On this lazy Sunday morning, we drove to KLCC to relive our weekend ritual of eating brekkie in San Francisco Coffee Cafe. How sublime it was to dig into my favourite onion bagel with cream cheese! My husband on the other hand had the coddled egg set (as shown in photo). Both our sets came with a generous portion of coffee. If you'd like a change of pace or a relaxing diversion, I highly recommend having breakfast here. Great ambience, robust coffee, friendly staff and efficient service all contribute to a comfortable casual dining experience. (Note: This post marks the second installation of blogging from my phone. The first one being Macarons at Bakerzin.)
I rarely don make-up. It's not that I detest putting on make-up. I just don't have the time to wear any nowadays. Or rather, I don't make the time to put any on.
Truth be told, I have to admit I had only warmed up to make-up during junior year in COLLEGE. Yeah, you got (and read) that right. I am a late bloomer. A tomboy - well, not really - just a dishevelled mop of hair who pooh-poohed the facetious quality of cosmetic products.
And applying lipstick was my mode of make-up back then. Nothing more, nothing less.
It was only after graduating and starting work that I got interested in other forms of make-up. Lipliner, lip gloss, and blusher. The latter however turned out to be, time and again, a source of pimples for me, which I gladly and vehemently tossed in the bin.
But I stopped short of applying any eye make-up. My twin sister, on the other hand, is quite hands-on about eye make-up. Eye-shadow she dabbed on like a pro. Three years back and post-engagement, I began experimenting with eye make-up, specifically eyeliner. After marriage, I remember my younger sister commented that she was impressed that I managed to deftly tweak the liner on my upper lids. Those were the days.
This cosmetic walk down memory lane was jogged by this particular column which pokes fun at Zac Efron's (of High School Musical and Hairspray fame) love of 'mancake' and 'guyliner' and questions the market durability of men's line of 'make-up', or as it is euphemistically known, 'enhancement'. While the rest of the world looks set to embrace the idea of 'enhancing' a man's look, acceptance and enthusiasm Stateside are falling behind.
...the culture that gave birth to the rugged masculine ideal of the Marlboro Man may not be ready to reach for the blush brush just yet. A GQ survey in 2005 reported that "92 percent of men would not wear makeup even if it guaranteed them a more fulfilling sex life." U.S. sales figures seem to confirm the ongoing resistance to men's makeup...
Surprisingly, in this Metrosexual day and age, men are generally still uncertain and downright embarassed about applying mancake foundation and other 'enhancement' to cover their blemishes and spruce up their looks respectively. Probably, this indecisiveness is rightly so, as men try to preserve their overt masculinity in the face of insurmountable societal pressure to fit the well-groomed mould.
The genius of the metrosexual concept was that the term divorced men's grooming and primping habits from homosexuality: A metrosexual man could feel secure in his heterosexuality even as he spread his legs to get a bikini wax. Makeup seems to have a harder time avoiding direct associations to gayness: The term "men's makeup" conjures Boy George and drag queens rather than Brad Pitt or Tony Blair dabbing on powder to conceal dark circles.
Ironically enough, in the Islamic tradition, applying kohl around the eyelids has been part of men's grooming set for several centuries. Even our Prophet Muhammad (p.b.u.h.) brought a kohl jar, amongst others, when he travelled. Middle Eastern men have been putting on kohl for years. So when Fall Out Boy's frontman, Pete Wentz made the headlines for his so-called radical eyelined image, I was not wholly impressed. Stale news.
(Note: Different schools of thought draw the distinction on the permissibility of kohl as opposed to modern concoction of eyeliner, or in this case, guyliner)
Personally, I mind the least bit men with kohl applied on their eyelids but I draw the line at dabbing on foundation. It is TOO vain and effeminate even for my unconventional taste.
For the future, I believe the market for men's 'enhancement' is set to roll big monies for cosmetics companies willing to play by the hidden rules - 'concealing' the obvious emasculating attributes of make-up through a successful brand management of exclusive 'manly' products.
As male's gender identity continues to evolve, so would the range of aesthethic items for men. In the mean time, you can bet young, nubile fans and movie producers will make a beeline for the likes of Zac Efron.
As for moi, it's nice to sit back and watch men getting the pressure of looking the part for a change!
What is love Baby, don't hurt me Don't hurt me no more
What if love is quantifiable?
I mean, what if there is a device, a contraption, a thingamajig that one could use to measure love in all its glory? The love that a beloved feels for you. Wouldn't that be awesome?
It might be a needle that you prick into your blood vein, a headgear you wear to monitor brain activity or a blood sugar test to ascertain some arcane chemical reaction when you are in love. Wouldn't it be neat?
I don't know about you, but this nifty contrivance would provide succor to those in dire need of some mediation, revelation or a bit of nudge in the right direction as far as romantic involvement is concerned.
A word of caution is however advised. Attesting to all gradations and phases of love - dating, engagement, cohabitation, marriage - this invention might work for or against you.
For those in a marriage, it could be used as an indicator of a successful union, or conversely, as a warning to a partner lest the other might be straying off. As such, in its pessimistic form, the device could serve as an acid test for that reprehensible and ignominious trait - womanising, cheating, philandering, the whole shebang. Essentially (or perhaps theoretically), it will ward off and nip in the bud infidelity, or thoughts of committing infidelity.
Yet, like any other contraptions that come to pass, this one is undoubtedly not without its hitches. Or rather, a host of circumstances prevent it from becoming effective and therefore from rendering it foolproof.
In the first place, love goes through a cycle. You can never be expected to feel enamoured ALL the time. There will be times when you feel angry at your partner or spouse for uttering hurtful words, imaginable or otherwise, and wish him or her to be out of your sight. Surely, the whatchamacallit might register a low score, at that particular moment in time, for your love towards that person. That would be griveous and misleading indeed.
And how about jealousy? Is that a signal of love or an abomination of love? To which angle would it venture on the Love Scale? Again, the readings might get screwy and misinterpreted by the ones affected, either to their detriment or to their folly.
On the flip side, obsession which is, more often than not, an unhealthy form of love can shoot up in measurement, if certain standards/disclaimers/qualifications fail to be drawn up at the outset. A slew of these outliers prove to be disadvantageous to the device's widespread use and acceptance.
Alas, the practicality of such a thingamabob seems elusive at best, and complicated at worst. What then should we count on (pun intended)? Perhaps when it comes to matters of the heart, there is no such thing as a cookie-cutter, simplistic approach to resolving relationship woes.
Marriages, the most sacred and beautiful of institutions, are full of ups and downs, have its peaks and troughs, and the occasional bump on the road. Naturally, you are not going to experience that gooey-marshmallowey love 24/7. Unless of course you are screwy. There are times when you have to wade through the difficult period, pick up the broken pieces and other clichéd sayings.
Although you no longer feel that initial, euphoric high of love in its heyday of courtship and honeymoon years, the love that you've sown together all those years will be there, like an underbrush, latent yet powerful, giving that immeasurable support to the Marriage tree that the two of you have built from the ground up!
Love develops, grows, and eventually plateaus. A litany of I-Love-Yous might confound the skeptics and melt the die-hard romantics. For the realists however, the three words are fine and dandy but a diminutive gesture of love goes even a long way.
Comic is taken from here Note: While studying in the States, Saturday Night Live (SNL) had become a weekend fixture for me. The above video is one of memorable skits from the show.
I came across this article towards the end of last week and quickly heaved a sigh of relief.
The first thing that came to mind was "Finally!"
In the Health section of New York Times, the column elucidates that co-sleeping - the term used for young children sleeping with their parents - is actually quite prevalent in the Western world than what was priorly reported. This finding arose from the fact that parents are not completely truthful about their children's sleeping habits, choosing to inform only the place where these kids start off the night - in their bed - but not where they likely to end up in the morning - their parents' bed.
Many parents are “closet co-sleepers,” fearful of disapproval if anyone finds out, notes James J. McKenna, professor of anthropology and director of the Mother-Baby Behavioral Sleep Laboratory at the University of Notre Dame.
“They’re tired of being censured or criticized,” Dr. McKenna said. “It’s not just that their babies are being judged negatively for not being a good baby compared to the baby who sleeps by himself, but they’re being judged badly for having these babies and being needy.”
The negative perception attached to co-sleeping discourages, and even hinders concerned, well-meaning parents from revealing the whole truth, and nothing but the truth with respect to the sleeping arrangement in their households. They are afraid of being branded as incompetent caregivers for failing to follow the pediatrician's/medical experts' advice.
In the past, I have heard conflicting views about co-sleeping but the majority of them consider this practice to be counterproductive on the baby's health and/or development of healthy sleeping habits. While I agree that babies in general must learn to fall asleep on their own without the aid of soothers or nursing, I can't see the immediate, strong correlation between co-sleeping and raising a needy child. I believe every child has his or her own needy moments, regardless of what their parents claim to the contrary. Likewise, caring mothers are not exempt from experiencing to some degree a separation anxiety from their child in the different stages of their lives. As my take on an age-old adage clearly advocates: "To err is human, to be needy is to be maternal" :)
After Sadia's birth, I was mostly bedbound for the traditional 40-day postnatal confinement at my parents' house. So naturally my bambino lied on the bed with me for breastfeeding and cuddling purposes. The truth of the matter is we chose not to purchase a babycot because we're leaving for the Netherlands in the following four months after the baby's arrival. Or so we thought.
Thus, buying a mammoth-size crib which we would only be using for that brief timeframe seemed unpractical, nor was it financially prudent. Instead, we invested in a small, orthopedically-enhanced baby mattress and pillow which have become Sadia's staple everywhere we travel. Even to Gay Paree, her miniature sleeping set shared a place in our plush French provincial bed.
Much to our dismay, we only found out the postponement of hubby's Masters programme in early June, close to the planned departure date. By that time, it was too late to buy the proverbial babycot which I truly coveted.
In early September when we left for the Netherlands, we became so used with this type of sleeping arrangement that we really didn't think twice about getting a babycot. Also, the university-run apartment came equipped with a baby playpen which could double up as a sleeping place for Sadia. However, that thought proved to be only wishful thinking.
After a traumatic episode of Sadia falling off the bed in December 2006, I turned more protective and insistent on having her by my side than ever. Camping upstairs with minimal lighting to surf the Net and write my blog alongside a snoring Sadia while hubby worked on his thesis downstairs sums up our nightly routine for the most parts of our Dutch sojourn.
Now that we are back home for good, the cumbersome task of teaching Sadia to sleep in her own bed figures largely in our tiny universe. The longer and bigger she gets, the more pressing and imminent the move is. Granted, a gamut of issues run in our heads, from the placement, to the patterns and to the materials. Yet, the paramount of which is actually convincing Sadia to lie down and stay in bed for the whole duration of the night!
I know it'd be next to impossible for the time being, particularly when she has yet to be weaned off and is adapting to life in Malaysia. It's one thing to be uprooted from Delft and it's another to move to a different bedpost. Slowly does it...
Due to these circumstances, for the timebeing, I'm not complaining....well that much. As the writer succinctly ended her article,
“I can tell you with certainty,” he (her pediatrician) says, “that one day you will wake up, and she won’t be there.”
Sooner or later, Sadia will grow up, gladly move to her own bed, have sleepovers at her friends' place, go to college and finally fly the coop after getting married! So no need to fuss so much about what the 'medical community' in the West order you to do. They are not living under your roof!
Savouring (and enduring) this growing-up years encapsulates the motivation I hold in parenting my kid(s). True, she can be handful at times, but if my eldest sister and mother who each have five children can do it, mine should be a cinch! ;)
Born in Kota Bharu, Kelantan (to a pseudo-Kelantanese father and a homegrown Kampung Baru mother) and bred in Shah Alam, Selangor of Malaysia, half of a twin, US-educated, politically-inclined, religiously-biased, felines-crazed, florally-motivated, caffeine-recidivist, nicotine-averse, cinema-addict, dictionary-phile. The smell of freshly-mown grass, the smell that precedes a downpour as well as my baby's au naturelle smell are God's infinite gift of endorphins to me.
