My Relationship With The One

I know it isn’t but sometimes I feel like it’s a one-sided relationship. I always talk to Him, when I am feeling happy and overjoyed or when I am down and depressed. He just listens to me while I pour out my heart. He listens to my insecurities, angst, problems, worries, concerns, doubts, issues, frustrations, fears and anxieties and also to my happiness, joy, excitement, contentment.

He is always there for me. I talk to and think of Him all the time. I’ll be honest and admit that I even talk to Him in the most inappropriate places - while I’m in the shower, in the bathroom etc. Sometimes I ask Him why my prayers don’t come true or are not granted yet. He doesn’t answer me back in so many words but in gestures of love.

I’ll be honest also and admit that there are times when I question His love for me. I ask Him if He hates me, if He is deliberately punishing me, or if I’m paying penance for something. Unfortunately, despite all He’s done for me, I sometimes disobey Him.

He lets me make mistakes and yet still loves me unconditionally. And I think He allows me to make mistakes so that I can learn from them and be wiser. Because if I don’t make mistakes, I may never learn. Of course, there are times when I wonder why He lets me make those mistakes, why He can’t just let me have a painless lesson. Yet He is patient with me even when I am impatient with Him.

And just when I think my life sucks, He gives me so much in other ways. And I am humbled and I am thankful for I am still blessed in other ways. That while my life may suck in certain departments, it may actually be better than some other people’s lives. That I should just be thankful for little blessings. I have love from family and friends, a roof over my head, a job to slog over, money to afford transportation, food on my table, friendships from my circles of friends, good education [at least I think so] and the opportunities at getting it, good health, the ability to wake up and breathe in the morning air [as opposed to being bedridden and lying there hopeless and helpless] and so much, much more. And of course, I have Him.

I turn to Him for help, comfort and solace. I never tire of asking for His help. I confide in Him. In a way, when I write in my diary, I am also writing to Him, telling Him how my day went, what I did, etc. And He just listens to me.

And that is my relationship with God.

April Love

I don’t remember exactly how it started but I remember we first went out on a movie date. It was one of those Charlie Angels flick. It didn’t matter, the movie I mean. It was the company and the time spent together that mattered.

Then we started going out more and more often. I’d ask him to accompany me to places, get something, furniture hunting, try a new restaurant, catch the latest movie... and I enjoyed doing all that with him.

I found out more and more about him as a mate. How accommodating he was, how simple a person he is. How when he speaks his soft voice melts my heart. I was amazed at how comfortable I was walking around with him in KLCC, in PJ, in BB, even in Ampang... [when there was a risk we’d meet someone who knows my parents].

It was when my British mates came to visit KL that opened up my eyes and made me realise what a caring person he was. I had an upset tummy [I have a sensitive tummy]. He was accompanying my mates then. I called him on his mobile and he rushed over to pick me and brought me to a clinic. It was Saturday late afternoon and my clinic was already closed. No worries, he assured me, and took me to another. I didn’t have much cash but he said, not to worry, he did. Then he bought me dinner and sent me home. And if I recall it, he sent a text that night to ask how I was feeling. That night I cried in bed. I cried because I was happy. That finally there was someone who cared for me the way he did. I was crying because I knew I deserve it. I deserve to be cared [and loved] like that. Well, everyone does.

And then one day, I wondered. I wondered secretly when he would ask me to be his.

He was finally persuaded to ask me the privilege of being his girl in April.

I was truly happy. I thanked God and told Him I want to stay this happy for a very, very, very long time...

Life with him was unbelievably simple. I told my girlfriends about him [not my officemates especially after that episode with Jerk]. I wasn’t shy talking to him in my little baby voice, wearing my spoilt, pampered princess face with him, being my brat self, pulling out tricks at him by hiding around corners etc, and I love him for reciprocating in return and tolerating me. He once suggested something like maybe I should behave like the adult I am and I replied something like, ‘Honey, we don’t stop playing because we grow old but that we grow old because we stop playing.’

Yes, I called him Honey. My very own Honey Hunny.

I still spent the same amount of time with my girlfriends the way I did even before I met him. I love him for not calling me to check up on me. I love him for not questioning where I was going and who I was with. The more freedom he gave me the more things I wanted to share with him, the more I wanted to tell him what I did the night or day before, the more I wanted to spoil him. The more he doesn’t call up on me the more I call him during my outings to tell him that I wish he was with me and that I was missing him already.

I never knew simplicity could feel that good. We didn’t hold hands when we walked because I didn’t and still don’t think it’s appropriate – yes, despite me being the modern City born-and-bred girl - and he respected that [I don’t think I’d like it if my daughter, if I ever have the privilege of having one later in life, goes around holding hands with some boy and I don’t think my parents would like seeing me do the same].

Oh, the things we did. The places we went. The movies we watched. The restaurants we tried out. The stuff we talked about and shared. The shopping trips he accompanied me to. The little surprises we had for each other - soft toys for him, flowers for me, to name just two. The plans we made. The peak-hour phonecalls I made from England and Japan when I was there and the text messages I sent from Makkah because I missed him and the calls we made to each other when he was on sabbatical.

But I had my issues. I’m moody. I carried my emotional baggage with me into the relationship. I got insecure. I wrestled with the demons at night. I wondered if his parents thought I could ever be the right girl for their son. And I wondered if my parents would consent to the relationship.

I was also a coward. I didn’t dare take the risk of finding out what his parents actually thought of me or what my parents thought of him. I just wanted to continue for as long as I could without rocking the boat.

In my insecure state, I started to push him away. He would always come back and pacify me, comfort me, assure me, told me everything would be alright. He wanted to take care of me. I so badly wanted to hear that. But I was too confused with myself, with my feelings.

I loved him. But I never told him that. I was an insecure girl, constantly needing to seek assurances and imposing conditions and clauses. Because I was a prisoner of my own insecurities and doubts and I focussed mainly on the negative aspects – on why it may not work instead of on the positive aspects on why it would and could work. I failed to put a lid on my doubts, even with his constant assurances and reassurances. I didn’t work that hard and play my part as he did into making it work, so absorbed was I in all my insecurities. Like I said, I was carrying excess emotional baggage leftover from my previous failed relationships into ours. It wasn’t fair at all to him but I never realised that.

I should have been braver in expressing my feelings and make love to him, instead of holding myself back because I was afraid to commit myself.

And yet he remained strong and steadfast. And somehow, the surer he was, the less sure I was, the more doubts I had. How could he be so sure when I couldn’t? And yet he remained patient with me, giving me assurances, putting up with my emotional upheaval and irrational clauses and conditions. But I was too blind to see and appreciate all that.

And one day I pushed him away too hard and too far. Because I didn’t really expect him to actually fall for it. I thought he’d give me time and then come back and pacify me, assure me, put my doubts at ease once and for all... because I thought he knew the pressure I was under at work and the turmoil I was in with regard to my future career direction.

I thank God that I still have his friendship. I thank God that our paths crossed and that I have the pleasure of knowing and loving him. And I thank God that finally, I learnt my mistakes are what actually contributed to the failure of our relationship, although it was through a painful process that I learnt them. Yes, mainly my stupid mistake and now I’m paying the price of that costly mistake.

He will always be my April Love.

And I shall stop this indulgent reminiscence trip down memory lane now.

Bored But Cured

I’m feeling bored out of my skull. Oh sure there are work to be done, all boring stuff of course. Bored, bored, bored. The section I’m in is really running thin: we haven’t got a replacement for someone who resigned with effect from 31 December, nor have we got any replacement for another who left to pursue her Master since end-January. My boss is on MC [hurrah!] and another colleague is on maternity leave [she just delivered her baby a couple of days ago].

Just thinking about the above makes me want to hyperventilate.

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After a poor night on Sunday and a slightly bad night on Saturday [had finished the two sleeping pills doctor gave me], I decided I must absolutely do something about my prolonged insomnia. So I left the office early on Monday as I planned to have an early night. And I did everything I could think of: lit up the aromatherapy with candle, lit up the salt lamp, had the sleep/eye mask handy, drew the curtain, turned on the humidifier/ioniser to drown out the traffic noise [it gets very noisy at times as cars zoom by at the road behind micasa], drank milk an hour before I slept [as opposed to drinking it just before climbing into bed], and even did some light stretching while watching TV. Alhamdulillah, I slept like a baby ‘til just before the alarm woke me up. Woke up Tuesday morning thanking God for the good night had. I repeated the same procedures again on Tuesday and Wednesday nights, just in case.

Let’s hope there will be no more recurring insomnia episodes. Amen.

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It’s been sooo unbearably hot, hot, hot the past few days. Thank God for the rain that came early this morning and that poured during lunch and the dark clouds outside that promise imminent rain.

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The bosses are away and I’m bored. Sorry, have I mentioned that before? It’s supposed to be happy hours but somehow it’s just not as fun as it would have been previously.

I wish for the umpteenth time that I am doing something I really love. And what do I love besides travelling and shopping and eating? I should be the female version of either Anthony Bourdain or Barry Vera [except I’m no chef of course and don’t aspire to be one], or the Asian version of Samantha Brown. Or I could be the real living version of Becky Bloomwood and be a personal shopper.

Instead I am doing something desk-bound with a portfolio of projects that threatens to trigger headaches in a department with a mouthful name. And golly, suddenly it’s already the end of quarter 1 with projects due for completion nowhere near completion and projects due to be started nowhere near commencement. Dang, dang, dang.

The weekend can’t come soon enough.

An Interesting Reflection: Slow Down Culture

I got the following article from a friend and circulated it to a few others.

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It's been 18 years since I joined Volvo, a Swedish company. Working for them has proven to be an interesting experience. Any project here takes 2 years to be finalised, even if the idea is simple and brilliant. It's a rule.

Globalising processes have caused in us (all over the world) a general sense of searching for immediate results. Therefore, we have come to possess a need to see immediate results. This contrasts greatly with the slow movements of the Swedish. They, on the other hand, debate, debate, debate, hold x quantity of meetings and work with a slowdown scheme. At the end, this always yields better results.

In other words:

1. Sweden is about the size of San Pablo, a state in Brazil.
2. Sweden has 2 million inhabitants.
3. Stockholm has 500,000 people.
4. Volvo, Escania, Ericsson, Electrolux are some of its renowned companies. Volvo supplies the NASA.

The first time I was in Sweden, one of my colleagues picked me up at the hotel every morning. It was September, bit cold and snowy. We would arrive early at the company and he would park far away from the entrance (2000 employees drive their car to work). The first day, I didn't say anything, neither the second nor third. One morning I asked, 'Do you have a fixed parking space? I've noticed we park far from the entrance even when there are no other cars in the lot.' To
which he replied, 'Since we're here early we'll have time to walk, and whoever gets in late will be late and need a place closer to the door. Don't you think?' Imagine my expression.

Nowadays, there's a movement in Europe name Slow Food. This movement establishes that people should eat and drink slowly, with enough time to taste their food, spend time with the family, friends, without rushing. Slow Food is against its counterpart: the spirit of Fast Food and what it stands for as a lifestyle. Slow Food is the basis for a bigger movement called Slow Europe, as mentioned by Business Week.

Basically, the movement questions the sense of 'hurry' and 'craziness' generated by globalisation, fueled by the desire of 'having in quantity' (life status) versus 'having with quality', 'life quality' or the 'quality of being'. French people, even though they work 35 hours per week, are more productive than Americans or British. Germans have established 28.8 hour workweeks and have seen their productivity been driven up by 20%. This slow attitude has brought forth
the US's attention, pupils of the fast and the 'do it now!'.

This no-rush attitude doesn't represent doing less or having a lower productivity. It means working and doing things with greater quality, productivity, perfection, with attention to detail and less stress. It means reestablishing family values, friends, free and leisure time. Taking the 'now', present and concrete, versus the 'global', undefined and anonymous. It means taking humans' essential values, the simplicity of living.

It stands for a less coercive work environment, more happy, lighter and more productive where humans enjoy doing what they know best how to do. It's time to stop and think on how companies need to develop serious quality with no-rush that will increase productivity and the quality of products and services, without losing the essence of spirit.

In the movie, Scent of a Woman, there's a scene where Al Pacino asks a girl to dance and she replies, 'I can't, my boyfriend will be here any minute now'. To which Al responds, 'A life is lived in an instant.' Then they dance to a tango.

Many of us live our lives running behind time, but we only reach it when we die of a heart attack or in a car accident rushing to be on time. Others are so anxious of living the future that they forget to live the present, which is the only time that truly exists. We all have equal time throughout the world. No one has more or less. The difference lies in how each one of us does with our time.

We need to live each moment. As John Lennon said, 'Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans'.

Congratulations for reading 'til the end of this message. There are many who will have stopped in the middle so as not to waste time in this globalised world.

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I like the message of the article. As it is, I've just finished reading a book on Swedish culture and the above article confirms what I read. A few people emailed me their thoughts: 'GruffGaffer would have stopped reading this article at para 2.' Another replied to say that his LadyBoss actually emailed it to her department. As for me, well, I’ve always believed in not working myself to death. Because it’s just not worth it.

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The lunch plan that my mates and I had been looking forward to for weeks didn’t materialise much to our disappointment so after having gone out to do buy some groceries, I returned to fill in my income tax form. I actually thought I’d do it one fine April Friday lunchtime. To my surprise, it’s sooo much easier this time around. And now I’m done. Yeay! Score for Adek!

Have a good weekend all. I’m so going to reward myself. I so deserve it!

Knackered And Totally Knocked Out

I couldn’t sleep for the past three nights; I’d be dozing off by 10 pm but would be wide awake at midnight and stayed awake ‘til dawn. It was just so frustrating and exhausting. All my attempts at getting back precious sleep didn’t work – reciting prayers, turning the pillow over, changing pillows, changing sleeping positions, even dragging myself out of bed to make a cup of hot chocolate. I contemplated taking half day off but that would be pointless as napping in the afternoon would affect my sleeping patterns anyway. It’s as bad as coming back from Haj a couple of years ago and worse than coming back from Europe last May. Heck, it’s so bad that I thought maybe I should consider taking some ‘flu pills, the ones that you have to take at night as they cause drowsiness. Whoever said going to the US would be fun?! I myself was not all looking forward to the trip because I just knew the post-trip Insomnia that would result.

So today, I decided I’ve had enough. I decided that I should go and get some sleeping pills from the clinic. I don’t like the idea of taking sleeping pills as I don’t want to be dependent on sleep-inducing drugs. But heck, I can’t take this involuntary vigil anymore. I can’t keep showing up at The Office looking like a zombie with my bloodshot eyes and yawning like anything during lunchtime and yet having to function like I’ve had an 8-hour good night’s sleep the night before.

Popped over to the clinic only to be told by the nurse that sleeping pills are controlled drugs so that meant I had to see the doctor.

Anyway, the doc assured me the pills she would prescribe me have no side effects whatsoever. I wouldn’t be dependent on them. And more importantly, I wouldn’t have problems waking up the next day. In her words, the pills are supposed to be hypnotic and calming. I needn’t have worried after all about being dependent on sleeping pills.

Phew, what a relief! Alhamdulillah. Let’s hope I can sleep better from tonight onwards. Amen.

The Last Leg Home

Am now back at Tao Yuan International Airport after an endless flight across the Pacific. And because we flew east [or was it west? Or maybe flying west to east, if that makes sense], we lost a day and suddenly it’s already Monday. It’s a short transit here and so this will be a quickie.

Managed to catch only a few moments of precious sleep during the flight. There was this chap who was content to chat to his next-seat neighbour in very loud voices. It was amazing how he managed to talk non-stop for hours. Maybe he just loved to hear himself talk because we hardly heard the other guy’s response.

Just some addendum on my trip:

The student hall we stayed at was very near Dupont Circle. And oh, adjacent to the Iraqi embassy too. We were told the Secret Service occasionally park outside the embassy to watch the place. Didn’t sight them though.

The hotel we stayed at was a charming place, located at Pennsylvania Avenue. No breakfast was provided but there is a Pakistani eatery a block away which sells halal food and that was where we obtained our supply of dinners [and because the portion was big, the leftover was saved for breakfast the following morning].

The conference we attended was unlike any previous conferences we’ve attended before. It was more of a tabling of researchs and studies done, and discussions on the researchs. I was in constant awe of the many genius minds in that room.

The weather was something else. First it was an unusually mild spring weather so much so I could literally walk without my jacket. Then it turned so bloody cold and there I was Blowing Kisses In The Wind.

We didn’t manage to go to any factory outlet but we did manage to locate Filene’s Basement and that was enough for me. I managed to get some bags for Mummy and Akak.

And now, I have to go. I can literally feel someone breathing down my neck impatiently, waiting for his turn to use this terminal. Can’t wait to go home. Darn, that’s another 4.5 hours of flight to be endured. I just miss home so very much. So, so, so very homesick. I miss Mummy very much. I miss Abah badly. I miss home.

Til the next posting back in KL then.

Relaxing @ LAX

Here I am, at LAX, another (not so) foreign airport, waiting to board the plane home. I didn’t manage to blog earlier so here’s a summary of what I’ve been up to for the past few days.

After a seemingly endless but thankfully comfortable flight across the Pacific on board MAS and 11.5 hours later, we landed on LA LA Land [I slept poorly on the flight, despite the reclining seat and ample leg room]. I had been here before many years back and this is my fourth visit to the USA. So, despite the long transit, we decided not to go venture downtown and instead opted to relax at the airport. Well, we could have taken an earlier flight but that’d mean arriving just after midnight at our destination, Washington DC, and we’re not too keen to travel into the city and having to find our accommodation too [not to mention, forking out for an extra night]. DC has a steep lodging tax of 14.5% by the way and even the most economical motel or B&B would still hurt. Also, based on my Internet search, most of the cheaper hotels/motels/B&B are located in rough neighbourhood. So it’s a no-brainer; we’d rather endure a 10-hour transit than the alternative. As for accommodation, I’m thankful for my TKCOGA network – I managed to contact and secure accommodation at a hall catered for Malaysian students in the city, and because it’s catered for students, it cost us only a fraction of what we’d otherwise have to pay.

We arrived at Washington Dulles Airport [located in Virginia] early on Tuesday morning, where a cold, crisp early spring morning greeted us [I had another sleepless night on the plane so I arrived looking like a zombie with my bloodshot eyes]. We were waiting patiently for our bags to make their appearance at the bag carousel when someone came to meet us - it turned out that the chap who I’ve been contacting for help on accommodation had turned up to meet us! How very thoughtful! I was so touched especially because I had earlier assured him a few times not to trouble himself. We were actually planning to take the coach and metro to the city.

He brought us to his home in Vienna, Virginia. It was a very cosy and pleasant family home. His wife cooked breakfast for us and even invited some friends to join us for breakfast. Again, how very thoughtful! The hospitality was touching. We however declined his invitation for us to spend the night there, as we already had booked the students’ accommodation and besides, I just hate to impose on people like that, and especially people I’ve only met too.

After breakfast, we left for downtown, thanks to a free ride from another new acquaintance we just made. Checked into the students’ accommodation, freshened up and after prayers, set off for the National Museum of Natural History. Spent a couple of hours there before walking up to Chinatown. Our hopes of getting some souvenirs there were dashed [as we could not sight any stalls selling any souvenirs] but we did manage to buy some chocolates! Yeay!

Back to the students’s hall and spent the night indoors.

On Wednesday, we checked out of the students’ hall and took a cab to our hotel. After storing our luggage at the luggage room [it was too early to check in], we took the metro and then changed for the bus to the Tyson’s Corner Centre mall. It wasn’t a factory outlet mall as I originally had thought. It was big and sprawling and yet I didn’t spend much. Hurrah to me! It was an unusually mild early spring day so after returning to the hotel and checking in, we ventured out again to the White House and managed to buy some souvenirs too!

Our conference started on Thursday and the good weather lasted til the afternoon. Then it started raining... and it didn't stop until late Friday. The weather turned freezing cold, the wintry showers didn't stop and yet we went out again on Friday evening to find last-minute souvenirs and buy stuff. We were sure glad to return to the comfort of our hotel rooms. I happened to look out of my hotel room at about 9 pm and discovered it was snowing. Oh uh!

This St Patrick’s Day morning [well, it’s still Saturday here], we went out to find yet more last-minute bargains and even took the metro to the Pentagon City mall. We returned to hotel at 1240, having requested a late check-out. The weather had improved, no more rain or snow, but still freezing cold with the temperature struggling to reach 0C! It was cold, even by my standards [I can normally stand cold weather, can tolerate that better to hot weather] and I was clad only in my denim jacket [I refused to bring my winter clothes].

Took the cab to Washington Dulles Airport at 1345. Endured a long queue at checking in and a severe checking in procedure [including removing shoes and storing toiletries in a plastic container]. Our flight was delayed by 1.5 hours and we finally arrived at LAX slightly after 8 pm. Thank God our flight was after midnight. And thank God our flight was today and not yesterday [if I’m not mistaken, some 1400 flights were cancelled yesterday with thousands of travellers stranded]. I was, however, not pleased when I was told that there was no reservation made under my name and it was a good thing that there was an empty seat left in the Golden Club class [earlier, we were told that the particular class was full]. Otherwise, I’d probably have to catch tomorrow’s flight out and check in at an airport hotel... and right now, all I wanna do is just go home.

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Washington DC...
- home to good, fine museums
- home to fine buildings
- home to the White House, where the President resides
- home to a mixed population of residents from diverse backgrounds
- ... and also home to the homeless [yes, believe it or not]. Mr George WW3 Bush has better take a walk to see how some of his fellow city residents live.

My conference observations...
- lack of good-looking eye candies
- loads of genius people [and balding too] - professors, lecturers, economists, researchers... and of course there was the serial shopper from the other side of the globe
- an Adam Sandler doppelganger who was actually a professor at an Ivy League university
- a cute [albeit somewhat balding] bored-looking chap from Harvard Business School with playboy looks became my focus of attention for most of the time [if only to keep me awake].

Other observations and thoughts...
- some people are just loud, talk as if they’re nursing a cold, and while this airport is not unlike most other airports I’ve been to, it all seems different somehow.
- some people are quite friendly and helpful.
- some people act like they have all the authority.
- I don’t think I’ll return to this continent. I can’t stand long flights [I can stand up to 13-hour flights, and that means only Europe in the future] and I don’t like the effect on my body clock. Besides, I’ve been here before; once to the West Coast and three times to the East Coast.

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I have to go now. Oh God, another 24-hour journey to be endured. Let’s hope I can sleep this time around.