Dreams vs Reality

A blog entry inspired by Joanna's blog post

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

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

The Boy has been so awesome to me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Endings

...my internship that is.

Started yesterday, ended today.

Learned some, gained some and need more. Money, that is.

To the great job search, again.

I'm dejected, in truth...It drains the will of living out of a person, making one feel so insecure and inadequate of one's inabilities. But that's the way it is here, and I chose this path, so I will walk on.

Bruges was great, I will do a good blog post on it very soon, but on the ferry home...the dark waters beneath the ferry looked so inviting. It'd be so easy to just...jump in. While I'm still ahead. But is the situation bad enough? At all? Was I crazy? It is NOT end of the road for me.

So I took a moment to take stock, to look at the bigger picture. Yes, maybe it's time to go. Better now than in a year's time, when I still have not much to show, and not because of what I am incapable of. At least now I take away the most of what I have done; what I could do, but not have the opportunity to...and put it to good use elsewhere. "Free reins" was just an excuse, I'm not a salesperson.

I know what motivates me: That paycheque, the knowledge that what I do meant something, good communication and camaraderie, and that there's a team of supportive, equally enthusiastic workmates alongside me.

Will come back when I'm more cheery. Meanwhile, one gotta plod on.

Bye Pudu Jail

I did not apply for a single job last weekend.

I was bad. :(

*Bad, lazy Puiyee! BAD!*

On another thought, Pudu Jail is apparently going down tonight (probably is in the midst of being demolished already as we speak). I only feel a bit sorry because I spent my memorable primary school years in its vicinity only to watch the surrounding areas change and transform with shocking speed and brutal efficiency ...all in the name of development.

The monorail and Berjaya Times Square wasn't even there when I went to school there. The building across our school was called Shaw Parade, and we used to go to the McDs on the ground floor there before computer classes. That main road separating our school from McDs was where I learnt to cross roads safely. Bukit Bintang Girl School existed when I was a kid, and I could see it from my mum's office when she worked in KL Plaza.

These days I barely recognise the entire area. The Pandan roundabout was no more to start with. I wouldn't know how to go to Jln Loke Yew if you ask me these days. Jalan Peel, Jalan Cochrane, Jalan Tambi Dollah and Jalan Changkat Jering remain only names from my childhood.

And today another landmark will be physically removed from us.

Development, the evil word, huh?


Source:Pudu Jail

But not from my memories.

Those are good. Those remain treasured.

NOTE TO SELF

WILL APPLY FOR JOBS THIS WEEKEND, NO PROCRASTINATING, ELSE, ONE WILL PUNISH ONESELF.

Yes, I'm screaming at myself. That's right.

Weirdos abound

Confession: I FaceStalk.

A lot.

It pleases me immensely to log on in the mornings (after a 12-hour hiatus) to check on people's not just status messages, but posted items/links, changes, photos, events, etc.

I'm born nosy. I blame momma and dadda.

Maybe it's my Asian genes?

ANYWAY.

Point is, there is quite a few people who I FaceStalk especially simply because they post constantly and they're a laugh. They run the gamut - from being plain stupid to plain vain to simply unbelievably retarded (but believes otherwise).

I enjoy. A LOT! :D

Same reason why I read blogs written by an unnamed American-wise-guy-former-'expat'-in-Singapore-who-had-a-row-with-Xiaxue. Because some people are truly unbelieable, y'know? Plagiarism! Nicking ideas off other people! Stating the obvious! Viewing the world in one dimension!

Now...I'm not saying I'm not a weirdo/retard/vainpot myself. I am. I just happen to have a bit more self-awareness.

Siapa makan cili, dia terasa pedas lah, ya?
*If you eat spice, you'll feel the heat*

Otherwise, don't be perasan lah!


Trying to reflect the mean karma with a mirror as I type

Holiday booked

Well, not a holiday per se, more like a weekend getaway to Bruges, Belgium.

Itinerary
8 July
Sheffield --> Hull (train)
Hull --> Zeebrugge (overnight ferry)

9 July
Arrive in Zeebrugge --> Transfer to Bruges on coach
Explore city and check in hotel

10 July
Explore city
Evening coach from Bruges to Zeebrugge
Zeebrugge --> Hull

11 July
Hull --> Sheffield

Fingers crossed!

Twelve months today!

For posterity's sake (I'm really usually not this sentimental *cough*) -



And regrettably, we're not going to do anything "special"...well, because it's middle of the week, he's at home and we do plenty special things together anyway *wink*.

I mean, we do plenty of walks, meals, shopping, visiting, films...

Couple of things on the pipeline though: Maybe a 2-person BBQ in a park this weekend if the weather permits and/or a Japanese meal.



Love ya, you shmelly poo

Hunger and karipap

My stomach's been growling and grumbling for a while now. It's 11.53am and still at least half an hour before it is decent to have my lunch.

And I keep smelling curry puff (karipap to us Malaysians lah ya...) even though I think it's just the reduced continental loafs in my drawer (18p for 4!).

I'm thinking of Bruges or Amsterdam with the boy on either the 18th or 25th weekend.

We went to Leeds last Saturday but it was too warm and bright and sunshiny to do too much.

I cooked lamb shanks yesterday.

And I'd do many many things for one of these gems preferably with a piece of boiled egg and many chicken chunks inside:


Credits

Oh mak aku...

Delivery boy

Last night my housemate's Tesco delivery order arrived.

She was on the phone upstairs and her boyfriend was cleaning the toilet and trailing bleach.

I opened the door, greeted the guy, he looked at me, and was obviously taken in.

Small talks, passing around products ensued.

Tickles me to know I still *have it* despite being in an oversized uni hoodie.

*Pats back, me*

An entirely syiok sendiri post

Don't know now

What do you do, when you know someone close is walking down the other path?

That it's a road of no-return, and their mindset, beliefs and faith, will all be so irrevocably different, so opposing and opposed of yours?

That the very core, essence, nature of your friendship, of the trust and love you placed on it, will have to change?

I've lost so much, and I'm losing this one more.

Feels like one more reason to hate.

Too many women?

With the addition of another person into our house, we have a total of 4 females and one male living together in close quarters.

One evening, we all sat together to watch Ally McBeal and naturally, girl-friendly conversations ensued.

Our lone male housemate took a bottle of beer from the shelf, retired to the kitchen, tuned in to Hallam FM, and contemplated life.

And that's how I found him, sipping his beer.

'Too many women!', he said.

Classic.

A day in the life of...

Bliss is...when the weather permits and you and your housemates walk to the market to shop; when you smell charcoal smoke wafting in the air; when you hear the sound of meat sizzling on the barbie, and when you have a huge chow-down session with loads meat, potato salad and laughter.



This is our very first BBQ of the year, despite the threatening rain (it did drizzle lightly at one point, we moved the BBQ to the alleyway between our house and neighbour's) it was amazing.



Then a week later, to celebrate my housemate Ally (long-awaited) finishing her dissertation, Hilary moving into the house, and mine and Tim J and Tim C's birthdays, and Marcia's internship with the British Red Cross (yes a lot of reasons to celebrate!), we had another BBQ.

It was a warmer, sunnier day as well.



Marcia wrapping up Tim C's present, our kitchen looked like a mini-disaster zone with plates, salad bowls and sauces spread around.



I do love this photo, it's really not that great it being unfocused and grainy...but it did capture the moment.



And finally, just to show off, my massive birthday card...



It's a good start to warmer weather, but I'm finally old enough to not want to tell people my age anymore.

Ish.

Bad habit

When I'm in a supermarket or sandwich shop or newsagent...

I am always tempted to pick up a snack or two. And sometimes I succumb.

A bar of chocolate. A bag of crisps. A stick of Starburst.

But I never finish them. Actually, I don't even open them or look at them. They sit on my table for weeks and weeks, til Tim asks if he can have some. I always let him finish them off.

Aior...either I eat or I stop buying. Cos I have a lone packet of Salt & Vinegar Walkers Crisps on my desk and 2/3 of a stick of Starburst in my drawer that will remain uneaten now.

Brick wall

Dear me,

I really, really need to talk. I just don't know who'd listen and help me analyse this. I've been feeling a tad low.

I wonder what it takes to make lasting relationships.

Because I seem to be the type who burns bridges every so often...and awful as it is, the last few weeks, I have been and still is tempted, to burn that one bridge that I have cultivated, watered, fed and nurtured for a year now. Well, more like built foundations, laid bricks, painted and tarmacked considering I'm speaking of a bridge...but anyhow, my heart is painfully telling me, I want out.

But immediately after that, I know how absurd it is, because there is no solid reason to, apart from my feeling bored and frustrated about how life is going in general. That I want to set myself free once again, into the world, and start again.

Reset.

I can't. The illusion that I have done it once came from the generousity of my dad. There will be no second chance, and rightly so. There's nothing left I'm allowed to ask beyond what I have already demanded.

Why? What is it?

Dancing on my tongue is the closest easiest reply: I'm afraid of commitment. I want to hold out.

But for what? How greedy can I get? When will enough really be enough for me?

I just feel at this moment, that life is on a bit of a freefall. I feel like I have no support, and I'm too prideful, too ashamed to ask. To admit I don't know, to admit how green I still am. I am on the verge of cracking, perhaps already am, but I can't pinpoint the exact reason(s), and it baffles me because I'm supposed to be a strong person. But a strong person doesn't snap and throw tantrums and sulk. And those are the very things I found myself doing to comfort myself, reminiscence of the young girl I was. The only element missing is the out-and-out yelling and arguing.

I just want to jump onto a plane train (volcano ash, less carbon footprints) and leave once again. When will I learn, truly learn to be in control? Why the relapses?

Heart, be still...

So much to say...

...but really, nowhere to say it.

Because half (or most) are just thoughts floating in my head, the need to whinge and moan.

1. My tummy hurts :(

2. My hands are cold, the office is cold.

3. I don't wanna work today, still tired from yesterday.

4. I feel like cooking. Its extremely satisfying. Even if it goes wrong, it won't taste horrible. Because its usually just the case of not getting the 'right' taste, but I'm glad apart from being slightly heavy-handed with salt (and pepper), I've got good seasoning 'eye'

5. I'm slightly put out with The Boy. I don't know why. I know I shouldn't be. I'm being unreasonable. I'm feeling the sort of feelings I should not be feeling. I need to master them and be more rational. Do not let my heart rule over my head.

6. I have 7 hours til end of my work day.

7. My hands are still cold.

8. I want more money.

9. I wanna fly off somewhere again. Or take a train. Just go away.

10. Just Friday blues, shut up Puiyee.

An unusual feeling indeed

And that feeling is, at the moment, pretty content.

Very rarely I share news of joy, because of my inherent fear of jinxing things. Sort of like, by voicing something aloud, I turn it pear-shaped.

But as I walk home from work these days (I still sleep late and drag myself up in the mornings), I feel good. I have a vague smile on my face. I wave hello to the little old lady standing outside her house at 5.15pm every evening.

I feel in some ways I've came a full circle. Its a good feeling.

Yesterday I got tired of my long hair and trimmed it myself on my bed with the bin sat next to my covers. Today I changed all my bedcovers. My duvet's bright and pink again. I get paid tomorrow. It's also UK elections day. My laptop screen busted 2 weeks ago, and the computer guy at the computer shop is taking his time. Tim loaned me his laptop. No stress.

It's 12.45am, I should shower and sleep soon. Maybe after reading some news on the Beeb. Maybe after watching Jamie 'Oh my Lord!' Oliver prance his way through Stockholm.

Bahasa saya....

...sangat, sangat karat.

Apakah punca masalahnya? Sistem pelajaran yang tidak berkesan? Masa di bangku sekolah, selama 11 tahun, saya fasih Bahasa, siap dengan loghat Melayu. Tapi, tinggalkan sekolah sahaja, hancur terus, penguasaan bahasa langsung menjadi lemah.

Sekarang, nak fikirkan perkataan pun susah, lidah kelu, kena cari di Wikipedia atau kamus Inggeris-Melayu!

Dan dahlah sekarang daku di seberang laut, tiada peluang berbahasa. Maklumlah, jarang dapat bertemu orang Malaysia, tegur sapa pun cuma di kedai sesekali-sekala.

Aduh, sedih. Sedih.

Oh I have a blog!

Before I start, it's Tim's birthday today. 26 and ticking.
Happy Birthday, darling!

Good thing I remember sometimes.

That, you know, I have a blog. To think it's accompanied me through, how many years now, 7 or 8? being my constant white slate to ponder on, vent out and analyse life as it unfolds for me...

Its purpose changed, of course...I learnt about the pros and cons of airing dirty linen in public, the consequences of uncensored thoughts to people around me and to have trolls and teenage-hormone-fueled cruel comments posted to me years and years ago.

Now I'm not even sure I have readers, and it doesn't matter in the slightest. Tim asked me the other day, why do people blog? If they don't intend it for an audience, why make it public at all? And why do we allow strangers to read our thoughts, the very same we hesitate to tell, or downright hide away from our loved ones.

I don't know. Personally, maybe in some ways it helped me censor my thoughts? That I have true, very un-PC or very biased/ignorant/unkind thoughts, but I learn to keep those quiet by posting only what I think is okay to say on here? It's no longer an arena for me to moan about my mom, or the tediousness of chores or the minute details of my day-to-day living, so what is it for me then?

It seems like all I do is to vent here. Why not in a diary then? Because...it's just easier to type and post, than to put (real) pen on (real) paper? Besides I don't have to lug a diary around with me. I just need access to a computer and the Internet. Or at worst, a pendrive. And as we all know, it's easier to find a cyber cafe these days than to find a stationary shop, yes?

Anyway, as I ramble on aimlessly, a beautiful rainbow appeared outside my window, underlining the beauty that appears alongside grey April showers, its semi-circle obvious and it felt like if I'd care to do so, I could walk to either of its end and find my pot of gold. And as I look up, now, it's already faded, reminding me how fleeting (or ephemeral or transient, whichever you prefer) beauty and really, life is.

And yes, the underlining point is, I no longer come here and confide regularly, willingly. So why do I keep it up? Is it for sentimental reasons? Or the once-in-a-blue-moon urge to blog, like right now? I don't know. Maybe its just for posterity reasons, voicing my soliloquy, aloud. Maybe I just want a form of memory so that I can look back 10, 20, 30 years down the road. Books can rot and disappear, but I don't see that happening to the Internet. Or maybe it's a false sense of security. Who knows?

But I think I should post things up more often. Even if its only a new haircut, or someone's birthday, or just a good/bad day.

And yes, some good news finally: Third time lucky, you'd call it, I interviewed for Towntalk UK for a 12-week internship, and guess who received the formal offer?

Real work for me at last. Time to do what I can do, and find a way into a permanent career path. I hope I won't cock it up to say the least, and that I'll do more than well.

I start tomorrow.

Oooh, am already nervous!

Do Not Know...

why...

But.

Anger, hopelessness and melancholy has been my companion all last night and today.

The fight I fight seems too immense. Like a losing battle.

A voice niggling inside telling me to quit while I'm ahead.

Cut my losses and move on.

I've left my home, my country, my friends, my family.

Can't go back.

Can't go ahead.

No faith no love no trust.

A bit of mumble jumble

Quite a jumbled mind I have in recent days...

Where do I start?

The main things are: I've started a job, I'm depressed, and I'm trapped in circles made in my own head.

Right now I'm listening to One Republic's Come Home...I know it's a sad song, but for some reason it's also one of the most memorable songs and one of my favourites. Not just lyrics-wise, but also how haunting it all sounds, I don't care what you say, that it's pop and mainstream or whatever, I'm a conformist! Therefore I listen to mainstream music, kapish?

But, yeah, it's like, a couple years ago (or maybe it's more than that, I'm getting older afterall), I felt like I need to run away to find myself. But then I learnt maybe I will have to run away, learn and then realise what I want is at home anyway. But I'm not ready to go home.

And there's nothing I desire more than happiness, but what if it's at the expense of others? Would that still make me happy in the long run and in the bigger picture? I don't know. All I know is, my life's in a limbo at the minute, I have half a job that I'm really unhappy about, no clear plans for the next month, much less 3, 6, 12 or 18 months ahead, and should I even plan when life's so fragile and so surprising, and throws you many twists? I don't know either.

I guess I'm now living life "on the run" if it makes sense. I just don't want to be on a freefall and splat on the ground because then that wouldn't be pretty. Acceptance is hard, especially of reality and the practicality of things. I always considered myself practical and down-to-earth. But I'm also very set in my ways, willful and stubborn. I want things in a certain way, and usually, my way and my way only. To accept that this job is all I can hope for at the moment, that I need to dredge to my workplace every morning, that I have to stop throwing tantrums the moment my alarm rings and to stop looking so miserable at work...all that is difficult. I just can't swallow it. Or accept it.

People come in all shapes and forms, and I need to remember the learning opportunity that I can take away from this, even if the financial gain is but a pittance. And remember the goodness, the kindness and the generosity of strangers.

I need to learn this lesson now if I want to move on with life: That the world is not just my oyster, it's also millions of other people's oysters. That when I take, I should be taking away from another person. I don't know where I'm going with this...because now the thought struck me. Couple of posts ago, I asked for luck with something important; it was for a job interview. I didn't get it, of course...the other person showed a bit more "knowledge" than I did during the interview. Otherwise I was perfect in every way. I took that hard, perhaps too hard. I was picked over, and I took it personally. But then, who can I blame?

It wasn't for my lack of passion, it was for my lack of knowledge.

I feel slightly, ok, very cheated.

I can't believe right now how much passion, how much drive, how much want I'm showing in wanting to prove my abilities and potential and break into the communications industry. I've said this before, and now with even more conviction, after I've landed my current dismal job in a call centre, cold calling businesses to ask for their details. It's probably the easiest job with the chillest team in the entire centre, but I seeth under the control and manipulation of the supervising team leaders. I refuse to be played like I'm daft, I refuse to submit to their wishes and phrasing my words and mentality in the way they wanted me to. I refuse to be baited to enter their insipid contests to be top caller so that I earn an extra £5 or be given chocolates for rewards. I feel more strongly than ever that I'm more than that, that....I have ambition. I have dreams.

I refuse to spend my time in a dead end job in a call centre.

But more and more, I'm afraid my dreams will only remain as such, that my writing has suffered and is suffering, and I've lost my mojo, and the ability to express. I just want to be given a chance, I feel like I'm fighting a hopeless fight. My actions sometimes indicate I've given up, but no, I haven't and I won't. I can't. I just want to eke out a life for myself, to find meaning to my life, here.

And once I give up, I give up the expectations, hopes and dreams of not only myself, but of those I love and cherish. But the self-doubts question whether I deserve chances at all. Have I worked hard enough to go where I want to be.

Secretly, maybe the answer is no.