Sunday, 4 August 2013

How Women Prioritize

The difference between most women and men: We women will more than often drop whatever we're doing to be with our man. Squeezing in time for our significant other is a no-brainer.

...but apparently men don't function the same way.


Friday, 14 June 2013

The Food Enthusiast

Firstly, I'm no food enthusiast. I just like the sound of the word en-thoo-zee-uhst. I'm just a plain old food junkie. Well, for starters, I think I have an insatiable interest in food, which qualifies me as a junkie, particularly desserts. My boyfriend often mocks the way I passionately describe any good food I just ate. If only I could explain about my job in the same manner, my boss would be ecstatic.

For the past week, I've had several rounds of satay, chicken porridge and 'burger-tepi-jalan'. Not your healthiest choice, but since I'm feeling the pinch lately, cheap food has never tasted so good!

Enough ramblings for now. Later!

Tuesday, 11 June 2013

Kau Bila?? (When's Your Turn??)

It is nothing but a norm when an Asian mother (particularly this one is Malaysian) asks her unmarried 3-decade-ish-year old daughter "Do you have a boyfriend?", "Does your boyfriend want to marry you?" and in times of desperation, due to peer pressure (read: office makciks, relatives, neighbours and probably the nosy old lady who owns the sundry shop down the street) might result in the issuance of a memorandum that reads "If the current one runs off due to any circumstances, please accept the next man who asks your hand in marriage. Failure to comply will result in an ARRANGED marriage. This is your last warning. Love; Queen Mother."

Yes, I know Queen Mother only has my best interests at heart. But which man on earth would wanna marry at gunpoint, so to speak? Zilch! Neither would I, if I were a dude! Don't make me ask him, and neither should any of you. 

"Don't you wanna get married and have kids?" they wonder. Over, and over, and over again.

Sigh. Well of course I do.

If only marriage was as easy as buying pumps at Charles & Keith, don't you think I would be wrestling with a bus-load of kids I call "my children" by now? And because raising a child costs an arm and a leg nowadays, I would probably depict the life of 'The Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe', having so many children, I wouldn't know what to do. I feed them with broth, minus the bread, and whip them them all soundly, and scream "Go straight to bed!".

The old woman is missing a husband. I'm pretty sure he ran off, obviously not with the spoon, but he definitely made an exit. Or maybe, just maybe, for the sake of positive thinkers out there, he deserves the benefit of the doubt. His absence [in this nursery rhyme] is merely because he cashed in his chips. How sad.

Anyway, steering back on course, I'm in between complaining and making a moo-point here.
People, you've got to stop throwing me the "Bila lagi?" or "Kau bila?" questions. I know not the answers.

How about making doa for me, for a change? That will definitely render some answers to your calamitous questions. :)

Monday, 10 June 2013

When They Call You Fat

Indeed, I am an emotional turd.

I am moved by the slightest acts of kindness. I become sappy every time I watch a video of a dog rescuing its owner from under a heap of rubble caused by an earthquake. My eyes glistened with tears, after watching a 12-minute video on YouTube about a former PlayBoy Bunny who embraced Islam. Her story is overwhelmingly inspiring.

I cause my nose to clog with mucus when I watch movies like The Pursuit of Happyness, Titanic, The Holiday, He's Just Not That Into You, Valentine's Day... the list goes on for a mile, but I think you already get the idea by now.

Sometimes the smallest of things throw me down in the dumps, or rile me up like Chewbacca being stabbed in the eye with a chopstick. Mockery on physical appearance get's me flipping my wig. I reach boiling point in less than 10 seconds; whether it is aimed at me or at another individual.

Apparently we live in a world that highly endorses fair porcelain skin, dimple-free thighs, washboard abs, a perfect set of pearly whites, long silky hair and having lots of junk in your trunk scores you more points, hence throwing personality to the back seat. Too often the word 'fat' or having dark skin exude a negative connotation, constantly used to revile women (well, most of the time). Sad, but true.

I'm not saying that I don't scan for eye-soothing qualities in a guy, I do, of course. But I just keep physical attributes that I don't fancy to myself (Well, I try, very hard. Sometimes it slips from my mouth, only to a close friend). OK. Go ahead, judge me. We're all judgmental, aren't we?

And I'm not implying that one shouldn't lose weight or exponentially morph into a whale. By all means, lose weight to stay healthy, to live longer, to be able to catch up with your impish grandkids when you age, but not to please the world. On a spiritual note, God doesn't care if you have a ripped body. Cliche indeed, He only sees the beauty inside His Believers. But we humans just find it very difficult to glue that holy fact to our minds.

The physical-name-calling, will there ever be an end to it? I doubt it, and that sucks. You can't stop someone from calling you fat, or fish-lips or oinky-nose. Probably they are just insecure about themselves, which resort them in mocking other people, and it makes them feel elated, in an ill-mannered way.

It's a cruel world they say, but there's always more good than bad in it.  There are more kindhearted people then there are of those with a beastly demeanor.

So, I guess I'm calling off my table-flipping agenda and celebrate those who bring joy to this world and to my life instead. Cheers to that. :)



Monday, 27 May 2013

The Art of Not Giving A Rat's Ass

If there's one thing that I should start mastering, it should be 'The Art of Not Giving A Rat's Ass."

Here's why;

I can't please everyone. 

No matter how hard you try, there will always be that one person who will give himself the liberty to underline and italicize your slightest boo boo or imperfections. He'll say it's 'constructive criticism' that should be taken with a dash of salt.

I say it's a stomach-ulcer flare-up agent.

Hey, don't get me wrong. A slice of well-delivered constructive criticism is indeed essential for one's personal growth. But ceaseless unsolicited, ill-timed constructive criticism? Tell me that doesn't feel like you've been bludgeoned with a demotivating mjolnir. Destructive criticism, more like.

If I can't pull the plug on the depressing hammer, then I should just put my iron suit on, and chant the lyrics to the song Titanium.

Wednesday, 22 May 2013

So Many, So Little

I haven't had the time to sit down and arrange my thoughts to be put on my blog. Too busy? Not really. I just have so many things to say. Too many events sailing in and out of my head. And so little motivation.

I hate it when ideas come flowing in while you're on the throne, or when you're chowing down that handsome burger or when you're in the middle of a butt-scorching meeting with your boss.The ideas just dissipate the moment you flush, burp and told that s(he) wants to jab you in the face all the way to Vegas for not executing the job accordingly.
 *The direct translation is "Aku nak tumbuk kau sampai Vegas." Metaphorically. So no worries.

Oh, and I left the lazy part out didn't I? Yep. I keep going on and on about not being motivated to do this or that... Damn man. Even I feel like jabbing myself in the face. That's just too many excuses for one puny matter.

So, anyway, people say that no matter how many truck-load of books you read, you still won't be able to be a great writer if you don't cough out your ideas in writing. It takes practice. And I need a lot of practice. And that sucks. Do you see the pattern here? I'm on the verge of another justification.

Well, it's 7.00am here in Kuala Lumpur, my car is still dead in the workshop, and I haven't showered yet.

Yeah, Helga. I'll tell you about that later. Probably when I'm not battling an army of evil chocolates that perennially breed and eat my candies!

Thursday, 7 February 2013

The Heart, On Standby

I knew that this moment would come.

This is the moment when your heart feels like it's on the verge of cracking. It's at that familiar place again. And you're on standby mode to hit the panic button, where the walls will shoot back up again, and seal all doors.

Wednesday, 30 January 2013

The Little Hijrah

[ 1:1 ]

A string of things happened, and I didn't have time to update everything on my blog. Some probably too personal, and even if I tried to tell you about it, it wouldn't make utter sense anyway.

I never finished Part 2 of my little hijrah. I didn't know where to start, but since I'm at it right now, I might as well just keep it rolling, huh?

I struggled. A lot.

My prayers (solat) and my attitude towards covering up was a bit of an emotional roller coaster ride. Too many resistance at one point, but I managed to muster all of my courage and put things into place, with His help and a dear friend's encouragement, the Al-Quran became no more of a stranger to me. It's a long ride, and I'm not even half way through, but I've got Him to 'hold my hand', and I've never felt safer in my life than I am today.

Al-Hamdulillah... :)