Love Takes Time

I had it all
But I let it slip away
Couldn't see that I treated you wrong
Now I wander around
Feeling down and cold
Trying to believe that you're gone

Chorus:
Love takes time
To heal when you're hurting so much
Couldn't see that I was blind
To let you go
I can't escape the pain
Inside
Love takes time
I don't wanna be here alone

Losing my mind
From this hollow in my heart
Suddenly I'm so incomplete
Lord, I'm needing you now
Tell me how to stop the rain
Tears are falling down endlessly

Chorus

You might say that it's over
You might say that you don't care
You might say you don't miss me
You don't need me
But I know that you do and I feel that you do
Inside

Chorus

~~~~~~~~

Yes, Love Takes Time. I need time to heal, time to recuperate. After all, even nature takes her time too. Diamonds take ages to form and great majestic oaks don’t become great overnight. Everything of value, of beauty, of majesty in the universe took time to become so.

I can’t, in my attempt to heal, form a relationship with someone else. Not only is it too soon, it also wouldn’t be fair to me, to him and especially not to the new person. I wouldn’t have liked it myself if someone seeks my company in his attempt to get over someone. That would be ultimately unflattering, and to a certain extent, downright humiliating. Hence, it is not right, for me at least, to jump from one relationship to another much like on a rebound and besides, no one would be too thrilled to fill in the shoes for anyone on the rebound anyway. There are various other ways to numb the pain and desensitise the hurt – like reading the noble Quran, rebonding with family and friends and appreciating nature.

No, it wouldn’t be right for me to develop a new relationship so soon. Because love takes time to heal when you’re hurting so much. Because I have too much respect, love, care and affection for him still than to shove him out of my mind as if he never mattered or existed – surely three years invested into a relationship cannot be erased just like that. Because I simply can’t fall in and out of love that easily. Because most of the time, nothing is what it seems.

Oh, what is love? Love, I read, is courage. For it takes a lot of courage to say ‘I’m scared’, ‘I love you’ and ‘I miss you’. Love is respect, for ourselves and others. Telling another person ‘I love you’ can be a risky business but hey, to gain anything, we must risk. Life itself is a risk. And great love and great achievements involve great risk.

~~~

When I was growing up and full of romantic ideas and hopes for love, I had this Fantasy of meeting my own Prince Charming (little did I know it’d be such an effort!). I want to be rescued like Cinderella from the harshness of life; I want to be saved like Rapunzel; I want to be found like Sleeping Beauty... [blame those fairytales if you must!] and we’d be married after overcoming all the trials and tribulations (and that make it a lot sweeter and worthwhile, having overcome all those trials together). And after a few years of wedded bliss, we’d start our own little family. In my Fantasy, I only wanted a pair of children with the boy preferably being the first-born [don’t ask me why but that’s always the case in my Fantasy]. I didn’t want to be greedy and ask for too many children, I just wanted a pair of them and I’d feel blessed enough. I even have a ready name for my unborn son!

But as the years progress and I find myself advancing in age, my fantasy little by little evaporated. Until I become scared altogether about ever having children. Because I still fantasise about enjoying a few years of wedded bliss/extended honeymoon period with my husband first before starting a family [because once you start, your lives will change forever], the later I get married means the more riskier it’d be not only for me but especially for my foetus. And I don’t know if I can handle it if my child is born deformed or suffering from Down’s Syndrome because I have him/her too late in life.

I always believe in being open and sincere in my thoughts and fears and told this to my boyfriend; not so much because I don’t want my own child(ren) from my own flesh and blood but because I was afraid I could not, may not, be able to accept them if they are born with problems. I don’t know if I can face such tests from God, if I’m strong enough to face such circumstances.

And so while I don’t yet know if I can be a good mother (or if I’m becoming less maternal as the years go by), what I do know and have no fear or qualms or doubts about is to be a good, loyal, pious wife, lover, companion, confidante, friend etc, to a man I call my husband and whom I’m privileged enough to spend the rest of my life with. Because all I ever want at the end of the day is -

- to share the rest of my life with someone whom I love and who loves me in return
- to love and be loved
- to care and be cared
- to hug and be hugged
- to protect and be protected
- to pamper and be pampered
- to understand and be understood
- to complement and be complemented
- to share not only joy, laughter and happiness together with each other, but also our deepest fears and doubts...

... and so much more.

I don’t want to pretend or fake self-sufficiency about being strong, about not needing someone, because I do need love [yes, I do]. Everyone does.

~~~

I have made so many mistakes in my life. But you know, I read that mistakes are messages communicated to you by God. Mistakes are feedback on how we fare. Winners actually make far more mistakes than losers; that’s why they are winners [think of Edison and Colonel Sanders]. They get more feedback as they continue to try more possibilities.

And, yes, we learn far more form our losses that our victories. When we lose, we contemplate, we analyse, we regroup, we strategise. When we win, we simply celebrate and learn very little. When you lose, don't lose the lesson. Hence, there is a reason to welcome errors and mistakes. Mistakes are part of the learning process; how else do you learn if not from your mistakes? The shame is never in having failed; the shame is only in not having tried and given it your best.

It is important to separate your behaviour from yourself – your behaviour is not connected to your self-worth. So if you do something silly, it doesn’t make you a bad person. You simply make a mistake [love the sinner, hate the sin]. It’s like hitting another car when you’re driving – it’s a mistake but it doesn’t make you a mean person. And so yes, I have made my own share of mistakes. And so has everyone else. We are allowed to make mistakes, we’re only human. And most of the time, nothing is what it seems. You just have to understand the mistake and help the person correct himself.

And pain is not always a negative force and not something you should always hate. At times, a person benefits when he feels pain. As Muslims, when you’re feeling a lot of pain, you sincerely supplicate and remember God. It may be that one becomes stronger through pain and suffering. And to live with a burning and passionate heart that has been stung is purer and nobler than to live the dispassionate existence of a person who has a cold heart and a short-sighted outlook. So, even though it took me a while to realise it, I thank you God for all the mistakes and pain and suffering for otherwise I wouldn’t have known/learnt where I went wrong.

~~~~~~~~

I'm such a sucker for romantic stuff. Serendipidity was aired last night. Brilliant movie. And a very cute hero and beautiful heroine too.

~~~~~~~~

This rather long posting is likely my last for this year. Wishing everyone a blessed Eid Mubarak and Happy New Year 2007. Please make prayers to all pilgrims in the Holy Land.

The Last Goodbye

One of my aunts passed away yesterday morning. She was warded at HUKM. I didn't know she had been admitted there – my parents and sister always manage to keep certain things away from me [or is it that I somehow manage not to know certain things?]. She was earlier at SJMC but despite being warded twice, they somehow could not detect what was wrong with her. I simply could not understand how they managed to keep her hospitalised for over 15 days and yet not managed to find the root cause of her illness.

So I took half-day leave to pay my last respects to her. Met up with Abah and he drove us to my cousin’s place in Shah Alam. It seemed like forever before we finally got there. We left for a nearby mosque almost immediately though. I recited the Yassin for her and offered some prayers.

I got a final look at her when she was being wrapped gently with cotton before the white kapan cloth. That was the first time I ever saw a body ‘being prepared’ [sorry for the lack of a better word] – well, that’s for being the youngest granddaughter who never had the privelege of meeting any of her grandparents alive - so I was not prepared and was in a bit of a shock. I stood there silently taking in the rituals and as inappropriate as it may seem, this thought actually crossed my mind then, ‘Oh God, I can’t stay or go closer because I may have nightmares later of dying myself,’ [although now that I think about it, I remember dreaming of my own death and somehow floating above as I watched my family bury me]. I silently bade her farewell before leaving the room.

She was laid to rest at Shah Alam itself, which is quite a relief; otherwise they’d have to transport her body back to JB.

It made me wonder, this person was alive a mere few hours before but now God has called upon her - and she was scheduled to have a check/scope done today too. And no one had any inkling that the angel of death was hovering near her, yes, she was not doing too well but no one expected her to leave so soon. Because, I suppose, no matter how much thought you’ve given to it, no one is ever prepared for death. Oh yes, death is certain but it’s always comforting to push it to the back of one’s mind. Oh, there were little signs of course like when she told her daughter that she dreamt of her late mother [my late grandmother] one night and how much she insisted on meeting my cousin during Eid, who is a dead ringer for my late uncle.

My aunt is one of the two aunts who took care of Akak and I when Abah and Mummy first went to perform Haj way back when [the other aunt is the (once) battered wife of a policeman]. She was in the teaching line and was quite strict with her six children, yes, wayyy stricter than Abah and Mummy ever were/are to us.

I remember going to their place in JB when we were small during holidays. Because there were a few of us kids, we’d all spend the night in the hall, sleeping on mattresses. That was fun. The visits, however, lessened over time until we only saw each other only once a year, if at all, during Eid. And the last time I met and talked to her was on 1 Syawal this year and she was already looking tired and weak then.

Akak told me that when she went to visit my aunt on Sunday, she said that she just couldn't wait to have the check done on her so that she could learn what was wrong with her. It turned out that it was my uncle's birthday on Sunday and as everyone wished him, she turned to her husband and wished him and also apologised that she could not get him any birthday present this year. I felt sad when I heard that. She was dying and yet she could still apologise for not being able to get her husband any birthday present?

And now she is gone. And there are only three ladies left in that family – my other aunt [Mummy’s elder aunt who's married to a policeman], Mummy and my youngest aunt.

I remember thinking that life is so fragile. And that this world is just a transition to another world. And hence, we should leave life to the fullest in the best way we know because we owe ourselves that much.

Goodbye, Mak Rah. I pray that you will be placed among those pious and blessed. Al-Fatihah.

Love Hurts

Someone recently emailed me the following:

~~~

There was a study done where a control group of 100 people were divided into two.

50 people watched a very funny, tears-of-laughter type movie.

50 watched a very sad and tears of compassion type movie.

At the end of the sessions researchers collected the ‘happy tears’ and the ‘sad tears’ with eye droppers.

They found that ‘happy tears’ are made up of brine... salt water and not a great deal else.

However the ‘sad tears’ were found to contain the very same chemicals and enzymes that are found tumours, ulcers and other such lumps and bumps and sicknesses through out the body.

This test concluded that the body, when crying in sadness etc is literally flushing out all of the toxic-chemicals that accumulate and are a part of the sadness /heartache experience.

Therefore if one holds back those tears, those toxic-waters will find somewhere else to deposit themselves.

And prolonged lack-of-crying-release will guarantee that the body will accumulate a huge amount of internal pollution and toxicity that should have been released through the tears...

Is it any wonder that the eyes sting so much when we hold back our tears?

LESSON FROM THE STUDY: CRY YOUR HEART OUT WHEN YOU ARE SAD, LONELY, ALONE, DEPRESSED, ETC.

IT IS GOOD FOR YOUR HEALTH!

~~~

I'm not sure how far true the above is but I don't believe in bottling my feelings inside. And, mind you, crying is not a sign of weakness because as Madonna sings it, It takes more strength to cry, admit defeat... I find myself crying every now and then but often of late. Yesterday, as I was preparing dinner, I turned on the radio and then one song came up. And as I listened to the lyrics, I just broke down and cried and sobbed my heart out. I have done so much wrong. I hope God will forgive me. I guess it’s true what they say about hurting the one you love the most. Oh, Why, Why, Why does love hurt so bad?

But surely, love is all about forgiveness too? And the tagline to Love Story is the following famous quote: 'Love means never having to say you're sorry.'

I found the following from the Net:

~~~

Love is a good thing, and it sure hurts, because those involved are human beings and have their own weaknesses, and as long as they have their own distinct personalities, they'll always hurt each other. They may not always mean to, but there'll always be clashes along the way, and that's how you test love. If after all that, you both rise back up and stay strong, you know your love will stand the test of time. Imagine the greatest love of all, God's love for us, yet, knowing all He's done for us, we still go ahead and hurt Him, not like we want to, but we're who we are! We're just wired that way, but despite it all, He loves us.

Also Love unveils our vulnerability because it comes with feelings you tend to forget that slowly you are peeling off every layer. It’s not something you can do to yourself because loving yourself is different than someone loving you.

And so it’s easier to just involuntarily hit back, to fail or do anything that reminds you that you are not really worth this attention because we have all at least once in our lifetime been hurt. We just build extra layers so as not to be vulnerable. Or like someone said we take each other for granted. Love is a walk you have to do it everyday and sometimes you just (like when you riding a horse) ease up on the ropes.

Love will hurt, because for it to be Love, it has to get close enough for you to feel it. The fact that it hurts doesn't mean it’s not 100% positive.

But the most important thing is that Love always hopes.

~~~

How true. How very true. Please forgive me for all the pain, hurt and anguish I caused you.

You always hurt the one you love
The one you shouldn't hurt at all
You always take the sweetest rose
And crush it till the petals fall
You always break the kindest heart
With a hasty word you can't recall
So if I broke your heart last night
It's because I love you most of all

Live To Tell

She is a housewife but not by choice. She has a degree from a university in the US but did not pursue her Master as the acceptance letter came just as she and husband were about to leave Uncle Sam for good. She confided that her father-in-law is adamant that women should just stay at home and become homemakers and good housewives. Pretty conservative belief, I suppose. The husband is now a professor at a local varsity.

I just found out recently that she once confided in a colleague that she was abused by her husband. I suppose that meant physical abuse and maybe also verbal and emotional abuse. My colleague told me the lady was not allowed to mix with the neighbours either and when my colleague met her many years ago, she was all covered up. Now that I think of it, it may be to cover her bruises.

She is my neighbour.

I have seen the husband but he looks nice and kind. But then again, who would have guessed what lurks beneath that exterior. I have not really met her – yes, after all this time. I have seen her from my bedroom window but that’s about it. Perhaps she is still banned from mixing with the neighbours.

~~~

She was first married to a no-good asshole. When she got married, she lost touch with her family. She worked hard to support the family because the asshole of a husband didn’t work or didn’t have much of a job. To top it, he was a brutal bully who abused her silly. Her then three-year old son once tried to shield her from his attacks. What a bastard.

She thought she was the only wife. Until one day, when the husband met with an accident and was hospitalised. That was when she met another lady who turned out to share the same husband. Yes, that was when she discovered that she was a party in a polygamous marriage. And I heard there may be other wives too.

She is my youngest aunt, my mother’s younger sister.

She had since gotten a divorce and re-married and returned to the family circle. And now she is the second wife but they look happy. My cousin looks happy too. And I suppose that is enough.

~~~

She has been married to the same man for more than 40 years now. The husband was a policeman and though I don’t want to generalise, he was [and perhaps still is] a brutal man who subjected her to abuses. She quitted her job early on in the marriage and hence could not just walk out of the marriage [besides it was unheard of in those days] with three young children. So she stayed on in the marriage.

They are still married. To the best of my knowledge, he is still the same. He still has a bad temper only slightly tempered mild over time. I’m not sure whether he has finally embraced the Islamic way of life. She is the total opposite of him – she probably finds solace in religion [she performed her Haj together with my parents many years ago because he refused to go].

She is my aunt, elder sister to my mother.

~~~

She didn’t want to get married. She wanted to just stay single. He was a widower with children from the first marriage. He proposed to her, at least twice, but she didn’t want to consider. She didn’t want to be saddled with the problems, headaches and heartaches of raising stepchildren.

He almost gave up hope but being a man with religious background, he continued to pray. Until one night, he dreamed that her much elder sister [who was also single] spoke to him in his dream to be patient if he still wanted her.

Circumstances dictated otherwise for her as her elder sister, suddenly passed away. And after listening to the advices from her other sisters, she finally agreed to his proposal.

She is my mother.

They are still happily married. Oh, there were [and sometimes still are] the problems as one would expect from a family with two sets of children from different wives. She often tells me how lucky and thankful she is to have married my father. Because he is a good man who doesn’t subject her to any kind of abuse, be it emotional, mental, physical or verbal. He is kind and generous and provides for her, within his means of course.

I am envious of them.

~~~

She is the eldest of nine siblings. She is a good daughter and as the eldest, helped out in supporting her younger siblings as they were growing up.

She was unlucky in love. She watched from the sidelines as all her younger siblings tied the knot one by one. As most first-born, she was patient and masked her feelings well.

Then one Sunday, she was invited to go to her boss’ place. She went, thinking it was duty call. And so she was most surprised when there was a prominent person also in attendance, who happens to be a good friend to her boss, who asked her hand in marriage on behalf of the boss.

She is my cousin.

She is now married to a titled person, finally, at the age of 48.

~~~

She still hurts from her past failed relationships. That is wrong because she should just forgive and move on. She has done that but the memories of the past still haunt her. To protect herself, she remains aloof and pretends indifference but deep down she cares. And she wonders what it is that is wrong with her that the male population shies away from her.

She had been proposed to before but didn’t consider it as she was getting over someone and didn’t think it fair for her to consider it then. Besides, they were hardly a couple. And a mere three months later, just as she thought she should maybe just take the chance, he announced that he had met someone else. She wished him well.

She met someone else after that but he turned out to just want to play with her heart. It took a long time for her to get over him because she didn’t want to lose hope and faith that he may have a change of heart and she also hoped for divine intervention. Finally, after a few years, she decided to just forget about it and him.

She met someone else after that and developed feelings for him but because she wanted to protect her heart, she never told him how she felt. Also, she was afraid that things might not work out between them. So instead of focussing and working on why and how the relationship could work, she worried instead of why it would not work.

She had issues at her work place - she really couldn’t cope well with stress and pressure so much that it affected her health, menstrual cycle and, to some extent, mental state. She pushed him away and this time, she pushed him too far.

I am that girl. And when I had love a mere five months ago, I no longer have it five months later.

~~~

My BigBoss just recently told me to ‘remember and forgive’ [because if you forget, you may forget the lesson]. I actually went to see him before he became my BigBoss to discuss the future direction of my career and he still remembers that meeting of course [seeing it was only a couple of months back]. So he called me into his room on Monday to discuss work and after that, to offer me some kind words of advice. I was really touched. He even said, ‘If you have any problems that you want to tell me...’ and I swallowed and replied, feeling almost close to tears, ‘No. Not yet,’ and after that I admitted that when I first met him, I was having personal problems too in addition to work-related problems. I don’t think I’d take up on his offer and burden him with my problems though; I’m sure he has enough of his own. But it was very nice, sweet, kind and thoughtful of him to offer me counsel and I can’t imagine my previous BigBoss doing the same.

I do not envy the situations of the ladies I have listed earlier, save for my mum. And while I am very happy for my cousin for finally finding her jodoh, I do not wish to be married at 48 myself. But I suppose it did work out well for her eventually. Still, I think staying single is still much better and preferable than being trapped in a miserable marriage and be subjected to emotional, mental, physical and verbal abuses.

We all have our own tale to tell.

The Treasure Hunt Weekend

Saturday didn’t start off well.

My mates left late [they earlier promised to pick me up] so I had to make my own way to the workplace, yes, with my luggage and bag containing dictionary and food. Grrr... and as luck would have it, there were no cab in sight – where was one when you needed one? When I don’t have the need for them, they usually zoom by and some actually slow down and even stop to ask if I need their service. Then I saw a bus coming and hailed it. And what do you know, the bus broke down near the Parliament. Tried calling my mates but got through the voicemail instead and the other didn’t answer. I even contemplated going down but with my heavy-duty stuff, I’d probably faint by the time I walk a hundred metres. Grrr grrr...

The driver and conductor somehow managed to fix the problem later and got the bus moving. By the time I reached workplace, I was in a fine temper... especially since my mates were nowhere to be found – that despite having told them to wait for me so I could load my stuff into the car. Grrr grrr grrr...

There were 80 participating cars altogether and because my mates were late in arriving, we were among the last to be flagged off. But each car was allocated 8.5 hours so it really didn’t and shouldn’t matter much. But this time around, we were in a Savvy [rather than a Chevy!] so gaining some ground would definitely be helpful. Oh, btw, we discovered much later that evening as the organiser went through the answers that there was a phantom car, i.e. a car that didn’t register to participate in the hunt and yet was there, helping some team. Some people are just sneaky and would go to any length to win, I suppose. But that’s definitely not fair play.

But the day turned out better as it progressed. Oh, the inevitable usual shouting, arguing, bickering and hollering at each other ensued of course as we played devil’s advocate to each other in determining that we had taken the right route, answered the questions correctly and guessed the treasure rightly [actually, I prefer that than being in a quiet car where everyone just keeps to himself/herself]. Feeling hungry and tired didn’t help any but we just couldn't afford to stop for food. Oh, yours truly was the navigator for the day [and for previous hunts too!]

We spent wayyy too long at Seri Kembangan area and Finally, I told my mates to just leave. They agreed, reasoning that two points ain’t worth the time we spent. So we drove on, heading towards Seremban, and all along the way thinking out aloud, discussing, arguing and evaluating the potential possible treasures that we had to buy and furnish at the finish line.

From Seremban, we drove on to Kulai and we got caught in a bottleneck – there were some road-works and we started getting panicky as we still had quite a few questions left to answer, yet to buy any treasures, and it was raining cats and dogs too. And the drawback of using a small car is that just as we thought we were gaining speed, suddenly we had other competitors overtaking us, and at breakneck speed too. Just as we were starting to get comfortable thinking we were leading our partner team, they zoomed past us – yes, in the brand new Beemer – and we could just watched them in silence with our jaws dropped until the Beemer became a smaller and smaller speck on the horizon and we could see them no more. It took us a while before we found our tongues again and remarked, ‘Wow, that was done without much effort,’ and ‘Whaddya mean, without much effort? That was effortless driving!’. Not a very funny situation to be in actually when you’re being overtaken and have your lead being reduced and feeling like you’d just been chopped like vegetables [on the other hand, it was such a joyous feeling to be catching up with a competitor team - driving in MyVi who sped past us like some crazy, deranged, possessed team - at the toll plaza as they didn’t have Touch ‘N Go].

So we quickly re-strategised and decided that when we finally exited the highway, we should just cruise along the route quickly and not even bother to get down from the car to look for clues/answers to save time. To be honest, I think we did pretty alright, just sitting there in the compact car, looking all around and stretching our necks about. But we eventually had to buy the treasures anyway and my friend and I were running here, there and everywhere, crossing the road like some mad, headless chicken.

Traffic got heavier as we neared JB and it was a good thing we didn’t miss any turning – some teams missed some vital turnings and this resulted in them arriving late. Now, there is a penalty imposed for every five minutes or part thereof if you arrive after the 8.5 hours allocated. And if you arrive beyond 30 minutes, your team would be disqualified... I heard one team [which is renowned for their treasure hunting prowess] got disqualified.

There was a traffic jam going into the hotel lobby and I [yes, me again!] ran out of the car all the way to the lobby all hungry and breathless and exhausted. For that effort [and me nowhere being fit], our team managed to reach the check-in counter with a minute to spare - this had never happened, usually we'd be busting the time limit and incurring penalty! Talk about reaching the finish line by the skin of our teeth!

We had to do a mission a la The Amazing Race after that [no rest for the weary yet!]. After that, we decided to go for a well-deserved meal at Danga Bay. It was pouring again then but we were too famished to care.

Dinner was held at an adjoining building and after the inevitable speech, we helped ourselves [ladies first!]. Results were only announced after 10 pm or so. Well, there were 80 cars altogether so you can just imagine the organiser having to sift through 80 answer sheets before determining the winners. To my surprise, there were prizes until the 17th spot. As they began announcing the winners from 17th to 11th spots, I got pretty confident we'd get top 10 [our team deteriorated to no. 11 last year from no. 6 previously so it’d definitely be a boost factor if we improved not only last year’s placing but also maintained or improved our placing two years ago].

10th up to 6th place winners were announced and yet they hadn’t called our team. A novice mate [we just recently recruited him to join our team] was already feeling pessimistic but the driver and I were confident as we basically knew how many answers we got wrong. When the 3rd place winner was announced, I got really excited and whispered to my driver friend, ‘If we got first place, I’d really scream the place down!’

It turned out that there was a tie in points for 2nd and 1st place winners. So they called us two teams up on stage. Unfortunately for us, they had to decide somehow and we were tied in every way: no penalties incurred, the exact number of treasures submitted, the marks scored for the mission, which all resulted in the tie in points. But a decision had to be made somehow and because our team made our very first mistake as early as at question 4 [yes, the one at Seri Kembangan], we had to settle as runners-up. But hey, that’s like the best placing we’ve ever attained in our short treasure hunt history together... ! Since we formed an alliance with another team, we decided to split our winnings together [as we did previously].

Sunday Morning, after breakfast, we checked out and made our way back to KL. We made stops at Batu Pahat for its famed Biryani Gam and then at Muar [at my mate’s parents’ place]. Alas, it was getting late so we didn’t stop for the famed Mee Bandung Muar after all ;( but drove on to Ayer Keroh for another brief stop. It was 7.30 pm when we reached the work place and 7.50 pm when I finally got home, knackered and famished.

Moral of the story: actually it doesn’t matter what car you drive for a treasure hunt [as long as it’s not a two-door car like Satria and not too small that it can’t gain speed. Because even our partner team was late and got penalised even though they were in a Beemer; actually quite a few cars were late and got penalised and we didn't despite being in a Savvy!]. And have like-minded individuals in your team please or it’ll be a miserable journey. Oh, and have a good navigator too ;) who can also double up as treasure buyer, among other things [oh yes, I was bullied alright].

~~~~~~~~

It’s hard, for me at least, to be enthusiastic about work at this time of the year. They should just outlaw working in December. Oh, and January too. I can’t wait for the year to end yet January is Always a chore – all that planning for the year’s projects, the targets to be reached, and you are supposed to be all geared up and enthusiastic about work. After all, it is supposed to be a brand new year. New ambitions, new resolve to work, new energies... what a lot of bull! Same employee, same work [some carried over from previous year], same lousy pay...

Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe I don’t feel happy or contented about work anymore. Maybe I no longer feel like I care about this field I’m in. Maybe I need a change, of career, of bosses, of work scope... and I can’t even contemplate discussing this frustration with work with my parents. Because I know what Abah would say, that he loved his job and his career; that he looked forward to going to work every day when he was still working; that he hardly ever took a day off for leave or even sick leave unless he was really ill. He’d frown upon me having frustration with work, being disillusioned that this is I want to do and where I should be for the rest of my life, and having second thoughts about staying on. And Mummy would point out that the grass is not necessarily greener on the other side and it'd probably be the same anywhere else. But Sometimes it feels like I’m just here for the dough. And I feel it’s time I do something I really love and be passionate about rather than going through the motions.

But I’m too chicken shit to take the risk into the great unknown. How long can I survive on my paltry savings? As it is, I give my parents a monthly allowance and I can’t simply stop that. Maybe for a month or two, I could, but not for long. I have to sustain myself too [and I am high-maintenance - not that that's wrong or anything]. And you need loads of dosh before venturing into something, just in case things don’t work out, a Plan B [or even a Plan C]. I’m not some legally kept girl who can just quit my job as and when I fancy it and lead a life of leisure.

And the thing is, being in this job for some time makes one feels complacent. And I wonder about my marketability. I’m also not mobile and highly dependent on public transportation and rides from considerate colleagues. So yes, the outside world is a big, scary place. But I don’t want it to be such that I suddenly tender my resignation on a 24-hour notice because I can no longer cope or stand or be arsed about my job. And that would be a shame too because a 24-hour notice means that I would not be paid for that month as compensation to the organisation... but to tender your resignation three months in advance would (normally) mean you have somehow secured another job first. Hmmm, decision, decision...

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On another note, we got a new King today! And he’s young and handsome too! Long live the King!

Strong Enough

God, I feel like hell tonight
Tears of rage I cannot fight
I’d be the last to help you understand
Are you strong enough to be my man?

Nothing’s true and nothing’s right
So let me be alone tonight
Cause you can’t change the way I am
Are you strong enough to be my man?

Lie to me
I promise I’ll believe
Lie to me
But please don’t leave

I have a face I cannot show
I make the rules up as I go
It’s try and love me if you can
Are you strong enough to be my man?

When I’ve shown you that I just don’t care
When I’m throwing punches in the air
When I’m broken down and I can’t stand
Will you be strong enough to be my man?

Lie to me
I promise I’ll believe
Lie to me
But please don’t leave

Lost in Transition (And Feeling Like A Lost Little Girl)

I started moving bits and pieces of my belongings about – all those annual reports, seminar and course materials, personal stuff [which I treasure above the rest!], stationeries, shoes [oh yes], even brollies… from last Friday. Thursday evening was spent shaking my head in disbelief at the sheer amount of rubbish I’ve managed to accumulate over the past four years and slowly tackling them – identifying those to be shredded, those that can’t be shredded went immediately into the black plastic bag [I do sympathise with the cleaner who has to clear our excess baggage of rubbish, I do!]. I decided against recycling any paper as I didn't want to risk compromising secrecy [yes, I do feel bad about those trees]. The shredder had decided to quit working too during Thursday lunchtime itself.

I suppose I should be thankful that my move is within the same building a few floors up and not to a different block/building/location/premises altogether. It makes me wonder how those due to retire or resign feel – or maybe they don’t feel anything but joy at leaving this organisation for greener pastures. My friend told me to apply this rule: throw away anything that you haven’t used for more than a year. OK, she has a point but I still find myself mulling, ‘Do I still need this?’, ‘Will this come in handy in the future?’ and to be on the safe side, it’s always tempting to just pack everything, well, just in case.

Thus far, this new floor has not yet has me feeling enthusiastic at all, but there you have it, there’s no Undo button like in Word/Excel/PowerPoint documents, no U-turns allowed, so we’ll just have to trudge down this road to the unknown. Unlike the previous relocations we have had to endure in the past, this is entirely different as we will now be subsumed into various new departments. Yes, that means we will not see familiar faces that often anymore. It’s having to make new friends, learning totally new subject matters altogether, adapting to new office culture and environment, yes, a conscious effort to push oneself out from one’s comfort zone. I don’t know how long it will take me to feel totally at ease in the new work-land but like it or not, I’ll have to weather it, just like everyone else. And maybe, who knows, just maybe, I can really get along with new people as they will with me [OK, that just crossed my mind; I didn’t think that people may have problems adapting to me before. Perhaps I come across as snobbish, unfriendly, aloof, fierce, intimidating, to some people. Gosh!].

My first few minutes here were a bit unnerving. I felt like I want to hold someone’s hand all the time. Silly really. I was happy and enthusiastic to start primary school when other kids were crying and bawling their eyes out [maybe that was also ‘cause I didn’t go to kindergarten so I was eager to start school and make new friends]. I was happy when I went to boarding school despite staying there for five whole years [I had this romantic idea of boarding school from reading those Enid Blyton books!]. Then it changed - I was nervous and scared when I first flew out on my own to England but I had no choice but to continue my journey alone, from Heathrow Terminal 3 to Terminal 1 for my domestic flight to Manchester and from Manchester, cabbing it Alone to my university because I simply couldn't take the train, not with my heavy luggage. I was scared when I first reported myself to work. I wasn’t as scared when I went to do my Master though. But now, I am scared [I wasn’t all that scared when I went to the Police station to make my police report two weeks ago, but even then, I needed someone with me to literally hold my hands]. Now I feel like holding on tight to someone’s hands, just as I used to do with my parents when I was a girl.

When I was a little girl, I held my parents’ hands a lot. When we walked, they held my hands. When we crossed the road, they held my hands tightly and helped me cross. They made me feel safe, secure and protected from the big, bad world, and I felt like nothing could hurt me. I just wish I could hold their hands forever [OK, I still hold their hands when we walk and cross the road but now we guide each other and make sure the other is all right - instead of them just guiding me and making sure I was all right previously]. As I grow older and stayed farther and further away from home, I started developing homesickness. And I felt especially homesick when faced with academic-related problems, when I felt down or thought I was in trouble. I even felt homesick when I was sitting for exams during my Master even though I was hardly a little girl. I was also homesick when I was in India back in August, all Alone in my hotel room. Well, I feel homesick now [and I am living away from home]. I feel Lost. I’m no longer a little girl but I feel Lost.

Yes, Lost, not just in this new work-land but also in life. Even though I can read maps quite well for a girl, unfortunately, there’s no life roadmap I can read.