Ranting

Sometimes I could rage and rage.
Sometimes just want to bend over double and sob.
Sometimes I feel just numb.

I hate office politics.

Stressing, obsessing

I think I'm obsessing a little here. I've been having it messing my head since late afternoon and despite the discovery of an awesome new blog I'm still just replaying the incident over and over and over in my mind. Again.

It was an okay day at work. Busy, but not crazily so. And in my scale these days 'crazy busy' meant days I enjoy a 20-minute heated lunch downstairs and jump straight back to work, finally realise I better have a wee because holding it in is starting to hurt and it finally registers, and I don't have time to sneak a peek at my personal emails or Facebook at all, and I vaguely hear the beep of people logging off their phones at 5.30pm and then realise it's the end of the day. Yep, technically I have a 9am-5.30pm day job and I don't work beyond those hours (mostly) but what I (think I) do in those hours would be nearly herculean in quantities.

I don't know if the quality suffers but I can say this: something's gotta give, I don't know what it is, but I don't think it'll take long to find out.

Not when an email's enough to send me to sobbing in the loo or I'm just angry all the time and numb about the rest of my non-work life because the anger at work is cathartic and all I'm left with outside work is a person I register as 'me', just drained with a couldn't-be-bothered outlook.

No holidays planned? Who cares.
No money to do anything anyway? Oh well.
The rabbit did a binkie! Woop.
The neighbour upstairs is running his thumping washing machine for the xth number of time today. Yeah whatever.
Birthday coming up in a week. Oh yeah but it's still so cold outside.

You know what I mean?

By the way, an ok day meant I actually had time to make a May to-do list (ever growing), some training to the new person, run around a couple of meetings, go have a discussion with someone on the sales floor (and wait while he hangs about on the phone) and maybe a lunchtime supermarket run.

I have so, so many things to say about work, but don't want to infringe myself or get in trouble. But basically the most basic facts are:

• I work in a team of three.
• We lost our 3rd person at the start of Feb.
• We just recruited our new 3rd person mid-April.
• I'm not the team leader.
• My team leader gets shoved with work that normally does not sit with us and this pushed the daily tasks (for three) to me and I flew solo with as much assistance as I can bolsh off of my team leader and we somehow managed to negotiate the last couple of months.
• The work for my team leader did not stop coming to him so consequently the training of our new person got left to me and I somehow missed the memo and did not realise this until I voice out the 'Hang on..but...'
• And at the end of April I realise this: My job now consists of 3 major things: Daily tasks, contracts work and training of new person.
• I can do any 2 of those 3 things. I cannot do all 3, not on my own. But I just have to suck it up and roll with it.

But dya know what?

I think I'm cracking. :(

I don't like showing too much weakness at work because it's all about raising my profile and showing (the right) people I am competent. And most days I don't leave work thinking I could've done better. I swear (to the new gods and old) I do the darndest best I can within the limitations I work in and in the time I am allocated.


Sometimes I take a shortcut or two, but fuck me, it's about working efficiently or is it not?
I think I'm allowed.

I try to shove back some of the responsibilities to the people who try to fob them off to us. Because when they go 'Hello Team', at the moment there's no 'team', there's me masquerading as 'team'. So without imploring to their kindness, I ask them if they are ok sorting out what they should be anyway, and I'll smooth out the edges and forward them on to the right people and try to get the right responses back. Sometimes I lose track of what I've done for whom, but that's what 'Inbox' and 'Sent' are for, right? And end of the day what I assist them with get them the numbers and targets and bonuses and whatever. Me? I go home end of every month with my modest salary and not a penny more. Although I feel compelled to mention people do thank me with Easter chocolates and the odd bottle of wine or two. You have no idea how appreciated I feel when I get given things like that. Not because I expected them, but they usually come from people for whom you think, 'But I was just doing my job! I didn't do much at all for you and certainly didn't think what I did was above and beyond...!'

Don't get me started on people who think we were employed solely into their service and who think we should be at their beck and call. Bad enough to be the bottom feeders, but these people expect us to do all their donkey jobs for them and do it with a cheerful 'yes ma'am!' and will tell you off for being sarky. What do you get from these people? No-effing-thing. If you get so much as a 'cheers mate' you should go out and buy the lottery, like, now.

So yes. I bloody well thought I've been doing ok coping with the workload and all so why do I let one email (and this happened more than once) ruin my entire evening? It came at the end of the workday, questioning my 'logic' of forwarding on something 'without checking'. How in the effing world do I know what needs checking when all I can think off when I open the document was '?!?!!!!????'. Without being given so much of an explanation or any information about the content of the document, I get told off that the document came back needing changing. Suddenly it's my fault and the rest of the email insinuated that I've been incompetent.

I was really, really upset.

I am already trying to make the best out of the situation, thinking if I just accept that I need to train the new person and do all the jobs meanwhile it will eventually look good for me anyway.

But this is the scary bit for me. I know the more I train the more work the new person could do, but that means taking time away from all the 'urgent fucking urgent' emails I have to attend do. So what do I frigging do?! What decisions should I take? Why isn't there a voice in my head telling me what to do!?

And then there's that little niggling in me thinking I'm being taken for a ride and no one (of importance) will even notice and I can only wonder if I can rise through the ranks of seniority or management or stay forever in my teeny role.

I'm upset because all my holding things together gets undone by a single person sending a single email in the many we receive daily.

I'm upset I let this upset me.

I'm upset knowing tomorrow I still have a big to-do and I just remembered I need to do my appraisals and how the hell am I going to achieve that.

When I was younger I imagined myself a successful careerwoman jetsetting around the world.

Now knowing what needs to be done to realise this 'successful career', I just want to win the lottery and not need to work and then moan about it in a blog.

I'm upset I don't have time to wee at work because of all the 'urgent' things people want me to do for them.

You know what's urgent? When someone's dying in front of you, jeez.
Not when you're off for a holiday in Florida tomorrow and just conveniently want 6 different departments to tie up all your loose ends for you that became urgent because you sat on them for days.

Bloody hell, what a moan-y cow I am.

Many successful lawyers, accountants and doctors are probably sniggering at this post thinking what's my workday compared to theirs.

Late but better than..

Last night (and Fri) if I had the ability to face a screen for hours and could muster the energy to switch on my laptop, this would've been what I'd written:

I've been having a really, REALLY sore left elbow for a couple of weeks now. The doc said I have tennis elbow (I know! I don't even play tennis!) and I can't even go back to the doc unless I start dropping things due to lack of grip/strength. I really don't want to drop things. Meanwhile, my elbow continues to be sore. On top of my sore elbow...

I have a left pink eye. I've not been the cleanest person with my contacts, but this one really bit me in the proverbial ass. My left eye was so red and swollen I was embarassed to look anyone in the eye at work. It was agony looking at my computer screen for hours at a time. And my right eye was starting to show signs of being cross-infected. I had an oozy eye for a couple of days which has now thankfully reduced to being teary and light-sensitive.

My periodic regular ulcer/canker sore attacks were back with a vengeance. I frantically applied Iglu to the ones I can reach but there's nothing I could do about the gargantuan canker sore at the tip of my uvula.

And the icing on the cake is I was also on my period.

I was a very, very happy bunny.

This bunny really wanted wants to get away from the world.

The wants and needs

So want a cat and a dog...my womb pines and pines for them.

Thank goodness the same cannot be said for a real human baby.

While the idea appeals insofar that a baby would be an amalgamation of The Boy and me and I want to know who it'd look like,that's where the desire ends. I do not want to pay for it. I do not want to raise it. I do not want the responsibility, heartache and exhaustion associated with child-rearing.

And I rather pay for new clothes than baby food. 'nuff said.

Cat/dog though...

Patience.

One day I will be stable enough for that.

Soon!

Taking advice

Honestly.

If I seek advice I'd ask.

I do not need offhand remarks to suck it up.

And at the same time I do not need to feel judged.

For my choices in life.

For sucking it up and getting on with it.


(Or is it that I've grown such a streak of independence.

And cannot accept criticisms of any kind.

They bring me right back to my younger days.

When I do not like being told what to do.

I like to believe I have cultivated.

The moral compass and the judgement.

To know right from wrong.)

Dear Faith and Fate,

I know I’ve asked of you two things recently.

Maybe I wasn’t sincere enough.

Maybe it was too much bargain-like.

Maybe it’s because I’ve not been giving enough and trusting enough and believing enough, that I came to you only in times of need.

So maybe I have no right to ask at all.

Much less expect.

I’ll leave it up to you, Wise One.

I cannot See, so I just have to accept.

*Knock knock*

*Pssst*

Hello you.

I'm still here.

Still alive.

I've left the world of blogging in favour of privacy. Life became a little monotonous, despite the changes heaped on me over the past year. Because I'm still..here.

It's been one big year.

I'll talk about it one day. Maybe.

Meanwhile, just a shout out to say that boo-boo I made in my last post, nearly a year ago? Ah it didn't matter.

Yeah, Happy Chinese New Year to you too.

Probably the least Chinese-y, festive one yet. In other words, I had a day off, went for some tapas and a museum visit.

And came back to work where it went tits up. I made a big boo-boo aand now I feel so, so, so sorry and embarassed and worried about what I've inadvertedly done.

People not thinking you're working hard is a hard pill to swallow. Especially when it isn't true. After a life of overachieving, I've brought that principle and work ethic with me and I thought I'm doing okay. According to some people perhaps, it was wrong.

Sometimes I wonder what I am doing, y'know? 11 years of school, 2 years of college and 3+1 years in university later...where am I? Sales environment is so brutal. Your background doesn't matter unless it's one that's involved figures and margins and profits and revenues. I know in my heart of hearts I'm not cut out for it and never will be. I don't disdain it but I have no patience for the culture that comes with it.

'tis not me, enough said.

It's just that phrase made famous by some TVB actress.
I admit fate but I'll never admit defeat.

Also I recognise I cannot run away forever, and this is yet another lesson in life I need to learn. And in order to learn in I need to get on with it, and go through it.

It's the rat race and for what it's worth, I am part of it now. It's just life, innit?

Because of that phrase "not good enough", I spent years in uni over-compensating. And I know once I get over the chagrin, I will try to over-compensate, it's not that it hasn't happened yet, but the desired effect hasn't been achieved. It hurts, because I take it hard, I care too much, and take it personally.

What can I do? Just get on with this one and work hard.

:(

This really, truly takes the cake for a Chinese New Year that never came.

This is one story full of shit I've read.

Commitment!

Leong Chi Wei

Bachelor of Finance (Hons)

Class of March 2010


When I was a student in UTAR, "thinking" was my favorite activity as it enabled me to explore life and to understand further what life really was as well as my role and contribution towards family, friends and the community then.

I always ensure myself to develop plans and set goals to excel in all aspect of my life- family, friends, studies, curricular activities etc. It is all about being truly committed to achieve your goals set in order to make family & friends feel proud of you, and at the same time contributing to the community and nation building.

Very often, I find people tend to ignore the importance of goal setting in their lives and therefore would just head to nowhere and depend on how luck plays along the way. Without a target, a person is not motivated to achieve something that would benefit the family and community and that, in my opinion, is a very selfish act. When a person has the potential to do something that would benefit others, he should strive to achieve that.

While some may claim that they do set their goals, but how committed are they in achieving the goals? Unfortunately, more often than not, goals are not achieved simply due to lack of commitment resulted from low level of determination and perseverance.

With goals and commitment, I would say I am happy with my days in UTAR as a student representative who had contributed to the students' welfare and development. Time management skills came in handy then as I needed to balance my time for family, friends, studies, sports and student representative duties.

Presently I am a unit trust consultant with Public Mutual assisting clients in financial planning. It is always nice to help others improve their financial position as this would enable them to solve their financial problems and achieve financial freedom in future. Besides, those contributions are in line with Malaysia Vision 2020 to become a developed and a high-income nation and that is the reason I choose the career.

It's always not easy to make changes for better life but it is possible with a full commitment. To do that, first you need the courage to step out of your comfort zone and pledge to strive forward at any cost to achieve success in life that would eventually contribute to the society.

Lastly, feel free to drop me an email or text me to keep in touch with one another. Email: cn_leong@hotmail.com Hp No: 017-6593817.

This came through the UTARian January Newsletter. Glad I never participated in its self-praising fest, especially by inflated egos patronising the rest of his peers for being 'lesser'.

Short musings

I had this thought in my head since yesterday, I think it came from something I watched on telly..maybe, possibly...I don't know, I have very short-term memory and my memory retention is close to nil these days. It may actually be fair to call me an air-head.

Ah, but I remember now. It was from the book I'm currently reading (Beautiful as Yesterday, Fan Wu). Something about a really good writing programme in Colombia.

At least I think that's Colombia...

Aaaanyway, point is, do you need to go through a programme (undergrad, postgrad, whatever) to be a good writer? Most probably not, but if I have the luxury of choosing, would I go to one? Well, not creative writing cos I just don't do creative writing, but critical thinking and writing, yes, in a heartbeat.

What makes reading someone's writing worthwhile? It's not enough that someone has a story to tell, but the story need to be told in an engaging way to capture an audience. There must be story development and not just skimming the surface of people, emotions, places...you know the gist.

Like how lecturers moan that it's not enough to teach, they have to do it in an entertaining, informative way, droners go nowhere...but that's how it is, isn't it? I've said it years ago, charisma is important, and I'm glad this particular teenage wisdom of mine still holds true (although regrettably probably quite a few won't).

But also, I think in order to write, one must have something to say...which explains my lack of blogging, I suppose, because more often than not I have nothing to say that is of importance or amusement enough to warrant a sit down and a think.

Hell, I don't bother dissecting much myself, and reading Xiaxue's longer blogs sometimes make me realise she's written well thought-out arguments, and bothered to put them in a logical sequence.

Suppose that's what writing's all about, no?

I think writing allows me to think, to piece together my thoughts, to elaborate on what I'm thinking, and to put it all in a logical order. I'm thinking right now as I type. This is the random thought in my mind right this second.

I wonder if this is the thought process of most people, or do they think first, and then put it down and set it in stone, so to speak?

I really did enjoy the practicalities and learning of media in uni, and I really actually do miss it. I want to go back in time to savour it all once more, not that I wasn't aware the first time around. I do regret not carrying on with media studies and picked up politics instead (what was I thinking, ack!), but it's now in the past, who knows, one day, maybe I can afford to go back to school. Now I cannot, and now I have a job to go to and bills to pay and life to carry on, but I'm glad that just reading about writing ignited thoughts in my head that I haven't had in a while.

Passion, passion is something I need to find, a reason to live and a meaning of life.

Season's Greetings and all that...

...yes, some down time after a few mind-numbingly frantic months, and currently I'm doing nowt that can be counted as substantially productive.

How can this be that I'm now this sloth-like person with not much motivation or zest for life, and life is work, weekend, work, weekend, rinse and repeat?

Where's that sense of adventure and curiousity?

Hibernation and awaiting financing. That's what.

Money is the biggest obstacle...that, and dragging a less wander-lusty boy about.

That being said, I'm off to Newcastle to see Shean tomorrow, and to get some dimsum down my parched throat.

A hilarious little nugget meanwhile: I bought a HTC Desire off Amazon late in Nov, and as we all know, England was crippled by the earlier heavy snow and cold weather, I mean, granted I was here to witness it all afterall it was perishingly cold (cannot forget that one morning I waited in -13C temperatures for my lift to work), and the seller, for reasons unknown, decided to send it a few days late, AFTER the heavy snowfall. Result?

My phone never arrived.

After some amiable 'how now?' and 'oh nos' with the seller, I got my refund and before Christmas even arrived, my hands itched and went click, click, click. I checked on other HTC Desires on offer on Amazon again. I really really craved it, I wanted a smartphone for what must've been a year now only to wait and wait, and when I finally bought one, I wanted it there and then. I so nearly had it as well, but no, it's still stuck in some depot somewhere (or perhaps it's in the warm hands of a postie, I don't know), so with the refund I went ahead and ordered another one. Emailed the seller to please send it tracked. He replied by saying, no, not sending the phone to Nigeria unless he's been paid.

WTF?

But it was just a small misunderstanding, he had people trying to con him, and all's good. He sent it tracked the next day, and here's me thinking, oh with the Christmas rush (it was only 2 days before Christmas), I best send it to the office (safer), plus it'll only arrive way after Christmas, right?

Wrong.

It arrived on Christmas Eve. The first day I was off work. That night, I checked the tracking, and kicked myself. Because now the earliest I could get it would be Wednesday when the office reopens, which was then 4 days away. But nooo, Wednesday I'm in Newcastle! I'm only back in York Thursday afternoon, late. I have a window of an hour and half to take a bus to the office to retrieve my phone. Would it be worth the effort?

I think so.

So Thursday I'll go to the office even though I'm clearly still on leave.

£"$%^&^%$£"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Apologies, that little nugget of a story wasn't so little now, huh.

*************************

You know, with 2010 nearly done and dusted now, I feel so much less sentimental than I used to be to see a passing year. In fact, a lot of things changed, but a year's just another year.

My brain these days is slightly muddled and murky, like, I have no clear thoughts or even attempted to clear my thoughts. It's just one day to another. But also, I cannot deny this: I am sad. I don't know over what, but a blanket of sadness and worry covers my head and torments me almost every night. I think I'm just worried about the future, or rather, about having no future.

I want to be happy, but that's so hard to achieve.

I don't feel sexy, or pretty, or good about myself, because I don't have the self-belief, or confidence.

I don't feel intelligent, or knowledgeable, or wise, because I don't have the answers.

And this place is very difficult a place for me to be in.

Maybe this is truly the first time in my life that I don't feel secure because there's no beginning and end to look forward to, like finishing school, or graduating, or finishing a contract? Not many friends here, although I'm so grateful and so blessed with a couple of friends yet that I can still talk with sometimes...

I know now for a fact that I've lost certain people, and I thought I'd come to terms with it, but like ghosts and phantoms, they resurrect and haunt, and I'm still learning the art of letting go. Love is truly a strange thing, both to give and to receive.

Like I said, I've not analysed this properly on purpose. I've not written down my thoughts, or anchored it with anything.

I don't need more thinking, you see. I need new interests, and faith.

And a bit more money.

Aiyaaaaaaa!

The feeling of Sadness...

Posted this originally as a comment on Mabel Teoh's blog on the suicide of Alviss Kong

My first inkling of this incident came on Facebook when I saw a link posted by someone to someone else's blog telling a girl off for claiming to be suicidal and to go do an "Alviss Kong" instead of creating more drama.

After a little snooping around, I found the articles and stories...long story short, Alviss was in love with a girl, and had a 4-month relationship with her, which ended despite him 'confessing 5 times' to her - and he jumped off a building (for reasons apparently ranging from to prove his love for her, to not being able to handle the rejection...I'm not sure and won't claim to understand).

True enough at 22, and on his second relationship, he hasn't gained the maturity to understand love isn't always mutual and often go unrequited. Four months may have seemed an eternity. Perhaps it's effects of Chinese pop culture - I've always wondered why Chinese loves songs are so melancholic, so full of rejection, death and pining - the idea and romanticism of love in a culture that ironically isn't all that romantic and more often, plagued with practicalities, tradition and conservative in-laws. It affects the young who pined over someone for years, and gained the idea that once they're in love with someone, they have to possess the subject and when spurned, they have to stalk, hurt and destroy the subject's happiness, or not allow anyone else to be with the poor person, either. It's all typical stories, and I've heard about them in various degrees about acquaintences (of acquaintances)...if only we all learn to be more siu sa or 冷淡 about it...

But I digress.

It is the ugly comments and posts of fellow Malaysians, that highlight how unforgiving, judgmental and shallow the society is.

Everyone played the blame game, those without sympathy said so with such derision ...and so very very few showed kindness or empathy. Is it true our collective emotional quotient is so low, so few learned to show aa bit of kindness and understanding towards others?

I remember the case of the Singaporean medical student who died in a hit and run in London on her birthday, and felt so sad for her lost life. But a bit of googling revealed the comments by Singaporeans questioning why she's outside the hospital she worked in at that late hour, as if it was of utmost importance. Some poured unfounded accusations of her being a sex worker out at night (like so many other Singaporeans who abused their student status, apparently), and showed their contempt at her for being a scholarship holder at Cambridge (green-eyed monsters, anyone?). You know the saying 'if you have nothing good to say, say nothing at all?'

The Internet and the anonymity it provides allow nameless and faceless people to pour their shit wherever they want. Instead of expression of sadness or shock or condolences, people receive contemptuous, cruel, thoughtless comments and jeers. Medium is the message though.

This is just a microcosm of our society and culture, one so steeped deeply in me by my mum and peers, the culture I've tried hard the last two years to cut my ties and untangle the webs from...it's a kiasu society stricken by a structural lack of empathy and understanding towards those who are sad, or different. Those whose aspirations don't fall into the typical line of study hard > great career > marriage > car & house > children. A culture that refuses to acknowledge there are different ways of life. It is a society that can be so cruel with thoughts and words, and one that can stand aside to watch others suffer and not lift a finger to help, while maintaining a commentary of cruel comments for their own amusement. A society that both cared too much about what others think but at the same time, is extremely individualistic and self-centred. A culture of superficiality, maintaining appearances and refusal to seek out depth of understanding on emotion. One that's quick to point out someone is chi sin, or chi ma gan, ngong ...the deragatory terms go on and on. What mentality is this?

***

I'm rambling on slightly, but how people reacted to Alviss, and to Mingwei's deaths, both for such vastly different reasons, made me recoil with disgust.

Because I am a product of this society, and I too had my reckonings and learning to be indifferent and different, and why I am staying away. It's not really easy, especially with the feelings of isolation and having no one I could relate to, or talk to. Especially lately as I fight this blanket of pain, anger, sadness and helplessness that suddenly drop on me for no particular reason at all. Lately I feel hopeless and ready to give up, and yet, I have to tread carefully, maintain my sanity and present a normal person to the world, when my insides are screaming. Because I know to show weakness is to ask for trouble and judgment.

Where do I go?

But I'm okay. I'm okay.

***

Was it worth a life, your life?
You claim you love her and now you've given her
A lifetime of haunting.
Regrets and sorrow.
The living have to continue living.

My condolences

Some counter-thoughts...

I haven't done this in ages now, putting some analytical thoughts into this poor neglected blog of mine, and there's a little more reasons to it than me simply being lazy...

But this little nugget is interesting. I found this one by chance. It was a blog entry by a fellow Malaysian who was not born Malaysian but grew up in Malaysia (herein known as M)...and how M said she's always been told she's "doing it wrong" because of the subtle cultural differences she experience growing up in Malaysia.

And the only way she can fit in is to take on the Malaysian culture, 100%.

But...what is the 100% Malaysian culture? From my point of view, I always felt slightly rejected (possibly because I was fat, angry and defensive), and just never been wholly part of the social scene that my friends seemed so comfortable in. I didn't understand it back then, experienced the teenage angst, the whole "Why me!" self-hate and self-pity fest (and grew out of it), but maybe really, deep down, everyone just did what they have to do to fit in, and they just did a better job at fitting in than I did. How'd I know, since I never questioned it, that they were happy doing so, that they never secretly wanted to be different? Leaving Malaysia behind gave me the freedom to be who I am - the Malaysian I am - liberated from social norms and pressure. A little too outspoken, a little too wacky, a little odd for my homelanders' tastes maybe (but how'd I know? Maybe it's just all in my head afterall) but I am being me, but that doesn't detract from the fact that I am Malaysian, my identity shaped by how and where I grew up.

Also, being in the same level playing field as anyone else who isn't British in England, like M is foreign where M is, although I don't see that as a "privilege", I am able to and I do get on with them lovely English people, and while I do make a bit of an effort to pick up the accent, I don't do much of anything else to fit in desperately. The fact is, I'm just from a land faraway and there's little expectations of me from locals. Maybe that's the privilege and opportunity I have - But this fact is still far from making me a "model Asian", because I'm still not a typical Malaysian, or Oriental, or Asian (apart from my obsession with -good- food) person or a model or an illustration of anything, and again, how would I ever know if the mainstream or dominant culture here accepts me? I don't go out much or drink, for example, and that makes me an oddity here. But neither does the boyfriend, and he's actually English, so does that make him unacceptable or that he's "doing it wrong"?

Also, to this point, I am the only, well, Oriental person in a company that has over 120 employees, but again, I just don't see myself being hired as the "Token Asian". I'd hate the thought of that. I know they offered me a job because I was awesome at my interview, not because they wanted to up their cultural diversity levels (although it may have been a bonus point to them, but the decision would've still be made solely on merit). Also, the argument that others aren't easily accepted because they didn't assimilate could be rendered null and void because others just didn't make that effort to. Many students here stick to their own groups, culture and language - be they Spanish, Cypriots, Indians, Chinese or Malay - and they're comfortable being in the outside fringes of English society, insulated by the shared identities and I do not blame them for that. People stick to what they're familiar with just like how I turn to a pack of Maggie Kari and a mug of Milo (with good English cream) for comfort.

As much as I perceive myself as a Malaysian, I still went through the identity confusion, anger and feeling of rejection by how racial politics were played at home. I felt it acutely and took it personally when I was told "jika you tak suka, you balik Cina", like "oi, I am the third generation born here and as Malaysian as anyone else, who the hell are you to think you have the right to tell me to get out?"

But as much as I feel passionate, and as much as I know (or don't know) Malaysia, I still wouldn't speak for Malaysia. I'd speak about it though, but I will never claim to speak for or represent Malaysia. In fact, I always wondered if I'm spreading untrue or inaccurate facts about Malaysia based on my personal experience and always make a disclaimer. I won't say the same about the remarks I made about Singapore though! But I'm NO token Malaysian or Asian. I'm just me, and I just get on with things, and find my own place to belong to.

In the last two years, I learned a lot, and this is the one knowledge I gain - to let go of some of my past prejudices, and to gain wisdom from my experience.

Just because I'm a Chinese ethnically, it doesn't mean I'm less Malaysian, or have less right to talk about my nation or my culture. I have a heritage, and I won't reject that. I'm taking away no one's ability to speak for themselves and their culture, and I learn to explore my own culture, society, language and identity, both ethnically and nationally, at my own pace, because I have no need to answer to anyone. I'd never call China my home, but it doesn't make me less interested in where my forefathers came from, but I know where my loyalties lie.

But really, it's not a privilege to get on with "Westerners" as a "model/token Asian", that distasteful thought just does not sit well with me.

(Enough to spur me to blog about it, although the thought did strike me that maybe I misinterpreted the "privilege" part, because I haven't asked M about it, I cannot be entirely sure I understood what M meant, and this is once more, my personal viewpoint based on an individual's understanding.)

I miss...

...being young.

The older you get, the more your dreams seemed out of reach.

And then, even the dreams fade, to be replaced by practicality and drudgery of life.

This must be what they call 'settling'.

Busy-ness

I think it may be the first time in my life where I was thrown straight into a routine and had no time to think.

I understand what it's like to be a Dilbert in a cubicle.

For I have joined the mindless workforce known as 'office workers' and is now an OL (although whether I qualify or not - leaving the house with only eyeliner and sometimes no makeup at all and zero heels) and the days are inundated by emails and filled with administrative work (no filing though, unless moving emails from my inbox to folders count)...and I only have maybe 2-3 minutes at a time to look at Facebook during lunchtime and by the time I go home all I want is dinner and then to fall asleep watching telly.

Rinse and repeat.

Weekends are filled with 'exploring the city', going to the supermarket, cooking, cleaning up (must do laundry this weekend!) and suddenly, it's Monday again.

Ahhh the life of a drone!

First time in weeks I have a few minutes and a few thoughts to spare.

Until next time then!

DIY man

The Boy: I'm really proud of the chest of drawers from Argos I DIY-ed! Despite the bag of missing screws! Can I be a stay-at-home bf and do this all day every day?

Me: NO.

It just hit home...

...that I'm moving.

On Friday.

I have a gawdawful dream last night...before falling asleep I was fretting about the photos and cards and stuff still on my walls, and then I dreamed that it was Friday and the van man lugged everything into his van and I was wailing about my photos on the wall and he was dragging me by my arm.

And I am packing ahead of time anyway considering I'm not moving til Friday afternoon...but better early than late, no?

And the waiting is over and the prayers' answered...and I'm so grateful, so so grateful.

One problem over. This time next week I'd have finished my first day at work.

Without even realising it I'm counting down the days til I start work. Eeeeeks!

I think this year living with people has been successful...cos I held my tongue, let things be, and avoided bickering and confrontations. I'm happy I've lived in close proximity with the same people for a year now, and not had a single ugly moment. I think it's a milestone. I'm getting better. I hope! *fingers crossed*

Wishing and praying

This sucks.

I know I'm responsible for myself, and I truly enjoy doing that. But this current crisis sucks. I can't find a flat or a shared house in York. Well, I can, but I can't find what I liked, and have it, too.

I don't like how things are so out of my control. That I'm at the mercy of not just my own, but also another person's limited spending power. That so much rides on whether someone took a shine on us, or not.

I hate the waiting, I can't help how anxious I feel and how angry I get and how worked up I become while I wait. With a mixture of hope and dejection. Of not daring, but still going for it.

Rippling out from the deepest of my soul, the negativity and bad juju not just affects, but consumes me whole and I turn monstrous. I am truly and utterly ashamed of myself, and of my shameful behaviour, reaction and mindset.

Lately, in an introspective phase, I begin to truly wonder if I can be content. That lesson that I never learned. Still have not. I know I'm young, and I choose this path of uncertainty and unpredictables, but oh, the strength needed to sustain good, positive thoughts and keep going on.

I am truly scared of myself. Of how unhappy I am willing to be. How I dwell so much on the bad and dismiss the good. And lately, how easily my thoughts creep to giving up when I don't deserve to, when new and exciting things are happening and big changes abound. It's just that the end results remain the same: no matter which way I see it, I end up back where I started. And these couple of years, I could chalk it up to amazing experience, but I choose to see it as an abrupt end to a long-term project I started and not ready to finish yet. Not by long shot. In short, why am I doing all this when in the end it means nothing?

Now you see what I mean? From a simple issue at hand, my mind dwells and digs up all the issues I face, short and long term, and hook them in my heart, clawing and scratching.

Underwater with no air.

I need to break into the surface pronto, and breath. With no cue. And stay there paddling.

I wish I am able to talk with those near and dear. I feel so alone. And worried. I wish I can share and get a sobbing shoulder, and relieve The Boy of his duties for a while. I am afraid of this: that I'm driving him away. And if there is indeed a Higher Being, and I am of the agnostic stock, then tonight I get on my knees and pray for relief. For the jigsaw to fall into place. For my sanity. For hope. And for belief. I pray.

Nigglings in my heart

I knew it all along...

My mom (and I'm pretty certain my dad, to an extent) is disappointed with my choices in life.

From me studying political science, to my choice in men. And why I choose to stay so far away, and who I choose to make friends with...

And I struggle hard to keep away the nagging voices in my head, to learn to be my own person, and be okay with that.

And the voice of disapproval just never recede.

When will I, if indeed I can, truly break free?

When I'm swimming in money? When I find a man who will give me loads of money and not expect my silence and acquiescence in return? When my friends are in the who's who list and when my career makes me a who's who?

Earghhhhhhhhhhhh!

Dreams vs Reality

A blog entry inspired by Joanna's blog post

It's 3.13am, I don't remember being awake at this hour for the best part of 4 months now, and I was mentally drafting a blog entry.

So I re-fired my laptop, and here it is.

The Boy has been so awesome to me.

He knew (from the umpteenth time I've ranted about it) about my life-long struggles with weight and lack of self-esteem and self-confidence, and my self-image issues. I recognise now that a huge amount of my issues came from my weight, but a lot also came from how my family, peers, society and I dealt with it.

I've lost quite a bit of weight a couple years ago, bla blah bla, but since being in England, lost a lot of my food inhibitions and embraced my inner Martha Stewart. Result: Meat grew on my bones. Again. And I tried to deal with this by alternating between controling what I eat and ignoring it.

My aunt recently commented on my weight gain on a photo on my Facebook. The Boy was sufficiently enraged. I wasn't so reactive, I've resigned to having my size, appearance and perceived weight gain and lost being scrutinised by all and sundry. He left a rather assertive comment below my aunt's comment. I showed my mum the offending photo.

Y'know what she said? "But, you have gone bigger these days!"

That's just how it is, isn't it?

Lately I've been fighting with my inner demons and my unwillingness to go home, or even at all near the society I grew up in. I see newly arrived Malaysian students in my neighbourhood and while I might mosey over for a nose, I'll never identify myself.

Joanna wrote about her (and mum's) dream as an 18 year old, and what to expect. To meet a decent Malaysian guy in uni - one who came from a decent, well-off background, to get married at 24, have kids couple of years later, a high-flying career and the standard-issue house, car, kids and pets.

Although my mum has never overtly put the same pressure on me (and in fact, told me to not settle for just any guy and that I should date a bit), for some reason I've put the pressure onto myself. Not with the guy, necessarily, but career-wise. I haven't been successful. At 24 I've got not much to show, and currently I'm not even employed. A disgrace!

And I could take the easy route and go home. But therein lies the problem. Each day I get 'out here', makes me guiltier for leaving my mum at home with my brother. Because she was ill, and because my brother had to be home and therefore not given the same freedom to go anywhere he'd like to go for days at a time. But yet, the environment is so toxic when I'm home.

I'm reminded almost each day what a failure I am as a daughter, a sister, a friend and a person - how selfish I am, how lazy, how inadequate. I've been driven to the brink many times, and the only reason I'm still here is because of the hope of escaping from it. The last time I was home, the thought of being able to fly away sustained me. I felt so guilty about wanting to leave, I cried on the plane. I asked myself if this is the right thing I'm doing. I'm still asking myself that question.

I think it is, for now. But I've learned demons follow a person. Mine are still haunting me, and through it all, The Boy has been an immense strength and support.

I still don't know how the story will be for the two of us, I wonder if I'm settling. Then again, he may be settling for me, too.

At the back of my mind, my dream man is a City worker, dashing, intelligent, intellectual, rich, well-traveled. Someone I can show off. Someone who can give me loads of dispensable cash. But in reality, The Boy isn't any of that...yet.

He is an artist; a laid-back, funny, down-to-earth, stubborn git. He is cute, endearing and surprisingly sensible and perceptive. He is close to his family, and while intelligent, is not an intellect. And we get on really well. For two people with nothing obvious in common, we're good together.

And I love him for being my strength, and for making me laugh, and for listening to my self-absorbed whinging, and for the person he is.

I don't know if there's any more dreams left in me - perhaps one or two. But reality is cold, and something I have to face, and I'm glad to have him with me on this leg of the rat race.