It's time to Weed out the Weeds

Year 2010, is coming to an end, and although it has gone past in a wink for many others, this year has been a long and "hellish" one for me. From dealing with being laid-off to unpaid wages to jobs that just did not fit me as a person, I've had one hell of a ride, and to be honest, thought that it would never end. I tried to sink myself into positive oblivion that things would get better and that there is such a thing as a silver lining, but yet not truly daring to believe that my life would take a positive turn. And then, at the end of last November, it finally did. I left my journey to no where, and finally started my destination bounded journey.

I wouldn't say that my life is picture perfect now. If it were, I would be carrying my Salvotore Ferragamo, wearing my Jaeger le-Coultre and driving my very own Volkswagon Bug (hehehehe). Materials aside, my life is still less than perfect because I seem to be the only one who is happy with the turn-around. There are still people who are nit-picking at areas of my life which is not, in their idea, as good as it should be.


Everyone has a different perception of what a perfect life is and should be. Therefore, i don't expect anyone to understand why and how I live my life, and i urge you to not implore your ideas on me either. I have a great job, a great man of my life, a great daughter-poodle, and a great small group of friends who matter. I also have a dysfunctional family whom I am at peace with and learnt to accept each and every one of them for their flaws and choices, without having to criticizing them to make my life more colorful. I don't generally compare people with others, so please refrain from comparing me to others of my age group. I find my life a better one, because I get to learn from their mistakes and not be a fool to repeat them. So if you cannot find the strength in you to give me credit for how efficiently I have lived my life avoiding mistakes I have seen people around me make, then thank you very much, but keep your criticisms to yourself! Unless it is constructive, you would most probably spoil my day and risk me detesting you.

Syiok Sendiri...

Have you ever wondered why smelly people do not know that they stink. Or fat people do not realise that tight revealing clothes that show off their barrels are not at all flattering. Or people who brag don't realise they are bragging, Or people who are supposedly expert in a field do not realise when they come along as obnoxious and a "insufferable know it all"?

Well, this post is by far the most politically incorrect post that I have decided to put up on my blog. Many will crucify me and take this as personal attacks. But I assure you, it is just my opinion, and perhaps an individual flaw of my incessant need to judge. But this is my space, and I have all the right in the world to complain as much as I want to. After all, that's what a personal blog is for isn't it?

I think everyone has a side of syiok sendiri that we are not aware of. I thought hard last night, and dug deep and found my side. So before i shoot my mouth condemning the things people do, i'll start with me. I have the most annoying habit of 'sharing what i know' which might come across as being an "insufferable know it all". While my intentions are not to heave my posterior up in the air and act smart, i realised i do come across as a person who is constantly trying to outdo others and prove my intelligence. I am also a stickler when it comes to what i perceive is 'right and wrong'. I am very resistant to challenges of my mindset, and will argue till the cows come home to prove my point. I am also one hell of a "laser mouth" and sometimes suffer from verbal diarrhea especially when my emotions soar. There is hardly a censorship board in my puny brain, and sometimes, i regret saying things that I have said aloud. Having said all that, I am sure that i just as much suffer from the "syiok sendiri" syndrome that I accuse people of having. But the thing is, I am not afraid to admit that i have flaws and acknowledge that I should change the way I communicate with others.

I wished people told me all the above about me to my face. I might be offended for a while (after all, no one likes to be criticized) but it would help me be a better person and be less syiok sendiri. But it's considered politically incorrect to tell someone they are obnoxious, fat, smelly, annoying, a self-proclaimed diva, or an arrogant bastard. At least not in a serious matter of fact way. The truth is, it's always politically incorrect to be honest and blunt. Because everyone likes to think that they are perfect the way they are.

If you know a person who is an object of table topic ( not in a nice way), there's a big possibility that they suffer from "syiok sendiri" symptoms, and since I am over-bearing and an "insufferable know it all", i would encourage you to rip the bandaid and tell the person what you think of him. After all, if you are a true friend, you would point out his/her obvious flaws that makes him less of a desirable company.

Pimping your daughter?

Which mother does not want to have gorgeous children? Especially a daughter who is pretty and all that. As much as asian parents are obssessed about having smart prodigy kids, given a choice, they would want it both ways for their daughters. Brawns and Brains that is...

I remember my teenage days when my wardrobe consisted of skater pants and billabong baggy t shirts. For a moment, my mother started worrying about my sexuality and the agst attitude i was carrying around. So she decided to spruce me up abit. I remember protesting over a pair of shorts she bought for me (to wear out). I remember pulling a long face when she made me try on baby-tees' and bought me proper skin care. I walked away from my mother who openly suggested at the lingerie department that I should get some cutesey colored bras. My father used to tell me, a little lip gloss wouldn't harm, and I looked at him as though he was mad! I was 13, and as far as I was concerned, I just wanted to be left alone and dress the way I deemed fit. My mother always hated my unrully hair and made me cut it really short. But suddenly one day, she told me maybe I should keep it long. I was perplexed. I used to have to fight an arm and leg to have my hair reach my shoulders. Les did I know my parents were preparing me for womenhood. It still sounds corny, but that was exactly what they were doing. They were pimping me! What baffled me more was, a few years down the road, when I was comfortable with skirts, tank tops and spagetti straps, which she had introduced me to, she started worrying about me showing too much skin and attracting unwanted attention.The rest of my teen years, revolved around arguments about my choice of clothes.

No, my parents aren't the only ones who pimped me up.  So did YOUR mom, and all the mothers out there who have daughters, and you, if you are a mom. If you look at the teenage clothes line which is out there in malls, it's pretty shocking that 13 year olds are deciding if they want to go along with the goth, biker-chic, glitzy glamour, or hit the clubs look. And what's more shocking is their mothers who purchase those tacky slutty clothes for their daughters. If that's not pimping up your daughter, I don't know what else is.

It is an unconscious decision to dress your kids up in a the latest trend, and to make sure they don't stand out like a sore thumb among their peers. But mothers, be careful, because the little girl you are dressing up today, might be the slut of the block tomorrow, and it will be your fault partially.

The point is that, mothers are not aware that the simple act of dressing up your daughter, introducing her to make up and teaching her ettiquets, is grooming her to become a sex symbol among her peers in the future. I'm not saying, please wrap her in a bale of cloth, but groom her accordingly, to not only help her find her sense of style and attitude, but also in a modest, moderate way. Your actions can be counter productive at the end of the day, so take caution in how you groom your daughters. Or a simpler thing to do is, to just have sons! =)

It's that time of the year again

It that time of the year again, where mixed feelings never truly leaves you in peace. On one hand, I am ecstatic to have finally taken up my dream job, and on the other hand, I am going to be alone for Christmas for the first time.

Christmas is always the part of the year I look forward to (second in line Chinese New year because of the angpows hehehehe). Christmas celebrations at the Murray's headquarters, all the way in Mersing is always a hustle and bustle and nothing short of havoc. While family members take long drives to make it to my grandfather's house to make it in time for Christmas eve mass, it is always a trepidation for "my" family to beat the clock and traffic to get there in time. Tempers may flare against dilly-dalliers, and dad is always assuming his suitcase is packed with him work documents for 'just-in-cases' and me, wondering, why I am here, and not out with my friends in the big city partying away.When everyone reaches Grandpa's house, cousins will exchange horror stories of being stuck in the car with their parents for long hours and parents will be nagging at us to either help out in the kitchen, or scoot back to the hotel to take a short nap before the midnight mass.

The midnight mass at Mersing is truly a bizzare experience for those who are used to extravagant decos and large crowds back in KL. But it is nothing short of special. While we sit through mass (sometimes without a priest) and sing carols on the top of our voices in the absence of music accompaniments, feelings of warmth and love engulfs us and I  can safely say it for all of my family that all the havoc was worth it, to be back where it truly feels home for christmas.  At the end of mass, the Murrays who normally make up half of the chapel, would exchange hugs and kisses, and all the she-bang that we went through earlier in the day, would be forgotten.

Christmas at the Murray's HQ is a BIG celebration. And it normally stretches from Christmas eve, all the way to the 27th December. Although my grandfather is no longer lucid, and poor Kristin normally sacrifices her real birthday to have a joint celebration with Grandpa, most family members would join in the fun and prolong the holidays as much as they can.

Today when we look at families with 6 children or more, we wonder why they would put themselves through such a predicament. But i have to admit that, growing up with a large extended family, was the most perfect part of my childhood. As much as we sometimes joke about my Grandpa being psychotic to have 11 kids, i thank him, for the biggest (literally) gift he has given to us. Without the gift of family, i would have never experienced family love the way I did. Yes we fight, badmouth, disagree, and get jealous of each another at one point or another, but at the end of the day, it's about love, loyalty and togetherness.

This year, I will be alone, or probably celebrating Christmas in a much smaller fashion. I will be missing my huge crazy, loving (and sometimes dysfunctional) family. I will be missing our regular cousins' dirty beach getaway  every Christmas night. I will be missing my christmas gifts and yummy spread of food which is normally a product of the hours the aunts spend slaving in the kitchen. I will miss seeing my nieces and nephews and coo about how much they have grown over the past year. I will be missing Sri Malaysia Hotel which is always smells mouldy and gushes coffee colored water through its pipes. I will be missing Grandpa's big birthday, 102 years old this Christmas. I will be missing the morning market's nasi dagang, the salty air, the bread bakery who still uses a charcoal oven to bake their goodies and most importantly, I will be missing Mami, Papa, and my entire family who I love to bits and pieces.

Merry Christmas to the entire Murray Clan! I will be missing you sorely... :(

xoxo
Charlene

Doesn't Take a Dime to be Polite...

Someone of authority told me recently, that I failed at what i did because I was unable to command authority and respect. When I asked what I should have done differently, the answer was, "to insist and command those below you to do what you need them to, by hook or crook".Something in that sentence didn't seem quite right, or moral. Yet that's the way the world is today. U kick, push, blame, crush, annihilate those of competition, to get what you want. Granted I may be living in the wrong age and time, but I still believe that genuine politeness, gets you to everywhere rudeness doesn't get you to.

I was watching Oprah recently and she had a whole episode dedicated to addressing rude people. If there's anything that ticks me off and makes me act like a crazy bitch, it is when people are unnecessarily rude. I stand by the principles that if i don't treat you like shit, you sure as hell have no right to treat me like shit. If I have to decency to be polite, then you damn well be polite if you choose to converse with me.

Maybe I am no leader by any means. But if being polite and understanding makes me less of a leader, then I am at utmost peace with myself.

My Grandfather's Legacy

I've read stories of grandfathers who were super cool and indulging. I've heard stories of cherished memories of grandparents who have left an imprint in their grandchildren's heart, and someone that they can run to when mom and dad decides to wield the cane. The word "grandad' itself, associates with love, compassion, smell of prunes or tobacco, and a wrinkly old teddy bear.

My one and only living grandfather that I have, bears none of the above traits, except that he is also old and wrinkly. For as long as I can remember, my grandfather was a disciplinarian, or rather, someone who was nonchalant. While his children reminisce about their father in his younger days, I couldn't help but notice the blind love and fillial piety they have for him, despite the fact that he was not a very good husband or father. But if there was one thing he did right, it is to father 11 children who worshiped the ground he walked on, and love him unconditionally.

My earliest recollection of my grandfather, was him giving me a whack on my back, over a christmas present that I was fighting with my cousin for. (the present was mine, and my cousin took it). I was too young to have my feelings hurt. Although he never sat me on his knee and told me stories, i have good memories of him. Like how when I used to visit during school holidays, he would buy always me chicken rice on his way back from town (only for me, not even for my mom and dad) and the nursery rhymes he composed which he taught every me and every one of my cousins. He was never affectionate, he never communicated with us much, other than grunts and sighs, but he was a legacy.

My grandfather was a a teacher his entire life. He not only taught at the local town school, he also taught at the local town kindergarden, and  taught tuition at home. He spent most of his life in Mersing, a small town by the sea, so almost every person in Mersing, was taught by him at some point of their lives. He has been a mentor to almost everyone in that town.

When I pass my business card around, people either stare at my card for a few reasons. They are either shocked by the fact that I am not the race they thought i was, or either, my surname brought back memories. As a part of the only eurasian Murray family in Malaysia, if you know another Murray, he/she is definitely related to me. A few days back when i passed my name card at at event. And two men walked up to me and told me that they were students of my grandfather. The recollected the time he used to carry around the big fat "rotan" and told me how my grandfather had changed their lives. For the first time, I was ashamed to have thought that there was nothing great about my grandfather all these while. My grandfather, is a living legacy.

At 102 years old this year, my grandfather might have lost his memory, and find difficulty in moving around independently, but he is still a vivid memory of the many lives that he had touched and changed through his unfailing role and passion to teach.

He might not have been the perfect father, or the typical grandfather, but he left us something greater, a legacy where our family name, was associate with greatness, compassion and dedicated servitude.

What's good for the soul?

As common and mouldy as the saying is, a leopard really can't change its spots. Same goes with people, practices and strategies in human communication can change if we make an effort. But what's inside us, character, instinct and personality is something you can mask, but never really change.

This doesn't mean that all's bad and doomed because we don't really change. For example, if a person is prone to be soft hearted, it's kind of a good thing.. It simply means compassion lives deep within her, and as much as she tries to mask it, when it does surface, it only makes this world a better place.

I have been trying to change all year. My ideals, my dreams and even my personality. B* used to call me a "doormat" as a joke. But in some ways, i knew he was right. Problem is, it wasn't something i could fix since being a doormat was a result of my personality. It was something deep down inside that i would like to think of as the need to be compassionate and emphatise, rather than being in possession of a frail leadership trait. 

But what I failed to realise till the very last few days, that there was one thing I could change, that would definitely make my life a happier one at least. I could learn to ignore. I could learn to distance myself from people who were bad to my personal self growth. I could choose to be more selective over calling people my friends. I could live in my own bubble and still be happy. Whoever said it's a dog eat dog world out there, clearly has a dominating personality, and not to mention a selfish trait, a need to justify the oppression of other people to feel good about himself. It is does not matter if he is right or wrong, but in his defense, he feeds of the fear he instills in others for selfish feel good reasons. 

So here's what I think. This is not a Dog eat Dog world that we make it out to be. Because we think it is, we behave in a certain way as a defense mechanism to protect ourselves which inevitably, has certainly made it more of such. We can co-exist and give in to the possibility that someone out there, who is better than us. We don't always have to be the best, or always right. We can choose to be just great. Our way of accomplishing things, are not the only solution to get things done right or more effectively. We can choose to be selfish and own up that we have taken that choice, rather than find ways to justify our choices. We  can choose at the end of the day, to recognize other people's efforts first, before judging their shortcomings. 

The point behind this whole rambling is, that we don't acknowledge that personalities do not change, but our actions can. I think I am a nice person. Perhaps way too nice sometimes to the point of being a pushover, but I kind of like myself the way I am. At least i'm at peace with it. All I can do, is avoid people who are pushovers, and perhaps admit openly that I know I am at risk of being run over by over ambitious, narcissistic people  and life will be fine and dandy. I don't think I need to change after all. I think I just need to find people who accepts me the way I am, and is open to look beyond my faults, and recognize my efforts.

It's not about you... It's about me.. And it's time I take ownership over celebrating the "me" that I am. 

Jigsaw Me

Someone once told me, life is meant to be a "china-made" jigsaw puzzle. Just when you think you are about done piecing them together, you will inevitably find one piece that just does not fit.

I've spent the whole year, trying to piece my life together. Deciding which piece goes where, and trying to squash in pieces that just did not make the cut for my picture perfect life. And yet till today, I am forced to resign myself to the fate that I have single handedly crafted for myself, a less than picture perfect life..

Over the weekend, I met up with some of my best buds in college. The girls' night out seemed to be a perfect rejuvenation for my mundane life, but somehow, it didn't make me feel twice as good as I thought it would. I went home, laid in bed counting down the hours, and recollecting what I have made my life out of. The hardships never seemed to leave me, the joy was slowly seeping out of my skin, leaving worry wrinkles and crevices where they burned. This is it. I had to make it, or break it..

This is going to be a painful week. And  I hope, my silver lining will finally emerge, at the end of a very tiring journey...

The City Snob

I still can't grasp the concept of individualism. The concept of how you can't really live another person's life, and how everything and everyone around you is fragments of your world. You can't feel what they are feeling and you certainly can't walk in their shoes (not literally at least). The same way how empathy is just a concept which cannot be truly proven. Simply because, it is not humanly possible to truly feel, touch, smell, and understand how it is like to be another person. You can only go as far as attempting to comprehend and visualize.

As i stopped by to get my morning coffee today, a woman walking in my opposite direction towards me with tears streaming down her face. For a moment, i wanted to turn back and stop this lady to ask her if she needed someone to talk to, or offer to buy her a cup of coffee. Then again, i realized how weird i would look, randomly offering some kindness to a complete stranger. People don't do that in the city. You could be mistaken as a weirdo, or even worse, a con-artist who is scamming to prey on teary women.

So i didn't stop the lady, and walked on to get my coffee. Until now, i cannot get the thought of my mind, of how i had become another one of the walking-snobs-in-the-city who found minding-my-own-business a polite thing to do.

When did i become a city snob? Beats me....

Eat, Pray, Love

Before I buy a book, i shamelessly stand in Borders, reading at least the first 20 pages of the book. Being a fast reader, It would take me 15 minutes or so. The reason I do this is because if the first 20 pages does not arrest me, there is little hope that the next 200 pages will and hence, there is no use of adding a book I simply won't finish to the rest of my collection.

I must admit that Eat Pray Love, the book did not wow me. It was whiny, self loathing, and a journey of an American woman who's been too blessed to handle a few glitches in her life. I put down the NY Times Best seller back into its rack, and decided that it wasn't a good read. While i have no idea if i would have found the beauty of the book as many have raved about in the next 400 pages as others have, I must admit that the movie did do something to me. It might have been the cinematography, or the comic that sent me into fits of laughter, or just plain old gorgeous Julia Roberts and her spectacular acting, but serendipity as it was for me to watch it because I had no other options of greater movies to spend the last few hours of my weekend in, I thought it was a pretty decent movie, especially one involving a journey of self discovery.

As i watched the movie, I saw alot of myself in it. From struggling into jeans sizes I was "supposed" to be able to fit in, to eating and experiencing my food as an adventure itself, to the box she had that bear all her dreams of the places she wanted to go to but never had the time or opportunity to. I have to admit that I might not be able to feel her frustration of constantly finding something lacking in the relationships she was in, since I am in a pretty awesome one, but if i was in anything lesser than awesome, I would be the real life "Elizabeth Gilbert".

People judge people. It doesn't matter if you move to some foreign country to get away from the judgmental buggers, you will find that even strangers judge you and your choices in life. People of all walks of my life, tell me what they think I should do everyday. But nobody has asked me, "What do you want?" But this has got me thinking, if you keep living up to people's standards, you will come to realise at some point of your life that it just doesn't cut it. As crazy and unrealistic as your dreams seem to be, if you don't get it out of your system, you will never be able to find that "word" to describe yourself, because there will be thousands of what ifs. If you do not experience life the way you want to, your life will never be .. how do i put it.... 'your own'.

I find myself at crossroads these days. If you notice, the more i have on my mind, the lesser I write. It has nothing to do with me finding it too personal to put up on a blog read by strangers, it is more of me not knowing where to begin, or how to pin point the root of my disheveled mind. Because there is so much of unresolved needs i carry in my baggage, when I fall down and my baggage splits open, I find myself picking up the pieces, not knowing which is more important than the other to pick up first.

I've decided to pick up the book anyway, because maybe, maybe something in it might help me pick up the pieces. I might not have the money, liberty, and time to run halfway across the globe to discover myself the way Elizabeth Gilbert did, and i certainly have no intention of checking myself into an ashram, but maybe.. maybe.. I could at least finally find that word that truly defines me.

Effing Lemons..

If life gives you lemons, make lemonade.. What is you're sick of lemonade? What if you wanted to have grapes instead in the sweet valleys, or the sun sweet cherries of california.. So is this how we console ourselves when our plans unfold into something we never expected it to?

I'm 27. When I was 17, there were tonnes of stuff i swore to do by 21. Then when I was 21, I swore i'd accomplish certain things by 25. When I hit 25, needless to say i started believing that 27 was my year to sit back and bask in my worldly possesions and accomplishments.. Now that I am 27, I can't help but think, what if Life throws me lemons for another 10 more years the way it has for the past 10 years...

I sat down yesterday making a reality checklist.. The more i wrote and recollected, the more depressed I became. I'm not ungrateful and incapable of counting my blessings. But I am tired of lemons!

SO here are a few lemons that have come my way...

Travelling the world by 25
Needless to say, I haven't even travelled the region itself. Paris, Prague, Cape town, Kenya, New York, Budapest, I will try my very best to visit you by the time I'm 30!

Having a 10k saving per year.
From this, you can see I ain't much of a saver. So 10k a year seems reasonable. I've been working for 4 years, and besides my insurance and dilapidated house, I have no assets or savings to declare for a rainy day. So maybe 10k by the time i'm 29?

Own my own car!
Yes, I'm one of those women who uses my boyfriend's car. And doesn't offer to fill petrol for it. Well, I can't even afford the extra 200 bucks a month to fill petrol, I sure as hell cannot afford paying for car installments.

Get my masters
Who am I kidding, with my degree grades, I am far from getting a scholarship. Since I have no money stashed away also, I can kiss my Masters goodbye.

Pursue Piano
The one joy of my adolescence, was playing the piano. I was good at it, great in fact but I never pursued my diploma or teaching grade. I can't help but think that maybe if i did, I wouldn't be broke now. So before I get arthiritis, by 30, I will pick up piano again!

Get married
Who am I kidding, unless i'm a skank who expects my boyfriend to foot the entire wedding bill, I will not be walking down any aisle any time soon with the nil savings I have.

So here's my resolution, my last resolution. If i cannot find the means to make money by the end of next year, i will give up my passion, and live a life millions others are content living...

Effing Lemons..

Murder solved by Malice Murder- Thats the way WE work! Kudos Malaysia

Yes it is alarming that people are brutally murdered in this country. Burning, rape, arson, snatch thefts and robberies gone wrong and even gunning. Is there really a possibility that Malaysians are becoming increasingly aggressive, or is it just a more transparent media reporting trend?
But there is definitely one more element that has made it to the top of Malaysian's increasingly aggressive behaviors, Killing out of malice..

The recent killing of the 9 dogs in Banting made even the meanest pet-haters shocked. Shocked by stupidity, and shocked by how incoherent the act had to do with the murder case of Sosilawati and her three associates. Perhaps the authorities/neighbours and people surrounding the area were expecting the 9 dogs to eat grass, or what might say, live on rain and sunshine. Even our basic human instincts tell us that when we are hungry,  find for  food. The fact that they started killing poultry and livestocks to feed their hunger after being left unattended, meant they were only trying to ward off their hunger.

I see this as a personal attack to weaken a man who is yet to be proven guilty. Regardless of whether he is guilty of murder or not, the killing of the animals were pointless, cruel, despicable, disgusting, and really SHALLOW.

I feel ashamed to be Malaysian...

"The Hallelujahs"

Disclaimer: I am by no means, an agnostic or atheist. Nor am I anti-Christ. In fact, I am every ounce a believer of God..

If i wrote a book of jokes, quoting my parents on how every worldly disaster is related to the lack of faith in God, I would be rich by now. All in the name of God.. And yes, I'm being cynical. Last year, my mother had dengue fever twice. On both accounts, i had to literally drag her to the hospital to seek treatment. Then one day i understood why she was refusing treatment. A pastor came to our house to pray for her, and told her that God will help her get well, even if she didn't want to go to the hospital. She had been "cult-tized". My instant impulse, was to chase this man out of my house. But instead, against my "better" judgement, it told him that was the stupidest thing i've ever heard anyone say. There was a pin drop silence. Before the pastor left, he told me he would pray for me, i was pretty sure he was referring to my lack of faith in God (rolls eyes). Needless to say, my parents straight away started praying for their daughter who had gone astray and towards what they assumed was Satan's light.

I have been brought up in a home where my parents were moderately liberal when it came to religion. They allowed me to choose my denomination, and never pressured me into doing church activities. But somehow over the years, my parents became the radical ones.

I cannot stress enough on how much I HATE overly "hallelujah" churches and its' goers ( i call them the hallelujahs). They are pushy, whinny, preachy, judgmental and downright ridiculous when it comes to common sense. I might be walking on thin ice now condemning the "hallelujahs", but what the heck. My "God", understands what i'm getting at.

This is what I think. I believe that beneath the exterior of the overly pious and faithful "hallelujahs" is cowardice. The inability to deal with the challenges that life throws them, so they hide behind a veil of invisible protection, and stay in denial by simply accepting that everything is "god's will". They are afraid of manning up, and dealing with the pain and trials in life, so they quote God in everything that they do. They mask their desperation and despair by assuming, that what happened was a result of a better plan which is in store for them. They sit back and let disease consume them, because they are terrified of trying and failing, and most importantly having to bear responsibility for anything that goes wrong. It is easier to blame it on someone else, or to blame it on God. And then you have some others, who mask their corrupted practices, by claiming that its God's blessings. They pray incessantly and praise God incessantly, hoping deep down inside that God will forgive them for the bigger sins that they are hiding in their walk in closets and bank accounts. I don't know which God they worship, but the God i know, is not one to be bribed.

There are different ways of being God's servant. Not just evangelizing about Him and hoping to gain brownie points out of it. Some hallelujahs, are the ones who drive huge cars and live lavishly, and yet refuse to offer help those in need of food and shelter. Some other hallelujahs, are the ones who are too lazy to provide for their families, or to be useful people in society, and claim that they are happy with God's blessing. THAT, is disgusting...

I'm not saying that there's anything wrong in laying your lives into God's hands. But to sit back and do nothing, and expect miracles, is defiling the one special gift God gave us, the freedom to choose and to rationalize.
My concept of God may be flawed at times, some might say because of my lack of faith, but I have no doubt that He knows my allegiance to him.

There is no difference from the so called "muslim-terrorists" and "overly-pious christians". If you really want to take the Bible literally, then there is no difference between "murder" and "being judgemental". They are both sins...

Something Finally to be proud of..

I felt disappointed today. Because to all my fellow Peninsular Malaysians, today is just another holiday courtesy of the need to draw in more votes for a certain party.

I am not a patriotic person simply because I don't find the need to be patriotic for the sake of being patriotic. I hate blind patriotism. It's the easiest way for a nation to meet its doom. But today is different, for once I actually feel an ounce of pride swelling from my tiny chest, and a bigger disappointment oozing out of me..

See, today is Malaysia's real Birthday. The real day which hold the significance of history being made. The real day all three individual governance came together and said, let's be one. Yes we have celebrated Merdeka for 53 years, but that was the day the national parade was held, and the legendary Tunku Abdul Rahman stood in a field of peninsular supporters bellowing Merdeka to a newly formed nation. That is not historical, I'm sorry to say that.

It is kind of sad that Peninsular Malaysians are welcoming today as another added holiday in our yearly calendar. This day holds no significance for them. It's sad because this is the day, we acknowledged what we have casually bypassed for 53 years.

So to my fellow Peninsular Malaysians, celebrate today, in spite of the reason this day was decided to be commemorated for voting reasons. But embrace today as the day we stood as one nation, the day where our forefathers decided to let their personal interests slide aside and put Unity as the top of the agenda to start their lives anew.

Today is historical, because without today, 53 years back, we would be a squatter country still, without reaping the benefits of natural resources which our fellow Malaysians across the South China Sea has so graciously allowed us to use for the benefit of our economy. Without today, we will be hardly even, a progressive country!

Happy Malaysia Day everybody!

Home: Day 1

I sat in bed till 3am yesterday, thinking.... Wondering what is my plan B should either one of my parents pass on.. It's morbid, It's scary but it's something I have to start planning for, even if it's probably something that will happen only in 10 years time..

I have plans. A plan of being paid well for what I do. A plan of climbing the ladder. A plan of moving to a colder country. A plan of owning my own restaurant and being happy doing it. A plan of having a house where Piggy can have a lawn to bask in, instead of basking behind my dilapidated blue suede couch. But all those plans are constantly on a halt, or not doable because of responsibilities.. In short, being an adult sucks...

I am thinking of a time where I lived and planned my life without having to consider those around me and how my decision implicate the ones i'm "responsible" for. In school, i studied hard to get grades to make sure my parents weren't ashamed by judging uncle and aunts. In pre-u, i dated a guy who wanted to plan my life and my future, and stood by as he imprisoned me in his fantasy world for 3 whole years. In college, i worked for money to sustain my monthly allowance, so that my parents wouldn't worry and so that I could make a trip halfway across to globe to visit a loved one. Needless to say, the trip never happened because i needed food more than a love affair holiday. When I started working, i working hard to pay the bills, provide for my family, sustain two households and a dog. 4 years down the road, I am still struggling, have no savings, and have people pressuring me to get hitched soon. And to date, I'm still left with nothing.

Yes I am spendthrift in one way or another. I like buying things for myself to soothe my self-loathing. Because thats the only way I know how to, since all my other plans are on a halt.  But if you look at it, what I spend on myself is hardly extravagant. Yes I like nice smelling soap and a haircut which doesn't make me cry everyday I look into the mirror. I love clothes because those are the small comforts I can afford to make me smile each day I look into the mirror. And no I'm not strutting Ferragamo or Gucci, so technically, rationally, I'm still being moderate.

I'm 27 and if i'm unlucky, I'm half way through my life. And yet, what have I done for myself? Nothing actually... Do i have a choice, not really either...

Being an adult, only child, NGo worker sucks somehow.. But alas, I'm not willing to give up the only one thing which is my passion. To work for a noble cause.. Because that's the only thing that keeps this pathetic life of mine going..

If there's anything i'm not, it's being selfish.. Maybe it's time to be more selfish, and live the life i always wanted to..

The Minimalist versus The Excessive

The "Minimalist" is someone who finds clutter to close for comfort. They like things in place, they like owning only necessary items. And most importantly they can't stand decorative and vibrant colors.  They're seen as organised individuals, with a specific direction and aim in life. They're technical, rational, moderate and conservative. They fear to commit themselves to more than they are absolutely sure they are able to handle. Taking chances are an insane suggestion.

The "Excessive" is someone who loves to decorate and finds an empty space cold and inexpressive. They like buying "just-in-cases" and decorate their space with color and character. Subtlety is not their strong suit. They are generally messy, or have an organised mess. It is all about owning the space and making it their comfort zone. They are happy-go-lucky, feather-brained and live in the moment. They are believers of mystic and magic and sentimental fools.

There is nothing wrong with being "either" "or". But it's a clash of personality when a "minimalist" and "excessive" comes together....

Hitch Hitch Hooray...

I remember the silly teasing and discussion over slumber parties with my girl friends in school. Everyone reckoned that I would get hitched first, if not second.

So I cruised through high school and college being somewhat popular. People liked being seen with me, I had boys chasing after me, sniffing my berry shampooed hair when I wasn't looking. Everyone looked at me and said, "she's kahwin material"

So here's the thing, a few days ago, I started browsing through FB and found a few long lost friends. There more I browsed, the more friends I found, the more I got addicted to kepoh-ing into their pictures and status. So most of my friends who have grown up watching me date and talk about boys and wondered if they'll ever find someone to love and love them back, are all hitched. These are my dorky friends who have probably secretly harbored crushes on pretty boys in school without ever daring to even mention about it. I remember my best friend crying to me in her first year of college, that she still haven't kissed a boy. She's a proud mother of a 1 year old son now.

How did everyone suddenly grow up and how did time pass me by without me realising it? Now don't get me wrong, I don't see it as a competition. It's ust ironic that most of my friends who started dating earlier than me or somewhat around the same time, are either single or not heading  down the aisle anytime soon. You would think that the more frogs you kiss, the sooner you'd find your prince charming. Apparently not. Now most of my single ladies are reduced to saying, "the good ones are all either taken, or gay".

 While I send out congratulatory messages over FB to long lost friends who have recently tied the knot or received the birth of their first borns, I'm sitting here thinking, what would my life be if I was "less" popular in school and didn't kiss so many frogs. I've been conditioned to believe that "marriage" is over-rated and should not be chased after. And I guess in many ways, I am very comfortable the way I am, attached and unavailable yet not legally belonging to someone else. Perhaps I want to get married someday, but for me, now's not nearly the right time.

So here's a BIG congratulations to all my friends who are getting hitched, and to those who are already expecting the arrival of their firsts or seconds. I cannot be happier that you have found your true love! Congratulations to those who have recently become proud mommies! It's a chapter of life I'm so happy that you get to experience! I am truly genuinely happy for you girls. :)

And to all my single ladies out there, attached or unattached, Just because you are not married yet, it doesn't mean that you have plotted your own downfall ( don't listen to your mothers!). Singlehood is worth celebrating and embrace it with a simple fact, you expect more out of life, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with. :)

And to my soon to be hitched girlfriends out there, stop dissing the unattached or unhitched ones.. You need bridesmaids after all, and we make excellent ones! :)

Motherly Love...

I watched the crying screaming salivating toddler with antipathy. And I wonder if I could ever be a loving mom. But the answer is already there isn't it?

No I am not married, or pregnant or having a baby anytime soon. But I know all about motherhood and how to be a nurturing caring mom. I have had "furkids" for the past 10 years, nurturing them back to health, making sure they get the best I can give them, and moulding their character into the talk of the town.

If you think about it, puppies and babies aren't that far apart. They're both helpless and cry out for attention alot. They both need cuddling, and potty training and great care. They both need endless sleepless nights of bottle feeding. Besides the fact that a dog grows out of its tantrums earlier than a human child, and you don't really have to save a college funds, they're really not much different. Just more fur and a kid who never talks back.

Over the weekend, B* and I buried yet another one of our kids. Lassie was 9 years old, a beautiful German Shepherd who gave us many beautiful puppies. She was fierce in spirit and in nature, but a loving dotting mother who always put up with her "kids" antics. She died of complications of heartworm and a massive spleen tumor. Even in her last moments, she was still strong and comforting to the ones she was leaving behind.

So yes I think I will be a great doting mom. I already am. I don't have to have a human "child" to learn to be a great mom. We humans, could do with learning more from animals when it comes to motherly instincts. After all, among all beings, we're the only ones who needs a manual on how to not kill your own baby. :P

Rainbows versus Bows and Arrows

Oh yes, we've heard about this for generations now, Men and women are different poles of the world. But yet, like opposite sides of the magnet, we're drawn to each another,for some sick cosmic reason. For women, I guess it's the challenge of meeting someone so different from yourself and the whole romantic paradox of "opposites attract" and finding victory in molding them according to our ideals. For men, it's the thrill of getting into another's pants where you won't find the similar looking genitals. In other words, in general, we're attracted to the pain of making things work.

It is a normal thing for couples to squabble and claw through their relationship, and yet make up at the end of a stumble. But alas, women and men look for very different apologies and defines forgiveness in different ways.

So to all testosterone driven creatures out there, I may not know what rocks your boat, but I sure as hell know what a woman want.. And here it is.

1) Never leave an unresolved issue until the next day. Some women are tolerant for a maximum of 48 hours. After that, if they act irrationally, it's all your fault for not talking about it in the first place.

2) "Let's talk" always work. It shows a woman you are interested in making things work. Well yes it might be painfully boring to hear her drone on and on over what you did wrong and why she was hurt, but who ever said you had to "really" listen?

3) Just be there - If she needs you, do not give suggestions. Hugs and and "clarifying questions" such as "What do you think you need to do?" is suffice. Do not preach about what you think she should have done, even if you are right, unless she asks for your opinion.

4) Sex is the best medicine - NOT... hey we're sad, not horny, keep your willies in your pants please?

5) Gifts - A thoughtful gift can sometimes melt the toughest heart. But gifts with no sorry, ain't a keeper dude...

6) Merajuking - (what's this in English?) - Merajuking among women are fairly normal, but not quite justified. Among men, it's just ugly and repulsive...

7) Lastly - Do not leave money under the pillow as a "please forgive me" plea! Thats what paying customers do for whores..

Ain't a Saint...Ain't going to be a Saint..

Look, I ain't the holy molliest person on earth. I don't believe that God will punish you if you don't go to your place of worship regularly or sacrifice animals in memory of him on special religious occasions. I don't think that I need to wear accessories or dress accordingly so that people will know what religion I am of. I don't agree that converting people out of their faith to mine, will earn me more stars in my crown and earn me brownie points to heaven. I don't go around and evangelize, simply because I respect the greatest gift God gave us, freewill. I NEVER end a conversation/email/meeting by saying "God bless you".

I drink, I swear (alot), I am not religion-centered when it comes to my decisions, I'm conscience centered. I have no belief that any ONE church is the remnant church and I don't think that other religions other than mine are skewed. But I know one thing. I believe that he is  THE greater power above all beings.

I absolutely despise thread emails where people with no life expects us to forward it along after reading it. I despise it even more because they often use God as the pulling factor behind their worthless, brainless, superficial emails. I despise threads of stories where they use "cheating husbands" who reignited their love with their wives because they found God. That's not a blessing, thats a curse to their wives that they didn't make good riddance out of their straying men.

Don't ask me why I read them sometimes. I guess I just want to gauge how much more stupid people can get these days.

By the way, I also have no respect for women who stay with their cheating husbands or in a loveless marriage simply because their religion says "Marriage is forever". God gave you a brain for what??????

Contempt - A Dangerous word in Love

Familiarity breeds contempt, so we hear about it all the time...

Personally, I find the word "contempt" complex and impalpable. Ask me what I think lies behind the definition of the word "contempt", and my answer will be philosophies. It's way beyond my comprehension, too many extensions of definitions and just too thorny to waste my time deciphering. 

But I do know about contempt and love. I do know that contempt, is an dangerous thing to exist between couples. I do know that when contempt exists, it has way passed the stage of misunderstandings and resentment to a point of no return. And it's up to you to choose if you are going to walk away, or choose to be contemptuous towards the one you supposedly love for the rest of your days. 

Let's face it, as a woman, you will never get over the fact that your partner is not interested in frolicking with you in bed for months especially if you are living together. We women will never ever say it and mean it when we say it is okay if he forgets anniversaries or birthdays. Yes Valentines Day is over-rated, but a nice cozy snuggle on the couch watching your favorite black and white movie would be perfect. We will never get over the fact, that he "doesn't want to talk about your feelings" everytime you fight.  Women can't be frank about their feelings, only because men can't accept it when they are. So we worm ourselves around the topic, hope that a change of tone in our voice or the sudden plunge of enthusiasm would make them realise. I genuinely think that it's not that women are indecisive creatures. Perhaps we are complex and PMS-sy and sometimes feel sad/offended even when we say it is okay or "let's forget about it", but isn't that only sign that we are attempting to compromise, even if we don't do it very well or graciously? Men have no problem is indentifying these traits in women worldwide, and talk about it for decades. And yet they have a problem with compromising everytime some "predictable" women trantrum is thrown.. Sigh..

Men cheat when they are smothered with too much of love, women do it out of scorn and contempt..I remembered a friend crying to me and his other buddies over his cheating girlfriend. While he was pouring his sorrows over how much he loved her and the things he did for her, I could only think about how he deserved it, considering the times he's never let her express herself. I think My point is clear...

If you reach a point where you think that special someone doesn't deserve you, you are probably right. The fact that you think that way, means that the dent has turned into a black hole. Even if he reverts back into his sweet self, contempt is one of those things that cannot be reversed..

Don't tempt a woman's scorn.. It's the worst kind of fire you can possibly play with..

You picked the wrong person to cheat on, Harvey...

You always remember your first time.First times are special and leave a irrevocable memory and impression. It may be your first car, your first bike, your first kiss, your first couch, your first "a-hem", or even... your first sound system.

I remember the very first time B* decided that it was time to buy a new flat screen LCD for his couch potato sanctuary. The cabinets were built, the space was rearranged, carpets cleaned, surfaces polished. SO for the next one month, we marched in and out of appliances stores to check out the most cost-worthy tv that was to take throne at his sanctuary. Finally, he decided on the model and size, and what would a lovely big tv mean without a good surround sound system? However, since his new one eye monster took up most of his budget, he decided upon a rather sleek classy looking LG 6 piece set of surround speakers.

The thing about men is, gadgets and electronics are like shoes and designer bags to us women. They become your pride and joy and you look forward to caressing them everyday ( whether it is the remote/ or for women, the fine texture and neat sewing of the bag) Not one woman i know would shrug it off if her Gucci bag's leather started peeling off after a mere usage of 1 year. Hell would break loose.

So after a year of purchasing both the items, one fine day, B* realised that one of his surround sound speakers was not working. Since warranty was for 1 year and we didn't buy extended warranty ( yes, these days you have to BUY warranty- they might as well say, buy at your own risk ), we had to hoist the 4 feet tall speakers into his backseat, and carry it to the store. It took us half and hour to fill in paper work, to check in the spoiled speaker. We were told that we had to pay for it. We took it with a pinch of salt, and left.

We were told that we would be called back after two weeks. After almost 2 months, not a pip of squeak from Harvey Norman. So we marched back to Harvey Norman Midvalley to check on the speaker. It took them more than half and hour to check where the speaker was. Finally, after pulling a fuss, the sales girl rolling her eyes at me as I raised my voice, they found the speaker in some nook and cranny of their store room, and told us that they had sent it back to LGfor repair, and nothing could be done about it. It was spoiled beyond repair. So B* asked, "what can be done then? Can we buy "one" speaker?" We were unceremoniously shooed away with cynical replies. They even suggested that we buy a new surround sound system again, because this one was gone for good.

I wasn't satisfied. There was no written report or account of why the speaker was spoiled. It wasn't about the money, or B* trying to be cheap. It was his right as a consumer, to be given an account of why a product could spoil right on the dot of when it's warranty ended. So B*'s uncle, who was a retired mechanical engineer, took the speaker home to attempt a repair himself. Ten minutes, and it was working the way it did when we bought it.

So what was wrong with the speaker in the first place? A wire fell out of place. That was it!!! 

So what really went down at this reputable electrical appliances store? Did LG pull a fast one on us, in hopes that we would be dimwitted enough to succumb to spending more money on a new 6 piece set? Or did Harvey Norman even bother sending the speaker to LG for repair as they claimed to have done. What's the point for buying appliances at a reputable store if their after sales service is comparable to any other dingy kampung shops?

I see it plain and simple. It's called exploitation. Very few people would question much when they are told that something is "spoiled beyond repair". This is called a scam. And this whole shebang, was to see how far we would go in terms of claiming our rightful consumer rights. It wasn't accidental that they didn't notice a wire fell out of place. It wasn't the possibility of an incompetent set of electricians that worked at LG. It was a plain simple feat to cheat.

Sorry Harvey, you picked the wrong person. I'm going to get you down, if it's the last thing I do!

My Portobello woes...

Recently, I've been trying out various organic restaurants. Frankly, there are only a handful in KL since most of them do not seem to be able to sustain in business long enough to see the returns. Organic food is hard to grow, as the absence of chemicals means a larger mortality rates among the crops and livestock, hence the big price tag on it.

But when it comes to good healthy fresh food, even with my meager salary, that is one thing i will not singe on. I believe in that wholesome food, is worth every extra penny. After all, you are what you eat. Nevertheless, being an enthusiastic cook myself, I am convinced that healthy food does not always have to take a back seat when it comes to taste and quality. Organic food does not mean, lesser tasty food. If I can do it at the privacy of my own kitchen, and have my guests rave about my food, I expect a certain deliverance of quality when I pay the extra buck at a reputable restaurant with trained chefs as the brain child behind the menu.

After reading reviews of the Yogi Tree in Gardens Midvalley, I decided to give it a go. With all the good reviews, they had to have something to offer. Sadly, I was grossly disappointed. Note, grossly...I had my first meal at the Yogi Tree 2 weeks ago and it was far from a pleasant adventure. Ambiance, check. Presentation, check. The rest, cross cross cross! And here is why I only decided to write about it now, and not right after my disastrous meal.

I went to the Yogi Tree with two other friends. After much coaxing and a recitation of supporting facts of the amazing reviews, they decided to give this place a chance. I ordered the Pesto Portobello pasta. When it arrived, we laughed so hard i think the waiter was taken aback with offence. See, anyone who knows what a Portobello mushroom is, knows that it is the size of a person's palm. Instead, I had a miniscule mushroom, ONE miniscule mushroom on top of my mountain of pasta. My "portobello" was the size of a 50 cent coin. I still gave it the benefit of doubt since it was organically grown, and I assumed it was smaller due to the absence of chemicals and pesticides. One taste however, revealed that my portobello tasted more like a button mushroom. I eat ALOT of portobello and I'm fully aware of what a Portobello mushroom is supposed to taste like. My pasta was lightly coated with what I assume was pesto since the dish was called "pesto Portobello", since i could hardly taste the basil. Bland and boring, I was disappointed. RM 22

B* ordered the Hainanese chicken rice. The chicken was bland with no taste of sesame oil. The rice, oily but tasteless, no taste of being cooked in chicken stock. The soup! Santa Maria, tasted like water. He couldn't finish a third of it without gagging, and swapped it with my equally bland Pesto Portobello Pasta. He reckoned that bland tasting pasta was better than eating chicken that tasted as if it was still clucking of the plate (not in a good way). RM18

Y* ordered the Full English Vegetarian Breakfast. Hers was the best of all, since you can hardly go wrong with canned baked beans and roasted tomatoes and mushrooms. Her scrambled eggs however, were soggy and pepper deficient.  Over all, nothing to shout about. RM 22.

Many people raved about the Yogi Tree's desserts. Since I did not order any, due to my deflated vigor of wanting to try any more of their food, I cannot comment.

So here's why I decided to blog about this today. The Yogi Tree had a full spread article today on The Star. Yes, it had good reviews again. But i was scandalized when I saw a picture of the very same Pesto Portobello Pasta which i ordered. The Portobello, was a huge succulent mushroom sitting on top of the bed of very green pesto tossed pasta.

I felt ripped off. My mushroom, was quarter the size of THIS one,

So here is what i don't get. How could a restaurant be commended for their food when they obviously served larger, better tasting portions to journalists and food reviewers? It doesn't take much skill to make food taste good. More often, it is just that restaurateurs cut back on raw materials to profit more. Bland food doesn't always mean its healthier. I didn't need the extra salt to make my food taste better. I am ranting because I was short changed, as a paying customer.

Maybe the chef was feeling a little under the weather that day. Maybe there was a huge mess up in the kitchen the very same fateful day I decided to give it a go...

Regardless, what baffles me most is whether Malaysians are becoming so Yuppie-fied these days that they rate any place with good ambiance positively, or is it just that Malaysians have developed very low expectations in terms of taste buds?

In an Eggshell

I was reading this forwarded mail today about Eggs . Yes Eggs, as in chicken eggs and I thought of a peculiar friend who once told me her family were part of the Egg club. And yes you heard me right again, there is an "Egg Club". I remembered asking her, what do the members of the Egg Club talk about or do when they meet up?
"oh, we talk about different recipes of cooking eggs, and try explain to the new comers that they whole "Too much eggs are bad for you" is a scam of the Poultry Corporate Agenda to get people to eat chicken instead of eggs."

Back to the article I was reading about, the author was talking the grossly misunderstood "egg-yolk" in the health market. If you look at the raw "eggy" facts, he is right, as it is true that Eggs alone, cannot cause you a roof hitting cholesterol. Eggs are WAY WAY healthier than having a bagel or a slice of wholewheat bread.  But we don't JUST eat eggs alone, do we? An average American eats at least a whole pizza a month. A regular American, eats fast food as a meal at least 4 times a week. As for Malaysians, a packet of Nasi Lemak contains the same amount of calories as a regular slice of pizza. And two slices of wholemeal bread contains the same amount of carbs as two slices of white bread, just with more fibre content. So is eating a full egg or two for breakfast daily, with the cholesterol ridden yolk everyday a good thing, considering that while we might eat healthy for one meal of the day, and binge on other meals?


This is what I think, he obviously had no right to send out a public message stating that the cholesterol in egg yolk is not detrimental if over-eaten as he was not a medically trained professional. The author is merely a "Certified Nutrition Specialist" and a "Personal Trainer". So I googled his qualifications and realised that, to be a certified Nutrition Specialist, you don't need to be medically trained. In fact, the course encompasses subjects such as preventive nutrition, digestion, metabolism, macrobiotics, soil ecology, herbology and biochemicals, herbs and vitamins and minerals, AND it only takes a person with no prior pre-requisite educational background to complete the course and gain certification in 26 to 76 weeks, depending on the depth a person wants to go into while getting his/her certification. SO, it is safe to say that "Nutritional Specialists" are not specialists at all. They are like beauticians. Beauticians are not dermatologists. They have the raw facts, but they do not study the interaction of human body and chemical and substances and is therefore, NOT qualified to give a professional opinion.




What about the people who work out? Do they get to binge more than the others? The thing is, everyone's body's chemical composition of hormones are different. Some of us have bad fat-hording genes, some have better. Different people have different metabolic rates and there is not one diet plan which is the most healthy and best suited for all age groups. In fact, talking about age groups, let's not forget that age, BMIs, racial genetic composition and gender plays a part in how your body stores fat and where it decides to store fats. Point being, a personal trainer is just a personal trainer. He can guide you and assume you fall within the bell curve, but only you, who are the only one who's fully aware of what you put into your mouth can decide on the proper strategy to lose weight and eat healthy.

A to maintain a healthy lifestyle, only you can experiment, research and decide what's a "proper" diet for you. The next person who can help you? Is a medically trained dietitian, not a bogus "certified nutritionist" or a "personal trainer" from somewhere.




However, a few things can help if you are on a weight loss, get fit regimen.


1) Lean white meat
This means either fish, or lean pork, turkey or chicken breast. Eating wings or drumsticks or the thighs, the yummy part of the good ole chicken means that you are also eating ligaments, tendons, and animal fats which are hidden in between layers.


2) Steam, bake, minimize gravy
Sometimes I see people on diet eating large portions of rice with gravy of meat cooked in. This is the thing, balance is everything. You will be getting more protein, less fat, by eating the meat, rather than eating carbs and gravy. They may look less rich, but they are definitely more ladden in oil and cholesterol and salt and sugar. If you are going to have fried chicken, you might as well have the skin as well, because it is already suicide to your diet.


3) Vegetarians are thinner?
Yes and no. If you are going to cook your veges beyond recognition, all you will get is fibre and carbs as the end product. Vitamins and minerals perish in long cooking/high heat. Also, vegetarians who do not take more tofu, beans and lentils which are their only protein, tend to get even fatter than they were, and also weaker. Your body needs protein, and when it doesn't get enough protein to build muscles, it captures whatever fats and converts carbs faster into fats as storage so that it can release sugar when you are low in energy. If you are on a vegetarian diet, then you should be loading up on protein more than carbs to keep you healthy


4) I work out, so I can binge
False, If you are going to run the threadmill for an hour, burn 500 calories, and then binge on a nasi lemak with fried chicken, you have just worked off 3/4 of your nasi lemak, and nothing else of your fat storage. Counting calories may seem destitutional and a form of obsession, but it helps you get onboard on that healthy path, sooner, easier.


5) Cook your own food.
Cooking your own food is a great way to cut back unhealthy food. It wasn't until I started learning how to cook from my mother did i realise how much salt,sugar, and oil was used to make that perfectly tasty curry! If you are conscious over what you put into your food, you would think twice to eat out often. You could also monitor how much of what you eat, and not just finish up portions served outside that might be too big for you for the mere sake of being prudent.


6) Lastly, moderation
A bite of cookie, 5 pieces of fries, or a scoop of icecream isn't going to upset your diet. A big plate of ceasar salad, large plate of healthy tossed pasta and vege in olive oil or a whole meal sandwiched with processed turkey/ham slices IS going to upset your diet. Bulk is never healthy, even when it's healthy food. Eat in moderation, smaller meals, more times a day, and count those calories.


It's the 21st century.. take charge.. Use Google to your advantage for God's sake without relying completely on pigeon looking trainers. It is always alright to question, if even if it is professional help. It is when we don't question, is when we're ignorant.

Heaven on Earth

As much as I love the city and its toxic fumes and never sleeping technicolored lights, the jungle does something funny to me.

Some people ask me, how do you do it? Well they mean, you look like a pampered city girl, why would you go into the jungle, get muddy,trek, sweat n suffer. And some friends I quote, say that, "Holidays are only holidays when it comes with a big comfy bed".

I was always a nature person. I remembered my father teaching me how to climb coconut trees and rambutan trees whenever we went back to Mersing, my grandfather's place, which was considered "jungle" enough for me. I used to pick up tiny flowers, watch the trail of ants with enthusiasm, and wow over new discoveries that I found lying in the scrubs. While my cousins would pluck the flowers for Masak-masak adventures, I was out there smelling the roses, and advocating that roses belongs on their stems, not in out make believe kuali.

 But I must admit, that walking inside a 130 million years old virgin rainforest, is a whole different feeling. It brings serenity, tranquility and yet exhilaration of what you might discover next. Your heart breaks along with the thousands of species living in the jungle as you watch logging tracks being formed and homes being taken up by trucks and tractors. Your heart skips a beat when you witness the priceless phenomenon of more than 150 Hornbills soaring in the sky together. You trek in the depths and ignore your irrational fear and mental protests of leeches just to see a blooming rare flower. You take every step with caution, noting that this land you are stepping on, is someone else's home. You squeal with delight just by coming across prints of animals living in the jungle, both prey and predators co-existing together in harmony, sharing the same source of hot springs. You wonder how a home which houses thousands of species, which is equivalent to human "races" can co-exist in an area for millions of years, and we, a country of less than 10 races, is constantly fighting to gain racial supremity, and can't learn to give and take. You wonder why humans would choose to destroy an area which is so close to our idea of what "heaven" is.

The rainforest is a place where miracles are alive. So if you think you need some miracle in your life, you might want to take a few days, breathe the freshest air in our region's largest carbon sink, and you could just amaze yourself with how much you could fall in love with it after all.

Little Fluffs of heaven

The obssession is back. Yesterday, Chatty K texted me, "Guess what's in my car?" I started flabbergasting and felt sweat trickle down my back.

No it wasn't a cute puppy. No it wasn't SLASH, though it could have been since he was in town for concert last night. I did consider Jeevan in a snide way, because she said "what" and not "who". The only time Chatty K would refer to a person as an object is Jeevan. Sorry, no offense dude..

I was right, her brunch trip to see her french chef friend, meant french macaroons!. Glorious crispy fluffs of heaven. So Chatty K resumes to spoil my day by changing her mind every few seconds to whether she would come by and pass me my macaroons. And then she proceeds to test my patience by informing me that she has "shared" my macaroons with some people and popped a few in her mouth. She then insults the macaroons! Biatch... by saying they weren't that great.

9.30pm was hard to wait for. She finally pulled up, and I skipped towards her like Merry Lou and gasped at what she was holding. It wasn't 1, or 2, or even 5 macaroons. It was 12! The macaroons had feet ( tiny jagged edges), I smiled.. I took a bite, crispy yet light as air on the outside, sweet and tangy and soft on the inside. No eggy taste, perfectly shaped dome, pretty feet, ganache made with real vanilla beans! I was in heaven.

SO here's the thing. I gave up making macaroons about months ago. After my almost 40 odd failed attempts, I grew tired of scraping them sticky failures off my pan, wasting baking paper, and i told myself. They were JUST cookies, I can live without them. I was bitter because there is not one thing i cannot learn how to cook. And this little buggers, wouldn't even rise and look anything like how they were meant to look like.

After my salivating affair with Fred's macaroons last night, and Fred generously offering to give me a class on how to make perfect french macaroons, I'm back with a reignited passion more than ever for these bite size fluffs of heaven.

Moon oh Moon...

Where is unhappiness?

 Even if you are out of this world I say..

Take the Moon for instance,

It is sad, It is unhappy,

Why you may ask?

The moon is the unhappiest of all,

Simply because it hates the sun. 

It hates the big blazing hot sun, 

It hates that the "sun" is power and might,

It hates the smooth light emiting surface of the sun,

It hates the craters that are instead, on its face.

It hates the fact that when there's sun, there cannot be moon,

But most of all,

It hates that the one thing it hates the most, 

Is the only reason why, its existence is made known.

Because without its worst enemy,

Lending light to it,

We will never see the moon,

And never know that it watches over us, 

As we sleep at night. 

(I changed little bits and pieces but Thank you Bernard, I loved this...)

The Pain of the Street

One of my favorite books of all time is "The Busy Life of Bees", but not for the obvious reasons of why this book was a best seller. I remembered a side-kick character in the book, May Boatwright who was a frail woman with the greatest intentions in the world. She was seen as sick, with a mental disorder, manic depressive, and unstable. She carried the weight of the world's sufferings on her shoulder. She felt every pain, agony, and suffering her peers felt. She would sing when she was depressed, and had her very own "wailing wall" to pay tribute to the people who have suffered in this torrential world. She was considered, abnormal. She eventually took her life as she could not bear the pain that was surrounding the world.

Why is it abnormal to feel the pain that the world feels? Why is it normal to be detached from the world's sufferings. Just because it has nothing to do with our personal life, does that really mean that we are over reacting when we feel rage towards injustice, and agony to watch children and people suffer at the hands of inequality? Success is measured by money and fame, and not good deeds. What a sick world this place is.

In many ways, May Boatwright was my favorite character because I understood how she felt. The helplessness of not being able to do more for the ones who were suffering. The physical pain that felt so real, so deep when you can do nothing to help another person cope with their struggle. As K* was telling me about her social outreach yesterday with the street kids of KL, I wondered, how do I sleep at night knowing that there's nothing that I am doing to help these children. How do the nation of this country go on enjoying their daily comforts of a clean warm bed, knowing they're children out there, living for the day, living for the moment. Well, I didn't sleep that night, nor the night after, at least not in peace..

I want to let you in on a little secret. Amidst our hustle and bustled lives, we walk past people in need every day without even realising the ones in pain, are extending an arm to beg for a thread of our charity, or a second chance. In the heart of KL, where socialites and yuppies feed their weekly need to party, lies a group of kids who have been surviving the only way they know how, being at the mercy of drug syndicates. These kids come from broken homes, some kids don't even remember where they came from. Some kids are preparing for motherhood, fostering a new generation the only way they know how, to continue living in abandoned projects, burrowing holes in the grounds to keep away from local authorities and larger syndicates who might force them into more venomous trades than they are already in. These kids are not only matted by dirt, they have lines on their face, any teenager should not have. They will eventually become what we call "social garbage". They are Malaysians.

For the many people out there who do not know know of this. It might come as an initial shock, but this will eventually become another one of the world's woes that they would shrug off their conscience. For the people who work in the social work line, they say, what's being done for them, is all that can be done for now. For other people who are aware of these predicaments, they say, but the kids are incorrigible and are too damaged to be saved. For the social welfare and local authorities who are weeding out the kids and sending them to rehabilitation centres and social welfare home where their stay has an expiry, they say, there's too many out there, we're doing our best, we lack resources, all in the name of just arresting (note: not rescuing) them to fill in their quotas.

As we, the everyday people, think about prince charmings, that new bright shiny car, our future houses with white picket fences, and the deciding on the right time to churn out more children to live in this world, we never really stop to think twice do we? What about giving second chances? There's nothing wrong with wanting material stuff and yet allocating some space in your life to make a difference in someone else's who is in need.

So here I am, feeling a fraction of what May Boatwright felt, using this blog as my wailing wall, and singing along to sad tunes on the radio while I drive so that I can relieve some sort of pain. Am i weird to feel the pain of strangers unrelated to me? Maybe.. For what's worth, I'd rather live a life caring, than a life ignoring....

Tell them I was Happy, And my Heart was Broken, All my Scars are Opened..

People say that happy times will come and go, but betrayals are there to stay.. They lay dormant in the nook and crannies of the cracks of your mended heart and slitter out to infect you with pain and sorrow whenever you are vulnerable.

I guess in everyone's lifetime, we have been betrayed before, in one way or another, whether it is a betrayal of a friend, or betrayal of trust by your parents, or the betrayal of a loved one whom you call your own, the scar is there and the truth is, the greater the magnitude of the betrayal, the more often the occurrence of future betrayals.

It's a sick cycle isn't it? What I think is that it can also lead back to the theory that sometimes when we are overly careful, we might be unconsciously plotting our own downfall. It's like being overly careful when you slice a tomato with an extremely sharp knife. As you take caution in every slice, fear populates your mind that you might hurt yourself.  The fear that populates your mind takes up all the space in your mind, and you let your defenses down, because you are crippled by the fear of slashing a finger. Soon, thats all you can think about, the fear, and slacken your grip on the actual intention, which is to be careful in the first place. Before you know it, your worst fear happens, you've been cut, without even realising it.

In my opinion, thats how it is with surviving betrayals. For people who have gone through multiple betrayals, the fear of going through another is so crippling that they either try to hard to ensure it doesn't end up that way again, or throw in the towel and hope for the best. They can do everything in their might to make different choices than the previous choices taken to avoid betrayal, but the fear is still there. The same, good ole fear.

When I used to trained bantered victims of Gender Based Violence on Coping Strategies for Abuse, I went by one single question. Is it really alright to tuck your unhappiness in a box and store it away? My answer is yes, but whats more important is the reason you are tucking the bad memories away for. Do you tuck it away, to try forget it ever happened, or do you tuck it away as a past chapter of your life, but with full acknowledgement that you are at ease with this bad memory that has happened to you?

Making the Wall of Fame

I came back from work early yesterday. God knows I needed to get some housework done. With a dog on heat in a small apartment, cleaning just got harder and needed more than ever on a daily basis. So the first thing I did after giving Piggy a rub on her ears when I got home, was plunk on the couch and turned on the TV. American Idol was on, and so was Norman Gentle.

For those of you who actually followed through American Idol's Hollywood week from season 8, you would remember "Norman Gentle", a exuberant enthusiastic guy in his 30's who wore his signature glitzy techni-colored shirt. The guy wasn't Pavarotti or Mick Jagger, but well, he could sing. Out of all the queers who have auditioned for American Idol for the past 9 years, he was the very first Queer to make it through the top 24.

 People come in all shapes, sizes, colors and personalities. And in our lifetime, we are sure to meet at least one extraordinarily queer person. Whether it is their choice of fashion, or their personality. It could be a pathological liar or a person who has ego the size of a football field, or a queer sense of fashion, such as, Norman Gentle. So I invite you to put down your nominees for that special queer person, who has made a lasting impression/dent/damage/memory in your life when you comment on the post and i will include the description on this post.

1.  The self proclaimed hunk who has the urge to get strangers to feel his muscles lest they don't believe that he has any. He has also (according to him) traveled the world and experienced everything in life. I.E; if you said you've played Cinderella in a child's play, he would have probably claimed to have done so too.


2. The confused man who has an identity and nationality crisis. For example, when in Aussie, claim to be an Aussie. When in company of Malays, claim to be of Malay heritage.


3. The pathological liar who can't distinguish lies from fact because he is so used to lying. I.E, forgetting how many kids he has actually fathered out there.


4. The one who has an issue with "bathing" daily though living in a hot humid country. Justification: Water strips off your body's natural defense barrier


5. The "tak-jadi-rock-star" who abuses his wife and believes that it is part and parcel of life


6. The one who stuffs used sanitary pads in her drawers. Justification: NO IDEA


7. The one who is overbearing up to a point of it not being humanly possible. Then again, she's hardly any human anymore.


8. The one who talks about her sex life and her sex life ONLY, even to strangers


9. The one who wants to nail everything and anything with a va-jay-jay


10. The one who is brilliant and successful, but would not touch the door knob. Justification: OCD


11. The kleptomaniac that steals everything, and parades it without guilt or fear