Hey ladies, listen to madame dz...

the Malay Men saga continues. Depa kena lagi.

Funny but after that post, my girlfriends called me to say how much they detested Malay men. They were fed up with Malay men.

Ina called me later this evening to rant and rail. See, Ins is still on good terms with her Mat Salleh ex. They exchange sms's and emails. Even though they flirt a bit they know it's just friendship now.

She asked me the USD1,000,000 question:"Dins. Kenapa kan dengan laki Melayu ni banyak songel? Kita sms to say hello, dia ingat kita ni gatal. Cannot say hello ke?"

Then:
"You ever had this Dins? You meet a guy. You like each other. Satu hari 10-20 emails. Sms macam kelemumur. Then ah, tetiba, he's busy. One moment he's pursuing you, the next he's cold. What is this la wey? I am 37, I cannot play games la Dins. You ever had this?"

"Of course I had that. Don't ask me. As far as I am concerned I hope that twit is crapping bricks. Bukan main dulu, puji kita sampai syurga. Suddenly now always so busy. All Malay men must die!" I said.

"You know. I just got to know the guy. We both like each other. TAPI... why ah when sms him it takes him 3 hours to reply? In Europe that's considered rude."Sharina, that's why Malay men live in Malaysia. They wouldn't last in Europe."

"You macam mana? Dah ada bf dah?"

"I ok je. Duk SS kat Anderson Cooper ni. We're making babies right now."

Malay men always get angry when we tell them they're basketcases. But their so-called nilai-nilai Melayu murni stop short when they get the girl, so to speak. I think all of them need to go for Romance 101 and Diplomacy 500 courses.

I could go on bashing men but I don't intend to. But here's a survival guide for all single women that like a certain someone out there:

He may claim he's crazy about you but actions speak louder than words. So ignore the talk and see the walk. If he hasn't dumped the hussy or crossed three oceans to be with you, he ain't into you.

In the beginning of a romance, the first month is always lovey dovey. He misses you la, rindu you la, taik kucing you la.

MUCH as you want to believe it, DON'T BELIEVE THAT CRAP. MEN WILL SAY ANYTHING TO GET YOU TO BLOW HIM IN THE FIRST MONTH.

You want to know if the guy really likes you? Get yourself into a crisis. If the guy doesn't come to your rescue, despite him claiming he's mad about you, forget the turd.

If he really likes you, he'll drop everything for you. He can be a momma's boy, he can be a transvestite, he can be married or gay, but if he really likes you, he'll be at your doorstep.And etc.

How does one move on?

Easy. So long you ain't married to him, I figure you go your way or find someone else. Men are just numbers.

What, how can you say that Dins?

Hello, you men replace us like how you drop turds in an hour, so why the hell can't we women be shallow? Baby, you're just a number.

No man is worth the pain. If you think your heart is going to be broken, get out NOW. You do the heart-breaking.

Apa dah, I love him, I know he loves me wah wah bla bla, this is the 21st century. Apa you takut sangat? With the Internet, you can find someone in a second somewhere in Poland. Or Papua New Guinea.(Good no? Jauh-jauh)

Lastly, darling women. You can be fat, ugly, pimpled etc, but remember this:

You are a Goddess. Take a good look around you. There are one or two not so attractive people out there, in love and having happy relationships.

NOW DON'T CRY AND TELL ME THIS: DINS, HOW COME AH, THAT GIRL, SO UGLY BUT GOT BOYFRIEND MEH...

Think yourself lucky. She could have settled, and no woman or man should just settle.If you feel really low, do this then.

In the room or toilet:
Make monkey facesTell yourself 'I am the greatest! I am the best!'

Grab your tits and go Woooooooooaaaaaaaaaaarghhhhhhh I'm bustin'

And no matter how bad you feel, and I've been there baby, I've been there, remember: you're fabulous.

So, there you go womenfolk. Hope you quench your thirst for dz's positive writing to uplift your spirits. We sisters stand together.

Men are from Mars

Quote of the day: How can I miss you if you won't go away?

Before you get mad at me, let me just say that I like men. What's not to like, right? I'm no man-eater nor man-hater.

Men are like... placemats.
They only show up when there's food on the table.

Men are like... mascara.
They usually run at the first sign of emotion.

Men are like... parking spaces.
All the good ones are taken, and the rest are too small.

Men are like... bike helmets.
Handy in emergency, but otherwise they just look silly.

Men are like... photocopiers.
You need them for reproduction, but that's about it.

Men are like... lava lamps.
Fun to look at, but not all that bright.

Men are like... bank accounts.
Without a lot of money, they don't generate much interest.

Men are like... high heels.
They are easy to walk on once you get the hang of it.

Men are like... mini skirts.
If you are not careful, they'll creep up your legs.

Men are like... bananas.
The older they get, the less firm they are.

Malay men, in love and relationship

I was chatting with a writer friend while she was writing a masterpiece (which I will post in the 2nd installment), and when it finally arrived in my mailbox, I found myself in agreement with her. What is it about Malay men that are so hopeless... in love and relationship?

I tell you, only a handful of women are lucky to find love with Malay men. The rest of the women population is still looking for men who will treat us in a gentlemanlike manner and at the same time accept us the way we are. If we speak our minds out or have personality and intelligence, don't expect us to change and pretend dumb after marriage. You know, wysiwyg. Accept these characters in us, not running away.

So anyway, with her permission I would like to share the first of two posts because I just couldn't keep them to myself. For lack of better words on my part, I had to post the original version in her own words as I am not good at writing and couldn't come out with better twists and drama.

And I think, you'd be happy to read her posts, after her blogs vanished so fast, which left us feeling void for some times.

Yesterday was a religious day for me. I went for an Aqidah class with Peanut and in the afternoon, my parents hosted another usrah. If I had another class yesterday, I'd be qualified to be a pope, that's how much religion I had yesterday.

But my posting today is not about how I have become an angel. Or the fact that I won a gym membership (yay yay!). It is about my future life with a man.Those that know my family will know that the women in my family are lively. They are also blessed with Malay male spouses that are supportive, but they are at their wits' end when it comes to their daughters' spouses.

After the usrah all the ladies dragged me to Nora's room to lecture me on men and dating.

"You have to date Dato Azmi Khalid."

"Kan dia tu nikoh si Normala Shamsuddin nu?""How old is he Cik Nor?" I asked.

"63."

"Hahahahha, Mummy! Cik Nor nok Dina nikoh orang tua."

"Apa pulak tua? He's very handsome. Now kan ada Viagra."

"He's Bah's AGE. Yucks."

Then Cik Jee spoke out loud:
"Chor (my mum's nickname). You can't allow Dina to marry a Malay man. She is not for them."

What a pandemonium in the room!

I sat there and twiddled my hair. I make a good bimbo you know.

Ever since I became single, there seems to be no end to this matchmaking thing. I went to one and the guy told my friend he was a boobs man. Meaning, Dina didn't have big enough tits for him. WTF?

Two weeks ago, I was told by my male friends (5 actually) that I was scary to men, and that I didn't have the looks Malay men wanted.

I kept quiet because I was curious. All my girlfriends are like me and have decent marriages, so why was I the exception? I'm not that clever, I have 32A tits (though I lie to myself in the mirror and pretend my tits are 34B) and when I put on my Clarins Beauty Flash Balm I look decent enough not to frighten my nephew.

On Saturday, this guy I kinda dated earlier this year called up - we are now very good friends - and he told me,"Good thing you dumped me because we would not have worked out."

"Why is that?"

"I would not have been able to contain you."

I sat in the car and wondered. Dia ni nak letak I dalam tin Milo ke? Dia ni ingat I ni spring ke? Saya bukan rama-rama, saya manusia. Kadang-kadang saya ni monyet.

When I asked Bah-Bah this he said:Bloody fool wanted a maid. He does not deserve you Princess.

Oh.

When I look at my single friends like Ins, Ija, HoneyTar and co, I really wonder why Malay men are scared of them. Yes, they're independent. Yes, they make their own money. A lot of Malay men marry these women.

Maybe they're scared. Because these women have personalities. It's not a matter of having a mind of their own. Most Malay women have their own minds. But having personalities is something Malay men can't grasp.

This morning I showed Bah-Bah a picture of Anderson Cooper (CNN Anchor) who's in Vanity Fair's Best Dressed List for 2005.

"Bah-bah, Dina nok gini."

"Eesh."

"He's clever, tall, handsome and lives in New York. I think we'll make a beautiful couple."

"Mula doh dia ni... you and your angan-angan."

"ABAH! Listen. You have to face the facts: I may end up with someone out of our race or faith. You heard the aunties. And you know it too. How many men are like you?"

"You will marry a Malay-Muslim. No black Muslim. Mat Salleh Muslim."

"How about I make a deal with you? How about celup-Muslim?"

"Are you seeing anyone?"

"No. But just in case la."

"Are all Malay men that bad?"

"No, but for women like me, yes."

"Hmmph. As long as he's fair, tall and handsome.Nothing like your ex."

Opening this to the court...

Coming soon, 2nd part

Kasihani lah hamba ini...

To whom it may concern,

Please snail mail VCD Sepet to my current address:

XX XXXX Road,
XXXXXXXXX XXXXX
XXX XXX London
United Kingdom.

*hint to those yang baik hati dan sudi mengepos dari Malaysia or Singapore.(rafthah, ps, ju, cruella, stellar, poncho(rtd), dade, aces, ray and Malim, leez, sooz etc etc) Tu dia aih, kalau boleh semua nama nak display kat sini.. ni muka tak malu menadah tangan mintak simpati pembaca blog.. heheh

Thank you very much.

of marriage and determination

This week passed by so quickly that I hardly had time to blog. First, there was Aci to be entertained. Second, I'm down with cold and lastly, I am busy packing up stuffs. Tonight is my last night at this apt. It will be awhile before I can blog because I won't have an internet connection at the new place just yet.

On Wed night, I took Aci to meet The Mentor over dinner. Everything went perfectly well until they ganged up on me and started to talk about marriage. Sigh. And every time I changed the subject, they managed to swing back to the boring topic. Aci thought I don't want Aki because he's not good looking. Oh puhleeze! Give me some credit. Look is not everything. It's not that I don't want to get married, I'm simply not ready. Can't anyone understand that?

At the moment, my priorities are slightly different from typical women my age. They want husbands, I want freedom. They want kids, I want travel experience. They want to settle down, I want to globe-trotting. Stop telling me like I don't know what I want. Who knows maybe in the next six months I may change my mind. Of course I didn't say all that to them, I just smiled and mumbled something and sheepishly grinned again. The Mentor got my message, and told Aci that's what I normally did if I didn't really hear what was being discussed.

All the advice given to me are good ones, yet I may need some time before I make a move. I am a determined person and in this respect, Aci and I are very much alike. When we want something, we will work towards it. I guess that's why somehow she understood me eventhough we are not that close as sisters. The only thing that worry her is that, because our parents had passed away, she feels responsible for my wellbeing as she is the head of the family. She worries for me and for that I am grateful. I love you, Aci.

spye

I'm doing a dina zaman, with the eyes in the profile. Not so original, eh? Hmm.. I'd like to have dreamy eyes, but I love my big eyes anyway. Maybe because through them, I can see what's happening at the rim of the world.

Listen! It is a national disease.

So, almost everyone is proud of Siti Nurhaliza or so it seems. Great performance, but that is not the main topic for today. Today's entry is about Malaysians, especially the Malays and punctuality.

Let's take the RAH concert for example. Undoubtedly, everyone involved was on a tight schedule, but for a concert this big, time management is the one of the priorities. If it was 5 or 10 minutes late, people will not make such fuss.

Yet, when it was almost half an hour later, that was considered a poor management. I know we have all sorts of protocols to observe, so we had to wait for the Sultan to mingle around and then be seated first. Kalau dah pukul 7pm pun dok kat luar lagi jumpa Datuk ini, salam Datuk itu, macam mana nak start on time? Next time, get all these VIPs to come, say one hour earlier, so they can do their celebrity pose and be seated 5 minutes before the scheduled show begins. Kalau lambat jugak, employ me as the timekeeper and I'd shoot their toes to get them going.

On many occasions, Malaysians tend to waste precious time before a business meeting catching up with friends and colleagues. There's nothing wrong with that. Sometimes, while we are waiting for a chairperson or VIPs to arrive, that's the only time we have to meet other people. However, most of the time, these people dah la datang lambat, lepas tu nak sembang sembang dulu. Salam orang sana sini and by the time meeting nak start dah rugi setengah jam.

A friend in EX mentioned that her supervisor dah faham sangat with perangai budak-budak Malaysia. Tak ada yang tidak lambat, malah semuanya lambat lambat belaka. Sometimes, I feel sad because that is the image that we portray to the world. Is that what we call profesionalism?Why can't we be punctual? How many times were you waiting for friends at the mall, for them to turn up one hour later?

Is it the tidak-apa attitude that shape our mentality? It has become a norm for Malaysians to be late in almost everything. Where does it all go wrong? Was it our education system? or was it our upbringing? When I first went back to Malaysia, I was so determined to work in an ethical way and be punctual. It all went the way I wanted in the first year, but gradually I got infected with this cultural disease. In fact, I think punctuality is a national disease. I felt bad, because I knew that wasn't the real me but because the society accepted the behavior, I soothed myself with that excuse. Even then, I was still one of the people who will arrive early at a meeting or gathering. These days, at least I'm back on a normal turf.

So, how do we change the behavior?Maybe it all should start with our leaders. The PM should always be on time and show this example to his Mentris and the Mentris should do the same to their SUKs. Thus, it become a chain reaction that would probably yield a very positive result. Forget the tete-e-tete, and go straight to work. You can have it after the meeting or over lunch. Or else, come earlier.

If you're your own boss or a manager somewhere, then start within yourself and teach your mind to be punctual. Over time, people will understand your work ethics and they may follow. Remember, small steps make a big difference.

cornered into making decision

On a gloomy day like today, all I wanted to do was to go back under cover and sleep till noon. Obviously, no chance of doing that. By 8am, I was making toasts and nasi goreng for our breakfast and bekal. There was no way I'm going to stop and have a meal at restaurant as we had a long drive and a lot of places to visit.

As I was munching my first bite of the toast with cream cheese, Aci said, 'You know, I hate to bring this up. Even JavaMan is furious with me for stirring the issue in the first place. However, I have to ask you since there are people who are expecting some answer'.

Oh oh! What this? So, she told me how it started and how I become involved in this situation. And how she got trapped in her own becokness. At least, I knew that my bro-in-law told her to mind her own business, but she being my sister, had to ask me personally. This is the second time she brought this issue up, after almost 3 years.

I laughed after I heard this nonsense question/request. Come on! It's almost like incest.

There I was, writing about dreams and stars, and today I was asked to consider something that wasn't on my list. I'm commitment-phobic and I've been independent for too long. What will happen to my travel plans if I give the much expected answer that will make some people happy? Will I be happy? Do I want to tie myself to a pole? Gosh! Decision has to be made before she leaves.

Please God! I think I know the answer, but what's my excuse? I'm almost 31 and they are folks I know.

out with my secret and our differences

Yay! I'm off til the end of the week. Aci is here. Picked her up at Heathrow and after waiting for more than an hour, she was among the first to come out. She was surpised to see me looking like this. I think she had the question at the tip of her tongue but I told her, 'Later'

We chatted about her long flight and food she brought for me. She had a very pleasant chat with a manis man, Anuar Zain who sat next to her. All they did was talking and eating, or so she said. Apparently, he's here to give support to that Pahang lass at the Royal Albert Hall. I guess she desperately needs all the support she can get, they even reduced the price by half. Doesn't that tell you something? And I think maybe you people will hear about me being there too.

As we were driving out of the car park, I knew she had to ask. A brief explanation from me as I do not know what else to say. I can't really say what's in my head like I do to friends and it seems like I still see as the big sister I'm scared of, even though I tried telling myself to treat her like a friend. No, can't do. Maybe it's the huge age gap. Maybe it's the different views of life. Maybe it's my restless unsettled adventure streak. Maybe she's too engrossed with career and family. Maybes.

I didn't give her time to relax (for all I know she might feel jetlag) and off we went to central London for a night walk. Yeah right! It was raining, and she can't stand the cold weather. I don't know how she lived in the US for 7 years. Oh! I forgot, she cheated. Moved to sunny CA to avoid freezing Wichita.

It's 1:30am, she's now asleep, while I'm writing nonsense. Long day tomorrow. I'm taking her to Kent. Don't know if I have time to write more entries.Night night.

Leave us alone

Being born as the eldest, one may say it is going to be an uphill task showing good examples and carrying more responsibility than the rest of the siblings. The parents' dreams to be fulfilled, the grandparents' expectations and the family legacy to carry forward. Some think that since the firstborn is normally expected to excel in everything they do, the other siblings feel less burden thus ensuring them to have some breathing space. And the youngest is said to have an easy and pampered life because the path has been cleared and expectations are slightly less than before.

It is true that a lot is expected from the firstborns. New parents will map out their first child's life with what they think is best for him or her. It starts with the best kindergarten, the branded clothings and the trust fund up to the prestigeous university and later to the post of an executive director or a medical specialist. This is the trend among the parents, and no matter how hard we deny this, it somehow reflects the Malaysian society too.

But that is not what I want to talk about, because I do not know how it feels to be the firstborn in the first place. However, I do know what it is like to be the youngest. A lot of people make generalization that usually the youngest sibling leads a spoilt life. In another word, a brat. It may be true, because sometimes I felt that I was allowed to run free in my younger years, though I do not see myself as a brat.

Most of the time, our parents would grant us a lot of things we asked for and on top of that, we have brothers and sisters who are looking after us and showering us with material goods as well. Firstborns normally have a lot of pressure from parents but when it comes to us, the youngest, most parents become more mellowed and lenient, thus giving us less pressure. Nevertheless, I do feel that if one has an older sibling who is great at everything, one will have greater burden and an uphill route to follow.

Everything one does will be compared to the eldest sibling's achievements. Who was better at SPM? Why didn't you get good result like your brother? Why can't you be a good son like your brother? Your sister went to the US, your brothers in Mesir and Japan, where are you going? Why can't you be pretty and sweet like your sister?

These typical questions drive us crazy. So we do what we know best. We protest. By flunking our exams, showing our tantrums, joining bad crowds and doing exactly the opposite way from what the eldest did. We can never be like our sisters or brothers. We may be slow and we may be different but we still carry the same responsibility and we are expected to deliver similar results. Yet, we are unique in our own way, so leave us be. Given time, space and understanding, we will turn to be the most beautiful butterfly and when we spread our wings, we will fly as high as others, sometimes even higher.

Think it over and over again

There will be a time when a person has to make a decision that will either make her or break her. As we are busy accumulating wealth and simultaneously trying to find happiness, we often forget to live our lives the way we want to.We go along living an ordinary routine because that's what our family and society expect us to do. We learn to adapt or simply make do with what we have or what we can get. Priorities set aside as circumstances change. And as we grow older, more are expected from us than what we can deliver.

Sometimes when people tell you to set your priorities right, do they mean, 'change your present life for something better', or 'live your life the way you see fit', or 'by the age of 40, you should have a house or two and drive a beamer because that's what expected of you'?

One day you will wake up and say, I wish I had taken the opportunity, I wish I can turn back time and be 24 again. Well, guess what? Your wishes will never come true. Once it's gone out of your grasp, it may never pass your way again. Or so I thought.

I took a chance, gambled my life and here I am. In a another land of opportunity. Life is good, but all the good things never really last, innit?So, at this age, I find myself at a similar junction just like when I was 24. I took a wrong turning and found out a few years later that I made the wrong choice. I blew it up then. But God is great as a second chance came passing by my path. All I have to do is work a little harder to reach for it.

What if I did the same again? Dare I say that this time I will right the wrong? Maybe my wrong is your right and my right is not so wrong after all. I'm confused but I am determined that this time I won't have any regret. Shall I gamble all I have in order to find the ultimate fulfillment?

what nationality are you?

The rent was supposed to be deducted from my account today, but early this morning Wolves left a bombshell note saying that she couldn't go to the bank since she'd be out of London. Dammit! Rang the bank and found out that I had an overdrawn of over 140 quid. Shit!

Had to transfer some money from my savings to cover that up and after 20 minutes of waiting (they just love putting people on hold) and talking to the reps, it was finally settled. You know, by listening to the way people speak and their accents, you can tell whether they are Indian, Oriental, Black or English. These days, I can say that it's kinda easy to recognize a Pole, Czech, Japanese, Italian or even a Hungarian after I spoke to him or her.

So, when I first heard her voice, I kinda knew that a Malaysian was talking to me on the other line, but I didn't want to ask. However, she had the advantage because she knows my name. After she cleared my account, I knew she had to ask. The question was out and I told her.

We chatted for a while, and she told me her name is Fazlin. While we were talking, she kept calling me by my father's name. I don't have a problem with that because I'm used to being addressed by my last name but it was kinda weird when a fellow Malaysian did that. Uh! I hope she doesn't read this blog though, or else she would know who I am or where I work. The only consolation is that not a lot of people knows what I look like and I'd like to stay faceless to most.

Oh! Btw, do you know that in Lithuania, the last letter for a girl's name is always 'a' and for boys it will always be 's'? Like my friends' names Angelina and Aturas. I was told that Lithuanians never had and never will use names like Michael or Peter or Dorothy or Heidi. Interesting discovery. Mmm... maybe they lithuanized the names to be Michas, Petras, Dorothea and Hedia.

3 budak setan

I've been having itchy feet all week after watching Richard Gere and J. Lo. I heard the Japanese version is so much better. Wish I can buy it from my local dvd pirate. Dancing is kinda sexy and exotic, no? But, right now I feel more like sleeping and resting my legs. I didn't know what made me walked to the cinema from home. It's a good 20 minutes one way. If it's nice and sunny, I don't mind but it's freezing cold though no more snow.

I'm gonna miss this place when I move out in less than 2 months. Yes dammit! I'm moving again. I'm tired of packing and unpacking but I think it's best to find another place.

The current flat is comfortable, cozy and nice but it's too expensive for us all. The rent itself is not too bad considering the location and I love my room, but when you add up all the bills, I have just little left at the end of the month. That's why I can't afford a broadband :(

Another reason is Wolves may be going back to her country to finish her studies. I'm annoyed with her because when she asked me to move in with her, she should have known her plans or at least let me know of the possibility. If I have known that we're only staying here for 6 months, I wouldn't move at all. Bengang lah macam ni. Masa before pindah, macam macam cerita and urging us to move out cepat cepat. I even told her my doubt about the rent and the bills, but she said everything won't be that expensive. Now that I let go my fab old place, she backs out on me. Darn it! Tak boleh pakai punya orang.

To top that up, Kfiatek is giving me unnecessary headache. He thinks that maybe we could join forces with The Hotelier in finding a flat. Unfortunately, The Hotelier seems keen to find a 3 bedroom flat in Camden or Hampstead area for us all, which will kill me. Doesn't she know that to share a flat between 3 persons in that areas is a huge dent to our pockets? Hey woman, I got other bills to pay also you know. At the moment, the rent for her tiny pathetic box studio is £620 per month and she doesn't earn 6 figures either. The only nice thing about her place is that it's in Notting Hill. Notting Hill, babe! Yang ni memang minah glamer. Lagi mahal tempat tu, lagi dia nak. Hancur.

It's such a hassle to relocate. Change GP, find new gym, change of address for all bills and banks, new parking permit, bla bla. Tired lah.

I mentioned to Kfiatek that maybe we should go separate ways but he whines and moans that he can't live all by himself. According to him, I'm all he has left in London after he got dumped and all his friends went back home.

Oh no. What have I got myself into? I know I've been giving him advices, listening to him and encouraging him to move on to better things, but I didn't mean for him to be depending on me.He's a nice bloke, but he's just lazy and take life for granted. Basuh pinggan pun malas. Penat nak clean up after him lah, but if I didn't clean them up I won't have any pots and plates to use. Cis! Ada ke patut dia tak cuci my grill machine for one week and keep on re-using it to grill his chicken everyday until I told him off. Geli aku nak makan lah but he doesn't care. Mangkok ayun betullah. And then moaning about not having opportunity coming his way and stuff. Having no ambition whatsoever and no direction and goals to achieve. He doesn't even know what he wants to do ultimately. No clue. Only after some hard probing on my side, then he got into thinking about his goals but he's still blur.Sigh.

Kekadang aku rasa nak cekik je dia ni. Wake up! Wake up!So, I'm dealing with 3 people who are not sensible in making decisions. Well, decisions that affect me, that is. I am going to do what I want. I'll find a place just for me. They think I'm looking for a place for us all. Sorry lah ye. I'll tell them after two weeks that I didn't find any that fit their criteria, but in fact all along I won't even bother looking for anything except my own place. Memang I jahat and selfish, so what? Even before we moved here, it was me who did all the work, the rest just tagged along. Hah! I gave enough, now it's time for myself.

Tapi kan, nanti I mesti rasa tak sampai hati pulak. Sigh.

Epilog Cinta Dari Bromley

Today, I had an appointment to see a theatre manager in Bromley. I never set foot there before, so I was kind of excited to find out about the town. Every time I saw the name Bromley, it reminds me of the song by Sohaimi Meor Hassan.

First impression as I entered the area, neat. Very nice and quiet residential areas, not too posh and not tooshabby either. The high street is quite well planned unlike some places I went. People are friendly and the manager was even friendlier and talkative (I'm not complaining). And the most important thing is that the town is clean. I didn't see rubbish on the streets or the pedestrian walkway, which is a big A+.

I don't mind living here except it's quite far from M4 motorway which is an essential aspect in choosing a place to live, for me anyway.

The thing I like about the theatres is I usually get a free entertainment and a tour of the place, from the backstage to the seating areas to the bar and the store rooms. Like yesterday, I was at the Theatre Royal in Brighton and most of the time I was left alone to do my work in the foyer next to the entrance to the stage. A whole bunch of the casts went in and started practising their numbers and I got to listen to a free show.A

nother time, I was at a theatre near Strand with my former colleague when the sotong manager took us inside to see Christian Slater rehearsing his lines. We had to act normal and unaffected, but dalam hati Emm and I were so excited and giddy that we just had to let the whole world know about it. The manager even took us to wait at the backstage just in case we could say hi, but CS was busy concentrating on the stage. Unfortunately, we couldn't take pictures because it's a private rehearsal and no paparazzi is allowed. Heh.

Epilog Cinta Dari Bromley
Kau tersenyum manja
Menyatakan hasrat di hatimu
Kau kata kau cinta
Cinta pertama kepadaku
Ku hampir tergoda
Bergelora dalam kalbu
Kau bukan untuk ku
Kau dan aku
Tak mungkin berpadu
Nun di sana beribu batu
Kau kutinggalkan
Bersama hatimu
Nun di sana kau meratap pilu
Satu masa nanti
Kau akan mengerti
Apa maksudku

Kini kau menanti
Harapan mu abadi terhadapku
Kau coretkan lagi
Rahsia hatimu kepadaku
Ku doakan dikau
Bertemu seorang teman sejati
Yang satu aliran
Satu kepercayaan
Aduhai Katie

Dry your eyes, mate.

A few days ago, I received messages from you saying that you've discovered a piece of information about the man you love. You are heartbroken and bruised. My friend, I am sorry I'm not there physically, to offer my shoulders while you are at the bottom. I know how painful it is, for I have gone through it too, though it's now more like a very distant memory.

To love and not be loved is a cruel and hurtful stage in our lovelife. I'm not going to tell you that your life is going to sail smoothly. There will be times when you feel you can't take whatever life is throwing at you and you just want to die. There will be times when you feel you just want to break down and cry. Let it out, my friend. You are entitled to a little self pity. While you're at it, just remember you are the only best thing that happen in your life.

You are worth a thousand more than him. Slowly, you will get back on your feet and you will be laughing again. Your pain will soon heal but the scar will be a reminder that you have learnt a lesson. Be as cynical as you want, but please... please do not give up on love. I haven't.

There is no doubt
He left you without a clue
I know you think (I know it)
You have no future - no future at all
I'll show you how (I'll show you)
How I'll make you not hurt at all
So if we try (if we try)
We'll walk through the moonlight
I'm here when you fall
Dry your eyes, he left you crying
Deep down inside I know you just feel like dying
Dry your eyes, I'm gonna be there for you
Waiting forever
Ever more
Now that he's gone (he's gone)
Can you find the strength to carry on
I'll show you love
Love and compassion - you'll open your heart

Wise words

I picked these up from somewhere. I thought I share them with you readers. Pearls of wisdom for women and men alike.

1. If you love something, set it free. If it comes back, it will always be yours. If it doesn't come back, it was never yours to begin with. But, if it just sits in your living room, messes up your stuff, eats your food, uses your telephone, takes your money and doesn't appear to realize that you have set it free... you either married it or gave birth to it.

2. The nice part about living in a small town is that when you don't know what you're doing, someone else does and won't be shy to point that out.

3. Junk is something you throw away three weeks before you need it.

4. Opportunities always look bigger going than coming.

5. Experience is a wonderful thing. It enables you to recognize a mistake when you make it again.

6. If you must choose between two evils, pick the one you've never tried before.

7. The best way to forget all your troubles is to wear tight shoes.

8. It is easier to get forgiveness than permission.

9. If you look like your passport picture, then you probably need the holiday.

10. Always yield to temptation, because it may not pass your way again.


Hope your life will never be the same again.

Moments of ecstasy and pleasure

Meg entered the room and, with a knowing smile playing about her lips, she sank into the comfort of the plush chair in the corner. The handsome stranger turned, having sensed her approach.

Locking his steely grey eyes on hers, he moved slowly towards her, his experienced gaze measuring her, hypnotising her with his murmurs of assurance.

He sank to his knees before her and without a word, smoothly released her from her constraining attire. With a sigh of surrender, Meg allowed his foreign hands to unleash her bare flesh. He expertly guided her through this tender, new territory, boldly taking her to heights she had never dared to dream of, his movements deliberate, confident in his ability to satify her every need.

Her senses swam. She was overcome with an aching desire that had gone unfulfilled for so long.

And just as it seemed that ecstasy was within her grasp, he paused and, for one heart-stopping moment, she thought, 'It's too big! It will never fit!'

Then with the sudden rush, it slid into place as if it had been made only for her. As pleasure and contentment washed over her, she met his steady gaze, tears of gratitude shining in her eyes. And he knew it wouldn't be long before she returned.

Oh yes, this woman would want more. She would want to do it again and again and again...Oh yes.

Don't you just love shopping for shoes?

Mystical moods

Of a woman
An angel of truth and a dream of fiction,
A woman is a bundle of contradictions,
She's afraid of a wasp, will scream at a mouse,
But will tackle her boyfriend alone in the house.
Sour as vinegar, sweet as rose,
She'll kiss you one minute, then turn up her nose,
She'll win you in satin, enchant you in silk,
She'll be stronger than brandy, milder than milk;
At times she'll be vengeful, merry and sad,
She'll hate you like poison, and love you like mad.


Of a man
One word. Horny.

aku terkencing dalam seluar

I was supposed to go outstation today but delay one day so hooray for blogging! Sebenarnya I was being so emo last night, al maklumlah kan. I still got darah muda you know, even dah tua tua cam ni. Me got worked up and pissed off at the anons because of strings of comments left all over the blogosphere. My take is they're not the sole reason for dz to quit. I guess dz has many other reasons that only she knows. You know lah like work, cats, hanturaya, bomoh, spa and skydiving.... and oh not to forget, she has to cuci taik Farhan with post-it notes. Hehehe... jangan marah ye dz.

Ok.. now that everything is calm I can laugh at myself. Did you read the last line? Come on. Bring it on.Hahaha...macam nak berperang pulak. Eh eh.. memang lah this blog about battles but that one line sounds like perang cheerleaders pulak. Heessh tak kuasa aku.

Masa balik tadi I drove passed the services on M4, dah lepas baru terasa nak terkencing. Celaka betul. Dah ler I mengantuk macam nak mampus sebab tak cukup tidur berdrama semalam. Dah puas dah slapped my face sampai merah pipi tapi tak jalan jugak. So to keep me awake, I rolled down the window. Temp was 3 degree kot.. sejuknyaaaa. Terbeliak bijik mata. Memang mujarab ubat tahan tidur yang ni.

Tapi kan pergi tambah pulak dengan my bladder problem yang dok nak terkeluar sesangat ni, satu kesilapan besar. Memang nak terburai masa tengah driving jugak. Let me tell you a secret. Never rolled down your window kalau nak terkencing. Pengsan. I saw the next services is 20 miles away. Nak berhenti kat tepi jalan, nak mampus? Karang kecut abis bila dok mencangkung. Kalau kat kg, org tua kata hantu ikut lekat kat situ tu. Hmm.. jadi lelaki kan senang.

Wuaaaa... teruknya saya terkemut-kemut menahan. Sepanjang jalan saya berdansa sorang sorang. My hip sekejap lean depan sekejap sandar kat seat. Kejap pakai seat belt kejap bukak. Mana taknya, belt dok tekan perut bila saya menari. Aiyoo

Sampai je kat service station, ingat nak terus lari pi toilet tapi tak boleh. Lesson no 2, jangan bergerak walau seinci pun bila kereta berhenti. Relax dulu, tarik nafas in and out. Kalau tak, basah seluar sebab dia dah dok tunggu depan pintu. Bila rasa dia toleh ke dalam semula, barulah get out from the car ok.

Time ni, muka dah merah and panas. Imagine bila I duduk je atas bowl tu, hhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa lega.

terkencing dalam seluar? eh mana ada.

It's a sad ending but necessary

Yes, it is already late and I haven't gone to bed yet. From anxiety to confusion, to being sad and now I'm mad.

I'm so pissed off and I got so much energy to burn. If anyone was in front of me now, memang dah kena kickboxing dah. Whoever you are, you are such a fucking bastard! Dare comment but a fucking coward that you are, you hide by being anonymous.

I shouldn't be emotional and this is not about me, but when it involves my friends, damn right I will defend them! I'm fiercely loyal and when idiots like you cross the line, enough is enough.

Why are you so envious of people who are trying to pick up the pieces of their life? Do they hurt you? Do they kacau you? Or do they even ask for your money? What have they done that affect you badly? Come out and say it.

At least those who blog and bare their souls on the net, they are honest. We are not perfect, just human full with flaws and yes, we are lost but we are seeking to find the path back to the main road. The least you could do is offer support or if you can't do anything else, just shut the fuck up!

This stupid attitude shows exactly what kind of characters you have. You can say whatever you want to me, I'm ready but be truthful and show that you are not a coward.

The blog that inspired me to write is shutting down within 24 hours. It's heartbreaking to know what the writer has gone through and is still going through, I can only imagine. When you read the writing, you think you know them but the fact is you don't. Writers are public figures but they don't owe it to you or anybody else. They only let you on bits and pieces of their life, but that doesn't mean you know them personally.

Blogging can bring happiness and make you feel relieved but at some point it has been a difficult journey for some. In reality, friends can become enemies and strangers you don't know maybe the gems. This is the path to self discovery. And what a discovery it is for the writer. You shall be missed.

Come one. Bring it on.

A Letter to the Grave

Dear Father,

I don’t know how to begin. The last time I saw you in 1999, you were taken to a mosque and my final chance to say what’s inside of me went out the window. I thought gone were the days of uneasiness and doubtful feelings of an insecure daughter. How wrong I was. Last night after almost 15 years of denial, I broke down.

You were there for us, but you were never there. You were the pillar of the family and the backbone providing us with whatever we asked of you. But Father, did you ever love us? As a person. As your children.

All these years I carried with me a sad thought that you never ever held us in your arms just like a normal loving father should. How could you not do that? How could you never have the desire to at least lift us up and cuddle us? It hurts and I grieved for the missing caresses. It affected me in a way I never wanted to acknowledge it until now. It has shaped me to become a woman I am today. Indifference.

Maybe in your own way, you loved us. You just didn’t know how to show it. The truth is, I don’t know whether I could say I love you. I know I never uttered the words. How could I when you hardly pat my back for my achievements or hug me when I fell off my bike? When I failed my studies, all I wanted was a hug and soothing words telling me everything was ok but to get up and face life again. And when I was getting better, encouraging words would have help too. Did I ever received them? Never. You frowned or smiled, but never showed your true feelings. I know you were proud of me but not once you ever said it to me. Sometimes I needed to hear the words to make me feel better because I definitely can't read your mind.

Showing your emotions doesn’t make you less of a man, Father. You didn’t have to be serious and strong all the time but it seemed to me you never allowed the closeness and tenderness in our life. It looked like you never displayed any interest or paid attention to my emotional needs. And oh how I craved for a little bit of touch from you, but in the end I grew tired of waiting.

I might be able to understand you if, for once, you faltered over in your life because as we grow older, we became wiser too but I never understand you. Was it because you're given away as a child that made you distant? The fact that your parents didn't want you didn't mean that you could treat us the same way you were treated. We needed you. We needed your warmth and love.

I fear you as a father but to respect you, I doubt it. It didn’t take you long before you married again. 5 months, Father. 5 fucking months! She wasn’t even cold yet in her grave when you remarried. And you dare said we were not being fair. Weren’t we entitled to be angry and felt betrayed by you? I resented her but I tolerated her presence and I was cilivised because I didn't know where to vent my anger.

Is it any wonder why I hated going home, even for Raya? I’d rather spend my time with my friends’ families who adopted me into their lives. I see them as a strong family institution and my friends are my family I never felt I had. With them I shared my miseries and my happiness.

Is it any wonder why I have little trust in men in general? They have to earn my trust and show that they are capable of loving or else I would be blinded to see them as you. Believe me, I am a romantic fool. It’s either all or nothing. I don't want my children to feel like what I have suffered emotionally. It seemed like your sons and your other daughter managed to build their lives just fine. All your grandchildren are wonderful and they know how to show their emotions. I love hugging them to show that I love them dearly.

I wish things were different and I wish we were one big happy family, but this is me. I bleed and I was bitter. I’m sorry I didn’t cry at your funeral. Should I?

62.78% Sexually Corrupted

My brain is a sly creature and a jumble of broken sentences. Sometimes, I barely finish saying or making up sentences when I would be rudely interrupted thus making my brain clutters. And sometimes my loud mouth is faster than my head so I ended up saying all the wrong things to the wrong people at the wrong time, which happen to be most of the time. Please, pardon my ignorance.

But when it comes to sex (education or not), I’m all wicked and as good as new. You betcha! The kinkiness of it just brings out the woman in me. You know, some people (if you are men, please exclude yourselves) lived all their life and never went into an adult store. Several of them would like to step foot in it but too scared or ashamed to succumb to their curiosity. A few would carelessly walk in and came out intact, yet there’s only a handful that signed up as a member and kept going back for more. It’s a perfectly natural instinct, but please, there’s no prize for guessing which group I fall into.

The first adult theatre I went to was Olde Un Theatre in Columbia, quite a huge one but since it was the only one of its kind in town, the need for it was understandable. I bumped into it by accident. Just arrived from the homeland, I acquired a bicycle in the middle of a full-blown snowy cyclone season. And one fine day, cold from the breeze and breathless from cycling up the hill, I glanced across the road and saw the sign.

After a few minutes of arguing with myself, I decided I should go in. There were two entrances; one facing the main road and the other was at the side. Parked my bike and put on a very tebal face, I just walked in through the side door. You'd think I was crazy enough to walk in the front door? No way Jose! I was a naive 21 for goodness sake! and didn't I say somewhere that I am shy? And if I tell you what I was wearing on my head at that time, you'd be so freaking surprised!

I was greeted by the sight of so many shelves of videos, magazines, and gifts and another entrance to theater room (they just added 3 more recently). I was stunned for a few minutes and as I walked in, the patrons were stunned too and looked at me as if I just fell from heaven (or hell). I was feeling awkward and sheepish but soon after I got caught up with some sort of twisted excitement in browsing all the stuffs. I can’t believe all the err.. educational and colorful pictures on the cover of the tapes. As I remember, the videos were separated into soft and hardcore yet I found it hard to differentiate. They all looked the same to me.

Another section (this I like) is the sexy silk lingeries, handcuffs, whips and other goodies for bedroom games. I spent over an hour looking through all that while at the same time entertaining wild thoughts. Before I left the place, I put on another brave face and approached the man behind the counter.

Excuse me. How to be a member? (To rent, one has to be a member)

Bring an ID.

An ID? Er.. passport ok?

Sure.

I cycled back with a mixed feeling. Don’t know whether it was due to shock, delight or disbelief. But I never felt the shame.Oh! That place closes at 3 am. So when I couldn’t sleep, I’d …. ahh well, you don’t need to know that.

Btw, I think that store at Mid Valley doesn't even come close to the real ones. Five minutes in there and I wanted out. If they want to have one, why not make an extensive adult store. After all, we are all wicked and bizarre enough, only malu malu kucing in public.

Oh please! Don't blame my two cents for the keruntuhan akhlak of the youngsters. They have been doing a fine job of that on their own.

9:30 p.m.
Just got back home from the freaking office after more than two hours of driving. Hah! That’s the price to pay when an idiot chose to work for a company far from home, not even in the same town. In fact, in another country for goodness sake. *Sigh*

They kept me waiting again. That’s the game they have been playing with me ever since I know them. This time I waited for two days. Monday was supposed to be the day. Then at midday, they said I would get whatever I’m supposed to get later this afternoon. And later this afternoon, they shrugged and said tomorrow morning. I can’t stand it anymore, you....you worms!

The Boss thinks since we slave for him, he can snap his fingers any time he wants. Doesn’t he know I have planned my time accordingly so I can have fewer headaches? People like him will always use people like me. We, softhearted hobbits, can’t seem to say no to people. And the King Kong will always take advantage and step on our heads till we’re buried six feet under.

I have a big problem saying ‘no’ to anybody. Bigger than the tempayan at my grandmother's house. And when I found the courage to do it, I will feel guilty later on. Idiot!

The Mentor keeps telling me to tell them ‘bugger off’. Of course, she didn’t exactly say that exact words but that’s what she meant. Sometimes I wonder how on earth I managed to come knocking at her door. She is soo classy. She doesn’t speak English jalanan that I am used to and I always picture her in the House of Lords. I guess that's life, huh? Connecting people when we least expect it, or was it Nokia? mmm.. whatever!

Yet, I feel at ease with her for she is an understanding superior. Our communication never breaks down unlike Vodafone, which sometimes has no network service. As I recall I rang her six times throughout the day to keep her informed of the waiting game and to grumble over silly thing The Boss asked me to do.

What do I know about electricity other than it can magically allow me to switch on the heater so I can be warm or get the computer working so I can blog? Other than that, Zilch. But The Boss has gone crazy and asked me to go visit a customer and test his equipment (ehem!). Maybe I should give it a try. If I do it right, I’ll get lucky. If not, I’ll get electrocuted.

After sudah rentung, apparently I must be prepared for a classic Hiroshima nightmare as well. Just as I was leaving The Mentor’s place, she dropped a bombshell. By the end of the year, she will gradually cease to direct our team, which at the moment being her and me.I draw a long sigh. Penat.

sexual orientation: yours and mine.

Are you confused about your sexual orientation? If so, you are not alone. I do too. Heck! I'm confused about almost everything.

Most people, who define themselves as heterosexual, at some point in their life, have sexual thoughts towards someone of the same sex. Plus many people who try out sexual behaviors with someone of the same sex will like it, while others are more sexually attracted to someone of the opposite sex.

Simply experimenting with someone of the same sex does not make you gay. Plenty of people who call themselves heterosexual, have engaged in same gendered sexual acts, and plenty of people who call themselves homosexual have never been romantically involved with someone of the same sex.

Thus, you can define your sexual orientation any way you like. All of these categories: gay, lesbian, homosexual, bi-sexual, transgendered, transsexual, pansexual are culturally prescribed labels. Feel free to define your own sexual orientation based on behaviors, or on feelings. What is important, is that you choose to live your life, in the way that feels most comfortable to you.

If you are having confusion about your sexual orientation, ask yourself, the following questions.
1. Have you ever been attracted to someone of the same sex?
2. On multiple occasions, have you found yourself attracted to someone of the same sex?
3. Have you ever fantasized about being with someone of the same sex?
4. Have you ever been sexually aroused while watching a movie where two people of the same gender have been sexual?
5. Have you ever participated in a threesome?
6. Have you ever been with someone of the same sex?
7. Are you more at ease with people of the same gender?

Then ask yourself, how you feel about your answers?
If you answered yes to any of the above questions, then on a scale of 1-100 (one being completely heterosexual, and 100 being completely homosexual) your sexual orientation is somewhere in between. Since there are no hard and fast rules about each label, you may choose one that makes sense to you. Do not ever let people make you feel shitty whatever your sexual orientation is.

For laugh, I took a test to see what my sexual orientation is. I turned out to be pansexual. Go figure!

You are pansexual."Whether you know it or not, you are pansexual. You can find yourself loving a male or female, but you're different from a bisexual. You may also love transgendered, androgynous, and other gender fluid people...people who do not feel they fit into the categories of male or female. When you love, your love is pure."

DEFINITION: Pansexual
One who exhibits or suggests a sexuality that has many different forms, objects, and outlets.
One who exhibits many forms of sexual expression.

My oh my!

Don't run, just take a stroll

Dearly beloved, are you listening? I can’t remember a word that you were saying. Are we demented or am I disturbed? The space that’s in between insane and insecure. Oh therapy, can you please fill the void? Am I retarded or am I just overjoyed? Nobody’s perfect and I stand accused for lack of a better word and that’s my best excuse.

---

How much more can you take before you run away? How much can we hate before we turn cynical? How much can we love before we become vulnerable?

Things that were thrown at me repeatedly. Words that I hear constantly. The same story rips my ears. Shut up! Stop hurting yourself. Just move on. So many things waiting for you. For once, forget your sorrows and take a chance. It will take you places.

Memories are just for you to grow old with. Be a cynic. Be a romantic. Be clueless. Be foolish. Be furious. I don’t care. Just be who you are. I'll give some space but I’m still beside you.

How far can you run?

Damn Pos Malaysia!

Pos Malaysia can go to hell! I am bloody furious with them. KURVA! (Polish word for fucking bitch) Almost a month ago, I sent home two packages and was told that they should get there in a week. I understand that with the holiday seasons, it might be later than usual so I waited patiently.

I have been tracking the packages through Royal Mail and PM websites. One package is now found to be at the local post office awaiting despatch but the other has gone missing. I am still praying for miracle but somehow deep down I know the unethical staff must have claimed it as his.

When a registered mail can go missing, I have no trust in their credibility anymore. It’s not like I’m sending a bomb or virus or anything damaging to the whole country. I have sent my complaint to them, in fact I even wrote to the CEO though I do not know whether I got his email address correct. I doubt that they will reply.

Yes, I can claim reimbursement but I am still entitled to be angry. I just don’t understand their mentality. Those were not intended for them, so don’t fucking open people’s mails. It’s violation of human right, stupid asshole!

My First Few Thoughts in 2005

I just came back from a night out and too tired to write long entry. Will tell my new year tales later but for now, this is what I have to say.

Bloody hell! I’m one year older. I love everything about my life but why can’t I just stay 30? It’s not that I’m ashamed of my age but it just feels right.

Gosh! I don’t even have resolutions. I stop making them years ago when I realized that they never materialized anyway. Plus, I forgot about them every time February comes. So, what is the point of thinking and creating one, then agonizing about it not coming true?

People have been telling me that 2005 will be a GoodYear. And a couple of friends were kind enough to wake me up at 4 am to wish me that. Guys, I do take it as a good sign, okay. Though 2004 passed with a lot of sadness and confusion but it’s a lesson learned. One thing I know is determination will get me everywhere I want to be. It may take me months or even years but I will get there somehow.

‘Keep my feet on the ground’ is what I will be doing this year. Some people may always take my kindness and generosity for granted but I guess I can never change that kind of people or myself. As long as I keep my feet on the ground, I’m content.

To all fellow bloggers, I am honoured to get to know you and your thoughts. Though sometimes I feel very small compared to some of you (my bad writings etc), I tell myself I am still learning. I am just an ordinary person trying to embrace life and embrace I shall. Let us all pray that the New Year will bring lots of joy and happiness in everything we do.

Amin.

Down Memory Lane

Sometimes I find that London is crowding me and fuelling my lung with polluted air. I like London and at the moment I don’t think I can live anywhere else, but once in a while I have to get away from the bustling city life. I had to get out fast to rejuvenate myself. London does have quite a lot of interesting parks whatsoever but it’s a definite no-no (unless I don’t have any other choices) because I think the city is kind of short of fresh air.

I guess the destination of my weekend getaways depends on my mood but they all must be nature induced. I miss the times in MO, where I can just take an hour or two off to Devil’s Ice Box or Finger Lakes. Or the Cosmo Park since they’re all not too far from home.

Anyway, this time I chose to go back to Skipton, located in the Yorkshire Dales National Park (YD). I said back because it is a town where I started my life in the UK and it’s the town that offered me chances. I won’t be able to live there anymore but I will surely go back for it’s wonderful sceneries.

My first job gave me a lot of chances to explore Yorkshire. Armed with a fleet of ice cream vans, my friends and I drove everywhere in the country from busy cities like Cardiff and Leeds to Malham and Dent, two quiet villages in the middle of nowhere.

The work was hard but the rewards were sweeter. I love driving on the single-track road in the dales along side the creeks and sheep with coloured spots on them, looking at me curiously. Sometimes when I wasn’t pressed for time, I would stop and just enjoy the lovely views. I can lose myself and engross in my own thoughts about a happier life and a peaceful world without a care for others. I just wanted to be left alone.

This time around, I had the pleasure of exploring the YD again. It was so refreshing to go back and see it from the eyes of tourists. Walking at a slow pace without the need to hurry, I find that the view is and will always be magnificent. And I can’t help but sing What a Wonderful World. For a while there, I felt connected with the world of cattle and vast countryside.

My Fairy Goddaughter

Earlier today, a little girl was born to a lovely couple. She will be the apple of her parents though her name is not Apple.

After all the scares her mom went through, she's finally out and about, sharing the same breathing space with us. She has tiny fingers and toes and she's a month early but in no time at all she will start kicking and jumping around.

Before she opens her eyes, she has already been given a book, A Little Lamb, but she has a long wait before she can start turning the pages. Once she knows how to use a girl's charm, she'll wrap us around her little fingers and not let go. With many uncles and aunties around to spoil her, she won't be short of anything.

Little Ellynor Sofia, welcome to our world. Be good, ok.

Melayu losers? He can't be..

Last March when I was back home, my nephew, who is 14, mentioned about his schoolteachers being a prick. Well, that is actually my word, not his.

You see, he goes to Maktab Mahmud. In Kedah, it is quite a difficult school to get in because they only choose the bright ones and the boys were interviewed for their Arabic and Quran knowledge. The school is considered a prestigious academic institution that balances the dunia and akhirat. Or so I guess.

It seems like lately the teachers are ignoring Afiq in classes because he always put his hand up to answer questions. He is not a Know-It-All boy but because he is encouraged to be proactive in school by his mother and me, he became a bit confident. We always told him that it doesn’t matter whether his answer is right or wrong, he has to speak up. He did follow our advice, and because he is a bright boy he mostly got the correct answers.

My sister and I were horrified by his stories that his Math, Science and English teachers are now closing one eye and pretending not to see his raised arm. I understand completely the case where there is always someone in the class who has the answer to everything and annoys other pupils. But now that I am older, I would actually appreciate the situation because indirectly he or she is sharing the knowledge.

Obviously, the teachers think that Afiq is irritating and showing off. It looks like they are against him. As a result, he is now a little bit discouraged and reluctant to participate, as he sees no point in it. I

n this time, where everything around us evolves so fast, we have to keep up to the changes or else be left behind. Yet, the Malaysian education system is still far behind compared to the fast paced Malaysian technology and industry.

I am tired of listening to the Cabinet Ministers who keep reminding all to master the English language. I am tired of reading reports that local undergraduates should master languages including English to excel in education as well as to ensure a brighter future.

What is the whole point of these reminders when a kampung boy like Afiq (and I’m sure there are lot more boys and girls like him) found the courage to speak up and was shot down faster the bazooka being fired? They die without even trying. And people are complaining that the youngsters can’t speak good English or lack self-confidence? Duh!

The local undergrads are worse. At this level, they just didn’t want to try anymore and always finding excuses for lack of ability to speak English. Malulah. In kampung, people don’t speak English. Takut salah. Tak pandai. Takut orang kata showing off.

Nothing anyone could do to change this attitude until they themselves have the awareness and want to change. In the meantime, they’re just a bunch of losers. I do not want Afiq or any of my anak buah to end up like the rest of Melayu losers, so I’m going to keep pushing him. My sister, on the other hand, used a very direct approach. She filed a complaint with the school about his teachers. Bravo Sis. His teachers can eat shit!

Dark Side of Life

Life is hard. Nobody ever said that it’s a piece of cake. All the frustration, disappointment and later on the achievement and happiness make up a complete set of life cycle. You and I have been through a lot, no matter how old we are. A young girl of 18 experiences the kind of feelings just the same as a 45-year-old woman if loneliness has its way. Even a mature man can act like an adolescent if he kept his frustration boiling inside. There must be a way to deal with all these. That’s what we are here for. To find a way to get around it.

Running away, however, is not an option anymore.

There was a girl I once know very well. In her early life, she had love and guidance. Her mother died when she barely finished university. She only cried once when she helped bathe her mother and didn’t cry again when the coffin was taken to the mosque and her mother was buried next to the grandparents. Things were blur and distant. She never shed any tears at the airport when she left her family in pursue of better education.

She was lost. Angry. Hurt. Life was unfair. She turned rebellious and became comfortable with her loneliness. She kept on smiling, but deep down she had a darker side. Instead of dressing like the next-door girl, she put on black attires from head to toe. Black lipstick. Black nail polish. Black shades. Black eye shadow. She was being pulled into a cult obsession. Reading materials were of satanic society, black magic and superstitious being.

Six months later, she finally broke down and cried in her sleep when the vision of her mother came in her dream. Her mother was holding out her hands and reaching for the girl before the girl destroys herself completely. The girl wept endlessly on the bed. It was a very sad image, but somehow it brought her back to the ground.

Her solitude continued but in a different way. She found peace by going for walks at the lakes, holding a fishing rod and enjoying the nature. Being the youngest, she had her sister and brothers as role model but she felt the love and guidance slowly changing. In her mind, she was on her own struggling to move on while the rest of the family got on with their own life. She was not sure what to do with hers. Her father followed the path of her mother soon after and this time she was truly by herself. She kept well away from family gatherings because she didn’t feel she belongs anymore.

People saw her as a happy person, who probably has no fear at whatever being thrown at her. But in reality, she drifted from job to job, found no happiness and slowly going into the state of depression. She was scared. Along the way, there were real friends who stood by her and never got tired of giving encouragement. They believe in her.

She is slowly getting back on her feet although it is taking her 8 years to get there. From a distance, there is a light at the end of the tunnel and the light won’t go off unless she pulls the switch. The bitter girl I once knew has slowly changed and become a new person with more positive vibes. It will take her a while to fully recover and reach her peak, but she is heading towards the right direction. And she wants me to let you know that she is still smiling and her darker side has shrunk, but not completely gone.

No problem, mate!

Telephone conversation is addictive. I was chatting on the phone with The Mentor for more than an hour from 17:11 to 18:43. Gosh, since I started driving from Winchester till I got home and parked in front of the flat. The Mentor always has something to say and after she finished giving some pep talk about work, we moved on to personal matters.

I mentioned to her that my boxing class is horrifying but awesome and I am having a good time, even though I can hardly lift my arms. My whole body is so sore from all the punches, jabs and kicks, and when I had to shift the gear while driving, the left arm just hurts so much. It’s a nightmare but odd enough, I am going back for more.

During our long chat, I told her about the talk I had with Martin last night. I am at a point where I am getting a bit frustrated because it seems like there is no two-way interaction. He keeps moaning, yet he does nothing about his situation. A lot of people talk to him and try to help; but I think that whatever advice people gave him just goes out through the window. He gave up easily and when he finally did something, I don’t think he tried hard enough. I don’t know what else I can do to help this guy. Hah! I needed help myself.

As we progressed, The Mentor had a go at me and pointed out my weaknesses. According to her, I need to toughen up because I am too giving and too softhearted. I always do something for someone without hesitate and didn't expect people to return a favour, which I think is true. Last week I helped moved this huge wardrobe from her house to her mother’s house in my little van. For me, this thing is nothing. It is something you would do for a friend. I would gladly do it again and again. She said to me she is waiting for me to ask for a favour and if I did, she would do anything for me, but she knew I wouldn’t ask. Wow! This coming from the director of company I work for. Some people wouldn’t miss this opportunity to ask a person of her position, but not me. I can’t do it and even if I can, I don’t know how. That’s the way I am.

Every now and then, when a friend asks for a favour, it’s always no problem for me. Last year on three separate occasions, I was busy travelling around the country doing my job but I keep a place in west London. I was going to Edinburgh when a friend called up several times and said his friends needed a place to stay. I didn’t know the girls but I left the key to my room with my housemate. They came and stayed there for a few days and when I came back, they already moved out since they found their own place. We never even met! Unbelievable. What if one of them was a psycho? But then again, you can’t go thinking too much about it either. What if they were just harmless and desperately needed the help?

The thing is you can’t just help someone and expect to be rewarded. It’s not ikhlas then. When I offer my help to someone, they do not have to return the favour but instead they can turn around and help someone else. You know, like Pay It Forward the movie. Plus, I always think we should lend a helping hand whenever we can because we just never know when we will need it back. Today is my happy day, but tomorrow could be my unlucky day.

The lesbian in me

In October 2003, I went backpacking in Central Europe. It was one of the best times in my life, for I felt so free and uninhibited. Amsterdam is one of the many cities on my travel itinerary. Boy! I tell you, it is a bloody damn expensive city but a wonderful place, nonetheless.

Travelling alone, I had the flexibility of changing plan as often as I wish. As I walked all over downtown, I came across this little hut that sell lots of touristy stuffs and gay souvenirs. Goody, I thought to myself. I could get something for my gay friends. After I belek here and belek there, I decided to get a couple of postcards, a miniature of gay men kissing and a guide to gay nightlife in Amsterdam.

The hut keeper and I started talking about the guidebook and he was so helpful by pointing out to me the location of some of the best gay clubs in the city. Assuming that I was a lesbian, he asked me how difficult was it to come out from the closet in a country like Malaysia. Gobsmacked! I thought it was quite funny and I can’t stop smiling, but somehow I managed to tell him that it was quite difficult to be a lesbian in our society.

Though I can’t say what it’s like to be gay since I’m not a full blown one, I imagine it is rather hard for them to come out. I have two friends who are so much in love with each other but they can’t come out and be themselves, knowing what awaits them. All the humiliations, punishments and titles society will bestow upon them. It is rather sad. Not everybody is like you and me, who can accept gay people for who they are.

Last night before falling asleep, I have this thought playing hide and seek in my head.

If I were a lesbian, I would like to shag Rebecca Gillis a.k.a Jacinda Barret. She is a gorgeous chick with innocent look and serene poise. Who is she? Check out the lesbian chick in Bridget Jones 2. I think she has small breasts but what the heck; it is not the end of the world. I wonder what it is like to kiss her. If I were Bridget, I would dump Mark Darcy on the spot.

Surrogate nenek

A few days ago, I received a text message 'Opah meninggal'. My heart suddenly stopped beating for two seconds and I find it quite difficult to breathe. She was one fine lady.

She wasn't my Opah and no, we were not related, either by blood or by marriage.

It all started when I came back after finishing my studies and eager to start the working life. Coming from Kedah, it was quite difficult to get a job just by sending letters to potential employers. So, my friend and I decided to pack our bags and try our luck in KL. Before we could stand on our own feet, we stayed with her aunt and family, and Opah at Kg Pandan.

Never in my life before I heard orang Perak speaks Malay. It was such a linguistic shock to me, trying to understand each word or jokes traded between them. Whenever I didn't understand anything, I just grinned and laughed at myself. Opah was very good at telling stories and boy! she could tell you a lot. Most of the times, I had a translator who pitied me and let me on the stories.

She usually started her stories like 'Zaman bard dulu...' I am sure you're wondering what the heck is bard? It was her word for JWW Birch. So zaman bard is actually the time when the British had a forceful influence, having appointed Bard as the first British Resident in Perak. Though she wasn't around at Bard time,she had wonderful life experiences because she grew up during the time when the world was in chaos and our nation was struggling for her own identity.

She would relate each story to a real person and how that person make an impact on the history. Like the time when the first PM trying to negotiate our independence. All of the orang kampung, rich or poor, helped by donating whatever savings or gold they had, just to buy Tunku a plane ticket to London. She remembered that day clearly and painted the picture to me and her grandchildren. She was so passionate and proud to be part of something so big. The kind of things we never read in our history text books.

When she was living in KL, she actually had her eyes wide open to the ongoing sagas, gossips or development. You would think that a nenek from kampung wouldn't know what was going on in the social circle of KL life. Well, you're wrong. She could tell you whos who or which clubs to avoid. She loved taking a bus (I think it's No. 32 Metro Bus) to the town. She even told us that years ago, KL did try to use a double decker like the red London bus but to no success. She even had the opportunity to ride in one before the plan was abandoned. For some reason, I didn't quite believe the story but I was sure she wasn't lying. She was very particular about ethics and honesty.

Her knowledge of English wasn't so bad either, though she made it her own version. I laughed so hard when I first found out what she meant by 'setempeket'. It was her version of 'certificate'. And not to forget the words 'renen' and 'statmet' being 'raining' and 'estimate'. She was hilarious and a very sporting nenek.

The stories stopped coming after she became weak and diagnosed with cancer. She was fighting for her life and sadly, last week her fight ended. She was a beautiful lady in every sense of the word and I hope she had lived her life to the fullest. Though she wasn't flesh and blood, I loved her.

Al-Fatihah to you, Opah. You will be fondly remembered.

Bad memories are bad

Yesterday, I was running around all over the country making a complete triangle from London to Newport to Bradford and back to London. All within 14 hours. When I got home, I just can't be bothered with the pillow pat 'cos I needed the sleep. By right, I should be tired and miserable, but truthfully I wasn't. I was happy to get out of my home office and cruise the motorway.

Since it was quite a long drive, I can't help but started to think about the good and bad memories. The good ones made me smile silly, but the bad ones made me think deeper. The Two-Faced Man came back haunting my mind even though this happened almost eight or nine years ago. The day I found out he was cheating on me. I guess I was to be blamed too for not noticing the lame excuses and broken promises. When he said he'd call and didn't, I rang him instead and forgot everything else when I heard his voice. He was sweet and caring and damned was I naive.

Long distance relationship sure didn't work for me. Once I turned my back, he found someone else. The thing that hurt most was he didn't have the decency to admit that he wanted out. Could have save us both the heartache. What was in his mind? Did he think he could have had both girls? Slimy bastard.

He made me wary of other men. I won't give my heart freely and have it stomped all over again. I don't even know whether I have a heart anymore. I feel numb. Every relationship I had these days is like a one night stand and I won't let it go further than that. Flirt and fling. That's my motto.

Maybe I'll find someone who will share my dreams, or maybe I won't. Sometimes, I don't care. That's the phase in my life I want to forget and weep I shall not.

Help me, please?

When I was young
I never needed anyone
And making love was just for fun
Those days are gone

Living alone
I think of all the friends I've known
When I dial the telephone
Nobody's home

All by myself
Don't wanna be
All by myself
Anymore

Hard to be sure
Sometimes I feel so insecure
And loves so distant and obscure
Remains the cure

All by myself
Don't wanna be
All by myself
Anymore

All by myself
Don't wanna live
All by myself
AnymoreI never needed anyone


-----

Sometimes it is so easy to cry, but when the hurt was buried inside for a long time, your tears will soon dry. Our hearts have been sliced and ripped apart, yet we still managed to pick ourselves up and moved on. As we grow older, we see things for what they are and not just the silver surface covering the ugly truth.

When I was young, foolish and full with romantic notions, I go ‘oohh aahh’ over the fairy tales of happy ending. Bruised and broken hearted years later, I believe that life is not just a whirlpool of romances. Sweet nothings whispered before, are now distant memories. Yet, however hard we tried to paste a smile on our face, these feelings sneak up on us and break us again, and again.

I did not plan for this thing to happen and I wish it didn’t happen. But the devil somehow found his way in. I did something I haven’t done for a long while. I wasn’t in a party mood so I opted to watch The X Factor and Simon Cowell. Btw, he’s cocky, witty and so much fun to watch, and I like him. I was enjoying the show and pining for Steve and Cassie to get through to the final. When it was her turn to sing, Cassie put her soul into this beautiful song, and makes me cry. My friends will tell you that I cry for the silliest reason one can think of, a TV advert, chick flicks or even a patriotic song. I became sebak. So what? Sue me! Anyway, her huge powerful voice reached inside of me and breaks my drought. This time, I cried because I actually listen to words and to the music.

That got me into thinking, what if I was not afraid? What if I’d taken a chance and gamble away? My whole life would have been altered and I would probably have a totally different personality and lifestyle. But is it a different lifestyle what I want? Or was I really looking to change my personality altogether? What am I? Who have I become? Will I end up just by myself? I tell you, I am physically stabled but emotionally disabled. The truth is I am terrified of what lies ahead of me. I still have many good years left but I don’t know what is coming up or how I will face it.

Maybe because we are living in our comfort zone that we didn’t realize that there is a big bad world outside. Or maybe because we close one eye and pretend that the world is not too cruel after all. Why should we be scared of something we didn’t know?

A friend said she didn’t want to wake up when she’s 40, and still do the same things she did a decade ago. Things she said hit the truth and pulled me back to real life. I can’t be wasting my time goyang kaki and living life as it is. Come on, I used to be so proactive and fresh with ideas. Friends were abundant and activities were never hard to find. Now, life is like a stale biscuit. I feel so small compared to rest of them. I am like a tiny drop of sweat in the bluest lake. I am ugly and smelly while the rest is beautiful and smooth.

Should I do something to change it? If I wait for things to materialise in front of me, then I will have a long wait because the way things are at the moment, it’s moving neither vertical nor horizontal.

Have no fear. Life is short. I want to discover a lot of things. My sense of adventure is screaming to me to do something but I haven’t been listening. I want to learn a new language, and perhaps go paragliding for once. I want to explore the world's treasures and Inca ruins, and contribute something back to my society.

Where is my inner strength when I need it most? In today's world, everything comes with a price. Commitment costs a fortune thus making it a puzzle whether it's worth my time. At the same time, I want to love and be loved. I want to have kids even if it means adopting. I want to be included but I am afraid of rejection. I want to conquer my fear but my steps are small. The worst of all, I am scared of the pain. Period. I don’t even know where to begin.

Foreplay of Life

I have this weird feeling that something is calling me. I feel it whispering to my ears and seducing my body. The sweet voice is making me dizzy with its wonderful promises. Telling me to come slowly and not glancing back. Hustling me down the lane and not slowing for me to take my breath. Panting all the way up the hills and still wanting for more. Grasping the layers of the sky and letting go of all the inhibitions. Slipping down many slopes and pushing myself up again, this is the way to do it. It is my destiny. I was born to strive for glory. I make who I am. I am what matters. I am gifted with capable hands. And with my hands I will rock the world. I will mark my place. I will find me. Climax.

I haven't stop searching.

Drowning in the crowd

Entry posted before Raya 2004


Now that Eid is just round the corner, I feel sad. I wish I were back home with the family, making biskut raya and ketupat rendang. I just realize today how much I miss the balik kampung excitement and the raya feeling. I am alone in a strange land and no countryman to celebrate with. The only Muslim compatriot with me celebrates Eid in his own way. Btw, he's a man, what does he know about raya goodies?

When I was little, my family was just ordinary working class people. My father was a teacher just ordinary working class people. My father was a teacher and mum a housewife. Every raya we had a blast just getting things done from hanging up new curtains to vacuuming the whole house and of course, preparing the food. Mum would bake some cakes and thousands of baulu for us and her customers. She didn't have to do that because she was always careful with money and considering that we lived in Alor Setar, things were a lot cheaper. She had a passion for food, be it cooking, baking or just plain eating. So when she started baking baulu for raya and since she made really good ones, people were quite taken with it because normally they would just buy them. Soon after, she received quite a lot of orders from friends, cousins, dad's colleagues and neighbours. From 300 pieces turned to 1,500 turned to 10,000 or more. I was only 9 years old and had been appointed as her assistant. The best job I could ever want at that age. My mission, to find all the burned baulu and eat them. Who was I to argue?

Normally, she would start the day at 6 am just to prepare the ingredients. By 7 am, the Moulinex was up and running battering the eggs, sugar and flour for the mixture. The dapur minyak was ready and the sabut kelapa burning incessantly on a big aluminium plate waiting for the first batch. She put some sand in the periuk to avoid the acuan from getting direct heat from the dapur minyak. Then she would cover the periuk with the sabut so that the baulu were cooked thoroughly from the top to the bottom.

Every few minutes she would check to make sure they were not burned because if they did, then they'd be handed to me for further inspection. Sometimes she let me have the pretty ones as well. When they were nicely browned, she took them out and waited for them to cool before packing them away. Being a mum, she just knew that I had my eyes on them. For me, a slightly warm baulu was the best baulu you can ever eat. By 1 pm, she'd be ready to fold up for the day and if she made more than 1,000 pieces, it was considered a successful day. All this was not for money, but she did it because she didn't know how to say No when people asked her and because she got the pleasure of seeing people faces lighten up. She charged just RM10 for 100 pieces and that was still cheap considering the efforts, time and energy she put in. From 6 am till 1 pm just for a pitiance!

As I got older, she would continue making them and I was allowed to help with the baking process as well. It's kind of delicate because you just have to know the right timing since you can't have the bottom part of the baulu burned and the top part paled. It doesn't go that way. They have to balance to get a perfect baulu.

Did I mention she had a great passion for food? Oh, I did. Well, it didn't stop with the baulu. She went out of her way to learn new things. She would sign up for cooking classes just about anywhere and because she didn't drive, my father was her chauffeur. This was in the 80s, there was no Chef Wan to celoteh in the box at the luxury of one own home. She learned about baking delicious-looking cakes that could only be found in a posh bakery in KL. She also learned to cook asparagus in a lot of different ways when the word asparagus still sounds a bit foreign to many. When she heard there were some cooking competitions, she would gladly join in. Sometimes she won something, sometimes she didn't. It didn't matter to her.

It was the learning that matters. I guess she passed on her passion to us, my sister and I. She would come home and experiment with her new found toy of the day and her enthusiasm rubbed on us. By the age of sixteen, I sold my almost-perfect Kek Batik (the one with biskut marie and choc fudge) to my first customer. This was the day when Kek Batik was not one of the crazed raya goodies like today. And when I was seventeen, she handed over the raya baulu business to me with extra added guarantee that I could keep all the money to myself. What joy! If I had my way I would have raise the price, yet she still charged them the same. She was slowing down. She had enough. Time to move on and pass down her knowledge to the daughters.

From then on, we put our foot down and conquer the territory, with her looking over our backs. All the odd baking trays she bought years ago and the thick recipe books were now a shared asset. Every raya we went crazy with the baking and ended up with 20 odd different cookies and at least 6 types of cakes to suit everyone's taste. It wasn't greed or lust or simply nafsu but it was the passion. Her passion had become ours. Her recipes had become our little secret. Raya was the time of the year we waited in anticipation, to showcase our abilities and to make her proud. As Kedahans, hypothetically we should only know ketupat palas. But no, mum made us learn to make the ketupat nasi the authentic Johorian way. So we had the best of everything. These were for us.

Sadly, yesterdays were just yesterdays. Since mum left us, we lost our touch. The passion was buried with her. Raya is just another day to get over with. We used work as an excuse for lack of goodies. The things we used to DIY now came in plastic tupperwares. We make do with the mass production of manufactured biskut raya that were usually left in its sorry state. They're for the guests and I myself certainly do not want to gorge on them. Baulu, I avoided at all cost. Haven't had one since I was 21.

Now with me being away in a foreign land, my sister would have a tough time to resurrect the old raya tradition. I wish I can go to her. I wish she can catch hold of my hands so I will not drown any deeper. I wish I can hold on tight to her. I wish for laughter and noisy raya morning. I wish for a calm and peaceful raya prayer. I wish to hand out duit raya personally and see the nephews and nieces shriek with happiness. I wish for a ketupat. I wish for mum.

Americans oh! Americans...

Very weird la, a few days ago I wrote about people and their stupid questions and today I heard it was mentioned on the BBC radio. They must have read my blog!

Apparently, the Tourist Board in Roma complains that many many tourists roaming there, oh and get this, especially Americans love asking silly billy questions.

Hey Romans, welcome to my world!

Further evidences:
At the Sistine Chapel, "Where's the other fifteen?"

At Pisa, "Is this where Jesus was born?"

At Eiffel Tower, "It's not as lean as I thought"

In South France, "You have moon too?"

Aisayman, so terrible. Maybe I should collect all the questions and send to a publisher. Mana tau boleh buat duit from these idiots :) I mean the thought of everyone has their own moon might be cool, but than I guess we better not sleep 'cause it'd be too bright round the clock.

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Act intelligent!

Neanderthal of the 21st Century

I am a simple me.

I don’t wear designer labels. I don’t drive a merc. I didn’t go to Ivy League school. I don’t eat at a posh restaurant. I don’t own fancy tech gadgets.

I am just I.

I drive a funky little van. It’s a Vauxhall if anyone wants to know. I am awkward with good-looking intelligent people. I am shy and usually closed-mouth (that's why I blog). I sometimes wear jeans when I go to work. I eat at warung and kebab takeaways. I use an old third-hand (or maybe fourth) PC passed down to me. The only latest brand-conscious-item I have is a cute red Sony digicam, bought because I was greedy and wanted to show off to my good friend who has a Nikon. Which I can point out was unnecessary because I now keep it safe in the drawer at all times. Hah! Pathetic nutcase.

Two weeks ago, an Iraqi immigrant who is an engineer working in Brent Cross came for dinner at my flat. Well, I didn’t invite him, my flatmate did. From the first moment he started talking I knew I wouldn’t like this guy, but since it’s Ramadhan, I shouldn’t let him get to me. There were five of us in the lounge talking to each other while waiting for the iftar when this chap asked me and another guess, Aneta, what we do for a living. If you knew me, you’d know that I wouldn’t brag about my job so I just shrugged and said I work at an ice cream factory. And Aneta said she would start work at the same ice cream factory. But both of us didn’t mention what we actually do.

Thinking that we both are 3rd class immigrants and have low-life jobs, he started rambling about how a person has to have good education to get a better life, and telling us to go find a college to study some courses that offer a certificate or diploma or even better, a degree. Because according to him, until we do that we won’t be able to find a good job with good pay check. He gave himself as an example that he studied hard and that took him to where he is now. A chief engineer. All the while, I was boiling inside because of his chauvinistic comments. And again, if you knew me I’m not easily rattled since I like to keep my cool.

At one point, I lost my cool and said, “I went to a university and I’ve got a degree and she’s got one as well.” I wasn’t trying to show off but I just want to kick his teeth!

As if he doesn't believe me, he responded with a smirk on his face, “Do you? Well, yeah but you have to find a job that can make you happy and give comfortable living, like my job. What for you work hard but get so little money?”

“Eh, hello? You do not know about my job or me. So please do not make any assumption. I make enough and I am happy with my job. I am satisfied, why should I look for something else?” For which he kept silent.

I hate an argument. I would rather watch from the side than getting involved in one. I hate chauvinistic Neanderthal who thinks they know better, gloats about their achievements and thinks that the helpless little women should stay at home with one hand on the ‘rotan’ and one hand ‘selak kain’ waiting for them to come back.

He still doesn’t know anything about my job and I rather keep it that way. I am not a walking advertisement. I don’t care what people say as long as I am happy with my choice. Who are they to tell me? My life is about me. You stupid chauvinist, go fuck yourself!

Gucci loafers with holes

THE MORON IS NOW A FUCKING BLOODY OXYMORON. A LEGITIMATE BASTARD WITH A BRAIN OF A SHOE.

Driving home from Cambridge and laughing at Radio One silly joke about Senator Kerry calling a Job Centre in Sunderland looking for a job since he can't be a President, it was quite comforting to know we can still laugh at small things even if the world is in an uproar.

Somehow I was thinking, surely this feeling couldn't last and sure enough some stupid idiot had to text Scott Mills with one question, who is Paul McCartney?

To say I was stunned is an understatement. I may not be crazy over The Beattles but I know these guys with the funny haircut back then. Who doesn't? We all knew the crazed they created with our mothers' generation or how huge of a success they tasted. They were also in the list of BBC 100 Great Britons but wait a minute.. here was a Brit chap who dared ask such question. Duh!?

How ironic because it was only last night my flatmate, M came home and started to ramble about stupid people asking stupid questions. Apparently he and his colleagues were talking about the new EU countries when someone asked, "Is there such country as Hungary?" After a long discussion with him, M concluded that Britain is full with ignorant idiots and then off he went to bed.

It may be unfair to make such bold conclusion yet I cannot help but think of other similar incidents my mates and I have experienced. Back in the old days when I was living in MO, some average working class American had the gut to ask me whether we Malaysians still live on trees. At another time, my other flatmate told me that she was asked whether Poland is in Europe and that person swear he thought Poland is in Asia. This came out of a 40-year old man, for goodness sake! And the same chap thought Argentina would be included in the EU!

Oh my God, why on earth do I have to share the breathing space with these morons? Try asking them where Chad is and I am sure they'll have a blank face. I may have made sweeping generalisation in my comments but at least I know for sure that we learn the world geography in our teens and can tell the difference between an Asian and a European country for that matter.

Once in a while, I get all worked out over such comments when I know I shouldn't. Let them be stupid, why should I care? I can't be bothered with these pitiful rednecks, who are happy to wait on tables or work as prison guards and come home to watch football, drink three pints, watch ball games on Sundays and ended up betting on Fearless James at Epsom Derby and don't give a shit about the rest of the world!