Saturday, July 28, 2007

it's a kampung life

So here’s where we get going with work. Wooo look at us with our laptops propped up and all. Kalah Wall Street stockbrockers-lho. Most of the time we’re just sok sibuk (pretend to be busy); we’re really playing Bejewelled 2 or exchanging rain… *cough* porn *cough* ... bow. I love the way our brows furrow as if the statistics are so murderous when really it’s to find that ch*ba* 3-jewel-in-a-row before time’s up.

It can get really mundane so sometimes the PHC staff gets together and roast sweet corn for kicks. I just come to eat. As you can see my hair is permanently up in an Alice band. I finally found a way to wear my bangs and not look so retarded. That was before it got straightened.

“Come on everybody! It’s time to party!” David Tutera would be so proud :)

Sometimes we have extra-curricular activities like excursions to camp sites. Our PHC doctor serves as a first-aid at the scouts camp. They travel around in the mobile village clinic which is really a village ambulance. Our PHC doctor is, like, THE NICEST CREATURE!! *bisou* worthy banget..

Thank goodness we weren’t sent to them mountains. I COULD DIE.

I thought tobacco plants looked like really big lettuce. Yet Indon tobaccos looks like papaya trees. Dunno-leh if my childhood memories tricked my brains.

Sometimes we go to posyandu which are really little immunization cum babies / children weigh-in cum pregnant ladies check-up parties where they bring little report books of what they have had done. Posyandu spots are usually very terpencil (deserted). That little man is showing us the way and the white stuff on the back of his bike are mini bags iodinized salt. I call him the Mr Garam Beryodium. The distribution of Iodinized Salt is part of the Posyandu health program. They are given out to mid-wives to be given out to the community.

I didn’t really comprehend their scale and the mechanics of how it would work. I know it’s the vegetable market sort where you balance out the weight of the baby with weights but all I see is a black plastic bag and rocks. I thought people in the Hang Tuah era does that sorta stuff?

Sealed with a kiss!

Friday, July 20, 2007

when is a great girl good enough?

Me a little happier. Got my bangs straightened in Anata Salon, Setiabudhi. It'll hold the fort momentarily and at least now I CAN get out. Going to the grocery store was such a chore with the unruly fringe. I cannot imagine my 'previous' life sans permanent hair-straightening. As you can see the el stupido didn't even cut it straight. Ah f*ck.

“But we have not hit the ground

Doesn't mean we're not still falling, oh I want so bad to pick you up

But you're still too reluctant to accept my help

What a shame I hope you find somewhere to place the blame

But until then the fact remains…"

We call this song Ah Ggies’ anthem. Firstly because he was the first person to point out this tune to me. We’re both suckers for melodramatic melancholia music. Secondly he used to play it over and over and over again in the car about a month back when he was going through a prickly phase involving 2 chicks one of which was his then-girlfriend-now-ex-girlfriend (you know who won huh *wink*). When people would accuse Ah Ggie to be such a player I never really believed them ‘till now. I suppose, with him being my kindred spirit and all, I still believed in the goodness of human. I always thought he was genuine with every chick he pursued. Just that they never seem to work out… with most of them having shelf-lives equivalent to a Gardenia loaf. This I find to be a pattern very familiar to those of the male species. I once asked him how come he can’t stop fluttering… the whole you’re-a-decent-guy-yet-how-is-it-that-you-can’t-seem-to-hold-down-a-woman. His response was that he can’t help it but have a need to search for the better girl. It’s embedded in his testosteronal instincts and he has no choice but to react on it.

How does a boy know that a girl is THE girl? Girls get deluded with LURRVE, fear-of-dying-alone and financial stability which accounts for probably almost all the marriages in the universe but boys don’t exactly have such similar requirements when it comes to choosing a partner of commitment, right? Am I… right *shrugs*? And with everyone having similar notions of the ratio of female to male being 4:1 (which I highly disagree, I once read somewhere that THIS FACT IS REALLY A MYTH but hey I stand corrected-lah) how can a man know that of all them vixens, that particular vixen he covet and will stay devoted to? I focus this mainly on men rather than women due to general demographics suggesting that men are more likely to have affairs in comparison to women. You hear the same lame old story where Married Man tells Young Secretary that he’s in love with her and that he hasn’t the wildest idea what gotten into him when he married THE WIFE. But didn’t he think then that THE WIFE was the best he could ever have? What gives him the impression that it’s still not so? According to Gym Class Heroes, “But Dad I’m finally thinking I may have found the one, the type of girl that’ll make you be proud of your son. And I know you heard the last song about the girls that didn’t last long. But I promise this is on a whole new plan, I can tell by the way she says my name. I mean she even cooks me pancakes / Rub in seltzer when my tummy aches / I love the way she calls my phone / Even got her very own ring tone. If that ain’t love then I don’t know what love is.” The male species has such a different (sayyy… primitive?) perspective of THE ONE, non?

They puzzle me and will continue to puzzle me. Like the fact that they claim they’re looking for a strong, dynamic woman that can help contribute to the household yet when that woman becomes a star at work they frown upon this circumstance and retreat into their little shell where they are free to bask in their own ego. Apart from the FAT issue, it’s not exactly sexy to blurt out, “I’m a doctor” to the person I’m testing out for the Man Of My Life award. I think I would get more dates if I was a pharmacist.

I’m not whining. I really am not. I’m kinda passed the whining / denial stage. I’ve come to acknowledge its presence. There have been alot of wedding invitations recently especially since we’re all going to be done by November. 9 within these few months and counting. I used to wonder where did all my wedding invitations go? Now that they’re loading in by the truckload I’m wondering when will it all stop. I didn’t mean that last sentence. I really love weddings in spite of the cynicism :) What makes me love weddings more is when they’re weddings of people I love. I suppose being one who has never had a boyfriend, I have no grasp of the concept of this thing called a relationship. It’s really quite the mystery-case-files to me. And the concept of me getting married is even more of a distant world away. So when people I know call me up to tell me they’re submitting themselves for a life-long commitment to this one person they truly believe will make them happy forever it feels like they went to, I dunno… say, Machu Pichu and had some kinda life revolution soul revelation experience. All I can afford to do is listen all wide-eyed and imagine the delight.

Ah Choy: theres nothing ere that gives u the maldives feeling
Ah Choy: only pictures for that...
Ah Choy: or maybe experiencing it first hand

Guess there are things you will only know when you know, you know?


With every worthless word, we get more far away

The distance between us makes it so hard to stay

Nothing lasts forever, but be honest, babe

It hurts, but it may be the only way…”

… Maroon 5, Nothing Lasts Forever …

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

people can make the most absurd impulse purchases

A nude spandex Zara dress with giant thumb-sized gold sequins plastered all over it (it’s perfectly explainable: it’s RM99 for what was RM399 before!!)

Then there’s the few Korean-mari pasar malam dresses that I picked up and now have nowhere to go with them. There’s a special creamy, dreamy, flowery bubble dress that was 2 sizes too small. Why oh why did I think I’d one day be thin enough for it??

Or that Stephen Fratwell CD that Sophiekins felt was a must buy when really… it was her flatmate’s idea of a good album. His taste in music is umm… complex.

1kg of garlic.

Or it could be a chemical peel. Especially on a Sunday after you’ve run out of medical leaves.

Or horrors of horrors: BANGS. Bad BANGS. Funky fringe. Pathetic pony. A terrible excuse for a hairstyle change, I have no idea why I just decided to plop my untoned ass on the stupid Brown Salon in Ciwalk (and the moron’s name is Iwan: DO NOT GO TO HIM. HE WILL GIVE YOU THE HAIRCUT FROM HELL) and tell him to snip the strands right there at the front. Maybe it’s the quarter-life crisis or something that I feel the need to perform something drastic in my life so that I’ll feel alive(??), wait no, so that things would be a little different. Not so rut-ty and more BIG FUN. I made a lot of mistakes. And so have other people. But BANGS?? Seriously. BANGS *rolls my eyes* and it’s hideous. I cannot look anymore Cina than I already do. I cannot have a rounder face than I already do. I cannot look anymore younger than I already do. It resembles nothing like Yuri Ebihara’s. Instead it looks like a modified mullet on a good day and a coconut palm sprouting from my scalp on a bad one. Neither of which works in my favour. He did not estimate the length well. In fact, I had to single-handedly guide him throughout the process. AND I had to blow-dry my own hair so that it was decent enough to leave the salon with. Oh well thank goodness I have 4 months to grow it out before my Super-Shelbulous Graduation PLUS Sumpah Dokter (Doctor’s Oath Ceremony). Maybe by then, it would be presentable… like Rihanna’s or Nelly Furtado’s (in Say It Right). I really ought to control myself. Really really. Ought to.

Monday, July 09, 2007

updated(!!): my goodies from uk, other parts of europe and some parts of ameh-lica

Just better pictures of my goodies from that time:

My Giles collection (clockwise from top-left): Giles GOLD Collection for New Look accessories. Especially love the acrylic bangle and dangly earrings; bustier dress with giraffe-like prints; paperbag. Hehe; giraffe-print shoes that zips at the heel. Uber charming right?? I like the heels especially; MULBERRY for GILES patent clutch and mace keyring S&M style *woopah*; Cheetah-print shirt dress that is H-H-HOT :)

I am addicted to slogan T-shirts (clockwise from top-left): Weezer baseball tee, Weezer Beverly Hills turquoise martini tee, Behnaz Sarafpour for Target lace-sleeved top, Desperate Housewives I'm A Gabrielle tee, for Project Runway T-shirt project

Chirpy summer floats (clockwise from top-left): Margo owl-embroidered satin dress, Alice McCall b&w printed dress, Vivienne Westwood cotton print skirt

I HEART MY MARK RYDEN collection: Bunnies and Bees, Blood, Wondertoonel. You have no idea the work I had t go through to get them. Will a gracious soul of the world buy me the Fushigi Circus book PLEASE??

And Sophiekins' belated Thalamus bereavement basket(??). I was looking forward to it all year since she was going on and on how she's meticulously putting together a bunch of sh*t which I will super-love and that this would be the answer to the spiritual-lift I very much needed. When she presented the pink wrapping to me I was like WTF?? A scarf, facial wipes and a bag of Whittard tea is supposed to be the saviour from my grief??

Sunday, July 08, 2007

the age-old question

I haven’t written properly in a month. I have no idea why. Mostly I feel really tired at the end of the day and there’s really no excuse for it ‘cos it’s not as if I’ve been doing manual labour like tarring highways or bloody chopping firewood. My duties in the hospital are fairly light in comparison to long-haul truck drivers or the Olympics gymnastics team. I think that all the accumulated fatigue and lethargy I’ve gathered throughout my internship the past year and a half has finally caught up with me and now it’s payback time! I cannot face the day now without at least 6 hours of sleep. 8 would be ideal and 10 – 12… heavenly!! It’s odd because I used to be able to get through the day on a staple 4-hour sleep routine. I finally understand I’m growing older and there’s really only so much I can do now. Sometimes you just can’t keep on pushing it, y’know? I hardly noticed the transition because sometimes I’m just so distracted with trivial sh*t that it only hits me now that I have slowly started progressing from problem-skin to anti-aging anti-wrinkle youth-promoting skincare. People think that being 26 isn’t exactly what you would call OLD in fact it’s an insult to say this to… those in their mid-30s or heck early 40s. I just think I’m old ‘cos I’m approaching the big 3 yet I haven’t exactly achieved anything in life. I don’t have anything to call my own. I possess nothing. Not even a relationship. I really can’t wait to graduate because at least I will have a degree which promises me a career. There will be something I can call my own. I’m not surprised Dddy actually lives for my graduation day. He’s adamant I have an education and a good one whilst at it because people can take away so many material things from you but they cannot deny your degree. It’s the one thing that sets you apart as a single entity. It’s yours and yours only.

These few days I’ve been planning out the itinerary of November, December and the next 5 years ahead in my mind. There are some people who are still unsure of where they want to go in life and I see them floating about giving this and that a try. I suppose if there’s one thing my choice in education has offered me is a pretty vivid path of how I wish to shape this thing called my career. A medical career is pretty regimented and stiff. Firstly there’s the housemanship period of a year and then we serve as a medical officer for 2 – 3 years… of which there are afew options to serve the government. We could either:
a) select an enlisted teaching hospital
b) join the army
c) join the police force
d) go into the teaching line
I have decided on choice (b). Chiefly ‘cos my father, a medical representative – worked really hard – got his big break in life and is now a business person in the pharmaceutical line, has always been a closet-army officer / doctor and I grew up with the love of wanting to medicate people and wearing uniforms so… I suppose, in perfect “whoah” sense, I decided to become the army doctor he always dreamed to be. I know that life is about living your own life and making your own decisions but it sure doesn’t hurt to make you parentals happy once in awhile. People give me such a hard time just because they feel it’s so outrageous that I’m living my life for someone else. In my defence, there’s also this thing called social responsibility.

(msn)moi: but who is to say what. we have to be able to finish what we started and be able to sacrifice and live up to expectationsSophiekins: yeah I heard dat sh*t so many times I hv a f*cking prepared speech for it
moi: if we're gonna have to sit through another do-sh*t-for-yourself session then ppl just don't know tat much. they know shi*t and they live for today.
moi: i will not let you be the grasshopper who sang all summer
moi: i kno u’ve heard all that sh*t
(before)moi: next time be frankSophiekins: I suppose theyr brought up in a diff waymoi: tell him you've heard all that sh*t beforeSophiekins: I dnt blame em, cos they dnt understand
moi: and you dont need to
moi: i tell ppl tat now

Sophiekins: the ones dat r wise tell me they dnt understand but they knw dats the way it is
Sophiekins: the ones dat r well, not, try to do the whole martyr thing n set me free or some sh*t
Sophiekins: I just let it go out the other ear n wish things werent as complicated as they were
moi: when they go why u join army. i say my father likes. then they say u do everytg ur father tells u. i say yes. then they start. and then i silence them by telling them just cos they're such insolent children who cant bother to try to make their parents happy doesn't mean they feel they have the need to teach me a thing or two bout life
moi: we are brought up differently and will continue to function differently in life. nobody has a say in anything in each other's perspectives
Sophiekins: yeah.

I’ve left Sartika Asih Hospital liao. We now begin a new department in Public Health of which we deal with the managerial side of medicine like health-promotion and data-analysis and all those other sh*t I hate. Never had a penchant for Public Health matters but it’s just something we all have to go through (with a *groan*). My primary health centre is this little hut about an hour and a half away from Bandung. It is in Tanjung Sari which is about a half hour car-ride beyond Pondok Maulana in Jatinangor where I used to stay. The place is automobile-friendly ‘till a point where we have to continue on foot for around 5 minutes ‘cos it gets too steep for the car. It’s OK-lah. I’ve heard of dreadful primary health centres which requires a 40-minutes ojek ride into some pedalaman kampung. I’m really one of the lucky ones. That place is pretty terpencil, there is no sight of a food-stall and the only photocopy machine in that vicinity is broken but at least we can still get there by car-lah. Work has been rather difficult especially since we’re literally poking our noses into the PHC’s business of where we’re not wanted. It’s been tricky trying to get financial / expenses data especially the amount awarded by the government subsidy. They probably think we’re undercover agents for the Health Ministry trying to score dirt when we’re really not. I’m sure that there will be some unaccountable funds that go into their pockets etc. It’s only natural. I mean Indon gitu-lho, who the heck doesn’t gelap duit here?? It really explains the cold shoulder and the “umms” and “errs” whenever we bring the subject of money up. I really don’t care if they’re bloody daylight robbers, it’s really none of my business. I just want sh*t so I can get the stupid report done so we can move on to the next department. Just give me something.. anything(!!) to work with, y’know??

Can’t wait for the sh*t to be over.

Saturday, July 07, 2007

anya hindmarch's 'i'm not a plastic bag' is *bisou* worthy

Don't hate me.

Envy me.
P.S: dirt on the I'm Not A Plastic Bag fiasco over at Suria KLCC up soon. Sophiekins will be reporting on my behalf since she was present at the crime scene. I seriously predicted a riot.

Sunday, July 01, 2007

kuala lumpur viennese debutante ball


L to R: McPet from Deutchland, "horny and Chinese" Christoph, Afro'ed Robin (I'm convinced he's a surfer) and finally sweet Jan.

Omg I just LOVED the view... We definitely came out in one hell of a view.

Oooh... I feel purrrrdyyyyy... Outfit consisted of a Swarovski crown lent to the debutantes for the Ball (not messing! That thing had weight..), Fiesta formal gown (ordered via the internet and shipped from America), white gloves and fresh rose posies. You can't see it but I was wearing white Dior Lady sandals. It was pretty damn sweet.
The Ball went really well and it helped a lot that they had an OPEN BAR... I'm gonna say it again.. OPEN BAR...
My dance partner "Gazeem" (his name shall remain anonymous but he is the spitting image of the character Gazeem from Aladdin) didn't f-up too bad. Besides if he did - which meant I'd look as bad, at least I didn't nearly flash the guests of honour (McPet left his fly open as he bowed to the Prince and Austrian Ambassador amongst the many other distinguished). Bless McPet he's 15 and I absolutely adored him! He called me sexy at some point and I have to say I blushed. The cuties are getting younger these days and I'm beginning to develop a Mrs. Robinson complex which isn't cool sometimes. Sometimes. *smirk*.
Where the hell are the guys my age??
Notable moments:
- Me, Amin and Kev sneaking behind the black drapes to drink ourselves into a giggly hysteria.
- Me and Kev nearly killing ourselves with the Polka.
- Me perving on this HOT guy with glasses who totally wasn't a debutante's partner at the Ball - until he started speaking into one of those big ass media-type cameras. Turned out he was a Channel V VJ. No wonder he's hot.
- German Christoph slurring : I'm horny and Chinese...
- McPet bitching about his date and holding my hand as he whispered cheekily that his fly was open as he bowed to the guests of honour.
- 2 debutantes working together, trying to get the crown out of my head. It was secured on with plastic bits. Sam from Kota Damansara's Mod Studio did an AWESOME job.
- Walking around pre and post Ball wearing my yellow Havaiiannas.
- Throwing up the next morning because I had too much Champagne. Its a wonder I managed - to hide my slight drunken state from Daddy.
I love Balls... I should've been born in the Jane Austen era...
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