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?

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.

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.

 

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.

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

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.

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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.

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.

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. 

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."