Weight + Age ≠ Weightage

I’m on a rant here so can I just mention that I dislike people who keep moaning about their weight but not doing anything about it. They moan and they groan about putting on, about not being able to shed any kg off or maintaining their weight, about not being able to stick to their diet... you get what I mean I hope. Some even have to keep buying new clothes because the old ones no longer fit.

The thing is most of them complain about their weight and about achieving that ideal weight (whatever ideal is) in one minute but in the next, stuff themselves up. Look, I try to understand your problem. Not everyone has a high metabolism which is something you can’t control anyway. But we all have will-power that we can control or at least try very hard to. Don’t moan about putting on when you don’t stop yourself from consuming unhealthy food. Don’t complain about having to invest in new clothes when you don’t try or aren’t trying your hardest to shed the excess kg off. It can be a struggle having to lose weight especially if you’re trying to do it alone. So try to do it with a friend or an online buddy, have a food or exercise journal (real or online), set a goal and try to achieve it. Cut down gradually and then stop consuming fatty foods altogether. Read up about diets and decide which is the best for you, which will work best for you, and which will help you stay lean. Yes, I know it’s always easier said than done – but then again, almost everything in life is easier said than done, isn’t it? But it’s also so much easier to just give up and moan about it. And in the meantime, you’re not doing yourself any favour at all.

~~~~~~~~

Do you get agitated about your age? Or about aging? Do you feel your age? Do you feel age hinders your ability to do something or that you should stop doing something/start doing it differently?

Mummy used to say that there were things she could not do because of her age. I disagreed with her – I still disagree with this line of thinking – and told her so, reasoning that we are only as old as we feel. I hate it when people blame their inability to do something or the reason why they stop doing something is because of their age. Most of the time, it’s not because you could not do it but because you don’t want to do it. And I also hate it when people say things like they are lazier now that they are older. To me, it’s a bit too convenient to blame it on age.

Look, we all age. Unless we are Benjamin Button, which unfortunately (or fortunately) we’re not, we all age. And of course, the body goes through wear and tear and slows down from doing things. Even our metabolism slows down, our hair falls out, our waist lines grow, our energy levels go down, etc etc – all because of the joys and grief of aging. I’m not saying we don’t/won’t age but we should just stop blaming everything on age because aging is a natural process.

And yes, I do worry about aging. I’m a vain girl after all and I worry about lines and wrinkles. But hey, when you think about it, they are a part of our life’s journey, aren’t they? I’m amazed that some guys like to have lines (Chris Evans, the new Captain America, and even Cesc at 24, have some on their foreheads).

My take is this: Don’t. Don’t blame everything on age. Don’t stop doing anything/something because of age. Don’t use age as a convenient excuse to stop doing or not do something. And don’t let anyone stop you from doing something because of your age (unless you’re an underage, where you definitely cannot drink or have sex; or an octogenarian, where you definitely should not consider doing anything too adventurous).

I don’t feel my age. That’s not to say I would happily tell anyone how old I am. But I don’t want to let age stop me from doing things unless forced otherwise (e.g. age restriction for certain jobs). I feel young. I want to act young. And I don’t like to be told to act my age or to be told that I should stop (mis)behaving because of my age. (People should start considering dressing their age once they’ve hit past a certain age though; I can’t imagine a sixty-year old woman in hot pants or skinny jeans).

Tears On My Pillow

The past few nights, I went to bed crying. Yes, silly me was crying over the departure of Cesc. To be honest, I was surprised myself with my reaction. I didn’t expect it to affect me so much. But truth be told, I only really started following Arsenal when the Invincibles dominated the league. And Cesc’s emergence followed shortly after so it wasn’t hard for me to notice him especially after his continued brilliant performance. So much so, quite often I looked out for him first when I watched a match, or concentrated solely on him throughout the match. I’d smile and mutter querido to myself when I sighted him on the pitch. Most of the time, he didn’t disappoint with his performance.

I hate it that he left too soon. I hate it that he left without guiding us to victory, without ever lifting a trophy (if so, I feel he should have stuck around longer). Like Siân put it, I hate the team he’s gone to (I used to have some shred of respect for them but not after their classless behaviour the past few summers). I hate it that he loves that team too and is happy about joining them – surely he knows how we feel about FCB? But I know he can’t help the fact that he is a Catalan, from Barcelona and that is where he wants to play all his life.

But Cesc loves Arsenal too. Let me re-tell the story I got (again from Siân): ‘Finally, a little story to share for those of you doubting Cesc’s love of Arsenal. He once had carpet-fitters come to… well, fit some carpet, I guess. They didn’t know it was his house they were going to and one happened to be wearing a Chelsea shirt. Obviously the guy felt the need to show it off. Cesc went on to very politely ask him to remove the shirt, or leave. The guy thought he was joking: “No. I’m serious. Sorry.” Then he made him a cup of tea.

Don’t tell me Cesc doesn’t love this club.’

And go here for evidence of his thoughtfulness and charm (scroll down to the part with the signed jersey).

He’s been saying the right things even when he’s joined FCB, namely that he would be watching Arsenal every weekend because he’s an Arsenal fan and will go back as often as he can. He’ll always carry Arsenal in his heart ;’)

I’m thinking of some sentences with song titles that describe what I feel:

Baby Come Back
Because My Life Would Suck Without You
C’mon, you know you’ll Always Be My Baby
But if you choose to go, I’ll Cherish the good times
And I love you Wherever You Will Go

And other Cesc-related sentences: The Joy of Cesc (lost), The Cesc Machine (gone), The Ex-Cesc Baggage (that we now find ourselves with).

I can’t help it: I am after all ob-Cesc-ed with Cesc.

It feels like a break-up. Wait a minute, it is a kind of break up. Did you go because we are not good enough for you anymore, Cesc?

Please bear with me through this difficult period. I’ve never experienced anything like this. Sure I was sad when Titi, Pires, Bergkamp, Ljungberg left but this, well, I am just shattered. I’m depressed, distressed, disappointed, disillusioned... it will take me some time to get over it (did I not say it feels like a break up? Heck, it’s maybe even worse than a break up but not as bad as dealing with the passing of a loved one). Give me time to heal please. I need it. (And please bear with me as I may post puerile entries while I try to find my mojo).

And Wenger? When we let go of Cesc, I hope you ensure we have a ready replacement for him. But the current squad terrifies me. You can’t let a player of a quality like Cesc go and have no ready replacement. That would just be sheer madness, stupid and irresponsible. But thank you for letting him go with that buy-back clause.

Love Don’t Live Here Anymore

After a summer of speculation, of ‘will he/won’t he’ questions, it’s finally come to this. I found out about it early on Thursday and have been depressed since. Damn you, FCB (take your pick: F***ing C***y Bastards, Faggot Cocky Buggers, Faeces Chav Bollockers). I know the day would come but discovering it came too soon does not bode well at all. And this is one blog post that I want to defer for as long as possible.

As much I respect Wenger, I can’t help but feel he’s partly to blame. He should have played one of the world’s best midfielders with the best. The root for Cesc’s transfer is for not having invested in the squad years ago. As it was, Cesc continually had to carry the team. I’m not saying we should spend for the sake of spending but we should invest in proper and proven quality. Mix the proven experienced with the young players. Invest smartly instead of relying on bargain buys, unproven quality, has-beens or those players well past their used-by dates (Disastre and Squill are two prime examples). If we fans are frustrated, imagine how Cesc was. To be able to be the best, one must be among the best; unfortunately not all who don the Arsenal colours are good enough. Also, it would have been nice if the transfer had been dealt and concluded with at the beginning of summer instead of dragging through until we were on the verge of our first match.

We look like we’re already struggling without Cesc if last Saturday’s match was any indication. We didn’t click well, we struggled to create chances and we committed unnecessary and unprofessional fouls. It was bad enough we had a blinking blind referee and linesmen, we also had that Jokey Bastard to contend with. Unless we invest quickly in someone ready to step in, it will be a long hard season for us.

I can’t and will never hate Cesc. He’s been professional throughout his Arsenal career, he played with his heart out and genuinely wanted to win. Say what you want about him but we will miss him greatly now that he’s gone. Cesc is like a rare gem that you come upon few and far between.

Good bye and good luck my love. I hope you will be happy back home. As much as I love you, I hope you will regret moving back. Because you could have achieved a lot more with Arsenal. I mean, what’s the challenge in going back home to play for FCB? You’re already a superstar at Arsenal; at FCB you’ll be only one among the few known ones and you can consider yourself lucky enough if you don’t spend time on the bench.

Life goes on and now it’s life after Cesc. We will find a great club still there, a great stadium still there and a somewhat-great-but-at-times-frustrating manager still there (and for those who want Wenger out, be careful what you wish for. Says who? Says Gary Neville. If he can appreciate Wenger, why can’t we?).

Why do people I care about all go and leave me behind? *Sobs*

You abandoned me
Love don’t live here anymore
Just a vacancy
Love don’t live here anymore

We’ve lost Cesc Fàbregas ;’(
The two ‘angry birds’ (see the small pic of the two birds at bottom right. Thanks, Kickette!). Greedy Nasri, I hope you go already. At least Adebuywhore was honest about his greed. You twist your words, ‘don’t believe the media’ etc. Well, good riddance when you go!

London’s Burning

London’s burning! London’s burning!

All across the town, all across the night
Everybody's driving with full headlights
Black or white turn it on, face the new religion
Everybody’s sitting ‘round watching television!

North London, specifically the area around Tottenham (it’s a chav thug area, what do you expect?), was burning Saturday evening. I was shocked when I saw the images. I only realised the scale of the destruction on Sunday afternoon and even then I thought it was contained within the area.

So it was with shock and horror when I discovered that the riot had actually continued since and even spread to other parts of London and England (Birmingham, Liverpool, Manchester and now West Bromwich, Wolverhampton, Leicester, Nottingham and Bristol). It sparked after a young man, Mark Duggan, was shot dead by the police. This reminds me of the situation in Greece in December 2008 all over again. Talk about déjà vu.

It quickly went out of control with buildings and even vehicles set on fire. Looting followed. From what little I read and understand, the perpetrators are frustrated with poverty in their area and this brutal treatment by the police just sparked everything out of control. Well, I’m all for freedom of speech – within limits. After all, London has always hosted peaceful demonstrations without the police having to intervene and marching out to voice out dissatisfaction and/or demand better treatment is very different from rioting. The cities hit so far are those with a lot of minorities who may feel dissatisfied with how they have been treated. The common factor is their age – most are young people who perhaps feel disillusioned about their lives and who don’t see any future for themselves what with the economic slowdown, rising prices and cost of living and reduced employment opportunities. I’m not sure if the education system plays any role in the deterioration of the morals of the society;after all, I received British education myself. I’m not trying to find excuses, merely trying to make sense and understand what prompted them to resort to such extreme cause of action.

But you know what, screw all that. There are many people who would feel marginalised because they are in the minority elsewhere. Not just in England but also in Australia, Europe and the US. Being a minority doesn’t mean you have to be a victim of society. Look at the Chinese: they are minorities in a lot of countries and yet they work hard, stick together and help each other. They control the economy in most countries like Indonesia, even Malaysia. They set up Chinatowns in other countries and are powerful members of the society. They don’t exist out of the society; they play a big part and contribute to the economy. So don’t give any shit about not getting equal opportunities, about being marginalised, about being part of the underclass. Anyone can rise above himself and his unfortunate circumstances if he chooses to, if he wants to, and if he is serious about doing so. If you migrate to a new country but are still determined to stick to your own people instead of assimilating then you’ll definitely stick out like a sore thumb. The locals would hesitate to approach you too. I’m not saying you should abandon your ideals, culture, religion and beliefs when you migrate, but make an effort to learn about your new country and how you can contribute to it. It’s the least you can do for the country which has agreed to accept you. If you refuse to participate in society, then don’t blame anyone if you later feel isolated or ignored.

The current Government is trying its best to undo the damage and mess left behind by the Labour Party. They have no choice but to increase taxes and exercise financial prudence. No doubt this would have undesirable effects but then again, most bitter pills are hard to swallow anyway (yes, I’m pro-Tory). The protestors/rioters have to understand they are the country’s future to build the country and work its way out of recession. Like the Mayor of London said, you don’t boost job-generating prospects by smashing shops – and looting them. You don’t make it easier for small businesses to take on apprentices and interns by torching their premises. And there is always an alternative to violence. The PM has also warned young rioters that ‘if you are old enough to commit these crimes, you are old enough to face the punishment.’

I love London. I return to it regularly – not as regularly as I like but I try to do so every four years or thereabout. It saddens me to see the city and other cities in this state but I’m glad and proud of those decent people left who get together and help clean up.

It’s barely a year to the London Olympic 2012. I pray that peace, love, common sense, understanding and order will prevail soon.

Cat City - August 2011

I was in Kuching over the weekend. I took half-day leave on Friday and Fire-flew there. We landed around 6 pm and it looked like it was closer to 7 pm than 6 because of the dark clouds hovering above. It had rained earlier because the ground looked wet. I searched for the airport transfer which I had pre-arranged with the guesthouse. I was quoted RM23 for the pick-up; an airport cab would cost RM26.

However, to my increased annoyance, there wasn’t anyone there. I searched for the guesthouse’s number and called. I was asked why I didn’t confirm my booking and I said, I actually had done that a week before. As it was getting late, the person advised me to just take a cab. Hello, the reason I pre-arranged is because it would be slightly more economical for me rather taking a cab. Still feeling pissed, I hurried to the taxi counter and paid for a cab. Thankfully the traffic wasn’t so bad save for on stretch just after the airport and we reached the guesthouse just before break fast time.

I broke fast with a guy who worked there on a temporary basis. Another guy (also a temp) sat and chatted with us. They were nice blokes and I had no issue with them.

I went out and walked to the shopping centre at Riverside Majestic (where I would check in the next day) and bought some food and drinks. I also went to a stall to pack some food for the next morning’s pre-dawn meal.

When I got back, the idiot staff who overlooked picking me up was there. I gave him a piece of my mind and being a typical Malay guy, ignored and cut me off. Of course this only prompted me to continue ranting. I told him he had issues if he couldn’t listen or accept feedback. He called me rude and I was so shocked and angry that I just said my last piece and stormed off. Rude? Rude? You’re not exactly polite yourself. Why couldn’t you just admit your mistake? And what about your inability to accept criticism and admit your mistake? Grrrr...!!!

Apart from the rude staff, I also wasn’t happy with the guesthouse’s slow response, and at times total lack of response. Besides the human issues, I wasn’t too thrilled either with the bathroom conditions at the guesthouse.

I woke up at 4.30 am the next morning for my pre-dawn meal and checked out just after 7. I walked to Riverside Majestic and stored my bag there. The plan for today was a trip to Bako National Park. The bus passed by as I was walking to the hotel so I had to wait for the next one out at 0815. I killed time by walking along the waterfront and Main Bazaar before returning to the bus stop at Khatulistiwa Café.

The trip to Bako took us 40 minutes (it cost RM3.50 one way). We had to pay for the park entrance (RM10) and then take a boat to the National Park. The boat cost RM47 for up to four people I think because we got charged RM54 for six people. However, only the British girl and I wanted to come back after 12 noon (the two couples wanted to stay until 4.30 pm) so we had to pay RM23.50 each on the return trip.

It took only 20 minutes or so by boat to reach the National Park. We had to register at the Park HQ and inform what trail we wanted to follow. I had initially wanted to take the Teluk Pandan Besar but later changed my mind and went along the Teluk Paku trail instead. The trails were arduous and challenging alright (not at all like the Niah trail). There was a family of monkeys at the start of the trail and my, they were evil and vicious and fierce! I had to wait for a couple with a toddler to come and join them and even then I shrieked out loud when they looked like they wanted to pounce on me.

The trail went uphill and downhill and you have to navigate your way through tree roots. Once or twice I heard some funny noises and I even wondered if there was a wild boar somewhere and what I would have to do if I encountered one. I persisted and some forty minutes later, staggered out onto a small secluded beach. I sighted some boulders in the shade and made my way there where I sat perched taking in the surroundings and the scenery. All the others who followed the trail were Caucasians and some were already swimming.

I stayed there for about 30 minutes. After collecting some seashells, I made my way back to the Park HQ. I was not looking forward to encountering the evil monkeys again and not only was I in luck because the evil primates were gone but there was a proboscis monkey there instead having his midday meal! I joined the others who were busy snapping pictures. I must have taken dozens myself. The proboscis monkey made some funny noises and I think it was his species that I heard earlier while trekking.

I met up with the British girl and her guide and agreed to meet them at the beach for our boat-ride back. It was already low tide and the water had receded so much that no boat could come near the jetty. We walked on what was the sea only a couple of hours before and had to wade the last few steps into the boat.

I took a van back to Kuching as I didn’t want to wait for the bus (the bus would only leave at 1330 and it was only 1240 then). The van cost slightly more at RM5 but moved a lot faster and we reached Kuching by 1 pm.

As I couldn’t yet check into my room, I walked along Jalan Padungan and even checked out Tun Jugah shopping centre before returning to the hotel. It was such a hot humid sweltering scorching day and I was ready to melt. I took a long shower (I felt like I could stay under the shower forever), performed prayers and read a bit of Quran before taking a siesta.

I broke fast in the room and only ventured out for dinner after prayers. Dinner was had at the stalls where I bought my pre-dawn meal the evening before. I returned the hotel and asked the hotel staff how to get to Satok Market and if there was a cinema in the vicinity. They advised me to take a cab to Satok (but of course) at RM12 a way and yes, there is a Cineplex in the Riverside shopping centre. I made my way to the Cineplex and was sorely tempted to watch Captain America again. But I didn’t.

Firefly had informed that my flight back on Monday was cancelled. Instead I was bumped to the next flight departing at 1025. It was then when I realised I forgot to bring a top to wear to office on Monday. I had three options: recycle what I wore on Friday; wear casual; or shop for a new top. I had never worn anything to wear twice in a space of a few days before and was not keen to start that.

On Sunday, I walked to the Tune Hotel to book a shuttle to the airport. It cost only RM10 but they need at least two people travelling. If you’re the only requiring it, you’ll need to pay for two people. Well, if I had to pay for two, it’ll cost me RM20 which is still less than RM26. No, I’m not stingy, just financially shrewd. The lady behind the counter couldn’t confirm if I’d be the only traveller so I promised to come back again later in the day. After that, I walked to Jalan Masjid to get the bus to Satok. Jalan Masjid is like the bus terminal there and I was sure I could catch a bus there.

There were quite a few buses to Satok. The fare is only RM1 (as opposed to RM12 if you took a cab!). I walked around, taking in the scene. It was a huge, huge market and you can get practically all your food here (fruits, vegetables, chicken, meat, even snacks). You can even get plants for your garden and some clothes. I just wanted to find a place selling Sarawak layered cakes. My friend had advised me to find it behind Hartz Chicken shop. I finally found it and was surprised as I expected a shop but this cake house, Anisah Cake, really operates out of a house! Hartz Chicken is on the main road and the house housing Anisah Cake just behind it. I bought a few rolls and left. Not to worry, they used Buttercup and margarine.

I took a van back to the hotel and stored the cakes in the fridge. I went out again to find a top for work tomorrow. I searched in Parkson and the smaller shops; I went to Tun Jugah; I even crossed the street to another shopping centre but I couldn’t for the life of me find anything suitable for office wear at all! So where do the good women in Kuching shop for their office wear? I even ventured out to the Main Bazaar under the relentless sun to no avail. So it meant I would recycle my Friday outfit after all. Good thing I had already laundered it the night before in anticipation.

I returned to the hotel and dithered if I should watch Captain America. The pull of Chris Evans (or his body? No, not just his body because he has good looks too) was just too great. Finally, I decided against it. Instead I stayed in the room, read and later napped.

Just like the evening before, I went out after evening prayers and did a bit of shopping before having dinner. I returned to the room at almost 10 and packed. There was no Star Sports in the hotel TV channel offerings – not that I would watch the match between Man Sh*tty and ManUre.

I checked out at 8.15 on Monday and walked to Tune Hotel for my 0830 airport transfer. The transfer is hourly at half past the hour beginning at 0830 (so it’s 0830, 0930, 1030... and the last shuttle at 2030). Turns out that there is a similar hourly service from the airport too on the hour (0900, 1000, 1100...until 2100). If you’re catching it at the airport, buy your ticket at the Golden Car Rental & Tours counter. Its desk is just two desks away from Hertz at the arrival hall.

Flight took off on time and we landed just after noon. I took the train back to the city and met up with Abah at Ampang Park LRT station. Then I took the bus to work and worked for the rest of the day.

Hope you had a good weekend too, which was stress-free and nowhere as hot, humid, scorching, sweltering like mine!

Going Solo

I was chatting with a colleague last week who just came back from an official trip to Malta. He mentioned that the person he was travelling with wasn’t into exploring so he didn’t manage to venture out either. He explained that he prefers company while travelling.

I have been travelling solo for a number of trips and years now and must say I LOVE it. This doesn’t mean I hate company, just that I’m very fussy with the company. It was Maria who pointed out that it’s better to travel alone and be happy than to put up with someone just for the sake of having company but end up not getting along with sometime during the trip. I’m glad I took her advice because it turns out that travelling solo is doable and so much fun that I haven’t looked back since.

I find travelling alone to be relaxing. OK, sure I may look like I rush about (having to cram in as many things to do and places to visit in a short time do that to me) but I get to choose what I want to do, where I want to go and the pace I want to do it at. I don’t have to compromise or negotiate or argue over my choice of place/museum/sights. I don’t have to explain and justify why I choose to visit a particular city/country, stay at a particular hotel in a particular area, what/where I plan to do/go next, duration of stay, mode of transportation, etc. I don’t have to feel disappointed or resentful if my choice of place is turned down, or feel like I have to compromise to satisfy my travel partner(s). I don’t have to wonder if my travel partner is feeling happy or satisfied. Believe me, that does wonders for my stress level and when I travel, I want to keep my stress level down to a minimum. I don’t want to go on a trip to feel frustrated or stressed; I don’t have to go on a trip to feel that anyway!

This does not mean that I dislike company. In fact, sometimes I wish that I have company to share what I was experiencing, to discuss further about the place, to share opinion, to watch over each other’s back... and sometimes there are countries where it would be wiser and advisable not to travel alone. What it simply means is I love my own company (maybe a bit too much) and I’m comfortable with my own company (this doesn’t apply to just travelling but also to shopping, dining and watching movies. I’m comfortable doing it on my own).

There are times when I was asked if I ever got lonely on my trips. Honestly, no, I never felt lonely. I may be alone but I’m not lonely. There’s a difference. And I’m never bored, I mean how can anyone bored when you have:
- to be alert at all times;
- so much to see, observe, absorb, do, decide, hear;
- to decide what to do and what you have to realistically admit may not be feasible with the limited time you have;
- to think on your feet and make split-second decisions when circumstances warrant them;
- the locals and other travellers to talk to;
- to be flexible and make alterations to your earlier plan without disrupting the flow of your journey and itinerary...

Really, it’s impossible to be bored! Besides, I also get to be selfish and choose to do/go only what/where I want. I get to choose how long I want to stay – at museums or art galleries, at historical sites, even how long I want to spend eating or if I can just make do with something simple. I get to decide if I want to climb up a particular hill or divert from a route. I can read a map but there are times when I just want to lose myself like I did in the souks and medinas in Tunisia.

And as I’ve mentioned, I’m very choosy and fussy. I don’t get on well with everyone, I take some time to be comfortable with people but with total strangers, heck, I can talk to them because they won’t judge me, they don’t have to know my life history and because realistically I may not even meet them again to worry about them.

Hmm, talking too much about this makes me think there’s a lot of similarities between travelling solo and deciding to stay single. Whatever it is, I don’t want and won’t let my marital status (or lack of it?) stand in the way.

~~~~~~~~

Adek and Cesc wish everyone a blessed Ramadan. May the Almighty grace you with good health, wealth, strength, peace and happiness in this holy month.