I am sorry to say that I am taking a break from this blog. Many things are happening in my life right now that require my serious attention and focus, many of which dig into the very core of my personal life. There are many issues and experiences to blog about but sadly, it's something I am only willing to share anonymously. So, as you know who I am in 'real' life, know what I do, what I like to eat and where I climb, until all these issues are resolved and life takes on its rose-tinted, light-heartedness once again, I bid you adieu.
This blog has helped tremendously along my journey and I've tried hard here to be truthful and honest. I won't be serving it any justice by blogging about trivia that does not touch on what I am feeling at the moment. And in case that sounded like I'm having a major meltdown, I'm not. I'm feeling what everyone in their thirties feels, only my life has spun itself into more complications than the regular.
If you notice, this is not the first time on this blog that I have taken a hiatus. It just needs to be done every now and then. Time now, to move on to another subject - to lie low until the flood waters recede (sorry, I have to make some reference to the sad situation down south). Perhaps its time to revive the old food blog.
Thank you for stopping by and for all your thoughtful comments. I am grateful for the interest and the sharing.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Friday, January 05, 2007
New Year, New Beginnings
Happy New Year everyone. May 2007 bring you lashings of happiness, good fortune and health. May you find what it is you are looking for.
I certainly hope I do.
The fact that my microwave broke down as it was defrosting my leftover lasagna and my new-ish Nokia decided not to work as I was receiving new year messages left me wondering. As I pondered whether someone upstairs was trying to tell me something about my life, the pen I was writing with broke in half and my son dropped the house phone thereby rendering it unworkable.
This is after I discovered a few days before 2006 closed its sleepy eyes that my maid had been sneaking out of the house to meet her Mexican boyfriend and giving out my home address to literally, every Tom, Dick and Harry.
Then a series of little mishaps, my Touch 'N Go card refusing to work as I exited a shopping mall, my electric gate refusing to lock, my cheques bouncing because of the holiday period and the bank charging me RM100 for it, my son starting school with a schedule that no flexi-time could possibly adhere to. All this culminated in some rapid decision-making as 2006 handed over the torch to 2007. The live in maid structure goes, I will do everything myself with the help of a part timer. I am selling my house and buying a new apartment. Returning to full time and a full bank account has to wait until some dust settles.
I don't mean to begin the new year with a big whinge and frankly, I don't see it that way at all. In fact, I have discovered that while gardening is absilutely no fun at all, hanging clothes up to dry is.
Yes it's certainly an unusual situation to find oneself in and though some may argue I am denial, I think not. I am sitting alone in a dark house after throwing out the garbage with a wry smile on my face rather that in a pond of salty tears. The shit has hit the fan and funnily enough,I reckon that shit raining down on you is an experience one must savour at least once in their life time.
I guess, it's all a message, a cause and effect. Perhaps I ventured on with my life too soon. Rushed into things. Ran a hasty race. Cut too many corners. Too eager to get to the finish line first with all the trophies in hand. And certain foundations, pillars and corner stones were not put in place.
Lesson No. 1: You can't get from A to Z and bypass all the letters in the alphabet without a proper infrastructure in place.
So 2007 begins back at square 1. It's back to basics beginning with a process of re-evaluation, putting workable and reliable systems in place and only thereafter can the building blocks come out to play.
I suppose not everyone will have a blast doing this. It is in essence, taking several steps backwards, but a move that is both necessary and essential for any future growth. I am as ever, grateful for this to happen now - better sooner than later I have been saying.
This is not about of horrid luck, in fact, its a blessing in disguise.
So whilst I don't wish shit to rain down on everyone (there must be a better way of doing this!), but I do wish you all progress, smooth transitions and welcoming chapters.
I certainly hope I do.
The fact that my microwave broke down as it was defrosting my leftover lasagna and my new-ish Nokia decided not to work as I was receiving new year messages left me wondering. As I pondered whether someone upstairs was trying to tell me something about my life, the pen I was writing with broke in half and my son dropped the house phone thereby rendering it unworkable.
This is after I discovered a few days before 2006 closed its sleepy eyes that my maid had been sneaking out of the house to meet her Mexican boyfriend and giving out my home address to literally, every Tom, Dick and Harry.
Then a series of little mishaps, my Touch 'N Go card refusing to work as I exited a shopping mall, my electric gate refusing to lock, my cheques bouncing because of the holiday period and the bank charging me RM100 for it, my son starting school with a schedule that no flexi-time could possibly adhere to. All this culminated in some rapid decision-making as 2006 handed over the torch to 2007. The live in maid structure goes, I will do everything myself with the help of a part timer. I am selling my house and buying a new apartment. Returning to full time and a full bank account has to wait until some dust settles.
I don't mean to begin the new year with a big whinge and frankly, I don't see it that way at all. In fact, I have discovered that while gardening is absilutely no fun at all, hanging clothes up to dry is.
Yes it's certainly an unusual situation to find oneself in and though some may argue I am denial, I think not. I am sitting alone in a dark house after throwing out the garbage with a wry smile on my face rather that in a pond of salty tears. The shit has hit the fan and funnily enough,I reckon that shit raining down on you is an experience one must savour at least once in their life time.
I guess, it's all a message, a cause and effect. Perhaps I ventured on with my life too soon. Rushed into things. Ran a hasty race. Cut too many corners. Too eager to get to the finish line first with all the trophies in hand. And certain foundations, pillars and corner stones were not put in place.
Lesson No. 1: You can't get from A to Z and bypass all the letters in the alphabet without a proper infrastructure in place.
So 2007 begins back at square 1. It's back to basics beginning with a process of re-evaluation, putting workable and reliable systems in place and only thereafter can the building blocks come out to play.
I suppose not everyone will have a blast doing this. It is in essence, taking several steps backwards, but a move that is both necessary and essential for any future growth. I am as ever, grateful for this to happen now - better sooner than later I have been saying.
This is not about of horrid luck, in fact, its a blessing in disguise.
So whilst I don't wish shit to rain down on everyone (there must be a better way of doing this!), but I do wish you all progress, smooth transitions and welcoming chapters.
New Year, New Beginnings
Happy New Year everyone. May 2007 bring you lashings of happiness, good fortune and health. May you find what it is you are looking for.
I certainly hope I do.
The fact that my microwave broke down as it was defrosting my leftover lasagna and my new-ish Nokia decided not to work as I was receiving new year messages left me wondering. As I pondered whether someone upstairs was trying to tell me something about my life, the pen I was writing with broke in half and my son dropped the house phone thereby rendering it unworkable.
This is after I discovered a few days before 2006 closed its sleepy eyes that my maid had been sneaking out of the house to meet her Mexican boyfriend and giving out my home address to literally, every Tom, Dick and Harry.
Then a series of little mishaps, my Touch 'N Go card refusing to work as I exited a shopping mall, my electric gate refusing to lock, my cheques bouncing because of the holiday period and the bank charging me RM100 for it, my son starting school with a schedule that no flexi-time could possibly adhere to. All this culminated in some rapid decision-making as 2006 handed over the torch to 2007. The live in maid structure goes, I will do everything myself with the help of a part timer. I am selling my house and buying a new apartment. Returning to full time and a full bank account has to wait until some dust settles.
I don't mean to begin the new year with a big whinge and frankly, I don't see it that way at all. In fact, I have discovered that while gardening is absilutely no fun at all, hanging clothes up to dry is.
Yes it's certainly an unusual situation to find oneself in and though some may argue I am denial, I think not. I am sitting alone in a dark house after throwing out the garbage with a wry smile on my face rather that in a pond of salty tears. The shit has hit the fan and funnily enough,I reckon that shit raining down on you is an experience one must savour at least once in their life time.
I guess, it's all a message, a cause and effect. Perhaps I ventured on with my life too soon. Rushed into things. Ran a hasty race. Cut too many corners. Too eager to get to the finish line first with all the trophies in hand. And certain foundations, pillars and corner stones were not put in place.
Lesson No. 1: You can't get from A to Z and bypass all the letters in the alphabet without a proper infrastructure in place.
So 2007 begins back at square 1. It's back to basics beginning with a process of re-evaluation, putting workable and reliable systems in place and only thereafter can the building blocks come out to play.
I suppose not everyone will have a blast doing this. It is in essence, taking several steps backwards, but a move that is both necessary and essential for any future growth. I am as ever, grateful for this to happen now - better sooner than later I have been saying.
This is not about of horrid luck, in fact, its a blessing in disguise.
So whilst I don't wish shit to rain down on everyone (there must be a better way of doing this!), but I do wish you all progress, smooth transitions and welcoming chapters.
I certainly hope I do.
The fact that my microwave broke down as it was defrosting my leftover lasagna and my new-ish Nokia decided not to work as I was receiving new year messages left me wondering. As I pondered whether someone upstairs was trying to tell me something about my life, the pen I was writing with broke in half and my son dropped the house phone thereby rendering it unworkable.
This is after I discovered a few days before 2006 closed its sleepy eyes that my maid had been sneaking out of the house to meet her Mexican boyfriend and giving out my home address to literally, every Tom, Dick and Harry.
Then a series of little mishaps, my Touch 'N Go card refusing to work as I exited a shopping mall, my electric gate refusing to lock, my cheques bouncing because of the holiday period and the bank charging me RM100 for it, my son starting school with a schedule that no flexi-time could possibly adhere to. All this culminated in some rapid decision-making as 2006 handed over the torch to 2007. The live in maid structure goes, I will do everything myself with the help of a part timer. I am selling my house and buying a new apartment. Returning to full time and a full bank account has to wait until some dust settles.
I don't mean to begin the new year with a big whinge and frankly, I don't see it that way at all. In fact, I have discovered that while gardening is absilutely no fun at all, hanging clothes up to dry is.
Yes it's certainly an unusual situation to find oneself in and though some may argue I am denial, I think not. I am sitting alone in a dark house after throwing out the garbage with a wry smile on my face rather that in a pond of salty tears. The shit has hit the fan and funnily enough,I reckon that shit raining down on you is an experience one must savour at least once in their life time.
I guess, it's all a message, a cause and effect. Perhaps I ventured on with my life too soon. Rushed into things. Ran a hasty race. Cut too many corners. Too eager to get to the finish line first with all the trophies in hand. And certain foundations, pillars and corner stones were not put in place.
Lesson No. 1: You can't get from A to Z and bypass all the letters in the alphabet without a proper infrastructure in place.
So 2007 begins back at square 1. It's back to basics beginning with a process of re-evaluation, putting workable and reliable systems in place and only thereafter can the building blocks come out to play.
I suppose not everyone will have a blast doing this. It is in essence, taking several steps backwards, but a move that is both necessary and essential for any future growth. I am as ever, grateful for this to happen now - better sooner than later I have been saying.
This is not about of horrid luck, in fact, its a blessing in disguise.
So whilst I don't wish shit to rain down on everyone (there must be a better way of doing this!), but I do wish you all progress, smooth transitions and welcoming chapters.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Let It Snow, let it snow, let it snow
Happy year-end all! Wishing you good tidings for the year ahead, may it be filled with happiness and fulfillment.
December is one of my favourite months in the year, apart from February which the month of my birthday, and June just because I like the sound of it. December is when people take time off work, dress in shorts, gush loudly about their holidays in the snow, bump into old friends in neighbourhood shopping malls, throw parties and are generous with the invitations, up the ante on charity work, make long distance calls and frankly, eat themselves silly. A time when young children cry at the realisation that snowflakes don't exist in Malaysia.
It's a time when people are relaxed, jolly, friendly and as genuinely caring as they are going to get in a town like KL. It's a time of nostalgia and hope, of spirit and energy. I think it's a time where people adopt a hidden grace and unlike the din of CNY where its actually expected of you to be big and brash, Christmas and New Year demands a certain refinement of character that suggests that all the well wishing may actually rub off on you after all.
Nonetheless, it's still an unbelievably hectic time of year. Of baking, shopping, eating and socialising. I really feel like I've slogged the whole year, where in actual fact, I've really just pushed myself in the last 3 weeks. My belly would make a moist char siu, my internal organs are groaning in unison from its squashed confinements, my eye are bags the size of the latest Samsonite model and my voice resembles a scratchy old record discovered in the attic.
The pressies have been good this year. I got a funky vanity case, M&S underwear, snacks and trinkets, Tom Parker Bowls' The Year Eating Dangerously, a carabiner, accessories, Pink Floyds's newly released The Wall DVD, a jar of home-made lemon curd and a tin of ginger biscuits. Yayy!
I am looking forward to welcoming the new year at home, with my son, watching the Star Wars special on telly. Maybe I'll throw another party. Hmmm...shall I, shall I??!
December is one of my favourite months in the year, apart from February which the month of my birthday, and June just because I like the sound of it. December is when people take time off work, dress in shorts, gush loudly about their holidays in the snow, bump into old friends in neighbourhood shopping malls, throw parties and are generous with the invitations, up the ante on charity work, make long distance calls and frankly, eat themselves silly. A time when young children cry at the realisation that snowflakes don't exist in Malaysia.
It's a time when people are relaxed, jolly, friendly and as genuinely caring as they are going to get in a town like KL. It's a time of nostalgia and hope, of spirit and energy. I think it's a time where people adopt a hidden grace and unlike the din of CNY where its actually expected of you to be big and brash, Christmas and New Year demands a certain refinement of character that suggests that all the well wishing may actually rub off on you after all.
Nonetheless, it's still an unbelievably hectic time of year. Of baking, shopping, eating and socialising. I really feel like I've slogged the whole year, where in actual fact, I've really just pushed myself in the last 3 weeks. My belly would make a moist char siu, my internal organs are groaning in unison from its squashed confinements, my eye are bags the size of the latest Samsonite model and my voice resembles a scratchy old record discovered in the attic.
The pressies have been good this year. I got a funky vanity case, M&S underwear, snacks and trinkets, Tom Parker Bowls' The Year Eating Dangerously, a carabiner, accessories, Pink Floyds's newly released The Wall DVD, a jar of home-made lemon curd and a tin of ginger biscuits. Yayy!
I am looking forward to welcoming the new year at home, with my son, watching the Star Wars special on telly. Maybe I'll throw another party. Hmmm...shall I, shall I??!
Friday, December 08, 2006
What is it about love?
That has us up in arms, entangled in questions, spun up in theories and rhetoric? How come it is that some people just have that je ne sais quois, that intangible magnetism, that draws romantic interest to them effortlessly, whilst others are so magnetically insipid they may as well as have dropped of the edge of Planet Love. And I'm not talking about looks or anything like that here. Whilst yes, it is probably correct to assume your regular celup VJ on telly openly gets more fanfare than the regular lian on the street, but then again, the regular lian on the street, may just well be the silent one to watch.
There exists a particular breed of female species of questionable origin (maybe they are aliens?) that appear in various forms. They range from superhot to super normal, some have blonde streaks, some have black roots, some prefer LV bags, others prefer knapsacks. But they all have one common denominator. They have an innate ability to draw men to them. In hordes.
No, these men don't flock, they throw themselves at these girls, not in search of something as banal as sex, but brandishing jewels, supplementary platinum cards, G3 phones and champagne roses - serving up their eternal love on gold platters alongside self-composed song lyrics and marriage proposals. And what have these girls done to be worthy recipients of so many suitors? Apparently, absolutely nothing.
"I was just crossing the road", claims one.
"All I did was smile", says another in defense.
Then there are the regulars (guess which category I fall into?), who are non-offensive, resonably intelligent, fun-loving and capable of a conversation or two. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Empty glass. No man, no woman. Nothing. Like the dry, dusty road in the middle of North Dakota that witnesses the pleasure of a passing car once in six months. Or is it a year?
Exactly how does this work? I just don't understand it. I've studied these chicks in action and I am sad to say, I am no closer to their secrets than before - is it in the wink, the subtle drop of the eyes, the manicured toes, the accidental brush of a shoulder? I just don't know.
A bunch of girly friends and I practiced our "come hither" looks last night which had us rolling on the floor, cackling like hyenas rather than smouldering like seductive goddesses. Maybe we should have spent our time painting our toe nails instead.
Whatever it is, kudos girlies with the pearlies. Perhaps one day, you will share. Meanwhile, the market is yours to conquer!
There exists a particular breed of female species of questionable origin (maybe they are aliens?) that appear in various forms. They range from superhot to super normal, some have blonde streaks, some have black roots, some prefer LV bags, others prefer knapsacks. But they all have one common denominator. They have an innate ability to draw men to them. In hordes.
No, these men don't flock, they throw themselves at these girls, not in search of something as banal as sex, but brandishing jewels, supplementary platinum cards, G3 phones and champagne roses - serving up their eternal love on gold platters alongside self-composed song lyrics and marriage proposals. And what have these girls done to be worthy recipients of so many suitors? Apparently, absolutely nothing.
"I was just crossing the road", claims one.
"All I did was smile", says another in defense.
Then there are the regulars (guess which category I fall into?), who are non-offensive, resonably intelligent, fun-loving and capable of a conversation or two. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Empty glass. No man, no woman. Nothing. Like the dry, dusty road in the middle of North Dakota that witnesses the pleasure of a passing car once in six months. Or is it a year?
Exactly how does this work? I just don't understand it. I've studied these chicks in action and I am sad to say, I am no closer to their secrets than before - is it in the wink, the subtle drop of the eyes, the manicured toes, the accidental brush of a shoulder? I just don't know.
A bunch of girly friends and I practiced our "come hither" looks last night which had us rolling on the floor, cackling like hyenas rather than smouldering like seductive goddesses. Maybe we should have spent our time painting our toe nails instead.
Whatever it is, kudos girlies with the pearlies. Perhaps one day, you will share. Meanwhile, the market is yours to conquer!
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
No Words
Yesterday, a friend walked into work, turned on his computer, opened his emails like we do day in, day out and discovered that his brother had passed away a week ago. It's not the best news to start the day off with, but then again, is there ever a good time for bad news?
I imagine he must have been in a daze, but he was surrounded by support, and the presence of a Tibetan monk, that whilst in no way makes the pain any lesser, is more than what most people have around them and I guess, makes that first day easier to deal with in the face of the many to come.
I watched my friend blink back the tears and carry on, step by step. I only imagine how difficult it must have been. And today is another day. Another day to carry the loss, and another day closer to healing.
Compassion welled up within me and my throat choked with emotion, yet I could find no words to say, no actions to impart that could make the pain go away.
Death confounds me. Over the years, I have come to realise that I don't know how to deal with it. Therefore, I have admired from a physical distance as my closest and dearest friends and family move through the motions of mourning the departed.
I would not say I am fortunate to be spared the experience so far, for whilst I do not wish death to come anytime soon or under tragic circumstances, I am aware that it is inevitable and so is dealing with it. It may not happen today or tomorrow, but it will somewhere down the line. I can only imagine the shock and pain and I truly doubt that I have it in me to see it through with grace.
I can only express my highest regard for people around me who have lost a mother, a father, a brother, a sister or a child. For they hold themselves up so well in the face of grief, and moved on in acceptance. It's strength in at its steeliest, bravery at its best and I have nothing but utmost admiration in return.
I just want to say to my friends and family who have lost, and you know who you are - that I am sorry I did not comfort you at a time it was most needed, for it's not that I do not care, it's just that I don't know how. I only know how to make people smile, but in the face of death, smiling just doesn't seem to be right. I have racked my mind for the most appropriate thing to say but it doesn't exist. Even sending my condolences or saying "I'm sorry" seems empty. Please take my silent presence as support for that's as much as I know how to give.
I imagine he must have been in a daze, but he was surrounded by support, and the presence of a Tibetan monk, that whilst in no way makes the pain any lesser, is more than what most people have around them and I guess, makes that first day easier to deal with in the face of the many to come.
I watched my friend blink back the tears and carry on, step by step. I only imagine how difficult it must have been. And today is another day. Another day to carry the loss, and another day closer to healing.
Compassion welled up within me and my throat choked with emotion, yet I could find no words to say, no actions to impart that could make the pain go away.
Death confounds me. Over the years, I have come to realise that I don't know how to deal with it. Therefore, I have admired from a physical distance as my closest and dearest friends and family move through the motions of mourning the departed.
I would not say I am fortunate to be spared the experience so far, for whilst I do not wish death to come anytime soon or under tragic circumstances, I am aware that it is inevitable and so is dealing with it. It may not happen today or tomorrow, but it will somewhere down the line. I can only imagine the shock and pain and I truly doubt that I have it in me to see it through with grace.
I can only express my highest regard for people around me who have lost a mother, a father, a brother, a sister or a child. For they hold themselves up so well in the face of grief, and moved on in acceptance. It's strength in at its steeliest, bravery at its best and I have nothing but utmost admiration in return.
I just want to say to my friends and family who have lost, and you know who you are - that I am sorry I did not comfort you at a time it was most needed, for it's not that I do not care, it's just that I don't know how. I only know how to make people smile, but in the face of death, smiling just doesn't seem to be right. I have racked my mind for the most appropriate thing to say but it doesn't exist. Even sending my condolences or saying "I'm sorry" seems empty. Please take my silent presence as support for that's as much as I know how to give.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
It's that time of the month when I.....
* Wonder why my life resembles the plot of Das Boot
* Ask myself what I want and my answers are the same as my son's - KitKat Chunky, KitKat Lemon Cheesecake, KitKat White Chunky, KitKat, KitKat, KitKat
* Sob uncontrollably watching festive commercials
* Turn into a knife-wielding psycho if my maid slices the carrots diagonally instead of julliening them
* Suck in my stomach and I still look alot like Roseanne Barr
* Have options but consider them to be obstacles
* Want to drink - alot - but can't handle the hangover(s)
* Think my life is hopeless and it is
* Truly believe that I will die the infatuated old woman at the beginning of Superman Returns minus the money
* Fool myself into believing that chee cheong fun, nasi lemak and Frosties cornflakes contain no carbohydrates nor sugar nor fat
* Want to buy a carton of Salem Lights and smoke the night away
* Dream of climbing but paranoid that I might leave a giant red stain on the wall that might be mistaken as a hand hold
*Actually buy daisies and rip out their petals whilst melodiously singing, "he loves me", "he loves me not" and then tearing their heads out of their stems
* Am so bloated, I may just float away like a giant red balloon.
Happy, happy Mid Week everyone!
* Ask myself what I want and my answers are the same as my son's - KitKat Chunky, KitKat Lemon Cheesecake, KitKat White Chunky, KitKat, KitKat, KitKat
* Sob uncontrollably watching festive commercials
* Turn into a knife-wielding psycho if my maid slices the carrots diagonally instead of julliening them
* Suck in my stomach and I still look alot like Roseanne Barr
* Have options but consider them to be obstacles
* Want to drink - alot - but can't handle the hangover(s)
* Think my life is hopeless and it is
* Truly believe that I will die the infatuated old woman at the beginning of Superman Returns minus the money
* Fool myself into believing that chee cheong fun, nasi lemak and Frosties cornflakes contain no carbohydrates nor sugar nor fat
* Want to buy a carton of Salem Lights and smoke the night away
* Dream of climbing but paranoid that I might leave a giant red stain on the wall that might be mistaken as a hand hold
*Actually buy daisies and rip out their petals whilst melodiously singing, "he loves me", "he loves me not" and then tearing their heads out of their stems
* Am so bloated, I may just float away like a giant red balloon.
Happy, happy Mid Week everyone!
Friday, November 17, 2006
School's Out!
Today is the last day my son will spend in his nursery school. It's the closing of a chapter for him and come January he will begin a new one as he steps beyond the gates of a big new school with red uniforms.
He skips happily to his classroom and it is me who feels the sadness creep up. As I walk down the long open hallways, pass the mini toilets and gaily-coloured pictures of friendly lions, I wonder if he knows that life for him is about to take one of its many twists and turns - you know, those inevitable ones that change everything as you know it to be.
I am the one sending out notes to the Mums, desperately willing for them to call me lest our children lose touch. When I think back to my primary school days and recall my best friends then, all I can see are blurred images with form but no features. Sadly, they are the ones that I've not kept in touch with since school broke out.
The older I get and as time winds its course around, the childish quality of detachment gets slowly eroded away and I find myself increasingly reaching out and grasping whatever I can to just try and slow it down. Permanence is always elusive, forever out of reach.
He skips happily to his classroom and it is me who feels the sadness creep up. As I walk down the long open hallways, pass the mini toilets and gaily-coloured pictures of friendly lions, I wonder if he knows that life for him is about to take one of its many twists and turns - you know, those inevitable ones that change everything as you know it to be.
I am the one sending out notes to the Mums, desperately willing for them to call me lest our children lose touch. When I think back to my primary school days and recall my best friends then, all I can see are blurred images with form but no features. Sadly, they are the ones that I've not kept in touch with since school broke out.
The older I get and as time winds its course around, the childish quality of detachment gets slowly eroded away and I find myself increasingly reaching out and grasping whatever I can to just try and slow it down. Permanence is always elusive, forever out of reach.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Nowhere
If only you knew
How I've tried to erase
Your eyes from my gaze
The smile on your face
If only you knew
About my spirit you've enlivened
The sins that I’ve forgiven
Of being shy once bitten
If only you knew
The rush of my heart
Yet the calm I impart
Each time you depart
If only you knew
Of the stories of our lives
You would be surprised
To see the world I've weaved and contrived
If only you knew
Of the heart I wish I could fill
Your soul I would capture
The passion we could instill
'Cos then we wouldn’t be here
Me at mine, you at yours
Way past midnight
Wondering if there could be more
If only you knew, if only you knew
If only
How I've tried to erase
Your eyes from my gaze
The smile on your face
If only you knew
About my spirit you've enlivened
The sins that I’ve forgiven
Of being shy once bitten
If only you knew
The rush of my heart
Yet the calm I impart
Each time you depart
If only you knew
Of the stories of our lives
You would be surprised
To see the world I've weaved and contrived
If only you knew
Of the heart I wish I could fill
Your soul I would capture
The passion we could instill
'Cos then we wouldn’t be here
Me at mine, you at yours
Way past midnight
Wondering if there could be more
If only you knew, if only you knew
If only
Monday, November 13, 2006
Worried Wart
If you could add up all the time that you spent doing something completely worthless, you could add a good 10 years to your life I reckon.
Take worrying, for example. Some worrying is good, mind you. Like if you are worried about an exam, it may just be the impetus you need to get some revision done.
The worrying I'm talking about is the type that is completely unfounded. Ie. the one that has nothing to do with what's going on outside, but everythng to do with what's going on inside - in your mind to be exact.
Those who read my last blog entry and those who spoke to me last week would have known of the plight that consumed me 24 hours a day for about 7 days. I fussed over my diet, over whether to rest or to climb more that week, and nights were restless as I went over moves on imaginary routes in my mind. I was tired before I even began.
Saturday came and went, as did Sunday and I realised from the moment I sat down to listen to the instructer, white-knuckled and tense, to the moment I unclipped my last quickdraw at the bottom of the route in Batu Caves, I realised that I had been wasting my time.
And I don't mean the lead climbing course.
I did not get kicked off the class, did not do anything unneccessarily stupid (except for forgetting to clip myself to the anchor on my first climb and for not screw-locking my carabina on the daisy chain). I may not have known the answer to some of the basics, but then again, I was there to learn. I was in essence, qualified to attend. And to appease my inner kiasu bitch, I don't think I was any lesser or weaker a climber than the rest of the 6 people who were on the same course, all of whom were male, by the way.
I have to consiously remind myself of how well I have done, how committed I am to it, how hard I work at it, and how lucky I am to have found a sport I can see myself doing for years to come. (Right now, I think I could devote my life to it, but that's cos I'm on a high.)
I do wonder that if I can apply this kind of self confidence to other areas of my life, that would a large problem solved wouldn't it? Why are we always doubting before we have a chance to prove ourselves? Why do we rely on reassurance to find our confidence?
I will never ever doubt my climbing again. Or allow anyone to cast a shadow of doubt over it. No, I am not a superb climber but I am not talking about standards here. I'm giving myself (the one with the forked tail sitting on my shoulder) a hard talking-to about knowing what I can do and what my limits are. It's highly personal information that only I am privy to and therefore nobody alive is in the position to sway me into self-doubt.
On that note, climbing ROCKS!
Take worrying, for example. Some worrying is good, mind you. Like if you are worried about an exam, it may just be the impetus you need to get some revision done.
The worrying I'm talking about is the type that is completely unfounded. Ie. the one that has nothing to do with what's going on outside, but everythng to do with what's going on inside - in your mind to be exact.
Those who read my last blog entry and those who spoke to me last week would have known of the plight that consumed me 24 hours a day for about 7 days. I fussed over my diet, over whether to rest or to climb more that week, and nights were restless as I went over moves on imaginary routes in my mind. I was tired before I even began.
Saturday came and went, as did Sunday and I realised from the moment I sat down to listen to the instructer, white-knuckled and tense, to the moment I unclipped my last quickdraw at the bottom of the route in Batu Caves, I realised that I had been wasting my time.
And I don't mean the lead climbing course.
I did not get kicked off the class, did not do anything unneccessarily stupid (except for forgetting to clip myself to the anchor on my first climb and for not screw-locking my carabina on the daisy chain). I may not have known the answer to some of the basics, but then again, I was there to learn. I was in essence, qualified to attend. And to appease my inner kiasu bitch, I don't think I was any lesser or weaker a climber than the rest of the 6 people who were on the same course, all of whom were male, by the way.
I have to consiously remind myself of how well I have done, how committed I am to it, how hard I work at it, and how lucky I am to have found a sport I can see myself doing for years to come. (Right now, I think I could devote my life to it, but that's cos I'm on a high.)
I do wonder that if I can apply this kind of self confidence to other areas of my life, that would a large problem solved wouldn't it? Why are we always doubting before we have a chance to prove ourselves? Why do we rely on reassurance to find our confidence?
I will never ever doubt my climbing again. Or allow anyone to cast a shadow of doubt over it. No, I am not a superb climber but I am not talking about standards here. I'm giving myself (the one with the forked tail sitting on my shoulder) a hard talking-to about knowing what I can do and what my limits are. It's highly personal information that only I am privy to and therefore nobody alive is in the position to sway me into self-doubt.
On that note, climbing ROCKS!
Thursday, November 09, 2006
You Are What You Eat
So there I am sitting underneath the 6B+ route wondering why I can't reach the top when I had done so on two previous occassions, and why my climbing buddy yesterday could practise - practise - his he-moves on the purple (probably 6a) when I couldn't even lift my torso above the small - small - overhang at the top. It is a route I know I can fly up and I don't why I was struggling.
Now, I'm taking the plunge and taking the lead course this weekend, which means large falls are in order. There are climbers who climb far better than me who don't feel they are ready to do it. Yet, I'm impatient to get to the good stuff and well, some people think I'm ready, and I would love to believe them.
But I simply cannot afford to climb like the woose that I have been in the last few weeks and scramble up a 6a. To say that I am nervous does not do my wobbly jellied stomach any justice. I have been obsessing about lead climbing for the longest time and being the irratic climber that I have been just does not cut it.
So I have spent many hours pondering about my suddenly atrocious climbing. Bad habits overtake technique when you are desperate to make a move. I'm placing my hands far too high above my head, not twisting enough for holds and not using techniques like the drop knee that I have learned (and used!).
Then I realised my diet. When I was eating anything I could get my hands on - ie. overloading - I was strong - in fact, I had to consciously tell myself to let my feet do the work and not my upper body. Then I became vegetarian for a month and quite frankly, that killed my climbing ability - I just did not have the strength to get very far. I really began climbing like an idiot. Then I started eating like a pig again and then climbing improved. But now, since I've been on Atkins, I am findung that whilst I have the strength to get quite high up the wall, I don't have the endurance. I get pumped so easily it's not funny.
So theoretically, if I begin including carbohydrates again in my food this week, I ought to be on track to climb up 6Bs without red pointing it. Ahh, if only it were that easy. The confidence is rattled and without that, you could have all the muscle in the world but it would still have you climbing like an idiot.
So what to do? Neorvous like hell. The course is from 10-3 on Sat and Sun and I just have a nasty feeling I'm going to make a complete fool of myself in front of everyone. It's like being back at school again and not being able to do the math.
Inner voice speaks:
This attitude won't do! You know you can handle 6Bs! You have done it indoors and outdoors! You just need to eat properly and you will be fine! You are just as capable as eveyone else on the course! No the instructer is not going to pick on you! Stop acting like a big baby!
Yeah yeah whatever....Boohooo, I'm scared!
Now, I'm taking the plunge and taking the lead course this weekend, which means large falls are in order. There are climbers who climb far better than me who don't feel they are ready to do it. Yet, I'm impatient to get to the good stuff and well, some people think I'm ready, and I would love to believe them.
But I simply cannot afford to climb like the woose that I have been in the last few weeks and scramble up a 6a. To say that I am nervous does not do my wobbly jellied stomach any justice. I have been obsessing about lead climbing for the longest time and being the irratic climber that I have been just does not cut it.
So I have spent many hours pondering about my suddenly atrocious climbing. Bad habits overtake technique when you are desperate to make a move. I'm placing my hands far too high above my head, not twisting enough for holds and not using techniques like the drop knee that I have learned (and used!).
Then I realised my diet. When I was eating anything I could get my hands on - ie. overloading - I was strong - in fact, I had to consciously tell myself to let my feet do the work and not my upper body. Then I became vegetarian for a month and quite frankly, that killed my climbing ability - I just did not have the strength to get very far. I really began climbing like an idiot. Then I started eating like a pig again and then climbing improved. But now, since I've been on Atkins, I am findung that whilst I have the strength to get quite high up the wall, I don't have the endurance. I get pumped so easily it's not funny.
So theoretically, if I begin including carbohydrates again in my food this week, I ought to be on track to climb up 6Bs without red pointing it. Ahh, if only it were that easy. The confidence is rattled and without that, you could have all the muscle in the world but it would still have you climbing like an idiot.
So what to do? Neorvous like hell. The course is from 10-3 on Sat and Sun and I just have a nasty feeling I'm going to make a complete fool of myself in front of everyone. It's like being back at school again and not being able to do the math.
Inner voice speaks:
This attitude won't do! You know you can handle 6Bs! You have done it indoors and outdoors! You just need to eat properly and you will be fine! You are just as capable as eveyone else on the course! No the instructer is not going to pick on you! Stop acting like a big baby!
Yeah yeah whatever....Boohooo, I'm scared!
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
May The Force Be With You
I am the classic consumer. The one you want walking into your shop. Throw me anything with a story, and most likely, I'll lap it up and buy one in every colour.
Lately, strange things have been happening, that have lead to even stranger things. It began with the snatching of the handbag. Then came the losing of the parking ticket and subsequent RM50 fine. Then the three failed attempts to the IC department to apply for a replacement - it just so happens that each time I went, their system happened to be down. And then the corresponsing 3 - also failed - attempts to KLCC Maybank to bank in cash - because funnily enough, their system was also down. The straw on the camel's back? Maybank charging me RM50 for being overdrawn as a result of a cheque clearing before I could bank in the money.
My yoga-practicing friends urged me to clear my qi. The chakras were clogged, they said. Practive yoga everyday and sweat it out, said one. Come visit my friend, a crystal healer, said the other.
The consumer in me stirred and I ran, money in hand, in hope for solutions in return.
What I got out of my crystal healer was not what I expected. Firstly, by peering into my chakras she saw thoughts and feelings that I had not even begun to put into words. Things old and new that I had known inside but not outside. I came out feeling refreshed - yes - like I just had a good cry. And for days after I felt calmer, more settled and for once, accepting.
But now, a few weeks later, I am faced with several unanswered questions. You know, those that don't have an answer? Those that you will probably have to search your whole life for and then discover on your death bed that there is no answer?
Do you believe in the universe? Not just about the existence of the planets and stuff they teach you in encyclopaedias, but the energies that dwell within. Do you believe in 'angels'?
The whole notion of asking from the universe and receiving, is foreign to me. Reward was always something you earned, something you did more than just will. But the more I think of it, the more it makes sense. Why would I not receive if I asked? If the universe is loving, if good and bad are principles created by man and therefore inapplicable in the larger scheme of things, why would I be deemed to receive if I merely asked?
It does appear to be the easy way out. Want something? Well, just ask for it. But isn't that what we do sub consciously anyway? It's no secret that you can will things to happen because without realising it, you are conditioning your mind and will to achieve it.
Strange but true. Since my session with the healer, new opportunitities have come my way. And I suppose it would be easy to say that they came because I asked the universe. But equally easy also to say that they came because the session centred the subject in my mind and I talked to people about them and when you do, I suppose opportunities make themselves seen.
I don't claim to fully understand the power of the universe and how it works. But if anything came from cleaning my chakras, it was a reminder of the power of the universe and the reinforcement that yes, things do happen by what we view as chance - messages sent from someone/something upstairs to draw our attentions. And then, once we are engaged, our minds and will are powerfil. We do the rest of the work really.
We do determine the path of our own lives ultimately, but I believe, within a pre-detemined setting and unseen parameters, and certainly with a little help along the way.
That's what I believe anyway. Right now. But who knows? What I believed 10 years ago, I don't now, so who's to say what new beliefs lie in the future. But that's life isn't it? Change.
Lately, strange things have been happening, that have lead to even stranger things. It began with the snatching of the handbag. Then came the losing of the parking ticket and subsequent RM50 fine. Then the three failed attempts to the IC department to apply for a replacement - it just so happens that each time I went, their system happened to be down. And then the corresponsing 3 - also failed - attempts to KLCC Maybank to bank in cash - because funnily enough, their system was also down. The straw on the camel's back? Maybank charging me RM50 for being overdrawn as a result of a cheque clearing before I could bank in the money.
My yoga-practicing friends urged me to clear my qi. The chakras were clogged, they said. Practive yoga everyday and sweat it out, said one. Come visit my friend, a crystal healer, said the other.
The consumer in me stirred and I ran, money in hand, in hope for solutions in return.
What I got out of my crystal healer was not what I expected. Firstly, by peering into my chakras she saw thoughts and feelings that I had not even begun to put into words. Things old and new that I had known inside but not outside. I came out feeling refreshed - yes - like I just had a good cry. And for days after I felt calmer, more settled and for once, accepting.
But now, a few weeks later, I am faced with several unanswered questions. You know, those that don't have an answer? Those that you will probably have to search your whole life for and then discover on your death bed that there is no answer?
Do you believe in the universe? Not just about the existence of the planets and stuff they teach you in encyclopaedias, but the energies that dwell within. Do you believe in 'angels'?
The whole notion of asking from the universe and receiving, is foreign to me. Reward was always something you earned, something you did more than just will. But the more I think of it, the more it makes sense. Why would I not receive if I asked? If the universe is loving, if good and bad are principles created by man and therefore inapplicable in the larger scheme of things, why would I be deemed to receive if I merely asked?
It does appear to be the easy way out. Want something? Well, just ask for it. But isn't that what we do sub consciously anyway? It's no secret that you can will things to happen because without realising it, you are conditioning your mind and will to achieve it.
Strange but true. Since my session with the healer, new opportunitities have come my way. And I suppose it would be easy to say that they came because I asked the universe. But equally easy also to say that they came because the session centred the subject in my mind and I talked to people about them and when you do, I suppose opportunities make themselves seen.
I don't claim to fully understand the power of the universe and how it works. But if anything came from cleaning my chakras, it was a reminder of the power of the universe and the reinforcement that yes, things do happen by what we view as chance - messages sent from someone/something upstairs to draw our attentions. And then, once we are engaged, our minds and will are powerfil. We do the rest of the work really.
We do determine the path of our own lives ultimately, but I believe, within a pre-detemined setting and unseen parameters, and certainly with a little help along the way.
That's what I believe anyway. Right now. But who knows? What I believed 10 years ago, I don't now, so who's to say what new beliefs lie in the future. But that's life isn't it? Change.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Say No To This!
Isn't Edwin a genius?I don't know why he didn't post this. It is by far my favourite photo of the Fairground Series.
It was the second ride we went on - when we were in between feeling really good and really bad, so it was a good ride.
Did I mention we are going again this weekend? And bringing suckers with us? It's going to be a hoot!
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Ageing Junkies
The Euro Fun Fair behind the 1 Utama Shopping Complex is a blast and brings me back to a time when I was at school in England, crunching on toffee apples and sneaking puffs from cigarettes.
It has the same tacky feel of a small fair - you know, the type where you wonder whether you will make it out alive but you still go anyway. As the Cranberries' 'Linger' blasted us up into what felt like space and caught us as we fell, I wondered why I was doing this to myself. Apart from the obvious exhilaration, the feeling also made me sick to the bone. At this age, one cannot afford to be knocked around like before.
Nevertheless, I still found myself venturing from one ridiculously scary ride to the next. Egged on by Edwin and our combined sense of kiasuness, we surrendered our bodies to the machines. Like rag dolls, we were swung us around at crazy speeds as centrifugal forces flung us into the sky and centripetal ones sat down hard on our chests, making breathing sorta out of the question. Not to forget also the strobe lighting placed at strategic spots to distort whatever sense of sky and earth we had left.
I can still taste the bile on the back of my tongue.
Still - I highly recommend it. There are plenty of kiddy rides too and on an earlier family visit, I proudly witnessed my son's first ever bumper car ride that ended appropriately beneath a stack of blockades. He also went on his first roller coaster with my father crammed into the front seat with him and I had the privelige of his muffling his bawls on the top of the Ferris Wheel - that came not from fear but anger from being deceived by this large wheel that did nothing but go round and round at a snails' pace.
It was a time to bump into friends in family mode - hungrily eyeing the bigger rides but having to settle for the kiddies carousel instead.
It comes by once a year I am told and I find it pretty reasonable. RM3 to get in of you are an adult, less for kids, and each ride, depending on fear factor ranges from RM4 to RM8. For great photos, click on to Edwin's Photoblog.
It has the same tacky feel of a small fair - you know, the type where you wonder whether you will make it out alive but you still go anyway. As the Cranberries' 'Linger' blasted us up into what felt like space and caught us as we fell, I wondered why I was doing this to myself. Apart from the obvious exhilaration, the feeling also made me sick to the bone. At this age, one cannot afford to be knocked around like before.
Nevertheless, I still found myself venturing from one ridiculously scary ride to the next. Egged on by Edwin and our combined sense of kiasuness, we surrendered our bodies to the machines. Like rag dolls, we were swung us around at crazy speeds as centrifugal forces flung us into the sky and centripetal ones sat down hard on our chests, making breathing sorta out of the question. Not to forget also the strobe lighting placed at strategic spots to distort whatever sense of sky and earth we had left.
I can still taste the bile on the back of my tongue.
Still - I highly recommend it. There are plenty of kiddy rides too and on an earlier family visit, I proudly witnessed my son's first ever bumper car ride that ended appropriately beneath a stack of blockades. He also went on his first roller coaster with my father crammed into the front seat with him and I had the privelige of his muffling his bawls on the top of the Ferris Wheel - that came not from fear but anger from being deceived by this large wheel that did nothing but go round and round at a snails' pace.
It was a time to bump into friends in family mode - hungrily eyeing the bigger rides but having to settle for the kiddies carousel instead.
It comes by once a year I am told and I find it pretty reasonable. RM3 to get in of you are an adult, less for kids, and each ride, depending on fear factor ranges from RM4 to RM8. For great photos, click on to Edwin's Photoblog.
Friday, October 27, 2006
The Layan
Like in the brochure, The Layan sits gaily on a hillside, terracotta and green against the stark blue sky of occasional clotted cloud. It strides the ridge it lives on, smiling prettily back at the lifeless, damp stretch of sand that is Layan Beach, a lesser-known, lesser-appeal cousin of postcard-exploited Surin and Bangtao further down current.
The two staff and the one grey-looking manager who greeted us at the reception did so with such zeal – as if they had not welcomed guests in an age. Smiles as large as calzones; eyes focusing just beyond our heads, as if we are shorter than meant to be.
“We welcome you vely much to Layan. We hope you stay vely long and enjoy.”
Gentle, melodious voices of hollow seduction.
In a triangle, the three lead us on an undulating garden path that seemed to take us nowhere, fringed with the sweet scent of jasmine, ash and fallen tropical fruit. I marvelled at how silent it was despite being so close to the sea. No squealing kids, no beach tunes, no wish-wash of waves in the distance. What a secluded hideaway!
The swaying gait of the three brought us finally to our room, at the far end of the resort, just before it hinges off the cliff. I blinked twice at the familiar sight of blackened trees in the sea. In a flashback they were green. The equatorial sun again, distorting colour and form.
Still, it was sunny, though the room had not been aired and smelled like well-aged dust.
We tipped the smiling porter, his shirt sleeve receiving the gratuity.
The three departed.
That night, tanked with too much local brew, the tuk tuk driver hurtled through the inky blackness, seemingly lost. He had looked a little perturbed when we asked to be taken back, glancing often at his rear view mirror at our pale, untanned faces. The salty sea air raked through our hair, breathing life into split ends.
After dead turns that met at the sea, we stopped for directions at a small, fluorescent-lit hut in the shadown of a hill. We gazed back at its ware of dead cockroaches.
We watched the Thai exchange and the wide-eyed look of disbelief register on cabbie’s pock-marked face.
He turned back at us, eyes in slits.
“You say Layan?”, he asked, voice suddenly gruff.
We nodded drunken yeses.
He paused. Right hand inched closer to his back.
“Cannot be…fire. Burn down 9 years aledi.”
"Evelybody die. All the staff. All the guests...", his voice trailed off as we smiled.
The two staff and the one grey-looking manager who greeted us at the reception did so with such zeal – as if they had not welcomed guests in an age. Smiles as large as calzones; eyes focusing just beyond our heads, as if we are shorter than meant to be.
“We welcome you vely much to Layan. We hope you stay vely long and enjoy.”
Gentle, melodious voices of hollow seduction.
In a triangle, the three lead us on an undulating garden path that seemed to take us nowhere, fringed with the sweet scent of jasmine, ash and fallen tropical fruit. I marvelled at how silent it was despite being so close to the sea. No squealing kids, no beach tunes, no wish-wash of waves in the distance. What a secluded hideaway!
The swaying gait of the three brought us finally to our room, at the far end of the resort, just before it hinges off the cliff. I blinked twice at the familiar sight of blackened trees in the sea. In a flashback they were green. The equatorial sun again, distorting colour and form.
Still, it was sunny, though the room had not been aired and smelled like well-aged dust.
We tipped the smiling porter, his shirt sleeve receiving the gratuity.
The three departed.
That night, tanked with too much local brew, the tuk tuk driver hurtled through the inky blackness, seemingly lost. He had looked a little perturbed when we asked to be taken back, glancing often at his rear view mirror at our pale, untanned faces. The salty sea air raked through our hair, breathing life into split ends.
After dead turns that met at the sea, we stopped for directions at a small, fluorescent-lit hut in the shadown of a hill. We gazed back at its ware of dead cockroaches.
We watched the Thai exchange and the wide-eyed look of disbelief register on cabbie’s pock-marked face.
He turned back at us, eyes in slits.
“You say Layan?”, he asked, voice suddenly gruff.
We nodded drunken yeses.
He paused. Right hand inched closer to his back.
“Cannot be…fire. Burn down 9 years aledi.”
"Evelybody die. All the staff. All the guests...", his voice trailed off as we smiled.
Monday, October 16, 2006
The Weekend
The Banquet - Whodunnit?!
Spent the weekend glued to the TV - The Devil Wears Prada (You go Meryl!), Basic Instinct 2 (the only things looking up were Sharon Stone's fake boobies), Crash (wow!), The Banquet (the ending is killing me!)
Why is rock climbing such an expensive sport?
(RM330 for the most beautiful pair of Evolv shoes, RMXXX for sending my shoes back to Saltic to be re-soled, RM300 to join CFas so that I can climb outdoors once a month, RMXXX for discovering I now have sweaty hands and am in need of chalk)
Does anyone die from OD-ing on eggs?
(Been on Atkins about a week now and it's been pretty OK except for the tub - yes tub, of pork floss I inhaled yesterday. Been eating truck loads of eggs...has anyone on Atkins ever died from high cholesterol?)
Why do men never call when they say they will??
(A universal mystery - enough said)
Spent the weekend glued to the TV - The Devil Wears Prada (You go Meryl!), Basic Instinct 2 (the only things looking up were Sharon Stone's fake boobies), Crash (wow!), The Banquet (the ending is killing me!)
Why is rock climbing such an expensive sport?
(RM330 for the most beautiful pair of Evolv shoes, RMXXX for sending my shoes back to Saltic to be re-soled, RM300 to join CFas so that I can climb outdoors once a month, RMXXX for discovering I now have sweaty hands and am in need of chalk)
Does anyone die from OD-ing on eggs?
(Been on Atkins about a week now and it's been pretty OK except for the tub - yes tub, of pork floss I inhaled yesterday. Been eating truck loads of eggs...has anyone on Atkins ever died from high cholesterol?)
Why do men never call when they say they will??
(A universal mystery - enough said)
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Shopping Binge Disorder (SBD)
People totally underestimate a woman's vanity. It often defies all logic and any measure of reasonableness. Take me, a prime example. Yesterday, like most days, I felt horribly horribly pudgy. I put on my 'slim' clothes and nearly fell over at how much weight I've put on from my vegetarian service to the environment. I stuck my tongue out at the Monster Fat Girl who stared back at me, defiantly waved my middle finger at the resolution to stop shopping, and drove like a maniac to Cats Whiskers - the shopperholics supermarket - and proceeded to shop, Shop, SHOP away the fat.
In this fat month, I daresay I have spent a shameful RM2k on attempting to beautify myself and make myself...well, less fat. I admit, it's a disgusting amount to spend when on a tight budget. I already shopped myself to near death on my trips to Bangkok and with ongoing house maintenence, two holidays coming up, road tax, car insurance, and other year-end expenditure, shopping is simply too expensive and frivolous a therapy to be engaged in. Yet I just can't help myself. I am stupidly convinced that eye lash extensions, ball gowns, baggy black tops, yet another black dress, shoes, shoes, shoes, and enough lipgloss to make a whole cookbook shine gloriously will make me beautiful and attractive to all.
Oh state the obvious why not. That beauty comes fron within...blah, blah, blah. Try telling a fat girl that! Beauty comes from within alright - ie. there's a thin girl inside me just dying to get out!
The point I'm trying to make is that vanity has everything to do with what's ticking upstairs. To others you may look alright but to the mind's eye, alright means hideous. Stomach rings, thighs, butt cheeks, face cheeks, arms, calves are magnified ten-fold. Oh, someone call the plastic surgeon please!
The battle against delusion is a much harden one to win than than the battle against the bulge. The physical can be modified with diets and exercise but upstairs, the wiring is complicated. Years of conditioning, brain washing and image haunting from let's-not-name-the-sources can take decades to undo and is an ongoing, tiresome, boring boring issue to have to overcome.
Mind you, some days are good, when the hormones are stable, the jeans button up and the boy you fancy makes eye contact. But most days, the oestrogen ODs and your face shines worse than the Exxon Valdez slick, the fat has nowhere to go and spills into your jeans pockets and the boy you fancy gets chatted up by the hot chick with the long legs and shiny hair.
I know, they say if you feel good, you look good. But seriously girls...how true is that?
While you try to come up with a convincing answer, excuse me, I have some shopping to do.
In this fat month, I daresay I have spent a shameful RM2k on attempting to beautify myself and make myself...well, less fat. I admit, it's a disgusting amount to spend when on a tight budget. I already shopped myself to near death on my trips to Bangkok and with ongoing house maintenence, two holidays coming up, road tax, car insurance, and other year-end expenditure, shopping is simply too expensive and frivolous a therapy to be engaged in. Yet I just can't help myself. I am stupidly convinced that eye lash extensions, ball gowns, baggy black tops, yet another black dress, shoes, shoes, shoes, and enough lipgloss to make a whole cookbook shine gloriously will make me beautiful and attractive to all.
Oh state the obvious why not. That beauty comes fron within...blah, blah, blah. Try telling a fat girl that! Beauty comes from within alright - ie. there's a thin girl inside me just dying to get out!
The point I'm trying to make is that vanity has everything to do with what's ticking upstairs. To others you may look alright but to the mind's eye, alright means hideous. Stomach rings, thighs, butt cheeks, face cheeks, arms, calves are magnified ten-fold. Oh, someone call the plastic surgeon please!
The battle against delusion is a much harden one to win than than the battle against the bulge. The physical can be modified with diets and exercise but upstairs, the wiring is complicated. Years of conditioning, brain washing and image haunting from let's-not-name-the-sources can take decades to undo and is an ongoing, tiresome, boring boring issue to have to overcome.
Mind you, some days are good, when the hormones are stable, the jeans button up and the boy you fancy makes eye contact. But most days, the oestrogen ODs and your face shines worse than the Exxon Valdez slick, the fat has nowhere to go and spills into your jeans pockets and the boy you fancy gets chatted up by the hot chick with the long legs and shiny hair.
I know, they say if you feel good, you look good. But seriously girls...how true is that?
While you try to come up with a convincing answer, excuse me, I have some shopping to do.
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Remembering Your Dreams
Before the flakes of daily life landed on your shoulders and snowed you down. Before your last thoughts as you dozed off at night were about the scheduler on your Outlook. Before weekdays became chock-a-block and weekends were spent recuperating, what did you think of? What carried you off to cloudless sleep, what sprung you out of bed in the morning, what kept you going - forward on the treadmill, up the ladder, or down that garden path called life?
I spent so much of my teenage years in a permanent dream state. Sitting by my bedroom window gazing out at the twinkling lights of a city asleep, as Casey Kasem droned on for 40 songs. I dreamt of being Madonna, of being swept up on stage at a Duranduran concert like Courtney Cox was by Bruce Springsteen, of being a millionaire by 30, of the name to paint on my fleet of private jets, of my Oscar acceptance speech, of being on the cover of Cosmo, of being thin in pink legwarmers.....the dreams were many, and manyfold, with every detail imagined, enacted and relived day in, day out.
My twenties were spent inside a bottle of Absolut where I only came up for air every few months. Time imploded a little because I believed I was invincible and that everything would remain as it was forever. And the dreams, they slowly whittled away because who needs dreams when there are so many drinking games to play?
Sobering up now and smarting from mistakes of the past, I wonder why I walk listlessly, am constantly overwhelmed yet haunted by sleepness nights and a blank mind. I realised that, like many, I had forgotten my dreams, the intangible food that nourishes my soul.
We have become so robotic in acting out of instinct that we have lost the skill to analyse why is it we feel what we do (or don't). Why we crave. Why we urge. Why anything?
In order to live rather than exist, I've tried to recall my dreams. Do or die, there are things I need to get done or I will forever haunt this earth in a state of unrest. Oh, they range from the monumental (winning an Oscar for adapting something amazing for film or climbing Mount Everest [serious!]), to achievable if I got my arse together (publishing damn good written work), to the frivolous (finding the poppy field in Ismail Merchant's A Room With A View and once there, be passionately kissed as in the film). Possible or not, is not the issue.
Cleo-Jean reminded me of one thing. That it is now or never. While dreams may float about until you breathe life into them, our bodies sadly don't have that kind of shelf life. They wither away. What could be worse than having the will but not the capability? Why waste all the capability we have now on lack of will? Wake up! Get moving! It's now or never! You can't rely on your next life, what if you came back as a Freesian cow?
I spent so much of my teenage years in a permanent dream state. Sitting by my bedroom window gazing out at the twinkling lights of a city asleep, as Casey Kasem droned on for 40 songs. I dreamt of being Madonna, of being swept up on stage at a Duranduran concert like Courtney Cox was by Bruce Springsteen, of being a millionaire by 30, of the name to paint on my fleet of private jets, of my Oscar acceptance speech, of being on the cover of Cosmo, of being thin in pink legwarmers.....the dreams were many, and manyfold, with every detail imagined, enacted and relived day in, day out.
My twenties were spent inside a bottle of Absolut where I only came up for air every few months. Time imploded a little because I believed I was invincible and that everything would remain as it was forever. And the dreams, they slowly whittled away because who needs dreams when there are so many drinking games to play?
Sobering up now and smarting from mistakes of the past, I wonder why I walk listlessly, am constantly overwhelmed yet haunted by sleepness nights and a blank mind. I realised that, like many, I had forgotten my dreams, the intangible food that nourishes my soul.
We have become so robotic in acting out of instinct that we have lost the skill to analyse why is it we feel what we do (or don't). Why we crave. Why we urge. Why anything?
In order to live rather than exist, I've tried to recall my dreams. Do or die, there are things I need to get done or I will forever haunt this earth in a state of unrest. Oh, they range from the monumental (winning an Oscar for adapting something amazing for film or climbing Mount Everest [serious!]), to achievable if I got my arse together (publishing damn good written work), to the frivolous (finding the poppy field in Ismail Merchant's A Room With A View and once there, be passionately kissed as in the film). Possible or not, is not the issue.
Cleo-Jean reminded me of one thing. That it is now or never. While dreams may float about until you breathe life into them, our bodies sadly don't have that kind of shelf life. They wither away. What could be worse than having the will but not the capability? Why waste all the capability we have now on lack of will? Wake up! Get moving! It's now or never! You can't rely on your next life, what if you came back as a Freesian cow?
Monday, October 09, 2006
Breath Of Fresh Air
Hack, hack, hack...the haze is killing us all! What does sky look like again?
I pulled away the curtain of smog two weekends ago and played under the loving gaze of blue skies and sunshine. In yet another pursuit of nature and spirit, I gathered a bunch of friends up to Gopeng, Perak where we abseiled down a waterfall and flew over the rapids and white water of Sungai Kampar. Neither activity was particularly difficult, and perhaps a little disappointing in the fear factor department, but I still had buckets of fun in Mother Nature's playground. There's nothing like mandi sungai, swinging of tree branches, being carted around like cattle in a lorry and eating damn good sambal al fresco.
Thumbs up to Nomad Adventure who do a great job of hosting adventure trips where you can customise activities of choice - combining the fun of white water rafting or kayaking, caving, high traversing over chasms, firefox, waterfall abseiling, jungle trekking and so on.
Whilst out in the middle of nowhere, we chanced upon a quaint little resthouse with rolling grounds and cute 'lil huts, called Rumah Rehat Adeline. If you close the eye that rests on the humungous waterpipe that runs alongside it, it is actually located smack in the middle of the most beautiful surroundings. There is the smell of nature, the lull of chirping crickets and babbling brook, and the invaluable feeling that lots and lots of wild, wild life out there, outnumbers us humans.
The experience is what I would akin to posing for a nude photograph (not that I have, I can only imagine). A heady sense of fear but complete freedom as you are stripped of fluff and reminded again, in your birthday suit, of whom you are and where you stand in the grander scheme of things. A mere human being in the face of far greater picture of life and art in motion. I reckon the jungle is a fantastic place to get off your face, run around naked and syiok your nerves nicely.
I wonder if it is age that's getting to me, or the city. But the need to get out of KL is getting stronger. Out of its shopping centres and night clubs and away from the 'fringe' people (people that don't actually feature in your life - but who are just there to periodically irritate you by asking probing questions like 'still no boyfriend yet?' or 'when's your next baby coming?' or the best one yet - 'do you know you have put on weight?').
My inbox these days are a reflection of my inner urge - newsletters from nature from organisations like Wild Asia and The Malaysian Nature Society.
I asked myself when I was in Gopeng, ducking my head in the face of oncoming tree branches as we hurled our way through the wilderness. Could I live out here? Forever? Could I practice what I preach? Live in a hut and feed chickens? Thing is I really don't know. But what I do know is that lately, I see through my life as it has been. I see its utter frivolity, its unnecessary frills, its man-made adventures. It doesn't mean I wish to pack up and head for the jungle but it sure has me rethinking about what really matters.
I know I rant on about this but I can't say it enough. That life is so much more than material wealth, climbing the corporate ladder, than being smarter than the next person or leading a more 'successful' life. I want my son to grow up feeling wet grass on his feet, knowing the scent of rain, experiencing the icy cold of river water, being awed by the complex hues of the sky and feeling in his bones the true greatness of the earth. Not from the flip of an Astro decoder, the pages of a travel magazine or even worse, from a lame re-enaction in a video game - but by him, first-hand, standing on top of a mountain, or looking down from a rock face or from inside the vastness of an cave in the hollow of the earth.
This is what I believe life should be.
Note: Save the rainforest! The 300,000 hectare Belum-Temengor virgin rainforest is partially located in Perak and stretches North, is 130 million years old (older than the Amazon - wow!). It's right here at our doorstep! As with every other natural or historical thing in this developing country, it's under threat, in this case by logging and deforestation. Just thought you might want to know...
I pulled away the curtain of smog two weekends ago and played under the loving gaze of blue skies and sunshine. In yet another pursuit of nature and spirit, I gathered a bunch of friends up to Gopeng, Perak where we abseiled down a waterfall and flew over the rapids and white water of Sungai Kampar. Neither activity was particularly difficult, and perhaps a little disappointing in the fear factor department, but I still had buckets of fun in Mother Nature's playground. There's nothing like mandi sungai, swinging of tree branches, being carted around like cattle in a lorry and eating damn good sambal al fresco.
Thumbs up to Nomad Adventure who do a great job of hosting adventure trips where you can customise activities of choice - combining the fun of white water rafting or kayaking, caving, high traversing over chasms, firefox, waterfall abseiling, jungle trekking and so on.
Whilst out in the middle of nowhere, we chanced upon a quaint little resthouse with rolling grounds and cute 'lil huts, called Rumah Rehat Adeline. If you close the eye that rests on the humungous waterpipe that runs alongside it, it is actually located smack in the middle of the most beautiful surroundings. There is the smell of nature, the lull of chirping crickets and babbling brook, and the invaluable feeling that lots and lots of wild, wild life out there, outnumbers us humans.
The experience is what I would akin to posing for a nude photograph (not that I have, I can only imagine). A heady sense of fear but complete freedom as you are stripped of fluff and reminded again, in your birthday suit, of whom you are and where you stand in the grander scheme of things. A mere human being in the face of far greater picture of life and art in motion. I reckon the jungle is a fantastic place to get off your face, run around naked and syiok your nerves nicely.
I wonder if it is age that's getting to me, or the city. But the need to get out of KL is getting stronger. Out of its shopping centres and night clubs and away from the 'fringe' people (people that don't actually feature in your life - but who are just there to periodically irritate you by asking probing questions like 'still no boyfriend yet?' or 'when's your next baby coming?' or the best one yet - 'do you know you have put on weight?').
My inbox these days are a reflection of my inner urge - newsletters from nature from organisations like Wild Asia and The Malaysian Nature Society.
I asked myself when I was in Gopeng, ducking my head in the face of oncoming tree branches as we hurled our way through the wilderness. Could I live out here? Forever? Could I practice what I preach? Live in a hut and feed chickens? Thing is I really don't know. But what I do know is that lately, I see through my life as it has been. I see its utter frivolity, its unnecessary frills, its man-made adventures. It doesn't mean I wish to pack up and head for the jungle but it sure has me rethinking about what really matters.
I know I rant on about this but I can't say it enough. That life is so much more than material wealth, climbing the corporate ladder, than being smarter than the next person or leading a more 'successful' life. I want my son to grow up feeling wet grass on his feet, knowing the scent of rain, experiencing the icy cold of river water, being awed by the complex hues of the sky and feeling in his bones the true greatness of the earth. Not from the flip of an Astro decoder, the pages of a travel magazine or even worse, from a lame re-enaction in a video game - but by him, first-hand, standing on top of a mountain, or looking down from a rock face or from inside the vastness of an cave in the hollow of the earth.
This is what I believe life should be.
Note: Save the rainforest! The 300,000 hectare Belum-Temengor virgin rainforest is partially located in Perak and stretches North, is 130 million years old (older than the Amazon - wow!). It's right here at our doorstep! As with every other natural or historical thing in this developing country, it's under threat, in this case by logging and deforestation. Just thought you might want to know...
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Life Or Something Like It
Yesterday, I attended a wedding of an old friend. When he walked down the aisle, so handsome in his tux with lovely wife on arm, my heart lurched with pride. So this is what it feels like to see someone close get married. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ve been to a million weddings- after all, it’s a KL past time – only that this isn’t a shot gun one (!), and it was the wedding of a friend who was close during a very happy part of my life. The event filled me with wonderful memories and glad tidings for the future.
The wedding was a reunion of old friends too. People I partied with, cried with, laughed with, could have slept with, worked with, fought with, holidayed with, dined with, drank with, ended up in the police station with.
When you attend a funeral and a wedding back to back, it does things to you. I guess I am reminded of what life is. No matter where you are – in India or in Ireland, in hiding or not, you cannot escape the cycle of people being born, people uniting, and then eventual death. From the coolest person you know, to the saddest, the prettiest to the not so, everyone follows the same old cycle. Life is just that – a book with many chapters. The same for everyone.
With childhood friends, we all grow up together, lead our separate yet inextricably parallel lives – whether some marry or not, divorce or not, have kids or not, live abroad or not, make money or not – we all age, we all get our fair share of wrinkles and handles and we all meet perfunctorily at each other's life's milestones – at weddings, funerals, full moons, etc.
It’s strangely comforting to see other people go through what you are going through – albeit with a small degree of variation. There is comfort in numbers. We are all finding ourselves, dealing with ourselves, adapting as we journey together on this giant bandwagon community along the road called life.
The wedding was a reunion of old friends too. People I partied with, cried with, laughed with, could have slept with, worked with, fought with, holidayed with, dined with, drank with, ended up in the police station with.
When you attend a funeral and a wedding back to back, it does things to you. I guess I am reminded of what life is. No matter where you are – in India or in Ireland, in hiding or not, you cannot escape the cycle of people being born, people uniting, and then eventual death. From the coolest person you know, to the saddest, the prettiest to the not so, everyone follows the same old cycle. Life is just that – a book with many chapters. The same for everyone.
With childhood friends, we all grow up together, lead our separate yet inextricably parallel lives – whether some marry or not, divorce or not, have kids or not, live abroad or not, make money or not – we all age, we all get our fair share of wrinkles and handles and we all meet perfunctorily at each other's life's milestones – at weddings, funerals, full moons, etc.
It’s strangely comforting to see other people go through what you are going through – albeit with a small degree of variation. There is comfort in numbers. We are all finding ourselves, dealing with ourselves, adapting as we journey together on this giant bandwagon community along the road called life.
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