What Have I Done To Deserve This?

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. I have always been a very good girl, and also plain Lucky. You see, two lovely lasses whom I'm Lucky to now call my close mates, had actually bought it for me. Sure, I blogged about my lust for it earlier but never in my wildest dream did I think anyone would even take it seriously. Now, I’d make sure my special someone gets the hint of course but I didn’t expect my lovely, thoughtful mates to get it for me. And because it was not yet available in KL (I only found out it had reached KL shores a fortnight ago and was thinking I’d get it at the next Isetan sale), my buddies actually considered purchasing it online, scouring eBay and whatnot. They then changed their minds and decided to obtain it in Europe.

Oh. My. God. They went to all that trouble just for me? They spent that much money just on me? What can I do to deserve more such thoughtful, kind, lovely people as my buddies? That is just The Sweetest Thing anyone has done to me in a while. Their very thoughtfulness is enough to make my eyes swim.

I was so shocked and surprised and delighted when I received the gift, I kissed one of them deeply. Now, that shouldn’t be weird or unusual but we don’t show Phileo Love often enough - our society is too conservative for such an open display of affection although pecks on the cheek are common enough (though to some, it’s more a process of almost rubbing cheeks and kissing the air – if you have one of those, then I don’t think it’s an exchange with a close mate). I would kiss the other lassie too but I’ll probably just embarrass her.

I am such a lucky bunny. Thank you, God, thank you for my mates. I am so blessed, I am (and I’m not only just saying this because of the gift). And thank you buddies, for making me feel special (continue indulging me), for your thoughtfulness and for being Simply The Best.

I love you, girlfriends!

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Fàbregas was voted as Arsenal.com’s Player of the Season and received his award before the match against Newcastle.

The 31st August Weekend

The weekend marked the last few days of the year’s mega sale and I’m glad to report that I managed not to spend too much (though I have most definitely way overspent in August *gulp*). But there will be festive sales soon, I’m sure. Went out on Sunday afternoon and was caught in a heavy downpour. So many people thronging KLCC (were they shopping, window shopping or seeking refuge from the rain, I wonder?)!

Saturday marked Fàbregas’ return back to the Premier League after playing on Wednesday against FC Twente (where the latter’s manager suffered another raining of goals). The Gunners played host to Newcastle - mind you, this was the team that held ManUre to a home draw two weeks prior so there was reason for concern. I was a bit surprised to note that Northern Rock still sponsors the Magpies’ jerseys. Anyway, Arsenal was back in business, high on the success of Wednesday’s despatch of FC Twente, and played irresistible football. I was glad to see van Persie slot in the penalty and the second goal courtesy of Eboue’s backheel instead of launching the ball into the sky as he was becoming prone to doing. And Denilson added a third goal for the host and his first for the club. Everyone played well, even Clichy could have scored too. Then, Keegan decided to introduce bad boy Barton into the game in the last couple of minutes and he made his mark alright by putting in a hard tackle on Nasri. Barton does seem to find it irresistible attacking French players.

Fabulous return! Cor!

Denilson and Fàbregas battled for the ball from Nicky Butt

van Persie’s penalty

van Persie and Fàbregas celebrate

With Eboue

Good job, Eboue (finally)!

Team still celebrating second goal

Denilson’s goal

The pain on my rump worsened during the weekend so much so that I actually remarked to Mummy that if humans were born with tails, the pain I was feeling must have been how it would have felt if the tails broke off. And I even wondered on my own, gosh, this must be a fraction of how hurtful sodomy is. Not that I have any idea of that whatsoever, of course (my imagination was running amok over the weekend, blame it on the pain). Another visit to the doctor was made and I was assured that this kind of injury would take a week to heal. So sue me for being impatient. I now have to perform prayers (and tarawih too!) sitting down (and there’ll be lots of sitting down this month as I attempt to finish my Quran recital).

It’s fasting month and I shall attempt and strive to be more careful with my speech and that includes writing in this blog (so help me God) and to be more patient (not easy) out of respect for the holy month. Wish me luck. After all, I did manage all that before for a few weeks in the Holy Land (though I immediately regained my impatience shortly after returning home. Tsk, tsk, tsk). One question though: why are people more focussed on breaking fast and on Eid (the cookies, the new clothes, the new deco, etc, etc) than on the deeds they should instead perform in this month? Why, the orders for Eid cookies were already out at the start of Syaaban month. How do we start sympathising with the less fortunate when we can’t even begin to appreciate their hardship and suffering?

Happy 51st Merdeka

I finally had the opportunity to watch the Petronas 51st Merdeka Ad on Wednesday evening (at first, I wasn’t sure it was even a Petronas ad as it features Afdlin Shauki). It brought tears to my eyes as I remembered the sacrifices that my parents made in raising us. And I wonder if I would and could ever repay them for all they’ve done. I’m still trying to do that but I know the account will never be balanced no matter how hard I try.

The ad also gives another message: don’t ever let anything get in your way. Find your own way and work hard for what you want. Don’t let early frustration hold you back and don’t expect instant gratification. Things will not fall into our lap if we don’t work towards it. And yes, it is encapsulated in the Petronas microsite: Patience, perseverance and hard work paves the road to success. Even the Holy Quran says: Verily never will God change the condition of a people until they change it themselves (with their own souls).

This year, we will be celebrating our independence day amidst weaker economic conditions, rising food prices, higher energy prices and increasing inflation, just to name a few.

Back at boarding school, we had this annual tradition on the eve of Merdeka: the fifth formers would perambulate around the school compound before gathering at the netball court near the Dining Hall. Our year was no different and we made the traditional circumambulation with our raised lanterns (and yes, in our nightgowns! Well, it was an all-girls boarding school so what the heck anyway). We assembled at the netball court just before midnight and at the stroke of midnight, we sang the National Anthem before singing our college song. We also sang ‘Warisan’ (I can’t quite recall the order of the songs but we may have sung this song when we were circumambulating):

Anak Kecil Main Api
Terbakar Hatinya Yang Sepi
Airmata Darah Bercampur Keringat
Bumi Dipijak Milik Orang

Nenek Moyang Kaya Raya
Tergadai Seluruh Harta Benda
Akibat Sengketa Sesamalah Kita
Cinta Lenyap Di Arus Zaman

Indahnya Bumi Kita Ini
Warisan Berkurun Lamanya
Hasil Mengalir Ke Tangan Yang Lain
Pribumi Merintih Sendiri

Masa Depan Sungguh Kelam
Kan Lenyap Peristiwa Semalam
Tertutuplah Hati Terkunci Mati
Maruah Peribadi Dah Hilang

Kini Kita Cuma Tinggal Kuasa
Yang Akan Menentukan Bangsa
Bersatulah Hati Bersama Berbakti
Pulih Kembali Harga Diri

Kita Sudah Tiada Masa
Majulah Dengan Gagah Perkasa
Jangan Lalai Teruskan Usaha
Melayu Kan Gagah Di Nusantara

While we may have started our midnight march in a jovial mood, we were quite sombre when we reached the netball court. While we may have started singing softly and faintly in the beginning, our voices grew stronger and clearer as we neared the netball court. And I felt a spark of pride feeling in my chest growing and growing as I always do when I hear patriotic songs (like this song and this) defending the country (not those modern songs about our flag) and I knew then, as I have always known, that I would do anything and everything within my power to protect my country and I would defend it even if I die in the process.

Happy 51st year of independence, Malaysia!

On another note, we will be ushering in Ramadan on Monday. So here’s wishing everyone Ramadan Kareem and may the blessed month bring joy and light into our lives in obtaining God’s blessings and forgiveness.

Thursday Thump

In response to the defeat on Saturday, Arsenal thwarted FC Twente's efforts last night BST in their follow-up encounter at the Emirates. Samir Nasri scored the first goal after wrong-footing two defenders with a sublime turn before firing in a low shot. Gallas added the second goal after the break by slotting home the ball that rebounded from the goalie's block. Walcott got his just reward for his superb display when he curled a low shot past the goalie and Bendtner completed the rout just for good measure. Read about the match here, here and here and Wenger’s reaction here. For more pictures, go here.

The Gunners were firing at last. They thumped Twente as the latter slumped.

And here are some of the photos of the match.

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I fell on my rump with a thump this morning on the porch. The porch never was that Slippery When Wet before. A string of colourful curses pierced the fresh morning air as I picked myself up only to fall down again. A fresh string of curses picked on where I left off on this double trouble. I went in to calm myself down as was feeling weak and shaking all over like a leaf before venturing out again.

Funny (not in a ha-ha manner), I was just thinking of how hurtful it must be to those poor footie players who are tripped or fouled upon and those poor goal keepers who fly here and there while saving the ball. Now I have my question answered and not pleasantly too. But I’m sure it hurts a hell of a lot more to fall on a hard slippery porch (and twice too) than on the immaculate field at the Emirates Stadium.

Aye, I now have a bump on my rump.

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The mate I mentioned in yesterday’s post dangled an olive branch to me this morning. I refused to reply to his message and told him I wasn’t talking to him when he came over. I think I will not accept the olive branch yet and leave it dangling a bit longer before untangling our dispute.

Random Thoughts On A Rainy Evening

I firmly subscribe to the idea that we don’t stop playing because we grow old but that we grow old because we stop playing. Yes, I play pranks occasionally - not as much now as I used to regretfully - but I am aware that society frowns on what it deems childish behaviour from someone who is no longer a child. Unfortunately. Every now and then, I enjoy a good joke by playing hide-and-seek with my friends or nieces and nephew, or sometimes I hide and scare them when they pass by. I don’t see anything wrong with that as I think it’s mainly harmless and not offensive.

I do, however, take exception when people tease me or make fun of me. I truly can’t stand it and I’d react emotionally and this will just aggravate the situation further as my friends will pounce on my weakness and tease me further. I’d respond by reacting in turn and so on. Just what they want to see of course.

Yesterday, I was feeling annoyed with a mate. I usually feel irritated with him because he finds pleasure in teasing and poking me (not physically of course) – among other things, alluding I’m a Vietnamese (and let it be known that I am almost positive I don’t have any darn Vietnamese blood coursing through my veins, not that I have anything against them). He knows my weak spot and as usual, in this latest instance, attacked it mercilessly and I responded back. In my annoyance, I asked him if anyone has ever told him that he is an irksome, irritating, annoying, cocky, arrogant person. He implied I wasn’t the first person to tell him so and told me to drop the matter. I then told him that his problems are that when confronted with his weak spot, he ignores it instead of addressing it; and that when someone gives him some critique, he just brushes it off. And I couldn’t jolly well just ignore it because I was bristling inside!

He finds joy in poking me and seeing my reaction to it as he knew I would. The silly girl that I am fall for it Everytime hook, line and sinker. In my anger yesterday, I told him that if he finds pathetic pleasure in making fun of people, in irritating them, then he can just stay in that childish state of mind. Surely seeking pleasure at the expense of me is mean, if not malicious.

The difference between my idea of being playful is that I don’t intend malice on me but find joy in making people flustered. I enjoy trying to irritate people as I know only too well how annoying it is.

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I was at the KLCC Convention Centre with some colleagues some time back waiting for our transportation back to the office. We were chatting when a car pulled up and out stepped a girl with a Caucasian. The chap next to me wondered out aloud why she couldn’t settle for a nice, local lad instead of a foreigner. What was so great about Caucasians, he wondered. I decided not to say anything as I didn’t want to spoil our camaraderie spirit.

A few days ago, I was browsing through an old friend’s online album: she is married to an American and is now based there. Her children are beautiful and adorable as most children of mixed marriages are but what caught my attention were the pictures of her husband. Now, my friend is a sweet and pretty lady, has always been so, and she looks great now. Her husband, on the other hand, is bald and looks so much older than her. My other colleagues gathered to take a look and questioned her choice of husband: why settle for a foreigner when there are a lot of eligible local lads available? And strangely enough, I felt the need to defend my friend and said simply maybe she was fated to marry a foreigner. I wanted to say so much more of course.

I don’t understand why people even need to comment on something like that. Just because a girl goes out with a Caucasian or someone who is not from the same ethnic group, it doesn’t necessarily mean she rejects her roots or culture (although there are instances of that in some cases, with the local lass appearing and behaving more Caucasian-like than her partner!). Or thinks she is too good for local lads. Because there is no guarantee that a marriage with a local guy would necessarily work and instead of thinking she is too good for the local boys, she may actually be thinking that she is not good enough.

So next time, when you see someone looking a bit different, acting a bit different, having something different, please don’t judge that person immediately. And this is as much a reminder to myself as it is to all.

Nihil Desperandum

I have my fair share of life’s bad luck and misfortunes and committed some silly mistakes. Well, we all make mistakes because to err is only human. But how do we deal with these setbacks? It’s all too easy to assign the blame for whatever that goes wrong on another – the other party, your bad luck, even God – instead of assuming responsibility.

I try to own to my mistakes and take the blame for them. In fact, sometimes I think I am too hard on myself. I kick myself mentally, I scold myself repeatedly, I question my past actions and decisions, and I examined and analysed what I did wrong, where I went wrong and what I could have done to prevent them. I get angry with myself first before I succumb to despair.

But we all know (or should) that mistakes and failures and setbacks are there for one thing: to help you recognise them and address your weakness; to make you take full ownership for your action, bad decisions and misjudgements; and to try correct them. Most importantly, you should learn from them. That’s why I think and believe that it’s OK to make mistakes because mistakes and failures (even setbacks) provide vital lessons – not that you should go on making mistakes but that you should learn from them to avoid making the same mistakes twice. Also, they help us realise that we don’t and won’t always get what we want (and I learnt early on that I won’t get my way all the time), that things won’t go our way all the time (sometimes I feel like things get so bad that I wonder if they could get any worse). And I believe making mistakes doesn’t make one a failure.

True, life sucks, once in a while. But do we deal with it or be in denial? Do we face them head-on or do we run away? Do we learn from our mistakes and deal with them or do we refuse to acknowledge our part in it? Do we take control of our lives (or try to) and destiny and future or do we want to let other people control us? Do we rethink our strategies and approach to life having learnt from the mistake or do we adapt the same approach? So though I do allow myself time to wallow in despair while I kick myself mentally as I ponder over my setback, soon after I’d bounce back (OK, sometimes not that soon, or not as soon as I like but I bounce back anyway eventually. Take your time but don’t take too long.). I’d tell myself that either I learn from the bad experience and correct my mistake and move on or remain in depression. I’d tell myself that I’m a fighter, that I can do this and that I will not give up. I mean, it’s only life after all. We’ll all get through it and die one day. Whoever said that life will be a smooth-sailing rose garden anyway?

I was down and depressed the whole of yesterday and all because Arsenal lost to Fulham. That was mighty silly and foolish of Arsenal to lose so early in the season and to Fulham of all opponents too. It made me feel somewhat betrayed - that my loyalty for them was not reciprocated with a win (hey, I even sacrificed my beauty sleep to watch the match), that they didn’t try hard enough. They were playing indifferently – I think that’s the word to describe it – and only tried to salvage the match in the last 10 minutes. It also pointed to a disturbing fact: that Arsenal could be more dependent on Fàbregas more than they think they are and his absence in the past two matches have been acutely felt. Or maybe the Gunners lack more players to rotate. Sure they are a young squad but I don’t think age necessarily translate into experience or wisdom.

Fàbregas also mourns Arsenal’s defeat, as do I. *Sniff*

I try to look at it positively telling myself that if anything, it’s better that Arsenal lost early on in the season than later (like the past season). This way, they’d learn from their mistakes, they’d learn not to repeat those mistakes and finally wake up from their summer slumber. Even ManUre didn’t start their last season well. But still to lose so early on and to Fulham!!! (OK, I’m getting angry all over again). Unacceptable! It’d be better of course if they didn’t lose but hey, they didn’t play well, I’ll admit that. Wenger also acknowledged this and there’s only one route to take: bounce back.

So it’s a bitter lesson for Arsenal and a bitter result for their supporters to swallow (how I dreaded coming to work today and face the unkind, inconsiderate taunts of my colleagues. Thankfully most of them realise it’s better for them to not say anything to me) but hey, like I said, one mistake does not make one a failure. Just don’t keep doing it and don’t let the past repeat itself.

So the point is (if you haven’t already gotten it), whatever setback that befalls you (be it a failed paper, a lost opportunity at a dream job, a failed relationship), persevere. It’s OK to lament and wallow in despair but pick yourself up again, fight back and bounce back because the world loves nothing better than to see a fallen hero who fights back - and the world will cheer for him too. As long as you refuse to acknowledge your part and contribution in your mistake and blame another, you will always be a victim. Accept your shortcomings, it’s all part of humility. And I still have faith in both Arsenal and FedEx: you’ll bounce back (you’d better!). Come on Arsenal (and FedEx)!

And remember this always: Nihil Desperandum, Auspice Deo. I shall leave you with the following poetry:

NIL DESPERANDUM!
by Abdullah Quilliam

Courage brother! Do not falter,
Dry your tears and cease from sighing;
Though clouds look black, they soon may alter,
And the sun will send them flying.

‘Out of evil oft cometh good,’
Is a maxim to my liking;
The blacksmith well the iron beateth,
But ‘tis better for his striking.

Work today and give up grieving,
Know that joy is born of sorrow;
And though to-day is rainy weather,
Hap ‘twill brighter be to-morrow.

Gambling doth not make our labour
The least bit more a pleasant task;
‘Tis joyful heart that lightens trouble,
Contentment brings to those who ask.

First the childhood, then the manhood;
First the task and then the story;
‘Tis after nightfall comes the dawning,
First the shade and then the glory

Woodland Towers, Onchan
Isle of Man

23rd October 1904

Playground Lessons

Today I am going to talk briefly about my alma maters. My first alma mater has a special place in my heart as this is where my friends and I spent the bulk of our teenage lives in that then small town of Seremban. This is where I learnt about being independent, being far away from family, discipline, responsibility, time management and life in general. This is also where I made friends and cultivated friendship that remains to this day. We were having the time of our lives there (well, most of us anyway and most of the time. I hated my physical ed sessions, domestic science classes and Arabic lessons) and we were a pretty closely knit bunch.

Then when we entered our fourth year, we discovered that we would be having new fourth formers – the best-performing students from other schools – join us. ‘What? Why?’ we the thoroughbreds raged furiously on. Who decided on this? Why weren’t we consulted? What could we do to stop this? And worse still, the Social Science class which had traditionally been assigned the N letter would now be assigned the letter M. ‘Outrageous! Sacrilegious!’ we fumed hotly.

The inevitable happened. The new fourth formers (NFF) came. Some took a look at the situation and decided that befriending us was wiser. And we reciprocated albeit a little reluctantly at first until we realised they were there to stay. Of course there were those newcomers who chose to just ignore the rest of us and the rest of themselves and decided becoming bookworms were much better.

We learnt a lot of things from the NFF though it’s not easy to admit so (I’m sure they learnt a lot from us too). We learnt that we must now compete with these newcomers – in academics, sports, inter-form English dramas, inter-house dancing competitions - and work with them in inter-school debates and band competitions... it didn’t help that these newcomers were the top performers at their old schools. We sat up, took notice and bucked up, knowing that the bar had been raised. The sooner we accepted the situation, addressed it and dealt with it, the sooner we could move on. And by doing so, we weren’t stuck in the level of mediocrity that we may have fallen into had these newcomers not come into the picture. We stepped out of our comfort zone, took a long, hard look at ourselves and decided that we might as well accept the fact that they were there to stay and strive together with them in upholding the image and the excellence the institution is famed for.

All in all, I think that change brought about a change in the thoroughbreds (OK, there were still those lazy bummers who couldn’t be bothered to change. Well, that kind of people are everywhere anyway).

This Used To Be My Playground. Pictures googled and nicked from an old friend’s album

After O-Level, I then went on to do A-Level at a local college. We were a mixed bunch of people from all kind of backgrounds, ethnicity, income levels and religions but we got along well and we performed well too if I may say so myself. But there was another group of MARA students who were all Malays and, boy, I can seriously say they were not an inspired lot, what more hardworking. Subsequently I went to England to pursue my degree and returned there a few years later for my Master’s degree - and needless to say, of course over there one needs to compete with everyone from around the world, all types of backgrounds and religions.

So it was with some kind of surprise, despair and dismay that I discover about the protests by the UiTM students over the proposal for a 10% intake of non-Bumiputeras into UiTM. Seriously, if you can’t even compete with non-Bumiputeras at school, what are the chances of competing or integrating at the workplace? How do you expect them to compete regionally or internationally if they can’t even compete locally with other races? How do you ensure that these students’ minds evolve when they can’t even begin to consider the proposal without being emotional about it? How do you get them to be visionary, far-sighted, mentally matured and open-minded – after 51 years of independence, no less - when they can’t even view the suggestion with an open mind? Heck, there are even people in the office who were also up in arms about the proposal, so what do you expect from the students who could be easily their children (I know for a fact that at some UiTM campuses, the students were actually being called to have their protests)? Why is there even a need to politicise the subject when we know there are as many low- and middle-income non-Malays as there are Malays? How would we feel if a neighbouring country prohibits Malays from entering their universities? And if the US implements single-race universities, some only for coloured people and some only for white, I’m sure we will accuse them of racism.

Besides, I doubt that it is prescribed anywhere in the Constitution that the student composition at UiTM is part of the Malay special rights (I stand corrected).

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I was so happy to receive a friend request from an old playground mate: we’ve lost touch since our graduation. We used to chat in between our work assignments on various topics: clothes, fashion, travelling. He (yes, it’s a he and he does shop!) is one of the nicest English blokes around who didn’t care about my funny accent among other things. Maybe it’s because he himself is married to a Russian and hence is able to look beyond skin colour, background, creed, ethnicity and religion.