There’s little doubt that the best surprises are those that bring about an episodical happiness. The kind of surprises which are totally unexpected that one could not help but grin from ear to ear upon receiving them despite not feeling all that happy. An episodical happiness was what I experienced last Sunday.
Empty was the state I found my home in upon return from KLIA (with a detour to Putrajaya to get my car which was parked at my uncle’s place) since Mak and Ayah went visiting my aunts in Johor, and Abang, my younger brother, is seldom back home before midnight.
Baghdad, our dear cat was mewing at the front door, gesturing his hunger. Upon realising his plight for food, Baghdad’s mewing was joined by a chorus of other mewing by his sister Comel and Comel’s kittens – Basrah, Najaf and Fellujah. Kept them away from the front entrance and quickly brought in my luggage. Went to the kitchen to check the cat’s bowl, filled the two bowls with their food and opened the kitchen door to let them in. Played with the cats for a while, letting the kittens to be more familiar with me. 18- months old Baghdad and Comel are already familiar with everbody at home, but the same could not be said about the 3-months-old kittens. Among the three, sleek, all-black Fellujah is the least manja. (Note to self: Must pet and play with Fellujah more from now on…)
Unpacked the bag. Put all the dirty laundry in the laundry basket. Got all the keropok and air pencicah out of the bag. Kept the tapai in the fridge. Searched for something to eat in the fridge. Fruitless search led me to finally having a plate of Indomie goreng.
Wandered when Mak and Ayah would return from Johor while slowly consuming my instant noodle. Got the cats out of the house, took a look around the house to make sure that all doors and windows were securely locked. Thought to myself that it wouldn’t be too bad to be home alone as I could watch the recorded recent episodes of Jake 2.0, One Tree Hill and Gilmore Girls (re-run) undisturbed.
Opened my door, immediately noticed a parcel lying on my bed. Quickly switched on the lights and grabbed the brown parcel addressed to me, posted from Seremban.
I saw the Ujanailmu rubber stamp mark on the parcel and instantly felt a surge of happiness. I grinned as I tore the parcel open.
When I found out on artakus.net last week that Kota Arialun, the second book in Saga Artakusiad series could still be purchased online via Ujanailmu, I immediately made my order of it, along with a copy of Legenda Numerius, the latest Saga Artakusiad book. Since online purchases usually mean waiting for two weeks before the goods get delivered, it goes without saying that I was absolutely delighted to receive both books less than a week after I made my purchase.
Both books were individually wrapped, with a layer of bubble wrap surrounding them. The copy of Kota Arialun I received was not in mint condition, the cover had some whitish spots. Well, it was fine by me – so long as I get a copy of the book, that’s what matter most. Besides, the book had been over a decade old. But wait a minute – it is a part of the second print in 1992, not the first print of 1988. Apparently, Saga Artakusiad’s earlier books were reprinted after all. (Duh, well, okay, so I stand corrected…)
I thought I saw some scribble on the front page, so I took a closer look at it – oh my… The book was personally autographed by the author Ahmad Patria! Yokatta! That more than made up for the book’s substandard condition
I moved my attention to my own personal copy of Legenda Numerius. It was not autographed, but that’s okay. I did not expect it anyway, though it would have definitely been a bonus if it was autographed too.
My earlier plan was dismissed. Instead, I started reading Legenda Numerius (LN) right away. However, after a couple of days of staying awake late, I was too tired to read much, and fell asleep right after I programmed my video recorder to record the latest episode of The O.C.
I’m still reading it – just finished Chapter 03. Will come up with a review soon, insya Allah.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
Monday, August 16, 2004
Three New Things
(for me, at least) … that I'd discovered in Kelantan last week. (I’ve only been to Kelantan three times so far – once in 1988, once in 1996 and last week in 2004… I just noticed the 8-year-interval during my recent trip though.)
1. Colourful telur dadar.
When Jue’s Majlis Khatam Quran was over, the makcik-makcik who took part in it each got to take back home a brown envelope containing some sedekah and a container filled with pulut kuning topped with telur dadar. Not a slice of the normal yellow omelette, but rather colourful thin long shreds of omelette, which reminded me of Chinese yee sang. One makcik invited me to try it. I did and thought that while the green or red stripes of fried egg did not taste that much different from the original yellow ones, they sure looked much more interesting!
2. Akok
I’ve heard of Akok (that special, rather limpy kuih made from mostly duck’s eggs) long ago. Now, I can testify that I kind of like it, provided it’s not too sweet. There was one stall in Salor, Pasir Mas which specialised on making just this kuih every morning and afternoon. So tasteful the Akok Salor that people often buy it in dozens rather than spending a mere ‘riyal’ (ringgit) or two. Jue’s wedding guests were lucky to be treated to this famous Akok Salor as dessert. To my delight, I discovered that there’s another version of not-too-sweet Akok – Akok Berlauk. Why it’s named Akok Berlauk beats me as I thought it resembles more a bahulu than an Akok with savoury fillings akin to beef serunding. Nice!
3. Kuih Semar
Jue bought two packets of this interesting kuih for me to take home (along with lots of keropok, air pencicah, buah salak and tapai pulut). A packet consisted of eight individually wrapped kuih semar made from lots of sugar and sagun. One must not, I repeat, MUST NOT open his or her mouth while chewing on a semar or else the sagun will scatter all over the place. Semars are often found in red or green outer layer of sort-of-crystallized sugar with white centre (sagun). Intriguing!
The essence of true friendship...
They said that our character is a reflection of the friends we keep.
As I began to think of my closest friends, I found that while we share some traits, or believe in similar principles or have common goals – I can’t quite pinpoint similar characters.
Ira who shares my liking for novels and Japanese drama is rather quiet and serious in nature, yet I am playful and could talk on and on about on and on…
Jue who apparently shared my childhood favorite dish of fried ikan kembong and kicap is an immaculate dresser and fuss about the smallest details, yet I am a simple dresser and had never sweat about small stuff…
Tan who shares my appreciation of Japanese food often considerately weighs the pros and cons of her next move, yet I prefer to take a day at a time and rather impulsive in nature.
There’s Aidil, my ex-schoolmate who’s my total opposite – prim and proper, gentle and alim – as opposed to mischievous and full-of-hoo-ha’s me. Our friendship is still going strong after over sixteen years of knowing each other.
There are Juz and Nita – two most pleasing and gentle friends I’ve ever known – yet ‘gentle’ would be one of the last adjectives anybody would use to describe me.
There are Masni, another ex-schoolmate and Yam, Masni’s best friend who are total opposites in time management and I would be some kind of a bridge between the two of them in that regards.
There’s Kal, my next-cubicle neighbour in my old office who could be the most patient officer in dealing with an extremely difficult boss, where as I’d never made it a secret that I disapproved of that particular superior.
There are others I missed mentioning here, who have a lot in differences (rather than in common) with me yet I consider them my trusty confidants and reliable friends.
I guess who ever that claimed that the essence of true friendship is to make allowances for one another's little lapses could not be that far from the truth.
As I began to think of my closest friends, I found that while we share some traits, or believe in similar principles or have common goals – I can’t quite pinpoint similar characters.
Ira who shares my liking for novels and Japanese drama is rather quiet and serious in nature, yet I am playful and could talk on and on about on and on…
Jue who apparently shared my childhood favorite dish of fried ikan kembong and kicap is an immaculate dresser and fuss about the smallest details, yet I am a simple dresser and had never sweat about small stuff…
Tan who shares my appreciation of Japanese food often considerately weighs the pros and cons of her next move, yet I prefer to take a day at a time and rather impulsive in nature.
There’s Aidil, my ex-schoolmate who’s my total opposite – prim and proper, gentle and alim – as opposed to mischievous and full-of-hoo-ha’s me. Our friendship is still going strong after over sixteen years of knowing each other.
There are Juz and Nita – two most pleasing and gentle friends I’ve ever known – yet ‘gentle’ would be one of the last adjectives anybody would use to describe me.
There are Masni, another ex-schoolmate and Yam, Masni’s best friend who are total opposites in time management and I would be some kind of a bridge between the two of them in that regards.
There’s Kal, my next-cubicle neighbour in my old office who could be the most patient officer in dealing with an extremely difficult boss, where as I’d never made it a secret that I disapproved of that particular superior.
There are others I missed mentioning here, who have a lot in differences (rather than in common) with me yet I consider them my trusty confidants and reliable friends.
I guess who ever that claimed that the essence of true friendship is to make allowances for one another's little lapses could not be that far from the truth.
Thursday, August 12, 2004
The Inevitable Question
I’ll be going to Kota Bharu tonight insya Allah – just to be there for Jue as she is to be married tomorrow night, with the kenduri (reception) on Saturday. Jue have asked me to be her pengapit – the Malay version of bridesmaid - a long time ago. Hence, I’ve taken extra care to make sure that I won’t be held up by other obligations this weekend.
I have read somewhere that 80% of weddings all over the year occur between May and October. Well, in Malaysia however, it almost seems like 80% of weddings occur during school holidays. Jue’s kenduri will be held this weekend – but the groom’s reception will be next week, as school kids begin their one-week break. Jue have also asked me to be her pengapit during the groom’s kenduri next week.
This won’t be my first time as a pengapit, since I have experienced being a bidan terjun (last minute) pengapit before. Like western bridesmaid, a pengapit’s first duty is to complement and enhance the star of the show – the Bride. However, unlike western wedding that allows for a few bridesmaids – there’s only one pengapit for a Malay bride. Although a pengapit is rarely asked to plan and organize a bridal shower, she has to be with the Bride at all times during the whole ordeal – to calm the Bride’s nerves just before she’s pronounced as a wife (for some reasons or other – most of my friends always shed a tear or two just before the akad nikah), to be alert for the Tok Kadhi’s signal to take the Bride out from her room during the akad nikah session, to ensure that the Bride doesn’t move too fast to meet up the groom and hold his hands for the first time as husband and wife before the procession begins, to ensure that the Bride’s make-up is intact before, during and right after the bersanding (without the tepung tawar & what nots – more and more Malays are having the pelamin merely for photo shooting purposes), to organise the Bride for photo sessions, and the list goes on and on and on.
It’s common that the pengapit chooses her own dress, (perhaps to spare her from humiliating herself in a bad dress - at least the Mat Salleh bridesmaids get to wear bad dresses in a group…), but the bride will advise her on what to wear. In Jue’s case she has asked me to wear yellow, so that it’ll nicely match the baju melayu that will be worn by the groom’s pengapit (best man). Jue even took the fuss of making sure that her groom-to-be picked someone about my height to be his pengapit.
Thus, I bought some materials that I thought would meet Jue’s approval. Unlike me, Jue is an immaculate dresser, and I have no intention for her to complain later on that her wedding photos are put down by the presence of an ill-fitting, undistinguished baju pengapit. I seeked her opinion before sending the materials to my tailor and finally settled on having my material to be turned into a pair of long dress with a matching kebaya.
So, I’m basically prepared. I have a fair knowledge of what’s to be expected from a pengapit. I already bought a nice baju pengapit on my own. Got the plane tickets ready on my own. Bought two wedding gifts on my own. Yes, two – because I like giving something ‘extra’ for my girlfriends (that must be opened in private) in addition to the ‘normal’ publicly accepted gift.
Now, time to embrace myself and prepare to navigate intrusive questioning by ‘well-meaning’ strangers - on my own.
Well, I would normally join some other girlfriends to weddings or just bring along one of my young cousins as my company. The girls just relish the idea of dressing up, getting some nice bunga telur and a chance of meeting a bride. The chosen girl I picked to accompany me would return home to share with her sisters and other female cousins her experience of meeting ‘that gorgeous bride’. It’s a girl’s thing I supposed – one of the things I’ve missed on when I was a little girl since I grew up among brothers and male cousins.
Jue’s wedding will be the first that I’ll attend all on my own – another friend has promised to attend it, but she won’t be there throughout the whole akad nikah and kenduri sessions. Although I’ve met one of Jue’s sister once, and have no doubt that I can get along with the rest of the family well, I must confess that I’m not too keen to be subjected to some intrusive questioning. And I know that they are coming, maybe not from Jue’s immediate family members. But chances are, one way or another, I’ll meet some makcik-makcik who could not hold their tongues from asking that question…
Imagine - there I’ll be, attending to Jue’s needs. Getting a glass of water or passing some tissues to wipe the sweat away, making small talk to comfort her and one or the other makcik will come in the room to comment on how beautiful and how radiant the bride look. How they remember seeing Jue when she was still in diapers and look at her now – all grown up and getting married! How wonderful! They’ll embrace her while congratulating and wishing her all the best.
Then - they’ll turn their attention to me - “Ni kawan Jue?”
I’ll smile politely and nod my head.
“Dah kahwin?”
“Belum”
“Bila lagi?”
Grrr…. The answers vary according to my mood.
A few understanding makcik-makcik will stop at that.
But some could not help themselves from prodding further; they will ask whether I’m seeing anyone yet (they always have to throw in the yet). And they will go on to talk about the pros of getting married and raising a family while one is still young and all the 1001 reasons on why one should not wait too long to settle down.
And there I’ll be – nodding my head zombie-like and smiling a chalky smile, half listening and half thinking – of all the things I would love to say but won’t - in response to their statements.
I am happy to be there for Jue – to lend some support and to share a poignant moment in her life. I just hope I won’t have many encounters with such makcik-makcik that can make me feel of killing somebody – preferably the person asking stupid questions and imparting unwanted ‘well-meaning’ advice.
Any tips on how to handle such makcik effectively?
(Note: I'll return on Monday insya Allah. Till then, have a nice day everyday, everybody.)
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Two notes...
Sunday saw me receiving two touching notes.
On early Sunday morning I sent a text message to Laila, my long time buddy - “Happy birthday and may Allah bless you always”.
I used to call up my friends on the morning of their birthday – sometimes to recite a poem, at other times, to sing altered versions of “Happy Birthday”, or simply to wish many happy returns. Nowadays, I just resort to mostly text messages, or sometimes, picture messages, to convey my wishes.
And it wasn't a big deal. After all, I’ve remembered Laila’s birthday since forever – her birth date would be considered as extremely lucky by many Chinese and Japanese; the 8th day of the 8th month.
I did not expect Laila to be so touched by the fact that an old friend actually remembered to wish her happy birthday. Laila’s reply though left no doubt that she was indeed very pleased –
“Tq so much for being such a compassionate friend… May Allah bless u 2!”
Imagine the surprise of being called a “compassionate friend” due to a simple birthday text message…
####
I reached home that Sunday evening at about six after a long, tiring over-three-hours journey by bus. Saw a piece of white paper on my bed, and it read:
“Kak,
Mak Tam was here. Pinjam your telekung. TQ.
(Signed)
P/S: Long time no see”
Mak Tam is my auntie by marriage. Ayah’s younger brother, Ayah Tam married her when I was about 8 years old. Among all my aunts, I’ve always been closest to Mak Tam – a high school teacher who could listen well and disperse some great advice.
Since Tok, my paternal grandma, was diagnosed with alzheimer a few years ago (in addition to her diabetes and heart problem) she has been moving from one place to another, staying with her children in some rotation arrangement. Most of the time though, she would be staying with my family, since Ayah as the eldest in the family, feels he should take extra responsibility in taking care of Tok. Otherwise, Tok could often be found staying with my auntie Nyah in Bangi or Ayah Tam in Sungai Buloh.
Whenever Tok is in Sungai Buloh, “tengok Tok” would be the perfect excuse for me to hang out at Ayah Tam’s place and spend time with Mak Tam and my cousins. I shared my latest adventures (or misadventures), showed her the latest photos, ranted about this and that - basically updating her with what's the latest in my life. In fact, Mak Tam has always been my main confidant in the family – I only began to confide more in Mak since she began her retirement last year. Prior to that, Mak Tam probably knew a lot more of the latest happenings in my life than my own mother did.
Anyway, the "long time no see" part is true, it has been a while since I last saw her. Three of her children will be sitting for major exams this year – and all of them had to be cajoled into studying. They will only do some serious studying and revision when Mak Tam is around, so unless it’s absolutely necessary, I tried not to go visit (more like kacau actually) her and my cousins.
Besides, I had been attending some meetings and seminars over the weekend – so we missed seeing each other when she and Ayah Tam came for their weekly visit to see Tok.
Finding her note on my bed after not seeing her for so long just made me realise that I need to see my extended family members more often. I’ve been missing a few kenduri’s, gatherings and what-nots due to some work obligations. Perhaps it won’t be a bad idea to just say 'hi' to my dearest aunt and her kids in Sungai Buloh one of these days…
#####
At the end of the day – most people won’t remember us for being hardworking officers who stay back long after the official office hours ended. But our loved ones – friends and family - will remember us for all the little irks, quirks and other tiniest details that make a world of difference to them, whether we realise it or not.
On early Sunday morning I sent a text message to Laila, my long time buddy - “Happy birthday and may Allah bless you always”.
I used to call up my friends on the morning of their birthday – sometimes to recite a poem, at other times, to sing altered versions of “Happy Birthday”, or simply to wish many happy returns. Nowadays, I just resort to mostly text messages, or sometimes, picture messages, to convey my wishes.
And it wasn't a big deal. After all, I’ve remembered Laila’s birthday since forever – her birth date would be considered as extremely lucky by many Chinese and Japanese; the 8th day of the 8th month.
I did not expect Laila to be so touched by the fact that an old friend actually remembered to wish her happy birthday. Laila’s reply though left no doubt that she was indeed very pleased –
“Tq so much for being such a compassionate friend… May Allah bless u 2!”
Imagine the surprise of being called a “compassionate friend” due to a simple birthday text message…
####
I reached home that Sunday evening at about six after a long, tiring over-three-hours journey by bus. Saw a piece of white paper on my bed, and it read:
“Kak,
Mak Tam was here. Pinjam your telekung. TQ.
(Signed)
P/S: Long time no see”
Mak Tam is my auntie by marriage. Ayah’s younger brother, Ayah Tam married her when I was about 8 years old. Among all my aunts, I’ve always been closest to Mak Tam – a high school teacher who could listen well and disperse some great advice.
Since Tok, my paternal grandma, was diagnosed with alzheimer a few years ago (in addition to her diabetes and heart problem) she has been moving from one place to another, staying with her children in some rotation arrangement. Most of the time though, she would be staying with my family, since Ayah as the eldest in the family, feels he should take extra responsibility in taking care of Tok. Otherwise, Tok could often be found staying with my auntie Nyah in Bangi or Ayah Tam in Sungai Buloh.
Whenever Tok is in Sungai Buloh, “tengok Tok” would be the perfect excuse for me to hang out at Ayah Tam’s place and spend time with Mak Tam and my cousins. I shared my latest adventures (or misadventures), showed her the latest photos, ranted about this and that - basically updating her with what's the latest in my life. In fact, Mak Tam has always been my main confidant in the family – I only began to confide more in Mak since she began her retirement last year. Prior to that, Mak Tam probably knew a lot more of the latest happenings in my life than my own mother did.
Anyway, the "long time no see" part is true, it has been a while since I last saw her. Three of her children will be sitting for major exams this year – and all of them had to be cajoled into studying. They will only do some serious studying and revision when Mak Tam is around, so unless it’s absolutely necessary, I tried not to go visit (more like kacau actually) her and my cousins.
Besides, I had been attending some meetings and seminars over the weekend – so we missed seeing each other when she and Ayah Tam came for their weekly visit to see Tok.
Finding her note on my bed after not seeing her for so long just made me realise that I need to see my extended family members more often. I’ve been missing a few kenduri’s, gatherings and what-nots due to some work obligations. Perhaps it won’t be a bad idea to just say 'hi' to my dearest aunt and her kids in Sungai Buloh one of these days…
#####
At the end of the day – most people won’t remember us for being hardworking officers who stay back long after the official office hours ended. But our loved ones – friends and family - will remember us for all the little irks, quirks and other tiniest details that make a world of difference to them, whether we realise it or not.
10 Painful Puns
Okay, okay, this may be another lame e-mail spin-off entry - but I kinda like it...
1. Two vultures board an airplane, each carrying two dead raccoons.The stewardess looks at them and says, "I'm sorry, Gentlemen. Only one carrion allowed per passenger."
2. Two boll weevils grew up in South Carolina. One went to Hollywood and became a famous actor. The other stayed behind in the cotton fields and never amounted to much. The second one, naturally, became known as the lesser of two weevils.
3. There were two Eskimos sitting in a kayak. They were cold so they lit a fire, and the craft sank. It only proved, once again, that you can't have your kayak and heat it, too.
4. A three-legged dog walks into a saloon in the Old West. He slides up to the bar and announces, "I'm looking for the man who shot my paw."
5. Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocaine during a root canal? He wanted to transcend dental medication.
6. A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. After about an hour, the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse. "But why?" they asked, as they moved off. "Because," he said,"I can't stand chess nuts boasting in an open foyer."
7. A woman has twins and gives them up for adoption. One of them goes to a family in Egypt and is named "Ahmal." The other goes to a family in Spain and they name him "Juan." Years later, Juan sends a picture of himself to his birth mother. Upon receiving the picture, she tells her husband that she wishes she also had a picture of Ahmal. Her husband responds, "They're twins! If you've seen Juan, you've seen Ahmal."
8. These friars were behind on their belfry payments, so they opened up a small florist shop to raise funds. Since everyone liked to buy flowers from the men of God, a rival florist across town thought the competition was unfair. He asked the good brothers to close down, but they would not. He went back and begged the friars to close. They ignored him. So, the rival florist hired Hugh MacTaggart, the roughest and most vicious thug in town to "persuade" them to close. Hugh beat up the friars and trashed their store, saying he'd be back if they didn't close up shop.Terrified, they did so, thereby proving that Hugh, and only Hugh, can prevent florist friars.
9. Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time,which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him... what?
Answer: A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.
10. And finally, there was the person who sent ten different puns to friends, with the hope that at least one of the puns would make them laugh.Unfortunately, no pun in ten did.
1. Two vultures board an airplane, each carrying two dead raccoons.The stewardess looks at them and says, "I'm sorry, Gentlemen. Only one carrion allowed per passenger."
2. Two boll weevils grew up in South Carolina. One went to Hollywood and became a famous actor. The other stayed behind in the cotton fields and never amounted to much. The second one, naturally, became known as the lesser of two weevils.
3. There were two Eskimos sitting in a kayak. They were cold so they lit a fire, and the craft sank. It only proved, once again, that you can't have your kayak and heat it, too.
4. A three-legged dog walks into a saloon in the Old West. He slides up to the bar and announces, "I'm looking for the man who shot my paw."
5. Did you hear about the Buddhist who refused Novocaine during a root canal? He wanted to transcend dental medication.
6. A group of chess enthusiasts checked into a hotel and were standing in the lobby discussing their recent tournament victories. After about an hour, the manager came out of the office and asked them to disperse. "But why?" they asked, as they moved off. "Because," he said,"I can't stand chess nuts boasting in an open foyer."
7. A woman has twins and gives them up for adoption. One of them goes to a family in Egypt and is named "Ahmal." The other goes to a family in Spain and they name him "Juan." Years later, Juan sends a picture of himself to his birth mother. Upon receiving the picture, she tells her husband that she wishes she also had a picture of Ahmal. Her husband responds, "They're twins! If you've seen Juan, you've seen Ahmal."
8. These friars were behind on their belfry payments, so they opened up a small florist shop to raise funds. Since everyone liked to buy flowers from the men of God, a rival florist across town thought the competition was unfair. He asked the good brothers to close down, but they would not. He went back and begged the friars to close. They ignored him. So, the rival florist hired Hugh MacTaggart, the roughest and most vicious thug in town to "persuade" them to close. Hugh beat up the friars and trashed their store, saying he'd be back if they didn't close up shop.Terrified, they did so, thereby proving that Hugh, and only Hugh, can prevent florist friars.
9. Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time,which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him... what?
Answer: A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.
10. And finally, there was the person who sent ten different puns to friends, with the hope that at least one of the puns would make them laugh.Unfortunately, no pun in ten did.
Help...
I need some help...
A few of my friends could never access my blog despite trying doing so through diffrent ways, at different times. A friend contacted Blogger Support and got a reply that went something like... " I have just gone to take a look at the blog you've specified and was able to view it without problems. This may have been a temporary problem that has since been resolved."
I contacted Blogger Support too and got a reply that advised me to make sure that my friends are using the correct address to access my site. I am very sure that they are using the correct address - but they always got an Error message. I even asked them to check if they could access other *.blogspot.com blogs and I was told that they had no such problem with others. It's just mine. And while they could access other blogs, they still could not access my blog via other blog's link.
Anybody mind telling me where did it go wrong and how my friends can overcome this problem?
Thanks
A few of my friends could never access my blog despite trying doing so through diffrent ways, at different times. A friend contacted Blogger Support and got a reply that went something like... " I have just gone to take a look at the blog you've specified and was able to view it without problems. This may have been a temporary problem that has since been resolved."
I contacted Blogger Support too and got a reply that advised me to make sure that my friends are using the correct address to access my site. I am very sure that they are using the correct address - but they always got an Error message. I even asked them to check if they could access other *.blogspot.com blogs and I was told that they had no such problem with others. It's just mine. And while they could access other blogs, they still could not access my blog via other blog's link.
Anybody mind telling me where did it go wrong and how my friends can overcome this problem?
Thanks
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
Closed Book vs Magazine Type
Well, according to a senior officer in my office, I am a closed book type. When I asked him to explain what he actually meant by that, he hesitated and fumbled, not knowing exactly how to describe what he meant.
I then asked him why he called me a closed book type.
He referred to another girl in my office to point out the difference.
“You see, she’s the ‘magazine’ type. Attractive and lots of people will pick up a magazine over a book. She’s approachable and guys prefer that. On the other hand, you are the 'closed book' type. Granted, a book could be very much interesting than a magazine, with good plots, good characters, could make one cry, could make one laugh, and a treasure to behold. But in comparison to fun, colourful and eye-catching magazines - books, especially closed books, are rather aloof. Unapproachable.”
Unapproachable?
“The fact that you are tall for a Malay girl means that shorter guys normally wouldn’t approach you. Then, look at how you dress. Your choice of colours is akin to some makcik-makcik. Your tudungs are too demure. Okay, I know your parents have trained you well to stick to lacklustre colours, but it all add up to make you a 'closed book' type.”
Really? Does closed book equates introvert? Because I know for sure that I’m definitely an extrovert.
So, he went on to cite two other female senior officers as examples – both of them in their 40’s and successful in their careers, but Mrs Ru is an attractive mother of four while gentle and shy Ms. Ro has never been married.
“My dear, to put it simply - you are like Mrs Ru in the packaging of Ms. Ro”
Huh?
“You are smart, confident, have a good sense of humour, with a strong family background, and any guy would be lucky to be with you but how many do you think would want to try their luck with you when right from the start your appearance are sending messages to shoo them away? I think you’d better change your wardrobe, change some style, make yourself more presentable, more approachable’
I smiled, promised to ponder on his words and see what I can do about it.
It’s true that I don’t require a big spotlight on me at all times to convince myself of my real value. I’m flexible when it comes to dressing – occasionally I relish getting a compliment on my baju kurung or kebaya, and other times I enjoy being the social bystander, appreciating others. While that senior officer claimed that my colours are too makcik-makcik, another colleague criticized my clothes’ colours as too striking. The one time this colleague of mine complimented me on my clothing was when I wore a blue pair of baju kurung matched with a brown tudung that would definitely be called demure by my senior officer. I guess, since his office is on a different floor, we have never crossed path on the days I wore livelier colours of yellow, green, pink or purple.
The truth is, I’d never given much thought to what I wear. Back in school, I was still wearing huge plastic-frame glasses when chic metal-frames became the ‘in’ thing. I started wearing nicer tudung when I was in form three – two years late compared to most of my classmates. I used to wear Mak’s baju kurung to prep classes and that was why most of my baju kurung were ill-fitted during my early secondary school days. But they did not bother me, had never bothered me – why not, if they could save Mak from buying new clothes and instead used the money for other purposes?
Still, my “tak kisah” stance about my dressing did not automatically make me a wallflower in school. I was involved in lots of associations and clubs’ activities and teachers remember me long after I left school. I had never been the quiet type no matter how demure my clothing was. In fact, even after I entered college, the university, the office – somehow or another, I would always find myself in some leadership position, be it as the Chairperson of this and that or merely a Committee member of this and that. A friend once described me as smart, straightforward and sassy - a natural born leader. And that has nothing to do with how I dress.
While I missed out on receiving notes and gifts from secret admirers when I was in school, my experiences later in life more than made up for it. The thing I appreciate most about guys who approached, or tried to approach me, is the fact that they could appreciate my personality and characters, that they are not intimidated by me and they are able to look beyond my not-so-good sense of dressing.
All things considered – I guess I would rather be an interesting, note-worthy, thought-provoking treasure of a book, closed or otherwise, than merely an entertaining, short living attention-grabbing magazine. Nevertheless, I guess it won’t be wrong to take my senior officer’s advice into consideration when I’m sure he meant well… Maybe I can compromise a little bit. I still want to wear what I like and feel comfortable wearing. I am not, and had never been a person dictated by the latest fashions or the ‘in’ trends. So, even if some changes are inevitable, even if I need to increase some flexibility in dressing up – some areas would remain non-negotiable. Otherwise, along with losing my personal sense of dressing, I might lose a part of myself.
Now, if only I could get a consultant on how to change the cover of this book effectively…
I then asked him why he called me a closed book type.
He referred to another girl in my office to point out the difference.
“You see, she’s the ‘magazine’ type. Attractive and lots of people will pick up a magazine over a book. She’s approachable and guys prefer that. On the other hand, you are the 'closed book' type. Granted, a book could be very much interesting than a magazine, with good plots, good characters, could make one cry, could make one laugh, and a treasure to behold. But in comparison to fun, colourful and eye-catching magazines - books, especially closed books, are rather aloof. Unapproachable.”
Unapproachable?
“The fact that you are tall for a Malay girl means that shorter guys normally wouldn’t approach you. Then, look at how you dress. Your choice of colours is akin to some makcik-makcik. Your tudungs are too demure. Okay, I know your parents have trained you well to stick to lacklustre colours, but it all add up to make you a 'closed book' type.”
Really? Does closed book equates introvert? Because I know for sure that I’m definitely an extrovert.
So, he went on to cite two other female senior officers as examples – both of them in their 40’s and successful in their careers, but Mrs Ru is an attractive mother of four while gentle and shy Ms. Ro has never been married.
“My dear, to put it simply - you are like Mrs Ru in the packaging of Ms. Ro”
Huh?
“You are smart, confident, have a good sense of humour, with a strong family background, and any guy would be lucky to be with you but how many do you think would want to try their luck with you when right from the start your appearance are sending messages to shoo them away? I think you’d better change your wardrobe, change some style, make yourself more presentable, more approachable’
I smiled, promised to ponder on his words and see what I can do about it.
It’s true that I don’t require a big spotlight on me at all times to convince myself of my real value. I’m flexible when it comes to dressing – occasionally I relish getting a compliment on my baju kurung or kebaya, and other times I enjoy being the social bystander, appreciating others. While that senior officer claimed that my colours are too makcik-makcik, another colleague criticized my clothes’ colours as too striking. The one time this colleague of mine complimented me on my clothing was when I wore a blue pair of baju kurung matched with a brown tudung that would definitely be called demure by my senior officer. I guess, since his office is on a different floor, we have never crossed path on the days I wore livelier colours of yellow, green, pink or purple.
The truth is, I’d never given much thought to what I wear. Back in school, I was still wearing huge plastic-frame glasses when chic metal-frames became the ‘in’ thing. I started wearing nicer tudung when I was in form three – two years late compared to most of my classmates. I used to wear Mak’s baju kurung to prep classes and that was why most of my baju kurung were ill-fitted during my early secondary school days. But they did not bother me, had never bothered me – why not, if they could save Mak from buying new clothes and instead used the money for other purposes?
Still, my “tak kisah” stance about my dressing did not automatically make me a wallflower in school. I was involved in lots of associations and clubs’ activities and teachers remember me long after I left school. I had never been the quiet type no matter how demure my clothing was. In fact, even after I entered college, the university, the office – somehow or another, I would always find myself in some leadership position, be it as the Chairperson of this and that or merely a Committee member of this and that. A friend once described me as smart, straightforward and sassy - a natural born leader. And that has nothing to do with how I dress.
While I missed out on receiving notes and gifts from secret admirers when I was in school, my experiences later in life more than made up for it. The thing I appreciate most about guys who approached, or tried to approach me, is the fact that they could appreciate my personality and characters, that they are not intimidated by me and they are able to look beyond my not-so-good sense of dressing.
All things considered – I guess I would rather be an interesting, note-worthy, thought-provoking treasure of a book, closed or otherwise, than merely an entertaining, short living attention-grabbing magazine. Nevertheless, I guess it won’t be wrong to take my senior officer’s advice into consideration when I’m sure he meant well… Maybe I can compromise a little bit. I still want to wear what I like and feel comfortable wearing. I am not, and had never been a person dictated by the latest fashions or the ‘in’ trends. So, even if some changes are inevitable, even if I need to increase some flexibility in dressing up – some areas would remain non-negotiable. Otherwise, along with losing my personal sense of dressing, I might lose a part of myself.
Now, if only I could get a consultant on how to change the cover of this book effectively…
A beautiful sunset...
When I was in Port Dickson last month, I managed to take a stroll down the beach. A quiet moment alone. I think I have heard that no matter what time of the year, a stroll on the beach is always good for our soul.
I enjoyed my stroll along Teluk Kemang beach in PD. But not as much as I enjoyed wading with naked feet along the Damai Laut beach just in the edge of the water with a few girlfriends.
. . .
. . .
After our stroll, I joined Afaf in her snapshooting spree of a glorious sunset, taking simple pleasure from watching the sun going down...
. . .
... down
. . .
... down
. . .
"We were made to enjoy music, to enjoy beautiful sunsets, to enjoy looking at the billows of the sea… Human beings are actually created for the transcendent, for the sublime, for the beautiful, for the truthful... and all of us are given the task of trying to make this world a little more hospitable to these beautiful things."
~ Desmond Tutu ~
. . .
*pics courtesy of Afaf (and her relatively new Canon Ixus)
Monday, August 09, 2004
For my fellow Aurorans
I was rather pleased to discover my blog mentioned in 'Olai Tannon' at artakus.net. (entry 3773) today.
So, just to save my fellow Aurorans some time, my entry on discovering the return of Saga Artakusiad could be read here.
And yes, I supposed I am "a very, very happy Auroran" ...*grins*
So, just to save my fellow Aurorans some time, my entry on discovering the return of Saga Artakusiad could be read here.
And yes, I supposed I am "a very, very happy Auroran" ...*grins*
Just because...
(Writer’s note: The first draft of this blog also first appeared on a piece of Damai Laut’s Swiss Garden Resort & Spa writing pad, written during one of the many presentation sessions throughout the 3-days Strategic Planning Session a.k.a. SPS)
There was this one cute heartthrob I met during the SPS. Tall, evenly-distanced brown eyes, not-so-straight nose, spocky-like ears and a really nice smile. I noticed him right after the bus arrived at the hotel, and he appeared to be waiting for the very same bus, greeted a few people I didn't know. However, when I did not see him during the first presentation session later that night, I thought he might be with another group and not ours.
The next day though, he was seated not far from me in the second session, so I realised that he was with my office's group after all. I later learned that he’s an engineer with the Water Supply Department. (Since I’m in the Communications division, I didn’t know that many people from the Water Supply Department or the Sanitation Department, save for some girls I interacted with and met in Puspanita’s meeting.) It went without saying that I was rather pleased to have a ‘catalyst’ to prevent me from ‘tidur duduk’ throughout the SPS.*winks*
Noticing my sudden interest, a friend seated next to me asked, “Are you interested in him?”
I was surprised to be asked such question – I had no idea whether Mr Heartthrob was single or not, whether we share anything in common or not, whether he was a nice person or not… All I knew was just that I liked looking at him. That was all.
Just because I like one guy’s look, it doesn’t automatically means that I am interested in him. Maybe I would welcome the opportunity to know him better, but with guys, it is often better to stick to the old saying – “don’t judge a book by its cover”.
Just because I approve of a guy’s sense of dressing and I appreciate his physical attributes, it doesn’t necessarily means that I would like to be with him. After all, I went out with cuter guys than Mr Heartthrob before – but after getting to know them, I decided that they were not worth it. With guys, it is more important to know him first before I can decide whether or not he’s worthy of being admired and respected. It is more important to know how trustworthy, honest and sincere he is, rather than entertaining the thought of how cool it would be to be with someone good looking. After all, sooner or later, good looks faded, but virtues often remain.
Physical attributes are just what seem to be from the outer appearance, where else what counts more is what is inside a person. Because the most important part of a person is his or her heart.
That’s what counts most.
There was this one cute heartthrob I met during the SPS. Tall, evenly-distanced brown eyes, not-so-straight nose, spocky-like ears and a really nice smile. I noticed him right after the bus arrived at the hotel, and he appeared to be waiting for the very same bus, greeted a few people I didn't know. However, when I did not see him during the first presentation session later that night, I thought he might be with another group and not ours.
The next day though, he was seated not far from me in the second session, so I realised that he was with my office's group after all. I later learned that he’s an engineer with the Water Supply Department. (Since I’m in the Communications division, I didn’t know that many people from the Water Supply Department or the Sanitation Department, save for some girls I interacted with and met in Puspanita’s meeting.) It went without saying that I was rather pleased to have a ‘catalyst’ to prevent me from ‘tidur duduk’ throughout the SPS.*winks*
Noticing my sudden interest, a friend seated next to me asked, “Are you interested in him?”
I was surprised to be asked such question – I had no idea whether Mr Heartthrob was single or not, whether we share anything in common or not, whether he was a nice person or not… All I knew was just that I liked looking at him. That was all.
Just because I like one guy’s look, it doesn’t automatically means that I am interested in him. Maybe I would welcome the opportunity to know him better, but with guys, it is often better to stick to the old saying – “don’t judge a book by its cover”.
Just because I approve of a guy’s sense of dressing and I appreciate his physical attributes, it doesn’t necessarily means that I would like to be with him. After all, I went out with cuter guys than Mr Heartthrob before – but after getting to know them, I decided that they were not worth it. With guys, it is more important to know him first before I can decide whether or not he’s worthy of being admired and respected. It is more important to know how trustworthy, honest and sincere he is, rather than entertaining the thought of how cool it would be to be with someone good looking. After all, sooner or later, good looks faded, but virtues often remain.
Physical attributes are just what seem to be from the outer appearance, where else what counts more is what is inside a person. Because the most important part of a person is his or her heart.
That’s what counts most.
Muhibbah incident on a bus
(Writer’s note: The first draft of this blog first appeared on a piece of Damai Laut’s Swiss Garden Resort & Spa writing pad, written during the first of many presentation sessions throughout the 3-days Strategic Planning Session)
The bus was supposed to leave at 2.30 p.m.
We finished doing some last minute adjustments on some presentation slides at about 2.00 p.m. The half hour left just enough time for me to perform my solat jamak Zohor & Asar and submitted a quick entry on my blog – but no time for lunch.
I did not have a proper breakfast because Mr Teo – my former SUB who is now a TKSU- asked me to accompany him to meet the KSU to discuss some outstanding matters involving some telcos at 8.30 a.m. Both the junior and senior officers who are actually handling the matters were not around then, so since I was the one who previously prepared a report on this matter, Mr Teo decided to seek my help.
Right after the meeting – I had to assist my fellow junior officers with last minute corrections on our Division’s presentation slides. In between lintang pukang running everywhere to get information on this and that, I managed to stop at my clerk’s place and had a kaya bun. That, plus a mug of plain water was all I had before the bus left the office.
I was hoping that the bus would stop at any R&R area so that we could buy some snack - we would only be reaching Damai Laut after more than three and a half hours. A long trip and I was hungry right from the very beginning. The bus almost stopped in Rawang, but there was a minor accident involving a car and a one-ton lorry at the entrance of the Petronas station, obstructing our bus from entering it – so the driver drove on without stopping.
I then hoped that the bus would stop in Tapah R&R area. However, the driver chose to go to Damai Laut via the Bidor exit, so we did not pass by Tapah at all.
In between napping, catching glimpses of Jet Li and DMX on “Cradle 2 the Grave” video shown on the bus’s TV and reading a few pages of “13 Secrets for speaking fluent Japanese”, I was praying that we would stop some place where I could get a filling snack. My stomach started to growl, so I opened up an individual pack of 6-pieces calcium crackers that I managed to grab before leaving my desk.
Apparently I was not the only one who wished that the bus would stop some place to get some snack. Mohana, sitting next to me, across the aisle, was also disappointed to learn that the bus would not be stopping in any R&R area since she was feeling rather hungry. By then I had opened an inidividual pack of 2-pieces butter cookies given to me by Miss Chan and was about to pop the last piece inside my mouth. I immediately stopped and offered her that cookie – which she gladly accepted.
I confessed that I too haven’t eaten anything that day and was rather starved myself. Perhaps she overheard us, Miss Chan, who was seated in front of me, turned back and offered, “A.Z., would you like to have this scone?”
That scone definitely looked tempting – with lots of raisins and fruity bits. I turned to Mohana and thought she might like the scone. “Miss Chan, maybe you want to give it to Mohana. I’m alright, don’t worry.” (Okay, maybe I wasn’t telling the whole truth – but I really thought that the under weighed Mohana deserved it more.)
“Mohana, would you like to have this scone?, ” Miss Chan turned her attention to Mohana.
“No thanks, it’s okay. You can give it to A.Z,” Mohana refused politely.
“No, Miss Chan, just give it to Mohana. She’s starving,” I insisted.
Miss Chan did not waste any more time arguing with us. She straightaway put the scone on Mohana’s lap. I could tell that Miss Chan was feeling a bit hungry too. Earlier in Rawang, she too confessed that she hoped that the bus would stop – later on, I noticed she munched on some butter cookies. Still, she was selfless enough to offer her scone to Mohana and I when she overheard our declarations of feeling hungry.
“Hey, at least I already had some cendol for lunch. Here A.Z., let’s share this,”
Mohana broke the scone in two and gave me one part.
I smiled. A piece of scone being offered by Miss Chan to me, but passed to Mohana on my insistence and Mohana in turn, shared it with me.
A truly ‘muhibbah’ incident.
The bus was supposed to leave at 2.30 p.m.
We finished doing some last minute adjustments on some presentation slides at about 2.00 p.m. The half hour left just enough time for me to perform my solat jamak Zohor & Asar and submitted a quick entry on my blog – but no time for lunch.
I did not have a proper breakfast because Mr Teo – my former SUB who is now a TKSU- asked me to accompany him to meet the KSU to discuss some outstanding matters involving some telcos at 8.30 a.m. Both the junior and senior officers who are actually handling the matters were not around then, so since I was the one who previously prepared a report on this matter, Mr Teo decided to seek my help.
Right after the meeting – I had to assist my fellow junior officers with last minute corrections on our Division’s presentation slides. In between lintang pukang running everywhere to get information on this and that, I managed to stop at my clerk’s place and had a kaya bun. That, plus a mug of plain water was all I had before the bus left the office.
I was hoping that the bus would stop at any R&R area so that we could buy some snack - we would only be reaching Damai Laut after more than three and a half hours. A long trip and I was hungry right from the very beginning. The bus almost stopped in Rawang, but there was a minor accident involving a car and a one-ton lorry at the entrance of the Petronas station, obstructing our bus from entering it – so the driver drove on without stopping.
I then hoped that the bus would stop in Tapah R&R area. However, the driver chose to go to Damai Laut via the Bidor exit, so we did not pass by Tapah at all.
In between napping, catching glimpses of Jet Li and DMX on “Cradle 2 the Grave” video shown on the bus’s TV and reading a few pages of “13 Secrets for speaking fluent Japanese”, I was praying that we would stop some place where I could get a filling snack. My stomach started to growl, so I opened up an individual pack of 6-pieces calcium crackers that I managed to grab before leaving my desk.
Apparently I was not the only one who wished that the bus would stop some place to get some snack. Mohana, sitting next to me, across the aisle, was also disappointed to learn that the bus would not be stopping in any R&R area since she was feeling rather hungry. By then I had opened an inidividual pack of 2-pieces butter cookies given to me by Miss Chan and was about to pop the last piece inside my mouth. I immediately stopped and offered her that cookie – which she gladly accepted.
I confessed that I too haven’t eaten anything that day and was rather starved myself. Perhaps she overheard us, Miss Chan, who was seated in front of me, turned back and offered, “A.Z., would you like to have this scone?”
That scone definitely looked tempting – with lots of raisins and fruity bits. I turned to Mohana and thought she might like the scone. “Miss Chan, maybe you want to give it to Mohana. I’m alright, don’t worry.” (Okay, maybe I wasn’t telling the whole truth – but I really thought that the under weighed Mohana deserved it more.)
“Mohana, would you like to have this scone?, ” Miss Chan turned her attention to Mohana.
“No thanks, it’s okay. You can give it to A.Z,” Mohana refused politely.
“No, Miss Chan, just give it to Mohana. She’s starving,” I insisted.
Miss Chan did not waste any more time arguing with us. She straightaway put the scone on Mohana’s lap. I could tell that Miss Chan was feeling a bit hungry too. Earlier in Rawang, she too confessed that she hoped that the bus would stop – later on, I noticed she munched on some butter cookies. Still, she was selfless enough to offer her scone to Mohana and I when she overheard our declarations of feeling hungry.
“Hey, at least I already had some cendol for lunch. Here A.Z., let’s share this,”
Mohana broke the scone in two and gave me one part.
I smiled. A piece of scone being offered by Miss Chan to me, but passed to Mohana on my insistence and Mohana in turn, shared it with me.
A truly ‘muhibbah’ incident.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
Free Gifts
Got this from another friend and thought it might be worth sharing....
Eight Gifts That Don't Cost a Cent
In the economy of the heart, these presents are priceless.
This simple checklist can help measure how you are nurturing your relationships.
The Gift of Listening
But you must really listen. Don't interrupt, don't daydream, don't plan your response. Just listen.
The Gift of Affection
Be generous with appropriate hugs, kisses, pats on the back and handholds. Let these small actions demonstrate the love you have for family and friends.
The Gift of Laughter
Clip cartoons. Share articles and funny stories. Your gift will say, "I love to laugh with you."
The Gift of Solitude
There are times when we want nothing better than to be left alone. Be sensitive to those times and give the gift of solitude to others.
The Gift of a Favor
Everyday, go out of your way to do something kind.
The Gift of a Written Note
It can be a simple "Thanks for the help" note or a full sonnet. A brief, handwritten note may be remembered for a lifetime.
The Gift of a Compliment
A simple and sincere, "You look great in red," "You did a super job," or "That was a wonderful meal" can make someone's day.
The Gift of a Cheerful Disposition
The easiest way to feel good is to extend a kind word to someone.
Have a nice rest-of-the week and weekend everybody...
I'll be away - attending (and kerja kuat for) some Strategic Planning Session in Perak... Will be back on Monday, insya Allah.
Eight Gifts That Don't Cost a Cent
In the economy of the heart, these presents are priceless.
This simple checklist can help measure how you are nurturing your relationships.
The Gift of Listening
But you must really listen. Don't interrupt, don't daydream, don't plan your response. Just listen.
The Gift of Affection
Be generous with appropriate hugs, kisses, pats on the back and handholds. Let these small actions demonstrate the love you have for family and friends.
The Gift of Laughter
Clip cartoons. Share articles and funny stories. Your gift will say, "I love to laugh with you."
The Gift of Solitude
There are times when we want nothing better than to be left alone. Be sensitive to those times and give the gift of solitude to others.
The Gift of a Favor
Everyday, go out of your way to do something kind.
The Gift of a Written Note
It can be a simple "Thanks for the help" note or a full sonnet. A brief, handwritten note may be remembered for a lifetime.
The Gift of a Compliment
A simple and sincere, "You look great in red," "You did a super job," or "That was a wonderful meal" can make someone's day.
The Gift of a Cheerful Disposition
The easiest way to feel good is to extend a kind word to someone.
Have a nice rest-of-the week and weekend everybody...
I'll be away - attending (and kerja kuat for) some Strategic Planning Session in Perak... Will be back on Monday, insya Allah.
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
In Support of Tak Nak Campaign - or not
Somehow able to sense that I wasn't feeling quite alright today, Pak Abas - a senior officer who's now sitting comfortably in a high ranking position in another ministry - sent me a joke through email to cheer me up.
I've received similar e-mail before, minus the photo. While I prefer intelligent jokes, getting toilette jokes like this could also make me smile. It did - just like Pak Abas intended.
It's been a loooong day today - almost 9.00 p.m. and am still at the office
Hmm alahai...
I've received similar e-mail before, minus the photo. While I prefer intelligent jokes, getting toilette jokes like this could also make me smile. It did - just like Pak Abas intended.
It's been a loooong day today - almost 9.00 p.m. and am still at the office
Hmm alahai...
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
Have I been reading the best books?
As cliché as it sounds, I must confess that I cannot live without books. Most friends of mine returned from UK with some Queen Anne silverware pieces, or some crystal vases and deco items, or Corelle dinnerware, or at least – the latest in audio stereo components.
I returned home with two large boxes of books - bought through book club, in car boot sale or otherwise.
There are three bookshelves in my room. All filled to the brim – and I need to add a fourth real soon. There’s one next to my bed, filled with hardcovers. Next to my TV, there’s one filled with my current and all-time favourite (read: “Learn Japanese” books, Chicken Soup for the Soul series, motivational books). Then, at the far end of the room, next to the door of the balcony, there’s the biggest shelf, five tiers storing all the rest – my teenage collection of Hardy Boys’ Casefiles, my meagre collection of Malay books, precious collection of Harry Potter series, mumbo jumbo “How-to” books, the X-Files coffee table book, 500 Amazing Facts for Children, Oxford Dictionary on Quotations and lots and lots of English novels by various writers.
Last night as I rummaged through the five-tier shelf to look for my Saga Artakusiad books – yes, I rummaged, because one tier could hold up to three horizontal layers of books – I stopped and thought for a while. They say that books help in widening your horizon, increasing your knowledge; that books are the treasured wealth of the world and could be the most generous inheritance – but have I learned enough? Mark Twain once pointed out that the man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who cannot read them. Looking at the whole lot of novels I own, it made me wonder if I had actually been reading good books, if I actually have some advantage over others who do not read or possess as many books.
Unlike my collection which mostly comprises novels, Mak fills up an antique cabinet downstairs with some real gems – collection of hadeeth in Sahih Bukhari and Sahih Muslim, Imam Shafie’s "Al Umm", Imam Malik’s "Muwatta’", Imam Ghazali’s "Ihya’ Ulumuddin", "Fiqh As Sunnah" and all - which I regretfully admit have never really been read by me. I’d only browsed through them when I need to check up on some facts – but apart from those moments, I have never read them thoroughly, like I did with all the novels stored in my room.
In her own room, Mak keeps and builds her own library of contemporary books on Islam and the world, consisting among others - “The Great Deception”, “International Jews”, “Holy war and Unholy Terrors” and “The Fundamental of Tawheed”. It was Mak who introduced me to Syed Qutb’s “Maalim Fit Tariq” (Milestones) when I was in college, and I was immediately awed by his explanation of jihad, his take on the Islamic brotherhood and his sense of freedom. Despite my preference for contemporary books, despite it being written in the 60s, the book could still awake something inside me - almost as if it talks to me - every time I pick it up for another read.
Mak noted that I lack in reading wordly, non-fiction books and harped on me a few times, “Kak, I know that you do read a lot. I know that you spend a lot of money on books. But, have you been reading the best books?”
Well, I know I have learned a lot of the legal world, not only through my law lectures but also through descriptions of the legal world as found in John Grisham’s or Steve Martini’s books. I can definitely vouch that I have learned some medical terms by reading novels by Robin Cook. I was first introduced to British constitutions and politics via Jeffrey Archer’s novels. And what little ideas I have about extraordinaire/spies/private investigators/detectives were mostly drawn from my reading of Dean Koontz, James Patterson, Lee Child, Nelson DeMille and all. Oh – and like most other girls, I read romance too – mostly by Julie Garwood, Nicholas Sparks, Elizabeth Lowell, Jude Deveraux and Judith McNaught. And yes, I do read some classic – A Tale of Two Cities being my top favourite.
I supposed it won’t be totally wrong for me to admit being a self-professed well-read person. But last night, in the midst of novels and how-to books, I questioned myself, “Have I been reading the best books? Have I been reading the good ones?”
And I found that I could not give myself a truly honest and satisfactory answer – as yet.
I returned home with two large boxes of books - bought through book club, in car boot sale or otherwise.
There are three bookshelves in my room. All filled to the brim – and I need to add a fourth real soon. There’s one next to my bed, filled with hardcovers. Next to my TV, there’s one filled with my current and all-time favourite (read: “Learn Japanese” books, Chicken Soup for the Soul series, motivational books). Then, at the far end of the room, next to the door of the balcony, there’s the biggest shelf, five tiers storing all the rest – my teenage collection of Hardy Boys’ Casefiles, my meagre collection of Malay books, precious collection of Harry Potter series, mumbo jumbo “How-to” books, the X-Files coffee table book, 500 Amazing Facts for Children, Oxford Dictionary on Quotations and lots and lots of English novels by various writers.
Last night as I rummaged through the five-tier shelf to look for my Saga Artakusiad books – yes, I rummaged, because one tier could hold up to three horizontal layers of books – I stopped and thought for a while. They say that books help in widening your horizon, increasing your knowledge; that books are the treasured wealth of the world and could be the most generous inheritance – but have I learned enough? Mark Twain once pointed out that the man who does not read good books has no advantage over the man who cannot read them. Looking at the whole lot of novels I own, it made me wonder if I had actually been reading good books, if I actually have some advantage over others who do not read or possess as many books.
Unlike my collection which mostly comprises novels, Mak fills up an antique cabinet downstairs with some real gems – collection of hadeeth in Sahih Bukhari and Sahih Muslim, Imam Shafie’s "Al Umm", Imam Malik’s "Muwatta’", Imam Ghazali’s "Ihya’ Ulumuddin", "Fiqh As Sunnah" and all - which I regretfully admit have never really been read by me. I’d only browsed through them when I need to check up on some facts – but apart from those moments, I have never read them thoroughly, like I did with all the novels stored in my room.
In her own room, Mak keeps and builds her own library of contemporary books on Islam and the world, consisting among others - “The Great Deception”, “International Jews”, “Holy war and Unholy Terrors” and “The Fundamental of Tawheed”. It was Mak who introduced me to Syed Qutb’s “Maalim Fit Tariq” (Milestones) when I was in college, and I was immediately awed by his explanation of jihad, his take on the Islamic brotherhood and his sense of freedom. Despite my preference for contemporary books, despite it being written in the 60s, the book could still awake something inside me - almost as if it talks to me - every time I pick it up for another read.
Mak noted that I lack in reading wordly, non-fiction books and harped on me a few times, “Kak, I know that you do read a lot. I know that you spend a lot of money on books. But, have you been reading the best books?”
Well, I know I have learned a lot of the legal world, not only through my law lectures but also through descriptions of the legal world as found in John Grisham’s or Steve Martini’s books. I can definitely vouch that I have learned some medical terms by reading novels by Robin Cook. I was first introduced to British constitutions and politics via Jeffrey Archer’s novels. And what little ideas I have about extraordinaire/spies/private investigators/detectives were mostly drawn from my reading of Dean Koontz, James Patterson, Lee Child, Nelson DeMille and all. Oh – and like most other girls, I read romance too – mostly by Julie Garwood, Nicholas Sparks, Elizabeth Lowell, Jude Deveraux and Judith McNaught. And yes, I do read some classic – A Tale of Two Cities being my top favourite.
I supposed it won’t be totally wrong for me to admit being a self-professed well-read person. But last night, in the midst of novels and how-to books, I questioned myself, “Have I been reading the best books? Have I been reading the good ones?”
And I found that I could not give myself a truly honest and satisfactory answer – as yet.
Monday, August 02, 2004
A reason to look forward into the future with excitement
Nafis, my office colleague knocked on my door early this morning.
“You used to read the Saga Artakusiad books, right?”
“Yes, I have read all six. I have three of the latter books and even though I have searched high and low for them, I’ve never managed to get my hands on the first three…” I was about to launch into a long monologue of how nuts I was about that particular series when Nafis cut me short
“Well, I have something to show you…”
He grinned, disappeared for a while and returned with a white, not-so-thin book in his hand.
“Taraa…” He passed the book to me…
Oh my god! Oh my god! OH. MY. GOD!
It’s Saga Artakusiad’s seventh instalment!
Saga Artakusiad is alive and re-kicking! After over a decade of waiting – Ahmad Patria is back with “Legenda Numerius”, continuing the story of Artakus and his Arkus where he last left off in “Pedang Aurora”.
It turned out that Nafis’s girlfriend knows Ahmad Patria in person and bumped into him by chance during the book’s launch in KLCC last Saturday. She has always been fond of “Abang Pat” as her senior in silat but had no idea whatsoever that “Abang Pat” has a legion of readers who simply, honestly love his Saga Artakusiad series. The lucky girl got a personally autographed (complete with his phone number) copy of “Legenda Numerius” from the author. However, since she does not dig Saga Artakusiad, Nafis get to treat that autographed copy as his own.
“I thought you might have known about it. There were hundreds of his true fans – many of them donning t-shirts with some lines from his book- 'Untuk menjadi Artakus - hati mesti cekal, jiwa mesti kental'. Anyway, I don’t know that many girls who dig fantasy sci-fi genre and I remembered you admitting that you like Saga Artakusiad, so I know you might be happy to learn about the new book.”
Oh yes - I am happy. Deliriously so. I almost jumped up and down in my office as I stared in half-disbelief at the book I clutched in my own hands!
It's true that I don’t know many girls who are into Saga Artakusiad. But it was Ida, who sat next to me in class, who first introduced me to “Permata Aurorius” when we were fourteen or fifteen. She was also the one who loaned me the second and third instalments of the series – “Kota Arialun” and “Kembar Artakus”. I bought the latter three myself– “Petua Azkram”, “Puteri Alindalia” and “Pedang Aurora” - when I was in college. I even bought Spesimen Alpha – a compilation of Malay sci-fi short stories by Ahmad Patria, but somehow those stories did not touch me the way Saga Artakusiad did.
To those who had never heard of it before, think of Saga Artakusiad as Lord of the Rings-meet-Dungeons and Dragons – a fantasy sci-fi written in Malay with Artakus as the main character, leading the good (Aurorans) in battling the bad (Morroks). Although it is admittedly a story inspired by Lord of the Rings, Saga Artakusiad is unique since there was no other Malay writer who had written such work prior to its birth. When it was first published – most other young writers still preferred writing stories on love, friendship and as such. Ahmad Patria was different, his books uniquely his own – and like all other unique series (although it might not be on similar scale as enjoyed by authors of Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter), he began getting a strong-albeit-rather-quiet followers.
“I think you would have enjoyed the launching. Hundreds of fans came to show support – many of them donning t-shirt with the famous line from his book "Untuk menjadi Artakus, hati mesti cekal, jiwa mesti kental""
Nafis told me how humble Ahmad Patria is in person, despite having a Sasterawan Negara as a father (which could be both a blessing and some sort of a ‘curse’ – the way Hizairi felt about being born in a family of writers), despite having thousands of fans waiting breathlessly for the sequel in his Saga Artakusiad series. How he treated every person with respect and patience. How simple and relaxed he seemed despite all the attention he got. How committed and determined he appeared during his explanation of his visions and plans for the whole Saga Artakusiad series.
And I – a real fan of the series - missed the whole launch thingy!!!
“Why didn’t you call me? I would have asked you to straight away grab and buy a copy for me.” Nafis shrugged.
And I would too. After endless and fruitless search of finding the first three books, I have no intention of repeating the same search for his seventh book. And since the seventh book is not published by a major publisher (his previous books were published by Dewan Bahasa dan Pustaka, but not one title had ever been reprinted, for reasons known only to the author), I must admit that I do feel a bit afraid of not finding "Legenda Numerius" ever on any bookstore shelf.
“You can always borrow mine after I’m done with it,” Nafis offered.
No, I don’t want to just read it. I WANT to own it. I NEED to own it.
“Try check it out at Kinokuniya. They might have it in store since he did the launching in connection with Kinokuniya"
That's it. I'm definitely going to Kinokuniya. Still, after ten years of waiting – I think it can wait another day...
*03 August 2004 - Additional note: I rummaged through my book shelf last night - just to check on my collection of Saga Artakusiad books. I had forgotten all about it - but it turned out that I do own a copy of "Kembar Artakus". My relief was apparent in the note scribbled under my name in the first page which read - finally I got my hand on one of the earlier Saga Artakusiad series. Now I remember buying it in a Closing Down sale in Pusat Bandar Damansara's DBP in 1999, a few months after my return from UK.
Saturday, July 31, 2004
To dine with the king; to share a meal with the poor
Two incidents remind me of a lesson I was reminded time and again during my diploma days: we should all learn to be all-rounders who are able to dine with the king and share a meal with the poor.
Anna came back from lunch a few days ago grumbling about some senior officers who, according to her, were behaving most inappropriately.
They were having Japanese bentos for lunch in a five star hotel, and Anna found it disturbing that a few senior officers were behaving like some… ‘jakun’.
“They would touch everything and ask, “What’s this? What’s that? Is this halal? Can we eat that? Can we eat that?” Goodness, I would have expected them to know better than to act like that in front of international guests. Of course we made sure everything is halal. Even if they have no idea what everything was, why couldn’t they ask about those things discreetly? Why do they have to ask loudly and let the whole world know how jakun they were?”
Being a Japanese food lover (despite my inability to master the art of handling the hashis/chopsticks well), I could imagine how confusing it could be to some old-school civil servants to be presented with a bento set for the very first time. To the trained eyes, bento might be a colourful and interesting arrangements of gohan (rice), nimono (boiled stuff), yakimono (broiled or deep fried stuff), sashimi, tempura, koonomono (pickles) accompanied by a bowl of miso soup. To the poor stangers-to-bento though, that lunch set must had seen like a compilation of colourful strange and weird tidbits.
Still, that gave the senior officers no valid excuse to behave like noisy three-years-old, loudly asking for explanation from younger officers. Anna felt like it was a disgrace to the service, especially since they were in the company of some international guests. Not knowing is tolerable as people learn new things all the time, but surely one must learn that it is only polite not to flaunt one’s ignorance in the public? Especially when one’s ignorance can be deemed as a shared trait among his or her peers (even though that is far from being true)?
#####
Yesterday, I went to PWTC to send some important documents to a colleague there. After completing the task, I asked Abang Man, the driver, to stop by any suitable place to get some food. Abang Man had assisted me in running a few errands and I felt obliged to give him a treat. By then, it was a little past four in the evening, thus not many stalls were still opened in our office area. Deciding to play safe, Abang Man took me to a row of stalls near Perkim instead.
“Tapi Cik boleh ke makan kat tempat macam ni?”
(Do you mind eating at such places?)
I assured him that it would be no problem to me. As long as the place is clean, I don’t mind eating in a small warung (food stall). So we had our tea there – I did not had lunch yet so I ordered a plate of Nasi Ayam and iced lime tea while Abang Man settled on having a plate of Maggi goreng and a mug of teh tarik.
I knew some of my friends wouldn’t be caught dead in such warung. Not me though. Three years ago, my mak angkat in Lubuk Kulit in Kuala Lipis once told me that she was thankful to have me as her anak angkat. When I asked her why, she explained that of all anak angkats she had, I was the only one who never complained even once about the kampung food we had over the two weeks I spent there. (Actually, I was a bit turned off by tempoyak for a month after I left the kampung. My foster mother made a dish from tempoyak daily – there was sambal tempoyak, masak lemak tempoyak, rendang tempoyak, serunding tempoyak, etc. I was amazed to know that people from Pahang could come up with so many tempoyak dishes…)
Mak taught me one lesson from a very young age – it doesn’t matter what you eat, at the end of the day, everything will turn into s**t. So I’ve learn not to make a big deal of what or where I eat, so long as it’s halal. Yes, I like tempura, teppanyaki and sushi, but I don’t mind eating pekasam, ikan masin, telur masin and ulam-ulaman. After all, we eat in order to live, not the other way around.
Sure, it would be nice to dine with close pals in Saisaki, Kiku Zakura or Hatsu Hana every once in a while. However, that does not mean I could not equally enjoy a plate of Nasi Ayam in a warung near Perkim building in the company of my office’s driver. Sometimes, listening to a driver’s rants could be very entertaining and enlightening.
I can certainly testify that I've enjoyed such experience.
Anna came back from lunch a few days ago grumbling about some senior officers who, according to her, were behaving most inappropriately.
They were having Japanese bentos for lunch in a five star hotel, and Anna found it disturbing that a few senior officers were behaving like some… ‘jakun’.
“They would touch everything and ask, “What’s this? What’s that? Is this halal? Can we eat that? Can we eat that?” Goodness, I would have expected them to know better than to act like that in front of international guests. Of course we made sure everything is halal. Even if they have no idea what everything was, why couldn’t they ask about those things discreetly? Why do they have to ask loudly and let the whole world know how jakun they were?”
Being a Japanese food lover (despite my inability to master the art of handling the hashis/chopsticks well), I could imagine how confusing it could be to some old-school civil servants to be presented with a bento set for the very first time. To the trained eyes, bento might be a colourful and interesting arrangements of gohan (rice), nimono (boiled stuff), yakimono (broiled or deep fried stuff), sashimi, tempura, koonomono (pickles) accompanied by a bowl of miso soup. To the poor stangers-to-bento though, that lunch set must had seen like a compilation of colourful strange and weird tidbits.
Still, that gave the senior officers no valid excuse to behave like noisy three-years-old, loudly asking for explanation from younger officers. Anna felt like it was a disgrace to the service, especially since they were in the company of some international guests. Not knowing is tolerable as people learn new things all the time, but surely one must learn that it is only polite not to flaunt one’s ignorance in the public? Especially when one’s ignorance can be deemed as a shared trait among his or her peers (even though that is far from being true)?
#####
Yesterday, I went to PWTC to send some important documents to a colleague there. After completing the task, I asked Abang Man, the driver, to stop by any suitable place to get some food. Abang Man had assisted me in running a few errands and I felt obliged to give him a treat. By then, it was a little past four in the evening, thus not many stalls were still opened in our office area. Deciding to play safe, Abang Man took me to a row of stalls near Perkim instead.
“Tapi Cik boleh ke makan kat tempat macam ni?”
(Do you mind eating at such places?)
I assured him that it would be no problem to me. As long as the place is clean, I don’t mind eating in a small warung (food stall). So we had our tea there – I did not had lunch yet so I ordered a plate of Nasi Ayam and iced lime tea while Abang Man settled on having a plate of Maggi goreng and a mug of teh tarik.
I knew some of my friends wouldn’t be caught dead in such warung. Not me though. Three years ago, my mak angkat in Lubuk Kulit in Kuala Lipis once told me that she was thankful to have me as her anak angkat. When I asked her why, she explained that of all anak angkats she had, I was the only one who never complained even once about the kampung food we had over the two weeks I spent there. (Actually, I was a bit turned off by tempoyak for a month after I left the kampung. My foster mother made a dish from tempoyak daily – there was sambal tempoyak, masak lemak tempoyak, rendang tempoyak, serunding tempoyak, etc. I was amazed to know that people from Pahang could come up with so many tempoyak dishes…)
Mak taught me one lesson from a very young age – it doesn’t matter what you eat, at the end of the day, everything will turn into s**t. So I’ve learn not to make a big deal of what or where I eat, so long as it’s halal. Yes, I like tempura, teppanyaki and sushi, but I don’t mind eating pekasam, ikan masin, telur masin and ulam-ulaman. After all, we eat in order to live, not the other way around.
Sure, it would be nice to dine with close pals in Saisaki, Kiku Zakura or Hatsu Hana every once in a while. However, that does not mean I could not equally enjoy a plate of Nasi Ayam in a warung near Perkim building in the company of my office’s driver. Sometimes, listening to a driver’s rants could be very entertaining and enlightening.
I can certainly testify that I've enjoyed such experience.
Friday, July 30, 2004
"Are you happy?"
Some people are lucky enough to love their job.
Some are lucky enough to be able to do what they love while carrying on with their job
Some are lucky enough to quit their job and do the things they really love.
Here's a story I received via e-mail that might be of interest to some:
" I was sitting at a restaurant with a young guy who had been with our agency for about five years. He had a large home, a parking place close to the front door, and a brass nameplate on his door. Over lunch we started talking about the definition of success. I mentioned a Personal Mission Statement. He said he hadn't heard about the concept. To demonstrate to him how to go about creating one, I asked him what was important to him. He started naming all the things he wanted to do. Not one had anything to do with his job.
I was intrigued. "Well, are you happy?" I asked him when he finished.
He said, "Well, no."
I said, "But you're successful, right?" and laughed a little. He just sat there thinking.
I didn't see him again for a couple of months because we were travelling to different parts of the country. One day, I spotted him in the hallway. Wanting to catch up on his life, I thought I'd walk him to where he was going. "Hey, wait up. Where're you going? I'll walk with you."
"I'm not going anywhere. This is my last day," he said with a grin.
I was shocked. "What?"
"Yeah, I was just in to see the boss. He asked me why I was leaving. I told him it was your fault."
"Oh no. You're kidding me. Why'd you tell him that?"
"Well, I told him about our conversation. About how you made me look at my life to see whether I was doing what I wanted to do with my life. And I wasn't. So I'm quitting this job to start doing the things I really love. Thanks buddy."
I haven't seen him for about two years now. When he quit his job, he and his wife started their own little roofing company. He likes working with wood. He used to be in the telecommunications field; now he's hammering shingles on roofs and building porches. And guess what?
He's happy."
Some are lucky enough to be able to do what they love while carrying on with their job
Some are lucky enough to quit their job and do the things they really love.
Here's a story I received via e-mail that might be of interest to some:
" I was sitting at a restaurant with a young guy who had been with our agency for about five years. He had a large home, a parking place close to the front door, and a brass nameplate on his door. Over lunch we started talking about the definition of success. I mentioned a Personal Mission Statement. He said he hadn't heard about the concept. To demonstrate to him how to go about creating one, I asked him what was important to him. He started naming all the things he wanted to do. Not one had anything to do with his job.
I was intrigued. "Well, are you happy?" I asked him when he finished.
He said, "Well, no."
I said, "But you're successful, right?" and laughed a little. He just sat there thinking.
I didn't see him again for a couple of months because we were travelling to different parts of the country. One day, I spotted him in the hallway. Wanting to catch up on his life, I thought I'd walk him to where he was going. "Hey, wait up. Where're you going? I'll walk with you."
"I'm not going anywhere. This is my last day," he said with a grin.
I was shocked. "What?"
"Yeah, I was just in to see the boss. He asked me why I was leaving. I told him it was your fault."
"Oh no. You're kidding me. Why'd you tell him that?"
"Well, I told him about our conversation. About how you made me look at my life to see whether I was doing what I wanted to do with my life. And I wasn't. So I'm quitting this job to start doing the things I really love. Thanks buddy."
I haven't seen him for about two years now. When he quit his job, he and his wife started their own little roofing company. He likes working with wood. He used to be in the telecommunications field; now he's hammering shingles on roofs and building porches. And guess what?
He's happy."
Thursday, July 29, 2004
Upward, forward, toward the sun...
“What was the most important lesson you learned from your Kinabalu experience?”
Tuan Haji Ismail queried as we both looked at a small picture of Low’s Peak – the highest peak on Mount Kinabalu – on a map of Sabah in another officer’s room.
I have always been pleased to share bits of my memory of conquering the highest peak in South East Asia – a feat I achieved together with 39 other office mates last year. An unforgettable experience which have taught me a lot of lessons in life
“I felt so tiny. Meek. There was this breathless feeling of floating above the clouds, the sun seeming so near, peeking out slowly behind half-grey cottony soft clouds, ejecting a stream of yellow pink light, the sky painted with an ever changing palette of purple, yellow, red, gold. And there I was – on top of it all yet I felt so small, basked in such beauty.”
Tuan Haji smiled. Other colleagues would have described similar feelings too.
“Other than that?” Tuan Haji further probed.
“Nevertheless at the same time, I felt as if I had achieved something great. Something unusual. Something a bit unordinary…”
(Okay – I know thousands flocked to climb up Kinabalu annually – but not every other person I’ve met have done it – so, it is still, to me anyway, something unusual. Sort of.)
“It wasn’t that easy. But only because we have been tested along the way up, we could really appreciated how magnificent it was to stand on the summit – and we knew we managed it only with Allah’s grace and will.”
Tuan Haji nodded quietly, encouraging me to continue.
“It wasn’t the highest mountain in the world. But right then, it sure felt like it was. And Tuan Haji, I believe that for those who felt as though they have conquered the highest mountain, the memory of that could help them in overtaking any obstacles, achieving any goals – because if they could conquer the highest mountain, they could succeed at everything else too – with Allah’s will, of course”
Tuan Haji smiled. “My dear, if everybody else learned what you did, then what you guys did last year would definitely be considered ibadah and not something in vain”
I returned his smile, suddenly remembering a quote I’ve read somewhere about how often our way is not made of soft grass, but a mountain path with lots of rocks. But it goes upward, forward, toward the sun.
I sure hope that Kinabalu Challenge last year brought most of the team members not only upward, forward, toward the sun, but more importantly - towards recognising the greatness of the Creator of the sun.
Tuan Haji Ismail queried as we both looked at a small picture of Low’s Peak – the highest peak on Mount Kinabalu – on a map of Sabah in another officer’s room.
I have always been pleased to share bits of my memory of conquering the highest peak in South East Asia – a feat I achieved together with 39 other office mates last year. An unforgettable experience which have taught me a lot of lessons in life
“I felt so tiny. Meek. There was this breathless feeling of floating above the clouds, the sun seeming so near, peeking out slowly behind half-grey cottony soft clouds, ejecting a stream of yellow pink light, the sky painted with an ever changing palette of purple, yellow, red, gold. And there I was – on top of it all yet I felt so small, basked in such beauty.”
Tuan Haji smiled. Other colleagues would have described similar feelings too.
“Other than that?” Tuan Haji further probed.
“Nevertheless at the same time, I felt as if I had achieved something great. Something unusual. Something a bit unordinary…”
(Okay – I know thousands flocked to climb up Kinabalu annually – but not every other person I’ve met have done it – so, it is still, to me anyway, something unusual. Sort of.)
“It wasn’t that easy. But only because we have been tested along the way up, we could really appreciated how magnificent it was to stand on the summit – and we knew we managed it only with Allah’s grace and will.”
Tuan Haji nodded quietly, encouraging me to continue.
“It wasn’t the highest mountain in the world. But right then, it sure felt like it was. And Tuan Haji, I believe that for those who felt as though they have conquered the highest mountain, the memory of that could help them in overtaking any obstacles, achieving any goals – because if they could conquer the highest mountain, they could succeed at everything else too – with Allah’s will, of course”
Tuan Haji smiled. “My dear, if everybody else learned what you did, then what you guys did last year would definitely be considered ibadah and not something in vain”
I returned his smile, suddenly remembering a quote I’ve read somewhere about how often our way is not made of soft grass, but a mountain path with lots of rocks. But it goes upward, forward, toward the sun.
I sure hope that Kinabalu Challenge last year brought most of the team members not only upward, forward, toward the sun, but more importantly - towards recognising the greatness of the Creator of the sun.
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
He should have let her go...
In the midst of the media buzz on two separate murder cases of one middle-aged prominent lady and an innocent schoolgirl, another murder case made the headlines in Malay mainstream papers today. A brainy and pretty 27-year old research assistant who was scheduled to receive her Master’s degree in genetic biotechnology was stabbed to death, allegedly by a jealous 23-year old ex-boyfriend.
Despite being good in Silat Gayung, Allahyarham Norzi Ayu was reported to be too weak from fever to defend herself well against the unforeseen attack. The guy was, after all, a force to be reckoned with - the two met during their Silat Gayung classes. Poor Norzi managed to scribble her Tok Guru’s phone number and some note for help on a piece of paper and threw it down the corridor. A woman found the note, quickly called the Tok Guru who straight away hurried to Norzi Ayu’s flat – but was unable to talk some sense into the raging ex-boyfriend’s head. The highly-strung guy locked himself & Norzi in her flat, stabbed on her abdomen and ran away. By the time the Tok Guru managed to open up the door, Norzi was found lying on the floor, bleeding profusely. She was quickly rushed to the hospital, but had lost too much blood and passed away approximately five hours after she was stabbed.
A tragic death indeed.
To think that bakayaro guy had at one time imagined himself to be in love with her... Then he found out that she was going to marry someone else, who, unlike him, met her parents’ approval. What was his next step? Did he respect her wish to be with the other guy and back off civilly? Or wish her all the best and hope they could remain friends no matter what? No – he went and kill her instead. So much for his so-called love.
I remember a quotation I read in some book (the title of which I could not recall) when I was in Form Three - “if you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it never was.”
How true.
He should have let her go. Of course it is painful to let go. Of course it’s difficult to believe that it’s over when he strongly felt that he could not live without her. But love must be given and taken willingly – not given through forced coercion or pressure.
Unfortunately the obsessive ex-boy friend just didn’t get that part of love – of letting go gracefully and wishing her happiness once she realise that they were not suitable for each other, that they were not meant to be together. The unnecessary death and the following heartbreaks of so many people – her family, his family (following his arrest), the new beau, their many friends - could have been avoided had he agreed to let her go.
A successful relationship needs two people willing to work at it – having one persistent partner paired with a reluctant one spells disaster. The guy should have known that it’s better to cut free of ties with her once she has shown her unwillingness, and move on to build healthy relationship with another. After all – there are still so many girls out there. He's just 23 - so many years lie ahead. There are so many fish in the sea – or ponds/lakes/rivers out there. He just need to let go, move on and find another. And trust that time will always heal his pain. And believe that when a door of happiness closes, another opens.
Instead, he let the possessive and obsessive streaks in him got the better of him. Stabbing her, killing her would mean that she would not be with the other guy. Since he could not be with her, he might as well made sure that nobody else gets to be with her too, huh?
In the end, by refusing to let her go – he succeeded in ensuring that it’s a lose-lose situation for all.
How sad.
Despite being good in Silat Gayung, Allahyarham Norzi Ayu was reported to be too weak from fever to defend herself well against the unforeseen attack. The guy was, after all, a force to be reckoned with - the two met during their Silat Gayung classes. Poor Norzi managed to scribble her Tok Guru’s phone number and some note for help on a piece of paper and threw it down the corridor. A woman found the note, quickly called the Tok Guru who straight away hurried to Norzi Ayu’s flat – but was unable to talk some sense into the raging ex-boyfriend’s head. The highly-strung guy locked himself & Norzi in her flat, stabbed on her abdomen and ran away. By the time the Tok Guru managed to open up the door, Norzi was found lying on the floor, bleeding profusely. She was quickly rushed to the hospital, but had lost too much blood and passed away approximately five hours after she was stabbed.
A tragic death indeed.
To think that bakayaro guy had at one time imagined himself to be in love with her... Then he found out that she was going to marry someone else, who, unlike him, met her parents’ approval. What was his next step? Did he respect her wish to be with the other guy and back off civilly? Or wish her all the best and hope they could remain friends no matter what? No – he went and kill her instead. So much for his so-called love.
I remember a quotation I read in some book (the title of which I could not recall) when I was in Form Three - “if you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it never was.”
How true.
He should have let her go. Of course it is painful to let go. Of course it’s difficult to believe that it’s over when he strongly felt that he could not live without her. But love must be given and taken willingly – not given through forced coercion or pressure.
Unfortunately the obsessive ex-boy friend just didn’t get that part of love – of letting go gracefully and wishing her happiness once she realise that they were not suitable for each other, that they were not meant to be together. The unnecessary death and the following heartbreaks of so many people – her family, his family (following his arrest), the new beau, their many friends - could have been avoided had he agreed to let her go.
A successful relationship needs two people willing to work at it – having one persistent partner paired with a reluctant one spells disaster. The guy should have known that it’s better to cut free of ties with her once she has shown her unwillingness, and move on to build healthy relationship with another. After all – there are still so many girls out there. He's just 23 - so many years lie ahead. There are so many fish in the sea – or ponds/lakes/rivers out there. He just need to let go, move on and find another. And trust that time will always heal his pain. And believe that when a door of happiness closes, another opens.
Instead, he let the possessive and obsessive streaks in him got the better of him. Stabbing her, killing her would mean that she would not be with the other guy. Since he could not be with her, he might as well made sure that nobody else gets to be with her too, huh?
In the end, by refusing to let her go – he succeeded in ensuring that it’s a lose-lose situation for all.
How sad.
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