here's to

here's to christmas and new year,

to half-days and holidays that i get to enjoy,

to strong friendships and fleeting acquaintances – both of which have made my day,

to miracles, big and small, that have shown me a new way of looking at life,

to having lived the single life (i mean, with my own apartment and all) for about 11 months so far,

to another alcohol-less new year welcome,

to another year, with all its joys.

cheers!

all it takes - a story

there was still some 15 minutes before His lunch hour ended. He decided to take a walk, away from the noisy food-court. there was a time when a walk after lunch was a luxury. with advancing age, it becomes mandatory.

He passed by a 7-11 and on second thoughts, stepped in and made his way through the aisles. His throat was beginning to hurt. but rather than go to a doctor and pile up on antibiotics, He preferred to buy some 'fisherman's friend' lozenges. changing times were evident even here – the strong lozenges that was once packed in stiff paper bags was now in a resealable plastic pouch.

picking up His preferred flavour, He made his way to the checkout counter. as He fumbled with His wallet, looking for change, the door opened and a young boy walked in with an ice cream cone. the boy was clearly a construction worker, probably working on one of the many sites that dotted the area. his face was tanned and sweaty from the sun, and his boots caked with mud. the boy had clearly been wanting to eat an ice cream for a long time. the desire was writ large on his face, and in the gentle way in which he held the cone.

the boy asked the cashier for the price. upon being told that it was $1, his face fell. yet, he took out some coins from his pocket and counted them, probably hoping there would be enough. upon realizing that he had only 70 cents, the boy mumbled that he was short, passed the ice cream to the cashier and started to walk back.

watching all of this, He could not keep quiet. He could not bear to see the disappointment in the boy's eyes.

"boy, come back. here, take the ice cream. i will pay for it." He called out. the boy hesitated. He turned to the cashier and told her that He would pay for the ice cream cone. taking the cone back from the cashier, He passed it to the boy.

"here you go. enjoy it." He said with a smile. in return, the boy gave him the happiest smile He had seen in a long time on anyone's face. He watched as the boy carefully unwrapped the cone and licked up the cream stuck to the paper.

as He walked back to his office, He recollected the incident – the boy's smile; the happiness derived from making someone happy; the shared empathy of just how hard it is for some people to afford even the smallest things in life – He had just been witness to all of those priceless emotions.

and all it took was a dollar.

visibly anonymous

at my workplace, i have a lady sitting next to me (as in the next cubicle) for the past 3 or 4 days – and i have no idea of who she is. i have heard her talk on the phone, have heard her name when someone else called her, i even unsuccessfully tried peeping to see what information was contained in the numerous piles of paper on her desk – but given that our 'cubicles' are bare open, there is little i could do.

i could of course turn around and ask her what her name is, whether she has just joined us, etc – but i feel funny doing that. so i walked over to our office admin person and whispered, "who is the person sitting at the desk next to me? new staff ah?" She whispered back, "I don't know, you know!"

phew! i wasn't the only one lacking information. but the fact that i had to ask the question in the first place made me wonder about my level of social skills. i don't consider myself an unsociable cave-woman. for the records, i have crossed the 100 mark in my list of friends on Facebook (an extremely modest figure, considering that the average friend-list on FB seems to border on 500; but hey, it shows i know some people). i am aware of their daily routines, their travel plans, their crises and their triumphs through their status updates. (and i must say its amazing as to how many people are willing to list their most personal of issues in that little space.)

funnily enough, i often feel that i 'know' a great deal about some people whom i have met only once in my entire life – and barely spoken to them.

come to think about it...*gasp* have i become so isolated by FB's illusory sense of 'keeping in touch' that i have become devoid of social interaction with strangers? its a wee bit scary, but it reminds me of some crazy net-addicts who cannot look or talk to people in front of them – they can only interact with people online.

in case you're waiting for an answer – no, i haven't reached such levels of isolation. but i should prep up my social skills a wee bit. and maybe leave a post-it for the lady-next-table listing my FB details and ask her to add me.

a farewell

it is always hard to come to terms with the fact that our association has come to an end. that we have parted ways, and will never come back together. when i seek you, i have to remind myself that you are no longer there.

i remember the times together. they say true beauty lies within, but you had a way of making me look good on the outside. you were on hand when time seemed to close in like a tide. you were there, all through those days, through rain and shine.

and i still remember that evening when something seemed wrong – a sense of foreboding that things were about to change. and that night, they did. we had to part.

my wonderful pair of 'the station' label black pants that i bought at tangs. i bid you farewell. there will never be one quite like you.

the timeless monday blues

a lot has changed in my life. but one thing has remained a constant – monday blues haunt me, like it does to many of us. as working life gets busier and busier, i find myself pushed to make the best of the weekend – run errands, clean the house, do the laundry, meet with friends...you get the drift. which makes it seem like the weekend no longer 'comes' – it whizzes by in a blur, and before i know it, the TGIF spirit is replaced by bleary eyes and an alarm announcing its time to wake up to yet another monday.

so, i lie in bed for a precious few more minutes, pondering just how many people might miss me if i don't go in to work – how about taking a day off? or getting an MC? it can't all that bad – can it? but then, the thought of looming deadlines makes me groan. hey, how about a few more winks, and then i can catch a cab to work? possible, but the thought of horrendous cab fares ripping out all the cash in my wallet makes me scream and run to the bathroom.

so it goes. like the little kid who hated school on mondays, i head to my office. but i give myself little treats to make up for it. i sleep a little bit longer on the bus. i make myself a cup of coffee before i start the work-day. as i raise the cup to my lips, i toast to yet another week – and remind myself that its just five more days to friday!

PS: if none of this makes any sense to you, and you are even wondering why i bothered writing a blog on this, you may need to head down to the nearest WA – workaholics anonymous.

bloggin in bombay

i drew more than a few stares when i walked around Churchgate station, trying to find a decent angle from which i could shoot a photograph. how could i explain to all the curious people rushing past to catch their train that this was the very station that once merited a beautiful black-and-white-photograph often held up as a representation of Bombay’s train stations? i couldn’t manage anything even remotely close – between clutching my bag, running after my cousin (also my companion/guide), and trying to make sure i was not pushed down by the crowd coming by. i could only snap a photo of the metal board that said Churchgate – a small effort, but one that will jog back some vivid memories of a city that draws me.

a glimpse of what life must be like in India's busiest city was afforded to me even before i left Singapore. the moment i stepped onto the flight, i could hear a dozen voices chattering away in ‘Bombay Hindi' telling an invisible listener back home that they would reach by about 9.45 pm, and yes, they will take a cab back, and of course, they will settle the outstanding issues once they reach. residents of Bombay must be every telecom company’s cherished customers. the handphones settled in once the plane started to move. (as if to make up for its loss, the man next to me plugged his earphones to the phone and started singing along with the songs.)

on the connecting buses that took us from the plane to the Shivaji International airport, almost everyone on board whipped out their handphones and started talking. one man was telling some one to order pav bhaji, an elderly gentleman was discussing doctor’s appointments, yet another was wondering just where to go – either his own home or his friend’s – being a saturday night, there was still time to party. in the days to follow, i would observe how everyone seemed to be obsessed with their handphones – calling or messaging constantly – in a city that measures time by seconds, it is but a small effort to ensure ties are kept strong and friendships alive.

i made my way through the airport's doors. the immigration-clearance line was, as expected, extremely long – snaking its way through a room hardly suited to handle crowds. as i struggled to push past the hordes to join a queue, i saw 'mr. pav bhaji' several paces ahead of me, still talking on the phone. a couple of American tourists stood around looking shell shocked at the crowd. the sing-along-diva who was earlier sitting next to me was in another line, asking everyone around him if they worked in Singapore and swapping numbers with those who did.

to my surprise, the queue moved fast. unlike the many hours when i had been stuck in similar lines in other indian cities, i found myself heading to the end of the queue in just ten minutes. i wondered if it was new found inner zen, later i found out it was just very fast-working officials, with one man whose only job was to swivel around in his chair and guide people to different counters.

step out. Bombay engulfs you. ratty taxis with their faded, wildly floral seats, and bright blue/red-lighted interiors beckon, almost looking like a movie-set on wheels. you walk over and tell the taxi-wallah where you want to go; he grunts, gives you a nod, reaches out to flick the meter and then spits out some of his paan before starting the car.

lights were ablaze all through the city. for Navaratri and Eid – and even as Hindi devotional songs blared from loudspeakers tied to poles along the road, so did the Muzzein's call to prayer from the mosques nearby. the radio DJs kept urging everyone to go for the many 'dandia dances' around the city. i drove through the Bandstand on Eid, watching crowds waiting to wish the famous Khan (Shah Rukh, just in case you wondered) of Bollywood who lives along that stretch. they had been standing there for hours, and would stand for many more, with no guarantee that they might even get a glimpse of their idol.

the streets of Bombay seem to run on a caffeine-buzz. there is a pulse to the constant stream of traffic and people, one that the un-oriented might find invigorating or disturbing. traffic jams are said to be the worst time consumers – and yet, a friend tells me the level of coordination here makes them a cakewalk compared to Dubai’s overpopulated roads. i hear that the latest in luxury cars are often spotted first on Bombay's streets, with resident millionaires eager to show off their latest acquisitions. after all, when real estate is scarce, and the country's top cricketer has to put up with an appartment (he is apparently building himself a bungalow after all these years), it is only fair that they indulge in other luxuries befitting their millions.

after the first three days, i realised that the heart of Bombay is in its streets. i walked along Linking road in Bandra, looking at the stretch of shops with shoes and clothes – and bought a couple of pairs of sandals for less than a quarter of the price the guy quoted initially. bargaining is the culture here. the key – if the shopkeeper asks you to come back when you pretend to walk away, it means he will go lower. it is all in good spirit, and even as i chattered away about my newly acquired sandals, i caught the shopkeeper smiling at my excitement.

shopkeepers were less inclined to bargain along the Colaba causeway stretch, preferring to let go of our sales for the easy western tourists that throng the area. selling Indian kitsch and antiques, mini sculptures and t-shirts emblazoned with images of the Hindu gods, they beckon passers-by to stop and admire. Leopold's and Cafe Mondegar's are the watering holes of choice here, with a brand new McDonalds hovering nearby. 'local' favourites never lose their appeal here. i heard a rumour that Starbucks had tried to enter the market by buying over an ailing coffee-house chain called Barista, but a prominent industrialist pumped in enough millions to keep Barista afloat and the Starbucks mermaid at bay.

as with everything else, food aficionados are spoilt for choice here – every cuisine is well represented. i got a taste of italian with a creamy cannelloni and spicy arabiatta at a place called Red Box and had excellent indian food at Copper Chimney where the buffet included miniature cups with bite-size chaat portions and wonderful eggless cakes. but the best food was at roadside stalls. i stopped at Jay's Sandwich Stall in Bandra for the best grilled sandwich i have ever eaten – made with a dollop of chutney, butter, cheese and vegetables – they make Subway look like amateurs. i ate bhelpuri while watching Rock On in a cinema, turning to taking a few bites from a paneer roll and regretting buying popcorn. on a drizzly evening outside the Sterling theater, a man with a push-cart stall and a plastic sheet for a roof made us sandwiches in a hand-held toaster heated over a bucket of burning coals. he then coated the sandwich with ketchup and sprinkled sev over it – it was amazing. and i got to satisfy my love for tea with two tiny cups of 'cutting chai' at a stall on the outskirts of Dharavi

a mini city more than a slum, Dharavi's narrow streets lead into a maze of two-storey tin shambles that house probably half the city's population. within, entire families live, work and build a life. it is the barest of the bare, but Dharavi is said to ensconce an economy that is half in size of Bombay's 'legal' one. everything from jewellery to custom-made leather cases and illegal passports is said to be available here – it is the stuff of mafia-inspired movies and semi-biographic novels. even as it cheekily sits alongside Bombay's multi-million properties, Dharavi seems to challenge notions of contemporary well-being and satisfaction – i heard that some executives live there as rents are too high elsewhere. i walked a few paces inside the narrow alley. a group of children pushed past, running and laughing. the narrow streets are one reason why fires are the worst disasters in these areas. and yet, despite the many fires, life is rebuilt. bit by bit, every time.

and a visit to probably the most touted historical landmark was inevitable. the Gateway of India, built to welcome Queen Victoria. even as i walked towards it, i was filled with an emotion i can remotely describe as awe. the passage way to the city, an entrance to a new world. seen beyond its walls, the seashores acquire a new meaning. a magnificent structure, one now swathed in nets and propped up by bamboo poles for what many say is a stab at renovation.

opposite is the opulent Taj hotel, housing some of the biggest brands and the richest guests in town. a story goes that the Taj was designed such that the entrance was to face the Gateway, so that guests who used the swimming pool within could look out at the magnificent Gate and the seas beyond. unfortunately, the architect was away when construction was underway and the only time he did get to see the irremediable error was when it was fully completed. upon seeing the walled back of the hotel from his boat at the entrance of the Gate, the architect suffered a heart attack and died on the spot. while it is a good enough story, it is just fiction - or so they say.

the Taj is only one of the many colonial-style buildings that give Bombay its distinct character. now housing offices and hotels, these buildings reflect a time when intricate architecture was still desired. in line with the culture of contrasts, they stand staidly alongside square flats and small ratty shambles that cram people within a few inches of space.

along the busier roads off the serene streets, small shops elbow each other along the pavement – watch repair, drycleaners, grocery stores and many others that offer day-to-day services – when in view is a big ‘sweet shop’ that is more a restaurant. i walk in there, take a winding staircase up to their a/c room and indulge in chaat, pepsi and an Indian sweet. i need my sugar rush. i start walking again. but this time, the traffic has swollen and i have to keep a look out to ensure that i don't get in the way of the huge lorries and buses, as well as the smaller taxis and autos.

unable to find any shops that afford retail therapy, we ask passing taxi-wallahs for directions, they shout an answer back as they whizz by. we finally give in to exhaustion and catch a taxi back home (calling a taxi a 'cab' here just doesn’t sound right). we pass by the strip of lights famously known as the ‘queen’s necklace’. i ask the taxi-wallah to stop for a little while. he obliges. i walk over, climb onto the ledge, and face the seafront.

i try to take a photograph, but my attempts yield miserable results. i put away the camera and gaze out to the horizon. feeling the salt-tinted breeze run its fingers gently though my hair, i look on the skyline of lights, one that has drawn many to its shores. lights that hold the promise many come seeking.

it is a scene that can never be described enough. or even described.

gun-shot holiday

25-sept-2008
keeping in line with today's world of reality shows, this post will tell the tale of my suddenly-planned-holiday - today, my 'holiday' is a fuzzy desire to go to bombay for a week. my plans to take my holiday in end october got turned around by bad project timings, and i applied for my leave for the whole of next week - with an initial plan of visiting manila to see my aunt and uncle.

i was about to book my ticket when it suddenly hit me that i am still stuck with an indian passport - which means no free entry to most parts of the world. (&*$%@#^!@$% - if you've read 'asterix' comics, you will know what this stands for).

i can't get my visa to any place within two days, which leaves me few options - the most feasible of which is to visit india. but i don't want to go back to madras, my birth-city, for some deep personal reasons, and a sheer lack of boredom with the place.

suddenly, bombay came to mind. i visited the city only once in 2004, and wanted to go back there again. but the ticket prices are exorbitant (even while on promotion). the check factor is that i have my cousin there and will be able to scale back on paying for accommodation.

what do i do?

so here i am, typing away at my office (while furtively looking behind to make sure no one is looking at my screen). i have no idea if i will take the flight to bombay or cancel my leave. keep waiting as i am to see how the story unfolds.

26-Sept-2008

i met a friend for lunch yesterday afternoon, and sounded out the idea of going to bombay to her. her enthusiasm was infectious and i called up my agent and booked my ticket. i was also playing with the thought of borrowing my dad's credit card number to book online and maybe save some money on the web offers.

my holiday seemed to be falling in place, and i was happily contemplating the coming days. but the evening threw a new twist or more like a wrench into the process - my dad is en transit for work and was due to leave today to another place, but for unavoidable reasons, his plans suddenly got changed and he is here now without any clear idea of when he will be leaving or just where he will go.

if things were different, i could tell my dad to stay in my appartment and whiz off on my holiday, but i don't feel right doing that.

so for now, i am stuck with no idea of what is going to happen - with my fingers crossed that things will still somehow work out and i will be sitting in changi airport waiting to take off by tomorrow evening.

its a long shot, but who knows - maybe, just maybe, i might get lucky :)

27-sept-2008

in about 10 minutes, i will be leaving my house to get to changi airport and catch a jet airways plane to mumbai!! yipppeee!! :)

my dad's flight plans worked out and i had initially planned to leave on Sunday. i called my cousin to tell him of the plans when he wondered aloud as to why i was wasting one day of the weekend (the only time he gets off). after a 2-minute discussion, i called up the travel agent and changed the day, then hurriedly showered and left the house.

all this occurred on saturday morning - i was to collect my ticket by 1pm, pick up some travel essentials, pack and leave for the airport by 5pm. it was a mad rush, but i somehow managed to overcome it and reach the airport on time.

i had no idea of which terminal i was to go to. the taxi man insisted on taking me to terminal 1, whereupon i realised that i was supposed to be in terminal 3. i took the skytrain there - on the train, some kids were excitedly climbing on ther seats and walking around. i maintained a cool composure, but within was a desire to run around shouting 'wheeee!'. later, sitting at the burger king in terminal 3 and muching on a fry, it almost seemed unbeleivable. a holiday planned in three days - its fun. i plan to do it again!

the grass on this side

we are living amidst what will soon go down as the biggest economic boo-boo after the great depression in the 1930s. banks are collapsing around us, the US feds and some of the top executives of the thus-far-top companies have been working 24-hour-days to save the last dregs of their stocks, and some very rich people have suddenly become paupers. 

whatever else it may have in terms of lessons to learn, it sure has taught a lot of people the value of gratitude and the fact that the grass is not always greener on the other side. until a couple of weeks back, making it into merill lynch or lehman brothers called for a bottle of champagne - now, many of the bankers are probably putting up their stock of wine on ebay to pay off their debts. 

i was reflecting on this, and thanking the unseen heavenly forces above that my not-so-highly-paying job can at least still help to pay for my rent. i went to see my boss about something, when this issue cropped up (its sad and bad, but its the talk of the town), and he put an even bigger spin on it - 'imagine if you were a rising executive in lehman, who recently bought a posh flat in manhattan - now you're broke, your wife wants to divorce you, and all the stocks that made you a millionaire are worthless.' 

i am not suggesting that the rest of the world celebrate - it would be in bad taste. neither do i suggest passing hats around to start a help-the-bankers-fund - they were the smartest of us all, they will find a way to survive. 

what i do want to say through this ramble of words is this - the grass is not always greener on the other side. if it is, it may just be made of plastic!

the 'perfect' marriage

my friend sent me an article forwarded to her email. the article is titled 'finding and keeping a life partner' written by someone called 'dov heller, M.A.' (im guessing the M.A. is proof of her credentials to sit us down and tell us about life, rather than some family-name-initials.)  

anyway, the article begins with a profoundly obvious statement - everyone gets married with the perfect marriage in mind, but about half of them end up in divorce. right. she goes on to say that most of the people make a mistake of marrying the people they 'love'. (*gasp* - and here i was foolishly thinking that love is what makes the world go around.) 

anyway, the key point of the article is this - love doesn't work. put your brain to work and ask 5 key questions before committing to a person, to remain married until one or both of you die (pragmatic restatement of 'until death do us part'). they are: 1. do you both share a common life purpose?; 2. do i feel safe expressing my thoughts and feelings with this person?; 3. is he/she a sensitive/refined person, who is always trying to do good?; 4. how does he/she treat other people?; 5. am i hoping to change this person after marriage? 

i leave it to you to figure out as to what should be the 'right' answers.

i would like to put in one little footnote: ask any single person who is on the lookout and they will agree that it is becoming increasingly hard to find a person who you get along with so well that you are willing to consider living together for the rest of your life. it is a tad surprising, but everyone around you would be getting hitched, including the person you set your eyes on, except you. 

i wonder then, how many singles would be willing to put themselves through such an acid test and risk losing the person, rather than using the time to plan the wedding. i mean, if you can bum on the couch/go for a movie/dance/hike together and come back feeling like you had a great time, why not? yes, i know ms. heller might say it is a recipe for disaster, but it does seem more practical. 

that aside, i am always amazed at just how many interpretations have sprung up on this subject of love and marriage. it has been compared to waiting for a bus, a star wars-type-alliance between aliens from mars and venus, a box of chocolates, a roll of the dice, and even an unknown and unknowable inscription on our foreheads. wow.

a lot of thought apparently goes into marriages these days. a reporter from a magazine once interviewed my grandparents as to the success of their 75-year marriage (divorce was not an option back then, but there were run-away husbands and wives) my grandmother's answer was quite simple - "we never thought about whether we were happy or not - we were married, that's all."

no, don't get me wrong. in this age of technological advances, i am not suggesting that we abandon our brains. but i am not going to add any more notes to the check list on what-to-look for/do-before-you-say-yes. 

why? because i don't know what love is all about. i cant describe it, i cant say where or how you find it, and i cant say how one can confirm if what they are feeling is love or if it is just an endorphin or adrenaline induced high. 

but i do know one thing - that there are couples in this world who have found it. i see it in their contented smiles, in their care to ensure that everything is just right for each other over simple things, in their longing to head home to spend time with their other half. and this is what i see a few weeks, months and many years of marriage - somehow, life with all its downpours of drudgeries never seems to dampen their bond. 

these couples are ironically the ones who never offer advice on love or marriage - maybe because some of the greatest nuggets of wisdom can never be told. they can only be felt and experienced.

maybe i should add a bullet to the checklist - "none of the above"

the day i gave to charity...

charity - it draws a mixed reaction from me. yes, yes, i know that it is good to give, and it ensures a few brownie points on your karma scale as well. but the 'giving' is not easy - i mean, if i were to use the law of opportunity cost (i.e. what-else-could-i-do-with-the-money calculation), i can come up with scores of options. no, i don't think i am a miser, i am just being, well, economically-minded.

so, what made me buy a $50 SACA charity film premiere ticket? well, i went for one last year (for 'die hard 4') and they wowed me with a box of yummy caramel corn placed right on top of my seat! such simple gestures win me over. *wipes tear, sniffs* and i was able to get a tax waiver on the $42 that was given in addition to regularly priced $8 ticket. ooh, and add in the karma points. quite cool eh.

so i bought another ticket this year, out of the goodness of my heart of course, and made my way to the cathay cineplex. i was waiting to catch 'journey to the center of the earth'. there was a long line of people outside, including some singer dude from t.v., who was obviously very happy with the glances/stares he was getting. loads of people is good, it means lots of tickets were sold. but it also set of alarm bells in my head - was i going to wait for long?

apparently, the SACA folks guessed that most singaporeans (and residents) are impatient people. they opened the doors on time, got us all seated quickly, and waltzed the VIPs through the pre-movie program (which included the donation of the big cheques - i mean, the really big cheques that are half-a-person's size; and a couple of appreciation speeches). snap snap - no time wasted, no glitches. having sat through some very tedious pre-event ceremonies that stretch for hours, i applaud them.

i wonder though, how many people were listening to the speeches, thanks to a goodie-bag that was placed on each seat. it had the box of caramel popcorn (thank you!), a magazine, a columbia water bottle, and loads of discount vouchers. and a souvenir notebook based on the movie's theme. ooh!

but as with all good things, it had to come an end. the movie began, and within 10 minutes, i was bored to tears. brandon frasier was fat, the story was utterly stupid and frankly, what's with the i-am-so-intelligent-blonde? and no, i don't think being a vernian would help much. jules vernes (erm, in case you don't know, he's the guy who wrote the book) himself is probably turning in his grave.

but that aside, it was a very enjoyable evening. i mean its not every wednesday of the week that i go out for a movie, and get people working hard from some months before to make sure i feel pampered.

yep, charity can be a good thing, and the charity film premiere gets a thumbs-up from me. cheers. so, when is the next one?

small gizmo, big control

its amazing how some of the physically smallest things can have the greatest impact on your life. like my handphone. (what were you thinking of?)

why this burst of wisdom? i left my handphone at home today - again - in what seems to be a string of recurring forgetfulness. and i feel weird without it.

this morning, i plugged in my handphone to charge, reminded myself to take it before i left, did the whole dressing-up-routine, reminded myself again, shoved things into my bag, reminded myself about the handphone, slipped on my sandals and left the house. halfway down the road, i realised i had forgotten my handphone. 

my reaction was amazing! i actually felt a momentary urge to run back and get it - risking having to climb the overhead bridge again (once is bad enough), and of course, being late to work. 

that is how much control my handphone has over me. not that it is surprising - my handphone is my phone, calendar, contact list, organiser, desk clock, alarm clock, gaming station - all in one. 

yes, i know that there are ways to get around these things, but it still feels like i left a big chunk of myself behind. there won't be any major calls or messages for me in the next 10 hours, but i feel like i am out in a desert when the whole world might be trying to get in touch. i cant remember most people's numbers anymore, not even my own (i have keyed in my home number into my handphone). so if i had to call anyone for anything by today, i can't do so. oh, and my handphone also has my to-do-list.

talk about over reliance on technology. and that's not all

one time, i left my handphone behind in a cab, and after making the necessary tedious calls to ensure no one can mess around with international dialling and stuff, i suddenly realised that i had no alarm for the next morning! i have no other alarm clock at home, my watches are all analog - and i sleep like a log! i tried the next best option - googling for an alarm clock. after time and effort, i downloaded an alarm clock program. come morning, it didn't work. loss of sleep due to sheer paranoia kept me awake and saved my job.  

i once used to laugh at techno-geek-fiction that pitted gadgets as the rulers of the future. i take it back now. handphones now mean power - they control us in ways we never imagined possible. 

all hail.

the cup with some water in it

boredom - it can do things to you. like making me wonder about the different kinds of things different kinds of people might say when they see a cup half-full with water. yep, i know there is the positive/negative-attitude-thing attached to it. and in respect for the timeless and endlessly quoted example, i have begun this post with it. but hey, here's a take on what some others might say as well:

table with a glass cup half full with water, and group of people standing around it.

optimist: the glass is half-full, we have half a glass of water to drink!

pessimist: but it is half empty, i never get a full glass...

counsellor: so how do you feel when you see this glass with the water in it?

philosopher: it represents life, with its unfulfilled desires and existentialist issues...

pragmatist: does the glass have a crack in it?

george bush: i think this is not water, but unidentified chemicals. we shall test it of course, but also send in the army into iraq to save time on the attack.

terrorist: they have taken away 'the water', the gift of life from us, just like they took away our nation - we shall attack and return victorious with the other half of the water!

singapore environment board: such glasses with water are breeding grounds for dengue - throw it out at once - and we will fine you anyway for having kept a glass with some water in it!

 

two-cents 'worth'(?)

yesterday when i was indulging in the therapeutic diversion of surfing the net, i came across an article titled 'well meaning meddlers - how to deal with them'. you can read it if interested at 

http://edition.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/personal/07/23/lw.meddlers/index.html?iref=nextin

anyways, heres an extract:

"as the mother of a toddler, stephanie delger has learned how to pick her battles. 

that's why during a trip to the grocery store a few months ago, the 25-year-old freelance writer decided to give her son joshua a cookie when she sensed a tantrum coming on. 

but as it turned out, he wasn't the only one she would butt heads with that day.

delger happened to be sharing the aisle with a woman of around 60, who watched as joshua grew cranky and attempted to stand up in the cart. when delger mollified him with a cookie, she offered some unsolicited advice. 

'she  started lecturing me and telling me i shouldn't give in to tantrums and that i should have taken him outside and spanked him.' delger says.

then the woman did the unthinkable: she took the cookie away from joshua, who was only 14 months old at that time. 

'his little face just crumpled' says delger, who decided to give the woman some advice of her own. 'i told her [that her] behavior was completely out of line and that it was ridiculous. her advice was unnecessary and unappreciated.'

mother and son then left the scene, and joshua got a new cookie - and a balloon - as consolation."

(end of extract) 

different people might have different opinions on this - but i applaud the mum for telling off the lady. snatching a cookie from the kid is something i just cannot forgive. come on people, its a cookie we're talking about here!

but that aside, advice-givers are aplenty around us - and no matter what their background, they will morph into a career agent/marriage counsellor/pastor/childcare expert/banker as per the situation. and the best part of all - they believe their advice is the best to be had. 

so it is not surprising that they feel slighted - more like highly offended - when the person on the receiving end does not 'take' the advice seriously, let alone put it to use. 

to all well-meaning-meddlers out there - this is where you go wrong - you give away your life-enriching-nuggets-of-information - for free. 

set up a consultancy and slap on a fee for every minute you speak, save your breath and write it all down in a book and publish it, book a hall and hold a seminar - and the same advice will be taken much more seriously and you get to make some money in the process. (that is why lawyers and bankers are taken so seriously - they charge so much per hour that anything they say is taken seriously.) never fear about getting an audience - there are enough people who will spend to hear the same thing in different words. who knows, you may even be featured on oprah with dr. phil. 

this is the irony of life - people would trample over each other to get to a prada sale, but put all the goods out with a 'FREE' sign, and the same crowd would pick and choose, and then leave it all there.

there ain't no free lunches, 'cos no one wants a free one anyway!

p.s. this is not 'free' advice - if you do use it and make money, i hope you will have the decency to forward me the royalty cheque!

great minds think alike

an inspiration, but one unsung.

those close to me would know what it is. for the rest, read on.

there were a lot of thoughts that simmered within me, but words just wouldn't flow to express them all.

until i chanced upon the poem below. 

to the poet who wrote it, i thank you for the composition that has brought together many sentiments in a verse close to what i might have written. it is true - great minds do think alike.

The drink of Gods - by Sheikh Ansari Hanball Abd-al-Kadir, 1857

"OH COFFEE, you dispel the worries of the great, you point the way to those who have wandered from the path of knowledge. Coffee is the drink of the friends of God, and of His servants who seek wisdom.

"As coffee steeps in the cup it gives off a musky aroma and turns the colour of ink. No one can understand the truth until he drinks of its frothy goodness Those who condemn coffee are fools in the eyes of God.

"Coffee is the common man's gold, and like gold it brings to every man the feeling of luxury and nobility. Coffee differs from pure, gentle milk only in its taste and colour. Take time in your preparation of coffee and God will be with you and bless you and your table. Where coffee is served there is grace and splendour, friendship and happiness.

"All cares vanish as the coffee cup is raised to the lips. Coffee flows through your body as freely as your life's blood, refreshing all that it touches; look you at the youth and vigour of those who drink it. 

"Whoever tastes coffee will forever forswear the liquor of the grape. Oh drink of God's glory, your purity brings to man only well being and nobility." 

making it count

i recently got my first electricity/water supply bill in my new place. and it was very good to read that i didn't owe the electricity-and-water-people anything - nope, not a cent! whoo-hoo! 

how did this come to be? 

well, for one, the government is handing out some dole to help shoulder the burden of inflation through utilities subsidies. and since i have been extremely conservative in my zeal to reduce costs and save the earth - not using the aircon, switching off at the socket, yada yada - my bill was less than the sponsored amount thereby giving me a surplus.

still happy at the prospect of one less bill to cry over, i waltzed over the grocery store. and when i came to the end of the check-out (the horrible moment when you pay) - it suddenly hit me. 

to really benefit from utilities surplus, i should try and use up every single cent that i have extra. i should expend a lot more water and power - kinda following from the logic that the best benefit of a buffet is gained when you eat much more than what it cost you

but how long can i stand under the shower? and what's the point of keeping the lights and fan on when im not around? and given the media overload on saving the earth, its hard to revert to my wasteful-habits-days.

i so wish there was some way i could transfer the extra 'money' from my bill and use it to pay for other things - like my groceries, shoes, clothes, etc. but that will never happen, especially not in a country where welfare-ism is frowned upon (gently of course, with lots of advice on how giving you more help can actually make you worse off).

but thats o.k. tonight i will reward myself by turning on the aircon full-blast. and the fan. oh yeah, and plug in my laptop. maybe even leave the lights on in the living room - for my fish.  

'the' career

as a kid, i always used to wonder what my 'ideal' career would be. several things seemed fun back then. i didn't pursue any of the career paths. but for memory's sake, i have listed them below (and just in case, in a moment of moronic decision-making, i decide to take up one of them - i have included notes as to why they are not as great after all!):

1. sailor:

why: my dad worked on a ship. and it seemed so cool that he could visit almost every part of the world every few months - without forking out airfare. 

why not: your 'home' would be on top of your 'workplace'. you're on call 24/7. and forget pretending you cant hear the call - they will come and yank you out of your cabin. the only way out is to jump into the sea.   

2. sports commentator:

why: ringside seats for free (or even if you're not ringside, you get to watch the game from a room with hi-tech cameras that can 'see' the ball better than the players themselves), you can talk non-stop and no one minds. in fact, they pay you for it. 

why not: you need to actually know the ins-and-outs of the game, be well versed in the history of the players, and the history of the previous players as well, and a lot more history about previous games. phew!

3. paparazzi photographer:

why: you can be in the thick of all the action, chase the celebrities and snap their photograph. not everyone can wangle an invitation to the golden globes or oscars - but this way, you can confidently say - "i was this close to george clooney/angeline jolie/will smith/etc" 

why not: too much running around - and the otherwise sugar-sweet celebrities can be maniacs when their make-up is off and a camera is pointed at them. 

4. model:

why: i used to watch miss. universe, and it seemed too easy. all you gotto do is wear nice clothes and walk around. if you win, you get loads of freebies and a crown. 

why not: i love food - and am against dieting or exercise. i would probably fall down dead after the first day if forced into a regime that involves both. 

5. fire-woman:

why: its so cool! you can battle the raging flames, play with water, and even save some people in the process. 

why not: i am scared of lighting my kitchen stove flame sometimes - handling a building on fire can be, well, quite scary!

thanks mum - a story

life is never easy, or fair. and when you are 'picked out' to make a presentation before a room full of your peers, it's tough luck. almost like a punishment. 

she didn't want to do it, but there was no other go. when the order comes from higher up, you have to listen, prepare and hope for the best. 

the problem weighed on her mind when she headed home. all the way in the bus, it gnawed at her, making her normally bright eyes look troubled and withdrawn. everyone who saw her could see something was clearly wrong - the bus driver said a cheery 'hello', a man stood up to offer his seat, a lady gave her a special smile. 

she tried to smile back, made an effort to say 'thank you', but her lips seemed frozen. she was scared she could only squeak if she tried to string a few words together. she wanted to burst into tears. 

she finally reached home. sliding down on the comfortable couch felt good. having her mum coming over with a place of french fries felt better. mum always knew what to do to make even the worst day seem not-so-bad. 

she talked about her problem to her mother. not that her mum didn't know - but it felt good to talk about it. when she finished, her mum reached over and took her hand.  

"i know you will do much better than you think. you are the best there can ever be. this is just fear and panic - put it out of your mind and you will be fine."

"i wish you could be there, with me."

"just close your eyes and imagine me holding your hand. that should help." 

she smiled and nodded. it was worth a try. 

so it was the next morning. she fiddled with her pencil until it was time to stand up and walk over to the front. and as she covered the steps, she tried to feel her mum with her, right there, holding her hand. 

it was time to begin. she looked around the room. the rest of the class - a bunch of five-year-olds - looked back at her. some blinking, some curious.

here goes. she raised her voice slightly and began.

"for my show-and-tell today, i have brought a photograph of my pet..." 

an achievement

it is a feeling that comes when you suddenly realise that you have crossed a mark. when you make it beyond that line, without even realising it - and then suddenly out of the corner of the screen, the magic number beckons. 

i have crossed the formidable milestone of ten posts. this the eleventh. and i am looking forward to the next milestone. 

cheers to myself. pat, pat.

:p

an impending sign of doom

i am starting to fear that the worst may just come to pass. that my hair will fall out, and not grow back fast enough to replenish the loss.

i know that speculating the worst is not a good thing. but it can be quite scary when i wash my hair and find the drain clogged by a lot more strands than before. going by common sense, it takes longer for a hair to grow that it does to just fall out - so even with my terrible math abilities, it seems like it is not a good sign. 

the feeling of something-bad-may-just-come-to-be gets worse when i visit my relatives, and my aunt greets me with, "you have less hair than before". talk about honesty (leave aside courtesy and politeness).

somehow, hair loss seems to be so much more easily handled by men. some look more dignified with a half-head of hair, still others just go 'cool' and shave it all off. i don't think either option would suit me. 

no, sticking needles in my head to rekindle the blood flow and stimulate the cells is not something i desire. neither do i want to soak the remaining strands in lotions with suspect chemicals. 

but hope seems to be at hand. i read a book where a woman suffered terrible hair loss, tried everything and failed; and then got her hair growth back to normal after she paid a visit to the city of amritsar in north india - a land populated by men and women who revere their hair to the extent that they wont cut it (some believe they are descendants of samson, the mythical hero whose strength was contained in his hair).

maybe i should plan my next holiday with amritsar in mind.

moonstones for four dollars - a story

guilt is an ugly feeling, especially when you know it will rear its head again - through the eyes and words of the person whom you have hurt. more than guilt, though, he wouldn't be able to bear the sudden reddening of her cheeks and silent tears when he would break the news to her. 

he had lost her moonstone ring. 

as always, it was something that never should happened. she had taken it off to write something, and then left it behind on his office table. he had remembered to slip it into his pocket. but somewhere along the way, while taking out his wallet, it must have fallen out onto the road. he had retraced his steps but it could not be found. it would have been found by some one. finders keepers. 

as he walked aimlessly absorbed in his thoughts, the harsh glare of the open, bright bulbs from a pushcart stall hit his face. serendipity. it was selling imitations of semi-precious stones in bracelets, chains, prayer beads - and rings. he felt himself drawn to it.

the short old man was sitting behind the stall, eating from an instant-noodles-cup. the man looked up, nodded, and went back to eating. 

he looked among the rings. if there was one thing he prided himself on, it was his memory - it was like a photographer's plate. and he had seen the ring many times over, each time he kissed her fingers.  

he held up a ring with a whitish stone - similar to the moonstone ring he had lost and asked the old man to show him any more pieces of the same kind. the man looked irritated but obliged. he muttered a prayer under his breath. the old man was probably mumbling a curse. 

and there was one. so close in colour and design that it was sure to fool the eye. he was ecstatic but took care not to show it - it would be hard to bargain if the old man knew he wanted it so badly. 

"how much?"

"six."

"too much, four?"

"five."

"four."

the old man muttered something he couldn't catch, wagged his hands, but agreed to the deal. 

he knocked on her door with a vigour he had never had before. she opened and stepped out - her parents were asleep. he held out the ring. she had left it behind, and he brought it along to give it to her. he knew how much she liked it. he didn't want her to miss it. 

that night, he fell asleep with a smile. he would save and buy her a real moonstone ring. soon. 

she fingered the ring with a smile. her old ring had a chip on it at the back. a small one, that only she knew. this one looked new. but it didn't matter. it was so close to the old one. she had bought it at some small roadside shop as a memory of a ring she had admired on her grandmother. what had the old one cost - four dollars?

but for beauty's sake

imagine lying back on a chair like the one in your dentist's clinic. the delicate skin on your eyelid is pulled down and stretched. another point on the forehead above the eyebrow is pulled the opposite way so that the area of epidermis (*= skin) is taut. now, a sliver of harsh thread is pulled across the eyebrow, ripping the hair from its roots!

ouch! 

did that sound like a torture scene from a psycho thriller? it was actually just a very dramatic and over exaggerated description of what happens when i go for threading to shape my eyebrows. and no, it is not all as bad as i describe - and it leaves me with nice, arched eyebrows that highlights my eyes (a very rational person once pointed my eyes are quite small, so it doesn't matter - i refused to heed the observation).

but back on track, i often wonder over just how much more willing people have become to undergo procedures that are not exactly a song by the beach - to enhance/alter their looks just that much more. and they are willing to put up regimens worse than those even within the israeli army.

i remember an episode from a make-over series. there was a lady with bandages on her face after major surgery, simultaneously put on a cabbages-and-water diet to lose weight, and kept away in some isolated appartment. day-in-day-out for about six week. 

at the end of it all, she was extremely happy with her new found beauty, and made the whole process seem matter-of-fact - and something we all should be doing - just like getting a haircut. 

i prefer threading. 

the price of nirvana

i just came across a statement - it is 'said' or rumoured more like - that burma's/myanmar's famous shwedagon pagoda has more gold on it than it kept in the bank of england's vaults. i haven't seen either - the pagoda or the vaults - so i cant comment on the level of truth in that statement. but hey, it sure is a lot of gold. 

the pagoda was built a long while back (about 2500 years ago) and back then, architects loved to lay 'holy' structures with all the gold and jewels they could get their hands on. (*a cynical view of this was that it was the kings' insurance plan - very few would attack and plunder a temple for fear of collecting more bad karma, and of course, disturbing some irritable gods) and anyway, gold and precious stones was in great supply back then, so why not have the 'real' thing to jazz up the decor.

with shortages of all kinds right now and increasing inflation, i would expect such grandiose ideas to have been limited to history. i am wrong. 

some years back, i visited pondicherry - a very scenic town in south india where road signs are still written in french (yep, you read right - french) and roadside vendors hawk apples as 'pommes'. c'est beau!

some miles off pondicherry, there is a 'model-mini-world-project' that aims to find the key to lasting peace, overcoming colour-based discrimination (move over luther and mandela), and maybe even mending the ozone layer. it is like an improvised village built in circles around a banyan tree. scenic, peaceful, nice. 

a jarring intrusion was a huge, dome-like structure, covered halfway with gold. yep, good gold bought with donations by people the world over. it was still awaiting more money and gold when i visited, and was cordoned off (probably for fear that the visitors would claw away bits from it). the purpose of this gigantic, expensive structure - it was a meditation hall.  

pardon my ignorance - but cant meditation be done in a bricks-and-mortar dome? or are the pantheon of deities going to be upset if they are called to bestow grace in a hall less than pleasing to their high tastes? 

i don't know who designed the dome. but if she/he/they are pursuers of 'nirvana' - they are paying too high a price - (strictly in my opinion only) of the wrong kind!

a ghostly possibility

i may have been sharing my house with a ghost until two days back. no, really. it all started some days after i moved in to my new house, and had trouble sleeping. 

what makes me sure it is a ghost? (you ask with a cynical air)

now, i am a very deep sleeper (very few things wake me up - and i haven't figured what the 'few things' are as of yet). so if something is bothering me, and disturbing my sleep - it has to be something extra-worldly. plus the fact that i felt 'something' heavy sitting on me once, heard raps on my door and table couple of times, not to mention that a friend (who is exceedingly sensitive to paranormal forces) felt 'uncomfortable' when she visited.

initially, i ignored the ghost. turned my back on it and its nonsense. but apparently, 'it' refused to understand. and kept up its antics. that's when it became apparent i had to do something. hey, i gave up my job at a news channel - not entirely because of, but also - because my sleep was too jilted by the shift-arrangement. so it really didn't make sense to put up with something that makes that decision seem meaningless. right?

so it was. but frankly i was in no mood to hire a priest or exorcist (actually, more like i cant afford their exorbitant rates). and then, a friend suggests an instant cure - prayer, and some simple rituals to propitiate the gods. it seemed a bit off for me but i tried - AND IT WORKED!

holy cow! i am not atheist, but i am not into rituals. but just having some hymns playing and chanting a simple prayer before lights-out has made sure i have restful shut-eye. 

the ghost is apparently resentful. it made some screechy, weird noises from outside my bedroom (note 'outside') the first night, but for now, it seems to have given up. and is maybe scouting around for a new place. 

so, its adios to the ghost that 'shared' my appartment. too bad for the paranormal dude/dudette. but hey, you aint getting real estate for free in sky-high-rents-Singapore. Even if you don't take up much space, literally. 

mind power!

i was at a stationary shop during lunch, looking through all the nice but unnecessary things they put up so tantalizingly on display, and thinking idly playing a song in my head - when the SAME song started playing in the shop!

ooohhh!! talk about the power of the mind! i mean, it has to be mind power, right? (other than being a weird, once-in-a-while coincidence) ok, here goes...what do i want my mind to make happen?

what do i wanna be?

the thing about writing this blog is this - i do hope some-(more than)-one will read it, get hooked on my writing, wait for daily updates. and then, cruising along, i may just get 'noticed' and offered a big chunk of money to publish it as a book, and then there will people out there who will read "the little corner in the not-so-big circle", maybe even quote it in b-grade management seminars (i mean, if they can talk about cheese and rats, they can talk about a circle, right?). you get the drift, don't you?

ideally, i should regard this daily blogging thing as a steam-release for all my pent-up feelings  - and i do regard it as that, believe me - but ever so often, i drift into dreams of potential success. (*potential - a genius invention of language that has excused all bankers from ever accepting responsibility for our losses)

why do i dream - because sometimes i feel like i should have done something with my life by now - like written for/written about in the International Herald Tribune, had my own very successful TV talk show, making a million dollars, yada yada.

stuff like this hits me when i read about people who have done some very admirable things by the time they were in their 20s - and of course, the next generation of self-made-millionaires seems to be coming up from among teenagers. (*makes me wonder about the DIY-finance books by kiyosaki and the like - do they actually work?)

the thought is a deep one - kinda brings up the whole gamut of my own expectations vs. external influences - and throw in the childhood-memory-analysis for good measure. but for now, i am an unusual late-20s-gal, in my fourth job in about 2 years - going off to dream a bit more. 

money matters (it really does!)

in today's world where self-made millionaires are in their 20-s, i am a poor, financially un-viable soul. heck, i could even make a good case study for management students of just what they dont want to see themselves as! i have a full-time job, but with a huge chunk of it going towards my rent, i am left with a pathetic amount for sustenance, let alone savings! 

so, it comes as a rude shock when i realise that not only am i financially near-broke in the present, i could be much worse off in the future! i can see the financial pundits shaking their head and wagging their fingers at me. 

the best way to handle this would be - ideally - to grit my teeth and save some money and invest it in one of the many plans that bankers have complicated with jargon only they can understand, cross my fingers and hope it wont evaporate in the stock market, and wait - then maybe, when i am closer to 50, i will enough 'extra-funds' generated to take a vacation (economy class, mind you!) or even a trip to a spa without having to cut corners on that month's budget. 

sounds tempting? 

maybe i should settle for the one-dollar ice cream from the nice uncles/aunties with the pushcarts along the road. instant gratification, no guilt!

100 facts about my self

1. How old will you be in five years? 32 *gasp*

2. Who did you spend at least two hours with today? my colleagues 

3. How tall are you? 5'4"

4. What do you look forward to most in the next six weeks? a fulfilling time at my new job and a good life

5. What's the last movie you saw? 'Kung-fu panda'! 

6. Who was the last person you called? my mommy

7. Who was the last person to call you? my best fren

8. What was the last text message you received? someone confirming that yes, they will buy me food

9. Who was the last person to leave you a voicemail? my boss-to-be

10. Do you prefer to call or text? call 

11. What were you doing at 12am last night? trying to sleep while some kid was walking around in squeaky shoes outside my house

12. Are your parents married/separated/divorced? married

13. When is the last time you saw your mom? a while back...i miss my mommy :(

14. What color are your eyes? piercing black

15. What time did you wake up today? 7.15 am

16. What are you wearing right now? black pants and a light blue blouse

17. What is your favorite Christmas song? deck the halls...

18. Where is your favorite place to be? home - and parthi

19. Where is your least favorite place to be? funerals

20. Where would you go if you could go anywhere? new york, cambodia, venice

21. Where do you think you'll be in 10 years? i have no idea

22. Do you tan or burn? errr...neither

23. What did you fear was going to get you at night as a child? nothing, im a heavy sleeper

24. What was the last thing that really made you laugh? a joke, but i cant remember who shared it, and even what joke it was!

25. How many TVs do you have in your house? 1

26. How big is your bed? queen size 

27. Do you have a laptop or desktop computer? laptop

28. Do you sleep with or without clothes on? with, duh!

29. What color are your sheets? some mixed retro pattern

30. How many pillows do you sleep with? three pillows and one bolster

31. What is your favorite season? u dont get much 'seasons' where i live

32. What do you like about fall? never seen/felt it

33. What do you like about winter? snow

34. What do you like about the summer? its bright and cheery 

35. What do you like about spring? colours!

36. How many states/provinces have you lived in? cant quite figure it out

37. What cities/towns have you lived in? 5 i think

38. Do you prefer shoes, socks, or bare feet? bare feet

39. Are you a social person? i guess, kinda

40. What was the last thing you ate? choco-chex cereal

41. What is your favorite restaurant? no particular one - im a foodie!

42. What is your favorite ice cream? none in specific

43. What is your favorite dessert? chocolate fondue

44. What is your favorite kind of soup? creamy tomato with loads of croutons

45. What kind of jelly do you like on your PB & J sandwich? i prefer nutella to pb & j

46. Do you like Chinese food? depends on how its made

47. Do you like coffee? oh yeah

48. How many glasses of water, a day, do you drink on average? dont noe, i drink from a bottle

49. What do you drink in the morning? coffee or milo

51. Do you sleep on a certain side of the bed? smack centre

52. Do you know how to play poker? nope

53. Do you like to cuddle? of curse

54. Have you ever been to America? yep

55. Do you have an addictive personality? errr...thats for people to say

56. Do you eat out or at home more often? try to eat at home more

58. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you? two people, one person passed on some years back

59. Do you want kids? sure

60. Do you speak any other languages? yep

61. Have you ever gotten stitches? yep

62. Have you ever ridden in an ambulance? nope

63. Do you prefer an ocean or a pool? both

64. Do you prefer a window seat or an aisle seat? window, although its a pain getting out and back

65. Do you know how to drive stick? whats stick?

66. What is your favorite thing to spend money on? clothes, bags, shoes

67. Do you wear any jewelry 24/7? nope

68. What is your favorite TV show? grey's anatomy

69. Can you roll your tongue? nah

70. Who is the funniest person you know? couple of people

72. What is the main ring tone on your phone? some ringtone from the phone

73. Do you still have clothes from when you were little? nope

74. What red object is closest to you right now? a box lid

75. Do you turn off the water while you brush your teeth? yes, save the earth

76. Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed? closed

77. Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of bees? neither!

79. What do you dip a chicken nugget in? dont eat chiken no more

80. What is your favorite food? hmmm...like lotsa things, hard to say - i told ya im a foodie!

81. Can you change the oil on a car? nope

82. Have you ever gotten a speeding ticket? i dont drive

83. Have you ever run out of gas? as above

84. What is your usual bedtime? about 11, since i started working

85. What was the last book you read? a book on patience - and how everyone wants it, like NOW!

86. Do you read the newspaper? havent got the papers in a while

87. Do you have any magazine subscriptions? Nope

89. Do you watch soap operas? nah

90. Do you dance in the car? haha nope

91. What radio station did you last listen to? havent listended to radio in a while

92. Who is in the picture frame closest to you? There aint no pictures near me!

93. What was the last note you scribbled on a piece of paper? questions to ask my boss

94. What is your favorite candle scent? vanilla

95. What is your favorite board game? monopoly

97. When was the last time you attended Sunday School? end of april, i teach in one

98. Who was your favorite teacher in high school? a biology teacher - she was amazing

99. What is the longest you have ever camped out in a tent? 2 days - and that was way back!!

100. Who was the last person to do something extra special for you? My daddy and mummy, they sent me a ipod with engraved wishes for my bday

toilet paper woes

not many people seem to realize how important even the simplest of things can make a workplace just 'that much more' comfortable - down to the toilet paper. 

i kid you not! until just two days ago, the toilet paper used in my office toilet could have easily sandpapered a wooden table for the final finish - imagine using it in the place...errr...where we use toilet paper! c'est terrible. i remember cringing while using it one day, and sending up a silent prayer to the heavens above - and voila! for once, it was actually heard! now we have nice, soft paper in its place, and i only pray some crazy greek god is not going to reverse my fortunes anytime soon (just for a laugh, or even worse, as a bet).

but coming back to the real issue at hand here - why don't more people in companies make that teensy extra effort to ensure their staff are well looked after? i mean, why is it not everyone offers a nice coffee maker with ground coffee powder, the loaded pantry, the beautiful spacious cubicles, the two-hour friday lunches, yada yada. i say "not everyone" because i have worked for some amazing companies that do provide such stuff, and some even more amazing bosses who tried to ensure the maximum welfare of their employees. I must have chalked up a lot of bad-employee-karma in my previous lives, that i didn't manage to stay put in any of those situations. 

*sigh* but i shall hold back from complaining, for i remember a life not too long ago (just about two weeks back actually) when a lot more was taken from me. and just in case zeus is waiting to hear a complaint just so he strike me with his thunderbolt - *BIG GRIN*