Tis The Season For..

I was driving to work today, when I spotted two cars in front of me swerving wildly. A Myvi was trying to overtake a Viva from the left, trying to inch slowly past the guy. Now, usually, that's a really 'biasa' sight. And other drivers usually mutter "Dat fucker.." under their breath when the hustler passes by.

But the Viva (or, the driver of the Viva) apparently had a really bad temper too, and started blocking the Myvi's path in erratic little swerves and jerks, refusing to let the Myvi pass. It was so obvious the Viva was doing it on purpose.

As they went down the road, with me maintaining a cautious viewing distance, the Myvi finally managed to pull up side by side with the Viva and the driver wound down his window and started shouting and waving wildly at the driver of the Viva.

The Viva sped off, and the Myvi kept chasing at his heels. I really wonder if the driver of the Myvi really was supposed to go on that road or if he just wanted to hunt the Viva down.

Temper temper. It ain't the season for giving.

But I'm guilty of raging rants too.

Case in point - yesterday. I rushed home madly from work to expect a delivery of the godawfully expensive mattress I bought from Macy's. At 6pm the delivery guy calls me and says he is stuck outside as the guards informed him that no deliveries are allowed after 530pm.

The requisite female pleading ("just please let him in, how am i supposed to carry such a heavy mattress alone?") failed, apparently those fucking Myanmarese guards don't have eyes nor dicks. So I stormed down in a blistering rage to the guardhouse to give them a piece of my mind, which included me saying -

"So you're saying if I load the mattress in my own car, I can bring it in?"

"Yes."

"Ok, so I own this fucking lorry, I am going to drive it in now."

"No no you can't." (which apparently is the limit of their vocabulary)

"But WHY? This lorry is mine, this mattress is mine, I have the pass card! The rules here state that no external deliveries only!"

"No no, ini bukan saya punya masalah, ini you punya masalah."

To which I got even more infuriated and proceeded to lose my temper even more drastically.

I am not racist. But I discriminate against stupid people. Sorry la, if the majority of stupid people work as security guards.

The only way I could discernibly console myself was that at least I make 5 times more than them and there is a reason why I can afford to live alone in the 4-bedroom apartment while they work in security for the place I'm living in.

My children will be wearing Guess Kids while they have to scrimp to buy just one new outfit for their ten kids for Chinese New Year or whatever celebrations Myanmarese guards celebrate. They also get to throw their ego around in such a small pathetic universe called "Security Guard in Condo", but be my guest, because I'll be doing something far better.

And no, I didn't want to save that breath to cool my porridge.

But that's the end of the rant, I can go celebrate Christmas without thoughts of hatred and voodoo dolls now.

Amen.
-------------------------
"Dear, I officially tell you now, I changed my mind about staying in condos. I want to stay in a landed property next time. Preferably a bungalow. No neighbours."

He chortles because we've been locking horns over this whole condo versus landed property issue for ages. He's been a bungalow/terrace house boy, while I've lived in condos for most of my life.

Well, at least something good came out of this. We resolved one more longstanding issue that was blocking me from entertaining ideas of living together eventually.

*grin*

Jangan 'Kao Peh' Here

This morning I came to work after a very busy but surprisingly rejuvenating weekend catching up with friends and making arrangements for my emcee and 'chi mui' stint this weekend.

Logging into the company homepage, I glance through the Announcements page. Bla bla.. internal job vacancy.. blu blu... which department had what annual dinner theme. Honestly, it is time to go when you get annoyed by an Announcement titled 'CRM's Night of Crazzi Colors 2009'.

I mean, you people need to learn how to spell, so we can move forward with taking this company to another level.

So I quit the job.
----------------
Sitting in the room on a Sunday, wracking our brains writing lyrics for the song we're going to perform, Nerd Boy and I are amazed at what we both are willing to do for friends.

Like I was telling my grandmother two hours before that while snacking at her kitchen table, "I won't emcee or perform for anyone other than for a reallly good friendship! Which means more than 10 years or very very close ones I've made recently!"

Eh, singing a song in Hokkien is painful okay. For a person who makes it a point never to utter the words 'lim peh' and 'kao peh kao bu'.
----------------
Capon tried to stiff Superhero today.

Superhero taruh balik kao kao.

Sidekick duduk dan tonton aje, asyik fikir alangkah baiknya kalao ada popcorn.

Eat That Rap

I am irrevocably, incalculably fucked.

As of now, it is still unclear why I agreed to emcee my high school friend's wedding. Apparently in the haze of jubilations, I also suggested that we perform a rap song (with rewritten lyrics) in front of 500 guests.

So.

A week away from the wedding, I'm sitting here youtube-ing all the rap songs I can think of. Which as far as my songlist and knowledge of songs are concerned, there are only two rap songs in this universe.

"Gangsta's Paradise" and "Lose Yourself".

I tried singing Lose Yourself to Babi Guling but he said I sounded like I was having a stroke and gasping for air. A message came through the internal messaging system from somebody sitting in the rooms to "pleaseeee... stopppp...."

Did I mention already how screwed I am?

Maybe I should sing Zee Avi's 'Kantoi'.

Some Were Meant To Watch The World From Windows

Some were meant to color history, engrave their names in time.

Others were meant to watch the world from windows, with a passion as great as those fighting their wars in the world, but for the heavy weight that holds them captive. Leaning on the ledge, promises of glory and honour entice the wary observer, the ultimate reward for the brave.

Between jump and don't jump, doing it and not doing it, therein lies all the difference in the world. There may be harm in action, but worse outcomes stem from errors of omission and inaction. The omission may be simple, easily overlooked, underestimated, even. But for want of a nail, the battle was lost.

~Written by me, April 2008~

I have been here almost three years. I've stumbled badly, scraped the proverbial knee, but with the help of a close-knit clique here, I learned to laugh when things were going wrong. The people here became my anchor; for better or worse, I grew attached to them.

Because of my mother's experiences, I learnt never to stray too far from the sidewalk in case I got hurt.

But because I met these people, I learnt that it's okay to hurt. I watched their world from my window, hoping to learn from them. And I did, many a lesson they taught me. Over time, they taught me to be brave.

Over time, I learnt that watching the world from windows meant I might learn from example, yet be deprived of the experience.

In the time I was still trying to find my footing on the window ledge, Superhero guided me gently, letting me run on my own, yet always being near so he could prop me up when I stumbled. Mata Hari taught me not to take things so seriously, and Babi Guling toughened my sensitive hide with the most god-awfully demoralizing jokes.

The time seems to have come to leave the comfort and shelter of the window ledge. It helps that there is someone down below, someone I've recently met, beckoning to me. I don't know that person well, but I'm energized by his belief in me, that I am ready and this is something I can do.

-----------------------

I've gone through enough in these 25 years to know that because I'm a person, not a machine, I need time to heal. So I got up, said my goodbyes with a smile, and left. Pointless to stick around when you're feeling awkward. Unlike most girls, I don't need a guy to buffer me or back me up in situations like this. You're your own person, so fight your own fight.

But it still wasn't something I could stomach comfortably yet, so I left. It IS that simple. Being on this earth for so long, it's something I know will pass in time.

So I walked away thinking that everything happens for a reason, and someday, I'll be glad I learnt this now.

Veni

It's hard, leaving things to chance. When you know you only have one life and one shot to make it work. Because as Marc and Angel put it, when our hands and minds and hearts work together, magic happens. And as long as you believe in that, you continue wanting to put yourself out there to push the boundaries.

The fear that you might feel, but in that fear, is exhilaration. The feeling like you're truly living.

Knowing that there will be long nights, and hard work, and an even steeper learning curve, and more difficult clients, and that some nights you will feel like quitting. Yet despite knowing all that, you still step out and head there anyway, with nothing but blind trust that you will make it in the end.

Thinking to yourself wryly, "Everything will be all right in the end. So if it's not all right, it's not the end."

Wish me luck, I feel like Caesar going on his Veni phase, minus the knife in the back.
-----------------------
This aspect of my personality tends to manifest in other areas of my life as well, for example, the arena of Christmas present-giving between couples. I really don't want someone else to waste money on something I don't use. Past experiences have usually been fine, but with a new guy and all, especially one with a dubious sense of taste, I'm not taking any chances.

Me: So what am I getting for Christmas?

Him: Of course I'm not going to tell you.

Me: Hmm, is it a bag? *chews on grapes while lying on back staring at the ceiling*

Him: Can you please not guess?

Me: But guessing is fun!

Him: Leave me alone!

Me: No, I won't! If i leave you to your own devices, you will end up with something purple and furry and think it's the new black. By the way, I don't want a watch.

Him: *growls*

Me: *turns to look at him and pops the last grape in my mouth* You mean I'm getting a watch?

Him: Can you stop!??!?! *exasperated*

the kuih revolution

Some of my deals involves our team working with certain government departments. My team member asked me out of the blue about something he heard about them people.

Him: I heard that their meetings are full of kuih-muih (Malay for 'cakes / pastries')
Me: Yeah. Everytime there's a meeting, the secretary will call everyone involved to get the headcount, for her to order kuih.

Like wtf, go run the country or something. Or help your bosses run the country.

It's like a sick Marie Antoinette joke - Let them eat cake.
---------------
Once I finally joined the Blackberry revolution, there was no turning back.

Among others, part of my daily routine now includes reading my bank's daily research morning calls while driving on the way to work. Berry in my left hand, with the right hand on the wheel, both eyes glued to the screen and letting my peripheral vision pick up any closely looming vehicles.

One piece of interesting news this morning is that Goldman Sachs is the latest in the string of banks to get a license in Malaysia.

I Bchatted Superhero in jest -

"If you join them, take me with you. Tell you first."

Lol. But honestly, something big's been brewing lately, unfortunately my tongue needs to stay silent for the moment.

I am so looking forward to closing this, and then skipping town for awhile to go on a solo trip somewhere. Thinking of Angkor Wat again.
-----------------------
Some hilarious answers to real life test questions, culled from a pool of students who scored F's in their exams. You got to give it to them, at least they're funny.

Feliz Navidad

After a good night's sleep, you feel like you can do anything. For a person who has bad nights 5 days of the week, a damn good sleep is as elusive as that bloody Xmas present that I have trawled three friggin malls for.

Superhero and I played a little bit of hooky the other day to go look for Xmas presents. We hauled ass down to the carpark with our notebooks in tow.

Anybody who had met us would have been convinced that we were going to pitch a serious deal to a big client, the way our brows furrowed in faux concentration (or in Superhero's case, his classic blank 'I don't see you get out of my way' look) as we strode purposefully to Superhero's ride.

I must admit I came very close to chickening out, because the last time I ever played serious hooky was from school. And even then, I made sure I'd already finished all the day's homework and fulfilled my daily librarian duties before sneaking out of the school gates during the morning recess.

Once we reached Pavilion, we were getting out of the car when I thought of something and chirped -

"I think we should take our notebooks down..."

"No point bringing the notebooks right, if anyone sees us in friggin Tangs, we're busted already lah!!!"

Hmm. Point yang munasabah.

---------------------

Things are feeling very precipice-y at the moment. My paranoia, which knows no bounds, is working overtime lately with me trying to ensure nothing goes wrong. Not at this crucial juncture.

To the point where, we were driving along a road, and I noticed a cat starting to cross the road. A black cat. It was still on the opposite side of the road, but it was nearing our trajectory.

I yelled at the boyfriend who was behind the wheel, "Go!! Go!!! Go!!!! Faster!! Don't let the cat cross!!"

We whizzed past a frozen black cat who practically turned to stone when it saw the car that was hurtling towards it. In the event pet lovers start plotting for my death and downfall, the car did not hit the cat. At all. Probably just missed it by a whisker or two.

*grin*

Feliz Navidad, pussy.

oh.. where is the jam?

Apparently the jam on the North South highway yesterday was so bad. My friends who left Melaka after the wedding took about 4-5 hours for a 1 and a half hour journey. Apparently too, the jam only cleared at 5am.

I only set out from my house and hit the highway at 6am, after a good night's sleep. Was cruising and giggling maniacally to myself, all the way feeling like I'd won the effing lottery.

Seriously, does the whole of Malaysia never learn. You'd think after years of getting stuck in highways on public holidays, that the mass populace would at least TRY to get out of it. It's the same with what is happening in the East Coast now. The floods come every friggin year! And while the government may be at least consistent in its inefficiency, you would have expected the masses to take things in their own hands by now. Like, move? Or run? Or not swim in the river?
----------------------
He was rehashing the details of the groom's speech from the wedding he attended yesterday. He insisted that I would like it, despite me telling him that I've seen practically all the bad, the good and the corny.

"So the groom went 'everyone who knows me knows im not a romantic, coz i never give flowers, only gifts.. when ppl ask why, i say its coz flowers die. But now, i want to make it up to you, with 8 bouquets of flowers for 8 years together'.." he recounted.

"Larrrrr, that's been done before!!!" I snorted.

"Really?"

"Yes. Get on with the times, yo."
-------------------
We were chatting on the pros and cons of getting hitched early. A considerable number of people nowadays are taking the opportunity to marry young before concentrating on their careers. And by young, I mean now. Like, 25, now. Even the bunch of old school friends I met yesterday are all on their way there already. Someone even mentioned that she wants a beach wedding.

While I do see the rationale for not wasting time if you've met The One, plus the fact that having someone else can bring more focus in your endeavours and be a pillar of support in this neverending tidal wave of experiences and perils of life, I do note the old adage of not putting the cart before the horse. The horse in this case represents, obviously, the right choice of a spouse, or The One.

If the horse has genital warts or is sadly tempang, u sure you wanna saddle it up? And don't give me that 'for better or worse' crap. That only comes after, in the whole scheme of things.

"So, all in all, it sounds good, except you got to find that special beacon, ie The One, first."

"Well, you've found one, haven't you? Both of you seem to fall into place.."

"Yeah.. so far.."

"My dear, you gotta be contented with who you have, rather than keep searching.."

"No.. I meant, so far, as in our journey together.. Nothing to do with looking for someone better...I mean, you never know, he might start taking me for granted..."

"That's bound to happen my dear, its more of how you balance it and remind the other half.."

"Well, I'll remind him with a baseball bat.."
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The company has just given me another corporate card, bringing the total tally to two.

I don't need a corporate card. I just need more pay.

Sigh. Don't we all.

when life sucks, suck life

When life sucks, suck life.

That's what somebody told me. I think its a snarkier way of saying go with the flow. Anyway, a 530pm conference call has delayed my bid to pick up the pieces of my discontinued social life so I'm trying to pass the time as best as I can.

And that definitely doesn't mean anally poring over the latest tracked draft of meeting minutes, AFTER you've looked at it three times. Meeting minutes are the most low level type documents I have to do. Like how in Farmville that translates to a Level 1 where you can plant nothing but bloody low-yielding raspberries, while all the higher level farmers with poncy names like Sultan of Soil look at you with that mofo smirk on their faces.

Anyway, back to the more interesting things that are going on.

Out of the blue I decided to check MetroDad out because last I heard his daughter had just turned three or four. I rarely read him because what in the world can a middle age (wait I think he's middle aged, is 40 considered middle age? It's really relative actually) guy with a young daughter whom he calls Peanut have in common with a slightly demented, possibly mildly bipolar (either that or plagues with really bad PMS bouts) 25 year old who works rabidly at her career, has no patience for idiots and whose main aims in life include buying Eames dining chairs for the apartment she has just bought?

In fact, the only thing we probably have in common is that we have very few friends. And I share his disdain for the masses of people who have such voluminous quantities of friends that they have to start taking those stupid family Christmas photos and writing their Christmas cards even before Thanksgiving. I have nothing against those Christmas photos. But please for god's sake don't all of you wear the same woollen sweaters with a green and red tree emblazoned across your chest. I have so few friends but I would not think twice of asking any one of them to emcee my wedding. Yes, that to me is personal. Because I'm a control freak and a perfectionist, and to actually cede the stage to someone who has probably never emceed before is quite a milestone for me.

Anyway, back to the main story. Which is the visit back to MetroDad.

He got divorced.

A hastily typed email ensued, sent to another friend whom I know reads him.

"MetroDad got divorced???"

Her reply was simple.

"Unfortunately. He's like my ideal guy. "

And no it wasn't schadenfreude that compelled me to read more of his posts. It was because of what a friend is now currently going through. And being a close friend of his, I am naturally caught up in the receding and advancing tides of his emotions and experiences and mood swings, which lately have been heading south more often than not.

I sent the blog link to that friend.

Him: "I think we should skinny dip."
Me: "With a drink in one hand. But I need arm band floats. I got a problem staying afloat when I'm drunk."
Him: "Ok shallow pool then."
Me: "Cannot! Can see all the bits and pieces!"
Him : "Fark. Dun care la."
Me: "Hmm I think we should wear a party hat. With streamers."

And then I imagined us group of close friends in a hot spa infinity pool with our toes hiked up the ledge overlooking a lush green untouched forest. Something like the one that can be found at Casabrina.

The beautiful picture is rudely interrupted when my ears pick up the ridiculous conversation thats going on in the cubicle next to mine.

One guy is talking to the girl about this insurance investment policy. It works like those lottery things and on the basis of time value of money. If you win a lottery, these people show up and offer to give you a lump sum amount at a discounted value than the amount you actually won, on the basis that you are getting the money now. So if you're an insurance policy holder, you sell your policy to an investor for a discounted sum, and the investor will be the beneficiary when you finally kick the bucket.

My eyes continue rolling, and I feel an increasing urge to turn around and tell him -

"Have you ever watched Leverage, bozo? Thats how they scam unsuspecting people like you. Jeezuz."

i've signed my life away

Update on the house front -

Signed my sales and purchase agreement on 11/11/2009.

Signed the loan agreement on 6/11/2009.

So if Jan 11 comes and I'm screaming, you'll know what happened.

How Long It Takes To Get A Home Loan Disbursed in Malaysia

Despite Hong Leong Bank assuring and the developer reassuring me that the disbursement of monies can be made within two months (after which I get slapped with late payment interest) if I chose to take the loan with the former, I have recently succumbed agreed to HSBC at Sultan Ismail, despite their verbal assurances not being as convincing as Hong Leong Bank.

The developer also told me there are cases of late disbursement from HSBC, and yet I chose to sign the offer letter. You might think now that "Hey I brought it on myself." But I've decided, partly because of it being an international bank and partly because of their checking facility, and so now I want to monitor how it turns out.

It starts with the letter of offer. So, Monday 2nd November 2009, I signed the letter of offer after a few days of asking them when it would be ready. But that's fine, that's just the first step. Subsequently, right after I signed, I was informed by the loan officer in his reassurances that yes, I can get the loan documents signed as early as Tuesday or Wednesday and he would call me to let me know.

Tuesday evening comes, and no news. So I send an email, and he replies saying he will follow up with the lawyers and call me tomorrow morning, that is Wednesday morning, today.

It is 3:30pm now and I haven't heard anything. A nice polite human being would try to understand, right? And I am a nice polite human being. But I can't help being miffed at being promised one thing with no follow up, JUST because I signed the letter of offer. Apparently, according to countless other friends who have got burnt by banks before, that is just the beginning of a long episode of hounding the bank to follow up with lawyers and etc.

So I am prepared for delays. The only difference is, I'm going to minute every date, every email sent, every follow up I make and every promise made to me so it will be much easier in case anything blows up happens. And I've started to consult a few lawyer friends on possible avenues of seeking to uphold consumer rights from every freaking tribunal there is, just so I'm prepared.

Because there is no way in hell I will be paying the late disbursement interest if it is NOT my fault.

I shall wait til tomorrow before sending the HSBC officer another reminder email. And then print it out for records.

Love Is A Many Splendoured Thing

It's official. The ex I used to date in uni and my friend that I met through work, are going out.


They met at my birthday party. -_-"


It's funny how something I could never have imagined two years ago is happening now. This is sooo "wedding toast" material.


Lol. But I put the cart before the horse.


Loves babes. I'm seriously bone-deep thrilled. I hope I get to attend your wedding before mine.

Oh I do love love. Makes the world go friggin' round.

They Said You'd Feel On Top Of The World

You would think having a string of achievements under your belt would leave you satisfied, confident and frankly, on top of this world.

But not for a kid with abandonment issues. I read schizophrenia.com the other day, and I was shocked to find out that I could identify with what most of the offspring of people with schizophrenia were going through.

1. Inability to accept love - And the ability to block people out emotionally, the ability to detach myself so easily from my surroundings, makes people think I don't feel anything or I don't give a damn.

2. Easily hurt - Wondering too often what people think, fearing they're thinking the worst of you can lead to over-trying, over-achieving just so people will think of you as normal or confident or accomplished or .

Thank god that I have not seen dad in 10 years. Imagine how I would have been more affected had he still been a part of my life. As it is, I struggle to re-program myself, block out excessively negative thoughts and try to be happy and satisfied every day.

Always I try to live and experience everything as if today were my last - but I wonder if I could be taking it too far. To quit my job now in favour of a one-year overseas sojourn in a volunteering position, to leave a good guy behind, to leave a career where I've just made manager at 25 (one of the youngest in the company), sounds like suicide. The part of me that wants to go says there is no time like the present. But somehow I can't feel the push to go. Does that mean I'm giving something up by choosing to stay?

This upcoming home project is yet another one of my little attempts to be normal. I find peace and contentment in browsing for sofas, contemplating color schemes and searching for little decorative accentuations. I am still looking for home, but this time, instead of running away to find it, I'm attempting to build one with my own hands.

Wish me luck.

zap zap

I will sooo be struck by lightning.

Trying ever so consciously to keep that whole image of my friends waggling their pinky fingers viciously at me, so I can remain SANE, and stay on the path that I'm convinced is right.

Right path, less excitement, more stability.

Only the right path annoys me sometimes because I find that despite us being on the same wavelength most of the time, it irks me somewhat that he isn't able to quickly see the same things I see and react as fast, especially in unfamiliar situations.

Yowch.

meow meow meow

My hairdresser is on leave until the 18th. Oh woe. And I have PMS. Major manic depressive mood swings.


And I just ratted on my boss to my big boss. Saying I am giving forewarning that there is a problem, and its just not working out between us because he is not 'involved'. I am hereby now trying to phase out all work with him.


And then I got assigned the task of being the liaison with corporate communications on revamping our department's portion of the website. Retribution. Owch. Now I'm a copywriter too.

My used-to-be-close-but-not-so-close girlfriend has joined a church. Now thats surprising because she used to denounce all faith before. According to her, she is looking for peace and trying to solve this spiritual loss of direction. Besides the fact that I think its a wrong reason to go to church, I think alcohol does just fine as a substitute too.


There's clubbing with some friends this weekend and he's getting on my nerves as he's started meowwing about it. Me thinks he's gotten too used to me not going out and hitting my books all the time. I suppose he's in for a surprise then. Relationships. They don't surprise me anymore with the way they run their course.

boo boo

Uh oh. Our daily research brief gave a nasty nasty write up on a certain company, and ended with saying,

"We are ceasing coverage on XX Berhad"

NOT. good. news.

Within the hour, my boss got a call from one of the managing directors, a personal friend of his.

*i sink lower in chair, don't want to be seen, pretend i don't know anything*
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My colleague who shares a cubicle with me is actually quite an eligible young man, except that he annoys me like heck sometimes. He prefers to dispose of his rubbish and empty teh tarik plastic drink packets in MY rubbish bin instead of his own, which works perfectly fine.

shit hitteth the fan

in the form of the client screaming that they wanted their documents yesterday.

that resulted in the following chain of events

Big Boss got Shat on
-->
Bi.g Boss Shat on Two Smaller (but still big) Bosses
-->
Two Smaller (but still big) Bosses Shat on (no surprise there), ME.

At 1am, when everyone was tired after being shat on all day, the last we wanted to do was debate over some incomprehensible Islamic concept which didn't make sense from a commercial perspective.

I wished I could skewer the people who just were nit-bloody-picky, but those people were the Syariah advisers. I'd be in serious violation of Islamic principles.

Wakala, apala

Somebody asked what a wakala is structure today.

We wafafa-ed it over to the Islamic department, and got them to do a brief 10-min explanation to us, and suddenly we're all experts on the subject.

And it isn't a structure per se, actually. It's a supporting arrangement whereby a transaction party is appointed as a wakeel, or agent for the purposes of carrying out the transaction under the relevant scope of duties allowed for in the various Islamic structures.

Damn good bullshitters orators we are, too.

No thanks to Competitor, the past 24 hours was a literal blur of kinetic energy. We got a leg up on them when we made some in-roads to the client, and they were on the phone complaining immediately after that we went over their heads.

I apologized, but hey, we won.

Ding!

My counterpart over there was incredibly brash and rude, to which I merely responded to by slowing down my speech and speaking in a more measured way. I don't care if you're a tidal wave, you'll still break when you hit a wall.

Nothing like a soothing picture to take your mind off overbearing scum of the earth.

Macchiavelli, Where Art Thou?

I don't understand why I always get assigned on joint deals with our competitor. Some people can go years without doing one, and I've already got 3.

It's a competition on who talks to client first, who manages to get the client's trust, selling our soul just to get on the inside. I reckon by the time I leave this place, I'd have gotten a lesson in strategy and the art of warfare as well.

Job Scope

• Engaging in defensive and offensive (and sometimes subversive) tactics to cement perception of undisputed leadership

The other day I had a pretty stupid question and I called a regulator because I couldn't be bothered to sift through thousands of pages of guidelines. Regulator was pissed, and asked where I was from. Uh oh, possible trouble. Confidently, I gave the name of my competitor.

That was all it took to make our team's day.

I No Gib You Chicken Chop Next Time

I busted chops this morning all by myself to get the material ready for the meeting

and then

they tell me it's cancelled.

bloody devil spawn of a deal.

Next time I ain't giving you no chops of mine. Fillet will do.

Oh Tuhan, Mengapa Dunia Ini Begitu Kecil?

These tax dudes are getting incredibly efficient nowadays. They should give a crash course to the rest of the other government departments, oh wait, I forgot, tax dudes are incentivised to treat us well.


It took me less than 3 hours to get my online tax filing pin number. Quite a large amount of time was spent composing the email request because my Malay has gone to the dogs. Request = permintaan took ten minutes.


Then my team head came to me with his IC and asked me to scan it for him. Adakah aku nampak macam orang gaji anda?!?!
-------------------
My ex is now dating someone else. If only that someone else wasn't from the same university as us, if only we weren't all acquaintances in the same (large) pool back then.

My skin started getting crawly all over. Not disgust or anything, she's seems sweet and nice, but just.... weird. If I used to sleep with him, and he's now sleeping with her, am I linked to her somehow?

I texted him.

I'm really happy for you, but remember our NDA.

What NDA?

Non-disclosure agreement.

He sent back a joking reply. Eh, I am not joking la. I may not be running for public positions anytime soon, but I know you will be honourable and let whatever was between us remain that way, or I will hunt you down and hack you to pieces very nicely remind you not to. :)

Sekian, terima kasih tuan-tuan dan puan-puan.

Technology Can Be Such A Pain

I'm already wiped out with back to back work, meetings, meetups, squeezing in desperate studying and major family obligations lately.

Now it appears I'm technologically wiped out too.

No matter how much I tried, the Visual Basic code just wouldn't work and stubbornly stayed yellow. (if a code is highlighted, it means there's a mistake)

I prayed. I bleated. I shook fists at the heavens. I threatened suicide.

Actually I just forgot to insert 'Range'.

On another note, Ace Gang now conducts weekly training, and assigns homework for the staff to complete. I'm all for learning and all that, but don't you think 19 questions is seriously pushing it?

Somebody thinks he has a sense of humour.

...................

Somebody is OBVIOUSLY wrong.

Yours Fake One Ar?

My big boss loves watches.

He buys fake watches on occasion.

(his Rolex is real though)

So he bought a fake Panerai.

(I didn't know what a Panerai was until my friend bought a fake and said he only bought it cos the original was so expensive)

(btw the big boss of my big boss has an original Panerai)

Anyway, one day my big boss attends an event on behalf of the company. Over the meal, the round lid of the fake Panerai watch popped out and went rolling across the table.

Masa my colleague was cerita-ing the story over lunch, we were all rolling everywhere too.

With pure, hearty, splitting laughter.

Also known as 'ketawa gila babi'.

I'd Give A Little Bit If...

See the man with the lonely eyes,
Take his hand, you'll be surprised.

I miss you at times. But we can't have the 'never was'.
-----------------------
We're sitting in the swanky glass conference room listening to a young management consultant (you know those MBA types) go on and on about this new model that the company is going to implement.

I could see my colleague two seats away with a furrowed brow, staring at the huge projector screen like she couldn't figure something out. Me too.

Turns out we both spent the whole afternoon individually wondering how the heck Mr oliver wyman managed to draw big red circles over the Powerpoint presentation while it was in full screen mode.

What model? Huh?

The answer is - While its in full screen mode, right click and modify pointer options to 'red'. You can even adjust thickness of the marks you make for blind old bats' viewing ease.

i'm over you but he's not over her

"Hey man, what were you doing there that night... on a date, with a new girl ar?"

I braced myself for that slight familiar twinge of hurt you feel about those you have loved and lost. Or even liked and lost.

I didn't feel anything. I pushed harder.. and waited... and I still didn't feel anything.

And that felt great. It took a long time coming, but the day finally arrived anyway.
------------
My friend is going to be a dad. I'm really happy for him, at least, until he tells me that he moves on autopilot most of the time in his role as husband, son, son-in-law. And he does it so well that he doesn't think anyone realizes that he's sometimes not happy, and wishes for something else, this other person in his thoughts for the past year, somebody his alter ego thinks just might be the one.

Except The One arrived 5 years too late.

You know the other word for Murphy's Law?

It's ironic.

No, two words.

Fucking ironic.

Round #1

Ace Gang Member: Hi, I heard frm *boss name* that you're the toll road expert.
Stalwart Gang Member: *deadpan voice* No one here is an expert.
Ace Gang Member: *laughs nervously* No really.. seriously..
Stalwart Gang Member: I'm serious. Nobody here is an expert in anything.

Stalwart - 1, Ace Gang - 0.

Ding! Bring on Round 2.
--------------------------
My boss is trying to make me be polite to Ms Gymnast. I take issue with it because I didn't set out to be anything, much less rude, to her in the first place, preferring to just stick to my side of the playground because where girls are concerned, I have bad luck with them (see Village Bicycle story below).

Him: She is just damn naive and innocent..hence can come across as bimbo-ish.. she's very very innocent , its like talking to a little girl..

Cue vomit.

Cue barf bag.

No assistant vice president with 5 plus years working in this fucking dog eat dog, dog eat rat, fly, cat and everything else world can be that innocent.

Whatever. I can play nice too. See if you don't choke on my sweetness or die a diabetic death.
-----------------
My G-string snapped while I was in the little girls' room. Snapped and slid down my legs. Talk about dramatic effect. Something bad is going to happen. Either that, or I will be winning the lottery. If I buy it, that is.

The CYA Clause

I don't know if this is a company-specific phenomenon or a human race-wide type of phenomenon. The way the staff in this joint come up with all sorts of ways to cover their ass is simply spectacular.

If everything is not your responsibility, and you were just doing what you're told, then I see no need for you to be promoted to assistant vice president, you dolt.

I explained to the staff concerned on the matter over the phone, told her even, how to do her job. Next I know she sends me an email and cc's the entire world, repeating whatever I told her and asking me to confirm. Don't have much patience for idiots today because my boss shat on me, so too bad.

-----------------

I really need to get studying done this weekend, but I can't help feeling obliged to go to the wedding this time because I don't want to give people the satisfaction of thinking that I pulled out because I feel awkward and out of place.

Knowing me, I have been meowwing about it for days, but then, the bf, points out -

"Dear.. please reserve your energy for worthwhile things.. you don't have to travel a couple hundred kilometres to cut your nose just to spite your face."

Ouch. But it's true. I rant about things that shouldn't matter. Patut kena slap.

But seriously, see if you can lift a finger to slap this.

Booyah!

most days

most days. most days you're just like any other quarter lifer, impressive track record in education and career so far, dating someone already for 6 months.

but there are the days you realize you have no idea what the fuck, why the fuck and how the fuck.

what the fuck you're doing here
why the fuck you are still doing something you don't know why you have the motivation for

and
how the fuck to get out of a mess that on the surface, isn't a mess.

that's the point. my life isn't a mess. but its somehow not full. my job, while it has its set of challenges, also leaves me with the impression that i could quit and the world would just go on the next day without noticing. my love, sweet as he is, i find myself intently looking at him, wondering if he sees me. my books just make me want to slit my fucking wrist.

it's the need to feel like im making a difference. there are many things that drive a person. sadly, this need doesn't drive me most of the time, that's why i'm doing what i'm doing.

the need to be part of something, to be useful, is entirely human. but the need to achieve greatness driven by an all-consuming need to be acknowledged and affirmed, is a plain and simple sign of insecurity. you're not sure you're good enough, so you keep doing more and more and more. and at the end, if you're lucky, you're rich, accomplished, high-flying and divorced, or your kids have grown up, life has passed you by, and you're in a deeper identity crisis than before.

or if you're unlucky, you burn out by 25 and spend the rest of your days mourning your lost glory, jadedly accept mediocrity, pressure your boyfriend into marrying you to fill the gap and spend your days tending to colicky babies.

it's time to stop this slow descent into madness. to apply the brakes before i get swallowed up in this stupid cesspool of achievement for the sake of feeding my fucking insecurities.

and find another reason for my overachieverism instead of this convenient one i've been using for so long.

Psych 101

inside, i was boiling with anger. anger at having so much life and energy, yet am crippled with this weak, fluttering mind. anger at being given the chance to drive my dreams in the day, but insidiously taking me a few steps back at night. mostly, just angry that i had to come back again.

yesterday night scared me because i was so close to giving up, my mind nearly slipped. scared me to the point i jumped into a car first thing in the morning and shot like a bullet towards home to solve this crap once and for all.

i hate sitting outside a psychiatrist's office. it looks like a morbid scene where the recently deceased lie soullessly as they are ferried into the afterlife on River Styx. i remember taking a few hours off work once to take my housemate to this clinic in the building opposite KLCC. there were mothers in confinement with swollen eyes (post natal blues - some of em end up killing their babies), a scrawny girl with uncombed hair and dead eyes (maybe fail exam, serotonin imbalance, got bullied, got dumped) and old people with dementia (self-explanatory). it was hard, being so full of life, to walk through that place.

it was harder today, because it felt like i was coming back to a place i thought i'd left behind for good 6 years ago. perhaps my mother has drilled this lesson hard into me, or perhaps i'm just plain vain. you have to dress well even if its just a visit to the psychiatrist, even when you absolutely have the right to look smelly and unkempt because you haven't slept for days.

so there i was, shirt, cufflinks, jeans and belt with matching suede heels and Tod's bag. i looked like a jilted young mistress going for her monthly drug fix.

haha *cue sarcastic snort*

the funniest part of this was -
before i left to the clinic, my mom called her regular GP to see if we coudn't get sleeping pills and be done with it. the GP asked for my symptoms, said something to her on the phone and she looked at me.

"Drugs?" she mouthed.
"Are you nuts?!" I yelled.

That's how I ended up driving to the hospital hopping mad.

People are just so quick to misunderstand. Next thing they wonder if u just got dumped. Fucking predictable. All walking past, seeing me sitting outside the psych's office, i wanted to scare the shit out of them by jumping on the chairs mrowling, "My life is great, assholes. I just suffer from anxiety attacks. Eat that, stupid."

The 10% Fight

I didn't set up another blog just to write happy, dreamy, blithe, prancy pansy stuff. You can go to this other blogs where the girls post innumerable pictures of their mug like the one where she names it after rotted milk goo (which is another word for cheese) or the one whose address is her name and ends with a -kiss.

We only spend about 10% of our lives experiencing that which is called happiness anyway. 60% spent nursing a broken heart, losing a job, and arguing with your boyfriend who turned into a pumpkin once the mandatory honeymoon period was over, gossiping about this or that person in our utterly misplaced so-called righteous behaviour. The remaining 30% spent dreaming, yearning, for happiness. Or things we think will make us happy.

It pains me to think of my high school friend who just gave birth to twins and didn't marry the guy she made the kids with. In fact, she didn't marry anyone at all. I don't judge; this is the girl I spent hours talking to every night in high school, passing secret notes written in colorful ink during class, agonizing together wondering if this or that guy liked us or not.

But not judging isn't the same as not knowing. You can know what a person is. She is pretty, sweet, can charm the socks off anyone, but has the biggest victim complex for such a small package. Her life tapdances to the same tune where everyone she first meets sees her as a tough yet soft girl who's had many bad things happen to her in her life. The guy's protective instincts go into overdrive and he promises that this time, he'll be the one to make her smile. Those are the happy times. But it won't last. It'll start off small, like him staying out too late. She victimizes herself with such electrifying force that the guy winds up like a bastard, either ways. And of course, she affects others lives with it too.

I will be forever traumatized by the memory of having to circle dark neighborhood streets searching for her after she ran out of her boyfriend's car after a tiff, chasing her down on foot begging her to get in my car and go home, the night of the final straw where she took the key to the little lock of her bedroom window (which incidentally, is my current bedroom window) and wanted to launch out like a projectile into the nevernever. And oh, who could forget her slashing the guy's feet with a knife and then turning on herself?

She blames it on the medicine, her 'unstable' emotions. I told her before. Many times. It can be controlled. It can be harnessed and channeled elsewhere.

You think I've never walked that road? Never felt like taking just one extra pill to make what's numb feel number? You think I don't know that Prozac, Xanax or Rameron lets you glide emotionlessly throughout the days, til they blend into one big glob in your head?

But they also stop you from living. I live every day feeling I have a part of me that is so dark it will eat me to death one day. Most nights the hairs on my neck stand as I feel like I'm being watched, or some newfangled baddie (usually of the spiritual kind) from yet another scary book or TV show might pop out of nowhere and try to eat my face. The paranoia that my dad's schizophrenia is somewhere deep in me, waiting to manifest, follows me doggedly.

I've been told to will my mind to rest, but in the end I find myself getting out of bed to shut the closet door properly, close the curtains so nothing can peek in and scare me in case I open my eyes, and because spirits can't enter your house if you don't invite them in, I mentally think in my head "You are not welcome here" every time I go in the main door. And sometimes, things do happen. I've literally felt my spirit trying to be pulled out of my body while I'm sleeping, and each time that happens my spirit being, now seasoned with the technique of stopping those attacks, reaches across to clasp my spirit hands and mumble a Buddhist prayer. I've felt, while suspended in between consciousness, the sound of things passing by, trying to keep my nerves calm and heartbeat slow lest I be discovered and pounced upon. One, I can handle. A group, I may not be able to.

But you live. You go on. You harness every will to subdue your screaming nerves, and you fall asleep finally, exhausted after the internal battle. And then you go to work and give it your all in another one of your endeavours, because that's how you've approached life since you could remember. Every morning is another day. And the nights are but nothing you just endure, bit by bit, every 12 hour round by 12 hour round. And you live for that 10%.

Words Don't Break No Bones

Stars and stones. Sticks and bones.

A kononnya 'friend', whom I haven't spoken to since end-November 08 after a particularly nasty exchange of words via SMS, suddenly IM-ed me out of the blue over the office LotusNotes system.

I'm surprised it didn't rain pink cats there and then.

Ok I admit it. I have an ego. A huge one, and I wasn't going to give in and be the first to initiate contact. I won't say she's totally unjustified in being mad at me; after all, I somehow managed to ruin things between her and Playboy. She and him didn't work out, so she kinda went back to her old boyfriend. They've since broken up (the old bf), and a little birdie told me she's been calling him recently.

I know, I know. Dramas of the young and restless. Believe me, you ain't heard nothing yet.
--------------------
Overheard from one of my senior bosses in the department

Boss: Yesterday for the first time in my life I met two mat sallehs in one day. Bankers frm London. One at lunch and one at dinner.

Go katak. Go tempurung.

dumb-nation damnation, whatever

For a person who has so many secrets, I really am too stupid to keep them well.

We got somewhat carried away on our first trip together, and got a tad bit shutter-happy. If you know what I mean. I also tend to download pictures from my camera and then subsequently forget about it.

So my colleague wanted to transfer something with my pendrive.

All I can do is pray that she decided not to be nosy this morning.

Otherwise. I keel myself.
-----------
Heard on Gmail today -

A : Monday's suck bolas.

Me: Why are you not on GTalk?

A: They is block my witchcraft Javascript.

Me: Exodus 22:18 - Never suffer a witch to live.

A: Sons of witches.

----three hours later-----

Me: You win. Spent hours trying to think of a 'witch' comeback. Fail.

A: Wahaha. Highlight of my day, this is.

Tempest in the Local Teapot

Talks are rife in the market about a spate of resignations to come out from a certain investment bank in town. The tempest in the banking teapot purportedly stems from the inability to harmoniously merge the working levels, post acquisition of an advisory firm. The IB department has lost close to 40% of its arsenal, with notable departures like the head of research and key team heads in corporate finance.

Sources close to the matter report that an emergency meeting was held among the CEO and senior management to discuss the issue.

"They're seriously unfriendly. Unhelpful." - Overheard, about one of the advisory firm's staff.

"Of course nobody is going to tell them, more satisfying to watch them implode." - A comment when asked why there seems to be a certain disconnect and lack of communication between sides.

The two sides, I shall call them the Ace Gang and the Stalwarts, have jarringly different opinions about almost everything, like the perception of each other's abilities and work ethics. A few exceptions aside, Ace Gang thinks Stalwarts are severely incompetent especially in terms of presentation skills and Excel skills. But the Stalwarts are a wily bunch. Why go in with guns ablazing and go up in flames? Better to wait til first round is over then go in and systematically demolish everything, or in this case, wait til the Ace Gang shoots themselves in the foot.

Stalwarts work steadily, keep a low profile and generally are non-aggressive and tactful. This means when the work is done, Stalwarts see no reason to stay back in the office, and this can be taken as a sign of being too free, or unmotivated. Ace Gang members are young, driven, outspoken, sharp and direct. Good qualities if you're in organizations like Accenture.

The Ace gang, while undoubtedly are made up of a high achiever bunch who probably started reading at 6 months old and could spell 'aphrodisiac' in kindergarten, appear to have very little ability to connect with people on many levels. They work late, and wear their late-nights and all-nighters proudly like a badge of honour, but they have yet to deliver results. Big name pitches like PAAB and Tenaga were botched, whilst the Stalwarts are quietly and surely securing mandates in their silent, under-the-radar way.

I personally am an Ace gang-type. I respect driven and ruthless personalities, because that's what's needed to survive. But I know the Stalwarts have a wealth of knowledge to offer, and their experience should never be discounted and put aside just because they can't cook up pretty Powerpoint presentations or do a nested IF formula.

The jury is still out on whether the Ace Gang can refine their technique in time to clock in a few hits before the year end, but for that to happen, the realization that things have to change has to come soon.

Hi. New blog. I have another one, but I think it's been discovered by a whole lot of nosy who's who's at the damn office, and I find I've been starting to censor myself of late. Plus I think if you google my name you can find that blog. And I kinda don't want whatever I put there to come back and bite my professional ass. Especially since I'm planning a stellar rise to rule the freaking world.
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It is 4pm. Yet another day of pointless stupid amendments to the powerpoint presentation. Frankly, who gives a shit between "We propose the following options and we recommend Option 1" and "Of the two (2) options, we recommend Option 1"?

Nothing usually goes to plan, everything gets changed at the very last minute. And I've worked on this for months. And amidst the anal comments, I have to co-ordinate the compilation of information from so many people. Plus wait with bated breath for the bitch I hate in sales to get back to me. More stories about HER later.

So if my boss asks me ONE more time to clarify with bond research on why the fucking yield curve is shifting every single time the guy sends out an update, I will lose it. Working in this new team isn't as hunky as I thought it'd be. I wanted to work for my last boss. Now I just can't wait to get away from the current one.

And as luck would have it, I happen to be in the department with one of the slowest career progressions. Even the bf, who joined later than I did, is being given deals to run on his own so that his boss can justify a promotion for him to assistant vice president come end of the year.

Me? I'm right at the bottom of the food chain, despite working harder and smarter than some of the existing AVPs, with a very bleak looking progression. That's why I'm festering. That's why I'm tired. But that stupid noble thing I have, discipline, is stopping me from saying fuck you all.
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Back to the bitch in sales. I actually have nothing against her except she ignores me when we're in a group, the you're-a-speck-of-dust kind of ignore. Sometimes, her attitude puzzles me especially since I didn't steal her boyfriend or anything. But mostly, it just pisses me off.

But karma and its retributory attributes exist. I was talking to Playboy, who happens to be friends with some of the guys the sales bitch has slept with, and when I asked what he thought of her, he proclaimed her a "village bicycle". Because everyone's taken a ride on it.

I wanted to punch my fists in the air and yell "You're damn right!" but of course I maintained. Must not lose my touch.
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Life's seriously a drama when you're in your twenties.

Stay tuned.