As I Lay Me Down

I found myself humming the following this morning as I waited for the bus to whisk me off to The Office:

It felt like springtime on this February morning
In the courtyard birds were singing your praise

Indeed, it does feel like springtime Sometimes in this tropical weather especially in the mornings. And because the sun rises late this time of the year such that it is still dark at 7.20 am [!], it even feels like winter too sometimes, minus the freezing cold of course! And outside my kitchen window, I can see these leafless branches of a tree, just like those trees in the cold climate countries that shed their leaves in autumn.

But of course, come noon time and you’re reminded that, heck, it’s scorching out there!!!

Thus far, the day has been anything but a springtime day. Meetings after meetings and in between, I have to consolidate an ad hoc piece of work, which deadline is tomorrow. And oh, I got a new portfolio assigned to me today too. As if my current work portfolio isn’t already the bane of my office existence. Oh joy.

Now if you will excuse me, I need to jump out of the office window.

Monetary Problems Of The Common People

I come from a humble family – no fancy titles to our names, no connection to any influential people, no blue blood, just your average normal family - where Abah was the sole income earner for the extended family. Growing up, money was not and never something to be taken for granted and we were and always are reminded of the importance of money. Don’t get me wrong; awareness of the value of money does not make us worship money. We are no slaves to the so-called root of all evil but we understand the value of money because like it or not, in this increasingly capitalist world, money is sought-after and almost always synonymous with power, prestige and position. And besides, when you have parents who grew up during WWII, you just know money is not something to be taken for granted and resources are not meant to be wasted. Ever.

Money is a factor used to weigh between a purchase or a non-purchase, an investment or saving. But when it comes to education or paying zakat, it is not and never an issue. Times were tough especially when there was only one solo breadwinner with a family to support and all the children were in school.

OK, I did understand the value of money but I also longed for material stuff. And when I should have been careful with money, I was a spendthrift especially during my pre-varsity days. And OK, so my parents did indulge me from time to time. Now that I’m earning my own income, I understand better how tough it is to earn your own dough. That’s why I don’t understand why some people look down on other people who work thankless jobs like the labourers and those who work as garbage collectors. And that’s also why I cannot stand it when I see people sitting by idle and begging for money when they could work. Or choosing the easier and less strenuous work while leaving the hard strenuous work for the foreign workers.

Anyway, here’s how it has always been for me: I never, ever, sold whatever foreign currencies I have left back to the moneychanger or anyone else. I don’t normally have much left anyway and besides why sell at a miserable loss? I’d rather hold on to them, telling myself there may be an off chance that I’ll visit that place again in the future. Especially if the currencies involved are Euros, pound sterling or the greenback. It’s better to have some in hand especially if you suddenly want to ask someone to buy something that is priced lower abroad. And it’s nice to know that the currencies you have appreciate in value. And if they devalue, well, there will come a time when they will appreciate again surely.

Times change [OK, that line reminds me of one of those Celcom ads]. As do circumstances.

I’m so skint, I’m now considering selling some of my foreign currencies to my colleagues...

I’m so skint that I have to watch even more carefully what I spend on.

How did I get into this mess, you may ask.

Good question.

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My credit card bill for this month will no doubt be Larger Than Life. I’m sure I’m not a good customer to my credit card company as I pay my bill on time ‘cause I don’'t think it’s sensible to pay interest [that’s all credit card providers are interested in, profiting from the interests owed to them]. And yet, they have increased my credit card limit without me realising and requesting for it. There was a time in the not so distant past when I was similarly broke and had to resort to borrowing and also asking my credit card company for a temporary increase in my credit limit as I was at risk of busting it already. They have since increased my credit limit twice without me even asking for it.

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I’m having a headache now and it’s probably something I brought upon myself. Woke up at midnight to watch the young Gunners play Chelshit and as we know, the young Gunners didn’t manage to trample Stamford Bridge down. Hmph!

Adek's Circle of Friends

My best, closest and good mates are those friends I had the good fortune and luck to meet and befriend many, many years ago, when we embarked on one of our lives’ early journeys. Being away at boarding school when we’re in our early teens meant we only had each other to share our problems with. Of course problems then only consisted of academic-related problems, growing pains [including menstrual problems!] and the odd crush with some male teachers [not that there were that many male teachers and out of those few, even fewer who could qualify as eye candies!]. Having lived with and known each other 24/7 for five years meant we have a very special bond and there are many things that I share with and confide in my buddies that I don’t share with colleagues at work.

The truth is I have always told myself to be wary of colleagues at work. We are not close friends, more of strangers thrown together by work circumstances and having to work together in teams when we all come from so many different backgrounds. And besides, I have heard too many horror stories of backstabbers and a**kissers at workplace everywhere [and even know one or two of them] to really be comfortable with (some) work colleagues.

Even then, there are five categories of friends that I have from college [we call our boarding school that]:

One: Those who I have always been close to practically from day one of stepping into that dormitory of 30 girls as first formers, with whom I have kept close contact with throughout my university days, my various relationships and work crises, insecurities, confusion, frustrations, issues etc.

Two: Those who I hardly ever spoke to in college because we were in different houses or different classes but somehow got very close to after college days by virtue of sharing a room during A-Level and/or university or having our paths cross some time later in life.

The above two categories of friends are very rare gem of friends indeed. They provide me support, encouragement, advices [sometimes even when I don’t want them!] and criticisms, and are frank with me, telling me my faults and follies. I can totally depend on them.

Three: Those I used to be close to but sadly have drifted apart somehow, due to circumstances. We moved apart, grew up separately and never quite kept in touch. And when we meet, it’s just not the same somehow. Sad but true.

Four: Those who I’m not close to but can get along well with. And whenever we meet, it’s a pleasant and cordial meeting, but we don’t go sharing secrets with each other.

Five: Those I have never been close to and never will be. These are usually, but not necessarily, members of some clique groups who think themselves as superior over the rest, by virtue of their parents’ or families’ wealth or power or position. Individually, some of them can actually be quite nice and fall into the fourth category above.

Of course, there are those friends at work who I’m quite close to but even then, there are only a very select few who I can really trust and pour my heart to. Because I have learnt that not everyone cares about you, some just put up a pretence front [I discovered that when I got pick-pocketed many years ago]. And some get close to you only to learn about your secrets and use them against you.

Maybe that is why some colleagues call me a snob, for keeping to myself and confiding in my old mates, rather than in them. And it just so happens that some people do refer to our school as posh prep school and its products as snobs.

The truth is, one needs to have sufficiently gained my trust first before I can trust and confide in that person and tell my angsts, share my secrets, desires, deepest wishes, matters of the heart, happiest thoughts, life issues, family problems, health worries etc. And likewise, that person should be able to confide in me.

To all my best, close and good friends [in categories one and two above], I love you girlfriends! Thanks for everything!

The CNY Weekend: The Good, The Bad & The Ugly

Took leave on Friday, 16 February for the family trip to Bandung. The trip was booked ten months earlier and supposed to have taken place during the Independence Day weekend last year but India beckoned me then. Hence, I had to change the trip dates twice - first to rectify the wrong return date I had accidentally chosen [22 September instead of 2 September - only a ditsy girl could do that kind of error], and then to change the dates altogether from August/September 2006 to February 2007 – costing me quite a considerable sum of dosh. This is how I lose my money: change of flight dates, change of flight details, adding additional passenger, all for my Indonesian trips.

Seemed that I’ve been spending the various New Years at places beginning with ‘B’: Bangkok was during the 1 January weekend, then Bali was during the Muslim New Year weekend and Bandung during the Chinese New Year weekend.

There is only one flight out to Bandung daily and ours took off at 8 am [scheduled take-off is 7.35 am]. As Bandung is an hour behind, we arrived after 9 am and after the plane had circled the surroundings of Bandung numerous times. See, Bandung is surrounded by a ring of mountains, and landing and take-off from its small, miniscule airport Husein Sastranegara is pretty challenging. The airport can only serve certain sized aircrafts.

Our hotel pick-up was already waiting and after waiting for another couple, we set off for the hotel. As it was still early, we could not yet check in and instead decided to go in search for some brunch. The hotel concierge suggested we go to a nearby restaurant serving Sundanese food (Sunda is the ethnic local name for West Javanese). We didn’t particularly enjoy it as the dishes were salty.

We returned to the hotel, checked in and after prayers, Mummy and I decided to be brave and adventurous and take the local transport called angkot [short for angkotan kota, literally translated it means city transportation] to Pasar Baru Trade Centre. The angkot are mainly converted mini-vans in two-colour schemes with the seats facing each other [i.e. with your head against the window]. Everyone uses it, from school children to office workers to the young Sundanese couple and tourists. You must shout out, ‘Kiri!’ if you want to stop [literally translated, it means Left, i.e. pull over to the left]. The fares are dirt cheap and start from 1000 Rupiah.

Pasar Baru is a big building of 8 floors [including a basement and food court at the sixth floor] and sells various things like clothes, shoes, ladies’ prayer attire [telekung], materials for gowns and kebaya... It closes at 5 pm daily.

We decided to take a tour to Mount Tangkuban Perahu on Saturday. The driver picked us up at 9 and drove us through the city centre, pointing out various landmarks and buildings built by the Dutch. As we travelled further north of the city, we began to appreciate why the city was called Parijs van Java (Paris of Java). The northern suburbs still maintain their graceful residential areas with tree-lined boulevards.

We drove past the town of Lembang; the rich, fertile soil the town is blessed with [thanks to nearby volcanic mountains] enables it to produce vegetables, corn, tea, strawberry and milk. The air was getting increasingly cosy and cool as we ascended further up to the mountain. We could smell the sulphurous fumes even before reaching the area. The ‘overturned boat’ had, years ago, collapsed under the weight of built-up ash and instead of the usual conical volcano shape, it has a flat elongated summit with a huge caldera.

Of course, there is a local legend to explain this phenomenon:

An estranged young prince returned home and fell in love with his mother. When the queen discovered the terrible truth of her lover’s identity, she challenged him to build a dam and huge boat during a single night before she would agree to marry him. Seeing the young man about to complete his impossible mission, she prayed that the sun rose early and as the cocks began to crow, the prince turned his nearly completed boat over in anger.

We were met and accosted by dozens of peddlers and started to get uncomfortable with all the various suggestions [‘You should take the picture from this angle’, ‘You should go down this pathway’, ‘Won’t you consider buying this?’ while pointing to various merchandises they had with them...]. We left after about only half an hour there, admiring the view and marvelling at the still simmering and bubbling mountain.

We drove down to Ciater, passing tea plantations. Ciater’s main attraction is the Sari Ater Hot Spring Resort but we decided not to enter, opting instead to return to Lembang. We had a good lunch washed down with fresh milk at a clean eatery, before returning to Bandung.

Traffic heading out of Bandung had started to build as the afternoon progressed and even though we were on the way back, the situation was hardly any better on our side of the road. We managed to stop at Rumah Mode factory outlet at Jalan Setiabudhi [it reminds me of an almost similarly named road in KL] before returning to the hotel.

Sunday/Chinese New Year: we took a few angkot to travel in the city, going from one factory outlet to another. There are many factory outlets in the city, some are clustered near each other but some are quite isolated buildings. All that hopping in and out and up and down the angkot, and being jostled here and there in the small space while enduring bumpy rides and knocking my head against the door while exiting had me feeling quite dizzy before long.

Abah managed to get a good deal on a pair of trousers, size 33 [yes, he’s lost weight and three inches off his waist! Sadly he can no longer fit into any of those trousers I bought for him earlier - all that searching and suffering at Isetan Men’s Department previously...!]. He also bought a pair of trendy footwear at another shoes outlet and I bought a pair of wedges too. As for Mummy, she was looking for a bag but couldn’t find anything to her fancy but was satisfied anyway as she managed to buy layer cakes from Kartika Sari, a famous local bakery which only has branches in Bandung [we found out about this bakery by word of mouth during our Shanghai trip eight months ago!].

We then returned to the hotel to rest and perform prayers.

Mummy and I then braved the afternoon rain and went back to Pasar Baru. I decided to get a Bandung haircut and was happy to find a salon in the market. We didn’t buy much as we had less than two hours to browse and bargain and shop.

Dinner was had at a Minang Restaurant about one km from the hotel.

Woke on Monday feeling slightly under the weather. Turned out I had a slight temperature [I had been experiencing gas and wind in my tummy from the evening before] and a mild diarrhoea. Not good news when you’re about to travel surely so I swallowed some PCM and diarrhoea pills. We checked out and left for the airport at 7 am for the 9.05 flight back to KUL.

I was feeling slightly worse after the plane and coach ride back to KL so decided to return to HQ with my parents [I originally wanted to return back to micasa]. Visited the doctor and was told I had a temperature of 39C.

So that was on the Bandung trip, the good and fun times had and the bad misfortune of falling ill just as we were departing.

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Left HQ for micasa on Tuesday morning. I was looking forward to resting and relaxing after unpacking and ironing but what do you know... some lowlife threw yet another plastic bag of viscous sticky gooey stuff onto my porch. This time, I think it was mixed with paint because tried as I might, I could not for the life of me, in my recuperating state, get the stain off on Tuesday evening. Asked Abah to drive me to the police station where I lodged a report and endured over an hour-long wait to record my statement. Seriously, couldn’t they have made the procedure simpler? I was about to recover from my fever but even a healthy person can fall ill after spending only 15 minutes while waiting in the waiting room, with all that acrid cigarette smell.

The porch now looks ugly and horrendous like it has been sprayed with graffiti and I can’t help wondering again and again who could stoop so low to do that kind of mean and malicious and spiteful act on another person. I felt like crying and shouting and screaming and weeping at the same time but I didn’t. I just pray that God will deliver the perpetrators their just punishment. It’s just so sickening and sad how low people can get and I don’t even think they got the right person or right address. That’s what makes it even more annoying. And what did they hope to achieve? For me to leave this house altogether?

Thankfully, when I think more and harder, I realise it’s just a porch. It’s not my life at stake here, well, at least, not yet. And I’m still not 100% well to worry and dwell too much on this, although yes, it’s just so bloody annoying.

If I don’t show up at work one day, or don't return calls or answer emails for no reason other than being ill or away on trips, then call the police and report me missing, will you.

... And Another New Year

is looming around the corner. I usually make a trip to Chinatown around this time to soak in the atmosphere, the hustle and bustle, the sights and sounds, and I’ll be happy to be there on my own, lost in the crowds.

When I go abroad, I don’t know why, but I usually try to check out the Chinatown. In London, Manchester, Singapore, Sydney, Melbourne, New York City... maybe after a while in a foreign place, I yearn for the temporary company of other Asians. Or maybe it’s to seek some Asian food after being subject to a diet of kebab or fish and chips or vegetarian/seafood pizza. Or maybe it’s to be able to walk in familiar and yet foreign surroundings and not stick out like a sore thumb.

I haven't yet managed a trip to Chinatown this year but I passed through BB on Sunday and my, there were many serious shoppers around!

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Arsenal left it too late again yesterday evening GMT/this morning. Woke up at ten to 6 and was delighted to discover they were leading by a goal. My delight however changed into dismay when Adebayor’s shot hit the goal post and Bolton equalised in stoppage time. I didn’t watch the extra time as I didn’t want to risk being late and only found that Arsenal actually won when I reached The Office. Read about it here.

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It's been sooo hot these days. Thankfully it rained on Monday evening. What a relief. Can't wait to Escape the stifling heat of KL and head for somewhere cooler.

GONG XI FA CAI to all!

Skint Is My New Middle Name

Went for a meal during Friday lunchtime with a mate. Initially wanted to go to Hartamas but we came up the wrong exit into Jalan Duta and it was either head back to KL or go somewhere in Bangsar. I suggested Jake’s which is quite near micasa. Jake’s is quite cramped and not as cosy as Sri Ayutthaya a few doors away.

The bill came and I almost fell off my stool. Turned out the grilled fish I ordered was more expensive than the steak my mate ordered – I didn’t notice the fish was priced per 100 grams. Duh!

Well, at least I enjoyed the company and the posh nosh left me feeling quite full so I had a light dinner that evening and watched Phone Booth.

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Initially planned to go out on Saturday but changed my mind as I could only fit in my appointment on Sunday. No big deal, I thought, as it gave me the opportunity to practise what Dr. Peck suggested - delaying gratification. That was the first time in so many Saturdays that I spent totally indoors and I was the domestic goddess at cleaning – on top of the normal household chores, I even swept the balcony [which I only do like once a month], swept and washed the porch and even cleared the drain in front of the house.

If there’s any dengue outbreak in the area, I’ve definitely done my part in not contributing to it!

And, that wasn’t all, I even tackled the loathsome ironing before showering at noon and didn’t stop there; I fried some fish sausage [keropok lekor] - but then I had to do that as the fish sausage would go bad in a few days anyway - and did my laundry after that.

To reward myself for this domesticity and for actually not spending on a Saturday, I treated myself to The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen that afternoon. And found it to be most enjoyable.

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I initially considered going for a morning walk on Sunday Morning, but as I was going out, I decided to forego the walk. An early start to Sunday Morning when I woke up before 6 [surely it’s sacrilegious to wake up before 6.30 during weekends!] so after Suboh, I decided to attempt some DIY Yoga. So there I was doing the Corpse’s Pose and the Cat’s Pose and wondering if I got it right [maybe I need breathing lessons first].

As I found out from the news the night before that Le Tour De Langkawi would end in KL on Sunday, I decided to take the monorail. Picked up a bag I sent for repair at Starhill then rushed over to Times Square for my facial appointment. I was looking forward to a good pampering time.

The beautician played some background music, it wasn’t the normal spa music but it was okay. Then she proceeded to do the normal cleansing, steaming and exfoliating. Next – and I didn’t know I was getting this – she proceeded with extracting and poked my face here and there, plucking out blackheads and getting rid of what she called ‘oil seeds’ which I had never heard of that until Sunday!

And my, oh my, it was a painful experience. The background music had somehow changed its tempo to something that sounded, to my terrified person, scarier and sinister. Like The Omen’s soundtrack or something. And the beautician probed and dug and I could just about managed to stop myself from screaming out aloud. I remember thinking, what delaying of gratification is this? I prayed to God for the suffering to end.

My thoughts were interrupted by the beautician’s question if it was OK for her to extract another ‘oil seed’ and I thought, what the heck, you know better and I paid for this so you might as well. Well, this time, I was really screaming and crying in my heart, so severely painful it was. And in my agony, I wondered again how anyone can ever contemplate taking his/her own life, how anyone could hurt him/herself. Definitely not me, I’m too weak and cowardly to even contemplate hurting myself.

I now have some angry-looking red spots on my face on my already pock-marked face. I feel like some teenager nursing acnes due to hormonal imbalance. I wonder if I can get away by saying they are mosquito bites should any one be insensitive enough to remark on them.

After lunch, I went back to Lot 10 to perform prayers and then to sample some ‘free massage’. It was all a marketing lure of course to sign up new members to the centre. The masseuse told me that I was not relaxed [I admit I don’t find it easy to Relax when being massaged]. She also said I have a lot of wind in my body that it blocked my veins and that this could be due to a few reasons such as not drinking enough water [I told her I drink at least six glasses at work alone!], having showers at night or having too many thoughts. Eh?

OK, my mind works on overtime sometimes and I think about things. I multitask by planning things in my mind as I do chores. I think up of lists of things to bring, to pack, to do, to prepare, as I cook, clean and even wait for the bus. I worry over things and people: my parents, my sister and myself. But I also remember reading that ‘An idle mind is the devil's workshop. And the devil's name is Alzheimer's.’

Anyway, I actually signed up for a programme knowing full well how skint I’m going to be for the next month or so... But it’s an investment, for the wellbeing of my mind and my body.

Mid-February to mid-March is a four-week shopping blackout for me. Boo hoo. And now you can call me Miss Skint. Guess I can’t enrol into any formal Yoga classes for now.

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Arsenal won on Sunday. Read about it here.

D for Ditsy, E for Emotional

I almost had a minor cardiac arrest this morning. I tried logging into my blogger account and kept getting error messages [I must have been logged off from my account since my last access]. Seemed I had forgotten either my username or password. I tried logging in with my usual password many times and then with all the various usernames and passwords I could think of, even restarting the computer. I sought help from Blogger Help and they informed that a link on how to connect to my account had been sent via email. I even prayed to God [I always pray/talk to God, even for what some may think the most trivial things].

I waited and waited. No emails arrived at any of my email addresses. Then I realised, duh uh, I actually changed the email address in my Blogger profile 10 months ago, giving a fictitious one because I didn’t want to be discovered. So the link was sent to that fictitious email address. I had to send another request to Blogger Help; fortunately there's a section for ‘No access to email address for recovering login information’. So maybe I’m not such a ditsy donna after all.

And syukur, I managed to login again after having nervous blood pumping into my heart for about an hour [I could have sworn I typed that very same password a few times previously]. Anyway, phew! Thank You, God.

And I have changed the fictitious email address to a valid one. Heh.

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I’m an emotional yoyo. I get easily into characters of novels and dramas I read and follow. I cry watching (some) Disney movies. I scream and cover my eyes when I watch thriller and horror movies. I get easily teary, when I watch sad programmes documenting the hardship of other people. And I have mood swings. I’m crabby and crappy whenever I have one of those.

So if I read or watch or talk or think about something that makes me sad, sometimes I’d get all emotional and teary. It’s only normal for me. It doesn’t mean I’m forever sad. Any normal rational person would choose being happy over being sad.

Because life’s just too short to be miserable, to have grudges, to be bitter about what God hands over to us.

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Pardon me for stating the obvious, but life is difficult. According to Dr. Peck, what makes life difficult is that the process if confronting and solving problems is a painful one. Yet, it is in the whole process of meeting and solving problems that life has its meaning. Problems call forth one’s courage and wisdom; they create our courage and wisdom. We grow spiritually and mentally through problems.

I am only normal. I hate problems. But I do not want to avoid the problems that I have. They won’t go away if I avoid, ignore or procrastinate doing something about them. I don’t believe in relieving/numbing myself from pain by taking drugs to assist me in ignoring them. I’d rather meet my problems head on than to skirt around them. Yes, it's not always pleasant to deal with problems, and that's why, according to Dr. Peck, some people choose not to deal with their problems, turning instead to drugs and alcohol.

I hope I have learnt from my mistakes. I hope I have grown closer to God in the process. It is through this difficult phase in life that I discover who truly my friends are. Most of my closest and dearest friends are not in TheOrganisation. We go back many, many years to when we first started and cultivated our friendship with each other during our early teens, when living away from home meant we only had each other. Hence, there are many things that I confide in my long-time friends that I don’t share with my friends at work.

Anyway, I am thankful that God has given me a chance to get back closer to Him. I am thankful for being blessed with lovely and understanding girlfriends. And of course, I am thankful for regaining access to my Blogger account!

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Belated footie footnote: Arsenal young Guns beat Spurs last Wednesday. Read about it here and here. It must have gone to their head for they only managed a draw with Boro on Saturday. Duh!