Of values

So,  my previous post derived from Fitzgerald’s genius had earned me a spot of featured blog post of the week in the company’s global portal blogosphere (Yes, we have our own internal blogging community, and encouraged to do so!). Less it conjures the idea of sharing bits and pieces of information on piece of leftover nando’s you ate last night for dinner, or who you ended up pashing at the company party - no, it’s nothing of that sort. Rather professionalized reading material, if i should say, but mostly inspiring to see people opening up and express themselves beyond the facade of what we see at work. Not that we have the typical structured working ambience, as normal working hours already revealed behaviour nothing short of ordinary. In short, I had my five minutes of fame and yes, I felt a huge sense of accomplishment as if I have achieved something big. Something great, of life changing value. despite it being minute and noticeable only if you look for it.  

Incentives we secretly covert while on our pursuit of life and happiness and little jewels of accomplishments that we use to adorn the resume of our existence are all so familiar as they have been used mostly to define us. The way we live become who we are.  The way we live or who we choose to become became choices which are no longer exlusively ours. It became a subtle collective endorsement, knowingly. The way we morph from a baby to a toddler and sexually intrigued young adult, eventually to a woman, married, parent and grandmother of a clan - there was a silent deriding power from which we learn from our forefathers that allow us to know who we are given the roles that we reprise.

Alas, there’s always a Germaine Greer among each of us. What struck me as ironic was I started all out rebelling against the imposition only to realize that the only rebel was all about trying to fit in, and the struggle of not being able to do so. It wasn’t against the establishment as the mind was convinced to believe so, rather it was the desire to be accepted in the establishment which provoked the upheaval.  I guess it’s all about growing up an underdog, you’re never in the limelight and had struggle to be counted, to be seen, and to be recognised.  It’s not hard to notice that the feeling of insecurities are what the motivating factor is, and as opposed to continuously yearning for self gratification elsewhere it’s what we can pull up from within which matters most.

If we always look for values to be endowed, then we will always be without. The most beautiful thing in life are not those who are readily given, but it lies in what you are able to create out of it. The problem is when we cease to believe, and when we have been so moulded to connotate values with specific pre-conditions which made half the population already judging before Susan Boyle even starts to sing. Were we surprised more with our judgmental self, or was it the singing? It just shows that the conceived notion of societal values need to be shaken and stirred. It just shows that we need to live our lives by no one but our own standards and continue to believe to reach the stars, even if nobody else believe in you. It just shows that the power of one’s unshakeable conviction is what matters most, and value is determinate in nature. We determine our own worth.

For that experience to finally uncover this, life becomes worthwhile.

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Fitzgerald-ized

For what it’s worth: it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.

~ Benjamin Button

In the midst of random hecticness and busy schedule of apparent nothingness, I came across these words and in that instance, my whole life felt to be transformed (no pun intended..). In that second, my life became meaningful (now, really….)  In that splinter of a second too, my life registered and recognized it’s purpose (it gets better….)

How ridiculous that one search for the purpose of their lives throughout millions of fluctuating fleeting moments only to be halted at their own tracks within a fraction of an eyeblink for something of  brilliance resembling ’the’ eternal truth be unfolded.  In that moment, my life becomes.

And i attributed it to being Fitzgerald-ized.

Filed under: life, literature

Unmasked

“My dad loves to eat tomato sandwich. He fixes computer at work. He’s 6 ft tall and my mommy called him *Rusky. I love to sit on his lap and I love my dad”.

The endearing colorful abstract like drawing posted with pride on the wall would welcome me each time I came to Rusky’s area for a conversation. He’s the senior Partner that is managing the entire team with enormous responsibilities. So, Rusky’s little son can be rest assured that his dad is doing more than fixing computers at work. Rusky is the sort of person that has an autonomous magnetic presence. He speaks in a monotonous voice, yells at a monotonous voice but always get his message across unnerving young associates with already buckled knees. He also always reserve a good hearty laugh whenever the situation warrants for it, and like the typical male species love his sports and beer. He epitomises the big guy look who is actually mushy and vulnerable inside. But you won’t be able to tell unless you ever come to know him.

Just like Rusky, we are all individuals who people would not be able to come to know if all that we represent is a facade instead of our true selves. Like a class clown who makes others laugh but end up being the one who decided to take his own life, like a man who is clearly in love but denies his feelings and hence losing the opportunity for love, and like everyone of us who are all too familiarise with the art of feigning artificial appearance to safeguard the side of  our own dignity which we seek to protect from knowing, we start to lose ourselves. To ourselves.

How we fail to recognize the silent cry of those who remained the most cheerful and optimist among us, how we fail to ressurect connection to friends who assured us of their emotions despite tell-tale signs, how we choose to give in to our ignorance for awareness takes too much effort, gave meaning to the perplexity of how some times things happen beyond our comprehension. Because, it can happen and our lack of empathy and ability to understand does nothing to stop in track those who are struggling in silence.  And it happens because we gave in to our ignorance. It happens because caring would involve too much courage and effort and beyond the boundaries of what we think is acceptable.

Can we really extend our care and promise to live our lives to care for those around us who seem to struggle without the general indifference of that is how they want to live their lives?  Can we really breakthrough our so called egoistic self of not wanting to be labeled as prying when it is our inquisition that leads to the breakthrough of our hearts and theirs? How many times have we watched dramas of love and relationships blossomed under smooth sailing circumstances? Reluctance communication and closed hearts were trampled with inquisitive care and concern till the opposite party gave in to the understanding that there are those who still care. Till their struggling hearts consented to be heard, and be helped?

Can we stop the hypocrisy of wanting to save the world but not being able to save ourselves first from the possession of ignorance and general indifference, which are the critical attributes of a peaceful world? Can we stop talking about lending our superior assistance to those that are needy when it is our arrogance which needs to be fed instead of the well-being of others? Can we halt the idea of grandiosity behind charitable work when we indirectly endorsed red tape in organizations as a rampant practice?

Now, why am I am asking all these questions, if I may ask myself? I guess it’s because as times crawled I find myself more like being those that hid behind the painted veil.

So subtlely losing the vigour and passion of righteousness…

Filed under: life, work

The crying methodology

(old entries – clearing my draft and published some excess posts)

I tried to call someone at times that I felt like this person in me is living off someone else’s fringe benefits. Each time that I felt like a circumsference companion to myself, to anyone and to my life. I tried to communicate each time I had a hardpressed feeling surging upward for release, but at times felt caged within. And then I cried. Like in the movies, you pressed and sank your tired back to the back of the wall and slowly slid down, ever so slowly to the floor till you squatted in that position and started wailing. The phone was dropped off the floor and the intended call unmade anyway.  No voice uttered.

The crying methodology reprises itself from its dormant secrecy and engulfed the whole body. Felt as if there was nothing left. Ain’t true of course, but a certain calmness was felt at that instant that the mind is adamant that there was nothing left. As if there was nothing left to lose. As if there was nothing else that mattered. Ain’t true of course, but the mind begged for a moment of deception. Forget the sensible talk, let it be for once. Let it be insensible, let it be irrational, let it be some unsavoured moments of absurdity hovering in the air of gloomy resonance.

Melancholy seeks its ephemeral pleasures. Solace seeks its companions.

But pensiveness of these sorts need to be alleviated. Just not this once, yet.

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Ditzy, my new middle name

I used to have a penchant for complicating things in my life. An innate ability of turning what seems to be simple things to be complex in nature. Truth coverted into mixture of fabricated theory and hypothesis. Facts thwarted into the realms of deluded illusions and reality became a never ending quest for an elusive answer to the series of complications, accumulated along the way. 

Since I can’t remember when, or was it when my heart was readily about to burst out of heartache and consuming pain that I’ve taken a U-turn in life to de-mystify the vapour of mysteries in my life. I hardly have any comeback readily available whenever any assault of my character or ability is thrown my way. I hardly need to put up a front of a serious and articulate person for fear of being mistaken as a ready made idiot. In fact, I became ditzy. I am the girl that people laughed at because I had so many “blonde” moments. I am the girl that people laughed at because I seem to be the centre of attention by being gullible, fragile and somewhat dim-witted. Many stories of my faux pas became immortalised over dinners, drinks and social gatherings. People laughed over how was it possible that I could blundered like this, but in a cute and endearing manner which tickled everyone’s fancy. I laughed, and wondered how did I ever end up this way.

I laughed, and realised that I never laugh at myself. I never forgive myself or provide myself with any leeway to get out from erroneous situations. But I walked the long road to conclude that this newfound ability of being amused with myself is exemplifying my confidence in own being. That I am at peace with myself and who i am. That i no longer think that my self-worth is determined from an outward perspective, that i no longer fear that being labelled as a blondie will tarnish the reputation of my self and that i no longer really care and should care too much of how my character is perceived socially. The seemingly tiny revelation opens up an unlimited world filled with new sense of liberty. Had i not go through what i did, this sensation of freedom would still remain as a notion which was understood by the mind, but not experienced and lived with the life. For that, I am deeply in gratitude to my life for teaching me this important lesson of knowing my own self worth.

For that, I am happy to be someone that people love to poke fun at, but within my private moments I would engage in my own self reflection and rejoice in the fact that no one can take away from me the foundation which I have built in my life, of which creates the essence of who i am.

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I have a date with spring

The arrival of spring was unheralded, if not by the scurrying activities which signalled the beginning of what seems to have began. By the time you know it, spring has already crept in. Outdoor activities topped most of the weekend plans, with the pits and grills being taken out from its hibernating closure. The best is still yet to come. Melbourne Spring Racing Festival is but a couple of days away, with excited punters making bets on the winning horses, ladies shopping for the latest racecourse fashions gearing towards the Derby Day celebration while the rest of the melbournians just thrilled to enjoy the Melbourne Cup public holiday.  

Billed as The race that stops the nation, it’s also notoriously famous for the showstopper fashion scenes. It was the infamous scene where Jean Scrimpton paraded the first of Mary Quant’s version of “miniskirts” and made do without the traditional hats and gloves which have all but been a proud ladies tradition of the conservative society back then. What a blasphemy it caused in the name of the dignity and honour of the womenkind, but bless her courage and soul for the so-called outrageous outfit for the said off-white miniskirt has not so much of created a fashionable sensation but also helped to transform the society along the way to stretch from its stifling conduct and in accepting new changes.

These days, the Cup days are flocked by celebrities, both international and locals alike. Paris Hilton caused a stir couple of years back, can’t remember for what though. And thousands of hats have also caused similar stirs with one creation from a designer trying to outdo the other. Admist the funny observations of the celebrities antics, irresponsible bettings, ocassional occcupational hazards by the jockeys, stories of drunken madness from the after parties, throngs of people cheering at the local pubs over jugs of beers and ales – it’s a reminder again that spring is here to stay. Pollens are making their yearly pilgrimage to the delight of nature, while some poor souls are still surviving the hay fever aftermaths. Flowers are blooming, and parks are filled with passerbys, strangers, lovers and loners. Almost everyone and everything is out.

At work, the Corporate Games is taking its place with inter tournament team practices every weekend towards the end of the month. The start of Spring also signalled the month of “Movember” a charity drive for the cause of men’s prostrate cancer. It’s the time of the year that we poke fun at the guys who are growing their moustaches in raising funds for the cause, while the ladies became Mo-ladies who help to rally for more men to grow their thang. Now, which one of you look like a 70’s porn star, we’ll find out soon… hahahaha..

Spring is also the time that Shakespeare in the Park and Midsummer Night Dreams showcase their debut on the grounds of Royal Botanical Gardens. Main stream movies screenings by outdoor cinemas is starting to rock and roll too. A certain rooftop bar at St Kilda would showcase $10 movie with a free beer, which obviously has been and will continue to be an annual crowd favourite pleaser. Spring is also the time that beaches are being patronized by bikini babes and hunky males in speedos. Multitude of things take place in spring, it’s as if the entire city is going through an amazing transformation after a bout of winter spell. The inhabitants seemed to be awakened and with that, there are so much to look forward to and arrays of options available for everyone at any budget level.

Care for a date with spring, anyone?

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Eat, Drink, Man, Woman..

The spoken and unspoken surreal familial feelings during my past 3 weeks back in Malaysia spent solely in the company of closed friends and family members had an immense benefit to my improved well-being. For one, my apetite for food was gearing towards being ravenous again which is, a tremendously splendid sign. Weeks spent on the nation infamous for glorious hawker food put me into misery as my failing stomache protested throughout with me ending up enjoying mom’s home cooked porridge most of the time. Plus, the only thing which I ate throughout Mei & Vijay’s wedding was a tiny bun. Without butter.

Prior to coming back to OZ land, mom puts me onto a daily regimented chinese medicine tonic and my body was replenished with all the intricately prepared and lovingly brewed chinese cordyceps, red dates and goji berries. A warm pot of soup acts as a unfailing surrogate expression of love when the spoken expressions of love becomes too dificult. Armed with similar herbs and passing through the infamous custom officers at the airport, I was surpised by the Australian officer who proceeded to give me an excerpt of what seems to be the benefit of goji berries and red dates to the well being of the body. Inter cultural exchange can’t be more fascinating than this.

Aside of picking up on the new role, I’ve been getting myself well fed. Monday night has been crowned as the newly constitutionalized “parma night”. Most of the local pubs downtown have a Monday special of huge kicking ass chicken parma topped with a slab of ham and comes with a side of mountaineous fat chips. All for $10!  Tuesday was out at the Oriental Bistro catching up with a long lost friend whom I’ve lost touch since 5 years back. Wednesday night was $10 specials again, burger with fries! (burb…). All washed down with a glass of ale and somehow all the burdens of the day gradually take a backseat to what’s in front for the night to come. Thursday was at Koto Moon’s overpriced but delicious chinese wannabe food ala stir fry hokkien noodles with black bean sauce (gasp!) before rushing over to the group meeting to study on the revolutionized shakyamuni’s buddhism of humanism. Friday feast was the delicious arrays of canapes and finger food at the account Halloween party. By then, I’ve been strategizing on my weekend homecook menu which I desperately need and crave.

I took great pleasure during the weekend to research online on easy, quick, simple but yet delicious recipe for both entertaining and own consumption. Saturday night trial was an improvised version of my own rendition of comfort food at it’s best – “spag bog”. Nothing like a pot of bubbling mince meat simmering in tomato sauce topped with oregano and sprinkled with parmesan. I’m also absolutely pedantic when it comes to cooking and eating my own food. Blaming it on the day time job which trained my analytical brain, I’ve exercised no restraint with my bolognese and did a mental calculation on what would make the next version a better one (Practice, practice, practice!) Note to self: must sweat the onions more till caramelized and must dice the pancetta on a cube size of 5mm.

Sunday night was conceptualized to be a food sharing night and I’ve shelved the initial lamb shanks night to give way to what better than Hainanese chicken rice & beef bone sweet corn/potato/carrot soup. Absolutely deelish. Now, I’m tired. From cooking, eating, talking about food, analysing food and researching on food. I’m still lurking around the Taste.com.au website for new stufss to create. It pays to be my friend, I’ll feed you well

Ang Lee’s movie depicted best that eating and drinking are but necessities of life. Which should be enjoyed.

Filed under: food, life

Go figure..

I just realised, or should i re-phrase that I just reawakened again to the realization that it ain’t easy being a woman. Being sick and stressed for the past 2 months or so had me neglecting the business of taking care of the aesthetic look of this body of mine, and lo and behold signs were showing everywhere on every aspects of my crowning glory, till my very last toe nail. Dry split ends hair, dull looking skins with sagging eyebags, dehydrated skin, unkempt finger and toe nails, and the list goes on.

Vanity invariably strikes at its peak, wanting to redeem its centrestage. Being a self proclaimed no natural beauty, I had to rely on many off the shelves and homemade remedies to get myself into “shape”. Having slogged off high schools and university days struggling with various theorems the likes of Pythagoras, Newton, Fourier Transform and the many mind boggling technical jargons in relations to principles of telecommunications, I found myself challenged once again - but this time in a serious pondering mode at the downtown Mecca Cosmetica deciding on the many revolutionary beauty products that are besieging my already saturated brain.

Anti wrinkle Cream: Serum or cream? Natural antioxidants or glycolic acid? (Decisions!) Eye cream: Revitalise or firming? Require radiance or just reduce puffiness? (Decisions!) Hair shampoo: Dry hair with oily scalps? Sensitive oily scalps with damaged hair follicles? Coloured or treated hair? (Too many permutations, decisions!) Body mosturisers: With shea butter and non fragance? Extremely dry skin, use in combination with body oil? Sensitive skin, use non-fragrance in combination with natural perfume extract? (Decisions!) Makeup: Mineral or non mineral? Anti animal testing or no? Glossy or matte? (Arrgh..decisions!)

On top of that, which brand?? Loccitane? Darphin? Prescriptives? Shu Uemura? Dermalogica? Ren? NARS? Napoleon? Utowa? Kevin Aucoin? Kiehls? Decleor? Revive? Bobbi Brown? There are like 1000 brands out there selling the same thing packaged under different brands and like doing a thesis, I spent many a nights researching a particular product and understanding the benefits and alternatives should the product are only used for specific reasons. It’s like a full time job, but understandably I did enjoy it. With the loot that I had purchased today, I calculated that I need to spend at least 3 hours a day to step out of my apartment looking almost immaculate. Well, I said ‘almost’, didn’t i…

Granted that 3 hours is for lazy and slower arse like me who’s still a juvenile hair dryer and hair straightener user, I spent like forever shampooing, conditioning, drying, blow drying & straightening my hair. On top of that, I managed to squeeze in a face mask and a hydrating hot rose oil bath. Talk about indulgence, but I doubt i can keep this up. It just takes too much effort to look better, that I probably had to resign to being plain old Jane and get on with life. But each time I resigned to such thought, a dear friend’s glaring mantra blinked through my head giving me warning signs of “There’s no ugly girls, just LAZY girls. Now, get working!” (repeat x10).

It puts a smile on my face and I now do all these things to the tune of Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy” yelling on the top of my lungs “Craaazzzzzzyyyy……….”. Honestly, the things that we girls put ourselves through to look our best, sigh…But, as the mega commercialised proverbial would advise us female mortals – “Because, you’re worth it”. Go figure..

Filed under: Uncategorized

Hello you..

Getting acquainted with the self again is indeed a great experience. It’s such a good feeling having yourself back. And that’s what I have been feeling since I got back from my 3 weeks hiatus in Malaysia. Back with a feisty short haircut which apparently took off an additional 5 years from my face. Perfect.

I strolled into work feeling much more relax and at ease than usual, probably due to my new haircut or my new zen lifestyle. Peppermint tea in the morning and ylang ylang in replaced of heavy commercial perfumes. Took my lunch time seriously by going out and taking in the fresh spring breeze and sunshine. Trying to get into the mode of doing lunchtime run and on a totally unrelated note, paying more attention to coordinate my wardrobe with the color of my shoes give me great pleasure. I might sound like a bimbotic soulless chick, but coming from me this is such a welcomed change. Nothing like doing little things to give the self a break from the militaristic chain of thoughts centred around the what need not/should not/required to be done.

Before I left, I felt like a survivor of a train wreck. Like a walking tragedy. It was an aghasting period to know what you put yourself through, but to really be able to savor the good times that come out from a period of harshness is so precious now. The parable of “winter turning into spring” etched deeply in my heart became more than a favourite quotation. It sprung into life like a hibernated flower blooming its first petal from its growing bud on the first of september. Giving birth to life, and it’s a totally wondrous experience.

There’s a gnawing fear of losing these moments of sacred happiness, but i suppose being human and it all the cycles of lives are one which we are part of. To maintain our life conditions are one of the hardest thing to do, however it’s worth fighting for. It’s worth fighting on an everyday basis to be able to greet your true self every morning in the mirror and say “hello you”.

And see yourself back, and not the shadow of your self.

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Hope personified?

I started the blog with an expression of determination, but having the time to sieve through the various postings over the past several months, the content of my writings seemed to contradict my aspiration to express hope triumphing over all struggles. There were loads of ambiguities. Unspoken air of melancholy. Solemn expressions mostly prevailed. It was a case of hope devoid.

I then thought that this needs to be revived. So much time was wasted indulging in the many mistakes, unfounded and missed opportunities. Strength is not developed from self-exile, but manifested from being free and open even to people who may judge us. Courage is a decision to be so, and so is happiness. I think there’s lots of emptiness and vacuum inside of me, but that has to change now.

I read somewhere on a certain blogspace that “the experience of grief is a great gift….for the heart that breaks is just opening again.” I want to recover from this, and while doing so tell a story. For now and the many steps to come, I want to live my life with my standards, and run my own race. I want to raise my head high even with my own weaknesses and the many deficiencies i may possess.

Each step of the way will be an expression of hope personified. Regardless. This is my determination.

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