Amends

It’s 10 past 3 a.m and God only knows why I’m up at this odd hour.

My mind’s in a mess - taking me back and forth to a surprising string of memories I’ve stored away for ages. With those almost-forgotten memories were the strong feelings that came with it.

You.

I’ve always been a huge fan of poetry. There’s something magical about how a word can compliment another and be formed into a sentence that resonates so beautifully and hold a meaning so profound. Lang Leav’s ‘Lullabies’ was nothing short from it.

Hastily browsing from one book shelf to another at the bookstore the other day, my eyes somehow spotted the dark blue covered book and there was no turning back. I just had to get it! And on that same day, by bedtime, I’d finished reading the entire thing.

There were so many pages in there that pulled at my heart-strings, so many I dog-eared. But only one, I felt a need to express.

*takes a deep breath*

You.

I’ve read this particular poem over and over again, and two people to mind – perhaps one more often than the other but still two very constant images come to mind. Right at this moment, my mind’s not doing such a good job standing its ground. Instead it chooses to let my heart meddle.

• Half of my heart is still pretty hopeful, despite the distance and despite the fact our only encounters have been via social media network. Everything from the way we got in touch to our conversations was too good to be true… as things like these never do happen to me. NEVER. And in the end I realized that it was a little too good to be true. But the hopeless romantic in me still kept hoping for you to be, well, true. I mean, how can I not hope for that at the very least when you’ve given me so much ‘hope’, given our circumstances. I can’t really put my finger on it but when I think of you and my mind’s in shambles, all that resounds in my ears are the apologies you’ve said to me, our conversations via Whatsapp voice-notes or the recent craze, Snapchats. You may know who you are once you’ve read this (I hope you never do!) and I may never have the guts to ever meet you face-to-face after this, but since you’re far far away and I’m here, facing a blank page just waiting to be filled, I want you to know that I’ve never regretted getting to know you. You are unique, quirky and funny and I was blessed with the opportunity to cross ‘social-media-paths’ with you, even if it was short-lived. You fulfilled everything in my ‘list’, as cliché as that sounds and if that’s even remotely possible, you must be a good-catch for any girl out there. Even if we’re “brosters” and even if our friendship blossomed into something more, I’d await the day I get to meet the man on the other side of my phone screen.




• The other half of my heart is transgressing beyond bounds, so much so, it feels sinful. This part of my heart brings me back to the naïve and innocent age of thirteen – the first time I saw you, the first time I ever felt so strongly for anyone (teenage-girl hormones, what to do) You were my first everything – well, not everything, if you know what I mean, but first love, definitely) and although you have hurt me in the past and present, there somehow always is a soft-spot for you no matter how hard I try to erase you and the memories of you from my life. Each time I try and contemplate the possibility of forgiving you and rewinding to where we started off, my heart and mind team up and give out the loudest warning signals. This is how I know you are no good for me; that there’s ‘trouble’ written all over you. I have even resorted to mentally list out all the reasons why we’re no good together but the funny thing about your heart is that sometimes, it has a mind of its own and in the spur of the moment, it caves in. If there’s anything I’d like for you to know, it’s that I miss you. I miss our talks and the times we spent together, just hanging out. I miss it even more because I know we can never get it back. This is not about forgiveness as we’re way past all that. I guess this mainly has to do with myself, and how much trust I have in myself. You see, the thing is, I don’t trust myself with you. I’m afraid I’d cave-in one day and things would get so messy and that you’d break my heart again, like you did all those times before. And this time, I’d be the biggest fool – the shame would be on me. So this is where I draw the line. Whenever I see you on the street, I won’t hesitate to say ‘Hi’ and make small talk but other than that, our memories and what we used to have would be buried so deep in the recesses of my mind, not intending to be unraveled anytime soon.




Now that I've got this all out of my system, I'm slowly starting to regret this. God help me. 

Hi.

The thought of writing again must have crossed my mind a thousand times now ever since the last time I actually reveled in the bliss of running my fingers along the keyboard and watching the screen before me be filled with whatever that was in my mind - be it past or present. Oh, how I've missed the precious times I've spent filling up this page. Those times were indeed therapeutic. I still can't believe my last post was in the year 2012. That came as a shocker, given the fact that I used to be as much of an avid writer as I was an avid reader.

Anyway, as I'm still uncertain if this post marks my comeback to the blogsphere, I shall skip the apologetic hoohah (because I always find myself apologizing after having gone MIA) and avoid being devolved to a pathetic void of nostalgia. What I will do, however, is sum up all that has happened this past two years that I've been away - whatever I can recall off the top of my head, that is. 

So in no chronological or alphabetical order whatsoever, here goes: I have...

• Traveled to 3 different countries in the span of one month. 
• Tagged along on an all-expense paid trip to Penang for a week. 
• Visited Paris - and all its' wonders and even spent a few days in the suburbs. 
• Fired a read gun (and hit the target!)
• Watched a show at the Dewan Filharmonic Petronas - Ramli Ibrahim & The MPO.
• Read the whole Divergent blockbuster in the span of 3 days - 4 books. 
• Babysat my cousin, Zara, ho happens to be the coolest 11 year old I know. 
• Re-watched the Disney movies I grew up watching- everything from The Lion King to The Little Mermaid. 
• Hiked up a hill. 
• Spent alone time at a little cafe to write and enjoy a cup of coffee (I don't drink coffee)
• Cafe-hopped - 5 different cafes in a day. 
• Ordered pancakes for dinner (First of all, I don't EVER eat pancakes and second, having it for dinner is a big no-no)
• Had way too many cheat meals, I feel like I've committed some great sin. 
• Stopped the pace of writing I usually keep at - obviously!
• Tried different workouts to switch things up - HIIT, Heat Yoga, crazy-intense circuits. 
• Worked for a Team Building event. 
• Went out to meet people for the first time and had a good time. 
• Did a photoshoot, all thanks to a dear friend. 
• Fell in love with someone online, someone I haven't even met. 
• Dated a classmate and left because I lost interest. 
• Went out, had lots of fun in the company of good friends and came home at 6am. 
• Had a big surprised 21st birthday, put together by my siblings.
• Lost a few people I loved to death.
• Picked up a few new hobbies and dropped them. 
• Screwed up in an exam. 
• Decided to quit being the one always initiating meetups when the other party doesn't even bother to meet me halfway. 
• Attended my first rave - Tiesto and also went for Avicii. 
• Worked for a rave concert. 
• Walked around the KLCC park for 5 times because I wanted a conversation to go on. 
• Met my dad's ex-girlfriend. 
• Had a feud with my grandma and aunt, over a stupid misunderstanding. 
• Attended a wedding, a funeral, birthdays and a Christening.
• Went on an impromptu escapade to Genting just to lay under a starry sky and have Starbucks coffee. 
• Changed my first tyre.
• Attended a Varsity Camp. 
• Went on a food-hunting trip with buddies to Melaka. 

I wish I had listed it all down before I decided to write this post. There's still a lot more I'm sure I haven't mentioned but this is good enough for the spontaneity I opted no? Heh. 

Perhaps the next post will be slightly more in detailed than this one and hopefully, I'll have something worth writing - something I won't hesitate to post, something that will revive this blog. 

Until next time, tata! 

For starters, 'Hello.'

Hi. You must not remember me, let alone remember my name. But that is okay – there will be time for re-introductions in the near future. Hopefully.  As for now, you just need to know my name. My name is Kristen Alyssa Sylvanmani and I turned nineteen on the 11^th of April. I am a Malaysian and have been born and bred in this little tiny red dot on the World Map, known as Malaysia but unfortunately, which can hardly be seen with the naked eye.

I don’t intend to come off as too formal but I am afraid I have already given you that impression. Anyhow, I should probably proceed with this – letter? note? – anyway. Time has a knack of dragging on too long when we are caught in situations which don’t tickle our fancies and it passes by at the speed of light when we are doing what we absolutely, passionately love to do. I, as you might have already guessed, found myself trapped in-between the two. Instead of responsibly taking matters into my own hands and doing what a normal living, breathing person would do while caught in such a situation – try to turn matters around – I had allowed myself to be drowned in my own self-pity and had allowed myself to manifest on pathetic excuses which were solely lead by my over-empowering laziness – the ‘I’ll-do-it-tomorrow’ syndrome. At the other end of this tug-of-war, instead of basking in my God-given gifts to do the things I love, I consciously allowed myself to fall from the pedestal , holding on to the fact that there will always be another day for me to shine. Both roads of which I’d stumbled upon – although tip-toeing my way through – lead me to where I am today. This very day. (I am sensing that I might have unintentionally related my situation to that of the character in The Road Not Taken, a poem I studied during my lower-forms in high school.)

With all my might and strength, I willed myself to open up Microsoft Word today, place all my 10 fingers on the keyboard, to simply type. I realized that I have not done this in the longest time as while I was preparing my mindset to write with the guidance of my creative juices, an over-whelming splash of emotion hit me like a tidal wave, as if to say, “Welcome Home!” As comforting as that split-second feeling was, I know I still owe you an explanation. Somehow or rather, knowing that I have to do what I have to do, I feel like a little kid who is being punished by her mother for something she did wrong. It is the feeling of knowing that even after all the scolding you are going to get, along with perhaps a few strokes from the rattan and even after apologizing a gazillion times, there would still be an explanation expected by your mother for your absurd behavior. Sigh, mothers…

An explanation? I don’t have any. I know too well that it is not something you want to hear but at this point, taking into account our unfortunate circumstance, I’d rather be blatantly honest than concoct sugar-coated, flowery lies to soothe your soul.

And now I’m stuck again as apologizing is another strenuous task.

To sum up all that I have written above and to reach the intention of this supposedly letter of apology, I want to firstly say that I am sorry.

I am sorry for abandoning this little nook of mine in the blogsphere.

I am sorry for allowing myself to get so lazy and brain-dead.

I am sorry for abandoning and disregarding my passion for writing.

I am sorry for giving up so easily when I couldn’t think of anything that was worth penning down.

I am sorry for taking for granted the gifts God has given me.

I am so sorry for not sticking to the end of my bargain by writing every happening in my life.

I am just so sorry.

I may not know who I am apologizing to or whether there is even a need for me to apologize to begin with but I hope you – whoever is reading this – would forgive me anyway. Despite all that I have apologized for, I hang on to the thought that maybe the joke’s on me. Maybe I owe myself an apology. After all, isn’t it similar to the overrated truth that ‘you’ve got to love yourself first before you can love another’?

If it is, well then maybe that’s the price I’ve got to repay some other day.

As for today, and hopefully in the all the days that follow, I am home. 

It feels like the first time

I must have done this a million times now - clicking on the 'New Post' button and opening a new tab, only to stare at it blankly for seconds that turn into minutes, and then upon realizing that I might not get any writing done by simply staring, I give up entirely and click on the 'X' button of that tab to get it out of my sight.

I don't know how I let it get to this. I don't know how I'd allowed myself to become so distant with what I once loved doing on a daily basis. I just don't. But what I do know and what I'm choosing to believe is that despite the laziness and constant acts of 'surrender' I'm beginning to incultivate in my daily routine, the few months right before I sat for my A2 exams which I spent drilling and disciplining myself to concentrate only on my books and nothing else did much more harm than I imagined possible.

It may have only been a mere month and a half since my last post but in truth and in all honesty, it has never felt longer. At least my old self would think so - the girl whom would religiously make sure that she has something to write every other given day, if not everyday. Days and weeks have flown by unproductively and as I continue to dig deeper and reach within myself in search to find the girl I used to know so well, I seem to failing as not even a trace of her presence in my life can be found, although a mere reflection of my inner-self she is.

Fullstop. Maybe this time, I don't want to justify my actions nor do I want to explain for my misbehavior in abandoning my little nook despite the oaths, promises and vows that were taken against it. Maybe this time, I don't even want to apologize. So, with the aforementioned, I'm letting myself off the hook and this means... we may very well proceed onto greener pastures, per se. 

In my last blog entry - the blog entry I posted approximately a month and a half ago - I had typed out an exceptionally long list of 'tasks' to do, given the fact that my A2 exams have been dealt with. It was somewhat a 'Bucket List'; yes you could call it that. But as dormant as I've been in my writing, the same issue happened when it came to completing the tasks on my list and striking them off. Despite the handful of tasks I'd managed to complete, it still wasn't enough to satisfy me. There are a lot of things I could have done with the ample time I had on my hands, maximizing the hours of each day to it's full capacity. Unfortunately, it was just my luck to have various events occur, preventing me from carrying out those tasks.

I didn't register myself for any of the courses my college was offering for the Summer School Programme. I didn't take up a part-time job to earn that little pocket money on the side. The trip to Perhentian with my college girlfriends didn't happen either, as one or the other was either working or too caught-up with the hectic schedules in their lives. I didn't get to tag along with Daddy to Australia/L.A as the re-formating of his new timetable made it difficult to plan ahead for when to apply for my visas. I also didn't make use of my free time to take up playing the guitar as it recently got returned back to me after being repaired. I neither made it point to pick up a new language nor did I go rock-climbing as according to plan.

Although I did not get to do the whole list of things above, and although I'm still so agitated with myself for not getting to do those things, I have decided to let it go because in the period of time those things were not accomplished, others were.

I have spent more time in the kitchen, working on my culinary skills, baking and learning how to cook the dishes Nanny is famous for. I passed my A-levels and would now be moving on to do my LLB (UKT, hopefully). I caught up with long-lost, good-old friends and spent ample time basking in the comforts of the easiness and closeness of our relationship, making up for the weeks - and for some, months - we've spent apart. I resumed doing covers again and have been diligently practicing my vocal range as well as straining my vocal chords. I have spent every morning, 5 days a week, running/jogging and working on my stamina and am still at it religiously. I have read an exceptional variety of good books, ranging from romantic novels, chick-lits to fictionally inspirational. Heh! As for the shopping, I did a whole lot of that too.

It appears that I need not be so agitated with myself after all.

The month of August is flying by, moving at the speed of light. The month of fasting for the Muslims would be ending in a few more days and by Saturday, it'll be time to go back to their hometowns to celebrate. The Bazaar Ramadhans along every possible lorong in K.L would be packing-up and closing stall as well - oh how my aunt and I have enjoyed the vast variety of mouth-watering delicacies that can only be found during the fasting month. The Kuih Pelita and Kuih Cara have always been my favorite!

As for me, well... my days of lazing around the house and hitting the malls at every chance I get would be ending soon too. But since the month of September is still a few weeks away, I would have until then.


Selmat Hari Raya Aidilfitri, folks! 

Laziness vs. Believing

It's been approximately three months since I have taken the time to construct my thoughts, string them into sentences and allow my fingertips to be guided by my heart's rhythm. Or to be precise, I allowed my thoughts and writings to take the backseat; not prioritizing them the way I normally would. The primary reason for my actions was due to the fact that my exams were so closely around the corner, and I felt it necessary to drop everything and just concentrate on doing what I was supposed to do - study for my A2 exams. This went on from the beginning of April right up to the day I had my last paper, which was on the 15th of June. I made a mental deal with myself which was sort of like this: Once my exams are over, I'd start writing again. And I'd kept this deal diligently, however, it did not only last until the day of my last paper but throughout the many weeks that followed.

Instead of transitioning my sedentary lifestyle of studying and eating to doing the list of things I had planned to do once my exams were over, all I'd accomplish from that list was gallivanting, bombarding shopping malls and the most productive one of all, reading the books that having been so patiently sitting on my bookshelf just waiting for their turn to be picked-up and read. Apart from these, there's nothing much I've gotten done, really.

I still have a long way to go to be completely and utterly satisfied in knowing that my weeks of liberation have been well-spent, as you can see for yourself:

• Join the Summer School programe my college is so enthusiastically advertising. 
• Take up a part-time job, for a little pocket money on the side. 
• The trip to Perhentian with my college group of hooligans. 
• Australia/L.A - or maybe even both, hopefully - with Dad. 
• Learn how to play the guitar or maybe just get back to learning how to play the piano. 
• Learn a new, foreign language. 
• Rock-climbing. 
• Learning how to cook and start playing an important role in the kitchen.
• Catch-up like the good ol' days with friends. 
• Continue making covers. 
• Performing. 
• Shopping. 
• Getting in shape, strengthening my core, and making sure that I'm bursting with energy.
• Reading. 

etcetera, etcetera... 

It takes a lot of hard work trying to convince myself that there are just not enough hours in a day but the truth is that the months of moulding and limiting myself to doing only so much as eat, study and sleep during my exam period have awakened the devil of laziness inside of me, making it a constant struggle to stay determined and get my list of tasks done. I've become somewhat a very infamous procrastinator, allowing the devil of laziness inside me to feed on whatever is left of the ounces of determination and energy that used to overflow bountifully, leaving me adamant and sinfully lazy. 

Before I decided to jump out of bed and tell myself that "Today, I am going to start writing again." , I was so close to believing that maybe, just maybe, I've lost all my sense, passion and ability to write. And that maybe, writing just isn't for me. Trying to convince myself, my mind swirled and I was thinking along the lines of "maybe God decided that I should just stick to singing", "maybe I should stop writing because I'm not as good as all those brilliant and smart writers out there" and even "maybe I should just give up and accept the fact that it's not my gift."

But by believing and having faith, this post is proof that I still have it in me. I still have not certified if whether 'writing' is what I'm called to do or even 'singing', for that matter, but what I do know is that they both wash over me a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment that I never get tired of feeling. I love that I can write and express my thoughts. I love that I can sing in tune and hit high notes. I just love it. 

During my talk with God in the wee hours of last night, I'd asked him to help me nurture the gifts he had blessed me with, and with those gifts, help me find my calling. I also asked him to please allow me to write again. I prayed for will and determination as well, to get it done. 

I woke up today, feeling thankful and blessed. I went for my morning run and did some cardio. I ate a hearty breakfast. I showered. Once I did what was of a necessity, I willed myself to sit down and write. 

Today, for the first time in a long time, I wrote.



P.S - I have absolutely no clue as to whether this makes up for my months away but all I need you guys to know is that I'm truly sorry. 

Party rockin' at Twin Towers Live 2012

In the weeks that have summed up my inevitable absence, I'm convinced (and I'm sure you are too) of the fact that I am not a cut-out promise keeper. Instead of keeping my promise to keep my blog alive come what may, this lacklustre, barren space of what my little nook in the blogsphere has become can easily be compared to a blank piece of paper, or perhaps even like re-reading the same damned thing for about a gazillion times. Boring, much. But to enclose my disregard for my responsibility, I'm defending myself and saying that my absence was simply due to the fact I was patiently waiting for something worthwhile to write about, because nothing has really inspired me or evoked my creative juices lately. Until yesterday...

I still have no idea what we did or say to deserve such luck but yesterday morning, as Dad drove me to class, he'd informed me that he had received tickets - let me rephrase that: Golden Fan Tickets - to the Twin Towers Live 2012 event. Oblivious to recent happenings, I was like, "What's gonna happen there?". After filling me in with the 411 and the lowdown on what's going to take place, all it took was for him to utter "Nicole Scherzinger would be performing" to get me psyched and exited - because when she came with the Dolls in 2006/2007, exams held me back. And to cut the story short, since we had 3 Golden Fan Tickets, Prissy, Claire and I didn't let the opportunity pass us by.

There was so much I needed to grasp because I've never been to a concert before, and it being my first, and getting it for free, was a lot to take in. So, with hearts racing and excitement getting the best of us, we made our way to KLCC. When we arrived at the space where the concert was being held, it was already mad-packed with screaming, sweaty groupies - and the show hasn't even begun yet. Anyway, when we got to the entrance for those with tickets, we were treated like VIPs. Well, at least it felt that way when we were surrounded by people as we made our way through the crowd. And the next awestruck moment was when we walked the pathway to get to the stage; it felt like walking on the red carpet and having all eyes you. It's little wonder why Golden Fan Tickets cost a bomb. As we arrived pretty early, - 2 hours before the show started - our next 'lucky' moment was when we managed to stand a few feet away from the stage. It was still not quite a satisfactory place but we were close enough to snap pictures and record videos of them. Heck, we even managed to get the attention of Reshmonu and James Baum by screaming our heads off!

The lineup for the night was pretty awesome: It started with some mixes by some DJ and Prem from Fly.fm. And then, what the die-hard K-Pop fans have been waiting for, Girls Generation. After that, there was a Hip-hop performance by the champions of Showdown. Their performance was then followed by James Baum, accompanied by two other artists, Reshmonu, and some more house mixes. And last but not least, a mind-blowing, adrenaline-pumping performance by Nicole Scherzinger.

I shall stop ranting now and leave you with pictures to enjoy. Tee hee!

And videos: 

(more videos would be uploaded soon!)

And after everything, we managed to steal a shot with Mr. James Baum.

Chills in the air

It's Thursday and apart from the freedom I had yesterday to remain within the four walls of my home, today would most probably be a sequel to such liberality. It's chilly here and the morning air in this part of town is as refreshing as ever, floating together with a temporary layer of mist which would last until the sun beckons it's presence.

In the past month or so - most probably from the last time I blogged - so many events and happenings have provoked my thoughts, and the wisest thing to do as the following step would only be to pen them down. I do, I kid you not, but the time I have on my hands to spare neither allows me with hours and hours to write the way I used to nor really soak up all that I've written. So that usually leaves me hopeless and disappointed, and before I know it, I'm back to square one again. Sigh.

Anyways, I have no intention whatsoever to drown you in the pool of pity I happen to now swim in. No intention at all, but in order to make it up to you and to myself, I shall leave with this. It ain't much but it would do for now.

• Happy Valentine's Day, love-birds. I realize that it's now 16th Feb but hey, it's never too late to make everyday feel like Valentine's Day between you and your significant other. Maybe all it takes it just a little appreciation and compromise - who knows, they go a long way you know. 
• I haven't had much time to catch up on any movies or television soaps, but whenever luck is on my side, I'd make time to tune in to The Voice. Amazing talent can come in different shapes and sizes; all it takes is a whole lot of guts! 
• I really got to start pushing myself to the limits, especially when it comes to my exercise regime. I've been slacking too much and I think it's about time that I get back to my healthy eating habits and strict exercise routine. 
• PAS has been a sonofabitch, haven't they? I don't mean to go all political on yal but this issue about them being so friggin' against the celebration of Valentine's Day has been bugging me. I don't know if they have stuck their heads in their ass for ages but I believe they've forgotten that it's a union of races here in Malaysia. Hence, the 1 Malaysia campaign. And if people choose to celebrate something, even if it's not usually celebrated by their religion or whatnot, it's their choice. PAS can carry out force-movements and threats but at the end of the day, it's still going to be up to the individual and what matters is what they want. 
• I'm down with the flu and it's not getting any better. If this continues, I'd be looking like Rudolph in a matter of no time. Heh! 

I think that's about it... for now. Happy Thursday! 

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger

Young at heart and a little naive in the head I was, in the early stages of my adolescence when I attended an abstinence seminar - "No Apologies". It was a lifetime ago, or perhaps it just feels like it... but the course of time hasn't changed my mindset nor has it changed my stand towards the pledge I took regarding abstaining from sex until marriage.

It was a long marathon of teary eyes and emotional roller-coasters during the seminar, as I can recall. And the reason for it has everything to do with this video: 

Imagine being born without arms. No arms to wrap around a friend ; no hands to hold the ones you love; no fingers to experience touch ; no way to lift or carry things. How much more difficult would life be if you were living without arms and hands? Or what about legs? Imagine if instead of no arms, you had no legs. No ability to dance, walk, run, or even stand. Now put both of those scenarios together… no arms and no legs. What would you do? How would that affect your everyday life?

Meet Nick Vujicic.

And if a man without neither arms no legs can have an eternal fire burning for God and the will to carry on and live life, who are we to say that we can't.

To read more about him : Nick Vujicic

Don't be a drag, just be a queen

Patience and I don't get along so well, or shall I say, we don't make a good couple. We're an equation to disaster. However we try to work our way in this relationship to keeps things smooth-sailing, it's only the surface of our hardened hearts or perhaps even our plastered smiles that fool people into believing that we're purr-fect. But looks are deceiving, as they all say, and despite the times Patience has tricked me into thinking that good things come to those who cherish and appreciate him, I still continue to wait. To love him. To love the meaning of the word 'Patience'. Otherwise, if not for Patience, I'd be a quick-tempered, sonofabitch from hell. And we wouldn't want that now, do we?

Anyway, moving on.

What I meant by the whole paragraph above about Patience was that... well, I'm not even sure what I meant by it. All I know is that it has tested me in situations and ways I never thought possible. Like for instance, when I was caught in the rut of uncertainty if whether I'd done the right thing by listening to Dad's misguidance instead of my heart. Or perhaps, on a more precise note, the fact that the people I surround myself with neither know nor realize the beauty of being their own person, true to their heart and proud of who they are. This is when even my Tolerance is tested, being the partner in crime that goes hand-in-hand with Patience.

Just so that we're clear, I'm not trying to be all high and mighty here. I'm not proclaiming that I'm 'Original' and I'm definitely not proclaiming that I'm the best at anything and everything. But this issue about doing the exact same things I do, wearing and purchasing the exact same things I wear and have, I've been dealing with this for years now. And I'd come right out and say it to your faces that it is just so damn tiring. I'm tired of worrying if whether we'd wear the same thing at the exact same time, or that we'd both lose ourselves in the process of this 'copy-and-paste' dance routine. It's not only this, truth be told, but to cut things short, I just hate it - like HATE IT.

I'm so sick and tired of people wanting to hang out with me just to judge me from the clothes I wear right up to the things I do, and then behind my back, do and wear the exact same things. I'm not paranoid, this I know for sure because every time I encounter someone who becomes an acquaintance and in the process of time, who becomes a friend, the exact same shit goes on immediately after having settled the issue with the last nuisance.

I can't comprehend exactly how frustrating it is, knowing that the people who disguise their innocent smiles and sweet words of encouragement are those who end up hurting you and leaving you disarmed and helpless.

I don't mind if you have the same clothes as I do or buy the same things I do. But it's bullshit if you dare say that it was pure coincidence. Bullocks.

Before I began typing what has been eating at my heart for years now, I sort of prepared myself for the hatred  that may come spiraling my way. So, sue me if you're not satisfied. You know who you are, and you'd know alright if you feel offended in any way.

Just know that when you do, I probably wouldn't want to have anything associated with you. Nah uh! It may be tough but I guess this is when I'd learn to suck it up and move on. Being the two-faced you are, you didn't deserve my friendship anyway.

So long!


P.S - Please understand, I've been dealing with the same shit for years now and even if it takes all my strength and effort to get you to be your own person, whoever that may be, I'd say it and do it all over again.

Just get home safely

It's the year of the Dragon! And before I begin what I'd set out here to write, I'm choosing to not give up this rare opportunity to wish all of you sepets, oink-oink eaters, ang pow givers and every tom, dick and harry out there who would be celebrating this prosperous and blessed festival. May your homes be filled with love, joy, peace and may you be blessed with God's divine protection, good health, cheerful company, fruitful success, refreshing rest and joyful moments everyday. Peace out.

____________

Before the date was settled and passports renewed, it was an either here nor there moment as Dad contemplated on the destination for a family vacation. India was apart of the list of countries he'd initially planned for and then there came along China to take it's place. After weighing the pros and cons and all the necessary, Dad finally settled for Rome - especially since it's going to be the last time that country would be listed on the list of countries MAS flies to (only for the time being, I hope). It was also decided that it would only be Mum whom he would take along with him. In a country as romantic as Rome, with it being thousands and thousands of miles away from the three of us, it's little wonder why eh?

With both of their luggage packed and ready to spend the rest of the entire CNY week in the company of each other, they'd be leaving tonight.

People would ask me, having found out about my parents dued absence if whether we'd be okay on our own. Never really parting from my sarcastic and egoistic ways, I'd reply, "Good, let them go". I'd smile the cheeky thresher-cat smile and make the kind of hand gesture that would only mean, when translated, "Get lost!". But after what took place yesterday, I'm starting to open my eyes a little wider and look at their absence in a slightly different light.

A few hours before I hit the sheets, Dad huddled us all together as a unit and had a little family meeting. And of all things, he'd brought up the topic about his will. It would be the first time we'd be left on our own without the supervision of the two pillars which have kept our little stuffy condominium a home all these years. So that is why Dad thought it would be an appropriate time to brief us, touching on the surface of everything from safety right up to the steps we would be advised to take if, god forbid, anything were to happen to them while they spend time away.

What strummed the emotional chord and rendered great importance was when he said that if anything were to happen to them, he'd be the proudest Dad if during the eulogy at his funeral, we'd mention... I'm paraphrasing but it was something along the lines of:

1. I have been Christian my whole life.
2. I love the Lord my God with all my heart and soul.
3. I hope, with all my might, that the rest of you would accept Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior.

These are the three things he wants me to mention during his eulogy. After thinking and pondering upon the whole idea of him not being around anymore, I shook my head and tried to erase even the slightest trace of that thought altogether.

However, on a similar note, I'd like to think that they'd have a wonderful time in the comfortable and loving company of each other. I hope they get to discover new things and be amazed at things that would surprise them.

But if I had just one wish, I just wish for them to come home safely.

Old, but still young at heart

I was at the innocent age of 6 or 7 - not too sure - and in the process of growing up, when I was told of something which amazed me. We were on our way to church on a Sunday morning, and beside me sat Nanny. She was her usual self, chirpy and well-prepared with nonsensical inquiries regarding anything and everything that was mentioned during the entire journey. Inquiries or questions which weren't linked to any expectation for any answers as they were only brought up to fill in the gaps where silence crept its way in. Sort of like a cue-card thought which was just a contrivance to throw us off track so that we'd repeat ourselves and include her in the conversation. Cheeky, much. 

Along the way, Dad made a sharp turning and was on the Sungei Besi road. Seemingly more awake and alert that morning, it was the first time I bothered to look out of the window. Straight ahead on my right, slightly below the glowing white clouds that illuminated the dark sky which was slowly being dominated by lighter shades of blue, there was a lonely hangar. Airplanes, different sizes and models of airplanes were stored in there and being the thorn among the beautiful red roses, a big olive green beated- up helicopter stood out. It reminded me of the aircrafts that were summoned to war during the attack on Pearl Harbor. I ooh-ed and aah-ed and taking notice of the gleam in my eyes, Nanny told me that in her early days, she used to fly it. Being to little tell the difference between her lying and honest face, I believed her. She had the most innocent eyes, the kind of eyes children have and nothing in me could have imagined her feeling me lies - even if it was an innocent, little while lie. 

A few years later- more like a few months ago-  we passed by the hanger again when I suddenly pondered upon that little memory of what she had told me that day and retrieved it from the distant part of my brain it had been pocketed into. This time however, I started to doubt it. It was to the point where I couldn't just let it go so, taking advantage of the remaining time I had with her seated beside me, I decided to bring it up. As I ask her about the olive-green helicopter, interrogating her, I felt as if my conscience was laughing at me because after a few seconds too late, I realized how stupid it sounded. But of course - being senile but not deaf - she heard it, registered it for a while and without giving me a straight answer, she began to laugh her evil wicked-witch laugh. I knew then that she was just messing around with me, but even so, I sulked during the entire ride back home. 

This, coming from the person who taught me to always tell the truth and that even if it is a little white lie, it is still a lie, I couldn't believe it. I was disappointed and papaya-faced for the rest of the day. The 7 year-old me would have cried but the 18-year-old me just sat in the corner and kept to myself. I wondered if she would've told me the truth instead of feeding me those lies... but I then realized that it wouldn't matter either way. In this life, there are these people whom you can live without, people whom you can stay mad at and not give a damn if you ever forgive them or not. But then, on the other hand, there are also these handful of people whom you can scwabble with, have tiff after tiff and disagreement after disagreement...but at the end of the day, you'd realize that if it wasn't even your fault and if they weren't willing to apologize, you would do so anyway because you cherish the relationship more than you do your pride and ego. Nanny is one of those people in the latter category. 

I'm beginning to cherish and appreciate my grandma a little more these days, even though I know I should've started a long time ago. She's now sitting in the corner on her usual right-side of the sofa, catching the rays of sunlight that stream through the window as she leafs through the Sunday Times. I glance over to her every now and then and I think of the times I put my pride ahead of my better judgement, which lead to never-ending disagreements. I think of the times I raised my voice while trying to put my point across to her. I think of the times I shouted back at her when she was just advising me to be careful. I think and replay those horrible events and am washed over by a wave of regret. 

She's sitting only a few feet away from me and I miss her, and that's never a good way to miss someone. We haven't fought for a few weeks now and I'm beginning to believe that my Wednesdays aren't cursed after all. Nevertheless, I hope she knows I love her. After Grandpa passed away, she is the only one I have left and no matter what, there would always be a part of me that would be willing to do anything to see and make her happy. 

Swallowing my pride

There's a visibly huge gap which has been drawn in between the Internet world and myself, leaving me with never really much time to make a getaway to my little nook in the blogshere (which I often visit on a daily basis to at least draft my thoughts, if not write it out), let alone watch YouTube videos.

However, the other day, after Prissy posted this video on my Timeline (which took me a few days before I got to watching it) I managed to make time in my non-existent busy schedule to watch it and deny as I tried, I was caught up in the reality this video portrays about couples or to be more exact, two people who are in a relationship.

I never really gave much thought to the whole fight-and-make-up cycle couples go through but I know first-hand that what was going on with the couple in the video above, isn't far off from what I go through with my own unicorn. (Although, I wouldn't describe him as a unicorn because that's just weird. He is more along the lines of my Batman, or any kind of superhero who saves people from danger and no matter how many times he warns or advises to 'Be Careful' or 'Take Care', he'd still be there without a doubt.)

Him and I, we're pretty compatible. He respects my space and freedom and allows me to do whatever I want, as long as I keep the promises I've made to him regarding our relationship. He encourages me and doesn't stop me from doing the things I love to do. And even though we are miles and miles apart, there's always that 3 hours in a day I look forward to hearing his voice and to tell him every little detail of my day.

But like most couples, the times for arguments and quarrels not only existed, but prolonged as the months went by. Those times, they still do exist although not as frequent as before. Sometimes even the most littlest and stupidest things which, after moments later, would have been forgotten entirely. Come to think of it, most of the time, it's me who is to be blamed. I'd swallow my pride and admit it cause' it's the truth. More often than not, he's the one who takes up the role of the forgiver while I be the bad guy, breaking promises and his heart with the things that I mindlessly do. Thick invisible layers of hurt and anger filled the air and it was during those times when our relationship became exactly the way Josh described his relationship with Marissa:

 "We became one of those relationships where it wasn't bad, but it wasn't great. And let me tell you, that's never a good way to describe a relationship."

Things won't be turned-around immediately but there's a slight feeling of hope when by the end of the day, we put aside our different point of views, swallow our pride and apologize. Sometimes, due to human nature, we tend to take things for granted and look past the things that are important, the things that have been right in front of us all along. It's the decision we make from then on which allows us to realize how much we would rather apologize than risk the relationship with the person we love. All I know is that when it comes down to the sticky messes in our relationship, I wouldn't mind apologizing time and time again, even if it wasn't my fault (after putting up a fight, occasionally! Tee hee ), because he is worth it. He really is, and I'd rather say 'Sorry' than lose him.

And if someday the arguments and quarrels and fights gets too much for us to handle on our plates and drive us to god forbid, Stage 6: Downhill or Stage 7: Breaking up , I'd remember the time when him and I crossed paths and I'd always be thankful for that period of time. And I hope that wherever he is, he would be thankful too.

Facing the giant

I'm still pretty much dazed about the year being 2012 already. The indicator: Well, the fact that my sister graduated from high school and is now applying for jobs and going for job interviews, is enough said. It's January and she's already making space in her busy schedule to score jobs, attend education fairs, obtain her driving license, weighting and balancing out her options in the courses she wants to take up, at the collages she's narrowed down her options to.

We've been attending education fair after education fair - won't be surprised if we've attended them all - and there's never a dull moment whenever we're present because the collages she's particularly interested in always surprises us with courses that are new, interesting and so much more worth the hard work. Although, sometimes having too many options would also lead to confusion - trust me. Claire was so psyched about getting more info on the courses and wighting her options and the fees, but when it was done, there wasn't even a trace of it left.

Dad has always had our best interest at heart in everything, from our performance at school to the amount of time we put into our hobbies. Especially now, when it comes to our career and the success it would (and should) entail. There was never a moment in time when he'd ask us to stop doing what we love or enjoy, but instead, allowed us to nurture our passions. But then, there were also times when he'd think he knows best - he still thinks he does.

For instance, NOW, when Claire's in the process of finding out which course her heart is in and which career path she should take.

My sister, ever since she was in primary school, has always wanted to do something along the lines of fashion/shoe designing. She was even considering opening up her own boutique one day.
That day, at the education fair, instead of listening to my sister and taking into account what her interests are, he went ahead and decided for her. I don't have it written in black and white but I'm pretty sure Dad has painted this whole picture of my sister taking up Accounting - a subject which she and I both struggled with in school and hate heartlessly.

It was the exact way for me as well. I wanted to sing, perform, write and take up Mass Comm but instead, I ended up doing Law. And the fact that I was never good in History is proof enough that I'm struggling, at least six feet below the earth. Possibly rotting as well.

I don't think there's anything else to be said except that I wish she gets to pursue her dreams of designing shoes and clothes or whatever it is she loves to do. Because these days, raw talent is hard to come by. And coming from me, you've got to believe me when I say that she's a damn good artist. I just hope she would not let anything stand in her way from pursuing what she's passionate about, not even Dad. Not the way I did.

This reminds me of a saying, "It's better to die trying than not try at all - regardless of the outcome."

I've got hope on my side

Too many events took place in the period of time I ushered in the new year. But apart from those events and happenings, there was a long string of emotions and feelings - new and raw - I needed to make sense of. Or to simply understand. I've been putting off that task for quite some time so I think it's only fair I give it some consideration now. And besides, even if at the beginning I didn't know how, I'm willing to continue trying.

The organ in my upper-left chest, the one that keeps me alive, beats at a frantic pace. No, I'm not quoting a line from a novel but I'm being literal here. And as cliche as it sounds, it's even more real to me than I'd expected it would be. There is a lump of bile that surged into my throat and both my head and chest are aching but despite it all, I have to finish what I started.

The thing is, I'm afraid. Terrified, even. I'm completely oblivious as to what this year holds for me but I'm vouching for it to continue surprising me in it's mysterious ways. I sense that it's going to be an even harder year than compared to the last because that's what everyone keeps telling me, almost warning-like. So with buckets full of hope, I'm counting on my good friends, strength and resilience, to cut through all that "I'm afraid" bullshit to escort me through the year.

I remember how psyched I was at the beginning of the year 2011; I wrote down a long list of resolutions and patiently anticipated for the year to unfold before me. And at the end of 2011, I realized how much they were a whole load of crap because after writing down all those resolutions, I didn't bother accomplishing it but instead let them remain as mere words. Useless and meaningless. So this year, I decided not to set any resolutions to spare my heart and time.

However, I have gathered a handful of things I'd like to improve on or work at, seeing as the burden of sticking to resolutions has been lifted of my shoulders.

• Be more patient and understanding towards Nanny. I've got to understand that age is catching up on her and with that, comes the thief of hearing, sight and patience. And I've got to watch the tone in my voice, the words I speak and the language I use because sometimes, over the littlest things, her feelings might get hurt. 
• Being more careful and wise in the way I spend my money. I've got the differentiate between what I want and what I need and not mix the both together. Note to self: Money and material things don't and can't bring us a lifetime of happiness. So, it doesn't matter if I have the latest clothes or am following the latest trends, or that I have most of the things other people don't, because in the end, they all don't really matter. And that's a fact. 
• Being honest. I've got to appreciate the people in my life whom try their level best to protect and keep me safe. Especially my Dad. I've got to learn to tell him the truth about where I am going, who I'm going with and whatnot. This includes other things and other people as well. Because sometimes, honesty is the best policy. 
• Work harder, no more slacking. Taking into account my poor performance in my Cambridge A-levels exam explains enough of how much effort I'd put in to get those results. The fact that I'm still doubtful and uncertain is proof enough. So, instead of following my lecturer's teaching pace, I've gotta be one step ahead. Or at least, I've gotta try. 
• Try new things. I've gotta stop being so damn safe all the time and do stuff that I might regret later, would not be proud of in the years to come and might never do again... and have peace in knowing that there would be lessons learnt. 

+

• Treat people the what I'd like to be treated in return (as someone pointed it out). Whoever you are, I apologize. I'm not trying to defend my behavior or anything but sometimes, when you try so hard to not be a certain kind of way, you turn out to be exactly that. So, I'm sorry for being inconsiderate, for being judgmental, for being a snob, for being a downright bitch. Whoever you are, this is for you. 

There might be more of this but that is all for now. I've gotta go study. Goodnight! 

A diary for such an occasion

I've never really trusted myself with keeping diaries, in terms of keeping it safe as well as having the discipline and devotion to write in it everyday.

I do this at the beginning of every year; I'd find a diary or an empty notebook, which has a pretty cover and immediately write my name on the first page so that no one else takes it. At the bottom, I'd end with my signature and my contact info in case it gets misplaced.

In the days that follow, the first few pages would have something written on it. I'd pen down my thoughts, dreams or random sparks of ideas that cross my mind.

A week or two goes by and the next thing I know, it has been placed on a shelf with the other books/diaries I never read/write in. Or worst still, I lose it.

However, when I gave this keeping-a-diary thing a go at the beginning of last year, I made sure I wrote in it everyday or whenever I could and on New Year's Eve, I wrote on the last page.

Today, since it's the beginning of a new year yet again, I rediscovered an empty journal, ripped open it's plastic seal and wrote on it's first page.

This year, I'm giving this whole keeping-a-diary thing a go once again because after last year, I believe in myself - I also believe that when I want to do something, and if I keep at it everyday, it becomes possible.

Farewell 2011, you were pretty good to me

1 year, 12 months, 365 days, and 52 weeks – that’s as far as I can go – would be coming to an end in a few more days and as I do so every year, I’d like to take the time to sit in my usual spot, at the usual time of day and with my own usual self, to do this year some justice and dedicate to it a journal entry. This year has brought about a variety (and also a mixture) of the good, the bad, the memorable, the heartbreaking, the unforgettable, the moments that changed one’s life, tragedies and everything along those lines. But if I’m being truly honest, I’d quote a paragraph from The Notebook and say that, “This year has most resembled a blue-chip stock: fairly stable, more ups than downs, and gradually trending upward over time. A good buy, a lucky buy and not everyone can say this about his life.” In more ways than some, this year hasn’t even been the rip-roaring spectacular I’d hoped and fancied it would be but that’s okay, because whatever has happened in the course of this one year has been more than aplenty.

What a journey it has been and to do this year a little more justice before the year comes to a close, I decided to acknowledge and reminisce on the events and happenings or the little things that happened within this year and to appreciate every single thing while I can. I doubt I can remember everything but at the same time, I’m pretty sure that my memory didn’t let me down. So, here goes:

_____________

This year, I...

I got selected for National Service.

Fell in love.

Received my first love-letter.

Made an impact in someone’s life.

Guided and helped someone to quit smoking.

Was – and still am – in a relationship with someone for more than 10 months.

Failed my undang-undang (computer test) 3 times, and in the end, passed on the 4^th time.

Passed and received my driving license.

Did a cover, which was a hit, and was finally satisfied with it.

Lost touch with a handful of people who meant a lot to me. 

Moved out of my parent’s home and moved in with my grandma.

Have been doing more housework now than I did when I was living with my parents.

Accepting and taking on new responsibilities.

Have been Google-ing and trying to learn how to cook.

Baked my first and second batch of cupcakes.

Sneakily went up to the highest floor of the Hilton hotel to enjoy the amazing view with a special someone.

Witnessed 4 deaths – Uncle Charles (friend), Manisah (my maid), Uncle Artie and Aunt Esther (Granduncle and grandaunt).

Found out that Grandpa had an elder brother which was given away at birth.

Heard someone, apparently my long-lost relative, came knocking on my grandparent’s door, looking all bruised and dishevelled and asking for money. Long story short, he’s an asshole.

Wrote long-winded letters just for the sake of it.

Dedicated songs, photos, poems, and lyrics to someone I love.

Met and was introduced to my boyfriend’s parents and his aunt.

Tasted shisha for the first (and last) time.

Sat for the Cambridge A-levels Examination.

Got my own room, furniture, and wardrobe for the first time after 18 years.

Studied my ass off and worked as hard as a donkey.

Lost myself and lost touch with the things I loved doing for a period of time.

Lied to my parent, and got away with it.

Lied and got caught.

Broke way too many promises.

Broke the heart of the man I love, way too many times.

Visited an Orang Asli settlement at Ulu Langat.

Sang carols at an old-folks home and fellowshipped with them.

Watched more than 20 movies in the cinema, in good company.

Spent time in an abandoned, eerie, quiet place.

Babysat my cousin, no matter how annoying they were.

Received the green light from Dad and Aunt Sharon to drive their car – under supervision, of course.

Worked at the Swedish Embassy.

Was hired to be the event assistant.

Attended a prestigious event – The Sweden-Malaysia Gala Dinner.

Met and took a picture with Datuk Jimmy Choo, Datul Sheikh Muzaffar and Jojo Struys.

Songled and performed in front of a large audience.

Did stuff I wasn’t proud of.

Took part in an amazing race, called the Amazing Grace.

Tried to learn how to play the guitar, but gave up too easily.

Entertained people who used me and walked all over me.

Experienced a point in time where I didn’t even know who my best friends were anymore.

Saw a shooting star.

Got to make a wish on 11.11.2011.

Lost friends who didn’t make any effort to stay in my life.

Lost ‘things’ I vowed to keep as a little girl.

Had my first water park experience in Kuantan, Bukit Gambang Waterpark resort.

___________

I'm sure there are many more but since I only have my memory to depend on, I have no choice but to end it here.

For everything I've been through, experienced, done, witnessed... I'm grateful and very much appreciative. As a whole, 2011 was a good year. Although I didn't manage to strike off all of the resolutions which were set at the beginning of the year, I'm hoping that the next year would be more promising in those aspects. Heck, I might even get to strike them all of my resolutions list this time - who knows? But before we start doing any planning, let's just hope and pray that the year doesn't come to an end on 2012, cause' that would be such a pity.

Anyways, Happy New Year world!

Alone this Christmas night

This song is my favourite Christmas Carol of all-time, thus far. I'm not kidding when I say that Christmas Carols, when played according to the original keys, aren't the most easiest pieces to sing. They strain your voice and leave you with either a sore throat of a major case of throat-dehydration. But when they are transposed to suit the singers rage of vocals, the final result would leave you in awe.

I've been YouTube-ing for covers of this song and I stumbled upon the cover Christina Grimmie did, and I think she did a pretty good job.

Forty-five minutes to go before Christmas comes to an end. But before it does, I hope everyone is making the most of their night - unlike me; sitting alone downstairs, in a corner, and blogging. Heh.

O Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Saviour's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining.
Till He appeared and the Spirit felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
O night divine, the night when Christ was born;
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!

Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.
O'er the world a star is sweetly gleaming,
Now come the wisemen from out of the Orient land.
The King of kings lay thus lowly manger;
In all our trials born to be our friends.
He knows our need, our weakness is no stranger,
Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!
Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!

Truly He taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.
And in his name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
With all our hearts we praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,
His power and glory ever more proclaim!
His power and glory ever more proclaim!

____________

That is all I wish for

Sore feet: check. Tired limbs: check. Brought my broke ass home: check.

Before I set out to the heart of the city with Prissy today, I made a mental list to myself, expecting that what I just checked off the list was bound to happen. And as expected, it did. All I want to do now is to give in to sleep and just lay in bed, but I can’t. I’m fighting to keep my eyes open as I type because I have this feeling in my gut that tells me that I might not get another time or day to speak my mind the way I now can.

I’ve been embracing the Christmas spirit to its fullest. In between shopping for Christmas gifts and giving in to generous discounts, I’ve been fighting for some time to myself, some time in my own space. Sometimes, even though there's nothing on my agenda to do, it's nice to get away from the crowd, to get away from all the hustle and bustle and just be alone. 

Now that I have, I should probably come right out and say what my mind has been pondering on for quite some time now. Parallel to carefully selecting and purchasing Christmas gifts for the people in my life, I have also managed to sit back and give some taught to what I'd like for Christmas. 

To celebrate and make the most of my pathetic three weeks of Semester break, I released myself from the confines of my own home and bombarded the shopping malls, like ghosts during the Hungry Ghost Festival, where there's lots and lots of food which have been given up to them as offerings. The fact that Christmas is just around the corner made it even more of a reason to splurge. 

I bought myself a Christmas outfit; an Audrey Hepburn-inspired classic white dress, a pair of black peep-toe pumps, a boho beach bag, tons and tons of accessories. Other than the things I bought for Christmas, there are also the several outfits I've splurged on because it seemed like the right thing to do when there are all these SALE signs everywhere. With everything I now have, it still isn't what I want for Christmas. I think I realized that when the thrill and excitement of buying those new things diminished a few moments after I got home.

This Christmas, I want: People; who would be true to themselves and be strong and confident in their own skin. I want them to find their true self in what they love, and not in other people. I want someone I can talk to about anything and everything, someone I can call my 'best friend' as that role is still vacant. Experience; a long list of them. I want to do things I've never done before, things worth doing for the first time. I want to do things that go against the law, that would get me into trouble. I want to do things that require buckets full of courage. Memories; lots and lots of them. I want to remember the good and the bad. I want to remember the pages turned, the bridges burned. I want to remember the heartbreaks, the loneliness, the crushes... everything that made me into the person I am today. 

And if I'm being blatantly honest, what I really want for Christmas is a hand-written letter. A letter which has been well-thought, well-written and which is specially for me. I love writing and receiving letters but due to the advancement in technology, no one ever does the whole writing-a-letter thing anymore, especially those which would end up bring 3-4 pages long. And the fact that it is so rare and since I haven't received any for quite some time now, makes me want it even more. 

So yes, that is my Christmas wish this year. 

Image via Cherrybam

Jingle bells and holly

It’s already the week of Christmas but it feels like I’m only beginning to adapt to the changes and challenges this month of December has brought along. Or is it always this way for everyone during the month of December? Well, for me, every year has its significant rollercoaster of emotions, especially when the year of 2011 is about to come to a close while it awaits the dawn of the year 2012 to arrive.

I’ve been hitting the streets of KL quite often this month and there’s always a pleasant tingling feeling of joy and eagerness that washes over me as I stand a few feet away from the entrance of malls before my feet gets restless and prompts me to walk inside.

Christmas happens to be the most decorated time of the year, apart from Chinese New Year. Humongous Christmas trees would be decorated with the most brightly coloured ornaments, with presents laid underneath. Jingle bells ringing here and there. Choirs singing cheerfully to Christmas carols. Santa would be seated at his big red armchair while little children queue up with their parents, so full of eagerness to get a chance to sit on Santa’s lap. The generic “Have you been Naughty or Nice?” question would be asked which would be followed by a long list of Nice, considering how persuasive the children were in making Santa believe. Along the streets, there’d be big, bold, colourful lights and long, shiny streamers. Sometimes, when lucky enough, there’d be a big replica of Santa’s sleigh along with his reindeers in front. And to top it off – I bet all the ladies would agree – there would always be a massive SALE which takes place EVERYWHERE! (the sole reason for my frequent visits to the malls)

When I enter malls during this season, I can’t help but be awed by how amazing everything looks. I also can’t help but be amazed at how immediately cheerful everyone becomes during this time of year. But then, when I’m ready, I gather the courage to take a step backwards and try to look beyond the material things I see before my eyes.

I then recognise that it is not just about how beautifully decorated the Christmas trees are or whether the lights are twinkling brightly enough. It’s not even about the expensive presents we receive and neither is it about whether Santa categorises us in the Naughty or Nice list. It’s so much more than that – it’s CHRISTMAS. It is the day our Lord Jesus Christ was born. And for that alone, I’m thankful enough.

Even so, there won’t be much of a celebration in my family this year. Due to the passing away of the late Uncle Artie and Aunty Esther, the spirit of Christmas has been slightly ceased from the hearts of the remaining Pharamonds. Nanny decided that she won’t be doing anything over-the-top this year, so there won’t be a Christmas party. Alongside the decision to not throw a Christmas party, there was also no putting up of the Christmas tree as well as the mailing of Christmas cards to relatives and friends. Apparently, it is a sign of respect, so I’ve been told.

On a less sentimental note, the highlight of this month (up to date) would most definitely be acing my JPJ driving test.  If you knew how long it has been since I sat for my Undang- undang test, how long I’ve prolonged attending my driving classes and how it long it took me to gather the confidence to go for my JPJ test, you’d probably say that it was about time. While everyone else received their P licence, I was left way behind as I haven’t even completed the hours of my driving classes. And then on the 13^th of December, I just did it. I’m just grateful that I didn’t have to redo anything, the way I did with my undang-undang test – I failed 3 times, to be exact. I now have to work on my confidence when I drive because I bet even a blind would recognise the obvious fear that is within me. I’m starting to doubt if it would ever go away.

Apart from that, the shopping for Christmas gifts has gone a little haywire. I had such a hard time deciding on what to buy as Christmas gifts, so unsure of whether they’d like what I chose for them.  It was as if I was sitting for a test on how well I truly know the people in my life. And sometimes, I doubt that I do – not so much, at least.  It’s was so much easier to shop for myself than to shop for Christmas gifts because sometimes regardless of how well you really know them and know what they like, I seem to be running out of ideas as each year passes by. I mean, when you want to buy something they need, God only knows because they seem to have everything already. And then when you opt to buy something they want, you’re then torn between the question of whether they’d love it or whether it fulfils your money’s worth.

The older I get, I’m gradually realizing that things become lesser about the places I go and the things I have, and more about the people I have in my life to share those little moments with. In a television segment, Oprah told her millions of viewers that based on research, it was proven that if you give someone things as gifts, it would only be valued for a period of 9 months. But if you give someone an experience, they’d remember it for the rest of their lives.

Although I won’t be celebrating Christmas this year, doesn’t mean the rest of the world shouldn’t. So this Christmas, instead of hoping for the things you’d want as gifts, I hope you’d receive an experience you’d remember and cherish for the rest of your lives.

Blessed Christmas everyone!

Above the clouds

Just when I was about to find closure in the number of misfortunes that have taken place in the period of this year alone, fate made a U-turn and each and every one of my family members’ were in for a shock of their lives.

Yesterday on a Wednesday afternoon, under harsh sunlight, the life of my granduncle (my grandma’s elder brother; Uncle Artie) was robbed when just a little acceleration on the reverse gear lead to him being rammed by a trailer. He was in the driving seat, of course, with his wife by his side and his son and daughter-in-law at the backseat. The four of them set off to go to Putrajaya to settle some legal documents which would entitle them to benefits that were especially for his son and daughter-in-law, both of whom are hearing-impaired. The whole scenario of the four of them being in the same car together sounded a tad too fishy for me because first of all, they weren’t on good terms , Uncle Artie and his son and two, it has everything to do with Uncle Artie’s daughter-in-law. You see, the both of them despised each other and for what reason... only God knows. And besides, it all seems too much like the Bold and Beautiful soap drama that come to think of it, I’d rather not poke my nose in any further than it already is. However, if I may say so, despite the hatred and tension that was in the air when Uncle Artie and his daughter-in-law were under the same roof, Uncle Artie put it behind him and was able to be a father to his son when he needed help. Heck, the man should be given some credit for the good deed he did, even if that good deed was done a few hours before his life was taken away. To say the least, he left in peace. That much we are sure of.

Today, as I didn’t have anything on my agenda, I decided to tag along with Nanny, Grandaunt Dolly, Uncle Bush and Felix to the Putrajaya Hospital. I don’t know what my intensions were, tagging along, because instead of feeling the need to see if Aunt Esther, Jeffrey and his wife were okay, I was hesitant even about stepping foot into the ICU. I don’t like hospitals and neither have I given it much thought to disking them. It’s just that maybe it has been awhile since I ever step foot in one, the last time being about 4 years ago when my Grandpa was admitted in the General Hospital.

This time, I didn’t feel so overwhelmed with emotion nor was I anxious to see if everything was going to be just fine. I didn’t feel the same, although everything else was. There were people occupying every vacant seat in the waiting area, swarming like bees when someone got up for a minute to most probably take a leak; families waiting anxiously for more news about their loved ones; restless children whom were either running around or pulling at their parent’s shirts to attend to them. The sterilized odour every hospital had was the same and so was the disgustingly cold cafeteria food hospitals often had. The only thing that was different was the person lying down on the hospital bed with a tube in her nose and the relationship I had with her. She was Aunty Esther. She is not my grandmother nor is she apart of my intermediate family; she’s the second wife to my late Granduncle Artie – I secretly hope this justifies my undeveloped closeness toward her.

While everyone else rushed impatiently – rushed meaning, walked faster than the slow pace they’d usually walk at – I excused myself from the crowd of them and buried my face in a book at a dark corner of the waiting room. I didn’t want to go in; I wouldn’t know what to say anyway. So I hid away. Being elderly, they now have an additional tape-recorder characteristic that came along with their coming of age. They broke the record for the number of times they questioned each other about the whole incident, from ‘How did it all happen?’ to ‘What was the race of the driver who drove the trailer?’ It was endless I tell you. I was hoping that it would end by the time we got in the car to head back home but I should have known better.

Before we left to be on our way home, they insisted on making one last important stop – the mortuary. In an instant, I remembered the CSI crime lab where they had a scene in a mortuary but when I entered, it was not as gloomy, dim, or eerie as what we usually see on television. This morgue was brightly lit, however the only creepiness there was the absence of the staff. For a moment, we let our conscience be our guide as we followed the signage on the doors but as our conscience was slowly disappointing us, the staff appeared out of nowhere, helpfully acquiesced to our request to see the body of Granduncle Artie. Once again, like before, as they stood around the 4°C body, I stood away. Even as I stood away at an exceptional distance, I saw enough. There were blood stains blotching up the white cloth that wrapped him; his head was stitched up; and on the left side of his face, it looked like someone had punched him and all the blood vessels had exploded at the same time.

It was so awkward to see him in such a state – a bloody mess, defeated, still, cold, silent – simply because the last I remember seeing him was during a family gathering where he had barged him smiling like a man on a mission. And I hope to always remember him that way.

______________

9/12/11

I hopped into the Frontier when Dad came to pick me up after class and upon updating him about tomorrow’s itinerary – I told him I wasn’t attending the funeral – he’d told me that a few hours ago, in the morning, Granduncle Artie’s wife, Aunt Esther, too, had breathed her last breath.  So seeing as I would not be able to attend the funeral the following day, I decided to come along with them to the wake service.

To be placed side-by-side, Aunt Esther’s coffin arrived shortly later in the evening as the caretakers came, did the necessary, and left. While waiting in line to see the coffins, I was pretty calm and composed... until I set my eyes on the children whose parents were now in both of the coffins before me. Although, they can’t be called ‘children’ anymore – all three married with each a family of their own. But I guess it doesn’t really matter if they were or not, because at the end of the day, they’d have to deal with it... albeit at a snail’s pace.

We leafed through a variety of newspapers as well as scrolled through news’ online websites for articles about the incident and on the Ntv7 website, the headline was ‘Family of four cheats death’. They most probably jinxed it because they only cheated by about a few minutes. In the end, death won the battle and two lives were taken from us. To Nanny, this is all too tragic for her to comprehend and deal with but to Daddy, he saw it as a blessing in disguise. You see, everywhere that man went, she was always a few steps behind him, always never too far from his reach. Even if Aunt Esther had survived – her condition improved and she managed to escape from any post-accident trauma – she would not have been able to carry on surviving without Granduncle Artie.

They were the ultimate couple any marriage would opt for, even after eons of being married to each other. And if they can’t be with us physically, at least they’d still have the rest of their lives to be together up there above the clouds.

R.I.P Uncle Artie and Aunt Esther. The both of you would be missed dearly. Love.

For the article about the incident, click here:  Family of Four Cheats Death.