Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Lessons of 2008

In about one hour's time, the curtain will come down on 2008. As the new year looms very close, I am inadvertently reminded that I will be adding another year to my age.

With it will come out sprouting more strands of silver hair and cracking more fine lines under my eyes. My husband and I often wonder from where we had summoned the energy to walk all over the places in the sweltering heat of KL in our '20s. I chalk it up mainly to our higher metabolism and wide-eyed enthusiasm. I don't even think I sweat in those days; nowadays I sweat buckets!

Lack of personal transport, we often relied on the Kommuter, taxis and the LRT to bring us to places of interest, usually mall-oriented. Now, we can't imagine how we would survive without a car. Especially with a restless toddler in tow.

So what has happened in a year?

There were several events that had caused me to reflect and reassess some long-term goals. And there were the vacations that soothed the nerves and salved the soul. Oh yeah, how can I forget - the news of me expecting again was the icing on the cake of a very interesting year.

Most of all, there were the lessons that had come to pass. Here they are:

(1) After reaching a certain age, some people are so entrenched in their thinking, attitude and beliefs that it defies any sort of reasoning to change them.

(2) Never ever take for granted the kindness of others. What goes around comes around.

(3) People surprise you when you least expect it. They can turn out to be nicer than you have otherwise preconceived.

(4) Friendships come in the unexpected forms and shapes. They're your picker-upper in life.

(5) Sometimes friends disappoint you when you expect a bigger mileage than they could be able to muster, but you learn to let go and cut them some slack.

(6) No matter how rough things get with your siblings, you learn to forgive them. Blood is indeed thicker than water.

(7) Never boast or swagger your so-called talent, physical attributes, mental dexterity and so on. It can be taken away from you, in ways unimaginable.

(8) Try developing a keen foresight to differentiate those who genuinely want to befriend you and those who are eager to discover your Achilles Heel.

(9) Sometimes it's better to shut your mouth than to start another round of petty argument.

(10) A hug from loved ones - toddler included - does a world of wonders.

It's almost midnight, so I bid you a beautiful 2009 ahead and may the year's lessons bring with us more courage, wisdom and happiness. Grey hair, wrinkles and all.

Monday, December 29, 2008

Village Memoir

Pseudo-Kelantanese. If you look under my profile description, you will see the abovementioned word which I had selected to address my father. Some might even wonder as to why I had used the word pseudo.

Well, the reason can be traced back to this snippet of history. My dad's family had settled in the topmost part of Terengganu that borders the state of Kelantan. Kuala Besut is the proud name. It is inextricably linked to another small town called Jerteh.

Growing up, I was baffled by my dad's native tongue of Kelantanese whereas he is a fellow Terengganuan by birth. I have forgotten who had narrated me the story, but the person essentially concluded that Kuala Besut was once under the rule of a Kelantanese sultanate. However, as part of a war concession, the Besut area was handed over to the Terengganu ruler at the time.

As a gullible kid, I was wholly convinced this was the gospel truth as it conveniently explained why my father's family speak Kelantanese. For all I know, it could be due solely to its close proximity to Kelantan which naturally led to intermarriages among these folks as a result of extensive trade and travel. Whatever the truth is, I have labelled my dad as such, as exemplified by their unique bilingual existence in Kuala Terengganu.

As expected in those 'prosperous' days, my father lived with nine other siblings and his parents within the confines of a small wooden house. There were each five boys and girls. Dad was number seven. The lucky seven who was the first in the family to enroll into the elite boy school at Kuala Kangsar.

In the '40s and '50s, life was hard for the Kampung folks in the backwater of Terengganu and Kelantan. My father recounted many times how they ate rice mixed with coarse salt which had been fried on the open fire. Sometimes, they even had to do without rice and survived on tapioca as a daily staple.

This agrarian, hand-to-mouth kind of living compelled my dad to strive harder for a better life for him and his family. After coming into money, he initiated a renovation plan for his childhood home and even extended the length of the house. The refurbishment included running water in the house as opposed to constantly relying on the well for cooking, washing and bathing. At one point, he even put the Astro cable channel in the house which unfortunately attracted some unwanted freeloaders into the domain.

My memory of the idyllic Kampung remains sketchy at best, in the form of grainy snapshots of my annual, if not biannual, visits to the East Coast. One visit that forever stands out in my head is the school holiday during which all of Tok's (Tok is my paternal grandmother) children (save for the youngest one studying in the UK) congregated with their families back home and we spent the next few days getting in each other's hair, so to speak. The reunion cum vacation culminated in a road trip to the nearest beach - about an hour's drive in those days - for a picnic and fun in the sun. No older than nine years old, I remember being so happy, surrounded by and played with many cousins from near and far.

Other unforgettable moments include the times when leeches clung to my legs, tiptoeing to the toilet area in the middle of the night lest I would bump into something slithery, adjusting to the cold yet refreshing water of the well, taking turns with my sisters cycling the neighbour's becha (trishaw) and the seemingly endless supply of pulut lepa, nasi dagang and laksam for breakfast.

Save for his youngest sister, my father was not particularly close to his string of siblings, due either to the age gap or diverging interests and priorities in life. By the time he went to the residential school, most of his older siblings were already married and having kids. The time spent in a boarding school and later to New Zealand for his tertiary studies only further drifted him apart from his siblings.

Except for the occasional stays by some cousins at our home during the school holidays, I am afraid I have not formed a lasting bond with any of them. The simple pleasures of our childhood were replaced with adolescent pangs and academic pursuits. Later on, some misunderstanding and mistreatment had persuaded me to evaluate the durability of some paternal relations. In a way, our weak friendships inevitably follow the same path as my dad's.

Coupled with the fact that people generally understand Bahasa Malaysia (the medium of language used in schools) and the infrequent visits up north, I am not able to converse in Kelantanese as well as one would hope for. I never have the motivation, nor the proper agenda to proceed with. My mother knows a smattering of Kelantanese after countless exposures to the family, especially during my dad's brief RTM attachment in Kota Bharu in the late '70s. I do recall the time when my elderly aunt - one of dad's sisters - and her daughter were joshing with my mother about the foreign quality of her Kelantanese. In other words, people can tell she is an outsider. Still, everyone admires her for the brave attempt and effort to learn. At least, that was the impression I had gotten.

After my grandmother's untimely demise in 1997, I had only gone back to Kampung twice - one for a Kenduri (Feast) in conjunction with Korban (the rites of slaughtering animals) during Eidul-Adha celebration and the other due to the sudden death of my aunt in Pasir Puteh. During this time, we also had to accompany our mom for a dialysis session in Besut Hospital. The absence of Tok, the pivotal figure and the 'glue' to whom everybody gravitates to, left a huge chasm in the already shaky familial bond. There were no more plans of a grand reunion now that she had passed away.

On a macabre note, eleven years after her passing, five of her children have joined her with the most recent one being her second oldest son - Ayah Ngah - during Raya this year. Now there remain only four of them, including my dad (the eldest son had passed away before Tok).

Eight years have gone since I last stepped foot on Jerteh soil. When my late uncle was around, he was the 'unofficial' caretaker of my Tok's house. I don't know what has since happened to the abode, or whether it is still standing at the same spot. Whatever fate that has befallen the place, my recollections of Kampung, however hazy, linger and would last me a lifetime.

Monday, December 22, 2008

A Day in the Life of a Twin


Na, Sadia and me in Borders' Starbucks, The Gardens, in late January this year

I will try to keep this one short and spare readers of a blow-by-blow account of my life. :) That's what happened when you're writing on the computer, instead of the paper, and in a rush to finish.


As wont, like an annual tradition, I would write a post with respect to my birthday and this year is no different. (However, this year I am a day late)

People always ask me about the special, almost magical properties of being part of a twin. "Are you guys telepathic?" is one of the frequently asked questions.

As much as I would like to believe that is the eerie case, I would have to say No. At least some of the time. On the other hand, there have been instances in which similar incidences happen to us. Once, when we were in Standard Five (that would be 11 years old to the uninitiated), the tiny eraser on the back of a mechanical pencil stuck inside one of my twin's nostrils. Luckily, my mother managed to fish the thing out of her crevice. Less than a week later, it was my turn to get the eraser into my nostril by accident and I had to be rushed to the clinic as the eraser had stubbornly lodged inside the hole!

Some skeptics might attribute this incident as our ploy to get our mom's attention, but believe me, shoving a teeny ball of eraser into one's nostril was not worth the risk. We were just a curious (and naughty) lot, my twin and I. We even let the kid from our nextdoor neighbour cut our hair once because we were playing barber. My mother went ballistic with the badly-shorn haircut and was more angry at the neighbour for letting her daughter clip our curly locks.

Numerous other cases point to this weird, double-trouble phenomenon such as our two forehead injuries and subsequent scars, the loss of handbags and other material goods, car accidents and so forth. Coincidence? I doubly hope so.

As for the persistently (if not downright grating) obvious question as to how it feels to be a twin, honestly speaking, I do not know how to answer that one. Having lived XX years of my life as a twin, I lack the experience that goes with the territory of being a 'single unit'. People tend to compare us on every imaginable level - I guess it is part of human nature to respond accordingly when they find something remotely identical. I liken it to a game of 'Spot the difference' between two deceivingly similar pictures.

Initially, I confess that I have resented the comparisons being made either in an outward fashion or inwardly in their head. Therein lies the fervent wish to become a so-called 'individual'. However, forgetting that every aspect of our lives is up for comparison - siblings, friends, colleagues, material possessions, etc - I changed my mind.

I decided, let them compare. I am my own person. Love me or hate me, purely based on this alone. You don't owe me anything just because you know my twin sister. And vice-versa. Yet, common decency dictates that some civility shall prevail, whether or not you like the other half.

I once gave a rare, unexpected answer to the inevitable question, "It must be nice to have a twin, right?" I intoned "Yes, especially if you don't like the person, you can pretend to be the other twin." That shut his trap for good. You wouldn't expect that kind of answer from my twin though - I'd say she's more diplomatic dealing with people in general. At least, those outside the family. Haha.

As for me, I had to brush up on my people skills. Fortunately, aging and marriage have taught me a thing or two about tact and niceties.

Admittedly, being competitive by nature (there I have said it!) has relegated making comparison with my twin sister a second nature. It can be done outrightly or subconsciously, but the sad truth is it would not take me anywhere. This line of thinking will only weigh me down.

I am glad that I have since taken the high road and cast the insecurities away. Cliche as it may sound, I have realised that I must be happy with who I am and stop benchmarking myself to others. Sure, I might relapse some time, but as long as I don't dwell in the abyss, I will be mighty fine.

Back to the eerie front, both my twin and I were sick on our birthday yesterday - alright, you can blame it on the cold season - and unbeknownst to us, wanted to eat at Victoria Station for our special day. Never underestimate the telepathic twin powers! *Cue Twilight Zone music*

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Break Away!

(Written on Wednesday, here and there)

A line of leafy trees and a secondary line of coconut trees obscure the view from my hotel's expansive window, enveloping me in safety against the prying eyes of stragglers or field workers below. It is, however, a different scenario altogether during the night and I must draw the heavy curtains together in order to preserve the sanctity of my cocoon, not to mention sparing passersby of an unflattering silhouette!

I have dwelled in this old (classic, if you may) hotel with an extensive golf course for the past four days and it is a welcome respite from the familiarity of home as I am the sort of person who loves a change in scenery once in a while. Though the comforts of a house are uppermost in mind, I am not exclusively a homebody and the wanderlust in me is always ready for an adventure. So when hubby told me of his corporate workshop, I jumped at the opportunity to leave the house. Sadia was also excited at the prospect of staying at a hotel and swimming in the pool. But, I could tell she was not prepared to have her dad away in the bargain.

Time had seemed to pass by quickly on Monday as I ran errands with my mother and Sadia. First, it was the pick-up at the hospital for which I was late since Sadia and I were frolicking in the pool when the incessant buzzing of the phone alerted me to a string of missed calls. She had completed her dialysis earlier than expected and I was nowhere prepared to rush to the hospital when Sadia had yet to be bathed and fed some food. I had only managed to arrive at SJMC at 2 pm, two hours after her session ended. I told my mom to let me know much earlier her estimated completion time lest a similar thing happened again (usually she finishes around 1 pm).

En route to Kota Damansara home, we dropped by the McD drive-thru (again? Bleargh!) on the NKVE highway for my quick bite. As predicted, the previously sleepy-eyed Sadia was wide awake upon seeing her cousins (my two sisters send their kids and maids to my mom's place during the weekday and my eldest sister's family was also there for the school holidays). So you can imagine the pandemonium that ensued in a house full of children.

Around 6 pm, I left the house with my mom and Sadia for Ikano Power Centre to buy some groceries and other essentials for the hotel stay. As Sadia fell asleep on the way there, we took the opportunity to indulge in some 'Rojak Buah' and dinner at Dome. After Sadia woke up from her kip, she demanded that we bought her an ice-cream cone before going home. With the legendary traffic on Persiaran Surian, we only entered the driveway at 9 pm - three hours after we left the house!

By the time I got to the hotel, it was already 9:30 pm and boy, was I knackered! Sadia wanted to see her PlayhouseDisney channel so badly that she asked me to open the website and we briefly played some games before Sadia got agitated with the slow Internet connection. I heaved a huge sigh of relief when hubby came back one hour after we came to the room.

My Monday was also aggravated by a wiggly tooth which moved back and forth whenever my tongue came into contact with it. The tooth - well, a remnant of a tooth, the last remaining wall of a molar on my left side - came loose sometime after we finished swimming. It was such a nuisance that I would find food to be unpalatable once it hit the tooth. When we fell asleep at night, I kept waking up from the tooth pain and decided to wriggle it bit by bit. After twice being awakened from my slumber, the tooth finally came off. Thankfully with only little blood. But a piece is still stuck at the base of the molar and I am contemplating if I should get it pull out. I had called the gynae earlier today for consultation, but he was on leave. Only tomorrow I would know if it is safe to extract.

Tuesday saw me lounging primarily at the hotel and enjoying the amenities (read: room service, bed and internet) to the max. Sadia refused to go swimming after she scraped one side of her leg on my parents' gravel driveway on Monday. We spent the time watching cartoon VCDs on her portable multi-player tv and looking at PlayhouseDisney website. Oh yeah, both Sadia and I were not feeling well on Tuesday, with Sadia being antsy and weepy towards the afternoon. I got some reprieve when she napped earlier AND longer than usual.

Apart from the sniffles, I think she misses her routine back home, having her favourite shows on at all hours and lounging with her OTHER customary toys. On the other hand, I immensely enjoy taking our stroll together after breakfast around the hotel's lush compound, alternately walking hand in hand and carrying her. Sadia became surprisingly quiet and well-behaved during these walks, unlike the rambunctious and hyper kid that she usually is. This was reminiscent of the Holland/Paris days when I lugged her around in the baby carrier while hubby attended classes. Those simpler, uncomplicated days.

I only drove out with Sadia later in the evening to check out what Ara Damansara has to offer and got lost as a result. Luckily, I succeeded in retracing my way back and arrive in the hotel to pick hubby up for a quiet dinner in Subang. We even went grocery shopping again. Since hubby had another session beginning at 9 pm, we were back in the room 15 minutes before. However, as it turned out, everyone else in the group was still busy eating and whiling the time away!

With check-out time at 2 pm on Wednesday, hubby helped put the baggage and other loose items in the car, and Sadia and I whizzed away to Kota Damansara to play (that's Sadia) and rest (that's me) before picking him up at the hotel in the evening. With the exhausted Sadia throwing one of her tantrums again shortly before leaving to get hubby, I had to rely on mini M&Ms to pacify her during the ride. Sadia slept shortly after hubby took rein of the wheel and we stopped at a KFC drive-thru on the highway since hubby had not had lunch. We later got our dinner - my sambal ikan kembung! - at a 'warung' in Bandar Baru Ampang before heading to the apartment.

At long last, we entered the house around 7 pm and were glad to see the familiar sights. Refreshed from her nap, Sadia rushed to the tv with PlayhouseDisney channel on default setting and parked herself there for most of the night. Ahhh, back to your normal programming.

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For a lark, here's my result for the Celebrity Look-Alike, inspired after Kak Teh's own. Please note that it is Roseanne Barr AFTER her multiply surgeries and not BEFORE. Haha. And how come do I get all these obscure Asian personalities, unlike some other people with Hollywood lookalikes? Do I look more Oriental than the average Malaysians? The mind boggles.



Please go here to get yours.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Pregnancy Journal 1

According to the gynae and if the calculation is correct, I should be in my 12 weeks this week. My stomach has ballooned to a noticeable bump and caused most of my current pair of pants to stay on the racks. I am lucky to have sisters - three of them - , who have accumulated an array of maternity wardrobe between them, to borrow from.

I have seen my gynae twice ever since I got the referral letter from the neighbourhood clinic. Both encounters have so far been pleasant aside from the very long wait (two hours!) to go into his office. You see, my ever popular gynae, takes emergency cases first and this pushes forward other patients who are civilised (or clueless?) enough to sign on the appointment list. The first time where I couldn't get an appointment due to the long waiting list and had to wait for a free slot - two hours plus - was forgivable, but the second time - on an appointment - was something I had to get used to. It was exasperating to say the least. I didn't have to go through such a long haul with the first gynae.

I changed gynae from the previous one because I find my personality conflicted with that of the latter. Although I have to wait for this new gynae - hopefully subsequent visits would get better, time-wise but I wouldn't bet on it - I am glad this gynae is more patient and jovial than the other one. Each to his own, I believe.

My bouts of nausea - without vomitting - have so far tapered off with a lingering fatigue usually in either late afternoon or evening. Headaches are the order of the day as I have trouble falling asleep every so often due to frequent trips to the toilet late in the night. I am also extra klutzy nowadays and have become more forgetful. Recently, I lost my house keys as I could not at all recall the last time I saw them.

As far as cravings go, my recurring favourite, for some strange reason, is sambal ikan kembung (mackerel). I must have it every day if I could. Alas, it narrows down to once a week. Ironically, my first culinary love, chicken has reverted to a puppy-love state as I halfheartedly eat my way through most poultry dishes. I cannot even stomach the good old-fashioned, greasy fried chicken that I am so crazy about! My husband quipped that I am fowl-averse for this pregnancy as opposed to being coffee-averse (I couldn't even smell the blasted thing) during the first time.

Already ticked off my craving list are DELIcious creamy carrot cake, baked potatoes, Chillis Nachos and Triple Play and bubur kacang (mung bean dessert). I have yet to get my hot piping banana fritters (pisang goreng). You know the traditional crispy ones dipped in a mixture of air kapur (limewater) and flour batter.

The euphoria of having a child the second time around might not match the experience one gets the first time, but I still become teary-eyed whenever I see the lil one and his or her corresponding heartbeat on the nifty ultrasound. I feel truly blessed with His munificence.

Sadia, a few hours old

The worrywart that I am, I am concerned about the dynamic of my relationship with Sadia once another baby enters the picture. She now knows there is a baby in mommy's tummy and at one point screamed at my stomach "Hello, anybody in there?!" I also notice she has grown more attached to her 'baby doll' named Caroline (or Caroleen in French since we got it as a Christmas present from the French hotel we stayed in during hubby's two-week course) and always insists on bringing it everywhere. Sometimes she feeds her the toy bottle and even talks to her. Is it her way of getting used to a sibling, I wonder?

With Caroleen in Kampung Bahru during the recent Raya Haji

That aside, my husband and I agree that time flies so fast this time around. After December, it will be six more months until the stork comes for a visit. God willing. Until then, we will be making some changes on the domestic front - physically and emotionally.


(From onwards, this journal will be posted on as-and-when basis)

Thursday, November 27, 2008

Ulangtahun *

He waited for her arrival with a styrofoam cup of McDonalds coffee in his gloved right hand. The gentle, morning wind still sent a shiver up his spine despite having bundled up ever so painstakingly. Although it was officially the tail end of winter, the unpredictable Mid-west weather was something he had got used to. A beautiful, crisp day today, a blustery one tomorrow.

Her train would pull into the station anytime soon, he thought while glancing at his trusty Swatch watch.

He always looked forward to her trip up from her college. Traveling downtown from his suburban college and a McDonald breakfast while waiting became a ritual that he had grown accustomed to. They would have a fun time catching up with one another over a movie, lunch and coffee, although not necessarily in that order.

In fact, they had been so close that it was a wonder they were not seeing each other exclusively. Although the thought had crossed his mind, he would never want to jeopardize the friendship for something more. He liked the way things were. Besides, he wasn't sure if both of them were ready for the transition.

He loved that they were on the same wavelength (well, most of the times), interested in the same recreational pursuits, and shared an adventurous streak.

Admittedly, no one had come even close to being so attentive and sincere in their acquaintanceship with him. She can be so guileless and uncouth at times, but strangely he found these qualities a part of her charm.

He is fond of her, he inwardly confessed. Let's hope she would be patient and wait for him.

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She looked out of the Commuter Train passing through the rundown section of Chicago's South side. Her mind was fully occupied by the phone conversation she had with him the night before. They were talking about the movie they planned to watch and other attractions in downtown when she broached the subject.

Well, she didn't actually broach it per se. It was more like alluding to the obvious fact - taking their friendship to the next level.

However, he seemed to be either dense or uninterested to pursue the matter. Pursue was the operative word here.

She sighed out loud and inadvertently let out a steam of air onto the glass window. Deep in thoughts, she only came to realize that the temperature had dropped since she boarded the morning service. Luckily, she didn't miss the train like she had previously a couple of times before due to a delayed taxi ride.

In a bid to gather her thoughts, she quickly buttoned up her pea coat and put back her journal in the knapsack.

She knew he's a private person. It was hard to read what he was thinking most of the times. Although she confessed, it was part of the mystery that attracted her to him in the first place. She liked to hang around him as he was the least judgmental person she had ever known. She could just be herself, up to a point that is. Sometimes, she needed to watch herself lest she spurted some blunt remarks.

The train had come to a full stop. Time to face the music. Whatever that was in store for them, she would wait with bated breath. She cared too deeply for him to run away from the unfolding scene. There was no denying the strong bond they had formed. "I've grown accustomed to his face" played in her ears as she descended down the steps to see a familiar, Godsent figure.

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* Anniversary.

Monday, November 24, 2008

Facebook Fiend



Hi. My name is Theta. I'm a Facebook addict.

I have wanted to write about this newfangled fixation for the longest time, but you guess it, the time spent on Facebook (FB) has somehow derailed me from penning my thoughts down. That, and other regular interminable distractions (read: Sadia).

When my dear twin sister invited me to join the crazy bandwagon (as it has been quoted by someone in my husband's FB circle) back in December last year, I declined on the basis of rejecting the 'mainstream' movement. (I could just imagine Nina rolling her eyes at my attempt to be 'different' :) ) Besides, I told myself, the long-ish form - at least that's how it appeared to me in the older FB version - one has to fill to enter this 'cult' just put me off.

Hah! The snobbery of it all. As this incident goes to show, you should never ever say never. Because once you tread into the beautiful unknown, there is no turning back. At least, that's how it applies in my sorry case.

Ahhh, the sheer embarrassment of it all.

In February this year, I finally decided to give FB a try after reading to no end about it on various blogs that I follow - how they are hooked to it, the different, interesting applications involved and meeting friends - old and new - online. In my weak defense, curiosity got the best of me. I wanted to check out what the hullabaloo is all about.

Little did I know I would be sucked into a powerful vortex that seems to turn on its own axis. Once I finished with the form-filling part and had my first view inside the sacred portal, I literally ran all over the place - finding people I might know, adding new funky applications and accepting new gifts in return. For some inexplicable reason, I was completely entranced.

Nine months have passed since that fateful, hyperventilated day. I can safely say by the end of October, my euphoria has somewhat died down.

In fact, the end of Ramadan saw with it my usual interests taking a backseat to more pressing matters, like attending to Sadia and spending quality time with my loved ones (Unbeknownst to me then, my gradual lack of enthusiasm and acute fatigue were attributed to having conceived a baby).

Digression aside, I must reiterate that FB still figures largely in my life, and there is not a day where I will not take a peek at it (except of course, when I'm in rustic country). This almost morbid fascination with FB even boggles me. Surely I could just run away from such frivolous electronic affair. Then, how come the mind tells me no?

Sometime in early September - also the Ramadan month - I chanced upon a delightful exposition on this successful FB phenomenon. All of a sudden, everything that I'd ever mused about FB clicks together. The said article talks about the concept of 'ambient awareness' to explain the feverish rise in online form of contact.

It is, they say, very much like being physically near someone and picking up on his mood through the little things he does — body language, sighs, stray comments — out of the corner of your eye.

As a matter of fact, the current News Feed page on FB - the default Home page on everyone's FB account - is essential to this site's popularity. When News Feed was first introduced two years back however, people in general were initially mortified by the constant updates flashing across the page. Who broke up with whom, whose less than flattering photos were tagged and so forth had caused a thunderous uproar. Fortunately, the clamor died down within days after people got accustomed to this new feature. Many people were happy to receive tidbits about some of their friends which they would not normally know in real life.

Now that it is socially acceptable to showcase a snippet of your life in a blip-like manner on FB, the internet has seen a surge of 'microblogging' tools like Twitter in the past one year.
The phenomenon is quite different from what we normally think of as blogging, because a blog post is usually a written piece, sometimes quite long: a statement of opinion, a story, an analysis. But these new updates are something different. They’re far shorter, far more frequent and less carefully considered.

This brings me to another facet of FB - Status Update - which, like Twitter, has a limited number of characters to play with. Truth be told, it is the one I most utilize and look forward to each day. When I began using it, I even surprised myself that I didn't have any reservation towards it. Not even a teeny bit shy. I love skimming through Friends' status as well and, like the article elucidates this long-drawn exercise gives me a sense of the rhythms of their lives. When followed for an extended period, I get a feel of their ups-and-downs, personality streaks and other boring yet strangely meaningful information that make up a bigger picture.
This is the paradox of ambient awareness. Each little update — each individual bit of social information — is insignificant on its own, even supremely mundane. But taken together, over time, the little snippets coalesce into a surprisingly sophisticated portrait of your friends’ and family members’ lives, like thousands of dots making a pointillist painting.

An 'extrasensory perception' gained from such unending virtual contact might be superficial at best, but the fact remains people do find the time to compose their thoughts on Status Updates in order to attract cursory or loyal readers.

While the author discussed the dangers of dabbling too much in ambient awareness activities - spreading oneself too thin for real-life emotional relationships, the 'parasocial' phenomenon of developing a misleading deep connection with someone whom you hardly know, and the dilemma of wanting to extricate yourself from your own noseyed 'small village' of FB (privacy, ex-lover issues, tagging of your old horrible pics, for instance) or staying put just to see what others are talking about you - , I am more inclined to agree on this point - creating a more self-aware, reflective individual.
The act of stopping several times a day to observe what you’re feeling or thinking can become, after weeks and weeks, a sort of philosophical act. It’s like the Greek dictum to “know thyself,” or the therapeutic concept of mindfulness.

As the Status Updates demonstrate, you cannot help but to wonder what had possessed you to rant about certain problems and therefore make a conscious decision to tackle them better. You in turn become more objective. That's the best side-effect for emotional-laden persons such as me. Though the pull of FB inevitably remains, I'm increasingly 'aware' where my priorities lie and that face-to-face interactions are more precious and rewarding than the FB versions I might engage in any given day.

Oh, by the way, my FB Dunbar Number currently stands at 123. That's propitious enough, don't you think? :)






First image taken from here.

Second image stolen from here.

Last image filched from here.

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Tagged : The Magnificent Seven

In the ever competitive world of blogging - who has the most hits per day, which old-(blog)timers have the largest fanbase, who has read the most books in the bookblog circle, and who has the most outrageous scoop in the so-po blog circle - , it's nice to retreat in your quiet little corner to soliloquize about the 7 wonders of your world. Or plainly speaking, as this tag by Aezack dictates, 7 random facts about me :


  1. I like to eat Chicken. Period.

    Any chicken dishes suit my fancy. As long as it doesn't involve any foreign parts of the chicken like gizzard or liver. The good old-fashioned greasy fried chicken is my favourite, bar none. I believe this strong affinity to the fowl started from my childhood where my mother always fed us the poultry for lunch and dinner. The domestic favourite is of course fried chicken. However, I should also qualify that I dislike the drumstick part of the chicken, whereas the most vaunted part is the wing! The more, the merrier.

  2. I clean my plate. And any other perishables, consumables and supplies for that matter.

    If you give me a plate of rice with the usual trimmings, I'd, more often than not, finish the spread. Naturally, the food must be palatable and considering my rather indiscriminate culinary taste, the probability of me scarfing down the whole grub is high. In the case of finger-lickin' chicken, I will eat the pieces until the bones are exposed for all to see. Even my MIL is impressed by my ostensibly 'Waste Not' motto when it comes to eating, but I shrug it off to the glutton in me. Also, I will use any consumer product to its last drop or squeeze. Toothpaste, chilli sauce, shower gel refill, shampoo and many others have fallen under this meticulous practice.

  3. I am not a groupie. Nor do I subscribe to cliquish mentality.

    Partly borne out of growing up in a family where two of my siblings are of the same age and partly due to a self-imposed reclusiveness, I rarely felt the need to venture out of my comfort domestic zone as a kid. I also abhor the politics involved in making friends back in school, most prominently amongst the feral-like females. It didn't help that I was an awkward and confused teenager, unlike others who throve on their adolescent hormones. Yes, I didn't mix much and can be socially inept when it comes to mingling with others. Outside of school and into college, this perception stayed and was reinforced by the presence of cliques in the Malay community. I find the 'automatic' solidarity existed among people coming from certain states of Malaysia stuffy and limiting. While it's nice to connect with your fellow countrymen when studying abroad, we must not do so at the expense of experiencing the (good) culture and meeting new people where you live. If one feels the pressure to behave in a certain way to please a group which in itself goes against one's principles, I'd be the first one to get out of the door.

  4. Patience is not one of my strongest virtues.

    I am stickler when it comes to being punctual for a meeting. Well, at least when it comes to meeting my friends for coffee or a movie. I'd lose my cool when he or she shows up late without any good explanation. Like leaving late for our tete-a-tete. However, when I'm the one being late, I'd expect them to understand. Heh heh - how unfair, right? Also, when I have set my mind on something, I'd want to get it done and over with as soon as possible. Like Now. I'd be restless and impatient until it's out of my To-do lists.

  5. Like Aezack, I used to have a crush on Richard Dean Andersen during the formative tween years.

    Other honorable mentions of crush are Simon MacCorkindale (of the Manimal fame), Richard Chamberlain (from the forbidden love of The Thorn Birds), and Jan-Michael Vincent of, what else, Airwolf. Perennial favourite actors are John Malkovich, Gary Oldman and Brad Pitt of course. :)

  6. I have two stitches on my forehead resulting from two separate incidents : (a) a major car accident on Federal Highway and (b) an attempt to fly off to a gate located on a steep decline.

    I vaguely remember the first, but I was told that we're hit by another car where most of the passengers unfortunately died in the accident. If I'm not mistaken, I was between the age of five and seven at the time. I do remember 'waking up' shortly after the collision and looking at others - my family members (except for brother, Shol) and an aunt - whom I thought were 'sleeping'. I then touched my wet forehead and saw crimson colour on my teeny fingers. Thereafter, I lost consciousness again. I can also recall indistinctly going in and out of consciousness at the hospital and the operating theater.

    The second one involves a former neighbour's gate in our old Shah Alam abode where I literally flew - flapped wings ala superhero - down the narrow slope and hit the galvanized steel gate so hard that it left a deep gash on one side of my forehead. Needless to say, I was hurried to the hospital for a stitch-up. The two incidents happened within a short period of one another and luckily the scars have long gone since that memorable time of my early childhood.

  7. Despite feeling jaded about some things in my life, I am a firm believer of soul mates. Some people might pooh-pooh it either as hogwash or an enduring byproduct of Tinseltown. I do believe there is someone out there who understands and accepts us completely and unconditionally. That someone thinks the world of you and would even risk his/her life for you. It might not be someone whom we end up marrying - it can be a friend, an elderly person, a mentor or even someone in the family. It's a tall order this soul mate business, but I reckon it's far from impossible. I'm grateful that I got to marry mine. :)




There you go, my Magnificent Seven facts. By the by, The Magnificent Seven is one of my favourite movies from the '60s. The dashing Yul Brynner cut a fine figure in his Cowboy outfit and macho swagger. Another great actor - this one is a legend.

I won't be tagging anyone this time around as this meme tag has been around for a while. However, please give it a try if you like and let me know so I can pop over to your place and take a gander.

Sunday, November 02, 2008

And baby makes...

Lest the news be stale by the time I decide to write it, let me do the honour of putting the record straight. We are having a baby.

The rambling nature of my previous post, coupled with the insomniac episode and bottomless stomach, should have been an indication, if any. And all the talk about having another baby to make the panic attacks easier has ironically enough come to fruition, in a manner of speaking.

Also, there were the persistent dizzy spells and feeling of nausea which had rendered me horizontal for some days. I was feeling more fatigued than usual that I decided to break my sunnah fast in the middle of an afternoon after becoming exceptionally woozy.

I had my suspicions about being pregnant but I didn't want to put my hopes high. As such, I attributed the constant headaches to one of my PMS symptoms (interestingly enough, most pregnancy signs can be the onset of menstruation) while the bloatey, queasy feeling was always a culprit after eating the wrong kind of food.

However, my sense of intuition kept gnawing at me for failing to heed the apparent signs. So when the headaches and nausea became more pronounced, I threw caution to the wind and decided to get the home pregnancy kit. Last Sunday night. Yet, between the fear of being disappointed and the strong womanly instinct, the former sadly won. I dilly-dallied until the next morning.

Suffice to say, it was great news! I was overcome with mixed emotions. Exhilarated, disbelief, worry and most of all, gratitude.

As advised, we went to the clinic again in the afternoon to reconfirm the pregnancy and get a referral for an ob-gyn. Only then did I text my mom and three other sisters.

It sure is surreal to be expecting again. I remember the last time I made the excited series of calls to my family. That was late July 2005.

I pray to God for a safe pregnancy and delivery and a healthy, bouncing baby.

For now, the nauseous feeling still lingers. Thanks to God, I have a strong stomach.

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

Insomnia-Induced Idle Talk

*Sleep seems to escape my subconscious for the moment. It wasn't the coffee that's the culprit - that one I know for sure. It's probably the good old-fashioned worry that, to borrow Eliza Doolittle's expression, has done me in. On the other hand, it could be nothing more than hunger pangs that contribute to this insomniac episode. I remember my stomach growling as I turned in last night.

And this morning, still tossing and turning, I feel a hollowness deep inside the pit of my stomach. I was famished. For some reason, the Domino's New York Crust Pizza wasn't able to satiate my hunger. At a hefty sum, the extraordinarily thin crust screams rip-off to me.

With drowsiness miles away from my thoughts, it's best that I use the 'free time' to update a post. This past week has seen me reevaluating some aspirations that I've set for myself. Suffice to say, I have to be more pro-active in order to achieve them.

In the course of my 30-odd life, I have always been the over-analytical yet enthusiastic person. However, the eager beaver in me will slowly fizzle out at the strongest hint of betrayal or undue criticism. While I consider myself cautious when it comes to making new friends, I always have my gut instinct to round up the assessment. On the short-lived corporate front, I would rather have a clearly defined role at the workplace as opposed to become a master of all trades without any acknowledgment forthcoming from an aloof supervisor.

Becoming a full-time mother ever since I quitted my job in corporate affairs, I must say that motherhood has its own unique set of challenges. I was most fortunate to be able to make that transition with the help of an understanding and ever 'hands-on' partner who, I might add, was on a one-year sabbatical from work. (We were in the Netherlands for one year for hubby's Masters programme)

Though I contemplated coming back to work after we arrived home last year, the opportunity has yet to present itself insofar as I'd be able to leave Sadia in good, capable hands. My two-and-half year-old daughter is such a finicky eater that at times I am at wits' end trying to make her eat. Therein also lies one of my 'pro-active' pursuits. I have made an eating timetable that I hope to adhere to from now. And of course, there is the problem of weaning off that I have yet to decide on. Some people say that she'd eat more properly and heartily if I totally wean her off. All I can say is it's easier said than done.

Having a kid surely change one's world and not to mention one's mobility as far as nursing is concerned. But hey, who's complaining! Here's the lowdown on what it means to raise a baby/toddler without the help of a maid:


  1. As parents, you can no longer afford to eat at a leisurely pace. Either you eat as fast as humanly possible or you chow down when the baby is asleep. In the case of Sadia, it doesn't help that her napping pattern has been haphazard at best. Else, an alternative is to take turns eating as one of you attends to the toddler's whims and fancies.

  2. Stepping into a cinema is akin to a death wish when you are totting around an irascible tyke. Unless you book a whole auditorium to yourself to let the bambino run across the aisles, there is no conceivable way you are able to enjoy the silver screen with a screaming toddler on your face. The temporary solution for now is to heavily rely on DVDs - bootlegged or otherwise - as a form of escapism.

  3. Toddler activities take precedence whenever you step out of the house. When you're on a shopping jaunt to a mall, always make sure the place has a decent toy store for the kid to let off steam. If you are out of reach of one AND an outdoor playground, please do not hesitate to use one of those coin-operated kiddy rides to get a moment of peace. Now you can relate to those parents who utilise these contraptions like crazy, unlike before when you look upon them with disdain for being so uncreative in entertaining their children. You know better now...

  4. The television falls prey to a voracious tiny viewer who dictates which channels the parents would be able to watch. In this household, for instance, the default channel is PlayhouseDisney. Any attempt to change to another channel will be met with deafening shrieks that are out of this world.

  5. However, fear not for sleep is the least of your concerns as you can catch up with your sleep either when the tot naps or by going back to bed after the other half leaves for work :) (Outside of your insomniac episodes, that is). Your partner, in turn, can replace his sleeping hours after coming back from work as long as the bambino is still napping. It's, more often than not, a win-win situation.


To say that your life changes once a baby enters the picture is in itself an understatement. He or she will demand your constant attention and reassurance when he or she goes through different stages of growth and development. Your old routine will be irretrievably gone, if not take a backseat to more pressing matters concerning your baby. Get used to it. Come to terms with it.

And most importantly, embrace it like you would cuddle your precious bundle of joy as if your life depends on it.


*Started writing on Saturday morning.

Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Kuching in a daze


The gossamer curtain billows suggestively under the spell of an afternoon breeze. Its undulating waves match the slow-paced existence of this peaceful household. Outside, on a neighbour's spacious backyard, countless lalangs with their white flowers sprouting out rustle in the wind. Despite the negative press that lalang often gets, this 'sea of white' appeals to my aesthetic. Save for the sound of television, there is nary a voice rising above others, nor will there be a need to. In this quiet, idyllic setting, my frayed mind is instantly cajoled to join the rest in collective harmony.

For a short while, there won't be any worry about the perpetually broken down elevator, the drunken African expat, the crazy motorists on the roads or the ruthless taxi drivers.

Everything appears to move slower in this lovely, quaint place. Truly a holistic approach to life that many a weary urbanite, like myself, have sought after. Thus, heed my advice: to recharge your battery, find a temporary pastoral residence, complete with the night orchestra of crickets, birds and frogs, the fresh village air to salve the troubled soul, and a group of non-combative, relaxed individuals to restore your faith in people.

This leafy Kampung (Village), by the fringes of Sarawak river, has the inexplicable magic touch that always have me hankering for more. Welcome home Tita. Glad you're back.

------------------------------------

And now, on a sappy front :

I was standing
All alone against the world outside
You were searching
For a place to hide

Lost and lonely
Now you’ve given me the will to survive
When we’re hungry...love will keep us alive

Don’t you worry
Sometimes you’ve just gotta let it ride
The world is changing
Right before your eyes
Now I’ve found you
There’s no more emptiness inside
When we’re hungry...love will keep us alive

I would die for you
Climb the highest mountain
Baby, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do

I was standing
All alone against the worlk outside
You were searching
For a place to hide
Lost and lonely
Now you’ve given me the will to survive
When we’re hungry...love will keep us alive
When we’re hungry...love will keep us alive
When we’re hungry...love will keep us alive


(From Eagles album's Hell Freezes Over)

Happy Anniversary my dear husband. We were married on the 14th of Syawal 1425 and as wont, will celebrate the day as mutually agreed.

Thank you for your kindness, patience, guidance, hope, perseverance and most importantly, unconditional love. While I concede to moments of relapse, at times wallow in my own weaknesses or succumb to imagined shortcomings, I am most blessed having you in my life. May Allah strengthen our marital bond and bestow us with His bountiful barakah, insyaAllah.


During the 'Makan Temuan' ritual for Kuching wedding ceremony

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

The Raya that was : The Long Version

It's now one week after the first day of Eid.

Somehow Raya this year turned out to be more low-key than expected. On hindsight, I should have expected it, what with the series of events that led to Eid.

We went to my parents' house on Raya eve bearing the customary Satay to be eaten for iftar and the ensuing Raya. My eldest and younger sisters and their respective families were around, helping out with last-minute chores like wiping down the long-forgotten corner table and filling up the containers with Kueh Raya ((Raya cookies). My twin sister's family had left for Johor Bahru earlier that morning to spend Raya with the MIL's clan.

After my younger sister's family left to clean their house, we went to Ikano to get some essential rations (read: her preferred carton of fresh milk) for Sadia. Sadia was bawling her eyes out when we told her that we're going out for a bit as she had thought we were leaving for good. Only when we said that Elisa - her favourite 5-year-old cousin - was tagging along that she miraculously calmed down.

Once there, we indulged in some ice-creams from New Zealand Natural before heading back to KD. Oh yeah, I had forgotten to mention that my dad and my brother were not around for iftar as they were invited for the traditional house-to-house takbeer that took place in our old neighbourhood of Shah Alam. Every year without fail, the Shah Alam folks would call my father to join them even though we had long left the community.

Following iftar however, I experienced a splitting headache that crescendoed when we turned in for the night. I couldn't fall asleep until almost 3 a.m. A succession of 'incidents' worked against my favour as I tossed and turned in bed. First, I tried in vain looking for some panadols downstairs in the dead of night and out of desperation, settled for a generic, unknown brand with the word 'Paracetamol' imprinted on the pills. Then, it started pouring outside as I was about to doze off and caused a leak in the roof that rapidly dripped into a ready bucket. The tap-tap-tap sound was enough to remove any desire to sleep. When I couldn't take it any longer, I took a thick towel and stashed it deep into the bucket. It provided a welcome cushion to the grating noise. When I thought that was the last of my trouble, someone's car alarm went off for the longest time. As I covered my left ear with the pillow, thoughts of Murphy's Law crossed my mind and I chuckled inside. Lethargy finally overtook me amid the din of the night.

The morning after my husband came back from the TTDI masjeed for Eid prayers, we both helped get a sleepy-eyed Sadia ready. With the rain last night, the house's solar panel was not running at its optimum which caused me and Sadia to shower in relatively cold water. Sadia sure got a rude awakening, so to speak, but she was surprisingly cooperative when we donned her in baju kurung and fine jewellery.

My eldest sister later knocked on the bedroom door, telling me that she and her family were going to leave for Kampung Bharu. So soon? I said. She wanted to see my other aunties and uncles before they disappeared for other houses. Where were my parents in the midst of the first Raya, you ask? Since it was a Wednesday, my mom was doing her morning dialysis in Subang Jaya whilst my father had purportedly gone for an SUK Raya event in Shah Alam. My brother also opted for a dialysis session on Wednesday (his usual would be Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday) so he'd have a hassle-free second day of Raya convoying with the maternal clan. My younger sis et al were in Rawang celebrating the first day of Raya with her SIL (who's in confinement) and the rest of the in-laws.

Turned out, Mama also had trouble sleeping due to a pounding headache and woke up later than usual to go to the hospital. Another reason Kak Long, my eldest came to my room, was to ask me to send the Raya goodies - ketupat, rendang and whatnot - to the hospital for my mom's nurses. For many years now my mother would bring traditional Raya dishes for the Muslim nurses on duty at her dialysis centre. Since they are accustomed to my mom's tradition, they look forward to it every Raya.

How ironic that when we put a night in KD to spend Raya with my family, no one was physically around. With just us in the big house, we decided to take our time eating the Raya food and snapping the compulsory Raya photos for posterity before dropping the food off at the hospital. My mother's session would end around noon anyway. Half past noon we were at SJMC and my mother and I went up to pass the goodies. With her eyes downcast, the nurse at the reception pouted and said in a low tone "Dah lama tunggu" (Waited for a long time). It must be pretty hard for them who had to work during Raya. Mama informed me that out of the eight Malay nurses, only two were allowed to take leave.

My mom went back home with my dad to rest and change into her Raya clothes, whereas we took off for Kampung Bharu. Excluding my grandma, only the families of one aunt and one uncle were at hand to entertain the guests. After the usual round of eating, salam and bestowing money to the little and not-so-little ones, we sprawled en masse in front of the telly joining the other early birds.

Since the next house to visit in Kampung Pandan was scheduled after Asr prayers, we went off to KLCC to run some errand and sat in (where else!) SanFran for a cold one. The time was apropos as Sadia was napping in her buggy. It was a scorching hot day and KLCC was teeming with people, primarily non-Malays and foreign Muslim workers from Bangladesh and Indonesia.

The Assam Laksa at my auntie's place in Kampung Pandan was a nice departure from the predictable Raya fare. Sadia had woken up at this time, flat out (read: cranky) from the day's hustle and bustle. As such, we decided to skip the last house in Kajang and took things easy for Sadia's sake.

-------------------
Second day of Raya is all about visiting the side of my late (maternal) grandfather's family. We were due at the Kampung Subang's house by mid-morning but alas we couldn't make it in time. Instead, we drove straight to Kuala Selangor to meet the rest of the maternal relatives for a lunch date at the house of my mom's cousin. After performing Zuhr prayers, we left for another relative's house, off Kuala Selangor - somewhere in Sungai (or Bukit) Belimbing - which boasts a swimming pool. The pool had finally completed after being in a state of limbo for two consecutive Rayas. Sadia, like a fish to water, wanted to dip in but without proper adult supervision (and swimming suit) was somewhat contented with splashing around. As wont, this house served its signature piping hot pisang goreng (fried banana) dipped in ground gula melaka (palm sugar). Yum.

Sadia's mood dove after this house, more so after she found out Elisa's car was going in the opposite direction of hers (my eldest sis and family were off to her in-laws in Sabak Bernam). We got lost for close to an hour, going to the next house located in Kapar. Luckily Sadia got to sleep during this time. By the time we arrived, most of my relatives had already left for the next house and Sadia had also stirred from her sleep. She was hungry and cranky. Not a good combo.

We then agreed to skip the last two houses since Sadia had not eaten properly and told my mom that we would see them back at the KD house for the night do. However, we found out that the relatives' gathering at my parents' was cancelled due to the lack of quorum. So we stayed in Ikano to feed Sadia and went home thereafter.

The third day we were off for a vacation that had long been planned and repeatedly postponed due to my husband's mounting workload. The holiday proved to be the breather that we've been looking for. But that's another story.

On the Raya front, we will be leaving for Kuching this Friday. It will be a short visit as hubby is needed back at work pronto. It's either we go back this Friday or later during Deepavali which would fall on October 27th. That'd be too late especially for my mother-in-law who yearns to see her youngest grandchild.

Until I have some air to exhale, wish us a safe and great trip back home. And do enjoy the remainder of your Eid.

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Tag: Writers Writuals

Written in the early hours of September 29th

Before the holiday languor sets in, it'd be best to put my thoughts down for the tag started by the ever indefatigable Ms. Elviza. First of, I feel privileged to be chosen, among the illuminated few, to complete this tag. Echoing Jacq's sentiment, intimidation looms large as I looked at the list of other taggees.

Their lilting prose - Elviza's included - captures my imagination and inspires me to write better. They say to write well, one has to be well-read. Far from discounting the power of insatiable reading, I would also like to stress that having a fiery passion for writing is just as important to produce a seminal manuscript. Without the requisite passion, every dream we plan to achieve would dissipate into an air of mediocrity or perish on the tombstone of What-ifs.

As an eager aspirant, I have many hurdles to jump, may lessons to learn and many, many books to read (Only God knows how many books I've accumulated over the years). Thus, I'm immensely grateful for any help that I could get from anyone or anything.

(1) Where are you?

By the soft glow of a bedside lamp, I'm scribbling this lying in bed with my two favourite people sound asleep beside me. It's close to 2 a.m. and a spark of writing ideas keeps me from falling into REM sleep.

(2) What are you writing with?

Let me see...Faber Castell True Gel in Black. Please don't cringe people. I'm not that finicky when it comes to my writing instrument - as long as it does not hinder my movement on paper, that would suit me just fine. Also, I'm currently using a Starbucks Notebook which I had procured at its joint in The Gardens' Borders for a very good deal indeed. For a RM30 worth of purchase, I'm a proud owner of a sleek black notebook. Its front sturdy cover is embossed with a soothing silhouette of leaves branching out purposely in a desultory manner and this pattern is repeated on every other page inside. I figure it's more motivational to write in something I strongly identify with (Starbucks!), rather than the nondescript, uninspiring notebook I found in Popular bookstore. Besides, I've decided that I am not yet prepared to smear the almost hallowed papers of Moleskine with my illegible drivel.

(3) What is the oddest object in front of you?

It's a toss-up between the rabbit-and-sheep baby mobile right above me and the oblong-shaped floor lamp at the foot of the bed. Both are from Ikea. Go figure.

(4) What are you listening to?

The calming ambient sound of the night - the whirring of the ceiling fan and the snoring of people who matter. I must write in a relatively quiet environment for the so-called juices to flow. Otherwise, my train of thoughts will be halted or divert to other fleeting interests.

(5) Is there anyone else in the room?

Yes and no. Two persons but they're fast asleep. Being a full-time mother, I have to slot in some uninterrupted hours to write. That happens either late at night when everyone else has gone to Slumberland or early in the morning after the husband leaves for work and my girl is still in bed.

(6) What time of the day is it?

It's close to 2:30 a.m. and I'd better get some shut-eye lest I'd be cranky and unable to function tomorrow! Ah, the folly of writing. Your moments of somnolence come second for the sake of the craft.

(7) What do you look at when you are looking for inspiration?

Any breathtaking scenery would do. Once, I was overcome with sheer contentment just by looking at the panorama of the well-preserved, tree-lined road of Jalan Ampang. This is the part of Jalan Ampang that runs from Public Bank Headquarters right to Renaissance Hotel. Stuck in a jam, various adjectives entered my head as I attempted to describe the scene in its most deserving tone and nuances. This is, at least for me, a great way to build and retain one's vocabulary. The object of my musing can be either inanimate or animate such as a ravishing person.

(8) What is guaranteed to remove your concentration?

That would be the onset of any physical ailments like a headache or a throbbing knee. But, with a degree of much certainty, I'd say it is none other than my darling 2-and-half year old daughter whose tantrums are getting impossible by the day.

It's 2.45 and I'm off to bed.

----------------------------------------------------------------


Here's wishing my fellow readers, friends and relatives a very joyful Selamat Hari Raya Aidilfitri (or Eid Mubarak in other parts of the world). Maaf Zahir dan Batin for everything that I've done or said, or conversely, neglected to do or say.

This blog will resume its original programming in about a week's time.

Till then, have a safe and meaningful Raya with your loved ones and eat to your heart's content! However, like in other things that we do, always practice moderation :)))


Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Buying into the Frenzy

Being the undaunted mall rats that we are, Friday evening was allocated to lounging in KLCC shortly after digesting our victuals and performing Maghrib prayers. The journey there however proved to be longer than expected since the KLCC’s entrance via AKLEH (Ampang-KL Elevated Highway) was closed off for reasons unknown to self-proclaimed urbanites like us.

We only entered the Jalan Ramlee’s entrance close to 9 p.m. and were shocked to find the parking areas were full with automobiles at such late hours! Some people had even haphazardly parked at non-designated parking spaces – the way ingenuous Malaysian drivers always do – as long as their newly created spot gives others in the vicinity barely enough room to maneuver out of their legit spots. We scoured for an empty lot before settling into one which was considered off our beaten track. Sadia had napped (if you could call it as one) from the car so we were relieved to sit down in San Francisco Coffee for some quiet downtime.

As parents to a hyperactive toddler, moments like this do not come very often and must be savoured in its entirety. With the back of my neck resting comfortably against the soft texture of the ample booth and eyelids half-closed, I gazed at passersby whose number seemed unabated even nearing the closing time. What possessed them to still descend into KLCC at these odd hours? Have all of them, God forbid, become mall rat extraordinaire?

Turned out, the Isetan three-day special anniversary sale starting that day was the source of fixation for overzealous buyers. I had received the flier (Na, I sincerely hope it’s printed on recycled paper! ;) ) on the aforesaid sale but upon suspecting it would be just another sale, put it aside after skimming the pages. It didn’t occur to me that it’d be the mother of all sales that even convinced the KLCC management to close one of their main entrances.

From the looks of it, people were rushing like mad to grab on to any bargains that tickled their fancy. I must compliment Isetan and other customer-savvy establishments for their smart thinking and putting up a sale that caters to Muslims’ Raya preparation. The atmosphere, buzzing and frenetic, vividly recalls, of all things, the late night Christmas shopping in Den Hague (The Hague). In Holland, shops close as early as 5 p.m. during the weekday and save for the big cities, most are not open on Sundays in line with the recommended rest day. However, contrary to popular beliefs, the Dutch know how to have fun and relax the rules come the holiday seasons – be it winter or summer. Shops stay open as late as midnight – unheard of in this side of the continent – enabling customers to shop to their hearts’ content for SinterKlaas day and Christmas.

Back to the home ground, with the exception of the infamous and ever bustling Jalan TAR which is open for business right up to the morning takbeer of Raya, I haven’t come across any other which capitalises on this mammoth-size buying frenzy happening during Ramadan.

If the malls (or renown departmental stores) would provide a special day to help the average citizens in their inexhaustible search for the essential Raya kit Рtraditional (and modern) clothes for the adults (and children), kitchenware, furniture and fittings Рthey would be in for a very profitable treat. However, bearing in mind the religious significance of Ramadan, the proposed day can either take place a week prior to it or within the first week of the Holy month. The beauty of this arrangement is that people can drop by after their terawikh prayers and even enjoy their moreh at a nearby favourite caf̩. How nifty is that Рto be able to kill two birds with one stone?

As for the opponents under the banner of wastage, I ardently feel it is such a gratifying experience to spend a tangible something on loved ones on such a joyous, annual occasion like Eid. Rather than splurging unnecessarily for the rest of the year, Eid is the most opportune time to lavish them and reinforce the importance of family. By the by, our economy would also greatly benefit from this domestic spending. Don’t you just love all these spillover effects? See, that’s more like killing four birds with one pebble. Or, is that five birds worth? All this talk about birds sure does whet one’s appetite. Burung puyuh goreng* anyone?


*Deep-Fried Quail.

Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Ramadan on My Mind

We have already passed the halfway mark of Ramadan. Time flies really fast when you are, well, fasting. At least, in my tiny household, it feels that way. Unlike last year, I have made a mental note to brace myself from missing this Holy month once it draws to an end. When Syawal arrived in the previous year, I experienced a sense of loss borne mostly from not fully reaping the bounties available throughout Ramadan. This year, while my supererogatory (‘Terawikh or Tarawih’) prayers have not been up to par as they were during the bachelor days, I have noticed a marked improvement from last year which makes me one happy woman. After all, I received some great advice on the best way to appreciate and savour Ramadan – it lies not in the number of rak'ahs you perform, but in the sincerity of your heart.

Come two more weekends, we will be on our way home, God willing, to Kuching. As accustomed, we would be celebrating the last few days of Ramadan there and fly back to KL in the evening of first Syawal.

Then, it will be back to the maternal family tradition of Raya house-hopping on the second day with a convoy of cars making their way to relatives’ homes in the order predetermined almost two decades ago. And the last home on the block would be, more often than not, my parents’, serving non-Raya goodies for a change (read: fast food like Pizza, KFC or McD). Raya’s third is the culmination of our maternal family’s celebration of sorts, with a larga-scale Open House (‘Rumah Terbuka’) at my grandma’s place where all the maternal relatives – houses that we have visited in the first two days – and close family friends congregate to eat and socialize. And but of course, to exchange the customary Duit Raya – coveted Ringgit notes in rectangular (or square) packets, not unlike the Angpows doled out during Chinese New Year.

Somehow this Ramadan, I am reminded of the past, specifically when it comes to making and keeping friends. I came across something online that made me question what it means to stay friends with certain people and to sever ties with some others. In the middle of the spectrum are those who, for one reason or another, do not want anything to do with us.

Plainly speaking, they hate our guts as we somehow manage to, without much effort, rub them the wrong way. It is as easy as appearing in front of their face. Eyes start to roll and people begin to scamper. No matter how hard you try to suss it out, you cannot account for this critical level of disinterest in your person. “How come he/she doesn’t like me?” More to the point : “How come he/she doesn’t like me BUT likes X’s company?” “What makes X so special?”

(Granted, I already wrote in a post earlier this year that one could not really explain how some folks rub one the wrong way. It’s just beyond comprehension. Thus, I am merely relapsing into self-pity, so please bear with me. :P)

Like the shortsighted goon that I am, I hastily dug into the distant past when the issue of preference recently cropped up involving a familiar set of people. My mind flashed back to the time when I felt alienated just because I didn’t subscribe to the same cliquish mentality that was required back then to remain relevant. I distinctively remember how alone and lonely I was during these formative years.

Yet, as I calmed down and set my sight on the present, I believe, cliché as it may sound, there is a lesson behind this burgeoning albeit foolish desire to be accepted. Why would I want to lose a piece of my identity, sacrifice the idiosyncrasies that make me who I am today, merely out of the communal pressure to conform? In the words of my trusted confidante, “I don’t care if someone doesn’t like me. It’s not MY problem. It’s theirs.” How so very true.

In the spirit of maintaining the kinships – cyber or otherwise – that I have formed and cultivated over the years, I would like to apologise for all the unreplied comments on my previous blogposts. Save for an erratic and unreliable internet connection of late, I have no valid excuse for not responding to these comments (It seems like ‘Zero Internet Connect’ is this generation’s version for ‘The Dog Ate My Homework’). Alright, I blame it all on good old-fashioned procrastination, what with the political strife that has been plaguing the country. Half-Kidding.

With the prospect of further breakdown in online communication (plus, the exponential rise in my sluggishness), I’m taking this golden opportunity to also seek forgiveness for any wrongdoings that I have inadvertently inflicted on anybody. May your 1429H Eid be wonderful as ever and be filled with loved ones and delectable food.

Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Affairs of the Heart

What started out as a innocent conversation over tea turned into a surprising revelation of epic proportions. On a cool late afternoon after the forces of nature had died down, a person whom I have known for a long time intimated that she should have known the signs of her troubled marriage long before it spiraled out of control.

The trusted confidante, who has seen me through my lowest ebbs and highest peaks, confided that her marriage was a sham even during the early years. She found out too late that her husband was seeing another woman - an old flame, a high school crush - once a month for lunch. The news of the woman's untimely demise somehow unwittingly compelled the husband to speak the truth of their trysts.

He had mentioned this in a manner so matter-of-factly that it pierced her heart; as if it was his every right to do whatever he pleased without acknowledging or thinking the consequences on the people he was supposed to love and cherish for a lifetime. I could see that my friend was choked with emotions as she recalled this pivotal moment in her relationship. A relationship that had blossomed from many years of friendship that should in themselves provide her with a strong inkling of a person’s character. Or so she had grievously thought.

My friend believed that incident was the turning point in her marriage - she slowly yet surely closed herself out from the husband. No more would she share the tidbits of her daily lives when such a gesture was far from being appreciated, nor was it ever reciprocated. She – the picture of candour and honesty – too realised that her partner's continual lack of disclosure and openness in their relationship would be the cause of her undoing. Every lie, cry and heartache inflicted an irreparable damage on her psyche.

The lunch trysts, as it turned out, were the prelude to other wanton liaisons to come that would haunt her for the rest of her lives. Each unsavoury episode whittled away any desire to fight and save her marriage from falling apart.

If it were not for the children involved in this tragic union, she'd just leave in a heartbeat and start anew. Alas, she, who doesn't believe raising the kids in a broken home, has become the sacrificial lamb in the delicate matters of the heart. She'd rather grin and bear it than seeing her children suffer from the effects and stigma of a divorce. What she didn't count on by staying put was her children’s keen ability to soak in the troubled domestic scene and sense the emotional turmoil hampering her every happiness.

Ironically, they would be embittered still by the slew of deceits being played out daily by their father and grappling with the proverbial concept of trust that at times eludes them in their respective relationships.

Like a broken record, he had promised to turn a new leaf at some point of their marriage - at least that’s how it sounded in the throes of anguish and regret. But, like a leopard that can never change its spots, he hooked up with another woman with whom he could allegedly channel a more rugged and younger personality.

Like a straw that broke the camel’s back, my friend came unglued following this latest scandal and cast any remnant of her feelings to the howling wind. Inured by the endless pain, she reckons this is the best way to handle a situation that is fast becoming an incessant drag on the remainder of her lives.

I admire her for the innumerable strength that she has mustered in dealing with these real-life nightmares. Some may say that it is never too late to leave but let’s just say she has her reasons. A declining health and lack of proper educational background are some of them.

Thank you friend for shedding the light on the depths of your sorrow. Now I truly comprehend the extent and long duration of your suffering. I pray the best for you in this life and the Hereafter.