Monday, July 31, 2006

My Prayer

May there be justice in Lebanon.
May there be peace in the Middle East.
May there be hope for the living,
And Paradise for the deceased.

Thursday, July 27, 2006

Drive Carefully

Keep on Running

One of my favorite bloggers commented that I should “[s]top working so hard!”, and when I read that, I went numb. For some reason, it was completely awkward to hear that because all I have been hearing from my environment was to push and to push for results. I have indeed become so goal-oriented, so completely mad over work that I have become one of those people that constantly think about what was said in a meeting or developing key recommendations in their minds, even when dear-dear friends are talking to them.

“So what do you think?”


“You weren’t listening, were you?”

Sorry, I was just thinking about work.

“I hate it when you do that.”

It makes me wonder whether my drive and determination to succeed at my job has gotten me speeding down the career highway without ever appreciating my surroundings at all – the trees, the people, and the homes. The funny thing is that I am not sure whether it is a problem, because I love how my life is going. My friendships with my comrades are undeniable. My finances are in control. My family is still the best thing in my life. The only thing that I have been worrying over is my health.

(My back is still killing me.)

It has since April, and the nerves starting from my back all the way down to my left feet feels painful, every second I wake up, every minute I drive my car, every hour I am at my cubicle. I try to keep my mind busy and distracted from the pain, but when I do sit down for a breather, the pain just keeps reminding me that “hey, you are not as strong as you think.” And I cannot bear that.

So doctor, what’s wrong with me?

“It’s obvious that it’s a slip disk and although your condition has 60 percent improved, you are still 40 percent away from being completely cured.”

So what now?

“You have to do an MRI scan. We will see if you need to do surgery.”

When I was waiting for my turn at the clinic’s sitting area to get more packets of painkillers, I thought to myself that all my hopes and dreams can easily crumble down because of my health. And I hope, my dear readers, you understand this because I have, the hard way.

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Rice Fields

Schnitzel my nitzel

These days, I tell myself to meet with my comrades a minimum once per week. I can say that this personal agenda to hold on to the last threads of my drifting friendships, especially against my overwhelming work schedule, can fail at times. However, due to my killer ability to persuade, I am now able to meet with Kobis three times per week, as he got convinced (by, ahem, me) that he needed to join my gym to get rid of his “excess and growing baggage”.

One evening, after gym, we decided to go eat dinner at Secret Recipe. After a few minutes of munching on grilled chicken kebab and rice, Kobis posed me a question on the subject of lurve. “Tell me man, who you would not date?”

Say what?

“Minah mana engkau tak nak?”

That’s easy, I said. Never royalties, celebrities or lawyers.

“Why man?”

I have my reasons.

Kobis sipped on his Coke, paused, and said, “Never say never, man. Look at me. I am dating a German.”


In his previous life, Kobis would only date and fall in love with strings of beautiful Chinese girls. Although he has dated a few Malays, he would always tell me that he never saw himself dating a Minah Salleh. “I don’t know,” he would always tell me, “They can be gorgeous. But I am just not attracted to them.”

Months forward, over coffee and chocolate cake, he introduced me to a tall, blond German to which he found sparks with in Hong Kong. How did this happen? I whispered to him. “I don’t know,” he replied, “It just did.”


“You know what man? Lately, I am looking at only white girls.”

Hahaha, that’s cool, I said. I guess you are becoming the male version of sawah padi girl.


You are the male version of a sawah padi girl.

“It’s sarong party girl lah mangkuk!”

Monday, July 24, 2006

It's In The Cards

Luna is Loony

A few weekends ago, May called me up to remind me to have a social life again. It’s been ages, I groaned. “Well then we must,” she responded. As an initiative, she told me that she will drive, and I said okay, why not.

Once I got into her car and we headed down the NKVE to KL, she told me that she recently visited a Tarot reader. Oh wow, I said, so what does your future hold? “It’s not about the future, Muds,” she said, while speeding down the highway. “The Tarot reading was just to give myself insights on my current situation.”

In short, the situation was that she was not at peace. Especially with her past. For the past weeks, I have listened to her explain her “situation”, and we came to the conclusion that perhaps she needed closure. Just give him a call, I said. “And cry over the phone?” If that’s closure, why not, I concluded.

But the tarot reading said otherwise. The cards read that May can be at peace, only if she allowed herself to adjust to the things which are constant. For example, May was like a fish out of a pond when she came back to Malaysia after living in Boston for years. In terms of work, the pay was never right. In terms of rules, she hated how she is constant fear for holding hands. “If I have a ticket to New York, I would fly off now,” she would always tell me.

So the tarot was saying that it was not the past that caused her emotional chaos. It was herself that caused her own troubles. She needed to change and adjust to the present, and not worry about the past. “For example, Malaysia will always be like this. I just have to adapt in ways I know how,” she said.

So, how are you going to apply this to your ex-boyfriend?

“He is in the past. I just have to let him go.”

I nodded, and stared into the highway. It’s easier said than done, I thought. But seeing her smiling, at that moment, I knew she found peace. Even when it was within her all along.

Monday, July 17, 2006

Sometimes You Want To Be Promiscuous

Promiscuous girl,
Wherever you are,
I'm all alone,
and it's you that I want.

Courtesy of Nelly Furtado's "Loose"