Life And Death

Life And Death by Carroll Carstairs

If death should come with his cold, hasty kiss
Along the trench or in the battle strife,
I'll ask of death no greater boon than this:
That it shall be as wonderful as life.

~~~~~~~~

I just finished reading The Memory Keeper’s Daughter at the end of last week. It tells of an orthopaedic who abandons his baby daughter because she has Down’s syndrome. This supposedly happened in 1964 by the way and at the time, the chances of any child with Down’s syndrome surviving his early years were low. It was this act that slowly tore his family apart.

I don’t blame him for what he did (is that bad of me?) because I think he did what he thought he had to do, he thought he did the right thing under the circumstances, and he thought that was the best thing for both his wife and daughter, believing the wife wouldn’t be able to cope with the news, believing he was protecting her and believing that the daughter’s survival was low. And I do wonder what I would have done differently if it had happened to me instead, if I had a child with Down’s syndrome. What would I have done? More importantly, would I have the courage and strength to accept this great test?

Sometimes I think I’m too afraid to ever have children for this reason. Because I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to cope and if I can accept the reality that my child is disabled, retarded or have a terminal illness.

~~~~~~~~

The world bade farewell to Michael Jackson last Thursday. I think it’s sad that this man with incredible talent became a shadow of his former self for the last two decades of his life (OK, thereabout). He became somewhat eccentric (if that is the right word), a recluse, made some bizarre choices and portrayed questionable behaviour (befriending minors, dangling his son over a balcony) so much so he was nicknamed Wacko Jacko.

And I think it’s sad that he seemed so alone pretty much all his life. Perhaps his childhood ended too soon or he rose to fame too quickly that he didn’t quite grow up, trapped somewhere between childhood and adulthood and seemed to shun company. And towards the end of his life he ran into financial difficulties too.

It seems to me that the world only talks glowingly of him after he’s gone.

I do hope that I die all alone and that I will not have to wait until I’m dead (which is too late anyway) to know if my family and friends appreciate me for who, what and how I am, and that they love me despite my shortcomings. So (and this is also a reminder to myself) let’s tell or at least show our loved ones how much we love and appreciate them when they’re still alive and not after they’re gone.

Movie Marathon Month

It’s almost end of June and I’ve watched six movies in this month alone (OK, that may be a low figure for the movie buffs among us here but considering I only watch like two movies in a good month, I consider six to be quite an achievement). I don’t have any explanation for this hike in movie activity but I will not discount the fact that we’re currently in between footie seasons as one of the factors.

Anyway. I watched 17 Again, a light comedy film about a bloke who was magically transformed back to 17. Zac Effron is quite cute (apparently, he’s supposed to be my celebrity boyfriend. Heh). But seriously, what would you do if you find yourself 17 again? And do you want to be 17 again? It’s a chance to live your life again for sure, so yes it’s tempting – though I’m not sure I want to go through all those exams all over again.

I also watched Angels & Demons (at last) and Terminator Salvation. Actually I never really watched any of the earlier Terminator films and I’ll be honest here and confess that the main reason for me for watching it was because I was salivating for Christian Bale (I also wanted to watch Drag Me To Hell – if only to glimpse Justin Long (!) and I do find it curious that he acted in a horror film like that – but didn’t manage to, fortunately or unfortunately).

At home, I watched Slumdog Millionaire (yes, at long last) and Bedtime Stories (I’m glad I didn’t go to watch the latter in the theatres).

And last but not least, I watched State of Play. I thought it was a pretty good movie. Russell Crowe looked a bit bloated though but his acting was still good. At the end of it, it got me thinking: would you stick to your principles even if it means exposing your friend or causing his downfall? Would you do the right thing and risk the friendship? And when you try to save a friend, is it always out of sincerity or is there an ulterior motive?

I tried to put myself in Cal’s shoes and I wonder if I’m a reporter like he was with a friend whose political career was at stake, would I try to help him out of sincerity on the basis of our long-standing friendship, or would I also be influenced by my reporter’s interest in getting the scoop? And would I ultimately report the right story, even if it means jeopardising our friendship? What would be my motivation, friendship or work interest? Or is there a balance between the two that I can strike? It’s a tough call and I hope I won’t be making that tough decision any time.

I have yet to watch Transformers and I have also earmarked a few other movies that I want to watch when they’re released. I hope they won’t disappoint and I hope they’ll both entertain and stimulate me.

~~~~~~~~

Numerous media have seized upon the interview given by Cesc in Spanish and misinterpreting what he said, prompting him to set the record straight, reiterating that he will stay and that he won’t go anywhere. Frankly, I think it’s being blown out of proportions because the guy loves his club, his gaffer, his team-mates and the fans. He’s angry and frustrated and I can understand his frustration. As a captain, he has the right to be unhappy with the drought of trophies. It means he gives a damn about the club. If he doesn’t care about the drought and isn’t worried, then I’d be very worried indeed! Check out the sensible take on the interview here.

I love you, Cesc.

Spotlight

Today, I’m going to continue with my Singers trip.

According to the train e-ticket, passengers are to be at the platform 30 minutes before train departure. I was running late (well, the bus was late) and only arrived (after performing prayers at Le Meridian) at the waiting area at 9.10 pm. There were already a lot of other fellow passengers there – most of them with big suitcases. Hey, it’s a more convenient way to travel across the Causeway after all – and with no baggage limitation (even some coaches have baggage limitation).

I was surprised to note that there were only two platforms for inter-city trains. Somehow I had thought there would be more platforms like there are in Rome, Budapest, Madrid, Berlin, Frankfurt and other European cities (which are not even hubs to begin with). I guess it’s because our city is on the west coast of the peninsular and rail tracks can only go north, south or east. One platform is for trains going north and another for trains heading south and those travelling to the east, need to travel south first before changing at Gemas. That figures, so only two platforms are enough then.

We boarded the train 10 minutes before it was due to depart and pretty soon, we had settled ourselves in our own coach and berth. I shared a coach with passengers of other nationalities: Singaporeans, Indians and even Filipinos. Each berth had a curtain that you can draw for privacy and there were steel ladders to help those in upper berths climb up. There were railings and safety belts for upper berths for added security.

Like I’ve mentioned earlier, I slept poorly despite feeling sleepy. I kept waking up to the excited voices of new passengers, the gentle snoring of a fellow traveller (oh, how I envied him) and the shaking turbulence I felt. At times I felt the train shook so much, it was a wonder no one fell off from their berths. I really must get a lower berth should I choose to head south again but those are the first to be sold. It also got gradually cold over the night so packing a light jacket would be wise.

You can observe the kiasu-ness of Singaporeans as early as at the Immigration Counter at Woodlands – rushing to the Singaporeans-only counter when there was hardly anyone there. Oh, and in the Arrival and Departure card, I initially put ‘N/A’ next to the Address in Singapore. The Immigration officer saw this and asked for my address and when I told him I’d be flying home that evening, insisted that I write down where I intended to visit. So I wrote ‘Orchard Road’. Funny, I would have thought address is where I’d be staying,not where I’d be traipsing or visiting.

It was already sweltering and humid in the Lion City even before 9 am. I swear it’s not as bad in KL. I guess the closer you get to the Equator, the more humid it is – never mind it’s only all of two degrees latitude south of KL. I stopped for a while by the river and was surprised to note some litter here and there (in sterile Singers!) and a homeless man sleeping away on a bench (again, an unusual sight). Similarly the visit to Arab Street that afternoon was not unlike walking in a sauna. It was that humid.

I was already perspiring when I finally reached the shopping area of Orchard Road and quickly sought refuge and relief from the heat at Takashimaya.

The next few hours saw me traipsing up and down that stretch of Orchard Road from Takashimaya to Paragon to Isetan and DFS Galleria at Scotts before returning to Takashimaya. Repeat route about two or three times. My only detour was to Masjid Al-Falah, conveniently located at Bideford Road, just off Orchard Road and very near Paragon, for prayers.

Like I’ve said before, I must say I was disappointed with the sale. Maybe I expected too much. I thought there’d be better discounts, fantastic prices and a lot more choice but the stores didn’t stock any more than those in KL (in fact some stores here carry more sale items!!!). I did manage to buy something not available in KL though.

I kept thinking of the tagline ‘Uniquely Singapore’ and wondering what was so unique anyway. The sale was not unique, the food was not unique and even the MRT suffered some technical problems just like everywhere else (I waited more than 30 minutes at Bugis for the train to Changi).

So will I be back? I don’t know. It will take me a lot of convincing before I go on my next trip there (like if Arsenal suddenly decide to go there for a tour). Don’t get me wrong though. I didn’t regret going there. After all, it was my decision, uninfluenced by anyone and I arrived at my decision with a rational mind. So no regrets. Just a tad disappointed but hey surely that’s good news for my wallet.

So now I’m looking forward to the Mega Sale – which kicks off on 4 July and lasts until 31 August. Hurrah!

~~~~~~~~

I am now sporting spotlights on my face. Dang it!

What Happens in KL

... is pretty much a routine, day after day, week after week, well, you get my drift. There’s an invisible pattern somewhere that I follow. So for me it is necessary to do something different once in a while to spice up my life. And to me, the crazier and the more spontaneous and the more impulsive, the better and the more exciting it is. That explains where I am right now, why I am here and how I got myself here.

Rewind to eight days ago: I was still seriously contemplating my crazy idea of checking out the sale in Singers (is that oxymoronic? Surely seriously and crazy don’t belong in the same sentence?). Then at the end of Saturday, I decided, heck, I’ll just do it! I was getting very excited on Sunday and couldn’t wait to continue my ‘cost-benefit analysis’ on Monday with the following in mind: the journey must be cost-efficient and the time spent in Singers must not be too long. (More time spent means I might be more tempted to spend which is not good for my financial health. Plus taking leave for this trip is a no-no).

A visit to the national carrier website showed that there were fewer seats on offers and fewer flights with those seats too. A reluctant visit to the low-cost airline showed pretty much the same result and in fact if I decided to fly at certain times instead, the total fare would be more than that charged by the national carrier. Ridiculous!

Then at the end of Monday, I thought of checking out the train schedule. And would you believe it, there are regular services to Singers (three daily) with one of them an overnight service. And the seats look more comfortable than those of coaches and the fare was very, very reasonable too. So I bought an ADNS (short for Aircond Day Night Second) upper berth leaving KL yesterday evening and arriving into Singers this morning, just in time for me to have breakfast before hitting the stores (and I could rest and sleep on the way too and avoid a trip to LCCT. An alternative is to catch the last flight out of KL and sleep at the airport before hitting the stores the next day and returning the same evening). And because one can claim GST only if one brings purchases out of either Changi or Seletar Airport, I bought a one way MAS ticket back, last flight out – for only SGD49. Total cost amounted to less than RM160, which is lower than that charged by this coach operator). Not bad, eh? Oh and by the way, when I checked the train website Tuesday morning, I found there was only one berth left from 24 or so the evening before. So that means this mode of transportation is popular, never mind the night service takes 10.5 hours instead of 7.5 hours on the day services.

Photo of a lower berth nicked from KTMB website

I was very excited throughout the week. Don’t get me wrong, I still don’t like Singers. I’m more excited about the trip, the journey, the adventure and the experience, rather than the destination.

And that explains why I am at Changi now. I’m waiting for my flight home.

~~~~~~~~

The train departed on time and we passed small and major towns on our way. I was feeling unusually sleepy and closed my novel at 10.30 pm. Unsurprisingly, I slept poorly. At times, I was awaken by boarding passengers, at times I felt shaken in my sleep. I suppose that was as closer as I would get to an earthquake. It sure felt like it at times. Maybe the lower berths don’t get shaken as hard, but I wouldn’t know.

We arrived at JB shortly after 6 and waited for the Immigration Officer to come on board. There was a chap who went around selling nasi lemak, fried noodles and some other breakfast food. Interesting. We then resumed our journey and stopped at Woodlands. This time, we all had to go down with all our luggage and go through Immigration. I didn’t bring my IC (but of course! I hardly ever carry it around even in KL) and was surprised when the officer asked to see mine. I don’t remember having to carry it on my previous trip.

We pulled at Tanjong Pagar station at almost 8.30 am and I made my way around the city and finally reaching Orchard Road after 10.30 am. It rained heavily at one point but I was spared as I was in DFS Galleria. The verdict? Some stores disappointed me; I was hoping they’d carry more stuff than the ones back home. There were a lot of Filipinos around too; I didn’t realise there was a huge population of them working in Singers.

Had my early dinner at Zam Zam Restaurant near Arab Street - ah, yes, the obligatory Arab Street visit. I also ended up purchasing some materials.

Walked to Bugis MRT to take the train to Changi but there was some problem with train heading east so we waited and waited and waited. Announcements were made to explain the reason for the delay - in all four languages.

Finally reached Changi just after 7 pm. Claimed GST, checked in, and went in.

And I’m off now. Bye!

Wanderlust

I finished Peter Moore’s The Wrong Way Home (he is really hilarious) over the weekend, in which Moore documented his experience travelling overland solo from London to Sydney. His trip took place in 1994 and yes, he travelled through the war-torn Balkan countries.

I’ve also very recently been following a blog of a young couple on their round-the-world (RTW) trip. Man, how I would love to do that, taking a year out and just travel from one country to another. In fact, the couple I met at Halong Bay were on their RTW trip. On first thought, it’s not very feasible for me because:

- I would need to save for years for the trip (I don’t understand why millionaires or billionaires don't go on RTW trips. Or do they?)
- I don’t think I can afford to take unpaid leave for a year. Even if the house is left occupied, there are still bills to pay to keep the house in order (quit rent, assessment rent, and utility bills if you don’t want to be cut off, etc, etc)
- And even if I can afford to go on an unpaid sabbatical, will my boss allow me? Plus it may not be a wise thing to do (going on sabbatical) under the current economic conditions
- I don’t think I can travel alone for a year. I can do a solo trip for a fortnight, three weeks, a month maybe. But for a year??
- Hence, I need a companion. Someone who can stand me, someone who can look out for me, who can put up with my emo yoyo and tantrums and fuss. Someone who also shares the same wanderlust and is able to also take a sabbatical. Hmmm...

And of course there are other considerations including but not limited to the following:

1) Food/Daily diet
This is an important consideration to me because I’m a fussy eater. Let me put it on record that bread is not on my favourite food list. The only bread I liked to eat was the homemade bread that Mummy used to make when we were small. Five years of bread for four days a week at boarding school definitely did not made me like bread any better (and we were served eggs too. Ugh!): that’s 2.5 years of eating bread, people. I can still eat buns but after a fortnight of a diet of buns and bread, it will be some time before I can start liking eating buns again. In fact, the very thought of buns is making me ill already.

I don’t really like kebabs either (they are so unhealthy!) but unfortunately I don’t have much choice when in Europe because this is among the few halal fare available. Seafood is not available everywhere and it’s usually more expensive even at seaside cities. Besides, I can never eat kebabs gracefully enough. Some meat, salad or sauce will be dripping down or smearing my cheeks and at the end, half of the kebab will inevitably be on the plate. Oh how I was craving for fish and chips and wishing for jacket potatoes on my recent trip! (I saw jacket potatoes on the menus of some restaurants in Malta but was in a hurry then. And fish and chips cost so much in places supposedly to be blessed with abundant seafood like Malta, Cyprus and Croatia).

Liking to eat bread, eggs and kebabs would certainly make travelling easier in my case. Unfortunately, they are the very food that I don’t like. But strangely enough, I didn’t miss eating rice at all in Europe. I can happily survive not eating rice for one month. OK, I know that’s nothing compared to some people who have actually stopped eating rice altogether (but still a big deal for the average Asian).

2) Sleeping arrangement
I have slept in airports (OK, tried to), on trains, heck, even outside a train station once before. (I don’t like trying to sleep in airports though because I can never sleep in bright, noisy places). I don’t mind sleeping rough once in a while as long as it’s once in a while. I’d like to sleep on a bed more often than roughing it up.

On a RTW, I need to keep booking for accommodation. Not impossible but can be troublesome. And what if I cannot get a place to stay for any particular night/stretch of nights? I don’t want to end up ‘homeless’. Been there, done that, thank you very much.

3) Other considerations
I’m not too keen on living out of suitcases (or rucksack) for extended periods of time. I also get worried over silly things like having a fresh set of laundered clothes to wear every day, laundering clothes and ensuring that they dry before my next journey etc, etc. I already worry enough about when and where I can perform my prayers while on the move as it is. Then there are other considerations like being kept up-to-date on family matters, world affairs, footie scores, TV programmes, etc, etc. And how long will it before I get tired and exhausted just dragging my suitcase around (no, I don’t want to carry a backpack on me again), of constantly having to keep an eye on my things, of always being alert of my surroundings... just to mention a few.

So bearing the above in mind, I guess I’ll have to make do with taking tiny baby steps and slowly expanding my wings. Sure all these different trips will add up and cost me more in the long run than one single long trip but to do it in one shot, I don’t know. It sounds overwhelming. Besides, what else is there to do once you’ve completed your RTW? I’m not one to go from one adventure to another like finish RTW, strike it off my list of to-do things, then try to scale mountains, then dive into deep oceans before attempting sky-diving etc.

But, God, how I would actually love to do a RTW if given the opportunity and the money...! I so want to go to Africa; to sleep in a tent somewhere along the Silk Road; to explore the ruins in Turkey and Syria, to name just two; to visit the ex-Soviet countries; to lose myself in South America (in fact I’ve already drawn a rough schedule for South America – if I ever get there); etc, etc.

To do it all in style, I’m now off to find a Greek tycoon...

If You Don’t Know Me By Now

They say life is a journey and like all journey, you cannot and should not expect a smooth ride. There are speed-bumps that slow you down; crossroads that force you to pause and choose between them; potholes and whatnots to test your patience; and crazy/drunk/inconsiderate road users/road bullies whose reckless driving and bullying will put your life at risk.

Now, it would be very tempting indeed to give you the impression that every step I take in my life journey is a wonderful and smooth adventure; alas, that would be very irresponsible and make me a liar because my life is far from perfect and by extension I’m not perfect (well, no one is anyway). But I am lucky and blessed indeed to have true friends who stick by me; who help pick me up when I’m down; who help get me back on track if I stray off it; who accept me for who, what and how I am, flaws, tempers, emo yoyo and all; who will not hesitate for a minute to tell me off if I ever change for the worse; and who no doubt will tell me that I should just ignore what people say about me.

So trust me when I say that they will tell it to my face in all honesty if they ever think I’ve adopted an overbearing, arrogant, snobbish or pompous attitude (they will not let me get away with this attitude) – and I would expect them to do so too, no questions asked. Hence, it took me somewhat by surprise when a total stranger, a visitor to this blog, actually said I’m pompous when the opinion is formed solely from reading my rant in this blog. I’m hoping for more constructive feedback and views to the few deep issues that I raise and the fears that I share here besides my life’s petty issues. Granted I write about them petty things but at least allow me that indulgence and not judge me by them.

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not a demure lass and I’m not proud to say that I swear a lot, have a short fuse and am very emotional. So yes I can be a disagreeable person indeed if I’m rubbed the wrong way but surely no way does that make me a pompous person capable of writing pompous blog entries.

I’m sorry if I have somehow given the perception that I’m an arrogant person through my writing – if so, this is an area I need to improve and work on – but I can’t help what people think of me and hey, If You Don’t Know Me By Now, well I guess you will never, never, never know me.

To be honest, I have been very (and unusually) tolerant and patient of the comments made against me (and my team and my captain) by this reader but I think enough is enough is enough already. Besides is not leaving irritating and annoying comments akin to spitting in this blog - the very offence the reader takes delight in accusing Cesc of (when he’s already free and clear of the charges by the FA and UEFA)?

To new readers and relatively new readers, this blog will be done My Way as I’ve made clear earlier (http://adekgraffiti.blogspot.com/2008/10/my-way.html). Yes, I have strong opinions about certain things but as my mate pointed out, I am entitled to it. I don’t expect everyone to agree with me all the time because c’mon, we all see and view things differently anyway.

So to repeat what I’ve said earlier (and at the risk of sounding pompous), if you’re looking for an emotionless, soulless, unoffensive, politically correct, sanitised blog, then this blog will disappoint you. And if you think what I blog about falls short of your reading expectations, you are not compelled to linger on. You can politely and quietly leave as you have come, and please make sure to trip, tear your host off a strip, let rip against your host, or spit on your way out.

~~~~~~~

Proof that life is not smooth even if you’re a promising footballer and Captain of a Big Four club (and youngest Captain of the Premier League): my poor Cesc suffered a head injury in the Azerbaijan-Spain friendly match on 9 June 2009.

My Braveheart has said it’s not serious though. Ahh, that’s my hero.

Arriving in South Africa

Guess Who’s In Town?

Arsène Wenger, that’s who! I was understandably excited when I heard this and even more so when I found that he was on a Castrol Arsène Wenger Asia Tour 2009 and is in town for a coaching session with the Malaysian U-19 team. I quickly googled and found that his itinerary would be as follows (different from that provided here though):


1130 am Arsène Wenger arrival at Dataran Merdeka

1145 - 1200 1st ‘Meet-the-Fans’ session (with AFCSM members)

1200 - 1220 Media reception

1220 - 1225 MC Opening & AW's Grand Entrance to football pitch

1225 - 1310 AW Coaching session with National Youth Team

- Castrol Performance Challenge (SAQ test)
- Castrol 5’s game

1310 - 1320 Group Photo with National Youth Team

1320 - 1335 2nd ‘Meet-the-Fans’ session (with public)

1335 - 1700 Press Conference

AFCSM members will get a special chance to meet the man

We will be given 15 minutes for group photography session

Please wear any Arsenal Jersey preferably Red (Home)


I don’t have any Arsenal merchandise with me in the office so I quickly printed a colour photo of The Professor, nicked a mate’s marker pen and set off for the Merdeka Square after 1 pm yesterday.

There were already hundreds of fellow Gooners at Merdeka Square waiting patiently. We waited. And waited. And waited. I stood then I found a spot to sit on in what little shade there was. Then I joined the crowd and hurried over to the other side. We waited. And waited. Suddenly the crowd went wild – turned out there was a lost Devil amongst us and he was mercilessly booed. We continued waiting. (I spotted a Liverpool supporter too but we left him to his devices).

Suddenly a chap behind me, spotting my printed photo of AW, asked if I supported Arsenal (no, you idiot, I just thought it’d be a good idea to visit Merdeka Square in the midday heat and hey since I was there why not wait and see what the fuss was all about and get a tan in the process). I said yes and he asked why I didn’t join his club, ManUre (no, he wasn’t the one who got booed). He went on to give his unsolicited advice that Arsenal haven’t won for a few years already and would never win again. If looks could kill, the sideway glare I gave him would have done the damage. I almost hissed back, ‘I’d rather lose with Arsenal than win with MU’. What a bugger. That just about confirmed what idiots ManUre supporters are. And what was he doing there in the first place? To act as a scout to lure people to support his club?

At close to 2, I sent a text to my friend: He’s either performing prayers or have fainted from the heat (I know I’m close to that!). He still hasn’t appeared!! 2 pm already :-(

I finally left, gutted. I probably lost half of my weight in perspiration – I swear it must be 40C out there - and yet didn’t meet The Professor. ;(

~~~~~~~~

Yesterday morning, in the midst of work, I was suddenly struck by the same crazy idea I had two years ago: of going for a short trip to check out the sale in Singers. So I did what I always do, my version of ‘cost-benefit analysis’ looking at the various factors:

- Flight costs: the low-cost carrier and the national carrier will cost me RM140 and RM216 respectively. But I so so so hate the trip to/fro LCCT
- Logistics arrangement: I could potentially make a day-trip by both carriers but MAS would cost a lot more for a day-trip and I’d be better off spending a night in Singers if I fly MAS - but that would cost more in terms of accommodation. I could potentially take the last MAS flight out and bunk at the airport (meaning I have to bring a change of clothes and toiletries) then hit the shops the next day and return in the evening. (Someone suggested taking the train but that would take me 10++ hours, as bad as flying to Europe! And coach would cost as much as flying the low-cost carrier but take more than double the time)
- Exchange rate: SGD1 = MYR2.42. Yikes!

Then I thought the savings I may make from the bargains there would probably offset the airfare anyway. Besides, it’s not as if I like Singers or the idea of stimulating their economy. But of course, there’s more choice for shoppers there.

Decisions, decisions.

What do you reckon? Advices and views are welcome.

~~~~~~~~

I had to cab it to work this morning as I missed the bus. The cabbie took a different turning and I said, ‘Well, it’s OK since you’ve already turned here.’ I was distracted with my fare and almost gasped telling him to stop when he almost passed the building. And do you know what he said to me? He actually said I was not ‘civil’ because I didn’t tell him where to turn (you’re the bloody cabbie anyway) and he interpreted my quiet gasp as a demonstration of my anger at him. I was surprised when I heard this and said no, I wasn’t angry. But he went on insisting that I was angry at him and that I was not being ‘civil’. I repeated that I was not angry but he still stubbornly insisted that I was angry at him bla bla bla.

And that did it, that really blew my top. If I wasn’t angry before, I was already seething then. So I paid him, got out, practically shouted, ‘Oh I’m sorry then!’ and slammed the door hard. Eff off you bloody idiot and no thanks for spoiling my morning.

Boy, did I derive great satisfaction from that.

This reminded me of another incident on a wet early morning some weeks ago. It was raining cats and dogs and I was almost drenched to my skin. I spotted a stationary cab and went to it. Only to be told that I should not get his cab wet. I apologised but pointed out that it was pouring hard anyway and there wasn’t much I could do about it. He told me not to start a fight when all he said was for me not to get his precious cab wet. Start a fight? That was like a cue for me to start one already even if I wasn’t even thinking of it. I glared at him and said sorry again in the most sarcastic tone I could manage, got out of the car (but not before ensuring my umbrella left more wet puddles in his precious cab) and slammed the door hard.

~~~~~~~~

I was amazed to discover that a friend does not have any credit cards (and neither does her husband). In fact, she doesn’t even do Internet banking. I can’t even begin to imagine living without my plastic. I’m not one to carry lots of money in my purse and I can be quite an impulsive shopper (so impulsive I once owned two similar jacket blouses, duh!). In fact, any of my trips would be near to impossible to arrange had it not been for my plastic (room deposit, purchase of beat-the-queue entrance tickets and air and train fares come to mind).

A shopaholic without a credit card? Unthinkable. And I dare say, impossible.

Mad World

Adam Lambert performing Mad World at the season finale

My parents went on a trip on my dad’s birthday and came back from on Friday afternoon to find the house had been burgled in their absence. The burglars ransacked two rooms and my dad’s book cabinet. So I had to go back on Saturday to help out (despite being notified on Friday, the police only came at 1 pm on Saturday and you cannot touch anything until they have come and looked at the crime scene). I got so angry just looking at the trail of destruction they left. Luckily my sister and family were home to help too.

What they took from my room: all the fragrances (EDP, EDT and EDC); Mummy’s brooches and jade bangle (that she bought when we went to Korea and Shanghai respectively) and the pearl necklace that I gave her (they didn’t take the pearl earrings though). I lost some money (a few hundred Ringgit and some foreign currencies) and a special edition coin, Christian Dior fashion jewelleries which I bought in London, an Anne Klein brooch and my old Olympus camera. Stupidly enough, they didn’t take the British pound coins that I stored in two film containers.

And thankfully they didn’t enter my parents’ bedroom or my handbags would probably be gone too.

It has always been a Mad World, exacerbated further by the financial crisis.

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Before Akak left later that Saturday afternoon, I found out that Big Brother does indeed have the dreaded C-disease.

Stage 4 C-disease, mind you, Stage 4.

He’s refusing surgery because that would subject him to post-surgery chemotherapy.

When I heard it, I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream and howl out my denial - surely it can’t be that bad, surely the disease is not that advanced, surely the doctors have made some mistake. I wanted to march over to him and shake him by the shoulders and scold him for his fatal addiction. But I didn’t. I wanted to turn back the years and undo everything. But I couldn’t.

I did cry myself to sleep later that night and on Sunday night. And I remembered the past. ‘I’m going to chase him around the housing area!’ I declared to my sister when she told me she heard that he had taken up smoking. I didn’t of course. He never smoked around us so we never knew if it was true.

And I remembered our past conversations way back when, after we knew for sure that he really had taken up smoking.
‘I’m going to quit smoking,’ he told me.
A few days later, I caught him smoking.
‘I thought you already quit smoking?’ I asked.
‘Yes, I stopped,’ he replied.
‘You stopped?’ I was confused.
‘Yes, I stopped the quitting,’ he said and gave me a wide grin intended to silence me.
Funny how I can still remember that conversation word-by-word today.

How I wish I had thrown up a tantrum then, to demand that he stopped there and then, to choose between his kid sister and the stupid stick. But would he have listened to a kid sister’s plea anyway?

And I remembered other bits of the past. He would call out only to me to open the door for him when he came back from anywhere. He would lie down and ask me to step on his body as a form of massage. I would look forward to him coming home during the summer holidays. (My brother was hardly at home as he went to boarding school at 13 - I was really small then - and flew directly to the UK after sitting for his O-Level-equivalent exams).

And I remember asking my parents when they took me aside one morning and told me I could not share a bedroom with him anymore. ‘Why?’ I asked confused. I didn’t know then.

Oh if only I could turn back the clock on that.

He’s refused chemotherapy. And what now?

What would you do if you know your days are numbered?

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Roger Federer finally won his first ever French Open at Roland Garros to become only the sixth man to win all four Grand Slams and equalling Pete Sampras’ total of 14 Grand Slams. Congratulations FedEx for delivering!

To me, he’s just the GOAT (Greatest Of All Time). Even on his knees, he’s just the bee’s knees.

WED 2009

Today is the World Environment Day. This year’s theme is ‘Your Planet Needs You! UNite to Combat Climate Change’.

We can all play our part by consuming less and doing more.

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I went through my wardrobe two weekends ago and discovered a few things. Like I have enough black trousers (OK, I have way too many of them actually). Like I have too many t-shirts - enough to dress a whole class of students. And like I have two similar jacket blouses (same colour and same design/cut/style from the same store! The only difference is their sizes: one is an S, the other an M). Oh. My. God. Only a ditsy girl can do something like that.

I decided to sell off one of the jacket blouses but who can I sell it to? After thinking hard, I remembered I’m almost the same size as a mate. So yesterday, I finally remembered to send her a message and ask if she wanted to buy it. Thankfully she did. Phew!

This has given me an idea to sell off other yet-to-be-worn clothes. The only problem is not many people share my size.

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My sister just called to tell me something awful had happened. Abah called next to tell the same thing. *Sigh* It looks like it will be a long, tiring weekend ahead.

And my joy of finally bagging the tote bag has been wiped out by the bad news.

Fit Flop

I have heard of the above brand of flip flops before but only had the chance to really examine some pairs on Sunday. Apparently, they will help give the wearer a workout just by walking in them by toning and trimming the wearer’s legs. Hmmm, it sounds too good to be true to me. I need a more convincing reason before I invest in a pair because they sure don’t come cheap. And they are not that pretty, at least not to me. So, no, I’m not sold yet. Are you?

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I watched a bit of The Biggest Loser a few nights ago. It’s a reality TV show where eight pairs of overweight contestants compete to win $250,000 by losing the highest percentage of their starting body weight. There are trainers assigned for designing and teaching the contestants comprehensive workout plans and nutrition plans. Any of the contestants who don’t keep fit run the risk of being a flop so to speak.

I haven’t watched any episode in its entirety but what little I saw disturbed me. Essentially, I am reminded that we are truly what we eat and if we eat damaging, toxic, bad food, our bodies will suffer the consequences. So what we eat will determine how fast our bodies age, plays a part in our life expectancy and the likelihood of us having healthy, fully functional bodies in our later years. Just like how what we consume can affect how old we look on the outside, it can affect our internal biological age too.

Some of the contestants are really pretty and young. There were two 26-year olds but their biological ages were actually 41 and 47 respectively (one was a heavy smoker and one a heavy drinker or something like that). Pretty scary, huh.

It also scares me to see that people can eat so much, punishing their bodies in the process (obese people have difficulty breathing and their hearts have to work much harder to pump more blood to the lungs and to the excess fat throughout the body, result in high blood pressure and life-threatening erratic heartbeats). Of course there are other health problems to be worried of (risk of high cholesterol level, cancer and diabetes just to name a few). So while it is comforting to turn to food when one is stressed etc, remember, too much of a good thing is really bad. This is a reminder to me too to reduce and stop eating all those junk food.

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I was humming the song ‘I Still Believe’ to myself when I watched Federer play Thomas Haas on Monday evening. Switched the channel over to the French Open and stood gaping in shock to see he lost the first two sets. I watched him battle his way through the third set, drawing at 4-4 before eventually winning it. Then he all but steamrolled over Haas in the fourth set before winning the match with a win in the fifth set. Last night, he played local lad Gaël Monfils and while the latter gave him a run for his money in the first set, he was no match for FedEx in the second. Monfils did try to come back in the third set but FedEx eventually triumphed.

Shrieking Sharapova and Murray had joined the other casualties.

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And finally, there were the power failures last night. The first time lasted all of five minutes: I know because I turned on the light of my hand-phone while I searched for a candle, candle bowl and some matches. Electricity was restored briefly before it went kaput again, this time lasting about 45 minutes.

I would have hummed to When The Lights Go Out if only I wasn’t starting to drown in perspiration.

How The Weekend Was Spent

It was an early start to Saturday as I had to make the cross-city trek back to Ampang for my 10 am dental appointment (yes, I know there are other dentists out there elsewhere but I prefer my dentist). I pride myself on my diligent dentist visits (and, ahem, my dental hygiene though alas, my pearly whites are not white) – although this time my visit was two months late. Of course I can think of better things to do on Saturday mornings than sitting on the dentist’s chair with my mouth open wide (I don’t know why I keep having this image of a lion with its mouth open wide, wait, maybe it’s because I once saw a lion with a tooth job) but I like the comfort of knowing I have no tartar build-up and more importantly, no cavities. Actually I find it very awkward being on the dentist’s chair because I can never figure out what to do and what my tongue is supposed to do while the dentist is working on my teeth. I try to hold keep still and hold my tongue in place if I remember but sometimes I can’t focus on anything besides bracing myself against pain (I’m too tense. And I hate pain. I have low pain tolerance level). And there’s the thing about trying to swallow too; my throat got so dry and wanted to swallow so badly but I couldn’t, not with my mouth open wide like that. It’s a good thing the dentist has good music taste. I note on every visit that the clinic tunes in to this cool music station and it helps take my mind off the dental work.

After the appointment, I popped over to the second-hand book shop at Ampang Point, my source for second-hand books. It was having a sale over the weekend; unfortunately it was the Moving Out Sale. According to the girl behind the counter, there would no longer be outlets of the second-hand book store anywhere but there will still be the occasional warehouse sale at selected venues (which may not be convenient for me to go). I ended up buying ten books (three comic books, three travel guide books and four novels). Guess my main source for second-hand books after this will be the SPCA jumble sales (which are only held semi-annually).

My parents then came to pick me up and we went to KLCC for Abah’s birthday lunch. It was either the late night or the early morning or the generous lunch portion but I was already trying to control my yawn even before my meal was completed. We are not big eaters and rather than let the untouched food go to waste, we asked the waiter to pack it up for us.

The rest of Saturday was spent watching TV – the French Open (I was cheering for the local lads Gaël Monfils and Jo-Wilfried Tsonga – he’s Charles N’Zogbia’s cousin! What a small world! - and they both won over their respective opponents), Project Runway and a bit of the FA Cup.

Sunday was spent on a bit of retail therapy at my favourite store. I consciously tried not to spend too much as I’m planning to buy my tote. It was a hot and humid Sunday but despite threatening to rain (with thunders and all), it eventually didn’t.

Watched Robin Soderling beat Rafael Nadal in the first set before losing narrowly in the second and beating him again in the third. I had to switch off the TV half-way through the fourth set (heck, I have to work today) but as we all know now, Rafael Nadal will not be lifting the French Open trophy for the fifth time. Who would have thought that? Yes, footie season has ended so we might as well watch other sports now. And tennis can be very mesmerising indeed especially with all the upsets; Nadal has joined Novak Djokovic and Venus Williams to be among the casualties so far. What’s next after the French Open and Wimbledon?

Oh and while Soderling has dimples in both cheeks (how unfair is that? For a bloke to have not one but two dimples!), he doesn’t look very cute (nowhere as cute as Messi or Shava).

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It doesn’t look too good for Big Brother. There is a high possibility that he has the dreaded C-disease. I don’t know what stage he is in – that will only be confirmed tomorrow I think – but I hope he’s strong enough to acknowledge the fact and fight on. Because it’s in times like these that mental strength is as important, if not more, as physical and spiritual strength.

I wonder how my dad is taking it all in. He had already lost his eldest daughter to the C-disease many years ago. It’s a cruel thing for any parent to survive his/her child(ren) instead of being survived by the child(ren).

If you can find the time, please make prayers for my brother for him to get well soon. Thank you in advance.

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I left Abah’s birthday present at home this morning and surprise, surprise, he has already opened it. Apparently the sandals are one size bigger and as such he doesn’t want to wear them outdoors. So he will wear them indoors instead (like the Koreans, we wear slippers indoors too) – and Crocs sandals at that!

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Oh dearie me. It’s already June. Wake me up already - though I doubt I have been sleeping all these while. Where did all the months go?

Oh and belated congratulations to Nando for tying the knot, oh la la, to Olalla Dominguez (she’s seven months’ pregnant, mind you).

Oh and even Pato is getting married. He and girlfriend Sthefany Brito will marry on 7 July 2009.

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Another blogger has announced that she may not be updating for some time, in fact she may not update ever again. Not great as I have one less blog to read/follow and the few who do still occasionally blog don’t do it very often too.

*Sigh* What’s a girl to do?