Oh baby baby, how was I supposed to know.
He says: Which magazine do you think has the best writing?
I say: I think Time magazine is one of the best.
He says: Okay, so every morning when you wake up, you have to think, ‘Today I’m going to write as well as Time magazine does.’
I say: If I can do that, I wouldn’t be here, I’d be there.
He says: And why not? You should aim to [tell your boss], ‘Goodbye, I’m going to write for Time.’
Wise words. Not sure what my boss would think about it though, especially when he hired the consultant.
Night three in the guest room: I am starting to like it here but I still want my bed back.
An elderly man almost got mugged in front of my office a couple of days ago. He’s like the fourth or fifth snatch theft (almost) victim we’ve had on our street in the last year. Two guys on a motorbike pulled a knife on him and demanded his mobile phone. It was around 7.30pm and the man was just getting out of his car. The would-be robbers fled when the man honked for help.
People are really getting desperate. What you see in the newspapers, depressing as it may be, isn’t the half of it. To pull a knife on an elderly man just for his mobile phone is pathetic. I hate that we don’t feel safe and I hate that there’s nothing we can do about it. Even the cops told us so. Nobody’s going to prosecute these guys and there are simply too many cases for them to process.
I blog from the guest room, having been unceremoniously downgraded because hubby has taken ill with viral fever. The doctor says it could even be dengue or measles, the latter of which would mean hubby is contagious.
I feel as if I have a headache but I don’t know if it’s just my mind playing tricks on me. A colleague is also down with measles.
For everyone’s sake, I shall quarantine myself at the first sign of a fever, but for hubby’s sake and my own, I hope I’m strong enough to ward off any viral attack. Actually, I should hope it’s nothing more than a viral fever.
I’ve been wanting a massage since doing the 10km in December, but didn’t actually get round to it until last Friday. It was much-needed. Perhaps even I didn’t realise how much. You see, at the beginning of this year, I said I wanted to challenge myself. Even as I thought it, a little voice whispered, be careful what you wish for. I heard the voice and went ahead anyway.
Now, with April fast approaching, I can honestly say my wish has come true. I have been pushing myself, doing lots of thinking, exploring, experimenting… and in the midst of all that, I’ve forgotten to relax. In the eagerness and determination to think big dreams and make the most of every day, I have forgotten to allow myself to just bum. It was only a matter of time before I got too uptight, and I guess that time is now.
If I’ve been pressuring myself too much to do more, to be creative, to be productive, to plan, to write, to think more, even to relax – and relaxing under pressure is not really relaxing – then it’s time to stop and take a break. And that’s what I did. Only I intend to make a habit of it from now on. I’ve been off-kilter and it’s time to centre myself.
I remember going for a massage in February last year and thinking I should treat myself to one every three months. That didn’t happen – my next one was in November if I remember correctly – but it’s not going to stop me trying again this year.
I also intend to start exercising regularly. I reckon I eat and sleep fairly well but for all my talk and good intentions, I haven’t really been working out. And I do so like the idea of staying fit.
As for my constant need to feel like I’m doing something productive, I have accepted that while it’s a good thing, it’s a habit that works best with a balanced dose of bumming. It feels as if I have forgotten the art of emptying my mind and taking time out to do and think about nothing, which is surprising for me, but I’m learning more and more about myself every day.
Yesterday night, on a whim, Bec, Josh and I ditched our plans for a movie and went to a fish spa after dinner. It was my first time, Josh’s too, but looking at Bec you’d think it was her first. She makes this really weird high-pitched sound into her towel when she first puts her feet in because it’s so ticklish. I thought the experience was pretty interesting but it’s made me want to go get a massage instead.
Apparently this year’s crowds were significantly smaller than last year’s. Y and I wouldn’t know because this was the first time we’d taken the trouble to rise early on a Saturday morning and head down to PWTC. At 9.45am, there was already a whole heap of people queueing for their admission tickets. If this is what the MATTA Fair looks like during recession, I don’t want to be there when the economy is booming.
Am currently in the midst of planning a few trips for the upcoming months. We’re thinking Phuket, Beijing and Tioman but details are yet to be finalised. The older folks may be spending less but AirAsia is simply too tempting for those of us in our 20s. Or maybe it’s just my colleagues and me.
Speaking of crowds, IKEA is impossible on a Sunday afternoon. You wouldn’t believe there’s a recession looking at the number of people in there. I could barely walk! This kid with a mini trolley charged at me and his mother didn’t even try to stop him. I stepped to one side just in time. An onlooker shook his head disapprovingly.
SPM results were released yesterday and I’ve been hearing all these horror stories that make me question if our next generation of teens are ruined. Mother-in-law told me about neighbourhood kids who cried their eyes out because they’d scored 10A1s and 1A2, about parents who put their children down in public because they’d scored “only 9A1s.”
I was shocked. Brother-in-law, who takes the exam later this year, shed some light. The aim is to achieve straight A1s. It doesn’t matter how many you get, as long as you score a single A2 or – God forbid – a B3, your results are moot. You are no longer a “straight A1 student.” Everyone, he tells me, is very kiasu (translation: afraid of losing out) about it.
People think Chinese schools are competitive but I was from a Chinese school and I tell you we have nothing on these kids.
Who or what makes them think anything less than an A1 is a disaster? Why are kids crying their eyes out over results any sane human being would be proud of? Whatever happened to, “As long as you try your best, daddy and mummy are right behind you and support you”?
It’s insane, really. And I can’t help but wonder if the same kids who care so deeply about their grades care about the other (more) important things in life. Strength of character. Integrity. Selflessness and concern for others. Being grateful for their many opportunities and privileges. Because from what I’ve heard, it sure doesn’t look that way.
What kind of message are their parents sending? Did you know that in some schools, you can “bribe” clubs and societies for perfect attendance so your school record looks better when you graduate? Except it’s not called “bribing”, as I was informed, it’s called “helping.” Funny, when cops ask for a bribe they use the same word too – help.
“If you had to choose between having the best results or being known as the person with the best, most upright character,” I asked one kid. “Which would you choose?”
Here’s the scary part – she couldn’t answer the question.
Him: You always destroy everything of mine that you use.
Me: That’s not fair! Name one thing I’ve destroyed.
Him: …
Me: Go on! Name one thing.
Him: If you had driven my car and gotten into an accident, you would have destroyed my car.
Me: ??!!
This would be even funnier if I hadn’t wanted to kill him.
Since getting home at 4am Saturday morning, I have spent the following 37.5 hours resolutely at home, save for the 2 hours I spent eating out last night. It’s a 3-day weekend and I’d had big hopes for a great couple days with hubby, who I’ve really hardly spent time with in the last few weeks. But he had an all-day thing yesterday and we had a fight first thing this morning and so all those hopes have gone to moot.
At first, I was furious. How dare he spoil my plans for a nice, relaxing long weekend? But having had a chance to calm down, I realised this was a good time after all. The last thing I want is to go to work with a quarrel looming over my head. I’d rather sulk and fume in the privacy of my home, thank you very much. And what better opportunity to think long and hard about marriage and the future than a couple of days with nothing planned?
So that’s what I’ve been doing all day. Just me, my laptop and a bunch of movies for company. In between scenes I jot down thoughts and delete them, write blog posts and twitter updates and then erase them all. Writing has a wonderful way of clearing my mind and organising my thoughts, though I’ve always struggled with putting my darkest musings out there. I am a much more private person than I’d like to think.
I parked in a disabled parking lot two days ago, the first time ever that I’ve resorted to doing that. Someone later came up to me and said, ‘I don’t think you should park there,’ and walked away before I even had a chance to look at him, but I’m not offended – I’ve often thought of doing the same to others.
That day, however, I did it because for some reason, half the other levels in the parking lot were blocked off and I couldn’t find a spot anywhere else. Even then, that wasn’t the clincher. I was at Mid Valley to watch a movie, I was driving a Honda CRV by myself and I knew I would be leaving at almost midnight when the rest of the shopping mall would be closed, dark and deserted.
I’ve received enough forwarded emails about snatch thieves and robbers even in shopping centre carparks and I decided that if it came right down to it, I would rather be safe and take the only spot I could find near the entrance than park two or three floors below and wander down there unprotected at midnight.
I hate that I don’t feel safe, that I heard of two people getting their windows smashed and their bags stolen in three days, and that I made the decision to park in a disabled lot. I hope nobody really needed the spot that night.
In the same vein, I feel terrible that I often ignore the nice Malay architects that work in the firm a few doors down because we’ve had numerous snatch thefts on our street and the thieves have taken to prowling the area dressed in work shirts and slacks (they even have lanyards!) so people are less suspicious of them.
I can never recognise the architects and so I never say hello because I’m always too busy wondering if I’m going to get mugged. But the other day, I saw a guy come out just as I was walking past so I said hi. I’m convinced they think I’m an arrogant brat.
Do you think I’m being too paranoid about safety? Would you risk a right decision over a safe decision?
