Reminiscing Bergy

There was a tribute to Dennis Bergkamp in The Daily Telegraph that was reprinted in The Star today. Reading it reminded me of the times in England when I visited Highbury or Wembley to watch Arsenal play. You could feel a tingle in the air whenever the ball got to his feet, like magic was about to happen. And invariably it did.

I first knew of Dennis Bergkamp when he was transfered from Inter Milan to Arsenal in the summer of 1995. At the time, I had just started going out with a hardcore football fan(atic) who idolised Bergy, so naturally I picked up on his hobbies and passions. I broke up with the bloke in 2001, but my relationship with Arsenal and Dennis Bergkamp endured till marriage and family commitments took over.

I hardly watch the football matches now, due to the inconvenient broadcast times in Malaysia, but I still catch up on their fortunes through the newspapers and football gossip at the office. Then today I stumbled upon this YouTube video clip which starts with my favourite Bergkamp goal ever. Watch it and tell me you're not amazed.

Thank you, Dennis. It was a great pleasure - no, a great HONOUR to have watched you play.

Ich bin Conehead

This morning, while Kak Yam was applying the pilis to my forehead, she noted that my hairline was coneshaped, with the sides low and tapering to a high point in the middle.

"Dahimu sempit di bahagian tepi. Ini tanda orangnya sensitif. Kalau salah cakap sikit saja sudah ambil hati. (Your forehead is narrow at the sides - that's a sign you're a sensitive person. You can easily get hurt by words)."

Oh, how true. Like Hubby told me yesterday, I'm so emo.

"Tapi di tengah ini tinggi. Kalau kena gayanya, Dian layan dengan baik. (But the middle is high. If treated properly, you reciprocate with kindness)."

So there you have it, people. if you want me to be nice, then BE NICE.

Ich bin Perfectionist

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia:

Perfectionism, in psychology, is a belief that perfection can and should be attained. In its pathological form, it is a belief that anything less than perfect is unacceptable. At pathological levels, this is considered an unhealthy belief.

I probably am one. You see, I have rules of thumb in folding clothes. It's very simple really, and the result is my clothes stack better and I can find them easily. T-shirts, shirts and blouses are folded in half lengthwise; trousers, baju kurung and full length skirts are folded in thirds; full length dresses or robes folded to a quarter of the original length. It really freaks me out when they're folded any other way, so much so that I'll actually refold the clothes. This annoys Hubby somewhat, especially when it's him who did the original folding. Of course guys just don't get it do they? And you know what? My method is actually correct. There's a website to prove it. I bet even Martha Stewart would approve.

I also used to be a pain-in-the-A$% perfectionist when it comes to work, but I've learnt that people and projects appreciate schedule before quality, unless there is something seriously wrong with the work. There used to be a time when I wouldn't even start on anything until I really had all the information needed and knew exactly what to deliver, but then I realised other people didn't care half as much as I did and still they got away scots-free. I have not quite reduced my perfectionist streak by half yet, but I think I'm getting there.

And yet, doesn't that mean I'm compromising on my own basic principles - to always give better than my best? I think it was my former Music teacher in secondary school who said that, way back in 1992. And it's something I've always held on to and believed in. But sometimes it's just so damn tiring, isn't it? Especially when things still don't seem to work out (this seems to be de riguer in raising my children) no matter how much you've tried, or you see other people getting the same reward or better by putting in what, to your standards, are only mediocre performances. There must be something else missing, some sort of blessing or spiritual connection with God that I lack. I know I certainly lack in performing amal ibadah, and sometimes that euphoric feeling people get from prayers or reading the Qur'an is absent in me. Maybe I'm just too preoccupied with the material world - not in the sense of being materialistic, but just too involved in getting material issues resolved.

The first couple of months after coming back from Haj earlier this year, I did feel a certain calmness in facing the storms at the office. I literally took everything in my stride, believing firmly that things will work out in the end, that there's no reason to panic, just think things through calmly, plan and implement accordingly. However, things seemed to just disintegrate on its own. I ended up doing so much fire-fighting, and in the end even all that effort came to nothing as something else beyond my control got screwed up.

What really counts, the end or the means - even if you don't quite reach the end you wanted? If you've squeezed every effort you can and exerted every ounce of patience and perseverance you have (which may not be much in the first place) and still your kids end up an unruly lot, are you a bad parent? Is it possible to be perfect in everything - the perfect wife, mother, employee, manager, friend and spiritual creature? If it came to a compromise, which one takes top priority?

Sometimes I think I should just concentrate on doing what I do best. Unfortunately, currently my best performance is in terms of my career. So I spend more time at the office instead of at home, because there I'm dealing with just facts and figures, words and numbers, images on a computer screen or on a piece of paper. Things I can control and manipulate.

Unlike people. I don't even know where to start in dealing with them.

Sometimes I think I'm doing the right thing, but the receiving end doesn't think so. Which makes it even more difficult for me to become the perfect wife, mother and daughter. Hence it looks like I place higher priority over my work than anything else.

It's not true though.

I'm just trying to do better than my best. But maybe even that isn't good enough.

The Boys are back in (Star) Town

Hubby, Nuaim and Nu'man are off to Alor Star tonight, and they'll be back with Mama and Bapak on Friday in time for Aiesyah's aqiqah on Saturday morning. In fact they should have left on the 7.50 MAS flight but it was delayed. I hope Hubby is surviving well with those two commandos. The last I heard from him, they were still at the departure hall at 8.05 pm, and I could hear Nu'man yapping away in the background. They're probably already up in the air by now.

I'll miss my boys, but I'll also make full use of the opportunity to watch TV as much as I can, since Nuaim's not hogging it with repeats of 'Madagascar' on DVD for the next two days. And to start with, we have Yasmin Ahmad's 'Mukhsin' on TV3 at 9.00 p.m!

My Day-to-day Confinement Regime

7.15 a.m - Aiesyah wakes up for breakfast. If I'm lucky, she doesn't get up till 8.00 a.m.

7.30 a.m - I pester Hubby to go fetch the specially prepared air teresak (hot water boiled with some fragrant leaves and kaffir limes) for my morning bath. My daily outfit is a buttoned shirt (to aid in breastfeeding), a batik sarong and socks to prevent 'wind' from entering my feet.

7.45 a.m - Have breakfast myself, consisting of two slices of bread, hot Milo and a small glass of yellow-orange jamu. Cannot have eggs due to stitches.

8.00 a.m - Kak Yam, an Indonesian midwife, arrives for my daily urut (massage) and barut (abdominal wrap) session. Kak Yam is also the person who prepared the jamu, a traditional concoction of herbs, turmeric and other stuff designed to return the post-natal female form to pre-pregnancy bootyliciousness (one can hope). She uses a massage oil derived from young coconut, and after a good one hour rub she'll proceed to apply pilis (herbal paste) to my forehead. This helps to get rid of 'wind' and prevent darah putih (white blood cells?) from entering the head, thus causing headaches and poor vision (a bit too late where my vision is concerned). Apparently reading during post-natal confinement can bring the same effects, but that doesn't stop me.

Kak Yam will also apply a paste consisting of ground herbs, kaffir lime juice and I think ground limestone to my abdomen before wrapping it up in a bengkung/barut. The first layer barut is a piece of cloth, the same width as my abdomen, with strings on either side that are tied across my tummy. The second layer is a long piece of cloth, about 12 m long, that Kak Yam wraps and twists tightly over the first layer, from my buttocks way up to just under my chest. It works very much like a corset really, complete with the forcified erect posture and breathing difficulty.

I'm supposed to keep the second bengkung on till at least 8 p.m., while the first layer stays on till the next day. By the time I take it off, the paste has dried and flaked, and my skin feels all raw and itchy.

In the meantime, Cik Dah gives Aiesyah a waterbath and takes her sunbathing. The morning sun helps to prevent jaundice, and after the session Aiesyah comes back in looking red as a lobster.

10.00 a.m - Kak Yam packs up, and I get to read, play Sudoku and blog/websurf to my heart's content. Or I may just take a nap (depending on how much sleep I get the night before).

10.30 a.m - I take a mid-morning snack, usually some cream crackers and another cup of Milo, to make sure that I don't go too hungry and get any 'wind' trapped in my stomach.

1.00 p.m - Lunch for me consists of half a plate of rice, grilled ikan selar or ikan gelama, a vegetable dish (of the non-cooling variety) cooked with lots of garlic, ginger and no oil, a dry sambal made of black peppercorns and some ulam - typically bittergourd, pegaga, ulam raja and daun selom. I wash it all down with an infusion of dried Chinese red dates. This diet is supposed to restore blood circulation, prevent wind and help me produce breastmilk. Chinese radish apparently works too.






4.00 p.m - My tea-break consists again of crackers and a cup of hot Milo. If I'm good, I get some nice juicy orange slices too.

7.00 p.m - Dinner is served, consisting of a similar menu to lunch. Sometimes I get free-range organic chicken instead of fish, which is a nice change. Of course, it is either steamed, grilled or made into soup. Nothing fried or oily for me.

8.00 p.m - I get to take off the long wrap. Hooray, I can breathe again!

10.00 p.m - I get ready for bed, but so far I've been stayng up till almost midnight. Last night was worse - I couldn't sleep till after feeding Aiesyah at 3 a.m!

3.00 a.m - Aiesyah usually wakes up for a feed and a diaper change. I usually pester Hubby to do the latter for me, citing my confinement as an excuse. According to Malay custom, during the pantang period of 40-44 days, the new mother is supposed to restrict her movements. In some cases she's not even supposed to get out of bed in the first week!

So far Aiesyah hasn't caused too much trouble. She sleeps most of the day, getting up only to feed about three or four times or when her diaper gets too dirty for her. Sometimes she'll poo-poo away in her sleep but continues with her slumber. It makes for interesting noises during the night.

P/S I get a treat tonight - sira pisang!

Spiffy Spaceman

Came across this post today. Must read item for profound hilarity.

I was rooting for Kapt Dr Faiz Khaleed, the military dentist, by the way. Maybe he'll get a stint on the Mars mission. And now they're planning a search for his back-up crew? Why not just select someone from the previous Top 4?

By the way, notice any similarities between these two?

Eid Mubarak 1428H

To all fellow Muslims, I wish you all Selamat Hari Raya Aidil Fitri, Maaf Zahir & Batin.

... and to my sister,

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CIK AZIM!!!