Random Ramblings 2

There is always this feeling of tranquillity when I hear the Azan. I think I speak for every Muslim about that. I heard Azan Zuhur at lunchtime on the radio. I was having trouble at work in the morning and when I heard the Azan, I felt my worries just drain away, easily flowing away.

The Azan gave me wider perspective. Suddenly all the worries of the world are not that big anymore. Suddenly I was reminded that there is a bigger force to life, which is God. And He decides. I felt I was giving away my problems to him, que sera sera, for Him to decide, as I do not have the power or will to change more than what I have already changed. And that two minutes was the best minutes of my day today.

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Another thing that has brought calmness in me recently is my working out! I have been jogging (ok, fine...brisk walking) this whole month and with each step I took, I felt released from the stress I’m in. On top of that, I’ll have a fab bod in 2 more months! Makes me smile...

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This year, many of the people I despise at work have left my working proximity. First was this horrible colleague who was able to cause us trouble in everyway. Forgetting deadlines? Always. Forgetting to return calls? Yup, as he was never in the office. Took more leave than anybody else? Oh boy, he did it. Dump all his work to his colleagues? Yup. Dumped his work to his colleagues and take credit for a job well done? Too many times. Well, he left about a month ago, and truthfully speaking, our workload here at the company did not change. It was the same as before. That means that he never contributed to the company. The only good thing about him leaving is the fact that the office is quieter (he has a big mouth) and that we finally can take credit from the work we do.

Another idiot leaving us is my ex boss (boohoo!). He gave me hell when I reported to him. He told me that my writing is bad (I know...stupid of him ain’t it?) and that I had an ‘attitude’. Cheh. Try having himself as a boss. Then I’ll be sure you’d see a different side of you you haven’t seen before. Blergh. (My GM also hated him, as he has never shown good work, basically). He was so sick of me he’d hurt me in many ways he could, he made me cry and made me feel like crap. When I left to work with another boss, I heard my ex GM gave him bad end of year assessment and treated him like crap, which is what I think he deserved. Music to my ears was when I heard he was leaving the company to start his own business. Let’s see how well the business will go..or will not go...

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I don’t like sweet stuff. Cakes, ice cream, chocolates, caramel (urgh!). Well I don’t really hate them though. I just do nor prefer them. The reason why I’m fat is because I dig fried-to-perfection and santan based stuff, boohoo. I’m blaming my Minang side for that. They introduced me to ayam goreng rempah, daging cincang, rendang minang, masak lemak cili api...yumm!!! I can’t imagine living without those things. I even sometimes eat roti canai or mee goreng with kuah rendang. Yummers!

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Random Ramblings

I don’t understand the relevance of acting the opposite way you feel, particularly when you’re feeling sad. Like a song suggested: ‘Smile through your heart is aching, smile, even though it’s breaking’. Why torture yourself? I have tried and failed.
I somehow cannot force my facial muscles to form a smile when my eyes are getting teary. Nature has decided that a teary eye goes together with a pout or a frown, not a smile. Maybe what the songs suggests is for us to stay positive throughout the struggles in our lives. Well, we will, as soon as we have dried up our tears and gain rationality, which may take from an hour to 3 days.

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I went out for lunch with my officemates, who are all male yesterday. Then, in the middle of our meal, we were joined by two other men, one a driver and one (later I learned) a lab assistant whom I have never met before. The assistant came and sat next to me, with guess what? -A breast silicone. In his hands. ‘Look’, he said, holding it up for the table to see. And see was what the table did. ‘This is a breast implant. There was an actress who came by our hospital yesterday and had this silicone implanted’, he said. My friends started asking questions about the silicone and the actress and then a few jokes were exchanged. I listened but did not find anything amusing. I thought the only thing worth laughing at is this assistant who actually held the silicone in his hands even to lunch, just to show it around. A true attention seeker and pervert indeed. Either those or he is just a plain idiot looking for a few minutes of fame.

I continued my lunch and became very quiet. The assistant started squeezing and playing with the silicone in his hand. And then I gave him the look. And he shot back, ‘Eh, there’s a lady here and she’s mad about this’, hoping that the table replied to his statement with a few laughs or giggles, but he was only disappointed when my friends only kept quiet. He kept playing with the silicone all through lunch and desert.

I was baffled by this assistant’s behaviour. Why did he carry that silicone around? Firstly, it belongs to the hospital. Secondly, don’t you look stupid carrying it around? Or maybe he thought that looking stupid is nothing compared to the fame he gets when people start asking questions about the silicone and the sizzling details about the actress who had them implanted the day before. No one can get shallower than that

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I hate people with baby-like manner. The sulking, the tantrums, the I-want-what-I-want-and-I-want-it-now attitude and the constant nagging/complaining. Why? Because I’m a baby myself and I hate when people around me wants to be babied like me. I guess that’s why I’m always picking a fight with my youngest nephew because he is such a baby and does all the things that only I am allowed to do-babying. Sigh...I know, I know...I’m shallow. I’m trying to grow it off.

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I was driving to work in a drizzle one day and saw a few people standing at the bus stop. They couldn’t sit because the seats are all wet and they are tugging their skirts and pants from the puddles of water on the ground. All that brought me back to the days when I was like them. Come rain or humid sun, I’ll be there, waiting for the bus, always in a restless mood. But I went through it day by day and I had no complaints.

During my bus days, I wake up at 5.30 am, cooked breakfast/lunch for my dad, started walking at 6.30 am to a bus stop at 1.5km away from my house and waited for the bus that was never on time. On top of that, I had to work with bosses with medical degrees and had very high expectations of me, even though I was only a temp clerk.

I wondered then, when I was in my car, staring at the people at the bus stop, how in the world did I survive what I survived back then, with me being a (self-proclaimed) baby. Not to say that what I went through was hugely super, some people have been through worse than I did. But it was my own battle-my bus-days, and I won it. I am proud and at the same time I’m praying that I won’t take everything I have now (that I haven’t had before) for granted. So even though I might be a baby to some people, when the time needs me to toughen up, toughen up I can, and will.
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Shakened Heart

The tremble turned into whispers of fear
And suddenly the heart ponders for more
Hearing more than the soul can bear
I silent my senses sore

The plan was for you to always be
As we applaud your taking of another strike
By the lashers and the dense
By the bitter and the lame

Why is time being everything but kind
Why can’t its heavy hands weigh down the rushing tick
That sent the fate too soon
That asked him to hush that afternoon

They have sent you back
They have tucked you in
But the trembles continue
And the whispers prominent

You left them alone now
With their words not celebrated
By your yet again blunder
Or your yet again innocence

But the heart sores and will continue to
As I am reluctantly reminded
By your absence now and again
By your tale now and again
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These Foolish Hands

How foolish were my hands
That they crave to be in yours
When I walked, when I shivered, when I wanted more than words

At night you hold me in your arms
To not lose me to my dreams, you said
You entertained my worries
You tolerated my carelessness

You always knew what to say, how to make me smile
In return, I caused you heartbreak and disappointment
But I have always loved you
I don’t know how not to

If I had to choose a Dad
I would choose you all over again
If there was another time
I’d choose to be there, with you

How foolish are my eyes now
For wanting to see you again
How foolish am I now
Feeling scared, needing to have my hands in yours.
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Untitled

There are times when she wished
Her heart was fuller than it is
And there are times when the wish comes true

And many a time in the nights
She asked God whether she was worthy of His givings
Of His permission to be happy and declare it

And then there are times
When too many broken promises made her ache in places
She didn’t know she had inside her

All that and many a time
She learned that what she finds isn’t always hers
And what she loses isn’t always lost

-December '08
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Isn’t it just wonderful

Nothing beats the feeling of being in love, is there? When Matt Nathanson said, ‘If I could walk on water, if I could tell you what’s next, make you believe and make you forget’, he must be in love.

When it hurts to not be around him, when his silence is your sleepless night and when his touch brings 40 kinds of happiness, then you know you’re in love.

And then there’ll be times when you walk with every step remembering him, talk of everything that reminds you of him, and see the beauty in everything the day brings you, you’re in love.

And to finally know that you’re not alone anymore, that someone can actually love you for what makes you and forgives your past and takes you now, for the future, then suddenly the tantrums of the heart subside.

And to be able to look forward to tomorrow, just because you’d be spending it with him...

Isn’t it just wonderful
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Praying To 'Win'

The first time I read this story was when I was 15, when I was still struggling to build my inner strength after my mother passed two years before. Wanting to be helpful, my very worried, eldest sister handed me a few books to comfort the soul. One of the many stories I read that stuck with me was this one, as its lesson I carry to this day. Enjoy.

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Title : Praying To 'Win'
Author : Unknown

My son Gilbert was eight years old and had been in Cub Scouts only a short time. During one of his meetings he was handed a sheet of paper, a block of wood and four tires and told to return home and give all to "dad."

That was not an easy task for Gilbert to do. Dad was not receptive to doing things with his son. But Gilbert tried.

Dad read the paper and scoffed at the idea of making a pine wood derby car with his young, eager son. The block of wood remained untouched as the weeks passed.

Finally, mom stepped in to see if I could figure this all out. The project began.

Having no carpentry skills, I decided it would be best if I simply read the directions and let Gilbert do the work. And he did. I read aloud the measurements, the rules of what we could do and what we couldn't do.

Within days his block of wood was turning into a pinewood derby car. A little lopsided, but looking great (at least through the eyes of mom).

Gilbert had not seen any of the other kids cars and was feeling pretty proud of his "Blue Lightning," the pride that comes with knowing you did something on your own.

Then the big night came. With his blue pinewood derby in his hand and pride in his heart we headed to the big race.

Once there my little one's pride turned to humility. Gilbert's car was obviously the only car made entirely on his own. All the other cars were a father-son partnership, with cool paint jobs and sleek body styles made for speed.

A few of the boys giggled as they looked at Gilbert's, lopsided, wobbly, unattractive vehicle. To add to the humility Gilbert was the only boy without a man at his side. A couple of the boys who were from single parent homes at least had an uncle or grandfather by their side, Gilbert had "mom."

As the race began it was done in elimination fashion. You kept racing as long as you were the winner. One by one the cars raced down the finely sanded ramp.

Finally it was between Gilbert and the sleekest, fastest looking car there. As the last race was about to begin, my wide eyed, shy eight year old ask if they could stop the race for a minute, because he wanted to pray. The race stopped.

Gilbert hit his knees clutching his funny looking block of wood between his hands. With a wrinkled brow he set to converse with God.

He prayed in earnest for a very long minute and a half. Then he stood, smile on his face and announced, "Okay, I am ready."

As the crowd cheered, a boy named Tommy stood with his father as their car sped down the ramp. Gilbert stood with God within his heart and watched his block of wood wobble down the ramp with surprisingly great speed and rushed over the finish line a fraction of a second before Tommy's car.

Gilbert leaped into the air with a loud "Thank you" as the crowd roared in approval.

The Scout Master came up to Gilbert with microphone in hand and asked the obvious question, "So you prayed to win, huh, Gilbert?"

To which my young son answered, "Oh, no sir. That wouldn't be fair to ask God to help you beat someone else. I just asked Him to make it so I don't cry when I lose."

Children seem to have a wisdom far beyond us. Gilbert didn't ask God to win the race, he didn't ask God to fix the outcome, Gilbert asked God to give him strength in the outcome.

When Gilbert first saw the other cars he didn't cry out to God, "No fair, they had a fathers help."

No, he went to God for strength.

Perhaps we spend too much of our prayer time asking God to rig the race, to make us number one, or too much time asking God to remove us from the struggle, when we should be seeking God's strength to get through the struggle.

Gilbert's simple prayer spoke volumes to those present that night. He never doubted that God would indeed answer his request. He didn't pray to win, thus hurt someone else, he prayed that God supply the grace to lose with dignity.

Gilbert, by his stopping the race to speak to God also showed the crowd that he wasn't there without a "dad," but God was most definitely there with him. Yes, Gilbert walked away a winner that night, with God at his side.
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