too soon.

But the whole love-hate relationship changed in 2001. And that fateful day is etched on my memory like ancient paintings on old cave walls.

It was Sofya's funeral. I remember my mom was sitting on the stairs of my grandmother's split level kampung house. She had tears in her eyes. When she felt my presence, she looked up and said "Sampai hati tak bagitau Sofya dah tak de." At that moment I realized, that my mom had been sharing my burden of pain without me even knowing it. She was feeling my pain, when I thought I was all alone. She suffered, because I, her daughter, was suffering. Then, and only then, I realized, that my mom loves me.

It took me to lose a child to realize that my mother has all the love for me. It took me pain upon pain to understand that no matter how far I ran or how much I tried to disassociate myself from her, she will always be my mother. It doesn't matter how much pain I caused her, or how much anger I created, she'll always be the one woman who'd be by my side supporting me without even me having to ask. It doesn't matter how many tears have fallen on her cheeks just because I hurt her by not being home often enough, or how lonely she feels because her granddaughters weren't around long enough, she'll always be the one ever willing to take me in suitcases and all.

But it's a pity that through all these, I still am not able to tell her how much I love her or how much I need her to be around through the thins of my life. It's sad that I don't feel my gestures come out loving enough, or that I've been around enough, to tell her that she has been the one person who contributed most to who I am today.

She has been my rock, well, half-rock (but I'll talk of the other half rock on Father's Day. :D)

I wish it was easier for me to say this in person - I love you, Ma! Thank you for being there for me through the worst times of my life, for praying for me and having faith in me when I have no faith left in myself. Thank you for being the stubborn person that you are, because I think I am just as hard-headed and being hard-headed has made me a stronger person to endure all kinds of weather. Thank you for being silent when silence is the best piece of advice you can give me. Thank you for nagging me even when I thought being 30-something would elude me from feeling like a kid being scolded. Thank you for waking me up every schooling day, for I can never wish for any other voice to wake up to in the darkest hour. Thank you, Ma, for just being there...

I so love you...

Happy Mother's Day...

:'(

Home Sweet Home

I was pleasantly surprised to find Uncle B standing on my front porch, all perched up by the wall dividing our porch with Uncle L's, deeply engrossed in discussion with Uncle L. I politely smiled, got into Blue and quietly started the engine. They didn't bat an eyelid at me.

When I reached home 5 minutes later, they were still there.

And they were talking about politics - specifically PAS and UMNO.

During the last general election, I had the impression that Uncle L is a loyal MCA supporter. I never spoke of politics with Uncle B, but now I am under the impression that he is a staunch supporter of PAS.

And here I am, right smack in between, with a Malaysian flag hanging from my house grille 24/7 365. No political affiliation, yet a radical commentator of the political situation.

But not until lately. Honestly, I purposely stayed off any political news of late. They either nauseate me, make me sleepy or make me want to start my engine and go hit the politicians' heads. I believe the nausea started around the time when UMNO was to pick their candidates for the new helm. The pictures, the backstabbing statements, the revealing information (or so-called), they all made my head spin worse than migrain!

Then came the actual convention. Splashes of UMNO reds were all over the newspapers; at first I felt that it was the Lunar New Year, but when the red lasted for nearly a week I realized it wasn't the Lunar New Year, but it was the Circus Convention. More pictures, more backstabbing statements, more uncalled-for advises... what an affair!

When the whole thing ended with Najib finally walking to his throne, I was already too numb to comment or to even feel dizzy. I was zombied. But then, like a zombie crucified and turned into an immortal, I was awakened by a front page picture. THE picture. It made me laugh because it made it all too obvious. That life in politics are all scripted, planned and orchestrated.

Which picture you ask me?

* Picture courtesy of NST.

Need I say more?

:P

Welcome to Indo-Toyota Land!

The last time I was here was 9 years ago. It was right before the Hyatt was bombed destroying partial of the hotel building. It was an alien place to me, but then again, tell me one person who doesn't feel like an alien on the first visit anywhere! Heck, I felt like an alien the first time I was in Langkawi! :P

Anyway, after 9 years, Jakarta has definitely changed so much! There are now modern buildings everywhere on the stretch of its main roads. What used to be squatter areas are now turned into high class shopping malls. It's like Tinkerbell's magic wand has been working for the past 9 years, turning everything in its path into something of the latest architectural design and of higher cost than the previous.

But the one thing so glaring that I can't help but notice is - Toyota has dominated the city! Toyota Avanza is undeniably one of the most favorable model here, paired by Xenia - a model carrying the Daihatsu emblem. One shouldn't be too surprised on the similarity between Toyota Avanza and Daihatsu Xenia; the two automotive companies are, after all, sister companies. Then there's Vios, obviously being the top choice for taxis. Rush and Fortuner also roam the city like ghosts in ghost towns.

A friend commented "Oh, you own one and now you're proud la your car is everywhere there!". Hmmm... the very least actually... Makes me feel like a conformer, despite the fact that Blue is one of the first 1000 Avanza in Malaysia. But hey, no one cares about that fact!

Don't get me wrong, I love Blue to bits.

But hey, better than having Blue's siblings as taxis! :P

Anyway, that particular observation have had me coined the term 'the Indo-Toyota land' for Jakarta. No offence, Toyota! I know you profit well here. Bravo!

:D

(And as a Toyota owner, I too know the reason why Avanza and Vios are abundance in Jakarta. Just so you don't go and give me a lengthy explanation. :P)

My Essay for PSDC's Interview

When the world's economic situation started to show signs of its crumbling down in 2008, I was scared of my own financial stability. After having a stable income for almost 11 years, one could not resist having more assets, which translates to piling on more credit to one's name. Having been a victim of Soro's doing in 1998, the words 'retrenchment', 'termination' and 'out-of-job' are those I would like to elude at this point of time.

Towards the end of 2008, the then Deputy Prime Minister, Datuk Seri Najib Tun Abd Razak announced a stimulus package for the country. I was very sceptical. How can we maintain ourselves, when the whole world is shrinking? News upon news, printed and broadcasted, were talking of companies closing down, moving out or reporting loss. And Malaysia believes that it can sustain through this test of time? I wasn't sure.

Not until early 2009.

Then I saw it working. What the Deputy Prime Minister had promised the 'rakyat' was slowly showing its result. I, for one, started to see brand new cars with sparkling new registration numbers. And not only local cars, but imported ones too. So the 'rakyat' have started spending, slowly but surely.

What I learnt in Economics 101 was, spending will help in easing a country's recession. The more the people spend, the more the currency circles, prices become more volatile, more demand thus encouraging more supply, and before you know it, the economy is no longer in a recession.

But it's definitely easier said that done. And I think Malaysia has a long way to go in defending itself against this stormy weather. Food prices need to go down, as food and groceries are the main expenditure in any household. Petrol price need to stay stagnant, as any increment would justify food suppliers' taking advantage of the situation. The move to lower EPF contribution has helped many, including myself, to have a small spare cash. But what good would the spare cash do to the economy if most decide to just put it in the piggy bank?

There's much to be done.

But if I'm asked what do I think of the 2009 economic outlook, I'd say Malaysia will do fair. (Though honestly I think the whole world will still be scrambling and grasping and trying to breathe.)

:)

Welcome Home, White!

It was an accident. Yes, it was! The silly me had put White on the floor thinking that it would be the safest place from accidental step-ons.

But what I was not aware of was, how forgetful I can be at times.

So one morning as I got out of bed, crrrr-aaaaaa---cccc--kkkk... the sound went in a split second. I hardly remembered what it was. Darn! But the sound was so soft that I didn't think the damage would cause a big dent in my pocket!

I quickly stashed White in its usual place.

That was on Monday. And I totally forgot of the incident.

Come Friday. My heart screamed the moment I saw moss-like liquid-thingy hovering the cracks on White. What is that? Then I remembered...

The soft sound!

My heart stumped. It's dishearting enough to discover that this month's expenses has been blown out of proportion, what's more to know I have to get White's screen replaced. Such a silly mistake!

A quick call to Acer Hotline punched more holes in my vital-blood-punping-organ. RM700 max for a teeny-weeny screen? I wished my heart just stopped and I'd fall to die that instant.

Rushing to the service center in Times Square did not do me any good either. I was told to go to Subang if I need to get White fixed quickly. More days to stare at my silli-ness. More regrets to swallow. More pain to bare... *sigh*

The following Monday I sent White in. Feeling rather empty and lost, I was praying that White would come home safely soon enough before my travels. The service guy was pretty darn cold, making me feel even more dumb for thinking I'd never do such damage. No promises on the figures I will need to fork out, nor on the date I'd get White back. I left the place feeling all down and regretful.

The next afternoon, the service center called. A kind and polite lady slowly broke it to me that White's surgery would cost me RM400. Do I want to proceed, she softly asked. "Oh yes, of course!" I replied.

The following morning, another lady called. Not as kind and soft as the previous one, but still as pleasant. White is ready, she told me. And I was all smiles.

When I held White again in my hand, I promised no more silly mistakes.

Welcome home, White! I missed you!

:)

Twilight

When Twilight was premiered, I saw many of my girlfriends going ga-ga over the movie. Being a person who tries not to watch too many lovey dovey movies despite being an all-time hopeless romantic, I raised my eyebrows when Twilight was in the list of to-see movies prepared by the other half.

What's so great, I asked myself. It's fictitious - yeah, like vampires really do exist and live like other mortals, my sceptic alter-ego lamented.

But my scepticism quickly hid itself away the moment the main character, Edward, said this to his love, Bella - "You are my life."

At that, my heart stopped and my whole body stalled. I was into the moment. It was such a beautiful thing to have been said by an immortal who cares none about life - he has it in abundance! But for him to make a mortal his life... there's nothing more sweeter! *sigh* (Bear with me people, I know some of my friends are laughing on the floor reading this!)

That line got me. I wasn't breathing since Edward said it to Bella. I was engulfed by my hopelessly romantic alter-ego, wondering why Edward-kind of vampires have never existed in my life! A hopelessly romantic vampire, driving a super cool sporty Volks "and handsome plak tu!" (that particular phrase was added by my by now-obviously-jealous-movie-watching partner).

Why oh why? Maybe my blood isn't as sweet as Bella's, contaminated by the conquer-e-wak in me, spoilt by my control-freak alter-ego, smudged with my short-tempered DNA. *sigh*

But what really made my heart stopped for close to a minute was when Edward softly kissed Bella's neck, lifted up his head, smiled and said to Bella "Is it not enough to have a long and happy lifetime with me?"

*SIGH*

(go on! laugh at me as you wish! :P)

A Satisfied Customer

So you now know I am a dissatisfied-ever-fretting ex-customer of Maxis.

The fateful morning of 8 February 2009 saw me all excited and nervous when I received these SMSes after my usual morning walk:

'Your line is about to be activated on the DiGi network. Please replace your SIM card with your new DiGi SIM card as soon as your current line stops working.'

Knowing I had some amount left in my 9 years old Maxis Hotlink line, I frantically texted a number of friends just to use up the prepaid credit. I had about 15 minutes of frantic-texting when my Maxis line suddenly stalled and Stealth had 'No Line' icon shouting at my face.

Excited and nervous at the same time, I carefully peeled off the new Digi sim that was delivered to me a week earlier. I was excited at the thought of telling friends my 012 is now a Digi number; nervous as I still wasn't sure if my switch was due to my anger with the provider or if I was doing the right thing as all my frequent SMS buddies (dear daddy and sister inclusive) are all on Maxis.

New yellow sim card in place, I switched on dear faithful Stealth.

And I was welcomed by:

'Congratulations! Your switch to DiGi is now complete. We look forward to serving you. For further assistance, please call 016 2211800 at any time.'

Followed by another:

'Welcome to DiGi! This mobile number is successfully registered.'

I felt bittersweet. Questions upon questions came to my mind - How do I top now? Do I get automated top-up? Do I get to do my transactions online?

You see, with Maxis for the last 8 years, I was able to top-up via it's IVR, credited directly to my mastercard. And the call to the IVR was free. But it was the problem with the IVR was the main reason why I had the grudge with Maxis, as every so often when my card expired, I had to physically visit a Maxis center and fill up my details and it would take days (sometimes weeks) for it to get updated, and as you may well know me, I am not much of giving patience where patience is not due.

The last straw was when Maxis KLCC took more than 3 weeks to get my card details updated. That provoked the switch.

So now I'm a Digi customer. Being a conquerewak that I am, I explored my options. And I was stumped.

If I could top-up via IVR with Maxis, I have 3 methods to do so with Digi. I could have auto top-up - my line is automatically topped with my predefined amount when my balance reaches a certain threshold; I could use SMS top-up - I text to Digi and it'll do the rest; or I could choose to do it online via web.

Talking of web. I'm not much of a yellow person, but Digi's website is none I want to stay away from. And oh, it's OCR - Online Customer Relationship - I tell you, Hotlink kalah big time!!!
But I wanna tell you what made me happy since that fateful morning, especially when I first received this text:

'Super SMS : You have spent RM0.50 on SMS today. All your SMS to DiGi are now free for the rest of the day!'

Hallo!!! I probably text for 1 sen on Maxis to Maxis, but who can top FOC Digi to Digi? (ok...ok... Umobile has that too but hey, Digi's coverage is even wider!)

So, c'mon people! Those on 016 text me, I text you back for free!!

:D

Telcos and Me

I have always been a tough customer. I guess I picked it up from my other half who used to deal with the telco companies when we were in the States.

See, about 14 years ago, American telcos would steal customers from their competitors, sometimes without the consent of the customers. Often times, we'd be surprised by bills from these carriers, trying to remember when was it that we had agree to switch.

I'm sure my American graduates alumni friends would smile at this reminiscence.

Sometimes, the logo on the bill would not surprise us, but the charges printed in black and while would make us stare at the printed paper in much disbelief. We may have agreed to the switch, but we never agreed to the charges. Matter of fact, we were promised sugar-coated charges - unbelievable low rates, special rates for frequent numbers and some other sweet rates promises the telco (or the phone-marketeer) can think of at that moment of time.

Some of us would engage in arguments when we call to verify the charges, resorting to 'I want to speak to your supervisor' if we couldn't get what we wanted out of the telcos.

There'd be also times when we'd receive calls trying to lure us back to the other telco when we've switched.

Talk of luring... I was hoping i'd get some from Maxis when I switched to Digi some months back. I was waiting and hoping that all those emails and verbal complaints would make them feel obligated to at least give me a courtesy call to find out if i'd switch back to them. But no, all I had that morning of sheer-Maxis-disgust was:

"We acknowledge your request to move. Thank you for being with Maxis and we hope to serve you again in the future. For further queries, please call 1800 821 123."

Thank you, my foot! The 9 yrs I had with Maxis was not rewarded in any way. Oh, I take that back. I was rewarded - a 20 free sms. But only applicable for Maxis to Maxis smses. Err, can I add that at that point of time, my Maxis to Maxis smses only costed me 1 sen each? Which meant, I was rewarded handsomely for 20 sen over the period of 9 years. Bravo, Maxis.

:p

A Simple Management Theory

I got this from Aziz Ahmad in one of my chat sessions with him in the PPP library those days when he was the President of IUSC.

I call it Aziz's Simple Management Theory.

Imagine this: a group of building contractors doing handy work on the ground floor of a skeletal building. Their supervisor perches on the first floor looking down on his working contractors. He sees how each and every one of them perform their work, some nailing, some sanding, some work in pairs taking in planks and boards for the contruction. He sees how the contractors interact with each other; he acknowledges those who have leadership abilities, and those who are better at following than at leading. He notices those who comments a tad too much on his peers' work yet not delivering his tasks any better. He takes notes on those needing guidance, and makes sure that they are assigned mentors to help enhance their skills. In short, he notices and recognizes the skills and personality of each and every one of them.

But when he is analyzing them, all are very occupied with their work. None looked up to see what the supervisor was doing while the rest of them were working. None took the time to glance if the supervisor was nodding off or if he was daydreaming.

After a while, the supervisor gets a little tired, and decides to take a break. He stretches and relaxes his back, and looks at a few birds flying afar. He thinks of dinner and what would be nice to relieve his hunger. It was at that moment, one of his subordinates looks up and sees the supervisor dreaming away. The contractor thinks "And that is what he has been doing all day when all of us down here work our arses off!". The contractor gets angry, and during break time, tells some of his peers what he saw and got some of them to be as angry as he is.

The story did not end there, but I'm sure most of us can relate much to it and come up with similar endings.

It means to relate that most staff are not able to see what the management does because they are too occupied with their tasks and assignments. Unfortunately, the time when they do see the management is when the management is fooling around and relaxing thus making the staff believe that the only thing that managements does is having fun.

It is so unfortunate that it is so true. Whether we are still a "kuh-li" given the task to lead our peers, or if we are outrightly part of the management team.

The only way is to give the staff a try at sitting in as a leader. Give him/her a hands-on experience at dealing with his/her kind.

That is, if you are willing to risk a failed project to add to the organization's name.

:D

Confession of A Person with Too Much Comments

Yes, yes... I admit I speak too much sometimes. I always have comments and I always find flaws in everything and anything that others do.

Especially when it comes to managing people's expectation, staff or project.

Because I always sit on this side and not that. Like the saying - easier said than done.

Because my projects have always consisted of me, me and me. (And a clerk to help with documentation and heavy lifting tasks.)

Because I deal directly with the big boss.

So this is my first. To prove my point and to practise what I preach. To not do those mistakes I pointed out.

But it's not easy. Yes, I, the one who talks so much and does so little, admit that managing a project is not easy. Every micro-angle needs to be analysed. I can't do what I used to do - on the spot decision, harsh rejection, spur of the moment bashing.

Because this time, I deal with human and not robots. Because human have varying understanding of matters, different perspectives. Because I am not the client. And they are not the contractors.

Those jargons from Human Relations 101 seem to line up and take turns to appear in the scene. Delegation. Done. Communication. Done. Empowerment. Done.

Opps, STOP! Back track. Empowerment. Review needed.

I learnt that empowerment creates sense of ownership that may contribute to the success of a project. But unmonitored empowerment may cause staff to take advantage and use the power to his/her own benefits. But if you empower, yet you monitor, what's the point of empowering?

The problem of managing a project alone is that you and only you are accountable and answerable for everything that you do. So to avoid scrutiny, ions have to be laid out, analyzed and carefully planned. Even the alternative plans are laid out in case of emergency.

The problem of managing a project alone is that your brain works 24/7. Even your dreams become your drawing board. You breathe, eat, drink, smell the project. You practically live your every day in it.

The problem of managing a project alone is that when you have to manage a group of people to do what you do best alone, you tend to want to see the picture all the time. Because working alone puts you constantly behind the wheel, you wonder where the wheel is and start to hallucinate a functional wheel.

One really has to make numerous stops to analyze the situation. To guide or to let them figure out on their own. To dictate or not to dictate. To get consensus or to veto.

Wow. What experience.

Sure will keep my mouth shut for a while.

Believe What You Read, Not!

I guess I may have stirred some emotions with my previous entry.

I'm elated!

See, I was actually experimenting with my writing. There was nothing interesting in politics, kids are still learning Maths and Science in English, weather has been swell, life seems mundane and I have nothing to write!

OK, I was feeling a bit low when I started writing. But hey, everyone has their low moments! So, why cuff me and put me in jail? Don't tell me you never feel sad even once in your life. You must be either thick-skinned or just plain robot.

When I got to the second part (after *sigh*), I felt a pang in my chest when I typed "I feel sad not knowing happiness". Then I thought, why not I give it a try and explain what sadness is. You can't blame a writer, can you? A writer needs a practise field, and my practise field is my blog. You think this is my diary? Snap out of it! And I am not writing my daily affairs, OK? If you need half-daily update on my life, read my Facebook status.

I don't paint beautiful pictures, I paint life's true feelings.

I don't fictionalize. All those feelings that I wrote were real. All feelings that I will write are real. My feelings as how I feel it. But I only write when I am in the moment. So those feelings were real at time of writing (or should I say, typing). Some were even long gone before I click the "Publish Post" button. So please erase the impression that I am having a sad life. I am living a life with all of its emotions in much abundance. I feel happy, I feel sad, I feel angry, I get excited. I am normal. So if you never feel happy, or sad, or angry, or know how pure absurd it feels for tripping on the side walk, then I suggest you enroll in Emo 101.

I am a writer. I write.

I take it to another level where I try to relate to you what I feel, in my own words. I elaborate where needed, I simplify where I should, I use repetitious tones to create emotions. I try different styles, different tones, different ways as and when I feel like it. I experiment with words, I turn nouns into verbs and toss in some irregularities like spice to the curry. But the rest is your creation. Trust me, I didn't make you feel sad when you read my entry on sadness. It's you, you did it to yourself!

See, your eyes capture the words on the screen and send them to your brain. The brain, in the fastest speed not described by men, analyzes, searches and matches those words with the emotions in your memory bank. The moment they match, signals are strewn all over your body and whether it likes it or not, it reacts exactly as how the words are supposed to feel as according to your dictionary defined by you. Your heart races, you palpitate, you salivate, your pupils dilate... All these in less than a nanosecond. And you say I'm the sad one? No, you are! I'm just the writer... :)

Gosh, written words are powerful.

So powerful that people believe what they read. And they believe it as how they want to believe it. No wonder people buy newspapers. I guess the rationale of newspapers is that you can read it over and over again and everytime you read it, you get a different understanding and that makes newspapers sell. People just want to re-believe what they read. :P

So next time you read anything, please don't take it at face value. It may be your brain deceiving you.

:D

P/S: I totally understand if you refuse to read my column in The Star (*wink* reading is believing).

In Pursuit of Happyness

Some time back in 2007, Will Smith produced a movie called "In Pursuit of Happyness". (The misspelling was intentional in the movie title - it was how the main character's son spelt it in the movie.)

The movie was about one man's hardship after his wife left him. Left with a young son, the man tried to make the best of what he had, but he could hardly make ends meet. When they got evicted from their home, they slept in shelters with other homeless. When they had no luck and all the shelters were full, they had to sleep in toilets and wake up early the next day so that no one saw them sleeping there.

The movie portrayed a father's determination to give a form of happiness to his child when he himself was at times overwhelmed by self-pity, sadness and helplessness. It was a very emotional movie. It made me cry.

So I ask what is happiness? How does it look like? How does it feel? Many say that happiness is within us. Some say happiness is all around us. Others would say happiness is subjective to each and every one of us.

But none would explain how to tell the existence of happiness. Is it in a smile? (I can fake a happy smile.) Is it in the voice? (I can perk up in an instant and no one can tell that I am not happy.) Is it in the face? Is it in the voice? No one can tell.

How does happiness look like? In what form does it come to us? Does it look like a train? A tree? Is it green? Or is it blue? Or is it as beautiful as the rainbow after an evening rain? Does it come in the form of paper money? Luxury cars? Maybe mansions?

How long does happiness last? Does it last forever? Or is it for a while? When you feel sad in between happiness, does it mean you're not totally happy? I wonder.

Where does happiness reside? In the heart? Nonsense. A heart is just an organ pumping blood thru the body. But why does it feel good in the chest after a laugh with friends or after a deep long kiss with the love of your life? Does happiness lodge in the brain? But the brain certainly doesn't feel any lighter when given the keys to your dream car. It feels blank, yes. But not lighter.

Where can we find happiness? But how can we tell it's happiness when we don't know what it is, how it looks like or in what form it exists?

Is it possible that we are staring happiness right in the eye and yet not knowing that it's it?

*sigh*

Makes me feel sad not knowing what happiness is. I know sadness tho - it feels like thousands of tiny invisible needles pricking the inner mass of the chest. It hurts so much that sometimes you can hear your heartbeat skip to bear the pain. Sometimes, the inner chest feels tugged and pulled like a child tugging the end of your dress. And there are times when the tugging is so strong, it mimics a sharp knife stabbing swiftly right thru the chest. Simultaneous with the stab, the eyes feel like they are stamped with hot irons and tears immediately and uncontrollably well up and eventually fall on the cheeks.

And the whole body feels lifeless, helpless and heavy.

Sometimes sadness will fade away after a good long sob. Sometimes it lingers around for days, at times months, and if you're lucky - years.

And you will know when sadness hit you. It's like walking thru a dark cloud; you'll suffocate and choke the instant you breathe sadness in.

Sadness doesn't have any shape; it's not visible to men nor women. It moves like the breeze of the ocean: soft, silky and smooth.

I too know where sadness resides. It's present address is everywhere in the past - every corner, every milestone, every memory that is etched in your memory box. It lurks around pictures, scents and sights. It loves hospitals, cars, previous houses you stayed in, everything. Sometimes sadness feels cheeky and become the shadow of someone you love, following that someone and causing his/her presence turn you all heavy and hurtful.

And I too know that sadness has its allies - anger, resentment, despise, hatred. Most times they work subtly and unnoticeably alongside sadness. But mostly, sadness works alone. Only that it hurts even more with the presence of fantastic 4.

Wonder why I can describe sadness in such detail.

Maybe it's time I pursue happiness...

Stepping into 2009...

Can't help but feel melancholic stepping into 2009. Just a couple of days ago, I felt the same way after listening to the imam at Masjid Negara citing the awal muharam du'a.

Part of me says it's just another day. Just a change of date, nothing more. Life goes on as it has always been. But another part of me says it's not. It's a new book, new appraisal but I don't seem to have a new attitude for the new year. As a matter of fact, I don't have the strength to go thru the same things again in 2009.

Maybe I need to berhijrah myself. Not just emotionally, but also physically.

Start a new leaf.

But it's easier said than done for me. Guess I have to stick up and go thru another year of dragging my feet along while hoping for the skies to stay clear for the rays to come thru.

*sigh*