Titanic: Amplified, Magnified & Rightly So

I've forgotten how strongly associated my childhood was with the television and big screen. I was eleven when I first watched Titanic and I didn't understand why my mom had 'a lump in her throat' when she watched Jack die. Today, I cried my eyes out watching this movie, after fifteen years when it was first released. The 3D added to it's magic and my sentiments were shared by many people who were reminded of the beauty that is Titanic, as a movie and as a lesson in life.

From Titanic, I learned that a woman should find a man who not only teaches her to fly, but supports her and gives her time to cherish the flight.

From the crowd of human beings, I am reminded that first-class or third-class, it doesn't matter - in the end we all fight for survival and become one on equal grounds.

From the woman in the lead role, I admire Rose's strength in the face adversity, for challenging her belief system onboard the magnificent ship, and for standing up for what she believed in. The image of her blowing the whistle with unwavering determination stays with me until now.

From the man in the lead role, I embrace the carefree-ness that is embodied in Jack Dawson, that which spurred the fire that he loved in Rose. Yet I also realize that the fire was in Rose all along, she ignited it herself when she decided to fight to live and grew to live the life of her dreams. The picture of her straddling a horse with a big smile stretched on her face is evident of that, as a promise to her lover as she became her new brave self.

From Rose, I learned the way to reject what her mother told her - if she had listened, she would have ended up with the short-tempered and disdainful Cal (and I can think of a lot more things to call him).

Every time I watch it, a new experience is formed, and my experience yesterday was heightened by 3D. If you're a fan, go watch it. If you're not, well then you suck.

My 13-year-old cousin gushed about how she would be able to see Leo's features up and close in 3D. It was nice to see a relic of my time being appreciated now in the 21st century because Leo does not look the same as he did.

Afternoon AGM

It was democratic for sure, which is why it lasted for about three hours. An Annual General Meeting with women - you bet it's not going to be over anytime soon. Every voice was given a chance to speak - those who had views threw it out to the rest of the table - without fear that there would be repercussions to speaking their minds. Something we surely lack in this country - encouraging people to speak. God forbid we give them a chance to be educated. Education really is key.

As the meeting began, I was excited; pumped at the possibilities that could arise, at the things I would hear, at the notes that I would take (surreptitiously at the back of course). We started out with minutes from the last meeting, then proceeded to finances. Yea, not my favourite thing in the world. My mind started to wander. I had to force myself to concentrate. Transportation fees? Honorarium hire? Fund-raising? (Hey, we can throw parties in the name of feminism right?).

That's when I realized though - it is the nitty-gritty details, the rentals and the materials to make posters, to print manuals and books...that make up the big picture. The mindless administrative work, the filing of documents, the recording. When the cause is right though, these things become secondary. I started to pay attention and learnt a few things - finance...easy-peasy right? And if all else fails, I can learn from the Google Gods.

Whatever it takes - learning to raise money, learning to balance a checkbook (or at least knowing who to hire), I think you can do anything when you heart is burning with all-consuming passion.

Yes I really am that naive, I reckon if you took a peek in my head, you'd hear a conversation that goes like this:

Mil (the Realist): So Mil, when you build a community centre, like you always wanted, where kids can play, learn to dance, play chess and all those fun kid-stuff things, how are you going to raise money for it?

Mil (me): Umm...I guess I'll ask the pretty rainbow fairies to slid down their colourful highways and loan me some money for my pretty community centre. And then I'll get my goblin homies to paint it up all purple.

It's About Damn Time

I loved picking up the remnants of petals, that were scattered lovingly inside my car; groping around my car to get them all made me be afraid of running out of petals to pick up but there would always be one more that I didn't see earlier. It was everywhere; on the dirty floor mats (somehow remaining untouched and without dirt), on the backseat, between the seats.

I am also the lucky recipient of Simone de Beauvoir's the Second Sex - fully and totally unabridged! Just reading the Introduction was enough to blow my mind. I have a Bible now!

I am jobless, as of yesterday at 7p.m (funny thing is I still owe them one article - oh well, some things don't change). There are moments in a day where I'll get little bouts of panic or I'll be gripped by that foreign thing called fear. But I think I'll be just fine.

If nothing else, I'm happy to have a few days/weeks to clean because I think it's about damn time.

Defeat Before Confrontation

It really bugs me when I experience negativity. At the risk of sounding like a New Age freak, it throws my whole being off balance and I find I need to readjust myself in case I fall off my precarious pole of naive beliefs. Am I naive for advocating positivity? Maybe. Do you laugh at people like that? Possibly.

But it irks me when people give up before even trying. It really just defeats the whole point of life. Also, what does it mean when you say you've failed? Doesn't it just mean that you gave up a few tries ago?

Just because you are uncomfortable experiencing rejection, disappointment, let-downs and No's doesn't mean that you can avoid it for the rest of your life. It is part of life. The point is that you tried. I think I've become fairly thick-skinned after working in the servicing industry and having to deal with angry white folks who didn't get their take-away on time. An extremely stressful period over the weekend when I had first started out my second waitressing job at Perth. It was maybe only the second weekend rush that I had experienced, having been thrown at the cashier station after little practice. I have a slow learning curve (no shock there, I am generally a slow person, yes I am the last person eating at almost every family meal) thus I usually am upfront about how long it might take me to learn something. But once I do, there is almost no problem.

So, there I was standing there like a fool, my mouth gaping at the stream of customers that invaded our small restaurant after 7p.m. And I panicked badly. My hands were shaking, my heart was beating fast and my throat slightly raw from screaming into the kitchen to call my co-worker. It wasn't the best of times. But if I hadn't been put on the war-zone, I never would have learnt how to be fast and how to respond to customers. Barely a year passed before I decided to set my sights on something bigger - and managed to, thanks to the informal but handy training I got from this small restaurant.

Persevere in rough times, and you'll reap rewards later. Oh and screw the naysayers.

Limbo

Sixth day. I don't wake up craving it anymore. My mind is still a little confused, having been imprinted with the effects of nicotine. I don't think minds forget so easily, but I do know that I can adapt - most human beings can actually. It's a hungover from evolutionary times; to be able to adapt to almost any environment, to any routine, with any people. Why be afraid of change right?

I know I'm still being watched like a hawk though. Perhaps, I am expected to relapse because statistics say that smokers usually need between 2-4 attempts to finally quit for good. Relapses can happen anytime, especially with the trigger of bad news. Another fact I learnt is that smokers who were dependent on the cigarette during times of stress, frustration or anger, will find it harder to stop as there is no alternate way to manage stress for the moment. I was one of these smokers. I would crave a cigarette whenever Mom's nagging got the better of me, or when I needed a break from writing at work. The workplace is usually a source of stress, especially with deadlines and catty colleagues. But it doesn't have to be this way. As cheesy as this sounds, I just need a way to manage stress; one that doesn't include popping a plum tablet in my mouth even.

How do you manage stress, aside from the obvious breathing techniques? I remember as a teenager, back then before I tried cigarettes, my grandmother said something awful to me. She meant well, I think but I got upset (stupid swinging teenage hormones, I swear!) and ran from the dinner table in typical dramatic flair. I went to my room and sat in the corner. Finally, I reached over to push play on my CD player and Switchfoot's Dare you to Move came on. It was a song about moving along even after getting beaten down. Grandma might not have beaten me, but the music soothed me, like ice-cold lemonade to a parched throat.

I'm remembering what I was like when I was young - before cigarettes (maybe cigarettes helped the growing up process - I thought I was so cool, smoking along with my peers in college). I used to enjoy food, used to run around and be active a lot more, used music as an escape and I didn't need to get intoxicated to have a good time.

I always said I never wanted to grow up. It's time I regressed and found out why I eventually ended up selling out.

Resisting the Urge

So it's the third day of my new life as a non-smoker and I have to say despite the crazy urges and almost giving up, I've made it this far. Never in the past six years have I gone this long without a cigarette and perhaps there was a time when I thought I could never do it.

I am drinking coffee right now and this is possibly the hardest challenge thus far. Coffee is like my morning booze and you know what goes very well with booze, yes those pretty little cancer sticks. Here are some things that have really helped me in the past three days:

1. Meditating/ taking deep breaths.
2. Distracting myself with almost anything, be it a phone call, talking to a friend, singing out loud (especially in the car which used to be my favourite place to smoke) and cursing cigs.
2. Eating 'asam' tablets, or better known as plum. This has helped immensely with the cravings; something about those tiny Pikin sourish circles that give me some sort of oral satisfaction.
3. Physical exercise, like badminton and swimming.
4. Listening to heavy metal and air drumming along (and cursing cigs as well).
5. Listening to calming music (when the cursing is over).
6. Thinking about how proud everyone will be of me.
7. Thinking of all the people who were skeptical (here's a middle finger to you, no seriously, stop dripping your negativity all over my clean sheets of positive energy, ASSHOLE).
8. Drinking or munching on something. I find even drinking something like soy bean helps me forget I want to smoke.
9. Creating new things to do to fill the time I used to spend smoking.
10. Pretending I have a stick between my fingers, putting the imaginary thing in my mouth and taking a long and satisfying puff (as stupid as I look, this really works).

I'll write more about my experience in the coming days. I feel like cigarettes have been my long-time lover and I am trying to get over this pack of stamina-robbing twigs. I think about them almost the whole day and I am longing for a day when I can finally say "I'm over you." And so help me God, I will.

My New Life As a Non-Smoker

So I finally took the plunge and decided to quit cigarettes. My reasons for this involved many things, of which include mortality, my Dad's mortality, the people I love, my poor lungs and hey, why not nurture my singing voice?

Today was the first day and it was a good challenge. More often than not, I felt like a fighter, putting my nose down at cigarettes and proud to be able to say NO! Other times got me thinking wistfully of these sticks, distant from a lost friend. I wrote a goodbye letter last night, and in it I put out the fact that cigarettes were like a friend to me, especially in my darkest hours. There was some sort of emotional attachment to a overrated box of cancer twigs. But I persevered, much to the surprise of many friends perhaps. My persona for the past six years had somehow gelded with cigarettes; many people associate me with Salems; one almost always in my hand, especially after meals or between work. Cigarettes were part of my routine, how I decided where to eat and and a constant companion especially on long car drives. In fact, my car had never known me as a non-smoker, having witnessed the many puffs I would take as I coast down a Malaysian highway, or crawl through a Malaysian jam. For 6 years, I held hands with cigarettes and now it is all over.

The bigger part of me is extremely happy, and has already planned many things to replace the habit (think lollipops). A small teeny tiny part of me is sad, because it feels like an era gone by. But even an era will eventually fade. And I have to remember that the good has to outweigh the bad and perhaps my trusted ciggies are more bad than good. Most definitely, I should say.

It's 2012 and the time has come to make some overhauls. The only thing I'm bringing with me from 2011 is the phrase "Why not?" Let's rock this joint.

Brand-worship Starts Early

As a human being, I am insulted at the level of entertainment in the mainstream media. I feel like the creators behind this trash assume that the human race is stupid. If you look around properly, you may be able to understand why they think that way. But I believe we've all been duped, brainwashed, spoken down to and made to believe that this is the only way the world works. In January next year, a Mexican company will be bringing Kidzania to Malaysia. The premise of this 'edutainment' place is quite intriguing. Create a space for children where they pretend to be grown-ups, trying out different jobs, earning a salary and buying daily needs. "Wow, what a concept!" I thought. And kids LOVE to pretend that they're grown up. I remember clearly a time when I stupidly wanted to hurry up and be an adult so I could go to cool parties, stay out late at night and consume alcohol. Kids want to grow up fast because they think being an adult is a ball. They never find out about the ugly catch of course. So, Kidzania sounds good right; definitely a viable business. You bet your ass it is. Because they're replicating the real world, banks where the kids open their accounts are operated by CIMB. Brands went a bit nuts crawling all over Kidzania and putting out their brands. Elsewhere, Proctor and Gamble was involved to teach kids how to wash their hands. And of course, the spokesperson for P&G said that the aim was to hope that the kids would grow up remembering and eventually purchasing their brand when they grew up. This is really quite a genius move. Get the kid to remember happy childhood memories, which are now associated with P&G; and of course they're going to buy your soap, they're now officially emotionally attached to your product. Well done. Kinda creeps me out honestly. That's like brainwashing right from the start; teaching kids to be devoted to the brand from an early age. I don't know about this whole brand thing to be honest. I'm a little uneasy at the blatant advertising, but then again I'm not a friend of the current system of capitalism (it's totally screwed up, no one can deny that). The idea of advertising to kids then, you can imagine, leaves me frowning at the screen and squirming in my seat. This was brought up in a well-written piece in Newsweek but no further questioning was done. Because that's just the way things are. Banks exist, the job market exists and a fight to get a degree exists too. As usual, the system is left unquestioned. Well, now I ask you though. If you could re-create the world, how would you do it? As for me, I certainly wouldn't allow CIMB bank into my kid's world. Also, don't get me wrong, I'm not living in a bubble. Yes, this is the way the world works, and no doubt, Kidzania teaches responsibility and certainly educates a child, while allowing some creativity loose because they're allowed to be anything they want (well, as far as the job scope in Kidzania goes). There is also a Kidzania government who meet once in awhile, so hopefully that increases social justice awareness (I'd be curious to go in and take a look - and I'll try not to look like a creepy kid-stalker). But what about re-imagining the world? What if we had billboards with informative things on them, instead of a blown up image of Brad Pitt posing for some luxury brand? What if we could write out messages, what if graffiti was more appreciated? What if we could plant trees where the land is barren? What if we could refrain from using paper? What if we could really follow our passions? What if we imagined what we WOULD do if profit wasn't involved? Why stick to our boring real-world situation of collapsing financial structure and a stifling job pyramid? But I suppose that's the whole point of Kidzania - replicating the world as we know it. But goddamn it sucks, the way we know it.

Propaganda

People will say almost anything to get you to do what they want, and I think this can be applied to the arena of jobs. An employer who is keen on hiring you, might be able to gauge what you want to hear and then feed you the appropriate lines. I think I can be easily convinced and this is not a good trait to possess. Now that I know though, I would like to take steps to think for myself and weigh options carefully before making a decision. Are you easily influenced? There's nothing wrong with admitting it and I think to a certain degree, most human beings are, even if they deny it. Think about the influence advertisements, music videos and sitcoms can have on our minds and the way we think. Don't be fooled into thinking that this hasn't affected you. In some unconscious way, I'm sure it has. It takes effort to think for ourselves which is why many people don't practice this. It takes effort to look within, instead of riding on the waves of external stimuli that bombard us everyday. It takes effort to sit in solitude and experience silence for awhile, away from the bustle of ordinary life. It takes effort to not let what people say affect your single-minded goals but I reckon it will be worthwhile not to give up. Screw the discrimination, deceit and propaganda. Turn your mind inwards and keep your eyes firmly fixed on your goals and uphold YOUR beliefs and values, not your boss or your mother's.

Juncture

It's been a year and nine days since I've been back in Kuala Lumpur, a year that just whizzed by, uncontrollably before my eyes. This has been a challenging year, to say the least. I'm not sure though, if I would have done it differently. Things happen for a reason right? At the moment, the dilemma people my age seem to be facing is that big ugly word: 'job'. Well, actually it's quite a small word, but one that holds many connotations. It's so easy to become jaded, numb and depressed while on the job. And I think it's a sign if you wake up depressed on a Sunday, and dreading the next day before it even comes. Back to work, oh crap, I really don't want to, why is it Sunday, why can't it be Saturday again. These thoughts seem to come around every single Sunday. I suppose the best thing to do would be to suck it up or quit. And then we find reasons why we can't quit, at least not for now. I wish sometimes for some sort of divine intervention, but that's really not how life works. And I always thought of myself as a person who makes things happen. I don't want to be waiting around still, one year from now even. But I still don't know what it is that I have to make happen, I want many things and don't want many things. I read somewhere that the best way to be motivated is to actually think of the things you DON'T want to happen. Well, I don't want to work for someone else. I don't want to be dependent on anybody else. I don't want to be writing advertorial. I don't want my parents to be disappointed. Most of all, I don't want to dread my job. When I think of opening up my own business, the only thing that sticks in my head is that I am against selling useless stuff to people. The only thing that seems useful to me are books, hence, the most viable business for me would be to sell knowledge to people. Malaysia however, is not very big on reading. Judging by the response to the big book sale recently however, maybe there are enough who would visit my store. If I could convince my dad to hand over the money he's probably saving for my wedding, I'm all set. Yea, that's NOT going to be easy, considering the fact that he's planning to get me married off ASAP. You might wonder why I'm not freaking out. Been there, done that. I can't tell you the amount of times my dad has scared the shit out of me this year alone, suddenly bringing up marriage at a quiet lunch and making me run for the hills. Not gonna happen Dad, I'm sorry.

Nietzsche on a Monday

I seem to be writing all my posts from the office, which is where I spend the majority of my time. The itch to get a portable writing instrument is growing stronger by the day, and I reckon it would be a very good investment. Perhaps a shiny iPad or even something less highbrow. Many of my hours have been spent on the road, getting stuck in typical Kuala Lumpur traffic jam which shows no sign of reversing or slowing down. In fact, the general consensus seems to be that it is getting worse by the day. A public holiday in KL is like extra presents on Christmas Day, with the exhilarating feeling of coasting down a usually-packed highway. Freedom, perhaps or just the illusion of it. I'm easily fooled. I had a very unproductive weekend and because of this, I am determined not to have another. The weekend that passed should be used to serve my ever-weakening purpose of Getting Somewhere Good. I'm not sure where I'm going to, to be honest but enough of that already. I had an opportunity to get behind the scenes at a workshop for human rights recently. But because of the way life has been going lately, it was banned because the Malaysian government is made up of homophobes and anti-West pushers. Hypocrisy at its best. I was quite sad because I learned so much in the two days that I was in attendance, and met so many new people. I do enjoy pushing my boundaries, now I just need to find other outlets. There is a blanket of oppression that seems to suffocate Malaysia. Perhaps it is my paranoia talking but I can't help but feel that what goes on behind closed doors are an indicator of a society's health. And I reckon that Malaysia isn't so healthy to be honest. Malaysians don't know how to be true to themselves, myself included. I have been reading a lot on being true to yourself and I think things like these can easily be spun in the wrong direction. Being true to yourself doesn't necessarily mean following every whim and desire. You can't help how you feel but you can choose how you respond or act upon it. Being true means sticking to what you truly believe in, even while remaining open-minded to new suggestions. It is the balance of following your heart and listening to the nagging voice in your head. If something feels wrong, then it probably is. No one can say it isn't wrong, because everyone's perception of right and wrong will differ. Like Nietzsche said: "You do it your way, I shall do it my way. As for the right way and the wrong way, there is no such thing." More on this soon. Gotta get back to my wine-tasting notes. Whoopeeeeeeee!

Goddamn

It is 6.54p.m and I'm the last one in the office. It is one of those days where I realize that I don't feel productive and am not living my full potential. And then I wonder what my potentials are and where or what I'm supposed to be. I think back to the last time I was productive; which I pin down to the day I wrote an article about an art gallery that I really enjoyed visiting. That was quite awhile ago, last month or maybe before that to be perfectly honest. And I shut my eyes and think really hard about the last time I exalted in the feeling of being useful and it always comes back to life in Perth. I remember the sweet feeling or researching and writing and scribbling ideas and debating and reading and cursing and having someone tell me that I got it. Of being around people who could carry many conversations about politics, the world, journalism, the war on terror etc. It is a lonely life, the life of a writer. There are many times when I have felt like an antisocial outcast because society expects one to socialize. I am a dreamer, very much an idealistic one that at this moment, is struggling to be realistic, at the same time not wanting to lose the wanderer in me. I am feeling lost, and I definitely don't have a sense of direction. I also ponder about ending up alone since I seem to prefer solitude, but that is a problem that is far away. At the moment, I just long for that feeling again. I sometimes wonder if it was a fluke but I couldn't have been fluking for a whole year now, could I? I'm trying to remember what drove me and for the life of me, I can't right now. Was it a last-ditch desperate attempt to get good grades in my final year? Was it the realization that I could do better? Was it the lingering fear that my grandmother was watching me? (haha - maybe not). Or could it have been that I really enjoyed what I was doing? That was definitely a HUGE part of it. The problem with me is that I'm unsure how to motivate myself when I have no interest whatsoever in what I'm working on. I'm quite a child in that way. I'm essentially, at the moment, stuck in a comfort zone so deep, so wide that I don't know the first thing about climbing my way out. I'm guessing my choice is not going to be easy. But I am still at the crossroad I was, 10 months ago. Goddamn everything.

My September weekend

I had a good weekend, better than the weekends that came before because after a long time, I am finding my sense of purpose. It was a little emotional as I am still trying to straighten out my curly internal conflicts and not get into any more conflicts while I'm doing this. Ever since I've come back from Perth, I feel like I've entered some sort of whirlwind, where I'm just moving in circles, and not in one direction but many, getting pulled and pushed along until I get lost, the strong wind carrying me and placing me somewhere unknown. It is funny how we wouldn't go somewhere foreign without a map but we fail to 'map' out or lives and specify goals and dreams unfulfilled. Friday evening finally came, a long-awaited night although the week had passed very quickly. I had been out everyday, there were many things going on in good ol' KL, like the KL Design Week which coincided with the London version (but it would be unfair to compare the two, surely). I felt like my mind was opening slowly but surely with all the new things I saw. I was fortunate enough to catch an audio-visual feat, created by the Light Surgeons on Wednesday and a series of images from local designers and artists at the KL Pecha Kucha Night that took place earlier on Monday. It was a powerful thing to imagine that this event started off in Japan and spread like wildfire to so many other countries in a few years. I would think there's no harm in looking elsewhere for inspiration, especially when it comes to life. On Thursday, I finished researching for a shopping survey I had to do for the new publication coming up in my company. I have to catch up on my writing since I've been out everyday of the office, but I reckon it was all worth it, especially when Friday did finally appear. I had tickets to watch Ahmed Ahmed, the dishy American-Egyptian comedian who liked to put on his Middle Eastern accent. It took some time to finally get to the ballroom where he was scheduled to perform, thanks to the wonderful mechanisms of Kuala Lumpur jam and my impeccable perception of time. I was the default driver (am looking into retiring soon or at least charging for petrol) and picked up the boys. We reached nearly half an hour after the scheduled time but thanks to GMT (General Malaysian Timing), the show had not started yet. It was a strange crowd, a mix of the eager media people, triumphantly smirking at getting free tickets and the glitzy VIPS who had perfect hair and six inch heels. I gaped rudely with my mouth hanging slightly open at the sight of the rich and famous. What is it about them that instantly reduces you to feel so self-conscious about your own slightly-lesser 3-inch heels and not so slight disheveled hair? Is it the bored, glazed and jaded look on their face, or is it the fact that they're so good-looking, you immediately feel an instant wave of ugliness? It is this prickle of inequality and that split second where you wish you too could experience the plush interior of a shiny silver Peugeot and walk down the hallways of Hilton in your silk bathrobe. Studies have shown that the less equal a society, the more crime, social ills and problems that occur in said society. If the average middle class could feel that painful prick of inequality, imagine what the invisible below the poverty line must feel. But all was forgotten when the lights went out and the comedians took the stage. This comic talent is one to be taken seriously, as I do feel that comic men and women are one of the sharpest observers of human beings. They would be a gold mine to sociologists, in my opinion. I laughed much stress and pain away and it felt good. I didn't even feel shitty for cancelling a planned bus tour the next morning because I think I needed the sleep I got Saturday afternoon - I lazed in my faded Backstreet Boys t-shirt (hey, they're still better than N'SYNC okay?) and didn't shower until 7p.m. It was a quiet night out with dinner at Restoran Ismail for the briyani and more lazing at Ash's house. Sunday morning, I woke up at 6.15a.m and thought I was dreaming. I have not been up this early in a long time and even though I only had 3 hours of sleep, I miraculously made it out of the house and was on the way to plant trees along the riverbanks of Shah Alam. Now, Shah Alam is not the kind of place one would recommend a person, tourist or local to go. The roads are complicated and for some reason, they seem to love roundabouts there. I have spent a good portion of my life at these roundabouts, going round and round to buy time to figure out which exit to take. The riverbank however, had its own charm and imagining all the trees blossoming and sprouting right by the surprisingly clean river made me smile. I wasn't sure what to expect with planting trees, having never picked up a shovel in my life so I was surprised that it was actually quite a simple process if you remembered what to do. We were given a demonstration and were told that it would be easier without gloves. Seeing other people getting their hands dirty made me think that it wouldn't be so bad. This was until I remembered that there are other species on the planet, like pretty centipedes and graceful worms (I'm trying to be polite but yea, I screamed like a bitch when I saw the worm wiggling out of some soil nearby). Having said that, the moment my hands touched the dirt was a memorable one. It felt like I was about to nurture something important and give life to an otherwise empty grass lot. I imagined a strong majestic tree with deep green leaves that would reach out and hug me when I came back to visit. Many of the holes were deep and filled with water which we had to drain out so that the soil wouldn't be too soft to pack in. Then it was all about clenching fistfuls of soil and leveling it into the hole. The young tree was then gently un-freed from its black wraparound and placed into the middle of the hole, with infant TLC. The hole was then covered with more soil and fertilizer, all the better to feed nutrients to this growing life form and then we moved on to the next hole, repeating the process again. I was sure that at some point there was sand falling into inappropriate places on my body and we couldn't scratch the itch with our soiled hands but it was an extremely healing experience. I had, without thinking, invited friends on Facebook to this event, not even considering that anyone would show up - but two actually did! It was a very pleasant surprise and a welcome change to my usual routine. I really needed a weekend like this and maybe with a bit more healing, the conflict will lose its flow altogether. Here's to dreams unfulfilled because no one said you couldn't create new goals and look forward to everything else.

Why Not?

I'm supposed to be writing about a spa in Seremban but I really can't be bothered reading up on candlenuts and papaya enyzmes. Sounds more like medicine than anything else really. Again and again I forget about this little place I have in the big open cyberspace and how nice it feels to write, about something other than products. Not that I'm not enjoying what I do, don't get me wrong. There are moments in the office when I feel truly useful and that yes, I have found my purpose. Of course, we all want more,because that's the only way to strive for a better tomorrow.

There's not much room for climbing the ladder here, if you want to get all corporate about things. I mean at my current job. But that is not what my heart desires anyway. Oh the heart. Such a strange beating bird. Mostly I'm staying in the office now to beat the jam (I make it sound like an Olympic sport...maybe it should be).

Life is mind-blowing sometimes, especially if you stop and think for awhile. This time last year, I was in Perth being a student and paying rent. That felt good. I can't begin to express how much I miss it all. The lectures and the lecturers, the lunch breaks, even the morning classes, over-spending money at the uni cafe once in awhile after getting sick of the average Asian stalls, going to work, complaining about work, eating dinner in my room, having Sonali bother the shit out of me, my housemates. I could go on for weeks to be honest.

And the thing is, I didn't actually mourn this loss. I sound like an absolute drama queen, but I really didn't. It was all quite rushed really, one minute I was planning out my life in Perth, I had even found a place to stay and the next I had decided to stay back in KL. I might have cried but I certainly didn't mull over my decision. Instead I decided to get enthusiastic about job-hunting and went for about four or five job interviews and then bummed around for two months. Which I don't regret of course. Then I started work in February and that was it. It feels like my whole life has gone by now, time moved by SO fast. Friggin' hell it's September!

Sometimes I feel like I'm watching my life go by, and if I listen properly I can almost hear the clock ticking. I don't know why I feel like I'm racing against time but I just keep thinking that if I don't decide and act upon what I really want, it's going to be too late. I don't want to think that I could have made a difference, and a change and I chose not to.

But the big bloody annoying question is what? Yea, I like my job, I like my life, I'm very comfortable...wait. That's it though. I am comfortable. It's too easy.

You know I was reading a book the other day called the Upside of Irrationality (thankfully my reading habit hasn't slowed just because I've started working...I have read so many things and I have so much to say...of course!). And there was a chapter called the IKEA effect, which summarizes that human beings generally tend to love something more, or get more attached when they've put in effort to build it. In fact, this is so true I would even apply it to relationships, but that's another story for another time. And you know, the way we live in KL, we don't do anything for ourselves. We have maids that we depend one, we have gardeners, we have it all extremely easy. And I have a niggling feeling that this is not the life that I want. I think I would feel more purposeful if I got up in the morning and made my own breakfast, like how I used to in Perth instead of having it made for me. I get a tiny sense of satisfaction when I make my own coffee, so I might be on to something.

The point is though, I feel slightly (okay, maybe a lot) useless because I'm not doing anything for myself, it's all been done for me. Of course there were moments in Perth when I wished and prayed so hard for a fairy godmother to swoop down from somewhere and help me do my laundry but I also remember feeling good, really really really good in Perth. I had a sense of accomplishment, a sense of calling everything mine. I had my own space, my own radio alarm clock, my own shoes, my own desk. And here it feels like its not really mine, like I'm living in someone else's room.

I should do my own shit, really. I need to stop living a borrowed life. And we really need to stop depending on the maid to do every single small thing. When the hell did we get so lazy dudes?

Alright, I'll start with a small goal: cook breakfast on Saturday. Mom will be happy too. Why the hell not?

Yea, next time you ask yourself why, counter yourself with WHY NOT. It's the best line I've ever used. Try it.

Find It Yourself

So I'm a working girl now. No I do not identify with being a woman, yet. Maybe sometimes, when I need to bribe people to buy me chocolate to stave off the PMS blues.

It's been two months since I've started the writing job and I look back in wonder - where did the time go? Yes, I finally understand how people feel when they joyfully proclaim, "THE WEEKEND IS HERE!" When Friday comes around, I do feel actual bliss, especially when the hand on the clock says 6. I understand when people tell me that they're just too goddamn tired to come out and talk to people they don't really know or like. They want to sit at home and stare goofily at the wall. And I finally get that there's nothing wrong with that.

As usual, I'm trying to do too much with very little time. I think my life would be abnormal if I wasn't being Superman. I will not post up my plans here just because I don't want to jinx it and also because, if it's on the Internet then you can be assured that the whole world will know it. Actually, on second thoughts, there are a lot of things out there that goes unread. I am still plundering my way through undiscovered gems. Gah, I sound like a conventional travel writer - this is what working in a lifestyle magazine will do to you!

The office is quiet today, looks like it's a busy week for launches and press conferences. It's quite fascinating really, to be a part of all this. Sometimes I just want to sit in a corner and watch everything unfold. If you are a member of the media, you will be greeted warmly at the door. People will stand by to usher you to your seats and you will be given a goody bag (to be honest, the most exciting thing I got from a goody bag was mayonnaise but I'm not complaining). Of course, if you work in a glamorous magazine, the goody bag will be as shiny as you. There is almost always a good chance that you'll be fed by the end of the event, even if it's just light refreshments. I've seen a proper buffet and also been part of a sit-down meal (SWANKEH). The bottom line is, the public relations team of any company has to be nice to the media. And it makes me sad really, because it's all so fake. Oh boo-hoo, take a number, nobody cares.

Yea that's another thing you realize too - it doesn't matter if your life is falling apart at the seams, if you have something to do, you have to do it. No one is going to be there, handing you the tissue while you sob about your latest crisis. There might be someone there, but all they'll be handing you is another piece of paper. They might also demand an explanation for your missed deadline. No tears, no sympathy, no molly-coddling. Not everyone is going to be sympathetic if you can't find what you're looking for or if you got yelled at by the marketing guys.

And I think that is what's missing from education. We are so used to being spoonfed information that when we finally reach our respective offices, we blink when someone says, "Find it yourself."

Oh Malaysia, how you give me heartaches.

2010: Looking Back

I spent the whole day rifling through my old posts and clearing up junk. I feel zen now, if that is an adjective. It should be, if it isn't. Last year, I went through some huge changes - with my life, my outlook on it and my habits. I learnt the value of hard work and of finishing things. 2010 was my last year as a university student at Murdoch. I am now a graduate, and I wouldn't be had I not gone through said changes. I'm not sure exactly, what brought it on. Maybe it was Gran, glaring down at me from wherever she was (I can imagine her gallivanting in PD or Chennai...trust her). I wonder if change always has to come from pain, but it does make sense.

In December 2009, Mima (beloved grandmother to me) passed away, peacefully, while sound asleep. I guess she didn't like the nurses we hired for her. It was painful for us, but it was nice to see her float away from her human shackles. There was a collective gasp, then a sigh of relief in our house. She had suffered enough.

In January 2010, I developed a weird case of shopaholicism. I went to One Utama weekly, hungrily going into shops and buying pretty new things. I wonder now if it was my own way of dealing with sadness. I also wonder if Gran possessed me for awhile, pissed off that Dad gave me a credit card and neglected to give her one.

In February 2010, I went back to Perth, plumper, darker and shiny with my new trinkets. I made new friends and took Children's Theatre. It was the beginning of the end. I organized a graduation party and was diagnosed with a Urinary Tract Infection.

In March 2010, I attended Vivek's graduation and got his Mom to hate me. 9 months later, I found out that she was just starting to like me. Oh, the irony. I auditioned for the part of the pirate in CT and got the role of the singing, dancing duck. I'll never live it down.

In April 2010, I went to IKEA and bought a wok for AUD$9.95. It grew a thin layer of rust after 5 months. I stopped asking the other half to come with me to movies. We began to lead separate lives, meeting back at the dinner table.

In May 2010, I performed my role as a dancing duck (they cut out the singing, damn you, short attention span!)in front of giggling children. I passed up all my assignments and fell back onto my chair, giddy with relief and exhilaration. I wanted to do it all over again. I booked my ticket for Melbourne and cried when I handed over my debit card to the flight agent. She was nice about it and gave me her name card to shut me up.

In June 2010, I signed on for a winter unit which specialized on comedy in plays. I studied Wilde, Fo and Stoppard. I watched countless movies and ironed clothes. I moved into my own room, without a room mate. I watched her move out and went to put up my posters on the ugly white walls. We went to see Me and Orson Welles two months later. I quit my job at the Asian cafe and got hired at an upscale Malaysian restaurant. I was on my way to selling out.

In July 2010, I flew to Melbourne and promptly fell in love with it. I spent a night at Syar's place and made butter chicken in her kitchen. Then I spent the rest of the nights in a blurry haze of alcohol and raucousness. I looked up at the city lights and saw the possibilities. I came back to Perth and immediately wanted to fly back. I made friends with good people in Melbourne and none will be forgotten. I slaved over my Winter Unit and came out with an appreciation for comedians. I picked up more shifts at work and made up for all the money I spent in Melbourne.

In August 2010, I found out that I had to take five units if I wanted to graduate by this year. I took a deep breath and enrolled for three heavy units and two light ones; one a first year unit in Photography, the other a course on the transition from the university to the workplace. Everyone whom I told this too asked me how I would manage to sleep at night. I replied, "Soundly." My Italian boss and his wife from Malaysia sold their business to an Australian man. They told him not to change anything. He didn't listen. Two of my flatmates got involved in a car accident. They're better than ever now.

In September 2010, I bought my ticket for the annual Village Ball and blew AUD$200 getting ready for it. I'm not sure if it was worth it, but the jewellery from Diva was pretty. I reasoned that I could use the dress for clubbing. I grew to appreciate photography; urban landscape in particular. I always liked them big buildings. I attended Shashank's graduation and went to eat pork ribs in Tony Roma's after the ceremony. We ended up in an English pub later, one of the last places left in Perth where you could smoke in the alfresco area. They were overruling this a week from that day. My new boss caught on to the fact that I didn't have a Responsible Service for Alcohol certificate (RSA) and told me that I had to get one or I wouldn't get a shift. I paid $90 for a woman to tell me that alcohol in Western Australia needs to be monitored. I read Eat, Pray, Love and enjoyed it.

In October 2010, I attended the Village Ball and couldn't stomach the cheap wine. I came home sober and with my hair undone. I booked my ticket for Malaysia and told my parents I was coming home two days later than the actual date. I interviewed an inspiring man who started up his own copywriting business after he got disillusioned with mainstream media. I started to take a real interest in politics, the environment, the nature of business news and journalism. I watched the Eat, Pray, Love movie and was disappointed. I got lost in McEwan, Lahiri and Kundera. I got disgusted at the world after researching for my politics essay.

In November 2010, I went to hell and came back. I passed up eight assignments in two weeks. I saw the licking flames and roasted in a slow circle. The feeling I got from finishing it all was incredible. I got crazily drunk and said bye to Perth. I didn't know that I wasn't coming back. Dad got diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma seven days after I passed up my last undergraduate assignment. I got called for an interview at Wisma UOA for the position of an 'information analyst'. I didn't take the job.

In December 2010, Vivek and I decided that we couldn't continue our relationship as I would be staying back in KL as opposed to flying back to Perth in January, as originally planned. We broke it off two days before his 23rd birthday. He left for Bali and I stayed over at Payal's house. We played Taboo. I got my results back on the 10th of December - I had graduated. Payal and I went out for drinks the next night and neither of us remembers much. It was a good night. I went for an interview with Smart Investor and met the editor for half an hour at the Aman Suria office. While shopping at Jaya 33, I was reminded of grocery shopping in Perth as a couple. Somewhere around the third week, Mom and the brother fell sick, and I followed suit. I celebrated the New Year's with Payal and Nim. We were rudely shoved and groped in the crowd, but it was a good night.

2010 taught me plenty and showed me how to have a good time. I came to realize that all you really need to survive this thing called Life is yourself and your precious friends. If you stop looking for happiness in people and things, and start making life happen, the happiness will come by itself. It is something that needs to be worked at continuously, much like having a relationship. I advocate having a relationship with yourself and not jumping the gun, like many of us have done in the past. I forgot how nice it is to sit at home all day in pajamas and read my way through a whole book. I forgot how cool it is to see movies back to back (again, in my pajamas). Clean your room weekly and open the windows. Smell the rain and don’t ever think that you are alone.

With pain, comes gain. This I promise you.

Take a Break

Ok so I lied.

I did end up in the bookstore, and not even a secondhand one (I went to Dymocks!) and, well...bought a book. So what else is new.
In my defense though, I got a book that I thought might not be available any more in KL - We Need to Talk About Kevin by Lionel Shriver. I saw it years ago in MPH but hey maybe they ran out of stock right?
Of course, since the shopping bug has bit me (since January 2010 when I bumped my knee on the ground after toppling out of a roller-coaster in Genting - more on that later, remind me to tell you the story) I couldn't resist going into other stores. No I didn't buy clothes, which is what everyone wants to hear but I did buy a belt once at Harbour Town. It was 4bucks. I bought some pretty stationery! I got a purple to-do list notebook that folds down like a desk calendar. It's awesome. And a black and purple pen. And also some stuff from the Reject Shop - more stationery. I swear I wasn't even planning to go into Dymocks...it just happened!
Anyway, there is just too much to do these days, I feel like my head is going to go kaputs. Doesn't help that I got a Credit for an essay that I was hoping would get a Distinction. Oh well. Just have to work harder. It wasn't my favourite topic (ethical issues...euw) to write an essay on and perhaps I was a little de-motivated. When I love the topic I need to write on, I usually do well. Like when I wrote about Virginia Woolf. It was very exciting. I'm not expecting a Distinction for the second essay I passed up because I don't think I structured it very well but hey, miracles have happened.
I am going to watch Masterchef and eat lunch...then ARRRRRGHHHH...back to work. Damnit.

Two more weeks, chin up!

Smiggles

So, I finished my essay. And now I don't know what to do with myself. I'm nearly done with my readings for class on Thursday. I'm ahead of schedule. I feel wierd!
Usually I'm busy not doing assignments and feeling immensely guilty while I not do them. Wow I'm suddenly on top of things.
Ok let's not jinx it. I've still got 9 assignments left. And not all of them are as weighty as the essay so I'm just putting things in perspective. I need to memorise lines as well because I'm a showgirl now!
Over the holidays last December I spent the majority of my time reading. It was beautiful really. I didn't on the tv set, I didn't go online, I forgot to shower sometimes. I covered a lot of ground but obviously I went to another book sale and brought back a carton full of books. I need a new bookshelf. Anyone with a spare please be a doll and pass it to me. When my parents came down I actually passed them books I had finished. I know it's shocking that I was able to part with them but I did it! I still have about 30 books with me in Perth though. Don't tell them that. Oh and I bought more. Geez.
Funny thing happened when I moved to Perth. In my first semester, I hated all things Australian just because I was that homesick (and deranged...not much has changed). I even boycotted Australian writers and in my head I made them out to be not worth my time. In one of my classes, I was introduced to Peter Carey and was forced to read one of his short stories. I liked it. But being the stubborn bull that I am, refused to pick up his books still. During my winter break last year, I was browsing the awards list on Wikipedia - I believe it was for the Booker Prize. Peter Carey was on the list for his book Oscar and Lucinda I believe. I checked the library catalogue - they didn't have Oscar and Lucinda, but they had True History of the Kelly Gang. I had heard of Ned Kelly but I was still a bit skeptical when I checked out the book. Nothing in the back cover really spoke to me. But as I struggled through the first few pages (it is written in 'slang' and it is quite difficult to read at first but one gets the hang of it quickly) and managed to pull through, I found that I could not put it down. His language was evocative and poetic, even with their odd slang use of 'chooks' (chickens) and other things. I quickly fell in love with the character of Ned Kelly (I imagined this really buff dude in my head covered with nothing but sheepskin on appropriate parts...oops) and the love story between him and his future wife was really intimate and breathtaking. When I finished it I didn't want it to end which is the feeling I get when I read a really really good book and then I realised I had officially lifte my boycott. But it was totally worth it. Peter Carey is now one of my favourite authors and I recently bought Oscar and Lucinda. Will tell you how it is.
I've also been recommended Tim Winton on several different occasions and I met a lady at my workplace who is friends with Winton (omg, how exciting!!!) and spoke highly of Cloudstreet. In her words, she said it was "the best book she had ever read in her life." I wanted to go out there and then and buy it but then I looked in my wallet. But money issues aside, the book is really hard to find, apparently because it sells out really fast. I shall not give up though, I will have a copy very soon.
Off to go shopping ( I will try and stay away from the bookstore...no promises though).

Say It With Me: Drama Queen!

Geez, I'm dramatic aren't I?

Didn't realize that until I read my last few posts. Don't even want to read back further than that, I want to cringe a little bit when I think about it.
Why is it so hard to read back on what you write? I'm having that problem as I'm writing for my huge creative writing project due in 3weeks. I have about 1,000 words. I need 4,000 more. And please don't look at me like that I'm taking 4 units this semester. Because I'm an idiot that's why. Oh, and also I'm racing to graduate by this year, I don't care what it takes!
By the way, I'm allowed to be dramatic now because I'm taking a unit called Children's Theatre and I get to play a duck. Yep, I'm not a tree but I'm supposed to be a cute, waddling, yellow, fluffy duck. I don't even know how to wiggle my ass (without some alcohol in my system). I am not going on that stage sober! But uhm, yea it's for children. I can't have tequila on my breath. Oh screw it, they're probably drinking more than I am right now. So, I am a Von Duck Family Singer and I get to sing a song (about ducks naturally, we don't actually have it yet so keep yer' fingers crossed!) and dance around in a showgirl kind of way. Get the feeling that this shouldn't be for kids? Yea. You should see our costumes too. I tried it on and looked like a really naughty french maid. Oh well, don't worry. I'm not going on stage without protection.
Right now I'm finishing an essay that's due tomorrow. I have 800 words left which really doesn't sound that bad. I was tempted to skip work but if you skip work you can't pay rent so that was outta the question. I now have enough for rent plus 10bucks to spend. Three cheers for my bank account! This is what happens when you work in a crappy Asian food cafe place with kiasu bosses who are really nice but are too damn cheap for their own good. I was cutting up onions and threw out a bit that looked dodgy and my lady-boss took it out of the trash and put it back on my chopping board. Lady, buy another bag, it costs like, I don't know, 2dollars? Geez.
What else - I have to workshop a creative writing piece and let my peers give me constructive criticism (rip it to shreds and kill my self-esteem). I have to submit a journal that is supposed to encompass records of my thoughts about 13 weeks of drama class. I've only done 1week. Oh well. I have to workshop a literary journalism piece that I've interviewed so many people for but I haven't found the perfect subject yet. Students can be really boring. I mean honestly. All we do is study, eat, sleep, binge-drink and wake up in the hospital. Where is the excitement?

My parents came to visit two weeks ago. Yea, time flies. It was so cool but I miss them already. I've been here for three years but this friggin homesickness refuses to go away. It's like a disease, I swear. I mean I like Perth as much as the next Asian despite having things thrown at me, but eh. Home is home I say.

I Dream...

Of nostalgia and Enid Blyton,
of mischief and twinkling eyes,
Of water balloons and sleepovers,
of Spice Girls and boy bands.

I'm still that kid and I refuse to grow up. Hope Dad doesn't read this. I'll get a job I swear Pa!

Peace to you and to you and to you. Now go finish your own essay and quit procrastinating. That's my job. Toodles.

One down!

The summary is done, now one to bigger and better things :)

I am going to eat now, before I do anything else!