Self crisis

Over a dinner conversation recently, my dinner companions and I chatted excitedly (or less to some) about luxury purchases.

A little too generalising, some may opine, but the purchases seem be a catching trend among individuals in a certain age group.

One companion had immediately likened the buying spree to a response to "mid-life" crisis. I personally thought these purchases were gender specific.

But, I do not judge people for their behaviour patterns, it interests me to note this "phenomenan", a term to justify the act of purchasing.

I find that mid-life crisis is not gender specific, with purchases like the branded tote bag, Manolo Blahnik shoes or a facelift surfacing as hot topics amongst women.

I thought of taking this to another level.

Perhaps theory of self could be reason enough to explain why people behave the way they do.

How after different phases of life, people think about paying more attention on themselves, their needs and wants.
It does not necessarily have to be material items, I just got word of a 40plus person keen on pursuing psychology courses, driven by keen interest.

Then again, I know of many and not differentiated by age, who splurge on spas (ahem), holidays (double ahem) and expensive skincare (aha!).

Would that be term as mid-life crisis. I wonder.

Maybe it is not a crisis to begin with. It is evolution of one's self, at different stages of his and her life.

Change (positive or otherwise) is to be embraced, I think, not scorned or brushed off at the first instance.

In the meantime. I will wait patiently for a free joyride in that luxury vehicle. Ha!:)

Facades.

This concept played in my head after a late night, long conversation with an old friend.


fa·cade /fəˈsɑd, fæ-/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[fuh-sahd, fa-] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation –noun
1. Architecture.
a. the front of a building, esp. an imposing or decorative one.
b. any side of a building facing a public way or space and finished accordingly.
2. a superficial appearance or illusion of something

Why do people do it?

source: dictionary.com

Standing up

I know. I should be sleeping. But I can't help it.

Something came to my mind. (ok. I know)

In the last 12 months, it has been a very interesting journey, in the course of meeting people, either professionally or otherwise.

I must say there is a better sense of clarity I feel now then 12 months ago. Amidst the deadlines and clutter I often (bring) encounter in my life.

One thing I did learn about is that it is difficult to leave comfort zones. I am fortunate to have little attachments that influence decisions for change. And nights like this I reflect on why I did not make my decisions earlier.

Regardless of that, I have to say that having kept to what you believe in for 12 months, years or significant periods of your life is tough.

I must say that I have met many, who have sung different tunes to suit the moods and played fans to different camps, to fit the selfish (unselfish?) purposes.

Not judging. Just reflecting. Perhaps also having the time off allows me to see things a little clearly and to take off those rose-tinted glasses I wear occasionally.

I might not have driven that luxury car, or purchased the fancy condominium with the sexy postcode.

But, I have made my decisions with a (rather) clear consience and with integrity, something I still believe the profession holds close to its heart.

And I continue to be driving my radio-less vehicle and living in what I make out as my own personal space.

Binge thinking...

This came up over an online chat with a close friend. It's similar to the lemon saying, when life hands you lemons you do some thing funky with it. (Or if life hands you a bottle of unopened Chivas Regal, you try and try again)

I had a lecture from a girlfriend many nights ago about the wrinkle lines I create for myself. I think too much some say, one person even coined up the term analysis paralysis to describe the syndrome of most. And mind you there is scientific term coined for this syndrome - binge thinking. How people overdo it due the many possibilties that offer themselves in this book we call life.

Yes, I have closed one chapter and am moving on to the next.

Anxiety first, excitement follows next.

I think those who are close to me are tired of hearing it and tired of consolation and conversation. I apologise. Profusely. I could do this alot better as I learn and unlearn. But without the support, I would be suffering from post binge thinking. No?

I confuse as much as I ramble.

But I DO want to thank you (you know who you are) who have played a significant part in my life, from the late night chats to the online conversations. I can't say enough that these bonds are very meaningful in my life.



Disclaimer: Picture is for illustration purposes only. For the record, the bottle was left unopened and disappeared from the hands of this blogger. Honest.

Sometimes

A good cry helps
A broken sob eases
The frailty

Feeling empty
Blackness despair..
Waking up to nothing

A quiet moment
Broken tears..
Sad, sad songs

A simple hello
Smiles to greet
A how are you.

A hug
Close, tightly
You're not alone.

Plan B

and humility.

Sometimes I feel I get ahead of myself.

What's that mantra again that I keep telling myself ..

*Close eyes*

*Sits in lotus position*

*Think of Plan B*

Of papers, ethics and Habermas...

This is the "aerial" view of my bed currently. That orange bit in the corner is the pasar malam shorts I don each night as I sit and synthesis all these words for my last project for Graduate School.

I sleep with the papers each night, I don't mind, my only peeve is that the words do not translate into synthesised ideas much needed to graduate.

Sigh.

But I like coming "here". And two things I want to do. First to reflect on the unique way the world works. Second.. we will get to the second in a bit.

Ten minutes before this post, I received a call from an industry contact on whether it was feasible to stop presses on a particular "incident" took place outside Malaysia.

I am using cryptic terms, to maintain my no-name policy, for reasons I will explore in my second purpose of this post. Please bear with me.

Back to the story, the industry contact received instructions from the head honcho for fear that the accident, if published on the front page of a publication the next day, will paint a bad light on for investments in the general industry. It is obvious here that the accident, which led to several fatalities, had impacted this industry.

As a journalist, using my rather jaded news sense, if this instruction was well-thought as this incident obviously has news value in it to be posted in public domain. Issues of such high level newsworthiness do warrant attention, debate and action.

It puzzles me each time when I hear of such suggestions. I do not believe that I am of any different standards than the average person. A resounding hmmm is warranted at this juncture.

Anyway.

As part of school assignment, and also for healthy thoughts, the rationale behind cryptic languages on a blog should explained. In the last couple of months or so, I have sat through many coffeeshop and academic-like chats over ethics and blogging.

As both a writer and semi-regular blogger, could I have been a little more accountable in naming names or do I used my blogging license to write as I please.

It is a horribly dynamic and fluid world - this thing we call cyberspace.

Has it resorted to a degeneration of the public sphere or is it an alternative idealised public sphere as explained by German philosopher, Jurgen Habermas.

Why degeneration? Because it is so free and fluid that accountabilty and responsibilty over public reporting take a backseat. Virtually anything and everything can be posted here.

Is that a sign of a progressive society or are we discussing nothing really substantial in the first place?

Or has the world become flat, as American journalist, Thomas Friedman points out, where information flows freely guided by a different working standard or ethics from before the advent of the Internet.

Food for thought.

For once…

For once is there a chance for me to ask, for nothing but support, for nothing but a shoulder to cry on..

For once, can someone come here and dry these eyes, hold my hand, show me the way…

For once, can you tell me not to give up, tell me that I fit, tell me that I am human…

For once, can the questions stop, the strength wanes, the shoulders can break.. and the tears can flow freely….

For once, I can’t hold up being different for long, I can’t battle my strengths again and again.. I can’t hold my own.

For once, can someone please listen?

It's 2 in the morning

And the tears are pouring and I want to make worth the night...

Ahem. Nice improvisation ..no?

Having completed one part of my project, I had the pleasure of reading Joan Lau's "Labels, layabouts and those ladies who lunch".

I must say she beat me to it. No. Not claiming the first rights to discussing this topic, but I had wanted to blog about people and judgements, and pigeon-holing people, after a nice quiet dinner at a popular bistro in Bangsar before I had a chance to read Lau's piece.

My dinner mate and I watched a group of ladies enjoying a bottle of champagne and we echoed similar thoughts of not belonging in that restaurant. We watched more diners stroll in, kissing on cheeks to greet and loud giggles that originated from a lady that clearly did not mind others listening on her chatter.

I thought to myself, why are these people so pretentious, or what seemed to be like pretension as least from the way I understood it. Could I have been able to laugh dramatically over petty dinner conversation or could I wear that slinky little black dress to draw attention, admiration or gossip.

I thought I couldn't. I immediately "boxed" these people in stereotypes that I have in my head. The girls drinking champagne probably are not paying for it out of their own pockets, the loud chatter is sounds of dramatic, flamboyancy that could very well be shelved for a quiet nite and the slinky black dress was fit into after weeks of dieting on super shakes and water. (ow)

Upon reading Lau's article, I must say it made me catch my breath. I am quick to dislike those who stereotype me, my gender, profession and choice of music, but I am so equally quick to stereotype others in perceptions I have conditioned myself to believe in.

Is this fair? My bumper sticker has the saying to the effect of treating others as you would like to be treated (It is 2.30 in the morning and I can't for the life of me remember it's exact words).

Would I want to be treated the same way I treated those champagne drinking girlfriends.. or be scorned for looking attractive in the slinky black dress.

I guess not. I suppose you would not to..:)

More interesting finds..

"On the mountains of truth you can never climb in vain: either you will reach a point higher up today, or you will be training your powers so that you will be able to climb higher tomorrow" ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

Digressing

I love my circle of friends.
I love how I learn almost each moment I'm with them. Phrases, ideas and kinky concepts thrown in for giggles.
First, I decide to list new words I've learn during a 3 hour drink and laughing session.

1. Cadaver
Meaning:-
a dead body, esp. a human body to be dissected; corpse.
(Interestingly enough... this is different from that night's conversation)

2. Bi-curious
Meaning:-
Someone who is bi-curious does not identify as bisexual, but usually identify as heterosexual or homosexual, in most cases as a heterosexual person, and are curious about having sexual intercourse with the opposite gender that they state their preference as.

3. Inebriated
Meaning:-
an intoxicated person, a habitual drunkard.

4. Genuine
Meaning:-
possessing the claimed or attributed character, quality, or origin; not counterfeit; authentic; real
(I already know the meaning of this one, but apparently Scrabble lets you score 50 bonus points if you finish your tiles! I have been living in the dark ages for too long now)

5. And.. something to do with peanuts.....hic.

*Source: http://www.dictionary.com, Wikipedia

Time

is really a precious commodity. I didn't realise seven years or more flew by. As I put away the bottle of vodka, the dead plant and the dictionaries (I am still missing a calculator), I reflect on the stories behind the paraphernalia that clutter my journalist table.

I had prayed for change long hard over the last year and it is here at my doorstep.
Somewhat hard to believe, perhaps I have been living in a surreal phase in the last four days that I finally made the decisions that I made. Somehow when change is imminent, it feels a little more awkward to embrace.

Cold feet? Some might say. But if change is needed for rebirth and a recharge, change is what I have to embrace.

So many chapters have gone by, some closed, one nearing closed and others to open. Exciting, no?

Somehow with this open canvas I have in front of me, I am excited and nervous at the same time to hold the different paint colours to start fresh.

I need to calm down.

I don't like

being here when I'm upset. Or if I do end up here upset it's usually disguised.

I often tell myself that being thick-skinned is both an advantage and occupational hazard. But for once, I couldn't.

Frankly, I don't get why judgements are so important for people to feel secure about themselves. Assessing, grading, benchmarking, surely there is a point to the whole process? No?

Decisions are hard to make in the first place, but petty judging is worse. For a long time I have not been bothered with other's opinions about my choices, senses, decisions and taste for cheap cigarettes.

Inhale, they say, inhale the good and exhale the bad.

I suppose in one way, reacting often stoops me low as those who petty judge, who assess my abilities and even gender. Yea, the weakness of my gender. No?

In the meantime, I'm going to hunt down the person that stole my calculator at work. Pftth.

I know..

I should be sleeping at this hour, seeing how the bloodshot eyes looked right back at me at the mirror earlier. .

But, I needed a distraction and found a common theme amidst inspecting my wardrobe earlier.

I really need to get new pants. And several pairs at that, mind you.

Other than the one that has a hole from a manhole fall, (it wasn't my fault, the manhole should not have been there in the first place), the rest also suffer from some sort of defect.

After close inspection, I realise that these pants, some as old as 8 years, needed to be replaced or ragged. Other than the usual wear and tear (one of it had to be ragged due to a bad fall after chasing the former Transport Minister on 3 inch heels.. yes, I know, journalists do NOT wear heels, but I was such a greenie then), the one common feature was the wear at the side of the left leg due to the constant contact with my strap(on, ahem) laptop bag.

Anyway.

I don't know if it is about maintenance or the lack of it in my life, or some could even say the lack of care for appearances. I don't know, maybe I'm not big on appearances or maybe I selectively care for whatever hangs in my closet. I swear, if not for that spring cleaning imposed by the lady of the house, there would be alot more (90s) gems in there that could be pulled out for today's wear.

I guess, my point is that, there are days when there are bigger issues to contend with and there are days when the RM148 hairdryer purchased from KK meant so much to me. Ok, ok, the two BCBG dresses at a 50% discount were also a steal. :)

Things are about to change, I believe, and it's not about having new sets of pants in my wardrobe.

And, I must admit here in this space, finding the courage to push oneself further is one of the tougher challenges anyone had to go through. I figured, if I can keep at it, I can really work on life's aspects closer to my heart. Focus, clarity and patience. Patience is the one I lack most.

Pants to patience.

Something worthwhile to consider.