Questa è Enida

When Be is not around, things get delayed or postponed, and sometimes even cancelled. Our Christmas 2007 is still pending Russian Santa’s arrival (aka Daddy). The kids’ big birthday bash got postponed to 2008 Chinese New Year. New Year’s celebration is still on hold – this explains why there was no fireworks seen in from our master bedroom. My birthday got called off. So I am thirty-sumfing-sumfing for another year or two month.

On my birthday (that got called off), I went on and got meself a car USB player anyway. Trading in the old-but-original Kenwood that I treasured all these years, I only had to fork out RM100. I must say, I was so proud of myself that day. Thanks to me bro, Key, for keeping MY feet on the ground and keeping me from spending RM900 on an upgrade (color screen one with built-in equalizer). The RM100 also-Kenwood is already as good if not better than my old one. At Volume 23, I wouldn’t hear it if I got rear-ended! Baler!

Also on my birthday that got a strike-down, I dragged Key to Motorola KLCC to temp myself to get an upgrade for my Samsung SGH P850 (suddenly a non-3G phone is as good as obsolete!) I was of course so tempted to angkat the RAZR2V9 di hari dan waktu yang sama ok! I had to jeling Key a few times to make sure he wasn’t going to serkup me with a straight-jacket or sangkar ayam! But he looked like he was so on the kegarisan ready to grab me away from my own temptation.

I managed to refrain myself that day – and managed to leave my number to Jack Yu and ask him to call me as soon as they had a Mahogany RAZR2V9. Black didn’t quite tickle my fancy.

When Be is not around, things do get delayed. I haven’t told him how 3G’ed I am now. If he ever asked why I had to get a 3G phone, I think I’m gonna have to use the G-spot excuse. Eesshhh! Enida! Good thing I have my own G-aji.

Nevertheless…bila kau (Be) tak di sampingku, it feels like I am walking forward backwards. I don’t know where I’m going but I’m going. I can’t go fast, but I can’t slow down. (But what I miss most is those little bussess on my hair.)

How Can I Not Love You
Cannot touch, cannot hold, cannot be together
Cannot love, cannot kiss, cannot love each other
Must be strong and we must let go
Cannot say what our hearts must know

How can I not love you
What do I tell my heart
When do I not want you here in my arms
How does one walk away
From all of the memories
How do I not miss you when you are gone

Cannot dream, cannot share sweet and tender moments
Cannot feel how we feel
Must pretend it’s over
Must be brave and we must go on
Must not say
What we’ve known all along

How can I not love you
What do I tell my heart
When do I not want you here in my arms
How does one walk away
From all of the memories
How do I not miss you when you are gone
How can I not love you

Must be brave and we must be strong
Cannot say what we’ve known all along

How can I not love you
What do I tell my heart
When do I not want you here in my arms
How does one walks away
From all of the memories
How do I not miss you when you are gone
How can I not love you
When you are gone

Imran Ajmain

Terjumpa satu catatan lama saya…something I either copied from somewhere, or remembered hearing from someone:

“Setiap kali kita berjalan ke arah Tuhan,
Tuhan sebenarnya berlari ke arah kita.”

I stopped doing what I was doing when I saw this note. For about half an hour…I just looked at nothing and nobody but myself.

I need that walk.

It has been a while, si. A month, at least. But it was a month of sitting on a chair with a back – to lean on. Now I am back to sitting on one that is backless. Be has returned to Sakhalin Island. I guess it isn’t too bad for me. He is back to twisting his balls 12 to 18 hours a day, 7 days a week, for the next 5 weeks. And I am complaining, kicking and screaming because my chair is backless?

Nevertheless, the last month has been an interesting transition…or adjustment, or whatever you want to call it. We did not anticipate Be being gone longer than 5 weeks at at time, but before he came home on November 2nd, he was in Sakhalin for 8 weeks. Enough for him to grow a bear-beard, which he did. Kitreena loved it. I…I had a tough time looking for his lips, to say the least! So, the bear-beard went down the drain the first night Be was home. Heeeee!

Eight weeks was also more than a Deputy Manager can handle to lose two Managers in a high-profile project like Sakhalin. But ah well, it was written on the wall that the project is not for the fainthearted. So fainthearted fighters come and go. Only survivors stay.

I, on this other end, was busy trying to fight the urge to ‘consume’. You know how the theory of consumption goes, don’t you? If you can’t consume with your hands, you consume with your mouth. In my case, it was the calorie cum cholesterol consumption. Both, hands and mouth! Pehhh! It was quite a challenge to just kuis-kuis food when you actually want to lick the plate clean. And to top it all, try eating out with someone who is craving for everything but Russian camp-food, in Malaysia!

So November came and went. It was indeed a month of adjustments, transitions…or whatever you want to call it. Be left for Seoul early this morning, after an hour of our lovers-quarrel heart-pouring session. It wasn’t easy being away from each other for a month or two at a time. And it was still challenging trying to make time for each other when he was back for a month. There’s the kids in between, and all the stuff needing attention – and my demanding job (and him in his attempt to make sure things go 100% as planned).

Nobody says adjusting is easy. Nobody says parting is sweet. And in times like this…I say love is timeless.

I have learned that there are things you kiss and never tell. And there are things you tell and never kiss.

Mmmuuuaaahhh!

Sampai Menutup Mata

Embun di pagi buta
Menebarkan bau asa
Detik demi detik ku hitung
Inikah saat ku pergi

Oh Tuhan ku cinta dia
Berikanlah aku hidup
Takkan ku sakiti dia
Hukum aku bila terjadi

Aku tak mudah untuk mencintai
Aku tak mudah mengaku ku cinta
Aku tak mudah mengatakan
Aku jatuh cinta

Senandungku hanya untuk cinta
Tirakatku hanya untuk engkau
Tiada dusta sumpah ku cinta
Sampai ku menutup mata
Cintaku sampai ku menutup mata

Oh Tuhan ku cinta dia
Berikanlah aku hidup
Takkan ku sakiti dia
Hukum aku bila terjadi

by Acha

…

Tuhan telah menghukum patik.
Tapi Tuhan juga telah lama memaafkan patik.
Carilah walau ke dasar paling dalam…dalam hati Tuanku.
Untuk mengampunkan patik yang dulu khilaf.

Ampun Tuanku beribu-ribu ampun,
Sembah patik harap di ampun,
Bertahun-tahun kasih merumpun,
Sumpah patik maaf berhimpun.

Nota untuk seorang yang telah saya sakiti lama dulu.
Antara saya dan dia, masih tak ada antara.

I heard a racist comment from a salesperson today, at KLCC of all places. It still disgusts saddens me to hear such unintelligent and backward remark. Adjectives given to people should be based on behavior, not the genetic make-up that none of us get to choose.

And to me, there are only two bangsa (races) in this world. If one is kind to others, by all means and rights, he is a bangsawan. Otherwise, he belongs to the race of choice…bangsat.

Take a pick.

• Loose translation Bahasa Malaysia–English:
  bangsawan = elite
  bangsat = pariah

I just signed up with Facebook, and saw that my brother in-law was already on it. Didn’t see many familiar faces. Maybe one or two. No, honestly…only two. Azuradec and Ng Kim Chu. Had a smile to see the question on Facebook “How did you get to know Azuradec/Ng Kim Chu?” Good question, I thought. It sure brought me back to how I got to know these ladies. Azuradec is a friend of my best friend, Cik Nan. I have been back in Malaysia for over two years now but never got to see Azura here (and she has now relocated to Hong Kong. Oiii fun!). She visited me when I was in Oman. And oh, we were supposed to meet up in Kuching – at the Rainforest Festival – but I met her twin, Gina, instead. And Ng Kim Chu was one of my students in UKM back in the late 90’s.

Anyway, Facebook aside, I must say…it’s getting more and more challenging to keep friends at this age. Those who are married with children are busy with their family. The ladies are busy trying to be supermoms, and the guys are busy trying to chase their superkids, (or superbabe sitting at the next cubicle). Those who are still single are busy assuming that all married friends are busy with their lives and have no time for single friends. So in the end, nobody calls anybody and the next thing you hear…some of us have pushed up daisies.

And frankly speaking, it is not easy looking at old friends with your old new pair of eyes…assuming you are older and wiser, that is. As hard as accepting that people do change and like you, your friends (might) have changed – for the better. You kinda know their past and there is this empty space between then and now. You simply don’t know how to ‘fill in the blank’ anymore. You have no inkling as to what your friends have become, so you keep going back to what you remember best about them. And that memory, my friend, is extremely selective.

If you like these old friends you just get back in touch with…I mean, if you used to like them, then you’ll recall all the good things about them. How charming they were, how voluptuous they looked even in those baju kurung and a windbreaker top. Or perhaps how articulate and outspoken they used to be. But if you didn’t particularly like them, and hated their guts…oii, nothing can change that feeling now – or ever. Not even if they had become an ustazah with a PhD! You’d find yourself looking for flaws. And when you can’t, you’d start looking at their spouse – on whom you will find flaws. Trust me! I am an unmistakeably human too. Just like you.

All in all, whether I have said it or not, it’s not easy being a thirty-something. Not because we know what we want. But more because we know what we do NOT want. And as we grow (hopefully up…not just old), we actually see less of black and white and more gray. We give and we take, and whatever we can’t, we borrow and steal. And then we justify our own failures, renaming them, calling them lessons.

We tumble and we fall – flat on our face more often than not. But hey, we get up everytime.

Don’t we?