2004

If this year was anything, it was a year of events. Personally, anyways. The many, many weddings of friends, close and otherwise; the births of nieces, by family and proxy-families; and to cap off the year, a death.

It may be slightly early for an end-of-the-year recount, but like I said, there's no telling when I'll next be able to log on, and this is as good a time as any anyways. Besides, the muse was visiting.

Two days ago, DrMucho called, saying the mother of a close friend, JC, had suffered a fall and sustained head trauma, and was subsequently diagnosed brain-dead. So we went to see him, to lend moral support, a shoulder to cry on, chauffering services, whatever. He seemed .. collected. Calm. Certainly shaken, but collected. I found his strength in the face of tragedy admirable.

I sat at his mother's bedside for a while, wanting to hold her hand, to offer .. something. She looked so peaceful, like she was asleep. The illusion might have been preserved had I not noticed the rise and fall of her chest move in sync with the harsh hiss of the ventilator. For every hiss was a breath sustaining her life. For every drop of dopamine was another pump of the heart, keeping her blood circulating. Without either, without both, she wouldn't be alive.

They were suspending her life - or death - so her daughter could come home from India to say goodbye.

It was terrible. It was so, so terrible. And it shook me badly. How tenuous our hold on life is.

What a way to end the year.

Certainly, this year has seen a full cycle. From marriages, to births, to deaths. More personally, I watched my brother grow up. Both of them. The elder one is now 17. Last week he attended his prom. I remember getting ready for my prom. *chuckles* Remember that, Min? Ben? :o) My little brother is all grown up! And LittleSumo, he's now three. A three-year-old terror, the tyrant who rules our house and hearts.

And I had to watch someone I love infinitely get married. Well, two of em this month, actually. Congrats Lut and Apin. I pray for nothing but the very best for you both. I love you both so very much. If F and J ever make you cry, I swear I'll get Anne and Tina together and we'll break their balls. :o) *hugz*

But I was referring to someone else. It wasn't easy watching Him marry another woman. Oh God, it wasn't easy at all. Yet, it was the right time to let go. About time. Long past due, really. :o)

And maybe it's true when they say there isn't a better way to get over a guy than to get another. Lol. I've always thought that that was a bit like exchanging the poison for a dagger, but .. lol. Maybe there's some truth in it, maybe not. All I know is that I am so grateful MrBurns came into my life. :o)

Never have I met someone who so persistently, so relentlessly, quite so successfully broke through my defences .. and as most will attest, I can be a tough nut to crack, on account of my incredible stubbornness! lolz. But he did, and in the process helped me heal, helped me let go. For the first time in years, I feel happy. At peace. Somewhat. :o)

I'm glad, this instance, he was more stubborn than me. I never thought that could actually be possible! lol! He's in London now, for his convocation ceremony. I miss you, my sweet goldfish. :o)

Enough with the sappiness. I look forward to seeing what 2005 will bring. It looks set to start strong. I look forward to next year.

My New Year's Resolution? I don't make New Year Resolutions. I hate it enough when people put expectations on me, I refuse to do it to myself. But my wish for the new year: to be happy. To have my soul happy and satisfied. To have new beginnings. To have the opportunity and space to make, or break, my own life.

It may be early yet, but here's my wish for you: that the coming year will bring you much joy, much laughter, much peace and fulfilment. It's time to leave the past in the past, and usher in new beginnings. Be well, everyone. May peace be upon you. Have a Happy New Year.

Much Love,
Jas. :O)

The Technologically Behind ...

Am having a difficult time updating .. the last working computer in the house has crashed, and I now have to resort to begging friends to let me use theirs or *gasp* internet cafes. :oP

This sucks .. it's time I upgrade. *Duh!*

I've Got A Lovely Bunch Of Coconuts

Down at an english fair one evening I was there
When I heard a showman shouting underneath the flair

I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts
There they are all standing in a row
Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head
Give them a twist a flick of the wrist
That’s what the showman said

I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts
Every ball you throw will make me rich
There stands my wife, the idol of me life
Singing roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch

Roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch
Roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch
Roll a bowl a ball, roll a bowl a ball
Singing roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch

I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts (they’re lovely)
There they are all standing in a row (one, two, three, four)
Big ones, small ones, some as big as your head (and bigger)
Give them a twist a flick of the wrist
That’s what the showman said

I’ve got a lovely bunch of coconuts
Every ball you throw will make me rich
There stands my wife, the idol of me life
Singing roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch (all together now)

Roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch (harmony)
Roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch
Roll a bowl a ball, roll a bowl a ball
Singing roll a bowl a ball a penny a pitch!

And My Temperament Is ...

Stealing a page off the incomparable MzMin. According to the Temperament Sorter II, I have the temperament of an:

Artisan

Artisans are the temperament with a natural ability to excel in any of the arts, not only the fine arts such as painting and sculpting, or the performing arts such as music, theater, and dance, but also the athletic, military, political, mechanical, and industrial arts, as well as the "art of the deal" in business.

Artisans are most at home in the real world of solid objects that can be made and manipulated, and of real-life events that can be experienced in the here and now. Artisans have exceptionally keen senses, and love working with their hands. They seem right at home with tools, instruments, and vehicles of all kinds, and their actions are usually aimed at getting them where they want to go, and as quickly as possible. Thus Artisans will strike off boldly down roads that others might consider risky or impossible, doing whatever it takes, rules or no rules, to accomplish their goals. This devil-may-care attitude also gives the Artisans a winning way with people, and they are often irresistibly charming with family, friends, and co-workers.

Artisans want to be where the action is; they seek out adventure and show a constant hunger for pleasure and stimulation. They believe that variety is the spice of life, and that doing things that aren't fun or exciting is a waste of time. Artisans are impulsive, adaptable, competitive, and believe the next throw of the dice will be the lucky one. They can also be generous to a fault, always ready to share with their friends from the bounty of life. Above all, Artisans need to be free to do what they wish, when they wish. They resist being tied or bound or confined or obligated; they would rather not wait, or save, or store, or live for tomorrow. In the Artisan view, today must be enjoyed, for tomorrow never comes.

Artisans make up between 15 to 20 percent of the population, which is good, because they create much of the beauty, grace, fun, and excitement the rest of us enjoy in life.

The Four types of Artisans are:

Promoters (ESTP) Composers (ISFP) Crafters (ISTP) Performers (ESFP)


.... I didn't think it was accurate, as those who know me well would probably concur, but interesting, nonetheless. So, I took it again and got:

Idealist

Idealists, as a temperament, are passionately concerned with personal growth and development. Idealists strive to discover who they are and how they can become their best possible self -- always this quest for self-knowledge and self-improvement drives their imagination. And they want to help others make the journey. Idealists are naturally drawn to working with people, and whether in education or counseling, in social services or personnel work, in journalism or the ministry, they are gifted at helping others find their way in life, often inspiring them to grow as individuals and to fulfill their potentials.

Idealists are sure that friendly cooperation is the best way for people to achieve their goals. Conflict and confrontation upset them because they seem to put up angry barriers between people. Idealists dream of creating harmonious, even caring personal relations, and they have a unique talent for helping people get along with each other and work together for the good of all. Such interpersonal harmony might be a romantic ideal, but then Idealists are incurable romantics who prefer to focus on what might be, rather than what is. The real, practical world is only a starting place for Idealists; they believe that life is filled with possibilities waiting to be realized, rich with meanings calling out to be understood. This idea of a mystical or spiritual dimension to life, the "not visible" or the "not yet" that can only be known through intuition or by a leap of faith, is far more important to Idealists than the world of material things.

Highly ethical in their actions, Idealists hold themselves to a strict standard of personal integrity. They must be true to themselves and to others, and they can be quite hard on themselves when they are dishonest, or when they are false or insincere. More often, however, Idealists are the very soul of kindness. Particularly in their personal relationships, Idealists are without question filled with love and good will. They believe in giving of themselves to help others; they cherish a few warm, sensitive friendships; they strive for a special rapport with their children; and in marriage they wish to find a "soulmate," someone with whom they can bond emotionally and spiritually, sharing their deepest feelings and their complex inner worlds.

Idealists are rare, making up between 20 and 25 percent of the population. But their ability to inspire people with their enthusiasm and their idealism has given them influence far beyond their numbers.

The Four types of Idealists are:

Healers (INFP) Counselors (INFJ) Champions (ENFP) Teachers (ENFJ)


.... Much more accurate, I believe. ;o)

And Yet ...

Sigh. So much to write about, so much. Yet ...

Writing is such wonderful therapy. When troubled: write. When upset: write. When I'm sad, down and depressed: write. When I'm lost, confused and trying to make sense of things: write. Yet ...

Deciding to leave the past where it belongs - in the past - is one thing. Moving on from it is another. Thing is, it is not an instantaneous process. It will - it must - progress at its own pace. I can't hurry it. And yet ...

I wish I could.

Of late, I've been living my life in the third perspective. I see what's going on, I am aware of it, yet I am removed from it all. It's like watching a movie. Nothing is personal, nothing affects me. Nothing breaks through this stasis.

I wish it wasn't so. I want to feel.

I am tired of living behind walls, of being numb, of feeling indifferent. It's wanting something, desiring something so much, yet not being able to reach out and grasp what is only an arm's length away.

With Him, it was necessary to erect an emotional buffer. When I was happy with him, I was insanely happy. Love is a powerful drug. But when I was upset, it would plunge me into an abyss of despair so absolute and overwhelming that there was nothing left for me to do but to hide and sob as if my soul was being rent into a hundred million pieces. A bit bombastic, but you know what? That really was exactly what it felt like. The highs were unbelievably high, and the lows so despairingly low. Love is a powerful drug.

So what did I do? I retreated into myself, reasoning that it was by far better to feel nothing than a destructive whirlwind of emotions. It didn't make me happy, but at least I no longer wished I would go to sleep and never wake up just so the insanity would stop. The oblivion of sleep, when I could sleep, was a blessing, a small respite from my torment, and being numb was better than going insane ... but now I'm beginning to wonder if living in an emotional fortress is any better?

I am afraid of opening myself to the possibility of disappointment again. I am not a risk-taker by nature. I am cautious, and deliberate. It takes me a while to get used to an idea, I need to let it float around in my head awhile, ponder it, meditate on it, become accustomed to the feel of it first before being able to decide what to do about it, before acting on it. I realise that this may cause me to miss certain opportunities, but I'd rather miss a few opportunities than suffer the consequences of a rash decision.

.. And I'm only just realising that sometimes what I need is a gentle, but firm push in the right direction. I am not afraid of change, but I am rarely confident enough to take that crucial first step. And much as I don't like being pushed, I think that sometimes I do need it. Only don't push too far. :o)

Nothing new, is this? *chuckles* As if I am the first person to ever go through it all. But maybe it really is time to come out of my cocoon and live again.

I'm so sorry, pet. You make me happy. Happier, at least. Sometimes. Most times. I miss the scent of you.

You're just there. And I'm trying to reach out.

Without You - Silverchair

Miles away
There's hopeless smiles brighter than mine
And I need for you to come and go
Without the truth falling out.

Old incisions refusing to stay
Like sun through the trees on a cloudy day

Telephone
Socially scared and impaired
If the trees will bloom the wind can blow
Without the fruit falling out

Feels like the wind blows
Holding you with us
She takes no other
False light and ashes
Blooming like winter

Dry eyes and cracked lips
Under the stone wall
Withdrawn and wishless

You brighten my life like a polystyrene hat
But it melts in the sun like a life without love
But I've waited for you so I'll keep crying out
Without You


~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

He got married today.

... Numb. All I feel is ... numb.

Dry eyes and cracked lips
Under the stone wall
Withdrawn and wishless
Without You

Lessons From Adrian Mole

Sitting cross-legged on my bed, typing an entry into my laptop, sipping on a wonderfully scalding mug of jasmine tea, I feel like Carrie Bradshaw - sans the bizzare (but occasionally to-die-for) clothes, the Manolos and the interesting lovers. Laughs. For some obscure reason, it feels .. cool. Eh heh. I suppose being able to identify with someone so famous makes you feel less alone in this big bad world, that you're not the only one with wonky problems. But then again, that's exactly why Sex and the City is so popular with women - we all (or almost all) identify with the ladies; we're all a little bit of Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte and Samantha, and we all wish we had a Mr Big in our lives.

I've just finished reading the Adrian Mole Diaries by Sue Townsend, the last one being Adrian Mole and the Weapons of Mass Destruction. It was a good read. Adrian starts off as an unhappy, horribly naive thirteen-and-three-quarters-year-old with a superiority complex who grows up to be an unhappy, horribly naive adult with a superiority complex, only with real, adult problems, ie. credit card debts, wages, housing mortgage, women, illegitimate children, etc. Adrian goes through his whole life believing himself intellectually and morally superior to mostly everyone else, with very few exceptions.

It's amusing to see how Adrian handles what life throws his way, and especially how he handles other people's opinions of him - which is that of a dorkish, gawky, socially awkward boy who never grew up.

I found myself being drawn into Adrian's character, mostly because it's written in the first person (they are his diaries, after all) and Sue Townsend just has a gift with words. It shocked me just as much as it shocked Adrian to discover what people thought of me - I mean, him. Of course.

And it made me wonder - is what we think we are, truly who we are? Of course, we say other people's opinions of us don't matter ultimately, but yet .. maybe we're the ones deluding ourselves.

Take Adrian, for example. He believes himself to be a humanitarian, a generous, caring and responsible member of society, a writer-savant, a misunderstood intellectual, a man of incredible wit. His friends, however, (if you could call them that) think he's a general all-around loser, a socially-bumbling idiot, frequently insensitive, delusional about his so-called-literary skills, and, to quote his father, a "tight-fisted git who always has his well-groomed head stuck in a book". Laughs.

But seriously, I wonder how many of us are like that, if not all of us?

How many of us believe we are better than what we really are?

Or is what we think we are, really what we are?

Barring those who pretend to be something they're not, most of us try to be true to our characters. We say what we really mean, act the way we really feel, and take pride in our successes and achievements, because we've earned them. But let's be honest here: how many of us really acknowledge our shortcomings, our faults, and our failures?

And that is the problem with Adrian Mole. He didn't think he had any. Well, not many, anyway, and they weren't major.

A penny for your thoughts.

However, in the last book (apparently the last book, ever), Adrian finally does grow up. Riddled with debt, desolation and romantic drama, he finally stops seeing the world through the naive eyes of a child (at the age of thirty-four-and-three-quarters), and truly comes to terms with his relative insignificance and mortality.

I read the epilogue with mixed feelings. I was glad that Adrian finally grew up, and that he now seems happy as a result of it; but I was also sad. See, to grow up, Adrian had to first lose all his illusions. Everything came crashing down on him all at once, and that was when his disillusionment occured.

And I find it sad that you have to be disillusioned to survive as an adult, that you have to be disillusioned to be realistic. How much nicer the world was behind child-tinted glasses, when the only real mean thing in this world were the adults.

Illusions are nice. Dreams are nice, but maybe they belong to another time, when the world is actually a much better place.

I Have My Own Internet Test!

Yes, the Internet-tests addict had finally got her OWN Internet test! It's like giving a 6-year-old free rein of a candy store.

>Take the Jas Internet Test<

A squijillion thanks to Fong for letting me rip a page off her site, yah? He he he. *hugz*

Mini-rant:
Well, not really a rant, but it never ceases to stupefy me how some people are absolutely incapable of finding things on the Internet when all it really takes is a few short clicks of buttons and 1.675 seconds. Have they never heard of Google?

p.s: Besok Hari Raya!!!! Happy Aidilfitri to everyone! Wishing you all a joyful celebration with your loved ones, may the blessings be in abundance. I'll also take this opportunity to susun 20 jari (tangan and kaki) to mintak ampun for any sakit hati a slip of my tongue or anything I might have done unintentionally caused. Maaf Zahir & Batin.

A Most Delightful Day

Today was possibly the best day I've had in years.

I spent it being a hippie in Lake Gardens, enjoying a bright sunny day from under the shade of trees, reading a good book and playing my guitar.

I spent it learning how to shoot arrows.

I spent it browsing through MPH and Kinokuniya for nothing in particular, and instead coming away with treasures.

I spent it sipping fragrant jasmine tea, and I spent it by having a fascinating mini-debate over the nature of Truth.

I spent it in amazing company. Thank you.

:o)

I had a lovely day. I am content.

Have a great day, everyone else! :o)

Enjoying The Rain

Talk about severe mood swings.

Solitude is a forgotten concept.

You know what's nice? Sitting up in the Kinokuniya cafe, watching the rain fall on my dusky, sleepy city with a double espresso in my hands. Alone.

Cashier: Cik, you do know it's a very, very strong coffee, kan?
Me: Er, yeees. *Cocks an eyebrow* I know. That's the point.
Cashier: Ah. *Pause* Yes. *Pauses some more* Good choice.

Same waiter/cashier also tried to hit on me. Considering I had on an almost-pyjama top over my hastily pulled on jeans (*sniff* smells clean), I thought it was amusing.


p.s. As of the last post, my "Previous Posts" section only displays, well, the current post. I have no idea how to fix it, and it's bugging the hell out of me! Does any other Blogger know how to fix this?

Cinta - Flop Poppy

Dan ku nyanyikan kau lagu cinta
Seindahnya sinar mentari
Seanggunnya sinar rembulan

Dan ku nyanyikan kau lagu rindu
Karna sesungguhnya hati ini
Masih lagi lemas dalam
Kerinduan

Cintaku
Hampir setiap kalinya
Tak jemu-jemu
Cintaku
Nyanyikan lagu ini
Cintaku
Hampir setiap kalinya
Tak jemu-jemu
Cintaku
Nyanyikan lagu ini
Penawar rindu

Telah ku sebutkan namamu
Dalam doaku setiap harinya
Agar kau kembali
Menenangkan hati dan perasaan

Ini bukan yang pertama kalinya
Cintaku pergi

Hampir setiap kalinya
Tak jemu-jemu
Cintaku
Nyanyikan lagu ini
Penawar rindu.

"Cinta" ~ Flop Poppy

Jadikan lagu ini penawar rindu.

I miss him so much. <:'o(

Wise Words (Of Warning?) From My Mother

My mother and I talked a few days ago. Not so much heart-to-heart as woman-to-woman, wiser (albeit a bit warped) mother to as-yet-still-tender daughter.

It all started with my mother talking about my sister’s somewhat-former-boyfriend, of whom she disapproves. She doesn’t think that their relationship is a healthy one, and I for one agree with her, but I think my sister needs to learn some things on her own. Truthfully, I like the guy, but that doesn’t mean theirs is a healthy relationship.

Anyway, Mum’s comment got me thinking about another conversation I had, this time with above-mentioned sister. She knows Mum doesn’t approve of her beau, and this once when I was in a nak-taknak relationship and I tried to introduce my guy to her, Mum showed signs of disapproval too, although she never said anything to me directly. I found out later that she believed the guy was after our money. What money? Haha. Thinking about it now, though, I'm certain he sure as hell wasn't in it for my irresistable charms and stunning looks, because those are non-exsistent. Goes to show you really should listen to your mother. What did I see in the guy anyway?

Well, moving on. So the million-dollar question was: What exactly is the procedure for introducing our (prospective) partners to her?

Yes, there most certainly is an undeclared procedure. We are dealing with the woman who insists that none of her (future) menantus call her “Mother” or “Mak”, but “Ma’am”. The woman who says that when she stands, then none of her menantus (or 'meng-hantu's, as she plans to call them) can sit, and that if she sits, none of their heads should be higher than hers. No, that applies at all times, not only when she's sitting. Just be grateful that she is 5”4’ and not 4”10’ like her mother is. You also had to be there to believe me when I say that eventhough she was sort of ha-ha joking, she was actually quite serious about it.

To answer the soalan cepu emas, however:

RULE #1 Do not shock/stun/surprise her. Sister's beau is 6'3" and Her Most Exalted Highness happened to be sitting when he was first introduced to her. Not a good start. He already broke this rule, not to mention ALL the provos mentioned above. On top of all that, he called her “Auntie” *gasp!!!*

RULE #2 He must have impeccable manners.

RULE #3 He must be well-dressed.

RULE #4 He must offer her tea, on his knees, kowtow three times and beg her permission to court her daughter. Actually, I was the one who had to sarcastically add this, and she liked the idea so much that she decided to add it to the other three rules. Maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut.

The list goes on, but the gist of it is that the first impression matters. A LOT. And what matters almost more is the pre-first impression, that is the impression she gets of him from us.

(More Rules:)

RULE #5 Never lie to her. Also means don’t date him secretly and introduce him only after she suspects you already have a boyfriend. Also means don’t make up unlikely stories just so you can sneak out/steal time to meet him. That’s asking for the death sentence for him with her.

RULE #6 Never make her children cry. No man is worth even the tiniest drop of tears from her children. So if you have to cry, do it very, very quietly so she can’t hear you, and if she does hear you anyway, pretend it’s your allergies acting up. I swear, that woman has the ears of a bat!

RULE #7 He must offer her tea, on his knees, kowtow three times and beg her permission to court her daughter. *G*

Yes, she has a lot of Rules for whole sets of what she deems proper comportment, but it essentially boiled down to this:

1. that he be a good man, with good values, good intentions and a good heart,

2. that he respects you as an individual, and most importantly, as an equal human being,

3. that he never abuses you; physically, mentally, emotionally, or otherwise,

4. that he is not some insane psycho whose idea of a marriage proposal is threatening to burn down your father’s house if you refuse. Yes, it’s true, I am not kidding.


My mother is also not only unconcerned that at my (what some would consider) advanced age I am still single with no boyfriend, nevermind marriage, in sight, but she actually seems .. relieved. In fact, she all but forbids me to even think about marriage.

Last week, we were at the jewellers, toying with the idea of buying this sumptuous diamond necklace. It was absolutely stunning, with a wreath of flowers and leaves intertwined in a somewhat abstract motif, intimately circling the neck, coming to a beautifully spread rest at the base of the throat. Absolutely exquisite.

Unfortunately, a piece like that needs an Event to do it justice, and we aren’t exactly what you would call socialites. Mum jokingly said that well, just to wear that necklace, we would have to have a wedding! I jokingly replied that well, sigh, I guess I’ll just have to get married now, won’t I? To which she replied, "Kahwin?!! *shudder* Oh no no no no.. Not yet!" And she was dead serious.

It was during this last conversation I had with her that I found out the reason why.

She wants us to meet more people, date different types of men, as many as we can, before we finally decide how we want to settle down, and with whom. She wants us to know all the different types of people, their different personalities, to know what people are truly like before we make that major decision. She wants it so that when we finally make that decision, it will be an informed one. She wants it so that we’ll never regret the decision we made, and even if we do regret it, that we don’t regret it too much. She doesn’t want us to make the same mistakes she did.

There’s a saying that goes, "You learn from the mistake of others, because you won’t live long enough to make them all yourself." I don’t know who said that. I got it from a Domino’s fridge magnet, but as dubious as the source may be, it doesn’t make it any less profound or true.

All my mother was trying to tell me is that she wants to do everything in her power to prevent us from having the same regrets she had.

We’ve always been a close-knit family. We’re very affectionate with each other, and we tell each other ‘I love you’ a lot. For so many years now, we kids have been taught to be adults, to be responsible, to be grown up. Sometimes, when we’re exercising our rights as adults, Mum nags and nags relentlessly, about how we don’t dress well enough, about our staying out late, about talking on the phone so much, and we think, "God, give us a break, Mum! We’re not kids anymore!"

But when she told me how she would protect all her children from unnecessary pain, unnecessary regrets, regardless of whether it’s her daughter or son, I felt something I hadn’t felt in so many years. I felt like her child again. And I realised that despite all the nagging, she really meant every word of it, that she would protect us with her life. I’ve heard it all before, she’s said it so many times, but only then I realised the full meaning of what she was saying. She would give her everything for any one of us, she would give her life for all of us, the way she would for nobody else in the world.

This is what unconditional love is. This is what it truly is.

...

She also told me that even when you’ve made the best decision you can make, it can still turn out to be the wrong one.

And when (if) that happens, you’ll have to either bite the bullet, or you admit your error and try to rectify your mistakes. Either way, you’ll ultimately only have yourself to depend on.

She also passed on to me words of wisdom she learned from her mother:

1. Never depend on a man, no matter how good he is. Learn to be self-reliant.

2. Even if you are married and he makes a million bucks a week, have your own source of income, or be able to because there is no telling when you might need to fall back on it.

3. Always wash your hands before you cook, and make sure the food is always thoroughly cleaned, even if it is not totally fresh. Your food will last for days.

Actually, my grandma taught me the last one. Hey, it's very important, ok? Not everything important is related to relationships! ;o)

You learn something new everyday. The difference lies only in whether you choose to heed it or not.

I've Got Prostitutes In My Room ...

... flowers, that it. *smirk* My room smells lover-ly! *twirls*

What I learned today: If you're feeling suicidal, do NOT listen to Neon Ballroom by Silverchair. It's just the thing to push you over the edge. Literally.

Not to say I don't like the album, I think it's a great album, but it's extreeeeemely depressing! <:o(

Also, not to say I'm feeling suicidal, but just take my word on this. Do NOT listen to this album if you're going through a breakup/depression/pet dieded, etc. You'll go nutters.

On the other hand, Gutterflower by the Goo Goo Dolls is a great pick-me-up. Then again, I might just be biased. ;o)

Leaving The Past Where It Belongs

So, here we are again. It's been a long time since the last post, huh? Two main reasons: no inspiration, but most pertinently, no Internet connection at home! *Sob!* The house is getting a major face-lift, and I think a workman tripped over the phone cable (which runs over the roof) to my streamyx. Then the other line got its service temporarily disconnected because the bill wasn't paid. No Internet! Really can sei lor... Fortunately, we went to pay the bill today. Hooray! Streamyx still down, tho. Boo!

Oh, before I forget, a belated Happy Birthday, Ben, my love! I didn't forget, sweetheart! May you be Blessed with the best life has to offer, dearest, and find much joy within. I love ya, Bennie! *G*

And speaking of Bern, I was watching this mini-series on HBO earlier: Carnivale. It was on at about 10:30pm, and I think it was the fifth episode. Must look for the others. It's dark, reaaaaaally dark, but sooo good! *shivers* I watched the first half of it in utter confusion, and the ending totally stunned the hell out of me. My God, was it dark! And that, of course, brought comparisons to Poe, which, natually, led to our MzFernz. Gosh, how I miss you, Ben!

~@~@~@~@~@~

I had a Conversation today. Yes, a Conversation. No, a Conversation. Nods head, for emphasis.

Anyway, it made me realise a few things, and it brought a measure of closure to an issue that has haunted me persistently throughout the last two years, or so. And it was .. liberating. It hurt like hell, it did, but this time, it was a good kind of hurt; one that you know will only accelerate the healing.

Sometimes you cling onto things because .. hell, I don't really know why. I suppose you're afraid of losing it, because you're afraid you'll never again find something quite like it, ever. Even if it's bad, you cling to it because even if it's bad, at least you still have it. Despite all indications, all logical and rational thought, all portents and signs otherwise, and against all well-meaning advice, you're afraid to go without it again, not when it's something you've always wanted, asked for, prayed for. Something you've always dreamed about, something you never thought could possibly exist. It's hard to give up a fantasy come real.

Then, one fine day, you realise just how stupid you've been, chasing after something that really isn't yours to hang on to. And you realise just how ridiculous the whole situation has been, how futile your persistence was as you realise that this was simply something Destiny hadn't cast as your lot. And when you're able to wake up one day, and laugh at your own stupidity, then can the healing begin.

It still hurts to let go, it truly does; partly because you're still so afraid, and partly because you've been at it for so long, and everyone knows how hard it is to break a habit. But hard as it might be, painful as it might initially be, you no longer think it'll kill you. And the fear is still there, only it's no longer all-consuming, tying you down.

This might not seem like a big deal to some of you, but it is to me. I feel .. liberated, and it feels wonderful.

This is a time of great introspection for me. Therefore, as usual, my phone will be switched off, indefinitely. To You, I'm so sorry, I really am, but this is something I need to do, for a while. You know who you are, dear. I really am sorry, I'll make it up to you somehow. I just need this time alone for me. Don't be too upset with me.

The world looks beautiful right now, and I feel wonderful.

p.s. MrBurns, yup, my email account has deleted the posts you sent. I really would love to read them, and I would appreciate it greatly if you would resend 'em, please? Thanks a gajillion, pip. :o)

Tomorrow, It's Only A Day Away

Insomnia is an old friend. I haven't seen her in a while, but she's on an extended visit this time around. I been able to catch not a wink of sleep in 36 hours, and I'm weary.

I guess that the word for it: weary. I've had a lot of things running through my mind, and I wish I could make them stop.

I wish I could start things anew. I wish I could leave the baggage of yesterday behind and instead embrace the promises of tomorrow. I wish I could drop the weight of yesterday's ghosts.

But you can't, can you?

Sometimes you're just so overwhelmed, it overcomes everything else so absolutely, and you're left wondering, "What now?"

If wishes were horses, I would have a Jaguar.

Happy Birthday Nadyn!

Nadyn was born today, 23rd October 2004! The next generation of GirlyGirls has begun!

Went to visit the radiant new mother, and the .. father. There is no adjective for MrNads, he is an adjective unto himself. lol. I mean it in a good waaaaay!!! :o)

I don't know how or where to even begin to describe how I felt, it was a wealth of emotions. I felt .. awe. Wonder. Joy, excitement .. and absolute, unadulterated fear. Amazement, total admiration for MrsNads and MrNads. Happiness. Envy for their happiness. But above all, true joy for their family. It was .. overwhelming. Needless to say, I hot-footed it out of there before the bawling started. Nasib baik a certain someone wasn't there, otherwise it would be the Great Flood all over again. :o) Sorry, for the teasing, luv.

Congratulations to the new parents. May your joy be everlasting and the blessings be in abundance. God Bless!

A Terrible Pang of Nostalgia

For those who don't already know, I worked in a steel mill once. I know the word 'mill' tends to evoke images of grainary mills, or lesung batus, but no, this is a plant where scrap steel and iron ore were melted down at one end and steel bars came out at the other end.

It was hot, dirty, grimy, sweaty, long, hard hours of totally hands-on work. Work began the moment you stepped into the plant, and ended only when the job was completed. Sometimes that meant going home in a near zombie-like state at 10pm. I climbed up 60 foot catwalks, crawled into furnace crevices, wedged myself against walls to get closer to hydraulic cylinders, and frequently spent hours dissembling and overhauling air motors and pumps.

If I had a manicurist, she would have dropped dead of horror at the sight of my nails. Make-up was a luxury reserved for Fridays, the only day I had off, since technical staff work six full days a week. The six days I worked, I forewent Bobby Brown's Sheer Matte Pressed Powder in Sand for a heavy dusting of furnace/steel dust, which was oh-so strikingly set off by a generous rougeing of diesel oil and grease.

The potential dilemma of choosing something to wear each morning was totally non-existent. Six days a week, I wore baggy overalls and clunky steel-toe-capped safety boots. Second hand. Accesories were a safety helmet, face mask and workmen (or in this cawe, workwomen) gloves. Hair was another non-issue. Styling it was totally out of the question due to stay-factor. It always knotted into a servicable braid. My face and hands were perpetually streaked or covered in grease and/or black oil, as were my clothes. You can forget about trying to wash the grease out of your overalls, because baby, they're there to stay. At least until your overalls disintegrated.

However, seeing as how I was ONE female out of almost 500 men working in the plant (that place has an approximately 8:1 male:female ratio!), I refused to allow my feminity to be totally overwhelmed. The uniform and the safety gear was absolutely necessary, but I would almost defiantly put on the lipstick (budge-proof!) every morning, and painted my white safety hat with pretty flowers and butterflies. Erm .. the flowers and the butterflies were also a sort of insurance against helmet theft. I had lost three helmets prior to my last one. After the artwork, it never got nicked again ... ;o)

The work was tough. Dirty, grimy, sweaty and the long hours were sometimes overwhelming, not to mention demanding. Everyone expected you to give 110% all the time. If you had a job to do, you finished it. If you haven't, then you stay till you do.

By the way, did I mention I only worked for 10 weeks to fulfil my university's Industrial Training requirement? That's right. All that was expected from a trainee!

But I loved every moment of it. Every single sweaty moment, every single minute I worked. I loved it even when, as the lowly trainee, I was given the filthy task of emptying the tank of hydraulic oil and was drenched head-to-toe - with hydraulic oil! It took me two hours and 2 bottles of shampoo to get myself satisfactorily clean. I loved being in the furnace control room, 20 metres from the flaming, 1500oC furnace.

Perwaja Steel has received - and still is receiving! - a lot of bad rep. Management-wise, I say they deserve it. From a technical point of view, however, I don't believe I could find a better place than that to work in. Never before have I come across - or even heard of - a place with better work ethics than Perwaja. Almost everyone is just so responsible for themselves, that the place almost runs itself! If you had a job to do, then by Jove, you did it. Tea break ends at 3.30pm, and whoops! It's 3.25! Time to get back to work! I was fortunate enough to have the freedom of moving around the different departments as I pleased, which resulted in my getting to know my way around the Mechanical Services department pretty well, and at almost every sector I noticed that not only the managers, but even the lowest technicians themselves were self-responsible. I found the level of work-integrity astounding.

Truly, there is no way one can go to this plant, see the way it works and still come away with the perception that this efficient, productive plant is an ailing company unable to cover it's own expenses, not to mention not generate a profit. As with the last owners, it's a management issue. *Sigh* People will never learn.

But beyond everything else, I loved the people there the most. Yes, for their integrity, but also for their open-naturedness, the way they take you in and care for you as one of their own, the open camaraderie, most especially for the way that everyone there seems to be family. I can't drive in the streets 100 metres before I get honked at - not in ire, but in greeting.

I went there dreading the fact that I would have to survive 10 weeks not only in the farther reaches of civiliation (read: KL), but also that I would have to put up with kampung people. How wrong I was!

Chukai in Kemaman is a little town, only a 15-minute drive across including traffic light stops! Anonymity is only an option for those passing-through. Everyone knows everyone else. Even if they don't know you personally, they've definitely seen you at least 5 times before. It doesn't even get to 6 degrees-of-separation. If you know even just 2 locals, hey! You're most likely already connected to everyone else in town! Never more truly have I come across a more perfect place to put to the phrase, "Where Everybody Knows Your Name." Heck, they probably know even your grandmother's name!

Small-town folks are greatly under-rated, at least in Kemaman they are, anyway. Another thing which so endeared them to me was their sincerity. City folk are of a much harder, flinty nature. I loved the laid-backness of the people of Kemaman, their lack of subterfuge and snideness we city-folk possess. They are not so petty, and so very much more trusting. Imagine leaving your car idling out front while you go in to buy a pack of cigarettes and hey! Your friend is here, a little chat would be in good order. It had my city-bred-wariness clanging in high alarm the first time I came across it! Aiyo! Until I left, I never completely got over the nervousness.

It was only 10 weeks, yet this experience has been indelibly etched in my soul. A healthy place to work, a wonderful place to live. Perwaja is a bloody playground for engineers; every working engineer's wet dream! And Kemaman is a wholesome place to live. Also, it's not so the back-and-beyond as one might think. It's only a 30-minute scenic drive to Kuantan. Heck, it sometimes takes me longer than that to get to KLCC! Oh! And a fabulous plus point is that it's only a 10-minute drive to beautiful, beautiful Cherating! *glee!*

I learned so many lessons in those 10 short weeks: lessons in business, management, and in engineering. Lessons on how to live, and hard lessons of love. I made so many honest friends there, people who have remained real and true despite the separation of distance and time. Kemaman has forever staked it's claim in my heart. It was, without question, the best 10 weeks of my life.

Extreme Randomness

Having to revert to dial-up connection really sucks after the wonders of broadband. *Sob!* The things you take for granted! Hopefully, this will not be permanent.

For some reason, I really miss walking around Singapore. Boycott Singapore!!!!!!! Seriously though, they've got an unbeatable public transport system. Lovely. Boycott Singapooooooore!!!!!!

Haha! This made me laugh so hard today. I hope it made you laugh too. *G*

Am currently going through a carrot cake addiction phase. With cream cheese icing. LOTS of it. Yum. As a result, went on a cake-baking frenzy. Am now stuck with carrot-cake muffins (with cream cheese icing!), a chocolate cake, an apple cake (with cream cheese icing!) and a loaf of pound cake and banana cake each.

Selamat menyambut Ramadhan, y'all!

p.s. Ann's brother is in the ICU with demam denggi berdarah. If you could spare a doa or two for his safe recovery, please? Thanks, all. God bless.

The Most Kesian Song Ever

My, my. Is this place depressing, or is it just me? Wait a minute, this place is me.

:o)

This is the most kesian song I've ever come across. It's got one of the cheeriest tunes I've ever heard, but the lyrics .. aiyo! Kesian! As soon as I hear the intro, I break out in a smile, no matter the mood I'm in. It's one of those songs you'll have to hear for yourself, I suppose. Enjoy!

~ This lighthearted moment was brought to you by Coke and Lindt ~ There IS such a thing as too much sugar! ~

She Hates Me
~Puddle of Mudd~

Met a girl, thought she was grand.
Fell in love, found out first hand.
Went well for a week or two,
Then it all came unglued.

In a trapped trip I can't grip,
Never thought I'd be the one who'd slip,
Then I started to realise
I was living one big lie

She fucking hates me.
Trust!
She fucking hates me.
la la la laaa!
I tried too hard
And she tore my feelings like I had none
And ripped them away!

She was Queen for about an hour,
After that shit got sour.
She took all I ever had
No sign of guilt,
No feeling of bad, no!

That's my story, as you see
Learned my lesson and so did she.
Now it's over and I'm glad
'Cause I'm a fool for all I've said

She fucking hates me.
Trust!
She fucking hates me.
la la la laaa!
I tried too hard
And she tore my feelings like I had none
She fucking hates me!

p.s:
Ins, will take you up on yoga offer, after I've:
1. bought yoga mat, which I can only afford after I've:
1.1. paid off my Maton 12-string acoustic guitar, which, insyaAllah, will be after the next paycheck. Yippie! Guitar baru! I can't wait to hold my baby in my arms ... *sigh*

Love

Is there anything more irrational in this world? Politics, maybe, but it still doesn't beat love.

Love. People are willing to travel to the ends of the world to find it.

What for?

I've been in love. Just twice. The real thing, mind you, not some 2-month infatuation. I don't fall in love so easily. But believe you me, it hasn't done me any favours.

Nevertheless, I came across this today, and while I feel totally drained over the subject, for some reason, this has given me a little bittersweet faith that maybe love might one day turn out to be not so bad, after all:

" You young kids out there. Fall in love. Fall in love.

All of us should have:

A first love
The first everything
The bad boy/older woman/younger men and women
A partner who breaks our heart
Someone you can never have

And someone who loves you for who you are, and will never betray you, will never cheat or lie to you. Someone who'll be there for the rest of your lives. "

~ "Do You Remember", The Gongkapas Times by Dina Zaman

To Him.

Fuck Him.

What makes men think that they're allowed to play games? They hate it when women play games, and then they do a 180 and, in turn, fuck with your mind.

Why is it that He is allowed to ask me the most difficult questions, and actually expects me to answer them .. and yet, avoids one I ask at all fucking costs?? Fuck You. I know they're difficult, but you think the things You ask me are so fucking trifling to me? Fuck You for thinking you're the only one entitled to fucking answers!!

Fuck all men who play games. No, screw that. I curse them all to an entire life of UnFuck. No fuck, of any form, of any magnitude what-so-ever for the rest of their fucking lives.

*Fumes* How is it that you can love a person so much, and yet hate him with every fibre of your being? I so fucking hate Him right now.

Fuck this. Love him or not, it's time to fight back. I've fucking had enough of being Little Miss Understanding, Little Miss Complacent, Little Miss This-Is-Fun-Fucking-With-Jas'-Mind. You owe me answers, and they're way past due.

I've truly got nothing to lose. I have nothing. I've always had nothing, from You. Now it's time to get something back for me. No more Little Miss Nice-Girl.

It's time to fuck back.

The Scent of Lilies

My room smells heavenly. The bouquet of Madonna lilies I got from my mum for my convocation ceremony this morning is now sitting in a vase, permeating my room with its delicious scent.

Nothing beats the delicate fragrance of fresh flowers, Ambipur be damned. My favourites are lilies, jasmines, roses .. and the prostitute flower. Hehe.

I'm not sure, though, if flowers are the best smelling things on earth. I mean, chocolates smell pretty wonderful too. Famous Amos. Yum. And RotiBoy. *Groan* Not much else beats the smell of RotiBoy. When the doors to the Putra LRT open at the KLCC stop, the wonderful aroma of Rotiboy is the first thing to hits your senses. Yes, it's that kau. I love buying the buns home. My car smells so yummy! Why can't they make RotiBoy car perfumes? The floral ones make me so loya. Give me a RotiBoy air-freshner and I'll ferry everyone to work every day.

lolz. We'll take it easy today, folks. It's been a wonderfully light-hearted day for me, something I've been needing badly of late. Today has been a lovely day. I hope you all have one tomorrow. God Bless.

To Cut A Long Story Short

Okay, so I had the whole rest of the 'chronicles' all written down and pre-saved, but after posting the first two, I thought, "Who the hell is really interested in this rambling?" The thought which immediately followed was, "Nobody." Yes. So I shall spare you all and just skip to the bare essentials.

Went to Medina. Just as beautiful as I remembered. Felt like I had come 'home'.

Left Medina, went to Mekah. 5-hour bus ride again. Stopped in pretty courtyard-like mosque in Mina. Arrived in Mekah close to 10pm. Performed umrah, stayed back at mosque while everyone went back for sleep for a bit more ibadat-ing, ended up staying till Subuh coz too tired to walk back to hotel.

Day after, went to Padang Arafat. Rode camel with sister. Better than 6 Flags. Took lots of pics, got chased and cursed at by crazy swindlers with Polaroid cameras. Psychos. Went to Jamratul Aqabah and made jokes about the three 'setan's. On bus ride back, worried about later kena sambar petir. Fortunately, did not happen. Made more jokes. No, will never learn.

Stayed 6 days. One-and-a-half hour bus ride to Jeddah with bus-driver-from-hell. Amazed by the fact that although there seemed to be very little regard for traffic rules in Saudi, did not see even the teeeeeeeeniest accident. Mujarab Tanah Suci, kot. Six-hour wait in Jeddah airport, two-and-a-half hours flight to Dubai, one hour transit in Dubai, five-hour flight to KL: arrival 5pm, local time. We were finally home. Exhausted, but so glad to be home.

Highlights: Though I absolutely love the city of Medina and the city of Mekah not at all, being in the Masjid Al-Haram in Mekah was like a homecoming, of sorts. Although I said that being in Medina was like coming 'home', it's more like Al-Haram is 'home', and Al-Nabawi is my 'room'. This isn't mini-blasphemy, is it? It's just more personal in Medina. Nevertheless, the minute I laid eyes on the Ka'abah, I felt like I was someone who had travelled the world, and finally returned.

To say I merely dislike the city of Mekah would be severely understating it. I almost despise it. The people are so rude, the climate so unforgiving, the city itself almost totally bereft of any beauty. It is truly a harsh land with harsh people. In my opinion anyways.

Medina is its total opposite. Yes, I know that geographically they are practically the same, yet, the climate in Medina is by far more comfortable. Yes, it still is a desert, just like Mekah is, but while the desert of Mekah seems almost cruel, the deserts of Medina have an inexplicable beauty in their barrenness. The people are by far more refined, polite, more genteel. There is no competition. Medina will always come out tops with me.

I have been told that not everyone feels this way, not everyone finds Mekah so unfavourable. Apparently there is a reason I love Medina more: evidently, I am a person who berjiwa lembut. *Snort* But, seriously, it is apparently for the very same reasons the Prophet Muhammad s.a.w. chose to make Medina his home. Or so I have been told.

Despite despising Mekah, however, there is a peace to be found in the Masjid Al-Haram which I don't believe can be matched anywhere else in the world. It's like being in a loving embrace. All your troubles simply fade away. I should know. I have them in more than plenty. It's not saying my troubles simply vanished. No, the issues are still there, only sans the anxiety. The problems don't go away, they simply become unimportant for a while. A sort of meditation, only you don't have to go into a trance, or chant, or zikir, or pray to achieve it. It simply .. happens.

It was like coming home. It was laying your head on your mother's lap, weeping as your heart bleeds while she strokes your hair. It was, in a rare moment, being completely honest with yourself. It was a moment where you no longer had to pretend you are trying to be strong. It was a moment where you laid open your soul, leaving yourself completely vulnerable, and finding strength within that. It is the one place you have left to turn to, to be completely honest and receive no censure.

It was a moment where you recognized the divine, and acknowledge its undeniable presence. It was a moment where you realised what 'divine' truly means, that it is no single entity, and that not 'one' person, or 'one' religion, or 'one' civilisation can lay any claim to it. It is free for whoever who chooses to believe it, and whomever who does choose to believe it, it opens the mind to a whole new realm of endless possibilities.

It was a moment where all my faiths were reaffirmed. There is a God, and that God is good and kind. We make our own suffering and we create suffering for others, no help necessary from Lucifer & Co.

This is turning 'preacher'-ish. Must apologize. I am not trying to pass any of this off as truths, they're just some truths for me. It's the sentimental part of me showing through.

Towards the end of the trip, I was almost pining to come home to KL. As they say, your visiting Mekah is an 'invitation' from God to visit His home, and I guess our invitation was up. On the last day, I could barely stand spending another day in Mekah. Being in Jeddah, despite the six-hour wait was a relief. It was like that the first time I went too. Despite that though, as we made our farewells to the Ka'abah, I wept bitter tears at the possibility I would not have the opportunity to come again. I can't wait for the next time I'll be able to go.

Chapter 2 - A Opossum Goes to Medina!

We arrived at the Jeddah International Airport 8pm-ish. We left the airport 10pm-ish. That's right. 2 bloody hours of waiting in line for immigration checks. And it wasn't even the busy season. Gah!!

The Jeddah International Airport .. eh. For a country which receives several millions of visitors each year, they could do with resurfacing the asphalt, painting the walls, expanding a wing or two .. heck, scrap that! They should raze that place to the ground and start over! Seriously, it's not like they lack the funds to do it!

Alright, it's not too bad, actually. The air conditioning is fantastic! Most important, that. Hehe. Otherwise, think along the lines of Terminal 3, Subang Airport. Not even as big as that. At least T3 had a second floor. The JIA has just some 8 arrival gates and 10? 12? departure gates. Of course, the gates I saw were numbered in the 50s and 60s, so they may have more gates that I didn't see. Or maybe they just numbered them that way to create the illusion of a larger airport. Hehe. Mentang-mentanglah dia ada the ultra-modern KLIA, pandai pulak komen pasal airport orang. ;o)

Anyway, what followed was a bumpy, 5-hour bus ride to Medina. If you could call it a bus, that is. It was a cross between a van and a mini-bus. I think it seated 20 max. Seeing as how we were a party of only 13 though, it was comfortably spacious. The bus driver however, *shudder*. He must have driven straight out of hell, gotten lost and decided to stay here on Earth to terrorise us hapless, helpless pilgrims. I believe it was God's ploy to make us appreciate the small things we take for granted - the tame Malaysian drivers, road courtesy, traffic lights, oh! not forgetting to mention our lives.

Fortunately, the medication I took to supress my air-sickness hadn't yet worn off. My GP assured me it was not a sleeping pill, although it does have that effect on me. Therefore, I slept for the bulk of the journey. In my in-between moments of wakefulness, however, I discovered something I didn't remember from my first trip there - local radio stations air mengaji tracks in lieu of Justin Timberlake and co. But what amused me the most was that our driver was singing along to it! lolz. Beribadat sebelum mati ke? What with the way he was driving and all. Needless to say, there weren't many moments of wakefulness. Whenever I saw him swerve into the next lane, missing the other car by inches, I'd quickly shut my eyes and go back to sleep. I figured that if I had to go, I'd like to go as painlessly as possible. Amazingly, though, we arrived in Medina in one piece. Whadda ya know? Miracles DO happen in the Holy Lands!

It was close to 3am by the time we settled into out 4-star accomodation. Do not let this misguide you into believing we were given plush quarters. You know how the 'star'-rating is NOT the same worldwide? How almost each country has it's own definition of each 'star'? Yes, apparently, in Mekah and Medina, it goes like this: one star each for: beds and attached bathroom, air-cond, proximity to the mosques (if it's right across the street, that's TWO stars!!), dining facilities, ELEVATOR, etc. Yes, ladies and gents. Nevermind that the furniture looks like it could have been used by Khalifah Ali himself, and that you had to wait 2 minutes for the elevator DOOR to CLOSE, we stayed in a 4-star hotel! *G*

Also somewhat unfortunate was the fact that we arrived at 3am when Subuh prayers was at 4am. Groan. No time to sleep. ALSO, we only had 2 days in Medina, which also translated into no time to sleep if we wanted to take in the sights and go ziarah-ing. I barely got any sleep since I arrived in Dubai, but I figured that I could catch up on it once we finally get to Mekah. Our travelling had been (and would still be!) at a hectic pace until then.

Our hotel was just a short walk down the street from the women's entrance. Just for that, I didn't care what my room looked like. The convenience beat it all to inconsequence. Right after we dumped the bags in the room, we immediately left for the masjid.

I walked with eager steps. After four long years, I could hardly believe I was finally here again! Scepticism always meets this thought, that once you've been to the Holy Lands, you'll always want to return. Sceptics can believe what they like. It's true. It seems like I had only been there a few weeks ago, yet it had been too long. And now that I was finally back in this city I love so much, sleep can wait! I want to see my Medina!

~ to be continued ~

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

p.s: Wonderful plans for today and tomorrow have gone belly-up. I feel like a yo-yo. Why do I let things get to me?

The Adventures of Jas the Opossum - Part 1

The roses are blooooming! The rabbits are fluffy, the sun is shining, and the grass is cloud-soft! Am currently in the best of moods! *G*

How is it that some things are able to inspire you to such mood-extremes? But so long as it's a good extreme, then what right have I to complain? And depending on certain factors, I'll probably remain in this blissful state of near-euphoria for the next three days, at least. *G*

Right. I know I said I would write some days ago, but the computer crashed (again!) and brilliant us (me and siblings) forgot (again!) to back-up our more recent files. *grumbles* So because I was in a merajuk mood, although I have a laptop, I was boycotting all computer-leisure related activities. Hah! Irrational, I concede, but if the pissed-off-ness has degraded so much that you've gone into merajuk mood, it's obvious that you've given up all claim to rationality. N'cest pas?

My birthday passed without .. incident. Thank God. My (non-immediate) family can be somewhat demented. Thanks for all the birthday wishes!

Thanks also for all the well wishes regarding the umrah and return! And now, for all of you who have been asking for "The Adventures of Jas the Opossum and Friends - Jas Goes To Mekah!", here it is! Only it'll have to be in installments because Jas the Opossum is crap at summarizing, and in case you hadn't noticed, is superlatively verbose. Nyeh eh eh.

p.s: Nads, I saw the word 'mayn't' used in literature recently: in Henry James' "The Golden Bowl"! So there you go! *G*


~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~


Chapter 1 - Jas in Dubai!

Our journey began at KLIA. Duh. Fast forward 6 hours and we found ourselves at the Dubai International Airport. I, the snobby Malaysian-with-the-KLIA I am, expected a not-even-Subang Airport-type facility. Boy was I wrong! It totally slipped Jas' mind that Dubai is the Middle Eastern playground for the ultra-rich. What we were met with instead was a KLIA-standard facility, only maybe 1/3 in size.

[mini rant]
Y'know, when they take away the 'duty' to give us 'duty-free' shopping, then hike the prices up sky-high on account of it being at an airport, 'duty-free' shopping becomes a load of baloney! *Huff* Then again, what would I do with an ashtray carved to resemble a semi-nude nymph?
[rant over]

As we flew Emirates, we were in transit in Dubai (that's doo-BAY, not doo-BUY, evidently) for 16 hours. Yeesh. Plus to that the fact that we arrived at 1am-ish, they gave us accomodations at the airport hotel.

How often does a girl find herself in Dubai, baby?!! (Shuddup all you jet-setting rich people! lolz.) Not one to pass up an opportunity, I roused everyone at 8am to go sight-seeing! It didn't help in making me Little Miss Popular, but I wanted to see Dubai!!!

I should have just slept in. Beach-malls-beach-malls-beach-beach-beach-malls. Very LA ... or Penang. Seeing how it was also a Friday (which is their weekend), most of the malls were closed. Sigh. And add to that the fact that we were all covered up (due to being on 'umrah'), watching everyone prance around in bikinis and Speedos in the hot, hot sun, well.

The only semi-highlight to the 'tour' was seeing the very-hyped-about, most expensive and only seven-star hotel in the world, the Burj Al-Arab in the flesh. Err .. in the concrete-and-steel. Glass-and-canvas. Whatever. And I say "semi-highlight" because we couldn't actually go into the hotel to have a look-see. While we were riding in the taxi, I joked that the hotel is so exclusive that we would probably have to pay to breathe the air. Mulut masin! It costs 200 dirhams just to walk over their foyer for non-guests!! That translates into RM200, approximately. Yikes! Oh! But you get a free drink! (What? Liquefied gold?!?!!)

We headed back to the airport to catch our connecting flight at 2pm. Spent a leisurely time browsing through 'duty-free' items (cekik darah!!), sipping Turkish coffee. Yum. I can't find Turkish coffee anywhere in Malaysia! Forgot to buy some back. :o(

One question: why are there so many Bangladeshis in Dubai?? The airport was absolutely teeming with Bangladeshi arriving and departing. Even more weirdly, they were buying 'duty-free' foodstuff by the trolley-loads and stuffing it into their luggages. Absolutely boggling. On our 5pm flight to Jeddah, easily 60% of the passengers were Bangladeshis. The fragrance! The aromas! The choking bouquet! *Aheks* Cubaan! Thank God it was only a 2 hour flight ......

~ to be continued ~

*YAWN*

Hallo. I am back. I have been back since Sunday, 4.25pm. (Unless, of course, you consider being in Malaysian airspace as 'back', in which case I have been 'back' since Sunday, 3.25pm. Inaaaaaane....)

Who sez working with your mother is lelaxing?? For all you people out there who think I've got a cushy job, you obviously don't have a mother like mine, who roped us into working the very day after our arrival, even though we 'officially' applied for leave till Tuesday.

Hence, I am exhausted. Travelling 'back' in time is okay. It's travelling 'ahead' that leaves me no choice but to prop my eyes up with paper clips at 10am.

Updates must wait. Bringing my body clock forward takes precedence. Give me .. till tomorrow? Heh heh.

Mekah, Here I Come!

It's 11:19pm, and I've only just come home from a whirlwind absolute-last-minute shopping expedition. Heh heh. It's amazing how much you learn about what's available in your neighbourhood after 10:30pm. ;o)

I have yet to start packing. Haha! Looks like I'll be up all night stuffing my bag. I figure there'll be ample sleep time on the plane. ;o)

Will therefore be A.W.O.L. for the next 10 or 12 days. I could probably find Internet connection in Saudi, but it's hardly likely I'll log in. You understand. ;o)

I'm ;o)-ing a lot. I'm hyped! I'm excited! *G*

Intinerary: KL-Dubai-Jeddah-Madinah-Mekah-Jeddah-KL. Two days (of shopping! eh eh heh) in Dubai. Heard lots about the city. Can't wait to go! I hear the Burj Al-Arab is something else. Am planning to check it out. Will they charge me for walking over their foyer carpeting?

Whatever awaits me in Mekah, I am ready for it. See you in 12 days.

;o)


~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Anonymity Is Underrated.

There's a lot to be said of the benefits of being anonymous. Like, DUH, Jas! *D'oh!* <- Homer Simpson style. People use blogs (or online-journals, or whatever it is you choose to call it) for many different reasons. Some as an actual diary, some to practise their writing skills, some to inflate their own egos, and (like someone said) some simply to tell the world about their screwed up lives and blacken other people's names in the process. (!!!) Huh.

For me, like I said in my very first entry (I think), this is a place for me to share my thoughts, vent my frustrations, and share my joys with others. Someone, anyone, no one. That's the beauty of publishing on the Internet. Nobody necessarily reads your writing, yet it feels as if someone does.

Another beauty of the Internet is the option of anonymity it offers. Sometimes I wish I had opted for that.

While I don't mind sharing my thoughts and joys with other people, it's sometimes hard to write the things you want to write about without intruding on the privacy of others. Because people know you, they also usually mostly know who you're talking about. Sticky. She would know exactly what I'm talking about.

Thing is, honestly, this is a good place for me to rant and bitch and complain whenever I need to. Well, 'good' here being totally relative, of course. It's definitely good for me. Heh.

Unfortunately, sometimes, I can't. Much as I need to rant and let it all out, I cannot ignore the boundaries of other people's privacy, no matter how much the rant-ee has pissed me off. And it all makes me wonder why the hell I didn't just be anonymous from the start.

But I know why: because otherwise, who would read it? lolz. Yes, ladies and germs, it's Ego, screaming for it's time on the soapbox. *Sigh* Yes, I also realise that my logic is chasing its own tail somewhat, but pteh. I never claimed to be logically coherent. :o)

So I'll just have to suffer the pains of my Ego. Maybe I'll start another blog as an Anonymous. Hmm .. yes, maybe I will. I'll be sure to give you guys the new address.


p/s: No, I'm not pissed off with anyone. Just musing. :o)

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Yes, yes, I know that it is unacceptable to begin sentences with 'and', 'but' and 'because', but frankly, I never understood it, and they fit, so nyeh.

A woman is in labour delivering her first child, and her husband stands by her side, holding her hand. A contraction hits her unawares, and she starts yelling, "Can't! Don't! Didn't! Won't!!!"

"Doctor!" says the panicked husband. "What's wrong with my wife?! Why is she yelling like that?!!"

The doctor looks up and says, "Contractions."

~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~@~

Unkymoods! They were too cute to resist. Thanks to MzMin, MrsNads and HoneyR.

A Penny, A Pound.

A .... lot .... has been happening, but as is typical, nothing of monumental significance. Enough to make me think about things, though. Maybe I'll share them later, when I'm feeling more ... articulate, or lucid, because despite having a lot to think about, nothing really seems really important, and I'm not really able to express them well right now anyway.

I'll be leaving for Mekah to perform umrah next week. Will be leaving on Thursday evening, to be exact. I am looking forward to this trip, I have been for a while now. Excited is not the word, Eager might be better. It is an eagerness which almost borders on the verge on urgency. Almost.

At a time of great confusion in my life, I seek answers. I seek clarity. I seek resolution.

I seek to understand the meaning of it all. I'm going with the hope that I might find peace. While I realise, realistically, that a miracle is unlikely to occur while I'm there, I'm hoping to find solace in the only Place I have left to turn to.

This last week saw a .. change, of sorts, in the way I've been looking at things. While much of the same things have been running through my thoughts, I've been viewing them in a very different manner - totally devoid of emotion. Very objective, very impersonal, very clinical. It's very strange. You know how sometimes your eyes skim over the words on a page, and while you're reading the words, you're not really comprehending it? That's what it feels like.

In a place where wishes should not be made lightly, it's as if I'm trying to put my priorities in order - determining what is truly important, what might be frivolous, and which are just plain foolish. I must admit that I had an almost desperate wish to make. Yes, it might have been all for the wrong reasons, but it honestly wasn't my main motivation for making this journey, and it was a desperate desire all the same. Now I wonder, is it really so important? As the saying goes: "Be careful what you wish for. It might just come true."

I'm not a very religious person. I try to be the best person I can be, in all aspects, but I'll be the first to say that I'm not very religious. Yet Faith and Beliefs are something so unseperable from what you are, whether in excess, moderation or lack of it. It cannot be denied, and sometimes it's the only thing that keeps you going.

I don't know. Whatever. I'll not bother you with this mystical-ish mumbo-jumbo. In short, I'm just a girl looking for answers - on a semi-expensive trip. :o) Wish me a safe journey?

Hurricane Ahoy!!

This was the funniest thing I've seen today! Enjoy, compliments of Jay's Party! *G*

What Being Malaysian Means To Me

The title makes me feel like I'm writing an essay for school. *winkz*

On the night of the 29th of August, I went out for dinner with a few friends. Of course, the matter of Merdeka Day came up, it being the night before the eve of and all. What came up in the ensuing conversation, with regards to the forementioned topic, was:

1. that it would be a public holiday, and
1.1. what will you be doing on Tuesday (Merdeka Day), ah??

2. tomorrow night: countdown. You counting down or not?
2.1. where? BBWalk? Dataran? KLCC?
2.1.1. eh, i heard got AF/Erra/Too Phat/etc. concert at yah-de-yah place. you going there izzit?
2.2. countdown at club, ah?
2.1.1. which club, haaaaaaaa?

All I could do was sit there and listen to the conversation with absolute dismay. What made me even more distraught was another topic which wove itself intermittently through the conversation, which was the subject of P(ermanent)R(esidence)ship in a foreign country.

How the hell does someone talk about applying for PR - and possibly migrating - in the same breath that they mention our Independence Day? No, less a matter of 'how do they?' than a matter of 'how can they?'.

Patriotism is, apparently, dead in most places. We were sitting in the middle of a busy eatery, and all around me I could hear plans of where who would be going for the countdown, which club, which bar, which pub they would go to, meet who and who and who, call so and so to join us, then can paaaaaarty (I hear such-and-such club is having Happy Hours till 2am, wor!).

If only these people really listened to what they were saying. Hello, it's Merdeka Day? A day to commemorate the day our country gained its independence 47 years ago? Sure, a lot of us were not yet around to witness the Event first-hand, but isn't that why we celebrate it every year? To make us aware of it?

I'm finally beginning to understand the purpose of all those tedious Sejarah (History) lessons in school. Sure, they were boring, but now I see just how necessary it all was, and still is.

It made me sad that grown adults talked of such a significant day in such an insignificant manner. It made me sad that Merdeka Day was a day to go have dinner at some fancy restaurant and then head for expensive wine(s) at the nearest lounge. (Merdeka Day, what? Special day! Must celebrate, so must spend money la!) Did being a free country really mean so little to them? For crying out loud, they can do that on any other day! Does the special day meant to commemorate the day we achieved Independence mean so little to them?

These past few years have seen more wars than I care for, the most recent being the war in Iraq. Poor, poor Iraq. Freed of one tyrant, only to be the lackey of another. Does America really think they fooled anybody by declaring Iraq 'independent' now? Poor, poor Iraq. Thing is, this issue is not even really over yet. Are Malaysians so thick-skulled that they cannot learn from the mistakes or misfortunes of others? Thinking about the whole Iraq issue makes me appreciate my country's independence even more.

But what disappointed me the most was the topic of PR. All my dining companions, with me being the only exception, were either:
1. in the process of obtaining a PR,
2. applying for PR soon, or
3. interested and will work on applying for PR in the near future.

Countries of choice, in a roughly descending order: Australia, US, UK, Singapore (bomb Singapore!!). Australia was by far the favourite, owing to the fact that many already have relatives of some sort already living there. ('80's migration boom.)

To me, listening to my fellow countrymen talking about swearing by another country, it felt almost tantamount to betrayal. I'll allow that I may have been overreacting to it a wee bit, but to say it didn't sit well with me would be grossly understating how I felt. So, feeling the (possibly unreasonable) need to 'defend' my country somewhat (against my own countrymen! Oh, the pain!), I asked them why they even want a PR status in someone else's country.

They looked at me as if I were a simpleton, an idiot who never bothered to find out what went on beyond the length of my own nose. The reasons are simple, Jas.
1. Jobs. It'll be much easier to get a job in Australia, coz most of the time, if you don't have at least PR status, your CV won't even be looked at.
2. Careers. Work overseas, got standard, mah! If you want to come back to work here (although only God would know why you would want to!), better chance of getting a high-paying position! But why come back? Overseas pay in USD or AUSD. More money, what! Come back here, get paid in Ringgit, cheh! Peanuts, man!!
3. Status. People back home hear you live overseas, waaaaa! Glamour, man. What's more, even your family back home can tumpang glamour, got relatives in angmoh country, almost just as good as an angmoh themselves!
4. And most importantly, Security. Ya what? If Malaysia suddenly got war one day, how? Must have a security net somewhere! Somewhere to run to in times of trouble! You stupid, ah? You mean you never thought of all this before?

Nationalism is well and truly dead, at least with that group. Loyalty is a dirty 7-letter word, patriotism a forgotten sentiment.

To say I was disgusted is putting it mildly. I was so offended, at more than just their thoughtless remarks, but at their sentiments as well! And their gall! We were just talking about Hari Merdeka!!!

Jobs, careers, money to be made, Malaysia is a rich land, with more than enough opportunities for them to make oodles and oodles of money! What makes them think that the foreigners are going to welcome outsiders into their countries with open arms and press them to their bosoms? Ei, you are going there to take their jobs, take their money, live on land that would more rightly be theirs. What the hell makes you think they're not going to fight you, if not openly then in a million small ways? Come on, lah! What makes you think that they're not going to treat you the same way we treat Indonesian, Filipino and Bangladeshi workers here, no matter how professional you may be, ha? To them, you are Third World, man! So many people, when thinking of migrating, think that they'll be welcomed with rose petals strewn in their paths.

As for security reasons. *snort* This disgusted me the most.

"If got war, then how? Must have somewhere to run to! Safer that way! You should be more long-sighted, Jas!"

Kepala hotak biul engkau! What the hell makes you think I'll abandon my country in her direst time of need?!?!!! If there is a war, like hell I will stay and fight for my country! This is my home! I will fight for her with the last living breath in my body.

Hujan emas di negeri orang,
Hujan batu di negeri sendiri.
Baik lagi di negeri sendiri.

I finally understand what this means. I'll take my chances with the hujan batu.

This land I was born in, this land I was raised in, this land that fed me, nurtured me, protects me - this is my home, no other. She has claimed me as hers, and I have claimed her as mine. More significantly, I belong to her, as she belongs to me. There is something so welcoming about this land, that unexplainable something which makes it unmistakably Home. I'll not run like a coward to seek refuge in another country. I'll not abandon her like a traitor, I'll not renounce my loyalty to her like a betrayer. This is where I was born, and this is where I hope to finally rest.

Long-sighted, my left ass. *snort* I am disgusted they can't see the worth of things beyond saving their own necks.

This one year, the whole family went to the Royal Selangor Club on the eve of Merdeka Day. We had dinner, then stayed on for the countdown. As the clock struck midnight, shouts of "Merdeka! Merdeka! Merdeka!" filled the air, fists thrust towards the sky, and the national anthem started. The Dataran was filled to bursting with people, and as the national anthem played over the loudspeaker, everyone stood to attention, but went on chatting with each other.

In a quiet corner of the balcony where my family and I stood, two mat salleh couples sat, having drinks. If I remember correctly they were English. As the clock struck twelve, they rose from their table and stood with the rest of us at the railing. When the national anthem was played, they stood to attention. While some Malaysians on the Dataran chatted and horsed around, they sang our national anthem out loud as they watched the flag being raised 100m into the air. At the end of the anthem, they clasped each other around the waists and kissed each other. Then the men shook hands, while the women hugged. Then they turned to us, smiled, and wished us all "Selamat Hari Merdeka".

I never forgot that. I was fourteen. It took two mat salleh couples to show me what the spirit of Merdeka was all about.

Merdeka is the legacy our forefathers left for us. Merdeka Day is not an excuse for rave parties, it is a day to reflect on the battles our forefathers fought to achieve Merdeka, and it is a day to appreciate and celebrate their victory. For certain, celebrating it is more than a little alright, but all too often nowadays, the partying goes into overdrive whereas the true significance of the day becomes almost incidental.

Merdeka celebrations get to me. Huge emotional affairs. Smothering my car with flags the whole month of August doesn't make me a patriot, I carry the spirit of it with me everyday, even when I'm not conciously aware of it. Some days, I'm overwhelmed by how fortunate I am to be living in such a country so blessed with so much. And some days, I'll even remember to be grateful we live in a free country. Our own country, somewhere we truly belong. And it has to be asked: What does being Malaysian mean to you?

SELAMAT HARI MERDEKA!

Blurry - Puddle Of Mudd

Blurry. This song pretty much sums up everything right now. :'o(


Blurry

Everything's so blurry
And everyone's so fake
And everybody's empty
And everything is so messed up
Pre-occupied without you
I cannot live at all
My whole world surrounds you
I stumble then I crawl

And you could be my someone
You could be my scene
You know that I'll protect you
From all of the obscene
I wonder what you're doing
Imagine where you are
There's oceans in between us
But that's not very far

Can you take it all away
Can you take it all away
Well ya shoved it in my face
This pain you gave to me

Everyone is changing
There's no one left that's real
So make up your own ending
And let me know just how you feel
Cause I am lost without you
I cannot live at all
My whole world surrounds you
I stumble then I crawl

And you could be my someone
You could be my scene
You know that i will save you
From all of the unclean
I wonder what your doing
I wonder where you are
There's oceans in between us
But that's not very far

Can you take it all away
Can you take it all away
Well ya shoved it in my face
This pain you gave to me

Nobody told me what you thought
Nobody told me what to say
Everyone showed you where to turn
Told you when to runaway
Nobody told you where to hide
Nobody told you what to say
Everyone showed you where to turn
Showed you when to runaway

Take it all away
This pain you gave to me
Take it all away
Take it all away.

~Puddle of Mudd~

Sentimentality

*Groan* It's been a busy week. I can't believe tomorrow's already Friday. Where has the week gone?! No, don't tell me. I already know. I've uncovered the REAL meaning to ISO - Invention untuk Seksa Orang. *gnashes teeth*

~@~

You know how some songs are so beautiful they make you cry? Songs that are so full of yearning? So much raw emotion? Here are the top songs which could reduce me to tears at the drop of a hat - when I'm in the right (or wrong?) mood:

1. Always With Me, Always With You - Joe Satriani
2. Here Without You - Three Doors Down
3. Naked - The Goo Goo Dolls
4. Falls On Me - Fuel
5. Wasted Time - Amir Yussof
6. Masih - Flop Poppy
7. Cinta - Flop Poppy
8. Slide - The Goo Goo Dolls
9. Without You - Silverchair
10. Why - Avril Lavigne
11. Time Stands Still - The All-American Rejects
12. Numb - Linkin Park

Temperamental sentimentality.

Yep, they're all rock songs. "Masih" might be the only exception, it's very jiwang-type. I typically hate jiwang-type songs. I blame Mariah Kari (Carey). She turns sentimental melody and lyrics into an overblown ego trip. Ooooh! Look how I can taaaaaaaarik this! I'm sooo good ..... *preen* Okay, maybe that was a little harsh. Doesn't change the fact that she makes me hurl, tho. *winkz* Nothing beats jiwang-rock songs for raw pain, babeh. No, Marilyn Manson is not raw pain. He's just plain psycho..

Quiz: The OK Cupid Test!

I love Internet Tests! How else would I know what kind of person I am?!! *winkz*

The OK Cupid Test





The Priss : Deliberate Brutal Love Dreamer (DBLDf)

Mature. Responsible. Aristocratic. Excuse me. The Priss.

Prisses are the smartest of all female types. You're highly perceptive, and confident in your judgements. You'd take brutal honesty over superficiality any time--your friends always know where they stand with you. You're completely unfake. Don't tell me that's not a word. You're also excellent at redirecting internal negative energy.

These facts indicate people are often intimidated by you. They also fall for you, hard. You have a distant, composed allure that many find irresistible. If only more of them lived up to your standards.

You were probably the last among your friends to have sex. And the first to pretend that you're pregnant. LOL. Though you're inclined to use sex as weapon, at least it's not as one of mass destruction. You're choosier than most about your partners. A supportive relationship is what you're really after. Whether you know it or not, you need something steady & long-term. And soothing.

Your exact opposite: The Playstation (Random Gentle Sex Master)

ALWAYS AVOID: The Playboy, The Loverboy

CONSIDER: The Manchild

~@~

Deliberate: (as opposed to Random) Makes decisions carefully. Is aware of, and weighs, consequences. Takes time to think things through.

Brutal: (as opposed to Gentle) More selfish than average. Selectively moral. (Ed: Eh heh hehhh ...)

Wants Love: (as opposed to Sex) Love is subject's primary motivation.

Dreamer: (as opposed to Master) Relatively innocent. Unjaded. Possessing undiscovered potential. Evolving.

~@~

" These facts indicate people are often intimidated by you. They also fall for you, hard. You have a distant, composed allure that many find irresistible. (Ed: Yah right.) If only more of them lived up to your standards. (Ed: Snob!!)

You were probably the last among your friends to have sex. And the first to pretend that you're pregnant. LOL. Though you're inclined to use sex as weapon, at least it's not as one of mass destruction. You're choosier than most about your partners. A supportive relationship is what you're really after. Whether you know it or not, you need something steady & long-term. And soothing. "

How many times have I heard other people tell me this, or (let's be honest here) think it myself? It's freakily uncanny. Silly as some of the questions in this test is, it makes you wonder at its accuracy, somewhat.

Missed Opportunities?

Today, someone almost (more or less) handed me something I've most desired for ages, on a silver platter. I've been wishing for it so badly, wanted it more than I could ever express, and today, it turns up. All I had to do was play my cards right, and Jas, being the brilliant opportunist she is, what does she do?

She FUCKS it up!

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

When things are this screwed up, nothing beats the mother of all swear words. That little four-letter words just sums the fuck-up in its entirety. Just saying the word expresses all the frustration pent up like nothing else can. Repeating it on a loop for 20 continuous minutes accomplishes many things, amongst which are:
1) relieves you (somewhat) of the stress brought on by your idiotic mistake, even if the relief is only temporary;
2) reminds you what a *&$^%#@ idiot you are ...
3) .. and punishes you for it;
4) will be an efficient reminder to never commit the same mistake again, by virtue of the memory now associated with that little word.

Fuuuuuuuck!!!!!!

"Honesty is the best policy" is SOOOO over-rated!! Who says honesty is the best policy?!?!?!!!!! I fucking won't make that fucking mistake again!

*fumes*

Quiz: Which Greek God Are You

Aphrodite/Eros


?? Which Of The Greek Gods Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla

Quiz: Sex & The City!

You Are Most Like Charlotte! You are the ultimate romantic idealist. You've been hurt before, but that hasn't caused you to give up on love. If anything, your resolve to fall in love is stronger than ever, and it's this feminine optimism that men find most appealing about you. Romantic prediction: That guy you are seeing (or crushing on)? Could be very serious - if you play your cards right! Which Sex and the City Vixen Are You Most Like? Take This Quiz Right Now!

Under The Weather

I'm as sick as a dog. No, not that kind of sick. I'm ill, lah! I think I'm coming down with a fever/cold. My head feels like it's stuffed-to-exploding with wet cotton, my eyeballs feel like they're about to pop out of their sockets, my nose feels like it's being plugged with an industry-sized drain stopper, and my throat couldn't be more raw had I tried to outshriek Chester Bennington 13 concerts running.

What's worse is that I can't taste a thing, which makes me constantly, raveneously hungry. What's weird is that eventhough my sense of taste is kaput, I have this insatiable craving for cheese. Melted cheese over bread pieces in my tomato soup. It's all I could stand to eat today. I've already guzzled down two cans of Campbell's Tomato Soup, half a packet of cheese, and about half a loaf of bread - but I'm STILL hungry! The only reason I am not still eating is because I am shuddering at the thought of what this is doing to my diet. Ish. So much for following (or trying to) HoneyR's good example! Humph!

Being sick has it upsides, however. I got the rest of the day off work. Yahoo! Sure, I was too out of it to do anything fun with my half "day off", but I got to sleep the rest of the day away. The things you take for granted when you're not working. Ish ish ish.

Also, MrMechanic brought over some chicken porridge when he heard I was sick. Tee hee. So what if it was McDonald's and he forgot to ask them to leave out the oil and garnishing which made my throat itch worse, and that I had to answer the door looking like Frankenstein's worst nightmare? It's the sweetest thing anyone who's courting me has done for a loooooong looooooong time.

He sat with me while I finished my porridge (terpaksa telan!!) and handed me tissues to blow my nose. I have no doubt I looked quite the fright, but when your head feels like it's being pounded on by Donkey Kong, you tend to let go of some hang-ups. You have more important things to be concerned about than whether your shirt brings out the best in your red-rimmed eyes. But if he wasn't cringing at the hacking cough and foghorn-like nose blowing, then I suppose it wasn't that bad. :o) Then, he fetched a bowl of ice-cream from the kitchen for me. Awwww. And it didn't even matter that he took 15 minutes to get it, and that the kitchen looked like it had been raided by the hungry forces of Attilla the Hun when he was done. Goes to show that men should really be kept out of the kitchen!

A girl could get used to being courted like this. *winkz*

Who is this MrMechanic, I hear you ask? Remember the younger man I was whining about? Yep, that'd be him. He's been pretty sweet these past few months, and despite my initial misgivings, I find myself rather liking being treated like his princess. Sure he's still a bit gawkish, but rather than irritating me, I find myself becoming rather fond of my grease monkey. Today topped it all. Good God, I haven't quite fallen yet, but I think I've tripped and sustained a serious sprain!

See how far you can get by being sweet to women? I don't think any of us are totally unsusceptible to it. *laughs* We like knowing we're the Queen of your lives. Once you make us feel that, we'll give you the world.

~@~

p/s: I just got the results of my ill-fated drum exam today. Not so ill-fated after all! I scored a high Merit! Yipee! I missed Distinction by 2 points. Dang. I knew I should have kept my mouth shut at the end .... *winkz*

Today's such a good day! (Yes, despite being ill.) I haven't felt quite so lighthearted in weeks! Now, if only Amir Yussof will turn up at my doorstep to serenade me to sleep. *swoon* Heh heh. Hugz all around!