crossroads

have thrown self back into the whole designing the kitchen business after a minor setback last year.

proper calculations and decisions will have to be made, and soon.

i hate this.

running to stand still (part 2)

am in a rut as far as my exercise regime is going (yoga twice a week is not enough anymore…), so drastic measures had to be made.

therose and i went to bukit kiara on sunday (and huffed and puffed our way to the nearest paper tosei shop after), and decided to go to the klcc park today.

have never really gone this early (6 pm) but am tired of staying cooped up in the office, looking across at the back of someone’s bald head in total futility.

so off we went and the weather was absolutely beautiful, blue skies with a light breeze.

and lots of interesting people too (i always walk/run counter to the crowd – the better way to watch people!).

as if in response to my unanswered prayers re: mr sexy, there was yet another bald kinda cute chinese looking guy running with his group of friends (i think am going through a phase here).

who kept looking and smiling at me (in a friendly non-creepy way) every single time our paths crossed (about 2-3 times per loop).

they stopped before we did, and he disappeared after his cooling down session, so i thought that was that.

then as i was paying my parking ticket i saw him drive by, and he saw me, and raised his hand, smiled and waved.

and i smiled and waved back.

so guess where i am going to be next tuesday at 6pm?

alone

“there is a certain dignity in being alone”*.

this flashed through my mind during lunch, when i was left to my own devices as both my normal lunch buddies had other agendas.

as always, at times like these i would seek refuge in my favourite sushi bar/thai eatery. i don’t mind eating alone, and most times relish the thought of not having to follow someone else’s budget or taste buds or make small conversation. just some quiet time by myself.

i am not brave enough to not have anything else to do while i have my solo meal, and so would either have the newspaper or a book to read, or continue with my letter to s (usually in a ratty envelope that needs to be replaced just before posting).

whenever i come by myself, my favourite waitress would ask, “yang lain takde hari ni?” (“the others are not here today?”).

today however, i broke the record.

two different waitresses (my favourite waitress wasn’t around) and a total stranger (or possibly someone who works around the area but whose face i cannot place) walking breezily past the kaiten belt said to me “sorang saja hari ni?” (“all alone today?”).

yes that’s me, all alone, all by my lonesome.

no hubby to cook for, no baby to take care off, no parents to please (they have gone balik kampong today), no boyfriend to make impromptu lunch plans with, no friend or colleague around to tell jokes or exchange weekend stories.

just me myself and i.

for a few seconds it felt good.

it’s partly a realisation that there are people who notice when i am by myself, which means that me being alone is a seemingly rare occurrence for them to have to ask.

but i know myself.

self pity will sink in very soon.

so stand way back.

(* as said by janet fonda’s character in the movie “singles”. or was it smilla jaspersen in miss smilla’s feeling for snow?)

weirdly wired

a tag from miss j.

the rules: each player of this game starts with the "6 weird things about you". people who get tagged need to write a blog of their own 6 weird things as well as state this rule clearly. in the end, you need to choose 6 people to be tagged and list their names.

here goes:

wierdness #1:
i add numbers all the time (a throw back from secondary school days) and am happy when they add up to 9 or 10. my birthdate adds up to 10. my old car plate number adds up to 9 (and makes up 4/6 of my atm pin number). mr sexy’s car plate number is ¾ of my old car plate number, adds up to 9 as well and is now therefore keyed in everytime i withdraw money : )

wierdness #2:
i cannot eat nasi lemak or nasi goreng with my hands. i just can’t. i have to use fork and spoon.

wierdness #3:
i still write letters. long ones. especially to my english penpal of 22 years. even though we are on email, and occasionally ym. it’s cleansing to write all your fears, troubles and longings onto paper, seal it and post it, and know that one other person in the world knows about it.

wierdness #4:
i don’t drink while i’m eating. somewhere along the line, my dad said this would make us fat or something. so there is never water on the table when we eat as a family, except when we have guests.

wierdness #5:
i still remember the address of another penpal i had when i was 14 even though we stopped writing around 1986 or 87. it's (number withheld), donnington road, shipston-on-stour, warwickshire cv364bg, england. her name was marie anne hrynczak, and she was half russian (don’t bother googling, she’s not there). i don’t think i will ever forget that address.

wierdness #6:
i have a dream house that i show to all my new friends and colleagues. i have no idea who stays there. it’s a single storey bungalow on the corner of jalan ampang hilir and jalan ritchie, has a huge compound with a circular driveway, lots of big old trees and a chimney or two. sigh.

i don’t know 6 people to tag, but what the heck, here’s 5 (they probably wont do it anyway):

des
halva
chocolalat
kudo
fazu

go nuts.

my life as a michelle branch video

yes, you know the one. if you don’t, this is the one i mean.


on restless days i find myself drinking more water so i have an excuse to leave the room and come back and see mr sexy across (without actually craning my neck turning around to see).

i talk on my handphone near the window as well even though i have perfect reception right at my table.

after ten years of working, almost always alone in the office, when everyone else had gone home and all the rooms and windows opposite are dark, it’s nice to see the glow of another lit room and actually see another person.

yesterday he was working harder than usual (in quite early and there until very late, hardly left the room), and ignoring me (as usual).

i decided to call it a day and started to pack, and, hope dwindling, stole a glance anyway, and, lo and behold, he was looking right at me.

i panicked and looked away.

ok it was across a distance of almost 50 feet, and he was probably just checking to see if he remembered to close the window, but let me fantasise a bit, will ya?

am bribing my colleague to check on the name of the company today.

(gawd i need a life)

switching religions

ok, maybe not, but changing hairdressers can be a painful process.

after the last visit to the hairdresser in tmn tun i decided he really wasn’t doing it for me anymore. any man who insists i straighten my curly hair constantly really does not deserve my time let alone custom.

so i tried someone new.

he took one look at my tired tresses and knew immediately what to do.

as he cut off almost 4 inches of my hair in parts, my heart would stop.

it’s now layered and the curls go off everywhere. time to ditch straightening taming creams and invest in soft curl enhancing products again (and get re-acquainted with my hair diffuser).

this hairdresser may be for keeps. haven’t felt that one understood my hair completely since my lovely callum.

oxymoronic as it may sound, it feels strangely liberating to not be able to control my hair and let it run wild.

then again, as alice walker says, oppressed hair puts a ceiling on the brain

berbagi suami / love for share

.. is the title of the indonesian movie i saw with therose on friday night, about polygamy, and how it affects the women.

my first introduction to polygamy was when my uncle took a second wife. all i remember were the tears, lots and lots of tears, and the feeling of complete and utter helplessness we all felt, rallying around my aunt when we heard.

there was nothing that any of us could do; it was already done.

i was probably eight years old.

consciously or subconsciously, that incident shaped my decision to never ever get involved with a married man.

at the root of everything was the thought that, i couldn’t do that to another woman.

i have also always wondered how polygamy affected the children, especially the males. would they treat women with more respect, or less? would they be like their fathers, or vow never to be like them?

the first story (there’s three) in this movie at least provides an insight (and a happy one, that i share) (oh, and the actor is kinda cute too).

the other two stories are equally interesting (the second one has a twist), though by the time you get to the third story it’s all said and done.

not to be seen on a friday night when you are tired; see it on a weekend afternoon, and discuss it over coffee after.

better still, watch it with a guy.

it’s a new year?

its 7.30 pm and am still at the office on a friday night. 2007 is beginning to be non-distinguishable from 2006.

must get a life. and exercise more. must must must.

and not scrimp on warm up/cool down sessions lest we suffer leg pains like today. idiot.

…………

fazu if you are reading this, was at kl tower earlier today, and went to take a peek at the second locked gate; they now have two bars on top of that gate which actually would make it easier to climb. next time, eh?

…………

oh, and mr sexy is back, and presently across.

: )

the first and last

an early morning on sunday (there’s no other kind at kampong), off to the masjid for raya prayers, head back home for lemang and rending and kari, and then dad bro and mum went to help with the qurban, yours truly had grocery shopping duties for the bbq later that nite.

bought rahim razali’s abang at the supermarket (dvd, no less!)

watched with cousin while chopping up stuff for coleslaw and preparing bbq marinade.

hammered qurban meat with my rm16.90 h meat hammer bought earlier.

off to bbq at aunt’s, stuffed self silly, received new year messages but didn’t have time to reply them, quick cleanup session and back to the house to catch star wars episode 3 (which was how i celebrated the new year).

..............................................

spent new year’s day having a very early breakfast, outside the house on the car porch, after which we trudged along to the old kampong house to have a look and take pics.

it was sad to see the house abandoned and overgrown with weeds.

there is the place i would take my outside shower in the old old days, it looks so very small now.

there is the route to the river on those wonderful trips when the water level was so low my dad could carry us on his back in the water to the little island in the middle of the river where we would play on the river bed itself (the same route, with normal water levels and at night when you really really needed to *go* can be terrifying).

there is the beam from which every baby born in the extended family would have his or her makeshift “buai” (baby swing made of a strung up sarong).

over there, the corner where my granddad would open up durian after durian after durian until we were so stuffed we couldn’t move.

there is the back porch facing the river, there the back stairs where countless pictures, generations back were taken.

and dusty old calendars everywhere, all for the year 1995.

the year my grandmother and youngest uncle passed away.

after that there were no more calendars.

and the house itself died.

..........................................

after, we played boggle at my aunt’s place, with players age ranging between 11 to 38.

emergency call from mum, get yer butts back home and help prepare lunch.

big yet simple lunch with everything from leftover lemang, rending and kari to tilapia cili to some unknown leafy concoction by aunt, sambal and leftover veggies.

laze about a bit, then went off to town to get some ice cream for everyone, then to another aunt’s place for tea and dinner.

sleep.

life goes on.

balik kampong - in pictures