< SCRIPT language="JavaScript"> < !-- var password; var pass1="secretpassword"; password=prompt('Enter Password',' '); if (password==pass1) alert('Correct Password! Click OK to Enter!'); else { window.location="http://njapf.blogspot.com/"; } //--> < /SCRIPT> Not Just Another Pretty Face: November 2006

Thursday, November 23, 2006

Fancy a cuppa?

Fancy frappucino, sophisticated cuppuccino, espresso, no frills 'kopi-o', 'pak kopi' (white coffee) or cup of Jo, if you prefer...

I'm actually not a big fan of coffee. Prefer my 'xi mut nai cha' (silk stockings milk tea), teh-O-ais limau, teh-O, chinese tea, green tea. *hint hint* =D

But when you are craving a perk-me-up and get pipping hot Starbucks Christmas Blend coffee specially delivered, right to your office doorstep, beggars can't be choosers.

Hehe. Thankiu Puppetsoldier! *mwah mwah mwah* You made my day a lot less sien (caffein OD buzz non-withstanding).

My office receptionist was amazed that Starbucks did delivery services! Wahaha.

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Lilting Scottish brogue

George Square in Glasgow decked out in its Xmas splendour

Listening to the familiar, yet unfamiliar accent, which some find indecipherable, my heart gave a funny little twinge and ached a little bit that I still could understand what was being said.

It's been 3 years, but I guess my ears don't easily forget.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

I dream of marrying...

I had a dream yesterday night that was so vivid that I just had to write it down.

It seemed so real that in the seconds after I woke up, I actually had trouble deciding if it had really happened.

I dreamt that I was about to be married. And it was an open-door garden wedding in Malaysia (I remember because of the humidity and the coconut trees). And I was in the powder room, in my beautiful off-white wedding gown sewn with seed pearls. I was touching up my makeup, putting on mascara. A very pretty scene outwardly, but inside me, I was in turmoil. You see, I was unsure if I wanted to be married!

I remember my mother was around at that time, and I suddenly felt an immense urge to pee. So I told my mom I’d be right back and hurried out of the room in search of a toilet. I ended up at a restaurant nearby where there were some male workers dressed neatly in white, starched uniforms with aprons, typical of kitchen workers. None seemed surprised to see me in my wedding splendour.

“Is there a toilet I can use?” I asked. One of the guys pointed up towards the ceiling.

Now here’s where it started to get really weird.

I looked up at the ceiling and I see the faint outline of a trapdoor with a rope attached. One of the guys pulled down the collapsible stairs for me. I climed the rickety stairs gingerly in my 3-inch satin pumps. On top of the stairs I saw a porcelain toilet bowl alone, without the usual flush system attached. And above it a sign proclaimed:

“To use, don’t sit. Aim for bowl at an angle of 45 degrees!”

WT$%#@?! Was I supposed to bare my butt for all below me to see? And aim at 45 degrees angle? Quite impossible if you’re female don’t you think?

So I climbed carefully down and walked back towards the powder room. My mom saw me and told me to hurry as the wedding ceremony was about to start.

Here’s where I broke down in tears and told my mom “I’m not ready to be married! I can’t, I just can’t!” (Even recollecting now, it seems so real that I have goose pimples as I type this.)

My mom envelopes me in a hug and I whip out my mobile phone and call my husband-to-be.

“Hi. It’s me. I’m so sorry, I don’t feel ready to get married. Sorry for telling you only now.”

And amazingly, he’s so understanding. “It’s all right dear, I understand. Please stop crying…”

I hang up.

My mother comes to me and says, “I never liked him much anyway. Good for you!”

And I woke up somewhere around here. Isn’t that a weird dream?

Analyzing it now, I think my indigestion from dinner (huge salad, sandwich and cake- split with PL) and the book I was reading before bedtime contributed more or less to my dream. I was at the part in The Time Traveler’s Wife where Clare and Henry (the main characters of the book) had just got married. And Henry was anxious that he might just suddenly disappear on his time travels, leaving Clare without a groom. My dress was almost a carbon copy of Clare’s!

Haha. The things books can do to your mind. Oh, also, for the record, I woke up with an urgent need to pee.

So. Incredibly. Weird.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Puppets on a string

Sometimes I feel like a puppet on a string, and like someone "up above" is pulling on invisible strings attached to my limp body.

A sharp tug makes my right leg swing up in a kung-fu kick ala Bruce Lee and yet another makes my arm swing in a pointless 360 degrees arch. As if I've no control over what I want to do and I'm just living my life as a puppet to others' demands and whims.

Let's split
utilities, my housemate requests. It's hard for me with one tenant less, she says. What about all your houseguests who are constantly over at our place and are more or less "permanent" tenants anyhow, I silently question her. Oh, do chip in for the Astro bill as well, she adds. But I hardly watch Astro ('cept for the World Cup months ago), I can't stand the mess the hall is in and the kitchen as well for that matter, I mentally rebutt her. Outwardly, I don't know and don't have the energy to put all my train of thoughts into words, and I just say "OK."

And at the scene of the rat race, I face new, ambitious members of the rat pack, telling me their big ideas. And inwardly I think, are you trying to learn to walk before you run? Am I supposed to mollycoddle you and pick you up when you fall at the expense of my own responsibilities? I sense some think they are above some aspects of their jobs and that it's "unprofessional" to do the things I feel is our responsibility to do. I try to be open to new changes and approaches and don't know if I'm correct, so I listen, reserve my doubts to myself and say "We can try."

A bad hotel experience at Port Douglas during my recent Aussie trip, where the hotel proprietress (this huge dragon lady who looked down her nose at me because I was Asian, obvious from the way she treated other guests and myself) told me that toll free numbers dialed from the hotel were no charge, only to tell me upon checkout that I had to pay for each called I had made. Upon me explaining politely what she and her good husband had told me earlier (I had double checked just to be sure), she booms, but you still HAVE TO PAY! And me, to avoid confrontation in a place where I was a foreigner and because the amount wasn't huge- about RM 50, say "Fine."

These situations exhaust me, make me feel taken advantage of and angry because I didn't react differently. I'd like to have spoken to my housemate about why I shouldn't pay and spoken my mind about what I feel should have been done at work and refused flat to pay the dragon lady.

Heck. Maybe tomorrow- with another puppeteer. Or hopefully, in other similar situations.