Bored. And boring.
I'm trying to recall what actually inspired me to start blogging. I love reading other people's blogs - some are funny and witty, others poignant. Some blogs help me keep in touch with friends who are far and away beyond the shores of Malaysia. Like novels, when I read something good, I feel an urge to write too, hoping that, without imitating the style, I can be as funny or witty or emotionally engaging as these bloggers who get 30+ comments to a post.
But, I have to admit, I'm a lame writer. Most of what I write are everyday, mundane things that don't really affect anyone else but me. The only reason I use the Web instead of a handwritten journal is because I'm so used to typing that penmanship tires me out (plus my handwriting has gone from mediocre to illegible). And even if the subject matter does have a larger impact, other people have written about it in a bigger and better way. So maybe I'm just one of those people who are taking up much-needed cyberspace that could be put to better use serving the community or generating some business.
I suppose blogging is just a manner of keeping a journal for me, albeit it's no longer private as I don't hide behind a pseudonym or alter-ego. It's also a way to let my friends know what's happening - some of them complain that it's so difficult to keep track of where I am. The only glitch there is that I need to be at a place where I have internet access, and the space and time to blog in the first place. Which is why a 3G device like the Dopod 900 was so appealing I almost splurged RM4000. The idea of being able to write about anything anywhere anytime (as long as there is 3G connectivity la, which apparently is still lacking in Alor Star) is really attractive, especially when my blogging ideas only come forth when I'm in the car, or lying in bed, or am just too tired to drag myself to the nearest PC. And I'm sure I've blogged about this Dopod thingy before, which makes my blogging even more boring than ever - the fact that I'm rehashing blogging ideas.
But using my real name has its cons. For one, there are some things that I really need to vent out which I can't do on these posts because they are also intensely private, or may affect someone close to me. No man is an island, they say. You are someone else's child, spouse, parent, a company employee, a boss or all of the above. Privacy is something you sacrifice, unless you intend to keep two separate blogs for different readers and purposes.
Have a good weekend, people!
Friday, 10 March 2006
Thursday, 9 March 2006
Champions' League Cheer
ARSENAL ARE THROUGH - and CHELSEA AREN'T!!!
Okay, it's been a very long time since I've watched English or European football on TV or anywhere else, and I don't recognise half the team anymore, but I still love it when Arsenal do well. I know my team is doing badly in the domestic league, but maybe, just maybe this is the year for European glory. We can all dream, can't we?
Tuesday, 7 March 2006
Oscar Red Carpet
The Oscars came and went without much excitement in my household. That's probably because I have not watched any of the movies nominated for the Awards, except 'Narnia' on a VCD with horrendous subtitles. Oh yes, there was also Kiera Knightley's 'Pride and Prejudice', which I did see at the cinema, but I'd definitely need to get my hands on a pirate copy to watch some of the Best Picture nominees. Even then, it's probably something I can only stomach after I give birth in April, as per Ain's recommendation upon watching 'Munich'.
I'd already checked out the results in the afternoon via Internet at the office, so the only motivation for watching the repeat show last night was to gape at the dresses and jewellery. The Red Carpet segment came on Astro at 9 pm, and I was watching it with Mak while waiting for Hubby to come back from Isyak prayers at the mosque (I know, such 'hedonistic' pursuits while my other half communes with God). We were admiring Naomi Watts' dress when she was asked how long it took to put the whole thing together and she replied, "Oh, a few hours, with a bit of stitching here and there."
Mak's response to that was, "What if she needs to pee?"
Maybe they stitch in a super-absorbent scented adult diaper in as well.
I'd already checked out the results in the afternoon via Internet at the office, so the only motivation for watching the repeat show last night was to gape at the dresses and jewellery. The Red Carpet segment came on Astro at 9 pm, and I was watching it with Mak while waiting for Hubby to come back from Isyak prayers at the mosque (I know, such 'hedonistic' pursuits while my other half communes with God). We were admiring Naomi Watts' dress when she was asked how long it took to put the whole thing together and she replied, "Oh, a few hours, with a bit of stitching here and there."
Mak's response to that was, "What if she needs to pee?"
Maybe they stitch in a super-absorbent scented adult diaper in as well.
Monday, 6 March 2006
LRT Laments
Reading this post on Ubi's blog reminded me of one time I took the LRT when I was pregnant with Nuaim. The carriage was quite full, being after-office peak hours and all, so no seats were available. I stood facing a not-so-young but still healthy looking man, my big tummy almost invading his personal space. Standing next to me was a young lady. After a couple of minutes, still no one offered me a seat, and I was resigned to having to stand all the way back to Kelana Jaya when the lady next to me addressed the man in a clear voice, "Uncle, this lady is pregnant."
Everyone must've heard her, so the guy sheepishly got off his seat and offered it to me.
But seriously, it's amazing how after all these years, we still have not figured out who should give up their seats to whom. Despite the 'Budi Bahasa Budaya Kita' campaigns on TV, which showcased a guy pretending to be asleep when an old woman, a pregnant lady and a blind man in turn embarked on the LRT, there are still people who blissfully ignore the sign above their heads that say 'Arent' We a Courteous Lot?'.
When I was studying in the UK, men would readily give up their seats to women, irrespective of whether she is pregnant, old, handicapped, carrying children/heavy bags or not. That's what they call chivalry, and it's not old-fashioned. In KL, it's a whole different world. Sometimes, I see a young couple sitting together, and I'm tempted to say to him that the way to a girl's heart is to act the chivalrous knight and offer pregnant me your seat. I don't know about the rest of the world, but I'd be mightily impressed with my guy if he did that. Hang on, if he didn't do that in the first place, he wouldn't be my guy at all.
Same goes with being courteous and polite to waiters/waitresses, cashiers and even public toilet cleaners. Of course it's their job to do all that stuff, and they do get paid, but there's nothing wrong with giving them a smile and a 'thank you' once in a while, is there?
One of my pet peeves is seeing people pay for stuff with their credit cards without even facing the cashier, as if it was beneath him/her to even lay eyes on the person working at the counter. If you're some rich Tan Sri's offspring with unlimited credit limit that's a different story, but most of the time the payer is just an ordinary Joe (in one real-life observation, the payer was a university student surviving on a $400 monthly overdraft facility). There's no need to behave so arrogantly - who knows, the person behind the cashier might be another university student like you, only working part-time, so at least he doesn't have to worry about paying off his monthly overdraft.
Everyone must've heard her, so the guy sheepishly got off his seat and offered it to me.
But seriously, it's amazing how after all these years, we still have not figured out who should give up their seats to whom. Despite the 'Budi Bahasa Budaya Kita' campaigns on TV, which showcased a guy pretending to be asleep when an old woman, a pregnant lady and a blind man in turn embarked on the LRT, there are still people who blissfully ignore the sign above their heads that say 'Arent' We a Courteous Lot?'.
When I was studying in the UK, men would readily give up their seats to women, irrespective of whether she is pregnant, old, handicapped, carrying children/heavy bags or not. That's what they call chivalry, and it's not old-fashioned. In KL, it's a whole different world. Sometimes, I see a young couple sitting together, and I'm tempted to say to him that the way to a girl's heart is to act the chivalrous knight and offer pregnant me your seat. I don't know about the rest of the world, but I'd be mightily impressed with my guy if he did that. Hang on, if he didn't do that in the first place, he wouldn't be my guy at all.
Same goes with being courteous and polite to waiters/waitresses, cashiers and even public toilet cleaners. Of course it's their job to do all that stuff, and they do get paid, but there's nothing wrong with giving them a smile and a 'thank you' once in a while, is there?
One of my pet peeves is seeing people pay for stuff with their credit cards without even facing the cashier, as if it was beneath him/her to even lay eyes on the person working at the counter. If you're some rich Tan Sri's offspring with unlimited credit limit that's a different story, but most of the time the payer is just an ordinary Joe (in one real-life observation, the payer was a university student surviving on a $400 monthly overdraft facility). There's no need to behave so arrogantly - who knows, the person behind the cashier might be another university student like you, only working part-time, so at least he doesn't have to worry about paying off his monthly overdraft.
Saturday, 25 February 2006
Change is Inevitable
A couple of weeks ago, I heard about some major drastic changes happening in my company.
Well, the official briefing finally took place about two weeks ago, on a fine Thursday afternoon at a five star hotel not 5 minutes away from the office (whatever the news, they never fail to have it somewhere classy). It started with a very short and quick explanation of a study that was performed at the Group's Corporate Level, and the result was that:
Well, the official briefing finally took place about two weeks ago, on a fine Thursday afternoon at a five star hotel not 5 minutes away from the office (whatever the news, they never fail to have it somewhere classy). It started with a very short and quick explanation of a study that was performed at the Group's Corporate Level, and the result was that:
- There'll be a new Research & Technology Division, with new units and subsidiaries.
- My company will be part of this division
- My company will exist only as a legal entity and not a live, breathing organisation. In other words, we're closing down.
That session was quickly followed by a presentation to show what would happen to our staff, and a session for all those 'steaming, burning questions'. This, I suppose, was the most long-awaited part of the briefing.
I had a lot of 'steaming, burning questions' myself. For one, I didn't quite get how they arrived at the conclusion that my company was no longer needed and would have to be scrapped, to be replaced by something that we've always been aspiring to be in the first place. I mean, there didn't seem to be any representative from the company in the study to defend our position. Did they even take into account that we were going through a sort of internal Transformation programme to make ourselves bigger and better? Did they consider other ways of dealing with the situation?
I didn't ask anything about the study because no one else seemed interested to know. At least, not during the Q&A session, although there were a lot of corridor talk later. Hmmm, mindset and behaviour still not changed, I suppose. Besides, it would have been for a purely academic reason. The decision has been made, nothing can change that. We can argue all sorts of angles but it would be just a waste of precious time when everyone seemed more concerned with their own future. If the briefing was held immediately after we all found out when we shouldn't have, it would probably have been a different atmosphere, a more emotional session. I had actually pictured myself ranting and raving with tears down my face, but three weeks on (including a week-long break) had rationalised everyone.
Everyone (including me) asked question centred around one theme, namely "What happens to me now?" As it turned out, even the questions that were asked didn't get a clear enough answer. I suppose there's no concrete plan yet, and having to deal with 900 employees (although almost two-thirds are not permanent staff and could be easily, coldly dismissed) of various situations is no easy feat.
My position seems secure, for now, but the company (or the 'Staff Re-deployment Task Force', to be more appropriate) could decide to just pull everyone out of the project before we complete it in 2009.
We'll just have to wait and see...
Sunday, 19 February 2006
Hush Little Baby...
Reading a book always puts me in a certain mood for writing. When I finished reading Vikram Seth's 'A Suitable Boy' three weeks after my third year finals, I was convinced that I should become a writer instead of an engineer. His style made it look so easy. I remember sitting in a train and describing the things happening around me, as if to set the background of the first chapter of my first great novel, but after 5 pages of just droning on about the engine and the passengers I realised my non-existent plot was nowhere near a short story for a school magazine, let alone the next Booker Prize.
I had borrowed Tash Aw's 'Harmony Silk Factory' from my youngest sister about a week ago. The first part of the book didn't particularly strike me as anything special - the narrative was simple, telling the story of Johnny Lim through the somewhat prejudiced viewpoint of his son, despite the fact that most of the events took place before his birth. It took me almost a week to finish it. When I started to read the second part, though, I began to see the brilliance associated with this first-time novelist. It's amazing how he is able to change his writing style, especially when you consider that the second narrative is the journal of Johnny Lim's wife, and you get to see Johnny in a totally different light. I was able to read the second and third parts of the book in less than 2 days (the fact that it's the weekend may have helped). One part of the book affected me deeply in particular - when Peter Wormwood sees Johnny cradling his sleeping two-year-old son at the train station. This was at the end of the book, which I had read about an hour ago, and which is partly why I am still awake at 1 a.m.
Descriptions of young children often get me into a really emotional state. When I read that passage, I pictured Nuaim as Jasper, his long lashes softly caressing his lower eyelids in sleep. Then when Jasper wakes up, I see Nuaim standing there, holding on as he looks around him, his right eye squinting against the bright light as he is wont to do before he groggily lays his head back onto the shoulders of whoever happens to be carrying him at the time. When I went to bed, I found Nuaim asleep, his arm thrown around Hubby's neck as their heads rest on the same pillow. Somehow, tonight I do not want to put him alone in his cot. Let him share the bed with us, his parents - he'd make his way in at some point anyway, like he does every night. As I tuck myself in, rearranging the pillows to make myself comfortable, I find myself engulfed by the strangest feeling, as if I was about to lose something precious and most dear to me. I realise, as the tears started streaming down my face, that it was Nuaim I was crying for.
It's silly really. I mean, he's not going anywhere at the moment, is he? He's just lying there on his stomach, occasionally murmuring something in his sleep as his chubby hands search for the corners of the pillowcase. Maybe it's because of the pregnancy, although I know that it's the same feeling I had when Nuaim was first introduced to the bottle at the age of three weeks, because apparently I couldn't produce enough breastmilk to satiate his hunger. At that time I knew that I had lost exclusive feeding rights to him, that I could no longer claim him all to myself, that he was no longer solely dependent on me for care and comfort. In public I'd jokingly complain about how he never wants to leave my side, always clinging on to my breast like some desperate lover, but secretly I revelled in the closeness, the bond that exists when your child draws succour from your own body. And yet even as I rejoiced at his development, his growth as he found his feet at 11 months and could walk, then run and climb, I dreaded the day when his feet would take him away from me, his newfound independence releasing him from my smothering embrace.
I suppose I am feeling guilty for not paying much attention to him earlier today (yesterday?). Hubby had gone to KL for a whole-day 'Kursus Pengurusan Jenazah', so he dropped us off at Mak's house in the morning. Mak was going for an overnight trip to Johor with her friend for a wedding, and I wanted to go pick up my repaired brooches and buy some toiletries at Jaya Jusco, so we left together. My brother dropped Mak off at her friend's in Subang Jaya, then sent me to One Utama before heading off to Taman Tun to run a few errands. I spent two hours at the shopping centre, alone, before my legs felt tired and my head started to feel heavy. By the time I got home, it was time for lunch and Nuaim was asleep. I spent the rest of the day watching TV and finishing the book, and Nuaim was left in the company of the maids. I know it was selfish of me, but I felt I deserved some 'me' time. Besides, I stil have a whole day tomorrow (or is it today now?) to spend with him, and I do need my rest, which is difficult to get with Nuaim.
And yet here I am, lamenting how my private moments with my firstborn have swiftly gone by, to be replaced soon with the arrival of another baby, with whom I shall be recreating scenes of crying fits and diaper changes throughout sleepless nights. Will I sing the same songs I used to sing to Nuaim in my attempts to cajole him to catch few winks? Will I still whisper the same words of advice, hoping he'll grow up to become a good Muslim, obedient to his parents, the way I did that one night during confinement when Nuaim just would not stop crying and ended up putting both Hubby and me in a terrible mood? Will I count his fingers in the same four languages as I did when Nuaim used to suck contented from my bosom? And what will Nuaim feel when he sees this new baby in my arms?
Or will I keep these memories only for Nuaim and myself, refusing to share them even with his sibling(s), instead creating new memories with different songs, different toys and different tactics (I'm still stuck with the ability to count in only four languages, and only from 1 to 10), even assigning different caregivers?
The tears have not stopped. But for tonight a least, I shall hold him tight in my arms and not let go.
I had borrowed Tash Aw's 'Harmony Silk Factory' from my youngest sister about a week ago. The first part of the book didn't particularly strike me as anything special - the narrative was simple, telling the story of Johnny Lim through the somewhat prejudiced viewpoint of his son, despite the fact that most of the events took place before his birth. It took me almost a week to finish it. When I started to read the second part, though, I began to see the brilliance associated with this first-time novelist. It's amazing how he is able to change his writing style, especially when you consider that the second narrative is the journal of Johnny Lim's wife, and you get to see Johnny in a totally different light. I was able to read the second and third parts of the book in less than 2 days (the fact that it's the weekend may have helped). One part of the book affected me deeply in particular - when Peter Wormwood sees Johnny cradling his sleeping two-year-old son at the train station. This was at the end of the book, which I had read about an hour ago, and which is partly why I am still awake at 1 a.m.
Descriptions of young children often get me into a really emotional state. When I read that passage, I pictured Nuaim as Jasper, his long lashes softly caressing his lower eyelids in sleep. Then when Jasper wakes up, I see Nuaim standing there, holding on as he looks around him, his right eye squinting against the bright light as he is wont to do before he groggily lays his head back onto the shoulders of whoever happens to be carrying him at the time. When I went to bed, I found Nuaim asleep, his arm thrown around Hubby's neck as their heads rest on the same pillow. Somehow, tonight I do not want to put him alone in his cot. Let him share the bed with us, his parents - he'd make his way in at some point anyway, like he does every night. As I tuck myself in, rearranging the pillows to make myself comfortable, I find myself engulfed by the strangest feeling, as if I was about to lose something precious and most dear to me. I realise, as the tears started streaming down my face, that it was Nuaim I was crying for.
It's silly really. I mean, he's not going anywhere at the moment, is he? He's just lying there on his stomach, occasionally murmuring something in his sleep as his chubby hands search for the corners of the pillowcase. Maybe it's because of the pregnancy, although I know that it's the same feeling I had when Nuaim was first introduced to the bottle at the age of three weeks, because apparently I couldn't produce enough breastmilk to satiate his hunger. At that time I knew that I had lost exclusive feeding rights to him, that I could no longer claim him all to myself, that he was no longer solely dependent on me for care and comfort. In public I'd jokingly complain about how he never wants to leave my side, always clinging on to my breast like some desperate lover, but secretly I revelled in the closeness, the bond that exists when your child draws succour from your own body. And yet even as I rejoiced at his development, his growth as he found his feet at 11 months and could walk, then run and climb, I dreaded the day when his feet would take him away from me, his newfound independence releasing him from my smothering embrace.
I suppose I am feeling guilty for not paying much attention to him earlier today (yesterday?). Hubby had gone to KL for a whole-day 'Kursus Pengurusan Jenazah', so he dropped us off at Mak's house in the morning. Mak was going for an overnight trip to Johor with her friend for a wedding, and I wanted to go pick up my repaired brooches and buy some toiletries at Jaya Jusco, so we left together. My brother dropped Mak off at her friend's in Subang Jaya, then sent me to One Utama before heading off to Taman Tun to run a few errands. I spent two hours at the shopping centre, alone, before my legs felt tired and my head started to feel heavy. By the time I got home, it was time for lunch and Nuaim was asleep. I spent the rest of the day watching TV and finishing the book, and Nuaim was left in the company of the maids. I know it was selfish of me, but I felt I deserved some 'me' time. Besides, I stil have a whole day tomorrow (or is it today now?) to spend with him, and I do need my rest, which is difficult to get with Nuaim.
And yet here I am, lamenting how my private moments with my firstborn have swiftly gone by, to be replaced soon with the arrival of another baby, with whom I shall be recreating scenes of crying fits and diaper changes throughout sleepless nights. Will I sing the same songs I used to sing to Nuaim in my attempts to cajole him to catch few winks? Will I still whisper the same words of advice, hoping he'll grow up to become a good Muslim, obedient to his parents, the way I did that one night during confinement when Nuaim just would not stop crying and ended up putting both Hubby and me in a terrible mood? Will I count his fingers in the same four languages as I did when Nuaim used to suck contented from my bosom? And what will Nuaim feel when he sees this new baby in my arms?
Or will I keep these memories only for Nuaim and myself, refusing to share them even with his sibling(s), instead creating new memories with different songs, different toys and different tactics (I'm still stuck with the ability to count in only four languages, and only from 1 to 10), even assigning different caregivers?
The tears have not stopped. But for tonight a least, I shall hold him tight in my arms and not let go.
Wednesday, 15 February 2006
Temporarily Empty Nest
It had rained yesterday afternoon, and I had had an after-work appointment with an insurance consultant who was going like a bullet train, she gave me such a hard time to interject and ask questions (is this common to all insurance consultants/ sales people in general?). Anyway, by the time we reached Mak's house, it was just in time for Maghrib and dinner.
It was Mak's turn to have a 'Kutu' gathering yesterday, which usually means lots of good stuff to eat. As it turned out, the menu was 'Nasi Dagang Terengganu' (the beras pulut version) with kerutuk ayam, gulai udang and gulai ikan tongkol. There was also pengat pisang for dessert. I would have also sampled the rojak pasembor, but by then it had gone off a bit so I'll have to satisfy my craving for it some other day.
Anyway, after a satisfying meal, Maghrib prayers and generally just lounging about (as anyone is wont to do when they go back to their parents' house), we decided to call it a night and head back home around 9 p.m. Nuaim, however, had other ideas. When I told him we were leaving, instead of heading towards the door as he normally does, he went to Mak instead, pushing me away and saying, "Bye Bye, Ummi!"
I thought he was just joking then, but when I told Hubby and we both called out to him, he just totally ignored us and started getting Mak to play Hide-and-Seek with him instead. Oh well, I thought, if you want to stay the night at your grandma's house it's fine with me. At least I'll be able to get a good night's sleep and my nipples would be spared from mutilation by a 20-month-old toddler's very sharp teeth (yes, at his age and my pregnancy, Nuaim still insists on being breastfed to sleep!).
As we drove into our carpark, Hubby commented, "It's so quiet."
By the time we were back in the condo, it was a relief to be able to totally relax and do the whole wash-tone-moisturise face-cleansing routine without Nuaim crying for attention, but only temporarily. Before long, we found ourselves filling the silence with anecdotes of Nuaim's amusing antics in the past few days.
So this is what it feels like when the children have left. And it was only for one night...
Oh, BTW, it's high time I put a picture of this little adorable monster on the blog. Maybe I'm biased, being his mother and all that, but you tell me, how can you resist such an angel?
It was Mak's turn to have a 'Kutu' gathering yesterday, which usually means lots of good stuff to eat. As it turned out, the menu was 'Nasi Dagang Terengganu' (the beras pulut version) with kerutuk ayam, gulai udang and gulai ikan tongkol. There was also pengat pisang for dessert. I would have also sampled the rojak pasembor, but by then it had gone off a bit so I'll have to satisfy my craving for it some other day.
Anyway, after a satisfying meal, Maghrib prayers and generally just lounging about (as anyone is wont to do when they go back to their parents' house), we decided to call it a night and head back home around 9 p.m. Nuaim, however, had other ideas. When I told him we were leaving, instead of heading towards the door as he normally does, he went to Mak instead, pushing me away and saying, "Bye Bye, Ummi!"
I thought he was just joking then, but when I told Hubby and we both called out to him, he just totally ignored us and started getting Mak to play Hide-and-Seek with him instead. Oh well, I thought, if you want to stay the night at your grandma's house it's fine with me. At least I'll be able to get a good night's sleep and my nipples would be spared from mutilation by a 20-month-old toddler's very sharp teeth (yes, at his age and my pregnancy, Nuaim still insists on being breastfed to sleep!).
As we drove into our carpark, Hubby commented, "It's so quiet."
By the time we were back in the condo, it was a relief to be able to totally relax and do the whole wash-tone-moisturise face-cleansing routine without Nuaim crying for attention, but only temporarily. Before long, we found ourselves filling the silence with anecdotes of Nuaim's amusing antics in the past few days.
So this is what it feels like when the children have left. And it was only for one night...
Oh, BTW, it's high time I put a picture of this little adorable monster on the blog. Maybe I'm biased, being his mother and all that, but you tell me, how can you resist such an angel?
