The Malaysiana Digests

Reliving History: My Take on Election Day

I went to watch Election Day out of curiousity and 'desakan' from my friends. After being so not 'in-the-know' about the political scene for so long (life caught up and I guess the impetus to focus my attention on things that are larger than myself was gone), I have to admit, I didn't expect much out of the night.

Little did I know that I was in for a walk down memory lane.

1998-99 was a passionate period. Everyone from executives to cab drivers had strong opinions about everything. Whole families were divided along political lines and the Internet, or more specifically, SangKancil, became a big and real part of the rural political machinery.

Watching Election Day was like watching "24". The descriptors of the day brought me back to "Better than Ezra", reformasi.com and Sabri Zain. It brought me back to restless nights in Bukit Damansara and a hot and even more restless afternoon in Dataran Merdeka - September 19th, if I'm not mistaken.

It brought back memories of paranoia, of watching men line up the perimeters of KLCC, their postures revealing their weariness as they leaned on their weapons for support.

It brought back graphic images of the time when Malaysia seemed like it was never going to be the same again - when water canons spewed unknown substances to the masses and when the world was so sure we would follow in the path of Indonesia.

It was a time when I was passionate about so many things, when I cared about things that was larger than myself. When my passion was, in hindsight, somewhat misguided, though I was told it was in a good way.

Election Day brought back many memories, which I can now remember fondly. Memories that when looked upon in the light of day, didn't look so bad at all. Memories that reminded me of who I used to be, and who I can still become.

A big thanks to Jo Kukathas and Actor's Studio. It was personally a moving performance.

Other reviews:
The Public Ineffectual: Five Arts Posturing from the Margins: A critique of Election Day by Rey Buono
It's not a political play-lah

Weekly Wind-down

Sometimes life looks like a TV show, complete with an anthem and filler music. My last night's walk to Cold Storage had a "City Girl Goes Shopping" accompaniment, courtesy of Suria KLCC. The subsequent cab ride was a 80s video called "Suburbia" - Pet Shop Boys style. The greater portion of dinner was silent, except for an acapella rendition of some sad love song interlaced with nursery rhymes over the scent of a feeble attempt at fettucini arabbiatta wafting out of the kitchen.

I woke up this morning feeling weird. Maybe it's the little disappointments and let downs, or the feeling that I've been had. Or maybe it was the dream where I was heading out for dinner with friends and I just couldn't get things sorted in time. After I managed to haul myself to work, the morning was thankfully a slow one - a jazzy, deep and smooth "Ocean Jive" by Seven Van Hees.

Mind over matter. The one thing I could always count on is Friday night. TGIF!

Waiter! There's a Baby Cockroach in My Linguini!

...or "Doom: Part Deux"

This is the very reason why I need a blog. I forgive and forget too easily. Last Friday, after 'starving' myself for the whole day, Noreen and I headed for food after work.

Seeing that I finally got my Dome card (one lapse of judgment...) with coupons for freebies in tow, I suggested that we head there for afternoon tea/early dinner (second lapse of judgment). After agonising over the menu to see what we could order to redeem the freebies, we decided on the spicy olio pasta - Noreen had the spaghetti, I had the linguini.

Hers came first. She gulped it down within seconds. Mine came later, I took my time.

Three quarters way through the meal, I noticed something on the linguini on my fork. A baby cockroach was using my linguini as a highway.

I promptly raised my hand, quietly, to flag a waiter. I was told by Noreen to not make a scene, which I didn't. I merely pointed to the little thing that was still happily playing in my food. He called his manager, who offered me a replacement place, which I politely refused.

I didn't complain, I made a face. A "I want to throw-up all over your restaurant" face. The bill came, minus my meal. I didn't order the right stuff for freebies either.

Had I made a fuss, both of us could've gotten our meal free. But I was tired. I was hungry. I was just grateful that it wasn't a bigger cockroach. Or the family. Just the baby.

Jikon asked me to write to their GM. I can't be bothered. All they're going to do is offer me more free meals. At Dome. Who in their right mind would want to relive the experience? Give me something from Aigner or any of the Melium group brand products I say...

By the way, the pasta was a spicy olio one with beef bacon bits. Which meant that all those little crunchy stuff in my mouth could've been the beef bacon bits, or other things... like the baby cockroach's siblings.

I think I'll name it Ben. Ben, the baby cockroach in my linguini. Hope they gave him a good burial.

More Info:
Dome can be found in KLCC on the ground floor next to the park and on the 2nd floor, at the Jln Ampang wing of KLCC.

Of Things That Were Meant to Be

This is such a spoiler, but hey, it's a happy ending!

Salam Muharram

I totally missed greeting New Year's Day, again. Today is first day of Muharram, the beginning of the Muslim calendar. I didn't realise it at the time, but I ended up spending it with some of my closest and dearest friends, in a decadent feast of chicken and cheesecake. I missed the 'other' New Year's day because I had some issues to sort out, and I was anticipating this opportunity to do the things one does on New Year's Day, whichever calendar you're celebrating.

What does one do in anticipation of a new year?

Reflection is the all-time favourite, but when the threat of the pull of the past peeks through, it's better to focus on the future. This year, I concentrated on reading through the reminder emails of what one can do to celebrate the month of Muharram.

I won't list them all here, but skimming through, it's all about cleansing the soul and helping others that are less fortunate. The first one is simple enough to be doable (e.g. fasting on the 10th day of Muharram) and thanks to Maria, I have some ideas of how to do the second one.

If only I can get over my tummy ache... (oh why do I keep on doing this to myself??!!)

Happy Birthday Wa!

Dear Wa,

On behalf of your daughter Aeisyah, your son Adam, Ayah, Ummi, (dan lain-lain) and me of course, I'd like to wish you a very happy birthday. I would also like to give you a day off on Monday to recover from your birthday weekend.

Love,
Your sister.

Labels

Feminist. Fundamentalist. Extremist. Racist. Revisionist. Secularist.

Labels that are stamped on the foreheads of people who takes whatever sides to an argument. We stamp them and subsequently compartmentalise them into whichever definition suits the argument in question, most of the time, ignoring the context in which certain opinions are formed.

That's where the typical internet debate can be frustrating. No point of reference, no background of where the idea is stemming from. No way of looking at the subtexts, detecting nuances in the communication. They're all words typed in the same fonts, behind nicks that are often not reflective of the origin of the thoughts.

We argue and rationalise, but after a certain point, there's the influence of experience that leads us to our individual conclusions. There's also the influence of faith - which kicks in to take the argument to our conclusion where the logic cannot venture any further. The comments grow longer, yet we all still stick to our own truths.

I wonder if anyone has come up with a 'communication protocol' for inter-civilisational dialogue...

"Taxi!"

Those random events I mentioned earlier, as I had suspected, was not so random after all. The reader who made my day and the stranger who did me a favour, are best friends!

Small world indeed!

Anything for Money

In the 80s, one of the first reality shows I watched was called "Anything for Money". While it was tame by today's standards, it was pretty much shocking to see what people would do for money (an image that was firmly etched in my impressionable little mind then was one of a guy who ate worms...).

Sometimes I wonder what my own ethical limits might be. I consider myself lucky because I'd never knowingly enrol myself in such a situation (no TV game shows for me thank you), but what about those subtle life dilemmas that seem so clear when you're thinking about it hypothetically?

A good friend, who is quite the veteran in the IT industry, recently told me that he'd never go to work for Microsoft. A colleague once told me she'd never work for a tobacco company. An ex-coursemate, a staunch environmentalist, once questioned how I could consider working for an oil and gas company. I've questioned friends on how they can, in good conscience, budget in money for dubious "unknown expenses" in tender bids. And I've wondered about how easy it is to participate in riba.

Of course, every life decision can be rationalised as far as we want to rationalise it. Sometimes we want to do something so much, we ignore the lines we once drew for ourselves. We argue necessity, progress, we find reasons and justifications from sources we'd never refer to otherwise. When enough people nod at our justification, when the list of reasons stretch for miles, we take that step forward (or backward, depending on how we see it).

The stronger among us see the lines in every fork in the road, and with open eyes, make decisions along the principles they've adopted. But that takes knowing oneself and knowing what one can live with.

When I was younger, I used to think that it depends on one's intention and what you use the money for. But I realised that the journey is just as important as the destination - just how sure are we that after a journey without principles, that the destination will still be as pure as we intended it to be?

Sidenote:
One should ask the big fish club how slippery the slope was for them, where/when/how it all started, and whether they realised how far they've gone...

Related:
On diamonds, love and the price of principles (thanks Zarina for the pointer)

The Most Romantic Things

With all the whining that's been going on in Petaling Street about Valentine's Day, Malaysian men, and love in general, I count myself lucky to be surrounded by people who are fine examples of what we should all strive for.

Remember when Meesh and Ash wrote something about effort? People, pay attention to them.

I met up with a friend for coffee yesterday. He was planning his life - the house, the job move, the wedding. He's going in neck-deep in a lot of things to be with his life partner, neck-deep - which doesn't mean the whole 'let's do a fancy wedding thing', but serious stuff, like buying a place near her family, moving to be closer to her, negotiating car parks in their new apartment, knocking down walls...

Despite having closed the deal (she agreed to marry him), he has planned this elaborate exercise today to surprise her. He'd kill me if I said anything, so I won't. But suffice to say that the gift he bears says how much he knows her, and the thought that went into planning the appearance has all the markings of a great project manager.

One common thread I've found in acts that melt the heart is that it's not just about 'you', it's all about 'us'.

Good luck friend, hope she's not too surprised when you show up!

You know how the smallest things can make you smile?

It's been such a great week, despite some minor setbacks (I call them minor setbacks today because I am choosing not to see it as the major f***-ups of yesterday). It's been such a great week because of so many random events that happened for no reason at all, except to make my day.

Like bumping into the nicest stranger, once for her to do me a favour and once again for me to return it. Like the cab driver who saved me from the fumblings of another one, to deliver me to a very important appointment, just in the nick of time. Like a great review from a reader just when I was about to feel very crappy about the Internet in general.

Like pictures like this. Or this.

Like making macaroni and cheese (cheddar and emmenthal, just because you feel like it). Like eating junkfood all the time, because your other 4 female colleagues are slim, junkfood-eating junkies. Like looking forward to watch "Kuliah Cinta" for 'research'.

Like the fact that in the last 2 weeks, I saw the same bright yellow scooter with the two Persian cats (one perched behind the rider and one on the scooter footrest), twice... blaring hip-hop one night and techno the next morning.

Or like the time I caught myself saying, "I could relate to the book, except for the whole two kids and Jesus Christ thing..."

Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend

[This is in honour of Lin who will be tying the knot soon. Picture courtesy of Tiffany's]

The hardest known substance on earth is also the one thing that can almost always guarantee a smile from a woman. It's also one that at some point in a man's life, gives him nightmares.

Evaluating diamonds is serious business. So is diamond cutting. The right cut will bring out the true brilliance of the rock. I remember watching a documentary about a 12-karat rock and the meticulous effort that the master cutter went through to make sure he doesn't screw up something that big.

*Gasp* I can't continue. This ring looks... *Gasp*

{Getting woozy, I can almost taste the nasi goreng daging merah I had for dinner coming back up...}

But then again, I'm more of this type of girl.

Related:
The other guide to diamonds.

Raising Kids

Sometimes, children ask questions that are as honest as it gets. A friend of mine was telling me about one particularly difficult question that her daughter posed to her one day.

Her daughter has a non-Muslim best friend. Upon hearing from her Ustazah that only Muslims go to Heaven (here we go again...), she naturally got quite sad.

The question of where we (Muslims, Christians, Jews, Hindus etc) will end up versus the other guy is something we have asked at some point in our lives. I can't remember the answer that kept my curiousity at bay, but my friend had a pretty good one for her daughter.

She said (crudely paraphrased):

Even Muslims can go to Hell if we're bad. Whether you go to Heaven or Hell, it's all up to God and that's something for Him to look over.

My name is Najah, and I'm an IKEA addict...

A declaration which is followed by a bellowing "Hi Najah..." heard around the world...

Last weekend was perhaps the umpteeth time I went to Ikea this year. This time, I brought new blood and her mom.

It's funny that each Ikea trip is accompanied by nice blue skies and rolling hills - the ones you see from the highway, invoking a feeling of childhood excitement, like the first time you go to Disneyland or something.

"Look, you can see the logo!"

"Wow, the carpark is so nice!"

I walked in telling myself that I'm just getting some storage boxes and the meatballs. I ended up with more than just storage boxes, and stuffed myself twice - once at the restaurant (meatballs, sausage, salmon - to share, of course), and once at the cafe (oh the tart!).

New blood marvelled at the amazing world that unfolded before us. The showrooms were ripe with ideas, like how to fit little boxes in teeny tiny drawers, and contraptions that unfold into whole livingrooms. Rocket scientists, she declared that the furniture designers must have been rocket scientists. She and her mom are hooked!

Unfortunately, there's no known treatment.

The Non-Expert on Ikea:

Question: Hey Nonexpert, my girlfriend drags me to IKEA almost every weekend and it’s driving me crazy. What should I tell her? –Brent Flagg

Answer: There is no known treatment for IKEA addiction. The best you can do is learn to survive.

Survival Guide here.

NS Facilities

It took 53 days to build a campsite suitable for our youth as they are drafted into the first batch of National Service trainees. Should I be shocked?

On another note, given the conditions of their training, would this be enough?

Under the insurance cover, Great Eastern is sponsoring up to RM20,000 in term life insurance for each NS participant. Takaful Nasional insures every NS participants up to RM58,000 each at a cost of RM7.80 with the premium fully borne by the government.

...

Under Takaful Nasional’s scheme, each participant would be insured up to RM29,000 for death, RM58,000 for permanent disability and RM15 daily for hospitalisation, she told reporters after attending the free insurance policy handing over ceremony by Great Eastern to the Defence Ministry in Kuala Lumpur last Friday.

Freaky Weird

You can't even take a weekend off(line) without something weird happening.

Upon checking my referrers, I found one site by someone I'm quite sure I don't know who claimed they 'lepak'-ed with me one Wednesday night.

Nevermind that I was home with someone watching an SATC marathon while stuffing ourselves with pizza...

What drives people to say these things? The post was somewhat neutral (nothing too slanderous other than the fact that the venue is somewhere I'd never knowingly set foot into), but I can say that I am freaked out by the fact that someone has found it fit to pretend they hung out with me.

I can only imagine that this person thinks that by linking to me, I will drive more hits to his site. Nevermind that it doesn't matter if your blog has 10,000 hits as opposed to 10, but seriously, don't you think this is a tad too freaky?

Update: Paranoia hits. What if there's someone out there pretending to be me and making friends with people I don't know?

Update (latest): He apologised - the reference was metaphoric... Phewh... what a relief! Thank God it wasn't something like this.

Desirability Factor

In response to a recent post on an SATC episode, and in view of other posts on the state of Malaysian men, a reader has offered a challenge that I'd like to bring to the forefront.

You gals out there, define romantic? since in general malaysian guys are not up to par with our western counter-part, pls shed some light why are we so bad?

Posted by Tony Iomi at 2004?02?06? 15:46.

With Valentine's day looming in a week's time, perhaps the ladies (and enlightened males out there) can offer our less-than-clued friends a hand. Please pen down your ideas of what is romantic and what is desirable in a man.

p.s. For those of you who feel the need to talk about what you would like to see in a woman, wait.

Looking In

I stumbled upon a quote on one of the walls at work today, that says that being progressive means being the embodiment of how we want the world to be.

The focus of change is always ourselves. It's such a microscopic concept that it's almost colossal. We often worry too much about how other people are, sometimes we end up gossiping about the misfortune of others, as if knowing that there are people who are more miserable than us is entertainment enough to forget about our own miserable existence.

There are too many of us who gripe, this is evident in the blogs we read and the conversations we overhear in Chinoz or even on a crowded escalator. But one finger pointed at others yields three that points back to ourselves and one thing I learned in my short stint on this earth is that it is better to keep quiet, lest we risk being that which we hate, and forget that we're not that great either...

"The Ick Factor"

This is another SATC spoiler, but it's too funny to not post about.

One of the latest episodes of SATC features more of Carrie's new 'lah-verrr', a suave 50-something man-about-town, a Mr Alexander (Alek-sahn-dur) Patrovsky.

Carrie finds it difficult at first to deal with his old world ways - he's very much the romantic (and IMHO, the all-rounded good guy). He reads poetry to her, he composes music in her honour, he makes pancakes for breakfast and despite all the things he has going on around him, he makes her the centre of his world (for this episode at least!)

On one date, he surprises her with opera tickets, complete with the Oscar de la Renta dress that she once described in one of their chats.

As they approach the concert hall, Alexander chose to stop to savour the moment - the music, the night, and her - and proceeds to extend his hand and invite her to dance.

... at which point, she faints.

The bit where I couldn't stop laughing came after:

Alexander: Are you ok?
Carrie: No... It's too much... I'm an American, you gotta take it down a notch.

An early Happy Valentine's Day to all...

Sigh...

We're spoiled. We're utterly spoiled. Consecutive long weekends after a very long holiday period is not good, it makes you pine for more.

1. Hazelnut Zelante (read gelato)
2. Nachos with mango salsa