tikam thoughts

Craving for nasi briyani ayam after awakening at 5.30 am with barely four hours of sleep is utterly not funny… especially not when you really feel like opening up the packet of Brahim’s kurma sauce and cooking ayam kurma for breakfast, complete with vegetables and rice. Oh no, Sugeoooooo!

It is amazing how lonely one can feel even if surrounded by friends.

On one hand, I really hope I nail that scholarship application. That’ll mean being in London by October this year, a dream of which I can’t even begin to describe how much it means to me. On the other hand, not getting it will result in a year’s deferment of my ICL admission, enabling me to be Lish punya chi mui with the rest of the gang at her wedding in December. I am glad the choice is not up to me to decide and yet somehow, how I wish it is.

This Sunday, by hook or by crook, I will attend morning mass.

June is going to be a horrible month of deadlines and also a wonderful month of visits from Atah, Mama, Supra, Lish and Pohf. It is also a month of weddings. May was one of marriage proposals. Hmmm… February does seem a little passé for love happenings, doesn’t it?

If I return to sleep now, I do not wish to dream of eating Muar otak-otak or stir-fried sweet potato leaves with lots of garlic. Ish… kronik betul…

waiting to exhale

It’s like looking at a scab on your knee, waiting for the wound to dry and heal so you can peel off that ugly reminder of a bad scrape or a fall. Then your impatience gets the better of you and you pick at it before it’s ready to come off. You pick around the edges only to realise that the wound is still quite raw in the middle. Unfortunately you can’t stop because now that the scab is half holding on to the middle and loose round the edges, an accidental rub or hook will yank the whole piece out. Owww… you can imagine the agony. Gross. So you peel carefully and dilligently with surgical precision, hoping to minimise the damage. Finally the scab comes off but the wound bleeds again, profusely and with renewed vengeance.

Yeah, it sure feels like that… except there’s no pain, only numbness and tiredness. Perhaps I’m trying too hard to be alright before it’s time.

kathairein

Once we thought `if you can’t beat it, join it’. So we lived in accumulating filth for about close to a month. We really persevered despite the dusty feet, rolling hairballs *cue western movie music with deserted cowboy town imagery*, ant trails, lizard droppings and grimy table tops. When a pair of house slippers made its appearance, we surrendered.

“At least a maid gets paid, you know…”
Growing up, I’ve never had a maid and Mama made sure we understood she wasn’t one. I am not Mama and neither is Ah Tan her mom, so we figured it is not our place to be educating a person on tact, common sense and sensibility. Anyhow, we’d be more than a decade too late.

Gue ngak ngerti. Seriously. Mopping the floors for the third round one night for my `I’ve-lost-count-of-how-many-times’th turn, I was left with a tear-stained face and sore palms. Two hours of cleaning, during which my mind was preoccupied with finding words to make the acronym S.L.O.B. allowed me to fall asleep without murderous dreams and floors so clean your toes will wriggle and dance! Ahhh… there’s always a bright side to everything. I am also pleased to report that S.L.O.B. can be personalised for specimens of both genders.

I can now fully comprehend how housewives and working mothers can break down in tears when their children refuse to help keep the house clean. It is not melodrama hystrionics or emotional blackmailing. You’ll understand one day when you’re living on your own under the same roof as a S.L.O.B. and you will thank your mother with all your grateful heart.

Redemption lies with a broom, a mop and a bucket of soapy water. Clean and redeem.

“Dear little cicak, I’m utterly sorry for dragging you for about 1.5 metres or so in the mop while I was cleaning the kitchen floor today. I was mopping under the influence of anger and frustration. I hope your tail grows back soon. Be good and try not to do that zip-zap-bump routine at night, alright?”

a story, morning glory

I awoke this morning before the sun did on these parts and did a little jig of celebration. It doesn’t happen very often to someone like me. They say the condition of the womb dictates the survival traits of a newborn. Perhaps all those hours of waiting and finally gasping for my first mouthful of air in the wee hours of the morning made me nocturnal by nature. I was up late even before I came into the world. Hee… what a grand excuse. I was one week overdue too. Atah said I was supposed to share Mama’s birthday but perhaps obstinate little me wanted a birthday cake of my own. Stubbornness however, is a trait I do share with Mama.

My thoughts drift to those of you. I wonder if you are like me, which would mean you’d probably still be sound asleep and only due to awake in another two hours. Then again, if you’re working, you’d be awake soon; after several minutes of determined bargains with your alarm clock, that is, if you are like me. Maybe you are my complete opposite. That would make you more akin to Atah who has the most canggih circadian clock in the evolution of mankind. He can wake up whenever he wants to, just like that. His internal alarm clock is precise down to the minute. Unfortunately, he didn’t pass that marvelous gene down to me. I am still much unevolved or devolved in terms of circadian rhythms. Atah says that the ability can be trained, it is not inherited. I still reckon it’s a mutant gene.

Faces in a crowd, people that you meet or stories in your head, I wonder if you search for me. Mama sure hopes you do and she wishes that you’d look a bit harder. I burst out laughing when she said that one evening when we were watching tv. Lying on the carpet, I almost choked on my own saliva. But yes, I hope you’re searching for me too. If I were a princess in a fairytale, Mama and Atah would have launched a sayembara for you a long time ago. Alas and thank goodness, I am not. Maybe we will find each other when we have found ourselves. Whatever you do, please don’t give up.

Dawn is getting painted in a palette of blue, pink and yellow hues. Oh, and wee bit streaks of orange, like a last minute addition to a confused canvas. I am glad the mornings don’t get lighted by the flick of a switch… every awakening deserves a little indulgence.

schmapped!

Weeee! All three of my shortlisted photos got Schmapped !! Here are screenshots of how they appear in the Naples and Barcelona Schmap Guides…

assertion and dissertation

“Resolving not to read another book till I’m done with my thesis is terribly difficult. It’s like making a promise you know you won’t keep. Four more unread books, four new worlds to get lost in… wait, is there a fifth?”
“No and anyway, National Geographic comes in the mailbox every month. Get lost in the real world.”
“That’s different lah. Besides, art borrows heavily from life. Science and the arts, they’re mutual inspirations, macam gambarajah Venn…”
“Hello, we are zooming way past the point here. Major terpesongness!”
“Alright, a compromise: I’ll read only when taking the MRT or on the bus. Uhm, what about rainy afternoons in a café?”
“What café? There’s no time to be sitting in a café, make it the library!”
“No, libraries are full of books. The temptation will only get worse.”
“Not if it’s the medical library, there are only brain-numbing periodicals and rows of rows of books that you won’t gravitate towards. Nothing interesting to get lost in, no gorgeous specimens of the opposite gender to distract you.”
“Speaking of which, there was one hensem fella who kept staring at me at that quaint jazz café the other day. I’d like to have my hat-themed farewell party there if I’m going this year. It’s so comfortably kooky!”
*Smack!* “He was probably staring at the hot Japanese keyboardist.”
“Oh okie, yeah… I know lah, I have a thesis to write! How exciting! I’m quivering at the very thought of it!! Sigh. My lack of self-discipline is pathetic.”
“Great, we actually concurred on something.”

magnificent Melaka

Makan Marathon Melaka 2006

It was a hot and sunny weekend in Melaka; perfect weather for a makan marathon. Mingshi, Ruijie, Ryan, Hema, Meng Teck, Siew Leong, Yvonne and I were joined by Booi and Pohf as we hunted down the list of scrumptious food in Melaka.

Highlights included lemang and serunding at Padang Temu, ikan bakar at Pernu-Umbai (3 ekor ikan jenahak, 2 kg of prawns, 1 kg of squids and goodness-knows-how-many packets of nasi lemak), hee kiaw, mee rojak, asam pedas (with salted duck egg and kangkung), baskets of otak-otak, bowls and bowls of cendol, fresh-out-of-the-oven pineapple tarts from Bibik House, second-toe-longer gangsters, Hainanese chicken rice balls, pongteh, rendang daging and sayur paku lodeh at Nyonya Makko, the crispiest char siew and siew yoke at 1am, satay celup at 2.30am, lepaking over drinks at Cafe Guan, playing chor dai ti at Wings Cafe (Ryan was the champion), and the ultimate Roti John (four for fuiyohhh) with ayam golek madu that was definitely worth the drive all the way to Tg. Keling and back!