Wheeeeeeee.......

It's finally here! My free time...
Hmm.. I know. I've been bored since... officially 3 hours ago. But, now, I realise, this is the time for me to do all the stuff I wanted to do but had no time.

1. Start on the mysterious guitar.
2. Work on my wall mural sketch.
3. Get the birdcage idea up and running.
4. .......... I'm at a standstill.

I was so busy that I can't even remember what it was that I wanted to do. 

Any ideas for money-free fun???

Ooh. I've yet to get my English tea, and my rainy days-steaming coffee-good book-curled up on a fluffy sofa-jazz in the background-session yet.

Please, please, please rain tomorrow evening.
(Note to self: Get some coffee. dammit.)

A Little Time Taken

Just a little fooling around with the Standard P.A.S. (point-and-shoot).

Featured are the little knick-knacks around Loft57 that makes our day!

A gift from YangYang from Amsterdam. Behind are the lovely bangles from Ajuntha on India Street, Deepavali Eve.

Ian's birthday pressie, Pink & Skulls. :)

Playing around with angles..

Cracks in the paint became an accidental success.

Our little vintage friend from Singapore.

Roll with the Grim Reaper.

All said and shot, I'm still very excited about my new extension. :)

Christmas Shopping!!!

OK, the fact that it's not really Christmas, and it's not yet really time to think about Christmas shopping, is the fact that I am blogging right now.

Supposedly Christmas shopping in Singapore right now is CRAZY, so it's either that you shoppers out there go straight to Singapore or just wait for the boring ol' sales that will happen somewhere sometime in KL. But trust me, sales in Sg  rivals anything from sex toys to kitchen appliances. ;)

So Let's go!! I'm alll and ready to accept a few gifts here and there.. if only you all'd be ready to gift 'em. :D

- Coach Handbag
- All the free drinks at Starbucks/Coffee Bean, as long as they are low fat and at least minimum 4 shots worth of Coffee...


And............. that's pretty much all that has been keeping me alive..
Meoww............... donations welcome. Thanks you guys... *muax!!**

I Love You Because...

I love you because:

Reason #17082: 
 When you get excited and try to adopt a slang, you tend to have Mellerprop-ism.

"Omigod, your writing is so ponSTAneous!"

Cancer Awareness

Last month, I went to Pinktober at MapKL, Solaris Dutamas. At first, it was more of a "let's check out the bazaar for Christmas prezzy shopping" which ended up in a BIG PINK lesson for me.

Well, I'm writing this, as I came to see that we readily accept any new technology that lands on our shores, but yet, when it comes to issues that really matter, we are very much lax in maintaining ourselves.

I happened to walk by this booth that had tons of Pink balloons, for only RM1, to show support for Breast Cancer Awareness, by Pinkbuddies. The support group was started by a group of survivors who basically intend to empower everyone by spreading the knowledge of breast cancer detection and offering support to those who have breast cancer or family/friends who are affected.

As a fast-developing nation in an era where equality is constantly fought for, even women are unaware of such issues. Of course, breast cancer is not limited to women, even men can get breast cancer. Maybe we can call it Chesticle Cancer. (Disclaimer: There's probably a proper medical term for it out there.) Just like Menopause can be termed as MANopause (correct term: Endopause). Or perhaps it's called MENopause due to many years of enduring the MANnerisms and whims and fancies of that lovely counterpart of ours. ;)

It was an enlightening talk in which, I was told, that usually detection happens way too late (Stage 3) to cure, whereas if we all did as advised, it can be detected in Stage 1, which has higher chances of survival than Stage 3 detection, with all the chemotherapy and whatnot. Chemotherapy causes hair loss and nausea which leads to loss of appetite, leading to a lot of people not wanting to undergo such traumatic experiences. Note, it is quite distressing, even more so for your family and friends.

On a lighter note, I did get really good buys, and even though it wasn't as packed as the Chic Pop Street Market 5 in TTDI Plaza, it was heartening to know that 30% of profits go to MAKNA. Hehe. Got snapped in the process, *that's me in major maluness mode* due to the fact that Ain, the really cool fashion photog asked me to "Give me your best pose". Don't want to be poser la.... Lol. But the other bunch of girls looked wonderful and not poser like, so I must practice, I think. *LOL*

Best of all was meeting up with old and new friends and just breathing in a new kitschy air as opposed to the stale recycled air in stuffy ol' shopping malls.

The WOW Factor

Greetings everyone! I am back from the void of workaholicness and anti-social assignment deadline time (practically the verge, and not yet quite done). -_-

I've been chugging down mugs and mugs of coffee just to get me through, and oh yeah! in an awesome mug that changes from all black to reveal this logo, whenever I make me a hot cuppa.

So now, say goodbye to boring and thick "taboo"-surrounded packets that we try to smuggle to the toilet. The new KOTEX® LUXE* Ultrathin Design Pads come in lovely designs that you will definitely love! Six different types of designs to suit any mood and personality.

Aren't they adorable? I like the Hippie Chic designs... reminds me so much of Eve's style.

Best part, they come in reusable polybags with a drawstring and matching pouches that don't even resemble the typical pads we all try to stuff in our back pockets when we have to go to the ladies. Thumbs up for Green Thinking and Great Design!

Expect to find these delightful designs when you purchase a pack of Kotex Luxe Ultrathin Design Pads today!

And if you're like me, the limited edition tins for the 6pc are awesome collectibles.

For RM4.90, it's an absolute bargain. Only until December, so hurry!

Check out the nearest Guardian, Giant, Jusco, Tesco or Watson's to get them.

Design = Form + Function

Time we spruced up our handbags with these lovely additions.

Drop by KOTEX's Website for more details....

I already have! :D

Mini Giggles

In the trendspotting scene, we have been spotted.
Literally.

Posts of pics shall come up soon.

Meanwhile.... :D
I have my mini giggles to keep my dirty little secret humouring me.

*teehee* IanPenguin. :P

Books are ALWAYS Judged By Their Cover

At the risk of putting an old adage to shame, I venture forth and say this here, right now, in my little not-so-private slice of webspace,
"Always judge a book by its cover"

Ah, well, having said that controversial piece, I must now support this statement with some facts:

1. We are always judged by our 'covers' aka first impressions we give to other people. I shall not limit this to looks, because, the way we act and carry ourselves influence the way we look.
This is greatly practiced in tense situations such as court hearings, interviews, conferences, meetings and so on so forth. Not so much, say, for things like making friends in the mess-hall.

2. One who gives great priority to their appearance, must possess good sense of discipline, self regard, confidence and can pay attention to detail.

Key here is, (especially if you are employing/working with that person) is to have the knowledge of HOW to HARNESS their abilities in a direction that would mutually benefit you both. Personally, I think Texan-wise. Never step out of the house in anything less than a state of dress. (And, trust me, their state of dress, is.... FULLY and OTT dressed.)

*Detour* Recently, a surprise visit came upon the house recently, and I was too busy to even go up and make myself look slightly decent. When THREE, instead of the ONE expected guest entered, I murmured my HI's (at the risk of being anti-social "I did not have my social-face on!"-excuse) and sequestered myself in the deepest darkest corner with WiFi and work. Hmmmm.

Of course, that might sound extreme to some (most?), but I come from families where if the gasman was going to come, my grandmother would make sure she was properly bathed, made up and in her semi-going-out-semi-home clothes. I think, as someone out there stated (very wisely, may I add) that,
"When you pay attention to yourself, you are paying respect to the people around you."
Or summat like it.

I mean, don't go all out with the bubbly, jazz and cocktail gowns whenever you need some lights fixed, but, I think it's just pretty decent to look.... decent (for the lack of other words) and neat when people come into the house. Or when you exit the house at least.

IanPenguin jokes that I even think my outfit when I take TinkyWinky out for a walk. Well.... it has to be practical and suit my current mood doesn't it? Perks of being a girl.

*OMG* "Daughters" by John Mayer just came on.... and... I've just melted.   o.O

Back to where I was aeons ago....
3. Realise the image in your mind.
Putting on the right clothes, right make up and so on so forth merely contribute to your attitude and mindset for the day. If you dress dowdy, then you'll feel dowdy! If you're all dressed up, shoes and face shining, well, you'll feel all the better for it and actually project that image about yourself to others, and of course, provide a sight for all the sore eyes in your vicinity.

Well, having said all that, what's the harm of putting on a little make-up and dressing as if you actually cared about yourself? Not being snooty or a brand-snob, but, look back to school.. I bet you, you respected the better dressed teachers better than the frumpy ones, regardless of how good they are. Ahhh... do it like a flashcard! Don't mull over it. :)

And to end, I found these interesting bits, which make-or-break my opinions.

Au Naturel?

And what's with the argument of celebs being ugly? They're there for a reason, and we innately want and need them to look good. So stop making such a big fuss just because they look like any ordinary guy/gal on the street sans makeup.

And of course, the ultimate makeover.

I honestly don't blame inebriated tourists for getting themselves

in a "stick"y situation.

;)

Disclaimer

Ah, when one has a crappy Vaio and has to resort to the "somewhat" charitable offerings of one who adds in Paranoia, Nagging and tons of To-do lists to boot, just for a moment's peace on the WorldWideWank.

And this is what I get.

A Guest Blogger on my blog.

I hope, you out there, should know the previous post was more of my undoing, rather than my doing.

Cheers!
 JULIAaaaaaaaaa

why bother

Why bother would be the perfect reason and answer for the question.....

But as usual once a while a guest blog writer sitting in for the regular rants of "is this the life" might add spices to this world wide web mini tiny blog of thoughts and wonder how you would decorate your room in shiny shoes dancing to prince jasmine in the background as the little mermaid sun tans  under the sun.

A random flash back : At 10 I shaved my head and tried to be a monk
I thought the older women would like me if i did I guess that was the beginning of the poking of the awakening in life and beyond.

Well...There's so much to write and rant and rant and stop for lunch and get back to this but at the current moment I'm thinking more about nice coffee ice and toasted bread and eggs well done........

But I'm very sure the question would be on everyone's mind how did I get the key to this site.....Click click click with my sony click click with my nikon click click with my canon lights camera action strip down to bare basics....

Maybe it could be Sharon Stone in a erotic thriller basic instinct (which many of you guys got super happy in a certain time in your life) 

the key for the key lies deep down in your mind.... :)

The author and founder of this blog is lying and sleeping at home this very moment all spread out like patrick the star fish...not to forget the drool from the fountain of youth creating circles and spiral's on the pillow.

Much to the author/founder's knowledge the blog has a guest writer having weird thoughts on its mind on the sentence and chapter.

A little freestyle ad:

you see me easy and fizzy whizzy in the VIP with the whisky and the girls getting loose

i gotta have my crew roll 12 feet before I roll in due to new kids on the block aint that cool.

partying like tomorrow is my birthday on a weekly basic and  partying like tomorrow is also my funeral with

a slim shady track being played in the church for my funeral service...can you beat that no kanye west side or east side could overcome that , so thats why he picks on skinny country singer girls at awards...it clears that it aint getting better so kanye get a new hair do and change your rhymes ....

now my girls being mutual on a screen for the best butt........

Back again....reading a stress symptom checklist.....and there's tons to go through.......shite....

 do you get rapidly beating heart even at rest? I know for a fact it happens way crazy during sex but while you sleep....unless your speaking in a thick english accent during sleep then i reckon it should be fine....keyword in this story:  Get mirrors for your kids at a young age and this disorder could be cured.

I really wish I could stay on and blog my way away down this freeway......and rant and bitch and give inside killa kali for nia lyrical beats (might or might not work some) and just yeah be here...but the fire's from the gate's of hell are flaming and the saviour fire fighter needs to be flying down that way to spread some love and mayhem to either add on more fire or make love in the fire....In the LOVE IS THE ANSWER like

Rivers Cuomo said : "there will come a day when we transcend our pain, until that day take it easy on yourself"

 Much Love,

Mcshane Slim Pit O'mally the 9th wonder -Last Name EVER First Name GREATEST

Randomnities on Safe Mode

Taking a break from my lappy which

Keeps. Shutting. Down. And. Me. Losing. All. My. Information. And. Having. To. Look. For. Everything. Again. Since. Safe. Mode. Doesn't. Keep. Anything. From. The. Previous. Sessions.

Anyways, logging into my mail, I see an URGENT MAIL from IanPenguin.

Following which, I scrolled down, and saw the rest of the conversation.

FROM THIS

TO THE PICTURE BEING REFERRED TO IN THE MAILS.

*ROTFL*

So THIS is what he does at work!!!!

Disclaimer: I am not laughing at, or undermining Joseph's abilities to achieve such a task. I am merely portraying the situation as how my mind perceives it.

Kopitiam Blues

Oh yeah.... IanPenguin and I have a bad case of Kopitiam Blues.


As in, badly wanting to sit down at a kopitiam in the morning, have our toast, half-boiled eggs, and just share grumpy grunts about the day, surrounded by chirpy uncles discussing the state of the world in a myriad of languages and dialects.


And, so, I had to take a breather from another of my all-nighters, by looking for some eye-candy.


Found lavly stuff, like this:

JUSSSSTTTTTTT to make myself feel better. You know?

I know. I have masochistic tendencies.

And then............

I found THIS.

MATA BUKA TERUS.

AISAYMAN!!

Me Being Me

As per usual, me being me, by which I mean:

Me =

• clumsy
• accident prone
• hungry
• temperamental
• spontaneous
• scatter brained
• impulsive
• impetous
• gullible
• tendency to make fun of all the above, in an attempt to concile myself with my iniquities, and also so it adds a rosier-tinge to my badly-painted self-portrait in the world's eyes.

*Teehee*

(Hope the latter works, because the former didn't.)

So anyways, today's activities were basically, dragging myself out of bed after a 7am-sleep, and being treated to yummy Curry Mee in Dickens Street. Good stuff, although, I must say, it is nothing, without pork. Nomnomnom, me loves me porkies. ^__^

After that, we walked over to Chowrasta Market, the must-go haunt everytime I'm back, where I (to the disgust of my mom, and probably most of you too) sniff the air, like a dog smelling bacon on a wintry night, erm, and erm, smelling the books I get excited about.
o.O I know.. erm... it's a book-fetish I have. It's not so weird, once you let me explain, really. *goes off track as usual*

*     *     *

Back in the days, where I grew up in a lovely, high-beam-ceilinged, hand-painted tiled floor, airwell, complete with the wooden pantry where all food is kept (Here's some old-day HACCP standards for you, and noone gets food poisoning) and of course, stolen from too; the long narrow, wooden stairs leading up to a landing, where well ventilated rooms (all quirky and unique in shape) sit comfortably next to each other. We have the usual, old, heavy cupboards, filled with equal parts of mothballs and linen, lining the landing which led to a "servant's quarter" which, quite inhumanely housed, the iron bed, ironing table and laundry area. Imagine, waking up and your WORK IS ALREADY STARING YOU IN THE EYEBALL. *shiver*

So, yes, consolation was, opposite this bed, was a ceiling to floor glassed cabinet with the bottom half being a cupboard with shelves. This particular piece of furniture was stuffed full of books. You name it, you got it. These precious tablets of fantasy, knowledge, imagination and just plain ol' comical humour were squeezed in tight against each other, as dignified as they could look, and were passed around the family. Time goes by, some disappear and go on to new families with the original owner's name & date of purchase elegantly scrawled on the front corner pages, some as gifts, some as congratulatory 'furtherments of study' bestowed upon the achievement of a degree/diploma/certificate/medal/trophy; while the others stayed, got shuffled around, and new ones were introduced, by the boxes.

As I grew taller and older, the gap of the books within my childish grasping fingers diminished accordingly, and I could now read novels, classics - upgraded from the comics and fairytales I had already tired of. (I suspect the top level had a few racy and not-so-suitable for female eyes-type of books, magazines and editions. But I'll never know, because we moved out before I could so justly investigate.

I tried, I did.

Mom screamed bloody murder, when she saw me precariously perched on the edge of an open cabinet, my toes trying to grip the delicate edge between me and 'ouch', while my fingers were groping around the top, trying to grab ANYTHING I could satisfy my curiousity with.)

Which then brings me around the world and back (and you out there too, thank you for being such a saint), to the smell of those books. They ALL had that smell, being stored together with tomes kept in the family for ages and ages, stained by eager fingers, thumbing through the lives played out in fast forward, watermarked by falling asleep in the bath and sneakily reading while at it, some pencilled marks here and there, eating while reading and all the other activities of any avid-reader-family that contribute to that delicious look, smell and feel of these books. That same, exact smell greeted me everytime I slid those glass doors, all tingly waiting for my next imaginary adventure.

That same, exact smell exists right now, in dingy, musty, crowded and dust-filled lots of the secondhand book traders Nasir, Mohammed, Iskandar and Samar, with the faint wet-market smells wafting up and the muffled cries of afternoon traders outside the building selling their wares. So, imagine being me, and everytime I smell those smells, all this comes flooding back to me (takes me faster than I explain it, I assure you). Those smells, to me, represent

HOME

*     *     *

And that is why, I eagerly smell every book I get excited about. Best part, I've not gotten any weird exotic respiratory diseases and so far, in my book-sniffing experiences, I've not come across a FOUL book before. =D

*PHEW* OK, back to square ermm 0, by which, we are approximately now at square 5216563281.3864, we went back, to bathe, freshen up, and I tried my utmost best to get some work done. After which, dinner was designated to the Brown field, where THREE different areas serve THREE different types and choices of food. The Malay/Mamak sections were open at the time, the Chinese ones open at night, and the ones in the field were of a varied choice. Looking at all these stalls, I didn't know what to eat, and so contented myself with a lovely, lovely, very toffee-ish-tasting Nescafe Ais, by this adorable, hardworking Indian boy, who (by KL Standards) speaks indiscernibly like a Northern Malay, and quickly switched his orders into Tamil, delegating them to the stalls according to order. THIS, to me, is the essence of Penang, and the essence of Malaysia (which, I shall and have probably, gone into, in another post).

Then, we drove up the winding roads, past the new bungalows on the hillsides and finally, reaching the neon-strip of tourist and bootlegged paraphernelia (I've been wanting to use that word for a few days now, forgive the literary snobbery). I launched into Penang mode only to discover that the missing DVD from my collection (thanks Eelyn, for Houdini-ing my "Grandma's Boy" into oblivion) and so just settled for lesser choices.

After which, Mom said I should go eat and so we ended up in Yunus. Me, scouting the area for any uninformed friends, and coast being clear, went to stand and chat my life away to Yunus. He talked about everything, the old and new, and then asked me what I wanted to eat. As usual, he knew my fave, which was the Tomyam Mama Mee soup, with an egg. His signature is chopped up roasted chicken, which he fries again with spices and chilli, generously spooning this mixture onto steaming noodles, fried or soupy. So, I finally got my food, made my way to the table and it already had my TTKKKM (Teh Tarik Komtar Kao Kurang Manis - ask me this in person, me is lazy) sitting on the table.

IanPenguin called, and I manuevered the chopsticks with one hand, and the phone with the other. I felt quite restricted as I could not quite have my noodle/soup combination and eat it at the same time, it was, nooodle nooodle... soup soup...sipsoupsipsoupslurpppp..

When I finally signed off, I went for the noodles, heart, soul, stomach and (obviously, due to the results later on) no mind and no inhibitions.

My last wonderful bite, had the eggyolk, pale yellow on the outside, like a soft-baked cookie, with a deep yellow heart, just the right amount of noodles, soup and of course, the yummy bits of chicken. *NGAUPP* I took my bite, and chewed a bit, and when I swallowed, not only did my esophagus expand, so did my eyelid-coverage.

Along with all that yummy goodness, there happened to be a huge chicken bone hidden somewhere.

OK. I know.. there are tons of remedies sworn by your cousin's mother's father's friend's brother's inlaw's uncle's son's aunty's pastor's wife's neighbour's dog's gardener's grandmother (usually, ladies who are not prone to 'swearing').

I have tried everything. EVERYTHING. Everything, I mean, everything I could possibly think of, from my mixed heritage/experiences/cultures/friends/etc and even what the Internet could offer.

*Sigh* Results were stated (still how I am feeling right now) on FB, right HERE complete with my imaginary mind (as explained by the bookery above) and pop-culture's evil nuances through the inexhaustible Final Destination sagas.

Dear You

A listless morning ensues the midnight aftermath.


What sparked it off?
What fueled it further?
What blew it up?
And tore it all to pieces?

My heart strayed,
Your love betrayed,
Now how do we go on?
If you cease to believe me from now on


Not a single word
Or thought is mine
Other than all else
That belongs to you in my life

Tear out those tissue-paper-nerves
And see how much it's worked so far
The strain, the pain, the effort, the work
I've put in to this dying piece of art


Dance on, dance ahead gaily
Like Ariel, stabbed with knives
For the love you once gave me
Has expired all but its 9 lives.

Quote

This is inspired by a conversation with PoshJosh who inevitably, during the course of our conversation failed to make a successful 'bank deposit' on the throne.

Good:
All bark and no bite.

Bad:
All fart and no shite.


Muah!

Happy Un-Birthday

My birthday passed in a whirl of excitement and events, full of family and drinks. But it wasn't for me. It was for IanPenguin's cousin, who got married to a lovely man, DrVicSmiles. It was a lovely event, lovely people and seeing the proud parents of the newly wedded couple brought tons of tears to my eyes.

Uncle Mano, father of the bride, is at worst, a man of few words but many generous gestures. He would always give the presumptory pat on the back and a smile. That night, giving his daughter away, he gave a speech, the words barely conveying the emotion he had for her and her husband. It touched a nerve (the one that activates my tear glands, apparently) as to how he saved all those words, from when she was a precocious little girl, through her rebel days and right up until today, when, visually and socially speaking, she became a young lady. Then the thought of what my father would say, even if he did show up on my wedding night, came to naught. I don't think he knows me well enough to say anything. This made my other nerve (the floodgates to the dams-nerve) start up.

Well, it will rightly be my mom's speech, and I did think, if there was going to be anyone else in my family speaking. Knowing mom, she'd be crying her way through the speech (like mother like daughter) but I know, she has her way with words as well.

This brings me to my birthday day. Hmmm... exception of Evelayn, lovely enough to take me out for tapas and pasta in Michelangelo's, Solaris, nothing else was said or done. Yeah, the night before that, IanPenguin's dad was in a real party mood and we all had a mini get together back at the house (more like a everyone's back in Subang, tired, but let's just give our last ounce of energy), which I do understand, that everyone, including myself, felt really really exhausted. I'm not blaming anyone for not doing anything, but it just makes me wonder.

Am I just getting to that point where birthday songs sound a little overplayed, strained in melody and a little frayed at the edges? (Mini-boohoo: I didn't even have a cake. No extra wishes for me then....) Or, am I just feeling a little wall-flowerish and not special anymore?

It's a given, I have a loving mother and grandmother, and IanPenguin's family is more than family already, and I am blessed with tons of good friends and have had the privilege of knowing so many wonderful, talented and diverse people, but....

I've been wondering, really, if life were to turn out like this, a sparkling wedding dinner, where a speechless, awkward father has no idea what to say, introducing who he (if he even does) is giving me away to at church, empty birthday afternoons with no cake, no candles and no friends.

Hmmmmm..... *my birthday tear*

Major Fail

Major Fail.

Today, we got up at 3pm, because we slept at 7am in the morning. Night before went and had lovely dinner at Michelangelo's in Solaris with Evelayn. She brought me out for a mini-birthday dinner since I didn't do much for mine last Saturday. Thanks a bunch! We'll wait for AndrewGuevara to come back and then we'll go for Sunday brunch at Bakita ok?

So yeah, got up and mooched around a bit and suddenly, at 5pm, IanPenguin goes, "OK, we're having my aunts and uncles around for dinner, roughly 10pax."

*FREAKOUT*

(due to no groceries at home as well as, worrying about what to cook)

Then, as the night went by, 10pax became 17pax and stress became pressure, due to the rice cooker acting up and refusing to cook my nasi lemak. Thank goodness for bread from my survey/experiment, and IanPenguin's Mom cooking sambal sotong as well as UncleDavidBaloo making his famous mutton-bone curry. Yums.

So yeah, 2 crates of beer, Southern Comfort, Whisky and few tequila shots later, everything was mighty fine. (I hope, guests-view). Ended the night with a few rounds of Gin Rummy. I must say, it is as addictive as Chor Dai Dee. :D

Tomorrow, let's hope for a good,relaxing day in, so I can sift through the remainder of my surveys and start doing some work. But honestly, all I can think of is shopping in quaint boutiques in Bangsar and my very empty bank account. Oxymoronic, I know.

All in all, this holiday's proving to be even more hectic than I expected.

*shrugs* Oh well, here's to beers and family and holiday time...

Cheers people!

And remember to drive safe and drink responsibly.

Mucho Amore

Jules

High Art

I always see high fashion in the process of solving a nonogram in fast forward.

Try it.
Unless, of course, I'm not as artsy fartsy as some. Pfft.

She's So High Above Me

She's just so refined
And oh-so-beautiful
And where does that leave me?
Just a little more regretful

She's always just so, just so
Just that little bit more
Of what you want, and no
Not what I can be, ever for sure

She'll always be more successful
Blazing the trails of the life you wanna lead
She'll always be going places and doing things
And always there, to say what you need

To hear
All your doubts and sigh, "Oh, my dear
It's about time,
My emo-partner in crime
That you opened up your eyes
And saw that we were
Always meant for each other."

It's been so long, Malaysia

Dear Friends,

It's been so long since that triumphant moment, once held in a large area, where people congregated, without fear of ISA or being held trial for being conspiratorial, where races did not matter, and all that counted was that loud call out for Independence.

Can we go back to those times?

Times, where race did not matter, instead, manners and health were priority.

Times where I did not even bother about who they were and whether they would talk to me if they knew I ate pork. I was more bothered about learning Arabic from all my friends, and learning how to write my name in Jawi.

I'm not saying that it is all specifically targeted towards the Muslim community. I am just saying that, nowadays, there is too much speculation on the differences between races and how we should overlook these differences. Shouldn't we (my two cents) just focus on the fact, that as Malaysians, we possess such variety and unique identity as a country, that instead of fighting with ourselves, we should look more on how we, as 1Malaysia, can face the world with what we have to offer?

My experiences, as a child, and even now, have made me believe that, there is so much potential in all our social responsibilities and roles, that it does not even matter what language we speak nor how we dress or behave, in how we interact with one another.

Come on Malaysians, do we even need to spell this out in heavily funded advertisements and campaigns?

Look into your hearts and your memories, and see...

When the last time someone helped you, irregardless of race and beliefs.
How we greatly welcome each and every public holiday with vigour, with the realisation that it only came to, because of the importance of each community in our country.
That, at any time of day, we can eat whatever and wherever we want, because of the fact that we possess such choice due to the wonderful possibilities our country has.
Our workmates, schoolmates, college mates and any day friends, whom we listen to, talk to, argue with and discuss anything under the sun with, are not limited to only the people of one race or one background or ethnicity.

1Malaysia does not highlight the fact that we should strive to be ONE. In fact, it just shows that we are already ONE.

The fact that we are already residing in ONE country, together for so long, that we should not forget where we came from and how we came about.

I readily accept all my friends and their beliefs and mannerisms, with the fact that, we all grew up in the same backgrounds and same societies. Where else can you get this?

Let us stand up, proud, as Malaysians. Malaysians first, ethnicity second, religion last.

Because, who we are and what we will become, are results of who we were and what we were. Merdeka, means so much more in unity than standing alone.

Happy Merdeka Malaysians.

beautycutskindeep

At this point of life, I wonder. When does the degeneration start?
When will I oneday look back and see how my life, my mind, my body and my health has changed beyond reverse?

It's happening. The years are coming. And they're coming faster and faster.

This is my only chronicle to document my life. Somewhat.

I wonder... like the sand after the waves, my footsteps washed away.

Like we never even existed.

Is this in fast forward now?

Fatty Fatty Bom Bom

This fatty needs to be reprimanded for shameless Ben&Jerry-eating sessions.

Moments:

1. I feel so frustrated when it's fresh out of the freezer, and it's too hard to grab a decent spoonful. And next thing you know, I'm scraping the bottom. OOHHH NOOO!

2. It's not my fault really, this pigging out on lavly lavly combos. It's just that reading too many scholarly journals inexplicably makes me reach out for another pint.

3. My Ben & Jerry's shrine at home is growing.

4. Seeing friends on vacays in bikinis, and me in a sarong, with a pint and a large spoon is NOT really motivating. Back to Ben&J's.

5. I use small spoons to make me eat less and slower but end up staring the ice cream in the face until I hit a cardboardy sound.

YEEKS. I AM FAT.

Object

No matter how much I say, how deep I say it, you are always silent.

This is you, object of Gap.

Sing Me A Song, For A Penny's-worth of My Thoughts

Won't you sing me a song?
Just to tell me that I am endearing and lovely
In all of my moods, moments and musings...

All I want is to hear your voice
Assure me every once in awhile
To know, that I'm still out there
Drifting, not lost to the oceans
Not beyond all human contact

"You look beautiful all the time... Shine shine shine shine on..." - The Kooks, Shine On

But to face an empty screen
Just a mere smoke signal away
I sit here, wonder and waste away
Wander in my thoughts
Wrestle with my memories

And then....
Slowly.........

The jaded fairy glow of a dawn whispers...

Helloooooo

Hellooo out there.. who are thee? This mysterious visitor ghosts viewing my pages.. I am curious. And curiousity killed the cat. And the cat has yet another 8 lives. So yes......

I am curious, as to whom may be wandering around in my head and thoughts and not soddying any pants while they're at it.... Hmmm... alcohol speaking brain not thinking.

Well. Here's a sobering thought for the both of us. Not gonna have any posts til much later today in the day. Me has to get me sleeps... if not, me is Crankus Ultimatus. :D

In the words of one... TA!

Oh Boo Hoo

Went out for a girls' night with AthleteShinYee, Evelayn, PammyPoo and PinkyPoo at Tao by Modesto's and it was great! They had Ladies Night promo, with 2 free Bellini's and had Tequila and Vodka shot promos for RM5 and RM8 respectively. But other than that, it was great to catch up with everyone and finally see their bayang-bayang in real life after so loooooong.

After that, came back, after an hour long heart to heart with Evelayn, and came to find a mini party with Anushhka, Ramesh and VishalTengapoo at home, jamming and layaning kau kau the music as well as 2 bottles of fine Scottish whiskey. Who was I to refuse? *shrugs*

But, now, I realise, I am old...... after all that beer, Bellinis and tequila shots, adding whiskey to the mix is like a big.. WHOA NO. It's the whiskey. It ain't me. Teehee.

So yeah, had a great night, and now the boys are nicely snoring away.. and I shall delicately shimmy upstairs to a soft, comfortable albeit uno-solo bed... And get ready to face the day ahead, which, it seems, already started like...... 2 hours ago. :(

OK... cheers. Here's me signing in and signing out.

Nighto lovebirds, and Morning to yous love-worms.

cheerios. ;)

Mirror, Mirror....

Today, I looked into the mirror.

And finally saw myself.

Myself, in all my moods, my phases, my moments, my iniquities and my thoughts.

And... it wasn't a very comforting sight.

I guess, it's like those flashbacks you have, moments before your soul leaves your earthly shell.

I think.... in those flashbacks, we should be happy with what we see.

No regrets, no pain, no hurt.

Just peace. And love.


I'll try my best, from today onwards, to live like I'll have the best flashbacks when my time comes.

Oops.. Rutabugga...

The irreparable damage that an affair does to a relationship, can never be forgotten by either party, despite how much they love each other and want to work it out.

The uncontrollable bits of bitterness and anger tend to seep out through the cracks that get more obvious by the day.. Little barbs of cynicism and hurt like flying darts in an otherwise silent relationship.

So what else can such a relationship do? Where else can it go? But to the gutter.

Speechless - the very rare occasions of my life

I am speechless, really I am. This whole thing I had in mind for my thesis, is now falling apart before my eyes.

I'm not contesting what my advisors are saying, it's just that... I am really really lost right now. I am actually stumped. I may not end up with a solution to problem.. I think I'm just going to end up a mere reporter of a situation chockful of facts that already have been proven.

*groan* fml.

What now.... what now?

On The Road Back To Black...

More like Brown rather than black, but it sounds better as a title, ya think?

Yes, about 3 weeks back, I went from blonde to pink to brown. And now, it's fading... I'm just tired of pumping in more colour into my hair... although, I must, in order to maintain the distinction between artsy and ah-lian.

What have my days been up to? I don't really know... they seem to forge a life of their own, and carry on without me. I woke to find, that I had been left behind. My days went on without me as I skipped along the dotted side lines.

So, dreary outlooks for this month... a lot of things that I wanted to do, seem to be very far off and almost impossible. I'm seeing a different side of all the things I used to hold dear.. No more 'La vie en rose'... more of 'la vie en noir'...

I guess it's the growing up and settling down. Sounds so oxymoronical, but, deep down inside me, I refuse. I REFUSE. I refuse to do so. Some people don't understand, and they shake their heads and wag their tongues. Just because I don't want to grow up doesn't mean I'm want to be childish. I want to remain child-like - there's a difference. Just because I refuse to settle down doesn't mean I am not grounded and mature. I just don't want to get boring and mundane.

Life is out there for the taking! If only you would understand. It's not always about the bills and the dust and the cleaning up and the chores. There's more to life than just the roof above our heads. Why do you think conversation has come to an absolute standstill? Because there is nothing to say. You want me to come home straight away. And so I do. Therefore, only facing the possible activities available in the house, which, you mostly spend your time doing as well.

Maybe, soon, I'll get wobbly knees and a Michael-Jackson-concert-fervour the next time we get a new Hoover or a set of new curtains.

Birthday's coming up... I should put those candles to good use. *wish*

Last Note

you are my fucking car crash
you are my ruin
pinpricks of pain
just to keep it all in
squeezed all the fibres of soul out
of my heart in your iron hands
filled it with veins of glass
crashed it like a wave on the sand
exit this train of thought
buy a one-way ticket at the cinema
cross me at the crossroads
and get drunk at a candy bar
proliferate thoughts
jumble big crosswords
play them charades
and put your marbles in a jar
when will i stop hurting
when will i feel numb
why does numbness amplify all emotion
why does silence amplify all sound
one week ago
5 years ago
i made a mistake
the biggest one of my life
one week later
5 years later
a carcass on one end
a parasite on the other
to continue living
one has to die
to continue loving
one has to lie
i shall not lie
wish i could die
but death is such an inconvenience
a luxury in fact
whereas living reeks of poverty
depravity, despair and ill wind
how can i choose
when it is not my choice to make
how can you decide
when it is not your life it breaks
you don't really care
you nazi bastard of a pig
all you want is what you want
when you want how you want
don't you dare now
push me around
no wonder she threw things at you
because you threw her to the ground
stepped on her heart
stripped her bare of her dignity
her womanliness
her soul
and her personality
one never quite recovers from such a destructive relationship as you
i have given my all
my well is now parched
my land is all barren
my hut razed to the ground
nothing left behind
except a huge scar and desolution
the winds of war
carry the reek of men
through the tattered flags
of their country who has forgotten them
this is what you have reduced me to
scarred battlefield
with no victor but you
and all my bridges burned
you return home triumphant
i wish that my loss will be your loss
but i realise that my loss only makes me lose
i am not a loss
i will not be one
because she has been beguiled by your win, your spoils and your words
walk away, holding your enemy's sceptre
walk away from all decency and human behaviour
are you proud?
will you even be?
if you even understand
half the words
written here
maybe, you might feel even better
because you have won

you
the only one
have won
bravo

Playing Hard To Get

I just realised something, when having a break from watching skins, and going down to prepare some stuff for tonight's dinner. It also brought back a point, which I chanced upon last Sunday, talking to my grandmother, mom, aunty and aunty's friend. It was practically a feminist meeting: One who was widowed, never had a chance for divorce and so put up lovingly with the one man she ever knew for the rest of his life and took it all in with so many kids in tow, the others all divorcees who knew the intricacies or rather, didn't know the intricacies of man, until too late, and me, one who was to embark upon a journey. The journey, of say, an ultimatum, of either singledom, or a life of (currently) uncertainty and doubt.

The conversation went on to discuss how one could now pay 15K and get the ashes of a loved one, compacted, through a complicated scientific process and thereby produce a diamond where one can wear that person's ashes around one's neck, in remembrance. Gram found it morbid, the others found it unnecessary expense. And then, Gram said, well, if they can make diamonds this way, then why weren't people making diamonds this way to sell? Since diamonds are the result of intense pressure acting upon the molecules of carbon. Interesting fact, which by the way, we had to explain extremely patiently to a woman who loves diamonds. :)

Hold on.. the point of the story is coming, it's just my way of telling a story. Hehe. Long winded, I know, but I'm building the environment from which I draw my inspirations and revelations from, so let's not linger on by me explaining this part of me...

And then, just know, I for the first time, peeled petai. :) Yes, the veritable stinkbean. It's the first time, I've ever encountered the stinkbean in all its pod and glory, because, incidentally, I've never really liked it much until about a year ago, where in a mamak, tucked away in a quiet area in Subang, I ate the Nasi Goreng Petai, fried rice with the bean, and fell in love. Hence passed a phase, where everything I ordered was with it. It was Maggi Goreng with it, Naan with it, beef fried in tumeric with it. Any possible combination, I would want petai in it. So anyways, this is my first attempt at cooking it and also my first attempt at cooking my Gram's famous sambal petai, which, I always avoided the beans and just savoured the sambal. Don't ask me why, I was ignorant at that time. :)

So yes, I was peeling it, the outer green pods, more like an enlarged pea pod, made me think of peas. You know, where u peel it, it has that little see through white sack, and you kinda shell it, by popping it and the little green pea flies out. So, easy peasy (pun intended) I tried. So much for that and its relations to peas. It's more like the ginkgo nut. Where you have to crack the shell, peel off its crappy scaly dry skin and then gouge out the bud with a needle. Except, there's no gouging. But the peeling is.... omg... it's so time consuming. Hence, why I now see why they charge so much for peeled petai. Of course, it doesn't have the famed medicinal value of improving memory and whatnot, but it is also claimed to be a blood cleanser, somewhat like the Neem leaf, in Indian Ayurvedic traditional medicine and of course, it stinks up your pee for the next several gos. Pity on those who access the loo after you.

So, I stray. But yes. Then it got me thinking, about the whole scenario, you know. Word association in my mind:

Stink bean = Durian = Inaccessible = Lovely = Coveted = Diamonds = Hard to get = Value

So, then it got me thinking.. that's it! That's the answer I've been looking for.

Kind of, one of the small mysteries of life solved...

People never want what they can get. Or rather, they wouldn't appreciate or value something they can get easily. Hear me out. I know, it's so typical.

But, yes. See in relationships, we always want what we can't get. Imagine, if we could have diamonds all day, it wouldn't be as precious. So, therefore, you should always play hard to get. My advice to my daughters: Play hard to get, not easy, but not TOO hard to get.

So I reflected on my life, and of course, the whole skins episodes came into play, where this guy, Sid, loves his best mate's girlfriend Michelle, but he can't get her. And there's this girl Cassie, who's just throwing herself at him, despite his obvious nerdiness, and he just doesn't see it, whereas, he's going around, talking to every conscious and unconscious girl, trying to get a shag, whereas, Cassie is just there, waiting for him. So yes, that's it. I shall no longer entertain those who play hard to get, and I myself, will climb onto that highest tree and stay there.

Don't get me wrong here. I'm not playing that game. I want to be not gotten at all. Some say it is momentary. I think..I've had my fair share of life. Let me take a rest from it all, and fade away for a bit. Who knows? I might just enjoy it and forever be exiled, happy and not vulnerable. Hm. That's a thought.

Well.. Cheerio! Off to my shameless video-haggling.