> a bit about the girl i like

i sometimes wonder if i met the love of my life when i was nine. i wonder if my soul mate wasn’t set before me long ago only to be lost to adolescence and painful shyness. i wonder if she wonders the same thing.

her desk was right in front mine in a class room. we were in standard three. i don’t remember if i liked her immediately or if it took time, but i remember the sweet ache in my chest every time i saw her, the ache that nearly stole my breath and voice when she spoke to me. and speak she did, the sweetest things you can imagine. she saw through my 'kampong-face' and told me, ' saya suka la kawan dengan kamu'.....an A grade sugar coated statement, kept forever in my books of ' greatest angau '. and at one time, minutes before 'they' dragged me up on stage to sing at the annual school talent-time show, when i was self-conscious about my white-turned-yellow school shoes she told me how cool i am in my rented cowboy costume..i sang my heart out, just like a superstar on a movie screen lah.

approaching her was something i know, i'd never have enough guts to do, every time i try to talk to her, my words kept falling apart. one day after a few sessions of mental theraphy with closest friends, i braved myself to approach her and casually pop the question - ' kamu nak nasi lemak dak ? my mother won't mind if her nasi lemak business money a packet short....i know.
she looked at me, then she smiled at me, i gave her a packet of nasi lemak and smiled and tried to find more words to speak, words that would make she likes me.
several weeks after my father passed away.... i was forced to transfer to a school nearer to my house as my mother couldn't afford to pay my school bus fees...our three days friendship went down the drain..we moved in a different circles...

years passed. i didn't see her until i was at home one weekend, when my mother's friend with his family came to visit her. i saw a fimilar face came out from the car..i said to myself, can't be her..but my heart beats like a drum disagree ..i said, yes! it's her! i was astonished + happy but extremely nervous to see her when we were introduced..we were obviously shocked to know that our parents were actually friends!....well that was what i thought at first. the truth is something else.
she said hi, and gave me a big smile. i said hello, smiled back. i still couldn’t breathe, could barely speak. i dont know what to do, i was so nervous..i looked away, and quickly motion to my room, as if i was 'kiasu' with something.
wtf that i've done?
i wasn't my self at that time, i allowed my self to be invaded by shyness and stupidity, and i missed the last chance to regain a lost precious friendship.....and that was the last time i saw her, her family moved to melaka for good. we lost contact.

i rarely dream of people i know,.. but i have dreamed about this girl since the first time i saw her. once in a while, to this day, she will still come to me in my sleep. she is my reminder of opportunities lost, of longings unfulfilled....

> TGIF

sometimes i tell myself that i am truly awesome. and on occasion that little voice in the back of my head doesn’t disagree. those are the really good days.

then there are the other days.

those are the days when my curly-spunky hair won’t stay put, no matter how many kilos of hair-clay i use, the days when that stupid piece of nasal-hair insists on going in the opposite direction of where i put it, the days when an insignificant jerawat magically shifted to the prime area, and claim to be the president of my face, dont ask me how it happen, but it happened...the days when i were asked for my full name; nama punuh encek.... ' kumar a/l ( son of ) ?? after an hour long phone conversation, the days when i'm on shopping thrills, but failling to buy anything because the collection is out of size G!and the days when i'm so uncomfortable with my unwanted 'spare tyres' after a nip/tuck mini-marathon i want to curl up in my day-bed and reminiscing the good-happy days.

but most days are in between. i’m fine with not being perfect, but not feeling so imperfect as not to be fine. if that makes any sense.

right now i’m sitting here trying to decide what the point of this post is and failing miserably. and i’m ok with that. an in-between day. a real day, i think. because life usually ends up being a mix, good and bad, happy and sad, sublime and ridiculous all at once- right?

> get happy or die tryin'

am i happy?
if you’ve read here for a while you may not think so,.....but the fact is that i am.
it doesn’t mean that i don’t long for things or that i don’t feel bad sometimes. i choose to work out some of my angst here. that’s what a personal journal is for, yes? as what they always said sharing a burden with others lightens the load..

but happy i am.....i am comfortable with myself, i know i am blessed in many ways and i am grateful for a life without a lot of drama. but we, people always want more. i suppose that’s the part of intelligence that makes us unhappy...we know there’s more and we want it....never enough.

next year i will be 41. and in the past month or so i have been beginning to see myself differently. more like a grown-up- or more than that?- and i’m not sure how i feel about that.....i still want to be silly, i still want to play, i still want to be irresponsible sometimes, i still want to wear those ripped and torn fadded jeans....astro-boy t's, sneakers, read comics, anime gig etc... but now i wonder how it looks on me. people's perception of me... i'm curious if their perception matches my own sense of reality...but i guess i really dont want to know what people think of me...and i don’t think i am as concerned about what other people think about me as much as care what i think about myself ...

but sometimes i feel that the one who has the most inaccurate, skewed view of who i am — is myself. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

> searching for the unknown but knowable

when i was smaller, a boy. i wanted to be many things. i wanted to be rich, i wanted to be famous, i wanted to be a loving father of five oriental children. i wanted to be a hero, i wanted to be strong, i wanted to be a soldier so i can help sargeant vic morrow to kill all the bad guys....i wanted to be special, i saw myself standing out from the crowd, never conforming and never apologizing for it. i reveled in being different! i even invented an exotic background to further set myself apart. but somewhere along the way i forgot about all that.....i got scared....the life i ended up with was like a colorful cheap shirt..... it looked good from the outside, with some fashionable detailing and all but was scratchy and uncomfortable and really didn’t fit properly. i felt powerless to change it. the fear had worked its way into my bone, winding around my dna and becoming a part of me.

but things changed, as they always do.... the thin walls of my life suddenly came crashing down around me, and i had to rebuild. it has been a very slow process...... but i’ve finally rid myself of the fear.... and i’ve put together a life that fits me better..i hope so...and yet there is more work to do. a little tailoring here and there, if you will. my thousand-mile journey is far from over...i'm still restless and searching. some part of me understands that this will always be.. it is what keeps me moving forward rather than standing still. but i’m determined to enjoy the journey, take pleasure in the hunt and keep moving forward searching for purpose, to reach for something that sets me apart from the crowd.

> facts of life

lately i’ve been noticing that i don’t look as good as i used to.
i look tired, i look a bit frayed at the edges.........i’d like to say there was a reason for this,

one that i could fix and things would go back to normal, but i don’t think there is.

i think i’m starting to show my age.... and it’s freaking me out more than a little bit.

funny thing about it is that although age creeps up on you slowly, you seem to notice its affects all of a sudden. one day you could pass for twenty five and then next you look every minute of your age. or at least that’s what happened to me.

i have never hidden the fact that i’m vain. it’s something i’ve always owned and simply accepted because it has flown beneath people’s radar......it’s not something that i make obvious or let affect the way i treat others. but now it’s making getting through this stage of my life harder. and the bitch of it is that it is never going to get better—only worse.

i suppose this is part of the process. maybe this is what they mean by midlife crisis. facing your new face in the mirror and realizing this is the best you’ll ever look again. and that one day, before you know it, you’ll be old. but just because i recognize it doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy getting through it.
letting go is never easy.......

> a song to me-self

my life is brilliant, my love is pure
i saw an angel of that i'm sure, she smiled at me on the subway..
she was with another man, but i won't lose no sleep on that 'cause i've got a plan

you're beautiful,
you're beautiful
you're beautiful, it's true i saw your face in a crowded place
and i don't know what to do 'cause i'll never be with you
yes, she caught my eye
as we walked on by, she could see from my face that i was fucking high
and i don't think that i'll see her again
but we shared a moment that will last 'till the end

you're beautiful,
you're beautiful
you're beautiful, it's true i saw your face in a crowded place
and i don't know what to do 'cause i'll never be with you

you're beautiful
you're beautiful
you're beautiful, it's true
there must be an angel with a smile on her face
when she thought up that i should be with you
but it's time to face the truth..........i will never be with you

> bit about the woman i love

my mother was really young when my dad left her. he left her nothing except five wounded hearts. me, two elder sisters and two kid brothers.. being a second wife was tough and being single again was really - really tough.... ' mak tua ' never liked mother for being pretty and soft hearted. mak tua and company never liked us for being part of them.....without my dad, it all became worst...

with nothing, my mother started her unpromising life with ten ringgit that mak tua 'painfully' parted with from money donated by people who knew him. ten ringgit for the six of us....what year were we at that time?...ahh it was at 1978...kalau jimat that ten ringgit can last two to three days lah.

being young and pretty were my mother advantages, she was the perfect company for dad's business and political functions. she was pampered and loved more than mak tua. was she good at cooking? i don't remember, maybe she didn't cook at all. i was too young to remember.

but that all changed after dad left us. she had to work as a cashier at a school canteen and was lucky enough to be promoted as the ' tukang masak's' assistant which earned her a few extra ringgit.

with the help of two sisters in the family, mother started a small home based 'nasi lemak' business. all went well. i helped her sell the 'nasi lemak' in school. the business was so good that it made the school canteen owner so unhappy...... alas .. i was caught! the schoolguard confiscated all of my 'nasi lemak'. i was nine at that time and it was really one hell of a shocking experience.

the headmaster gave me a warning and asked me to ask the canteen to help sell the 'nasi lemak' ... no more black market 'nasi lemak'.

my 'nasi lemak' retail price was dua 'kupang' per packet, lima 'duit' commission to the rich canteen owner. that was what i told my mother ... at least the business can still go on.

one week past and business was good. she was happy. but .. one day .. the 'nasi lemak' sale suddenly became bad. i was told it was because my nasi lemak was dirty. they found a cockroach in one of my 'nasi lemak'....!!!

business then became really bad and this time they found another type of insect inside one of many packets. the same pattern went on and on and on and mother got the hint. the business was stopped with - tears.

mother worked hard, i would say ten times harder than any woman her age in the kampung but the money was never enough. i was forced to transfer to a school nearer to my house as she couldn't afford to pay my school bus fees. her vision of me getting a better education at a better school thus vanished....