Monday, December 28, 2009

Soon Coming

This is my New Year Countdown.

Can’t actually believe there’s only three days left of 2009. New Year has always been a big deal to me. Some say that it’s just another day, another tomorrow. What’s with the big celebration? You live like you have today and get through another 365 days.But that's just it, on a personal level, it denotes a milestone of life. Another year. Yesterdays to learn from and tomorrows to look forward to.

I may not celebrate it on a grand scale, no fireworks, no parties, no jumping around screaming Happy New Year but I do try to welcome a new year on a more subtle gesture. Dinner with closest friends, road trips with my sisters and sometimes just a round of teh tarik at the nearest mamak.

New Years are always a big deal to me, it’s a reflection of what I have achieved, of what there is still to achieve, of what I have gained and of what I have lost.

This year, I’m counting down the New Year with a twist. Some sort of a compilation perhaps. If not for anything else, it is for me at least to remember and reflect of where I had been this 2009. You have to know where you’ve been, to know where you’re going.

A little reminder for me, of the naked truth, the good and promises of The Future.

Now, let’s just hope that I can actually stick to the promised three day writing.

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Be Still




I didn’t mean to feel this way for you and I don’t quite understand why I’m feeling it and you have to trust me, I don’t want to feel this way, particularly for someone like you, who I know I can’t have. Definitely can’t have.

But the heart just won’t listen. Do you know that I catch my breath at the very sight of you? Even now, when I am at home, the thought of you makes my heart beat a little faster and I tend to forget to breathe, for a moment or two.

My friends say that this too shall pass, that what I feel for you would slowly diminish, and be forgotten and perhaps I would laugh myself silly, one day in the future, remembering how I felt for you. I’m slowly counting the days, when my heart someday, might stop trying to jump out of my chest whenever I see you.

I’m hoping that the moment will come soon not because I don’t like you, but because I like you too much. Too much that it hurts..

Would it be too much if I say that I want you. Yes, I want you.

And do you know what else, I realize that..and I don’t think that..
I can't live in a world where you don’t exist. Yes, as corny as that may sound. -New Moon-

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Perhaps

He grasped my hand in a firm welcoming handshake. I stopped breathing. My heart was all over the place.

My days are never quite the same again.

No, I am not going to say that I finally found my purpose in living because I have always known as to why I was breathing.

But…

He will perhaps make my days a little bit interesting.

He will perhaps make my heart go into cardiac arrest at every sight of him.

Whatever the perhaps will be…I look forward to each and every perhaps.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Hello?

A rainy Monday evening after work, over a hot chocolate drink at the Old Town Kopitiam in One Utama with a friend whom I haven't seen in quite a while, debating on why I should join the elite (?) club of Blackberry users when I suddenly realized that he was without a cell phone.  I asked him where his phone was since he had to call me from a public phone, and I haven't had anyone calling me from a public phone since like forever. He said he lost it and made a comment that life is less stressful when it isn't easy to be reached which left me pondering... have we become easily assessable to the point that sometimes, without realizing, it's suffocating and taking a toll on our lives?

I sleep with my cell phone. I believe that most of us do. I don't turn it off unless the battery goes dead in the middle of the night (which is like never) . The first thing I reach for every morning is my cell phone and I check whether there are any text messages or missed calls. I bring it in with me to meetings, the cinema, and sometimes, though I hate to admit this, the bathroom, you know, just in case I wouldn’t miss that important phone call (iyolah tu).  Slowly, without realizing it, I had let the phone take control of me.It had gotten to a point when one day, I felt like life would be so much better if I wasn't so easily accessible.

I have had colleagues calling me on my sick days and while I was on holidays. Wasn't the point of taking an MC and taking leave was so that you can stay home and not be bothered with work?

I screen my calls. Yes, guilty as charged.

A few people has also had the nerve to actually scream down the line demanding to know as to why I wasn't picking up their calls. Funny thing is, the last time I checked, I was the only one paying for my phone bill. You can ask, nicely,  but don’t demand an answer from me because with you screaming your head off is an invitation for me to press the End button while rolling my eyes and vowing and making a mental note never to pick up when your number appears again.

But then again, I feel that life wouldn’t be complete without my cell phone with me at all times. I would feel so lost. Like Mary losing one of her lambs. *sigh*

Call me. On my cell. I’m available. 24/7. Unless I’m screening my calls.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Hello?

A rainy Monday evening after work, over a hot chocolate drink at the Old Town Kopitiam in One Utama with a friend whom I haven't seen in quite a while, debating on why I should join the elite (?) club of Blackberry users when I suddenly realized that he was without a cell phone.  I asked him where his phone was since he had to call me from a public phone, and I haven't had anyone calling me from a public phone since like forever. He said he lost it and made a comment that life is less stressful when it isn't easy to be reached which left me pondering... have we become easily assessable to the point that sometimes, without realizing, it's suffocating and taking a toll on our lives?

I sleep with my cell phone. I believe that most of us do. I don't turn it off unless the battery goes dead in the middle of the night (which is like never) . The first thing I reach for every morning is my cell phone and I check whether there are any text messages or missed calls. I bring it in with me to meetings, the cinema, and sometimes, though I hate to admit this, the bathroom, you know, just in case I wouldn’t miss that important phone call (iyolah tu).  Slowly, without realizing it, I had let the phone take control of me.It had gotten to a point when one day, I felt like life would be so much better if I wasn't so easily accessible.

I have had colleagues calling me on my sick days and while I was on holidays. Wasn't the point of taking an MC and taking leave was so that you can stay home and not be bothered with work?

I screen my calls. Yes, guilty as charged.

A few people has also had the nerve to actually scream down the line demanding to know as to why I wasn't picking up their calls. Funny thing is, the last time I checked, I was the only one paying for my phone bill. You can ask, nicely,  but don’t demand an answer from me because with you screaming your head off is an invitation for me to press the End button while rolling my eyes and vowing and making a mental note never to pick up when your number appears again.

But then again, I feel that life wouldn’t be complete without my cell phone with me at all times. I would feel so lost. Like Mary losing one of her lambs. *sigh*

Call me. On my cell. I’m available. 24/7. Unless I’m screening my calls.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Confession.

54740432_b389890ecc

I have a secret. I hate the fact that I can’t talk about it and that I have to keep it far far away hidden in the deep recesses of my mind,  but I have to because I have a feeling that nobody would quite understand why I did what I did.

Now all I need is an eraser, or perhaps a delete button that could work in real life.

That would be so much easier now wouldn’t it.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Confession.

54740432_b389890ecc

I have a secret. I hate the fact that I can’t talk about it and that I have to keep it far far away hidden in the deep recesses of my mind,  but I have to because I have a feeling that nobody would quite understand why I did what I did.

Now all I need is an eraser, or perhaps a delete button that could work in real life.

That would be so much easier now wouldn’t it.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Singing to a Different Tune

I’ll be singing to the tunes of Malaysia Truly Asia come this 7th of December 2009.

Yes! A new environment, a new place, new faces and… a new career.Terrified? That I am. Leaving the confines of my comfort zone in search of something that would make all the mornings more meaningful.

"The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become."

I am leaving behind a sense of security, a worry free life of knowing that I won’t be losing my job, and if I did fumble and tumble, it would be like moving a mountain to remove me from the system. I am leaving all that. Pension, golden handshakes and the likes of it.  Scary..yes. To me at least. It is something like wanting out of a perfect marriage to be with somebody to which my future with him is uncertain.

The decision did not come without its fair share of endless tossing and turning at night, long phone calls and streams of text messages were exchanged with a lot of  people. Some were supportive, some skeptical. I understand their concern, and I appreciate them all the more for it. 

A lot of people said a lot of things but most of them were excited for me on this new journey that I’m about to take.  But the most significant advice was a simple text from somebody I’ve known for years but have never met. It said;

Each person’s life is lead differently, so you have to decide based on how yours is going or the direction its heading.

I know that I want my life to be heading in a different direction as to where it is right now. I’m leaping, and I hope that I’ll land somewhere solid because I know, if I don’t take that leap, I’ll always be wondering about the what if’s. And I don’t want to wander, I want to find out.

But I have faith. Faith that this would all lead to something bigger and better. 

Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase. – Martin Luther King

Here’s to a wonderful beginning of this new chapter in my life.

Thursday, November 19, 2009

Singing to a Different Tune

I’ll be singing to the tunes of Malaysia Truly Asia come this 7th of December 2009.

Yes! A new environment, a new place, new faces and… a new career.Terrified? That I am. Leaving the confines of my comfort zone in search of something that would make all the mornings more meaningful.

"The important thing is this: To be able at any moment to sacrifice what we are for what we could become."

I am leaving behind a sense of security, a worry free life of knowing that I won’t be losing my job, and if I did fumble and tumble, it would be like moving a mountain to remove me from the system. I am leaving all that. Pension, golden handshakes and the likes of it.  Scary..yes. To me at least. It is something like wanting out of a perfect marriage to be with somebody to which my future with him is uncertain.

The decision did not come without its fair share of endless tossing and turning at night, long phone calls and streams of text messages were exchanged with a lot of  people. Some were supportive, some skeptical. I understand their concern, and I appreciate them all the more for it. 

A lot of people said a lot of things but most of them were excited for me on this new journey that I’m about to take.  But the most significant advice was a simple text from somebody I’ve known for years but have never met. It said;

Each person’s life is lead differently, so you have to decide based on how yours is going or the direction its heading.

I know that I want my life to be heading in a different direction as to where it is right now. I’m leaping, and I hope that I’ll land somewhere solid because I know, if I don’t take that leap, I’ll always be wondering about the what if’s. And I don’t want to wander, I want to find out.

But I have faith. Faith that this would all lead to something bigger and better. 

Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase. – Martin Luther King

Here’s to a wonderful beginning of this new chapter in my life.

Friday, November 6, 2009

A case of a Sore Bum

It started off with a mild fever on Friday which escalated to severe and excruciating menstrual cramps which left me sleepless for 4 nights in a row and ended with a discovery of an 11cm fibroid in my uterus.

The first gynae that I went to had the tactical diplomacy of a communist when delivering my diagnosis.

Doctor:

You have fibroid. It’s big. It’s covering your whole uterus.

Cinta: Ok..so what should I do?
Doctor:

I recommend surgery. You have two options miss. One is we only take out the fibroid but there is always the possibility that it will come back again. The second option which I strongly recommend is we take out your uterus along with the fibroid. Then be rest assured that  the fibroids won’t be coming back. But you can never have kids.

Cinta: My uterus? But I’m not married yet.
Doctor: Yes but it’s the only way to make sure that the fibroid won’t come back.

I swear I must’ve stopped breathing and the whole world just went blank all of a sudden. After telling him that I need to discuss it with my family and paying RM160 just to hear him deliver the bad news not so tactfully, I went into my car, called a friend and bawled my eyes out! I was scared. I was terrified. I didn’t even know what a fibroid is. So there I was, by the side of the road, bawling and wailing my eyeballs out. Sangat drama swasta I tell you.

This is the part where I ask you “Are you covered by insurance?” because seriously thank god I am. At least, for now, the financial part of this whole drama will not be an issue.

After the whole drama by the side of the road died down, I sought to seek a second opinion. Dr. Premithra from Pantai Medical. Dr. Premithra made much more sense. She patiently took the time to explain what was going on. She even sketched out the fibroid and what it was doing to my uterus. Because of the size of the fibroid, it has overlapped itself with my uterus and pushed my uterus lower. To be performing surgery now would mean that she would have to cut off part of my uterus but she does not want to do that seeing that I’m still single. I will be able to get pregnant when I marry but giving birth naturally would be a bit risky she said, seeing that my uterus would be weak. Caesarean it is then.

Surgery is unavoidable, but she’s going to try to shrink it first by injection to maybe 8cm  and when it shrinks, I would be scheduled for surgery in 2 months. In the meantime, I would be experiencing all the symptoms of menopause, Hot flashes,night sweats, fatigue, dizziness etc.

A dose of injection which is costly. I have chemicals and drugs flowing inside me worth RM1300. Satu injection yang berharga RM1300.

As I’m typing this out, the left cheek of my bum is sore from the injection today. But you didn’t need to know that now did ya? :)

My point is this and it goes to all the beautiful ladies who reads this. When your body is showing signs that something is not right ie, irregular menses, severe menstrual cramps, anything which is out of the norm, don’t be me and overlook it and say that it’s probably just nothing. Get yourself a physical exam with a good doctor. Do your (BSE) Breast Self Examination  once a month. It would cost you for being ignorant to what your body is trying to tell you.  Eat right and don’t see the gynae that I first went to!

Thursday, November 5, 2009

A case of a Sore Bum

It started off with a mild fever on Friday which escalated to severe and excruciating menstrual cramps which left me sleepless for 4 nights in a row and ended with a discovery of an 11cm fibroid in my uterus.

The first gynae that I went to had the tactical diplomacy of a communist when delivering my diagnosis.

Doctor:

You have fibroid. It’s big. It’s covering your whole uterus.

Cinta: Ok..so what should I do?
Doctor:

I recommend surgery. You have two options miss. One is we only take out the fibroid but there is always the possibility that it will come back again. The second option which I strongly recommend is we take out your uterus along with the fibroid. Then be rest assured that  the fibroids won’t be coming back. But you can never have kids.

Cinta: My uterus? But I’m not married yet.
Doctor: Yes but it’s the only way to make sure that the fibroid won’t come back.

I swear I must’ve stopped breathing and the whole world just went blank all of a sudden. After telling him that I need to discuss it with my family and paying RM160 just to hear him deliver the bad news not so tactfully, I went into my car, called a friend and bawled my eyes out! I was scared. I was terrified. I didn’t even know what a fibroid is. So there I was, by the side of the road, bawling and wailing my eyeballs out. Sangat drama swasta I tell you.

This is the part where I ask you “Are you covered by insurance?” because seriously thank god I am. At least, for now, the financial part of this whole drama will not be an issue.

After the whole drama by the side of the road died down, I sought to seek a second opinion. Dr. Premithra from Pantai Medical. Dr. Premithra made much more sense. She patiently took the time to explain what was going on. She even sketched out the fibroid and what it was doing to my uterus. Because of the size of the fibroid, it has overlapped itself with my uterus and pushed my uterus lower. To be performing surgery now would mean that she would have to cut off part of my uterus but she does not want to do that seeing that I’m still single. I will be able to get pregnant when I marry but giving birth naturally would be a bit risky she said, seeing that my uterus would be weak. Caesarean it is then.

Surgery is unavoidable, but she’s going to try to shrink it first by injection to maybe 8cm  and when it shrinks, I would be scheduled for surgery in 2 months. In the meantime, I would be experiencing all the symptoms of menopause, Hot flashes,night sweats, fatigue, dizziness etc.

A dose of injection which is costly. I have chemicals and drugs flowing inside me worth RM1300. Satu injection yang berharga RM1300.

As I’m typing this out, the left cheek of my bum is sore from the injection today. But you didn’t need to know that now did ya? :)

My point is this and it goes to all the beautiful ladies who reads this. When your body is showing signs that something is not right ie, irregular menses, severe menstrual cramps, anything which is out of the norm, don’t be me and overlook it and say that it’s probably just nothing. Get yourself a physical exam with a good doctor. Do your (BSE) Breast Self Examination  once a month. It would cost you for being ignorant to what your body is trying to tell you.  Eat right and don’t see the gynae that I first went to!

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Lines to be Drawn

It’s pouring heavily outside as I sit at my workstation and pretend to be working and writing something of utmost importance that would benefit the organization when in fact my mind is clearly thousands of miles away.

I like to listen to the sound of the pouring rain, accompanied by Johnny Tillotson’s  Rhythm Of The Rain.

I keep visualizing knots and lines. How do we know where to draw the line when there’s a very fine line in knowing where do draw the line?

Do you get what I’m saying? Let’s just pretend that  you do.

Can I share a story with you on this rainy Tuesday afternoon where the rain is pouring outside and you wish you could just jump silly and try to catch the rain? I wish I could.

There is a story that is going through my mind right now. A story where the husband brought his girlfriend into his marital  home during a time when the wife was back in their hometown. It was also a story where the husband went away to UK for a month and took his girlfriend with him, leaving his wife and their 3 kids, the youngest one being only 6 months old, high in an apartment, where if you stand on the balcony of this said particular apartment,  you can see the twin towers and a highway with a steady stream of cars inching along ever so slowly.

This story is laced with bitter anecdotes of the husband telling his wife that she hasn’t been a good mother to their children, that home for him became hell and that was the reason why he needed to seek solace in the arms and comforts of a girl he met in a karaoke lounge. There was a short chapter in the story where the husband had one of his friends to give the wife a call and tell her that he is acting upon instructions given by the husband which is to look for an apartment to be ready upon his return from the UK. He is moving out but he doesn’t want out, yet. Or perhaps he does?

I keep thinking of this story. I ask myself, where should the lines be drawn? You see, I might have differing views because I am simply looking at it from a single girl in KL’s point of view. My views are simple, hurt me and lose me. But that would not be practical now would it? Because obviously marriage needs a lot more work than that. A lot more sacrifice you say, bucket load of tears. Think of the children you say. I wouldn’t know..because I am not married some say therefore I can’t be objective about it.

But then again, I’m thinking that I don’t need to be married to know that I don’t deserve to be treated like scum, or worse  like a  fungus. The fungus the feeds upon the scum.

Then please, do pray tell, because I haven’t got a clue, if I was playing the wife in the story, where do I draw the line? Or maybe there is no line to be drawn? I should just embrace the bitterness and fight for what is mine to begin with?

Fight until all dignity and pride is drained out?

Lines to be Drawn

It’s pouring heavily outside as I sit at my workstation and pretend to be working and writing something of utmost importance that would benefit the organization when in fact my mind is clearly thousands of miles away.

I like to listen to the sound of the pouring rain, accompanied by Johnny Tillotson’s  Rhythm Of The Rain.

I keep visualizing knots and lines. How do we know where to draw the line when there’s a very fine line in knowing where do draw the line?

Do you get what I’m saying? Let’s just pretend that  you do.

Can I share a story with you on this rainy Tuesday afternoon where the rain is pouring outside and you wish you could just jump silly and try to catch the rain? I wish I could.

There is a story that is going through my mind right now. A story where the husband brought his girlfriend into his marital  home during a time when the wife was back in their hometown. It was also a story where the husband went away to UK for a month and took his girlfriend with him, leaving his wife and their 3 kids, the youngest one being only 6 months old, high in an apartment, where if you stand on the balcony of this said particular apartment,  you can see the twin towers and a highway with a steady stream of cars inching along ever so slowly.

This story is laced with bitter anecdotes of the husband telling his wife that she hasn’t been a good mother to their children, that home for him became hell and that was the reason why he needed to seek solace in the arms and comforts of a girl he met in a karaoke lounge. There was a short chapter in the story where the husband had one of his friends to give the wife a call and tell her that he is acting upon instructions given by the husband which is to look for an apartment to be ready upon his return from the UK. He is moving out but he doesn’t want out, yet. Or perhaps he does?

I keep thinking of this story. I ask myself, where should the lines be drawn? You see, I might have differing views because I am simply looking at it from a single girl in KL’s point of view. My views are simple, hurt me and lose me. But that would not be practical now would it? Because obviously marriage needs a lot more work than that. A lot more sacrifice you say, bucket load of tears. Think of the children you say. I wouldn’t know..because I am not married some say therefore I can’t be objective about it.

But then again, I’m thinking that I don’t need to be married to know that I don’t deserve to be treated like scum, or worse  like a  fungus. The fungus the feeds upon the scum.

Then please, do pray tell, because I haven’t got a clue, if I was playing the wife in the story, where do I draw the line? Or maybe there is no line to be drawn? I should just embrace the bitterness and fight for what is mine to begin with?

Fight until all dignity and pride is drained out?

Monday, October 26, 2009

Soul Food

I love Sunday mornings. They make me think of steaming hot mugs of coffee, with the sweet smell of roasted coffee beans waftng through the air, it also reminds me of rainy mornings, another reason to snuggle deeper in the duvet and just lie there listening to the tapping sounds of the rain on your roof.

I quite like driving into KL on an early Sunday morning. The roads would be clear and everything would just slow down.

I love Sunday morning breakfast. It’s the only day in the week when I don’t wolf down my meal hoping to beat the time. Sunday morning breakfast are meant to be savored and enjoyed.

This particular Sunday morning was spent in the company of a very dear friend and her daughter at The Apartment in KLCC. I’ve had not one but two disastrous experiences with the above mentioned restaurant. Previously, the food was bland, it was too fusion for my liking and the portions were small.  The only thing that  I liked about The Apartment was the decor. Urban style living with a touch of vintage. Thus that became the sole reason why a third trip was planned a few days in advance, we were both looking for a place with an ambience, plus I needed to arrange an event with them and I had to go discuss a few things.

I was browsing through the menu skeptically, biding my time, afraid of ordering knowing that I would probably hate it,with one of the chefs seated across from me. I think he knew what was going through my mind when he subtly mentioned that the menu has undergone a revamp with new items on the list. 

I think my friend and I both looked so relieved that the chef chuckled and even suggested a few must try items. 

I know what we ordered was definitely not breakfast food, but they didn’t have a breakfast menu. So we did the next best thing that we could do, have brunch. I think it was in fact just another excuse for us to gorge ourselves by saying we deserved it after a hard week at work. Cheh!

I remember ooh-ing and aahhh-ing over their Codfish with Aioli with a generous serving of mash potato and a single snow pea as the garnish. The fish was succulent, the skin crispy with subtle tastes of herbs. Trust me, it is very the sedap.

apt2

What I ordered was actually their Steak Sandwich. You can have the option of with or without melted cheddar cheese on top of the steak. I went without, but I think that the sandwich would have tasted better with the cheese. The Steak Sandwich comes with chips and 3 rings of onion rings and a layer of watercress in between the meat and the bread. The Steak Sandwich would leave you feeling full.

  apt4

My dear friend codename Puan Sri had a serving of their  Lambshank with potato wedges on the side. The meat was tender and juicy with a distinct flavor of rosemary.

apt3

Dessert was a recommendation from the chef. Eton Mess, a combination of meringue, strawberry, strawberry caulis and vanilla cream. The whole combination was served chilled, tower like with the stream of strawberry caulis running all over the meringue and cream, finished with sprinkles of strawberries on top. Sorry guys, no picture for this one. I was so absorbed in enjoying my dessert that I forgot to take pictures.

This time around, I’m singing nothing but praises for the food at The Apartment in KLCC. Definitely worth waking up on a lazy Sunday morning.

And so, I adore my Sunday breakfast retreats. It’s one of those moments when you get to take a break, sit down, savor the food and the most important element of all, share a few laughs with those that matter.

Am looking forward to my next Sunday breakfast.

p/s: Click on the pictures to enlarge

Soul Food

I love Sunday mornings. They make me think of steaming hot mugs of coffee, with the sweet smell of roasted coffee beans waftng through the air, it also reminds me of rainy mornings, another reason to snuggle deeper in the duvet and just lie there listening to the tapping sounds of the rain on your roof.

I quite like driving into KL on an early Sunday morning. The roads would be clear and everything would just slow down.

I love Sunday morning breakfast. It’s the only day in the week when I don’t wolf down my meal hoping to beat the time. Sunday morning breakfast are meant to be savored and enjoyed.

This particular Sunday morning was spent in the company of a very dear friend and her daughter at The Apartment in KLCC. I’ve had not one but two disastrous experiences with the above mentioned restaurant. Previously, the food was bland, it was too fusion for my liking and the portions were small.  The only thing that  I liked about The Apartment was the decor. Urban style living with a touch of vintage. Thus that became the sole reason why a third trip was planned a few days in advance, we were both looking for a place with an ambience, plus I needed to arrange an event with them and I had to go discuss a few things.

I was browsing through the menu skeptically, biding my time, afraid of ordering knowing that I would probably hate it,with one of the chefs seated across from me. I think he knew what was going through my mind when he subtly mentioned that the menu has undergone a revamp with new items on the list. 

I think my friend and I both looked so relieved that the chef chuckled and even suggested a few must try items. 

I know what we ordered was definitely not breakfast food, but they didn’t have a breakfast menu. So we did the next best thing that we could do, have brunch. I think it was in fact just another excuse for us to gorge ourselves by saying we deserved it after a hard week at work. Cheh!

I remember ooh-ing and aahhh-ing over their Codfish with Aioli with a generous serving of mash potato and a single snow pea as the garnish. The fish was succulent, the skin crispy with subtle tastes of herbs. Trust me, it is very the sedap.

apt2

What I ordered was actually their Steak Sandwich. You can have the option of with or without melted cheddar cheese on top of the steak. I went without, but I think that the sandwich would have tasted better with the cheese. The Steak Sandwich comes with chips and 3 rings of onion rings and a layer of watercress in between the meat and the bread. The Steak Sandwich would leave you feeling full.

  apt4

My dear friend codename Puan Sri had a serving of their  Lambshank with potato wedges on the side. The meat was tender and juicy with a distinct flavor of rosemary.

apt3

Dessert was a recommendation from the chef. Eton Mess, a combination of meringue, strawberry, strawberry caulis and vanilla cream. The whole combination was served chilled, tower like with the stream of strawberry caulis running all over the meringue and cream, finished with sprinkles of strawberries on top. Sorry guys, no picture for this one. I was so absorbed in enjoying my dessert that I forgot to take pictures.

This time around, I’m singing nothing but praises for the food at The Apartment in KLCC. Definitely worth waking up on a lazy Sunday morning.

And so, I adore my Sunday breakfast retreats. It’s one of those moments when you get to take a break, sit down, savor the food and the most important element of all, share a few laughs with those that matter.

Am looking forward to my next Sunday breakfast.

p/s: Click on the pictures to enlarge

Friday, October 23, 2009

Wishin & Hopin

Been playing the song in my head, repeatedly.

Here’s to every hope and every wish…Have a good weekend.

You are forever and always in my thought and in my prayers.

Wishin & Hopin

Been playing the song in my head, repeatedly.

Here’s to every hope and every wish…Have a good weekend.

You are forever and always in my thought and in my prayers.

Dia Garang Sangat





Abah saya adalah seorang yang sangat garang. Tahap kegarangan dia kadangkala tidak tercapai dek akal. Dia sangat garang. Tapi dengan kawan kawan dia boleh bergelak ketawa, bergurau senda.

Abah garang sangat. Dulu jarang berbual dengan abah. Bukan jarang, tapi tak pernah. Masa sekolah dulu, kalau hari sekolah, abah tak bagi keluar dari pagar rumah. Kawan kawan kalau datang rumah tak boleh naik atas masuk bilik.  Betis kalau tak berbirat tak sah, tiap tiap minggu mesti ada je sebab kena rotan dengan abah. Abah dulu lagi percaya cakap orang dari cakap anak dia sendiri. Pernah sekali kena rotan and pukul dengan abah sebab ada seorang makcik ni mengadu kat abah saya jumpa budak lelaki belakang kedai. Sumpah lillah abah, malam tu memang saya tak keluar mana mana pun. Sedih sangat masa tu.

Percaya tak kalau saya cakap saya pernah kena tumbuk dengan abah sebab mengaji alif ba ta tak pandai pandai masa dia mengajar. Abah patience level dia mengajar anak anak sangat rendah, so lepas dari itu, abah panggil ustaz datang rumah ajar mengaji. 

Masa keputusan SPM keluar, rasa menggigil lutut nak beritahu abah yang saya dapat pangkat 2. Beritahu mak je, sebab nanti mak yang akan jadi the bearer of bad news to abah. Ingat lagi hari tu, hujan renyai renyai, senja, abah baru balik kerja. Dia masuk bilik terus mintak buku UPU. Dalam sepuluh minit lepas tu, dia masuk balik bilik saya and dengan garangnya campak buku UPU and marah marah sebab kalau nak ikutkan result, memang tak layak nak apply mana mana universiti pun.

But I got in. Abah lupa anak abah english berabuk. Masa tu la…rezeki, alhamdulillah.

Masuk universiti 5 tahun. Dari matrix sampai ke degree. Tapi kena mengaku, masa belajar saya main main. Sibuk bercinta, assignment selalu lambat siap. Tapi percaya tak kalau saya cakap English spoken and written saya lagi dasyat daripada those yang bergraduat dengat first class honours. Hari konvokesyen, abah datang. Tapi masa duduk, abah terbaca dalam buku program yang nama anak dia yang sorang ni dalam column third class honours. Tapi still honors ya…abah marah sangat. Marah and malu. Abah terus keluar dari Dewan and tak tengok pun anak dia yang sorang ni bergraduat. Kawan kawan lain sibuk pergi studio gambar dengan keluarga masing masing pakai jubah pegang scroll and backdrop dia mesti rak buku. Tapi saya tak, satu gambar studio pun tak ada. Yang ada gambar pakai jubah adalah dua tiga keping yang sempat ambik dengan kawan kawan.

Tapi…

Dalam garang garang abah…saya tahu abah sayang saya.

Masa kecik kecik dulu, sampailah ke sekolah menengah, kalau abah tahu saya demam, balik dari kerja abah mesti terus masuk bilik, rasa dahi and bawak pergi klinik.

Dulu masa darjah 2-3, saya suka tertidur depan tv. Tapi nanti abah yang akan angkat saya naik bilik masuk tidur. Mesti nak patah pinggang abah rasanya kan, ye la dah darjah 2-3, bukannya kecik lagi. Mak pernah cerita, masa saya baru baru masuk universiti, the first few nights abah mengigau, mengigau panggil mak saya suruh bukak pagar sebab saya balik.

Dulu masa sekolah, keluarga saya bukan dari keluarga yang senang. Walaupun abah seorang PTD masa tu. KFC cuma makan sebulan sekali, masa abah baru dapat gaji. Ingat lagi, baju baru dapat rasa setahun sekali je, masa Hari Raya. Abah dulu masa nak belikan baju raya, abah guna kredit kad. Baru beberapa hari lepas mak cerita, masa tu abah tak ada duit nak belanja, terpaksa guna kredit kad. Rasa sayu tiba tiba.

Masa saya dalam final semester and going through practical training, saya ada seorang lecturer yang sangat psycho. Dia tuduh saya tak bertanggungjawab sebab saya tak beritahu dia hari Isnin tu saya cuti. Saya bukan tak beritahu, saya dah call, dia tak angkat, saya tinggalkan voicemail tapi dia tak check. Masa tu mana ada handphone lagi. Saya kena berjalan pergi cari public phone. Lecturer tu maki hamun saya, cakap saya bloody idiot and stupid bitch, and she made my pratical training a living hell. Dia failkan saya, and I actually had to repeat a whole semester, sepatutnya lah. Tapi abah saya tolong saya, he taught me to fight my case. He made me go see the Vice Chancellor, he even wrote my case proposal for me. Abah even to the extent tolong call lecturer saya tu ajak jumpa and discuss.  Baik kan abah saya. Bila fikir balik, kesian abah saya, mesti dia susah hati masa tu.  Dalam marah marah abah sebab saya graduate dengan third class honors, tapi bila tahu first posting saya adalah di Hulu Yam, abah ambil cuti and hantar saya ke sana. Abah and emak yang sibuk carikan rumah sewa. Abah yang tolong cuci rumah. Tebas lalang keliling rumah. Abah belikan set bilik tidur lengkap untuk saya masa tu. Sampai sekarang saya guna lagi set tu. Sentimental values for me.

Abah bukan seorang yang ekspresif, seumur hidup saya, tak pernah dengar dia kata yang dia sayangkan saya. Tapi sekarang baru saya faham, sebab saya pun macam dia juga sampai ramai ex-boyfriend saya breakup dengan saya sebab diorang kata saya tak ekspresif. Saya memang tak akan say it verbally or in words, susah sangat, but I do show it through the things I do, macam abah saya. Dia akan buat apa saja untuk menggembirakan hati anak anak dia.

Itu abah saya, dia garang sangat. But I do know that he loves me in his own way yang susah sangat untuk difahami.

p/s; This post was inspired after watching the movie PAPADOM. I strongly recommend you go and watch.

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Dia Garang Sangat

Abah saya adalah seorang yang sangat garang. Tahap kegarangan dia kadangkala tidak tercapai dek akal. Dia sangat garang. Tapi dengan kawan kawan dia boleh bergelak ketawa, bergurau senda.

Abah garang sangat. Dulu jarang berbual dengan abah. Bukan jarang, tapi tak pernah. Masa sekolah dulu, kalau hari sekolah, abah tak bagi keluar dari pagar rumah. Kawan kawan kalau datang rumah tak boleh naik atas masuk bilik.  Betis kalau tak berbirat tak sah, tiap tiap minggu mesti ada je sebab kena rotan dengan abah. Abah dulu lagi percaya cakap orang dari cakap anak dia sendiri. Pernah sekali kena rotan and pukul dengan abah sebab ada seorang makcik ni mengadu kat abah saya jumpa budak lelaki belakang kedai. Sumpah lillah abah, malam tu memang saya tak keluar mana mana pun. Sedih sangat masa tu.

Percaya tak kalau saya cakap saya pernah kena tumbuk dengan abah sebab mengaji alif ba ta tak pandai pandai masa dia mengajar. Abah patience level dia mengajar anak anak sangat rendah, so lepas dari itu, abah panggil ustaz datang rumah ajar mengaji. 

Masa keputusan SPM keluar, rasa menggigil lutut nak beritahu abah yang saya dapat pangkat 2. Beritahu mak je, sebab nanti mak yang akan jadi the bearer of bad news to abah. Ingat lagi hari tu, hujan renyai renyai, senja, abah baru balik kerja. Dia masuk bilik terus mintak buku UPU. Dalam sepuluh minit lepas tu, dia masuk balik bilik saya and dengan garangnya campak buku UPU and marah marah sebab kalau nak ikutkan result, memang tak layak nak apply mana mana universiti pun.

But I got in. Abah lupa anak abah english berabuk. Masa tu la…rezeki, alhamdulillah.

Masuk universiti 5 tahun. Dari matrix sampai ke degree. Tapi kena mengaku, masa belajar saya main main. Sibuk bercinta, assignment selalu lambat siap. Tapi percaya tak kalau saya cakap English spoken and written saya lagi dasyat daripada those yang bergraduat dengat first class honours. Hari konvokesyen, abah datang. Tapi masa duduk, abah terbaca dalam buku program yang nama anak dia yang sorang ni dalam column third class honours. Tapi still honors ya…abah marah sangat. Marah and malu. Abah terus keluar dari Dewan and tak tengok pun anak dia yang sorang ni bergraduat. Kawan kawan lain sibuk pergi studio gambar dengan keluarga masing masing pakai jubah pegang scroll and backdrop dia mesti rak buku. Tapi saya tak, satu gambar studio pun tak ada. Yang ada gambar pakai jubah adalah dua tiga keping yang sempat ambik dengan kawan kawan.

Tapi…

Dalam garang garang abah…saya tahu abah sayang saya.

Masa kecik kecik dulu, sampailah ke sekolah menengah, kalau abah tahu saya demam, balik dari kerja abah mesti terus masuk bilik, rasa dahi and bawak pergi klinik.

Dulu masa darjah 2-3, saya suka tertidur depan tv. Tapi nanti abah yang akan angkat saya naik bilik masuk tidur. Mesti nak patah pinggang abah rasanya kan, ye la dah darjah 2-3, bukannya kecik lagi. Mak pernah cerita, masa saya baru baru masuk universiti, the first few nights abah mengigau, mengigau panggil mak saya suruh bukak pagar sebab saya balik.

Dulu masa sekolah, keluarga saya bukan dari keluarga yang senang. Walaupun abah seorang PTD masa tu. KFC cuma makan sebulan sekali, masa abah baru dapat gaji. Ingat lagi, baju baru dapat rasa setahun sekali je, masa Hari Raya. Abah dulu masa nak belikan baju raya, abah guna kredit kad. Baru beberapa hari lepas mak cerita, masa tu abah tak ada duit nak belanja, terpaksa guna kredit kad. Rasa sayu tiba tiba.

Masa saya dalam final semester and going through practical training, saya ada seorang lecturer yang sangat psycho. Dia tuduh saya tak bertanggungjawab sebab saya tak beritahu dia hari Isnin tu saya cuti. Saya bukan tak beritahu, saya dah call, dia tak angkat, saya tinggalkan voicemail tapi dia tak check. Masa tu mana ada handphone lagi. Saya kena berjalan pergi cari public phone. Lecturer tu maki hamun saya, cakap saya bloody idiot and stupid bitch, and she made my pratical training a living hell. Dia failkan saya, and I actually had to repeat a whole semester, sepatutnya lah. Tapi abah saya tolong saya, he taught me to fight my case. He made me go see the Vice Chancellor, he even wrote my case proposal for me. Abah even to the extent tolong call lecturer saya tu ajak jumpa and discuss.  Baik kan abah saya. Bila fikir balik, kesian abah saya, mesti dia susah hati masa tu.  Dalam marah marah abah sebab saya graduate dengan third class honors, tapi bila tahu first posting saya adalah di Hulu Yam, abah ambil cuti and hantar saya ke sana. Abah and emak yang sibuk carikan rumah sewa. Abah yang tolong cuci rumah. Tebas lalang keliling rumah. Abah belikan set bilik tidur lengkap untuk saya masa tu. Sampai sekarang saya guna lagi set tu. Sentimental values for me.

Abah bukan seorang yang ekspresif, seumur hidup saya, tak pernah dengar dia kata yang dia sayangkan saya. Tapi sekarang baru saya faham, sebab saya pun macam dia juga sampai ramai ex-boyfriend saya breakup dengan saya sebab diorang kata saya tak ekspresif. Saya memang tak akan say it verbally or in words, susah sangat, but I do show it through the things I do, macam abah saya. Dia akan buat apa saja untuk menggembirakan hati anak anak dia.

Itu abah saya, dia garang sangat. But I do know that he loves me in his own way yang susah sangat untuk difahami.

p/s; This post was inspired after watching the movie PAPADOM. I strongly recommend you go and watch.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Type, Backspace.

Sometimes we all need a little push here and a shove there to get going again.  Thank you for the gentle email prodding I received. I humbly thank you Tata of the Hills. I have to warn you though, I may be a tad bit rusty here and there, I need a few practice runs.

Would you believe me if I say I’m out of stories to tell?

I type out a few words, a few sentences then I hit the Backspace button. I stare off into space, type out a few words, a few sentences and hit the Backspace button yet again. I keep on repeating this a few more times. Type, backspace.Type, backspace. Then I stare at the curtains hanging in my room.

I suddenly remember that my passport needs to be renewed. Immigration was nice enough to mail me two reminders. Not that you needed to know all that.

I need to date again. Yes, a date. A girl, a boy and dinner. Haven’t been to one of those in quite some time. The last boy I went out with was Pak Syed and I don’t think Pak Syed accounts as a date.

Ohhh! I just remembered. I’ve been meaning to blog about this one particular  issue for quite some time. But tonight is not the night because my lappy is about to die down on me and I’ve made myself too comfy on the bed to get up and get the charger. :))

Be seeing ya tomorrow with an update. Good night now. Mimpi yang indah indah.

Type, Backspace.

Sometimes we all need a little push here and a shove there to get going again.  Thank you for the gentle email prodding I received. I humbly thank you Tata of the Hills. I have to warn you though, I may be a tad bit rusty here and there, I need a few practice runs.

Would you believe me if I say I’m out of stories to tell?

I type out a few words, a few sentences then I hit the Backspace button. I stare off into space, type out a few words, a few sentences and hit the Backspace button yet again. I keep on repeating this a few more times. Type, backspace.Type, backspace. Then I stare at the curtains hanging in my room.

I suddenly remember that my passport needs to be renewed. Immigration was nice enough to mail me two reminders. Not that you needed to know all that.

I need to date again. Yes, a date. A girl, a boy and dinner. Haven’t been to one of those in quite some time. The last boy I went out with was Pak Syed and I don’t think Pak Syed accounts as a date.

Ohhh! I just remembered. I’ve been meaning to blog about this one particular  issue for quite some time. But tonight is not the night because my lappy is about to die down on me and I’ve made myself too comfy on the bed to get up and get the charger. :))

Be seeing ya tomorrow with an update. Good night now. Mimpi yang indah indah.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

Cobwebs and Such

I have been blogging. Numerous stories.This blog of mine has been updated every hour on the hour. No cobwebs or musty smells of abandonment here.

What? You disagree? Seriously? You don’t  see any updates? Look closer now. 

Owh..come now. Really? No updates at all? Maybe if you tried changing the font color perhaps? Or maybe something is seriously wrong with your monitor? Because I HAVE been updating. Please stress on the word HAVE.

I have been updating…updating entries in my mind and in my head :)

No? You can’t read my mind? I see…

You’re not psychic too? I was hoping you were…

I have to get back to blogging in the real world then. Thoughts to keyboard to monitor. And there I was, wondering why I haven’t been receiving any comments lately.

Now let’s see…how do I do this again? Blogging I mean. :) Just type? I see…I see...Now I remember…

You hang in there ok? Trying to get reacquainted with this typing out my thoughts again. 

Monday, October 19, 2009

Cobwebs and Such

I have been blogging. Numerous stories.This blog of mine has been updated every hour on the hour. No cobwebs or musty smells of abandonment here.

What? You disagree? Seriously? You don’t  see any updates? Look closer now. 

Owh..come now. Really? No updates at all? Maybe if you tried changing the font color perhaps? Or maybe something is seriously wrong with your monitor? Because I HAVE been updating. Please stress on the word HAVE.

I have been updating…updating entries in my mind and in my head :)

No? You can’t read my mind? I see…

You’re not psychic too? I was hoping you were…

I have to get back to blogging in the real world then. Thoughts to keyboard to monitor. And there I was, wondering why I haven’t been receiving any comments lately.

Now let’s see…how do I do this again? Blogging I mean. :) Just type? I see…I see...Now I remember…

You hang in there ok? Trying to get reacquainted with this typing out my thoughts again. 

Monday, October 5, 2009

Vote for Me

A little boy goes to his dad and asks, "What is politics?"
Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way: I'm the breadwinner of the family, so let's call me CAPITALISM. Your Mom, she's the administrator of the money, so we'll call her the GOVERNMENT. We're here to take care of your needs, so we'll call you the PEOPLE. The nanny, we'll consider her the WORKING CLASS. And your baby brother, we'll call him the FUTURE. Now, think about that and see if that makes sense,"


So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what dad had said.
Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parents' room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed.

The next morning, the little boy says to his father, "Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now."

The father says, "Good son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about."

The little boy replies, "Well, while CAPITALISM is screwing the WORKING CLASS, the GOVERNMENT is sound asleep, the PEOPLE are being ignored and the FUTURE is in deep poo."

Vote for Me

A little boy goes to his dad and asks, "What is politics?"
Dad says, "Well son, let me try to explain it this way: I'm the breadwinner of the family, so let's call me CAPITALISM. Your Mom, she's the administrator of the money, so we'll call her the GOVERNMENT. We're here to take care of your needs, so we'll call you the PEOPLE. The nanny, we'll consider her the WORKING CLASS. And your baby brother, we'll call him the FUTURE. Now, think about that and see if that makes sense,"


So the little boy goes off to bed thinking about what dad had said.
Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has severely soiled his diaper. So the little boy goes to his parents' room and finds his mother sound asleep. Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny's room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny. He gives up and goes back to bed.

The next morning, the little boy says to his father, "Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now."

The father says, "Good son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about."

The little boy replies, "Well, while CAPITALISM is screwing the WORKING CLASS, the GOVERNMENT is sound asleep, the PEOPLE are being ignored and the FUTURE is in deep poo."

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Selamat Hari Raya

hariraya Yes its that time of the year again...a time for forgiveness and for the past 7 years it has been the time of the year when my savings account dwindles faster than you can say " maaf zahir batin"due to my long list of little cousins waiting eagerly every raya morning for their " duit raya"*sigh* Each year, the list seems to only be getting longer. It only seemed like yesterday when I was on the receiving end :) which is much more fun.

At this age, I am no longer excited about the new baju kurung for raya or all the yummy raya spread (ketupat, rendang, lontong) Nowadays I hardly bother to buy anything new..mostly due to the time constraint and the thought of having to hustle in shopping complexes gives me nightmares. I used to have my mom to worry about all the buying etc...Now..I am just looking forward of going back to Johor to be with the whole crazy clan. Mi familia that is.. the sounds of the little ones yelling and screaming, running around the house on top of their lungs with their "sampin" halfway down to the knees and songkok tilted sideways with their kuih tat in one hand which on any other day would give me a massive headache but in the spirit of raya..I’ll let it slip :)

And of course, going back to Pontian for Hari Raya would not be complete with the subtle hints by relatives on either two things. Marriage and my weight. I pay tribute to distant relatives whom I only see once a year and each year without fail they would say " you have put on weight! diet la!" Ready, aim, shoot!

I still remember those days in school...waiting eagerly hoping that cute guy would send me a raya card :)And how can I ever forget that when you go for terawikh everynite..its mainly because you actually want to "main bunga api" with all ur friends in the compound of the mosque and its when the guys get to throw those mini firecrackers at you. I think it was one of those weird things guys do to show that they're interested in you :)

Now when my friends are spread all over the country, and I only hear from them occasionally but when a raya card creeps into the mailbox,I get all sentimental and mushy mushy inside because they still remember me. 

However, this year will be the first Raya that we will not not be going back to Pontian. No more driving around with my father and sisters in Pontian trying to kill time before buka. No more trying to sneak out and driving off to JB just to run away from the endless chores of dishwashing and  countless refills of the kuih raya and stirring kilo’s of sugar for drinks. We will be welcoming Syawal in KL this year. Grandmother is already here. It feels kind of weird though, this being not going back to Pontian for Hari Raya.

But wherever you will be celebrating your Hari Raya, Selamat Hari Raya dear friends..Maaf zahir batin..hope you'll have a good raya with your family. Drive safe you hear?

Selamat Hari Raya.

Selamat Hari Raya

hariraya Yes its that time of the year again...a time for forgiveness and for the past 7 years it has been the time of the year when my savings account dwindles faster than you can say " maaf zahir batin"due to my long list of little cousins waiting eagerly every raya morning for their " duit raya"*sigh* Each year, the list seems to only be getting longer. It only seemed like yesterday when I was on the receiving end :) which is much more fun.

At this age, I am no longer excited about the new baju kurung for raya or all the yummy raya spread (ketupat, rendang, lontong) Nowadays I hardly bother to buy anything new..mostly due to the time constraint and the thought of having to hustle in shopping complexes gives me nightmares. I used to have my mom to worry about all the buying etc...Now..I am just looking forward of going back to Johor to be with the whole crazy clan. Mi familia that is.. the sounds of the little ones yelling and screaming, running around the house on top of their lungs with their "sampin" halfway down to the knees and songkok tilted sideways with their kuih tat in one hand which on any other day would give me a massive headache but in the spirit of raya..I’ll let it slip :)

And of course, going back to Pontian for Hari Raya would not be complete with the subtle hints by relatives on either two things. Marriage and my weight. I pay tribute to distant relatives whom I only see once a year and each year without fail they would say " you have put on weight! diet la!" Ready, aim, shoot!

I still remember those days in school...waiting eagerly hoping that cute guy would send me a raya card :)And how can I ever forget that when you go for terawikh everynite..its mainly because you actually want to "main bunga api" with all ur friends in the compound of the mosque and its when the guys get to throw those mini firecrackers at you. I think it was one of those weird things guys do to show that they're interested in you :)

Now when my friends are spread all over the country, and I only hear from them occasionally but when a raya card creeps into the mailbox,I get all sentimental and mushy mushy inside because they still remember me. 

However, this year will be the first Raya that we will not not be going back to Pontian. No more driving around with my father and sisters in Pontian trying to kill time before buka. No more trying to sneak out and driving off to JB just to run away from the endless chores of dishwashing and  countless refills of the kuih raya and stirring kilo’s of sugar for drinks. We will be welcoming Syawal in KL this year. Grandmother is already here. It feels kind of weird though, this being not going back to Pontian for Hari Raya.

But wherever you will be celebrating your Hari Raya, Selamat Hari Raya dear friends..Maaf zahir batin..hope you'll have a good raya with your family. Drive safe you hear?

Selamat Hari Raya.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Que Sera Sera

First and foremost, I am not Cik Normah. Tang mana did I hint that I am Cik Normah?  Cik Normah is a columnist from Berita Harian. I don’t do write ups for Malaysian artists. Well, any artist for that matter. Unless it’s essentially necessary for me to do so.   Having said that, let’s get back to life.

Where was I? Oh yes. The little girl that I met.

I came late for Terawikh a few nights ago. All huffy and puffy from the short brisk walk from home to the surau. So there I was, late and all, taking my place standing at the very last saf in the midst of all these much much younger girls with little strawberries and fruits and flowers sewn on their telekung. Mine definitely paled in comparison.

I sat next to a girl with the little strawberries. She has the prettiest round eyes with long curly lashes.

As we sat waiting for prayers to begin, I watched her watch me fidgeting around with my keys. I carry around a bunch of  keys that would put a school janitor to shame. If there were keys for keys, I think I might have them.

The little girl with the strawberries looked up while at the same time I was thinking of having those little strawberries sewn to my telekung as well.

“Akak ada kereta?”

“Ada la..kenapa?”

“akak dah kerja?”

“dah…”

“Mesti best kan, dah besar, boleh ada kereta sendiri, dah kerja boleh beli macam macam. Tak sabar nak besar!” So the little girl with the strawberries determinedly said with a twinkle in her eyes.

I remember when I was about her age. Parading around the front porch in my mother’s working shoes and an imaginary handbag dangling from my left arm. I would  criss-cross the graveled path in front of the house, pretending I was crossing the streets of KL. All grown up. All confident and all tres chic. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Now that I am here, all grown up, confidence level would vary depending on situations and not that very tres chic mind you, I looked at the girl with strawberries and tried to think of something inspiring to say and ended up saying something lame as “belajar la rajin rajin, nanti dapat kerja best boleh beli apa je” Having heard myself say that, I wish that the earth would swallow me up. How typical-orang dah besar-kind of response was that.  When what I actually wanted to say was this;

Don’t be in a rush to grow up just yet because you have to start paying your own bills, the car doesn’t run on its own and owning one is more of a necessity and it starts to become a royal pain on your behind. The phone line doesn’t come for free and  girlfriends wouldn’t be so easily accessible once we’ve all grown up. You actually need to make appointments 2 weeks in advance just to schedule a lunch date. You’d start to miss those days when your friends are just a yell away. You can always show up at their doorstep unannounced and be rest assured that your friend will be there.  You also start to worry about gravity and it’s pull on your body down south. 

Sometimes little girl, grown ups become so jaded with the small pleasures in life. Like splashing around in the rain, or dribbling hot chocolate down their chin, or finding that free gift from the cereal box. You don’t get to play galah panjang anymore, or baling selipar every evening at 6 with your friends. You don’t feel the same giddy happiness you felt when your neighbourhood bai roti  came honking pass your house. Horses or rabbits don’t make us squeal in delight anymore. Grown ups worry too much. Grown ups are sometimes cranky, and have terrible mood swings like me. Heartbreaks will either break you, or make you stronger. But either way, heartbreaks break the heart.

So the girl with the strawberries, don’t grow up too fast.The future will be there waiting for you, come rain or shine. Enjoy running around and screaming at the top of your lungs just because you can and nobody would think that you’ve lost a marble  because once you’ve grown, you can never go back. Don’t grow up too fast because I need to slow down and enjoy my life as well.

But it isn’t all that bad, when you’re a grown up, you get to drink endless cups of coffee every morning and have ice cream whenever you feel like it.

Life is good, let’s just slow it down a bit.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Que Sera Sera

First and foremost, I am not Cik Normah. Tang mana did I hint that I am Cik Normah?  Cik Normah is a columnist from Berita Harian. I don’t do write ups for Malaysian artists. Well, any artist for that matter. Unless it’s essentially necessary for me to do so.   Having said that, let’s get back to life.

Where was I? Oh yes. The little girl that I met.

I came late for Terawikh a few nights ago. All huffy and puffy from the short brisk walk from home to the surau. So there I was, late and all, taking my place standing at the very last saf in the midst of all these much much younger girls with little strawberries and fruits and flowers sewn on their telekung. Mine definitely paled in comparison.

I sat next to a girl with the little strawberries. She has the prettiest round eyes with long curly lashes.

As we sat waiting for prayers to begin, I watched her watch me fidgeting around with my keys. I carry around a bunch of  keys that would put a school janitor to shame. If there were keys for keys, I think I might have them.

The little girl with the strawberries looked up while at the same time I was thinking of having those little strawberries sewn to my telekung as well.

“Akak ada kereta?”

“Ada la..kenapa?”

“akak dah kerja?”

“dah…”

“Mesti best kan, dah besar, boleh ada kereta sendiri, dah kerja boleh beli macam macam. Tak sabar nak besar!” So the little girl with the strawberries determinedly said with a twinkle in her eyes.

I remember when I was about her age. Parading around the front porch in my mother’s working shoes and an imaginary handbag dangling from my left arm. I would  criss-cross the graveled path in front of the house, pretending I was crossing the streets of KL. All grown up. All confident and all tres chic. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

Now that I am here, all grown up, confidence level would vary depending on situations and not that very tres chic mind you, I looked at the girl with strawberries and tried to think of something inspiring to say and ended up saying something lame as “belajar la rajin rajin, nanti dapat kerja best boleh beli apa je” Having heard myself say that, I wish that the earth would swallow me up. How typical-orang dah besar-kind of response was that.  When what I actually wanted to say was this;

Don’t be in a rush to grow up just yet because you have to start paying your own bills, the car doesn’t run on its own and owning one is more of a necessity and it starts to become a royal pain on your behind. The phone line doesn’t come for free and  girlfriends wouldn’t be so easily accessible once we’ve all grown up. You actually need to make appointments 2 weeks in advance just to schedule a lunch date. You’d start to miss those days when your friends are just a yell away. You can always show up at their doorstep unannounced and be rest assured that your friend will be there.  You also start to worry about gravity and it’s pull on your body down south. 

Sometimes little girl, grown ups become so jaded with the small pleasures in life. Like splashing around in the rain, or dribbling hot chocolate down their chin, or finding that free gift from the cereal box. You don’t get to play galah panjang anymore, or baling selipar every evening at 6 with your friends. You don’t feel the same giddy happiness you felt when your neighbourhood bai roti  came honking pass your house. Horses or rabbits don’t make us squeal in delight anymore. Grown ups worry too much. Grown ups are sometimes cranky, and have terrible mood swings like me. Heartbreaks will either break you, or make you stronger. But either way, heartbreaks break the heart.

So the girl with the strawberries, don’t grow up too fast.The future will be there waiting for you, come rain or shine. Enjoy running around and screaming at the top of your lungs just because you can and nobody would think that you’ve lost a marble  because once you’ve grown, you can never go back. Don’t grow up too fast because I need to slow down and enjoy my life as well.

But it isn’t all that bad, when you’re a grown up, you get to drink endless cups of coffee every morning and have ice cream whenever you feel like it.

Life is good, let’s just slow it down a bit.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Dear Cik Normah

I’m fine now. Emosi sudah kembali stabil. I reckon I was experiencing a bout of catatonic mood swing. Happens only to the best of us.

Original entry post mood swing is supposed to be about this little girl I met during Terawikh but I’ll get to that later. Promise promise.

Tonight, allow me to rant and rave. It’s part of the 12 step post mood swing recovery process.

Dear Kak Normah of Berita Harian,

I read your little piece today. Of Ain or is it Ekin getting married after Aidilfitri to a duda anak 3.

Kak Normah, correction.

The guy in the picture is no duda. He is very much still married. He has 3 beautiful children, 2 boys and a girl, and a very down-to-earth wife who is very loyal to him.

Ain is very much delusional. Or perhaps just desperate to be married to a rich man. Yes kak Normah, the man in the picture is extremely rich. Yet again, I would like to stress that he is STILL married. She’s about to break up a family.

No kak Normah. I’m not doing this out of spite or out of raving jealousy. It made me queasy reading how you wish them all the luck in the world because you see…take away his millions, I doubt he would be that much attractive in the eyes of what-ever-her-name-is. Serious.

I could actually care less of who the plastic look-a-alike wants to marry and spend her happily ever afters with. I just despise the fact that she’s splattering it all over the papers for all to see. Regardless of how his wife and kids might feel.

Just for fun, let’s imagine that Mawi is doing the exact same thing she’s doing. 

Having ranted and raved, allow me to go back into a zen-like state of mind.

Monday, August 24, 2009

Cause I’m Leaving

It’s time to leave my job.

7 years of driving the same treacherous road halfway up to Genting through Hulu Yam. Everyday at 6.30 am.7 years of giving it all that I can give,my time,my resources, my soul included.

I have always thought of leaving, but I was still there, am still there or here or wherever that is. I’d always say to myself, just one more year, one more year. Sometimes, I’d say, let me finish off this year, it wouldn’t be fair to leave in the midst of everything. I should have left when the first thought of leaving crossed my mind. 

There I was, facing my second in command of a boss, looking at my yearly performance  review. I think I didn’t speak for a good 10 minutes. I just sat there, staring at the piece of paper that might have been more or less the one thing that stood in the way of me ever moving up the ladder. I just sat there, willing myself not to cry in front of the boss. No. No tears.

I looked up, smiled and asked for a justification.

Second in command fidgeted around. Trying to come up with some lame excuse. The best that he could do was say “I did give you very high marks, but when push comes to shove, it all boiled down to what the Big Boss wanted.” And since Big Boss moved on to bigger and better things last May, I very well did not feel like calling him and demanding an explanation from him as well.

It wasn’t that bad. I was still in the box were my marks are considered high. But it’s not enough. It doesn’t reflect what I have contributed to the organization.

I spent the next few days wallowing in self pity, telling myself that it isn’t fair and that I did not deserve it. But it’s tiresome to be surrounded by so much negativity. It takes a toll on you.

The thing is, I have always wanted to leave. It’s time now. It was getting pretty suffocating anyway.

I have a huge mole on the underside of my right foot. People old old say that when you have a mole the size of Mauritius, you will travel far and wide.

I’m eyeing one of the Director’s seat in the United Nations. Not so soon. I’d better learn me a thing a two. I’d give it another 5-6 years perhaps. The Universe must have been collaborating with me as well. An opening at the UNHCR Malaysia. Let me start there. Resume was sent. It was also sent to a few other places as well. But I’ve got my heart set with the United Nations. It would go well with what I’ve been doing with the AYC.

And, I was headhunted. A request for my resume to be sent to the Securities Commission to be a part of their PR team. I am thrilled and flabbergasted. The Securities Commission. But that’s not my calling. Even in the midst of all the uncertainties in life, on thing that I do know for sure is that I am not cut out for the corporate world. It’s not me.

I’m terrified actually. Moving on to something new. So..dalam bulan Ramadhan yang penuh barakah ini, don’t forget to include me in your prayers.

The best is yet to come…

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Ramadhan

salam_ramadhan_02

Salam Ramadhan.

Another year has passed, another year to look forward to. A moment to reflect.  Another  moment to remember the people we love who are no longer with us and another moment to be with those around us. Another moment to be with the Almighty.

Alhamdulillah.

Have a blessed Ramadhan. You are in my thoughts and prayers.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Drumming My Fingers

There are a few things on my mind right now.

Of moles and the United Nations. Actually, no mole (s), just a mole.

But they don’t go together do they?  The mole and the United Nations.

Been thinking about the moles and the United Nations since yesterday when I was in a meeting in Bukit Kiara, and this evening, when I was staring hard at the rows of cheese in ColdStorage. It crossed my mind again, while I was walking around Ikea, seeing nothing and buying nothing.

Oh! But wait a sec, I did buy something, the hotdog and soft drink combo. I had 3 refills. A thirsty horse I am.

The words seemed to flow much easier when I was blogging in my mind.

Here I sit staring. Wordless.

Give me a few hours. Remind me, of moles and United Nations. And the Tourism Board of Malaysia too. Oh, and the Securities Commission as well.

Just a few hours. Wake me up before you go-go

Friday, August 14, 2009

I think you’re sexy…

No..tweeting is not for me. I’m not the creative one liner type. I seriously wish I am one though. I need lots and lots of lines to get my creative juices flowing. In other words, my life is not all that glamorous or exciting for me to twitter about.

Twitter; Cinta is thinking of walking to the nearest 7-Eleven and buying off their whole supply of Snickers cause it’s that time of the month, or;

Twitter; I’m getting into my car now and driving home to feed my cats.

No, that just wouldn’t do. I would hate to be the cause of death to those who actually follow me. Cause of death;extreme boredom tahap gaban. I think I’ll stick to blogging. Safer this way.

During my first year as an undergrad, I had to study Linguistics taught by a certain Dr. Wong. Very good lecturer.Petite with a soft voice. I still have nightmares about having to memorize this particular table which I can’t recall what it was all about. I hated it. I failed the paper. I had to sit for the paper again in my final year. The embarassment of having to be in class with the 1st year juniors. Sangat tak cool. I passed. Nyawa nyawa ikan. Cukup syarat untuk bergraduat sahaja.

Me, I’m the sociolinguistics gal. I adore my eccentric and quirky professor. She would come into class wearing one of those scarves with her jambul remos hanging out from her forehead. Her skirt would end a few inches above her ankle. Sama kes macam Dato Siti Nurhaliza, serupa tak payah pakai tudung. But I love her (my Prof of course), I have an A+ to prove that. The study of language in its social, cultural context is fascinating. A word might bring a totally different meaning or context to the opposite sex.

AIRFORCE.

In general, guys would be thinking fighter jets, complicated war strategies and honour.

Me? I’m thinking sexy men in their uniform.

I was at a Petronas service station earlier, idling away in the car, waiting for a colleague. I looked around, cuci mata. It was exactly the end of the Friday prayers.

There it was. The words RMAF. An RMAF truck parked a few cars away.

I didn’t see who was inside. I didn’t really care. Because you see, no matter how “pecah rumah” the men inside might look like, I would still think of them as these sexy creatures that roam the earth in their sexy uniform with the sexy pilot’s helmet and their sexy Ray-Ban...

Hot.

Just because the truck had the words RMAF stamped to its side. Grrrrr…..Gigit boleh?

I think I’ll go drive around the entrance to the RMAF base now. Perhaps catch me a pilot or two. Have a good weekend.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Gettin Jiggy with Tweety

twitter

Okay… Everybody who’s anybody is twittering away. Except for yours truly. I don’t know how to twitter.

I’m curious, therefore I created an account. I know… I’m so the stone age girl. I am what you call a late bloomer.

Now…hmmm…what am I suppose to do with this again?

Twitt! Twitt!

I’m off exploring. I can do this…no??

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Say Hi for Me?

Traffic is bumper to bumper, your car is crawling ever so slowly along Jalan P. Ramlee, air conditioning at full blast, you channel surf the radio stations hoping to hear some decent songs to which you could sing along to but instead, you hear the endless chatter and ramblings of the announcers during rush hour. You look to your right, hoping perhaps to see a hot girl/guy. That would've killed some time. A wink here and there, glances between the changing lights that you never seem to be able to go through, but instead, what you see is a couple. Married. Married couples during rush hour would have this generic look, the wife would be sleeping, head tilted to the window, and husband would be staring off into space, wondering or perhaps reminiscing how his once hot wife isn't looking so hot anymore nowadays. Not that the husband is looking all that great either.

You try not to get irritated at the motorcyclists weaving in and out, you wish you could do the same. You look at the traffic light again, still red, you count to 10, and it's still red. And then you ask yourself "why do I have to drive during rush hour?" Your tummy starts to do the rumba and your throat suddenly feels parched.

Here is what I suggest you to do, but this only applies if you are driving along Jalan P. Ramlee heading towards Jalan Raja Chulan.

Turn left after the traffic light, The Weld will be on your left. Enter the parking lot, park your car, go inside and look for a place to eat. They have Bangkok Express, a little Arab restaurant, Dominoes, Mc Donalds, O'Brien's (I love their sandwiches), Delifrance and a few others to satisfy your taste palette.

Eat, drink and wait for the traffic to subside. Now, when you're about ready to brave the streets of KL again, on the 1st floor of the Weld, near the escalator, stop at *NIGELLA GROCERS. Buy a pack of salad for tomorrow's lunch, or a bar of chocolate or a bottle of water. Buy anything.

If you see a woman in the shop, with 3 beautiful children running around her, pretty Arabella, cheeky Iskandar and cute little Arissa, stop and say hi and tell her that Cinta sends her regards.

A close friend of mine owns the place. Well, co-own actually and I call her Lyn. They opened yesterday. We go way back from our Uni days and I value her friendship ever more so after all these years.

So, if you are ever there at The Weld, stop by at NIGELLA GROCERS and tell her that I said hi.


*Nigella is the scientific name for Habbatus Sauda.

In Islam, it is regarded as one of the greatest forms of healing medicine available. Muhammad once stated that the black seed can heal every disease—except death—as recounted in the following hadith:

"

Narrated Khalid bin Sa'd:We went out and Ghalib bin Abjar was accompanying us. He fell ill on the way and when we arrived at Medina he was still sick. Ibn Abi 'Atiq came to visit him and said to us, "Treat him with black cumin. Take five or seven seeds and crush them (mix the powder with oil) and drop the resulting mixture into both nostrils, for 'Aisha has narrated to me that she heard the Prophet saying, 'This black cumin is healing for all diseases except As-Sam.' 'Aisha said, 'What is As-Sam?' He said, 'Death.' " (Bukhari)

Monday, July 27, 2009

Istanbul

I was in the historical and colorful city of Istanbul last two months and I scribbled down something in between conferences and forums and somehow forgot to post them.

2 months ago

Movenpick Hotel, Istanbul



It's my last day here in Istanbul. I've taken to spraining my ankle whenever I travel. It first started off during the Redang trip, and then it was Bandung and that was the worst and now here, in Istanbul. But that's another story for another day.

It's cold outside. Windy and cold. My cheeks would feel like it's been stuffed with cotton balls whenever the cold air breezes past me. But I like the change in weather. It means I could let my hair down without worrying that in an hour, my head won't look like a giant frizz ball and the cold air gives my cheek that subtle hint of red, without having to wear any blusher. 13°c is definitely a welcome change to the hot and humid 31°c back in good'ol Kuala Lumpur.

I was welcomed to Istanbul with style. And by style, I mean a hair rising taxi ride with me clutching the headrest in front of me and praying silently whilst glancing at my travelling companion and wondering whether we would make it till the end of the ride. I had glimpses of homes built on hillsides and Turkish girls in colorful hijab walking together, giggling and clutching their overcoats tight around them. I had to keep up as the sights of Istanbul zoomed in a flurry past me. I wanted to laugh and throw up at the same time. The friendly cab driver kept insisting for my travel partner to smoke in the cab. A welcome gesture on his part. It was definitely a different kind of welcome. Different but hilarious.


My flight and the luxurious bed and room that I sleep in were paid for by the government of Turkey and Spain, hence it was only fair that I seriously get down to business and less of being a tourist. I had to force myself away from the inviting and alluring smell of Turkish food and its spices beckoning to me every time I pass by the sidewalk café's on my way to the meeting centre and since it was a working trip, there was not much of Istanbul that I manage to experience or capture on digital. Even my guided tour to Aya Sofia was rushed. Hundreds of year's worth of story and history cramped into 20 minutes. But I did steal a quiet moment away from the group to stand in a corner of the mosque/cathedral. I looked around me, at the walls, the ceiling and the floor. When was it like then? Who passed through these doors? What was the story? I imagined church boys in white robes standing by the side of the main door, and I subtly heard the muezzin's call to prayer and rows and rows of Turkish men in deep in prayer. If only the walls could speak.

Outside the Aya Sofia, I could see the Blue Mosque in the distance. Clear blue sky provided the perfect backdrop. It was exhilarating to be there. To be standing among the Turkish families frolicking around on the grass, sharing a picnic with the Aya Sofia and the Blue Mosque standing guards on each side. There was a food cart nearby, the wafting smell of grilled corn made me think of food.

Remember the movie, A Walk to Remember when Mandy Moore's one wish was to be in two places at one time? I guess I knew how it felt.

Dinner on a cruise on the Bosporus. I was in between continents. Asia and Europe. Culture, tradition and modernization meshed into one. Being in Istanbul is like being transported into a world of two dimensions. You have skyscrapers and ultra modern hotels, and yet you see subtle traces of history past.
I didn't want to go back with no memories of any adventures on my trip here so on the last day here, I played hookie during the last session. I had to. It was either that or the only things that I would remember would be the inside of the hotel room and the conference centre.

I ventured out alone in the city. I had my heart set on the Grand Bazaar and the Spice Bazaar. Armed with a few hundred liras, a digital camera, the hotel's business card and a map of the city, I thought I was all set. Apparently, I should've thought of it more thoroughly. Leaving behind a map of the city's underground railway system is definitely a result of the lack of thorough thinking on my part. I nearly didn't make it back to the hotel. I knew how to get from Levent 4 to Taksim but that was it. I had no idea how to find my way beyond that. The local Turks didn't speak English but they tried really hard to help me find my way. I even spoke in Malay, out of sheer frustration since they wouldn't even be able to understand me either way, pointing to the spot on where Taksim is located.

The wise Fergie once sang, big girls don't cry. So I didn't although I was actually terrified of the thought of getting lost. Instead, I strolled around the square in front of the Spice Bazaar looking for a bench to park myself and decided just to people watch until I figure out what to do. I know I could've easily flagged down a cab and showed them the hotel's card but I wanted something more. I wanted to stand among the locals, and listen to the sounds. But since it was getting dark, I flagged down that white cab with the blue stripes. J I'll just listen to the sounds of Istanbul's traffic.
You can't help but fall in love with Istanbul.
My flight will be in a few hours. My bags are packed. I'm sad to be leaving Istanbul but I'll be back insyallah.

Cinta, City of Istanbul.