Every once in a while, I look at everything around me and wonder what exactly it is I am doing here. This isn't exactly my dream job, although its got potential. Every time my boss gives me a new assignment, I have the urge to run away, because I am terrified of not being able to live up to his, or even MY OWN expectations.
I know my learning curve is so high right now it amazes even me, but I am scared. I want to run home and hide under the covers and never come out. The prospect of life just terrifies me. The thought of having to spend it here terrifies me even more, and the thought of going off and doing something else, continuing my studies or having kids or working elsewhere scares me most of all. We're all terrified of the unknown, but sometimes I wish I wasn't.
I see people leading their lives seemingly with ease and all the confidence in the world and I wish I was like them, although I know that deep inside, they must be as scared as I am. I want to stick around, for at least a year. I want stay still like the proverbial stone and gather all the moss I can in order for me to advance to the next phase of my life. I want to be able to go to work each morning with the confidence of someone who knows exactly what she is doing, and is not scared of doing it.
For that, I need staying power. It's true what they say. Running away is easy. Staying put, now that's the real challenge.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Friday, May 8, 2009
Pengsan
Sebab cantikkk!! I went here and almost hyperventilated sebab the shoes are gorgeoussssss!! I want them alllll.. ALLL. Tapi that's seriously not possible sebab gaji baru dapat for one week only.. :(
So I'm gonna have to settle with one je.. I can't wait to pick them up! :)
But they're GORGEOUSSS!!
The high-heeled shoes lah, yang lain2 tu tak pasti ye?
Ok, gotta go pengsan now..
So I'm gonna have to settle with one je.. I can't wait to pick them up! :)
But they're GORGEOUSSS!!
The high-heeled shoes lah, yang lain2 tu tak pasti ye?
Ok, gotta go pengsan now..
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Buruk Sangka
One fine evening, as my husband and I were on the way up to our new apartment, something amusing happened. Our apartment building has one lift that only goes down to the carpark and two other lifts which go up to the unit floors. As we got out of the car park lift, I saw this crotchety pakcik gad look at us. I've seen him many times before, giving us dirty looks everytime we passed. I just passed it off as some unfriendly, overworked (overworked ke kalau keje dia duduk tengok orang without even questioning if they belong there?) harrassed guard just passing the time. Little did I know how his well-empty-space-endowed, diabolical head worked. As we walked out of the lift, he took one look at us, reached for some kind of button and pressed it.
And right then and there, the sounds of someone melodiously reciting the Al-Quran reverberated through the usually pin-drop silent lobby, loud and clear for all to hear.
Puzzled, my husband and I looked at each other and I glanced at my watch, wondering if it was customary for the lobby to play Quranic verses before a certain solat time, but it was well after the Isyak call-for prayers. So I turned around, and looked at the guard. And he had the smuggest, most self-righteous look I had ever seen on a moron. The apartment lifts arrived and we got in. Throughout it ALL, he never lost that smug look.
And it dawned on me that, probably not getting to a very high level in school because the empty space in his head was SO big that his little brain could not keep up with the rest of the kindergarten kids, the idiot decided to come to the conclusion that we were probably an unmarried couple who needed to be taught a very strong religious lesson and get scared out of our sinful living.
My assumptions are backed up by some other circumstances:
1. The fact that the lobby speakers NEVER play anything. It's perfect silence, all the way. I have NEVER heard a song, a jingle or even elevator music coming out of them.
2. Once, my husband was coming up to our unit with a trolley full of things. Somehow, the trolley tipped over and everything on it dropped and scattered all across the lobby. Coincidentally, this same guard was on duty, and he completely ignored the fact that my husband was in trouble and needed help. I have no qualms to say that any other guard would have lent a hand.
3. The residence is mostly inhabited by expats who are looking for convenience and an affordable-ish place to stay. I think the management would rather take a neutral stance when it comes to religion, rather than risking offending anyone. So I highly doubt they would actually play the audio of Quran recitation at the lobby. Furthermore, refer to #1.
So in conclusion: Aku yang ter-buruk sangka dan terlebih paranoid ke, pakcik gad tu yang memang buruk sangka sekarang?
Tolong jawab, plis?
And right then and there, the sounds of someone melodiously reciting the Al-Quran reverberated through the usually pin-drop silent lobby, loud and clear for all to hear.
Puzzled, my husband and I looked at each other and I glanced at my watch, wondering if it was customary for the lobby to play Quranic verses before a certain solat time, but it was well after the Isyak call-for prayers. So I turned around, and looked at the guard. And he had the smuggest, most self-righteous look I had ever seen on a moron. The apartment lifts arrived and we got in. Throughout it ALL, he never lost that smug look.
And it dawned on me that, probably not getting to a very high level in school because the empty space in his head was SO big that his little brain could not keep up with the rest of the kindergarten kids, the idiot decided to come to the conclusion that we were probably an unmarried couple who needed to be taught a very strong religious lesson and get scared out of our sinful living.
My assumptions are backed up by some other circumstances:
1. The fact that the lobby speakers NEVER play anything. It's perfect silence, all the way. I have NEVER heard a song, a jingle or even elevator music coming out of them.
2. Once, my husband was coming up to our unit with a trolley full of things. Somehow, the trolley tipped over and everything on it dropped and scattered all across the lobby. Coincidentally, this same guard was on duty, and he completely ignored the fact that my husband was in trouble and needed help. I have no qualms to say that any other guard would have lent a hand.
3. The residence is mostly inhabited by expats who are looking for convenience and an affordable-ish place to stay. I think the management would rather take a neutral stance when it comes to religion, rather than risking offending anyone. So I highly doubt they would actually play the audio of Quran recitation at the lobby. Furthermore, refer to #1.
So in conclusion: Aku yang ter-buruk sangka dan terlebih paranoid ke, pakcik gad tu yang memang buruk sangka sekarang?
Tolong jawab, plis?
How NOT to be a mom
I got this from Notalwaysright. When I read this, I felt like slapping the woman and knocking her head onto a wall multiple times until her brain registered that she was a total idiot. I mean, seriously?
At Least Someone Is Receiving Maintenance…
Clinic | North Carolina, USA
(I work at an asthma and allergy specialists office, and a mom called me 5 minutes to 5:00 pm on a Friday. We were getting ready to close for the weekend.)
Me: “Thank you for calling ****, my name is ****, how can I help you?”
Caller: “Yes, I need to bring my son in…”
Me: “Ma’am, we close our office at 5:00pm, and we don’t work weekends. Would you like to talk to the nurse?”
Caller: “No, he needs to see a doctor right now!”
Me: “Well, we have our doctor on call - you’re more than welcome to call him. He can answer your questions and help with anything–”
Caller: “Do you speak English?! I just told you that my son needs to be seen right now! He’s had this cough since Monday, and he hasn’t been breathing right since he got it!”
Me: “Well, it seems that if he’s been that bad since Monday, you would have brought him in then to be seen, or even Tuesday, and not wait until the weekend to call…”
Caller: “I was really busy this week! I had an appointment at the salon almost every day after work to get my hair done, my nails…. I just didn’t have time! I have time today because the stylist just called me; she had an emergency and had to re-schedule.”
Me: “Ma’am, right now our office is closed. Please take your son to the emergency room, as it seems like he needs to be seen immediately to have that cough taken care of.”
Caller: *very agitated* “If I take him to the ER, that’s a $100.00 copay! That would eat into my salon funds!”
Me: “…”
At Least Someone Is Receiving Maintenance…
Clinic | North Carolina, USA
(I work at an asthma and allergy specialists office, and a mom called me 5 minutes to 5:00 pm on a Friday. We were getting ready to close for the weekend.)
Me: “Thank you for calling ****, my name is ****, how can I help you?”
Caller: “Yes, I need to bring my son in…”
Me: “Ma’am, we close our office at 5:00pm, and we don’t work weekends. Would you like to talk to the nurse?”
Caller: “No, he needs to see a doctor right now!”
Me: “Well, we have our doctor on call - you’re more than welcome to call him. He can answer your questions and help with anything–”
Caller: “Do you speak English?! I just told you that my son needs to be seen right now! He’s had this cough since Monday, and he hasn’t been breathing right since he got it!”
Me: “Well, it seems that if he’s been that bad since Monday, you would have brought him in then to be seen, or even Tuesday, and not wait until the weekend to call…”
Caller: “I was really busy this week! I had an appointment at the salon almost every day after work to get my hair done, my nails…. I just didn’t have time! I have time today because the stylist just called me; she had an emergency and had to re-schedule.”
Me: “Ma’am, right now our office is closed. Please take your son to the emergency room, as it seems like he needs to be seen immediately to have that cough taken care of.”
Caller: *very agitated* “If I take him to the ER, that’s a $100.00 copay! That would eat into my salon funds!”
Me: “…”
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
How can I change the world when the words won't come out?
I want to write. My fingers itch for it. And yet, when I put my fingers onto the keys, my brain gets stuck in sleep mode and I am somehow unable to come up with something good. I blog hop for a while but it doesn't work. Those mountains of words I see before me only make my brain want to crawl further into its grey blankets and snuggle up against its pillows. I am stuck. I'm loss for words. I'm uninspired.
Back then, I used to be able to put pen to paper and come up with something good. Only I can't confirm that with testimonials because the only person whose ever seen what I write, is me. Back then, my words were so precious to me that I refused to let anyone take a peek at them. My terror at having someone look into my deepest, most secret thoughts was so massive that my heart just skipped a beat whenever I thought about it. I used to let the ink flow freely on white surface. I used to just do it without even having to think much about it. And then I'd keep it away safely, locked up, just so no one can find me and tell me it's no good. My stash grew bigger and bigger over the years, until, one day, I looked at it, still unwilling to let someone look it over, and decided that no one else ever will. I crumpled each piece up, threw them into a big wastebag and tossed it out into the garbage bin.
So it's ironic that now, now when I realise my love for words and how much I want to be the one producing them and how I want people to see them, I'm stuck.
Back then, I used to be able to put pen to paper and come up with something good. Only I can't confirm that with testimonials because the only person whose ever seen what I write, is me. Back then, my words were so precious to me that I refused to let anyone take a peek at them. My terror at having someone look into my deepest, most secret thoughts was so massive that my heart just skipped a beat whenever I thought about it. I used to let the ink flow freely on white surface. I used to just do it without even having to think much about it. And then I'd keep it away safely, locked up, just so no one can find me and tell me it's no good. My stash grew bigger and bigger over the years, until, one day, I looked at it, still unwilling to let someone look it over, and decided that no one else ever will. I crumpled each piece up, threw them into a big wastebag and tossed it out into the garbage bin.
So it's ironic that now, now when I realise my love for words and how much I want to be the one producing them and how I want people to see them, I'm stuck.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Atuk
My grandfather was a great man. He was successful. He had a horrendous temper which he had no qualms about letting loose as soon as things weren't going his way. I remember, once, during Hari Raya, he had specifically directed the caterers to place their tents in a different place they usually did. The project manager decided she knew better and went with her original plan. That raya was obviously not a very good one for my mom, my uncles and aunt, and, above all, the caterers. Yet, despite that, he was a very kind man. He never hesitated to help anyone who came to him for help. In spite of his ferocious temper, he was loved by his workers. Most of them stayed loyal to him until the day he passed on, and some of them are still very close family friends. That was the kind of impact my grandfather made on the people around him.
I don't have many pictures of him, since my family is not one that takes many photos. We keep our memories in our hearts, and until now, 5 years since he left us, he is still in mine. I remember the way his eyes used to crinkle with amusement whenever I did anything silly. I remember the smell of cigars, and the way he used to smile at me and say "Clever girl!". I remember the way I used to sit on his lap while he caught his favourite shows on tv. I also remember the times when his memory dwindled, closer to his death. He'd sit on his favourite spot on one of the sofas, hold out a hand and go "Allo! Allo!" because he couldn't remember our names. It was the cutest thing ever, and it cracked us up everytime.
Unfortunately, as I grew up, my grandfather drifted further and further away from me. I was (like all) an egocentric adolescent, and I seemed to think the world revolved around me. I was sullen and moody. He was getting sicker and sicker, and most of his time was spent at his third wife's house, where she kept him practically under lock and key.
I loved my grandpa. Even as we drifted away from each other, he would defend me whenever someone spoke of me badly. Even though I was all grown up, I was always his "clever girl". The same baby girl he held in his arms when I was still only a few days old and exclaimed "My first grandchild is going to be clever. She will grow up to be someone".
I really wish that he could be there when I graduate in a month's time. Then again, I'd like to think that he's watching over me, proud of everything I'm doing, of everything that I've achieved, however insignificant, in my 24 years of life.
I don't have many pictures of him, since my family is not one that takes many photos. We keep our memories in our hearts, and until now, 5 years since he left us, he is still in mine. I remember the way his eyes used to crinkle with amusement whenever I did anything silly. I remember the smell of cigars, and the way he used to smile at me and say "Clever girl!". I remember the way I used to sit on his lap while he caught his favourite shows on tv. I also remember the times when his memory dwindled, closer to his death. He'd sit on his favourite spot on one of the sofas, hold out a hand and go "Allo! Allo!" because he couldn't remember our names. It was the cutest thing ever, and it cracked us up everytime.
Unfortunately, as I grew up, my grandfather drifted further and further away from me. I was (like all) an egocentric adolescent, and I seemed to think the world revolved around me. I was sullen and moody. He was getting sicker and sicker, and most of his time was spent at his third wife's house, where she kept him practically under lock and key.
I loved my grandpa. Even as we drifted away from each other, he would defend me whenever someone spoke of me badly. Even though I was all grown up, I was always his "clever girl". The same baby girl he held in his arms when I was still only a few days old and exclaimed "My first grandchild is going to be clever. She will grow up to be someone".
I really wish that he could be there when I graduate in a month's time. Then again, I'd like to think that he's watching over me, proud of everything I'm doing, of everything that I've achieved, however insignificant, in my 24 years of life.
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