Arysa Aida

Chief Powwow says Bow

2004-11-17T08:41:00.000+08:00

I am leaving.

In the unlikely event that you know of an opening for a food critic somewhere, please write.

God speed.

2004-11-12T13:04:00.000+08:00

Non called and insisted to read this out loud

“A Scorpio woman is private, deeply mysterious and highly passionate. You will never know what she’s really thinking. Ruled by Mars, she is fiercely protective of her friends and can be formidable in the face of the enemy. Determined and stubborn, the Scorpio woman has stamina, tenacity and staying power. Sexual; intense and emotional, she’s the one with the gutter and silk thigh highs under the prim tweed suit.”

…for she claim to be nodding to every single word, thinking of me.

Stubborn? Me?

Sheeshh…

2004-11-11T13:33:00.000+08:00

Feed me I’m HAPPPYYYYYY!!

I suffer from a psychological problem: while fasting, my body shuts down beginning Asar. This must relate to my early fasting experience – to come home from religious school completely knackered every afternoon. Man, the psychological impact is likely to stay for life!

On this shut down mode, I’d be extremely quiet – if you’re lucky. This fluctuates of course, and I can get very bitchy and violent too. Poor Malena’s Mr. Mine was together with us in the car one time and he later asked Malena, “She tak pernah puasa ke?”

(To which she responded nonchalantly “No lah. She gets like this even when she’s not fasting, but extremely hungry”)

This fasting month is no different. But I try not to bite my colleague’s head off during the day, and reward myself with insanely good food at iftar.

The girls took me out last Monday for my birthday dinner. The pizza was excellent, the pasta delightful, the Cajun Grill fineeee, and the tiramisu & bananone were heavenly. And the gang got me a very sweet card, and this oh-so-gorgeous corduroy jacket that I’ve been longing for but could not afford.

The next day we tagged along Sicko to the buffet at Shangri-La. We stepped into the dessert stretch to come before a Chocolate Fountain.

O sweet Lord!

It was like having a water feature in the middle of the buffet table. Except that, instead of water, it was chocolate. Instead of leaves and frog ornaments around it, there were strawberries, grapes & marshmallows. Instead of fishes in it, I was the one hoping to bathe in it!

What you do is prod the fruits with a skewer and dunk it deep into the fountain. The result? *Blood boiling body shaking* Orgasmic.

I have indeed found my one true love. Food. And my love is pure. My love is true.

And as George Ber-NARD (Yin, take note) Shaw said –
there is no sincerer love than the love for food.
I could have said the same thing, but it wouldn’t have carried the same impact.

I think about food as often as men think about sex – every 30 seconds.

On not having Sex

2004-11-07T10:06:00.000+08:00

I uphold that heterosexual men and women can be platonic friends.

To me, friends are friends. They so happen to be female. Or male. She-male. Whatever. To me, my connection and wavelength with the other person overrides the gender factor.

I like to consider myself to have many friends. Those fun to hang out with; those to go to the movies with; those few who’d drop everything and come by my side in my time of need; those I haven’t seen in years, but the next time we saw each other again, it was like we never lost touch; those I ask for advice; those patient ones who listen to my endless rants and put up with my moods.

And yes, they are both gals and guys. Do I have to limit my connections simply because some of them have dicks and I’ve got a hole?

Of course platonic relationships may get trickier if your partner doesn’t believe in it. You may get into trouble trying to convince him/her that having the opposite gender as friends has nothing to do with his/her own inadequacies and that you are in no way trying to find another partner.

We are all adults. And we trust (no?). We must know our limits. For me the acid test is simple - for whatever I mind my partner to be doing, I won’t do it too. This works both ways. As some of us are more liberal in our approach (and some others more conservative), you both as partners need to establish what is okay between the two of you.

This goes back to the real intent, of course. In being friends with the opposite sex, you always know if your intent is clear or you’re fishing for more.

The latter is clearly a different scope altogether. For the moment you want something more from the other person, it is no longer platonic. The moment you want something more, cut the crap of “Oh if I can’t have him/her, at least I want him/her as a friend”. Because you’ll always carry a glimmer of hope within you, silently praying that one day, your “friend” will come around. Please, if you are in this situation, stop kidding yourself and you're better off sucking an egg.

But another question arises – what if your platonic friend wants to take a step further? Yes this is likely to happen too.

Someone said to me recently, “We are easily clouded between friendship and a sense of attachment. We mistake understanding and passion.”

This got me thinking. Maybe, in every platonic relationship, one of you will reach a crossroad – could there be more to this? If so, at this point, both need to know where the other is standing. If both decides to give it a try, great! If not, hopefully you’re both mature enough to let go and remain close all the same.

Yin told me, “There’s no such thing as being platonic when you’re pretty”. To which, Malena agreed (though I do not think she knew I was quoting Yin).

Thing is, Malena has been hot all her life. Her experiences of men befriending her either ended with a marriage proposal over chicken rice or getting pounced at in the car at the end of the first innocent outing. I honestly do not know which of the two is worse.

I, on the other hand, look like Steve Urkel from Family Matters. Well, back in school at least.
(This is where you realize that all my claims to be a hot chick are cock talk) Whatever it is, despite how hot I claim myself to be, I don’t expect every Tom, Dick & Harry to be interested in me.

Hot or not, I’ve realized that being ok with platonic relationships is not common. My sangka baik attitude and friendliness has landed me more share of trouble than needed. Riz claimed that I’m a natural flirt and AA does not only stand for Alcoholic Anonymous, but also Arysa Anonymous. Ah sweetie, if the latter do exist, you'd make an automatic member *wink*

I admit that platonic relationships are tricky. If he/she has indicated interest, and you have said no, how can you be sure that staying friends will not give him/her hope? On one hand you do not want to lose the friendship, but on the other you do not want to lead the other person on. Tough judgment call eh?

All the same, can platonic relationships exist? Hell yes. So Malena, does this answer YOUR entry?

*muahh*

2004-11-05T15:15:00.000+08:00

This morning, it wasn't the lack of powder or colours on my face that was commented upon. Instead,

"How can you wear blue suits, mustard coloured handbag, and black shoes? I thought you bought your stuffs matched to your other stuffs as well?"

Justifications in my head:

blue suits - fresh from the dry cleaners (read: no early morning ironing)
mustard coloured handbag - not ok ah? (read: it matched whatever I was wearing yesterday)
black shoes - I feel like black flats today (read: I feel like black flats today)

But did I say anything?

Nahh...

I salam her hand, kissed her on the cheeks and headed for the door.

2004-11-04T09:16:00.000+08:00

mood: pastel

song in my head: And I (Boyzone)

smell: Sicko's sick car freshener

tummy says: I'm HUNGGRYYYY!!!

... and it's only 9 in the morning...

2004-11-02T16:49:00.000+08:00

The rain was heavy last night, so I ended up bunking over at Shir’s.

This morning, I had no other options but to borrow some of Non’s clothes to go to work. It was a bit tricky, considering that she’s a good few inches shorter and one size smaller.

I left the house wearing a fitted top, black trousers and black jacket. Corporate look, yes. But should you look closely, you’d realize that the trousers I had on were stretchable flare, with slit at the bottom of each leg. Corporate look, my ass! Non even chuckled, “I normally wear these when I go clubbing”

I laid low the whole day - because of the clothes - but also coz I was an unpleasant company. Came close to losing my temper many times, and was on Messenger complaining to a dear friend, Riz:

Riz: hmmm...guess what?
Riz: u r just listless...and bored.... and lonely
Riz: told you, you need a hug
I: gee thanks for pointing all that is wrong in my life
Riz: a hah! That’s what wrong Arysa!
Riz: being bored and listless and lonely are not "wrong", that’s all normal
Riz: nothing wrong with your life u know? You are a successful, attractive, beautiful person
Riz: with a kind heart, in a steady job...
Riz: you have your health, a roof over your head
Riz: tangan, kaki, jari semua cukup kan?
I: yes cukup
I: success is relative
I: attractive is relative
I: beautiful is relative
Riz: that’s the problem, everything is "relative". But relative to what?
I: i dont know
I: dah la Riz, ignore me
Riz: mana boleh ignore.... macam cancer tau
I: dah la… I am just a sulky ungrateful bitch
Riz: BETOLLLLLL

When counting my blessings, I have to count my friends twice.

For Riz, who told me to sign up for AAM (in case the car breaks down again)

For KZ, who reminded me that, no matter how jahat I am, and whatever sin I commit, I must take care of my prayers

For Malena, who rolls her eyes and gives me her famous I-told-you-so looks

For Ryan, who tells me to listen to my mother (he hasn’t a clue how difficult this would be)

For Yin, who told me not to drown in self-pity, as I need to realize that there’s still a world out there, despite my sadness

For Non, with whom I could borrow flare stretchable trousers

For Za, who never seem to run out of inane topics to talk about

For Vardamir, who shares his honest thoughts always (whether or not I agree with him is a different story altogether)

For Zsazsa, Ayeen & Niena… For the twins… For Adriana…

I have a whole lot of people around me, and they never fail to be there when I call for them. They don’t always tell me what I want to hear, but they’d always give me what I need.

And for that, I am thankful.

6 sides to a coin is a dice

2004-10-28T18:17:00.000+08:00

I’m seeing a lot of things, hearing a lot of versions, facing the odds here and there, and reflecting myself upon them all.

We all go through shit, some more so than the rest, but we all face it to a certain degree. But who am I, as an individual, to say that my life is shittier than another’s?

Thing is, our resilience level vary in different aspects of our life. Some could take a hell of pressure at work; others can’t live without friends; some could cry with the slightest pinch; others couldn’t care less with no or little money; some have struggling relationship with their mothers (heh heh); and others could never win the chick.

Yes, we know we should remain positive. Yes, we know we shouldn’t lose faith. Yes, we know that this too, shall pass.

But we can’t help feeling lost once in a while, can we? Time where we feel so low. Time when you feel unloved; unattractive; uncared for. Time when we’ve given our all, yet the stupid government still won’t deliver the fund promised to us. Time when we are ashamed of ourselves for we were weaken at slightest temptation. Time when we made a bad judgment call, and it was too late to turn it around.

And when you think you’ve almost reached your limits, the stupid restaurant forgot to take out the Chinese Chives from your Char Kuey Teow!

But the thing is, we have to keep counting our blessings. For every single thing we have pushing us down, we have tenfold of others to pull us up.

Despite so, every now and again, it’s good to be reminded of what we have in our lives and of those who matter. It’s good to have someone to share some promising words - more often than not, words that you already know. Something such common of sense, yet in your sorrow of facing your ordeal, you tend to be consumed by it and overlook what’s in front of you.

Of course this will not take the trouble away, but at least it keeps you sane and life becomes bearable again. And you can hopefully think more clearly of the choices heading your way - to know which wave to surf and which battle to fight.

As Vardamir rightly quoted from Al-Baqarah,
On no soul doth Allah Place a burden greater than it can bear…

Someone told me recently that when we love something so much, it becomes our tests.

With this, we have at least two choices. Either to never love something (or someone) so much so as not to get hurt, or to stumble every now and then, but know what living is all about.

For Life is a one-way street.

2004-10-27T10:57:00.000+08:00

tabula rasa n.

Pronunciation: /TAB-yu-la RA-sa/

1. the human mind in its hypothetical primary blank or empty state
2. the human mind (esp. at birth) viewed as having no innate ideas

Examples:

1. Arysa Aida is in a state of tabula rasa
2. Arysa Aida is a true tabula rasa

Running forward to find yourself 10 steps behind

2004-10-26T18:51:00.000+08:00

Have you ever looked into the mirror and not recognize the person staring back at you?

Dorian Gray was a lucky bastard to have had a portrait that grew ugly on his behalf.

I am tired of hearing my mother saying I should make more effort and put some make up on - I’m afraid to confess that I don’t even own any.

I am tired of being accommodating, when in the end, more often than not I end up unhappy.

I am tired of going out of my way for the feelings of others, when they don’t give a flying fuck how I feel.

I am tired of not trying hard enough.

I am tired for not having a clear mind, for being so slow in my conscience.

I am tired of wanting to sweep everything under the carpet. And pray that the next time I lift it up, all the mess are gone.

I am tired of feeling I shouldn’t even feel this way!

I wish I could just zap myself gone. I wish I were a witch. (Of course the other times I wish so is when my room is so messy but I’m lazy to clean up!)

For I am guilty.

As I am an insensitive bitch who is ignorant of others.

As I don’t try my best, and I don’t take charge.

For relating my victim story, when I am just another sulky spoilt brat, carping on the littlest things. When I should be counting my blessing instead.

And I hope I still have my conscience intact. For my biggest fear, is to be in the lost, and not even know it.

In case you haven’t guessed, I don’t like myself very much right now. And I’m afraid that I might hurt all those who mattered to me, as I take my time to look into the mirror again.

Drifting a Relationship Drift

2004-10-24T16:46:00.000+08:00

Dear Vardamir,

You accused me of not thinking. And so I sat down with my pen and paper, and subject myself to write up a profile of Mr. Right - a profile you claim each and every one of us to have.

He has to be taller than me (but you know this already)

Good foundation of the religion, that he can imam my solat and lead me the right path, for I am a weak person.

Good at what he does; for I believe that a man needs to feel fulfilled in his work/career. (Of course to a certain extent, a woman needs this too, but we women more often than not would put career second after family) I believe that a man’s pride is a delicate substance, and the confidence he has of himself (and the baggage he learn to shrug off) shapes his perspective of life.

Earn respectable income, and this normally come hand in hand with being good at work/career. Not because of the silly attitude of “your money is my money; and my money is my money”, but more because he is the provider of the household. Men are natural hunters, and they fend for their family. I do not want my man to feel inadequate in any way in this sense.

Does not compete for my attention with my family. I’m not the most family-oriented person on earth, nor do I have such enviable family. But they are my blood and will always be. I know where my priorities will be after marriage, but there shouldn’t be any major conflict of the two.

Accepts me for the person I am, and the ugly being I hide from the public’s eyes. Doesn’t try to change me in any way, for I won't try to change him. But instead, we should both look forward to grow together.

There are a few other things I wrote, but I stopped when I realized that I found just the person I was describing.

Akmal. He fit every single thing I had on my paper, and a whole lot more. In his own way, he was a thoroughbred from a respectable family background. Bright in his studies; solid in his work. Grounded as a person. Athletic in nature. He passed my acid test for the ideal height I look in men – he was still a good few inches taller when I had my 3-inch Prada on :) He is tanned, and very sweet looking. Hell, we looked good together.

I let him go after 4 months.

This is when I realized that being in love is not about ticking a checklist. You and I, we have seen many instances of relationships not working out when people based their decisions on this checklist. Though Akmal loved me right, he was Mr. Wrong. It hurt to hurt him, but I’d be living a lie to stay with him.

I know it doesn’t make sense to you why I was in love with Ninja, but he’s one of the few who drew the hidden side in me. He fulfilled me intrinsically. Yes, we looked wrong together. God, we’re not even of the same religion. And yes he even wronged me! But for those moments that we were together, were the moments I knew what it feels like to be in love. What does it matter how we looked to other people?

And Vardamir, we know there are “perfect” couples who’s been divorced, simply because things are not as it always seem. No matter how right they look to us, who are we to judge what works for them?

For the heart is a fragile thing. And Vardamir, matters of the heart seldom make sense. I am not justifying my actions, but a man of your intelligence need to be a bit more open-minded, and a bit less judgmental.

You Vardamir, are looking for your Hilary Clinton, while I’m just your ordinary girl next door.

You’re right on one count. You need to think less, and I need to be less impulsive. I can tell you that I am reflecting on my life a whole lot more than before. I know things don’t make sense, but hey, c’est la vie.

I am taking my time. I have no train to catch, no deadline to meet.

Pampers' Talk

2004-10-23T20:28:00.000+08:00

Earlier today my 3-year-old nephew asked,

“Auntie, why do people die?”

Good Lord. How do you answer that? How do you explain death to a little boy so young, that he is yet to even speak properly. Goodness sake, he still calls my mother Pu Mak, instead of Tok Mak!

Last time I read, kids were still asking questions like “where do babies come from?” What is he, another Old Soul in a new Life?

I was stunned. I couldn’t answer his question, so I bought him Sugus instead.

I change my mind about having kids.

On a lighter note, I’d like to express my gratitude to the thief who pick pocketed my father’s mobile phone in front of Masjid al Haram in Mecca. I have no doubt that you will rot in hell for committing a sin in no other than the Holy City itself, but in buying a replacement phone for himself, Papa got me a new phone too. And this could not have happened had it not been for you. So thank you. And please pray hard for forgiveness.

Excuse me while I go play with my new Sony Ericsson toy, and leave my dearest twin sisters to sulk in envy.

2004-10-22T17:49:00.000+08:00

Dream A Little Dream of Me
by Mama Cass

Stars shining bright above you
Night breezes seem to whisper I love you
Birds singing in the sycamore tree
Dream a little dream of me

Say nighty nite and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me
While I'm alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me

Stars fading but I linger on, dear
Still craving your kiss
I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear
Just saying this

Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you
Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me

(my all time favourite)

2004-10-21T16:39:00.000+08:00

In relationship, sometimes you touch a point when you suffer an overdose of your partner. Then you won’t call every so often and you don’t make plans to see each other for a while.

But what is there to do when you are tired of yourself?

Why the question?

Coz at the moment, I am so disoriented I am sick of myself. Never thought it’s possible, but I have somehow managed to suffocate myself!

And I still think Roger’s bunny has a beak up its face. And yes Malena, I did go to the zoo when young!

On a bad day, I thought Roger's bunny was a duck!

2004-10-20T13:32:00.000+08:00

When we arrived at the Kota Kinabalu airport for a trip there last, M’s bag and mine took ages to appear. Vardamir & TJ both had gotten their bags already. It was rather strange, considering that M checked in with TJ, and I with Vardamir.

As the crowd was thinning, I turned to Vardamir and chirpily said, “It’s ok. The bags must be somewhere at the back. For as long as the conveyor belt is still moving, we have nothing to worry about. If the belt stops, then we panic!”

The moment I finished the sentence, the belt stopped.

And our bags only turned up 12 hours later.

Tuesday, 19 October 04

7.40am

I called Yin to be told that he broke his glasses. I so understand the blurry misery, and I offered to pick him up and drop him at his office on my way to work.

On our way there, in between chats, he asked, “What time is it?”

“20 to 9. Why?”

“Wow, this has got to be the earliest I’ve ever arrived the office! I normally don’t come in till past 10!”

At the end of his sentence, the car broke down.

Oh. My. God.

Note to self: We should all stop saying things that could invite trouble right next moment.

Before you jump into stupid conclusions, the petrol tank was half full.

8.43am

Called AAM

“Hi, I need your help. The membership number is xxxxxx. And am stuck along Jalan XYZ”

“Certainly. Before that though, the membership is under Mr. AGA…”

“Yes, that’s my father”

“Is he there with you?”

“No. He isn’t. He’s away for Umrah”

“Oh, I’m sorry. The membership is not transferable. He needs to be there with you.”

“But he isn’t! And I’m driving his car instead. Can’t you help at all? I’m holding up traffic here!!”

“The AAM member need to be present, Ma’am. Are you not a member?”

I wasn’t very amused at this point. I don’t own a car, for the obvious reason that I cannot afford one. When I need to, I’d take one of the cars at home. So how can I be an Automobile Association member when I don’t own, er, an automobile?! And I pointed this out to her.

“The most I can do, Ma’am, is to send an authorized tow truck to the location. But you would have to pay”

Great. I’ve been broke since 10 days ago. Just great.

Waiting for the tow truck was another agony. Yin was standing outside by the car and later realized how many of his friends were using the same road. He received calls of “Eh, was that you I just passed? Were you the guy posing like a car model just now ah?”

By the third phone call, he turned to me and said, “Eh, next time, can you like pick a less popular road to breakdown ah?”

Sheesh

I ended taking emergency leave and towed the car back to our workshop near home. I figured I might as well send the car to someone who’s familiar with it. But more importantly, I sent it to Lim’s Workshop so that Papa will settle the bill. Hee!

1.18pm

Enough excitement. I changed into my nightie and crawled my way back to bed.

5.45pm

Decided to meet Non, Shir & Yin for berbuka. Chose to drive Sicko's car.

6.25pm

Waited for Yin at the LRT station.

6.28pm

A careless ~~idiot of a~~ driver grazed the right rear of my car in the attempt to leave her parking space. Went down, saw the scratch, exchanged phone numbers. Too tired to argue, so I told her the Sicko would deal with this when he returns with my parents.

Yin suggested for me to mandi bunga to wash away this bad karma I seem to have. Malena vowed that Yin was the bad karma himself.

By the sound of it, I prefer to believe the latter.

Let me tell you a story

2004-10-18T15:46:00.000+08:00

Bear with me, for this is a long one.

I used to go out with someone who lied and cheated on me. We went out for almost one year, and it finally ended after I found out the extent of his lies on that one occasion.

You must think I was an idiot for forgiving him in the first place. But I had my reason for I was in love. When love feels as good, is it not worth your all? When no one else matters in your eyes, is it not worth a second chance?

For the two months he claimed to be in Australia for a course, he was actually in Germany, holidaying with an ugly Maria. And I only managed to confirm this when I got my hands on his passport (psychotic, I know! I know!) a month upon his return.

You see, I didn’t want to jump ahead of myself. I wanted to throw solid, indisputable evidence to his face when I confronted him. Because he is exactly like me - for as long as we can wiggle our way out of our lies, we would. Even it that involves even more lies.

He admitted to being in Germany with Maria. But they were just friends, he said. Been friends for over 4 years. He just didn’t know how I would take it (had he been honest about going over to visit a girl friend), since we had only just met.

I kept telling myself that if it were meant for me to find out, the truth would come if I wait patiently.

How did I live without knowing? How did we continue to see each other, going on pretending like nothing happened?

Oh, it wasn’t easy. For months, I was crying inside. Though all appeared bright and we did have a lot of fun going out still, my heart was throbbing and my mind wasn’t at peace.

I kept sane with the support of my friends. The girls, I tell you, were the best of friends anyone could ever ask for. Malena was always there every moment I needed her, day-in day-out, rain or shine. Eleanora kept on listening to my cries, (though in her heart I know, she was wondering why I was crazy to put this onto myself). Za - the analytical Za - actually brainstormed with me, giving me different possible scenarios that could have taken place. Non, my girlfriend for over a decade - even agreed to accompany me to a chick flick that she’s seen before simply because she knew I needed a laugh. She met me at the cinema armed with comfort foods.

Came one point, I had no more trust for the guy. On one hand I knew he meant it when he said he loved me. On the other, I couldn’t live being suspicious all the time; couldn’t live with doubting his words and checking his mobile for unusual messages/phone calls at every opportunity.

8 months down the line, he went for a game of tennis while I waited at his place. Bored watching DVDs, I flipped my fingers through his stuff. And on that particular day, and that day for the first time ever, I opened his Filofax.

Now, now, you women out there would know exactly what I’m talking about. We do this when we feel something amiss with our partners. For those smug women who think they will never stoop as low as this, think again - I was once in your shoes. For the men, oh, piss off! Your psychotic girlfriends/wives turn such due to your own naughtiness!

What I found in the Filofax sent a chill down my spine. In there, carefully tucked away in individual plastic strips, were letters from Maria. Letters detailing how much she missed him, longed for his touches, craved for his kisses. The letters were dated after his visit in July, up until Christmas.

In one of her letters, she attached some of her photos for his view - naked photos to be exact. One in the bubble bath; another on the sofa, touching her breasts; one of her back… you get the picture.

Needless to say that all my plans to confront him in a calm, composed and very mature manner went out the window the moment he stepped into the door. I threw the Filofax to his face, ripped the pages out, and read her letters one by one. Out loud to his face. I walked out the door as I left him speechless, with no more possible lies to cast my way.

A barrage of “what ifs” stormed my mind after that. What if I had known this earlier, would I have given him the second chance? What if I had found out something else, surely that would spare me the ugly sight of Maria naked (trust me, I am saying this with all objectivity). What if I never found out, isn’t ignorance bliss?

In the process of mending my broken heart, I realized that whatever happened was meant to be. It was never meant for us to have worked out, so he did what he did. But, had I stopped short of giving it a try, and never did find out to the extent of his lies, I know I would always wonder if I gave up too easily too soon.

Had I confronted him earlier, he could’ve hidden all signs, and there's a chance I would never have found out. I came to terms that it was meant for me to find out, just when I did. Not any sooner. Not any later. For God works in mysterious ways, He knew that at that point I was strong enough to take the blow and bears the courage to walk away without regrets. Yes I was stumped, and cried buckets, but hey, I survived.

I’m all over him now. And I've learnt many lessons. And the one thing he taught me was to risk falling in love again.

For as long as your baju melayu fits

2004-10-15T13:05:00.000+08:00

I hate it when people talk about my private life. My private life is mine to keep. My private life is, well, private of course!

But I’ve learnt that the more I try to latch it close, the bigger the sharks I attract. These sharks, they yearn for gossips. I tell you, the company does not give us them enough work challenge around here.

Being the late-bloomer that I am, more often than not, I discover things the hard way.

A mentor once told me, “What people don’t know, they make up”.

Lesson #1. I have to have an imaginary boyfriend profile. So that when nosy colleagues who refused to believe that a hot chicka like me could be single ask “ada boyfriend?” (this is where I’d feel like biting his/her head off for that personal + tactless question) I could rattle on about how gorgeous he is, how in love I am, and how we’re planning for the perfect wedding of the century. I have learnt that when people have a set answer in their head, your answers no matter no more, for they’d only listen to the pieces they choose to anyway.

Lesson #2. There is no such thing as platonic relationships between men and women. Tattoo that somewhere on your body, Arysa, so you’d never forget. Even when your intent is clear (and I’ve always operated on my niat), you could be seen as leading the other person on. It matters not that sometimes the idiot is one perasan bloke, but since you’re the girl, it damages you still. Even when the guy fancies you not, you could still stir suspicion from the lazy sharks. Apparently, since I live in this society I have to act like the norm, even if it’s bullshit.

Lesson #3. The cobra bites when it feels threaten. And I take it as a defense mechanism for you to publicize your victim story to those ears lent your way. For as long as you get your version out first (and fast), the crowd would be more sympathizing. After all, you ARE the victim here, aren’t you poor soul? But hey, here’s a question, did it make you feel any better? When you say I think not of the consequences, did you?

Can’t you all just LEAVE ME ALONE???!!!

*GROWL*

It’s the first day of puasa and it’s only past one. Huh, looks like my foul-mood button has been triggered much earlier than its usual post-Asar schedule.

Oh Arysa, don’t have a cow!

Haha.

Damn, the office’s so cold, my tits are hard. Had to walk to the printer with my arm across my chest! Is this a challenge too?

*YAWWWNNNNNNNN*

I am one little bitch who needs either a good spanking or a bloody good husband

2004-10-13T15:56:00.000+08:00

There is something seriously wrong with me.

I have been eating not unlike the pig. I crave for Coke everyday now, when I barely touch them otherwise. I don’t drink coffee normally (I’d get tummy aches), but I’ve drunk more than 3 mugs in the past week alone. I’ve been having nasi lemak for breakfast everyday, hefty servings of lunch, AND dinners too. In between meals, I have no short supply of chocolates, fruits and more chocolates popping into my mouth. It doesn’t help that Eleanora is almost always hungry too, so when I fall short of munchies in my drawer, I wander over to her cubicle to find this mom-to-be ever so resourceful! Am I suffering from sympathy hunger? (is there such a thing?)

Today, I accepted one of JC’s mini maggi at noon and went down to lunch right after. And I not only finished the whole plate of rice, I downed it with a can of Coke. Right now, not two hours later, am finishing the pack of Maltesers Malena left on my table.

Urgh. The face is so round right now my cheeks fall out of my face.

Am restless. Been so since Monday. I cannot focus on work. If I were to prepare one more package, I’d puke all over my messy desk and make an even bigger mess.

Emotion wise, it’s been a hell of a roller coaster. One minute I can be laughing and the next I’d be crying dry tears. I had all the space I wanted yet still find everything suffocating. I’ve been extra sensitive to many things and sulking is the only refuge (I try to spare others of my sharp tongue).

Me thinks it’s the hormones. Yes, that’s about the only logical explanation to all this and Yin, in this case, it’s actually true!

Worst thing is, I can't even remember when the monthly blood flow is due!! Stupid hormones are affecting my memory too!!

aaaaaAAAAAARRRGGggghhhhhhhh!!!

and we have a winner!

2004-10-13T13:27:00.000+08:00

Arysa,

Sorry, i have never ever thought about it, they say I am a male chauvinistic pig - it is not true of course :P (but as you already know I like the pig part)

Is this some sort of a psychological diagnosis or are you confused/worried about yourself?

Q: what would I do if I am a woman for one day ?

A: hmm.. banyak mende boleh buat .... I do wonder... I believe women have a special ability (instinct or intuition) that they use/trust more than their mind/brain, I think I would like to explore 'them' to try to understand you ladies much better.

wonder why you ask,
Harson son of Shah

Note: Harson is the Man of the Ladies. One of those our mothers warned us about. Though you frown and shake your head disapprovingly of him, you cannot help but to be drawn to the quiet charm about him.

In Harson's case, he would maximise the day as a woman so as to win even more women when he's back to being a man.

~~Bastards~~ Men like this roam the city freely.

What would you do if you were a (wo)man for a day?

2004-10-12T16:06:00.000+08:00

I'd checkout my tits
(Riz)
I soo believe him!

what kind of a question is that? I would probably wish to become a woman soon again. I don't really wanna be a man.I guess, I would do sports all the time - Basketball, Tennis, Soccer (Is she for real?!) ... and then be in the same dressing room and shower with the other guys!! (that's more like it! that's my girl!)

(Connie)

If I was a woman for a day? Uh, I wouldn't have a clue.
(JC)

See what sex feels like for a man
(Malena)

I would just take a tape measure and see how big my boobs are!

(Abg Zek)

As I always tell ya, I doubt you not!

*by the way, who calls you this?! Yuck!*

I would be in a real sulky mood, and blame it on PMS. Man, I've always wanted to blame everything that goes wrong on my hormones! And ooh, ooh, I wanna have multiple orgasm!!
(Yin)
typical!

Err... errr.... you know how they always salah parking right? I want to experience why it is so…
(Eleanora)

I'd fondle myself like nobody's business
(Ryan)

I would try to make a bad line sounds good on pretty lass
(Nina)

Wow, that is one of the weirdest questions I have ever been asked. Well, I would go out and see what the guys are like from the eyes of a
woman. Jerks or not?!

(KZ)

Sweetie, no need to become a woman for this. Just ask me, and the answer is YES!

If I were a guy for a day? Huh, I don't know… I become stupid, I guess. But what am I talking about - I'm already stupid!
(Pwincess)
Note: she really isn't. Stupid, that is.

Hmm, the first thing that came to mind is to shop. Then I'd go do my hair. Third, I would get manicure & pedicure. If I have more time, I would use my woman charm and use man!

(Shir)

WTF??!!! He sounds like a woman already!

Me? I would be drinking gallons of water, and pee standing. Over and over again.

:p

When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad, these are a few of my favourite things…

2004-10-07T17:34:00.000+08:00

Daffodils in Spring
Stella by Stella McCartney
Milo
Isn’t She Lovely by Stevie Wonder
The drive home nearing midnight
My deep red bolster
Zang Toi’s chocolate banana cake
Rain in the middle of the night while I’m asleep
The stretch in front of Istana Kayangan, where the road’s lit festively and the mosque complete in view straight ahead
Angel by Thierry Mugler
My baby blue fleece blanket

Chemistry don’t always add up with logic

2004-10-05T18:43:00.000+08:00

In my various attempts to fully understand whether boys and girls can have platonic relationships (I’ve had many many debates on this and most of the time I get singled out for upholding so), I once asked Yin, “Why can’t it work with Ira?”

Whenever we meet Yin, we almost expect to see Ira. In the general public perception, it’s impossible for two heterosexuals to be spending all this time together yet have nothing going on. Thing is, they did. 6 years ago. But it lasted only for about 2 months.

He said, “It cannot work because of fundamental characteristic differences. She and I, we rub each other very wrongly. She riles me up with the littlest things. She brings out the worst in me.”

I completely got this. Totally. How else can I explain my unusually snappy self with Suzy, my suffocating chum back at uni? Or how Jantan Sial enhanced my malay-swearing vocabulary bank so much so that I have a new word to maliciously throw at him everyday we fought?

So when Za related similar incidents she had with a particular friend, we discussed this further.

Chemistry. Some people rub us the right way; some people don’t. Some makes us feel attractive; some makes us feel bad. Some comes up with the most annoyingly insulting jokes; some says the most brilliant one-liner. Whether we like it or not, some just brings out the best in us, while some others, the worst.

Sometimes, the chemistry between two people is hard to understand. How two people connect would not necessarily appear right in the naked eye.

Chemistry is part comfort. It’s dancing without stepping on each other’s toes. It’s cuddling in your sleep and waking up still entangled together, despite various stirs.

When do you know you’ve got it right?

When it feels like home.

So let Mr. Scruffy be with Miss Prim and Proper. Be happy for the McKinsey consultant who’s going out with the painter. Let Mr. Mine be short and ugly for all that matters!

For as long as you can identify what happiness is in their eyes - despite not being able to neither relate nor understand – you still stand a chance.

Breaking the Habit

2004-10-03T15:51:00.000+08:00

Do you believe in signs?

I don’t.

Because I can never tell between signs and sheer snapshots collected in my memory bank.

The thing about breaking up is that you go through it in phases. Instances of shock; denial; anger; sadness; hurt – we all face them but in varying pace. Some take longer than most, but hopefully in the end we all reach the stage of closure and move on. No shortcuts through the tunnel, you just have to go through it the old fashioned way i.e. painfully.

I always get to the stage where everything I see would remind me of the person. Suddenly all the cars on the road were black 3-Series; the guy walking passed wears Hugo Boss too; and the IKEA lorry on the highway reminded that that I was there last with him.

If I was anything like Matthew Perry in Fools Rush In, this is where I’d take all those as a sign for us to get back together, turn myself around and vow another go.

Puh leez.

I hate this period. I pray and pray that it’ll only last a day.

I guess this is why some of us never move on.

Streaks of Rainbow

2004-10-02T13:49:00.002+08:00

Don’t get me wrong. My living moments weren’t always a miserable existence.

I fell ill one time and she surprised me with a Ken to accompany my Barbie.

I had appendicitis when I was 8. She was out of town for the weekend and came home to find my bed empty. She forced Papa to rush her to the hospital in the wee hours and I woke up to gentle sobs by my bedside. She lifted up and showed my new pink dress – her fingers trailing the ribbon of flowers. Needless to say that she never left my side for the whole time I was hospitalised.

When I was away at uni, I’d receive parcels from home every now and then. In them I would find everything I asked needed, everything I wanted, everything I wished for, and more. She even forced in half-dozen Milo kotak, which I’d savour at a snail's pace so as to make it last till the next parcel gets in.

Once, I took a trip with my dad for over 10 days. She greeted us at the airport with such delight that could only portray how much I was missed. Funnily enough, I remember how I missed her too.

Now do you see? Do you see why I refuse to believe the hurtful words that came my way? Such is the display of her love.

I waited for Dawn but the night stayed Long

2004-10-01T19:48:00.000+08:00

I’ve sorrowed in self-pity for too long. When I wondered why mom couldn’t accept me as the person that I am, I think I forget to accept her as she is too. I may say I do, but I do so with more than just a bit of resentment.

She is the one person I seek approval of. So I find it hard to deny her. Fulfilling her unreasonable requests does drive me crazy at times yet I don’t put a stop to it. I get upset of her demands but now I think, maybe she doesn’t even realize it’s offending me.

I don’t even know I was doing this. Not until Yin asked me last week,

“Why are you compensating for your late sister?”

You see, I had an elder sister. She was 9 years older than me but she died 10 years ago. She was the perfect daughter in my mother’s eyes (I think so, despite her denying it). Sis got along fabulously with mom and didn’t answer back when they disagree. She was pretty - looks after my mom; smart; active; confident and very well liked (but naturally!). They even shared the same taste in most things.

In contrast, I’ve always been different. I don’t take after either parents and was geeky-looking all through school. I had asthma when young, thus refrained from joining any sporting activities for fear of exerting myself too much. I’ve always been talkative, but not sure if I was as lively.

And I resented comments like “Why couldn’t you be like your sister who does this... and that?”

Now, whenever mom brings sis up when we fight, I’d get doubly frustrated. I'd feel cornered.

“She’s gone!!!!” I’d shout.

“Don’t bring her up again! I am sorry she died. I am sorry you lost your daughter and you’re left with me instead!” I’d yell.

Yes I said those things. But subconsciously, I tried to emulate her. I tried to be more like her to help ease my mother’s pain. Subconsciously, I was hoping to relief her the sorrow of having to bury her own child.

But it's not doing either of us any good, is it?

When sunlight is dim and love is hate

2004-09-30T19:21:00.000+08:00

If you know me well you’d know how big my baggage is when it comes to my mother: huge, full and very well packed - reminds me a bit of my food luggage every return trip back to the Uni.

I love her, no doubt. I just don’t like her very much.

For as much as I think I’ve come to accept her, I’ve only come to terms that I’ve been fooling myself all along.

Whether or not I admit it, her words are hurtful. I turned out this sane due to shutting out everything that was said. I refused to believe her; to acknowledge how painful the words; refused to accept them come from my very own mother.

“You have to separate logic from emotion,” I’d tell myself.

“Have your head up high, wipe out those tears, stand tall and focus. Ignore your feelings, coz it’ll just be in the way. Grow up!”

Problem is, I became amazingly good at it and couldn’t really stop. And I now realize that I ended up shutting out other things too. After years of practice, I became me.

I feel judged with my mother. And so I made a conscious effort not to judge others.

I feel unaccepted by my mother. And so I make a point to accept everyone as they are.

I feel she sets impossible standards and expectations, thus get disappointed most the time. And so I have none.

While my shutout attitude has brought me this far, it is no longer effective. I tend to take others at face value, and while this sangka baik attitude makes me non judgmental, my oblivion has also landed me a lot of shit.

Enough living in my bubble. I have suitcases to unpack.

2004-09-29T19:53:00.000+08:00

Vardamir found this blog.
!!@#!!!*&!!!

It was a trial, and I’m never the Judge

2004-09-28T15:37:00.000+08:00

…for I’m almost always the accused.

Men. They’re all the same, they are. At first they appear all understanding. You can rant, you can cry, you can utter your shock and disbelief – they’d always understand. They’d nod and always see where you’re coming from. The guy is a jerk, they’d say. He doesn’t understand you, they’d say. They’d soothe you. And for a point in time, you’d think there is still hope yet.

Then they’d confess. I don’t know about you, but it catches me off-guard every time. The ear they lent, was not for free. The interest they put it, was more than just being friendly. Platonic no more, they’d say. I know you, I accept you, so give me a chance to make you happy.

Bullshit. You know why? Coz the moment they have you (in its loose meaning), they’d try to change one thing or the other. What happens to being non-judgmental and accepting me as I am?

I get into relationships as open as can be. I am me. What you see is literally what you get. I don’t pretend to be anymore intelligent than I am (mainly coz I don’t get any brighter than this!), nor any prettier (I don’t even wear lipstick for God’s sake). I don’t pretend to be anyone else but me! Can’t you see?

Men. They’re like my mother; they never fail to surprise me. When I thought I’ve heard all the lame excuses in this world, the King of Lame was thrown to my face.

What was said, you ask? What was this lame excuse I claim? I’m sorry; I cannot even bring myself to write it.

I do not want to be with someone who wants to change me. Who calls me a stubborn hypocrite, simply because I disagree with his standpoint.

I want someone who accepts me along with all my flaws, and would lead me the way.

I want someone who worships the ground I walk on, as I’ll be worshipping his.

I want someone who calls me first with the littlest happenings, and would indulge me the same.

I want someone honest, who doesn’t cheat nor lie; one who trusts me to handle the truth.

Someone who admits feeling vulnerable, scared and alone, and knows that I neither judge nor think of him as a weaker person.

I want to be with someone who wants to be with me, through and through, despite our differences. Despite liking different ice cream flavours; despite the fact that I think Siti Nurhaliza is one pretentious git.

I want someone who understands that no matter how angry we are with each other sometimes, we mean not the harsh words and we’ll always brave to stormy days together.

For me, this is what love is - choosing to stay by the person’s side, particularly when it’s easier to just walk away.

I have made up my mind on you. And the more I think about it, the more it feels right. If you choose a different path, I will not stop you. How dare you claim to know me yet be so cruel when you’re angry? Don’t flatter yourself; you stand nowhere near my faith.

To the girls, should you find me zombie-like these few days, just treat me kind and leave me be. No questions. OK?

2004-09-24T11:02:00.000+08:00

A lot has happened since I was here last.

I rented my studio to a pair of fussy and potentially irritating Japanese couple. They demanded a few things to which I agreed to before we signed the agreement, and a couple more others after that too. This finally raised my temper a bang and I think my agent will think twice before she introduces someone else to me next time around. Haha. Boy, I miss the extremely rich Middle Eastern boys who rented the place last. No fuss whatsoever.

My mom converted part of the family area into an additional bedroom, which became mine. Though it’s bigger than the room I gave up for The Sicko (a.k.a. elder brother), this room lacks privacy (I share a wall with my parents) and it’s not en suite. Great. But I vow to make the best of it. Like I always do.

On a separate matter, it was mom’s birthday recently. Due to my very own experience to her fluid behaviour, I made a point to clear up my calendar for the whole day to accommodate her (wah, I almost sound happening). So I was free should she decide we should take her out for lunch or dinner or even both. I also made sure that I got a really nice card (read: beautiful, thoughtful and I at least mean what was written) and a present, which I gave to her together with her breakfast in bed.

The Sicko, however, did not. He conveniently left for a wedding outside town. He neither got her a card let alone a present. If she was upset, she didn’t show it. The most he got from her was “You owe me a birthday dinner next week”. Man, this is injustice at its best. A couple of years back I was late for her birthday dinner, we ended up into a huge fight (one of those “oh, I am so unimportant for you that you take my special day so easily” blackmail) to which she left midway and never to return home that night. And we didn’t speak for at least another fortnight.

Note: Seriously, when it comes my mother, I am NOT exaggerating.

Work’s been mundane. Nothing new, and that’s the problem. I get sick time and time again when I have to prepare the proposal packages. I’ve prepared over 20 and I have at least 20 more due.

Urgh.

“…and Guest”

2004-09-06T10:26:00.002+08:00

Just when I thought I’ve seen and heard it all, I accompanied my ex boyfriend to his ex’s wedding.

The thing about being single is that you don’t know quite what to do when you get those invitations for two. For those unfamiliar with the notion, this is when us singletons rake our brains out as to find fellow member to go with us as our “guest”. A friend of mine exhausted all the numbers in his phone book even; praying someone he at least likes would be available to be his date!

So I completely understood when Vardamir gawkily asked if I was free to accompany him to the wedding last night.

I said yes. Not because I was curious to see her in person (ok lah, not ONLY so), but more because I knew he was scared shit, and going alone would be a pathetic option. He needed support and even this bitchy bitch has a heart.

It was a beautiful reception - small and full of personal touches. Held in the open air, lit candles tuned its warmth. I loved the scattered orchids that trailed the path. The newlyweds arrived in a sampan rowed by the groom himself. I thought it was sweet but I heard Vardamir coughed “Corny!” under his breath.

When the couple approached our table, the bride went “Ooh, this is long overdue! Arysa, right? Wow, it’s good to meet finally meet you! I hope you guys found this place fine. It wasn’t too hard, was it?”

Right. Just when I thought I was just going to offer my well wishes and sit without even introducing myself. As I sat, I turned to Vardamir, “She still thinks we’re together, doesn’t she?”

The sheepish look on his face provided me the answer.

It was closure he seeks. By the end of the night, he left with his heart content.

He said, “I think 20 years from now, when I look back to this night, it will not be their wedding that I remember. It would be you, sitting there with me. Being there for me when I needed you. Even when you’re not obliged to.”

And that was the closure I didn’t realize I needed.

If it was a snake, it would've bitten me already!

2004-09-04T17:37:00.000+08:00

I have only created Jinns and men, that they may serve Me. No Sustenance do I require of them, nor do I require that they should feed Me. For God is He Who gives (all) Sustenance – Lord of Power – Steadfast (forever).

(Qur’an 51:56-58)

I woke up this morning being towed to a ceramah at the mosque. She does this sometimes; have me accompany her to recitals and other religious sessions. As reluctant as I was to leave my slumber, this is one of the things I never dare grumble about. When it comes to religion and God, I put my obedient daughter cap on and walk out the door. My endless arguments with her sinned me enough to never leave hell, I realize as much!

It’s been awhile since I opened the Book. I remember a time when I’d read at least one sheet everyday. Reading it was a breeze - therapeutic even. I would feel something amiss if I neglect a day.

What has become since?

Iman fluctuates they say. How true.

I questioned what my purpose in life is when it is obviously staring back at me.

I need to be closer to God. Only then everything else would fall into place.

Amen.

Profiling Values

2004-09-01T16:12:00.001+08:00

During the cold night at Laban Rata, stomach full, body too tired to sleep, I asked M.

“M, what kind of girl are you looking for? Vardamir says that everyone has a profile. If that’s true, what does yours look like?”

M gave me four or five qualities, plus a few jokingly too. But this particular one caught me.

“I’m looking for someone who has searched to find herself. One who knows her values and holds on strongly to them.”

Let me tell you that M is a classic case of a kampung boy who made it in the city. Very successful in his career, yet able to remain true to his upbringing and traditional in his views. Ironically, his turning point in life and the conservative values he holds dear is mostly due to spending over 7 years overseas. This fact is surprising to me only because I expected him to be so since he was born and raised in the east coast. (Ok, ok, am guilty of stereotyping, so shoot me!)

It was then he learnt the meaning in life he was searching for, learnt to tell black apart from white. He was exposed to various cultures and beliefs that forced him to explore the real him so as not to drown with the current.

Back to M’s profile of his girl, needless to say that he’s looking for someone who is rather traditional in her stance as well. Then he added:

“But I don’t want someone who’s traditional because she’s been sheltered and unexposed. I’m looking for one who has had her moment of truth, where she rose above it, because she hang onto her values”

Pulak dah…

But what he said struck a cord. Thing is, we won’t truly realize what our values are until they’re challenged. At times, we may think we do, only for it to shatter upon the slight temptation.

Which got me to think, what are values in the first place?

I believe they are personal judgment of what is valuable and important in life. It can be what we strive to achieve, but also boundaries we tell ourselves to never cross. They are intangible and more often than not, they are heavily influenced by our religion, culture, education background, society and exposure. As such, black to me may be white to others or even brown for that matter!

Moment of truth is when our values are put to test. And we come out of it without succumbing to the temptation. How many of us can raise our hands to this? I for one do not think I’ve had my moment of truth.

That said, how is it possible for us to set a measurement when our values differ from one another to begin with?

Boy, no wonder M is still single at 36.

2004-08-30T20:09:00.000+08:00

She asked

Where were you?
Why were you there?
What for?
Are you already out of your mind?
Can’t you take up something else?

She raged

I know you best! I know you better than you know yourself! Because I’m your mother!
Just because I say so!
Of course not! Because I say you can’t!
Your doctor said you’re fit enough? That doctor is stupid!
Ish budak ni, kalau aku tau bila besaq panjang dia nak masuk hutan, kecik-kecik dulu, aku dah bagi kat orang asli!
Gila tau dak. Gila! Orang gila saja buat kerja macam ni!
You’re a girl! Why can’t you do something that a girl does?! Girls don’t go climb mountains.
Kalau dah nak masuk hutan sangat, pi belajaq bahasa jin! Senang sikit, jumpak jin hutan, boleh bercakap! Boleh bersembang!
Bodoh! I’ve never called any of my children bodoh before, but there you go!

She blackmailed

Did you know, of all my children, I suffered most when I was pregnant with you?! You cried till you turned blue. Tau dak, at that time, your father dok gila pompuan! Hantu macam-macam jenis was sent to the house! Macam-macam hantu dia hantaq!

You go write a letter, and sign it, declare that I am not your mother. Not anymore.

I will write and sign a letter. And I’ll also appoint a lawyer. Write down that you’re not my daughter anymore. You anak angkat. I pungut you somewhere.

You are not getting anything from me. When I die, and you don’t have anything to your name, you have no one to blame but yourself!

Of all my children, you’ve hurt me most. I’m just waiting for what you’d do next.

She lectured

Awat tak boleh jadi pompuan? Duduk rumah, masak. Menjahit. Awak tu nanti nak kawin, prepare yourself accordingly la.

Baju kurung sekarang ni dah tak pakai dah. You’re always in suits, in trousers. Nanti, tau tau, dah buat sex change dah pulak! Tomorrow you balik, you’ll see all your baju kurung gone. I will burn them! All those baju kurung I made for you, I will burn them!

At first I retorted to every single word she screeched. Tears that trickled down my face, were tears of anger. She does not know me at all yet she self-righteously thinks she does.

Then I just quit. I can never win with her - defeated every time.

At the last hour, it became tears of sadness. I realized she has a profile of a perfect daughter, and I am nowhere fit. Am I such a disappointment?

I need help. Story of my life is a tragic comedy. I mean you’ve got to admit, half of this is just so funny when it’s not you.

Heh heh

The worst (or the best) part is that, turn back time, I still wouldn't have told her what I was doing. Without guilt.

Does that make me a bad person?

I don't know anymore.

I went looking for a challenge. I got one… and a bit more

2004-08-29T19:47:00.000+08:00

Kinabalu was not a piece of cake. Not to me it wasn’t. There were 8.5km in total, but climbers stop at Laban Rata (KM6) for the night, and start again at 2am the next day, in time to catch the sunrise at the peak.

We saw the change of setting throughout the journey. The trees grew shorter and stumpier the higher we got; the air much cooler and the clouds thicker. At one point the whole scenery looked like an exaggerated Japanese rock garden, covered with vibrant bonsais. Subhanallah indeed.

The climb to Laban Rata was not too bad. No cramps, nor aching muscles. Yeay me!

But the last 2.5km was a bitch. It was wayyyy too early in the morning to begin with (not that I managed to catch any sleep with one of my dorm mates gritting her teeth in her slumber), it was freezing cold and my stomach threaten to throw up the sickening banana flavoured PowerBar.

So I did the only thing I could - I started whining.

“M!!!! How come we’re not there yet??!!!!”

“Urgghhhhh!!!”

“WHAT?! We are climbing THAT?! You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Oi! Where does this stairs end??!!”

I tell you, this whole climbing up early morning to catch the sunrise is a scam. The only reason for this is so that people like me wouldn’t give up and turn back even before we started. Seriously, had I been able to see how one steep stair led to another, I may have waved goodbye to the boys.

Despite all that whining, the boys didn’t kill me and we made it to the top. Yeay me again!

But no one – absolutely no one - told me that coming down was going to be hell. And I’m still limping as I type this. With 4 more kilometers to go, I figured it was time to start whining again.

Me: M!!! We’re not there yet!!

M: Just keep going. It won’t be long now. When you hear water, that’ll be the waterfall. Then you know we’re near. OK?

(5 minutes later)

ME: Oooh! Ooh! Is that water I hear? Ooh! Ooh! We’re near, aren’t we?

M: Er, no actually. That’s just a stream, not the waterfall yet. We still have a bit more to go

ME: You liar! *scowl*

(10 minutes later)

ME: M, how come you look fine? Aren’t your legs aching at all? And your feet, tak sakit ke?!

M: Of course they are. Arysa, even if I whine, what good would it do? I chose to be here. And God has actually granted my wish. And I get to enjoy His beautiful creations.

*gulp* OK. That shut me up.

Needless to say that we all got down all right. Yeay me again & some more!

But I have yet another confession: I did not tell my mother I was doing this.

*GASP*

Now, now, before you go all melodramatic, listen (or read, whatever) to what I have to say.

(This is where Vardamir mocked, “Listen to me - I know I dug myself a hole, a deep one at that, but listen to me articulate a justification and rationalize the need of the hole in the first place.”)

She would stop me. She would not have let me go and the fact that I even intended to do this would end us up in a fight anyway.

So I told her that I’d be in Kinabalu for 4 days, to which she didn’t ask any further. She must’ve assumed that I was going away for work. I let her hang on to the assumption and breathed a sigh of relief of not having to lie outright.

Problem started when my dad (bless him) slipped out the fact that I called to tell him I was about to start climbing.

All hell broke loose (again, when it comes to my mother, I am not exaggerating). She wanted me to abandon the whole trip and come straight home. Pronto.

Lucky I was already out of coverage and only received panicky messages from concern parties after the whole thing.

Coming up next: Dragon Lady’s blazing sarcasm

The Mystery of the Disappearing Thong

2004-08-25T15:22:00.000+08:00

I have a confession.

I started the day wearing a thong, and I kinda lost it midday.

I was rushing after another near-death session at the gym. Half dressed after shower, I could not find my underwear. It took me a while to realize it, for at first I thought I was going commando from the start.

I searched the locker, turned my knapsack inside out, and traced my steps all around the changing room. Zilch.

I am praying hard that the gym does not have one of those LOST AND FOUND counter. I’d be mortified to see a purple thong being displayed there. If I was fortunate enough to live, I will run as fast as I can without claiming that that was mine.

I hope one of the cleaners found it and bin it straight away. Dear God, please!

For a moment there I thought I was a lesbian

2004-08-23T19:30:00.000+08:00

I've had it. I am done with men. Done dating them. Enough.

I should date a beautiful woman. We'd make a beautiful couple, right? Not one of those confused (s)he, but a feminine beautiful woman. Hmm...

I was thinking about this aloud when a dear friend then commented "Ooh, then now you have to figure out if you're into boobs or bums"

Euh.

Nope. Am definitely straight.

Climbing Up. Shedding Off.

2004-08-19T10:42:00.000+08:00

We’re attempting to climb the Kinabalu next week (attempt is the operative word here). Months of talking and now with it being just around the corner, am getting rather nervous. I don’t really know what to expect. Some said it was quite a breeze of climb for them. A couple of boys got cramps with every few steps they took. I don’t know how cold or wet it’d be.

Five of us at first, but now it looks like Yin cannot make it. His mom’s been hospitalized the past week, and as cancer patients can take quite an unpredictable turn, he’s chosen to stay by her side. Responsible decision on his side but that kind of puts me in an awkward situation.

You see, the only other person I know on this trip would be Vardamir. We haven’t spoken to each other since Sunday and I was hoping to cling onto Yin all the way up (and down). Especially since I have not met nor spoken to the other two boys, M and TJ.

To top that up, I’m still feeling somewhat weak after whatever virus I picked up last week. Only been to the gym twice since and seriously thought I was gonna fall to my unsightly death. Appetite is rather low – I actually had to force a pretzel down my throat last night. Malena said we should go have banana leaf this weekend and am not literally jumping up and down as I normally would. If this stays, maybe I’d manage to lose some weight, but nahh, knowing me, fat chance.

When Yin found out that things didn’t work out between Vardamir and I, his first question was “What’s gonna happen to Kinabalu? Are you still going?”

Oh sweetie, if you think I’d let a guy stop me from reaching that highest peak, you are very mistaken. Now I have more reason to leave him behind.

But oh, what to pack??

It's Monday. It sucks. But at least it's a new week ahead.

2004-08-16T14:04:00.000+08:00

The office is awfully quiet. Most of everyone is involved in some event and I'm here so as not to leave the whole unit unattended. The Boss is here of course, but her room is rather far (not that I'm complaining).

Last week was... hell. I must've picked up something from the haze and fell ill last Thursday. Ended up being in bed for the next 3 days. The girls claimed that I overexerted my enthusiasm in working out. Not true, of course. Though now that I am well, the girls must be thrilled for my invites to the after-office brisk walks!! Yes Malena, as brisk as it gets!

By some strange twist of fate, Vardamir and I broke up yesterday. We didn't argue or anything of the sort, but just broke up. I've sensed that he's having trouble handling work and me - no let me rephrase that - he has had trouble handling me. I am way too loud and vulgar to any girl he's used to. He has a profile he puts on the pedestal, and it is a profile of a sugar-coated bitch. Thing is, with me, he gets... a bitch. No sugar coating, thank you very much. I have no need to pretend one that I am not. Even a degree from Cambridge didn't prepare him for this.

I was sad. Now I don't know how I feel. What angered me most was that he's given up without much of a try. On one hand he's been pestering me about sourcing my Personal Legend, yet on the other he just let go.

The cheek for him to say "I think we're both looking for different people" and "I'm sorry if I didn't be the better man that I should be..." Bollocks! This is the new version of oh-it-is-not-you-it's-me excuse. That was so lame. I expected better of him.

When it comes to relationships, I normally try my best before walking away. That way I figured, I'd have no regrets. And so far I don't. I would've gone out with all my exes all over again turn back the time. But I guess not everyone is the same. What's the point of me trying alone?

I am too tired for another round of bitterness. This is the second break up this year alone, and hey hey, it's only August! Malena's right - this time around, I'm pathing my energy into something for me.

I came across a book last week, which I might just purchase. It's targetted for teenage girls actually, but what the heck, every once in a while, we've all got to be reminded of the basics. It's A Book About Falling in Love with the One Person Who Matters Most... You.

While waiting for that to arrive, I'd settle for a pair of pink sandals *wink*

My Current Wish List - Part II

2004-08-11T08:54:00.000+08:00

Since the last entry on the same subject, there are now some changes to my greed:

Evening clutch bag from Lulu Guinness
Top up SKII supply
Keronsang set
~~Wallet from LV~~ maybe not as yet
~~Anya Hindmarch’s Be-A-Bag~~ No urgency. It’s not as if I have a fab picture to be carried around anyway!
Stella Eau de Parfum Vardamir bought me this last Sunday! Yay! (Now I smell so good, I could actually jump on myself!)
Pink sandals at Pedder Red now going for 30% off, believe it or not!!!
Uluwatu kebaya top only gonna get it when I'm leaner and hotter (soon I hope!!)
~~Nokia 6230~~ am over the hype
Valentino black pantsuit

One additonal:

Deep Red Nike Training Bag

Am going shopping on the 30th! *grin*

Anyone coming with me?

Depressing Memoir

2004-08-09T15:05:00.000+08:00

Reading a girl’s resume just made me realized how unaccomplished I am. In the past almost-26 years, what have I done proud? While this girl, who is a good 3 years younger, can boast various “Best Student Awards”, entered only one of the most prestigious universities in the USA, co-founder of at least two programs and society, and an English Language tutor. And oh, she published a book (get this) as part of her summer internship activity.

Seriously, what do I have to boast of myself? If I googled me up, bet I won’t find anything remotely near me at all. Those crap about Berjasa kepada Agama, Bangsa & Negara - yes, yes, we echoed the words back in school, but what have I seriously contributed to my religion, my people, and my country?

I have been nothing but an indolent bitch. Things come rather easy for me and instead of appreciating it, I became laid-back, complacent and lazy. Yes, lazy. At my normal capacity I breeze above average. Back in school, I remained in the top 10 with bare studying effort (I never have the need to be the first in everything, so was happy). I put in more drive on important exam years. I was rather shaken when I didn’t get straight A’s at one point and studied very hard for my SPM. That was one and only time I can say that I studied hard to a point of numbness!

I was lucky to make the A-Level grades and was one of the few sent to the UK during the economic crisis. You think that’d stir me up? You’re wrong. I had good fun over there. While I have no regrets what the whole experience had taught me of life, I am sure I could’ve done so much more. In reflection, I cannot help but wonder, what am I doing any different now?

Vardamir has been persisting on finding my Personal Legend. I brush him off every time. I am like that – I push troubling thoughts to the back of mind. I choose not to think about them. I don’t like difficult questions I don’t have answers to, and would always choose to stay in my bubble contentedly.

Until when? As happy and comfortable I am today, is this it to life? Written articles read how one should not life be a rat race. Strive and achieve more; know those important in your life and set your priorities right; live – not just survive.

What am I to be? I studied, yes. I have a job now, yes. I will marry (if I don’t scare all the men away), yes. Have kids, pay for their education, grudge along the way, bitch about how fat I become and marry my children off. Then I die. Well, not necessarily in this sequence.

Where is my legend? In the movie Troy, Achilles’ mother was right. If he had not gone to Troy, he’ll soon be married and have a family. His children will love him, and his grandchildren will love him. Their children will know of him and after a while, when all these people also vanish from this earth, so does Achilles and the stories of this great man.

While I do not have the thirst of becoming legendary, I need to place my footprints in the ground.

Why is this a depressing memoir, I hear you ask. Because this is just what it is. This is the story of my life to date. If I die tonight, I have not left any print. You will not be able to know that I was even born. There will be no evidence that I have lived.

As of today, I have not lived.

Know Thy Body

2004-08-06T14:42:00.000+08:00

Am so full right now the brain is frozen.

We tried walking around the mall after having lunch only to come to realisation that the place is rather boring. There's nothing much to see here anymore. We have been to every shop, I think. Those we have not entered are the ones we can't even afford the shopping carrier!

So what did we learn today?

If you have so hairy pair of legs that they look like the Christmas Tree (as to quote Malena), DO NOT wear knee length/calf length skirt. I repeat, DO NOT. Even if you have no shame, spare the rest of us the suffering. The sight damages the eyes. Lucky it didn't put us off our sushi.
If you have fats bulging throughout your body, DO NOT wear tight fitting tops. Those love handles are meant to be hidden, not shown off. You got it the other way round, sweetie - you want to show off the nice full fats on your chest, not your back. Then again, I forgave her. Maybe she didn't realise what a sight she made herself. As such, I made Malena swear to tell me off if I ever be as silly and naive and not know how hideous I look.

On another note, now that I am off the diet, I've been eating carbo with a vengeance. I think this week alone I have maxed out the recommended carbo intake for 10 baby elephants.

Oh what the hell! I reasoned that I need all the energy in my work out. I know for sure those Mushroom Chicken Mee I had for lunch yesterday was fully used in another near-death experience at the gym later in the afternoon. (I found out when I burped them off. Euhh!). That means I have to go for my run today to burn the sticky rice glued inside my tummy right now.

*yawn*

Hot Chick with Paws

2004-08-04T15:07:00.000+08:00

Last Friday boyfriend dearest’ firm was having a get together/house warming at Nat's new home, in which the invitation was extended to spouses/partners. *hair pull* I've turned down many invites to karaoke sessions, bowling tournaments, reunions so I felt obligated. I dragged this moment. I know we're a couple, but we don't have to do everything together, right? Right? But I told myself, there will be a time when I have no more excuses so I’d better get to know them from now. I mean, if he’s aiming to make partner of the firm, there’s no running from meeting them.

It was not too bad. The food was excellent and everybody (plus spouses, partners and children) made it.

We adjourned to the living room to play Taboo (thank God there wasn’t a karaoke set!) after dessert. For those unfamiliar with the game, you’re supposed to get your teammates to guess the word on your card. Not unlike Pictionary but without drawings nor gestures. You’re supposed to describe it in words, BUT you cannot say any of the Taboo words. You need to go through as many cards as you can in one minute. Needless to say, the team with the highest accumulated point wins.

This is one of the cards I received:

WHISKERS

Taboo words: Cat. Hair. Fur.

Instantaneously I said, "Vardamir, I go threading every two weeks to shed off my…?”

His answer was spot on while the rest of the team was still looking confused.

After scoring the highest single attempt for the team, Vardamir turned to me and said, “Whiskers, eh? You knew I’d get it straight away”

I did. Especially as I go threading every two weeks to shed of my facial hair especially my, er, whiskers. And Vardamir normally drives me to the place.

Shaw (a Senior Associate) piped in “Oh God, I would never go there!”

At that moment I realized that not every woman is as open about those girly secrets. While I have accepted the fact that I have some facial hair needing ‘treatment’ every now and then, some prefer to give the impression that they’re born flawless. I figure there is no reason for shame so I tend to share such info with Vardamir. Moreover, I believe that men need to be informed how much effort we put in to look pretty for them (anyone buying this?).

So yes, Eleanora, there’s nothing wrong with finding a single strand of hair on your chin (it’s when you start growing them should we worry!). So said, I, as a friend vow to always be here every time you need help tweezing.

*wink*

My Name on His Lips

2004-08-02T22:23:00.000+08:00

My name as he utters it
Is like sunrise greeting the morning

My name as he says it
As refreshing as daffodils shooting up
In Spring

My name as he voices it
Marvels me with his surprises

My name as he speaks it
Brings meaning to my day
Every moment of chance

My name as he whispers it
Render wishes he was mine

My name, the name he chooses
Familiar and novel
Bears a new meaning by my side

No Carbo. No Sense.

2004-08-01T15:11:00.000+08:00

Was on this horrible diet (high protein, no carbo) for the last two weeks. It turned me into one cranky bitch. Or to quote my dearest Malena,

“The diet turned you into a BIGGER bitch than you already are. For those who thought that’s not possible, they’re wrong”

Splendid, what would I do without this lovely, dead honest bitch I call a friend?

HoneyR publicizes her weight lost in her blog. Man, she’s lost so many kilos and am delighted for her. But I cannot share the same encounter. I doubt I’ve lost weight at all. Plus I still have the same phobia of the weighing scale, and tape measurement forces me to flee! I lasted the two weeks with the reward in mind: the heavenly Banana Leaf at Sri Nirwana in Bangsar. Hee!

Have to say though, I am so proud of Vardamir. I coaxed him into this diet, and he’s actually doing it better than yours truly. His mood doesn’t swing (haha) and he’s managed to wiggle himself into some of his old trousers!

The experience taught me something. One, I have indeed found my true love: FOOD. My love for food is pure and true (hey, nobody told me it has to come in a human form!). Two, dieting is just not my thing.

After two weeks we were supposed to introduce small servings of carbo back into our diet. The gym even made a courtesy call to ask how I was doing. Oh, sod off! Am proud to announce that I’ve been having generous portions of carbo in each and every meal. Hah!

I. Am.

2004-07-22T19:42:00.000+08:00

I am alive
I am dead

I am fearful
I am still here

I am thankful
I am greedy

I am cold
I am passionate

I am worried
I am lazy

I am restless
I am not doing anything

I am searching
Yet not moving

Hot Stuff!

2004-07-21T18:22:00.000+08:00

This happened last week. I met someone who casually asked for my CV. He was almost pestering me for it everyday, till I handed it to him last Monday. He seemed eager to get me onboard his team. Since I’m rather tired of the line I’m in at the moment, the feeling is somewhat mutual. I later met up with him and another manager and I sincerely hope I get it.

I was having a chat with one of his recruiters today and I found out how picky his department is. Apparently the job entails high profile marketing, and they have actually rejected a few eligible candidates based on looks alone! What the?! In today’s world of equal opportunities, I am appalled to hear it happening in my own conservative (and rather government-like) organization.

Then it hit me - I am hot! I am hot for them to ask for my CV. I am hot for them to consider me (especially after reading my rather pathetic CV and its lack of technical content). I am hot for a few of them to keep asking me “How long have you been in this company? How come we haven’t met before?”

Hee!!

Vardamir says I need help for thinking so. I’m sure my friends will think so too. But what the heck! I am hot. Lalala...

I know the job must have a crappy piece to it. I’m sure there will be endless moans and snide remarks from this bitch. But for today I’m celebrating the superficial me!

Lalalala… lalalala…

*dancing with joy*

My Current Wish List

2004-07-18T17:39:00.000+08:00

Evening clutch bag from Lulu Guinness
Top up SKII supply
Keronsang set
Wallet from LV
Anya Hindmarch’s Be-A-Bag
Stella’s Eau de Parfum
Pink sandals at Pedder Red
Uluwatu kebaya top
Nokia 6230
Valentino black pantsuit

Then I questioned - why do I need all these in the first place? (Yes, I have termed them a need, not a want) Is it true that we tend to compensate our insecurities with material goods? You know what the say about Beamer drivers, right? Am I insecure of who I am as a person to be needing material possessions to satisfy my emotional needs?

I pause. Why burden myself with such torment? Why bother being deep when I am my shallow self?

A need is a need. I rest my case.

Reflex? Intact!

2004-07-13T13:53:00.000+08:00

It’s been a routine day so far. Came in, signed in, found breakfast on my desk (thanks to Eleanora – muahh!!), logged into Messenger and was automatically linked to Malena.

Remember those forwarded list of questions you’d get from your friends? The one that’s supposedly help your friends to get to know you better? And I never can remember what to answer when it comes to “When was the last time you laughed so hard?”

Now I do.

Me : oh shit. I made a blunder
Malena : ooops
Me : I thought it was Junior Colleague at his desk
Me : so I went and poked him in the waist
Me : and he turned
Me : it wasn’t Junior Colleague *horror*
Me : am laughing so badly now
Me : it was the Planner from Business Unit
Me : how stupid is that?
Malena : hahahahahaahahhaaha
Me : and Colleague 2 saw
Me : and he said
Me : “that was funny, Arysa”
Me : and now Junior Colleague is back
Me : Colleague 2 just told him
Me : Junior Colleague said
Me : "Arysa, I think now you can go kill yourself"
Me : Oh God, my eyes water. Am laughing so hard...
Me : but cannot laugh out loud
Me : must maintain
Me : oooh may need go laugh in loo
Malena : hahahaha
(extracted from my Messenger screen)

It turned out that my cheeky tie with Junior Colleague backfired. I was my impulsive self and did not realize that the guy bending over the paper work at Junior Colleague’s cubicle was someone:

1. whom I have not met
2. who has no idea who I am (proven when he later asked, “who are you?”)

yet he jumped nonetheless to the attack of my forefingers!

Reflex? Intact!

zsa zsa zsu zooom!

2004-07-12T15:11:00.000+08:00

In relationship, what happens when the zsa zsa zsu is over? When comfort seeps in, temper rises easily and fights become more frequent -when do you persist or opt to let go?

My acid test has been simple so far – fight and argue all you want, but as long as breaking up is not an option for you, there’s something going strong. The tricky bit here is having to determine that the other person feeling the same too!

I came to realize that the thing about getting to know one another in a relationship is not so much on adapting, but more importantly is to find out whether you can (and willing to) live with the incorrigible attributes. How much of the ugly side of the other person can you take in? I mean, let’s face it – there’s only so much in changing a person (not that it’s healthy to begin with). The more you try to, the more it will backfire.

Yes, am feeling a bit *blurgh* with Vardamir. Nothing major though. Me think it’s the hormones. Having said that, I do wish he's a little less stubborn. And a little more courteous. Perhaps also a little less geeky-looking. And a bit ... and less ...

:p

...and she left a message.

2004-07-06T16:23:00.000+08:00

“Arysa Aida. Mama. I understand you’ve received the message from your father. You are not going (to the ceremony) today. If you want to, you can still go, but I don’t think I can look at your face again, any other day.”

This is the voice message left on my phone last Friday, which I only came to hear today. The message was left before she managed to get hold of me.

When I call her a Dragon Lady, I am not exaggerating.

As I keep telling Vardamir, “You do not want to meet my mother. Coz when you do, all this smug confidence you have now will vanish. Just like that.”

Again, am not exaggerating.

Family Affair - Part II

2004-07-05T09:27:00.000+08:00

It is too good to be true. His family is nice and I mean, genuinely nice!

And when I related so to Non, she said, "Sweetie, it's not that his family is nice, but it's just that your family's a nightmare!"

Bitch.

I am emotionally controlled and I pride myself so. I have always been able to appear at ease and totally unaffected even when the volcano’s about to erupt in my chest. But his family caught me off guard and I did not know how to behave.

I felt out of place. I’m not used to having kids around the house; a mother who’s young at heart; and chatting and joking at the dining table. It is not humanly possible to be as relaxed at home, is it? I mean, how can one let one’s guard down at home – you’d never know what might hit you!

“You have to understand where I’m coming from”, he keeps saying. Fair enough, but he has to understand where I come from too. I was not brought up to be friends with my parents. I have to watch what I say, careful of my jokes and cautious of my behaviours. You can always tell when Mama’s home – the aura is murky, almost intimidating. Even if I call and one of the twins picked up the phone, I can always tell by their tone of voice:

Cheerful = Mama not home.
Tense = Dragon in lair.

Now that I am older, the little time I am home will be spent loafing about in my room with the door locked to guard my space. I try not to read the newspapers in the family area nor linger too long during lunch. Coz that’s almost suicidal – you’d never know when the dragon lady’s all fiery and you might be in the line of her fire!

My first brother is married with two brats. Another is a sicko who cannot handle smart women (believe me, he’s had more share handling petty girlfriend problems than others I know). The twins are surviving OK at the mo but reaching their limits after almost 17 years of age.

Sometimes I do wonder how things would be at home if Arwah (my mom’s fave) was still alive…

No dragon lady? No sicko brothers? *puzzled*

She called. She insulted. She hung up.

2004-07-02T13:41:00.000+08:00

The phone rang. I picked it up.

"Hello. So I heard you're going to today's ceremony. No, you can't. If you want to, go with everyone (in the family) to tomorrow's reception. Tell your brother the same thing. Send my regards to him, and tell him that if any of you disobey me, I'll have everything transferred to your twin sisters' names."

*click*

One: I have NEVER EVER thought about how rich I'll be when she's six feet under.

Two: WTF??!!!

(This is in reference to my cousin's wedding today. Her mother and mine have not been in talking terms for the past 4 years.)

Family Affair

2004-07-01T13:51:00.000+08:00

Oh God. Am meeting Vardamir’s mom tomorrow. Oh God. Oh God.

How the hell did he trick me into this? I don’t remember how the conversation went, but I think he dared me to. And the oh-I-will-never-turn-down-a-challenge me actually agreed to not only meet his mom (and the rest of the family!), but also to spend the night at their family home. AARGGHhhhhh!!!!

Now that that cannot be undone (I will not back out no matter what) I might as well spruce myself up. Actually, if I scheme this well, I could just turn this into my advantage. Sway his mom to my side, expose him thus makes him squirm! Nyehahahhaha!

Ahoy, I am such a genius!!

good things come to those who wait

2004-06-30T16:39:00.000+08:00

God works in miraculous ways. When things don’t go my way and I don’t get what I want, I tell myself that it’ll take a while to recognize the greater wisdom at work.

· I did not make the grades required by the Uni I planned to enroll in. Settled for my second choice and as it turns out, the whole experience gave me more than a degree, for it gave me lessons of Life. I was completely on my own and I had the chance to start afresh and make new friends, just as I wished. It taught me never to assume that the world is discriminating you, when you’re the one shutting out. It forced me to be responsible & independent, to face my fears, and feed my curiosity. It was scary. I love it!

· I did not get a job attachment I was aiming for. But because of that, I was available when another firm called for an interview.

· As potential tenants for my studio come and go, my finances were getting redder (if that’s even possible!). After a couple of weeks (and back and forth the place), it’s now occupied by a couple of Middle Eastern boys who are paying me a lot more than the others would have. The fact that they are good-looking and extremely gracious doesn’t hurt, of course.

· It did not work out with Tarzan. Heartbroken I was. Yet in replace of the Compulsive Liar is someone who is my best friend yet at the same time can make my toes curl *dizzy*

· My relationship with my mother has got to be the trickiest. But because of her, it shaped me to the person I am today – some due to her words of advice, but more on my how adaptable I become due to basic survival instinct!! Haha… Patience is key in dealing with her. And oh boy, do I need aplenty!

Good things come to those who wait they say. I say totally!

Me, Myself & I

2004-06-26T17:00:00.000+08:00

Oh God.

Vardamir is stubborn. Silently too. This is no good. Everything MUST go my way.

This is rather alien to me. With all the others I have them wrapped around my little fingers. Whatever I say goes. Even if they tried to argue with me, they did not win. After a few failed attempts, they'd give up.

Must scheme Vardamir into accepting the reality that I am

The Goddess.
The Ruler.
The Correct One All the Time.

Thus he must not question me. At all.

*mischief*

Walking with my eyes wide open and finding the road not on the map

2004-06-24T19:17:00.000+08:00

My cubicle at work has never been exemplary. But I like it the way it is. I find things fine and the organized clutter makes me look important. Hee!

Muddling through folders to find a presentation package, I stumbled upon wedding invitations that I didn’t even know I still have. More than 15 invitations in total. In other words, more than 15 friends tied their knots in the past year. And I can name at least 15 more planning their weddings before the end of this year!

Bah! I am there, aren’t I? Whether or not I like it, I am there. There where I won’t leave family gatherings without being probed about not having the ring on my finger; where my colleagues drop names of supposedly eligible bachelors casually; where everyone about my age decides they’ve tried it all, seen enough of the world and the only next step is to settle down.

You and I, we’re slowly getting used to each other. We remind each other of what we have planned for the coming weekend (correction: I with the better memory need to remind you). We come as the “partner” to the functions either of us gets invited to. And it’s mutually understood that we’d watch the latest at the cinema together.

I strongly believe that nothing is of coincidence in this world. Those I meet serve a purpose in my life. Most of the time as a reflection of myself, a challenge to my values and a mirror to my behaviours.

You and I, we’ve agreed that we are to learn from each other. I need to be more focused in life and you need to learn to enjoy the moment and not worry so much about the future. I need to be more grounded while you need to draw out the wild streak buried deep. We complement each other enough for now to try for longer.

Who knows what will be, but for now we love each other’s company. Who knows what will be, but for now we love each other. And if we take that away one day, we’ll be all right if it was just till St Patrick’s Day.

It takes a special someone...

2004-06-16T08:25:00.001+08:00

Before I left for my degree abroad, his words to me were to “go with an open mind and set your priorities right”. Years spent yet these words still go deep.

Looking at the rear-view mirror, I realized that my sense of curiosity originates from his thirst for knowledge. And that in turn, I take a crack at everything (and everyone) that intrigues me. I was raised not to hold judgments blank.

While Mama instilled caution and concern, Papa put raw oysters in my plate.

He has shaped my thinking and approach to life. I am not completely fearless, but I’d always have this nagging voice urging me to try something new always; to not think that I know everything; to be open in my views; to venture into the unknown just so thereafter I can have my own stand of my experience.

In fact, reflecting on my past relationships, the only pattern I can see is my sense of adventure!

I can go on and on about my Papa and still come to no end. In some sense his feat is commonplace. Yet, moments arise when I realize; line all the fathers in the world and I’d still pick him as mine. Any day.

Happy Birthday, Papa. I love you.

water treading ain't all smiles

2004-06-15T21:50:00.000+08:00

Am tired. But there are so many things to do. So many thoughts cluttering my mind. Am at my part-time job at the mo. It started out fun 2 seasons ago, now becoming more of a chore. Only that the cash infusion middle of each month does make a difference in my otherwise completely pitiful being! Cash flow aspect, that is.

Papa said I haven’t gotten my priorities right. He was commenting on the fact that my mobile’s been barred for more than 2 months now. Hee! The comment was such only because (I rationalize myself) he couldn’t imagine living a day without his mobile thus could not comprehend me doing so.

Have to admit however; the old man does have a point. Maybe the reason I’m screwed up IS due to not sorting my priorities straight. Recording down the outflow each month, I find a rather long list indeed. In random order:

· Zakat
· Household bills
· Money for parents
· Housing installments
· Mobile phone bill
· Insurance
· Credit card bill
(sky high now that I’ve been living on it! Thank God I only have one!)
· Maintenance fee
· Food & movie outing(s)
· Pocket money to little sis
· Those sinful visits to Chocz (this heavenly chocolate stall)
· Assessment tax (every 6 months, but wayyy overdue as it is!)
· Getting around
(believe me, this could be a lot worse if not for amazingly understanding friends who take me places)

Ooh dear… and the list is still missing my object-of-desires. Haven’t shopped for the longest time indeed.

Huh. Perplexed just by looking at this list. There is no way I can afford all this with my current pay. Must get this sorted out, but that’s another story. Now need to go find that brown bag to help me breath!

To Love is to have Faith

2004-06-12T22:30:00.000+08:00

There is never a guarantee of the future. But on a deeper level, there are certain things one will always be sure of.

When it comes to relationships, there are moments where there isn’t a pinch of doubt in you. On a deeper level, the foundation is strong, and you’d know it.

When King Leo (a.k.a. my first love) left for Hawaii for his degree (yes, some people claim to go to such exotic island to pursue their studies), I was missing him loads! But it never came to my mind to go out with other people, not even the slightest thoughts. Any guy could’ve passed my way at the time, and I wouldn’t have given a second glance. I was sure of King Leo and I didn’t want to be with anyone else.

Needless to say that it didn’t work out between us. We were together for more than 5 years. We braved the long distance and the busy schedules. Until we realize we grew apart for so long, and we were no longer the same persons we fell in love with at the start. No resentment, we are still the best of friends. We catch up whenever we can, and the connection is always there. Right now, he’s going out with the sweetest girl, and I hope he won’t screw it up :p And he’d approved of Vardamir, I’m sure.

There is never a guarantee of the future. But on a deeper level, I have equal faith.

A girl’s best friend. And it doesn’t always have to be a diamond.

2004-06-11T16:47:00.000+08:00

It amazes me how songs & smell can bring back memories. It has the power to move my mind back to that particular moment, even to the exact feeling at the time. Isn’t it incredible how the whole notion works? This has got to be the closest being to a time machine. (If there isn’t one already invented. No, the thingy Hermione used in Harry Potter does not count in this Muggle world!)

This is our song. Walking on Water by Atomic Kittens. No, no, I don’t mean Vardamir and I, but Malena and I.

The song reminds me of the morning rides to the office. The stopovers to the Convenience Store for our daily dosage of Milo. Our non-stop bitching about anything and everything in this world. How giggly we become when we’re hungry. We surprise each other sometimes when we realize we were thinking of the same thing before speaking up. And oh, we can jump from a topic to the next, and later come back to it, and not miss a beat!

But what I treasure most about Malena is she herself, for who she is. We bridged over troubled water when things went bad between Mr. Compulsive Liar and me. And later her encounter with The Bastard. I know that with her, I am not judged. She loves me no matter what.

That’s how it all started. Two jerks in our lives. There’s always uncertainty with the steps in Life. Who knows what tomorrow might bring. But for today, we cherish what we have. And for tomorrow… well, we made a pact that our secrets are ours to keep – even if we hate each other to bits!

When you hear me calling,
You always come around,
And if I’m lost and fallen,
I know I will be found,
Whatever I am thinking,
You always seem to know,
Nobody else can do this,
It makes me love you so,

I’m walking on the water and my head’s on fire,
I’m flying like a bird but I can’t get higher,
Nothing I can do, nothing I can say,
Will ever be the same in any other way,
Talking like a stranger, like I’m someone else,
I need to turn around, and recognize myself
Baby you’re the one, I can’t let go,
Take me to the places that I need to know

When I’m cold and crying,
Breaking up inside,
You’re the voice of reason,
That helps restore my pride,
And every moment with you just gets better than the last,
Promise not to leave me,
Never let this feeling pass

Together we’re stronger baby,
Standing tall through the years,
You’re my emotional rescue baby,
And you need to know, I love you so,
For always...

baggage on the sill

2004-06-08T09:40:00.000+08:00

It’s bloody frustrating. She shouted. So did I. It was like two dragons firing each other…with sarcasm!

How did it get to this? All these years, we must have been on good terms. At least for a while? Even at all? I don’t know… my memory fails me.

Am exhausted. It is not humanly possible for anyone to continue fighting like this for all these yearrrssss!

I am torn within myself. On one hand I try to rationalize where she’s coming from. I stop myself from feeling sad, angry or mistreated, just so that I won’t jump into unwarranted conclusion. I tell myself repeatedly that it’s me who’s irrational and foolish. That I shouldn’t take heart.

But I do. Every time. It hurts. Every time. It is eating me inside whether I admit it or not.

The outcry, the words I expressed, I meant them. I meant it when I said; I love her no matter what. I meant it when I said; meet me halfway for I cannot do this on my own. And that I do not expect her to understand me completely. All I wanted was for her to acknowledge me for the thoughts filling my head, for the sadness in my heart. And let’s work from there.

Did I reach that point across?

I want to make it better. I do. Truly.

Dear Lord, if I cannot win this race, let me be brave in the attempt.

Amen.

I called My Mother Today...

2004-06-07T10:08:00.000+08:00

I know not the words to utter
Have no clue what to do
This urge in me so profound
To say hello for so long

Is she not my best friend?
But she knows me not at all
The hesitation so great
Do I remain?

Does she know my touch?
Realize my love so real?
Bonding in remembrance
Time has taken us farther

Memories to cherish
Forgiveness beseech
Wisdom in wealth
To embrace in silence

Oh! What do I say?
Longing in me so deep
I called my mother today
Gently now, my dear

Empty Headed

2004-06-03T18:30:00.000+08:00

It's Thursday and hell, I don't feel like doing any work. Not that I've been working extra hard this week, anyway *blurgh*

Let's have a recap on the week's event, shall we?

MONDAY

Work Sucks!

TUESDAY

Excellent breakfast started the day - complete with made-to-order pancake, waffles & poached eggs. Fab!

Work Sucks!

WEDNESDAY

Yippedii! Meeting went well (read: I didn't look like a fool). Was all geared up to do work when Tarzan (a.k.a compulsive liar a.k.a my ex) buzzed the office out of the blue and in one sentence, had the cheek to imply that I was cheating on him back when we were going out. How dare he! That *&$@#$@!!!!! I resorted to emailing my response, calling all the bitches around him names. Ahhh... what bliss that was.

I wish him well. I wish him to hell.

THURSDAY

Vardamir proved to be more domesticated than I realized. Almost had newfound respect for him. Between the two of us, he's ivy-league intelligent. Rather absentminded. And not street smart.

We’ve only just started going out – after knowing each other for more than 2 years. He was (still is) my best buddy. Only difference is, it’s no longer platonic. Rather bizarre this feeling is, but serene. Could he be THE ONE?

In my claim to be his trophy girlfriend (new, shiny & immaculate!), I have to accompany him to a dinner party with some of his friends tomorrow night. Bugger! I tried to wiggle my way out (his friends are all weird), but he retorted rather scathingly “Well, what’s the point of having a trophy girlfriend if I can't show her off?” Cannot win, can I?

Note to self: must look extra hot tomorrow night. And naturally intelligently intriguing. Hah!