Thursday, December 29, 2011

Suffering the consequences of hedonism

I indulged in a tad too much happy over the festive season. Started the week on whites accompanied with a gorgeous cheese platter which carried through to several kinds of red, JD's Black Label, Frangelico, Absolut Vodka and Bailey's to name a few, ingested mixed, mulled, neat, on rocks and in pasta. Played 2 rounds of Scrabble over tea and more wine.

As expected, the rashes are now coming out to play.

Monday, December 26, 2011


Escapism is not always bad. It is neither always cowardice nor always fear that initiates the mode of flight over fight. Truly, serendipity and madness follow hand-in-hand in the pursuit of escape in such a way as to reap much unplanned benefit from propelling one's self uninhibited to execute impulsive thought otherwise unimaginable, or even if not unimaginable, previously unimportant or inconsequential to one's sense of achievement.

I quite like escapism. It has sent me across the world and then some, inundating my soul with (some might say) useless philosophy which though conceptualised and understood, plays little part in the reality of my life. My life is at best, disjuncted; a series of accidents that stumble unprepared into the next phase and the only thing keeping the momentum going (besides God and many would say in spite of) is adrenaline fueled by wanting to discover what lies over the horizon. Though experience tells me each horizon reveals a hue closer to tangible reality than fancy or fantasy and though with each passing horizon, my mind becomes more disillusioned, there is still an urgency to press on at cost to myself for the present is expectantly marked by foreboding uncertainty, sending ears twitching nervously and feet itching to flee.

You will find no leaping, graceful, sure-footed gazelle here, only a curiousity, appearing saturated to some and void to another, seeking to satiate mindlust.

Friday, December 23, 2011

Prepping the Crimson Cow

The festive marathon has just about started and already I have red wine spilled on printed chiffon. "Go with the flow" seems to be the motto of the season but a suitcase of unsatisfied Christmasses counters heavy against the urge to move forward. Presents bought and sealed appear a wasted effort and detachment is its weight in gold. Appropriation is both sought and deflected, wishful yet rejected.

Occasionally, the internal organ pipes up and jaunty steps signal possible regrowth and positive action.

Christmas is perfect for spending the long weekend wallowing in utter misery, with enough ammo to make Ebenezer feel like a wet hen left out in the cold.

Happiness in all its forms is gloriously addictive, so much so that the worst things are committed in pursuit of the illusion.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011


I'm sad that my Zoloft is going to be neutered tonight :'( Could drown my sorrows in chocolate.

Christmas Day plans

My parents have planned to open house. Being the ever-dutiful daughter that I am, I will help see to it that their plans come to fruition. This has so far included setting up the Christmas tree with generous amounts of "snow" which will nonchalantly float into cups of orange squash reminding people of the wrong reason for Christmas ala Sinter Klaus.

Ideally, my Christmas would look a little different. A game of Scrabble over Cadbury Light's Peppermint Hot Chocolate, wearing fuzzy socks, sitting in an air-conditioned room, listening to Linkin Park or Lite fm... something to that effect.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Psycho what?

Editor's note: An additional essay in brief on INTPs here

Took up the Myers-Briggs test again this year for the fun of it. The last time I put myself through the paces was recorded here.

There has been no change from the last instance and my equilibrium is somewhat buoyant at INTP. It has become less incredulous that a different vowel precedes my intuition (N) these days and I wear my absentminded perception (P) with a pride which my proverbial poker-in-arse Judging (J) persona would have dismissed as lazy. Having said that, remnants of the J must still be around, lingering somewhere on my person as there have been times when I've had to remove the said poker to accommodate characters I would have otherwise point-blank refused to talk to.

To find out if your lifestyle is killing you your personality, you can risk your hand here.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Once again

The worst of the emo-ness is over for now. As I knew it would be. As it has always been. As it will be to come. But it still sucks having to ride it out even though positive, affirmative lessons are also always learnt. A love-hate relationship with myself.

Oh, and accidentally bought CHERRY flavoured Diet Coke. Disgusting.

Looking forward to karaoke.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Two cents worth of Sensitivity and Sensibility

Yes, mine to give
Yet I will grieve
For having trusted
Too soon too true

Mine to withhold
Yet truth be told
I would rather readily
Give it to you

Mine to provide
Yet kept on the side
Not wanting but wanting
To see if you too

Compassion abounds
You do wear that crown
Too many around
And not just us two

So goodbye my lover
Goodbye my friend
Goodbye to an ending
That never began

Farewell my brother
Godspeed again
A deep breath in the winter
Find a safe place to land

Not my time

It is taking too long
And yet not time yet
Not much more now
Still a good way yet
Same old story
Different faces
Same old pain
Different spaces
Never changing
Always wishing
Only dreams
Pushing through
Forcing boundaries
Facing paths
Forging means
Tumble, fall
Bruised and small
Rage, unrest
Why give my best?

Because though it may seem foolish
Though it may look untrue
Though the world may laugh and scorn
As they did at you
Not that life is perfect
Nor that it'll ever be
Not that dreams uncovered
Will fulfill my destiny
Not that hope, forgiveness
Will satisfy my soul
Nor that giving everything
Will dry the tears that fall 
Not that I am the centre
Of any worth at all
Not that I understand
Or even comprehend
But because you have so giveth
It's not longer I that liveth

The mess and the mire
The deeds burned in fire
The judgment call will sound
That despite my weakness 
I may be found

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Kisses for you

Found at
Kisses for you
Kisses for me
Kisses that rain down
From the sycamore tree

Kisses for him 
Kisses for her
Under the mistletoe
In drunken stupor

Kisses for them
Kisses for us
Flirty and light
Dark, dangerous

Kisses for all
Kisses for none
A kiss to betray
Unravel, undone

Kisses for you
Kisses for me
At Golgotha's Hill
From Calvary's Tree

Bah Humbug

Humbug: A slavish concern for the composition of words is the sign of a bankrupt intellect. Be gone, odious wasp! You smell of decayed syllables. (The Phantom Tollbooth)

But I really do like obsessing over mixing-and-matching long words!

Friday, December 09, 2011

That time again

Christmas wishlist for the year includes:-

1) Wellies (Damien Hirst inspired)
2) The Duck that Won the Lottery (Julian Baggini)
3) More horse figurines
4) Goo Goo Dolls CD (Dizzy Up the Girl)
5) Vladimir Kush works
6) Blueberry frozen yoghurt
7) A Westin Heavenly bed
8) Massage (kinks in right shoulder blade)
9) A Kenwood food processor-mixer
10) Anything Molten Brown
11) A Celtic/Tribal-inspired horse design for my right shoulder blade

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Importance of being earnest

I was about 11 or 12 when I first laid eyes on it. Mum was browsing through the furniture store for a greyscale cabinet and all I could think of was the sculptured horse of transluscent rock but RM700 was a hefty pricetag for an 11-year old. These days I wander round looking for something that might bring back that once-in-a-lifetime stir but though I have seen and added equine pieces to my collection, none have satisfied the way a memory could.

There was a yellow, detached house with hexagon-shaped windows in Hui Sing which I've hankered after since I was 9. When I recall it, I not only remember the double-storey windows and indoor balcony, but also mandarin classes with Mrs Foo and being told that to prepare for a wedding takes a year (a horrifyingly long period of time to a 9-year old).

That's the problem isn't it? For how can anything or anyone compete with a memory? The deceased wife, the loved-and-lost significant other, the smell of flapjacks on a winter's day.

There are many memories I have created by will; the hanging up of a Christmas sock, drinking hot chocolate on a mountain side, sipping tea lounging in a chair, curling up in a remote cafe with a good book but often the memory doesn't feel like what it looks like.

I guess one just has to keep on creating memories in the hope that one day it will feel like what it looks like in my head.

An Un-Day

Feeling totally emo and snappy and sulky and bla bla bla. Going to wallop a box of chocolates if I can get my hands on one and smear my insides with chocolate until my arteries clog. Feeling Un-Chrismassy, Un-Motivated, Un-Coherent (I am NOT incoherent; just feeling UN). Saying things I don't mean and meaning things I don't say. My mind is going to explode. I need a happy pill. Just want to sleep. When I wake up life won't suck less but sleep will at least trick me into feeling that it doesn't suck more. Unless I get cabin fever. Stupid happy-clappy American song is playing on air. People who are THAT carefree are the serious psychos; not me. I'm normal.

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Shrek talk

An ogre, like an onion, has layers (apparently).

Supposedly a defence against bad-breath and a lousy disposition, what the ogre does not say is this; that it is not the self-rightous beholder in his pathetic tentative steps, a decaying olive branch extended and nose wrinkled, who has made the larger sacrifice, but the beheld ogre himself as he stands, dermis stripped and bleeding, facing those who would pass judgment.

Monday, November 21, 2011

India take 1

India = Taj Mahal; curry and Slumdog Millionaire.

me: Hey you've been to Delhi right? I'll be going over. Anything good to eat/see?

Abby: Uhmm. Food- all the naans, and the cheeses

me: Indian cheese?

Abby: You doing the golden triangle? ie Delhi, Agra, Jaipur?

me: Didn't know India was famous for cheese. (re golden triangle) Yes! I believe so and 2 more places

Abby: Like the palak paneer?

me: What's that?

Abby: You know.. spinach with cheese. You need to read up on Northern Indian food

me: That's kind of Northern. I thought Delhi was southern...

Abby: OMG! First, go look at a map of INDIA

Tuesday, October 25, 2011


Cookies are distracting.
Gossip is distracting.
Chocolate is distracting.
Food is distracting.
Hunger is distracting.
Headaches are distracting.
Hearing someone call your name is distracting.
Shopping is a very focussed distraction.
Trains of thought are distracting.
The smell of chicken rice is distracting.
Problems are distracting.
Anticipation is distracting.
The need to pee is distracting.
Thinking is distracting.
Mosquitoe bites. are. DISTRACTING.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Rasa sayang

“The film Nasi Lemak 2.0 has been viewed with prejudice because the producer (Namewee) had sparked a controversy before,” Finas director-general Mohd Naguib Razak said in a press statement. ~ The Star Online

OMG, I mean forget about it being a true-and-so-damn-funny representation of culture and food and everything we Malaysians love, the only thing those whats-its can allude to is that Namawee and Nasi Lemak is like totally seditious right? The day Mohd Naguib Razak sings Negaraku with as much passion as Namawee and is not ashamed for people to judge him on it, I'll give his opinion some credit.

The peppering of eye-rolling innuendo aside, it was a great watch, bursting in flavour both brash and subtle. Nasi Lemak 2.0 brought together so many elements of stereotypical Malaysian life, combined in a satirical package wrapped with tongue-in-cheek ribbon from the morning tai chi sessions in the park to reviving TV1's Baba Nyonya power "couple" (R.I.P Chee) to Chinese ghosts, Indian dancing, hawker stalls, the 4-wife club, Chinese sifus and family feuds and my personal favourite, defunct Proton power windows and door handles.

I'm sure we all have our personal Kak Noor. Mine's at the Asia Jaya LRT :)

(I forgive Namawee for not including East Malaysia's traditional tribes in Nasi Lemak 2.0 but maybe he can make a sequel called Borneo 0.5 if Pek Moh will let him...)

Sunday, October 09, 2011

Taking the midnight train

It was one of those I-am-going-to-spend-some-time-with-me moments. Having had a Starbucks mushroom struddel and creme brulee macchiato with a window view I took to exploring this town at midnight.

Satok market was still bustling as I turned the corner from Keretapi. I was tempted to stop by to look for dabai but it never stops at one. If I had pulled over, my stomach would certainly have returned home carrying memories of kuih lapis, lekor, ayam panggang, deep fried gizzard, bishop's nose and liver, apam balik, satay, kuih batik AND dabai if I could find any. Crispy fish and lush chips with tangy onion dripping wrapped in a paper bag in the middle of winter would be the London equivalent.

Heading across the Satok bridge I remember that there used to be a pedestrian bridge running parallel to the tarred road but no longer. There also used to be an arena where a round of tibow awaited those game enough to try but these days we hear more of Rempit than Rentap.

As I drove through Petra Jaya I wondered if the old trees that lined the road, providing shade in the day and fancy at night, made even more romantic by lit up spotlights of orange and white and green would soon disappear as their Airport Road counterparts did under the axe and tractor. What are we willing to risk losing in the name of progress? What dare we hold on to in order to step forward?

Passing by the State library I remember the night when Wizard of Oz played on an outdoor screen under the stars; 1Sarawak sitting on a carpet of mozaic with vendors selling burgers and buttered sweetcorn on the side. I remember being grateful that the essence of community is still alive.

Perhaps it is down to poor memory but I don't recall seeing KL roads lit up with emblems the way Kuching does it. Bulbs of red, green and yellow line the streets taking forms of hibiscuses, Iban shields, a hunter with a blowpipe, Diwali lamps, crescents, stars and ketupats. Should more trees be mown to make way for infrastructure, the varying images hanging just under the streetlamp's orange glow is a definite poignant way to acknowledge that just as trees grew where posts now stand, our community was not created by policy or mandate but is natural and alive, vibrant and growing.

It was definitely good to know that at midnight mamak shops near the Indian mosque in town were still open as was Open Air by Electra house. No talk of sio bee being too close to the nasi lemak there! The busy view across river from Gambier Street littered with shimmery bunga manggar around the Astana also told me that the nasi kerabu lady was still going strong. I have not quite been able to find pizza that I like as much as Tom's minced beef pizza which used to be by the playground at Waterfront. Pizza has not quite been the same experience since they closed down/moved. Down Abell Road both Raja Ayam and Shore were piping hot for business. A growl from below told me I hadn't had roti boom (yes "boom!") with chicken and cheese in a while.

The road home was otherwise uneventful although it is no secret that if Kuching roads carry on the way they do, we would have a smoother journey travelling by buffalo, horse or ostrich. I suppose you could say it was a good night.

Monday, October 03, 2011

How are you?

Loaded question
Default diction
But few really care
About rolling friction.

Fishing hook
Gossip brook
Small talk hoo ha
By the book.

Judge and stare
Think you've got flair?
I'll take you on
Tooth, claw, beware.

Time stands still
Questions fill
The sound of nothing
Nothing fulfilled.

Don't reap, don't sow
Hand off my paw
Walk by in the night
No need to caw.

"Oh, fine thank you!"
A lie to chew
Just tell me straight
Repaid in lieu.

Don't want to talk
Don't talk bout walk
Don't hum the hymn
It's 3 o'clock.

Not that I
Delight in fie
But rather out
Than in with lies.

Monday, September 19, 2011

The way things turn

Restricted outflow is a symptom that the influx of thought is creating an increasingly overwhelming vortex of jumbled emotion and attempted logic, held together by a flimsy mesh of fading self-control. Being a comfort eater, perhaps now is not a good time to clear the wardrobe of those XXLs...

Friday, September 02, 2011

Salt and pepper

Need a little salt,
To keep one grounded;
Ground a shake of pepper,
To make things spicey;
Spice a little nice,
To bring sensation;
Sense a little love,
In cooking whoredom.

Thursday, August 25, 2011

Embracing Larry (the cucumber ie vegetable)

If you want to continue eating meat do not look at the PETA website. But since I did, and opened Pandora's box, I've been considering if vegetarianism is something I can pursue. Do I think it is wrong to eat animals? No. Neither from an ethical nor from a religious (and definitely not cultural) point of view. I don't think it is wrong to enjoy a bacon butty or cured ham or turkey pie even if it is proven that my Dijon mustard hot dog has a higher Intellectual Quotient than my pet dog (which isn't be hard to believe). I don't think if it were a sin to kill animals, that God would've said to Noah or the Israelites for that matter, "You may eat... etc." I mean God said to burn the fatty parts of the animals as a burnt offering to Him and boy did He choose the best parts. The most fragrant. I mean really, only God can enjoy fat at every meal and not suffer from high cholesterol and gout.

So if eating meat nor acquiring it by killing the animal per se is not hampering my appetite, what is? My conscience is troubled at the way in which these animals, my food, is raised, is cared for, looked after and protected. I am concerned about their circumstance and welfare prior to becoming a lovely mess of goodness on my plate. Ironically (hypocritcally?) though, short of being skewered with roasted pumpkin and baby onions and chargrilled with butter and lemongrass.

I see pictures of hens in battery cages and see the effects of poultry being injected with hormone boosters to speed growth and production. I see fish squirming on top of each other in stagnant pools. I see the "hands" of crabs being tied and whilst still tied, plunged into boiling hot salted water just so that I can enjoy my butter-oat crab. Somehow, that image doesn't sit right with me. As much as the succulent juicy pieces of good-for-me protein lure with their scent and taste, there is a small part of me that wonders if the animal had been taken care of before it died.

At first I thought of joining the ethical omnivorism clan whereby I would only eat meat products that I knew came from reliable sources; whether wild, well-pastured or free range. Products of deep sea fishing, deer, pigeon, wild rabbits or boars would therefore not pose an issue. Nor would there be an issue (to me) if the birds were allowed to roam, roost naturally and dust bathe. To some vegans, this is hypocrisy as they feel the animal should not be harmed, at all, at any cost. So the fact that I'm saying it's ok to kill the animal is to them a travestry of 'ethics." Then again, ethics is subjective, so what is my ethical preference whilst not yours cannot be deemed wrong unless you have an objective plumbline by which to run it by. In addition, some vegetarians then revert to meat when they fall pregnant for example because they feel "it was right for my body at that point in time to eat meat." Surely that makes them equally hypocritical and more so, it highlights the fact that when push comes to shove, we will put ourselves first at any cost, at all cost.

I'm trying to imagine my life without hoisin duck and three-layered pork and fish and chips... butter prawn, deep fried salted egg squid... kolo mee... and boy, it's hard. Gut wrenchingly so. Literally. My hungry stomach is making noises. Just thinking about kampua mee and not enjoying ngo hiang or bak kut teh or kueh chap anymore is enough to send me into a sugar deprived spiral. Goodbye pepperoni...

But... you might say... if you're still willing to eat meat, it won't mean that you can't have any of this anymore right? That is right... but do you know any ethical farmers around who will kill their half-tonne cow to sell me a 200g slab?

I haven't quite decided to become vegetarian yet but over the years I have come to realize it doesn't mean eating rabbit food or just salad which I thought was what vegetarians lived on; different salads every day; Caesar, Waldorf, Greek. Instead of talking about beef wellington and plum sauce duck for example, I could start talking about stuffed pepper bells with cous cous, spinach and sun dried tomatoes. I could talk about leek and haloumi with brown rice. Or pitta bread stuffed with quorn, spice and greek yoghurt. I can still enjoy pesto. Instead of duck and cherry sausages or Cumberlands, I could have black bean sausages with mashed chick peas. I can still have terung Dayak and terung pipit and nasi kerabu (without the meat). I can still enjoy ulam, buttered sweetcorn and bamboo shoots. I can definitely still have waffles, tau sar pau and egg tarts. French beans or mallow with egg? No problem. I could go on about olive pate, cheese and onion quiche, ricotta pizzas and brocolli with cashew and I can still polish off a whole pack of garlic boursin with water crackers. I can still have french fries.

Life may not be so bad as a vegetarian...

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Live and let be

If bad things hit you like a storm,
Just holler back; don't let it drag.

If people just do not play fair,
Just lift your head and say "Who cares?"

If heads all roll in sink and swim,
Put on a tank and dive right in.

If matters look as bleak as grey,
Just shrug cos it'll pass anyway.

If people just give you the creeps,
Hesitate not; press auto-delete.

If life is sour and above you tower,
Just let it blast and raise that finger.

If life is great then do not gloat,
Next round you'll be in the moat.

If you think I am dissing you
You may be right and "Fuck you too."

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Cave exploration

Caved in and got a Fujitsu laptop. Goodbye Acer. Didn't even name it and getting emotional. Have never been an Apple person and not gonna start now even if they have this to-die-for Bookbook case. But practicality trumps fashion although Louboutin will disagree and I think Apple has too many software applications which aren't available/ compatible and techno and time aren't exactly my best friends.

Caved in and bought a dress at Hills. I keep saying I won't go shopping. I might as well say I'll stop breathing. Mum bought some nice grey-blue patterned cloth and asked if I wanted to make a dress out of it. Already I mentally match a not-even-there-yet-dress with light blue Heatwave wedges. Which means I need a spangly silver cardy to match. Bad.

Caved in and got a Twiiter account. See previous post.

Caved in and spent 15 bucks trying to win a 2-inch wide angry bird worth a dollar fifty. So says Lid. It's now hanging on my rearview mirror. For someone who doesn't care for birds, am getting quite attached to it.

Caved in on Weds night and had pizza.........................

Damn you self-control! The plight of those inflicted with Dionysian madness.

Friday, August 19, 2011

I am a twit :(

Dictionary: Idiot; mentally deficient or self-defeating person

@abalonedeb says: That's not a very nice thing to say.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Seeing in part

Reading upside down on bed one night, my attention was somehow directed to a "blotch" somwhere above the cabinet on my apple green bedroom wall. Curiously, I stared at the blotch which looked more and more to me like a woman's face (not kidding!). I even viewed it from different angles and from different distances thinking there was no way this face had suddenly appeared without me realizing it. While Logic was trying to keep a grip, Imagination was running through my mind namely:-

1) Was it a ghost in the wall?
2) Was it a reflection of a ghost in the wall?
3) Did someone die on that plot of land we built our house on?
4) Was someone buried in the ground directly under my bed (I sleep on the ground floor)?
5) Was it a sign?
6) Did the ghost want me to find her?
7) This is like something out of BONES...
8) Where is Seeley Booth when you need him?

I even started taking pictures of the blotch and through the camera lens, it still looked like a woman's face, complete with the shadow that falls across one's cheek when you have a particularly nice nose. Considering that the wall was immediately before my bed, I did not like the feeling of someone watching me as I slept which led me to other mad ideas:-

1) Was the ghost angry at me?
2) Did I do something wrong?
3) Was it really a water ghost I heard the other night?
4) Is there something under my bed?

By then I had whether rightly or wrongly, persuaded myself that there was something definitely fishy about this blotch in my wall. This strange woman's face must tell a story of some sort. Maybe she was a resident ghost and pointed to a brutal murder of some kind (overload of Midsummer Murders). In half panic, half excitement, I reached for my glasses and....

Where was she?

As if by magic, the blotch on the wall disappeared (or appeared) into what it really was: a blotch on the wall.

I was comforted somewhat and not simply by the fact that I no longer housed a resident ghost. In the greater picture of angels and demons, especially given that this month belongs to Hungry Ghost in the Lunar Calender where traditional Chinese and Buddhists venerate the dead to protect themselves from harm, I am reminded that the lifeline thrown by frantic offerings, chants, charms and stricken appeasements is all but an illusion, a blotch, the importance of which will fade away as smoke from joss sticks once the glasses are put on and focus redirected.

Friday, August 05, 2011

Harap maklum

Menemui sahabatku sekalian yang memahami teks ini yang tidak jauh dari peringatan,

Mengikuti pengumuman JAKIM bahawa mentega Golden Churn telahpun diharamkan antara saudara-saudari muslimin-muslimat kerana dikatakan mengandungi DNA babi, dengan hati yang berat sekali, terpaksalah juga aku mendedahkan bahawa pada malam ini, hasil akibat menikmati sepinggan kueh chap yang enak sekali, DNA babi semestinya telah menular rangkai tubuh ini dan oleh itu, mungkin tidak baiklah, jika kalian menyentuh, bersalam atau memeluk diriku ini. Biarlah tubuhni luput dari perhubungan dan pupus dari peringatan!

(Maaf jika terlalu dramatis; memang susah untuk aku mengerti apalagi menerima bahawa Zaman Keemasan kek lapis Sarawak mungkin telahpun lalu dengan kemangkatan Golden Churn di kalangan rakyat Melayu. Walau bagaimanapun, aku dengan sesungguhnya percaya bahawa kemahiran menghasilkan kek lapis akan terus melangkah depan, samada Golden Churn ada ataupun tidak.)

Semoga Tuhan memberkati kita semua.

Sekian dimaklumkan.

Thursday, August 04, 2011

Full service

Right now I'm thinking of:-

Cheese platter
Doesn't matter what cheese as long as there's boursin and stilton. Serve with water biscuits.

Warm creamy pumpkin-parsley soup with toasted mushroom-garlic bread.

White tuna lightly pan fried with new potatoes tossed in chunky black pepper and cracked sea salt. Serve with a salad of asparagus, rocket and semi-ripe papaya and drizzled with balsamic


A mixture of firm scallops, crabmeat and large, juicy shelled tiger prawns cooked into a chunky seafood sauce. Serve in a puff pastry basket with spinach and guava .

Wagyu steak minimally drizzled in red wine sauce. Serve with cherry tomatoes and mashed sweet potato and parsnip.

Chocolate raspberry torte


Praline ice cream in chocolate trellis

With amaretto


Wednesday, August 03, 2011

Piping a tune

The Pied Piper of Hamelin we all know full well
The yellow gold and crimson tail
The merry tune he calls out sweet
Makes feet-a-dancing to the beat.

Drowning the rodents that fed on the brie,
The townsfolk turned rotten and kept the money,
Very angry did the Pied Piper get
When they drumed him out of town, he turned round and said,

"Though the piper may pipe any tune that he may,
what worth will it have, if no one will pay?
Though the pipe may sing from dawn til dusk,
only a coin in the hat will prove the fuss.
Indeed, he who pays the piper may call out any tune
And the piper will oblige in a twinkle, none too soon."

The people refused, they did not hear
They did not care and they did not fear
They drank and were carefree, until came a time
When music was heard and then something absurd.

History is farce when it calls again
But now it was tragedy though they stop it in vain
The apples of eyes and pleasures of heart
All took off like mice, some singing, some run,
All under disguise, all blinded by one
Who stood at the helm
Decked in blood and the sun.

Monday, August 01, 2011

A day off work

Heard this on the radio a couple of weeks ago and recently found it online at AhaJokes. Makes one wonder why more people are not skipping to work.

"So you want a day off. Let's take a look at what you are asking for. There are 365 days per year available for work. There are 52 weeks per year in which you already have 2 days off per week, leaving 261 days available for work. Since you spend 16 hours each day away fron work, you have used up 170 days, leaving only 91 days available. You spend 30 minutes each day on coffee break which counts for 23 days each year, leaving only 68 days available. With a 1 hour lunch each day, you used up another 46 days, leaving only 22 days available for work. You normally spend 2 days per year on sick leave. This leaves you only 20 days per year available for work. We are off 5 holidays per year, so your available working time is down to 15 days. We generously give 14 days vacation per year which leaves only 1 day available for work and I'll be darned if you are going to take that day off!"

Not such an emo day

It sits and eats a crumb in hand,
In hand, in paw a morsel to gnaw,
To gnaw, to chew, the raspberry hue,
The colour red popping as all jam tarts do. *Licks lips*

It sits and grins a smile like Cheddar,
Cheddar, or better! Pudding bread and butter,
Oh butter! Oh dream! Oh sink in sweet cream,
How ever could dairy be evil or mean? *Grin*

It sits and twitches, its whiskers unfurled,
Unfurled, unwound, release most profound,
Profound, and wondrous, until so immersed;
The taste of Cadbury; it can't be a curse!! *Dibbledy-dribbledy*

It sits and stares, with wild eye despair,
Despair, and crazed, a wantonnish haze,
Haze and slur, the food starts to blur,
Involuntary ripples runs right through its fur. Brrrr....

Oh food, oh man, oh one of the same,
The same they are, delightful by far,
So far, so near, so timeless, so dear,
That one may relish while the other may fear. Yum yum.

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Google doodle

Will they let me in on this?

Monday, July 25, 2011

Now, really?

Context: Sex tape video which Anwar was not in (and I am still pointlessly waiting for some Court/Imam to bash the threesome for lying in Court/Mosque).

Source of funny comment of the day: The Star Online

Funny comment of the day: Hishammuddin, in his reply, said that Anwar had ill intentions in uttering malicious words which were later widely reported in the media and the Internet. He said the words were not published in good faith and that the main motive of Anwar was to injure his reputation as a minister and politician.

Why it is funny: Frankly, the dude ruined his own rep

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Back to the drawing board

Creativity in perspective; what may turn out to be a billion dollar idea could very well start off a mere copycat of art imitating life imitating art. We humans never get enough because we can never get enough of ourselves. The sad irony of creative prowess is that it never truly springs from within even though Donald Trump may have you believe so; it may manipulate what is already in the subconscious, it may repackage an old idea or rename a forgotten tradition. Despondency may hardly be a trait associated with creativity, but the brightest minds were often littered with the sugar rush of crack and insanity.

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Pottering around

LP detoured in her epic Asian adventure so that we could cuti-cuti Malaysia so it was only right that I flew over to give her the Tour de KL; it may appear in hindsight that in addition to showcasing the capital, I threw in a few experiences to boot; watching Harry Potter on the big screen being the last of many firsts, the list of which included going up the KL tower, going up the Malacca tower and indulging in a pushing boundaries relationship with my gut in the Berjaya Times Square Theme Park.

There is a certain morbid relief that rises as one is put totally out of control. Screaming aside, the brief time out so far has left me with more questions than answers, more puzzles than solutions, more disillusionment than focus. There are days when I am certain I am close to having a mental breakdown and others when I chide myself for secretly wanting to go down that road. There are days when getting out of bed is the hardest thing to do and yet at the risk of having people once again say that it is mere self-pity or that I have to take control of my emotions, responsibility grabs me by the scruff of the neck and slaps me into assumed normality. There are days when I am convinced I cannot be the only one who feels this way and others when I scorn at my disposition to feel that this battle is one which can only be faced alone.

Who is to say what is right or wrong when the mind is so wrapped up in doubt and warped in oppressed agitation that the only certainty is that tomorrow may be no better than today and that we are to live in spite of the same? People look in from the outside and wonder why I am the way I am; I wonder how I can live with myself. People try tell me I need help but none is actually offered and every breath to try escape feels like a choke to the throat. People say they don't understand but how can I say that everything you want me to be is everything I hate? I say that I don't give two hoots but maybe that's a lie for if I actually stopped caring I might not have to drag this guilt around.

I rage against others but to no more extent than the fury I bury myself into. The shadow of burnt bridges simply reflects the self-destruction that has already happened. And yet against all this I struggle for on occasion I see the horizon and sometimes there is a tunnel in the surf. I strive to tear up the restrictions that perhaps I have put upon myself. The desire to forget limitations beckons every day and urges me to break out of the chute even though the bull may smash my face into a pulp. That living the 2 seconds in the air before crumbling is worth more than spending seasons in the spectator's seat. I may not say everything you want me to say but how can I speak when everything I want you call it foolish. There are days when the resentment build-up forces reactions and lashing-outs I know is wrong and yet the moral compass seems to be indifferent to the wake and imprints I leave behind.

In all this hubristic resentment, that God is angry with me has never been far from my mind. Why wouldn't He be? My puny efforts for betterment are pathetic and would I that He crushed me with His fist than live another moment in mediocratic limbo. In the mounting anger against myself, maybe I am challenging Him, a challenge that He may do well to forget me and let me be done with once and for all. Yet in the midst of seeing life displaced and discarded into irreconciliable pieces, He reminds me that He is not angry and that despite my folly, I am owned though I may not know that I want to be, though I may never know what it means. That like a gut-wrenching roller-coaster, it is only when I am turned inside out and upside down that I know I am secure because He has secured.

Your blood has washed away my sin
Jesus, thank You
The Father’s wrath completely satisfied
Jesus, thank You
Once Your enemy, now seated at Your table
Jesus, thank You
~ Sovereign Grace Music; Worship God Live; Jesus Thank You

As another author put it; I write to express and not to impress.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Putting the arse in sparse

The headline of Malaysia Encourages More People To Become English Teachers runs foul of reality when we hear that fully qualified English speaking, English teaching locals are being bypassed for "native speakers" paid 6 times more with a red carpet thrown in. Despite The Star's efforts to try educate the masses with fancy idioms and terminology, our Ministers (or is it just the one?) have obviously found themselves confused by the difference between "Native English" with "Native English speaker." Nationality can by no means determine one's fluency. There are Caucasians who speak better Mandarin than I do and by the same token, Malaysians who speak better English than Australians. An aquiline, roman nose, blue eyes and golden curls ala McDonald's curly fries do not language proficiency make but then again our Government's logic has always aimed to baffle. By the way, for all intents and purposes, I am a native English speaker. To try prove otherwise would fall into the same debate as creation science.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Turning tables

ASSUMING what reports is accurate, then a glimmer of hope shines through for UMNO following Khairy Jamaluddin's call for the police to 'fess up. His motives may be questioned left, right and centre, may lack creativity and maybe those in real seats of power will dismiss it as an insignificant "say-for-the-sake-of-saying" incident but at least it shows that people in UMNO can say SOMETHING not completely flabbergasting to normal ears. Read here.

On the other hand, PKR Sarawak just seems to be hopping on the Bersih bandwagon, See Chee How even going so far as to say that we should wear yellow every Saturday until reforms are met. Ummm... no thanks. I also think Bersih "roadshows" is a mockery of what Bersih actually stands for, glamming up a public frustration to look like a political tool akin to commercialising the Rainforest Music Fest. Urban Sarawakians don't need to take to the streets; we will when the ocassion calls for it but we don't need to. We don't thrive on conflict. We don't fling babies out with the bathwater. We don't even (usually) honk when the car in front stops at a traffic light for over 10 seconds whereas in KL just 3 ticks might get you a thrashing. In fact we wonder if the driver has cramped his/her leg or empathize if the vehicle is old or if you're like me, sometimes wonder if the driver has suddenly died. Read article here.

In another article, I guess I'm not the only one who thinks Bersih could have been renamed a "hibiscus revolution." Naturally I would NEVER think that they took the name from my entry just because I posted first hehe. My entry dated July 9 made reference to the "bunga raya" (Malay for hibiscus, our national flower) and freemalaysia reference here. Just another note, in the article, Najib mentioned that he could get 1 million UMNO members to overthrow KL. China has 1 billion. Might be worth noting, if you ignore logistics since I'm not pendatang and all...

And saving the best on the Rally for last, here you can read how my good old chum Rais Yatim is blaming foreign media for "sensationalising" the Bersih rally when it was... say who?? ...who retracted his promise of a stadium where supporters could congregate, called for a virtual lockdown of Kuala Lumpur prior to the rally, who stationed police, water cannons and tear gas around tourist spots, who blocked access to shopping malls, halted economy (so it was the government who stopped people from spending that day and not Bersih, as our tourism minister Ng Yen Yen, who like me can't count, would have you believe) and then made himself scarce.

Rais also said that local media (under the control of Government) had correctly portrayed the event whereas local internet (not under the control of Government - sense a theme?) had not. The only thing he said which made sense and which I agree with was to caution people against Anwar's claims that we were nearing a revolution. Anwar has certainly made this claim too many times. I certainly don't think we are, because I mean c'mon, at heart we are 1Malaysia, aren't we or did Rais not receive the memo?

And by the way the same court that would have metted out the heaviest Government influenced deterrence-excused punishment on Anwar for THAT sex scandal video pinched the wrists of the real perpetrators (one of whom even swore on the Q'uran!!!!!) with a combined total of RM5,500 - that's (takes out calculator) RM1,833.33 each!!!!! [insert expletive] and our wonderful Attorney General is not going to appeal the sentence when he could have called for 3 years in custodial sentencing. So no jail time for perjury. For WASTING taxpayers' money by bringing a fake case to court. For draining resources when Idris Jala has said we're gonna go Bankrupt in 2018 and as a result oil and food prices have gone up.

The other thing that irks me is Malaysian politicians love of using religion to deflect their corruption. Does no one feels like swearing on the Q'uran is worth anything anymore? Where are the Fundamentalists now? Why is UMNO not chastising him for LYING on the Q'uran in PUBLIC??????????? Why am I, a non-Muslim, upset when I don't read or hear Imams or Ustazz or Hajis standing up and saying, "Hey this is wrong. You're misusing our Holy Book. You're blaspheming Allah by swearing lies on his name." Why has there been no undercurrent of anger against those who show contempt for their own god whom they try to propagate and institutionalize and yet when Ibrahim Ali opens his trap in the name of Islam you try justify his blatant and robust stupidity? You want an Islamic state, at least voice out like you believe in the good of it. At least voice out like you believe your god has been wronged.

Someone else with a much clearer head has said this about the whole joke. I agree with the writer in that now we have legal precedent to say that if I produce and promote a pornographic film in Malaysia, earn hundreds of thousands because of it and commit perjury to cover my ass,  the Court will only slap me with a RM1,833.33 fine and Parliament will want to screen my production.

The dearth of speeling

To those who sey spellling is an unessecary waste of time and that it has no place in this geograficly mobill, tekno-savey world, think again. Notwithstanding those who have real and aktual dificulties in reconising seqince of letters and who put the effort in to practice, praktise, practise, asumming that your really didnt give 2 hoots about proper speeling and considred it a truely teribble drakonian affair, hellbent on restricting freedum of expretion, if even you somehow managed to start up a coporation and needed to hyre competant staff, local or otherwise, wuld you realy antrust you're finanshial sheets, reports, marketing strategy, bizniz liasons and reputation, to sumone who spaylt like this? BBC tales me that online bizneses can lose milions in revenew due to poor spelling, a result of  too much "am i bovvered, teachur??".

Monday, July 11, 2011

Our Inspector General of Police Ismail Omar had this to say about the recent Bersih rally:-

"In our attempts to disperse the crowds, the protesters pulled back and started moving towards Stadium Merdeka. However, we managed to foil all attempts to go through our barricades, which were very well managed,” he said.

Malaysia Today further reports:-

Ismail said the protesters had tried to plough through police barricades, forcing his personnel to fire tear gas and their water cannons. However, he stressed that these were done “minimally.

Well managed? Minimal? As much as we may depend on them in the event war does break out over "Was it tear gas or wasn't it?" these are hardly words one can use to describe the Malaysian armed forces.

Reminiscing the eve of the Sarawak elections, I remembered SWAT like police fully armed bracing themselves for the crows that flooded Stutong. I remember them pushing their way throught the crowds to arrest a speaker for no good reason. I remember that no one in the crowd ambushed them or dragged them down even though they were outnumbered thousands to one. I remember because I was there. I remember because the police were so close that we were probably inhaling each other's oxygen.

The authorities have a way of making us look like hooligans and yet the duit kopi joke stems from their own cowardice and lack of morals. From their boss' reluctance to weed out the rotten apples. From lack of chiding. From poor enforcement. From failed integrity.

Just found this gilarious (gila-hilarious) site: Malaysians Say the Darndest Things.

Saturday, July 09, 2011

The reason for Chrome

[Apologies for the numerous spelling mistakes, a result of skimping on the practice of harnessing one's vocabulary to full effect

Further links to read about here and here and here

Another really good and comprehensive article, if you don't mind the legal jargon here]

I am wearing yellow today. That I'm wearing it on this auspicious day may not mean much in another country (except maybe Thailand) but today, the 9th of July 2011, in this amazing, totally radical and forward-looking country of Malaysia, wearing the colour yellow is tantamount to approving of or supporting the cause of the Bersih 2.0 (bersih is Malay for clean) rally against corruption particularly electoral reform which is often seen as riddled with bribery, dirty tactics and good old obstinance to appoint better leaders. It has also be stupidly declared illegal and an offence to wear yellow today which has absolutely no basis whatsoever. Maybe if faced by police, I'll just streak.

The colour or what it stands for has been so despised by the powers that be that according to Free Malaysia Today, 644 people as at 2pm local time have been arrested at Dataran Merdeka (Independence Square) and 91 people blacklisted from entering the Federal Territory. To be fair, among the 91 black listed, includes my all time favourite, the chavanist, sexist, xenophobe, Jabba the Hut look-a-like, Ibrahim Ali who famously opined that a wife is to blame for her husband's adultery, even using Islam to back his claim, arguing that a wife is expected to “drop whatever she is doing to please the husband’s (sexual) desire.” Even at this outrageous comment, our PM says nothing to publically admonish this [insert expletive times a thousand] and yet he goes all out to prove he still has balls when the people want more than just salt and rice. Am I angry? Damn right I am.

Frankly, yellow is the worst colour I can possibly wear as it clashes with my skin tone making me look more washed out that I can afford to. It would be a timely reminder to authorities on the rampage for a canary-clad scapegoat that yellow is not only the colour that represents this rally but is also the colour that represents our Royal Family and to reminisce the recent state elections, SUPP. I wonder what would happen if our Sultan decided he would quite like to wear his favourite golden songket today or if George Chan (George who?) decided to nostalgically wear his SUPP party tee to the market. It would appear that in chasing alleged culprits, some have forgotten to wipe the mustard off their own faces, leaving a trail of yolk for the spectator citizen to groan at, pulling faces worthy of lemon suckers.

I am not wearing yellow because I support Bersih. I am however, wearing the sun-kissed (I wish) colour in defiance of the shenanigans entered into by the government, police and whoever else in the run-up to the rally. The Bersih rally was not something I had interest in (at the moment, neither Government nor opposition has my vote as that dratted pothole on the way to work has yet to be fixed) however, our beloved Government (led by the wonderful non-sinkable PM)'s superb class act in handling the situation blows diplomacy right out of the amonia waste that leaves a stench in the foggy air.

Briefly, the rally was supposed to be held in various places in the city centre. Further to talks with the PM and Monarch, it was decided that the rally should be moved to a stadium (to avoid PM's buddies worrying if their investments are safe pending a Bunga Raya (or Allamanda, given the colour) revolution I suppose). Oh, by the way, the Bersih organisation was also branded illegal. Maybe we're seen as terrorists in which case, you can be sure which crowd our government will willingly negotiate with. No sooner does Bersih agree to move to a stadium, suddenly all major stadiums within easy distance have something going on be it an impromptu concert or renovation works. A venue in Shah Alam was suggested but having a rally that far away would deny it the impact it seek whilst the Cabinet wonders which second-hand multi-billion toy it should buy next. Today, the venue having been chosen [the venue being the streets since the PM retracted his promise], people are being sprayed with tear gas and water canons for standing up to an ideology they believe in. In addition people are being arrested with no proper charge other than being a threat to national security. What an excellent reason not to come into work on Monday morning.

I do not know exactly the measures and mode taken by Bersih and so cannot condone or rebuke it but what I do is that everytime our cabinet opens their collective mouth, all I hear is noise, lies and arrogance tinged with the panic-stricken realization that hit those who live in darkness; thieves trying to hoarde as much for their old age, to fund their diamond encrusted Tenna diapers before the walls come tumbling down.

This is why today, I wear yellow.

You can read an account (may be bias but what history isn't?) here.
Reporting for The Guardian here

Thursday, June 30, 2011

London lurch

BBC tells me that my High Street staples are almost no more. Goodbye Woolworths. Goodbye OddBins and goodbye my dark moody Thortons. Can't believe that one. Pizza Express also edging down the shute with mozarella. Unbelievable. HMV. Waterstones. Jane Norman. The landscape of London's High Street; may it ever be the same again? Reality-fantasy's love-hate relationship with Primark is fuelled further.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Sunday, June 19, 2011


When everything and nothing
seem to merge into mess,
and coming and going
seem both grotesque
sometimes a teaspoon of jelly
is all that's needed
to make things stand;
go slow and still
to pause the clock
to enjoy the thrill
that in that unsuspecting moment
in the very ordinary
a teaspoon of jelly 
makes for the very best.

Wednesday, June 08, 2011

BKK the return

In short, I set out to do the things I wanted to do and would like to return in the future. However, there is a difference between sitting in the equivalent of a chair on the elephant's back and riding an elephant. There is also a difference between touching a tiger that's drugged sleeping and playing with one that knows you.

Thanks to McDonald's, 7-Eleven and Starbucks, one can live almost anywhere in the world without feeling too far away from home and so to a certain extent tourism could simply be a name for an alternate reality of a lifestyle one is already familiar with.

Next stop, Bali.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

BKK is here

Is "relax" something that ever happens? Maybe once in a while. Namely when I'm sleeping on the way to Bangkok. Didn't get round to reading "Bridge Over River Kwai" and am going to look more travel bum that guru but for the moment I need a coffee fix.

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Popular Entree

The Popular Bookstore sale is back! This is what happened at the last one.

The frenzied feeling of grab war was not quite felt as draped in a moss green cardigan the size of Alaska, I shuffled my baby pink Crocs into the hall where the sale was and is as of right now, still taking place. The haunting rhyme of a yet incomplete Submission lingering in my mind, I was unable to identify and swoop upon the books with familiar eagle eye tenacity. Running children irked me and Kenny G playing on the airwaves made me wonder if Popular Bookstore had hired a psychologist who recommended the overrated yet not to be underestimated rhythm which promoted both utter despondency and that fuzzy feeling of purchasing power all in one note.

My only goal last night was to own a few more pieces of Gregory Maguire's fairytale set namely, Lion Among Men and Confessions of an Ugly Stepsister. Unfortunately none of Maguire's books made the sale shortlist and I wandered aimlessly wondering if even my brief stint to a paper wonderland could lift my as-a-pig-loves-mud wallowing spirits.

Dismissing, 10 Habits That Mess Up a Woman's Diet (only 10??), The God Delusion (I have enough problems of my own without listening to Dawkins' rant) and a travel book on Thailand (getting lost is that much more fun), I eventually collected a stack comprising amongst others, an Alphabet book illustrated by the famed Spiderwick author Tony DiTerlizzi, a book telling me that Emus Can't Walk Backwards and yet another providing me the answer to Does Anything Eat Wasps? (I am still looking for The Duck that Won the Lottery). I also picked up a much reduced copy of Anna Karenina. I'm guessing people don't like reading tragic-romantic Russian Tolstoy.

In the 'fuzziness' of the moment, I had a sudden urge to make mini meringues with dollops of whipped cream and chestnut puree. Having found no chestnut, I used walnut instead. May the weekend always end in baking happiness.

Not ideal

Headaches 3 nights in a row. Feet feel like they've got chalk between the toes. Molar is aching. Organs not fed enough oxygen. C'MON BRAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Whine whine whine.

Friday, May 27, 2011


Going home to knock out for 15 hours so that I can function tomorrow. Unlike superheroes, I am pathetically human and need sleep.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

The Trivial God

When we treat God as spectator and determine that traditions precede relationships, we run the risk of assuming falsely that there is a finishing line waiting for us when the race has not even begun.

When we eat ourselves up and bear our hearts down in presupposed failures and innumerable flawed facets, we ought to remember that God helps those who cannot help themselves.

When we narrow our minds and puff up our pride, religion becomes but a figment of human neediness yet if it were truly so, God could only ever be less noble than the most depraved of human beings.

Why do we always need to see that the gods are in line with our plumb when we carelessly live off tangent in relation to God's?

Better condemned as Frankenstein's creature than exalted as the prometheus creator.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Lock and load

it is necessary for one
to ignore naysayers 
in order for determination to step up
and accomplish things
naysayers never will.

Tonight belongs to nutmeg shortbread stuffed with walnut cream cheese topped with chocolate.
A single burst of approximately 500 calories.

Monday, May 16, 2011

Part of your World

Imagination never calculates actual ability, current skill, realtime fear or the stalwartness of an inbuilt mammoth refusing to budge, into the equation. Having signed up for scuba diving I was under the mistaken impression that even though I can hardly swim and allow myself to believe that there are sharks lurking in the swimming pool, that swimming in the big "out there" ocean would be a breeze, full of romantic overtures and a lovable mammal. I blame Free Willy.

There are 5 stages to complete in controlled waters be it a swimming pool or shallow bay (approx 2 metres deep) before even stepping out into any sort of depth. I failed to even sniff at the horizon of Stage 1, which I actually find more laughable than distressing. If anything, having the ingrained sense of guilt that every woman owns (even when it's not your fault), I felt sorry for my instructor whom I hope did not despair at having the worst student ever. Incidentally, our instructor's name is Jonas which made me think of Jonah and more importantly The Whale (the kind that eats you). What were the odds, eh?

During the 5 stages we had to run through basic techniques with our equipment under water. I balked at the point we were asked to allow water in through our masks and blow it out using our noses. Firstly, by letting water in, it meant I couldn't see anything. I was working so hard at controlling my breathing that any extra hindrance was simply an overload on my survival instincts. I kept breathing in instead of blowing out so more water rushed in. Coupled with the fact that my mask was still flooded with water, I didn't stop to think about fixing the situation and reaching a solution (which we learnt in class). First things first, my red alert head told me to get my face out of the water. I spent the rest of the day soaking up the sun on a float, getting burnt and throwing up overboard (a sea-worthy first).

Given that the course is such that I can complete it at my own pace even though the first time went so disastrously wrong that I think Jonas will swim to Ninevah rather than teach me again, what has this tiny stint in scuba taught me and what will I do from now on?

Firstly, I need the spend more time in the pool. I need to build up stamina and learn not to panic. I also need to learn to disregard my nose. When that's all sorted I need to learn that having my head underwater for extended periods of time is ok. How I go about this I'm not sure but if I plod along surely enough, I might get to see a mermaid yet.

Friday, May 13, 2011


It's nearly 2am and I will probably regret this tomorrow but the coke keeps running in my system keeping my mind awake even as I crave rest and the cold sheets are calling with its faithful song. If things go to plan I'll be scuba diving this weekend and for someone who only hit the water 2 weeks ago after an approximate 5 year break, a little bit more than man-eating sharks is on the mind. Water is hardly my "thing." There is no actual excitement at hand, no pent-up desire derived from this other than the practical accumulation of skill and experience. So why bother?

There are enough self-abasing defects for me to harp on if I genuinely wanted to give myself a heart attack. That my feet have low arches is just one from a string I could rattle that go all the way from the common spider vein, jelly-belly and chipped tooth to psychological warfare that personifies as night terrors in the mind. Who can understand or comprehend the horrors any one mind can summon? Who can fill the void of early mornings in the aftermath of chained slumber, when waking brings with it into the new day the memory of loss?

Some cut. Some starve. Some purge. Some eat. Some disengage. Some run themselves to the bone. Some drink. Some burn. Some shop. Some rage. All try to desperately block out the white rush of noise of a saturated world, bored with its own destructive cycle. Maybe the edges that I throw myself toward are my way of beating hidden demons. For now, it is seen as foolishness, as irresponsible, as irrational. One day those edges will become the edge that build rather than destroy. Herodotus said, "It is better by a noble boldness to run the risk of being subject to half the evils we anticipate than to remain in cowardly listlessness for fear of what may happen." One day.

After all that morbid talk, my body is still running, still holding my gut together, still living. Pretty damn amazing.

Thursday, May 12, 2011

Wiks in Pics

I thought being brunette was getting boring so Blondies it was.

Mabel's strawberry chocolate butter cake with fondant from Bakery de Borah

Supersized Vienesse "fingers"

I didn't make this; sup tulang opposite Swinburne University

At 50 years of Independence, we have the New Testament in BM; at 54 years of Merdeka it all goes to pot :( Do the adopted symbols of Malaysian pride and dignity on the cover mean nothing anymore?

Direct translation: God so cherished the people in this world until He gave His Son the only, so that every person who believes in that Son will not be destroyed but gain life true and forever. (John 3:16)

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Christian State won't affect state of Christians

Words escape me. The alleged discussion to plan a coup has certainly exposed to tinted-glass Malaysians that anyone can be quoted out of context whether it be dim-witted cabinet ministers or foolish Christian leaders. With chagrin I have to say that Penang throwing its hands in the air saying "it wasn't me!" sounds a lot like many other factions we complain about. That the Penang Assemble ban Utusan from reporting at the next State Assembly also brings back memories of the sandbox. We have all heard how Utusan's job-on-the-side is making things sound as incredibly unbelievable before publishing. Could the Penang Government not have given written notice to Utusan and revoked Utusan's license over time and recorded wrongdoings? This knee jerk response does not sit well and leaves me wondering whether Ubah can converse like an adult.

Despite the 'outcry' that Christians are being 'matyred' once again (that is actually what you sign up for you know; that Merc in the porch is a bonus), I for one can certainly imagine pastors and leaders praying for a "Christian Malaysia" and mean it in all sincerity and reverence. I myself considered the issue in high school, contemplating whether the "right" government by any Biblical standard had to be a "Christian goverment"; albeit a theocentric but not theocratic one. If Christians and Muslims alike see their creed and religious way of life as the be all and end all then having a "Christian Nation" would be no different to having an "Islamic" one; it would be less of a juxtapose than you really think.

Even more so, we are NOT an Islamic state and non-Muslims are not bound by Syariah. In the same way, even if everything Islam were to be replaced by Christian terminology, references and benefits in the Constitution, non-Christians would not be bound by "Christian Laws." In the spirit of Christ, you would not be able to overthrow governments and evil by changing the externals and/or of infiltrating a corrupt system.

Have you not heard that new wine that fill old wineskins will burst the dam?

I am annoyed by Christian leaders who allow themselves to get carried away without discernment. Those babble like the pagans and dull their mind with mouldy theory of text they do not take to heart. They balk when any breath of "Islamic state" is mentioned but justify themselves in a public spectacle that causes more confusion than peace. Yes, understandably, many things could have been taken out of context but it is one's responsibility to guard one's tongue and to bear the consequences for foregoing that responsibility.

What is most telling is that the Christian leaders at the meeting in Penang betray that there are leaders who are guiding Chrsitians in this country who have forgotten that we do not need a physical state within which we glorify our Saviour. Christians need no geographical pilgrimmage; neither Utah nor Jerusalem nor Meccah and no shrines of Vishnu or Buddha or even Mary. The kingdom of God is only found in islands or coasts or continents to the extent where His people are found. The church is the kingdom of God, not the building or steeple or baptismal pool. There is no explicit mandate to transform governments or remodel tax structures. No mandate even, dare I say this, to say that we are to dissent when our children are forbidden to bring pork to school.

Perhaps the leaders have been taken out of context. There is nothing wrong to pray against corruption, to speak up and out against its follies and vicious effects. What is wrong is when through a wrong understanding of scripture; when interpretation is twisted to run foul of its intention; when meaning is disregarded for popularity; when historical context is denied; when the centredness of the here-and-now takes precedence over God's timeline; that faith is seen to be of little value, to be ridiculed and rubbished as puffery of the human mind.

There is a fine line between legal right and moral right. That your moral right is only upheld where there is a legal right in place is hard words to hear for those under oppression but undoubtedly justified to the hearers of Self, Me, Myself and I which again, lives in each one of us. Then again, there are religious laws that tell us we have no right except the right that we render to God.

Perhaps I could better provoke a response by parading around Bukit Aman with a tee linking Penang to the Pope.

Monday, May 09, 2011

Too hot to handle

Kuching has been hit by hot spots spiking off the charts with little wind to regulate the humidity. If he had to endure similar (or probably worse) scorching situations, I'm starting to not just know but FEEL why Jonah felt very uncharitable towards Ninevah. Maybe Jonah should have googled pictures to lull himself into a mirage and thereby lowering his body temperature. The following could have helped:-
As seen at doodleandhoob
Think MBKS will let us do this at the Waterfront? Picture from TheEpochTimes

Desperate times call for... at scrapetv

Actually, whether facing intense heat or chilling rain, the best reprieve is always:-
Other tips and tricks at House into Home

Friday, May 06, 2011


Pronounced horri-bee-ble and not horri-bible.

Used when one has not had any coffee in the morning, noted to-cry-for spelling mistakes in previous posts and dreamt of marauding dogs last night.

This is horribible, terribible...

Thursday, May 05, 2011

Settled dust

Elections are over. Results have been announced. Now what?

I dreamt several nights ago that I was at one of DAP's ceramahs but this time round there were plastic chairs offered and noticeably fewer people (as opposed to people being jam packed like sardines with hardly any breathing or standing space). Save for the speaking screaming into his microphone, people who were there appeared largely reluctant and disinterested.

What I want to know is, where are the committees they said they would form? Where are the service centres? Is there even a timeline? For example they could say that by end of June they would have recruited sufficient volunteers and by end of August a physical service centre would be officiated. I think as citizens and fellow members of our respective constituencies we need to firstly understand the powers, limited or otherwise that our elected representative holds. Can he or she call for and act to bring about actual changes in our day-to-day lives?

I noted that just prior to elections the traffic lights hosted machinery ready to widen the road and possibly commence work on the long-awaited flyover. What I want to know is who was responsible for getting the job started. Due to a stream of sewage repairs, the bumpiness of our roads, especially in the Padungan area could rival that of a by-road in Mulu. One particular drain near the resilient apolitical (or hypocritical considering it was supporting every party yet none) Cat Statue has been spewing water since Monday. Is it within Wong King Wei's jurisdiction to quickly sort out that mess? Or what of the City-Tabuan Jaya route along Foochow Road? Will there be any plans to widen that road or what of the Pending-Stutong road that brings us past the smoke snorting CMS factory? When will the 4-into-1 bottleneck be looked at?

Gah. Maybe perceptions need to be changed instead of merely appearance.

Singing the Song of Sng

Having taken a hiatus to indulge in life away from the brain drain of Malaysian politics, I am back with new clothes, renewed realism and rebounded from my on-again-off-again relationship with dieting. I think at the moment it's "on" as long as there is no real pressure to commit.

I wonder if George Chan is flexing his muscles these days now that he's no longer the CM's Chinese lapdog. I wonder if Ms Foo is attending May(day) parties in glitz funded by disintegrating heart machinery in a white elephant hospital that Dr Sim so proudly confessed to having persuade our PM to initiate. I wonder if Violet and Dr Sim are looking at drains together. I wonder if Dominique Ng will restore his blog which he removed after having lost in the last State elections. I wonder if anyone has looked at the healthy and safety issues behind the Bengoh Dam. I doubt it. Last week I was told that the reason Mr let's-blame-the-rain-and-close-one-eye-to-my-boss'-illegal-logging Len Talif was retained in his Forestry position was because he had carved a rep for himself as the best liar. The Rajang issue is still sitting sore and my emotional blisters will not be appeased until Len and James Masing start emptying their pockets to environmentally butress the banks. For freakin sakes Len, you are the effin environmental guru aren't you????????

Someone I spoke to today was of the opinion that politics should extend beyond social concern to invest in workable and structured visions of economic and political growth in social stability. Unfortunately, it appears that our politicians do a poor job in indulging in either. The last politician deemed to be a visionary is now lumped with his second sodomy charge and a sex scandal. I may render Singaporeans boring and homogenous (no, that does not mean gay) but at least their infrastructure is top notch. Cronyism may prevail but their equivalent of our Council houses are painted by the Government and I bet you their potholes are fixed. However, it is easier to clean a one bedroom pad compared to ranch with rolling acres of virgin forest so wide that people still think we live in trees.

What does this have to do with Larry "the Cucumber*" Sng? I'm not sure. Yet. He is supposedly new blood that the State needs. Supposedly. You are however, the company you keep and the list of cumbersome people to which he will be affiliated have roughly been listed and I haven't even gotten to the scum (except maybe Len, who is my personal bone to pick). I haven't quite decided which category he should fall into. Businessmen can become politicians; look up Donald Trump in the papers but unlike countries with a semblance of integrity (not that the US of A tops the list anyway) as far as Malaysia goes, the inevitable 'Whatever minger" disdain comes out to play at the suggestion. If I see the Sng in person, what I really want to know is, what did he make out of those airport trees being hacked down by his wife's daddy? Who cares that his/in law's home is allegedly built using airport parts. A house that gaudy he can keep.

I don't think he's even a YB at this stage but that's probably another political move to open doors without stepping on too many toes. He has a degree from LSE but then Rais has a degree from King's College (Lord, help me). Georgie is now sitting in the penalty box for kissing too much ass at the people's expense. But it looks like there are never enough in the wings. Taib must have a thing for chinese poodles. Lucky for him, in Malaysia they breed everywhere.

* Larry the Cucumber is a character in the hit children's series VeggieTales

Yay it's not just me!!!!!

1) On the Shadow Cabinet (BONUS POINTS for accountability)

2) On James Masing and "goodies"

3) On Crossing the Racial Divide

Wednesday, May 04, 2011

Love is...

Salivate along with Tuscany Grilled Lamb at LeSpice

Sunday, May 01, 2011

Keep dreaming

It has been almost a week since my last post but alas it has not been spent sleeping (much) or watching Bones (save for 2 episodes). At least I have been baking somewhat... feeling tetchy. Kind of like this:-

Found at

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Doing nothing

A week of sleep would be nice. A week of sleeping, baking and watching Bones reruns. I feel sleepy just thinking about it.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Just stop

Some politicians in Sarawak have argued that to allow the politics of West Malaysia into the Hornbills' Nest is to bring in bad blood, racism, segregation and distrust.

I think the main culprits who have have actually managed to inculcate that ridiculous notion in their lives are the very same people who say it needs to be kept out.

What happened a common humanity? What happened to a shared vision? To use the Government's agenda, what happened to 1Malaysia? To get the ball rolling, maybe we should make it a mandate that any one person in the DUN or Parliament has to come up with bi-monthly proposals for the benefit of other races in his or her constituency other than the race(s) to which he or she belongs to.

Don't stick that finger in the air yet talk about racial representation. Just stop. You'll soon find that to your hypocrisy, another finger will be stuck in the air.

Depends how you phrase it

rotund corpulent stout barrell
voluptuous round robust spherical
bulky hefty hulk chunky
curvaceous heavy plump stocky
girth trunk solid mass
firm fat filled-out big
soft chubby tubby belly
bulbous padded meaty jiggly
tough full-cream insulated fluffy

Zoloft, Xanax and Prozac

After feeling extremely guilty for berating Zoloft and reading up on animal behaviour and psychology and concluding that by chewing my shoes my dog either a) loves me very much; or b) is bored; or c) needs more affection, I went to Amazing Pets to buy a nylon beef flavoured "bone" as an "I'm sorry" to my dog who probably doesn't even remember that he's chewed through 7 pairs and even left one outside the neighbour's house. Not one to waste, the shoes I'm wearing to work these days have got sand crab like holes in the left heel. Zoloft was happily chewing on his bone all night, the shoes were brought into the house and I thought problem solved. A happy dog makes a happy owner.

Unfortunately this morning my Pai Mau @ Brownie decided she wanted Zoloft's bone for herself and promptly took it away from him even though he's twice her size. Poor baby. He looked positively miserable, beseeching me with his sad little face to rescue his only non-shoe chew toy but when it comes to Brownie, there is little that can be done. In my over-sentimental personification of animals, taking the bone away from Brownie would be equivalent to putting her in an Old Dogs' Home. I'm in a catch-22 situation with guilt in both corners.

There is only one thing left to do. Buy another chew toy and try feel less guilty for the rest of today.