7th in 7

am shivering with anticipation.

have you pre-ordered yours yet?

going nuts

* nuts from no.1 mixed nuts cocktail. helluva much more macadamia nuts than the ones used last year for chocchipcookies.

it seemed like a great idea.

to distract oneself from major distraction#1 (which one can never ever have), invest some time in distraction#2, with minidistraction#3 on the side.

minidistraction#3 served its purpose, albeit too briefly, with not much room for manouvre (for now).

distraction#2 however, dredged up from a more vulnerable time and completely unexpected, has threatened to engulf one whole if unchecked.

one is now distracted to bits.

great.

... and justice for all

main entrance, palace of justice, putrajaya, 10.40 am, 26 september 2007.
















front steps, 11.45 am

boulevard, 12.30pm





















pm's office, 12.40 pm

end of an era

it stops.

right now.

wake me up when september ends

not only is this my birthday month (aarrggh!!), it also seems to be the busiest by far (i have work coming out of my ears) as well as being the start of ramadan in less than 2 weeks.

miss j (to whom i seem to have donated my cold, sorry luv!), mr and baby j have come and gone, and i keep expecting them to turn up again in a couple of weeks’ time (and do everything we didn’t get to do, at a slower pace); it seems a bit unreal now that they were even here.

i want to post more pics/stories up but they will have to wait.

in the meantime, here’s one of my absolute favourites, of me, miss j and baby j (well, more baby j really!) at mcdonalds klia.

i miss you guys!!!

when will they ever learn

the day didn’t start out very well, with the boss’ text at 6.40 am saying he couldn’t join her for the early meeting.

'crucified' is probably too strong a word, but the meeting definitely could have gone better.

in need of a good cheering up, she prays he will be around after two days of complete absence, please please please …

and sees his car in the basement, and gives silent thanks to the powers that be.

as she heads for the lift she notices that familiar head (in need of another clean shave), at the ground floor restaurant, alone, facing the other way.

halfway to the lift, she stops and turns back.

what the hell.

and walks past him to the sundry shop next door to get the chocolate milk she didn’t need, checked her hair in the shop mirror, takes a deep breath, and walks back past him.

looks up to see him looking at her, and smiles (des - the “hi” unfortunately got stuck in her throat).

and he smiles back.

___________________

hang on, i had three weeks to do what exactly?

he ain't heavy ...

... he's my nephew.

well ok, he is quite heavy.

heheh.

mencuri khayalan denganmu

i now know his full name.

it's ironic that i (already) had part of it in one of my earlier posts.

and what a strangely fitting name it is, under the circumstances.

fazu tried to demystify the whole thing yesterday (thanks luv).

and miss j will am sure try to sort me out over cakes this afternoon.

let's hope the combined effort (plus some of mine) will wean me off this unhealthy obsession once and for all (admitting it is a first step, no?), by, say, my birthday.

which means i have less than 3 weeks.

arrk.

for tonight at last ..

the last time i tried to foist u2 on anyone was 18 years ago.

considering that it was in a dorm of 18 girls of extremely varied backgrounds (not to mention states - and dialects - from all over the country), the fact that it failed spectacularly wasn’t what was surprising; what was astonishing was the fact that i even tried.

it wasn’t an easy album to introduce to people when you are that age, when other people were listening to bubble gum pop music.

but then i digress.

a more appropriate song here would probably be sudirman’s balik kampong, for sure.

if only for the malay language and sheer cheesiness of it all.

but ‘balik kampong’ to me means going to my parents’ hometown, a visit which happens maybe 4- 5 times a year.

and as enjoyable as it can be, it doesn’t (for me) capture what i’m trying to say.

for me, even for something as simple as driving back home on friday or other nights at the end of a long week/day, this is the only song i sing (if only at times for the last two lines..):

mr, ms and baby j, have a safe trip, and babe, welcome home.

__________

postscript:

met up with papabear mamabear and babybear (who was asleep but woke up for a few seconds to smile oh so very sweetly at everyone and immediately went back to sleep) this evening, but not before meeting up with fazubear for lunch.

big big hugs to and from two dearest people i haven't seen for almost a year.

and since i am quoting u2 songs this week ~ it's a beautiful day : )

_____

post postscript:

hardly surprising then that at this time on this day in 1993 i was at wembley stadium at - but of course - a u2 concert.

back to reality

did i have a good holiday?

i can’t really say. i didn’t even take that many pictures.

my body is tired and my neck aches like crazy.

and i didn’t really enjoy my dives; one: because visibility was crap, and two: after not being in the sea for 4 months my buoyancy was also crap, and i ascended uncontrollably when we were in the shallows in dives #2 and #3 and couldn’t for the life of me go back down.

sigh.

salang is a party beach and quite frankly it’s not for me (nor, am beginning to think, is tioman).

but it was good to be away from the office regardless, and bond a bit with the rest outside of it.

the best laugh i had the entire trip was courtesy of my colleague, who, upon seeing our bus driver on the ride back immediately asked of me, did you specifically order him??

the driver looked like a personal bodyguard and more importantly - had a beautifully shaven head.

and my seat was in the front row.

yum.

______________

i was going to take a picture of the setting sun in between the palm trees but these two (the dive master's nieces) had other ideas:

take me to the beach

off to tioman tomorrow night for a mini company get-away.

it’s been a shitty few weeks and am glad to be able to get away (though the work frenzy leading up to being away from office one extra day is taking its toll).

haven’t been on treadmill in ages, or able to run at the park due to rain and yoga is off the whole week coz instructor had an appendectomy.

so it will be an extra extra blobby me at the beach.

it’s a losing battle.

time to stock up on them m&m’s (thank god bulan puasa is coming soon!).

i do hope i still remember how to dive.

my virgin wetsuit wants to go for a swim.

: )

the sheep sheep song

it’s all related.
am reading haruki murakami’s a wild sheep chase (less than quarter of an inch left), and just started terry pratchett’s the wee free men (so far so good!) which has little blue men stealing sheep; cleaned up my room last sunday (only got as far as my bookcase) and the only thing i could not fit back in after rearrangements was a galvanised metal bucket with two sheep fridge magnets on it (made from real sheep wool) that i got at st kilda market in melbourne, and the present room&board furniture am lusting after is the chelsea sectional which has angora in it.

baaaaaaaaaaaaa!

(well ok angora wool is from rabbit but angora hair is also from the angora goat which is kinda the same. errr, almost)

improvements

before i could write the stern email to dwell, my july/august magazine arrived yesterday, choc full of goodies. am gobbling on july/august and september in one go and feel totally greedy.

also yesterday, boss mentioned in an email the “P” word, to be discussed soon.

and when i told him later i am not moving down, he laughed and said, why, because of anything in the opposite block?

ackk (yes boss vaguely knows of existence of mrsexy).

_____________

went home early yesterday, for fear of an eye infection, but needn’t have worried.

the doctor said it’s not an infection, but more likely stress and work related.

he told me to “take it slow”.

during the entire time he was telling me this he had his own eyes closed (??).

and so i got home in time for dinner with my parents, and was in bed by 11 (“resting” my eyes on my book, uninterrupted for almost an hour).

lovely.

caught

she changes into her yoga outfit and gets ready to leave for class and, in a bid to appear nonchalant (as if actions can ever truly mirror and dictate feelings), picks up her bag and knapsack and leaves the room without looking back.

but old habits are hard to break, and obsessions even harder still.

and as she closes the door the 12 year old in her nevertheless decides to peek over the edge for one last glimpse.

only to find him looking straight back at her.

shite.

dwelling on (my) dwell(ing)

i love this magazine.

i even love the paper it’s printed on, especially the cover (matte paper is soo sexy).

so much so that i decided to subscribe to it.

that was way back in early june.

and my july/august dwell magazine subscription is not here yet.

i was going to write a stern email to them when this morning i noticed a nice chunky parcel in my inbox which was not the least bit work related.

yay!.

my delight however was cut short when, on closer inspection it turns out they have (already) sent me the september issue.

what happened to july/august??

stern email will be sent out after all, then.

grrrrr.

___________________


it’s probably not healthy looking at foreign magazines when you are doing up your house, because you end up hankering after things you can’t have.

right now i want this bed from room&board.














msj, you sure you don’t have space to bring it back for me??

___________________

am getting back into the mood for my house/kitchen (part 3966).

it is therefore a bit worrying that my favourite colour of the moment – for walls, kitchen cabinets, sofa, bed linen, etc. - is one that my sister and i term “SLUDGE”.

must take great care not to end up with a house looking like downtown kl after the recent flash floods.

___________________


in grave danger of getting the red kenwood pattisier after all (to brighten up the kitchen, you understand).

heaven help me.

paolo oh paolo

it doesn’t happen often that msj and i like the same songs/singers, apart from “special ones” our theme men-are-bastards-i-can-do-and-deserve-so-much-better-song from ozzie outfit “george” and also apart from the normal “pop” songs you can’t really avoid on the radio.

and despite forking out RM 104.95 each month to astro i don’t really watch tv/mtv that much (which makes my 3 hour CSI marathon on sundays cost me on average of RM 8.75 per episode) and would only know what singers/groups look like months or even years later.

but i find myself listening to paolo nutini’s song new shoes yesterday about 20 times as linked from msj’s blog.

and googled the lad to find out that not only is he 20 (and cute), he is scottish of italian descent and can actually sing live (and looks damn good doing it).

a cross between james blunt and david gray, if you like.

so here’s some choice acoustic songs from paolo:

autumn

rewind
these streets

did i mention he is cute?

enjoy!

up where we belong

i was born in east malaysia.

in kota kinabalu sabah, in fact.

a few months after that we moved back to kuala lumpur (or was it pj?), a short stint in alor star, back to kl, then to quetta, pakistan for a year, melaka, seremban, and then to kl again.

by the time i was 11, we had moved about 9 times and i had been to 3 different schools, 4 if you count my nursery in quetta, where, at 3 ½ years old, i didn’t know anyone and didn’t speak any english and would cry if my mom didn’t sneak away fast enough undetected.

the last move from kl to the present house was the worst.

i had by then made good friends – our stay in kl just prior to the move was the longest we had stayed anywhere since i was born.

and what was to be my senior year at primary school ruling the roost with friends, never happened.

once again, i was the new kid on the block.

uprooted without consultation.

each time, i would suffer from what i now refer to as the “first day of school” syndrome, that feeling of deepening sickening anxiety coupled with a sensation like a growing lump in my throat and an absurd feeling of wanting to burst into tears at the slightest provocation.

i have been having the very same feeling recently since i sent that inquiring text to my boss and got his reply that i could move down, and had put it down to the impending loss of my perfect view of mrsexy.

but the truth is its not (all) about him.

i have moved before in this office, from the middle room to a different spot in the middle room, to the back room, and to this front one, without any qualms whatsoever.

each time however, the move had been to a better place, and i didn’t feel the slightest bit sick.

but this time it’s different.

i really like my room now.

it’s a proper room with a door that i can leave open and embrace all the goings-ons and banter outside, or keep closed and cut out all sounds from the rest of the office if need be, and play my songs on the pc speakers without disturbing anyone.

from my chair i can see the blue sky outside in the mornings, and the threat of rain in the afternoons.

i can open the blinds and let sunshine in through my two little windows without effecting everyone else; i can open the windows and feel the breeze on my face or smell the rain and when i need a break, roll my chair to the windows or just chill and watch the world go by (and sneak a peak at mrsexy).

i control what i hear who i see, who hears and sees me.

the boss’ room downstairs is bigger, yes, and it has newer and nicer furniture.

but for all that it’s also (only) a glorified cubicle: the “walls” don’t reach the ceiling, and it shares one partition wall with the big boss’ room (hence the request that he not smoke).

i will not be able to shut out sound (or smell), or keep noise in.

i’ve tried opening the blinds but because the second floor has the same floor to ceiling glass concept as mrsexy’s office and the blinds cover the entire width of the glass (and by default most of the room), i either let in too much light, or too little.

a long cabinet blocks access to most of the windows.

i won’t be able to see the sky anymore.

it feels too exposed and strangely claustrophobic at the same time.

on a plus point, moving down would actually make *me* more visible to mrsexy if i have the nerve to open the blinds that much (as he would then effectively be looking down into *my* room whenever he is at the window on the phone).

so if all i wanted was to be more visible to mrsexy (and at least 5 feet closer), moving down would be the best thing to do.

i will still have a partial view of the conference room, but will be looking slightly *up* at it, rather than down (and all the way to mrsexy’s table at the end).

but it won’t make that lone figure huddled in front of his laptop at 11 pm visible to me anymore.

and the loss of that tiny residual shred of comfort, on top of everything else i will lose, is a little too much to bear.

it’s not (all) about mrsexy.

it’s about control.

i’ve made up my mind.

i’m not moving.

now i just need to tell the boss.


(then again for all my rationalisation i could just be a lovesick puppy and don’t want to leave my perfect view of mrsexy. har har).

the beat that my heart skipped

it’s no use.

try as i might i can’t get mrsexy out of my head.

the idea of the move was partly to cut down on my dependence on him.

but the thought of looking across and not being able to see if he is around – or worse, knowing that he is around and not be able to see him still - is making me feel physically ill.

it wouldn’t be so bad if he was just eye-candy (and i had an actual life).

it’s depressingly tragic when (sometimes it feels like) he has morphed to fill up my entire universe (how on earth did i let it get this far???).

one minute am excited about moving down; the next second i panic and can’t breathe.

what am i going to do?

i don’t know.

i don’t know.
i don’t know.
i don’t know.

eviction notice

it’s been niggling at me.

apart from the loss of view of mrsexy hard at work (a mini tragedy but surely the world won’t end? if he comes to the window i have an even clearer view), there was only one thing holding me back …

and so i had to find out …

text to boss:
if i move downstairs to xxx’s room any chance you will stop smoking? : )

reply from boss:
ok i will smoke elsewhere. you can move down.

and just like that, i am moving to the room vacated by my lady boss on level 2.

here’s to new beginnings, and better views.

yay!

(goodbye mrsexy, it’s been fun, am going to miss seeing you huddle over your laptop at 11pm..)

bra 3 arg 0

disgraceful.

i should have just gone back to bed.

(why do the powers that be employ shebby? he is even more annoying than hasbullah "ini-dia-bola" awang on badminton)