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
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
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
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
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
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
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
Friday, June 12, 2009
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
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
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
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
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
Sunday, May 31, 2009
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.
:(
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.
:(
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
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....)
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....)
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
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
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
Monday, May 11, 2009
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.
"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...
:'(
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...
:'(
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)