What is pain? Well, according to the fifth edition of Oxford’s Advanced Learner’s Dictionary it is the physical discomfort caused by injury or illness.
I would disagree. Mainly because you cannot explain pain by words. It’s nearly impossible. The only reason why any of us could understand pain is because we had had firsthand experience of it, one way or another. When someone asks you, “What is pain?”, then the only way I find to answer is to slap him across the face and tell him, “That’s pain”. But if you’re talking about pain caused by heartbreaks then that’s a whole different story.
Like everybody else, I have come to experience pain since as long as I can remember. During my adolescent years, the worst injuries I had always happened when I went out on a ride with my beloved bicycle. I would trotter all around the neighbourhood every evening to explore and naturally, mishaps would occasionally happen and I would came trudging home with blood trickling down my knees. But one sadistic tale that I remembered most was when I had this horrendous fall from my two-wheeled carriage, slid across the road and I charred up my left knee so bad that the wound was so deep that I was left in a state of shock initially. About a half an hour later, the pain set in and my goodness wasn't it excruciating. It still tingles my spine every time I think about it.
During my teen years it was a different story. My injuries were caused by others. Bad people, naturally. Enrolled in an all-boys residential school you cannot escape the possibility of getting “disciplined” once in a while during your junior years. I was no exception. I was slapped, punched, shoved, kicked and hit by every imaginable objects from pails to hockey sticks to spoons. But my worst injury during that ‘golden era’ was when I had a broken left clavicle, or more popularly known as the collar-bone. Broken. Not a fracture, because that would mean that the bone just cracked but this, oh no, it was split into two. The X-ray image showed the two edged ends were on top of one another. People have said that a broken clavicle is the worst of its kind because it is sort of a connector in the human skeletal and every time you move any part of your upper body, it will sting. And it was more than just a sting. I was lying on the hospital bed and it hurts every time I turn my head, scratch an itch, adjust my position and even yawn. The only thing I did do that did not cause any pain was when I move my pinky.
Even though the surgical mark is still there reminding me everyday the experience that I had to endure, I was glad it was over and I hope never to experience such painful tenacity ever again. Well, my hopes were dashed.
Talk about divine intervention, I was doing my Maghrib prayers last Tuesday and a sudden discomfort just jolted out of nowhere in my right toe. I didn’t give it much thought because that was just it, a discomfort. Not something very unusual.
But as time ticked away into the night the pain still persists. And after slugging a few hours in front of the computer finishing my assignment, I decided to get myself a drink. To my astonishment I find myself unable to walk properly because the pain had apparently grown. “I probably pulled something quite serious down there,” or so I thought. I tried to rub some ointment but it had little effect. I tried to sleep on it but I woke up the next morning with the same amount of pain. “Ah, I’m sure it’ll shake off by the end of the day,” that's my ignorance talking. Sure enough, by the end of the day, it was still there, and it was getting worse. My daily commute took longer than usual because I had to walk slower and eventfully, I was a few minutes late to class. Ever so, every time I apply the minimal amount of pressure to my right foot, pain will shoot up and I would be clenching my teeth.
When I find myself bracing for the journey from the LRT station to my parked car, I knew something was terribly wrong and I need to consult a physician. When I got home, my father couldn’t agree more. But when my mother got home, she got this to say,
“It could be gout,”
“Wha-?” was all I could reply.
You see, gout is, well let me paste something…
What Is Gout?
Gout is one of the most painful forms of arthritis. It occurs when too much uric acid builds up in the body. The buildup of uric acid can lead to:
· Sharp uric acid crystal deposits in joints, often in the big toe (sounds familiar?)
· Deposits of uric acid (called tophi) that look like lumps under the skin
· Kidney stones from uric acid crystals in the kidneys.
For many people, the first attack of gout occurs in the big toe. Often, the attack wakes a person from sleep. The toe is very sore, red, warm, and swollen (you can say that again).
Gout can cause:
· Pain
· Swelling
· Redness
· Heat
· Stiffness in joints.
In addition to the big toe, gout can affect the:
· Instep
· Ankles
· Heels
· Knees
· Wrists
· Fingers
· Elbows.
A gout attack can be brought on by stressful events, alcohol or drugs, or another illness. Early attacks usually get better within 3 to 10 days, even without treatment. The next attack may not occur for months or even years.
So, chances are I got gout. It’s serious and it’s downright painful. Even after visiting the doctor, it still couldn’t be 100% confirmed because I needed a blood test to be definite. And the results are due tomorrow. In the meantime, however, I did receive some medication but until the effect of those drugs set in, I was still in pain. At one point I even found it amusing because the amount of pain was truly tremendous and unbearable. My toe was throbbing, and in the physical sense too. Even when stationary, I could see my toe twitch, in rhythmic motion in line with my heartbeat and it the pain moves up a notch every time it does so. It was not only grimacing but also annoying, particularly because I had been enduring it for the whole day. Try holding out for constant pain for nearly 12 hours. It’s devastating I tell you. The only thing that could be worse than this would be giving birth.
As a result of this I am conditionally under ‘house-arrest’. All because of my toe. Funny isn’t it? Well, not as funny when one of the elderly nurses at the clinic made a cruel joke out of me. “Ni kena pakai tongkat ni,” after noting my inability to walk properly. Haha very funny you little prune faced twat! If I had been slightly more mobile then I would have smacked her face and flung her across the room.
All I can do now is wait to recover. Strange thing is my daily classes are over and so my days are practically free. I was planning to see War of the Worlds but no, that’s not even possible. Because of the painkillers which I now couldn’t possibly live out with, nearly half of my right foot is constantly numb. I’m not sure if I could press the brake pedal fast enough should I choose to drive myself anywhere.
Not only that, I know have to precautionary steps concerning my food intake. Basically no stuff containing purines such as liver, beans, anchovies and, oh, the occasional seafood. I still could eat fish though not the canned ones like sardine. But a definite no-no for prawns, squids (or calamari as some fashionable people tend to call it) and particularly oysters. That’s right people, it’s heartbreaking. Taking seafood away from me is like taking away chocolates from a 5 year old. I wouldn’t eat it nor desire it every day but when I do get a chance, I’ll make pretty damn sure that I enjoy myself.
So, now I couldn’t get out of the house and I have to go on a diet. That sounds so crappy doesn’t it? It is so crappy that I had the spent the entire day today watching Desperate Housewives. A puddle was actually developing when I learnt that Bree had lost her husband. I was that pathetic. I even had to say ‘no’ to the usual Friday night hang out with the boys. I am so displeased. This might be what Aritha must’ve felt when she hurt her foot a while ago. It feels so rotten. Maybe I’ll write a sonnet about it one day. It will be grief, dark and titled, ‘Le Toe’.
Well, well, good news after all. I am going out this Friday night after all. Cheerio…
Friday, July 15, 2005
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Metro, or Retro, Sir?
When the Murcielago was newly launched, a European based car magazine did a review on it and said that seeing and touching the actual thing is more breathtaking than any published picture of the vehicle can do justice for. Yesterday, at the Dreamcars auto show at the KLCC Convention Centre I did get to touch a Murcielago, but a bit disappointingly the race version of it. It was totally bare with a complete carbon fibre chassis and undoubtedly a faster and meaner machine but I really would’ve preferred to meet the retail version. A ‘dream’ that is still yet to be fulfilled. But, I DID however, realized another part of that ‘dream’ by coming in close contact with its other 3 ‘friends’. The Carrera GT, the Enzo and the Zonda C12. And my, were they gorgeous. Just as the British writer wrote, it surely was more breathtaking seeing those marvelous machines in real life as opposed to any ‘relayed’ form of any media. Just the sheer presence of them was a soul stirrer itself. The only shame was I wasn’t permitted to ignite the engine and take it out for a test drive. But the highlight of the day has to be the driver’s seat of the new Golf GTI which I was able to put my ass in and the whizzing electric side doors of the gigantic Alphard. Whew, those were fun.
Anyway, let’s move on to better things shall we? Yes, beautiful cars are exciting and add in a few scantily clad girls beside them, they would make any boy’s day. But looking at myself standing in the middle of the carshow, a question popped up in my head which I had came upon in a not too distant past. A question not related to high-speed cars but more on a personal level. A question which focuses on the issue of, dare I say it, sexuality. A question bound to be confronted by every man, sooner or later, living in the new millennia.
“Am I a metrosexual or a retrosexual?”
Naturally, I am pretty much infuriated by the person who came up with this argument in the first place. As if I don’t have enough things to think about in my life.
Let me enlighten the situation…let’s start with the definitions….
Now, unless you have a version that was published yesterday, you wouldn’t find any of the definitions in your modern dictionary. I had to scour the web to find a proper explanation. And here’s what I’ve found:
Metrosexual
An urban male with a heterosexual orientation who rejects many macho attributes often linked to masculinity. He adopts many traits often associated with heterosexual females and gay males -- eg expensive hair care, stylish clothes.
Or, another way to put it,
A portmanteau combining "metropolitan" and "sexual", was first used in 1994 by British journalist Mark Simpson, who coined metrosexual (and its noun, metrosexuality) to refer to an urban male of any sexual orientation who has a strong aesthetic sense and spends a great deal of time and money on his appearance and lifestyle. He is the fashion-conscious target audience of men's magazines: Outside Britain, in its soundbite diffusion through the popular media, metrosexual has congealed
Mark Simpson. Now I have a name to hate. Isn’t it funny that journalists are always the focal point when it comes to starting a fiasco?
Now, a retrosexual…
A retrosexual is a man with a generally poor sense of style. It does not refer, necessarily, to boorish men but rather, refers to those who reject the notion of being finicky about one's physical appearance. It is the opposite of a metrosexual.
In layman’s terms, I prefer to use a newspaper article’s definition of the two words (or worlds, I might add). In it, the writer defined a metrosexual as a man who is more of a caring and delicate nature who is comfortable with pink.
…
Pink? Seriously, pink? How could I even begin to comprehend with… haih…pink?
Anyway, retrosexual, which is now viewed as the opposite of metrosexuality, is defined as the common man who are very much emotionally involved with sports and enjoys obscene sex jokes. Now, that I can relate to.
The burning question is right now is what am I? And better still, what do I inspire to be?
It raises a whole new level of dilemma for me personally. I would like to think that I am a retrosexual. I mean, I’d rather be watching Sportscenter than Buletin Utama. And I’ve spent countless mornings looking like a zombie from Resident Evil because I had spent the whole of last night catching the live telecast of a ‘big’ match. Furthermore, having an all boys night out again yesterday reassures me more of my inner self. Playing pool and foosball long into the wee hours of the morning while oogling at women and making obscene sex jokes are just way fun.
But then again, I love dressing up in fine clothes and looking good (despite some of my friends believing otherwise) and nowadays I have a dedicated hairstylist who I spend more than RM100 every time I see him. But no, I am NOT comfortable with pink.
So, what am I? A retro-metro-sexual hybrid? Sounds more like a freak to me. To tell you the truth, I have no bloody idea. And I think most people don’t either when it comes to themselves. As far as Malaysians are concerned I suppose. Ask different people and you’ll get different answers. It is fair to say those ‘lepaking’ at mamak stalls at 3 in the morning wearing their shorts doesn’t own a BMW and wear designer clothes to work? It’s the same as saying those yuppies at Starbucks as not having a favorite sports team. There is no way of telling, is there? As I am putting this together, I was hoping to come something close to an answer but, sorry to say, I’m just as stuck as I had started.
I just realized my profile photo is of Jude Law and, surprise surprise, he’s wearing a suit with a pink shirt. But I just have to say that gross sex jokes are just that funnier…
Anyway, let’s move on to better things shall we? Yes, beautiful cars are exciting and add in a few scantily clad girls beside them, they would make any boy’s day. But looking at myself standing in the middle of the carshow, a question popped up in my head which I had came upon in a not too distant past. A question not related to high-speed cars but more on a personal level. A question which focuses on the issue of, dare I say it, sexuality. A question bound to be confronted by every man, sooner or later, living in the new millennia.
“Am I a metrosexual or a retrosexual?”
Naturally, I am pretty much infuriated by the person who came up with this argument in the first place. As if I don’t have enough things to think about in my life.
Let me enlighten the situation…let’s start with the definitions….
Now, unless you have a version that was published yesterday, you wouldn’t find any of the definitions in your modern dictionary. I had to scour the web to find a proper explanation. And here’s what I’ve found:
Metrosexual
An urban male with a heterosexual orientation who rejects many macho attributes often linked to masculinity. He adopts many traits often associated with heterosexual females and gay males -- eg expensive hair care, stylish clothes.
Or, another way to put it,
A portmanteau combining "metropolitan" and "sexual", was first used in 1994 by British journalist Mark Simpson, who coined metrosexual (and its noun, metrosexuality) to refer to an urban male of any sexual orientation who has a strong aesthetic sense and spends a great deal of time and money on his appearance and lifestyle. He is the fashion-conscious target audience of men's magazines: Outside Britain, in its soundbite diffusion through the popular media, metrosexual has congealed
Mark Simpson. Now I have a name to hate. Isn’t it funny that journalists are always the focal point when it comes to starting a fiasco?
Now, a retrosexual…
A retrosexual is a man with a generally poor sense of style. It does not refer, necessarily, to boorish men but rather, refers to those who reject the notion of being finicky about one's physical appearance. It is the opposite of a metrosexual.
In layman’s terms, I prefer to use a newspaper article’s definition of the two words (or worlds, I might add). In it, the writer defined a metrosexual as a man who is more of a caring and delicate nature who is comfortable with pink.
…
Pink? Seriously, pink? How could I even begin to comprehend with… haih…pink?
Anyway, retrosexual, which is now viewed as the opposite of metrosexuality, is defined as the common man who are very much emotionally involved with sports and enjoys obscene sex jokes. Now, that I can relate to.
The burning question is right now is what am I? And better still, what do I inspire to be?
It raises a whole new level of dilemma for me personally. I would like to think that I am a retrosexual. I mean, I’d rather be watching Sportscenter than Buletin Utama. And I’ve spent countless mornings looking like a zombie from Resident Evil because I had spent the whole of last night catching the live telecast of a ‘big’ match. Furthermore, having an all boys night out again yesterday reassures me more of my inner self. Playing pool and foosball long into the wee hours of the morning while oogling at women and making obscene sex jokes are just way fun.
But then again, I love dressing up in fine clothes and looking good (despite some of my friends believing otherwise) and nowadays I have a dedicated hairstylist who I spend more than RM100 every time I see him. But no, I am NOT comfortable with pink.
So, what am I? A retro-metro-sexual hybrid? Sounds more like a freak to me. To tell you the truth, I have no bloody idea. And I think most people don’t either when it comes to themselves. As far as Malaysians are concerned I suppose. Ask different people and you’ll get different answers. It is fair to say those ‘lepaking’ at mamak stalls at 3 in the morning wearing their shorts doesn’t own a BMW and wear designer clothes to work? It’s the same as saying those yuppies at Starbucks as not having a favorite sports team. There is no way of telling, is there? As I am putting this together, I was hoping to come something close to an answer but, sorry to say, I’m just as stuck as I had started.
I just realized my profile photo is of Jude Law and, surprise surprise, he’s wearing a suit with a pink shirt. But I just have to say that gross sex jokes are just that funnier…
Friday, July 08, 2005
Transcendence of Inspiration
I have two words for you - writer’s block.
That is what I have been experiencing for the past, oh, about a month or so. It’s been quite a while since I had the urge to update my blog. You see, my updates usually happen after I’ve experienced an epiphany and that was what has been missing recently – a revelation, a stroke of an idea, an inspiration. And for the past two days, I have been getting them by the bucket loads. Not generally huge independently but more of a scatter of intrinsic ingenuities. That’s why when Acai coined the idea of me applying for a freelance columnist for any leading newspaper in the country I was a little less confided in myself because of moments like these. When you have writer’s block, hey, you have writer’s block. It’s not something you can whisk away with a Panadol or a brief drive around town. To conjure up something in writing which was evoked by a certain event that inspires the writer so much that he wishes to share those memoirs with the people around him and to enjoy that solitude in the purest essence as he had felt it, I believe, is an art form. And, as one distinct character from Toy Story 2 once said, “You can’t rush art,”
Sadly, though, I just came back from watching my next of kin in terms of electronic devices, the idiot box which is TV, and the most horrid thing had happened. Only a day after celebrating its victorious bid for the 2012 Summer Olympics, London was rocked by a series of explosions throughout its public transport system. Well, the ones that mattered actually. The main stations of the tube (the underground railway system) and a double-decker. Those poor people. Even though they are thousands of miles away, one cannot feel anything but sorry for them. I wonder if I know anybody in London right now. Most likely my high school friends but so far I couldn’t recall any of them going there to further their studies. Either that or the ones who DID go was so unpopular that I didn’t even bother to make a mental note of their educational excursions. Well, let’s move on to more important matters – my life.
Well, I must say my inspiring moment came yesterday at, what better place, Chili’s KLCC. Actually, that’s not true. There is a better place than Chili’s KLCC. To me, the definitive Chili’s outlet in the whole of Kuala Lumpur has to be the one at Bangsar Shopping Centre. I have fun memories at KLCC but I have fond ones at BSC. Will you look at that. Now, where does all that come from? I tell you, at certain moments, out of the blue, I can come up with some ingenious one-liners that could snuggly fit into those Hallmark greeting cards. However, my best has to be “You are my blue moon – rare and beautiful”. I was so amazed by myself then that I was gaping in awe. It was about late at night and I was standing on the driver’s side of Valerie and, equivocally, I was penning a birthday card. I didn’t know what to write so I looked up into the sky and there it was, this smeared giant cotton ball which is the moon. It was in its usual white-like manner but out of nowhere did that blue moon phrase just pops out of my mouth. And for that instant I knew it was the perfect line, so I engraved it in black ink onto the card, in my lamest attempt at impressive handwriting.
Anyway, back to present times and there I was, viewing the KLCC Park fountains doing their ‘dance’ from the 3rd floor of Suria. It was probably the first time I ever went to Chili’s alone and I rather quite enjoyed it. I used to go to these fine dining outlets by myself, especially during my internship (oh those were the days) and entertain myself to a proper quite dinner where the waiters/waitresses are always pleasant and smiling, conveying which is known to be comprehensible English and not an inept version from a 3rd world country. Not so much for hunger but for the tranquility of the occasion. Sometimes it is, just about the food. Not the hot babe sitting across the table. I used to go to Lazaar but they have closed since then, in place now a middle-eastern themed restaurant which just isn’t my thing. Divulging myself in those heavenly mashed potatoes I thought, this wasn’t a bad idea after all. I already skipped lunch earlier that day because I just didn’t had the appetite but then at 5 pm, your belly is beginning to make strange noises. And being in the evening, the place was loose, not crowded as it would at 2 pm. It was quaint, subtle and the sun is setting. I have always thought that KL looks so much better at night. The city seems to make more sense. The other time is after a heavy downpour.
I was flipping through the latest KLue and just like the previous issue, it’s brilliant. Some bloke spoke highly of last month’s cover of a girl licking on a cone of ice-cream. He said, after spotting a cover like that, there’s no way he’s not getting a copy. To my astonishment, I didn’t even realize that licking crescendo. For someone who sometimes can be defined as ‘shallow’ I should give myself a pat on the back for overlooking cosmetics and was more interested in the depth of the magazine. Speaking of being shallow, oh before that, those of you who has the latest KLue (if you don’t, get one) check out Brian Yap’s article. This guy’s one brilliant of a writer. Very insightful and congenial. I hope I can write as good as him one day. Now, about that shallow thing, after my indulging romance with the sundae brownie, I came across this most captivating looking young lady I have seen in quite a while. She was with her girl friend (which, sorry to say, not as pretty as her) and she dressed as casual as you like. The usual T-shirt and jeans and a plopped-up hair do. Now, I’ve always found it sexy to be able to view the back of a woman’s neck. Some may call it fetish but that’s open to interpretation. One of the many reasons I lose my breath every time a woman decides to pull back her hair to readjust. Anyway, this girl was gorgeous okay, and I would do anything to get her name and number but the problem was, well, a few actually, one would be the guard-like stance her friend was taking as if to fend of any potential predators for her pretty friend. I can tell you, it was a bit intimidating. Reminds me of the ogres from Warcraft. The second problem was that I had no idea what to say. Usually my mind would conjure up something but not this time. I was numb. And finally, my worst fear is that she could be just 17 – or 18. And that would’ve been some embarrassment and believe me, I’ve made that kind of mistake before and I plan not to revisit that experience anytime soon. So, there she was all gorgeous and everything, and I did thought of going up to her and say, “Hi, I think you are absolutely lovely and I would like to take you out to dinner,” but I’m not sure it’ll work these days. It used to. Frank Abagnale Jr. made it look so easy when he’s trying to cash fake cheques with a bank teller. Maybe I’ll ask this intriguing question to some of the ladies I know. What does it take for a decent (yes, I rank myself as decent, with a charming personality) stranger to take her out for dinner, or even a drink perhaps. As for the girl, well, we exchanged glances for the last time as she queued for RotiBoy but at the end of the day, I didn’t catch her name, she didn’t catch mine, that was that, end of story.
Funny thing about Suria. There are always beautiful people there. Probably the primary reason I like to spend my time there in search for inspiration. People always dress up when they go to Suria. It’s like an event in itself. Whether you’re with your family, your friends, or out on a date or even heading up to your office in the Twin Towers, they always look good. My brother, who works at KLCC, is so used to this ambience (gorgeous people in designer labels) that when he was assigned to Putrajaya for a few days, he came back one night and said that people in Putrajaya do not dress that well. A notion he concluded after taking stroll around Alamanda during lunch hour. My mother had this to reply, “Well, most of them are government officers, what did you expect? You can’t compare them to the crowd at KLCC,”. I guess that’s true. Being a government officer herself, I don’t think you can really argue. Which brings me to another question. Why oh why do most “fashionable” women I came across these days have designer handbags the size of shopping carts slung over their shoulders? They’re massive! And they look so impractical. I know they are a kind of statement like, “oh look at me I have a Gucci/Fendi/Prada/LV handbag and I am the envy of every women despite my below than average looks,” but surely you can’t dispel practicality altogether. Wasn’t handbags are supposed to serve just that purpose? Practicality? Some of them could even fit dogs inside with enough room to play catch. And these ‘storage’ handbags never really looked properly used. I could bet that the most they have in there are their handphones and their purse, nothing more. A few cosmetics items, I suppose. I could put all of those in my trouser pockets for goodness sake. You don’t need giant designer handbags to carry those miniscule items. Looks upon reason? I guess so, sadly.
It’s already Friday morning. Luckily, I have no classes today. A bit of a break as you may call it. Soon I’ll be finishing my course and hopefully pass the examinations. And to continue my adventures of becoming an auditor. Yeay~! I’m elated basically. Excited. Just it seems so strange that my life would be so dictated by numbers. A thought that never occurred to me when I was 17. Speaking of which, convocation is coming up, about bloody time too. Initially, I planned to get a job maybe a few months after ending the final semester and be employed until August, when my convocation will commence. I would save a few thousand quids and get myself a lean Hugo Boss suit. Or even an Armani. As you guessed it, things didn’t go quite as planned. I never got a job offer. Some of my engineering student friends have already ended their studies while I’m still contemplating about my coming final examination. And my earnings, more like allowances were only RM1000 for each month. That’s Rm3000 for the 3 month course and the only chance I have of getting a Hugo Boss suit is if I don’t spend any of those RM3000. Knowing me and living in the city, how could that even be possible? I saw 2 Weeks Notice recently and Hugh Grant had this lovely suit. Pinstripe. White shirt and this exquisite complementary purple-ish maroon tie. It looks good. Makes me want to follow suit. Although, I must admit the white shirt does look a tad cliché but I suppose that wouldn’t harm as much. And Donald Trump, urgh, what is wrong with that man? One of the most influential and powerful people in the business world and he is rarely caught without a pink tie. Would someone please advise him to wear something else? But that is the question isn’t it? Who would dare? Excuse Mr. Trump but I think you look rather silly with that tie. Boom, you’re fired. And so long aspiring ambitions to climb the corporate ladder. A concoction of sorts, ain’t it?
I’m going to indulge myself by going to a salon today. And maybe pester Ara for another drink. She blew me off a while ago, you know. It was last Friday, I think. She opted to go out with her sister to the Starbucks Music Series at uptown. Funny, I was planning to take her there too but I didn’t say of course. I could only reply, “Oh really? The Starbucks series?” and she went like, “eh, how’d you know?” duh, I’m not THAT lame. I may be the lesser creature in terms of popularity but there are a few things that I am well aware of. Well, I guess you can’t win them all. And yes, in real life, good guys sometimes lose. Funny how I am going to end this entre by downgrading myself. Oh check this out, I was just reminded by an email that I have a personalized website on my name. I totally forgot all about it. It ‘s at http://faizad.terrashare.com
I couldn’t remember the reason why I created such a site to begin with. And to start off, there’s nothing there actually. Just a proclaimer that it belongs to Swanky. Man I haven’t used that nickname for a long time.
Well, I think I better get going. Papers are already coming out, declaring 7/7. You know, as opposed to 9/11. Again, those poor people. Which makes me think, it wouldn’t be so hard for anybody to do the same here in KL. I commute almost everyday and I can say security at Putra LRT is almost non-existent. I could walk in with a bomb myself and leave it in a train and hitch myself off at the next station, getting away scot free. It’s a terrifying thought but a thought nonetheless. After this, I think it would be silly for Putra to not beef up security at their stations. It would be uncomfortable for the people but when it is about safety, well, you don’t have much of a choice, do you?
With that bombshell we have come to the end of today’s blog. Good day to all.
That is what I have been experiencing for the past, oh, about a month or so. It’s been quite a while since I had the urge to update my blog. You see, my updates usually happen after I’ve experienced an epiphany and that was what has been missing recently – a revelation, a stroke of an idea, an inspiration. And for the past two days, I have been getting them by the bucket loads. Not generally huge independently but more of a scatter of intrinsic ingenuities. That’s why when Acai coined the idea of me applying for a freelance columnist for any leading newspaper in the country I was a little less confided in myself because of moments like these. When you have writer’s block, hey, you have writer’s block. It’s not something you can whisk away with a Panadol or a brief drive around town. To conjure up something in writing which was evoked by a certain event that inspires the writer so much that he wishes to share those memoirs with the people around him and to enjoy that solitude in the purest essence as he had felt it, I believe, is an art form. And, as one distinct character from Toy Story 2 once said, “You can’t rush art,”
Sadly, though, I just came back from watching my next of kin in terms of electronic devices, the idiot box which is TV, and the most horrid thing had happened. Only a day after celebrating its victorious bid for the 2012 Summer Olympics, London was rocked by a series of explosions throughout its public transport system. Well, the ones that mattered actually. The main stations of the tube (the underground railway system) and a double-decker. Those poor people. Even though they are thousands of miles away, one cannot feel anything but sorry for them. I wonder if I know anybody in London right now. Most likely my high school friends but so far I couldn’t recall any of them going there to further their studies. Either that or the ones who DID go was so unpopular that I didn’t even bother to make a mental note of their educational excursions. Well, let’s move on to more important matters – my life.
Well, I must say my inspiring moment came yesterday at, what better place, Chili’s KLCC. Actually, that’s not true. There is a better place than Chili’s KLCC. To me, the definitive Chili’s outlet in the whole of Kuala Lumpur has to be the one at Bangsar Shopping Centre. I have fun memories at KLCC but I have fond ones at BSC. Will you look at that. Now, where does all that come from? I tell you, at certain moments, out of the blue, I can come up with some ingenious one-liners that could snuggly fit into those Hallmark greeting cards. However, my best has to be “You are my blue moon – rare and beautiful”. I was so amazed by myself then that I was gaping in awe. It was about late at night and I was standing on the driver’s side of Valerie and, equivocally, I was penning a birthday card. I didn’t know what to write so I looked up into the sky and there it was, this smeared giant cotton ball which is the moon. It was in its usual white-like manner but out of nowhere did that blue moon phrase just pops out of my mouth. And for that instant I knew it was the perfect line, so I engraved it in black ink onto the card, in my lamest attempt at impressive handwriting.
Anyway, back to present times and there I was, viewing the KLCC Park fountains doing their ‘dance’ from the 3rd floor of Suria. It was probably the first time I ever went to Chili’s alone and I rather quite enjoyed it. I used to go to these fine dining outlets by myself, especially during my internship (oh those were the days) and entertain myself to a proper quite dinner where the waiters/waitresses are always pleasant and smiling, conveying which is known to be comprehensible English and not an inept version from a 3rd world country. Not so much for hunger but for the tranquility of the occasion. Sometimes it is, just about the food. Not the hot babe sitting across the table. I used to go to Lazaar but they have closed since then, in place now a middle-eastern themed restaurant which just isn’t my thing. Divulging myself in those heavenly mashed potatoes I thought, this wasn’t a bad idea after all. I already skipped lunch earlier that day because I just didn’t had the appetite but then at 5 pm, your belly is beginning to make strange noises. And being in the evening, the place was loose, not crowded as it would at 2 pm. It was quaint, subtle and the sun is setting. I have always thought that KL looks so much better at night. The city seems to make more sense. The other time is after a heavy downpour.
I was flipping through the latest KLue and just like the previous issue, it’s brilliant. Some bloke spoke highly of last month’s cover of a girl licking on a cone of ice-cream. He said, after spotting a cover like that, there’s no way he’s not getting a copy. To my astonishment, I didn’t even realize that licking crescendo. For someone who sometimes can be defined as ‘shallow’ I should give myself a pat on the back for overlooking cosmetics and was more interested in the depth of the magazine. Speaking of being shallow, oh before that, those of you who has the latest KLue (if you don’t, get one) check out Brian Yap’s article. This guy’s one brilliant of a writer. Very insightful and congenial. I hope I can write as good as him one day. Now, about that shallow thing, after my indulging romance with the sundae brownie, I came across this most captivating looking young lady I have seen in quite a while. She was with her girl friend (which, sorry to say, not as pretty as her) and she dressed as casual as you like. The usual T-shirt and jeans and a plopped-up hair do. Now, I’ve always found it sexy to be able to view the back of a woman’s neck. Some may call it fetish but that’s open to interpretation. One of the many reasons I lose my breath every time a woman decides to pull back her hair to readjust. Anyway, this girl was gorgeous okay, and I would do anything to get her name and number but the problem was, well, a few actually, one would be the guard-like stance her friend was taking as if to fend of any potential predators for her pretty friend. I can tell you, it was a bit intimidating. Reminds me of the ogres from Warcraft. The second problem was that I had no idea what to say. Usually my mind would conjure up something but not this time. I was numb. And finally, my worst fear is that she could be just 17 – or 18. And that would’ve been some embarrassment and believe me, I’ve made that kind of mistake before and I plan not to revisit that experience anytime soon. So, there she was all gorgeous and everything, and I did thought of going up to her and say, “Hi, I think you are absolutely lovely and I would like to take you out to dinner,” but I’m not sure it’ll work these days. It used to. Frank Abagnale Jr. made it look so easy when he’s trying to cash fake cheques with a bank teller. Maybe I’ll ask this intriguing question to some of the ladies I know. What does it take for a decent (yes, I rank myself as decent, with a charming personality) stranger to take her out for dinner, or even a drink perhaps. As for the girl, well, we exchanged glances for the last time as she queued for RotiBoy but at the end of the day, I didn’t catch her name, she didn’t catch mine, that was that, end of story.
Funny thing about Suria. There are always beautiful people there. Probably the primary reason I like to spend my time there in search for inspiration. People always dress up when they go to Suria. It’s like an event in itself. Whether you’re with your family, your friends, or out on a date or even heading up to your office in the Twin Towers, they always look good. My brother, who works at KLCC, is so used to this ambience (gorgeous people in designer labels) that when he was assigned to Putrajaya for a few days, he came back one night and said that people in Putrajaya do not dress that well. A notion he concluded after taking stroll around Alamanda during lunch hour. My mother had this to reply, “Well, most of them are government officers, what did you expect? You can’t compare them to the crowd at KLCC,”. I guess that’s true. Being a government officer herself, I don’t think you can really argue. Which brings me to another question. Why oh why do most “fashionable” women I came across these days have designer handbags the size of shopping carts slung over their shoulders? They’re massive! And they look so impractical. I know they are a kind of statement like, “oh look at me I have a Gucci/Fendi/Prada/LV handbag and I am the envy of every women despite my below than average looks,” but surely you can’t dispel practicality altogether. Wasn’t handbags are supposed to serve just that purpose? Practicality? Some of them could even fit dogs inside with enough room to play catch. And these ‘storage’ handbags never really looked properly used. I could bet that the most they have in there are their handphones and their purse, nothing more. A few cosmetics items, I suppose. I could put all of those in my trouser pockets for goodness sake. You don’t need giant designer handbags to carry those miniscule items. Looks upon reason? I guess so, sadly.
It’s already Friday morning. Luckily, I have no classes today. A bit of a break as you may call it. Soon I’ll be finishing my course and hopefully pass the examinations. And to continue my adventures of becoming an auditor. Yeay~! I’m elated basically. Excited. Just it seems so strange that my life would be so dictated by numbers. A thought that never occurred to me when I was 17. Speaking of which, convocation is coming up, about bloody time too. Initially, I planned to get a job maybe a few months after ending the final semester and be employed until August, when my convocation will commence. I would save a few thousand quids and get myself a lean Hugo Boss suit. Or even an Armani. As you guessed it, things didn’t go quite as planned. I never got a job offer. Some of my engineering student friends have already ended their studies while I’m still contemplating about my coming final examination. And my earnings, more like allowances were only RM1000 for each month. That’s Rm3000 for the 3 month course and the only chance I have of getting a Hugo Boss suit is if I don’t spend any of those RM3000. Knowing me and living in the city, how could that even be possible? I saw 2 Weeks Notice recently and Hugh Grant had this lovely suit. Pinstripe. White shirt and this exquisite complementary purple-ish maroon tie. It looks good. Makes me want to follow suit. Although, I must admit the white shirt does look a tad cliché but I suppose that wouldn’t harm as much. And Donald Trump, urgh, what is wrong with that man? One of the most influential and powerful people in the business world and he is rarely caught without a pink tie. Would someone please advise him to wear something else? But that is the question isn’t it? Who would dare? Excuse Mr. Trump but I think you look rather silly with that tie. Boom, you’re fired. And so long aspiring ambitions to climb the corporate ladder. A concoction of sorts, ain’t it?
I’m going to indulge myself by going to a salon today. And maybe pester Ara for another drink. She blew me off a while ago, you know. It was last Friday, I think. She opted to go out with her sister to the Starbucks Music Series at uptown. Funny, I was planning to take her there too but I didn’t say of course. I could only reply, “Oh really? The Starbucks series?” and she went like, “eh, how’d you know?” duh, I’m not THAT lame. I may be the lesser creature in terms of popularity but there are a few things that I am well aware of. Well, I guess you can’t win them all. And yes, in real life, good guys sometimes lose. Funny how I am going to end this entre by downgrading myself. Oh check this out, I was just reminded by an email that I have a personalized website on my name. I totally forgot all about it. It ‘s at http://faizad.terrashare.com
I couldn’t remember the reason why I created such a site to begin with. And to start off, there’s nothing there actually. Just a proclaimer that it belongs to Swanky. Man I haven’t used that nickname for a long time.
Well, I think I better get going. Papers are already coming out, declaring 7/7. You know, as opposed to 9/11. Again, those poor people. Which makes me think, it wouldn’t be so hard for anybody to do the same here in KL. I commute almost everyday and I can say security at Putra LRT is almost non-existent. I could walk in with a bomb myself and leave it in a train and hitch myself off at the next station, getting away scot free. It’s a terrifying thought but a thought nonetheless. After this, I think it would be silly for Putra to not beef up security at their stations. It would be uncomfortable for the people but when it is about safety, well, you don’t have much of a choice, do you?
With that bombshell we have come to the end of today’s blog. Good day to all.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
The Misadventures of The Boy
Boy went to class. Boy was bored. Boy went meet former school mates after class. Boy had some fun. But boy had to go home coz boy got homework to do. Must submit tomorrow if not, boy’s lecturer will scold boy. Then boy got phonecall. Another fren asked to go join him for a movie. Boy not sure. Boy in dilemma. Boy was thinking, boy go movie or boy do homework? Boy was undecided. Plus, of boy go movie, boy can meet pretty girl friend. Boy long time no see pretty girl friend. So boy took gamble, boy tell friend he go movie. And then, turns out boy did not go movie coz too many people. Boy disappointed. But, nevertheless happy coz get to meet pretty girl friend. Coz no movie, boy and frens go eat and have little chit chat. After that, all go home.
Now boy sit in front of computer. Boy write blog. Homework still not started. Boy looked at watch, 1.12 am. Boy so deep in trouble.
Now boy sit in front of computer. Boy write blog. Homework still not started. Boy looked at watch, 1.12 am. Boy so deep in trouble.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
An Evening with Ara
As an optimist, I’m a firm believer in the concept of blessings in disguises. So when my evening class today was cancelled due to the lecturer’s ill health, I thought, oh hell, now that’s another class needed replacement at another time and day. My supposedly free time this Friday evening is already out of the window so another brouhaha like this was certainly not welcomed. Sure, another free evening for today but at a future price. Haih….
In an attempt to kill time, the 3 management students (Nabil, Puteri Shariza and myself) opted to loiter around Suria. We went to Kinokuniya and Tower and although I was pleased to stumble upon Incubus’ original Morning View Sessions DVD, things weren’t really exciting enough for me.I wanted to do something more meaningful but I had no idea. Sure enough, soon Nabil and Sha decided to end the little field trip and went home but I stood there at the LRT station, not feeling quite ready to head home. So I pulled out my SL55 and the first name to pop out of my head was Aida. So I dialed the number. A little drink with her would be fun. As bad luck would've put it, she was out with her mother at Mid Valley. Just arrived, she said. Well, so much for the anticipation. Then, I thought, what about Ara? Well, why not? It was a bit daring but what do I got to lose? And so I called her. As expected, she was at home doing nothing so I asked her out for a drink. You cannot imagine my joy when said yes. I was grinning all the way to Taman Melati.
About 40 minutes later, stationary in front of her home with Valerie, watching Ara walking towards me from the driver’s seat is an image I will forever savour in my mind. It was something like out of a dream. As if she was moving in slow motion and wind was blowing in her hair. And she was wearing a white baby-T, and oh, how I love white baby-Ts.
Initially she suggested NZ and I ws like the hell we will. My first one-on-one drink with Ara and there’s no way I’m gonna spend that time at a mamak outlet. Surely the occasion derserves a much better ambience. So I took her to her favorite place to chill, Ampang Coffee Bean. I normally prefer Starbucks to Coffee Bean but all that thought was immaterial.
As we started talking, I found out we are not that different as I thought we would be. Although she prefers to shake her booty at Zouk rather than sing along to a couple tunes in front of a TV in a darkened room, we had quite a few things in common.
She is quite the family oriented when she declares Sunday as a family day which is, pretty much the same case as mine. And her answer to my question of when is your deadline in settling down was, “…first I have to be successful enough to get myself a house,”. And that says quite a lot. When most people I meet prefer to get married first and ask questions later, she was more into settling her own life first and then before deciding who she wants to share her life with. And she watched all 6 Star Wars movies, I mean, how fuckin’ cool is that? And she loved them all! Oh I was stunned speechless.
We went on talking about our lives, our ambitions, what we hate, what we love, it was one of the most insightful conversations I had in a long time. Before we knew it, it was already 7 pm. Time to send the lass home. She has to be at home by Maghrib and I thought that is just so adorable.
In total we spent about 3 hours talking and drinking coffee. It was, well, beautiful. What more can I say? Although I doubt it she would classify this as an official date but I'd like to think otherwise. And her reply when I asked her if I could take her out again next time?
“Sure,”
I sang all the way home.
In an attempt to kill time, the 3 management students (Nabil, Puteri Shariza and myself) opted to loiter around Suria. We went to Kinokuniya and Tower and although I was pleased to stumble upon Incubus’ original Morning View Sessions DVD, things weren’t really exciting enough for me.I wanted to do something more meaningful but I had no idea. Sure enough, soon Nabil and Sha decided to end the little field trip and went home but I stood there at the LRT station, not feeling quite ready to head home. So I pulled out my SL55 and the first name to pop out of my head was Aida. So I dialed the number. A little drink with her would be fun. As bad luck would've put it, she was out with her mother at Mid Valley. Just arrived, she said. Well, so much for the anticipation. Then, I thought, what about Ara? Well, why not? It was a bit daring but what do I got to lose? And so I called her. As expected, she was at home doing nothing so I asked her out for a drink. You cannot imagine my joy when said yes. I was grinning all the way to Taman Melati.
About 40 minutes later, stationary in front of her home with Valerie, watching Ara walking towards me from the driver’s seat is an image I will forever savour in my mind. It was something like out of a dream. As if she was moving in slow motion and wind was blowing in her hair. And she was wearing a white baby-T, and oh, how I love white baby-Ts.
Initially she suggested NZ and I ws like the hell we will. My first one-on-one drink with Ara and there’s no way I’m gonna spend that time at a mamak outlet. Surely the occasion derserves a much better ambience. So I took her to her favorite place to chill, Ampang Coffee Bean. I normally prefer Starbucks to Coffee Bean but all that thought was immaterial.
As we started talking, I found out we are not that different as I thought we would be. Although she prefers to shake her booty at Zouk rather than sing along to a couple tunes in front of a TV in a darkened room, we had quite a few things in common.
She is quite the family oriented when she declares Sunday as a family day which is, pretty much the same case as mine. And her answer to my question of when is your deadline in settling down was, “…first I have to be successful enough to get myself a house,”. And that says quite a lot. When most people I meet prefer to get married first and ask questions later, she was more into settling her own life first and then before deciding who she wants to share her life with. And she watched all 6 Star Wars movies, I mean, how fuckin’ cool is that? And she loved them all! Oh I was stunned speechless.
We went on talking about our lives, our ambitions, what we hate, what we love, it was one of the most insightful conversations I had in a long time. Before we knew it, it was already 7 pm. Time to send the lass home. She has to be at home by Maghrib and I thought that is just so adorable.
In total we spent about 3 hours talking and drinking coffee. It was, well, beautiful. What more can I say? Although I doubt it she would classify this as an official date but I'd like to think otherwise. And her reply when I asked her if I could take her out again next time?
“Sure,”
I sang all the way home.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
An Evening with Ity
The KLCC Convention Centre is certainly huge. With all the suit-wearing people walking along the massive hallway, I couldn’t help myself but feel a little bit intimidated and out of place. But once Ity came into view from her exhibition booth, everything suddenly felt calming and refreshed.
The last time I saw Ity was a couple of months ago, even before I started the MICPA hullabaloo. That’s at least 2 months ago. Even then, I only saw her, at most 10 minutes. So you can say it was a case of too little too late. Followed by last week’s mishap, I thought, lady luck is surely against me in meeting up with this girl. But turns out, fate wasn’t that cruel and I did get to spend time with her. Twice. In consecutive days. Yesterday at the Ascott, where she was staying and my, what a bloody nice place. Owning an apartment there are what dreams are made of. Although, I didn’t actually go up to her place, just the vicinity of the area but still, I couldn’t help but be impressed. And today, at the Oil and Gas Asia Exhibition. In the years I’ve known her, I have become accustomed to seeing her in her fun and trendy mode if not her drowsy-just-woke-up-Sunday-morning look. When she came to greet me wearing this suit, I just thought, “Wow, now that’s a version of Ity I never saw before,”. As if she was projecting this classy and sophisticated woman of the corporate world vibe. It was kind of pleasing. Different but rather thrilling nonetheless. But once we got into a conversation, ah yes, it’s still the same Ity I know. Just in a different packaging. And she was working so hard at the booth that poor girl. But every time she looks up, she always have a smile for me. Despite her constant complaining of how her feet are killing her from standing all day long. It was when she is about to leave at the end of the day that I felt rather poignant watching her disappear from view as I descended down the escalator to the underground walkway. I just have this gut feeling that the next time I’ll see her will be in another few months time. An unrelinquished farewell filled with pathos.
One would question my reasons in chronicling everything from a, basically a simple evening rendezvous with a close friend. I must admit it’s not as if anything dramatic or of momentous event had took place that needed the world’s attention. But on a personal level, I just felt obliged to put something down, perhaps as an aptly reminder of a nice evening with Ity. The only regret that I have was she wouldn’t let me pinch her cheek (did that came out wrong?).
The last time I saw Ity was a couple of months ago, even before I started the MICPA hullabaloo. That’s at least 2 months ago. Even then, I only saw her, at most 10 minutes. So you can say it was a case of too little too late. Followed by last week’s mishap, I thought, lady luck is surely against me in meeting up with this girl. But turns out, fate wasn’t that cruel and I did get to spend time with her. Twice. In consecutive days. Yesterday at the Ascott, where she was staying and my, what a bloody nice place. Owning an apartment there are what dreams are made of. Although, I didn’t actually go up to her place, just the vicinity of the area but still, I couldn’t help but be impressed. And today, at the Oil and Gas Asia Exhibition. In the years I’ve known her, I have become accustomed to seeing her in her fun and trendy mode if not her drowsy-just-woke-up-Sunday-morning look. When she came to greet me wearing this suit, I just thought, “Wow, now that’s a version of Ity I never saw before,”. As if she was projecting this classy and sophisticated woman of the corporate world vibe. It was kind of pleasing. Different but rather thrilling nonetheless. But once we got into a conversation, ah yes, it’s still the same Ity I know. Just in a different packaging. And she was working so hard at the booth that poor girl. But every time she looks up, she always have a smile for me. Despite her constant complaining of how her feet are killing her from standing all day long. It was when she is about to leave at the end of the day that I felt rather poignant watching her disappear from view as I descended down the escalator to the underground walkway. I just have this gut feeling that the next time I’ll see her will be in another few months time. An unrelinquished farewell filled with pathos.
One would question my reasons in chronicling everything from a, basically a simple evening rendezvous with a close friend. I must admit it’s not as if anything dramatic or of momentous event had took place that needed the world’s attention. But on a personal level, I just felt obliged to put something down, perhaps as an aptly reminder of a nice evening with Ity. The only regret that I have was she wouldn’t let me pinch her cheek (did that came out wrong?).
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
...and she was wearing pink
Today I almost, unintentionally flirted with someone’s wife.
It was lunchtime and I just getting comfortable at my table with Nabil when my eye caught a group of three women sitting a few tables away. Two of the more ordinary looking of them were facing away from me but I was looking right across this single one. And I tell you she was absolutely gorgeous. With a face you’re sure is as sweet as sugar by just looking at her. And her smile, oh, a smile so alluring that would render the whole crowd silent.
She was so captivating that I can’t take my eyes off of her and it was just a matter of time before she notices. Normally I would back off in embarrassment but it was too good to be missed in so that I still catch a few glances now and then. I noticed her, she noticed me, I noticed that she noticed me and I was definitely sure she noticed that I noticed that she noticed. A thought really did came up to me to walk up to her and say, “Yes, I do believe it’s time we’ve met,” and probably exchange phone numbers. But, as fate would put it, she put both her hands up under her chin and there lay bare….her wedding ring. I could only look down and giggle in amusement. Whew, that was close. But, upon her departure, she had to walk by past where I was sitting and for one final moment, another brief glance to each other and she gave the slightest of smiles. It happened in a split second but it was as if she uttered, “Sorry, hon, but I’m already taken,” and all I could say was, “Yes, ma’am,” in acknowledgement.
Now, before you get all dismissive and start throwing accusations that I have a thing for older women, may I point out she was a young and again, fine looking woman. Any bloke would’ve mistaken her for a singleton. As if none of you came across any gorgeous MILFs. She probably had only been married for two years, at the most. I was just unlucky, gentlemen, just unlucky. If it hadn’t been for that one piece of jewelry, the story might have been different.
So, what have we learnt from today’s lesson? Don’t flirt with someone’s wife? Nooo. Au contraire, by all means please do because it’s a hell of a fun. And that is the important message for today. Flirting is fun. And those that don’t involve words are the best.
It was lunchtime and I just getting comfortable at my table with Nabil when my eye caught a group of three women sitting a few tables away. Two of the more ordinary looking of them were facing away from me but I was looking right across this single one. And I tell you she was absolutely gorgeous. With a face you’re sure is as sweet as sugar by just looking at her. And her smile, oh, a smile so alluring that would render the whole crowd silent.
She was so captivating that I can’t take my eyes off of her and it was just a matter of time before she notices. Normally I would back off in embarrassment but it was too good to be missed in so that I still catch a few glances now and then. I noticed her, she noticed me, I noticed that she noticed me and I was definitely sure she noticed that I noticed that she noticed. A thought really did came up to me to walk up to her and say, “Yes, I do believe it’s time we’ve met,” and probably exchange phone numbers. But, as fate would put it, she put both her hands up under her chin and there lay bare….her wedding ring. I could only look down and giggle in amusement. Whew, that was close. But, upon her departure, she had to walk by past where I was sitting and for one final moment, another brief glance to each other and she gave the slightest of smiles. It happened in a split second but it was as if she uttered, “Sorry, hon, but I’m already taken,” and all I could say was, “Yes, ma’am,” in acknowledgement.
Now, before you get all dismissive and start throwing accusations that I have a thing for older women, may I point out she was a young and again, fine looking woman. Any bloke would’ve mistaken her for a singleton. As if none of you came across any gorgeous MILFs. She probably had only been married for two years, at the most. I was just unlucky, gentlemen, just unlucky. If it hadn’t been for that one piece of jewelry, the story might have been different.
So, what have we learnt from today’s lesson? Don’t flirt with someone’s wife? Nooo. Au contraire, by all means please do because it’s a hell of a fun. And that is the important message for today. Flirting is fun. And those that don’t involve words are the best.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
June: The Good, The Bad and Just Plain Naughty
It is that time of the year again when every living football fans around the world look at each other and ask themselves, “Now, what?”
Summer is here and that means football season is over. On a happy note, I am certainly over the moon with Chelsea’s achievement in conquering the English Premiership and although in view of envy, I would’ve liked to see Milan triumph but the European Champions League Final was truly one of the enjoyable ones I’ve seen in years. But, unlike last year when we had Euro 2004 to cherish, this year there’s, well, nothing. At best I could point out are the World Cup qualifiers and the Confed… no that’s not even worth mentioning.
Other than that, there’s noting much to commemorate about in June. If I am a 17 year old living in a place called Orange County then yes, summer would be the time of the year for me. School’s out for months, I could put on my shorts, head to the beach and watch scantily clad young blondes playing beach volleyball. But here in Malaysia, those things do not happen. As far as we Easterners are concerned, who gives a fuck about summer? I mean, school’s out but that just makes it more irritating because my places of tranquility of Starbucks and TGV couldn’t offer me privacy and decency for a few weeks. I have to compete with adolescents. Weather is warm, as always. And no, there are no people with the likes of Carmen Electra or Tara Reid playing beach volleyball along the beaches of Port Dickson.
So, what is there to look forward to in June? Today’s the 5th and I’ve already spent the first week diving in my study notes and textbooks to get through my mid term examination and, yes, I agree with you it was not the best way to start off a brand new month.
Confounded at a certain point, I decided to pursue that long awaited quest of mine, that is to discover Kuala Lumpur. I mean, really discovering it. People have always said to me that there a lot of interesting things going on in this city. One only has to know where to find it. And that has always been my stumbling block. I don’t know where or how to get the best out of living here. All this while I’ve always been to the same ol’, same ol’ dining joint, shopping malls and movie cineplexes. I tell you, I’m getting tired of it. I want to try something new, something different, something exotic. I want, when my friends are talking about something, I would like to say, “I know this great place where you can…” or “You should try this place at etc. because it’s absolutely brilliant,”
It was with this notion that I bought myself the latest copy of a local magazine called KLue. It’s its 80th issue and I just realized what a fabulous magazine it is. It’s been circulating for ages but being an ignorant bastard that I am sometimes, I viewed it as another lame excuse for marketing purposes. I quaintly categorized it in the so-called “lifestyle” magazines. Boy was I wrong.
First of all, it has gone through an upgrade where now it is thicker, the paper quality is better and it’s color end to end. And what I love the most are the things inside. Inside is the kind of information that I have been longing for years now. The detailed guide of how to enjoy life in Kuala Lumpur. It listed all the wonderful dining spots, live musical performances, art exhibitions and festivals, theaters, oh you name it, all in the vicinity of Klang Valley. Being a magazine and published every month, you can bet that it’s very much up to date. And the best part of all? It only cost RM5.
The only thing I don’t like about it is that it leaked a secret that I only came to have known about 2 weeks ago. The location of Rahsia. But I guess a good thing like that should be shared to the public. I just it was done more subtlety.
Come to think of it, June, so far, is ain’t that bad. I mean, I rekindled my relationship with Chili’s since, oh I don’t know, months maybe. And recently, on the 1st of June to be exact, was Ara’s birthday. So I decided to SMS her a birthday wish. I didn’t expect to receive a reply but I did and it read, “Thank you babe :)”. I read that and I thought, wow, I was someone’s babe. I was Ara’s babe. For a brief moment in time there, I was Ara’s babe. I was more than happy to take that as a compliment. It was really flattering. Made me felt good for days.
Maybe it’s wrong of me to diss June so prematurely. There certainly some things to look forward to at the cinemas with Batman Begins and Mr. and Mrs. Smith lining up soon. The French Art Festival is really intriguing and I definitely want to check that out. And, hopefully, to top off the month of June, get out on a few dates through my Uniten connection. I left the dating scene for quite some time already and it should be fun to get a few under the belt. It’s not that I’m looking for a relationship or anything but just a little company over a nice quaint dinner during the weekends. With my new bound knowledge things should get pretty interesting but that’s a whole new blog entirely.
Summer is here and that means football season is over. On a happy note, I am certainly over the moon with Chelsea’s achievement in conquering the English Premiership and although in view of envy, I would’ve liked to see Milan triumph but the European Champions League Final was truly one of the enjoyable ones I’ve seen in years. But, unlike last year when we had Euro 2004 to cherish, this year there’s, well, nothing. At best I could point out are the World Cup qualifiers and the Confed… no that’s not even worth mentioning.
Other than that, there’s noting much to commemorate about in June. If I am a 17 year old living in a place called Orange County then yes, summer would be the time of the year for me. School’s out for months, I could put on my shorts, head to the beach and watch scantily clad young blondes playing beach volleyball. But here in Malaysia, those things do not happen. As far as we Easterners are concerned, who gives a fuck about summer? I mean, school’s out but that just makes it more irritating because my places of tranquility of Starbucks and TGV couldn’t offer me privacy and decency for a few weeks. I have to compete with adolescents. Weather is warm, as always. And no, there are no people with the likes of Carmen Electra or Tara Reid playing beach volleyball along the beaches of Port Dickson.
So, what is there to look forward to in June? Today’s the 5th and I’ve already spent the first week diving in my study notes and textbooks to get through my mid term examination and, yes, I agree with you it was not the best way to start off a brand new month.
Confounded at a certain point, I decided to pursue that long awaited quest of mine, that is to discover Kuala Lumpur. I mean, really discovering it. People have always said to me that there a lot of interesting things going on in this city. One only has to know where to find it. And that has always been my stumbling block. I don’t know where or how to get the best out of living here. All this while I’ve always been to the same ol’, same ol’ dining joint, shopping malls and movie cineplexes. I tell you, I’m getting tired of it. I want to try something new, something different, something exotic. I want, when my friends are talking about something, I would like to say, “I know this great place where you can…” or “You should try this place at etc. because it’s absolutely brilliant,”
It was with this notion that I bought myself the latest copy of a local magazine called KLue. It’s its 80th issue and I just realized what a fabulous magazine it is. It’s been circulating for ages but being an ignorant bastard that I am sometimes, I viewed it as another lame excuse for marketing purposes. I quaintly categorized it in the so-called “lifestyle” magazines. Boy was I wrong.
First of all, it has gone through an upgrade where now it is thicker, the paper quality is better and it’s color end to end. And what I love the most are the things inside. Inside is the kind of information that I have been longing for years now. The detailed guide of how to enjoy life in Kuala Lumpur. It listed all the wonderful dining spots, live musical performances, art exhibitions and festivals, theaters, oh you name it, all in the vicinity of Klang Valley. Being a magazine and published every month, you can bet that it’s very much up to date. And the best part of all? It only cost RM5.
The only thing I don’t like about it is that it leaked a secret that I only came to have known about 2 weeks ago. The location of Rahsia. But I guess a good thing like that should be shared to the public. I just it was done more subtlety.
Come to think of it, June, so far, is ain’t that bad. I mean, I rekindled my relationship with Chili’s since, oh I don’t know, months maybe. And recently, on the 1st of June to be exact, was Ara’s birthday. So I decided to SMS her a birthday wish. I didn’t expect to receive a reply but I did and it read, “Thank you babe :)”. I read that and I thought, wow, I was someone’s babe. I was Ara’s babe. For a brief moment in time there, I was Ara’s babe. I was more than happy to take that as a compliment. It was really flattering. Made me felt good for days.
Maybe it’s wrong of me to diss June so prematurely. There certainly some things to look forward to at the cinemas with Batman Begins and Mr. and Mrs. Smith lining up soon. The French Art Festival is really intriguing and I definitely want to check that out. And, hopefully, to top off the month of June, get out on a few dates through my Uniten connection. I left the dating scene for quite some time already and it should be fun to get a few under the belt. It’s not that I’m looking for a relationship or anything but just a little company over a nice quaint dinner during the weekends. With my new bound knowledge things should get pretty interesting but that’s a whole new blog entirely.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Room Service Deliveries
For the past week or so there’s a group of people dressed in red T-shirts and black trousers pestering people about at the Putra LRT KLCC station. I usually ignore these types of people because this kind of behavior could only come from people looking for donations for the poor and disabled or trying to sell you something which you never heard of before but somehow “essential” to your needs. But there’s something different about this group of people. They appear somewhat more professional and organized. Plus there seems to be a Caucasian being the head of things. That is always a good indication. However, they only appear during the evening rush hour which by then, I am in a naturally exhausted state and just want to get home before being further sandwiched in the passenger car of the train. But I managed to get a peek at one of the brochures they were handing out and they read ‘Room Service Deliveries’. That got me thinking. If it is what the name suggests, then I am really impressed because the idea behind it is just absolutely brilliant. Room service for the masses.
Profoundly curious, I intentionally allowed myself to be held up by one of these people in red last Thursday just to find out exactly what they are offering. And my suspicion were proven. Basically they have come to an agreement with a few restaurants around Kuala Lumpur to be the delivery folks for whichever customers, who are just painstakingly lazy to move their ass around to get a decent meal, have them delivered right onto their doorstep. But the best part is, those restaurants I mentioned earlier, are not your regular mamak establishments or Kg. Baru’s Nasi Lemak Antarabangsa cliques. Oh no no, to illustrate, let me entertain you with a list of their known current associates:
- Alexis
- Bangles
- Chili's
- Chinoz
- Dome
- La Bodega
- Modesto's
- Planet Hollywood
You catch my drift? As you may realize, these are not calang-calang restaurants you know. These are fine restaurants offering fine food. And to have them delivered right to your front door? Call me painstakingly lazy too but to ditch KL traffic and parking fees out of the equation and treat myself to some Chili’s Cheesesteak Sandwich and Molten Chocolate Cake in the comfort of my living room? Hey, I’d give my vote anytime. But one of the few catches is you have to place an order amounting more than RM50 to be qualified. But as they their target market are “medium and high income earners”, who’s trippin’?
But one monumental sad fact is, for me at least, they don’t deliver all the way to Gombak. Sad but true. They deliver to Wangsa Maju though but Batu 6 is tad bit out of reach. It is one of the few instances where living in Gombak disappoints me. I love the quiet environment when it’s nighttime and traveling to Genting Highlands is almost no hassle at all but I just can’t order Dome from my own bed.
But seriously, even though I am geographically incapable of enjoying their services I still think this thing has a tremendous potential. It’s one of those ideas when, upon hearing it, you go, “Now why didn’t I thought of that?”. The same case when RotiBoy exploded into the scene. The secret behind their success is so simple it’s ridiculous. They just make buns for crying out loud! But one thing they got right is the aroma. After a tiring evening shift and 6 hours after you had your lunch, the heavenly fragrance of a freshly baked Mexican bun from RotiBoy is much too tempting. You only remember your diet regime after you finish licking bread crumbs from your hands and mouth.
Final word: for those of you living in the center of the metropolis which is Kuala Lumpur or its immediate vicinity, be it known that I envy you beyond words. So if one day, I somehow stumbled upon your lovely home and ask the question, “Can we order in?”, don’t be surprised if I don’t dial for Pizza Hut or McDonald’s.
Chelsea: El Champione
This is a piece that I should’ve done weeks ago but here it is, finally, the tribute to the new champions of England, Chelsea Football Club.
It is a very satisfying feeling indeed to be finally crowned Premiership champions. It’s been a long time coming, oh believe me, a long time coming. I’ve waited 9 years (a joke compared to those original supporters who waited 50) for this to happen. I knew it would come one day since I said to myself, “Hmm, I think my uncle mentioned something about this Ruud Gullit being a great player or something. I guess I’ll take this club as the English club I’ll support. What’s the name again? Chelsea?”
From that moment on, I never looked back. Along the years I was at the receiving end of friendly insults even when amazing players like Gianfranco Zola, Gianluca Vialli and Marcel Desailly donned the blue colors of London and graced the field majestically because unless Chelsea win something significant, they always be associated with the words, ‘so close yet so far’. And as far as Manchester United, Arsenal and co-evidently Liverpool are concerned, the Premiership and the Champions League are the only two to be qualified as significant. Well, now we have one in the bag. And the duel at Old Trafford recently was truly an icing on the cake. Not only did we comprehensively beat them 3-1 and dominated the game, we also broke their previous record of most points and clean sheets gained in a single Premiership season. To add insult to injury, there was no Terry, no Duff, no Robben, no Drogba, no Bridge and no Ferreira while theirs’ was at full strength. They can argue that the 5-3 drubbing at Stamford Bridge a few years back was purely bad luck and a certain Massimo Taibi was the epitome of all faults on that fateful evening but last Wednesday, the sky was truly grey at Manchester. And glorious Chelsea stood out like sunshine.
It’s a shame the same cannot be said for the Champions League. Last season’s achievement was not bettered. It was disappointing but not really hurtful once you take everything into context. As a matter of fact, it does serve as a kind of a motivation come August. A target yet to be achieved. Should’ve we won the quadruple, it could have been less interesting next season. Certainly winning things for the first time is really exciting rather than defending them. There’s the revenge at Newcastle in the FA Cup to look forward to and Liverpool is just a plain nuisance. I used to like Liverpool because my brother and uncle support them. Well, you count those days long gone.
But, truly, the person I’d like to credit most is the current manager, a Portuguese that goes by the name of Jose Mourinho. Gullit, Vialli, Ranieri were certainly exciting times but it is the Mourinho era that things have become meaningful.
As a final word, I would once again toast a tribute and salute to Chelsea FC, its staff and players for a wonderful 2004/2005 season. May the glory continue into 2006 and beyond. And with Mr. Abramovich’s millions, I wish the excitement will start in summer. Adriano, anyone?
What's In A Name?
Now, I have an interesting story to tell you. This happened last week. You see, it was my sister’s 21st birthday and the whole family decided to go out and celebrate. We went to Maju Palace, a quaint Chinese restaurant at Maju Junction and the meal was surprisingly pleasant. The occasion was, as expected, fun and enjoyable but what really made it an unforgettable event to me that night was the conversation at the table.
I don’t know why but only after more than 20 years did this thing came up. It was the about the siblings’ names i.e. us. The whole quadruple. 3 boys and 1 girl. Our mother finally laid the story before us, revealing behind-the-scenes facts which neither any of us had ever thought of asking about for the past 2 decades.
Fadhlan, the eldest, had his inspired from a legendary Islamic figure. Our father came up with this and it was naturally appropriate that the patriarch decides the name for the first-born. As the name originated from the Arabs thus it too was spelled in their alphabet. There was a indecisive moment initially whether to put faz-lan or fadh-lan on the birth certificate. The latter was chosen because it gave a more sense of power and authority. 26 years later on, we all agreed it is still the right choice.
My sister’s name has a much more colourful background. Her name was inspired from a 70’s Malaysian movie entitled ‘Abang’ and Her Majesty The Queen of Jordan at that time. Our mother played around with those two names and came up with Faradila. Not bad, eh?
The youngest one, Fawwaz, was the easiest. His name came from a book listing Muslim baby names which includes all their wonderful meanings. Fawwaz translates to ‘The Successful One’. Lot less dramatic but admirable enough.
Of course my name is which I am most interested in. For all these years, I have always thought my name originated from the word ‘faiz’ which also translates from Arabic as ‘The Successful One’. Literally this is correct, but it was never the intention when my mother picked the name 'Faizad' for me. I never saw this one coming but my name is actually inspired from, get this, Dato’ Seri Shahrizat Abdul Jalil, current Minister of Women, Family and Community Development.
When I first heard this I couldn’t believe it myself. The story? Well, apparently during her high school years, the then young Sharizat was already a leading character at Tunku Kurshiah College. Being a junior at the time, my mother couldn’t help but look up and admire her. “We used to call her Kak Ijat,” my mother told me. It wasn’t long before she decided to name one of her children ‘Ijat’ one day. Well, guess which bundle of joy that received that privilege? It was due to the fact that our father wanted to maintain all his children to have names beginning with the letter ‘F’ and the name ‘Faizat’ just sounds wrong that I ended up with Faizad. Don’t get me wrong I have no complaints against my name, I practically love it but should I’ve been born a girl, I can almost assure you that I would be named Shahrizat.
As of now, I have to view Dato’ Seri Shahrizat in a different light. Along the years I couldn’t say I’ve always agreed with her on things, with regards to her opinions and principles. She’s currently one of the iconic figures of women in Malaysia and she achieved this by always be the first to fight for women’s right and freedom. Being a man I couldn’t help but come up with a cynical “What now?” response every time she launches a new campaign or seminar on women. Well, I couldn’t now. Now I have to acknowledge and support all of her efforts because, uite frankly, downgrading her would mean downgrading myself. It's just how I see it. I mean, in a way, I am a part of her, albeit only her name. It’s more like an ethical issue for me. My mother respects her enough to name me after her. It would only seem rational that I follow suit. Respect thee. I don't usually grant my respect out whimsically but I couldn't put an argument here. But please, inspired from a woman, my name is, but wear pink and watch Oprah, I still would not.
I don’t know why but only after more than 20 years did this thing came up. It was the about the siblings’ names i.e. us. The whole quadruple. 3 boys and 1 girl. Our mother finally laid the story before us, revealing behind-the-scenes facts which neither any of us had ever thought of asking about for the past 2 decades.
Fadhlan, the eldest, had his inspired from a legendary Islamic figure. Our father came up with this and it was naturally appropriate that the patriarch decides the name for the first-born. As the name originated from the Arabs thus it too was spelled in their alphabet. There was a indecisive moment initially whether to put faz-lan or fadh-lan on the birth certificate. The latter was chosen because it gave a more sense of power and authority. 26 years later on, we all agreed it is still the right choice.
My sister’s name has a much more colourful background. Her name was inspired from a 70’s Malaysian movie entitled ‘Abang’ and Her Majesty The Queen of Jordan at that time. Our mother played around with those two names and came up with Faradila. Not bad, eh?
The youngest one, Fawwaz, was the easiest. His name came from a book listing Muslim baby names which includes all their wonderful meanings. Fawwaz translates to ‘The Successful One’. Lot less dramatic but admirable enough.
Of course my name is which I am most interested in. For all these years, I have always thought my name originated from the word ‘faiz’ which also translates from Arabic as ‘The Successful One’. Literally this is correct, but it was never the intention when my mother picked the name 'Faizad' for me. I never saw this one coming but my name is actually inspired from, get this, Dato’ Seri Shahrizat Abdul Jalil, current Minister of Women, Family and Community Development.
When I first heard this I couldn’t believe it myself. The story? Well, apparently during her high school years, the then young Sharizat was already a leading character at Tunku Kurshiah College. Being a junior at the time, my mother couldn’t help but look up and admire her. “We used to call her Kak Ijat,” my mother told me. It wasn’t long before she decided to name one of her children ‘Ijat’ one day. Well, guess which bundle of joy that received that privilege? It was due to the fact that our father wanted to maintain all his children to have names beginning with the letter ‘F’ and the name ‘Faizat’ just sounds wrong that I ended up with Faizad. Don’t get me wrong I have no complaints against my name, I practically love it but should I’ve been born a girl, I can almost assure you that I would be named Shahrizat.
As of now, I have to view Dato’ Seri Shahrizat in a different light. Along the years I couldn’t say I’ve always agreed with her on things, with regards to her opinions and principles. She’s currently one of the iconic figures of women in Malaysia and she achieved this by always be the first to fight for women’s right and freedom. Being a man I couldn’t help but come up with a cynical “What now?” response every time she launches a new campaign or seminar on women. Well, I couldn’t now. Now I have to acknowledge and support all of her efforts because, uite frankly, downgrading her would mean downgrading myself. It's just how I see it. I mean, in a way, I am a part of her, albeit only her name. It’s more like an ethical issue for me. My mother respects her enough to name me after her. It would only seem rational that I follow suit. Respect thee. I don't usually grant my respect out whimsically but I couldn't put an argument here. But please, inspired from a woman, my name is, but wear pink and watch Oprah, I still would not.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Hope Springs
When I arrived at class, 25 minutes early, yesterday morning I felt rather ironic because was not supposed to start until 10 am and there I was, unintentionally became the first student to be present at 9.35am. Then I realized I brought the wrong set of lecture materials. The one specifically prepared for that day’s lesson was sitting nicely in my room. I couldn’t help but feel rather stupid while I was banging my head repeatedly onto the table. This is going to be one long week.
Earlier that day Chelsea had already lost to Liverpool and being somber is the least of my worries. My favorite team lost, I didn’t have enough sleep and I brought along 2-inch thick paper which is going to be useless for the whole day. Fearing the worst, I was expecting something bad to happen at every turn of events. Fortunately however, things turned out better soon after wards.
I managed to get through the day’s lessons without much of a hassle, I reminded myself that Chelsea ARE the Premiership champions and the best news of all, the package is finally delivered. It was obvious on everyone’s gleaming faces this morning.
I still have lot of revision to do but hey, it’s all in day’s work.
Earlier that day Chelsea had already lost to Liverpool and being somber is the least of my worries. My favorite team lost, I didn’t have enough sleep and I brought along 2-inch thick paper which is going to be useless for the whole day. Fearing the worst, I was expecting something bad to happen at every turn of events. Fortunately however, things turned out better soon after wards.
I managed to get through the day’s lessons without much of a hassle, I reminded myself that Chelsea ARE the Premiership champions and the best news of all, the package is finally delivered. It was obvious on everyone’s gleaming faces this morning.
I still have lot of revision to do but hey, it’s all in day’s work.
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
Gutted
An accounting quiz was to be held last week during class. It was delayed ever since. Today it finally came and after a few quick revisions I was brimming with confidence on doing well. When the marks were tallied in the end, I had the lowest score among the 7 students. It felt horrible. It was like being hit in the gut. Just like when Chelsea lost to then newly-promoted Charlton Athletic couple of seasons back during Vialli’s reign. To top this disappointment off, I have to belanja the lecturer lunch as part of an earlier deal for the lowest scoring student. And guess what he wants for lunch? Chili’s. Chili’s I tell you! Bloody fuckin’ Chili’s! Even I hadn’t had Chili’s for 3 months. Now I have to belanja someone something which I myself crave? Oh ain’t that just peachy.
The only compensation I have is that I like the guy. He’s very laid back and quite a joker. So I really hope that all this is just one mean joke. Nevertheless, I still feel I owe him something for not performing, even above my own standards. Fortunately enough Chelsea will travel to Anfield later tonight for the Champions League Semi-final 2nd leg. Nothing better to cheer up oneself than an enticing football match. I just hope Chelsea wins tonight. If not, then I will be one upset man come tomorrow morning with a bad case of crankiness from a lack of sleep.
The only compensation I have is that I like the guy. He’s very laid back and quite a joker. So I really hope that all this is just one mean joke. Nevertheless, I still feel I owe him something for not performing, even above my own standards. Fortunately enough Chelsea will travel to Anfield later tonight for the Champions League Semi-final 2nd leg. Nothing better to cheer up oneself than an enticing football match. I just hope Chelsea wins tonight. If not, then I will be one upset man come tomorrow morning with a bad case of crankiness from a lack of sleep.
Stealing Beauty
I consider myself a man who appreciates beauty. That is why I have a picture of Yasmin Hani coyly perched on a white sofa on the back of my bedroom door. Well, that was last week. Nowadays I have the May and Choy twins locked in each other’s arms in erotic embrace. That is also why when I had the chance to test drive the new BMW 3 series a.k.a. the E90 at Bukit Kiara Equestrian I gave no second thoughts.
Arguably the most anticipated car in the first quarter of 2005 in Malaysia, the E90 is truly a remarkable piece of automotive brilliance. Not only did it have the looks but also the handling and power to match it.
So when I was on my way to a Putra LRT station, my eye caught a 2005 Honda CR-V parked beside the road. As usual I couldn’t help but wonder what could have possibly prompted the owner to purchase such a bland looking vehicle? I admit the previous model was quite a catch and looked very appealing but in all logical sense, the newer model should, must be presented in a more enticing package. Sadly, it isn’t so in this CR-V case. The 2005 version looks boring and the least bit of exciting. You actually have to tell people that it is brand new or otherwise they wouldn’t know. Then I realized something else.
The CR-V is not the lone case in this country. There are many instances where the first time you lay your eyes on them you know it is a horrifying looking car and yet sales continue to venture into the thousands every three months. The best example would be the Hyundai Accent. It is so hideous I would get no nearer than 30 feet of it. How about the Hyundai Sonata? Many people say that it looks like the Jaguar XJ or X-Type. Well, those people are wrong. It TRIED to look like an XJ or an X-Type but failed miserably. It is fair to say the Sonata is for the people who couldn’t afford a brand new Jag but could settle for a poor imitation of it. Although the upcoming model does looks better but one couldn't help noticing too much resemblance to the Mazda 6. Setting Korean cars aside, let’s move to a premium car which in this case I would like to point out the new BMW 5 series. Again, the handling and luxurious features are truly in a class of its own but I must say the styling just couldn’t be more off. It looks so bulky. While the previous models emphasized on sleekness, this one just looks like a Sega Saturn rather than a Sony Playstation. While video gamers have a better sense in preferring the Playstation compared to the Saturn, the same couldn’t be said about BMW enthusiasts. They would buy anything with the BMW logo on it. Regardless of beauty or logical sense. And don't get me started on the 1 Series.
Moving back to our local market I would like to point out the Toyota Avanza. For the first quarter of 2005 this is the second highest selling vehicle in Malaysia, inclusive of imported and locally produced cars. The top rank belongs to the Proton Wira Aeroback 1.3 (A). The Avanza effectively beat, never mind the imported brands, but also the Waja, the Gen.2, the Kancil and the Kelisa. You should notice that in the road nowadays they are practically everywhere. And yet, when you look at them, I don’t think that the first thing that crosses your mind is, “Oh look at that! It’s so beautiful! I have to get one of those!”. The wheels are too small, the stumped rear is an eyesore, the bodywork looks more fragile than a Coca-Cola can and the worst part is Malaysians still buy them in the bucket loads because “they’re new”. Well, I’m pretty sure that tagline would only work in the first 6 weeks and then it just becomes another unattractive and uninspiring vehicle count. And when something ridiculous happens at large it is almost certain Americans are no so far off the picture. Chevrolet is launching a direct rival to the Avanza. It’s called the Spark. It’s going to be cheap, practical and hugely successful despite the fact that it looks like a high-strung bug.
After considering all this, I came to the obvious conclusion that Malaysians generally have a poor sense of taste when it comes to buying cars. Rather than accepting this fact throughout, I did a little survey of my own, just to prove my instincts that there are some of us who really know what makes a beautiful and worthy car.
So I began asking around some of my closest friends. The results were more than comforting. Of course, my male counterparts have no problems at all when it comes to automotive pristine. My schoolmate Gambit prefers the Aston Martin Vanquish. Jedeh thinks the Mazda RX-8 and Mazda 6 are a catch. Big Show likes the X5. Tomok fancies the Altezza. So with that settled, I moved to more daring grounds and asked the women. Since I suspect women don’t consider the styling of their vehicle among the top priorities in their lives compared to Dior's new line of make up or Chanel's Spring/Summer handbag collection. Should I come across a dodgy response, it would surely come from this group of people undoubtedly. Turns out I was wrong. Zalina thinks the new Porches were gorgeous. Jes wouldn’t mind driving around in a BMW or Merc Cabrio. Way back I remembered Sasa just fell in love the Porsche Cayenne, Aritha thinks the new VW Beetle cute and Regina practically drooled when the word R34 Skyline is mentioned.
All in all I think I am fortunate to have associates who know and appreciate beautiful cars. But what is the explanation behind all those 4-whell craps scattered everywhere on Malaysian roads? Well, one good reason I can think of is money. Malaysians, in general, prefer to shop, particularly with cars, with monetary factors in their minds. Hence, the Avanzas and purple colored Gen.2s. Also practicality, which explains the cargo-like Unsers. One couldn't really blame them but despite all this I still think Malaysians should improve on their sense of vehicle appreciation because just like any other investments, a good car is worth the money even though you have to spend a little extra for it. I am a firm believer of that. Fortunately, so does my father.
Malaysians still lack the knowledge of reliability, build quality and depreciation value when it comes to purchasing cars. Space and affordability are the ONLY points of concern. Sure, they will argue that all they want is something to get them from point A to point B. But what if after 6 months, that ‘something’ could only get you halfway through to point B because it broke down while on its way? What is by the time you return to point A, you found out the headlights suddenly went dead and you can’t travel around at night during the weekend because the spare parts shop will open only the coming Monday? Then comes the electric windows that wouldn't wind down, the hollow dashboard and the vibrating steering wheel everytime the speedometer reaches 80 km/h.
As a final word, I would like to hand out certain advices for those who are contemplating on acquiring a new car. Avoid the Skodas because they define ugly, avoid French cars because they’ll broke down even before you turn on the ignition, avoid the Hyundai unless it’s the Getz, avoid Chevrolets unless it’s the Aveo, Japanese makes are always reliable although styling can be a hindrance sometimes, Kias are no better than Proton or Peroduas and if you have a problem on how to chose a good looking car, bring along a 12-year0old boy and let him tell you which car he would like to be driven to school with without being feeling embarrassed. Previously owned cars which are more than 5 years old are bound to have problems. Those aged more than 10 years are likely to spend more time in the car repair shop than in your driveway in the first few months should you choose to purchase it. And you can figure out the costs.
Faizad's Mini Cool Wall Cool Cars
(Clockwise from top right) Porsche Boxster S, Mazda 6,VW Beetle, BMW 3 Series (E90), Toyota Altezza, Nissan Skyline GT-R (R34)
(Clockwise from top) Merc CLK Cabriolet, Jaguar X-Type, BMW X5, Porsche Cayenne S, Jaguar XJ Uncool Cars
(Clockwise from top right) Toyota Avanza, Chevrolet Spark, Honda CR-V, Toyota Unser, Hyundai Sonata, BMW 5 Series
Arguably the most anticipated car in the first quarter of 2005 in Malaysia, the E90 is truly a remarkable piece of automotive brilliance. Not only did it have the looks but also the handling and power to match it.
So when I was on my way to a Putra LRT station, my eye caught a 2005 Honda CR-V parked beside the road. As usual I couldn’t help but wonder what could have possibly prompted the owner to purchase such a bland looking vehicle? I admit the previous model was quite a catch and looked very appealing but in all logical sense, the newer model should, must be presented in a more enticing package. Sadly, it isn’t so in this CR-V case. The 2005 version looks boring and the least bit of exciting. You actually have to tell people that it is brand new or otherwise they wouldn’t know. Then I realized something else.
The CR-V is not the lone case in this country. There are many instances where the first time you lay your eyes on them you know it is a horrifying looking car and yet sales continue to venture into the thousands every three months. The best example would be the Hyundai Accent. It is so hideous I would get no nearer than 30 feet of it. How about the Hyundai Sonata? Many people say that it looks like the Jaguar XJ or X-Type. Well, those people are wrong. It TRIED to look like an XJ or an X-Type but failed miserably. It is fair to say the Sonata is for the people who couldn’t afford a brand new Jag but could settle for a poor imitation of it. Although the upcoming model does looks better but one couldn't help noticing too much resemblance to the Mazda 6. Setting Korean cars aside, let’s move to a premium car which in this case I would like to point out the new BMW 5 series. Again, the handling and luxurious features are truly in a class of its own but I must say the styling just couldn’t be more off. It looks so bulky. While the previous models emphasized on sleekness, this one just looks like a Sega Saturn rather than a Sony Playstation. While video gamers have a better sense in preferring the Playstation compared to the Saturn, the same couldn’t be said about BMW enthusiasts. They would buy anything with the BMW logo on it. Regardless of beauty or logical sense. And don't get me started on the 1 Series.
Moving back to our local market I would like to point out the Toyota Avanza. For the first quarter of 2005 this is the second highest selling vehicle in Malaysia, inclusive of imported and locally produced cars. The top rank belongs to the Proton Wira Aeroback 1.3 (A). The Avanza effectively beat, never mind the imported brands, but also the Waja, the Gen.2, the Kancil and the Kelisa. You should notice that in the road nowadays they are practically everywhere. And yet, when you look at them, I don’t think that the first thing that crosses your mind is, “Oh look at that! It’s so beautiful! I have to get one of those!”. The wheels are too small, the stumped rear is an eyesore, the bodywork looks more fragile than a Coca-Cola can and the worst part is Malaysians still buy them in the bucket loads because “they’re new”. Well, I’m pretty sure that tagline would only work in the first 6 weeks and then it just becomes another unattractive and uninspiring vehicle count. And when something ridiculous happens at large it is almost certain Americans are no so far off the picture. Chevrolet is launching a direct rival to the Avanza. It’s called the Spark. It’s going to be cheap, practical and hugely successful despite the fact that it looks like a high-strung bug.
After considering all this, I came to the obvious conclusion that Malaysians generally have a poor sense of taste when it comes to buying cars. Rather than accepting this fact throughout, I did a little survey of my own, just to prove my instincts that there are some of us who really know what makes a beautiful and worthy car.
So I began asking around some of my closest friends. The results were more than comforting. Of course, my male counterparts have no problems at all when it comes to automotive pristine. My schoolmate Gambit prefers the Aston Martin Vanquish. Jedeh thinks the Mazda RX-8 and Mazda 6 are a catch. Big Show likes the X5. Tomok fancies the Altezza. So with that settled, I moved to more daring grounds and asked the women. Since I suspect women don’t consider the styling of their vehicle among the top priorities in their lives compared to Dior's new line of make up or Chanel's Spring/Summer handbag collection. Should I come across a dodgy response, it would surely come from this group of people undoubtedly. Turns out I was wrong. Zalina thinks the new Porches were gorgeous. Jes wouldn’t mind driving around in a BMW or Merc Cabrio. Way back I remembered Sasa just fell in love the Porsche Cayenne, Aritha thinks the new VW Beetle cute and Regina practically drooled when the word R34 Skyline is mentioned.
All in all I think I am fortunate to have associates who know and appreciate beautiful cars. But what is the explanation behind all those 4-whell craps scattered everywhere on Malaysian roads? Well, one good reason I can think of is money. Malaysians, in general, prefer to shop, particularly with cars, with monetary factors in their minds. Hence, the Avanzas and purple colored Gen.2s. Also practicality, which explains the cargo-like Unsers. One couldn't really blame them but despite all this I still think Malaysians should improve on their sense of vehicle appreciation because just like any other investments, a good car is worth the money even though you have to spend a little extra for it. I am a firm believer of that. Fortunately, so does my father.
Malaysians still lack the knowledge of reliability, build quality and depreciation value when it comes to purchasing cars. Space and affordability are the ONLY points of concern. Sure, they will argue that all they want is something to get them from point A to point B. But what if after 6 months, that ‘something’ could only get you halfway through to point B because it broke down while on its way? What is by the time you return to point A, you found out the headlights suddenly went dead and you can’t travel around at night during the weekend because the spare parts shop will open only the coming Monday? Then comes the electric windows that wouldn't wind down, the hollow dashboard and the vibrating steering wheel everytime the speedometer reaches 80 km/h.
As a final word, I would like to hand out certain advices for those who are contemplating on acquiring a new car. Avoid the Skodas because they define ugly, avoid French cars because they’ll broke down even before you turn on the ignition, avoid the Hyundai unless it’s the Getz, avoid Chevrolets unless it’s the Aveo, Japanese makes are always reliable although styling can be a hindrance sometimes, Kias are no better than Proton or Peroduas and if you have a problem on how to chose a good looking car, bring along a 12-year0old boy and let him tell you which car he would like to be driven to school with without being feeling embarrassed. Previously owned cars which are more than 5 years old are bound to have problems. Those aged more than 10 years are likely to spend more time in the car repair shop than in your driveway in the first few months should you choose to purchase it. And you can figure out the costs.
(Clockwise from top right) Toyota Avanza, Chevrolet Spark, Honda CR-V, Toyota Unser, Hyundai Sonata, BMW 5 Series
Wednesday, April 27, 2005
Insomniac
On Monday I had an “Oh shit! What time is it?” morning. My day usually starts at 7.30am should my class begins at 9.30am. I give myself ample time to get ready in the first hour and to travel in the second. All this include buffer time which means time to go view the morning KL skylight from my bedroom window and to enjoy Eurosport while sipping my morning coffee before driving off with Valerie. So even though I woke up at 7.45, there is still no cause for alarm. But on Monday, the answer to my “Oh shit!” question was 8.25am. There was certainly a cause for alarm.
Everything had to be done double-time. ‘Make haste’ as one would put it. That would be the reason that I was almost panting and beads of sweat were rolling off my forehead. Even though 10 minutes late, I kept my cool in taking my seat. And then I realized I forgot to shave. I now looked like Keanu Reeves on the Tonight Show. Naturally good looking but lack of facial hair care just put people off.
As for today, it is the second time for the past 3 weeks I felt sleepy during class. The first time was yesterday. When this happens, my mind and focus is about 70% of its sharpness. As you’ve may guessed it, this is not good.
Well, there is a pretty simple explanation to all this. It is lack of sleep.
The thing is, I already spend my whole weekdays going to class. During the night I do the assigned homework. I usually finish around 12 or 1 and that should be a peachy time for me to go to bed, right? Wrong. Well, at least for me I think. This is when I catch up with the primetime reruns on TV that I missed earlier. When that finishes, it’s time for live football matches. Now those I could not possibly miss. If I miss those, I would wake up an unhappy man the next morning. Only then, I would doze off…usually with the TV still on (my mother hates it when this happens but that’s a different story). So if I’m lucky, I would get around 4 hours of sleep.
The amiable solution would be to recover during the weekends but come on, the weekends are the fun part. This is when you go out and spend leisure time. At night? Well, if you’d check out the latest ad by Astro promoting its sports channels, the tagline says, “From dusk till dawn”. And it’s beautifully true. 7 to 1 is the English Premiership double header, 1 to 3 is the Italian Serie A coverage and the Spanish Primera Liga took over from 4 to 6.
I know this is medically unhealthy. Only recently I heard on the radio that an adult needs to sleep at least 6 hours a day to reduce the likelihood of getting diabetic. This, of course, came from a study done by a group of overseas university students. I did not take the information wholly but it did make me stop and think.
But one thing that bothers me most when I don’t have enough sleep is dreams. You see, based on my personal experience, when you sleep when your body forces you to i.e. your are so tired that the body just shuts down to recharge its batteries (this usually happens when you fall asleep when you are not planning to) which is what I’m experiencing right now, it is very much likely you would not experience any night dreams. My theory is that the brain has used up all it energy (well, not all because then you would be braindead) that it becomes incapable to generate dreams anymore. It just focuses on revitalizing itself. I’m a firm believer in this because when I decide, “Alright, I’m going to bed”, I wake up the next morning with a memory of sweet (although sometimes weird) dreams. Just like last Monday when I became so frustrated with my inability to complete my homework because I was stumped halfway through I decided to call it a day. Although my nightly adventure feels very similar to John Constantine’s life where I was battling demons with the coolness of expression it was still a proper dream.
Ah, here we go…insomnia - chronic inability to fall asleep or remain asleep for an adequate length of time. I think I have this. Oh dear, the word ‘chronic’ doesn’t sound too good does it? Well too bad because I still haven’t done today’s homework and there’s a test tomorrow. Later on Chelsea will be entertaining Liverpool in the Champions League Semi-final first leg. Oh the inhumanity!
For the readers, please note that the author is now giggling uncontrollably and it is unclear whether this is caused by a surge of excitement or a clear sign that he is on the verge of insanity.
Everything had to be done double-time. ‘Make haste’ as one would put it. That would be the reason that I was almost panting and beads of sweat were rolling off my forehead. Even though 10 minutes late, I kept my cool in taking my seat. And then I realized I forgot to shave. I now looked like Keanu Reeves on the Tonight Show. Naturally good looking but lack of facial hair care just put people off.
As for today, it is the second time for the past 3 weeks I felt sleepy during class. The first time was yesterday. When this happens, my mind and focus is about 70% of its sharpness. As you’ve may guessed it, this is not good.
Well, there is a pretty simple explanation to all this. It is lack of sleep.
The thing is, I already spend my whole weekdays going to class. During the night I do the assigned homework. I usually finish around 12 or 1 and that should be a peachy time for me to go to bed, right? Wrong. Well, at least for me I think. This is when I catch up with the primetime reruns on TV that I missed earlier. When that finishes, it’s time for live football matches. Now those I could not possibly miss. If I miss those, I would wake up an unhappy man the next morning. Only then, I would doze off…usually with the TV still on (my mother hates it when this happens but that’s a different story). So if I’m lucky, I would get around 4 hours of sleep.
The amiable solution would be to recover during the weekends but come on, the weekends are the fun part. This is when you go out and spend leisure time. At night? Well, if you’d check out the latest ad by Astro promoting its sports channels, the tagline says, “From dusk till dawn”. And it’s beautifully true. 7 to 1 is the English Premiership double header, 1 to 3 is the Italian Serie A coverage and the Spanish Primera Liga took over from 4 to 6.
I know this is medically unhealthy. Only recently I heard on the radio that an adult needs to sleep at least 6 hours a day to reduce the likelihood of getting diabetic. This, of course, came from a study done by a group of overseas university students. I did not take the information wholly but it did make me stop and think.
But one thing that bothers me most when I don’t have enough sleep is dreams. You see, based on my personal experience, when you sleep when your body forces you to i.e. your are so tired that the body just shuts down to recharge its batteries (this usually happens when you fall asleep when you are not planning to) which is what I’m experiencing right now, it is very much likely you would not experience any night dreams. My theory is that the brain has used up all it energy (well, not all because then you would be braindead) that it becomes incapable to generate dreams anymore. It just focuses on revitalizing itself. I’m a firm believer in this because when I decide, “Alright, I’m going to bed”, I wake up the next morning with a memory of sweet (although sometimes weird) dreams. Just like last Monday when I became so frustrated with my inability to complete my homework because I was stumped halfway through I decided to call it a day. Although my nightly adventure feels very similar to John Constantine’s life where I was battling demons with the coolness of expression it was still a proper dream.
Ah, here we go…insomnia - chronic inability to fall asleep or remain asleep for an adequate length of time. I think I have this. Oh dear, the word ‘chronic’ doesn’t sound too good does it? Well too bad because I still haven’t done today’s homework and there’s a test tomorrow. Later on Chelsea will be entertaining Liverpool in the Champions League Semi-final first leg. Oh the inhumanity!
For the readers, please note that the author is now giggling uncontrollably and it is unclear whether this is caused by a surge of excitement or a clear sign that he is on the verge of insanity.
Sunday, April 24, 2005
Fine Dining
Allan and Barbara Pease pointed that men (as opposed to females, not extra terrestrials) need a certain amount of “fire-gazing” time after a long and tiring day at work. The Peases also said that nowadays fire-gazing is no longer, you know, gazing at the fire per se, as in the stone ages. The variation has evolved but the ritual is still the same which is to do a form of activity which would effectively detach the mind from the day’s earlier commitment and doing it so in utter silence. This could be achieved by watching the TV, read the newspaper or checking e-mails. Of course, being a male, I indulge in some of these activities myself. After a whole day of listening to lectures, upon arrival at home I treat myself to the knowledge of what’s happening to the world at large by browsing through the day’s newspaper and flicking through the sports channel on ASTRO. If I have any extra energy, I would poignantly make myself a nice drink. And all this is done without a single word ever leaving my mouth. At this point I thought, I am feeling fine and fabulous as all my fire-gazing needs are fulfilled. That is until today’s lunchtime.
It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon. The sky is clear and no Hindustani movies on TV. After yesterday’s night out with the family at Sri Hartamas until a little bit past midnight I woke up understandably late today. It was half past 9 and it’s not really late but my father thinks otherwise. Anyway, after lingering around the house with only one eye open I finally managed to prep myself and got treated to a late breakfast. Out of no definite purpose I stumbled into the kitchen and there I saw on the cooking table was a whole fresh siakap (as I understand is Australian Barramundi or just sea bass in English). This to me was a welcome sight. I always refer the siakap as a delicacy. To have one later that day is enticing enough. However, 5 hours later when lunch is served I looked upon the perfectly prepared steamed siakap on the dining table and I felt no excitement. It felt weird and so I took a bite. The taste and texture was gorgeous as usual and yet I felt drab. It was troubling because there I was and not enjoying my meal. There had to be some sort of explanation. Then it occurred to me. I was bored with my food. And the solution wasn’t that hard to figure out. It is fine food.
Recalling my life for the past few months I haven’t been to a fine restaurant for quite some time. This is fire-gazing need. My “long day at work” was having home-cooked meals and the occasional roti naan at Haji Tapah. Somewhere in between is the Colonel’s recipe for fried chickens and a double layered burger called the Big Mac. At this point how much I miss the calming experience of dressing up for dinner and sitting in a relaxing ambience where the waitress or waiter stood by your table, soft spokenly introducing themselves and recommends the day’s chef special with a welcoming smile accompanied by a classical music in the background. As much as I miss the Renaissance or the Regent, I must say the place I miss most is Chili’s. Even though there’s neither calming ambience nor classical music vibrating through the air, the food is just awesome and the service is top notch.
The irony is the reason I no longer have the opportunity to dine at these wonderful places is time. I just don’t have enough of it. I’m in KL 24/7 and yet no time to enjoy the city. When I was at UTP, 240 km away from KL, I would come back at least once in two months and have a very enjoyable meal at a fine restaurant with a few of my friends. I had less time back then and yet I managed. Now, and here, it isn’t so. How come? One obvious reason I could think of is since my usual suspects of friends are now full time employees of various companies the only time to go out and have fun is during the weekends. And, I know you all agree with me on this, the weekend crowd at KL is no fun. During the varsity years, I would come back during the semester breaks and my outings are usually done during the weekdays when the rest of the worker bees are tucked nicely in their respective offices. I used to laugh at them. Now it seems less funny.
There’s only one way out of this. I need to fulfill this urge. I refuse to use the word ‘mengidam’ because I do not want to be in the same category as a woman who is 5 months pregnant. Sadly though, it already Sunday evening and still have a few assignments to work on which means this nuisance will trouble me for the whole of next and the next should I not do something about it. Haih…I tell you this indulgence business really can be bothersome but when you get your hands on it, bellissima, mucho magnifico.
It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon. The sky is clear and no Hindustani movies on TV. After yesterday’s night out with the family at Sri Hartamas until a little bit past midnight I woke up understandably late today. It was half past 9 and it’s not really late but my father thinks otherwise. Anyway, after lingering around the house with only one eye open I finally managed to prep myself and got treated to a late breakfast. Out of no definite purpose I stumbled into the kitchen and there I saw on the cooking table was a whole fresh siakap (as I understand is Australian Barramundi or just sea bass in English). This to me was a welcome sight. I always refer the siakap as a delicacy. To have one later that day is enticing enough. However, 5 hours later when lunch is served I looked upon the perfectly prepared steamed siakap on the dining table and I felt no excitement. It felt weird and so I took a bite. The taste and texture was gorgeous as usual and yet I felt drab. It was troubling because there I was and not enjoying my meal. There had to be some sort of explanation. Then it occurred to me. I was bored with my food. And the solution wasn’t that hard to figure out. It is fine food.
Recalling my life for the past few months I haven’t been to a fine restaurant for quite some time. This is fire-gazing need. My “long day at work” was having home-cooked meals and the occasional roti naan at Haji Tapah. Somewhere in between is the Colonel’s recipe for fried chickens and a double layered burger called the Big Mac. At this point how much I miss the calming experience of dressing up for dinner and sitting in a relaxing ambience where the waitress or waiter stood by your table, soft spokenly introducing themselves and recommends the day’s chef special with a welcoming smile accompanied by a classical music in the background. As much as I miss the Renaissance or the Regent, I must say the place I miss most is Chili’s. Even though there’s neither calming ambience nor classical music vibrating through the air, the food is just awesome and the service is top notch.
The irony is the reason I no longer have the opportunity to dine at these wonderful places is time. I just don’t have enough of it. I’m in KL 24/7 and yet no time to enjoy the city. When I was at UTP, 240 km away from KL, I would come back at least once in two months and have a very enjoyable meal at a fine restaurant with a few of my friends. I had less time back then and yet I managed. Now, and here, it isn’t so. How come? One obvious reason I could think of is since my usual suspects of friends are now full time employees of various companies the only time to go out and have fun is during the weekends. And, I know you all agree with me on this, the weekend crowd at KL is no fun. During the varsity years, I would come back during the semester breaks and my outings are usually done during the weekdays when the rest of the worker bees are tucked nicely in their respective offices. I used to laugh at them. Now it seems less funny.
There’s only one way out of this. I need to fulfill this urge. I refuse to use the word ‘mengidam’ because I do not want to be in the same category as a woman who is 5 months pregnant. Sadly though, it already Sunday evening and still have a few assignments to work on which means this nuisance will trouble me for the whole of next and the next should I not do something about it. Haih…I tell you this indulgence business really can be bothersome but when you get your hands on it, bellissima, mucho magnifico.
Sunday, April 10, 2005
7 Days of MICPA
It’s late evening here in Gombak. The sky is clear and although there is no sound of birds singing nor children laughing, the ambience is of comfort and somewhat reassuring. After spending my whole weekend doing accounting homework I’d say it’s a very welcome setting.
It is now about a week since my CPA programme has started and you know what? I love it. Absolutely giddy. Really, I do and I don’t mean it in a sarcastic way.
Well, for starters, it’s nice to have something to look forward to when you wake up every morning. For the past 3 months, the very first thing that pops into my head when I wake up is, “What’s for breakfast?”. Nowadays, it’s back to, “What time is it?”. Or when I think I overslept, it's "Oh shit, what time is it?". Only then I think about breakfast. The classes starts quite late too, about 9.30/10.00, and it does help to avoid the morning rush hour. Back in the internship days I used to love driving off with Valerie in the still of the mornings. With minor traffic along my way, it was indeed pleasant. Now it’s even better. I get morning walks. Albeit it is in the vicinity of KLCC where the air comprises more of exhaust fumes rather than healthy fresh air. But what makes this all more intriguing is what actually happens in class.
You see, since my high school days, I was never considered a talented boy when it comes to accounting subjects. That’s why I avoided the 10th optional subject of accounting during my SPM years despite people all around kept saying it’s senang. Same thing happened again during my study at UTP. A minor in Financial Management or Corporate Management? As I always associate the words ‘financial’ and ‘accounting’ together I opted for corporate. 2nd year it caught up with me again. Business Accounting was the subject and as predicted, I sucked. I did not fail but I sucked. Years later, here it is yet again. But this time I said to myself, I am trying to be an accountant so that means knowing accounting stuff and by hell if that is what it takes, then I’ll give it my best shot? And guess what? I no longer sucked. As a matter of fact, I’m breezing. I am enjoying doing accounting stuff. Now who would’ve guessed that? Same thing with Business Law. Facts are actually sticking in my head. And taxation? I understood it so much that thoughts of arguments are popping in my head. To tell you the truth, I could hardly believe this myself. I know it’s still too early and everything but with the state I’m in right now, things are looking promising. I, for one, couldn’t help but feel optimistic. The only sad so far was that I had to sacrifice my weekend to do homework. It’s a bit frustrating but in order to achieve that long term goal, I guess I could cut down on some of my funtime. Besides, having fun was what I was doing for the past 3 months.
It is now about a week since my CPA programme has started and you know what? I love it. Absolutely giddy. Really, I do and I don’t mean it in a sarcastic way.
Well, for starters, it’s nice to have something to look forward to when you wake up every morning. For the past 3 months, the very first thing that pops into my head when I wake up is, “What’s for breakfast?”. Nowadays, it’s back to, “What time is it?”. Or when I think I overslept, it's "Oh shit, what time is it?". Only then I think about breakfast. The classes starts quite late too, about 9.30/10.00, and it does help to avoid the morning rush hour. Back in the internship days I used to love driving off with Valerie in the still of the mornings. With minor traffic along my way, it was indeed pleasant. Now it’s even better. I get morning walks. Albeit it is in the vicinity of KLCC where the air comprises more of exhaust fumes rather than healthy fresh air. But what makes this all more intriguing is what actually happens in class.
You see, since my high school days, I was never considered a talented boy when it comes to accounting subjects. That’s why I avoided the 10th optional subject of accounting during my SPM years despite people all around kept saying it’s senang. Same thing happened again during my study at UTP. A minor in Financial Management or Corporate Management? As I always associate the words ‘financial’ and ‘accounting’ together I opted for corporate. 2nd year it caught up with me again. Business Accounting was the subject and as predicted, I sucked. I did not fail but I sucked. Years later, here it is yet again. But this time I said to myself, I am trying to be an accountant so that means knowing accounting stuff and by hell if that is what it takes, then I’ll give it my best shot? And guess what? I no longer sucked. As a matter of fact, I’m breezing. I am enjoying doing accounting stuff. Now who would’ve guessed that? Same thing with Business Law. Facts are actually sticking in my head. And taxation? I understood it so much that thoughts of arguments are popping in my head. To tell you the truth, I could hardly believe this myself. I know it’s still too early and everything but with the state I’m in right now, things are looking promising. I, for one, couldn’t help but feel optimistic. The only sad so far was that I had to sacrifice my weekend to do homework. It’s a bit frustrating but in order to achieve that long term goal, I guess I could cut down on some of my funtime. Besides, having fun was what I was doing for the past 3 months.
Sunday, April 03, 2005
The First Time We've Met?
Sasa just forwarded me an interesting link to a Berita Harian news article. It’s about a UTP student who had just gotten married to his chatting partner. I can tell you 2 things what I think about this:
1) I think it’s cute that there are people out there who actually find their life partners through cyberspace.
2) I also think it’s quite sad.
Just think about it. How do you answer when your first son or daughter came up to you one day and asks, “So tell me, dad, how you and mom meet?”
For starters, you can’t lie to your children. So I imagine the response would go somewhere along these lines:
“Well, we were introduced by a mutual friend,”
“Really? Who?”
“He was my roommate,”
“Cool. So what happens next? You asked mom out for a date? Where’d you go?”
“Erm, no where,”
“What do you mean ‘no where’?”
“Well, we chatted and …”
“Of course you did. That’s what people do on dates. They talk…,”
“… in cyberspace”
“…,”
Your final words trailed off and sounded distant. By this time you have come to realize that your child’s face expression has turned into disbelief. This is due to the fact that his/her mind had gone numb. When you finally decided to reopen your mouth, your son/daughter had apparently left the room.
You see, I don’t want to tell my children that the first time I met their mother was a full 2 months after we started chatting with each other. Quite honestly, I think it’s rather embarrassing. One day, when I receive such a question, I would very much like to reply, “I met your mother on a train journey to Toulouse. I saw her gazing out of the window into the silent night. Thinking it would be a sin to let a beautiful woman like her sitting all alone in the corner so I decided to offer her a little company. The rest was magic”.
Or something like this, “I was driving home late from work at night and I saw this young woman all crumpled up by herself. Obviously cold from the pouring rain. Sympathizing, I offered her a ride home. She never had to take the bus again after that,”
Now that is how you’re suppose to tell that magical story to your first kid. Although my personal favorite has to be, “… I was caught sneaking in your mother’s house when she cornered me in the stables. We got off to a sword duel and, naturally, I won. Just for the fun of it, I snipped off her dress so that she wouldn’t run after me as I was making my escape. I think she was caught breathless after the experience. ‘Vigoruos’, I believe, was the word she used to describe me,”. This, of course, would only happen in small town in Mexico and the father was apparently local town hero that goes by the name of Zorro. Do that in this modern age and time, it could only lead to breaking an entry and sexual harassment charges in court.
Well, back to the original couple, I guess it’s fate that ended being with each other. No matter how they met in the first place. As one old Italian man once said, when asked what does he think about fate, “Destino?” while taking a puff from his old pipe. He then said something in Italian which he immediately repeated in English, “… it is written in the stars,” pointing to the night sky with his worn out cane. “Capische?”. Agreeing, I nodded, “capische…”
But I really do hope I don’t end up in that chat-friend-cyberspace-IRC-messenger-ICQ nonsense. Oh crap, I guess that rules out Siti Nabilah doesn’t it?
Dated April 3rd, 2005. taken from http://www.bharian.com.my
Apparently, this stuff is real. No shit.
Perkahwinan abadikan adat Melayu-Pakistan
Oleh Fadzlena Jafar
TIDAK ramai yang memandang serius hubungan di ruang internet yang bermula dengan sembang atau chit-chat. Tanpa mengenali suara dan wajah rakan sembang itu, sesiapa saja boleh menyamar. Oleh itu, kebanyakan pengguna ruang berkenaan sekadar `bermain' atau bersembang kosong untuk mengisi masa lapang.
Namun, berlainan dengan Nursuziana Zulkifli, 24 dan Mohd Amin Mohd Din, 25, yang membina mahligai bahagia selepas berkenalan di ruang siber lebih setahun lalu. Ikatan yang termeterai kukuh pada 13 Mac lalu itu pada asalnya bermula sebagai rakan sembang sebelum masing-masing mengambil keputusan untuk melafaz janji setia.
"Kami diperkenalkan oleh rakan sebilik saya sekitar Ogos 2003. Ketika itu saya masih belajar di Universiti Teknologi Petronas. Tetapi kami tidak pernah bersua kerana perkenalan hanya setakat di ruang siber. Namun, selepas dua bulan berchatting, kami dapat merasakan ada keserasian antara kami.
"Oleh itu pada Oktober tahun sama, saya berkunjung ke rumah Suzi untuk berkenalan dengan lebih rapat. Berani? Tidak juga<--May I just say that to me, this is the most amusing part of the article. Walaupun kami tidak pernah berjumpa saya dapat rasakan dialah wanita idaman saya. Jadi, saya tetapkan hati untuk bertemu dia," kata Mohd Amin ketika ditemui pada majlis resepsi yang diadakan di Hotel Radius International Kuala Lumpur (KL), baru-baru ini.
Nursuziana berkata, mereka menjalin hubungan jarak jauh menerusi internet kerana ketika itu masing-masing masih belajar di universiti, iaitu beliau di Universiti Multimedia Melaka, manakala Mohd Amin di Tronoh, Perak.
Begitu pun, Mohd Amin yang kini bertugas selaku Jurutera Perisian di sebuah syarikat di ibu kota menganggap pertemuan beliau dengan Nursuziana sebagai takdir memandangkan mereka mengambil tempoh yang singkat sebelum mengambil kata sepakat untuk mendirikan rumah tangga.
Menarik mengenai perkahwinan pasangan sama cantik sama padan ini, majlis perkahwinan mereka dirancang begitu rapi bagi menggambarkan pertemuan dua budaya berbeza Melayu-Pakistan. Ini kerana keluarga Mohd Amin berasal daripada keturunan Pakistan, manakala Nursuziana Melayu Pulau Pinang.
"Saya mendapat idea untuk meraikan ikatan dua hati ini dengan mengadakan majlis perkahwinan dua budaya. Kami mahu pastikan majlis ini menjadi kenangan seumur hidup, jadi setiap perancangan dilakukan dengan teliti.
Di Pulau Pinang, tema warna majlis ialah kuning keemasan dan di Kuala Lumpur pula, merah hati.
"Oleh itu, tema yang kami pilih ini membabitkan semua sekali iaitu daripada barang hantaran, pakaian pengantin hinggalah kepada pelamin dan hiasan. Hantaran saya disediakan ibu saudara, Mami Norjan dan anaknya, manakala sebelah suami pula digubah ibu Amin, Sakena Anvar," kata Nursuziana yang kini bertugas selaku Eksekutif Perhubungan Awam di Hotel Radius International KL.
Pihak pengantin perempuan menyediakan 14 dulang hantaran dan lelaki pula sebanyak 11 dulang. Selain itu, turut disediakan wang hantaran berjumlah RM10,000(despite all the convenience of the Internet, this gal still cost a hefty 10G) dan mas kahwin sebanyak RM200.
Jika di Pulau Pinang, majlis yang diadakan mendapat sentuhan butik andaman Nani Puncak Kasih, tetapi untuk majlis di sebelah pihak lelaki busana lengha dan sherwani diimport khas dari New Delhi.
Majlis resepsi yang diadakan di Kuala Lumpur turut mendapat tajaan HWH (M) Sdn Bhd bagi hiasan pelamin, bunga, hiasan meja dan bilik pengantin. Malah, pasangan berkenaan juga bernasib baik kerana beberapa kemudahan seperti kek pengantin dan bilik mempelai ditaja pihak hotel yang juga majikan Nursuziana.
Nursuziana berkata, pada majlis berkenaan pihaknya turut mengadakan beberapa adat unik yang kini jarang diamalkan dalam perkahwinan masyarakat Islam Pakistan. Antaranya, sebaik mempelai keluar dari kereta bapa pengantin lelaki membaling duit syiling ke arah pengantin sebagai tanda restu.
"Adat berkenaan juga melambangkan bahawa bagi keluarga pengantin lelaki wang ringgit tidak lagi berharga jika dibandingkan dengan kegembiraan untuk menerima menantu mereka. Adat ini semakin dilupakan oleh masyarakat Islam Pakistan hari ini, jadi kami cuba mengembalikan suasana itu.
"Selepas itu, apabila pengantin duduk di pelamin, ibu pengantin lelaki akan membuka untaian kalungan bunga yang menutupi muka kedua mempelai lalu menyuapkan titisan susu sebagai manisan. Ini juga satu adat yang penting dalam budaya Pakistan," katanya.
Satu lagi adat menarik masyarakat berkenaan yang dipertontonkan pada majlis perkahwinan itu ialah acara merebut cincin di dalam sebalang air berwarna keruh yang juga dipenuhi barang lain. Bagi masyarakat berkenaan sekiranya pengantin perempuan yang berjaya mendapat cincin itu, maka beliau akan menjadi pasangan yang lebih dominan. Tetapi jika sebaliknya, dipercayai rumah tangga yang baru dibina akan sentiasa harmoni.
Majlis itu diserikan lagi dengan kehadiran penyanyi tempatan yang terkenal dengan irama Bollywood, Hassan dan tarian banghra. Bagi memperkukuhkan gabungan dua budaya, santapan yang dihidangkan untuk tetamu turut mengambil kira konsep berkenaan iaitu nasi minyak, aloo gobbi, acar buah, ayam madu, daging kurma, dhai (dadih sayur-sayuran) dan pemanis mulut pula krim karamel.
1) I think it’s cute that there are people out there who actually find their life partners through cyberspace.
2) I also think it’s quite sad.
Just think about it. How do you answer when your first son or daughter came up to you one day and asks, “So tell me, dad, how you and mom meet?”
For starters, you can’t lie to your children. So I imagine the response would go somewhere along these lines:
“Well, we were introduced by a mutual friend,”
“Really? Who?”
“He was my roommate,”
“Cool. So what happens next? You asked mom out for a date? Where’d you go?”
“Erm, no where,”
“What do you mean ‘no where’?”
“Well, we chatted and …”
“Of course you did. That’s what people do on dates. They talk…,”
“… in cyberspace”
“…,”
Your final words trailed off and sounded distant. By this time you have come to realize that your child’s face expression has turned into disbelief. This is due to the fact that his/her mind had gone numb. When you finally decided to reopen your mouth, your son/daughter had apparently left the room.
You see, I don’t want to tell my children that the first time I met their mother was a full 2 months after we started chatting with each other. Quite honestly, I think it’s rather embarrassing. One day, when I receive such a question, I would very much like to reply, “I met your mother on a train journey to Toulouse. I saw her gazing out of the window into the silent night. Thinking it would be a sin to let a beautiful woman like her sitting all alone in the corner so I decided to offer her a little company. The rest was magic”.
Or something like this, “I was driving home late from work at night and I saw this young woman all crumpled up by herself. Obviously cold from the pouring rain. Sympathizing, I offered her a ride home. She never had to take the bus again after that,”
Now that is how you’re suppose to tell that magical story to your first kid. Although my personal favorite has to be, “… I was caught sneaking in your mother’s house when she cornered me in the stables. We got off to a sword duel and, naturally, I won. Just for the fun of it, I snipped off her dress so that she wouldn’t run after me as I was making my escape. I think she was caught breathless after the experience. ‘Vigoruos’, I believe, was the word she used to describe me,”. This, of course, would only happen in small town in Mexico and the father was apparently local town hero that goes by the name of Zorro. Do that in this modern age and time, it could only lead to breaking an entry and sexual harassment charges in court.
Well, back to the original couple, I guess it’s fate that ended being with each other. No matter how they met in the first place. As one old Italian man once said, when asked what does he think about fate, “Destino?” while taking a puff from his old pipe. He then said something in Italian which he immediately repeated in English, “… it is written in the stars,” pointing to the night sky with his worn out cane. “Capische?”. Agreeing, I nodded, “capische…”
But I really do hope I don’t end up in that chat-friend-cyberspace-IRC-messenger-ICQ nonsense. Oh crap, I guess that rules out Siti Nabilah doesn’t it?
Dated April 3rd, 2005. taken from http://www.bharian.com.my
Apparently, this stuff is real. No shit.
Perkahwinan abadikan adat Melayu-Pakistan
Oleh Fadzlena Jafar
TIDAK ramai yang memandang serius hubungan di ruang internet yang bermula dengan sembang atau chit-chat. Tanpa mengenali suara dan wajah rakan sembang itu, sesiapa saja boleh menyamar. Oleh itu, kebanyakan pengguna ruang berkenaan sekadar `bermain' atau bersembang kosong untuk mengisi masa lapang.
Namun, berlainan dengan Nursuziana Zulkifli, 24 dan Mohd Amin Mohd Din, 25, yang membina mahligai bahagia selepas berkenalan di ruang siber lebih setahun lalu. Ikatan yang termeterai kukuh pada 13 Mac lalu itu pada asalnya bermula sebagai rakan sembang sebelum masing-masing mengambil keputusan untuk melafaz janji setia.
"Kami diperkenalkan oleh rakan sebilik saya sekitar Ogos 2003. Ketika itu saya masih belajar di Universiti Teknologi Petronas. Tetapi kami tidak pernah bersua kerana perkenalan hanya setakat di ruang siber. Namun, selepas dua bulan berchatting, kami dapat merasakan ada keserasian antara kami.
"Oleh itu pada Oktober tahun sama, saya berkunjung ke rumah Suzi untuk berkenalan dengan lebih rapat. Berani? Tidak juga<--May I just say that to me, this is the most amusing part of the article. Walaupun kami tidak pernah berjumpa saya dapat rasakan dialah wanita idaman saya. Jadi, saya tetapkan hati untuk bertemu dia," kata Mohd Amin ketika ditemui pada majlis resepsi yang diadakan di Hotel Radius International Kuala Lumpur (KL), baru-baru ini.
Nursuziana berkata, mereka menjalin hubungan jarak jauh menerusi internet kerana ketika itu masing-masing masih belajar di universiti, iaitu beliau di Universiti Multimedia Melaka, manakala Mohd Amin di Tronoh, Perak.
Begitu pun, Mohd Amin yang kini bertugas selaku Jurutera Perisian di sebuah syarikat di ibu kota menganggap pertemuan beliau dengan Nursuziana sebagai takdir memandangkan mereka mengambil tempoh yang singkat sebelum mengambil kata sepakat untuk mendirikan rumah tangga.
Menarik mengenai perkahwinan pasangan sama cantik sama padan ini, majlis perkahwinan mereka dirancang begitu rapi bagi menggambarkan pertemuan dua budaya berbeza Melayu-Pakistan. Ini kerana keluarga Mohd Amin berasal daripada keturunan Pakistan, manakala Nursuziana Melayu Pulau Pinang.
"Saya mendapat idea untuk meraikan ikatan dua hati ini dengan mengadakan majlis perkahwinan dua budaya. Kami mahu pastikan majlis ini menjadi kenangan seumur hidup, jadi setiap perancangan dilakukan dengan teliti.
Di Pulau Pinang, tema warna majlis ialah kuning keemasan dan di Kuala Lumpur pula, merah hati.
"Oleh itu, tema yang kami pilih ini membabitkan semua sekali iaitu daripada barang hantaran, pakaian pengantin hinggalah kepada pelamin dan hiasan. Hantaran saya disediakan ibu saudara, Mami Norjan dan anaknya, manakala sebelah suami pula digubah ibu Amin, Sakena Anvar," kata Nursuziana yang kini bertugas selaku Eksekutif Perhubungan Awam di Hotel Radius International KL.
Pihak pengantin perempuan menyediakan 14 dulang hantaran dan lelaki pula sebanyak 11 dulang. Selain itu, turut disediakan wang hantaran berjumlah RM10,000(despite all the convenience of the Internet, this gal still cost a hefty 10G) dan mas kahwin sebanyak RM200.
Jika di Pulau Pinang, majlis yang diadakan mendapat sentuhan butik andaman Nani Puncak Kasih, tetapi untuk majlis di sebelah pihak lelaki busana lengha dan sherwani diimport khas dari New Delhi.
Majlis resepsi yang diadakan di Kuala Lumpur turut mendapat tajaan HWH (M) Sdn Bhd bagi hiasan pelamin, bunga, hiasan meja dan bilik pengantin. Malah, pasangan berkenaan juga bernasib baik kerana beberapa kemudahan seperti kek pengantin dan bilik mempelai ditaja pihak hotel yang juga majikan Nursuziana.
Nursuziana berkata, pada majlis berkenaan pihaknya turut mengadakan beberapa adat unik yang kini jarang diamalkan dalam perkahwinan masyarakat Islam Pakistan. Antaranya, sebaik mempelai keluar dari kereta bapa pengantin lelaki membaling duit syiling ke arah pengantin sebagai tanda restu.
"Adat berkenaan juga melambangkan bahawa bagi keluarga pengantin lelaki wang ringgit tidak lagi berharga jika dibandingkan dengan kegembiraan untuk menerima menantu mereka. Adat ini semakin dilupakan oleh masyarakat Islam Pakistan hari ini, jadi kami cuba mengembalikan suasana itu.
"Selepas itu, apabila pengantin duduk di pelamin, ibu pengantin lelaki akan membuka untaian kalungan bunga yang menutupi muka kedua mempelai lalu menyuapkan titisan susu sebagai manisan. Ini juga satu adat yang penting dalam budaya Pakistan," katanya.
Satu lagi adat menarik masyarakat berkenaan yang dipertontonkan pada majlis perkahwinan itu ialah acara merebut cincin di dalam sebalang air berwarna keruh yang juga dipenuhi barang lain. Bagi masyarakat berkenaan sekiranya pengantin perempuan yang berjaya mendapat cincin itu, maka beliau akan menjadi pasangan yang lebih dominan. Tetapi jika sebaliknya, dipercayai rumah tangga yang baru dibina akan sentiasa harmoni.
Majlis itu diserikan lagi dengan kehadiran penyanyi tempatan yang terkenal dengan irama Bollywood, Hassan dan tarian banghra. Bagi memperkukuhkan gabungan dua budaya, santapan yang dihidangkan untuk tetamu turut mengambil kira konsep berkenaan iaitu nasi minyak, aloo gobbi, acar buah, ayam madu, daging kurma, dhai (dadih sayur-sayuran) dan pemanis mulut pula krim karamel.
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
The Career Talk and Peer Pressure in Marriage
It’s 11.42 pm on a Monday. I turned on the tap of my bathroom sink and the water was chillingly cold. I couldn’t help myself but smile. You see, it has been raining constantly during the weekend. Something that hasn’t happened in more than a few months. That could only mean one thing…the end of the dry season. Usually when I turned on the tap, be it 3 o’clock in the morning even, the water is at best warm. During the day time, well, let’s just say that I would not be surprised if I could boil an egg with it.
So, with the Earth finally beginning to distance itself a bit from the Sun, I must say I couldn’t be happier. Well, it’s more grey and wet nowadays but, hey, I much prefer it this way.
In exactly 7 days my ACCA program will commence. Yes ladies and gentlemen, the wheels are finally turning. In about time too. It’s been about 3 months I have been loitering and doing nothing. Well, not really nothing, just things that I find amusing and fun to do. Sometimes things are not that amusing but still I had to do. In any case, I’m feeling rather excited because lately the sense of boredom and loneliness has been settling in more frequently than I would like. It is an obvious indication that it is time I need something big to put in my life. An agenda. A sense of purpose. In this case financial management and taxation laws. All of previous students and even current ones that I have met has something bad to say about the program. Usually that it is difficult and take a lot of your free time. Erm, make that all of your free time. Still, despite all this, I am undeterred and sort of, dare I say it, motivated by it. I guess it began when Mr. Faiz, a partner at PWC, said these words:
“…after that, there is no end on how far you can go,”
“that” referring to succeeding in becoming a CPA. At that moment I thought, that’s the best damn plan I have ever heard of. Sure it’s going to be hard. It’s going to be stressful. It’s going to be long hours and hard work. Not to mention no social life. Relationships? Only with my colleagues if I’m lucky. But if it means an Aston Martin and an Avenue K apartment in the future, I’d say it’s worth a shot. Some people have doubts. I have ambition.
Now, moving on to other matters, yesterday while I was cruising at 70 km/h along the streets of Kuala Lumpur, one disturbing thought hit me. It concerns the matter pertaining the words ‘peer pressure’. What it means is you are pressured into doing something that you at first were not willing to do but since everybody else around you is doing it, you thought, what the hell, I’ll join in. Usually ignoring the fact whether it’s right or wrong. I have been subjected to numerous types of peer pressures during my teenage years. Fortunately though, I managed to keep myself away from the really bad ones. Meaning sex, drugs and alcohol. Hell I don’t even smoke. Ain’t I a pretty boy then? Tsk. Anyway, some less harmful influences I permit myself into such as going out illegally at night during my time at boarding school and watch Zahid and Co perform every weekend during a certain period last year. But all this is just mincemeat. I never really give them much thought because the matter of fact is, they were never significant issues in my life worth pondering about. That is, until yesterday when a certain word just suddenly popped into my head. It was the dreaded ‘M’ word…..Marriage.
Back then, when it was about a new bicycle, a red New York Yankee cap or SMS-ing your friend 10 times through because is still cheaper than actually calling him or her, those are all phases. Bicycles stored away when you learn to take public transport. Fred Durst suddenly became yesterday’s news and SMS is...well, still going strong I suppose. But marriage? Whoa, that one stays…forever. You see, I can deal if all my friends have IPods. I can deal if all of them had tried this fabulous new restaurant which I haven’t time to go to just yet and had a great time. I can deal if all of them visited Venice one way or another. But if all of them gets married. The only thing I can say is ‘Oh shait…’.
When people get married, they change. It’s a known fact. That’s why it’s called settling down because that’s what it is…settling down. The spouse or family becomes their number one priority. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just that when you do get together, it becomes awkward because conversation topics of single people and married people differ too much. It’s like oil and water. If you can’t even agree on a decent conversation, don’t even think of going out together. It will only end in confusion.
But of course, it’s still bearable if only a couple of your friends were in that situation. But then one day you realize, more and more are getting married until someday you are left as the only one. You keep going to these people’s weddings and every time you attend them you get the Bridget Jones treatment. Soon enough you begin to despise weddings. But you can’t hate your friends. Their next steps in life cannot be perceived as poison in yours. So, the question is, when you are in that kind of situation, what do you do? It’s pretty daunting isn’t it? Scary even. Well, for one, you can get married too and have those lovely talks about your latest island vacation or the new schools you plan to enroll you children in. But wouldn’t that be you’re getting married because everyone else is doing it? What happened to the journey of finding true love? What if you’re marriage crumbles after 2 years because of incompatibility? Questions after questions after questions. There is no end you know. So far, I have yet to come to that situation thankfully. But the possibility of it coming one day is not far fetched. The problem is for me now is I’m not even slightly interested in marriage. But I do have friends who are in serious relationships and you would expect them to lead somewhere. Some even put a deadline on their days of being a bachelor. These are signs. Signs which are putting me in discomfort.
…
Well, I can tell you one thing though, I am spending too much time dwelling on this thought. Which makes even more sense for me to go out, meet new people and attract me to different things. Who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone. Someone’s who’s charming and beautiful and knows that the Louvre is not a name of a dessert. And maybe in the end, the one to start this entire peer pressure marriage thing is me. Now wouldn’t that be an interesting turn of events?
So, with the Earth finally beginning to distance itself a bit from the Sun, I must say I couldn’t be happier. Well, it’s more grey and wet nowadays but, hey, I much prefer it this way.
In exactly 7 days my ACCA program will commence. Yes ladies and gentlemen, the wheels are finally turning. In about time too. It’s been about 3 months I have been loitering and doing nothing. Well, not really nothing, just things that I find amusing and fun to do. Sometimes things are not that amusing but still I had to do. In any case, I’m feeling rather excited because lately the sense of boredom and loneliness has been settling in more frequently than I would like. It is an obvious indication that it is time I need something big to put in my life. An agenda. A sense of purpose. In this case financial management and taxation laws. All of previous students and even current ones that I have met has something bad to say about the program. Usually that it is difficult and take a lot of your free time. Erm, make that all of your free time. Still, despite all this, I am undeterred and sort of, dare I say it, motivated by it. I guess it began when Mr. Faiz, a partner at PWC, said these words:
“…after that, there is no end on how far you can go,”
“that” referring to succeeding in becoming a CPA. At that moment I thought, that’s the best damn plan I have ever heard of. Sure it’s going to be hard. It’s going to be stressful. It’s going to be long hours and hard work. Not to mention no social life. Relationships? Only with my colleagues if I’m lucky. But if it means an Aston Martin and an Avenue K apartment in the future, I’d say it’s worth a shot. Some people have doubts. I have ambition.
Now, moving on to other matters, yesterday while I was cruising at 70 km/h along the streets of Kuala Lumpur, one disturbing thought hit me. It concerns the matter pertaining the words ‘peer pressure’. What it means is you are pressured into doing something that you at first were not willing to do but since everybody else around you is doing it, you thought, what the hell, I’ll join in. Usually ignoring the fact whether it’s right or wrong. I have been subjected to numerous types of peer pressures during my teenage years. Fortunately though, I managed to keep myself away from the really bad ones. Meaning sex, drugs and alcohol. Hell I don’t even smoke. Ain’t I a pretty boy then? Tsk. Anyway, some less harmful influences I permit myself into such as going out illegally at night during my time at boarding school and watch Zahid and Co perform every weekend during a certain period last year. But all this is just mincemeat. I never really give them much thought because the matter of fact is, they were never significant issues in my life worth pondering about. That is, until yesterday when a certain word just suddenly popped into my head. It was the dreaded ‘M’ word…..Marriage.
Back then, when it was about a new bicycle, a red New York Yankee cap or SMS-ing your friend 10 times through because is still cheaper than actually calling him or her, those are all phases. Bicycles stored away when you learn to take public transport. Fred Durst suddenly became yesterday’s news and SMS is...well, still going strong I suppose. But marriage? Whoa, that one stays…forever. You see, I can deal if all my friends have IPods. I can deal if all of them had tried this fabulous new restaurant which I haven’t time to go to just yet and had a great time. I can deal if all of them visited Venice one way or another. But if all of them gets married. The only thing I can say is ‘Oh shait…’.
When people get married, they change. It’s a known fact. That’s why it’s called settling down because that’s what it is…settling down. The spouse or family becomes their number one priority. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just that when you do get together, it becomes awkward because conversation topics of single people and married people differ too much. It’s like oil and water. If you can’t even agree on a decent conversation, don’t even think of going out together. It will only end in confusion.
But of course, it’s still bearable if only a couple of your friends were in that situation. But then one day you realize, more and more are getting married until someday you are left as the only one. You keep going to these people’s weddings and every time you attend them you get the Bridget Jones treatment. Soon enough you begin to despise weddings. But you can’t hate your friends. Their next steps in life cannot be perceived as poison in yours. So, the question is, when you are in that kind of situation, what do you do? It’s pretty daunting isn’t it? Scary even. Well, for one, you can get married too and have those lovely talks about your latest island vacation or the new schools you plan to enroll you children in. But wouldn’t that be you’re getting married because everyone else is doing it? What happened to the journey of finding true love? What if you’re marriage crumbles after 2 years because of incompatibility? Questions after questions after questions. There is no end you know. So far, I have yet to come to that situation thankfully. But the possibility of it coming one day is not far fetched. The problem is for me now is I’m not even slightly interested in marriage. But I do have friends who are in serious relationships and you would expect them to lead somewhere. Some even put a deadline on their days of being a bachelor. These are signs. Signs which are putting me in discomfort.
…
Well, I can tell you one thing though, I am spending too much time dwelling on this thought. Which makes even more sense for me to go out, meet new people and attract me to different things. Who knows, maybe I’ll meet someone. Someone’s who’s charming and beautiful and knows that the Louvre is not a name of a dessert. And maybe in the end, the one to start this entire peer pressure marriage thing is me. Now wouldn’t that be an interesting turn of events?
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Unpoetic and a touch of Black
This is my 3rd attempt on the opening for this blog entry. By this time I have given up on being poetic. This, I’m afraid, would be my least poetic blog.
The last time I updated anything was March 1st. Today is the 19th. For those who don’t know maths, that’s a bloody long time. I just had to put something before I myself go mad looking at the page’s inactiveness.
For starters, I couldn’t find an interesting topic to discuss. That itself is already poor. So, I might just end up describing what I have done today and that is rather dull. Not that I haven’t done anything but I would prefer some zest in my storytelling. That’d be more interesting.
Anyway, I’d like to say that I had sex with Carmen Electra today. 3 times in fact. In the morning, afternoon, dusk and preferably more later tonight. Well, it’s still only 11. But the matter of truth is I couldn’t. The most obvious reason would be that there’s no way in hell Carmen knows me let alone have sex with me.
I did, however, went to Sepang to catch the Formula 1 qualifying session. One embarrassing fact is despite my brother’s involvement with Sauber for the past 2 years or so, I, the younger brother, have yet to catch a live race. This is due to people talking of how Sepang gets insanely hot and you could hardly enjoy the race as trying to breath under the intense heat. So I thought, well then, I’m better off at home sitting in my sofa with a cold beverage in my hand. That’s how it has been for the past few years. Then suddenly yesterday, my brother asked me to come along as he got extra complimentary tickets. What the hell, right? It’s free so might as well go. And you now what? I had no single regrets.
Hearing the V10s live is an unbelievable experience. The TV just doesn’t do justice no matter how big the size is. There are a few things in this world that just couldn’t be described by words and I can honestly say this is one of them. The shrieking sound of the engines as it blasts off is just unforgettable. I was trembling in joy. But sadly, I probably couldn’t make it to the race tomorrow. That would be something. But for next year, I want to make sure that I’ll be there.
Apart from that, the MiGs were equally impressive. I saw Eiwa present too but I find myself restraining from calling out to her. I wonder why. Oh I also met Farhan. Ara’s ex. Turns out she’s my cousin’s boyfriend. Well, at least it confirmed my suspicion. It turns out all this while the talk of the other girl happens to be my cousin. How weird my world is turning into. My mortal fear is whether they’ll decide to get married one day. Now that would be really weird. And what if they don’t? They broke up and my cousin is left broken hearted? Oh hell this is too much for me at the moment. Change of topic…
Still at Sepang, I came across this absolutely beautiful Petronas booth girl. Graceful poise, heavenly smile, sumptuous body, adorable hands and her fragrance is beyond words. I just hope she doesn’t smoke. Or be over 23 for that matter.
In other unrelated news, the Genting trip might still be on. Probably next week after weeks of delay. My ACCA program starts April 4th. My maid is terribly sick and had to be warded at the hospital which means I have to once again don the title of Desperate Housewife. “Housewife” meaning I have to take care of the family laundry, get breakfast/lunch on my own (probably even trying out some of Jamie Oliver’s work while I’m at it), take care of the cats, the plants and everything else that needed attention around the house. If only the title Man of the House brings me the luxury of taking care of 5 cheerleaders like Tommy Lee Jones, that would’ve been sweet. “Desperate” meaning I have to once again neglect all of my daily pleasures to divert my attention to house chores. Just when I’m thinking of getting myself a haircut. You see I usually go to Suria but since Jantzen shut its operation there I have to go all the way to Mid Valley. And I just hate how the traffic is during weekends. And there’s still the question of Hitch and Sepet.
More unrelated news, I just found out Datuk Michelle Yeoh is engaged to Jean Todt. By that, I regard her as the most successful Malaysian that I know.
And some lapuk news, I did get to meet Ity and I DID get to cubit her pipi. Haha I have meant to do that a long time. Sad part is I only get to spend time with her for just about 15 minutes or so. Same thing happened with Jes. She was leaving for Bintulu and I was able to meet her for just about 30 minutes. Not that great I tell you. It’s been about a week already. I wonder how she’s doing.
Oh crap. I think I’ve ran out of ideas. Oh yeah, Chelsea beat Barcelona recently so joy there.
My cousin was blessed with a new born baby 2 days ago which inevitably made everyone in the family notched up a level in terms of seniority. The ‘kakak’ becomes ‘makcik’ and the ‘makcik’ becomes ‘nenek’. Blimey.
That had to be the worst blog entry ever to grace my page. But nevertheless, commendably lengthy. Well, cheerio to all.
The last time I updated anything was March 1st. Today is the 19th. For those who don’t know maths, that’s a bloody long time. I just had to put something before I myself go mad looking at the page’s inactiveness.
For starters, I couldn’t find an interesting topic to discuss. That itself is already poor. So, I might just end up describing what I have done today and that is rather dull. Not that I haven’t done anything but I would prefer some zest in my storytelling. That’d be more interesting.
Anyway, I’d like to say that I had sex with Carmen Electra today. 3 times in fact. In the morning, afternoon, dusk and preferably more later tonight. Well, it’s still only 11. But the matter of truth is I couldn’t. The most obvious reason would be that there’s no way in hell Carmen knows me let alone have sex with me.
I did, however, went to Sepang to catch the Formula 1 qualifying session. One embarrassing fact is despite my brother’s involvement with Sauber for the past 2 years or so, I, the younger brother, have yet to catch a live race. This is due to people talking of how Sepang gets insanely hot and you could hardly enjoy the race as trying to breath under the intense heat. So I thought, well then, I’m better off at home sitting in my sofa with a cold beverage in my hand. That’s how it has been for the past few years. Then suddenly yesterday, my brother asked me to come along as he got extra complimentary tickets. What the hell, right? It’s free so might as well go. And you now what? I had no single regrets.
Hearing the V10s live is an unbelievable experience. The TV just doesn’t do justice no matter how big the size is. There are a few things in this world that just couldn’t be described by words and I can honestly say this is one of them. The shrieking sound of the engines as it blasts off is just unforgettable. I was trembling in joy. But sadly, I probably couldn’t make it to the race tomorrow. That would be something. But for next year, I want to make sure that I’ll be there.
Apart from that, the MiGs were equally impressive. I saw Eiwa present too but I find myself restraining from calling out to her. I wonder why. Oh I also met Farhan. Ara’s ex. Turns out she’s my cousin’s boyfriend. Well, at least it confirmed my suspicion. It turns out all this while the talk of the other girl happens to be my cousin. How weird my world is turning into. My mortal fear is whether they’ll decide to get married one day. Now that would be really weird. And what if they don’t? They broke up and my cousin is left broken hearted? Oh hell this is too much for me at the moment. Change of topic…
Still at Sepang, I came across this absolutely beautiful Petronas booth girl. Graceful poise, heavenly smile, sumptuous body, adorable hands and her fragrance is beyond words. I just hope she doesn’t smoke. Or be over 23 for that matter.
In other unrelated news, the Genting trip might still be on. Probably next week after weeks of delay. My ACCA program starts April 4th. My maid is terribly sick and had to be warded at the hospital which means I have to once again don the title of Desperate Housewife. “Housewife” meaning I have to take care of the family laundry, get breakfast/lunch on my own (probably even trying out some of Jamie Oliver’s work while I’m at it), take care of the cats, the plants and everything else that needed attention around the house. If only the title Man of the House brings me the luxury of taking care of 5 cheerleaders like Tommy Lee Jones, that would’ve been sweet. “Desperate” meaning I have to once again neglect all of my daily pleasures to divert my attention to house chores. Just when I’m thinking of getting myself a haircut. You see I usually go to Suria but since Jantzen shut its operation there I have to go all the way to Mid Valley. And I just hate how the traffic is during weekends. And there’s still the question of Hitch and Sepet.
More unrelated news, I just found out Datuk Michelle Yeoh is engaged to Jean Todt. By that, I regard her as the most successful Malaysian that I know.
And some lapuk news, I did get to meet Ity and I DID get to cubit her pipi. Haha I have meant to do that a long time. Sad part is I only get to spend time with her for just about 15 minutes or so. Same thing happened with Jes. She was leaving for Bintulu and I was able to meet her for just about 30 minutes. Not that great I tell you. It’s been about a week already. I wonder how she’s doing.
Oh crap. I think I’ve ran out of ideas. Oh yeah, Chelsea beat Barcelona recently so joy there.
My cousin was blessed with a new born baby 2 days ago which inevitably made everyone in the family notched up a level in terms of seniority. The ‘kakak’ becomes ‘makcik’ and the ‘makcik’ becomes ‘nenek’. Blimey.
That had to be the worst blog entry ever to grace my page. But nevertheless, commendably lengthy. Well, cheerio to all.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
The 77th, Keanu and Two Lovely Ladies that I'm about to meet
Now, being down in despair up until the 79th minute, I was getting ready for bed. But when the tables were suddenly turned, adrenaline rushed through my veins and I was fresh immediately. Of course, in an upbeat mood after seeing the Carling Cup aloft above John Terry’s head, I find myself flicking trough Astro at 2 o’clock in the morning. It wasn’t long before I stumbled upon Aliens and Dreamcatcher. Oh and guess what? The Milan derby was on soon after. But of course, when the time shows 4.30 am, I usually couldn’t keep my eyes open. Sure enough, I dozed off, sprawling in front of the TV even before halftime (no big regrets there because Milan won by a marginal 1-0).
When I got up at noon the next day, wait, it was technically the same day, so, erm, 7 hours later, I decided that I got to watch Constantine before the cinemas end its run. So, there I was, cruising along the causeway towards One Utama when a radio DJ of Red started to announce the winners list of the Academy Awards. In a split second I realized that I just slept through a live telecast of the Academy Awards earlier in the morning. I just went, “Oh shit!!”. With my left hand on the steering wheel and my right hand up against my mouth, I just kept wondering how the hell could I have forgotten about this? I saw the Golden Globes, I saw the Grammys, even a few minutes of Bafta but I missed the big one? It was so absurd. Now, sitting there, I did not just realized that I missed the live telecast but now I know who the big winners were. Even if I do catch a repeat later that night (which I did), the surprise element would no longer be there. Haih…
Oh well, at least Constantine was amusing. Lucifer was funny in a devilish way and Gabriel reminded me of Cate Blanchett in the Aviator.
Enough with the grumbling, it is time for some, well, I shall say rather exciting news. If everything goes to plan, I will be entertaining two distinguished guests this week. One will be traveling from the North and the other from the South.
The North gal is of course Jesmin Jamel and it’s always fun when comes down here. ETA should be tomorrow or the day after but nothing is sure yet until she confirms it. And as usual, I have no idea where to take her jalan-jalan except to KLCC where she’ll be reporting for duty. However, one thing’s for sure with Jes is that every time I pick her up at Subang, the moment steps into the car she would declare her state of hunger and demands to be fed A.S.A.P. In Jes’ case, that means immediately. I have seen her in a state of hunger before and it ain’t pretty. So, just better to, you know, feed her…
The lady from the South will be Ity Nadira. This lady has been planning to come to KL since before the supposedly PD trip, which was before the tsunami incident and that means around the end of December. Well, it’s March now and seeing her face again would be much of a pleasure. But, again, I really don’t know where to take her jalan- jalan also since her best entourage, Sasa has to attend an RHB hi-tea thingy and until that party’s over, it is up to me to whisk Ity Nadira. Apart from the main shopping complexes located conveniently around the city, I don’t know what else that could interest her. Well, at least I can on Apau for a few ideas. Unless if it’s BB then I have to count myself out. No bloody hell am I going to bring my ass there.
I guess that’s it for now. Hopefully more will come next time around. If you’ll excuse me, I have loads of O.C., Desperate Housewives and CSIs to watch. They’re suffocating my HD.
When I got up at noon the next day, wait, it was technically the same day, so, erm, 7 hours later, I decided that I got to watch Constantine before the cinemas end its run. So, there I was, cruising along the causeway towards One Utama when a radio DJ of Red started to announce the winners list of the Academy Awards. In a split second I realized that I just slept through a live telecast of the Academy Awards earlier in the morning. I just went, “Oh shit!!”. With my left hand on the steering wheel and my right hand up against my mouth, I just kept wondering how the hell could I have forgotten about this? I saw the Golden Globes, I saw the Grammys, even a few minutes of Bafta but I missed the big one? It was so absurd. Now, sitting there, I did not just realized that I missed the live telecast but now I know who the big winners were. Even if I do catch a repeat later that night (which I did), the surprise element would no longer be there. Haih…
Oh well, at least Constantine was amusing. Lucifer was funny in a devilish way and Gabriel reminded me of Cate Blanchett in the Aviator.
Enough with the grumbling, it is time for some, well, I shall say rather exciting news. If everything goes to plan, I will be entertaining two distinguished guests this week. One will be traveling from the North and the other from the South.
The North gal is of course Jesmin Jamel and it’s always fun when comes down here. ETA should be tomorrow or the day after but nothing is sure yet until she confirms it. And as usual, I have no idea where to take her jalan-jalan except to KLCC where she’ll be reporting for duty. However, one thing’s for sure with Jes is that every time I pick her up at Subang, the moment steps into the car she would declare her state of hunger and demands to be fed A.S.A.P. In Jes’ case, that means immediately. I have seen her in a state of hunger before and it ain’t pretty. So, just better to, you know, feed her…
The lady from the South will be Ity Nadira. This lady has been planning to come to KL since before the supposedly PD trip, which was before the tsunami incident and that means around the end of December. Well, it’s March now and seeing her face again would be much of a pleasure. But, again, I really don’t know where to take her jalan- jalan also since her best entourage, Sasa has to attend an RHB hi-tea thingy and until that party’s over, it is up to me to whisk Ity Nadira. Apart from the main shopping complexes located conveniently around the city, I don’t know what else that could interest her. Well, at least I can on Apau for a few ideas. Unless if it’s BB then I have to count myself out. No bloody hell am I going to bring my ass there.
I guess that’s it for now. Hopefully more will come next time around. If you’ll excuse me, I have loads of O.C., Desperate Housewives and CSIs to watch. They’re suffocating my HD.
Triumphant Chelsea!!
After the defeat at Newcastle and at the Nou Camp, even I, myself, had some doubts going into Sunday’s match at Cardiff. With Riise’s sharp thunderbolt inside 44 seconds, I feared the worst. Nightmares are suddenly becoming a reality. Thankfully, fate had other ideas. When Steven Gerard headed a harmless cross into his own goal, magic was restored. 3-2 it was after extra time and Chelsea have bagged its first silverware of the season. Not really much of a bragging right as Sir Alex and Monsieur Wenger couldn’t care less about the Carling Cup. Nevertheless, a trophy is still a trophy and Jose Mourinho was the toast of the Blue half of London.
Ladies and gentlemen, raise your glasses and pay tribute to Chelsea Football Club. Next will be the Premiership crown, 50 years in the waiting.
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