Cynful Words

I'm Moving

2009-01-18T16:18:00.002+08:00

This blog has shifted HERE. I look forward to seeing you at my new place. Make sure you update your bookmarks!

12 Things to Keep the Mind Supple

2009-01-07T16:13:00.003+08:00

I put this on my Facebook once. I really like it, so I'm going to share it here.

1. Spend an hour each day without saying anything except in answer to direct questions, in the midst of the usual group, without creating the impression that you’re sulking or ill. Be as ordinary as possible. But do not volunteer remarks or try to draw out information.

2. Think for 30 minutes a day about one subject exclusively. Start with five minutes.

3. Write a letter without using the words I, me, mine, my.

4. Talk for 15 minutes a day without using I, me, my, mine.

5. Write a letter in a “successful” or placid tone. No misstatements, no lying. Look for aspects or activities that can be honestly reported that way.

6. Pause on the threshold of any crowded room and size it up.

7. Keep a new acquaintance talking about himself or herself without allowing him to become conscious of it. Turn back any courteous reciprocal questions in a way that your auditor doesn’t feel rebuffed.

8. Talk exclusively about yourself and your interests without complaining, boasting, or boring your companions.

9. Cut “I mean” or “As a matter of fact” or any other verbal mannerism out of your conversation.

10. Plan two hours of a day and stick to the plan.

11. Set yourself twelve tasks at random: e.g., go twenty miles from home using ordinary conveyance; go 12 hours without food; go eat a meal in the unlikelist place you can find; say nothing all day except in answer to questions; stay up all night and work.

12. From time to time, give yourself a day when you answer “yes” to any reasonable request.

- Dorothea Brande (1936)

An Episode of Verbal Diarrhoea

2008-12-30T13:10:00.005+08:00

I thought about the words when I drove around town. I thought about them during morning ablutions, at the gym, in the loo, when I cycled through quaint villages. I thought about them a lot, as you might have guessed by now; but I didn’t get to write any of it down because…well, because writing takes time, and effort, and if I’m not going to do a half-assed job with it (which I generally try not to), then I’m just going to have to wait until I make time for it.

Backing up about three weeks from today, my good buddy Wen came over from Singapore for a week of R & R. Wen and I go way back to university days in Oz. She and I don’t see each other as much as we’d like to, but when we do, we pick up like we’ve never been separated by the South China Sea. Cool lady, my friend Wen. Diver, adventurer, traveller and when she’s not doing all that, banker. We went to Sematan Palm Beach Resort, about 85 cliks from town. I have Wen to thank for shoving a much-needed R & R week on me. Before that, I was starting to feel the slog of work, possibly building up to a slow burnout. It’s just one of those things. No matter how much I like what I do, frustrations, vexations and eventual burnouts will happen. Plus, add in a pinch of the-grass-is-greener syndrome, you were looking at what ailed me.

So, there we were, Sematan Palm Beach Resort, a pretty cool place run by two other people I know, Nick and Tania. Both of them happened to be there when we arrived. That was cool. I had not seen them in a while. Sematan is where the magic beaches of my childhood are. My entire family, uncles, grandma and all, used to go there for extended family getaways. It was a mystical place for me, because all I remember was endless hours on a bumpy road, and there the golden sands lay. That was 30 years ago (gosh, did I say 30? Zowee). Now, beach resorts line the coastline.

Wen and I rented bikes and cycled around the area. There were quaint villages and paddy fields framed by mountains in the background and the sea in front. The rickety wooden bridges were fun to cycle through, though I was in constant danger of cyclin goff them because of vertigo. Wen was forever running after the chickens to take pictures of them. I’d be cycling in front and turn back to find my old friend gone. Then she’d emerge from the bushes with a silly grin on her face. We found other interesting items to snap – a gas tank hanging from a tree branch. God knows what that story is.

We were going to cycle to a waterfall but half way through we decided we weren’t geared for it. I’d love to splash through 12 inches of mud for half and hour and jump into a crystal clear pool beside roaring waters, but we didn’t bring towels and extra clothing, and we were sort of in the middle of nowhere. So we cycled all the way back to Sematan and had a beer instead. The fun bit was racing away from the storm clouds after that.

We didn’t win, but thoroughly enjoyed the drenching.

The sea was so rough, it was surfable. That abetted my paranoia of crocodiles and sharks (yes, they do go out to sea, especially when there’s a mangrove swamp nearby). No croc or shark in its right mind would swim out in that swell. So the humans went out like mad hatters instead and went after the waves.

During Wen’s visit, I went for a second session of laser tattoo removal. Dr W reckons it should be done after another one or two sessions. He upped the power from 6.2, and also decided to try something new in one part, to see if it faded faster. I was all for that until he went, “Nurse, get me the peroxide”, that my eyebrows involuntarily raised six inches. I do like Dr W, bless his cotton socks. I’m into Week 3 now, and it’s fading pretty well. Interestingly enough, the second session hurt much less than the first. That's the arm before the session. It's even more faded now.

And then there was the wedding of the year. Another old and good buddy finally tied the knot. Over 1,000 people were invited, and she insisted on me bing the EmCee. *Gulp* I think I had my fair share of pre-wedding nerves for this one. And oh, the agony of choosing an outfit. I went with simple in the end. Not my ideal choice of simple, but there it was. My cousin from Oz came back just for this, and successfully surprised the bride to tears. Score! Cuz and I went and dolled ourselves up for the night. Let it be said that this is the first time ever that I sat down in front of a make-up artist and had my face painted to the nines. I almost fell asleep at the chair, it was that soothing and I was that zonked out.

So, for the next week or so after that, it was shopping and eating with my cuz and friends, pretty much. Then it was Christmas eve. And I had a small party at my house. There was turkey, lamb, Christmas ham, all kinds of salad, wine, prune cake…zowee. My favourites were the gingerbreak cookies, shaped like Gingy himself, amongst other things. I had to have a second dinner do after Christmas Eve just to finish off the leftovers.

Oh, and did I mention the engagement dinner on Christmas day itself? Someone got engaged and I ended up at this place called Li Garden, having a really really nice Chinese dinner. One of the best I’ve had in a long time. Very original dishes. But all the eating was starting to get to me because I hadn’t been to gym on a regular basis, and gym withdrawal was starting to loom. Actually, it is still looming. I should get in a really good X-circuit workout this evening. Woo hoo!
And then it’s more holidays and eating tomorrow and the day after (boo hoo). Gosh, is it 2009 already?

I have not been to the office for well over two weeks now. What a wonderful break. I didn’t think much of the work interruptions on Christmas eve and Christmas itself, but they were not big interruptions. Such is my work.

Meanwhile, I think I need to cleanse my system. Plenty of apple and lime juice for me. I really might be 90% vegetarian by the end of next year. It’ll be good for me. And just because.

Keeping Things Simple

2008-12-14T15:41:00.002+08:00

Keeping busy is a wonderful thing, but it does mean opportunity costs for things that lie beyond the to-do list, like blogging, for example.

The holiday season is upon us. I try to unclutter if I can, when I can. For those of you who aspire towards the same, here're some tips I found to be profoundly useful. Enjoy.

1. Don't let perfectionism ruin your holidays.

2. Make a list of 5 projects/tasks you want to finish before the end of the year.

3. Heed your limits of time and money.

4. When you start to get irritable - take a break.

5. Say what you want, instead of hinting.

6. You get to choose how busy you want this season to be.

7. Take a drive to see the lights.

My Redeemer Lives - Team Hoyt

2008-11-24T15:57:00.002+08:00

I need inspiration like this from time to time. Otherwise, it becomes easy for me to take things for granted, and to rest on my laurels, and forget to dream some more....

A son says to his father: 'Dad, would you be willingly to run a marathon with me?'

The father, despite his age and a heart disease, says 'YES'.

And they run that marathon, together.

The son asks: 'Dad, can you run another marathon with me?' Again father says 'YES'.

They run another marathon, together.

One day the son asks his father: ?Dad would please do the Ironman with me?'

Now just in case you wouldn't know, 'The Iron Man' is the toughest triathlon in existence; 4km swimming, then 180 km by bike, and finally another 42 km running, in one stroke.

Again father says 'YES'

You Win Some, You Learn Some

2008-11-06T08:51:00.008+08:00

This looks like some disgusting spawn of tadpoles in a milky brew of diluted mud water from the Sarawak River after a heavy downpour. But it's actually just my favourite vanilla iced latter from Coffee Bean downtown. I like the milky taste to it. Some of my friends have boycotted white coffee because of the melamine scare. Rightly so, I reckon, especially when they've been junk-foodding themselves a fair bit. I've always remembered that melamine was plastic plates and bowls, cos that's what they're made of. Melamine. The industrial chemical. Ingesting industrial chemicals is not a good thing. But I must emphasize that it's all about dosages. Especially when it comes down to healthy adults who have the ability to detox naturally. So I do indulge in my possible melamine-infested latte once every 6 months or so. I reckon people in this town should be more worried about melted plastic straws in their deep fried banana fritters and fried chicken, rubber in their sago jelly bits (they bounce), and cholesterol and sugar; and cigarette smoke.

For a while now, I've been listening to what I call 'happy music'. It's basically music with upbeat and positive lyrics. I figure, there's enough crap in the world. I don't need someone crooning about lost love, depression, death, abuse, drugs and what not. Why go with the flow when I can do better than the flow? So Jason Mraz and Jack Johnson are in. Gavin DeGraw too. Yoga and world music are in too, and I don't care what some Christians say, this category of music does have a calming effect on this Christian, ok?

The reason I like Jason Mraz's music is because this guy really walks his talk. His blog says many things about him and his great outlook in life. There's a part in Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours", where he sings,
Before the cool done run out
I'll be giving it my bestest
And nothing's gonna to stop me but divine intervention
I reckon it's again my turn to win some or learn some

To win some and learn some. What a fantastic way of looking at things. You win some, you learn some. And it's ok to change your mind about things too.

I've been spending way too long checking my tongue in the mirror
And bending over backwards just to try to see it clearer
But my breath fogged up the glass
And so I drew a new face and laughed
I guess what I'm be saying is there ain't no better reason
To rid yourself of vanity and just go with the seasons
It's what we aim to do
Our name is our virtue

So I changed my mind. I got it lasered off. I still think it's a fantastic, fabulous piece of art. I regret nothing, neither putting it on nor taking it off. For a variety of reasons that all boil down to ME, I have decided to do without it. For now.

And so the test of patience began a week ago. My current motto is "Fade faster, fade faster, fade faster". It's become a chant really. Frankly, I'm a tad disappointed with my immune system. For the laser breaks the ink up into tiny particles which are then absorbed by the body's own immune system. An ousting-the-foreign-objects sort of concept. Because my outline was done in dots, I can see the dots getting visibly smaller and more compact, and some have disappeared completely. But there are a helluva lot of dots. By the end of the first week, which was Tuesday, the fading was visible.

I've learned a lot about myself in the last couple of weeks. I've pushed my own boundaries and seen for myself what I truly think and feel about some things. It's not always clear what we think. We don't know ourselves that well. Win some, learn some.

Hup!

2008-10-30T16:17:00.001+08:00

I lurk around my house of windows very often, camera in hand, spying on the dogs, trying to get all sorts of cutesy shots. Because this is what they do if they see me.

Radical Art - Freedom of Expression, Freedom of Self

2008-10-26T13:12:00.011+08:00

I love tattoos. They are almost as sacred as Christianity to me. They are my personal spiritual journey. Those who know me and are close to me understand and accept that. Those who are not so close, think I am either a bit mad or way too bold and aggresive. There might be some truth in that, but they don't bother me at all. Life is so short. I need to be myself, feel free, before it ends. Tattoos are a lifelong adventure, much of which I have yet to experience. There is a part of me that secretly plans to give it all up and fly away for a year, or a few; and that part is intrinsically tied to the part of me that subscribes to the spirituality of tattoos.

Anyone who's followed my blog over the last 9 plus years would know enough to expect an occasional waxing poetic of tattoos from me. I've been an afficionado of body art since I was in secondary school. I took over 10 years to think about what tattoos mean to me, their permanence, the art of it, and what it would mean for me to have them. I chickened out of a potential disaster in Fremantle, Western Australia, when I was in university. I walked into a tattoo parlour with the stereotypical beer-bellied, Harley-Davison biker-type, bald, handlebar mustachioed tattooist waiting for me to pick a design out of a standard album. I picked a dophin. God knows why. Then I practically ran out, never to return. It was to be another 5 years plus before I bumped into an elderly Orang Ulu lady in the Upper Baram. She was Sab'n, from Long Banga. And she reminded me of my grandmother. It was my first trip up there. There was an encounter of sorts with a logger, and the whole thing is forever etched into my memory. She had soul-stirring tattoos on her legs.

I came back to Kuching, and my ankle band came into existence, inspired by the old Sab'n grandmother. Since then, I've commemorated special events in my life with them, and my cousin is only too happy for me to be his live canvas. It's my personal bejalai, a modern parallel to the traditional Iban way. He did his first traditional method tattoo on me. We've been collaborating for over nine years now. That's how long my love affair with tattoos have been.

I believe the first tattoo is the scariest of the lot. That decision to have it done. The permanence of it. The pain. (That can be quite spiritual). Most of all, the courage to be free to express yourself, be who you are, and to rise above and beyond social conformity.

I feel like I have, for myself, truly broken that barrier of conformity with my latest tattoo. You can hide tattoos. Have them in places that the sun don't shine. Secretly admire them in the privacy of your bathroom, or with a lover, and hide them when you go for that corporate meeting. No sweat. But my latest one. There's no way to hide it. I can be most discreet with it, but it will announce its presence to most.

But J and I have been planning my latest journey in tattooing for almost a year now. Something that shows the higher plane of my personal journey, and the evolution of J's technique. And so it happened. Just the outlining, as you can see, on my left arm. It flows from the work done on my back, shows off my shoulder and triceps quite nicely, tapers off on my fingers. Two and a half hours to design, and another 4 hours to outline it, in dots. It was perhaps the most exciting-scary-exhilarating. It's a 'coming out' statement for me. My friends are in awe more of the pain and the boldness of it. I think I need that boldness. It's being honest of who I am and what I want, and that measured freedom of choice that I choose to exercise. A strong statement of ME.

Two weeks later, I will go back and have it finished.

This is big. A huge big giant event in the life of Cyn. And it will take me some time to settle down, let alone others. So don't worry, I will be gentle with the folks around me.

For now, you could learn braille off of me. But I do feel as pretty as a flower.

2008-10-07T15:07:00.002+08:00

Baby vegies estimated survival rate: I'd say 50%. Simply because I haven't been taking care of the ones out in the bed. The ones under the ylang ylang seem....ok. Yes, I transferred some of them there because I ran out of space. The ones in the various pots are sort of stunted. I think the topsoil I used compact too easily. The ones that I haven't transplanted are thriving. Ho hum. I enjoy the experimenting. Though I also look forward to free vegies.

I have been sleeping at the recommended healthy time every night but am feeling mentally stunned and stunted for two days because of interrupted sleep. I think the next phase is getting myself to actually stand up when I do wake up at some uncivilized hour. Perhaps I could yoga myself back to sleep. Or deep breathe myself back to unconsciousness.

Am reading Lloyd Jones' Mister Pip, which is rivetting me to the pages so far. It's the sort of book I don't put down until I reach the last page.

Week in Review

2008-10-06T09:15:00.006+08:00

Trust that, on a day when the new pictures have not been uploaded, and the camera is not by my side, I have the itch to be chatty, bloggy and verbose.

Monday. Woke up. Smelt flowers. Watered flowers. Went to work. Worked out and hung out. Looked forward to the short week. Honestly, I don't remember what I did on Monday. Having non-existent short-term memory can be bliss.

Tuesday. Woke up. Watered the baby vegies, which were starting to look sorry and droopy....I really do not have much experience planting vegetables. I had help from my granny over 10 years ago. Yoga was good. I enjoy it a lot. Adventures abound in the journey to find one's centre. It's always interesting to stop that thought of wanting to thump someone on the head mid-way through deep breathing.

Wednesday. Hari Raya holiday Day 1! There was much soil to be shovelled from the flower bed. The pages on the journal finished, and a new journal from my stock of neverending plain paper journals of all shapes and sizes from all over was started. Always an exciting moment! Bought hippie clothes online. Indulge, indulge, indulge. Did not go for the last minute trek because had shopping date with mummy and sis and auntie. Woohoo! Well, I really do love trekking but it was too last minute and I love shopping almost as much and that was already planned. Transplanted all my baby vegies so they'd have more space. Survival probability, I'd say 75%.

Thursday. Coffee at the Spring. Peter came back. Peter is the guy who makes the Spring meaningful for my group of friends.

Friday. All I remember is the killer circuit class at gym. Dripping. That was what I was at the end of it. Oh, and more coffee at the Spring.

Saturday. Aching and recovering from Friday's workout. Big fun family party at HI in the evening. So fun that a friend from another wedding party in the same hotel kept popping down to join in. Meanwhile, another friend was falling asleep. I should've just smacked him. On second thoughts, better not. He's so skinny, I might do serious damage.

Sunday. Caught up with an old friend. Even more coffee at the Spring.

And for today's finale, I can't resist a photo........

Pepper and my chicken. If anyone out there can spare an old unwanted soft toy for her, I'd be most grateful. I really don't want my collectible softies saliva-ed, munched on and destroyed by Pepper Dog, cute and adorable as she is.

2008-10-02T20:39:00.002+08:00

The past two days have been bliss. This week really feels as short as it is. Hari Raya hols feels just like that. Hols. Bliss. It really is quite perfect. I couldn't feel more relaxed if I went on a holiday somewhere. I took a few photos of my flowers and garden but have been far too vegged out to upload them.

More soon.

Mooncake Festival

2008-09-15T12:25:00.005+08:00

The Mid-Autumn Festival falls on the 15th day of the 8th lunar month every year. Chinese people worldwide celebrate it. This year, the 15th of the 8th happens to fall on 14th October. There is no autumn in Malaysia. But there are lots of mooncakes around, being the nation of hobbits that we are. So at my house, there's usually a dinner, mooncakes and lanterns. Anything involving food and lots of family is always a plus in my book. I really like it when uncles, aunts and cousins come together for a party. There weren't any cousins around last night, but twin uncles and an aunt are fun enough. And, my sister's ginormously fat Chinese-looking Labrador came to play too, which is always fun because he is so adorable.

Legend has it that there once was an immortal called Houyi. He had a beautifully stunning wife, Chang'e, who worked in the Jade Emperor's (Emperor of Heaven) Palace as the attendant to the Queen Mother of the West (wife of the Jade Emperor). One day, Houyi aroused the jealousy of the other immortals, who then slandered him before the Jade Emperor. Houyi and his wife, Chang'e, were subsequently banished from heaven, and forced to live by hunting on earth. He became a famous archer.

In those days, there were 10 suns circling the earth, in the form of three-legged birds residing in a mulberry tree in the eastern sea. Each day, one of the sun birds would have to travel around the world on a carriage, driven by a deity. One day, all 10 of the suns circled together, causing the earth to burn. Emperor Yao, the Emperor of China, commanded Houyi to shoot down all but one of the suns. Upon the completion of his task, the Emperor rewarded Houyi with a pill that granted eternal life, and advised him: "Make no haste to swallow this pill; first prepare yourself with prayer and fasting for a year". Houyi took the pill home and hid it under a rafter, while he began healing his spirit. Houyi was summoned again by the emperor. Chang'e, noticing a white beam of light beckoning from the rafters, discovered the pill, and swallowed it. Immediately, she found that she could fly and began to fly out the window and towards the sky.

With a bow in hand, Houyi sped after her, and the pursuit continued halfway across the heavens. Finally, Houyi had to return to Earth because of the force of the wind was too great for him. Chang'e reached the moon, and breathless, she coughed. Part of the pill fell out from her mouth. Now, there was a hare on the moon, and Chang'e commanded the animal to make another pill from it, so that she could return to earth to her husband.

The hare is still there, pounding herbs, trying to make the pill. As for Houyi, he built himself a palace in the sun as "Yang" (the male principle), with Chang'e as "Yin" (the female principle). Once a year, on the 15th day of the full moon, Houyi visits his wife. That is why, on that day every year, there is a perfect full moon in the sky.

Well, that's the story I heard, anyway. There's at least 5 other versions of the story, including one that has Mongolian rebellions and hiding secret messages in mooncakes and holding out lanterns on the day. But I'm too lazy to type all that out today.

N.B. Houyi story taken from Wikipedia.

First Entry

2008-09-12T15:31:00.004+08:00

This is the absolute, without a doubt, FIRST blog entry I'm writing from MY house. Yes, MY HOUSE. MINE, MY OWN, BELONGING TO MUA.

In January, my house was ready to be bought. By me. I bought the house (which I have yet to name) in March. Moved in in April. Had it repaired and added the ALL-IMPORTANT library, new gate, which took, well, until this month.

So now I am finally in. The fridge is in. The stove is functioning. My all important blender is on the kitchen island. There's food, and, I might add, HEALTHY food around. The kettled just boiled.

The office is not a reality this self-created extended weekend.

Aaaaah...this is the life.

Ian was a fantastic, wonderful addition to life when he came. He's a much missed presence right now, but he'll be back, and I'll be seeing a lot more of him. We always joke that we're long lost twins. We think the same thoughts, often at the same time, we both have identical unusual things in our possession, and we complement each other.

No, we're not together. We're just twins.

Two Random Thoughts

2008-08-30T18:33:00.004+08:00

Two random thoughts just crossed my mind: 1. When I was very very little, I asked my dad where I came from. He told me I hatched from an egg. Young as I was, I didn't believe him. So I ran to my mum and asked her the same question. She shooed me off with an incoherent mumble (I'm sure she was not ready for that question. Added to which, she was busy at the kitchen when I popped it). Ever since then, I have always appreciated my dad's ridiculous sense of humour without quite trusting him completely when he starts spinning his yarn. Wisely so, I'm sure.

2. Ninety nine percent of Foochow men will look cute or gorgeous in their tweens. Twenty years later, when their 40 and above, 99.99% of them start to look like all of my Foochow grand-uncles. All six or seven of them (the grand-uncles, not the men). I swear, they look like quin- or sextuplets. I had a crush on a Foochow guy about 20 years ago. He was gorgeous, soft-spoken, kind and a true gentleman. I bumped into him recently. He was starting to look like my grand-uncles, but he was still soft-spoken, kind and a gentleman. And to my horror, I found that I still had a slight crush which manifested in my acting like a bloody schoolgirl in front of him. God, slap me silly and hide me under a rock right NOW. But, it was fun. What's the point of having a crush if I can't derive any schoolgirl fun out of it. Hah.

More about what I did in the last two weeks later.

Photo: My favourite photo of the month. Plus, I really feel like a snoozing cartoon right now.

Huff huff Puff Puff

2008-08-18T00:09:00.002+08:00

Busy. Working. Scheming.

Batang Ai. Back.

Matang.

Proper sentences, soon........

Happy Places

2008-07-30T20:10:00.005+08:00

No matter how positive and happy my outlook is, there are days that make a good try at cancelling those positive vibes out. Today is an example. Actually, today was great until one little event at the end of the workday. Skepticism of what I do by someone who has no idea what I do or why I do it, nor appreciate that fact that what I do is the unsung cornerstone of effective nature conservation - human dimensions. Oh well, he has always been known to show traits of arseyness, despite being intelligent. Supposedly. It's quite alright, my dear, you are allowed to get bitchy about the dullness of some people, especially this particular specimen of the opposite sex.

On the bright side, this calls for a revisit to various happy places.

1. I once told a Penan kid that I would put her on my 75L backpack and bring her back to Kuching with me. She believed me. Her mother was rolling on the floor giggling. That is just so me, making little kids half believe silly intentions whilst their mummies roll about laughing. I relish the mischief and that sort of sense of humour.

2. The beach, the beach, the beach. The more remote, the better.

3. Sunsets, sunsets, sunsets. The oranger, the better.

4. The moon, the moon, the moon. The more mysterious, the better.

5. Yoga, more yoga, morer yoga. Thank You for my Yoga masters. They are fantastic. I love their vibes. So calming, relaxing and invigorating at the same time.

6. Raw foodism. And the pursuit of raw foodism, and exploring raw foodism, and talking with raw foodists. Makes me happy. Go figure.

7. Toca Rivera, Jason MRaz, Toca Rivera, Jason MRaz, Toca Rivera, Jason MRaz. This is just so that googling 'Toca' will pull up this page. I am shocked and affronted that Toca is not given more recognition beyond just a few mentions on the World Wide Web. So this is just a test to see that if I mentioned "Toca Rivera" often enough, people who google "Toca Rivera" would see this page pop up in the top five search results. Who knows, the real Toca Rivera or Jason MRaz or their friends might just happen to google "Toca Rivera" for whatever reason. Oh, and I have Toca's phone number, if anyone is interested. SO, the phone number for Mr. Toca Rivera is..............

.........Come on, give the man some privacy! It does ring though. I tried.

And doing all that, makes me vibe positive. Ha.

Photo: One night, when moon was full and cloud was fat, the camera was ready and so I snapped...

My Eep Od

2008-07-15T12:36:00.000+08:00

My Sony Walkman S700 series bailed on me after two years of abuse. Three times a week, every week, for two years, banging against my chest or swinging around as I trash the cardio machines and the weights. Not good. So it was with great glee that I finally got an Eep Od for myself. Woo Hoo. O Musical Muse of Eternal Song, come to my ears. I also got speakers to go with it. So this month, I'm many many many $$$$$$ happier.

What's been happening in the world? Honestly speaking, I have not a clue. I have been kicking up my heels on much coverted downtown out of town, by a beach, with a bunch of friends, old and true.

I love my Eep Od. It has a playlist (amongst many) called Happy Music. What's there not to be happy about? Life is short, so make it good.

The Tubie that got me hooked on Toca

2008-06-18T23:32:00.003+08:00

Ladies and Gentleman, Noel 'Toca' Rivera, Jason Mraz's right hand man, buddy, vocalist and djembe-playing percussionist (vocationist).

Toca

2008-06-18T21:34:00.004+08:00

I stumbled upon Toca and now I'm a fan. Besides looking like my baby brother (he moves like baby bro too), Toca is one mean djembe playing machine. He's the vocationaist for Jason Mraz and Jason's good buddy. I Youtubed Jason's I'm Yours and saw Toca playing and singing next to him. Sorry, Jason, I love your music and but I think I love Toca more because he's Toca.

Photo courtesy of Backstage Pass and Jennifer Fong

2008-06-06T11:23:00.003+08:00

Man is nothing if he forgets the past. He achieves nothing if he does not live for the future. (Man as in male and female man, so don't start the whole gender debate, ya?)

I have always held an intense fascination for the past, especially the history that links my family to this place. Like the antique tiles that used to line the walls of my grandfather's shop, they tell a story of who I am. And that links me to the my own future. It is one thing to reminisce. An utterly useless act that bemoans what is past. It's quite another to empower oneself with the knowledge of the past and catapult to the abundance of the future. This is one of those random thoughts that snapped things into perspective. For me, anyway. The past is gone. My grandparents live on only in my memory. Their legacy lives on, though.

I was reminded just a while ago that the purpose of life is to prepare for eternity. That's very cool. It rings true to me, in any case. Life is a fly-by-night, a fleck in the universe, a bubble in the champagne. It really is. Think about it. We eat, we sleep, we grow old, we die. Is it enough just to live well, be nice and play fair? (and by 'well', I don't mean just the superficial luxuries)? It's just me, but I'd like to get down to the heavy spiritual stuff, thank you very much.

I'm tired, and rambly. I will read this tomorrow and laugh at myself for writing it down. Ha.

The Petrol Pooter Perfaffle

2008-06-02T09:31:00.004+08:00

Petrol prices have increased by what seems like a gazillian percent since last year (let's take it at a flat 30% since prices of goods have not been hiked up since yesterday's 40% increase just yet). But what it boils down to is this:
Kolomee then: RM2.20. Kolomee now: RM3.00 (36.4% increase)
Rice then: RM18 per 10kg pack. Rice now: RM25 per 10kg pack (38.9% increase)
1 sio bee then: RM0.40. 1 sio bee now: RM0.80 (100% increase)
1 drink at the kopitiam: RM1.20 then. The same drink at the kopitam now: RM1.60 (33.3%)
Airfares: let's not even go there...but you get the idea....
My salary then: 10 peanuts. My salary now: 11 peanuts (10% increase)

So, while I have 10% more moolah per month to play with, I am paying over 30% more for everything else in my life, 100% if I want to eat sio bee. WoohooWonderfulExcellent. Well, if we're not happy about things, change things or do something else to retain the balance, I always say. I'm going to have to figure out which is works better for me, change things, or do something else.

Eight Hours A Day

2008-05-30T08:47:00.003+08:00

Here's how I figure it. Most people spend more than half their life working to live (some live to work but let's not go there, that's another topic). Eight prime hours a day, five days a week. That's 40 hours a week, 160 waking premium hours a month, 33.33% of one's life. If a person lived to 80, that's 26 years, 7 months,29 days - a significant proportion, I would say.

By my reckoning, if people spend 33.33% of their life with colleagues, that makes them family. Time should only draw them closer. Otherwise,.....well, only sad, miserable creatures would make enemies, hate, or, worse still, not care about the folks that surround them 33.33% of the time?

Then again, many people are sad, miserable creatures. Losers.

By and large, the folks I'm with are good bunch of people, and the family element is definitely there. There might be one or two who don't see the light and tend to be sarcastic, selfish, judgemental and not that supportive. But that can be fixed.

My point is, life is short, work takes up a significant proportion of a short life. Don't waste bad sentiments and selfish intent at the workplace. Do that and the world will really be a better place.

It's not a dream. Mine's a reality.

2008-05-26T17:31:00.003+08:00

May 25th (yesterday) marked the first anniversary of my grandfather's passing. I was much much closer to my grandmother than I was to him. It wasn't that he didn't show any affection to me when I was kid or anything like that at all. He was a good grandpa to the very young me. But we drifted apart because I spent most of my time with grandma, who lived with us. They were separated for a long long time. He lived in his shophouse. She lived with us.

In many ways, the making of Cyn has always been formed by the influence of the women in this family. Men have always taken a backseat on this. My great aunt was a ~~hunter~~ huntress who toted a shotgun and hiked the much more pristine forests of 55 years ago. No kidding. She was. I never met her, but am told that I am like her (I don't hunt, though). My great-grandmother was the matriach of the family in all sense of the word. Nobody doubted that for one second. Even though in those days, the man had to be the head. But we all know who makes real decisions *wink*. Even today, I am surrounded by hard core badass women who know what they want and make it a point to get it. Pretty cool.

OK, end of family history lesson for the day. I am tired and want to enjoy my evening without thinking about work for one sec. Until tomorrow, anyway.

2008-05-25T12:14:00.003+08:00

My weekends are too short. But it's probably because I need so much time to recover from the weekdays. There's no particular reason that I should feel that my weekdays are unusually tiring. They just feel that way in the last two weeks. These things happen. It's part parcel of the circle of work. I am perhaps feeling a little worked out and peopled out. The idea of people is just not very appealing. I decided to put a stop to something that I have always kept secret and broken it off with Sam. My call. He was ok about it. I think. I mean, it was not a relationship at all. It was just a Thing we had. Mutual consensus. I don't like keeping secrets. And he was definitely a secret. Now that he is not anymore. Tra lala. He did do wonders to my confidence when he was around. But, honestly speaking, it couldn't have gone anywhere.

And so, here I am on a sunny Sunday noon, having overslept (waking up anytime after 8 is oversleeping in my book) and lazed about and done completely naught and feeling like a complete bum of the highest order.

I installed Big City Adventure San Francisco and Big City Adventure Sydney recently and got so addicted to them, I am starting to look like a nerd. I'll have to uninstall them all after today. I need to be more productive.

When It's Someone You Know

2008-05-21T12:10:00.003+08:00

Typhoons, cyclones, earthquakes. I went through life thinking of them as footnotes; sidebars that happen Out There. Not Here. There is a macabre fascination that we have with other people's disasters, especially when the international newsmongers flash their wares on the tube, in the papers, online. And we give a shiver of relief that it's not us. But still, it's dark entertainment, of a kind.

Until someone you know is gone because of one of these newsworthy events. She was a very sweet elderly lady, End's granny. Four foot tall, big smile, bigger glasses. We got along really well the two times that I visited. I have some really lovely photos of her. She has the sweetest smile and her oversized glasses just accentuated her sweetness.

She was on her way to a neighbour's house. I can see her in my mind right now, doing her cute little shuffle. I don't have the full details. But it was during the Indonesian mudslides and torrential rain of a few months ago. Her children told her not to go out of the house. But being her, she did anyway.

They didn't find her until two days later. Not far from End's house. She didn't stand a chance against the flood waters that came her way that day.

The one thing End and I are thankful for is the wonderful memory we have of her. Ours are not the images of her lifeless, but the opposite.

2008-05-20T20:59:00.002+08:00

The first thing I see when I wake up every morning is the blue sky through my ample windows, which I love. I don't draw the curtains at night (I'm high up enough not to worry). The heat's been unbearable lately. I have been loathe to move, let alone gym. And yes, methinks the ample physyque doth begins to resemble the behemoth.

But I do so enjoy the house. The dogs are lovely. The study room is lovely. The library will eventually be up. Tomorrow, the plumber is coming to fix two of the toilets. Ah, the joys of owning property.

At 90

2008-05-19T17:08:00.002+08:00

Not too long ago, we threw a grand birthday bash for my grandmother. She is 90 years old this year. In the time that she has been alive, she has lived through two world wars, seen the coming of refrigeration, commercial flying, computers, private ownership of motorized vehicles, the internet, wifi, zippers, Nike, Reebok and the rest of them, spandex, lycra, and most of the luxuries that we take for granted today.

She is much loved. For her bash, her brothers and sisters (she's the eldest), nephews, nieces, grand-nephews, grand-nieces and great-grandchild came from all over the region to be with her.

The one measure of a life well-lived is the coming together of all who love you at your 90th birthday party.

Photo: Mama beaming with pleasure, and with a shawl wrapped around her lovingly by one of her nieces.

Enter At Own Risk

2008-05-15T00:30:00.003+08:00

I am temporarily at a mental standtill of fairly monumental proportions. It just is not working. The brain, I mean. The layers of intelligentsia, culture, finesse, panache, whatnot. All gone on on vacation at the mo. What is left is an aggro sort of beastie type, ruthless and hungry for blood. Quite thrilling, yet bad for the soul.

Methinks perhaps a time of solitude to write proposals is in order. Otherwise, there might be casualties at work, victims of my bloodlust. I actually do have a couple of folks in mind whose heads I would love to chew on from there. Just for the heck of it. Maybe it really is time to put the patient, nice me aside and unleash the office bitch. That would be fun. See how they run. Shall I Shall I Shall I oh please, Shall I?

Service Smervice

2008-05-14T23:25:00.003+08:00

The service industry in this country sucks like a giant baby on a tree-sized lollipop.

This is where incompetent travel agents yell at their clients.

This is where they call their clients' office and sobs into the telephone.

This is where they try and feed their clients bullshit.

And this is where this client screams back and insists on talking to their manager to make a formal complaint, who incidentally, does not have the professional courtesy to call back.

And this is where this client connects with other travel agencies and dumps the incompent one like a rock smeared with dog turd.

Zen

2008-05-13T23:47:00.004+08:00

It's been a rather taxing day. The travel agent screwed up my accommodation booking and could not rectify it. Nevermind that I made it clear, 4 times, what I needed. They screwed up, and finally wrangled a replacement hotel, very high end, extra expense on them. I gave them a piece of my mind and had them do some running around. But, in the end I decided to decline their offer of staying at the Eastin. Simply because I do not trust them to have the booking right.

There are a few reasons I am not too bothered about the wasted time, the waiting, the telling people off: a new rug, a new rug, a new rug.

It's a short trip, but I'm hoping to meet up with the Worm. Stupidly, I lost her number when I changed my phone. Call me, Wormy.

2008-05-12T21:52:00.003+08:00

Having a house of my own is such fun. A few of my friends pooled together and bought me a really fantastic coffee table. Friends and loved ones gave a dining table set, a new stove, free drilling service so I get to hang my own photos on the wall (photos that I took, not photos of me. Puhleez). I feel so blessed. Obi Wan gets the back garden to himself. I get the front. He does invade the front lawn when he pleases. I don't mind. Pepper visits a lot. I'm in the process of shifting Cookie in. She'll need some time though. She's slim enough to slip through the drain and escape; and she has done so a few times. So I had to bring her back to my folks' place. I'm waiting for people to do up some minor fittings. But I am enjoying the house immensely. They say that love penetrates the walls of a house. I'm giving mine a lot of love vibes. Hopefully, it will ooze love. Ha. Seriously though, it's open to my church group anytime. I think it's vitally important that there was a dedication and prayer session here before I moved in. These things are important to me.

Financially, it does take away a significant portion of cash flow away from me. But it's an investment. In lifestyle and financially. It's landed property, and it's not that small a house. Heck, for one person, it's positively humongous. Even if it's one person plus dogs.

Photo: Misty mountain air surrounds a tree en route to the peak of Mt Kinabalu.

Four-legged Escapades

2008-05-09T09:19:00.005+08:00

She makes it a point to maneuver past my legs like how Eowyn and Merry waeve past the gargantuan legs of the mamukil, and zoom towards my bedroom door. Without fail, especially when my mother is not looking. If the door is shut, she sits down and waits haughtily, as if she is owed an open door. If it is open, she speeds towards my bed and does a dive bomb into it. The entire act takes a matter of seconds. I normally have a throw-over on my bed just for the occasion. I would watch a DVD. She would snore, or watch with me if it's her type of movie. Sunday afternoons are normally our let's-spoil-the-dog-while-mum-is-not-looking day. My father is co-conspirator. When the wife is out, the dog gets to go upstairs to his TV room. And End, oh End just loves cuddling her. Her muzzle is so soft and velvety (the dog's. End doesn't have a muzzle).

The dog just loves it. And we love indulging her. Honestly though, who can resist a face like that?

In Perspective

2008-05-07T15:54:00.003+08:00

There is a coffee place that we meet up in, almost every day. I've taken to bringing my own coffee container there just for the homeliness factor. We talk about a lot of things, the few of us who have known each other for, oh, going on for 8 years now with. And it's just so nice and comfortable to do that. All different walks of life, very different people; but so familiar with each other's lives. How do you not become family after that?

Things like that take up a large proportion of my day. Coming home to Obi Wan and Pepper is a very nice feeling. Preparations for the specialist coaching and teaching take up some time; keeping in touch with friends out of town; planning the house decor; and work, of course.

And that's why the blog gets neglected. Heck, even the writing suffers somewhat. I make no promises to start blogging with fervour, but I will be less blog-inert after this week.

Hopefully.

Photo: A tree I met somewhere outside of Miri. It's perspective that counts, ain't it...

Moving Out

2008-05-04T10:35:00.003+08:00

I moved into my own house yesterday. That's a view of the kitchen area. Bought the place recently in a great location. Really great neighbourhood. Nice little place. Not so little for one person, but as is, it's one person with 2 dogs. They have their garden at the back. They mostly leave my garden in front alone.

There's no living room furniture yet. I think that can wait. I don't know what to expect, but this is probably the most major thing I've done in my adult life.

On Top of the World

2008-05-04T10:10:00.003+08:00

I have always always wanted to go up Mount Kinabalu. But my knee and feet injuries have always forced me to shelve the idea. I suppose they also made me more determined to prove that I can do it in spite of them. I started climbing again last year. Small local bumps and treks like Santubong and Bako, and Serapi. To build up confidence.

I would say that the road up Kinabalu is a lonely one. But a welcomed sort of aloneness. There is plenty of time to think, especially when you have that resthouse three thirds of the way up the mountain in your sight and it takes another hour to reach it and your knee is up to your chin because of the steepness; or when you're wondering what the hell possessed you to take this on when you're climbing in the dark at 3am in the morning in the blistering cold, and you're dangling on a road halfway up the mountain, and your ignorance is truly bliss because on the way down, you think, how the shit did I get up with this bit of string and oh hell I have to go down the same way again.

It was very drab and gray the day I did the final ascent. I was the slowest and the last one to drag my feet up. But being slow had one very important advantage - no altitude sickness. On the way down from the summit, the rain came down in sheets. The rock surface was turned into beds where streams of water shot down at high speed. There was little sunrise and very quickly, all was obliterated by heavy mist. Very un-April like conditions, they say.

Our guides were these little hobbit-like Kadazan-Dusuns from the mountain. Amazing people. They are about 4 feet tall and strong as a dozen oxen. Very decent folk. Patient beyond words and completely unjudgemental.

I lugged up my camera, which seemed to weight about 50 pounds, but I was too busy huffing and puffing to take many photos. The ones that I took weren't really to my satisfaction. My hands were shaking too much from the cold or from exertion.

The shopping spree and pampering that followed in KK city after the climb was a force to be reckoned with. My friends and I had amazing fun; a lot poorer after, but fun.

On A Sunny Sunday....

2008-03-22T23:48:00.003+08:00

Someone pointed out a post to me recently. I don't normally waste my time on this particular person's blog (psst..cos I don't like them very much at all). Anyways, there it was. Didn't like the post very much neither. But it did draw out a point to me. We who blog often do so under interesting, often funny, sometimes sad, delusions. Notice I say often. I know plenty of bloggers who keep a healthy check on their reality. You know who you are, Becks and Peter, Chet, Gette, amongst many. That made me do a quick check of my reality and my perspectives.

Here is my reality: the fact that I will move out into my own house soon. Yes, my own house; the fact that I have my own dogs in my own house (..ok, fine, one of them is shared custody); the fact that I am a little stressed out from pushing my boundaries non-stop in the last month and a half; the fact that I am going on a holiday in a few hours' time (yay); the fact that I have a bunch of good people whom I call friends and family, and as mixed bags normally are, they don't and don't have to see eye to eye all the time; the fact that I don't blog or write much at all these days because there is so much to do - at work, at play, at home; the fact that I took a blind step out of my comfort zone which is reaping some benefits now, even though I'm still out of my comfort zone; the fact that I have a big thing to do by November 1st which will take me further away from my comfort zone. Not sure about that one, but it's something I need to do at some point.

So there it is. Unusual that I should have time to blog today. But it's an opportunity born of disopportunity. One man's shit is another's fertilizer, as they say, or something like that.

Photo: sunset at Santubong Bay. Copyright Cyn

Goodbye Stryker

2008-03-10T10:53:00.005+08:00

Stryker C. aka the Lion King, died on 6 March, 2008. He was almost entirely blind, and quite deaf. He was 18 years old. Jelly the Cat, his best buddy and bestest pal, spent the night crying and looking for him. I was very sad to hear of his passing, but at least he is keeping my grandmother company now, along with all our extended family dogs who have gone ahead.

Photo copyright J.C. 2007

Furry

2008-02-24T20:47:00.002+08:00

My Friend Bern and His Friend

2008-02-24T20:11:00.000+08:00

Welcome to the Predator's Lair

2008-02-17T19:56:00.003+08:00

'Tis the season to prey. It;s my torture chamber motif.

The Condition of My Blog

2008-02-17T19:24:00.001+08:00

No Time For Words

2008-02-12T21:55:00.002+08:00

In A Pig's Tail

2008-02-09T19:54:00.000+08:00

The tail of the Pig has not been a good one for many of my friends. So they're all looking forward to a fine old Rat year.

Chinese New Year is always a struggle for me. I fight for rest and relaxation but being Chinese, I do the obligatory welcoming of visitors to the house. Personally, I only visit old friends whose company I enjoy anyway, and family I am already in constant contact. Let's be honest, why visit people just because and why impose oneself on family one hardly knows?

I also don't invite people to my house, because my house is always open and if they want to visit, they visit. Besides, if I say, "Come to my open house", I'll end up entertaining legions and not have time to truly sit down with friends to have a good chat. Again, what is the point?

That said, I had a pleasant one this year. I still have not had that R & R I wanted, but I had fun with friends, plus a couple of splashing abouts in the pool. The weather has been arsy. The rain is starting to get depressing. And I just heard that End's village is completely flooded.

The shopping, on the other hand, has been fantastic. My wardrobe has finally burst open. No kidding. It has. There was a small explosion and the walls blew off. So now I'm going to have to wear out my clothes faster than I did before. Perhaps I should stop washing them just so they'll rot faster. And then I can go shop for more.

2008-01-20T21:42:00.000+08:00

First day of Chinese New Year and what do I do? Go for a swim. I was queen of the blue blue pool. The rest of the place was quiet as a mouse. Or should I say quiet as a rat since it is the first day of the Year of the Rat.

This is bliss, really. What I wanted. Quiet do. This is the first year that my I don't have both my paternal grandparents with me for Chinese New Year. Frankly speaking, the festival kinda died for me when grandma died. Still, there was grandpa to visit down at the shop. But since grandpa died last May, it just isn't the same. Oh, of course there's still mom's mom, and grandma's sister and brother. But it still isn't the same.

So I took to the pool in an attempt to fight off the slobbishness. It works too.

T-4 Days

2007-12-27T16:51:00.000+08:00

It's Christmas. Past Christmas, actually.

I'm busy. Christmasing.

And New Yearing.

What about you?

Old Stomping Ground

2007-12-07T23:35:00.000+08:00

Just came back from my old stomping ground - the Baram. Spent a very nice few days up there. Met some old friends from the two Longs that I used to spend so much time in. Visited the 300-foot waterfall that I have always loved. The last time I was at the falls was about 10 years ago. It was dry season then so I could go all the way up and looked down from the edge. Yesterday, it was spewing white mist from 300 feet up. Amazing. I could've looked at it for hours. Days, even.

As always, it's like you stepped through a lost world when you're there one day and back in town the next. I miss the forest. I'm thinking of going up there to visit Pasimbasimba's site next year. It's near my old trails.

Lao Children

2007-12-03T23:19:00.000+08:00

School kids from Bolikhamsai District, outside of Vientianne.

2007-12-02T14:04:00.000+08:00

Laos, KL, back to Kuching. Then Miri and then KL again. All within the span of 35 days. My house is starting to feel like a hotel. Ha. But I'm tired. Right now, I'm only half way through the travel schedule. Miri is coming up, and then KL again. I'm not complaining though. It's been fulfilling. And I mean the long term type of fulfilling, not the cheap thrill, 30 seconds of feel-good factor type.

Photo: Blue skies and sunny days are what we have not right now. It's been raining 24hours x 3 days straight now. But I have sunny Sulawesi to remind me.

Lemons

2007-12-01T10:20:00.000+08:00

I spent hundreds of bucks on an external hard drive and happily backed up my photos on it, and found that a good bunch of my stock got corrupted just a few short months after.

Thank God I'm pedantic when it comes to backing up. The hard drive is a lemon because the supplier I went to sells lemons. Idiot.

Photo: One of my sunsets that survived.

2007-11-22T00:01:00.000+08:00

Vat Mixay, downtown Vientianne.

2007-11-18T15:38:00.000+08:00

One thing that I haven't done in Vientianne is to take a tuk tuk. It's such a pedestrian friendly city that there is no reason to. The morning market holds many attractions for me, being the ethnophile that I am.

Waiting to go for yet another massage in an hour or so. Yesterday's massage was so good, I actually fell asleep and was probably snoring because I open my eyes and saw the masseuse stifle a giggle. It was that good. Definitely one of the best, if not the best massages I've ever had (and I have had a lot). Nalini was completely zonked out next to me. Her masseuse was stifling a giggle too. Ha.

Sabai Dee

2007-11-15T21:59:00.000+08:00

Vientianne is the most charming city I have come across yet. Great food, reasonable prices, lovely people. If it stays the way it is for the next 50 years, I will consider retiring here. But of course, it will not stay that way. It the last innocent trapped by neighbours hungry to be the first to exploit it for profit. By 2010, 200,000 mainland Chinese will have relocated here - an agreement made by the Lao government to mainland China in exchange for the SEA Games stadium. Meanwhile, Malaysian giants are here building dams and bleeding the country resources, as are giants from Italy, Japan, you name it.

But this week. This week, I wander the streets of Vientianne, drinking and eating Laotian and authentic French food in turn, the French food being a remnant of the French colonizers of pre-1970s. There are Scandinavian bakeries and italian bistros too.

I have work, of course. But never have my work trips been so much pleasure as it is here in the Land of A Million Elephants, the Paris of the East. What absolute charm. What absolute blessing too, to have a job that takes me to places like this.

Local people speak to me in Lao, not being able to differentiate my looks from theirs, but are nonetheless very gracious when I indicate my ignorance.

Photo: the Scandinavian bakery a stone's throw from my hotel. There is also much remnant French architecture in Vientianne.

2007-11-09T23:01:00.000+08:00

My act of love for today. Ba's headstone came. And managed to wedge a good sized lump in all our throats. It's really quite lovely. Uncle D and I put it on her spot under the tree. I actually would like to go there more often now that it's there.

But I'm off to Laos tomorrow. Mixed feelings, really - excited, apprehensive, worried that I have been too busy to prepare for it workwise, and intensely missing Ba, of course. But, here's the checklist:

Packing - check
Camera - check
Laptop - check
mp3 - CHECK!
Toiletries - check, I think...
Passport & documents - check
Anti-depressants - I lost them. But I think it's divine intervention that I did. STOP TAKING THEM LIKE A CRUTCH, WOMAN!
Reading material - check (Stephen Fry's Hippoppotamus and Debbie Seaman's A Handbook for Fearful Flyers

Full on until the after the first week of December!

2007-11-03T21:30:00.000+08:00

Heello, November......zzzzzzzzzzzzz

2007-10-31T20:49:00.000+08:00

I'm not very sure I am ready to move on to another entry. Two rather significant events have been initiated by yours truly recently, the outcome of which remains entirely uncertain. Nonetheless, I have rolled the pebble that could possibly cause the proverbial avalanche. So there you go. Godspeed, come what may.

I'm a tad tired of things. I suppose that is not much of a surprise, considering the number of demises (is there a plural for the word?) this year. It's that time when one would not mind staying on one's own private isle for a bit. C'est la vive.

I have been reading diligently, not surprising since it is one of two activities I can totally immerse myself into (the other being bushwhacking) with relentless focus.
Naturally, book-shopping to acquire the reading material is half the pleasure, which means I now have a smoldering pocket still smoking from the hole I've burnt through it with my indulgence.

Books bought in October:
1. The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly
2. Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman
3. The Lost World by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
4. The Timewaster Diaries by Robin Cooper
5. The Fearless Flyer's Handbook by Debbie Seaman
6. Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer

Books Read in October:
1. The God of Small Things by Arudhati Roy (a gift from a friend)
2. The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly
3. Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman
4. The Lost World by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
5. The Timewaster Diaries by Robin Cooper
6. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (re-read)
7. The Fearless Flyer's Handbook by Debbie Seaman
8. Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer
9. The Memory-Keeper's Daughter by Kim Edwards (borrowed - still reading)

Photo: The little fort by the waterfront, Kuching.

Sheba

2007-10-21T22:04:00.000+08:00

Sheba C.: 8 January, 1999 - 16 October, 2007

Sheba came to me as a welcome-home gift. A frantic puppy greeting me with wet kisses and stump for a tail that looked like a vibrating button. One look at her, and you had to fall in love. She was smart, sassy and opinionated. And what a face. She let you know when she was pissed off, and she knew when to comfort you. She was our angel on earth, a being who gave unconditional love without judgement.

She was there when Dozer, my old friend, her predecessor, died. She howled in grief the second my granny died. Granny loved her in her own way. Used to call her ‘Siva’ and ‘Cheeba’ interchangeably. She was with us when we pulled down the old house to rebuild it and moved somewhere else temporarily while that was being done. Most of all, for End, she came to us the same year that End did. She was End’s introduction to me.

What do I say? She lit up my life. She lit up all our lives. We had walks, we had car rides. She loved car rides. She has..had..a special yellow quilt for car rides. We buried her in it. She used to have a fantastic sway in her backside when she walked. Left, right, left right. It was a definite strut.

When End had to leave for nine months last year, she suffered her worst bout of tick fever. By the time she recovered, she slowly lost the use of her hind legs. Thence started an intensive bout of therapy designed by those of us who love her, with DC, RC and JC coming in almost every night to give her physiotherapy. We built the wheelchair for her. We built her a radioflyer, a special Ba-sized one. And she started to walk again.

Before that final day, before the tumour, she fought the paralysis and she learned to walk again. We had more car rides; and pulled her along on the radioflyer around the neighbourhood. Cars stopped and stared in wonder at the spectacle that was us.

Not long after End came back, the cancer came upon her. It grew so big and so ugly. I hated it so much. Slowly but surely, she started her final journey. She didn’t really go, you know, until I told her it was ok, and that I would be fine. Less than 2 days, and she left, like how I prayed for - in her sleep. She just didn’t wake up the next day. She looked at me that night. One last look. Fool that I was. I thought I had one more week with her. I thought I was going to come back from KL next Wednesday and see her.

I smelt her the other day. A whiff from where she used to lay, by the VW bug. And the second time, her scent was on my fingers, distinctly. I was at the office at the time. And the same day, I smelt her in the breeze. It was her scent, and then it changed to something else.

For me, there is a Ba-shaped hole in the universe now. Just like there is a granny-shaped hole. Nothing can fill them of course. But that’s ok. We go on. Until it’s time not to go on any longer.

2007-10-15T21:10:00.001+08:00

2007-10-15T12:08:00.000+08:00

I don't necessarily want to be physically up the mountain today, but mentally, yes, please.

At the Beach

2007-10-06T11:01:00.000+08:00

I think that's Chris playing with sand. Put a bunch of adults and kids together for an afternoon at the beach (after a hike through the forest), the adults end up playing at building sand castles.

Read the Chair

2007-10-04T21:47:00.000+08:00

Finally, after 4 years, I have moved the chair I bought for the sole purpose of parking my ass when I read to its rightful place - in my special reading niche. I kick myself for not doing it sooner. I am in love with it. I am enamoured with the matching foot rest. I am reading more than ever in a long time. I sit in it, and brings me to special places, including peaceful calms like that boat ride I took when I took today's photo.

I named it Read (please, its 'red', not 'reed'; read as in the past tense of read).

Man

2007-10-02T14:30:00.000+08:00

He was completely sloshed at 9.30 in the morning. I was admiring his tats until I got within a few feet of him and the waft of langkau permeated the expanse of air between him and I.

He seemed to think that I was deaf, and that my ears were on my nostrils. And so he yelled into my nose.

Still like his tats, though. Wonder what bejalai stories they hold.

Tagged

2007-10-01T13:41:00.000+08:00

Wormy invited me specially to do this tag. So I am.

The tag is, I have to put up a snapshot of my desktop, with all the icons on it and give a simple explanation why I chose that particular picture as my desktop view.

Righto. That's my desktop up there. It's a panorama of Snake River in Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming. I love views like that. I get drawn to downloading views like that on Webshots. They remind me that life is bigger than the individual, that there is a lot of beauty out there, despite the problems that people cause.

As you can see, there aren't a lot of icons on my desktop. I hate clutter on the 'top. There's just the usual Recycle Bin, My Computer, things that I can't delete or am too chicken to in case the sky falls on my head if I do. The only thing of note there is a 'Done' folder, which tells me what things I've accomplished in each month, since I have a leaky memory when it comes to things like that. My desktop serves no other purpose that to afford me nice pictures and views throughout my work day. I normally call up my usual programs from the keyboard or from the shortcut keys.

Who am I tagging this on?
Peter
Life's Journey
As the World Turns
On Cloud Nine
Shopaholic On Board

Six Things

2007-09-29T18:51:00.000+08:00

I went dolphin-watching. Saw everything but dolphins. Did an evening tour of the Santubong River, starting from Buntal. I love boats. I love the feel of the boat slicing through the water, and the sound of the water slapping back at the sides of the boat. I’m happy with or without the dolphins, ‘s long as I’m in a boat. Did see plenty of other wildlife though - macaques, proboscis monkeys, hundreds of egrets roosting on branches in the black of night, and a crocodile.

The following weekend, I managed to stumble onto a secluded beach during a hike. Oh, alright, I exaggerate. I was making my towards the beach, on a 6-hour hike. I just didn’t expect it to be so deliciously secluded, with such an air of mystery to it. Nor did I anticipate the 80-degree slope leading to the beach, the one with the rope at the end for my to rappel down with. That was a satisfying walk.

Then there was the 39-year-old brother of a friend who collapsed in front of his family and died, just like that. This is not an unhealthy slob that I speak of. This is a sportsman who travelled the world doing what he loves. It’s a sad, devastating loss for the family. But to go like that, with a bang, in my prime,...I wouldn’t disregard that as a good thing, you know.

At the same time, an old acquaintance is in KL waiting for kidney transplant surgery. She needs a cheap room near the hospital. Otherwise, she can’t afford to stay in KL. I’m trying to get her a room. It’s in the process.

Blackie died today. He was at least 11. I was party to the decision to put him down. And no, I did not like that. Nuff said.

An elderly friend called me this afternoon. I had been wanting to call her all week, but like an arse, I let less important things disguised as important cloud my judgement. She’d been unwell. She’s alone. I’m an arse.

Is it a wonder then that towards the end of the week, that I should want to put up a nice big green leafy photo to make me feel just a little better?

Life in Real Time

2007-09-16T21:50:00.000+08:00

As much as the writing bug is making a slow comeback to bite me weakly in the ass (and a very slow, weak bite it is), the truth is, real life is happening way too fast and too furious for me to make time to write, be it in this blog, in the ol' journal, or the great Novel of Life I have been planning since I was six. Far be it from me to complain about life. It's happening, I am happy. Social life is great, family life is full of good conversations. What more does a person need nor want?

When I get online, I'm either busy with online chats, emails, other sites that one signs up for to network with faraway family and friends, or I'm watching one of two drama series I've become addicted to on borrowed DVDs. I've not been lugging the camera around for a while, much to my own dismay. I really should. My life is full of capturable moments, whether they be friends to embarrass online (as we see here today), or just moments in time that will never come by again.

Otherwise, I've been trekking the trekkable places in and around town, with a bunch of pretty nice folks. But that's not a weekly thing exactly, even though it does give me a fantastic rush of serotonin.

I am planning a wine dinner for a select few this Saturday. I'm not really looking forward to a day at the office tomorrow, though I'm hoping to end it with a delectable dolphin-watch, weather prevailing. What can I say, what's life without the minuses to balance out the plusses.

Oh, on another note, it never ceases to amaze me how some people can actually believe that they can be online and be unsearchable. Once you blog, you're plotable. That simple. How stupid can you get to think otherwise? I'm happy with the knowledge that some friends, relatives, colleagues, bastards, arses, whatever.. no matter how unlikely.. will come across my blog. So there.

I'm quite sad to announce that one of my favourite blogs, Every Topic in the Universe, or Omni, as I call her, has decided to stop blogging. She's decided to concentrate on writing, which is fantastic for her, but bad for me, cos I'll miss her entries. And boy this woman can write. It takes her weeks to do one single entry. And let me tell you, it's a mighty meaty entry at that. I'm ashamed to report that it only takes 20 minutes for me to do one entry at most. And you can tell too, by how tongue-in-cheek and weak my contents are. ha.

Right, my 20 minutes are up. I'm off to do something mindless.

8020

2007-08-25T11:04:00.000+08:00

Eighty-twenty. The theory is, you eat healthy meals 80% of the time and you can be naughty with all the sexy double chocolate cheesecake, kolomee and roti the remaining in the remaining 20%.

Oh come now.

2007-08-22T20:26:00.000+08:00

It’s happening. Life. For me. I’m enjoying every moment. That’s the upside and it’s all great for me. The downside is that I don’t have the time to share it as much online anymore; and I’m finding it harder and harder to make the time.

I am thankful for the current abundance. I feel rich. My weekends are full. I took a breather for some genuine R & R last Sunday. The old S9500 is as faithful as ever, even though I am shamelessly coveting the Nikon D40x right now. As I move on, I’m beginning to see the fallacies in Fuji lenses and appreciating the high end ones like Nikon. BUT, no colour sensor can beat Fuji yet. As it is, I am prepared not to part with my old faithful until it falls apart.

Anyways, I was at the beach. It was beyond fantastic. The company was awesome, the conversations, wonderful. What can I say, it’s such simple pleasures that make life extra fine.

A Decade in A Blink

2007-08-09T13:33:00.000+08:00

Ten years ago this month, I was preparing to go into the forests of Danum Valley in Sabah, my first ever venture into Deep Dark Borneo. I had just graduated, lived 6 years away from the country, not quite wanting to give up that lifestyle just yet. But here I was. I came back in July 1997. I remember scaling our 10-foot gate because I wanted to surprise my parents. (They were out).

I had had an email from the person who would later become my boss. They wanted somebody who was actually interested in the job at hand and not some prat who just wanted to warm a cushy seat behind a fancy desk. It seemed interesting, but I wasn't quite ready to return to the country just yet. But I was curious, there were no immediate prospects over there, and this thing just landed on my lap. So there you go.

Ten years. I'm not where I started off, but I'm still working for the same purpose. Strangers kept commenting on my tattoos yesterday. So I got to looking them again. And then I realized it's 10 years to the month. I started the body art thing when I decided that there were just events in life that needed a special way of remembering. And it all started with being in jungles and meeting the people there.

All said, that first sojourn into Danum wasn't as glamorous or as big a splash as my other adventures. In fact, I sucked big time. But the fact that it was my first made it memorable.

It has been an amazing 10 years. The things I've learned. Amazing.

August 2017. Now there's something to wonder about.

A Block of Sorts

2007-07-30T22:12:00.000+08:00

As of May this year, there are about 60 million blogs online; more now that it’s July. That’s 60 million of 6.6 billion people on earth. Not a small number. Every blogger has something to say. Every blogger has a right to say their something. Every blogger has a photo to share, and to each their own beholdment of beauty.

Me, I’m a little tire of stringing words together. It’s become a little hard to appreciate what I deemed to be my art. It’s gotten to the point where if it’s not as nicely put as C.S. Lewis, or as imaginative as J.K. Rowling, or as well thought out as Tolkien, then perhaps I shouldn’t bother at’all.

It’s not writer’s block. Good heavens, when have I ever been a writer? Perhaps more of a non-writer’s non-start, for since when have I really started to write? Well, perhaps I did, a long time ago. Never finished any one of them though.

The idea of camera in hand, traipsing around town, crawling about in tunnels and drain has dulled a little too.

BUT…there is some quickening of the pulse. It is likely that the hand shall once more feel the familiar weight of the camera; and skin shall tango with black plastic once more.

On the other hand, I’m not so sure that the quickening would do anything for the pen. No amount of quickening ever did. All I have to show for it is 20 years of journaling and a fetish for leather diaries.

2007-07-30T17:42:00.000+08:00

Bruce died today one year ago.

2007-07-26T12:33:00.000+08:00

I wasn't born yet in this photo. There's granny and Kong Kong, who are both not around anymore. Strange feeling, to not have these people around after an entire life time of their being there. Mom must have just given birth to my sister. Dad (standing first from the far right) was skinny as a twig. Gosh.

There are eight of them altogether, and all are there in the photo, though not in order of age. Classic oldie, this one.

2007-07-07T10:07:00.000+08:00

Sometime in November/December last year, Sheba caught a series of seriously bad tick fever which rendered her semi paralyzed in the hind legs. I got a wheelchair for dogs for her specially designed and made, thanks to Uncle George, Dad's good friend who's also an architect. It cost us 600 bucks but it did help her get the circulation going. My two twin uncles came almost every night to give her therapy. I, of course, was distraught and quietly hysterical when people weren't looking.

A masseuse friend of mine came and gave her intensive massage for about 2 months straight. I am so grateful for these people, these friends and loved ones who came through for me. Six months on, I was starting to lose hope. Then one day, she decided to stand up, very shakily, but stood up she did. It was the dalmatian that made her. Sheba has it in for Cookie the Dalmatian, so one day, she decided to go for her. Stimulus. That was what my Sheba needed.

So I started to bring her for car rides again, and brought her to my grandfather's place (this was a few months before he died). Not long after, she would move herself to the gate every time I brought the other dogs out for their walks. So I had a cart made for her, kind of like a radio flyer type pull-along. The first walk out, she jumped out of the cart and made her way up the slight slope.

Not long after, she was walking, though only when she felt like it, always a little shaky, like a recovering stroke patient. Then one day, she toppled over and lay there whining. But she got up again and seemed OK. She fell another time. And after a while, we noticed that she was limping, with her right fore foot held up. So we had her rest and not excite her too much, rubbing her down with Deep Heat every night before her bedtime. And we noticed that she right shoulder seemed swollen. It didn't look like a dislocation or else she'd be yelping bloody murder.

The vet came last night. It's a bone growth. We don't know if it's cancer. But she's not in any other pain, she eats like a horse and she seems happy. So the Deep Heat therapy will continue.

Y'know, I've been praying for her the day she got unwell and through her numerous hospital stays at the vet when she had the tick fever. It might sound stupid to the unspiritual, but she's an angel sent to bless this household and she will get equal love and concern as anybody else who lives here.

Why do angels have to be in human form anyway?

2007-06-21T08:49:00.000+08:00

The waters off my tropical isle will look like this.

Photo: Sulawesi.

2007-06-13T22:27:00.000+08:00

Every birthday I go through gets better than the last. Message after message, wish after wish, three birthday cakes, friends and loved ones. And the presents. Wow. Thank you, everyone. Love you all. No more pretend friends. My friends are the real deal.

Every year, I post the words of the wise Andy Rooney of CBS 60 Minutes. Now here's a man who knows his women:

"As I grow in age, I value women who are over 30 most of all. Here are just a few reasons why:

A woman over 30 will never wake you in the middle of the night to ask, “What are you thinking?” She doesn’t care what you think. If a woman over 30 doesn’t want to watch the game, she doesn’t sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do. And, it’s usually something more interesting.

A woman over 30 knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is, what she is, what she wants and from whom. Few women past the age of 30 give a damn what you might think about her or what she’s doing.

Women over 30 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won’t hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can get away with it. Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it’s like to be unappreciated.

A woman over 30 has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore even her bestfriend because she doesn’t trust the guy with other women.

A woman over 30 couldn’t care less if you’re attracted to her friends because she knows her friends won’t betray her. Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 30. They always know.

A woman over 30 looks good wearing bright red lipstick. This is not true of younger women or drag queens. Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 30 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.

Older women are forthright and honest. They’ll tell you right off if you are a jerk or if you are acting like one! You don’t ever have to wonder where you stand with her.

Yes, we praise women over 30 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately it’s not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed hot woman of 30+, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year-old waitress.

Ladies, I apologise.

For all those men who say, “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free". Here’s an update for you.

Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage. Why? Because women realise it’s not worth buying an entire Pig, just to get a little sausage…"

Photo: Meet Kueh Lapis, one of my presents.

2007-06-11T17:09:00.000+08:00

I'm remembering the nine-hour trek I did to Tiger Leaping Gorge in Yunnan, China last year. We had to pass these gorgeous peaks. Shall it be Vancouver, Switzerland or Mt Fuji next year, I wonder? Or none of the above. Maybe.

2007-06-11T12:59:00.000+08:00

Bako National Park, where 10 rather fit people whose main common denominator was that we all went as gym members, spent 16 hours walking a trail that should have taken us at the most, 10 hours tops. We followed a marked trail. At least five of us felt goosebumps, chills, invisible hands shoving us, hisses right next to the ear, and at least two heard a friend yell even though he swears he didn't.

You decide.

We arrived home at 2am in the morning.

2007-06-04T22:18:00.000+08:00

My grandfather died whilst I was in Sulawesi. The day I left for Manado, I had thought of turning back. I was in Singapore then. But then everyone thought at the time that he would hang on. But he didn't.

Sulawesi was absolutely gorgeous, by the way, and I did some fantabulous things there. But all of that are a little overshadowed by the here and now. I couldn't get back till the 29th of May, so they waited. Two of my uncles were coming back from Canada too. So the funeral was on the 30th. He died on the 25th.

The Canadian uncles and one Singapore aunt are still here. So I'm still floating about in my head, wanting to spend as much time as I can with them before they leave on the 9th. Technically, I'm still on leave, but I'll pop by the office for a while tomorrow.

I just felt like I had to say something here. Get it off my chest a little. How do I feel about all this? Mixed feelings. I keep getting flashbacks from another time, another life. He used to swing by the house every day in his little Honda Civic (the cute little model from the 70's) and bring me and grandma out for Kolomee soup in Green Road. That's what I remember clearest. I also inherited my stubbornness, my temper and my love for dogs from him I guess. No recent memories. We weren't very close when I got older.

Still. You assume some basic tenets in life - things like: the sky is always blue (and not grey with smog); or the sea always smell briney (and not like garbage); and your elders will always be around (they won't). These things you take for granted even though you know, at the back of your head, that they won't always hold true. And when the day comes, it's always a shock to the system.

The Death of Mr Lim

2007-05-12T13:42:00.000+08:00

I don’t swim as often as I used to. It’s a little bit of a shame, really. I take to water like the proverbial fish to river. I just like my privacy a lot better, that’s all. Knocking about with four or five other swimmers in the same lane is not my idea of a good workout.

When you swim in one of only two public pools in Kuching, you tend to get sucked into the community that inevitably exists in such gathering places. In my case, it’s good ol’ Stampark. You swim, you meet regulars, they recognize you for a regular after a while, and you get admitted into the community through a fluid bond. It’s often nameless. A nod here, a smile there, a ‘long time no see’ and longer conversations somewhere else. But you grow to expect these faces everytime you enter the turnstile.

And then your schedule changes and you don’t go in the evenings anymore; or you’d rather have the whole pool to yourself and go on weekend mornings. Kuching swimmers never swim in the day if they can help it. Photosensitive bunch, if you catch my drift (and I’m not talking about cameras). So you lose touch with the regular faces.

Then one day, like today, you bump into one of them there and get to catch up a little.

There are a whole bunch of up and coming young athletes who train at the pool everyday. At my age, I’m too uncool for them to fraternize with. So I chat to the parents. Most of the parents sit at the side and wait for their future little champions to finish their laps. One or two would jump in and swim with the likes of me, doing our laps as if we were shooting for the national geriatric swim team.

Now, I never make the first move to chat. When I swim, I swim. Just like when I gym, I gym (it took my gym buddies 3 years to break through my glass wall). Partly it’s because I’m there to workout, and I don’t talk when I work out. It’s all focus or none at all. It was at the pool that I met Mr Lim, a friendly family man who believed in exercise and discipline. We’d chat a little, my gang and him. Then I found out that I knew his wife, who works at a bookstore. And it was cool, knowing these pleasant people.

Then I went off, gymming, travelling for work, getting back to some light trekking, and only swimming the weekends (if at all). I would get snippets of news about Lim – he hadn’t gone to the pool in ages……he had cancer of the colon…….and today, he died in January. I had hoped that he would pull through. But the poignancy of it is that I don’t remember when I last saw him. It was at the pool, that much I’m sure. But I don’t remember when it was.

I didn’t know him well enough to share many thoughts with; but we knew each other enough to acknowledge a little more than a common bond through that blue square of water. It is something to get used to though, the fact that he will never share that pool with me again.

2007-05-08T14:29:00.000+08:00

I think I had too much of a good thing on Sunday. Feeling lethargic, deflated, like I've just been stepped over by a eleven overweight elephants, two bongos and three and a half giraffes.

2007-05-06T13:34:00.000+08:00

I woke up at 6am this morning at took a walk to Never-Neverland. It was beautiful weather. The clouds wrapped themselves round the mountain just at the right spots so it looked like the mountains were still asleep, wrapped in their cloud blankets. It was very quiet there. A sad sort of quiet. I'm not quite sure why. Perhaps it's because people don't use their imaginations very much anymore.

But I was there. And it was good. For that one moment.

It was good.

2007-05-02T16:32:00.000+08:00

Two of my babies turned two today. We celebrated with a piece of cake each. A pink girlile one for Cookie and a brown panda boy one for Max. Sheeba and Pepper were invited of course. We opted against party hats in anticipation of their probable and most likely rapid destruction by all four-legged party-goers.

2007-05-02T11:08:00.000+08:00

There is no permanent way of archiving digital photos without them going wonky after a while. Really, there isn’t. I keep four years worth of digital photograps backed up on two external hard drives AND on Archie himself, and I still get some photos that die on me. What does that leave me? Developing all the ones I like? Geez, what am I, a money tree?

Since I’m on the subject, my camera finally came back from the camera hospital (or ‘hostipal’, as an uncle of mine loves to quip). The bill came up to RM130. It’s not overly exorbitant, but I swear, if it happens again, I am going for either the Canon 300D or Nikon D80, which will cost me an arm, a leg and a couple of fingers more. So I’m not going to go there just yet.

Anyway, the reason I’ve not been updating the blog is simply because I was photographically crippled without the camera. It’s just not the same posting photos from 2004. I do do that, but it’s just not the same if I haven’t got the camera with me and can’t go drain-diving with it or stalk people with it, know what I mean?

2007-04-20T17:26:00.000+08:00

I have always liked small towns. I like them best when they are Sarawakian small towns. Like Marudi in the picture above. It's as if time swept through the whole earth and stopped at 1960 over Marudi. So while the rest of the world races to oblivion. Marudi stays in its 1960 bubble.

What fascinates me about being in West Malaysia is that I could be in KL at 10am and be in some backwater like Lanchang by lunch time. It doesn't quite happen like that in Sarawak. Speaking of Lanchang, I like it. I like the little stall that sells nice Chinese 'char bee hoon' in big portions for next to nothing.

If I'd get away, I'd get away to small towns. Places like KL only holds interest for me if I get to move around constantly. Put me, say, in a free room above a lot of shophouses with no easy access to anywhere at night (I understand it might be out of the goodness and thriftiness), and I start to shrivel up and any quality that might have been had from the trip would shrivel up in seconds. This is why I need to be with friends here, or in accommodation near easy transport. Otherwise, I'd rather not come.

Nuff said. I'm back in the madness of the urban jungle, and I miss the dogs. Mum must get miffed ever so slightly everytime I call back and ask about the dogs first. Incidentally, I'm looking for a side-cart for my brother's mountain bike. So I can take Badog on rides and walk the other three at the same time. If any of you out there knows where I can get one or have ideas on how to make one. Please email me: maritapaige@gmail.com. Thanks.

Back to work emails now.

2007-04-17T18:06:00.000+08:00

Statistics, no matter how simple, basic and nevermind that I understand some of it, always, ALWAYS, make me feel stupid. Nevermind that I know the definition of a statistic, nevermind that I know the difference between standard deviation, standard error and variances; neverMIND that I know there are different types of probabilities and that the time my work requires is normally frequentist probability; NEVERMIND that I know a little bit about modelling (er, not the Naomi Campbell type, please), AICs, maximum likelihood estimators and what not, stats just somehow highlight the dufus-factor in me. It's the half-understanding of statistical concepts that irks me like a jitterbug under the skin. Why can't I just know it like I know languages, or grammar. My knowledge of those is not perfect, but perfectly functional and logical for daily use. Why why why.....grr.

I'm stuck. In all sense of the word.

Picture: What's the probability of my peeking out of one of these windows in NY instead of being here?

2007-04-13T15:07:00.000+08:00

I never thought I'd ever say this, but each time I come to KL for work, it feels more and more like a second home. And this is all thanks to having good friends here whose hospitality knows no bounds. Ling and Aug are incredible, as is Becks. They make my work trips so pleasurable.

I'm waiting for Bandong Boy to pick me up. We're off to the training centre today. No net for a week. The internet, cellphones and cars. Part of the urban fabric that makes this the 21st century. Still, I don't mind that Pacific Island, or that farm.

As long as there's wifi.

Picture: a solitude of sorts. Hanging out by the banks of Batang Ai

2007-04-11T21:49:00.000+08:00

It's utter shite when it's the night before you fly off to KL and you're sporting a drippy nose and sore throat. Utter shite. I'm going to be a wreck by the time I get to KL tomorrow. Dang.

And I miss my camera too!! It's great to take snapshots with the old Nikon on real film; but because it's film, I tend to be more careful about my subjects and so I end up not developing the roll for ages. That roll, incidentally, is still in the camera and I am not bringing the camera with me. Gah.

My next camera is going to be a full digital SLR. Nikon or Canon, I don't know yet.

2007-04-10T15:02:00.000+08:00

I have always been a borderline hypochondriac and general paranoid-obsessive. It got way worse when my stress levels went beyond acceptable years ago. And so I developed a a major phobia of air travel and a minor phobia of travelling in general. This coming from a woman who bushwhacked all around the jungles of Borneo, gets on long-haul flights at least once a year, and flies to KL every month (sometimes twice a month)..... Ironic would be an understatement. Even conditioning the mind to live each day as if it were one's last still presented a challenge when it came to the grind.

But it's funny how a little shock to the system can be a cure-all. Suggest a lumpy breast, hint at spots in the liver and throw in a first degree AV block (nothing serious, just an irregular electro-chemical conduction in the heart), and you'd think one would just lay oneself down and die. But no. It seems to have cured the phobias. I'm sitting here, waiting for the butterflies to attack and then the slow creep of 24-hour anxiety. Nup. Not there. Incredible. I've always known that it is never death that I fear but the process of dying. But even the fear of the process seems to elude me now.

And I'm not complaining. Perhaps I am doing something right in the way that I live now - full, full and again, full.

I shall now lay myself down and have a little well-deserved rest.

Photo: The view going from Newark Airport to NY, at 110km/hr (what's that in miles?). Ah, I miss New York.

2007-03-31T18:54:00.000+08:00

At first it was just pure busyness; then there was the traveling; then it was just sheer laziness, although that permeates through the whole thing like cholesterol; and then Archimedes froze up, so I had to bring him in and what the hey, upgraded him to 1G RAM and 100G HD. And while I was at it, threw in a DVD writer as well. And now, there really is no excuse.

I left off right before the Batang Ai trip. There are two clear memories that will forever be the trigger mechanism to Batang Ai, March 2007.

First off is the vision of Leo’s sarong picking up a little speed as it flowed down river, with two giant air bubbles and her still in it. She didn’t get very far, thank heavens. She was totally in control of course. It was just that the current was pretty strong and I half expected her to end up by the boat where the men were, and her sarong somewhere else. That was the afternoon I developed my best tan so far.

Then there’s the affair of the errant chicken. It was an enormous brown hen, and she decided to take a running jump on Leo’s tummy as she (Leo, not the hen) dozed on the ruai (sort of a traditional walkway cum verandah in an Iban longhouse). She (the hen, not Leo) bounced once on the organic springboard and and landed on her spriggly feet on the other side. A fowl gymnast, to be sure.

Photo: Maneuvering a shallow bit of river, Batang Ai. All passengers off!

2007-03-10T19:50:00.000+08:00

When life is bucking and you're riding it like a bronco, there just isn't much time to blog. It's been a fantastic few weeks - enriching, illuminating, full of life.

Tomorrow, I am off again. The only downside of things is that my camera is still in the shop. So there won't be any new photos. Hang on. There won't be any new digital photos. The old handy Nikon is still clicking. It just costs a little more to develop the film.

Be back in 10 days.

2007-02-19T09:20:00.000+08:00

It’s Chinese New Year and…..and, well, I honestly don’t see the point of visiting people whom you are neither close with nor keep in touch with just for the sake of visiting. Honestly, to traipse from house to house, gorging oneself with food and drinks. Whatever for, I ask? I suppose I’m bah-humbuggy that way. There is something to be said about tradition, I suppose (that’s a begrudingly given concession, I might add).

This year, I would like nothing more than to veg out at at the pool, at the beach, in front of the idiot box, anywhere except smiling and shaking hands at people who visit us.

Friends are welcome, of course. But then, friends are welcom anytime of the year.

Frankly, its just not a Chinese New Year without granny. She’s gone now, and grandad spends 26 out of 24 hours sleeping and mumbling in his sleep. But still we go on the first day. It’s what we’ve been doing since the day I was born.

Ah well, and a happy Chinese new year to you

2007-02-13T22:27:00.000+08:00

I was half way through an entry when the machine decides it would like a little break and went on strike. Honestly, I don't see how we can have self-thinking AI when the computer can't even work properly all the time.

So anyway, I was saying, life happens when you're blogging, and the blog don't happen when you're living. That's what's been happening. So what do you write about first when a thousand and one things have already passed the blog by? Do you talk about the acrobatic troupe from Shanghai who were performing at a shopping centre and they were so up close and personal you could see the beadlets of sweat trickling down their brow? Or do you concentrate on how your own adrenaline was pumping so hard watching them you didn't even notice that string of drool yo-yoing out of your half open mouth like you just had a lobotomy? Or perhaps about how you wondered if the cute boy in the tight tights doing amazing things with his core was the same one who sold you the cushion covers from one of the Chinese stalls surrounding the stage just the night before?

Hmm. Let's do Adrian. Adrian is news from today. Adrian is back. It was a nice surprise to get a message from him, a total outlier, after such a long time of my regular routine of irregularities (hah). So, "Hi I'm back in town. Are you free to meet up?" With Adrian, a good conversation and philosophizing are always a given. So I spent the better part of the day talking shop with him, comparing notes over lunch and coffee at the old Aurora.

Boy do I need a bit of stimulus from time to time. Nothing like good quality conversation. Perhaps there shall be more Adrian later in the week. If I had a choice, I'd have Adrian and the Lama in the same car.

Now aren't I just deliciously cryptic today?

Photo: Today, sand and thoughts are the same. Today, the mind is fluid, without borders, without partition. Today, it's not just about wires in a box.

2007-02-08T23:39:00.001+08:00

7 February 2007
The best pictures are always in the camera of the mind. Here I am, sitting at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf alfresco by the waterfront in KK. The near-azure sea is lapping not ten metres from where I sit, under a giant umbrella, with the sea breeze teasing at my hair and a silly grin on pure contentment on my face. There are no photos to show. The camera isn’t here. I’m just lapping up the sun, the sea, the breeze. It can’t get any more perfect than this.

The hotel is in front of this waterfront. Fling a stone from where I sit and it’d hit the main glass door. There are giant umbrellas all along this little row, all of the shops eateries or watering holes of one kind or another. I’ve been sitting here for one solid hour without a book, just staring out at the island across the bay and writing in the journal when I can tear my eyes away from the blank pages. I can stay in this position forever. I have found paradise in Malaysia. It’s right next door.

And yes, I’m here for work, which is done.

I’m abandoning the computer and this attempt to write something coherent to soak up more of this perfection. K-Now-Bye-Then.

2007-01-30T21:44:00.000+08:00

What am I thinking about.....

...I'm thinking about that time when I was up in the Baram during the rainy season. I'd just had two weeks of grueling surveys. I was dead tired. It was the our last morning there. Six in the morning. Cold as hell. Didn't feel like no tropics at all. I had on my blue fleece pullover. Backpack on shoulders, walking towards the river to get to the boat. And, there it was, this beautiful pristine river (it was the Upper Tutoh), greeting me in a swirl of mist. And here's the thing, the mist was rising out of the river. I swear. It is quite something to be surrounded by such beauty. I must have stood there, rivetted. They say the best memories are often not captured in photographs. They were right.

...I'm thinking about how non-confrontational Malaysians are. And I'm thinking, well, it's not really that we're non-confrontational. It's just that most of us can't handle straightforward unadorned ugly truths about ourselves. We get upset when confronted and don't know how to get un-upset again. It's a matter of face and ego you see. It's true, from friends to matters of national consequence. I'd have a very full piggy bank if I were given a ringgit for every time someone came to me for advice, and I gave it to them no holds barred, and then they got upset for my pointing out the obvious. Ha. C'est la vive. It's quite fun to see pushed buttons, actually.

...I'm thinking about how I'm going to be in Sabah come Tuesday, working and hopefully meeting up with my cousin there.

...I'm thinking about how, after Sabah, I'll be in KL again, working and meeting up with friends there.

Photo: An innocuous-looking glass of rice wine (tuak), but really, quite lethal to the faculties. Try thinking with a belly full of that.

2007-01-21T08:16:00.000+08:00

Well. I'm on the road again tomorrow. For a few days. It was supposed to be for 10 days at least, BUT, as it were, I can't spare the time. There's too much happening. So I'll be back by the middle of next week.

Bye-bye internet and gym for a few days.

2007-01-20T13:08:00.000+08:00

There's no going back, y'know. After years of this, the day has come when, like it or not, I have to make decisions that require me to detach myself from people. You can't win'em all. The good news is I'm getting good at it, this detachment - chuck out the riffraff, the noise and the unnecessary; and you're left with the obvious. Well, sometimes the not-so-obvious. But that's the other good thing, I'm not afraid of making mistakes. How else would I learn? I wonder what it takes to have me blow my top at people? I mean, really Blow My Top. Never done that before. Have had years of training on self-control with a sorry excuse of a human being. Imagine how zen that is. *ironic laugh*

The bad news is.....hmm, is there a bad side to this? I suppose I get to be the bad guy all the time, for at least one person or another.

Photo: No going back.

2007-01-20T12:50:00.000+08:00

There was a longhouse floating on a river, this place I went to. We got there at about 5 in the evening; a cool rain was tumbling down from above. In that setting, it felt almost magical. They put up white marquees to shade their boats in, kinda like a floating garage. I was knackered by then. The whole day had been a succession of longhouses, one after the other, in glaring heat. As always, the journey was the best part. Each time I set foot onto solid earth, away from the little boat, it felt like an ending of sorts. And I didn't quite like that feeling. For me, the journey was always an end in itself. But, work goes on. And the magic has to end.

So. This longhouse on the water. It's on the water because the good folk of that community is in the process of building a new one on the high ground nearby, and they made this their abode for the timebeing.

There was an old woman in that longhouse, the grandmother of the headman. Ninety years old, stately, lovely. Boy I really dug that place. Wake up in the morning, it's hot, dive straight into the river for an early morning swim, have fish for lunch, trek the jungle to pick wild fruit in the afternoon.

Well. That's the dream side. It's probably stifling hot under the marquee all day, sandflies likely abound, and there's all the mundane of little everyday things.

Still. At 5pm, in the rain, in the gloom, a floating longhouse is magical.

2007-01-09T17:42:00.000+08:00

My cousin got married last Saturday. There was a pre-wedding celebration on my family's side on the Friday night; then the church reception on Saturday, and then the big wedding dinner on Saturday evening. I tell ya, I haven't had so much fun with the entire clan in a while. This is the first wedding of my generation in the family in over 10 years.

I'm happy that she's happy, truly I am. But I had cold feet on her behalf before the whole thing, I tell you. Me and marriage....HA. Still, I was very happy emcee-ing for during the pre-wedding celebration. I had no idea what I was doing, but was quite happy doing whatever it was that I had no idea I was doing. Especially after the wine.

Oh, and the dress was bare-backed. Ha.

Tomorrow I'm off again. Last refuge of the orang utans this time. Be back next week.

2006-12-26T17:01:00.000+08:00

Each one signifies an event, something meaningful. The collage is my own *bejalai.

I'll tell you about my first time. It has to do with my first foray into the wilds of the Baram, where I met an elderly Sab'n lady. She had lovely tattoos curling up both her legs; fine and carefully inked in, they were, signifying her aristocracy. She stood alone outside a shed in her village. She was gorgeous. We looked at each other, and for a split second, we connected. It was also there that I witnessed a painfully obvious and unnecessary clash of cultures. It happened when a pick-up truck pulled up and a logger jumped out of it. Enough said. When I got back into town, I sought out a good tattoo artist and got him to do one on my right ankle, just like where I first noticed hers.

It's been seven years since that first one. The rest each have their own story, each one close to my heart. But I will tell you this - they are true expressions of art, they are.

Except for that first one, my cousin does all of my tattoos now. Each and every needlepoint worked in by hand just like the days of old. He's a very good artist. Go see his work here.

*Bejalai is an embodiment and enactment of the spirit of adventure of Iban pioneers who not only accepted but also energetically sought new experiences. It is the same spirit, which presages their successful transition from traditional and spiritual mobility to a challenging and promising future.

2006-12-26T15:44:00.000+08:00

I promised myself I'd do an entry on Java. A word of advice - never promise yourself anything you're likely to put off for too long.

Rightio. On with Java.

My camera and I made love to the people of Java. I loved taking photos of the people there. Surabaya was pretty much as I remembered it from last year, though things seemed cheaper the year before. Maybe I've just gone stingier.

My mind wasn't quite geared for a holiday. Neither was my heart. But being away from Kuching is always a breath of fresh air, especially now that I've become a lot more sedentary.

Three hours away from Surabaya is the town of Bojonegoro - every bit as rustic, dusty and raggedy as I'd left it the last time. And the people, as lovely as ever. One of my favourite new friends is this Nenek (Granny) I met. She lives in the village of Tanjong Harjo. She's the sweetest little thing. She loved having her pictures taken but she was oh-so-shy at the same time. She's cup her face with her hands and giggle each time I held up the camera. She reminds me of my own grandma, of course, who still visits me in my dreams once in a while.

I don't know if I will meet Nenek again, so this entry is for her. For touching me with her loveliness.

2006-12-25T23:28:00.000+08:00

So it's Christmas. From my POV, everyone's rushing to get the good deals on presies and goodies. Sure, there is a little bit more goodwill, a little more charity in the air. But boy, the sales are sure raking it in. And the shoppers keep coming for the presie shopping. Somehow, I don't think this is quite what they mean when they say 'Tis the season for giving'.

So who's kidding who? Is this what Christmas is supposed to be? One month of shopping, one day of goodwill, and 364 and a quarter of back to the old business of me, me and me?

Where is the Christ in the C-H-R-I-S-T-M-A-S here? And where the hell is the Christ for the rest of the year?

A different tune from me this year? Certainly? Am I bah-humbugging this year? Certainly not.

Just trying to put things into perspective.

Just trying to stop and hear the colour of the sky; see the smell of the wind.

If you catch my drift.

May you be blessed for the coming year.

2006-12-24T15:53:00.000+08:00

Merry Christmas, World.

I've decided to take off the comments function for good. I like it better that way. My friends online wish me well. That I know full well already. I just don't have a lot of time to look at and answer comments these days. And most of all, this place is for me. While I know there are many out there who enjoy the photos and words, and like to respond to some of the entries, I often do feel as if I have to reply or at least acknowledge the comments, even when I don't do it. Easiest thing is to take them off. It's the ultimate test, I suppose, of whether I own this blog or it owns me.

Christmas is wonderfully deep and meaningful this year. Sure, there's some of the commercial shopping and acquiring of mathoms, because I can and because I haven't shaken off that shallow bling bling attractiveness of simple marketing to make people spend their pennies. But I find myself separating the shallow from the true more clearly this year. And that, I suppose, is not a bad thing.

I'm just back from Java, with great photos to share. And I will do that. Next post. There's too many things happening right now. There's been too many things happening since forever.

The one main thing successfully done this year: the putting of things into order - out with irrelevant people, in with friends.

And many more.

The sinusitis is acting up again. I need to lie down.

Photo: Where the world is one.