Sometimes they say waiting is the most painful thing in the world.
Sometimes they say rejection is.
Or maybe forgetting the rejection.
All I know is, I think Coelho didn't know what he was talking about when he said, When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.
I guess you don't deserve unearned desires.
But when I really wanted something, needed it, paid my dues to try to achieve it and felt it fell right through my fingers...
And I don't know where to go from here.
Now, that's pain.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
Just another jot
Sometimes it feels like I have a lot to say, but don't know where to start.
Other times it's lidah kelu...like my brain's filled with vapid nothingless and I struggle to form intelligible thoughts.
Opening my folder full of songs I downloaded since 1998(?) and playing them in the middle of the night have that effect on me - melancholy, loneliness and hopelessness.
But all's okay, I will not wake up tomorrow morning sad. Still...that effect...
How has January came and gone? Perhaps it rated high above as one of the most challenging months for me yet - emotionally and mentally. With the 50-60 job applications I sent and nothing positive back, I have every reason to self-doubt, self-question and let resolution and confidence slip right through the door. In short, I've never felt so, well, rejected, in my life. Still, its just another life lesson: learn to take it astride and get on with it, no?
I woke up this morning with so much doubt and worry on my mind, it took me awhile to plaster on a smile and chase them ugly thoughts away. Everything felt like it's been put on hold, that my state of happiness is fleeting and temporary and hinges on something more tangible. And that tangibility is placed on one thing: Getting a (decent) job so that I can get on with the order of earning some money. But it's also a certain motivation within me to give back what I've learnt and apply it in real-life circumstances and to have it enrich my life, and learn more somehow, this time in practice. I am ready for the next chapter but it feels like there's a stretch yet before I can turn the page.
But, what is it? The economy? The fact that I'm foreign? My lack of experience in the job market here? My (lack of) education? Something I'm not doing right with my CV or covering letters? I don't know, and I wish I do know so that I can start improving, y'know? I'm seized by so many panicky moments that one day soon I'd have to pack and leave, then I'd segue to a strong determination to stay, and then hopelessness from not being able to get a job. I think I've cornered myself and perhaps it's not the right mindframe. There's always agencies though it'll be last-ditch option. There's many options I've not even begun to explore. I just need to remind myself to keep an open mind and eye, to be careful of my spending and to keep, keep positive. I know I am good (or at least not bad) and I just need to open that door, that opportunity to prove I can. It's frustrating but I'll get my day in the sun. Somehow. By hook or by crook.
It's not like I don't have anything to do meanwhile...job applications can take hours at a time. I've just procured the entire Harry Potter book set for under £12 (had a headstart by being given 2 for free) and finishing the 2nd book now, and picked up a Marketing Communications book from Sheffield Hallam library and going through it as well. And there's the foodblog I've started but filled with nary a thing. I'm also reading foodblogs by the bowlful and picking up recipes from Appetite for China and Rasa Malaysia and a bunch of others. There's walks to Heeley City Farm and to town to pick up this and that with Tim. And when all else fail, there's iplayer and 4oD. It's just frustrating that money (or the lack of) severely limits what I can do. But bright side: I'm thoroughly enjoying my Potter books, and surprisingly enjoying the Marketing Comm book too - I didn't realise how much I learnt in my undergrad years were related to Marketing Comm as a whole (though doh, it was a Communications degree) and what we were taught in Advertising also relates to Marketing. I'm happiest when I'm mentally stimulated, the geek that I am. So I feel a lot more fulfilled that I have been for days...Tim is now actively 'correcting' my enunciation (and sometimes pronunciation!) so my English English (as opposed to Malaysian English) is improving, and oh not to mention I have some cleaning up to do before Chinese New Year and there's the pleasant thoughts of what to make for New Year's Eve (braised pork belly and turmeric stir-fried cabbage?), and the thought of hanging my face over a bowl of steaming, creamy and spicy curry laksa from a small-alley Malaysian coffeeshop couple weeks from now in London is making me feel distinctively buoyant.
Perhaps there's a thing or two I could also mention, but I'm ever so slightly superstitious and I don't wanna jinx myself. So cross fingers and wish me good luck please? And I'll tell when there's good news. Promise.
Other times it's lidah kelu...like my brain's filled with vapid nothingless and I struggle to form intelligible thoughts.
Opening my folder full of songs I downloaded since 1998(?) and playing them in the middle of the night have that effect on me - melancholy, loneliness and hopelessness.
But all's okay, I will not wake up tomorrow morning sad. Still...that effect...
How has January came and gone? Perhaps it rated high above as one of the most challenging months for me yet - emotionally and mentally. With the 50-60 job applications I sent and nothing positive back, I have every reason to self-doubt, self-question and let resolution and confidence slip right through the door. In short, I've never felt so, well, rejected, in my life. Still, its just another life lesson: learn to take it astride and get on with it, no?
I woke up this morning with so much doubt and worry on my mind, it took me awhile to plaster on a smile and chase them ugly thoughts away. Everything felt like it's been put on hold, that my state of happiness is fleeting and temporary and hinges on something more tangible. And that tangibility is placed on one thing: Getting a (decent) job so that I can get on with the order of earning some money. But it's also a certain motivation within me to give back what I've learnt and apply it in real-life circumstances and to have it enrich my life, and learn more somehow, this time in practice. I am ready for the next chapter but it feels like there's a stretch yet before I can turn the page.
But, what is it? The economy? The fact that I'm foreign? My lack of experience in the job market here? My (lack of) education? Something I'm not doing right with my CV or covering letters? I don't know, and I wish I do know so that I can start improving, y'know? I'm seized by so many panicky moments that one day soon I'd have to pack and leave, then I'd segue to a strong determination to stay, and then hopelessness from not being able to get a job. I think I've cornered myself and perhaps it's not the right mindframe. There's always agencies though it'll be last-ditch option. There's many options I've not even begun to explore. I just need to remind myself to keep an open mind and eye, to be careful of my spending and to keep, keep positive. I know I am good (or at least not bad) and I just need to open that door, that opportunity to prove I can. It's frustrating but I'll get my day in the sun. Somehow. By hook or by crook.
It's not like I don't have anything to do meanwhile...job applications can take hours at a time. I've just procured the entire Harry Potter book set for under £12 (had a headstart by being given 2 for free) and finishing the 2nd book now, and picked up a Marketing Communications book from Sheffield Hallam library and going through it as well. And there's the foodblog I've started but filled with nary a thing. I'm also reading foodblogs by the bowlful and picking up recipes from Appetite for China and Rasa Malaysia and a bunch of others. There's walks to Heeley City Farm and to town to pick up this and that with Tim. And when all else fail, there's iplayer and 4oD. It's just frustrating that money (or the lack of) severely limits what I can do. But bright side: I'm thoroughly enjoying my Potter books, and surprisingly enjoying the Marketing Comm book too - I didn't realise how much I learnt in my undergrad years were related to Marketing Comm as a whole (though doh, it was a Communications degree) and what we were taught in Advertising also relates to Marketing. I'm happiest when I'm mentally stimulated, the geek that I am. So I feel a lot more fulfilled that I have been for days...Tim is now actively 'correcting' my enunciation (and sometimes pronunciation!) so my English English (as opposed to Malaysian English) is improving, and oh not to mention I have some cleaning up to do before Chinese New Year and there's the pleasant thoughts of what to make for New Year's Eve (braised pork belly and turmeric stir-fried cabbage?), and the thought of hanging my face over a bowl of steaming, creamy and spicy curry laksa from a small-alley Malaysian coffeeshop couple weeks from now in London is making me feel distinctively buoyant.
Perhaps there's a thing or two I could also mention, but I'm ever so slightly superstitious and I don't wanna jinx myself. So cross fingers and wish me good luck please? And I'll tell when there's good news. Promise.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Post on FB wall to someone in the same shoes.
I don't even use a Western type name. It's Puiyee Khong all the way. And it's probably why I have never been called for an interview.
I suspected that long ago, when I tried applying for part time bar/retail work. They never ring.
Well, its not an equal country for sure, I've had people accusing me of wanting to stay here for a myriad of reasons, as if I came from a backward, poor country and needed to claw my way here to survive somehow when in reality I could easily go home or to Singapore and get decent positions, and I would never describe my background as poor or backward. Also, had unsavoury council types accusing us of overstaying and stealing jobs, but hey, I'm not the one on dole and sat on my arse all day yelling about footie on the telly. I just happened to like it here, fell in love with a local boy and decided I could stay for a while and see how things go. Then people seemed to think I nabbed him because I wanted British residency. Can't win at all can I?
Not to say the least of the people who go "nihaooooo" or "ding dong dang" at me ....I feel that racism is so rift here, more so than I've ever encountered from individuals at home (problem in Malaysia is more structural and at political levels, which is also why I rather stay here than go home), and I'm so fed up I can retort "I'm not from China, douchebag" within a split second of someone trying to be funny to me. I feel strangely more Malaysian than ever and refuse to identify too closely to the Chinese students here, but a lonely one because I'm not in the Malaysian circles in Sheffield. It's quite a lonely existence already without battling the voice telling me that this is quite a discriminating country despite what they try to portray. So, grass is not greener on the other side, tough life eh.
I suspected that long ago, when I tried applying for part time bar/retail work. They never ring.
Well, its not an equal country for sure, I've had people accusing me of wanting to stay here for a myriad of reasons, as if I came from a backward, poor country and needed to claw my way here to survive somehow when in reality I could easily go home or to Singapore and get decent positions, and I would never describe my background as poor or backward. Also, had unsavoury council types accusing us of overstaying and stealing jobs, but hey, I'm not the one on dole and sat on my arse all day yelling about footie on the telly. I just happened to like it here, fell in love with a local boy and decided I could stay for a while and see how things go. Then people seemed to think I nabbed him because I wanted British residency. Can't win at all can I?
Not to say the least of the people who go "nihaooooo" or "ding dong dang" at me ....I feel that racism is so rift here, more so than I've ever encountered from individuals at home (problem in Malaysia is more structural and at political levels, which is also why I rather stay here than go home), and I'm so fed up I can retort "I'm not from China, douchebag" within a split second of someone trying to be funny to me. I feel strangely more Malaysian than ever and refuse to identify too closely to the Chinese students here, but a lonely one because I'm not in the Malaysian circles in Sheffield. It's quite a lonely existence already without battling the voice telling me that this is quite a discriminating country despite what they try to portray. So, grass is not greener on the other side, tough life eh.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
New food blog!
No I have not moved.
No I have not quit this blog.
But yes I have a new BLOG!!!
Click to view at I buy, I cook, I eat.
Bit bare at the moment, but it's work in progress, more in coming days!
No I have not quit this blog.
But yes I have a new BLOG!!!
Click to view at I buy, I cook, I eat.
Bit bare at the moment, but it's work in progress, more in coming days!
Sunday, January 10, 2010
I'm an adult
You know when I'm silent on my blog, it meant major major emotional rollercoasters are happening to me and I hardly jot them down (yes, even that 8-month lapse!) because it's just too raw, hurtful and sudden to put into perspective. I've gone from an angst-ridden, must-express-everything teenager to someone older, perhaps slightly ever wiser thoughts-wise, if not action-wise.
The last two months had been so difficult, so so difficult. Suddenly the "I'm right, you're wrong" black-and-white dichotomy is not so clear anymore, everything's fuzzy around the edges. The hurt put onto me one after another left me wailing and in tears, in physical pain more than once, but I gotta rise from that and go on with life. Sometimes I wish I can push a rewind button. So many times I woke up and remembered dreams of reconciliation. Then I remembered why my heart hardened. Then I was reminded painfully I was pushed away, deleted out of existence. So there I stay.
Then life presented me with another challenge...and this time its even closer to heart. I felt manipulated, at my wit's end, angry. I'm not a kid anymore, I'm financially helpless at the moment, but I'm trying pretty hard to find jobs and be independent in all senses. I found myself quiet and deep in thought walking through the snow and holding hands with my boyfriend, in a pantomime, while watching movies, and in general situations. My head's too filled up with too many what-ifs, and too much fear. I've been worried and worried and worried for a while now.
Right now I can't see the big picture. I truly felt like I belonged to no where, to no one. Maybe it's just me being stuck in my own paranoia, but it's like I can no longer go home because I'm unwanted. I want to stay here, but for how long? After 2 years, and then what? I still have to pack and leave. A hand reached out from inside my brain to smack me (this is metaphorically, of course) and told me to think optimistically: Even if I only stayed here for 2 years for work (plus the year of masters), it's still a very enriching 3 years of my young life. And come on, surely I can see how much better that is to nothing at all?
But I am desperate for a paying job, not just because I want financial security, but I am experiencing an alarming need for..homing. I want to own a place of my own! *Alarm alarm alarm* But, but...mortgages! I want a dog! But, but...15-years' responsibility! I want to buy gadgets for my kitchen, and all those nice things to put on my bedroom walls/bathroom appliances/cabinets...oh my God, I want furniture! I told some friends, the day I purchase a piece of furniture gotta be the day I commit myself to something. And funnily I'm not too afraid of that right now. My fear is not to be able to do that.
I guess I really am getting older, and I just really want a nice place to call my own. But how do I get from Point A to Point B? I've been told to practice self-fulfilling prophecy thoughts: If I'm convinced I will get a job, I will and vice versa. And I need something to fill in my time, and Tim suggested I start a food blog or something like that...perhaps I will consider that. Yes. I need a direction in life, but I cannot expect it to appear from nowhere, it's gotta come from me.
So, hey myself, stop being a sap and think about practical things. And be happy. *smack smack smack*
Happy New Year everyone, another year another story.
Ah how time flies.
The last two months had been so difficult, so so difficult. Suddenly the "I'm right, you're wrong" black-and-white dichotomy is not so clear anymore, everything's fuzzy around the edges. The hurt put onto me one after another left me wailing and in tears, in physical pain more than once, but I gotta rise from that and go on with life. Sometimes I wish I can push a rewind button. So many times I woke up and remembered dreams of reconciliation. Then I remembered why my heart hardened. Then I was reminded painfully I was pushed away, deleted out of existence. So there I stay.
Then life presented me with another challenge...and this time its even closer to heart. I felt manipulated, at my wit's end, angry. I'm not a kid anymore, I'm financially helpless at the moment, but I'm trying pretty hard to find jobs and be independent in all senses. I found myself quiet and deep in thought walking through the snow and holding hands with my boyfriend, in a pantomime, while watching movies, and in general situations. My head's too filled up with too many what-ifs, and too much fear. I've been worried and worried and worried for a while now.
Right now I can't see the big picture. I truly felt like I belonged to no where, to no one. Maybe it's just me being stuck in my own paranoia, but it's like I can no longer go home because I'm unwanted. I want to stay here, but for how long? After 2 years, and then what? I still have to pack and leave. A hand reached out from inside my brain to smack me (this is metaphorically, of course) and told me to think optimistically: Even if I only stayed here for 2 years for work (plus the year of masters), it's still a very enriching 3 years of my young life. And come on, surely I can see how much better that is to nothing at all?
But I am desperate for a paying job, not just because I want financial security, but I am experiencing an alarming need for..homing. I want to own a place of my own! *Alarm alarm alarm* But, but...mortgages! I want a dog! But, but...15-years' responsibility! I want to buy gadgets for my kitchen, and all those nice things to put on my bedroom walls/bathroom appliances/cabinets...oh my God, I want furniture! I told some friends, the day I purchase a piece of furniture gotta be the day I commit myself to something. And funnily I'm not too afraid of that right now. My fear is not to be able to do that.
I guess I really am getting older, and I just really want a nice place to call my own. But how do I get from Point A to Point B? I've been told to practice self-fulfilling prophecy thoughts: If I'm convinced I will get a job, I will and vice versa. And I need something to fill in my time, and Tim suggested I start a food blog or something like that...perhaps I will consider that. Yes. I need a direction in life, but I cannot expect it to appear from nowhere, it's gotta come from me.
So, hey myself, stop being a sap and think about practical things. And be happy. *smack smack smack*
Happy New Year everyone, another year another story.
Ah how time flies.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Too late
At what point do you stop talking about anything?
When you don't have much to say, or when your thoughts become so personal, you rather keep it private lest it be read by other people and the outcome is many hurt parties. I learnt from journalism class that there's many sides and many angles to a story, and because this blog is my own, I've ignored journalistic conventions and go with my own side, and my own angle.
But there's the constant worry that one day someone will read what I wrote and get hurt.
Also, I could blame Facebook, its more than sufficient to post status messages, and photos on there, and blogging becomes an effort because you're doing things twice. A person have to draft a blog on her mind, arrange sentences and so on, whatever it takes to write a piece that's publish-worthy. Anyway.
This time, I'd say my silence is from the fear of hurting people, of announcing to the world my every move and action, and the self-absorption that so plagues us Internet-folks who embraced the "me, myself and I-itis" of the Internet.
The last week since I've been back, I've been very conscious of ranting to Tim, sometimes half-angry, half-sad, more than often slightly teary too, about the friendship I mentioned on my last blog. Seemed like the situation is the same, one can say we've reached a stalemate, as worst things happened and no discussing ensued.
Tis so easy to just say "I care, I care", but its the actions that mattered in the end. Things had changed, through her choices and my actions, and this time it felt like it's too late.
It's too late, too much damage done to patch things up. There's a big thorn in my heart. I've always knew when a fight's just a fight and things will be okay in due time, but this time it felt final. Like as if it's a break-up and this really is it. I cannot imagine things going back to how it was, and that it's already too late.
I don't think I care anymore. My love and respect fizzled out. It's really sad, it's really final and brutal, but it's just too late.
When you don't have much to say, or when your thoughts become so personal, you rather keep it private lest it be read by other people and the outcome is many hurt parties. I learnt from journalism class that there's many sides and many angles to a story, and because this blog is my own, I've ignored journalistic conventions and go with my own side, and my own angle.
But there's the constant worry that one day someone will read what I wrote and get hurt.
Also, I could blame Facebook, its more than sufficient to post status messages, and photos on there, and blogging becomes an effort because you're doing things twice. A person have to draft a blog on her mind, arrange sentences and so on, whatever it takes to write a piece that's publish-worthy. Anyway.
This time, I'd say my silence is from the fear of hurting people, of announcing to the world my every move and action, and the self-absorption that so plagues us Internet-folks who embraced the "me, myself and I-itis" of the Internet.
The last week since I've been back, I've been very conscious of ranting to Tim, sometimes half-angry, half-sad, more than often slightly teary too, about the friendship I mentioned on my last blog. Seemed like the situation is the same, one can say we've reached a stalemate, as worst things happened and no discussing ensued.
Tis so easy to just say "I care, I care", but its the actions that mattered in the end. Things had changed, through her choices and my actions, and this time it felt like it's too late.
It's too late, too much damage done to patch things up. There's a big thorn in my heart. I've always knew when a fight's just a fight and things will be okay in due time, but this time it felt final. Like as if it's a break-up and this really is it. I cannot imagine things going back to how it was, and that it's already too late.
I don't think I care anymore. My love and respect fizzled out. It's really sad, it's really final and brutal, but it's just too late.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Tis a crazy life
My mom had a stroke last Monday. My security blanket, the conviction that things are okay, and will stay okay, was pulled out under me. To say I fell hard on my bum and dazed...is an understatement.
Staying with her over three days, tending to her and basically be her buddy led me to think a lot of things. Of how it's not time yet. She's barely into her fifties. I'm only a third of my way through my twenties. I still want and need my mommy. I still want to be babied, to be a child, to be my mommy's girl. Thinking of her less than healthy made me run into the corridor to collect myself. I do not want to cry in front of her. Watching her cry broke my heart. I'd do anything to change reality. To make her alright. To make us alright.
Maybe I've not accepted the reality yet. She's not too bad, just weakness on one side, and needs a bit of help up and down the stairs. You have no idea how painful it feels to watch your mother eat, and listen to her say that swallowing is an effort. For a woman who loves her food...and for a woman who loves to gab, talking is an effort, too. I looked at my own left arm and leg, and wondered how it would be like to be tired of lifting them up after a few seconds. I felt a need to protect her so strong, and yet so helpless in face of fact. Suddenly I found myself being the one doctors talk to, nurses refer to, and mom and bro depend on for a daily routine. The responsibility felt so massive, and so sudden.
I hope my mom recovers soon, and back to her fierce, prideful self, in tip top condition and all.
In face of all this, with all these newfound responsibilities, anxieties and stress, I learnt there's only myself to depend on. Never did I think of relying on anyone else, but I let my guard down just this once, because I'm so tired, and I am so disappointed and betrayed. In playing good daughter, I also have to play good best friend. I have to understand so many people, so many angles. Empty promises made. Words tumble easily from mouths, but. But. What's the value of friendship? Nothing. Easily bartered away in knowing we'll always be understanding. That there will be time to make up. That I'm supposed to understand.
I understand. I'm not the one who's going to make my best friend happy forever.
I'm not the main star in a best friend's life.
In the scheme of things, what am I?
I dread to weigh the truth.
All I know is, tis just another empty promise, and I'm betrayed and disappointed. I expected too much, that is my mistake.
I would have understood even better had things been handled differently. Had no promises were made.
But such is life.
Move on, Puiyee. Sudah lah, lumrah hidup.
Staying with her over three days, tending to her and basically be her buddy led me to think a lot of things. Of how it's not time yet. She's barely into her fifties. I'm only a third of my way through my twenties. I still want and need my mommy. I still want to be babied, to be a child, to be my mommy's girl. Thinking of her less than healthy made me run into the corridor to collect myself. I do not want to cry in front of her. Watching her cry broke my heart. I'd do anything to change reality. To make her alright. To make us alright.
Maybe I've not accepted the reality yet. She's not too bad, just weakness on one side, and needs a bit of help up and down the stairs. You have no idea how painful it feels to watch your mother eat, and listen to her say that swallowing is an effort. For a woman who loves her food...and for a woman who loves to gab, talking is an effort, too. I looked at my own left arm and leg, and wondered how it would be like to be tired of lifting them up after a few seconds. I felt a need to protect her so strong, and yet so helpless in face of fact. Suddenly I found myself being the one doctors talk to, nurses refer to, and mom and bro depend on for a daily routine. The responsibility felt so massive, and so sudden.
I hope my mom recovers soon, and back to her fierce, prideful self, in tip top condition and all.
In face of all this, with all these newfound responsibilities, anxieties and stress, I learnt there's only myself to depend on. Never did I think of relying on anyone else, but I let my guard down just this once, because I'm so tired, and I am so disappointed and betrayed. In playing good daughter, I also have to play good best friend. I have to understand so many people, so many angles. Empty promises made. Words tumble easily from mouths, but. But. What's the value of friendship? Nothing. Easily bartered away in knowing we'll always be understanding. That there will be time to make up. That I'm supposed to understand.
I understand. I'm not the one who's going to make my best friend happy forever.
I'm not the main star in a best friend's life.
In the scheme of things, what am I?
I dread to weigh the truth.
All I know is, tis just another empty promise, and I'm betrayed and disappointed. I expected too much, that is my mistake.
I would have understood even better had things been handled differently. Had no promises were made.
But such is life.
Move on, Puiyee. Sudah lah, lumrah hidup.
Friday, October 09, 2009
A prose for you
I don't know if I believe in the extravagant show of love. In the four months we've been going out, there were small exchanges of gifts, eating out, buying things...sharing and pooling money and belongings. I've never done any huge-effort-out-of-my-way thing for him (wrote him a poem, a song, - though maybe a prose counted? - went way beyond myself to make/get him something, etc), though I couldn't say the same about him. I know he's been so generous and so thoughtful to me.
I've yet to receive my first flower, though. *hint*
He couldn't afford to come to Malaysia with me, but he came to London with me, and we spent a few wonderful days together.
So, I believe that its not the 'showing' that matters, but the real thoughtfulness, the 'heart' and the effort the other person puts in without being asked to. And if a person meant it, you'll know. I've had no reasons for doubt and insecurity - I trust him. And he's never let me down. There's always regular contact. I usually know where he is, what he's doing, and how he's doing. And for that, I am gratefully reassured.
I know in that sense, I am blissfully happy. It's only been over a week that we're apart, and I have him on my mind a lot. Sometimes I end up grinning like a mental person in the middle of a public space. I compensated by shopping and buying things for him. I wondered if he'll eat durian. I thought of him when I'm eating some yummy food and wished he could try it too. I wanted to hold his hand and show him off - that's him, that my man. Sometimes those three words are right on my lips. I guess we're both playing the waiting game.
When we first went out, my heart was full of doubts. Someone told me that by the end of this year, if I didn't feel like I have fallen for him, I should walk away. I think I'm here to stay.
And I hope he knows this.
I've yet to receive my first flower, though. *hint*
He couldn't afford to come to Malaysia with me, but he came to London with me, and we spent a few wonderful days together.
So, I believe that its not the 'showing' that matters, but the real thoughtfulness, the 'heart' and the effort the other person puts in without being asked to. And if a person meant it, you'll know. I've had no reasons for doubt and insecurity - I trust him. And he's never let me down. There's always regular contact. I usually know where he is, what he's doing, and how he's doing. And for that, I am gratefully reassured.
I know in that sense, I am blissfully happy. It's only been over a week that we're apart, and I have him on my mind a lot. Sometimes I end up grinning like a mental person in the middle of a public space. I compensated by shopping and buying things for him. I wondered if he'll eat durian. I thought of him when I'm eating some yummy food and wished he could try it too. I wanted to hold his hand and show him off - that's him, that my man. Sometimes those three words are right on my lips. I guess we're both playing the waiting game.
When we first went out, my heart was full of doubts. Someone told me that by the end of this year, if I didn't feel like I have fallen for him, I should walk away. I think I'm here to stay.
And I hope he knows this.
Sunday, October 04, 2009
I am...
...feeling slightly neglected.
Life here felt exactly like I've wrapped it up and put it away, only to come back and unpack it...to find that people have moved on and are too busy for me.
I feel like I wanna fly back now.
:(
Life here felt exactly like I've wrapped it up and put it away, only to come back and unpack it...to find that people have moved on and are too busy for me.
I feel like I wanna fly back now.
:(
Thursday, October 01, 2009
Homeward bound
Its 8pm now, and I've been on the go since 7am this morning. I'm airborne somewhere in the Middle East, dinner is about to be 'served', and another 7 hours before I land.
I fervently hope the boy is now safe and sound back in Sheffield (at least Meadowhall Interchange, as his bus is due to arrive at 8pm). We've spent three nights in London, and it was an amazing time - eating Malaysian food in Chinatown, going to the British Museum and dropping our jaws at mummies, watching the sun set on Tower Bridge, watching Phantom of the Opera on the absolute worst seats in the entire theatre. It was good.
And I can not be grateful enough, or affectionate enough towards the Boy at the moment. I wonder how and why, through all my ill-spirits and unkindness, that I deserve such a good-natured, humourous, thoughtful and lovely person. And I feel awfully bad that he's probably waited at the Victoria Coach Station for hours, bored, tired, sleepy and grumpy, for his bus that's not even due until I've
landed in Bahrain.
He is awesome. And 4 weeks til I see him again.
Now: Bahrain.
I've found the wettest toilets ever. Bahrain Airport female loo was invaded by women of I don't know where (I'd hazard a guess of somewhere in South Asia) with cloth covering their heads loosely, and them washing their faces and feet in the same toilet sink. It wasn't just wet, it was flooded. I forgot how disgusting wet toilets are. And I've forgotten how humid and warm night airs can be.
This is just a teaser of what is about to greet me when I step off the plane in KL. Hmm.
I've also met two Chinese Malaysians at the boarding gate: both works in Ridyadh as nurses. One immediately told me she's earning RM15 000 per month. Telling me maybe all those repression in the Middle East is a good thing, that the UK and the US is too free. The other seemed more wise, telling me it's not the money that mattered, even though many nurses came and went in Saudi Arabia because they could not tolerate the culture or society, they'd learn something and bring it away with them. Even a year out there would be good for anyone. I couldn't agree more though I've spent a year in one of the freer societies in the world and I doubt I can go to somewhere like the Middle East and ...fit in. I already feel slightly ill at ease, needing to put up pretenses and self-censor, something we all learn to do well; whispered, hushed conversations instead of open, frank discussions. If only the first nurse found out my boyfriend is an English lad and I've embraced the 'irresponsible' life...
Oh. I don't know, this homecoming is such a confusion for me. I wonder what the next four weeks will entail. We shall see.
Meanwhile, I've loved and hated London. The crowds. The impatience. The pushiness. The hecticness. The rush. The beauty despite its perpetual sounds and smells.
Thank you, Tim.
I fervently hope the boy is now safe and sound back in Sheffield (at least Meadowhall Interchange, as his bus is due to arrive at 8pm). We've spent three nights in London, and it was an amazing time - eating Malaysian food in Chinatown, going to the British Museum and dropping our jaws at mummies, watching the sun set on Tower Bridge, watching Phantom of the Opera on the absolute worst seats in the entire theatre. It was good.
And I can not be grateful enough, or affectionate enough towards the Boy at the moment. I wonder how and why, through all my ill-spirits and unkindness, that I deserve such a good-natured, humourous, thoughtful and lovely person. And I feel awfully bad that he's probably waited at the Victoria Coach Station for hours, bored, tired, sleepy and grumpy, for his bus that's not even due until I've
landed in Bahrain.
He is awesome. And 4 weeks til I see him again.
Now: Bahrain.
I've found the wettest toilets ever. Bahrain Airport female loo was invaded by women of I don't know where (I'd hazard a guess of somewhere in South Asia) with cloth covering their heads loosely, and them washing their faces and feet in the same toilet sink. It wasn't just wet, it was flooded. I forgot how disgusting wet toilets are. And I've forgotten how humid and warm night airs can be.
This is just a teaser of what is about to greet me when I step off the plane in KL. Hmm.
I've also met two Chinese Malaysians at the boarding gate: both works in Ridyadh as nurses. One immediately told me she's earning RM15 000 per month. Telling me maybe all those repression in the Middle East is a good thing, that the UK and the US is too free. The other seemed more wise, telling me it's not the money that mattered, even though many nurses came and went in Saudi Arabia because they could not tolerate the culture or society, they'd learn something and bring it away with them. Even a year out there would be good for anyone. I couldn't agree more though I've spent a year in one of the freer societies in the world and I doubt I can go to somewhere like the Middle East and ...fit in. I already feel slightly ill at ease, needing to put up pretenses and self-censor, something we all learn to do well; whispered, hushed conversations instead of open, frank discussions. If only the first nurse found out my boyfriend is an English lad and I've embraced the 'irresponsible' life...
Oh. I don't know, this homecoming is such a confusion for me. I wonder what the next four weeks will entail. We shall see.
Meanwhile, I've loved and hated London. The crowds. The impatience. The pushiness. The hecticness. The rush. The beauty despite its perpetual sounds and smells.
Thank you, Tim.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
All done...
...with dissertation.
Finally. The final piece of work I'll hand in for academic purposes. I think I'm done being a student...for a while anyway. Unless....I don't have to write dissertations. Come to think of it, maybe I'd like going back to Primary 1 and start all over again. At least I know what I'm doing second time around. I'd do food science. Or cook.
But I'm just blabbering. This will not be a very coherent or even eloquent post; I'm just too frankly tired.
I promised myself to finish dissertation last Friday evening but I ended up going to the library at midnight on Saturday and printed my dissertation at 3.30am. After an hour or two of iplayer after that, I was dead to the world....except at 7am we woke up for a carboot sale. I got a nice denim jacket out of it for two quid. And a grater for 20p. And Tim's got a mini fridge for £2.50. And we had nice steak sandwiches. And we went to bed again til 2pm. And then I got up to...pack. We left for Tim's parents' house at 7.10pm...and made and ate lasagne at 12am.
I got him up at 10am to head into town to get my dissertation bound, had some sandwiches, window-shopped, then I collected my dissertation, ran to the department to submit it, and went home to...pack. Finished packing finally and then I collapsed into bed again and waking up at 9am on Tuesday because the van guy's coming at 11am. Took only half an hour to take all my worldly possessions in UK across town, and I'm now living out of boxes for the week before I head down to London and then home, and after a bit of unpacking, went to the department to chat with international students and then headed to Meadowhall for Yo! Sushi (we have a 40% discount voucher!!!) and I went all out. We walked around just a little bit...but I was tired, and my feet were so sore, and my brain was so numb.
By the time Tim and I made it back to my new place and after watching Mathilda with my new housemates, I was so exhausted I fell asleep mid-kissing.
And Wednesday we walked back into town to the train station so that I can get a new railway card and collect my deposit for the Boomerang and get new keys cut. And when I go to donate blood, the nurse asked if I've been stressed lately....boy. Does she know.
That's it. And now I'm idle and got nothing to do in a strange new house and a new status. I've got a splitting headache. I will call my boyfriend, then head for a shower, then watch iplayer til I fall asleep.
Finally. The final piece of work I'll hand in for academic purposes. I think I'm done being a student...for a while anyway. Unless....I don't have to write dissertations. Come to think of it, maybe I'd like going back to Primary 1 and start all over again. At least I know what I'm doing second time around. I'd do food science. Or cook.
But I'm just blabbering. This will not be a very coherent or even eloquent post; I'm just too frankly tired.
I promised myself to finish dissertation last Friday evening but I ended up going to the library at midnight on Saturday and printed my dissertation at 3.30am. After an hour or two of iplayer after that, I was dead to the world....except at 7am we woke up for a carboot sale. I got a nice denim jacket out of it for two quid. And a grater for 20p. And Tim's got a mini fridge for £2.50. And we had nice steak sandwiches. And we went to bed again til 2pm. And then I got up to...pack. We left for Tim's parents' house at 7.10pm...and made and ate lasagne at 12am.
I got him up at 10am to head into town to get my dissertation bound, had some sandwiches, window-shopped, then I collected my dissertation, ran to the department to submit it, and went home to...pack. Finished packing finally and then I collapsed into bed again and waking up at 9am on Tuesday because the van guy's coming at 11am. Took only half an hour to take all my worldly possessions in UK across town, and I'm now living out of boxes for the week before I head down to London and then home, and after a bit of unpacking, went to the department to chat with international students and then headed to Meadowhall for Yo! Sushi (we have a 40% discount voucher!!!) and I went all out. We walked around just a little bit...but I was tired, and my feet were so sore, and my brain was so numb.
By the time Tim and I made it back to my new place and after watching Mathilda with my new housemates, I was so exhausted I fell asleep mid-kissing.
And Wednesday we walked back into town to the train station so that I can get a new railway card and collect my deposit for the Boomerang and get new keys cut. And when I go to donate blood, the nurse asked if I've been stressed lately....boy. Does she know.
That's it. And now I'm idle and got nothing to do in a strange new house and a new status. I've got a splitting headache. I will call my boyfriend, then head for a shower, then watch iplayer til I fall asleep.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
My Chinese name
To be quite honest, I've never really checked what my given names meant, and only idly wondered a few times when I have been asked.
So...
许 xǔ
English Definition:
1.to allow
2.to promise
3.to praise
4.perhaps
佩 pèi
English Definition:
1.to wear
2.admiration
3.jade pendants
怡 yÃ
English Definition:
1.happy; cheerful; joyful
2.harmony
Source: http://www.ourchinese.org/
What does it translate to then?
"To promise admirable joy" ??
"A promise of joy" ?
(Since I'm *wearing* it and all that)
*tah hah hah hah hah*
Okay well, not quite.
I like the whole "wearing" and "owning" being joyous. And peaceful.
Its a good name, I now know.
Me mommy and daddy wants me to be happy.
Awwwww.
So...
许 xǔ
English Definition:
1.to allow
2.to promise
3.to praise
4.perhaps
佩 pèi
English Definition:
1.to wear
2.admiration
3.jade pendants
怡 yÃ
English Definition:
1.happy; cheerful; joyful
2.harmony
Source: http://www.ourchinese.org/
What does it translate to then?
"To promise admirable joy" ??
"A promise of joy" ?
(Since I'm *wearing* it and all that)
*tah hah hah hah hah*
Okay well, not quite.
I like the whole "wearing" and "owning" being joyous. And peaceful.
Its a good name, I now know.
Me mommy and daddy wants me to be happy.
Awwwww.
Friday, September 04, 2009
Of time and timing
I've just recently watched A Series of Unfortunate Events, and not really being aware that the antagonist is played by Jim Carrey, I almost smacked the laptop, broke the DVD and poke a few needles into his imaginary voodoo doll. I don't like Jim Carrey, in case you did not get the gist already.
My arms are so sore. My legs are sore. My brain is numb. I just want to sleep and read some vapid chick lit, sip tea and sleep some more. I just moved this morning. Did the bulk of moving my belongings last evening, and then four hours unpacking, before I realise the contract ends 19th and I'm only staying there for three weeks, if I extend for a week. If that. My laptop broke down. Well, the inverter did. To put it in a nutshell, everything works as per normal, except the screen is dim. I can see faintly that there's things on the screen, just that the light isn't there. It will cost me £70 to fix it. And I don't even know how long it will take. I miss my laptop already. On top of that Tim's laptop was hard hit by an amusing virus (at least I secretly think so). It gave him a blue wallpaper with a few paragraphs on it with misspellings and bad grammar saying things like "Your're computer is infected. For your family, your children, your friends, please get antivirus". What's not amusing is that he'll have to reformat. At least he's got his data backed up with some pendrives last night. Speak of a series of unfortunate events now. Two computer nerds computer-less for a few days. How are we supposed to function?!
I've also just gotten an extension for my dissertation. I can technically hand it in on 28th September now. Which I hesitate to do. Ideally I still want to finish by 14th, or maybe around that time, because I want to relax and do my thing. This shackles called Dissertation is sucking the joy out of my soul.
Last night, after unpacking, Tim and I walked home from Boomerang to Central Quay for one last time. We had one last walk by the river. The three white (edible) ducks that never failed to sleep at the same spot weren't there. Perhaps it was too cold. Too windy. Too wet. But I felt the pain of lost so acutely. I've stayed there for almost an entire year, and what a year it has been. I've enjoyed my own ensuite, and cabinet-hogging in the kitchen, and a lot of privacy. I've even enjoyed staying in 2 flats that wasn't filled to capacity.
Boomerang is almost entirely opposite. There's 6 of us in a small flat. The walls are thin and noises carry. I can hear people peeing and flushing the toilet that's next to my room. I'm staying with 5 people I know. There's not much space in the kitchen for me to hog. And I sleep on a single bed. I guess it's really not bad at all because I'm now 5 minutes away from the library, but its just a lot of change to cope with at the moment.
Moving was also stressful - I came to this country with three bags, and over a year I've accumulated so much things that I'm ashamed of myself. In my defense, a lot of them are castaways that I scavanged. That's the joy of living in student accomodation - in a corner reserved for unwanted items, I've picked up duvet sheets, blankets and throws, boxes, bags of clothes and stuff, crockery, utensils and things of all sorts. I've also been to car boot sales and picked up pasta jars, photo frames, clothes...
I wonder when and if I do go home for good, what am I going to do with them things.
So anyway, the year I had in Central Quay - it was good, but nature states that nothing stays static forever. I cannot stop the sands of time slipping through my fingers, the only thing I could do and will do is to cherish and treasure the memories. And the memories of walking in flip-flops in winter to Castlemarket, catching the 52 bus, the walks along the river, the sounds and atmosphere of the pub downstairs...I'm grateful for the experience.
My arms are so sore. My legs are sore. My brain is numb. I just want to sleep and read some vapid chick lit, sip tea and sleep some more. I just moved this morning. Did the bulk of moving my belongings last evening, and then four hours unpacking, before I realise the contract ends 19th and I'm only staying there for three weeks, if I extend for a week. If that. My laptop broke down. Well, the inverter did. To put it in a nutshell, everything works as per normal, except the screen is dim. I can see faintly that there's things on the screen, just that the light isn't there. It will cost me £70 to fix it. And I don't even know how long it will take. I miss my laptop already. On top of that Tim's laptop was hard hit by an amusing virus (at least I secretly think so). It gave him a blue wallpaper with a few paragraphs on it with misspellings and bad grammar saying things like "Your're computer is infected. For your family, your children, your friends, please get antivirus". What's not amusing is that he'll have to reformat. At least he's got his data backed up with some pendrives last night. Speak of a series of unfortunate events now. Two computer nerds computer-less for a few days. How are we supposed to function?!
I've also just gotten an extension for my dissertation. I can technically hand it in on 28th September now. Which I hesitate to do. Ideally I still want to finish by 14th, or maybe around that time, because I want to relax and do my thing. This shackles called Dissertation is sucking the joy out of my soul.
Last night, after unpacking, Tim and I walked home from Boomerang to Central Quay for one last time. We had one last walk by the river. The three white (edible) ducks that never failed to sleep at the same spot weren't there. Perhaps it was too cold. Too windy. Too wet. But I felt the pain of lost so acutely. I've stayed there for almost an entire year, and what a year it has been. I've enjoyed my own ensuite, and cabinet-hogging in the kitchen, and a lot of privacy. I've even enjoyed staying in 2 flats that wasn't filled to capacity.
Boomerang is almost entirely opposite. There's 6 of us in a small flat. The walls are thin and noises carry. I can hear people peeing and flushing the toilet that's next to my room. I'm staying with 5 people I know. There's not much space in the kitchen for me to hog. And I sleep on a single bed. I guess it's really not bad at all because I'm now 5 minutes away from the library, but its just a lot of change to cope with at the moment.
Moving was also stressful - I came to this country with three bags, and over a year I've accumulated so much things that I'm ashamed of myself. In my defense, a lot of them are castaways that I scavanged. That's the joy of living in student accomodation - in a corner reserved for unwanted items, I've picked up duvet sheets, blankets and throws, boxes, bags of clothes and stuff, crockery, utensils and things of all sorts. I've also been to car boot sales and picked up pasta jars, photo frames, clothes...
I wonder when and if I do go home for good, what am I going to do with them things.
So anyway, the year I had in Central Quay - it was good, but nature states that nothing stays static forever. I cannot stop the sands of time slipping through my fingers, the only thing I could do and will do is to cherish and treasure the memories. And the memories of walking in flip-flops in winter to Castlemarket, catching the 52 bus, the walks along the river, the sounds and atmosphere of the pub downstairs...I'm grateful for the experience.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Moo for Malaysia.
First off, I really kesian this cow.
Disclaimer: Apologies for the squirmish ones, don't scroll down!
Opps, sorry, too late
I hope that cow was slaughtered for food, and not for the sole purpose of being marched up somewhere, displayed and insulted, spat and stomp on. And surely not in the holy month of Ramadan.
Here's the story:
And my two cents:
Really really makes me don't want to be Malaysian anymore. Nak pergi main jauh-jauh already. Why fight it lah when they tell us everyday we're not "real" Malaysians? Its been one year plus (since last election) of rejection and dejection lor.
Apa 1Malaysia. Look at what people do to tell you forcefully there is no 1Malaysia. How to go on living as citizen, born and raised in a country you have to bow and kowtow to people and prove all the time you are loyal, super-tolerant and have blind faith that one day it will be ok? How many still want to fight the tide, when the rest thinking "suan le, let's just earn money and live nondescriptly". more
Wanna go to Singapore and be like Xiaxue already. At least I already got the ang moh bf part...now I need to mental myself to stop thinking I'm Malaysian. And enough money for blow...sorry, nosejob, and a lot a lot of clothes and make up, Photoshop skill and a semi-celebrity status.
But aior...tak boleh weh. :( Saya suka nasi lemak too much.
:(
Ok. Official: I confess I've been reading Xiaxue's blog the entire evening, and this afternoon. And in some ways, I'm slightly envious.
She's blonde, she Photoshops herself, she had a nosejob and she owns a Princess Room painted in pink. She's probably got 10x what I have in my wardrobe (and spends about as much), she blings her phone, camera and laptop in pink diamantes. My point is, frivolousness aside, I want a bit of her life.
Her blogs are light-hearted and funny, and Joanna writes in the same way: controversial, snarky, bitchy...in other words, I like. I cannot hide it anymore. Beneath all these seriousness, there's a deeply embedded blonde in me. Its screaming a bit lately to be let out.
Along with that, I don't know what kind of instinct is this that's kicking in (not the maternal one, thank God), but I want my own flat/house, cute dog(s), and an awesome kitchen with the works. I want to cook and decorate, and fill up my home with the necessities: TV, furniture, candles, hangings...you get the picture. Homing instincts?
Problem is, I see me doing it here in England. Or in Singapore. I'm used to having an oven. I like having easy access to cheap pasta and pasatta. I've gotten less and less stubborn about being Malaysian, and being out here made it easier to go incognito, and less loyal.
Have I sold out?!
o_O"
Oh dear.
Tulan leh
But one thing lah:
I declare from now onwards I'll write a bit more Malaysian-style (what to do, who ask me to be born a Malaysian? Blame the stork for dropping me off in KL), and I'll try to be more light-hearted. This way, I have more entertaining things to write about, right?
And when my dissertation finishes (ha, I say it like as though it will write itself), I will blog more and give more time here.
And to kick-off my new resolution, I am going to (er...what's that word again...er) gush (GUSH!) over my ABC soup.
Few nights ago, I bought a £5.42 whole chicken (minus head) and chopped it roughly the way mummy taught me, and made a chicken curry out of it.
While I was assaulting and deskinning that poor chicken, the boy surfed onto his Facebook and wrote this:
Tim Jones is watching his girlfriend full on knife assault a chicken then tear it apart with her bare hands. She's a very special lady :)
Cute la that boy. So I was left with the carcass and neck, and a bit more bones from chicken thighs in the freezer. So last night, at roughly 4.50am when dawn was breaking, I envisaged beautiful ABC soup.
But wait. Got potato, got carrot. No onion leh! How?
Its ok. Nick one of Mr Fish's.
FYI Mr Fish lives in Room D, and is a pretty good looking ang moh. After a bit of stalking on FB, found him on Leeds network. Draw your own conclusions lah. But he has the weirdest diet ever. Every morning he dices onion, carrots and celery, saute them in extra virgin olive oil, salt and pepper, and boils brown rice/whole wheat pasta/mullet grain, and mix all of that with two cans of Tesco sardine/mackerel in brine. Then he leaves fish and leftovers in the sink for everyone else to pick up, and expects the hobs to clean itself automatically. He also doesn't know the concept of "emptying the trash".
So with my ABC soup floatng in mind, I try to sleep. Try, try, try.
Cannot.
6am already. Very light outside.
Pop one Paracetemol.
5...10...minutes later...*drools and snores*
God-sent.
So with chicken bones, carrots, potato and stolen-onion, and some salt, pepper and 2 tablespoons of Shao Hsing wine, I have my ABC soup. Oh my. I forgot how hearty and good soups like this taste, just like the way my mom made it in the slow cooker (ok, the wine was my idea, and I have no slow cooker).
I am satisfied.
Until I saw that cow up there.
I shall abstain from cow for some time now.
Ok, back to dissertation!
Disclaimer: Apologies for the squirmish ones, don't scroll down!
Opps, sorry, too late
I hope that cow was slaughtered for food, and not for the sole purpose of being marched up somewhere, displayed and insulted, spat and stomp on. And surely not in the holy month of Ramadan.
Here's the story:
By Shazwan Mustafa Kamal, Malaysian Insider
SHAH ALAM, Aug 28 — A group of Malay-Muslim protesters claiming to be residents of Section 23 have threatened bloodshed unless the state government stopped the construction of a Hindu Temple.
Amid chants of "Allahuakbar," the group also left the severed head of a cow at the entrance of the State Secretariat here as a warning to Selangor Mentri Besar Tan Sri Khalid Ibrahim.
The "residents" said that the construction of a Hindu temple in a 90 per cent Malay- Muslim neighbourhood was insensitive because activities there would disrupt their lives.
They claimed that the "noise" from the temple would disturb their own praying, and that they would not be able to function properly as Muslims.
The group of 50 over protestors marched shortly after Friday prayers from the Shah Alam State mosque to the State Secretariat.
“I challenge YB Khalid, YB Rodziah and Xavier Jeyakumar to go on with the temple construction. I guarantee bloodshed and racial tension will happen if this goes on, and the state will be held responsible,” shouted Ibrahim Haji Sabri amid strong chants of “Allahu Akbar!”
Ibrahim identified himself as the Deputy Chairman of the Resident’s Committee against the building of the temple in S23 here, which is perceived by some as being a Muslim majority area.
He told the press that the state should move the temple to Section 22 as ‘originally planned’, and also labelled Khalid a “traitor to the Malay race and Islam”.
It is understood that the protest is an immediate reaction towards the Selangor MB’s visit to the Hindu temple site yesterday, an act seen by the "residents" as disrespectful to the Muslims of the community.
Mohd. Zurit Bin Ramli, who claims to be the secretary of the "Coalition of Malaysian NGOs" echoed Ibrahim’s stand on the matter, saying that it was irresponsible on the part of the state government to approve the construction as there was apparently a “90 per cent” majority Muslim population in Section 23.
“With a temple on our residential area, we cannot function properly as Muslims. The temple will disrupt our daily activities like prayers in the Surau. We cannot concentrate with the sounds coming from the temple,” stated Zurit.
When asked whether members of the protest were affiliated with any organisations or movements, Ibrahim claimed that the people present today were members of PAS, PKR as well as Umno who are “united in the name of Islam and the Malay spirit.”
The state government was also accused of lying to the people of Selangor.
The Chairman of the Residents Committee, Mahyuddin Manaf excitedly proclaimed that the committee would uncover “the lies” and find proof of the state’s misconduct.
“Khalid Ibrahim wears a mask of a Muslim, but in truth he is a liberal. PAS stands to lose out as a result. I voted for PAS as well as Khalid in the past elections,” Mahyuddin claimed.
The issue first cropped up when the Selangor government proposed that the Sri Mariamman temple be relocated from Section 19 to Section 23.
And my two cents:
Really really makes me don't want to be Malaysian anymore. Nak pergi main jauh-jauh already. Why fight it lah when they tell us everyday we're not "real" Malaysians? Its been one year plus (since last election) of rejection and dejection lor.
Apa 1Malaysia. Look at what people do to tell you forcefully there is no 1Malaysia. How to go on living as citizen, born and raised in a country you have to bow and kowtow to people and prove all the time you are loyal, super-tolerant and have blind faith that one day it will be ok? How many still want to fight the tide, when the rest thinking "suan le, let's just earn money and live nondescriptly". more
Wanna go to Singapore and be like Xiaxue already. At least I already got the ang moh bf part...now I need to mental myself to stop thinking I'm Malaysian. And enough money for blow...sorry, nosejob, and a lot a lot of clothes and make up, Photoshop skill and a semi-celebrity status.
But aior...tak boleh weh. :( Saya suka nasi lemak too much.
:(
Ok. Official: I confess I've been reading Xiaxue's blog the entire evening, and this afternoon. And in some ways, I'm slightly envious.
She's blonde, she Photoshops herself, she had a nosejob and she owns a Princess Room painted in pink. She's probably got 10x what I have in my wardrobe (and spends about as much), she blings her phone, camera and laptop in pink diamantes. My point is, frivolousness aside, I want a bit of her life.
Her blogs are light-hearted and funny, and Joanna writes in the same way: controversial, snarky, bitchy...in other words, I like. I cannot hide it anymore. Beneath all these seriousness, there's a deeply embedded blonde in me. Its screaming a bit lately to be let out.
Along with that, I don't know what kind of instinct is this that's kicking in (not the maternal one, thank God), but I want my own flat/house, cute dog(s), and an awesome kitchen with the works. I want to cook and decorate, and fill up my home with the necessities: TV, furniture, candles, hangings...you get the picture. Homing instincts?
Problem is, I see me doing it here in England. Or in Singapore. I'm used to having an oven. I like having easy access to cheap pasta and pasatta. I've gotten less and less stubborn about being Malaysian, and being out here made it easier to go incognito, and less loyal.
Have I sold out?!
o_O"
Oh dear.
Tulan leh
But one thing lah:
I declare from now onwards I'll write a bit more Malaysian-style (what to do, who ask me to be born a Malaysian? Blame the stork for dropping me off in KL), and I'll try to be more light-hearted. This way, I have more entertaining things to write about, right?
And when my dissertation finishes (ha, I say it like as though it will write itself), I will blog more and give more time here.
And to kick-off my new resolution, I am going to (er...what's that word again...er) gush (GUSH!) over my ABC soup.
Few nights ago, I bought a £5.42 whole chicken (minus head) and chopped it roughly the way mummy taught me, and made a chicken curry out of it.
While I was assaulting and deskinning that poor chicken, the boy surfed onto his Facebook and wrote this:
Tim Jones is watching his girlfriend full on knife assault a chicken then tear it apart with her bare hands. She's a very special lady :)
Cute la that boy. So I was left with the carcass and neck, and a bit more bones from chicken thighs in the freezer. So last night, at roughly 4.50am when dawn was breaking, I envisaged beautiful ABC soup.
But wait. Got potato, got carrot. No onion leh! How?
Its ok. Nick one of Mr Fish's.
FYI Mr Fish lives in Room D, and is a pretty good looking ang moh. After a bit of stalking on FB, found him on Leeds network. Draw your own conclusions lah. But he has the weirdest diet ever. Every morning he dices onion, carrots and celery, saute them in extra virgin olive oil, salt and pepper, and boils brown rice/whole wheat pasta/mullet grain, and mix all of that with two cans of Tesco sardine/mackerel in brine. Then he leaves fish and leftovers in the sink for everyone else to pick up, and expects the hobs to clean itself automatically. He also doesn't know the concept of "emptying the trash".
So with my ABC soup floatng in mind, I try to sleep. Try, try, try.
Cannot.
6am already. Very light outside.
Pop one Paracetemol.
5...10...minutes later...*drools and snores*
God-sent.
So with chicken bones, carrots, potato and stolen-onion, and some salt, pepper and 2 tablespoons of Shao Hsing wine, I have my ABC soup. Oh my. I forgot how hearty and good soups like this taste, just like the way my mom made it in the slow cooker (ok, the wine was my idea, and I have no slow cooker).
I am satisfied.
Until I saw that cow up there.
I shall abstain from cow for some time now.
Ok, back to dissertation!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Personal letter for me
It seems too much of a coincidence to let go...in the span of a single day, I've read my bestie's blog and spoken to another of my bestie, and they both mentioned one thing: Privacy.
It's true isn't it?
To quote Amelia -
And here I am, an adult, still writing in my blog, the same one I've started when I was 15. But circumstances has changed. Back then I poured every feelings I had into my blog. Every angsty thought, every joy, every pain, every celebration and every grief. These days I hardly found anything worthy of writing. My daily life settled into a humdrum routine that hardly required any thinking or retrospection. I wonder how did every event filled me with wonder, and how they were jot-worthy, and these days I let things pass by without second thoughts. Is it part of growing up, of being an adult?
I've never felt more adult before. Perhaps it's overdue, now that I'm 23. What I say and do matter more. I'm responsible and accountable for every word and every action. I can no longer use "being young" as my crutch, because I'm no longer so young anymore, am I?
Ah, how I wish I can still write like that. Yes, I'm lifting off my best friend's blog. Her thoughts mirrored what I feel, except she's expressed it beautifully. I've learnt many a lesson about being too free with my writing, and I can remember the first incident where my college-mates printed the blog entry I wrote the previous day, and it ended up with many tears and feelings of betrayal. I learnt the price of being too free with my tongue in university, it was a heavy price to pay. I trusted the wrong people, my spirit was broken for a long while. To this day, it felt like I'm still running away from that period of my life, that miserable six months I existed instead of lived, and it was a bitter life lesson I will bring to my grave. So, I finally learn to self-censor, to keep thoughts about people out of my blog, and to stick to insipid, general things in life that will not offend anyone. Because I cannot pretend to be a nice person who thought kindly of everyone. No, I'm one of those people who are suspicious and negative about things, the kind of person who subscribe to "guilty until proven innocent" mindset, and although I'm much better now, I'm painfully aware that its the way I perceive people, and its something I've not been able to change. So, eventually, I've even stopped writing regularly. So that begs two questions:
1. Is it worth keeping a blog when I cannot even say freely what I feel about anything and everything?
2. Are our lives so dependent on those nearest and dearest to us?
I told my other friend, what's the use of writing now that I've lost my audience with my blog being on hiatus for over 8 months? She, whom I will not name, told me perhaps its for the better cause, because I have the privacy to write and not have persons concerned reading and judging me for it. She started a private blog for that exact same reason: she wanted to write from her heart and not get into trouble for it.
(I've even read through and edited this entry, so that it doesn't appear a certain way, to speak of the devil)
So why do we choose to express ourselves so publicly, and yet lament the lost of privacy? I bet nobody from a mere generation ago (think: your parents) would imagine that just about anyone could be famous through youtube, and through their writings and photos (think: Karen Cheng and Kenny Sia), that you could text or email your local politician, and critisize your prime minister on his blog. We are a generation hungry for attention, and we are a generation who record our lives publicly. No details are too sacred and personal these days. People record their relationships, pregnancy, dying and living for all and sundry.
So do I.
But self-censorship, I certainly practice. When I write, I'm conscious of the risk of having my friends, classmates, professors and my mom bumping into my blog.
And the last thing I want to do is to hurt them, their reputation, and in consequence, mine. Expressing myself may be important, but -and I cannot believe I'm saying this- the people I care about, people I love, are even more so. Certain things should be kept private and personal, and I see why, I see it now. Another part of me is still trying to reawaken the part of me that feels life so urgently. Been dormant for a while, and I want to be able to describe life in all its vividness without resorting to talking about people. I want to record life as I see it.
Like I said, I've never felt more adult in my life. I'm responsible for myself, and I'm far, far away from those I grew up with, and from mom and dad. I worry. I worry about where I'm living next, whether I can get any jobs, what sort of jobs I can try for, and where I'll be this time next year. I worry about money, about failing my parents and myself, and somehow, the feeling of inadequacy is ceaseless. Sometimes it felt like I'm only maintaining a facade, that there's still a child in me wanting to burst out and be careless and irresponsible. But those days were long gone. My peers had gone on to be engaged, get married, made babies. Holding jobs, paying their mortgages and having weekend getaways in nearby cities. I'm lucky to have been given a year's grace, but even that is ticking away.
I'm not angry anymore. I'm not sad anymore.
But I'm still lost.
Who am I? Who am I?
Can I still afford to be lost?
It's true isn't it?
To quote Amelia -
The purpose of a blog is to allow a space for expression. A space for random ideas, deep thoughts, retrospection and also sudden mind spasms.
And here I am, an adult, still writing in my blog, the same one I've started when I was 15. But circumstances has changed. Back then I poured every feelings I had into my blog. Every angsty thought, every joy, every pain, every celebration and every grief. These days I hardly found anything worthy of writing. My daily life settled into a humdrum routine that hardly required any thinking or retrospection. I wonder how did every event filled me with wonder, and how they were jot-worthy, and these days I let things pass by without second thoughts. Is it part of growing up, of being an adult?
I've never felt more adult before. Perhaps it's overdue, now that I'm 23. What I say and do matter more. I'm responsible and accountable for every word and every action. I can no longer use "being young" as my crutch, because I'm no longer so young anymore, am I?
My thoughts are no longer private and I cannot write as freely as I would like to. Every entry that served as a emotional release for me had to be written in some sort of cryptic way, so I can express myself without revealing too much. It seems to me that blogging, has somehow lost its purpose.
Ah, how I wish I can still write like that. Yes, I'm lifting off my best friend's blog. Her thoughts mirrored what I feel, except she's expressed it beautifully. I've learnt many a lesson about being too free with my writing, and I can remember the first incident where my college-mates printed the blog entry I wrote the previous day, and it ended up with many tears and feelings of betrayal. I learnt the price of being too free with my tongue in university, it was a heavy price to pay. I trusted the wrong people, my spirit was broken for a long while. To this day, it felt like I'm still running away from that period of my life, that miserable six months I existed instead of lived, and it was a bitter life lesson I will bring to my grave. So, I finally learn to self-censor, to keep thoughts about people out of my blog, and to stick to insipid, general things in life that will not offend anyone. Because I cannot pretend to be a nice person who thought kindly of everyone. No, I'm one of those people who are suspicious and negative about things, the kind of person who subscribe to "guilty until proven innocent" mindset, and although I'm much better now, I'm painfully aware that its the way I perceive people, and its something I've not been able to change. So, eventually, I've even stopped writing regularly. So that begs two questions:
1. Is it worth keeping a blog when I cannot even say freely what I feel about anything and everything?
2. Are our lives so dependent on those nearest and dearest to us?
I told my other friend, what's the use of writing now that I've lost my audience with my blog being on hiatus for over 8 months? She, whom I will not name, told me perhaps its for the better cause, because I have the privacy to write and not have persons concerned reading and judging me for it. She started a private blog for that exact same reason: she wanted to write from her heart and not get into trouble for it.
(I've even read through and edited this entry, so that it doesn't appear a certain way, to speak of the devil)
So why do we choose to express ourselves so publicly, and yet lament the lost of privacy? I bet nobody from a mere generation ago (think: your parents) would imagine that just about anyone could be famous through youtube, and through their writings and photos (think: Karen Cheng and Kenny Sia), that you could text or email your local politician, and critisize your prime minister on his blog. We are a generation hungry for attention, and we are a generation who record our lives publicly. No details are too sacred and personal these days. People record their relationships, pregnancy, dying and living for all and sundry.
So do I.
But self-censorship, I certainly practice. When I write, I'm conscious of the risk of having my friends, classmates, professors and my mom bumping into my blog.
And the last thing I want to do is to hurt them, their reputation, and in consequence, mine. Expressing myself may be important, but -and I cannot believe I'm saying this- the people I care about, people I love, are even more so. Certain things should be kept private and personal, and I see why, I see it now. Another part of me is still trying to reawaken the part of me that feels life so urgently. Been dormant for a while, and I want to be able to describe life in all its vividness without resorting to talking about people. I want to record life as I see it.
Like I said, I've never felt more adult in my life. I'm responsible for myself, and I'm far, far away from those I grew up with, and from mom and dad. I worry. I worry about where I'm living next, whether I can get any jobs, what sort of jobs I can try for, and where I'll be this time next year. I worry about money, about failing my parents and myself, and somehow, the feeling of inadequacy is ceaseless. Sometimes it felt like I'm only maintaining a facade, that there's still a child in me wanting to burst out and be careless and irresponsible. But those days were long gone. My peers had gone on to be engaged, get married, made babies. Holding jobs, paying their mortgages and having weekend getaways in nearby cities. I'm lucky to have been given a year's grace, but even that is ticking away.
I'm not angry anymore. I'm not sad anymore.
But I'm still lost.
Who am I? Who am I?
Can I still afford to be lost?
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Quick hi
Really I've got nothing to say at the moment, its quarter past midnight (ha-ha I've even started using the English time system - quarter past, quarter to, half past) on a Monday evening and I really SHOULD BE WORKING.
Instead, I got suckered into reading no other than Karen Cheng's blog..yes the woman of "Doing the Karen Cheng" fame. I guess what I really want is to get back into the groove of writing (semi)regularly, especially blogging.
Once in a while, I examine the reason for the lack of writing, and connected it to Facebook and the wonders of photo uploading. So instead of words, I (and thousands of others) went the lazy way and uploaded photos that suffice in making up for the words lost.
But that needs to complement the writing, not replacing it, as I realise how rusty I am with this, I've really lost the knack of writing, of looking for necessary vocabulary to express myself, especially because I'm not reading as often anymore, either. Perhaps being in THE English-speaking country abetted the loss of words ever-so-slightly...but meh. Who am I kidding?
So...here's the story. I'm currently still staying in Central Quay, the student flats I've stayed in since I arrived. Except in a different flat in a different block, and only til the end of this month. Early next month, I move.
To The Boomerang, the building that was an ex-pub.
View Larger Map
Not for long, I hope. I must confess a certain dislike to the area the building's in (Netherthorpe...which is *rough*), and how thin the walls are (noise travel TOO well in that place), and how we all have a single bed (been spoiled rotten with having a double bed), and also the fact that I'm sharing with even MORE people than I ever had. Six of us will be sharing a flat, and the only saving grace is that we're all friends, and there's three toilets and two showers in there. But I'll miss having my own self-contained bathroom where I can spend a lot of time and leave whatever I want in there while I mind my business. And then...I don't know what. I've been house-hunting pretty diligently the last couple of weeks (with a lot of help) and quickly realise that houses are easy to find, within the budget range...housemates are not. I've been offered a room with a double bed for pretty damn cheap rents near Bramall Lane (home to Sheffield United team), but has yet to see the place. Hopefully things will work out; people living there are nice. And I like nice people. And I strive to be nice.
So that's my housing situation.
I really hesitate to air the rest of my plans only because I haven't had any idea what I'll do with myself a few months down the road. Been hitting a worrying crisis lately, of not knowing what to do. I have enough money to live and find work for the next few months, but money will run out, and economy's grim and lately I've felt homesick enough to think maybe it's not bad at all that I return to Malaysia, and then search for work in Singapore. It's just easier. I'd move home. And live with mom. Except...can I still...? After living out for a year, do I want to move back? Being out here for almost a year now (in fact I've lived out for 11 months now!) made me realise I've been ready for such a long time to be on my own. Except I've been a lucky turd and got head start with money. But I know one day the tap will dry up and it'll be up to me to turn my own tap on. And of course, that's my main worry these days.
The other one is, I've got less than a month now to write my dissertation, and I'm nowhere at all, AT ALL, near done. I can say confidently I've got a couple chapters' draft, but that's it. Its a big sprawling mess, and I'm not feeling the panic yet, the rush and the need to get things going. It worries me, and cripples me. Like right now, it's past midnight, and I've stayed in all day, NOT working. I guess this is the time I send a silent prayer to the stars for strength and grace. And epiphany.
One more thing I want to mention is, I'm really trying hard to balance things. I've been seeing Tim a lot (every day of last week!) and while I enjoy every moment, I need to remind myself that it'll not be permanent, and I need to remember I'm my own person, and that I should not neglect my friends. Its easy to do so, using dissertation as my excuse, but I should know better. I've also been avoiding going up to Boomerang, only cos I can't be arsed to make the trek halfway up the hill. I also don't want to fall into the trap of being obsessed with my boyfriend - "Tim this, Tim that...Tim and I blah blah blah", especially with a couple of girls on my Facebook seeming so guilty of it that it makes mefascinated sick reading their blogs and following their walls. But it can be easy to do so, huh? But I will not let my life revolve around my boyfriend, I will grow my balls and worship gumption.
I will not resist this though:
Me in his jacket, hee.
Though, this I will say: I'm not sure what will happen in future. Of course I'm scared. It seems like no-future-no-hope kind of thing, hinges on where I'll be in a few months' time, and in the longer term, where he'll be when he finishes uni. I can feel it, feel myself feeling more for him with time. Its unsettling to say, yeah I've got a boyfriend.I'm 23 and its the first time in my life I can, if I want to, point to a guy and yell "That's my boyfriend!". Feels surreal. And still feels like its just a dream and I'll snap out of it soon. This insecurity I have about guys not sticking around, its really unnatural, is it not? A product of one unsuccessful long-distance short-lived semi-relationship, and a series of sad sordid tales. I know I've got mental strength, so its up to me to snap out of it. To know that decent guys with good hearts exist and I've met one. He's so endearing and cute and funny, and we're good together. I hope karma doesn't (see I'm stuck for the word I want right now.) bite back (that's it!) after the shit I've done though. Let bygones be bygones. Water under the bridge. I've straightened up good now!
We've also been doing a bit (ok, a lot!) of cooking lately, and I'll let the photos do the talking:
Bolognese sauce and pasta
Strawberries and whipped cream - we whipped it by hand ourselves! Utterly sinful.
Lasagne (he made this with *some* help from me!)
Stuffed peppers
You get the picture! Yum. I really do enjoy cooking when I have people to share my food with, though I must say its a costly and time-consuming hobby considering the way I live off 10-minute prep time meals for ages, and not bother with something as elaborate as a cottage pie or lasagne or my mom's boiled pork belly that takes like an hour to cook.
But...I gotta say, it's worth it. Yum.
Next, I wanna try baking muffins or banana loaf. Never meddled with any sort of bakery or pastry stuff before, time to try! Yes, I am semi-Kitchen Goddess! Step aside Nigella!
Anyway, I should really do some dissertation work. Really really should.
Instead, I got suckered into reading no other than Karen Cheng's blog..yes the woman of "Doing the Karen Cheng" fame. I guess what I really want is to get back into the groove of writing (semi)regularly, especially blogging.
Once in a while, I examine the reason for the lack of writing, and connected it to Facebook and the wonders of photo uploading. So instead of words, I (and thousands of others) went the lazy way and uploaded photos that suffice in making up for the words lost.
But that needs to complement the writing, not replacing it, as I realise how rusty I am with this, I've really lost the knack of writing, of looking for necessary vocabulary to express myself, especially because I'm not reading as often anymore, either. Perhaps being in THE English-speaking country abetted the loss of words ever-so-slightly...but meh. Who am I kidding?
So...here's the story. I'm currently still staying in Central Quay, the student flats I've stayed in since I arrived. Except in a different flat in a different block, and only til the end of this month. Early next month, I move.
To The Boomerang, the building that was an ex-pub.
View Larger Map
Not for long, I hope. I must confess a certain dislike to the area the building's in (Netherthorpe...which is *rough*), and how thin the walls are (noise travel TOO well in that place), and how we all have a single bed (been spoiled rotten with having a double bed), and also the fact that I'm sharing with even MORE people than I ever had. Six of us will be sharing a flat, and the only saving grace is that we're all friends, and there's three toilets and two showers in there. But I'll miss having my own self-contained bathroom where I can spend a lot of time and leave whatever I want in there while I mind my business. And then...I don't know what. I've been house-hunting pretty diligently the last couple of weeks (with a lot of help) and quickly realise that houses are easy to find, within the budget range...housemates are not. I've been offered a room with a double bed for pretty damn cheap rents near Bramall Lane (home to Sheffield United team), but has yet to see the place. Hopefully things will work out; people living there are nice. And I like nice people. And I strive to be nice.
So that's my housing situation.
I really hesitate to air the rest of my plans only because I haven't had any idea what I'll do with myself a few months down the road. Been hitting a worrying crisis lately, of not knowing what to do. I have enough money to live and find work for the next few months, but money will run out, and economy's grim and lately I've felt homesick enough to think maybe it's not bad at all that I return to Malaysia, and then search for work in Singapore. It's just easier. I'd move home. And live with mom. Except...can I still...? After living out for a year, do I want to move back? Being out here for almost a year now (in fact I've lived out for 11 months now!) made me realise I've been ready for such a long time to be on my own. Except I've been a lucky turd and got head start with money. But I know one day the tap will dry up and it'll be up to me to turn my own tap on. And of course, that's my main worry these days.
The other one is, I've got less than a month now to write my dissertation, and I'm nowhere at all, AT ALL, near done. I can say confidently I've got a couple chapters' draft, but that's it. Its a big sprawling mess, and I'm not feeling the panic yet, the rush and the need to get things going. It worries me, and cripples me. Like right now, it's past midnight, and I've stayed in all day, NOT working. I guess this is the time I send a silent prayer to the stars for strength and grace. And epiphany.
One more thing I want to mention is, I'm really trying hard to balance things. I've been seeing Tim a lot (every day of last week!) and while I enjoy every moment, I need to remind myself that it'll not be permanent, and I need to remember I'm my own person, and that I should not neglect my friends. Its easy to do so, using dissertation as my excuse, but I should know better. I've also been avoiding going up to Boomerang, only cos I can't be arsed to make the trek halfway up the hill. I also don't want to fall into the trap of being obsessed with my boyfriend - "Tim this, Tim that...Tim and I blah blah blah", especially with a couple of girls on my Facebook seeming so guilty of it that it makes me
I will not resist this though:
Me in his jacket, hee.
Though, this I will say: I'm not sure what will happen in future. Of course I'm scared. It seems like no-future-no-hope kind of thing, hinges on where I'll be in a few months' time, and in the longer term, where he'll be when he finishes uni. I can feel it, feel myself feeling more for him with time. Its unsettling to say, yeah I've got a boyfriend.
We've also been doing a bit (ok, a lot!) of cooking lately, and I'll let the photos do the talking:
Bolognese sauce and pasta
Strawberries and whipped cream - we whipped it by hand ourselves! Utterly sinful.
Lasagne (he made this with *some* help from me!)
Stuffed peppers
You get the picture! Yum. I really do enjoy cooking when I have people to share my food with, though I must say its a costly and time-consuming hobby considering the way I live off 10-minute prep time meals for ages, and not bother with something as elaborate as a cottage pie or lasagne or my mom's boiled pork belly that takes like an hour to cook.
But...I gotta say, it's worth it. Yum.
Next, I wanna try baking muffins or banana loaf. Never meddled with any sort of bakery or pastry stuff before, time to try! Yes, I am semi-Kitchen Goddess! Step aside Nigella!
Anyway, I should really do some dissertation work. Really really should.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Things to do, and to bring back...and forth
1. This is my to-do before I leave:
-Find accommodation for after 19th Sept DONE
-Change my HSBC account to something that doesn't bloody charge me £8 a month DONE
-Get new young persons' railway card (one month in advance)DONE
-Collect train tickets London-Sheffield from Sheffield Station DONE
-Change my address details to the new(as yet to be)found place for Vodafone, University, HSBC
-Sort out London trip before I leave DONE
-Where to kip for the night when I return DONE
-Get back deposit from Unite and Vodafone DONE
-Make appointment with UHS DONE
-Sell textbooks DONE
2. This is a (GROWING) list of things I'm shipping back to good old England in preparation for winter:
-Milo DONE
-Konnyaku jelly DONE
-Ipoh White Coffee (for the Boy)DONE
-Chinese Tea
-Curry Paste DONE
-Chinese mushrooms DONE
-Ikan bilis DONE
-Sago DONE
-Root beer DONE
-Dried mango DONE
-Sakema DONE
-Lantern DONE
-Mooncake
-Durian flavoured things (dodol?)
-Contact lens
-Contact lens solution DONE
-Nivea Lipbalm DONE
-Toothbrush (Oral B) DONE
-Laptop fan cooler
-External hard drive
-Dehumidifier
3. And THIS is a reminder of things to check before I go home:
-Undies from Marks & Spencer for Chenn DONE
-Pet advice for the dogs
-Jewellery cleaner for mom
-Shortbread DONE
-LUSH DONE
...
-Find accommodation for after 19th Sept DONE
-Change my HSBC account to something that doesn't bloody charge me £8 a month DONE
-Get new young persons' railway card (one month in advance)DONE
-Collect train tickets London-Sheffield from Sheffield Station DONE
-Change my address details to the new(as yet to be)found place for Vodafone, University, HSBC
-Sort out London trip before I leave DONE
-Where to kip for the night when I return DONE
-Get back deposit from Unite and Vodafone DONE
-Make appointment with UHS DONE
-Sell textbooks DONE
2. This is a (GROWING) list of things I'm shipping back to good old England in preparation for winter:
-Milo DONE
-Konnyaku jelly DONE
-Ipoh White Coffee (for the Boy)DONE
-Chinese Tea
-Curry Paste DONE
-Chinese mushrooms DONE
-Ikan bilis DONE
-Sago DONE
-Root beer DONE
-Dried mango DONE
-Sakema DONE
-Lantern DONE
-Mooncake
-Durian flavoured things (dodol?)
-Contact lens
-Contact lens solution DONE
-Nivea Lipbalm DONE
-Toothbrush (Oral B) DONE
-Laptop fan cooler
-External hard drive
-Dehumidifier
3. And THIS is a reminder of things to check before I go home:
-Undies from Marks & Spencer for Chenn DONE
-Pet advice for the dogs
-Jewellery cleaner for mom
-Shortbread DONE
-LUSH DONE
...
Friday, July 31, 2009
I'm back! And alive!
Ayup! That's right! Its me and I'm back after missing for almost 10 months. I've been jotting notes on Facebook, being such an addict and on there constantly...
But I do remember that I have a blog, somewhere in the dusty shelf of the back of my mind. And I remember how its accompanied me, first from blog-city, and now blogspot or blogger, through my teen years, as a sounding board, memory board and ranting board.
You'll have noticed a few changes: An addition at the top of my blog. Two, actually! =D
Adsense...whatever to bring in some money.
And a little image to remind me (the non-sappy type) that I have, yes, finally, maybe, found myself a *drum roll* boyfriend! I'm as surprised and shocked as the next person. The perpetual single in me snort derisively and thought, "tis NOT possible!" But it seemed like he's going to stay for a while.
*Clap clap clap*
Can't believe the sort of changes I've let go without noting down. My HTML skills definitely gone rusty, I forgot how to link, and post pictures. But all will be rectified as of...right now!
So here's a pic. Or two...
Prerequisite details: The Boy is Tim (...uh, yes, no confusion, apparently I have an affinity to the name), 25, Yorkshire lad, university-going arty-type and absolutely sweet and funny and sharp and been really really good to and for me.
What did I do to deserve such a great guy?
In all honesty, I had my doubts, and fears...I've expected him to wake up everyday and thought it was all a big mistake and walk away...but I guess the fears were bordering on unreasonable paranoia, and I am learning to trust and believe that the situation is permanent. I've always thought of falling for someone as fireworks and great big fluttering heartbeats and butterflies in stomach...but I guess I'm starting to learn that maybe, just maybe this is the other kind, the kind you nurture and build together, the kind that inspired the Love Comes Softly kind of stories. Right now we're in the process of building memories together, and so far? So good.
*Fingers crossed*
Tee hee.
Meanwhile...I have a lot on my plate, and definitely is not doing it at the moment, mainly being my dissertation. Am also house-searching, and probably job-seeking, going home in October for a month, and planning, wondering, thinking.
Been a bit stressed to the point of having regular nightmares...rare for me.
But yes, all those and more when I've got time to write them down.
Meanwhile, a look of Sheffield in Summer
But I do remember that I have a blog, somewhere in the dusty shelf of the back of my mind. And I remember how its accompanied me, first from blog-city, and now blogspot or blogger, through my teen years, as a sounding board, memory board and ranting board.
You'll have noticed a few changes: An addition at the top of my blog. Two, actually! =D
Adsense...whatever to bring in some money.
And a little image to remind me (the non-sappy type) that I have, yes, finally, maybe, found myself a *drum roll* boyfriend! I'm as surprised and shocked as the next person. The perpetual single in me snort derisively and thought, "tis NOT possible!" But it seemed like he's going to stay for a while.
*Clap clap clap*
Can't believe the sort of changes I've let go without noting down. My HTML skills definitely gone rusty, I forgot how to link, and post pictures. But all will be rectified as of...right now!
So here's a pic. Or two...
Prerequisite details: The Boy is Tim (...uh, yes, no confusion, apparently I have an affinity to the name), 25, Yorkshire lad, university-going arty-type and absolutely sweet and funny and sharp and been really really good to and for me.
What did I do to deserve such a great guy?
In all honesty, I had my doubts, and fears...I've expected him to wake up everyday and thought it was all a big mistake and walk away...but I guess the fears were bordering on unreasonable paranoia, and I am learning to trust and believe that the situation is permanent. I've always thought of falling for someone as fireworks and great big fluttering heartbeats and butterflies in stomach...but I guess I'm starting to learn that maybe, just maybe this is the other kind, the kind you nurture and build together, the kind that inspired the Love Comes Softly kind of stories. Right now we're in the process of building memories together, and so far? So good.
*Fingers crossed*
Tee hee.
Meanwhile...I have a lot on my plate, and definitely is not doing it at the moment, mainly being my dissertation. Am also house-searching, and probably job-seeking, going home in October for a month, and planning, wondering, thinking.
Been a bit stressed to the point of having regular nightmares...rare for me.
But yes, all those and more when I've got time to write them down.
Meanwhile, a look of Sheffield in Summer
Monday, July 27, 2009
The lack of plans
Funny it seems how I've forgotten to jot down memories these days...or rather, the past year or so, considering I've faithfully done it for the best part of the last 10 years.
Has it really been a decade already since I've reached teenagehood, went through mid-teen life crisis and is now slowly awakening to the fact that I am indeed an adult, not daddy's little girl anymore?
"You need a plan." So Tim said.
But...That's how I've been operating for a long, long while now. Planless. Without plans. Day-to-day. Some days it nags at me; I know its not the best of plans. I don't know why I've placed blockers on my brain, stopped myself from looking to the future, planning for tomorrow. I definitely have a fear of commitment, it was certainly terrible how long it took me to click on that 'Buy now' button for my flight home. I hesitate to go left, right, up, down...I guess if there's an analogy, its that there's many doors (still) opened and I don't know which ones to slam shut.
Should I be worried I don't have a Plan? What IS my Life Plan anyway? I don't remember anymore. Had there been one to start with? Who would've known I'll end up where I am today, not that 'today' is static because tomorrow I'll be somewhere else?
The wanderlust in me tamed and waned slightly, but the thirst for adventure has not been quelled, not in the slightest. Am feeling a bit restless, like I need to go on life's another chapter, but I need to be patient, to wait, to finish this task before I can hop over the other side. All I know is, I'm not ready to go home, not yet, not by long shot.
I came out here to find answers, and so far, made more questions. I've learnt a lot through trial and error, burnt my own fingers more than once, and I hope not only am I a better person for it, but a tougher, wiser one. I definitely know what I don't honestly care about - Michael Jackson dying, most of world politics, writing another academic paper and the drinking life, but I care too little about things that mattered too - my mom, my family, loved ones, friends, politics at home...But the nightmares I had the last couple of days serve as a wake up call.
Yes. I think I need a Plan. But nothing too specific.
Because I like the thrill, stress and wonder of an unplanned adventure.
Has it really been a decade already since I've reached teenagehood, went through mid-teen life crisis and is now slowly awakening to the fact that I am indeed an adult, not daddy's little girl anymore?
"You need a plan." So Tim said.
But...That's how I've been operating for a long, long while now. Planless. Without plans. Day-to-day. Some days it nags at me; I know its not the best of plans. I don't know why I've placed blockers on my brain, stopped myself from looking to the future, planning for tomorrow. I definitely have a fear of commitment, it was certainly terrible how long it took me to click on that 'Buy now' button for my flight home. I hesitate to go left, right, up, down...I guess if there's an analogy, its that there's many doors (still) opened and I don't know which ones to slam shut.
Should I be worried I don't have a Plan? What IS my Life Plan anyway? I don't remember anymore. Had there been one to start with? Who would've known I'll end up where I am today, not that 'today' is static because tomorrow I'll be somewhere else?
The wanderlust in me tamed and waned slightly, but the thirst for adventure has not been quelled, not in the slightest. Am feeling a bit restless, like I need to go on life's another chapter, but I need to be patient, to wait, to finish this task before I can hop over the other side. All I know is, I'm not ready to go home, not yet, not by long shot.
I came out here to find answers, and so far, made more questions. I've learnt a lot through trial and error, burnt my own fingers more than once, and I hope not only am I a better person for it, but a tougher, wiser one. I definitely know what I don't honestly care about - Michael Jackson dying, most of world politics, writing another academic paper and the drinking life, but I care too little about things that mattered too - my mom, my family, loved ones, friends, politics at home...But the nightmares I had the last couple of days serve as a wake up call.
Yes. I think I need a Plan. But nothing too specific.
Because I like the thrill, stress and wonder of an unplanned adventure.
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