Intimidation

noun
1. the act of intimidating a weaker person to make them do something [syn: bullying]
2. the feeling of discouragement in the face of someone's superior fame or wealth or status etc.
3. the feeling of being intimidated; being made to feel afraid or timid
4. a communication that makes you afraid to try something [syn: determent]

WordNet® 3.0, © 2006 by Princeton University.

Current favourite song ..*evil grin*

Before He Cheats, by Carrie Underwood

Right now he's probably slow dancing with a bleach blonde tramp,
and she's probably getting frisky...
right now, he's probably buying her some fruity little drink cause she can't shoot whiskey...
Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool-stick, showing her how to shoot a combo...
And he don't know...

That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive,
carved my name into his leather seats...
I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights,
slashed a hole in all 4 tires...

Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.

Right now, she's probably up singing some white-trash version of Shania karaoke..
Right now, she's probably saying "I'm drunk" and he's a thinking that he's gonna get lucky,
Right now, he's probably dabbing on 3 dollars worth of that bathroom polo...
And he don't know...

That I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive, carved my name into his leather seats,
I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights,
slashed a hole in all 4 tires...

Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.

I might've saved a little trouble for the next girl,
Cause the next time that he cheats...

Oh, you know it won't be on me!

Ohh... not on me...
Cause I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped up 4 wheel drive, carved my name into his leather seats...
I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights,
slashed a hole in all 4 tires...

Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats.
Ohh.. Maybe next time he'll think before he cheats...
Ohh... before he cheats...

A late night message

I had a late night tinkle on g-talk the other day, from a journalist friend, soon to be former journo, based in Bangalore.
This journalist came online to share a message with friends from all over the world.
Moved by the gesture, I'd like to dedicate the message too, to all those who matter to me.


"One fine day, all of us will get busy with our lives, long working hours, no more meetings, discussions about girls/boys,friends, and no SMS."

"Won't have time for ourselves. On such a day, you will look outside your window and see the good old memories flash by you and you'll smile with a tear in your eyes."

"You will turn back to your work thinking I wish I could go back. To all my friends who helped me in creating such memories...Love You."

Snaps of the moment

This post is drawn from inspiration from Paula Guevara, a Filipino friend I met through Ling.

Reading her posts on random mobile phone images, it amuses and interests the curious to the mind behind the neat gadget.

I thought I'd share my homemade photo album. Enjoys.

*One of the many black and white postcards I collect on my random visits around the world. Picked this up in tiny bookstore, in Soho, London

*At chef & brew, heated debates on wine, men and audition videos.. not necessarily in that order

*On a chilly night in a sidewalk cafe in Bandung


*It's cute, it's hairy. And it doubles up as a CD case. Hedgehog courtesy of Acid.

*And, er,the gallery. For those who know, it is undergoing a revamp. Watch this space!:)

Of coconut trees and flying kites..

Word often go around, a break from routine welcomes freshness to the mind.

Did just that, over weekend in Kota Bharu. Most reactions I had received were looks of puzzlement, surprise and cynicals.. but why?

It is a beautiful town, like all towns in Malaysia, a tad optimistic, na? I think not. I suppose when the mind is a empty slate, colours of the varied kind can be painted upon.

As an urbanite, living with 24 hour stimulation of the technological and monetary kind, I find the slower pace of life a welcome change. I can't say I can live such, but I appreciate it a lot more.

Kota Bharu, not bustling like Kuala Lumpur or Ho Chi Minh, but busy just the same. Different trades, enterprises and colours paint this town. As a state governed by an Islamic based political party, I find that perceptions of outsiders are often influenced(wrongly?) by the different media driven by self-serving agendas.

I found it refreshing, warm and as a senior political writer terms it, outback-ish, although I had begged to differ.



From my little time spent in Kota Bharu, extremist sentiments I did not experience, awkwardness of being a different race and colour I did not feel.. It was refreshing.





*Photos courtesy of fellow traveller and photogapher, Yeow Pooi Ling

Don't go far off..

A serendipitious find, from a year ago from a close confidante

Don't go far off, by Pablo Neruda

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because
I don't know how to say it:
a day is long and I will be waiting for you,
as in an empty station when the trains are parked off somewhere else,
asleep.

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because
then the little drops of anguish will all run together,
the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift into me,
choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;
may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.
Don't leave me for a second, my dearest, because
in that moment you'll have gone so far I'll wander mazily over all the
earth, asking,
Will you come back?
Will you leave me here, dying?

Pricks..

I didn't realise it hurt. I guess often the foolish ways of mine I forget prick others.

I'd like to call it an occupational hazard (LOL) having to listen to people's concerns, issues and arguments on how things should be fixed, work it into material that should provoke change and make a difference.

I forget sometimes emotions are involved and that others are human too, like myself.

I hurt her and I'm sorry. I saw that it stayed with her for so many years and I've not realised that it still impacted her. Wearing the hat of the question-eer, I asked, one, two many times. She did not like it. She did not want to accept that it had happened and I do not blame her. It was an awful decision, she was only 7 when it happened. I do not see any fault of hers to react this way to the decision.

Closure, some say? I doubt. I do not see it.

I guess it hits home when you have encounters like this, often we act impulsely, savouring the spontaneity of life, living the moment as they say, but often it hurts.

As righteous as I believe I am, I am not.

I often live as I wished, making impulsive, spontaneous decisions, so much so to have the adrenaline rushes, embracing the joys that life offers.. often which, hurts.

A year ago today, she revealed herself to me, I was sick for days, in contemplation, in awful contemplation of what was revealed.

Wake up little Susie. It's time to wake up.

I should have thought of this earlier..

CLARITY

*Courtesy of "A Beautiful Revolution"

I could not resist ...yet again...

I have bought a shiny gadget

* This blog post courtesy of "A Beautiful Revolution"... more under "Check Them Out".. ... Hilarious!

Orgasmic...

And I'm not talking about the ice-cream........Happy sigh..

Mo-blogging..

Stepping on the edge...

I have a phone...


Watch this space!

Veronika Decides to Die..

I am about to close the chapters on Paulo Coelho's, Veronika Decides to Die, and it interests me that reasons often exist for the littlest things experience, feel and do.

Trivial to some, I find life's tokens, blessings and teachings comes in forms and sizes usually unexpected.

I purchased this book huffily at the airport terminal on the en route to crinkle free trip to Bandung and Jakarta early one morning. I was to leave the house at 4am for this flight when my chartered ride did not arrive.
Hastily finding an alternative, I'm grateful for the ride to the terminal, amidst trying to calm my nerves. However,sore was I, as I had left Paulo Coelho's Portobello's Witch at home. A book I had eagerly wanted to read as the synopsis had enticed me days prior to the trip.

I was mad at myself for having troubled others, mad that I wanted my crinkle free break to start out right, mad that the beginning of my break was turning out to be sour.

Months before deciding on this form of escapism, knots inside me were tightening.
It is true what people tell you about recharging, applying the brakes, and putting a stop if you've had enough.
I felt very much all that, to points where I wanted to stop even trying. Wanted to sleep with those pills and not wanting to open my eyes again. Low spirits, having very different dreams, aspirations, ideals, values, I felt I didn't fit in life anymore.

I depended on this source of escapism more and more .. I needed to run the status quo, I wanted to hide from the usual questions and brush all the usual disappointments under the carpet..

Standing in the bookshop of the low cost terminal, I saw my second newly purchased book, with the words Decides and Die attracting me to its sypnosis. A story about a girl, who had everything in the world, deciding to die, after realising that there was no reason for living... The story starts this way, but ends rather differently..

In the book, the unveiling of her uniqueness, the pecularities in the circles she keeps, the different desires she was exposed to.. and the surrendering of herself to the very passion that in the end drives her living soul... struck me .. hard.

One glaring viewpoint was the issue of normality. Veronika ended up in a mental institution as her behaviour was categorised as abnormal.

Truly, really, what is normality. I argued long windedly with an Indonesian journalist about societal's norms and "acceptable" social behaviour. He asked me a question that opens a kaleidoscope of views.. Is there a universal acceptance of what is normal in society....
I wanted to differ for what I've been conditioned to believe as societal's norms,may not be norms after all.

We dissected this question, only to leave ourselves more boggled, questions to whether norms are just a way of life accepted by a large number of people or are they a set rules to follow... what about the minorities, what about the differences..
To lift from Coelho's writing, one questioned that if the hands of clock were designed to move in the opposite direction, would that be considered abnormal..

My escapism to Indonesia provided me with my questions than answers naturally,and in a usual long-winded, roundabout way, I find that amidst all my knots and tightening screws in my head, there are reasons.

Reasons to why the ride didn't show up, to why I left my things behind and to why Veronika entered my life the way she did.

It reminded me that I have to catch my breath, hold on and let go. Actions often I avoid for fear of losing, hurting and experiencing disappointment.

While it is nice to realise the irony of that very feeling of life is encapsulated in writings of another, it drives home a point that life is very real, with or without the clock ticking in the right direction.

And then there was three...

Three.. whoopsee doo. If there is such a word, I'd use it more often. Although not as "learned" as some words like virufication, which is awkwardly pronounced, it raises the eyebrow to find it printed in reputable publications.

I digress.

Three. I have not forgotten about my list of Ten. Having shot at everything but the target at a recent outing in the Sungai Besi army camp, I had the opportunity to try out two more items on my own, not the Casey Kasem Top 40 list, but my own small ego boosting, narcissistic list.

Martial arts. I had the chance to try out a class with the dear friend who was very encouraging. It was my first attempt at learning the Wong Fei Hung slides, poses and very "cool" stances.

Initially thinking it was a slow paced class, I decided to keep my mind open and stood in the drizzle with the other brothers and of course, the grandmaster. We started off with the salutations, this is a branch of a grander style Kung Fu, of which I have yet to find the English translation to, nevertheless, I must say.. it was ..... rock on! My favourite phrase in the last couple of months since the shooting trip.

Anyhow, the master taught me the differences in punches, from jabs, uppercuts and hooks.. and ahem.. I must say so myself, he pointed out to me that although my jabs needed some work, I was doing fine (for a first timer), with my hooks and uppercuts. Fooyoh!

The conversation about physical strength and Kung Fu came up over breakfast and wine one night and another dear friend points out that men, being physically stronger or for some reason or another, find it easier to execute strong punches,.. she and my Kung Fu pal looked at me funny... And concluded that indeed, it was strange that sifu found my punches to be strong.
The two decided that I was indeed turning into a bloke, after I admitted I could not talk and text message at the same time while struggling to walk on a gravel road in my two-inch heels.
Very funny, guys.

I digress.. again...
Martial arts is certainly fun, but more importantly, it reminded me how important discipline is... .. I promise, soon, I will commit to Kung Fu soon..

I said three, right. Mandarin is what I promised myself to learn. I moved one step closer to the fulfilment of this item on the wishlist. Picking up one of those language CDs from the bookstore, I decided that I will commit to listening to it in the car, or on my green iPod nano. Commit is the operative word here. Nevertheless I take pride in the fact that the language CD is not in the store now but in my room, waiting to be downloaded and appreciated. Ha!

Three. Well on my way to fulfilling Ten.

No sleep..

Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night, feeling as it your heartbeats are unusually fast.. you pant... panicking as if the room will close up on you... your claustrophobic fears slowly engulf you....

Brr..

Well.. it didn't happen to me so dramatically.. but I can relate to that.
I did wake up one night, feeling that way. I thought I was going mad. Or that that third cup of coffee was working overtime.. I then talked about it at work one day and someone used the words anxiety attack, that perhaps it was an anxiety attack.

Strange.

I hardly take these things seriously, for fear of being labelled as a drama queen, as paranoid and overreacting. But.

These nights didn't exactly stop... In fact when insomnia crept in.. I wondered.. could these caffeine striken corridor chats bear some semblance to truth.

As my clock ticks towards the ams, and the nights grow quieter while I lay awake.. Hoping I can turn my thoughts off, hoping that I can get some rest before the day begins again..

Maybe.

Anxiety is a big word.

Breathe Susie breathe.......

Worn out shoes, broken key chains and Xanax

I take a slow drive tonight. I heave a sigh of tiredness. Thinking back, physical exhaustion was
source not of my sighs and dark rings.
"What is?" I ask as I stopped at the red lights.

Slowly walking to the corners to find quiet, solace and peace, my chain of keys fall to the ground, into pieces.

I stop. I realise. The worn out soles, the expired music machines, the broken keys.
I said to myself, "They break in my hands, as I busied chasing my dreams."

I penned moments hours earlier. I let out much earlier. I ask again. They break, they fall apart, they are not important?

I penned more morbidity earlier. Talked about slips away, words of living stopped captured. Stop, I said, stop asking, stop caring.

These words keep me awake at night, these words keep thoughts alive. She says anxiety, she advised tranquility.

Triviality to some. Nocturnality to others.

I want to. Turn off. Switch off. Shut down.

Perks and pecularities

Something rung in my head the other day after a long lunch with an old friend. This friend has just left the journalism fraternity to join the corporate world.

As I continue to jibe him about wearing cufflinks and a tie, he smiles and points out that the cheapest ties he can find from the shops close to his new office was priced at least a hundred ringgit.
I told him, today, he has to step out of his journalistic shoes and view the world from a different glassbowl.
He readily agreed, saying that working in the corporate world gives him a completely new perspective.
Gone are the days of flexible working hours, the numerous tea breaks and the cigarette time-outs. Gone also are the days of wearing tattered jeans and your favourite Hard Rock Bali t-shirt to the office.
Welcome to a world where attires are pressed neatly, collars straight, and stiff suits prevail. I reminded him that the lucrative package offered should buy him a nice tie.

As we laugh off it, he shared with me about his colleagues, and once again remind me how people are driven by very different things.
It never fails to amaze me to read the wonderful chapters of the societal pages, the colours that define our human cultures, behaviour and etiquette in the world we live in.

My friend opined that his colleagues, some barely in the workforce for three years, were driving luxury cars, wearing designer brands and carrying designer goods. A father of three, with over a decade of journalism experience, he shakes his head with disbelief.

His quote, “I guess journalism exposes us to different things, and I’m ever grateful for that experience”.

This last phrase before we went separate ways, rung in my head.

I can’t speak on the behalf of others or those in similar professions in similar environments, the stories we hear each day, make us laugh and cry, in shame, with joy, expressed in multitude of emotions.

I sit quietly when a tsunami survivor tells her story, as she tears and explains the devastation, I laugh when I hear a philandering doctor climbing out of his clinic window as fuming wife chases him after finding out about his other “close female friends.”

While having no prejudices for other industries, lifestyles and professions, a journalist myself, I find that it constantly makes me question, the drives behind the material goods, the motivation for the different lifestyle choices, the care for different status and perceptions people keep.

Like him, I am no different, I enjoy comfortable living, I have my indulgences, and occasional splurges. It is difficult not to sound judgmental, but it always fascinate me how different things mean differently to others.

I watch as my girlfriend delicately handles her new branded handbag, while at the other extreme, I listen intently to a friend who struggles to keep his medical commitments and filial responsibilities.

I watch as my own father washes his brand new car on a daily basis, and I listen as my mother tells me the stories of how she gives away her pension to help someone make ends meet.

Looking at my five year old pseudo four-wheel drive with a busted radio and my tattered shoes.. I say…….life is wonderful.

Damaged souls..

Restlessness creeps in
Doubt engulfs your soul
Still mad, still upset
Questions lingerin...

The expectations, the desire
For want of more
For want of fulfilment
Curiousities encroached..

Quiet tears fill the night
Amos' words ring in your ear
So sad.. it's like a good book I can't put this...
Day bad.. A sorta fairytale with you...

Ride alongside you....
Ride... ride.. till you lost me....... on the open road...

Not ready to make nice...

Forgive, sounds good.
Forget, I'm not sure I could.
They say time heals everything,
But I'm still waiting

I'm through, with doubt,
There's nothing left for me to figure out,
I've paid a price, and i'll keep paying

I'm not ready to make nice,
I'm not ready to back down,
I'm still mad as hell
And I don't have time
To go round and round and round
It's too late to make it right
I probably wouldn't if I could
Cause I'm mad as hell
Can't bring myself to do what it is
You think I should

I know you said
Why can't you just get over it,
It turned my whole world around
and i kind of like it

I made by bed, and I sleep like a baby,
With no regrets and I don't mind saying,
It's a sad sad story
That a mother will teach her daughter
that she ought to hate a perfect stranger.
And how in the world
Can the words that I said
Send somebody so over the edge
That they'd write me a letter
Saying that I better shut up and sing
Or my life will be over

I'm not ready to make nice,
I'm not ready to back down,
I'm still mad as hell
And I don't have time
To go round and round and round
It's too late to make it right
I probably wouldn't if I could
Cause I'm mad as hell
Can't bring myself to do what it is
You think I should

I'm not ready to make nice,
I'm not ready to back down,
I'm still mad as hell
And I don't have time
To go round and round and round
It's too late to make it right
I probably wouldn't if I could
Cause I'm mad as hell
Can't bring myself to do what it is
You think I should

Forgive, sounds good.
Forget, I'm not sure I could.
They say time heals everything,
But I'm still waiting


*From Dixie Chicks, Taking the Long Way

Adrenaline... rush!

Unbelievably fantastic! As cheesy as it sounds, it was fantabulous. Being able to exercise one of your top ten to do things for the year blows your mind!

I'm talking about being able to shoot a real gun, with live bullets and being in army camp, soaking in the explosive gunshots, drills and strict military instructions. And to have pictures to prove it really rocks on!

Awesome!

Adrenaline will wear off shortly, and the Valley Girl talk too. But I must say taking part in the Armed Forces Media Day changed perceptions, open minds, and was a whole lot of fun.

Starting the day early at 630am, no one knew what to expect. Having zero experience with guns and live ammunition, we were given the quick rundown of how to use a weapon, choice of the M-16 or ACR Steyr. As a newbie, I was advised to use the Steyr, lighter, easier handling (so they say) and a scope to help aim at the targets.

Being a natural klutz, my practice session saw me shooting at the hills, around the target but not at the target. Clearing bullets from the shell of the rifle was a task in itself requiring strength I did not possess. Yoga sessions at the gym is not working as fast as I would like it to.

Safety was priority at the sessions, with each contestant aided by a minder, helping you load you weapon clear it and ensure the safety lock was on and that you do not point the gun at her or at your colleague standing right beside you.

Crunch time came when we were assigned teams and rivals. All geared up, with ear plugs in place, Steyr in the right hand and magazines held by my minder. We ran 50 metres towards the canvas where we took our positions, aiming at the metal plates 100 metres away. Clinching the weapon close to my shoulder, squinting to get a good aim........and pulling the trigger. Nothing happened. I tried it again, getting help from my minder to clear the barrel, and took position, aimed again, nothing happened. Argh! I thought to myself, hearing the explosive shots all around me I felt I was going to be the reason for the team to lose. Grr. After a few seconds of fiddling with the rifle, my minder confirmed that the rifle was jammed. Jammed? I thought it was my natural klutziness that led me to this nail biting, tension mounting moment. Argh. Soon it was time to pull back the weapon, check the safety latches and step out of the shooting area.

I contented myself with the fact that I got a chance to practice and fire a few rounds in the wee hours of morning of this eventful day. But disappointed with the fact that it didn't happen for me.

Nevertheless. Redemption (of the ego) is good for the soul, so they say. I headed to the open area, where I got my first taste of being in an army personnel vehicle. It was exhilirating, exciting, being sandwiched among fellow colleagues and taken for a ride, more exciting than any theme park ride I could remember trying out.

Pushing my hair out of my mouth and from my face, clearing mud from my cheeks much later... I say, it was AWESOME!

Crinkle-free

Lists are fun. This is post #2 on details of unnecessary information
I am full of myself, once told, something I am not necessarily proud about. I rather be termed bull headed or stubborn, giving in rarely to exchanges that do not always drive home the point.
But I am also human, like the 6,499,999,999 people in the world today and will embarass myself at some point in life.
Things that make me go.. .."darn ...that was embarassing..."

1. Having fluff on my skirt
2. Getting into the wrong car... ahem
3. Misquotes
4. Listening the old man's jokes
5. Watching the old man inspecting vehicle tyres not of his own in a workshop
6. Splitting pants in yoga class
7. Having breakfast wearing your favourite top worn inside out
8. Insisting harpischord is an instrument
9. Losing at scrabble

Nine. I can live with that.:)