4 Years and Counting

 

..and no, I’m not talking about boyfriends.

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Say hello to the Sony Walkman NWZ-B173F, who has been my constant (okay, maybe not that constant, but still) companion through the years. Never failing. Always delivering. And definitely more reliable than some of my exes, lol. 

 

It was early September of 2012, and I had just finished a three-month long summer exchange programme in the UK. Before leaving for our post graduation trip to Europe, I thought of getting an MP3 player for all the long hours we’d be spending on the bus. Back then, Sony had just released the NWZ and it was going for about 30£ (about RM150), so it seemed like a really good deal.

And guess what? I couldn’t have asked for more. Charges fast, super long battery life (I can play it non-stop for 8 hours a day and it still lasts at least 2-3 days) and at more than enough storage space at 4GB. I continued using it when I got back to Malaysia, but me being a klutz, lost it in the Cracks of Doom – that space in between the handbrakes of the car. This was in the middle of 2014 lol.

So the MP3 sat there, awaiting the day it would finally be freed – until a couple of months ago when I lost my house keys inside the crack, and my dad was forced to open it up with a screw lol. Out popped the Sony! I had actually forgotten all about it, so twas’ a pleasant surprise. Even more amazing – there was still battery in it when I pressed play, after TWO years. If that isn’t solid performance, I don’t know what is.

Ever since losing the Sony, I only had one other MP3 – the iPod Shuffle – which I got from a lucky draw. Granted the item was free, I still didn’t like using it because Apple is a bitch with ‘exclusivity’. It was super troublesome to transfer all the songs into iTunes and then to the device, instead of directly downloading them like with regular MP3s. You also can’t make ‘folders’ to sort out your music. I mean, somedays I want to listen to metal and on other days I want softer stuff, so not having the option to choose was annoying.

I was ecstatic at having my Sony back. These days, I listen to it everyday on the commute to work, being careful not to let it slip into the dark depths again. It just occurred to me that this MP3 has been with me longer than some people. It has been with me through three (ex) boyfriends and numerous life-changing moments. It was there playing Little White Doves, my ‘theme’ song on our roadtrip around Europe.  It was there when I broke up with CK, my high school boyfriend of five years. It was there playing Placebo’s Without You I’m Nothing while I bawled my eyes out after Matt dumped me and I felt like shit. It was there playing Another Love by Tom Odell, when I got dumped by a guy who shared the same name, after he had used and abused me.

But after each time with Sony, I felt better.

Music played a big part in pulling me out of my own darkness, and without the Walkman, I guess I would have been.. a little more depressed. Who knows?

Writing this, I realise that the MP3 player is a ‘constant’ in a life that has changed a lot in the past four years. My late teens and early 20s were a turbulent time. I was insecure, had low self confidence and made a lot of bad decisions that hurt a lot of people (including myself).

Things are definitely better now.

We associate so many things with memories, and they take on meaning because we allow them to. To others, this might just be an old, scratched up MP3, but to me, this device is an archive of sorts, a keeper of memories and a reminder about my past.

I’m sure if you check back in a couple of years, it’s contents will be really different.

 

 

 

 

Uncertain

 

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So if you guys don’t already know yet, I’m looking for a new job.

 

 

 

 

As some a-hole recently pointed out to me, and I admit he had a point, it doesn’t look good on my portfolio to be switching jobs again, when I’ve only been at my current workplace for less than a year. So why am I taking the leap again?

I’m a pretty chill person to work with (or so people say), so if I’m leaving, it must be because I have really exhausted all avenues and reasons to stay. Let’s just put it that way.

Anyway, I’m feeling a turmoil of emotions right now. On one hand, I really don’t feel like staying a moment longer, but on the other, I’m uncertain about the future. I have commitments that can’t be shelved for too long.  Of course, I trust my skills and my ability to land another job eventually…but what if I don’t? What if it’s worse than before? What if I can’t handle it? I know it’s useless to let these things drive you crazy, but sometimes it’s hard not to think of them.

 

I just finished reading Under the Dome by Stephen King (review up soon!), and am starting on an autobiography of the Chinese dowager empress, Cixi. I need to clear some books – they’ve been lying around for over a year, untouched. lol

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Was watching TV the other day and I was fiddling with a pen. There was no paper so I doodled on my knee instead. It looked pretty legit, passable as a tatt, after I slapped an instagram filter on it, haha.

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The day after, I doodled a hamsa. Would actually be pretty cool if I had a real one on my forearm.

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This is a real tatt lol.

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KL

Whenever one of my friends from overseas ask me which part of Malaysia I’m from, I always tell them I’m from Kuala Lumpur, even though technically, I live an hour away from it. That’s because it’s the most recognisable city in the region, and it’s always met with an ‘Oh, I know. The Petronas Twin Towers! I know that!’

Truth be told, KL is much, much more than that.

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Kuala Lumpur, the city of my birth.

There has always been something inherently charming about KL. It is a modern metropolis, just like Singapore, Milan, Paris. In fact, if you’re strolling through one of its malls, it’s easy to make believe that you are in any other city in the world: one where you can find your Bvlgaris, your Pierre Cardins and your Ferragamos. But unlike some cities, KL has flavour. It is an odd mix of new and old: the graffiti-scrawled riverbanks run right next to the century-old Pasar Seni and the British colonial train station, recognisable from a distance with its Mughal-inspired spires. Over in Pudu, which is just a stone’s throw away from KLCC, there are stalls that have been run by decades offering all sorts of delectable street food imaginable, their recipes handed down through the generations. While you wait for a bus at the shiny new bus depot, inhaling the smell of carbon monoxide fumes, you can always grab some keropok lekor from the Malay auntie who peddles her snacks from a makeshift shack nearby. You will still find old-world cobblers, tailors and custom-made everything in the nooks and crannies of KL.

But there are also seedy joints: where people like you and me might not venture to;desolate highway underpasses where the homeless and drug-addicted youths make their haunt – an underbelly lying just beneath KL’s ‘modern’ facade – away from its capitalist malls, clean streets, and 24-hour entertainment. You will find massage parlours offering ‘special services’, small apartments quartered and crammed with foreign workers, streets where you might get snatched, mugged or robbed despite police beats dotted around the area.

For good or bad, this is all KL.

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I have come to be familiar with some parts of the city. Driving down the constantly congested Jalan Tun Razak, I pass through what I dub the ‘moustache tunnel’ – because it has these patterns that look like a cartoon moustache on a stereotypical Italian chef. Emerging into the light, on my right, is the indomitable-looking US Embassy, all decked out in cinder grey and tiled orange roofs. If you head straight on, you’ll hit another part of the city; but take a left turn and you’ll eventually come to the icon(s) of KL: the Petronas Twin Towers. They rise up into the sky like two gigantic corn cobs, their windows reflecting the noon-day sun to create an almost glittering-like effect. It’s hard not to be awed, even though I see it often. And like an oasis in the middle of this concrete jungle lies a swathe of green, the KLCC park, which has become a favourite haunt for foreign workers on their days off

A couple of minutes away is the Golden Triangle, the very pulse of shopping in the city. Sometimes I like to stand in the corner between Lot 10 and Sungei Wang, overlooking traffic, and just soak it all in – the gigantic LED billboards flashing Malaysia Truly Asia ads, as the monorail runs across at intervals like some weird, mechanical caterpillar. But mostly I like to people-watch. There are loads of em’. Tall, short, long, brown-skinned, white, black, dark, honeyed, caramel-coloured, speaking in so many tongues it’s hard to keep track. There are women in black hijabs, clinging on to their bearish husbands, walking alongside Chinese girls in super short shorts and their hair dyed in a multitude of colours. There are hipster boys with slingbacks on skateboards, ogling at Converse shoes, their noses almost pressing on the clean windows, as they trot next to punk rockers and metal heads smoking cigarettes, wearing metal band tees, with their heads shaved and sporting knee-high boots with enough metal and silver to kill a horde of vampires.

When I’m tired of people-watching, I’ll trudge downstairs to Lot 10’s Hutong, located underground, where hawker stalls give you a semblance of ‘authentic’ street food amidst this shopping mecca. I always get the beef tripe noodle; it’s one of the best in town.

I’m thankful that at my (relatively young?) age, I’ve been to many cities around the world: Paris, Milan, London, Manila, Ho Chi Minh City, Singapore, Hong Kong, San Francisco, Los Angeles. And I say now that there is really nothing like Kuala Lumpur.

KL holds my heart, and I’ll miss it terribly when I leave.

It will always be home.

Last Day

 

What would you do if it was your last day on Earth?  

 

Just a random thought that crossed my mind. 

I’d probably spend it with my family, and tell them I love them all very much.

The me before was too caught up with work, thinking that I had to sacrifice my time and my weekends for the sake of the job. If my boss asked me to do something (even if it meant giving up time with family) I’d never say no, because I always thought there’d be a next time for the fam.  I spent certain ‘special’ days, like Mothers’ Day, working. And it’s something I regret, because the time I’ve lost with them will never come back. These days, family always comes first for me and I find myself much happier even if it means I don’t have that much money to splurge on things I want.

We never know when we’ll be gone. Things happen. The most we can do right now, at this moment, is to make the best of it and live a life of no regrets.

 

Love, and live. 

 

 

Also, this music video.

 

Bones

When lunar eclipses dawn.
His touches
like fire, like liquid,
like molten lava.
Devouring, devouring.

Boring holes in me.

Parting imaginary lips
Swollen from passion.
These tender bones are like
finely crafted glass
Lovingly shaped by hands
that no longer feel

 

*note: found this when I was looking thru old stuff. this was something I wrote back in 2011, when things were fked up with Matt. Funny how my writing then was at its rawest and most powerful. (perasan habis, but I’m entitled to an opinion, right?)

 

*note 2: the original last line was ‘Lovingly shaped by hands that are long dead and gone’. I changed it because it no longer seemed… relevant.

 

*note 3: I don’t hate you anymore, Matt. I just intensely dislike you.
Maybe the day will come when I’ll forgive you for throwing me into a deep well and sealing me in the darkness.

 

Maybe.

Of extravagant proms, hair and LRTs.

Woke up late today ! The feeling is great! XD
Read the newspaper while having breakfast, and came across this interesting article about high school proms in Selangor and KL.
“Some…spent over RM5,000 on their prom dress alone, while some guys rented fancy cars (one of which was a Hummer!) so they could pick up their dates and friends, and arrive at the end-of-school celebration in style.”
Whoa!
I don’t remember any guys driving Hummers to my high school prom. Hubs didn’t even pick me up because we haven’t gotten driving licenses yet.
Our prom was organised by students and was held at Cititel – each person paid about RM80 for it. I definitely didn’t know anyone who spent RM5,000.
Dress: RM100
Shoes: RM50
Buffet: RM80
Bag: RM30
Makeup: RM30
Accessories: RM20
Total: RM310
>.<
I miss my short hair. Should I cut it? I had this habit of chopping my hair off shorter and hsorter when I was in secondary school. Hubs once commented (before he became hubs): “Everytime I see you your hair seems to get shorter” xD
Pros of Short Hair: 
-Easy to maintain. I’d probably spend less than three minutes washing and rinsing my hair vs 5-7 minutes now. And mum would be so happy coz she says I take baths that last forever.
-Easy to comb. My long hair is always in a mess, I don’t know why. It just likes sticking up like Harry Potter’s hair. With short hair messy is good. 😉
Cons of Short Hair: 
-I’ve gotten used to long hair. I’ll bet my neck will feel naked without the hair to cover it.
-Hair is a great source of warmth when in air conditioned rooms.
-Hubby likes to play with long hair. What guy doesn’t?
Still have to decide.. I’m lazy to go to the hairstylist!
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