Contemplation..

The soft lights hit my hands

As I sit and contemplate..

Staring to everything but nothing

I wonder why the mind stays alert..

The mind plays tug of war..

Sings the broken record of my heart..

Fixing..balancing from afar..

Struggling to untie the knots that mar..

Though, of late.. clarity speaks..

Love unfolds in mysterious ways..

Leave behind its binds and pleats..

Lets me embrace its whole fray..

This is what I miss...

All this in our backyard - why should we ever take it for granted...

Absolutely beautiful.. just outside Toscani's in Kota Kinabalu, Sabah..


*Photo credit: Veena Rusli

Meet Joe Black

Love is a passion, obsession, someone you can't live without. If you don't start with that, what are you going to end up with?

I say fall head over heels. Find someone you love like crazy and who'll love you back in the same way back.

And how do you find him? Forget your head and listen to your heart.

Run the risk, if you get hurt, you'll come back. Because the truth is, there is no sense living your life without is.

To make the journey and not fall deeply in love - well, you haven't lived a life at all.

You have to try. Because if you haven't tried, you haven't lived...

Stay open. Who knows?

Lightning could strike.

On days away from death and destruction...

I read... ... still deal with my fear of heights.. attempt to build upper body strength..

And most important of all.. reflect..






























*Photo credits: YPL, TM

Wake up little Susie..

The other day I had a wake up call. Well not literally a wake up call, because it happened at one in the morning. But nevertheless..

It was a bittersweet one that can either laugh or.. reflect and take in the lessons that was shared.

I'm an egoistic one. For sure. I hardly get told off because I argue my way out of situations. And I refuse to listen, especially when it is the cold hard truth that is good for me.

But listen I did that night. And it rang it my head as clear as a church bell tolling on a Sunday morning. Literally.

And I did not argue my way out of it. I realise the whining and complaining I have been doing for far too long now sounds pathetic even my ears.

I have no right to feel sorry for myself. And neither do I have the right to demand.

And I can stop hoping now. And see what is real for me.

And on that note - I give you......darn, I can't upload the song.. email me and I'll send it you..


I love you man - thank you, I have not stopped laughing since..

Strip away the noise..

Nothing more than a local issue, someone said to me yesterday. No need to care so much, it doesn't affect us, said another.
The issue, I am referring to is the political confusion taking place in Perak, a state located along the coast of Peninsular Malaysia. I live some two hours south of this state and yet I feel the frustration. And while I do not represent the majority, I can safely say there are many other Malaysians who share my sentiments.
The "assemblymen" elected last year - assumed roles and change allegiances ever too quickly.
Details I shall spare the reader.
As a fellow citizen who believed in change (well, not always for the better), there was at least a tiny chance of justice playing up in the country - Perak offering the platform.

Sadly, no.

The principles of gentleman politics not practiced and the strength in staying true to one's stands - obviously not demonstrated - at the expense of our intelligence. Some say it is part and parcel of a democracy process which is maturing. I don't believe in abandoning principles for a richer coalition mature.

The fact that these powers that be, believe us to be docile, silent followers has to be proven wrong. Being ridiculed by politically correct manifestos and unfulfilled promises - when does it all end. March 8's tsunami-style polls results obviously did not possess the power that the dollar, sorry, the ringgit has.
What will?

Thai-style demonstrations - to compound to the depressed economic situation?
Or none - we sit in our comfortable shells and tune into cable (or free TV) for distractions.

You tell me.

One evening..

When spirits were down and thoughts were muddy.. the motley crew gathered for food, feast and fun.
(blurry effects intended..)






Digging into their feast, exchanging of thoughts,
feelings, emotions and plain gibberish..
(note that others decide to dig into, only, their
slice of pizza)





As the evening turned into night, monkeying around is requirement. (note the key player in Quattro's Winter Bar)










All in all, the smiling faces have it..













*Photo credit: Tim Mendoza
*Gibberish and laughter - Claudia, Tricia and Allan

Chilly but warm Seoul

It started out serious - ok I didn't look so serious..
but promise.. it was












Then the journey started...




filled with warm coffee, warm coats .. and very warm friends..

















A big thank you to our hosts - at the Korea Press Foundation - and the friends I have made.... It has been one of the more enriching experiences I have had as a working (and cranky) journalist.

Kamsa hamida!

*a big thank you to fantastic photojournalist Jimmy Domingo for all these wonderful photos ..

Of hot chocolate, whiskeys and windy beaches

Posing first before the long road trip














The long winding road.....









It was worth it - the view was spectacular - if only I could get the hair out of my face...






No - seriously, busking is legal in this country...

I collapsed

the other day at farewell drinks in a bar here. (no I was not binge drinking)

Strange.

The odd blackout spells felt somewhat peaceful.

It was as if you just fell asleep in them midst of the noisy chatter.

All is well now - no alarmist type worries.

Still - it is pretty out of the ordinary.

Thank you tho - to those who cushioned my fall

Notes after spring cleaning..

I found a post dated June 2007 in one of my many hidden folders - wondering who was the tiny favour for and why...

I take my small steps, I do not claim to know very much about life and its offerings. I do know one thing though, I am bless with friends that are more valuable than all the money in the world.

What binds us together is not the money, not the power and status that comes with the spending power we have, but the true fact that we know each other and we know each well, in ways that are strange to others.

I often get the notion that I do not behave like I should behave as my gender norms state it. I often get asked why I do not adopt the socially acceptable practices that my gender warrants. Often, I do return home with those questions in my mind, why I am not like the others.

I ramble incessantly, I speak with anger and passion and I care. At least for the little things that impact life. I spoke to someone who recently lost his loved one, in an awful accident, doctors said it was too critical and he could not be saved. That someone appealed to me, I could sense the anxiety in his voice, I could sense the concern and also the anger. He asked for a tiny favour, I pray that his problems will be solved soon.

I can’t say I can change his world for him, but I hope that I played a role in making it better and not reverse it.

It takes a certain type to do what we do. It requires us at the outset to shun all worldly wants and desires and to be content with what little we need, not what we want. It’s a long and winding road and the trail at present seems laden with obstacles, but, as long as we keep on walking, even crawling at times, we will reach the sunset. Rome was not built in a day, and the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

A message sent by a comrade in the same journey. I gain strength from this person, each time and every time.

I hold these words true to myself. Living with the ashes of reality is my belief, not living in a smokescreen of happiness.

I'm in love..

You've touched these tired eyes of mine
And mapped my face line by line
And some how growing old feels fine
I listen close for I'm not smart
You wrap your thoughts and works of art
And there hanging on the walls of my heart.

I may not have the softest touch
I may not say the words as such
And though I may not look like much
I'm yours.

And though my edge is maybe rough
I never feel I'm quite enough
And it may not seem like very much
But I'm yours.

You healed these scars over time
And braced my soul, you loved my mind
Your the only angel in my life
The day the news came, my best friend died
My knees went weak, and you saw me cry
Say I'm still the soldier in your eyes.

I may not have the softest touch
I may not say the words as such
And though I may not look like much
I'm yours.

And though my edge is maybe rough
I never feel I'm quite enough
And it may not seem like very much
But I'm yours.

I may not have the softest touch
I may not say the words as such
And though I don't fit in that much
But I'm yours.

*I'm allowed a rare emotional and poetic moment - it's a beautiful piece, credit to The Script

Ellen Goodman, journalist...

"Normal is getting dressed in clothes that you buy for work and driving through traffic in a car that you are still paying for - in order to get to the job you need to pay for the clothes and the car, and the house you leave vacant all day so you can afford to live in it."

Dust off those dancing shoes..

For the first time - in a long time, I partied like a rock star.

Ha. Exaggeration - rephrase. For the first time, in a long time, I went out dancing in a nightclub.

Stop - I can see you roll your eyes from here.

Arriving late - taking too long to dress up and dancing on the makeshift semi-platform all sounds recipe for a girl's night out.

The truth is - I took too long to dress because I felt t-shirts and Birkenstocks don't exactly cut it at a nightclub and also dancing on the makeshift whatchamacallit not really about being a poser in the club but honestly we had no other place to stand on the crowded dance floor.

These little revelations about myself made me think. I never particularly cared how I appeared in crowds (so long I maintained basic hygiene standards) and I never really gave a (hoot) where I should be positioned in the club - on dance floor, at the bar, by the DJ console?

Why did it matter last night?

I then realised being in that rather unfamiliar setting (hey, it HAS been that long since I've out of the cage), initially made me uncomfortable.

I have my reservations about crowds, I have my reservations about people that frequent clubs (of which all is better revealed in person) .. and the number of young kids carrying blackberry-s... (why? do they need to be in communication ALL the time?)

And.. and the cars that rolled up in the car park..

All that materialism shown - is it really important to have a flashy wardrobe and funky gadgets so you will stand out in the crowd?
Or it is important to say they "partied" all night but don't say they were among the many that stared nervously at the empty dance floor.

People hold back but yet want to be liberated.

People outdo each other on all counts but yet want to fit in.

Well - nothing held my mates and I back for sure - it was a dance like there was no tomorrow...
in 19th century wardrobe..

Chapatis,air sirap and dim sum

When I was in Standard One, my two best friends were a Malay girl and a Punjabi girl. I can still recall the long phone conversations I had with them after school. What would 7-year-old girls talk about for hours is one of life's mysteries.

Not only that, we hung out at each other's houses and talked some more and did what children did best - play. Not one moment did it occur to me that I was in a non-Chinese home or that I had chapatis for tea and drank "air sirap".

Fast forward to 2008, I am (ahem) in my 30s and my best friends remain - no, I stand corrected, the circle grew a little more - and now I have close buddies who are Malay, Indian and from mixed ethnicities or are confused. That is not the point. I still did not think twice about having Murtabak Singapura or banana leaf rice - so long the company is good. And the experience enriching.

These thoughts came to me when I read an article on an ex-Minister being quoted on creating Bangsa Malaysia. Whether it may be a popularity stunt or rhetoric, I felt that yes, rightfully said, race really does not matter. As idealistic as it sounds - surely we want the best for Malaysia and Malaysians. No denying that we are all selfish - we want to stand first in line when we collect our road tax rebates, we want the best restaurant service and we want to win the best awards. And when we do not get our way, we use the racial arguments to hide our sour grape attitudes.

The racial tone then, is stemmed from being selfish - not really racial at all. I'm no stranger to that trait - I am guilty of prejudices and ignorance too. While I can strive to change that streak in me (like in the article), can the rest of us too try? We always say we want to be different, but more often than not, we conform saying society made us behave this way and change is difficult.

Is really that difficult? I doubt it. I leafed through a magazine the other day, found a gorgeous Malay style house that I'd love to own. And as often as I can, I help a friend's sister decorate her family's Christmas tree during the December.

I want (and I believe many share my sentiment) to be different - and I want to be part of this change.

And....who cares if I speak English with a Kelantanese accent..:)

Of bus stop protests and beers...

It is that time of the year again.

Where you don your black outfits and yellow ribbons.

The last time we were in such a scenario was when The Sun ran into controversy eight years ago. We stood at Jalan 225, lighting candles and chatting away into the night.

The Candlelight Vigil for our fellow journalist and former ISA detainee was short, and sweet.

Despite the grumblings for the lack of numbers, many still showed up (and dispersed several times), and stayed while the police observed with exasperation.

Our dear colleague was released more than eight hours before the vigil - but yet we stood together. Well, yes, the tone was less serious and it turned out to be a good reunion of sorts - but nevertheless, I was proud to be part of the crew.

Even when the police gave stern orders to disperse, we did not budge, well, maybe a couple more feet in the opposite direction of the loud hailers and riot police (that too is newsworthy - what could journalists do, stab people with their pens?)




Anyhow, jokes aside, it did mark a rather tense period for the country - at least from my view. What scares me most is a small majority of shallow minded (or power hungry and overly ambitious individuals) exercise clout in the few words they say.

While the rest of us can watch, shake our heads, and let out sighs of frustrations.

Someone also joked about the lameness of a bunch of Malaysian journalists - likening us to softies compared with our Asian neighbours during protest rallies.

The South Koreans use steel pipes to clash with police, the Indonesians show their aggression with their numbers and even the Thais made a big chicken rice feast in the weeks outside Government house.

I digress.

I just feel that as much as you don't want to care anymore, you do. And you go to bed thinking (or maybe it IS me) if the political situation will fix itself or if it needs to undergo an ugly phase before the dust settles.

I'm keeping my running shoes by the door..


(pictures courtesy of Stania)

My Mind...

Procrastination Independence Manukan Island Boat Doctorate Sociology United Nations Mount Kinabalu Bangkok Discovery Red Sofa Starbucks Café SKII Asian Development Bank Cupcakes Technology Ruins Peace DNE Interview Producer Melbourne Trams Channel 31 Love Quiet Tyre Swing Coffee on a Rooftop Lorong 5 Glenmorangie Whiskey Rallies Helmet Beers in Tiong Bahru Leona Lewis Migration Nine West Useless Loneliness Guarded Hurt Dalai Lama’s brother turned CIA Translator Zimbabwe Regular Skinny Latte To Go Spinelli’s Barack Obama Sarah Palin Pain Heartbreaking Sobs Blue Skies Click Life in Boxes My Best Friends Pakistan Pilates Husband Pet Cat Authoring a Book Sadness Motorised Gadgets Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu Satin Broken Shoes International Herald Tribune Milk and Thistle Christmas Red Socks Mac Book Air Yacht Club in Sentosa Island Tennis Lessons Retreat Camp Robert Kincaid Secrets Empty Heart Trusts No More Miami Ink Looking for Love

It just doesn't get better than this..

The photos do not do the places justice



Who wants to remain










in the
concreteness of it all











when they can soak



















in the colours of life?



How do you detach yourself from the daily buzzes - to just find the simplicities to embrace?
Do you question the importance of the routines that pay for your designer drinks?
Or do you want to let it all go and find beauty in human spirit - I am finding the courage to do so.

Quiet nights and noisy thoughts...

"... it will all get better in time..."

Funny how the unexpected shows up and derails you sometimes.
So much has happened, forcing you to take charge...and hold your dignity.
They say life's lessons can't be taught.. they have to be learnt.

Beautiful moments remain beautiful.
Painful ones are easing away.
How you allow them to weave into your life, is how best you learn life's lessons.

I could not describe how beautiful some of those moments were..
And how painful they (sometimes) make me feel..
And how revelations (or not) hit where I am most vulnerable..

I neither claim I never saw those moments coming..
And I addict myself to its rushes and euphoric uncertainties..
I don't stop.. cos I don't know where I am going..

If mum knew what I was up to last night...

she'd throw her Japanese slippers at me.

Heh. No, this is not a juicy post, but rather a chance to vent my frustrations (along with many Malaysians) of the current political scenario.

I accompanied a freelance radio journalist friend to Jalan Hang Tuah where the said opposition bigwig was detained (freed at current point in time).
Being naturally nosy and itching for excitement, I got a chance to take these amateur photos at the scene.
A shot from the divider(standing underneath the shaky monorail), the police's Federal Reserve Unit stand guard.










While the group of supporters crowd around, amidst the hundreds of press photographers, camera personnel and journalists who jostled to get the best angles.









So I chose to stand next to the FRU line, should jeers or taunts turn into an ugly clash. At least, I thought, I would be facing in the opposite direction should the teargas guns fire away.
Plus, running towards the police station (located behind the FRU line), was the best escape route in my torn sandals.
I guess, more importantly, as I chatted with my weary-eyed friends tasked to cover this long night, the bigger question remains.

Why are Malaysians being dragged into this time consuming and time wasting tussle for power. As cliche-d as it will sound, priorities are misplaced and we forget why we push for transparency and accountability in the first place.

Were we misguided as Malaysians on March 8? Were we misled to believe that there could be hope for at least a better life as a Malaysian?
Idealistic, yes. I believe I am entitled to that, like the rest that voiced their rights that fateful day. And as a person who hates to rant and whine, could we not be pro-active then since the hope that March 8 brought seems to be fading..

I turn 31 this year. I want to be able to tell my friends from other countries that while Malaysia is not perfect, it is home. It is colourful, exciting, slow at times, but it has soul.

But the current spare of events in the past month is embarassing, and disappointing. What can we do as Malaysians. Close one eye? Or both. Do we make plans to pack our lives into boxes (again) and live in places not called home? Or do we carry a placard and holler for our "voices" to be heard (again)? I'll ask Oracle when he distributes flyers in the Ss2 coffeeshops.

What do we do?