car troubles and my bestie :)

you know that feeling inside when you call your best friend and ask how to open your car bonnet? and ask  them wear to find the bonnet popping lever in YOUR car? imagine that added on by the fact that you called them in their first nap in 32 hrs after a long day... yea, that's how i feel right now. just a little more than lucky and grateful :)

p/s: i also hung up and then called back to find out how to close my car bonnet properly. man KV has patience! ;)

parenting 101 #2 ;)

Economics 101

You know the thing about the Cs ? Cash, Condo, Car, Credit card? It's overrated. It means financial commitment and short tempers. Why did barter trading fail again?:P

photo courtesy of bizaims.com

picture courtesy of google :-|

illusions vs disillusionment

I found this on the web some place. but life without illusions durnt mean much do it? ;) without illusions we wouldnt dare dream, and there'd be less hope and drive to move forward... but on the other hand,  the shattering of illusions is a very real painful process

ikan bakar - fish grilled in banana leaves, covered in spicy marinate

Rathi was not sure why she was there. She knew she liked spending time with him, he had the right balance of light hearted humour and awkward charm. She knew she liked sharing odd details with him. She also knew of his taste in girls and that she was nowhere near that range.

She stared at a back that was becoming fast becoming familiar to her. He had his blazer off and was wearing a light blue work shirt with small white stripes. Rathi looked away and waited for him to take the escalator down one floor to where she stood – Baskin Robbins.

“I should play it cool,” she thought to herself and decided she would be all grown up about it. Instead she turned and smiled as he walked along the row of shops towards her. She did not realize it then but she was smiling for a good five minutes, taking in his slightly rolling gait, the slight stubble and his loafers.

“So what’s the plan?” he asked as he walked up to her.

“Dinner would be good,” Rathi said a bit stupidly. “Ikan bakar?” she added quickly, trying to save a measure of dignity.

“Ok, suggestions as to where? The best ikan bakar I know of is right here in this mall.” His smile was slow and Rathi was pretty certain he had no clue as to what it was doing to her insides. At least she hoped he did not.

“There’s this place in Damansara. I think. Went there once and I’ve yet to find a place better than that. How? Ok ah?”

James shrugged. “The thing is I parked over at the Gardens. You don’t mind the walk, do you?”

Rathi laughed. “Sure beats taking the commuter.”

They walked along, chatting about nothing much in particular. They spoke about Baskin Robbins and about how he once donned a pink hairband and another friend flashed a pink bra to get the Wednesday discount and Rathi wondered in a small corner of her mind if she had ever owned a pink bra.

Then they got to the car park and James was frowning. “I think I parked on this side,” he said a bit hesitantly and led the way up the ramp and then stopped short. The look on his face as he turned around was so comical it made Rathi laugh in bed for months to come. “The car’s on the other side.” They walked back down the ramp and took the ramp leading to the oppsite side of the car park.

James tried to keep a straight face but he could see the flicker of a laugh on the face of the small woman he was with. He led her to his pride and joy, a red Ford, as old as him, but somehow intimately connected to each of his phases of life. He watched as she pressed her hand against the windshield at a McD’s drivethru sticker.

“So you have this and have yet to stick your roadtax, eh?” she asked quizzically.

“A man’s gotta get his priorities in life right, you know?” James grinned as she laughed a most unladylike laugh and told her a patchy history of his Ford and how it had covered 1000km within the KL-selangor radius within a week more than once.

Rathi smiled and inside she wondered again why he went through so much of trouble for other people and why they hardly knew anything about him as a person. Everything people had said about him being a lady’s man could be true, but all she saw was a pretty normal guy who she liked whiling away the hours with.

She noticed his firm grip on the steering, the relaxed manner with which he shifted gear. She blinked a bit and turned to look out of the window to stop herself from staring and remembering ridiculous details like his stubby fingers with squarish nails or the strong chin or short thick eyelashes.

“Ok so we’re at Damansara uptown, now where is it?”

Rathi squinted at the buildings. “This is where Farah works and did you know 99 Speedmart has the cheapest milk powder?” Saying that she kicked herself inwardly. Way to go to impress a guy, talk grocery shopping list with him. “Let me get the directions, ok? I know there’s a Famous Amos shop opposite the hawker centre.”

James frowned a bit as she asked for directions and grinned when she said she had directed him to the wrong place. They were supposed to go to SS2.

“Oh my God, did you just get me lost in my own backyard? The irony…” the melodrama in his voice made them laugh. He pulled over to the side of the road and Rathi watched as he determinedly tapped on his phone screen and GoogleMapped the hawker centre.

Twenty minutes later they were seated under the KL sky, yellow bulbs shining overhead as they tucked into ikan bakar, claypot chicken rice and popiah nyonya. She remembered his need to drown the fish in sambal and his ironic humour as he recounted work to her. They laughed over common friends and how their friends were convinced that something was up between the two of them.

As James laughed it off, Rathi told him how he was supposedly dating two other women at the same time, all mere speculations and how she had told a friend that it was his life and he could date whomever he fancied. She listened as to how he had developed feelings for one and was best friends with the other. She remembered how each guy friend she had ever known had fallen head over heels for both of these girls. Rathi looked down a bit self-consciously at her yellowed nails; yellowed from the saffron she had rubbed into the fish she had cooked earlier in the day. She could feel her appetite lessening as he described how those two girls were every guy’s dream girls and Rathi was enthralled. “So that was definitely his type of girl, eh?” she thought to herself.  

“So leaving on Wednesday, huh?” his sudden question brought her out of her reverie.

“Yup,” she replied, nodding. “It has been a good summer, you’ve made it a bit more interesting.”

James’ expression was unreadable as they drove back. They were racing against the clock as he had an appointment with his mother. His phone rang and he picked up.

“Which girl you with now?” Rathi could hear his mother ask teasingly on the phone. “Amma will be a bit late, Aiya,” she heard her say.

“It’s OK, Amma, I’ll just hang out with my friend a bit longer.” Saying that he hung up, smiled at Rathi and made a U-turn at the traffic light. “Let’s maximize our time together, shall we?”

Rathi laughed and wondered if he knew how charming his subtle wit was. They drove back to PJ and swapped stories on PJ outings, his more social oriented, Rathi’s a bit more commonplace.

“You do realize we’re going around this roundabout for a second time, right?” Rathi pointed out.

“Ah, damn, you noticed,” his voice was light. “It’s just nice, driving around, I do it at times.”

“Indicator’s still on,” Rathi said and smiled at the flash of annoyance in the corner of his eye. It felt shockingly comfortable, spending time with this person she was just getting to know.

His phone rang again. He was to go get his mum in fifteen minutes.

The drive back was relatively silent, each lost in thought.

“The white gate,” Rathi said, aware that she might never see him again. “Thanks for dinner, twas good.”

He held out his hand. “I’ll see you around, then.”

Rathi stared at that hand for a while then smiled and reached out for an awkward half hug. She felt the slightest sense of relief as he hugged her back and then they drew apart and she opened the door. She was about to close it again, but then bent down and said seriously, “You still owe me Vitagen you know, I guessed your passion for cars and interest in photography without even knowing you.”

His slow smile wreaked the same havoc on her insides and she gripped the car door a bit more firmly. “You should have reminded me, next time OK?”

Rathi nodded, not trusting herself to answer.

She closed the door and waved. The car did not move. She sighed. He was obviously one of the few guys left that wouldn’t leave until she was safe inside the house. She locked the gate and watched the red car move away.

“Hi, Farah,” she said a bit listlessly, suddenly feeling empty. “Gonna change.” Rathi went into her room and sat on the edge of her bed. So what if she did not see him anymore, she would still try and keep in contact with him. Being his friend was all she wanted, right? Not like he would look at her in any other way. But why had he made that U-turn and that unneeded roundabout circling? What was that? Was that how he was with all the girls? Rathi shook her head.

“Stop over analyzing. He’s being a friend, hopefully enjoying your company as much as you enjoy his,” she muttered under her breath. She giggled as she remembered how she had gotten a hug back.

45 minutes later she dialed his number. “Back home safe?” she asked him.

“Yup, made it just before the weekend jam. What’s plans for the night?”

They kept talking for a while more and as they shared stories and she told him how she was checking out his ex-girlfriends, he wondered what was going on. He decided he’d just go with the flow. After all she was leaving in a few days, and she was the nerd of the group. No way in hell she was developing an attachment for him. She had already established that she did not believe in relationships and had even ‘promoted’ one of her childhood friends as someone he should consider for a serious relationship. Serious relationship. Like he needed one right now. Or ever.

Somehow Rathi’s direct interest in him had a sort of magnetic pull. There was no guile there, at least none he could sense. She was a strange person, hardly the run of the mill girl people fell for. Eh wait what was he thinking. He smiled and went to do his laundry, trying to understand why Rathi kept talking to him or texting him or why he did the same. Boredom, perhaps?

The next morning when he woke up, he looked at his phone. No text message yet. Then his phone vibrated. It was from Rathi. He smiled as he read the message. It was nice to have a friend by him day in and day out. He remembered telling her how he had not texted or called anyone this much since his last relationship. He remembered how he had said it in passing but had looked at her for a response.

It would never work, whatever it is they were playing at. But for as long as it made them both happy, he’d keep at it. It was not as if either of them was looking for anything serious.

Prologue: James and Rathi are currently dating, nothing serious, just taking things as they come. But they’ve worked out a confidant system and have reached the you-annoy-me-lah stage and are still there in each other’s faces day in and day out. Neither one believes in relationships up till today.

*disclaimer: similarities to real events and people living or dead is almost purely coincidental

Bear :)

from http://politicalhumor.about.com/od/funnypictures/ig/Funny-Global-Warming-Pictures/Polar-Bear-Global-Warming.htm

All my hairs stood on end and that was saying much as there is a reason people call me the Bear, and it has nothing to do with my low scratchy voice.. :-|

The air was thick with moisture and I watched in bemusement as the air fogged up as I spoke to my cousins. The tea plantations were a shade of green I have never seen before and there was a sweetish odour to the air, quite unlike the processed tea leaves I had been so accustomed to.

As my mother and uncles reminisced, pointing out places where they had made memories during their childhoods, as they recalled their Father and how he had been a man of standards, I felt a bit more proud of my family. I mean how many families took the effort to organize an outing on a frequent basis like we did? At a time when family values were being queried, I could be certain that I come from a background that reassures me that family is the core of a person’s being.

Then my phone beeped. It was a message: Wer bear voice.. Three words spoke volumes. It hit me that as much as my family needed me, there was another soul out there, quite unconnected by blood, that for reasons I’ve yet to fathom has formed an attachment to me.

Twenty minutes later as we stopped for lunch, I excused myself and called that other soul. As much as she made it clear that she needed me and wanted me in each part of each day, I do too. For only God knows what reason, we’ve become a part of each other’s lives. Sometimes I feel she believes she’s already family, but I always knew she was a little strange even before I started dating her :P

By the way, this was when I was at Camerons ;)

- by a Beary Cold Guest Writer

Tapping the vein, looking for a juicy one, my head spinning from the turmoil of the previous night, I still smile as my phone beeps. I've got you to go home to, see. Then I think back on the previous night.  Blood taking is very mechanical, small talk required, but it gives room for the tired mind to wander.

The patient was desaturating, 'Tukar high flow mask' I say after listening for ronchi or prolonged expiration. The nurses are well versed, they've already set up the crash cart and he's on the cardiac monitor. 'Boss, I'd like to inform you...' I say over the phone not knwing the patient's going into asystole. I rush back and climb onto the bed to do the chest compressions which many people argue is life saving, but in most cases I've seen it's more of a life prolongation. GCS dropping,intubation required, the MO has arrived. Fluid already being run, patient maxed out on triple ionotropes we get a bradycardic pulse. Arms heavy from fatigue we scramble off the bed and squint at the monitor. Is that a rhythm? Do we need atropine? Then heart rate becomes zero again and we do chest compressions again, patient's heart is stubbornly in asystole. 30 minutes, 40 minutes, the surrounding patients are hushed, suffering qualms of fear at the impending death of a fellow ward-mate.

I don't want my loved ones to spend their last few minutes like that. I've seen enough in the last few months. I feel the helplessness of family and slight glint of (?misplaced) hope as we ask them to stay outside while we resuscitate. Up to today I still tear each time it happens.

As the rib cage becomes more yielding under our persistent compressions, and the pupils become fixed dilated from a previous sluggish response over 2 days, we know our chnaces are slim for the patient to wake up and smile at his family. We know. We tell the family. DIL issued we say. Dia sudah tak ader  we say. Tindakbalas terhadap rawatan sangat kurang, jangkitan kumannya kuat sangat. Each time I say it something twists inside of me. Could we have done more? It's a life. It's a person someone else loves.

I don't want my loved ones to go with an NAR, nor do I want them to have tubes stuck down their throats or central lines flushed with drugs that give us a false impression of haemodynamic stability. I dont want their last active thought to be that of a tired medical worker shining a torch into their pupils or palpating their carotids. I dont want people to stick grey branulas into their groin area as they try for femoral lines when the BP is already spiralling downwards. I dont want them to suffer. But I will be damned if I signed an NAR and didnt try for that slight possibility that I might spend another 2 minutes with someone I care for.

Essentially to me, that's what CPR is. a temporary prolongation of live, and thne if God willing and the patient has what it takes, he/she survives and we medical workers have one less heartache. Don't be fooled. We feel for each person we care for,  whether he's an innocent or crimina, whether he's rich or old, or whether we like him/her or not.

So yes, I am against NAR, unless the prognosis is really horrendously bad. Until then, keep resuscitating. I prefer my people alive.

outlet

She’s the one that ignited that spark, the one with the approval of close knit friends. I’m the one you’re dating today. I cant listen to 3 doors down without wondering if each time you sing along to it you think of what could have been.

I know she’s the one that could have been. I am the one that is.

I am the one you talk to about toilet habits and she’s the one who took the wind out of your sails.

If you remember correctly, I’m the one people said don’t date. They asked and I quote: “You sure ah dei..?”

Think I am overreacting? But if 2 yrs after the fact there’re still suggestive comments about what you and she could have been or might still have in between, I beg to differ. The silent support of friends and innocuous teasings might be in  light humour, but isn’t there an ounce of truth to each ‘Just joking la bro..’?

If I had gone out on a few casual dates with someone else from a close circle of friends and now years later, people still think I should try hooking up with that guy, I dare you to look me in the eye and say ‘I wouldn’t be insecure’ .

Rationalization would say you’re with me because you want to. Rationalization would also ask why. I work 68hr weeks with barely enough energy to hold a conversation with you 6 days out of 7, and when we do talk we end up squabbling. She’s the sort of girl that would stop traffic and I’m probably on the other side of the kerb when it comes to personal charms.

If you say it’s coz I care it helps somewhat. But rationalization would also be able to show you that  anyone can care for you the way I do. It’s not that hard to like you and it gets easier from that point on to keep caring deeper.

She could make Superman weak and eager to spend time with her. I'm the one who keeps talking to you to spend time with you even when you'd rather be doing other things.

That said and done I’ll be around till the day you decide otherwise. Laying my cards on the table plain and clear. 

Since you work with facts I laid 'em out. Since we both know I have a tendency to let emotions rule, let me say this. It hurts. Like shit. Every single time. I thought it would lessen with time and I've learned how to numb myself to it to a certain extent. But this New Year seems to have brought it back out with a reality like the jagged edges of a rusting penknife. 

I don't blame your friends, I don't blame you. I should be out there proving I deserve you instead of her but there are so many rules and limitations. And what do I have to up against her? It's not a competition but if you were to put us both on a shelf, the more logical choice would be blatantly clear to a blind man. 

Am just taking it one day at a time and laying my cards out in plain view. Forgive the occasional outlets but saying it out or in this case writing it cant be much worse than holding it in.

I ask again: would you rather be with the one that got away? Because the last thing I want is to hold you back from something that could make you a happier more fulfilled person.

**disclaimer: the above is dramatisation for the sake of emotional release ;)**

101 :)

09.07.2011

http://inbaraj.com/ninthjuly/

Over

The semester, my undergrad life. New beginnings, continuations, whichever way I want my loved ones there each day. God willing..

Apologising

...doesnt always put you in the wrong, nor does loyalty prove you the better person. There's always a grey area and if you wanna sleep soundly at night, you've gotta work it out and not let it fester.

Backbone

Roadside food in Istanbul as we trekked along the tramline. Turkey's famous for the coffee, hibiscus tea, gelatine icecreams that don't melt and of course their version of kebab/shaurmas, baklavas and a variety of mouth watering nut-filled sweets... but roadside food always excites me more for some reason :)

Reconstruction at the Hagia Sophia Museum, and below is the God of the Rivers, Poseidon. the fact that these sculptures and archaelogical restorations happen on an everyday basis and the painstaking way in which it is done inspired awe in us, a bunch of twenty something impatients ;)

The Cisterna Basilica has the capacity to store 100,000 tons of water but holds only a few feet of water lining the bottom today. The cistern is surrounded by a firebrick wall with a thickness of 4 metres (13 ft) and coated with a waterproofing mortar. The ceiling is supported by a forest of 336 marble columns. Located in the northwest corner of the cistern, the bases of two columns reuse blocks carved with the visage of Medusa. Tradition has it that the blocks are oriented sideways and inverted in order to negate the power of the Gorgons' gaze, however it is widely thought that they were placed sideways and upside down only to be the proper size to support their columns. (excerpt from wikipedia)


Me with my love for folklore, I'm swayed in the direction of the Gorgon story, though rationally thinking, physics would be a more important factor when considering the force of holding up the ceiling and pure pressure from the mass amount of water that used to be contained here.


My earlier post covered the more popular tourist destinations, these are just the knick knacks that slip in between but I want to remember 20 years down the road from now. This post is severely delayed I know, but I finally got the time to do it today, so here it is.. :)

Malaysia

Six years overseas in an institution that has been under the constant scrutiny of the MQA and I’m heading home this summer anyway. I could have opted to take the Kaplan Step-2 and move to the states. At least they have a sense of humour there. Their president was accused of being an illegal immigrant and he recently laughed it off by showing a video clip from the opening of the Lion King. Despite heavy criticism he’s one step closer to healthcare reform, and the withdrawal of the troops and the lack of pomp with which he did it won over even my reluctant vote. I used to think the US was overrated, not worth the respect they garnered at times, but I realized that one man does make a world of difference. Bush’s America and Obama’s America are worlds apart.

Am I less of a patriot of thinking highly of the West? I think not.

Sure we hit the global media for ridiculous things like ‘taking the gay out of our young men’, backyard trash like cowhead stepping and Molotov cocktails being thrown into mosque grounds. Sure we’re famous for things like hotel raids during Valentine’s day, armed robbery in broad daylight, racial bigotry, political voyeurism, and blind support of local industries at the expense of crazy import duties, less than efficient fuel consumption and generic versions of Lancers and Mitsubishis on our roads.

I definitely sound like am slandering my own nation here, but bear with me. Like I was saying, this summer, I still am heading home to quirky Malaysia.

You see, I spent 3 of my 6 years here with a Muslim roommate, something you would have never seen in a local university hostel. Trust me, my elder siblings, they were ‘placed at random’ and they all ended up with Indian roommates in their local public universities. When my roomamate and I split ways, it was due to personal issues, nothing religious. She prayed 5 times a day, and read from the Quran each night, and I sang my Hindu devotional songs and occasionally even lit incense sticks during major celebrations. She didn’t mind me eating pork, nor did I mind her eating beef. She comes from a traditional Malay family, and I from a traditional Tamil one.  We’re still close friends, classmates, and occasional shopping buddies despite having had our differences.

When the MQA decided to get international recognition, and PSD decided to review its scholarship awarding, though I may not benefit from either…  in the first case because I stand a risk of being careerless, and in the second because having completed my university education, I no longer stand a chance of gaining a JPA scholarship… I began to hope. The MQA review, suspension of civil servant hiring for 3 months seems to hold promise of a fairer system based on merit rather than racial quota. I am not saying please impoverish one race, I am saying choose people who are eligible for the job, those with necessary skill and the motivation to improve themselves. Since our Public Health is in such a state, a qualification exam would be disastrous to the 3000 odd Russian and Ukrainian Medical graduates, yes, but if it means it’s for a less biased, more efficient medical workforce, then why the heck not. Here’s to hoping there isn’t a quota on that as well though.. coz if there is, a lot of us would be royally f**ked. And on the PSD scholarship, awarding overseas scholarships should be based on merit. Admittedly it should have been discussed within the Cabinet to prevent rumours of a divided BN, but I think it was a gutsy move, transparent, and it got almost immediate results. As opposed to our annual dilemma about top scorers not being awarded government scholarships to pursue their field of interest, maybe this will give us a real solution to the problem instead of a temporary settlement when it makes headlines about how the top scorer who was missed by the system finally got a scholarship to Ireland to pursue Actuarial Science.

So yes am disillusioned, but I still carry a spark of hope that someday, Malaysians will tell race politics to go get a real job, and we might live together as a real community. Where people would rather come home and not choose to hold jobs overseas as opposed to a true career at home because they have given up with racial stereotypes and lack fair opportunities to be all they can be.

Someday perhaps... someday…

That is why am going home. Because I still have hope for Malaysia…

Untitled

Pride and Vanity

I want you to know…

There are times you leave me in a quandry

Times when I realize you need more than me

And at those times I cannot explain the unease

The wire-bound tightness in my chest;

The tears of dull-toned hurt that fail to flow;

And the choking breaths that barely escape…

The beating mass in the centre of me,

That pump made of muscle so strong

Is in truth just weak…

The persistent flutters as it yearns too much

To be all that you want, the one thing you need?

That my friend is just pride and vanity

Wesak

Happy Wesak to all who celebrate :) missing the orange robes, sanskrit chants and rotating water fans in the brickfields buddhist mahavira..

The Kitchen Business

*WARNING: Do not read if you are vegetarian, or have a particularly sensitive stomach :)

Y was smiling, telling me about how she planned to cook the chicken, what she had put into the marinade and it hit me that we were almost what we used to be – good friends.

We had met in Primary 1 – I think we were seated next to each other on the first day of class (I forget exactly…)

Then that day, almost two decades later, we stood in the same common kitchen; Y pushing the chicken aside and reaching for the basin with prawns in them, and I at the sink, gutting the awful fish that would be dinner.

“Yeah, I miss our markets, where the Aunty will de-scale, gut and cut up the fish into beautiful pieces,” I said over my shoulder at her, wincing inwardly at the slippery feel of the fish stomach lining that I was trying to remove.

“I know! And here, the marketing is a lot more expensive. It’s, what, more than double of the price we pay at home, plus the products aren’t exactly fresh, are they?” From the corner of my eye I saw her yanking off the head of an orange prawn which came off with a squishy sound, making us giggle.

I rinsed off the pieces of fish and took the twenty steps it takes me to get into my unit door where I unceremoniously stuffed the now clean and cut fish into my tiny refrigerator. 

“Where’s N?” Y asked me when I walked back into the kitchen.

“Sleeping, we finished at 4 this morning.” My roommate and I had been at another friend’s room, celebrating a birthday Malaysian style with a midnight rojak party after a major exam.

I half filled my pot with water and plopped the whole chicken in, waiting for it to defrost.

“Move over, Y.” I made my way to the other end of the kitchen and grabbed my cute little knife and started deveining the pile of headless prawns on her chopping board.

“You’re gonna die…!” Y said in a gruesome voice and snapped the head off the beady-eyed crustacean in her hand.

I concealed a smile. It felt good to have her friendship again. The last four years of awkwardness was fading away from my memory, that time when we had only said hi and exchanged formal pleasantries with each other.

Today, we aren’t exactly soul confidants to each other, but we can still depend on each other.

We have different groups of friends, but that is ay-oh-kay. We have become such different people, but we have somehow rediscovered how to click. That bond that had sprung between us during our school days apparently never really broke, it just got a bit frayed, and I have the kitchen and the time we spend in it to thank for realising that piece of truth.

               

Note: I discovered sometime ago that my Pakistani friends do not eat sea produce as they are not considered ‘halal’, which means that they’ve never tasted prawn/crab/shellfish before. They can eat fish though. I find that fascinating for some odd reason… Maybe it’s like a no pork, no beef thing in Muslims and Hindus and some Buddhists?